by Peter Hart
As the operations progressed it was becoming increasingly evident that the forts and minefields were not the only threats the fleet would have to overcome.
We were being fired on by concealed howitzers. They are beastly things to deal with as they fire from behind a hill and all you know about them is that shells are falling all around. You can’t even tell what direction they come from and so it is impossible to hit back. When these batteries are located by aeroplanes they move. Luckily they are not big guns, but this high-angle fire is very objectionable as the projectiles come pretty nearly straight down on to a ship’s deck and side armour is no good.9
Midshipman Herbert Williams, HMS Agamemnon
The howitzers could cause superficial damage to the pre-dreadnoughts, but the main threat posed by their shells was to the converted fishing trawlers being used as minesweepers. With a maximum speed while sweeping of only six knots they made easy targets as they tried to make progress against the three to four knot current pouring through the Dardanelles out into the Aegean. This vulnerability made their formerly civilian crews, who had been signed up for ‘Hostilities Only’, very nervous. Even when they were belatedly augmented, and finally replaced by, regular naval volunteers, the combination of heavy shell fire directed by searchlights at night, currents and prevailing winds severely hampered their activities. On the night of 14 March Lieutenant Commander John Waterlow took command of the trawler minesweeper flotilla, from the boat commanded by Lieutenant Pitts. By this stage each trawler had aboard an officer, a petty officer and a signaller, all naval volunteers. They made a determined effort and managed to reach the Kephez minefield.
Searchlight after searchlight began to open on both sides, and the fire became denser and was delivered from both banks. For the first time I heard shells whistling over my head. Like everybody does I ducked but got over the desire to do that in a very few minutes. I asked the skipper how he liked it, and he said he’d rather be fishing! By the time we got into the minefield the fire was terrific. Both banks blazed incessantly, and with the glare of the searchlights, which never left us for an instant, it was bright as day. A veritable hail of shell fell all around us. It was now that the Royal Naval Reserve Petty Officer proved himself. He had been standing quietly in the wheelhouse, arms folded majestically across his breast above the cork lifebelt, when the two trawlermen at the wheel lost their heads and began to cringe. Lieutenant Pitts sent them below, and the old Petty Officer took over the wheel and steered absolutely unperturbed. A 6-inch shell hit the funnel so close to my head that scraps of paint and smuts covered me. The noise was deafening and made one’s head ache.10
Lieutenant Commander John Waterlow, HMS Blenheim
In these stressful circumstances, the minesweeping process became a hit-or-miss affair, as they worked in pairs about 300–500 yards apart, each dragging a heavy paravane ‘kite’ underwater between which ran a sweep wire designed to cut the mooring cables of the mines. When the mines floated to the surface they were sunk by rifle fire.
It was becoming apparent that over the long winter months since the first naval shots of the campaign in November 1914, the Turks had managed to create a formidable, integrated defence system to guard the Straits. The big guns in the forts attracted most attention, serving to keep the pre-dreadnoughts at long range, but it was the minefield batteries and mobile howitzers that nullified the minesweepers’ efforts. At the heart of the defences were the minefields that threatened carnage if not properly swept and ruled out any attempt to rush the slow-firing forts. Torpedo tubes aiming across the Narrows threatened a further layer of disaster, although the potential threat was far greater than the reality. Finally, the Goeben herself lay in wait, tucked behind the Nagara Point, and ready to pick off any Allied ship that turned the 90-degree corner dictated by the narrow navigational channel. As a battlecruiser she was probably the equal of any of the Allied fleet, save only the Queen Elizabeth – banned by Fisher from entering the Straits – and the Indefatigable, an equally well-armed, but weakly armoured, early British battlecruiser.
With frustration beginning to show at the slow progress, it was decided to launch an attempt to force the Narrows on 18 March 1915. This decision was complicated by the failure of Carden’s health under the manifold stresses of command. He was forced to return home, to be replaced by his second-in-command acting Vice Admiral John de Robeck. The plan was to accelerate the grinding-down of the Turkish defences in controlled stages by telescoping the process into a couple of days, although there was still no intention of attempting a suicidal rush of the Straits. Simple in concept, the idea was to divide the Allied fleet into three lines of ships. The most modern ships were to go first in Line ‘A’: the Queen Elizabeth, Agamemnon, Lord Nelson and Inflexible, with the Prince George and the Triumph guarding their flanks. They were to sail up the Straits and open fire at the forts on either side of the Narrows. Next would come Line ‘B’ made up of the French ships Suffren, Bouvet, Gaulois and the Charlemagne, which would pass through the Straits and press forwards, reducing the range to as close as 8,000 yards. Line ‘C’, made up of the Ocean, Irresistible, Albion, Vengeance, Swiftsure and Majestic, would act as reliefs, replacing damaged ships and allowing the attack to be pressed home without diminution of fire. Minesweeping would commence after a couple of hours, once the Turkish fire had been mastered, and would allow the fleet to close the range still further. The fleet would then withdraw overnight before completing the destruction of the Narrows forts on 19 March prior to finally forcing the Straits. However, this sober-looking plan had not allowed for a splendid piece of initiative by the Turks. The minelayer the Nusrat had stolen out unobserved on 8 March and managed to lay a line of mines, not across the Straits as might have been expected, but parallel to them in the Eren Keui Bay, where Turkish observers had seen the Allied battleships manoeuvring during the previous bombardments.
It must have been an amazing sight as the Allied fleet passed into the Straits at 10.30 on the beautiful sunny morning that was Thursday, 18 March 1915. The sea was full of ships and to the Turkish observers it may have seemed that nothing could withstand such an awesome display of naval might; but the more thoughtful of the British naval officers realised that it would not be easy. Captain Bertram Smith of the Vengeance had tried his best to prepare his gunnery officers for the spotting difficulties he knew they would experience.
The conditions were a contrast to those at sea. There, to some extent at least, the ship is a ship, the sky is sky, and the sea is sea; in fact you either see your target or you do not. Here, when firing at long ranges, as in the Narrows attack, you might be looking at your target yet never distinguish it; it was part of the landscape’s background and in certain lights merged into it. As soon as we knew what our position would be for the attack on the Narrows I roped in the midshipmen and had the landscape of the Narrows projected horizontally from bearings from the chart, and vertically from contours on the map of the peninsula. Suggestions of details were then sketched in their proper places to suit the nature of building, such as a thin inverted ‘V’ as minaret of a mosque, a thin horizontal rectangle for barracks, or, in the case of batteries, a hint of their shape, with details, where known, carefully eliminated, so as to leave a hazy outline in keeping with what we should see. Batteries and prominent features were marked with their numbers or description.11
Captain Bertram Smith, HMS Vengeance
The pre-dreadnoughts might be nearing obsolescence, but they had been the pride of the Royal Navy just ten or so years before and with their menacing turrets they were still formidable-looking weapons of war. The Lord Nelson and Agamemnon, the last of the pre-dreadnoughts built for the Royal Navy, were armed with a potent arsenal of four 12-inch, ten 9.2-inch and twenty-four 12-pounder guns. Midshipman Alfred Langley was on duty in one of the twin 9.2-inch turrets of the Lord Nelson.
The turret that is visible above the deck may be compared with the head of a giant mushroom. Suspended from the floor of the turret a lon
g circular trunk – the mushroom stalk – reaches down to the bottom of the ship into the shell rooms and magazines. Lifts travelling up and down the trunk supply ammunition to the guns. The whole of the turret-trunk structure, weighing hundreds of tons, rests and rotates on a ring of enormous steel rollers carried by the ship. We crawled into the turret through a small hatch in the thick armour plating forming the roof. A confined space dominated by the huge breeches of the two guns met the eye. All around a tangle of machinery and instruments seemed to leave little room for the gun’s crew, but somehow when they had all squeezed into their separate niches the turret did not feel overfull. ‘Free the turret!’ ordered the Lieutenant in charge and, on a great locking bolt being withdrawn, we were free to train in the direction of the enemy.12
Midshipman Alfred Langley, HMS Lord Nelson
As the pre-dreadnoughts glided into the Straits the turret gun crews leapt to their tasks surrounded by the awesome machines that encapsulated many of the most modern technologies of their age. Men and machines operated in synchronised harmony as at about 11.30 the huge ships opened fire on the forts.
An immense clatter now reverberated throughout the metallic enclosure as the gun’s crew tested the machinery. Empty ammunition cages rattled and banged up and down the trunk; the guns rose and fell as the elevating ram slid out and in; breeches swung open and closed with a clang; telephones rang; interlocking gears clicked; telescopic rammers shot out to incredible lengths and collapsed as quickly into an inoffensive silence. Nearly all the machinery was worked hydraulically at a pressure of a thousand pounds to the square inch. In every pipe liquid hissed and surged and occasionally, from a leaky joint, spouted with bullet like velocity into the well below the guns. In a few minutes the deafening din ceased as abruptly as it began. The gear had been tested, found correct, and was reported so to the central control station. ‘Load with lyddite shell!’ In a moment the whole gun’s crew were again alert and active, whilst the deafening clatter recommenced only to die away again within half a minute when the guns were loaded. It was still impossible to fire because the switch completing the electrical firing circuit was not yet made. Another peaceful pause before, ‘All guns to the ready!’ With a snap the switch was made and a low buzzing sound indicated that the circuits were alive. Now everyone was tense and silent. It was not difficult to imagine, lying ready to leap into cataclysmic activity, the huge charge of cordite concealed in the chamber of the gun. Unconsciously one noted that the breech was properly closed, that all men were clear in the rear where the gun would leap in recoil. One wondered if everything was sound. A merely microscopic fault in the great steel barrel might have caused a calamity. The seconds dragged on. Still the soughing from the hydraulic valves and the electrical buzzing were the only sounds inside the turret. The waves breaking against the side of the ship could be plainly heard. Suddenly two rings on the fire gong, ‘Stand by!’ One ring, ‘Fire!’ and with a ‘CR-RR-UMPH!’ the gun would leap back into the turret and start slowly to run out. The air in the gunhouse, suddenly compressed then released by the great mass of the gun, was rent at the same time by the noise of the explosion. Before the reverberations had died away the gun’s crew, with febrile activity, were reloading.13
Midshipman Alfred Langley, HMS Lord Nelson
As the British Line ‘A’ advanced into the Straits it came under a considerable amount of harassing fire from howitzers lurking unseen in the surrounding hills. Regimental Sergeant Major David Hepburn, lent to the navy and in charge of two 6-inch howitzers placed aboard the Prince George, was busy observing the performance of the Turkish batteries.
These howitzers are evidently laid on squares and fired when the ships enter their area – a chart of the water area is marked off in squares, each square having a certain range and direction from the guns. An observer with a similar chart would order the guns to be fired when the target entered the square. These howitzers would undoubtedly do great havoc if more accurately served. The howitzers seem pretty accurate in themselves as three and four shells invariably fall together in quite a small area. The shells have a deafening detonation on bursting; high explosive and well-detonated. The fuses are too sensitive though to my idea, which would greatly help a ship struck by them, as the shell would burst on the upper deck before it could reach the vitals of the ship. All the same I should consider them the Turks’ best weapons. I got hit by a small splinter of high explosive shell which stuck in my temple – went in like a needle. Luckily it was a very small piece or I should not be writing this.14
Regimental Sergeant Major David Hepburn, Royal Garrison Artillery (attached to HMS Prince George)
The rate of fire of the forts would slacken markedly from time to time, promoting hopes that some serious damage had been caused, before resuming seemingly unharmed. At 12.06, de Robeck considered that it was time to order the French Line ‘B’, under Rear Admiral Émile Guépratte, to pass through and close the range. The Gaulois and Charlemagne had moved up on the European flank of Line ‘A’ while the Suffren and Bouvet passed by on the Asiatic side. From high up in the sky Lieutenant L. H. Straw had a wonderful view.
I was nailed to the sky in a bright seaplane over the fleet and forts. The Bouvet and Gaulois far up on the Asiatic side hammering away at close quarters; the Vengeance and two others of ours doing the same on the Gallipoli side. The Queen Elizabeth, Inflexible, Suffren and Agamemnon behind firing over them at the forts up at Chanak and Kilid Bahr and all these forts replying so that the whole water was churned up. Not a single soul to be seen on the decks, just the flash of guns to show that they were alive. Shells falling in the water look like concentric circles of white on the outside merging into deep brown in the centre when seen from straight above. When at an angle you only see the column of water.15
Lieutenant L. H. Straw, HMS Ark Royal
The French ships came under tremendous pressure as the forts burst back into life as they closed to within 9,000 yards. Soon afterwards, when the Suffren was hit by a heavy shell that penetrated through to a magazine, some quick thinking by a young officer proved vital.
In a few minutes the flagship was hit by a large number of heavy shells, one of which caused major damage: a casemate and a turret were knocked out of action and all of their crew killed and incinerated. There was an escape of flame and burning gases into the port magazine and the boiler-room, with fires between decks and the destruction of the port fire control station. The port magazine was flooded to save the ship from the threat of explosion. A sharp turn to port and the forward funnel was blown away. Desiring to salute our brave men, I went straight down. The scene was tragically macabre: the image of desolation, the flames spared nothing. As for our young men, a few minutes ago, so alert, so self-confident, all now lying dead on the bare deck, blackened burnt skeletons, twisted in all directions, no trace of any clothing, the fire having devoured all.16
Rear Admiral Émile Guépratte, Suffren
In the press of battle the gunners had been caught breaking safety rules and, as the flash spread, a cataclysmic explosion threatened.
In these circumstances time was running out for our ship. It was going without doubt to explode with all hands, if a young gunnery officer named François Lannuzel, acting with initiative beyond praise, hadn’t saved the ship by hurriedly ordering the flooding of the magazines. He ran through the smoke to Commander Petit-Thouars saying, ‘I hope I haven’t over reached myself, but seeing that the Suffren was in grave danger of explosion I’ve just flooded the magazine without orders.’17
Rear Admiral Émile Guépratte, Suffren
Of course Lannuzel was the hero of the hour, for he had undoubtedly saved the French flagship and most of her crew from an explosive finale. The British watched the hard pounding with unstinting admiration.
I say, ‘Hats off!’ to the Frenchmen, two of their cruisers now passed up the lines and took up a position ahead of our ships over on the Asiatic side in a direct line with Dardanos Fort close to Chanak. If anyone wen
t over into hell these two French cruisers did. At times it was impossible to see them for the spray that was thrown up by the shells falling all around them – the fort was firing like hell.18
Able Seaman Daniel Cemm, HMS Prince George
This tremendous duel lasted until just before 14.00 when the Bouvet in rapid succession was hit by a heavy shell and then almost immediately ran on to a mine just as the British ships in Line ‘C’ were moving up to relieve the French. Captain Ashir Arkayan watched the results with considerable satisfaction from his Turkish gun battery.
The Bouvet started to withdraw, but at that moment a cloud of red and black smoke arose from under the ship, which may have struck a mine. Immediately after this there was a much more violent explosion. We believed that a shell from Mejidiye had blown up the magazine. The ship heeled over at once and her crew poured into the sea.19
Captain Ashir Arkayan, Artillery, Fifth Army
From the Prince George they had a close-up view of a naval catastrophe. When things go wrong at sea they usually go wrong with a terrifying suddenness.
We saw an immense cloud of black smoke ascending from the Frenchman’s starboard quarter. Almost immediately she began to heel over towards us and gradually, steadily and gracefully, she continued to heel till her masts lay on the water. A second or two in that position, then, just as steadily she continued to heel over till she lay keel uppermost – she was perhaps half a minute in that position then quickly slid under the water. From the time we saw the smoke till she disappeared was barely 3½ minutes. No noise; nothing horrifying in the sight – our imaginations supplied the horror.20