History of the World/History of the World (Bureau Development, Inc.)(1992).BIN/dp/0469/04698.txt

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$Unique_ID{how04698}
$Pretitle{}
$Title{True Stories Of The Great War
Lost On A Seaplane And Set Adrift In A Mine-Field}
$Subtitle{}
$Author{A Seaplane Observer}
$Affiliation{}
$Subject{off
seaplane
time
might
pilot
water
floats
mines
sea
machine}
$Date{1917}
$Log{}
Title:       True Stories Of The Great War
Book:        Lost On A Seaplane And Set Adrift In A Mine-Field
Author:      A Seaplane Observer
Date:        1917
Translation: Benington, Arthur

Lost On A Seaplane And Set Adrift In A Mine-Field

I - "My Hundredth Flight Over The North Sea"

Adventures on the North Sea

Told by a Seaplane Observer

     The Great War has introduced new perils both on land and sea.  Here
is the story of one of them - two men drifting through a mine-field on a
crippled seaplane, fending off mines with their bare hands, and expecting
every moment to be blown to pieces!  Daring adventure told in the Wide
World.

     I completed my "century" of seaplane flights over the North Sea with
an adventure the like of which, I trust, will never occur again.

     Many varied experiences have gone to total up that number of ascents
- some far from pleasant, others most interesting, and well repaying one
for occasional hardships.

     The sequal to my one-hundredth flight, however, will take a lot of
effacing from my memory.

     The atmosphere was a trifle thick when we started off from our base
with the intention of flying an ordinary hundred-and-fifty-mile circular
patrol.

     The farther we progressed, the thicker grew the haze, till we at last
were travelling through dense fog.

     We left at 7.30 a.m., and climbed to two thousand five hundred feet
to get above the heat-haze and fog over the water.

     At eight-twenty-five, almost an hour later, the revolutions of the
eight-foot tractor began slackening perceptibly, and presently, to our
dismay, the engine stopped dead.

     We were compelled to descend so quickly that there was no time to
send a wireless signal; in fact, I just barely managed to cut the trailing
aerial wire free before we struck the sea.

     That I did so was a slice of luck, as, otherwise, the fuselage would
probably have been ripped up, and the machine capsized.

     When the floats smacked the water we got quite a bump, and a decided
jar in the nape of our necks.

     Fortunately, however, the under-carriage struts retained their
rigidity and did not buckle, and the seaplane rode the water right way up.

     I will not worry the reader with a technical explanation of the
trouble which had befallen our engine.  Sufficient to state that it was of
so serious a nature as to preclude us from any attempt at "patching her
up."

     "Do you know where we are?" inquired the pilot, after we had heartily
chorused a round of expletives appropriate to such an eventuality.  I
shook my head.

     It must be remembered we had been travelling through fog most of the
journey, and therefore could not spot the regular aids to maritime aerial
pilotage, such as light-vessels, sandbanks, buoys, and coast contours.  In
addition to this there are always air currents about, to counteract a dead
compass-reckoning alone.

     By taking the mean of our calculations, however, we were eventually
able to place a finger on the approximate area where we believed ourselves
to be on the chart.

     The result was anything but encouraging.  We were at least fifty
miles from the shores of England, and in a neighbourhood devoid of all
shipping, even in times of peace.  What was worse, it was gradually borne
in upon us that we were perilously near, if not actually in, a most
extensive mine-field!

     Personally, I was feeling anything but buoyant, and the reason is not
far to seek.  I had had the middle watch (12-4 a.m.) in the wireless cabin
ashore the previous night.  A report then came through that there was
"something buzzing" - hostile submarines scudding round, or Zeppelins or
other aircraft - and I had the wireless of half-a-dozen machines to
overhaul, and superintend their going off.  Then my own turn came, and,
minus breakfast or a bite of anything, off I went, having had no food
since the previous afternoon at five.  Worse still, I had not so much as a
bite of "grub" about me, or even a smoke.

     The pilot went through his pockets, and discovered one solitary
cigarette resting in state in his case.  Being a sportsman, as well as a
companion in misfortune, he offered it to me, and, on my emphatic refusal,
halved it.  So we both lit up whilst we reviewed the situation.

     I don't believe I ever treated a smoke with greater care than I did
that half-cigarette.  For aught I knew it might be my last.

     When we had finished our cogitations the joint result of our thinking
was by no means hopeful.

II - "S. O. S." Message On Machine Gun

     A strong sun was beginning to shine through the intense heat-haze,
and the glare of the water was very trying.

     At regular intervals I fired off a Very's light, with the idea of
attracting attention.  As the coloured projectiles curved high into the
air and plunged downwards, so did our hopes seem to rise and fall.

     When my Very's cartridges were exhausted, I commenced a series of
"S.O.S." messages in the Morse code on the machine-gun.  The nickel
bullets of two trays of Mark VII. ammunition had winged through the heavy
air before we realized the practical futility of it all.

     We therefore kept the remainder of our gun magazines intact, as also
a brace of heavy service revolvers, 455 calibre, fully loaded.

     We were not to know what might crop up at any moment.  A Taube might
find us and swoop down for bombing practice, or to make an easy prey.  We
could not in any event be taken prisoners by hostile aircraft, as there
would be no space for us in a machine already full.

     At any moment, too, a U-boat might pop up and either make a target of
us for their quick-firer or take us in tow for the Belgian coast, which
was uncomfortably near at hand.

     However, come what might, we were in a mood to fight to a finish.

     Unfortunately, my wireless transmitter was worked from the engine
direct, otherwise I might have rigged up an extempore aerial from the
spare reel carried, and sent a "S.O.S." from accumulators.

     It is doubtful if such a scheme would have proved effective, but it
would have been worth trying.  But in the circumstances I was helpless.

     The heat was now simply awful, the sea dead calm.  We had taken off
our leather coats long since, and now rigged them up across the fuselage
overhead, for shelter from the sun's rays.

     Presently it became so hot and stuffy on the seats that both the
pilot and myself took our boots and trousers off, climbed down on the
floats, and stretched ourselves along them in the comparative shelter of
the wings and fuselage body.

     The stern part of the floats was, of course, submerged, so we lay
with our lower limbs under water, and felt cooler.  This we did for about
three hours, each of which seemed an age.

     What with the heat and the want of food, which caused a dull
throbbing in my temples, by noon I was in such a state that I did not care
what happened to us.

     The pilot (poor chap) had only recently been married, and he rattled
along continually about his young wife.

     I have no wish to be in like straits again, but if such a misfortune
should happen, I earnestly trust I shall not have the misfortune to be
beside a young fellow newly wedded!  In the long weary time we spent
together I had the whole of his history, from childhood to courtship, and
I suppose he had mine!

     What surprised us was the great number of logs floating about.
Apparently a timber boat had foundered somewhere close by.

     Every log that hove in sight through the haze we thought was a ship.
It was a terrible time.

     At intervals we either heard - or imagined we did - the engines of
aircraft.  Sometimes they seemed all around us; sometimes a long way off.

     "Our only chance is a relief seaplane being sent after us," said the
pilot.  "Otherwise we are done for!"

     There was precious little chance of us ever being spotted, we
reckoned, owing to the extremely low visibility.

     At least a dozen times, as the day wore on, we heard the unmistakable
roar of aircraft, and it was torture to listen to them.

     "It's coming nearer.  They will see us!" the pilot would cry,
hopefully.

     Then the sound would recede into the distance, and we would become
despondent again.

III - "We Were Floating Over Dynamite"

     It was extremely irritating, whilst anxiously following these sounds
with straining ears, to hear the swish, swish of the water across the
floats, the ripple as it rejoined the ocean again, and the creak, creak of
the great wings as we rose and fell with a squelch on the gentle
undulations of a swell.

     These sounds eventually developed into a perfect nightmare.  Every
swish and creak seemed to pierce our brains.

     Eventually we climbed up into the seats again for a while and stared
our eyes out scanning the horizon with our powerful glasses.  Every piece
of flotsam seen we dubbed a boat, till it drifted near enough to make out
detail.

     The wind got up a little and died down again, but it shifted the haze
somewhat.

     In the afternoon we saw a sight which gladdened our hearts.

     High up to the nor'-west, and dropping towards us, was a bird-like
machine.  Nearer and nearer it came, till we could hear the engines
clearly.  Soon we identified her marks, which set our fears at rest.  It
was a British 'plane.

     We sprang up, gesticulated wildly, and fired a few pistol-shots just
to relieve our excitement.

     She was a rescue seaplane from our own base, it appeared, and
presently she dropped on the water beside us and "taxied" as close as she
might.

     Her pilot steered within twenty yards or so of us, and the observer
heaved overboard in our direction a huge vacuum flask.

     Then, without stopping their engine, and waving cheerily, they droned
along the surface and tilted into the air again.  We watched her until the
machine became a mere speck and finally faded into the blue.

     Then, and not till then, we remembered the flask.  We were fated
never to taste its contents, however, for it floated past out of reach, in
the midst of a great school of giant jellyfish.

     I have never been stung by one of these loathsome-looking creatures,
and I had no desire to be on this occasion.  Neither had the pilot, so the
bottle floated out of sight without giving us anything but moral support.

     After this interlude our long impatient wait recommenced.  The
episode had instilled hope into us, but the hours seemed to drag more
heavily than ever.  There was nothing but sea on every hand - a great
circular expanse of glaring, shimmering water.

     Presently schools of porpoises began to put in an appearance,
sporting about in their own unmistakable style.  There must have been
hundreds of them.  One group frolicked close around us, and several times
a glossy black tail caught one or other of the floats a resounding smack.

     The fabric of these floats is exceedingly frail, and we were rather
concerned about them.  It seemed a pity to shoot the playful creatures,
particularly as their antics created a diversion, but we trembled for the
safety of the floats every time they were struck.

     As the tide went down, several dark, spheroidal objects commenced
bobbing up by twos to the surface - on our starboard beam, as we were
floating at that time.

     Through our glasses we could spot scores more of them in the
distance.  No need to tell one another what they were.  We knew - deadly
contact mines!

     The nearest pair were only a matter of half a cable's length away,
and presently our worst ordeal commenced.

     We were drifting towards them with the ebbing tide, and were now on
the fringe of the great mine-field, perhaps the most extensive ever laid.
Once in among those floating engines of death we should have a lively
time.

     It was with no very pleasant thoughts that we considered this new
danger.  I might have turned the machine gun on the mines, but there was
the risk of exploding instead of sinking them, and if one went off it was
fairly safe to assume that its mate, a couple of fathoms away, would
detonate in sympathy.  I presume that this is the underlying idea of
distributing mines in this fashion.

     During the next four hours these horrid death-traps gave us a
terribly anxious time.  We had some very narrow shaves, for at low-water
hundreds were in sight, and as the seaplane drifted along we were
powerless to avoid them.

     The pilot got on one float and I got on the other, and once or twice
we actually had to ward the mines off with our bare hands in order to keep
them from knocking against the machine.  Had one of them done so this
story would never have been written.  Fending off the mines was a ticklish
operation, as you may suppose.  Great care had to be observed in exerting
our strength, and we had to place our hands on parts of the casing of the
mine that were devoid of horns, or between two horns, if it was not
floating high enough.  While engaged in this delightful occupation I went
overboard twice, but managed to scramble back safely without getting into
trouble with the mines.

     Once a mine went off.  It was too far away, however, for us to see
what caused the explosion.  It is not improbable that a luckless porpoise
might have bent a horn in one of its leaps.

     At length, to our heartfelt relief, the tide turned, and the mines
began to disappear under the water again.

     By that time we were drifting nearly the opposite way again, carried
along by the flood-tide.

IV - "An Aeroplane Comes To Rescue"

     Six o'clock came, by our chronometer - seven p.m. summer time - and
we were still intact, having for about ten hours been dependent on our
frail seaplane floats for buoyancy.  Had the sea risen at all, even to a
decent cat's paw, we should have been below the surface long ere this.

     It was shortly after six o'clock, when - burnt almost black by the
sun, with parched throats and swollen tongues - we heard the sound of a
propeller chugging away at no great distance.  The haze had thickened
again as the sun moved west, and at first we could see nothing.  In fact,
we both thought we were dreaming.

     But there was no mistake.  The chugging and throbbing grew louder and
louder, and I fired three single pistol-shots into the air at intervals.
Thereupon the sound intensified, and out of the haze ploughed a trim
little armed motor-launch - officially known as an "M.L."

     She crept alongside very gingerly, lowered her dinghy, and took us
off.  Then she made fast a line to the seaplane, and took her in tow at a
good seven or eight knots.

     We were heartily welcomed by the bluff sailormen aboard.

     Curiously enough, I did not feel thirst so badly as hunger.  I am not
of a thirsty nature at any time, and perhaps that accounted for it.

     The first mouthful of food was torture; it seemed to rasp the skin
off my throat.  After that I ate ravenously.  It was the first touch of
real hunger I had known, and after the experience, I vowed that if it lay
in my power I would never again see a poor beggar go hungry.

     When our bodily wants had been attended to we settled down to a
comfortable smoke in the ward-room.  The skipper, a Lieutenant R.N.R.,
told us he had just made up his mind he was not going to venture another
fathom farther when he heard our shots.  Owing to the proximity of the
mine-field he had been very anxious.

     After our smoke we turned in for a sleep which only terminated when
the "M.L." reached the shores of Old England and her Deisel oil-engines
ceased throbbing!  This was long after midnight.

     They say our little experience has left its mark on us, but
personally I feel as fit as ever.