It has been described by a German naval writer as "the strategical basis of the German fleet, distant about 40 miles from the mouths of the Elbe, the Weser, and the Jadhe. It is a fortress of the most modern kind, furnished with the newest weapons, and fortified with the utmost technical skill. Its guns, contained in armour-plated revolving towers and bomb-proof casemates, dominate the sea over a circle from 20 to 25 miles in diameter. Powerful moles, some 650 feet long, protect the flotillas of torpedo-boats and submarines, and great stores of ammunition and supplies facilitate the provisioning of our ships."[84]
Over and around this rock-bound fortress in the early hours of the morning of 28th August hung a thick mist—almost a light fog. Now and again the watchers on duty caught sight of the phantom shapes of the German destroyers and torpedo-boats as they carried out their never-ending sentry-go over the approaches to the Elbe. Presently out at sea there were ruddy glimmers through the haze, followed by the slam of small cannon. Away to the westward, in a lift of the mist, the German patrols suddenly "spotted" the porpoise-like forms of three big submarines brazenly exposing themselves on the surface, and a general dash was made in the direction of this splendid "bag".
But they were too late. The intruders had dived, and were out of sight or hearing. Then suddenly broke out a rapid banging all round in the mist.
What was happening? As a matter of fact, our First and Third Destroyer Flotillas, supported by the First Light-cruiser Squadron, and with the First Battle-cruiser Squadron in reserve, were carrying out an ingenious plan which was described as "a scooping movement" against the German war-craft known to be in the neighbourhood of Heligoland. Some of our submarines were also playing their part, and it is probable that the "scoop" was planned on information previously gained by these little craft, since it was officially announced by the Press Bureau, after the battle, that "the success of this operation was due in the first instance to the information brought to the admiral by the submarine officers, who have, during the past three weeks, shown extraordinary daring and enterprise in penetrating the enemy's waters".
THE SINKING OF THE GERMAN CRUISER MAINZ
A snapshot from one of the British war-ships engaged in the fight off Heligoland.
The three submarines were a decoy to draw the enemy's flotillas to the westward. Then down came the saucy Arethusa, looking not unlike a big destroyer herself, flying the broad pennant of Commodore R. Y. Tyrwhitt, and the destroyers of the Third Flotilla. The new-comers immediately attacked the German Flotilla, which was now making for Heligoland. The Arethusa, in her turn, was attacked by two German cruisers, and there was something in the nature of a general mêlée, in which the Fearless and the First Destroyer Flotilla very shortly took a hand. Our gunnery seems to have been the more effective, but all the same our flotillas were somewhat hardly pressed until the Light Cruiser Squadron, and finally the battle-cruisers, with their enormous guns, came looming colossal out of the mist and gave the German cruisers the coup de grâce. The Köln and Mainz were set on fire and sunk outright, the third cruiser, subsequently understood to have been the Ariadne, disappeared blazing into the fog, only to founder shortly afterwards, while two destroyers were also accounted for. The Arethusa was somewhat damaged, and was towed out of the fight by the Fearless. Of course, with the arrival of our reinforcements, we were in overwhelming superiority, and our principal risk lay in the enemy submarines, which attempted an attack that was balked by the high speed of our ships and the alertness of our destroyers.
A thrilling account of the engagement is contained in a letter[85], written by a naval officer who evidently was serving on board one of our destroyers. I do not think I can do better than quote from it: "We destroyers went in and lured the enemy out and had lots of excitement. The big fellows then came up and did some excellent target practice, and we were very glad to see them come; but they ought not to consider we had a fight, because it was a massacre, not a fight. It was superb generalship having overwhelming forces on the spot, but there was really nothing for them to do except shoot the enemy, even as Pa shoots pheasants. For us who put up the quarry in its lair, there was no doubt more to do than 'shoot the enemy', for in our case the shooting was passive and not active only! For that very reason the fight did us of the destroyers more good than it did our big fellows, for my humble opinion, based on limited observation, is that no ship is really herself until she has been under fire. The second time she goes into action you may judge her character; she is not likely to do normally well the first time. We all need to be stiffened and then given a week or two to take it all in. After that we are 'set'. A ship will always do better in her second action. To see the old Fearless charging around the field of fight (it was her second engagement) seeking fresh foes was most inspiriting. Until the big brothers came up she was absolutely all in all to us, and she has no bigger guns than we have. I also learn that there is all the difference in the world between a 4-inch gun in a cruiser and a 4-inch gun in a destroyer. I would regard a cruiser armed with a 3-inch as about a match for a destroyer with a 4-inch; but then I have personally only looked at it from a destroyer point of view. But it must be more unpleasant to have half a dozen plumped accurately and together at you, with a well-arranged 'fire-control' guiding them, watching their fall, and applying corrections to the range scientifically and dispassionately, rather than to have isolated shots banged off from a vibrating pulsating destroyer, turning this way and that, with no one to look where the shot falls, except, perhaps, the captain, who has a lot of other things to attend to. . . .
"Have you ever watched a dog rush in on a flock of sheep and scatter them? He goes for the nearest and barks at it, goes so much faster than the flock that it bunches up with its companions; the dog then barks at another and the sheep spread out fanwise, so that all round in front of the dog is a semicircle of sheep and behind him none. That was much what we did at 7 a.m. on the 28th. The sheep were the German torpedo-craft, who fell back just on the limits of range and tried to lure us within fire of the Heligoland forts. Pas si bête! But a cruiser came out and engaged our Arethusa; they had a real heart-to-heart talk while we looked on, and a few of us tried to shoot at the enemy too, though it was beyond our distance. We were getting nearer and nearer Heligoland all the time; there was a thick mist, and I expected every minute to find the forts on the island bombarding us; so Arethusa presently drew off after landing at least one good shell on the enemy.