Two days later when I received Admiral Keyes in my room at the Admiralty, I said, ‘We sent you a terrible message the other night. I hardly expected to see you again.’ ‘It was terrible,’ he said, ‘not getting it till I was nearly home. I waited three hours in the hopes of such an order, and I very nearly did it on my own responsibility,’ and he proceeded to reproach himself without need.[[98]]
So far I have described this episode of December 16 exactly as it appeared from the War Room of the Admiralty, and as we understood it at the time. But let us now see in essentials what had happened.[[99]] No one could tell at what point on our shores the German attack would fall; and with 500 miles of coast studded with possible objectives to guard, there could be no certain solution. The orders issued by the Commander-in-Chief, however, and the dawn position selected, ably comprehended the design of the enemy. In pursuance of these orders the 2nd Battle Squadron (6 ships) and the Battle Cruiser Squadron (4 ships), together with the 3rd Cruiser Squadron, a Squadron of Light Cruisers and a flotilla, steaming down from Scapa, Cromarty and the Forth, arrived at about 5.30 in the morning of the 16th, two hours and a half before daybreak, at the Southern edge of the Dogger Bank. Here in the very centre of the North Sea, almost on a line drawn from Hartlepool to Heligoland, the advanced screen of British destroyers became engaged with German destroyers and light cruisers, and when daylight came they sighted a large German cruiser identified as the Roon.[[100]] Fighting ensued, some of our destroyers were hit, and the Germans retreated to the Eastward. Thereupon Admiral Beatty with his battle cruisers began to chase the Roon. From this pursuit he was recalled by the news which reached him and Admiral Warrender from the Admiralty about 9 a.m., that the German battle cruisers were bombarding Hartlepool and later Scarborough. All the British ships at once turned to the Westward and steamed abreast in a long line towards the British coast and the German battle cruisers, whose interception appeared highly probable.
During the war we were puzzled to understand what the Roon and the German light forces were doing on the edge of the Dogger Bank at this hour in the morning. It was an ill-assorted force to be in so exposed a position, and it was not a force or in a position, which could be of any help to the German cruisers raiding the British coasts. Now we know the answer. The Roon and her cruisers and destroyers were part of the advanced screen of the German High Sea Fleet who were out in full force, three squadrons strong, with all their attendant vessels and numerous flotillas. Admiral von Ingenohl in command of the High Sea Fleet had sailed from Cuxhaven after darkness had fallen on the evening of the 15th (between 4 and 5 p.m.) and before dawn on the 16th was pushing boldly out towards the Dogger Bank in support of his battle cruisers who, under Admiral von Hipper were already approaching the British shores. Had von Ingenohl continued on his course, as was his intention, his scouts would between 8 and 9 o’clock, in the clear weather of that morning in this part of the North Sea, have come in sight of the British battle cruisers and the 2nd Battle Squadron coming down from the North. A meeting was almost certain. What would have happened? Admiral von Tirpitz proclaims that this was the one heaven-sent never-recurring opportunity for a battle with the odds enormously in German favour. ‘On December 16,’ he wrote a few weeks later, ‘Ingenohl had the fate of Germany in the palm of his hand. I boil with inward emotion whenever I think of it.’ We will examine this claim later. Let us first follow the event.
Admiral von Ingenohl had already strained his instructions by going so far to sea. An appeal by him against the ‘Muzzling Order,’ which the Emperor had issued after the action of the Heligoland Bight (August 28), had recently encountered a rebuff. ‘The Fleet must be held back and avoid actions which might lead to heavy losses.’ Such had been the latest ukase. And here was the Fleet right out in the middle of the North Sea in the darkness of a December dawn. Suddenly the flashes of guns, English destroyers reported in action with the cruisers of his screen, the screen retiring, the destroyers pursuing—and still two hours before daylight. Von Ingenohl conceived himself in danger of a torpedo attack in darkness. At about 5.30 therefore he turned his whole Fleet about and steamed off South-Eastward, and shortly after 6 o’clock, increasingly disquieted by his hampering instructions, but knowing no more of the presence of our squadrons than they of him, he, in the justly chosen words of the British official historian, ‘fairly turned tail and made for home, leaving his raiding force in the air.’ Even so, at 6 o’clock the two Fleets were only about 50 miles apart and their light forces in contact! Says Scheer, who was in command of the German 2nd Squadron (p. 71), ‘Our premature turning on to an East-South-East course had robbed us of the opportunity of meeting certain divisions of the enemy according to the pre-arranged plan, which is now seen to have been correct.’
There was, however, no compulsion upon Admirals Warrender and Beatty to fight such an action. Their squadrons were moving properly protected by their screen of cruisers and destroyers. In this part of the sea and at this hour the weather was quite clear. They would have known what forces they were in presence of, before they could become seriously engaged. There would not have been any justification for trying to fight the High Sea Fleet of twenty battleships, with six battleships and four battle cruisers, even though these comprised our most powerful vessels. Nor was there any need. The British 2nd Battle Squadron could steam in company at 20 knots, or could escape with Forced Draught at 21, and only six of von Ingenohl’s ships could equal that speed. As for the battle cruisers, nothing could catch them. The safety of this force acting detached from the main British Fleet was inherent in its speed. Admirals Warrender and Beatty could therefore have refused battle with the German Fleet, and it would certainly have been their duty to do so. Still having regard to the large numbers of destroyers at sea with the German Fleet and the chances of darkness and weather, the situation at this juncture, as we now know it to have been, gives cause for profound reflection. That it never materialised unfavourably was the reward of previous audacity. The sixteenth of December lay under the safeguard of the twenty-eighth of August.
We now enter upon the second phase of this extraordinary day. All four British squadrons with their flotilla between 9 and 10 o’clock were steaming towards the British coasts. The German raiding cruisers, having finished their bombardments, were now seeking to return home with the utmost speed. There were two large minefields which had been laid earlier in the war by the Germans off the Yorkshire coast, and we, having located them and considering them as a protection against raiding, had improved them by laying additional mines. Between these minefields there was opposite Whitby and Scarborough a gap about fifteen miles wide. Sir John Jellicoe, reflecting upon the whole position from the Iron Duke from afar, formed the opinion that the enemy would either try to escape to the Northward by steaming up our coast inside the minefield or, much more probably, would come straight out Eastward through the gap opposite Whitby and Scarborough. He had ordered the 3rd Battle Squadron from the Forth to close the gap to the Northward and this was rapidly being effected. At 10.10 he signalled to Sir George Warrender telling him the position of the gap in the minefields opposite Whitby and adding ‘Enemy will in all probability come out there.’ Admirals Warrender and Beatty were already proceeding on this assumption, which in fact correctly divined what the Germans were doing.
At 11 o’clock, therefore, the four German battle cruisers, with their light cruisers returning independently 60 miles ahead of them, were steaming due East for Heligoland at their highest speed. At the same time all our four squadrons were steaming due West in a broad sweep directly towards them. The distance between the fleets was about 100 miles, and they were approaching each other at an aggregate speed of over 40 miles an hour. Across the course of our fleet lay the South-West patch of the Dogger Bank on which there was not enough water for battle cruisers, either British or German. The British sweeping line therefore divided—Beatty and the light cruisers going North of the patch. Warrender with the battleships and the 3rd Cruiser Squadron going South of it. This involved a certain detour and delay in our advance. The weather, moreover, became very bad. The mist descended and the sea ran high. The German light cruisers were now sighted by our Light Cruiser Squadron scouting ahead of Beatty through the driving mist and rainstorms. The Southampton, the most Southerly light cruiser, opened fire and was answered by the enemy. Hopes on board the Lion rose. Just at the place and just at the moment when they might expect it, was the enemy’s cruiser screen. Clearly the main body was behind them: probably it was not far behind. But now Mischance intervened.
The other three British light cruisers, seeing the Southampton engaged to the Southward, turned in that direction to join in the fight and the Birmingham opened fire. This was not in accordance with the wishes of Admiral Beatty, who wished to keep his scouts in front of him at the time when he must expect to be closely approaching the enemy’s battle cruisers, and when the danger of missing them was so great. He therefore ordered his light cruisers to return to their stations. The signal, instead of being directed by name to the 2 vessels who were not engaged, was made general to the Light Cruiser Squadron, and acting on this order the Southampton and Birmingham both broke off their action with the German cruiser and resumed their places in the line. The German light cruisers turned off to the Southward and vanished in the mist. Contact with them was thus lost.
Meanwhile, however, the battle cruisers on both sides continued rapidly to approach each other. At 12.15 Admiral von Hipper warned by his light cruisers that an enemy force was immediately in front of him, also turned slightly and to the South-East. Admiral Beatty continued on his course till 12.30. At this moment the two battle cruiser forces were only 25 miles apart and still rapidly closing.[[101]] But now again Mischance! The German light cruisers, deflected away to the Southward from Beatty, came into contact with the 3rd Cruiser Squadron in front of Warrender. Fire again was opened and returned, and again the enemy cruisers were lost in the thick mist. They reported to von Hipper that on this path also was a blocking force. Thereupon at 12.45 he made ‘a three-quarters left about turn’ (if I may employ a cavalry term), and dodged off due North. This by itself would not have saved him. Had Admiral Beatty held on his original course for another quarter of an hour, an action at decisive ranges must have begun before 1 o’clock. But observe what had happened.