Relations between the British and French were exacerbated when the Turks began negotiations for an armistice at the end of October. The negotiations took place aboard the Agamemnon, and the armistice of Mudros was concluded on 30 October. Calthorpe rigidly excluded Amet from all the negotiations, for the Turkish negotiators had been accredited to negotiate only with the British. The Admiralty gave full approval to his conduct. With the Superb, Témeraire, and the destroyers from Otranto in Aegean waters, there could be no question of who was the predominant naval partner. Clemenceau accepted the fait accompli; it was Calthorpe, flying his flag in the Superb, who led the combined Allied fleet into the Dardanelles on 12 November after extensive sweeping. The following day the Allied fleet anchored off Constantinople.54
The submarine war in the Mediterranean ended in a less spectacular fashion. On 10 October the German command at Pola learned the Austrians had begun negotiations for an armistice, and German personnel began to evacuate Pola on the 28th. Nine U-boats were able to sail for Germany from Pola and three from Cattaro between 29 and 31 October. Ten U-boats that could not be made ready for the long voyage home were blown up or scuttled, seven off Pola and one each at Trieste, Fiume, and off Cattaro. The Allies made an attempt to catch the escaping submarines. A new group of American submarine chasers was diverted to Gibraltar on its arrival in European waters, and the British strengthened their patrols in the Straits of Gibraltar. The efforts were as unsuccessful as similar operations elsewhere during the war. One of the Mediterranean U-boats fired a parting shot shortly after passing through the Straits of Gibraltar. UB.50 torpedoed and sank the old British battleship Britannia off Cape Trafalgar on 9 November.55 The Britannia had the melancholy distinction of being the last British warship to be sunk during the war.
13
1918: THE SUBMARINE THREAT CONTAINED
A NEW STRATEGY FOR THE GRAND FLEET
On 24 December 1917 the first lord Sir Eric Geddes asked for and received Jellicoe’s resignation as First Sea Lord. He was replaced by Admiral Sir Rosslyn Wemyss, the deputy chief of naval staff. Jellicoe’s downfall was undoubtedly brought about by the disappointing action of 17 November and the two disasters to the Scandinavian convoy. By this time Jellicoe had been the subject of relentless attacks in the press and much criticism. He was not considered a success as First Sea Lord, and was certainly worn out by the strain of his immense responsibilities during more than three years of war.1 In the final analysis, Lloyd George may have played the decisive role, for King George later wrote Beatty that the prime minister had “his knife into him for some time & wished for a change.”2
Wemyss was not in office long before Beatty proposed a new strategy for the Grand Fleet that reduced the possibilities for offensive action by the big ships but clearly indicated the coast of Flanders as one of the few objectives for an attack. Beatty pointed out that it would be impossible for the British to force the Germans to an action at sea at a moment the British selected. In contrast, the German fleet could choose the propitious moment to sail and the British would then have to meet them with a sufficiently superior force. Beatty now had to reckon on the permanent detachment of those forces covering the Scandinavian convoys, for they likely would not be able to join him in the event of a fleet action. The British were clearly superior in battleships, although the Germans might whittle down that superiority by submarine and mine ambush on the avenues of approach. The situation was less favorable in regard to battle cruisers. The British had on paper nine to the Germans’ six, but Beatty considered only three (the Lion, Princess Royal, and Tiger) fit to be in line against the Germans. The older New Zealands and Invincibles were deficient in speed, protection, and armament, and the newer Renowns insufficiently armored. Here Beatty overestimated German capabilities, for he included the Mackensen in the German total. The Mackensen would indeed have been a formidable opponent, but although launched in April 1917, she was still about fifteen months from completion when stricken after the war. None of her three sister ships were ever completed.
Beatty cited other problems. The Grand Fleet had at best a very slim margin in light cruisers and destroyers because of the demands of convoy and antisubmarine work. There was also the question of British shells. They were inefficient and were not replaced by improved shells until the following summer. For now Beatty was forced to meet the enemy “under a most serious handicap.” Beatty’s conclusion was that “the correct strategy of the Grand Fleet is no longer to endeavour to bring the enemy to action at any cost, but rather to contain him in his bases until the general situation becomes more favorable to us.” Beatty did not mean the British should avoid action if conditions favored them, nor should their role be passive or purely defensive. He recommended offensive minelaying in the vicinity of German bases and offensive operations against German bases on the Flemish coast, which, if successful and coupled with closing the Straits of Dover, might alter the whole situation in their favor and release needed light craft.3
The Admiralty approved the essence of Beatty’s proposal on 17 January but insisted that the policy was “rendered necessary only by the exigencies of the present situation” and was to be regarded as “a purely temporary measure.” They anticipated that within a few months the strength of both the British and U.S. navies in light craft would be considerably increased by the arrival of destroyers presently under construction—at which point the “temporary protective measures” could be abandoned and greater scope given to offensive schemes against the enemy fleet and bases.4
Beatty’s proposals were not really new; he had followed essentially the same strategy throughout 1917. He was acutely conscious of the defects of British naval construction. In another paper of 29 December 1917 he pointed out that even the numerical superiority in battleships over the German fleet must be qualified by the fact the British battleships were “inferior in construction and protection,” and that the improvements made since Jutland were at best “makeshift” and did not “compensate for radical defects in design,” especially in regard to magazine protection. Beatty went so far as to write that should the Grand Fleet meet the High Sea Fleet under present conditions, “there may be a rude awakening for the Country.”5
Beatty’s superiority in battleships over the Germans had seemingly been enhanced beyond question in December 1917 when Battleship Division Nine of the U.S. Atlantic Fleet arrived at Scapa Flow on the 7th under the command of Rear Admiral Hugh Rodman. The American dreadnoughts became the Sixth Battle Squadron of the Grand Fleet and included the dreadnoughts New York, Delaware, Wyoming, and Florida, joined later by the Texas. The American ships were by British request coal burners, because coal was available in the British Isles, unlike fuel oil, which had to be imported. However, it took time before these ships were really integrated into the Grand Fleet. The British recognized that the Americans were keen—Rodman acknowledged they had a lot to learn—but at first Beatty was not impressed with their signaling or wireless, or the gunnery of some of the ships. The Americans had to adopt the British system of signaling and maneuvering and in some respects made remarkable progress. In early February when the Americans went out with the Grand Fleet, Beatty thought they “did very well, and will do better next time” and soon sent Rodman out on his own to cover the Scandinavian convoy. Nevertheless, there was no substitute for experience, and in June 1918, six months after their arrival, Rear Admiral Fremantle, the deputy chief of naval staff, reported Beatty still did not consider the American dreadnoughts had been assimilated well enough to be considered equivalent to British dreadnoughts—although for political reasons the Grand Fleet could not go to sea without them.6 Beatty took care to conceal these thoughts, for most accounts report how well the British and Americans worked together. Rodman wrote in his memoirs: “In my year’s service in the Grand Fleet there was never the slightest friction, petty jealousy, misunderstanding, or any serious personal obstacle to overcome.” As for Beatty: “It was an honor and a pleasure to serve under him.”7 Rodman may
have laid it on a bit thickly, but as friction among the Allies in the Mediterranean showed, it could easily have been very different. This in many ways reflects Beatty’s success as a leader. He knew how to appeal to Americans and had the panache to be successful.
The darker thoughts and private doubts of Beatty concerning the design defects of his capital ships would also have been a surprise to most of the officers and men. The overwhelming majority were confident they had absorbed the lessons of Jutland and had few doubts what the result of another battle with the High Sea Fleet would be. It is another mark of Beatty’s success that the morale of the Grand Fleet remained relatively high despite the lack of action and the uncomfortable conditions and dismal climate of its anchorage. The British worked hard at it, for in addition to the frequent exercises at sea, often under rugged conditions, there were organized sports and regattas for the men. The storeship Gourko was converted to include a theater where ships competed with one another in putting on entertainments. The British naval leaders gave the impression they cared about their men, and morale remained high and discipline good despite the frustrating conditions. Life was certainly no bed of roses, there were inevitable grumblings and discontents, but all in all the Grand Fleet was able to stand the strain of war far better than their German foes. The relationship between officers and men and the disciplinary situation in the German navy were quite different—with, as we shall see, significant consequences.8
THE DOVER STRAIT AND THE COAST OF FLANDERS
The Admiralty’s desire to prevent the passage of submarines through the Straits of Dover made this area the focus of attention in home waters for the first few months of the new year. There were a number of reasons for this. The Admiralty believed that with the success of the convoy system in the open seas, the U-boats had shifted to attacking close to the shore in the Irish Sea and on the Channel coast where ships left convoys and proceeded to port independently. The British believed that the small UB boats of the Flanders Flotilla played a proportionately large role in these attacks, which could still cause painful losses, even if they came nowhere near the devastation of the preceding spring. If they could stop submarines from using the Dover Strait and force them to proceed north about the British Isles, they could reduce the amount of time U-boats could spend on station and thereby reduce shipping losses. There had been futile attempts to render the barrage effective earlier in the war, which provoked periodic and destructive raids by German destroyers (see chapter 11). The problem of how to proceed provoked a sharp dispute with Vice Admiral Bacon, commander of the Dover Patrol since 1915, which ended with Bacon’s removal from his command. The controversy has also been termed “the catalytic cause” of Jellicoe’s dismissal.9
In the autumn of 1917, Plans Division at the Admiralty was alarmed over reports from the director of Naval Intelligence that a substantial number of German submarines—reportedly 30 per month—were passing through the Dover Strait to take their toll on shipping in the Channel.10 The mine-net barrage running from the southern tip of the Goodwin Sands to Snouw Bank off Dunkirk appeared to be ineffective. Roger Keyes, the dynamic chief of staff at the Dardanelles, had been appointed director of plans in September 1917, and in November the first lord appointed him chairman of the Channel Barrage Committee, charged with making the barrage more effective.11 Bacon was aware of the barrage’s limitations and earlier in 1917 had proposed augmenting it with a deep minefield running from Cape Gris-Nez to the Varne. The Admiralty had approved, but no work could be done until a sufficient stock of reliable mines was on hand. The British did not begin laying the minefield until November. Bacon had also found other schemes more attractive. A brilliant, if somewhat difficult, officer who was far from popular in the navy, he found himself in sharp disagreement with the proposals of the Channel Barrage Committee concerning the new barrage. The committee recommended that the minefield—later to be extended to Folkestone—should be swept by searchlights at night. The objective was to force submarines to dive into the deep minefield. The lights would be provided by destroyers with searchlights or drifters with flares closely patrolling the minefield, but ultimately the searchlights would be mounted in specially converted lightships that could be moored and would be capable of riding out heavy weather. Bacon opposed the lightships and the patrols burning lights, which he claimed would disclose the line of obstructions and would be vulnerable to German attack. He proposed a system of searchlights fixed on shore on both sides of the Channel, supplemented by three or four shallow-draft and specially bulged ships fitted with searchlights and guns, and moored at equal distances across the Strait. These special craft, not the patrols, would provide the illumination.
These proposals were unacceptable to the Barrage Committee; Keyes was adamant that they could not wait for specially constructed vessels. Keyes, characteristically, wanted immediate action in the face of continued losses to submarines. There were a host of controversies, including Bacon’s desire to strengthen the old mine-net barrage and the committee’s desire to scrap it as useless. There is no space here to enter into the details of the dispute or the different technical proposals. Both Keyes and Bacon have written at length about it.12 Personalities also came to play an important role in the controversy. When Bacon delayed an Admiralty order of 14 December ordering him to institute a strong patrol in the vicinity of the deep minefield, the recalcitrant Admiral was ordered to the Admiralty for a special conference on the 18th, which ended with Jellicoe finally issuing a direct order to institute a thick, illuminated patrol of the deep minefield. Bacon complied the following night, and UB.56 was forced to dive into the minefield and was destroyed. The submarine’s destruction convinced Geddes, the first lord, as well as Wemyss, then deputy First Sea Lord, that Keyes and the Plans Division had been correct. By this time the controversy also had convinced them they would have no satisfactory solution while Bacon remained in command. Jellicoe, however, strongly supported Bacon. The climax was Jellicoe’s dismissal followed a few days later by that of Bacon. Keyes, his bitter critic, superseded him in command of the Dover Patrol.13
Keyes was now free to implement the proposals of the Channel Barrage Committee. The deep minefields were laid, strengthened, and replenished as fast as they could get mines. There were about seventy craft, mostly drifters, in line abreast, stemming the tide and keeping station on lit mooring buoys that formed a lane through the center of the minefield. All available old 30-knot turtleback destroyers, P-boats, and paddle minesweepers with searchlights were stationed on either side of the minefield, with trawlers between them burning flares throughout the night at brief intervals. Keyes hoped that as soon as anything on the surface got past the flare line, it would be silhouetted against the glare to the drifters. The drifters, armed at best with a six-pounder, usually would be outgunned by submarines, but their major objective was to force the submarines to dive into the deep minefield. Keyes described the situation on 18 January: “Folkestone to Gris Nez is a glare of light. So killing submarines is simply a question of mines.”14
The new system demonstrated results, although as in everything connected with the submarine war, they were measured rather than spectacular. There was no miracle cure for the submarine. In addition to the first victim, UB.56 on 19 December, the Dover Strait minefields apparently claimed UC.50 on 8 January, U.109 on 26 January, UB.38 on 8 February, UB.58 on 10 March, UB.33 on 11 April, and UB.55 on 22 April. In addition, the destroyer Leven sank UB.35 with depth charges north of Calais on 26 January. To put this in perspective, prior to December 1917, only about two U-boats had been destroyed by mines in the Dover Strait during the entire war.15
The objective, however, was not merely to sink submarines but rather to stop the U-boats from using the Dover Strait. Did the British succeed? On the whole, the answer is yes. The new effectiveness of the Dover Strait barrage was an unpleasant development for the Germans, particularly the Flanders Flotilla at Bruges, for it undercut the geographical advantages of this forward base. The UB and UC boat
s of the Flanders Flotilla were the majority of submarines passing through the Strait. The Dover passage had been optional for commanders of the High Sea Fleet submarines—mostly the larger U-boats—during most of 1917. On 1 November 1917, Commodore Michelsen, the Befehlshaber der U-Boote, made the Dover route mandatory, unless physical conditions such as full moon or fog imposed unacceptable risks. The new British measures and the reluctance of U-boat commanders to use the Dover Strait led the B.d.U. at the beginning of February to allow High Sea Fleet U-boats to use the northern route again. The last High Sea Fleet U-boat to use the Strait was U.55, which left Helgoland on 18 February, but returned via the north of Scotland.16 This added six days to their passage, which meant that much less time in operational areas.
The smaller and handier Flanders boats were harder to stop and continued to pass through the Strait, although the overall trend in passages was down. Through wireless intercepts the British were able to discern this, even if they could not know of every passage or all the details. Naval Intelligence estimated total outward and homeward passages by submarines to have been: in December, 38 via Dover and 23 via the north; in January, 17 via Dover and 19 via the north; and in February, 12 via Dover and 29 via the north. Another estimate, apparently using a different basis, showed similar results, with 19 Dover and 17 northern passages in December, 5 Dover and 18 northern passages in January, and one Dover and 39 northern passages in February. The Strait was never completely closed; the Flanders U-boats attempted to use it in diminishing numbers, and suffered losses, during much of the remainder of the war. The last U-boat to attempt the Dover passage appears to have been UB.103, sunk by depth charges from 6 drifters off Cape Gris-Nez on 16 September. It is always difficult in submarine warfare to ascertain exactly when and where a submarine was destroyed. Keyes at the end of the war estimated they had sunk 26 submarines in or near the barrage, but a modern estimate based on information unavailable at the time places the correct figure at 14. The effect was the same; the Dover Strait was with but few exceptions for all practical purposes closed to German submarines.17
A Naval History of World War I Page 70