"Green Balls" : The Adventures of a Night-BomberBewsher, Paul
History
"Green Balls" : The Adventures of a Night-Bomber
Bewsher, Paul
World War, 1914-1918 -- Aerial operations
Over towards the dark olive groves of Gaba Tepe--those olive groves
which so long sheltered a great gun whose position could not be
discovered--lies the grey outline of a battleship. It can be seen that
it is slightly out of the perpendicular, and a little puff of vapour
comes from it as the steam-pressure in the boiler is released to avoid
explosion. Slowly it tilts over till it is at an angle of forty-five
degrees to the water. Every now and then a gun flashes on it as the
gunners fire at the submarine which has attacked it. The dark shapes of
destroyers draw nearer and nearer to it. It lies stationary at a deep
angle for a little while, and then begins to turn over at a slow
deliberate speed; lower and lower it falls, until for a moment it lies
flat on the surface, and then ... all we can see between us and Gaba
Tepe is the blue water on which move the little destroyers, evidently
picking up survivors. The most splendid sight is to see the little
flashes on board as the gunners, true to their traditions, keep their
guns in action to the last.
We watch the tragedy in silence: it seems difficult to realise that in
the last few minutes we have seen the destruction of a powerful vessel,
with a crew of eight or nine hundred men on board. A solemn feeling
pervades the ship, and there is no laughter among us.
We pass a transport steaming out of Mudros Bay and signal to it. Quickly
it sweeps around, and returns to the little island, moving at full
speed in great zigzags. The menace of the sea has rendered the blue
sparkling water of the Ægean a dangerous home for any boat. No longer
can we lie at ease day after day off the sun-baked hills of Gallipoli.
We must needs live a tip-and-run life,--do our work, and return to
safety behind submarine defences.
So, with the grey shadow of sublime Samothrace hanging above the sea to
our right, we sail into the peace of Mudros Bay, round which the
thyme-scented hills of Imbros lie sleeping in the afternoon sun.
THE END.
PRINTED BY WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS.
Transcriber's note:
_Underscores_ have been used to indicate _italic_ fonts.
Inconsistent hyphenation and accents have been left as written.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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