THE BATTLE OF THE DOGGER BANK.
Up to the 24th of January 1915 squadrons of the German High Sea Fleet had adventured four times into the North Sea. The first occasion was on 28th August, 1914, when the Battle of Heligoland Bight was fought, and the enemy lost three cruisers and two destroyers. On 17th October a squadron of German destroyers was encountered off the Dutch coast by a similar British squadron, and before long four of the enemy ships were sent to the bottom of the sea. Twice afterwards the enemy, greatly daring, left his fortified harbours and minefields; but on such occasions his object was not to fight, but to dodge the British fleet, and inflict "frightfulness" on more or less undefended coast towns. On 3rd November he shelled Yarmouth beach; but was very uneasy during his ineffective attack, and scuttled homewards immediately he was warned that a British fleet was after him. Even on this occasion he did not escape without loss: the cruiser Yorck ran on a German mine, and was sunk. This raid was followed by the attack on Scarborough, Whitby, and the Hartlepools, which I described at length in Chapter XXXV. of our third volume.
Elated by their success in killing the defenceless townsfolk of unprotected towns, the Germans now prepared for another dash across the North Sea. We do not know exactly what their object was. Some tell us that an attack was to be made on the Tyne or the Forth; others say that the enemy hoped to get one or more of his battle cruisers round the north of Scotland, so that they might prey on British commerce. Whatever the object may have been, Rear-Admiral Hipper, who was in command of the Battle Cruiser Squadron detailed for the work, knew that he would probably have to meet a British fleet. If so, he intended to run for home without delay, and to lure the British ships into a trap. He enlarged the minefield north of Heligoland, and gathered there a large force of submarines. He fondly believed that he could entice our vessels into this dangerous area, where his submarines, together with the seaplanes and Zeppelins which were in readiness on the island, would make short work of them. Such was his plan. We are now to see how it failed.
The night of Saturday, the 23rd, was foggy, and our destroyers scouting east of the Dogger Bank tossed all night on the waves, scarcely able to pierce the gloom for a hundred yards around them. Sunday morning, however, dawned sharp and clear; the wind had changed to the north-east, and had swept the mists from the seas. About seven in the morning the light cruiser Aurora sighted the German squadron off the Dogger. At once she signalled the news to Admiral Beatty, and opened fire.
The German squadron which the Aurora had sighted consisted of the Seydlitz (which flew the flag of Rear-Admiral Hipper), the Moltke, the Derfflinger, the Bluecher, together with six light cruisers and a flotilla of destroyers. The first three of the vessels named had a speed of nearly 27 knots, and were armed with either 12-inch or 11-inch guns. The Bluecher was an older and much slower vessel; she could steam 24 knots, and her main armament consisted of 8.2-inch guns. It was clear that in a chase she would have to be left behind, and thus would fall a prey to the enemy.
To meet this force, Admiral Beatty had under his command the great battle cruisers Lion, Tiger, Princess Royal, and New Zealand; together with the Indomitable, four cruisers of the "town" class—the Southampton, the Nottingham, the Birmingham, and the Lowestoft; three light cruisers—the Arethusa, the Aurora, and the Undaunted; as well as two destroyer flotillas. His squadron was superior to that of the Germans in numbers, speed, and weight of fire.
The Dogger Bank, off which the Germans were sighted, is a great shoal almost midway between England and Denmark, and extending to within forty miles of the Yorkshire coast. Its length from north to south is about 160 miles, its breadth is 70 miles, and the average depth of water over it varies from ten to twenty fathoms.[4] South of the Dogger is a second and smaller shoal, known as the Well Bank. Still further south are deeps, such as the "Silver Pit," where the depth is as much as forty-five fathoms.
The Dogger is the chief fishing ground of the North Sea. During the winter the waters above it are alive with trawlers, all engaged in reaping the rich harvest of the waters. Immense quantities of halibut, soles, turbot, brill, plaice, cod, haddock, and whiting are taken, packed in boxes—to be carried off by fish-cutters to the ports, or stored in ice until the trawler is ready to return home. Somewhere near the Dogger, probably on its north-eastern edge, the Germans were encountered. The naval battle which followed was not the first to be fought near the great shoal. In 1781 an English and a Dutch fleet met in these waters, and struggled fiercely; but the action was undecided, and the Dutch claimed a victory.
When the Aurora opened fire, Admiral Beatty's squadron, which was not far away, steered in the direction of the gun flashes. Immediately the German scouting cruisers perceived that a British squadron was after them they turned tail and fled to the south-east. Hipper did not wait to discover the strength of his opponents, but took to his heels at once. This seems to show that his real object was to lure the British ships into the position which he had prepared for them, and there engage them on his own terms. There were 120 miles of open sea to be crossed before the mine-fields were reached.
When the signal was made, "Seven enemy ships—four battle cruisers and three cruisers with destroyers—to the south-west," there was fierce glee on board the British ships. Every man was agog for the fight; all were eager to avenge the women and children who had been murdered so brutally at Scarborough and the Hartlepools. Every gun was manned with men who had vengeance in their hearts, and down below the "black squad" were striving with all their might to get every knot possible out of their engines. A commander was heard to remark, "One would think this was a game of football, the boys are enjoying it so much." The Lion and Tiger were soon racing ahead at thirty knots an hour, and were leaving the less speedy Princess Royal and New Zealand behind. At eight o'clock the situation was as follows: the Germans were moving south-east in line, with the Moltke leading; followed by the Seydlitz and the Derfflinger, the Bluecher bringing up the rear. Their destroyers were on the starboard beam, and their light cruisers ahead. Close upon them were the British destroyers and the light cruisers, which now crossed to the port side in order that their smoke might not hide the big German ships from the British gunners. The Lion, Tiger, Princess Royal, New Zealand, and Indomitable did not follow directly behind the German ships, lest the enemy should throw out mines, but held on a parallel course to the westward.
By nine o'clock the Lion was within 11½ miles of the Bluecher. She fired a shot which fell short, but when the squadrons were ten miles apart she got her first blow home. Do you realize what this means? At ten miles the Bluecher appeared no bigger than a pin point, and she was moving at the rate of thirty miles an hour across the sea. You will agree that the British gunnery must have been superb for hits to be made under these conditions.
Soon the Lion overhauled the slow Bluecher, and in passing gave her a broadside which caused frightful damage. The Lion's quarry, however, was further ahead; and as she began to engage the Derfflinger, the Tiger began to hit out at the Bluecher. She also passed by, and the Princess Royal, the New Zealand, and the Indomitable in turn turned their guns on the rearmost ship of the German line, while the leading British ships were engaging the foremost ships of the enemy. At half-past nine the situation was as shown in the diagram on the next page.
As early as a quarter to ten the Bluecher began to show signs of the heavy punishment inflicted on her. It was now evident that she was doomed. She had been abandoned by her speedier consorts, and her end was only a matter of time. By eleven o'clock the Seydlitz and the Derfflinger were on fire; the Bluecher had fallen behind, and was being mercilessly pounded by the Indomitable.
Meanwhile, the German destroyers had attempted an attack, but had been driven off by the British destroyers. Shortly afterwards the German destroyers got between the Lion and the Tiger and the leading enemy ships, and began to raise huge volumes of smoke, so as to screen the targets from the British gunners. Under cover of this smoke the Germans changed course, and made a half-turn to the north. Again the enemy destroyers attacked at close quarters, hoping to torpedo the Lion and the Tiger. They were, however, driven off by the 4-inch guns of our battle cruisers.
The Sinking of the German Dreadnought "Bluecher," during the Battle of the Dogger Bank, fought on January 24, 1915.
And now while the chase continues, we must return to the Bluecher, which had made a gallant fight, but was nearing her end. Ship after ship had turned its guns upon her with terrible effect: her upper works had been smashed to atoms, and practically every gun which she possessed had been put out of action. Shot and shell had rained upon her, and she was burning furiously.
Battle of January 24, 1915—9.30 a.m.
"We were under fire first in the action and last," said a German survivor. "Almost every British ship flung shot and shell at us. It was awful. I have never seen such gunnery, and hope that as long as I live I never shall. We could not fight such guns as the British ships had, and soon we had no guns with which to fight anything. Our decks were swept by shot, and the guns were smashed and lying in all directions, their crews wiped out. One terrible shell from a big gun I shall never forget. It burst right in the heart of the ship, and killed scores of men. It fell where many men had collected, and killed practically every one of them. We all had our floating equipment, and we soon needed it. One shell killed five men quite close to me, and it was only a matter of time when nothing living would be left upon the ship, if she continued to float. When we knew that we were beaten, and that our flag was not to come down, many of us were praying that the ship would sink, in order that no more men would be killed. We would rather trust to the British picking us up after our ship had sunk than to their missing us with those terrible guns so long as she kept afloat."
About noon a British destroyer, the Meteor, torpedoed the Bluecher, and she began to sink. Here is an officer's description of the final scene:—
"She heeled completely over, and sank in eight and a half minutes, hundreds of men clambering over her side, and standing there, just as if it were the upper deck, waiting for the final plunge. But there was no plunge. Slowly and slowly she sank, and as she went down some were sliding into the sea, others taking running leaps. A few seconds more, and there was no sign of her left, except her dead and living clustered in the water together. We were about three hundred yards away, and watched her go down, and I was particularly struck with the ease and slowness with which she sank. Not till the waves had almost entirely closed over her did the bow heave slightly out of the water, and she disappeared stern first."
The Bluecher went to her doom with her flag flying. Some of the crew, while waiting the order to leap into the water, sang "Die Wacht am Rhein." Officers were seen to shake hands and link arms together, and thus sink into their watery grave. Though the Germans had made no attempt to save the crews of the Monmouth and the Good Hope during the fight off Coronel, and though our men were furious at the fiendish work done by the German cruisers at Scarborough and the Hartlepools, they began the work of rescue at once. Torpedo boats and pinnaces rushed to the scene to pick up survivors, and light cruisers stood by to help.
"A cry of 'Jump!' went up from the deck of the Arethusa, and in a few seconds the sea was dotted thickly with men swimming for their lives. Most of them were equipped with a lifebelt of inflated rubber, and this supported them in the water until the British boats were able to pick them up. Among them were men who had been wounded. The faces of all were blackened with smoke, and in some cases the nerve of the men had almost completely broken down in face of the severe ordeal through which they had passed. Their joy at escaping destruction found expression in many ways. The officers, of whom eight were taken aboard the Arethusa, offered their rings, watches, and money to the British sailors. Our men wished for no reward for performing a humane duty; but the officers pressed the gifts upon them, saying, 'You have saved our lives; take these as little mementos.' One of them, speaking quite good English, said, with a sigh of relief, 'It's been a terrible time, and I am jolly glad it's all over.'"
About one hundred and twenty men were saved from the Bluecher, and more would have been picked up but for the German aircraft, which by this time had arrived from Heligoland. To the intense anger of our sailors, a seaplane and a Zeppelin now began dropping bombs upon the rescue parties. They were careful to give a wide berth to those vessels which were armed with the latest anti-aircraft guns, and confined their attacks to the destroyers, which promptly scattered and then proceeded to drive them off. The airmen, no doubt, thought that the Bluecher was a sinking British ship, and this may have given rise to the absurd tale, which was readily believed in Germany, that one, at least, of our battle cruisers had been sunk.
We must now return to the leading ships of the British squadron. Shortly after the Germans had changed course, Admiral Beatty himself sighted the periscope of a submarine on the starboard bow of the Lion, and promptly turned to port to avoid it. At this time the flagship, though she had been under much fire, had suffered but little. At three minutes past eleven, however, she was struck in the bow by a chance shot, which damaged her feed tank. According to German accounts, the Lion was then about seventy miles from Heligoland. The accident, for it was no more, disabled the Lion. She had to reduce speed and fall out of the line. Admiral Beatty at once called up the destroyer Attack, and in it proceeded full speed in pursuit of the German squadron.
The Lion moved away to the north-west, and in the afternoon her engines began to give serious trouble. The Indomitable, which had by this time settled with the Bluecher, took the Lion in tow, and after some hours of great anxiety brought her safely to port. The towing home of the Lion by the Indomitable was a very fine feat of seamanship. She could only proceed at five knots an hour, and at this snail's pace was a fair target for submarines. None, however, dared attack her; for she bristled with torpedo defence guns, and was surrounded by destroyers.
By twenty minutes past twelve the Attack overtook the Princess Royal, on which Admiral Beatty hoisted his flag. He now discovered that his squadron had broken off the fight, and was retiring northwards. We do not know exactly why the enemy was not followed up; but as the British ships were then only forty miles from the minefield, it is probable that the admiral in temporary command thought that his vessels would be endangered if he proceeded any further. After orders had been given to clear away and make for port, the grimy stokers of the Princess Royal swarmed on deck and greeted Admiral Beatty with a shout of "Well done, David!"
Only by sheer good luck did any of the German ships escape. Had the Lion not been disabled, or had the squadron included another battle cruiser, it is probable that none of the German ships would have reached home to tell the tale. There was much disappointment in Britain when it was known that only the slowest and weakest of the German Dreadnoughts had been accounted for. Our losses were few: only fourteen men had been killed and six wounded; no British vessel had been lost; the Lion had been hit fifteen times, and the Tiger eight times, but the damage was soon repaired, and when a party of journalists visited the ships in the following October they could not see the scars of battle until they were pointed out. The Germans lost the Bluecher; the Seydlitz and Derfflinger were very hard hit, and many of their crews must have perished.
During the remainder of the year 1915 the German Fleet wisely remained in harbour. The German High Sea Fleet had become the Kiel Canal fleet, and nothing more.
There was great excitement in the Forth ports when the good news was received, and thousands of eyes were turned seawards to watch for the homecoming of the battle cruisers. Shortly after four o'clock the sound of cheering was heard. A moment later ringing "Hip, hip, hurrahs!" echoed from vessels farther up the river, and from the misty dimness of the upper reaches. "Got 'em this time!" said a smiling old salt on board a mine-sweeper. "Hark to the boys!"
A batch of about 280 prisoners, including the captain of the Bluecher, was taken to Edinburgh Castle. As they were marched through the streets of the city one of the men asked the officer in charge, "What place is this?" When he was told that it was the capital of Scotland, he smiled superior. "Oh no," he said; "Edinburgh is in ruins, and the Forth Bridge is destroyed."
