“I have seen and spoken with hundreds of men of all classes and all parts of the country, and all these people, taken singly or united in groups, display a very definite frame of mind. To describe this new psychology we must record the incontestably closer union which has been formed between the political sections of the country. There are no longer any political parties, there are Belgians in Belgium, and that is all; Belgians better acquainted with their country, feeling for it an impulse of passionate tenderness such as a child might feel who saw his mother suffering for the first time, and on his account. Walloons and Flemings, Catholics and Liberals or Socialists, all are more and more frankly united in all that concerns the national life and decisions for the future.
“By uniting the whole nation and its army, by shedding the blood of all our Belgians in every corner of the country, by forcing all hearts, all families, to follow with anguish the movement of those soldiers who fought from Liége to Namur, from Wavre to Antwerp or the Oise, the war has suddenly imposed wider horizons upon all, has inspired all minds with noble and ardent passions, has compelled the good will of all to combine and act in concert in order to defend the common interests.
“Of these profoundly tried minds, of these wonderful energies now employed for the first time, of these atrocious sufferings which have brought all hearts into closer contact, a new Belgium is born, a greater, more generous, more ideal Belgium.”
CHAPTER IV
Britannia Rules the Waves
THE month of October, 1914, contained no important naval contests. On the 15th, the old British cruiser Hawke was torpedoed in the North Sea and nearly five hundred men were lost. On the other hand, on the 17th of October, the light cruiser Undaunted, accompanied by the destroyers, Lance, Legion and Loyal, sank four German destroyers off the Dutch coast. But the opening of November turned the interest of the navy to the Southern Pacific. When the war began Admiral von Spee, with the German Pacific squadron, was at Kiaochau in command of seven vessels. Among these was the Emden, whose adventurous career has been already described. Another, the Karlsruhe, became a privateer in the South Atlantic.
Early in August Von Spee set sail from Kiaochau with two armored cruisers, the Gneisenau and the Scharnhorst and three light cruisers, the Dresden, Leipzig and Nurmberg. These ships were comparatively new, well armed, and of considerable speed. They set off for the great trade highways to destroy, as far as possible, British commerce. Their route led them to the western coast of South America, and arrangements were made so that they were coaled and provisioned from bases in some of the South American states which permitted a slack observance of the laws respecting the duties of neutrals.
A small British squadron had been detailed to protect British commerce in this part of the world. It was commanded by Rear-Admiral Sir Christopher Cradock, a distinguished and popular sailor, who had under his command one twelve-year-old battleship, the Canopus, two armored cruisers, the Good Hope and the Monmouth, the light cruiser Glasgow, and an armed liner, the Otranto. None of these vessels had either great speed or heavy armament. The equipment of the Canopus, indeed, was obsolete. Admiral Cradock’s squadron arrived at Halifax on August 14th, thence sailed to Bermuda, then on past Venezuela and Brazil around the Horn. It visited the Falkland Islands, and by the third week of October was on the coast of Chile. The Canopus had dropped behind for repairs, and though reinforcements were expected, they had not yet arrived. They knew that their force was inferior to that of Admiral von Spee.
One officer wrote, on the 12th of October, “From now till the end of the month is the critical time, as it will decide whether we shall have to fight a superior German force from the Pacific before we can get reinforcements from home or the Mediterranean. We feel that the admiralty ought to have a better force here, but we shall fight cheerfully whatever odds we have to face.”
Admiral Cradock knew well that his enemy was superior in force. From Coronel, where he sent off some cables, he went north on the first of November, and about four o’clock in the afternoon the Glasgow sighted the enemy. The two big German armored cruisers were leading the way, and two light cruisers were following close. The German cruiser Leipzig does not seem to have been in company. The British squadron was led by the Good Hope, with the Monmouth, Glasgow and Otranto following in order. It was a beautiful spectacle. The sun was setting in the wonderful glory which one sees in the Pacific, and the British ships, west of the German, must have appeared to them in brilliant colors. On the east were the snowy peaks of the Andes. Half a gale was blowing and the two squadrons moved south at great speed. About seven o’clock they were about seven miles apart and the Scharnhorst, which was leading the German fleet, opened fire. At this time the Germans were shaded by the inshore twilight, but the British ships must have showed up plainly in the afterglow. The enemy fired with great accuracy. Shell after shell hit the Good Hope and the Monmouth, but the bad light and inferior guns saved the German ships from much damage. The Good Hope was set on fire and at seven-fifty exploded and sank. The Monmouth was also on fire, and turned away to the western sea. The Glasgow had escaped so far, but the whole German squadron bore down upon her. She turned and fled and by nine o’clock was out of sight of the enemy. The Otranto, only an armed liner, had disappeared early in the fight. On the following day the Glasgow worked around to the south, and joined the Canopus, and the two proceeded to the Straits of the Magellan. The account of this battle by the German Admiral von Spee is of especial interest:
“Wind and swell were head on, and the vessels had heavy going, especially the small cruisers on both sides. Observation and distance estimation were under a severe handicap because of the seas which washed over the bridges. The swell was so great that it obscured the aim of the gunners at the six-inch guns on the middle deck, who could not see the sterns of the enemy ships at all, and the bow but seldom. At 6.20 P. M., at a distance of 13,400 yards, I turned one point toward the enemy, and at 6.34 opened fire at a distance of 11,260 yards. The guns of both our armored cruisers were effective, and at 6.39 already we could note the first hit on the Good Hope. I at once resumed a parallel course, instead of bearing slightly toward the enemy. The English opened their fire at this time. I assume that the heavy sea made more trouble for them than it did for us. Their two armored cruisers remained covered by our fire, while they, so far as could be determined, hit the Scharnhorst but twice, and the Gneisenau only four times. At 6.53, when 6,500 yards apart, I ordered a course one point away from the enemy. They were firing more slowly at this time, while we were able to count numerous hits. We could see, among other things, that the top of the Monmouth’s forward turret had been shot away, and that a violent fire was burning in the turret. The Scharnhorst, it is thought, hit the Good Hope about thirty-five times. In spite of our altered course the English changed theirs sufficiently so that the distance between us shrunk to 5,300 yards. There was reason to suspect that the enemy despaired of using his artillery effectively, and was maneuvering for a torpedo attack.