For some minutes the gunners in the two batteries watched as the ships steamed slowly into position off the town. Then, orange flashes along the side of Seydlitz signaled that the first broadside had been fired by the battle cruiser’s medium and small guns. It landed between the two batteries. Screams accompanied the explosions as several of the Durhams were struck down. All the command post’s overhead telephone lines were ripped apart severing Robson’s contact with his battery commanders. Almost immediately, Moltke and Blücher opened fire and the batteries replied.
Few if any of the gunners had been under fire before. Fear obviously existed but it was suppressed by the desperate urge not to let others down and anaesthetised by performing the long familiar drills. All guns, while designed to withstand the enormous pressure of internal propellant explosion, sustain heavy shocks that can affect their fire control equipment, causing time consuming misfires. At various times during the action all three of Hartlepool’s guns sustained misfires, but the cause of these was quickly traced and rectified. It was noticed early in the engagement that the enemy was using delayed action high explosive shells. These were ideal for use against ship targets, having been designed to penetrate and explode inside the vessel, but were useless against the batteries concrete works, off which they ricocheted into the town beyond where their explosion caused fires, extensive damage and serious civilian casualties. Within the batteries, the gunners were forced to work in a fog of concrete, brick and plaster dust as well as smoke that sometimes obscured the targets.
On this occasion, however, the enemy was not having it all his own way. Blücher was the Lighthouse Battery’s target and the official German history describes the damage sustained:
The British coastal guns hit Blücher four times. The first was a 6-inch shell which exploded directly beneath the command bridge and put the third and fourth starboard 3.4-inch guns out of action. Of their crews, nine were killed and two seriously wounded. Flying splinters ripped apart the ready-use ammunition. Loose powder, ruined cartridge cases and whole cartridges were blown through the air, fortunately without exploding. The second hit struck the roof of an 8.2-inch gun turret. The turret gun sight and range finder were destroyed by a splinter, but the turret itself remained operational. The third shell struck the side armour below the same turret, without effect. The fourth struck the upper edge of the foremast observation platform, ripping away aerials as well as damaging signal and searchlight equipment.
Some observers have suggested that immediately after the first hit, Blücher appeared to veer off course towards a known shoal before recovering. As the command bridge was directly above the explosion, we shall never know, as the ship’s log was lost, along with Blücher herself, some months later.
In Captain Otto Trechmann’s Heugh Battery the policy was to concentrate the fire of both guns on a single ship, in this case Seydlitz. The official German account has it that fire from the Cemetery Battery (sic) was falling 100 to 200 metres short but admits that at about 08:37, when the Germans effected a change of course, the Heugh Battery scored three hits in rapid succession.
The first struck the forecastle and wrecked several ventilation shafts and lockers. A great deal of water poured in through the hole, although this was quickly closed with wood. The second shell passed through the outer mantle of the fore funnel, two metres above the deck, and exploded in the inner sleeve, making a hole four to five metres in size. The third shell hit the ventilation shaft of the after superstructure and damaged searchlight cables and equipment. Several life jackets caught fire and splinters penetrated the low-pressure turbine room, but only one man was slightly wounded.
As Seydlitz drew away the Heugh Battery shifted its fire to the Moltke, obtaining a hit that caused a heavy explosion forward, wrecking a number of cabins. Furious, the ship’s commander, Captain von Levetzow, brought his main armament into action on the grounds that it would be easier to spot the big guns’ fall of shot. His subsequent claim to have silenced the Heugh Battery has not the slightest basis in fact.
Another element now entered the battle. The lookouts in the foretops of Seydlitz and Moltke could see the masts and funnels of the old light cruisers Patrol and Forward moving towards the harbour entrance. This unwelcome development was not visible to those in the ships’ lower conning towers and gun positions. The harbour entrance was therefore brought under continuous fire. Patrol, commanded by Captain Alan Bruce, was in the lead. She was assisted by tugs as she negotiated the dog-leg to reach the exit from the Victoria Dock, but these cast off as she reached the Old Pier and began to pick up speed. She was cheered by those nearby who knew that she was hopelessly outgunned and was going to her death with the sole intention of inflicting as much damaged as possible on her powerful opponents.
Fortunately, it did not come to that. An 11-inch shell from the Moltke exploded aboard, killing several men and wounding others. Blücher had also resorted to using her main armament, one round of which blasted a hole low down in the hull through which water began to flood. Bruce had just ordered ‘Full Ahead,’ but now he was left with no alternative but to run the ship aground beside the main channel. As the tidal state was at its lowest, this presented no difficulty, although it left insufficient room for Forward to pass.
However, Lieutenant C.L.Y. Dering, commanding the submarine C-9, had no intention of being left stranded inside the harbour. Despite there being only nine feet of water beside Patrol, he managed to squeeze his little craft past although she scraped along the bottom with her propeller churning up clouds of silt. Once in open water, there was very little chance of her torpedoes finding a target, and in any event she would have to remain surfaced to fire them, exposed to destruction by innumerable guns. Even submerged, the concussive effect of a salvo from the enemy’s main armament would be sufficient to inflict critical damage on the little craft. Nevertheless, this was the lesser of the two evils and Dering headed south to put C-9 on the bottom off Seaton Carew. Once things had quietened down, he brought her to the surface to find not a German warship in sight. This led to the only glimmer of humour to emerge from a very grim morning indeed. During the next few days the submarine’s crew informed people that as soon as C-9 put in an appearance, the enemy had realised that the game was up and promptly headed for home!
There is some doubt as to whether Hipper even saw C-9’s conning tower emerging from the harbour entrance. Having completed his mission, he was more concerned with rejoining the southern element of his group and making his way home. His ships turned away from the coast to fade into the mist. As soon as the tide had risen sufficiently, Forward was sent out to look for them and report their position, but there was no trace of them.
The raiders left behind a chaos of wrecked and burning buildings and the horror of bodies sprawled in the streets. Many people tried to escape by train or other means, just as they did in Scarborough. In addition to the naval casualties sustained aboard Doon and Patrol, two RGA gunners were killed, as was one soldier of the Royal Engineers and six infantrymen of the Durham Light Infantry, a further eleven of whom were wounded. It was, however, the civilian casualties that shocked most. One hundred and twelve people were either killed during the bombardment itself or died from their injuries.
Of these, 32 were women and 37 were children. Material damage was widespread and confirmed that, as at Scarborough, much of the German gunnery had been indiscriminate. Some 300 houses and small shops had sustained damage, as had hospitals, churches and schools. The January 1915 edition of The Engineer recorded damage that could be considered of military significance.
Three gasometers went up in flames. A water tower and the engine house of the gasworks were partially destroyed. A timber yard and granary at the port along with valuable raw materials were set ablaze. The dockyard of Richardson, Westgard, Roper and Company suffered particularly, as did the installations of the Irving Shipping Company at Middleton. Administration buildings, revolving cranes and assembly shops were likewise badly damaged and partly
destroyed by fire. Two ships under construction in the latter yard were hit several times by shells and on one the sternpost was blown off. The new steamer Sagoma River, tied up near a shed, and the steamers Fair Field and City of Newcastle were badly damaged. The steamer Denebola, which was in the harbour basin, was also hit. Other shells struck railway buildings and tore up the track.
For Hipper, the most dangerous phase of the operation had just begun. At about 11:00 his combined force entered the western end of the minefield gap. It was obvious that he would take this route home and while Beatty was heading to close the gap from its northern end Warrender was doing likewise to the south. At 11:25 Beatty’s cruisers, operating to the north of his battle cruisers, encountered the light cruisers Hipper had detached some hours earlier, which were now well on their way home. Beatty, however, was after Hipper and ordered two of the four cruisers to break contact and resume the search for the German battle cruisers. Unfortunately, his signal was corrupted in passing and the entire cruiser squadron broke off the engagement. For their part, the German cruisers turned away and headed south.
By noon, Hipper was halfway through the minefield, little suspecting that he was approaching a trap. At 12:15 the German cruisers became visible to Warrender through the mist and he set off to the north-east to intercept them in the belief that Hipper was nearby. Having been advised of this development, Hipper turned south-east, hoping to draw Warrender away from the cruisers. Beatty, thinking that Hipper had slipped past him, turned east at 12:30. Having been alerted to the presence of British battleships to the south, he swung away northwards at 12:45. Warrender, meanwhile, had lost the enemy cruisers in the mist and had turned west five minutes earlier.
The pursuit had now entered its most crucial phase. Beatty had read Hipper’s mind correctly and turned north at 13:15. He was on a converging course with Hipper and would have come within sight of his ships shortly after. Warrender had also turned north at 13:24. Hipper would almost certainly have found himself in serious trouble had not Beatty received a signal from the Admiralty, based on radio intercepts. It told him that the enemy was heading south-east, and that left him with no choice but to turn east in an attempt to get between Hipper and his base. He found nothing but continued to search until 15:17, when the hunt was called off. Investigation of the signal revealed that it was not based on real time (i.e. as events were happening) but on the situation that had existed between 12:15 and 12:45.
Poor visibility, bad signals procedure and sheer good luck had all helped Hipper to make good his escape, although he was not quite out of danger yet. As his battle cruiser approached the German coast early on 17 December, they encountered the submarine E-11, part of a four-strong patrol line established by Commodore R.J.B. Keyes, of whom more in due course, running north from the mouth of the Weser. Commanded by Lieutenant Commander M.E. Naismith, one of the war’s submarine aces, E-11 fired a torpedo which passed under its target because of a design fault. She was then forced to dive to avoid being rammed. In doing so she lost her trim and in returning to the attack surfaced involuntarily. Startled, Hipper’s ships scattered but finally straggled into port.
It was not the sort of dignified entrance any admiral would have preferred, but Hipper was now a national hero. He had, after all, carried out his mission in difficult conditions and brought his ships home with minimal casualties and damage. The German and Austrian press made much of his success and the apparent failings of the Royal Navy. Ingenohl also received credit as the fleet commander but some senior officers, notably Tirpitz, were highly critical of him, claiming that by his hurried return to port he had forfeited a significant victory. Hipper was less pointed in his reaction although he had clearly not enjoyed being left to fend for himself. There were also bitter comments that Ingenohl had allowed the High Seas Fleet to be chased back into its harbours by handful of British destroyers, but these were below the belt and took no account of the fact that Ingenohl was bound by the Kaiser’s strict order not to become involved in a fleet action.
Meanwhile, back in Hartlepool, Robson’s political instincts had led him to assemble the personnel of both batteries for a group photograph on the afternoon of the bombardment. The result suggests that it was a cold day as most of the officers have pulled on their short ‘warm’ overcoats. The men, on the other hand, are wearing their normal service dress and are as smartly turned out as if they were about to mount a ceremonial guard. Their expressions are inscrutable and one suspects that they would prefer to be giving what help they could in the town, where many of their families lived. Only when the shutter had clicked were they formed into working parties and detailed to assist in the clearing up. The following morning they were paraded and a congratulatory letter from Lord Kitchener was read to them. A number of decorations were awarded as a result of the action, the first of its kind since the Dutch Wars of the Seventeenth Century, if one discounts a comic opera landing by French troops near Fishguard in 1797. Robson became a Companion of the Distinguished Service Order, for although he had remained isolated in his command post during the fighting, it was thanks to his efforts that the two batteries were as well disciplined and efficient as they were. Sergeant T. Douthwaite received a Distinguished Conduct Medal for removing and making safe a misfired cartridge from the gun in the Lighthouse Battery, contrary to the standard safety drill, so that the battery could remain in action. Sergeant F.W. Mallin and Acting Bombardier J.J. Hope, the gun captains of the Heugh Battery, were awarded the Military Medal. It was expected that as the two battery commanders the Trechmanns’ part in the action would be acknowledged in some way, but it was not. The probable reason was the priggish attitude common at this phase, that junior officers should not expect to be rewarded simply for carrying out their duties. The obvious unfairness of their treatment led to it being brought to the attention of Winston Churchill, but as it was an Army rather than a Navy matter he could not intervene, and there it rested. The Royal Navy received no awards at all, although the Hartlepool and District Traders Defence Association presented an Address to the ships based in the port praising their immense courage in attempting to tackle their huge opponents.
The British public, however, was angry that the Royal Navy had allowed the raid to happen and angrier still that the Germans had been allowed to get away with it, although it remained in ignorance of most of the facts, including the part that luck had played in the enemy’s escape. It was furious at the unprovoked slaughter of innocent civilians of all ages, regarding this as an extension of the ‘frighfulness’ displayed by the German Army in its march across Belgium. Their prompt execution of civilans who took pot-shots at the troops was understandable, but not the destruction of entire communities as a reprisal, as had happened at Louvain, where the ancient university and its priceless library were burned to the ground. Nor was there any doubt that there were occasions when the troops were out of hand because their officers made them march hard and allowed them to drink hard as a reward. Looting, rapes and attacks on civilians were far from being isolated incidents, but in many cases the worst of the atrocities attributed to the German Army had no foundation. Even so, Germany’s reputation as a civilised nation was taking a serious battering, largely because those in charge simply did not understand the importance of good public relations and were therefore at an immediate disadvantage in what today is known as psywar. The reverse was true in Great Britain, where it was grudgingly accepted that while the Hartlepools had sustained by far the worst casualties and damage, they were defended and, since they also played an important part in the nation’s war effort, they were a legitimate target. Scarborough, on the other hand, was simply a holiday resort and nothing could justify the indiscriminate killing that had taken place. The outrage received the fullest publicity at home and abroad and an effective poster campaign proved to be a major boost to recruiting with it simple message: Remember Scarborough! The reaction of neutral countries, especially that of the United States, where a high percentage of immigrant Germans had m
ade their home, was sufficiently cool to produce a more sober reflection among the less strident element of the Berlin press.
Back in the United Kingdom the criticism of the Royal Navy had been taken seriously to heart. Beatty’s answer to the problem was characteristically simple and straightforward – move the battle cruisers and their supporting squadron of battleships from Caithness to Rosyth and the time taken to reach the operational area would be halved.
HMS Tiger in action at Jutland.
The 5th Battle Squadron at high speed in heavy seas.
Damage to Q turret on HMS Lion after Jutland.
CHAPTER 7
Once Too Often – The Battle of Dogger Bank
In the view of the German Admiralty the foreign criticism of the raids on Scarborough, Whitby and the Hartlepools was something for the diplomats to deal with while the Imperial Navy got on with the war. During the first weeks of January 1915 Rear Admiral Eckermann, the High Seas Fleet’s Chief of Staff, believed that British light forces were carrying out an increased level of patrolling in the area of Dogger Bank. Encouraged by the successful outcome of the previous month’s operation, he urged Ingenohl to disrupt these using the fast battle cruisers. The fleet commander, however, was less than enthusiastic about the idea as Hipper’s fighting strength had been considerably reduced by the decision to dock Von de Tann for refitting. Nevertheless, Eckermann was importunate in pressing his idea until Ingernohl finally gave way, instructing Hipper by radio to examine the Dogger Bank area at dawn on 24 January, assess the nature of the enemy’s operations and engage the British presence.
North Sea Battleground: The War at Sea 1914-1918 Page 6