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                            FROM DARTMOUTH
                          TO THE DARDANELLES




SOLDIERS’ TALES OF THE GREAT WAR

Each volume cr. 8vo, cloth. 3_s._ 6_d._ net.


 I. WITH MY REGIMENT. By “PLATOON COMMANDER.”

 II. DIXMUDE. The Epic of the French Marines. Oct.-Nov. 1914. By
 CHARLES LE GOFFIC.

  _Illustrated_

 III. IN THE FIELD (1914-15). The Impressions of an Officer of Light
 Cavalry.

 IV. UNCENSORED LETTERS FROM THE DARDANELLES. Notes of a French Army
 Doctor.

  _Illustrated_

 V. PRISONER OF WAR. By ANDRÉ WARNOD.

  _Illustrated_

 VI. “CONTEMPTIBLE.” By “CASUALTY.”

 VII. ON THE ANZAC TRAIL. By “ANZAC.”

 VIII. IN GERMAN HANDS. By CHARLES HENNEBOIS.


  LONDON: WILLIAM HEINEMANN
  21 BEDFORD STREET, W.C.




                            FROM DARTMOUTH
                          TO THE DARDANELLES

                          A MIDSHIPMAN’S LOG


                               EDITED BY
                              HIS MOTHER


                                LONDON

[Illustration: LOGO]

  WILLIAM HEINEMANN




  _First Published June 1916._
  _New Impressions July, September, October 1916._


_London: William Heinemann, 1916._




                              _FOREWORD_


_THE responsibility for the publication of this book lies with me, and
with me alone. I trust that that great “Silent Service,” one of whose
finest traditions is to “do” and not to “talk,” will see in it no
indiscretion._

_To state that these pages make no claim to literary merit seems almost
superfluous, since they are simply a boy’s story of ten months of the
Great War as he saw it. In deference to the said tradition the names
of officers and ships concerned have been suppressed—those of the
midshipmen mentioned are all fictitious._

_The story has been compiled from a narrative written by my son during
a short spell of sick leave in December 1915. Considering that all his
diaries were lost when his ship was sunk, it may at least be considered
a not inconsiderable feat of memory. Originally it was intended only
for private circulation, but many who have read it have urged me
to put it into print; and I have decided to do so in the hope that
their prediction that it would prove of interest to the public may be
justified._

_In so far as was practicable, I have tried to tell the story in my
son’s own words; but it may possibly be argued that at times words
and phrases are such as would not normally be used by a boy of barely
sixteen. To that charge I can only reply that in the main even the
words are his own, and I have faithfully reproduced his ideas and
opinions._

_Those who have come in contact with the boys who left us as children,
and returned to us dowered by their tremendous experiences with
knowledge and insight so far in advance of their years, will find
nothing incongruous in reflections commonly foreign to such extreme
youth. It is one of the logical results of the fiery crucible of War._

_Let it be remembered that these boys have looked Death in the
face—not once only, but many times; and that, like our soldiers in
the trenches—who no longer say of their “pals” “He is dead,” but only
“He has gone west”—they have learned to see in the Great Deliverer not
a horror, not an_ end, _but a mighty and glorious Angel, setting
on the brows of their comrades the crown of immortality; and so when
the call comes they, like Sir Richard Grenville of old, “with a joyful
spirit die.”_

_What would be unnatural is that their stupendous initiation could
leave them only the careless children of a few months back._

_The mobilisation of the Dartmouth Cadets came with a shock of rather
horrified surprise to a certain section of the public, who could not
imagine that boys so young could be of any practical utility in the
grim business of War. There was, indeed, after the tragic loss of
so many of them in the_ Cressy, _the_ Aboukir, _and the
_Hogue, _an outburst of protest in Parliament and the Press. In
the first shock of grief and dismay at the sacrifice of such young
lives, it was perhaps not unnatural; but it argued a limited vision.
Did those who agitated for these Cadets to be removed from the post of
danger forget, or did they never realise, that on every battle-ship
there is a large number of boys, sons of the working classes, whose
service is indispensable?_

_It seemed to me that if my son was too young to be exposed to such
danger, the principle must apply equally to the son of my cook, or my
butcher, or my gardener, whose boys were no less precious to them than
mine was to me._

_In the great band of Brothers who are fighting for their country and
for the triumph of Right and Justice there can be no class distinction
of values. Those who belong to the so-called “privileged classes” can
lay claim only to the privilege of being_ leaders—_first in the
field and foremost at the post of danger. It is the only possible
justification of their existence; and at the post of danger they have
found their claim to priority hotly and gloriously contested by the
splendid heroes of the rank and file._

_Presumably the Navy took our boys because they were needed, and no
one to-day will feel inclined to deny that those Dartmouth Cadets have
abundantly proved their worth._

_For the rest, if there be any merit in this record, the credit lies
with the boy who provided the material from which it has been written:
for any feebleness, inadequacy, or indiscretion the blame must fall on
that imperfect chronicler—_

  _HIS MOTHER_




                     CONTENTS


 CHAP.                                        PAGE

    I DARTMOUTH COLLEGE                          1

   II MANŒUVRES                                 12

  III THE BEGINNING OF THE “REAL THING”         24

   IV WE JOIN OUR SHIP                          34

    V ALARUMS AND EXCURSIONS                    49

   VI WE LEAVE HOME WATERS                      65

  VII FROM EGYPT TO MOMBASA                     88

 VIII THE BOMBARDMENT OF DAR-ES-SALAAM         118

   IX ORDERED TO THE DARDANELLES               130

    X IN ACTION                                140

   XI THE SINKING OF THE SHIP                  152

  XII HOME                                     165




CHAPTER I

DARTMOUTH COLLEGE


MY first term at Dartmouth commenced on the 7th of May 1914—previously
I had, of course, been through the regulation two years at Osborne
College in the Isle of Wight.

Most of my term-mates came down from London by the special cadet train,
and I should have greatly preferred to have travelled with them, but my
home was so far away that I had to do the journey in solitary state,
and when I arrived at Kingswear Station at 9.30 on that beautiful
spring evening, I found myself a belated last comer.

A servant had been sent to meet me, and when he had collected my
luggage we embarked on the _Otter_, one of the steamboats belonging to
the College, which was lying alongside the pontoon. The passage of the
river Dart only took a few minutes, and we landed at Sandquay, where
are situated the engineering shops, in which no small proportion of my
brief time at Dartmouth was destined to be spent. Compared with the
collection of low, one-storied, bungalow-like buildings which comprise
the Osborne premises, the College, standing high upon a hill above
the river, appeared to me a very imposing structure, and pleasantly
suggestive of a distinct advance towards the goal of my ambitions—a
goal destined to be reached so swiftly, and by such unexpected paths,
as I at that moment little dreamed of.

A long flight of stone steps leads up through the grounds from
the workshops, and after climbing these I found myself in the big
entrance-hall of the College, where I was met by a warrant officer, who
took me to his office, and, after filing my health certificate, showed
me the way to the vast mess-room where the five hundred or so of cadets
in residence have all their meals. Here I had supper, consisting of
cold meat and bread-and-cheese; and when I had finished, the gunner
took me to my dormitory, pointed out my sea-chest and bed, and then
left me to turn in.

By this time it was about 10.30, my messmates were all asleep, and the
long room was only dimly illuminated by the “dead lights” which are
kept burning all night, as no matches or candles are allowed. Removing
my boots, I tiptoed round the chests adjoining mine to see by the
nameplates who my immediate neighbours might be, and then, folding up
my clothes in regulation fashion, I jumped into bed and was soon fast
asleep.

At 6 o’clock next morning we were all awakened by the réveillé, and
trooped down in a body to the bath-rooms for the cold plunge with
which, unless excused by doctor’s orders, every cadet must begin the
day. Then, having been informed by the senior cadets who were placed in
authority over us that if we were not dressed in one and a half minutes
the consequences would be unpleasant, we threw on as many clothes as
possible, and ran out of the dormitory surreptitiously carrying boots,
ties and collars, and finished dressing in the gun-room. Then we waited
about, greeted friends, and exchanged reminiscences of the past “leave”
until summoned to breakfast at 7.30.

This meal was served in the mess-room in which I had had my supper the
night before, and we all scrambled and fought our way up some stairs to
a gallery where were situated the four long tables reserved for the use
of the junior term.

Breakfast over, the cadet captains (who correspond to the monitors of
our public schools) showed us over the College grounds, and drew our
attention to the various rules, regulations, and notices posted up
at different points. We also paid a visit to the canteen, where may
be purchased ices, buns, sweets, and similar delicacies dear to all
schoolboys. As a more detailed description of my first day would not
be particularly interesting, I will just describe one in mid-term as
fairly typical of the College routine.

At 6 o’clock, roused by the réveillé, we scurry to the bath-room,
take the prescribed cold plunge, and then dress. Hot cocoa and ship’s
biscuit are served in the mess-room and followed by an hour’s study.
At 7.30 “fall in” in the long corridor called the “covered way,” which
leads from the dormitories to the mess-room. All the other terms having
gone in to breakfast, our particular batch of cadets is called to
“attention.” Then comes the order: “Right turn! Double march!”—and
helter-skelter, as fast as we can lay foot to the ground, we rush along
the hundred yards of corridor to the mess-room door and fight our way
through that narrow opening. Woe betide the unfortunate who falls in
the _mêlée_! He will get trampled on by all behind, and when finally he
is able to rise to his feet, dazed and bruised, after the rush has gone
by, he will be assisted on his way by the unsympathetic toes of the
cadet captain’s boots. Moral: Keep your footing!

After a brief grace we fall to and devour porridge with brown sugar and
fresh, creamy, Devon milk, rolls and butter, supplemented by kippers,
bacon and eggs, or some similar fare.

As no grace is said after breakfast, each cadet is at liberty to leave
as soon as he has finished, and to repair to his own gun-room until
the bugle sounds for divisions at 9 o’clock. At the call we all “fall
in” by terms in the big hall which is called the quarter-deck. The
Lieutenant of each term then inspects his cadets and reports to the
Commander that they are “correct,” after which the Commander in his
turn reports the whole six terms to the Captain. Then the Chaplain
comes in, the Commander calls all present to “attention,” and gives the
order “Off caps.” The Padre gives out the number of some familiar hymn,
and, after a few verses have been sung, he reads some short prayers.

Then caps are replaced, and, in obedience to the word of command, the
respective terms in order of seniority march off to the studies.

Let it be supposed that my term has to go to the engineering works at
Sandquay on this particular morning.

Procedure is as follows: “Divisions” over, we fall in on a path
outside the College and the Engineer Lieutenant marches us down to the
workshops. Dismissed from marching order we go into the lobby and shift
into overalls, after which we repair in batches to the various shops.
Here we construct and fit together parts of the many different types of
marine engines; dealing in the process with such work as the casting,
forging, and turning of steel and brass.

After two hours of this practical work we shift out of our overalls,
resume our uniform jackets and caps, and go to one of the lecture-rooms
where, for the remaining hour an engineer officer instructs us in
the theory of motors, and turbines, and various other engineering
technicalities. Then we are again fallen in outside the shops and
marched up to the College, where we have a “break” of a quarter of an
hour in which to collect the books required for the succeeding hour of
ordinary school work.

One o’clock finds us once more assembled in the covered way to double
along to the mess-room for lunch.

After this meal every one must stay in his place until grace is said,
when each term rises in order of seniority and doubles out of the
mess-room to the different gun-rooms.

It may be here noted that everything at Dartmouth is done at the
“double,” _i.e._ at a run. Strolling around with your hands in your
pockets after the fashion of most public schools is of course not
allowed in an establishment where naval discipline prevails.

After half an hour allowed for digestion we collect our books and go to
the studies for another two hours’ work.

At 4 o’clock we are mustered again for “quarters” as at “divisions” in
the morning, and when dismissed double away to shift into flannels for
recreation.

The choice of play and exercise is very varied, but no one is allowed
to “loaf.” Every cadet must do what is called a “log,” and the manner
in which he has spent his recreation time is duly entered against his
name each day. The “log” in question may consist of a game of cricket,
a two-mile row on the river, two hours’ practice at the nets followed
by the swimming of sixty yards in the baths, or a set of tennis or
fives.

Any cadet who cannot swim must learn without delay. The bath, eight
feet deep at one end and three feet at the other, is thirty yards long.
It is opened at 6 p.m., and there is always a large attendance. A
spring board for diving is provided, as well as various ropes suspended
six feet above the water by means of which the more agile spirits swing
themselves along, as monkeys swing from tree to tree.

All exercise is purposely strenuous, for the four years’ preparation
is a test of physical as much as of mental strength, and every year
some boys are “chucked,” to their bitter disappointment, because they
cannot attain to the standard of physical fitness indispensable for the
work they, as naval officers, would be expected to perform. Defective
eyesight is one of the commonest causes of rejection, for it is obvious
that full normal vision is essential for the Navy.

On the river there is the choice of two kinds of boat—five-oared gigs
and skiffs. A long and muddy creek, known as Mill Creek, branches off
from the river just above the College. Great trees overhang its banks
on either side and, if one cares to risk disobedience to orders, a very
pleasant way of passing an afternoon is to tie up one’s boat in the
shade and settle down with a book and some smuggled cigarettes. But it
is well to remember that the tide here is very treacherous. Once I saw
three cadets marooned on a mud-bank quite forty yards from the water’s
edge.

At 6.30 every one must be within the College buildings, and by a
quarter to 7 all cadets must have shifted into proper uniform and be
ready for tea.

At 7.30 there is “prep.,” which lasts till 8.30, when the “cease fire”
bugle sounds. Then the band plays on the quarter-deck, and there is
dancing till 9, after which every one “falls in” for five minutes’
prayer. Then the terms double away to their dormitories. At 9.30 the
Commander goes “rounds,” and every one must be in bed. As soon as he
has passed lights are put out and the day is over.




CHAPTER II

MANŒUVRES


THIS summer term of 1914, destined surely to be the most momentous
in the whole history of the College, nevertheless pursued its normal
course until July 18, on which date began the great test mobilisation
of the “Fleet in being,” to which we had all been eagerly looking
forward for some weeks.

It is, perhaps, too soon to speculate on the influence which this most
opportune concentration of sea power brought to bear on the course
of the War. Was it due to foresight? Was it a deliberate warning to
trespassers not to tread on Great Britain’s toes? Or was it just a
gorgeous piece of luck? Who shall say? Certainly not a mere “snottie”!
Anyway, it is a matter of history that after manœuvres the Fleet was
not demobilised, with the result that the swift, murderous assault on
our open sea-coast towns which, judging by the light of subsequent
