The Great War at Sea: 1914-1918

by Richard Hough

  Those who landed in Normandy with such relatively few casualties in 1944 owed their lives in part to those who fell on the beaches of Gallipoli.

  The naval contribution was limited to an auxiliary level as soon as the Army arrived in strength. But before then Churchill refused to be dismayed by the disasters of 18 March. ‘I regarded it as only the first of several days’ fighting,’ he testified, ‘though the loss in ships sunk or disabled was unpleasant. It never occurred to me for a moment that we should not go on.’(38) With this in view, he sent out more old battleships and more encouraging telegrams to De Robeck. For a while the Admiral played along with his chief and gave signs that a new attack would soon be launched. Then on the morning of 22 March he appeared after all to have tamely accepted defeat. There was a conference on board the Queen Elizabeth attended by both military and naval commanders. The recently appointed Army General, Sir Ian Hamilton, recorded in his diary: ‘The moment we sat down De Robeck told us he was now quite clear he could not get through without the help of all my troops.’

  On the following day De Robeck sent a long telegram of explanation and justification to the Admiralty, referring to the mine menace and the numerous guns ‘not more than a small proportion [of which] can be put out of action by gunfire’. It could have been a Staff contingency report prepared a month earlier showing why the first naval attack should not take place. He proposed now to wait until 14 April, when Hamilton had told him the Army would be ready, and then conduct a combined assault. Nor would the Admiral, in the teeth of the most strenuous opposition from Churchill, change his mind. On 24 March Churchill telegraphed a final entreaty – ‘the forts are short of ammunition’, ‘it is probable they have not got many mines’. The message could not be an order because, ‘for the first time since the war began,’ as Churchill himself described the occasion, ‘high words were used’,(39) and he was opposed by Oliver, Wilson, Jackson, and Fisher when he proposed to make his telegram a demand rather than a plea. In spite of this near-unanimity of opposition (Churchill’s secretary, Charles Bartolomé, stuck by his chief), the telegram when it was sent made no reference to the opposition of his confederates. But the response from De Robeck was still as if he had been deafened by the cacophony of that last bombardment. The Straits remained silent, while the Germans reorganized and strengthened many times over the defences, and the Turks poured in more troops and hundreds more guns from the Austrian Skoda works.

  If ever clear-cut evidence were needed that underwater weaponry now dominated sea warfare and that the big gun was only of secondary importance, the naval opening of the Dardanelles campaign provides it. The Straits were already littered with the wrecks of men o’war sunk by a few cheap mines. Ashore, the forts and batteries were virtually intact. And now a single torpedo explosion was to lead to the fall of both Fisher and Churchill.

  Fisher always subsequently claimed that he had supported the Dardanelles naval operations at the outset with reluctance and in order not to disturb the unanimity governing the conduct of Admiralty affairs. During February and March he observed with growing disquiet the draining of naval strength from home waters ‘the vital area.’ ‘To dispatch any more fighting ships of any kind to the Dardanelles operations’, he told Churchill (31 March 1915) ‘would be to court serious losses at home.’(40)” In this view he was of course solidly backed by Jellicoe and Beatty, and, with increasing vehemence, by all the Sea Fords.

  Fisher was convinced that large-scale action in the North Sea was imminent. It was known during March that severe pressure was being imposed on Holland to declare war on Germany’s side, and that if this happened the High Seas Fleet was certain to make a demonstration. Meanwhile, Churchill had ‘collared’ sixteen battleships, twenty-four destroyers, the only seaplane carrier, and countless auxiliary craft. The one-way stream was still flowing to swell the numbers, which included Jellicoe’s best battleship, a sorely needed battle-cruiser (hors de combat from a mine) and the two best pre-dreadnoughts.

  Fisher and the Sea Fords were feeling more strongly than ever that they were no longer taking any part in naval affairs. Fisher’s predecessor had been nicknamed Prince ‘I concur’ Battenberg. And now the time for concurrence had passed. By 9 May, the Army which had landed on the beaches of Gallipoli in strength on 25 April was completely deadlocked. Churchill started to raise again the now discredited notion of a Navy-only operation – not of course on the previous scale, ‘a limited operation’ as he defined it. But Fisher knew that if there was even a partial success, it would rapidly grow to a size beyond control. Meanwhile the warships all remained at risk, and U-boats were reported to be on the way. Then on the night of 11-12 May a German-manned Turkish destroyer succeeded in sending a torpedo into the battleship Goliath. It sank instantly with the loss of 570 lives. It could as easily have been the Queen Elizabeth. The following day, Fisher insisted that this super-dreadnought be brought home. Churchill was forced to agree but insisted upon her replacement with two pre-dreadnought battleships and two monitors.

  When Kitchener learned at a conference that this great battleship, with its dominant silhouette and unmatched power, which from the beginning had symbolized the Navy’s participation in the operations, was to be withdrawn, he called it a ‘desertion’ and expressed great unhappiness. Fisher then stood up, exuding all the pent-up resentment and frustration he had suffered over many weeks, and said excitedly that if the battleship did not come home that night at full speed he would resign instantly. He got his way.

  The next day, 14 May, at a meeting of the War Council, the need for further naval reinforcements for the Dardanelles was discussed. Fisher was appalled. Monitors, shallow landing craft, all the matériel he had been authorized to build for his Baltic project were being sucked into the bottomless pit of the Dardanelles. Everyone present at that meeting described the mood as gloomy and totally pessimistic. A new offensive on the Western Front was already faltering. The shell shortage was critical, and what was worse, The Times had that day exposed the scandal it had started.

  That evening Fisher went to bed with the new agreed figures for naval reinforcements engraved on his mind. While he slept, Churchill was busy with new calculations, and before dawn had completed an extensive memorandum demanding additional ships, aircraft, guns, and other matériel: nine new heavy monitors in all, two out of five of the newest submarines being delivered to the Navy, and the latest seaplanes. The memorandum was couched in the peremptory tone of a C.-in-C. to a junior captain which had become so depressingly familiar to all members of the Board. This time it was to prove his undoing. ‘They cannot both run the show’, Beatty had said.

  Fisher received the memorandum at his usual early hour of awakening, and his outrage knew no bounds. Churchill later wrote in his memoirs of this moment, ‘The old Admiral, waking in the early morning, saw himself confronted again with the minutes proposing the reinforcements…’(41) This was untrue, and Churchill knew it. These were additional reinforcements. It was in order to conceal from his readers the fact that the figures had been greatly increased overnight that Churchill wrote ‘again’.

  Considering the pressure under which he was suffering and the natural volatility of his temperament, Fisher’s reply was mild as well as firm. He was leaving his partner and one-time friend. ‘After further anxious reflection I have come to the regretted conclusion I am unable to remain any longer as your colleague… I find it increasingly difficult to adjust myself to the increasing daily requirements of the Dardanelles to meet your views… This is not fair to you besides being extremely distasteful to me…’

  Fisher had threatened to resign eight times already in 1915 Churchill took as little notice of this note as earlier threats. But Fisher was not to be found at the Admiralty that morning, and Churchill, increasingly alarmed, could get no answer from his house. Fisher was at the Treasury telling Lloyd George of his decision. Lloyd George thought he meant it this time, unlike Asquith who commented, ‘Fisher’s always resigning.’

 
Churchill wrote a long letter of appeal, knowing that his own future was at stake.

  Admiralty. Whitehall

  May 15th 1915

  Private and Confidential

  My dear Fisher.

  The only thing to think of now is what is best for the country and for the brave men who are fighting. Anything which does injury to those interests will be very harshly judged by history. on whose stage we now are.

  I do not understand what is the specific cause which had led you to resign. If I did, I might cure it. When we parted last night I thought we were in agreement. The proposals I made to you by minute were, I thought, in general accord with your views, and in any case were for discussion between us. Our personal friendship is and I trust will remain unimpaired.

  It is true the moment is anxious and our difficulties grave. But I am sure that with loyalty and courage we shall come through safely and successfully. You could not let it be said that you had thrown me over because things were for the time being going badly at the Dardanelles.

  In every way I have tried to work in the closest sympathy with you. The men you wanted in the places you wanted them, the ships you designed, every proposal you have formally made for naval action. I have agreed to. My own responsibilities are great, and also I am the one who gets the blame for anything that goes wrong. But I have scrupulously adhered to our original agreement that we should do nothing important without consulting each other. If you think this is not so, surely you should tell me in what respect.

  In order to bring you back to the Admiralty I took my political life in my hands with the King and the Prime Minister, as you know well. You then promised to stand by me and see me through. If you now go at this had moment and thereby let loose upon me the spite and malice of those who are your enemies even more than they are mine, it will be a melancholy ending to our six months of successful war and administration. The discussions which will arise will strike a cruel blow at the fortunes of the Army now struggling on the Gallipoli Peninsula, and cannot fail to invest with an air of disaster a mighty enterprise, which, with patience, can and will certainly be carried to success.

  Many of the anxieties of the winter arc past – the harbours arc protected, the great flow of new construction is arriving. We are far stronger at home than we have ever been, and the great reinforcement is now at hand.

  I hope you will come to see me tomorrow afternoon. I have a proposition to make to you. with the assent of the Prime Minister, which may resolve some of the’ anxieties and difficulties which you feel about the measures necessary to support the Army at the Dardanelles.

  Though I shall stand to my post until relieved, it will be a very great grief to me to part from you; and our rupture will he profoundly injurious to every public interest.

  Yours ever,

  W.(42)

  Fisher’s whereabouts remained a mystery until a messenger succeeded in tracking him down to a private room at the Charing Cross Hotel. The messenger delivered an order from Asquith that in the King’s name he must remain at his post. As the news filtered through the corridors of Whitehall and the royal palaces, the appeals for him to stay fell about Fisher. ‘Stick to your Post like Nelson!’ wrote Queen Alexandra: ‘The Nation and we all have such full confidence in you and I and they will not suffer you to go. You are the Nation’s hope and we trust you!’(43) Jellicoe telegraphed, ‘I would far sooner lose some ships than see you leave the Admiralty.’(44) Beatty followed with another agonized appeal: ‘If it is of any value to you to know it, the Fleet is numbed with the thought of the possibility. Please God it is NOT possible for we absolutely refuse to believe it.’(45)

  Churchill wrote a further long letter of appeal the next day, pointing to the effects his resignation would have on the whole Dardanelles venture, encouraging the enemy and perhaps leading to Italy (‘trembling on the brink’) to draw back from joining the Allies. Fisher was offered a seat in the Cabinet if he would withdraw his resignation – ‘I rejected the 30 pieces of silver to betray my country’, he responded.

  Fleet Street soon had wind of what was up. ‘LORD FISHER MUST NOT GO’ headlined the Globe: ‘Lord Fisher or Mr Churchill?’ began their main story. ‘Expert or amateur?’: The Times wanted Fisher to replace Churchill as First Lord. The stories brought a new flood of appeals to him to stay. Asquith’s political framework was cracking from pressures from all sides. The Conservative Press was after him almost as fiercely as after Churchill. On 17 May Asquith decided that the only way to survive was by forming a coalition.

  Fisher, for all his vanity, was surprised at the outcry and the strength of the appeals he had caused. Among the numerous letters he received was one from his old friend and admirer, Lord Esher, whose influence in affairs was still very powerful: ‘My dear, dear Jackie.’ it began, ‘You will never permanentlv paper up these quarrels. The only thing to be done is to revive the office of Lord High Admiral and take it yourself: Otherwise we are beaten presently at sea.’(46) This was the only communication that shook Fisher’s resolve. ‘Lord High Admiral’ had the right ring. And if the Conservatives came into the Government, Churchill stood no chance of survival after all the attacks he had suffered and with his enterprise at Gallipoli in a shambles.

  In too great haste and guided by vain gloriousness and too little judgement, Fisher drew up a document which he despatched precipitately to Asquith. He would withdraw his resignation, he wrote, if it was agreed that Churchill would be dismissed and ‘is not in the Cabinet’; that he could have ‘an entirely new Board of Admiralty’; that Churchill’s successor ‘should he absolutely restricted to policy and parliamentary procedure’; that ‘I should have the sole absolute authority for all new construction’ and ‘complete professional charge of the war at sea… ‘(47)

  Everything was wrong with this document, most especially its timing. While the crisis raged in Whitehall, Room 40 at the Admiralty was busy decoding German intercepts which strongly suggested that the High Seas Fleet was coming out. Fisher, alternately plotting and sulking in his room, evinced little interest when he heard. He was no longer needed, he told those who informed him. A decisive sea battle, a new Trafalgar, appeared imminent, and Jacky Fisher, still the supreme commander, refused to participate!

  When this word of Fisher’s dereliction of duty got about in the Admiralty and through the higher echelons of Whitehall, there was an instant reversal of feeling about the old Admiral. Asquith thought he ought to be shot. The King, who had predicted trouble from the start, was outraged: he should be court-martialled and hanged. The closest of his friends thought he had temporarily lost his reason under stress, and for his own sake, the sooner he went away the better. His enemies regarded his behaviour as characteristic. A great many people simply thought he had gone mad. He was, without doubt, temporarily unhinged.

  Fisher’s resignation had still not been accepted when he left for Scotland by train on 22 May. The acceptance caught him up by telegraph at Crewe junction. The uproar and outrage he had created no longer sounded sweet in his ears, and he wanted peace and privacy ‘absolutely out of reach of interviews and snapshotters!’ He acquired both at Dungavel in Lanarkshire, the horne of the Duke and Duchess of Hamilton. The Duke had for long been an invalid, the Duchess had been Fisher’s closest woman friend for over six years.

  By this time the pressure on Churchill had become too strong, and he was forced to resign. In spite of all his fears, he thought he might survive. When the blow fell it left, according to his private secretary, Eddie Marsh, ‘a horrible wound and mutilation… it’s like Beethoven deaf. For a man who savoured power with so much relish, it was a bitter time. As always, he was wonderfully supported by his wife, and the encouragement of his friends. J. L. Garvin, alone among newspaper editors, afforded him some consolation. ‘He is young,’ he wrote in the Observer, ‘he has lion-hearted courage. No number of enemies can fight down his ability and force. His hour of triumph will come.’

  Churchill, who described his situation as experien
cing ‘the austerity of changing fortune’, was observed by the Prime Minister’s daughter, Cynthia. ‘He looks unhappy but is very dignified and un-bitter. I have never liked him so much. Clemmie said she had always known it would happen from the day Fisher was appointed, and Winston said that, if he could do things over again, he would do just the same with regard to appointing Fisher as he says he has done really great organising work. ‘(48)

  The Navy was thankful to sec the back of the First Ford. Jellicoe said that he had for a long time ‘thoroughly distrusted Mr Churchill’. Beatty spoke for the Grand Fleet when he wrote to his wife, The Navy breathes freer now it is rid of the succubus Churchill’. There was little comfort for Churchill in the public utterances of Fleet Street with the single exception of Garvin.

  The cause of fair judgement is not served by regarding Churchill’s first term at the Admiralty as a mere shadow of his later achievements or their preface. It must be seen in the context of the times, unrelated to the period 1940-45. It was good for the Navy and the country that he should have been appointed First Lord in 1912. He brought with him into the Admiralty a breath of fresh air, and his presence with his enthusiasm, drive, eagerness, and transparent relish in his work and love of the Navy, inspired many more officers than those to whom his overbearing and tactless style gave offence. It needed a dominant and ruthless figure to battle through the Fisher-Wilson defences against the formation of a War Staff. While he succumbed all too swiftly to the Navy’s obsession with the dreadnought, the big gun, and the offensive spirit, to the neglect of ‘back-up’ in the shape of properly protected bases, mines and torpedoes, the material benefits introduced during his time and the numerous reforms proved valuable. Far more valuable was the quality of youthful zest and joy which he brought to the Admiralty, and, by virtue of his unsurpassed power to inspire those about him, spread throughout the Navy, blowing away the last of the Victorian cobwebs. Churchill was responsible for a process of reform and improvement of spirit that complemented and rounded off Fisher’s administrative and matériel reforms of 1904-10, and was equally valuable. There is no question that the Navy was a service of higher quality in every department in 1914 than in 1894. The achievement was less visibly spectacular than the parallel achievement of Germany’s creation of a great fleet from scratch, but it was at least as great in its own way and it was to save the nation from defeat.