The boost to British morale provided by the Cuxhaven raid on Christmas Day was soon offset by another startling German submarine success. Early on the morning of New Year’s Day, the submarine U.24 torpedoed and sank the predreadnought Formidable of the Channel Fleet. Vice Admiral Sir Lewis Bayly, commander of the Channel Fleet, had been conducting tactical exercises, and the ships, in apparent disregard of the submarine danger, were steaming slowly without zigzagging. Although a predreadnought, this was the first battleship to be sunk by a submarine during the war, and the loss of life was high, only 233 out of 780 officers and men surviving in the rough seas. Bayly, who claimed the Admiralty had failed to warn him submarines might be found so far west in the Channel, was relieved of his command. He eventually redeemed himself with his successful command at Queenstown later in the war (see chapter 11).46
The Germans had been encouraged by the results of 16 December but were puzzled as to how the British seemed to have an uncanny ability to know when they were at sea. There was the usual suspicion of spies and a feverish hunt for subversives. Other Germans, including Hipper, suspected that the numerous fishing trawlers in the North Sea, usually under neutral Dutch colors, probably included some equipped with wireless, serving as British scouts and reporting German movements. Many of these vessels often were centered around the Dogger Bank, because these shallow patches were some of the best fishing areas in the North Sea. The Dogger Bank was also located athwart the direct route from the German bases to the east coast of England. Additionally, Hipper had intelligence that unsupported British light forces might also be found on the Dogger Bank. It thus became a tempting target for another raid by the German battle cruisers.
Hipper had wanted the High Sea Fleet to come out into the eastern part of the North Sea in support, but the kaiser remained firmly against risking the fleet outside of German waters. Ingenohl therefore accepted the calculated risk of sending the First and Second scouting groups (the battle cruisers, four light cruisers, and two flotillas of torpedo boats) in an operation he believed would be over within twenty-four hours. Hipper, flying his flag in the Seydlitz, was short a battle cruiser. He had only the Moltke and Derfflinger because the Von der Tann was under refit. He also took the armored cruiser Blücher, and this decision has been the subject of much criticism, for this hybrid had only 20.5-cm guns compared to the 30.5- and 28-cm guns of the other German battle cruisers. The Blücher was also slower, and this supposedly imperiled the entire squadron and eventually led to the ship’s loss. A recent biographer of Hipper has, however, pointed out that the Blücher’s guns, although lighter, actually had the longest range of any of the German battle cruisers and that she had been well able to maintain the squadron’s speed until damaged by a hit in the engine room.
Ingenohl left an important factor out of his calculations. He did not realize that the British intercepted his wireless order to Hipper on 23 January to reconnoiter the Dogger Bank—and that Room 40 was able to read it. The British were able to set what they hoped would be a trap. Beatty with five battle cruisers and Goodenough’s light cruiser squadron sailed from Rosyth to rendezvous with Tyrwhitt’s Harwich Force (three light cruisers and thirty-five destroyers) near the Dogger Bank at dawn the following morning. Keyes with the Lurcher and Firedrake and the British submarines were sent in the direction of Borkum Riff and instructed to remain in wireless contact. The Third Battle Squadron (seven predreadnought “King Edward VIIs”) and the Third Cruiser Squadron (three armored cruisers) sailed from Rosyth for a position where they could cut off the Germans if they tried to escape to the north. Farther to the north, Jellicoe sailed from Scapa Flow with the Grand Fleet on a sweep of the North Sea, ready to intervene if the High Sea Fleet came out.
The action began at dawn on the 24th, when the light cruiser Aurora of the Harwich Force clashed with the cruiser Kolberg. Both Beatty and Hipper steamed toward the far-distant gun flashes, Beatty on a southeasterly and Hipper on a northwesterly course. The various reports from German cruisers and intercepted wireless traffic convinced Hipper the British were probably out in force and that he might be heading into a trap. He altered course to the southeast, that is, in the general direction of home. Beatty in the Lion, his ships working up to full speed, could actually see the German battle cruisers by 7:50 A.M., and a chase developed. Beatty repeatedly signaled for increases in speed, beyond what any expected the older battle cruisers could do. The British stokers made extraordinary efforts, but as the distance between the Germans and the British battle cruisers Lion, Tiger, and Princess Royal decreased, the older battle cruisers New Zealand and Indomitable gradually fell behind.
The range had fallen sufficiently by 9:05 for the British to open fire. It was some time before the New Zealand was in effective range to join, and longer still for the Indomitable. The Germans returned fire at 9:11, hampered by the dense smoke. Hipper’s heavy ships were now arranged with the Seydlitz in front, followed by the Moltke and Derfflinger, with the Blücher, the weakest ship, in the rear, where throughout the action she would tend to attract the brunt of the British fire.
The British did not achieve the decisive victory they should have, largely due to faulty signaling combined with damage to the Lion, which included flooding of the capstan compartment from which salt water reached the secondary condenser, eventually leading to salt contamination of the boilers, which stopped the ship. Things began to go awry after Beatty’s 9:35 signal “Engage the corresponding ship in the enemy’s line” was misinterpreted by the Tiger, leaving the Moltke undisturbed and free to concentrate on the leading British ships. There was another serious error when Beatty, observing that the Blücher was in a bad way, ordered the Indomitable to deal with her. He then signaled the other battle cruisers to “close the enemy as rapidly as possible consistent with keeping all guns bearing.” In the poor visibility, these signals were either not, or only partially, received. While the Lion’s speed steadily diminished, other hits led to the port engine being stopped and additional flooding, which increased her list and knocked out the remaining dynamo. Furthermore, only two signal halyards remained; the others had been shot away. It had been difficult enough to read the signals in the poor visibility, and Beatty’s control of the battle was slipping away as the Lion fell behind.
At 10:54 Beatty, in the erroneous belief he had sighted a submarine periscope, ordered a turn 90 degrees to port. The signal was made without the submarine warning signal, and this caused further confusion as to Beatty’s intentions. It also allowed the Germans to pull farther ahead, as if Beatty was giving up the chase. Then, as the battle cruisers raced ahead of the Lion, the flagship gave what turned out to be the most damaging signal of all. Beatty wanted to signal to “engage the enemy main body,” but there was no signal in the signal book for this, and Lieutenant Commander Seymour chose the signal he considered to be most similar in meaning: “Attack the rear of the enemy.” However, because the signal for “course northeast” was still flying, the signal seemed to be “Attack the rear of the enemy bearing northeast.” In the New Zealand, Rear Admiral Sir Archibald Moore, who was now senior officer, interpreted this to mean the already doomed Blücher. Beatty and his staff were appalled as they saw the battle cruisers apparently concentrating on the doomed German ship, and they thought of Nelson’s old signal to “engage the enemy more closely,” only to discover it was no longer in the book. The nearest signal was, “Keep nearer the enemy,” but this had no effect.
The Blücher fought bravely until she capsized and sank a little after 11:45. Beatty shifted his flag to the destroyer Attack at 11:20, but by the time Beatty caught up to and boarded the Princess Royal at 12:27 it was too late. The Germans had gotten away. Keyes, who had hoped the Germans might have been delayed by crippled ships, also was too late to find any targets.47 The Battle of Dogger Bank was a victory to cheer the British public; the picture of the capsized Blücher with her crew scrambling like ants over the hull is one of the best known of the war and frequently reproduced to this day. I
t was, however, an incomplete victory, and Beatty recognized this. He wrote his friend Keyes: “The disappointment of that day is more than I can bear to think of, everybody thinks it was a great success, when in reality it was a terrible failure. I had made up my mind that we were going to get four, the lot, and four we ought to have got.”48
The battle cruiser squadrons were reorganized into three squadrons and designated the Battle Cruiser Fleet, with its primary base at Rosyth. The relative weakness in battle cruisers compared to the Germans in the North Sea eased for the British as ships returned from distant waters. Moore, however, paid the penalty for his misjudgments and was quietly given command of a squadron of old cruisers working off the Canary Islands, where he was not likely to see much action.
The battle had greater repercussions on the German side. The Germans assumed at first that at least one British battle cruiser had been sunk and that Dogger Bank had been a partially successful encounter. They were probably confused by a spectacular and highly visible but nonfatal fire in the Tiger. When the truth became apparent after a few days, Admiral von Müller, chief of the kaiser’s Naval Cabinet, came to the conclusion that a change in command of the High Sea Fleet was necessary. This view was widely shared; some of the more political officers in the High Sea Fleet intrigued viciously against the commander in chief. Ingenohl was replaced by von Pohl who, in turn, was replaced at the Admiralstab by Vice Admiral Gustav Bachmann. Kaiser Wilhelm approved, according to Müller: “The matter was settled smoothly. No trace of human sympathy displayed.” Von Pohl had an outstanding record as a squadron commander and was well known for his exploits in China during the Boxer Rebellion. On the other hand, he was not popular with the officer corps, largely because of a certain arrogance. Bachmann was described as “a calm, experienced man,” not suited to be commander in chief, definitely not a “strong man,” but someone who would probably get on better with Tirpitz, to whom he was acceptable. There was a certain lack of enthusiasm about the new appointments, but, Müller lamented, “At the time there were no better alternatives.”49
The strategy of Kleinkrieg was not working. There were alternatives proposed. Tirpitz, in a surprising move for the creator of the powerful big ships of the High Sea Fleet, concluded that British building would alter the situation still more to Germany’s disadvantage in the future. He now advocated airship attacks on London; a submarine blockade, using Zeebrugge and Ostend as bases for submarine and destroyer raids, with minelaying in the Thames; and the immediate launching of cruiser war in the Atlantic. Tirpitz claimed: “In view of the extraordinary importance of trade disruption, namely in supplying the west of England with food, I can promise an unqualified success from a cruiser war.”50
The losses of Dogger Bank only made the kaiser more determined than ever not to risk the big ships, which had to be preserved “as a political instrument.” The High Sea Fleet might make occasional sorties, but von Pohl would not seek battle outside of the Bight. Here he could enjoy a great advantage in light craft and extensive minefields. As Jellicoe was unwilling to put his head in the German noose, a major encounter was unlikely. The long-term results of this on the morale of the High Sea Fleet were not healthy. If the capital ships would not be used, what could the German navy do? The answer was submarine warfare against British trade. It was becoming more and more apparent that the defeat of Great Britain was the key to German victory. On 4 February 1915 the Germans declared the waters around Great Britain and Ireland, including the entire English Channel, to be a military area in which every hostile merchant vessel would be destroyed, even if it was not possible to provide for the safety of passengers and crew. Neutral ships would also be in danger in those areas, and because of the alleged British misuse of neutral flags and the accidents of war, the Germans warned that attacks might involve neutrals. Shipping north of the Shetland Islands, in the eastern part of the North Sea, and in a strip at least 30 nautical miles along the Dutch coast would not be threatened.51 This policy incurred serious diplomatic consequences that ultimately had much to do with determining the outcome of the war (see chapter 10).
The character and ordinary routine of the war changed for the British in 1915. Commander Stephen King-Hall, who had been in the light cruiser Southampton, observed that the policy of large ships such as battleships and battle cruisers cruising about in hope of seeing something was the first thing abandoned, and patrols and sweeps were increasingly left to light cruisers. By the spring of 1915 this too had fallen into disfavor, and ships would go to sea for three reasons: (1) to intercept blockade runners or bring to action enemy ships whose presence was known, (2) to carry out an offensive operation as far as the strategic situation offered scope for such an operation, and (3) for exercises. The rationale for this was that the Germans would not come into the North Sea without a definite operation in mind, and the presence of mines and submarines made it an unhealthy place merely to cruise for the sake of cruising. The operations in 1915 were three- to five-day “stunts,” which King-Hall defined as operations “trying to get at the inaccessible Hun.” Stunts were usually preceded by “flaps” or “panics”—the frantic efforts necessary to accomplish the myriad tasks necessary to get ships at four hours’ notice ready to sail. Stunts might include air raids directed at zeppelin sheds, minelaying expeditions to the Bight, or sweeps up the Norwegian coast. The area between the Shetlands, Iceland, and the Norwegian coast was termed the Grand Fleet’s “front garden,” and here tactical exercises—known as “P.Z.s”—would be performed.52
The submarine danger had indeed contributed the most toward making the North Sea for capital ships somewhat similar to the no-man’s-land between the opposing trench systems on land. They would be risked there, but only for specific purposes. Sea power came to be exercised more and more by smaller craft, often not even originally built as warships. They included trawlers and drifters from the fishing fleets, and freighters or liners taken from the merchant service. This was particularly true of the blockade, that relentless, grinding daily exercise of sea power. The work was hardly glamorous and largely unknown to the public, who tended to think of sea power solely in terms of “real” warships.
The Tenth Cruiser Squadron was a prime example of this aspect of the naval war in northern waters. Its initial patrol area went from the Shetlands to Norway in the east and from the Shetlands to the coast of Scotland in the south. The first commander was Rear Admiral Dudley de Chair, who had eight Edgar-class cruisers, among the oldest in the Royal Navy. The duties included intercepting German merchantmen, and when these had disappeared from the high seas, intercepting neutrals carrying contraband to Germany.
The old Edgar-class cruisers were not up to the strain of working in heavy weather in these waters and the Admiralty concluded that all the cruisers would have to be replaced with armed merchant cruisers, and on 22 November ordered them back to port to pay off. De Chair hoisted his flag in the former Allan liner Alsatian (18,000 tons), a ship large enough to cope with the arduous conditions of the patrol. The theoretical strength of the squadron was to be twenty-four ships, although this many were not always available. The ships themselves were diverse, including a number of banana boats from the Caribbean trade. The Admiralty armed them at first with 4.7-inch guns taken from obsolete cruisers that had been broken up, but they soon realized that these would be inadequate against the potential armament of German raiders, or even submarines, and they were replaced with 6-inch guns as quickly as possible.
The captains of the armed merchant cruisers were usually regular naval officers; the other officers were temporary or permanent Royal Naval Reserve officers, and often their peacetime employment had been in the same ship. There was usually a party of Royal Marines, but most of the ships’ companies were reservists or former merchant marine ratings. Each ship also carried members of the Newfoundland Naval Reserve, and these former fishermen became famous for their expert small-boat handling in carrying officers and boarding parties to inspect intercepted ships in the ro
ugh waters. The weather was usually bad, and frequently too rough to lower boats. The boarding crews had an adventurous life, and the same could be said for prize crews in ships sent in to Kirkwall in the Orkneys. They were generally under a young midshipman, with only five or six armed bluejackets or marines who found themselves in a strange ship with a frequently none-too-friendly crew or an uncooperative master. As the number of interceptions went up, it often took several weeks before the prize crews could get back to their respective ships, and an armed merchant cruiser might have as many as sixteen crews away at the same time. These men were on the sharp end of the blockade; they were the ones who endured the almost inevitable friction with neutrals. Certain captains of the Norwegian American line seemed particularly hardheaded, and ostensibly neutral liners such as the Bergensfjord (10,666 tons) became notorious for playing a cat-and-mouse game and testing the blockader’s skill. There were often other dangers for the prize crews, particularly if a submarine stopped or attacked the ship being taken in for examination.
On 5 November 1914, the Admiralty declared the entire North Sea a war area, and all ships passing through the line from northwest of the Hebrides to the Faeroes to Iceland would do so at their own peril. The Admiralty wanted all traffic, even that bound for Scandinavia, to pass through the English Channel, where it would be given sailing directions. These measures obviously caused great inconvenience for the northern neutrals, and eventually eight of the leading Scandinavian shipping companies received permission for their ships to go north about the British Isles provided they called at Kirkwall for inspection. The actual patrol areas changed in the course of the year, reflecting the submarine danger, the tightening of the blockade, and of course the seasons. In the summer months they even included the north of Iceland.
A Naval History of World War I Page 9