The day the entire German fleet surrendered

[Major Shaitan Singh]

Armistice Day is remembered as the day World War One ended, but for naval historians Britain's greatest victory came 10 days later. Operation ZZ was the code name for the surrender of Germany's mighty navy.
For those who witnessed "Der Tag" or "The Day" it was a sight they would never forget - the greatest gathering of warships the world had ever witnessed.

It was still dark in the Firth of Forth when the mighty dreadnoughts of the Royal Navy's Grand Fleet began to raise steam and one by one let slip their moorings.

The huge shapes of more than 40 battleships and battlecruisers began to ease out, course set due east. As the procession of steel headed for the open water of the North Sea, more than 150 cruisers and destroyers joined them. The mightiest fleet ever to sail from Britain's shores was heading for a final rendezvous with its mortal enemy - the German High Seas Fleet.

Victory would be total. But there was to be no battle. After four years of naval stalemate, this was the day when Germany would deliver her warships into British hands, without a shot being fired.
The date was 21 November 1918. World War One had ended on land 10 days earlier, but this was to be the decisive day of victory at sea.

After tense negotiation, Germany had agreed to deliver its fleet - the second biggest in the world behind only the Royal Navy - into the hands of the British. The mighty assembly steaming to meet the Germans was a reception committee so overwhelming that it would brook no changes of plan.

"The Royal Navy perceived something that others did not. They wanted to underline to the Germans that they had truly been defeated, and nothing does that better than having to surrender your fleet into the enemy's hands," explains Andrew Choong, Curator of Ships, Plans and Historic Photographs at the National Maritime Museum in Greenwich.

Operation ZZ saw the mightiest gathering of warships in one place on one day in naval history.
It was a sight those who saw it would never forget. The unnamed correspondent for the Times, watching from the deck of the British flagship the dreadnought HMS Queen Elizabeth, was overwhelmed:
"The annals of naval warfare hold no parallel to the memorable event which it has been my privilege to witness today. It was the passing of a whole fleet, and it marked the final and ignoble abandonment of a vainglorious challenge to the naval supremacy of Britain."

How does art help us remember World War One?
Two days earlier nine German battleships, five battlecruisers, seven cruisers and 50 destroyers had set sail, heading west. Under the terms of the Armistice which had ended the war they were to hand themselves over in the Firth of Forth, before being brought to the lonely Orkney anchorage of Scapa Flow.

It was a fleet built to challenge Britain's dominance at sea. Its construction had sparked a naval arms race which helped turn the two countries against one another.

As an island nation, dependent on imports to feed itself, Britain had to rule the waves. Defeat at sea by Germany could have led to blockade, possible starvation and surrender.

The commanders of the Royal Navy knew it was not an option. As Winston Churchill had said, Sir John Jellicoe, the admiral who led the Royal Navy until 1916, was "the only man on either side who could lose the war in an afternoon".

To avoid that possibility Britain built more warships and bigger warships than Germany. Throughout the war she held an advantage of roughly two-to-one in battleships and battlecruisers. Superiority in numbers was designed to make defeat in battle impossible, and bottle up the Germans on the other side of the North Sea.
It worked.

"A lot is said about how close Germany's U-boats came to strangling Britain in 1917, but if you turn it around, by early 1915 the seas were empty of German merchant ships," explains Andrew Choong.

"Germany's overseas trade was effectively shut off overnight. It ended up causing her major problems later in the war."

Crew of HMS Barham, 5th Battle Squadron, watch for the surrendered ships

The blockade of Germany meant that by 1918 it was the Germans who were hungry, not the British. Unrest followed, then a clamour for peace. For maritime historians like Andrew Choong, the strategic defeat of Germany at sea was an even greater British contribution to victory than the battles fought on land.
"I personally think the maritime contribution was our most important one, but not in battle. It was the quieter strangulation by blockade," he says.

As he led his fleet out of the Firth of Forth, Sir David Beatty, Jellicoe's successor as commander-in-chief of the Grand Fleet, could count on an overwhelming superiority to forestall any final show of German defiance. As well as his ships, he was joined by five American battleships and three French warships.
Nevertheless, he was taking no chances. His orders issued the night before were clear - ships were to be ready for action:

The German battleship Grosser Kurfuerst heads to the Firth of Forth

"Turrets and guns are to be kept in the securing positions, but free. Guns are to be empty with cages up and loaded ready for ramming home. Directors and armoured towers are to be trained on. Correct range and deflection are to be kept set continuously on the sights."

As the Grand Fleet sailed into the North Sea, it formed two massive columns, one to the north, one to the south, six miles apart. Just before 10:00 it met the Germans, being led to their surrender by the British light cruiser HMS Cardiff. The Allied columns swung round to due west, forming an overwhelming escort on either side of the Germans.

The Times correspondent described the scene:
"Between the lines came the Germans, led by the Cardiff, and looking for all the world like a school of leviathans led by a minnow. Over them flew a British naval airship. First came the battlecruisers, headed by the Seydlitz."

By late morning it was over. The German ships, missing one destroyer which had struck a mine and sunk, lay at anchor off the Isle of May in the outer reaches of the Firth of Forth, surrounded by their jailers. Beatty rammed home the message with a curt signal:

"The German flag will be hauled down at sunset today and will not be hoisted again without permission."

German Rear Admiral Otto Maurer steps aboard HMS Queen Elizabeth flagship

The German battlecruiser Hindenburg is photographed as it comes in to surrender

Before holding a service of thanksgiving on board HMS Queen Elizabeth, Beatty thanked the sailors of the Grand Fleet.

"My congratulations on the victory which has been gained over the sea power of our enemy. The greatest of this achievement is in no way lessened by the fact that the final episode did not take the form of a fleet action."

The Royal Navy stood at the apex of its power. Britannia truly ruled the waves. "As of that date, Britain was still the world's predominant naval power, and the world's second naval power had just placed its ships in our custody," Choong explains.

But it was not to last. Within a few months the German fleet would be at the bottom of Scapa Flow, scuttled by skeleton crews in a final act of defiance.
With no enemy left to face, and Britain desperate to slash military budgets, the Royal Navy could not justify the expense of its massive ships.

"The majority were scrapped between the 1920s and the early 1930s. A handful of the most capable went on to serve in World War Two," explains Choong.
At least one of the British battleships, HMS Hercules, was towed across the North Sea to meet her fate in a breakers yard in the German naval port of Kiel.

But as darkness fell on 21 November 1918 that was still in future. As buglers played "making sunset", cheers rang out from the sailors of the Grand Fleet. The Times correspondent knew he had witnessed a unique spectacle.

"The plan of the operation will not convey to the mind any conception of the scene, but it must be placed on permanent record, for it indicates a disposition of hostile fleets such as has never been seen before and will in all likelihood never be seen again."

HMS Queen Elizabeth and other British battleships in line

 

[Major Shaitan Singh]

The letter that reveals a brutal day at Scapa Flow

http://www.bbc.com/news/magazine-33113238




The mighty ships of the German High Seas Fleet were scuttled by their own sailors in Scapa Flow in Orkney on 21 June 1919. A newly discovered letter paints an extraordinary picture.
It was the single greatest loss of warships in history, and the sailors killed that day were the last fatalities of World War One.

One young British officer not only witnessed the astonishing events, but recorded his own dramatic involvement in an account which has remained unpublished until now.
Edward Hugh Markham David - Hugh, or "Ti" (short for "Tiny") to his family - was 18 years old in 1919, but had already been in the Royal Navy for two years.

By June he was a sub-lieutenant aboard the battleship HMS Revenge, flagship of Admiral Sir Sydney Fremantle.
Fremantle was the man charged with guarding the interned ships of the German High Seas Fleet in the Orkney anchorage of Scapa Flow.

On the morning of Sunday 21 June, the British fleet steamed out on exercise. Hundreds of miles away, in Paris, the wrangles over the peace treaty to officially end the Great War were reaching a climax. The fate of the magnificent German warships was due to be decided.

The German commander, Admiral Ludwig von Reuter, believed that his ships were about to be seized as spoils of war and divided up between the victorious Allies. He felt duty-bound not to let that happen.

A total of 52 ships sank to the seafloor
At 10:30 von Reuter's flagship, Emden, sent out the seemingly innocuous message - "Paragraph Eleven; confirm". It was a code ordering his men to scuttle their own ships.
Beneath decks, German sailors immediately began to open seacocks - valves that allow water in - and smash pipes.
There have been many accounts of the drama that followed, but Hugh David's version of events has never been published.

My Dearest Mummie, I am writing this at sea, after witnessing perhaps the grimmest and certainly the most pathetic incident of the whole war..."
David wrote the very next day to his mother from HMS Revenge, as the battleship steamed south to Cromarty, loaded with German sailors, now prisoners-of-war.

Even after nearly a century, the words are clear. So too are the feelings of the young man. In the emotion of telling his story, David got the date of his letter wrong - recording it as 26 June instead of 22 June.

HMS Revenge received a message at around 12:45 on 21 June that its captive German ships were sinking. The fleet turned back at full speed. It was too late.

"The sight that met our gaze as we rounded the Island of Flotta is absolutely indescribable," wrote David.
"A good half of the German fleet had already disappeared, the water was one mass of wreckage of every description, boats, carley floats, chairs, tables and human beings, and the 'Bayern' the largest German battleship, her bow reared vertically out of the water was in the act of crashing finally bottomwards, which she did a few seconds later, in a cloud of smoke bursting her boilers as she went."

The Germans took to small boats to escape their sinking ships. From one of them Admiral von Reuter was taken aboard HMS Revenge.

"About the most dramatic moment of the whole day was the meeting of the English and German Admirals," wrote David. "The two men were about the same height, both fine looking and tall."
As the German climbed wearily over the side there was a deadly hush on board. I was a few feet behind von Reuter so heard every word..."

Although von Reuter later recalled this conversation in his memoirs, David's record appears to be the only contemporaneous one:

"At first there was a pause, the German standing at the salute then the following conversation -
Fremantle: I presume you have come to surrender?
Von Reuter: I have come to surrender my men and myself (with a sweeping gesture towards the fast sinking ships) I have nudding else.
Pause
Von Reuter: I take upon myself the whole responsibility of this, it is nothing to do with my officers and men - they were acting under my orders.
Fremantle: I suppose you realise that by this act of treachery [hissing voice] by this act of base treachery you are no longer an interned enemy but my prisoner of war and as such will be treated.
Von Reuter: I understand perfectly.
Fremantle: I request you remain on the upper deck until I can dispose of you.
Von Reuter:May my Flag Lieutenant accompany me?
Fremantle: Yes, I grant you that.

The drama recorded by David took place at about 16:00 that Midsummer Day. It seems David was then ordered to join a boarding party to try to save the few German ships still afloat.
"I strapped a revolver round my waist grabbed some ammunition and leapt into the drifter with an armed guard and took off to save the Hindenburg," wrote David.

The Hindenburg was the biggest German battlecruiser. She sank as Hugh's small boat drew alongside but before he climbed on board "very nearly taking us with her."

By 1700 BST, as the last ship, the Hindenberg, went under, the surface of Scapa Flow was covered in oil and debris
David's launch turned instead for the giant battleship Baden, sister of the Bayern. She was the only German battleship the Royal Navy succeeded in saving.

"We then got alongside 'Baden' who was going down fast and hurried below to see what we could do to save her - we closed watertight doors which kept her up temporarily but she eventually had to be towed ashore," explained David.
"We found one little German sub-lieut (sic) below who was dragged onto the upper deck."
The flag captain told him he would be shot at sunset if he did not immediately take us below and show us how to shut off the valves..."

The German said that he didn't mind if he was shot straight away. David, however, doesn't record whether the unfortunate man was shot, but there's no doubt that others were. They were the final casualties of World War One - the Treaty of Versailles was signed a week later on 28 June 1919.

"The terrible part of the whole show, to my mind, was that the Huns hadn't got a weapon between them and it was our bounden duty to fire on them to get them back to close their valves," wrote David. He describes the British as being in an "awful position".

It was quite obvious that the huns would die to a man rather than save their ships so that there was no point in going on firing – yet what could we do?"
Andrew Choong, Curator of Ships, Plans and Historic Photographs at the National Maritime Museum in Greenwich, has read a transcript of David's letter.

"I think it's an absolutely fascinating account. Our knowledge and analysis of this event are based on the recollections of the great and the good, like von Reuter and official reports. I haven't ever seen an account of a similar experience. Here's a mid-level officer placed right in the middle of it all."

Choong was struck by David's feelings. "Here is a man who comes across first as a human being and is obviously very uncomfortable about the whole thing," he says.

"I think it's very moving because there is no relish in what he's doing and he finds time to mark the acts of German bravery. It's a remarkable document."

After his eventual return to Germany, von Reuter helped to put together a government report on "British breaches of international law" against the German sailors, charges consistently denied by Britain.

Choong says the British would have had justification to fire in some cases. "The rules of engagement were that if you saw a German opening a seacock or giving orders to others to do so you could order him to stop - and if he refused, you could shoot him," he says.

However, there's evidence, including in David's letter and a subsequent one he wrote a few days later to his Uncle Walter, to suggest some British sailors went further, firing on Germans who were trying to escape from their sinking ships.

"Today you would say there's probably no excuse, but that's to impose a modern view of the situation which then was very unclear and very uncertain," says Choong. "In one or two places in the letter it makes it sound like a bit of a massacre but in fact only nine men were killed and 16 wounded out of hundreds and hundreds."
The tumultuous events of that day clearly had their effect on Hugh David.
I have seen men killed for the first time in my life and at that without the crash of action to keep ones spirits up, and it has made me think, God, it has made me think..."

He died in 1957. His letter to his mother eventually passed to his daughter, Hilary Chiswell Jones. It was her decision to make it public, after 96 years.

"I probably didn't read it until I was 25 or so," explains Hilary. "I remember being impressed by the way he portrayed the event and also by his awareness of how awful it was for the Germans.

"He obviously had compassion for them and I admired him for it - I was pleased he showed it, especially at 18, when you tend to be perhaps a bit cocky. I thought that showed his humanity."

Does she think her father did fire on the German sailors?
"I think he would have told his Uncle Walter in his letter to him had he shot anyone, so I don't think so."
Within months of the scuttling, David had left the Royal Navy. He joined the fledgling RAF, where he served with distinction until 1950, rising to the rank of Group Captain.
But it seems unlikely he ever forgot the extraordinary things he witnessed at Scapa Flow.

 

[truthseeker2010]

the golden days of british navy........ but now just a part of history........

 

[somebozo]

How did a war-defeated bankrupt country assemble such a large armada of Land air and sea fighting machines remains a mystery!

 

[Red Spinifex]

It is wrong to say the German fleet surrendered. The ships of the German High Seas Fleet were interned under the terms of the Armistice while the ships' fate was being negotiated; while this was happening, the ships were ordered scuttled by Admiral Ludwig von Reuter rather than let them possibly fall into Allied hands.