The night was clear and the visibility exceptional even at
two in the morning when officers on Scharnhorst’s bridge first made out the
dark masses of the Falkland Islands on the northern horizon. The early summer
dawn three hours later promised a rare, cloudless day, the first in weeks. At
5:30 a.m., Admiral von Spee signaled Gneisenau and Nürnberg to leave the
squadron and proceed to reconnoiter Port Stanley. The admiral, with
Scharnhorst, Dresden, and Leipzig, would remain to the south, while his three
colliers waited off Port Pleasant, a bay twenty miles southwest of Port
Stanley. As the sun came up, Captain Maerker and Commander Hans Pochhammer of
Gneisenau got a better look at the coast, whose capes, bays, and hills they
identified with the aid of compass, binoculars, and maps. On deck, a landing
party was assembling; Pochhammer looked down from the bridge at the men in
white gaiters carrying rifles, one oddly bringing his gas mask. As promised,
the summer morning was near perfect: the sea was calm, with only a slight breeze
from the northwest gently rippling the surface; the sky was high, clear, and
azure. Port Stanley was hidden from the south by a range of low hills, but by
seven o’clock, as they came closer, Maerker and Pochhammer could see their
first target, the radio mast on Hooker’s Point. They also noticed, near the
place where the Cape Pembroke lighthouse stood at the tip of a sandy,
rock-strewn peninsula, a thin column of smoke. It appeared to rise from the
funnel of a ship.
The British squadron began to coal early that summer
morning. By 4:30 a.m., the collier Trelawny was secured to the port side of
Invincible and at 5:30 a.m. all hands had been summoned to begin coaling. By
two hours later, when the crew was piped to breakfast, 400 tons had been taken
aboard. Coaling never resumed that day. Just after 7:30 a.m., a civilian
lookout in the observation post on Sapper Hill saw two columns of smoke on the
southwestern horizon. He raised his telescope, then picked up his telephone and
reported to Canopus: “A four-funnel and a two-funnel man of war in sight
steering northwards.” (Nürnberg had three funnels, but because of the angle of
the approaching ship, the spotter missed one.)
At 7:45 a.m., Canopus received the Sapper Hill message.
Because there was no land line between the grounded Canopus and Sturdee’s
flagship in the outer harbor, Captain Grant could not pass along the message by
telephone. And because Invincible was out of sight, hidden from him by
intervening hills, he could not signal visually. Glasgow, however, was anchored
in a place from which she could see both Canopus and Invincible. Accordingly,
Canopus hoisted the signal “Enemy in sight.” Glasgow saw it and, at 7:56 a.m.,
Luce raised the same flags on his own mast. There was no response from
Invincible, busy coaling and surrounded by a haze of coal dust. Impatiently,
Luce, still in his pajamas, snapped at his signal officer, “Well, for God’s
sake, do something. Fire a gun, send a boat, don’t stand there like a stuffed
dummy.” The firing of a saluting gun and its report echoing through the harbor
attracted attention. By training a powerful searchlight on Invincible’s bridge,
Glasgow passed the message. Meanwhile, Luce said to his intelligence officer, “
‘Mr. Hirst, go to the masthead and identify those ships.’ Halfway up,” Hirst
said, “I was able to report, ‘Scharnhorst or Gneisenau with a light cruiser.’ ”
Spee had achieved complete surprise. Sturdee, not imagining
the possibility of any threat to his squadron, had made minimal arrangements
for its security. The armed merchant cruiser Macedonia was slowly patrolling
outside the mouth of the harbor. The armored cruiser Kent, assigned to relieve
Macedonia and the only warship that could get up full steam at less than two
hours’ notice, was anchored in Port William. Invincible, Inflexible, Carnarvon,
and Cornwall also were anchored in Port William; Bristol and Glasgow were in
the inner harbor where Canopus was grounded. By eight o’clock, only Carnarvon
and Glasgow had completed coaling and Carnarvon’s decks still were stacked with
sacks of coal. Kent, Cornwall, Bristol, and Macedonia had not yet begun to
replenish their bunkers; they would fight that day with what remained from
Abrolhos. Bristol had closed down her fires for boiler cleaning and opened up
both engines for repairs, and Cornwall had one engine under repair. In
Cornwall’s wardroom, her officers, many already in civilian clothes, were
breakfasting on kippers, marmalade, toast, and tea and making plans for a day
of shooting hares and partridges on the moors behind the town.
The sound of Glasgow’s gun found Admiral Sturdee in the act
of shaving. An officer raced to the admiral’s quarters, burst in, and announced
that the Germans had arrived. Later, Sturdee was reported to have replied,
“Send the men to breakfast.” After the war, Sturdee gave his own version of the
moment: “He [Spee] came at a very convenient hour because I had just finished
dressing and was able to give orders to raise steam at full speed and go down
to a good breakfast.” It was said of Sturdee that “no man ever saw him
rattled.” Nevertheless, while the admiral may have been pleased by the luck
that had brought the enemy so obligingly to his doorstep, he may also have
wondered whether perhaps the greater luck was on Spee’s side. The situation of
the British squadron was awkward; Kent was the only warship ready to fight. It
was possible that Spee might boldly approach Port Stanley harbor with his
entire squadron and unleash a storm of 8.2-inch shells into the crowd of ships
at anchor. In the confined space of the harbor, some British ships would mask
the fire of others and Sturdee would be unable to bring more than a fraction of
his superior armament to bear. Accurate salvos from Scharnhorst and Gneisenau
might damage, even cripple, the battle cruisers. Even once the British ships
raised steam, Spee still might stand off the harbor entrance and subject each
vessel to a hail of shells or a volley of torpedoes as it emerged. With these
apprehensions in every mind, all eyes were on the flagship to learn what steps
Sturdee intended to take.
At 8:10, signal flags soared up Invincible’s halyards. Kent,
the duty guard ship, was ordered to weigh anchor immediately and proceed out
through the mine barrier to protect Macedonia and keep the enemy under observation.
The battle cruisers were told to cast off their colliers so as to leave
themselves freer to fire even while they were still at anchor. All ships were
ordered to raise steam and report when they were ready to proceed at 12 knots.
Carnarvon was to clear for action, to sail as soon as possible, and to “engage
the enemy as they come around the corner” of Cape Pembroke. Canopus was to open
fire as soon as Gneisenau and Nürnberg were within range. Macedonia, unfit for
battle against warships, was ordered to return to harbor. Having issued his
orders, Sturdee went to breakfast.
At 8:20 a.m., the observation station on Sapper Hill
reported more smoke on the southwestern horizon. At 8:47, Canopus’s fire
control station reported that the first two ships observed were now only eight
miles off and that the new smoke appeared to be coming from three additional
ships about twenty miles off. Meanwhile, bugles on all the ships in the harbor
were sounding “Action,” the crews were busy casting off the colliers, smoke was
pouring from many funnels, and the anchorage was covered with black haze. The
engine room staffs aboard Cornwall and Bristol hurried to reassemble their
dismantled machinery.
Sturdee’s breakfast was short. He was on deck at 8:45 a.m.
to see Kent moving down the harbor to take up station beyond the lighthouse.
“As we got near the harbor entrance,” said one of Kent’s officers, “I could see
the smoke from two ships on our starboard over a low-lying ridge of sand.” It
would be another hour before the battle cruisers and Carnarvon could weigh
anchor, and still longer before Cornwall and Bristol were ready.
At the Admiralty, few details were known and the worst was
feared. At 5:00 p.m. London time, Churchill was working in his room when
Admiral Oliver, now Chief of Staff, entered with a message from the governor of
the Falkland Islands: “Admiral Spee arrived at daylight this morning with all
his ships and is now in action with Admiral Sturdee’s whole fleet which was
coaling.” “These last three words sent a shiver up my spine,” said Churchill.
“Had we been taken by surprise and, in spite of our superiority, mauled,
unready, at anchor? ‘Can it mean that?’ I said to the Chief of Staff. ‘I hope
not,’ was all he said.”
“As we approached,” said the commander of Gneisenau, “signs
of life began to appear. Here and there behind the dunes, columns of dark
yellow smoke began to ascend . . . as if stores [of coal] were being burned to
prevent them falling into our hands. In any case, we had been seen, for among
the mastheads which could be distinguished here and there through the smoke,
two now broke away and proceeded slowly east towards the lighthouse. . . .
There was no longer any doubt that warships were hidden behind the land. . . .
We thought we could make out first two, then four, then six ships . . . and we
wirelessed this news to Scharnhorst.”
The Germans, up to this point, had little premonition of
serious danger. Then Gneisenau’s gunnery officer, Lieutenant Commander Johann
Busche, staring through his binoculars from the spotting top on the foremast,
believed that he saw something ominous: tripod masts. When he reported this to
the bridge, Captain Maerker curtly dismissed the observation. Tripod masts
meant dreadnoughts, Busche was told, and there were no dreadnoughts in the
South Atlantic. Maerker continued to take Gneisenau and Nürnberg closer to
their initial bombardment position four miles southwest of Cape Pembroke. He
did not bother to pass Busche’s report along to Admiral von Spee.
As Gneisenau and Nürnberg drew closer, the 12-inch guns of
Canopus, invisible to the German ships, were being elevated and trained on them
by guidance from the shore observation post. When Maerker’s two ships were near
Wolf’s Rock, six miles short of Cape Pembroke, they slowed their engines,
turned, and glided to the northeast, swinging around to present their port
broadsides to the wireless station. But Canopus, sitting on her mudbank, spoke
first. As soon as her gunnery officer, ashore in the observa-tion post, judged
the range to be down to 11,000 yards, he gave the signal. At 9:20 a.m., both
12-inch guns in the battleship’s forward turret fired. The reverberating roar
shook the town and the harbor and produced shrill cries from circling flocks of
seabirds. The shots fell short, but the Germans hoisted their battle flags,
turned, and made away to the southeast. As they did so, Canopus tried again
with another salvo at 12,000 yards. Again the shots were short, but this time
by less, and some observers believed that one of the shells ricocheted, sending
fragments into the base of a funnel on Gneisenau. With the Germans moving out
of range, Canopus had played her part. She had saved the wireless station, the
anchored ships, and the town from bombardment, and had provided Sturdee’s
squadron with time to leave the harbor. Captain Grant ordered a cease-fire.
Captain Maerker had just signaled Spee that Gneisenau was
about to open fire when he received a shock. Without warning, two gigantic
mushrooms of water, each 150 feet high, rose out of the sea a thousand yards to
port. This was heavy-caliber gunfire, although the guns themselves could not be
seen. Immediately, Maerker hoisted his battle ensigns and turned away, but not
before a second salvo spouted up 800 yards short of his ship. Before abandoning
his mission, Maerker considered a final attempt to harm the enemy. The first
British cruiser coming out of the harbor was recognized as a County-class ship
(it was Kent) and Maerker, believing that she was trying to escape, increased
speed to cut her off outside the entrance to Port William. Scarcely had he
settled on a closing course, however, when he received a signal from
Scharnhorst. This was not the unopposed landing Spee had planned. He had no
wish to engage British armored cruisers or old battleships with 12-inch guns
and he ordered Maerker to suspend operations and rejoin the flagship: “Do not
accept action. Concentrate on course east by south. Proceed at full speed.”
Spee retreated because, although he now knew that a 12-inch-gun ship or ships
were present, he was certain that they were old battleships that his squadron
could easily outrun. Maerker turned and made off at high speed toward the
flagship twelve miles away.
By 9:45 a.m., Glasgow had come out of the harbor and joined
Kent. The light cruiser’s captain, John Luce, carrying memories of Coronel, was
eager to attack the Germans by himself, but he was ordered to remain out of
range, trail the enemy, and keep Admiral Sturdee informed. At 9:50 a.m., the
rest of the squadron weighed anchor and proceeded down the harbor. First came
Carnarvon with Stoddart aboard, then Inflexible, Invincible, and Cornwall; only
Bristol, still reassembling her engines, and Macedonia were left behind. At
10:30 a.m., as the last of the line of British ships cleared the Cape Pembroke
lighthouse, five retreating plumes of smoke could be seen on the southwestern
horizon. Three hours had passed since the enemy first came in sight, and
Sturdee could be thankful for the fine weather. Had there been fog or mist, he
might have had less than half an hour’s notice of Spee’s arrival. Instead, the
sun was shining from a blue, cloudless sky, and a light northwesterly breeze
scarcely ruffled the sea: ideal conditions for a long-range action. Everyone on
both sides who survived the battle recalled the extraordinary weather: “The
visibility of the fresh, calm atmosphere surpassed everything in the experience
of sailors,” recalled Pochhammer of Gneisenau. “It was a perfect day,” wrote an
officer on Inflexible, “very rare in these latitudes and it was a beautiful
sight . . . when the British ships came around the point and all flags (we had
five ensigns flying to make sure not all should be shot away) with the sun on
them.” Aboard Invincible, a sublieutenant was “struck by the magnificent
weather conditions and, seizing my camera, climbed up the mast into the main
top. The air was biting cold as I . . . stood and watched the enemy . . . away
to the southwest, five triangles of smoke on the horizon. It was a brilliant
sunny day, visibility at its very maximum. And there they were, the squadron
that we thought would keep us hunting the seas for many weary months . . .
providentially delivered into our hands.”
The battle cruisers, their speed climbing to 25 knots, crept
inexorably to the head of the line, passing Carnarvon, overtaking Kent, then
alone with only Glasgow before them. From the flagship’s bridge, Sturdee,
watching the smoke from the five fleeing ships, knew that, barring some wholly
unforeseen circumstance, Spee was at his mercy. His force was superior;
Invincible and Inflexible, just out of dry dock, could steam at 25 knots;
Spee’s armored cruisers, after five months at sea, would be fortunate to manage
20. Thus, Sturdee could bring Spee’s armored cruisers within range of his 12-inch
guns in less than three hours and then would have six hours before sunset to
complete their destruction. The weather was beyond his control, but so far
there was nothing to indicate any change in the prevailing near perfect
conditions. Up Invincible’s halyard soared the signal “General Chase.”
Lieutenant Hirst of Glasgow afterward recalled: “No more
glorious moment in the war do I remember than when the flagship hoisted the
signal ‘General Chase.’ . . . Fifteen miles to the eastward lay the same ships
which we had fought at Coronel and which had sent brave Admiral Cradock and our
comrades to their death.” Glasgow, out in front and off to the side, had a
splendid view of the British battle cruisers as they charged ahead, their bows
cleaving the calm, blue sea with white bow waves curling away, their sterns
buried under the water boiling in their wakes, their 12-inch-gun turrets
training on the enemy with the barrels raised to maximum elevation. Above, on
the masts and yards, Royal Navy battle ensigns stood out stiffly, the white
color of the flags in stark contrast to the black smoke pouring from the
funnels. There was no hurry; the admiral had a clear, empty ocean in front of
him. Just as Spee at Coronel had been able to use his advantage of greater speed
and heavier guns to destroy Cradock, so Sturdee would be able to use his own
greater power and speed to destroy Spee. Each British battle cruiser carried
eight 12-inch guns, firing shells weighing 850 pounds. The German armored
cruisers carried eight 8.2-inch guns, each firing a shell of 275 pounds.
Sturdee could use his speed to set the range; then, keeping his distance, use
his big guns to pound Spee to pieces.
According to Commander Pochhammer of Gneisenau, it was not
until the chase was under way that the Germans were certain of the identity of
the two big ships that had emerged from the harbor. “Two vessels soon detached
themselves from the number of our pursuers; they seemed much faster and bigger
than the others as their smoke was thicker, wider, more massive,” Pochhammer
said. “All glasses were turned upon their hulls.” It was not long before the
spacing of the three funnels and the unmistakable tripod masts forced the
German seamen to confront “the possibility, even probability, that we were being
chased by English battle cruisers . . . this was a very bitter pill for us to
swallow. We choked a little . . . the throat contracted and stiffened, for it
meant a life and death struggle, or rather a fight ending in honorable death.”
Meanwhile, Sturdee calmly set about making his tactical
arrangements. He had difficulty seeing the enemy because of the volume of smoke
belching from the battle cruisers’ funnels, but Glasgow reported the Germans
twelve miles ahead, making 18 to 20 knots. Knowing that Spee could not escape,
Sturdee decided to postpone an immediate engagement. He ordered Inflexible to
haul out on Invincible’s starboard quarter, stationed Glasgow three miles ahead
of Invincible on the port bow, and instructed Kent to drop back to his port
beam. Soon, with the battle cruisers and Glasgow making 25 knots, he found that
he was leaving his own armored cruisers behind. At eleven o’clock, the admiral
signaled Carnarvon and Cornwall, five miles behind the battle cruisers, asking
what their maximum speed was. Carnarvon replied 20 knots (actually, it was 18)
and Cornwall 22. Not wanting his squadron scattered too widely, Sturdee reduced
the speed of the battle cruisers from 25 to 24 knots and then to 20 knots to
allow the squadron to come closer. These changes, in effect, nullified the
signal for General Chase. Never-theless, so confident of the day’s outcome was
Sturdee that, at 11:32 a.m., he signaled, “Ships’ companies have time for next
meal.” Men who had begun the day shifting sacks of coal and were covered with
grime now had an opportunity to wash and change clothes. “Picnic lunch in the
wardroom,” wrote one of Invincible’s officers. “Tongue, bread, butter, and
jam.” No one remained below, however, and soon the upper decks were lined with
officers and men, sandwiches in hand, watching the five German ships on the
horizon.
[Meanwhile, around 11:00 a.m., just as the British light
cruiser Bristol came out of the harbor, the signal station on Mount Pleasant
reported sighting three new ships—“transports or colliers”—about thirty miles
to the south. There had been unfounded rumors that German nationals were
gathering at South American ports to occupy and garrison the Falklands, and
Sturdee ordered Bristol and Macedonia to intercept and destroy these ships. Two
of the ships, which turned out to be the colliers Baden and Santa Isabel, were
overtaken; their crews were taken off and both vessels were sunk by gunfire.
Later, once the German squadron for which the coal had been intended had been
sunk, the British regretted having destroyed such valuable cargo. The third
German ship, the collier Seydlitz, escaped and was interned in Argentina.]
Aboard the German ships, the mood was somber. “Towards noon,
the two battle cruisers . . . were about 18,500 yards away. Four other cruisers
were observed,” said Pochhammer. “We took our meal at the usual time, eleven
forty-five, but it passed off more quietly than usual, everybody being absorbed
in his own thoughts.” As the meal finished, the thunder of heavy guns sounded
across the water. “Drums and bugles summoned us to our battle stations. A brief
handshake here and there, a farewell between particularly close friends, and
the mess room emptied.” Soon after noon, Sturdee became impatient. It was
evident that Stoddart’s flagship, Carnarvon, still six miles astern and unable
to force more than 18 knots out of her engines, could not catch up. As Cornwall
could manage 22, she was ordered to leave Carnarvon and come on ahead. Even
this seemed too slow and Sturdee decided to begin his attack with the two
battle cruisers. At 12:20 p.m., Captain Richard Phillimore came aft on
Inflexible and told his men that the admiral had decided “to get along with the
work.” The crew cheered and the battle cruisers again moved up to 25 knots.
Admiral von Spee, less than ten miles ahead, was heading
southeast at 20 knots. Gneisenau and Nürnberg were 2,000 yards ahead of
Scharnhorst, Dresden was on the flagship’s port beam, and Leipzig lagged
behind. Gradually, this speed increased to 21 knots, except for Leipzig, which
continued to fall behind. By 12:47 p.m., Sturdee had closed the range to
Leipzig to 17,500 yards, and he hoisted the signal “Engage the enemy.”
At 12:55 p.m., there was flash, thunder, and smoke. The
first shot was claimed by Captain Phillimore of Inflexible (known in the
service as Fidgety Phill), who had opened fire at Leipzig with his A turret, a
two-gun salvo at the range of 16,500 yards. This was 4,000 yards farther than
any British dreadnought had ever fired at a live target, and from his post high
in Inflexible’s foretop, her gunnery officer, Lieutenant Commander Rudolf
Verner, saw the shells fall 3,000 yards astern of the German squadron. Again
Inflexible fired and Verner experienced “the roar from the forward turret guns
and heavy masses of dark, chocolate-colored cordite smoke tumbling over the
bow; a long wait and tall white ‘stalagmites’ growing out of the sea behind the
distant enemy.” Soon after, Invincible opened fire with a two-gun salvo from
her A turret, and high fountains of water rose from the sea a thousand yards
short of the target. Within fifteen minutes, however, when the range was down
to 13,000 yards, the tall splashes began straddling Leipzig. One salvo raised
towering columns of water so close to the small ship that both sides lost sight
of her and thought she had been hit.
Leipzig’s plight forced Spee to make a decision. Looking
back, he could see the high bow waves of the battle cruisers, the clouds of
black smoke pouring from their funnels, the jets of orange flame shooting out
through smoke, and, after an agonizing wait, the towers of water rising
soundlessly alongside the hapless light cruiser. The admiral made his choice.
At 1:20 p.m., Invincible observed the German squadron splitting up: the three
light cruisers were turning to starboard, to the southwest, while Scharnhorst
and Gneisenau were turning to port, east-northeast, directly into the path of
the onrushing battle cruisers. Spee had realized that the British combination
of 12-inch guns and higher speed gave his squadron no chance in a prolonged
chase and that it was only a matter of minutes before the lagging Leipzig
received a crippling blow. In order to give his three light cruisers a chance
to escape, he chose to hurl his armored cruisers against the British battle
cruisers. “Gneisenau will accept action. Light cruisers part company and try to
escape,” the admiral signaled. The German light cruisers immediately turned to
starboard, their wakes curling away from Scharnhorst.
Sturdee had foreseen that the German squadron might do this.
In three typewritten pages of instructions issued at Abrolhos Rocks, he had
instructed that if, in an action, the East Asia Squadron divided itself, the
British battle cruisers would see to the destruction of the German armored
cruisers, while the British armored cruisers dealt with the German light
cruisers. Therefore, as soon as Luce in Glasgow saw the German light cruisers
turn away, and without any signal from Sturdee, he immediately left his
position ahead of the battle cruisers and made for the fleeing German ships.
Kent and Cornwall followed Luce in this new chase while Carnarvon, now ten
miles astern and too slow to have any chance of overtaking the enemy light
cruisers, continued in the wake of the battle cruisers.
As his light cruisers swung away to the southwest, Spee led
Scharnhorst and Gneisenau around hard to port, to the northeast toward
Invincible and Inflexible. The main action between the battle cruisers and the
armored cruisers now began with the two admirals jockeying for position. Spee’s
hope was to get as close to the enemy as he could with his shorter-range guns,
just as Cradock had tried to do with Good Hope and Monmouth at Coronel. Sturdee
understood this maneuver and, four minutes after Spee had turned toward him, he
deliberately turned 90 degrees to port, parallel with the enemy. Sturdee was
resolved to fight at his own range, beyond the reach of the German 8.2-inch
guns (13,500 yards), but within range of his own 12-inch (16,400 yards). He
meant to use against Spee the same tactics that Spee had used against Cradock.
The two squadrons now were running parallel toward the
northeast, with Invincible training on Scharnhorst, and Inflexible on
Gneisenau. At 1:30 p.m., the German cruisers, their guns elevated to achieve
maximum range, opened fire. Their first salvos were short; then, with the range
diminishing to 12,000 yards, the third salvo straddled Invincible and five
columns of water shot up around her. Soon, all four ships were firing
broadsides, which included their rear turrets. “The German firing was
magnificent to watch,” said an officer on Invincible, “perfect ripple salvos
all along their sides. A brown-colored puff with a center of flame marking each
gun as it fired. . . . They straddled us time after time.” Scharnhorst,
especially, lived up to her reputation as a crack gunnery ship, and at 1:44
p.m., she hit Invincible. The shell burst against the battle cruiser’s side
armor, causing a heavy concussion but failing to penetrate.
