Despite Hall’s insistence, the question of whether it can be established that
the acquisition of the German ships caused Turkey’s entry into the war is
fraught with imponderables: for how long could the Ottoman Government have
resisted the unrelenting German pressure? What was the possibility of a Russian
incursion on Turkey’s eastern frontier which would have resulted in war from
another direction? Would the simmering dispute with Greece over the Aegean
Islands have dragged the Turks into a wider Balkan conflict? Nevertheless
possession of the two ships greatly facilitated the onset of war by ceding to
Turkey at a stroke command of the Black Sea; furthermore Admiral Souchon had a
degree of latitude available to him in his actions that did not fall to General
Liman von Sanders, the head of the German Military Mission to Turkey. The
Turkish game of avoiding action for as long as possible was transparent and
Souchon certainly hastened its conclusion; as he himself declared, ‘I have
thrown the Turks into the powder-keg and kindled war between Russia and Turkey.’
It has subsequently been argued that the
escape of Goeben had ‘no effect on anything very much’ as the Turks had
already signed an alliance with Germany.
This ignores the developments which occurred in September and October 1914 and
which made it feasible that, without the presence of the German ships, Turkey
could, if so inclined, have kept out of the war indefinitely. It should be
obvious that, despite the fact of the Turco-German alliance on 2 August, little
had happened since. On the day after the signing a British Admiral still
remained in charge of the Turkish fleet and would continue to do so for another
month. Despite a report to the contrary from the Military Attaché, the Turkish
mobilization was lethargic, a result in part of dire economic necessity. By
September, German hopes that Turkey would participate actively in the war rested
with Enver Pasha, the Minister for War, whose position was not strong enough to
allow for his taking unilateral action. Enver’s first attempt to force the issue
– his authorization to Souchon on 14 September to patrol in the Black Sea in an
endeavour to manufacture an incident – soon fell foul of the waverers in the
Turkish Cabinet.
This rebuff was viewed so alarmingly by the
Germans that Admiral Guido von Usedom, who had been sent to assist in the
defence of the Straits, admitted that the various German technical missions
existed ‘only through Enver, and depend on him for results’. Von Usedom further
believed that if the waverers gained the upper hand ‘the prospect of working
with the Turks will have passed.’
As a direct result of this political defeat Souchon, on 20 September, felt able
to send only Breslau into the Black Sea and then for a matter of a few
scant hours. This merely succeeded in spurring Enver on; the following day,
realizing that Turkish authorization of Souchon’s provocative cruises would be
unobtainable in the near future, Enver declared that Souchon had a right to
maintain German interests, even if these conflicted with Turkish. Further
pressure was applied by the Germans early in October when Richard von Kühlmann
was dispatched from Berlin with a brief to ensure Turkey’s speedy entry into the
war. The options available for him to accomplish this task were, of necessity,
limited: a Turkish advance towards Suez, or a Turco-German foray into the Black
Sea — only with regard to the latter would the Germans be in complete control.
When dealing with these arguments, the wider
strategic position should not be overlooked; indeed it would come to assume
crucial importance. At the Porte during August it appeared as if the German
forces would soon achieve the victory that was widely expected. Not until early
September was the German advance on the Western Front checked following which,
by October, trenches had been dug and the race to the sea had commenced, to be
won by neither side. The result was an impending stalemate. Furthermore, while
the first encounter with the Russian steamroller had resulted in a crushing
German victory, the Austro-German forces had received a check at the First
Battle of Warsaw while, further south, the Austrians were being hard pressed by
the Serbs. By October, it was no longer possible to assume automatically that
the only result of the war would be a German victory. Yet it was the chance to
regain territory as a result of a victorious march with the Central Powers that
weighed so heavily in the counsels at Constantinople. Once the issue was in
doubt, if only slightly, Enver lost a key bargaining point. Worse, if it
appeared that the allies might actually be making some headway, the arguments in
favour of continuing Turkish neutrality (even if this remained biased in
Germany’s favour) would be overwhelming. Enver therefore had little choice but
to force the issue before news was received of a setback to German arms.
To accomplish this task his method of attack
was two-pronged: a demand for German gold which, when forthcoming, at least
invoked a moral debt for Turkey to enter the lists and second, if all else
failed, a direct order to Souchon to attack Russian ships. The Turkish demand
for T£2 million on 11 October was quickly met by the Germans: all the gold had
arrived in Constantinople by 21 October. This was not as conclusive as it might
have seemed however, as previous shipments had been sent to little effect.
Mallet, the British Ambassador, had already surmised that the Turks might be
playing with the Germans, ‘and having obtained from them soldiers, sailors,
cannons, supplies, money and promises they are now showing great and increased
reluctance to pay the bill.’
Similarly, when on 23 October Mallet became aware of the latest shipment of
gold, he maintained that this ‘need not indicate immediate declaration of war’.
A further complication had arisen for Enver following the death of King Carol of
Roumania on 10 October. The removal of the King, an ardent supporter of Austria,
cast some doubt on the prospect of Roumania aligning herself with the Central
Powers; indeed, the very possibility that she might gravitate towards the
allies, when combined with the lack of German progress on the battlefield and
the weak position of the Turkish forces, was enough to warrant talk of a Turkish
envoy being sent to Berlin to plead for a further six months of neutrality.
The only sure means by which Enver could
force his country into the war rested solely with the command of Admiral
Souchon. Enver had little choice — on 25 October 1914 he issued the following
order to Souchon:
The entire fleet should manoeuvre in Black Sea. When you find
a favourable opportunity, attack the Russian fleet. Before initiating
hostilities, open my secret order personally given you this morning. To prevent
transport of material to Serbia, act as already agreed upon. Enver Pasha.
[Secret order] The Turkish fleet should gain mastery
of Black Sea by force. Seek out the Russian fleet and attack her wherever you
find her without declaration of war. Enver Pasha.
Two things should be noted in the above order: first, that
Souchon was directed to attack the Russian fleet and second, that the
Turkish fleet was to gain mastery of the Black Sea. Clearly, however, the
second task would have been beyond the means of the Turkish fleet without the
presence of Goeben and Breslau, while Souchon himself decided to
go a step further and attack the Russian mainland. Unless Djemal was a
consummate actor (always a possibility of course) the Pasha was reported to have
been furious when the news of Souchon’s attack was broken to him: he was
variously reported to have declared ‘That swine Admiral von Souchon has done
this’ and, ‘So be it, but if things go wrong, Souchon will be the first to be
hanged.’
The implication is clear: between them, Enver and Souchon ensured Turkey’s entry
into the war at the end of October 1914. The question remains, could Enver have
achieved the same result without the presence of Souchon’s squadron?
While it is not always productive to indulge
in counter-factual, or ‘what if’, scenarios it is difficult to see what options
would have been available to Enver if Souchon had not successfully escaped the
clutches of Admiral Milne. With recollections still fresh of its poor showing
against the Greek Navy in the Balkan Wars, the Turkish fleet, as it stood before
Goeben’s arrival, could not have hoped to sortie into the Black Sea with
any certain prospect of a successful encounter with the Russian Black Sea Fleet.
With this path closed Enver would presumably have pushed for a Turkish advance
upon the Suez Canal, yet with this option he faced the resolute objection of
General Liman von Sanders who strongly doubted the value of this operation. It
is reasonable to presume that Enver might have been placed in the position of
having to rely upon a Russian incursion through Persia as a pretext but, with
her hands full elsewhere, it is doubtful if the Russians would have been so
foolhardy. Otherwise he could have tried to force the Russians’ hands by closing
the Dardanelles. Yet, when first approached by von Usedom early in September
1914 with a request to close the Straits and complete the mine barrier, Enver at
first demurred as the result might be an Entente ultimatum which could lead to a
war that the Turks were then anxious to avoid until assured of Bulgaria and
Roumanian non-intervention. Even so, within a month, a new minefield was laid
and the Straits were closed — there was no ultimatum. Whether the Russians would
have continued to accept this state of affairs if war against Turkey had not
broken out in November is problematical; however, as pointed out above, they
were hard pressed in the north and could ill afford the opening of a new front.
If Enver could not have forced the issue in
the way he did, and Turkey thereby remained neutral, within a month the news
from all fronts would have been less than reassuring and certainly would have
emphasized the fact that there was little expectation of a quick German victory.
The Bulgarians, for example (also wooed by Germany), waited until October 1915
before deciding that prospects were then more encouraging — at which they
entered the lists on the side of the Central Powers. If Turkey had held out
until that time it could not be said with all certainty that they would have
joined the Bulgarians. With the memory of the Balkan Wars still undimmed and
Bulgaria now facing the Serbs might Turkey not have used this opportunity to
stab the Bulgarians in the back, in the way that, in the Second Balkan War of
1913, the Roumanians had so successfully done? Would much have changed if Turkey
had maintained her shaky neutrality into 1915? It is difficult to imagine that
the agonizing of the British Cabinet over the stalemate on the Western Front in
December 1914 would not still have taken place. New troops were becoming
available, including the Empire contingents, and there would still have been
anxious debate in London before they were dispatched, as Churchill complained,
to chew barbed wire in Flanders. In that case, presumably, Lloyd George’s
suggestion of an attack upon Austria would have been canvassed more thoroughly
though, as Hankey pointed out at the time, this presupposed either co-operation
with the Serbian army (which would be difficult without Greek entry into the
war) or a campaign through Montenegro, ‘and neither campaign would be easy to
carry out.’
Further, if the Dardanelles remained closed
even though Turkey continued her neutrality (and this was always a distinct
possibility), there would have been heavy pressure applied by the Allied Powers
to force a re-opening. At any time an ‘incident’ might have occurred off the
Straits. All these suppositions were rendered irrelevant by Souchon’s actions in
the Black Sea on 29 October 1914. Germany had supplied the means and on that
morning Souchon achieved the end. Souchon’s disregard for Enver’s orders
revealed fully who was in control at the Porte. Before then, in his last letter
from Constantinople on 8 September, Admiral Limpus had speculated that feeling
was running against the Germans: ‘It may be’, he informed Churchill,
that the Germans have gone too quickly. This is a people that
will not tolerate being driven beyond a certain point, though they made be led
almost anywhere. A revolt against the German domination may come at any moment.
The only question is — have the Germans got too firm a grip to be ousted.
Personally I think not. Patience, and events unfavourable to Germany, coupled
with resentment against German presumption, may yet cause the Turks to discuss
with Great Britain, or France, the means of ridding themselves of their present
masters. But I still think that any marked German success, or the sight of
Roumania joining the Germans, would determine the Turks to give way and join the
Germans too.
However, as Limpus admitted, the omens were not good: already
Djemal, ostensibly the Minister of Marine, was almost a ‘nonentity’ as the
Turkish Navy was ‘under the real control’ of Enver and the Germans. Despite
this, Limpus believed that ‘even without menaces, patience and the logic of
events will make it difficult for the Germans to persuade the Turks to make an
irretrievable false step.’
Where persuasion failed, Souchon acted. Without Goeben how different it
might have been.
Following the escape, various statements were subsequently
made, first in anticipation of the witchhunt that was bound to follow, then in
explanation or justification of British policy and Admiralty performance,
thereby creating a maze of tangled motives and apologia to be sifted through.
The simplest explanation, voiced soon afterward, was that the German ships had
escaped through a combination of Admiralty bungling and Foreign Office lassitude
compounded by the ineptitude of the commanders on the spot. Neither Churchill,
Grey nor Milne was, however, keen to be the scapegoat; of the three Churchill
was the best placed to deflect any criticism directed against himself. At the
Cabinet at which the British declaration of war against Turkey was debated, the
First Lord’s colleagues had decided that the catalogue of naval disasters since
the start of the war, including the escape of Goeben, was ‘not creditable
to the officers of the navy.’ The lamentable performance of Churchill’s
Admiralty was not questioned and the search was on for culprits — preferably as
far away from Churchill as possible.
Churchill’s enmity towards the Turks can be
explained by two actions both, coincidentally, initiated by him on 30 July 1914.
That afternoon the First Lord not only drafted the infamous ‘superior force’
telegram to Milne but also decided that the two Turkish dreadnoughts being built
in British yards should be embargoed. In the latter action, to be fair, it is
hard to see what other option was available to Churchill. He could have done
nothing — only to be then vilified as Sultan Osman, which was almost
complete, steamed out of the Tyne, not to the south but, as a result of Enver’s
suggestion, due west to a German port. Or, in the event that Enver’s offer of
the ship to the Germans was not whole-hearted, to see the ship steam out to
Constantinople with the ever present risk of a pre-emptive Greek strike and the
probable outbreak thereby of Turco-Greek hostilities just at the moment when the
adherence of the Greeks to the Entente was being so actively sought. How could
Venizelos have explained away the fact that Britain, the supposed protector of
Greece, had delivered up to their bitterest foe the most powerful fighting unit
in the eastern Mediterranean? Cynically, as all the attention was focused on
Sultan Osman which was in a more advanced state, perhaps the wisest course
might have been to have arranged for an ‘accident’ to befall the ship during her
trials which would seriously delay completion. As it was, the Turks turned the
pre-emption to their own advantage and it is not difficult to imagine the effect
upon the First Lord of witnessing cable after cable arriving from Constantinople
bearing witness to the anger generated by the seizure. It was just as well that
Churchill’s first instinct, to send Sultan Osman (now HMS Agincourt)
as the new flagship of the Mediterranean Squadron – which would have been a
crass error of judgment – was not acted upon.
There is no doubt that the Admiralty bungled
the chase of Goeben and Breslau. Churchill’s early instructions
were vague or contradictory; during the first part of the chase no information
useful to Milne was supplied by London; when Milne did, eventually, begin his
leisurely pursuit he was put off the track by the fiasco of the Austrian ‘war’
telegram; then, almost certainly because it was a weekend, it took the War Room
Staff close to 24 hours to realize that Milne had given up the chase before
ordering him back on the scent, but with no clue to offer except one provided by
Milne himself two days previously. With regard to Troubridge’s fateful decision
not to attempt the interception Churchill must have been aware before too long
that his ‘superior force’ telegram would come under close scrutiny and would, in
all probability, be claimed by Troubridge as the reason why he could not attack
the German ships. Yet a court martial of Troubridge might show the Admiralty,
and Churchill in particular, in a less than favourable light.
The fact that Churchill might have been
forced to accept a share of the blame also explains his hostility to Mallet
after the Ambassador had reported to the Foreign Office that ‘There is already
an impression that, by manner of detaining Turkish men-of-war, and by letting
the Goeben escape we are largely responsible for the present
difficulties’.
Churchill took this almost as a personal affront. In its simplest terms, by
October 1914 Churchill bore the Turks a heavy grudge and, as such, his action in
launching the fatuous premature naval bombardment at the Dardanelles on 3
November was no more than the reaction of a spoiled child striking out blindly
after being forced to face up to the consequences of its actions. Similarly,
Mallet’s intemperate outburst also could be ascribed to pique, as Souchon’s
arrival had made the Ambassador’s mission of attempting to keep Turkey neutral
that much more difficult if not – as, perhaps, he came to realize – impossible.
Clearly Mallet blamed the Admiralty for this unwarranted complication, but could
he have also meant that the ships had been allowed to escape as a matter of
policy?
In September 1914 the able Commander of the
German Naval Base (Etappenkommando) at the Porte, Hans Humann, picked up
a whisper from the Swedish Minister to the effect that, in an unguarded moment,
Mallet had confessed that Britain had conspired to let in Goeben and
Breslau ‘because she had a “lively interest” in not allowing the Straits to
fall into Russian hands.’
This theory was based upon the fact that the presence of the two modern ships
would forestall a Russian seaward descent upon Constantinople. Before making too
much of this it should, of course, be pointed out that this ‘excuse’
conveniently saved Mallet the embarrassment of having to admit that the ships
had escaped by virtue of superior German strategic awareness and British
bungling on a massive scale, all of which, additionally, occurred while Mallet
was away from his post on leave in the belief that nothing would happen on the
international scene. On the other hand, it is not difficult to find other
references, all implying that the escape was not a blunder but a deliberate act
of policy. On 10 August – the day Souchon finally reached the Dardanelles – a
discussion took place in the Quai d’Orsay between Ponceau and the Russian
Ambassador Isvolsky at which mention was made of Turkish fears concerning
Russian designs on the Straits. In that case, Ponceau mused, ‘it might be
advantageous for us to draw Turkey to the number of our enemies in order to make
an end of her.’ The plan thus envisaged was that the presence of the German
ships would give the Turks no option other than to join the Central Powers so
that, when eventually defeated, there would be, as Doumerge confirmed, ‘nothing
to prevent us in the liquidation of the war, in settling the question of the
Straits conforming to our views.’
Whatever the French might have said to Isvolsky, these views might not
necessarily have encompassed a Russian occupation of Constantinople.
The assiduous wooing of Greece similarly led
to the belief that the British desired to put the Greeks in Constantinople for
the sole purpose of keeping the Russians out.
The general conviction amongst the British naval forces in the Mediterranean at
the time was epitomized by Lieutenant Parry who recorded:
The skipper…heard from Major Findlay, the Governor of Malta’s
A.D.C., today [9 October]; & he said that our Government was all out to avoid
war with Turkey, unless their hands are forced. If we do declare war on Turkey
we shall have to throw the Turk out of Europe, Russia will then step in & demand
what she has longed for for years, i.e. Constant[inople], & the Bosphorus &
Dardanelles & this is what we have been trying to prevent during the last 100
years. Although the Russian steamroller is most useful for crashing into Germany
& Austria, we are just as suspicious of them as ever; & so its to our own
interest to keep the poor old ‘sick man’ of the Crimean War in his little but
most important corner of Europe. I entirely believe this last story; and the
idea about Mark Kerr is by no means unlikely too.
Admiral Kerr’s involvement, and the possibility of his
leading a Greek force to capture the Gallipoli Peninsula (as proposed by
Churchill) was, then, an open secret.
The theory that the escape of the German
ships was deliberate is not new: it was broached, for example, in 1957 by W. W.
Gottlieb in his Studies in Secret Diplomacy during the First World War.
Gottlieb argued that fundamental British and French opposition to seeing the
Russians in Constantinople explained why Goeben and Breslau were
‘allowed to reach’ the Golden Horn, there to augment Turkish arms.
This hypothesis was investigated again in 1971 by Ulrich Trumpener in his
article The Escape of Goeben and Breslau: A Reassessment. Although
Trumpener could find no evidence to support this conclusion he stated ‘it is now
beyond doubt that the Greek Government played an important (and highly
ambivalent) role in the entire affair.’
As the evidence produced herein indicates, if there were a conspiracy afoot to
see the German ships in Constantinople it originated not in London or Paris, but
in Athens.
The British Foreign Office was fatally misled on the
political situation in Constantinople by the over-optimistic reports of Mallet
who believed, on the basis of his own powers of personal persuasion if little
else, that at best he could swing Turkey over to the allied side and, at worst,
he could guarantee neutrality. Despite this, the theory that the escape was
engineered to bolster Turkish defences, or even assure that she sided with
Germany – in which case the country could be dismembered (something, after all,
one could not do to an ally) – ignores the comments of Asquith and the actions
of Grey. The Foreign Secretary was eager to maintain Turkish neutrality for as
long as possible to avoid upsetting Muslim feeling in India and Egypt; he made
his position on this known to the French and Russians as early as 15 August.
The Russians were also separately informed on 13 August that, should Turkey
accrue Russian territory as a result of a successful attack, the position would
be rectified in the terms of peace. Indeed, during that week a series of
assurances and warnings were given regarding Turkish territorial integrity of
which it has been said that ‘These statements may not have amounted to a clear
promise to deliver Constantinople and the Straits to Russia in the event of a
Russo-Turkish war, but they went a long way towards it.’
Grey, however, was somewhat ahead of Sazonov;
late in September the Russian Foreign Minister, more concerned with carving out
a slice of Germany and Austria-Hungary, was still talking about allowing the
Turks to remain in Constantinople. Sazonov would have been content with free
passage of the Straits for all time, subject to certain conditions: no forts
being permitted on the shores of the Dardanelles; an international commission to
police the Dardanelles and Sea of Marmora with its own naval forces; and a
Russian coaling station at the entrance to the Bosphorus.
These were, though, Sazonov’s personal thoughts and did not necessarily reflect
the prevailing mood in Petrograd where Ambassador Buchanan had reported a few
days previously that ‘Opinion seems to be gaining ground that it can only be at
the expense of Turkey that Russia can obtain any material as the result of the
war, for it is not regarded as adding to her strength that she should acquire
territory on her western frontier…M Sazonof’s references to the Dardanelles
question in his conversations with me have been merely academic, but they left
the impression that the Russians will insist on settling this question once and
for all, though they will not raise the question of the status of
Constantinople.’
No sooner had Sazonov’s desiderata been announced than the Turkish closure of
the Straits following the incident of 26 September, when a Turkish torpedo boat
was turned back into the Straits by the patrolling British squadron, put the
fate of Constantinople firmly back on the agenda.
Sazonov had already outlined Russia’s
preliminary war aims, which consisted of the partition of the German colonies,
with a share for Britain, France and Japan; the break-up of the Hapsburg Empire
with Russia, Roumania, Serbia and Italy sharing the spoils; a redistribution in
the Balkans; and, for France and Russia, large chunks of Germany. These aims had
limited appeal in London and depended for their realization on the military
defeat of the Central Powers, a situation which would become more complex with
the entry of Turkey into the war as this threatened to impinge directly upon
British interests.
To attempt to reconcile the conflicting interests of the Entente Powers as the
situation in the Ottoman Empire deteriorated British eyes turned to
Constantinople. Asquith had written on 31 October that ‘Few things would give me
greater pleasure than to see the Turkish Empire finally disappear from Europe, &
Constantinople either become Russian (which I think is its proper destiny) or if
that is impossible neutralised and made a free port.’
If Britain did have a genuine sphere of
interest, which it wanted maintained at all costs, it was in Southern Persia and
Mesopotamia: to guarantee this Grey was prepared to sacrifice Constantinople.
The Russian plans to attack Turkey through Persia caused immediate alarm when
they became known in Whitehall. The day after the British declaration of war
against Turkey in November 1914 the Russian Ambassador in London was notified by
Sazonov that the launching of his country’s offensive would, of necessity,
violate Persian neutrality. Grey was concerned on two fronts: the threat of
Muslim agitation, and the possibility that the offensive might spread to include
British political and oil interests in Mesopotamia. The Foreign Secretary took
the initiative on 9 November in suggesting to Sazonov, through Ambassador
Benckendorff, that, with the defeat of Germany, the fate of Constantinople and
the Straits could not but be decided other than in conformity to Russia’s
interests.
No less a personage than the King then entered the fray by informing
Benckendorff on 13 November that, ‘In regard to Constantinople, it is clear that
it must be yours.’ The following day Grey confirmed his message to the Russians
with, however, one important rider: while the conduct of the Turkish Government
would ‘render inevitable the complete solution of the Turkish problem, including
the question of the Straits and Constantinople, in agreement with Russia’ this
solution could only come after the defeat of Germany and ‘independently
of a prior breakup of the Turkish state, which is possible as a result of march
of military operations.’
But just such a ‘march of military operations’ was already under way, as the
Foreign Secretary well knew — planning for the dispatch of the Indian
Expeditionary Force had begun in September.
On 26 September the Military Secretary of the
India Office had warned Lord Crewe that war with Turkey might eventuate in ‘a
few weeks or even days’ but that this was not, in itself, a great concern unless
the Turks enlisted the support of the Arabs. ‘In that case’, argued Sir Edmund
Barrow, ‘they will probably proclaim a Jehad and endeavour to raise Afghanistan
and the Frontier tribes against us, which might be a serious danger to India and
would most certainly add enormously to our difficulties and responsibilities.’
Barrow suggested sending a signal to the Arabs ‘before war breaks out or
it may be too late’ and proposed that the best way to achieve this was ‘to send
a force from India to the Shatt-el-Arab at once…On arrival the troops can
be landed on Persian soil at Muhammerah or at Abadan Island, ostensibly to
protect the oil installations, but in reality to notify the Turks that we meant
business and to the Arabs that we were ready to support them…If war breaks out
it will be necessary to occupy Basra at once’.
Crewe issued the necessary orders on 3 October and the expeditionary force
sailed from Bombay and Karachi on 16/17 October to Bahrein, there to await
further developments. This last-minute timidity resulted from the Viceroy’s
misgivings that Britain should not be seen as the aggressor; the Turks had to
strike the first blow even if this gave them the opportunity to attack the
undefended oil installations.
Orders to advance were issued on 30 October, then retracted following renewed
hesitation, only to be re-issued on 2 November; landings took place some days
later and, within weeks, the key strategic town of Basra had been taken.
In his talks with the Russians, Grey had been speaking from a position of
strength.
The Straits and Constantinople had become a suitable bait to
lure Russia away from interfering in Persia, with the additional bonus of giving
the Russians something worthwhile to fight for. This consideration was
particularly important to Grey following disturbing rumours from Buchanan that a
section of the Russian Foreign Ministry was seeking a negotiated peace with
Germany.
Sazonov had his own private ideas as to what Russia could hope for at the end of
the war — even if his dreams of acquiring further Polish-speaking territory lay
as shattered as the Russian armies in the field. Souchon’s violent manoeuvre on
29 October changed that. ‘Turkish action’, Buchanan reported Sazonov as saying
that day, ‘would unroll the whole Eastern question and entail final settlement
of question of Straits. For this reason war is likely to be welcomed by large
section of Russian public, who were afraid that Russia would gain no solid
advantages from the war with Austria and Germany.’
Grey had neglected to inform the French of
his November promise to the Russians, an omission Sazonov was keen to rectify to
add further legitimacy to the pledge. Acting under instructions, Ambassador
Bertie saw Delcassé, the French Foreign Minister, on 21 November to give him
Grey’s reasons for communicating with Sazonov on the subject without prior
consultation with the French Government. Delcassé also received Grey’s
assurances, which he considered ‘satisfactory’, that Grey had ‘no wish to
precipitate decisions to secure special advantages for England during the war’,
and that he recognized, ‘that all definitive changes must be subject to
agreement between the Allies when peace is made.’ For what it was worth,
Delcassé was of the opinion that Russia did not desire possession of
Constantinople, but only free passage in and out of the Black Sea, however:
If Russia claimed special privileges for the passage of the
Straits such advantages will naturally be claimed by the other Riverains of the
Black Sea, Roumania and Bulgaria and could not with justice be denied to them.
Unless all the Powers be put on an equality in regard to the Straits, Russia in
the possible event later on of differences between herself and the Mediterranean
Powers Greece, Italy, France, Spain and England, will have the enormous
advantage of being able to send ships of war into the Mediterranean to prey on
her adversaries commerce with the Dardanelles as a safe harbour of refuge and as
a base as has been the case for Germany with her ships Goeben and
Breslau.
The French uneasiness about Russian aims did not faze the
Foreign Secretary and he was not overly keen to support Churchill’s proposals
when the question of action against Turkey was further debated on 25 November at
what became the first meeting of the ‘War Council’ following Asquith’s desire to
have ‘a small conclave on the Naval and Military situation.’
At this meeting Churchill suggested that the
defence of Egypt should begin at the Gallipoli Peninsula. An attack there, he
argued, if successful, ‘would give us control of the Dardanelles, and we could
dictate terms at Constantinople.’ This was, he admitted (perhaps remembering
Callwell’s strictures), ‘a very difficult operation requiring a large force’
and, if found to be impracticable, a feint at Gallipoli should be considered to
mask an attack on the Syrian coast. Kitchener was cool towards these ideas but
when Churchill suggested that, in any case, transports should be collected as an
initial measure, Grey promptly sided with Kitchener. There was already a large
shortage of tonnage for mercantile purposes, Grey pointed out, and it was not
expedient to aggravate this; what he did not mention was the apprehension which
a British assault on the Dardanelles would cause in Petrograd. Lord Fisher, now
in full swing again, sought to avoid the shipping problem by asking whether
Greece could not perhaps undertake an attack against Gallipoli on behalf of the
allies — which meant that either Churchill had not briefed the old Admiral fully
on the discouraging reply received from Athens when Churchill first sought
assistance from that source, or else Fisher believed it was worth another try.
But Greek aspirations towards Constantinople were even more unsettling to the
Russians, and Grey was quick to sidestep the question, explaining
that there was not much hope that Greece or Roumania could
co-operate effectively with the Allies unless they were assured that Bulgaria
would remain neutral. None of the Balkan States trusted the Bulgarian
declaration of neutrality, nor would they feel satisfied in taking action unless
Bulgaria was actually committed to hostilities with Turkey. Bulgaria desired
certain portions of Macedonia and Thrace, of which she considered that Greece
and Serbia had unjustly deprived her after the war between the Balkan States and
Turkey. The attitude of Serbia and Greece held out no hopes of an accommodation
between the several Balkan States. In these circumstances [I do] not think we
ought to count on the co-operation of Greece.
Grey’s actions, therefore, which included his
pledge to Sazonov and his coolness towards Greek participation, combined with
his constant anxiety regarding Muslim disturbances and the paramountcy of
British interests in Southern Persia and Mesopotamia all point towards the
supposition that the Foreign Office was not involved in a conspiracy to allow
the German ships to escape. The last thing Grey wanted was a scramble amongst
the Powers to partition the Ottoman Empire following its collapse; for this
reason he would have been loathe to adopt the cynical French strategy of
actively seeking to throw Turkey into the arms of the Triple Alliance to be
able, then, to do away with her after the hoped-for Entente victory.
Furthermore, if the presence of the German ships in the Bosphorus diverted
Russian attention away from Constantinople the most probable result was likely
to have been a Russian strike at Turkey through Persia which was to be avoided
at all costs. If, then, the Foreign Office is generally exonerated of everything
but bungling (and in particular by the failure to pass on information), what of
the Admiralty?

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