Letter from Sir M. Hankey, K.C.B. (Secretary to the War Cabinet).
Offices of the War Cabinet,
2, Whitehall Gardens, S.W.
May 28th, 1917.
My Dear Lord Fisher,
I am sending your letter along to my wife and asking her to write to you and send both a copy of your letter to me in 1910 about Mr. Asquith’s leaving office in November, 1916,[13] and also to write to you about your prophecy of war with Germany beginning in 1914, and Sir John Jellicoe being in command of the Grand Fleet when war broke out.
I have the clearest recollection of the incident. My wife and I had been down to you for a week-end to Kilverstone. You had persuaded us not to go up by the early train on the Monday, and you took us to the rose-garden, where there was a sundial with a charming and interesting inscription. You linked one arm through my wife’s and the other through mine, and walked us round and round the paths, and it was walking thus that you made the extraordinary prophecy—
“The War will come in 1914, and Jellicoe will command the Grand Fleet.”
I remember that my practical mind revolted against the prophecy, and I pressed you for reasons. You then told us that the Kiel Canal, according to experts whom you had assembled five or six years before to examine this question, could not be enlarged for the passage of the new German Dreadnoughts before 1914, and that Germany, though bent on war, would not risk it until this date. As regards Jellicoe, you explained how you yourself had so cast his professional career in such directions as to train him for the post, and, after a brief horoscope of his normal prospects of promotion, you indicated your intention of watching over his career—as you actually did.
All this remains vividly in my mind, and I believe in that of my wife, but, as I am not going home for a few days, she shall give you her unbiassed account.
The calculation itself was an interesting one, but what strikes me now as more remarkable is the “flair” with which you forecasted with certainty the state of mind of the German Emperor and his advisers, and their intention to go to war the first moment they dared....
No more now.
In haste,
Yours ever,
(Signed) M. P. A. Hankey.
The grounds for my prophecies are stated elsewhere. I won’t repeat them here. They really weren’t predictions; they were certainties.
I remark in passing that what the sundial said was:—
“Forsitan Ultima.”
By the way, I was called a sundial once by a vituperative woman whom I didn’t know; she wrote a letter abusing me as an optimist, and sent these lines:—
“There he stands amidst the flowers,
Counting only sunny hours,
Heeding neither rain nor mist,
That brazen-faced old optimist.”
Another woman (but I knew her) in sending me some lovely roses to crown the event of a then recent success, sent also some beautiful lines likewise of her own making. She regretted that I preferred a crown of thorns to a crown of the thornless roses she sent me. The rose she alluded to is called “Zephyrine Drouhin,” and, to me, it is astounding that it is so unknown. It is absolutely the only absolute thornless rose; it has absolutely the sweetest scent of any rose; it is absolutely the most glorious coloured of all roses; it blooms more than any rose; it requires no pruning, and costs less than any rose. I planted these roses when I left the Admiralty in 1910. Somebody told the Naval Attaché at Rome, not knowing that he knew me, that I had taken to planting roses, and his remark was: “They’ll d—d well have to grow!” He had served many years with me.
CHAPTER XV
THE BALTIC PROJECT
Note.—This paper was submitted for my consideration by Sir Julian Corbett, in the early autumn of 1914.
From the shape the war has now taken, it is to be assumed that Germany is trusting for success to a repetition of the methods of Frederick the Great in the Seven Years’ War. Not only are the conditions of the present war closely analogous—the main difference being that Great Britain and Austria have changed places—but during the last 15 years the German Great General Staff have been producing an elaborate study of these campaigns.
Broadly stated, Frederick’s original plan in that war was to meet the hostile coalition with a sudden offensive against Saxony, precisely as the Germans began with France. When that offensive failed, Frederick fell back on a defensive plan under which he used his interior position to deliver violent attacks beyond each of his frontiers successively. By this means he was able for seven years to hold his own against odds practically identical with those which now confront Germany; and in the end, though he made none of the conquests he expected, he was able to secure peace on the basis of the status quo ante and materially to enhance his position in Europe.
In the present war, so far as it has gone, the same methods promise the same result. Owing to her excellent communications, Germany has been able to employ Frederick’s methods with even greater success than he did; and at present there seems no certain prospect of the Allies being able to overcome them soon enough to ensure that exhaustion will not sap the vigour and cohesion of the coalition.
The only new condition in favour of the Allies is that the Command of the Sea is now against Germany, and it is possible that its mere passive pressure may avail to bring her to a state of hopeless exhaustion from which we were able to save Frederick in the earlier war. If it is believed that this passive pressure can achieve the desired result within a reasonable time, then there is no reason for changing our present scheme of naval operations. If, on the other hand, we have no sufficient promise of our passive attitude effecting what is required to turn the scale, then it may be well to consider the possibility of bringing our Command of the Sea to bear more actively.
We have only to go back again to the Seven Years’ War to find a means of doing this, which, if feasible under modern conditions, would promise success as surely as it did in the eighteenth century.
Though Frederick’s method succeeded, it was once brought within an ace of failure. From the first he knew that the weak point of his system was his northern frontier.
He knew that a blow in force from the Baltic could at any time paralyse his power of striking right and left, and it was in dread of this from Russia that he began by pressing us so hard to provide him with a covering fleet in that sea.
Owing to our world-wide preoccupations we were never able to provide such a fleet, and the result was that at the end of 1761 the Russians were able to seize the port of Colberg, occupy the greater part of Pomerania, and winter there in preparation for the decisive campaign in the following spring. Frederick’s view of his danger is typified in the story that he now took to carrying a phial of poison in his pocket. Owing, however, to the sudden death of the Czarina in the winter the fatal campaign was never fought. Russia made peace and Prussia was saved.
So critical an episode in the early history of Prussia cannot be without an abiding influence in Berlin. Indeed, it is not too much to say that in a country where military thought tends to dominate naval plans, the main value of the German Fleet must be its ability to keep the command of the Baltic so far in dispute that hostile invasion across it is impossible.
If then it is considered necessary to adopt a more drastic war plan than that we are now pursuing, and to seek to revive the fatal stroke of 1761, it is for consideration whether we are able to break down the situation which the German fleet has set up. Are we, in short, in a position to occupy the Baltic in such strength as to enable an adequate Russian army to land in the spring on the coast of Pomerania within striking distance of Berlin or so as to threaten the German communications eastward?
The first and most obvious difficulty attending such an operation is that it would require the whole of our battle force, and we could not at the same time occupy the North Sea effectively. We should, therefore, lie open to the menace of a counterstroke which might at any time force us to withdraw from the Baltic; and the only means of preventing this—since the western exit of the Kiel Canal cannot be blocked—
would be to sow the North Sea with mines on such a scale that naval operations in it would become impossible.
The objections to such an expedient, both moral and practical, are, of course, very great. The chief moral objection is offence to neutrals. But it is to be observed that they are already suffering severely from the open-sea mining which the Germans inaugurated, and it is possible that, could they be persuaded that carrying the system of open-sea mining to its logical conclusion would expedite the end of the present intolerable conditions, they might be induced to adopt an attitude of acquiescence. The actual attitude of the northern neutral Powers looks at any rate as if they would be glad to acquiesce in any measure which promised them freedom from their increasing apprehension of Germany’s intentions. Sweden, at any rate, who would, after Holland, be the greatest sufferer, has recently been ominously reminded of the days when Napoleon forced her into war with us against her will.
In this connection it may also be observed that where one belligerent departs from the rules of civilised warfare, it is open to the other to take one of two courses. He may secure a moral advantage by refusing to follow a bad lead, or he may seek a physical advantage by forcing the enemy’s crime to its utmost consequences. By the half measures we have adopted hitherto in regard to open-sea mines, we are enjoying neither the one advantage nor the other.
On the general idea of breaking up the German war plan by operations in the Baltic, it may be recalled that it is not new to us. It was attempted—but a little too late—during Napoleon’s Friedland-Eylau campaign. It was again projected in 1854, when our operations in the Great War after Trafalgar, and particularly in the Peninsula, were still living memories. In that year we sent a Fleet into the Baltic with the idea of covering the landing of a French force within striking distance of Petrograd, which was to act in combination with the Prussian army; but as Prussia held back, the idea was never carried out. Still, the mere presence of our Fleet—giving colour to the menace—did avail to keep a very large proportion of the Russian strength away from the Crimea, and so materially hastened the successful conclusion of the war.
On this analogy, it is for consideration whether, even if the suggested operation is not feasible, a menace of carrying it out—concerted with Russia—might not avail seriously to disturb German equilibrium and force her to desperate expedients, even to hazarding a Fleet action or to alienating entirely the Scandinavian Powers by drastic measures of precaution.
The risks, of course, must be serious; but unless we are fairly sure that the passive pressure of our Fleet is really bringing Germany to a state of exhaustion, risks must be taken to use our command of the Sea with greater energy; or, so far as the actual situation promises, we can expect no better issue for the present war than that which the continental coalition was forced to accept in the Seven Years’ War.
Lord Fisher to Mr. Lloyd George.
36, Berkeley Square,
London,
March 28th, 1917.
Dear Prime Minister,
I hardly liked to go further with my remarks this morning, recognising how very valuable your time is, but I would have liked to have added how appalling it is that the Germans may now be about to deal a deadly blow to Russia by sending a large German Force by sea from Kiel to take St. Petersburg (which, as the Russian Prime Minister, Stolypin, told me, is the Key of Russia! All is concentrated there!). And here we are with our Fleet passive and unable to frustrate this German Sea attack on Russia. All this due to the grievous faulty Naval strategy of not adopting the Baltic Project put before Mr. Asquith in association with the scheme for the British Army advancing along the Belgian Coast, by which we should have re-captured Antwerp, and there would have been no German submarine menace such as now is. An Armada of 612 vessels was constructed to carry out this policy, thanks to your splendid approval of the cost when you were Chancellor of the Exchequer.
I. Our Naval Strategy has been unimaginative.
II. Our shipbuilding Policy has been futile, inasmuch as it has not coped with the German Submarine Menace.
III. Our Naval Intelligence of the enemy’s doings is good for nothing. For it is impossible to conceive there would have been apathy at the Admiralty had it been known how the Germans were building submarines in such numbers—3 a week, Sir John Jellicoe told us at the War Cabinet. I say 5 a week.
Yours, etc.,
(Signed) Fisher.
28/3/17.
I append a couple of extracts from Memoranda made by me in 1902, when I was Commander-in-Chief of the Mediterranean Fleet.
“Here we see 5,000 of these offensive floating mines laid down off Port Arthur, covering a wider space than the English Channel, and we, so far, have none, nor any vessel yet fitted! What a scandal! For a purpose unnecessary to be detailed here, it is absolutely obligatory for us to have these mines instantly for war against Germany. They are an imperative strategic necessity, and must be got at once.”