The Complete Scrimgeour: From Dartmouth to Jutland 1913–16

By Alexander Scrimgeour, Richard Hallam and Mark Beynon

'Rape, Ravage and Rant are the German watchwords in this war. Right, Revenge & Retrenchment shall be ours.' Alexander Scrimgeour, 17th September 1914.


Most published war diaries have been written by soldiers but Alexander Scrimgeour was a naval officer who was killed at the Battle of Jutland in 1916 at the age of 19. But he had already left a legacy – his diaries in which he recounted every event with sincerity, risking court martial to record several notorious incidents.


Among his revelations, Scrimgeour discloses the real reason behind the sinking of the HMS Hawke, the events preceding the capture of the infamous Baron Von, and what he learned from dining with his Naval Commanders as the ship's interpreter. He also chronicles his numerous love affairs and his anguish at the loss of close friends killed during the war.


Now publishing in paperback for the first time, and updated with new material on his life before the First World War, this new edition includes much previously unseen material, chronicling Scrimgeour's life prior to joining the navy.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bloomsbury Publishing
• Release date: Apr 21, 2016
• ISBN: 9781844863129

Alexander Scrimgeour

Alexander Scrimgeour's life was tragically cut short when he perished, aged just nineteen, on board HMS Invincible at the Battle of Jutland in 1916 - the greatest naval engagement of the First World War. Fortunately, his diaries survived, and their six year span gives an insight into the character of an extraordinary young man.

Book preview

For the 1026 men who lost their lives on board HMS Invincible, and for Caroline Hallam.

CONTENTS

List of charts and illustrations

Preface by Richard Hallam

Acknowledgements

Introduction by Mark Beynon

‘Rule Britannia’: The Royal Navy in 1914 by Professor Andrew Lambert

List of abbreviations

Diary

1913

1914

1915

1916

Appendices

Appendix I: The Times Editorials on the Blockade, 1915

Appendix II: Extracts from Chapter VI Boatwork in Manual Of Seamanship Vol. I, 1905 (revised and reprinted 1915)

Appendix III: Reports of Senior Officers of the Third Battle Cruiser Squadron, Battle of Jutland Official Despatches, 1916

Appendix IV: Account from the First Gunnery Officer of the Derfflinger

Index

Plate Section

LIST OF CHARTS AND ILLUSTRATIONS

Rough plan of the Disposition of Grand Fleet before commencing sweep of the North Sea (15 August 1914)

Lerwick Harbour

Scapa Flow

Cromarty Firth Harbour

Armament on HMS Crescent

The Pentland Firth

German North Sea coast showing Kiel Canal

The arrangement of turbines and steam pipes in engine room, HMS Alsatian

The north-west coast of Scotland, including the Hebrides

Faroe Islands

Liverpool

The disposition of patrols of the 10th Cruiser Squadron on 1 March 1915

The Lochs Roag

Title page of the Journal for the Use of Midshipmen

Page 1 of the Journal for the Use of Midshipmen

Busta Voe

Page from the 1915 Diary

PREFACE

I have known of, and lived with, Alexander Scrimgeour’s diaries since I was a child. As a young boy I grew up in Thorncombe House, near Godalming, Surrey, with my mother, grandmother and step-grandfather, Toby Scrimgeour. Toby, whom I regarded as my surrogate father and patriarch, would often regale me with fascinating accounts from his wealth of family history, including the tale of Alexander Scrimgeour, his brave uncle who had lost his life at sea during the First World War.

When he told me that he had been handed down Alexander’s war diaries and letters by his father (Alexander’s younger brother, Jim) and that they were safely concealed in his grand chest of drawers, I couldn’t wait to cast my eager young eyes over them. I have many fond memories of Thorncombe, which to an inquisitive child was a real den of antiquity, rich in a secretive past, but Alexander’s diaries and his portrait hanging on the wall are what I remember most vividly.

Toby would often reiterate his desire to see the diaries published, and left the responsibility to my mother. When he passed away, my mother and I felt it would be a fitting tribute to both Toby and Alexander to publish the diaries he cherished, so we set about fulfilling his wish.

It was during the editing process that my mother was diagnosed with cancer, and after a brave battle, she sadly succumbed to her illness. Having been handed the baton, so to speak, I feel proud and privileged to have been part of bringing this humbling collection to a wider audience. I sincerely hope it inspires you as much as it did me.

Richard Hallam

INTRODUCTION

Born on 5 March 1897, Alexander Scrimgeour grew up in the picturesque Kentish village of Wickhambreaux, five miles outside Canterbury. At the time of his birth, the name Scrimgeour was synonymous with London stockbroking – the family would later go on to achieve greater success under his younger brother, Jim. Alexander led a privileged upbringing as the eldest of four children, reaping the benefits of his father’s (Alexander Caron Scrimgeour’s) wealth and status, both educationally and socially. As well as Jim, Alexander had a much younger brother called Billy and a sister, Peggy.

To best understand his aspirations (or perhaps his father’s aspirations for him) as a boy born at the turn of the century, it is important to consider Edwardian society, which, although brief, was undeniably fascinating in its attitudes. Most historians agree that the Edwardian era covers the period from the turn of the twentieth century to the outbreak of the First World War. The ambitions of a young upper-middle-class gentleman would have been dictated by a stringent list of professions. Many young Edwardians would follow in their father’s footsteps, but Alexander joined the Royal Navy, a profession chosen for him by his father when he was still a child, and this would have been deemed suitable by his family and their peers at a time when Britain was at the height of her imperial power.

Edwardian Britain afforded the affluent every chance in life. While the rich seemed to get richer and richer, the poor descended further into poverty. The dissent arising from this fanned a turbulent political climate. Britain was slowly coming to terms with the idea of the suffrage movement and the role of working women in its society – this would, of course, become commonplace throughout the First World War in the munitions factories.

The theatre, which was enjoying a renaissance of its own, was suddenly inundated with strong and dominant female characters and an upturn in plays that shocked contemporary audiences with their frank portrayals of everyday life and sexuality. Similar female characters would make their mark on literature, too. At a time when an enormous number of novels and short stories were being written and consumed, many would reflect the issues of the day. The emergence of socialism, the age of the self-educated man, and a middle-class society that refused to support the flamboyant and gaudy trends of Edward VII and the upper classes, would also be represented by a new era of fiction, which evolved from its Victorian predecessor.

Seemingly inspired by the many great writers of his era, Alexander decided to keep a day-to-day diary, which displayed his own adroit ability with prose. The diaries that have survived start in 1910, and cover his formative years from cadet training right through to his active service in war, and his cherished time spent at home with family and friends. Indeed, it is important to emphasise that this collection is not just a war diary. Alexander was efficient in writing his accounts and recording events as they happened, displaying a self-discipline that has left us with a sharp insight into the era, untouched by the vagaries of memory and post-war analysis.

The Scrimgeour family owned two properties: the first was The Quaives in Wickhambreaux; and the second was a flat at Cumberland Terrace near Regent’s Park. Still considered to be one of the more desirable properties in London, the John Nash-designed Cumberland Terrace has seen many illustrious dignitaries reside there over the years, such as the composer Bernard Herrmann. Indeed, in the front of his 1913 diary, Alexander lists the properties to which his diary should be sent if lost. As well as his home addresses, Alexander also lists Hatton Court, Threadneedle Street, London, and Dudhope Castle in Dundee. It is fair to assume that Hatton Court was his father’s place of work as it is situated right in the heart of the London banking district, and Dudhope Castle was, and still is, the seat of Clan Scrimgeour in Scotland. Before moving to The Quaives, the Scrimgeours lived at Batemans in East Sussex, eventually selling the property to Rudyard Kipling in 1902 when Alexander was five.

Alexander also enjoyed the benefits of a first-class education, initially at Aldro School in Eastbourne, East Sussex. Having been groomed for a career in the armed forces, in 1910, at the age of thirteen, he joined the Royal Navy as a cadet, and forged the friendships that would last until his death. Together with his contemporaries, Thomas Cobb, Leopold Johnstone, Alexander Richardson, Richard Henderson, Desmond Tottenham, William Hutchinson (WSH was Alexander’s ‘best friend’) and ‘Fober’ Robinson, Alexander went through four years of rigorous tuition, two at Osborne Naval College, Isle of Wight, and two at Dartmouth Royal Naval College, before being approved to train on board HMS Cornwall in the first half of 1914. (The Cornwall, a 9,800-ton Monmouth-class armoured cruiser, would later go on to sink the German light cruiser Leipzig in the Battle of the Falklands and support the Dardanelles campaign.)

The group of cadets flourished and excelled in the demanding training conditions on board the Cornwall, and they were fortunate to find themselves frequently harboured in glamorous locations with ample free time on their hands. Unsurprisingly, they would make the most of their leave, often resulting in tales of high jinks. In the first half of 1914 alone, the Cornwall was permanently away from Britain, including a three-month stay in the Mediterranean during which she visited Monte Carlo, Malta, Gibraltar, Nice, Cannes, Florence and Algiers. Sport provided another source of distraction for the cadets looking to wile away their recreation. It occupied much of Alexander’s spare time, and he regularly partook in rugby and cricket matches, both at college and while on leave abroad. Indeed, spectator sport enjoyed a boom throughout the Edwardian era, and many young men wished to emulate the sportsmen they would have seen at Lord’s and Twickenham.

In July 1914, Alexander and the Cornwall returned to England, and on Saturday, 18 July, Winston Churchill, the then First Lord of the Admiralty, came on board to visit the crew during the Royal Fleet Review, perhaps to herald what was to come. Just two weeks later, and after less than a week of leave, Alexander was summoned to the naval barracks at Portsmouth where he and his fellow cadets were assigned to HMS Crescent (a first-class cruiser of the Edgar class) as midshipmen. The First World War had begun, quite remarkably just as Alexander had finished his training.

The build-up to war had been gradual and inevitable. Germany looked to emulate Britain’s empire and relations between the two nations became increasingly strained in the early 1900s following the ‘scramble for Africa’ and the alarming escalation of the arms race following the introduction of HMS Dreadnought in 1906.

Under Rear-Admiral Dudley de Chair, who was in command of the Tenth Cruiser Squadron and who was assigned the Crescent as his flagship, Alexander and company were given the unenviable task of maintaining a blockade with a view to intercept all German commerce. Following severe damage to the Crescent during a storm, de Chair and the cadets were transferred to the armed merchant cruiser Alsatian in December 1914. Continuing their strict blockade, it was during 1915 that the Alsatian had been at sea a phenomenal 262 days. She had steamed 71,500 miles and had burned 40,287 tons of coal, all the while negotiating the perils of mines (which they came close to hitting on more than one occasion) and the ever-present threat of U-boats. In recognition of the work of the Tenth Cruiser Squadron, Rear-Admiral de Chair would receive the KCB.

On the infrequent occasions that Alexander was entitled leave, his diary entries offer a tantalising glimpse into how a footloose young Edwardian gentleman spent his time. Frequenting many of the hotspots of London, Liverpool and Edinburgh, Alexander recorded the details of his social life, which, despite the war, was not short of frivolity. Indeed, before the outbreak of hostilities, London had a reputation for being the most glamorous city in the world, and although the reality of war had an effect on its glitz (in particular, the infrequent Zeppelin air raids), it merely dimmed the city’s many lights but never extinguished them.

The most fashionable district was Piccadilly and Regent Street, in particular the Trocadero, Criterion, Monico and Café Royal restaurants. They were all grand affairs, afforded by only the middle and upper classes. Nearby, the Strand was equally chic: the Savoy, Simpson’s, the Drury Lane and Covent Garden theatre district, and the new hotels in and around Aldwych and Holborn (including the Strand Palace and the Waldorf) provided the main sources of entertainment. It is unsurprising that Alexander would visit them all during his leave in London.

Similarly, in Liverpool Alexander enjoyed visiting the Olympia Theatre and Adelphi Hotel. After he was transferred to HMS Invincible in July 1915 and joined the Battle Cruiser Fleet based at Rosyth in the Firth of Forth, as an officer he was able to make the most of all the delights of Scotland’s capital city, frequenting the Waverley on Princes Street, the Café Royal on West Register Street and the Haymarket Ice Rink in particular.

In August 1914, the House of Commons passed the Defence of the Realm Act (DORA) without debate. Fearing that the war effort was becoming hampered by drunkenness, the legislation allowed the government to control civilian behaviour, including the consumption of alcohol. David Lloyd George, the Chancellor of the Exchequer, famously claimed that Britain was ‘fighting the Germans, Austrians and drink, and as far as I can see the greatest of these foes is drink’. Pub drinkers were the hardest hit by the new legislation, which limited opening times. But perhaps the most shocking change of all was the introduction of watered-down beer.

However, restaurants and hotels experienced an influx of young party-goers keen to avoid watered-down beer in favour of wine, spirits and cocktails, which, although heavily taxed, were still affordable. Following the Licensing (Consolidation) Act of 1910, those who were sixteen and over were able to purchase alcoholic beverages, and Alexander as a seventeen-year-old in 1914 certainly made the most of his fortuitous position.

It was around this time that Alexander fell in love with ‘Joko’ Robertson (having previously fallen for her friend, Doris Champion), a family friend and an aspiring actress, who lived a short distance from The Quaives in a house called Westenhanger in neighbouring Ickham. However, their brief relationship was tragically cut short when he was assigned to HMS Invincible. It was to be the first and last battle cruiser Alexander would serve in. Upon hearing of Alexander’s death at the Battle of Jutland in May 1916, his heartbroken father, flexing his financial muscle, used his society status to investigate his son’s last moments. Much like the aforementioned Rudyard Kipling did when his son Jack died at the Battle of Loos, Alexander Caron Scrimgeour interviewed the two highest-ranking officers of the six survivors from HMS Invincible. Not every family of the 1,026 dead would have been able to persuade Commander Dannreuther and Lieutenant Sandford to make a house call. But Alexander’s father did.

When we examine and contextualise the diaries of Alexander Scrimgeour we are immediately struck by just how articulate and intelligent he was. Juxtaposing the rigours of life at sea during the war and the glamour of Edwardian society in London and Kent, Scrimgeour seamlessly goes from love-struck teenage squire to proud midshipman. His love for his family is very much evident throughout, particularly in his letters to his mother, Helen, which although displaying a golden sarcastic wit, are always touching and heartfelt. Alexander signs his letters off as ‘Toby’, which was a long-standing moniker for the Scrimgeour gentlemen named Alexander – of which there have been many. His ability to poke fun at his own expense is charming, especially when he has an off day at the countryside shoot.

Perhaps the most significant feature of the diaries is Alexander’s willingness to record highly confidential information, including government cover-ups and the movement of a German spy. This would have resulted in his court martial and expulsion from the Navy should his diaries have been discovered. On numerous occasions, one has the feeling that he was writing his diary, not just for his own personal record and gratification, but for something far grander.

The shift in tone from 1914 to 1915 is also worth noting. December 1914 saw Alexander spend his first Christmas away from his family, and the poignancy of the occasion is marked in his diary entries. The following year he barely acknowledges the holiday season at all. Indeed, his style of writing changes, too, as do his opinions of the war. Initially Alexander comes across as an eager patriot, and this is reflected in his prose. By 1915, however, a matter-of-fact bluntness replaces his initial enthusiasm. Bearing in mind the vast majority of those serving in the First World War believed it would all be over by Christmas 1914, it seems evident that a year at sea during wartime had sapped Alexander’s spirits.

As part of their training, midshipmen were required to keep a detailed journal of their daily duties at sea (without personal opinion or conjecture). Supplied by the Admiralty, their purpose was to hone and improve the midshipman’s knowledge and understanding of all things nautical. It was by chance that we discovered Alexander’s Midshipman’s Journal covering his time on board Crescent and Alsatian during the editing of these diaries. We have seen fit to incorporate some of his hand-drawn charts and illustrations as well as supplement his journal entries when, for whatever reason, he hadn’t recorded an entry in his personal diary.

During 1915, Alexander left his diary at home for weeks at a time. We can only speculate as to why he did this, although it is fair to assume that he was concerned that his diary would fall into the wrong hands as the war dragged on. This is supported by the fact that his more controversial diary entries were written as amendments on scrap pieces of paper, and included loose.

In editing the diaries, we have kept Alexander’s spellings, particularly of place names, which may differ from modern usage, but have corrected his punctuation when necessary. Alexander made extra notes at the end of his 1914 diary regarding the characters of the officers of the Crescent and Alsatian. We have left them in place.

As stated, Alexander’s surviving diaries begin in 1910 and continue until 1915 (we are left to assume that his 1916 diary would have gone down with him at Jutland). For this new edition, which commemorates the centenary of the Battle of Jutland, we have transcribed earlier, unpublished material. This edition starts in August 1913, when Alexander became a more confident diarist, and takes in his training at Dartmouth Royal Naval College, his enthralling time abroad on HMS Cornwall, as well as the build-up to war through his eyes.

Both sides of Alexander’s life are vividly brought to life in his writing. At once we get an idea of what the drab conditions were like in the ships of the British fleet in the First World War, and yet the thrill of Edwardian society is so often brilliantly described. One wonders what might have become of Alexander had he survived Jutland and the war. It must be remembered that both Jellicoe and Beatty entered the Navy as midshipmen, and Alexander’s friend at Osborne, John Tovey, was Admiral of the Fleet during the Second World War and sank the Bismarck.

From what these diaries tell us about Alexander’s character, apart from putting a very human face on a faceless war, perhaps a similar position would have been bestowed upon him, too. As it is, we have a treasured record of a talented young life suddenly cut short – a tragedy of war.

Mark Beynon

‘RULE BRITANNIA’

THE ROYAL NAVY IN 1914

Alexander Scrimgeour served in the world’s most successful fighting service, heir to Nelson, Trafalgar and an almost unbroken run of success that stretched back even further still. The Royal Navy was responsible for the security, prosperity and power of the British state, the overseas empire and the trade that connected it. For a century it had provided the visible proof of British power that backed up the financial services, in which the elder Srimgeour made his money; and deterred war. Unrivalled in size, reputation and reach, the Edwardian Navy formed the armoured centre of British power, and the core of its culture, from sailor suits to Navy Days and Trafalgar Square.

Britain was a maritime nation with a global empire and no one doubted the sea was the natural element of her people. The effortless superiority that Scrimgeour and his contemporaries assumed reflected an unchallenged reality – this was the Navy. Such organisations do not promote doubt or introspection. Furthermore, the culture of Edwardian Britain was dominated by values that amplified key elements of officer-like behaviour: ‘self-restraint, perseverance, strenuous effort, courage in the face of adversity’ and ‘an abiding sense of duty’.¹

Officer education

At the turn of the twentieth century British naval education underwent a radical transformation. Cadets joined the service at 12 or 13 at the new Osborne College on the Isle of Wight, built amid the stable blocks of Queen Victoria’s favourite home, where they would spend the first two years. Then they moved to Dartmouth, where the old Britannia stationary training ship for officer cadets, a wooden wall left over from the 1850s, had been replaced by a massive new shoreside college. In addition, the curriculum was brought up to date to include engineering and modern languages – subjects in which Scrimgeour demonstrated considerable ability – English, history and seamanship.

Under Alfred Ewing, Director of Naval Education and wartime code-breaker, the curriculum was strikingly modern, lacking the ancient languages and other mental exercises that continued to dominate in the public schools. Ewing recruited a high-quality staff. The object was to produce commissioned officers ready for active duty in a highly technical profession by the age of 20. The architect of these reforms, Admiral Fisher, wanted all cadets to be educated together, to a common curriculum, whether they were destined for engineering, the marines or paymaster duty. This modern educational system was administered by naval officers who imbued the pupils with a rigid code of honour, one that led to a major cause célèbre in the Archer-Shee case of 1908, the basis for the drama The Winslow Boy. This was the structure in place in 1910 and 13-year-old Alexander Scrimgeour joined Osborne under the shadow of the Archer-Shee case.²

After four years at College, cadets of Scrimgeour’s generation went to sea in a training ship before being rated as midshipmen and joining the regular service. They would be 16 or 17. They were well equipped for the task. In August 1914 newly minted midshipman Scrimgeour was about to be posted to his first ship. By contrast, the term below his were rushed into service at the outbreak of war, and many were lost in the armoured cruisers Aboukir, Cressy and Hogue in September.

The benefits of Fisher’s new education system are obvious to any reader of Scrimgeour’s diary. He was soon employed as an interpreter when seizing German trawlers, and made a useful effort at working on Norwegian radio messages. Furthermore, he was comfortable working with the latest fire control instruments, gunsights and engines. As a well-connected young man from a prosperous upper-middle-class background it would be expected that Scrimgeour was destined for a career in the regular service, but by 1915 his obvious mechanical aptitude led him to consider shifting to engineering.

The diaries and letters that survive are those of a well-educated, technically sophisticated young man. The speed with which he adjusted to the demands of war, and the key role he and others like him played in providing up-to-date expertise for older reserve officers indicates the success of the system. His work on the Crescent, rebuilding gunsights, adding fire control gear, handling range finding and gunnery direction demonstrate the success of the Osborne/Dartmouth system in generating the necessary young officers ready for service.

However, midshipmen at sea were still, in effect, under training. They did not qualify for a commission, as sub-lieutenants, until they had been examined in a wide range of specialist aspects of the profession: seamanship, gunnery, navigation, torpedoes and electricity. Throughout the diaries Scrimgeour expresses his anxiety to get first-class marks in his five examinations, which would accelerate his promotion to lieutenant, and the limits of his instruction and instructors while serving with the Tenth Cruiser Squadron and on Invincible. Without quality instruction from the naval instructor and experienced officers on the ships, he could not produce the necessary journals and exercises, or master the subjects to the requisite standard. It may be surmised that Rear-Admiral de Chair was motivated to send him to the Grand Fleet to ensure a fine young officer was ready for the examinations. By May 1916 Scrimgeour was an acting sub-lieutenant in recognition of his experience and his ability pending the examination. He had spent much of his time on Invincible working through the different departments of the ship, gunnery, engineering, etc., making the necessary drawings and journals.

Grand strategy

In August 1914 Britain went to war with well-prepared plans for global war. The government defence co-ordinating body, the Committee of Imperial Defence, had developed a plan to harness the power of the empire and protect the commercial shipping that linked the various dominions and colonies with the home islands, while crushing German overseas trade and colonies through a tough economic blockade. This maritime war would complement the military efforts of Britain’s Entente partners, France and Russia, who were expected to defeat the German and Austro-Hungarian armies in Europe. The small British Expeditionary Force would contribute to the defence of France and Belgium, but the government had no intention of raising or using mass armies on the continental model. They preferred to rely on the Royal Navy, while maintaining British trade and industry.

The linchpin of British strategy was the Grand Fleet at Scapa Flow, which controlled access to the North Sea. By placing a superior fleet across Germany’s international trade routes Britain ensured the destruction of her commerce and her empire, while protecting her own trade. This situation would only change if the Grand Fleet was defeated. The rest of the naval effort operated behind the strategic cover provided by Vice-Admiral Sir John Jellicoe’s dreadnought battleships. There was no need for the British to seek out the German High Seas Fleet, because they expected the economic blockade to win the war and that when the Germans recognised this they would be obliged to take the initiative – to attack the British in the waters between Scotland and Norway.

The Blockade: HMS Crescent and the Tenth Cruiser Squadron

On the eve of war the Royal Navy quickly and efficiently mobilised its officers and men. Scrimgeour was ordered to HMS Crescent, a 7,700-ton protected cruiser of the Edgar class.³ By 1914 these ships were twenty years old and woefully outdated; their obsolescent guns, fire control and engines denied them a place in the main fleet. However, they remained effective seaworthy vessels and gave good service through the war.

The Crescent, the flagship of the Tenth Cruiser Squadron, and her seven sister ships were ordered to the seas off the north of Scotland for blockade service under Rear-Admiral Sir Dudley de Chair. Unfortunately, they soon encountered threats they were ill-equipped for. U-boat torpedoes sank HMS Hawke while mountainous seas sent many back to base for extended repairs. Scrimgeour’s striking description of one particular storm adds power and resonance to the usual laconic official report: Boats were smashed, forty men injured and many compartments simply washed out.

The Tenth Cruiser Squadron occupied the front line of the economic war effort, the main British contribution to the defeat of Germany before mid-1916. The operation of the blockade depended on the interpretation of International Law dealing with the rights of belligerent states and neutrals. German merchant ships were fair game, and a few were taken trying to get home, but the real problem lay in the shipment of goods to Germany in neutral ships, and via neutral third parties. Britain asserted the right to stop neutral merchant ships on the high seas, and inspect their cargo for contraband; that is goods defined as likely to aid the enemy war effort – anything from guns and fuel to army reservists and food.

On 4 August 1914 the British listed obvious war materials destined for Germany as absolute contraband, while food and other items as conditional contraband, liable to seizure if destined for enemy armed forces. On 20 August, the application of this regime was widened to include cargoes destined for contiguous neutrals, Denmark, the Netherlands and Sweden. Six days later rumours that the army had taken control of all German food stocks saw food added to the list of absolute contraband, a serious change in the nature of the blockade, now clearly aimed at the entire population.

The list was widened yet further as the year went on and the USA showed itself favourable to the Anglo-French alliance. The North Sea was defined as a war zone, and all neutral merchant ships were obliged to stop for inspection in the Strait of Dover, with the exception of the Scandinavians. On 11 March 1915 an Order in Council established a complete blockade of Germany, and began to limit the imports of the Scandinavian powers, to stop them exporting any surplus to Germany. This was based on two coercive instruments, British naval power and control of the world’s steam coal supply. While most ships were prepared to accept British demands, the Tenth Cruiser Squadron still had to patrol a vast area of rough and dangerous sea to intercept potential blockade breakers, facing the perils of U-boat attack, mines and a surface sortie by heavy German forces.

As might be expected the Scandinavian states and the Netherlands saw neutrality as an opportunity for profit, quickly generating large agricultural industries to supply Germany with processed animal fats, from butter to bacon. Swedish iron and copper, industrial products and horses all helped to sustain the German war effort while her manpower was detained in uniform. The British government, unlike the Navy which simply assumed all would bend before the will of Britannia, was anxious to keep on good terms with these powers. This would ensure their merchant ships carried goods for the Allies, and prevent them from joining Germany.

The German response – unrestricted submarine warfare – proved to be a diplomatic disaster. With a little help from British propaganda – the same machine that fed Scrimgeour and his friends with ‘Hun’ atrocity stories – the U-boats persuaded neutrals that Germany was more dangerous than Britain. As a result, the blockade was never perfect, and took time to reach a level at which it began to seriously weaken the German war effort. But it was an effective instrument, well handled at all levels.⁴

Scrimgeour’s first-hand account of the business of blockade and patrol reveals the combination of boredom and excitement (bad weather, poor food, discomfort and coaling ship (refuelling)) as they boarded ships and countered German efforts to break blockade with munitions, food, and reservists from the USA and elsewhere. Throughout the war naval officers constantly complained that the Foreign Office was weakening to blockade, kow-towing to the Americans and allowing neutral powers to act as conduits for German imports. This was a particular concern for the Tenth Cruiser Squadron, whose harsh and demanding regime must have been softened by the expectation of a rich haul of prize money.

In the event the naval prize fund was homogenised and paid out pro rata to every man in the service. The complaints of naval officers were serious, but missed the bigger picture. The British government was highly successful in persuading, or coercing neutrals into self-regulation; while the compliance of the US administration and covert intelligence operations predicted most suspect sailings, and positioned ships to intercept. As cipher officer on the Alsatian Scrimgeour was ideally placed to see how these intelligence-led operations worked, and clearly understood how intelligence was used. Admiral de Chair understood the wider ramifications of the blockade, and remained involved in the economic war when he went ashore.

HMS Alsatian

Before the war the Admiralty had recognised the need to supplement the Navy’s cruiser fleet with Armed Merchant Cruisers. Initially they looked at big Atlantic liners, such as the Lusitania, but by 1914 the choice had fallen on smaller, more economic ships that combined long endurance with good seaworthiness. Within months the first of these ships joined the Tenth Cruiser Squadron, replacing the elderly Crescent and her sisters over the winter of 1914–15. Scrimgeour moved to HMS Alsatian, a nearly new 18,000-ton Allan Line steamer built for the Liverpool–Canada trade. Armed with eight 6-inch guns, she became the flagship. In 1915 she spent 262 days at sea, covering 71,500 miles and burning 40,287 tons of coal.⁵

This was the grim reality of the economic blockade, hard sea service, for extended periods, stopping and searching merchant ships: Scrimgeour notes that between 8 March and 19 April 1915 367 ships were intercepted, and 129 sent in for inspection with a prize crew on board. Every detail of the work was hard, not least the business of lowering a boat, rowing across to the suspect vessel and getting on board. Scrimgeour only went once or twice, but he got very wet. More significantly, he was involved with Alsatian’s modern guns and fire control equipment. These ships were ideally suited to the task, and well equipped.

While Scrimgeour was apt to be dismissive of his admiral (an opinion that others have repeated), de Chair knew that his young officers were the future of the Navy. He did not keep the best midshipmen in his squadron, where their education would suffer, and once the Armed Merchant Cruisers were up to standard he was content to get by with reserve officers and volunteers. If old ‘Duds’ had a soft spot for Scrimgeour, it was because the young officer had shown great promise in all aspects of his work. Clearly he had good links and impressed the men who mattered.

The dramatic, crushing British victory off the Falklands Islands in December 1914 ended the oceanic phase of the war at sea. This allowed the British to concentrate their naval effort in the main theatres, especially the North Sea where all modern capital ships were assembled. It also simplified the work of the Tenth Cruiser Squadron, which no longer needed to look over its shoulder in case German warships came in from the west.

HMS Invincible

In July 1915 Scrimgeour exchanged the hard graft of the blockade for the most glamorous posting in the Navy, the battle cruiser HMS Invincible, flagship of Rear-Admiral Sir Horace Hood’s Third Battle Cruiser Squadron. The Battle Cruiser Fleet was based at Rosyth in the Firth of Forth. Completed in 1908, the 18,000-ton, 26-knot Invincible was the first of her type, a dreadnought armed with eight 12-inch guns, and powerful turbine engines.⁶ Conceived by Admiral Sir John Fisher to combine the speed and firepower needed to deal with threats to ocean shipping, the battle cruisers quickly became iconic. With three mighty funnels belching smoke to set off the high freeboard hulls and a powerful bow wave, they looked every inch the ideal warship, and after action at the Heligoland Bight in August 1914 and the battle of the Falkland Islands in December, Invincible had a high profile.

Under the dynamic leadership of Vice-Admiral Sir David Beatty the Battle Cruiser Fleet saw themselves as the elite of the service, and played hard living up to the image: The new boy soon discovered this was an expensive posting. Nevertheless, coaling ship remained a monumental task for the entire ship’s company.

However, the battle cruiser type bought their speed, 6 or 7 knots faster than contemporary battleships, at the expense of reduced armour protection. After Jutland it was argued that this caused the loss of three of the type, and their glittering reputation suffered a sudden reverse.⁷

Hood, the third son of the Fourth Lord Hood, was a direct descendant of Nelson’s mentor, Admiral Samuel, Lord Hood. While Scrimgeour manages to confuse a little of the family tree in one of his letters home, he was well aware of the powerful dynastic connections between his admiral and the greatest names in naval history. He also noted that Hood, like Beatty, had married an American woman, and picked up some of the speech and mannerisms of his in-laws. Hood was also a familiar figure; he had been captain of the Osborne College during Scrimgeour’s time.

In one vital respect the Battle Cruiser Fleet mirrored the Tenth Cruiser Squadron: Both operated on intelligence leads provided by the Admiralty’s code-breaking unit, Room 40. Poor German radio discipline gave the British precious insights into their plans, opportunities to intercept their infrequent sorties, and the luxury of waiting in harbour rather than patrol. In late November/early December 1915 a fleet exercise tested one scenario, a German battle cruiser sortie into the Atlantic. Scrimgeour and several of his contemporaries sat their examinations for sub-lieutenant early in 1916, and he passed. This brought him into the Navy as an officer holding the King’s commission, and increased his responsibilities.

In March and April 1916 the fleet went to sea, first to support a seaplane raid, and then to intercept a German sortie, and only missed contact by fifty or sixty miles. Returning from the second cruise Invincible collided with an armed yacht, and suffered considerable damage. The enforced docking gave Scrimgeour his last shore leave.

The Battle of Jutland

After the ship returned to sea the Third Battle Cruiser Squadron was detached to Scapa Flow for long overdue gunnery exercises: They could not conduct full-calibre shoots at Rosyth without breaking all the windows in Kirkcaldy. In their absence the Battle Cruiser Fleet was supplemented by the Fifth Battle Squadron. The exercises at Scapa were ‘highly satisfactory’. Before they could return to Rosyth the fleet sortied, and the Third formed up with Jellicoe’s Grand Fleet, while the Fifth Battle Squadron took its place in the Battle Cruiser Fleet. This time they would meet the Germans, the long-awaited day had come. Contemporary accounts, both those sent to Scrimgeour’s parents and others, make it clear the fleet set out with high hopes of battle and victory, having the chance to do their bit.

Acting ahead of Jellicoe’s Grand Fleet, Hood’s force missed the opening exchanges of the Run to the South, during which Beatty lost two of his battle cruisers. On a day when most British flag officers proved too cautious, and a few, such as Beatty (HMS Lion) and Robert Arbuthnot (HMS Defence), overly aggressive, Hood stands out. Listening to incomplete and confusing hints from the radio he used his initiative to bring his squadron into battle, and achieved decisive effect, smashing the German scouting forces that were looking for Jellicoe’s main fleet, and crippling the flagship enemy battle cruiser Lützow in a high-speed medium-range engagement, between 9000 and 10,000 yards. The last words that Scrimgeour, as the officer of X turret, would have heard were Hood’s ringing endorsement of the ship’s gunnery: ‘Your firing is very good, keep at it as quickly as you can, every shot is telling.’

Then the smoke of battle parted and a second German battle cruiser, the Derfflinger, also opened fire. At 6.34pm a German salvo, two 12-inch shells, hit Invincible amidships, smashing through the 7-inch-thick frontal armour of Q turret, exploding in the loading chamber. The explosion set off the loose cordite charges, blowing the roof off the turret, and instantaneously passed down through the ammunition hoists to the main amidships magazine, which exploded with catastrophic force. A vast crimson flame, followed by a hellish pall