ADMIRALS ALL
“Concerning brave Captains
Our age hath made known.”
RUDYARD KIPLING.
At the Admiralty—The State of Business—Immediate Measures—The Two
Leading Sailors—Lord Fisher of Kilverstone—His Great Reforms—His
Violent Methods—The Schism in the Fleet—Difficulties of His
Task—The Bacon Letters—Our Conference at Reigate Priory—A Fateful
Decision—Lord Fisher’s Correspondence—Sir Arthur Wilson, the First
Sea Lord—Deadlock Concerning the War Staff Policy—Formation of a
New Board of Admiralty—The Command of the Home Fleets—Sir Arthur
Wilson’s Retirement—A Digression Forward—Captain Pakenham’s
Sea-going Record—Rear-Admiral Beatty—The Naval Secretary—Prince
Louis of Battenberg Becomes Second Sea Lord—The War Staff—Military
Education and Staff Training—Captains of Ships and Captains of
War—Fifteen Years and Only Thirty Months.
Mr. McKenna and I changed guard with strict punctilio. In the morning he
came over to the Home Office and I introduced him to the officials
there. In the afternoon I went over to the Admiralty; he presented his
Board and principal officers and departmental heads to me, and then took
his leave. I knew he felt greatly his change of office, but no one would
have divined it from his manner. As soon as he had gone I convened a
formal meeting of the Board, at which the Secretary read the new Letters
Patent constituting me its head, and I thereupon in the words of the
Order-in-Council became “responsible to Crown and Parliament for all the
business of the Admiralty.” I was to endeavour to discharge this
responsibility for the four most memorable years of my life.
The state of Admiralty business was as follows:—The Estimates and plans
for the financial year 1912–13 were far advanced: the programme had been
settled and the designs of the vessels only awaited final approval. We
were to lay down three battleships, one battle-cruiser, two light
cruisers (“Dartmouths”), one smaller light cruiser (a “Blonde”), the
usual flotilla of twenty destroyers and a number of submarines and
ancillary craft. The Estimates embodying this policy had to be passed by
the Cabinet at the latest by the end of February, and presented to the
House of Commons in the utmost detail in March.
But a great uncertainty hung over all these plans. A continued
succession of rumours and reports from many sources, and of hints and
allusions in the German Press, foreshadowed a further German naval
increase. This, following upon all that had gone before and coming at a
moment when relations were so tense, must certainly aggravate the
situation. It would inevitably compel us to take important additional
counter-measures. What these counter-measures would have to be, could
not be decided till the text of the new German Navy Law was known to us.
It was clear, however, from the information received, that it was not
only to be an increase in new construction but in the number of
squadrons or vessels maintained in a state of instant and constant
readiness.
In addition to these complications were a number of naval questions of
prime importance which I conceived required new treatment. First, the
War Plans of the Fleet, which up to that moment had been based upon the
principle of close blockade. Second, the organisation of the fleets with
a view to increasing their instantly ready strength. Third, measures to
guard against all aspects of surprise in the event of a sudden attack.
Fourth, the formation of a Naval War Staff. Fifth, the concerting of the
War Plans of the Navy and the Army by close co-operation of the two
departments. Sixth, further developments in design to increase the gun
power of our new ships in all classes. Seventh, changes in the high
commands of the Fleet and in the composition of the Board of Admiralty.
To all these matters I addressed myself in constant secret consultations
with the principal persons concerned in each. For the present, however,
I arrived at no important decisions, but laboured continually to check
and correct the opinions with which I had arrived at the Admiralty by
the expert information which on every subject was now at my disposal.
With the agreement of the Sea Lords I gave certain directions on minor
points immediately. The flotilla of destroyers sanctioned in the 1911–12
Estimates would not have been let out to contract till the very end of
the financial year. We now accelerated these twenty boats (the “L’s”) by
four months, and thus, though we could not possibly foresee it, they
were almost all fully commissioned just in time for the great review and
mobilization of the Fleet which preceded the outbreak of war. I gave,
moreover, certain personal directions to enable me “to sleep quietly in
my bed.” The naval magazines were to be effectively guarded under the
direct charge of the Admiralty. The continuous attendance of naval
officers, additional to that of the resident clerks, was provided at the
Admiralty, so that at any hour of the day or night, weekdays, Sundays,
or holidays, there would never be a moment lost in giving the alarm; and
one of the Sea Lords was always to be on duty in or near the Admiralty
building to receive it. Upon the wall behind my chair I had an open case
fitted, within whose folding doors spread a large chart of the North
Sea. On this chart every day a Staff Officer marked with flags the
position of the German Fleet. Never once was this ceremony omitted until
the War broke out, and the great maps, covering the whole of one side of
the War Room, began to function. I made a rule to look at my chart once
every day when I first entered my room. I did this less to keep myself
informed, for there were many other channels of information, than in
order to inculcate in myself and those working with me a sense of
ever-present danger. In this spirit we all worked.
I must now introduce the reader to the two great Admirals-of-the-Fleet,
Lord Fisher and Sir Arthur Wilson, whose outstanding qualities and
life’s work, afloat and at the Admiralty, added to and reacted upon by
the energies and patriotism of Lord Charles Beresford, had largely made
the Royal Navy what it was at this time. The names of both Fisher and
Wilson must often recur in these pages, for they played decisive parts
in the tale I have to tell.
I first met Lord Fisher at Biarritz in 1907. We stayed for a fortnight
as the guests of a common friend. He was then First Sea Lord and in the
height of his reign. We talked all day long and far into the nights. He
told me wonderful stories of the Navy and of his plans—all about
Dreadnoughts, all about submarines, all about the new education scheme
for every branch of the Navy, all about big guns, and splendid Admirals
and foolish miserable ones, and Nelson and the Bible, and finally the
island of Borkum. I remembered it all. I reflected on it often. I even
remembered the island of Borkum when my teacher had ceased to think so
much of it. At any rate, when I returned to my duties at the Colonial
Office I could have passed an examination on the policy of the then
Board of Admiralty.
For at least ten years all the most important steps taken to enlarge,
improve or modernise the Navy had been due to Fisher. The water-tube
boiler, the “all big gun ship,” the introduction of the submarine
(“Fisher’s toys,” as Lord Charles Beresford called them), the common
education scheme, the system of nucleus crews for ships in reserve, and
latterly—to meet the German rivalry—the concentration of the Fleets in
Home Waters, the scrapping of great quantities of ships of little
fighting power, the great naval programmes of 1908 and 1909, the advance
from the 12–inch to the 13.5–inch gun—all in the main were his.
In carrying through these far-reaching changes he had created violent
oppositions to himself in the Navy, and his own methods, in which he
gloried, were of a kind to excite bitter animosities, which he returned
and was eager to repay. He made it known, indeed he proclaimed, that
officers of whatever rank who opposed his policies would have their
professional careers ruined. As for traitors, i. e., those who struck at
him openly or secretly, “their wives should be widows, their children
fatherless, their homes a dunghill.” This he repeated again and again.
“Ruthless, relentless and remorseless” were words always on his lips,
and many grisly examples of Admirals and Captains eating out their
hearts “on the beach” showed that he meant what he said. He did not
hesitate to express his policy in the most unfavourable terms, as if to
challenge and defy his enemies and critics. “Favouritism,” he wrote in
the log of Dartmouth College, “is the secret of efficiency.” What he
meant by “favouritism” was selection without regard to seniority by a
discerning genius in the interests of the public; but the word
“favouritism” stuck. Officers were said to be “in the fish-pond”—unlucky
for them if they were not. He poured contempt upon the opinions and
arguments of those who did not agree with his schemes, and abused them
roundly at all times both by word and letter.
In the Royal Navy, however, there were a considerable number of officers
of social influence and independent means, many of whom became hostile
to Fisher. They had access to Parliament and to the Press. In sympathy
with them, though not with all their methods, was a much larger body of
good and proved sea officers. At the head of the whole opposition stood
Lord Charles Beresford, at that time Commander-in-Chief of the Channel
or principal Fleet. A deplorable schism was introduced into the Royal
Navy, which spread to every squadron and to every ship. There were
Fisher’s men and Beresford’s men. Whatever the First Sea Lord proposed
the Commander-in-Chief opposed, and through the whole of the Service
Captains and Lieutenants were encouraged to take one side or the other.
The argument was conducted with technicalities and with personalities.
Neither side was strong enough to crush the other. The Admiralty had its
backers in the Fleet, and the Fleet had its friends in the Admiralty:
both sides therefore had good information as to what was passing in the
other camp. The lamentable situation thus created might easily have
ruined the discipline of the Navy but for the fact that a third large
body of officers resolutely refused, at whatever cost to themselves, to
participate in the struggle. Silently and steadfastly they went about
their work till the storms of partisanship were past. To these officers
a debt is due.
There is no doubt whatever that Fisher was right in nine-tenths of what
he fought for. His great reforms sustained the power of the Royal Navy
at the most critical period in its history. He gave the Navy the kind of
shock which the British Army received at the time of the South African
War. After a long period of serene and unchallenged complacency, the
mutter of distant thunder could be heard. It was Fisher who hoisted the
storm-signal and beat all hands to quarters. He forced every department
of the Naval Service to review its position and question its own
existence. He shook them and beat them and cajoled them out of slumber
into intense activity. But the Navy was not a pleasant place while this
was going on. The “Band of Brothers” tradition which Nelson had handed
down was for the time, but only for the time, discarded; and behind the
open hostility of chieftains flourished the venomous intrigues of their
followers.
I have asked myself whether all this could not have been avoided;
whether we could not have had the Fisher reforms without the Fisher
methods? My conviction is that Fisher was maddened by the difficulties
and obstructions which he encountered, and became violent in the process
of fighting so hard at every step. In the government of a great fighting
service there must always be the combination of the political and
professional authorities. A strong First Sea Lord, to carry out a
vigorous policy, needs the assistance of a Minister, who alone can
support him and defend him. The authority of both is more than doubled
by their union. Each can render the other services of supreme importance
when they are both effective factors. Working in harmony, they multiply
each other. By the resultant concentration of combined power, no room or
chance is given to faction. For good or for ill what they decide
together in the interests of the Service must be loyally accepted.
Unhappily, the later years of Fisher’s efforts were years in which the
Admiralty was ruled by two Ministers, both of whom were desperately and
even mortally ill. Although most able and most upright public men, both
Lord Cawdor and Lord Tweedmouth, First Lords from 1904 to 1908, were
afflicted with extreme ill-health. Moreover, neither was in the House of
Commons and able himself, by exposition in the responsible Chamber, to
proclaim in unquestioned accents the policy which the Admiralty would
follow and which the House of Commons should ratify. When in 1908 Mr.
McKenna became First Lord, there was a change. Gifted with remarkable
clearness of mind and resolute courage, enjoying in the prime of life
the fullest vigour of his faculties, and having acquired a strong
political position in the House of Commons, he was able to supply an
immediate steadying influence. But it was too late for Fisher. The
Furies were upon his track. The opposition and hatreds had already grown
too strong. The schism in the Navy continued, fierce and open.
The incident which is most commonly associated with the end of this part
of his career is that of the “Bacon letters.” Captain Bacon was one of
the ablest officers in the Navy and a strong Fisherite. In 1906 he had
been serving in the Mediterranean under Lord Charles Beresford. Fisher
had asked him to write to him from time to time and keep him informed of
all that passed. This he did in letters in themselves of much force and
value, but open to the reproach of containing criticisms of his
immediate commander. This in itself might have escaped unnoticed; but
the First Sea Lord used to print in beautiful and carefully considered
type, letters, notes and memoranda on technical subjects for the
instruction and encouragement of the faithful. Delighted at the cogency
of the arguments in the Bacon letters, he had them printed in 1909 and
circulated fairly widely throughout the Admiralty. A copy fell at length
into hostile hands and was swiftly conveyed to a London evening
newspaper. The First Sea Lord was accused of encouraging subordinates in
disloyalty to their immediate commanders, and Captain Bacon himself was
so grievously smitten in the opinion of the Service that he withdrew
into private life and his exceptional abilities were lost to the Navy,
though, as will be seen, only for a time. The episode was fatal, and at
the beginning of 1910 Sir John Fisher quitted the Admiralty and passed,
as every one believed, finally into retirement and the House of Lords,
crowned with achievements, loaded with honours, but pursued by much
obloquy, amid the triumph of his foes.
As soon as I knew for certain that I was to go to the Admiralty I sent
for Fisher: he was abroad in sunshine. We had not seen each other since
the dispute about the Naval Estimates of 1909. He conceived himself
bound in loyalty to Mr. McKenna, but as soon as he learned that I had
had nothing to do with the decision which had led to our changing
offices, he hastened home. We passed three days together in the comfort
of Reigate Priory.
Although my education had been mainly military, I had followed closely
every detail of the naval controversies of the previous five years in
the Cabinet, in Parliament, and latterly in the Committee of Imperial
Defence; and I had certain main ideas of what I was going to do and
what, indeed, I was sent to the Admiralty to do. I intended to prepare
for an attack by Germany as if it might come next day. I intended to
raise the Fleet to the highest possible strength and secure that all
that strength was immediately ready. I was pledged to create a War
Staff. I was resolved to have all arrangements made at once in the
closest concert with the military to provide for the transportation of a
British Army to France should war come. I had strong support from the
War Office and the Foreign Office: I had the Prime Minister and the
Chancellor of the Exchequer at my back. Moreover, every one who knew the
crisis through which we had passed had been profoundly alarmed. In these
circumstances it only remained to study the methods, and to choose the
men.
I found Fisher a veritable volcano of knowledge and of inspiration; and
as soon as he learnt what my main purpose was, he passed into a state of
vehement eruption. It must indeed have been an agony to him to wait and
idly watch from the calm Lake of Lucerne through the anxious weeks of
the long-drawn Agadir crisis, with his life’s work, his beloved Navy,
liable at any moment to be put to the supreme test. Once he began, he
could hardly stop. I plied him with questions, and he poured out ideas.
It was always a joy to me to talk to him on these great matters, but
most of all was he stimulating in all that related to the design of
ships. He also talked brilliantly about Admirals, but here one had to
make a heavy discount on account of the feuds. My intention was to hold
the balance even, and while adopting in the main the Fisher policy, to
insist upon an absolute cessation of the vendetta.
Knowing pretty well, all that has been written in the preceding pages, I
began our conversations with no thought of Fisher’s recall. But by the
Sunday night the power of the man was deeply borne in upon me, and I had
almost made up my mind to do what I did three years later, and place him
again at the head of the Naval Service. It was not the outcry that I
feared; that I felt strong enough at this time to face. But it was the
revival and continuance of the feuds; and it was clear from his temper
that this would be inevitable. Then, too, I was apprehensive of his age.
I could not feel complete confidence in the poise of the mind at 71. All
the way up to London the next morning I was on the brink of saying “Come
and help me,” and had he by a word seemed to wish to return, I would
surely have spoken. But he maintained a proper dignity, and in an hour
we were in London. Other reflections supervened, adverse counsels were
not lacking, and in a few days I had definitely made up my mind to look
elsewhere for a First Sea Lord. I wonder whether I was right or wrong.
For a man who for so many years filled great official positions and was
charged with so much secret and deadly business, Lord Fisher appeared
amazingly voluminous and reckless in correspondence. When for the
purposes of this work and for the satisfaction of his biographers I
collected all the letters I had received from the Admiral in his own
hand, they amounted when copied to upwards of 300 closely typewritten
pages. In the main they repeat again and again the principal naval
conceptions and doctrines with which his life had been associated.
Although it would be easy to show many inconsistencies and apparent
contradictions, the general message is unchanging. The letters are also
presented in an entertaining guise, interspersed with felicitous and
sometimes recondite quotations, with flashing phrases and images, with
mordant jokes and corrosive personalities. All were dashed off red-hot
as they left his mind, his strong pen galloping along in the wake of the
imperious thought. He would often audaciously fling out on paper
thoughts which other people would hardly admit to their own minds. It is
small wonder that his turbulent passage left so many foes foaming in his
wake. The wonder is that he did not shipwreck himself a score of times.
The buoyancy of his genius alone supported the burden. Indeed, in the
process of years the profuse and imprudent violence of his letters
became, in a sense, its own protection. People came to believe that this
was the breezy style appropriate to our guardians of the deep, and the
old Admiral swept forward on his stormy course.
To me, in this period of preparation, the arrival of his letters was
always a source of lively interest and pleasure. I was regaled with
eight or ten closely-written double pages, fastened together with a
little pearl pin or a scrap of silken ribbon, and containing every kind
of news and counsel, varying from blistering reproach to the highest
forms of inspiration and encouragement. From the very beginning his
letters were couched in an affectionate and paternal style. “My beloved
Winston,” they began, ending usually with a variation of “Yours to a
cinder,” “Yours till Hell freezes,” or “Till charcoal sprouts,” followed
by a P.S. and two or three more pages of pregnant and brilliant matter.
I have found it impossible to re-read these letters without sentiments
of strong regard for him, his fiery soul, his volcanic energy, his deep
creative mind, his fierce outspoken hatreds, his love of England. Alas,
there was a day when Hell froze and charcoal sprouted and friendship was
reduced to cinders; when “My beloved Winston” had given place to “First
Lord: I can no longer be your colleague.” I am glad to be able to
chronicle that this was not the end of our long and intimate
relationship.
* * * * *
Sir Arthur Wilson, the First Sea Lord, received me with his customary
dignified simplicity. He could not, of course, be wholly unaware of the
main causes which had brought me to the Admiralty. In conversation with
the other Sea Lords when the well-kept secret of my appointment first
reached the Admiralty, he said: “We are to have new masters: if they
wish us to serve them, we will do so, and if not, they will find others
to carry on the work.” I had only met him hitherto at the conferences of
the Committee of Imperial Defence, and my opinions were divided between
an admiration for all I heard of his character and a total disagreement
with what I understood to be his strategic views. He considered the
creation of a War Staff quite unnecessary: I had come to set one up. He
did not approve of the War Office plans for sending an army to France in
the event of war: I considered it my duty to perfect these arrangements
to the smallest detail. He was, as I believed, still an advocate of a
close blockade of the German ports, which to my lay or military mind the
torpedo seemed already to have rendered impossible.[5] These were large
and vital differences. He on his side probably thought we had got into
an unnecessary panic over the Agadir crisis, and that we did not
properly understand the strength and mobility of the British Fleet nor
the true character of British strategic power. He was due to retire for
age from the Service in three or four months, unless his tenure had been
extended, while I, for my part, came to the Admiralty with a very clear
intention to have an entirely new Board of my own choosing. In these
circumstances our association was bound to be bleak.
This is, however, the moment for me to give an impression of this
striking naval personality. He was, without any exception, the most
selfless man I have ever met or even read of. He wanted nothing, and he
feared nothing—absolutely nothing. Whether he was commanding the British
Fleet or repairing an old motor-car, he was equally keen, equally
interested, equally content. To step from a great office into absolute
retirement, to return from retirement to the pinnacle of naval power,
were transitions which produced no change in the beat of that constant
heart. Everything was duty. It was not merely that nothing else
mattered. There was nothing else. One did one’s duty as well as one
possibly could, be it great or small, and naturally one deserved no
reward. This had been the spirit in which he had lived his long life
afloat, and which by his example he had spread far and wide through the
ranks of the Navy. It made him seem very unsympathetic on many
occasions, both to officers and men. Orders were orders, whether they
terminated an officer’s professional career or led him on to fame,
whether they involved the most pleasant or the most disagreeable work;
and he would snap his teeth and smile his wintry smile to all complaints
and to sentiment and emotion in every form. Never once did I see his
composure disturbed. He never opened up, never unbent. Never once, until
a very dark day for me, did I learn that my work had met with favour in
his eyes.
All the same, for all his unsympathetic methods, “Tug,” as he was
generally called (because he was always working, i. e., pulling,
hauling, tugging), or alternatively “old ’Ard ’Art,” was greatly loved
in the Fleet. Men would do hard and unpleasant work even when they
doubted its necessity, because he had ordered it and it was “his way.”
He had served as a midshipman in the Crimean War. Every one knew the
story of his V.C., when the square broke at Tamai in the Soudan, and
when he was seen, with the ammunition of his Gatling exhausted, knocking
the Dervish spearmen over one after another with his fists, using the
broken hilt of his sword as a sort of knuckle duster. Stories were told
of his apparent insensibility to weather and climate. He would wear a
thin monkey-jacket in mid-winter in the North Sea with apparent comfort
while every one else was shivering in great coats. He would stand
bareheaded under a tropical sun without ill effects. He had a strong
inventive turn of mind, and considerable mechanical knowledge. The
system of counter-mining in use for forty years in the Navy, and the
masthead semaphore which continued till displaced by wireless
telegraphy, were both products of his ingenuity. He was an experienced
and masterly commander of a Fleet at sea. In addition to this he
expressed himself with great clearness and thoroughness on paper, many
of his documents being extended arguments of exact detail and widely
comprehensive scope. He impressed me from the first as a man of the
highest quality and stature, but, as I thought, dwelling too much in the
past of naval science, not sufficiently receptive of new ideas when
conditions were changing so rapidly, and, of course, tenacious and
unyielding in the last degree.
After we had had several preliminary talks and I found we were not
likely to reach an agreement, I sent him a minute about the creation of
a Naval War Staff, which raised an unmistakable issue. He met it by a
powerfully reasoned and unqualified refusal, and I then determined to
form a new Board of Admiralty without delay. The Lords of the Admiralty
hold quasi-ministerial appointments, and it was of course necessary to
put my proposals before the Prime Minister and obtain his assent.
_Mr. Churchill to the Prime Minister_.
H.M.S. _Enchantress_,
PORTSMOUTH.
_November 5, 1911._
The enclosed memorandum from Sir A. Wilson is decisive in its
opposition, not only to any particular scheme, but against the whole
principle of a War Staff for the Navy. Ottley’s[6] rejoinder, which I
also send you, shows that it would not be difficult to continue the
argument. But I feel that this might easily degenerate into personal
controversy, and would, in any case, be quite unavailing. I like Sir
A. Wilson personally, and should be very sorry to run the risk of
embittering relations which are now pleasant. I therefore propose to
take no public action during his tenure.
If Wilson retires in the ordinary course in March, I shall be left
without a First Sea Lord in the middle of the passage of the
Estimates, and his successor will not be able to take any real
responsibility for them. It is necessary, therefore, that the change
should be made in January at the latest.
I could, if it were imperative, propose to you a new Board for
submission to the King at once. The field of selection for the first
place is narrow; and since I have, with a good deal of reluctance,
abandoned the idea of bringing Fisher back, no striking appointment is
possible. I may, however, just as well enjoy the advantage of
reserving a final choice for another month. At present, therefore, I
will only say that Prince Louis is certainly the best man to be Second
Sea Lord, that I find myself in cordial agreement with him on nearly
every important question of naval policy, and that he will accept the
appointment gladly.... I should thus hope to start in the New Year
with a united and progressive Board, and with the goodwill of both the
factions whose animosities have done so much harm.
Meanwhile I am elaborating the scheme of a War Staff.
_Mr. Churchill to the Prime Minister._
_November 16, 1911._
I have now to put before you my proposals for a new Board of
Admiralty, and the changes consequent thereupon. Having now seen all
the principal officers who might be considered candidates for such a
post, I pronounce decidedly in favour of Sir Francis Bridgeman as
First Sea Lord. He is a fine sailor, with the full confidence of the
Service afloat, and with the aptitude for working with and through a
staff, well developed. If, as would no doubt be the case, he should
bring Captain de Bartolomé as his Naval Assistant, I am satisfied that
the work of this office would proceed smoothly and with despatch. I
have discussed the principal questions of strategy, administration and
finance with him, and believe that we are in general agreement on
fundamental principles. If you approve, I will write to Sir Francis
and enter more fully into these matters in connection with an
assumption by him of these new duties.
This appointment harmonises, personally and administratively, with
that of the new Second Sea Lord, Prince Louis of Battenberg, of whom I
have already written to you, and of whose assistance I have the
highest expectations. Rear-Admiral Briggs, the Controller and Third
Sea Lord, has, after a year, just begun to acquire a complete
knowledge of his very extensive department, and I do not think it
necessary to transfer him at the present time. He will be the only
naval member of the old Board to remain. Rear-Admiral Madden is, in
any case, leaving on January 5, and I am advised from all quarters,
including both the proposed First and Second Sea Lords, that the best
man to fill his place is Captain Pakenham. This officer, who is very
highly thought of for his intellectual attainments, has also the rare
distinction of having served throughout the Russo-Japanese War,
including the battle of the Tsushima.
The Home Fleet, which becomes vacant, has not, unhappily, any
candidate of clear and pre-eminent qualifications. Admiral Jellicoe is
not yet sufficiently in command of the confidence of the Sea Service,
to justify what would necessarily be a very startling promotion. I
shall, however, be taking the perfectly straightforward and
unexceptionable course in placing Vice-Admiral Sir George Callaghan,
the present Second in Command, who has been in almost daily control of
the largest manœuvres of the Home Fleet, and who has previously been
Second in Command in the Mediterranean, in the place of Sir F.
Bridgeman. Sir John Jellicoe will be his Second in Command, and we
shall thus be able to see what fitness he will develop for the
succession.
It appears to me not merely important but necessary that these changes
should operate without delay. The draft Estimates have all arrived for
discussion, and a month of the most severe work, governing the whole
future policy of the next two years, awaits the Board of Admiralty.
This task can only be satisfactorily discharged if it is undertaken by
men who come together with consenting minds, and who will find
themselves responsible to the Cabinet and to Parliament for the
immediate consequences of their decisions. I would therefore ask you
to authorise me to approach all parties concerned without delay, and
unless some unexpected hitch occurs I shall hope to submit the list to
the King not later than Wednesday next. The New Board would thus be
fully constituted before the end of the present month.
Afloat the decisive appointment was that of Sir John Jellicoe to be
second in command of the Home Fleet. He thus in effect passed over the
heads of four or five of the most important senior Admirals on the
active list and became virtually designated for the supreme command in
the near future.
The announcement of these changes (November 28) created a considerable
sensation in the House of Commons when, late at night, they became
known. All the Sea Lords, except one, had been replaced by new men. I
was immediately interrogated, “Had they resigned, or been told to go?”
and so on. I gave briefly such explanations as were necessary. At this
time I was very strong, because most of those who knew the inner history
of the Agadir crisis were troubled about the Fleet, and it was well
known that I had been sent to the Admiralty to make a new and a vehement
effort.
Sir Arthur Wilson and I parted on friendly, civil, but at the same time
cool terms. He showed not the least resentment at the short curtailment
of his tenure. He was as good-tempered and as distant as ever. Only once
did he show the slightest sign of vehemence. That was when I told him
that the Prime Minister was willing to submit his name to the King for a
Peerage. He disengaged himself from this with much vigour. What would he
do with such a thing? It would be ridiculous. However, His Majesty
resolved to confer upon him the Order of Merit, and this he was finally
persuaded to accept. On his last night in office he gave a dinner to the
new Sea Lords in the true “band of brothers” style, and then retired to
Norfolk. I could not help thinking uncomfortably of the famous Tenniel
cartoon, “Dropping the Pilot,” where the inexperienced and impulsive
German Emperor is depicted carelessly watching the venerable figure of
Bismarck descending the ladder. Nevertheless I had acted on high public
grounds and on those alone, and I fortified myself with them.
As will be seen in its proper place, Sir Arthur Wilson came back to the
Admiralty three years later, and worked with Lord Fisher and me during
the six months of our association in the war. When Lord Fisher resigned
in May, 1915, I invited Sir Arthur to take up the duties of First Sea
Lord and he consented to do so. On learning, however, a few days later
that I was to leave the Admiralty, he wrote to Mr. Asquith refusing to
undertake the task under any other First Lord but me. Here is his
letter:—
_May 19, 1915._
DEAR MR. ASQUITH,—
In view of the reports in the papers this morning as to the probable
reconstruction of the Government, I think I ought to tell you that
although I agreed to undertake the office of First Sea Lord under Mr.
Churchill because it appeared to me to be the best means of
maintaining continuity of policy under the unfortunate circumstances
that have arisen, I am not prepared to undertake the duties under any
new First Lord, as the strain under such circumstances would be far
beyond my strength.
Believe me,
Yours truly,
A. K. WILSON.
At that time I hardly seemed to have a friend in the official or
Parliamentary world. All the press were throwing the blame of the
Dardanelles entanglement and of many other things upon me, and I was
everywhere represented as a rash, presumptuous person with whom no Board
of Admiralty could work. Sir Arthur had never previously given me any
sign of approval, though, of course, we had laboured together day after
day. I was, therefore, astounded to learn what he had done. It came as
an absolute surprise to me: and I do not mind saying that I felt as
proud as a young officer mentioned for the first time in dispatches. I
thought it my duty, however, to try to overcome his objections, as I
knew the Prime Minister wanted him to take the post. But it was all in
vain. He stuck to his opinion that he could do it with me and with
nobody else. I felt deeply touched. There was nothing to be touched
about, he observed, “You know all the moves on the board. I should only
have to put the brake on from time to time. I could not possibly manage
with anyone else.” And that was the end of it. He continued working in a
subordinate position at the Admiralty till the end of the war. I hardly
ever saw him afterwards; but I have preserved a memory which is very
precious to me.
The new Fourth Sea Lord was an officer of singular firmness of
character. He possessed a unique experience of naval war. Since Nelson
himself, no British naval officer had been so long at sea in time of war
on a ship of war without setting foot on land. Captain Pakenham had been
fourteen months afloat in the battleship _Asahi_ during the war between
Russia and Japan. Although this vessel was frequently in harbour, he
would not leave it for fear she might sail without him; and there alone,
the sole European in a great ship’s company of valiant, reticent,
inscrutable Japanese, he had gone through the long vigil outside Port
Arthur, with its repeated episodes of minefields and bombardments, till
the final battle in the Sea of Japan. Always faultlessly attired, with
stiff white collar and an immovable eye-glass, he matched the Japanese
with a punctilio and reserve the equal of their own, and finally
captivated their martial spirit and won their unstinted and outspoken
admiration. Admiral Togo has related how the English officer, as the
_Asahi_ was going into action at the last great battle, when the heavy
shells had already begun to strike the ship, remained impassive alone on
the open after-bridge making his notes and taking his observations of
the developing action for the reports which he was to send to his
Government; and acclaiming him, with Japanese chivalry, recommended him
to the Emperor for the highest honour this warlike and knightly people
could bestow.
The unique sea-going record in time of war on a ship of war which
Captain Pakenham brought to the Admiralty has been maintained by him to
this day, and to fourteen months of sea-going service with the Japanese
Fleet, he may now add fifty-two months constant service with the
Battle-Cruisers, during which time it is credibly reported that he never
on any occasion at sea lay down to rest otherwise than fully dressed,
collared and booted, ready at any moment of the night or day.
A few weeks after my arrival at the Admiralty I was told that among
several officers of Flag rank who wished to see me was Rear-Admiral
Beatty. I had never met him before, but I had the following impressions
about him. First, that he was the youngest Flag Officer in the Fleet.
Second, that he had commanded the white gunboat which had come up the
Nile as close as possible to support the 21st Lancers when we made the
charge at Omdurman. Third, that he had seen a lot of fighting on land
with the army, and that consequently he had military as well as naval
experience. Fourth, that he came of a hard-riding stock; his father had
been in my own regiment, the 4th Hussars, and I had often heard him
talked of when I first joined. The Admiral, I knew, was a very fine
horseman, with what is called “an eye for country.” Fifth, that there
was much talk in naval circles of his having been pushed on too fast.
Such were the impressions aroused in my mind by the name of this
officer, and I record them with minuteness because the decisions which I
had the honour of taking in regard to him were most serviceable to the
Royal Navy and to the British arms.
I was, however, advised about him at the Admiralty in a decisively
adverse sense. He had got on too fast, he had many interests ashore. His
heart it was said was not wholly in the Service. He had been offered an
appointment in the Atlantic Fleet suited to his rank as Rear-Admiral. He
had declined this appointment—a very serious step for a Naval Officer to
take when appointments were few in proportion to candidates—and he
should in consequence not be offered any further employment. It would be
contrary to precedent to make a further offer. He had already been
unemployed for eighteen months, and would probably be retired in the
ordinary course at the expiration of the full three years’ unemployment.
But my first meeting with the Admiral induced me immediately to
disregard this unfortunate advice. He became at once my Naval Secretary
(or Private Secretary, as the appointment was then styled). Working thus
side by side in rooms which communicated, we perpetually discussed
during the next fifteen months the problems of a naval war with Germany.
It became increasingly clear to me that he viewed questions of naval
strategy and tactics in a different light from the average naval
officer: he approached them, as it seemed to me, much more as a soldier
would. His war experiences on land had illuminated the facts he had
acquired in his naval training. He was no mere instrumentalist. He did
not think of _matériel_ as an end in itself but only as a means. He
thought of war problems in their unity by land, sea and air. His mind
had been rendered quick and supple by the situations of polo and the
hunting-field, and enriched by varied experiences against the enemy on
Nile gunboats, and ashore. It was with equal pleasure and profit that I
discussed with him our naval problem, now from this angle, now from
that; and I was increasingly struck with the shrewd and profound
sagacity of his comments expressed in language singularly free from
technical jargon.
I had no doubts whatever when the command of the Battle-Cruiser Squadron
fell vacant in the spring of 1913, in appointing him over the heads of
all to this incomparable command, the nucleus as it proved to be of the
famous Battle-Cruiser Fleet—the strategic cavalry of the Royal Navy,
that supreme combination of speed and power to which the thoughts of the
Admiralty were continuously directed. And when two years later (February
3, 1915) I visited him on board the _Lion_, with the scars of victorious
battle fresh upon her from the action of the Dogger Bank, I heard from
his Captains and his Admirals the expression of their respectful but
intense enthusiasm for their leader. Well do I remember how, as I was
leaving the ship, the usually imperturbable Admiral Pakenham caught me
by the sleeve, “First Lord, I wish to speak to you in private,” and the
restrained passion in his voice as he said, “Nelson has come again.”
Those words often recurred to my mind.
So much of my work in endeavouring to prepare the Fleet for war was
dependent upon the guidance and help I received from Prince Louis of
Battenberg, who, taking it as a whole, was my principal counsellor, as
Second Sea Lord from January, 1912, to March, 1913 (when Sir Francis
Bridgeman’s health temporarily failed), and as First Sea Lord
thenceforward to the end of October, 1914, that it is necessary to give
some description of this remarkable Prince and British sailor. All the
more is this necessary since the accident of his parentage struck him
down in the opening months of the Great War and terminated his long
professional career.
Prince Louis was a child of the Royal Navy. From his earliest years he
had been bred to the sea. The deck of a British warship was his home.
All his interest was centred in the British Fleet. So far from his
exalted rank having helped him it had hindered his career: up to a
certain point no doubt it had been of assistance, but after that it had
been a positive drawback. In consequence he had spent an exceptionally
large proportion of his forty years’ service afloat usually in the less
agreeable commands. One had heard at Malta how he used to bring his
Cruiser Squadron into that small, crowded harbour at speed and then in
the nick of time, with scarcely a hundred yards to spare, by dropping
his anchors, checking on his cables and going full speed astern, bring
it safely into station. He had a far wider knowledge of war by land and
sea and of the Continent of Europe than most of the other Admirals I
have known. His brother, as King of Bulgaria, had shown military
aptitudes of a very high order at the Battle of Slivnitza, and he
himself was deeply versed in every detail, practical and theoretic, of
the British Naval Service. It was not without good reason that he had
been appointed under Lord Fisher to be Head of the British Naval
Intelligence Department, that vital ganglion of our organisation. He was
a thoroughly trained and accomplished Staff Officer, with a gift of
clear and lucid statement and all that thoroughness and patient industry
which we have never underestimated in the German race.
It was recounted of him that on one occasion, when he visited Kiel with
King Edward, a German Admiral in high command had reproached him with
serving in the British Fleet, whereat Prince Louis, stiffening, had
replied “Sir, when I joined the Royal Navy in the year 1868, the German
Empire did not exist.”
The part which he played in the events with which I am dealing will be
recorded as the story unfolds.
Our first labour was the creation of the War Staff. All the details of
this were worked out by Prince Louis and approved by the First Sea Lord.
I also resorted to Sir Douglas Haig, at that time in command at
Aldershot. The general furnished me with a masterly paper setting forth
the military doctrine of Staff organisation and constituting in many
respects a formidable commentary on existing naval methods. Armed with
these various opinions, I presented my conclusions to the public in
January, 1912, in a document of which the first two paragraphs may be
repeated here. They were, as will be seen, designed so far as possible
to disarm the prejudices of the naval service.
1. In establishing a War Staff for the Navy it is necessary to observe
the broad differences of character and circumstances which distinguish
naval from military problems. War on land varies in every country
according to numberless local conditions, and each new theatre, like
each separate battlefield, requires a special study. A whole series of
intricate arrangements must be thought out and got ready for each
particular case; and these are expanded and refined continuously by
every increase in the size of armies, and by every step towards the
perfection of military science. The means by which superior forces can
be brought to decisive points in good condition and at the right time
are no whit less vital, and involve far more elaborate processes than
the strategic choice of those points, or the actual conduct of the
fighting. The sea, on the other hand, is all one, and, though ever
changing, always the same. Every ship is self-contained and
self-propelled. The problems of transport and supply, the infinite
peculiarities of topography which are the increasing study of the
general staffs of Europe, do not affect the naval service except in an
occasional and limited degree. The main part of the British Fleet in
sufficient strength to seek a general battle is always ready to
proceed to sea without any mobilisation of reserves as soon as steam
is raised. Ships or fleets of ships are capable of free and continuous
movement for many days and nights together, and travel at least as far
in an hour as an army can march in a day. Every vessel is in instant
communication with its fleet and with the Admiralty, and all can be
directed from the ports where they are stationed on any sea points
chosen for massing, by a short and simple order. Unit efficiency, that
is to say, the individual fighting power of each vessel and each man,
is in the sea service for considerable periods entirely independent of
all external arrangements, and unit efficiency at sea, far more even
than on land, is the prime and final factor, without which the
combinations of strategy and tactics are only the preliminaries of
defeat, but with which even faulty dispositions can be swiftly and
decisively retrieved. For these and other similar reasons a Naval War
Staff does not require to be designed on the same scale or in the same
form as the General Staff of the Army.
2. Naval war is at once more simple and more intense than war on land.
The executive action and control of fleet and squadron Commanders is
direct and personal in a far stronger degree than that of Generals in
the field, especially under modern conditions. The art of handling a
great fleet on important occasions with deft and sure judgment is the
supreme gift of the Admiral, and practical seamanship must never be
displaced from its position as the first qualification of every
sailor. The formation of a War Staff does not mean the setting up of
new standards of professional merit or the opening of a road of
advancement to a different class of officers. It is to be the means of
preparing and training those officers who arrive, or are likely to
arrive, by the excellence of their sea service at stations of high
responsibility, for dealing with the more extended problems which
await them there. It is to be the means of sifting, developing, and
applying the results of actual experience in history and present
practice, and of preserving them as a general stock of reasoned
opinion available as an aid and as a guide for all who are called upon
to determine, in peace or war, the naval policy of the country. It is
to be a brain far more comprehensive than that of any single man,
however gifted, and tireless and unceasing in its action, applied
continuously to the scientific and speculative study of naval strategy
and preparation. It is to be an instrument capable of formulating any
decision which has been taken, or may be taken, by the Executive in
terms of precise and exhaustive detail.
I never ceased to labour at the formation of a true General Staff for
the Navy. In May, 1914, basing myself on the report of a Committee which
I had set up a year before, I drafted a fairly complete scheme for the
further development of Staff training. I quote a salient passage:[7]
It is necessary to draw a distinction between the measures required to
secure a general diffusion of military knowledge among naval officers
and the definite processes by which Staff Officers are trained. The
first may be called “Military Education,” and the second “War Staff
Training.” They require to be treated separately and not mixed
together as in the report of the Committee. Both must again be
distinguished from all questions of administration, of material, and
of non-military education and training. The _application_ of fighting
power can thus be separated from its development. We are not now
concerned with the forging of the weapon, but only with its use.
‘As early as possible in his service the mind of the young officer
must be turned to the broad principles of war by sea and land. His
interest must be awakened. He must be put in touch with the right
books and must be made to feel the importance of the military aspect
of his profession....’
But it takes a generation to form a General Staff. No wave of the wand
can create those habits of mind in seniors on which the efficiency and
even the reality of a Staff depends. Young officers can be trained, but
thereafter they have to rise step by step in the passage of time to
positions of authority in the Service. The dead weight of professional
opinion was adverse. They had got on well enough without it before. They
did not want a special class of officer professing to be more brainy
than the rest. Sea-time should be the main qualification, and next to
that technical aptitudes. Thus when I went to the Admiralty I found that
there was no moment in the career and training of a naval officer, when
he was obliged to read a single book about naval war, or pass even the
most rudimentary examination in naval history. The Royal Navy had made
no important contribution to Naval literature. The standard work on Sea
Power was written by an American Admiral.[8] The best accounts of
British sea fighting and naval strategy were compiled by an English
civilian.[9] ‘The Silent Service’ was not mute because it was absorbed
in thought and study, but because it was weighted down by its daily
routine and by its ever complicating and diversifying technique. We had
competent administrators, brilliant experts of every description,
unequalled navigators, good disciplinarians, fine sea-officers, brave
and devoted hearts: but at the outset of the conflict we had more
captains of ships than captains of war. In this will be found the
explanation of many untoward events. At least fifteen years of
consistent policy were required to give the Royal Navy that widely
extended outlook upon war problems and of war situations without which
seamanship, gunnery, instrumentalisms of every kind, devotion of the
highest order, could not achieve their due reward.
Fifteen years! And we were only to have thirty months!