Jutland_The Unfinished Battle

by Nicholas Jellicoe

  As characters, Jellicoe and Lloyd George could not have been more different. Strategically, they were at loggerheads: the ‘westerner’ versus an ‘easterner’. Jellicoe wanted focus on the Western Front; Lloyd George eastern Europe or the Middle East. Jellicoe wanted to reduce the number of war theatres; Lloyd George was always looking for another opportunity. In Jellicoe’s words, another ‘sideshow’ that would stretch the Navy’s thin resources even further.

  Not without some justification, Lloyd George held a grudge against Jellicoe. He was, in part, responsible for the collapse of the Liberal government’s agenda of social reform. Lloyd George’s character did not lend itself to bowing down gracefully. He would engineer his revenge when the right moment presented itself.

  His faults had been pretty glaring and pretty constant … He bullied; he fibbed; he blustered; he wheedled. He could be outrageously intolerant. He engaged in wholesale misrepresentation and chicanery on a grand scale. He was selfish, vain and boastful. He attributed mean motives to his opponents and splendid intentions to himself. He was devious and cunning … He was a rogue, a trickster, an opportunist, a will of the wisp.83

  Colvin’s biography of Carson, who was, like Jellicoe, targeted by Lloyd George, has a wonderful turn of phrase: Lloyd George ‘succumbs to the temptation, so strong in the hearts of us all, to be the hero of every fight, the Jack who kills every giant’.84

  Sir Eric Geddes, was a man whose personal manner – gruff and pushy, with an insatiable appetite for statistics – could test many a man’s patience. At first, Jellicoe had not only welcomed the appointment of Geddes as Controller, he even wrote to Beatty extolling Geddes, though Beatty was rather more opposed to the idea of a civilian in the Admiralty. Buoyed up by vanity, Geddes demanded that he be given not only military rank (so that he would be taken seriously by the men of arms) but also that he wear the uniform of either a major general or a vice admiral. To many, Geddes’ behaviour was laughable, but he loved his power and he loved using it. The appointment of a civilian with no experience in shipbuilding annoyed many industry men. Sir Joseph Maclay, the Shipping Controller, said that ‘L.G. has made a mistake in not appointing a shipbuilder or someone who understands shipbuilding’. Maclay was as equally pessimistic as Jellicoe was at this juncture of the war. Using May 1917 shipping losses as the basis of his calculations, he felt that Britain would not be able to feed its population or supply overseas military needs beyond the end of the year. It would not be till the second quarter of 1918 that new shipbuilding would be able to catch up and overtake the losses.

  Sir Eric Geddes was an Edinburgh-born businessman whose extensive experience in managing rail systems in America, India and Great Britain had made him a brilliant logistics aid to Douglas Haig. The field marshal thought so highly of him that when he transferred to the Admiralty he still kept him on as a ‘consultant’. Sims talked equally highly of Geddes: ‘A man after Roosevelt’s heart – big, athletic, energetic, with a genius for reaching the kernel of a question and of getting things done’.85 However, one was a businessman; the other, a thoroughly naval man with deep respect for the traditions of the service: oil and water. Privately, Geddes had complained to Haig about Jellicoe calling him ‘feeble to a degree and vacillating’.86

  Lloyd George wanted both Carson and Jellicoe out, but could not move against both men at the same time. He would have not only lost the support of the Navy, he would also have lost the right wing of the Conservative party and put his coalition government in jeopardy. Right from the start, Carson was under pressure from Lloyd George to get rid of Jellicoe.

  He had to get rid of Carson first and Geddes’ appointment was the manoeuvre by which the First Lord’s replacement hungrily took up the reins of power. Already, by 2 May the Northcliffe press had started the whispering campaign, making it look like neutral commentary: ‘renewed rumours of Sir Edward Carson’s impending resignation circulated last night – probably by those political agencies which see in the German submarine a weapon for striking at the government.’87 A month later, on 20 June Geddes was openly complaining about Carson’s lack of effectiveness to his old protector, Haig.88 The prime minister’s solution was to ‘kick him upstairs’. He made Carson a member of the War Cabinet in June 1917 and moved Geddes right into his place as the new First Lord. At the same time, the insinuations of the Northcliffe press changed target. Without Carson as his political ally and defender, the barbs were now clearly aimed at Jellicoe himself. Carson did not stay long in the War Cabinet. He resigned in January 1918, part of the wave of mostly suppressed protest at Jellicoe’s own dismissal at the end of December.

  Discord eventually boiled over into conflict. A minor disagreement was on Jellicoe’s recommendation of honours for Duff whose ‘manner’ Geddes disliked. Jellicoe defended his choice saying that the honour was for Duff’s services, not his demeanour. A more serious disagreement, however, was over Jellicoe’s defence of Admiral Bacon, and Marder wrote that he felt this was the immediate cause of Jellicoe’s dismissal. Admiral Wemyss, Jellicoe’s deputy, wanted to replace Bacon, who was the architect of the Dover barrage through which enemy submarines seemed to have little difficulty passing. Geddes agreed – Jellicoe did not.

  Bacon had asked the Admiralty back in February 1917 to strengthen the original September 1916 barrage, but additional mines were only supplied at the end of 1917, in November. Leading up to the disagreement, Geddes had not acted with any great tact. For example, Bacon had not been appointed to the Channel Barrage Committee by Geddes. One of the committee’s recommendations was that there be additional patrols of the submarine dive areas and that the same area be illuminated at night. Bacon did not agree, claiming that he did not have the resources for the first and that he found the second potentiallyvery dangerous to the patrol vessels themselves.

  Bacon, like Geddes perhaps not best known for diplomacy, wrote a very critical letter to Geddes: ‘The above statement put, as politely as I possibly could, the obvious fact that it was better to leave the defence of the Straits to the Admiral who had local knowledge, experience, and the whole responsibility entailed by the command at Dover, than to allow dabbling by a committee who had no local knowledge, experience or responsibility.’89 Jellicoe defended a fellow admiral: ‘I am not able to accept the sweeping indictment of the work of the V.A. [Vice Admiral] Dover, as stated by the Director of Plans. The V.A’s dispositions are based on experience, not only of submarine action but of destroyer attacks, and he is naturally reluctant to ignore the latter in the attempt to deal with the former’.90 Nevertheless, Jellicoe then supported Roger Keyes on the idea of strengthening the patrolling and the illumination. It was a diplomatic censure of Bacon’s position, while at the same time letting it be known that there was a preferred manner in which to handle these kinds of situations. Geddes was too impatient to get ‘to the point’.

  Keyes, however, was complimentary about what Bacon had achieved: ‘The activities of the Dover Patrol were immense and Admiral Bacon had built up an enormous organization, which carried out its daily duties with great regularity and efficiency’.91 During the time that Bacon had commanded the barrage, 125,100 merchant ships had passed through with only seventy-three sunk.92 Bacon was eventually dismissed a week after Jellicoe himself, but what he had feared did, in fact, come to pass. On 14 February 1918 the Germans exploited the illumination and severely mauled almost a dozen trawlers and drifters.

  The other serious disagreement was over the handling of the aftermath of the two Scandinavian convoy disasters. The first was in October 1917. Two German light cruisers attacked a twelve-ship convoy that was protected by four British escorts. Nine of the twelve ships were sunk. Then there was a repeat, in mid December. This time five merchantmen accompanied by a strong escort (two destroyers and four armed trawlers) were attacked by four German destroyers. All British ships except one destroyer were sunk.

  Geddes sent Jellicoe a very curt note saying that he was calling a court of enquiry and that if Jellicoe re
fused it he would send the matter up to Fisher. It was, frankly, a bizarre suggestion to make and a very provocative notion. Jellicoe wrote back that he could ‘hardly believe that the suggestion is serious’, as Lord Fisher was no longer in the Navy and that, therefore, the Navy ‘would not trust his judgement & impartiality’.93 Geddes then went on to alter the wording of a draft telegram to Beatty, inserting the idea that the Admiralty would approve the names of the officers on the enquiry. Jellicoe first saw the offending telegram when he visited Beatty on 22 December and found him, understandably, fuming. Jellicoe told Geddes that the telegrams were ‘insulting’. Geddes concluded that he ‘did not like Jellicoe’s frankness.’94 While Geddes subsequently wrote an apology to Beatty, which the commander-in-chief read out to his flag officers, this caused a lot of bad blood with Jellicoe.

  Geddes then sent over a draft of what he proposed to say in Parliament, clearly pointing the finger at Beatty. Jellicoe would have none of it, especially regarding a fellow officer like Beatty. He wrote of the incident:

  On Sunday he sent over to me a draft of an announcement to make in Parliament. It was worded so as to throw blame on Sir D Beatty, and in such a way as to give the idea that the loss of convoy was a disaster of the greatest magnitude as well as preventable. I objected to this wording, altered it a great deal and sent it back. Most of my alterations were adopted, but not all and the announcement was not a happy one.95

  Nevertheless, there is one piece of writing from Sir Eric Geddes to David Lloyd George, meant as a draft response for the prime minister’s use in the House (but never used) that states Geddes’ point of view but not the detail: ‘The Cabinet – the great majority of the Cabinet – felt however great Lord Jellicoe’s services may have been as Commander-in-Chief afloat, which position he held under great strain for 28 months, he lacked certain qualities as the Chief of Naval Staff and as the Chief Naval Advisor of the Government …I was dissatisfied with Lord Jellicoe’.96 Even if Haig also said that the War Cabinet was disenchanted with Jellicoe, there was little evidence that his ideas had been refuted or discredited. Lloyd George did not discuss the firing of a War Cabinet colleague within the War Cabinet.

  Geddes’ brother claimed that during the War Cabinet meeting of 21 December 1917 the question of Jellicoe’s dismissal was discussed. There is no mention in the War Cabinet minutes of the 21st, nor those of the 24th, nor the 26th when Wemyss was present as deputy First Sea Lord. It is doubtful then, that Lloyd George, as he later said, ‘knew the views of (my) colleagues.’97 Wemyss, who had made it known that he did not want to stay on at the Admiralty, was then asked by Geddes on 22 December if he would take over Jellicoe’s spot.

  The creation of the War Cabinet was one of the very first actions taken by David Lloyd George when he became prime minister in December 1916; its composition comprised selected cabinet members and senior military commanders and was chaired by Lloyd George himself. Haig, Robertson and Jellicoe were members. Jellicoe found himself allied to Haig and Robertson in their requests that efforts should be focused on the Western Front rather than be diluted with attacks through the Austro-Hungarian Empire. The vast pressure on naval resources springing from the many commitments on multiple fronts – for example, from Salonika to Egypt – was wearing a thinly spread Navy even thinner. Jellicoe argued in the War Cabinet that there should be an effort made to limit the number of ‘sideshows’, ‘so that more adequate protection be given to ships bringing supplies to our country and to our allies.’98 In this vein he wrote to Carson in April: ‘It is a continual fight to prevent more side-shows being started. He [Lloyd George] is at present mad on one in Palestine, fed from the sea.’99 In July 1917 the War Cabinet supported the Jellicoe-Haig-Robertson triumvirate and the Flanders campaign was given the ‘go ahead’. Jellicoe’s hopes of sealing off the Flanders Flotilla’s bases of Ostend and Zeebrugge evaporated, as the disastrous Passchendaele campaign ground to standstill with the loss of 250,000 British soldiers.

  With this background, it is curious that Haig fomented anti-Jellicoe feelings. It might simply have been that ‘attack is the best form of defence’, because Haig was concerned that otherwise he might become a target of the prime minister himself, as did Robertson. On 18 April Lord Derby spoke to Haig, repeating what Jellicoe had already told the War Cabinet: ‘we have lost command of the sea.’ A month later, the prime minister’s special envoy to Paris, Lord Esher, certainly complained about Jellicoe to Haig: ‘It is time that something was done at the Admiralty. There has been no critical or creative movement within its antique walls since the war began.’100 This was around the same time that Lloyd George made his decision on Jellicoe, the latter putting it down to a midsummer conversation with Haig.

  Haig was a great supporter of Sir Eric Geddes, who had helped solve the land armies’ monumental logistics issues, and Lloyd George now wanted his expertise to be refocused on speeding up the shipbuilding programme as well as getting faster delivery of the anti-submarine weapons. When Geddes was proposed as the Controller, Jellicoe said – according to Arbuthnot Geddes – that he would prefer a naval man. Lloyd George promptly made Geddes a vice admiral. Jellicoe disputed this and maintains that he actually said he would try to smooth things over with the existing Admiralty officials. Apparently Geddes turned to Haig for advice and complained about Carson, whom he thought a man who ‘is very tired and leaves everything to a number of incompetent sailors.’101 A few days later on 25 June, Haig openly spoke to Lloyd George and Lord Curzon about what he termed the ‘seriously deficient state of the Admiralty’, adding that he thought both of them ‘much perturbed already.’102 At breakfast the next day Lloyd George suggested replacing Carson with Robertson and also replacing Jellicoe and other ‘numbskulls’ on the Board. Lord Beaverbrook thought the attack a ‘well organised and thoroughly considered’ campaign to remove Jellicoe and that its motives were clear: ‘It is interesting to speculate on Haig’s motives. Certainly, it may have been that he was moved by genuine concern about Jellicoe’s continued ability to serve in the role of 1SL. He had informed Lady Haig as early as May that he looked on the admiral as an “old woman”.’ Or again, it is possible that that he may have been ‘interested in diverting the lightning from striking at himself, for the dismissal of Haig had been a principal objective of Lloyd George for many months.’103

  Speaking before Parliament in 1918, Lord Carson not only praised Jellicoe, he accusingly addressed the press:

  I saw no one and I knew no one in the Navy who could advise me of anybody who was at all equal to Sir John Jellicoe for the particular position he occupied. When I made that speech at the Constitutional Club (in November 1917) … I was smarting under constant and persistent efforts of a section of the Press to try and get Lord Jellicoe turned out of his post.104

  Jellicoe had come close to accurately predicting his own demise. On the very first day that he entered the Admiralty, 5 December, he told Douglas Brownrigg, when the latter suggested helping him with his press image, that ‘he did not expect to last twelve months and had no time to read the newspapers’.105 In June 1917 he wrote to Beatty about his concerns: ‘I fancy there is a scheme on foot to get rid of me … I expect it will be done first by discrediting me in the Press. That is the usual political move and I have seen signs of it already’.106

  The ‘press’ was essentially one man: Arthur Harmsworth, Viscount Northcliffe, sole proprietor of both The Times and the Daily Mail, a powerful portfolio that appealed to both ends of the British social spectrum. Northcliffe was also ‘a man corrupted by power and wealth, who desecrated journalistic standards and became dominated by the pursuit of political power, unguided by political prescience.’107 Even in Churchill’s eyes, Northcliffe was dangerous, someone who ‘wielded personal power without official responsibility.’108

  Lloyd George carefully cultivated Northcliffe, knowing that the latter could give him access to and support from the British public. It was said that Lloyd George had agreed with the newspaper magnate that th
ey should act in concert regarding Jellicoe: ‘You kill him. I’ll bury him.’ In July, Hankey had remarked that ‘the PM is hot for getting rid of Jellicoe’, and even King George V had said that Lloyd George ‘had the knife into him (Jellicoe) for some time’ [my italics].109 Yet nothing could be done about removing Jellicoe himself until Lloyd George had found a way to rid himself of Edward Carson, a consistent supporter of Jellicoe. This he managed by bringing Carson into the Cabinet. He then left the odious task of actually firing Jellicoe to someone else.

  Press opinion in Northcliffe’s papers abruptly turned against Jellicoe in the summer. In January 1917 the Northcliffe press was full of support: ‘We must be content to accept the firm assurances of Sir Edward Carson and Admiral Jellicoe given on Friday to the Navy League, that steps which it is hoped will be adequate are being taken to counter the depredations of enemy submarines. The pity is that the late Board of the Admiralty lacked foresight.’110 In May there was another example of positive support: ‘A good beginning at the Admiralty … After a thousand days of war we are beginning to return to the system that existed in Nelson’s day.’111 Three days later another complimentary article:

  The figures [for shipping losses] which were published yesterday show that for the week ending May 13 there had been a very marked reduction in the number of ships sunk by submarines. That is all to the good and though we cannot as yet be certain that the improvement will be maintained, we congratulate the officers and men of the Navy very warmly upon it.112

  Then things suddenly turned sour and the reporting took on a strongly negative tone: ‘Ships and men will not be rashly and foolishly sacrificed if we have strategists in charge who know what war is … The recent changes as Mr Lovat Fraser has pointed out did not go far enough or high enough.’113 The attacks clamoured for more accurate information on losses and for better strategic thinkers at the Admiralty. After the first Scandinavian convoy disaster, the press pointed the finger at the Admiralty: ‘The British Navy is an incomparable weapon if only it is placed in hands with the skill to wield it. It is not the fleet at sea that is concerned – for no one blames our seamen – but the Admiralty in London’.114 And days before, when the Germans captured Riga, the Daily Mail wrote that the paper ‘will also naturally expect him (Sir Eric Geddes) to consider very seriously whether the recent changes in high command in Whitehall have gone far enough.’115 On the 25th, titled ‘Weaknesses at the Admiralty’, ‘we have not yet found a man or set of men at the Admiralty with the instinctive genius for carrying on our naval share of the war.’116 And in November, a more personal attack on Jellicoe: ‘The best Navy in the world may be paralysed by feeble control – our strategical direction for which our First Sea Lord is primarily responsible – has shown weakness in three various theatres of war.’117 The attacks became so bad that even Geddes was at the point of seeking legal advice from the Attorney General on whether these articles were damaging to the nation’s war effort, in possible contravention of the Defence of the Realm Act.