A Naval History of World War I
Page 6
For some time after the war began, the British expected the Germans would come out to do battle. The Germans, for their part, expected the British would fall on the German fleet the moment it exposed itself and never expected, at least according to the future German commander in chief Admiral Scheer, that the Grand Fleet would fall back on the distant blockade and run few risks. However, the war orders issued to the commander in chief of the High Sea Fleet clearly specified that he should not risk the fleet in battle until there was a probability of victory, and this would not occur until equality had been reached by wearing down the Grand Fleet through damage inflicted while it was engaged in a close blockade of the German Bight. If a favorable opportunity for battle presented itself earlier, it was to be exploited.15 Because neither side would rationally seek battle under unfavorable circumstances and both the British and Germans were unlikely to believe simultaneously that the situation favored them, a major encounter between the Grand Fleet and High Sea Fleet was improbable except by accident.
As a result of these considerations, the naval war in the major theater developed in a very different manner than most had expected. It was a war of sweeps, minelaying, sudden sharp clashes between relatively small numbers, and, of course, “ambushes” in the form of submarine attacks. The first clash came on 5 August when the cruiser Amphion and destroyers Lance and Landrail of the Third Flotilla of the Harwich Force encountered the auxiliary German minelayer Königin Luise. The small ship had been a prewar excursion boat, hastily taken into naval service, painted to resemble a Great Eastern Railway steamer, and then sent to lay mines off Harwich. The destroyer Lance fired the first shot of the Anglo-German naval war, and the Königin Luise was sunk. But the next day, on returning from the sweep, the dead reckoning of the Third Flotilla proved faulty and the Amphion ran over a German mine and sank, the first British casualty of the war.16
In the north, acting on rumors the Germans would attack, and in order to prevent German armed merchant cruisers from breaking out, the Grand Fleet on 4 August swept to within 100 miles of the Norwegian coast, establishing a pattern of what was to be numerous fruitless sweeps during the war. One armed merchant cruiser, the Kaiser Wilhelm der Grosse, did break out at this time, but her fate will be described in another chapter. The British were troubled by persistent rumors of German activities in Norway; for example, that off the Lofoten Islands merchant ships were being fitted out as auxiliary raiders. On 7 August British cruisers and destroyers even violated Norwegian territorial waters to look for them. The British later formally apologized to the Norwegian government, but for a time Jellicoe diverted forces in extensive searches around the Norwegian coast for either potential German raiders or parent ships for submarines, and a cruiser also was dispatched to check the Danish-owned Faeroe Islands.
The kaiser had been fond of cruising in the magnificent Norwegian fjords in his yacht the Hohenzollern, and in the years before the war portions of the German fleet had undertaken regular summer cruises to Norwegian waters. The Norwegians were determined to remain neutral. They had heaved a sigh of relief when the German warships quickly returned to their safe bases in Germany as the diplomatic situation turned critical. The Norwegians were aware that their geographical position made a base on the Norwegian coast attractive for both sides, and on 1 August precautionary measures were taken on an official level, manning coastal fortifications and placing the Norwegian navy on alert. On the diplomatic front, the Norwegian government joined the governments of Denmark and Sweden in a declaration of intent to remain neutral in the war between Austria-Hungary and Serbia. On 2 August the Norwegians ordered full mobilization of their navy (including four coast-defense ships armed with 8.2-inch guns, four destroyers, thirty-one torpedo boats of varying ages, and one submarine) and reinforcements for their coastal defenses. The big question was whether they could remain neutral in an Anglo-German war. The answer in this war would be yes, if only because of the strategies of the major belligerents.17 On the whole it was German rather than British actions—mining international waters and unrestricted submarine warfare—that would harm Norway and her large merchant fleet the most, although British enforcement of the blockade resulted in a certain amount of friction, and certain Norwegian captains had what amounted to an adversarial relationship with the British blockaders.
The first of the major British naval objectives—the transport of one cavalry and four infantry divisions of the British Expeditionary Force to France—began on 7 August. There were no convoys or escorts, and the transports sailed independently or in pairs as they filled up. To guarantee their safety, covering squadrons sealed both entrances of the Channel from raids and the Grand Fleet sailed to a position where it might attack the German fleet if it tried to interfere. The bulk of the transport began on the 12th and was substantially completed on the 18th. The Germans could do little to stop it. Shortly before the war they had concluded they might delay such a transport by energetic attacks on the British blockading force, thereby creating a climate of insecurity at sea. But when that British blockading force failed to appear close inshore, the Germans realized that only by employing the battle fleet could they have any effect.
The German naval leaders appeared sensitive to the reproach the expensive fleet did little to help the army’s offensive. Admiral Scheer, then commanding the Second Squadron, dismissed the possibility of interfering with British supply lines by calling it a “totally impossible demand,” with losses out of all proportion to any advantage that might be derived. Ships held up by the presence of the German fleet simply would sail after it had departed. Moreover, an incursion into the English Channel by way of the Dover Strait would place the fleet in a poor tactical position, with no room to maneuver against torpedoes and mines. The radius of action of German destroyers would only just reach that far and, lacking fuel, they would be compelled to return. The fleet would then have to either return with them or take the unacceptable risk of doing without their protection. Scheer described a German fleet in the English Channel as being placed “as if it were corked in a bottle.”18
The Germans at this stage of the war were still expecting a major attack by the Grand Fleet, and they were uncertain of either the fleet’s or the blockade line’s location. On 6 August they sent ten submarines of the First Submarine Flotilla into the North Sea as far as the line between Scapa Flow and Hardanger Fjord on the Norwegian coast. One submarine disappeared without a trace, and another, U.15, was rammed and sunk with all hands on 9 August by the cruiser Birmingham, which had been part of the cruiser screen 30 miles ahead of the Grand Fleet. The news was highly alarming to Jellicoe, for the preceding day the dreadnought Monarch had reported being attacked by a submarine while detached for gunnery practice. Keyes, then Captain (S), would later write that the fact the Monarch was performing such a task within 500 miles of Helgoland was an example of the navy’s general ignorance of submarine powers and limitations. As early as 1910 a British submarine had operated successfully over 500 miles from her base, and Keyes wondered why the Germans were not given credit for similar enterprise. But Jellicoe, if not the Admiralty, was very aware of the danger, and as soon as the immediate need to cover the British Expeditionary Force’s crossing had ended, withdrew the fleet to northwest of the Orkneys. He was also worried by the lack of defenses at Scapa Flow and ordered Loch Ewe on the west coast of Scotland to be prepared as a secondary base. Future sweeps into the North Sea were accomplished as fast as possible; the big ships did not linger.19
Jellicoe actually felt safer at sea than he did in Scapa Flow, and in the early months of the war, the fleet stayed there no longer than was necessary to fuel. There were also panics, jokingly referred to as the first and second “Battles of Scapa” (1 September and 16 October), when a submarine was reported in the anchorage, and Jellicoe was willing to take the risk of getting the fleet to sea in a hurry in bad weather or at night. The Grand Fleet used Loch Ewe on the northwest coast of Scotland as an anchorage, and when this seemed too exposed i
n the second half of October, moved to Loch na Keal farther to the south on the Scottish coast. Jellicoe even went as far as Lough Swilly on the north coast of Ireland. The danger was not purely imaginary. On 23 November the submarine U.18 did manage to penetrate Hoxa Sound, one of the entrances to the anchorage at Scapa Flow, before it was rammed by a trawler and eventually forced to scuttle itself. The battle cruiser anchorage on the east coast of Scotland in Cromarty Firth was considered “fairly secure” by 26 October, but the work at Scapa Flow went more slowly, and the first line of obstructions at the Hoxa entrance was only completed on 29 December, the first line in Switha Sound on 12 January 1915, and those of Hoy Sound, the remaining entrance, by 19 February 1915.20
British submarines also had been active in the Helgoland Bight since the beginning of the war. Commodore (S) Roger Keyes was a fiery officer who frequently went out with his submarines in the destroyers Lurcher and Firedrake, scouting ahead for them or serving as a wireless link. The attempt to “work” submarines from surface warships appears quaint today, but in the early stages of the war it did not seem unusual, particularly for passing on wireless messages. The idea that submarines could work in conjunction with the battle fleet died hard in the Royal Navy, and later in the war it led to the unsuccessful experiment with the large and fast (but unhandy) K-class, steam-driven submarines.21
British submarines did bring back valuable intelligence on German patrols in the Helgoland Bight, and Keyes began agitating for an attack to “mop up” the German destroyer patrols. This could give the British submarines a shot at any German cruisers that might come out in support. “When are we going to make war and make the Germans realize that whenever they come out . . . they will be fallen on and attacked?” he wrote the director of operations. On 23 August he submitted a plan for the attack, securing the equally aggressive Tyrwhitt’s support, and when the War Staff seemed preoccupied with other matters, managed to interest Churchill in the project. The result was the first significant naval encounter of the war. Unfortunately the Admiralty staff work was poor and nearly contributed to a disaster. The scheme called for Tyrwhitt to lead his First and Second Flotillas (each with sixteen destroyers) and their leaders, the light cruisers Fearless and Arethusa, in the attack on the patrols. Keyes’s submarines would be deployed in two lines: an inner line to attack any German cruisers that might sortie, and a second line to surface and draw German destroyers away from Helgoland and out to sea. There would be another pair of British submarines off the mouth of the Ems. Rear Admiral Sir Archibald Moore with the battle cruisers New Zealand and Invincible would cruise to the north as heavy support in case they were needed. The old Bacchante-class armored cruisers would be off Terschelling as a reserve.
The Admiralty failed to notify Jellicoe promptly of the impending operation and then gave him few details. Jellicoe offered assistance, but Vice Admiral Sir F. Doveton Sturdee, chief of staff, informed him that the entire Grand Fleet was not necessary. However, he could support the operation with battle cruisers if convenient. Jellicoe accordingly sent Vice Admiral David Beatty with the battle cruisers Lion, Queen Mary, and Princess Royal, accompanied by the First Light Cruiser Squadron of Commodore William E. Goodenough (six town-class light cruisers), to join Moore. Beatty put to sea with very little information about the operation. Unfortunately, Keyes and Tyrwhitt never received the news Beatty would be at sea, apparently because they had already sailed and were out of wireless range. Consequently, when Goodenough’s light cruisers arrived on the scene, they created a certain amount of confusion. Tyrwhitt quickly discovered their identity as he was beginning his sweep, but Keyes at first reported them as hostile. Keyes eventually realized his mistake, but what about the British submarines? They had been instructed that beyond the Arethusa and Fearless, any cruisers encountered in the Bight should be considered as hostile. Goodenough’s light cruisers therefore ran the considerable danger of being attacked by their own submarines, and one British submarine actually was prepared to fire when her commander noticed the red cross of Saint George in a cruiser’s ensign. E.6 actually fired at the Southampton, which, assuming she was being attacked by a U-boat, attempted to ram—fortunately without success.22
The Helgoland action of 28 August was a most confusing encounter; the track charts of the action are possibly the most difficult to follow of any battle during the war. All reports describe ships dashing in and out of the fog and haze that worked to the disadvantage of both sides. It prevented, for example, the German coastal batteries at Helgoland from effectively taking part in the action. The Germans had nine destroyers on the outer patrol line in the Bight and a similar number of minesweepers on an inner line. In theory the Germans had four cruisers, two torpedo-boat flotillas, and a minesweeping division allotted for defense of the Bight by day, and five small cruisers and three torpedo-boat flotillas by night.23 The Germans had approximately seven additional cruisers to support the patrols, but they were in port and would have to raise steam. Most important of all, low water prevented German capital ships from crossing the Jade bar during the morning.
The sweep began with the German destroyers fleeing into the mist, which hampered the effectiveness of the British fire. Tyrwhitt’s flagship, Arethusa, had only been commissioned two days earlier, and as German cruisers joined the action, her deficiencies became clear. Two of her guns jammed, and a shell from the cruiser Frauenlob reduced her speed. More and more German cruisers began to emerge from the harbors. Fortunately for the British, Rear Admiral Leberecht Maas, commander of the Second Scouting Group and senior officer of the torpedo boats, was very aggressive and extremely anxious to engage. Consequently he committed his cruisers piecemeal instead of waiting to concentrate.
The British had not done as well as they had anticipated when Tyrwhitt began his withdrawal to the west. They had sunk only the destroyer V.187 and were still on the doorstep of the German bases with heavy ships likely to appear at any time. The damaged Arethusa and the British destroyers were hotly engaged. German cruisers appeared and disappeared into the mist, and the British were lucky the German attacks were not concentrated or well coordinated. The flotillas requested support, and Beatty, some 40 miles to the north, was faced with a difficult decision. He had not heard from the flotillas for some time, they now seemed to have made little progress, and with the German bases so close there was the possibility of a grave disaster. He did not think Goodenough’s light cruisers would be sufficiently strong to deal with the situation quickly enough. Beatty decided to intervene decisively and with crushing strength, despite the low visibility and unknown dangers from possible submarines and mines or enemy capital ships. Captain Ernle Chatfield, his flag captain, described how Beatty turned to him on the bridge of the Lion and said, “I ought to go and support Tyrwhitt, but if I lose one of these valuable ships the country will not forgive me.” Chatfield, admitting he was unburdened by responsibility, replied that surely they must go. “It was all he needed,” Chatfield stated, “but whatever I had said would have made little difference. We steamed towards Tyrwhitt at twenty-five knots. . . .”24
The intervention of first Goodenough’s and then Beatty’s force was decisive. By the time the British withdrew, three German light cruisers, the Mainz, Ariadne, and Admiral Maas’s flagship, the Köln, had been sunk or were sinking. Maas did not survive. Hipper’s battle cruisers did not arrive until well after the British had left. The Arethusa and two damaged British destroyers had to be towed in the final stages of the return home. The Germans by all accounts fought bravely and well. A British officer who had been in the Southampton that day wrote after the war: “The Germans fought well. They have always fought well whenever I have seen them fight at sea, and they were beaten on this day because they were overwhelmed by a greatly superior force; and the side which can achieve this state of affairs will, other things being equal, always win in war.”25
The British had won a naval victory, their first of the war, and they had won it right on the doorstep of the enemy. Tyr
whitt reported how Churchill “fairly slobbered” over him when he came aboard the battered Arethusa. Keyes was more modest; he wrote Goodenough, “I think an absurd fuss was made over that small affair [28 August], except in regard to the gallant conduct of the Arethusa and Fearless.” He added, “It makes me sick and disgusted to think what a complete success it might have been but for, I won’t say dual, but—multiple control.” Keyes maintained that if they had been given the support he and Tyrwhitt wanted at the beginning—that is, Goodenough’s light cruisers inshore with the Fearless and Arethusa—they might have sunk at least six cruisers.26
The action had important psychological repercussions on the German side. The kaiser, who was quick with his reproaches, was confirmed in his defensive inclination. Tirpitz, whose position as state secretary of the Reichsmarineamt excluded him from operational matters, was beside himself. He could not understand why at the approach of the British the entire fleet had not been ordered to sea with every vessel they had, for there would have been nothing better for the Germans than a battle so close to their own ports. Hipper, who was responsible for the defense of the Bight, did make certain changes. He decided that the German cruisers had advanced too rapidly at the signal the enemy were approaching and that in the future they were to fall back under the guns of Helgoland. Furthermore, at least four capital ships would be stationed outside the Jade bar for the remainder of the war, all capital ships would be at two hours’ notice for steaming, and two large minefields were to be laid west of Helgoland. Perhaps most important of all, 28 August strengthened the defensive attitude of the German leaders. The kaiser was afraid that what had happened to the cruisers in the Bight might happen to his precious battle fleet. Regardless of Tirpitz’s growls, the kaiser now insisted that the commander in chief of the High Sea Fleet should wire for his consent before engaging in a fleet action.27