Cold Open

It’s June 21st, 1919, at Scapa Flow, a coastal inlet off the Scottish island of Orkney, seven months after an armistice brought the First World War to an end. 

Naval officer Hans Hesse strides purposely across the main deck of a German dreadnought. He grips the iron railing and peers out across the water, one hand shielding his eyes from the bright mid-morning sun.

Ranged across the bay are 74 hulking battleships, the pride of the German Imperial Navy. It’s an impressive spectacle, but this is no display of military strength. These ships are being held hostage; their guns have been disabled, their ensigns have been lowered, and what once were hundreds of soldiers aboard, have been reduced to a skeleton crew. The sight of them now, floating like driftwood in the bay, makes Hans burn with indignation.

Following Germany’s defeat in the war, what remained of its navy was forced to surrender to the British. The vessels were impounded off the coast of Scotland, where they are to remain until the peace negotiations have concluded, and a decision over the ships’ fate has been reached. In the meantime, Hans and his fellow sailors must remain on board, looking after the fleet until the time comes to hand them over to the British. But the Germans have come up with a plan to stop that from happening. With his heart rate quickening, Hans looks over to the flagship of this fleet, the SMS Emden. There, the Emden’s signalman is on deck. Making a series of movements with a pair of semaphore flags, it’s Hans’s cue to start sinking his ship.

Hans swivels around and barks a command at his shipmates. 

Immediately, sailors spring into action.

Hans races to a nearby door and descends below deck.

As he scampers through the network of corridors, Hans sees sailors smashing pipes and opening seacocks - valves, to let water into the ship. Hans drops to his knees and joins several other men trying to open an especially large and rusty valve.

They push and heave, until eventually, the valve swings open, and icy cold sea water rushes through. Hans jumps back to his feet. He can feel the ship listing already. But there is still work to be done.

Hans turns and picks up a sledgehammer and begins leveling blows against the ship’s steel hull, determined to sabotage his own vessel rather than surrendering to the enemy.

By the end of the afternoon, fifty-two of the seventy-four German ships moored at Scapa Flow will have been scuttled - deliberately sunk by their crews, who would rather destroy their own ships than see them handed over to Britain. The British Royal Navy will try desperately to stop the sabotage, and gunshots will soon echo across the quiet Scottish bay, claiming the very last casualties of World War I following the Germans’ final, daring act of defiance on June 21st, 1919.

Introduction

From Noiser and Airship, I’m Lindsay Graham and this is History Daily.

History is made every day. On this podcast—every day—we tell the true stories of the people and events that shaped our world.

Today is June 21st, 1919: The German Navy Sinks its Own Fleet.

Act One: Battle of Jutland

It’s May 31st, 1916, a few hundred miles off the coast of Denmark; three years before the German sailors will scuttle their ships at Scapa Flow.

A British battleship, HMS Indefatigable, slices through the jagged waves of the North Sea. Deep in the bowels of the ship, signalman Charles Farmer sits hunched over his radio equipment, trying to maintain communication across the British Grand Fleet.

Comprising over 150 dreadnoughts, destroyers, and lightweight cruisers, this is the mightiest naval force ever assembled. Today, the British ships are sailing to meet the formidable German High Seas Fleet.

World War I has been raging for two years, but as of yet, no major sea battles have occurred with the bulk of the fighting taking place on land. But with Britain and Germany boasting the world’s two largest navies, the stage is set for an almighty confrontation. The fate of both nations hangs in the balance. If either side can establish dominance over the seas, they could turn the tide of the war in their favor.

Down in the radio room, Charles tries to quell his nerves. A Morse code message is beeping through his wireless receiver, and as he listens to the dots and dashes, the color drains from his face. With trembling fingers, he reaches for the mouthpiece and speaks into the receiver: “Enemy sighted. Transmitting coordinates.”

Within seconds, powerful reverberations shudder through the ship, as the British dreadnoughts open fire on the German fleet. Charles’s radio buzzes with constant activity. And as he frantically works the toggles and dials, a shell explodes nearby, throwing Charles to the floor. He staggers to his feet and puts his radio headset back on. But the equipment has been damaged in the blast. Charles rushes to make necessary repairs, but before he can, there’s another explosion, even closer. Thick black smoke soon engulfs him, and a high-pitched alarm starts wailing. The Germans must have struck the magazines, setting light to the ammunition. Charles' colossal battleship is ablaze, and exploding from within and soon will be sliding beneath the surface of the North Sea.

With his vessel listing violently, Charles staggers blindly down dark passageways, wading through chest-deep water. Eventually, he makes it to the foredeck, where chaos has broken out. Charles gags at the air, which is noxious with the stench of burning oil and flesh. Through the smoke, he can hear distant explosions and the agonized screams of wounded sailors. Charles is gripped by a paralyzing fear, but he knows that if he doesn’t act now, he will die. He mutters a quick prayer, then hurls himself from the sinking ship and into the icy waters.

When he surfaces just moments later, the Indefatigable has disappeared below the depths. Charles grabs hold of a piece of floating debris and gasps for breath. He hears the chug of a boat approaching and lifts his head to see a lightweight cruiser bounding toward him across the waves. As the vessel looms through the mist, Charles realizes, with a stab of panic, that the sailors pointing at him from the deck are Germans.

Charles Farmer is one of the few survivors from the sinking of the HMS Indefatigable, whose death toll numbers around 2,000. But despite this setback for the British Navy, the Battle of Jutland – as this naval confrontation will become known – is not a decisive victory for the Germans. Both sides sustain heavy losses, and ultimately what the battle proves is that neither Britain nor Germany has a clear-cut advantage at sea.

Two years after the Battle of Jutland, Britain and its allies achieve on land what they could not on the waves when they beat the German Army into submission. On November 11th, 1918, the German government concedes defeat. They agree to sign an armistice to stop the fighting and enter into negotiations over a peace settlement which will include a number of punitive sanctions and reprisals.

One of the many questions that arise during the peace negotiations is what to do with Germany’s undefeated naval fleet. Fearing a resumption of hostilities if the Germans deploy their battleships for one final sortie, the British government demands that the guns be disarmed and the vessels surrendered to British control. Begrudgingly, the Germans agree.

One week after the Armistice, the German High Seas Fleet will embark for Scotland, where the British Royal Navy has arranged to accept their surrender. It will be the final decisive naval operation of World War I – and it will unfold without a single shot being fired.

Act Two: Surrender

It’s November 1918 at the headquarters of the German Imperial Navy in Berlin; one year before the scuttling at Scapa Flow.

Ludwig von Reuter walks briskly into the office of Admiral Franz von Hipper, Commander-in-Chief of the German High Seas Fleet. Ludwig, a senior officer, throws up his arm in a stiff salute, and the Admiral wearily returns the gesture. Ludwig notices that von Hipper appears shrunken and diminished – a shadow of his former self. The fire that usually burned in the Admiral’s eyes has dwindled to a tired flicker.

The two veteran sailors sit down at either end of a long table. Every inch of its mahogany surface is covered with maps and charts. Scrawled pencil markings reveal carefully laid battleplans, a complex web of lines and arrows denoting enemy locations, wind directions, and potential tactical maneuvers. But all of it now abandoned. Ludwig feels a stab of anguish as he considers the victories the mighty German Navy could have achieved if only given more time.

But the war is over. Hostilities were brought to an end a few days ago, when the German Army, worn down by four years of conflict, cracked under the pressure of an Allied offensive. The German government agreed to a ceasefire, and the guns fell silent along the Western Front. Now, as the conquering nations convene to decide the terms of the armistice, Germany must await the crippling cost of her surrender. Ludwig fears the worst, that the British and the French will not be merciful in their triumph, they will try to humiliate Germany at every turn, beginning with that mighty force which for years has stood as a symbol of German strength and pride: her undefeated Navy.

Admiral von Hipper removes his hat and scratches his bald head. His voice trembles with rage as he confirms Ludwig’s fears: that under the terms of the armistice, Germany must surrender her fleet to Britain. They have been ordered to sail for Scotland, where they will be received by a Royal Navy Flotilla and escorted to a remote location. There, in a quiet bay off the island of Orkney, their ships will remain impounded until the terms of Germany’s defeat have been officially decided with the Treaty of Versailles.

Ludwig shakes his head. Clearly, the British are not content with sanctions and reprisals. They want to seize Germany’s battleships and adorn their masts with the colors of the Union Jack, and want to see the Germans humiliated, humbled, and debased.

Admiral von Hipper fixes Ludwig with an uncompromising stare. He growls that he would rather resign than lead his ships into imprisonment. So he’s stepping down and leaving Ludwig in command. Ludwig looks at the floor. Being offered the admiralty should be a great honor. But under these circumstances, it feels like a punishment.

Sensing Ludwig’s hesitation, Admiral von Hipper puffs out his chest and lifts his chin, like a commander on the eve of battle. He reminds Ludwig that while the war may be lost, they still have a duty to their country. While they must go along with the terms of the armistice, they must still fight tooth and nail not to relinquish their ships to the enemy… even if it means sinking the entire fleet to the bottom of the ocean.

Few days later, on November 18th, the High Seas Fleet eases from its moorings and sets a course west across the North Sea – seventy-four vast battleships belching steam and smoke into the winter sky. Despite their striking appearance, these vessels are hollow shells; they’ve been stripped of their guns and had their crews reduced. From the foredeck of one near-empty ship, Ludwig scans the horizon, where the outline of a Royal Navy light cruiser gradually appears through the haze.

The German fleet follows the British ship as it leads them north towards an estuary on the east coast of Scotland. There, the British Royal Navy has amassed the full might of its fleet, nearly two hundred dreadnoughts, destroyers, and cruisers, all assembled to receive the defeated Germans. It’s a terrific show of strength by the British, designed to reaffirm the totality of their victory. Ludwig receives instructions from the Commander-in-Chief of the Royal Navy to lower their ensign at sunset, thus completing their surrender.

The following day, the German fleet is escorted north to the island of Orkney, where they drop anchor in a bay known as Scapa Flow. And so commences their internment.

For the next seven months, Ludwig and his sailors will essentially be prisoners-of-war, unable to leave the confines of their rusting vessels, while they patiently wait for news from Versailles. By June, Ludwig will learn that the Treaty is nearing completion, and the official handover of the German fleet into British hands has almost been arranged. But Ludwig will come up with a plan to stop that from happening - a daring, dangerous act of defiance that will enrage the British, trigger celebrations in Germany, and leave the bay of Scapa Flow littered with sunken battleships.

Act Three: Midsummer’s Day

It’s June 21st, 1919 just off the Scottish island of Orkney.

Admiral Sir Sydney Robert Fremantle strolls the deck of his ship as it plows through the North Sea waves. The British Royal Navy officer is leading a routine torpedo exercise, and he’s taking a moment to enjoy the feeling of sun and sea air.

For the past seven months, Sydney has been in charge of supervising the German High Seas Fleet during its anchorage at Scapa Flow. His task is straightforward: ensure the German ships don’t leave the bay before the peace talks have concluded. Now, with the Treaty of Versailles just days away from being signed, Sydney’s job is almost complete.

But Sydney’s good mood is abruptly shattered when a junior officer races up to him bearing a code-red message. The German ships are sinking - and the reports suggest they’re being deliberately scuttled by the sailors on board.

Turning a violent crimson, Sydney bellows an order. And with steam billowing from its smokestack, the British ship turns around and guns for shore. But by the time they reach Scapa Flow, it’s already too late… 

The sight snatches Sydney’s breath away.

Everywhere he looks, the German battleships are sinking beneath the surface of the bay. Some have already all but vanished, with just their gun turrets protruding from the water. Usually calm and still, Scapa Flow has become a roiling, tumultuous sea, with whirlpools forming in the wake of the sinking ships.

Lifeboats full of German sailors head toward land. And although the sailors have technically surrendered, this scuttling is perceived as an act of violence. Sydney gives the order for Royal Navy patrol boats to open fire, and soon, gunshots reverberate across the bay.

By the end of the afternoon, 52 of the 74 ships moored at Scapa Flow will have been scuttled and nine German sailors will have been killed - the very last fatalities of World War I. The news of the scuttling will spark outrage across most of Allied Europe. But in Germany, Ludwig’s brazen act will be celebrated, with one former naval commander declaring: “The stain of surrender has been wiped clean from the German Fleet.”

But whether welcomed or lamented, the events of that day will go down in history as one of World War I’s final, extraordinary moments, one that will long attract tourists and scuba divers to the island of Orkney, where the act of defiance played out on June 21st, 1919.

Outro

Next on History Daily. June 22nd, 1969. The Cuyahoga River in Cleveland, Ohio catches fire, sparking a movement to clean up the United States’ polluted waterways.

From Noiser and Airship, this is History Daily, hosted, edited, and executive produced by me, Lindsay Graham.

Audio editing by Muhammad Shahzaib.

Sound design by Mischa Stanton.

Music by Lindsay Graham.

This episode is written and researched by Joe Viner.

Produced by Alexandra Currie-Buckner.

Executive Producers are Steven Walters for Airship, and Pascal Hughes for Noiser.