Chapter 27: Those Who Lead
Ships of the Hochseeflotte moored quayside in Wilhelmshaven harbor – circa 1916. The dreadnought in the foreground is a Konig Class battleship, III Battle Squadron.
IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: CUXHAVEN
By: Dreadnought & AP
Chapter 27:
THOSE WHO LEAD
As with all military plans, they look very good on paper, but they rarely survive the point at which they are put into execution. And so it would be with Jellicoe’s elaborate operation -- but it was hardly his fault. He had the benefit of commanding the largest battle fleet the world had ever seen. And Room 40 was decoding German wireless traffic almost as soon as they got it -- and -- he outnumbered his opponent by a considerable margin. As his battle fleet steamed southeast by east, Jellicoe was not at all certain he was going to encounter the enemy. The boys in Room 40 had as much as told him so.
Around half-past noon (12:30) on 31 May, Rear-Admiral Jackson, the Admiralty D.O.D., had checked in with Room 40 to see where the German flagship was located. Room 40 had long ago established Sheer’s flagship (SMS Friedrich der Grosse) was assigned the wireless call-sign “DK”. By intercepting enemy messages, and taking the directional bearings at the same time, they knew exactly where the German flagship was located. When Jackson asked, Room 40 gave him the short answer – Wilhelmshaven. And if the flagship was still in port, that meant the Hochseeflotte was still at anchor. Without confirming the particulars with the Room 40 staff, or even consulting other Admiralty staff, he transmitted a message to Jellicoe…“DK still placed in Jade at 11:10 – Apparently they have been unable to carry out air reconnaissance which has delayed them.” The message was received by both the Grand Fleet and Beatty’s Battlecruiser Fleet. Suddenly, a trap certain to ensnare their enemy, had been transformed into just another training mission. With the wind blowing strong from the northwest, Jellicoe reasoned there was little likelihood the German airships could be used, and even less chance the Germans would put to sea without them. Now his thoughts turned to deciding if he could remain at sea and try again, tomorrow.
Unfortunately for Jellicoe, the Hochseeflotte staff officers had grown suspicious when the Grand Fleet seemed to miraculously turn up everywhere they planned an operation. It was simply too often for it to be coincidence. Though suspicious, the German naval command never changed the codes. But two bright lads on Scheer’s staff came up with a plan and managed to convince Scheer to try it. Just before taking the battle squadrons to sea, Scheer’s flagship exchanged call signs with the radio station at the entrance of the III lock into Wilhelmshaven. The flagship now had a new call-sign Room 40 did not know, while the lock wireless station continued to transmit normal traffic as “DK” – giving the impression Friedrich der Grosse was still at anchor in the Jade. The end result was two great fleets steaming into the North Sea – and neither would know the other was out.
The ironic twist – and there is always an ironic twist – is that the Germans transmitted a signal to all ships and stations announcing the exchange of call-signs, just to make sure everyone was on the same sheet of music. However, the Germans transmitted in an entirely different and little used cypher code. Room 40 was unable to decode the message right away, so with an operation in progress, they simply put it to one side and carried on – leaving Jellicoe unaware the German battle fleet had followed Hipper to sea.
With a battle as controversial as Jutland, there always seems to be a second version of events, and this is no exception. In the alternative version, it is normal operating procedure for the German flagship to change call signs when it goes to sea – there was no attempt at deception. The problem occurred within the Admiralty. Rear-Admiral Jackson mistakenly asked the whereabouts of “DK” – the call sign – NOT the actual flagship. Had Jackson asked for the location of the German flagship, presumably, he would have been told it was at sea, and given the position based on the radio direction bearings. There is, of course, a problem with the second story. Once at sea, the Germans were unlikely to generate enough wireless traffic to provide Room 40 with a position fix. AND – my guess is that if Room 40 had any idea the German flagship was at sea – they would have notified the Admiralty staff and The Fleet immediately. But – I will leave you to decide which version of events sounds more logical.
With four groups of capital ships steaming on converging courses, and the sun about to rise in the North Sea – let us take a moment to learn about the men who command them.
THE PRINCIPLE COMMANDERS
John Jellicoe in the uniform of “Admiral Of The Fleet” – circa 1917.
Admiral Of The Fleet Sir John Rushworth Jellicoe, 1st Earl Jellicoe, Viscount Jellicoe of Scapa Flow: 1859 – 1935.
Born the son of a merchant sea captain, John Jellicoe joined the Royal Navy in 1872 at the age of thirteen. He gradually rose through the ranks in the slow but steady career progression common to the Royal Navy in the Victorian Era. Attaining the rank of commander, he was serving in the Mediterranean aboard the battleship HMS Victoria in 1893 when it collided with HMS Camperdown and sank off Tripoli. The accident was the result of incompetent ship handling by Vice-Admiral Sir George Tryon. (Tryon at least had the good sense to go down with his ship.) In 1900, during the Boxer Rebellion, Captain Jellicoe commanded the battleship HMS Centurion, and was chief of staff to Admiral Sir Edward Seymour at the time of his relief expedition to Peking. Having been badly wounded ashore, at the Battle of Peitsang, Jellicoe refused to die and was appointed a Companion Of The Order Of The Bath, and also awarded the Imperial German Order Of The Red Eagle, 2nd class, with Crossed Swords.
In 1905, Jellicoe was taken on as a protege of Admiral Jackie Fisher, and his career began to alternate between sea commands and assignments in the Admiralty. He was made Aide-de-Camp to the King-Emperor, Edward VII, in 1906, and promoted rear-admiral in 1907. He pushed hard for funds to modernize the navy, supported dreadnought construction, and campaigned tirelessly for improvements in gunnery fire control. In the first decade of the 20th Century, the Royal Navy had become obsessed with “spit and polish” and paid little attention to gunnery. British fleets spent much of their time steaming from port to port, reminding the world that Britannia ruled the waves, and touching-up their gleaming white paintwork. Gunnery practice was only mandated four times per year, and even then, there were no instructions, guidelines, or required performance standards. In fact, the only requirement was that a ship should expend 25% of its ammunition load at each practice. With such a slack attitude toward gunnery, it is not surprising that on more than one occasion, ship’s officers were known to have ordered the ammunition jettisoned over the side – rather than risk powder stains on the paint scheme.
Jellicoe was appointed second-in-command of the Atlantic Fleet in 1907, Third Sea Lord in 1908, then moved to Commander-In-Chief Atlantic Fleet in 1910. Promoted vice-admiral in 1911, he became second-in-command of the Home Fleet, then commander of the 2nd Battle Squadron in 1912. In December 1912, he was appointed Second Sea Lord. With the outbreak of war in 1914, Winston Churchill removed Admiral George Callaghan as Commander-In-Chief Home Fleet, and promoted Jellicoe to full admiral to take command of the renamed “Grand Fleet”.
There was some grumbling among the “senior” ranks in The Fleet over the precipitate manner in which Churchill promoted Jellicoe over the heads of officers with more seniority. But, despite the grumbling, the question remained – who better to command the Grand Fleet than Jellicoe? In 1902, as a young officer, he had shown an aptitude for gunnery and was sent to the new gunnery school aboard HMS Bulwark. By 1904 his quick grasp of technical issues found him selected to serve as a member of Fisher’s exploratory design committee for HMS Dreadnought. He then served as Third Sea Lord of the Admiralty under Fisher, making him responsible for developments in ship design, armor research and application – and -- development and advancement of warship guns and munitions. This post also gave him access to the latest information on the development of submarines, torpedoes, and mines, both at home and abroad. There was no other line officer in the Royal Navy possessed of such a comprehensive technical knowledge of the modern dreadnought. Simply put – he knew the strengths and weaknesses of each of his battleships and had the tactical knowledge to use them.
Jellicoe, the man, had a spotless service record, was known as immensely capable, and was considerably more than “well-connected”, with friends in the very highest places. Despite all this, he was a modest man and sincerely placed the unity of his flag-officers and the well-being of the Fleet above his own ambitions. His very appearance bespoke modesty. He was just 5 feet 6 inches, with a spare frame, a tight-lipped mouth, and a somewhat prominent nose. He had kind eyes – a welcome feature to junior officers – but they were deceptive. He was quick and clever, saw everything, missed nothing, and instantly understood everything he had seen. His physical courage, though not often on display, was beyond doubt. As an “enlightened” admiral, he cared for each and every man under his command. Jellicoe was universally recognized as a superb seaman and an expert ship handler. Large fleets were notoriously difficult to handle in the early decades of the 20th Century, and his quick brain, cognitive powers, and instant commands were faultless – even in the midst of roaring battle. (It should be noted the Battle Fleet was far larger, and its battle line far longer, than any other at Jutland. And yet, there were no mistaken flag signals among the battleships.) Though he acted swiftly, he made careful and calculated decisions.
Some have criticized him as over-cautious – he was not. But he was careful. Jellicoe understood the responsibility resting on his shoulders. Winston Churchill later said he was “...the only man on either side who could lose the war in an afternoon”. Though typical of Winston’s fondness for hyperbole, it is substantially true. If Jellicoe had rashly and recklessly sacrificed the Grand Fleet, the Hochseeflotte might have gained the upper hand, and the outcome of the war could have been different. Without giving undue weight to outrageous “what if” scenarios, there is little doubt a significant loss of capital ships would have considerably effected Britain’s political stance. Tactically, the British might even have lost the ability to effectively blockade the German ports.
HMS Iron Duke, flagship of the Grand Fleet at the Battle of Jutland.
Iron Duke Class: HMS Iron Duke, HMS Marlborough, HMS Benbow, HMS Emperor Of India – all commissioned 1914.
Displacement: 25,820 tons – 21 knots – 10x13.5-inch guns – 12x6-inch guns – 4x21-inch torpedo tubes – belt armor 12 inches.
Model courtesy of @Barroco Hispano.
Vizeadmiral Carl Friedrich Heinrich Reinhard Scheer – 1863 – 1928.
Reinhard Scheer was born to a middle-class family in Obernkirchen, Lower Saxony. He entered the Imperial navy in 1879, at age fifteen, as a naval cadet. His early grades in training exams were not spectacular, but he managed to achieve the second highest rating in his class for the 1880 “Sea Cadets” exam. He was sent for special training in gunnery, torpedo warfare, and naval infantry tactics. (In those days, many young officers would serve in the African colonies or on the China Station.) Scheer served in various posts aboard foreign station cruisers – some wooden-hulled and steam-driven. He participated in, and even led, some of the landing parties sent to keep order in the far-flung parts of the empire.
By 1905, Scheer had attained the rank of Kapitan zur See and took command of the pre-dreadnought battleship SMS Elsass in 1907. In 1909 he became chief of staff to Flottenchef Admiral von Holtzendorff and, at age 47, reached flag rank less than 6 months later. By 1911, he had been transferred to the Reichsmarineamt, where he held the post of Chief of the General Naval Department. Scheer returned to sea duty in January 1913, with command of the II Battle Squadron, and was promoted to Vizeadmiral in December of that year. War broke out in 1914, and in January of the following year, he was given command of the modern and powerful dreadnoughts of the III Battle Squadron. In January 1916, Admiral von Pohl became too ill to carry on as Flottenchef, and Scheer was given the command. One of his first acts was to write “Guiding Principles For Sea Warfare In The North Sea” – not exactly a “catchy” title. But he outlined the idea that the Grand Fleet should be pressured by increased submarine warfare, Zeppelin raids, and more frequent sorties by the Hochseeflotte. This would force the Grand Fleet to abandon its distant blockade and actually pursue the German fleet. The Kaiser signed-off on the memorandum on 23 February 1916 – and with that approval – Scheer would be able to use the fleet more aggressively.
Aged 52 when he took command, Scheer was known as an excellent seaman and could handle dreadnought formations as well as any man alive. He was widely regarded by his fellow officers as one of the ablest and quickest-thinking flag-officers in the Kaiserliche Marine. His vigorous and aggressive spirit was much admired and well known – even in the British Admiralty. In many ways Scheer was a very different man than Jellicoe. All they really seemed to have in common was a rapid and analytical thought process. He was energetic, active, and impatient. He wanted action – and he wanted it now. Scheer was a man that expected his staff to have detailed plans and orders for an operation – but they were often pushed aside as soon as he appeared on the bridge. He tended to command by instinct and made quick decisions. He preferred to have all options presented to him, and might then chose another option no one had considered. Scheer’s chief of staff, Admiral Adolf von Trotha, summed it up neatly...”In action he was cool and clear-headed. The pressure of Jutland showed his ability to think calmly in the midst of chaos – a great gift. And a man like that must be allowed to drive his subordinates mad.” Apparently, Admiral von Trotha had a sense of humor.
SMS Friedrich der Grosse, flagship of the Hochseeflotte at Jutland.
Kaiser Class: SMS Friedrich der Grosse - 1912, SMS Kaiserin - 1913, SMS Konig Albert - 1913, SMS Prinzregent Luitpold - 1912, SMS Kaiser – 1912
Displacement: 24,380 tons – 21 knots – 10x12-inch guns – 14x5.9-inch guns – 12x3.4-inch guns – 5x19.7-inch torpedo tubes – belt armor 13.75 inches.
Model by “Barroco Hispano”.
Admiral Of The Fleet Sir David Richard Beatty, 1st Earl Beatty, Viscount Borodale, and Baron Beatty of the North Sea and Brooksby – 1871 – 1936.
Seen here in his uniform as a Vice-Admiral – circa 1915. The picture tells you very nearly everything you need to know about the man. The tailored uniform coat, the hands in the pockets, the affected stern, tight-lipped, steely glare, the casual air of a “rake” or a “maverick”, and the cap tilted at a jaunty angle over the left eye. Say what you will – the picture is the man.
This “biographical sketch” will be a bit longer than the first two “players” – for two good reasons; (1) Beatty and his battlecruisers fought a goodly portion of the Battle of Jutland, and (2) There is simply so much more to say about an uncommonly “colorful” man.
Born in Cheshire, Beatty’s father had served with the 4th Hussars, and three brothers served in the army – but Beatty chose to join the Royal Navy at age thirteen. He left Dartmouth Naval College in 1886 – but not with distinction. He was, however, possessed of a wealth of physical courage, a love of adventure, and a natural talent for “the dramatic”. All traits that were on display when indulging in his passion for fox hunting. (A bit of a “prima donna” before the phrase had become popular.) By 1896 he had been appointed second-in-command of the Nile Flotilla accompanying General Herbert Kitchener’s expedition into the Sudan. He proved very cool in a crisis – on more than one occasion -- and even personally jettisoned an unexploded shell from his gunboat while under fire. He demonstrated his ability to improvise under pressure and went out of his way to bedevil the hostile tribesmen. He earned both the D.S.O. and Kitchener’s admiration. (Something Winston Churchill – attached to Kitchener’s staff – was unable to do.) Four years later, and promoted to commander, Beatty again distinguished himself in action during the Boxer Rebellion. Leading a naval contingent from the fleet, Beatty saw combat at Tianjin and was wounded in the left arm and wrist. His heroism won him promotion to captain at age 29 and made him a celebrated hero back home.
Returning to England, Beatty began a long, and sometimes difficult, marriage to divorcee Ethel Tree, heiress to the Marshall-Fields (Chicago) department store fortune. The marriage liberated Beatty financially, and put him on the “A-list” of guests at Edwardian house parties, allowing him to travel in the best social circles. Her money also bought him a steam yacht, an estate in the Leicestershire fox-hunting country, and a Scottish grouse moor. But it was akin to a Greek Tragedy. She was also a notorious “flirt”, and Beatty suffered “the tortures of the damned”.
Serving afloat in a variety of warships, including command of a battleship, he also rotated through a wide range of shore duties – including an appointment as Aide-de-Camp to King George V in 1908. Despite having served on several ships, his experience in command of big ships was limited, with NO experience at squadron level under his belt. Nevertheless -- Beatty was promoted rear-admiral in 1910 – the youngest officer to attain that rank in a century. Winston Churchill was appointed First Lord of the Admiralty in 1911, and regardless of warnings about Beatty’s youth and impertinence, he made the young man his naval secretary. Churchill thought he recognized a bright and rising star in a sky that was momentarily dull due to lack of war-like employment.
In 1913, command of the Battlecruiser Squadron came open – and to no one’s surprise – Churchill appointed Beatty. There were surprising similarities between the careers of Lord Nelson and David Beatty – if you chose to see them. And Churchill’s sense of the melodramatic may have unduly influenced him. Otherwise, why appoint a man with little ship handling experience and only a shaky grasp of modern naval technology and tactics? (No matter that Beatty was promoted over the heads of several senior officers.)
HMS Dreadnought had changed the face of naval warfare in 1905. By 1916, Beatty would fly his flag in HMS Lion – a 26,000 ton monster with 13.5-inch guns and capable of a remarkable 26.5 knots. Naval engagements – which Beatty had never witnessed – would now unfold much more quickly, travel at greater speed, engage at longer ranges, and fire considerably bigger shells with enormous destructive power. The battle line, itself, was no longer a compact fighting unit – with 100 yards between ships. The new dreadnoughts were 200 yards long and required an interval between ships of 400 yards to avoid collisions and provide dispersal under fire. Ship handling in the modern Royal Navy was no job for unpracticed amateurs – especially in the confusion and chaos of battle.
At the same time, signaling between ships had become a critical tool of command and control. If a ship’s wireless antennas were shot away, the only alternative was a signal lamp or flag hoists. And the very act of signaling was often carried out under near impossible conditions. When Beatty assumed command of the squadron he chose Lieutenant Ralph Seymour as his “flag lieutenant” (Admiral’s signals officer). Seymour did have aristocratic connections – and – his sister was a great friend of Churchill’s wife. “Influence” appointments were common in those days, but Beatty chose to overlook the fact that Seymour had NO experience whatever as a signals officer. This later caused a great deal of trouble.
When people spoke of Beatty – “brash”, “rash”, “reckless”, “hotheaded”, and “impetuous” – were the adjectives most often used. And more often than not, they were used by the older and cooler heads in the Admiralty. In 1914 and 1915, this sort of behavior was on full display. Beatty led the Battlecruiser Squadron in the major clashes of Heligoland Bight and Dogger Bank (among others) – and neither he, nor his captains, seemed to learn any lessons from them. Beatty had simply charged into battle with guns blazing and gave little thought to tactics and the proper employment of his technologically advanced warships. The British demonstrated clear difficulties in reporting information up the chain of command, as well as serious foul-ups in signaling, in general. British ammunition handling procedures were seriously deficient, and Beatty placed no emphasis on gunnery practice – so they rarely hit the target. And while Beatty basked in the warmth of public adoration – the mistakes and failures were ignored, and the lessons went unlearned.
After Dogger Bank, Beatty was lauded as the hero of the hour for having routed the German battlecruisers. But the reality is -- he had simply been lucky. Beatty had not prepared his squadron for modern battle. In the “old traditions” of the Royal Navy, he had not briefed his captains or prepared them with “basic fighting instructions” (as Jellicoe had done) – he merely chose to “have at the enemy” in something like an old-fashioned cavalry charge. (Follow me, Lads !) He had not been able to control his ships very well – signals were often confusing, misdirected to a given ship, or simply poorly worded by an inexperienced “flag-lieutenant”. In many cases, he failed to even make signals -- leaving his captains to guess at his intentions. The lack of gunnery practice resulted in an estimated 1% hit ratio (one out of every hundred shells fired managed to find a target). And – he very nearly lost his flagship to superior German gunnery. Beatty could lead men into battle, but he could not prepare them for it, nor could he direct them once battle was joined.
In March 1915, after Dogger Bank, Jellicoe wrote Beatty a lengthy, but discreet letter. He chose not to give the younger man a verbal thrashing – after all, Beatty had managed to sink SMS Blucher. Instead, Jellicoe opted for a diplomatically phrased word of advice and caution. Like many at the Admiralty, Jellicoe worried Beatty’s impetuous nature and total lack of caution might lead the Battlecruiser Squadron headlong into a German ambush – and a resulting disaster. He expressed the fear that Hipper’s battlecruisers might lead Beatty on a merry chase, ending when the Hochseeflotte opened fire. If there was ever an answer to Jellicoe’s letter – it has not survived the century that has passed since Jutland. And if Beatty read the letter, he certainly learned nothing from it – Hipper would prove that.
There was little doubt Britain longed for a Nelsonian hero at this hour, but there was no Nelson. The legendary Admiral had understood the capabilities of his ships, knew his gunnery to be superior to that of his enemy, and had planned his battles. More importantly -- he had prepared his captains to play their part. Beatty did not comprehend the strengths and weaknesses of his dreadnoughts, and his lack of forethought ensured they would come off a poor second to the Hochseeflotte’s gunnery. David Beatty looked and acted the dashing hero every man wanted to be, but he had no grasp of the responsibility of command, nor the necessity for control. He could lead, but he could not direct.
HMS Lion, flagship of the Battlecruiser Fleet – attached to the Grand Fleet at Jutland.
Lion Class: HMS Lion (1912) – HMS Princess Royal (1912) – HMS Queen Mary (1915)
Displacement: 26,270 tons – 27 knots – 8x13.5-inch guns – 16x4-inch guns – 15x4-inch guns – 2x21-inch torpedo tubes – belt armor 9 inches.
Model by “Barroco Hispano”.
Vizeadmiral Franz Ritter von Hipper – 1863 – 1932: seen here in his Vizeadmiral’s uniform – circa 1916.
Franz von Hipper was born in Weilheim, Oberbayern (Upper Bavaria), some 40 miles south of Munich, and his shop-keeper father died when he was just three years old. Coming from humble origins, he concentrated on an education so he could make his mark in life. At age 16, he decided to join the fledgling Imperial Navy and two years later graduated officer training. (Ludwig II – “The Mad King” – was on the throne of Bavaria.) One of his fellow classmates (class of 1881) was Wilhelm Souchon, who would go on to successful command of SMS Goeben in 1914. As a “sea cadet”, Hipper served on the old sailing frigate SMS Niobe for six months, then attended Naval Cadet School in Kiel, followed by Gunnery School on SMS Mars. Hipper returned to sea duty aboard the training ship SMS Friedrich Carl before transferring to the steam corvette SMS Leipzig for a two-year world cruise. Returning in October 1884, the young man was assigned as a divisional drill officer training recruits for the First Naval Battalion. Even in its early years, the Kaiserliche Marine was known to rotate officers in and out of various commands so they would have an excellent, all-around knowledge of the service and how it operated.
By 1898, Hipper was serving as navigator aboard the pre-dreadnought battleship SMS Kurfurst Friedrich Wilhelm, then transferred to the Imperial Yacht Hohenzollern in September 1899. While serving aboard, he was present for the trip to England for Queen Victoria’s funeral in 1901, and the cruise to America the following year. During his assignment, he was awarded the Prussian Order Of The Red Eagle, the Bavarian Military Service Order, and the Order Of St. Stanislaus (awarded by Tsar Nicholas II). Hipper was promoted to Korvettenkapitan in June 1901.
In October 1902, he was assigned to command the Second Torpedo Unit until 1905, and was promoted to Fregattenkapitan. He then attended advanced gunnery courses for cruisers and battleships. Hipper was appointed to command several cruisers in succession, and in 1907, was promoted Kapitan zur See. The same year he was in attendance during a three-day meeting between the Kaiser and the Tsar, and was awarded the Order Of St. Andrew by the Tsar. In 1908, Hipper took command of the First Torpedo Boat Division for a period of three years, during which he trained more than half of the torpedo boats in the Kaiserliche Marine.
October 1911 saw Hipper take command of the armored cruiser SMS Yorck and also assume the position of chief of staff to Konteradmiral Gustav Bachmann, Deputy Flag Officer, Reconnaissance Forces. In January 1912, Hipper became Deputy Commander, Reconnaissance Forces and was promoted to Konteradmiral. In October 1913, Hipper was appointed to command the 1st Scouting Group of the Hochseeflotte – a position he would fulfill with distinction.
At age 50, Konteradmiral Franz Hipper rose to the command of a unit that would become legendary in the annals of naval history – and would make him famous as well. He worked the 1st Scouting Group hard – even in peacetime – training them in ship handling, squadron maneuvers, and especially gunnery. Hipper was practical and produced results. He knew guns were useless if you couldn’t hit the target, and his crews worked hard to earn the Kaiser’s prized shooting trophy. His men came to have complete confidence in him and his abilities.
Not all naval officers responded to fast ships and tended to handle them like the lumbering battleships of the battle line. But Hipper was different, and quite unusual for a senior German officer. There was something of the “buccaneer” in him, and he reveled in the big cruisers speed and big guns. He understood them – understood how they were meant to work -- and knew how to use them. He was completely confident he had the skill to take them anywhere they were needed, and do whatever was required of them.
Hipper never took a Staff College course and disliked theoretical speculation. Instead, he took in large amounts of information in a short time and retained it all – making decisions without hesitation. His operations were planned carefully, taking into account a wide range of factors – especially intelligence gathered by U-boats and Zeppelins. Hipper thought fast on his feet and proved to be a cool customer under fire. He was a gifted tactician with quick perception and a keen “seaman’s eye”. He got the most out of his ships, and kept tight control of his squadron when in combat. Hipper’s flagship always led the column and he took risks – but they were calculated risks. He handled the big battlecruisers like squadrons of heavy cavalry, and the man hand nerves of steel.
Hipper was known to be energetic and hard working – but loathed paperwork and was quite content to leave that to his staff. He was well-liked by his subordinates and treated his staff with courtesy and great kindness. He was all business when at sea, but often sent his aides to sleep or eat when he had done neither. His personal modesty and cordial friendliness made him much loved by his men. He trained his crews hard and often, and respected officers that ran taught ships, but aboard SMS Seydlitz, when the crew saluted him – they were happy to do so.
SMS Lutzow, flagship of the 1st Scouting Group – attached to the Hochseeflotte at Jutland.
Derfflinger Class: SMS Derfflinger (1914) – SMS Lutzow (1915) – SMS Hindenburg (1917)
Displacement: 26,180 tons – 27 knots – 8x12-inch guns – 14x5.9-inch guns – 4x19.7-inch torpedo tubes – belt armor 12 inches.
Model courtesy of "Barroco Hispano".
NEXT TIME……
AN INNOCUOUS LITTLE
STEAMER
Again, my apologies……
I have been unable to create very many in-game pictures to cover the text of this chapter, so we will continue our tour of Cuxhaven……
This is another view of the West Loch of the Cuxhaven Dockyards. A first glance shows six ships moored to buoys in the center of the roadsted. As mentioned in Chapter 28, this small squadron of two armored cruisers and two light cruisers will be accompanied by two colliers on the long voyage to Imperial Germany’s China Station, in Tsingtau. They will significantly increase Germany’s power and influence in the region.
Starting at the “tail” of the line you see the modern armored cruiser SMS Gneisenau, preparing to take aboard stores and provisions. Moored ahead of her is SMS Scharnhorst (flagship). (For details on these pictures, see Chapter 7.) The big armored cruisers are by “AP”.
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Moored ahead of the armored cruisers are two light cruisers of the Jurien de la Graviere Class. These are French cruisers, but I selected them because...(1) they were active prior to, and during WW I...(2) I wanted to provide a bit of variety to the cruiser mix – the number of German cruiser models available was somewhat limited...and (3) they are quite interesting in their appearance. To their port side, you see two moored colliers that will accompany the squadron.
https://i.imgur.com/DYGnYGs.jpg[/i
This is a very handsome, and highly detailed model, provided by @Barroco Hispano, and is indicative of French naval architecture of the period. The French navy was distinctive for the numerous funnels aboard their ships – and unique in the way they tended to separate them into groups. Displacement was 6,175 tons – 22.8 knots – 8x6.5-inch guns -- 10x1.9-inch Hotchkiss guns -- 6x1.5-inch guns -- 2x18-inch torpedo tubes. The only armor amounted to a 1.77-inch deck, a 3.9-inch conning tower, and 2.8-inch gun shields. Technically, she was a “protected cruiser”. The main armament is arranged in two single, shielded gun mounts fore and aft, with six more guns mounted amidships in sponsoned hull casemates (shown here with the armored shutters open). An Odin Class tug is seen nudging a lighter of provisions alongside – courtesy of “AP”.
In this view of Jurien de la Graviere you can see the extremely fine lines of her hull. She had a length to width ration of nearly 9 to 1 – giving her a clean and extremely hydrodynamic hull form. Unfortunately, her hull was constructed of light frames and scantlings, which caused violent vibrations at her cruising speed of 10 knots. These vibrations frequently broke voice tubes and boiler piping.
This very handsome collier is the SS Erlangen, and @AP has done wonders with the old girl. From the weathered hull, to the rusty brown forecastle deck plating, and the soot-smudged funnels – she is every bit a worn and over-worked collier from the early years of the 20th Century. Note the details on the ship’s boats, the weathered texture of the fantail awning, and the detailed rendering of the cargo booms. Colliers were an essential element to the operation of warships of this era, and we could not possibly have left them out. Erlangen represents a Norddeutscher Line collier that would have been leased by the Imperial Navy to provide coal for the warships on their way to China. Germany relied heavily on leased colliers, mostly from neutral nations, since they only had small naval commitments abroad. In peacetime, the Hochseeflotte rarely ventured into the Atlantic – and never beyond Norwegian or Spanish waters. In wartime – the battle fleet confined its operations to the North Sea.
This is another view showing the unusually fine lines designed into this collier. SS Erlangen was based on the US Navy’s Prometheus Class colliers, and they were chosen for their modern features, as well as their unusually clean and handsome lines not found in other colliers. She displaced approximately 9,000 tons, was 466 feet in length, was capable of 16 knots, and could carry an estimated 7,000 tons of coal. Once the squadron arrives at Tsingtau, Erlangen will obtain another cargo – possibly in Yokohama or Nagasaki – and work her way back to Germany.
The unusual ship in the center is the USS Proteus, name ship of a class of four colliers built for the US Navy in the early 1900’s. Commissioned in 1913, she displaced 19,000 tons, had a speed of 15 knots, and could carry 8,000 tons of coal. She was purpose-built as a collier by the Newport News Shipbuilding & Dry Dock Company. I chose this ship to represent colliers built specifically to operate as naval auxiliaries. The US Navy chose not to rely exclusively on leased colliers, largely due to the vast stretches of the Pacific Ocean, and their reluctance to be at the political mercy of neutral nations. Naval engineers drew her plans specifically to be able to handle two warships at the same time – and as quickly as possible. I also chose Proteus because her design is unique among all the colliers.
This is another view of Proteus, this one showing her extremely long and narrow hull. It can easily be seen the midship’s portion of the hull is entirely occupied by coal storage holds, and cargo derricks designed to disburse the cargo in a speedy and efficient manner. The aft portion of the ship contains the engines, boilers, ship’s galley, Mess and Ward rooms, and the officer’s quarters.
This view of Proteus’ bow shows the “conning bridge” of the ship. It is a very spartan arrangement, just big enough to hold the watch officer, a helmsman, perhaps the captain, and a couple of ratings. The bridge has been raised above the deck to allow heavy seas to pass beneath. The skylights in the forecastle deck are designed to allow light into the crew quarters below. These may look like small quarters, but it must be remembered, Proteus is not a warship and was crewed by only 158 officers and men. This view also allows close examination of the working booms and derricks installed between the cargo hatches. “AP” scratch-built this unique model and went to great lengths to make sure the complicated derrick system, and all its lines and rigging, have been duplicated properly.
Here you have a detail shot of the aft superstructure -- such as it is. Please note the overhead crane gantry rigged over the two aft coal hatches (white), and four “reddish” hatch covers on the aft superstructure. This system is designed to bring coal from the two holds forward and deposit it in the four aft hatch openings to feed the boiler room coal bunkers. The two funnels placed side-by-side is an arrangement not commonly found on modern ships. You will also note a raised aft steering bridge extends the width of the ship at the fantail. All in all – great effort had gone into the design of the Proteus Class ships – and resulted in the simplified elegance of a rather large floating coal pile. The small machinery and crew spaces have been subordinated to the purpose of getting the coal where it needs to go. And “AP’s” wonderfully detailed model has captured every aspect of that simple elegance. (The Proteus Class collier prop-packs are available in the STEX -- "Historic Navies: 1900 -- Pack #28.)
I cannot leave you without mentioning the “Twilight Zone” aspect of the Proteus colliers. During WW I, USS Cyclops, a sister-ship of Proteus, was known to have been in Barbados in March 1918 -- bound for Bermuda. She never reached Bermuda and was never seen again, nor has her wreckage ever been located. She is best remembered as one of the “ghost ships” of “The Bermuda Triangle”.
During WW II (10 December 1941) USS Nereus, another of the Proteus Class, sailed from St. Thomas in the Virgin Islands bound for Bermuda (sailing the same sea lane Cyclops had taken). She never arrived in Bermuda and was presumed to have been torpedoed by a German U-Boat. But surviving U-Boat war diaries do not claim any such sinking. It is possible a submarine sank the collier, and was lost soon after -- but there is no record of a lost U-Boat near the area at that time. The wreck of USS Nereus has never been located.
Did “The Bermuda Triangle” claim two sister-ships in two different World Wars?
Only Rod Serling could answer that question…...
MANY THANKS to @Barroco Hispano for his beautiful warship models.
SPECIAL THANKS to my friend and partner, @AP, for his talents and extreme dedication.
If you enjoyed anything – please punch the “like” button so WE will know. A comment would be even more informative.
Comments and critiques requested and gratefully accepted. All questions answered promptly to the best of our ability.
THANK YOU for your visit!
You may wish to visit these CJ’s as well……
SERIES I:
IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: WILHELMSHAVEN
SERIES II:
IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: CUXHAVEN
Appearing – Work In Publication
SERIES III:
IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: BREMERHAVEN
Appearing -- ???
And please feel free to drop in at…
THE SIMTROPOLIS SHIPYARD
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