On the morning of the 17th the British advanced to the village of Sahain,[177]only to discover that the Turks had abandoned it. Nine miles farther up the river, at a place called Sahil, the enemy lay in force ready to attack. An officer with the expedition thus describes the Turkish position:—
"Imagine a billiard table, only, of course, thousands of times bigger, and instead of being green cloth it is sandy desert. Imagine that one end of the table is high ground held by the Turks with guns in position, and the infantry entrenched, and then imagine us attacking them from the other end. Not a scrap of cover of any kind; absolutely flat and unbroken; no cover for the guns or infantry advancing, no cover for the hospital or wounded as we advanced—nothing; simply a wide, flat, sandy plain!"
"Imagine a billiard table, only, of course, thousands of times bigger, and instead of being green cloth it is sandy desert. Imagine that one end of the table is high ground held by the Turks with guns in position, and the infantry entrenched, and then imagine us attacking them from the other end. Not a scrap of cover of any kind; absolutely flat and unbroken; no cover for the guns or infantry advancing, no cover for the hospital or wounded as we advanced—nothing; simply a wide, flat, sandy plain!"
To make matters worse, recent rains had made the plain a slough, so that the cavalry and guns could scarcely proceed at more than a walking pace.
Early on the morning of the 18th our batteries and gun-boats began bombarding the Turkish trenches. The artillery of the enemy replied, but the marksmanship was bad, though General Barrett had a narrow escape from a shrapnel shell which buried itself in the ground at his feet. The Turkish infantry, however, made excellent practice, and their bullets swept the front with a withering fire. Nevertheless, our men advanced with admirable steadiness. The honours of the day went to the 2nd Dorsets, who, without a moment's wavering, crept nearer and nearer to the enemy, until they were near enough for the final bayonet charge. When they leaped to their feet and dashed forward the Turks broke from their trenches, and, flinging away their arms, ammunition, and even their clothes, fled to the rear.
Owing to the soggy nature of the ground and to a mirage which screened the flight of the enemy, pursuit was well-nigh impossible. About 4 p.m. the little battle was practically over—the trenches, two guns, and the camp of the enemy were in our possession. The Dorsets lost 130 men in this engagement out of a total casualty list of 353, which included three officers and thirty-five men killed. More than 1,500 Turks were dead or wounded.
On the 21st news arrived that the Turks had abandoned Basra, and that Arabs were looting the place. A British force was at once embarked on river steamers, while other troops were sent forward across the desert on foot. About eight miles beyond Sahil the Turks had attempted to impede the navigation of the river by sinking ships in the fairway; but the business had been badly done, and our gunboats, after silencing a battery of Krupp guns on the bank, got past the obstruction. About ten on the morning of the 22nd the river force entered Basra without opposition. Later in the day the desert column arrived; the German flag was hauled down, and the Union Jack was hoisted in its stead. During the remainder of the month the British prepared a base camp a few miles up the river.
At the beginning of December news arrived that the Turks had reassembled at Kurna, some forty-nine miles above Basra, and were about to put their fortunes to the test once more. The sketch map on page277shows you the position of Kurna, the highest point on the river to which ocean-going steamers can ascend. You will notice that the old and now partly-blocked-up channel of the Euphrates unites with the Tigris at Kurna, and that the town occupies a strong position in the angle between the rivers, with broad waters on two sides of it. Some people tell us that Kurna stands on the site of the garden of Eden, though others say that the abode of our first parents lay to the north-west of Bagdad.
Not much opposition was expected at Kurna, so only a small force, including a detachment of the Norfolks, was sent upstream on 3rd December. It was accompanied by three gunboats, a yacht, and two launches, all armed. Next morning the troops were landed on the eastern bank about four miles below Kurna, while the gunboats went ahead to engage the Turkish artillery and to shell the town. By midday the British force was looking across the three-hundred-yard-wide stream towards the palm groves which surround Kurna, and was attacking the village of Mezera, which stands about a mile from the left bank of the Tigris. The Turks were driven out of the village, and withdrew to the bank of the river, where they kept up so heavy a fire that our men were compelled to retire. It was now evident that the Turks were holding the place in force, and that the task of the British was much harder than had been supposed.
The attackers dug themselves in, and sent back to Basra for reinforcements, which arrived on 7th December. On that day the action of the 5th was fought over again, but with far better results. Mezera was recaptured, the Turkish trenches on the bank of the river were cleared, and the survivors escaped across the stream. The gunboats did excellent work, and several of them were hit.
It was now clear that Kurna could not be taken by a frontal attack. The only way was to cross the river above the town and fall upon the place from the rear. Early on 8th December two battalions with two mountain guns were marched a long way up the river; some daring sappers swam the stream carrying with them a wire. Snipers fired at them repeatedly, but they managed to get across safely, and construct a sort of flying bridge. By this means, and also by the use of a dhow which had been seized, our troops and their guns crossed the river. By evening they had entrenched themselves amidst the trees to the north of Kurna. All was ready for the final assault.
It was never delivered. On the night of the 8th
"a small steamer came down from Kurna showing all her lights, so we did not fire on her. She turned out to be carrying three Turkish officers who had come to offer the surrender of Kurna! Of course we knew we could get into the town, but thought most of the garrison would escape up the river Euphrates. They wanted to be allowed to march out with their arms, but, of course, we would not agree to that, and after about an hour they agreed to an unconditional surrender."
"a small steamer came down from Kurna showing all her lights, so we did not fire on her. She turned out to be carrying three Turkish officers who had come to offer the surrender of Kurna! Of course we knew we could get into the town, but thought most of the garrison would escape up the river Euphrates. They wanted to be allowed to march out with their arms, but, of course, we would not agree to that, and after about an hour they agreed to an unconditional surrender."
Thus Kurna fell into British hands. The whole garrison surrendered, and the Turkish officers gave up their swords; but as a compliment to the commander his sword was returned to him. Chaldea was now in our possession, and we were well placed to beat off attacks from the north. There were still, however, many Turkish troops in the neighbourhood, but they did not make any serious attack on us. We had achieved our purpose, and had built up a strong barricade against an enemy advance to the Persian Gulf and a threat to the security of India.
"We are now," wrote an officer on December 13th, "in a big entrenched camp outside Kurna. . . . Although this is my own regiment, and one is naturally proud of it, I must say they have behaved splendidly. They are a jolly good lot, always merry and bright, and never any trouble. By the way, I heard a rather funny remark last night by one of the men. The mosquitoes are rather bad here, and in the middle of the night, about 1 a.m., I woke up and heard the man say to his neighbour: ''Ere, Bill, if this is the garden of Eden, I wonder what Adam and Eve did with these 'ere mosquitoes a-buzzin' around them.'"
"We are now," wrote an officer on December 13th, "in a big entrenched camp outside Kurna. . . . Although this is my own regiment, and one is naturally proud of it, I must say they have behaved splendidly. They are a jolly good lot, always merry and bright, and never any trouble. By the way, I heard a rather funny remark last night by one of the men. The mosquitoes are rather bad here, and in the middle of the night, about 1 a.m., I woke up and heard the man say to his neighbour: ''Ere, Bill, if this is the garden of Eden, I wonder what Adam and Eve did with these 'ere mosquitoes a-buzzin' around them.'"
While Anglo-Indian troops were winning easy victories on the desert sands of Chaldea, Russians and Turks were locked in deadly combat amidst the rocky uplands of the broad isthmus that extends between the Black Sea and the Caspian Sea. The most striking natural feature of this region is the great chain of the Caucasus, the most stupendous mountain mass of Western Eurasia. It strikes from north-west to south-east right across the country like a huge frowning wall, and in this respect resembles the Pyrenees, though its peaks are vastly higher and much of it is crowned with perpetual snow. So formidable and complete is this great natural barrier that no railway crosses it, and only two main roads have been constructed over its passes. The railway which carries the traveller from the north to the south of the chain has to creep round by way of the strip of low land between its eastern end and the Caspian Sea.
One would suppose that this huge barrier would mark off race from race, civilization from civilization, and religion from religion; that Europe would stop short on its northern slopes, and Asia begin on its southern side. This is true in a general sense, but the whole tangled region of lofty mountains, with its maze of spurs and plateaus and foothills, with towns and villages five or six thousand feet above sea-level, is inhabited by many more or less Christian tribes, and is part of Russia. It forms the government of the Caucasus, and its southern boundary marches with Turkey on the west and with Persia on the east. The Turkish fortress of Erzerum is only about seventy miles from the Russian frontier.
This mountainous region has been a cockpit of struggle from very early times, but the difficult nature of the country has enabled the wild and turbulent highlanders to maintain their independence against Turk and Persian and Russian alike. Not until 1835 did Russia begin to annex the country; she did not come into full possession of it until more than forty years later.
Before I describe the actual fighting let us look a little closer at this Russian government of the Caucasus.[178]Its main features are the great block of the Caucasus range and the lower mountain region to the south, known as Georgia. Between the two, at a distance of about sixty miles from the high ridge of the Caucasus, is a natural trench which rises gradually from the Black Sea for 3,000 feet to the watershed, and then slopes down to the Caspian Sea. Along this depression from Batum, on the Black Sea, to the great oil town of Baku, on the Caspian Sea, runs the railway which I have already mentioned. On it, about half-way between Batum and Baku, and also on the chief road which crosses the Caucasus, is Tiflis, the capital. It stands on the valley floor, surrounded by gray heights rising from twelve to fifteen hundred feet above it, and occupies both banks of the river Kur.
The fighting which I am going to describe all took place to the south of Tiflis, between the depression mentioned above and the Turkish border. You will notice that a railway runs south from Tiflis amidst the Georgian mountains, and then swings eastwards to the frontier. This railway has to climb two ridges of fairly high mountains, and at its railhead of Sarikamish it is 6,000 feet above sea-level. The whole country through which it passes is a wild confusion of high hills with summits of 10,000 feet in elevation, and deep gorges, leading up to the Armenian plateau which I mentioned on page270. It is impossible to get from one valley to another, except by the railway, without climbing steep and snow-clad ridges. You can scarcely conceive of a more difficult country in which to carry on the operations of war.
For the Caucasus campaign which the Turks were now about to begin they collected at Erzerum an army of 150,000men with which to oppose the Russian army, which was not more than 100,000 strong. The object of the Turks was to capture the fortress of Kars, and thus open the way to Tiflis and to the Caspian oil fields at Baku. In order to do this they proposed to entice the Russians from Sarikamish across the frontier, and hold them at some point as far from the railhead as possible. While the Russian front was thus held, the Turks intended to make a wide encircling movement with their left centre and fall upon Sarikamish. At the same time, their left was to push up the Choruk River, cross the mountains to Ardahan, follow the road to Kars, and thus take the fortress in the rear.
Fighting began in the first fortnight of November. The Russians advanced from Sarikamish, and crossed the frontier to within about forty or fifty miles of Erzerum. Now that they were sufficiently far from their railhead, the great Turkish plan was put into operation. You will understand more clearly what the plan was if you study the little inset map on the opposite page. The 11th Corps was ordered to hold the Russians in the direction of Erzerum, while the 10th Corps, at Id, was to follow a bad mountain road which crosses the passes and comes down to the railway between Sarikamish and Kars. Between the 10th Corps and the 11th Corps a third corps, the 9th, was also to strike across the mountains directly at the railhead.
Meanwhile the 1st Corps was carried in transports to Trebizond, on the Black Sea. It was to follow the valley of the Choruk until it came to a mountain road which climbs a pass of more than eight thousand feet, and runs to the town of Ardahan, from which there is a fairly easy road to Kars.
About the middle of December the 11th Corps took the offensive, and, after fierce fighting, pushed back the Russians for about a dozen miles. On Christmas Day the Russians made a stand. At that time they were strung out along the railway and the road that runs by the side of it for about thirty miles. Meanwhile the 9th and 10th Corps had struggled over the high hills, and were descending upon Sarikamish and the railway to the east of it; while the 1st Corps, on the extreme Turkish left, had climbed the mountains at the head of the Choruk valley in the teeth of fierce blizzards, and had reached a position from which in the pauses of the storms they could look down on Ardahan. On 28th December it seemed as if the Turkish plan had succeeded.
But the forces which had toiled over the mountains and had battled with the furious storms and the deep snow were worn out and utterly incapable of meeting the Russians. Their transport and big guns could not follow them over the rocky steeps; so they were without artillery, ammunition, and a proper supply of food. Many of the men were starving, and their hands and feet were frost-bitten, while thousands of others could only crawl along in a dazed and numb condition. It was impossible for these hungry, cold, and toil-worn men to make a great united attack, and the Russians were therefore able to deal with them piecemeal.
First they dealt with the 10th Corps. On January 1, 1915, after three days of hard fighting on the railway, they forced this corps to retreat into the hills. This retreat left the 9th Corps unsupported. The Russians had pushed forward their right in pursuit of the retreating enemy, and at the same time their left had advanced, so that the 9th Corps was taken on both flanks. It fought with the fury of despair, and on January 3, 1915, when it had almost been wiped out, the remnants laid down their arms. It is said that the Turks yielded rather to cold and hunger than to the onset of the Russians; that they surrendered as much to the Russian field kitchens as to Russian steel.
Meanwhile the 1st Corps had entered Ardahan, but could not advance any farther. The Russian force which had been detached to cope with it drove the worn-out Turks from the town, and thrust them back in complete rout into the mountains and towards the Choruk valley, by which they had advanced. The 10th Corps, now in flight, was also heading in the same direction. The 11th Corps, which had been holding up the Russians on the road from Erzerum to Sarikamish, now made a big effort to save the situation. It had been unable to rescue the 9th Corps, but it might do something to cover the retreat of the 10th Corps. Accordingly it attacked vigorously, and pushed back the Russians to within twenty miles of Sarikamish, where three days' heavy fighting took place amidst the snowdrifts. By January 17, 1915, the 11th Corps had also been broken, and was forced to retreat on Erzerum, with a great loss of men and guns.
While this struggle was going on, the Russian rightwas pursuing the 1st Corps and the remnant of the 10th and was driving them towards Trebizond. The Turkish navy attempted to bring reinforcements and stores to these harried corps; but Russian warships sank several of the transports and provision vessels, and hunted theBreslauand theHamidieh, which accompanied them, back to Constantinople. TheGoebenhad already been crippled and put out of action for several weeks.
So, in hopeless and utter failure, ended the great adventure in the Caucasus. The plan of campaign had been prepared by German generals, who worked from the map without any actual knowledge of the terribly difficult country in which the troops were to operate. They did not foresee that the mountains and gorges, the broken tracks, the fierce storms, the deep snow, and the biting cold were of themselves sufficient to defeat any army, however brave and determined. Neither did they foresee that the Turks would have to fight when worn out with marching and privation. They set their allies an impossible task; but the Turks fought like heroes. More than 50,000 of them were killed or wounded, or led away into captivity. For many months to come, Russia had nothing to fear from the Turks in the Caucasus.
Immediately war was declared on Turkey several of our submarines were sent to the Dardanelles, to destroy, if possible, some of the Turkish warships. Submarine B11 was most successful in this work, and its commander,
Lieutenant Norman Douglas Holbrook, R.N., was awarded the Victoria Cross for a conspicuous act of bravery on 13th December. On that day he entered the Dardanelles, and, notwithstanding the difficult current, dived his vessel under five rows of mines, and then torpedoed the Turkish battleshipMessudiyeh, which was guarding the mine-field. After this exploit he brought his vessel back safely, though it was fiercely attacked by gun fire and torpedo boats. So beset was he that on one occasion he had to submerge the submarine for nine hours.
During some hundreds of pages I have told you nothing about the part which gallant little Serbia was playing in the great struggle. On page 76 of our second volume I briefly summed up the situation at the end of August 1914. At that time the first Austrian invasion had failed, and the country was almost clear of the enemy. The Austrians had suffered a serious set-back.
Early in September they prepared a second army of invasion. Before I follow its fortunes, I want you to look closely at the little map on the opposite page. You notice that from the railway uniting the Lower Drina with Shabatz on the Save, right away to the southern frontier, the country is criss-crossed in all directions by great uplands, almost as difficult for an army to traverse as those of Georgia. The river valleys alone give access to the interior, and afford railway routes. There are a few good government highways, but most of the roads are mere tracks, which in wet weather become quagmires. When once the autumn rains set in, the work of transport in Serbia is greatly hampered.
All the lowland parts of Serbia lie along the right bank of the Save and the Danube. This district is open, though hilly. East of Shabatz the lowlands form a rough triangle, with the course of the river Save as its base, and the highland town of Valjevo, on the river Kolubara, as its apex. It was across this triangle of easy country that the Austrians made their second invasion.
The Serbians did not wait for the Austrian attack, but pushed over the plain, and in the darkness of night on 6th September crossed the Save at several points, and made a dash on the Hungarian town of Semlin, opposite Belgrade. They occupied the place on the 10th, but were unable to hold it, and were driven back with heavy losses into the Tser Mountains, which you see marked on the map.
The Austrian commander-in-chief proposed to turn the Serbian left, and at the same time hurry forward mountain troops to Valjevo, and thus cut off the retreat of the Serbian army. During September and October attacks and counter-attacks were constant, but neither side made much headway. The Austrians could not drive the Serbians off the crests of the mountains, and the Serbians could not drive back the Austrians, who were advancing up the Drina to turn the Serbian left. At length, however, the Serbian ammunition began to fail, and the Austrian numbers began to tell. On 6th November the enemy won the summits of the Tser Mountains, and the Serbians, in order to avoid being enveloped, were forced to retreat eastwards. This they did in perfect order.
The Austrians pushed on, and occupied Valjevo on 14th November. While the Serbians retired to the summit of arange south of Valjevo, the invaders pillaged the whole Kolubara valley and their line of march was marked by fire and massacre. Belgrade was abandoned, and on 2nd December the Austrians made a state entry into the undefended capital. Telegrams of congratulation were sent to old Franz Josef, and Vienna was full of rejoicing. The Austrians boldly declared that the campaign was over, that the Serbians were finally defeated, and that the fruits of victory were about to be reaped. So certain of success was the Austrian general that he sent back three of his corps to help his fellow-countrymen, who were now about to begin their attack on the Carpathian passes from the south.
For a whole fortnight the Austrians dallied in Valjevo and on the skirts of the ridges occupied by the enemy. During this period the Serbians were by no means idle. Every available man was brought up, gun positions were prepared, and trenches were dug and strengthened. Best of all, the Western Allies sent them ammunition for big guns and small arms, and these supplies now reached the hard-pressed Serbians, despite the efforts of Turkish and Bulgarian bands to capture them.
Serbia was about to make her last stand. Everything had to be staked on the issue of the coming battle. If the Serbians should be driven back they would be almost certain to lose Kragujevatz,[179]their arsenal and chief industrial centre, and without it they could scarcely continue the struggle. They would also lose Nish, the old capital, now the sojourning place of the government. The Serbians, however, held a very strong position on the Maljen ridge, to the west of the main road leading from Valjevo to Kragujevatz, and were also posted on the still higher Rudnik ridge to the east of this road.
The plan of the enemy was to advance its centre against the Rudnik ridge along the single-line railway which runs up the valley of the Lig, a tributary of the Kolubara. At the same time the right was to move up the head waters of the Kolubara and attack the Maljen ridge, while the left was to swing round ina wide sweep, and thus enclose the Serbian army. By 3rd December the Austrian centre had gained the western part of the Rudnik ridge, and the wings were making good progress.
The critical hour has struck; the fate of Serbia hangs in the balance. Old King Peter rises from a sick-bed and joins his soldiers, to die, if need be, with them. He addresses them in burning words which recall the speech of King Henry before Agincourt[180]and that of Robert Bruce before Bannockburn. He recalls the bitter struggles of their forefathers, recounts the ancient glories of their race, and paints the bright future which waits upon victory. Thus nobly he concludes:—
"Heroes, you have taken two oaths—one to me, your King, and the other to your country. I am an old, broken man, on the edge of the grave,[181]and I release you from your oath to me. From your other oath no one can release you. If you feel you cannot go on, go to your homes, and I pledge my word that after the war, if we come out of it, nothing shall happen to you. But I and my sons stay here."
"Heroes, you have taken two oaths—one to me, your King, and the other to your country. I am an old, broken man, on the edge of the grave,[181]and I release you from your oath to me. From your other oath no one can release you. If you feel you cannot go on, go to your homes, and I pledge my word that after the war, if we come out of it, nothing shall happen to you. But I and my sons stay here."
Every Serbian feels himself uplifted by the noble words of his leader; not a man leaves the ranks; all are ready to do and die with their king. The weary and ragged soldiers pledge their faith anew, and steel their hearts to sweep the cruel hordes of invaders from the soil which they have profaned.
At sunrise on 3rd December the two centre divisions of the Serbian army begin to advance across the bare, sharp ridges, now thinly powdered with snow. Fog hides them from the Austrian battalions which are descending from the plateau which they occupy to attack the Rudnik ridge. The sun shines out and dissipates the fog. Suddenly the Serbian guns, which have been dumb for many days, begin to speak, and the soldiers, fired with new courage, dash forward. So fierce is the onset that the Austrians, unable to deploy, fall into confusion. Panic seizes them, and they fly back a terrified mob to the plateau from which they advanced a few minutes ago full of confidence.
Fresh Austrian troops are hurried up, and for three days the battle rages fiercely. On the afternoon of 5th December the left centre breaks, and crowds of discomfited men stream northward down the Lig valley. The fugitives think only of their own safety; they fling away arms and equipment, and on the mountain roads and in the deep ravines abandon their artillery and baggage. Then the Austrian centre suffers the same fate, and the road to Valjevo is crowded with beaten troops hurrying into safety. There is good news, too, from the Serbian left, where a great victory has been won, and the enemy is in full retreat along the head waters of the Kolubara. By the dawn of the 6th the Austrian centre and right have everywhere given way, and the routed enemy is a mere panic-stricken mob, hot-foot for the frontier.
The Serbians follow up the pursuit with great vigour, and sweep the Austrians over the Drina and the Save with fearful slaughter and the capture of thousands of prisoners and many guns. The Austrian left tries to make a stand, but all to no purpose. It is thrust back to a position already prepared on the crescent of hills to the south of Belgrade. Here it holds out till the 13th, when it, too, is broken, and its remnants strew the streets of Belgrade with rifles and equipment, and stampede wildly over the Danube bridges whipped by the merciless flail of the Serbian guns. A rearguard sacrifices itself in the northern suburbs to cover the retreat, but all is over; and on the 15th old King Peter is on his knees in the cathedral, giving thanks for the great victory vouchsafed to his arms. A few days later, and the Serbians are able to boast that not a single armed Austrian remains on their soil.
The disastrous battle off Coronel took place on 1st November. Ten days later, in silence and secrecy, theInvincibleand theInflexible, the first two battle cruisers built by Britain, left Plymouth, and steamed at full speed across the Atlantic to the West Indies. On board theInvinciblewas Vice-Admiral Sir Doveton Sturdee, who was to take command of the avenging squadron. On his voyage to the Falklands he picked up the three armoured cruisers theCarnarvon, theKent, and theCornwall; also the light cruiserBristol, theGlasgow, now repaired, and theMacedonia, an armed liner. He was thus in command of a very formidable force. Each of his two battle cruisers carried eight 12-inch guns, so mounted that they could be fired on either broadside.
How to get into touch with the German squadron was the problem that Sturdee set himself to solve. It is said that he managed it by means of a remarkable piece of "bluff." While his ships were steaming south he sent off a wireless message ordering theCanopusto proceed to Stanley, where she would be perfectly safe under the new guns which had been sent out to strengthen the forts. This message was picked up by the Germans, as it was meant to be. They believed that it was a trick intended to mislead them as to the safety of theCanopus, and that all the talk about forts and new guns was simple nonsense. But one thing the message did tell them, and that was that theCanopuswas proceeding to Stanley Harbour, where she would have only the remnants of Cradock's beatensquadron to support her. Von Spee thought she would be an easy prey. He therefore resolved to capture her, and while Sturdee's squadron, all unknown to him, was speeding towards the Falkland Islands, he headed for Cape Horn, and steered towards Stanley.
The British squadron arrived in Stanley Harbour on the morning of 7th December, and coaling at once began. Within the inner harbour lay theCanopus,Glasgow, andBristol; in the outer gulf were the battle cruisers and the remaining vessels of the squadron. All were perfectly hidden from an enemy in the open sea.
At 7.30 on the morning of 8th December the look-out on Sapper's Hill reported as follows: "Eight ships sighted about twelve miles off, south-east, all making for Stanley." It was von Spee's squadron descending upon Stanley to smash up the unprotectedCanopusand destroy the wireless station. The German admiral proposed, when that was done, to dash across the Atlantic to the coast of German South-West Africa, and prevent the landing of a force from Cape Town.
Speedily the great good news that von Spee was walking straight into the trap laid for him reached the British warships. Officers were roused from sleep, and the flag-lieutenant of theInvincible, so the story goes, dashed down to the Admiral's cabin clad only in pyjamas. Sturdee was shaving, and he received the information with the utmost calmness. "Well," he said drily, "you had better go and get dressed. We'll see about it later." I hope this story is true, because it recalls the famous incident when Drake was informed that the Spanish Armada was in sight.
Screened by the land, Sturdee waited for the Germans to draw nearer, so as to make victory doubly secure. At about a quarter to nine theKentsteamed down the harbour, and took up a position at the entrance. The advance ships of the enemy came boldly on, anticipating an easy victory against the feeble force which they imagined to be in the harbour. Then they turned broadside on, with the intention of destroying the wireless station. Directed by officers on the hills above the town, theCanopusfrom her moorings opened fire over the narrow neck of land, and five shots in quick succession fell around the German ships, which immediately hoisted their colours and wheeled round to close in with the other three vesselsof their squadron. Soon the British admiral knew that the ships in the offing were theScharnhorst,Gneisenau,Leipzig,Nürnberg, andDresden. He could hardly believe his good luck. He had come out to seek this very squadron, and it had come to find him instead.
A few minutes later the two leading cruisers of the enemy altered their course and made directly for the harbour mouth, where theKentwas ready to engage them. Meanwhile the British battle cruisers were rapidly raising steam by means of oil fuel, and while doing so were sending up dense clouds of smoke with which to shroud themselves. Nearer and nearer came the leading ships of von Spee's squadron, and soon their commanders and crews had the surprise of their lives. They could now see the masts and funnels of the battle cruisers, and they knew for the first time that the British were waiting for them in great strength. Van Spee was well aware that he could not cope with such a force. The British ships were faster, and their guns were heavier and of longer range. He had played into the enemy's hands, and only a miracle could save him. Immediately the ships of his vanguard changed direction and hurried back to their consorts.
It was a beautiful morning. The sun was bright, the sky was clear, and the sea was calm—one of those rare days which come to the foggy, wind-swept islands like angels' visits, few and far between. Leaving theCanopusin harbour, Admiral Sturdee about ten o'clock ordered the chase to begin, and theGlasgow, followed by theKent,Invincible,Cornwall,Inflexible, andCarnarvon, steamed out to sea. The colliers and supply ships of the German squadron at once retreated to the south, and theBristolandMacedoniafollowed them up. The remainder of van Spee's ships turned tail, and at top speed hurried away eastward. Their only hope lay in flight.
The great gray warships tore through the sunlit seas, the white foam streaming from their bows as they furrowed the waves. TheInvincibleand theInflexiblesoon drew ahead, but had to slacken off to enable the slower cruisers to keep up with them. At about eleven o'clock the position of the ships was as shown in the diagram on the next page.
Von Spee now saw that he was being slowly but surely overtaken, and that he could not escape by flight. He therefore detached his three light cruisers, theLeipzig,Nürnberg,andDresden, which made off towards the south, followed by theKent,Cornwall, andGlasgow, while the two British battle cruisers and theCarnarvonsteadily gained on theGneisenauand theScharnhorst. They were soon within striking distance; 15,000 or 16,000 yards of sea separated them from the enemy. Admiral Sturdee however, was in no hurry to engage, and ordered his men to dinner. He even gave them time for a comfortable smoke after their meal. Just after a quarter to one he made this signal: "Open fire and engage the enemy."
The men flew to their stations, and with the utmost eagerness obeyed the short, sharp orders. The ranges were signalled, the big guns were aimed, and suddenly the air quivered with the thunder of their discharge. There was a gleam of fire at their muzzles, followed by dense clouds of smoke, as the shells screamed over the sea. The morning promise of a fine day had gone. The sky became overcast, and the air was thick with a drizzle of rain.
We will first follow the fortunes of the British battle cruisers now engaged in a fierce duel with theGneisenauand theScharnhorst. About two o'clock it was discovered that the Britishvessels were diverging from the enemy, who, seeing this, turned to starboard, in the hope of getting away. At once the British ships turned starboard too, and this brought them again within effective range. The smoke was now impeding the firing, so Admiral Sturdee worked up to top speed, and got on the other side of the enemy, from which position theScharnhorstwas pounded mercilessly. You can picture the scene for yourselves: the roar of the guns, the scream of the shells, the loud crashes as shots went home, the wash of the waves, the whistle of the rising breeze, the grinding of the hydraulic machinery as the turrets swung round, the throb of the engines—all uniting in a chorus of deafening and incessant noise.
TheScharnhorstwas soon in the throes of her last agony. Clouds of smoke rose from her, and spurts of bright flame. Shot after shot struck her, and though she returned the fire, the British vessels were too far away for her shells to do much damage. Her 8.2-inch guns could not cope with the 12-inch monsters of the battle cruisers. At three o'clock Admiral Sturdee, seeing that the end of theScharnhorstwas near, sent out this signal to his ships: "God save the King." By 3.30 the masts and funnels of the enemy had been shot away, and at five minutes past four she listed to port and turned bottom upwards. In a cloud of steam and smoke she disappeared amidst the swirling waters, her propellers still going and her flag still flying. Seven hundred and sixty brave men and their gallant admiral had gone to their doom.
Fire was now concentrated on theGneisenau, and soon she was done for. At half-past five, when her upper works were a total wreck, when one of her turrets had been blown overboard and flames were raging, she ceased firing. Several times her flag had been shot away, but every time it had been replaced. The three British vessels now closed in on her; her engines were smashed to fragments, but with one gun she still fought on. Soon after six o'clock she began to settle down, and Admiral Sturdee signalled to his consorts, "Cease fire." Six hundred of her crew had been killed, and the survivors were now lined up on deck waiting for the end. Then she suddenly heeled over, her stern rose high in the air, and a few moments later she too disappeared. The sea was dotted with men battling for life amidst the waves.
An officer on board theInvinciblethus describes the errand of mercy on which the British were soon engaged:—
"Now came the awful part. TheInflexible,Carnarvon, and ourselves hurried up to where she had disappeared, shown by slightly discoloured water, and on coming up close saw a good amount of wreckage with men clinging to it. Never shall I forget it: they were mostly calling out, and it sounded like a wail to us. We all lowered boats as quickly as possible, and picked up as many as possible; but heaps must have sunk, as the water was 40 degrees and they were all numb. It was awful being on the ship, because when all the boats were away they kept floating past, some swimming, some unconscious, just beneath the water. We lowered people down on bow-lines, and hauled them up the ship's side; some of them were quite dead when they came in. Altogether this ship saved about 115, of which fourteen were dead."
"Now came the awful part. TheInflexible,Carnarvon, and ourselves hurried up to where she had disappeared, shown by slightly discoloured water, and on coming up close saw a good amount of wreckage with men clinging to it. Never shall I forget it: they were mostly calling out, and it sounded like a wail to us. We all lowered boats as quickly as possible, and picked up as many as possible; but heaps must have sunk, as the water was 40 degrees and they were all numb. It was awful being on the ship, because when all the boats were away they kept floating past, some swimming, some unconscious, just beneath the water. We lowered people down on bow-lines, and hauled them up the ship's side; some of them were quite dead when they came in. Altogether this ship saved about 115, of which fourteen were dead."
Meanwhile what had happened to theDresden,Nürnberg, andLeipzig, which were being chased by theGlasgow,Kent, andCornwall? The battle between these light cruisers was more equal than the fight which I have just described. All day the struggle continued. TheKent, which was chasing theNürnberg, got far out of sight of land, and lost touch with her consorts. It was feared that she had been lost, especially as no reply was received to the numberless calls sent out to her. Late in the afternoon of the next day she returned safely to Stanley with her wireless shot away, and showing every mark of fierce combat. Her silk ensign and Jack, presented by the ladies of the county of Kent, had been torn to ribbons.
TheNürnbergcould steam a knot faster than theKent, but the British stokers and engineers worked like heroes. They piled her furnaces high with fuel, and strained her engines to the utmost. When the engineers reported that coal was running short, the captain replied, "Very well, then; have a go at the boats." Accordingly the boats were broken up, the wood was smeared with oil and passed into the furnaces. Shortly afterwards the wooden ladders, doors, and almost everything that would burn followed the boats. She managed to work up to 25 knots—a knot and a half more than her registered speed—and slowly but surely came within range of the enemy.
TheNürnbergwas well fought, and theKentwas hit several times. A bursting shell set fire to some cordite charges, and a flash of flame went down the hoist into the ammunition passage. Sergeant Charles Mayer instantly picked up a charge of cordite and hurled it into safety. He then seized a fire hose, and by flooding the compartment averted all danger. Butfor this heroic action there would have been an explosion, and theKentwould probably have been put out of action, if not destroyed altogether. By about seven o'clock theNürnbergwas in flames, and less than half an hour later she sank, her guns firing to the last. As she disappeared some of her crew waved the German ensign from the quarter-deck.
TheGlasgowand theCornwallcame within range of theLeipzigabout three in the afternoon, and for six hours they engaged her. From time to time she turned and fired a salvo at her pursuers; but though shells fell fast and thick around theGlasgow, there were few casualties, though many narrow escapes. Not till nine o'clock was theLeipzigfinally disposed of. As the darkness of a wet night closed in, she heeled over and went down. The German transports and colliers had been sunk and their crews saved earlier in the day by theBristoland theMacedonia. Of von Spee's squadron, only theDresdenand the armed linerEitel Friedrich[182]remained.
The batteredDresdenhad managed to escape early in the fight, and she was lost sight of for many weeks. Ultimately she was cornered by theKentand theCornwalloff Juan Fernandez[183]on March 18, 1915, and after a five minutes' action was forced to hoist the white flag. When her crew were taken off she was in flames. Finally her magazine exploded, and she sank.
Such was the first decisive naval battle of the war. It was a triumph not only for the officers and men of the British squadron, but also for the Admiralty, which had so skilfully and secretly planned the whole enterprise. The British victory was well-nigh complete; only one warship escaped, and our loss was small. TheInvinciblehad no casualties; theInflexiblehad one man killed. TheKent, which fought the most stubborn engagement, lost four men killed and twelve wounded; while theGlasgowhad nine killed and four wounded. The German loss was terrible. Some 3,000 men must have perished, including von Spee and two of his sons. Let us do honour to those of our foes who sank beneath the waves on that dread day. "The German admiral fought as Cradock had fought; the German sailors died as Cradock's men had died. There can be no higher praise."