Sea
fights of the Great War
. By W.L.
Wyllie R.A. & M.F. Wren
“Goeben” and
“Breslau”-The Far East: Siege Of Tsingtau
In good old days when our men-o-war still carried sails, when
snowy decks and bright brass work were considered much more important
than gunnery; easy going days when engines of 20,000 horse power were
spoken of with awe and wonder, and wireless messages of the submarine
were yet undreamed of, the Mediterranean Fleet was a symbol of the power
of Britain. All the newest
creations of our best designers, the “Alexandras,” “Sultans,”
“Monarchs,” or “Inflexibles” of that time were sent out to serve
long commission under the famous Admirals who carried out the evolutions
of their sea monsters with such marvellous perfection.
The Mediterranean Fleet was sea power personified.
It could demolish a few miles of Egyptian forts, terrorise a
coastline, or overawe refractory islanders in the Aegean.
It held the communications between the near and the Far East.
After a gale, when its units had ridden with topmasts housed and
lower yards on the hammock netting, the ships of the Mediterranean
Fleet, when the signal was made to cross to gallant yards, would send
the spas aloft and have everything ready to make all plain sail in fewer
minutes than any other fleet. In
it the rate of signalling was much faster, and the sailing and rowing
regattas were the envy of all other squadrons.
With the rise of the German Navy our most powerful ships were, as
time went on, ordered to join fleets nearer England.
New names were invented, such as Atlantic and Home fleets, while
the men-o-war sent to show our flag and keep up out prestige in the Near
East dwindled from year to year. The
Liberal Governments had not built sufficiently to keep up our sea power
on all seas.
At the outbreak of the present war the fleet in the Mediterranean
was composed as follows:
Three battle cruisers: Inflexible (flag of Admiral Sir Berkeley
Milne), Indomitable, and Indefatigable.
Four cruisers: Defence (flag of Rear-Admiral Troubridge),
Warrior, Duke of Edinburgh, and Black Prince.
Four light cruisers: Chatham, Weymouth, Dublin, and Gloucester.
One parent ship: Blenheim, and sixteen destroyers.
One dispatch vessel: Hussar.
We had no Dreadnoughts or super-Dreadnoughts.
Vague rumours of European unrest had been floating about for some
time, and officers on leave in Cairo and other places had been recalled;
then, on July 28th 1914 the ships left Alexandria, steaming
west. There were to have
been practice night attacks by destroyers, but these were not carried
out, the crews being exercised in war routine instead, sham fighting
giving place to real. The
ammunition for the 4-inch guns was brought up, and at midnight the speed
of the ships was increased to twenty knots.
The peace of Europe seemed in great danger. When Malta was reached on the 30th the fleet found
the town seething with excitement; all the troops on the island had been
mobilised. Indomitable was
in docks; she had just started to refit, but she was brought out, and at
once began taking in ammunition. All
officers were warned of the importance of secrecy, both in letters and
in conversation. There were
plenty of German spies about, as indeed throughout the Empire.
All gear was to be landed. On
Friday, the 31st the news was serious: France and Russia were
mobilising. The whole day
was spent getting provisions, ammunition, and fusing the lyddite shells.
All bright work was painted over; even the priceless white enamel
of Hussar, on which so much money and labour had been expended, was
hurriedly daubed over with grey. Sea
boats were topped up into their fighting positions, and all the rest,
except the boom boats, were put ashore.
The bulk of the craft put to sea on August 1st.
Those which remained darkened ship, sentries with loaded rifles
were posted fore and aft, picket boats with armed crews patrolled the
harbour, and the boom defence was put into position.
Black Prince, which was to have carried Lord Kitchener from
Marseilles to Egypt, returned on the 3rd, for this great
soldier had more important work to do in England.
Martial law and a Moratorium were declared in Malta.
There was news that Germany had declared war on Russia, and that
the Cabinet was meeting in London to discuss the attitude of England.
Inflexible left the Grand Harbour with all guns loaded, hands at
night defence stations, and ship darkened.
Next day it was known that the Kaiser’s Government had asked
Belgium’s permission for troops to pass through her territory; that
this had been refused, and that England had sent an ultimatum to
Germany, which expired at midnight on the 4th.
Captains of some of the ships gave interesting lectures on the
European situation to their ships companies.
There were two fast German ships in these waters; Goeben, which
carried ten 11-inch and twelve 6-inch guns, could steam twenty-eight
knots; and Breslau, one of the “Town” class, armed with twelve
4-inch guns. They had been
up the Adriatic, but were reported off Bizerta.
The French were, at this moment, transporting the 19th
Army Corps, a considerable number of troops, from Algeria and Tunis to
help their Mother Country against threatened invasion.
On the 3rd there was between France and Germany, and
the fast German ships, making their appearance off Bona and Philipville,
bombarded those towns and steamed away.
It must be remembered that the problem set before the British
Fleet was difficult in the extreme.
We were not yet at war but the transports of our friends the
French had to be protected from attack by the German ships, which,
though no match for our three battle cruisers, were, in consequence of
their greater speed, able to choose their own object or moment for
attack. No one new where
the stroke might fall, nor could guess that the real object of the
Kaiser’s Government was only to bring the two ships to Constantinople,
where their presence might help Enver Pasha and the Young Turks Party in
their guilty plot to drag their country into the war which was seen to
be impending.
Only six hours before war was declared, two of our battle
cruisers, Indomitable and Indefatigable, actually met the two Germans
cruising between Sicily and Sardinia.
Our ships, steaming westward, passed within 2,000 yards of the
Goebun, which was heading towards the straits of Messina.
If only it had been possible to stop these two ships, the whole
course of the war in the East might have been different.
Turkey might never have entered the war, and there would have
been peace in Armenia and Mesopotamia.
We should have been spared the heartbreaking reports of
prisoner’s sufferings in Asia Minor, and the glorious but fatal
expeditions to the Gallipolo Peninsula might never had happened.
Unfortunately, the ultimatum had not expired; therefore our
powerful ships could only turn and follow after their probable enemies,
hoping for the moment when they could bring them to action.
The speed of Goeben and Breslau, however, was twenty-eight knots,
and, steam as the British ships might, the distance gradually lengthened
till the Germans became only puffs of smoke below the horizon.
Course was therefore altered, Indomitable going to Bizerta to
coal, while Inflexible and Indefatigable kept watch off the south-east
of Sardinia, with steam for full speed at one hours notice, hoping to
waylay the Goeben if she had another try at the French transports.
At 1.45 a.m. on Wednesday, August 5th, our ships in
the Mediterranean waters received the expected signal: “WAR DECLARED
WITH GERMANY.”
Chatham captured a German collier; first blood to us.
On the 6th, not meeting the Germans, the two battle
cruisers became uneasy and steered towards the northern entrance of the
Straits of Messina. Indomitable joined up shortly afterwards, and at dusk a
message came from Gloucester, which was watching the southern entrance
of the Straits, that Goeben and Breslau were coming out.
A little later they were reported steering eastward.
At this moment the four cruisers, Defence, Warrior, Duke of
Edinburgh, and Black Prince, were off Cephalonia, but Dublin, a light
cruiser, was farther to the south, with two destroyers, and an order was
sent to her to make a night attack on the enemy ships.
Most unfortunately, the night was pitch dark, and, steering
without lights, she missed them by a few miles.
The plucky little Gloucester was still shadowing the two German
cruisers, and now reported the enemy to be steering to the northward,
running in the direction of Rear-Admiral Troubridge and his squadron.
On the 7th the Admiral reported that he had failed to
find Goeben and Breslau.
The French Admiral now signalled that he would finish convoying
the troops from Africa on the 10th; so the three battle
cruisers, Inflexible, Indomitable, and Indefatigable, having coaled at
Malta, once more started in chase of the still elusive Germans.
They were to slow to catch them, though in the meantime
Gloucester had had a very long-range action with Breslau.
Goeben tried to take part, but Gloucester withdrew out of range,
still continuing to shadow the Germans until shortness of coal caused
her recall.
The two German cruisers, henceforth undisturbed, rounded Cape
Matapan and proceeded under easy steam up the Aegean Sea.
The battle cruisers, about fifty miles astern, searched the Greek
islands without result. Next
day an Italian tramp steamer reported that both our enemies were at
anchor off Chanak, so speed was increased, and the Dardanelle’s were
reached at 10 p.m. Weymouth,
going in near the forts, was fired at with blank cartridge, and in the
morning a Turkish officer, boarding the ship from the shore, informed
the captain that Goeben and Breslau had been sold to Turkey.
They were, however, still flying the German flag when they sent
an armed party on board a Messageries Maritimes steamer in neutral
waters and forced the crew to dismantle their wireless.
With the finish of the chase of Goeben and Breslau, our account
of the doings of the Mediterranean Fleet comes to an end for the
present. Many of the ships composing it were sent to other seas. In
the meantime events were rapidly maturing in the Far East.
On Tuesday, July 28th, a squadron of British ships was
lying in Wei-hai-wei, consisting of the armoured cruiser Minotaur,
flying the flag of Vice-Admiral Sir Martyn Jerram, K.C.B., the cruisers
Hampshire and Yarmouth, and the Admiral’s yacht, Alacrity.
Accompanying the squadron were the destroyers Kennet, Ribble,
Colne, Usk, well and, and Hesper. None
were there in any expectation of active service.
There were four French ships in that part of the world-the
cruisers Dupleix and Montcalm, and the sloops Decidee and D’lberville.
They were equally unrepentant, though all navies, even in
peacetime, pursue their duties prepared at any moment for the supreme
test of war.
The Germans had, in Chinese waters, the armoured cruisers
Scharnhorst, flagship of Admiral Count Spee; Gneisenau, her sister ship;
the light cruisers Emden, Nurnbeg, and Leipzig; also S 90, which we
should call a destroyer, the old Taku, and several auxiliary cruisers.
The Austrian cruiser Kaiserin Elisabeth was also on the station.
It is a matter that only the future can decide if these ships
were ignorant and unwarned.
Early in the afternoon an order was issued recalling the
Hampshire, which happened to be firing at sea.
This was the squadron’s first warning.
Yarmouth was told to hurry up her coaling, whilst the flagship
primed, topped all boilers and made ready for the lighters.
Later came a press message to say that tension between Austria
and Serbia was strained. This
euphemism for what was imminent at once altered the Admiral’s policy
of usual peacetime cruising in far eastern waters.
He at once prepared for all contingencies.
The British squadron had been in the harbour two short days.
The usual carnival of gaiety and pleasure was at once abandoned.
Arrangements for sports, a regatta, a projected cruise to Japan,
were cancelled. On
Wednesday, the 29th, the squadron’s powerful leader,
Minotaur, started coaling at 3 a.m. Another press message flew across
the cable saying that Sir Edward Grey had called a conference of Germany
and France, with other powers concerned, in London, to settle the
dispute; to decide Serbia’s official responsibility for the
assassination of the Austrian Crown Prince.
Almost at the same time a Press message added to its warning the
news that Austria refused to attend, and that Russia was ready, and
arming to the teeth, to invade Austria the moment the latter crossed the
Serbian frontier.
As evening fell Yarmouth, four destroyers, and two picket boats
slipped from their moorings to patrol the entrance to the harbour. The flagship continued her preparations until 10 p.m. taking
in 860 tons of coal, while her four 12-pounders were manned all night
ready for any emergency.
Meanwhile Usk, on her patrol, stopped a Japanese steamer
attempting to enter harbour without lights, and she was brought to
anchor for the night. This
action showed the comp0lication of the situation.
All the destroyers had shipped warheads on their torpedoes, and
the big ships were fully provisioned.
War, so far as the officers were concerned, brooded at last over
even this far distant squadron of our fleet.
On the following day at 9 a.m. a signal was made by the
Commander-in-Chief, intended as a general warning, that there was a
possibility of a European war, and he trusted that officers and men
would use their utmost endeavours to prepare for hostilities, with all
possible energy and speed. Almost simultaneously came the ominous news that the Siberian
mail route was closed. Such
an action proved beyond any doubt how deeply Russia was involved.
Alacrity sailed for Hong Kong, taking any civilians wishing to
go. The day was spent
landing woodwork, chests, field guns, spare boats; in fact, every
article that could hamper or impede efficiency.
The crews were frapping rigging, shipping warheads, striking down
rifles and wires, putting the ships in readiness for action.
Two destroyers and Yarmouth were still watching and keeping guard
outside. Steam was ordered
for twelve knots, and a meeting place was fixed with Newcastle, which
was on its way from Japan.
Hampshire and the destroyers coaled ceaselessly all day, and all
officers personal gear was dumped ashore, except a minimum uniform and
underclothing, gunroom officers being allowed one tin case each; the
days of all luxury and inactivity were ended.
Two guns forward and two aft were to be manned when the ships got
under way. The men were
quite cheerful, but sceptical that the great hour, the object of all the
training, was close at hand. The
Chinese seemed more frightened, and the “makee lerns” left the ships
like rats that scented danger. The
gunroom mess men appeared likely to follow suit.
Only the boom-boats and the first and second cutters were
retained. Necessity knew no
law so far as freedom of action was concerned.
Everything had to give way to efficiency.
On Friday, 31st, Minotaur and Hampshire, with the
destroyers Colne, Kennet, Welland and Ribble put to sea, leaving Usk,
which was coaling, to follow with any further telegrams.
During the night, Usk, which had started to rejoin the flag,
tried continuously to signal. Both
she and Yarmouth were so interfered with by atmospheric disturbances
that it was almost impossible to pass anything.
The very elements seemed disturbed.
It was hard to believe that the squadron was not merely at
manoeuvres expecting a destroyer to steam past burning a Verey light.
The men appeared to take things easy and considered that the
whole business was a scare, bound to end in a fizzle as so many scares
had done before. No
official news was published, and all the Press news was German and
tended rather to obscurity than revelation.
Apparently Austria and Serbia had had a three hours battle, and
Russia and France were openly mobilising masses of troops towards the
German frontiers. The war
cloud was gradually growing blacker and blacker, spreading over the
whole horizon-as the clouds of thunder gather in a summer sky.
On August 1st
the squadron was proceeding towards Hong Kong, Newcastle pushing on at a
speed of twenty knots. On
the horizon her glittering gun muzzles flashed in the sunlight.
She was ordered to paint bright work instantly and so dim her
appearance.
Whatnews was available showed that war was unavoidable.
The Austrians were bombarding Belgrade; the Germans and Belgians
had proclaimed martial law; both had stopped the export of foodstuffs;
the Russians were still mobilising their mighty forces on the German
frontier; the alarm at home caused a rush on the Bank of England-notes
were being badly exchanged for gold, and the stock exchange had been
paralysed into closing its doors. As
the squadron was under way a “stand-up Church” was held on the
quarterdeck of the flagship, at which the two hymns were sung: “Fight
the Good Fight” and “Holy Father.” A Communion service in the Commander-in-Chief’s after cabin
followed this. Only the
great god of battles could now decide the issue.
Still later news arrived.
The German Emperor had made a speech ringing with blood and
thunder to his people, which was received with great enthusiasm.
At noon an English Press telegram followed, stating that Germany
had sent a twelve hours ultimatum to Russia to cease her war like
preparations. Twelve short
hours only before our own decision must be made.
Yarmnouth’s instructions were to await the telegraphic news of
the result of the German ultimatum at Shanghai and at once to transmit
particulars, and proceed to Hong Kong at a speed of twenty knots. At this time the Hong Kong newspapers reported that Germany
and Russia were actually at war; that Germany had invaded France, and
threatened Belgium with dire consequences if she refused the passage of
troops through her territory, and that the latter had appealed to
England as one of the protecting Powers.
Such an appeal to the greatest Empire of the world could have but
the result.
The eventful day arrived, Wednesday, August 5th 1914.
Great Britain declared war against Germany, and at 10 o’clock
the same evening the Admiral announced to the officers and men of his
fleet the receipt of the following message from His Majesty the King.
It was eloquent and studied to suit the most gigantic decision of
all history:
“At this grave moment in our National History I send to the
officers and men of the fleets the assurance of my confidence.
They will revive and renew the old glories of the Royal Navy, and
prove once again the sure shield of Britain and of her Empire in this
hour of trial.”
The following is the reply sent by the Commander-in-Chief:
“The officers and men of the China Squadron send their loyal
and dutiful thanks to His majesty the King, and will endeavour to prove
themselves worthy of his confidence.”
Here is a description of the crisis taken from a newspaper
cutting out East: “A mariner who has arrived in Kobe from Hong Kong
gives some interesting particulars of the scenes in the harbour on
August 5th. All the men-o-war were cleared for action, and their funnels
were belching forth great columns of smoke in preparation for the
squadron’s departure on the morrow.
The Greatest activity prevailed on board until late at night, and
the men appeared to be in highest spirits, judging from the hearty way
in which they sang at their work.
“Suddenly the noise on board Minotaur ceased, and in the gloom
the men could be seen massed upon the deck evidently listening to a
speech from the Admiral. At
the close they burst into wild cheering, which was renewed again and
again. Then the band struck
up ‘God save the King’ and the men on board sang it with the
greatest gusto. It was
taken up by one man-o-war after another until the harbour seemed to echo
to the music. Even the
crews of the merchant steamers joined in their outburst of patriotic
emotion. The
‘Marseillaise’ was then played on board the flagship, which was the
signal for great cheering and singing on board the French cruiser
Dupleix.”
On Thursday morning, August 6th, the combined squadron
steamed out of harbour preceded by two minesweepers.
In passing Triumph and Dupleix three cheers were given by all
ships, and the “Marseillaise” was played by Minotaur’s band,
cementing the union of the Allies.
Ribble was in charge of harbour defence launches.
Chelmer was refitting, and Cadmus was going on special service. On August 7th a Press Bulletin was received from
home that England had brought two Dreadnoughts, one completed and the
other nearly so, which were to be called Erin and Agincourt
respectively, and had also taken up the destroyers Faulknor and Broke,
which was building for another foreign nation.
The old country was in earnest.
On Monday, August 10th, we are able to again take up
our narrative. At that time
three ships spread out on a line of bearing E.N.E. and W.S.W., with
Newcastle to starboard, Minotaur in the centre, and Hampshire to port at
five miles interval. Nothing was sighted all day, but just before midnight the
after lookout sounded the alarm and all crews closed up and trained
their guns on the quarter. Several
marines swore they saw lights astern; possibly they were over keen, for
on closer investigation the “secure” was sounded.
The night was dirty, with continual squalls and lightning;
officers and crews drowsed uncomfortably at their guns.
Next morning a collier was sighted to the northward. Hampshire made towards her, hoisting a signal to heave-to,
and sent an armed cutter to board her.
Meantime the hands went to general quarters, and Newcastle was
ordered to scout at full speed in quest of more ships.
One boat alone roused suspicion.
The collier proved to be Elspeth, a German, taking a cargo of
1,800 tons from Tsingtau to Yap. Yorkshire
took the crew off and then opened fire.
Three shells hit her, one of them on the waterline, while two
others caused fires to break out fore and aft.
The collier floated for a quarter of an hour and then her stern
began plunging and shipping seas. About
four minutes later she slid under stern first.
An explosion of compressed air and a fountain of spray were her
last signs of life as she sank. Two
boats and part of a deckhouse floated up from her.
These were afterwards swamped, and our ships again spread out on
their line of bearings.
Later Hampshire picked up two bags of mails floating in the sea
addressed to German ships. They
were supposed to have been thrown overboard by the captain of the
Elspeth when he saw that there was no chance of escape from our
man-o-war.
Nearly a fortnight had elapsed when the news came that
hostilities had commenced between Great Britain and Austria.
This had always been regarded as inevitable.
On Sunday a cheering message was received from Montcalm saying
that she was safe at some unmentioned place.
Japan now dispatched an ultimatum to Germany, expiring on the 23rd.
This was almost replica of the German demands made on Japan at
the end of her successful was against China.
She demanded that Germany should have over Tsingtau to her, to be
eventually given back to China. At
the same time all German warships were to be removed from Chinese and
Japanese waters. Japan
still remembered bitterly, and to her this was a moment of triumph, a
moment when Justice was once more on the seats of the mighty.
Monitaur reached Hong Kong for the second time on August 16th.
Hampshire was then very busy coaling; the Pando Delta was fitting
out as a hospital ship; the Jardine liner Empire as a store ship;
Chelmer was still in dock; Virago and Whiting were having an overhaul.
The flagship coaled all day, taking in oil and water, while the
Hampshire went into dry dock for a clean up.
Hong Kong had all the appearance of preparing for a siege. The various forts were surrounded with barbed wire, the Peak
had sandbag redoubts and hidden trenches all round it, and there were
field guns on Mount Kellit. The
town was fully garrisoned for defence.
Field hospitals were plentiful, and private German houses had
been utilised as barracks. All
the volunteers serving in banks and offices wore uniform all day and had
arms and ammunition ready to their hands.
The ships took in enough provisions to last until the end of
November. For once the Far
East seethed with European vigour and activity, perhaps never to regain
its old reputation of apathy and torpor.
The auxiliary cruiser Empress of Asia and this time came into
port, stripped of all woodwork and upholstery and painted a dull slate
grey. Aboard of her there
were R.N.R. officers and men, and a fair sprinkling of non-executive
naval men, invaluable in training and knowledge.
At 5 p.m. Minotaur and Hampshire slipped and put to sea at ten
knots, with navigation lights burning until clear of the sailing junks,
when they darkened ship. News
was to hand that Emden had captured a Russian Volunteer merchant
cruiser, and had sent her into Tsingtau.
Emden was thus beginning what was destined to become an historic
career.
The fateful Japanese ultimatum to Germany duly expired, and
Minotaur was ordered to Hong Kong, where she arrived next day for the
third time.
Knowing that Japan had declared war, a signal was received from
the enemy asking if we knew anything of the German steamer Paklat with
women and children aboard from Tsingtau.
We replied that she had been taken to Wei-hai-wei, where the
refugees were being given all consideration, and whence they were to be
assisted to reach their destinations.
So great were the precautions now that when leave was given to
officers and P.O.’s it was impossible to move more than a few hundred
yards on the Peak without being challenged and told “hands up.”
As a sidelight on the situation this is eloquent.
Minotaur had been warned that a typhoon was within 300 miles of
them, and a violent storm came on during the night.
They tore their way through it, and on Saturday they sighted and
closed with several craft one of which was packed with coolies crawling
over each other like a moving ant-heap.
After this adventure, on Sunday the 30th, the two
ships arrived at Singapore, where they received ovation after ovation as
they passed up the harbour. A
guard of honour with band playing and colours flying was drawn up on the
quay at the Western Docks where the ships made fast.
Here Vice-Admiral Sir Martyn Jerram, K.C.B., took up his quarters
ashore, the better to control the numerous allied squadrons working
under him, and the China Squadron as such ceased to exist-henceforward
merged in the general strategy of a great war, greater by sea than the
general public has yet realised.
The Siege Of Tsingtau
Two days before war was declared Triumph, which was undergoing a
thorough refit, had been ordered to commission and get ready for sea as
soon as possible. Her crew
at this time consisted of about twelve seaman and a few Chinese, the
remainder were made up from the crews of the small ships and river
gunboats, which were ordered to pay off.
Ammunition stores and coal came pouring in, and for three days
the dockyard sweated day and night to get the ship into working order.
When the gun boats crews were all on board, as Triumph was still
two hundred short, a detachment of officers and men from the Duke of
Cornwall’s Light Infantry were sent on board to act as marines.
Captain Fitzmaurice, senior officer on the Yangtze, joined on the
afternoon of the 6th, and the ship sailed at daylight next
morning for a base in the Saddle Islands, off Shanghai.
Only the keenest imagination can picture what a terrible state of
confusion there must have been on board.
The officers hardly knew each other by sight; no one could find
his way about the ship. The
soldiers were like fish out of water, and stores were lying about in
chaos. To make matters
worse, most of the auxiliary machinery broke down as soon as it was
tried, and hardly any of the electrical instruments would work.
Great care had to be taken to darken ship night, because the
enemy was believed to have abandoned Tsingtau, and might have to be
faced anywhere on the way, while Triumph was hardly in a state to fight
two well drilled cruisers, with heavy armament and manned by the best
German gun crews in the Far East.
Luckily, the voyage to the Saddle Islands was completed in
safety, and a week’s hard work made things more ship shape.
On top of her arrival at the Islands came the blockade of
Tsingtau and the capture of prizes.
One of them had mails from Emden and Prisia.
The latter made a bolt for a neutral port, and had a narrow shave
from being sunk, but was sighted again under our guns, steaming without
lights. Order was
immediately given to open fire, and the searchlights were switched on,
throwing their beams across the waste sea.
Fortunately for the Prisia, the gun layers did not spot her at
once, and only one gun was fired, the shell exploding under her stern.
The German captain, to whom retreat was impossible at once turned
on all his lights and went astern.
A prize crew of one officer and four men was immediately put on
board to sail her to Wei-hai-wei.
Later that night a wireless message flashed through the air the
warning that the Eastern German Fleet was believed to be approaching
Tsingtau, so Triumph at once went to Wei-hai-wei, where all the Duke of
Cornwall’s Light Infantry were sent back to Hong Kong, as the regiment
had orders to leave at once. They
were a great loss. They
were no longer a make shift complement as they had shaken down, and had
really done remarkably well in the time they had at their disposal.
By the first week in September Triumph was worked up to something
like a state of efficiency. There
had been sham night attacks nearly every evening to exercise the
searchlights; battle practice was carried out at a towed target, and the
shooting was calculated and good. A
torpedo was fired, and though the gyroscope was in bad adjustment, it
did a fairly good run. The
possible speed of the ship was only sixteen knots, owing to a defective
shaft which would need six weeks n a dockyard to make good, a period not
to be thought of.
Ten days of September had passed in practice and captivity when
Triumph was ordered to join Japanese Admiral in command of the fleet now
operating against Tsingtau. She
went to sea in a typhoon, knocking about in the heavy sea had shipping a
lot of water. She beat the
weather, and with the destroyer Usk two days later joined a fleet of
about fifty ships, including out-of-date battleships, cruisers,
destroyers, minesweepers, and odd craft of every description.
Having found her squadron, Triumph steamed every night slowly out
to sea, turning at 2 a.m., so as to anchor at daylight.
This order was to reduce the danger of a torpedo attack by the
German destroyers, two of these sea sharks being in harbour, a part of
the German defences.
Every suitable day two biplanes from the aeroplane ship flew over
the harbour and defences of Tsingtau and surveyed the position of the
troops. Occasionally they
dropped bombs, though these do not seem to have done much damage at this
early stage of the warfare.
The Germans, never beaten in resources, also had two aeroplanes
and a captive balloon ever watching the Allied dispositions.
Arrangements were quickly made for dealing with these.
On board the Triumph two maxims were mounted vertically on the
quarterdeck, and a six pounder on the side of the after turret, so that
no German aeroplane would dare to attempt to drop bombs in her vicinity
with impunity.
In the midst of all this manoeuvring a new Admiral arrived, and
detailed Triumph to a position F, a bout twelve miles from Tsingtau.
The weather was very clear, and through glasses the houses,
wireless station, practically the whole German position, could be seen
quite distinctly-a panorama of a fast approaching conquest. Triumph left
the Japanese fleet on the 15th for Wei-hai-wei, on convoy
duty, proceeding on to Taku, where the South Wales Borderers were
expected in three transports. These,
and a hospital ship were convoyed by Triumph to Lo Shan Bay, which was
full of men-o-war and transports eighty in all.
The sandy beach at the head of the bay was alive with moving
figures, horses, and piles of stores, guns and ammunition wagons, in a
state of transit. Six pile
piers were being built for landing the heavy guns, and four pontoon
piers for troops and stores, in preparation for greater and greater
effort.
On the beach ten thousand little horses together; thirty thousand
troops, with stores for many months; materials for a railway forty miles
long, with fifty 6-inch howitzers, their gaping mouths ready to belch
fire and death. The whole
expedition seemed to be typically Japanese in its miniature proportions.
Everyone worked desperately hard, and would soon prove menacing
in their efficiency.
As forerunner of our comparatively small forces, five thousand
Japanese had taken up their position there about a month before, and had
cleared the Germans out of the adjacent country.
The British troops were landed in the ships boats on the 23rd
in the space of half an hour, and they marched up to the front on the 25th.
The yeast of warlike operations was now seething in the East.
So much for our land operations, on their heels news flashed
through that another division of Japan’s finest cruisers had been sent
to help in the chase of Scharnhorst and Gneisenau.
From the beach the Japanese aeroplane could be seen flying over
the harbour, with a rising and falling whirr and the German forts
pounding at her with shrapnel. The
Japanese Admiral and Captain Brand went aboard Triumph, and there
followed a long conference about the morrow’s work, when the British
man-o-war, with three Japanese battleships, were to bombard the forts.
The ship’s company cheered up wonderfully when the news got
about, as they were athirst for battle and real activity.
Usk, which was patrolling inshore, saw something of the artillery
duel, which went on during the whole night, the positions of both sides
being lit up with star shells. At
6.30 in the morning of September 28th, four ships got under
way. Curiously enough, they were all second hand, viz.
Tango, late Poltavia, Suwo, late Pobieda, Iwami, late Orel (all
captured from the Russians in the comparatively recent war); and
Triumph, which had been bought from the Chileans by Great Britain.
In single line ahead, these ships steered a course parallel to
the trend of the land for about three miles, firing all the time from
turrets and starboard batteries and bursting shells all over the German
positions. There was no
reply. On the second run
the four ships steered the same course, but had drawn one thousand yards
nearer the shore. This time
the forts replied viciously on the leading ship Suwo, and she turned
away from the land, the shells falling harmlessly all around her. When the Suwo was out of range the German gunners opened fire
on Triumph-the observers could see the vivid flashes, they could hear
the report of the guns before the shots arrived; the range was twelve
thousand yards. About a
dozen shells fell within fifty yards on either side.
The German range was perfect, but their deflection was not so
good. Triumph pursued her
way until the Japanese Admiral thought it good enough for a first
attempt, and the ships were ordered back to port.
Some grumbles that it was a pity, as they were all beginning to
enjoy the fun. No doubt the
heavy guns were doing a great deal of damage to property in general on
shore.
A spotting officer, who was in a barrel lashed to the foremast,
an advantageous if dangerous position, writes as his comment:
“Our shells burst all over the place, and appeared to set fire
to the village and quantities of brushwood.
The feeling of being under fire is not at all alarming; in fact,
it adds considerably to the interest.
The shells make a loud, whistling noise when they come, and fall
with a plop into the water. One’s
instinct makes one duck one’s head, which is rather comic when one
comes to think of it. The time (about twenty-five seconds) between seeing the forts
fire and the arrival of the projectile makes one think a bit.
When steering before the wind I was nearly asphyxiated from smoke
from the funnels, which was distinctly unpleasant, and I was glad to
come down for that reason.”
Usk, which had been detailed to cover a landing party, got no
fighting after all, as the Germans evacuated their positions in Lo Shan
harbour during the night, and the disembarkation of the Naval Brigade
was unopposed. She took up a position where she could see the result of the
battleships fire, and reported that it had done a great deal of damage
to buildings. About a
hundred shells burst on the side of Iltis Hill.
Two mine sweeping trawlers, who were working inshore in the
afternoon, had a field gun suddenly open fire on them with shrapnel,
killing two or three men. Two
Japanese ships steamed over and poured in a broadside or two, and the
gun ceased fire, whether out of action or no was not clear.
This brings the operations to September 29th, when a
ship arrived with a representative from the Emperor of Japan.
He came on board Triumph in state, and read an address to the
captain, after which he presented the ship with five-dozen bottles of
Saki and five thousand of the Imperial cigarettes.
There was a trip to Wei-hai-wei for coals and stores, and visits
to that portion of Lo Shan harbour where the railway was being laid
towards the front. The
nights were often left steaming slowly out to sea and back again.
Then early in October came another bombardment of Iltis Hill from
a distance of 15,000 yards rather to be effective.
On the 7th there was a fresh breeze, and a captive
balloon rose up from German lines.
The wind was so strong that soon the wire parted, and the balloon
shot into the air to a great height and was carried right over the ships
at least five thousand feet above them, just a grey hull, drifting out
of all control. All the
anti-aircraft guns blazed away at the rapidly drifting observer who,
alone in the car, was carried out to sea, still rising higher and higher
until he at last disappeared in the blue-one of the brave derelicts of
the war.
About this time the Japanese picked up an unexploded mine, which
they took to pieces and found it did not by any means fulfil the
conditions of the Hague Convention.
In the middle of October a conference took place on board the
flagship on the subject of another bombardment of Iltis Hill and the
German trenches disfiguring its surface.
An area of 1,200 yards from the coast had been swept clear of
mines, and on the landside all the Japanese siege guns, field guns, and
howitzers were in position. The
idea was to reduce the enemy to a state of confusion by a powerful
combined bombardment from every side, and then to carry Iltis Hill by
infantry assault.
In the evening a wireless signal was made by the Japanese to the
Governor of Tsingtau, suggesting an armistic at 10 a.m. to discuss the
means of allowing the non-belligerents to leave the town before the next
bombardment. The writers do
not know with what result. Triumph
went to sea on her usual patrol at night, and rejoined the other vessels
in time for the engagement at 9 a.m.
The flagship Suwo proceeded to a position 17,000 yards from Iltis
Point (having previously heeled the ship to port to elevate the guns),
and opened a fierce fire. Considering
the great range, her shooting was magnificent, most of her projectiles
falling close to the forts, which replied in turn.
All their shells fell short.
As soon as Suwo had found the range, Tango approached to within
12,500 yards of Iltis Hill and thundered at her objectives.
When she had been pouring out shells for about seven minutes
Iltis Point for replied and shots fell all around Tango, one or two of
them being close alongside. She
immediately went full speed ahead and moved out of range, Triumph taking
place, and pounding away for half an hour, deliberately bombarded the
hill without being interfered with.
Her shells burst like suddenly released clouds and dust devils on
the trenches all over Iltis, the spotting officer, confined to the
barrel at the foremast head, having a splendid view-a recompense for all
his discomforts.
Just as the authorised number of rounds had been sent upon their
journey of destruction Suwo ceased fire, and at once Iltis Point fort
blazed at Triumph with two 12-inch guns.
The first struck the lower mast above the main top; there was a
vivid flash, a loud report, and thousands of splinters went flying
murderously all over the ship. As
soon as the smoke had cleared away it was found that the mast, which was
three feet in diameter, was nearer blown away, the upper part being
supported by a few inches of steel plate on either side.
One man lay in a pool of blood in the top, an officer had his
foot shot away, and a sergeant or marines had an arm and shoulder badly
torn. It was wonderful that
all were all killed, for the weight of a 12-inch shell is nine hundred
and ninety pounds, and this had burst within a few feet of where they
were stationed. The
splinters flew with tremendous force, penetrating nearly an inch of
steel in places. Over two
hundred pieces of shell were picked up afterwards.
The noise before the explosion was just like an express train
thundering through a station with its whistle blowing.
At once the engines were put full speed ahead, and as the ship
began to move another shell churned the water into a great column a few
yards astern, exploding, but doing no harm, and before the fort could
fire again the ship was out of range.
A Japanese repair ship soon made things right, and Triumph was
again ready for sea.
In the evening a lying wireless message reported that the
Scharnhorst Gneisenau, and Nurnberg had been sighted seven hundred miles
away, steaming towards Tsingtau.
This common German subterfuge caused some alternation in the
operations, and on the 15th Suwo, Iwami, Tango, and Triumph
went out in patrol line, waiting for the reported German squadron, ready
and eager to fight it to the death.
The weather was very bad, with half a gale of wind and pouring
rain the whole time, making night watches in the tops and upper deck a
martyrdom of discomfort, and sleeping in the open even worse.
The patrol returned on the 17th and then learned that
the Germans had been at Apia only a week before, and that the warning of
their approach was merely a ruse.
The destroyers S 90, however, did escape from Tsingtau, sneaking
through the patrol lines, and sinking a Japanese cruiser-Takchiko-on her
way. This unfortunate ship
carried a number of mines stowed below, so the explosion was terrific. Out of a crew of 340 men only three were saved.
Such a mishap caused a great commotion.
All the small ships sped in search of S 90.
The aeroplane winged its way over Tsintau and reported that the
destroyers place inside was vacant, so everywhere crews were kept on the
qui vive, and nets were stretched out each night.
On the 20th the escaped destroyer was found run on
shore fifty miles south of Tsingtau, the victim of her own temerity.
It seemed that she had been damaged by the explosion of the mines
on board Takchiko, caused by her torpedo, and so was hoist with her own
petard. A chart showing all
the minefields was discovered on board-a great fine!
The crew was seized by the Chinese and marched off to Nanking for
internment. The ship
herself was rapidly breaking.
Meanwhile the gunnery lieutenant and his assistant, who had gone
a mission ashore, returned to Triumph.
They had been up to the front to inspect the county shortly to be
bombarded. They reported
that they saw the German defences clear in front of them, even the men
putting up the barbed wire entanglements.
The forts were firing all the time they were on the spot, and
many of the shells passed pretty close in places.
On their return to Lo Shan they found the Japanese aeroplane
preparing to start on a trial trip to attack Kaiserin Elisabeth, the
Austrian cruiser, which was up to mischief, firing on the troops.
The aeroplane dropped three bombs, but the ship was not hit or
disturbed in her malevolence.
On October 28th arrangements were made for a
simultaneous attack from both sea and land, and the troops were to
advance to within a thousand yards of the enemy’s lines.
As a preliminary to the next attack the representative of the
Crown Prince of Japan, with the high courtesy of his nation, paid an
official visit to Triumph to convey His Highness’s appreciation of the
bravery and fortitude of the officers and men.
He took with them a present of five-dozen bottles of saki.
Next day the
British ship, with Suwo, Tango, and Iwami, ready again for battle,
bombarded Iltis Hill and the positions on that side, keeping up a
steady, devastating fire all day. Triumph
was congratulated on her shooting.
At least ten of her big shells burst right inside the fort, but
in the evening, to the gunners disappointment, Iltis was seen to fire
just the same as before. At
once the ship was given a list of five degrees to starboard to lengthen
the range considerably, and the shells from the Iltis Point fort all
fell eight hundred yards short, leaving Triumph unscathed and
undismayed.
On the 30th the bombardment was repeated with about
the same result, but the climax was close at hand than the expected, for
the army had advanced to within a thousand yards of the enemy’s front
defences.
When Triumph arrived off Tsingtau the next morning the shore
batteries, both 6- and 12-inch, were already actively at work.
Most of the town blazed with fire; a murky black cloud of smoke
hung over it, blurring the blue sky.
Shells were bursting all day, throwing up dust and dirt;
aeroplanes buzzed and careered about over the batteries, and a balloon
was spotting the shots. Iltis
Point fort was blazing away, and altogether the whole effect was
spectacular beyond description.
Each ship refused in and bombarded in turn, taking care never too
get within 17,000 yards-the extreme range of the forts guns.
The Germans must have had a taste of their own theories of the
terrors of war.
Kaiserin Elisabeth was by this time suspected to be coaling in
order to make a bolt for the open sea.
Triumph was watching all night, but neither she nor the three
patrolling destroyers saw anything of the enemy, and next day the
bombardment was continued mercilessly by sea and land.
The troops were now, in some places, within three hundred
yards-almost shouting distance-of the outer line of German trenches.
Wind from the southwest, starting with rain, and rose to the
proportions of a gale, so that next day the ships were forced into Lo
Shan Bay for shelter. The
temperature sank below forty degrees, and the troops in the trenches
must have suffered badly. Information
was received that the Germans had blown up Kaiserin Elisabeth, the
floating deck, and the great crane in the dockyard.
This was a counsel of despair.
Bad weather raged for four days, and neither the troops nor the
ships were able to resume operations.
As a suggestive interlude, on Guy Fawkes Day an effigy of the
Kaiser was burnt great ceremony in the wardroom of Triumph, during the
temporary cessation of hostilities.
In spite of the weather the end was at hand.
On the day following the English celebration of an historic plot
to destroy its Government, the ships, on putting to sea, received an
urgent signal to say that the enemy had surrendered, and that white
flags were fluttering in all directions.
The troops had rushed the outer line of trenches in the night,
and afterwards rendered Bismarck, Moltke and Iltis forts untenable.
Hundreds of Germans surrendered without firing a shot.
The town might possibly have held out longer, though its final
end was inevitable from the beginning.
The casualties on both sides were comparatively small,
considering the strength of the defences.
Thee can be no doubt that the Germans concentrated their fire
especially on the British troops, perhaps because of a deeply embedded
hatred on account of our effective alliance with Japan.
Some members of the Japanese Parliament and a representative of
the Emperor came and offered congratulations with their usual courtesy.
To Japan it was a moment of great personal triumph.
The following is a translation of a message sent by the Governor
of Tsingtau to the Kaiser, and probably shows the German point of view:
“To your Majesty the Kaiser-Fortress had capitulated after
exhaustion of means of defence though assault and by means of defences
having been breached.
“Forts ad towns beforehand thoroughly harassed by continuous
bombardment lasting nine days. By
land from heaviest weapons assisted by heavy bombardment from sea
strength of our artillery fire at last completely broken.
Losses not yet clearly ascertained, however, in spite of the
heaviest and most obstinate continued fire are for a wonder much smaller
than was to be expected.
