大象传媒

Dummy warheads

Until this point in our training, so far as I recall, we had been riding the chariots in their shortened version. This meant that the five-foot long warhead that fitted on to the nose of the chariot hadn't been joined on. It was as if you had sliced off the front quarter of a torpedo, the part with the explosive inside, and had divers mounted on the rest, sitting over the batteries and with the propulsion aft of them. But now that we were to proceed to the next stage, that of attacking the ship, it was important that we should have dummy warheads fitted at the bows, to give the correct feel.

The warhead was attached with an action similar to that used to fasten on the cap on a radiator tank, or the lid of certain kinds of jam jar. It was easiest to do so in the water, when jeep and warhead were both buoyant, provided that there wasn't much in the way of waves to bounce them around. In addition to the locking effect of tongues and grooves all round the warhead, there was an extra safeguard in the form of a kind of lever that was pulled home with a crowbar. These were the new skills we now had to learn; I found the warhead awkward to manhandle into position, even in the water. I had to satisfy myself that it was firmly attached to the rest of the chariot, and would not work loose, even in a seaway. Pearcy had to work the crowbar, and stow it away in the locker aft, with the magnets and the pressure cutter and hose.

As we moved away on the jeep to make our first attack on the ship, I noticed at once how differently the chariot, now five feet longer in the front, responded to the controls: much more slowly. The long warhead seemed to want to keep going on the path taken hitherto, while the rudder appeared too feeble to make its effect felt. As we trimmed down to neutral buoyancy with a hint of positive, I was running through the changes in underwater handling that I would have to make allowances for. Sure enough, once we were below, the chariot continued to handle as stubbornly as on the surface, not only for turns, but also for diving and rising. The new bows acted like a set of hydroplanes fixed in position, and therefore acting against alterations in direction. Torpedoes themselves had the reputation of being doubtful direction-keepers; and these derivations from their basic model were behaving likewise. So I took two or three practice runs underwater at ten to twenty feet before I signalled that I was ready to carry out the approach on Tites.

From near the anti-submarine net I took a bearing on the ship; the warhead pointed straight at her starboard quarter. The compass, only a small affair with poorer markings than we really needed, gave me a reading, which I memorized. I turned to Pearcy, grunted at him with a thumb up, and he thumped me once in the back. The attack was on. I switched to half-ahead, set the planes to slow dive, and the waters closed above us - a foot, two, four, eight - level off on the planes - ten, twelve, thirteen, twelve again - don't let her rise, mustn't break surface., come what may. We glided through the green translucence, alone.

I told myself we must keep going until we got to the ship. I was determined not to give away my position to the skiff, on my first attack dive. The chariot was keeping trim wonderfully, steady at thirteen feet. The translucent light remained steady; I held to my compass bearing. We glided on, and on. I could hear the sounds from Tites somewhere ahead, but not in any precise direction; sound underwater in the human ear seems very diffuse. But it didn't get any louder. Was it in fact getting fainter? For now we had been running in underwater for quite a long time. How long? We had no clock on the jeep, and were not issued with a watch for our wrists. I tried to estimate. Surely we must be there soon. But one minute went by; then two. What had happened? Had I slipped off my bearing? But no; I was still dead on. Another minute. Then, to my astonishment, the seabed appeared, getting quickly shallower; Pearcy thumped me at the same moment, no doubt having seen it too.

I surfaced at once. Ahead of me was the shore of Loch Corrie, up towards the head of the loch. I looked round. Tites lay astern of us, and the skiff was racing and bouncing across the waves, to meet up with us.
'Where d'you think you're off to?' Jimmy shouted.
I gesticulated in a pantomime dumb show of surprise and irritation.
'Tites is astern of you,' Jimmy remonstrated, as the skiff drew alongside.
I tried to show that I had set out on a course to run into Tites, but now found myself here and couldn't understand how.
'Did you take a bearing on Tites?' he asked.
I nodded vigorously.
'And kept to it underwater?'
I nodded again emphatically, grunting to show how certain I was of this.
'Then you've got a dud compass,' Jimmy commented. 'Go back to where you started from, and attack again. But do it by feel this time. Take a shorter run-in too.'

Fuming at my inefficient, malevolently misleading compass, I turned the jeep around and made for a point somewhere between the anti-submarine nets and the ship. On the way there, I tried diving and holding compass direction two or three times, but I noticed that each time my true direction swung around, when I surfaced. Something was definitely wrong. I would have to hold my course by feel, and listen for the sounds of Tites, and hope. Perhaps I could take a peep from the surface half way, without the jeep noticing me.

This time I had to hit the target. So I lined up the chariot, ran at visor depth for twenty or thirty yards to make sure I was holding my bearing, then dived. We were in translucent green again, but it soon began to darken. The depth was constant; it must be the ship. Noises increased, and became more varied. The green darkened further. I got the feel of something massive not far away. Quite suddenly the dark metal plates forming the side of the ship were there, before me on my left; the lines of rivets too. The nose of the chariot collided with Tites, sending a great clang through the water, and forcing the bow upwards. Our momentum took us alongside, however, and Pearcy was ready with a magnet that he clamped on to the nearest plate, dragging it along as we continued to move. I turned off the motor, and felt the other magnet at my shoulder. Grabbing it, I hastened to plant it on the ship's side too. We were still rising. With my other hand, I pumped out a trifle from the main trim. The movement ceased; we had made it to Tites.

Slowly, we pushed ourselves lower, scraping with our legs down the ship's side as we held on with them to the chariot below us. Here and there we could help our passage down by gripping the edge of the plates. At last we were down at bilge keel. I pumped in a little more air to compensate, anxious not to have negative buoyancy when we were under the ship. Gingerly we passed our heads underneath, the chariot gripped between our knees. Once fully under, we sought a good grip for our magnets, then slipped off the jeep, holding it by the shield and the main tank. I guffed some air into the main tank, and the machine bobbed up against the ship's bottom and rested there. We had made it underneath.

Taking my bearings, I decided we were too far forward. I put the motor into reverse, and the shield and tank top scraped along the underside of Tites as we moved slowly aft to the warm water point. I signalled to Pearcy, and he set magnets just inboard of the bilge keel. From the locker I took out the mooring rope, handed it to him, and then moved closer to the warhead. Pearcy took the crowbar from the locker, and undid the locking arm, then returned it. We were ready for the transfer. Together we wrestled with the warhead until the tongues began to ease out of the grooves.

Suddenly the head was free, bouncing up to the ship's bottom - plenty of positive buoyancy had been put in to prevent our losing them. I glanced uneasily at the jeep, in case it was now negative; but it held steady: no problem there. Meanwhile Pearcy was making sure of the rope lashing the warhead by its top rail to the two magnets, drawing it snugly up against the bilge keel. I swam to the other side of the head, to 'set the clock' to the routine four hours; in action this would be the irrevocable fusing the explosive. The final action was to attach a small buoy on a rope to the rail on the warhead, and let it float up to the surface. This would enable the skiff to haul off the dummy warhead, magnets and all, for further use.

We climbed back on the jeep, forcing it away from the ship's bottom. When I vented the air from the main tank, we dropped away quite quickly, but I set the motor at top speed, and the trim motor to positive for a few moments, and soon the darker green water was giving way to ever lighter hues. A hundred yards from Tites we surfaced, and gave the skiff our thumbs up. First attack done, and a feeling of great satisfaction as we circled round and made for the pontoon alongside the port side of Tites.

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