Ingenohl, too, had reached a decision. At 06:45 he ordered the fleet to bear away to the south-east at maximum speed.
It had to be accepted that our main body (i.e. the High Seas Fleet) had been sighted. As a result of the high speed of our advance, 15 knots, a large (coal) smoke cloud hung over the fleet and was highly visible. Our own screening forces were weak and in contact with modern enemy reconnaissance forces that could not be overcome. It was highly likely that during the next night the English destroyers would attack the German (i.e. Heligoland) Bight and as the night are particularly dark this would probably lead to ship losses.
An advance by day to join with the Commander of the Reconnaissance Force (i.e. Hipper) was without pressing grounds and did not correspond with the orders from the All Highest about the use of the High Seas Fleet.
In other words, everyone was going home except Hipper, who was being left to look after himself. Ingenohl’s reference to the All Highest* refers to the Kaiser’s specific instructions that his fleet was not to be risked in general actions, but this failed to satisfy many people, including Tirpitz and the Navy’s official historian, who pulled the rest of his argument to pieces. Never again would the High Seas Fleet be presented with such a favourable opportunity.
Meanwhile the British destroyers, led by Commander Jones aboard the Shark, continued to probe the German screen, which had now become Ingenohl’s rearguard. At one point they opened fire on five German destroyers but when the armoured cruiser Roon intervened they were forced to turn away. They maintained contact at longer range and attempted, unsuccessfully, to signal details of the enemy’s movements to Admiral Warrender. Visibility began to deteriorate, varying between one and four miles. Roon, the command ship of the enemy screen, attempted to take advantage of this by leading a counter-attack on her tormentors with three light cruisers, but Jones increased his speed to 30 knots and bore away to the north. Finally, the Germans turned eastwards after their retiring fleet and disappeared from view in the murk.
It had been an interesting night’s work. On both sides ships had been damaged but none had been lost and casualties had been minimal. Yet in its way the encounter had been decisive.
* All Highest (Altesse) was one of the Kaiser’s forms of address. Wry German humour had it that on Sundays the All Highest communed with the All High.
CHAPTER 6
Dawn Bombardment – The German Bombardments of Scarborough, Whitby and Hartlepool
Along the north-east coast of England the afternoon of 15 December 1914 merged into a grey, raw mid-winter dusk. There was an unpleasant sea running, smashing its way into the foot of the cliffs or rolling up the beaches with a roar of breaking surf. In places the horizon vanished behind a haar, a Scottish term that adequately describes a shifting sea mist.
In Scarborough, Whitby and Hartlepool the lamplighters went about their business, pools of yellow gaslight marking their progress along streets. The illuminated windows of houses and the smoking chimneys above hinted at cosy interiors and warm fires within. Businesses closed their offices, shopkeepers put up their shutters and people hurried home for their evening meal through the dark, breath steaming as they wrapped their coats and scarves the tighter round them. Very few visitors stayed in Scarborough at this time of year and the thoughts of hoteliers were concentrated on how best they could fill their empty rooms during the approaching Festive Season. In Whitby it was the opinion of fisher folk that only necessity would drive a man to sea on such a night. In Hartlepool the scenes and sounds were slightly different. Factory workers on night shifts passed those who had just finished work and were heading for home. From West Hartlepool came the sounds of the railway’s nightly clank and puffing as the wagons of incoming and outgoing trains were shunted into the correct order.
There was, therefore, nothing to suggest that this evening was different from any that had gone before. There was, however, a difference. At the Heugh and Lighthouse Batteries the gunners and their infantry close defence riflemen had followed their normal practice and stood to at their action stations as the light faded. An hour after sunset they were stood down and went to supper. Some had duties to perform, others cleaned their kit for the following day and others were allowed into town, provided they returned by Lights Out. The infantrymen began their guard duty, pacing the perimeter of the batteries in pairs, two hours on and four off, until they were relieved at the dawn stand to.
The senior officer present, Lieutenant Colonel Lancelot Robson, a local man, left for his headquarters in West Hartlepool’s Grand Hotel. Robson was the sort of man that Field Marshal Montgomery would later describe as being ‘twice a citizen.’ He had taken an active part in local affairs and at one stage had become Hartlepool’s mayor, while as a Volunteer and then a Territorial he had given forty years’ service to the town’s guns, being commissioned in 1890. The impression we have of him is of a good disciplinarian who trained his men well and earned their respect. Now aged 59, Robson was too old for active service in the field and had retired on the outbreak of war, only to be recalled a fortnight later. His present title was Fortress Commander, with responsibility for the two Hartlepool batteries and the South Gare Battery.
Before proceeding further it is necessary to explain that at this period the Royal Regiment of Artillery was sub-divided into the Royal Horse Artillery, the Royal Field Artillery and the Royal Garrison Artillery. The RGA manned the heaviest guns, including the coastal defence artillery. Officers serving in coastal defence batteries were considered to be something of an elite, having developed fire control systems that were capable of engaging and destroying distant moving targets in all sorts of weather conditions.
At about midnight Robson’s immediate superior passed on to him a signal received from the Admiralty. It was deliberately vague in its content, urging that a sharp lookout be maintained along the East Coast at dawn on 16 December, but only by responsible officers who were to keep the warning a secret. As Robson’s own standing orders required the batteries to stand to with the guns manned an hour before first light, there was nothing more that he could do apart from arranging for transport to collect him in time for this. The instructions given to the senior naval officer present, Commodore George Ballard, were more specific but also lacked an explanation. The four Hartlepool destroyers, Test, Moy, Doon and Waveney, under Lieutenant Commander Fraser, were ordered to carry out their usual dawn sweep, despite the worsening weather, while the remaining warships were to be brought to a state of readiness. One can only guess at the language of the destroyer crews as they up-anchored at 05:45 and steamed out past the breakwater into the heaving darkness.
Meanwhile, at sea Admiral Hipper’s ships had entered the minefield gap and were having an equally rough time of it. Hipper received a signal from the 2nd Scouting Group to the effect that conditions were so bad that the light cruisers and destroyers would be unable to man their guns. When a problem of this magnitude arose in the German service, it was normal for the General or Admiral involved to assess it with his Chief of Staff and adopt the best solution proposed. In this case Hipper held a lengthy discussion with his own Chief of Staff, Commander Erich Raeder, who would one day become the German Navy’s Commander-in-Chief and achieve the rank of Grand Admiral. In the circumstances it was agreed that there was no point in the lighter vessels remaining and they were ordered to make for the point originally chosen by Ingenohl as the High Seas Fleet’s rendezvous, a decision reached in ignorance of the fact that the fleet was actually on its way home. The exception to this was the light cruiser Kolberg, which was to lay a minefield off Filey, to the south of Scarborough. Hipper, confident that his battle cruisers provided steady enough platforms for accurate gunnery, declined to abort the operation and in the event the decision to detach his smaller warships proved to be a blessing in disguise.
Aboard Seydlitz with Hipper, was an officer who had taken part in U-27’s earlier reconnaissance of the coastline and was familiar with the various landmarks. Shortly after the da
rk smudge of the English coast broke the horizon it was possible to pinpoint the force’s position precisely. Hipper now divided his group, despatching Kolberg south to lay her mines, together with Von der Tann and Derfflinger, which would bombard Scarborough and Whitby while Seydlitz, Moltke and Blücher swung away to the north with the Hartlepools as their objective.
As the grey dawn strengthened the southern bombardment force, commanded by Rear Admiral Tapken, extinguished its navigation lights and, having obtained an accurate fix as it passed Robin Hood’s Bay, cruised south so close to the coast that those on deck were able to watch the progress of an early train from Whitby to Scarborough until the line of illuminated carriages swung away inland to the terminal. At 08:00, just as the master plan demanded, the battle cruisers passed the headland separating the town’s North and South Bays and opened fire on their undefended target. The German account, as given by the official historian, owes much to an overheated imagination.
The ships could recognise barbed wire in front of the redoubts of the fortress and also the barracks up the cliff, although the expected fire from the shore was absent. The first salvo from Derfflinger’s secondary and tertiary guns struck the cliff. The second flew like birds of prey over the cliffs and landed in the middle of the military installations. Simultaneously, shells from Von der Tann could be seen exploding beyond Mount Oliver and high black smoke columns were visible. According to the map there were waterworks there but these could not be seen and indirect fire had to be employed.
At 08:10 the town enjoyed a three-minute respite as the two battle cruisers went about, with Von der Tann leading.
The main target for this ship’s secondary guns was the gasworks lying 550 metres beyond Mount Oliver. Indirect fire was undertaken and the fall of shot could partially be seen behind the hill. The target of the lighter guns, the railway station, could not be made out because of the haze over the town. Fire was directed at secondary targets for 18 minutes. The observation officer in the foremast could make out a number of direct hits. Beside the Grand Hotel was the coast guard station and this, the signal station on the headland and other installations on the cliffs were taken under effective fire by the Derfflinger. One salvo exploded beyond the mole where a large number of fishing vessels lay in the harbour.
The highest British estimate of explosive shells fired into the town was in the region of 500 rounds. The Germans put their ammunition expenditure at 773 rounds. Most of the firing was completely indiscriminate and totally lacking in any form of sensible direction. In total, 17 civilians were killed, including eight women and four children, and over 80 were injured. The ruined castle had taken a pounding and the lighthouse was so severely damaged that it had to be demolished, but the major part of the damage had been inflicted on churches, hotels, shops and private houses. By the standards of World War Two air attacks, it was comparatively minor, consisting of smashed windows, collapsed walls and shattered roofs, most of which was easily repairable. At first, there was a sense of bewilderment, then came the sudden realisation of terrible danger, leading to an exodus from the town by train, motor vehicle, horse and cart and even on foot. The event was totally unexpected and no contingency plans had been prepared to meet it. Fortunately, the panic did not last long, although in its aftermath the post office was besieged as people tried to send telegrams to distant relatives confirming that they were safe. At 08:30 the battle cruisers ceased firing and headed north, working up to a speed of 23 knots. Kolberg had played no part in the bombardment and had been forced by heavy seas to lay her mines short of Filey; she was, in fact rolling 12 degrees to port and starboard, as well as shipping far more water than was good for her.
Derfflinger and Von der Tann arrived off Whitby shortly after 09:00, firing a total of 188 shells at various targets. These included the coast guard station, where the collapse of the signal mast flying a ‘battle flag’ was greeted with cheers aboard the German ships, the ruined abbey above the town, which lost a little more of its masonry, and the west mole. Accurate observation was impossible because of the narrow, steep-sided valley that enclosed the harbour. Some shells exploded against the cliffs, others far beyond the railway station, their intended target, and a few even landed near the village of Newholm, four miles inland. There was some damage to property, but only three people were killed and two were injured. A great deal of effort had been expended for very little return and at 09:13 the battle cruisers moved off to the north-east.
As the northern bombardment group approached the coast the gale reached its height, ripping funnel smoke to tatters. At about 08:00, with Hartlepool’s lighthouse and harbour entrance in sight, the German battle cruisers ran into Fraser’s four destroyers approaching from the north. Even if the weather had been favourable, it would have been madness for the smaller ships to engage in a gunnery duel as they were quickly surrounded by fountains of water sent up by a blizzard of exploding shells and raked with splinters that caused a number of casualties and some damage. However, the constant rolling and pounding of the sea made any sort of accurate gunnery impossible even for the battle cruisers, despite the fact that Moltke was employing her main as well as secondary armament. Making smoke, the destroyers turned away and after seven minutes disappeared behind their own screen. It would have been normal for them to have retaliated with the only effective weapons at their disposal, their torpedoes, and while there is no mention of this in the British record of the engagement it seems that they did as the Germans were convinced that one destroyer at least had launched torpedoes. Their report states:
Map 4. The Bombardment of the Hartlepools on 16 December 1914.
At this moment, to avoid the torpedoes, the German battle cruisers turned north and then north-north-east to veer away from the destroyers, and the Gunnery Officer in the aft conning tower of Seydlitz claimed to see a torpedo 20 metres abeam of D Turret, which jumped from the water and then passed aft into the wake. It passed Moltke to port. At the same time another torpedo passed close under the bow and a third passed under the stern of Blücher.
The principal effect of the action had been to disrupt the German timetable. This dissuaded Hipper from attempting any pursuit and he was becoming uneasy about the opposition he might encounter on the way home. At 08:21 he ordered his ships into their bombardment stations, approximately one-and-a-half miles from the shore.
Meanwhile, the Hartlepool batteries had stood-to at 06:30. The rangefinders and guns were checked over to verify that they were in full working order and after stand-down most of the men went down into the battery shelters. In command were two cousins of German descent, Captain Otto Trechmann at the Heugh Battery and Lieutenant Richard Trechmann at the Lighthouse Battery. Colonel Robson arrived shortly after and told them both of the warning he had received during the night. There was general agreement that while the men should not be alarmed unnecessarily, a sharper lookout than usual should be maintained. Robson then mounted the steps to his command post, from which he continued to scan the horizon, much of which was obscured by patchy fog. Somehow, soldiers have an in-built instinct for trouble, heightened this morning by Robson’s unusually early arrival and the fact that he had vanished into the command post. Something, the gunners guessed correctly, was going on. They did not have to wait long to find out what it was.
The rumble of the German guns engaging Fraser’s destroyers to the south-east was clearly audible. The gun crews came tumbling up out of their shelters and took post beside their weapons. In the command post the telephone shrilled urgently. Robson snatched up the receiver. The caller was the Port War Signal Station at South Gare, which reported three large warships closing in on the Hartlepools at speed. Robson asked for clarification on their nationality and class. The PWSS not only confirmed that the ships had acknowledged their signal but also that they were Invincible Class battle cruisers and were flying the White Ensign. When asked what they were firing at the PWSS unhelpfully suggested ‘the enemy.’ Aware that Fraser’s destroyers were in the area, Robson
requested confirmation that they were not the target. The response of the caller was that he couldn’t see what the new arrivals were firing at. The immediate result of this was that the Germans passed right through the South Gare Battery’s arc of fire without a shot being fired at them.
There are three points requiring clarification in connection with this exchange. First, the German official history, usually precise as to detail, makes no mention of an exchange of recognition signals with the South Gare PWSS. Second, nor is any mention made of German ships flying the White Ensign. There was no need whatever for the Germans to resort to this ruse, particularly as they were already engaged with the British destroyers. The fact is that both navies flew a white ensign, the difference being that the Royal Navy’s was sub-divided into quarters by a red cross while the Imperial German Navy employed a black cross, the respective national emblems being displayed in the left-upper quarter. The claim of a local fisherman to have seen German ships flying a full set of British flags which they replaced with their own when they opened fire does not bear close examination despite gaining popular credence throughout the town. Third, the view from Colonel Robson’s command post to the southeast was blocked by the lighthouse and the first he saw of the enemy ships was when they appeared from behind this. They were, however, visible to his two battery commanders, who were steadily tracking their approach with their rangefinders and guns.
If mistakes were made by the British, the same was true of the Germans. Their intelligence was seriously out of date, as the primary target for Seydlitz, in the lead, were the Cemetery Battery, to the north of the Heugh Battery, and a nearby cable works. The Cemetery Battery had been closed since 1907, although the surrounding area was used for training troops bound for France and did contain a number of trench systems. Next in line was Moltke, tasked with neutralising the Lighthouse and Heugh Batteries and the coastguard station on Town Moor. Finally, Blücher was to engage factories north of the harbour, the docks and the gas works.
North Sea Battleground: The War at Sea 1914-1918 Page 5