DEDICATION
To Patricia, Zoë and Francesca for their great patience as well as thoughts and advice on how to write a better book.
To my father, George, in loving memory.
To Ron Horabin, whose model of the Iron Duke will always remain a tribute to his great generosity of spirit.
Copyright © Nicholas Jellicoe 2016
First published in Great Britain in 2016 by
Seaforth Publishing,
An imprint of Pen & Sword Books Ltd,
47 Church Street, Barnsley, South Yorkshire S70 2AS
www.seaforthpublishing.com
Email [email protected]
Reprinted with corrections 2016
Published and distributed in the United States of America and Canada by the Naval Institute Press, 291 Wood Road, Annapolis, Maryland 21402-5043
www.nip.org
Library of Congress Cataloging Number: 2016931555
British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
ISBN: 978 1 84832 321 6
PDF ISBN: 978 1 84832 324 7
EPUB ISBN: 978 1 84832 323 0
PRC ISBN: 978 1 84832 322 3
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No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without prior permission in writing of both the copyright owners and the above publisher.
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Contents
Illustrations
Foreword Prof Dr Michael Epkenhans
Preface
Acknowledgements
Abbreviations
Introduction
THE CONTEXT
1 The Emergence of German Economic and Naval Power
2 The Fleet Builders: Fisher and Tirpitz
3 A Contradiction, Not A Team: Jellicoe and Beatty
4 Men From the Same Mould: Scheer and Hipper
5 The Naval Non-War
THE BATTLE
6 Prelude to Action
7 The Battle-Cruiser Debacle
8 The First Destroyer Melee
9 The Deployment
10 David and Goliath: Scheer’s Escape
THE AFTERMATH
11 Opening Pandora’s Box: Unrestricted Submarine War
12 From Kiel to Scapa Flow
13 Counting Up After the Battle
14 The Controversy: An Unfinished Battle
Notes
Sources
Illustrations
The SMS Lützow memorial at the Ehrenfriedhof in Wilhelmshaven. (Author’s photograph)
Admiral Sir John Jellicoe (later Earl Jellicoe of Scapa), commander of the Grand Fleet. Painting by Sir Arthur Stockdale Cope (1857–1949) in 1921. (Private collection)
Admiral Reinhard Scheer, commander of the German High Seas Fleet. (Private collection)
Vice Admiral Sir David Beatty (later Earl Beatty of the North Sea), commander of the Battle Cruiser Fleet. Painting by Sir Arthur Stockdale Cope (1857–1949) in 1921. (BHC2537 © National Maritime Museum, Greenwich, London)
Vice Admiral Franz (later Ritter Franz von) Hipper, commander of the German scouting forces. (Courtesy of Laboe Marine Memorial Collection)
Scapa Flow, the Grand Fleet’s base in the remote but relatively safe Orkneys. In the foreground is the 12in-gunned dreadnought Colossus. (Courtesy of Martin Bourdillon)
The High Seas Fleet leaving Wilhelmshaven led by Friedrich der Grösse and the 3rd Squadron, as seen from Ostfriesland. (Courtesy of the German Bundesarchiv)
The three Lion-class ships, known as the ‘Splendid Cats’, were the pride of Beatty’s Battle Cruiser Fleet. (Private collection)
Warspite and Malaya on 31 May, around 14:00 GMT, seen from Valiant. The four 15in-gunned Queen Elizabeth-class ships of the 5th Battle Squadron attached to the Battle Cruiser Fleet should have given Beatty a decisive advantage over Hipper’s 1st Scouting Group. (Courtesy of Martin Bourdillon)
Jellicoe’s flagship, Iron Duke, opening fire at Jutland, painted by William L Wyllie (1851–1931). (Private collection)
Claus Bergen’s (1885–1964) depiction of the ‘crossing of the T’, in Prof Arthur Marder’s words, ‘the greatest concentration of naval gunfire any fleet commander had ever faced.’ (Courtesy of Laboe Naval Memorial Museum © 2016, ProLiterris, Zürich)
Powered by the revolutionary Parsons steam turbine, Von der Tann, the first German battle-cruiser, reached 24.75 knots during her speed trials. (Courtesy of Blohm und Voss, Hamburg)
The forward 11in SK L/45 guns of Von der Tann. British battle-cruisers were more heavily armed, and faster, but the German ships were better protected and could withstand heavy damage. (Courtesy of Blohm und Voss, Hamburg)
The German flag hoist for torpedo attack, the red pennant of the ‘Stander-Z’ by Willy Stöwer (1864–1931). Flotilla torpedo attacks were thoroughly rehearsed by the German navy. (Courtesy of Hamburg International Maritime Museum © 2016, ProLiterris, Zürich)
In Jellicoe’s mind, the chief function of British destroyers was to fend off German torpedo-boat attacks, and in an attempt to obtain a degree of control the flotillas were commanded from larger ‘leaders’ like Broke seen here. However, during the confusion of the night actions on 1 June, Broke collided with Sparrowhawk, one of her own 4th Destroyer Flotilla. (N03104 © National Maritime Museum, Greenwich, London)
The 935-ton destroyer Spitfire colliding with the 20,000-ton battleship Nassau in the early hours of 1 June. (Courtesy of Alan Bush)
The heavily damaged Spitfire entering the Tyne at 14:00 GMT on 2 June. (Courtesy of Alan Bush)
The battleship Malaya burying her dead at sea, 1 June. (Author’s collection)
The German poet Johann Kinau (1880–1916), is better known under his nom de plume Gorch Fock. He died on the light cruiser Wiesbaden.
Repairing Warspite’s battle damage at Rosyth. Shown is a 12in shell hit beneath the after Y turret. (N16494 © National Maritime Museum, Greenwich, London)
A lone sailor stands silhouetted in the gaping shell hole on Derfflinger, one of the German ships most heavily damaged at Jutland. (Courtesy of the German Bundesarchiv)
Sir John Jellicoe bidding farewell to the Grand Fleet, leaving to take up the position of First Sea Lord, 29 November 1916. (Author’s collection)
Sir Hugh Evan-Thomas (left) with Admiral Beatty after being awarded the KCB by King George V using Beatty’s sword, 25 June 1917. (Courtesy of Martin Bourdillon)
John Jellicoe was laid to rest on 3 December 1935 in Nelson’s shadow in the crypt of St Paul’s. The procession passing Ludgate Hill. (Courtesy Illustrated London News)
On the news of Jellicoe’s death, the flags of three nations’ navies, including that of Hitler’s Kriegsmarine, were lowered. (Author’s collection)
Maps
(Drawn by Peter Wilkinson)
PROLOGUE TO THE BATTLE: Position about 14:00 on 31 May 1916
THE BATTLE-CRUISER ACTION: Up to 17:35 on 31 May 1916
THE BATTLE FLEET ACTION: Up to 21:00 on 31 May 1916
THE NIGHT ACTION: From 22:00 on 31 May to 02:45 on 1 June 1916
Foreword
A hundred years ago, on 31 May/1 June 1916, the Grand Fleet and the German High Seas Fleet clashed in the North Sea. Within the space of twelve hours,
two hundred and fifty warships fought the biggest naval battle in history. Although both navies had always longed for Der Tag – the day of reckoning – before 1914 neither was willing to risk the potential losses. As a result, the Grand Fleet established a distant blockade, keeping the High Seas Fleet at arm’s length and, at the same time, helping force Germany to its knees by cutting off its access to world trade. The High Seas Fleet, in return, had no intention of facing the Grand Fleet in an open encounter in the northern North Sea. Any attack against the Grand Fleet in those waters would, most likely, end in a catastrophe as German naval manoeuvres had shown on the eve of war.
The German decision to risk no open encounter was further underscored by the loss of three light cruisers after a British surprise attack near Heligoland (28 August 1914). As a result, hoping to lure out parts of the Grand Fleet and whittle down its strength, the High Seas Fleet reverted to a hit-and-run strategy. This, however, also proved a disaster. At the Battle of Dogger Bank (24 January 1915), British battle-cruisers surprised the German Fleet, sinking the armoured cruiser Blücher. Seeking to avoid any risk of more losses, the High Seas Fleet stayed in harbour for more than a year. In spring 1916 the new Commander-in-Chief of the High Seas Fleet, Vice Admiral Reinhard Scheer, decided to resume this strategy. Thus he hoped to prove the existence of the navy as well as to contribute to the overall German war effort. The first sortie of this strategy eventually ended in the battle now commonly known as the Battle of Jutland.
This battle, which is described in Nick Jellicoe’s book, was a unique event. It occurred almost precisely at the midpoint of World War I. In this respect, it was an exceptional event, and the protagonists on both sides would have preferred it to have been a normal one.
The long duration of the war, before and after the battle, suggests that it was a superfluous battle, one that only served to confirm the status quo. And yet it claimed an alarming number of casualties by today’s standards – nearly ten thousand dead and wounded on each side. In comparison with the battle of the Somme, begun a few weeks earlier and which cost the lives of far more combatants – three hundred thousand to be exact – these losses were minor. But the Battle of Jutland contained other ‘superlatives’. Unlike the mass killing on the Western Front, this battle was a showdown between the most highly developed battle technologies, with what were essentially state-of-the art weapons that had been the achievements of domestic industrial ability and had been developed and produced over many years and at great expense.
Nick Jellicoe marvellously describes all the events and developments which eventually led to the great naval encounter of Jutland. Both from the German and British points of view, he tells us why the German navy challenged the Royal Navy before 1914 and how the latter responded. He combines the analysis of events with a vivid description of the mentality of naval leaders and leadership on both sides of the North Sea, without which it would be difficult to understand what happened during the war. His description of the battle itself is a masterpiece of historical writing. Always trying to offer a fair and unbiased judgement, he gives the reader deep insight into an event which has, ever since, attracted the attention of millions of people all over the world although it had changed nothing. On the day, the High Seas Fleet fought with outstanding bravery and skill, yet it had only been able to knock at the gate of its golden cage without successfully opening it.
Nick Jellicoe’s book not only describes the battle’s origins, he also gives the reader a view from both above and below deck and a sense of the ordeal of naval action. And finally he explores the aftermath, the lessons learned by admirals on both sides, and the way in which naval officers and the public commemorated and symbolised the battle, known in Germany as the Skagerrakschlacht, back then but also today. This very contemporary approach, which is based on a wide range of both well-known as well as some new documents, makes reading his book a real pleasure.
PROF DR MICHAEL EPKENHANS
Centre for Military History and
Social Sciences of the Bundeswehr, Potsdam
Preface
The Battle of Jutland was the largest, and last, dreadnought engagement in history. Two hundred and fifty ships battled against each other for twelve hours, through day and night, in a struggle that dwarfed the battle of Trafalgar. Every tenth sailor, whether British or German, died, but unlike the war in the trenches, officers led from the front with their men and for the British, three admirals paid the ultimate price.
The century that followed Trafalgar was one in which no other nation came close to challenging British sea power until Kaiser Wilhelm II, emboldened by a deep jealousy and hatred of his British birthright, set Germany on a course that would inevitably lead to war.
The significance of Jutland is in danger of being lost, its importance overshadowed by the monumental slaughter of the land war, rather than being put into the wider strategic context of, and impact on, the First World War as a whole. The battle was one of the decisive turning points in the First World War, promoting a complete turnaround in German naval strategy, one that brought Britain to its knees and close to defeat in 1917, as shipping vital to the nation’s survival was methodically destroyed by unrestricted German submarine warfare.
Even so, the German navy’s strategic shift proved to be a huge miscalculation on Germany’s part. It brought American manpower and resources into the war and helped tip the balance of the war to favour the Allied cause. The incarceration of the German surface fleet and its eventual scuttling at Scapa Flow had other unforeseen results. It accelerated the collapse of morale in the German navy, exacerbating the social tensions between ranks, and fomenting the growing revolutionary movement in Germany by providing committed and seasoned recruits to its cause. With the loss of the fleet as a bargaining chip at the Versailles peace negotiations, the reparations exacted by the Allies only fuelled German bitterness after the end of the war. That bitterness ultimately contributed to the years of civil strife and to Hitler.
Acrimony followed the battle’s end. The British public had expected another Trafalgar and when the German fleet was not annihilated, the search for a scapegoat began. Admiral Sir John Jellicoe, the British commander-in-chief, was the first victim. A war of words between two rival camps comprised of zealous supporters of the two British admirals who fought on the day – Sir John and Vice Admiral Sir David Beatty, commander of the Battle Cruiser Fleet – dragged on for decades, although neither faction wanted a public debate which both knew was liable to tarnish the Royal Navy’s reputation. And yet, even today, the unhealthy, nationalistic debate continues. For Germany it was different. The Skagerrakschlacht, as the battle became known, served as the key act in the German navy’s fight to restore its honour. The battle became a well of heroic and courageous propaganda. In Wilhelm II’s words, German valour at Jutland had broken the spell of Trafalgar.
The battle was complex. Its story must be set against the context of the times, and the story of its tactics, technology and personalities told through both British and German eyes. It is a story of how the two most powerful navies were shaped by the larger-than-life personalities of men like Tirpitz and Jacky Fisher, men who were, in turn, both limited and empowered by the shifting structure of European alliances and domestic political debate. It is the story of the commanders at sea and how their choices shaped the battle as it unfolded about them. Jutland was the first real test for the tactics and naval and military technologies which had been developed in the years of peace and not yet proven under the stress of war. It was a test faced by two very different navies, one only a generation old, the other steeped in, and bound by, the traditions of centuries.
For me this story is also a personal journey, as John Jellicoe was my paternal grandfather. I have discovered a man whom I never knew: a complex, sometimes flawed figure, but one whom I have come to greatly admire. My family ties have given me both a sense of responsibility in helping keep the epic of Jutland alive, as well as opening many doors, giving me wider and priv
ileged access to many British and German sources.
I have tried to bring to light the many viewpoints that exist in a balanced, transparent and fair manner. I owe a great deal to the mass of written material that has already been published on the battle, but still find it a great pity that much of the German point of view has never been translated, or that the role of the ordinary seamen in the German navy has not received more focus. There is significant value to be found in the different national perspectives. I hope the centenary will shed some new light and understanding on a story that has all too often been mired in deep controversy.
Rarely has a battle been so written about, discussed and disputed as has Jutland. I hope to have made a valued contribution by bringing more understanding to a wider public.
NICHOLAS JELLICOE
Jongny, Switzerland, August 2015
Acknowledgements
In the course of researching and writing the book I received a huge amount of help and goodwill from many people who willingly gave me their time and the benefit of their knowledge. I owe them all a large debt of gratitude.
Eric Grove was the first historian to whom I spoke. It was as a result of our first meeting in Blackpool in 2011 that I then met – one introduction leading to another – Prof Dr Michael Epkenhans, Kapitän zur See Dr Werner Rahn, Dr Stefan Huck of the Wilhemshaven Marine Museum and Dr Jann Witt of the Laboe Memorial, all of whom I now regard as friends and colleagues. I am especially grateful to Robert Massie, who visited my father while writing Castles of Steel and who then reciprocated, this time inviting me to visit his Hudson River home to discuss my ideas.
A chance meeting in a Geneva bookshop with the American writer, Matt Stevenson, led to months of his thoughtful advice as well as contacts. I introduced myself because, at the time, I overheard him talking with another close American friend, John McCarthy. It was John’s mother’s generosity that made the McCarthy Nelson Gallery at the National Museum of the Royal Navy possible, and John was the one person my father said I must look up when I went to work in Geneva. He has beed a friend and supporter for more than twenty years. My sincere thanks to Don Walsh, who in 1960 as captain of the Trieste took man to the deepest part of our known oceans at the very bottom of the Marianas Trench. It was Don who, late one night as we talked, laid down the gauntlet and got me on the road to writing seriously. I thought of his exploits in the deep while on the surface of the North Sea visiting the Jutland wreck sites in the spring of 2015. The M/S Vina expedition was led by Gert Normann Andersen, founder of the new Sea War Museum in Thyborøn, Denmark. Naval archaeologist Dr Innes McCartney, someone who has dived more Jutland wrecks than anyone, was the main adviser. We surveyed thirty-two square kilometres of the North Seabed and visited all the known Jutland wrecks, many with close ROV inspection. It was extraordinarily generous of Gert to include me and to be able to witness first-hand the weather conditions similar to those on the actual day of the battle, 31 May 1916.
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