To Arms

by Hew Strachan

  As he rounded the Horn Cradock’s thirst for action was spiced by the increasingly strong wireless signals from Leipzig. Cradock assumed that he was about to catch the German light cruiser on its own. In fact Spee had rendezvoused with Leipzig and Dresden at Easter Island by 14 October, and had then restricted the use of wireless to one vessel in order to obscure the presence of the others. Cradock’s ability to fall for this ruse was extraordinary, in view not only of his own earlier prescience as to Spee’s movements but also of the fact that he used Glasgow in exactly the same way. Spee too, as offensive-minded and potentially rash as his opponent, was led on in the belief that a single enemy vessel was in the offing.

  On 1 November the Germans moved south to cut off Glasgow, emerging from Coronel Bay. At about 4.30 p.m. they found her, but not for another hour were they to appreciate the proximity of the remainder of Cradock’s force. Cradock could have escaped. He knew from Glasgow’s reporting that he was now approaching Spee’s entire squadron, but his decision was to concentrate on the Glasgow, the ship nearest to the enemy. He did not fall back on Canopus, although he did summon her assistance, or on Defence, as he still imagined her to be approaching. If he thought beyond his own impulse for battle, his justification was two fold; first, he had finally tracked Spee down, and he could not afford to lose him again in the expanses of the Pacific or the Atlantic, and secondly, he had a faint prospect of success. While the western sun was above the horizon it shone in the eyes of the German gun crews and gave the British a temporary advantage. Once the sun had set, the light, as long as it lasted, would be to Spee’s benefit, silhouetting the British ships against a reddening sky. Spee’s moment would be brief, and the sea was rough and would upset his aim.

  But Cradock lacked the pace to close while the light was right. Otranto kept the maximum speed of the British ships to 15 knots; Spee worked his cruisers up from 14 to 20 knots, and so maintained his distance. Then, at 7 p.m., when the light had turned to his favour, he closed. The Germans’ broadside weighed 4,442 pounds to the British 2,875;53 their gunnery was faster and more accurate. The heavy seas meant that up to half the British guns, which were mounted low, could not be used without water flooding the casemates. The appalling weather round the Horn and up the Chilean coast, which had made Glasgow ‘practically a submarine’,54 had covered the range finders with salt spray. Cradock’s flagship was hit before she had been able to open fire. The range came down from 13,000 yards to 5,100. By 7.30, when the German armoured cruisers ceased firing, Good Hope was ablaze and sinking; Monmouth, badly damaged, went down two hours later. Only Glasgow and Otranto escaped.

  The news of Coronel did not reach the Admiralty until 4 November. Churchill was quick to blame Cradock; only later would the admiral’s quixotic courage be compared with that of Sir Richard Grenville and the Revenge. Fisher, on the other hand, newly restored to the Admiralty, sought responsibility closer at home. The dispositions of the Royal Navy’s oceanic resources had been diffuse and defensive. As the governor-general of Australia complained, ‘The maxim of seeking out the enemy’s ships and destroying them has been ignored’.55 Cradock’s demise was the product of a lack of concentration that was not entirely his own fault. Defence had been kept north of Montevideo until too late; neither Patey nor the Japanese had extended eastwards to converge on Spee from the west. The Australians blamed these strategic faults on ‘the remoteness of Admiralty control’. The fact that they might also be the consequence of the lack of a proper war staff—a point reinforced by the confusion and ambiguity in the Admiralty’s instructions—was of course not an interpretation to which Fisher’s mind was open. His criticism was more personal, and directed at the chief of the war staff which did exist, Sir F. C. D. Sturdee. Crucial to the First Sea Lord was the fact that, in his eyes, Sturdee was a Beresfordian. Coronel seemed the ideal excuse for his removal. Churchill demurred. The Admiralty could ill-afford yet more upheavals and bad publicity. The First Lord’s solution, to promote Sturdee and give him the task of making good Cradock’s defeat, had an irony that appealed to Fisher.

  To accomplish the task Sturdee was given two battle cruisers, Inflexible and Invincible, and a third, Princess Royal, was allocated to Stoddart. Sturdee and Battenberg had wanted to send battle cruisers from the outset, but they had given in to Jellicoe’s objections. Now Jellicoe’s protests at a further weakening of the North Sea balance were ignored, and on 11 November Sturdee sailed from Devonport. The Japanese were encouraged to cross the Pacific towards the equator and Fiji, while Patey’s Australian squadron pushed eastwards to Fanning Island. A total of almost thirty British ships, excluding those of Japan or France, were bearing down on the East Asiatic Squadron.

  The detachment of the battle cruisers was soon known in Germany, and the news signalled to South America. But it never reached Spee. The German admiral called at Valparaiso on 3 November, and then sailed south, his bunkers full. He was now, as far as the German wireless network was concerned, in the dead corner of the world. Even in peace the relay stations had not conveyed the signals of the Nauen transmitter beyond the Andes to the south-west coast of South America; in November 1914 storms and radio silence confirmed Spee’s ignorance.

  But inadequate intelligence is insufficient explanation for Spee’s subsequent moves. At Valparaiso, for the first time, he had received specific advice from Berlin—to break for home. He also learned that his route was compromised, and that he would struggle to get sufficient coal for his five ships. Already fatalist, Spee now became indecisive. Ten days were lost, allowing the British time to react, before on 15 November he left Mas a Fuera for Cape Horn. Prinz Eitel Friedrich remained behind, sending wireless transmissions to persuade the Royal Navy that the entire squadron remained off the Chilean coast. The sensible course to pursue, and the one favoured by all but one of his ships’ captains, was to pass Cape Horn and continue east, giving the Falkland Islands a wide berth, before heading northwards. If he wished to resume a guerre de course he could do so off the River Plate; little trade would be disrupted by his staying in the further reaches of the south Atlantic. Whether he harassed merchant shipping or not, he needed to be wary of his ammunition stocks, for after Papeete and Coronel only 878 8.2-inch shells remained, and he would need all of those to force his way into the North Sea.

  Spee’s decision to raid the Falkland Islands was therefore the antithesis of good tactics, irrespective of the presence of the battle cruisers. Possibly he was the victim of a British deception, a report circulated in Valparaiso that the Falklands was empty of warships.56 If so, it hardly constitutes a great coup for counter-intelligence, as the story was essentially true, and remained so on 6 December when a German agent at Punta Arenas again told Spee that there were no warships in the Falklands. Both pieces of information did no more than confirm Spee in his own inclinations, which were to destroy the British communications centre for the south-west Atlantic. Once again his proclivity for action, as at Apia and at Tahiti, would reveal his presence, consume his shells, but achieve little in real terms.

  On 8 December 1914 the East Asiatic Squadron approached the Falkland Islands. Spee had not even pushed his light cruisers forward to reconnoitre; with sufficient warning from them his squadron could have made good its escape. Oblivious of the battle cruisers’ presence, he no doubt reckoned that all of his units had the legs of any British warships in the vicinity. As the Gneisenau neared Cape Pembroke its senior gunnery officer spotted many more masts beyond Sapper Hill than he had anticipated; eventually he made out the three-legged tripod masts characteristic of Dreadnoughts. His fear that there might be battle cruisers in Port Stanley was pooh-poohed by the Gneisenaus captain: the latter reported to Spee the presence of several cruisers and possibly two battleships. By 10.30 a.m. Spee’s squadron was bearing away from the Falklands on a south-easterly course. Its speed, Spee reckoned, would enable it to escape the guns of the battleships.

  Indeed, the Germans did have major initial advantages in the subsequent chase. From
the outset Sturdee’s approach had been surprisingly lackadaisical. An intercepted telegram from the German consulate at Valparaiso, relayed via San Francisco to Berlin, had requested that supplies be prepared for the East Asiatic Squadron at Buenos Aires.57 But Sturdee acted as through oblivious of this intelligence. Only Luce’s sense of urgency had persuaded the squadron commander so far south so soon. A surprise attack by Spee a little earlier in the morning might have had a devastating effect. At 7.30 a.m., when the Germans were first spotted, the British ships were coaling. The dust hampered subsequent communications, the work needed completion, and steam had to be raised. Luce’s ship Glasgow, having finished its coaling, was one of the first away, shortly before 10 a.m.; the last did not clear harbour until nearly 11.00. However, Sturdee was relaxed and calm. The weather, after almost continuous rain and cloud, was clear; he still had most of the day in which to catch Spee, and he had the speed and the guns with which to do it. Two battle cruisers, four armoured cruisers, two light cruisers, and one armed merchant cruiser constituted a crushing superiority. Aboard the Gneisenau, as the truth dawned, ‘We choked a little at the neck, the throat contracted and stiffened, for that meant a life and death grapple, or rather a fight ending in honourable death’.58

  The initial speeds of Inflexible and Invincible were 26 knots. The German armoured cruisers, their bottoms fouled by their long journey, made 18 knots, although Gneisenau at one stage reached 21.59 Sturdee slowed down to allow his force to regroup, but then at 12.20 ordered the battle cruisers and Glasgow back up to 26 knots. At 16,500 yards Inflexible opened fire. Its guns were calibrated for ranges of 12,000 yards, and its shooting was slow and falling short. The wind direction meant that the ships’ own smoke obscured their observation; furthermore, the British, being dead astern of the Germans, could only bring half their guns to bear.

  Spee looked anxiously to the south, willing a break in the weather. But none came. At 1.25 he split his force, dispatching the light cruisers to the south, hoping that their speed would enable them to stay clear until cloud or night protected them. Scharnhorst and Gneisenau he brought round to the east, to engage Invincible and Inflexible. The two sides could now open with their broadsides, 3,500 pounds to 10,000 pounds. The Germans’ fire was concentrated on Invincible, which suffered twenty-two hits, leaving Inflexible undisturbed. At lower elevations the British shells had greater penetration. Spee needed either to close, in order to be able to employ his secondary armament, or to break away. Twice the British need to turn to clear their own smoke gave him a respite. But the intervals were only temporary, and, with the range never falling below 12,000 yards, his 5.9-inch secondary guns had little effect. Sturdee was mindful of the fact that his battle cruisers, with this action over, would be recalled post-haste by Jellicoe. Ideally, he had a margin of 2,500 yards within which to work, 14,000 being the maximum for the Germans’ 8.2-inch main armament and 16,500 for his. By keeping the fight at about this range he avoided damage to his Dreadnoughts and to their crews (only one seaman was killed). At 4.17 p.m. Scharnhorst was sunk; at 6.02 Gneisenau, now out of ammunition, followed. One of Spee’s sons, Heinrich, went down with her.

  The other, Otto, was on the Nürnberg, to which HMS Kent gave frantic pursuit. By feeding her boilers with all available fuel, including the chaplain’s lectern, Kent raised her speed to 25 knots, 5,000 horse-power above her designated maximum, and by 5 p.m. had closed to within 12,000 yards of Nürnberg. The latter turned to port to bring her broadside to bear, and by 5.30 p.m. the action was being fought at 3,000 yards. At 6.30 p.m. two of Nürnberg’s overstrained boilers blew up. Leipzig was also overhauled, by Glasgow and Cornwall. The lyddite shells of the latter ‘would burst in the middle of a group and strip them of their arms and legs—men would rush about with exposed bones, crazy from the effects of the shell’.60 Those who ended up in the sea soon died from exposure, their bodies attacked—even while still living—by skuas and albatrosses. Of Spee’s light cruisers, only Dresden escaped.

  The battle of the Falkland Islands was the most decisive naval engagement, whether interpreted tactically or strategically, of the war. Its conduct vindicated Fisher’s advocacy of the battle cruiser: the combination of speed and long-range gunnery had proved lethal. Fisher’s new designs, to become Renown and Repulse, capable of 32 knots, equipped with 15-inch guns but with less armour, were approved the same month. By March 1915 Fisher was projecting schemes for battle cruisers with speeds of 35 knots and with 20-inch guns.

  In reality the Falkland action was less a pointer to the future of naval warfare than an exception. Because it was fought on the oceans and not the narrow seas, its conduct was free of the intervention of the new technology—of mines, submarines, and aeroplanes, all still at an intermediate stage of development. Surface ships would never enjoy such a freedom again. Furthermore, the fact that it had occurred at all was the product of bad judgement on Spee’s part. It proved, as Tsushima had done, how conclusive—in the right weather conditions—a marginal technical superiority could be. The consequence was that a prudent and well-informed commander would shun combat, not seek it as Spee had done.

  Furthermore, victory had overshadowed the two major tactical deficiencies of the battle cruisers. Their lack of armour had not become an issue. The Germans had never closed to 10,000 yards in order to be able to use their 5.9-inch shells; some of the 8.2-inch shells had not burst, and those that had had little incendiary effect. More palpable were the deficiencies in British gunnery. It had taken five hours’ shooting and 1,174 12-inch shells—or one hit per gun every seventy-five minutes—to sink two German armoured cruisers. The lack of director firing on the two battle cruisers engaged was only a partial explanation. The long ranges had exceeded those of battle practice. More importantly they, the changes of course, and the rate of change had exceeded the capacities of the mechanical aids available to the gunnery officers. Most of the range-finding in the battle was done by spotting the fall of shot. Even when the British shooting did find its target, the long ranges may well have caused the fuses of the armour-piercing shells to fail because of the oblique angle at which they struck the German armour.61

  Strategically, the annihilation of the East Asiatic Squadron marked the end of the cruiser war. Lack of coal forced Kronprinz Wilhelm and Prinz Eitel Friedrich into internment in the spring of 1915. Glasgow ran down the cautious Dresden thanks to a signals intercept on 14 March 1915. Karlsruhe, which indirectly had so much influence on the outcome of Coronel, captured eighteen ships by 24 October 1914, sinking sixteen of them and keeping two as supply ships. By putting two auxiliary ships abreast of her, she could extend her search to a range of 80 miles, while at the same time ensuring greater warning of approaching danger. She continued to exercise the minds of the Admiralty for some weeks after she had ceased to exist. On 4 November she was blown in half off Barbados by an internal explosion, probably caused by unstable ammunition. Königsberg sank a merchantman in August 1914 and a British destroyer in September, but was blockaded in the Rufiji delta in East Africa from November.

  However, it was the exploits of the Emden that captured the imagination of the public, almost as much in Britain as in Germany. Müller began his operations in the Bay of Bengal on 10 September; on the evening of 22 September he bombarded Madras; and on 4 October his tender coaled at Diego Garcia, the British inhabitants not having heard of the declaration of war. On 28 October he torpedoed a Russian cruiser and a French destroyer in a raid on Penang. The Russians had no lookouts posted and only twelve rounds on deck ready for the guns; but there were sixty Chinese prostitutes below. The ship’s captain, who was engaged in similar dalliance ashore, was stripped of his commission and his title, and spent three-and-a-half years in prison. Four times the Emden escaped the attentions of HMS Hampshire, albeit by the narrowest of margins. But on 9 November she was sunk, after raiding the wireless station on the Cocos Islands, by Sydney, an Australian light cruiser detached from convoy escort. Emden used a dummy funnel with which to disguise
herself, but in this case the funnel was so poorly rigged that a message expressing suspicion was dispatched before the Germans could jam the wireless. Sydney’s gunnery was poor at first but, using her speed to keep her distance from Emden, she eventually hit the German vessel about a hundred times: in the word of one of Sydney’s officers, ‘everybody on board was demented—that’s all you could call it, just fairly demented—by shock, fumes and the roar of shells bursting among them’.62 In seventy days Emden had captured twenty-three vessels, and had disrupted trade over a wide area. On five out of the ten occasions when she had had to coal she had been able to do so from her own prizes.