The Great War

by Peter Hart

  Captain Alfred Carpenter, HMS Vindictive

  As they withdrew it was time for the British to count the cost: they had lost a destroyer and two motor launches and suffered 170 dead, 400 wounded and 45 missing. But had Captain Carpenter been right? Had they really managed to block the Zeebrugge entrance to the Bruges Canal? Certainly, the simultaneous raid on Ostend had been an abject failure, but at least at first there seemed good reason to celebrate success at Zeebrugge and eight VCs were awarded. In the event, the Germans were merely inconvenienced in their navigation by the block ships before a new channel was dredged just three weeks later. All that the British had achieved was a short-lived propaganda coup which had no effect on the submarine war in contrast to the less glamorous hard graft of convoys escort details where the submarine war was being fought and won.

  Coincidentally, the High Seas Fleet had made a sortie on 24 April 1918 into the North Sea to try and intercept one of the regular Scandinavian convoys. These large convoys were often escorted by heavy ships and posed a tempting – and isolated – target. This time the Germans concealed their intentions from the British by maintaining strict wireless silence and a great success looked likely. Yet, for all the planning, Scheer had omitted to check with the German embassy in Norway as to the sailing dates of the convoys. In fact, none was scheduled for 24 April. The problems mounted when the battlecruiser Moltke suffered a catastrophic engine breakdown which ultimately required her to be taken in tow. The wireless signals exchanged during this incident were intercepted by Room 40 with the result that Beatty and the Grand Fleet sailed from Rosyth, steaming across the North Sea on an intercepting course. In the end, they were too late and Scheer escaped back to harbour. Both sides had failed, but the British still held the ring around Germany. It would be the last outing for the High Seas Fleet.

  In August Scheer was appointed Chief of the German Admiralty Staff, with Hipper succeeding him as Commander in Chief of the High Seas Fleet. The British considered Hipper more aggressive than Scheer and nurtured hopes that ‘Der Tag’ might finally dawn. They were also well aware of evidence of unrest in the German fleet. Crews, cooped up in harbour for too long, had been increasingly influenced by socialist propaganda. British optimists hoped that the Germans might despatch the fleet off to sea – to allow the simmering crews to kill or be killed. In the event Hipper did plan one last great operation in the North Sea, but it was stillborn when the German crews mutinied on being ordered to leave Wilhelmshaven on 29 October. Seaman Richard Stumpf watched events from the pre-dreadnought Lothringen.

  We all knew within our hearts – today is the last time we shall ever see many of our ships. My mind contemplated what would happen if we engaged and destroyed the enemy fleet. I toyed with the most grotesque possibilities. In the final analysis this might still result in our victory. Soon, however, an impregnable veil of fog descended upon the sea. The weather made any thought of sailing out impossible. In the sea of fog and fine rain one could no longer make out the stem of the vessel from amidship. Soon thereafter we heard that the stokers on three battlecruisers had deliberately allowed the fires to die down and had even extinguished them. At this time about a hundred men from Von der Tann were running loose about town; Seydlitz and Derfflinger were missing men. Thus the fleet could not have sailed even if there had been no fog. It is sad, tragic that it could go so far as this. But somehow even with the best of intentions I cannot suppress a certain sense of Schadenfreude. What has happened to the almighty power of the proud captains and staff engineers? Now at last, after many years, the suppressed stokers and sailors realise that nothing, no, nothing, can be accomplished without them. On the Thüringen, the former model ship of the fleet, the mutiny was at its worst. The crew simply locked up the petty officers and refused to weigh anchor. The men told the Captain that they would only fight against the English if their fleet appeared in German waters. They no longer wanted to risk their lives uselessly.19

  Seaman Richard Stumpf, SMS Lothringen

  The High Seas Fleet was finished as a combative force. Hipper called off the operation and dispersed his fleet to try and dispel the mutiny. A subsequent investigation carried out by Hipper’s Chief of Staff, Rear Admiral Adolf von Trotha, ranged wide and in its findings echoed earlier pre-war fears as to Germany’s ability to withstand a prolonged conflict against the Triple Entente.

  There appears to be ample proof that our armed forces were unable to withstand such a long war, as soon as the moral boost of success was missing and particularly when want and deprivation were presenting the Home Front with such a prodigious struggle. The unceasing depletion in the front line ranks, of youthful enthusiasm and ability in officers and men; their replacement by older age groups already burdened by home worries, or by the very young and inexperienced age-groups, already influenced by the eroding effects of the struggle on the Home Front – this endless and inevitable trend created an unsound foundation and provided the essential ingredients for discontent. In spite of its much lighter losses, this process wormed its way into the Navy, too.20

  Rear Admiral Adolf von Trotha, Headquarters, High Seas Fleet

  The German Navy had been defeated. Worse still, it had never really been put to the test in full-scale battle. No one would ever know what might have been had they sought out battle in 1914 when the Royal Navy was at its most stretched. The High Seas Fleet was a ‘risk fleet’ that in the end the Kaiser lacked the nerve. The Royal Navy was left frustrated not to have secured the destruction of the High Seas Fleet in battle; that indeed would rankle as long as the memoirs were written. Yet it had carried out its main duties in the Great War successfully. The safe passage of the British Army to the Western Front had been secured and guaranteed; the sea ways across the globe had been defended, even against the U-boat threat; and throughout the war Germany had been partially starved of raw materials by the blockade. These were the valuable rewards of the exercise of pure naval power. In the end the High Seas Fleet created by Tirpitz at such expense, the fleet that had guaranteed British enmity towards Germany, had not achieved much more than the harbour-locked Prussian fleet during the Franco-Prussian War back in 1870. It had all been for nothing.

  15

  THE WESTERN FRONT, 1917

  ‘If our resources are concentrated in France to the fullest possible extent, the British Armies are capable and can be relied on to effect great results this summer – results which will make final victory more assured and which may even bring it within reach this year. To fail in concentrating our resources in the Western theatres, or to divert them from it, would be most dangerous. It might lead to the collapse of France. It would certainly encourage Germany.’1

  Field Marshal Sir Douglas Haig, General Headquarters, BEF

  THE BRITISH AND FRENCH APPROACHED 1917 with a considerable degree of confidence. Lacking the benefit of hindsight, the Allied leaders had no idea that revolution would first cripple and then remove their Russian ally from the war. All they knew was that the Somme and Verdun campaigns had been horrendous experiences for the German Army, while the Russian Brusilov Offensive had put it under additional pressure on the Eastern Front. There was a hope – a conviction, even – that the German Army must be approaching exhaustion. Ever since the war had begun the German Army had been outnumbered and the male population of military age was a finite resource. Although their superior military preparation and competence had brought the Germans success, there was a temptation among the Allies to believe that surely the pressure would tell in the end. Germany’s accumulating military problems were matched by straitened economic conditions caused by a combination of the Royal Navy blockade and the exorbitant cost of war. Foodstuff and clothes both had to be rationed severely and for the German High Command the overall outlook was bleak: they had no option but to stand on the defensive. But this did not mean that they were passive; indeed, they had conducted a root and branch re-assessment of their defensive tactics in view of the increasing evidence that both the British on the Somme an
d the French at Verdun had begun to master the existing tactical configuration.

  The course of the Somme battle had also supplied important lessons with regard to the construction and plan of our lines. The very deep underground forts in the front line trenches had to be replaced by shallower constructions. Concrete pillboxes (which, however, unfortunately took a long time to build) had acquired an increasing value. The conspicuous lines of trenches, which appeared as sharp lines on every aerial photograph, supplied far too good a target for the enemy artillery. The whole system of defence had to be made broader, looser and better adapted to the ground.2

  General Erich Ludendorff, General Headquarters

  Instead of a linear system the Germans began to look at the possibility of deeper defensive zones with different functions. The forward zone, which was bound to be lashed by the shells of the Allied field artillery, would in future be lightly held, but with the reduced garrisons protected in reinforced concrete pillboxes from which they would rely on the crossfire of their machine guns and great swathes of barbed wire to cover the gaps between them. Forward troops were no longer expected necessarily to fight to the last man, but were granted the freedom to fall back and carry on fighting from a less hopeless situation. The counter-attack divisions were to be kept further back, well out of reach of the field artillery, ready to attack just as the Allied assaulting troops were tiring and no longer supported by their own guns. Several officers were involved in the gestation of these techniques, but the key proponent was Colonel Fritz von Lossberg, who was despatched as a senior staff officer to many of the areas most threatened by imminent French or British offensives. The reorganisation of the German defences on these principles represented an enormous investment of time, manpower and materials.

  The Allied plans for 1917 called for more sustained attacks on the German lines. At another co-ordinating conference held at Chantilly in November 1916, Joffre, in his usual dominant role, was determined to maintain the pressure on the Germans over the winter before launching further great French and British Spring Offensives on either side of the Somme battlefields. The BEF was to launch a major offensive between Vimy Ridge and the Ancre River, while the French would attack first between the Somme and the Oise Rivers, and then switch to another great attack in the Aisne and Chemin des Dames area. There were also plans for a British Summer Offensive in Flanders in order to sustain the pressure on the Germans.

  Yet Germany was not the only nation that was suffering in 1916. The French Army had suffered heavy casualties during the Battle of the Frontiers; it had fought a series of painful offensive battles in 1915; then it had endured not only the long agony of Verdun, but had also played a considerable part on the Somme. Joffre seemed in control but, within a month, he had fallen from power. His reputation, once so bright after the Battle of the Marne, had been diminished by his inability to achieve victory in his costly offensives. His political masters were not interested in excuses and took little account of the strength of the Germans or the terrible problems of trench warfare. All they saw was failure and, informed by hindsight, pointed to his denuding of the defences of Verdun. Throughout 1916 a malicious whispering campaign had done much to undermine Joffre’s position. Then, on 13 December 1916, he was effectively dismissed and appointed as military adviser to the government, a meaningless sop to deflect criticism. His replacement was General Robert Nivelle, who had built a considerable reputation during the later stages of Verdun and who was confident that he could deliver victory on a larger stage.

  The British, too, were under strain. The Asquith Coalition, never the most robust of governments, had fallen in December 1916. The new Prime Minster was the Liberal, David Lloyd George, who managed to form another coalition based, to a large extent, on support from the Conservative Party. Lloyd George gave a far greater drive and energy than his predecessor to prosecuting the war. His eloquence was allied to a formidable intellect and a proven aptitude for hard work. In order to win Conservative support he had promised not to interfere in the strategic direction of the war, but nevertheless remained a firm devotee of Easterner operations that left him well adrift of his professional advisers. His schemes were entirely devoid of military logic and, when he promulgated his vague ideas for an offensive in Italy at the Allied Conference in Rome in January 1917, they were soon crushed by a combination of the British and French High Commands. The Italians, especially, took a dim view of being thrust forward into such a prominent role. Yet, at the same time, Lloyd George was able to hold back Haig, who would have liked more consideration of his long-standing plans for a major offensive in the Ypres area. Given Lloyd George’s aversion to the prospect of more British casualties in the mire of the Western Front this plan was also discarded.

  So it was that the last plan standing was that put forward by Nivelle. His success in the later offensives at Verdun in 1916 had convinced him that his methods were infallible, that he had the key to success. As such he planned a stupendous offensive in April 1917 against the long-contested Chemin des Dames Ridge lying behind the River Aisne, while the British pinned the German reserves with a separate offensive at Arras. Nivelle had a considerable ability to sell his plans.

  Our goal is nothing less than the destruction of the major part of the enemy’s forces on the Western Front. We will achieve this only as the result of a decisive battle which engages all his available forces, followed up by an intensive exploitation. In the first and second phases, this means that we will have to break through his front, then beyond that breach engage any of his forces we have not yet fixed in other regions, and finally turn the bulk of our attacking force against his main lines of communication, forcing him into speedily abandoning his current front lines or accepting further combat under the most adverse of conditions. We will achieve these results by using a portion of our forces to fix the enemy and breach his front, then by committing our reserves beyond the point selected by me for the breakthrough.3

  General Robert Nivelle, General Headquarters

  The Nivelle methodology lacked a certain subtlety as it envisioned a huge accumulation of artillery to create an utterly crushing bombardment under the cover of which two French armies would smash their way through the German lines before a third army burst through the breach. This was indeed an ambitious plan and there was a cautious response from Haig, who had concerns over the requirement on the BEF to take over the section of line stretching south from the Somme to the Oise River. Yet he was more than willing to allow the French to resume the main burden of the Allied effort. When it came to dealing with the politicians, Nivelle was far more persuasive than most of the more reserved generals that they had hitherto encountered. His vision of swift, certain success entranced in particular Lloyd George, who saw this as a way to avoid a prolonged bloodbath such as the Somme. And so it was that Nivelle’s plan was accepted as the centrepiece of Allied efforts in 1917.

  A month later Lloyd George, always an accomplished conspirator, ambushed his own generals at the joint Anglo-French Conference held at Calais on 26 February 1917. By careful prior liaison with French generals and politicians he manoeuvred to place Haig directly under the command of Nivelle. The splenetic row that followed was only calmed by a compromise proposed by the War Cabinet Secretary, Maurice Hankey. This placed Haig under Nivelle only for the duration of the offensive and allowed him the right of appeal to the British government should he consider the BEF to be in danger. Haig and the British GHQ were, none the less, furious.

  If the big French attack is indecisive in its result, then inevitably, as the war goes on, our army will become the biggest on the Western Front (unless Lloyd George sends everybody off on side-shows), and there is bound to be interminable friction. If the French attack fails altogether, we shall have the whole weight of the German Army on the top of us, and the position will be even more difficult. If Joffre were still in command of the French and they were putting the British Army under him there might be some justification for it, for he has all the experien
ce of the war behind him, but Nivelle is new to the game, with far less experience of actual fighting than Douglas Haig, and, according to what we are hearing from French officers, he does not seem to have the confidence even of his own generals.4

  Brigadier General John Charteris, General Headquarters, BEF

  Increasingly, the British political and military establishments were finding themselves at loggerheads. This was a dangerous state of affairs.

  British Arras Offensive, April 1917

  The Battle of Arras, although a diversionary operation, was a huge undertaking in itself. The plan was that the First Army, commanded by General Sir Henry Horne, would capture Vimy Ridge rising up three miles northeast of the city of Arras, while the Third Army, commanded by General Sir Edmund Allenby, would drive forward towards the hill of Monchy-le-Preux with the intent of breaking through the main German defensive lines across the River Scarpe and allowing a thrust southwards towards Croisilles and Bullecourt. Many lessons had been learnt from the Somme and artillery was at the heart of the plans. And the Royal Artillery had come a long way since 1915. The thousands upon thousands of new recruits had learnt their trades well: the gun detachments, the layers, the NCOs, the officers were all now welded into efficient batteries that were capable of increasingly sophisticated and complex bombardments. The guns themselves were now plentiful and there were vast numbers of medium and heavy artillery pieces joining the masses of ordinary 18-pounder and 4.5-inch howitzer field artillery. Advances in technology and science also combined to give a greater understanding of the mechanics of a shell in flight and the measurable adjustments caused by different meteorological conditions. Accuracy was improving and the advent of the 106 fuse meant that shells would burst instantaneously on the slightest contact, which made clearing barbed wire a great deal simpler. Smoke shells were also now routinely incorporated into the barrages to try and mask the attacking infantry from the German defenders. Gas shells were a key part of the barrages: they were less visually dramatic than the clouds of gas released from cylinders, but they were far easier to deploy and much more predictable in their effects. Progress in the linked tasks of photographic reconnaissance and artillery observation allowed targets to be identified and then destroyed by indirect fire. New techniques of flash spotting and sound ranging also assisted in locating the exact positions of the German batteries. The idea of suppressing the ability of the German infantry and artillery to return fire at vital moments was now central to operations.