Gallipoli 14: Orchestrated Chaos

On 17 March 1915, just five days after his surprise appointment, General Sir Ian Hamilton landed at Lemnos. At first light the following morning, the day appointed for the big naval attack, he inspected the shore facilities at Mudros and found them ‘gravely wanting’. The Royal Navy cruiser Phaeton took him along the west coast of the Gallipoli peninsula to make a preliminary reconnaissance of possible landing sights. With the element of surprise gone, the Turks had been ‘furiously digging in’ [1] and every part of the coastline even remotely suitable for amphibious landings had been fortified by trenches and barbed wire. [2] Later that day Hamilton had a ringside seat on Phaeton’s bridge and observed the naval disaster unfold. He informed Kitchener by telegraph that Vice-Admiral de Robek was willing to ‘have another go’, but he personally considered it unlikely that the Dardanelles could be forced by battleships alone. A combined attack was essential, with a ‘deliberate and progressive military operation carried out at full strength’ to open a passage for the Navy. Kitchener replied that he should go ahead. [3]

This then was the situation on 21 March. Despite his losses, the naval commander believed that the Fleet could still break through the Dardanelles without help from the army, while the military commander was convinced that it could not. On 22 March De Robeck sailed the Queen Elizabeth to Lemnos for a conference with Hamilton. Much to the General’s surprise, the Vice-Admiral had changed his mind and agreed that the fleet could not prevail without military support. ‘There was no discussion’ Hamilton reported, ‘and we at once turned our faces to the land scheme.’ [4] De Robeck informed the Admiralty that he now considered a combined operation essential, but he could do nothing until the military force, scattered across the Mediterranean, was ready for action. [5]

Australian historian, Robin Prior explained that following the abortive naval operation, the War Council never reconvened to consider a military landing, which was approved by default. ‘There was no discussion, no plan, and no political authorisation’, and ‘this was in fact a worse situation than preceded the naval operation.’ [6] It certainly was, but Professor Prior, like many of his fellow academics, failed to appreciate that major decisions about Gallipoli were made, not by the War Council, but by a secret cabal. Churchill, Kitchener, Balfour, Grey, Hankey, Asquith, Haldane and others closely linked to the Secret Elite held regular meetings to decide the course of action. It would have been impossible otherwise to set the Gallipoli campaign up to fail. What mattered was that the Czar and Sazonov believed that they were trying to take Constantinople and the Straits for Russia. The crucial decisions were taken before the War Council met. Naval and military ‘advisers’ kept their counsel; their attendance was cursory.

The chaos which plagued the naval attack, overwhelmed the military operation. It was just as Churchill, Kitchener and Balfour intended. They had ‘buried’ the vast quantity of up-to-date intelligence which would have greatly assisted the commanders in the field. As General Hamilton noted in exasperation, ‘the Dardanelles and the Bosphorus might be in the moon for all the military information I have got to go upon…’. [7] Lack of detailed information was not the only problem. The late Robert Rhodes James wrote; ‘Never, in fact, was a gallant army so miserably mishandled by its chiefs as were the British and Dominion soldiers on Gallipoli. Never was a higher price paid for such a complete misunderstanding of a strategical situation.’ [8] Absolutely, but he never questioned why those ‘chiefs’ were chosen in the first place. They had selected second or third rate senior officers, not because outstanding men were unavailable, but because lack of ability and incompetence was exactly what was required to ensure failure.

Disheartened by the naval fiasco, the topography and the defences on the peninsula, General Hamilton crossed to Egypt on 24 March. His impossible task was to prepare a disparate force of mainly untried and untested recruits to take on the most difficult military operation in the field of warfare; landing an army from the sea in the face of an entrenched and well armed enemy. All the evidence of history demonstrated the advantage which defenders enjoyed unless the assault was accompanied by overwhelming force supported by an adequate artillery bombardment. [9] Hamilton had neither. He was additionally handicapped by the absence of his personal and logistics staff who had not even left England. [10]

It went from bad to worse. The Allied forces were scattered in confusion over much of the Mediterranean, and some Battalion commanders could not trace their companies. Such was the lack of preparation that even the simplest questions could not be answered. ‘Was there drinking water on Gallipoli? What roads existed? Were troops expected to fight in trenches or the open? What sort of weapons were required? What was the depth of water off the beaches? Were there strong currents? What sort of boats were needed to get the men, the guns and stores ashore? What casualties were to be expected, and how were they to be transferred to the hospital ships? [11]

Hamilton’s spirits sank under the pressure of ridiculous expectation. His diary entry for 5 April revealed a near broken man;

‘Time presses: K. prods us from the rear: the Admiral from the front. To their eyes we seem to be dallying amidst the fleshpots of Egypt whereas, really, we are struggling like drowning mariners in a sea of chaos; chaos in the offices; chaos on the ships; chaos in the camps; chaos along the wharves;’ [12]

Hamilton’s administrative staff did not arrive in Egypt until 11 April. In Alexandria they began their task in a dilapidated former-brothel without drainage, light or water. [13] A period of hectic improvisation began. Men were sent into the bazaars of Alexandria and Cairo to buy skins, oil drums, kerosene tins – anything that would hold water. There was also a shortage of guns, ammunition, aircraft and men. Hamilton later wrote that the War Office had sent them into battle with ‘museum pieces’. [14] In theory the British Divisions should have had 304 guns, but had only 118. Ammunition supplies were minimal. There were no periscopes for trench fighting, no hand grenades or trench mortars. Material to build piers and jetties was non-existent. In the absence of maps, staff officers scoured the shops for guide-books. Hamilton sent a series of messages to Kitchener asking for reinforcements, artillery and shells, but was met either with terse refusals or no reply at all. [15] He noted in his diary: ‘Special craft are being built back home for possible landings on the Baltic coast. Each lighter can carry 500 men and has bullet-proof bulwarks. They call them ‘beetles’. Landing from these would be child’s play. … I’ve asked K for the beetles myself.’ He was curtly refused. [16] While the shiny new flat-bottomed, bullet and shrapnel proof amphibious landing craft remained unused in Britain, many of his troops were to be slaughtered at Helles in open, wooden cutters.

Hamilton’s divisional commanders were far from enthusiastic. A surprise attack was clearly impossible. One officer stated, ‘To land would be difficult enough if surprise were possible but hazardous in the extreme under present conditions.’ [17] Secrecy was non-existent. The Egyptian press reported the arrivals of Allied forces and their proposed destination. [18] General d’Amade, commander of the French contingent, gave an interview in which he discussed the invasion plans at great length. [19] Indeed, he presented the enemy with a blueprint for the landings. [20] Allied activity in Egypt was closely observed by Turkish and German agents who were able to ‘deliver a complete Allied order of battle to the head of intelligence in Constantinople by the middle of March.’ [21] Sixty-five days elapsed between the first naval attack and the amphibious landings on 25 April during which time the Turkish defences were transformed. It was strategically, a ridiculous state of affairs.

The Greek government had suggested that 200,000 men would be required, and in January Kitchener had estimated 150,000, [22] but Hamilton could only count on half that number. They included 18,000 well-trained regulars (the 29th Division), 34,100 physically fit but raw Anzac troops, a ragbag Naval division of 11,000, and a French division of 20,000. Many of these soldiers had barely completed basic training and collectively they had never worked together. Most of the senior commanders were inexperienced and their staff had little practical knowledge of the appalling problems that would face them on a daily basis. ‘This was a disaster waiting to happen.’ [23] Marshall Joffre, the French C-in-C, was profoundly opposed to the whole operation and initially refused to provide troops, but political expediency forced his hand. [24] A French army officer, Colonel Maucorps, who had spent years in Turkey also opposed the attack, but like everyone with intimate knowledge of the subject, his protests were dismissed and his intelligence reports ignored. [25]

After much dithering, Kitchener had finally agreed to release the 29th Division. Its commander, Major-General F Shaw, had served with distinction at Mons and was considered a highly competent and ‘impressively professional soldier.’ Two days before embarkation, when continuity was all-important, Kitchener inexplicably replaced Shaw with Major-General Hunter-Weston. The man was a snobbish boor. He refused to travel in the ship he was allocated because it lacked first class accommodation, and demanded to be transferred to the luxury liner Andania. [26] Major-General Shaw suffered the same fate as Admiral Limpus. A highly competent and knowledgeable officer was rejected in favour of the laughing-stock of the British Army. [27] It was as if the esprit de corps of the 29th Division had been neutered. Spectacularly incompetent, Hunter-Weston was considered one of the most brutal commanders of the First World War. [28]

Preparations blundered on. Ships arrived from Britain without specific destinations. [29] Supplies were packed in the wrong order and chaos ensued. [30] Hamilton had no choice but to order some supply ships back 700 miles to Egypt to be unloaded and properly repacked. [31] Reorganisation of the equipment took more than a month, and partly explains why the Army was unable to land on Gallipoli soon after the naval disaster of 18 March. The blame for most of this chaos rested with Graeme Thomson, Director of Transport at the Admiralty. Churchill had personally appointed Thomson despite protests by senior officers. Admiral Oliver stated that Thomson knew all about the City but nothing of warfare. Had the far abler Vice-Admiral Slade been given the job, as recommended by admiralty insiders, ‘the transports for the Dardanelles would have been properly loaded and arrived in the proper order.’ [32] Yet again, an incompetent was deliberately appointed over a man fitted for the task.

The long delays made it impossible for Hamilton to co-ordinate a joint attack. While there was only one Turkish division based on Gallipoli during the naval assault, General Liman Von Sanders, the German military advisor in Turkey, increased the defensive strength to six divisions over the following months. [33] The Peninsula might have been taken by a combined operation in March, but the failure of the naval bombardments only served to warn the Turks that the Dardanelles had become a pressing target for the allies. Consequently, they reinforced the defences and held the upper hand. Confusion reigned supreme about the future roles of the army and navy. [34] In the end, the Navy was confined to a subsidiary supporting role, and a combined operation, the only approach which might have succeeded, [35] never materialised.

As widely advertised across the western mediterranean, a horror-show was on its way to Gallipoli.

[1] Harvey Broadbent, The Fatal Shore, p. 38.
[2] Dan Van Der Vat, The Dardanelles Disaster
[3] Robin Prior, Gallipoli, The End of The Myth, p. 68.
[4] Alan Moorehead, Gallipoli, p. 88.
[5] Ibid.
[6] Prior, Gallipoli, The End of The Myth, p. 68.
[7] Sir Ian Hamilton, Gallipoli Diary, vol. 1, 15 March, 1915 http://www.gutenberg.org/files/19317/19317-h/19317-h.htm#Page_127,
[8] Robert Rhodes James, Gallipoli, p. 21.
[9] Ellis Ashmead Bartlett, The Uncensored Dardanelles, pp. 39-40.
[10] Michael Hickey, Gallipoli, p. 77.
[11] Prior, Gallipoli, p. 242.
[12] Hamilton, Gallipoli Diary, vol. 1, 5 April 1915 http://www.gutenberg.org/files/19317/19317-h/19317-h.htm#Page_127,
[13] James, Gallipoli, p. 80.
[14] J. Laffin, The Agony of Gallipoli, p. 258-9.
[15] James, Gallipoli, p. 79.
[16] L.A. Carlyon, Gallipoli, p. 105.
[17] Moorehead, Gallipoli, pp. 117-118.
[18] Arthur J. Marder, From Dreadnought to Scapa Flow, vol 11, p. 258.
[19] Robert Rhodes James, Gallipoli, p. 79.
[20] Laffin, The Agony of Gallipoli, p. 40.
[21] Hickey, Gallipoli, p. 87.
[22] Marder, From Dreadnought to Scapa Flow, Vol. 11, p. 212.
[23] Peter Hart, Gallipoli, p. 56.
[24] Laffin, The Agony, p. 35.
[25] Edmond Delage, The Tragedy of the Dardanelles, p. 109.
[26] Hickey, Gallipoli, pp. 57-58.
[27] Denis Winter, Haig’s Command, p. 140.
[28] Prior, Gallipoli, p. 80.
[29] Laffin, The Agony, p. 31.
[30] Martin Gilbert, Winston S Churchill, vol 111, p. 297.
[31] Moorehead, Gallipoli, p. 90.
[32] Marder, From Dreadnought to Scapa Flow, Vol. 11, p. 238.
[33] Laffin, The Agony, p. 44.
[34] Tim Travers, Gallipoli, p. 38.
[35] Dan Van Der Vat, The Dardanelles Disaster, p. 136.

Gallipoli 13: Turkey! Where’s Turkey?

If the Admiralty’s planning for the seaborne attack had been poor, the organisation for the military campaign was shambolic. As Les Carlyon put it so succinctly, ’Instead of being planned for months in London, down to the last artillery shell and the last bandage, this venture was being cobbled up on the spot, and only after another enterprise, the naval attack, had failed.’ [1] The only operation of similar stature that could be compared with this lay thirty years ahead on the beaches of Normandy, and the planning for that amphibious landing took not three weeks, but nearly two years. [2] Ellis Ashmead-Bartlett, British war correspondent at Gallipoli, wrote that no country other than Great Britain would have attacked the Dardanelles without months of reflection and preparation by a highly trained general staff composed of the best brains of the army. He added, ‘Never have I known such a collection of unsuitable people to whom to entrust a great campaign, the lives of their countrymen, and the safety of the Empire. Their muddles, mismanagement, and ignorance of the strategy and tactics of modern war brought about the greatest disaster in English history.’ [3] Ashmead-Barlett had, of course, no inkling that the chaos was orchestrated; no idea that third rate commanders had been deliberately chosen to ensure that the campaign would not succeed.

Military leadership was barely functional. [4] The War Council had considered neither tactics nor logistics for an amphibious assault on the peninsula, and until 12 March 1915 had not even chosen a commander. General Sir Ian Hamilton, like Vice-Admiral Carden before him, was selected while eminently more suitable senior officers were overlooked. The genial Scot, then in the twilight of his career, had been Kitchener’s chief of staff during the last months of the Boer War. He was hamstrung by his long-subservient relationship [5] and never once did he challenge Kitchener’s authority. Hamilton was scared of him and the depth of his fear can be gauged from a comment he made in his diary about requesting more troops, ‘Really, it is like going up to a tiger and asking for a small slice of venison.’ Hamilton’s trepidation was based on his experience in South Africa where he witnessed Kitchener’s response to an officer’s appeal for reinforcements by removing half his troops. [6]

Hamilton later recalled how stunned he was when he first learned of his appointment. ‘Opening the door I bade him good morning and walked up to his desk where he went on writing like a graven image. After a moment he looked up and said in a matter of fact tone, ‘We are sending a military force to support the fleet now in the Dardanelles and you are to have command. At that moment K wished me to bow, leave the room and make a start … But my knowledge of the Dardanelles was nil, of the Turk nil, of the strength of my forces next to nil. … K, went on writing. At last he looked up again with, “Well?”’ [7] It is patently clear that Kitchener treated his Boer War subordinate with contempt.

Hamilton was told he would be leaving next day with his staff. ‘The politics of the war, especially those concerning Russia, were driving everything and time was of the essence’, [8] but neither Kitchener nor anyone else had any clear idea about what Hamilton was to do. General Callwell, Director of Military Operations, was brought into the office to give a cursory briefing. He advised that the Greek General Staff had recently studied the possibility of an amphibious landing on the Gallipoli peninsula and estimated that 150,000 men were essential if it was to stand any chance of success. Kitchener dismissed this as nonsense, telling Hamilton that half that number would do him handsomely. [9] Strange indeed, because just two days earlier at a War Council meeting Kitchener himself had stated that a force of 130,000 would be required. [10] Admiral Jacky Fisher, who correctly forecast disaster, had insisted that it would need 200,000 men. [11] Initially, only 75,000 were sent. That might have been enough men ‘for garrison duty around Constantinople and for raiding parties on the way there, but Hamilton didn’t have the numbers to make opposed landings against six Turkish divisions.’ [12] The number of men actually sent in the first instance was predicated on the fleet getting through to Constantinople, not on the numbers required for a successful amphibious attack after the navy had failed.

Kitchener was surely aware that 75,000 men would not be enough, but he assured Hamilton that if a British submarine ‘popped up’ opposite the town of Gallipoli and waved a Union Jack, ‘the whole Turkish garrison on the peninsula will take to their heels…’ [13] How typical of the arrogance and inbred racism of the British imperialist. Like the deferential schoolboy anxious not to provoke the wrath of an authoritarian headmaster, Hamilton didn’t ask for more men lest he upset Kitchener. [14]

He wasn’t the only officer taken aback by the proposed campaign. General Wolfe Murray, Chief of the Imperial General Staff (CIGS), and General Archibald Murray, (Depute CIGS) were then called into Kitchener’s office, together with Major-General Braithwaite who had been appointed as Hamilton’s Chief-of-Staff against his wishes. [15] Incredibly, none of these Staff Officers had heard of the Gallipoli scheme and ‘the Murray’s were so taken aback that neither of them ventured to comment.’ [16] They had been kept entirely in the dark. The plan was so secret that even the Chief of the Imperial General Staff had not been party to it. Why? How could such a major strategic development come as a surprise to officers at that level? Quite reasonably, Braithwaite ‘begged’ that the expedition be given a contingent of up-to-date aeroplanes, experienced pilots and observers, but Kitchener turned on him, ‘Not one!’ The spotter planes that were provided were old and so heavy that ‘the damned things could barely rise off the water’ and out of rifle range. [17]

Look at the common factors here. Just as Churchill had placed an old subservient Admiral in charge of an ageing fleet, so Kitchener appointed a similarly pliable General to take command of the military force. Both were inadequate and unfit for the task. Nothing that was valued was put at risk so they were instructed to operate with insufficient men and decrepit equipment. Once again, experienced officers who disagreed, said nothing.

Next morning, General Hamilton returned to the War Office for his final and only briefing. Kitchener had penned three different sets of instructions, none of which helped Hamilton understand the enemy, the politics or the country. He was left to his own devices. Thirteen officers had been hurriedly assembled to serve on his staff. Only one had seen active service in the war and one or two, according to Hamilton, had hastily put on a uniform for the first time in their lives with ‘Leggings awry, spurs upside down, belts over shoulder straps!’ He knew none of them. [18]

Hamilton sought up-to-date information about Gallipoli and the Turks from Military Intelligence but all he was given were two small tourist guidebooks on western Turkey, an out of date and inaccurate map that was not intended for military use, and a 1905 textbook on the Turkish Army. The Intelligence officers were unable to assist with any information on weather patterns in the region, and nobody had given thought to the sea currents that would cause such problems during the landings. Nobody could say how many enemy troops were on the peninsula, or name the Turkish and German commanders. [19] It was literally unbelievable.

It was also untrue. In fact, inside the Foreign Office, the War Office and the Admiralty, there were volumes of up-to-the-minute intelligence on Gallipoli and Constantinople gathered from missions, ambassadors and military and naval sources. Between 1911 and 1914, successive military attaches at Constantinople, and vice consuls posted to the Dardanelles at Chanak, had sent detailed intelligence reports on the Dardanelles defences to the War Office. These were never disclosed to Hamilton or his staff. Lieutenant-Colonel Charles Cunliffe-Owen, the British military attache at Constantinople had conducted a detailed survey of the Dardanelles and Gallipoli and on 6 September 1914, sent these highly accurate reports and assessments to General Callwell, Director of Military Operations at the War Office. [20] They included information on gun sites, minefields and the topography of the peninsula. Hamilton was clearly desperate for facts and figures about Gallipoli and the Dardanelles, yet General Callwell withheld the vital information he had received from Cunliffe-Owen. Here was the most senior officer who had studied the Dardanelles in the intelligence department before the outbreak of war, [21] had received Cunliffe-Owen’s reports, had access to all of the information gathered from a range of military personnel stationed in Constantinople and the Dardanelles, yet kept it from Hamilton. [22] Why did the War Office leave Hamilton to cull his facts from tourist guides and outdated maps? Why did General Callwell remain silent? There can be no rational reason other than he was ordered to. His silence would otherwise have equated to treason.

Had the War Office tried to furbish Hamilton with expert advice and local knowledge, Admiral Limpus’s reports would have been brought from the Admiralty; Ambassador Mallet could have advised him in person. Had they wanted him to have the benefit of detailed military intelligence, Cunliffe-Owen would have been included among his staff officers. He was one of very few who had seen Gallipoli on the ground. Why was his wealth of knowledge and experience unwelcome?

Before Hamilton set off for the eastern Mediterranean on 13 March, on HMS Foresight, he went to say goodbye to his former chief, but Kitchener did not even wish him good luck. [23] Hamilton was equipped with little more than enthusiasm and wishful thinking. No attempt had been made to co-ordinate intelligence about the defences at Gallipoli, not even at strategic level, and he had been given no indication of Government policy, priorities or plans. [24] According to the principles laid down in Field Service Regulations, he should have been given an outline plan of the operations he had been tasked to undertake. This was the clear responsibility of General Wolfe Murray, the CIGS, and General Callwell, Director of Military Intelligence, but no plan was produced and all detailed up-to-date intelligence was withheld.

Ian Hamilton was chosen to command the operation for the following reasons: (1) He was considered incapable of performing the task. (2) He knew nothing of Gallipoli or its defences. (3) He would never challenge Kitchener’s orders, no matter how outrageous. (4) Like Admiral Carden, he made the perfect patsy when the Gallipoli campaign failed. It has been suggested that, from the outset, Hamilton was the victim of gross dereliction of duty on the part of the General Staff, [25] but it went much deeper than that. Make no mistake, this was no act of stupidity, dereliction of duty, or a ‘cock-up’. Hamilton did not appreciate it, but without a combined operation with the navy and at least 150,000 well equipped troops, he could never succeed. He was not appointed to succeed. Consider this; ‘At a moment’s notice he had been given an impossible task to perform, and somehow or other he must perform it. It wasn’t bricks without straw – it was bricks without clay, straw, kiln, hod, or anything else.’ [26]

[1] L.A. Carlyon, Gallipoli, p. 72.
[2] Alan Moorehead, Gallipoli, p. 116.
[3] Ellis Ashmead-Bartlett, The Uncensored Dardanelles, p. 14 and pp. 247-8.
[4] Robin Prior, Gallipoli, p. 67.
[5] Peter Hart, Gallipoli, p. 63.
[6] J. Laffin, The Agony of Gallipoli, p. 43.
[7] Ibid., p. 33.
[8] Harvey Broadbent, Gallipoli, The Fatal Shore, p. 37.
[9] Laffin, The Agony, p. 34.
[10] Carlyon, Gallipoli, p. 60.
[11] Ibid., p. 54.
[12] Carlyon, Gallipoli, p. 86.
[13] Laffin, The Agony, p. 34.
[14] Carlyon, Gallipoli, p. 87.
[15] Laffin, The Agony, p. 35.
[16] Sir Ian Hamilton, Gallipoli Diary, Vol 1, Chapter 1, 14 March 1915. http://www.gutenberg.org/files/19317/19317-h/19317-h.ht
[17] John North, Gallipoli, The Fading Vision, p. 247.
[18] Moorehead, Gallipoli, pp. 82-83.
[19] Laffin, The Agony, p. 35.
[20] Michael Hickey, Gallipoli, p. 28.
[21] T.R. Moreman, Callwell, Sir Charles Stewart, 1859-1928, Oxford Dictionary of National Biography, 2008.
[22] Laffin, The Agony, pp. 12-13.
[23] Moorehead, Gallipoli, p. 83.
[24] Laffin, The Agony, p. 30.
[25] Hickey, Gallipoli, p. 68.
[26] John Hargrave, The Suvla Bay Landing, p. 29.

Gallipoli 10: It’s All For You

On 6 January 1915 Winston Churchill sent a telegraph to the commander of the Mediterranean fleet, Vice-Admiral Sackville-Carden asking how many ships he needed to break through the Dardanelles and how he would go about it? In his response five days later Carden suggested a force of 12 battleships, three battle-cruisers, three light cruisers, 16 destroyers, six submarines, four seaplanes and 12 minesweepers. In addition, he required a dozen support vessels. Surely but subtly, responsibility for the operation that could never succeed was passed to Carden.

What he proposed was not so much a plan as the order in which the ships might attack the Dardanelles forts, [1] but from that moment on, Churchill presented Carden’s list as if it was a carefully considered strategic plan. The old Vice-Admiral imagined that battleships would first bombard the outer forts guarding the entrance to the Dardanelles from a long distance. Minesweepers would then clear a passage for the battleships to progressively bombard the defences as they advanced. Despite all the expert advice to the contrary, it would be oh so simple. The only thing he did get right was that the attack could be hindered by mediterranean gales which were frequent at that time of the year. Kept in ignorance, Carden believed that naval gunnery could do the job. He had never been given sight of the vast amount of credible naval intelligence and opinion which agreed that the only way to put the the Dardanelles forts out of action was the landing of troops in considerable numbers.

At a meeting of the War Council on 13 January, Churchill unveiled the Carden ‘plan’. There was little discussion. Crucially important issues were ignored. Kitchener, who was still refusing to allocate troops for a joint attack, thought it ‘worth trying’ and there were no dissenting voices. [2] Senior military and naval figures were never asked for their opinions nor did they volunteer their views. Most disagreed with Churchill and Kitchener but ‘loyally’ put obedience to Service etiquette first. [3] Their expertise was rendered irrelevant. Sir Edward Grey saw ‘great political prospects.’ Arthur Balfour said it was difficult to imagine ‘a more useful operation.’ [4] Which ‘expert’ would risk his career questioning the Secret Elite?

Churchill pushed ahead, but in an astonishing minute to Asquith, Grey and Kitchener on 14 January he stated that unless ‘adequate military force is forthcoming to storm and hold the forts after the bombardment, there are no means of producing good results.’ This was a crucial admission. Churchill knew that the Dardanelles’ forts could not be put out of action without adequate military assistance. The political threat from Russia had become so immediate that he was prepared to sanction an attack and ignore the critical issue that it could not succeed. [5] Even if one or two battleships made it through to the Sea of Marmara, their impact would be seriously limited without back-up and supplies Their only course of action would be to run the gauntlet back through the minefields and remaining defences to the Aegean Sea.

Expert opinion at the Admiralty was virtually unanimous. Admiral Sir Henry Jackson advised Churchill that the first stage of Carden’s plan might succeed in destroying the outer forts but warned that the Turks had at least 200 Krupp guns of 6-inch and above and that all of them had to be silenced. These great guns were mobile, well concealed and protected from direct naval gunfire. They could only be destroyed by troops on the ground. [6] Experts on the War Council told Churchill that warships were much less accurate than shore-based batteries, but ‘he so bewitched them they were reduced to supine or servile acquiescence in a scheme which they knew was based upon a series of monstrous technical fallacies’. [7] It was not Turkish military competence that worried the Admirals, but the sanity of what they were being asked to achieve. [8] Knowing it would fail, the Secret Elite-dominated War Council approved Carden’s ‘plan’. He was ordered to prepare for an expedition in February ‘to bombard and take the Gallipoli Peninsula with Constantinople as its objective.’ It was absurd.

These plans were set without Russia’s knowledge. How would she respond? Control of the Dardanelles had long been a political minefield. The Foreign Office anticipated that the Russians might suspect British duplicity. On 16 January, Sir Edward Grey warned, ’we must say something to Russia, not necessarily in detail, or she will think we are stealing a march to forestall her ambitions at Constantinople. The peg to hang our communication on would be the Grand Duke’s appeal to us some days ago to make a diversion to prevent Turkish pressure in the Caucasus.’ [9] In other words the Foreign Office planned to use the Grand Duke’s so-called ‘appeal’, the suggestion made to him by Hanbury-Williams, to justify their actions. The sense of it all was that ‘we are doing this for you’, but they were not. The Secret Elite were indeed, as Grey spelled out, doing it to forestall Russia’s ambitions at Constantinople. Churchill wrote to the Grand Duke on 19 January saying that in response to his ‘request’, Britain would make a serious effort to break down Turkish opposition. [10] Churchill generously suggested that Russian naval and military involvement would be valuable, knowing full well that they had no resources to spare. The Grand Duke welcomed the British operation, but confirmed that neither Russian naval nor military support was available. [11] The Secret Elite’s real plan was unwittingly given the stamp of Imperial approval by the Russian Commander-in-Chief.

Sazonov was not so gullible. The Russian Foreign Minister later recalled that when the British Ambassador informed him of the proposed expedition, ‘I had difficulty in concealing how painfully the news had affected me. I intensely disliked the thought that the Straits and Constantinople might be taken by our Allies and not by Russian forces.’ [12] It indicated the extent of Sazonov’s justified mistrust. Would they meet Russian expectations if no Russian troops were present? [13] Sazonov immediately asked the Russian commanders at Stavka if they could take part in the occupation of the Straits. Anticipating a negative answer he asked ‘if it might not be better to request our Allies, in view of the change in our favour in the Causcasian situation, to delay the intended actions against the Dardanelles.’ He smelled a rat, but was reassured by Quartermaster-General Danilov that capture of the Straits by the Allied navy was almost impossible. [14]

In London, First Sea Lord Admiral Fisher noted: ‘apparently the Grand Duke Nicholas has demanded this step, or I suppose he would make peace with Germany.’ Fisher added, ‘I just abominate the Dardanelles operation unless a great change is made and it is settled to be a military operation, with 200,000 men in conjunction with the Fleet.’ Fisher wanted joint operations or no operation at all. [15] On 25 January he asked Churchill to circulate his views to members of the War Council but neither the Prime Minister nor any of the others had asked for his opinion or objections. [16] His views were ignored as were those of Victor Augagneur, former Minister for the French Navy. At a meeting in London on 26 January he informed Churchill that French Naval Intelligence believed that a purely maritime operation was unlikely to achieve anything. French Intelligence officers insisted that the way must first be cleared by military operations. Augagneur, like Fisher, was wasting his breath. Although they lost ships and men in the campaign, all decisions on the Dardanelles-Gallipoli attack were taken without a French voice in strategy and tactics. They were merely kept informed [17]

At the War Council meeting on 28 January, Fisher bluntly stated his objections and rose from the table intending to resign. Kitchener followed and talked him into returning. Churchill later took Fisher to his office for private talks and in the end he consented to take part. We shall never know what was said to Fisher to make him reconsider, but Churchill could later claim that everyone at the Admiralty was now in agreement with the plan. [18] That was untrue.

The attack on the Dardanelles was not undertaken for military gain but for political expediency. It was conceived in haste to ensure Russia’s continued commitment to the war, but crafted to protect long-term British Imperial ambitions in the Middle and Near East. Seen purely as a military objective the Dardanelles expedition was stunningly ill-advised and bound to fail. As a political gesture to keep Russia in the war it was deceptively brilliant.

[1] Robin Prior, Gallipoli, The End of The Myth, p. 18.
[2] Alan Moorehead, Gallipoli, p. 40.
[3] J. Laffin, The Agony of Gallipoli, p. 15.
[4] Moorhead, Gallipoli, p. 41.
[5] Graham T. Clews, Churchill’s Dilemma, p. 117.
[6] Ibid., pp. 118-9.
[7] Moorehead, Gallipoli, p. 46.
[8] Peter Hart, Gallipoli, p. 23.
[9] Clews, Churchill’s Dilemma, pp. 119-20.
[10] Ibid.
[11] Ibid.
[12] W.W. Gottlieb, Studies in Secret Diplomacy, pp. 88-89.
[13] Ronald P. Bobroff, Roads to Glory, Late Imperial Russia and the Straits, p. 126.
[14] Gottlieb, Studies, p. 90.
[15] Clews, Churchill’s Dilemma, pp. 124-26.
[16] Laffin, The Agony of Gallipoli, p. 22.
[17] Ibid., p. 24.
[18] Moorehead, Gallipoli, pp 48-50.

Gallipoli 9: Reaping What You Sow

The conundrum facing the Secret Elite and their men in the War Council was fraught with difficulties. Russia had to be reassured; had to be kept in the war but kept out of the Straits. While Russia’s focus was fixed on Constantinople, Sazonov knew that the Czar’s armies could take neither the city nor the Straits. Emotionally it was their Achille’s heel, an issue so sensitive that the Secret Elite had to urgently deliberate on how they could use it to keep Russia from defection. What best to do?

The man tasked by the Secret Elite to conjure the Gallipoli initiative was Lieutenant-Colonel Maurice Hankey. Secretary of the War Council, and a trusted inner-circle member of the secret cabal. [1] He was a strategist to whom they listened carefully. Hankey spent the whole of Xmas Day considering options they might take. His report, which was typed up next day became known as the ‘Boxing Day Memo’. [2] It proposed an operation against the Dardanelles and suggested that Britain should move three army corps to participate with Greece and other Balkan states in a combined naval and military attack. [3] Note the date; Boxing Day 1914. It was an idea that needed to be carefully considered in view of Russian sensitivities.

Sir Edward Grey was concerned that Greek involvement would upset the Russians so much that they ‘might well change sides in the war.’ [4] This demonstrated how critical and dangerous the whole issue of the ownership of Constantinople had become. Serious though it would be if Russia signed a peace treaty with the enemy, Grey’s fear that she might join forces with Germany against Britain and France sharpened their minds. Arthur Balfour, the sole conservative politician on the War Council and a senior member of the Secret Elite’s inner-core, [5] immediately pointed to ‘the menacing question of Constantinople’ and who would own the city. [6] And this was the nub of the problem; Russia would not countenance anyone else ‘owning’ Constantinople. But, would she accept British and French troops taking the city on her behalf? Perhaps, if the Russians were led to believe that this was what they wanted; that it was their idea in the first place.

The Secret Elite had the very man in place in Petrograd to subtly influence them, Brigadier-General Sir John Hanbury-Williams. He had served in South Africa under the cabal’s leader, Lord Milner, with whom he kept in regular contact [7] and in Canada with Earl Grey, a member of the Secret Elite’s inner core. [8] Hanbury-Williams was identified by Professor Carroll Quigley as one of Milner’s Kindergarten, men at the very heart of the Secret Elite. [9] His ancestry gave him access to the Russian Imperial family and he was considered the Czar’s ‘sincere friend’. [10]

On 30 December he met with the Grand Duke Nicholas, Commander-in-Chief of the Russian army and used the opportunity to plant the idea of a British intervention against Turkey in his mind. ‘I asked him, in the event of it being possible, whether he thought a naval demonstration [against Turkey ] would be of any use. He jumped at it gladly.’ [11] How clever. One week after Hankey and his Secret Elite compatriots had considered how they would carefully advance their strategy for the Dardanelles, Hanbury-Williams just happened to broach the subject with the Grand Duke.

With a growing anti-war element, civil unrest was still close to the surface and revolution was a realistic fear in the minds of the Russian leaders. The Commander-In-Chief’s thoughts were focused on Russia’s fragile domestic morale. He did not even mentioned the Dardanelles. [12] Whatever was said was subtly transformed into an appeal for help from the Grand Duke. Hanbury-Williams noted in his diary that ‘this conversation was really the origin of what eventually developed into the Dardanelles operation.’ [13] Absolutely so, but the seed was sown by the Secret Elite, not by the Grand Duke.

Late on 1 January 1915, Sir George Buchanan, the British Ambassador at Petrograd and one of the Secret Elite’s diplomatic enforcers, [14] sent a telegram to London stating that Grand Duke Nicholas had asked Britain for help to relieve pressure on his army fighting in the Caucasus. Before any action could be taken that problem solved itself. When the Ottomans attacked Sarikamish on 29 December they lost 30,000 men to a Russian counter attack. Enver Pasha, the questionable Turkish Minister of War, ordered his troops to abandon their great coats and packs before struggling over 10,000 feet high mountain passes in atrocious winter conditions. Many froze to death, and less than 18,000 Turks survived. It was an absolute disaster. As with many of his decisions, Enver’s judgment was either profoundly stupid or served some other purpose. In this instance his military incompetence changed the political picture. Within days the Turkish threat had been crushed, and ‘any plan to force the Dardanelles… ought to have died a fairly quick death.’ [15] In truth, there was never any need for a British ‘demonstration’ in Turkey to help Russia. The telegram and all that followed was part of the Secret Elite’s game-plan.

Kitchener discussed the next step with Churchill. He pointed out that there were no troops available for another front. [16] If there was to be an intervention it would have to be naval. [17] That same day, Kitchener sent a telegram to Petrograd, ‘Please assure the Grand Duke that steps will be taken to make a demonstration against the Turks.’ The War Council magnanimously endorsed its own idea. Churchill later recalled, ‘It was the least that could have been said in answer to a request of a hard-pressed Ally.’ [18] He ignored the fact that the Russians had already crushed the Turkish army in the Caucasus.

On 3 January First Sea Lord, Admiral Fisher, sent a note to Churchill saying that an attack by the navy could not succeed. He advocated a joint naval and military campaign with warships forcing the Dardanelles while large military forces were landed on both the Asian and European shores. [19] Admiral Frederick Tudor, Third Sea Lord, also told Churchill that the navy could not do this on its own. [20] This was not what he wanted to hear. He sought other opinions, including those of Admiral Jackson who thought that he would be ‘mad to try and get into the Sea of Marmora without having the Gallipoli peninsula held by our own troops or every gun on both sides of the Straits destroyed.’ Churchill was very careful not to show this to his colleagues in the War Council. [21] Determined to find the answer he wanted, Churchill worked his way down through the Admiralty ranks. He telegraphed Vice-Admiral Carden, Commander of the Mediterranean Squadron. Was the forcing of the Dardanelles by ships a practicable operation? This time he added a point which was meant to bias the response. ‘Importance of the results would justify severe loss.’

Eager to please, Carden replied cautiously On 5 January: ‘I do not think that the Dardanelles can be rushed, but they might be forced by extended operations with a large number of ships.’ Churchill had at last found a semblance of naval support. Next day Churchill assured the Vice-Admiral that, ‘high authorities here concur in your opinion’ and asked what number of ships he would need. The Vice-Admiral assumed that the ‘high authorities’ included the Admiralty representatives on the War Council, Admirals Fisher and Sir Arthur Wilson, [22] Churchill duped Carden in order to get the response he wanted. No ‘high authorities’ had agreed with his opinion. None of them. First Sea Lord Fisher had bluntly stated that the navy could not take the Dardanelles, while Admiral Wilson had neither been asked for, nor proffered, an opinion.

If all of this was above above board, surely Churchill would have turned to the Admiralty’s expert on the Ottoman Navy, Rear-Admiral Limpus. Here was the former head of the British naval mission in Constantinople, the man who ‘knew the Turks and the Dardanelles’ defences intimately’, [23] and ‘all their secrets’. [24] Yet Churchill shunned him. Why? The stark truth is he knew that Rear-Admiral Limpus, like Admirals Fisher, Tudor and Jackson, was opposed to his plan. [25] Limpus believed that the first stage of any attack on the Dardanelles had to be be an amphibious landing. [26] It could not be undertaken by the navy alone.

This was not the first time that such views had been clearly expressed. In 1906, the Admiralty considered a naval assault on the Dardanelles, too risky, [27] concluding that it would ‘have to be undertaken by a joint naval and military expedition,’ [28] Churchill himself agreed in 1911 that it was ‘no longer possible to force the Dardanelles.’ [29] Four years later it had become so imperative that he canvassed opinion across the higher echelons of the navy until he found the answer he wanted. Vice-Admiral Carden knew nothing of the wide consensus of opposition to a purely naval assault on the Dardanelles. He had been reassured that ‘people in high authority’ agreed with his assessment. Poor Carden. The man asked to prepare a naval attack on the Dardanelles was the one with least knowledge. He was denied access to the vast quantity of intelligence which had been gathered on the Dardanelles defences by Admiral Limpus, Ambassador Mallet and others.

Carden was set up to be the perfect patsy when the plan failed, for fail it must.

[1] Carroll Quigley, The Anglo-American Establishment, pp.153-160 and p. 313.
[2] Stephen Roskill, Hankey, Vol.1 1897-1918, p. 148.
[3] Ronald P. Bobroff, Roads to Glory, Late Imperial Russia and the Straits, p 125.
[4] David Fromkin, A Peace to End All Peace, p. 127.
[5] Quigley, The Anglo-American Establishment, p. 312.
[6] Roskill, Hankey, p. 150.
[7] Terence O’Brien, Milner, p. 267.
[8] Quigley, The Anglo-American Establishment, p. 312.
[9] Ibid., p. 52 and 56.
[10] John Hanbury-Williams, The Emperor Nicholas II As I Knew Him, Diary in Russia, pp. 22-5.
[11] Ibid., p. 24.
[12] Sean McMeekin, The Russian Origins of the First World War, p. 129.
[13] Hanbury-Williams, The Emperor Nicholas II, p. 24.
[14] Gerry Docherty and Jim Macgregor, Hidden History, The Secret Origins of the First World War, p. 280.
[15] Graham T Clews, Churchill’s Dilemma, p. 60.
[16] Winston Churchill, World Crisis 1915, p. 94.
[17] Peter Hart, Gallipoli, p. 15.
[18] Churchill, World Crisis 1915, p. 93.
[19] Robert Rhodes James, Gallipoli, p. 27.
[20] Tim Travers, Gallipoli, p. 22.
[21] Edmond Delage, The Tragedy of the Dardanelles, pp. 27-28.
[22] Henry W. Nevison, The Dardanelles Campaign, p. 25.
[23] B.H. Liddell Hart, History of the First World War, p. 213.
[24] Alan Moorehead,  Gallipoli, p. 60.
[25] Harvey Broadbent, Gallipoli, The Fatal Shore, p. 21.
[26] John Laffin, The Agony, p. 9.
[27] Memorandum by the General Staff, 19 December 1906, National Archives, PRO.  CAB/4/2/92.
[28] Michael Hickey, Gallipoli, p. 28.
[29] James, Gallipoli, pp. 3-4.

Gallipoli 8: Trouble With Russia

Once the immediate German threat to Paris had passed, and the Western Front stuck fast in what would become a four year-long stalemate of miserable trench warfare, London was faced with a serious problem. The Russians had been badly beaten on the Eastern Front. They had invaded Germany’s eastern borders but were driven back by the German defensive-offensive at the Battle of Tannenberg and the first Battle of the Masurian Lakes. Despite outnumbering the German Eighth Army under von Hindenberg and Ludendorf by almost two to one, the Russians had lost some 300,000 men by the middle of September 1914. Rather than face the wrath of the Czar, General Alexander Samsonov shot himself.

Russian morale plummeted. Such heavy and unexpected losses only six weeks into the war drained their enthusiasm. With the way to Constantinople blocked by the Goeben, some of the Czar’s advisors began to consider an armistice with Germany. [1] If Russia threw in the towel, Britain and France faced disaster. This was not part of the grand strategy envisaged by the Secret Elite. The possibility of a victorious German army switching from the Eastern to the Western Front sent shivers down the spine of Whitehall. London became preoccupied with the need to support an increasingly reluctant Russia to hold fast to the war. Make no mistake, Russia was in this war and prepared to sacrifice her young men for one reason, the acquisition of Constantinople and the Straits. How were the Secret Elite to deal with this? Russia’s ambitions cut across British and French post-war imperial intentions and could never be genuinely countenanced.

Russian control of Constantinople made no long term strategic sense. Indeed, two centuries of relentless insistence that Russia had to be kept out of Constantinople underpinned the fact that in truth, ‘the Allies would try anything to stop Russia gaining Istanbul and the Bosphorus.’ [2] The French wanted Syria; Britain wanted Persia and just about everywhere else. Dozens of schemes took shape in the corridors of power in London and Paris which were bound to be obstructed if Constantinople was in Russian hands.

French fears were later expressed by President Poincare in a letter to his Ambassador in Petrograd: ‘Possession of Constantinople and its vicinity would not only give Russia a sort of privilege in the inheritance of the Ottoman Empire. It would introduce her, via the Mediterranean, into the concert of western nations and this would give her, via the open sea, the chance to become a great naval power. Everything would thus be changed in the European equilibrium…’ Poincare’s great fear was that once Germany had been defeated, Russia would have little reason to adhere to the Franco-Russian Alliance, and as a result, its naval expansion would not serve French interests. [3]

The annual Guildhall Banquet which the City of London lavished on its political leaders on Monday 9 November reached truly iconic status in terms of British duplicity. Churchill promised that a blockade would bring Germany to her knees in six, nine or twelve months, and promptly failed to take the action required. Kitchener announced that ‘the men are responding splendidly…but I shall want more’, but Prime Minister Asquith told the greatest lie. He claimed that, despite all his government’s efforts to safeguard Turkish neutrality, ‘it is they and not we who have wrung the death-knell of Ottoman dominion, not only in Europe, but also in Asia. The Turkish Empire has committed suicide and dug its grave with its own hand.’ [4] No Russian Imperialist could have said it better. The Ottoman empire was scheduled for demolition. [5] It would be torn apart under the guise of suicide.

In November 1914 Russian Foreign Secretary Sazonov notified Count Benckendorff, his Ambassador in London, that Russian troops operating against Turkey would be compelled to violate Persian neutrality. Foreign Secretary Sir Edward Grey immediately issued a ‘hands off’ dictum stating that a Russian incursion into the neutral Moslem country would provoke anti-Entente ferment among the Mohammedans of the East. Just two days later Britain landed her own troops at the head of the Persian Gulf. They occupied the oilfields near Ahwaz, and advanced on the Turkish town of Basra, capturing it on 22 November. [6] Apparently a Russian invasion of Persia would excite religious tensions among Muslims, but a British attack was perfectly acceptable. The hypocrisy was stunning.

Benckendorff cabled Petrograd that, entirely unprompted, King George V had told him that ‘as concerns Constantinople, it is clear that it must be yours.’  The ruse worked a treat. The Czar was elated. [7] Sazonov abandoned his designs on Persia. He had the King-Emperor’s word, [8] but the British government immediately pursued its interests further. Although the prizes were supposedly predicated on a German defeat, Britain informed Sazonov that they intended to annex Egypt, still nominally inside the Ottoman Empire, and replace the pro-Turkish Khedive with a sympathetic figure-head. The Russians agreed to the British takeover of Egypt in the belief that this was a step towards their inevitable march to Constantinople. Czar Nicholas thought it ‘excellent’. [9] In terms of grand geopolitical scheming and diplomatic double dealing the Czar was utterly naïve. He had been cajoled into continuing in the war, but the burning question was, for how long?

Sazonov was not so readily reassured. He felt that the time had finally come to  resolve the question of the Straits. It was now or never. Like many others in Petrograd he was unwilling to wait until the end of the war for complete Russian control of Constantinople, including both sides of the Bosphorus and the Sea of Marmara. [10] The great dream was to take both European and Asian banks of the Dardanelles which would be the springboard to even greater imperial acquisitions. This and this alone justified the terrible sacrifices which were being made on the Eastern Front.

On 21 December Sazonov wrote to his Chief of Staff, General Yanushkevich, that it was imperative that Russia took the Straits, and that it could ‘not be achieved by diplomatic action alone.’ He wanted to know ‘what military operations had been decided upon for the actual penetration and seizure of the Narrows and their environs?’ The answer was not what he wanted. The Black Sea Fleet, short of dreadnoughts, fast mine-layers and modern submarines, was barely on a par with the Turkish Navy, and the loss of one or two vessels would upset the precarious balance. Above all, the Russian generals were bound by long-standing agreement to concentrate efforts on the Eastern Front. Yanushkevich answered Sazonov on 25 December: ‘In the present circumstances … the question of allocating special forces for taking possession of the Straits cannot be raised until we have achieved a decisive success over our Western enemies’. [11]

Sazonov was faced with the stark reality; Russia was currently unable to take Constantinople. His expectations had been totally unrealistic, but the Secret Elite were, as ever, much better informed. The British Military Attache at Petrograd, Colonel Alfred Knox was an astute observer and by December 1914 his reports worried Kitchener. While the Grand Duke Nicholas, Commander-in-Chief of the Russian army, and the Minister of War, remained outwardly confident (Churchill described it as blind or guilty optimism) [12] Knox spoke of the criticisms he heard from Russian commanders who believed that the delayed French offensive was caused by the ‘diabolical cunning’ of the other allied governments who wanted Russia to ‘waste her strength so that she may not emerge too strong from the war.’ [13] Lack of guns and ammunition and disorganised communication left the Russian army incapable of a serious offensive. [14] and the 6th Army at Petrograd trained new recruits with only one rifle to three men. [15] There was an almost suicidal culture in Russian military circles of representing situations in a falsely favourable light but increasingly, the need to make peace with the Germans was voiced by high-ranking Generals. [16] Accusations were made that the burden of the war was being borne unequally by Russia; that Britain was not committing sufficient men to the front. [17]

The British government began to have ‘grave forebodings’ that the Russian armies, hamstrung and paralysed by the lack of munitions, might collapse entirely and ‘be forced into a separate peace.’ Churchill believed that such a disaster could be averted if Britain and France encouraged Russia ‘to dwell upon the prizes of victory.’ [18] He knew, as did every member of the Secret Elite, that the ‘prizes of victory’, namely control of Constantinople and the Straits, were prizes Russia could never be allowed to win. What was said was not what was intended.

This was the background to Gallipoli; the appearance of supportive action which could never be allowed to deliver the stated objective, Constantinople. By the end of 1914 Russia had lost over 1,350,000 killed, wounded or missing, and the arms shortage was beginning to paralyse her operations on the Eastern Front. Only the prospect of seizing Constantinople could keep the mouzhik [peasants] in the trenches. As long as Russia believed that her allies were fully engaged in a battle to take the Straits for them, their war effort had purpose.

The Secret Elite had to conjure an initiative which gave the illusion of support and promised glittering success so that Russia would continue the struggle.

[1] Harvey Broadbent, Gallipoli, One Great Deception? http://www.abc.net.au/news/2009-04-24/30630%5D
[2] Ibid.
[3] Ronald P. Bobroff, Roads to Glory, Late Imperial Russia and the Straits, p. 122.
[4] The Times, 10 November 1914, p. 9.
[5] Sean McMeekin, The Russian Origins of The First World War, p. 123.
[6] Martin Gilbert, Winston S Churchill, p. 221.
[7] McMeekin, The Russian Origins, p. 123.
[8] W.W. Gottlieb, Studies in Secret Diplomacy, pp. 68–70.
[9]  Ibid., pp 74-75.
[10] Bobroff, Roads to Glory, pp. 120-121.
[11] Gottlieb, Studies, p. 75.
[12] Winston Churchill,World Crisis, p. 296.
[13] Sir Alfred Knox, With the Russian Army, 1914-1917, 1 December 1914, p. 193.
[14] Ibid., p. 213.
[15] Ibid., p. 217.
[16] Ibid., p. 220.
[17] Ibid., pp. 352-3.
[18] Winston S. Churchill, The World Crisis, 1911-1918, vol. 1., pp. 296-298

Gallipoli 7: Goading Turkey

Once Souchon and his warships were assimilated into the Turkish navy, Rear-Admiral Sir Arthur Limpus, who had been the naval advisor to the Turkish government for two years, was withdrawn from his mission by Churchill on 9 September 1914. Limpus knew the precise details of all the Dardanelles defences and had a prodigious knowledge of every aspect of Turkish naval planning. [1] Logically, he was the prime candidate in every sense for the post of Commander in Chief of the Mediterranean fleet but he was relegated to the desk-bound job of superintendent of the Malta dockyards while Vice- Admiral Sackville Carden, who had spent the past two years in this relative backwater, assumed command of the fleet. It was a strange decision by any standard. Sackville-Carden was considered slow and ineffective, [2] but the arrangement was apparently based on the need to reassure the Turks that Britain, as their natural friend, would not take advantages of Limpus’s invaluable knowledge. It was not quite cricket. [3] While that argument held some credibility in September 1914, it became a nonsense when Britain declared war on Turkey in late October. Incredibly, Limpus’s unique local knowledge was ignored by the Admiralty in their subsequent foray into the Dardanelles.

On August 15 Churchill sent a personal telegram to Enver Pasha warning him that Turkey must remain neutral. [4] Churchill sent several communications of a private and personal nature directly to Enver Pasha, which raises justifiable questions about their relationship; questions that have never been suitably answered. He reminded Enver that the Allies held overwhelming naval power and could transport troops in almost unlimited numbers to Constantinople. However, if Turkey maintained strict neutrality, he promised that her territorial integrity would be respected at the end of the war. [5] It was part of a calculated tactical manoeuvre to buy time. The Secret Elite had no wish to see the Ottoman Empire remain neutral, nor the slightest intention of genuinely guaranteeing its integrity. In truth, Britain made no really significant concession to the Turks. [6] It was all about buying time.

Russia too was playing for time. Foreign Secretary Sazov instructed his ambassador at Constantinople to be firm but cautious regarding Goeben and Breslau, but not to press too hard or ‘drive affairs to a rupture.’ [7] His goal was to delay Turkish entry into the war against the Entente for as long as possible so that they would not be engaged on two fronts. An unexpected opportunity presented itself on 5 August when Enver Pasha made a surprising proposal. Just 3 days after the secret treaty with Germany had been signed, and before the Goeben arrived, Enver Pasha suggested an alliance with Russia for a period between 5 or 10 years. He insisted that Turkey was not bound to Germany, had no aggressive intentions against Russia, and had mobilised her forces for her own safety. Enver proposed that Turkey would provide Russia with military assistance in the war if Russia supported Turkish interests to regain the Aegean islands lost to Greece and territory in western Thrace lost to Bulgaria in the Balkan wars. [8]

Was this a game of bluff with all sides playing for time to get their armies into position or was Enver prepared to double-cross the Germans and make a genuine attempt to realign his country with Russia and the Entente? Sazonov wanted the Turks to demobilise their armies as a sign of good faith but such action would have left Turkey defenceless and they could not possibly comply. [9] Enver’s proposal was rejected on 9 August. [10] The Young Turks later admitted that they too had remained neutral with the sole object of gaining time to complete their mobilization. [11] It was all smoke and mirrors. Russia was attempting to trick the Turks who were in turn trying to deceive the Russians. Neither realised that Britain was hoodwinking them both.

By September, the stakes in this ever more dangerous charade rose higher and higher. Louis Mallet was given authority by the Foreign Office to decide when the Embassy staff, British officials working in the service of the Ottoman government, British residents in Turkey and shipping agents should be instructed to leave. [12] Though his mission was far from over, he had been able to send invaluable information to the Foreign Office; information that was to be scurrilously ignored in the months ahead. He advised his bosses that the defence systems along the Dardanelles had been ‘rapidly fortified’ and were manned by Germans. [13] His spies reported that over 2,000 cases of shells for both the Goeben and the Dardanelle forts had been delivered from Germany. Fresh shipments of mines had also been delivered down the Danube waterways. ‘Neutral’ Turkey was being armed by Germany, and the Foreign Office had all the facts and figures. [14] That in itself was sufficient reason for Britain to declare war, but Foreign Secretary, Sir Edward Grey refused to take that step in order to make it appear that ‘we had done everything to avoid war and that Turkey had forced it.’ [15]

London continued to goad the Turks. On the morning that Admiral Limpus departed from Constantinople, each and every member of the Ottoman Cabinet was warned that Turkish ships would be treated as enemy vessels if they stepped outside the protective waters of the Dardanelles. [16] Britain effectively blockaded a neutral country. The Grand Vizier asked the Royal Navy to pull their ships back but Churchill refused. Although mines had been laid across the Narrows, Allied merchantmen had been allowed to use a safe channel through the Dardanelles. This consideration was brought to an end on 26 September. A Turkish torpedo boat attempted to exit the Straits but was heaved to, boarded and sent back. There was no justification whatsoever for this high handed action [17] other than to raise the stakes. In response, the Turks extinguished the lighthouses and closed the strategic waterway to all vessels. If they weren’t allowed out, then no-one would be allowed through. In responding this way, the Ottoman authorities violated their obligation to keep the Straits open under international law, but ‘once again they appeared to have been provoked to do so by the actions of Winston Churchill’. [18] Indeed, it was as tactless as the confiscation of the two Turkish battleships. [19] The closure of the Dardanelles on 27 September cut Russia off from almost all of her international trade. Sazonov was apoplectic. The time was fast approaching for the Russia to ‘settle accounts’ with her ancient enemy and resolve the question of the Straits for good. [20]

On 11 October Enver Pasha informed the Germans that he would authorise Goeben and Breslau to attack Russia as soon as Germany deposited two million Turkish pounds in gold in Constantinople to support the Ottoman military forces. Time for neutrality had run its course. On 29 October, eight days after the last shipment of gold arrived by rail, the Turkish fleet under Admiral Souchon fired the first salvo in Turkey’s unannounced declaration of war. At 3.30 am the Black Sea ports of Odessa and Sebastopol were bombarded though the Black Sea fleet remained virtually unscathed. Enver Pasha had authorised the provocative attack without regard to his Cabinet colleagues. They in turn, immediately insisted on offering an apology to the Russians. Isolated but unrepentant, Enver Pasha reaped what had been sown. [21]

Responding before the apology was even drafted, Sir Edward Grey ordered the British Ambassador to deliver an ultimatum which demanded the dismissal of the German military and naval missions, and the removal of all German personnel from Goeben and Breslau within twelve hours. If the Turks failed to comply, the Ambassador and Embassy staff were instructed to ask for their passports and leave. [22] From the outset, it was a patently impossible request, [23] but by late October, Britain was ready for war…. in the Middle East. While the focus of attention lay on the Western Front, the Foreign Office and the War Office had been preparing for war in a completely different theatre. Kitchener ’s experience in Egypt allied to Mallet’s years at the Eastern Division of the Foreign Office had been used to good effect. Plans had been hatched, warships were in place in the Arabian gulf, propaganda about the safety of Holy Places was already in circulation and the Pan-Arab movement was being quietly encouraged. Mallet had been instrumental in buying three valuable months for Grey and Kitchener, [24] and the Turks were shocked when, within a week of war being declared, the British army was encamped in Kuwait, and an expeditionary force from India was headed to Baghdad. [25]

Britain broke off diplomatic relations with Turkey on 30 October and the following day a ‘cock-a-hoop’ Churchill ordered the British warships to bombard the Dardanelles. [26] He gave the order to ‘commence hostilities with Turkey’ without informing the Cabinet or formally declaring war. [27] But we should forget about Churchill for a moment and concentrate on Enver Pasha. Enver had agreed the secret pact with Germany on 2 August. Enver had asked them to send the Goeben and Breslau to Constantinople. Enver instructed Souchon to attack the Russian Black Sea ports. Enver had made the first move. Enver had delivered the condition for war. Enver, Churchill’s personal and confidential friend had given the Secret Elite exactly the excuse they needed. Inside Asquith’s Cabinet, Churchill declared, ‘it was the best thing since the outbreak of war’. [28] You might be forgiven for thinking that Enver was a servant of the Secret Elite.

On 2 November, Russia declared war on the Ottoman Empire, and Britain and France followed suit. Russia could now focus attention on her most treasured war aim; to take control of the Straits and Constantinople. After centuries of yearning, her great dream stood on the verge of realisation. [29] Every member of the Council of Ministers in Petrograd was agreed; Turkey must be dismembered. The only point of dispute was over which precise parts of the Ottoman Empire would be incorporated into Russia. [30] In his official declaration of war against the Turks, Czar Nicholas stated, ‘It is with complete serenity… that Russia takes on the appearance of this new enemy….the present conflict will only accelerate her submission to fate and open up Russia’s path towards the realization of the historic task of her ancestors along the shores of the Black Sea.’ [31] Russia’s date with destiny had arrived, but the Secret Elite had a very different agenda.

[1] Michael Hickey, Gallipoli. p. 27.
[2] Tim Travers, Gallipoli, pp 20–21.
[3] Michael Hickey, Gallipoli. p. 27.
[4] Joseph Heller, Sir Louis Mallet and the Ottoman Empire, The Road to War, Middle Eastern Studies, Vol.12, No. 1 (Jan., 1976), p. 36.
[5] Martin Gilbert, Winston S Churchill, vol III, p. 194.
[6] Hew Strachan, The First World War vol. 1; To Arms, p. 675.
[7] Sazonov to Girs, 8 August, 1914, telegram, 1746, MO 6.1 no.33.
[8] Ronald P. Bobroff, Roads to Glory, Late Imperial Russia and the Straits, p 101.
[9] Ibid.
[10] Sean McMeekin, The Russian Origins of the First World War, p.107.
[11] W.W. Gottlieb, Studies in Secret Diplomacy, p. 60.
[12] Joseph Heller, Sir Louis Mallet and the Ottoman Empire, The Road to War, Middle Eastern Studies, Vol.12, No. 1 (Jan., 1976), p. 12.
[13] Ibid., p. 14.
[14] Daily Telegraph, 3 October 1914.
[15] A.L. Macfie, The Straits Question in the First World War, Middle Eastern Studies, July 1983, p. 49.
[16] Joseph Heller, Sir Louis Mallet and the Ottoman Empire, The Road to War, Middle Eastern Studies, Vol.12, No. 1 (Jan., 1976), p. 20.
[17] Robert Rhodes James, Gallipoli, p. 112.
[18] Barbara Tuchman, The Guns of August, p. 67.
[19] L.A. Carlyon, Gallipoli, p. 45.
[20] McMeekin, The Russian Origins, pp. 110-11.
[21] David Fromkin, A Peace to End all Peace, p. 72.
[22] Gilbert, Churchill, vol III, p. 215.
[23] Gottlieb, Studies, p. 62.
[24] Heller, Sir Louis Mallet, p.21.
[25] Pat Walsh, The Great Fraud of 1914-1918, p. 31.
[26] Strachan, The First World War,Vol 1, p. 680.
[27] Pat Walsh, Remembering Gallipoli, p. 25.
[28] Edward David, Inside Asquith’s Cabinet, p. 205.
[29] Bobroff, Roads to Glory, pp. 115-116.
[30] McMeekin, The Russian Origins, p. 113.
[31] Ibid., p. 114.

Gallipoli 6: Neutral Till It Suits

The entry of Goeben and Breslau to the Dardanelles, barely a week into Britain’s war with Germany, was a significant achievement. It felt like a defeat; it was anything but.

The Royal Navy suffered a widely felt embarrassment at the incapacity of its Mediterranean fleet to destroy two relatively easy targets. In the eyes of fellow senior officers, the failure to engage the enemy was seen as a shameful episode, contrary to the finest traditions of the navy. The commanders of the British cruiser squadrons, Rear-Admiral Milne and Vice-Admiral Troubridge, were recalled to London in response to widespread public criticism. These senior officers had to be held to account to placate the Russians who might have asked even more awkward questions about the Goeben’s escape. They protested that they did no wrong. Milne insisted that he had given ‘unquestioning obedience’ to Admiralty orders and was able to demonstrate that in his pursuit of the Goeben, he had carried them out to the letter. [1] He stated that he had successfully prevented the Germans from carrying out their primary aim to attack French troops crossing from Africa, and was publicly vindicated. Milne did obey orders, but it is unlikely that we shall ever know what his true orders were.

Vice-Admiral Troubridge was subjected to a Court of Inquiry which considered that his failure to engage the Goeben, after she left Messina on 6 August, was deplorable. [2] He was then tried by Court Martial on a charge of negligence for failing to pursue the Goeben under section three of the Naval Discipline Act, [3] but his conduct was vindicated. [4] It was political posturing. The Admiralty went through the motions of a strictly private court martial whose proceedings were barred to the press. The Rear Admiral had followed orders from London, but had not been party to all the information available. [5] It must be remembered that the Admiralty knew precisely where the Goeben was headed, but did not share this with Troubridge. Such information could not have been made public for the damage it would have caused to British-Russian relations would have been terminal. Milne and Troubridge had to carry the can for the entire episode and neither commanded at sea again.

No-one at the time considered that the Goeben and Breslau’s escape to Constantinople had been carefully orchestrated by the Foreign Office in London in conjunction with the Admiralty, to stop Russia seizing the city, [6] but that was certainly the immediate effect. It also demonstrated the over-reaching power exercised by Enver Pasha in granting permission to the German warships to make their spectacular entry into the Bosphorus without consulting either the Grand Vizier or any other member of the Turkish government. Anchored in the Golden Horn, the cruisers were never asylum seekers. They were game-changing defenders of the Ottoman Empire, though they posed an awkward question in terms of international law. Since Turkey was still a neutral country ( her secret agreement with Germany of 2 August did not commit her to war ) why did she provide a safe haven for the German warships? As has already been noted [7] Enver Pasha, acting on his own initiative, had asked the German Ambassador to send both cruisers through the Dardanelles to replace the dreadnoughts which Britain had so deviously commandeered. [8] In order to maintain Ottoman neutrality, Goeben and Breslau were hastily incorporated into the Sultan’s navy. [9]

The famous names of Goeben and Breslau were replaced by Sultan Jawuz Selim, and Midilli. The German crews exchanged their floppy dark-blue sailors’ caps for red fezzes, and raised the Turkish flag, but nothing else changed. They were German ships, controlled by a German Admiral and crewed by German sailors who took their orders from Berlin. Churchill was apoplectic in public since it reflected so badly on the Royal Navy and the British fleet received orders to proceed immediately to blockade the entrance to the Dardanelles. [10] According to Herbert Asquith, Churchill wanted to send a torpedo flotilla through the Dardanelles ‘to sink the Goeben and her consort’, [11] but it was all posturing. Britain asked that the German crews be removed, but ‘were reluctant to pressure the Turks to send the German vessels away.’ [12] Reluctant? Indeed, they were more than reluctant. Having gone to extraordinary lengths to shepherd them into the pen, Churchill and the Foreign Office had no intention of driving them out.

Their safe arrival rendered a Russian amphibious operation to seize Constantinople well-nigh impossible. [13] Although Sazonov protested furiously, London attempted to rationalise the situation. It was better, they suggested, to have the warships in the Sea of Marmara as part of the Turkish navy than in the Mediterranean as German combatants. Russia had been kept out of Constantinople, but the Secret Elite now faced the considerable problem of keeping her focused on the eastern front. How enthusiastic would they be to continue the war if they were not to gain the great prize of Constantinople? It required a delicate balance of assurances and timing, and in this the elites were magnificently served by a most trusted agent, Sir Louis Mallet, Ambassador at Constantinople. Mallet’s critical role at the start of the war was to keep Turkey neutral until it suited Britain to shunt her into the war on Germany’s side.

Described by the Turkish Minister, Djamal Pasha, as ‘a particularly fine man, thoroughly honest and very kind’, [14] Mallet’s appointment in 1913 raised eyebrows in diplomatic circles. He had been head of the Eastern Department in the Foreign Office since 1907, not a court diplomat, and trusted completely by Foreign Secretary Sir Edward Grey and Sir Arthur Nicolson, his permanent secretary. Mallet was close to the inner circle of the Secret Elite and had worked for years on the development of British policies in Egypt, Persia, and India. He understood the geopolitics of the Middle East, and was totally conversant with British interests and long term aims in the region. Mallet was sent to Constantinople as the embodiment of British sympathy for the Young Turks who considered his appointment an act of friendship. His role was to keep the Porte ( the name for the Ottoman administration ) neutral in order to buy time for the British Empire in the troubled early months of the war. Mallet was well able to match the Ottomans at their own game of flawless duplicity.

Louis Mallet absented himself from Turkey in the summer of 1914, and was ‘on leave’ when Enver Pasha signed the secret alliance with Germany on 2 August. It is hard to imagine that during these days of unprecedented international crisis, Mallet was simply on vacation. At the moment when the Foreign Office and the Admiralty were deciding on the fate of the Turkish dreadnoughts, when Sazonov and the Russians were ranting about the need to keep these massive warships from the Turks, when the Goeben and Breslau were making good their escape, it beggar’s belief that the British Ambassador was not deeply involved, giving advice and making recommendations. For six years he had served Sir Edward Grey as Under-Secretary of State in charge of Near and Middle Eastern affairs. Mallet was one of the most knowledgeable men in the country in matters concerning the Ottoman Empire, yet we are asked to accept that unfortunately he was on leave and could not be disturbed. It gave the Secret Elite the perfect excuse to distance him from all that had happened. He was on holiday, hence out of the firing line, when the Turkish warships were seized by Churchill. Thus his close relationship with the Young Turks was untainted by the hostility which was associated with Britain’s action. How very fortunate.

In fact Mallet became the main instrument in the charm offensive devised to soothe the anxious Turks and keep them neutral until Britain was ready and the time was right. He returned to Constantinople on 16 August with promises to make good the financial loss incurred by the commandeering of the dreadnoughts, and pursued a determined line that Ottoman neutrality was in the best interests of everyone. Asquith noted his satisfaction on 19 August, ‘ Happily, Louis Mallet is back in Constantinople,’ and relationships ‘will be further improved if we offer to return their two seized battleships at the end of the war.’ [15] The Foreign Office’s only stipulation was that the German crews had to be sent home, a condition they knew could never be met. Note what was specifically implied here. Britain was not asking Turkey to surrender the warships, or promise not to use them. Keep the warships; defend Constantinople, but remove the Germans. It was as well that Asquith’s letters did not reach Sazonov.

Mallet and the British Foreign Office knew about the ‘secret’ Turkish alliance with Germany long before his return to Constantinople. The British Ambassador was fully aware that Enver Pasha was the principal decision-maker inside the Turkish Cabinet and Mallet could literally watch the Goeben and Breslau from his residence at Therapia as they sailed past every other day, their guns ready for action. [16] He knew exactly what was going on behind the scenes but pretended ignorance. Neither Mallet nor the Foreign Office were fooled by soft words or vague promises, but they played the game of duplicity in order to buy valuable time and keep Turkey neutral for as long as possible.

There were two imperatives. The first was to keep Russia in the war. The second was to keep the Muslim world on-side; to prepare India and Arabia for the certainty that if war broke out with Turkey, the Holy Places would be protected. Since 1517 the Ottoman Sultan had been recognised as a Caliph, the religious and political successor to the Prophet Muhammad. The Ottoman Caliph was held to be the leader of the worldwide Muslim community and defender of the holy cities of Medina and Mecca. Moslems might forgive Britain for going to war against the only significant independent Islamic power, but not the disruption of pilgrimages to the Holy Places of Arabia [17]

In those early days of the Secret Elite’s war, the Foreign Office and the War Office had to ensure that everything was in place to deal with any religious uprisings when the Ottomans entered the war. Kitchener and prime minister Asquith agreed that, ‘…in the interests of the Moslems in India and Egypt’, Britain must not do anything which could be interpreted as taking the initiative in a war against the Ottomans. She ought to ‘be compelled to strike the first blow…’ [18] Two weeks earlier they had ‘compelled’ Germany ‘to strike the first blow,’ then heaped the blame on her for starting the war. It was the mantra repeated so often before Britain went to war. Sir Edward Grey later reminded Ambassador Mallet that ‘I do not see how war can be avoided, but we shall not take the first step.’ [19]. That said it all. Perfidious Albion dressed herself in apparent innocence before ‘being compelled’ to go to war. It was an oft repeated hypocrisy. [20]

[1] Arthur J Marder, From Dreadnought to Scapa Flow Vol. II, p.32.
[2] PRO/National Archives, ADM/156/76
[3] Ibid.
[4] The Times, 13 Nov, 1914, p. 5.
[5] Marder, From Dreadnought to Scapa Flow, vol II, pp. 32-39.
[6] WW Gottlieb, Studies in Secret Diplomacy during the First World War pp. 47ff and passim.
[7] See Blog Gallipoli 3
[8] Sean McMeekin, The Russian Origins of the First World War. p. 106.
[9] Ulrich Trumpener, The Escape of the Goeben and Breslau, Canadian Journal of History, September 1971,Canadian Journal of History) p. 171.
[10] Martin Gilbert, Winston S Churchill, vol III, p. 194.
[11] Michael and Eleanor Brock, HH Asquith, Letters,to Venetia Stanley, p. 171.
[12] McMeekin, The Russian Origins, pp. 99-100.
[13] Ibid., pp. 105-106.
[14] Djamal Pasha, Memories of a Turkish Statesman. http://archive.org/details/ memoriesofturkis00ahmeuoft
[15] Brock, HH Asquith, Letters to Venetia Stanley, p. 179.
[16] Joseph Heller, Sir Louis Mallet and the Ottoman Empire, The Road to War, Middle Eastern Studies, Vol.12, No. 1 (Jan., 1976), p. 36.
[17] David Fromkin, A Peace to end all Peace, p. 101.
[18] Brock, HH Asquith, Letters, p. 171.
[19] Joseph Heller, Sir Louis Mallet and the Ottoman Empire, The Road to War, Middle Eastern Studies, Vol.12, No. 1 (Jan., 1976), p. 36.
[20] For example, when Sir Alfred Milner decided that war with the Boers was unavoidable he deliberately ‘bounced’ Kruger into making the first move. (Docherty and Macgregor, Hidden History, The Secret Origins of the First World War, p. 40.)

Gallipoli 5: Admiralty Clerk Declares War On Austria

The true story of Goeben’s escape is very different from that presented by the mainstream. Historians blandly state that Churchill and the British government knew nothing of the secret agreement that Turkey signed with Germany on 2 August, or that the German warships were heading towards Constantinople. Apparently, no-one even considered the possibility that Goeben and Breslau were engaged in a political mission that would profoundly affect and prolong the course of the war. [1] In fact, British Intelligence had for some considerable time intercepted messages between the German embassy in Constantinople and Berlin. It is quite astonishing that the treaty between Turkey and Germany was kept secret from most of the Turkish cabinet, yet British and French Intelligence knew of it almost at once. [2]

On 3 August the Kaiser advised King Constantine of Greece by telegram that the Turks had thrown in their lot with Germany and that the two German warships presently in the Mediterranean would proceed to Constantinople. The strongly pro-British Greek prime minister, Elephtherios Venizelos, passed this information to the British charge d’affaires who in turn cabled the news to London. [3] Lest there be any doubt, King Constantine also shared the information in confidence with Admiral Kerr of the British naval mission in Athens. [4] Thus key officials in both the Foreign Office and the Admiralty knew about the enemy’s intention before war was declared.

Indeed it is perfectly possible that the plans approved by Berlin were known in London before Admiral Souchon had sight of them on board the Goeben. Public Records Office files in London reveal that naval intelligence had decrypted the encoded radio-message sent from Berlin to Souchon on 4 August. The brief instruction read; ‘Alliance concluded with Turkey, Goeben and Breslau proceed at once to Constantinople.’ The information which was passed from Greece on 3 August was instantly confirmed by the encoded radio-message on the 4th. London knew that Souchon had been instructed to set course immediately for the Dardanelles . [5] There was no ambiguity.

There was another source which constantly monitored all that was happening in and around Constantinople. By 1914 Russia’s intelligence on Turkey was uniformly good and manifestly better than that of Britain. As Souchon headed across the Mediterranean, ‘the Russians knew perfectly well where he was going and why.’ [6] Russian Foreign Secretary Sazonov had informants inside the Ottoman cabinet meetings, and Mikhail Girs, the Russian Ambassador at Constantinople, was exceptionally well informed. [7] Given the dire consequences for Russia if the Goeben and Breslau sailed unmolested into Constantinople, and the fact that they had no warships of their own in the Mediterranean to stop them, it is inconceivable that the Russian Foreign Ministry would not have immediately passed the crucial information to British Intelligence. Indeed Sazonov was in ready contact with Sir Edward Grey at the Foreign Office, demanding and expecting effective action. The German cruisers had to be sunk. Russian imperial ambition required the immediate removal of the menace, but to further Britain’s own geopolitical strategy, the Secret Elite had to ensure that Goeben and Breslau reached their destination safely. Their strategy enabled Turkey to replace the dreadnoughts which Britain had commandeered with two German warships. At a stroke, the Russian Black Sea fleet was effectively neutralised and Russia kept out out of Constantinople.

The crucial information which the Admiralty knew about Souchon’s inentions was withheld from the Royal Navy squadrons in the Mediterranean, and most of the information they received from London ‘was either useless or inaccurate.’ [8] Milne apparently laboured under the impression that Souchon intended to turn back west after coaling at Messina. Appearances can be deceptive. Was Milne part of the conspiracy? It would certainly explain some of the bizarre events in this strange tale. It would account for the fact that the three cruisers which closely shadowed the Goeben, handicapped by her defective boilers, ‘lost’ their prey just a few hours before the 11 pm declaration of war. It would explain why he positioned the cruiser squadrons to the west of Sicily, and by the island of Cephalonia, while placing only one totally inadequate warship to guard Souchon’s escape route to the east. Had it been sent by semaphore, Milne’s message to Souchon could hardly have been clearer; ‘We are not preventing your passage to the Dardanelles’. Look again at the geographic position of the hunters and the hunted. The Germans were prevented from sailing west into the Mediterranean, or north to the Adriatic. The reasonable conclusion such tactics warrant is that Souchon was purposefully being shepherded towards the Aegean and Constantinople. This suggestion is not as outrageous as it might first appear. Admiral Milne was a favourite of the British monarchy and had been close to the late King Edward VII, a man who was himself intimately linked to the inner core of the Secret Elite. [9]

When Goeben and Breslau left Messina on 6 August, the proverbial fly in the Admiralty’s ointment was Captain Howard Kelly in HMS Gloucester. Although comprehensively outgunned by Goeben, Kelly stubbornly trailed the German cruisers east. Milne signalled Gloucester to give up the chase. Why? Was it to protect the Gloucester or to allow the German ships to disappear into the safety of the eastern Mediterranean? Whichever, Kelly defied the Admiral’s instructions and continued in pursuit. Souchon was forced to order Breslau to confront the small British cruiser, but the defiant Gloucester opened fire. Eventually all three warships engaged in the fight, but no hits were scored by either side. At 4.30 in the afternoon, when Goeben rounded Cape Matapan and entered the Aegean Sea, the fearless Kelly finally turned back. At the end of the day he was the only British naval officer to emerge with any credit. Strangely, rather than facing a court-martial for disobeying an order from the Admiral, Kelly was given a CB (Companion of the Bath) and went on to enjoy a glittering naval career.

Early on 7 August Admiral Milne informed the Admiralty that as soon as his three battle cruisers, Inflexible, Indefatigable and Indomitable, and the light cruiser Weymouth had completed coaling at Malta he would follow Goeben and Breslau into the Eastern Mediterranean. He received no response. Despite all the intelligence it held on Goeben’s plans and whereabouts, Milne allegedly remained ‘entirely without information’ as to the whereabouts and intentions of his opponent. Later that afternoon, at 5:40, the Admiralty received another signal from Milne repeating his intentions. At this point the saga became even murkier. Evidence ‘unfortunately disappeared’ from the Admiralty file on this exchange. [10] Despite two reports from different sources that Goeben had been seen at the Aegean island of Syra and had asked to coal, these were filed away at the Admiralty without comment and the information was not passed to Milne. The only report he received was that Goeben had passed Cape Matapan on the 7th, intelligence that he had previously sent himself to the Admiralty. [11]

Desperate for coal, and confirmation that he could sail into the Straits, Admiral Souchon lingered in the Greek archipelago for approximately sixty hours, during which ‘the British Mediterranean fleet had ample time to make up for all previous errors and catch up with their prey.’ [12] And herein lies another conundrum. After his escape from Messina, Souchon requested permission from the Greek government to take on much needed coal when he reached the Aegean. Had they denied him fuel, or procrastinated long enough for the Mediterranean fleets to catch him, the matter might well have ended there and then. Instead, prime minister Venizelos ‘agreed at once’ to release 800 tons from the sequestered stock of German coal at Piraeus. The British Foreign Office later suggested that the staunchly pro-British Venizelos, a friend of Lloyd George, had simply ‘acted out of a desire to be fair to all sides.’ [13] What rubbish. British intelligence knew well in advance where Souchon was headed, and what he required in order to escape to Constantinople. They opened the doors; they approved the fuelling; they ensured that the German ships continued in comparative safety. Most importantly, they hid all this from the Russians.

Venizelos had immediately informed Rear-Admiral Mark Kerr, that Goeben would rendezvous with a coal ship at Denusa in the days ahead. Kerr, a staunch British patriot, had previously been seconded from Britain to head the Greek navy. We are asked to believe that he did not pass on the information about Goeben’s whereabouts to London. Incredible. Considered from another angle, Kerr, like the Admiralty, knew that the Goeben and Breslau had been ordered to Constantinople. King Constantine had personally shown him the telegram of 3 August from the Kaiser authorising this. [14] That he kept it to himself, or lingered long before eventually telling the Admiralty, is fanciful. It was part of the smoke-screen, part of the post-event blame-game which deflected any focus on the British Admiralty or Foreign Office. Above all else, under no circumstances could Russia be made aware about the depth of British culpability in this charade of a chase.

While Souchon was more or less marooned in the south Agean Sea, Admiral Milne took his three heavy cruisers and a light cruiser east towards the Aegean. He headed in a direction that would have led him to the German ships. En-route he received a message from the Admiralty that Austria had declared war on Britain. In accordance with long-standing and explicit orders detailing what he should do if Austria entered the war, Milne broke off his pursuit and headed north for the Adriatic to blockade the Austrian fleet. He was later informed that the report was false and back-tracked east, but 24 hours had been lost and Milne spent the whole day in a fruitless search of the western Aegean. Thus historians could record that Souchon ‘might well have been searched out and destroyed had not the Admiralty sent Milne on August 8th the false report…’ [15] According to Winston Churchill, the misinformation was instigated in error. ‘ The fates moved a blameless, punctilious Admiralty clerk to declare war upon Austria.’ [16] Oh, dear; how calamitous. A ‘blameless’ clerk just happened to send Admiral Milne, and Milne alone, an erroneous message to the effect that Britain was at war with Austria. Inside this unfortunate misunderstanding, secret orders immediately took effect and changed, not just Admiral Milne’s course, but the course of history. Are you prepared to accept that? It is a wonder that the Russians did.

Against overwhelming odds, and thanks to the Secret Elite, Goeben and Breslau entered the Dardanelles at 5pm on 10 August and arrived unscathed at Constantinople the next day. According to the All Souls and Oxford historian CRMFC Crutwell, they carried with them ‘graver destinies than any other vessels in modern history.’ [17] They immediately rendered Russia’s ageing Black Sea fleet strategically useless. There would be no amphibious landing of Russian forces at Constantinople.  Sir Louis Mallet, the British ambassador to the Ottoman Empire, later revealed the truth when he stated that the presence of the Goeben and Breslau acted in British interests because they protected the Straits against Russia. [18] Russian Foreign Secretary Sergei Sazonov was furious. In a telegram to London, he raged that Souchon’s success was all the more regrettable because Britain could have prevented it. [19] Had he learned that far from preventing the ‘escape’, Britain had deliberately facilitated it, Russian involvement in the First World War would have been over immediately.

The Ottoman ambassador in Berlin telegraphed home: ‘Considering the displeasure and complications which a Russian attack on Constantinople would produce in England, the British navy having enabled the German ships to take cover in the Sea of Marmora, has, with the Machiavellianism characteristic of the Foreign Office, foiled any possibility of action by the Russian Black Sea Fleet. [20] And he was absolutely correct.

[1] Barbara Tuchman, The Guns of August, p. 150.
[2] John Laffin, The Agony of Gallipoli, pp. 6-7.
[3] Ulrich Trumpener, The Escape of the Goeben and Breslau, Canadian Journal of History, September 1971, pp. 178-9.
[4] Geoffrey Miller, The Straits, ch. 16.
[5] Alberto Santini, The First Ultra Secret: the British Cryptanalysis in the Naval Operations of the First World War, Revue internationale d’histoire militaire, vol 63 1985, p. 101.
[6] Sean McMeekin , The Russian Origins of the First World War, p. 109.
[7] Ibid.
[8] Trumpener, The Escape of the Goeben and Breslau, Canadian Journal of History, September 1971, pp. 181-7.
[9] Gerry Docherty and Jim Macgregor, Hidden History, The Secret Origins of the First World War, p. 64.
[10] Trumpener, The Escape of the Goeben and Breslau. Canadian Journal of History 1971, pp. 179-183.
[11] Ibid.
[12] Ibid., p. 181.
[13] Ibid., p. 175.
[14] Geoffrey Miller, Superior Force, Chapter 11. http://www.superiorforce.co.uk
[15] CRMF Crutwell, A History of the Great War, p. 72.
[16] Winston Churchill, The World Crisis, p. 209.
[17] Crutwell, A History, p. 72.
[18] Hew Strachan, The First World War, p. 674.
[19] WW Gottlieb, Studies in Secret Diplomacy, p. 45.
[20] Ibid.

Gallipoli 4: Fumbling Incompetence … And Too Few Stokers

The escape of the Goeben and Breslau in their mad-cap dash across the Mediterranean to the safety of the Dardanelles has become part of the folklore of the First World War. The escape was astonishing; the consequences staggering. Mainstream historians claim that from the German perspective it was a blessing that verged on a miracle; for the British it was a great embarrassment. Churchill ranted that it was a ‘curse.’ [1] The truth is somewhat different. Evidence now proves that the British Foreign Office and the Admiralty in London knew precisely where the German warships were in the Mediterranean and, crucially, where they were headed. Far from attempting to destroy the Goeben and Breslau, the Secret Elite in London took active steps to keep them from harm and ensure their safe passage to Constantinople. Had the sinking of the German cruisers been the real objective, neither the Goeben nor Breslau would have survived.

Having bombarded the French embarkation ports on the Algerian coast at around 6 am on 4 August 1914, the German cruisers set off, as ordered, on a desperate 1200 mile race across the Mediterranean and Aegean Seas to Constantinople. Every opportunity the Royal Navy had to catch and destroy them was apparently bungled in a series of incredible errors that were later put down to incompetence. Barbara Tuchman, the Pulitzer Prize winning American wrote, ‘No other single exploit of the war cast so long a shadow upon the world as the voyage accomplished by their commander during the next seven days.’ [2] As eminent a seafarer as he was, Admiral Souchon could not have escaped the clutches of the British unless aided and abetted by powers he did not comprehend.

Consider the facts. Souchon’s original orders were to attack and destroy French troop transport ships plying between the North African and French coasts. The bombardment of two embarkation ports in French Algeria, Bone and Phillipsville was a very public announcement of their presence, yet the French navy did not give chase. Goeben and Breslau rendezvoused north of Bone and set off back east for Messina, completely unmolested by the mighty French fleet which was on its way south from Toulon, and fast approaching that very spot. The question remains, why did the French fleet, which included 4 recently commissioned dreadnoughts, not go for the jugular and wipe out the German cruisers which were the only threat to their transport ships in the Mediterranean?

Around 9.30 am while heading east, Admiral Souchon was doubtless expressing incredulity that his cruisers had not been attacked, when two British heavy cruisers appeared on the horizon. They were heading at full speed directly towards him. Indefatigable and Indomitable, which had been steaming west all night to intercept the German cruisers, encountered them off Bone. Their precise co-ordinates, 37.44 North, 7:56 East, were immediately telegraphed to the Admiralty in London but the crucial information regarding the direction in which the German cruisers were headed, was not passed on. Churchill, allegedly, ‘assumed they were heading west with further evil intent upon the French.’ [3] That was utter nonsense. As we shall see, Churchill and the Admiralty knew that the German ships were heading east, and that their ultimate destination was Constantinople.

Every British naval action that followed literally channeled the Goeben and Breslau east towards the Dardanelles. Indomitable and Indefatigable held fire on sighting their ‘prey’. Churchill had telegraphed a caution to all British warships, ‘The British ultimatum to Germany will expire at midnight GMT, 4 August. [4] No acts of war should be committed before that hour …’ [5] That being the case, Indomitable and Indefatigable passed within close range of Goeben and Breslau, the Admirals eyeing each other from their bridges. [6] The British cruisers swept round and followed closely in their wake. They were later joined by the light cruiser, HMS Dublin. Given her defective boilers, the three predators were theoretically faster than the Goeben and should easily have been able to stay on her tail. Admiral Milne, C-in-C of the Mediterranean fleet, was reminded by London that ‘the speed of your Squadrons is sufficient to enable you to choose your moment,’ [7] and with their 12-inch guns could have sent her to the bottom. [8]

Goeben remained just ahead of the British pack throughout the entire day. In the mid-summer heat of the Mediterranean, many of her stokers collapsed, and four died, horrifically scalded by steam blasting from faulty boiler tubes. Let there be no doubt that the Goeben toiled to survive ahead of a formidable pack. At the 11 pm deadline, Churchill ordered the Admiralty to signal all ships, ‘Commence hostilities at once with Germany …’ Prior to the given order, the gap between Goeben and the pursuers widened and she disappeared into the night. The official excuse later proffered was that the British warships had been unable to maintain their course due to a shortage of stokers. [9] What rotten luck.

Having defied the odds to reach Messina in north-east Sicily, Admiral Souchon was given 24 hours by the neutral Italians to load coal and clear out. German merchant ships, which had previously been ordered to rendezvous with Goeben at Messina, had their decks ripped open and railings torn away to enable the transfer of coal. Every crew-member was pressed into action. By noon on 6 August 1,500 tons had been transferred manually to Goeben and Breslau. Men fainted with exhaustion in the summer heat and ‘blackened and sweat-soaked bodies lay all over the ship like so many corpses.’ [10] 1,500 tons of coal was sufficient to reach the Aegean Sea, where Souchon had arranged, through the Greek government, to meet another merchant collier.

With Goeben and Breslau in Messina it was a relatively simple task for Admiral Milne to bottle them in. He had a large fleet at his disposal, including three battle cruisers together with four heavy cruisers from Admiral Troubridge’s squadron, and a further four light cruisers and sixteen destroyers. Souchon knew his ships were sitting ducks at Messina. The massed British fleet could either move in and force their surrender, or wait for them to emerge and blow them out the water. Trapped in the tight channel between Sicily and the toe of Italy, there was only one narrow exit north from Messina leading to the western Mediterranean, and one narrow exit to the east. On 5 August the German authorities asked the Austro-Hungarian fleet to leave its base in the Adriatic and head south to help Goeben and Breslau break out of the Messina Strait, but the naval commander, Anton Haus, declined. The mobilization of his fleet had not been completed. Furthermore, the Austrian foreign ministry had instructed him to avoid action with the British or French fleet and so he remained in port. [11] In truth, it would have been a fool-hardy act since Austria was not yet at war with Britain. [12]

Admiral Milne knew Goeben and Breslau were trapped, but received orders from London to strictly observe Italy’s neutrality. British warships were specifically ordered not to enter neutral Italian waters or approach within six miles of the Italian coast. How odd. Here were the Germans caught in flagrante. Technically, Souchon was abusing Italian neutrality by coaling within her waters, but we are asked to believe that the combative, blood-roused Churchill was suddenly overcome by diplomatic nicety.

Having allowed his men five hours rest, the German Admiral ordered steam. Aware of the overwhelming forces ranged against him, he ran the gauntlet at 5 pm. All day excited Sicilians crowded the quays selling postcards and last souvenirs to ‘those about to die.’ Extra editions of the local papers were headlined ‘In the Claws of Death.’  [13] Goeben and Breslau headed down through the eastern outlet of the Messina Strait with an all-pervading sense of doom. But where was the British fleet? Logic dictated that Milne put sufficient warships at both exits from the Messina Strait to render Souchon’s escape impossible but incredibly, he had posted only one light cruiser to cover the eastern escape route. His heavy cruiser squadron had been stationed to the west of Sicily, and in consequence, could do nothing as Souchon escaped. Meantime, Admiral Troubridge with his four armoured cruisers, was lying just off Cephalonia to prevent Goeben entering the Adriatic.

Weighing only 4,800 tons and carrying 2 six-inch guns against the might of the Goeben, HMS Gloucester, under Captain Howard Kelly, watched the German cruisers exit the Messina Strait, and immediately telegraphed their position to Milne. Other than that he could do nothing but stay out of harms way as they headed off. Souchon made a feint to the north as if heading for the Adriatic, but once darkness fell changed course to the east for the Aegean. Troubridge took his four cruisers south from Cephalonia to intercept Goeben, but soon turned back. He had been ordered by Churchill not to engage a ‘superior force,’ and he deemed  Goeben superior to his four armoured cruisers and their accompanying eight destroyers. [14] The genie was out of the proverbial bottle, and had been channeled inexorably towards the Dardanelles and Constantinople.

Each morsel in the charade of the Goeben and Breslau ‘escape’ becomes harder to swallow. There were no circumstances in which four cruisers could have failed to do serious damage to the Goeben as she steamed eastwards. That two large squadrons of the mighty British navy failed to prevent a couple of German cruisers escape was, and is to this day, explained as a fiasco of tragic blunders attributable to the ‘listless and fumbling’ conduct of Sir Ernest Troubridge and Sir Archibald Berkeley Milne. [15] Oxford historian, Sir Hew Strachan claimed that the escape rendered the actions of every British naval commander in the Mediterranean, with the distinguished exception of  Captain Kelly of Gloucester, ‘incompetent’. [16] So there you have it. The Goeben’s great escape to the Dardanelles was entirely down to listless, fumbling incompetence; oh, and too few stokers. No-one appears to have considered how very convenient it was to have two German gunboats safely protecting Constantinople. As our next blog will demonstrate, the ‘escape’ proved a triumph of subtle British manipulation which protected their real interests.

Please Note that for the duration of our blogs on Gallipoli we will publish two per week each Wednesday and Friday.

[1] Winston Churchill, The World Crisis, 1911-1918, vol. p. 209.
[2] Barbara Tuchman, The Guns of August, p. 137.
[3] Ibid., p.150.
[4] When it was pointed out that there was a one hour time difference between London and Berlin, this was changed to 11.pm GMT.
[5] Martin Gilbert, Winston S. Churchill, vol III, p. 30.
[6] Edmond Delage, The Tragedy of the Dardanelles, p. 2.
[7] Tuchman, Guns of August, p. 146.
[8] Alan Moorehead, Gallipoli, p. 26.
[9] Arthur J. Marder, From Dreadnought to Scapa Flow, p 23.
[10] Tuchman, Guns of August, p. 152.
[11] Hew Strachan, The First World War, Volume 1; To Arms, p. 650.
[12] War was not declared between Britain and Austria until 12 August.
[13] Tuchman, Guns of August, p. 153.
[14] C.R.M.F. Crutwell, A History of the Great War, p 71.
[15] Ulrich Trumpener, The Escape of the Goeben and Breslau, Canadian Journal of History, September 1971, p 171.
[16] Strachan, The First World War, Volume 1, p. 648.

Gallipoli 3: David and Goliath

On 31 July, the day after Russia demanded seizure of the two Turkish dreadnoughts, the British Cabinet, with its attention drawn to the crisis in Serbia, accepted that they should be retained by the Royal Navy. Churchill later said he requisitioned the ships on 28 July. His memory, though suspect, always ensured that he took all the credit.

British sailors boarded Sultan Osman 1 that same day and the Ottoman ambassador was informed that the warship was being detained for the time being. [1] Buoyed by the seizure of the Turkish dreadnoughts, and confirmation by telegram from France that the government there was in ‘hearty high spirits’ and ‘firmly decided on war,’ [2] Russia continued full speed with the general mobilisation of her armies on Germany’s eastern border. At 4 pm on 1 August, the French also ordered general mobilisation. There was no turning back. It meant war. [3] Over the previous two days the Kaiser had repeatedly pleaded in vain with the Czar to withdraw his armies as Germany would be left with no option but to retaliate. Faced with invasion from both east and west, the Kaiser was the last to order general mobilisation. As the Secret Elite had planned, Germany was provoked into a retaliatory war. In St Petersburg at 6 pm on 1 August the German ambassador Count Pourtales handed over Germany’s declaration of war on Russia and broke down in tears. [4] Unlike the French, he was most definitely not in ‘hearty high spirits’ at the prospect.

In Constantinople that same day, 1 August, Enver Pasha, Minister of War, informed the other Young Turks to their bitter disappointment that their two warships had been seized by the British. [5] Within 24 hours a ‘secret’ alliance was signed between Turkey and Germany. Directed against Russia, it did not commit Turkey to war. [6] Despite the bitter disappointment and provocation, there was no wish for war. The Grand Vizier and majority of the Young Turks did not want to join in the fighting at all, and hoped that Turkey would not be dragged into the conflict. Article 4 of the treaty stated: ‘Germany obligates itself, by force of arms if need be, to defend Ottoman territory in case it should be threatened.’ The Ottoman Empire in turn undertook to observe strict neutrality in the European conflict. [7] Germany committed itself to defend Turkey from a Russian attack, though Turkey still remained nominally neutral. Her involvement in the war was not yet a done deal.

It is no exaggeration to state that Enver was the driving force behind the Turkish alliance with Germany. He signed the secret pact without the knowledge, permission or approval of the majority of his own cabinet. Sir Louis Mallet, British Ambassador at Constantinople, stated that the pro-German Enver was ‘dominated by a quasi-Napoleonic ideal’, while ‘the Sultan, the Heir Apparent, the Grand Vizier, Djavid Bey, a majority of the Ministry, and a considerable section of the CUP were opposed to so desperate an adventure as war with the Allies.’ [8] Enver was headstrong and bold. He ordered the general mobilisation of the Turkish army and the immediate closure and mining of the southern end of the Dardanelles, though a small passage in both the Bosphorous and Dardanelles was kept open to admit friendly vessels. [9] Reeling from Britain’s seizure of her two warships, and acutely aware of the threat that Russia’s Black Sea fleet posed to the defenceless Constantinople, an alternative proposal was put forward. According to the dispatch sent to Berlin on 2 August 1914 by the German Ambassador at Constantinople, Baron von Wangenheim, Enver Pasha formally asked Germany to send her two Mediterranean warships to Constantinople. [10] Germany agreed. [11] It was a like for like replacement; for Sultan Osman and Reshadieh, read Goeben and Breslau.

The battle-cruiser Goeben and its close escort, the light cruiser Breslau, had been in the Mediterranean since 1912, and, from October 1913, sailed under the command of the energetic and imaginative Rear-Admiral Wilhelm Souchon. Goodwill visits were regularly made to cities and ports throughout the Mediterranean and Aegean, including Constantinople. The Royal Navy kept them under close watch and continually updated the Admiralty in London as to their whereabouts.

Goeben, a powerful and impressive warship, had been commissioned in 1912. She was slightly smaller than a battleship with a displacement of 22,640 tons, and ten 11-inch guns. The Breslau was much smaller at 4,570 tons, and armed with 4.1-inch guns. Goeben had a nominal full speed of 26-27 knots, but was plagued with problems. Faults in her coal-fired boilers caused a loss of power and she spent July in  dock at Pola, the Austrian naval base at the head of the Adriatic. The boiler re-fit was incomplete when war broke out and, though unable to achieve a sustained speed more than 18 knots, she took to sea. [12] This should be borne in mind when considering why the Royal Navy failed to catch the Goeben on the open sea.

On the declaration of war Goeben and Breslau, were ordered to the coast of Algeria to disrupt the embarkation of the French X1X Corps bound for Marseilles and onward to deployment on the Western Front. [13] It would be no easy task. A combined British and French fleet of seventy-three warships was ranged against the only two enemy craft in the Mediterranean, for the Austrian fleet remained in port. France had sixteen battleships, (one of which was a modern dreadnought) six armoured cruisers and twenty four destroyers. The British fleet, based on Malta, comprised three battle cruisers, four armoured cruisers, four light cruisers, and sixteen destroyers. [ 14 ] The three battle cruisers displaced 18,000 tons, were capable of around 23 knots, and carried an armament of eight 12-inch guns. It was David against Goliath. Two warships, one wounded, against a veritable armada.

The British fleet was divided into two squadrons. The first, under Admiral Sir Berkeley Milne, comprised the three powerful battle cruisers. The second, with eight smaller cruisers and sixteen destroyers, was commanded by Rear-Admiral Sir Ernest Troubridge. Admiral Milne, Commander-in-Chief of the Mediterranean fleet ‘was an officer of inferior calibre, utterly lacking in vigour and imagination,’ and his appointment had been largely due to ‘Court influence.’ [15] Previously posted as Flag Officer, Royal Yachts, Milne was a close friend of the royal family and former groom in waiting to King Edward VII. When Churchill appointed him to the post, Admiral John Fisher, First-Sea-Lord, was outraged. He labelled Milne ‘an utterly useless’ commander, a ‘backstairs cad’ and a ‘serpent of the lowest type.’ [16] Was this the template for everyone in command at Gallipoli?

At midnight on 2 August Goeben and Breslau separately made their way west from Messina on the north east tip of Sicily for a rendezvous point south of Sardinia. Around 3.30 am on 4 August, as he neared the Algerian coast, Admiral Souchon received the following order from Berlin; ‘Alliance concluded with Turkey. Goeben and Breslau proceed at once to Constantinople.’ Having come so far, Souchon decided to bombard the French embarkation ports of Philippeville (now Skidda) and Bone (now Annaba), before heading east to Constantinople. Goeben and Breslau ‘crossed the path of the bulk of the French fleet, and were detected, not once but at least twice, during their run to and from North Africa. French Admiral Lapeyrere was reputedly ordered to set sail and stop them, but remained in port. [17] It was left to the Royal Navy to take action. What was going on?

The French Navy had by agreement in 1912 with Winston Churchill, assumed a major role in the Mediterranean, leaving the Royal Navy free to concentrate on the North Atlantic, the Channel and the North Sea. The target for the two German warships lay between the North African coast and Marseilles. The entire French navy was at liberty to seek out and destroy Goeben and Breslau yet, despite sighting the enemy, made no attempt to chase and destroy them. Why? Why was it so important that the task was left to the Royal Navy rather than the French? What was the real agenda?

[1] David Fromkin, A Peace to End All Peace, p. 57.
[2] Sidney B, Fay, Origins of the World War, vol 11, p. 531.
[3] Harry Elmer Barnes, The Genesis of the World War, p. 534. Kennan, Fateful Alliance, p. 161. Marc Trachtenberg, The Meaning of Mobilization in 1914, International Security, vol 15, issue 3.
[4] Fay, Origins of the World War, vol 11, p. 532.
[5] Fromkin, A Peace to End All Peace, p. 61.
[6] Alan Moorhead, Gallipoli, pp. 25-26.
[7] Fromkin, A Peace to End All Peace, p. 59.
[8] J S Ewart, The Roots and Cause of the Wars (1914-1918), p. 207.
[9] Sean McMeekin, The Russian Origins of the First World War, p. 103.
[10] Ibid., p. 106.
[11] Moorehead, Gallipoli, p. 26.
[12] Arthur J Mader, From the Dreadnought to Scapa Flow, vol II, pp., 20-21.
[13] Peter Hart, Gallipoli, p. 9.
[14] C.R.M.F. Crutwell, A History of the Great War, 1914-1918.
[15] Marder, From the Dreadnought to Scapa Flow, p. 21.
[16] Barbara Tuchman, The Guns of August, pp. 141-47.
[17] Dan Van der Vat, The Dardanelles Disaster, p. 32.