The German fleet interned in Scapa Flow, the main British fleet base. The proud High Seas Fleet had achieved much during the war, but towards the end was stricken by mutiny.
The final year of the war saw the Allies gradually overcome the U-boat threat while the naval blockade exerted increasing pressure on Germany, while the military balance on land showed signs of shifting. During 1918, one operation stands out – the Zeebrugge raid of 23 April 1918. Although militarily unsuccessful, it cheered public opinion in Britain and among her allies, and has entered national mythology.
Britain had tried various measures to hinder the U-boats, including those of the Flanders Flotilla. This force and a destroyer flotilla were based at Bruges, reaching the sea via a 13km (8 mile) canal to Zeebrugge or a 18km (11 mile) canal to Ostend. Repeated attempts were made to attack this network, but the base at Bruges was well protected against air attack or bombardment from the land, while the technology of the day made it impossible for attacking aircraft or bombarding warships to achieve the necessary accuracy to destroy the canal lock-gates at the two ports.
The blockships at Zeebrugge after the raid. Photographs such as this one, showing the blockships apparently in position, suggested that the operation against the canal had succeeded. However, the practical result was nothing more than a temporary inconvenience.
The alternative to bombardment was to launch an amphibious raid, but Zeebrugge and Ostend were well defended against any such landing. Both ports had many troops in well prepared defensive positions, as well as batteries of coastal artillery totalling over 30 guns at Zeebrugge and 40 at Ostend. The canal exit at Zeebrugge was further protected by the mole – a stone breakwater, over 1.6km (1 mile) long and some 75m (245ft) across its widest point. As well as helping to create the harbour, this edifice had been turned into a minor fortress, with six large artillery pieces, protected by machine guns and troops in defensive trenches.
Despite the difficulties involved, the importance of hindering the U-boats meant that a series of plans for attacking the Belgian ports was considered. These efforts accelerated when Rear Admiral Roger Keyes joined the Admiralty as Director of Plans in December 1917, bringing to the post the same energy and initiative that had seen him devise the raid into the Heligoland Bight at the beginning of the war. He began to modify previous concepts for a raid. Following his appointment as commander of the Dover Patrol on 1 January 1918, he was given responsibility for planning and leading the operation, which he code-named Operation Z.O.
‘The raiding force left home on22 April, the eve of St George's Day. As the motley flotilla departed, Keyes signalled “St George for England”.’
The heart of the plan was for a number of old cruisers to be used as blockships, which would be scuttled to obstruct the canal exits into the sea at both Zeebrugge and Ostend; a thick smokescreen would help to cover their approach. However, at Zeebrugge the powerful artillery on the mole was ideally placed to blow the ships out of the water before they could reach their objective. Keyes therefore planned an assault against the mole from a converted cruiser. This element of the plan would primarily be a diversion to allow the blockships to approach the canal, but would also seek to inflict as much damage as possible on the military facilities on the mole. To support the assault an old submarine, filled with explosives, would detonate against the viaduct linking the mole with land, thus preventing the arrival of German reinforcements. Once the blockships had been manoeuvred into position, the forces on the mole would withdraw.
There were some doubts about whether the operation was feasible, but Keyes convinced the Admiralty that it was worth a shot. For the assault troops, he was assigned a battalion of Royal Marines and sought volunteers from among the crews of the Grand Fleet. The main assault ship was to be the old armoured cruiser Vindictive. In addition to her existing pair of 6in guns, she was provided with a formidable arsenal to support the attack, including three howitzers, two flamethrowers, batteries of mortars and several machine guns. She was also fitted with an additional upper deck to allow the assault troops to gain access to the parapet over the mole, which they would reach by specially designed ‘brows’ or ramps. Additional troops were to be carried in two Mersey ferries, Iris and Daffodil, chosen because their shallow draught would allow them to avoid mines, while their double hulls would make them very difficult to sink. They were given additional armour plate and protection against splinters in the form of sandbags and mattresses. Five old cruisers (three for Zeebrugge and two for Ostend) were chosen to act as blockships and were fitted with extra armour and with scuttling charges, as well as rubble and concrete to make them more difficult to remove. Finally, two old submarines, C1 and C3, were filled with explosives for use against the viaduct. The force comprised over 150 ships and some 1800 men.
The attack had to be conducted at high tide and, ideally, on a moonless night; hence there were only a few days each month when it was possible. Even then it would be challenging to get all of the ships to the right places at the right time because of difficulties of navigation in fast tides and shifting sandbanks, and against enemy fire over the final stages. The operation was launched on 11 April, but at a crucial moment the wind changed and blew away the smokescreen. Keyes took the difficult but necessary decision to call it off. One motor boat was lost, its crew being captured by the Germans. On 14 April, Keyes tried a second time, only to be frustrated once again by high seas and winds. Some senior officers felt the operation should now be cancelled as operational surprise had been lost, but Keyes was keen to press on and even dropped the requirement for a moonless night. The raiding force left home once again on 22 April, the eve of St George’s Day. Keyes was not one to overlook a possible reference to the country’s patron saint: as the motley flotilla departed, he signalled ‘St George for England’, to which the captain of Vindictive replied, ‘May we give the dragon’s tail a damned good twist.’
At 10.30pm the ships for the Ostend raid broke away from the main body. About half an hour later, monitors opened fired on the German coastal artillery batteries, while destroyers took up position outside both harbours to prevent German light forces from interfering with the unfolding operation. Shortly after 11pm the flotilla began to generate the smokescreen that was intended to cover the approach into Zeebrugge harbour. At first it succeeded; the German gunners opened fire when they heard engines approaching but could not see their targets.
At around 11.50pm the wind suddenly shifted, blowing away the smokescreen to reveal Vindictive steaming for the mole at a rapidly closing distance of a few hundred metres. The German heavy guns on the mole opened up at point-blank range and although Vindictive returned fire, several of her guns were quickly knocked out and the ship was heavily damaged. Many of the troops onboard were killed, including the naval officer commanding the sailors in the assault party, and both the commanding officer and the second-in-command of the embarked Royal Marines. In an effort to reduce the battering his ship was suffering, her captain shifted course and brought the old cruiser alongside the mole at one minute past midnight on St George’s Day. Unfortunately, although this action saved the ship from further damage, it meant that she came alongside a good 275m (900ft) from the intended spot. It had been hoped that from this location, behind the main defensive trenches, the mole guns could swiftly be stormed. The troops would now be exposed in the middle of the mole. Moreover, it proved difficult to hold the ship in place against a fast tide and lively swell. The grapnels that were to have secured her could not be attached to the mole, and she had to be held in position by Daffodil, which prevented many of the troops on the ferry from landing. The movement of Vindictive, heavy fire from the defenders and damage to the ramps meant that the assault troops got ashore more slowly than was anticipated. Many were killed or wounded before they could disembark. Iris got alongside the mole, but encountered similar problems getting her troops onto it because of the height of the parapet above her deck.
The Zeebrugge raid. This map shows just how formidable and well defended an objective the mole was, and how it shielded the entrance to the Bruges canal. It also indicates the planned and actual location of the assault ships and the blockships.
HMS Vindictive during the raid. Vindictive was an obsolete Arrogant-class protected cruiser, converted to act as the lead assault ship for the attack on the mole at Zeebrugge. She was fitted with additional armour, ramps for the troops and additional weaponry for fire support.
‘At a time when most news seemed bad, the Zeebrugge raid seemed a welcome sign that the Royal Navy was willing and able to conduct an audacious operation against the enemy-held coast.’
One part of the plan did unfold as intended; at about 12.20am the crew of the submarine C3 succeeded in navigating their way through the harbour and rammed the boat into the viaduct. They then disembarked into motor boats, as planned, and withdrew under increasing German fire. As they did so, the explosive-packed submarine detonated, destroying the viaduct and thereby isolating the mole, cutting communications and stranding any reinforcements.
Some assault troops did reach the mole and, despite the loss of most of their commanders, launched a number of spirited if sporadic attacks against the defenders. They came under heavy and effective fire from the garrison, protected in well prepared positions, and also from German destroyers moored on the far side of the mole. They could not reach either the artillery batteries or the other intended objectives; however, the main purpose of the assault was to provide a diversion to assist the blockships, which were the real point of the raid. This they achieved. Although the German guns engaged the blockships as they rounded the mole, their fire began later and was lighter than it would have been without the assault from Vindictive, Iris and Daffodil.
Thetis, the leading blockship, was supposed to enter the canal and then steam three-quarters of a kilometre (half a mile) into it, before ramming the lock-gates. As she approached the canal she was badly damaged by heavy gunfire, and then her propeller became entangled in an anti-submarine net. She became impossible to steer, so her captain detonated the scuttling charges. She sank just short of the canal entrance. However, she had drawn the fire of the German gunners and had cleared the nets, thus easing the approach of the other two blockships. The second, Intrepid, managed to steam into the canal and scuttle herself in the planned position across the channel. Unfortunately Thetis had been instructed only to attack the lock-gates; had Intrepid’s captain shown a little more initiative, he might have tried to ram them himself – though navigating the channel and avoiding the German fire would not have been easy. The third blockship, Iphigenia, also entered the canal, and, despite colliding with Intrepid as she manoeuvred into position, scuttled herself across the channel.
At 12.50am, as the blockships sank and their crews were taken off, the recall signal was sounded on the mole, and Vindictive re-embarked the survivors from the assault parties. As the ships withdrew, Iris was hit hard by the German artillery and the supporting destroyer North Star was sunk.
Casualties were heavy, with over 200 men killed (more than 50 by a single shell that struck Iris as she withdrew) and 400 wounded, with 13 captured. One destroyer and two motor boats were lost.
The Ostend operation was simpler in conception, since there was no mole and hence no need or opportunity for a diversionary attack. Here, however, the German defenders were better prepared: the captain of the motor boat captured on 11 April was carrying a copy of the plans, so the Germans had been warned and moved two critical navigation buoys, making the already challenging task of approaching the canal all but impossible. The two intended blockships, Brilliant and Sirius, were both hit repeatedly by German fire, and then Brilliant ran aground. They could go no further so the scuttling charges were detonated, despite the blockships being some distance from the canal. Two later attempts were made, unsuccessfully, to block the canal at Ostend and a third was cancelled. No further attempt was made, largely because the increasing effectiveness of the Channel barrage (see Chapter 6) made it unnecessary.
German troops aboard HMS Vindictive after the Ostend raid. After the St George’s Day operation against Zeebrugge and Ostend, the latter was the target of another raid on 10 May, when Vindictive was sunk as a blockship. Her bow section is preserved as a monument in Ostend.
The mole at Zeebrugge dominated the harbour and was a major focus of the British raid. It comprised a 530m (1740ft) viaduct adjoining the land, then the curving 1692m (5550ft) mole, with a 238m (781ft) extension at the seaward end with a lighthouse. Any assault was made still more difficult by a high parapet on the seaward side of the mole, the top of which was 9.1m (30ft) above the water at high tide. For the Germans, this was an ideal location from which to defend the lock-gates behind it, and they stationed troops, artillery and machine guns there, protected by trenches and concrete shelters. It was also the location for a seaplane base, munitions stores and U-boat shelters. Little of the mole survives today due to the expansion of the port and the reclamation of the land around it, but part of the structure where the intense engagement of 1918 was fought still exists.
This photograph, from the author’s collection, shows what remains of the mole today.
The British initially believed that the Zeebrugge part of the operation had succeeded: aerial photographs seemed to show Intrepid and Iphigenia lying across the main channel of the canal. In fact, while the blockships caused some initial disruption, the Germans were able to find ways of working around them within a few days and were making full use of the canal by mid-May. This might seem a distinctly modest success in view of the 600 casualties suffered.
The raid, however, was hailed as a triumph – albeit benefiting from considerable embellishment in official accounts. It had an enormously positive effect on morale in the Navy and in the hard-pressed Army, as well as on press and public opinion in Britain and her allies. At a time when most news seemed bad, with the German offensive on the Western Front gaining considerable initial success, the Zeebrugge raid seemed a welcome sign that the Royal Navy was willing and able to conduct an audacious operation against the enemy-held coast. The Admiralty initially baulked at the high number of medals recommended by Keyes – including no fewer than 11 Victoria Crosses, the highest British award for valour – but they gave way in the face of his persistence and public acclaim.
The Zeebrugge operation was a bold and ambitious concept that was conducted with enormous determination and courage. There were significant weaknesses in the planning, however: too much improvisation, insufficient attention to important details and perhaps not enough questioning of optimistic assumptions. It seemed to rest on Keyes’s tendency to assume that enthusiasm alone could overcome any difficulty. Nevertheless, even if its military impact was slight, the timely and considerable boost it provided to morale was of great value.
After the Battle of Jutland, the High Seas Fleet made three further sorties into the North Sea, but these were tentative and suggested an awareness of how narrowly the fleet had escaped heavy defeat. As the emphasis of German naval strategy switched to the U-boat campaign, morale among the crews of their surface fleet began to fall.
This collapse of morale was partly a reflection of the wider picture for Germany. As the British blockade exerted an ever tighter grip, the German population began to suffer terribly from a lack of food and fuel. Feelings of disillusionment only increased as long-promised success failed to materialize either on land or from the U-boat campaign. Popular dissatisfaction was reflected in growing political unrest across the country and swiftly spread to naval personnel.
The inactivity of the surface fleet led to boredom and meant that sailors were less prepared than before to overlook poor living conditions. Despite the priority given to the armed forces in the allocation of food, the shortages that hit the country in the 1916/17 winter even affected the army and the navy. The effect was magnified by the fact that in many cases, officers received better food than their men, which in turn worsened an increasing distance and lack of sympathy between them. The transfer of many of the more able officers and crew to the U-boat arm, and their replacement with less experienced men, removed what might have been a prop for discipline. Socialist agitation and propaganda found fertile ground as a result of the other sources of dissatisfaction. Initial disciplinary problems led to harsh repression, which only further fuelled the sailors’ resentment.
As early as the summer of 1917 disciplinary problems emerged in the High Seas Fleet with protests over living conditions. In July 1917 many of the crew of the battleship Prinzregent Luitpold refused orders, with disobedience spreading to the Friedrich der Grosse and the cruiser Pillau. Further disruption followed in early August in other battleships. The navy blamed this on agitation by political activists; some men were shot, more were imprisoned. Such action only temporarily quietened the grievances.
March 1918 saw a major German Army offensive that enjoyed initial success, but which petered out in July, at huge cost. It was swiftly followed by renewed offensives launched by the increasingly effective British and French armies, and then by United States forces, whose divisions were pouring into Europe, further damaging German military and civilian morale. In addition, the British naval blockade continued to bite, heightening a general war-weariness, while military success seemed ever less likely. The sentiment among the population in Germany was growing more hostile to the war and the political atmosphere was becoming genuinely revolutionary. The government was riven by internal divisions and was subject to mounting criticism in parliament and press. Then Germany’s allies began to tumble: at the end of September 1918, following a successful Allied offensive, Bulgaria agreed an armistice. Shortly afterwards, Turkey opened negotiations with the Allies and, on 30 October, onboard the battleship HMS Agamemnon, signed an armistice – one condition of which was to hand over to the Allies the Dardanelles forts that had eluded them in 1915. Austria-Hungary was clearly on the verge of complete collapse.
Of all the senior Royal Navy officers during World War I, Keyes was the most Nelsonian in spirit. At the outbreak of the war he was commodore of the Submarine Flotilla. He then became chief of staff to the commander of British naval forces off the Dardanelles, where his was always an enthusiastic voice for action. After 15 months with the Grand Fleet and promotion to rear admiral, in September 1917 he became Director of Plans at the Admiralty, where he turned his imagination and energy to the pressing U-boat threat. He was given a direct role in implementing his ideas when he took charge of the Dover Command at the start of 1918. The Zeebrugge raid failed in its aim of stemming the U-boat threat – though it delivered an enormous boost to Allied morale – but his other main project, overhauling the Channel barrage, proved far more successful. Promoted to Admiral of the Fleet in 1930, he left the Navy and became a member of Parliament. In 1940 he was appointed Director of Combined Operations by another old Admiralty hand, Prime Minister Winston Churchill. Keyes was hugely brave and determined, but his great desire for positive action sometimes led him to overlook the practicalities involved.
Matters were little better in the German Navy. In August 1918, Admiral Scheer became Chief of the Naval Staff, with Hipper replacing him as commander-in-chief of the High Seas Fleet. What should have been the culmination of Scheer’s wartime service was soon revealed to be a poisoned chalice. That same month there were what he called ‘signs of insubordination’ among some crews in the battlefleet. Scheer still believed in using U-boats against British merchant shipping as Germany’s last best hope, yet this weapon was soon snatched from his hands. With Germany’s war effort clearly on its last legs, the government approached United States President Woodrow Wilson to seek a negotiated end. On 14 October Wilson demanded as a precondition an end to U-boat attacks on merchant ships. The German Government felt it could not refuse and, overruling Scheer’s objections, ordered an end to the U-boat campaign against commerce. The situation on the ground was also deteriorating: between these dates, the Germans had evacuated Ostend and then Zeebrugge in front of the advancing Allies.
Fireworks from the High Seas Fleet in Wilhelmshaven on the proclamation of the German Republic, November 1918. The mutinous crews of the Imperial Germany Navy helped to contribute to the revolutionary atmosphere that spread though the country in the closing days of the war.
Scheer decided to use the U-boats with the battlefleet in one last operation against the British. The plan was for German light forces to attack shipping in the Thames estuary and to bombard the Belgian coast. These activities would, it was hoped, draw out the British battlefleet, which would then be weakened by mines and torpedo attacks before a great, final confrontation off the Dutch coast with the German battlefleet. Hipper was to command a mighty force including five battlecruisers, 18 Dreadnoughts, 12 light cruisers and 70 destroyers. Should the British not emerge, this fleet would head towards Rosyth to confront them.
The crew of the SMS König. The sailors of the High Seas Fleet had become disillusioned with the country’s leadership and with their senior officers, in part because of the passive way in which the surface fleet had been used. Orders for what was seen as a ‘death cruise’ were the last straw for discipline.
Scheer believed that this operation might put military pressure on the Allies that would favourably influence the ongoing negotiations for an armistice. He also felt – albeit to a lesser extent than some other officers – that even a valiant defeat, inflicting some losses on the British, would be preferable to meekly surrendering. Such a battle would salvage some pride for the navy and would establish a heroic legacy that might inspire a future fleet. The planned operation, therefore, did have a strategic rationale, albeit a remarkably optimistic one, and was not a mere kamikaze operation or ‘death cruise’, as it has sometimes been called. It is perhaps understandable, however, that many of the long-suffering crews of the High Seas Fleet did not see it this way. In the febrile atmosphere of what were clearly the closing stages of the war, the view rapidly spread among the sailors that the planned operation would simply throw away their lives for no worthwhile purpose and was designed solely to disrupt the armistice negotiations. The men who had endured so much over the past four years had simply had enough.
A German U-boat crew in 1917. Despite the harsh conditions and heavy losses that they endured, the discipline of the U-boat arm survived to the end of the war. The commanders of the High Seas Fleet even considered using the U-boats against those of their own capital ships that were controlled by mutineers.
Some isolated acts of disobedience occurred at Cuxhaven Wilhelmshaven on 27 and 28 October. The disruption escalated on 29 October when the fleet was ordered to raise steam and prepare to leave port for the final operation against the British. Crewmen from Derfflinger and Von der Tann refused to return from leave, and there was outright mutiny on the Dreadnoughts König, Kronprinz Wilhelm and Markgraf. The unrest spread to more battleships and escalated on 30 October, to the extent that Hipper was forced to call off the operation. Some men were arrested and the battle squadrons of the High Seas Fleet were dispersed to other ports, though this only spread the problem. On 31 October, U-boats and destroyers threatened to open fire on the battleships Thüringen and Helgoland; the mutineers went as far as manning the guns of the two Dreadnoughts before backing down. Some of the stricken warships arrived in Kiel on 1 November and the ringleaders were arrested, triggering mass demonstrations by sailors demanding their release. There were suggestions that troops should be used to restore order, but this was impossible since the soldiers were animated by a similar spirit to that of their naval colleagues. By 4 November, a Sailors’ and Workers’ Council had taken control of Kiel and the red flag was flying over the base. Within a few days, the same occurred at the naval bases of Wilhelmshaven, Cuxhaven and Heligoland, and then at Hamburg and Cologne. A naval mutiny had become a national revolution. On 9 November, the red flag was raised over the Dreadnought Baden, the flagship of the once proud High Seas Fleet. When the Kaiser was told that the navy could no longer be relied on, his reply was, ‘I no longer have a navy.’ The following day, the remaining warships no longer had an emperor, as the Kaiser abdicated and fled to the Netherlands.
Admiral Scheer wrote in his memoirs, with an understandable bitterness, that although the navy was let down by the government, ‘we suffered the bitterest disappointment at the hands of the crews of the fleet’.
During negotiations for an armistice – that is, a temporary suspension of hostilities – the fate of the German Navy became one of the central issues. The Allied navies wanted the High Seas Fleet to surrender as one of the preconditions for a ceasefire. Their governments, however, resisted such a tough stance, fearing that it might result in the Germans opting to continue fighting. The demand relating to the German Navy was therefore moderated: although its entire fleet of U-boats would have to be surrendered to the Allies, its principal surface units would be interned – that is, they would be disarmed and would fall under Allied supervision, but would still be owned by Germany, pending a final peace treaty. When the conditions were put to Germany, their naval representative objected even to internment on the grounds that the fleet had not been defeated; Admiral Sir Rosslyn Wemyss, the First Sea Lord, commented that in that case, they were welcome to come out and try their luck. For the German Government, with the country wracked by revolution, peace could not come too quickly. The armistice was signed, coming into effect on 11 November 1918.
SMS Markgraf at anchor in Scapa Flow. Given what the battleships and battlecruisers of the High Seas Fleet had been through, their crews were deeply unhappy about being interned under the guns of the Royal Navy. Eventually, they found a way to express their disgruntlement.
Organizing the guard of port protection troops in Hamburg Harbour, 1919. Conditions in Germany remained difficult after the war, during the long armistice negotiations, for civilians and demobilized soldiers alike. The naval blockade was not lifted until the final peace treaty was signed.
The war was over. The Grand Fleet was given the order to ‘splice the main brace’; that is, in accordance with tradition, to give all crewmen a celebratory tot of rum. There had been no great culminating clash of the battlefleets – to the great disappointment of the British – and the German Navy could claim that tactically, it was undefeated. Strategically, however, the Royal Navy had won: it had neutralized the High Seas Fleet, it had enforced the blockade and it had – just – defeated the U-boat campaign.
The United States wanted the German warships interned in a neutral port, but no neutral state was prepared to host the rebellious fleet. The 74 German warships specified in the armistice agreement would therefore be sent to Scapa Flow, the erstwhile home base of the force that had defeated them.
On the morning of 20 November, the first instalment of 20 U-boats surrendered to the Royal Navy. They were met by destroyers of the Harwich Force and escorted into port – in silence, on the strict orders of Rear Admiral Tyrwhitt. Eventually 176 U-boats made their final journey to Harwich.
The main event occurred on 21 November. Seydlitz, the veteran of so many operations and the survivor of so many near escapes, led the High Seas Fleet into internment. Under the command of Vice Admiral Ludwig von Reuter, nine Dreadnoughts, five battlecruisers, seven light cruisers and 49 destroyers steamed to Rosyth. Although their guns had been disabled, the Allies took no chances and seized the chance to display the naval power that had helped to win the war. The German vessels passed through a force of 370 battle-ready warships, mostly from the Grand Fleet – reflecting the balance of effort in the war at sea – but also including a cruiser and two destroyers from France and a battle squadron from the United States. The event was overseen by Admiral Beatty, who felt cheated of his chance for a crushing victory in battle and who had argued for surrender rather than internment. The latter was imposed on him by his political leaders, but he blurred the distinction by ordering that the ships of the High Seas Fleet haul down their colours. Reuter protested, but had to accede, and at sunset the ensign of the Imperial German Navy came down across the fleet.
Vice Admiral Ludwig von Reuter had the difficult task of leading the High Seas Fleet into internment, followed by the still more testing role of overseeing it during the peace negotiations. He put his time to good effect, drawing up careful and effective plans to scuttle the fleet.
The ships were checked to ensure that they had been disarmed according to the agreement, and then, over the next few days, steamed in groups to Scapa Flow under heavy escort. They were eventually joined there by other ships to make up the agreed 74, including the erstwhile flagship Baden, as well as another battlecruiser, one more light cruiser and one destroyer. Scapa Flow became the uncomfortable home for these ships, with skeleton crews for minimum maintenance, during the interminable peace negotiations in Paris. Discipline problems continued, becoming sufficiently serious on the flagship for Reuter to shift his command to the light cruiser Emden, the ship named after the earlier light cruiser scuttled in the Cocos Islands in 1914 after her short but successful career as a commerce raider.
For Britain, winning the war at sea was vital if she was to continue fighting. Yet how could sea power contribute to victory in the war as a whole? The attempt to use maritime power to break the deadlock with an amphibious operation in the Dardanelles failed – though sea power helped to sustain campaigns in the Middle East that were, eventually, successful. On the other hand, navies allowed Britain and France to bring to bear in Europe the military and economic power of their overseas empires. It also carried safely to Europe the fresh American forces that helped to turn the tide. Its key contribution to victory, however, was the economic blockade of Germany, which weakened the fighting power and morale of her army and navy, and undermined her home front to the point of revolution. In combination with the long campaigns on land that consumed Germany’s military power, the blockade eroded her ability and will to keep fighting. The historian and former army officer Basil Liddell Hart concluded that the Royal Navy did ‘more than any other factor towards wining the war for the Allies’, because it kept open the seas and, in particular, because it maintained the blockade, ‘the decisive agency in the struggle’.
The German ships became the source of disagreements among the Allies, with France and Italy each wanting to gain possession of them, the United States wanting to avoid them being transferred to the Royal Navy, and Britain just wanting them destroyed. The German crews had originally assumed that their ships would be returned to Germany at the conclusion of negotiations, but it soon became clear that this was not going to happen. Concern grew that they might have to be surrendered to Britain or that the Royal Navy might pre-empt the diplomatic settlement and seize them by force. Their officers and crews agreed that they would rather have their ships sunk by their own hands than be taken by Britain, so during June 1919, Reuter devised meticulous plans to scuttle the fleet. On 20 June he learned from newspapers that the armistice was to expire the following day (in fact, the deadline was postponed), with Germany having to choose between accepting the proposed treaty or having hostilities reopen. Reuter suspected that this would be the cue for the British to storm his ships, and decided to order the scuttling of the fleet the next day.
The scuttled SMS Hindenburg in Scapa Flow, 1919. She was one of the last German battlecruisers, commissioned in 1917, but never saw action. She accompanied the rest of the fleet into internment and was scuttled alongside the other capital ships. Hindenburg was salvaged and sold for scrap in 1930.
Surrendered U-boats in Harwich. While the Allied governments were prepared – despite the objections of senior naval officers – to allow the concession of internment rather than surrender to the surface units of the High Seas Fleet, they were adamant that the more threatening U-boats must be surrendered.
On the morning of 21 June, the 1st Battle Squadron of the Royal Navy departed for gunnery practice. At 10.30am Reuter sent the pre-arranged signal, ‘Paragraph eleven. Confirm.’ An hour later all the ships had acknowledged; the Imperial German ensign was raised over the ships once again as they began to sink, their crews having opened them to the sea. The Royal Navy destroyers that were present urgently signalled the battlefleet to return and frantic efforts were made to save the sinking ships; they succeeded with the Dreadnought Baden, four light cruisers and 32 destroyers. But the bulk of the High Seas Fleet sank: nine Dreadnoughts, six battlecruisers, four cruisers and 32 destroyers, totalling over 406,400 tonnes (400,000 tons). The warships sunk included names familiar from earlier chapters of this book – the battlecruisers Seydlitz, Moltke, Von der Tann, Derfflinger and the Dreadnoughts Friedrich der Grosse, König and Grosser Kurfürst.
The British, though embarrassed, were not too displeased at the outcome, since it removed a thorny political problem over how the German ships should be distributed among the Allies. The French and the Italians were furious. The general reaction among the personnel of the German Navy was not to mourn this sad end for their fleet, but rather to feel proud that it had recaptured its honour with one last gesture of defiance, under the noses of their principal enemy. In Scheer’s words, ‘the stain of surrender has been wiped out from the escutcheon of the German Fleet. The sinking of the ships has proved that the spirit of the fleet is not dead.’
World War I was formally ended by the 1919 Treaty of Versailles. One clause of the treaty required Germany to hand over all eight of her remaining Dreadnoughts, as well as a further eight light cruisers and 42 more destroyers. The future German Navy was not allowed any submarines, nor any warships over 10,160 tonnes (10,000 tons) – and only six this size. Some of the warships that formed the backbone of the Royal Navy in World War I would go on to render sterling service in World War II. In the course of it, they would fight a navy heartened by the spirit of the High Seas Fleet, the leading ships of which were new but carried names such as Tirpitz, Scheer, Hipper and Von Spee.