The Death of Kitchener

Perhaps the most famous and
enduring image of WW1?
The Kitchener poster

For a short time, the Battle of Jutland and its immediate repercussions overtook the nation's pre-occupation with the Western Front and the ongoing tribulations of the British and allied armies. The next event brought the two together. The embodiment of the British Army in the public eye was War Minister and head of the British Armed forces, Horatio Herbert Kitchener. If Jackie Fisher was the greatest British sailor since Nelson, there was no disputing Kitchener's place in the pantheon of great British Generals. There was irony, cruel fate and mystery in the demise of such a famous soldier at sea, and so soon after the Battle of Jutland itself.

Kitchener was born in Ireland in 1850, but was educated in Switzerland and then at the Military School in Woolwich. He held the rare (British) distinction of having served in the French army - albeit in the ambulance corps - in the Franco-Prussian war of 1870. He distinguished himself throughout his military career in roles as engineer, cavalryman and as administrator. His fame came from campaigns in the Middle East, and in Africa, especially in Sudan and in the Boer War. He was made Commander-in-Chief of the British Army in India from 1902-09, famously falling out with the Viceroy, Lord Curzon, so that he was moved to become the British Consul General in Egypt. 

By the time war was declared in 1914, he had unparalleled military stature and reputation and was given the onerous office of Minister for War - supremo for both military and political conduct of the war. His greatest talent was vision rather than grasp of detail, and he was one of the few to demur from the prevailing view that the war would be a short one, predicting that it would last at least three years. On account of this, he argued against conscription, and set about creating the largest volunteer army the world had ever seen - perhaps his greatest achievement. Taciturn and aloof, he was never comfortable with the political aspect of his role, and the detailed aspects of his brief taxed him greatly. A strong administrator but poor delegator, he was gradually worn down by the pressures of office. By early 1916, he was at the end of his tether. If failure to force the Dardanelles did for Churchill as First Lord of the Admiralty, the recurrent disasters and changes of plans at Gallipoli undermined Kitchener's authority with the Government. Already under pressure for his support of the costly (and failed) endeavours on the Western Front through 1915, Kitchener's increasingly desperate decisions over Gallipoli led to the decision to appoint Sir William Robertson as Chief of the Imperial General Staff (CIGS), taking over many of Kitchener's responsibilities (see The Final Weeks of 1915 - 1/12/2015).

A lack of political skills to deal with his governmental (and very political) colleagues meant that Kitchener's fall from grace was precipitate, and by the time of Jutland, he was being virtually ignored in cabinet. However, none of this affected his status and popularity with the general public or, in particular, with 'his' army.

Kitchener boarding the Iron Duke to meet
with Jellicoe on 5th June.

In May, Kitchener had received an invitation from the Tsar to visit Russia and meet both with the Government and with the military high command. This was not a bad time for him to be away from London and so on June 4th, just two days after the last of Jellicoe's fleet had returned to base post-Jutland, he said his farewells to the King and to Asquith, the Prime Minister, and set off by train to the north of Scotland on the first leg of his journey to a three weeks visit to Russia. Incredibly, but for a late intervention by Asquith, he would have been accompanied by David Lloyd-George, the Government's ultimate politician. From Thurso, a destroyer carried him across the Pentland Firth to join Jellicoe aboard his flagship the Iron Duke in Scapa Flow. As the two commanders lunched, the weather underwent one of its typical drastic changes, and by early evening the worst storm of the year was blowing from the north east. Jellicoe urged Kitchener to postpone by 24 hours, but the latter was not a man to tamper with his schedule. To give his cruiser HMS Hampshire and her VIP passenger some protection from the worst of the storm, Jellicoe ordered a westerly course around the Orkneys and Shetlands, and it was in those less familiar waters that the Hampshire struck a mine in very heavy seas around 7pm.

Orkney memorial to Kitchener, lost a few miles off
the coast along with hundreds of others.

The ship went down in 15 minutes. It was too rough to launch the lifeboats, and of the 650 men on board only 12 survived. Kitchener was not one of them, and for Jellicoe - even perhaps more than the stunned nation - this was a very severe blow to add to his post-Jutland slump, having personally ordered the course of the ill-fated Hampshire. 

So, less than three weeks before the supreme test of Kitchener's army in Picardy, its inspiration had met a watery grave. He did not live to see their fate at the Somme.