Gallipoli: War at Sea, #2

By Paul Neumann

Shortly and formally the Battle of Gallipoli, also known as the Dardanelles Campaign, can be described as a failed amphibious operation launched by the Allies in a strategically important region of Turkey in 1915-1916. It was a battle very unusual for the First World War. It stood apart from the gruesome picture of bloody and ineffectual battles of the Western front, and resembled rather colonial wars of the preceding century.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Paul Neumann
• Release date: Jan 16, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224554270

Book preview

Paul Neumann

Gallipoli

The Last Battle of the Victorian Era

© Paul Neumann, 2024

Great enterprise slowly and shamefully muddled and cast away by half measures and three-quarter measures all taken just too late. (Winston Churchill)

Front cover: The Sinking of the Bouvet by Tahsin Siret. Painting from the collections of Istanbul Naval Museum. Public domain.

ISBN 979-8-2245-5427-0

Created with Ridero smart publishing system

Contents

Gallipoli

Casualties? What casualties?

Pursuit of Goeben and Breslau

Crisis in the Straits

Prelude to disaster

Ships against forts

War and politics

The Dardanelles’ reveille

Blood on the beaches

Battle on the bridgeheads

Battle at sea

Battle in the air

Stalemate

The final push

Evacuation

Landmarks

Cover

Great enterprise slowly and shamefully muddled and cast away by half measures and three-quarter measures all taken just too late.

Winston Churchill

It was a battle very unusual for the First World War. It stood apart from the gruesome picture of bloody and ineffectual battles of the Western front, and resembled rather colonial wars of the preceding century.

Shortly and formally the Battle of Gallipoli, also known as the Dardanelles Campaign, can be described as a failed amphibious operation launched by the Allies in a strategically important region of Turkey in 1915–1916. Yet, this definition does not reflect the importance and the grandeur of the events. It is better to say that it was a major naval operation of the First World War, the biggest seaborne landing operation, the most significant Allies’ defeat, and, subsequently, the biggest and the last military victory of the Ottoman Empire. Yet, the significance of the Battle of Gallipoli is not limited to these observations, because indirectly it had reflected on all major events of the Great War happening on the other fronts. And what is quite unique in the history of the mankind, it became a defining moment for three nations – Australia, New Zealand, and the Turkish Republic – where dates connected to the events of the battle have become their national holidays.

Casualties? What casualties?

Biographers of Winston Churchill do not like to write about the mistakes and blunders that extraordinary man had made quite a few. Especially costly to Great Britain was his insatiable desire to command the troops in the field. What comes to the mind, first of all, is the evacuation of Dunkirk in 1940, the Greek campaign in 1941, the abortive landings at Dieppe in 1942, and in the Dodecanese in 1943, as well as the disastrous airborne operation at Arnhem in 1944. But all those defeats that dearly cost the Royal Army, Navy, and Air Force fade away before the operation that Churchill ventured in 1915 – the attempt to break through the Dardanelles, and to strike Turkey out of the Great War.

At that time Churchill held the post of the First Lord of the Admiralty. In the thick of the First World War, when the Allies’ situation was somewhat dubious after a series of painful defeats, he proposed to strike the Central Powers from the southern wing and strike out of the war their weakest link – the Ottoman Empire. The entire War Cabinet was against such a military gamble. Neither the First Sea Lord, Admiral John Fisher, nor the Secretary of State for War, Field Marshal Herbert Horatio Kitchener, supported Churchill. Yet, Sir Winston was known for rare energy and vigour, and under his pressure his opponents gave in. In fact, Fisher quite quickly changed his mind, and even became again a sworn opponent of the operation, but he did not find much support anyway.

It was not enough that Churchill was the political figure to inspire the operation; he interfered with purely military issues as well. As a result, the operation from the onset turned into a terrible disaster, or strictly speaking after the naval disaster in the Strait of Dardanelles, there followed the disaster of the landing troops on Gallipoli. It is difficult to bring up another example of a battle, in which the loss om many ships, and many thousands of soldiers would bring about no results.

On the Western front. First Lord of the Admiralty Winston Churchill among the British commanders in 1914.

Yet, the admirals and generals commanding their units in the zone of the battle had demonstrated the incompetence as great, as that of their supreme military command, and political leadership. Incompetence on all the levels, and in each and every aspect of conducting military operations became the characteristic feature of the Dardanelles disaster. It turned out that the generals did not comprehend the nature of the modern warfare, being stuck in the golden age of the Victorian era; whereas the admirals were full of weakness and indecision – far from the resolute naval commanders of the Nelson era. Junior officers did not perform any better. And the explanation is as incredible, as obvious: In 1914 the average age of battalion commanders of the Royal Army had turned 50. This is the age to command corps and divisions, but in the British army, those posts were occupied by oldies. Hence Churchill’s venture resulted in the loss of 6 battleships, and 250 thousand men.

Very often the defeats of the initial phase of the First World War are blamed, and rightfully so, on the poor qualifications of the commanding officers. But the history of the Dardanelles operation in 1915 demonstrates the exemplary case of incompetence and inadequacy of the command. Such characters as Admirals Archibald Berkeley Milne and Sackville Carden, as well as Generals Ian Hamilton, Aylmer Hunter-Weston, and Frederick Stopford have forever written their names on the pages of the military history of the British Empire; yet, those are not the pages that young lieutenants are dreaming of.

A British historian Robin Neillands wrote a voluminous book The Great War Generals on the Western Front, 1914–1918,

[1]

in which he tried to exonerate British generals, who distinguished themselves in sending, often needlessly, hundreds of thousands of young men to their deaths on the fronts of the Great War. He did it against the common opinion, which was not much flattering: Most of the British commanders were callous, heartless, stupid, and cruel aristocrats, who were fighting the war far from the trenches, in their family estates, filling themselves with Scotch whisky, and sending on the barbed-wire entanglements and enemy machine-gun fire a wave after a wave of soldiers perishing in fruitless frontal attacks till the very last day of the war. The apotheosis of their way of conducting military operations became the first day of the battle of the Somme on 1 July 1916, when the British army lost 57,470 men, in this 19,240 killed. Casualties? What do I care about casualties? said earlier Major-General Sir Aylmer Gould Hunter-Weston, the commander of the 29th Division on Gallipoli, in response to reproach from General Hamilton.

[2]

In the slaughter of the Somme, Sir Aylmer, already a Lieutenant-General, was placed in command of the VIII Corps, which suffered the biggest casualties to no result. There comes an interesting effect: The book turns out smarter than the author; the narrative gets out of the hand, and historical truth proves stronger than the author’s intent. As a result, Neillands proves what he tried to disprove. No wonder that the last chapter of his book is titled A verdict on the generals. Not without purpose Neillands limited the scope of his book to the Western front, and did not mention Gallipoli. After all, in the West the British army at least could be credited with some success; in Gallipoli, the result was disheartening – only casualties, and no effect.

There is some irony in the fact that in the First World War, only the British army lost two field marshals. In November 1914, Frederick Roberts went to northern France to inspect the troops, and contracted pneumonia, from which he did not recover. In June 1916, Kitchener embarked on a diplomatic mission to Russia, and died aboard cruiser Hampshire, which struck German mines in a heavy sea, and sank with the almost entire crew.

The Royal Navy had no better record. Alas, it too showed a complete lack of preparedness for modern sea warfare. Incompetence and indecision mixed there with a fair share of arrogance and sloppiness. Admirals were absolutely confident that the splendour of the Mistress of the Seas alone would bring them a victory. Alas! One can argue at infinity about mines being the weapon of the weak, but one cannot ignore the fact that it was the weapon that inflicted the heaviest losses on the most powerful navy of the world. It may be a consolation that the six battleships the British lost in the Dardanelles were old units with grossly deteriorated combat capabilities. Yet, the Bouvet and the Ocean took to the bottom almost entire crews of theirs. Each of them became the grave of more than 500 men. The overall casualties were substantial as well.

The narrative of the Dardanelles operation usually starts from the year 1807, when the British squadron under the command of Adm. Sir John Duckworth sailed up the Dardanelles to show up off Constantinople. The British intended to demonstrate their power to the Turks, and force them to agree to a number of demands. On the way, Duckworth destroyed a small Turkish squadron, and it seemed he was reaching for success. Yet, instead of a firm ultimatum, reinforced with artillery salvoes, British diplomats engaged in senseless, protracted negotiations, which took them nowhere. As a result, Duckworth had to go back, and that time his voyage down the Dardanelles cost him way more. He was lucky enough that he did not stay a few weeks more in the Sea of Marmara, as the Turks were gathering their forces, and were about to sink the entire British fleet. And so, the British got away with damaged ships, and serious casualties.

But what is more interesting, while historians like to elaborate in detail that debacle of the Royal Navy, they usually diligently forget to mention the reasons for the operation, which are very interesting. In 1806 Napoleon started a new war on the European continent, and the war went badly from the onset to the enemies of France. In 1807, upon intrigues of the French ambassador Horace Sébastiani, Turkey declared war on Russia. It was extremely inconvenient to the British, as they needed to keep their most worthy ally in the war with Napoleon, and the supplier of wheat via the Black Sea route. That is why they undertook the Dardanelles expedition. However, it failed to achieve its goals, and Russia eventually signed the Treaties of Tilsit, and joined the Continental Blockade which further aggravated Britain’s situation.

In 1915 the situation repeated. The commander-in-chief of the Russian army, Grand Duke Nicholas Nikolaevich turned to the British with an appeal to undertake some operations against the Turks in order to relieve operations on the Caucasian front. The rest was Churchill’s idea – one of his initiatives that so often cost the British army and navy dearly. Churchill believed that if the Royal Navy broke through to Constantinople, Turkey would have no other choice but to capitulate. Kitchener and Fisher opposed him, but Churchill convinced them, especially so that participation of the land troops was not planned, and the navy was supposed to engage in the Dardanelles only older ships, which could still have just about any use.

And so there came the military operation, which can be characterized by everything that can go wrong: wrong place, wrong time, wrong forces, and wrong methods. That operation started late, ended prematurely, and it is hard to say which was worse. Tens of thousands of lost human lives, sunken ships, and grave military and political consequences – that was the outcome of Churchill’s private venture.

One can get the taste of the drama of that battle from the Australian film Gallipoli with Mel Gibson. It is a difficult and gruesome, yet honest and unvarnished picture of the war. They do not show it in Great Britain. Oh, no – there is no censorship, of course, for there cannot be censorship in the United Kingdom; they just do not show it there – that’s it! And yet it depicts a quite specific and dramatic episode of the Australian history, which took part in the beginning of August 1915 on the bridgehead occupied by the Australian forces – the so-called Battle of the Nek, in which 372 Australian soldiers died in an attempt to push the frontline some 100 metres away by orders of a British senior officer.

This book speaks about this battle among the other ones, as well as about the whole campaign at sea and on the land, about its military outcome, and political implications.

[1] R. Neillands. The Great War Generals on the Western Front, 1914–1918. Endeavour Media, 2013.

[2] M. J. Mortlock. The Landings at Suvla Bay 1915: An Analysis of British Failure During the Gallipoli Campaign. McFarland, 2007.

Pursuit of Goeben and Breslau

The abortive attempt of the Royal Navy to break through the Dardanelles was preceded by another episode, which predetermined the further course of the war in the Mediterranean and Black Seas to a great degree. The Mediterranean Squadron composed of the battle cruiser Goeben and light cruiser Breslau under the command of Rear-Admiral Wilhelm Souchon managed to cross without any major problems the eastern Mediterranean from Sicily to the Dardanelles, safely slipping away from the pursuing Anglo-French naval forces, which possessed a great superiority in numbers and firepower.

In fact, that episode of the Great War is often referred to as the spectacular, or dashing flight of Goeben and Breslau. Yet, those words bring to mind hoisted war flags, fierce broadside salvoes, turbulent bow waves, and the plumes of dense, black smoke creeping behind the sterns… And the feverish, tense suspense: Who will hit the target first? Will the pursued one plunge a shell under the waterline of the pursuer, who will have to reduce the speed to avoid breaking the bulkheads under the pressure of the water, or will the pursuer hit the enemy’s engine room, and the doomed prey, shrouded in clouds of steam and fire, will come to a stop? Never mind, for on closer examination, the episode to open the war in the Mediterranean Sea resembles a lazy stroll of two sleepy bugs on a window glass rather than a sea battle. Here and there, up and down, waddling, reflecting, and hesitating. And above all – pointless and aimless, at least for one of the opponents.

Mediterranean Squadron under the command of Rear-Admiral Souchon en route to Turkey.

The voyage of Goeben and Breslau is one of the episodes of the First World War most discussed in historical, and popular literature. Their common point is a comparison of the pursuit of Goeben and Breslau with the Channel Dash – German battleships Scharnhorst and Gneisenau, as well as the heavy cruiser Prinz Eugen’s, escape from Brest to safety in German waters, but this analogy is purely superficial. The events of 1914 differ dramatically from the events of 1942, and the operation Zerberus was way more spectacular than Goeben and Breslau’s practically unmolested escape. Whereas the strategic effects of both operations had been exactly the opposite. In 1942 Scharnhorst and Gneisenau’s another raid in the Atlantic would be more than dubious, and their deployment in Norway did not change the operational situation on the Arctic convoy routes, while in 1914 the arrival of Goeben and Breslau to Constantinople had turned the whole situation in the Middle East upside-down. It brought Turkey’s entry into the war, and forced the British to launch the Dardanelles operation, which ended in crushing defeat and heavy losses. And no wonder that none other than Sir Winston Spencer Churchill, future winner of the Nobel Prize in literature, gave that episode the most colourful depiction: On the morning of August 7 the Goeben, already the fastest capital unit in the Mediterranean, was steaming on an unobstructed course for the Dardanelles, carrying with her for the peoples of the East and Middle East more slaughter, more misery and more ruin than has ever before been borne within the compass of a ship.

[1]

Interestingly enough, many a British historians want to see the Goeben as the reason of nonetheless but the Great October Socialist Revolution in Russia, and all the following perturbations in the world’s history. Say, the ship arrived in Constantinople, Turkey declared war on the Entente, the Black Sea straits got closed, arms and munitions supplies for the Russian army ceased, the East front collapsed, Russia bailed out of the war, Bolsheviks took advantage of the chaos, and the opportunity to seize the power. Such a logical chain. And the Goeben was the culprit!

That story started in 1912 during the First Balkan War. The coalition of the Balkan countries – Greece, Bulgaria, Serbia, and Montenegro – dealt Turkey a crushing defeat. The fall of Constantinople seemed to be a matter of days. And then the Grand Vizier called upon the great powers to send a squadron of naval forces to the Black Sea straits to protect the capital of the Ottoman Empire. Such a squadron was actually formed: Countries, which signed the Treaty of Berlin in 1878 indeed provided few ships to the composition of the squadron. Emperor William II proved most farseeing: He sent to the Mediterranean two modern ships – battle cruiser Goeben, and light cruiser Breslau – although he could limit the committed forces to older ships, which would not affect the strength of the High Seas Fleet in the North Sea. Souchon was placed in command of the Mediterranean Squadron on 23 October 1913. Among his colleagues, he was known as a diplomat.

In the spring of 1914, Goeben made a number of voyages; her bottom required cleaning, and her machinery required repairs. According to German Rear-Admiral Hermann Lorey, Goeben was not able to keep up more than 14 knots speed, and only occasionally could develop 20 knots.

[2]

Therefore, after the assassination of duke Franz Ferdinand, which took place in Sarajevo on 28 June 1914, the cruiser was urgently summoned to the Austro-Hungarian naval base in Pola for overhaul. Although her machines could not be brought back to full capacity, Goeben was able to develop 24 knots.

As early as in March 1914 during Souchon’s meeting with the commander-in-chief of the Austrian navy Adm. Anton Haus it was decided that the main task of the Central Powers in the Mediterranean Sea would be preventing transferring of the colonial troops from Algeria to France. Austrian and Italian light cruisers and torpedoboats were supposed to come to the aid of the German squadron. But that plan was realistic only in case if Italy entered the war; yet the Italians had demonstrated enough prudence to stay away from the conflict for a while. Let us recall the sequence of events leading to the outbreak of the Great War: on 1 August 1914 Germany declared war on Russia, on 3 August Germany declared war on France, on 4 August Great Britain declared war on Germany, on 6 August Austro-Hungary declared war on Russia, on 11 August France declared war on Austro-Hungary, and on 12 August Great Britain declared war on Austro-Hungary. All that mess was able to cause confusion on any admiral used to simple schemes: there is the enemy, here are our guns – aim! fire!

Therefore, no wonder that confusion reigned among the allies, whose politicians did everything possible to confuse their militarymen. On the other hand, the militarymen did not do justice to themselves, although the Germans had a strategic initiative in the decision-making processes, and that gave them some advantage.

In the Mediterranean Sea, England possessed a squadron of battle cruisers based on Malta: Inflexible, Indefatigable, and Indomitable were fitted with eight 305mm guns, and had a theoretical speed of 25.5 knots. Four armoured cruisers Black Prince, Defence, Duke of Edinburgh, and Warrior were fitted with 234mm, 190mm, and 152mm guns, but were not able to develop more than 23 knots speed. Also in the Mediterranean operated four Town-class light cruisers fitted with 152mm guns, and developing 25.5 knots speed. All those forces were assembled under the orders of Admiral Sir Archibald Berkeley Milne, who had a firm reputation of a social admiral. He owed his rank and position to flattery and spinelessness rather than professional aptitude. And no wonder that in the critical situation, Milne had demonstrated a total lack of initiative and foresight. In 1912 Admiral John Fisher wrote to Churchill:

I consider you have betrayed the Navy in these three appointments, and what the pressure could have been to induce you to betray your trust is beyond my comprehension. You are aware that Sir Berkeley Milne is unfitted to be the Senior Admiral afloat as you have now made him.

[3]

Intemperate Fisher hated Milne dearly, and used to refer to him publicly as a serpent of the lowest order. The commander of the First Cruiser Squadron was a descendant of one of Nelson’s best commanders Rear-Admiral Ernest Troubridge, who was considered one of the best British naval commanders – and his reputation was well-grounded.

It is worth noting that the strategic situation in the Mediterranean Sea was extremely complicated. The French possessed there 3 dreadnoughts, out of which 2 were not fully combat-ready yet, and 10 battleships under the command of Vice-Admiral Augustin Boué de Lapeyrère. Opposing them were 3 Austro-Hungarian dreadnoughts and 3 battleships. There were also 2 Italian dreadnoughts and 6 battleships – in case if they had joint the Austrians, Anglo-French chances in a sea clash would have been more than doubtful. Nevertheless, the British command in the Mediterranean had enough of a headache even without the Italian fleet. The saying of Napoleon – At bottom the great question is – Who shall have Constantinople? – still held good.

[4]

Many countries were competing for influencing sultan Mehmed V. Great Britain sent to Constantinople a naval mission with Rear-Admiral Arthur Limpus to train Turkish sailors, while Germany sent an army mission with General Otto Liman von Sanders to train Turkish soldiers.

Certainly, the British made most of the mistakes, but for the sake of fairness, it is worth saying that those were not British, who launched the chain reaction of errors. The main task of the French Mediterranean Fleet was securing the unmolested transfer of the troops of the XIX Corps from Algeria to Marseilles, wherein it was decided already before the war that in order not to waste time elements of the XIX Corps should be sent off one by one without forming convoys. That decision was made without Goeben in mind. As a result, de Lapeyrère got confused, but so were his superiors in Paris as well. On 2 August there took place a conference, during which the war minister, Adolphe Messimy, questioned the navy’s capabilities, but the minister of marine, Armand Gauthier, contrary, insisted on a prompt attack on the German naval forces. After a pitched argument, with cursing and swearing, Gauthier handed over his resignation the day before the declaration of war on France by Germany. It was not until 4 August that Jean-Victor Augagneur was appointed the new minister of marine, but for two critical days, the French navy happened without supreme command.

Meanwhile, on 2 August de Lapeyrère aboard his flagship Courbet in Toulon received a message from Bizerta that radio-communication between German ships was intercepted. The Admiral immediately sent back to Bizerta and Algiers the order to stop shipping the troops. As the French fleet remained in its ports, unready for combat actions, that meant a delay in transferring the elements of the XIX Corps to France by two days at least. It was not until 1:30 that de Lapeyrère received a message from Paris that the German ships were spotted off Messina.

Indeed, on 2 August Goeben and Breslau arrived in Messina, but they did not find there any Austro-Hungarian or Italian ships. What is more, the Italians refused to supply the Germans with food or coal. All that Souchon was able to do was receive a load of coal from the German steamer General. On 2 August the German Admiralty informed Souchon that the hostilities broke out between Germany and Russia, and the war with France became inevitable. Souchon on his own account decided to attack French naval posts in Algeria, and at night from 2 to 3 August, his squadron left Messina.

On 3 August French forces left Toulon. Admiral de Lapeyrère divided his forces into three groups. Group A under the command or Rear-Admiral Paul Chocheprat had to head for Philippeville. Chocheprat had under his command battleships Diderot (flagship), it Condorcet, Danton, Mirabeau, Vergniaud and Voltaire, four armoured cruisers, and 12 torpedoboats. De Lapeyrère assumed the command of the Group B, which comprised dreadnought Courbet, battleships Democratie, Justice, Patrie, Republique and Vèrite, three armoured cruisers, and 12 torpedoboats. Group B headed for Algiers. Group C under the command of Rear-Admiral Émile Paul Amable Guépratte comprised old battleships Suffren (flagship), Bouvet, Gaulois, Jauréguiberry and St. Louis, and four torpedoboats, and received orders to head for Oran. The French did not seem to hurry, though, and sailed at 12-knots speed.

It remains unclear how Souchon wanted to attack French transports in the face of such forces. Maybe he believed in the mythical superiority of any dreadnought over any number of armoured ships, although his encounters with the Russian Black Sea Fleet must have proven him wrong. Nevertheless, while the German admiral decided to go for a minor tactical gain, he put his squadron in a very dangerous position.

But then the politicians added more confusion to the whole situation. At 1:10 de Lapeyrère received a very strange directive from Paris: Following the advice of the minister of marine, the government forbade de Lapeyrère to spend time on forming convoys, and ordered that troop transports proceeded independently and singly towards their destination at full speed. As stated, the aim of the directive was to assure the transport of the French troops from North Africa in the shortest possible time with the least risk. The French admiral could not fathom the logic of such orders, and decided to ignore them. Very soon further events proved him right.

On 4 August at dawn, the German battle cruiser made her appearance off Philippeville, while her companion – off Bône in Algeria. Between 6:08 and 6:18 Goeben fired 43 105mm shells at the port and its navigation station, while Breslau fired 60 shells at Bône. The Germans reported serious damages, and disruption of departure of the troops, but it was not so. After the shelling German ships departed westwards. Admiral de Lapeyrère ordered Group A to intercept and engage Goeben as soon as possible, yet the squadron could sail only at 15-knot speed due to worn-out machinery on Mirabeau and torpedoboat Le Carabinier. The balance of forces was so favourable to the French that if de Lapeyrère had ordered an animated pursuit, one of the French squadrons would surely have intercepted the Germans. Instead, he made a gross blunder as he had bound the whole fleet to the slowest ship (the Mirabeau).

As a result, it was already too late to undertake any action, when at 6:30 the watches reported spotting smokes moving eastward off the Cap de Fer. Courbet received that message at 9:15, and Admiral de Lapeyrère decided to ignore it. From that moment on, the French fleet was effectively out of the game. That is why on 5 August, when de Lapeyrère formed Group D, composed of Courbet, Condorcet, and Vergniaud, it had no bearing on further events anymore. The only success that the French admiral could brag about was that all 48,000 men, and 11,800 horses duly reached France with minimal delay. Meanwhile, he was very close to encountering Souchon, and putting him in no means trouble.

After shelling French ports, German ships reunited to continue their voyage. On 4 August in the morning, Souchon received from Berlin the message that read: Alliance with Turkey concluded August 3. Proceed at once to Constantinople.

[5]

At that time Souchon did not know that the Admiralty somewhat outrun events – the mission of the German ambassador in Turkey, Hans Freiherr von Wangenheim, was not completed entirely yet. The Turkish minister of war, Ismail Enver Pasha, was not absolutely sure that an alliance with Germany had been in the best interest of the Young Turks, who exercised almost absolute control over the Ottoman Empire. But such details did not bother the German admiral. He had another problem to solve: In order to have made the ordered voyage, he needed to refill the bunkers, and therefore, Souchon decided to go back to Messina.

Meanwhile, Milne’s main forces were still in Alexandria; Troubridge was in Durazzo (Durres) with his flagship Defence and one torpedoboat. On 27 June the Admiralty informed British naval forces that the European political situation rendered war not impossible, and preparations were to be made, as unobtrusively as possible, to shadow ships of the Central Powers. Troubridge was ordered to complete coaling, and proceed to Malta at normal speed.

The same message recalled Milne from Alexandria to Valletta, where he received further orders:

It now seems probable should war break out and England and France engage in it, that Italy will remain neutral and that Greece can be made an ally. Spain also will be friendly and possibly an ally. The attitude of Italy is however uncertain and it is especially important that your squadron should not be seriously engaged with Austrian ships before we know what Italy will do. Your first task should be to aid the French in the transportation of their African army by covering and