Castles of Steel

by Robert K. Massie

  Meanwhile, twelve hours ahead of the battle fleet, Hipper was sweeping at 15 knots across the North Sea. At first, passing Heligoland, the sea was calm and the weather hazy. At noon, a light rain began to fall. Dutch fishing trawlers were sighted and although Hipper worried that some might be acting as British spy ships, he could do nothing. Toward evening, in rising wind and heavy rain squalls, the German ships passed the Dogger Bank. Showing no lights, the destroyer flotillas closed in on the battle cruisers to provide night protection. When Hipper sighted trawlers carrying navigation lights, he altered course, hoping they would not see the big gray shapes sliding past in the darkness. As the night wore on, German radiomen began to pick up British wireless activity and Hipper worried again that one of the fishing trawlers or perhaps a British submarine had given him away. Nevertheless, emboldened by the knowledge that the main battle fleet was behind him, he steamed forward.

  At midnight, one of the destroyers in Hipper’s van began calling the light cruiser Strassburg, saying, “Have lost touch. Course, please.” In reply, Strass-burg growled, “Stop wireless.” Hipper, hearing the exchange, was enraged. “Doesn’t the ship [the destroyer] know where we’re heading? Can’t they get in touch again at daylight? The fools will give us away.” Silenced, the lost destroyer, S-33, certain that she could not regain contact, reversed course for home. Along the way, however, she had an adventure. At 4:00 a.m., approaching the Dogger Bank from the west, S-33 stumbled into four British destroyers. Thinking quickly, the German captain turned his ship onto a parallel course with the British, hoping to convince them in the darkness that he was one of them. Although he was only 200 yards from the nearest ship, the ruse succeeded, and for twenty minutes S-33 steamed along in company with her enemies before slightly altering course and slipping away. Again breaking radio silence, the lost destroyer signaled Hipper the position of the four destroyers. Hipper was alarmed to learn that a British force was behind him but reasoned that the destroyers could be gobbled up in the morning by the High Seas Fleet.

  An equal concern for Hipper was the rising wind and sea. S-33 had already lost touch and his other destroyers were taking a pounding. Strassburg, now nearing the English coast, reported, “Bombardment off shore not possible owing to heavy sea. Lights visible ahead. Coast not distinguishable. Cannot keep course owing to heavy sea. Turning east.” (The facts were worse than Strassburg reported. Some destroyers had rolled so heavily that they had lost their masts, their main decks were two feet under water, and their torpedo tubes, which had been unloaded, could not be reloaded.) On Seydlitz, Hipper paused to reflect. Strassburg’s Captain Retzmann was trustworthy and his reports and judgment were certain to be accurate. Hipper wondered what to do. Give up the whole enterprise just as he approached his goal? Return home again with nothing accomplished? Hold on with the battle cruisers alone? But could he dispense with the protection provided by light cruisers and destroyers if he sent these smaller ships back to the battle fleet?

  Standing in Seydlitz’s chart room, the admiral turned to consult his first staff officer, Commander Erich Raeder. Before Raeder could answer, however, Hipper made up his mind.

  “We’ll put this through. I’m not going to let my command down.”

  “But the light forces—?” Raeder began.

  “Will be sent back to the main fleet. Only the Kolberg will remain with us. She must get rid of her mines.”

  At 6:35 a.m., Hipper signaled Strassburg, Stralsund, Graudenz, and the seventeen destroyers remaining with him to turn back and join Ingenohl’s main battle fleet.

  [Hipper had not imagined that the main fleet no longer would be waiting at the designated rendezvous. Only with this expectation, Hipper said later in his report, had he “decided in favor of sending the [storm-battered] light forces back over a long and unprotected space of almost 100 miles.”]

  As the light cruisers and destroyers were turning out of the wind onto an easterly course, Hipper divided the remainder of his force. Rear Admiral Tapkin with Derfflinger, Von der Tann, and Kolberg headed south for Scarborough; Hipper with Seydlitz, Moltke, and Blücher turned north, toward Hartlepool. The Southern Group under Tapkin performed its task as assigned. Initially, the battle cruisers were having trouble navigating in the thick mist along the darkened coast. Then, a brightly lighted train running south along the shore provided guidance and led the German ships to within a mile of the Scarborough headland. At 8:06 a.m., they opened fire with their secondary batteries of 5.9-inch guns. Meanwhile, Kolberg moved south and at 8:14 a.m. began to lay a minefield off Flamborough Head from the coast to ten miles out. The purpose was to block possible interference with the bombardment by the Humber or Harwich flotillas and, in the longer run, to disrupt British coastal trade. After firing for half an hour, Derfflinger and Von der Tann turned north for Whitby, where they bombarded the signal station and the town. They met no opposition.

  The Northern Group, Seydlitz, Moltke, and Blücher, had a more difficult experience. At 7:18 a.m., when the German ships first arrived off Hartlepool, Hipper could see the streetlights of the town and the flames of factory furnaces. Hartlepool was known to be a defended port and the young captain of the submarine U-27, which had reconnoitered these waters, was on board the flagship, pointing out to Hipper the location of the 6-inch guns on the headland and other features of the town and harbor. Hipper’s group did not achieve complete surprise. At 7:46 a.m., a signal station at the mouth of the Tees suddenly demanded recognition signals. At 7:55 a.m., four British destroyers appeared out of the mist to the northeast. The German ships opened fire with main and secondary batteries and, amid a storm of 11-inch and 5.9-inch shells, all but one of the destroyers retreated to the north. The remaining destroyer “with remarkable coolness, in spite of heavy fire, renewed the attack,” according to the German naval history. It fired a torpedo and then it, too, turned back into the mist. Thereafter, the bombardment of Hartlepool began. Seydlitz and Moltke, steaming slowly northeast of the town, fired 154 5.9-inch shells and Moltke thirty-eight 11-inch shells at the Heugh Battery. Blücher, to the south, came to a halt in the middle of the bay and fired her 8.2-inch and 5.9-inch guns at the British gun near the lighthouse. The British batteries replied and a brisk artillery engagement ensued. The Heugh Battery hit Seydlitz three times and Moltke once. The lighthouse gun fired so accurately at Blücher that the German ship moved north out of the gun’s arc of fire. At 8:50 a.m., when Hipper’s ships turned out to sea and disappeared, none of the British guns had been silenced. Blücher had suffered four direct hits from 6-inch shells. The bridge and an 8.2-inch turret had been damaged, two 5.9-inch guns were out of action, and nine German seamen had been killed or wounded.

  At 9:30 a.m., Hipper rendezvoused with the Scarborough-Whitby force, Kolberg rejoined, and Hipper signaled Ingenohl, “Operation competed. Course south south east. 23 knots.” At this moment, turning for home, Hipper was about fifty miles to the rear of the storm-beleaguered light cruisers and destroyers he had dismissed three hours earlier. These small ships, even though they were now running before the sea, were still in trouble. For this reason, the light forces had split up, each flotilla or half-flotilla proceeding on its own. Hipper wondered whether he should attempt to regather them about him, but visibility was so poor that he decided to let them continue ahead of him toward the rendezvous with the High Seas Fleet. Wanting precise information as to the battle fleet’s position, Hipper asked one of his officers, “Where is the main fleet?” He could scarcely believe the reply: “Running into the Jade.” Hipper let out “an old-fashioned Bavarian oath,” said Captain von Waldeyer-Hartz. Ingenohl had deserted Hipper; he was alone. Nor was that all. Some of his damaged light cruisers and destroyers out in front—between his battle cruisers and Germany—appeared to be encountering British warships.

  The margin between the British and German fleets in the North Sea was narrower during the last two months of 1914 than at any other time during the war. Audacious had been lost. Four of Jellicoe’s battleship
s were refitting as a result of the strain imposed by constant sea-keeping. Three of Beatty’s battle cruisers had been withdrawn to deal with Spee’s East Asia Squadron. Never again during the whole course of the war was the situation so favorable for a German challenge to the Grand Fleet. The three British admirals most concerned, Fisher, Jellicoe, and Beatty, worried about this margin through November. After the Yarmouth raid, Fisher had a hunch that it was a precursor of things to come. He had always recognized the likelihood of German raids involving fast ships taking advantage of the usually poor visibility in the North Sea. He was certain the Germans would come again once they knew that important capital ships were absent from home waters. In late November, he alerted the navy to the probability of a “flying raid” or an “insult bombardment” against the east coast.

  Jellicoe needed no warning. Convinced, like Fisher, that the Germans must know that Invincible, Inflexible, and Princess Royal were not in the North Sea, he pinpointed December 8 as the optimum day for a raid because the moon and tides would be favorable. Beatty, for his part, was anxious because if Hipper’s battle cruisers came, it would be his responsibility to intercept and engage. The ratio of British to German strength in battle cruisers was far from Beatty’s liking. On November 6, he had received the new battle cruiser Tiger, but this increase was more than wiped out by his loss of the three ships sent to hunt down Spee. Beatty now had four battle cruisers to Hipper’s five (including Blücher). Even Churchill, by nature an optimist, was wary and on December 11, he warned Jellicoe: “They can never again have such a good opportunity for successful operations as at present and you will no doubt consider how best to prepare your forces.”

  The truth was that the Admiralty had more to go on than the First Lord’s intuition. Room 40 had begun to provide useful information. When the German battle cruisers began hit-and-run raiding at Yarmouth on November 4, Room 40 was not yet fully operational, but on the evening of December 14, crucial information was intercepted for the first time. At about seven o’clock that Monday night, Sir Arthur Wilson walked into Winston Churchill’s room at the Admiralty and asked for an immediate meeting with the First Sea Lord and the Chief of Staff. Fisher and Oliver quickly appeared. Wilson explained that Room 40 had pieced together the knowledge that within a few hours, the German battle cruisers and other ships would be putting to sea. There was a strong possibility that the German squadron would be off the English coast at dawn on the sixteenth. But the Room 40 codebreakers did not predict the operation in its entirety. The intercepted signals gave a clear picture of the movements of Hipper’s forces, but damagingly failed to report that Ingenohl would be bringing the High Seas Fleet out as far as the Dogger Bank. Indeed, Wilson, relying on what he had learned from Room 40, told the small group in Churchill’s office that the High Seas Fleet appeared not to be involved. Assuming this to be true, the small group in Churchill’s office decided to respond with less than maximum force. British battleships, battle cruisers, cruisers, and destroyers in sufficient number to deal easily with Hipper’s battle cruisers were assigned to act. At 9:30 p.m. on December 14, the Admiralty signaled Jellicoe at Scapa Flow:

  Good information just received shows that German First [Battle] Cruiser Squadron with destroyers leave Jade River on Tuesday morning early and return on Wednesday night. It is apparent from information that battleships are very unlikely to come out. The enemy force will have time to reach our coast. Send at once, leaving tonight, the Battle Cruiser Squadron and Light Cruiser Squadron supported by a Battle Squadron, preferably the Second. At daylight on Wednesday they should be at some point where they can make sure of intercepting the enemy during his return. Tyrwhitt, with his light cruisers and destroyers, will try to get into touch with the enemy off the British coast and shadow him, keeping the Admiral informed. From our information, First [German Battle] Cruiser Squadron consists of four battle cruisers and there will probably be three flotillas of destroyers.

  Another telegram, sent to Tyrwhitt at Harwich, instructed him to have his light cruisers and destroyers under way off Harwich “before daylight tomorrow.” A third telegram went to Keyes, dispatching eight submarines with their controlling destroyers, Lurcher and Firedrake, to the island of Terschelling off the Dutch coast to guard against a German move south into the Channel.

  Jellicoe obeyed. The 2nd Battle Squadron, commanded by Vice Admiral Sir George Warrender, included the six newest and most powerful ships in the navy, the dreadnoughts King George V, Ajax, Centurion, Orion, Monarch, and Conqueror. The four fast, modern light cruisers of the 1st Light Cruiser Squadron, Southampton, Birmingham, Nottingham, and Falmouth, commanded by Commodore William Goodenough, had been bloodied at the Battle of the Bight. From Cromarty came Beatty’s 1st Battle Cruiser Squadron, now reduced to Lion, Queen Mary, Tiger, and New Zealand. And from Harwich, Tyrwhitt was ordered to put to sea with his light cruisers, Aurora and Undaunted, and two flotillas with a combined forty-two destroyers.

  The force selected was immensely powerful, but Jellicoe was worried and annoyed by this division of his fleet; the Commander-in-Chief wished to take the entire Grand Fleet to sea. Jellicoe knew that all his many battle squadrons would not be required to deal with Hipper alone. But who could tell how reliable the Admiralty’s new intelligence source might be? It was Jellicoe’s permanent conviction that to preserve British naval supremacy the Grand Fleet must always be concentrated. The six dreadnoughts of the 2nd Battle Squadron, points out James Goldrick, “were precisely the sort of [detached] force that the Germans dreamed of being able to isolate and destroy.”

  [Normally, there were eight ships in a British dreadnought battle squadron. But the 2nd had been reduced to six, first by the sinking of Audacious on October 27, and then by the sending of Thunderer on December 8 to Devonport for the retubing of her condensers.]

  The Admiralty dispositions—it seemed to Jellicoe—“were giving them that chance.” When Jellicoe protested, the Admiralty made a gesture: still forbidden to bring down the whole Grand Fleet, he was permitted to bring out as insurance Rear Admiral William Pakenham’s 3rd Cruiser Squadron from Rosyth, the four armored cruisers Antrim, Devonshire, Argyll, and Roxburgh.

  Ultimately, after events had proved Jellicoe correct about bringing out the entire Grand Fleet, Churchill attempted to defend the Admiralty’s bad decision: “A great deal of cruising had been imposed on the fleet owing to the unprotected state of Scapa and it was desirable to save wear and tear of machinery as much as possible. Moreover, risks of accident, submarine and mine which were incurred every time that immense organization went to sea, imposed a certain deterrent on its use except when clearly necessary. The decision was, in light of subsequent events, much regretted. But it must be remembered that the information on which the Admiralty was acting had never yet been tested, that it seemed highly speculative in character, and that for whatever it was worth, it excluded the presence at sea of the German High Seas Fleet.”

  Although the Admiralty determined the strength of the force, Jellicoe remained in operational command and it was he who selected the rendezvous point, twenty-five miles southeast of the Dogger Bank in the middle of the North Sea. With over 300 miles of English coastline exposed, no one could predict where Hipper would strike. Jellicoe therefore selected the position most favorable for intercepting the German battle cruisers on their return. The rendezvous point was about 180 miles west-northwest of Heligoland and 100 miles southeast of Scarborough on the English coast; the British squadrons were to be at this position at 7:30 on the morning of December 16. Unbeknownst to anyone on either side, this spot “was only thirty miles south of the dawn rendezvous point Admiral von Ingenohl had chosen for the High Seas Fleet.”

  For the purpose of intercepting Hipper’s returning ships, the rendezvous point was the best that could have been chosen. Churchill, writing later, gives the impression that it was the Admiralty that placed the ships in position to intercept; in fact, it was Jellicoe. The important point, however, is that both the Admiralty a
nd the Commander-in-Chief had coolly decided in advance that they would not attempt to defend English seaside towns; their intention, rather, was to intercept the raiders as they returned home. This meant that the Germans would be able to bombard largely without opposition whatever towns or targets they chose. The Admiralty, applying war’s grim calculus, was prepared to accept this damage in exchange for the destruction of Hipper’s scouting groups. This decision, of course, was unknown to the citizens of Scarborough, Hartlepool, or Whitby and to the British press and general public, which, in the wake of the bombardments, asked, Where was the navy? The secret, whose purpose was to withhold from the Germans the knowledge that their codes had been broken and that Britain had early knowledge of German fleet movements, remained undisclosed until after the war.

  Because Jellicoe remained at Scapa Flow with most of the Grand Fleet, command of the intercepting force went to Vice Admiral Sir George Warrender, commander of the 2nd Battle Squadron and second in rank to Jellicoe in the Grand Fleet. It was Warrender who on July 29 had been entrusted to bring the fleet to Scapa Flow, when the Commander-in-Chief, Sir George Callaghan, was summoned to London. An experienced and respected officer, Warrender had made his battle squadron the fleet’s most efficient in gunnery. Nevertheless, given the complexities of modern naval warfare and the rapidity with which decisions had to be made, Warrender should not have been in command. His mind worked gradually and his responses were further slowed by a growing deafness. Goodenough, the light cruiser commodore, praised Warrender as possessing “an imperturbability that no circumstances could ruffle.” But a young lieutenant aboard Southampton put Admiral Warrender’s “imperturbability” in a different context when he wrote to his father, a retired admiral, that Warrender “never spoke in peacetime because he was deaf and everyone thought he must be thinking a lot. When war came, everyone said, ‘Good gracious, what was he doing the whole time?’ ”