The Dardanelles Conspiracy

by Alan Bardos

  ‘I need to tell you that I am to be attached to a frontline unit and will be leaving as soon as arrangements can be made.’

  ‘Oh, Laszlo, no.’ Esther broke their embrace. ‘That is your reward for discovering the negotiations.’

  ‘You have done everything that you can to keep me safe, but I must do my duty,’ Breitner said and suddenly had no idea why.

  ‘And your duty means everything to you,’ she said softly.

  Breitner tried to hold her, but she resisted. ‘No, not everything, Esther. I want you to be safe – secure financially should anything happen to me. Enver has guaranteed a line of credit for your father’s company and granted an extension to its contract. That is my true reward and my gift to you.’

  She at last yielded and held him tight for a moment, before letting go with a final lingering kiss on the cheek.

  Chapter 30

  Sir George Smyth walked out of his room and watched the growing pandemonium in the Admiralty building with quiet amusement. People who had been civil servants two days previously were rushing to get their affairs in order before being sent off to war.

  Plucked from their comfortable billets, these poor unfortunate clerks faced what was ahead of them with a mixture of bewilderment and stoic adventure. They were, after all, being sent on an unexpected holiday from the boredom of office life.

  Sir George didn’t doubt that similar scenes were being played out across Westminster. Lord Kitchener had, after a great deal of deliberation, kept his promise to provide troops for the Expeditionary Force. General Sir Ian Hamilton, one of Kitchener’s cronies, was to lead it and a scratch staff was being pulled together for him and dispatched to Charing Cross Station.

  Sir George’s assistant among them, delaying his receipt of the latest dispatch from Fitzmaurice. The whole thing was a bloody nuisance and now completely unnecessary.

  He strolled through the chaos to the First Lord’s office. Sir George had called a meeting between himself, Churchill, Hankey and Fisher so he could present his startling news, away from ‘Blinker’ Hall. Who might try to take credit for Sir George’s master plan.

  They were seated around the fire as Sir George entered. Churchill was talking with Hankey, but broke off to acknowledge Sir George.

  ‘Smyth, what’s that you’re clutching, more paper? Where would you civil servants be without it?’

  ‘Indeed, First Lord. I’ve received an extraordinary communication concerning my operative in Constantinople. He’s met with both Talat and Enver Pasha.’

  ‘Enver, charming fellow!’ Churchill said interrupting Sir George. ‘I met him once, when he came to England. Do you know he had the temerity to question the power of the Royal Navy? He said that Britain needed a great army to be a great power!’

  ‘Well, now he’s experienced the power of the Royal Navy Enver Pasha is willing to negotiate, so our carrot and stick strategy has prevailed.’ Sir George hoped that would flatter his Chief without giving him the full credit.

  ‘What makes you so sure that he is suddenly willing to talk?’ Hankey put in coldly.

  ‘Well, aside from the obvious financial remuneration I instigated, I’m told that the Turks are suffering a shell shortage. Perhaps that has made them more receptive to our overture for peace.’ Sir George looked triumphantly at Hankey.

  ‘And what evidence do you have to make such an extraordinary claim?’ Hankey asked. Sir George thought he almost sounded flustered.

  ‘As I explained, my operative met with Enver Pasha and was informed of their shortage of shells. The Germans are not upholding their part of the alliance, it would seem.’

  ‘Very good, so there is some purpose to you after all, Smyth.’ Churchill laughed.

  ‘If I may continue, First Lord,’ Sir George felt himself clutch the file in his hand a little too tightly. He controlled his impatience and savoured the interruption. The delay to his great triumph only increased his anticipation. ‘My operative in Constantinople has also reported that Talat Pasha is willing to meet our people in Bulgaria.’

  Sir George paused to glance at Hankey. This was his moment, after all the slights and insults he had endured. ‘Once we secure Turkish capitulation, we can rally the Balkans states to our cause, tipping the balance of –’

  A sharp knock at the door interrupted Sir George, as he was about to complete his coup. He swung round and glared at the intruder. Hall was blinking impatiently at him. He'd barged his way into Sir George’s meeting clutching his own document, as if it could possibly trump his own.

  ‘Hall, you can’t just charge in here like some drunken sailor.’ Sir George stamped his foot.

  Hall ignored Sir George. ‘Forgive the intrusion, First Lord, First Sea Lord. I thought you should see this straight away.’

  ‘What is it?’ Fisher asked.

  ‘A Room 40 decryption of a VB signal, First Sea Lord.’ Hall reached across Sir George to hand Fisher the sheet of paper. ‘It’s a telegram from the Kaiser to Admiral Unsedom, the Inspector-General of the Dardanelles coastal defences.’

  Fisher snatched the paper from Hall and read out the relevant points. ‘The Dardanelles report has been received by the Kaiser. Everything is being done to send the ordnance. Politically we must maintain an assured line with the Ottoman Empire. His Majesty asks that you apply pressure along those lines.'

  Fisher held the telegraph high and fluttered it in the air as if it was the news of the second coming. 'By God, I'll go through tomorrow!'

  ‘When is the signal dated, Hall?’ Hankey asked.

  ‘Yesterday, 12 March,’ Hall replied, ever the precise harbinger of doom.

  Churchill took the telegram from Fisher and read it, absorbing every ounce of intelligence it could give him. 'But surely that means they've come to the end of their ammunition!’

  'On the morrow.' Fisher was practically doing a jig. 'I wager we’ll lose six ships, but we’re going through the Dardanelles!'

  Churchill cheered. 'Let’s get the orders sent out, Fisher. There isn't any excuse for a lack of progress, if the Turks can’t shoot back. Although tomorrow, I fear, might be too soon.'

  Fisher sat at Churchill’s desk to write out the orders. Sir George was mildly amused by the old man’s sudden display of dynamism. ‘If I might interject, First Lord, there may not be a need for such orders to be issued.’

  Churchill glanced at Sir George remembering that he was present. ‘Oh yes, Smyth, what was it you wanted to report?’

  ‘The Turkish Government has agreed to discuss our offer. Once that is settled…’

  ‘And how much have you offered them for their gracious departure from the war?’ Churchill asked impatiently, interrupting Sir George again.

  ‘A sizeable amount, I imagine,’ Sir George always found discussions about money rather squalid and middle-class.

  ‘You imagine?’ Hankey had no such scruples, ‘Smyth, do you have a precise figure to report to the First Lord of the Admiralty?’

  ‘A hundred thousand pounds or so I’d imagine. I left the specifics to Hall.’ Sir George was becoming infuriated by this need to discuss every trifling detail.

  ‘It was actually four million pounds,’ Hall said blithely.

  ‘How much?’ Churchill scowled. Sir George stifled a grin. Hall might actually have taken too much upon himself.

  Hall didn’t miss a beat. ‘I sent our representatives to Constantinople with a note for three million pounds, First Lord, with the provision to go up to four if necessary.’

  ‘Who authorised that?’ Churchill boomed.

  ‘I authorised it myself, First Lord.’ Hall stood ramrod straight. He was not intimidated by Churchill’s anger.

  ‘Are you saying that no one, least of all your superiors – let alone the cabinet, had knowledge of the amount of money you were offering an enemy power?’ Churchill was stunned.

  Hall bore this scrutiny well. He had done his duty to the best of his abilities and nothing less. The sum he had offered was vast. Sir George begrud
gingly admired both Hall’s initiative and willingness to take responsibility for it.

  ‘I’m sure even the Cabinet would agree it is a fair price for peace with Turkey and safe passage through the Dardanelles.’

  Churchill stood up and moved to his desk, where Fisher was busily writing out the orders, oblivious to what his subordinate had said. Churchill banged his hand on the desk to get Fisher’s attention. ‘Did you hear what Hall has done? He's offered the Turks four million pounds for the Dardanelles!’

  Fisher glanced up. ‘Four million pounds, absolutely not. We don’t have time for that now, we’re going through as soon as possible. Hall, send a telegram to Greece and cancel the negotiations at once.’

  Sir George coughed and stepped in. ‘First Sea Lord – Admiral Fisher, we have a wonderful opportunity here to knock Turkey out of the war, open the Dardanelles up to Russia and secure a state-of-the-art German battle cruiser, without further risk to our ships and men. Surely four million pounds is cheap at the price, compared with the loss of six ships?’

  ‘Obsolete ships, Smyth.’ Fisher, however, looked thoughtful for a moment. ‘On second thoughts continue the negotiations for the Goeben... how much do you think, Hall?’

  ‘One hundred thousand pounds, First Sea Lord. Considering we’re at their front door, that’s more than reasonable.’

  ‘Is that not rather hasty? Can we be so sure that the intercepted telegram means that the Turks are short of munitions?’ Sir George argued, employing all the skill he could muster as a career diplomat. ‘Could it not be interpreted that Germany and Turkey’s relationship has become so strained that the Germans have to keep their alliance propped up with more and more material?’

  ‘Of course it means they are short of munitions!’ Hankey stifled Sir George’s last-ditch defence. ‘Were you not just brandishing a message from your operative announcing the very same thing? Straight from the horse’s mouth – forgive me, what was his name?’

  ‘Swift, Johnny Swift,’ Sir George spluttered. He’d been hoisted on his own petard and Swift had lit the fuse.

  Hankey smiled grimly. ‘I’d say Swift has done exemplary work, risking his life to obtain this vital piece of intelligence, wouldn’t you, Smyth?’

  ‘He has done no more or no less than I would expect from one of His Majesty’s Civil Servants,’ Sir George said begrudgingly. ‘He is however now a member of His Majesty’s armed forces and facing very grievous charges.’

  ‘Yes, the worst, which I’m sure is why he volunteered to go on this mission and clear his name,’ Hall said and blinked at Sir George, daring him to challenge his judgment.

  ‘I think in that case fair play must prevail and the charges against him washed out for gallant conduct in the field,’ Hankey said primly.

  ‘Hear-hear,’ Churchill barked. ‘Have the necessary paperwork drawn up, Smyth.’

  ‘Swift is in Bulgaria so I’m not sure what can be done at the moment. Also, he is a serving officer in the Army so the charges against him, for fraternising with the enemy and espionage, should be dealt with by the Army.’

  Hall tut-tutted condescendingly. ‘I can’t foresee any great difficulties there. Not when the First Lord of the Admiralty has given his support.’

  Sir George nodded curtly. There was no point in explaining how much of a tremendous swine Swift was. After his confirmation that the Turks were suffering a shell shortage, they would have forgiven him anything and Sir George wondered if he might be able to use that.

  ‘Swift has reported that the alliance between Germany and Turkey is very fragile, which is also borne out by Hall’s telegram. All that is required is the gentlest of touches and we can achieve all our objectives. Any further attempt on the Dardanelles Strait may damage the negotiations, especially now that we’ve got the Turks to the table.’

  Churchill snorted in frustration, ‘What say you Hall, you’re the expert in this kind of skulduggery?’

  ‘Forcing the Dardanelles Strait is a tricky business, First Lord, but we have no guarantee that the negotiations will succeed. Especially with Constantinople off the table, and while we are sitting on our hands, the Germans will be resupplying the Turks,’ Hall said, clapping his false teeth together and reminding Sir George of a crocodile from a Punch and Judy show, something which Sir George had loathed and feared since childhood.

  ‘This is surely the perfect opportunity for you to prove Enver Pasha wrong, First Lord,’ Hankey added tactfully. ‘A country such as ours with a small army and large navy can engage the much larger Turkish army with the support of the big guns of our navy and triumph.’

  Churchill chuckled. ‘That would put a crimp in the fellow’s swagger. Yes, I think we’ve entertained this side show of yours long enough, Smyth. It is time to focus on the matter at hand. I am concerned as to whether our attacks on the Dardanelles are being forced home.’

  ‘Please, First Lord.’ Sir George almost whimpered, he couldn’t believe that this was the culmination of all his hard work. ‘May I just…’

  Hankey silenced him with a wave if his hand. ‘Be quiet, Smyth. You are nothing more than a mild irritation here. Your views and advice are at best derivative, at worst they are a hindrance.’

  Churchill glared at Sir George, reminded of something. ‘Yes, what use are you? Now your pet project has fallen by the wayside.’

  ‘Perhaps a move to munitions, we have our own shell shortage,’ Hankey suggested dryly.

  ‘Nonsense, a man his age should be in uniform,’ Churchill said.

  ‘Stout fellow,’ Fisher mumbled.

  ‘Yes, you can go out with Hamilton to Gallipoli, be my eyes and ears out there. We’ll get you fixed up as a commander in the Royal Naval Reserve. If you hurry, you should be able to catch the train from Charing Cross Station at 5, with all the rest of his staff.’

  ‘Commander! You want to send me out as a Commander!’ Sir George had listened to the conversation in impotent rage, but the thought of being a lower rank than Hall was too much. ‘My Civil Service grade is at the very least equivalent to that of a Commodore!’

  ‘Commander is damned more than you deserve, considering you have done nothing to earn it!’ Fisher barked.

  Sir George blinked back his tears and held his breath. Any further protest would only highlight his bitterness. He had failed, he was thirty-five and his career was effectively over. He’d met his Waterloo, ten years younger than Napoleon when he met his. Sir George would never achieve the brilliance of his potential. His only destiny now was to become another drunken cynic angry at the world. The really galling thing was that little twerp, Swift, was getting off scot-free.

  Hankey raised an eyebrow. ‘Beware the ides of March, old chap.’

  Sir George threw the communication from Constantinople on the fire and watched it turn to ash. He looked into the faces of the men around him, something dark stirring in the pit of his stomach. 'May I make one last request?'

  Chapter 31

  ‘Gentlemen,’ Talat Pasha planted his wrists on the table as he addressed the meeting. ‘I am prepared to remove the mines from the Dardanelles Strait and surrender it to allied shipping. We shall also arrange for the transfer of the German battlecruiser formally known as the Goeben, undamaged to the Allies. I believe the figure agreed for this was three million pounds sterling.’

  Whittall glanced at Eady. Johnny thought he saw a glimmer of discomfort pass between them. They seemed unsure how to proceed. ‘Unfortunately, Excellency, we have still to formally agree a sum.’

  Talat raised a hand to dismiss Whittall’s statement. ‘That is beside the point. I am willing to make these concessions, for a nominal fee, in return for the guarantee that the sovereignty of Constantinople will remain with the Turkish people.’

  Whittall coughed, embarrassed, and Eady answered for him. ‘Excellency, the conditions you have outlined are tantamount to making a separate peace, with the Allies, from your alliance partners. We have been instructed to suspend such discussions.’


  ‘But that is absurd, we have been discussing what is “tantamount to a separate peace” with your representatives in Constantinople.’ Talat pointed a finger at Johnny, who became acutely aware of the power of the man. ‘You have brought me here under false pretences.’

  ‘I’m sorry Excellency, I was instructed to offer the terms we discussed.’ Johnny wondered if this was some deliberate ploy of Sir George to embarrass and discredit him further. Or to provoke Talat into ripping him limb from limb.

  ‘Surprisingly this is not the fault of Mr Swift. London has altered the terms of the negotiations,’ Whittall said.

  ‘Changed the terms? But where is your good faith?’ Talat smirked. ‘Your British sense of fair play?’

  Whittall bridled, ‘Our instructions from London are explicit. We are not authorised to discuss any form of separate peace.’

  ‘What exactly are you in a position to negotiate, gentlemen? Or have you just brought me here for a master class in the workings of perfidious Albion?’

  Gerald Fitzmaurice uncoiled himself to take part in the proceedings. ‘We wish purely to discuss the purchase of the Goeben.’

  Talat looked curiously at Fitzmaurice. ‘You want our battlecruiser and that is all you have brought me here for? You think that you can break through, without negotiating a safe passage. But, gentlemen, you are not in the position of power you think, your much-acclaimed navy has so far been repulsed.’

  ‘I can’t comment on that, only the purchase of the battlecruiser.’ Fitzmaurice spoke with an underlying contempt for Talat and everything he stood for.

  ‘What guarantee would you offer me in return for our ship?’ Talat spoke with equal disdain.

  ‘We are not mandated to make any guarantees. We can only offer you a financial incentive for her surrender,’ Fitzmaurice responded.

  ‘What if she is not for sale, not for financial compensation, but for the guarantee that Constantinople will be left in our control?’

  'We are willing to offer one hundred thousand pounds for the Goeben.'