They could not understand his lastcomment. The Charge had been a magnificent example of true British heroism. Ithad succeeded in its failure! The last statement was often made, they knew -and few chose to question it or to attempt to understand it.
They became almost impatient with LordPerceval – England must win. Anything else was inconceivable. The EmpireOn Which The Sun Never Set – always with capital letters – was not to bedefeated by a mere crippled Kaiser. It was up to government and military toremember that reality and take the correct course of action, which must bethere to be found.
“Then how do we win in France, my lord?”
“We wait, sir. Eventually, one trusts, theblockade of Germany will force them to desperation. At that point they musttalk or they must mount a massive attack. If they go onto the offensive, theymay well take ground; they will lose hundreds of thousands of irreplaceablemen.”
“Years of stalemate on the Western Front,my lord! That is not the course of honour! We must advance!”
Simon gave an appraising glance at thelittle, fat, red-faced sixty year old who had never risked his own preciouslife in war, took pains not to allow his contempt to show. It was easy forthose at home to shout for the path of duty and honour as the sole way forward.
“It is better than futile deaths on thewire, sir. The trenches are impregnable under current conditions. Create newweapons and it may be possible to breach them. At the moment, it is not.”
They joined the ladies, found themdiscussing the poverty of goods available in the better stores. They did notknow what the world was coming to, it seemed.
“Captain Sturton! How long will it be beforethese appalling submarines are swept from the seas?”
“Many years, ma’am. We have yet todiscover the means of destroying them. Our sole hope is to keep them at adistance by patrol. We have too few ships to provide safe passage of theAtlantic.”
“I had always thought Britannia to rulethe waves, Captain Sturton!”
“One, perhaps, of many delusions wesuffered before this war, ma’am. We are doing our very best, I assure you. Itis not impossible that the policies of governments before the war will be shownto have been misguided. The dreadnought is not the be all and end all of seapower, it would seem.”
That was a statement akin to blasphemy.The ladies stared and rapidly turned the conversation to topics lessdistressing.
The party broke up eventually and theremaining gentlemen found themselves downstairs alone, a last whisky to hand.
“Saying that the dreadnought might not bethe greatest of warships, capable of winning the war for us, Simon! Shocking!”
The Viscount shook his head in mockhorror.
“What have you against the greatbattleships, Simon, other than being a small ships man yourself?”
“Rusting piles of magnificence, sir, sat inScapa Flow and doing what? How have the battleships contributed to this war,sir? They are a liability, hidden away from submarine and minefield and doingnothing to kill Germans. That, after all, is what the war is about, and theoverwhelming number of our battleships have never so much as seen a Hun. Theycost money and waste manpower and do nothing. They are not even a threat,because we all know they will never sail unless the German High Seas Fleetmoves first. They are in a defensive role, solely. If we fear the High SeasFleet, then we should build more submarines and place them to patrol off theKiel Canal. The best thing we could do with the battleships is to disarm them,to send their guns to where they could be useful. Put them aboard railway trainsbehind the Trenches, there to provide the poor men in the lines with theartillery they need.”
“A radical proposal, Simon. I fear thatthe politicians could never accept it. They have spent tens of millions onbuilding the battleship fleet – they cannot now say it is useless. It has to bethe weapon that will win us the war, at least as far as the newspapers are concerned.”
They retired, wondering in just how manyother houses in the country the same words were being said and ignored by thenation’s leaders.
Simon returned to the war refreshed,knowing that his next long leave would see him married. He rather thought hewould welcome that. He was called to Commodore Tyrwhitt as soon as he appearedaboard the depot ship.
“Your Canning has risen in the world, asexpected, Sturton. Gone in command of Lairgs, in one of the Queensferryflotillas. You have a solid man in his place, Strachan, come down from Scapa,senior in a light cruiser flotilla leader there. Knows the work in theory and agood seaman – you know what the weather is like up there, half a gale moreoften than not. Scots, but not uncouth with it. Malcolm is a commissionedengineer now and has responsibilities in the half-flotilla – they will reportto him before going to the dockyard with their troubles. I expect him to staywith you for a year or so before being given another stripe and put into alight cruiser.”
“Glad to hear that, sir. Malcolm is one ofthe best.”
“So I have noticed from your personalreports on the man. Now, the yard has given you a better searchlight and hasimproved your wireless installation. You should be able to contact Harwich fromthe Dutch borders. As far as an aircraft gun is concerned, they have taken awayyour Maxim, which is a bit on the old-fashioned side, these days. They havereplaced it with a sort of lashed-up experiment, to my mind. It is set up forhigh-angle use and can be fired as part of the broadside as well – a dualmounting. Thing is, Sturton, it’s French! A Hotchkiss cannon, a bit less than atwo incher, they call it a thirty-seven. About a two pounder.
