The Allied beachhead at Anzac Cove. The Gallipoli landings were the largest amphibious operation attempted during World War I. They were an attempt to by-pass the problems of the Western Front, and reflected the importance attached to the Eastern Mediterranean and, in particular, Turkey.
The situation in the Mediterranean involved a number of players. On the Entente side, the French fleet agreed to take the lead in this theatre, allowing Britain to concentrate on the North Sea and the English Channel, while Austria-Hungary provided the main naval forces of the Central Powers, backed by Germany. Italy and Turkey held the balance of power.
France had a formidable force in the Mediterranean, including two Dreadnoughts and 15 pre-Dreadnoughts, supported by the British Mediterranean Squadron, which at the outset of the war included the battlecruisers Inflexible, Indomitable and Indefatigable. Austria had three Dreadnoughts and nine pre-Dreadnoughts, as well as a number of submarines, based at Pola on the Adriatic. They were backed by the German Mediterranean Squadron under Rear Admiral Wilhelm Souchon, comprising the powerful battlecruiser Goeben and light cruiser Breslau.
The balance between the two sides depended on Italy, which had three Dreadnoughts and six pre-Dreadnoughts. Italy was a member of the Triple Alliance with Germany and Austria, so might be expected to join the war on their side. Yet the Italian Government was well aware of its vulnerability to British and French sea power, and desired to gain Austrian territory, and thus negotiated with both sides for concessions. Although Italy had a pivotal role in the Mediterranean, her intentions were uncertain at the outbreak of war.
Rear Admiral Ernest Troubridge served under Admiral Milne in the Mediterranean, commanding a squadron of armoured cruisers. Troubridge was widely blamed for the escape of the German warships, but a Court Martial decided that he had been right not to engage a superior force.
Further complicating the picture was the presence of several neutral states, which both sides wished to bring into the war as allies. These included Greece, Bulgaria, Romania and, crucially, Turkey. Britain's interest in Turkey was demonstrated by the sending of a naval mission there in 1908, followed by an agreement to build warships for her. On the other side, Germany enjoyed rapidly growing economic influence there, as well as maintaining a military mission that was rebuilding the Turkish Army after the losses of the Balkan Wars. The Turkish Government was unstable and divided, with pro-Germany and pro-Entente factions, but gradually the former took the ascendancy. Opinion turned sharply against the Entente in late July 1914, when the British Government decided to seize for its own use two Dreadnoughts that were under construction for Turkey in British shipyards. This action caused all the more outrage because the ships had been partly funded by a Turkish public subscription. A secret treaty was signed between Turkey and Germany shortly before the outbreak of war in August 1914, which guaranteed the former's entry into the war, yet Turkey still hesitated to take that step. Some event would be required to trigger her participation.
THE ESCAPE OF THE GOEBEN AND BRESLAU
The two German warships in the Mediterranean represented a formidable force. The French fleet was slow to deploy, so the Allied response was led by the British Mediterranean Squadron, commanded by Vice Admiral Sir Archibald Berkeley Milne. He was aware of the complexity of the situation he faced, not least the uncertainty over when war would be declared on Austria and what her fleet would then do, as well as over whether Italy would enter the war and on which side. The British battlecruisers were superior to the German squadron; they would be inferior to the Austrian main fleet unless combined with the French; if Italy joined the Central Powers, then the British and French together might be unable to control the sea.
Milne's orders from the Admiralty were unclear. They implied that his principal objective was to protect French transports carrying their forces from North Africa. Though he was later ordered to shadow the Goeben, he was also told not to engage ‘superior forces’ (though he was not told precisely what this meant). He was further instructed to watch the Adriatic, in case the Austrian fleet should emerge. The location of the German warships was uncertain, but they were expected to head west to threaten French shipping, so Milne tried to balance his competing priorities by sending Indomitable and Indefatigable towards Gibraltar, while deploying Rear Admiral Ernest Troubridge to guard the Adriatic with his four armoured cruisers.
On the morning of 4 August, Goeben and Breslau bombarded the French North African towns of Bone and Philippeville. They were then ordered east to Constantinople and headed for the neutral Italian port of Messina in Sicily to coal. At about 10.30am, the two German ships, heading east, passed Indomitable and Indefatigable, en route for Gibraltar. Since Britain and Germany were not yet at war with each other -war was not formally declared for about another 12 hours – neither side opened fire. The British battlecruisers turned and shadowed the German warships until the afternoon when the latter increased speed and pulled away. The light cruiser Dublin remained in contact until about 9pm, when she lost them in fog near Sicily, and the German warships entered Messina.
Milne had been ordered by London to observe Italy's neutrality ‘rigidly’, so as not to risk antagonizing her, and not to enter waters within 10km (6 miles) of the Italian coast. Crucially, this prevented British warships from following the Goeben into the Straits of Messina, which are narrower than this. Milne believed that his prey would head north and then west once again and, since his first priority was to protect the French transports, he deployed his battlecruisers west of Sicily. He informed the Admiralty of his intentions and they made no objection. Hence, on 6 August, when Goeben and Breslau left Messina heading south and then east, shadowed by the light cruiser HMS Gloucester, the only force that could catch them was Troubridge's cruisers.
Goeben was a battlecruiser, a sister ship of the Moltke. Displacing 25,400 tonnes (25,000 tons), with a speed of 26 knots (though lower in August 1914 due to mechanical problems) and with ten 11.2-inch guns, she was the single most powerful, best armoured and fastest capital ship in the Mediterranean. Her companion was the light cruiser Breslau, a 4570-tonne (4500-ton) light cruiser with twelve 4.1-inch guns. At the start of the war, they were able to take advantage of the confused political and strategic situation, and of errors by the Royal Navy, to escape to Constantinople, where they strengthened German influence and helped to bring Turkey into the war on the side of the Central Powers. They spent the war skirmishing with Russian forces in the Black Sea. Towards the end of the war, the two ships attempted to break out into the Mediterranean. Both hit mines; Breslau was sunk, but Goeben made it back to port, and continued to serve in the Turkish Navy until 1970.
SMS Breslau, a modern, Magdeburg-class light cruiser. The escape of the two German warships was a major setback for the public image of the Royal Navy.
Troubridge initially intended to engage, but on further consideration, decided that accepting battle in the open seas and in good visibility would violate the order to avoid fighting superior forces. The greater speed of Goeben meant that she would be able to avoid battle if the conditions did not favour her, while if they did, her longer-range guns would enable her to knock out the armoured cruisers before they could close to the effective range of their own armament. Troubridge therefore sought to create a situation where Goeben lacked room for manoeuvre (by catching her close to shore) or where her range advantage would be reduced (fighting at night or at dawn). When he realized that he could not bring about such conditions, with huge reluctance he broke off his pursuit – allowing the German ships to proceed towards the Aegean - and returned to fulfil his other objective of watching the Adriatic. He was the target of bitter criticism from many senior officers, but the outcome of the Battle of Coronel a few weeks later suggests that Troubridge was quite right and that the longer range, heavier gun power and far superior armour of the Goeben would almost certainly have prevailed.
The Mediterranean theatre. Neither the Austrian nor the Turkish fleet made many sorties into the Mediterranean (although the latter was involved in some lively engagements with the Russian Navy in the Black Sea), but it was an important theatre in the U-boat campaign.
By this time, the French fleet had deployed to protect the transports, freeing Milne to head east. However, he first took his battlecruisers into Malta to coal, departing only on 8 August. He had almost reached Cape Matapan when he received a signal sent in error by the Admiralty, ordering, ‘Commence hostilities at once against Austria’. As a result, Milne turned away from the Aegean and took up a position guarding the exit from the Adriatic. He informed the Admiralty of his actions, but it was not until the afternoon of the following day that they ordered him to resume the chase. He did so, though not hurrying since it was still believed that the German warships would soon head west. On the morning of 10 August, the British force entered the Aegean and began searching for its prey among the numerous island harbours. By this time, however, Souchon had finally received permission from the Turkish Government to pass through the Dardanelles Straits - which, since Turkey was neutral, should have been refused according to international treaties. The British force, over 150km (90 miles) to the west, could do little when they learned of this development, beyond establishing a blockade to prevent Goeben entering the Mediterranean once again.
Initially, the outcome was seen as something of a success for the Allies. The powerful German squadron had not only been prevented from interfering with valuable shipping, but had also been forced out of the Mediterranean and was now contained, presumably to be interned by neutral Turkey. It was quickly realized, however, that the Goebens escape (as it came to be seen) was a serious setback. Its arrival at Constantinople and nominal transfer to the Turkish Navy greatly boosted Germany's prestige and increased the influence of the pro-German faction in the Turkish Government. The latter was able to take a series of actions pushing the country towards war, including throwing out the British naval mission and closing the straits to foreign shipping. Finally, on 29 October, Souchon (with the connivance of pro-German ministers in the Cabinet) launched preemptive attacks on Russian Black Sea ports to force the hand of those in the Turkish Government who were still unwilling to go to war against the Allies.
SMS Goeben, a Moltfce-class battlecruiser. Her escape, under the command of Rear Admiral Wilhelm Souchon, greatly embarrassed the Royal Navy. Nominally transferred to Turkish service and renamed Yavuz Sultan Selim, she served in the Black Sea for the rest of the war.
HMS Gloucester. The bravery of her commander, Captain Howard Kelly, in shadowing the German ships after they left Sicily and even exchanging fire in an attempt to slow them down, was described in the Official History as ‘the one bright spot in the unfortunate episode’ for the Royal Navy.
The episode was an embarrassing public failure and a lost opportunity for an early, morale-boosting success. Milne and Troubridge were heavily criticized, and the latter was subjected to a Court Martial, only -to the fury of the Admiralty - for him to be acquitted. Yet the greatest responsibility lay with the Admiralty, which had failed to consider the possibility that the German warships might head for the Dardanelles, despite the ever-closer relationship developing between Germany and Turkey. It then compounded this fault by seeking to exercise very tight control of local commanders, assigning them competing objectives, and sending them ambiguous and simply inaccurate signals. Many of the same factors would cause the disaster of Coronel, with a more tragic cost in lost lives and warships.
AN OPERATION AGAINST THE DARDANELLES?
The Royal Navy s interest in the Dardanelles did not cease with the establishment of a blockade. On 3 November 1914, Britain undertook a brief bombardment of the outer forts guarding the straits, partly to test the effect of naval gunfire against such targets. It inflicted some damage and had a dramatic result when a round detonated the magazine at the fortress of Sedd el Bahr. This action provided a boost to Allied morale, but had two less happy results. First, it led to an over-estimation of the effectiveness of naval gunfire against forts, which marred later operations. Second, it warned Turkey and Germany that reinforcement of the defences of the Dardanelles would be prudent. Accordingly, the static fortifications guarding the straits were supplemented by mobile and concealed gun batteries, far more mines were laid and additional troops were deployed.
Despite the initial embarrassment, the early stages of the naval war in the Mediterranean went reasonably well for the Allies. The Austrian surface fleet was contained in the Adriatic, though its submarines caused growing losses. Attention therefore shifted to exploiting the Allied maritime advantage to influence events on land directly. Much of this effort lay in transporting troops and supplies to Western Europe and to the Middle East. Various ideas also arose about using sea power to undertake operations against the Central Powers. In January 1915, pressure for such a move grew with an appeal from Russia to ease the difficult situation in which it found itself in the Caucasus by taking action against Turkey.
Admiral Jacky Fisher. He gave guarded and conditional support to the Dardanelles operation, accepting the use of second-line battleships but insisting that troops would also be needed. He began to oppose the commitment as more forces were sent, which prompted his final resignation as First Sea Lord in March 1915.
There was a plausible case for undertaking some sort of operation in the Dardanelles. First, it would allow the Allies to exploit their great advantage over the Central Powers, namely the flexibility and mobility accorded them by sea power, to circumvent the deadlock on the Western Front. Second, an operation there would divert Turkish forces from other areas where they could threaten the Allies, such as Egypt and the vital Suez Canal (which was raided by Turkish troops in February). It would also reduce the military pressure on Russia and on Serbia, another ally. Further, if the straits could be forced and a fleet penetrated into the Sea of Marmara, this would open up a new route for supplying Russia and would also clear the way to Constantinople: the appearance of Allied battleships there would surely topple the government and force Turkey out of the war. Finally, success might also encourage neutral states in the region - including Italy, Greece, Bulgaria and Romania - to enter the war on the side of the Entente. Action in the Dardanelles promised a bold yet realistic way of achieving a major strategic success that could shorten the war by years.
However, there were counter-arguments that poured cold water on such optimism. First, there were doubts about whether a fleet on its own could force the straits. Even if it reached Constantinople, this would not necessarily drive Turkey out of the war. Moreover, battleships could not remain long in the Sea of Marmara without the support of supply vessels, which would remain highly vulnerable to any remaining defences along the shores of the straits. The battlefleet would also have to run the gauntlet of the defences once again when it returned to the Mediterranean. Its security could only be assured by seizing the heights on either shore, but this would require a considerable commitment of land forces, which were very scarce, and they would face Turkish defenders who could be easily reinforced.
Arguments favouring action at the Dardanelles tended to leave open the crucial questions of what sort of operation would be undertaken and what resources were available. On these questions, major divisions opened up within the British Government, which cast a cloud over the planning process.
Winston Churchill, First Lord of the Admiralty, was an early convert to the idea of naval action against the Dardanelles, suggesting it as early as November 1914. Admiral ‘Jacky Fisher, the First Sea Lord, raised the possibility of using older battleships, which were not suitable for inclusion in the battlefleet against Germany and could therefore be risked. However, he stressed that the operation would need the support of troops to capture the high ground along the shores of the straits. Yet herein lay the problem. Lord Kitchener, Secretary of State for War, was attracted to the idea of taking action overseas as a means of getting around the Western Front impasse, but he utterly opposed committing troops to any other theatre. He was strongly supported in this by the British Army and the French Government. Kitchener was, therefore, only prepared to back a solely naval operation. Thus, the most senior British naval officer believed that troops were essential for the operation, while the senior soldier refused to countenance their participation.
Winston Churchill with David Lloyd George, 1915. The operation in the Dardanelles was very much Churchill's baby, as he forced it past half-hearted military opposition and pushed it through an unenthusiastic Cabinet with relentless and ill considered enthusiasm. Its failure ended his tenure as First Lord of the Admiralty.
Churchill was well aware of this difference of opinion and worked around it. He had himself previously written that forcing the straits by warships without troops would be impossible. However, he was very keen for positive action that would restore the navy s reputation, which had been somewhat tarnished by the escape of the Goeben and by the Battle of Coronel. In his eagerness, he persuaded himself that a solely naval operation could work, and then turned his formidable powers of persuasion to dragging others along with him. He envisaged battleships knocking out the forts, clearing the mines and forcing their way through the straits, after which their appearance off Constantinople would cause enough shock and awe to bring down the Turkish Government and force the country out of the war.
Churchill ignored the growing objections of his First Sea Lord and generally failed to take professional advice from senior naval and military officers, who were nearly unanimous in arguing that action by the navy alone would not succeed. He did not consult widely with experts, though giving the impression that he did, and showed a marked tendency to selectively emphasize what he was told (to put it kindly), downplaying any reservations. Churchill s vision and enthusiasm proved seductive to other members of the War Council, not least because of the contrast it offered to the grim situation on the Western Front, and they failed to scrutinize the proposal as much as they should have. The naval and military officers on the council conspicuously failed to support the proposed action, but nor did they speak out against it, believing that to do so was not their place. Their silence meant that the political leadership acted without a full awareness of the concerns of the senior military and naval leadership. Those who were less enthusiastic about the plan went along with it in the confident belief that Britain could back away if it did not bring rapid results. This was unrealistic, failing to understand that such operations acquire a powerful momentum and become invested with prestige and credibility that makes it difficult to walk away.
Hence, on 13 January 1915, the War Council decided that the Admiralty ‘should prepare for a naval expedition in February to bombard and take the Gallipoli Peninsula, with Constantinople as its objective ’. This contained two important and distinctly optimistic assumptions, namely that naval action alone could somehow take defended ground and that doing so would somehow leave Constantinople ripe for the taking. Such vague strategic direction was hardly an auspicious start to the undertaking.
During the war, a division opened up among British political and military leaders between ‘Westerners’ and ‘Easterners’. The former insisted that the Western Front was the only possible decisive theatre for the war and resisted what they saw as the pointless diversion of resources elsewhere. Their adversaries argued that, given the impasse in Western Europe, the Allies should look elsewhere for a theatre in which relatively modest forces could tip the balance. The problems that marred the Dardanelles operation were a reflection of this unresolved dispute: the Easterners were strong enough to ensure that the operation went ahead, but the Westerners had enough influence to prevent it being allocated the resources that would give it a good chances of success. This was not the only reason for the failure, but it was a major contributing factor.
THE NAVAL OPERATION
The Dardanelles are a channel linking the Mediterranean and the Sea of Marmara, with the Bosphorus and the Black Sea beyond. They are about 65km (40 miles) long, and about 3km (1.8 miles) wide at the entrance, and then varying in width from less than 1.6km (1 mile) to nearly 8km (5 miles). The straits are dominated by high ground on both the northern (European) and the southern (Asian) shores. The strategic importance of this waterway was clear and it was well protected, with defences organized in three lines. The first, comprising the outer defences, lay at the entrance to the straits. They centred on two forts on the Gallipoli Peninsula at Cape Helles and two more on the opposite (Asian) side of the straits at Kum Kale. The second, more formidable, intermediate defences were a series of gun batteries along both shores of the Dardanelles, supported by searchlights and covering lines of naval mines stretching between the two banks. The final obstacle to a hostile navy came in the form of the inner defences, supporting further minefields that blocked the Narrows, where the width of the channel came down to about 1.2km (0.75 miles). These defences comprised several forts located around the high ground at Kilid Bahr on the Gallipoli Peninsula and at Chanak on the Asian coast. The two main elements of the defences, guns and mines, were designed to be mutually supporting. The gun batteries, well sited on high ground, covered the minefields and would make any attempt to sweep the mines extremely hazardous. Conversely, the mines would compel any attacking warships to remain at such a distance that they would find it difficult to knock out the forts.
The Dardanelles. The 1915-16 Allied military operation here was one of the most controversial campaigns of the entire war. The case for it, and the way in which it was conducted, is still hotly debated today. For some, it is one of history's greatest missed opportunities.
Lord Kitchener, Secretary of State for War, was keen to see overseas action that might weaken Germany, but refused to send troops when they might have had a decisive role. He eventually relented but his early actions did much to undermine the operation.
The operation was commanded by Vice Admiral Sir Sackville Carden, who had at his disposal a formidable force of 18 capital ships, including the new super-Dreadnought Queen Elizabeth and the battlecruiser Inflexible, as well as 10 pre-Dreadnoughts and two semi-Dreadnoughts from the Royal Navy, and four French pre-Dreadnoughts. A small force of Royal Marines was available to provide landing parties for brief raids ashore. Carden s plan was not simply to charge into the defences, but rather to reduce them step by step, over about a month. Each stage would see the warships temporarily silencing the guns with long-range fire, followed by minesweepers clearing a path so that the battleships could approach to short range to complete the destruction of the forts.
Before the operation began, senior naval officers continued to push for the involvement of the army to capture the Gallipoli Peninsula. On 16 February, the War Council decided to send out more troops, including the experienced 29th Division, though without any clear idea of what they were to do. Some navy and army officers wanted them to be used jointly with the navy in the main operation, while Churchill saw their role as simply following the navy's success by occupying the peninsula or even Constantinople. Not only was there a muddle over how to use the troops, but also their departure was delayed by several weeks when Kitchener changed his mind over the desirability of removing them from the Western Front. Although he accepted that the army should assist the navy if its operation became bogged down, he resisted committing troops, thus willing the ends while refusing the means. However, his opposition was slowly worn down: contrary to the assumption that it would be possible to call off the operation if it did not meet early success, the opinion predictably grew that, once begun, it would have to be pushed to a conclusion, so the commitment escalated. This unfortunate model of dithering, unclear roles and delays in providing essential resources was to form the pattern for operations in the Dardanelles.
Turkish fortifications and gun batteries at Chanak Kale fort, part of the inner defences, on the Asian shore. The defences protecting the Dardanelles - combining naval mines, fixed forts and mobile gun batteries - proved remarkably resilient.
On 19 February, the Anglo-French force began bombarding the forts of the outer defences. The initial effects were disappointing but eventually the bombardment achieved better results, silencing the fire of the outer forts - which the warships easily outranged - and driving off the defenders, allowing Royal Marines to land and destroy the guns. On 26 February, the force moved on to the second stage of the operation, attacking the intermediate defences. This required the ships to enter the straits, where for the first time they became targets for the mobile batteries stationed on both shores. Shelling from these guns forced the warships to keep moving, further reducing the accuracy of their fire. Overall, the accuracy of the naval gunfire proved distinctly poor. The whole operational concept was based on the presumed ability of warships to knock out forts, but the technology of the time meant that they had great difficulty in doing so. This limitation was well known to specialists in naval gunnery and army artillery, but Churchill had failed to consult such men.
Naval gunfire proved ineffective against shore targets at the Dardanelles for a number of reasons. Targets were difficult to locate, as maps were poor and many of the artillery batteries were concealed. Too few aircraft were available to spot for gunfire, and they were early models, lacking wireless sets, and their crews were not trained for the role. The bombarding warships had armour-piercing shells for use against ships that were unsuitable for use against defences ashore, requiring a direct hit for the desired effect. The main problem was that it was simply more difficult to hit a target on land, at long range, with rounds from a naval gun (which were high velocity and low trajectory) than with rounds from a howitzer (which were low velocity and high trajectory) of the sort used so effectively by armies against fortifications on the Western Front. Later developments would vastly improve the ability of warships to destroy targets ashore, but in 1915 this proved extremely difficult.
The French battleship Bouvet sinking. The pre-Dreadnought participated in the shelling of the intermediate Turkish defences on 18 March. She was hit several times by artillery fire, but was protected by her heavy armour. She then struck a mine, exploded and sank.
The ineffectiveness of naval gunfire meant that the warships would only be able to knock out the forts by approaching to close range. Yet they could not do this because of the presence of mines. These too presented far greater difficulties than had been envisaged, largely because the minesweeping forces provided were quite inadequate. Rather than purpose-designed naval vessels, the plan involved the use of converted fishing trawlers with civilian crews. These boats would have had great difficulty in sweeping mines in the fast currents of the Dardanelles even under the best circumstances. The inability of the battleships to knock out the Turkish gun batteries meant that the minesweepers were subject to intense gunfire from short range, creating a situation which their inexperienced crews understandably found impossible. The warships could not knock out the guns until the mines were swept, but nor could the mines be swept until the guns were silenced: the defences were imposing precisely the kind of dilemma on the attackers that their designers had intended.
The bombardment of the outer forts. The attack on the first line of defences was successful. However, once inside the straits the bombarding warships had to face the additional threats of mines and mobile artillery batteries.
Vice Admiral John de Robeck (1862-1928) was initially the deputy commander, but replaced Sir Sackville Carden in the top job when the latter's health collapsed under the strain of the operation. He oversaw the disastrous attempt to force the Straits by warships alone.
HMS Agamemnon was a Nelson-class battleship, the last class of British pre-Dreadnoughts. As such, she had no place in the Grand Fleet and could be spared for operations in the Dardanelles. In November 1918, the Turkish Government signed the armistice on board Agamemnon.
On 10 March, pressure for faster results from London - due to intelligence that the defenders were running short of ammunition and to fears that German U-boats were about to arrive - led to the tempo of operations being quickened. Several further attempts to sweep the mines were made by night, but once again, the minesweeping trawlers were driven off by gunfire that the warships were unable to suppress. Another variation was planned for 18 March, which would see battleships engage the intermediate and inner defences simultaneously, in daylight, to allow the trawlers to deal with the mines that night. This plan was implemented by a new commander; Carden s health had finally collapsed, so he was replaced by his deputy, Vice Admiral John de Robeck. Commodore Roger Keyes remained in position as chief of staff.
HMS Irresistible hitting a mine. The attacking Allies had known of several lines of defensive mines laid by the Turks and their German advisors. However, they were unaware of an additional, newly laid line of mines, which sank the French Bouvet and also the British Irresistible and Ocean.
The decisive phase of the naval operation occurred on 18 March. It began with the battleships engaging the principal defensive batteries, and by 2pm the early results were positive. The French battleship Gaulois had been badly damaged by a shell, but although most of the mobile Turkish batteries remained largely unscathed, many of the fixed batteries had been silenced and return fire was reducing. At this time, however, the French battleship Bouvet was rocked by a huge explosion; she capsized and sank in less than a minute, killing almost the entire crew. The cause was initially unclear, but was wrongly thought to have been a chance shell hit on her magazine. The battleship Suffren was then genuinely hit by a shell, but was saved by an officer quickly flooding her magazine. Nevertheless, by 4pm, the Turkish fire had slackened to the extent that the minesweepers were sent in again, only to come under heavy fire from the mobile batteries. As a line of battleships steamed in to cover the sweepers, they ran into the minefield that had been the true cause of the Bouvet sinking - a new field, laid parallel to the shore, unlike the other minefields that stretched across the channel, and nearer to the entrance of the straits. First, the battlecruiser Inflexible - already damaged by shellfire - hit a mine, followed by the pre-Dreadnought Irresistible. As the other battleships were withdrawing, the pre-Dreadnought Ocean was the next to hit a mine and sink, while trying to support the fatally damaged Irresistible, which was coming under heavy artillery fire. Despite one French and two British battleships being sunk, and two French battleships and one British battlecruiser being badly damaged (Inflexible was able to make it back to port), the mines were still in place and the mobile batteries were still able to cover them.
De Robeck was initially keen to resume the operation and received permission to do so from the War Council. Replacement battleships were sent out from Britain and the minesweeping force was reorganized, with navy crews in the trawlers and some destroyers fitted as sweepers. However, over the next couple of days, de Robeck changed his mind: at a conference on the flagship on 22 March, he informed the other senior commanders that the operation would require the support of the army. He later explained that this decision was because he had seen the limited effect of naval gunfire against forts, he realized that Turkish resistance was stronger than anticipated, and he now acknowledged that troops would be needed to help destroy the defending batteries and to secure the lines of communication for the fleet once it passed through the straits. The newly appointed commander of the land forces, General Sir Ian Hamilton, agreed with de Robeck, but stated that the army would not be ready for a landing until 14 April. Characteristically, Churchill strongly favoured trying again, but his senior admirals would not back him and de Robeck stood firm, while others in London bowed to the unanimous position of the two theatre commanders.
‘The warships could not knock out the guns until the mines were swept, but nor could the mines be swept until the guns were silenced the defences were imposing precisely the kind of dilemma their designers had intended.’
The Turkish and German official histories of the campaign make it clear that the defenders were seriously stretched: morale was low, most of their heavy ammunition was gone and they had few mines left in reserve. The Allied officers who wanted to maintain the offensive argued that the enemy was effectively defeated and that pushing on with the battleships would have achieved success, while any delay only allowed the defenders morale to recover and reinforcements to arrive and strengthen them.
This argument was understandable, but those such as Keyes, who urged de Robeck to press on, seemed to overlook the problem of the mobile batteries; eliminating them would require troops to be landed.
A purely naval operation had, unwisely, been attempted and had failed, so a combined operation involving both the Navy and the Army was needed. However, due to the disjointed planning process and the refusal of Kitchener and others to send out adequate land forces in a timely manner, it was not possible to undertake an immediate landing. Some weeks would be needed to build up additional troops and supplies, and for the transport ships, which had not been loaded for an amphibious operation, to reload at Alexandria. The delay caused by the Allies inability to conduct a swift : landing allowed Turkey to reinforce the peninsula to a strength sufficient to hold it: when the naval operation began, there was just a single Turkish division there, but by mid-April there were six. A smaller force landed early on, with the advantage of surprise, might well have had greater success than the larger force that was eventually to undertake the operation. This was, perhaps, the greatest missed opportunity of the campaign.
PLANNING THE LANDINGS
The Dardanelles were scarcely more promising for an amphibious landing than for a solely naval operation. The vital Gallipoli Peninsula is about 80km (50 miles) long, with difficult terrain rising rapidly from the shore to commanding heights that provide defenders with an enormous advantage. There were few potential landing sites, and those that did exist lacked depth for establishing command, artillery and supply systems for a military campaign. Moreover, the earlier operations had quite forfeited strategic surprise, and Turkey and Germany were rapidly building up their defences.
From the beginning, the Allied expedition was subject to many problems. Hamilton was not given clear strategic guidance about what he was to achieve, and the human and material resources with which he was provided came too little and too late. Just as important, he lacked a proper staff organization to undertake the incredibly complex task of planning and organizing such a demanding operation. There was little coordination between the Navy and Army, whose staffs were not even located together during the planning process. There were frequent disagreements between Hamilton and his subordinate corps and division commanders. The planners lacked accurate intelligence about terrain and the capabilities of the defenders; as is often the case with intelligence failures, the information was available, but simply did not reach those who needed it. There was very poor security around the operation, particularly in Egypt, with the result that Turkey and Germany were well informed about developments. Insufficient attention was paid to ensuring the necessary flow of supplies, particularly water, and to dealing with casualties. The Allied forces had far too little artillery, while the lack of ammunition for the small number of guns they had was a constraint throughout the campaign. There was a lack of specialized amphibious shipping and a general paucity of experience in amphibious operations that was hardly surprising, given that the last opposed landing by British forces had been in 1801. Nearly every warning sign that predicts disaster in an amphibious operation can be identified in the run-up to the landings at Gallipoli.
‘A smaller force landed early on, with the advantage of surprise, might well have had greater success than the larger force that eventually undertook the operation.’
Otto Liman von Sanders was a German general who served as military advisor to Turkey. The successful defence of the peninsula owed much to his careful planning.
During the naval operation, the head of the German military mission in Turkey, Otto Liman von Sanders, was given command of the rapidly growing defensive forces. He assessed that the most likely locations for the anticipated landings were at Bulair in the north of the Gallipoli Peninsula, and at Kum Kale on the Asian shore. Of the six Turkish divisions available to him, he therefore deployed two to each of these locations. The other area where he believed a landing might be undertaken was at Cape Helles and Gaba Tepe, so he placed one division to defend these locations, with the last division in reserve near Maidos, from where it could advance to Bulair or Helles as required. In each case, he concentrated what he judged had previously been scattered forces, with the main body some distance inland and only small units on the beaches themselves. He used to good effect the time gifted to him by the delays in the Allied operation, improving the roads in the area to ease the movement of his troops and supplies, and strengthening the defences of the likely landing beaches with mines, wires and well dug-in positions for his forces.
The naval operations of 18 March against the defences of the straits. Having defeated the outer defences, the Allies moved on to the intermediate defences of the Dardanelles, inside the straits. These proved to be a far more difficult target and the resulting loss of warships ended the purely naval operation.
Mustafa Kemal served as a divisional commander under Liman von Sanders. He proved to be a highly capable officer, particularly in taking swift action to cut out the threat from promising Allied offensives. His reputation was greatly enhanced by his contribution in this campaign.
The troops at Hamilton s disposal comprised one regular army division, a scratch Royal Naval Division (a mix of Royal Marines and naval personnel), two inexperienced divisions of the Australia and New Zealand Corps - or Anzacs - that were training in Egypt, and one French division. None of these formations was trained or experienced in the demanding role of amphibious warfare.
Hamilton s plan placed the main effort at Cape Helles. This was known to be well defended, but it was the only location with sufficient space on the beaches for the size of force required. His most experienced unit, 29th Division, was to land on several beaches to confuse and disperse the defenders. The main beaches, north to south, were named X, W, and V, with smaller diversionary landings at Y Beach to the north and S Beach to the southeast. A second major landing would see the Anzacs descend about 20km (12 miles) north of Helles, on the western coast of the peninsula. The plan was for the initial forces to seize a bridgehead, through which following forces could move inland, with those from Helles capturing the commanding heights at Achi Baba, while the Anzacs cut off Turkish reinforcements from the north and took the town of Maidos; all of this was to be achieved by the end of the first day. They would then take the Kilid Bahr plateau that dominated the straits, the town of Gallipoli and finally Bulair to secure the peninsula.
These two main landings would be supported by a demonstration (a feint without actually landing) by the Royal Naval Division at Bulair to the north, to hold in place the defenders there, and a diversionary landing by the French division to the south, on the Asian coast. Bulair was assessed as too heavily defended, and too difficult for the navy to provide fire support, for a major landing to be conducted, while forces in Asia would be too vulnerable to counterattack from the interior of Turkey. Hamilton was aware that he had no reserves; this was another effect of the inadequate resources for the expedition.
THE LANDINGS
The landings went ahead on 25 April. At Bulair, the troops approached the beaches under the covering fire of warships and then, as planned, turned away without landing. This action had the desired effect: Otto Liman von Sanders, perceiving what he expected at Bulair, initially believed that the landings to the south were the diversions, and held back his reinforcements for two days, allowing the Allies precious time to build up their bridgeheads. To the south, at Kum Kale, the French force got ashore successfully, held off counterattacks and then withdrew as planned on the night of 26/27 April. They were then set ashore once again to reinforce the position at Helles.
There, the results were mixed, with events going particularly well at the two minor beaches, on either flank. Furthest to the north, Y Beach was added to the plan late, because it seemed to be lightly defended and provided a quick approach to high ground. Surprise was achieved; the forces landed successfully and reached the top of the cliffs, but then stopped in place and at first did not even begin digging in. The officers commanding here lacked clear instructions about what to do next and there was uncertainty over who was in command. Their lack of initiative was compounded by the failure of more senior commanders to send in reinforcements or even supplies of ammunition; urgent requests for such support were not even acknowledged, let alone acted upon. If the British commanders failed to appreciate just how significant a success Y Beach could have become, the Turks made no such mistake. They launched a strong counterattack, supported by artillery, forcing the British force to be withdrawn the next day.
A similar story of unexploited success unfolded at the other end of the line, on S Beach. This landing was only intended as a diversion and because of the inadequate number of landing craft available, only two companies could be inserted here. They achieved surprise and seized the beach quickly with light casualties. However, once again their commanding officers seemed to have little conception of what they should do next and remained in place, rather than pushing on to support the forces landing at the other beaches nearby.
The aftermath of one of the landing beaches. As this picture suggests, the beaches along the tip of the Gallipoli Peninsula were far from ideal for opposed amphibious landings, and greatly benefited the defenders. They were captured, with great determination and heavy losses, but this costly success was not exploited.
Of the main landings, those at X Beach went reasonably well. This beach was not as strongly defended as the others, and the Turkish forces deployed there were driven off by the covering fire of the battleship Implacable. Unlike the other capital ships supporting the landings, her captain chose to move her in closer than his orders had envisaged and was therefore able to provide accurate and effective fire support. This assisted the landing forces in establishing themselves ashore and driving off the counterattacks that followed.
The landings from the River Clyde, at V Beach. A converted collier, the River Clyde was designed to act as a ‘Trojan Horse’ to carry troops to V beach, to supplement the inadequate number of landing craft available. This painting suggests the heavy fire that was directed against the landing troops.
Elsewhere at Helles, however, events did not unfold so well. The main landing beaches, W and V, were defended by fairly small forces but their positions had been extremely well prepared, with mines and wire in the water and up the beaches, and then well dug-in defensive positions on commanding high ground, supported by carefully sited machine guns. Hamilton s plan assumed that naval gunfire could destroy the defences but its effect, once again, proved disappointing, not least because the warships were short of the high-explosive shells that were needed for the task.
At W Beach, as elsewhere, the troops were landed from small craft that were towed by steam vessels, but then had to cover the final stretch by rowing. These craft came under heavy fire as they approached the beaches and then the troops became caught in the wire, suffering terrible casualties. A second wave eventually landed north of the main beach, under the shelter of cliffs, and outflanked the defences.
The situation at W Beach was bad; at V Beach it was worse. Realizing that there were insufficient landing craft available, a solution was improvised by converting a collier, the River Clyde, to act as a landing ship that would be run aground close to the shore, carrying with some degree of protection about 2000 troops, who would emerge from specially designed sally ports, with machine guns fitted on the ship to provide covering fire. In an inevitable allusion to a previous conflict fought nearby, this vessel was referred to as a ‘Trojan Horse’. In practice, the concept was unsuccessful. It had been realized that the River Clyde would not be able to advance right to the water s edge, so arrangements were made to moor other ships alongside to act as a bridge. However, she was not able to approach the beach as closely as the plan had assumed, and the bridging vessels were unable to get into place. This left the troops disembarking from the River Clyde having to swim or wade through deep water, under murderous fire from the defenders. Losses at V Beach were so high that the landings had to be stopped until nightfall, and commanders were in serious doubt over whether the beach could be taken. The British forces were able to gain a bridgehead the next morning, capturing the fort of Sedd el Bahr, with the help of naval gunfire and troops from S and W beaches belatedly attacking the defenders from behind - suggesting what might have been achieved if this sort of action had been more generally incorporated in the plan.
‘The landings of 25 April suffered from poor planning and failures of command and leadership at several levels, exacerbated by problems in establishing reliable communications.’
Further north, the Anzacs should have landed at Z Beach, or ‘Brighton Beach as it become known, where they would then face a gentle slope to advance inland to the heights that were their initial objective. They were to land at night, to benefit from surprise. However, poor maps, currents that were considerably stronger than expected and the confusion of operating at night resulted in the troops being landed in the wrong location, up to a mile away from the intended position. Units became broken up, further increasing the confusion caused by mounting losses. The Australian and New Zealand troops struggled to advance inland over broken terrain that made it even more difficult to follow maps that were inadequate to begin with. They suffered high losses from Turkish artillery and snipers, for whom the ground was ideal, while the fire support provided by the fleet was very uneven in its impact. Despite the confusion, the Anzacs managed to capture some high ground at Sari Bair but the commander of the Turkish reserve division, Mustafa Kemal, launched a swift counterattack that forced them back. Some unit commanders urged that the Anzacs should be evacuated, but when the corps commander, Lieutenant-General Sir William Birdwood, relayed this to Hamilton, his superior ordered him to stay put and the Anzacs to ‘dig, dig, dig ‘.On 28/29 April, four battalions from the Royal Naval Division, which had conducted the diversionary operation at Bulair, were landed to support the Anzacs in holding the bridgehead, and further British and Indian troops followed later.
The landings of 25 April suffered from poor planning and failures of command and leadership at several levels, which were exacerbated by problems in establishing reliable communications. The result was that considerable sacrifice and individual courage did not get the rewards they deserved. Hamilton and his subordinate commanders were so preoccupied with the admittedly formidable difficulties of getting ashore in an opposed amphibious landing that they focused on this initial stage to the exclusion of what would follow. The result was that where local success was achieved - at Y and S beaches - it was neither reinforced nor exploited, as commanders concentrated instead on the problems at V and W beaches. Matters were not helped by the relationship between Hamilton and his corps and divisional commanders: he proved too reluctant to intervene and to direct his subordinates, failing to order them to reinforce Y and S beaches, despite being urged to do so by naval officers such as de Robeck and Keyes. Where bridgeheads were established, unit commanders lacked either clear instructions on how to proceed or the initiative to work it out for themselves. Hence, the forces ashore sat tight rather than rapidly pushing inland to exploit the initial confusion of the defenders. As a result, the Turkish forces had time to recover, to bring in reinforcements and to mount effective counterattacks that pushed the Allies back from some of their initial gains. The forces landed at Helles did not succeed in taking the high ground of Achi Baba on the first day - nor would they do so throughout the campaign. Similarly, despite heroic efforts, the Anzacs were unable to take their assigned objectives.
The landings at Cape Helles. By the time the failure of the solely naval operation convinced London that the Army would be needed as well, the reinforcement of the defences had made a successful amphibious operation highly unlikely.
The Allies had managed to land some 30,000 men and to establish bridgeheads that, supported by naval gunfire, they were able to hold against determined counterattacks. Yet this modest success came at a high cost: in the first few days of the operation, 29th Division had lost nearly 6600 men killed or wounded and the Anzacs nearly 3500. For many historians, the next few days were a missed opportunity: a properly designed plan would have had the attackers push on rapidly to take advantage of the initial confusion and dislocation of the defenders. Despite the problems encountered by the Allies, the Turkish forces were reeling and a little slow to react, but would soon recover if given time; as the Allies built up their forces and supplies, the defenders did the same only at a faster pace. The delays and lack of initiative allowed them to reorganize, bring up reinforcements and further improve their defensive positions.
The Australian and New Zealand landing at Gaba Tepe. Strong currents resulted in the ANZAC being landed a mile away from where the plan had envisaged. They made some early territorial gains, but were pushed back to their bridgehead by determined Turkish counterattacks.
THE LATER STAGES OF THE CAMPAIGN
With the initial operations having stalled, the Allies now faced the dilemma of how to proceed. Pulling out would have a disastrous effect diplomatically, so they continued to send reinforcements, but at a slow rate and without any clear conception of their purpose. A series of offensives was launched but they tended to be ill planned and hopelessly ambitious given the strength of the Turkish defences and, in particular, the constant shortage of artillery. The situation came to resemble a smaller replica of the Western Front, with trench warfare in which major pushes made negligible gains at enormous cost, while supply problems and, even more so, disease took their toll in lives and morale. Such a war of attrition was not to the benefit of the Allies, not least because the Turks had the advantage of better positions on higher ground, as well as rather easier supply lines.
In Britain, the operation inflicted political casualties. On 15 March, Fisher resigned due to Churchill s insistence on sending further reinforcements, which was the last straw in their deteriorating relationship. The main architect of the expedition did not last much longer, as the formation of a new coalition government on 25 May saw Churchill leave the Admiralty.
The ongoing operation was beset by problems with supplies, partly because the small bridgeheads had long lines of communication back to Greek islands that were 100km (60 miles) or more away, and further back to France, where the nearest railhead was located. These long supply lines were vulnerable to attack, as were the battleships that were providing critical supporting fire to the troops ashore. On 12 May, the pre-Dreadnought HMS Goliath was sunk by an intrepid Turkish torpedo boat. This success was followed later in the month as German U-boats began to arrive, with U21 sinking Triumph on 25 May and Majestic on 27 May. These losses prompted the rapid withdrawal of Queen Elizabeth, with the other battleships following soon after, to be replaced by monitors and cruisers. Improved Allied antisubmarine precautions prevented the loss of further warships, but the U-boats continued to take their toll of merchant shipping in the Mediterranean.
This was one theatre in which the Allies were not the only ones to rely on seaborne communications, as the primitive nature of the road network forced Turkey to make extensive use of ships to supply her own forces at Gallipoli. These presented a lucrative target for any Allied submarines that succeeded in running the gauntlet of the difficult navigation and heavy defences of the Dardanelles. They were joined in their offensive against Turkish military shipping by Royal Navy seaplanes, which sank several vessels and achieved a significant milestone: on 12 August 1915, a Short 184 seaplane conducted the first ever launch of an air-dropped torpedo, hitting and damaging a supply ship. Attacks on the Turkish supply lines had a useful effect, but could never be decisive unless combined with a major operation on land.
Armoured motor lighters, nick-named ‘Beetles’, during the August 1915 landings at Suvla Bay. This operation, intended to work with renewed offensives from the original landing sites, featured many of the failings seen before, notably in leadership and a lack of initiative.
Rather than accept the embarrassment of withdrawing, the Allied governments decided to attempt a renewed offensive. The plan was for British, Australian and New Zealand forces to break out from the northern part of the Anzac Cove area to capture the dominating high ground, cutting off the Turkish forces to the south in preparation for a subsequent advance. When Hamilton learned that he was to receive additional troops, he added to this main element of the plan a new landing by two British divisions at Suvla Bay to the north, which was known to be lightly defended. These operations would be supported by diversionary attacks at the southern end of the Anzac sector and at Helles. This offensive began on 6 August. The plan for the breakout from Anzac Cove required an unrealistic pace of advance over very difficult ground. Despite heavy losses, widespread confusion and failures of command, some gains were made. However, these were retaken as a result of further prompt action by Mustafa Kemal, the Turkish area commander. The landings at Suvla Bay benefited from the use of armoured, steam-powered landing craft (named ‘Beetles’), but in other respects saw a repeat of many of the errors that marred the initial operations. The landings were initially successful, but became disorganized; units became muddled up and officers, trained for the more methodical approach of the Western Front, failed to exploit initial success by advancing inland and taking the crucial high ground. This lack of initiative allowed the Turks ample time to seize the ridges that were the objective, and to bring in reinforcements. The situation was therefore no better than before, only along a wider front, further exacerbating the existing supply problems.
SMS Kurfiirst Friedrich Wilhelm,a Brandenburg-class pre-Dreadnought, was commissioned into the German Navy in 1894. She was sold to Turkey and re-named Heireddin Barbarossa. She was sunk by the British submarine E11 on 8 August 1915, during the Suvla Bay landings.
The first success by an Allied submarine was achieved before the campaign even started; on 13 December 1914, the British submarine B11 sank the old Turkish battleship Messudieh in the straits. More capable boats were sent out, the first of which to penetrate the formidable defences and troublesome waters of the straits and get as far as the Sea of Marmara was the Australian AE2, which sank a gunboat before being sunk itself. Other British and French boats followed, notably E11 and E14 of the Royal Navy, which caused havoc among Turkish shipping and even attacked the harbour in Constantinople. Four British and four French boats were lost, but they sank another battleship, a coastal defence ship, six smaller warships and over 50 transports, as well as shelling targets and deterring warships from attacking the Allied bridgeheads.
Allied submarines at the Dardanelles made a valuable contribution to the campaign despite the difficult sea conditions and the heavy Turkish defences.
The failure of this second big effort had worn down support in the government for the operation, while increasingly critical reports in the press created public disillusionment. Once again, the question arose of committing further reinforcements, but they could not be spared from the Western Front. Furthermore, Bulgaria entered the war on the side of the Central Powers in October. This development not only created demands to redeploy Allied forces from the Dardanelles, but also eased the enemy's supply problems by opening routes across land from Germany, which meant that heavy artillery would soon be brought in and turned on the bridgeheads. With winter looming and fear that the existing forces would come under still greater pressure, and no prospect of the arrival of the major reinforcements that would permit a breakout, voices calling for withdrawal became ever louder.
Hamilton opposed this course of action, fearing that a disengagement under fire could cost up to 50 per cent of the force. He was replaced in mid-October by General Sir Charles Munro; the fact that he was known to be a strong ‘Westerner and a long-standing critic of the Gallipoli operation hints at the conclusion that he was expected to draw. Sure enough, he recommended withdrawal. De Robeck agreed, and although he allowed Keyes, always bursting with enthusiasm, to make the case for renewed naval action, he also made clear his own opposition - which was shared by senior admirals at home. Kitchener initially opposed pulling out, but was converted after visiting the area. On 7 December, the Cabinet decided to evacuate Suvla Bayand Anzac Cove, while retaining Helles for the time being.
Of all the different types of amphibious operation, a withdrawal of forces that are in close proximity with the enemy is perhaps the most difficult. It is a formidable challenge to remove a large body of troops while also preventing the enemy from realizing what is afoot and pressing the attack to turn retreat into rout. Given the catalogue of errors in the earlier parts of the campaign, it is all the more striking that the withdrawal from Gallipoli was such a stunning success. At last, an effective plan was meticulously prepared, together with elaborate and imaginative deception plans. By 20 December, the forces at Suvla and Anzac had been evacuated without a single casualty. By then, the decision had been taken to complete the withdrawal by evacuating Helles too, and that was successfully achieved in January, again without losing a man, despite the fact that the same trick was being played a second time. The success of the evacuation was a boost to morale, but scant consolation for the wider failure of the expedition.
B11 sinking the Messudieh. B11 was a small, coastal submarine. In December 1914, commanded by Lieutenant Norman Holbrook, she succeeded in penetrating into the Sea of Marmara and sank the Turkish battleship Messudieh, earning for her captain the first Victoria Cross - Britain's highest medal for gallantry - ever awarded to a submariner.
Submarine operations and ship losses. Submarines from both sides played an important role in naval operations. German U-boats sank several Allied warships, while a number of Allied submarines succeeded in penetrating the defences of the narrows.
There had been several missed opportunities. The initial move against the Dardanelles in February 1915 might have enjoyed success if it had been a combined operation involving not only the Navy but also the Army. A far smaller force than the one eventually deployed might have taken the peninsula, lightly defended as it was early on. Failure at this point prevented later operations from achieving surprise, ensuring that they would be conducted against an alerted and reinforced enemy. Nevertheless, at the time of the main landings in April, a better-planned and better-led operation that exploited initial success by pushing inland against a temporarily disorganized opponent might still have achieved the objective of seizing the key high ground. As it was, however, a flawed plan was executed poorly, resulting in a disorganized and ponderous operation that allowed the enemy to recover and reinforce. By the middle of May, given the state of military technology of the time, the Allies were never going to be able to bring to bear sufficient numbers to succeed. By the time the operation ended, it had cost 205,000 British and Empire casualties killed, wounded or sick, plus 47,000 French and some 290,000 Turkish losses.
HMS Majestic sinking after being torpedoed by U21. She was a pre-Dreadnought, dating from 1895, and was used for second-line duties such as escorting troop convoys and coastal bombardment before being sent to the Dardanelles. She provided fire support until U21 torpedoed her off Cape Helles on 27 May 1915.
The Dardanelles operation was an imaginative attempt to exploit the Allies great strategic advantage of sea power. Success was achievable and might have shortened the war. Its failure ensured that the campaign will remain one of the most controversial expeditions in British naval and military history.
A long-standing debate among historians has focused on whether the fundamental idea behind the Dardanelles expedition was fatally flawed: would military success there truly have brought the strategic benefits that had been so confidently predicted? This line of argument would suggest that the operation was always doomed to failure. More common, however, is the view that there was some genuine potential in the concept, but that it was thrown away by incompetent planning and implementation, and by the failure to provide the necessary resources in a timely fashion. According to this school of thought, there were real opportunities when success was possible, but they were not taken. In the words of the historian Basil Liddell Hart, ‘Thus the curtain rang down on a sound and far-sighted conception, marred by a chain of errors in execution almost unrivalled even in British history.’