With The Battle Cruisers [Illustrated Edition]

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Text originally published in 1921 under the same title.

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Although in most cases we have retained the Author’s original spelling and grammar to authentically reproduce the work of the Author and the original intent of such material, some additional notes and clarifications have been added for the modern reader’s benefit.

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WITH THE BATTLE CRUISERS

By

FILSON YOUNG

(Late Lieutenant R.N.V.R.)

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Contents

TABLE OF CONTENTS 4

DEDICATION 5

PREFACE 6

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 7

CHARTS 9

CHAPTER I — THE YEARS BEFORE 10

CHAPTER II — THE BATTLE CRUISERS 18

CHAPTER III — BREAKING INTO THE NAVY 29

CHAPTER IV — INVERGORDON AND THE NORTH SEA 35

CHAPTER V — SEA DOINGS 58

CHAPTER VI — THE RAID ON HARTLEPOOL AND SCARBOROUGH 63

CHAPTER VII — THE FIRTH OF FORTH 82

CHAPTER VIII — CHRISTMAS AT SEA 95

CHAPTER IX — A NEW YEAR 99

CHAPTER X — DAYS WITH THE FLEET 104

1. AN ADMIRAL’S DAY 104

2. THE ELUSIVE ENEMY 107

3. CLOSING THE LAND 109

CHAPTER XI — BATTLE OF THE DOGGER BANE: PRELUDE 115

CHAPTER XII — BATTLE OF THE DOGGER BANK: THE CHASE 118

CHAPTER XIII — BATTLE OF THE DOGGER BANK: THE RETURN 141

CHAPTER XIV — AFTERMATH 155

CHAPTER XV — THE FIRST SPRING 172

CHAPTER XVI — FOUNDATIONS OF THE FUTURE 176

APPENDIX A — THE DOGGER BANK DESPATCH 182

Appendix — THE DESPATCH AS PUBLISHED 188

APPENDIX B  FORCES ENGAGED IN THE BATTLE OF THE DOGGER BANK 193

(I.) BRITISH 193

FIRST BATTLE CRUISER SQUADRON 193

SECOND BATTLE CRUISER SQUADRON 193

FIRST LIGHT CRUISER SQUADRON 193

FLOTILLAS 193

IN SUPPORT 194

(II.) GERMAN 195

FIRST SCOUTING GROUP 195

SECOND SCOUTING GROUP 195

EXPENDITURE OF AMMUNITION ON THE 24th JANUARY, 1915. 195

APPENDIX C — PERSONNEL OF THE BATTLE CRUISERS ENGAGED ON 24th JANUARY, 1915 197

APPENDIX D — CORRESPONDENCE WITH THE ADMIRALTY, 1920 201

DEDICATION

THOSE WHO DIED

AND THOSE WHO LIVE

FOR ENGLAND

Thou wast made glorious in the midst of the Seas

PREFACE

THIS book is not a chapter of naval history. It is, however, a study of naval life in war from which the material for a chapter in naval history may some day be derived. The Navy and its life must remain to a great extent terra incognita to the public that owes so much to it; and it is as much due to the public as to the Navy that an explorer like myself should give some account of his adventures.

Although the book covers so short a period of the North Sea warfare the period is vital in that it embraces the discovery of nearly all our naval shortcomings, and the initiation of the means taken to overcome them. The point of view—that of the spearhead of the British Naval forces—necessarily includes a wide angle of outlook, in which the detail of things must diminish in proportion as they recede from the view-point. But just as one full and intimate picture of the life of one ship for one month would give the reader a more human insight into the Navy than a general survey of the whole Fleet for four years, so the narrative of an eye-witness whose place was for six months on the very point of that bright spearhead should have a value apart from, and supplementary to, the official and technical histories which are being compiled. My aim in this narrative has been to draw as few conclusions myself, and to present as much material from which others may draw them, as is humanly possible.

As the Admiralty in its wisdom has refused{1} me access to documents by which I might verify my facts, the sources from which that material is drawn are limited to (1) my own observation and memory, which are trained for such a purpose; (2) the few notes and records of fact, valueless to an enemy but important to us, that I have been able to preserve; and (3) the published works of officers high in English and German commands. No one but myself is responsible either for my facts or my deductions; but having waited for five years after leaving the Navy and for two years after the end of the war before putting pen to paper, I shall not, I hope, be accused of rushing into print with a hasty or ill-considered record of my impressions.

My book is written primarily for the public and not for the Naval Officer; but I know him well enough to be sure that he, who will best understand the difficulties encountered in writing this book, will most generously forgive its defects. In my brief temporary membership of the band of brothers I came to hold the brotherhood as permanent.

FILSON YOUNG.

LONDON, March, 1921.

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

One of Lord Fisher’s Postscripts

Admiral Beatty on the Bridge (1913)

Facsimile Letter from Lord Fisher (1)

Facsimile Letter from Lord Fisher (2)

A Useful Afterthought

H.M.S. New Zealand in Harbour

The Intelligence Office, and the Secretary

Third Cruiser Squadron

H.M.S. Tiger at Sea

H.M.S. Iron Duke at Scapa

Submarine Look-out

The Admiral’s Back

Rear-Admiral H. B. Pelly

Rear-Admiral Sir Lionel Halsey, G.C.V.O., K.C.M.G., C.B.

Daybreak—December 16, 1914

Rear-Admiral Von Hipper

Derfflinger

Von der Tann

Blücher

H.M.S. Princess Royal

H.M.S. Queen Mary

H.M.S. Tiger

The Anchorage

The Second Battle Cruiser Squadron

Physical Drill at Sea

Turning Together

H.M.S. Invincible

H.M.S. Indomitable

H.M.S. Inflexible

Rear-Admiral F. W. Kennedy

5 Blue (H.M.S. Queen Mary)

Compass Platform, Signal Bridge, and Searchlight Platform of Lion

Working Cables

Rear-Admiral Sir Alfred E. M. Chatfield, K.C.M.G., C.B., C.V.O.

Admiral Von Hipper’s Flagship, the Seydlitz

Armour Plate on Lion’s Port Side, driven in by Shell Fire

Vice-Admiral Sir O. de B. Brock, K.G.B., K.C.M.G., K.C.V.O.

Admiral Beatty’s Dining Cabin after the Dogger Bank Battle

After the Battle

The Sinking of the Blücher

Sunset—H.M.S. Queen Mary

Safe in Port: H.M.S. Lion with Repair Ship Assistance

13’5 Guns

Where an Unexploded Shell passed through Lion’s Upper Deck, Starboard Side

H.M.S. Lion at Sea

H.M.S. Princess Royal

H.M.S. Lion

H.M.A.S. Australia

H.M.S. New Zealand

H.M.S. Indefatigable

The late Captain Cecil Prowse

Tiger Raising Steam

H.M.A.S. Australia

Admiral of the Fleet Earl Beatty, O.M., G.C.B., G.C.V.O., D.S.O., D.C.L.

CHARTS

The Scarborough Raid

The Dogger Bank Battle

The Lion’s Lair

WITH THE BATTLE CRUISERS

CHAPTER I — THE YEARS BEFORE

OF the half-great men, or great half-men, of our time, in whom lack of scruple in the pursuit of large ends is held to be a positive virtue, Lord Fisher was probably as near the whole man as any; and this story may as well begin with him, since it was through talking with him that I came in the years before the war to understand where the centres of effort and of resistance would be when the hurricane fell upon Europe. No man of our time, with the possible exception of Lord Haldane, has been so inaccurately measured as Lord Fisher; by the Navy, because they saw in his methods a grave disloyalty to certain deeply cherished standards; by the public, because he has been chiefly presented to them by a Press which, according to its spectacles, saw in him either an angel or a villain. He was neither. He was a simple and guileful man, cast in a very unusual mould, of which the only other product I have seen was that minor masterpiece of simplicity and cunning, the late President Kruger. Both were essentially simple men, and the element of greatness in both rested on that. Both were inspired by a profound patriotism—the one for the smallest, the other for the greatest, of modern States; in both the simplicity of character was expressed in a brain convoluted and patterned with the oblique philosophy of the Old Testament; both were strong and fearless, and both were unscrupulous in their methods of attaining great ends. Kruger with his theory of the tortoise putting out its head, Fisher with his obsession (expounded to me on one of the blackest days of the war) of the armadillo attracting the ants—as applied to a battle cruiser in the Atlantic and enemy cruisers—here was the same kind of simple guile, dangerously attractive to the unprofessional, above all to the literary, mind. Both were tried in the test of war, and both had to look for justice beyond the judgment of their contemporaries. Beyond that point it is not worth while here to pursue the comparison; but the few others living who had personal experience of the two men may find it interesting and illuminating.

I fell under the old man’s spell on an autumn evening when, arriving at Kilverstone to spend the week-end with him, the car was stopped at the entrance gates by the sturdy, impressive old figure of my host, who haled me forth of the car and had me deep in talk of the Navy before we had reached the house. My chief and lasting impression of that week-end was of a personality passionately inspired with one idea and purpose; a monomaniac, if you will, for whom the universe was one storm cloud; who had no thoughts of peace, or the ends for which war is waged, but only of war itself and the preparation of the British Navy to take the decisive and destructive rôle in that war. This war cloud was then no reality to me, and I marvelled that so strong and able a mind should be so completely obsessed by it. But I learned to think differently, and, like so many others with whose temperament such preoccupations were incompatible, to remember with a shudder the mental indifference that had made me turn my face from the writing on the wall. In those long monologues, with their background of garden pleasaunce or Norfolk stubble, I learned the secret of this lonely life spent so mysteriously and consistently in the pursuit of one aim; mysteriously, because though all his talk was of the sea and sea power, I never could associate Lord Fisher in my mind with the sea, or think of him as a sailor, or imagine him on the quarter-deck or signal bridge. The slow, ponderous personality, uttering itself in aphorisms laboriously quarried from the stuff of solitary thought; the simple, childlike modesty that pretended to no knowledge on many a subject apparently indispensable to his purpose; the equally childlike pride in and reliance on the results of his own experience, meditation and original thought; the very winning and flattering appearance of deference to what one thought or said oneself—these seemed more in accordance with the character of a prophet or apostle than of a man of action. If it was true (as I have heard) that even in his sea days he was no tactician, and but a poor handler of a squadron, it was because ships and squadrons were too small for him; he thought in fleets and in seas, and where another man might think of firing a salvo he would want to launch a division. It is characteristic of this large view that the only charts I ever saw in his room at the Admiralty were of the smallest available scale to the mile, and if they did not include an ocean or a sea or two were of no use to him.

He was at that time presiding over the Royal Commission on Oil Fuel, and had evolved, and would expound with pride in conversation, the remarkable theory that England was miraculously favoured by Providence in having no natural supply of oil. The seas were our oil reservoir and oiling station; there were umpteen millions of tons of oil fuel always in transit on the seas; the wireless charts showed the daily position of every tanker; and all the warship had to do in war-time was to intercept the nearest oilship, fill her bunkers and proceed refreshed. It did not at all work out like that in the event; but the theory was characteristic of a mind that foresaw developments with wonderful precision, and in material matters made the right deductions, but often failed to foresee the actual conditions in which the developments would take place. His vision was of the smokeless, funnel-less and therefore practically invisible warship; and though he dated the war with absolute accuracy, he did not foresee that the use of smoke as a screen would be a greater feature in tactical warfare than the absence of it as a tell-tale.

But if there was nothing of the conventional sailor about him, and if he lacked the breezy charm of his arch-detractor, Lord Charles Beresford, there could be no doubt that he was a master of his subject, and for that reason, if for no other, a delight to listen to. Naturally he was obsessed with a sense of the tremendous effort of his own years at the Admiralty, and with doubts as to his successors’ worthiness of their heritage. No man who had toiled as he had toiled, and fought as he had fought, could think lightly of the toil or the warfare. Thus his conversation was largely retrospective; things that he had said, things that he had done, stood out like milestones on the way, and marked for him the history of the modern Navy. I remember his showing me at Kilverstone the bound volumes of his despatches to the Admiralty when he was Commander-in-Chief in the Mediterranean—all printed on foolscap on board ship, and set up by a man specially trained in a graduated system of type-setting, in which the damns and other expletives were set in various grades of display type, and in three colours of ink, according to the emphasis required by the context. I don’t know what the Board of the time thought of these highly unconventional despatches, but the days of their arrival must have provided their Lordships with some highly entertaining reading. I hope they will be published some day.

At that time Winston Churchill had just entered on his career as First Lord of the Admiralty—a period in which, although it ended in clouds, he rendered his country greater service than he has achieved in any other office. On the few occasions when I saw him then he was always interesting and inspiring on the subject of his trust, and obviously found the handling of it the greatest of his many adventures. And it was through him one day in 1912 that I first met the third and most remarkable of the three men who were to exercise so far-reaching an influence on our naval destinies, and whose actual work in war I was to see so close at hand. We had been discussing some subject, and Winston said: But the man who can tell you all about that is my Naval Secretary. And opening a door at the end of his room he took me in and introduced me to Admiral Beatty.

I had been accustomed to regard Admirals as very senior and indeed venerable beings, those whom I had known being mostly of great age, and retired, living amid a kind of property background of spy-glasses, boat-cloaks and sea rime. I was therefore the less prepared for the appearance of the man, young, distinguished-looking indeed, but more with the distinction of Pall Mall than of Plymouth Hoe, who turned to greet me. Youth and high physical training were written all over the figure and shone in the clear eyes; but there was something in the heavy lines of the face (they are heavier to-day) that seemed to contradict the sense of youth, and, like the deep voice, gave an impression of weight and gravity to a personality that I perceived at once to be remarkable. The meeting proved to be one with much of destiny in it for me; and (what is not always true of such moments) I felt and was sure of it at the time. Here was the man for whom, in a dim but persistent way, one had been looking as a sea-leader; here surely was the realization of one’s dream of the fighting sailor. It was not until after months of friendly intercourse that I began to know what good ground I had for that intuition, and not until after years of trial that it was to be made clear to the world; but I am glad to think that it was clear to me in that dim room at the Admiralty nine years ago, and that in those years my certainty of it never wavered. I little

thought then that I should wear the uniform of his service and stand beside him in battle; but I made up my mind that his was the career to be watched and studied, and his the mind from which one could accept the truth amid the conflicting voices then engaged in debating the essentials of naval supremacy. Here, then, was the ideal type for which Lord Fisher in our conversations had so often sighed; and I was secretly disappointed when, on my mentioning Fisher’s name, Beatty merely smiled. And I was still more crestfallen when, a few days later, I spoke of Beatty enthusiastically to Lord Fisher, he gave me a blank, sour look and said: Really? Never met him.

I did not know the Navy as well in those days as I know it now, or I would have been less surprised than I was that the obviously ablest men in control of naval affairs were far from seeing eye to eye with one another, and even (what was more remarkable) neglected to make any real study of one another’s aims and potentialities. Naval thought, where it existed, was divided into camps, each one regarding victory over the others as essential to victory over the Germans. Thus Lord Charles Beresford, whose best work in his retirement was his untiring public advocacy of naval efficiency, gave one in private a most alarming impression that the Navy was already practically in German control; and one of his mildest views of Lord Fisher was that he was a madman who, on the eve of war, had deliberately scrapped the majority of our cruisers. Winston Churchill was at one time probably one of the men most disliked by the Navy at large; but when one tried to discuss his administration seriously, one was told stories of his bad manners: as, for example, of his going on board a ship, entering the wardroom, ringing the bell and sending for the Commander —a solecism the gravity of which one must have lived in a wardroom to appreciate. And yet, one felt, it was not quite an argument against his efficiency as an administrator. But all the naval officer saw was a man to whose power our sacred naval traditions were committed, and who apparently knew or cared so little for the smallest of them that the greatest might well be in peril at his hands. The anti-Churchill camp was a very strong one. He, on the other hand, seemed to regard Lord Fisher as a dangerous genius to be caught, chained, tamed, and made careful use of; Lord Fisher regarded him (I am speaking of the two years before the war) as a politician to be fought or flattered, made or destroyed, according to his degree of adaptability to the great purpose. Sir Percy Scott was regarded either as the fountain of truth or as a self-advertising madman. All of them regarded the principal non-official students of naval affairs as tiresome meddlers in a scheme of things that they could not be expected to understand; if they could be enlisted in any particular camp, well and good; otherwise they were dismissed with lofty contempt. Mr. Arthur Pollen was looked upon, not as a student and inventor who had proved his value to a Navy that should know how to use him, but as a man who was disappointed because some of his inventions (the principle of which was hastily adopted when experience confirmed his foresight) were not employed. All of his criticisms were supposed to be inspired by bitterness—a most childish and costly mistake. Commander Bellairs was merely a naval partisan. J. L. Garvin, whom personally I found the wisest and most inspiring, as well as the best informed, of all, was regarded as a tragic crier of Wolf! Viscount Curzon was supposed to be trying to make a name for himself by mischievous questions in the House; he also has been abundantly justified. H. W. Wilson, who is probably one of the best informed men in England on naval development over the whole world, was regarded (because he had once been author of a standard work called Ironclads in Action) either as a naval expert on the period of the Flood or of Tarshish, or, because he wrote in the Daily Mail, as a dangerous young chip of that scarcely older block that could never be relied upon to keep its heavy guns trained on one naval camp at a time. Yet all these laymen were far more right than the professionals in power.

But the mark of Lord Fisher was, for good or ill, stamped on the material of the Navy; the Lion, the latest development of his maxim, Speed is armour, had lately been commissioned, and was at the head of the new Battle Cruiser Squadron; Admiral Jellicoe, the predestined commander of Lord Fisher’s choice, had for years been preparing and fashioning at the Admiralty the weapon which he would have to wield in war. The high commands were all more or less settled, with the exception of the Battle Cruiser Squadron, the formation of which had just been completed by Sir Lewis Bayley, its first admiral. It is to Winston Churchill’s credit that, in spite of murmurings and heart burnings, he handed this magnificent arm, the super-cavalry of the sea, to the youngest admiral on the list (the last to be entitled to it by the laws of seniority) because he believed that Beatty was the man who would use it best. And it is interesting to note that of the three great naval reputations made in the war—those of Beatty, Tyrwhitt and Keyes—none of them was a Fisher man, or indeed belonged to any camp; all had passed bad examinations and done as little office work as possible, and none was predestined or trained by the Admiralty for the work he was to do. And it is proof of the lamentable fact that the Admiralty was too deeply absorbed in administering the Navy to think of preparing it for fighting, that when Beatty took the Battle Cruiser Squadron to sea in the spring of 1913 for training, he found that there were no instructions from the Admiralty as to what it was to be trained for, no policy formed as to the nature of its employment in the Fleet. No one had thought of that, and Sir Lewis Bayley’s period of command was too short to permit of his remedying the defect.

There could be no clearer example of the deplorable lack of a Staff, a mere thinking department, to think out even the general lines on which the weapons so laboriously prepared were to be used. The weapons were there, in a high state of edge and polish, thanks largely to Lord Fisher and to the stuff and spirit of the Navy itself; but the most formidable weapon of all, the collective, co-ordinating brain, was simply not in existence. Brains were at a discount both in the Navy and the Admiralty, as they are in every organization of our national life; officers who made any real study of war from the point of view of Staff work were regarded as cranks or lunatics, hunters of soft jobs; and the gin-and-bitters school were quite content to be left to the guidance of their splendid but not always highly trained instincts. As it