Ships Stories

HMS KING GEORGE V

Passing history on. A meeting in Lyness

Earlier this year, on a rainy visit to the Lyness naval cemetery I met with the Head Gardener for the Scottish War Graves Commission, Graham Hobbs. He’d been tending the graves with so many names that I recognized but Malaya and Barham made a strong impression on me. Together, we also looked at the German graves. For the unfortunate – and unarmed – sailors who were coming ashore when their ships were being scuttled. It was June 22^nd 1919. The few guards that were there panicked.

Graham and I both had grandfathers at Jutland. His grandfather was a boy signaller on King George V which he’d joined in November 1915. He’d celebrated his 17^th birthday just nine days before the battle. We both regretted that neither of us had been able to talk with our grandfathers about what they’d experienced. Graham as he was too young, myself because my grandfather had already died in 1935. So for both we did not have that personal connection with the story of Jutland.

So what would Edward’s role have on the day? Particularly when the Equal Speed Charlie London penant was hoisted on Iron Duke? Edward, on the bridge or the flag deck, would have his orders to watch for flag hoists from the ships astern as the Admiral’s messages were passed up the line. He would be focussed particularly on hoists from HMS Ajax, immediately astern and HMS’s Centurion and Erin following Ajax.

With the signal Equal Speed Charlie London Jellicoe, on the bridge of HMS Iron Duke ordered that the Grand Fleet transform its structure from 6 columns of four dreadnoughts to a single battle line steering course Southeast by East, while maintaining the current speed.

To a boy signalman on the flag deck it would have been a most exhilarating time. Nervous with anticipation at the prospect of his first action, the grand spectacle of the Grand Fleet spread out beside and behind. The Boy Signalman would have been kept busy with important jobs to be done, but still keeping his eyes on the ships in company’s yardarms, waiting for orders from the flagship

The second that the flaghoist Equal Speed Charlie London was hoisted on Iron Duke or a relaying ship, young Edward would have immediately repeated it, at the dip, and reported to the Yeoman of Signals.

Edward George Hobbs, a boy signaller on HMS King George V at Jutland (Courtesy of Graham Hobbs, Head Gardener Scotland, Commonwealth Graves Commission)

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HMS LION

The survivors of Q turret

At the start of the run to the south, German gunnery, maybe with the advantage of better visibility and Vice Admiral Sir David Beatty’s ships being silhouetted, was outstanding. Lion was hit within three minutes of Lützow opening fire at 15:48. There were 98 fatalities. Here were the survivors.

The din of battle was such that neither Chatfield, Beatty’s Flag Captain, not Beatty himself knew that the midships’ turret had blown up. Lion nearly met the same fate as the other battle cruisers had it not been for the actions of Major Francis Hervey, posthumously awarded a Victoria Cross (see “The Victoria Cross at Jutland”).

The middle person in the centre row is the great grand-father of the person who posted this photo a few years ago. His name was Edward Haynes. It was his writing at the bottom of the photo. I hope that his great grandson contacts me when he sees this photo.

SMS LÜTZOW

The terrible duty her Captain had to carry out.

“Suddenly the entire ship is roughly shaken. The colossus heaves far over, and everything that is not fixed is upset. The first direct hit! The torpedo pierces the fore part of the ship. Its effects are terrible. Iron, wood, metal, parts of bodies, and smashed ships’ implements are all intermixed, and the electric light, by chance spared, continues to shine upon this sight.

Two decks lower, in the diesel dynamo room, there is still life. That compartment has not been hit, and twenty-seven men, in the prime of life, have been spared, but the chamber is shut off from all others, for the water is rushing into all sections.

They are doomed to death. Several 38-centimetre shells squarely hit their mark, working terrible havoc. The first hit the wireless department. Of the twelve living men who a moment ago were seated before the apparatus, there is nothing more to be seen.

Nothing is left but a smoking heap of ruins. The second shot again pierced the fore part of the ship. The entire forepart of the vessel, as far as the diesel motor room, was past saving.

Another broadside meant for the Lützow fell short, but a torpedo boat close by disappeared, leaving only a few odd pieces of wood and a smashed lifeboat drifting around. It is now half-past 7, and the hostile circle grows ever smaller. The Lützow and the Seydlitz lie with their bows deep in the water; both are badly mauled. The forepart of the Lützow was in flames. Shells burst against the ship’s side in rapid succession.

A terrible sight is presented on board the Lützow, and it needs iron nerves to look upon it coolly. Hundreds have lost their lives, while many have lain for hours in torture, and the fight is not yet over. The bow is now crushed in and is entirely submerged. The four screws are already sticking half out of the water, so that the Lutzow can only make eight to ten knots an hour, as against the normal thirty-two.

The Admiral decides to transfer to the Moltke. He gives orders to turn and get away from the scene of the fight, but the Lutzow has not gone a mile before she receives a broadside of 38-centimetre shells. The entire ship was filled with the poisonous fumes of the shells, and any one who failed to affix his gas mask was doomed to be suffocated.

It was three-quarters of an hour before the lighting installation was restored. Then for the first time could the extent of the damage wrought by the salvo be seen. One of the shells had landed in the sick bay. Here there were only three doctors and fifteen attendants, besides 160 to 180 wounded. Of all those, only four remained alive. These four were hurled into the next compartment by the air pressure; there they lay unconscious.

The Lützow was now a complete wreck. Corpses drifted past. From the bows up to the first 30-centimetere gun turret the ship lay submerged. The other gun turrets were completely disabled, with the guns sticking out in all directions.

On deck lay the bodies of the sailors in their torn uniforms, in the midst of the empty shell cases. From the masts fluttered torn flags, twisted signal lines, and pieces of wire of the wireless installation. Had not the lookout man and the three officers on the commander’s bridge given signs of life, the Lutzow would have truly resembled a ship of the dead.

Below, on the battery deck, there still lay innumerable wounded, but there was no longer a doctor to attend to them. Night came on and hope was entertained of getting away without a further encounter. But at 3 o’clock in the night news of the approach of two British cruisers and five destroyers was received and just at that critical time the fore and middle bulkheads gave way.

Orders were given to carry the wounded to the stern. Then the order rings out: “All hands muster in division order abaft.” A tumult arises on the lower deck, for everybody is now bent on saving his life. It is impossible in that short space of time to bring up all the wounded, for they are scattered everywhere. Eighteen men had the good fortune to be carried up, but all the rest who could not walk or crawl had to be left behind.

The twenty-seven men shut up in the diesel dynamo chamber had heard the order through the speaking tube, for many, mad with anguish, screamed through the tube for help, and it was learned that two of their number lay bound because they had become insane. Inspired by their sense of duty, these sealed-up men had continued to carry on their work in order to provide the ship with light.

The last moments of SMS Lützow, by the French marine artist Albert Victor Eugenie Brenet (1903 – 2005). The torpedo boats, G. 38 and G.39, are standing by. The G.38 will fire four torpedoes to sink Hippper’s former flagship. Apparently a number of men had been so tired that they only woke up as the torpedoes exploded underneath them. They were seen running along her decks.

The torpedo-boats now quickly took off the crew of the Lützow, and those left behind were doomed to death. It was resolved that no piece of the vessel should fall into the enemy’s hands. An order was given and a torpedo cleft the waters. Just then seven men were to be seen running like madmen round the rear deck. Over-fatigued as they were, they had apparently dropped off to sleep and only just awakened.

The Lützow Memorial in the Friedenhof, Wilhemshaven. It’s a beautiful memorial

In a very carefully tended war cemetary.

As the torpedo exploded, the Lützow‘s bow quickly dipped, and the stern rose until she stood on end. Then she heeled over and sank, forming a great whirlpool that carried everything within it into the depths.

When the roll was called it appeared that there were 1,003 survivors of the Lützow; 597 men had perished in the battle.

(Account of the Battle of Jutland by a German Sailor on the Lützow. Source: Source Records of the Great War, Vol. IV, ed. Charles F. Horne, National Alumni 1923)

HMS MALAYA

One of the four Queen Elizabeth class battleships at Jutland serving under the command of Vice Admiral Sir David Beatty, the Malaya was heavily damaged at the battle but « gave as good as she got ».

Silhouettes of the five powerful 15inch gunned Queen Elizabeth class battleships, four of which fought at Jutland (private collection)

The commemorative headstone to Malaya’s fallen at Jutland at Lyness naval cemetary (private collection)

Not all of Malaya’s dead were buried on land. In fact, one of the most poignant photos that I have of Jutland is the burial at sea from Malaya after a signal had been sent Jellicoe, acknowledged and agreed to:

“5th Battle Sqn to Jellicoe – Permission for Barham & Malaya to commit some KIA to the deep. Reply: Approved”.

Burial at sea of Malaya’s fallen at Jutland (private collection)

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Imperial War Museum HMS Malaya community :
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HMS MARLBOROUGH

The only British dreadnought hit by a torpedo at Jutland

Two men died on HMS Marlborough when she was struck by a torpedo. But there were others injured, some for whom Marlborough the records seem to have been lost. One such man was a stoker, Lawrence Lonsdale. He’d been on board when Marlborough went to Odessa to rescue the Russian Royal Family and was frequently in hospital in Portsmouth, a result of the physical damage from the pressure wave of the explosion. In 1948 he died of a blood clot on the brain. If someone can help with some research I will pass it on to his grandson.

Marlborough’s after action report read:

“6:54 p.m. Marlborough was hit by a torped in Diesel engine room, shock was sufficient to shake off switches on lower power board some fuzes in telephone circuits…these were very quickly replaced and all control instruments were found to be in step, two men in Diesel room were killed”

Marlborough started to list quite seriously but not so badly that she could not keep on firing. Later in the night, however, she was holding the fleet back and was escorted back. Her crew was take off in the early hours as it was, at one point, feared that she might capsize.

SOME MORE STORIES :
Imperial War Museum HMS Marlborough community :
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HMNZS NEW ZEALAND

In Aukland, New Zealand, in the Develport Naval Museum there is a strangely shaped large chunk of grey steel. It was a part of HMNZS New Zealand’s X turret after she’d been hit by a German shell at Jutland.

“…there was a terrific explosion alongside us and the whole place became filled with dense yellow smoke. I shipped smoke pads, goggles and everything we are supplied with and slipped down into the turret expecting every moment the magazine would go up. Nothing happened… There was absolutely no panic and as soon as the smoke cleared, we found everything worked properly and went on firing” (Lieutenant Boyle).

Moments later, three men lifted and moved the 1,064 lbs (483kg) slab of armour to free the rollers on which the turret turned.

New Zealand’s gunnery record at Jutland, however, was not that impressive. She’d expended a total of 420 heavy caliber rounds with one, possibly four hits: three on Seydlitz and one on the pre-dreadnought SMS Schleswig-Holstein.

HMNZS New Zealand’s powerful BL 12 Mk X guns.

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Imperial War Museum HMS New Zealand community :
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HMS NOMAD

The ones who survived

At 16:40, the three destroyers of the first group (Bingham on the Nestor, Jack Mocatta on the Nicator and Paul Whitfield on the Nomad turned and raced back north at a fast 35 knots to head into a kind of no-man’s-land towards the German battle-cruiser line. Around 16 :45 Nomad was badly hit, it’s thought from heavy fire from SMS Wiesbaden who herself only had hours left to live. Badly listing, Whitfield took the Nomad around behing HMS Princess Royal. He was able to get a couple of torpedoes off but fearing sinking, he weighed down the ship’s confidential documents and threw them over.

HMS Nomad

His ship was marooned right in the path of the German fleet and took heavy fire from around 3,000 yards. Whitfield was badly wounded as were seven ratings. There was nothing left to do but abandon ship. They were lucky and were picked up by a German ship and spent the rest of the war in a POW camp. They would have died in the water very quickly had it not been for this rescue.

Captured crew of the Nomad. Charlie Benson (second on the left) and Alfred. Edward Amey (far right) (Courtesy John Keegan, whose great, great, great… !… uncle was Charlie Benson). OK

Some years ago I saw a letter from someone called Jill in New Jersey. I hope the photo above may help her. I hope someone will see this and pass it along.

“My great-grandfather was on the HMS Nomad when it was sunk, waited in the water for thirteen hours, then was taken as a prisoner of war in Brandenburg, Germany… Anyone know where I could find a picture or a list of P.O.W.s from the HMS Nomad? ”

She attached one of his letters. I think his name was Hurley.

SOME MORE STORIES :
Imperial War Museum HMS Nomad community :
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HMS NOTTINGHAM

Surviving Jutland only to be sunk at the next German Fleet sortie.

Michael Joseph Hanley was was born into a family that saw four of its members serve in the 1914-1918 conflict. The family was luckier than most. All returned alive. In the case of Michael he served as a Stoker First Class on HMS Nottingham and was at Jutland in Vice Admiral Sir David Beatty’s forces.

The ship escaped major damage during the battle but a couple of months later the Light Cruiser was torpedoed and sunk in the North Sea by German submarine U-52 on August 19th 2016 with the loss of 40 sailors. It was the German fleet’s first sortie after Jutland during which, again, Scheer managed to get his fleet away before a main battle action could take place. HMS Nottingham, and earlier HMS Falmouth, were both torpedoed. Nottingham was hit by three torpedoes at 18:00, Falmouth by two from the U-63 at 16:52.

HMS Penn and Oracle came to Nottingham‘s aid rescuing twenty-one officers and 357 men. Hanley eventually left the RN in 1919 but remained on reserve until 1930. He passed away at the age of 66 in May 1956.

(Courtesy of Michael Hanley, Clearwater, Florida USA)

 

HMS ONSLAUGHT

The sub who brought Onslaught back to safety

Harry Kemmis was a 19 year old Sub-Lieutenant on HMS Onslaught. After their successful attack on the SMS Pommern, the bridge was hit by a shell, the commander Arthur Onslow was killed and the steering etc. disabled. As the most senior remaining officer, Harry Kemmis requested permission to withdraw and successfully brought the disabled ship back to Rosyth.

For many years the Royal Ensign from the Onslaught hung above the stairs of his home in Scotland. The family still have some momentos from the ship.

(Kind courtesy of Harry Kemmis’s grandson, Edward Kemmis-Matterson)

 

 

HMS QUEEN MARY

The story of one man giving his life so another could live

Algernon William Percy, known as Bobby, joined the Royal Naval Reserve as a sub-lieutenant on the outbreak of war at the age of 29. He had wanted to join the army, given his eight years’ service with a Militia battalion in the Northumberland Fusiliers, from which he retired with the rank of lieutenant in 1910. But his poor health would not stand up to the rigours of front line military duty and his position in the Northumberland Fusiliers had largely been due to his family’s association with the regiment: his uncle was the 7th Duke of Northumberland, and his father, Lord Algernon Percy, was Lieutenant-Colonel commanding the battalion. Bobby was educated at his parents’s home, Guy’s Cliffe, Warwickshire because his health was too delicate to allow him so be sent away to boarding school. His first formal education came when he went up to Christ Church in 1904, following in the footsteps of many relations over the years.

As he was nearly 20 when he went to Oxford, he remained there for only one year. After that, he was a Justice of the Peace and a County Councillor in Warwickshire – where he also served on the Prison Visiting Committee and the Hospitals Committee. Outside of officialdom, he was well known and popular on the hunting field.

When he secured a place in the Royal Naval Reserve, he was delighted – all the more so to be aboard a vessel at Spithead by 24th September 1914. He wrote to his uncle, the Duke, “I am looking forward to it very much…it is a thoroughly well thought out scheme so I don’t think I was wrong in taking it as I couldn’t have got anything else I could have managed half so well, and I couldn’t sit at home doing nothing.” He added that he felt very lucky, and pleased that his parents were quite willing for him to go. The family did not have a recent tradition of serving at sea: Bobby’s father, like so many Percies, had served in the Grenadier Guards and his great uncle (Lord Henry Percy, also a member of the Travellers Club) had won a Victoria Cross with the same regiment at the Battle of Inkerman in 1854. However, Bobby’s great-grandfather’s generation included three admirals: Jocelyn and William Percy had served as junior officers in the Napoleonic wars – as had their cousin, the 4th Duke of Northumberland, who eventually became First Lord of the Admiralty and president of the RNLI. As a cabinet minister in the 1850s, the 4^th Duke played a part in accelerating the introduction of steam power to the Royal Navy.

Bobby’s first ship was the Royal Yacht Squadron’s Catania, a fabulously luxurious steam yacht belonging to the Duke of Sutherland which had recently been requisitioned by the Admiralty for minesweeping and U-Boat patrol in the Solent. He described it as “most comfortable…but by no manner of means a hazardous expedition.” That said, he was quick to tell his uncle that they had some guns (two 6-pounders) and lots of rifles and revolvers. But it was unlikely they would see serious action.

In January 1915 Bobby transferred to HMS Queen Mary. It was a prime posting for an aspiring naval officer, being one of the most modern ships in the service. Completed in 1913, she was a battlecruiser (i.e. fast and lightly armoured), and therefore designed specifically for offensive action. Her eight 13.5 inch guns had already come in to play at the Battle of Heligoland Bight on 28th August 1914. Bobby’s career aboard Queen Mary was interrupted by illness. He had to be hospitalized, and then spent considerable time on sick leave. It wasn’t until Monday 29th May 1916 that he was able to rejoin his ship – two days before the Battle of Jutland. Unfortunately, in an extraordinarily intensive action during the afternoon of Wednesday 31st May, the British battlecruisers bore the brunt of German firepower. Whereas less than 10% of British ships present at Jutland sunk, a third of the battlecruisers (three out of nine) were lost. Their relatively light armour, particularly on deck and near the gun turrets, was their undoing. Terrifyingly, all three exploded – their magazines hit – and sank in seconds, killing a total of over 3,300 men. Less than one per cent of the three battlecruisers’ collective crews lived.

Bobby actually survived the blowing up of HMS Queen Mary. After the initial explosion, which broke the ship in two, he found himself unhurt in the water; somehow, he had managed to get hold of a life jacket. A short time after, there was a second explosion which shook the aft end of the ship as it began to roll over and sink. He was wounded slightly in the forehead by a flying splinter – but, according to a surviving officer who was with him, he was “quite alright.” A destroyer soon appeared to pick them up, but about fifteen swimmers, including Bobby, were missed. The survivor, who wrote to Bobby’s father from a German prisoner of war camp a few weeks after the action, said that when they had all become cold and affected by the oil fumes all around them, Bobby offered him his life jacket, “for which action I shall never forget him, although I had only known him a few days.” Some time afterwards a German destroyer picked the man up, semiconscious. Only one able seaman was with him; the captain of the destroyer could see no more survivors and Bobby was never seen alive again. Just 18 of Queen Mary‘s crew of 1,264 lived.

A few weeks later, Bobby’s body was washed up with many others near Fredrikstad in Norway. An English lady living nearby attended a military funeral on 28th June:

“Another English lady and myself were the only ones of their own present, and as we stood by the graves we felt we were representing the mothers and wives of the brave men whose bodies we committed to the dust….

All the coffins were covered with the most beautiful wreaths and flowers brought by all kinds of people. Wasn’t it kind? All the bodies had lifebelts on but no discs with their names…. One officer had a ring with the initials A.W.P. and a crest engraved on his gold cuff buttons…. How I wished their friends could have known that the dear remains were laid carefully and kindly in consecrated soil, it would be a little comfort to their sore hearts.”

By a fortunate coincidence the author of that letter’s niece lived in Northumberland, and so Lady Algernon Percy discovered the details of her son’s burial.

A senior naval officer wrote:

“He had such a gallant big heart, always battling against delicate health and never flinching from anything because of it.”

Another wrote:

“His character was one of transparent truthfulness and honesty; he honestly was one of those not very common men who are absolutely incapable of a dishonourable action, and thus did us all no end of good by simply living with us.”

And a friend,

“He was the soul of honour and chivalry”

(Courtesy of Algernon Percy)

The horrifying newspaper list of all those fallen, HMS Queen Mary

A lucky Escape

Frederick John Chapman Cox was serving on HMS Queen Mary in early 1916. Six weeks before the battle he was transferred to HMS Princess Royal as a shipwright. There, while he was leading a damage control party on the upper deck, he witnessed his old ship and all his old shipmates blown up.

(Courtesy of Graham Chadwick. Frederick John Chapman Cox was his maternal grandfather)

Never knowing his father

Charles Albert Birks was the only child of Annie Elizabeth Birks. He was born on 8th April 1894 in Hull and was living at 91 Arundell Street, Hull. At the age of 16, the 1911 census shows he was a dock worker in Hull.

Aged nineteen, Charles joined the Navy.On 29th August 1913, beginning his naval career at Victory ll, service number SS / 114538 . He then served aboard HMS Vindictive from January to July 1914. It was during this service aboard Vindictive he married Ruth Gurnell in the April of 1914 and sent a post card around this time to Ruth depicting an image and poem called “The Sailors Grave”. On the back he wrote “Dear Ruth, I hope this will never happen to me, keep this one will you”. This poignant message to his new wife, unbeknown to her, held such meaning. His career then took him back to Victory ll for a month and then onto HMS Drake 1st Aug 1914 – 7th April 1915 During this service, Charles spent 10 days in the cells. As part of his punishment, he served aboard SS Alsatian, as there is a letter he sent to his wife Ruth on 25th December 1914. Charles was promoted to Stoker 1st Class on 4th April 1915. He then spent April to October 1915 back at Victory ll.

Charles Albert Birks, HMS Queen Mary

The day after Charles began his service on Queen Mary, his son, James Charles, was born 27th October 1915. During February 1916, Charles had a short leave period home. This was his only time with his new born son. He had travelled home on leave with a close friend, Stoker 1st class Jack Wilson, returning back to his duties at the beginning of March 1916. Charles Albert Birks was killed in action, age 22 on May 31^st at Jutland.

(With kind permission of Michael Birks)

A seaman’s grave

Able Seaman Frederick Richard Sell was born in Bexleyheath on the 19th July 1894, one of nine children. He attended Foster’s School and when he started on 21st January 1901, the family were living at 1 Danson Cottages,

His parents had married at the end of 1886, his mother Minnee Jane (née Smith) born in Wilmington and his father, Richard, born in Reading. Richard was a domestic gardener and the family moved frequently with his work, the children being born around the borough: Amelia Temple born (1887, Crayford), Florence Emily A (1889, Bexleyheath), Alfred Harry (1891, Lee), Frederick Richard (19 July 1894, Bexleyheath), Ernest George (1st May 1898, Bexley), Olive Minnie (1901, Welling), Edith Mary (1903, Welling), Charles Victor (1906, Bexleyheath) and William Patrick (1908, Bexleyheath). The family’s Welling homes included Danson Lane and 3 High Street, Welling.

By 1911 Frederick had moved with his family to 7 Medina Terrace, Godstone Road, Whyleleafe. He was 17 years old and employed as a domestic post boy. His sisters Amelia and Florence had by then left home (Florence had married in 1909). and brother Alfred was living at 12 High Street, Welling, with his grand-father Isaac Smith.

Frederick joined the Royal Navy and by 1916 was an Able Seaman, service number J15717 serving aboard HMS Queen Mary.

Frederick died at sea aged 22 and his body was not recovered. In 1991 the wreck of the ship was discovered. The wreck site is now a designated protected place under the Protection of Military Remains Act 1986. No one can explore or remove items from the wreck although the propellers made of phosphor bronze may have been removed before 1991.

Frederick is remembered at the Portsmouth Naval Memorial and on the Welling War Memorial. Frederick’s death was notified to his mother who was then living at 1 Home Cottages, Godstone Road, Kenley, Surrey, near to where the Family had lived in 1911.

In a 1920 Jenkins local directory, the father, Richard is listed as living back in Welling – at 12 High Street. In 1921, Alfred Harry married Lily Ashdown. Their first child born in 1922 was named Frederick, probably in memory of his younger brother.

The ones who could never get out. The stokers.

Enos George Farr married Ada Saigeman in 1912. Together they had one child named after Enos’s father. Enos was a stoker on the Queen Mary and after his death, even though Ada married again twice, it was always Enos whom she mourned for all her life.

Enos George Farr (Queen Mary) and Ada Saigeman on their wedding day, 1912.

He is always remembered on the memorial at Bear Wood in Wokingham, Berkshire.

Times were hard and their son, “Tids”, ended up on the training ship Arethusa. Enos George Snr. was a Stoker on Queen Mary so was trapped deep inside the ship.

(Courtesy of Ann Churchett, grand daughter of Ada Saigeman)

Joseph Baker (286450) was another one trapped inside the deep hull of the Queen. The story of this Acting Chief Stoker will soon be told by his grandson who is coming over from Australia for the centenary and will be Portsmouth for the commemorations.

(Courtesy of Teresa Walker, grand daughter of Joseph Baker)

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Imperial War Museum HMS Queen Mary community :
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HMS SPITFIRE

5.00 pm 31st May 1916

‘The hours of waiting seemed interminable. Our thoughts went home to those in happy ignorance of the coming fight. But there were the last minute preparations to make and the battle flags to hoist, which gave us a glorious thrill.’

The crew of HMS Spitfire of the 4th Destroyer Flotilla, Grand Fleet had been waiting months, years even, for ‘Them’ to come ‘Out’. They had been based at Scapa Flow since February 1915, waiting, and patrolling. Patrolling the Hoxa Sound, the Pentland Firth, escorting ships to Cromarty or Rosyth, screening the Battle Fleet out on PZ exercises, boarding merchant ships or fruitlessly searching for submarines and minelayers.

Spitfire on patrol, 1915

And occasionally proceeding at speed south toward Heligoland, or East for the Skaggerak on a ‘stunt’, hoping that there really was ‘something doing’ this time. A personal diary entry for April 1915 notes a busy morning watch with plenty of submarine screening etc.

« Met the Battlefleet at 4.00 am. We are steaming S50°E 15 knots which is straight for the Skaggerak. Nothing much happened all day. We all thought we might see something this time; so one can imagine how sick we were when at 6.0pm we all turned round ».[2]

The Spitfire officers would spend the long winter nights ship- visiting, dressing up to entertain, or quietly playing Bridge and Vingt John. In March 1915 they had purchased a monkey for the ship, arguing about where it would sleep (Captain’s cabin, eventually). In September a ping-pong tournament was organised and Spitfire lost to a combined Shark / Acasta team. Though very often the weather prevented any socialising so there was time to write a lot of letters, and wait for the mail.

Officers’ picnic – 30th May 1916

During the long summer days of 1915 officers of the Flotilla had taken to picnicking ashore, and Tuesday 30th May 1916 was no different – a picnic was arranged that day and officers from the Spitfire, Shark, Sparrowhawk, Ardent, Fortune & Acasta cooked up tea on a stony beach. But by that evening, at short notice, they were steaming out of a sunset, Eastward with the Battle Fleet; the Acasta and Shark detached to screen the three Battlecruisers, Spitfire and the rest of the 4th Flotilla screening the port wing of the Battle Fleet.

Through the night and into the next day, still Eastward and a little South, learning during the afternoon that the Battlecruiser Fleet were in action; gradually increasing speed towards the south, making them more certain that they should at last be in action.

« Now we heard the sound of guns, and flashes on the horizon. » [1]

They were ordered to get ahead of the deploying Battle Fleet as they were on the Fleet’s disengaged side. The wakes of so many vessels going at full speed close beside each other caused the most curious breakers.

These were occasionally mistaken for the signs of submarines, and a good deal of firing took place away behind them. Presently, the destroyer Acasta came hurtling right across the track of the Fleet. She was flying ‘not under control’ signals.

« Her crew were all cheering hard, and we cheered back, and [we] cheered again as we saw the bow and stern of a big ship sticking up out of the water. But our cheers ceased suddenly as we read the name Invincible on the stern portion ». [1]

Torpedo practice – 1915

They were now ahead of the Battle Fleet awaiting orders, knowing that they may be ordered to deliver, or repel a torpedo attack at any moment. Shot was falling within sight though not reaching them and all the while watching, and waiting. Visibility was worsening due to smoke from gunfire, mist and enemy smokescreens. And by dusk they could hear only sporadic salvos, ahead and behind them.

Windy Corner, Jutland – WL Wyllie

At 9.30pm they were forming up 5 miles astern of the Battle Fleet. They did not know the outcome of the battle, where the enemy were or even where most of their ships were – only that they should form 5 miles astern of the Battle Fleet. By 10.00pm they were settled in line ahead – Tipperary leading, Spitfire, Sparrowhawk, Garland and Contest of the 1st Division following.

It was a very dark night as there was no moon, and the sky was overcast and the atmosphere hazy.[3]

They were very nervous of running into their own ships by mistake and had been ordered to keep a sharp lookout for the enemy. In the darkness they could make out ships closing them from astern, Tipperary made the challenge; they were British. Shortly before midnight they saw again the dark shape of a line of ships on their starboard quarter, occasional glare in their funnel smoke. Some thought they were friends, but they could just as well be the enemy, so 21” torpedo tube and 4” gun were kept trained on them. Maybe it reminded them of a patrol in early 1915 where it was moonlight. The St Vincent came out – we could have got in a lovely shot with our mouldies, about 8000 yds – she never saw us till we challenged her.

But here visibility was under 1000 yards and when the dark outlines were nearly abeam, at a range of between 500 and 700 yards Tipperary again made the challenge…

The reply was all three ships switching on a blaze of searchlights. The majority of these lights were trained on the Tipperary and only a few stray beams lit on us and on our next astern. Then these lights went out, and after an extraordinarily short pause were switched on again, and at the same moment a regular rain of shell was concentrated on our unfortunate leader, and in less than a minute she was hit and badly on fire forward. [2]

« At the same moment we fired our 2 torpedoes and saw one of them hit. But I saw the most infernal storm of shells hitting the water just ahead of us, and all around the Tipperary ». [1]

« [We] had been hit several times. The after guns’ crew and the torpedo party were suffering the most casualties, but the latter luckily not until after they had fired our second torpedo, from the foremost tube ». [2]

« Hours and years of practice took over and immediately both torpedoes were fired the Spitfire turned away, helm put hard-a-starboard, increasing to full speed and away out of it. It was at that moment they were hit amidships by a full salvo, and seemed to disappear, one great sheet of flame. But they got safely away and with two torpedoes gone the question was, at whom to fire the spare torpedo? That was soon solved as soon as we resumed our course, we saw Tipperary behind us, a dreadful, burning torch. She was stopped and being fired at under the concentration of the enemy’s searchlights. So back we went to attack the ships attacking her ». [1]

But they could not load the spare torpedo due to damage sustained to the loading gear; the Torpedo Gunner was injured and the majority of the torpedo ratings were either injured or killed. The Captain decided to go to the assistance of the Tipperary and, if necessary, carry on action with their guns. As they got near he felt maddened at seeing their leader disabled and being so fiercely attacked. He gave what seemed the hopeless order to fire at searchlights, which, as if at target practice, winked, and went out.

« We closed the Tipperary, now a mass of burning wreckage and looking a very sad sight indeed. At a distance her bridge, wheel-house and chart-house appeared to be one sheet of flame, giving one the impression of a burning house, and so bright was the light from this part that it seemed to obliterate one’s vision of the remainder of the ship and of the sea round about, except that part close to her which was all lit up, reflecting the flames ». [2]

« But the Germans were still very close, and even without searchlights the Spitfire was visible. To the horror of the Captain a large German ship had altered course to ram them. He had a choice – either turn to port onto a similar course and suffer the fate of the Tipperary – continue on the same course and be cut in two – or turn to starboard towards them and trust to luck. He chose this last, and they turned at high speed, but, oh! how slowly we seemed to come round. Everything was lit up by the burning Tipperary. As the enemy loomed nearer and nearer it seemed impossible that we could get clear… [on] the bridge we were blinded by the flashes of our fo’c’sle gun ». [1]

and with a ghastly, fearful crash the two ships met port bow to port bow. In the glare of searchlight men were hurled across the deck and one man from the fo’c’sle gun’s crew was lost overboard. The ship rolled like she had never rolled before and the sides of the two vessels bumped and ground together, ripping plate and scuttle. When they were bridge to bridge the German fired her forward main armament probably 11”, point blank at us. The shell passed over my head and through the bridge. The blast was terrific [3] and reduced the bridge to a mass of tangled wreckage. The projectiles themselves did not detonate, but as they passed through they decapitated one man, and cut another in two, either side of the Captain. The Captain himself was thrown by the blast 24 feet onto the upper deck, face down with his head over the side, unconscious. The rest of the bridge personnel were killed or wounded by concussion.

The huge German ship « surged down our port side, clearing everything before her; the boats came crashing down and even the davits were torn out of their sockets, and all the time she was firing her guns just over our heads ». [2] But none of the shells seemed to hit. And all the while the German vessel kept the Spitfire illuminated until finally clearing her astern. Spitfire was left afloat, but drifting in a somewhat pitiful condition.

« …fires started breaking out forward, and to make matters worse all the lights were short- circuited, so that anyone going up to the bridge received strong electric shocks. Moreover, all the electric bells in the ship were ringing, which made things feel rather creepy ». [2]

The Captain could not be found, so the 1st Lieutenant took command. His two concerns were to regain control of the ship and put out fires that might draw unwanted attention.

The moment of collision. The 935 ton Spitfire rams into the 20,000 ton SMS Nassau.

It was extraordinary the way fire spread, burning strongly in places where one thought there was hardly anything inflammable, such as on the fore-bridge and the decks, but flags, signal halliards, and the coco-nut matting on the deck all caught fire, and sparks from the latter were flying about everywhere. [2]

A large-calibre shell had grazed the deck and the bottom of the second funnel. A second fire was spouting from the hole and stokers beneath in the foremost boiler-room had to don gasmasks. Many of the fire hoses were cut by splinters and useless so it took time to get these fires under control.

One got rather a nasty shock by walking one moment on a small fountain from the fire main and the next minute stepping on something smouldering or burning. [2]

An inspection of the engine-room and boiler-rooms found that three of the four boilers were functioning and that the ship was capable of 6 knots. And as the bridge had been destroyed a voice- pipe was rigged to the engine-room from the compass aft, and for about half an hour they steered by that. They had noted their course of NW shortly before the collision, however, they had no Coxswain and the two Quartermasters were injured, one in the right hand, one the left; but they took charge of the wheel – one ‘Navy Pattern Quartermaster’ as Rudyard Kipling later put it.

The Captain, Sub, Gunner, Coxswain and Chief Stoker were all missing – the latter was found with a broken jaw under the Downton pump, and the Coxswain, delirious, under the remains of his wheel. He was got out, but an Able Seaman also on the bridge was trapped and had to have his leg amputated, in the dark, with no anaesthetic.

The Chief Stoker found the semi-conscious Captain, lifting and moving him to the midship gun. Still dazed, the Captain angrily demanded to know why they weren’t firing whilst the Sub and Gunner also reappeared, fortunately not badly injured. The majority of the crew were now aft having misunderstood the order ‘connect up aft’ and saw on their starboard quarter, a few hundred yards away what appeared to be a German battlecruiser, on fire, steering as if to cut them in two, and we thought we were done for; I believe the majority of us lay down and waited for the crash. But no crash came. To our intense relief she missed our stern by a few feet, but so close was she to us that it seemed that we were actually lying under her guns, which were trained out on her starboard beam. She tore past us with a roar, rather like a motor roaring up hill on low gear, and the very crackling and heat of the flames could be heard and felt. She was a mass of fire from foremast to mainmast, on deck and between decks. Flames were issuing out of her from every corner…[2]

With the ship now under control and the majority of the crew accounted for a ‘council of war’ was held. The breaking dawn was about to show in greater detail the extent of the damage:

The damage on the Spitfire was extensive

The main concern was the damage to the bow – a huge, lengthways gap of about 60 feet. Attempts were made to shore this with whatever was to hand but any shoring was washed away time and time again. Mess, shell and storerooms forward were flooded or unreachable causing concern bulkheads would not hold. All three 4” guns however were found to be undamaged and crews found for them. And they were finally able to load the spare torpedo.

With the galley being undamaged they had some food, a cup of cocoa and a tot of rum was served to the men which cheered them up no end.

« I shall never forget that early morning cup of cocoa. We officers all muffled up, grimed and hollow-eyed, were seated on the ammunition sacks, sheltered by what remained of the canvas protection to the steering-wheel… »[1]

Captain Trelawny (right) drinking hot cocoa the morning after

They found their Union Jack amongst the wreckage – the White Ensign with its shrapnel holes, was still flying. After a grisly search they then buried their dead; with all hands again aft the Captain read the funeral service. The colours under which they had fought were half- masted, and we lowered their bodies as reverently as we could into the deep; there was a big sea running. Then we turned to and cleared up the ship. [2]

« Another concern was their being able to reply to any challenge as radio, searchlight, mast and flags had all been blown away. They cut up remaining flags to denote who they were and flew them at an improvised mast. For night, they had recourse to an electric torch. Navigation was similarly difficult – a torn piece of a chart was found and a book-case batten used as a ruler as (my) chart and navigating notebook were lost, so that I was not certain of our position. For the North Sea is a large place, although one always pictures it to oneself as being so small ». [3]

The original intention was to make for Harwich; but as wind and sea rose they were forced gradually northwards. They took position and directions from a Norwegian merchant ship, following its wake for a time as they assumed that would lead them towards the English coast; but again the weather edged them northward as they attempted to protect their damaged bow. The wind still increased to a gale and at 1.00 am it was decided there was little choice but to fire distress signals. They got the box of ‘fireworks’ up and sat on them, unable to quite bring themselves to use them. But with dawn breaking for a second time, as if, it seemed to them, by a miracle, the wind moderated and the sea became smooth finally enabling them to make 10 knots. After meeting some minesweepers they made landfall about 20 miles from the Tyne, and refusing to take a tug – the two Quartermasters still at their posts after 36 hours, guided the ship between the piers at about noon 2nd June.

Spitfire arrives back near the Tyne

11.0 pm 31st May 1916

« The course laid down for our Flotilla was to meet with the heaviest part of the German line: our four leading destroyers were shortly to engage not only with cruisers but with dreadnoughts. But nobody knew. » [1]

Lt Cdr CWE Trelawney [1] Lt AP Bush[2]_Sub Lt Wiggins[3]

(The account of HMS Spitfire at Jutland is courtesy of Alan Bush, grandson of Lt. Athelstan P Bush)

SOME MORE STORIES :
Imperial War Museum HMS Spitfire community :
https://livesofthefirstworldwar.org/community/2578

HMS SHARK

xxxxx

(With thanks to Max Fletcher)

HMS SUPERB

Her white Ensign helps keep her story alive

The Royal Hospital School has stepped in to help the Jutland Centenary Initiative by loaning the white ensign from HMS Superb which was at Jutland at the Danish Sea War Museum in Thyborøn.

The school where Admiral Jellicoe laid the foundation stone in 1927, lost an astonishing 101 alumni during the battle.

SOME MORE STORIES :
Imperial War Museum HMS Superb community :
https://livesofthefirstworldwar.org/community/2926

HMS SOUTHAMPTON

The ship that saved the battle-cruisers

At 16:48 Commodore “Barge” Goodenough sent a stunning signal back to his commander, Vice Admiral Sir David Beatty.

Commodore Goodenough (private collection)

Scouting ahead of the 1^st and 2^nd battle cruiser Squadrons, Goodenough had just spotted sixteen dreadnoughts of the High Seas Fleet sailing north preparing to spring the trap on Beatty who had been lured south towards Hipper.

“Urgent. Priority. Course of Enemy’s battlefleet, N., single line-ahead. Composition of van Kaiser class. Bearing of centre, E. Destroyers on both wings and ahead. Enemy’s Battle Cruisers joining battlefleet from Northward. My position Lat. 56° 29′ N., Long. 6° 14′ E”.

HMS Southampton (Public Domain)

The vital signal warned Beatty and now he was able to turn the trap around and bring Scheer to Jellicoe’s guns instead. The effect of the signal was also stunning to Beatty who, like Jellicoe, did not expect (and had been told not to expect) the main German battle Fleet.

“What am I to think of OD [Operations Division] when I get that telegram and in three hours’ time meet the whole of the German High Seas Fleet well out at sea?”

A Royal Hospital School student at Jutland 

Petty Albert William Garland Symonds was the fifth of seven children born to William and Emily Symonds on July 2, 1888. He was educated at the Royal Hospital School, Greenwich, and served 25 years in the Royal Navy, retiring as a Chief Writer. I have worked very closely and with great pleasure with the staff and students of the new Royal Hospital School to commemorate their special link to Jutland. The school lost 101 of their former pupils at the battle.

When Albert got back to Rosyth on the evening of June 2nd, he wrote up his experience and memories of the battle. What he wrote is below.

Foreword

I am writing this at 6 PM on the evening of Friday June 2nd 1916. The ship is at Rosyth and we reached this base at 2 PM today having left it at 9 PM on Tuesday 30th May. In the interval a Naval action of some magnitude has taken place.

HMS Southampton played her part in it and it has been an honourable if somewhat trying part which we have played. It is of course inevitable that one ship, not to mention one individual like myself can form but an indifferent opinion of the complete results and actions of a ‘show’ such as this last one. But it so happened that circumstances dictated that this ship should see as much of the action, if not more than any other ship. Also my position in the ship as a Control Officer of the After Control, only became a busy one under two circumstances.

(1)  If the Lieut. (G) is killed

(2)  If we should become engaged both sides at once

Neither of these incidents took place, so that I had time to take notes and observe times etc. I have judged it best to follow generally the form of a diary then I can distinguish easily between what I heard and what I saw. (ALL TIMES ARE G.M.T.)

THE ACCOUNT

On the afternoon of Tuesday the 30th May we were lying at our base (Rosyth) when the signal came through at about 6 PM “Flag Lion to B.C.F. (Battle Cruiser Fleet) and 5th B.S.(Battle Squadron) – raise steam and report when ready to proceed”

At 9 PM we weighed and proceeded, no one in this ship knowing at the time the object of the operation. It does not in fact appear that we had great expectations of seeing them as we cruised East all Wednesday forenoon at no very high speed. By noon we had steam for “full speed” at 1⁄2 hours’ notice but as we were well over towards the Danish coast, this order partook more of the nature of routine than of anything else. The course of the Fleet was approx. East and the L.C. (Light Cruiser) screen was spread 1st L.C.S. (Light Cruiser Squadron) – 3rd – 2nd L.C.S. (ourselves) from North to South.

At 2.23 PM “Galatea” sighted two enemy Light Cruisers and much smoke bearing East. At 2.56 PM they reported the German B.C. Fleet. We held on our Easterly course until 3.55 PM the B.C. came into line, steering South with the “Lion” leading and they at once opened fire on the German B. C. Fleet We were on the “Lion’s” starboard bow and on our port beam was a number of T.B.D’s. (Torpedo Boat Destroyers) and the “Champion” (Light Cruiser). As soon as we opened fire (and by “we” I mean our B.C.) the Germans opened fire as well, if not before. It must be realized that whilst our own B.C. were only a mile or so from us the Germans were about 20,000 yards away and against a very dark background, whilst we were silhouetted against the Western sky. The tactical disadvantage was very great, as it was extremely difficult for our B.C. to see the German B.C. It was of course still harder for us to see the Germans, in fact all that we ever saw of the enemy during the first period of the action was a series of flashes on the horizon. We were therefore helpless spectators of the severe punishment our own B.C. were suffering without having the consolation of seeing what damage the Germans were experiencing.

As has been the custom before, the German shooting was initially very good. Our B.C. were foaming through enormous splashes and it was evident that our line was being straddled. I was watching the line at 4.15 (approx.) and I had just noted with satisfaction that the “Lion” was emerging from a collection of huge fountains of water when I was horrified to see a colossal column of grey white smoke stand on the water where the “Indefatigable” (Battle Cruiser) had been. This column of smoke which I estimate was 700 feet high expanded on top into a great mushroom. The base of this mushroom stalk became a fiery red.

I realized the “Indefatigable” had been blown up and the next thing I remember was seeing the next ship in the line coming through the place where she had been.

I cannot attempt to describe my feelings when the action having proceeded as before vis: – flashes on the horizon, columns of splashes around our Battle Cruisers, salvoes from our B.C.

At 4.23 PM in an almost similar manner the “Queen Mary” (Battle Cruiser) was obliterated by an 800 feet high mushroom of fiery smoke, in this case I remember seeing bits of her ‘flying upward’. As I watched this fiery gravestone, it seemed to waver slightly at the base and I caught a momentary but clear glimpse of the hull of the “Queen Mary” sticking out of the water from the stern to the after funnel.

At this moment (i.e. shortly after the “Queen Mary” sunk) we had either sheared across to port or the B.C. had sheared to starboard to open range, for I remember noticing that we were about 1⁄2 a mile almost right ahead of the “Lion”. Whilst in this position I saw the shell or shells hit the “Lion” which put her midship port turret out of action also causing a fire. I hear that this single shell accounted for the greater number of those killed in the “Lion” (109)

At 4.38 we sighted and reported Light Cruisers followed by the German High Seas Fleet bearing South East steering about North East or North. Either just before or after this, Admiral Beatty made the signal to a/c 16 points which the B.C. then did. We did not obey this signal and held to the Southward for two reasons: –

(1) We thought there might be the chance of making a torpedo attack. (2) We wished to have a good look at them and report accurately.

With these intentions we held on and on, ever drawing nearer to this formidable line of German Battleships. I could see them plainly and counted 16 of them led by the four “Koenig’s” with the six older ones in the rear. Every moment it seemed as if they must open fire and obliterate us, but luckily they decided we were not worth ammunition at this stage of the proceedings. Finally, at a range of 12.900 yards we discovered we could not get into position for a torpedo attack so we turned 16 points and steered Northerly with the German B.C. on our starboard bow and the German Battle Fleet on our starboard quarter and beam, this was at 4,45 PM.

When the “Lion” and remaining B.C. turned 16 points to North or North by West the German B.C. seeing their Grand Fleet coming up from the South also turned 16 points. Our B.C. was then engaged with the German B.C. but we could not see much of this, then came a gap of a couple of miles then the 5th B.S. heavily engaged with the leading half of the German line. Close to the last ship of the 5th B.S. was the “Southampton”, sometimes we were 4-6 cables on their disengaged quarter, at other times we were almost astern. Away on our port quarter were some destroyers and the other ships of our squadron.

‘For the following hour, 5pm to 6pm, I can truthfully say I thought each succeeding minute was our last. For that hour we were under persistent 11in shellfire from the rear of the German fleet. That is to say, all the German battleships which could not get to our battleships thought they might as well while away the time by knocking us out.

‘Needless to say we could not fire a shot in return as the range was about 16,000 yards, way beyond our guns. ‘I crouched behind the 1/10in plate of the after control with Hayward-Booth (the Sub.) and the Clerk and we gnawed on bully beef.

However, my throat was so dry that I could not get much down and we could not get any water.

About once a minute or perhaps thrice in two minutes a series of ear splitting reports would indicate that another salvo had burst around the ship. Against my will I could never resist hanging over the edge and then I saw half a dozen or four muddy foamy looking circles in the water over which black smoke hung. Sometimes these pools were one side, sometimes the other. Some were literally absolutely alongside the ship and those threw masses of water onboard drenching us to the skin.

I should say (and this is a carefully reasoned and considered estimate) that 40 large shells fell within 75 yards of us within the hour and many others at varying distances out. We seemed to bear a charmed life but it was obvious that such a position could not last forever. How we escaped for an hour amazes everyone from the Commander downwards but providence was with us.

We did escape until the arrival at 6.17 PM of Sir J. Jellicoe and the Battle Fleet, this caused the action to enter a 3rd phase. Before proceeding with the third phase of this unique and historic day (a very milestone if not turning point in Naval history) I must emphasize one highly important point which belongs of right to both the 1st and 2nd phases of the action.

I refer to the question of light.
This highly important factor was very greatly in the enemy’s favour during phases one and two. (i.e. Phase One: B.C. against German B.C. Phase Two: 5th B.S. and B.C. against German B.C. and High Seas Fleet).
The fact of this being so was of course due to our relative positions and the time of day. Though at 4 PM the sun was still high in the heavens it was to the N.W. of us and we were to the West of the enemy. As this wonderful afternoon drew on and the sun sank lower towards the N.W. horizon the British ships were silhouetted against the illumination in the sky. The enemy showed up indifferently against a mass of low lying dark grey and purplish clouds.

Having stated this most important point I can now describe how at 6.17 PM I heard with the keenest satisfaction that Sir John Jellicoe who had been hurrying South with the Grand Fleet Battleships and armoured cruisers had been sighted right ahead.
It is neither my place nor my province to discuss in a descriptive account such as this, the tactics employed on the 31st May – 1st June. But I cannot allow myself to go any further without expressing my admiration and delight at the masterly gunnery in which the Commander-in-Chief worked round the Germans to get good light, by putting them to the Westward of him.

When one considers that he could not be considered as fully prepared for a General Fleet Action and that he had been obliged to come rushing South to get us out of a hot corner his success is still more magnificent.

When the Battle Fleet deployed to the Eastward our B.C. passing across the bows of the Fleet took up their positions in the van where also to be found the 1st, 4th and 3rd L.C.S. and Destroyers. The 5th B.S. joined up quite naturally at the tail of the line and we remained astern of them with the “Faulknor” and her destroyers.

As our Grand Fleet deployed I saw a terrible sight, I saw a four funneled cruiser apparently steering down between the two Battle lines, she was moving surrounded by splashes and was in hell. At 6.25 that terribly familiar column of smoke rose over the spot where I had last seen her. It was the end of the “Defence” (armoured cruiser). From amidst the welter of confusion a second 4 funneled cruiser appeared steering about West at 7 knots, she was heavily on fire aft and seemed in a bad way. Painfully she crept across the end of our Battle Line and drew clear of the inferno which was still lashing the water where the “Defence” had gone down.

After we had seen the “Defence” go down and as the “Warrior” hauled across out of it, the line of battle became formed and action became general. Shortly afterwards we were amazed to see “Warspite” suddenly turn to starboard and steer towards the German Fleet. I guessed at once she had been hit in the steering gear.

For three or four thousand yards she went towards them coming under a hail of huge shells as the German Battle Fleet or rather portions of it concentrated on her. I was prepared to see her go up at any moment as it did not seem possible she could survive, the more so as she seemed to be stopped. This lasted some ten minutes when to our astonishment she re-appeared again from amongst the cascades of splashes and smoke around her and steaming strongly came up to the rear of the fleet again. As a matter of fact, she was ordered shortly afterwards to repair to Rosyth for Repairs.

Action may now be said to have become general.
Our long line of Battleships stretching away literally for miles to the N.E. and gradually curving around the Germans. (Though the speed of the fleet was only 17 knots) they presented an inspiring and heartening spectacle as they proceeded majestically along.

survive, the more so as she seemed to be stopped. This lasted some ten minutes when to our astonishment she re-appeared again from amongst the cascades of splashes and smoke around her and steaming strongly came up to the rear of the fleet again. As a matter of fact, she was ordered shortly afterwards to repair to Rosyth for Repairs.

Action may now be said to have become general.
Our long line of Battleships stretching away literally for miles to the N.E. and gradually curving around the Germans. (Though the speed of the fleet was only 17 knots) they presented an inspiring and heartening spectacle as they proceeded majestically along.

Salvo after salvo belched out from the long line of these great ships now confronted for the first time in their careers with the enemy they had waited to see for so many weary months. Firing was not very rapid to begin with as the light was still very poor but as the boot was shifted to the other leg and the Germans became outlined against the western sky the Battleships warmed to their work and an almost continuous succession of jets of flame and brown balls of cordite smoke shot out from the British Battle Fleet.

At 6.47 PM we observed a 3 funneled German Battleship lying between the tail of our line and the German line, she was stopped and on fire. Having nothing particular at that moment on his hands our Commodore Goodenough decided to run over towards her and work our wicked will on her. The fleet at the time was only steaming at 17 knots so we saw that we should have no difficulty in rejoining the rear of the Battle Fleet. At 6.50 we turned to about S.E. and ran down at high speed supported by our squadron to where this 3 funneled German Battleship (probably the Pommern) wallowed in her agony. As soon as we got within range the Squadron opened fire and we could see several shells, in fact a very large number burst on her, the six rear ships of the German line had in my opinion preserved an ominous silence whilst we advanced to batter their helpless brother.

It was the calm before the storm for when we were about 6,000 yards from the 3 funneler and 12,000 yards from the German Battle line they opened a very heavy fire on our Squadron, we fled helter skelter to get back to the rear of our own lines pursued by a perfect shower of 11 inch shells which ‘crumped’ down alongside us in astounding precision.

As an instance of what we had for ten minutes I may mention that Booth and myself were in the After Control together making feeble jokes about the shells which were greeted by our Control Party with hysterical laughter of a somewhat forced nature, and at 7 PM we observed 3 salvo’s of 3 or 4 shells in each strike the water together. We agreed that 2 salvo’s aggregating 7 shells fell alongside the starboard side of the ship, distance about 15 to 50 yards and one bunch of 3 fell 40 yards on the port side at the same time. A regular stream of about one every 15 seconds was falling just ahead of the ship on either bow drenching people on the bridge with their spray.

At 7.15 we were out of range astern of the 5th B.S. (The Q.E’s) who were loosing off steady salvo’s from their 15 inch guns. Although the sea was flat calm the surface was heaving with a sullen swell simply due to the tremendous number of ships of every size and speed which were moving about, it was very difficult for us to steer due to this. Over the whole scene hung brown clouds with the vapour from hundreds of funnels pouring smoke spread over the 100 miles of sea (10×10) in which the main action was being fought.

At about 7.15 the Commander-in-Chief had managed to get to the East North East of the enemy, which later in order to avoid having his track crossed and as he was also being menaced by a destroyer attack turned to the South East. The light was now in our favour and during the next 10 minutes the enemy Battle Fleet must have suffered very heavily from our Fleet.

I had an impression at the time that German T.B.D’s (Torpedo boat destroyers) endeavoured to attack our van. The distance was so great that I could not be sure. I have since heard it was so and that they were beaten off.
At 7.30 PM the Germans had experienced enough for I suddenly saw the rear ships of their line alter course 8 points together. So apparent was this manoeuvre that I sent a written message to the Commodore drawing his attention to it. At the same time his destroyers at the S.E. end (or van) of his line started a smoke screen which by 7.35 was effective having drifted the length of their line. Under cover of this, they retired.

Our Battle Fleet held on a Southerly course as the enemy had been obliged to retire to the S.W. and there seemed a good chance of cutting them off from Germany.
A minor incident which now took place deserves recording…..A German destroyer was left in a disabled condition the wrong side of the smoke screen from its own point of view. As we passed at 7.45 we fired a salvo at 6,400 yards and hit it just in time. The “Faulknor” and a number of destroyers went over to administer the “coup- de-grace”

It has just occurred to me that if the “Marlborough” was torpedoed it might have been this little hornet that did it, for she must have been closer to our line than any other German T.B.D. However, this is only a surmise.

At 8.25 “Birmingham” sighted a submarine, perhaps this got the “Marlborough”?
At 8.30 the Fleet was in columns of divisions, we the 2nd L.C.S. were in line ahead on the starboard beam of the three remaining ships of the 5th B.S. (“Warspite” had gone home) At 8.50 PM we sighted four German T.B.D’s on our starboard bow apparently intending an attack on the Battle Fleet, probably the 5th B.S. We opened fire at once and hit the leading one, though the dusk made shooting very difficult. We drove the others off and they vanished with their tails down.

At 9 PM heavy firing and flashes ahead and to the S.E. I found out afterwards this was the 3rd L.C.S. and our B.C. who had been feeling their way to the Eastward to see if our Fleet was trying to get between the Germans and their base. At this stage of the proceedings only 3 German B.C. were going about together. At about 9.15 or 9.30 we eased to 17 knots, we were astern of the Battle Fleet and course South.

At about this time I drank a little tea which I found, it had no milk or sugar but it was good. Booth also found a slab of chocolate in his cabin.
At approx. 9.40 we suddenly saw a flotilla of destroyers rushing at us, just as we were about to open fire we saw they were our own. As they dashed past our line (how we cursed their haphazard behavior), one of them fired a 4” at us, but didn’t hit anyone. I imagine a Gun layer lost his head.
At 10 PM searchlights were suddenly switched on, away on our starboard beam.

I notice that I keep on using the word ‘suddenly’ I can only plead that during these slow dragging hours most of the events did happen ‘suddenly’
In the glare of these searchlights we saw a number of destroyers making an attack which apparently failed as the ships with the searchlights opened a very rapid fire and scored at least one hit as a big explosion took place on one T.B.D. We thought they looked like our own T.B.D’s but were not sure. (Was this the flotilla that passed us half an hour before and did we see “Tipperary” sunk?)

In a few minutes the lights went out and we were once more straining our eyes in staring out on all sides.

PART II

In this account of the great action I take up the threads of the story where we have just left off. In case the reader has become confused by the times I will briefly state that up to the moment when Part II begins, this Squadron and especially this ship had been under very heavy shell fire most noticeably from 5 – 6 PM when astern of the 5th B.S. and again from 7 – 7.10 PM when running away from the rear ships of the German line. During all this time from 2.30 – 10.00 PM May 31st which is the time Part I ends we had been at Action Stations

When it became dusk we went to night Defence Stations and I went to the bridge as our arrangements are that the Gunnery Lieutenant should control one side and that I control the other. In conversation with him (Burroughs) we had agreed that as in the event of a night action it was improbable, or at all events devoutly to be hoped that we should not be engaged both sides at once, that if we did get into action I should go down into the battery and preferably the waist, quarterdeck and after end generally, as owing to their distance from the bridge, communication to these positions and the guns there are precarious.

It is therefore advisable to have an Officer on the spot if possible, for coolness in a night attack is obviously essential.

The time of which I am now writing is 10 PM on 31st May having watched the night action described at the end of Part I, I decided to rest for a little. I was on the bridge at the time and looking round I discovered the canvas cover of a searchlight, curling myself up in this I lay down at the base of the steering compass.

The narrative will now assume a distinctly personal character but this is inevitable for did I attempt to give a general description of our night action I should be bound to fail. It would be impossible for one individual to do so. I can simply record what I experienced and what I saw together with what I heard immediately afterwards.

At 10.15 I heard someone say that a line of cruisers had been seen on the beam, getting up I went aft and looked in on my way at the After Control where I found Mr. Cabage (Bosun) and Booth who declared they could see German cruisers on the beam. It was a German scouting group consisting of “Fürst Bismarck” or “Rion”, “Augsburg”, “Kolberg”, “Rostock” ?

At this moment 10.20 a ship astern of us either the “Dublin” or the “Nottingham” fired out to starboard and almost at once I saw the shell detonate on a ship on the beam. I dashed down into the waist and stood behind S3 gun, instantly we were dazzled by a mass of searchlight beams. We switched on our own lights and opened fire, I have a distinct recollection of seeing a line of cruisers but I can only remember one, a four funneled craft of the “Rostock” class, distance 1,500 yards. I remember thinking “well we can’t miss each other at this range, we are in for it this time”

I think S.3 had fired two rounds and already a hail of shells had enveloped the ship, though I didn’t realize it at the time, when there was a blinding flash and I seemed to be standing in a fire

During this action I have forgotten to mention that we fired a torpedo at the German line. As the range was 1000 to 1500 yards it is probable that the “Mouldy” ran all right and that we got a hit, this belief is further strengthened by these facts:-

(1)  Observers aft declare they saw one of the German ships struck by a torpedo and suffer a very heavy explosion. Of course these reports cannot be considered very reliable owing to the circumstances under which they were made.

(2)  Officers’ in the ships astern have told me that they observed an underwater explosion in one four funneled cruiser in the German line.

(3)  Next day we passed a place where a ship had gone down, this coincided very nearly with the spot where we had our action.

(4)  If the enemy did not suffer any very exceptional loss, why did they shear off when they must have seen that another five minutes would have sunk us (“Southampton”) unless they thought that we could not possibly survive with our big fires and that why together with their admission of the “Rostock” they persist in claiming the “Birmingham”, evidently us. I must confess that we must have presented a very comforting sight to German eyes.

I staggered back and stumbled round the superstructure and passing aft on the port side came round to the point marked “A” on the sketch where I observed that a fire was in full blast at “B” between the gun and the corner of the superstructure at “H”

The Sergeant Major gallantly dashed forward to turn on the fire main at “H” but no water came as the pipe below had been pierced by a shell. As I have already said I was standing behind the gun when another shell hit, this shell on bursting against the side killed the breech worker of the gun near me and also the loading number standing just to my left front. It also knocked out and wounded the whole of the rest of the guns’ crew except three men, there were left these three or two, I’m not sure exactly, the Sergeant Major (severely burnt) and myself, slightly singed.

When we saw that the fire main would not work we managed to get a hose up the hatch and bring it round, whilst doing this I looked up to the boat deck and saw a sight which almost paralyzed me with horror. An enormous fire was raging between the 2nd and 3rd funnels. Every now and then it showed signs of dying away only to flare up again as high as the top of the funnel. It lit up the whole ship and one could feel its heat. It quite obscured another fire which I found out afterwards was going under the fore bridge. Every moment I thought, as did everyone else onboard and also people in the ship next to us, that we should blow up.

I must explain that though I hardly realized it at the time, an Armoured cruiser, (either the “Roon” or “Prinz Heinrich” and four light cruisers were concentrating on us. With the exception of one or two shells which did some damage to the “Dublin” (she had the Navigator and one man killed, 9 wounded) none of the rest of the squadron were touched.

To get back to the story….
Whilst we were putting out the fire another shell burst on the starboard after searchlight killing two or three men up there and hurled the remains of it down on top of us in the waist, as far as I know it killed no one. When we had put out the fire I dragged a hose up the port ladder to the boat deck, falling over a heap of about three dead men on the way. When I got to the central fire it was being got under control.

I met the Commander there, also Booth and also saw most of P.3’s gun’s crew dead by their gun as were also S. 3’s, they were lying on the deck. Whilst this fire had been raging we were lit up from stem to stern and the enemy let drive at us for all they were worth. As this fire died down the enemy put out their lights and sheared off, either this was due to the punishment they had received or some other cause. At all events we held our course and they turned away.

Darkness succeeded light and groping my way forward I passed a number of dead men and came across a boy (Mellish), a splendid little chap, one arm and a leg was off. He was bleeding to death, quite conscious and most plucky, I had him taken below as well as many others, Mellish died one hour afterwards.

On reaching the bridge I met the Commander who sent me to report casualties, I went down aft stopping to see some dead put over the side and then down the hatch to the central passageway which was in places running with blood. The doctors were operating in the Stokers bathroom; they were doing an amputation when I arrived. Not a murmur rose, not a sound, not a groan came from these wrecks of humanity lying on the deck, the tables and the sideboard. A whispered request for a cigarette was all I heard.

Going up to the bridge again I told the Commander what I could and then went down to the battery where the Lieut. (G) and the Commander were making up sufficient guns’ crews with stokers to man one side if required. We also did our best to test and restore communications which in most cases were blown to stems. Having done what, we could, Booth and myself went up to the bridge and lay down on the searchlight cover as there was nothing else we could do. We found a lot of blood there so we shifted ground.

Suddenly firing started right astern, supposedly Battle Cruisers in action. I prayed to heaven we should not run up against them, with only enough men left to man one side and even then the loading numbers were stokers, we were in no state to fight.

We increased to 20 knots and when dawn was breaking we sighted a number of Battleships right ahead. Such is the uncertainty of night work that for one or two painful moments we were not sure of their identity, but luckily they were our own. The scene on the upper deck defies description and in places it was so horrible that I will not describe it. The funnels were riddled with holes large and small and most of the upper deck casing and the boats were coloured a bright yellow from the melinite fumes. Of the boats, only one was fit to put in the water.

Down below, the smoking room flat presented an extraordinary appearance, Marsden’s cabin and Stoddart’s on the starboard side were utterly wrecked as two shells had passed through here. One had carried on into the Wardroom and the other had made its way across the ship into mine doing a good deal of damage and smashing the scuttle. All my gear was on the deck and there was about six to nine inches of water (chiefly through my broken scuttle) everywhere. It was a painful sight.

A shell went into the Commodore’s cabin high up but did nothing, another entered Booth’s cabin and smashing through his bunk entered the Wardroom and fetched up with some violence against the soda water machine. A 9.4” entered the ships’ side through the Carpenter’s cabin, killed two men in the flat and did damage I have already described in the waist overhead.

The funnels were hit repeatedly and there were several direct hits on the deck which did tremendous execution amongst the gun crews near them. Two or three direct hits under the bridge caused a fire and deaths under and on the bridge itself. There were further hits along the side, some of which were kept out by our three inch armour, but one big one penetrated and wrecked the First Lieutenant’s cabin. Others came in and smashed the Gunner (T) and (G’s) cabins.

A big one entered the stokers number two mess deck and killed some men there, it also gave some trouble as it was on the waterline. This one and the one in the Carpenter’s cabin were the only ones which leaked at all badly once we had plugged and shored them all up. The main suction kept the water from these in hand.

As to our movements during the 1st June and also as to a detailed list of our injuries, they are not really of great general interest.
The Germans probably doubled back on their tracks and though we were between them and their base the weather was misty and they escaped the Commander-in-Chief’s Grand Fleet. We passed some very large mines and a T.B.D. bottom up whilst we were cruising about in the Bight looking for the Germans.
At twelve noon we packed up Action stations having been at them for 23 hours and we returned to base. On the way in we had to heave to once during the night as a small gale caused some of the shores to carry away and we began to leak rather badly.

We also buried some wounded who had died of their wounds, one poor chap had just died today in the hospital ship after surviving a week, he was one of the frightfully burnt cases

I now propose to close this account by rendering thanks where they are due, as one

fellow said speaking about our ‘night show’……

” There were not many atheists’ onboard us at 11 PM, though there might have been some at 10 PM”.

HMS Southampton 24th October 1917

Said Writer A.W.G. Symonds has served under me from 27th October 1915 to 15th February 1917. He has always carried out his responsible duties here with accuracy and loyalty. In several trying and arduous situations, including the Battle of Jutland, 31st May 1916, his conduct has been in every way satisfactory. I have no hesitation in recommending him for a position of responsibility and trust.

Signed
Staff Paymaster R.N.

 

The Journal was transcribed by Ian Mackenzie, HMS Lowestoft Association April 2016

 

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HMS ST VINCENT

Letter from a young midshipman to his mother (as it appeared in a contemporary newspaper account)

Letter from a Combatant

The Battle of Jutland

We are pleased to share with our readers this letter from a young midshipman of the Royal Navy who relates to his parents the great battle of May 31st as he witnessed it from his battle station.

Admiral Sir John Jellicoe’s Fleet_[On board the battleship HMS X…, First Battle Squadron]

HMS St. Vincent, Cadet Henry Arthur Adeane Mallet with his elder brother, Victor (later Sir Victor Mallet) dated August 1914. (Private Collection)

My Dear Parents,

Sunday evening seems to me an adequate time to sum up my impressions of battle to you; I therefore begin:

Wednesday May 31st, in the afternoon., we were southbound not expecting a squall, in fact no one was thinking of one. At 3.30 p.m. (15:30 hrs) we were told to prepare ourselves immediately for clearing for action. We went through this interesting exercise which consists mainly in destroying everything, putting tables upside down, taking chairs out on deck, and to flood the decks with two or three inches of water. We locked again our chests in the bathroom, though I had time enough to tumble down below decks and extract from mine my warm things and my life gear. I was, indeed, expecting to spend the night outdoors and it was not exactly warm.

At that time, the weather was cloudy and misty, and one could not see very far. Towards 4 pm (16oo hrs) we forced speed and we received news that our light cruisers had seen the enemy, which took us to a paroxysm of excitement. It seemed to us (and I think I was not mistaken) that a meeting with the object of our wrath depended only on a stroke of luck. This element of sport added to our excitement.

At 17:00hrs, we learned that the fastest battlecruisers and first class battleships had made contact with the enemy. We went full steam towards our target, in the fervent hope that we would reach it. At about a quarter to six, we sighted glimmers of light on the starboard bow, and a little later we saw the battlecruisers exchanging fire with the enemy. The battle fleet was sailing on several lines. We wheeled to port in the wake of the battlecruisers. We made one single long line with all our starboard guns aimed at the enemy. At 6:30, or a little after, we opened fire on a ship which all of us took for the armoured cruiser Roon. (I since learnt that it was probably not the Roon, but it was nevertheless a large armoured cruiser.) She had already suffered serious damage, and after taking direct hits from half a dozen of our salvos she disappeared in a magnificent conflagration. She was able to stay afloat for only a few moments after we had abandoned her. Afterwards we chose as a target a much larger first class battleship (probably a Kaiser class), and the squadron gave her a taste of hell. There is ample reason to believe that she had succumbed, but I am not sure if anyone had actually seen her sink. It was at that point that the entire German battle line, which had just taken its combat positions, turned around and took flight. And that was the end! It was about 8 pm.

You see then that they had retreated before we had been able to truly attack them. They had sustained very serious damages! We had really witnessed only the preliminaries to a fight and we could only have a rather vague idea of the real thing. Nevertheless, what we saw was perfect. We were overcome by joy and felt the better for it.

It was impossible for us to bear down on the retreating shadows not knowing if the enemy had not disposed dozens of mines and submarines on our path. We did nonetheless give chase to them on a safer course. I spent the night on the fire control bridge even though, as you know, my battle station was in a gun turret. My mission was to stand by the 4 inch guns in the event that we came under fire from destroyers. I did not sleep all night as a result.

That night, at about 10:30pm (22:30 hrs), there was a violent engagement or an attack from the destroyers at a certain distance from us to starboard. It is likely that this was the battle in which the German dreadnought mentioned earlier was sunk. We saw a number of flashes of light lights and a huge conflagration and this caused a great commotion among us. Nothing else happened to us for the rest of the night, and at 2am I returned to my turret where everything was ready (the guns loaded etc.) to open fire at the first warning. We took turns to sit on top of the turret to smoke a pipe.

A little after 4 a.m. we sighted a zeppelin aircraft astern, and I could not help being greatly excited since it was the first one I had ever seen. It drew nearer to the ship but rather, I think, to scout than to throw bombs at us for, in fact, it did not drop a single one. We fired at it with a 12inch gun and sent two rounds of our anti-aircraft cannon, which made it to retreat immediately. To tell the truth, I think it was out of range, but it was worth trying our luck against it.

We remained at the same spot for a while, hoping for a good opportunity, but obviously the Huns did not see things the same way and they kept well out of reach. So we started our way back. We remained at our battle stations until 3 pm (15:00 hrs) which means we had kept to them for 24 hours at a stretch. This is not too bad.

There is reason to believe that during the operations four torpedoes were fired at us but not one of them hit us as, it seems, all the ships on which I have sailed have been proverbially lucky. We made it back without any damages or casualties. It is considered that it was our squadron which took the brunt of the onslaught during the engagement of the first class battleships. Of course, the battlecruisers, more any one else, “took a beating”. At least I think that we have fired more than any other unit. At any rate, and whatever might have happened, I am convinced that the Huns had been more battered than we were, and onboard our ship everything had gone like clockwork.

Having waited so long for this day, we all felt a great joy and everybody was delighted except when it was all over. Then, I must confess, I felt very saddened at the thought of all the brave men who had had to die.

That morning we held a memorial service on board ship, following which I attended the funerals of some of the victims. Admiral Jellicoe was present and so were many others, it was very impressive.

I fear I got carried away and have told you too much, but I hope you will not hold against me. It is so rarely I have something to tell you._Goodbye.

Your affectionate son, Arthur.

Sub-Lieutenant Henry Arthur Adeane Mallet, dated November 1918.

(Kind courtesy of Mowbray Jackson who also helped update the ship’s database profile. Many thanks)

Mowbray Jackson’s grandfather was the seventeen year old Midshipman in question, on the battleship HMS St Vincent and was ‘doggie’ to Captain Fisher. So both our grandfathers were there…albeit on different pay scales! He had just come off convalescent leave due to his having been blown up at Gallipoli in 1915. The letter was written to his parents after the battle and his father had it copied and sent to various cousins. To his horror, one cousin in Paris had it translated and published in Le Monde. Mowbray includes two interesting photos. Both need some help with identification.

One of the returning light cruisres showing the damage to the breech of one of her guns. Which Light cruiser could this be?

Who is this unidentified officer?

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See Ships’ database on HMS St. Vincent.

HMS WARRIOR

On the 23rd August this year (2016) the very last wreck from Jutland was found. That’s extraordinary, one hundred years after the event that the sea had not given up her secrets. The discovery was made by the joint efforts of Gert Normann Andersen, the prime mover behind Denmark’s new Seawar museum in the small fishing town of Thyborøn, and Dr. Innes McCartney, naval archeologist.

She lies at 83 metres where she went down when HMS Engadine finally had to cut the hawser. Her crew evacuated calmly and professionally. Able bodied first and then wounded.

A new book was published about the experiences of an ERA (engine room artificer) on the ship. Rosemary Parr’s book writes about the terrifying experience of her grandfather, stuck with water up to his chest and unable to get out. His own and the sheer courage of other ERAs was moving and deeply moving.

Lieutenant Commander Rob Whitworth (Royal Navy) whose Great Grandfather, William Henry Swan served on board HMS Warrior as Chief Engine Room Artificer  during the Battle of Jutland, said: “Researching my Great Grandfather’s role during the battle has helped me to understand my family’s place in history. It’s easy to become overwhelmed by large numbers and to lose sight of the personal stories of those that took part. Speaking to descendants and remembering their families’ individual stories helps to preserve the memories of those that lost their lives. I’m proud to be able to share my Great Grandfather’s story and would encourage others to do the same and attend events in 2016”.

 

HMS YARMOUTH

Prior to Jutland HMS Yarmouth had been involved in the search for the Emden and had sunk one of its colliers and captured another, she was then attached to the 3rd LCS (Light Cruiser Squadron) and formed part of Vice Admiral Sir David Beatty’s Fleet – on the fleets outward passage to Jutland she reported a periscope sighting which turned out to be mistaken, but caused Beatty to change direction for approx. 20 minutes.

HMS Yarmouth

Not an auspicious start to Jutland but during the battle the Yarmouth expended 160 6in shells – second only to Falmouth (also in the 3rd LCS) – together they expended a third of all the 6in shells fired by Light Cruisers in the battle. Ships they engaged with were the Wiesbaden, Lützow, Derfflingger and various destroyers. Yarmouth also fired a torpedo at fired at the Lützow but missed.

Connected to both the Yarmouth and Jutland, is the interesting story of “Rutland of Jutland”.

Attached to the 3rd LCS was the seaplane carrier HMS Engadine. On 30 May 1916 Beatty ordered Engadine to make a search to the north-northeast. At 15:07 Lieutenant Rutland took off in his Short Type 184 and his observer, Assistant Paymaster G. S. Trewin, signalled Engadine that they had spotted three German cruisers and five destroyers at 15:30. This was the first time that a heavier-than-air aircraft had carried out a reconnaissance of an enemy fleet in action. Rutland was awarded the Distinguished Service Cross “for his gallantry and persistence in flying within close distance of the enemy light cruisers”. During the Battle of Jutland, the armoured cruiser HMS Warrior had been crippled by numerous hits by German battleships. At 19:45 Engadine attempted to take her in tow, but the jammed rudder prevented that until it was trained amidships. Early the following morning Warrior_‘s progressive flooding had worsened and she was sinking. The captain ordered his ship abandoned after Engadine came alongside to take the crew off at 08:00. About 675 officers and men successfully made it to the much smaller Engadine. Among these were about 30 seriously wounded men who were transferred across in their stretchers; one man fell from his stretcher between the ships, but, against orders, Rutland dived overboard with a bowline to rescue him. For his bravery he was awarded the First Class Albert Medal for Lifesaving in gold.

On 28 June 1917, Flight Commander Rutland took off in a Sopwith Pup from a flying-off platform mounted on the roof of one of the gun turrets of the light cruiser HMS Yarmouth, the first such successful launch of an aircraft in history. He received a second award of the DSC in 1917 for “services on patrol duties and submarine searching in home waters”.

However the story does not have a happy ending – Rutland resigned his commission in 1923. He had come to the notice of MI5 in 1922 when the agency had received what it called “reliable information” from a “very delicate source” that the Japanese had had secret talks with Rutland. MI5 noted that Rutland possessed “unique knowledge of aircraft carriers and deck landings”. He had subsequently been providing technical details which helped the Japanese design aircraft carriers, in the years before the attack on Pearl Harbour. This was discovered when Japan’s cyphers were broken. MI6 discovered that Rutland had come to the attention of the US authorities. He returned to Britain on 5 October 1941 and on 16 December 1941 he was interned under Defence Regulation 18B “by reason of alleged hostile associations”. Rutland committed suicide in 1949.

(Kind courtesy of John Toohey, 2016, who also helped with HMS Yarmouth’s ship’s profile in the database. Many thanks)

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HMS TIGER

Arthur Lunn from Dawlish in Devon, recounted his part in the battle of Jutland and the horrific injuries he suffered to his ten year old great nephew, Christopher. He’d been a signaler on HMS Tiger.He’d be ordered to send a message by flags and, just as he had started, Tiger was hit. Lunn was blown clean off the superstructure. As he fell, he was cut open. From his waist to his ankle. Literally ripped open. He fell in to the sea but was rescued by a small boat.Hauled aboard, he lay bleeding to death on the deck. If it had not been for one of his rescuers, a sailmaker, he would have died there. The man stitched him up from his rearside to his ankle.Christopher remembers seeing his great uncle’s leg. He described it as looking like the stitches on a rugby ball.

(Courtesy of Christopher North, Arthur Lunn’s great nephew)

SM Torpedoboot V.41

Two grandfathers at Jutland in the German Fleet. One a friend of Admiral Jellicoe’s from China Days.  

From an interview with Jürgen Schultz-Siemens, one grandfather who was Max Schultz, the commander of the 6th Half Flotilla led by the V.41 at Jutland. He and my grandfather had fought together in China in 1900 and had, when they ran out of food, shared what little they had. When Jellicoe was in Berlin in 1913 for the marriage of the Kaiser’s daughter, he and Schultz met with their wives. On May 29th 2016, I was invited to the  Commemoration service in the Wilhelmshaven Friedhof. With my cousin, I laid a wreath on Shlultz’s commemoration stone which is metres from the Lützow memorial.

 

What is their role had in the events?

Leopold Siemens was Lieutenant and second radio officer on the battleship SMS Rheinland. Max Schultz, 13 years earlier entered the Navy, led the VI Half Torpedo boat flotilla as a Lieutenant Commander. He was of the attack against the British battle line which forced Jellicoe to turn away when Admiral Scheer wanted to withdraw theHigh Seas Fleet eleven torpedoes were fired though none hit. However, they achieved what they had set out to do. Force the British battleships to turn away. Schultz has received the Knight’s Cross of the Hohenzollern for his actions on the 5th June.

 

Max unfortunately died six months later off the Belgian coast when Flottillenführerboot, the  V. 69 was sunk by British cruisers. He was among those who have not survive.

 

But Jürgen knew his other grandfather, Leopold, who lived till after the second world war. He wants to write up his history for his own children with the memoirs that Leopold left.

Leopold was a radio officer and had to pass the commands from the flagship along the line as they were trying to get through the British line at night. The older officers looked down on the new technology of radio calling it  Funkenpusterei . His ship, the Rhineland suffered two 15-centimeter  hits and had ten dead. “Only the Stupid have no fear ,” he recalled later to Jürgen.

Max led torpedo boat at maximum speed, around 36 knots, right up to the British line. To within 6,000 meters. The sight of the firing British ships left an indelible impression: “sinister and gigantic”

Both officers felt they were part of an elite force. Well trained and prepared. They were aware of a certain superiority, because they knew British training well. They’d had such close contacts before the war. Both Leopold and Max saw how the German ships have achieved better shooting results. They both saw the terrible spectacle of the loss of three of the large British battlecruisers. They must have both felt proud, Jürgem says, despite them both also understanding that nothing had changed so far as the strategic position was concerned. The total blockade of Germany remained. They did not feel comfortable wearing their naval uniforms as time progressed. They felt they weren’t playing their part as so many of their friends were dying in the land war.

Leopold was a strong officer and proud of the care he felt for his men. ” Leadership and responsibility of people were the nicest thing about my job,” he said. He felt himself a Prussian and as “a convinced republican “. Like most officers in the imperial Navy he came from a bourgeois background. He stayed in the Navy and became a Vice Admiral in the Kriegsmarine and served with Karl Doenitz, He knew submarines well and became head of Submarine development. Tragically, he lost his only son Horst, my mother’s brother, as a young lieutenant on one of these is U -boats in 1942. Until the outbreak of war Leopold had served as Naval Attaché in London. He had very good and personal relations with the British Admiralty. The day Britain declared war on Germany, September 2nd 1939, he’d been invited by John Godfrey, head of the British Navy intelligence, to a dinner as the only foreign guest. No on spoke politics. Everyone knew what was about to happen. At the end of the evening he thanked Godfrey for his friendship and left with Warrender’s words of 1914: ” Friends today, friends forever .”

Leopold was dismissed in late 1944 as the naval commander in northern Norway and threatened with indictment for treason accused of not supporting the war effort vigorously enough.