Exceptional Naval and Polar Awards from the Collection of RC Witte

A rare Great War Baltic operations D.S.M. group of four awarded to Chief Petty Officer G. D. Thomas, Royal Navy, who was decorated for gallant services in the submarine E. 8 in October 1915, when she torpedoed and sunk the cruiser Prinz Adalbert

Distinguished Service Medal, G.V.R. (175034 G. D. Thomas, Act. Ch. P.O., H.M. Sub. E 8, Baltic, Oct. 1915); 1914-15 Star (175034 G. D. Thomas, Act. C.P.O., R.N.); British War and Victory Medals (175034 G. D. Thomas, C.P.O., R.N.), good very fine (4) £2500-3000

This lot was sold as part of a special collection, Exceptional Naval and Polar Awards from the Collection of RC Witte.

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D.S.M. London Gazette 22 June 1916.

George David Thomas was born at St. Pancras in London in May 1877 and entered the Royal Navy as Boy 2nd Class in July 1893. Advanced to Petty Officer 1st Class in January 1906, he transferred to the fledgling submarine service in August 1912, and was serving in the E. 8 by the outbreak of hostilities in August 1914.

Commanded by Lieutenant-Commander Francis Goodhart, R.N., the E. 8 was ordered to the Baltic in August 1915, an epic journey in which, among many hair-raising incidents, she was pursued by German patrol vessels - fortunately for posterity’s sake, just one chapter of the extensive coverage afforded her Baltic exploits in Edwards’ We Dive at Dawn.

In any event, having arrived at Revel, Goodhart and his crew were quickly in action, sending the iron-ore carrying German steamer Margarethe to the bottom by gunfire on 5 October 1915. A little over a fortnight later, on the 22nd, E. 8 achieved much greater fame for torpedoing and sinking the German cruiser Prinz Adalbert, 20 or so miles west of Libau:

‘The unusual movement happened on the afternoon of 22 October 1915. An armed trawler came out of Libau, steamed down the swept channel to the edge of the minefield, and there stopped. It was clear to Goodhart that some important ship or squadron was expected, and that the trawler was on the edge of the minefield to mark it and the end of the swept channel. He watched all night, but nothing happened. Soon after 8.30 next morning, however, he sighted smoke to the eastward. Some vessel was leaving Libau.

E. 8 at once made to head her off. As the ship approached, Goodhart, watching through the periscope, saw that she was a large cruiser with three funnels and two very tall masts. She was steaming fairly fast, and was screened by two destroyers, one on either bow. All the ships were zigzagging to avoid submarine attack. Goodhart now had a very difficult attack to carry out. He had to hurry E. 8 along at her full submerged speed in order to get within torpedo range, for the ship had not turned to the south-west, as he had expected. Moreover, the weather was very calm. The wash of a submarine diving along at high speed might easily be seen, for the surface of the water was ruffled only by a light breeze from the south-south-east. Moreover it was bright sunlight, and the sun might glint off the top glass of his periscope, and give him away while still well out of range. But Goodhart turned both the sun and breeze to his advantage, attacking from the southward, so that the sun would be in the enemy’s eyes, while the breeze would tend to lessen the effect of his wake.

E. 8 ran in towards the enemy - who was steaming at 15 knots - at 7½ knots, until within 3000 yards. Then the submarine’s speed was reduced to 5 knots, to lessen the wake. As the range grew less, E. 8’s speed was further reduced. Finally, at 9.28 a.m. the submarine succeeded in dodging the port screening destroyer, which passed ahead. At 9.32 Goodhart fired his torpedo at the enemy cruiser. The range was 1300 yards, and it took a whole interminable and anxious minute for the torpedo to run this distance. But the shot went true. Through the periscope Goodhart saw a vivid flash on the water-line of the big cruiser, just below the bridge. Then there came a very heavy explosion. The whole ship was almost instantly hidden in a huge column of thick grey smoke. A few seconds later debris began to rain down close to E. 8 - “Many portions of the ship were observed to be falling in the water all round,” as Goodhart put it in his report.

Goodhart took E. 8 down to 50 feet to be out of the way of the falling wreckage. He was wise; for one of the weirdest tales of the Great War is that of a German U-boat which was sunk by a lorry. The U-boat torpedoed a merchant ship, which, in addition to its other cargo, was carrying lorries on the upper deck. The ship blew up, and one of the lorries, after turning over and over in the air, came down on the U-boat just as she was rising to the surface, and sank her. The lorry-driver was not, of course, in his cab. Had he been, and had he survived, one wonders whether he would have been given the D.S.O., which was the reward for sinking a German submarine.

To return to E. 8.  After ten minutes at 50 feet, Goodhart considered that all the wreckage must have come down, so he took E. 8 up to periscope depth to see what was happening. There was no sign of the big ship, and the destroyers were lying stopped close to where she had disappeared. Goodhart left them alone. They were undoubtedly picking up survivors, and the fact that they were doing so instead of hunting E. 8 showed that they did not know that a submarine was in the vicinity. If this was so, the loss of the cruiser might be put down to a mine and the submarines given more chances.

The ship which E. 8 had sunk was the Prinz Adalbert, the 9000-ton cruiser which Horton in E. 9 had been disappointed not to find still on a sandbank in January. The Prinz Adalbert was the second flagship of the German Baltic squadron to be sunk.’

Thomas, who was awarded the D.S.M., removed to the E. 19 in August 1916, and remained actively employed in the Baltic until returning home in January 1918. He was demobilised in March 1919, having also been awarded the L.S. & G.C. Medal back in February 1915 - the whereabouts of which is unknown.