This German deprival of air reconnaissance was matched by a British mishap reminiscent of the Canopus affair. Jellicoe possessed a single carrier with a complement of ten planes and fitted with a flying-off deck. She was a converted 20,000-ton Cunard liner, and was therefore fast, well able to keep up with the fleet. Due to some administrative slip rather than the fantasies of a Commander Denbow, Jellicoe had been informed that the Campania could do only 19 knots rather than her actual 21 1/2 knots. Her anchorage in Scapa Flow was a remote one, and following a further mishap, her captain never received the signal at 8.10 p.m. on 30 May ordering the fleet to leave harbour at 9.30.
The Campania at length weighed two hours late. Jellicoe, ever mindful of the smallest detail in the dispositions of his ships, calculated that at 19 knots she would never arrive in time for her aircraft to be of any use, and at 4.37 a.m. she was ordered to return to Scapa rather than continue unescorted as a U-boat risk. In fact the carrier was rapidly gaining on the battle fleet and would have been with Jellicoe for some three hours before the enemy was sighted.
As the sun rose ahead of these numerous British ships steaming across the North Sea, Admiral Beatty’s Battle Cruiser Fleet was approximately 120 miles east of the Firth of Forth on an almost due easterly heading, cruising at an easy 19 knots. His flag flew, as always, in the Lion, and he had with him the 1st Battle Cruiser Squadron, the ‘Cat Squad’ of three 13.5-inch gunned ships, Princess Royal, Queen Mary, and Tiger, the 2nd Battle Cruiser Squadron of two 12-inch gunned ships, New Zealand and Indefatigable, the 1st, 2nd and 3rd Light Cruiser Squadrons totalling thirteen ships, and twenty-nine destroyers; also the carrier Engadine, ‘no more than a floating hangar’ with three seaplanes in it, the – sum total of aerial contribution to the pending battle.
Beatty was lacking four of his oldest and slowest battle-cruisers, the Australia which was in dockyard hands, and his 3rd Battle Cruiser Squadron, Invincible. Indomitable, and Inflexible. The absence of these ships was offset several times over by four of the five battleships of the 5th Battle Squadron. He had for long coveted and for long been denied these magnificent 15-inch-gunned battleships which were almost as fast (24½ knots) as the ‘I-class’ battle-cruisers, packed double their punch and were immensely stronger. Moreover, they had had the benefit of the, superior facilities for gunnery practice provided for Scapa Flow-based ships to those in the confined area of the Forth and had a first-class squadron commander in Rear-Admiral Hugh Evan-Thomas. By ironic chance, Hood with the 3rd Battle Cruiser Squadron had been ordered to Scapa to provide his gunners with this much needed practice, and Jellicoe had temporarily detached the 15-inch-gunned ships in exchange. As a pointer to Beatty’s hell-for-leather reputation among his flag-officers, Hood himself on hearing the news remarked, ‘I think this is a great mistake. If David has these ships with him, nothing will stop him from taking on the whole German Fleet if he gets the chance.’
Beatty’s orders were to proceed east to a rendezvous with Jellicoe’s combined Grand Fleet at 2 p.m. 31 May 240 miles from Scapa Flow and approximately 90 miles west of the entrance to Skagerrak. But in order to reach this rendezvous he was to take his fleet a further 20 miles, and if he had by that point still had no news of the enemy, was to join Jellicoe.
Jellicoe at dawn was approximately 100 miles cast of Scapa Flow on an easterly heading, his course soon to be altered to south-east-by cast, speed 15 knots, the most economical speed of his destroyers.
With him were the 1st and 4th Battle Squadrons, sixteen battleships in all, Hood’s three battle-cruisers, four armoured cruisers of the 2nd Cruiser Squadron, obsolete and armed with mixed batteries of 6-7.5-, and 9.2-inch guns, commanded by Rear-Admiral Herbert Heath, and the 4th Light Cruiser Squadron.
This force was due to link up with the 2nd Battle Squadron of eight more battleships, commanded by Vice-Admiral Sir Martyn Jerram, at noon. Jerram also had with him the 1st Cruiser Squadron of armoured cruisers, four more big ships which were little better than encumbrances. In command was Rear-Admiral Sir Robert Arbuth not, Bt., a rabid disciplinarian and (not only fix this reason) an unpopular officer, though an extremely able one. Finally, Jerram’s force was screened by eleven destroyers of the most modern 1-class, several of which had exceeded 37 knots on their trials.
At about this time, Hipper had left Heligoland behind on his starboard beam, and was steaming due north, his five battle-cruisers, screened by the 2nd Scouting Group of six light cruisers, and his destroyers. Scheer, some sixty miles behind, had combined his forces from the Elbe and the Jade and was proceeding on an identical course with his sixteen dreadnought and six pre-dreadnought battleships in three squadrons, escorted by the 4th Scouting Group of light cruisers. Nine hours later, at 2 p.m., with the vanguard of both fleets now only 120 miles apart, neither C.-in-C. was any better informed of the whereabouts of the other, or knew for certain that any enemy ships at all were roaming the North Sea. The carefully stationed U-boats had all failed to damage any British ship as they passed through their ‘traps’. Nor had they given to Scheer any clue to the fact that the entire Grand Fleet was at sea and heading in his direction. So far, then, the new weapons, the submarine and aircraft, had either failed in their task or been given no opportunity to exercise their skill. The only positive news Jellicoe had received was the dangerously misleading message from the Admiralty that at just before noon Scheer was still in the Jade. Jellicoe and Scheer were therefore equally ignorant of the singular stroke fate had played them, with the enemy falling unknowingly into a similar trap each side had prepared for the other.
In accordance with his instructions, Beatty ordered a signal to his fleet to alter course to N by E at 2. 15 p.m., at the same time warning Evan-Thomas’s 5th Battle Squadron, which was five miles to the north-west of him, to watch for the vanguard of Jellicoe’s battle fleet with which they were soon to join forces. Five minutes earlier, the Galatea, Alexander-Sinclair’s light cruiser and the easternmost British ship, sighted a stationary Danish merchantman, a modest little vessel blowing off steam as if nervously aware of the formidable forces closing about her. This sighting by a sharp-eyed look-out at a range of twelve miles was made just in time before Beatty’s entire force, driving north, began to distance itself from the unseen enemy.
Hipper, fifty miles to the east of Beatty, and still heading for the Norwegian coast, learned that two of his destroyers had sighted the same suspicious-looking Danish vessel, the catalyst of the imminent battle, had turned to investigate, and ordered her to stop.
The Galatea at full speed, with the Phaeton in company, identified the German men o’war, though incorrectly, and at once signalled, ‘Enemy in sight. Two cruisers probably hostile in sight bearing ESE course unknown.’ Both British cruisers opened fire with their 6-inch guns at 2.28 p.m., and four minutes later as more enemy ships could be made out in the already variable visibility, a German light cruiser returned the fire at 15,000 yards, at once straddling the two British cruisers, and then hitting the Galatea. The shell was a dud: but the Battle of Jutland had been joined. On sighting more smoke to the north-east and east indicating considerable enemy forces. AlexanderSinclair led his two swift cruisers to the north-west to draw the enemy on in order that Beatty’s heavy forces could cut them off from their bases, at the same time performing his primary function of reporting range, bearing, and course of enemy ships as they could be made out.
The second movement was made by Beatty’s battle-cruisers and was precisely matched to that of the two light cruisers. The Galatea’s report of ‘a large amount of smoke as from a fleet bearing ENE at 2.35 p.m. made it clear’, according to Beatty’s report, ‘that the enemy was to the Northward and Eastward, and that it would be impossible for him to round the Horn Reef without being brought to action… ’(1) At 2.32 p.m. Beatty made the general signal by flags to turn SSE, his destroyers taking up position as a submarine screen, and the remainder of his light cruisers spreading out to the easst forming an advance scouting force.
At
2.40 p.m., the battle-cruisers in two columns with the New Zealand leading the Indefatigable three miles to the north-cast of Beatty’s Lion were on a south-easterly course and heading for Horns Reef confident now and for the first time in the war of being able to cut off any enemy vessels to the north. Word spread rapidly throughout the Battle Cruiser Fleet, from the bridge of the Lion to the engine rooms of the racing destroyers, that action was imminent, and that this was to be no fruitless pursuit of a fleeing enemy. After the frustration and failure at Dogger Bank, among Beatty and his Staff there was a rising sense of determination and expectancy that this time they were going ‘to bag the lot’. Certainly Beatty’s heart was high, and the same elation and relief that this was the day of reckoning for which they had been waiting for so long was reflected in all the battle-cruisers. Beatty calculated that Hipper would have six battle-cruisers this time, including the recently complete Hindenburg. Ship for ship, he felt more than equal. But in addition, and by happy chance, he had the 5th Battle Squadron whose guns far outranged the enemy’s and whose combined broadside weight alone was greater.
Unhappily, the same belief that battle would soon be joined did not yet prevail amongst these super-dreadnoughts of the 5th Battle Squadron. Evan-Thomas’s ships were still on a northerly course and heading in the opposite direction to that of the two battle-cruiser squadrons. Once again Beatty’s signalling arrangements had broken down. At 2.25 p.m. the Barham and her consorts, to the north-west of the Lion, were following the turn to the north to join Jellicoe. The signal by flags from the Lion seven minutes later was not taken in by the Barham and the repeated signal to turn by searchlight five minutes later was either not seen or simply not recorded in the Barham’s signal log. More minutes were lost because the Tiger as repeating ship tailed to pass on Beatty’s signal and when it was taken in there was no indication as to when the order was made executive, which is normally when a signal is hauled down. According to the Barham’s captain, Arthur Craig, the flagship was on a SSE course by 2.38, but only ‘in consequence of 1st LCS [Alexander-Sinclair] reporting enemy cruiser SSE at 2.35 p.m.’(2)
By this time the 5th Battle Squadron with its decisive gunnery capability was ten miles from the battle-cruisers and out of their sight. Barham’s speed was 22 knots, with 2½ knots in reserve; the Lion’s speed 19½ knots with 8½ knots in reserve.
Between the time of this crucial signal to turn south-east and 3 p.m., Beatty made several turns to port until he was steering due cast, directed by Alexander-Sinclair who had now succeeded in drawing the distant enemy force to the north-west. The commodore was continuing his brilliant and dangerous work in accordance with the finest traditions of fleet scouting, and drawing Hipper and Beatty together. Then, at 3.35 p.m., Alexander-Sinclair observed the enemy light-cruiser screen suddenly reverse course to the south-east. Ten minutes later he observed the distant flickers of yellow light on the south-eastern horizon which could only mean the firing of’ heavy guns. It was 3.45 p.m., the battle-cruisers were engaged, and there were still at least five hours of’ daylight in which to conclude a successful fleet action.
The German cruiser which had scored that first hit on the Galatea was the Elbing, 4,500 tons, a fine, modern, fast (28 knots) cruiser armed with 5.9-inch guns. With three destroyers in company, she pursued the Galatea and Phaeton to the north-west. Little more than a mile astern of the Elbing raced the 2nd Scouting Group’s flagship, Frankfurt, Rear-Admiral Friedrich Bödicker, and at varying distances the rest of Hipper’s light cruisers and destroyers. The battle-cruisers in line ahead were on the same north-westerly course, to the left of their screen. They were therefore unprotected and without scouting benefit to the west from which any enemy was likely to appear, an inexplicable tactical weakness.
The enemy did appear from the west at 3.20 p.m. when Hipper’s look-outs discerned six grey shapes streaming black smoke hull down at fourteen miles. They were at once presumed to be Beatty’s battle-cruisers although at first no details of their funnels or rig could be made out. They appeared to be in two groups, two ships leading four more, steering north-west on a south-west bearing and coming straight towards them. Evan-Thomas’s squadron was not yet in sight, but the presence of Beatty’s battle-cruisers alone was sufficient to cause Hipper to cut short his drive north, turn without more ado, and hope to draw his adversary onto Scheer’s battle squadrons. With his own speed at its maximum of 26 knots, and Scheer’s at 15 knots, it should be no more than an hour before the overwhelming gun power of the High Seas Fleet would reinforce the battle-cruisers and the long-planned trap be sprung.
At 3.28, then, the five German battle-cruisers swung through 180 degrees in succession, just as the Japanese Admiral Togo had boldly reversed the course of his battle fleet at Tsu-Shima against the Russians in 1905. Hipper, however, was still safely out of range as the last of his ships, the von der Tann, completed her turn at 3.33 p.m. and the Lützow led the Group south.
In the fore-top of the second in line, the Derfflinger, the chief gunnery officer, Georg von Hase, still had not learned that the British Battle Cruiser Fleet in its full strength was closing in on them. He believed that they had sighted only light enemy forces. ‘Suddenly my periscope revealed some big ships. Black monsters; six tall, broad beamed giants steaming in two columns’, he wrote of this moment (3.35 p.m.). Then he watched Beatty turn south-east on a converging course with his own battle line. ‘Heavy guns armour-piercing shell!’ van Hase ordered. ‘Direction on second battle-cruiser from left [Princess Royal] 102 degrees! Ship making 26 knots, course ESE! 17,000! Our target has two masts and two funnels, as well as a narrow funnel close to the foremast! Deflection 19 left! Rate 100 minus! 16,400! Still no permission to open fire from the flagship!’(3)
The order came a few minutes later. Although visibility conditions were favourable, with the bright afternoon light behind the British, and Hipper was 4,000 yards inside the maximum range of his 11-inch guns, all the German ships overestimated the range, the first salvoes falling on the far side of the British line. With the range already closing, and the first sparkles of fire rippling along the line of six British ships as they returned the fire, the Derfflinger’s next salvo was an ‘over’ too. And the next. It was four minutes before this crack gunnery ship recorded a straddle on the Princess Royal.
‘I explain the serious error of calculation as follows’, wrote von Hase. ‘The B.g. men [Basis Gerät, or range-finder operators] were completely overwhelmed by the first view of the enemy monsters. Each one saw the enemy ship magnified twenty-three times in his instrument! Their minds were at first concentrated on the appearance of the enemy.’(4) So, for all the years of training and practice, for all the optical and mechanical skills lavished on the instruments of these modern miracles of war, the sight of the enemy proved too much, and many rounds from all the German ships were wasted before the German guns began to find the range.
A few seconds after 3.52 p.m., von Hasc ordered ‘Gut schnell Wirkung’, which meant the 12-inch main batteries were to fire in salvoes every twenty seconds, with the secondary 5.9s, now within range, firing two salvoes in rapid succession in the intervals.
‘Then began an ear-splitting, stupefying din. Including the secondary armament we were firing on an average one mighty salvo every seven seconds… Dense masses of smoke accumulated round the muzzles of the guns, growing into clouds as high as houses, which stood for seconds in front of us like an impenetrable wall and were then driven by the wind and the weigh over the ship. In this way we often could see nothing of the enemy for seconds at a time as our fore-top was completely enveloped in thick smoke.’(5)
Finding that the ‘splashes’ from the two calibres of guns were confusing him – the first reason for the introduction of the all-big-gun dreadnought – von Hase ordered the secondary guns to cease fire. This reduced the visibility problem at once, and the Derfflinger settled down to a steadier rate of fire in the much improved visibility, with the range closing, and with the additional advantage tha
t no fountains of water, a hundred feet high and surrounded by spray, interrupted the view of the enemy through range-finder or periscope. For some mysterious reason, not one of the more numerous British battlecruisers was firing at the German second in line.
Beatty might bless that little Danish steamer for bringing him into contact at last with his adversary. And he was gratified that he had caught him so far from his base and with no chance of falling back onto it without a battle. But already it was evident that a delayed meeting, when Jellicoe would have been nearer and Hipper closer to the Norwegian coast, would have been much more advantageous, and might well have allowed Beatty to get round to the east of the German battle-cruisers. Now, from the very outset, he had lost one of his greatest advantages, his longer-ranging guns. A situation that Hipper had always feared most was the one in which he was outranged and helpless to reply, as von Spee had been at the Falkland Islands. On this last afternoon of May, North Sea weather saved him. Beatty’s biographer, who was on the Lion’s bridge at the time, described conditions as ‘one of those typical North Sea summer days with a thin white mist varying in intensity and having too much humidity for the sun to break up.’(6)
The German ships were diffuse grey shapes against a dark background, the British line etched clear against the afternoon sky. In reverse positions, Beatty could have opened fire at 23,000 yards and held that range at which Hipper could not have replied. On the Lion’s bridge the range-receiver showed 20,000 yards and rapidly closing at 3.40 p.m., speed 25 knots. The flag-captain, Ernie Chatfield, was on the compass platform with his navigator, Commander the Hon. Arthur Strutt, and the chief gunnery officer, Gerald Longhurst, and his Staff. Beatty was on his own bridge below with his secretary and Stair and the unfortunate flag-lieutenant, Ralph Seymour. ‘I wanted Beatty to come on the compass platform,’ wrote Chatfield, ‘and sent a message to Seymour, telling him to advise Beatty that the range was closing rapidly and that we ought almost at once to be opening fire.
The Great War at Sea: 1914-1918 Page 29