66 [COPYRIGHTED] U. S. NAVAL INSTITUTE, ANNAPOLIS, MD. PLANTING A WAR GARDEN By CAPTAIN W. T. CLUVERIUS, U. S. Navy Ready for getting underway, sir." Cold, raining, blowing. To meet all three conditions the captain was encased in overcoat, oilskins, and a windproof suit. "Heave round," he said, as he reached the bridge. "A bit wetter if anything," casually remarked the commander, "and this chilly breeze means more snow on Ben Wyvis." "Cheer up,” replied the captain, "it's another day.” Since June the sun had been seen all day on two occasions and the wind had never stopped its noise in Cromarty Firth from the time the Yankee Mining Squadron had arrived in Scotch waters. Half the force made port at Invergordon. Here are a naval dockyard and a town grown from 600 to 6000 during the war. Further up the firth, at the base, a thousand enlisted men assembled the "pills of perdition." Anchored below the dockyard, at a respectable distance, are the planters, loaded with 3000 mines and awaiting the word. Dark at 3.30 in the afternoon and morning colors at 9-so they can be seen-there are still several hours of darkness remaining as the ships, without light or signal, heave up and stand out according to plan, as the Hun says. Time was in the summer when we could read flag signals all night long and it was mighty hard to get our men quiet on those sunshiny nights. There was no watch below. We are content now if we pick up the beacons on the ill-fated Natal sunk in the harbor in 1916, and point fair for the gates in the boom defences. Cromarty Firth is well protected with three nets stretched between the Sutors. On either side, these mountainous cliffs, pierced with guns, tower above the narrow channel through which we steam in single column. Behind us is a screeching of gate-tenders' whistles as the gates are closed and we head for the rendezvous at the sea buoy. From the southward, proceeding out of Inverness Firth, loom the dark shapes of the other ships of the force, with the squadron flagship San Francisco in the lead. Inverness is the Highland capital. Here at the mouth of the Caledonian Canal our men, as at the other base, assembled mines for the ships at the Beauly Basin and Munlochy anchorages near the city. Here also the commander of the mine force has headquarters, with the Black Hawk as his flagship. These two bases, leased by the British Admiralty, are operated wholly by our men, and the Stars and Stripes flies over our admiral's office. The mines reach the bases by rail and canal from a fleet of carriers which discharge at the west coast ports of Kyle and Corpach. Here they are assembled, adjusted, tested, and delivered to the planters in lighters. In the dead of night, then, the rendezvous is made at the Whistler, where already a flotilla of British destroyers is silently waiting for us-black blotches on a blacker landscape. Double column is taken by the planters, 400 yards interval and distance. To the right are the San Francisco, Roanoke, Housatonic, Aroostook, and Quinnebaug; to the left are the Shawmut, Saranac, Canandaigua, Canonicus, and Baltimore. Ahead is the leader of the escort, the Vampire, and disposed close aboard on the flanks are the destroyers of the flotilla. We follow the swept channel courses northward through Moray Firth and no signals needed until the 10-fathom curve is reached. A blinker tube flashes a beam; we slow to one-third speed for a few moments, out paravanes," then resume speed. We who exist to sow mines guard ourselves most scrupulously against reaping mines others have sown. We never move without our "fish" dashing along beside us and often against us and sometimes under us in a mad chase after each other. But they do give one a feeling of security, especially through areas the Hun is known to have mined. They work, too. One mine, with our cargo-pouff! Daylight is upon us now and the rain stops, but the dropping wind means fog. Give us rain, give us wind, we beg for dark |