What an Attack by Submarine is Like.

Kaipara and Waitemata Echo, 15 May 1914, Page 8

What an Attack by Submarine is Like.

The destroyer is doomed shortly to disappear, or, if you like, she will in future be invested with the power to dive. The types, at any rate, will be amalgamated. It is a matter of perfecting the internalcombustion engine for marine purposes. Afterwards the submarine may attain the power of flying as well, and we shall have a ship possessing all the qualities of the wild duck, except that of sitting on eggs and reproducing herself. This forecast is made by Gerard F'Mennes, who writes of the work of the submarine in the "Pall Mall Magazine ' :— "It is the darkest hour, the hour before the dawn. The hostile fleet lies in its harbour, behind the boom and under the shelter of the forts. It has suffered damage /in an encounter with a superior force, but is still 'in being.' The beams of the searchlights wheel and cross and sen-saw up and down ; the guarding destroyers prowl hither and thither in the outer harbour. Of a sudden there is a rush from seaward of black hulls and flaming funnels. No

concealment is attempted"; it would be useless. The attackers crept, unperceived, near enough to make their rush. In an instant the scene is ablaze with quick-firing guns, hurling shell on friend and foe alike. The assailants hold on. One boat after another sinks, but ever fresh squadrons rush in to the attack. A dozen, twenty, thirty boats will be well lost if the attempt succeed. "The boom which protects the harbour mouth is made of huge baulks of timber, wound and bound with stout steel hawsers. From its lower edge hang torpedo-nets. It would be vain to charge it as the Polyphemus years ago charged the boom at Portsmouth for an experiment, and got over. It must be blown rup. A rending crash, followed by another, proclaims the failure of the trusted defence. The boom is in splinters; the destroyers which wrecked it actually made their way to safety amid the smoke' and confusion caused by the explosions. Now the fast-breaking dawn discloses a number of slj,m poles cutting the surface of the water. Again the crash of the fire breaks out. It is futile, but the nerves of the gunners will not stand inaction. The defending destroyers charge the submarines, trying to knock away their periscopes and to explode mines close to their hulls. Here and there they succeed. A whale-like snout is thrown out of the water, and sinks again for ever. There is a whirr of| wings overhead. The aeroplanes are up. Soon fountains of water are spouting from where their dropped bombs ex-, plode. But above all the din there arises a dull, muffled roar—a second, a third. Some of the battleships, are hit. One torpedo which missed its mark destroys the caisson of the dock in which the flag-ship is lying for repairs. Worst of all, the fleet has lost its sense of security. It must beiout and fight at any cost. What the firoships were designed to do in the old wars, and seldom did, the submarine can accomplish—at least, if she justifies the hopes of those .who believe in her.