IN A FIGHTING TOP

Dominion, Volume 11, Issue 227, 13 June 1918, Page 6

IN A FIGHTING TOP

AN ACTUAL EXPERIENCE. The fighting top was not a very inviting place to be in. Situated at the head of the foremast, it had somewhat the appearance of the flange surmounting a giant candlestick which had been fantastically decorated with pieces of quilted cloth. These were splinter mats strung around the top as a protection against enemy fire, i One entered the top by creeping hand-over-hand up a sort of skeleton ladder made of iron grips riveted flush upon the mast. Climbing these was a difficult way of getting heavenward. As the ship roiled so the mast swayed.v Sometimes one lay flat upon it. Noxt moment one would be clinging desperately beneath it. Entrance to the top itself was obtained through a narrow Tiole, through which one emerged and squeezed with care amid men's legs, piled ammunition, and the pedestals of guns. As for the top itself,' once inside one found it to be a small circular compartment with a narrow slit running around it through which several small-calibre weapons poked vicious noses. In the centre stood an officer directing operations. At the guns were men ready to press the firing keys, while others kept the belts of ammunition filled. "Each one was "on the stretch/'- and as the officer gave the order the guns began spouting a deadly mixture of lead and name through the orifice. Hardly a word was spoken, for the sufficient reason that voices were drowned by the fiendish rattle of the guns. It sounded as though half a dozen automatic riveting machines were running' in this tiny chamber, while every now and again the lesser noises were drowned by ihe sledge-hammer beats of the "pompoms." I'apidlv boxes were opened and cartridge belts refilled. Just aa rapidly the guns emptied them. Smoke, acrid and asphyxiating, blew lwek into the faces of the gunners. But they fought grimly oil. Occasionally ono passed a sleeve quickly across his eyes, to wipe away the blinding fog. Continually men tried to spit the choking fumes from their throats. Then suddenly there came a detonation louder than all, followed by a hiilf-stilled cry. as a man fell across the breech of his gun and rolled lifelessly to the floor. An enemy shell had entered the top and put one of the gun's temporarily out of action. Carefully the wounded gunner was moved aside and another look his place at the firing koy. . Men might fall, but the light must go on. And it did. Other Elicits came in. More men dropped. Tho pathetic heap of mangled humanity grew momentarily larger, vet the outpouring stream of tiro and lead continued to roll from every part of the top's periphery. Guns jammed. Men tugged them clear and grasped newly filled belts, rattling these through as quickly as the guns would cany them. Bv now the floor had become a ghastlylitter of spent shell, spent men, and blood-stained clothing. The revolting debris of war'piled higher each second. No more commands came from the officer. He was "down and out." Scarcely one of the top's complement remained uinvouiided, but they kept the guns idling all the same. At last their fire began to slacken and guns fell idle because there were none to use them. Some of the weapons had bccomo casualties also, through direct hits-injuring their mechanism. Before the battle was over only one of them continued working. That one was a' "pom-pom" which a wounded marine handled as best he could. Of all those stationed in the top ho was the only ono left capable of working a gun, and ho determined to keep it going lo the end. No fancy picture this, but a poor enough description of an actual fight. War is not beautiful anywhere. In a warship's fighting top it assumes a very ugly aspect.