Thinking About Seapower:
Navies, the Academy & Strategic Choice
Prof Andrew Lambert
By the Editor – In this article Professor Lambert considers Corbett’s role as an educator in the field of military strategy, the maritime principles of which Corbett derived from his studies of the Elizabethan Navy, the Seven Years War, the French Revolutionary and Napoleonic Was, the Russo-Japanese War and the First World War. Professor Lambert suggests parallels between the conduct of the Russian War of 1854 and the proposed Baltic plan of Jacky Fisher towards demonstrating the economic and diplomatic reach of British seapower. A 15 minute read.
It is a great honour to have the opportunity to present the Hudson Lecture,[1] in such splendid surroundings, and such esteemed company. My intention is to discuss the ongoing relationship between the two audiences in the room, naval practitioners and academics, using past experience to suggest how we might go forward.
Allow me to begin with some reflections prompted by the centenary of Sir Julian Corbett, 1854-1922, and his critical role in the development of a national strategy.[2] While Corbett dedicated most of his adult life to the education of the Royal Navy, he did so in the wider context of an evolving empire, changing diplomatic alignments, and major changes in domestic politics, not least female suffrage, a cause that he publicly supported.
As a progressive Liberal, a widely travelled civilian whose independent wealth was based on global investments Corbett had a sure grasp of how Britain operated in the world, and the challenges it faced. This was obvious in his view of empire. Unlike most of his contemporaries Corbett anticipated that the formal empire would evolve into what he termed a ‘Sea Commonwealth’ of essentially independent nations, linked by shared values, a common culture and mutual dependence on maritime communication.[3] The Navy would be essential to secure that process, and support the development of new navies that would help secure global sea control.
An experienced lawyer, successful novelist and Liberal politician[4] before he became a naval educator, Corbett was equipped to develop and deliver compelling arguments about national strategy. Appointed by Jacky Fisher to teach on the Royal Navy’s Senior Officer War Course in 1902 he worked closely with successive Directors of Naval Intelligence and the War Course Directors to develop a historical and strategic curriculum that addressed contemporary issues and enduring principles. This work brought him into contact with the mid-career and senior officers who would shape and lead the service down to the 1920s. His lectures, and the published texts developed from them, were the Navy’s primary intellectual resource; they explained why and how Britain waged war, highlighting the naval role in national strategy, while stressing the primacy of economic warfare, arguments that remain as relevant today as it ever was, and the strategic impact of combined arms operations.
Today Corbett is generally regarded as an important strategic thinker – focussing attention on one of his texts, which is invariably taken out of context. Rather than a strategist, or theorist of war, like his near contemporary Alfred Thayer Mahan, Corbett was a philosopher of seapower, profoundly influenced by the work of Clausewitz, and the intellectual challenge of developing a Prussian text to address a very different set of strategic issues.
Some Principles of Maritime Strategy, which appeared in 1911, was a resume of contemporary national strategic practice, linking naval, military and economic warfare in a single coherent system. It was directed at the political leadership, many of whom were personal friends. While it can be read as a doctrine primer, equipping officers and, he hoped, statesmen, with a common conceptual lexicon for high level discussions about strategy and policy, it also explained how Britain operated as a great power in the contemporary world. It was not a generic guide to the use of navies, British or otherwise. Commissioned by First Sea Lord Admiral Sir John Fisher, it was read and approved for publication by Fisher’s successor Admiral Sir Arthur Wilson: officially sanctioned at the highest level.
Doctrine provides the basis of effective action, the shared concepts, values and language that underpin cohesion and consistency. Historically the Royal Navy maintained high levels of doctrinal consistency, long before the word was in common use. Doctrine enabled commanders to anticipate how officers and men would respond to complex tasks. Nelson relied on doctrine at the Nile and Trafalgar, and recognised its’ limits. At the Nile he made the decisive tactical move, doubling on the French line of battle, while at Trafalgar his flagship took out the allied C3I. His well-briefed Captains knew what was expected and, once Nelson had completed the most difficult task, were able to perform at the highest level. While this approach worked well in battles of annihilation Nelson directed the battle of Copenhagen by signal, because the political aim was to persuade Denmark to leave a hostile alliance, without embittering a long-standing relationship that was critical to securing strategic access to the Baltic.
Corbett’s ultimate object as an educator was to develop the Navy’s intellectual capacity, and equip it for the ongoing debates with strategically educated soldiers. Six weeks after Arthur Wilson read and approved Corbett’s Some Principles the Director of Military Operations, General Sir Henry Wilson, urged the Committee of Imperial Defence to commit the Army to a continental role alongside the French, this would transform the Expeditionary Army, a central pillar of maritime strategy, into the nation’s primary strategic instrument, and separate it from the Navy. Aside from the obvious reality that a global maritime empire of trade had no business risking sea control to pursue continental agendas, Sir Arthur pointed out that such a choice would compel Britain to fight separate naval and military conflicts, rather than a coherent centrally directed maritime war, fundamentally weakening the strategic impact of the national effort. Although Wilson managed to block the adoption of the Army plan, his refusal to bow to political pressure to create a Naval Staff led to his dismissal by First Lord of the Admiralty Winston Churchill. Wilson would be vindicated in August 1914 when Churchill, who had also read Some Principles, backed the Army’s ‘continental’ agenda. The attempt to force the Dardanelles without troops was a direct result of that choice. The failure of the political leadership to settle national strategy in 1911 left them vulnerable to diplomatic and public pressure to ‘do something’ in 1914, while abdicating their wartime leadership role to the soldiers made the opening months of the conflict a study in how not to wage war.
Corbett, who knew all the politicians, many of the Admirals, and some of the soldiers, was appalled by this abdication of responsibility, the failure to think through the consequences of short-term measures, and the wilful ignorance of how Britain had waged previous conflicts. He would spend the rest of his life directing the Official History of the War project, and writing the central strategic narrative, because that was the only way he could highlight failures of political leadership that he knew had been avoidable, and emphasise that alternative methods, based on hard-won maritime precedents, had been advanced in Whitehall before 1914.
Corbett understood how Britain had exploited the luxury of an insular location and sea control to take as much or as little of conflicts as it chose, when they remained limited. While unlimited wars posed different questions, good precedents for sticking with the maritime method could be drawn from the French Revolutionary and Napoleonic conflicts when, as Corbett had demonstrated, insularity had enabled Britain to fight limited wars after the European military powers had been crushed by Napoleon’s ‘total’ methods.
Corbett summed up that experience as a ‘British way in war’ or simply a ‘British way’, to distinguish it from the contemporary ‘German way’, mass conscript armies conducting short ranged offensive operations, seeking war termination through massive battles. He recognised how German soldiers had perverted Clausewitz’s subtle arguments that stressed political aims, to demand ever larger armies. He was equally well aware that British soldiers reading the latest German literature, in English, lacked the capacity to see that it was irrelevant to British needs.
Corbett’s book England in the Seven Years War: A Study in Combined Strategy of 1907 explained how Britain had defeated France and Spain by dominating maritime communications, seizing colonies, and with economic warfare, leaving the European side of the conflict to subsidised Allies and hired troops. A reading of the book that replaced France with Germany and three-decker with Dreadnought would prepare his audience for the next war. The book had been developed from War Course lectures, and refined through discussions with students, the Course Director, the Director of Naval Intelligence, and First Sea Lord ‘Jacky’ Fisher. It was Fisher’s favourite book, one he frequently used to support his strategic argument, notably in 1914-15.
This case study, developed through sustained historical research and shaped by Clausewitzian arguments, provided a sound basis for strategic analysis. However, Corbett was obliged to rely on existing work when he analysed other conflicts: and few of them had been studied in suitable depth. This became clear when he referenced the Crimean War (1854-56) in Some Principles of Maritime Strategy, despite the fact that it was, at that time, the last time Britain had fought another Great Power. With the historical record dominated by the tactical and logistical shortcomings of a small British army in the Crimea Corbett missed the dominant role of maritime strategy in shaping and directing the national effort, and of the Royal Navy in delivering victory. That his assessment of an important modern war was compromised by the inadequacy of existing scholarship, emphasised the importance of intellectually consistent scholarship in the development of strategic analysis, doctrine, and wider ‘ways of war’, an issue to which I will return.
After 1911 Corbett had planned to deepen his knowledge of the Crimea, but was dragged away to other Navy directed projects, not least Trafalgar and a confidential study of the maritime aspects of the Russo-Japanese War, 1904-05, a subject he had been teaching for the previous decade. The resulting book appeared just as the Great War began, forming a segue between his historical writing and the Official History of the World War.
While current events have revived interest in the Crimea, few have given much thought to how the ‘Crimean’ war was won, and none at all to the role of Allied naval power. The bulk of English language material remains focussed on military activity in the Crimea, not least a famous cavalry charge, and the scale of casualties from battle and disease, while ignoring the far larger French military contribution to that campaign, the other theatres of the war, and the critical role of seapower.[5]
It is worth recalling that the Royal Navy and Marine Nationale captured the then town of Mariupol on June 5th 1855, a town that commanded the only road between the Don Valley and Crimea. That road had become critical to the logistics of the Russian Army in Sevastopol and the Crimea when the Allied fleets took control of the Sea of Azov. The Allies destroyed grain, flour, fodder and timber.[6] This operation was part of rapid littoral campaign that crushed Russian logistics, forcing them to abandon Sevastopol. There is no better example of naval operations shaping events on land.
The evidence needed to analyse this operation was published in 1945, by the Navy Records Society, with an introduction by the then Director of the Naval Historical Branch. Corbett, a founding member in 1893, ran the Society between 1911 and 1922 as a naval/academic interface, ensuring the Navy had the historical material it needed to think about current needs. In his day the Navy’s commitment to learning from past experience could be measured by the number of active duty officers who were members, and especially Councillors, of the Society. That evidence demonstrated that the ‘Russian War’ had been a global conflict, waged in four distinct maritime theatres, with the Crimean campaign only one component of a far wider Black Sea theatre. The Allies’ primary means of attack was economic, and the critical theatre was the Baltic, where the main British fleet operated. The Anglo-French invasion of the Crimea was an opportunistic grand raid intended to destroy the Russian Black Sea Fleet and the naval base at Sevastopol, assets that held Istanbul and the Bosphorus at risk of being seized by an amphibious operation.
In all four theatres Russian naval facilities were targeted, and several were destroyed. The strategic object of these operations was to enhance the Allies’ ability to impose an economic blockade. Russia was ultimately defeated by economic collapse, skilfully reinforced by the naval threat to St Petersburg. The scale of this defeat meant Russia ceased to be a major power for several decades.
The Royal Navy shaped British and Allied strategy, steam powered shipping enabled Allied armies to campaign in the Crimean all year round, 3,000 miles from England, while long-range precision fire destroyed Russian defences and bases. On April 23rd 1856 Britain celebrated victory with a massive naval review at Spithead, displaying the fleet created to destroy Cronstadt and St. Petersburg to the Queen, country and the assembled diplomatic corps. For the next thirty years Anglo-Russian disputes were ended by the mobilisation of a ‘Baltic’ Fleet at Portsmouth. This signalled intent, the underlying economic weapon was too obvious to need a demonstration. Effective sea-based deterrence was essential to securing critical national interests without war. Better history provides fresh and rewarding perspectives on all aspects of naval professional activity, and wider contexts in which to assess the impact of naval operations in war and peace.
This re-assessment of the ‘Crimean’ conflict leads on to the next question: how had Britain prepared for war? The answer is fairly straight-forward: it had developed the capability to attack hostile naval bases from the sea, with naval or amphibious forces, and while these developments focused on the new French base and dockyard at Cherbourg, the method was equally applicable to other rivals, notably Russia and the United States, with the Royal Engineers at Chatham exercising the capture and destruction of a naval base every year from 1812. These educated soldiers dominated British military planning. While the nineteenth century army was a critical element of national strategy, it was not seeking a continental role.
By 1906 that was no longer the case. Continentally-minded soldiers used the narrowly military ‘Crimean’ version of the war with Russia to claim that Baltic operations had no impact on the Crimean War, thereby discrediting ongoing naval planning for that theatre. This nonsense persists in most accounts of pre-1914 national strategic debates, despite the fact that the previous year Fisher had sent the Channel Fleet into the Baltic to end the First Moroccan Crisis, thereby averting a major war in Europe. Fisher, who served in the Baltic in 1855, had long recognised the enclosed sea as the weak point of both Russia and Germany, and he knew how to exploit that weakness. His military peers and political masters had no such insight. In 1914 he would rely on Corbett to translate his analysis into sound strategy. Not only had the inadequacy of ‘Crimean War’ literature empowered the Army, it had hampered Fisher and Corbett’s ability to challenge the ‘continental’ case. That such views continue to be repeated today indicates that accuracy and balance are not significant issues when grasping for a supportive analogy.
When the First World War broke out in August 1914 a small group of ministers, only four, took the decision to send the BEF to France. They did so in a meeting where they were heavily outnumbered by nine Generals. The First Sea Lord was the only Admiral present, and once Churchill, his political master, had urged the continental option, he was effectively silenced, having no constitutional authority to contradict the Minister. This, as Corbett recognised, was unprecedented. It meant that when Fisher returned to office as First Sea Lord in late October 1914 there was no national strategy, only naval and military operations, precisely as Arthur Wilson had predicted. Fisher had no time for soldier-led strategy, it was costly, wasteful, and could not secure Britain’s vital interests, which were oceanic, and did not include the security of France, a mission that belonged to the French Army. He developed a two stage maritime strategy which would begin by recovering the Belgian coast, the base for German attacks on Channel shipping, as it had been in many conflicts across the past three centuries. This would be conducted by the Combined efforts of Navy and a redeployed British Army in the summer of 1915. In the summer of 1916 a new armada of specialist warships would threaten the Baltic Narrows, either luring the High Seas Fleet into battle, or prompting a German invasion of the Jutland peninsula. In the latter case the BEF would secure the Danish archipelago, enabling the Navy to extend the existing economic war measures into the Baltic, with Russian support and bases, crushing the German war economy.
Corbett produced a powerful memorandum to support the case, but Churchill and Prime Minister Asquith, unwilling to face down the soldiers, refused to submit it to the War Cabinet. Churchill, who claimed the plan would take too long, pushed half-baked naval assaults on Borkum and the Dardanelles despite the opposition of his senior professional advisors. These were his only options, because he had broken the link between the services at the outbreak of war. In an attempt to reverse that decision Fisher resigned, demanding the authority to direct the war, but overplayed his hand. The failure to adopt a maritime strategy would dominate Corbett’s analysis of the First World War, as he revealed in the official history, a text developed for the post-war education of naval leaders.[7] The failure to attempt a British strategy in 1914 left the nation to wage a German war, with German methods, and against the masters of the genre. Grinding attrition replaced the ‘British Way’. There is an obvious point here for current deliberations. A better understanding of the Crimean War might have clinched the argument in 1914, and we have no excuse for persisting with the same old nonsense a century later. The failure of 1914 mattered: the failure to develop maritime offensive plans against Germany handed the initiative in the war at sea to the weaker side. Germany was quick to redeploy U-boats, assets created for defensive missions in the North Sea and Baltic, to attack British seaborne trade. Failure at the Dardanelles and the U-boat campaign flowed from poor strategic choices in 1914.
The dismissive attitude of the soldiers in 1906, and 1914, ignored the reality that Britain had worked hard across the previous two hundred years to maintain naval access to the Baltic, to secure vital interests and discipline hostile powers. This was more often a matter of diplomacy than war, and hardly ever hit the headlines. After Nelson had fought the Danes in 1801 to obtain access he directed a thorough survey of the Danish narrows. This, in turn, enabled the amphibious operation in 1807 to seize the entire Danish Fleet, securing access for a major war against Russia. Between 1807 and 1812 the Baltic Fleet was the largest British fleet. That Russian war has been completely forgotten because it was an economic war, with hardly any casualties, no military operations, and one that Britain won. In 1833 Denmark and Sweden stressed they would be neutral in the event of an Anglo-Russian conflict; a concession that enabled the Royal Navy to command the Baltic during the ‘Crimean’ War.
Appointed by the Committee of Imperial Defence to direct the entire Official History of the War, Corbett subtly shaped the project to emphasise the lost opportunities of 1914-15, to equip his students with the arguments needed to prevent another continental commitment. He used the first volume to teach the revived War Course in 1919, and it shaped Lord Jellicoe’s post-war report on Imperial Defence.[8]
Well aware that one man could not hope to create the historical record necessary to support sophisticated strategic analysis, Corbett had used the 1913 meeting of the International Congress of Historical Sciences in London to deliver the first coherent explanation of how history should be developed to best serve the intellectual needs of navies, and armies. Having assembled a team of experts, which included the Review’s founder, Captain Herbert Richmond, he persuaded his friend Prince Louis of Battenberg, the First Sea Lord, to chair the lectures, which were delivered at the RUSI. He was well aware that the universities were the obvious place to recruit the academic expertise needed to sustain and develop naval history, as the intellectual basis for the higher education, not training, of naval officers. In 1919 he was offered a naval history chair at Cambridge, but ultimately decided that completing the Official History was his priority, and that London was the best place to study naval history, with King’s College the central point, while the new School of Advanced Studies at Senate House directed the post-graduate research. A London institution could access and support the Staff College, then at Greenwich, the City of London and the Government. The past is not fixed, nor are the means of recovering and interpreting it, new questions are needed to prompt fresh research.
In early 1914 Corbett was awarded the Chesney Medal by the RUSI: that this was a rare achievement for a naval historian reflected the Navy’s indifference. Only the presence of high ranking naval intellectuals on the Council that year secured the award, despite fierce opposition from the soldiers. When he was awarded a knighthood in 1917 it was not for his services to the Navy, but for producing a short brief on Cabinet Government in wartime for the Prime Minister, the work of a single evening. The Navy has rarely recognised its’ intellectuals, unlike the other services. Not that Corbett wished for accolades, he responded to the knighthood by creating an amusing bookplate…
Today we need to refresh the relationship between navies and the academy, to create the space for intelligent debate, and alternative agendas. There is a certain irony in the fact that the Royal Navy, which has so much history, has consistently under-used the resource. Other British armed services, and other navies, have been more inventive. New epochs demand new histories, because history is how we arrived at this point in time, not the opinion of a Victorian sage, or Cold War academic warrior. The events may not change, but how we understand them does. Many Victorians thought war, conquest and empire were tokens of glory, and while we may disagree, Vladimir Putin does not. We still need to understand the battle off Cape Trafalgar, but there is far more to the naval past than that, as Corbett’s book on the subject stressed.
The current conflict ought to prompt a serious study of how seapower and sanctions (the use of economic pressure without a declaration of war) have contained or defeated Russia across the centuries, while military operations have consistently failed. It is a task Corbett would have relished. I suspect he would have started by explaining how long term efforts to shape the international legal regime, and secure access through key choke points, had enabled that strategy. Most of the critical battles that have enabled seapower strategy were fought by lawyers and diplomats, in ministerial buildings, Courts and peace conferences. Corbett, ever the lawyer, provided the brief that blocked ‘Freedom of the Seas’ in 1919. He would warn us that the greatest threat to the effective use of seapower today is the creeping continentalisation of ocean space, a trend that privileges land-based imperial hegemons over the western maritime liberal collective. Here American and British views differ, as they did in 1919. But Corbett would only be able to provide the appropriate level of analysis if his naval interlocutors were asking suitably open and ambitious questions, and understood that it would take time to develop the necessary responses. While Some Principles was the product of 20 years of study, eleven years of them working with Jacky Fisher, and nine teaching the War Course, it remained hostage to the limitations of the research base. Are we any better equipped today?
I really ought to conclude, but this is an open-ended debate, where the process – the exchange of ideas, evidence and opportunity is ongoing, and far more important than any, necessarily contingent, conclusions. If navies want better answers they must ask better questions, and value the expertise needed to answer them.
The Hudson Bequest has provided a precious opportunity for that process, I am sure Corbett would have applauded. While he wrote for the Navy he recognised the need for partnership with the academy, as the source of intellectual rigour and educated historians, working hard to bring naval history into the academic mainstream. Educating naval historians has always been an easier task than getting navies to see the past as the richest and most rewarding repository of hard-won experience – if studied in breadth, depth and context. Corbett revealed his priorities when he turned down the Cambridge chair to complete the Official History. That was doubly wise: the chair ceased to be naval in 1936 – in part because the Navy didn’t care.
Corbett stressed that navies, and defence generally, needed a more sophisticated connection with the past, the experience that highlights long term trends and patterns, like a ‘British Way of War’, and stimulates fresh thinking. Those enquiries need to be open-ended, and ambitious: avoiding closed questions and lazy assumptions. If this is academic work it should be shaped and stimulated by naval professionals who can see the big picture, and the pressing need. ‘Jacky’ Fisher had that ability, it provided the basis of his long creative relationship with Corbett, while some senior officers had ‘academic’ intellects, notably Edmund Slade and Herbert Richmond, but many more engaged with Corbett’s work in positive and creative ways. Those long-term relationships enabled him to deliver lectures, position papers, legal arguments and books that enhanced the Navy’s intellectual capacities and stimulated fresh thinking. If we do not value experience, the ideas it generates, and the processes that exist to recover and process it into usable outputs, we condemn ourselves to repeat old mistakes, and make new ones.
The rejection of the Baltic option in 1914-15 is a case in point. Inadequate historical scholarship enabled those with other agendas to dismiss the sustained application of seapower in that theatre to coerce, control or defeat Imperial Germany. Had the Navy asked Corbett to examine the long history of British grand strategy in the region, rather than directing him to address the comfortable glory of Trafalgar, the supreme moment of naval history, it might have been equipped to rebut the Army’s continental alternative. Inspired by Fisher’s deployment of the fleet to Swinemunde in September 1905 Corbett discussed the Baltic in his Seven Years War. The quality of his response to a larger ‘Baltic’ question may be judged from the skilful way he subverted the mythic Trafalgar to get senior officers to see the supreme naval battle in the grand strategic context, as part of a larger whole, an approach repeated in his Russo-Japanese War and Naval Operations. That last text prompted serious attacks on his work from Churchill and Admiral Lord Beatty, men who found the truth inconvenient. Predictably Corbett had already prepared the ground before fighting those battles. He had written the contract between a leading commercial publishing house, the one he had used since 1898, and the Government. That document obliged the Government to publish his books. To celebrate that victory, he publicly reminded Beatty’s Board of Admiralty that the so-called ‘decisive victory’ at Trafalgar had no more strategic effect than the drawn battle at Jutland. While it is always amusing to see outsize egos deflated there was also an important lesson: to be effective the relationship between naval and academic professionals must be that of equals, with clearly established terms of engagement to prevent changes of personnel from disrupting the process. If the Navy is ready to ask ambitious, open questions, and the academy can come close to matching Corbett’s responses, British seapower has a future – as strategy and identity.
Tragically death denied Corbett the chance to analyse the U-boat war, explain the strategic purpose of Fisher’s Baltic Plan, and the critical campaign to secure the right to conduct blockades at the 1919 peace process, where his position papers were used to defeat the ‘Freedom of the seas’ rhetoric of President Woodrow Wilson. Little wonder Jellicoe lamented: “who will carry on his work, no-one living can really do it satisfactorily.”[9] Revising the Official History a dozen years later Royal Marine Colonel Edmond Daniel, a long term collaborator, concluded: “he has no successor. There is no-one living who can set out the lessons to be learned from the study of naval history as he did.”[10] The proof of those arguments can be found in the profoundly Corbettian British strategic publications of the 1990s.
Ultimately Corbett argued that a maritime strategy was the logical baseline for British thinking, and used his research to highlight the critical role of statesmen who had understood the issues. William III, Marlborough and Pitt the Elder were his models. In 1914 there was no-one to take up that role: Marlborough’s famous descendant proved more of a hindrance.
[1] This article was originally delivered as the 2021 Hudson Lecture delivered at Exeter College Oxford on 19 May 2022
[2] Andrew Lambert The British Way of War: Julian Corbett and the Battle for a National Strategy, Yale University Press, 2021.
[3] Corbett would have approved the fact that the Commonwealth now includes nations that were never part of the British Empire.
[4] Corbett was invited to stand for Parliament on more than one occasion, and his brother was an MP.
[5] Andrew Lambert, The Crimean War: British Grand Strategy against Russia 1853-1856. Manchester, 1990, 2nd Edition Aldershot, 2011.
[6] Captain Lyons to Rear Admiral Sir Edmund Lyons 5.6.1855: Captain Alfred Dewar ed. The Russian War: Black Sea 1855. London, Navy Records Society, 1944, pp. 190-2. Dewar led the Admiralty Historical Section, which used the Navy Records Society to publish historical material intended to stimulate fresh thinking. This was one of three volumes which reprinted the contemporary Confidential Cabinet Print, they would have been of inestimable value to Corbett in 1911.
[7] Sir Julian Corbett, Naval Operations Vol. II, London, Longman, 1921, pp. 3-4, 16, 82, 105, 129, 138, 288-9, 409-10. Corbett’s volumes of Naval Operations included the Grand Strategy narrative of the war.
[8] Jellicoe to Corbett 1.2.1919 & Corbett’s endorsement. CBT 7/15 (Corbett Papers, National Maritime Museum, Greenwich). Patterson, A T. ed. The Jellicoe Papers Vol. II, London, Navy Records Society, 1968 p. 324. See also 283, 400-3, 412-19 for correspondence with Corbett. Diary 29.1.1919 & 1.2.1919: CBT 43/18
[9] Jellicoe to Lady Corbett 14.3.1923: CBT 7/15
[10] Daniel to Lady Corbett 31.12.1934: CBT 7/13
