After
the initial Japanese surprise attack against the Russians at Port Arthur, a
number of subsequent actions had occurred which sent conflicting signals to the
Admiralty at a time of great upheaval. Although the war had opened with a
Japanese torpedo attack, this weapon, which was purported to render the
battleship obsolete, performed poorly in the war. Certainly, the initial attack,
delivered in perfect conditions against anchored and unprepared ships, met with
some success; yet the damage was soon repaired. A second torpedo attack on Port
Arthur in a heavy snowstorm five days later failed completely. Overall, just two
per cent. of torpedoes fired at moving ships found their target.
Similarly, although enjoying one great success, the use of mines also did not
signal the end of the capital ship. On the night of 11/12 April 1904 the
Japanese mining-transport Koryo-Maru
sowed mines near the mouth of Port Arthur; on the morning of the 13th the
Russian flagship Petropavlovsk struck
a mine and sank within two minutes. While it was argued that this demonstrated
‘the inability of huge dimensions to save a ship’
the proposed new all-big-gun ship would be half as large again as the
unfortunate Russian vessel, a fact which led to the counter argument that
greater size gave greater protection through heavier armour and better
subdivision. Also, unlike torpedoes, mines were an indiscriminate weapon: in
fact, it was the opinion of some observers that the Russians had scored an own
goal by running over one of their own mines.
The one weapon which did emerge as a dominating factor was the 12-inch gun,
fired at ranges which would have seemed unthinkable a year before.
At the outbreak of the war, the Admiralty had two attachés stationed in
Tokyo: Captains Ernest Troubridge and Arthur Ricardo. Captain William Pakenham
was sent to join them in the hope that two of the officers would be able to
observe the anticipated battles while the third remained in Tokyo. The
Anglo-Japanese alliance had been signed in 1902 and relations between the two
navies were as close as the paternal mentality of the Royal Navy would allow.
Many of the Japanese ships had been designed and built in Britain and their
performance might, therefore, either lend support to, or denigrate, diverse
fashionable theories then current. For various reasons the Japanese would not
let Ricardo accompany the fleet and he left the country.
Troubridge, however, observed the initial actions before the arrival of Pakenham
who was in time to witness the crucial battle of 10 August. By this time
Troubridge had formed the impression, incorrectly, that Pakenham had been sent
to replace him and he, too, left the country. Ricardo and Troubridge were
replaced by Captains Jackson and Hutchinson; ironically the Japanese then
relented and allowed two observers to accompany the fleet.
For Troubridge, the brief opportunity so afforded would be his only
chance to witness battleships in action before the Great War; indeed, he would
be one of the few officers in the Royal Navy to have had experience of war
conditions. He left Japan with two impressions, one strategical and one
tactical. Admiral Togo had, unknown to his subordinates, received orders that he
was on no account to risk his fleet. Despite the vituperation of his officers
and aware of plots to assassinate him, Togo stuck to the spirit of his orders
knowing they were for the greater good and confident of the support of his
superiors, which was duly received. If the latter had not been forthcoming,
Troubridge later admitted, it would be thereafter impossible ever to give an
order to retire in the face of the enemy.
Tactically, Troubridge was overwhelmingly impressed by the immense importance of
long-range firing at a time when it was rumoured that some captains were
reluctant to fire guns in practice for fear of damaging paintwork.
‘Not much more than ten years ago’, the 1903 Naval
Annual reported, ‘it was not unusual for flag officers to go ashore to get
out of the firing, and if the gunnery lieutenant worried himself in the matter,
it was looked upon as part of the eccentric behaviour natural to a man cranky on
guns. All this has changed now.’
But had it? Prize firings were still conducted against a stationary target
moored at 1,600 yards. In reply to the objection that prize-firings were not
carried out under likely war conditions it was argued that, although the ranges were
increasing, the object of prize-firings was, ‘to keep keen the interest of the
men in shooting, and to draw out individual talent and aptitude, and that this
would not be done if prize-firing was carried out at ranges at which the men
could not mark the direction of their shots.’
Furthermore, the gunnery practice scores designed to encourage competition were
an unreliable guide. As Sumida notes, ‘firing conditions were unrealistically
easy’, and the methods used to compute the scores tended to give an
over-optimistic impression. The result was effectively to disguise the fact that
‘dreadnought gunnery in particular left much to be desired’.
In April 1903 Captain Percy Scott had been selected to command the
gunnery school, HMS Excellent at Whale Island, with a remit to introduce a new
system of training. Long range firings had been tried experimentally before:
Fisher himself had introduced it in 1900, when C-in-C, Mediterranean, as a
regular feature of fleet exercises and had achieved ‘very satisfactory’
results at ranges from 5,600 to almost 7,000 yards.
This, however, was the exception; ranges varied from station to station at the
whim of the C-in-C.
The problem remained the lack of a standard system of fire control. In the time-honoured
tradition the Admiralty appointed not one but two committees in September 1903
‘to carry out experiments on the whole problem of long-range firing.’
For three months during the winter of 1903-4, the battleships Victorious
of the Channel Fleet and Venerable of
the Mediterranean Fleet fired off round after round only to come, ultimately, to
differing conclusions. Of the Venerable’s
firing experiments at Prasa Island it was said:
Hundreds
of salvoes of ammunition had been fired and much coal and energy expended to
prove what to many was a self-evident fact — i.e. that you could not
efficiently fire the powerful and long-range batteries of a modern man-of-war by
the old plan of go as you please.
The
report of the Mediterranean Committee, delivered on 17 April 1904, differed in
its recommendations from that of the Channel Committee but was preferred by the
Admiralty. With carefully controlled fire, opening ranges could be as high as
8,000 yards with good prospects of hitting
— a start had been made, though there were to be many vicissitudes before long
range firing was raised to any form of art.
Any notion that the results achieved by Venerable
were in some way fanciful were soon disabused by the first report from Captain
Troubridge in Japan describing the actions of 9 and 25 February. Though written
on 28 February the dispatch took three months to reach the Admiralty, when it
coincided with the joint Channel-Mediterranean Committee recommendations. On the
morning of 9 February the Japanese had opened fire on the Russian ships and
forts at a range of 8,000 yards; Troubridge reported that ‘several shells fell
in Port Arthur itself at spots not much less than 12,000 yards from the guns
which discharged them.’
Troubridge was convinced that the deciding factor was the heavy gun, an argument
which was implicit in his assertion that, ‘It may be doubted whether any ship
of any country has ever practised firing at 8,000 metres and yet at that
distance three Russian cruisers were driven into harbour.’
From the point of view of the forthcoming Committee of Designs, which
would be appointed by Fisher in December 1904, the important action was that of
10 August, which was witnessed by Pakenham. His long-delayed report reached the
Admiralty in mid-October and contained what was referred to as the ‘momentous
paragraph’:
Compared
with peace practice, ranges of 10,000 and 12,000 metres sound preposterous, but
they are not really so. Firing begins to look possible at 20,000 metres,
reasonable at 14,000 metres; close range may be counted at setting in at about
10,000 metres, and at 5,000 metres ships might as well be alongside one
another…
Pakenham
recorded that the Russians had opened fire at the ‘extraordinary range’ of
18,000 metres and had fallen short by 218 yards. On that day, three huge shells
hurtled through the air, shot from moving targets, aimed at moving targets. Any
one might prove lethal; two would decide the outcome of the battle. The Japanese
flagship Mikasa was hit by a 12-inch projectile at 13,000 yards which, other
than for the smooth sea, might have proved fatal; however, two 12-inch shells
burst on the bridge and conning tower of the Russian flagship killing the
Admiral and causing the ship to sheer out of line as the helmsman fell dead over
the wheel. In the subsequent confusion amongst the Russians, the Japanese scored
heavily before their adversaries retreated to Port Arthur.
Although Fisher had already worked out the broad outlines for his
all-big-gun ships the dispatches would be crucial in either adding support to
his own theories or lending weight to the arguments of his opponents. As it
turned out, the reports proved decisive ‘in converting the Board and,
afterwards, in confirming it in the wisdom of the new design.’
This was particularly fortuitous, so far as the Board was concerned, as Pakenham
had been inadvertently misled as to the actual ranges at which the battle of 10
August was fought. The standard range finder at the time was four and a half
feet in length, allowing for accurate readings up to four thousand yards.
Due to the limitations of the equipment, in the heat of battle Pakenham was led
to overstate the range by some three thousand yards. He then calculated that an
additional figure should be added to this already inflated range to allow for
the fact that British gunnery was demonstrably superior.
It was also perhaps just as well that the Dreadnought’s
design had been finalized before the decisive battle of Tsushima on 27 May 1905
in which, in misty weather, the Japanese were able to close the range on the
inexperienced Russian crews and use their medium calibre weapons to great
effect. Also, the supposed ‘wisdom’ of the new British design did not extend
to such obvious errors as the poor layout of the main armament and the siting of
the tripod mast, vital for fire-control, immediately abaft the forward funnel
where it would be seriously affected by smoke and fumes. As Fisher initially
advocated the adoption of the 10-inch gun in Dreadnought and clearly was uncertain of the new methods of fire
control being introduced (particularly salvo-firing) it has been suggested that
he was more concerned with the financial savings to be achieved by using one
main calibre ammunition rather than the benefits of long-range gunnery. However,
influenced, in all probability, by Captain Reginald Bacon, the leading proponent
of all-12-inch armament, Fisher was converted to the 12-inch gun by the time he
had assumed the position of First Sea Lord.
The truth was that the real lessons of the war were ‘obscured by the
utterances of the First Sea Lord … who tended to quote the war as evidence in
support of his current ideas and, since these changed rapidly, so did the
lessons he read.’
It has also been argued that a determining factor in the quest for long
range shooting was the necessity to counter the threat posed by the torpedo,
when fired from surface craft.
There is no doubt that Fisher himself appreciated the danger. He advised
Selborne in 1902: ‘ Don’t get inside 4,000 yards of the enemy (even though we are
suffering from want of accuracy in gunfire due to want of velocity), because, as
sure as you do, the torpedo will get in …’
But how real was the threat? At that time the torpedo was still an imperfect
weapon. The adoption of the gyroscope at the turn of the century was
instrumental in allowing for ranges in excess of 800 yards. Even so, by 1904, so
far as was known, no nation had ‘any considerable number of torpedoes capable
of running much more than 2000 yards. Moreover the speed of existing torpedoes
at this range is low, some 20 knots at the most.’ A leading naval journal
doubted whether a torpedo could be expected to hit a ship at a range of 2,000
yards, though the probability would increase dramatically if the torpedo was
fired at a line of ships. Rumours were current, however, that Whitehead was
constructing an experimental 18-inch torpedo at Fiume capable of running 3,300
yards.
The next major advance reported in the field of torpedo engineering was
the incorporation of a heater to increase the available energy. At trials in
Weymouth in December 1906 it was demonstrated ‘that a torpedo fitted with a
heater could travel for double the distance at a given speed.’ Rather than
apply this gain to the range,however, it was at first utilized to increase the
speed, over 2,000 yards, from 26 knots to 33.5 knots (and subsequently 35.3
knots).
Within a year, the maximum speed had increased to 38 knots at 2,000 yards. But
this gain remained a compromise: to achieve longer range it was necessary to
sacrifice speed. Thus, by 1908, a range of 4,000 yards was possible but at a
reduced speed of 28 knots.
It was only in 1909, five years after Fisher’s arrival as First Sea Lord, that
the torpedo became a real, rather than an imagined, threat. The new torpedo
invented by Engineer-Lieutenant Hardcastle was then reported to have an
effective range of 7,000 yards and a speed of 31 knots.
It is clear that, when Fisher became First Sea Lord in 1904, the actual
threat from the torpedo, when fired from a torpedo boat or destroyer, was
exaggerated. Nevertheless, it has to be accepted that the perceived
threat did influence the quest for accurate long range gunnery,
though only in so far as this related to the visible threat posed by surface
craft. As Marder has pointed out, ‘So long as a torpedo craft had to come
within a range of a few thousand feet of her prey before she could hope to
discharge her torpedo with any reasonable prospect of success, it might be safe
to rely on an armament of 3-pounder guns to stop her in time. But when the range
of the torpedo rapidly grew to 7,000 yards, and destroyers became larger, it
manifestly became necessary to employ a much heavier armament to stop the
torpedo craft in time.’
From this, it could be argued that it was the increase in size of the delivery
vessel (the destroyer) as well as the increase in the range of the torpedo which
necessitated accurate long range fire. In any event, long range fire was of no
benefit when the delivery vessel was invisible — no size of gun was a defence
against a submerged submarine. And it is clear that Fisher was fully alive to
the submarine menace.
There is, however, one factor, not widely mentioned, which also might have
weighed heavily on Fisher and influenced his push for longer ranges. When
C-in-C, Mediterranean, Fisher had informed Selborne: ‘Also (I speak from
experience) there is nothing more
demoralizing than to be fired at without firing back. The Italian Admirals
all told me last year they had made excellent practise at 7,000 yards and
intended following the French in firing at long ranges …’
The diverse engagements of the Russo-Japanese war (with the exception of
Tsushima) appeared to vindicate those in favour of adopting the 12-inch gun;
but, no less, they highlighted the other, and equally controversial, aspect of
the proposed Dreadnought design (and
more so of the new all-big-gun cruisers) — speed. Not only was additional
speed expensive to produce, it was also asserted that ‘speed may be purchased
at too great a price by the loss of protection, gun power, or range of
action.’
Admiral Sir Cyprian Bridge had no doubt that those ‘who expected to find in
the operations of the 1904 campaign any proof of the value of a superiority in
speed will be disappointed.’
The attachés on the spot though were convinced that speed was crucial for the
purpose of catching the Russians who were always trying to escape. Pakenham had
written of the 10 August action that the Japanese were limited to the speed of
their slowest unit, a mere 15 knots, (although this was slightly faster than the
Russians) and that ‘This prevented Togo from improving his tactical position
and allowed the enemy to regain the shelter of Port Arthur when light failed.’
There was no need for proselytizing where Fisher was concerned: he had been
promoting the values of speed for years.
In papers presented by Fisher to the Board in support of the designs for the
all-big-gun battleship Dreadnought and
its cruiser equivalent Invincible use
was again made of the Attachés’ reports. The two main actions in the
Russo-Japanese war were utilized to provide examples demonstrating the superior
offensive capability provided by extra speed. ‘The Invincible
class’, it was confidently but incorrectly asserted, ‘must be regarded as
fast battleships rather than armoured cruisers…’
Argument would continue to rage, over the Dreadnought
in particular, shifting from the technical aspects of the new design to the
longer term implications involved in starting from scratch with a new weapon,
thereby sacrificing the lead that had been gained at such great expense in what
were now termed, almost derisively, pre-Dreadnoughts.
There is no doubt that the advent of the Dreadnought seriously disrupted German
naval plans and that, at that particular moment, Britain was in an unrivalled
position to build such a ship.
The German design for a mixed-calibre battleship, due to be laid down in 1906,
was hastily revised and then cancelled. A further year was lost while the design
was completely redrafted for a larger ship;
the plans of Admiral Tirpitz lay in ruins. He had ‘believed that he could
catch up with Britain and reduce her numerical superiority sufficiently to
obtain a political lever against her. But by building the Dreadnought, Fisher
had added to the Anglo-German arms race a qualitative
dimension which caught Tirpitz unprepared.’
Fisher, typically, ventured another reason: ‘The German Admiralty wrestled
with the Dreadnought problem for 18 months and did nothing. Why?
Because it meant spending 12½ millions sterling on widening and deepening the
Kiel Canal and in dredging all their harbours and all the approaches to their
harbours, because if they did not do so it would be no use building German
Dreadnoughts, because they couldn’t float anywhere in the harbours of
Germany!’
Although the subsequent Nassau class
of German battleships, which were laid down in the summer of 1907, featured a
uniform main armament of 12 x 28 cm (11.1-inch) guns, they had to be given
reciprocating engines, as German engineering lagged behind in the production of
a suitable turbine, leaving them two knots slower than Dreadnought. Tirpitz apparently favoured the use of turbines in
cruisers only and was backed by his Construction Department; besides, suspicions
were aroused within the Imperial Marine Office that the British-designed
Parsons’ turbines supplied to Germany (which were all that was currently
available) were not as well engineered as those supplied to the British. Even
so, to attain the necessary speed which was the rationale of the class, the
Germans had but little choice other than to use Parsons’ equipment for their
all-big-gun armoured cruisers to be built in response to the Invincible
class.
Fisher
placed great faith in his ‘Invincibles’: in the 1905-06 programme three such
ships were to be laid down as against only one Dreadnought and, as mentioned,
the possibility exists that Fisher’s promotion of Dreadnought
was primarily as a means to ensure the building of the all-big-gun cruisers.
Fisher informed the First Lord (and anyone else who would care to listen)
that, in his opinion, the Invincibles
were superior to the Dreadnought;
however, as with many of his ideas, these vessels ‘represented a good concept,
poorly thought through’.
The progress of cruiser design had been rapid in the previous decade. The advent
of, first, the Harvey process and then Krupp’s armour in the 1890s allowed the
possibility of vastly better protected cruisers with a concomitant addition to
their various rôles. The so-called “protected” cruisers of the time
depended, in the main, on a protective deck covering the machinery and other
vital spaces. As such, they were utilized for commerce protection and scouting
for the fleet. The “armoured” cruiser became feasible in 1897 when Krupp’s
new process allowed the addition of side armour sufficiently tough to withstand
steel 6-inch shell but which did not greatly increase the size and cost of the
ship.
The first such armoured cruisers, the Cressy
class of 1899-1901, were designed to counter a specific French threat. What they
were not designed for was to participate in a fleet action where their main
armament (9.2-inch) would be insufficient to inflict serious damage against a
modern battleship while their armour could not withstand 12-inch gunfire.
Nevertheless, the Director of Naval Construction, Sir William White, was perhaps
carried away with the possibility that, in certain circumstances, up-to-date
cruisers could engage battleships. ‘There seems absolutely no reason, under
modern conditions,’ he reported, ‘why first-class cruisers should hold aloof
if designed and constructed suitably. This has become true largely through
improvements in armour and armaments in the last few years. If cruisers are to
be built capable of fighting with battleships in fleet actions, they must be
given such protection to buoyancy,
stability, guns, and crews, as will enable them to come to close quarters with
the enemy without running undue risks.’
This might conceivably have held true with some of the weaker battleships then
being built (for example, the German Kaiser
class armed with a main battery of only 4 x 9.4-inch); however the subsequent
blurring of functions would result in a fundamental misconception of the rôle
of the cruiser in modern warfare.
Following the six Cressys came
the two Duke of Edinburgh class of
1902-03, then four Warrior class of
1903-04, culminating in three Minotaur
class of 1904-05. These last were large and expensive ships: 490 feet long,
weighing 14,600 tons, mounting 4 x 9.2-inch and 10 x 7.5-inch guns and capable
of steaming at 23 knots. One of them, Defence,
would be the flagship of the First Cruiser Squadron in the Mediterranean on the
outbreak of war in 1914 under the command of Rear-Admiral Troubridge. These
ships cost, on average, £1.4 million apiece. By comparison, the two battleships
provided for in the same estimates, Lord
Nelson and Agamemnon, although
shorter (410 feet), heavier (16,500 tons) and slower (18 knots) were much better
protected and more heavily armed yet cost £1.54 million each, not too great an
advance on the cost of the cruisers. Speed, Fisher’s watchword, was therefore
bought at a high price and not just in monetary terms; these huge cruisers were
also extravagant in their manning requirements, needing complements not far less
than battleships. By the time the Minotaur class was laid down, early in 1905, the dissipation of the
Russian and French threats to commerce looked as if it might all but remove the
need for large numbers of armoured cruisers. The identification of Germany, with
its limited number of these vessels, as the potential enemy and, therefore, the
North Sea as the main battle area thereby focused attention on the requirements
of the Fleet in a general action.
Recent experience of cruisers in action was provided by the Japanese
victory at Tsushima on 27 May 1905. Togo’s fleet comprised four battleships
and eight armoured cruisers: after the initial contact and damage to the Russian
Baltic Fleet contemporary accounts stirringly refer to the whole of the Japanese
armoured cruiser squadron following in the wake of the battle squadron to
administer the coup de grâce at short
range. It was also known at the Admiralty by the end of 1904 that the Japanese
were laying down a pair of fast armoured cruisers carrying 4 x 12-inch guns.
Such ships would be capable of performing a number of tasks including
reconnaissance, support of smaller ships, hunting down marauding enemy cruisers,
and assisting in a fleet action by virtue of their high speed.
The Minotaur class was simply
not powerful enough to accomplish all these tasks; however the proposed
replacement, Fisher’s Invincibles,
would go too far in redressing the balance: they would be ‘far too large and
too costly for the ordinary duties of cruisers’, maintained Lord Brassey who
thought it reasonable to conclude, following a recent speech by the First Lord,
‘that the intention is to utilise them as battleships’.
The distinction was about to be blurred further. Recent armoured cruisers had
developed analogous to battleships: thus the Duke
of Edinburgh class contained many of the features of the King
Edward VII battleships, while the Minotaur
class had its homologue in the Lord
Nelson class.
The obvious step was for the next class to shadow the Dreadnought. As long ago
as 1902 Fisher had worked out designs for a 25 knot armoured cruiser, in
conjunction with the Chief Constructor W. H. Gard.
By 1904, when he began to wonder if battleships were obsolete, Fisher’s
preference for a fast, heavily-armed cruiser (a concept he termed “armed
speed”) was so marked that the distinction became non-existent; he referred to
the large armoured cruiser as a ‘battleship in disguise’. The First Progress
Report of Fisher’s Committee on Designs would go further by maintaining that
the proposed ships would be ‘in reality, fast battleships’.
Finding a suitable rôle
for these hybrid ships would bedevil the Admiralties of various countries for
years; in Britain the problem was never satisfactorily solved.
As late as 1913, one officer could lament that there existed ‘no official
pronouncement on the functions of the battle-cruisers, or even on the cause of
their existence’.
In
Germany, if the ships did have a purpose it appeared at times to be no more than
to counter the very specific threat posed by the British ships. The one proposal
to merge the concept of battle cruiser and battleship appears to have fallen
foul of the variable over which Fisher had no control — money. An Admiralty
project (tentatively labelled “X4”) of December 1905 for a new type of ship
seems to have been an attempt by Fisher to have constructed ‘the
all-conquering battlecruiser.’ Following his reasoning to its logical
conclusion, this massive ship was to have displaced 22,500 tons, with a main
armament of ten 12-inch guns and a speed of 25 knots: thus combining the speed
of the battle cruiser and the firepower and armour of the battleship. However
the Admiralty Committee Report of January 1906 on the fast battleship concept
concluded that the purpose of new construction should be to add more gunfire to
the Fleet ‘rather than greatly increased speed.’
The proposal to build X4 also coincided with the return of the Liberal
Government; perhaps recognizing that the money would not be available, the
project sank without trace and the Admiralty was forced to build ‘less
ambitious’ ships which, due to the financial constraints, were little more
than repeats of Dreadnought and Invincible.
If
nothing else, at least Fisher could take comfort from the disruption, which was
greater than expected, caused to German shipbuilding by the launch of the new
designs. Design work began on the German equivalent of the fast armoured cruiser
in August 1906 though the vessel was not laid down till March 1908 and, due to
the slower building times in German yards, the ship would not be ready for
commissioning trials till September 1910. What emerged then however, in the form
of the von der Tann, was a superior
fighting ship to the ‘Invincibles’. Worse, when the subsequent Indefatigable class was laid down in Britain under the 1908-09
programme, the mistakes of the Invincible class were repeated, an extraordinary
oversight given the three year lapse between classes.
The subsequent German class, comprising Moltke
and Goeben, represented a great improvement and would have given Germany
the lead in this particular design had the building time been faster. Goeben,
for example, took exactly three years from the date of her laying down (28
August 1909) till the completion of her trials (28 August 1912). By this time
the third generation of British ships, the Lion
class, had been completed or were near completion. Britain maintained the
quantitative edge, though not, overall, the qualitative in spite of the fact
that the latest class featured the excellent 13.5-inch gun.
The confusion over the rôle of these ships extended to their
nomenclature. The 1907 Naval Annual
referred to the Invincibles as ‘three armoured cruisers (or battleships)’;
by 1908 they had become ‘three armoured cruisers (or cruiser battleships)’;
Fisher referred to one in September 1908 as a ‘very fast big-gun battle
cruiser’.
By 1912 they were universally known as ‘battle cruisers’ and were classed as
capital ships, that is, ships capable of lying in the line of battle, a task for
which they were never intended
despite Fisher’s proclivity. ‘Investigation’, noted one officer in 1913,
‘shows that the battle-cruiser is really a fast battleship and nothing
more’.
The German designs, aided by savings of weight in machinery, were able to
provide a much better system of protection, without sacrificing speed.
That the confusion continued unabated is demonstrated by the fact that the
Admiralty planned to revert to a 9.2-inch armoured cruiser in the 1908-09
programme, only to cancel the plans when it emerged that the German armoured
cruisers would, in all likelihood, be superior to the ‘Invincibles’.
The plan of naval construction originally formulated by Lord Selborne in
1902 called for the laying down annually of three battleships and four armoured
cruisers; however, once the designs of Dreadnought
and Invincible had been settled,
fiscal considerations and the pre-emptive purchase of two battleships being
built in British yards for Chile reduced the 1905-06 programme to one battleship
– Dreadnought itself – and the
three large armoured cruisers, Invincible,
Indomitable and Inflexible,
that Fisher really hankered after. In December 1905, just days before the
resignation of the Conservative Government, the Board of Admiralty announced a
further deviation from the Selborne proposal of 1902 regarding the number of
ships to be laid down. ‘At the present time’, Lord Cawdor noted,
‘strategic requirements necessitate an output of four large armoured ships
annually, and unless unforeseen contingencies arise, this number will not be
exceeded.’ The four large armoured ships at the time (the 1905-06 programme)
comprised Dreadnought, which had
recently been laid down, and the three Invincible class battle cruisers, due to be laid down early in 1906.
Although various economies, outlined by Cawdor, allowed for a significant
reduction in the estimates, a word of caution was added: ‘the public cannot
rely on this reduction being continued in future years if foreign countries make
developments in their shipbuilding programmes which we cannot now foresee, but
the programme of shipbuilding we have in view for future years, and have
provided for, will meet all the developments of which the resources of foreign
countries seem at present capable.’
The general election of January 1906 returned a Liberal Government
committed to reduce spending on defence; even so, the incoming First Lord,
Tweedmouth, provisionally accepted the 1906-07 estimates which had already been
prepared and which provided for a further four large armoured vessels.
Anticipating the likely demands for economy, the Admiralty prepared their
counter argument in The Building Programme
of the British Navy (15 February 1906) maintaining that any reduction from
Cawdor’s proposed four armoured ships would only lead, inevitably, to ‘a
very great increase upon the present
programme’ a year or two hence. Undermining this argument though was the
continued inability of any other country to lay down a single Dreadnought.
Although the new estimates, so generously bequeathed by the Conservatives, were
initially approved by Parliament the new Liberal Chancellor, Asquith, continued
to press for further cuts, writing to Tweedmouth on 24 May that his demands
would be unaffected by anything Fisher could say. Two days later the Sea Lords
met at the Admiralty and agreed to drop one of the four armoured vessels. When,
therefore, a delegation of 120 MPs of the Reduction of Armaments Committee
approached the Prime Minister, Campbell-Bannerman, he was able to inform them
that the Sea Lords were not opposed to reductions. In addition, the forthcoming
Hague Peace Conference held out the tenuous hope of multilateral arms
reductions; believing that a display of moderation would not go unnoticed, the
Government persuaded the Admiralty on 12 July to drop a second ship, which,
however, could be reinstated if the Conference failed to secure an agreement.
Fisher was an amenable player in this cynical exercise, convinced that three
ships would be laid down ‘because the Hague Conference will be futile’. On
the other hand, the Opposition, the Navy League, and the navalist press all saw
matters differently and there was the usual outrage.
Nevertheless, with a material advantage in the offing and Germany
identified as the ‘only potential foe’ the Admiralty had also decided in
July on a reorganization leading to an increased concentration in northern
waters. The following month, on 18 August, the various Commanders-in-Chief were
confidentially informed of the scope of the reductions. At once Admiral Sir
Charles Beresford divined the “real reason”: ‘the whole object of the
reductions was to save money by avoiding the necessity of increasing the personnel
to the number required to reinforce the reserve crews, and by economizing on the
maintenance of ships in full commission.’ The result would be, he charged, to
leave the Mediterranean Fleet ‘weakened and inadequate’. Furthermore, the
reductions below the required tactical strength would gravely interfere with
training. Beresford would later complain that, during his tenure in the
Mediterranean, ‘proper strategical and tactical exercises became
impossible.’
His arguments would not prevail. As Fisher was subsequently to write:
Our
only probable enemy is Germany. Germany keeps her whole Fleet always concentrated within a few hours of England. We
must therefore keep a Fleet twice as powerful concentrated within a few hours of
Germany…The Board of Admiralty…have decided to form a new Home Fleet always
at home, with its Headquarters at the Nore and its cruising ground the North
Sea… The only way to obtain this new “Home Fleet” is by moving six
battleships and four armoured cruisers from the Channel, Mediterranean, and
Atlantic Fleets (observing that these 3 Fleets are 50 per cent stronger than the
present political situation demands), and combining them with the best of the
battleships in Reserve....
The
Mediterranean Squadron was reduced to six battleships at which strength it would
remain until the great debate of 1912.
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