to the enemy’s submarine and no efficient protection against his improved torpedo … we have not produced any novelty at all except in the field of recruiting posters.9
It was June, 1915, when popular science fiction writer H. G. Wells echoed the nation’s concern with the new forms of warfare brought onto the battlefields of Europe and under the seas. The Times enabled Wells’ voice to be heard by individuals within the Government and the Admiralty. Throughout Britain, it had become painfully obvious that Germany had prepared for war, not just through its decades-long development of a strong military, but had engaged that country’s scientific minds in expanding her war-fighting technology. Wells understood the urgent need to match the technological superiority of the enemy. In a letter to The Times, published June 11 and titled “Mobilisation of Invention,” he called for the Government to organize the “scientifically and technically competent men for this highly specialized task.”10
Wells was not the only voice that appeared in The Times that June. British scientist Professor J. A. Fleming, referring in particular to the navy, emphasized to The Times readers that there “is no want of ability, but there is an entire absence of external directing power … [and that] … steps have been taken to inhibit scientific activity in directions which might assist the Navy,” lamenting the fact that he had not received “one word of request to serve any committee, co-operate in any experimental work, nor place expert knowledge at the disposal of the Crown.” Sir Phillip Magnus, an educator and Member of Parliament during the war, was insistent, proclaiming that “our scientific men are in no way inferior to those of Germany,” and recommended the creation of a committee of scientists who could provide a critical look at German weaponry, which the allies were facing.11 Parliament would soon take the advice of the scientist and the science fiction writer.
At the beginning of 1915, when Germany declared the waters around Britain a war zone, U-boats expanded their predatory attacks on commercial shipping. Public outcries against this deadly aggression were heard loud and clear throughout the government. Submarine warfare dominated the suggestions submitted by well-intentioned citizens, who continued to flood the Admiralty with ideas throughout the war. But good intentions were not enough—technology would have to be based on science. The Admiralty staff, however, was preoccupied with strategic planning and day to day decision-making. There was simply no organization tasked to separate ideas with potential from a vast collection of well-meaning but fanciful inventions. Yet, by the spring of 1915, Parliament, as well as the Admiralty, was acutely aware that matching what Germany’s scientific minds had devised required an appropriate response … and quickly.
The solution came from Arthur James Balfour who was named First Lord of the Admiralty on May 25, 1915, a member of Prime Minister Asquith’s Cabinet, replacing Winston Churchill. On July 5, through Lord Balfour’s urging, two scientific boards were created, one attached directly to the War Office. The other would focus specifically on naval technology—the Board of Invention and Research (BIR). Oversight of the BIR was assigned to Balfour, who fully understood the Admiralty’s urgent need to enlist scientific minds from both industry and academia. His insistence that the Board be free of administrative control by the Admiralty enabled the civilian scientists the flexibility to operate independently.12
Although the BIR would exist outside of direct naval control, the Board’s chairmanship would be best served by a man with extensive naval experience. Balfour then offered former First Sea Lord, Admiral Sir John Fisher, that position. The now retired Fisher, who eagerly accepted the offer, would have to deal with skepticism within the Admiralty, whose members recalled the loss of one of their first submarines. While engaged in fleet maneuvers in 1904, the A-1 was accidentally rammed by a steamer and sank with all hands. It would take another six years before the Admiralty once again considered the potential use of submarines as significant elements in naval engagements; there was, at that time, no thought of submarines as a threat to commerce. In 1913, as Germany’s intentions were beginning to be felt throughout Europe, Fisher had cautioned the Admiralty that the U-boat would likely be used against commercial shipping, but the idea was dismissed as utterly repugnant by the then First Lord of the Admiralty, Sir Winston Churchill.13
Fisher was also known as a vocal proponent of modernization, and had alienated some of his peers who were deeply entrenched in centuries-old naval traditions … modernization was not always embraced. But the potential blockade of Britain by a “modernized” fleet of U-boats became a reality in February 1915 when Kaiser Wilhelm’s Chief of the Naval Staff, Admiral Hugo von Pohl, announced that the waters around Great Britain and Ireland, including the English Channel, were considered a war zone, and that as of February 18, mercantile shipping encountered in this area would be sunk, and without warning. Submarine warfare would now be directed primarily against commercial vessels, affecting Britain’s lifeline—just as Fisher had forewarned nearly a year prior to the war.14
Lord Balfour was ready to put the BIR to work. A former First Sea Lord with a reputation of having a forceful personality had accepted the chairmanship. In his acceptance letter, Fisher replied that “German mines and submarines have walked ahead of us by leaps and bounds.”15 Fisher emphasized that among the most pressing issues were submarines and antisubmarine devices; Balfour was anxious to place the BIR in Fisher’s hands. On September 14, 1915, the primary goals Balfour envisioned for the BIR were provided to Fisher:
1. To concentrate expert scientific enquiry to certain scientific problems the solution of which is of urgent importance to the naval service;
2. To encourage research in a number of directions in which it is probable that results of value to the Navy might be obtained by organized scientific effort, and to consider schemes and suggestions put forward by inventors and other members of the general public.16
The BIR was organized into six sections: airships and general aeronautics; submarines and wireless telegraphy; naval construction; anti-aircraft equipment; ordnance and ammunition; armament of aircraft, bombs, and bomb sights. Committees and sub-committees were formed, and, it was hoped, Britain could match Germany’s technological advantages, which that country had benefitted through connections between their academic researchers and the military.17
Now with Admiral Sir John Fisher at the helm, a team of prestigious scientists were selected to serve on the board’s various committees, including Nobel Laureate Sir Ernest Rutherford. A colleague of Rutherford, physicist Henry Moseley, would have been an ideal candidate for membership, but had joined the Royal Engineers as a communications officer. Moseley was killed by a sniper on August 10 during the disastrous Gallipoli campaign. There was an obvious need to provide an avenue for Britain’s scientists to serve their country, not in the trenches, but in the laboratories. Another BIR member, Professor William H. Bragg, more than his colleagues, understood the urgency to work toward a rapid conclusion to this devastating war. His youngest son, Robert, also died in August at Gallipoli, while his other son was an officer serving in France.18
MEANWHILE, BACK AT THE FORTH
A noteworthy occurrence … was the removal of the entire establishment, or what remained of it, from Granton to Hawkcraig, and in December, 1915, the Service was first known as H.M. Experimental Station, Hawkcraig.19
As Lieutenant Wilson from Commander Ryan’s staff pointed out, the Admiralty took notice of the hydrophone work Ryan had accomplished, resulting in the establishment of an official experimental station. As early as February, 1915, the Admiralty had provided Ryan with the Tarlair, from a class of vessels known as “drifters,” to support his off shore experiments.20 Commander Ryan, who had been working initially at Inchkeith, now had what he wanted—recognition of his hydrophone work by the Admiralty and a vessel to expand his ability to conduct realistic operations in the Forth. At the beginning of 1915, Ryan, headquartered in a small building on Edinburgh’s Granton Pier, had a staff of six Royal Navy Volunteer Reserve (RNVR) officers and twenty chief petty
