Memories of a Wireless Operations
with the Royal Navy
September 1915
Frederick Palmer
The description of what Frederick Palmer saw on the Flagship of Sir John Jellicoe, HMS Iron Duke, a dreadnought battleship of the Royal Navy, the lead ship of her class, named in honour of Arthur Wellesley, 1st Duke of Wellington.
After picturing for his readers his first glimpse of the British admiral, 'rarely without a telescope under his arm,' the American reporter was conducted through the Flagship, and finally arrived into the little wireless cabin which formed the hub of the mighty organisation:
'Stepping into a small room where the telegraph keys clicked and a compact wireless apparatus was hidden behind armour, we saw one focus of communication which brings Sir John word of any submarine sighted, or of any movement in all the seas around the British Isles, and carries the Commander-in-Chief's orders far and near. The blue-jackets on this service are invariably sturdy, long-service men of mature years.
Think of what this picture means! Nelson and the great British geniuses of the sea in old days were able to communicate with the units of their fleet by flag and flare signals alone, visible only when they were in close proximity to the Admiral's ship, and when the state of the atmosphere was favourable; liable to misunderstanding at all times. Many and many a battle manoeuvre, ordered under those old conditions, failed in execution through non-reading (or misreading) of the primitive signals employed.
Whenever a squadron had to be detached for separate service; as the vessels composing it passed from view, they passed from all possibility of quick communication. They might be able to carry out what they were sent to do, or they might fail. They might be destroyed, or sail away in a wholly unintended direction, without being able to let their commander-in-chief know where they were, or what they were doing. Wireless has completely revolutionised all this. Admiral Jellicoe can despatch single ships, or squadrons, where he will, and remain in touch with them the whole time. They can tell him how they fare, what they discover, how they are acting; they can ask for his instructions and receive them, so that he always has them as truly under command as if they were lying within earshot close by his side.
The complicated manoeuvres of a modern fleet are only possible under such conditions. The 'traffic', as it is technically called, at headquarters is enormous. The Lieutenant-Commander in charge of signals has information poured over him without cessation. Sheaves of white forms intrude upon his plate as he sits at table, are thrust into his hand as he goes on deck, follow him wherever he is in the ship, and fill his cabin. Only the Admiral and the Paymaster, who acts as the Admiral's secretary, can guess the vast mass of detailed information, instructions, and routine connected with the squadron with which they daily wrestle, even when the enemy makes no attempt to bring them to action. 'Stupendous' is the only word which can adequately describe the paper work alone. This goes on without cessation; the British fleet is on active service all the time. Senior officers in peace time do occasionally enjoy a little leisure; under present war conditions they get none at all. And this is the work of wireless.'