The Coming Conquest of England

by August Niemann

  The squadron proceeded at full speed to the north-west. The torpedo division D 5 reconnoitred in advance, the small, swift boats being followed by the cruisers Prinzess Wilhelm and Irene, which from their high rigging were especially adapted for scouting operations and carried the necessary apparatus for wireless telegraphy. The rest of the fleet, whose speed had to be regulated by that of the Konig Wilhelm, followed at the prescribed intervals.

  When the sharp outlines of the red cliffs of Heligoland appeared, the German cruiser Seeadler came from the island to meet the squadron and reported that the coast ironclads Aegir and Odin, the cruisers Hansa, Vineta, Freya, and Hertha, together with the torpedo-boats, had set out from Wilhelmshaven during the night and had seen nothing of the enemy. The sea appeared free. All the available English warships of the North Sea squadron had advanced to attack Antwerp.

  Since the transport fleet did not appear to need reinforcements, it proceeded on its way west-north-west with its attendant warships, the Wilhelmshaven fleet remaining at Heligoland.

  What was its destination?

  Only a few among the many thousands could have given an answer, and they remained silent. The red cliffs of Heligoland had long since disappeared in the distance. Hours passed, but nothing met the eyes of the eagerly gazing warriors, save the boundless, gently rippling sea and the crystal-clear blue vault of heaven, stretched above it like a huge bell.

  “What is our destination?”

  It could not be the coast of England, which would have been reached long ago. But where was the landing to take place, if not there? To what distant shore was the German army being taken, the largest whose destinies had ever been entrusted to the treacherous waves of the sea?

  When daylight again brought a report from the scouts that the enemy’s ships were nowhere to be seen, the Commander-in-Chief of the army could not help expressing his surprise to the Admiral that the English had apparently entirely neglected scouting in the North Sea, and further, that they did not even see any merchant vessels.

  “The explanation of this apparently surprising fact is not very remote, Your Excellency,” replied the Admiral. “We should hardly sight any merchantmen, since maritime trade is now almost entirely at a standstill, owing to the insecurity of the seas. We have not met a flotilla of fishing-boats, since in this part of the North Sea there are no fishing-grounds. We see none of the enemy’s ships, since the English have most likely calculated every other possibility except our attempting to land in Scotland.”

  “Your explanation is obvious, Herr Admiral; nevertheless, it seems to me that our enemy must have neglected to take the necessary precautions in keeping a look-out.”

  “Your Excellency must not draw an offhand comparison between operations on land and on sea. The conditions in the latter are essentially different. I do not doubt for a moment that there is a sufficient number of English scouts in the North Sea; if we have really escaped their notice, the fortune of war has been favourable to us. I may tell Your Excellency that, even during our manoeuvres in the Baltic, where we know the course as well as the speed and strength of the marked enemy, he has sometimes succeeded in making his way through, unseen by our scouts. Perhaps this will mitigate your judgment of this apparent want of foresight on the part of the English.”

  At last, on the evening of the 16th of July, land was reported by the Konig Wilhelm. The end of the journey was in sight, and the news spread rapidly that it was the coast of Scotland rising from the waves.

  “We are going to enter the Firth of Forth,” was the general opinion. Even the brave soldiers, who perhaps heard the name for the first time in their lives, repeated the word with as important an air as if all the secrets of the military staff had been all at once revealed to them.

  In the red light of the setting sun both shores appeared tinged with violet from the deep-blue sky and the grey-blue sea, the north shore being further off than the south. Favoured by a calm sea, the squadron, extended in close order to a distance of about five knots, made for the entrance of the Firth of Forth.

  Full of expectation, the expeditionary army saw the vast, bold undertaking develop before its eyes. For nine hundred years no hostile army had landed on the coast of England. Certainly, in ancient times Britain had had to fight against invading enemies: Julius Caesar had entered as a conqueror, Canute the Great, King of Denmark, had subdued the country. The Angles and Saxons had come over from Germany, to make themselves masters of the land. Harold the Fairhaired, King of Norway, had landed in England. But since the time of William of Normandy, who defeated the Saxons at Hastings and set up the rule of the Normans in England, not even her most powerful enemies, neither Philip of Spain nor the great Napoleon, had succeeded in landing their troops on the sea-girt soil of England.

  Would a German army now succeed?

  The outlines of the country became clearer and clearer; some even believed they could see the lofty height of Edinburgh Castle on the horizon. But soon the distant view was obscured and darkness slowly came on.

  Hitherto not a single hostile ship had been seen. But now, when the greater part of the squadron had already entered the bay, the searchlights discovered two English cruisers whose presence had already been reported by the advance boats of the torpedo division.

  In view of our great superiority, these cruisers declined battle, and by hauling down their flag, signified their readiness to surrender. From the sea, nothing remained to hinder the landing of the troops. The transports approached the south shore of the bay, on which Edinburgh and the harbour town of Leith are situated; and, after casting anchor, landed the troops in boats by the electric light. The infantry immediately occupied the positions favourable to meet any attack that might be made. But nothing happened to prevent the landing. The Scottish population remained perfectly calm, so that the disembarkation was completed without disturbance.

  The population of Leith and the inhabitants of Edinburgh, who had hurried up full of curiosity, beheld, to their boundless astonishment, a spectacle almost incomprehensible to them, carried out with admirable precision under the bright electric light from the German ships.

  The people had taken the keenest interest in the great war of England against the allied Powers—Germany, France, and Russia—but with a feeling that it was a matter which chiefly concerned the Government, the Army, and the Navy. They were painfully aware that things were going worse and worse for them, but were convinced that the Government would soon overthrow the enemy. Everyone knew that the Russians had penetrated into India, but the great mass of the people did not trouble about that. It could only be a passing misfortune, and trade, which was at present ruined, would soon revive and be all the more flourishing. But the idea that an enemy, a continental army, could land on the coast of Great Britain, that German or French soldiers could ever set foot on British soil, had seemed to Scotsmen so remote a contingency that they now appeared completely overcome by the logic of accomplished facts.

  About noon on the following day the two army corps were already south of Leith. A brigade had been pushed forward towards the south; the rest of the troops had bivouacked, that the men might recuperate after their two days’ sea journey.

  The quartermasters had purchased provisions for ready money in the town, the villages, and the scattered farmhouses. The warships filled their bunkers from the abundant stock of English coal, guardships being detached to ensure the safety of the squadron. The Admiral had ordered that, after coaling, the warships should take up a position at the entrance to the bay, the transports remaining in the harbour. In the possible event of the appearance of a superior English squadron the whole fleet was to leave the Firth of Forth as rapidly as possible and disperse in all directions. Certainly in that case the army would be deprived of the means of returning, but the military authorities were convinced that the appearance of an army of 60,000 German troops on British soil would practically mean the end of the war, especially as an equally strong French corps was to land in the south. The mili
tary authorities consequently thought they need not trouble themselves further about the possibility of the troops having to return.

  The garrison of Edinburgh had surrendered without resistance, since it would have been far too weak to offer any opposition to the invading army. Accordingly the German officers and soldiers could move about in the town without hindrance. A number of despatches and fresh war bulletins were found which threw some light upon the strategic position, although they were partly obscure, and partly contained obvious falsehoods.

  A great naval battle was said to have taken place off Flushing on the 15th of July, ending in the retreat of the German and French fleets with heavy losses. It was further reported that the British fleet had destroyed Flushing and bombarded several of the Antwerp forts. Lastly, according to the newspapers, the English fleet which had been stationed before Copenhagen had entered Kid harbour and captured all the German ships inside, the loss of the English battleships at the Kieler Fohrde being admitted. The German officers were convinced that only the report of the loss of the two battleships deserved credit, since the English would hardly have invented such bad news. Everything else, from the position of things, bore the stamp of improbability on the face of it.

  The trumpets blew, the soldiers grasped their arms, the battalions began their march. The batteries clattered along with a dull rumble. In four columns, by four routes, side by side the four divisions started for the south.

  XXXIV

  THE BATTLE OF FLUSHING

  The strategy of red tape, by which the Commander-in-Chief’s hands were tied, was destined, as in so many previous campaigns, to prove on this occasion also a fatal error to the English.

  Sir Percy Domvile, the British admiral, had received with silent rage the order of battle communicated to him from London—the same order that had fallen into the hands of the Germans. More than once already he had attempted to show the Lords of the Admiralty what injury might be caused by being tied to strict written orders in situations that could not be foreseen. He now held in his own hands the proof how little the officials, pervaded by the consciousness of their own importance and superior wisdom, were disposed to allow themselves to be taught. But he was too much of a service-man not to acquiesce in the orders of the supreme court with unquestioning obedience. Certainly, if he had been able to gauge in advance the far-reaching consequences of the mistake already committed, he would probably, as a patriot, rather have sacrificed himself than become the instrument for carrying out the fundamentally erroneous tactics of the plan of battle communicated to him. For more was now at stake than the proud British nation had ever risked before in a naval engagement. It was a question of England’s prestige as the greatest naval power in the world, perhaps of the final issue of this campaign which had been so disastrous for Great Britain. All-powerful Albion, the dreaded mistress of the seas, was now fighting for honour and existence. A great battle lost might easily mean a blow from which the British lion, wounded to death, would never be able to recover.

  . . . . . . .

  At the time when the Konig Wilhelm entered the Kaiser Wilhelm Canal at the head of the German transport fleet, the Prince-Admiral, who had hoisted his flag on the Wittelsbach, led the fighting fleet from the harbour of Antwerp into the Zuid Bevelanden Canal, which connects the East and West Schelde, and separates the island of Walcheren from Zuid Bevelanden. Anchor was then cast.

  His squadron consisted of the battleships of the Wittelsbach class—Mecklenburg, Schwaben, Zahringen, Wettin, and Wittelsbach (the flagship of the Prince-Admiral), and the battleships of the Kaiser class—Kaiser Wilhelm der Grosse, Barbarossa, Karl der Grosse, Wilhelm II., and Friedrich III.

  These ironclads were accompanied by the large cruisers Friedrich Karl, Prinz Adalbert, Prinz Heinrich, Furst Bismarck, Viktoria Luise, Kaiserin Augusta, and the small cruisers Berlin, Hamburg, Bremen, Undine, Arcona, Frauenlob, and Medusa.

  The torpedo flotilla at the Prince’s disposal consisted of the torpedo-boats S 102 to 107, G 108 to 113, S 114 to 125, with the division boats D 10, D 9, D 7, and D 8, built on the scale of destroyers.

  The three fast cruisers Friedrich Karl, Prinz Adalbert and Kaiserin Augusta, with the torpedo-boats S 114 to 120, had been sent on as scouts, to announce the approach of the enemy in good time. The cruisers had been ordered to post themselves thirty knots west-north-west of Flushing at intervals of five knots, while the torpedo-boats patrolled on all sides to keep a look-out. After having reported the approach of the English fleet to the main squadron by wireless telegraphy, the scouts were to retire before the enemy out of range into the West Schelde, and at the same time to keep up such a fire in their boilers that the clouds of thick smoke might deceive the enemy as to the size and number of the retiring ships. When out of sight of the English, they were to wheel round and show themselves, and, if circumstances permitted, take up the positions previously assigned them; otherwise they were to act according to circumstances.

  The object of this manoeuvre, calculated to mislead the enemy, was completely attained.

  A signal informed the Prince-Admiral that the English were in sight, and a torpedo-boat detached from the scouting squadron brought more exact information as to the number and formation of the enemy’s ships—information which exactly corresponded with the instructions given in the order of battle, and was a fresh proof that it was intended to adhere to them.

  This provided a sure foundation for the tactical operations of the German fleet. No alteration was necessary in the course of action decided upon at the council of war on the previous day, and no fresh instructions had to be issued to individual commanders.

  The order of battle settled at this council of war ran, in the main, as follows:—

  “The squadron will lie at anchor off Zuid-Beveland, fires banked, so that they can get up steam in a quarter of an hour. The battleships will anchor in double line, according to their tactical numbers. The cruisers between Nord-Beveland and Zuid-Beveland. The torpedo-boats with their division boats behind.

  “At the signal ‘weigh anchor’ the ships carry out the order according to their tactical number; the battleships through the Roompot; the cruisers will re-enter the West Schelde through the canal and lie off Flushing athwart.

  “The two other torpedo-boat divisions will accompany the squadron.”

  The course of events developed exactly in accordance with these dispositions.

  When the approach of the enemy’s ships was announced, the Prince-Admiral’s flaghip signalled: “Weigh anchor! hoist top pennants! clear for action! follow in the Admiral’s wake! cruiser division and torpedo-boats execute orders!”

  Keeping close under the coast of Walcheren, the German squadron, full steam up, advanced to meet the enemy.

  Meanwhile the approaching English, having left their hospital and munition ships and colliers in the open under the protection of the cruisers and taken up their appointed positions, opened fire at a distance of about 6,000 yards on Flushing and Fort Frederik Hendrik.

  The English Admiral adhered so strictly to his instructions that, with an incomprehensible carelessness, he neglected to search the East Schelde with his second squadron, or even with his scouts. The entry of the German ships which had been sent back from the open into the West Schelde, evidently appeared to Sir Percy Domvile a sufficient confirmation of the assumption that the whole German fleet was in this arm of the river’s mouth, for the clouds of smoke which they emitted rendered an accurate computation of their strength impossible.

  Thus, the Prince-Admiral’s squadron was enabled to approach the enemy so far unobserved that it would be able to take the British fleet in the flank, when it had reached the west point of Walcheren.

  At the signal: “Full steam ahead!” the German ships in the formation agreed steamed against the surprised English, and opened fire from their bow-guns. Naturally, the English Admiral at once ordered the first squadron to take up its position behind the second, turned left with both, and went to meet the ene
my in double line.

  This was the opportune moment, foreseen in the Prince’s plan of battle, for the advance of the cruisers lying in the West Schelde. In order to deceive the enemy as to their number, they rapidly approached, accompanied by the torpedo-boats which again sent up their clouds of smoke. The English Admiral, completely surprised by the double attack, was obliged to divide his attention.

  Certainly this torpedo attack was still a hazardous undertaking, under existing conditions. The English shot well, and two German boats were sunk by the enemy’s shells. Three others, however, hit their mark, damaging three of the English ships so severely that they were incapable of manoeuvring.

  It was especially disadvantageous to the English that their torpedo-boats, owing to the unforeseen change in the formation of the battleships, were deprived of the necessary protection. The German destroyers were not slow to make full use of this favourable situation, and began to chase them. In this engagement, which the speed of the little vessels rendered especially exciting for those who took part in it, the pursuers succeeded in destroying four English torpedo-boats without themselves suffering any damage worth mentioning. The others escaped, and, for the time, might be regarded as out of action.

  The enemy having altered his front, the Prince-Admiral had turned right about, so that he might enter into action with all the guns of one side. The English Admiral also doubled, but the manoeuvre proved the cause of a fatal misfortune. Whether the disturbance of the tactical unity by the loss of the three torpedoed vessels was the cause of it, or whether the first and second divisions were unaccustomed to manoeuvre together, the Formidable carried out orders so clumsily, that she was rammed amidships by her neighbour the Renown, and immediately heeled over and sunk in a few minutes, carrying hundreds of brave English sailors with her into the deep.