THE NORTH SEA FRONT
‘The greatest impediment to action is not discussion, but the want of
that knowledge which is gained by discussion preparatory to action.’
PERICLES.
Our First Line of Defence—The Great Change of Front—Close Blockade and
an Oversea Base—The New War-Plans: Distant Blockade—Manœuvre
Experiments, 1912 and 1913—Prowling Squadrons—The Perils of
Surprise—The Limits of Precaution—A Bolt from the Blue—Cordons—The
Limits of German Morality—The Invasion Problem and the
Expeditionary Force—The Invasion Committee—First Lord’s Notes—The
South and East Fronts Compared—Raid or Invasion—Impossibility of
Close Blockade—The Patrol Flotillas—The Coastal Watch—A Bolt from
the Grey—Possible German Objectives for Raids—Assumptions and
Conclusions—Difficulties of Preparation—The Initial Dangers the
Greatest—Letter to a Friend—The Other Side.
The traditional war policy of the Admiralty grew up during the prolonged
wars and antagonisms with France. It consisted in establishing
immediately upon the outbreak of war a close blockade of the enemy’s
ports and naval bases by means of flotillas of strong small craft
supported by cruisers with superior battle fleets in reserve. The
experience of 200 years had led all naval strategists to agree on this
fundamental principle, ‘Our first line of defence is the enemy’s ports.’
When the torpedo was invented, the French tried to frustrate this
well-known British policy by building large numbers of torpedo-boats,
and the Admiralty, after some years, retorted by building torpedo-boat
destroyers. These destroyers fulfilled two conditions: first, they were
large enough to keep the seas in most weathers and to operate across the
Channel for sufficient periods; secondly, their guns were heavy enough
to destroy or dominate the French torpedo-boats. Thus, in spite of the
advent of the torpedo, we preserved our power to maintain stronger
flotillas in close proximity to the enemy’s naval bases. Meanwhile, all
along the South Coast of England a series of fortified torpedo-proof
harbours in the neighbourhood of our great naval establishments afforded
safe, close, and convenient stations for our battle fleets and other
supporting vessels when not actually at sea.
When early in the present century our potential enemy for the first time
became not France, but Germany, our naval strategic front shifted from
the South to the East Coast and from the Channel to the North Sea. But
although the enemy, the front, and the theatre had changed, the sound
principle of British naval strategy still held good. Our first line of
defence was considered to be the enemy’s ports. The Admiralty policy was
still a close blockade of those ports by means of stronger flotillas
properly supported by cruisers and ultimately by the battle fleets.
It was not to be expected that our arrangements on this new front could
rapidly reach the same degree of perfection as the conflicts of so many
generations had evolved in the Channel; and so far as our naval bases
were concerned, we were still in the process of transition when the
great war began. More serious, however, was the effect of the change on
the utility of our destroyers. Instead of operating at distances of from
20 or 60 miles across the Channel with their supporting ships close at
hand in safe harbours, they were now called upon to operate in the
Heligoland Bight, across 240 miles of sea, and with no suitable bases
for their supporting battle fleet nearer than the Thames or the Forth.
Nevertheless, the Admiralty continued to adhere to their traditional
strategic principle, and their war plans up till 1911 contemplated the
close blockade of the enemy’s ports immediately upon the declaration of
war. Our destroyers were constructed with ever increasing sea-keeping
qualities and with a great superiority of gun power. The Germans, on the
other hand, adhered to the French conception of the torpedo boat as a
means of attack upon our large ships. While we relied in our destroyer
construction principally on gun power and sea-keeping qualities, they
relied upon the torpedo and high speed in fair weather opportunities.
But the much greater distances over which our destroyers had now to
operate across the North Sea immensely reduced their effectiveness.
Whereas across the Channel they could work in two reliefs, they required
three across the North Sea. Therefore only one-third instead of one-half
of our fighting flotillas could be available at any given moment.
Against this third the enemy could at any moment bring his whole force.
In order to carry out our old strategic policy from our Home bases we
should have required flotillas at least three and probably four times as
numerous as those of Germany. This superiority we had not got and were
not likely to get.
Therefore from shortly before 1905 when the French agreement was signed,
down to the Agadir crisis in 1911, the Admiralty made plans to capture
one or other of the German islands. On this it was intended to establish
an oversea base at which from the beginning of the war our blockade
flotillas could be replenished and could rest, and which as war
progressed would have developed into an advanced citadel of our sea
power. In this way, therefore, the Admiralty would still have carried
out their traditional war policy of beating the enemy’s flotillas and
light craft into his ports and maintaining a constant close blockade.
These considerations were not lost upon the Germans. They greatly
increased the fortifications of Heligoland, and they proceeded to
fortify one after another such of the Frisian Islands as were in any way
suitable for our purposes. At the same time a new and potent factor
appeared upon the scene—the submarine. The submarine not only rendered
the capture and maintenance of an oversea base or bases far more
difficult and, as some authorities have steadfastly held, impossible,
but it threatened with destruction our cruisers and battleships without
whose constant support our flotillas would easily have been destroyed by
the enemy’s cruisers.
This was the situation in October, 1911, when immediately after the
Agadir crisis I became First Lord and proceeded to form a new Board of
Admiralty. Seeing that we had not for the time being the numerical force
of destroyers able to master the destroyers of the potential enemy in
his home waters, nor the power to support our flotillas with heavy
ships, and having regard also to the difficulty and hazard in all the
circumstances of storming and capturing one of his now fortified
islands, we proceeded forthwith to revise altogether the War Plans and
substitute, with the full concurrence of our principal commanders
afloat, the policy of distant blockade set up in the Admiralty War
Orders of 1912.
The policy of distant blockade was not adopted from choice, but from
necessity. It implied no repudiation on the part of the Admiralty of
their fundamental principle of aggressive naval strategy, but only a
temporary abandonment of it in the face of unsolved practical
difficulties; and it was intended that every effort should be made, both
before and after a declaration of war, to overcome those difficulties.
It was rightly foreseen that by closing the exits from the North Sea
into the Atlantic Ocean, German commerce would be almost completely cut
off from the world. It was expected that the economic and financial
pressure resulting from such a blockade would fatally injure the German
power to carry on a war. It was hoped that this pressure would compel
the German fleet to come out and fight, not in his own defended waters,
but at a great numerical disadvantage in the open sea. It was believed
that we could continue meanwhile to enjoy the full command of the seas
without danger to our sea communications or to the movement of our
armies, and that the British Isles could be kept safe from invasion.
There was at that time no reason to suppose that these conditions would
not continue indefinitely with undiminished advantage to ourselves and
increasing pressure upon the enemy. So far as all surface vessels are
concerned, and certainly for the first three years of the war, these
expectations were confirmed by experience.
Under these orders the Fleet was disposed strategically so as to block
the exits from the North Sea by placing the Grand Fleet at Scapa Flow
and drawing a cordon of destroyers across the Straits of Dover supported
by the older battleships and protected by certain minefields. These
conclusions stood the test of the war. They were never departed from in
any important respect by any of the Boards of Admiralty which held
office. By this means the British Navy seized and kept the effective
control of all the oceans of the world.
They did not, however, secure the command of the Baltic, nor the
absolute control of the North Sea. We could no longer hope to prevent
the enemy from sallying out of his harbours whenever he chose. What use
would he make of this liberty, at the outset or during the progress of a
war? By what means could we restrict him most effectually?
We sought to probe these questions in the naval manœuvres of 1912 and
1913.
In 1912 the newly-formed Admiralty War Staff prepared, as an experiment,
a plan for an immense cordon of cruisers and destroyers, supported by
the Battle Fleet, from the Coast of Norway to a point on the East Coast
of England. To a military eye this system appeared unsound, and indeed
outside the Admiralty it was generally condemned by naval opinion. I
quoted Napoleon’s scathing comment in 1808: ‘Est-ce qu’on a adopté le
système des cordons? Est-ce qu’on veut empêcher le contrebande de passer
au l’ennemi? Qui est-ce qui peut conseiller au Roi de faire des cordons?
Après dix années de guerre doit-on revenir à ces bêtises-là?’ The cordon
system was however tried, and was completely exposed and broken down. We
then fell back upon a system of what I may call ‘prowling squadrons and
occasional drives,’ that is to say, we recognised that we could not
maintain any continuous control of the North Sea. The best we could do
was to sweep it in strength at irregular intervals and for the rest
await the action of the enemy. This clearly involved a considerable risk
of raiding forces which might amount to ten or twenty thousand men
slipping through and disembarking on our coast. I therefore called for
careful individual study to be made of all the different points where
such forces could be landed, and what would be the best plans for the
Germans to make in each case. At the manœuvres of 1913 Sir John Jellicoe
adopted several of these plans for raiding the British coast and put
them into execution. He achieved so considerable a measure of success
that I thought it necessary to stop the manœuvres on the third day lest
we might teach the Germans as well as ourselves.
But before there could be any question of employing the war policy on
which the Admiralty had decided, there was a preliminary period to be
traversed of the most momentous and critical character. This period
raised another set of problems before which the inconveniences of raids,
or even an attempt at serious invasion, paled in gravity. Of all the
dangers that menaced the British Empire, none was comparable to a
surprise of the Fleet. If the Fleet or any vital part of it were caught
unawares or unready and our naval preponderance destroyed, we had lost
the war, and there was no limit to the evils which might have been
inflicted upon us except the mercy of an all-powerful conqueror. We have
seen in recent years how little completely victorious nations can be
trusted to restrain their passions against a prostrate foe. Great
Britain, deprived of its naval defence, could be speedily starved into
utter submission to the will of the conqueror. Her Empire would be
dismembered; her dominions, India and her immense African and island
possessions would be shorn off or transferred to the victors. Ireland
would be erected into a hostile well-armed republic on the flank of
Great Britain; and the British people, reduced to a helpless condition,
would be loaded with overwhelming indemnities calculated to shatter
their social system, if, indeed, they were not actually reduced, in Sir
Edward Grey’s mordant phrase, to the position of ‘the conscript
appendage of a stronger Power.’ Less severe conditions than have since
been meted out to Germany would certainly have sufficed to destroy the
British Empire at a stroke for ever. The stakes were very high. If our
naval defence were maintained we were safe and sure beyond the lot of
any other European nation; if it failed, our doom was certain and final.
To what lengths, therefore, would the Germans go to compass the
destruction of the British Fleet? Taking the demonic view of their
character which it was necessary to assume for the purposes of
considering a war problem, what forms of attack ought we to reckon with?
Of course, if Germany had no will to war, all these speculations were
mere nightmares. But if she had the will and intention of making war, it
was evident that there would be no difficulty in finding a pretext
arising out of a dispute with France or Russia, to create a situation in
which war was inevitable, and create it at the most opportune moment for
herself. The wars of Frederick and of Bismarck had shown with what
extraordinary rapidity and suddenness the Prussian nation was accustomed
to fall upon its enemy. The Continent was a powder magazine from end to
end. One single hellish spark and the vast explosion might ensue. We had
seen what had happened to France in 1870. We had seen what neglect to
take precautions had brought upon the Russian fleet off Port Arthur in
1904. We know now what happened to Belgium in 1914, and, not less
remarkable, the demand Germany decided to make upon France on August 1,
1914, that if she wished to remain neutral while Germany attacked
Russia, she must as a guarantee hand over to German garrisons her
fortresses of Verdun and Toul.
Obviously, therefore, the danger of a “bolt from the Blue” was by no
means fantastic. Still, might one not reasonably expect certain
warnings? There would probably be some kind of dispute in progress
between the great Powers enjoining particular vigilance upon the
Admiralty. We might hope to get information of military and naval
movements. It was almost certain that there would be financial
perturbations in the Exchanges of the world indicating a rise of
temperature. Could we therefore rely upon a week’s notice, or three
days’ notice, or at least twenty-four hours’ notice before any blow
actually fell?
In Europe, where great nations faced each other with enormous armies,
there was an automatic safeguard against surprise. Decisive events could
not occur till the armies were mobilised, and that took at least a
fortnight. The supreme defence of France, for instance, could not
therefore be overcome without a great battle in which the main strength
of the French nation could be brought to bear. But no such assurance was
enjoyed by the British Fleet. No naval mobilisation was necessary on
either side to enable all the modern ships to attack one another. They
had only to raise steam and bring the ammunition to the guns, But beyond
this grim fact grew the torpedo menace. So far as gunfire alone was
concerned, our principal danger was for our Fleet to be caught divided
and to have one vital part destroyed without inflicting proportionate
damage on the enemy. This danger was greatly reduced by wireless, which
enabled the divided portions to be instantly directed to a common
rendezvous and to avoid action till concentration was effected. Besides,
gunfire was a game that two could play at. One could not contemplate
that the main strength of the fleets would ever be allowed to come
within range of each other without taking proper precautions. But the
torpedo was essentially a weapon of surprise, or even treachery; and all
that was true of the torpedo in a surface vessel applied with tenfold
force to the torpedo of a submarine.
Obviously there were limits beyond which it was impossible to safeguard
oneself. It was not simply a case of a few weeks of special precautions.
The British Navy had to live its ordinary life in time of peace. It had
to have its cruises and its exercises, its periods of leave and refit.
Our harbours were open to the commerce of the world. Absolute security
against the worst conceivable treachery was physically impossible. On
the other hand, even treachery, which required the co-operation of very
large numbers of people in different stations and the setting in motion
of an immense and complicated apparatus, is not easy to bring about. It
was ruled by the Committee of Imperial Defence, after grave debate, that
the Admiralty must not assume that if it made the difference between
victory and defeat, Germany would stop short of an attack on the Fleet
in full peace without warning or pretext. We had to do our best to live
up to this standard, and in the main I believe we succeeded. Certainly
the position and condition of the British Fleet was every day considered
in relation to that of Germany. I was accustomed to check our
dispositions by asking the Staff from time to time, unexpectedly, ‘What
happens if war with Germany begins to-day?’ I never found them without
an answer which showed that we had the power to effect our main
concentration before any portion of the Fleet could be brought to
battle. Our Fleet did not go for its cruises to the coast of Spain until
we knew that the German High Seas Fleet was having its winter refits.
When we held Grand Manœuvres we were very careful to arrange the coaling
and leave which followed in such a way as to secure us the power of
meeting any blow which could possibly reach us in a given time. I know
of no moment in the period of which I am writing up to the declaration
of war in which it was physically possible for the British Fleet to have
been surprised or caught dispersed and divided by any serious German
force of surface vessels. An attempt in full peace to make a submarine
attack upon a British squadron in harbour or exercising, or to lay mines
in an area in which they might be expected to exercise, could not wholly
be provided against; but in all human probability its success would only
have been partial. Further, I do not believe that such treachery was
ever contemplated by the German Admiralty, Government or Emperor. While
trying as far as possible to guard against even the worst possibilities,
my own conviction was that there would be a cause of quarrel accompanied
by a crisis and a fall in markets, and followed very rapidly by a
declaration of war, or by acts of war intended to be simultaneous with
the declaration, but possibly occurring slightly before. What actually
did happen was not unlike what I thought would happen.
Early in 1912, the Prime Minister set up again, under his own
chairmanship, the Invasion Committee of the Committee of Imperial
Defence. This was virtually the Committee which had assembled during the
Agadir crisis in the previous August, and henceforth down to the
outbreak of the war it continued to meet not infrequently. I asked that
Mr. Balfour, who had retired from the leadership of the Unionist party,
should be added to the Committee. This was effected.
The main question before us was the possibility of the invasion of Great
Britain by Germany; but incidentally many other aspects of a war with
Germany were patiently and searchingly examined. The position which I
stated on behalf of the Admiralty was briefly as follows:—
Once the Fleet was concentrated in its war station, no large army could
be landed in the British Isles. ‘Large Army’ was defined for this
purpose as anything over 70,000 men. More than that we guaranteed to
intercept or break up while landing. Less than that could be dealt with
by the British Regular Army, provided it had not left the country. But
the War Office proposed to send the whole Expeditionary Force of six
Divisions out of the country immediately upon the declaration of war,
and to have it all in France by the thirteenth or fourteenth day. The
Admiralty were unable to guarantee—though we thought it very
unlikely—that smaller bodies of perhaps twenty or thirty thousand
Germans might not slip across the North Sea. These would have to be met
at once by well-trained troops. The Territorial Force would not be
capable in the very early days of their embodiment of coping with the
invaders. Some regular troops ought, therefore, to be left in the
country till we saw how matters went at sea, and could measure our real
position with more certainty. It would be a disastrous mistake to begin
sending six Divisions, and then because of a successful raid have to
interrupt the whole process and disentangle two or more Divisions from
the troops in transit to make head against the raiders. We therefore
argued that four Divisions only should be sent in the first instance,
and that two should be left behind till we knew how we stood at sea. The
presence of these two Divisions at home, together with the Territorial
Force, would make it not worth while for the Germans to invade except
with an army large enough to be certainly caught in transit by the
Fleet. Only an army of a certain size at home could give the Navy a
sufficiently big target on salt water. ‘You could not,’ as Sir Arthur
Wilson pithily observed, ‘expect the Navy to play international football
without a goalkeeper.’ The War Office, on the other hand, continued to
demand the immediate dispatch of the whole six Divisions.
This controversy was never finally settled till the war began. It
certainly afforded the means of exploring every imaginable aspect of the
conditions which would arise in the first few weeks of war. Further than
that no man could see. When the actual test came, both the War Office
and the Admiralty abandoned their respective contentions simultaneously.
Lord Kitchener decided to send only four Divisions immediately to
France, while I on behalf of the Admiralty announced at the great War
Council on the 5th August that as we were fully mobilised and had every
ship at its war station, we would take the responsibility of guarding
the island in the absence of the whole six Divisions. We thus completely
changed places. The Admiralty were better than their word when it came
to the point, and the War Office more cautious than their intentions.
Surveying it all in retrospect, I believe Lord Kitchener’s decision was
right. But it was taken freely and not under duress from the Admiralty.
While the discussions of the Invasion Committee were at their height
during the spring and summer of 1913, I prepared a series of papers in
support of the Admiralty view, but also designed to explore and
illuminate the situations that might arise. They show the hopes and
fears we felt before the event, what we thought the enemy might do
against us, and the dangers we hoped to avoid ourselves. They show the
kind of mental picture I was able to summon up in imagination of these
tremendous episodes which were so soon to rush upon us. My intention
also was to stimulate thought in the Admiralty War Staff, and to expose
weak points in our arrangements. For this purpose I entered into an
active discussion and correspondence with several of the ablest Admirals
(notably Admiral Beatty, Admiral Lewis Bayly, and Sir Reginald
Custance), seeking to have the whole matter argued out to the utmost
limit possible. I caused war games to be played at the War College in
which, aided by one or the other of my naval advisers, I took one side,
usually the German, and forced certain situations. I also forecasted the
political data necessary to a study of military and naval action on the
outbreak of war.
Various papers which I prepared in 1913 were the result of this process
of study and discussion. The first, entitled ‘Notes by the First Lord of
the Admiralty,’ deals with the problem of raid and invasion in general
terms, and shows the conditions which would prevail in a war with
Germany. The second propounds the issues to be faced by the War Staff.
The third records my written discussion of the problem with the First
Sea Lord, while the sittings of the Invasion Committee were proceeding.
The fourth and fifth were entitled ‘The Time-Table of a Nightmare’ and
‘A Bolt from the Grey,’ imaginative exercises couched in a half serious
vein, but designed to disturb complacency by suggesting weak points in
our arrangements and perilous possibilities. Space forbids the inclusion
of these last. The first three have been subjected to a certain
compression.
NOTES BY THE FIRST LORD OF THE ADMIRALTY
It is much harder for the British Navy to stop raids or an invasion
from Germany to-day than it was fifteen years ago from France. The
tension between England and France had in the course of successive
generations led to the development of a sea front opposite to France
of great military strength. The line Berehaven, Queenstown, Pembroke,
Falmouth, Plymouth, Portland, Portsmouth, Newhaven, Dover, Sheerness,
and Chatham, covers with suitable defences every point of strategic
significance, comprises three great naval bases and dockyards, and two
torpedo-proof war harbours (Portland and Dover). In close proximity to
this line are our three principal military establishments, the
Curragh, Salisbury and Aldershot.
From the British military harbours and bases on this line close
observation of all French Channel ports where transports could be
assembled can be maintained by a superior British naval force.
Cherbourg and Havre can be controlled from Portland, and Calais and
Boulogne from Dover. Flotillas and light craft employed on this
service of observation would have their own home base close at hand,
and a high proportion could be constantly maintained on duty. The
proximity of the battle fleets in the numerous well-protected
harbours, where every necessity is supplied, ensures the effective
support of the flotillas against any serious attempt to drive them
off.
Very different is the situation on the sea front against Germany. With
the exception of Chatham, no naval base or military harbour exists.
Chatham itself has no graving docks for the later Dreadnoughts, and
the depth of the Medway imposes serious limitations of tides and
seasons upon great vessels using the dockyard. Harwich affords
anchorage only to torpedo-craft [and light cruisers], and is lightly
defended. The Humber and the Tyne are unsuitable for large battle
fleets, and are but lightly defended. Rosyth will not be ready even as
a war repairing-base till 1916 at the earliest. Defences are being
erected at Cromarty, and a temporary floating base is in process of
creation at that point.[26] Only improvised emergency arrangements are
contemplated for Scapa Flow, and the Shetlands are quite unprotected.
The only war bases available for the fleet along the whole of this
front are Rosyth, Cromarty, and Scapa—the more remote being preferred,
although the least defended. The landing places along the coast are
numerous, extensive, and evenly distributed; the strategic objectives
open to an enemy are numerous and important. The Shetlands are a
strategic position of the highest consequence, totally undefended and
ungarrisoned. The same is true of the Orkneys. Edinburgh and Glasgow,
Newcastle, Hull, and Harwich are all points of primary importance. No
large military garrisons comparable to those on the southern front
exist.
But the comparison of the new conditions with the old becomes most
unfavourable when we extend our view from the British to the German
coast. It is difficult to find any sea front of greater natural
defensive strength than the German North Sea coast. Intricate
navigation, shifting and extensive sandbanks and currents, strong
tides, frequent mists and storms, make the Heligoland Bight a very
difficult theatre for oversea operations. The deep re-entrant widening
into a broad debouch, flanked at each side by lines of islands and
sustained in the centre by Heligoland, confers the greatest possible
natural advantages upon the defence. To these have been added, and are
being added, everything that military art can devise. Heligoland is an
almost impregnable fortress and an advanced torpedo and airship
station. Borkum and Sylt are both heavily defended by batteries,
minefields, and strong garrisons, and both can be commanded by fire
from the mainland. Into this great defended area, with its wide
debouch facing towards us, access is given from the Ems, the Elbe, the
Weser, the Jade and from the Kiel Canal communicating with the Baltic,
and open for Dreadnoughts at the present year. Within this area are
all the naval establishments of Germany. A fleet or transports
assembled at either end of the Kiel Canal have the widely separated
alternatives of emerging either from the Heligoland Bight or from the
Baltic for offensive purposes. There would be no difficulty on the
declaration of war in assembling unperceived at Hamburg, Kiel,
Wilhelmshaven, and other ports, the shipping necessary to transport at
least 20,000 men; enough to transport 10,000 men is always in those
ports. Large garrisons exist in the neighbourhood, amply sufficient to
supply whatever military force was required. The Germans possess
to-day large ships of the liner class suitable for transport in a way
which the French never did. The rigour with which agents suspected of
sending information have been pursued during the last five or six
years has made it difficult to arrange for the transmission of
intelligence. Consular officers are marked men; and it is to be
expected that their communications by the usual postal and telegraphic
channels will be delayed if hostilities are imminent. Although the
sources from which information may be obtained have been increased in
numbers during recent years, and are still being increased as
opportunity offers, yet the Admiralty are not prepared to make any
confident assertion that a force of upwards of 20,000 men could not be
collected in time of peace, and embarked without their knowledge. As a
matter of fact, very considerable embarkations of a test character
have been carried out without our having any knowledge until some days
after the event.
The continuous development of the mine and the torpedo makes it
impossible to establish a close watch with heavy ships on the exits
from the Heligoland Bight. To do so for a long period of time would
mean a steady and serious wastage of valuable units from the above
causes, and, if prolonged, would effectually alter the balance of
naval power. On the other hand, torpedo craft, which cannot keep at
sea like great vessels, and must every three or four days return to
port for rest and replenishment, have no base nearer than Harwich, 240
miles away. The operation of controlling the debouches from the
Heligoland Bight by means of flotillas would require twice the number
of oversea torpedo craft that we now possess. The watch would have to
be maintained in three reliefs: one on duty, one in transit, and one
at rest, and therefore only a third of the existing vessels would be
available at any given time. Such a force could be overwhelmed by a
sudden attack of two or three times their numbers by a well-chosen
blow, opportunities for which would frequently recur. Unless,
therefore, we were to take by storm some fortified German island which
could be held as a base, or were permitted to use Dutch or Danish
territory, the closing of the debouches of the Heligoland Bight by a
close flotilla cordon is, in the opinion of the Admiralty,
impracticable at present.
The development of submarines of ocean-going capacity may be expected
to modify this situation in our favour.
The problem of controlling the alternative debouches from the Baltic
by watching over the Skaw or the Belts presents many of the features
that have been found so unfavourable in regard to the Heligoland
Bight. Nothing effective could be done, or still less maintained, with
our present forces without using the territory of Norway or Denmark,
or both. It must be borne in mind that the enemy have the option of
striking with their whole force on either line.
* * * * *
On the assumption that a close blockade, either of the Heligoland
Bight or of the exits from the Baltic, is not possible, the Admiralty
cannot guarantee that individual vessels will not frequently slip
through the cruiser squadrons patrolling the wide area of the North
Sea. The North Sea comprises an area of more than 125,000 square
miles. The number of cruisers available is less than 30, of which a
large proportion will always be recoaling. The aid that can be given
at a distance from the British shore by torpedo craft would be partial
and fleeting. The weather is frequently thick; on a third of the days
in the year the visibility is not more than 4 miles; on a quarter of
the days in the year it is not more than 2 miles. There are about five
days fog per month during the year. April averages ten days fog. At
night it is frequently impossible to see a ship without lights at more
than a few hundred yards distance, and often not at that. It is no
exaggeration to say that the main risk which a single fast ship would
run, steaming at night without lights, would be that of collision,
which chance may be very well accepted. It will be easy to demonstrate
this by experiments at the forthcoming manœuvres. If, therefore, close
and certain observation becomes impossible, there is a very good
chance of an indefinite succession of individual transports reaching
the British coasts without being intercepted by the controlling
cruiser squadrons.
Let us now consider what arrangements exist or are possible along the
line of the British coasts to detect and attack such vessels.
Four flotilla cruisers, seventy-four destroyers and torpedo-boats, and
eighteen submarines are placed under the command of the Admiral of
Patrols for the defence of the East Coast from the Shetlands to Dover;
less than 100 vessels and more than 600 miles of sea front. It is
quite impossible with such a small force to maintain a regular patrol,
or still less a line of observation. These flotillas are not intended
for observation, but to attack. To employ them on the former service,
for which their numbers are wholly insufficient, would speedily
exhaust them: at least half would have to be resting and refuelling.
It is not possible with the forces available for the patrol flotillas
to prevent enemy vessels from reaching the British coast. Our
dispositions are intended to make it certain that they will be
attacked in force with the least possible delay.
A curious distinction attaches to the work of naval coast defence.
Usually the line of observation lies in advance of the line of
resistance. In coast defence the line of observation is in rear of the
line of resistance. So far as the patrol flotillas are concerned, the
British coasts are themselves the only true and certain line of
observation. The approach of an enemy may be undetected by the
cruising squadrons or by the patrolling flotillas. But it ought to be
certain that his first contact with the coast at any point is reported
to the Admiral of Patrols, and that that officer will have his
available forces massed at convenient points from which an attack can
be at once delivered. The Admiral of Patrols must treat his problems
selectively and recognise that absolute certainty is out of reach,
that his flotillas are for fighting purposes, and that their rôle of
scouting is secondary. It is of very little use reporting the approach
of an enemy when one has not the forces with which to strike him. The
patrol flotillas are therefore kept in hand at the best strategic
points, neither scattered nor exhausted, and a system of land
observation by outposts, cyclists, aircraft and signal stations, all
connected by telephone, ought to be perfected, from which accurate
information can be transmitted to the points where the patrol
flotillas are massed.
Dalesvoe (Shetlands), Fort Ross, Firth of Forth, North Shields,
Grimsby, and Yarmouth are the bases of the patrol flotillas, and a
force of fourteen or fifteen vessels would, on the average, be
available for each. It is upon this disposition that the Admiralty
rely to interrupt the disembarkation of any considerable force. It is
of vital importance that the watching of the coast-line from the shore
should be taken up from the earliest moment and in advance of general
mobilisation. The effectiveness of the work of the patrol flotillas
and consequently the restriction of possible landings depend upon
early information being received of any disembarkation. The size of
any raiding party that could be landed will, of course, be accurately
proportionate to the delay. It would no doubt be impossible or
undesirable to put the whole system of coast watches into operation in
the precautionary period. No doubt the arrangements made after war had
actually begun would be much more thorough, and larger numbers of
cyclists and watchers would be available. But a system of watching
likely landing-places ought to be devised which could be brought
silently into operation as soon as the precautionary period is
declared or, if necessary, immediately before, just in the same way as
the watch over the magazines and other vital points can
unostentatiously be improved.
It may well be, therefore, that the coast watch should be set up in
two stages: the first secret, and the second open. For the first the
police and selected cyclists from the Territorial Force would appear
to be the only resources. It ought to be possible to organise a pretty
effective watch with these, and to make arrangements which could be
actually rehearsed in time of peace in connection with the work of the
patrol flotillas. It is not so much armed force which is required as
vigilant watching by persons who know what to look for and where to
report their information. Aerial squadrons along the coast-line or
airships would appear to be of the greatest value. The new naval
aeroplane stations which are being constructed will be of service for
this purpose. After war has been declared, or general mobilisation
ordered, the full arrangements devised by the War Office could come
into force in their entirety, but it is imperative that the
precautionary period in advance of mobilisation should be provided
for.
_March 29, 1913._
NOTES BY THE FIRST LORD OF THE ADMIRALTY
(_Address to the Admiralty War Staff_)
The problem of oversea attack requires to be examined under three
heads:—
(1.) Absolute surprise to-morrow (19th April): everything going on as
usual—Bolt from the Blue.
Objectives of raiders—to prevent the Expeditionary Force being sent to
help France, and incidentally, if possible, to damage naval arsenals
and dockyards.
(2.) The whole expeditionary army has gone to India or some other
distant theatre of war. The war has been going on some time: the
Territorials have been embodied, but great numbers have been allowed
to proceed on leave. The Second Fleet has been completed to full
strength by the closing of the schools. The Immediate Reserve has been
called out; and the whole of the First and Second Fleets are in those
harbours which enable them to reach their actual war stations as
quickly as possible. The patrol flotillas are mobilised in their war
stations. The forts are manned, and the coastal look-out is active.
But this has been going on for several months while complete peace
continues in Europe. The tension has begun to be somewhat relaxed, and
we have settled down to our ordinary way of life, while at the same
time taking special precautions and having our forces so disposed that
they are easily and readily available on the slightest sign of danger.
This may be called “Bolt from the Grey.” The only adequate objective
of the enemy in this case would be invasion in such force as to
overcome the comparatively feeble military establishment on foot in
the United Kingdom.
(3.) War with Germany has begun. All the fleets are fully mobilised
and in active operation against the enemy according to the war plans
of the Admiralty. The objectives open to the enemy would be minor
raids to destroy naval arsenals and dockyards: the seizure of bases
for flotilla action (this last may occur also in 1 and 2), and threats
or attempts to invade in force to distract or divide the British fleet
simultaneously with bringing about a great fleet action.
All these three situations with their variants deserve patient
examination.
2. The first condition governing the dimensions of oversea attack from
Germany is the number of troops available—
(i.) Instantly;
(ii.) In twenty-four hours; and
(iii.) At any time after a general mobilisation is complete.
* * * * *
5. A second great limiting condition is the shipping available in
German ports. For all phases after the war has become open, whether
under 1, 2, or 3, ample shipping is available of every class required,
and the matter need not be further considered. But in case 1, the
invading force is limited by the amount of suitable shipping available
instantly at the right ports, and secondly, by what is available after
24 hours: in case 2 by the amount of shipping available instantly.
After that, when war has actually begun, there is no difficulty in
finding the ships or the men; the only difficulty is to get them
across.
6. The third condition is the time taken to embark, transport, and
land the various forces at different points concurrently and
alternatively. This requires separate calculations in every case.
These are complicated by the hours of daylight and darkness, the
tides, the weather, and other uncertain features. Each case must be
worked out separately, and risked on its merits.
7. The last consideration is the distance of the practicable objective
from the landing-point. Here again each case must be considered
individually:—
Harwich is invaluable because it threatens London, and is
unquestionably the best place for so doing. In no other way could you
react so instantaneously upon British public opinion. On the other
hand, once the invaders were turned out, the actual damage done would
be small.
Immingham is a purely local injury not worth touching before war
breaks out, and afterwards belonging to the ‘driblets’ phase.
Blyth or the Tyne are striking places for Newcastle, involving
considerable moral effect and immense permanent damage, not of a vital
character.
The Tay (Dundee) is valuable as affording a good landing-place and
ample supplies for a large army (if it could get there), within
effective striking distance of Glasgow and the Clyde.
Cromarty, as long as it is undefended by land and if undefended by
ships, would be a good place of disembarkation for a large force, but
they would be isolated in barren country with great natural
difficulties between them and any real vulnerable point. Cromarty and
the Invergordon oil tanks might, however, be the object of a minor
raid in the ‘driblets’ phase, if undefended.
Balta Sound, in the Shetlands, and those islands generally would be of
the greatest value as a flotilla base to the Germans. Until they were
expelled from them, which would be costly both in ships and men, all
attempts to blockade the North Sea would be rendered futile.
On the West Coast there are numerous undefended landing-places in
sheltered waters suitable for the disembarkation of a large force (if
it could get there). Oban, 60 miles away from the Clyde, deserves
special attention. The mouth of the Clyde itself, which is lightly
defended by land and has only three submarines at Lamlash, is suitable
both for the landing of a large force and also for a raid on an
arsenal. The same may be said of Barrow.
This would seem to exhaust the principal serviceable landing-places
which should be considered, but there may be others.
W. S. C.
_April 18, 1913._
NOTES BY THE FIRST LORD OF THE ADMIRALTY
(_Addressed to the First Sea Lord._)
(MARGINAL NOTES BY FIRST SEA LORD.)
A.
The following assumptions appear to me, as at present advised, to be
justified:—
[Sidenote: Should like to limit this to two or three ports at most.]
1. That not more than 20,000 men could be collected and embarked in
German North Sea Ports without our knowing it before the expedition
actually sailed; but that up to that number might actually put to sea
before we were warned.
[Sidenote: 3_b_ answers this, otherwise the assumption is risky.]
2. That no military expedition of upwards of 10,000 men could reach
the British coast before the general alarm was given.
[Sidenote: (_b_) The latter should, I think, be assumed.]
3. That the intention of the German Government to attack us would
either (_a_) be discovered or (_b_), more probably, formally declared
while the expedition was in transit.
[Sidenote: Yes.]
4. That, having regard to the time taken in transit, three to six
hours’ warning would have been given throughout the country, along the
coasts, and at all ports, and preparations advanced accordingly.
[Sidenote: Yes.]
5. That any expedition arriving at a port must expect to encounter
resistance from whatever forces or defences are on the spot after
three hours’ alarm notice; but that no one place can be considered
more certain than another, and that only the ordinary preparations
prescribed under our existing mobilisation arrangements have been made
at each particular place.
[Sidenote: Yes.]
6. That any German expedition seeking to seize a port defended or
otherwise must be provided with an escort sufficient to overcome the
local defences and to beat off the British torpedo craft or cruisers
known to be in the vicinity.
[Sidenote: Assuming that some kind of diplomatic discussion had preceded
the Declaration of War it is to be hoped that Admiralty will
have begun concentrating, but we cannot be sure.]
7. That the moment chosen will be one when the British Battle Fleet is
on the south-west or west coasts of Great Britain or Ireland.
[Sidenote: Our own flotillas should be able to clear the road.]
8. That the return of the Battle Fleet to the North Sea will be
obstructed by mines and submarines, and at night by flotilla attacks.
[Sidenote: Attempt may be made, but in the case of Harwich (the most
probable) there will be 2nd Fleet ships from Nore, also Nore
Flotilla, besides patrol vessels to deal with.]
9. That pending the return of the Battle Fleet the German Navy will
have the command of the North Sea, and that so long as it holds the
command of the North Sea it can continue, though at considerable risk,
to pass individual vessels, in addition to the original 20,000 men,
into the defended harbour which has been seized. The maximum time
which in the most unfavourable circumstances would elapse before the
return of the British Fleet to the North Sea and consequent resumption
of British naval superiority is therefore a vital matter, [Sidenote:
The time-table given in your “Bolt from the Blue” is quite sufficient,
and cannot be varied to any appreciable extent.] and should be worked
out in as many variants as possible by the staff.
10. That the British Fleet when it has returned to the North Sea,
whether northabout or through the Straits of Dover, may have to fight
a general battle at once with the whole strength of the enemy;
[Sidenote: It is almost hopeless to forecast what may happen during
this critical time. No escorts could then be spared.] and that during
the preliminaries, the progress, and the aftermath of this battle
attempts may be made either to reinforce the original landing or to
make further landings at other points on the British coasts.
[Sidenote: Resident Germans may certainly be expected to co-operate
locally. There are always a number of officers over here
map-making.]
11. That sabotage, i.e. acts of treachery before a declaration of war,
are improbable, but that they may occur simultaneously with the first
military hostilities, and that in any case they are not included in
the present phase of the inquiry which deals essentially with military
operations.
W. S. C.
_April 26, 1913._
B.
[Sidenote: Certainly.]
1. It is useless labour to work out in detail a series of
_conventional_ operations. It is only necessary to work out real
operations, i.e. the sort of operations an enemy might be expected to
attempt. The numbers of these are limited: there are only four types.
[Sidenote: Except local co-operation (_see_ A. 11).]
2. First, sabotage, by which is meant acts of treachery perpetrated by
persons or vessels in disguise before any declaration of war.
Instances of these acts are given by Captain Hankey in his paper. They
are an important study, but they do not touch the problems we are now
examining, and they are therefore excluded for the present.
[Sidenote: Yes.]
3. Secondly, a military raid on Blyth for the purpose of destroying
Elswick.
We have hitherto assumed 10,000 men for Blyth-Newcastle; either more
or less may be required. The force must be numerous enough to make its
way in the face of sporadic opposition by unmobilised territorials and
by the population, from Blyth to Elswick; to seize and destroy
effectively the Elswick Works and the ships in the Tyne. It seems
improbable that less than 10,000 men would be sufficient.
[Sidenote: Yes.]
4. Thirdly, a raid of not less than 20,000 men on Harwich, with the
object of stopping the regular army from going to France.
* * * * *
The Harwich operation is essentially—
(_a._) The secret concentration and embarkation of 20,000 men.
(_b._) The destruction of the floating and land defences of Harwich
by the escorting hostile squadron.
(_c._) The disembarkation of 20,000 men with a proportion of
artillery before the British Fleet can arrive in sufficient
force to give battle.
5. Fourthly, a landing in the Firth of Tay.
This is not worth doing unless the force landed is at least 35,000
men. It is assumed that war has begun before the enemy actually
completed their embarkation; that the British Fleet has been forced to
concentrate to the southward [Sidenote: It is almost hopeless to
forecast what may happen during this critical time. No escorts could
then be spared.] in order to fight a general battle with the German
Fleet; that in consequence the northern waters of the North Sea are
denuded of ships; and that the passage of fifteen or twenty
independent transports to a fixed rendezvous, as suggested, will not
be obstructed by any naval force which could not be overcome by the
German warship escort. [Sidenote: I doubt if much in the way of escort
could be spared. The enemy must be prepared to meet our entire
superior force in North Sea.] In this case the forts are fully manned
and the whole coast is alarmed and vigilant. The enemy’s transports
must be escorted and protected by cruisers or old battleships; the
opposition of the forts must be beaten down, and any resistance by
local territorials on land must be overcome and quelled. The objective
of the invaders is Glasgow and the Clyde. The whole six divisions of
the expeditionary force have left England for a distant war.
[Sidenote: On the whole this seems a very risky undertaking, but by no
means impossible, and on the assumption above, quite worth trying.]
The question to be resolved is whether these are all the operations
which need be considered at the present time. Are they practicable?
[Sidenote: First three certainly.] And if so, to what extent?
[Sidenote: With limitations.] How could they be achieved? [Sidenote:
As described.] What are the circumstances most favourable to their
success? [Sidenote: Knowledge that we intend to send army to France,
the strongest inducement, amounting almost to military necessity.]
What are the measures which should be taken in each case?
[Sidenote: _Navy_—
Provide sea defences for Blyth.
Strengthen existing ones (notably Harwich) on East Coast.
Man them on the principle of a ship in commission with
nucleus crew.
Provide _local_ submarine defence flotillas at the principal
East Coast ports.
_Army_—
Adhere rigidly to the Committee of Imperial Defence
recommendations (1908), as accepted by His Majesty’s
Government, [i.e. retain two divisions at home.]]
The times and conditions which I have prescribed are illustrative of
the problem; and before any attempt is made to work out these cases in
detail the conditions should be formulated exactly.
W. S. C.
_April 24, 1913._
These papers are sufficient to show that we did not ignore the dangers
that lay before us or neglect the attempt to penetrate their mysteries.
It is easy to underrate the difficulty of such work in days of peace.
In time of war there is great uncertainty as to what the enemy will do
and what will happen next. But still, once you are at war the task is
definite and all-dominating. Whatever may be your surmises about the
enemy or the future, your own action is circumscribed within practical
limits. There are only a certain number of alternatives open. Also, you
live in a world of reality where theories are constantly being corrected
and curbed by experiment. Resultant facts accumulate and govern to a
very large extent the next decision.
But suppose the whole process of war is transported out of the region
of reality into that of imagination. Suppose you have to assume to
begin with that there will be a war at all; secondly, that your
country will be in it when it comes; thirdly, that you will go in as a
united nation and that the nation will be united and convinced _in
time_, and that the necessary measures will be taken before it is _too
late_,—then the processes of thought become speculative indeed. Every
set of assumptions which it is necessary to make, draws new veils of
varying density in front of the dark curtain of the future. The life
of the thoughtful soldier or sailor in time of peace is made up of
these experiences—intense effort, amid every conceivable distraction,
to pick out across and among a swarm of confusing hypotheses what
actually will happen on a given day and what actually must be done to
meet it before that day is ended. Meanwhile all around people, greatly
superior in authority and often in intelligence, regard him as a
plotting knave, or at the best an overgrown child playing with toys,
and dangerous toys at that.
Therefore the most we could do in the days before the war was to attempt
to measure and forecast what would happen to England on the outbreak and
in the first few weeks of a war with Germany. To look farther was beyond
the power of man. To try to do so was to complicate the task beyond
mental endurance. The paths of thought bifurcated too rapidly. Would
there be a great sea battle or not? What would happen then? Who would
win the great land battle? No one could tell. Obviously the first thing
was to be ready; not to be taken unawares: to be concentrated; not to be
caught divided: to have the strongest Fleet possible in the best station
under the best conditions in good time, and then if the battle came one
could await its result with a steady heart. Everything, therefore, to
guard against surprise; everything, therefore, to guard against
division; everything, therefore, to increase the strength of the forces
available for the supreme sea battle.
But suppose the enemy did not fight a battle at sea. And suppose the
battle on land was indeterminate in its results. And suppose the war
went on not for weeks or months, but for years. Well, then it would be
far easier to judge those matters at the time, and far easier then, when
everybody was alarmed and awake and active, to secure the taking of the
necessary steps; and there would be time to take them. No stage would be
so difficult or so dangerous as the first stage. The problems of the
second year of war must be dealt with by the experience of the first
year of war. The problems of the third year of war must be met by
results observed and understood in the second, and so on.
I repulse, therefore, on behalf of the Boards of Admiralty over which I
presided down to the end of May, 1915, all reproaches directed to what
occurred in 1917 and 1918. I cannot be stultified by any lessons arising
out of those years. It is vain to tell me that if the Germans had built
in the three years before the war, the submarines they built in the
three years after it had begun, Britain would have been undone; or that
if England had had in August, 1914, the army which we possessed a year
later, there would have been no war. Every set of circumstances involved
every other set of circumstances. Would Germany in profound peace have
been allowed by Great Britain to build an enormous fleet of submarines
which could have no other object than the starvation and ruin of this
island through the sinking of unarmed merchant ships? Would Germany have
waited to attack France while England raised a powerful conscript army
to go to her aid?
Every event must be judged in fair relation to the circumstances of the
time, and only in such relation.
In examining the questions with which this chapter has been concerned, I
was accustomed to dwell upon the dangers and the darker side of things.
I did this to some extent intentionally, in order to create anxiety
which would lead to timely precautions. Every danger set forth we tried
to meet. Many we met. More never matured, either because they were
prevented by proper measures, or because the Germans were less
enterprising than I thought it prudent to assume. I will end on a more
robust note.
The following letter was written by me on November 1, 1913, to a
friend—a high naval authority—who had delivered a pessimistic lecture at
the War College.
Do you not think you are looking at the problem from a weak and
one-sided point of view which sees only the dangers which menace us
and is blind to all the far greater dangers which surround the weaker
fleet?
Taking your hypothesis that the German Fleet come out to fight with
every unit they can bring into line, why should it be supposed that we
should not be able to defeat them? A study of the comparative fleet
strength in the line of battle will be found reassuring.
Why are our Second Fleet ships, which do not require a single
reservist, to be considered less ready than German ships dependent on
mobilised men?
Why should it be supposed that a British Fleet is bound to fight the
German Fleet at the exact time and place the German Fleet desires?
Why should we not, if we wish, refuse battle until any detached
division has joined up?
Why should we be forced to follow the enemy on to his selected ground
(presumably, from your paper, off our coasts) when a movement across
his communications would not only place us in healthy waters but cut
him from his only hope of retreat and fuel?
Why should the British Battle Fleets have to fly the North Sea when
the Germans apparently can move about in perfect safety?
All this drift of mind is pusillanimous. Put yourself for a few
moments in the position of the Admiral Commanding the weaker fleet. If
he goes out to fight ‘with every unit,’ he knows he must expect to be
attacked by a force at least three to two superior in numbers,
superior in addition in strength, and superior by far ship for ship
and squadron for squadron, in quality.
He knows he will have to move with his weaker force into waters which
(to him) will appear ‘infested’ by 70 or 80 British submarines and
over 200 sea-going torpedo craft. He knows that he must sooner or
later, and sooner much rather than later, return to German ports to
coal; and that if he is cut off either by the British Fleet or by the
British submarines, or preferably by both, he runs the gravest risk of
being not merely defeated but destroyed. If he tries to reduce his
inferiority in the line of battle by attempting diversions in the
shape of landings, he knows he will have to send transports crowded
with men through waters commanded by an unfought superior enemy and
swarming with torpedo craft, any one of which will send 5,000 or 6,000
men to the bottom.
If he succeeds by great good fortune, probably at a heavy sacrifice,
in landing 15,000 or 20,000 men, he knows that is perfectly useless
unless it can be reinforced by three or four times as many.
He knows that if his raid is not successfully supported within a very
few days those already on shore will have been killed or captured, and
he will have to begin all over again.
Lastly, he knows what people at manœuvres so often forget, viz., that
cannons kill men and smash ships and that battles produce decisions
against which there is no appeal.
He knows that it will pay his enemy to lose ship for ship with him in
every class, and that when this melancholy process has run its full
course that enemy would still have on the water a fleet in being not
less numerous than that with which Germany had begun the war.
If, knowing all this, the ‘naturally offensive character of the
German’ leads him to come out and stake everything on a pitched
battle, surely that ought to be a cause to us of profound
satisfaction.
The second hypothesis—the war of harassments—is more indeterminate,
and both sides may look about for some means of waiting on each other
without undue risk, till decisive periods supervene. For after all a
ship can only fight another ship when she meets her.