On the
afternoon of May 7, 1915 the British liner Lusitania
was torpedoed by the Imperial German submarine U-20 and sank in eighteen minutes with the loss of 1,201 lives (including
128 American citizens). This was the
largest loss of life at sea during wartime to-date and prompted a public relations
coup for Great Britain and a disaster for Imperial Germany. This much was certain. But almost immediately, troubling questions
were posed: Why did such a large and well-built ship sink in 18 minutes? Did the Germans plan to “get” the Lusitania? Why did the British Admiralty allow the ship
to sail unprotected or unadvised through a dangerous war zone? Was the ship adequately warned of the danger? What was the nature of her cargo? What caused the second explosion survivors
described? Was she armed? Who was to blame for the disaster? For decades these questions beg for answers.
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| 1:350 Plastic Model Kit built November 2014-May 2015. |
Since she disappeared beneath the
waves, writers have sought to find blame for this tragedy (and each has their
own axe to grind). Some followed
conventional wisdom and charge Captain Turner. On his shoulders rests the
safety of passengers, crew, and cargo and the Captain must ensure that
everything is done to ensure safe passage.
If something goes wrong, he must respond to the problem, rectify it, and
answer for his action (or inaction).
What if that something is beyond the control of the Captain? There are many challenges on the oceans: freak storms, rogue waves, fog, and icebergs,
to name but a few. In 1915, there was a
new danger: the submarine’s torpedo.
Captain William Turner and his ship encountered this new danger with terrible
consequences. Others echoed the official enquiries (Lord
Mersey in London and Judge Mayer in New York) and blame Imperial Germany. More perceptive researchers peered through
the fog of war and place a guilty verdict on the British Admiralty (for
inaction). Some writers found
conspiracies, others simply a snowball effect of blunders. There are many mysteries: supposed spies caught on board in New York,
anonymous telegrams warning prominent passengers not to sail, and most
ominously, the publication by “The Imperial Germany Embassy” of a warning to
travelers in New York area newspapers on the day of departure.
In 2015, we find a handful of new
books about Lusitania. From Eric Sauder, The Unseen Lusitania and J. Kent Layton, Lusitania: An Illustrated
Biography. These books are lavishly illustrated with rare or less frequently
published photographs and each present a general biography of the ship from inspired
design to untimely destruction. Eric Larson’s Dead Wake: The Last Crossing of
the Lusitania and Greg King and Penny Wilson’s Lusitania: Triumph, Tragedy, and the End of the Edwardian Age are
the latest works to revisit the sinking. Both of these new books were released
in the months prior to the centennial of the disaster specifically retell the
story of the fateful voyage. Both books
utilize a wealth of archival documents, official reports, and published
accounts to bring the past to life on the page and bring the Lusitania story into the public
consciousness again.
Eric Larson gained fame with his
account of H.H. Holmes murderous deeds amidst the spectacle of the World’s
Columbian Exposition. In Devil in the White City, Larson blends
different narrative strands together and vividly recaptures 1890s Chicago. In Dead
Wake, Larson’s narrative skill guides the reader to scenes acted out in different
places: New York, Berlin, Washington, London, and Queenstown. Through Larson’s telling we are able to be
onboard Lusitania and U-20 as each vessel undertakes their
voyages. Readers get to know the
passengers and crews, the politicians and Admirals involved in the incident and
see events through their eyes. We learn
their private struggles and reasons for traveling on this voyage. Readers find themselves with Walther
Schwieger and the crew of the U-20 and wonder why anyone wanted to serve in the
stinky, cramped, and dangerous submarines of the era. We get to know the statesmen and leaders,
among them: First Lord of the Admiralty
Winston Churchill (off to France to discuss Italy’s entry into the war), First
Sea Lord Jackie Fisher, Captain Hall of Room 40 (top-secret intelligence), and
of course President Woodrow Wilson (who is lovelorn).
Greg King and Penny Wilson focus on
the Lusitania’s passengers, particularly
those travelling First (Cabin) Class.
They do so because many of the passengers wrote memoirs of the event,
and as prominent persons, the contours of their lives are better known. The result of this approach is to render
parts of the book a “Downton Abby at sea”
but without the downstairs drama. The
intertwined biographies do provide an intimate glimpse of late Edwardian society
(and a cast of quirky characters) but this approach renders the narrative and
analysis of the sinking to a less important place in the book. As such, there is little in the biographies
and anecdotes that add something new to the Lusitania
story.
This point holds for Larson too,
but many of the stories about passengers are repeated—in some cases nearly
verbatim—as in previous books. We meet,
again and again, Theodate Pope, Charles Lauriat, Elbert Hubbard, Charles
Frohman, and Alfred Vanderbilt. One often
repeated vignette is sailor Leslie Morton’s recollection of painting lifeboats
during the voyage. Every author delights
in the fact the paint color was called “crab fat.” Morton was subsequently interrupted by the
Allan children who crawled beside him and commandeered his paintbrush. The girls wound up covered in paint and
Morton fled the scene to avoid reprimand.
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| Diorama scene: It is early morning after a rain. Passengers take a stroll and deck crews carry out maintenance tasks. |
Which brings this reviewer to the
larger historiographical point. Neither
Larson, nor King and Wilson, offer new evidence, analysis, or arguments about
the incident. Larson endows the story
with his narrative skills and does give an exciting story an extra tinge of
suspense. The quick cuts between
locations do much toward punching up the narrative. King and Wilson bring the notion that the
sinking of the Lusitania combined
with the first technologically modern war marked the sudden end of an age of
innocence (I would add faith progress). They
claim, rightfully so, that 1915 is a better marker of change than the sinking
of Titanic in 1912. Yet, they go about, rather unfairly,
comparing the two disasters. Whilst
perhaps both voyages were buoyed by arrogance the circumstances of the
disasters are too dissimilar to compare (for one, act of war versus act of
nature). What is clear is that the loss
of Lusitania, in addition to (but not
exclusively) the escalation of the first technologically modern war (tanks,
machine guns, poison gas, aerial bombardment, war on civilians, to name but a
few) altered people’s outlook and the Euro-American culture that emerged after
the war was different than what came before.
Both books thankfully steer well
clear of conspiracy theories and the ridiculous fictions that emerged since
1915. For instance, journalist John P.
Jones, in a 1917 treatise, The German Spy
in America, described the German plot that led the ship to destruction. According to this bizarre account, Captain Turner,
when approaching the Irish coast, wired the Admiralty for instructions as to
what course to take. The German agents at the Sayville wireless stations in
Long Island intercepted this coded message.
Under orders from Berlin, they replied with a wireless message in the
British code. They directed Turner to
steam away from his planning meeting with a nonexistent convoy, into the area
near the Old Head of Kinsale, where two German submarines were waiting for him.
At this point, Jones's inventiveness fails
him and the inside details of how the substitution was affected can only be
surmised. This fantasy would probably not
be worth mentioning if it were not for the fact that even at this early date an
author was passing fiction off as fact.
The first well-researched account
of the disaster was The Last Voyage of
the Lusitania (1956) by A.A. and Mary Hoehling. In a narrative reminiscent
of Walter Lord’s A Night to Remember,
we are guided through the journey through the eyes of the passengers and
crew. Writing in the 1950s, the
Hoehlings had the benefit of adult survivors to interview and correspond with
and the result is a documentary-style work that places the stories of people
over historical background and forensic analysis.
American diver John Light made a
series of dives to the wreck in the 1960s.
Pushing the limits of diving technology and without sophisticated camera and lighting systems, Light’s brief excursions offered tantalizing glimpses of the ship and the
physical evidence of the disaster. He
was mistaken with many underwater observations, but his work on shore was much
more solid. He shared his archival
discoveries with journalist Colin Simpson.
When the two had a falling out, Simpson went ahead with his work and
published The Lusitania in 1972. Simpson’s book was the most sensational writing
since Jones. While seemingly well
documented, much of his evidence was misinterpreted or worse—fabricated. He
proposes a complex—and contradictory—two-part theory that the Lusitania was deliberately placed in
harms way by the Admiralty (with the intent of angering Americans over the loss
of American lives) and also shipping hidden high explosives among other
“desperately needed” war supplies (as the Germans claimed) that blew up and
sank the ship.
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| Sailing away. |
In direct response, historians Thomas
Bailey and Paul Ryan, published The
Lusitania Disaster: An Episode in Modern
Warfare and Diplomacy (1975). They
refute Simpson, point by point, and show where is evidence is fabricated and
analysis faulty (the origins and purpose of the German warning in the
newspaper, alleged guns installed on board, infiltrating German spies, and
secret shipments of high explosives. They
conclude that rather than a conspiratorial plot, “More crucial as the problem
of determining who, connect with Lusitania, was most responsible for getting
the liner sunk…. The Mersey inquiry completely cleared Turner even though it
was an ill concealed effort by the Admiralty to find a sacrificial goat. We
should remember that Lusitania at all times of subject any change in this
routing that the officers in the Admiralty chose to make.” They do the best job explaining the
complexities of international politics, maritime law, and naval strategy during
the first years of WWI. No other author
has discussed this context for the sinking as thoroughly or as well. Since then Simpson’s claims have largely lost
their credence expect for the nature of the cargo. The work of Mitch Peeke, Kevin Walsh-Johnson
and Steven Jones agree with Simpson that the Lusitania contained altered cargo spaces with room for storing gun
cotton, improperly packed incomplete shell fuses, and disguised foodstuffs
(butter, lard, oysters) that were unrefrigerated and therefore not what they
claimed to be.
It is clear that the Admiralty
would not deliberately sink a vessel upon which they held a substantial lien. Furthermore, as the fortunes of war shifted, Lusitania may be required for government
service as a troopship or hospital ship as Mauretania and Aquitania were. Why destroy it? Conspiracy theorists have no explanation for
this simple, but important question. Why
would Americans be angry about the loss of a British ship to go to war? The fact that the Wilson government was slow
to react to the Gulflight and Falaba incidents that cost American life
and property points against such a notion.
The premise of Wilson’s weak (legally speaking) response to the Lusitania tragedy and subsequent
sinkings of neutral and American ships was that as neutrals, U.S. citizens were
entitled to safe passage on the sea, regardless of the flag the vessel flew. The
simple fact is, as Bailey and Ryan clearly argue, is that a British ship, with
a British flag was a belligerent vessel whether a merchant ship or not, whether
carrying neutral persons or not. Simply
put, there was no conspiracy to sink the ship to bring Americans into the war.
Perhaps Bailey
and Ryan’s 1975 publication was too technical and academic for the average
reader because several more books were released in the 1980s, perhaps
coincidentally, with George Bemis’s ownership and salvage of artifacts from the
wreck. Des Hickey and Gus Smith’s Seven Days to Disaster (1982) is nearly
as inventive as Simpson’s book. Filled
with inaccuracies and fabrications such as: “Julia Sullivan enjoyed the
swimming pool.” There was no swimming pool on the ship! Or the account of a fireman: “In No. 1 boiler room, below the first
funnel, leading fireman Albert Martin had seen the torpedo slam past him before
it exploded between a group of boilers…. The shell between the forward and
centre coal bunker doors on the starboard side burst like paper as the sea
water flooded in.” Certainly such a dramatic account of a
witness would be an important piece of evidence to be noted in other works. The authors offer a very brief bibliography
and unlike Simpson do not even attempt to cite the source of their fictions.
The most
thorough forensic evaluation of the wreck came in 1993 under the direction of
Robert Ballard. Employing some of the
same technology used on his expeditions to Titanic
and Bismarck, Ballard brought the
first clear images of the ship and put a few questions to rest. Lusitania
rests on her starboard side—the side of the torpedo impact—so the actual
damage cannot be ascertained. But what
he did find was that the port side of the ship is intact, as is the forward
sections above the cargo holds as well as the bow section forward. This means that both explosions were
contained to the starboard side and explains the asymmetrical flooding hat sank
the ship. He also confirmed there were
no naval guns mounted to the ship, conclusively proving she was unarmed at the
time of her sinking. Ballard was unable
to conclusively determine the cause of the second explosion and his hypothesis
was that a coal dust explosion was the result of the jolt and fire from the
torpedo strike. According to Ballard’s
book and documentary, because Lusitania was
nearing the end of her voyage, her coal bunkers were largely empty and full of
fine powdery residue. When this residue
is disturbed, it mixes with the air and forms an explosive combination. The torpedo struck near (or in) one of these
bunkers and this caused the second explosion.
A “trail of coal” away from the wreckage was a key piece of evidence for
Ballard.
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| The base is made from a painter's block covered with acrylic medium and paint. |
The coal
dust explosion theory is weak (Ballard admits this as well) and subsequent
experts sought to disprove it. Diver and
amateur scientist Patrick O’Sullivan concluded that the cause of the second
explosion was an explosion of fine aluminum powder, which was shipped in
quantity, and stored in the lower section of the hold, near the bulkhead between
the No.1 boiler room’s coal bunker and the cargo holds. Like coal dust, when disturbed, aluminum
powder mixed with gasses in the air is explosive. He carried out laboratory tests to determine
the explosive nature of the substance. O’Sullivan contends that the conditions have to be precise (fineness of the powder, amount
of agitation, and concentration) to be explosive. The explosion of this cargo was extraordinary
and devastating to the ship.
At the turn
of this century, new analyses appeared by David Ramsay (2002), and Diana
Preston (2002). These works, Preston’s
in particular, offer readers the most compelling and scholarly accounts of the
disaster. Both authors reexamine primary
and secondary accounts of the disaster and conclude that the cause of the
secondary explosion was catastrophic failure of the steam system. In this scenario, the torpedo struck near the
bulkhead of Boiler Room No.1 and the combination of the force of impact and the
exploding warhead damaged the steam line, compromised the bulkhead (therefore
the watertight door could not close), and likely also caused the hot boilers to
fail from thermal shock as cold sea water flooded in. The engineering staff had no time to release
the steam from the system and the lines burst under pressure. This scenario squares with reports of
survivors of other sinkings during the war.
It also explains why the
steering and engine controls failed immediately after the explosion and the electric
power failed not long after.
In this
regard there is a consensus that the main steam line fracture was the cause of
the second explosion and resulted in the rapid sinking of the vessel. Larson and King and Wilson join this group,
but with one qualification. King and
Wilson speculate, but completely unproved; that it was possible U-20 fired a
second torpedo. Some survivors claimed
to have seen two torpedoes headed for the ship. Circumstantial evidence from submarine war
diaries (including U-20) point to he fact that more than one torpedo was often
needed to sink merchant ships much smaller than Lusitania. If something
internal did not explode, why not a second torpedo? While an intriguing possibility there is more
evidence to disprove it than to substantiate this claim. First, the survivors accounts of a second
torpedo are inconsistent, including several claims of a torpedo strike amidships
or even near the stern. This is
impossible because she clearly sank by the bow, indicating damage to one
area. Second, these recollections of two
torpedoes are suspect because in the hysteria of war and hatred of Imperial
Germany, two torpedoes make a greater villain (certainly more than exploding
ammunition!). Which is one reason why
the official inquiries blamed “torpedoes” for the sinking. Third, U-20’s war diary (despite many
problems with possible alterations after the fact) clearly notes that a single
torpedo was fired. Finally, Schwieger
radioed his superiors whilst on his return from patrol. This message summarized his activities and
was sent while he was unaware of the
political and public relations storm brewing.
This message was intercepted and decoded by the British Admiralty and
clearly stated that U-20 sank Lusitania with a single torpedo and that
he saved his final torpedo for the return voyage, as ordered.
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| Lusitania has very graceful lines. |
As we have seen, since the 1990s
researchers revealed answers to many troubling questions surrounding the
sinking. Was Lusitania armed? No. Was she carrying munitions and war
supplies? Yes. Bailey and Ryan show how the notions of contraband
changed during the course of the war. By
1919, virtually everything shipped would be contraband. But in 1915, the foodstuffs were not. The rifle ammunition was legal to transport,
at least according to US law (and could be argued was for hunting rifles), but
there were materials to be used for the war effort. However, it is seemingly clear that none of
these materials exploded. Was there a
plot by the Germans to “get” the Lusitania?
No. Did the U-20 fire more than one torpedo?
No. Was there a conspiracy by the British Admiralty to place her in
harm’s way with the intent to “embroil” the United States into the war on the
British side? No. So, who was to blame for this tragedy?
The obvious answer is perhaps
Walther Schwieger. As commander of U-20 it was his decision to attack the Lusitania.
Some writers claim he knew from the start what ship he torpedoed
while others say he did not know the identity of the ship until after the attack. The edited nature of the war diary is part of
the basis for this confusion. It is
reasonable to conclude that he did know Lusitania’s
identity because he was well aware of the ship’s published sailing schedule. While it is unlikely he was specifically
sent—even by verbal orders at the last minute—to hunt the Lusitania, he knew of the
potential war use of the ship, and the likelihood that she was carrying war
supplies. He may or may not have known
she was unarmed (probably believed she was armed) and he may or may not have
known that British captains were instructed to ram submarines on sight (he
probably did). He placed the safety of
his crew above all and would not risk his ship by attempting to stop or warn
the ships he attacked (his record proves this). For U-20,
the encounter with Lusitania was
sheer luck and nothing more. She was supposed
to be patrolling closer to Liverpool, but delayed by fog. She was preparing for the return voyage to
base when the Cunarder was sighted. With
hindsight it is easy to cast moral judgment upon Schwieger for sinking the ship
without warning or even attacking an unarmed passenger vessel at all. But if we place ourselves in the moment of a
rapidly changing technological war and dueling “blockades” each attempting to
starve the other out of the war, we can understand why he would attack and feel
justified to do so.
What about Captain Turner? Since 1915, Turner has been the on-and-off
scapegoat for the disaster. While he
certainly was no agent or dupe of the Germans, he was not the ablest commander
under the circumstances. He was, by all
accounts “an old sea dog” with good instincts for seamanship and navigation,
but he commanded a less than ideal crew. With
the best people serving in the armed forces, he had to make do with less
experienced men and women. This meant
inconsistency carrying out vital duties such as lifeboat drills, closing
portholes when entering the war zone, and in the moment of crises, helping save lives. Confronted with seemingly contradictory directives from the
Admiralty, he at best confused him and at worst ignored him. Some researchers conclude he blundered into
the disaster while others find him capable but simply overwhelmed with
circumstances beyond his control. He did
attempt to follow many of the directives, but he did not personally ensure his
orders were carried out. His insistence
upon slowing down for a four point bearing, a common practice in peacetime,
does seem very unwise. There were other
methods of confirming his position that would not have required slowing down or
altering course. Here his “old school
“precision got the better of him. At the
same time, the coded wireless messages from the Admiralty regarding navigation
and submarine activity could have been more precise (for instance, the
submarine sightings were outdated).
There is also confusion (then and now) as to whether or not Turner
expected—or should have expected—a destroyer escort. Current interpretation of the evidence
suggests he did not expect one nor should he have (despite telling passengers,
as a way to calm them, that an escort would be provided). Turner had faith in
his ship’s speed and sound construction.
He did not really believe, as did many of his passengers, that the
Germans would actually attack her. He
was safe in this confidence. With hindsight, we learn that the reality
with Turner is somewhere in between and a more flexible leader (Arthur Rostron
perhaps?) may have mitigated the disaster.
The
Admiralty, as many authors point out, bears some responsibility here. So does the Cunard Line. Running the ship at a reduced speed with
hindsight seems very unwise, but at the time was as sound economic move. But perhaps carrying passengers in wartime,
through a war zone, was a larger mistake.
Certainly, with hindsight, we realize the US government should have
prevented, or at least strongly discouraged, its citizens from travelling on
belligerent vessels (as was done during WWII). Again, they did not anticipate
such a sinking to actually occur. It was
beyond their worldview. The Admiralty,
rightly concerned about secrecy, kept the decoded messages to themselves. But it is clear from Preston, Larson, and
other writers, that its leadership (Churchill, Fisher) was distracted by the
Dardanelles and other campaigns of the war and less concerned about the war
zone close to home. The personalities in
charge were too egocentric to delegate and too ready to micromanage otherwise competent
staff. Subordinate officers were
reluctant and unwilling to take initiative or seek permission to act. It seems all of the intelligence relevant to
the U-20’s patrol and strategies to protect or divert the Lusitania were lost in the mud of bureaucracy. The poorly managed Admiralty was overreached
and cumbersome. It is little wonder that
the senior staff was reorganized after the Lusitania
tragedy.
The
enduring fascination with this disaster is the fact that the fog of war
surrounds it. Every party involved had
something to gain by distorting facts, destroying evidence, or lying to the
public. The British had ample reason to
hide the possibility of exploding cargo by hiding behind multiple torpedo
explosions. The Germans looked better if
the Lusitania sank because munitions
exploded and brought to light the fact that the British were attempting to use
passengers—neutral or otherwise—to hide contraband. American authorities looked best if they had
no knowledge of any suspicious cargo or persons aboard so as not to seem
culpable of putting passengers at risk.
Hence reports are conflicting, documents missing or altered, and all
documentation tinged with the jingoism of the war.
To Larson, Preston, Ramsay and myself, it seems the
loss of the Lusitania is akin to Murder on the Orient Express. Everyone did it. That is to say—all of the actors: Captain Turner, Walther Schwieger, Imperial
Germany, the Cunard Line, the Admiralty (Churchill, Fisher, Coke, Hall), and
the Wilson government had a part to play in the disaster. If any one actor had made a different
decision, the outcome may have been different.
Contingency and bad luck ruled the day.
If Turner had better
instructions, if the Admiralty acted decisively, if Schwieger did not
attack—the Lusitania would have
arrived safely. Alas, she was a victim
of circumstances that all involved unwittingly created with tragic results.
Mitch Peeke, Kevin Walsh-Johnson and Steven Jones. The
Lusitania Story. (Annapolis, Maryland: Naval Institute Press, 2002),
99-100.
