WWI DARDANELLES DILEMMA RN GOEBEN GALLIPOLI SUVLA ANZAC

Dardanelles Dilemma

IV. The Escape

Admiral Souchon, like a Judge trying to see the plain issue out of many conflicting statements, sought the one decision which he owed to his country and service. Notwithstanding that last annoying telegram, he was still resolved to make for Turkish waters, hoping that he would be allowed to reach the Black Sea eventually and dominate the Russians. But such a design would be full of difficulties, and he must expect to succeed only by first fighting his way through British naval opposition. So his ships were cleared for action, and his men " cleaned " into fighting rig. At 5 p.m. on August 6 the Goeben left Messina, followed twenty minutes later by the Breslau. A speed of 17 knots was ordered. Two hours after his departure the S.S. General weighed and left likewise. She had painted her funnel black, obliterated her name, and was bound for a secret destination.

About 8 p.m. the daylight was ending, but already Souchon had been sighted an hour earlier by the Gloucester (Captain W. A. Howard Kelly), who had been watching at the southern end of Messina Straits, and it will always be a matter for regret that Malta's three submarines (B 9, B 10, B 11) had not also been sent to wait outside the Italian six-miles limit. As the reader will perceive in a later chapter, B 11 was mechanically so efficient and her commanding officer so daring that nothing but ill luck could have prevented this boat from torpedoing the Goeben. Admittedly the German battle-cruiser could have outranged and devastated the little Gloucester in a straight fight; but the latter would have been slightly superior to the Breslau, and then, with the assistance of night, could have contributed her share in completing the destruction of a Goeben badly listing and robbed of speed. But this was not to be, though the obvious lesson can never be forgotten.

The immediate contest was one of wits, and not of explosives.

Admiral Souchon would have preferred a North Sea fog, or at least one of those dark nights with thick drizzle. In hit mind was the one firm purpose of hurrying across the Adriatic mouth, round the Grecian peninsula, up the Aegean, through the fortified Dardanelles Straits to Constantinople, and not to be side-tracked by an engagement with British cruisers. As it turned out, this balmy summer's night was clear, moonlit, with fine weather; so that his only hope lay in pretence and speed, with a final reliance on his long-range Il-inch guns if the British attentions could not be shaken off. On the other hand, it was not less the Gloucester's task to avoid an engagement, but her essential duty was to keep the enemy in touch, so that Souchon's position could be wirelessed to Sir Berkeley Milne and to Rear-Admiral Troubridge. The latter was now lying with his four armoured cruisers Defence, Warrior, Duke 0f Edinburgh, Black Prince, and destroyers on the east side of the Otranto Straits below Corfu; since it was still believed that the Germans from Messina could be bound no whither than up the Adriatic to unite with the Austrian Fleet. The possibility of the Turco-Teutonic alliance, or of the desire to reach the Black Sea even now, had not been envisaged at Malta. And Souchon, with wise imagination, could guess what the British mind would be thinking.

So at first the German Admiral made a feint up the Adriatic : whilst the Breslau was allowed to drop astern and make towards Gloucester, the Goeben increased speed and stood off to the north-east, as if making for the Otranto Straits, At 10.a I p.m., however, she suddenly altered course, and not wishing to go farther out of her way than absolutely essential, swung to the south-east for the southern end of Greece. Captain Howard Kelly was not to be deceived, and could not be shaken off.. In the most annoying manner he regulated his speed, so that first the Goeben and then the Breslau was made to turn back and threaten the Gloucester away. It was rather like the case of two men in a desperate haste to catch a train, yet compelled to stop every few minutes and throw stones at a growling dog that will not be appeased.

And whilst these delaying tactics were proceeding through the night, a sub-contest went on in the respective wireless offices.

"Every attempt of the Gloucester to use her wireless," writes one of the Goeben's operators, " was skilfully frustrated by methods which had often been used with success. In exasperation she [Gloucester] jumped from one wave-length to another. But it was no use; at once our transmitter found the same wave-length and interrupted. This bitter, invisible struggle in the ether lasted for more than an hour." So the chase went on, and at 1.35 p.m. of August 7, being now off the Grecian coast, the Gloucester was distant about 13,000 yards from the Breslau, opening fire on the latter. We know from the above-quoted authority that the British cruiser's gunnery was so good at that range of nearly seven miles that one shell hit the German light cruiser on her water-line armour. The Goeben was compelled to turn back temporarily and open fire, thus again being delayed, which exactly coincided with Captain Kelly's intentions. Fifteen minutes were thus lost to the enemy in an all-important scurry. The pity of it—the pathetic tragedy—is that such excellent and solitary shadowing should have been unsupported. Where were the three British battle-cruisers ? Why could they not have been waiting off Cape Matapan ?

A few more of the Gloucester's 6-inch shells might have crippled Breslau so that the Goeben must either leave her to destruction, or else take her in tow and, with progress reduced to 6 or 7 knots, incur the most perilous delay.

But, alas! the old freedom of the seas, which belonged to sailing-ships, no longer obtains. The Gloucester had a fuel capacity of only 850 tons, and after all this fast steaming her bunkers were becoming empty. By 4.40 p.m. of the 7th, having watched her rivals up to the southern tip of Greece at Cape Matapan, she had to break off the chase, turn away, and lay a course for joining Admiral Troubridge. As she reported on her wireless, the operators in both German ships were busy jamming communication.

Now, this unexpected abandonment of pursuit gave great cheer to Souchon, who could at long last ease down and continue quietly; though not before this had become very necessary. For it was already a battle of boilers and engines against failure. Every spare officer and man in the Goeben had been sent below to help, the boiler tubes had collapsed under the strain, and four stokers had lost their lives. Her boiler brickwork had been badly burnt away, and altogether the flagship had been driven beyond breaking-point, yet even now she was not out of the danger region. That anxious night she proceeded furtively among the Aegean islands, with Breslau scouting ahead, half-expectant that at any moment the loom of a British destroyer might be the forerunner of a more powerful force. Avoiding traffic routes and lighthouses, they threaded their way, and finally sighted at noon something which had been much desired, yet might very likely have never taken shape.

Souchon, before quitting Messina, well recognised that if his ships should safely reach the Aegean, they would badly need fuel. For this reason, he had beforehand arranged that a German collier, disguised as a Greek coaster, should come out from the Piraeus and meet him. In case this steamer should fail to make the rendezvous, he had also instructed the previously mentioned liner General to make for the island of Santorin, which is seventy miles north of Crete. Thus there would be two possible sources of coal supply, and his anxiety might be halved.

He had come up from Cerigo to the north-east, left Syra to starboard, Tenos to port, and at noon sighted the Piraeus collier. This enabled him to send the General on to Smyrna, that principal seaport of Asia Minor, concerning which we shall have much to say in a subsequent chapter. It was for Souchon's purpose most convenient, as being in rail communication with Constantinople, and little more than 200 miles would be the distance for sending wireless messages to the Ottoman authorities. Souchon was in a critical position, and knew all too well that his safety must end in a few hours : he had been lucky to escape . . .