SCAPA AND A CAMERA

THE DEVELOPMENT OF THE BASE

Some slight apologia seems necessary to-day for the publication of a book of war reminiscences (even though they be mainly photographic), when so many personages, from Admirals and Generals downwards to the humbler ranks of W.A.A.C.'s and lady typists in Government offices, have seen fit to record in print their experiences during the Great War. This little album is being published at the suggestion of various friends in the Naval Service, with whom the writer has come into contact during the five years he has been associated with the Royal Navy at the Grand Fleet Base at Scapa Flow, and, it is hoped, may reach a wider circle of those to whom the name "Scapa Flow" has hitherto conveyed but a hazy notion of islands shrouded in perpetual northern mist—somewhere north of Scotland, c/o G.P.O., where for five years the Grand Fleet kept its monotonous vigil in readiness for "the Day," and where finally it had its reward when, in November, 1918, the German Fleet was ignominiously escorted into the waters of the Flow, whose defences its submarines had more than once endeavoured, unsuccessfully, to penetrate.

Various writers—e.g., "Bartimaeus" and the author of "In the Northern Mists"—have written vivid pen pictures of the everyday life of the Navy, and the photographs reproduced in the following pages, besides recalling many monotonous—and some pleasant—times to those who served at Scapa during the war, may help to supplement these books by presenting the actual environment and life of those whose "lawful occasions" necessitated so long a sojourn in these northern waters.

To many "Scapa" is a name (judging from the warmth of their remarks when the subject is mentioned) that they would like to eradicate for ever from their book of remembrance. Their feelings are expressed in a parody of a well-known song which appeared in the Orcadian of the 5th December, 1918, entitled—

SCAPA FLOW
(A Hymn of Hate).

Curiously enough, the weather forecast given in the Orcadian immediately below read: "Showers or drizzling rain; local mist."

Certainly even the most enthusiastic Orcadian has to admit that the islands have few natural features to commend them, and even less of the artificial amenities of civilisation: country practically bare of trees and vegetation, days in winter when the sun hardly seems to rise at all, and a climate that seems to hold the record for rainfall, storms, and unreliability.

Yet, in spite of all the unkindness of Nature, to many there hangs a cloud of romance over these far-away northern islands. To those who have the observing eye, they are rich in the remains of a prehistoric past, with a history extending far back into the centuries. They possess a coast of unsurpassed grandeur of form and beauty of colouring, and as they are approached from the south, or seen from one of the hills of Hoy on a fair day, appear like some "fairy archipelago set in a summer sea," whilst a distant mirage often heightens the effect of unreality. In few places does one see such wonderful sunsets and cloud effects as in Orkney, followed often a little later by the "searchlight" rays of the Aurora Borealis. But mainly will those who spent long months and years in Orkney look back, not without regrets, on the spirit of comradeship which made exile endurable, and which, in face of a common danger, united even the most varied personalities to work in harmony for a common cause. Many friendships were made which will long survive the war; many a "cheery night" in the wardroom will recall pleasant memories of those who are now scattered over the Seven Seas; and few of the many thousands who returned to civil life after serving in the Navy during the war but will have some regrets for the days when they took the rough and the smooth together (it was mostly rough) in the northern mists of Scapa Flow. Not a few married into Orcadian families, and the writer recalls his embarrassment on one occasion when in Stonehouse Naval Hospital recovering from an operation, in discussing somewhat freely various Kirkwall acquaintances with a naval officer invalided from the Northern Base, he happened to mention a certain lady's name as one of the fairest of the Orcadian maidens, whom he understood had married a naval officer. "Yes," was the reply, "she is my wife."

Until quite recently Scapa Flow and the Orkneys were practically unknown to the majority of Englishmen, and even to-day very few could point out the exact location of Scapa Flow on the map. In a well-known London newspaper of 23rd June, 1919 (after the scuttling of the German Fleet), Scapa Flow was marked on a map as north of Kirkwall, whereas it will be seen from the map reproduced in this volume that it is actually south of that town.

It is recalled also that on one occasion a travelling claim of a certain officer at the Base was returned from the Admiralty with a query as to the car hire claimed, and the inquiry was made as to why more use had not been made of the railway facilities!

Scapa Flow was used as an exercise ground for the Home Fleet many years before the war, with headquarters at the north-eastern corner of the Flow; but no preparations appear to have been made for its use as a permanent war Base prior to 1914, and consequently an enormous amount of pioneer work was needed to render it a safe and efficient harbour for the Grand Fleet and its auxiliaries. The magic growth of the Base from a few ships to many hundreds of vessels of all types—battleships, cruisers, destroyers, submarines, depÔt ships, oilers, colliers, store and ammunition ships, hospital ships, etc.—constituting the most powerful Fleet ever assembled in one place, was a gradual process, in which many novel situations arose and many difficulties had to be met and contended with. The absence of railway communication, the difficulties of local transport in weather conditions which at times even large vessels could not face, were additional obstacles to the hurried improvisation of arrangements, both ashore and afloat, which were essential to the effectual working of the Grand Fleet.

When Admiral Jellicoe succeeded Sir George Callaghan as Commander-in-Chief of the newly-named "Grand Fleet" on 4th August, 1914, there were practically no defences whatever on any of the islands, with the exception of a few 12-pounder guns landed from the Fleet, whilst there were, of course, no booms or obstructions across the numerous entrances (Hoxa, Switha, Hoy, and Holm Sounds) to the Flow. It was not until the end of 1914 and the beginning of 1915 that sunken ships were placed across the narrower channels, such as Burra, Water, and Holm Sounds, and that net-boom defence drifters were placed across the larger ones, and 4-inch and 6-inch guns landed at various batteries, which were erected to command these entrances. Consequently, during these early months of the war, the Grand Fleet could not remain in harbour in the Flow for more than a very brief period, owing to the danger of submarine attack; indeed, as Jellicoe remarks in his book on the Grand Fleet, it is a wonder that the Germans did not make a more determined attack on our Fleet during this period. It was on 16th/17th October, 1914, that the "Battle of Scapa Flow" took place, when a report that a submarine was in the Flow caused great excitement, and every available type of craft got under way in the endeavour to locate and sink it, firing at anything remotely resembling a periscope, and at night-time sweeping the seas with their searchlights. It was, I believe, never actually ascertained whether a submarine was present, but, as a result, the Grand Fleet moved further westwards to Lough Swilly, and did not return to Scapa until a few months later when the defences were somewhat more secure. Meantime the organisation of the Base proceeded apace, and H.M.S. "Cyclops" and "Assistance," Fleet repair ships, were joined by a large and increasing number of vessels, with Rear-Admiral F. S. Miller in command of the Base. Even so, continued difficulty was felt to accommodate the even more rapidly expanding personnel, and Admiral Jellicoe writes regarding the "Cyclops" at this period: "The manner in which the great demands on her accommodation were met was a standing wonder to me. In the early part of the war, officers on Admiral Miller's Staff and others were obliged to make their sleeping berths as best they could on the deck or on top of their writing-tables, and it was surprising that the overcrowding in all directions did not affect health."

Towards the end of October, 1914, the Base, owing to weather conditions, was moved from Scapa Bay to Long Hope, where it remained until April, 1919, when it was transferred to Lyness, where a substantial sea-wall was in process of completion, and where the Floating Dock was moored. Here it still remains, though of it "Ichabod" must be written, for it retains only a shadow of its former activities. The Fleet itself lay north of Weddel Sound, and the auxiliaries were disposed between Long Hope and Gutter Sound (see map).

One of the earliest arrivals at the Base was H.M.S. "Imperieuse" (previously "Fisgard I."). She left Portsmouth in September, 1914, in company with "Fisgard II.," with a party of dockyardmen who were coming up for work in the Grand Fleet; unfortunately "Fisgard II." capsized off Portland Bill with the loss of several lives, but "Fisgard I." arrived safely at Scapa Flow, and was renamed "Imperieuse." During the war she discharged many useful and important functions, and there are few naval officers who served any length of time at Scapa who did not at some time pass through her. Primarily she was the receiving and distributing centre for the mails for the Fleet, and some idea of the enormous number of letters, etc., dealt with may be gleaned from the fact that when the Fleet was present some 50,000 items were sorted and despatched daily. "Imperieuse" was also the headquarters of the staffs of the Admiralty Port Officer (or King's Harbour Master, as he would be styled at a dockyard port), Fleet Coaling Officer, Naval Store Officer, Victualling Store Officer, Naval Ordnance Officer, Cashier, Base Censor, and also accommodated the dockyard working parties, until at a later stage other vessels arrived which relieved her of some of these functions. In spite of the limited office and cabin accommodation, it was an interesting time: the work and the conditions were novel, and there was always plenty to be done in straightening out the various problems that arose. One could write a small volume on the personalities one met at the Base at that time: of a certain genial captain, addicted to forcible but effective speech; of "V.O.S.O.," equally proficient in supplying flour and potatoes, and music; of "N.O.S.O.," who insisted on a duly receipted, countersigned, and approved voucher (in triplicate) before he would part with a minute brass screw; of the "Drifter King," whose knowledge of Scotch drifter-men and their idiosyncrasies was profound; of a certain officer in charge of Water Boats, sent to the Base by the Admiralty as a "gentleman of affairs," whose versatility flowed into such diverse channels as the organisation of a band, sports, the edition of a ship's magazine, the supervision of gifts forwarded by the Fresh Fruit and Vegetables Fund, and in numerous other directions; of W—— and B—— (the "Bullion Brokers"), who could give you the very latest tip straight from the horse's mouth: these are but a few of those who enlivened the Base in 1915-1916.

One of the next noteworthy arrivals at the Base was that of H.M.S. "Victorious," early in 1916. A "dockyard ship" had been awaited for nearly a year to relieve the congestion on "Imperieuse," and in September, 1915, the "Caribbean," duly fitted out for the purpose, left Liverpool for Scapa, but, like "Fisgard II.," sank on the journey north off Cape Wrath. H.M.S. "Victorious" was then taken in hand, and reached the Base safely in March, 1916. She was well provided with workshops and accommodation—being indeed a miniature "floating dockyard"—and at times over 500 dockyard artisans were accommodated, although these usually lived afloat on the ships of the Grand Fleet. The presence of such a large body of civilian workmen on a ship officered and manned by Service ranks and ratings presented several novel problems, and it was largely due to the tact and consideration of both parties that the experiment, on the whole, was justified by the results. The possession of such a ship at the Base, by enabling defects to be adjusted and installations, such as director firing gear, protective deck plating, flying-off platforms, etc., to be fitted by skilled workmen at the Base instead of at a southern dockyard, added considerably to the fighting strength of the Fleet at a time when ships were badly needed, and when our numerical superiority over the enemy fleet was less marked than at a later period of the war.

Early in 1917 the addition of a small Floating Dock enabled much useful work to be done in carrying out minor refits and emergency repairs, and over 200 keels were docked whilst it remained at Scapa.

The Fleet repair ships, H.M.S. "Cyclops" and "Assistance," have already been referred to, and they should not be overlooked in this connection; both these vessels carried out, with naval ratings, valuable repairs in connection with the maintenance of the machinery, etc., of the ships of the Grand Fleet.

Meantime the duties of "Imperieuse" were still further relieved by the arrival of other vessels. R.F.A. "Ruthenia," previously a dummy battleship, became the storeship and headquarters of the Victualling and Naval Store Officers, and the Fleet Coaling Officer took up his quarters in R.F.A. "Perthshire" in the secluded waters of Pegal Bay; whilst the "Sokoto" (a depÔt ship for the storing and repair of torpedoes) and M.F.A. "Zaria" (repair ship for small craft, such as drifters, trawlers, etc.) were already at Long Hope.

Once the early work of organisation was over, life at Scapa, especially for the Base ships, settled down to a somewhat monotonous routine, varied by spasms of excitement when the Grand Fleet received orders to proceed to sea, and one wondered if this time it was actually a "stunt," or merely once more "P.Z." The summer of 1916 was not, however, without incident. The return of the Fleet from Jutland, on the morning of 2nd June, was an exciting moment, followed a few days later by the dramatic news that Lord Kitchener had been lost in H.M.S. "Hampshire" off Marwick Head, and later in the month the King paid a short visit to the Fleet. Just over a year later, in July, 1917, the battleship "Vanguard" blew up with the loss of practically the entire ship's company. The explosion occurred late at night (about eleven o'clock), and the vivid flames which illumined the twilight sky (it was still fairly light) were followed by a dense column of smoke rising about half a mile into the sky. Everyone rushed on deck clad in a varied assortment of night attire, every available craft was rushed to the scene of the disaster, and anti-submarine precautions were ordered to be taken. Some idea of the force of the explosion may be gathered from the fact the "Vanguard's" pinnace was blown clean over the next ship in the line, and landed in the water on the other side, practically undamaged, whilst it was reported that a packet of Treasury notes was picked up intact next day on the neighbouring island of Flotta.

Towards the end of December, 1917, our Fleet was strengthened by the arrival of four U.S. battleships, which were incorporated into the Grand Fleet as the Sixth Battle Squadron. The presence of the Americans contributed some new features into the life of the Base, notably in the domain of sport, and baseball became for a time quite a popular game. The importance of games and sport, incidentally, has always been recognised in the Navy, and nowhere was the need for recreation more essential for the maintenance of morale and fitness than at Scapa. Football was played all the year round (there being no summer to speak of in these northern latitudes) on Flotta (the playing ground of the Grand Fleet), and at Long Hope and Lyness by the Base ships, whilst two or three rough golf courses were laid out for the use of officers. Admiral Jellicoe used often to be seen playing a hurried game round the course at Flotta in the few moments of relaxation he was able to snatch from his work on the "Iron Duke." Tennis was hardly a possible game, owing to the inclement weather and the continual winds, but one or two ash and gravel courts were made at the shore batteries. Sailing and pulling matches were frequently arranged, and the sports of the Base ships at Long Hope became an annual event greatly looked forward to by the local inhabitants as well as by the ships' companies. Another annual event of great interest was the Grand Fleet Boxing Championship Contest, held outside the Y.M.C.A. Hut at Flotta. These competitions were witnessed by as many as 10,000 men, and the writer recalls an inspiring speech made by Admiral Beatty to this great gathering of sailors in July, 1917, after he had distributed the prizes. Prince Albert, incidentally, was present on this occasion.

The work of the Y.M.C.A. Huts, at Flotta and Long Hope, and of the Church Army Hut later at Lyness, was of great value in providing almost the only recreation and social amusement obtainable outside of one's ship, and the ladies who volunteered for service in these lonely islands deserve every praise for the way in which they cared for the comfort and entertainment of the men during the war.

Gardening became at one period quite a popular, as well as profitable, recreation amongst many of the men and officers, and although neither the soil nor the climate was very promising, some remarkably good crops of vegetables were obtained, which were especially welcome in view of the difficulties of obtaining fresh fruit and vegetables on board ship. One enterprising ship actually raised chickens and pigs on one of the islands, although the uncertain movements of the ships made the feeding question a difficult problem at times.

A variety of indoor amusements was provided on board ship. The "movies" were always a standing attraction, whilst billiards proved a popular war-time innovation, the movement of the ship adding a fascinating element of uncertainty to the game! Some excellent "shows" were organised, and an improvised stage, with the necessary accessories, was rigged up on the Frozen Meat Ship "Gourko," which proved an ideal "theatre ship," although it was advisable to come warmly clad, as the auditorium was over the refrigerating room!

Very little of interest occurred at the Base in the early part of 1918, and the Grand Fleet spent a considerable time in this year at Rosyth, where the completion of the boom defences permitted exercises and firing to be carried out with almost the same degree of safety and convenience as at Scapa. The progress of the war was, as elsewhere, watched with great excitement towards the end of the year, and the signing of the Armistice on the 11th November, 1918, came as a great relief after four years of strain and effort. One of the most welcome of the minor changes effected by the Armistice was the removal of the Censorship which had been rigorously maintained during the war, and for the first time the general public became aware of the jealously guarded secret of the location of the Northern Base of the Grand Fleet.

The entry of the German ships into Scapa Flow for internment towards the end of the month was a memorable sight, which will not soon be forgotten by those who witnessed it. The vessels came north from Rosyth in detachments, and each group of ships entered the Flow in the grey dawn of an autumn morning, escorted by our own ships. Little groups of spectators who had gathered at points of vantage on the islands identified the various ships as they entered with great interest, and more especially in the case of those who had last met them in action. It was some compensation for those who had spent so many months and years at Scapa that "the Day" should have culminated in such a dramatic and complete surrender of the German Fleet, although it seemed then almost unthinkable that such a surrender should have been made without at least an effort to strike a last blow, or in the last resort to scuttle their ships in port. That some, at any rate, of the officers of the German Navy had these feelings was evident from the destruction of one of their submarines just before the Armistice in the act of entering the Flow, whose outer defences it had indeed penetrated. There seems little doubt that this was a last desperate attempt to sink as many as possible of our Fleet before the final and then inevitable surrender, and one cannot but acknowledge the spirit and the bravery of those who took part in such a forlorn hope.

Even more dramatic was the afternoon of Saturday, 21st June, 1919, when the large majority of the interned vessels sank beneath the waters of the Flow.

In accordance with the terms of the Armistice German crews were allowed to remain on board the interned ships, and after the preliminary inspection, there was practically no communication with our own ships except for essential matters of duty. This rather aided the preparation of the plans made by the Germans, and shortly after noon on the 21st the sea-cocks of all the vessels were simultaneously opened, and ensigns, and in some cases the Red Flag, hoisted. The First Battle Squadron, which was then at the Base, was exercising in the Pentland Firth at the time, and was not able to return until later in the afternoon, but all available tugs and small craft were immediately ordered to the sinking ships, and as many as possible were run ashore on the surrounding islands. It was a clear afternoon, and probably no more wonderful sight has ever been witnessed than that of these huge vessels on all sides heeling over and plunging headlong—some with their sterns almost vertical above the water, others listing over to port or starboard, with steam and oil and air pouring out of the vents and rising to the surface long after the ships had completely disappeared beneath the water. DÉbris of all sorts, boats, hammocks, lifebelts, chests, etc., littered the sea for miles round. Small craft of all descriptions were variously engaged: here a drifter would be seen picking up Germans from the water, there a pinnace towing a long string of boats and Carley floats full of prisoners to the Flagship, whilst other craft were occupied heading off parties of Germans who were endeavouring to make for the shore. One or two amusing incidents occurred during the scuttling. One of our water-boats was busily engaged supplying water to one of the ships as she was sinking, and whilst the Germans were actually leaving the ship on the other side. Some school children from Stromness in the tug "Flying Kestrel" had the unique experience of a trip round the ships in the morning, which on their return journey were sinking or had disappeared.

By five or six o'clock the whole of the ships had sunk, except the battleship "Baden," which was boarded in time to save her, and three cruisers, which were run ashore or beached. The battle cruisers "Hindenburg" and "Seydlitz" drifted into shallow water, and with the cruiser "Bremse," which turned turtle as she was being beached, are resting on the bottom, and present a spectacle of interest to visitors as they pass in the Mail Boat to Stromness.

Such was the inglorious end of the German Fleet, and with its disappearance the Base began slowly to break up. One by one the ships went south, and the acquaintances of many years were severed. On 15th February, 1920, the Base reverted to a peace-time status, and the Admiral commanding the Orkneys and Shetlands (Vice-Admiral Sir R. J. Prendergast) hauled down his flag. Towards the end of the month and during March the salved German cruisers and destroyers were towed south to Rosyth for distribution amongst the Allied Powers, and on 25th March the last of the Base ships remaining, H.M.S. "Imperieuse" and H.M.S. "Victorious," left for Rosyth and Devonport respectively.

To-day not a vessel remains of that vast assemblage of ships which were gathered at the Base during the war, and Scapa will probably in future be an exercising base only for the Fleet as in pre-war times. But, whatever its future, the name of Scapa is one that has earned an undying fame in the history of the British Empire and of the world, and it will remain as an enduring memory to those who were destined by the chances of war to be exiled in those lonely islands of the North.