Just after 1pm on Sunday January 24 1915 and several hundred crew of the German armoured cruiser SMS Blücher scramble down the ship’s side as she turns turtle in the North Sea. One hundred years ago this weekend, the first major clash of dreadnoughts took place as British and German capital ships clashed at the Battle of the Dogger Bank. In five minutes, these Matrosen – the German equivalent of matelot – will be unable to use their hands in waters no warmer than 6˚C. In 30 minutes, hypothermia will set in. Within an hour, all will be unconscious. Such was death in the grey wastes. Nearly 800 men perished, either in the icy sea or trapped in the bowels of the Blücher. The cruiser succumbed to at least 50 hits from the guns of the Grand Fleet – and at least a couple of torpedoes during her death throes. Blücher’s final moments were captured by the camera of Fleet Paymaster – equivalent of commander – John Spencer Place aboard one of the cruisers which closed in for the kill. It became one of the most dramatic images of the Great War at sea – proof of a great naval victory over the Germans, and revenge for the infamy of the attacks on the east coast towns of Hartlepool, Scarborough and Whitby one month earlier. But as with most battles in the 1914-18 conflict, the clash at the Dogger Bank was a half-victory which delivered rather less than it offered. As with the sortie by the German Fleet in December, British intelligence was alerted to a sally by the High Seas Fleet. This time, the enemy’s target were British fishermen trawling in the shallows of the Dogger Bank – about 170 miles east of Newcastle. Five battle-cruisers raised steam, joined by more than half a dozen cruisers and three dozen destroyers. Before dawn on January 24, they sighted the Germans’ scouting forces. The core of the enemy force was three battle-cruisers and one armoured cruiser, the Blücher, supported by a handful of light cruisers and 18 destroyers. Put simply, the Germans were outnumbered, outgunned and outpaced. With clear weather and the wind in the Royal Navy’s favour, the Kaiser’s sailors faced annihilation as their admiral, Franz von Hipper, wisely decided to turn for home. Hipper could not outrun his foe and shortly before 9am, the British flagship Lion opened fire at a range of about 20,000 yards – more than 11 miles. Despite a 5:4 superiority over its foe, confusion in the British line led to one German battle-cruiser, the Moltke, remaining untouched as the Royal Navy’s guns concentrated on the three remaining enemy vessels. Lion hit the lead German ship, SMS Seydlitz, with a shell which penetrated the aft turret, causing a flash fire which would have reached her magazine – and blown the vessel apart – but for the decision to flood it. A few minutes later Lion herself almost suffered the same fate as she took a hit from the Derfflinger. Indeed the British flagship was taking terrible punishment – more than a dozen hits from 11in and 12in shells. The ‘big cat’ listed to port, her mess decks filled with smoke, decks buckled making battening down the hatches tricky. For all the damage, casualties numbered little more than 20. But Lion was without power – unable to signal by radio or lamp. To pass on his commands, the battle-cruisers’ commander David Beatty resorted to flags. Two halyards had been shot away in the tumult of battle. The next – separate – instructions Beatty gave were hoisted on the same halyard. They became a single order: course NE, attack the rear of the enemy. In other words: concentrate on the Blücher. Which is exactly what the battle-cruisers did. Beatty tried to stop them demanding his flag lieutenant raise Nelson’s legendary: Engage the enemy more closely. In the intervening 110 years, it had been stricken from the RN codebook. The best the unfortunate young officer could offer was: Keep nearer to the enemy. Amid the fug of gun, fire and boiler smoke, it was not seen. The British closed in on the Blücher, which was sacrificed by Hipper so the bulk of his force could escape. Three in every four men aboard the cruiser died in an agonising final battle which lasted a couple of hours. By then, David Beatty had transferred his flag to destroyer HMS Attack to better direct the battle – and was loudly cheered off the Lion by all hands on deck. He was cheered again two days later when he rejoined the Lion as she was towed back into Rosyth by HMS Indomitable for repairs. Britons celebrated a triumph at a time when there was little joy in the news. Beatty was dispirited convinced “we were going to get four – the lot – and four we ought to have got.” It would be another 16 months before Beatty and his battle-cruisers would clash with Hipper again. Pictures courtesy of the Imperial War Museum
Posted on: Mon, 26 Jan 2015 11:00:50 +0000
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