BIG GUN PRACTICE ON BATTLESHIPS

Taranaki Daily News, Volume LV, Issue 253, 15 March 1913, Page 1 (Supplement)

BIG GUN PRACTICE ON BATTLESHIPS

FASCINATING WOEK. _ In the current issue of the North American Review there is an interesting article -by Mr. Robert W. Neeser on "American Naval Gunnery," in the course of which he writes:— Let us for a moment imagine ourselves at target practice; on board that grim vessel of war cleared for action. Everything on deck has been removed—stanchions, davits and railings—boats hoisted on the upper deck, deadlights boarded over and ventilators taken down. Battle ports are tightly shut, and everything movable down below has been 'stored away—electric fans and lights, washbowls, looking-glasses, pictures and china all laid in a storeroom out of harm's way. As the ship nears the ranges the alarm gongs ring, sounding general quarters; bugles eall officers and men to their stations. Everyone drops what he is doing and rushes to his .place. All seems ! confusion, but it is only an orderly confusion in which each one knows exactly what he is to do. Then, with all in readiness, you await the anxious mo- J ment. The whistle blows, and the workbegins. You are inside that low. cramped chamber, called a turret; standing in the narrow passage, not two feet away from one of the 12-ineh guns. It is tlie only place where you can be without interfering with everyone. About you in the dim light of the battle lanterns you see the gun crew. Joking, but talking in whispers, they do not appear nervous or anxious about the test that is to begin. You fee] the massive turret revolving slowly, and smoothly beneath you, Ibut see nothing outside. Eleven inches of steel are between you ana daylight. ' NO CONFUSION. At the word of command from the quiet-voiced officer in charge, all is action, but no confusion, no hurry. Metallic rumbling sounds from the depths of . the ship 'announce that the shells and powder bags are being loaded upon the car; the trap-door to the handling-room opens its steel jaws as the ammunition car rushes up into 'place before the breech of the gun, which has meanwhile been opened. In goes the SCO-pound shell and the 320 pounds of powder. The breech is shut, the car has disappeared bclowed, the shutter is again closed, and the big piece is ready. All so quickly that you instinctively look at your watch to see whether they have made a; new record. You hear a dull roar—it takes you by surprise, not expecting it so soon—you feel the turret swerve to one side, see the gun leap back in recoil and instantly go back into battery, hear a whirring sound as.the compressed air expels the burning gases through the muzzle—then all is action again. So easy, you think; mere child's play. But it is a skill that come only after months and months of hard, conscientious training. As the gun goes off you do not feel much of the tearing displacement of air outside, the "blast"; the steel wall of the turret protects you from the results of the explosion of all that powder. But it is on deck that you get the full benefit of all that you cannot see or feel inside, you strain your eyes, keeping them on the muzzle as you wartch for the blast. Will it never come? you ask yourself. But it does come, and always when you least expect it. The white flame appears brighter than anything you have ever seen; a tremendous cloud of yellow gas rushes out of the muzzle, and the roar shocks you. With good glasses you can readily pick up the shell, follow it right along through the air, and see it pierce the target screen. An enormous geyser hundreds of feet high leaps into the air. Then another and another as the shell ricochets, and each mites further away. A PKCITJAR ROAR. With it all conies a peculiar roar. It sounds more like the rush of an express train as it dashes in and out of tunnels and up and down varleys. And before you have lost sight of it comes another flame, another deafening roar, more geysers—and so it goes on until the whistle blows the "("'ease liring!" and it is all over. Then the ship swir.gs around, the gun crews pour out of the tops of turrets, and crowd to the rail to see what they have done. A mighty* cheer goes up when the good news is known —then the ship resumes her place in line, and Hie next one lives in her turn. Day living is glorious, but it is nothing compared with night target, practice with the torpedo defence batteries. The method of holding it is the same, except that the targets are illuminated by searchlights from the liring ships. It is a. beautiful scene. The beams of the .searchlights and the llight of the "tracers" present a spectacle you have never dreamed of before. The idea of using tracers seems to have been an American invention. An F.nglish newspaper has described (hem as consisting "of a. small metal cylinder screwed into the hasp of the shell, containing a secret tion largely formed of magnesium. As the sheil leaves the muzzle it shows a light:, which continues burning throughout the trajectory of the shot through the air." And thus the exact llight of each projectile can he watched in its course to the target.

Tbe Hash by night is more blinding than in tlie daytime, the explosions far more - penetrating, and the. guns fired so -apidly that you have not time to recover from one before the next gow off.