The Great War

by Peter Hart

  One consequence of the relative success of the Brusilov Offensive was to convince Rumania that now was the time to join the Entente Allies. Bordered by Russia, Austria-Hungary, Serbia and Bulgaria, she had the misfortune to be weaker than any of them. The Rumanian Army had not yet recovered from the drubbing it had received in the debacle of the Balkan Wars; nor had it undergone a programme of much-needed modernisation. Many members of the Rumanian royal family and politicians were overtly pro-German, but the country’s best opportunities for profitable national expansion all seemed to involve the break-up of the Austro-Hungarian Empire. The British had already promised Rumania the acquisition of Transylvania if it joined the Allies and the Russian successes in the summer of 1916 meant that it was now or never. The Rumanians were well aware that once the Russians occupied the provinces of Bukovina and Transylvania they would never voluntarily relinquish them; these provinces were therefore the price demanded by the Rumanians for joining the war on the side of the Allies. The Russians were naturally dubious, doubting the worth of the Rumanian Army, but the political advantages of another ally seemed to outweigh the disadvantages. Thus it was that Rumania declared war on Austria-Hungary on 27 August 1916 and promptly invaded Transylvania via the passes through the Carpathians and Transylvanian Alps. It would prove a momentous decision, but not quite in the way that the Rumanians had hoped.

  Newly installed as the German Chief of Staff, Hindenburg reacted immediately. He used the unified command established in the Eastern Front (now handed over to Field Marshal Prince Leopold of Bavaria) to good effect. Two armies were swiftly established from disparate elements of German, Austrian, Bulgarian and Turkish units: one, the Army of the Danube, was to be commanded by the ubiquitous Mackensen and would invade Rumania from their Bulgarian frontier in the south in early September; the other, the German Ninth Army, would first rebuff the Rumanian invasion of Transylvania, then invade Rumania from the west. This would be led by none other than Falkenhayn himself, eager to repair his reputation on the field of battle. It soon became clear that the Rumanian armies would be incapable of prolonged resistance. Even the wide waters of the Danube could not stop Mackensen, while Falkenhayn eventually burst through the deep passes of the Transylvanian Alps in mid-November. By now the hapless Rumanians were in a state of collapse and there was nothing their new allies could do to help them. On 6 December, Mackensen entered Bucharest in triumph and the Rumanians were forced to acknowledge defeat. The Ploiesti oil fields, thirty-five miles north of the capital, were also over-run and, despite the Allies’ dramatic attempts at sabotage by firing the wells, they would prove an invaluable prize to the oil-starved Central Powers. Over the next year the Germans would ravage Rumania for much-needed supplies of oil, grain, farm animals and wood, succeeding to an extent in defraying the inconveniences of the British blockade in the North Sea. All told, the Rumanian interlude had been a disaster for the Allies and a morale-boosting victory with very tangible rewards for the Central Powers.

  11

  THE SEA WAR, 1916

  ‘This time perhaps, “Der Tag” as we also called it had dawned at last. That evening the thrill was immensely multiplied, for everybody seemed to have a premonition that the day had really arrived. There was an almost electric atmosphere of expectation and suppressed excitement as officers and men went about the work of preparing for sea.’1

  Midshipman John Croome, HMS Indomitable, 3rd Battlecruiser Squadron

  IN JANUARY 1916 THE COMPLEXION OF THE NAVAL WAR changed with the replacement of the ineffectual Admiral Hugo von der Pohl as commander of the German High Seas Fleet by the far more dynamic Admiral Reinhard Scheer. The fleet had spent most of 1915 in harbour maintaining its status as a ‘fleet in being’ not to be risked in action, while the U-boats had been withdrawn from the Atlantic and English Channel. This had allowed the Royal Navy to exert an almost unchallenged domination of the oceans. On taking over, Scheer was determined to find a fit and proper role for the High Seas Fleet. But he faced a considerable distraction early on when, in February 1916, it was decided to resume the U-boat campaign in the war zone around Britain. This meant that attacks were allowed without warning within the zone, but not of unarmed merchant ships outside of the zone, and no attacks on passenger liners anywhere at all. This was far too complicated for U-boat commanders to follow under circumstances of great stress and confusion. Errors of judgement were predictable and, on 24 March 1916, the French ferry steamer Sussex was mistaken for a minelayer and torpedoed by the UB-29 coastal submarine in the English Channel. Although she did not sink, several of the passengers injured in the attack were American and once again there was a storm of protest from across the Atlantic. In April American President Woodrow Wilson fired his own shot across the bows of the U-boats.

  I have deemed it my duty, therefore, to say to the Imperial German Government that if it is still its purpose to prosecute relentless and indiscriminate warfare against vessels of commerce by the use of submarines, notwithstanding the now demonstrated impossibility of conducting that warfare in accordance with what the Government of the United States must consider the sacred and indisputable rules of international law and the universally recognized dictates of humanity, the Government of the United States is at last forced to the conclusion that there is but one course it can pursue; and that unless the Imperial German Government should now immediately declare and effect an abandonment of its present methods of warfare against passenger and freight carrying vessels this Government can have no choice but to sever diplomatic relations with the Government of the German Empire altogether.2

  President Woodrow Wilson

  Unwilling to risk war with America, the German government gave way without demur and the U-boats were meekly ordered to follow all the stipulations of international law. But this rendered the U-boats themselves far too vulnerable and they were withdrawn to port.

  This setback nevertheless provided Scheer with the opportunity to use his otherwise idle submarines as an integral part in his plans to reinvigorate the naval war against Britain. He was no longer prepared to allow the Grand Fleet to exercise all the benefits of naval supremacy without ever having that put to the test.

  England’s purpose of strangling Germany economically without seriously exposing her own fleet to the German guns had to be defeated. This offensive effort on our part was intensified by the fact that the prohibition of the U-Boat trade war made it impossible for us to aim a direct blow at England’s vital nerve. We were therefore bound to try and prove by all possible means that Germany’s High Seas Fleet was able and willing to wage war with England at sea.3

  Admiral Reinhard Scheer, SMS Friedrich der Grosse

  His methods of achieving this demanded the deployment of every possible German naval resource in leading the Grand Fleet into a trap in which a significant element of the fleet could be destroyed, thereby allowing a serious challenge by the High Seas Fleet on more equal terms. In practice this meant drawing the main fleet into a submarine or mine trap and/or cutting off and defeating in detail the Battlecruiser Force under the command of Admiral Sir David Beatty. Scheer raised the tempo by resuming sweeps into the North Sea and bombarding both Lowestoft and Yarmouth on 25 April. This increased activity did not escape the attention of Jellicoe, who was none the less determined to maintain his unromantic, but effective, domination of the seas. While his ships successfully effected an economic blockade on Germany, British trade was continuing relatively unhampered, the lines of communication of British land forces were not being seriously threatened and there was no chance of a successful German invasion of Britain. Jellicoe kept the bulk of the Grand Fleet safely tucked away at Scapa Flow, although he had begun to think of ways of provoking a clash with the High Seas Fleet on favourable terms.

  By mid-1916 Jellicoe had received a very welcome reinforcement in the Fifth Battle Squadron, composed of the Queen Elizabeth class super-dreadnoughts. These behemoths were a portent of the future, the gradual fusion of the dreadnought and battl
ecruiser concepts to create mighty battleships that boasted a displacement of 27,500 tons, with eight 15-inch guns that could fire a 1,920-pound shell accurately up to about 24,000 yards, protected by armour up to 13 inches thick and propelled by huge oil-fired turbine engines that gave them a speed of nearly 24 knots. When it was decided to address the proven inadequacies in the gunnery standards achieved by the Battlecruiser Force by sending squadrons one at a time to practise in the open spaces of Scapa Flow, the Fifth Battle Squadron was the obvious temporary replacement.

  The Battle of Jutland

  By May 1916 both sides were planning aggressive operations: Jellicoe was intent on entrapping the High Seas Fleet, while Scheer was trying to force a mistake from his cautious opponent. In the end it would be Scheer who triggered the Battle of Jutland by launching a sweep into the Skagerrak, south-east of Norway, to prey on any British light forces there, with the aim of entrapping Beatty and pulling Jellicoe out into a submarine ambush. But, helped by the remarkable work of the intelligence specialists of Room 40 in decoding German wireless signals, Jellicoe was forewarned that Scheer was about to sail; indeed, the Grand Fleet left Scapa Flow late on 30 May before the High Seas Fleet had even put to sea. It was an amazing sight as the mighty dreadnoughts emerged, their very names embodying an enduring naval tradition that stretched back across three centuries. Young Midshipman John Croome watched in awe from the Indomitable, which with the rest of 3rd Battlecruiser Squadron had been practising its gunnery at Scapa Flow.

  The grey monsters wheeled in succession and silent majesty which marks the departure to sea of a perfectly trained fleet. Finally as the last of the long line passed us, we in turn began to swing, weighed the last few links of cable and stole stealthily away in the wake of the Grand Fleet. A more powerful exhibition of majestic strength and efficiency devised solely for the utter destruction of the enemy it would be hard to imagine and the impression upon my youthful mind can never be erased. Moreover, I was proudly conscious that I was part of this huge machine and firmly convinced that the machine was invincible, if not even invulnerable.4

  Midshipman John Croome, HMS Indomitable, 3rd Battlecruiser Squadron

  They were steaming into a trap. The Germans had eighteen U-boats waiting outside their bases. Yet Scheer would suffer an early disappointment when his submarine ambush and the associated newly laid minefields failed to have any impact whatsoever. The oceans were large and the compact formation of the Grand Fleet passed by unobserved and unscathed.

  Jellicoe had arranged a rendezvous with Beatty and the Battlecruiser Force some ninety miles from the Skagerrak at 14.00 on 31 May. The whole situation was then confused when the intelligence from Room 40 was misinterpreted by Admiralty staff and both Jellicoe and Beatty were erroneously informed at 12.30 that the High Seas Fleet was not at sea after all. This would have considerable repercussions. The result was that the two fleets were drawing ever closer to each other, but neither had any idea that their opponents were at sea. In fact the light forces made only accidental contact when both sides went to investigate a harmless merchant ship that happened to be sailing between the fleets. Once cleared for action, firing between the cruisers began at 14.28 on 31 May 1916. The Battle of Jutland had begun.

  Hipper’s battlecruisers fell back to the south, intending to draw Beatty on to Scheer’s unseen High Seas Fleet. However, as Beatty ordered the pursuit, he utterly failed to concentrate his forces, allowing a 10-mile gap to open between the 1st and 2nd Battlecruiser Squadrons and the Fifth Battle Squadron This was a two-stage process: first, his original dispositions had placed the super-dreadnoughts some five miles behind his flagship the Lion, but then this was exacerbated by a further confusion over signalling protocol. Not for the first time, Beatty and his staff would betray their poor understanding of modern communication methods and the necessity for tight command and control in battle.

  As the range closed between the opposing battlecruisers there was considerable tension before fire was finally opened between the battlecruisers at 15.48. Right from the start, the German gunnery was disconcertingly accurate and it was not long before it drew blood. The Lion was badly hit when at 16.00 a 12-inch shell crashed on to the ‘Q’ turret, causing a fire that, had the magazine not eventually been flooded, would surely have doomed the ship. At the back of the line the Indefatigable was not so lucky when 11-inch shells from the Von der Tann crashed home triggering a vast explosion that killed all but two of the ship’s company of 1,019 men. Then, at about 16.21, there was a huge explosion as the Queen Mary was hit by shells from the Seydlitz and Derfflinger.

  Everything in the ship went as quiet as a church, the floor of the turret was bulged up and the guns were absolutely useless. I must mention here that there was not a sign of excitement. One man turned to me and said, ‘What do you think has happened?’ I said, ‘Steady, everyone, I will speak to Mr Ewart.’ I went back to the cabinet and said, ‘What do you think has happened, Sir?’ He said, ‘God only knows!’ ‘Well, Sir,’ I said, ‘it’s no use keeping them all down here, why not send them up round the 4” guns and give them a chance to fight it out.’ I put my head through the hole in the roof of the turret and I nearly fell through again. The after 4” Battery was smashed right out of all recognition and then I noticed that the ship had an awful list to port. I dropped back inside and told Lieutenant Ewart the state of affairs. He said, ‘Francis, we can do no more than give them a chance, clear the turret.’ ‘Clear the turret!’ I called out and out they went. Lieutenant Ewart was following me; suddenly he stopped and went back into the turret. I believe he went back because he thought there was someone left inside. When I got to the ship’s side there seemed to be a fair crowd and they did not appear to be very anxious to take to the water. I called out to them, ‘Come on, you chaps, who’s coming for a swim?’ Someone answered, ‘She will float for a long time yet!’ But something, I don’t pretend to understand what it was, seemed to be urging me to get away, so I clambered up over the slimy bilge keel and fell off into the water, followed I should think by about five more men.5

  Petty Officer Ernest Francis, HMS Queen Mary, 1st Battlecruiser Squadron

  A few seconds later the Queen Mary was blown to pieces, killing 1,266 of her crew. Beatty, however, was unmoved, as witnessed by his Flag Captain, Alfred Chatfield.

  I was standing beside Sir David Beatty and we both turned round in time to see the unpleasant spectacle. The thought of my friends in her flashed through my mind; I thought also how lucky we had evidently been in the Lion. Beatty turned to me and said, ‘There seems to be something wrong with our bloody ships today!’ A remark that needed neither comment nor answer. There was something wrong.6

  Flag Captain Alfred Chatfield, HMS Lion, 1st Battlecruiser Squadron

  It was simple: the armour of the British battlecruisers was not thick enough to withstand the shells of their German equivalents. And, once a shell had penetrated their armour, the inadequate anti-flash precautions coupled with dangerous working practices intended to improve the rate of fire meant that a flash could rip from the working chambers down into the magazine below, with disastrous consequences. No ship could survive such an explosion. This second disaster left Beatty badly outnumbered, although the Fifth Battle Squadron had at last, by cutting corners, begun to catch up and was beginning to engage the rear ships of the German line.

  Meanwhile Beatty had sent his destroyers into the attack at 16.09. As the German light forces responded, the No Man’s Land between the opposing lines of battlecruisers was filled with destroyers.

  In a matter of minutes we were caught up in a maelstrom of whirling ships as we swerved and jockeyed for a breakthrough position. We were under helm most of the time, the ship heeling as she spun. Events moved far too quickly for stereotyped gun control procedure and we let fire at anything hostile that came within our arc of fire. It became a personal affair and I have a vivid recollection of the sweating Trainer cursing as he strove to change his point of aim from ship to ship as
I tried to seize fleeting opportunities. Quite apart from the difficulty in making split second decisions on friend or foe our legitimate enemies swept past at aggregate speeds of up to 60 knots and there was scant time to make a wild guess at range and deflection and get the gun pointed and fired before the chance passed and we were frantically trying to focus on a new target. It was quite impossible to pick out one’s own fall of shot in a sea pocked with shell splashes, nor was there time to correct the range had we been able to do so. We fired many rounds at more or less point blank range but had no idea if any found their mark though several bright flashes gave hope that we had inflicted punishment. In the heat of swift action senses become keyed up by the high tempo and feeling for time is lost. I would have been at a loss to say if we had been engaged for minutes or hours. Crowding incidents made it seem an eternity and yet the period of action passed in a flash.7

  Sub-Lieutenant Henry Oram, HMS Obdurate, 13th Flotilla

  The two forces cancelled each other and little of note was achieved. Even though the Seydlitz was hit by one torpedo, the resulting damage barely impeded her progress. The German battlecruisers were indeed proving tough opponents.

  By this time Hipper had succeeded in leading Beatty almost into the very jaws of Scheer and his High Seas Fleet. Scouting ahead of Beatty, the 2nd Light Cruiser Squadron sighted the long line of approaching German dreadnoughts. It was a chilling moment: exciting, but at the same time threatening. On board the Lion Beatty reacted with exemplary speed and decisiveness. After checking the sighting, he reversed course and headed straight back towards the Grand Fleet, seeking to reverse the situation and lead the High Seas Fleet into the grip of the Grand Fleet. Sadly, a further signalling blunder needlessly endangered the Fifth Battle Squadron when it was allowed to continue sailing south after the battlecruisers had turned, before conforming belatedly. The chance to cut off and destroy the Fifth Battle Squadron represented a great opportunity for Scheer and during the run to the north German shells crashed around and about the mighty super-dreadnoughts. But their thick armour prevented anything but superficial damage. Meanwhile, their own 15-inch shells were crashing down on the German battlecruisers and the leading dreadnoughts of the High Seas Fleet.