During the first hour of 26 August 1914 the German cruiser Magdeburg ran aground in fog 500 yards off the Odensholm lighthouse in the Baltic. All efforts to refloat the vessel failed and her forecastle was blown off to prevent her falling into enemy hands. Some of the crew were taken off by an accompanying destroyer, but the captain and 56 of his men were taken prisoner when two Russian cruisers arrived on the scene and opened fire, causing the destroyer to beat a hasty retreat. To the Russians’ astonishment and delight, the Magdeburg’s signal code book, cipher tables and a marked grid chart of the North Sea were recovered from the body of a drowned signalman. They were promptly passed to the British Admiralty which set up a radio intercept intelligence branch known as Room 40. By mid-December the code breakers were able to listen to the Imperial Navy’s radio traffic to their hearts’ content.
As if this was not bad enough, on 28 August a strong raiding force commanded by Commodore Roger Keyes penetrated the Heligoland Bight. The raiders were not merely on Germany’s doorstep – they were halfway through her front door. In the lead were two destroyer flotillas commanded by Commodore R.Y. Tyrwhitt, followed by the 1st Light Cruiser Squadron under Commodore W.R. Goodenough and Rear Admiral A.H. Christian’s 7th Cruiser Squadron. Standing off and ready to intervene or administer the decisive coup de grace was Vice Admiral Sir David Beatty’s 1st Battle Cruiser Squadron, consisting of the battle cruisers Lion, Princess Royal, Queen Mary, New Zealand and Invincible with their escorting destroyers. A flotilla of submarines was also attached to the force with the task of alarming the enemy and confusing his response.
Map 2. The earlier phases of the Battle of Heligoland Bight. 7 to 11am.
Map 3. The final phase of the Battle of Heligoland Bight. 11am to 4 pm.
The subsequent engagement took place in a flat calm but was a confused affair in which visibility was limited to two or three miles, effectively denying the German coastal defence batteries on Heligoland Island the chance to join in. The British destroyers fought a fast-moving action, sinking one of their opposite numbers, V-187. However, at about 08:00, Tyrwhitt’s flagship, the light cruiser Arethusa, was engaged with a German cruiser, the Stettin. Unfortunately, the Arethusa had only been commissioned two days previously, so her crew had neither the benefits of a shakedown cruise nor gunnery practice – and, like the ship herself, her guns were also brand new and still prone to jamming. A second enemy cruiser, the Frauenlob, joined in the fight and Arethusa began to take a battering. Before long all her guns except for the forecastle 6-inch were out of action for various reasons, an ammunition fire had broken out and casualties were rising. Luckily, at this point the light cruiser Fearless, the leader of the 1st Destroyer Flotilla, arrived and drew off Stettin’s fire. At 08:25 one of Arethusa’s shells exploded on Frauenlob’s forebridge, killing everyone in the bridge party, including her captain. She sheered away out of the battle in the direction of Heligoland, covered by Stettin. The first phase of the battle was over.
The High Seas Fleet command, believing that the only enemy ships in the area were Arethusa, Fearless and the destroyers, now began directing more of its own cruisers into the Bight. Fighting was renewed at about 10:00, by which time Arethusa had recovered the use of all but two of her guns although her maximum speed had been reduced to ten knots. Having seen Frauenlob safely out of the action, Stettin returned to the fray, followed by Stralsund, which immediately became involved in a duel with Arethusa. Four more German cruisers, Koln, Kolberg, Strassburg and Ariadne, entered the fight shortly after so that by 11:00 Tyrwhitt found himself in the midst of a thoroughly disturbed hornet’s nest. He sent a radio signal to Beatty, still some distance away to the north-west, requesting urgent assistance. Beatty despatched Commodore Goodenough’s light cruiser squadron immediately and followed with his battle cruisers at about 11:30.
For those British cruisers and destroyers already engaged with the enemy, there was the constant fear that the German battle cruisers would emerge from their anchorage in the Jade River and send them to the bottom before help could arrive. They need not have worried, for in the present state of the tide the enemy’s heavy warships drew too much water for them to be able to cross the sandbar at the river’s mouth, a situation that would not change until the afternoon. In the meantime, senior German commanders could only fume with rage and frustration while the battle took its course.
Goodenough’s light cruisers arrived at about noon. When, at 12:15, the battle cruisers, led by Beatty in Lion, burst out of the northern mist, there could no longer be any doubt as to the battle’s outcome.
Three of the enemy’s light cruisers, Mainz, Koln and Ariadne, were sunk after fighting to the bitter end, and the rest escaped in a damaged condition. In addition, the battle cost Germany 1,200 officers and men killed or captured. Among those killed aboard the Koln was Rear Admiral Leberecht Maas, commander of the German light forces in the Bight. The British destroyer Lurcher rescued many survivors from the Mainz, including Lieutenant von Tirpitz, son of the German Minister of Marine. Winston Churchill, then First Lord of the Admiralty, chivalrously arranged for the International Red Cross to advise the Admiral that the young officer had survived the battle. British casualties amounted to 35 killed and some 40 wounded. Most of the damage sustained was repaired in a week.
The outcome of the battle created a tremendous sense of shock throughout Germany. The Kaiser sent for his Chief of Naval Staff, Admiral Hugo von Pohl. He was horrified by the loss that had been incurred during a comparatively minor engagement and impressed upon Pohl that the fleet should refrain from fighting ‘actions that can lead to greater losses.’ Pohl promptly telegraphed Ingenohl to the effect that ‘In his anxiety to preserve the fleet His Majesty requires you to wire for his consent before entering a decisive action.’ In other words, before involving the High Seas Fleet in any sort of large scale action, Ingenohl, a professional naval officer of many years standing, should seek the advice of that old sea dog, Wilhelm Hohenzollern.
The battle and its aftermath marked the beginning of the end of Tirpitz’s career. The admiral had produced a fleet of fine ships that were in some respects better than those of the Royal Navy. They were, for example, compartmentalised to a greater extent, enabling them to withstand considerable punishment, and they were equipped with fine optical gun-sights. Understandably, he did not wish to see his creation destroyed in a fleet action, but neither did he want to see it tied up at its moorings for the duration of the war. In his memoirs, written in 1919, he expressed outrage at Wilhelm’s diktat:
Order issued by the Emperor following an audience with Pohl – to which I was not summoned – restricted the initiative of the Commander-in-Chief North Sea Fleet. The loss of ships was to be avoided, while fleet sallies and any greater undertakings must be approved by His Majesty in advance. I took the first opportunity to explain to the Emperor the fundamental error of such a muzzling policy.
This argument met with no success; on the contrary, there sprang up from that day forth an estrangement between the Emperor and myself which steadily increased.
Today, Pohl’s name means nothing to most people, even in Germany, yet there were two remarkable things about him. First, in 1913 he had been honoured in Great Britain by an appointment as a Companion of the Order of the Bath, a surprising adornment for one of the most senior officers in a rival navy. Secondly, he was quick to realise that the Imperial Navy’s U-boat arm was capable of inflicting far greater damage on the enemy than the surface fleet. Although the German light cruiser Hela was torpedoed and sunk by the British submarine E-9 (commanded by the then Lieutenant Max Horton, who became Commander-in-Chief Western Approaches during World War Two) the months of September and October 1914 belonged to the U-boats, which fully justified Pohl’s opinion of their potential. On 5 September the light cruiser Pathfinder was torpedoed off the Scottish coast and sank with heavy loss of life. On 22 September Lieutenant Otto Weddigen’s U-9 sank, in turn, the elderly cruiser Aboukir, then her sister ship Hogue as she was picking up survivors, then a third sister, Cressey, which opened an ineffective fire against the submarine’s periscope. Of the 1,459 officers and men manning the three cruisers, many of them elderly reservists, only 779 were rescued by nearby trawlers. Weddigen’s remarkable feat earned him Imperial Germany’s most coveted award, the Pour le Merite. On 15 October U-9 claimed a further victim in the North Sea, the ancient protected cruiser Hawke which, having been launched in 1893, had really reached the end of her useful life. The same month saw the seaplane carrier Hermes torpedoed and sunk by U-27. In addition, U-boats had sunk a modest tonnage of Allied merchant shipping, although this would rise to horrific levels as the war progressed. To end a very depressing month, the dreadnought battleship Audacious struck a mine laid by the armed merchant cruiser Berlin off the north coast of Ireland and sank as the result of an internal explosion.
Dreadnought battleships of Admiral Sir John Jellicoe’s Grand Fleet at sea. The fleet’s battle squadrons were generally eight strong and sailed in parallel columns. By turning to port or starboard as required, this enabled them to form a line of battle very quickly. (IWM Q18121)
Battleships of the German High Seas Fleet were also formed into eight-strong battle squadrons, sub-divided into two equal divisions. When at sea, the fleet preferred the lineahead formation for tactical reasons based on its escape from a superior force. The manoeuvre was known as the Gefechtskehrtwendung or Battle Turn-About, which involved every ship in the line reversing course simultaneously away from the enemy. The leading ship is possibly the Helgoland, a dreadnought completed in 1909. The Imperial Navy made extensive use of Zeppelin rigid airships for scouting purposes, but these operations were not always successful. Admiral Reinhard Scheer, the fleet’s penultimate commander, once expressed a wish that they would tell him where the British were rather than where they weren’t!
At Jutland the High Seas Fleet included three battle squadrons of which the Second consisted entirely of old pre-dreadnought battleships, led by the Deutschland, which had actually served as fleet flagship until 1912. Her armament consisted of four 11-inch guns, fourteen 6.7-inch guns and twenty 3.4-inch guns. The secondary armament ammunition was so heavy that mechanical assistance was required to handle it, resulting in a slow rate of fire. She is seen here at gunnery practice on a calm day, firing what appears to be a full broadside.
HMS Lion in 1914 with an inset photo of Beatty.
The light cruiser HMS Birmingham in 1913.
HMS Lion.
HMS Lion.
HMS Southampton.
HMS Queen Mary.
The attack on undefended Scarborough created such shock and anger that a surge in the armed services’ recruiting was the immediate result. Typical of the recruiting posters produced shortly after the event was this painting by E. Kemp-Welch.
Oblique picture maps were a popular method of describing the course of an action to the general public. Not a great deal has changed since this example was drawn, although the Scarborough–Whitby railway fell a victim to Dr Beeching’s axe and has long been lifted. The commentary is not altogether accurate but provides the reader with a reasonable summary of events.
A general view of Scarborough’s South Bay during the bombardment. The large building to the left of centre is the Grand Hotel, which sustained several hits. The castle is on the headland to the right. Below it is the small fishing harbour. In his excitement the editor of the Berliner Lokalenanzeiger displayed his ignorance of British geography by describing Scarborough as ‘the most important harbour on the ease coast of England between the Humber and the Thames.’
A drawing for the Illustrated London News by S. Begg showing shells striking the Grand Hotel’s restaurant on the sea front. More shells can be seen exploding near the ruined castle and among the houses of the town.
A watercolour by James Clark painted shortly after the engagement shows the scene on Hartlepool waterfront just after the German warships had opened fire, inflicting casualties on the infantrymen of the Durham Light Infantry. The Lighthouse Battery, on the right of the picture, is replying and smoke from the guns of the Heugh Battery is drifting across the scene from the left.
Some of Hipper’s ships, including the battle cruisers Derfflinger and Von Der Tann and the armoured cruiser Blucher, on their way home after the bombardment. Hipper was unaware that he had been abandoned by the rest of the High Seas Fleet which had returned to harbour following a skirmish with British destroyers. The photograph was taken from the light cruiser Kolberg, the bridge of which had been stove in by heavy seas.
A contemporary sketch by the artist Montague Dawson for The Sphere magazine showing the last moments of the Blucher with Indomitable steaming past in pursuit of the German battle cruisers. Attempts by British destroyers to rescue the Blucher’s survivors had to be abandoned when the destroyers themselves came under attack from an enemy Zeppelin and a seaplane. (The Mary Evans Picture Library)
Most, but not all Zeppelin airships were operated by the Imperial Navy. It was believed, mistakenly, that by bombing targets in England they would break the civilians’ will to continue the war. This excellent study of Zeppelin L12 seem so have been taken as the ship was about to land, hence the cable seen dangling directly in front of the forward control gondola. A machine gun post for local defence is situated on top of the envelope. (IWM Q.58455)
L12 was not a lucky ship. On the night of 9/10 August, in company with Zeppelins L9, L10, L11 and L13, it set out to bomb London. In a typical demonstration of the Zeppelins’ poor navigational qualities, L9 attacked Goole, L10 unloaded its bombs over Eastchurch airfield and the Thames, L11’s Captain thought that Lowestoft was Harwich and dropped all his bombs in the sea, and L13 turned for home with engine trouble. L12 arrived over Westcliffe-on-Sea believing that it was Great Yarmouth, was caught in searchlight beams, engaged by anti-aircraft guns and chased into the clouds by an Avro 504b fighter. It was again engaged by anti-aircraft guns over Dover and was brought down with a broken back into the sea between Ostend and Zeebrugge. The wreck was towed ashore by a German destroyer and broken up. (IWM Q.20358)
The Zeppelins were expensive to produce and the results they produced in the strategic bomber role were disappointing. As the war progressed this role was increasingly taken over by the Imperial German Air Service’s Gotha and Staaken heavy bombers. This example is a Gotha Vb, manned by a crew of three and powered by two 250-hp Mercedes engines. It had a maximum speed of 87.5 mph and could reach a height of 19,500 feet. Its normal bomb load was one 500lb bomb with local defence supplied to two 7.9mm machine guns. In their day, these aircraft considered to be monsters of their kind. (IWM Q.67123)
One of the High Seas Fleet’s battle squadrons making the Gefechtskehrtwendung or Battle Turn-About during the Battle of Jutland, photographed from a Zeppelin. Despite the naturally murky conditions of the evening, huge quantities of funnel smoke help to obscure the detail, but what was taking place is perfectly clear. This manoeuvre carried with it a high risk of collision and reflected the defeatist German view of any major encounter with the Grand Fleet, but at Jutland it saved the High Seas Fleet from destruction twice.
The badly battered battle cruiser Seydlitz undergoing repair at Wilhelmshaven. If she had had to travel just a few more miles before reaching home there is no doubt that she would have foundered. As it was, her bows were almost awash and she was drawing 44 feet of water forward and listing heavily to port. With assistance from two pumping vessels she managed to stay afloat but in an attempt to lighten her the roof and some armour plate was removed from A turret, which was also stripped of its two 11-inch guns. Even then, it was necessary for the tug Albatross to drag her stern first across the Jade Bar. Her repairs were not completed until 16 September, three-and-a-half months after the battle. Despite being a great favourite of the German public, she never fought again. (IWM SP.2159)
A fine-looking and superficially invulnerable ship armed with eight 13.5-inch and sixteen 4-inch guns, the battle cruiser Queen Mary gets under way. At Jutland she served in the 1st Battle Cruiser Squadron. Unfortunately, on British battle cruisers the danger of fire from an explosion within a turret spreading to the magazine below had not been eliminated, as it had on German battle cruisers and some battleships.
Literally, gone in a flash. Some 29,700 tons of steel and armour plate vanish in a cloud of flame and smoke as flash penetrates one of Queen Mary’s magazines. Only eight men survived from a ship’s company of 1,266.
German shells overfly HMS Malaya during the Battle of Jutland.
Jutland hero Boy Cornwell.
HMS Chester at Jutland. (Wylie)
Damage to HMS Southampton after Jutland.
Jutland 2.00pm. HMS Barham leading the 5th Battle Squadron.
The 2nd Battle Squadron at Jutland.