NAVAL SITUATION AT THE BEGINNING OF THE SECOND YEAR—SUBMARINE EXPLOITS

Naval events such as the world had never known were believed to be impending at the beginning of the war's second year. With the land forces of the belligerents in a fierce deadlock, it seemed that a decision must come upon the sea. Assuredly the Allies were willing, and Germany had accomplished things in her shipyards that for sheer determination and efficiency developed to the last degree, were comparable to her finest deeds of arms. None doubted that she longed with a grim hope for such a meeting. Helgoland and the newly enlarged Kiel Canal were hives where an intensive industry kept every man and vessel fit. And the navy grew while it waited.

It was not the work of a day, though, nor of a generation, to match the sea power that Great Britain had spent centuries in building. Try as she would, strain men, ordnance plants, and shipyards to the breaking point, Germany could not catch up with her great rival. The first half of the new year saw no matching of the grand fleets. It did produce a few gallant combats, and was marked by a melancholy succession of German submarine attacks on defenseless craft. The sacrifice of lives among neutrals and the Allies cast a pall upon the world.

Naval losses up to August 1, 1915, had been considerable on both sides without crippling any one of the belligerents. No sooner was a warship sunk than there were two to replace it. Every country engaged took effective steps to preserve such maritime power as it had, and Great Britain worked harder than any of the others, for her existence depended upon it.

The first year of the conflict cost England thirty-two fighting craft, great and small. France lost thirteen, Russia five, Japan three, a total of fifty-three. The combined tonnage was 297,178. To counterbalance this Germany lost sixty-seven war vessels, Turkey five and Austria four, the seventy-six ships having an aggregate tonnage of 206,100. The difference of 91,078 gross tons in favor of Germany and her partners in war was offset by the number of fast German cruisers which fell victims to the Allies, and by the numerical inferiority of the Central Powers' combined fleets.

On August 1, 1915, the naval situation was identical with that of August 1, 1914. Great Britain, aided materially by France, and her other allies, in a lesser degree, stood ready to do battle with the Teuton sea forces whenever opportunity offered. She had won every important engagement with the exception of the clash off the coast of Chile, and could look calmly forward, despite the gnawing of German submarines at her commerce. With every gun and man primed for the fight, with the greatest collection of armed vessels ever known lying at ports, merely awaiting the word, she felt supremely ready.

The lives of 1,550 persons were lost during the first year of the war through the sinking of merchant ships, nearly all of which were torpedoed. This applied to vessels of the Allies alone, twenty-two persons having been lost with neutral ships. The total of tonnage destroyed between February 18, 1915, when the German edict against commercial vessels went into effect, and August 1, 1915, was 450,000 tons, including 152 steamships of more than 500 tons each. This was the heaviest loss ever inflicted on the shipping of the world by any war. But it did not seriously cripple the commerce of either France or England, Germany's two major opponents. Their vessels continued to sail the seven seas, bringing the products of every land to their aid, while Germany and her allies were effectually cut off from practically all resources except their own. Switzerland and Sweden were the main dependence of Germany for contraband, and the activities of the former were considerably restricted when the Entente Allies really settled down to a blockade of Germany. Austria and impoverished Turkey had no friends to draw upon, but must fight their battles alone except for such assistance as Germany could lend, which did not extend beyond the actual material of war—guns, shells and bullets.

The submarine was Germany's best weapon. She outmatched the Allies on land, but in such a small degree that her most brilliant effort could not win a decisive victory. Meanwhile her opponents grew stronger in an economic way, while the situation in Germany became more strained. By issuing a constantly increasing volume of bank notes against an almost stationary gold reserve she depreciated the value of her mark at home and abroad. In the face of this tangled situation her submarines rendered incalculable aid, destroying and menacing allied commerce. Without them Germany would have been helpless upon the sea, would have ceased to exist as a maritime power. Her first-line ships lay securely in their harbors, unable to venture forth and match the longer-ranged, heavier-gunned vessels of the British, ably supplemented by the French fleet.

Just how many submarines Germany possessed at the beginning of the war cannot be stated. The number probably was in the neighborhood of fifty. That she has lost many of these vessels and built even a larger number is certain. As the conflict grew older Great Britain in particular learned a method of combating them. It was estimated that on August 1, 1915, she had 2,300 small craft specially fitted for running down submarines. Private yachts, trawlers, power boats, destroyers, and torpedo boats hunted night and day for the elusive undersea boats of her enemy. The pleasure and fishing craft which had been impressed into service were equipped with all sorts of guns, some of them very old ones, but thoroughly capable of sinking a submarine. These vessels patrolled the British coast with a zeal that cost Germany dear. Some authorities believed that up to August 1, 1915, upward of fifty German submarines had been sunk and more than a dozen captured. The numbers probably are excessive, but if they had disposed of even twenty-five undersea boats the effort was a distinct success.

In addition to this means of defense Great Britain embarked upon another undertaking that truly was gigantic in its extent and the difficulties imposed. She stretched wire nets for many miles under the surface of the waters washing her shores. The regular channel routes were thus guarded. Once within such a net there was no escape for the submarine. The wire meshes fouled their propellers or became entwined around the vessels in a way that rendered them helpless. The commander must either come to the surface and surrender or end the career of himself and crew beneath the waves. A number of submarines were brought to the surface with their crews dead by their own hands. Others were captured, and it is said that about twenty of these vessels have been commissioned in the British navy.

The hazardous character of the work in which the submarine engaged and the success of British defensive measures undoubtedly made it difficult for Germany to man her new undersea craft. Special training is essential for both crew and officers, and men of particularly robust constitution are required. There have been reports that men assigned to the German submarines regarded their selection as a practical death warrant. Despite the fine courage of German sailors as evidenced in this war, word filtered through the censorship that it was becoming difficult for Germany to secure men for her submarines.

But the venturesome spirit of many German submarine commanders knew no bounds. Previous to the period under consideration at least one submarine had made its way from a German base to the Dardanelles, establishing a record for craft of this sort that had seemed impossible up to that time. During August other submarines made the same trip without any untoward event. The Allies knew full well that reenforcements were being sent to the Mediterranean, but seemed unable to prevent the plan's success. This inability was to result in serious losses to both the allied navies and their merchant shipping. The first event during the month of August, 1915, that bore any naval significance was the sinking of the British destroyer Lynx on August 9, 1915, in the North Sea. She struck a mine and foundered within a few minutes. Four officers and twenty-two men out of a complement in the neighborhood of 100 were saved. The vicinity had been swept only a day or two before for mines and it was believed that a German undersea boat had strewn new mines which caused the loss.

Another British war vessel was sunk the next day. The auxiliary cruiser India fell prey to a submarine while entering the roads at Restfjord, Sweden, on the steamship lane between England and Archangel, Russia's northernmost port. Eighty of the crew, estimated at more than 300 men, were saved by Swedish craft. The attack came without warning and furnished another illustration of the submarine's deadly effectiveness under certain conditions. The India, a Peninsular and Oriental liner before the war, was well known to many travelers. Built in 1896, she had a registry of 7,900 tons, and was in the eastern service for a number of years.

After many months of idleness a clash came in the North Sea on August 12, 1915. The Ramsay, a small patrol vessel, met and engaged the German auxiliary Meteor. Although outmatched, the British ship closed with her foe and kept up the fight for an hour. The cannonade attracted a flotilla of cruisers, which came up too late to save the Ramsay, but which did succeed in cutting off the Meteor.

Four officers and thirty-nine members of the crew were picked up by the Germans when their antagonist went down and these, together with the crew of the Meteor, took to the German's boats when her commander saw that escape was impossible. He blew up his ship and by a combination of pluck, good seamanship, and a favorable fortune managed to elude the cordon of British cruisers, reaching the German shore with his prisoners. The total crew of the Ramsay was slightly more than 100 men.

Two successful attacks in four days on British war vessels, and the loss of a third by a mine, stirred official circles, and demand was made in the papers that redoubled precautions be taken. It was believed that the adventure of the Meteor into hostile waters heralded further activity by the German fleet, but the days passed without incident, and the British naval forces settled down to the old routine of watching and waiting.

While these events were transpiring in the North Sea the British had not been idle elsewhere. From the beginning of operations in the Dardanelles attempts had been made to penetrate the Bosphorus and sink one of the Turk's capital ships. A number of sailing vessels and one or two transports had been sunk by British submarines in that sea, but efforts to locate the larger warships of the enemy failed until August 9, 1915. On that day the Kheyr-ed Din Barbarossa, a battleship of 9,900 tons and a complement of 600 men, was sent to the bottom. The attack took place within the Golden Horn, at Constantinople, and the event spread consternation in the Turkish capital. It was the first time on record that a hostile warship had penetrated the land-locked waters of the Ottoman city, so favored by nature that attack had seemed impossible there.

The Barbarossa, although an ancient ship as war vessels are rated, carried four 12-inch guns and was a formidable fighting craft, having been overhauled by German engineers about a year before the war started. Along with the Goeben and Breslau, which took refuge at Constantinople on the outbreak of hostilities, and were "sold" to Turkey, she constituted the Turk's chief naval arm.

News of the feat was received with enthusiasm in England, coming as the initial achievement of the sort by a British submarine. It helped salve the wounds to British pride, made by repeated disasters through the medium of German undersea boats. The event was one of the few bright episodes from an Ally standpoint in the campaign to capture Constantinople, and was taken to mean that a new tide had set in for the attackers. It did serve to clear the Sea of Marmora of Turkish shipping, and supplies for the beleaguered forces at the tip of Gallipoli Peninsula were henceforth carried by a single track railway or transport. It also inspired a healthy respect among the Turks for enemy submarines. A few days later, August 16, 1915, another German submarine was to set a new record. Early in the morning of that day the towns of Whitehaven, Parton, and Harrington, on the western coast of England, were aroused in succession by the boom of guns and the falling of shells in their streets. It was believed for a few frenzied moments that the German fleet had come. But merely one lone submarine had made the attack. This was enough to cause considerable alarm, particularly when it was seen that a gas plant at Whitehaven had caught fire. There were other fires in the same town and at Harrington, none of which did much damage.

Once more the undersea boat of the enemy had scored. Not since 1778 had the towns smelled hostile powder. In that year John Paul Jones surprised the guards at Whitehaven during the night, spiked the guns of its defenses, and prepared to burn a number of ships at anchor there. The arrival of reenforcements frustrated this plan and the American seamen were recalled to their vessels. Whitehaven never forgot, and now it has a new chapter in its martial record.

The Turks were soon to have their revenge for the loss of the Barbarossa through the medium of a German submarine which, after more than a year of war, accomplished one of the cherished plans of the Germans—the sinking of a British troop ship. On August 17, 1915, the Royal Edward, registering 11,117 tons, was hit and sunk in the Ægean Sea. There were thirty-two officers and 1,350 troops aboard, in addition to 220 officers and men of the ship's company. One thousand were lost.

The blow was a hard one, coming after the efforts of the British navy to protect the country's fighting men. It emphasized the new activity by German submarines in the Mediterranean. No one believed for a moment that Austria had ventured upon such an extensive campaign as recent events pointed to. In addition to the one German submarine known to have reached the Dardanelles via Gibraltar, it had been reported that others were being brought overland to Pola and the parts assembled there. A good deal of mystery surrounds an engagement off the west coast of Jutland on this same August 17th. Berlin announced that a fight began at 2 o'clock in the afternoon between five German torpedo boats and a light British cruiser and eight destroyers. It was alleged that the cruiser and one destroyer foundered, without any loss to the German force.

The British Admiralty was vague in its report of the encounter, saying that the British ships were mine-sweepers, of which one failed to return. Like many other incidents of the war at sea, the real facts cannot now be established. But there is no doubt that a clash did take place, and the German report was the more circumstantial.[Back to Contents]