by Peter Hart
Captain Moritz von Egidy, SMS Seydlitz, 1st Scouting Group
None of the British dreadnoughts, belying their proud names, dared open fire. Only the Lutzow went down and, even then, she was vanquished as much by the sea as by her opponents. She had been so badly damaged that she had no hope of getting home and was eventually scuttled at about 01.45 on 1 June. At about roughly the same time the severely battered light cruiser the Wiesbaden also finally sank beneath the waves.
A terrible gargling came from inside the ship, and we noticed we had slipped a little further to starboard. We realised that we would die a sailor’s death. Now everything went as quick as a flash. The ship lay further over to starboard, sinking deeper. I ran to the quarterdeck, undid the mooring of a rescue raft and climbed onboard and pushed off the starboard side. Lying on my knees I paddled with my hands desperately to the rear, to escape the suction when the ship sank. Everything was quite quiet. The companions who stood on deck jumped off towards aft and swam to my raft. We saw our wounded companions, who were lying on deck and who had previously in part fallen asleep from exhaustion, slide from the ship into the water. Now our ship Wiesbaden sank before our eyes. Until the last her masts towered from the water and our battle flag, which blew from the spanker gaff, slowly sank into the waves. We looked around ourselves. We floated between dead companions, dead fishes, hammocks and life jackets. Where this trip would take us nobody could say. We had to leave ourselves to our destiny. I asked my God not to let it last too long. All the feelings of confidence had disappeared from me. As long as one has a ship below oneself one hopes; but when one hangs in the water on a raft, the cold slowly rises from the toes and then slowly the limbs go stiff.20
Stoker Hugo Zenne, SMS Wiesbaden, 2nd Scouting Group
One by one his comrades lost their battle with the freezing cold and slipped away. Zenne was picked up by a Norwegian steamer some thirty-eight hours later, the only survivor from the gallant Wiesbaden crew.
So, why did Jellicoe not react to the signs of battle behind him? It would appear that, in the complete absence of wireless reports to the contrary, he considered these to be just clashes between the British and German light forces. In this Jellicoe was certainly guilty of an error of judgement, and he should have been more pro-active in trying to determine what was occurring. But at the same time this is to ignore the draining exhaustion of battle and the enormous stress that he was under – and profits from the simple certainties of hindsight. A further subplot was the interception by Room 40 back in London of several of Scheer’s wireless messages. These were sent in summary form to Jellicoe: ‘German battle fleet ordered home at 9.14 pm. Battlecruisers to the rear. Course south-south-east ¾ east. Speed 16 knots.’ This clearly indicated Scheer was intent on taking the Horns Reef route, but when it was passed to Jellicoe at 23.15 he did not believe it – after all, had he not been told the High Seas Fleet was not at sea? The Admiralty had also, by combining the signals into one outline briefing, inadvertently concealed crucial information from Jellicoe, such as Scheer’s signal ordering an airship reconnaissance cover at Horns Reef. So it was that the Grand Fleet sailed on, preparing for a renewed battle at dawn; a battle that would never be.
Come the dawn Scheer was safely on his way back to Wilhelmshaven, which he reached in the early afternoon of 1 June. For the disappointed men of the Grand Fleet, dawn brought only the miserable realisation that the High Seas Fleet had escaped retribution. There was little they could do but bury their dead.
The ship had slowed down and there was a burial going on of the poor unrecognisable scraps of humanity from the explosion. I had been asked previously to try and identify Young and Cotton, but it was impossible. It was a gloomy scene, the grey sky, the grey sea, the stitched-up hammocks, the padre with his gown blowing in the breeze. The ‘Last Post’ was sounded by the Marine buglers and our shipmates plunged into the sullen waters.21
Surgeon Lieutenant Duncan Lorimer, HMS Malaya, Fifth Battle Squadron
The British ships made their way dolorously back to their home ports.
But who had won the battle? The Germans were back in port first and staked their claim with considerable vigour, exaggerating the numbers of ships they had sunk and concealing some of their own losses. Indeed, they had sunk 3 British battlecruisers, 3 armoured cruisers and 8 destroyers, while the British had accounted for just 1 German battlecruiser, 1 pre-dreadnought, 4 light cruisers and 5 destroyers. In the Grand Fleet the prevailing mood was one of deep disappointment that it had not managed to destroy the High Seas Fleet. But on 2 June 1916 it still had twenty-four dreadnoughts and battlecruisers ready for action, as opposed to just ten available to Scheer. Furthermore the Germans failed in their ambition to destroy a significant portion of the Grand Fleet, whether by submarine trap or in battle. The British losses, although costing the lives of 6,094 sailors, were easily replaced from ships undergoing refitting, while new and more powerful ships were also approaching completion. Jellicoe had not managed to annihilate the High Seas Fleet, but that had always been a secondary consideration to this most practical of men. His priority had been to maintain the maritime supremacy of the Royal Navy across the globe; that he could never risk, not even for the chance of glory. Jellicoe was above all a pragmatist: his success at Jutland was made in that image – the status quo would continue and for Germany that marked a strategic defeat.
12
MESOPOTAMIA, 1914–18
‘It was believed to be a sideshow and “no man’s child”.’1
Lieutenant General George Gorringe, Headquarters, Tigris Corps
THE ORIGINS OF THE MESOPOTAMIAN CAMPAIGN lay at sea with the adoption by the Royal Navy of oil-fired turbines for the new generations of warships that were rolling off the stocks. Much of Britain’s oil supply was sourced from the recently developed oil fields at Ahwaz in the Arabistan province of Persia. The oil pipeline ran alongside the Karun River to the Shatt al-Arab and the refineries on Abadan Island. Turkish-controlled Mesopotamia itself was the alluvial plain formed by the mighty Euphrates and Tigris Rivers as they meandered their way to the Persian Gulf, joining together before passing by the town of Basra which lies at the head of the Shatt al-Arab estuary about seventy miles from the sea. The importance of an uninterrupted oil supply to the British meant that it was essential that Abadan be secured from disruption as the likelihood of Turkey joining the war grew ever greater in the autumn of 1914. Indeed, in August, Turkish troops had already been mobilised and moved forward into the Basra region, occupying an area right down to the entrance of the Shatt al-Arab. The Royal Navy had despatched the sloop Espiegle, accompanied by an armed merchantman the Dalhousie, to lie off Abadan as a tangible representation of Britain’s concern. Furthermore, the Indian government was ordered to raise and despatch a land force in case military operations were required. Yet right from the start there was confusion over the chain of command.
A 1912 agreement had laid out the support required from India in the event of war and this included taking responsibility for any possible campaigns within the area of the Persian Gulf and Mesopotamia. Officially, therefore, the Indian Expeditionary Force (IEF) ‘D’ was to be raised by, and under the control of, the British-run Indian government based at Delhi.2 However, there is no doubt but that the British government in London still retained not just a paternalistic interest but a desire to interfere directly in the conduct of operations. This may not have mattered but, right from the start, the two governments had markedly different strategic visions: London was engaged in a continental war in Europe and had its eye on the Turkish threat to the Suez Canal and Egypt. Hence it looked to mount an essentially defensive campaign in Mesopotamia tailored to securing the oil fields and not much else. In contrast, although initially reluctant to do anything due to commitments elsewhere and the continuing threat on the North-West Frontier, Delhi soon came to envisage a full-scale campaign, intended to bring not just Abadan, not just the town of Basra, but the whole of Mesopotamia right up to Baghdad unde
r British control. The Indian Army had been undergoing a prolonged period of economy due to the perceived reduction of the threat emanating from Russia, and the prevailing expectation was that it would only be deployed internally on the North-West Frontier. Therefore, little attention had been paid to its new external Imperial obligations, which meant it was not well equipped with artillery, transport, medical facilities or any of the other requirements of modern warfare.
The first troops to be despatched to Mesopotamia were the augmented 16th Indian Brigade, made up of regular British and Indian battalions. This force left India on 16 October 1914 and took up a watching brief off the island of Bahrain in the Gulf, pending events. The day after the Turkish declaration of war on 5 November, the 16th Indian Brigade fought its first action, capturing the Fao Fort and Turkish cable station located close to the entrance of the Shatt. On 7 November the troops sailed on up the Shatt beyond Abadan and landed at Sanniyat, where they established camp to await the arrival of Lieutenant General Sir Arthur Barrett and the rest of IEF ‘D’, made up largely of elements of the 6th Indian Division. A weak counter-attack by the Turkish 38th Division was repulsed and afterwards a series of minor actions were fought, culminating in the capture of Basra on 21 November 1914. The campaign could have been over; the campaign should have been over. The primary objectives of securing the oil fields and the pipelines from Persia had been achieved.
Basra proved not to be an ideal base for, although it was a minor port, it lacked many of the basic modern amenities. The water supply came from the river, sanitary arrangements were primitive and it was dominated by the tidal river and a maze of creeks that stretched inland across a flood plain that was actually swamped on a daily basis. Worse still, the entire area flooded between March and October, leaving Basra effectively as an island. Whatever the season, movement by land was always extremely difficult, with few passable roads and no railways. As the Navy explored further up the river, it became apparent that the Turkish forces had fallen back the fifty miles to Qurna, which lay at the old confluence of the Euphrates and the Tigris. Barrett decided that in order to consolidate his position at Basra he must establish a defensive outpost at Qurna. It would prove a remarkable operation. His troops landed on the eastern bank, but then faced the monumental problem of crossing the swollen Tigris, as wide as the Thames in London. In the finest traditions of the Boys’ Own comics, Royal Navy sloops forced their way past the town, from where they could provide a distracting artillery support, while two Indian battalions managed to cross higher up the river on 8 December. The Turks found themselves cut off and on 9 December they surrendered. Thus far the operations had been a triumph and Turkish resistance again was negligible. Now surely the IEF ‘D’ could rest on their well-earned laurels?
Yet Lord Hardinge, the Viceroy in Delhi, and the Indian Army Headquarters based at Simla were becoming increasingly ambitious. With such weak opposition from the Turks, could not more be achieved, perhaps even the capture of Baghdad? It cannot be denied that this would have secured Abadan beyond question, but was it really necessary? Furthermore, little consideration was being given to the means required for such a ‘forward defence’ policy. Did the Indian government really have enough troops spare to face whatever the Turks might throw at them in such grand operations? Also, how was an army supposed to move in an area devoid of communications – except on the great waterways of the Tigris and Euphrates?
Meanwhile the British and Indian troops were accustoming themselves to the pleasures of service in Mesopotamia. Qurna was reputedly the site of the Garden of Eden, but conditions had deteriorated somewhat since those halcyon days. Hot during the day, often cold at night, with naggingly persistent winds which soon stirred up clouds of choking dust, when not actually immersed in water the flood plain was still chopped up by canals and deep waterways dotted around with marshes and brackish lakes. Digging trenches was difficult as below two feet they became flooded and breastwork trenches had to be built up to provide protection. The flies were everywhere and, in conjunction with the poor-quality water supplies and sanitation, soon led to a disturbing incidence of dysentery. All this against a backdrop of the constant attentions of the local Marsh Arabs who were hostile to anyone – Turkish or British – who trespassed for long on their domain. Their natural antipathy was increased by the potent combination of the ‘Holy War’ declared against the British by the Turks, coupled with well-placed bribes for the more venal. As a result, the British camp was disturbed every night by the persistent rattle of pot-shots from a conglomeration of archaic weapons that could have provided a brief history of firearms. They were not particularly effective, but they were irritating. It was also difficult to judge the strength of the opposing Turkish forces and the legitimacy of various rumoured threats against Qurna, Basra and the oil fields in Persia. All too soon the British began to appreciate the merits of the old Arab saying that ‘God had created hell but it wasn’t bad enough so he created Mesopotamia’.
The British themselves strengthened the IEF ‘D’ with the 12th Indian Division commanded by Major General Sir George Gorringe. When the long-anticipated Turkish blow fell it was beaten off – not without difficulty – at the Battle of Shaiba in a series of engagements fought between 11 and 14 April 1915 which prevented a large Turkish and Arab force from descending on to Basra via the Euphrates from the west.
At this time, Barrett had fallen sick and had been replaced as overall commander by Lieutenant General Sir John Nixon. Nixon had been briefed by General Sir Beauchamp Duff, the Indian Army Commander in Chief, who charged him not only with the responsibility of guarding the oil fields and occupying the Basra vilayet (province) which stretched as far almost as the town of Kut al Amara, but also – more dramatically – with planning an advance on Baghdad. Yet this expansionary thrust was unknown to the authorities in London, whose point of view was summarised by Lord Crewe in a telegram sent on 24 April 1915.
Any advance beyond the present theatre of operations will not be sanctioned by Government at this moment, and I presume Nixon clearly understands this. During the summer we must confine ourselves to the defence of oil interests in Arabistan and of the Basra Vilayet. If an advance to Amara with a view to establishing an outpost for the purpose of controlling tribesmen between there and Karun, thus adding to the security of the pipeline, is possible after smashing the enemy in the direction of Karun, I should be prepared to sanction it. Any proposal involving possible demands for reinforcements or undue extension is to be deprecated however. Our present position is strategically a sound one and we cannot afford to take risks by extending it unduly. In Mesopotamia a safe game must be played.3
Secretary of State for India Lord Crewe
Lord Crewe clearly did not appreciate the scope of Nixon’s instructions. From this point in the campaign the Indian government effectively wrested the initiative from London.
On the ground the operations became divided in focus. Gorringe had been despatched on 22 April with his 12th Indian Division to clear the area around the Persian oil wells and along the Karun River of any Turkish or Arab threat in order to allow pumping (which had been interrupted) to resume. This was, after all, the original purpose of the campaign. Gorringe’s operations were successful and the oil began to flow again, but meanwhile the operations of the 6th Indian Division, commanded by Major General Charles Townshend, were rather more dramatic in their nature. Nixon decided to order his new subordinate to advance along the Tigris some ninety miles to Amara, having obtained the grudging consent first of Lord Crewe and then of Austen Chamberlain, his replacement as Secretary of State for India after the formation of a Coalition Government on 25 May.
Townshend was widely considered a tactically brilliant commander – not least by himself. He had studied military history deeply and attempted to put into action the maxims of his hero Napoleon. During his career he had already attracted much attention for his determined and ultimately triumphant defence of the besieged fort of Chitral on the North-West Fron
tier in 1895. Now he was facing a true test of his capabilities, for no advance from Qurna would be easy. The whole area was flooded, with the Turks ensconced on low hill positions that peeked above the marshes. Advance was only possible by boat. So the assaulting 17th Indian Brigade had to take to the waters. This was an incredible undertaking demanding enormous preparations.
An average of sixty-five boats per battalion was necessary. Each bellum was to carry ten men, two to pole, eight to fight, with their equipment, reserve ammunition, water, two picks, two shovels, 30 feet of rope and caulking materials, two spare poles, and four paddles. In addition, boats had to be found for the Signal Company and for the field ambulance, and also for machine gun sections and a battery of mountain guns. These latter were mounted on rafts, made from two bellums decked together, the guns protected by steel plates and the whole roofed over with reeds to make them more inconspicuous. It was decided that the bellums should also be armoured by placing two long strips of boilerplating across the boats, bow and stern, projecting about 3 feet on either side and only just clearing the water: the idea being that, if held up by frontal fire, the men could jump out and, wading behind the projecting wings of armour, push their boat forward. ‘Expert’ opinion was against the scheme.4
Captain Henry Birch Reynardson, 1st Oxfordshire and Buckinghamshire Light Infantry
‘Expert’ opinion was right. The armour made the bellums top-heavy and caused them to snag in the reeds or run aground. To try to reduce the enormous risks, Townshend planned a staged advance, carefully preparing a co-ordinated naval and artillery bombardment on the Turkish outposts before launching his assault on 31 May 1915.
We had never seen a bombardment in Mesopotamia before, and now that about forty guns, from 5-inch to 10-pounders, were hard at it, we were suitably impressed. Norfolk and Gun Hills disappeared in a cloud of smoke and dust, which drifted like a dirty smudge across the clear blue of the sky. The bombardment continued for half an hour, then lifted off Norfolk Hill and concentrated on Tower Hill and Gun Hill, while the mountain battery took on Norfolk Hill and sprinkled it with shrapnel, while the boats began their slow advance. After the bombardment that Norfolk Hill had suffered, it seemed that nothing could have remained alive, but as the boats of the Oxfordshire Light Infantry approached, it was clear that somehow or other a good many of the garrison were still very much all there. A line of grey puffs broke out all along the position, and the boats came under a sharp rifle fire; at the same time the enemy guns opened fire – shooting very erratically – on the sloops in the river. Norfolk Hill was carried with the bayonet soon after seven o’clock, at the cost of one officer killed and five men wounded – surprisingly light losses considering that the company concerned was under rifle fire at a range of 100 yards while they disembarked and waded up to the trenches. These, well-sited and provided with overhead cover in places, were simply full of dead and wounded.5