In June 1919 a force of two CMBs attacked Kronstadt
and sank the cruiser Oleg. Lt. Augustus Agar of CMB4 won his Victoria Cross in
this operation. In August, a larger combined operation with aircraft managed to
damage one battleship and sink a depot ship. There were casualties as the
mission came under heavy fire. Lt. Agar won a DSO to accompany his VC.
This is (the) inevitable result of the failure of the
Allies to enforce their wishes on the Germans since the occurrences at Libau on
16th April. It is hard to understand how any collection of Statesmen and
Soldiers in high office could, in face of the urgent recommendations and
reports of those on the spot—all of them consistent and constantly
reiterated—disregard and take no effective action in a matter which will lead
either to a fresh war or to an ignominious betrayal of the two small States,
which were encouraged to rely on our effective support against German
domination.
THE QUOTATION comes from one of Cowan’s June reports.
Strictly, perhaps, he should not have vented his frustration in such words. The
Admiral was not, however, admonished by Their Lordships: Wemyss and Ferguson
had every sympathy with him since the “Statesmen and Soldiers” in Paris and
Versailles seemed unable to restrain a defeated Reich from dominating Latvia
and Lithuania, from supporting a Balt invasion of Estonia and from displaying
open hostility to British warships. This last intransigence went further than
mounting guns that threatened to make Libau an unsafe anchorage for the
Royalist: Duff was treated with insolent contempt by German troops when he
landed to visit Grant Watson who doubted whether his Mission’s position would
remain tenable for much longer. And in the middle of June Duff was obliged to
withdraw the destroyers Waterhen and Vancouver from Riga for fear that they
might be rushed and seized by German troops. One “enquired of my officer of the
watch as to what right Waterhen had to fly the British ensign when she was a
German ship; (others) made gestures with their hands by drawing them across
their throats and pointing to the ship,” wrote her Captain. The two ships were
consequently unable to continue their support for the efforts of the American
Mission to restrain the German Commandant from executing a large number of
Letts without proper trial.
Early in June Goltz moved his headquarters to Riga so that
Duff and Grant Watson were denied direct access to him when he showed no signs
of complying with the Allies’ latest terms. However, Tallents, very soon after
his arrival at Reval, recognised the importance of stopping a German advance
into Estonia. Hurrying south to Cecis, where fighting had broken out between
Laidoner’s troops and the Landeswehr, he was able, with the support of French
and American representatives, to negotiate a temporary armistice on 16th June.
But news that a division of 12,000 German troops was moving north from Riga
made him apprehensive of further hostilities.
Cowan, for his part, was especially concerned that a German
refusal to sign the Peace Treaty would be a signal for Goltz’s guns to open
fire on the Royalist. He therefore ordered Duff to withdraw to seaward where he
was reinforced by the cruisers Danae and Dauntless. This squadron returned to
Libau on 24th June to find that the Germans had withdrawn three miles from the
town, leaving it to be garrisoned by Prince Lieven’s Russian troops. Since this
suggested that Goltz might be about to comply with the Allies’ demands,
Tallents and Gough met Duff on the 26th, when Niedra unexpectedly arrived from
Riga and stated that his puppet government had resigned. The Germans, he said,
had withdrawn their support, and since he had been Prime Minister at the time
of the atrocities perpetrated against the Letts by both Germans and Balts, most
of his fellow-countrymen now looked on him as a traitor. Tallents, Gough and
Duff therefore agreed that as a first step towards re-establishing a Lettish
Government Ulmanis and his colleagues on board the Saratov should land. These
stout-hearted Ministers, who had so patiently accepted their water-borne refuge
under British protection for two months, came ashore on the 27th and received a
great ovation from a large crowd, the proceedings including an official
reception, speeches from a hotel balcony and a concert in the evening—not to
mention pulling down the monument in Libau’s principal square to the Germans’
capture of the town in 1915.
Gough and Tallents then left to arrange for Ulmanis to
transfer his Government to Riga, which they were obliged to do by way of Reval
since the Germans still refused to allow any British representative to travel
direct to the Lett capital by rail or road, and since Duff had intelligence
that the entrance to the Dvina had been freshly mined against Pitka’s ships
which were now active in the Gulf of Riga. Thus, by the time the Heads of the
British Civil and Military Missions reached their destination, they were
confronted with a new problem. As Tallents feared, hostilities had been renewed
by Estonian troops and Colonel Zemitan’s Lettish force against the Landeswehr,
supported by a German division. The latter had been routed at Cesis on the 22nd,
allowing the Estonians to advance on Riga so that by 1st July, 1919, they were
within ten miles of the city. In these circumstances it must be counted one of
Tallents’s and Gough’s greatest achievements that they were able to impose a
comprehensive armistice on 3rd July. The Estonian advance, designed to prevent
further German-Balt aggression, was halted in the outskirts of Riga and their
troops obliged to withdraw. And to ensure that the Landeswehr devoted their
energies to expelling the Bolsheviks, whom Lettish troops were having
difficulties in holding at Latgale, the Landeswehr’s German commander was
removed. In his place Tallents appointed a young Irish Guardsman from the
British Mission, Lieutenant-Colonel the Hon. H. R. Alexander, described by Walter
Duranty as “the most charming and picturesque person I have ever met and one of
two soldiers I have known who derived a strong, positive and permanent
exhilaration from the worst of danger.” One may wonder how often Field-Marshal
Lord Alexander of Tunis, who was thus the only British Army officer to fight in
the field in the Baltic States, recalled his command of this German-Balt unit
when he held the position of a Supreme Commander in the Second World War.
Tallents also removed the German Commandant from his position in Riga and
appointed himself temporary Civil Governor until Ulmanis could arrive and
assume control. Lastly, but most important of all, Gough, on the evidence of
their recent successes, recommended that the task of clearing the Bolsheviks
from the country should be left to Estonian troops operating on a common front
with the Lettish Army and the Landeswehr, in accordance with the agreement
which Pats and Ulmanis had reached in February. This allowed Tallents to
require Goltz to comply with the Supreme War Council’s demand that all his
troops should evacuate Latvia as soon as possible: so far as Riga was concerned
this was to be effected by 5th July.
Goltz fulfilled this last requirement by pulling back to
Mitau. The German garrison also withdrew from Windau. Two days later Ulmanis’s
Government, now composed of both Letts and Balts in accordance with the wishes
of the Allies, who had stressed that it must be broadly based if it was to
retain the people’s support, arrived in the Dvina on board the Saratov. But few
supposed that Goltz had abandoned his ambitions, or that the Weimar Government
could control him. To quote Duff:
I do not think the (German) withdrawal (from the three
ports) should be looked upon as more than a strategic move. There are too many
thousands of Prussians who have openly said that they intend to have these
provinces. It would appear probable that, if they retire, they hope to arrange
that disturbances will occur, and the state of the countries become such that
they will have an excuse for returning—this time not on the invitation of the
Allies but on account of the danger of Bolshevism in states on their borders.
This time they would remain.
The Supreme Council did nothing to resolve the issue when it
rejected an American proposal that the United States should assume a mandate
over Latvia and Lithuania, Britain doing likewise for Estonia; and then turned
down a British proposal that the Allies should make a sum of £10 million
available to the three States, largely because France would not allow this to
be charged against the reparations they intended to squeeze out of Germany. The
Council confined itself to instructing Foch to make a fresh demand on Berlin to
withdraw their forces. Goltz denied to Gough that he had received any such
instructions from his Government for nearly three weeks, and then said that it
would take him two and a half months to evacuate his army, that he would not do
it by sea, and that he expected trouble because many were Germans who had
volunteered for service in Latvia in return for a promise of land on which they
might settle.
Duff also objected to the German troops being evacuated by
sea through Libau.
It is feared that the return of the Germans will cause a
grave setback. The hatred of the people for the Germans is such that it will be
very difficult to prevent occurrences leading to fighting. At the same time the
Prussian Army in this country is so accustomed to doing exactly what it pleases
that it is anticipated considerable looting will take place (which) there is no
force to prevent. I have been doing all that I can to arrange that the evil is
minimised. The plan suggested by the War Office, which sounded so simple, is
quite impracticable.
Though Gough helped by appointing one of his staff as Military
Governor of Libau, Duff was constrained to comment:
The following, I think, is often not realised. The Allies
out here may make arrangements which appear to them necessary, but which they
have no power to enforce; and if met, as has generally been the case, by a flat
refusal to carry out these arrangements, they can only refer the matter to
Paris. By the time it has been possible to obtain any decision from there the
German has done what he intended—thanks to having the force to do it; and by
the time a decision has been given and action taken from Paris, it has been too
late.
A further potential source of trouble was Lieven’s Russian
force. Notwithstanding the Prince’s willingness to co-operate with the Allies,
his troops were not popular with the Letts. So long as their number remained
limited all might be well, but there was news of 12,000 more Russian
ex-prisoners of war coming back from Germany who could be expected to demand
that Latvia should remain a Russian province, for whom, moreover, the Letts had
no food. So Gough arranged with Cowan for the Princess Margaret to transfer the
Prince’s troops to Reval and join the North-West Army; but Lieven was persuaded
by Goltz that this would not be in the interests of a reunited Russia and
refused to allow his men to embark. This trial of strength between German and
Allied influence was, however, handled with such tact and firmness by Duff that
eventually he got most of the Russians away.
The Commodore’s destroyers, stationed at Riga and Windau,
had their own problems. On 3rd July, for example, the Vancouver reported the
arrival of the S.S. Hanover escorted by two German torpedoboats. Since the
Peace Treaty allowed no German warships, other than minesweepers, to be at sea,
Duff immediately dispatched the Danae to ensure that these craft returned to
their own country. Nonetheless, life for officers and men of the British ships
was easier now than it had been for some time past. At Libau on 19th July,
1919,
the date of the official peace celebrations, the ships
were dressed over all, and in the afternoon a very successful sports meeting
was held on shore. A band was hired, and the local officials with their
families, the Lettish officers, and the French and American officers and men
were invited. A very large number of men were landed from our own ships. Tea
was provided for about 600. The afternoon appeared to be a great success. In
the evening a short display of fireworks was given the ships.
Three days before, however, Duff had written:
All reports tend to show that the German Command has
halted its preparations for evacuating (Latvia). Troops are returning again
from Prussia to Mitau. Colonel Dawley came to see me yesterday (and said) he
thought it quite possible that Goltz considered the political situation so
unstable that it was worth waiting to see if it might be possible to avoid
complying with the order to evacuate the Baltic Provinces.
Goltz, having failed to use Lieven for his purposes, had
enlisted the help of one Paul Bermondt. This vain adventurer of dubious Russian
origin and uncertain loyalties, who had started his military career in a
regimental band and now styled himself Colonel Prince Avalov, was forming a new
division out of the expected Russian ex-prisoners of war and German volunteers,
which was being supplied by Goltz with all that it needed. “I am to request,”
wrote the Secretary of the Admiralty to the Foreign Office on receipt of this
news, “that the attention of the Supreme Council may be drawn to the urgency of
the recall of General von der Goltz.” Duff’s only weapon was a rigid control of
all German shipping visiting Libau, Windau and Riga: no vessels were allowed to
arrive at or leave these ports except to remove German troops and their
equipment. By continuing to refuse to allow any supplies to be landed, the
Commodore had the small satisfaction of knowing that he was causing Goltz some
inconvenience.
On 26th July, Duff, having transferred his broad pendant to
the Caledon which had come to strengthen his force, proceeded to Riga. It was
the first time a cruiser had been up the Dvina since Sinclair’s withdrawal at
the beginning of the year.
Judging by the appearance of the outside of the buildings,
(wrote Duff) the town has suffered very little from the various occupations it
has been subjected to, but, like Libau, it is a depressing sight inasmuch as it
has the appearance of a dead city. Practically all the factories are closed
(and) most of the houses stripped of their furniture. There are no signs of the
prosperous business population which was so marked a feature of the place. The
people seen in the streets are mostly of the poorer classes. Although food is
reported to be very scarce and prices are enormously high, their appearance did
not give the impression that they were suffering anything approaching
starvation; though, when the work of the American Food Mission finishes on 15th
August, the food question may become very difficult. After the terribly
unsettled times the town has been through, the state of nerves of most of the
inhabitants is such that the wildest rumours are given credence; this is
utilised by German agents (to) hinder the formation of a stable government. The
moral effect of seeing our officers and men walking calmly about the town has
been of great service in assisting the population to regain some control over
its nerves. The destroyer stationed there has been giving regular afternoon
leave, and Caledon did the same, and the behaviour of our men has been
excellent.
Tallents and Gough could not derive as much satisfaction
from their discussions with Goltz at Mitau. On 1st August Foch again ordered
Berlin to withdraw their turbulent General, and to complete evacuating their
troops from Latvia by the 30th under Gough’s supervision. But, though those
orders were passed to Goltz, Berlin instructed him that he was not to
co-operate with the British Military Mission. As a result, in Cowan’s words,
“the German evacuation of the Baltic Provinces continues to be delayed by every
shift and evasion which Goltz can engineer; and until this officer is summarily
ejected from the Baltic Provinces it is not to be hoped that German intrigue,
interference and domination will cease.” Seven weeks after the armistice which
the two British Heads of Mission had so successfully arranged, Goltz was still
in control of the greater part of Latvia except for Riga, Libau and Windau, so
that Ulmanis’s Government had been unable to make much progress towards the
reconstruction of their country. And Bermondt’s division was daily gaining in
strength—a division which Goltz was deliberately organising against the day
when evacuation of his German troops could be delayed no longer.
Since this would not be before October, we may conveniently
leave events in Latvia at this point—the first weeks of August 1919—and return
to the Gulf of Finland by way of Lithuania. Though Foch had been unable to
persuade the Poles to withdraw their troops from their illegal occupation of
Vilna, he had fixed a demarcation line, designed to prevent them encroaching
farther on Lithuanian territory, which had avoided any serious clash of arms.
Elsewhere, the German Tenth Army retained control but had allowed the
Lithuanian forces to launch an offensive against the Bolsheviks with some
success. But Voldmaris’s Government could make no real progress towards
establishing their country’s freedom so long as Goltz’s machinations in Latvia
continued.
#
KRONSTADT: The fortifications are extensive and were begun
by Peter the Great in 1703. Prince Menshikov constructed the works under the
direction of Peter and one of the forts still bears his name. Succeeding
Governments have strengthened the fortifications and secured the approaches
from seaward by sinking ships and erecting batteries, especially after the
visit of (Napier’s) Baltic Squadron in 1854. It has long been the chief station
in the Baltic for the Russian Fleet. The dry docks will admit the largest
vessels of war, and a splendid steam factory almost rivals Keyham (Devon-port)
in its mechanical appliances.
So wrote the author of Murray’s Handbook for Travellers in
Russia, published as long ago as 1868. As much might be said of Kronstadt in
1919 except that the harbour had been made more impregnable by replacing the
sunken ships with massive breakwaters comparable with those at Gibraltar. But
the Handbook also refers to it as a commercial port visited by 1300 vessels
annually, two-thirds of them British, with the consequence that there was a
“British Hotel,” a British chapel and a British Seaman’s Hospital and “even the
drojky drivers are able to converse in ‘pigeon [sic]-English’”; and all this
had been outdated. A deep water channel had been dredged and a canal constructed
which allowed large vessels to proceed up to St. Petersburg, saving the
inconvenience of transferring cargoes to lighters, and allowing shipyards to be
built in the capital. By the First World War Kronstadt was to the Russian Navy
what Portsmouth was to the British. On the other hand, Kotlin Island, five
miles long and at most a mile wide, on whose south-eastern end Kronstadt
stands, was more than this. Conveniently sited fifteen miles to seaward of the
Neva delta, its eight forts had been supplemented by a chain of nine, similar
to those at Spithead, across the six-mile wide channel separating the island
from the mainland to the north, and a further six across the four-mile wide
channel to the south, the water in both being no more than two fathoms deep.
And a mine barrage to seaward of Tolboukin Lighthouse, designed to keep enemy
ships outside gun range, made it unlikely that any of those batteries would be
destroyed by naval bombardment. Kotlin was thus the core of a defensive system
that rendered Petrograd virtually impregnable from the sea—just as Krasnaya
Gorka (and Fort Ino before it fell to the Finns) protected it against land and
sea attack—whilst Kronstadt Harbour provided a secure base for the Russian
Baltic Fleet. Indeed, until the Treaty of Brest-Litovsk, the German Navy never
approached so close to it as Cowan’s ships after their arrival at Biorko, and
its defences were never seriously challenged until Donald’s aircraft carried
out their first raid at the end of July. Even then, since their bombs could do
little damage, Zelenoy’s ships might have remained safe under the cover of
Kronstadt’s guns and protected by its breakwaters, if Cowan had not realised,
largely as a result of the sinking of the Oleg, that C.M.B.s (which had been
devised in the latter half of the First World War for comparable attacks
against the German coast) were a weapon whose high speed and shallow draught
might be used to breach such formidable defences.
The Admiral’s aim was the destruction of the Bolshevik
ships, notably the battleships Petropavlovsk and Andrei Pervozvanni, so that
they no longer presented a serious challenge to his own force, and so that they
could not menace the flank of the Estonian and Russian North-West Armies when
their advance on Petrograd carried them to the east of the minefields. To this
end Cowan planned Operation “RK,” so named after his friend Keyes who had given
the dragon’s tail such a “damn’ good twist” at Zeebrugge. Having no staff apart
from his Flag Captain, Secretary and Flag Lieutenant, to do the manifold work
which operating and administering his now sizeable force involved, he enlisted
the help of his flagship’s able Executive Officer, Commander Clark, assisted by
Agar who provided invaluable knowledge and personal experience, and by Dobson
and Donald. These two made a number of reconnaissance flights over Kronstadt,
whilst air photographs also showed where the Bolshevik ships were berthed. The
targets selected, in addition to the two battleships, were the depot ship
Pamyat Azova, to reduce the effectiveness of the enemy submarines, the cruiser
Rurik because she was reported to be carrying 300 mines whose detonation would
destroy much of the dockyard, the cruiser Avroras or Diana, and the caisson of
the Nikolayevsky dock. A secondary target would be the destroyer on patrol
outside the harbour. Surprise being vital, a night air-raid would divert the
attention of the defences. Under its cover six C.M.B.s would penetrate the
harbour, using guncotton charges to cut a passage through the boom across the
fifty-yard wide breakwater entrance, and fire their torpedoes. And against the
possibility that the attack might provoke a sortie by the enemy, Cowan’s
cruisers and destroyers would lie in wait to seaward of the mine barrage.
Everything was ready by the middle of August 1919, a
fortnight after the C.M.B.s’ arrival from England, since Cowan was convinced
that he could only ensure surprise by carrying out the operation with the
minimum of delay. The boats’ hulls had been overhauled after their 2000-mile
tow, their 1500 h.p. petrol engines had been tuned and their torpedoes shipped
in their stern firing troughs with the ready help of the crew of the
Vindictive. Rehearsals, too, had been staged in Biorko Sound, but, as always
seems to happen on such occasions, the summer weather broke: a strong westerly
wind and heavy rain prevented an attack on the 15th and 16th. However, Sunday,
the 17th, dawned fine and clear, when Cowan, having ordered the operation to be
executed that night, visited the Vindictive and spoke to all who were to take
part.
At 2200 Dobson’s flotilla left Biorko: their gallant
captains, all in their twenties, each of whom took the wheel of his own craft,
must be named: No. 24, Lieutenant L. E. S. Napier; No. 31, Lieutenant R. Macbean
(with Dobson on board); No. 62, Lieutenant-Commander J. T. Brade, R.N.R.; No.
72, Sub-Lieutenant E. R. Bodley, R.N.R.; No. 79, Lieutenant W. H. Bremner; No.
86, Sub-Lieutenant F. Howard, R.N.R.; No. 88, Lieutenant A. Dayrell-Reed. Each
boat carried another officer, whose main task was to fire its torpedo (es), and
a chief motor mechanic to nurse its twin engines. All seven proceeded to a
rendezvous off Inonini Point where they were joined at midnight by Agar in his
own boat. He was to lead the flotilla through the chain of forts and up to the
entrance to the harbour, though each captain also had the help of a Finnish
smuggler as pilot: by virtue of their “trade” with Petrograd, they knew the
way. The night was cloudy with a calm sea, a light wind and no more than a new
moon when the eight boats, proceeding at fairly high speed, altered course for
Kronstadt.
Shortly after midnight Cowan in the Delhi brought the Danae
and Cleopatra out of Biorko. The three cruisers were preceded by the Second
Destroyer Flotilla, led by H.M.S. Spenser, Captain Colin Maclean, which had
just arrived from England to relieve the Wallace and Campbell’s First Flotilla.
These ships were destined to play an unspectacular part: they had no more than
a distant grandstand view of the attack from the west of the mine barrage. By
1000 on the 18th they were back in Biorko.
The C.M.B.s had difficulty in keeping in touch with each
other as they ran in towards the North Channel. “Boats astern were dropping
behind and only three could be seen,” wrote Lieutenant Gordon Steele,
second-in-command of No. 88. “After about half an hour’s run, land could be
seen to starboard which we knew was (Kotlin) Island. The first large fortress
loomed up, (then) the chain of small forts which guard Petrograd Bay. They rise
right out of the sea and looked unpleasantly close together. We seemed to be in
sight of (them) for an interminably long time. I began to feel quite drowsy and
had to keep awake by constantly reminding myself that any instant those black
objects might change into flashes of gunfire. Indeed, from the noise our
engines were making and (the) large sheets of flame coming from the exhaust
pipes of the boats ahead, we ought to have been spotted at any minute.” The
flotilla intended to pass between Forts Nos. 8 and 11 but, according to Agar,
“Dobson and the two boats following him (Bremner’s and Dayrell-Reed’s) lost
sight of us. His smuggler-pilot, finding himself too close to the (eastern) end
of the Kotlin shore, turned parallel to the chain of forts and slipped in
between Nos. 7 and 10, a passage not previously used, and on which they would
certainly have stuck had it not been for the extra water under their propellers
due to the temporary rise of the water level. Luck was so far with us.” To
quote Steele again: “The seconds seemed like hours; it appeared outside all
possibility that they would not see us. I stood by the Lewis gun pointing it at
the fort as we passed—not that it would be of much use, but it gave one
confidence.” Two of the forts did open fire on some of the flotilla but failed
to pass the alarm to Kronstadt, so that by 0100 all the boats were off the
eastern extremity of the island with the lights of Petrograd visible in the
distance. There, whilst Kronstadt slept on, they formed up in two groups for
the attack. Dobson was to take Nos. 79, 31 and 88 into the enemy harbour first.
They were to be followed by Nos. 86, 72 and 62. Napier’s No. 24 had to deal
with the destroyer Gavriil which was anchored outside the entrance.
Meanwhile, back at Koivisto, on the landing strip which the
men of Cowan’s squadron had slashed out of Finnish forest, mechanics had swung
the propellers of Dobson’s machines; and a dozen “stick and string” biplanes
had taken off into the night. Fifteen minutes later, flying at little more than
sixty knots, they were over Kronstadt; and shortly before 0130 they came in
over the harbour from many directions. The defences were alert: searchlights
swept the sky: the guns of the warships and shore batteries put up a firework display
of shrapnel and tracers. The planes, nonetheless, dropped their bombs, two
apiece, none weighing more than 112 lb., and sometimes had the satisfaction of
seeing a yellow detonation followed by a flickering red flame. This done, they
continued to hold the enemy’s attention by diving again and again down the
searchlight beams. Judged as an air raid, the attack was to small effect: the
R.A.F. had had little experience of bombing by night. But it served its purpose
well: “we knew,” wrote Steele, “that our faithful supporters, the Air Force,
were taking the enemy’s attention off us and getting a warm reception
themselves in consequence.” They were doing more than that; they compelled the
greater part of the garrison, the men who were supposed to man the lookout
posts and the guns of the forts to repel an attack from the sea, to remain
under cover whilst the C.M.B.s made their final approach.
The first group was led by Bremner whose boat carried the
explosives and other gear needed to deal with the boom: Macbean, with Dobson
aboard, followed: then came Dayrell-Reed. Their boats approached in line ahead,
with their engines throttled back to cut noise and eliminate the white streak
of bow waves. “The entrance to the middle harbour could now be seen to starboard,
and ahead of us the guard-ship,” wrote Steele. “She looked quite peaceful at
anchor and it was hard to imagine her as an enemy ship guarding the entrance to
an enemy harbour. Our three C.M.B.s glided past her and arrived at the entrance
without a shot being fired at us. We stopped engines to give the two boats
ahead of us time to get in.” Bremner found no boom to bar his way—a deficiency
to which some Soviet authorities ascribe the British success. Opening his
throttle he roared into the main harbour, which was less than half a mile
square, and headed for the Pamyat Azova, berthed off the jetty extending into
the centre of the basin. Swinging round to starboard he discharged his torpedo
which struck the depot ship. She listed rapidly and as quickly sank. Dobson,
following close behind Bremner, swung to port towards the dreadnought
Petropavlovsk. “His attack,” records Agar, “was a more difficult manœuvre; he
had to stop one engine, turn the boat, and gather speed quickly again before
firing. This requires great judgment and coolness, but he did it; his torpedoes
found their mark.”
The roar of these explosions brought the garrison from their
shelters. “As Dayrell-Reed’s boat entered the harbour,” noted Steele, “fire was
opened on us, first from the direction of the dry dock and afterwards from both
sides. We (headed) for the corner where our objective, the battleships, were
berthed.
Almost simultaneously we received bursts of fire from the
batteries and splashes appeared on both sides. Instinctively I ducked as the
bullets whistled past. I turned round and was just about to remark to
Dayrell-Reed, ‘Where are you heading?’ as we were making straight for a
hospital ship, when I noticed that his head was resting on the wooden conning
tower top in front of him ”: No. 88’s captain had been shot through the head.
Despite Reed’s considerable weight, Steele managed to lower him into the
cockpit: “at the same time I put the wheel hard over and righted the boat on
her proper course. We were now quite close to the Andrei Pervozvanni.
Throttling back as far as possible, I fired both torpedoes at her, after which
I stopped one engine to help the boat turn quickly. As I did this we saw two
columns of water rise up from the side of the (Petropavlovsk) and heard two
crashes. I knew they must be Dobson’s torpedoes which had found their target.
(Then) there was another terrific explosion nearby. We received a great shock
and a douche of water. Looking over my shoulder, I realised the cause of it was
one of our torpedoes exploding on the side of the (other) battleship. We were
so close to her that a shower of picric powder from the warhead of our torpedo
was thrown over the stern of the boat, staining us a yellow colour which we had
some difficulty in removing afterwards. (Missing) a lighter by a few feet (we)
followed Dobson out of the basin. I had just time to take another look back and
see the result of our second torpedo. A high column of flame from the (Andrei
Pervozvanni) lit up the whole basin. We passed the guardship at anchor again.
Morley (No. 88’s mechanic) gave her a burst of machine-gun fire as a parting
present and afterwards went to see what he could do for Reed.”
The Gavriil was still there because Napier had the
mortification of missing her with No. 24’s torpedo: it passed under the
destroyer’s bottom. Moreover, Sevastyanov’s crew retaliated so promptly that a
shell split No. 24 in half and sank her. Brade was equally unfortunate: as his
boat was coming in she collided with Bremner’s as it was leaving the harbour,
the latter being nearly cut in two. Brade, who had realised that he was not
required to carry out his main task—attacking the battleships if Dobson or
Dayrell-Reed failed—then displayed great presence of mind. By going full speed
ahead he kept his boat and Bremner’s locked together, whilst the latter first
fired the fuse of the guncotton charges he carried to deal with the boom,
before clambering to safety with his crew. The charges exploded and destroyed
Bremner’s boat after Brade had drawn clear, when he turned to fire his
torpedoes at the Gavriil; but like Napier’s, and for the same reason, both
missed. Brade’s boat was then likewise sunk by Sevastyanov’s gunfire.
Howard and Bodley, in Nos. 86 and 72, who had hoped to deal
with the Rurik and the caisson of the Nikolayevsky dock, suffered ill-luck.
Howard’s engines broke down as he was about to begin his run in at the head of
the second group, so that he suffered the frustration of being unable to take
part in the attack. And as Bodley was approaching the entrance a shell splinter
damaged the firing gear of his torpedo. With his boat deprived of its sting he
had to withdraw; but he found Howard and, though under fire from Kronstadt’s
forts, towed his boat safely away, a fine piece of courageous seamanship. Agar,
who had fired his torpedo into the harbour from just outside the entrance, was
the last to leave the scene as dawn was breaking, when a hail of enemy shell
pursued his boat and those of Dobson, Bodley and Howard as they returned to
Biorko.
As soon as Donald’s pilots, their unselfish task of acting
as decoys so well done, had landed at Koivisto and refuelled their planes, they
took off again and returned to reconnoitre the scene of the action. They
rejoiced to find that the Petropavlovsk, the Andrei Pervozvanni and the Pamyat
Azova had all been sunk, though there was insufficient water to submerge their
hulls, and the floating dock had been damaged by a bomb. Subsequent
intelligence revealed that the Petropavlovsk had been struck by two torpedoes
so that it was a long time before she could be salvaged; and that, whilst the
Andrei Pervozvanni had only been struck by one, so that she was quickly raised
and moved into dry dock, she would require extensive repairs.
