COALING AT SEA
OIL-FIRED BOILERS.
Photographed while the ship was running at full speed
OIL-MOTOR ROOM OF A GERMAN SUBMARINE
OIL BUNKERING IN PORT
http://www.thetimes.co.uk/article/a-visit-to-the-grand-fleet-lmbmnsrnr
A visit to the Grand Fleet
Count Alexis Tolstoy contributes a further article to “ The Times” giving some of his impressions of the recent visit paid by the Russian authors and journalists to the Grand Fleet
March 9, 1916
By Count Alexis Tolstoy.
It all passed before our eyes like a dream. In the evening we took our places in a special sleeping-car. Wo engaged in conversation about trifles. That was not surprising after a week of uninterrupted banquets, receptions, reviews, calls, and interviews. We smoked till the air became unbearable, and then retired to our berths, agreeably lulled by the rattle of the rain on the carriage roofs.
When morning broke our train was steaming through the snowclad hills of Scotland. Here And there streams of water were coursing down the white valleys. Slowly a long viaduct passed, and was hidden behind the hill. High up an old tower peeped above the ruined walls of a castle adorning the crags. A stag lazily shifted from the immediate vicinity. of the train, and, turning his antlers, gazed after us.
At a deserted wayside station two Scotsmen in plaid stood regardless of frost and bare knees. They are a well-grown, incredibly hardy people. Like the ancient Romans they consider it a disgrace to wear trousers. Suddenly ahead of us appeared the sea. From the snowy hills we descended into a green, damp valley, and stopped in an old-world, clean-swept town, spaciously paved, composed of two-storey dwellings built, as the custom goes in Scotland, of brownish-grey stone. On all sides we saw bright gardens, comfortable cottages, and low walls of lichen-covered stone. Over the still waters of the little harbour flocks of screaming seagulls whirled. Trucks carried all sorts of war material, huge floats, and wire-netting for the capture of submarines.
A red-faced warrior with a turned-up nose and attired in the fashion of the days of Ossian walked backwards and forwards with fixed bayonet guarding the precious trucks, and the wind blew about the ribbons of his bonnet and the tartans of his kilt. From a crane alongside depended a projectile which looked as big as the Scottish sentry. Slowly it began to descend into the hold of a vessel, whero rows of similar projectiles were being laid. Each one of these missiles would have blown to pieces a five-storeyed house.
THE GUARDIAN WARSHIPS.
Continuing its course our train frequently sallied on to the sea-shore. A smart breeze was blowing, and the foaming waves broke merrily on the weed-grown rocks beneath us. On many a green meadow the sheep were grazing. An old man was bending to the plough, while overhead a swarm of white gulls hovered over the black furrows. Clouds darkened the hill-tops and suddenly down came a strong, slanting shower, obscuring the sea-line and almost concealing the huge squat forms of the guardian warships.
We spent the whole time sitting in red-velveted armchairs, at the windows of the dining car which was to accompany us to the end of our journey and back. Everything had been arranged for our comfort. We had only to converse and look out of the window. The Senior Naval Officer met us at N-, and took us home to his cottage, which stands in a garden full of snowdrops. On the following day our hostess thoughtfully provided each of us with a bunch of these flowers. After tea we wandered about the seashore gazing at the waters which, like everything in the North, the houses, the rocks, and the hills, reflected a brownish yellow tinge. Huge clouds loomed in the distance over rockbound islands. The inrushing tide moaned on the rocks below.
In the morning our captain, armed with huge leather gauntlets, muffled up in a heavy scarf, offered me a seat beside him in his motor-car. We went ahead of the others along a frost-bound causeway skirting the coast, towards a cove where we could see the dark hull of a destroyer, whose captain was pacing the shore awaiting our arrival. I used to think that such sailors lived only in the pages of a novel. The peak of his cap slightly raised, he stood facing the keen wind in a light jacket, an extraordinarily handsome figure with eyes the colour of sea water, his sunburnt shaven face breathing, good nature and energy. In two years he had been absent on leave for only one day. Answering the question “How did he bear the hardships of sea service complicated by constant hunts after German submarines?” he smilingly remarked that it was all easy enough if you took things cheerfully.
The others having arrived, we were invited to go on board the destroyer. Her men donned oilskins and sou’westers. The engines started, we cast off our moorings, and the destroyer, leaving her berth, turned her head towards the wind and waves. Nabokoff, Choukovsky, and I hauled ourselves up on the bridge. Throughout the ensuing run we were drenched by the flying spindrift. Gazing aft I saw the narrow snaky body of the destroyer settling lower in the waves as we speeded up. The crew on deck were being freely dowsed. We were flying through the water faster than some express trains travel on land.
TRIALS OF THE DEEP.
Suddenly she buried her nose and an icy wave swept towards the bridge. The captain ducked behind the black-canvas screen and remained dry; the man at the, wheel did not move. We were trying to spit the salt water out of our mouths. Choukovsky suffered most. His fur headgear resembled the proverbial drowned cat. He tried to turn the matter off with a smile, but went below, and as he was descending the gangway a second wave pinned him to the smoke-stack. Nabokoff turned green, and began to show the whites of his eyes, and meanwhile down below in the wardroom Nemirovitch Danchenko was upbraiding the sea in unmeasured terms and criticizing all destroyers. There was a roll as well as a pitch in her movements.
On our left we opened up some wild-looking rocks girt by foam. The clouds descended almost to the sea and wet snow began to fall. Ahead we sighted some minelayers. The captain gave an order, and above us the searchlight began to speak while from the leading ship a stream of dots and dashes twinkled in response. We passed between the minelayers. Further we sighted some small steamers which proved to be the guardians protecting the roadstead. Through an opening in this defence we entered the quiet waters of a bay sheltering a multitude of auxiliary ships supplying the squadron. Here were huge transports, hospital ships, painted white - a whole marine city. Further stood lines of destroyers with their escorting and Ieading ships.
Porting our helm we turned a headland, whence through the driving snow I discerned a windswept expanse of water over which loomed a great cloud of smoke. Gradually we approached within sight of the huge, grey profiles of super- Dreadnoughts. There were many more than I could count and dense masses of smoke were issuing from each of them.
Signalling with our searchlight we approached one of them, lying motionless like an iron island on the foaming sea. Her guns of inordinate length stretched their noses far out of her turrets. Three flags denoting some signal were broken out at her masthead, and we, increasing our speed, hurried after two light cruisers. Their masts were bending, their sides were swept by the seas. Suddenly blinding flashes burst from their sides followed by thunderous reports, and above the noise of the wind and the waves I could hear the hurtle of shells through the air.
Far away at the foot of the targets arose huge columns of foam. Again the shots rang out, and the water spouted. Only once did the projectiles fly too high. The cruisers stopped firing. Cutting across our bows swept four destroyers. We turned smartly and overhauled them keeping them abreast of us and all five vessels making full speed. The waves were now dashing over the bridge, and the falling snow blinded my eyes. But our very speed steadied the vessel. The four destroyers curtained in black smoke were going to attack and each one at top speed turned and shot her torpedo. Four silvery paths showed their course as they sped towards the mark. Slowly returning, our destroyer came alongside the Iron Duke, proudly flying the flag of the Commander-in Chief. On her immense snow-white quarter deck stood admirals and captains in the handsome naval uniform of dark-blue and gold.
The junior officers looked the embodiment of alertness. We were met by a small man with a clean-shaven, attentive face and closely pursed lips. Cordially and quietly he took stock of us out of his sharp, black eyes as we, headed by Nemirovich Danchenko, walked along the quarter deck. And it seemed to Us incredible that this man of slight stature who had just said a few pleasant words, who seemed so simple and modest, could be the most mighty man in the world, the Commander-in-Chief of the Grand Fleet.
He himself showed us over the ship, asking each of us about Russia, and then took us into a roomy, well-fitted saloon where a bright fire blazed in the hearth and fresh flowers graced the tables, and asked each of us to sign his book. Himself he willingly put his signature into a notebook purchased by Choukovsky a modest signature, “John Jellicoe.”
http://www.thetimes.co.uk/article/fleet-efficiency-000nmhwsk
It all passed before our eyes like a dream. In the evening we took our places in a special sleeping-car. Wo engaged in conversation about trifles. That was not surprising after a week of uninterrupted banquets, receptions, reviews, calls, and interviews. We smoked till the air became unbearable, and then retired to our berths, agreeably lulled by the rattle of the rain on the carriage roofs.
When morning broke our train was steaming through the snowclad hills of Scotland. Here And there streams of water were coursing down the white valleys. Slowly a long viaduct passed, and was hidden behind the hill. High up an old tower peeped above the ruined walls of a castle adorning the crags. A stag lazily shifted from the immediate vicinity. of the train, and, turning his antlers, gazed after us.
At a deserted wayside station two Scotsmen in plaid stood regardless of frost and bare knees. They are a well-grown, incredibly hardy people. Like the ancient Romans they consider it a disgrace to wear trousers. Suddenly ahead of us appeared the sea. From the snowy hills we descended into a green, damp valley, and stopped in an old-world, clean-swept town, spaciously paved, composed of two-storey dwellings built, as the custom goes in Scotland, of brownish-grey stone. On all sides we saw bright gardens, comfortable cottages, and low walls of lichen-covered stone. Over the still waters of the little harbour flocks of screaming seagulls whirled. Trucks carried all sorts of war material, huge floats, and wire-netting for the capture of submarines.
A red-faced warrior with a turned-up nose and attired in the fashion of the days of Ossian walked backwards and forwards with fixed bayonet guarding the precious trucks, and the wind blew about the ribbons of his bonnet and the tartans of his kilt. From a crane alongside depended a projectile which looked as big as the Scottish sentry. Slowly it began to descend into the hold of a vessel, whero rows of similar projectiles were being laid. Each one of these missiles would have blown to pieces a five-storeyed house.
Continuing its course our train frequently sallied on to the sea-shore. A smart breeze was blowing, and the foaming waves broke merrily on the weed-grown rocks beneath us. On many a green meadow the sheep were grazing. An old man was bending to the plough, while overhead a swarm of white gulls hovered over the black furrows. Clouds darkened the hill-tops and suddenly down came a strong, slanting shower, obscuring the sea-line and almost concealing the huge squat forms of the guardian warships.
We spent the whole time sitting in red-velveted armchairs, at the windows of the dining car which was to accompany us to the end of our journey and back. Everything had been arranged for our comfort. We had only to converse and look out of the window. The Senior Naval Officer met us at N-, and took us home to his cottage, which stands in a garden full of snowdrops. On the following day our hostess thoughtfully provided each of us with a bunch of these flowers. After tea we wandered about the seashore gazing at the waters which, like everything in the North, the houses, the rocks, and the hills, reflected a brownish yellow tinge. Huge clouds loomed in the distance over rockbound islands. The inrushing tide moaned on the rocks below.
In the morning our captain, armed with huge leather gauntlets, muffled up in a heavy scarf, offered me a seat beside him in his motor-car. We went ahead of the others along a frost-bound causeway skirting the coast, towards a cove where we could see the dark hull of a destroyer, whose captain was pacing the shore awaiting our arrival. I used to think that such sailors lived only in the pages of a novel. The peak of his cap slightly raised, he stood facing the keen wind in a light jacket, an extraordinarily handsome figure with eyes the colour of sea water, his sunburnt shaven face breathing, good nature and energy. In two years he had been absent on leave for only one day. Answering the question “How did he bear the hardships of sea service complicated by constant hunts after German submarines?” he smilingly remarked that it was all easy enough if you took things cheerfully.
The others having arrived, we were invited to go on board the destroyer. Her men donned oilskins and sou’westers. The engines started, we cast off our moorings, and the destroyer, leaving her berth, turned her head towards the wind and waves. Nabokoff, Choukovsky, and I hauled ourselves up on the bridge. Throughout the ensuing run we were drenched by the flying spindrift. Gazing aft I saw the narrow snaky body of the destroyer settling lower in the waves as we speeded up. The crew on deck were being freely dowsed. We were flying through the water faster than some express trains travel on land.
TRIALS OF THE DEEP.
Suddenly she buried her nose and an icy wave swept towards the bridge. The captain ducked behind the black-canvas screen and remained dry; the man at the, wheel did not move. We were trying to spit the salt water out of our mouths. Choukovsky suffered most. His fur headgear resembled the proverbial drowned cat. He tried to turn the matter off with a smile, but went below, and as he was descending the gangway a second wave pinned him to the smoke-stack. Nabokoff turned green, and began to show the whites of his eyes, and meanwhile down below in the wardroom Nemirovitch Danchenko was upbraiding the sea in unmeasured terms and criticizing all destroyers. There was a roll as well as a pitch in her movements.
On our left we opened up some wild-looking rocks girt by foam. The clouds descended almost to the sea and wet snow began to fall. Ahead we sighted some minelayers. The captain gave an order, and above us the searchlight began to speak while from the leading ship a stream of dots and dashes twinkled in response. We passed between the minelayers. Further we sighted some small steamers which proved to be the guardians protecting the roadstead. Through an opening in this defence we entered the quiet waters of a bay sheltering a multitude of auxiliary ships supplying the squadron. Here were huge transports, hospital ships, painted white - a whole marine city. Further stood lines of destroyers with their escorting and Ieading ships.
Porting our helm we turned a headland, whence through the driving snow I discerned a windswept expanse of water over which loomed a great cloud of smoke. Gradually we approached within sight of the huge, grey profiles of super- Dreadnoughts. There were many more than I could count and dense masses of smoke were issuing from each of them.
Signalling with our searchlight we approached one of them, lying motionless like an iron island on the foaming sea. Her guns of inordinate length stretched their noses far out of her turrets. Three flags denoting some signal were broken out at her masthead, and we, increasing our speed, hurried after two light cruisers. Their masts were bending, their sides were swept by the seas. Suddenly blinding flashes burst from their sides followed by thunderous reports, and above the noise of the wind and the waves I could hear the hurtle of shells through the air.
Far away at the foot of the targets arose huge columns of foam. Again the shots rang out, and the water spouted. Only once did the projectiles fly too high. The cruisers stopped firing. Cutting across our bows swept four destroyers. We turned smartly and overhauled them keeping them abreast of us and all five vessels making full speed. The waves were now dashing over the bridge, and the falling snow blinded my eyes. But our very speed steadied the vessel. The four destroyers curtained in black smoke were going to attack and each one at top speed turned and shot her torpedo. Four silvery paths showed their course as they sped towards the mark. Slowly returning, our destroyer came alongside the Iron Duke, proudly flying the flag of the Commander-in Chief. On her immense snow-white quarter deck stood admirals and captains in the handsome naval uniform of dark-blue and gold.
The junior officers looked the embodiment of alertness. We were met by a small man with a clean-shaven, attentive face and closely pursed lips. Cordially and quietly he took stock of us out of his sharp, black eyes as we, headed by Nemirovich Danchenko, walked along the quarter deck. And it seemed to Us incredible that this man of slight stature who had just said a few pleasant words, who seemed so simple and modest, could be the most mighty man in the world, the Commander-in-Chief of the Grand Fleet.
He himself showed us over the ship, asking each of us about Russia, and then took us into a roomy, well-fitted saloon where a bright fire blazed in the hearth and fresh flowers graced the tables, and asked each of us to sign his book. Himself he willingly put his signature into a notebook purchased by Choukovsky a modest signature, “John Jellicoe.”
http://www.thetimes.co.uk/article/fleet-efficiency-000nmhwsk
Fleet efficiency
Nothing speaks so highly of the engineering department of the Fleet as the fact that the ships were taken a voyage of 400 miles, fought the action, and returned without, so far as is known, a single breakdown
June 6, 1916
By Our Naval Correspondent.
The country has now had the Admiralty official and semi-official announcements concerning the Battle of Horn Reef supplemented by many accounts from participators and spectators. Our people can draw but one inference from these narratives and personal experiences, and this should give them the liveliest satisfaction and joy. The British seamen are fully persuaded that they have defeated the German Fleet. They are ready and anxious to meet it again. All the reports of the homecoming of the Grand Fleet after the action agree that the ships’ companies are proud of their achievements, maintain the utmost confidence in their leaders, and are convinced that, if the enemy should give them another chance, British valour and British skill will make the victory a decisive one.
Nothing like this comes from the other side. While our brief and depressing official communiques were not calculated to arouse enthusiasm, those of the German authorities were obviously intended, by their announcements of exaggerated victory, to impose on the credulity of the German public. We may, however, doubt if the German seamen are so proud of themselves, or so completely assured of the competence of their commanders, since they had to run for home to avoid disaster. The crews of the German vessels are composed of men of a high level of general intelligence, and it is inconceivable that they should feel very up-hearted by the inglorious termination of their cruise. Well-disciplined as they are, they may respond with cheers to the visit of the German Emperor, but even the presence of the All-Highest cannot remove the feeling of discomfiture inseparable from their first experience of contact with the British Fleet.
Such few remarks as have been attributed to the men who have been saved, while they exhibit thankfulness for preservation, show none of the jubilation which would be expected from men who believed themselves to be victors in the fight. The German people, too, must presently revise the first impressions drawn from the boastful and misleading statements which caused their premature rejoicings.
THE SUPERB CREWS.
Every fresh detail of the action, as it becomes known, must increase the faith of the British nation in the protection and security afforded by its Navy. Everybody must feel that the fighting was magnificent, whether or not they agree that the tactics were faultless or the strategical policy incomparably skilful. The tenacity of Beatty’s bull-dog grip must excite admiration, even though the dogged resolution with which the battle-cruiser squadron endeavoured to hold the enemy only partially achieved its purpose. The prowess of the seamen-gunners was only equalled by the endurance of the men in the engine-rooms and stokeholds of the ships, and the imperturbability of the officers directing, under most distracting conditions, the deliberate fire of their batteries.
This also at a time when the force opposed to them was constantly increasing in numbers and strength, and there were other circumstances which manifestly operated to their disadvantage. From many quarters there is evidence of the accuracy of the marksmanship of our gunners, both in the vessels first engaged and those which came to their assistance, as is shown by the terrible hammering given to the German ships. Few things, also, could be finer than the spectacle described by an eye-witness, presented by the conduct of the men directing and fighting the guns of the battleship Marlborough after she had been struck by a torpedo. Coolly and calmly they continued to engage the enemy while another part of her company was occupied in an endeavour to make good some of the damage caused by the mishap. The temporary repairs fortunately proved effective. The efficiency of the Fleet as a machine was as conspicuous as the dauntless courage of the seamen. We are told that the vessels were handled as if on manoeuvres. The torpedoes from the submarines were evaded by the dexterous use of the helm.
Nothing, moreover, speaks so highly of the engineering department of the Fleet as the fact that the ships were taken a voyage of 400 miles, fought the action, and returned without, so far as is known, a single breakdown. This wonderful freedom from serious defect in their mechanism is a tribute to the care and skill of the engineers, the unremitting labour of the firemen, and the high quality of the material put into the vessels by the British manufacturers. It bears out the testimony of Mr Alexander Richardson in the current issue of the Naval Annual that, “alike for its efficiency and reliability, the propelling machinery of our warships has been well able to endure almost continuous high speed steaming in all weathers, and especially amid the wild gales of the northern seas, necessary during the progress of the war.”
Trustworthy and effective motive power in the ships is as essential to victory as perfect marksmanship in the gunnery department.
THE TORPEDO FLOTILLAS.
Particularly noteworthy was the work accomplished by the torpedo flotillas, upon whom devolved, in addition to the protection of the larger vessels from their submarine assailants, a series of successive attacks upon the enemy’s ships by day and night. That they had to engage more numerous forces of their own character many observations by those present show to be the case. Apart from the fact that the actions occurred in the vicinity of the German ports, which would permit the enemy to bring into play even his oldest and smallest torpedo boats, it appears to be conclusively demonstrated that there was a preponderance of hostile destroyers of later types. From the names of the British torpedo craft mentioned there were with our Fleet at least two flotillas, one composed of the newer “N” class, including the Nomad and Nestor, and the other of the “K” class. The latter, to judge by its larger losses, sustained the brunt of the encounters with the German surface vessels. In this flotilla, which used to be called the Fourth, the Tipperary, flying the pennant of Captain C J Wintour. had succeeded the Swift as leader, and in it were the Acasta, Ardent, Fortune, Porpoise, Shark, and Sparrowhawk.
The indomitable spirit and determination of the men in the destroyers, not less than the practised and adroit proficiency of their young commanders, is indicated by the success of their endeavours, while we know from the semi-official account that, although destroyer onslaughts by the enemy boats were continually attempted, not a single torpedo launched from them got home. It is advisable to reserve comment upon the strategy which led to and the tactics employed in the battle of Horn Reef until the dispatches of the Commander-in-Chief and the squadron leaders are made public. There are, however, some matters clearly beyond the realm of speculation.
Whatever may have been the enterprise or mission which Vice-Admiral von Scheer set out to accomplish on the morning of May 31, it is indisputable that he was forced to return to the shelter of his fortified bases without its fulfilment. As Admiral Mahan has said, “There is such a thing as the sterile glory of fighting battles and still more of running risks the object of which is not worth the possible loss.”
The battle of Horn Reef leaves the general naval situation exactly as it was before, but with this important qualification - that the officers and men of the High Sea Fleet have now all experienced what it is to meet British seamen, and have had a taste of what they must expect if they again venture to challenge an action. More than this, by the move they made last Wednesday, and the treatment they received, they have to a very large extent prejudiced their ability to accomplish any great naval undertaking in the Baltic. At the same time, they have enhanced the excellent spirit which prevails in every section of the British Fleet and its auxiliary services. Not an officer or man but has renewed faith in the issue, and is ready, with sincere resolution and burning ardour, to meet any duty the country may require of him.
http://www.thetimes.co.uk/article/more-preventive-measures-needed-dxpclt23z
The country has now had the Admiralty official and semi-official announcements concerning the Battle of Horn Reef supplemented by many accounts from participators and spectators. Our people can draw but one inference from these narratives and personal experiences, and this should give them the liveliest satisfaction and joy. The British seamen are fully persuaded that they have defeated the German Fleet. They are ready and anxious to meet it again. All the reports of the homecoming of the Grand Fleet after the action agree that the ships’ companies are proud of their achievements, maintain the utmost confidence in their leaders, and are convinced that, if the enemy should give them another chance, British valour and British skill will make the victory a decisive one.
Nothing like this comes from the other side. While our brief and depressing official communiques were not calculated to arouse enthusiasm, those of the German authorities were obviously intended, by their announcements of exaggerated victory, to impose on the credulity of the German public. We may, however, doubt if the German seamen are so proud of themselves, or so completely assured of the competence of their commanders, since they had to run for home to avoid disaster. The crews of the German vessels are composed of men of a high level of general intelligence, and it is inconceivable that they should feel very up-hearted by the inglorious termination of their cruise. Well-disciplined as they are, they may respond with cheers to the visit of the German Emperor, but even the presence of the All-Highest cannot remove the feeling of discomfiture inseparable from their first experience of contact with the British Fleet.
Such few remarks as have been attributed to the men who have been saved, while they exhibit thankfulness for preservation, show none of the jubilation which would be expected from men who believed themselves to be victors in the fight. The German people, too, must presently revise the first impressions drawn from the boastful and misleading statements which caused their premature rejoicings.
THE SUPERB CREWS.
Every fresh detail of the action, as it becomes known, must increase the faith of the British nation in the protection and security afforded by its Navy. Everybody must feel that the fighting was magnificent, whether or not they agree that the tactics were faultless or the strategical policy incomparably skilful. The tenacity of Beatty’s bull-dog grip must excite admiration, even though the dogged resolution with which the battle-cruiser squadron endeavoured to hold the enemy only partially achieved its purpose. The prowess of the seamen-gunners was only equalled by the endurance of the men in the engine-rooms and stokeholds of the ships, and the imperturbability of the officers directing, under most distracting conditions, the deliberate fire of their batteries.
This also at a time when the force opposed to them was constantly increasing in numbers and strength, and there were other circumstances which manifestly operated to their disadvantage. From many quarters there is evidence of the accuracy of the marksmanship of our gunners, both in the vessels first engaged and those which came to their assistance, as is shown by the terrible hammering given to the German ships. Few things, also, could be finer than the spectacle described by an eye-witness, presented by the conduct of the men directing and fighting the guns of the battleship Marlborough after she had been struck by a torpedo. Coolly and calmly they continued to engage the enemy while another part of her company was occupied in an endeavour to make good some of the damage caused by the mishap. The temporary repairs fortunately proved effective. The efficiency of the Fleet as a machine was as conspicuous as the dauntless courage of the seamen. We are told that the vessels were handled as if on manoeuvres. The torpedoes from the submarines were evaded by the dexterous use of the helm.
Nothing, moreover, speaks so highly of the engineering department of the Fleet as the fact that the ships were taken a voyage of 400 miles, fought the action, and returned without, so far as is known, a single breakdown. This wonderful freedom from serious defect in their mechanism is a tribute to the care and skill of the engineers, the unremitting labour of the firemen, and the high quality of the material put into the vessels by the British manufacturers. It bears out the testimony of Mr Alexander Richardson in the current issue of the Naval Annual that, “alike for its efficiency and reliability, the propelling machinery of our warships has been well able to endure almost continuous high speed steaming in all weathers, and especially amid the wild gales of the northern seas, necessary during the progress of the war.”
Trustworthy and effective motive power in the ships is as essential to victory as perfect marksmanship in the gunnery department.
THE TORPEDO FLOTILLAS.
Particularly noteworthy was the work accomplished by the torpedo flotillas, upon whom devolved, in addition to the protection of the larger vessels from their submarine assailants, a series of successive attacks upon the enemy’s ships by day and night. That they had to engage more numerous forces of their own character many observations by those present show to be the case. Apart from the fact that the actions occurred in the vicinity of the German ports, which would permit the enemy to bring into play even his oldest and smallest torpedo boats, it appears to be conclusively demonstrated that there was a preponderance of hostile destroyers of later types. From the names of the British torpedo craft mentioned there were with our Fleet at least two flotillas, one composed of the newer “N” class, including the Nomad and Nestor, and the other of the “K” class. The latter, to judge by its larger losses, sustained the brunt of the encounters with the German surface vessels. In this flotilla, which used to be called the Fourth, the Tipperary, flying the pennant of Captain C J Wintour. had succeeded the Swift as leader, and in it were the Acasta, Ardent, Fortune, Porpoise, Shark, and Sparrowhawk.
The indomitable spirit and determination of the men in the destroyers, not less than the practised and adroit proficiency of their young commanders, is indicated by the success of their endeavours, while we know from the semi-official account that, although destroyer onslaughts by the enemy boats were continually attempted, not a single torpedo launched from them got home. It is advisable to reserve comment upon the strategy which led to and the tactics employed in the battle of Horn Reef until the dispatches of the Commander-in-Chief and the squadron leaders are made public. There are, however, some matters clearly beyond the realm of speculation.
Whatever may have been the enterprise or mission which Vice-Admiral von Scheer set out to accomplish on the morning of May 31, it is indisputable that he was forced to return to the shelter of his fortified bases without its fulfilment. As Admiral Mahan has said, “There is such a thing as the sterile glory of fighting battles and still more of running risks the object of which is not worth the possible loss.”
The battle of Horn Reef leaves the general naval situation exactly as it was before, but with this important qualification - that the officers and men of the High Sea Fleet have now all experienced what it is to meet British seamen, and have had a taste of what they must expect if they again venture to challenge an action. More than this, by the move they made last Wednesday, and the treatment they received, they have to a very large extent prejudiced their ability to accomplish any great naval undertaking in the Baltic. At the same time, they have enhanced the excellent spirit which prevails in every section of the British Fleet and its auxiliary services. Not an officer or man but has renewed faith in the issue, and is ready, with sincere resolution and burning ardour, to meet any duty the country may require of him.
http://www.thetimes.co.uk/article/more-preventive-measures-needed-dxpclt23z
More preventive measures needed
For some time past, with torpedoes and mines, the U boats have done their level best to harass the cross-Channel traffic
October 28, 1916
(By Our Naval Correspondent.) The boldness and daring of the stroke which the German destroyers attempted on Thursday night must be acknowledged, and it is to be wished that they had been made to pay more heavily for their audacity. It may be hoped that. in addition to the two destroyers which they have lost, there were others which did not escape scathless when driven off.
This is the first time that hostile destroyers have been reported to interfere with the cross-Channel traffic, and it will come as a surprise to many that they should have been able to attempt it. The exploit was a more venturesome example of the sallies for which the destroyers from Zeebrugge have become notorious It may be supposed that by creeping along inshore in the dark they managed to elude the vigilance of our patrol. The British loss, which is much to be regretted, may be explained if the convoy of the attacked transport was numerically inferior to the German raiding flotilla.
The fact that such a raid could be made seems to point to the necessity for an extended use of mines so as to close if possible egress from Zeebrugge and Ostend. The purpose of the raid may be easily conjectured. About two months ago Major Moraht, the German military critic, made the interesting discovery that the operations of the British Army on the Western front were dependent upon the continued stream of troops and munitions brought to France across the Channel. “If only we could,” he said, “With all the forces at our command, succeed in menacing the British lines of communication, we could then reckon on relieving our troops on the Somme.”
For some time past, with torpedoes and mines, the U boats have done their level best to harass the cross-Channel traffic, but, as Sir Reginald Bacon was able to record in his dispatch of July 27, not a single life has been lost in the whole of the vast transport operations.
It may be recalled that the recent visit of the Kaiser to Zeebrugge was expected to be the precursor of some further development of naval energy, and it seems quite likely that the night attack of Thursday is an indication of the form that development will take. Since this port was converted into a base the activity of the destroyers in the area guarded by the faver patrol has been frequently mentioned in communique and dispatches. Their enterprise has been considerable, and they even claim to have raided the mouth of the Thames. It is unquestionable that their successes have not been conspicuous owing to the alertness and efficiency of the light cruisers and torpedo flotilla on that station.
This is the first time that hostile destroyers have been reported to interfere with the cross-Channel traffic, and it will come as a surprise to many that they should have been able to attempt it. The exploit was a more venturesome example of the sallies for which the destroyers from Zeebrugge have become notorious It may be supposed that by creeping along inshore in the dark they managed to elude the vigilance of our patrol. The British loss, which is much to be regretted, may be explained if the convoy of the attacked transport was numerically inferior to the German raiding flotilla.
The fact that such a raid could be made seems to point to the necessity for an extended use of mines so as to close if possible egress from Zeebrugge and Ostend. The purpose of the raid may be easily conjectured. About two months ago Major Moraht, the German military critic, made the interesting discovery that the operations of the British Army on the Western front were dependent upon the continued stream of troops and munitions brought to France across the Channel. “If only we could,” he said, “With all the forces at our command, succeed in menacing the British lines of communication, we could then reckon on relieving our troops on the Somme.”
For some time past, with torpedoes and mines, the U boats have done their level best to harass the cross-Channel traffic, but, as Sir Reginald Bacon was able to record in his dispatch of July 27, not a single life has been lost in the whole of the vast transport operations.
It may be recalled that the recent visit of the Kaiser to Zeebrugge was expected to be the precursor of some further development of naval energy, and it seems quite likely that the night attack of Thursday is an indication of the form that development will take. Since this port was converted into a base the activity of the destroyers in the area guarded by the faver patrol has been frequently mentioned in communique and dispatches. Their enterprise has been considerable, and they even claim to have raided the mouth of the Thames. It is unquestionable that their successes have not been conspicuous owing to the alertness and efficiency of the light cruisers and torpedo flotilla on that station.
No comments:
Post a Comment