The Riddle of the Sands
spite of the dogmas of the strategists—for the ease transcends all
experience. No man can calculate the effect on our delicate economic
fabric of a well-timed, well-planned blow at the industrial heart of
the kingdom, the great northern and midland towns, with their teeming
populations of peaceful wage-earners. In this instance, however, joint
action (the occasion for which is perhaps not difficult to guess) was
distinctly contemplated, and Germany’s _rôle_ in the coalition was
exclusively that of invader. Her fleet was to be kept intact, and she
herself to remain ostensibly neutral until the first shock was over,
and our own battle-fleets either beaten, or, the much more likely
event, so crippled by a hard-won victory as to be incapable of
withstanding compact and unscathed forces. Then, holding the balance of
power, she would strike. And the blow? It was not till I read this
memorandum that I grasped the full merits of that daring scheme, under
which every advantage, moral, material, and geographical, possessed by
Germany, is utilised to the utmost, and every disadvantage of our own
turned to account against us.
Two root principles pervade it: perfect organisation; perfect secrecy.
Under the first head come some general considerations. The writer (who
is intimately conversant with conditions on both sides of the North
Sea) argued that Germany is pre-eminently fitted to undertake an
invasion of Great Britain. She has a great army (a mere fraction of
which would suffice) in a state of high efficiency, but a useless
weapon, as against us, unless transported over seas. She has a peculiar
genius for organisation, not only in elaborating minute detail, but in
the grasp of a coherent whole. She knows the art of giving a brain to a
machine, of transmitting power to the uttermost cog-wheel, and at the
same time of concentrating responsibility in a supreme centre. She has
a small navy, but very effective for its purpose, built, trained, and
manned on methodical principles, for defined ends, and backed by an
inexhaustible reserve of men from her maritime conscription. She
studies and practises co-operation between her army and navy. Her hands
are free for offence in home waters, since she has no distant network
of coveted colonies and dependencies on which to dissipate her
defensive energies. Finally, she is, compared with ourselves,
economically independent, having commercial access through her land
frontiers to the whole of Europe. She has little to lose and much to
gain.
The writer pauses here to contrast our own situation, and I summarise
his points. We have a small army, dispersed over the whole globe, and
administered on a gravely defective system. We have no settled theory
of national defence, and no competent authority whose business it is to
give us one. The matter is still at the stage of civilian controversy.
Co-operation between the army and navy is not studied and practised;
much less do there exist any plans, worthy of the name, for the repulse
of an invasion, or any readiness worth considering for the prompt
equipment and direction of our home forces to meet a sudden emergency.
We have a great and, in many respects, a magnificent navy, but not
great enough for the interests it insures, and with equally defective
institutions; not built or manned methodically, having an utterly
inadequate reserve of men, all classes of which would be absorbed at
the very outset, without a vestige of preparation for the enrolment of
volunteers; distracted by the multiplicity of its functions in guarding
our colossal empire and commerce, and conspicuously lacking a brain,
not merely for the smooth control of its own unwieldy mechanism, but
for the study of rival aims and systems. We have no North Sea naval
base, no North Sea Fleet, and no North Sea policy. Lastly, we stand in
a highly dangerous economical position.
The writer then deals with the method of invasion, and rejects the
obvious one at once, that of sending forth a fleet of transports from
one or more of the North Sea ports. He combats especially the idea of
making Emden (the nearest to our shores) the port of departure. I
mention this because, since his own scheme was adopted, it is
instructive to note that Emden had been used (with caution) as a red
herring by the inspired German press, when the subject was mentioned at
all, and industriously dragged across the trail. His objections to the
North Sea ports apply, he remarks, in reality to all schemes of
invasion, whether the conditions be favourable or not. One is that
secrecy is rendered impossible—and secrecy is vital. The collection of
the transports would be known in England weeks before the hour was ripe
for striking; for all large ports are cosmopolitan and swarm with
potential spies. In Germany’s case, moreover, suitable ships are none
too plentiful, and the number required would entail a large deduction
from her mercantile marine. The other reason concerns the actual
landing. This must take place on an open part of the east coast of
England. No other objective is even considered. Now the difficulty of
transshipping and landing troops by boats from transports anchored in
deep water, in a safe, swift, and orderly fashion, on an open beach, is
enormous. The most hastily improvised resistance might cause a
humiliating disaster. Yet the first stage is the most important of all.
It is imperative that the invaders should seize and promptly intrench a
pre-arranged line of country, to serve as an initial base. This once
done, they can use other resources; they can bring up transports, land
cavalry and heavy guns, pour in stores, and advance. But unless this is
done, they are impotent, be their sea-communications never so secure.
The only logical alternative is then propounded: to despatch an army of
infantry with the lightest type of field-guns in big sea-going
lighters, towed by powerful but shallow-draught tugs, under escort of a
powerful composite squadron of warships; and to fling the flotilla, at
high tide, if possible, straight upon the shore.
Such an expedition could be prepared in absolute secrecy, by turning to
account the natural features of the German coast. No great port was to
be concerned in any way. All that was required was sufficient depth of
water to float the lighters and tugs; and this is supplied by seven
insignificant streams, issuing from the Frisian littoral, and already
furnished with small harbours and sluice-gates, with one exception,
namely, the tidal creek at Norden; for this, it appeared, was one of
the chosen seven, and not, as “Carruthers” supposed, Hilgenriedersiel,
which, if you remember, he had no time to visit, and which has, in
fact, no stream of any value at all, and no harbour. All of these
streams would have to be improved, deepened, and generally canalised;
ostensibly with a commercial end, for purposes of traffic with the
islands, which are growing health resorts during a limited summer
season.
The whole expedition would be organised under seven distinct
sub-divisions—not too great a number in view of its cumbrous character.
Seawards, the whole of the coast is veiled by the fringe of islands and
the zone of shoals. Landwards, the loop of railway round the Frisian
peninsula would form the line of communication in rear of the seven
streams. Esens was to be the local centre of administration when the
scheme grew to maturity, but not till then. Every detail for the
movement of troops under the seven different heads was to be arranged
for with secrecy and exactitude many months in advance, and from
headquarters at Berlin. It was not expected that nothing would leak
out, but care was to be taken that anything that did do so should be
attributed to defensive measures—a standing feature in German
mobilisation being the establishment of a corps of observation along
the Frisian coast; in fact, the same machinery was to be used, and its
conversion for offence concealed up to the latest possible moment. The
same precautions were to be taken in the preliminary work on the spot.
There, four men only (it was calculated) need be in full possession of
the secret. One was to represent the Imperial Navy (a post filled by
our friend von Brüning). Another (Böhme) was to superintend the six
canals and the construction of the lighters. The functions of the third
were twofold. He was to organise what I may call the local labour—that
is, the helpers required for embarkation, the crews of the tugs, and,
most important of all, the service of pilots for the navigation of the
seven flotillas through the corresponding channels to the open sea. He
must be a local man, thoroughly acquainted with the coast, of a social
standing not much above the average of villagers and fishermen, and he
must be ready when the time was ripe with lists of the right men for
the right duties, lists to which the conscription authorities could
when required, give instant legal effect. His other function was to
police the coast for spies, and to report anything suspicious to von
Brüning, who would never be far away. On the whole I think that they
found the grim Grimm a jewel for their purpose.
As fourth personage, the writer designates himself, the promoter of the
scheme, the indispensable link between the two nations. He undertakes
to furnish reliable information as to the disposition of troops in
England, as to the hydrography of the coast selected for the landing,
as to the supplies available in its vicinity, and the strategic points
to be seized. He proposes to be guide-in-chief to the expedition during
transit. And in the meantime (when not otherwise employed) he was to
reside at Norderney, in close touch with the other three, and
controlling the commercial undertakings which were to throw dust in the
eyes of the curious. [Memmert, by the way, is not mentioned in this
memorandum.]
He speaks of the place “selected for the landing”, and proceeds to
consider this question in detail. I cannot follow him in his review,
deeply interesting though it is, and shall say at once that he reduces
possible landing-places to two, the flats on the Essex coast between
Foulness and Brightlingsea, and the Wash—with a decided preference for
the latter. Assuming that the enemy, if they got wind of an invasion at
all, would expect transports to be employed, he chooses the sort of
spot which they would be least likely to defend, and which,
nevertheless, was suitable to the character of the flotillas, and
similar to the region they started from. There is such a spot on the
Lincolnshire coast, on the north side of the Wash, _[See Map A]_ known
as East Holland. It is low-lying land, dyked against the sea, and
bordered like Frisia with sand-flats which dry off at low water. It is
easy of access from the east, by way of Boston Deeps, a deep-water
channel formed by a detached bank, called the Long Sand, lying parallel
to the shore for ten miles. This bank makes a natural breakwater
against the swell from the east (the only quarter to be feared); and
the Deeps behind it, where there is an average depth of thirty-four
feet at low-water, would form an excellent roadstead for the covering
squadron, whose guns would command the shore within easy range. It is
noted in passing that this is just the case where German first-class
battleships would have an advantage over British ships of the same
calibre. The latter are of just too heavy a draught to navigate such
waters without peril, if, indeed, they could enter this roadstead at
all, for there is a bar at the mouth of it with only thirty-one feet at
high water, spring tides. The former, built as they were with a view to
manœuvring in the North Sea, are just within the margin of safety. East
Holland is within easy striking distance of the manufacturing