Search the Community

IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: CUXHAVEN By: Dreadnought & AP Chapter 50: THE PHOTO TOUR 06 THE WEST LOCH – Part 06 This chapter will wrap-up our tour of the West Loch – with a look at the permanent berths along the breakwater. There are, basically, two types of harbors in the world – “natural” and “man-made”. The natural harbor is just that – a terrain feature created by nature that is large enough and deep enough to accommodate large ships, while sheltering them from the ill-effects of stormy seas. Examples of a natural harbor might be Oslo, Norway, the Thames Estuary, or New York. A man-made harbor is usually found on an open, exposed stretch of shoreline with no surrounding land features to block the wave action caused by heavy seas. An offshore breakwater has to be constructed to provide an area of calm water behind it. That is exactly what was done in the West Loch. The original shallow bay was too small to accommodate numbers of large ships, so the breakwater was constructed offshore to create a sufficiently large safe anchorage. This is a clear view of the breakwater constructed to form the renovated West Loch anchorage. The engineers saved a few Marks by using the only natural island as part of the breakwater. It was later decided to add permanent mooring points along the breakwater to accommodate the growing numbers of armored cruisers. The Kaiserliche Marine traditionally favored permanent mooring arrangements, usually at quays and docks, but could not afford the expense of building numerous new docks – so “mooring points” became the alternative. (By contrast, the Royal Navy, long before Nelson’s day, chose to anchor far offshore -- in the Solent and the Thames Estuary. Unbelievably large numbers of British tars could not swim, so it was a simple means of preventing sailors from “jumping ship”.) Here is a closer look at the join between the breakwater and the island. As already mentioned, these breakwaters are by “Uki”. It is a Japanese website, but the lots are in common usage in SC4 and should be readily obtainable. I tested every available breakwater set and settled on these because they were (for the most part) easy to work with and are certainly the most realistic available. You will notice two light cruisers have been moored at a temporary buoy just off the island. Moored at the buoy offshore of the island are the light cruisers SMS Karlsruhe and her sister ship Konigsburg. They were commissioned in 1915 and were among the most modern in the Hochseeflotte. German light cruisers were widely known to be handled aggressively, and at 27.5 knots and packing eight 5.9-inch guns – they were fast with a formidable “bite”. The cruiser models were generously provided by @Barroco Hispano. This is the same scene from a different angle. This gives you a close-up detail shot of how the island has been put together. The basic land mass was created by raising the land level some 15 meters above sea level (about 45 meters above the seabed). I gave the island an irregular shape to make it more “natural”, then used the “God Mode” tools to lower some of it below sea level. Once the rough shape was achieved, I used the “softening tool” to give it a smooth, rounded look with gently sloping sides that ease down into the water. I then applied a scattering of various bushes and ground cover. This was followed by MMP trees by @Girafe. The “earthen” areas were painted with “Heblem” brown sand, and the light gray sand – which actually looks more like loose gravel. Finally, I dotted the underwater areas with “Girafe” cattails and feather grass. It took the best part of an afternoon and evening to finish the island – very tedious and a lot of “trial and error” – but I think it was worth it. The most difficult part of building the island and the breakwater was finding a way to bring the breakwater ashore. The “Uki” set does not include a specialized piece that merges the breakwater with the shore line. Apparently he thought offshore breakwaters were sufficient and there was no need to attach them to land. The “Uki” pieces are placed at sea level – no higher, and no lower. If you try to bring it ashore on a raised land area – it jumps up and towers over the other breakwater pieces out in the ocean. So the secret is to lower the land below sea level (like digging a small trench) where it comes ashore – while matching the height of the offshore breakwater pieces. Then you can cover the “watery ditch” with large rocks, small stones, and overhanging trees that will cover up the “join area”. It’s not a perfect solution to the visual problem – things always look different when you change camera angles – but it was the best I could do. The rocks and stones are by either “PEG” or “NBVC” – I think – I could be wrong about that. One last view of the island. This is the armored cruiser SMS Yorck (not to be confused with the later battlecruiser class). You will notice there is a “change-of-command” ceremony in progress on the forecastle deck. You will also notice the boat boom and small boats deployed on the port quarter. The boom and boats were lotted as a stand-alone lot designed to be plopped alongside any warship you like. Model by AP. (Complete details on the armored cruiser can be found in Chapter 06.) The armored cruisers SMS Prinz Adalbert and Friedrich Carl. (For full details on the armored cruisers – see Chapter 05.) This beautifully rendered model of SMS Furst Bismarck is being nudged into the berth by two tugs – Nordwind on the left – and the more modern Passat on the right. All three are the meticulous work of @AP. (Details on Furst Bismarck are in Chapter 03.) SMS Hertha and Hansa, both painted in “foreign station” livery. The two protected cruisers spent most of their service life on the China Station. You will note Hansa is lowering a manned cutter over the side, while a small dinghy is unloading boxes of supplies up forward. Cruisers by “AP”. (Details can be found in Chapter 02.) Another view of the protected cruisers. NEXT TIME…… CUXHAVEN: THE PHOTO TOUR 07 MANY THANKS to @Barroco Hispano for his beautiful warship models. SPECIAL THANKS to my friend and partner, @AP, for his talents, meticulous models, colorful imagination, 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 https://community.simtropolis.com/forums/topic/761469-simtropolis-shipyard/?tab=comments#comment-1766496

IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: CUXHAVEN By: Dreadnought & AP Chapter 49: THE PHOTO TOUR 05 THE WEST LOCH – Part 05 This chapter will cover some of the activity out in the roadsted of the West Loch. Like most harbors -- even small ones – there are assigned berths, usually around the edges of the open water areas. Out in the open waters there will always be mooring buoys for ships temporarily assigned to the squadron, just arrived and needing replenishment before berthing, or those preparing to sail. This overview shows the open water area in the center of the roadsted. The six ships moored to temporary buoys are part of an eight ship squadron being assembled for transfer to the German East Asiatic Squadron. The two Dresden Class light cruisers tied-up at the repair dock also belong to the squadron. The two large armored cruisers (Scharnhorst left – Gneisenau right) are Germany’s newest and most powerful cruisers and will constitute the strongest European cruiser force in the Far East. (See Chapter 07 for full details.) You will notice they have been painted in their “foreign station” livery – white hulls, yellow ochre upper works, and black funnel caps. They are beehives of activity as last minute preparations for sailing are completed. Gneisenau was abruptly recalled from diplomatic port calls to join the squadron and is in the process of taking aboard last minute stores and provisions. The crane barge is transferring cargo from another barge alongside. Forgive me for taking a hasty picture – there should be cargo on the barge – but it’s a “timed prop”, and I forgot. The crane barge and cargo barge were borrowed from “PEG’s Bubba’s Bulk Barge”. The white steam tug was “gifted” by “WolfZe”. The two paddle tugs handling the big cargo barge are the fine work of “AP” – as are the two small boats rowing out to the armored cruiser – no doubt the crews last mail delivery before sailing. Gneisenau is also the impeccable work of "AP". This shot gives you an excellent view of the detail on “AP’s” paddle tug (Esmeralda). I’m really quite fond of these little beauties, and I try to work them into as many scenes as possible. In this shot, you can actually see the cargo on the barge – and you will notice the sailors “working cargo” as they stand atop the crates. I tried to put sailors on the crane barge, but some of those old PEG models have horrible LOD problems. This view of Gneisenau’s fantail shows the crew carrying boxes and crates down the aft hatch – which indicates provisions and supplies for the officer’s wardroom – or possibly the Kapitan’s pantry. This also gives you another view of the excellent detail built into “AP’s” armored cruiser – absolutely flawless. SMS Scharnhorst is the flagship of Konteradmiral Maximillian von Spee, ordered to assume command of the East Asiatic Squadron upon arrival in the Far East. She and Gneisenau constituted a two-ship class. In this shot, a motor launch is alongside to port, while the boat boom is deployed on the starboard side. The mooring buoy, motor launch, boat boom, and small boats are courtesy of “AP”. Port side view. The Scharnhorst Class armored cruisers have been touted by many analysts as the most handsome armored cruisers ever built. But – other analysts claim that honor for the USS Tennessee Class armored cruisers. This a close-up of the magnificent detail worked into AP’s model. Notice the compass platform between the fourth funnel and the aft mast. The motor launch pulling alongside is probably carrying last minute mail for the crew as well as dispatches, directives, and even diplomatic pouches bound for the Far East. Kaiserliche Marine ships transiting to the Far East were often used as “mail” ships, making frequent stops along the way to deliver official correspondence. On Scharnhorst’s starboard side, the boat boom has been deployed. The boom was a common feature of the era and provided a convenient mooring point for small boats going to and from the cruiser – avoiding the laborious necessity of continually launching and hoisting the boats inboard. The boat boom and the boats tied to it are arranged on a single 1x1 lot plopped adjacent to the ship. The two boats approaching the boom are on another 1x1 lot. Moored ahead of the armored cruisers are two French light cruisers of the Jurien de la Graviere Class. I elected to use them in the scenario because the number of German cruiser models available was somewhat limited. The de la Graviere’s were, in fact, active prior to, and during WW I, and are quite interesting in their appearance. The Jurien de la Graviere Class cruisers are indicative of French naval architecture of the period -- distinctive for the numerous funnels aboard their ships – and unique in the way they tended to separate them into groups. (For more details on Graviere, see Chapter 27.) The Jurien de la Gravier model was graciously provided by @Barroco Hispano and you can see the intricate detailing in the level of clutter displayed amidships. The main armament sponsoned outboard from the hull is carefully portrayed with the armored port shields in the “open” position – perhaps a minor point – but very realistic. This is the SS Erlangen, a collier leased from the Norddeutscher Shipping Line, which will accompany the Squadron on their journey to the Far East. (For the back-story and details, see Chapter 27.) This model is a beautiful scratch-built rendition created by @AP and is modeled after the US Navy Prometheus Class colliers. 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. The detail and texturing are simply superb. Though based on a US Navy collier, she has all of the characteristics found in other colliers of the period, and has the fine lines of the original design. Center stage in this shot is USS Proteus, name ship of a class of four colliers built for the US Navy in the early 1900’s as commissioned naval auxiliaries. (For the back-story and details, see Chapter 27.) The Kaiserliche Marine relied almost entirely upon the Norddeutscher Line for collier support, but I chose this vessel to represent “government-owned” colliers, largely because her design is unique among all the colliers. Notice all the activity going on around the moored collier – the berthed cruisers at the top, tugs and lighters coming and going, and small boats moving around the harbor. Again – the theory of the “busy harbor” – taken from old photos of Hamburg, Wilhelmshaven, Rotterdam, and even New York, -- crowded, cluttered, and above all – busy. This is a close-up of Proteus’ aft superstructure, which has a great deal of detail packed into a small area. The main purpose of the ship was to carry a lot of coal, and her designers kept that in mind. Once again, “AP” has created a beautiful scratch-built model based on photos and line drawings – complete with a detailed operational rig of the coaling booms. This model was particularly satisfying for me because “AP” brought to life many of the details photos didn’t, and 2-D line drawings couldn’t. You have, doubtless, noticed the ever-present “seagulls”. I have never found a harbor or an inland waterway without them – so I developed a special 1x1 lot using the Maxis “seagull effect”. The lot can be plopped on the seabed, thereby avoiding the need to place them in fixed locations ashore. This is a shot of the Protected Cruiser SMS Victoria Louise putting to sea through the north entrance of the breakwater. (See Chapter 02 for full details on the ship.) The Victoria Louise Class were small cruisers by later standards, but she made a fabulously detailed model in “AP’s” talented hands. There were five ships in all, and this one is painted in ”foreign station” livery – representing three of the original ships that served overseas. She is equipped with a “stern walk” – indicating her intended use as a foreign station flagship. It is a handsome model with a wealth of faithfully rendered detail. NEXT TIME…… CUXHAVEN: THE PHOTO TOUR 06 MANY THANKS to @Barroco Hispano for his beautiful warship models. SPECIAL THANKS to my friend and partner, @AP, for his talents, meticulous models, colorful imagination, 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 https://community.simtropolis.com/forums/topic/761469-simtropolis-shipyard/?tab=comments#comment-1766496

IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: CUXHAVEN By: Dreadnought & AP Chapter 46: THE PHOTO TOUR 02 THE WEST LOCH – Part 02 In this chapter we will take a close look at the birthing arrangements of the screening destroyers of the 3rd Scouting Group. First – let me deal with a small historical issue. If you have been following the story line of the CJ, you will be aware the Kaiserliche Marine did not have destroyers – strictly speaking. During The Great War Era, the Royal Navy viewed hostile torpedo boats as a serious threat to their massive battle fleet. Consequently, they chose to increase the gun armament of their torpedo boats, and reclassify them as “destroyers” -- employed largely in a defensive role to protect the capital ships from enemy torpedo boats. On the other hand, the Kaiserliche Marine designed torpedo boats with a heavy torpedo armament and sufficient guns to deal with the British destroyers. The Germans employed their torpedo boats aggressively -- as dual purpose weapons – able to protect their capital ships from submarines and enemy destroyers, while seizing every opportunity to attack the enemy battle line. I just wanted to explain that point before I started showing you pictures of a German harbor – with American destroyers – which played a very small part in the war. Why-? Because I have an excellent model of a destroyer from the period, which was a great design in its’ day. This is an overview of the destroyer berths in the West Loch. You can see they are just across the loch from the Replenishment Docks mentioned in the last chapter. They have their own docks, complete with storage, supply, and administrative infrastructure. Like nearly every naval base during the era, the boats are “nested” by “division” – in this case, a three-ship section. This is the standard German flotilla, composed of twelve boats. I apologize right now for a miscalculation on my part – I made the West Loch too small. Based on the size of the 3rd Scouting Group, it should have two flotillas – one to scout ahead of the armored cruisers, and one to screen them from submarine attack. Another view of the nested destroyers – as seen from the south. In the left top corner, you can see some of the other activity going on out in the harbor. A Helena Class steam paddle tug is towing a lighter loaded with ship’s stores, headed for the warships moored along the breakwater. You will, of course, note the two models are diagonal – another one of our objectives. “AP” and I wanted to add as much diagonal material to the game as possible, though it is often hard to insert diagonal models into what is, basically, an ortho-configured game grid. Fortunately, ships are well suited to diagonal deployment. This view gives you a very good look – end to end -- at the dockside infrastructure. History books tell you all about the ships and their exploits -- and sometimes about the men who manned them – but they never mention the extensive support facilities ashore that provide the day-to-day, mundane, house-keeping facilities that support the ships and crews afloat. In the upper right of the picture, the small freighter MS Mowe can be seen. In this view, you can see how the harbor shore has been carefully re-built to accommodate docks for the destroyers. When torpedo boats and destroyers were first introduced in the various navies of the world, they were new and untried additions to existing fleets. They were an afterthought – and room for them had to be found – somewhere. At first, the few torpedo boats and destroyers built for the fleet were simply moored out in the roadsted, but eventually that became crowded. In this shot, what had been a natural shoreline, was dredged, built-up, lined with seawalls, and backed-up with support facilities for the destroyers. This is a close-up of the steam paddle tug Helena towing a lighter filled with boxes and crates of assorted ship’s stores. @AP has poured his skills into creating this beautiful little tug in great historical detail, and no effort was spared on the lighter. The lighter could have been a simple flat-decked barge, with minimal detailing. But we researched the lighters in use in the early 1900’s and “AP” took the time and put in the effort to make each one of them a tiny “work of art”. In the upper right, you can see two of his small boats rowing out to cruisers moored to buoys in the roadsted. Here is a detail shot of “AP’s” MS Mowe making for the Replenishment Docks to unload her cargo. This small freighter is typical of the hundreds of nondescript coastal traders working European waters between 1880 and into the early 1950’s. They carried every imaginable cargo to every port – large or small – that you could dream of. Now we’re going to go back and look at the destroyer docks in some detail – starting from the right end and working north toward the Repair Docks. This is an overview of the right end, showing the two eastern-most docks, their infrastructure, and the Fender Storage Depot. In the center of the picture, you see several older warehouses given over to the maintenance, repair, and storage of the mooring fenders (sometimes referred to as “Atlantic Fenders”.) If a fender is damaged during use, it is returned to this complex to be repaired – while a new fender is loaded onto a truck and taken to the necessary dock as a replacement. A small mobile crane is used to move the fenders since they can be quite heavy. You can see a variety of large and small fenders, with a work detail preparing to load several onto the back of a truck. Other sailors are at work in the yard, sorting fenders, checking them for wear, and tagging them for repair or refurbishing. Down near the docks, you see a formation of sailors that have come ashore and are being mustered for various work details. Around them sailors are already busy moving barrels and crates, while others are carrying boxes and heading for the dock to take them aboard their ship. On the next pier, we see a variety of details. The small office on the right is an administrative office – each destroyer division has one. The O.O.D. (Officer Of The Day) has a duty station here while the Division Commander has an office. Next door is a small warehouse/work shop with balk timber stacked in front. (You would be surprised to know just how much wood was carried aboard ships for temporary repairs at sea.) A detail of sailors is sorting it out for use by the ship’s carpenters. Across the road, a variety of crates and canisters have been stored next to a lot littered with boxes, barrels, fenders, and the odd spare anchor. Near the water tower, a work detail is transferring boxes from a truck to a jeep, which will distribute them to the various docks. First – let me apologize for the modern shipping containers – especially the one with the “P&O” logo. I was using the “IRM Industrial” filler lots and it was handy. I would have substituted small wooden storage sheds, but I had considerable difficulty locating any. It was only much later that I stumbled across the perfect storage building. In the upper right, you can see a work crew loading trucks with lubricating oil. Much like the big steam locomotives of the era, the propulsion machinery in warships had hundreds of moving parts and required copious amounts of lubricating oil. Among the engine room gang there were numbers of men specifically assigned as “oilers”. Just left of center, you can see VIP’s arriving at the dock. Their jeeps are parked in the road with the drivers and officers milling about. A “side party” of sailors has been laid on to greet the dignitary, while the ship’s “presence board” is displayed near the road, and their “ceremonial Kisbee” is set up on the left side of the dock with two sailors standing at “parade rest”. The Admiral commanding Scouting Forces and his staff are approaching the dock to inspect the ships of the 2nd Destroyer Division. In this scene, you can see a detail of sailors taking boxes off a truck to be carried aboard ship. Another detail is using a forklift to move crates around beside the water tower. And, there are not one – not two – but three Quonset Huts visible in the picture. The first Quonset Huts were, oddly enough, deployed in Quonset Point, Rhode Island, in 1941. They are not WW I era buildings – but they are nearly identical to the “Nissen Hut” prefabricated kits built in Great Britain for use on the Western Front during The Great War. USS CLEMSON CLASS Destroyer Displacement: 1,215 tons – Length: 314 feet – Beam: 31 feet – Draft: 9 feet – Propulsion: Geared Steam Turbines – Speed: 35.5 knots – Range: 4,900 miles – Complement: 8 Officers, 8 Chief Petty Officers, 106 enlisted men – Armament: 4x4-inch guns – 1x3-inch Anti-aircraft gun – 12x21-inch torpedo tubes. This is a close-up look at the destroyers. The US Navy Clemson Class ships were descended through a long line of development beginning around 1903, with the preceding Sampson, Caldwell, and Wickes Classes being very similar in appearance and actually seeing service in WW I. The 156 ships in this class were built in nine different shipyards, from Mare Island, San Francisco. to Bath Iron Works in Maine. They were lean and fast ships mounting four funnels, with a heavy torpedo armament – often referred to as “flush-decked four-pipers”. In 1940, about 20 of these ships (The total deal was for 50 destroyers.) would be transferred to Great Britain in the “Destroyers For Bases Agreement” and were renamed “Town Class” ships. The Superb Clemson model courtesy of @Barroco Hispano. Another view of the offshore traffic in the West Loch roadsted. Another view of the Admiral’s party approaching the 2nd Destroyer Division dock. NEXT TIME…… CUXHAVEN: THE PHOTO TOUR 03 MANY THANKS to @Barroco Hispano for his beautiful warship models. SPECIAL THANKS to my friend and partner, @AP, for his talents, meticulous models, colorful imagination, 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 https://community.simtropolis.com/forums/topic/761469-simtropolis-shipyard/?tab=comments#comment-1766496

The Grand Fleet steaming NW in line-ahead formation -- full daylight on 2 June 1916. IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: CUXHAVEN By: Dreadnought & AP Chapter 39: THE REMAINS OF THE DAY: THE AFTERMATH OF BATTLE The sun rises early in northern latitudes, and as the misty dawn crept above the eastern horizon on 1 June 1916, Vice-Admiral David Beatty’s Battlecruiser Fleet sighted their first German. Lookouts aboard HMS Lion spotted the Zeppelin L-11 as she dipped below the cloud base around 03:30. Nearly as long as a dreadnought, the big airship received a warm reception as Beatty’s ships opened fire – some with their main battery guns. The German air crew reacted quickly, released water ballast, and took their fragile craft back into the clouds. Beatty assumed the airship was scouting ahead of the Hochseeflotte and signaled “clear for action”. But the minutes ticked by with nothing more to be seen. The Battlecruiser Fleet was alone in the choppy waters of the North Sea. (L-11 would stumble into the Grand Fleet a few minutes to the NW, receive the same “hot” reception, and report both encounters to Scheer before being ordered back to Nordholz aerodrome.) Some miles to the north, at 02:47, a heavy mist settled over the sea with the first touch of dawn, and Vice-Admiral John Jellicoe, hopeful of finding the enemy, signaled his fleet to form “line-ahead” battle formation. While the dreadnoughts maneuvered into line, the C.-in-C. set about signaling his light cruiser squadrons and destroyer flotillas to close the battle fleet and assume their assigned stations. The various elements of the Grand Fleet had become disoriented during the night – while SMS Westfalen had scattered and mauled destroyer flotillas much like a fox among barnyard chickens. Jellicoe intended to close Horns Reef and intercept Scheer. About the same time Beatty fired on the Zeppelin, HMS Iron Duke took in a signal from the Admiralty. The Hochseeflotte’s position had been fixed by wireless direction-finding stations an hour earlier (02:30) – 30 miles NE of Iron Duke on a SES course, estimated speed 16 knots – just one hour’s steaming from Horns Reef. The signalman delivered the message to Flag Captain Dreyer on the bridge. Having read it, he shook his head and climbed the ladder to the Admiral’s bridge. Jellicoe read the message with no show of emotion whatsoever. He merely handed the message back...”This signal makes it painfully evident that by no possible means can I catch Scheer before he reaches port – even if I disregard the danger of following him through the minefields…” Jellicoe ordered Dreyer to recall the battlecruisers and alter course for Horns Reef – on the off chance he might snap-up a few German stragglers as he passed by. Jellicoe had trapped Scheer and beaten him – twice – but the sun went down before he could finish the job. In the end, Scheer outmaneuvered and outwitted Jellicoe and escaped the well-laid trap. By sunrise, 2 June, Beatty’s Battlecruiser Fleet was back in Rosyth, Jerram’s 2nd Battle Squadron anchored off Cromarty around 09:00, and the bulk of the Grand Fleet was safely tucked-up in Scapa Flow by noon. But there was little rest to be had. The Fleet took on coal, oil, and ammunition – and, as an afterthought -- a few fresh provisions. At 21:45 that evening, Jellicoe telegraphed London to inform the Admiralty the Grand Fleet was, in all respects, ready for sea. Capital ships of the Grand Fleet lying at anchor in Scapa Flow. The 15-inch gun battleship HMS Revenge is front and center. Around 03:00 1 June, Vizeadmiral Franz von Hipper stood quietly on the bridge of SMS Moltke, the only remaining combat-ready battlecruiser. He held his duty-station ahead of the Hochseeflotte, leading the main body past Horns Reef and toward the Amrum Bank Passage. They would soon pass inshore of the German minefields. Due to the severe damage suffered by SMS Derfflinger and Von der Tann, Scheer ordered them to assemble on Moltke and run into Wilhelmshaven. (SMS Seydlitz was still afloat, but lagging far behind.). As Derfflinger and Von der Tann steamed ahead -- SMS Ostfriesland ran onto a mine. (It was not the minefield Jellicoe had ordered HMS Abdiel to sow – it was another field she had sown a month earlier.) Though considerably damaged, Ostfriesland was able to maintain her place in line. SMS Moltke led the remaining battlecruisers past the outer Jade light ship and anchored in Wilhelmshaven Roads at 14:50. Once the tide came in Derfflinger was able to transit the locks and the Panzerkreuzer ran into the southern harbor basin around 17:15 – badly battered – but covered in Glory and Legend. Vizeadmiral Scheer watched Hipper’s battlecruisers steam off to the south. He would hold the fleet, temporarily, between Horns Reef and the Amrum Bank while he waited for the tide to come in. SMS Konig had led the battle fleet into the gun sights of the Grand Fleet twice, and paid the price. Several large caliber hits (probably 15-inch) badly holed her forward causing serious flooding. Kapitan Bruninghaus had to counter-flood to keep her on an even keel, resulting in the ship taking on 1,600 tons of water. She was down by the bow and forced to wait for the tide (09:30) before trying to navigate Amrum Bank Passage. The fleet eventually cleared Amrum Bank, and a little past midday, Konteradmiral Mauve’s II Battle Squadron was detached for the Elbe River and Cuxhaven. The five old pre-dreadnoughts dropped anchor in Altenbruch Roads around 14:25. After having to beg to be included in the battle fleet’s sortie – and having lost SMS Pommern – the old pre-dreadnoughts had twice steamed into harm’s way to save Hipper’s crippled battlecruisers. They had earned their battle honors. And now every man that crewed the “five-minute-ships” could stand proudly and say...”We were at the battle!” And no one could take that from them. In the gasthauses of old Cuxhaven there would be many stories to tell this night, much beer, and toasts to missing shipmates. As Scheer approached Schillig Roads, five battleships of I Battle Squadron were detached to stand guard. Scheer worried the British might choose this moment to launch a raid on Wilhelmshaven. The remainder of the Hochseeflotte steamed up the deep-water channel to anchor off Wilhelmshaven and wait for the tide to pass through the locks. By 06:30 the following morning (2 June), it was all over – except for the tidying-up. (As an interesting sidelight -- before the battle, Konteradmiral Behncke had made a quick tour of SMS Konig to deliver some words of encouragement to the crew, and the ship’s cat – “Max” – began to follow him. “Max” was a rather large, long-haired, part Norwegian Forest Cat (orange or ginger) with the remainder of his parentage unknown – and he had always had the run of the ship. When Konig finally came to anchor in Wilhelmshaven Roads one of the cook’s assistants thought to feed Max, but he could not be found. Word went around the dreadnought and an informal search was conducted – without success. He was later found in the only place no one had dared to look, the Admiral’s day cabin off the bridge – curled into a neat ball on the Admiral’s cot – sound asleep.) The Hochseeflotte moored quayside in Wilhelmshaven after the battle. Some ships went into dry dock, others made minor repairs and replenished provisions, ammunition, and coal. “The whole situation was difficult to grasp, as I had no real idea of what was going on and we could hardly see anything except flashes of guns, shells falling, ships blowing up, and an occasional glimpse of an enemy vessel…” That is the best one-sentence summary of the Battle of Jutland ever written – and it was in Admiral Jellicoe’s report to the Admiralty. And like the telegram reporting the fleet ready for sea, it may have mollified the Admiralty, but it hardly covered the myriad of details and what followed. Despite the enormous numerical advantage held by the British, the Grand Fleet had been knocked about a bit. Of the 28 British dreadnoughts present at Jutland, 5 were damaged to varying degrees. Of the 9 battlecruisers at Jutland, 3 were sunk and 4 damaged. The official British warship losses at Jutland: Battlecruisers: Queen Mary – Indefatigable – Invincible Battleships: 0 Armored Cruisers: Defence – Warrior – Black Prince Light Cruisers: 0 Destroyers: Tipperary - Nestor - Nomad – Turbulent – Ardent – Fortune – Shark - Sparrowhawk British battlecruisers damaged at Jutland: New Zealand – 1 hit Lion – 14 Princess Royal – 9 Tiger – 21 British battleships damaged at Jutland: Colossus – 2 hits Barham – 6 Malaya – 8 Warspite – 15 Marlborough – 1 torpedo British personnel losses: 6,094 dead – 674 wounded – 177 taken prisoner At first glance, the damage to the Grand Fleet may not seem so bad – but Jellicoe saw things differently the morning after Jutland. He entered the battle with 9 combat-ready battlecruisers. On the morning of 3 June, Beatty’s “Battlecruiser Fleet” was reduced to two undamaged Invincible Class and one lightly damaged Indefatigable Class. ALL of his remaining modern battlecruisers were significantly damaged. A heavily damaged HMS Lion was repaired and returned to duty on 19 July – minus her burnt-out “Q” turret – which could not be replaced until September. Princess Royal received temporary repairs over an eight-day period at Rosyth, then sailed to Plymouth for permanent repairs – and returned to the Grand Fleet on 21 July. Among the “Splendid Cats”, HMS Tiger was peppered pretty heavily by shells, but was repaired at Rosyth Dockyard and returned to the fleet on 1 July. (Incidentally, she fired 303 rounds from her main battery guns and obtained only one hit on SMS Moltke and two on Von der Tann – a 1% hit ratio.) The upshot of this, is Jellicoe had only 4 battlecruisers available for scouting duties during the next six weeks. (HMAS Australia had missed Jutland, but was now available.) This perceived weakness in his scouting forces bothered Jellicoe. HMS Tiger completed repairs and took on coal before rejoining the Battlecruiser Fleet. Three Passat Class and a Nordwind Class tug ease the big battlecruiser against the coaling dock. The docks are 11x3 custom-made lots using an old brick texture and “Paeng’s Grunge Concrete”, fronted by “WMP Seawalls”. The coal cranes are from the “PEG” trash lots, “resized” to fit. The two warehouses left of center are from “Nob’s 1905 Naval Series”. HMS Tiger, the steam locomotive, and coal gondolas are courtesy of Barroco Hispano. The numerous sailors, rope coils, Atlantic fenders, and beautiful tugs are the work of “AP”. The dreadnoughts of the Grand Fleet, as a whole, suffered comparatively little damage – though several individual ships took considerable punishment. HMS Colossus took two shells in the forward superstructure, causing little damage, and returned to duty by 18 June. After nearly being lost to a single torpedo strike, HMS Marlborough received temporary repairs at Hull, then moved to the Armstrong-Whitworth shipyard at Jarrow (Clydebank) for extensive permanent repairs. She returned to the fleet on 5 August. HMS Barham, flagship of the now-famous 5th Battle Squadron “fast battleships”, was a bit “chewed-up”, but returned to the fleet on 5 July. HMS Malaya, another “fast battleship”, survived a great deal of enemy attention and many near misses, but was repaired in the floating dock at Invergordon and returned to the fleet on 4 July. HMS Warspite was the most heavily damaged of the “fast battleships”, but she managed to make port under her own steam and underwent extensive repairs, only returning to the fleet in early August. (Warspite went on to a long and glorious career in WW II. At the Battle of Calabria, 9 June 1940, she opened fire on the Italian battleship Giulio Cesare and scored a hit at the longest known range of 29,000 yards. The record stands unbroken to this day. Warspite was also the first Allied warship to open fire on the Normandy beaches, on June 6, 1944. However, it became something of a standing joke in the Royal Navy that her steering gear problem was never fully cured. For the rest of her service life, Warspite’s steering would, for no apparent reason -- occasionally go “haywire” – and the big ship would “go-walk-about”.) An added stroke of luck came to Jellicoe within days of the battle, when HMS Queen Elizabeth and Emperor of India completed their maintenance and rejoined the fleet. And a few weeks later, the new 15-inch-gunned battleship HMS Royal Sovereign completed her working-up exercises and joined the battle squadrons at Scapa Flow. So – for the next six weeks -- Jellicoe’s “fast battleship” squadron was reduced to two ships – and his total dreadnought battleship strength dropped from 28 to 24 ships. Though this temporary decline in strength preyed on Jellicoe’s mind, the danger was more imagined than real, and he had one obvious and overwhelming advantage. On the morning of 3 June 1916, Jellicoe had an operational battle fleet on two hour’s notice for steam – Admiral Scheer did not. SMS Helgoland undergoes repair in one of the large floating dry docks in Wilhelmshaven that so impressed Jellicoe in the time before the war. The dock is very wide in relation to Helgoland. It was designed to accommodate ships as each class got progressively bigger. Note the funnels on the right of the dock. Boilers and steam engines powered the big pumps used to raise and lower the dock so ships could enter and exit. They also ran generators providing electric light, ventilation fans in the machine shops, and power for the heavy machine tools. Across the North Sea, much the same scene was being played out with the Hochseeflotte. True enough, Scheer had fewer ships to worry about – but more of his were damaged. The size of the British battle fleet, the poor visibility on the day of the battle, and the way in which the battle unfolded, all conspired to concentrate damage to just a portion of the German fleet. The opposing battlecruiser forces engaged early on and stayed engaged for the entire battle – both sides steadily accumulating damage. The British battle fleet was arrayed in such a manner as to be able to bring virtually all their guns to bear on the enemy, while the poor visibility limited their field of vision. This haphazardly resulted in many British ships concentrating their fire on the few visible German dreadnoughts – causing heavy damage. Considering the circumstances, it’s a miracle they survived at all. (Had British gunnery been better, they might not have survived.) Of the 5 German battlecruisers present at Jutland, one was sunk, one was virtually unharmed, two were heavily damaged, and the fifth one was near sinking. Scheer engaged the British with 16 dreadnought battleships – 9 were damaged in varying degrees. Of the 6 pre-dreadnought battleships present, one was lightly damaged and one sunk. (Some authors claim the old battleships were “hit repeatedly” – but there is no evidence in the “BundesArchiv” to support this assertion.) The official German warship losses at Jutland: Battlecruisers: Lutzow Battleships: Pommern (pre-dreadnought) Light Cruisers: Wiesbaden – Elbing – Rostock -- Frauenlob Torpedo Boats: V-48 – S-35 – V-29 – V-27 -- V-4 German battlecruisers damaged: Von der Tann – 4 hits Moltke – 4 Seydlitz – 26, 1 torpedo Derfflinger – 31 German battleships damaged: Rheinland – 1 hit Westfalen – 1 Helgoland – 1 Oldenburg – 1 Kaiser – 2 Ostfriesland – 1 mine Grosser Kurfurst – 8 Konig – 10 Markgraf – 5 Nassau – 2, rammed by destroyer Spitfire German pre-dreadnought battleships damaged: Schleswig-Holstein – 1 hit Schlesien – 1 hit German personnel losses: 2,551 dead – 507 wounded ** (It should be noted no two sources agree on the number of hits taken by the Imperial warships. Consequently, I have taken my numbers from the “BA-MA” – Bundesarchiv – Militararchiv. For purposes of simplification, I have included only hits scored by main and secondary battery guns.) Comparing the numbers, they speak for themselves. In the early decades of the 20th Century, the balance of power was measured in capital ships, and the Royal Navy lost three battlecruisers, while the Kaiserliche Marine lost one battlecruiser and one old pre-dreadnought battleship. If you simply crunch the numbers, the British lost more men and ships. But the immediate balance of power after the battle could be better measured in “repairs” and how long they took to complete. Jellicoe, always worried about maintaining his 2 to 1 margin of superiority, needlessly wrung his hands over a six week repair period. Scheer, on the other hand, did not have imaginary problems – he had real problems. Despite all the grief she inflicted on British destroyer flotillas during the night, SMS Westfalen suffered only minor damage and returned to the fleet in mid-June. She is seen taking on coal from a pair of lighters with a Thor Class tug lashed alongside. Another tug stands by with various ship’s stores. SMS Westfalen courtesy of Barroco Hispano. Tugs, lighters, mooring dolphins, and small boats by AP. Due to the volume of fire directed at them, and the sheer destructive power of the larger British shells, the Imperial capital ships suffered devastating structural damage that would have certainly sunk less well-armored vessels. What’s more – German commercial shipyards and Imperial Dockyards were few in number and scattered between the North Sea and The Baltic. Compounding the difficulty was their limited capacity (hence the numerous floating docks), and their inability to match the speed of English facilities. Scheer was in far worse shape than Jellicoe, and far more worried – and with good reason. A week after the battle of Jutland, Scheer could only muster one slightly damaged battlecruiser (Moltke) and eight undamaged dreadnought battleships. (SMS Konig Albert missed Jutland due to condenser trouble, but was ready for duty on 3 June.) SMS Rheinland was hit only once, and returned to I Battle Squadron by 17 June. A pair of Sophia Class paddle tugs have come alongside to unload their lighters. The first tug is hauling fresh provisions, while the second is transferring dry goods and ship’s stores. A Thor Class tug stands by to top-off Rheinland’s coal bunkers. SMS Westfalen, Rheinland, Helgoland, and Oldenburg were lightly damaged, and returned to service by mid-June (about two weeks), providing a much needed boost in battleship strength. The elderly Schleswig-Holstein and Schlesian (pre-dreadnoughts) were moderately damaged but were repaired dockside at Cuxhaven. Despite being rammed by HMS Spitfire, losing 20 feet or her belt armor, and having a considerable gash above the waterline, SMS Nassau went into Kaiserliche Werft Wilhelmshaven and returned to the fleet on 14 July -- about six weeks. The damage to SMS Grosser Kurfurst was largely superficial, but two hits involved structural damage, so the ship returned to her builder’s yard, A.G. Vulcan, Hamburg. She rejoined the battle fleet on 16 July (approximately six weeks). SMS Nassau was hit by two shells, causing moderate damage – but she was rammed by the destroyer HMS Spitfire. The British ship was passing on an opposite course and seriously damaged the battleship’s port bow and armor belt, with collateral damage along the rest of the port side. Nassau is moored outboard of the dry dock mole undergoing repairs. Two crane barges have been brought alongside to work on the hull plating with a machinists barge to help with the steel work. The steam tug Goliath and the paddle tug Helena are standing by to move the crane barges as needed. SMS Nassau and Goliath are courtesy of “Barroco Hispano”. The mooring dolphins, lighters, tug Helena, and the barges alongside the battleship are all by “AP”, as well as the crane on the left hand barge. There are many props and cranes on the dry dock mole – also by “AP”. The barges and cranes in the left of the picture are from the “PEG” seaports and “SNM Series”. Below is a detail shot. SMS Konig suffered the most serious damage among the Imperial dreadnoughts. She had structural damage to the main armor belt and the forward armored citadel transverse bulkhead. There were also large areas below decks where small compartments were shattered by the blast from armor-piercing shells. (No doubt, 15-inch rounds from HMS Barham, Revenge, or Royal Oak.) Because of her size, Konig required a large floating dock. Wilhelmshaven’s were already occupied, so she transferred to Kaiserliche Werft Kiel for immediate repairs, then to the Howaldtswerk shipyard in the Kieler Hafen to finish the work. She returned to the Jade on 22 July (seven weeks). SMS Ostfriesland is going into dry dock for major repairs to the mine damage on her starboard bow. Once the water is drained they will be able to repair the interior compartments as well as the hull and armor belt. Off her stern are two Passat Class tugs and one older Nordwind Class. While in dock her hull will be cleaned and repainted. The tugs and lighters in the lower left are carrying hundreds of gallons of paint for the purpose. The small dockside cranes are borrowed from the “PEG SNM Series”, while the large 250 ton steam cranes are the meticulous work of “AP”. Ostfriesland is courtesy of “Barroco Hispano”. The tugs, lighters, sailors, and numerous small props dockside are the fine work of “AP”. The mine damage to Ostfriesland, both internal and external, was considerable, but the Imperial Dockyard returned her to duty on 26 July (nearly eight weeks). SMS Markgraf was knocked-about quite a bit – taking at least three 15-inch shells -- but it was a near miss aft that sent her back to the builder’s yard. The force of the detonation alongside (probably another 15-inch round), warped a propeller shaft. Markgraf was escorted to the A.G. Weser Shipyard in Bremen to make use of their large dry dock – and only returned to the Jade on 5 August (roughly nine weeks). SMS Kaiser suffered light damage from 2 hits, but as part of the guard force anchored in Schillig Roads, her repairs were delayed and she only rejoined the battle fleet on 7 August (nine weeks). With Scheer’s battle squadrons once again whole, he received a bit of luck. The new 15-inch-gunned battleship SMS Bayern commissioned into the Kaiserliche Marine on 15 July and was assigned to III Battle Squadron. Due to wartime conditions, the dreadnought battleship SMS Bayern conducted her working-up exercises largely in the Baltic Sea. Urgently needed to strengthen the Hochseeflotte, she was dispatched to Wilhelmshaven with little coal in her bunkers. She anchored in Schillig Roads on 15 July and immediately began coaling ship. Her big 15-inch guns were a welcome addition to III Battle Squadron. Bayern and the steam tug Goliath are courtesy of Barroco Hispano. The Helena Class paddle tug, lighters, small boat, and mooring dolphins are the detailed work of @AP. The repairs to the German battleships had been handled fairly quickly, but then, they had not been under fire for very long. The German battlecruisers were another matter entirely. SMS Moltke only took four hits – but all of them were 15-inch shells. She was holed aft below the armor belt and flooded-down by the stern. On 6 June she was despatched to her builder -- up the Elbe River to the Blohm & Voss Yards. The four big Lyddite shells also caused superficial damage to her hull and decks, but considerably more internal damage to her below deck compartments. Admiral Hipper was finally able to raise his flag aboard Moltke on 14 August (ten weeks). SMS Von der Tann was also hit by four large caliber shells -- two of them 15-inch – one of which struck below the waterline aft, dislodging part of the armor belt and causing serious flooding. Other shells damaged the ship’s upper works, but the most serious problem was with the main gun recoil buffers. During rapid firing early in the battle, Von der Tann’s main battery guns began to overheat, and eventually came out of battery during recoil – effectively putting the guns out of action. A good deal of time was spent overhauling the gun slides and recoil buffers. Repair parts for Von der Tann’s jammed “A” turret were cannibalized from the battleship Rheinland to speed the work. The guns then had to be tested on the Baltic gunnery ranges, and Von der Tann did not rejoin 1st Scouting Group until 15 August (ten weeks). The repair of SMS Seydlitz was one of the most difficult operations ever performed at the Imperial Dockyards Wilhelmshaven. The ship barely made port in a near-sinking condition – and repairs were more like a salvage operation. Almost two weeks were spent sealing holes and lightening the ship enough to get her inside the harbor locks, and then into a floating dock. She absorbed an unbelievable 26 large caliber shells (twelve of them 15-inch) and a torpedo strike. The torpedo, alone, was enough to sink most capital ships of the period. Everything forward of the bridge was riddled with massive shell holes and an utter shambles. Initial repairs were carried out in various floating docks and basins at Wilhelmshaven – then she transferred to Kiel, where more advanced work was undertaken in the construction yard. Seydlitz finally rejoined 1st Scouting Group on 3 November (approximately twenty weeks). SMS Derfflinger was in better shape than Seydlitz, but not by much. She went into a floating dock on 2 June and work was begun draining compartments, plugging holes, and fitting temporary patches to the hull. From 7-9 June she was moored at berth A-5 to clean the ship, remove the torpedo nets and booms, and land part of the ammunition ashore. Derfflinger arrived in Kiel on 11 June where permanent repairs would be carried out in the construction yard. At the same time, the big cruiser received a tall tripod mast -- the signature look for which she is so well known. The new tripod would accommodate a large foretop with an improved 15-foot rangefinder. On 22 June she returned to the floating dock where final repairs were concluded on 15 October. Sea trials and gunnery tests were run to ensure the battlecruiser was combat-ready, and Derfflinger rejoined 1st Scouting Group on 9 November, when they arrived in Kiel for squadron maneuvers and gunnery practice (roughly twenty-one weeks). (Just for the record – If anyone requires proof of the superiority of German armor and its application – Seydlitz and Derfflinger represent tangible proof. Considering the enormous amounts of damage done to these two ships – they should have sunk. But the key philosophy behind German warship construction was survivability. It took, roughly, three years to build SMS Seydlitz, and twenty-nine months for Derfflinger – but it only took five months to make repairs and return them to the fleet. German naval architects understood: it was far cheaper, and much faster, to repair a ship than it was to build a new one.) SMS Derfflinger – circa 1917 – with her tripod foremast and spacious “spotting top”. The legs of the mast were unusually heavy compared to those seen in other navies. German designers made them especially sturdy to eliminate any possibility of vibration that might interfere with the optical rangefinder. The large 15-foot rangefinder would have been installed in the cylindrical shaped, rotating upper level of the spotting top, while the lower level housed the necessary fire control instruments, their operating party, and the firing circuits of the Chief Gunnery Officer. Access to the spotting top would have been via ladders outside the steel mast legs. Oddly enough – none of my extensive research has ever turned up an incident where a spotting top or tripod mast was destroyed by gunfire. There were, of course, numerous instances of rangefinders mounted anywhere on the ship’s superstructure being knocked-out by enemy fire. On 18 August, Vizeadmiral Scheer once again assembled the serviceable units of the Hochseeflotte in Schillig Roads – some 18 dreadnought battleships and 2 battlecruisers. SMS Seydlitz and Derfflinger were not out of the repair yards, so 1st Scouting Group consisted of the battlecruisers SMS Von der Tann and Moltke (flag), reinforced by the battleships Grosser Kurfurst, Markgraf, and the new 15-inch-gunned SMS Bayern. Vizeadmiral Hipper cleared the Jade by 20:00 and set course to the west. An hour later, Admiral Scheer followed with the remaining battleships of the III and I Battle Squadrons. It was Scheer’s intention to show the English, and the rest of the world, the Imperial battle fleet was just as full of fight as ever. In yet another attempt to ambush a portion of the Grand Fleet, he would carry out the previously aborted Sunderland Raid, complete with U-Boat ambushes, and this time fully covered by Zeppelin reconnaissance. As usual, the British were fully alerted by German wireless traffic and the Grand Fleet, Battlecruiser Fleet, and Tyrwhitt’s Harwich Force had put to sea some five hours ahead of the Germans. The morning of 19 August dawned bright and clear as the Hochseeflotte continued to steer west, interrupted twice by early morning submarine sightings. On both occasions, Hipper immediately turned away from the enemy and signaled submarine warnings to Scheer before swinging back to the west. Unfortunately for the Hochseeflotte battle squadrons, around 06:00, some 60 miles north of Terschelling – the British submarine E-23 slammed a torpedo into SMS Westfalen. Hit amidships, the German dreadnought took onboard 800 tons of water, and was ordered back to Wilhelmshaven under escort. As Hipper’s scouting group proceeded on a westerly course, yet another British submarine, this one on the surface, was sighted by SMS Bayern at 08:43. Wary of the numerous submarine sightings, Hipper increased speed and altered course to WSW. To the north, almost simultaneous to the torpedoing of Westfalen, the Grand Fleet was approaching Dogger Bank. HMS Nottingham (Goodenough’s 2nd Light Cruiser Squadron) was on the extreme east end of the scouting line, 6 miles ahead of the battle fleet. Without warning, a single torpedo fired from U-52 struck the light cruiser in the port engine room -- she barely had time to get out a distress signal before going down. Apparently, the signal was sent in such haste it was unclear whether Nottingham was torpedoed or had struck a mine. Alarmed, Jellicoe feared he had run into a freshly laid minefield, and immediately reversed course. For the next two hours, the Grand Fleet actually steamed to the north -- until it could be confirmed Nottingham had been torpedoed – whereupon, the fleet resumed their southerly course. During the brief detour, a Zeppelin sighted the Grand Fleet and reported its course as north. This alerted Scheer to the fact the Grand Fleet was at sea, and puzzled him because of its direction of travel, but ultimately made no difference in the balance of things. Around 14:20, the wind began to freshen from the NW and belts of rain began blowing in. Shortly thereafter, a signal was picked up from the airship L-13…...”Strong enemy force...SE...30 units including dreadnoughts…”. The report was, of course, inaccurate – it was only the light cruisers and destroyers of the Harwich Force. Nevertheless, Hipper signaled Scheer, and swung his ships to close and investigate the report. He ordered SMS Von der Tann and Moltke to increase speed and take a position four miles in advance of the dreadnoughts in his force. Scheer assumed the Zeppelin report had identified Beatty’s battlecruisers, so he aborted the Sunderland Raid and moved to support Hipper. Hipper and Scheer searched briefly for the enemy to the SE, but Tyrwhitt’s force never turned up. After two more unsuccessful attacks by British submarines, Scheer was becoming nervous about a possible British submarine concentration and ambush. Finally, at 16:15, U-58 accurately reported the main body of the Grand Fleet just 60 miles north of Scheer’s position, so he broke off the fruitless search and set course for the Jade. Around 18:30, Tyrwhitt’s Harwich Force finally came on the scene and sighted the screening light cruisers of Hipper’s 1st Scouting Group far to the east and steaming for home. The British gave chase, briefly, but realized it would be dark before they could catch the retiring German warships. When Tyrwhitt sent in the sighting report, Jellicoe swung the Grand Fleet to the east, but it was more a gesture than an act of aggression. A half hour later, Jellicoe stumbled upon another German submarine ambush (U-63) and the screening light cruiser HMS Falmouth was torpedoed. (U-66 finished the job and sent her to the bottom on 20 August while she was being towed back to port.) That was enough for Jellicoe. He had been nervous about bringing the battle fleet that far south in the first place. Now he was certain it was no longer safe to use the Grand Fleet anywhere south of Horn’s Reef. With the High Sea Fleet steaming for the Jade, the signal lamps flashed up and down the long lines of battleships, and the Grand Fleet was ordered back to its’ various bases. After giving Tyrwhitt’s Harwich Force the slip, Hipper and his ships formed a rearguard for the battle fleet and dropped anchor in Schillig Roads around 09:00, 20 August – with no further incident. For all the bravado, on both sides, two things had become clear: (1) Both battle fleets were now wary of each other – and (2) the North Sea had become infested with submarines hostile to one side or the other. Here are four model views of SMS Derfflinger as she looked with her tripod, after rejoining the fleet – circa 1917. She is preparing to take on coal. In the final picture, it is obvious the rangefinder mounted high in the tripod fighting top has a much better vantage point than the rangefinder on top of the armored conning tower. The increased height not only allowed the fire control team to range farther over the horizon, but it was much more likely to be be free of obstruction from gunnery smoke. Excellent model provided by @Barroco Hispano. NEXT TIME…… IF THE TRUTH BE TOLD MANY THANKS to @Barroco Hispano for his beautiful warship models. SPECIAL THANKS to my friend and partner, @AP, for his talents, meticulous models, colorful imagination, 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 https://community.simtropolis.com/forums/topic/761469-simtropolis-shipyard/?tab=comments#comment-1766496

The British 12th Destroyer Flotilla charging into the attack. IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: CUXHAVEN By: Dreadnought & AP Chapter 38: THE LONG JOURNEY HOME Around 02:00 1 June, the half-light of dawn had begun to flicker in the east when the British 12th Destroyer Flotilla spotted a line of battleships to starboard. Captain Stirling, leading in HMS Faulkner, had under his command 14 of the most modern and powerful destroyers available to the Grand Fleet. The big ships were quickly identified as four Kaiser Class battleships, followed by four Konig Class – Scheer’s III Battle Squadron. Three hundred yards astern were the pre-dreadnoughts of the II Battle Squadron – with the damaged SMS Nassau tucked into the center of their line. In a rare act of professionalism, Sterling immediately got off a sighting report...”URGENT – PRIORITY – Enemy battleships in sight. My position 10 miles astern of 1st Battle Squadron – Am attacking.” (With irritating irony, this report was never received by Jellicoe, or anyone else. It could have been a damaged wireless antenna on Faulkner, or possibly the German Wireless operators effectively “jamming” British WT traffic.) Stirling led his boats into the attack, closing the enemy at 25 knots. Fortunately for the British, the Germans expected to see their own torpedo boats appearing to starboard and were exchanging recognition signals with them as the British closed-in from the port side. SMS Markgraf’s lookouts spotted the approaching destroyers, but Kapitan Seiferling thought they might be German and held his fire. HMS Faulkner circled the flotilla around in the dim light and approached the German battleships on an opposite course. Now the Germans could clearly see an “attack run” in progress and SMS Konig’s secondary batteries roared to life, quickly followed by Grosser Kurfurst and Markgraf. As their guns opened a rapid fire, the battleships put their helms hard over, turning away to starboard. The British charged in among the hail of 5.9-inch shells and loosed 12 torpedoes at ranges varying from 3,000 to 1,600 yards. Eight of the torpedoes were fired at the German dreadnoughts, while HMS Onslaught directed all four of hers at the pre-dreadnoughts following behind. HMS Faulkner and her flotilla sheered away to starboard as the torpedoes sped toward the German battleships. One passed close ahead of SMS Grosser Kurfurst, another exploded in the wake of Kronprinz, a third torpedo passed within a hundred feet of Markgraf on a parallel course, and a fourth actually went beneath the ship without detonating. But the last two torpedoes fired by HMS Onslaught ran straight and true. SMS Pommern’s magazines erupt in a ball of flame, the ship broken in half by two torpedoes. Though technically a pre-dreadnought – she still went into the history books as the only battleship sunk at Jutland. At 02:10, SMS Pommern was struck square amidships, and it is generally accepted the detonation of two torpedoes touched off one of the 6.7-inch secondary magazines. This, in turn, set off a lightning-fast chain of explosions. In mere seconds, flames engulfed the ship and rose mast-high before a final massive explosion broke her in half. Large pieces of debris hurtled through the air as the battleship’s bow rose up out of the water, then slid backwards until it disappeared beneath the waves. The stern half of the ship capsized, floated briefly, then went under. Pommern was gone -- taking all 839 of her crew with her. SMS Schlesien had to sheer violently out of line to avoid the capsized stern section, but still received a heavy jolt as she struck some sort of wreckage below the surface. When SMS Hannover passed a few moments later, the upturned stern was disappearing beneath a mass of floating wreckage. The trailing elements of the 12th Destroyer Flotilla launched another five torpedoes at the Germans, but they turned away yet again, and there were no further hits. Pommern was the only battleship, on either side, to be sunk during the Battle of Jutland. (It should be noted, SMS Pommern was also the only capital ship to be sunk by a torpedo. HMS Marlborough and SMS Seydlitz were struck by torpedoes, but did not sink. Apparently, torpedoes were more effective against destroyers, torpedo boats, and light cruisers – probably due to close-range melee combat – and quite possibly purely by accident.) The battleships were still blazing away with their secondary batteries, and at such short range, the shells were landing uncomfortably close to the tiny destroyers. Captain Sterling had fought a text-book engagement against 15 battleships at insanely close range, and managed to sink one of them. With few torpedoes remaining, he wisely chose not to press the issue. Sterling rallied his gallant little boats and HMS Faulkner led them off to resume their position astern of the Grand Fleet. Somewhere in that long line of destroyers slicing through the night, was HMS Morning Star -- with 22-year-old Sub-Lieutenant Philip Vian aboard. Another dark night (26-27 May 1941) would find Captain Vian aboard HMS Cossack, leading a destroyer flotilla – harassing the mighty battleship KM Bismarck. His flotilla obtained no hits, and lost a destroyer to German gunfire, but they kept a tired enemy at their battle stations all night – winning him a second award of the DSO in little more than a year. He died in 1968, at home in his bed, age 73 – an “Admiral Of The Fleet”. Fittingly, his last sea-going command had been C.-in-C. Home Fleet, with HMS Vanguard (the last British battleship) flying his flag. HMS Cossack anchored off a “channel navigation beacon” on the Weser River. Navigation beacons are used primarily at night to keep ship traffic on course within the dredged or deep water parts of a harbor channel or river course. While steaming away from, or toward, one of the beacons, the “pilot” (either a river pilot or harbor pilot) visually keeps the two lights directly in line with one another. Notice the land beacon is taller than the water beacon – so the lights should be directly above each other. If the ship veers off course, the lights will go out of alignment and the vessel is in danger of running aground. The “Nav Beacons” and many of the props on the platform are by "AP". I have modified the beacons to have blinking blue lights. A Tribal Class destroyer, HMS Cossack was one of 27 ships: commissioned 1938 – 1,921 tons – 36 knots – 8x4.7-inch (QF) guns – 1 quadruple 21-inch torpedo tube mount – 20 depth charges – no armor. Their guns were placed in twin mountings behind open gun shields and packed a fair punch. The ships were fast, agile, and the Royal Navy never had enough of them to go around. This highly detailed model is courtesy of Barroco Hispano. Off to the NE, the light cruiser HMS Champion, leading the 13th Destroyer Flotilla, heard the gunfire and spotted the gun flashes of the 12th Flotilla’s last engagement. Captain Farie altered course to investigate, accompanied by the destroyers Obdurate and Moresby, and rang for 28 knots. Along the way, two stragglers were picked up, the destroyers Marksman and Maenad, as the little squadron drove to the SE at high speed. By 02:10, it was already getting light in the east when Champion’s lookouts sighted the last four pre-dreadnought battleships of Mauve’s II Battle Squadron disappearing into the thick mist in the east. Apparently, Captain Farie thought better of engaging four battleships and altered course to the east. The battleships might be old and tired, but their 11-inch guns could shred a light cruiser with ease. However, Lt. Commander Alison, in HMS Moresby, was a “destroyer man” – he closed the target for a few more minutes and loosed a single torpedo on a high-speed setting. As he swung the little destroyer back to rejoin Champion, an explosion was heard and a dull orange glow seen in the eastern mist. The old pre-dreadnoughts steamed on, unaware that they had even been sighted – but the torpedo boat V-4 lost her bow to an explosion. It has never been officially established what caused the explosion – a mine – loose ammunition – a spent torpedo floating on the surface – but it could have been Moresby’s final “shot” at the Battle of Jutland. By 02:40, the Hochseeflotte, spearheaded by the aggressive night tactics of SMS Westfalen, had hacked their way through the rear of the British battle line. And not a moment too soon – daylight was beginning to glimmer far away on the eastern horizon. Vizeadmiral Hipper’s four badly mauled battlecruisers were no longer a cohesive unit – he didn’t even know where they were -- but the skill and determination of their officers and crew got them through the enemy line. As the old pre-dreadnought Hannover disappeared in the pre-dawn haze to the SE – the battle, for all intents and purposes, came to an end. But there was one final act to be played out. Around 04:20, Kapitainleutnant Richard Bietzen in SMS G-40 was leading the torpedo boats V-45, G-37, and G-38 to the SE at a comfortable 15 knots. Suddenly, out of the dim morning light and haze, 4 points off the starboard bow and proceeding on an opposite course, were the shapes of a light cruiser and several destroyers. It was the wandering Captain Farie, with HMS Champion and four destroyers – HMS Obdurate, Moresby, Marksman, and Maenad. Bietzen’s path home was now blocked, but reluctant to become involved in a chase and running gun battle, he decided to press the element of surprise – and attack! “...Go to utmost speed -- man the guns – all torpedo tubes starboard – fire when you bear on the target…” The first torpedo left the tube and missed the target, but Champion sheered away to the west to avoid the danger. Bietzen then opened a rapid fire on the trailing British destroyer, followed by the guns and torpedoes of the other boats. Seconds later a 6-inch shell slammed into G-40 and disabled the aft steam turbine -- wrecking her steam pipes and leaving her dead in the water. Fortunately, the bold attack paid-off and the British turned away to the west and disappeared into the murk. Arrangements were swiftly made to tow G-40, but the hawsers kept parting in the choppy waters. Finally, an assistant helmsman, with many years experience in the merchant marine, suggested securing G-40’s bow anchor chains to the stern bollards of G-37 to make the tow. With the chains secured, the little flotilla set off once again for the Jade. A distress call was sent out, and SMS Regensburg with four more torpedo boats soon arrived to act as escort. During the startling encounter, Kapitainleutnant Bietzen’s torpedo boats had been encumbered with a precious cargo rescued from a sinking ship, and his swift and decisive action meant they would live to return home. The quick thinking ex-merchant seaman was the rescued assistant helmsman from SMS Lutzow, and Bietzen’s torpedo boats were loaded down with 1,176 of his shipmates. With the battle finally over, the task at hand was to get the wounded steel beasts to safe harbor. Konteradmiral Mauve’s pre-dreadnoughts of the II Battle Squadron alter course to the southeast as they steam off into the pre-dawn haze. They were the last of Scheer’s ships to break through the rear of the Grand Fleet. It had been a long, long, day – and the Imperial battlecruisers had borne the brunt of the battle throughout. The Panzerkreuzer had been designed as fast cruisers with an armor suite that would allow them to serve in the battle line and survive. But they were never meant to take the place of the battle line -- and on 31 May – that is exactly what happened. Any single battlecruiser spent more time under direct enemy fire than nearly all of the Hochseeflotte battleships put together. The unassuming Danish steamer N.J. Fjord had been sighted around 15:00 by the scouting forces of the two opposing fleets, and some forty minutes later, Vizeadmiral Hipper’s battlecruisers were hotly engaged with the British Battlecruiser Fleet. For the next four hours, the Panzerkreuzer were the tip of Scheer’s spear. Wherever the action was hottest, they would be there. And when Scheer called upon them to cover his last retreat, they charged into the teeth of the enemy fire and saved the battle fleet. But at great cost. When Vizeadmiral Hipper was finally able to board SMS Moltke and resume command of his squadron, he ordered them to increase speed to 20 knots and take station ahead of the Hochseeflotte. As Derfflinger and Von der Tann signaled they were unable to comply, Hipper realized his squadron was no longer battle-worthy. Derfflinger and Von der Tann were ordered to the rear of the battle fleet and instructed to keep up as best they could. Moltke, relatively undamaged, and Seydlitz, still capable of high speed, steered for the head of the battle fleet. Some time after 21:57, Moltke sighted what turned out to be the British 2nd Light Cruiser Squadron and turned away to the west. In the process, she lost contact with Seydlitz. About an hour later, Moltke sighted the head of the British battle line (HMS King George V). She altered course to the south, increased speed to 25 knots, then cut across the bow of the British battleships and disappeared into the eastern darkness. Again, she was recognized by the British as an enemy ship, but they did not open fire. In sharp contrast, Thuringen had spotted HMS Black `Prince and did not hesitate to blow her out of the water. SMS Derfflinger dropped astern and took station to the rear of Mauve’s pre-dreadnoughts. Derfflinger had been beaten-up pretty badly, but managed to get one turret back in manual operation. Her forecastle area had been heavily damaged and she was flooded-down by the bow, unable to make more than 18 knots. SMS Von der Tann had no serviceable main battery guns, had flooded by the stern, and was having trouble maintaining the fires in her boilers. The build-up of inferior coal “clinkers” threatened to put the fires out, so Von der Tann was also ordered to the rear so she could clean her fires. Together, the two battlecruisers would slip through the British rearguard covered by the pre-dreadnoughts of II Battle Squadron. SMS Seydlitz, however, was now alone – and in a serious condition. SMS Moltke had used her speed advantage to get across in front of the British battleships, but Seydlitz was incapable of that kind of speed, and in her flooded condition, she was extremely difficult to maneuver. Having veered off to the west when the British were encountered, she returned to her easterly course around midnight, only to find a two-mile gap had developed in the British line. Kapitan von Egidy knew he was in a dangerous position – but he was desperate to save his ship. He rang for all the speed he thought his sluggish ship could manage and steered east across the path of the enemy – who was surely close about. Close, indeed. Seydlitz was spotted in the distance off the bow of the approaching HMS Marlborough, leading Vice-Admiral Burney’s 1st Battle Squadron. Captain Ross did not think Marlborough’s battered bulkheads could withstand the shock of firing her main batteries – and did nothing. Captain Kiddle in HMS Revenge (15-inch guns) challenged the stranger, but was satisfied by the wrong recognition signal -- colored lights – and did nothing. HMS Hercules, apparently, ignored the intruder – no one else seemed in a hurry to open fire. And HMS Agincourt (14x12-inch guns) decided not to challenge, rather than give away the division’s position. And so it was -- Seydlitz, the “lucky ship” -- managed to escape east between the battle squadrons of the Grand Fleet. Upon inspection, it was estimated about 2,600 tons of water had been taken aboard Seydlitz, but the pumps appeared to be controlling the water level inside the ship. Unfortunately, most of the flooding had occurred below the armored deck. Additional flooding had occurred in the port and starboard wing passages forward of the second funnel. She was already considerably down by the bow, and any sort of speed forced water over the forecastle deck. The water then entered the forecastle above the armored deck through the huge holes blasted there. The massive internal blast damage among the compartments below decks now made it impossible to control the flooding above the armored deck. (British shells were designed to be particularly destructive and contained a powerful Picric-Acid-based bursting charge called Lyddite. It was easily identified because the explosion turned the entire surrounding area a ghastly scorched-yellow color. The shells passed through the deck and exploded some fifteen feet inside the ship, causing massive blast damage.) Additionally, the blast from the single torpedo strike caused a serious distortion in the seal between the armored deck and the torpedo bulkhead, admitting more water. Despite the crew’s best efforts, Seydlitz’ bow continued to sink lower and lower -- and the lower she settled, the more water came into the forecastle. Her speed was reduced from 20 knots to 15 knots, and then to 12 knots, because the bow wave was now constantly rolling over the forecastle and the trim of the ship made control more and more difficult. The water on the forward battery deck eventually over-topped the forward transverse bulkhead of the citadel armor, and began to fill more compartments above the armor deck, endangering the ship’s stability. The damage control parties were unable to do more than slow the flooding because the compartments above the armored deck were hopelessly riddled with shell splinters or terribly distorted by the blast of the Lyddite shells. As predicted, years before, the thinly armored bow area had come back to haunt first Lutzow, then Derfflinger, and now Seydlitz. The crew “turned to” and every able-bodied man was put to plugging splinter holes and shell holes. Wooden plugs were pounded into smaller holes, timber patches were fashioned and propped into place with timber shoring, and collision mats reinforced with timber were used to try and cover some of the large openings. The emergency leak pumps were broken out and put into operation – and mercifully, the main pumps continued to function at full capacity. Around 05:45 on 1 June, the sea began to rise and the choppy waves threatened to wash away some of the patches. Soon the water pressure on the forward bulkheads became too great and several below decks compartments were evacuated. Kapitan von Egidy further reduced speed to 10 knots, and then to 7 knots to prevent their collapse. About this time the II Battle Squadron, followed by Derfflinger, passed to starboard, steering for Horns Reef. SMS Seydlitz is seen here after daylight on 1 June, steering for Horns Reef. The ship has already taken on a slight list to port, and she is seriously down by the bow. In her waterlogged condition, the engineers are forced to run her engines at maximum revolutions to produce just 7 knots of forward motion – hence the great volume of smoke emitted by her funnels. Around 07:40, Seydlitz was approaching Horns Reef when both gyro compasses failed. The magnetic compass had suffered a deviation change, and all the charts were either lost, covered in blood, or underwater. By this time, both steering engines had failed and Seydlitz could only be maneuvered, with great difficulty, by the manual apparatus. The wounded battlecruiser had already grounded twice, and navigating Horns Reef and the tricky Amrum Bank Passage with a ship badly down by the bow was deemed doubtful. Von Egidy signaled 2nd Scouting Group for assistance. Soon, five minesweepers arrived to take up anti-submarine patrols, and the light cruiser SMS Pillau arrived to act as a navigational guide for the heavily damaged warship. By 08:40, Seydlitz had gotten past Horns Reef, but the ship was measuring a draft of 43 feet forward and navigating the Amrum Bank Passage was considered impossible. Steering west of Amrum Bank was too risky, so they decided to steer east of the shallows. As they started into the eastern passage, Kapitan von Egidy signaled Wilhelmshaven requesting two pump steamers be sent out and a ship with additional materials to seal leaks. About 09:00, Seydlitz stuck fast abeam the Hornum-Sylt Islands in 45 feet of water. In order to raise the bow as high as possible, von Egidy ordered the center aft trim cell and the port and starboard aft wing passages counter-flooded. This reduced the starboard list considerably, and as the tide rolled in, Seydlitz broke free. SMS Seydlitz trying to navigate the Amrum Bank Passage. She is seriously down by the bow, with only 12 or 18 inches of freeboard at the stem. She is barely able to maintain 7 knots and hardly answers to her helm. If A forward bulkhead were to fail – it would only be moments before she went down. The photo was most likely taken from Pillau’s aft observation top. By 10:25, SMS Seydlitz cleared the Amrum passage and continued to creep toward the safety of Wilhelmshaven. But the flooding began to appear in new compartments as water progressively leaked through splinter-damaged air shafts, ventilators, and electrical conduits. At 12:12, some compartments had been drained with leak pumps, but others were simply too large and no progress could be made. Her starboard list had gradually changed to eight degrees port as several coal bunkers flooded. Around 15:00 Kapitan von Egidy decided the depth of the bow was becoming a risk, and he turned Seydlitz and attempted to steer her “stern-ahead” -- continuing to creep south along the coast in water about 45 feet deep. Around 18:00, some twenty hours into her journey home, Seydlitz was still only mid-way between Horns Reef and safety. With an estimated 5,300 tons of water sloshing about below decks, her bow had sunk so low the waves were breaking against her forward gun turret. Though she was still afloat, the battlecruiser’s buoyancy and stability had become a critical issue. The wounded among the crew were moved topside and the ship’s boats were stocked with provisions. But Seydlitz’ time had not yet come. Around 17:30, with mere minutes remaining before abandoning ship, smoke was sighted to the south. Escorted by torpedo boats, the pump steamers Boreas and Kraft appeared over the horizon. With the pump steamers lashed to either beam, they began pumping and used their engines to help turn the ship when necessary. At one point, Pillau made a futile attempt to tow Seydlitz by the stern but the hawsers kept parting, and it was almost impossible to steer the big cruiser. As the sun went down on 1 June, Pillau cast off the tow and Seydlitz resumed course for Wilhelmshaven – creeping along, stern-ahead. As dawn broke on 2 June, salvage tugs arrived from the Imperial Dockyards and two of them took Seydlitz under tow. With some of the water pumped out and two tugs straining the hawsers, they were able to proceed at a prudent 10 knots. SMS Pillau continued her piloting duty, but as the wind freshened from NW to force eight, the seas began to rise and waves began to roll aboard the crippled Panzerkreuzer, so Pillau dropped back and formed a lee off her starboard quarter. Sometime after 23:00 Seydlitz, now drawing 46 feet forward, grounded temporarily east of the Weser lightship. At 08:30 on 2 June, Seydlitz crept past the Jade lightship and let go her anchor twenty minutes later off the Jade bar. Pillau and the minesweepers were detached, but the pump steamers and salvage tugs remained. Kapitan von Egidy and his determined crew had fought their ship until she could do no more, and then fought a 31-hour battle against an unforgiving sea – and against all the odds, they brought her into port. But it was not over. The auxiliary hospital ship Hansa and a tug arrived alongside. Hansa took off the wounded and the tug retrieved the dead – at least the ones they could get to. With the high tide, and the assisting salvage tugs, Seydlitz weighed and eased over the bar into Schillig Roads, but the difficulty in maneuvering her in powerful cross currents drove her aground between 16:20 and 21:00 that night. Around midnight the big cruiser finally made it through the Jade submarine net barrier – going sideways. She anchored again around 03:25 in Vareler Deep off Wilhelmshaven, but she drew too much water to get through the III Lock and into a repair dock, so work began to seal and lighten the ship. Seydlitz anchored in Vareler Deep. The big rifles have been removed from “A” turret to reduce weight forward. Every effort is being made to seal and pump out the ship to get into Wilhelmshaven. Note the mass of hawsers, cables, and assorted debris scattered all over the decks. You can see the barrels of the burnt-out “C” turret still trained to starboard. The struggle to return Seydlitz to duty was one of titanic proportions, and there are few surviving details of the work. It was more like a high priority salvage operation – with every available asset employed -- and might have looked much like this. All efforts were focused on lightening the cruiser, pumping her out, and getting her through the III Lock and inside Wilhelmshaven harbor, where proper repairs could be carried out. The repair ship Vestal has been deployed, along with floating cranes, work barge, and a variety of tug boats. The first steps were to patch and seal as many holes as possible using work crews above the waterline and salvage divers on the lower hull. While that was in progress, other repair teams would be removing damaged metal structures, destroyed equipment, and blast debris, before pumping could begin. Here you see “Langer Heinrich” (the world’s largest floating crane) lifting out Seydlitz’ damaged forward gun turret. Removing the gun tubes, gun housing, and the lower handling stages of the turret trunk could eliminate as much as 400 tons in the severely damaged forecastle area. (Again, you have to use your imagination a bit – making “damaged” ship models was out of the question. I simply couldn’t bring myself to impose on “AP’s” time and skills.) Along the port side of the damaged battlecruiser, you see a variety of craft at work. A machinist’s barge has been moored alongside to supply workmen and heavy machining tools to fashion structural supports and custom-made patches for her hull. Near the stern you can see two Langeoog salvage tugs lashed alongside. They connected their powerful pumps via long hoses to begin removing water from various compartments, while others are still being patched. On the starboard side another floating crane is employed lifting out the 42-ton, 11-inch gun tubes. Both stern turrets were damaged, and would have to be removed for repair anyway, but they will both be lifted out to remove another 800 tons of weight. “Lightening ship” will be a lengthy and labor intensive job – but every ton removed would raise Seydlitz a bit higher in the water. The repair ship Vestal has been moored alongside to provide the use of her facilities. Long electric cables from her dynamos have been run throughout Seydlitz to provide power and light to the cruiser’s damaged compartments so work can proceed. Her machine shops are working at maximum capacity, and workmen labor in shifts in a dozen different parts of the damaged ship. Two harbor tugs have tied-up alongside Vestal, in the event her position requires adjustment. Here’s another view of the work going on around the battlecruiser’s stern. The old steam tug Goliath, attending the barge crane, is courtesy of @Barroco Hispano, and the two sheds on the machinist’s barge are from “Nob’s 1905 Naval Series”. EVERYTHING else in the picture is the superbly detailed work of the talented @AP. An amazing amount of work went into crafting the models for this one picture – and I cannot thank him enough. The big cruiser managed to get into Wilhelmshaven roadsted on 6 June, and was finally taken into the large floating dock on 13 June. The repairs to the mauled battlecruiser were extensive. She was the most heavily damaged warship at Jutland – that did not sink. She was simply too tough to die. The naval architects had done their job well. Her armor and internal compartments -- and the skill and dedication of her officers and crew – had brought her home. “Lucky Seydlitz” would return to duty on 2 October 1916. Seydlitz several days later, inside the harbor at a repair quay. Some repairs have already been made to the forecastle deck as they try to seal the bow and pump out enough water to get her into Wilhelmshaven’s big floating dry dock. Seydlitz in the floating dry dock. This is the massive torpedo damage to the starboard bow area. The scale of the ladder gives you a good idea of the dimensions of the hole. This was simply too big to patch – and would have doomed a lesser ship. A 15-inch shell struck the armor belt below the port anchor. It detonated on contact and did not penetrate the hull, but the massive concussive blast dislodged a section of the armor belt and seriously “bowed-in” the inner skin of the ship, causing serious flooding. Another 15-inch shell penetrated “B” turret and put it out of action. Note how the hit distorted the 10-inch armor – and you can see the concentric circles around the hole where the armor has been fractured. SIDEBAR: There has been much discussion of the powerful 15-inch gun and the ships that carried them. Four of the British Queen Elizabeth Class fast-battleships constituted the 5th Battle Squadron of the Grand Fleet at Jutland -- while two, slower, 15-inch-armed Revenge Class battleships were also present in the battle line that day. There is little doubt their heavy armament was a deciding factor in the battle. The Kaiserliche Marine also laid down four 15-inch-gunned Bayern Class battleships between 1913 and 1915 – the first one just a few weeks before Queen Elizabeth herself was launched. Historians have been quick to point out this was no coincidence. Both classes had eight 15-inch guns in twin turrets – superfiring -- two fore and two aft. Both ship’s superstructure elements were tightly grouped amidships with closely spaced twin funnels. The only basic difference between them was the British ships were designed for high speed and had much larger machinery spaces below decks, resulting in a longer hull with the stern turrets placed farther aft. In 1913 there would have been a German naval attache in London and there is every reason to assume he would have forwarded all possible information on the Queen Elizabeth’s to the Admiralstab in Berlin. In the end, SMS Bayern joined the Hochseeflotte in March 1916, with SMS Baden arriving in October 1916. The hulls of SMS Sachsen and Wurttemberg were launched, but due to wartime delays and priorities, they were never completed. These would have been powerful additions to the Imperial fleet and immediate steps could have been taken in 1913 to see that they were laid down and completed with all due haste. (In both World Wars, the German Navy, for the most part, stubbornly adhered to “peacetime” routine rather then speeding-up construction, trials, and working-up periods for the crews.) But that’s where the fantasy part takes over. Had they been rushed to completion – and with a bit of luck – they could have joined the fleet prior to Jutland (maybe). My supposition is that their powerful guns would have been a major asset, and Admiral Scheer would have used the four battleships to form a “heavy squadron” of the Hochseeflotte – the IV Battle Squadron. This “heavy squadron” would have led the battle line into action and their heavy hitting power and longer gun range could have been decisive. Every historian and student of history has their own little fantasy – and since I have some excellent models from "Barroco Hispano" – I could not resist including them in the story. With docks and berthing space at a premium in the crowded anchorage at Wilhelmshaven, the IV Battle Squadron has been temporarily detached to Bremerhaven. The battleships have been moored to dolphins in the stream of the Weser River. Left to right, moored inboard, are SMS Bayern and the squadron flagship, SMS Sachsen. Moored outboard are SMS Wurttemberg and SMS Baden. Their escorting torpedo boats have been moored inside the basin of Bremerhaven’s small harbor. The original landing was renovated, barracks built, and new battleship mooring dolphins constructed to handle the overflow from Wilhelmshaven. (If you recall – the pre-dreadnoughts of the II Battle Squadron were detached to Cuxhaven.) During wartime, sufficient crew would be kept aboard the ships to maintain their “readiness”, while a portion would be rotated ashore to use the facilities of the barracks – sleep, shower, eat in the mess, etc, etc. A section of torpedo boats would patrol off the Weser as a guard/anti-submarine patrol. Here you can see the small boat activity as they go back and forth from ship to shore. Bayern Class battleship: displacement 28,330 tons – 22.25 knots – 8x15-inch guns – 16x5.9-inch guns – 8x3.4-inch AA guns – 5x23.6-inch torpedo tubes – belt armor 13.75 inches. Unlike the British Queen Elizabeth Class fast-battleships, the Bayern Class was not designed for high speed. (They were, however, capable of 22 knots – only two knots slower than their British cousins.) Having designed the battleworthy German “Panzerkreuzer as fast-battleships”, the Germans did not feel the need of a “fast wing” for the battle fleet. Not requiring great speed, the ships were equipped with a mix of 3 oil-fired and 11 coal-fired boilers and the space and weight savings were applied to bigger guns and heavy armor. Being comparably shorter and a bit wider in the beam, the German dreadnoughts had much better buoyancy characteristics and far superior internal subdivision. These were the first German capital ships to be designed with a tripod foremast. After the war, The Royal Navy assembled an inspection team and examined every aspect of Baden’s design – even running extensive competitive trials and tests against HMS Revenge. The Chief Naval Constructor assigned to head the team turned in a 465-page report, complete with volumes of data, and pronounced Baden ”...equal, and in many respects superior...to anything in the Royal Navy.” She was just a day late and a dollar short. The Bayern Class were quite handsome ships -- low freeboard with close-set funnels, a compact superstructure, and massive superfiring turrets. Arguably, the Imperial designers and several modern naval architects have considered them to be the apex of battleship design – capital ships built after them were no more than minor variations on the theme. Here you see the nameship of the class, Bayern, moored inboard against sturdy “battleship mooring dolphins”, with SMS Wurttemberg (“nested”) moored outboard. Bayern has launched a small boat seen hooking onto the mooring dolphin so the party of sailors can tighten-up the mooring hawsers – they sometimes stretch when they get wet. Wurttemberg has only just returned from her last three days of sea trials. A Thor Class tug has come alongside with a lighter of fresh provisions. On the port quarter, the old steam tug Goliath has maneuvered a machinist’s barge alongside to assist yard workers with the last of the minor adjustments to be made. A pair of cutters have set off, the officers in the sternsheets bound for the squadron flagship to report the trial results to Konteradmiral Behncke. In this view, you see SMS Sachsen moored against the dolphins, while SMS Baden is moored outboard. Baden is carrying on with normal shipboard routine -- her boat boom is deployed and small boats are going about their business. A motor launch has come alongside Sachsen and tied-up at her mooring dolphin. She is carrying dispatches and mail from the Bremerhaven headquarters. This is a detail shot so you can compare the two models. The sharp-eyed among you will notice there are two basic battleship models employed. Bayern and Baden were laid down first and completed to the same design plans. Sachsen and Wurttemberg were laid down later and would have undergone changes during construction – hence, the two different models. You can readily see Bayern (top) has “half-jacketed” funnels, while Wurttemberg’s funnels are “fully-jacketed”. There are numerous other small differences between these wonderfully detailed models. A true “ship-lover” could spend hours on this picture, alone. I imagine this is what a IV Battle Squadron would have looked like in 1916 – had it ever come into existence. Forgive me for indulging a fantasy. The shore barracks are repurposed from one of the lots in “Morgankirk’s Organwerks”, while other shore-based installations have been discussed in other chapters. The battleship models and the steam tug Goliath are kindly provided by @Barroco Hispano. The machine shop buildings on the barge are small warehouses from “Nob’s 1905 Naval Series”. The battleship mooring points, tugboat Thor, barge and lighters, motor launch, boat booms and small boats – are all the meticulous work of @AP. NEXT TIME…… THE REMAINS OF THE DAY... But first – We return to our tour of the East Mooring Basin of the Cuxhaven naval base. This is another overview of the light cruiser berths in the basin. Left of center are three of four Kolberg Class light cruisers – SMS Kolberg, Mainz, and Coln. Kolberg survived the war, but Mainz and Coln were lost at the First Battle of Heligoland Bight in August 1914. Right of center are the two light cruisers of the Pillau Class – SMS Pillau and Elbing. Elbing was lost during the night action at Jutland when she was accidentally rammed by the battleship SMS Posen – and later scuttled. Pillau survived the war, was ceded to Italy as war reparations, and was sunk by US Army bombers in 1943. This is a close-up of the Kolberg Class light cruisers nested along the quayside. Originally armed with twelve 4.1-inch guns, Kolberg was later modernized to carry eight 5.9-inch guns. At 25.5 knots, the ships had a fair turn of speed and Kolberg was frequently used on minelaying operations. Model by Barroco Hispano. These are the Pillau Class light cruisers – SMS Pillau and Elbing. They conformed to the German light cruiser standards – roughly 4,400 tons – 27.5 knots – 8x5.9-inch guns. But they started life at the Schichau-Werk, Danzig, as a pair of light cruisers destined for the Imperial Russian Navy. When war broke out, the German government confiscated the pair and finished them for the Kaiserliche Marine. Pillau was commissioned in December 1914, and Elbing in September 1915. This is the Italian light cruiser Raimondo Montecuccoli. Built between the wars, she was part of the third batch of Condottieri Class light cruisers. The Marina Regia had opted for cruiser warfare in the narrow seas of the Mediterranean, with a medium-sized battle fleet to supply a respectable amount of muscle. She was larger, much longer, and better protected than her predecessors. Model courtesy of Barroco Hispano. Raimondo Montecuccoli was commissioned in 1935: 7,523 tons – 37 knots – 6x6-inch (QF) guns – 4x21-inch torpedo tubes – 2 aircraft – belt armor 2.4 inches. Extremely fast, with a respectable main battery, these cruisers were more than capable of interdicting trade at any of the various “choke-points” in the Mediterranean. Raimondo Montecuccoli survived WW II and served in the Italian Navy until decommissioned in 1964. This is a close-up of a pair of sailing brigs made fast to mooring dolphins at the end of the mole. Though brig-rigged (sometimes brigantine-rigged) these small cargo carriers are often lumped into the same category with “luggers”. Luggers are small sailing ships (often smaller than a brig) specializing in short-haul coastal trading. The small ships are very handy in shallow, confined waters, and require only a small crew to sail. Sailing ships, both large and small, could still be found in harbors the world over up through the 1940’s, and turned impressive profit margins in the days before WW II. These beautiful and impressively detailed models are the work of @AP. SMS Strassburg – a Magdeburg Class light cruiser – sister ships were SMS Magdeburg, Breslau, and Stralsund. (Details on this class were covered in Chapter 01.) HMS Weymouth was the name ship of one of the seven sub-classes of Town Class light cruisers (totaling 21 ships). I have included her here because she is the only British WW I light cruiser model I have – and – it is a very fine model. The Town Class were long range cruisers designed to either scout for the fleet, or take care of business in the far flung corners of empire. Commissioned in 1911, she was: 5,275 tons – 25 knots – 8x6-inch guns – 2x21-inch torpedo tubes – no belt armor. This is a tug station tucked into the lower end of one of the basins. There are two older Nordwind tugs in the first row, with five Passat Class making up the balance. The Nordwind’s were originally designed by the Norddeutscher Line to handle large ocean liners and, at the Kaiser’s request, were also leased to the Kaiserliche Marine to handle dreadnought warships. As warships and liners grew larger, the Nordwind’s were updated and modernized, resulting in the improved Passat design. Notice the control tower on the mole and the dockside activity. The “new & improved” Passat Class tugs retained the basic design of the original Nordwind’s, but the wheelhouse was fully enclosed so they could operate better in inclement weather. And larger engines and boilers were installed to boost horsepower – along with heavier towing tackle. This close-up catches the fine detailing on the tugs as well as the activity around the control station. USS Marblehead – an Omaha Class Scout Cruiser. The United States Navy had known since the Spanish-American War their fleet had insufficient cruisers to preform scouting duties. As usual, Congress was in no hurry to spend money on ships, so the situation remained in “limbo”. With the outbreak of war in Europe, the Navy got busy and began designing a “fleet scout cruiser”. The initial 1914 design went through several iterations before they were finally ordered in 1916. The model shown is of the “third” design from April 1915. This close-up of Marblehead shows the original gun armament of six 6-inch guns placed on pedestal mounts without shields – two forward of the bridge – two amidships, and two on the fantail. The cruiser would have displaced approximately 7,000 tons with a speed of 35 knots. She was also armed with 4x21-inch torpedo tubes and was capable of carrying 224 mines (notice the mine rails on the fantail). Early versions of the design also carried two Curtis floatplanes. And quite unusual for this period – USS Marblehead was designed with a 3-inch belt armor. In the final design the armament and it’s placement was completely altered – to include twin 6-inch turrets fore and aft. But this is a classic example of the original concept of a “scout cruiser” – long, narrow-hulled, four funnels, and shockingly fast for a WW I era cruiser. This beautifully detailed model is courtesy of @Barroco Hispano. MANY THANKS to @Barroco Hispano for his beautiful warship models. SPECIAL THANKS to my friend and partner, @AP, for his talents, meticulous models, colorful imagination, 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 https://community.simtropolis.com/forums/topic/761469-simtropolis-shipyard/?tab=comments#comment-1766496

Night action – when the only thing you can see is in the beam of a searchlight. And sometimes – that deadly beam of light is turned on you. IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: CUXHAVEN By: Dreadnought & AP Chapter 37: THINGS THAT GO BOOM IN THE NIGHT The sun finally dipped below the western horizon and pitch-black night descended over the battle zone. The enemy could no longer be seen – but he was out there. All around the opposing fleets, the light cruisers, destroyers, and torpedo boats went about their duties. Some were posted to screen their fleet from intruders, while others scurried around in the dark, groping for one another. Suddenly a blinding searchlight switches on and there is the moment of intense fear as the beam swings back and forth before you are caught in its stark, white glare. Seconds later, your world explodes in bellowing orange flashes as massive rifles open fire at point-blank-range. OR – the searchlight beam swings about in a fleeting instant and is switched off – and there is nothing but darkness and the faint thumping of engines, the whisper of a bow wave, or the wash of a ship’s wake. Was it “friend” or “foe”? Thousands of men, on 260 ships milling about in the night, would ask that very question. Some would never know the answer, while others would live just long enough to wish they were somewhere else. It was, without doubt, tougher on the nerves than the pitched-battle of the afternoon – each and every time a dark shape loomed up out of the blackness – and “friendly fire” was just as likely as that of the enemy. While the nature of Scheer's escape, and Jellicoe's failure to react, tend to indicate an overall German superiority in night fighting, the end results of the night actions were no more clear-cut than those of the daylight battle. The cloak of night became complete by 21:05, and though nothing could be seen, it didn’t stop the fighting. From time to time, the night would be lit with gun flashes on the distant horizon as two opposing forces stumbled into one another. Vice-Admiral Jerram’s 2nd Battle Squadron was leading the Grand Fleet, while Vizeadmiral Schmidt’s I Battle Squadron was leading the Hochseeflotte -- and the two were a mere six miles apart. The British 4th Light Cruiser Squadron (Commodore Le Mesurier) was scouting ahead of Jerram when they caught a glimpse of Schmidt’s dreadnoughts. But Mesurier had expected to see Beatty’s battlecruisers, so he signaled Jerram for permission to attack. Fearing the targets were, in fact British, Jerram instructed Mesurier to hold his fire and signaled Jellicoe that he had sighted 1st Battlecruiser Squadron. Minutes later (21:08), SMS Westfalen and Nassau opened with their main and secondary batteries on Mesurier’s 11th Destroyer Flotilla at 8,000 yards. By the time the destroyer captains recovered their wits, the German dreadnoughts had turned away sharply, vanishing as quickly as they had appeared. HMS Iron Duke was some 14,000 yards from the action ahead. Though he saw occasional distant muzzle flashes, Vice-Admiral Jellicoe received only minimal reports from his scouting forces – and some were obvious dead-reckoning errors. He was certain the battle line was in formation, with one light cruiser squadron scouting ahead. But he was not at all certain about the remaining light forces. A cruiser squadron had been assigned to screen his western flank, but he had lost track of them in the chaos right after dark. (They had not reported tangling with German dreadnoughts – so he didn’t know what their status was, nor was he aware of the Germans!) The bulk of the destroyer flotillas were massed at the rear of the British line. This was a precautionary measure serving two purposes: (1) the destroyers would block any German attempt to slip around the rear of the battle fleet, and (2) it would prevent nervous British battleship captains from sinking their own destroyers in the dark. In all truth, Jellicoe had no interest in provoking a night action. He was well aware of the Grand Fleet’s lack of training in night-fighting, and the fleet was ill-equipped for such combat. In contrast, the Germans regularly practiced night tactics, and their capital ships mounted as many as eight or ten 43-inch, power-driven searchlights. In the event the searchlights were disabled in combat, all German ships were provided with star shell. The number of British searchlights were inadequate, their control arrangements were manually operated and less than optimal, and no allowance for star shells had been made. Simply put – the British didn’t plan for a night engagement. Still intent on cutting Scheer off from his base, Jellicoe considered the possibilities. The Germans could swing north for the Skagerrak, through the Kattegat, and on to the Imperial Dockyards at Kiel. But Jellicoe dismissed that idea. It was a long journey and with the Grand Fleet’s speed advantage, Jellicoe could have run them to ground off the Skagen. A second, nearer option, was to make for the Dutch coast and slip behind German minefields offshore, then put into the safe anchorage of the Ems Estuary. The third option was the shortest and nearest to hand. In just a few hours, Scheer’s battle fleet could pass just southwest of Horns Reef and enter the swept minefield channel off Amrum Bank. Once behind the minefields, he could make safe passage to Wilhelmshaven. The Grand Fleet was currently steaming SW, and the muzzle flashes at the head of the column indicated the presence of German light forces. This, in turn, suggested they might be the advance scouts of the Hochseeflotte, and the battle line itself, was somewhere to the west on a parallel course. If Jellicoe maintained his course and speed, the British would remain between Scheer and Horns Reef. And by daylight on 1 June, the British would be in position to block his retreat to the Ems Estuary, as well. Jellicoe fully expected to engage Scheer’s battle fleet at first light. To cover his bases, three British submarines (E-55, E-26, D-1) had been positioned off the Vyl Lightship (Horns Reef general area) at the beginning of the operation – and now Jellicoe despatched the fast minelayer HMS Abdiel to sow a minefield off Horns Reef. At 21:15, he altered course due south – confident he had Scheer where he wanted him. What Jellicoe did not know – and was never reported to him – was the continuing contact with the Hochseeflotte throughout the hours of darkness. Jellicoe could see muzzle flashes ahead of the battle line, and sometimes to the west, and even in the rear of the column. But he thought it merely a few light cruisers or torpedo boats searching for their own fleet -- bungling around in the night and running into the British. Before the age of radar, the only way a fleet commander could get an idea of what his enemy was up to, was by his scouting cruisers gathering information and passing it up the chain. And at night, this was even more vitally important. And yet, only a few of his captains bothered to report – and even these were not always reliable. One such report showed a skirmish in progress, but the position given was smack in the center of the British battle line. Unfortunately, many of the night’s skirmishes and sightings went unreported. Of course, the lack of sighting reports might also have something to do with the Germans diligently jamming British wireless frequencies. On board Friedrich der Grosse, Vizeadmiral Scheer was spending a long night in the chart house off the bridge. Curtains across the entrance shielded the dim light as the Admiral, the Flag Captain, and the Flag Navigator made notations on the chart before them. A steady stream of messengers came from the wireless room, and each new contact with the British Fleet was posted. (The Hochseeflotte did not run an “operational plot” as other navies did, but they were not averse to making use of wireless reports and intercepts when it suited them.) Von Reuter’s 4th Scouting Group, ahead of the battle line, was maintaining contact with the British, and he had already reported Beatty’s battlecruisers disappearing to the SW. Now Reuter was reporting the solid black mass of battleships sliding past in the mist as they followed on a southerly course. It was obvious to Scheer the British were reaching ahead by following a straight-line-course at a higher rate of speed, while his slower ships were slowed even further by having to take evasive action. Scheer knew, with patience and a bit of luck, he might be able to cut across the rear of the British battle fleet and steer for Horns Reef. In anticipation of this bit of luck, around 21:20, Scheer signaled Mauve’s II Battle Squadron to drop back and assume their station at the rear of the line. The old battleships would be safer there and Scheer knew he needed more powerful dreadnoughts in the van – in case they had to fight their way through the British fleet. Mauve was preparing to signal his squadron when, at 21:30, four large, four-funneled, warships were sighted dead ahead. These were the old armored cruisers of the British 2nd Cruiser Squadron (Minotaur, Hampshire, Cochrane, Shannon) passing across Mauve’s bow on their way to join the rear of Beatty’s battlecruisers to the SW. Once the British cruisers were well clear of the area, Mauve ordered a 16-point turn to port in succession at 21:50 and assumed his position at the rear around 22:10. Soon after, they were joined by SMS Derfflinger and Von der Tann, also ordered to the rear by Scheer. I’m sure some enterprising university student could earn his doctorate degree by publishing an accurate chronological listing of the events that followed during the night of 31 May–1 June 1916 – but no one has stepped forward in the last 108 years. With the sources currently available, it is impossible to describe the many night actions in any sort of coherent manner, so if this seems a bit confused, it is small wonder. Some time around 22:10, the various German scouting groups had become fragmented in the darkness, and each cruiser naturally sought safety by joining with other cruisers they came across. The light cruisers of Kommodore von Reuter’s 4th Scouting Group were joined by SMS Frankfurt, Pillau, Hamburg, Rostock, and the damaged Elbing. They were steaming in line-ahead formation off the port beam of the battle fleet. It was quite by accident, but the cruisers formed a powerful screening force that would keep the enemy from discovering the location of the Hochseeflotte. Hamburg and Elbing sighted the British 11th Destroyer Flotilla approaching from the east and flashed the British night recognition signal at destroyer leader, HMS Castor. (The signal had been acquired by observing British ships earlier in the evening. The ever-hapless Ralph Seymour – Flag Signals Officer aboard HMS Lion – lost his recognition codes during the battle and had requested the night recognition signals by signal lamp from a British screening cruiser. A nearby German ship intercepted the codes and promptly relayed them to Hipper and Scheer.) Possibly confused, the British hesitated and gave the Germans time to open fire at a mere 1,000 yards. Both sides launched torpedoes and exchanged fire. HMS Castor and SMS Hamburg were both hit – Castor quite heavily -- then the British veered away into the night. Von Reuter’s squadron had barely reformed when the massive silhouettes of Moltke and Seydlitz loomed up out of the darkness. The two battlecruisers had become separated from the fleet and were steering SE for Horns Reef. SMS Stettin and the other cruisers had to slow down or reverse to avoid a collision. Stettin resumed her course and speed, and a few minutes later, Munchen, Frauenlob, and Stuttgart sighted more ships about 300 yards away. The German recognition signal was flashed at the intruders, and the German cruisers were hit with a hail of gun fire from what turned out to be Commodore Goodenough and the British 2nd Light Cruiser Squadron. HMS Southampton and Dublin switched on their searchlights and instantly became the targets for the entire German cruiser force. HMS Nottingham and Birmingham did not use their searchlights and were able to lob shells at the already illuminated Germans virtually unnoticed. In seconds the whole scene was gun flashes in all directions, shells roaring overhead, shattering explosions as they struck home, and blinding searchlight beams piercing the night. Southampton and Dublin were badly mauled (Dublin was hit 13 times.) and fires broke out on both ships. Commodore Goodenough quickly sheered off, and the British disappeared into the night – but not before Southampton launched a torpedo. Within seconds, SMS Frauenlob was hit in the engine room and her thin skin was ripped open over a large area. Only a few minutes later, she rolled over and went down. SMS Westfalen (left of picture) leads the I Battle Squadron as the Hochseeflotte begins their breakthrough at the rear of the Grand Fleet’s battle line. Westfalen was the second ship in the Nassau Class – the first dreadnoughts commissioned into the Kaiserliche Marine. She is older, smaller, and a bit slower than the more modern German battleships, but she is well armored and packs a main battery of 12x11-inch guns and a rapid fire secondary battery of 12x5.9-inch guns. In the vicious, short-range, in-fighting to come, both will do warm work – and Kapitan Redlich will handle her aggressively. The skirmishing in the space between the two fleets grew more intense as the gap narrowed. And as the British battle fleet reached ahead, Scheer’s battle line slowly fell astern. Around 22:40, Vizeadmiral Scheer decided he could wait no longer and ordered a course change to SE. It was time to make a run for Horns Reef. With that decision, the scene of conflict ceased to be scattered and shifted to the tail of Jellicoe’s column, where the battle fleet’s paths crossed. By roughly 23:00, the Hochseeflotte was approaching Evan-Thomas’ 5th Battle Squadron bringing up the rear of Jellicoe’s line. The Germans were steering SE, the British were holding course to the south, and the German dreadnoughts were just astern and to starboard of HMS Malaya. In between the converging fleets was the British 4th Destroyer Flotilla, led by Captain Wintour aboard HMS Tipperary. The rest of his flotilla was strung out in a line about three miles long. Suddenly, the massive silhouette of a battleship loomed up out of the night on his starboard quarter. As he looked closer, there was actually a line of battleships, and they were about 1,000 yards and closing. Wintour flashed the night recognition signal -- and all Hell broke loose. SMS Westfalen opens fire on the British 4th Destroyer Flotilla. Powerful searchlights switched on, the stark beams splitting the night, fixing on the unlucky destroyer. SMS Westfalen instantly opened with her secondary batteries and smothered the little ship in a fusillade of 80 rounds of 5.9-inch shells. HMS Tipperary was shot to pieces in less than two minutes, with shells crashing into the engine room, the forward gun mount, and the bridge. The forecastle was ablaze, the bridge was wrecked, the main steam pipe was shot through and the little boat came to a stop engulfed in a cloud of steam. Left dead in the water and on fire, she would sink in the wee hours of the morning. Lt. Commander Trelawney, astern in HMS Spitfire, could see Tipperary was done for, and circled around to starboard to come alongside and take off survivors. Just as quickly, Nassau, Rheinland, and the light cruisers Stuttgart and Hamburg opened fire on the British destroyer line and an armored cruiser (apparently HMS Black Prince) just barely visible to the east. The British destroyers gamely returned fire, aiming for the battleship’s searchlights and riddling their upperworks with 4-inch shells. The small caliber rounds did no serious damage, but the absolute hail of shells caused considerable confusion, and one struck near Westfalen’s bridge, killing one and wounding seven – including Kapitan Redlich – while other shells fell among Rheinland’s small caliber batteries, killing ten and wounding 30. Just after dark the British had trained their torpedo tubes over the starboard side – purely as a precaution -- and now loosed them at a range slightly under 1,000 yards. This put the German light cruisers in an unenviable position – they were hemmed-in by their own battleships on the starboard side and had nowhere to turn to escape the oncoming torpedoes. The light cruiser SMS Elbing – Commissioned 1915 – 4,390 tons – 27.5 knots – 8x5.9-inch guns – 2x19.7-inch torpedo tubes – armor 3-inch deck. One of the more modern light cruisers, she conformed to the “standards” of her type – small, fast, and agile, with a strong battery of medium caliber rapid-fire guns. Note the mine laying rails on the fantail. All modern German light cruisers were equipped to do duty as fast minelayers, but not as Jellicoe feared, in the heat of battle. Elbing had fired the opening shots of the Battle of Jutland, but her luck ran out. Now everything seemed to go into motion at once. The light cruiser SMS Rostock put her helm hard-a-starboard and managed to pass safely between Nassau and Rheinland – only because the German battleships also turned hard to starboard to avoid the same torpedoes. SMS Elbing, crowded by the light cruiser Stuttgart, could not maneuver and was forced to attempt passing through the battleships ahead of SMS Posen. With no time to waste, Elbing started her turn -- naturally assuming Posen would give way to avoid a collision. What Fregattenkapitan Madlung, in Elbing, did not realize was that Posen had already put “full helm” on to make her turn – she could turn no further. Kapitan Lange reduced speed, then went to reverse engines, and ordered the battleship’s rudder “hard-a-port” when it became clear there would be a collision. But it was too late – Elbing had cut it too close. Instead of being sliced in half, the light cruiser was struck on the starboard quarter and the collision was hardly felt aboard Posen. The little cruiser took on an immediate 18 degree list, but that was corrected with counter-flooding. The starboard engine room quickly filled with water – and then the port engine room as well. The steering engine failed and the dynamos went out, leaving the ship in total darkness. (Around 01:00, torpedo boats led by S-53 took off 477 men and left only the Kapitan with a small crew to try and save the ship. An hour later, with the enemy all around and throwing the occasional shell at the derelict cruiser, Kapitan Madlung ordered SMS Elbing scuttled. He and his tiny band set off in the ship’s cutter, later joined survivors from HMS Tipperary, and were eventually rescued around 06:00 by a Dutch trawler.) HMS Spitfire and SMS Nassau collide in the chaos of battle. You can see pieces of Spitfire being blown overboard by the muzzle blast of Nassau’s 11-inch guns. Destroyers and torpedo boats were manned and commanded by courageous and bold men – but even boldness may not be enough. There is always the unexpected. After Westfalen led the squadron in the emergency turn-away, she quickly swung back on course. During the evasive maneuver, the Germans had switched off their searchlights, and the British were hesitant to use theirs. Unfortunately, as HMS Spitfire swung back toward the crippled Tipperary, the shadowy bulk of SMS Nassau appeared out of the night – dead ahead. Lt. Commander Trelawny had only seconds to realize the two ships would collide – port bow to port bow. For his part, Kapitan Klappenbach steered Nassau directly for the British destroyer – fully intending to ram her. In a jolting, grinding collision, Nassau heeled over to starboard – possibly ten degrees – but let loose with her forward 11-inch guns as the destroyer slid along her port side. Due to the extra ten degrees of elevation, the shells screeched through the air just feet above Spitfire, but the muzzle blast of the big rifles was more than enough to blow the mast and forward funnel overboard – completely demolishing the upper and lower bridge levels in the process. Nassau’s ram bow penetrated the destroyer, and the grinding collision ripped the little ship open for nearly a third of her length. As Nassau steamed off into the night, she left a twenty-foot section of main belt armor on Spitfire’s forecastle. Miraculously, in a supreme feat of seamanship, Commander Trelawny managed to get his mangled destroyer safely home. The night closed in again, and for a time, all was quiet -- nothing but the low throb of ship’s engines and the sound of the waves passing along the hull. But the peace was deceptive. The British 4th Destroyer Flotilla had been strung out for nearly three miles, and soon the remainder, led by Commander Allen in HMS Broke, came on the scene. Allen could dimly make out a line of battleships in the darkened mist to starboard – not more than half a mile off. Before he could flash the recognition signal, the leading battleship switched on a vertical string of colored lights. The Royal Navy NEVER used colored lights! Allen rattled off a string of orders… ”Starboard twenty, full ahead both engines – starboard torpedo tube fire when your sights come on – all guns green four-oh, a battleship…” Broke swung to starboard to start her attack run, but the game was up! SMS Westfalen’s searchlights blazed out fixing the tiny craft in their beam and Allen heard the first shells screech overhead. Westfalen, Rheinland, and the light cruiser Rostock opened fire within seconds of each other, and rained 5.9-inch shells on Broke. A hundred yards astern, HMS Sparrowhawk (Lt. Commander Hopkins), put her helm over to port so she could circle around and make a direct attack run. German 5.9-inch shells were falling thick and fast, straddling both Broke and Sparrowhawk as they pressed their attack. A young Sub-Lieutenant commanding Sparrowhawk’s forecastle gun caught a glimpse of Broke as a salvo crashed into her small bridge. Broke had put her helm over to fire a torpedo when the enemy shells demolished the bridge. Now the young lieutenant on Sparrowhawk stood transfixed as Broke, her helm jammed, circled sharply to port, came around out of control and heading directly for Sparrowhawk’s bridge at 28 knots. The young officer ordered the forecastle cleared, but before he could get away, Broke slammed into Sparrowhawk. When the smoke cleared, no one could find the young officer. Miraculously, before the two destroyers pulled apart – the “Sub.” came bounding over the ship’s railing and resumed his duties. The force of the collision had thrown him onto Broke’s forecastle and briefly knocked him unconscious! (Twenty-two other men had also been hurled onto Broke’s deck by the force of the collision.) In the sudden confusion, the destroyers astern of the collision sheered out of line in all directions, but HMS Contest saw Sparrowhawk too late and ran into her, slicing off 30 feet of her stern. In the middle of all this chaos, HMS Ambuscade opened fire on Rostock, while HMS Achates launched a torpedo and caught the light cruiser in her No. 4 boiler room. With serious flooding and her dynamos knocked-out, Rostock took on 1,000 tons of water and was reduced to a crawl. Virtually disabled, Fregattenkapitan Feldmann signaled for assistance and the torpedo boat S-54 arrived and took her in tow. The two ships steered SE and were actually able to make 10 knots. They were soon joined by V-71 and V-73 to form an escort back to port. Around 02:55 on 1 June, the light cruiser HMS Dublin came in sight and Rostock’s crew was taken off before the ship was scuttled. HMS Broke and Contest limped off, eventually making port, while Sparrowhawk was abandoned the following day. Just after midnight, the remaining five destroyers of the 4th Flotilla, unaware of what had gone before them, came abreast of the German battleships and were spotted by SMS Westfalen. Her searchlights fixed on HMS Fortune and a blizzard of 5.9-inch shells sank her in less than sixty seconds. SMS Rheinland, Posen, Oldenburg, and Helgoland immediately engaged while the destroyers launched torpedoes and peppered the battleship’s upper works with 4-inch shells. The dreadnoughts quickly executed an eight-point turn to starboard and “combed” the torpedo tracks. Oldenburg’s bridge had been swept by shell splinters, mowing down twenty men, and a wounded Kapitan Hopfner had to step over the dead helmsman to steer the ship clear of danger. The British destroyers sheered off into the night, and it was over in a terrifying four minutes. SMS Thuringen fixes HMS Black Prince in the glare of her searchlights and opens a rapid and accurate fire with her main and secondary batteries. In a matter of seconds, the elderly British armored cruiser will be engaged by five dreadnought battleships of the I Battle Squadron. As I Battle Squadron resumed a SE course, SMS Nassau had to reduce speed due to her collision with HMS Spitfire. While struggling to maintain her place in the line, a big ship emerged from the gloom to the east. When challenged with the recognition signal, the stranger veered away sharply, giving German lookouts a reasonably clear view of her four funnels. There was no mistaking those funnels – she was one of the elderly British armored cruisers -- HMS Black Prince. As a survivor from Arbuthnot’s unlucky 1st Cruiser Squadron, she had wandered about lost in the dark and searching for the fleet. Thinking he had found the British battle line, Captain Bonham now realized he had made a terrible mistake. SMS Thuringen switched on her searchlights and fixed the unfortunate armored cruiser in the beam. The big German 12-inch rifles instantly opened fire at little more than 1,000 yards – point blank range – and ripped open the cruiser’s thinly armored hull. Shells burst inside Black Prince with terrible effect – great gaping holes appeared in her sides and explosions erupted up through her decks. Nassau, Ostfriesland, and even the Hochseeflotte flagship – Friedrich der Grosse – opened on the doomed cruiser. Admiral Scheer later wrote… ”She presented a terrible spectacle as she drifted down the line blazing furiously. It was at such short range the crew could be seen rushing about on the burning deck while our searchlights disclosed the flight of our heavy projectiles till they impacted and exploded.” Intense fires could be seen through the huge holes in her hull – burning deep within the ship – and she was quickly afire from stem to stern. Black Prince managed to get off two partial salvos, but shell after shell smashed into the ship and her gunners were blinded by the searchlight’s glare. They might as well have saved the ammunition for all the good it did. The old armored cruiser burned with a fierce and bright light for all of eight minutes – “a grand but terrible sight” -- until she vaporized in a massive explosion. Of the 857 men aboard, there were no survivors. SMS Nassau turned hard to starboard to avoid the wreck and narrowly avoided a collision with the battleship SMS Kaiserin. And a lost destroyer from the mauled and dispersed 4th Destroyer Flotilla, HMS Ardent, blundered into the German line. The little ship got off one torpedo, but was caught by searchlights at only 900 yards. SMS Westfalen and Posen blasted her to pieces in under two minutes, switched off their searchlights, and were once again enveloped in darkness. SMS Thuringen was the second ship in the Helgoland Class – the second class of dreadnoughts commissioned into the Kaiserliche Marine – and they were conspicuous in being the only German dreadnoughts to have three funnels. They followed the gunnery layout of the previous Nassau Class, but their guns were upgraded to 12-inch. Though not as “flashy” as the battlecruisers, nor as modern as the Konig Class, they added valuable heavy caliber firepower to the battle line. SMS Westfalen was, literally, cutting her way through the British flotillas massed at the rear of Jellicoe’s line. The destroyers were supposed to block the escape route of the Hochseeflotte, and the little ships repeatedly fought vicious and deadly actions in the misty darkness. But they were not properly trained nor equipped to fight night actions. The German behemoths dodged their torpedoes, sank or scattered their ships, and doggedly steamed to the SE. About 00:30 1 June, SMS Westfalen spotted more British destroyers about 1,100 yards off her port bow. The British had painted their destroyers black, which they assumed would make them blend in with the darkness. But it was actually too black and made them stand out against whitecaps and their own wakes. Westfalen had discovered the 9th, 10th, and 13th Destroyer Flotillas and turned to ram, forcing HMS Petard to take evasive action. The battleship delivered a rapid-fire raking broadside as Petard turned away with a large oil fire burning amidships. HMS Turbulent, astern of Petard, was immediately taken under fire, smothered with 5.9-inch rounds, then rammed and sunk by Westfalen. In the short, but brutal clash, SMS Frankfurt and Pillau, screening I Battle Squadron, had loomed up out of the darkness and very nearly rammed the destroyers HMS Menace and Nonsuch. The light cruisers then opened a furious fire with their 5.9-inch batteries and severely damaged both HMS Nessus and Onslaught. And then it went dark and silent, again. Simply put – it was not a good night for little ships lost on a big, dark ocean, inhabited by hostile battleships. It had, so far, been a vicious and terrifying night, full of gun fire, burning warships, and the massive explosion of an armored cruiser. And yet – no reports of these events was received by HMS Iron Duke. What’s more, Jellicoe’s captains seemed to be positively reluctant to message their C.-in-C. A classic example occurred aboard HMS Malaya while the destroyer Turbulent was being pounded to rubble just three miles astern. Malaya was bringing up the rear of 5th Battle Squadron – the last battleship in Jellicoe’s line. Captain Boyle was on the bridge wing, his binoculars trained on the action astern as Westfalen cut her way through the 4th Destroyer Flotilla. Malaya’s big 15-inch rifles were trained on the clearly identified German battleship, but Capt. Boyle refused the gunnery officer’s request to open fire. Boyle reasoned..”Rear-Admiral Evan-Thomas is only two ships ahead...if he wants Malaya to shoot, he will surely signal us to do so.” In short – he would not open fire and give away his own position unless ordered to do so. Aboard Barham, Captain Waller later justified Evan-Thomas’ inactivity on the grounds that…”the C.-in-C. need not be bothered with a string of superfluous signals...and using the radio might give away the fleet’s location.” Once, before the war, Vice Admiral Callaghan (then commanding the Home Fleet) had held the annual naval maneuvers in the Atlantic between Portsmouth and Gibraltar – and Jellicoe had been present as second in command. The last phase of the maneuvers involved a mock battle off Vigo, Spain – a night engagement. It was, to put it mildly, a complete shambles. The only positive result was that none of the ships managed to ram each other in the dark. Jellicoe was aghast – to say the least. He came away with the firm belief the Royal Navy was in no way equipped to fight in the dark – either technologically or mentally. During the ensuing two years at war, Jellicoe improved the equipment somewhat, but did nothing to train the officers and men in the art of night fighting. He simply saw no value in it. Consequently, neither he nor his battle fleet commanders sought to engage the enemy during the night phase of the battle. Malaya’s Capt. Boyle never gave a thought to opening fire to chase away Turbulent’s tormentors. Thoroughly indoctrinated in the hidebound class structure of the Royal Navy, he knew the decision to open fire was the sole prerogative of a flag officer. And no flag officer with two brain cells to rub together would risk his dreadnoughts in a cut-throat night action – against Jellicoe’s wishes. And so – the passivity of the big British dreadnoughts was absolute. For his part, Admiral Jellicoe could see the muzzle flashes at the rear of his column. But he had always suspected the Germans might launch a massed night torpedo attack against the rear of the battle fleet. (Just one among many things that kept him awake at night.) He naturally assumed the German torpedo boats were making the long-feared attack, and his destroyers were turning them back. He certainly received no reports to tell him otherwise. The Admiralty code-breakers in Room 40 had been intercepting a string of German signals that clearly betrayed their intentions. (The Germans would have done well to practice a bit of “radio silence”.) First, Scheer requested air reconnaissance over Horns Reef at first light. Next, Kommodore Michelson signaled all torpedo boat flotillas to rendezvous off Horns Reef at 03:00. And Scheer transmitted four separate position reports to Wilhelmshaven over the course of the night. Room 40 knew exactly where the Hochseeflotte was. But the Admiralty passed to Jellicoe only one of the signals – merely giving his position, course, and speed. This information was based on an intercepted signal from Kommodore Heinrich in SMS Regensburg which contained a dead reckoning error of 10 miles. When Jellicoe had the information plotted on the map, it indicated the Hochseeflotte was steering south some 10 miles ahead of the Grand Fleet – which Jellicoe knew to be impossible. Due to the Admiralty’s earlier mistakes regarding the location of the High Sea Fleet – Jellicoe put no faith in the single message. Had the Admiralty sent ALL the signal information, Jellicoe would most certainly have pieced it together and confronted Scheer off Horns Reef at first light on 1 June. As it was, the Grand Fleet stoically held course south and then SSE – completely ignorant as the van of the German battle fleet cut and slashed its way through the British rearguard. Once clear of the annoying British destroyers, Kapitan Redlich swung SMS Westfalen’s bow back to the SE for a clear run to Horns Reef. Redlich’s aggressive tactics had gotten I Battle Squadron through the British destroyer flotillas in a harrowing series of vicious encounters in the darkness. But Scheer and his battle fleet were not yet free of danger…... NEXT TIME…… THE LONG JOURNEY HOME Since there were so few game illustrations in this chapter, I have thrown together an impromptu tour of Cuxhaven…... This is a partial overview of Cuxhaven naval base as seen from the north. In the center of the picture is the Inner basin, while the East Mooring Basin is on the left. You will notice the “capital ships” of 1st Scouting Group are moored across the roadsted, along the outer breakwater. This is a closer view of the East Mooring Basin. This is where the light cruisers of the Scouting Groups are berthed. The number of light cruisers assigned to the Hochseeflotte varied according to circumstances – maintenance – special duties – etc, etc. Normally there would be four light cruisers with each of the 2nd and 4th Scouting Groups, with another three assigned as torpedo boat flotilla leaders. Other light cruisers might be assigned duty as a minelayer or as escorts for minesweeping operations. Still others might be temporarily assigned to duty in the Baltic Sea. This shot shows a little more detail of the piers and ships. I am very fortunate to have quite a few excellent cruiser models provided by @Barroco Hispano, so I have chosen to include several foreign cruisers as well as a few of historical note from the WW II time frame. All the models are superbly detailed and should be of interest. One more random shot from a different angle. “Nesting” at a berth was quite common in most navies of the period – especially in crowded harbors, with smaller vessels. On the left you see SMS Dresden – 1907 and Emden – 1908. Both cruisers were hunted down and sunk in the early months of The Great War. On the right are SMS Karlsruhe – 1912 and SMS Rostock – 1912. Karlsruhe was lost east of Barbados due to an internal explosion in November 1914, and Rostock (a torpedo boat flotilla leader) was heavily damaged at Jutland and later scuttled. Due to the crowded nature of the naval anchorage, the salvage tugs have had to share berthing space with the warships. This is their “station” – squeezed onto the end of one of the long berthing quays. The old wooden control tower can be seen on the right – adjacent to an anchor maintenance facility. This is a close-up of the Langeoog Class salvage tugs. The model is meticulously detailed and based on the famous “SS Foundation Franklin”. Even the two massive towing winches can be seen directly abaft the second funnel. This is, perhaps, my favorite of all the fine models (so far) created by @AP. If you look in the upper right of the picture, you will see a variety of dockside activity in progress. I used a wide selection of props to make 1x1 custom lots depicting various types of work going on. Rather than make large, “set-piece” lots, I prefer to use the 1x1 lots to “build” large facilities – much like a jigsaw puzzle. This allows much greater variety and far less repetition. The superb small props by “AP” contributed greatly to this – and his “Imperial sailors and officers” come in many poses and are crucial to the concept of the “busy harbor”. Here’s a shot of the lower end of one of the basins. The very end of these sorts of basins always tended to be “catch-alls”. If some tug captain wasn’t exactly sure where to put something, it usually wound up at the end of a basin. A parked crane barge with a tug stands by, while a Sophia Class paddle tug adds one more lighter to the jumble. The lighters, small boats, and tug are by “AP”. This is a close-up from a different angle. This view gives you a good look at the details built into these models – and – this is a great angle on the paddle tug Esmeralda. The small boat crews have come alongside to secure the new lighter to the other two. This is the Italian light cruiser Duca degli Abruzzi – one of those interesting foreign cruisers I mentioned. Duca degli Abruzzi Class light cruiser: commissioned 1937 – 11,350 tons – 34 knots – 10x6-inch guns – 8x4-inch guns – 6x21-inch torpedo tubes – 4 aircraft – belt armor 4 inches. Like all Italian warships, these were handsome vessels, with sleek lines and an extremely high speed. In WW II, these ships were employed rather conservatively, but once in combat – they were handled aggressively and the Royal Navy was wary of them. In this close-up, you can see that the main armament was deployed in two triple and two double turrets – a method primarily used in the Italian Navy. Naval architects, serving naval officers, and historians have debated the efficiency of the Italian main battery turrets. In particular, the US Navy, thought the barrels were grouped too closely to one another – an opinion also held by Royal Navy designers. When a shell leaves the barrel of a gun, it creates air turbulence along its flight path – much like a boat leaves a wake. The US Navy, based on theory – and the Royal Navy, based on combat experience – were of the opinion that “shell air turbulence” caused Italian salvos to land in an erratic pattern. This, of course, would have put them at a disadvantage during combat. But – it is worth noting that not all “experts” agree on the theory. MANY THANKS to @Barroco Hispano for his beautiful warship models. SPECIAL THANKS to my friend and partner, @AP, for his talents, meticulous models, colorful imagination, 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 https://community.simtropolis.com/forums/topic/761469-simtropolis-shipyard/?tab=comments#comment-1766496

SMS Moltke – guns blazing with a “bone in her teeth” (a pronounced bow wave) as she charges along at 27 knots – tactical #3 in the battlecruiser line during the “Death Ride”. Moltke, under utmost speed was capable of 28 knots, but by this time of the day, the German warships were suffering the effects of inferior coal. The low grade coal did not fully burn and the fire boxes were filling up with “clinkers”. The problem was especially acute on the smaller light cruisers and torpedo boats. (Willy Stower) IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: CUXHAVEN By: Dreadnought & AP Chapter 36: DEATH RIDE OF THE BATTLECRUISERS The III Battle Squadron of the Hochseeflotte is under heavy fire and steering toward the British battle line during the “second encounter” of the Battle of Jutland. Left to right are the dreadnought battleships SMS Kronprinz, Markgraf, Grosser Kurfurst, and Konig leading the van. (Claus Bergen) Far to the east, twilight was descending into darkness as the sun sank toward the western horizon. But Vizeadmiral Reinhard Scheer could not see the eastern horizon. Nor could he see the northern horizon, for that matter. All he could see from the bridge of SMS Friedrich der Grosse was a veritable forest of shell splashes from the enemy guns and rolling smoke from his own guns – and everything frequently lit a dull orange as a British shell found a target among his battleships. When he did manage to get a glimpse beyond the smoke and water columns, all he could see – from horizon to horizon -- was a churning bank of smoke, lit with the flickering muzzle flashes of more than two hundred big guns. Instead of slipping east across the wake of the Grand Fleet, Scheer had managed to stumble into the center of their battle fleet – for the second time. He knew the only solution was to disengage from the enemy – but it would have to be a quick and clean break. He needed to disrupt the British battle line long enough to escape back into the haze and smoke. At 19:13, Scheer signaled Hartog’s battlecruisers with a flag hoist – “9R”. In any naval signal book of the day, flags denoted certain things with a variety of colors and symbols, which are explained in the signal book. In this case, #9 is the “series” and “R” is the instruction. The signals officer would scan down the pages until he hit series 9, and then look for the “R”. Beside “9R” in the Imperial Naval Signals book, it said...”ran an den Feind – voll einsetzen!”. Historically, the Imperial flag signal codes had originated in the old Prussian Navy of the 1860’s. In those days, many ranking naval officers had started military life in the Prussian Army, with the result that some instructions in the flag book were a bit archaic and sounded more like orders to a heavy cavalry regiment. Very “loosely translated”, “9R” said...”PANZERKREUZER AT THE ENEMY! GIVE IT EVERYTHING!” Scheer would hurl the battlecruisers at the enemy to draw their attention away from the battle line. What transpired thereafter, was both the most splendid and the most foolhardy moment in, perhaps, the entire recorded history of the Dreadnought Era. The four remaining battlecruisers – Derfflinger, Seydlitz, Moltke, and Von der Tann – had sunk three British battlecruisers that day -- fought Beatty, Evan-Thomas, Hood, and then Jellicoe – and had been brutally battered by heavy shells. Von der Tann had only her 5.9-inch guns left in the fight, and all the ships and crews had been in a continuous high-speed gunnery action for nearly four hours. When the signal was read out on Derfflinger’s bridge, Kapitan Hartog did not hesitate, he merely ordered...”Steady on course – ring for utmost speed”. Within seconds thick black smoke gushed from the funnels as the engineers sprayed oil on the boiler fires, and the big battlecruiser began to gather speed. With Vizeadmiral Hipper still aboard the torpedo boat G-39, it fell to Hartog and Derfflinger to lead the already badly damaged Imperial battlecruisers directly into "the greatest concentration of naval gunfire any fleet commander had ever faced" – at an insanely short range. In Seydlitz, Kapitan von Egidy read Scheer’s signal and told the handset operators to pass the word to the crew. As the various stations acknowledged the message, there was a pause, then the sound of cheering came through the voice pipes, ventilation shafts, and the passageways. Soon the stirring strains of “Wacht am Rhein” could be heard. Down in the boiler rooms, the sweaty, grimy, exhausted stokers rang their shovels on the deck plates and shouted...”Drauf Seydlitz – Drauf Seydlitz!” (Attack Seydlitz! -- the battle cry of Frederick the Great’s cuirassier cavalry.) As the Panzerkreuzer gathered speed and steered for the British line, their crews hadn’t a thought their actions over the next few minutes would forever be enshrined in legend and glory. It was, in fact, the single “greatest concentration of naval gunfire” ever seen in all of history. The low and sleek cruisers, pale gray against the blue-gray sea erupting and boiling around them, steered east at speed – their Imperial battle ensigns whipping straight and stiff at the masthead. Kapitan Hartog did not have time to savor the grand and gallant action of his ships – nor, perhaps, would his warrior’s mind have grasped the symbolism. He was fully absorbed in hurling at the British, the best science, technology, and metallurgy the German analytical mind could devise. And opposing him was the steel-sided, fire-breathing embodiment of victory – a British battle fleet with a naval tradition stretching back to Sir Francis Drake and the Spanish Armada. Actually, the symbolism might not have been lost on Hartog – he was known to be well-read in European military history. But he knew the “grand gesture” he and his ships were making was far more important that any symbolism that might be attributed to it in later years. And so began what came to be known as...“The Death Ride Of The Battlecruisers”. This rather “romanticized” phrase only came into use after The Great War, when Korvettenkapitan von Hase, Derfflinger’s gunnery officer, wrote his book. But it does capture the courage and determination of the officers and men who manned the Imperial battlecruisers. All the Panzerkreuzer, with the exception of SMS Moltke, were seriously damaged. Nevertheless, they increased speed and surged toward the enemy battle line, their gunners firing at any target they could see. Even Von der Tann, with only her 5.9-inch guns left, steamed toward the flaming maw of the Grand Fleet’s guns. As the gun action heated up, III Torpedo Boat Flotilla, retiring from their battle around Wiesbaden, cut through Scheer’s battle line and regrouped on the light cruiser SMS Rostock (on the starboard flank). With their torpedoes expended, they would take up screening duty. At 19:15, Scheer sent a wireless message to his remaining flotillas to charge the British line and launch torpedoes. The light cruiser SMS Regensburg rallied the II, VI, VII, and IX Flotillas and steered to the NE. The little torpedo craft began laying a thick smokescreen as they advanced, fanning out so the smoke would cover Scheer’s maneuver. The attack was utterly reckless, but absolutely essential. Scheer’s battle fleet was within 10,000 yards of the enemy and still closing. If he was going to make good his escape, he would have to thoroughly disrupt the enemy battle line. SMS Derfflinger, battered and down by the bow, leads the Imperial battlecruisers on “The Death Ride” against the British Grand Fleet. Thick black smoke gushes from her funnels as the engines strain at full speed. Though heavily damaged, she will do her duty and help save Scheer’s battle fleet. THE Imperial battlecruisers approached the British line at high speed and Derfflinger, as lead ship, came under a particularly galling fire. There is no way to tell with any certainty how many enemy ships concentrated their fire on the “Iron Dog”, but it was certainly no fewer than 12 battleships -- the British 3rd, 4th, 5th, and 6th Battleship Divisions were the nearest to her with a clear line of sight. And the 15-inch-gunned HMS Royal Oak and Revenge were well placed to bring their massive guns into action. Derfflinger and Seydlitz (just astern) frequently disappeared from view as a dozen shell splashes leapt high into the air and rained down tons of water onto their decks. Near misses plunged into the water alongside and exploded, shaking the battlecruisers as if they had been struck by a giant hammer. And then, there were the shells that struck home. When Richard Wagner composed “Der Ring des Nibelungen”, he could not have foreseen the death and destruction of Jutland – but surely this last act of the Imperial battlecruisers was their own “Gotterdammerung” (Twilight Of The Gods). As “point ship” of the German battle line, SMS Derfflinger was the “target of choice”, and her luck ran out around 19:15, when a 15-inch shell fired by HMS Revenge penetrated the roof of “D” turret. The huge shell detonated on the right hand powder hoist, set fire to the charges in the hoist, and completely burned-out the turret. There was no danger of an explosion, but 75 men were killed and “D” magazine was flooded as a precaution. Between 19:16 and 19:17 (yes – just two minutes) four more hits were scored by Revenge. One 15-inch shell penetrated the barbette of “C” turret just below the gun house and exploded -- just below and between the gun breeches. Again, the powder charges in the hoists ignited, killed 68 men, and burned-out the turret. Derfflinger had lost both stern turrets in the space of two minutes. Two of the big shells plunged into the quarter deck and exploded below, blasting a pair of 15-foot holes in the deck, while causing extensive damage to the compartments below, and starting a raging fire. The final shell from Revenge went through Derfflinger’s forward funnel about three feet above the bridge. A short time later, two 15-inch shells from HMS Royal Oak passed through the aft funnel, while a 12-inch round from HMS Bellerophon plowed into the forward armored conning tower. Korvettenkapitan von Hase was directing his guns from inside the upper level… “Suddenly, it was as if we had heard the crack of Doom. A terrific roar, a tremendous explosion, and then darkness. The whole conning tower seemed to rise into the air, only to fall back into position. We tumbled about like stones in a bucket, then poisonous yellow-green gases filled the tower and we managed to get the heavy door open with great difficulty to breath fresh air. To our great relief, the heavy shell had failed to penetrate the thick steel.” Hammered by large caliber shells, with her aft turrets enveloped in a raging inferno, Derfflinger shouldered her way through the towering water columns and held course for the British battle fleet. SMS Seydlitz, battered and with smoldering fires, follows Derfflinger on “the Death Ride” against the British Grand Fleet. (Claus Bergen) Next astern of Derfflinger was SMS Seydlitz and, she too, came in for her share of attention. At 19:17 a 15-inch shell disabled the right hand gun barrel of “E” turret. And around 19:20, a 12-inch shell fired by HMS St. Vincent impacted the gun house of the burnt-out “C” turret, igniting a furious powder fire from charges still in the loading trays. Both Seydlitz and Derfflinger would burn for hours. Moltke, with her luck holding, managed to avoid any damage during the “Death Ride”. Little Von der Tann, expertly handled by Kapitan Zenker, continued to dodge salvos and took only one hit during the “second encounter” with the Grand Fleet. A 15-inch shell from HMS Revenge struck the rear of the aft conning tower, and though it failed to penetrate, it exploded on contact and splinters entered through the vision slits, killing four men. Unfortunately, the massive spray of splinters also penetrated the fantail deck and knocked-out a dynamo, plunging the below-decks compartments into darkness. SMS Seydlitz on fire in several places and burning fiercely from the second hit on the burnt-out “C” turret. Seydlitz would be the most heavily damaged capital ship in the Hochseeflotte to survive the Battle Of Jutland. This picture was taken the day after the battle, and in the end, it was a miracle she managed to make Wilhelmshaven. Hartog’s Panzerkreuzer continued their reckless charge, closing the range to under 7,700 yards – so close, no armor in existence could prevent shell penetration. Though battered, the Imperial battlecruisers held their course, maintained their speed, and kept up a steady fire against the enemy line. But no amount of courage and determination was going to overcome the odds they faced. Around 19:16, there was unexpected relief from the madness. Derfflinger’s lookouts spotted a flag signal on Friedrich der Grosse’s halyards ordering a course change...”Operate against the enemy’s van”. Kapitan Hartog went out on the bridge wing, verified the signal, and only then did he order a four point turn to starboard. Hartog swung his battlecruisers onto a southerly course, parallel to the British battle line and continued to engage – but he now had leeway to maneuver. As he fought a running gun duel to the south, Hartog gradually opened the range to something less suicidal. To his credit Scheer, during his later audience with the Kaiser, regaled His Majesty with the heroism of the Panzerkreuzer…,,, “When the signal was given to attack the British line with the utmost ferocity, the battlecruisers threw themselves at the enemy without regard to their own safety. The sight of our battlecruisers steaming at full speed against the enemy, while their shells fell all about, was an inspiration to the entire fleet. Although a number of their guns were unable to fire, and some of the ships were severely damaged, they did not hesitate to advance recklessly towards the enemy. Their conduct is especially deserving of the highest possible praise...” The Kaiser was nearly overcome with the very thought of the scene. Seydlitz in the heat of battle as “the Death Ride” nears its climax. Notice how the ship is closed-in on all sides by rolling gun smoke and towering water columns from near misses. As many as a dozen British battleships have taken her under fire and at slightly more than 7,000 yards, her upper works have been shredded by 6-inch shells and splinter damage. Her blackened “C” turret was hit and burnt-out early in the battle and the gun tubes are still elevated over the starboard side. Numerous shell casings ejected from the rear of “D” turret lie among the battle debris strewn about the decks. (Claus Bergen) About the same time Hartog made his turn to the south (around 19:20), the massed flotillas of the Hochseeflotte threw themselves at the British battle line. Five flotillas struggled through the fusillade of shells hurled at them -- thick smoke churning from their funnels trailed astern -- laying the smoke screen Scheer so desperately needed to conceal his dreadnoughts. The little torpedo boats spread out into attack mode and formed up in “waves”. They were having difficulty working into an attack position and were, for the most part, operating at reduced speeds. The small boats only had a few boilers in their slim hulls, and the inferior German coal was “playing-up” in the fireboxes. The low grade coal burned slowly and not even fully. This resulted in a build-up of “clinkers” in the fireboxes – seriously hampering efforts to maintain steam pressure. The little craft had been in constant motion for several hours, and mostly at high speed – they simply did not have the time nor opportunity to “trim their fires” and keep them hot. At the same time, the ever-present British destroyers emerged from between the columns of dreadnoughts and sought to blunt the German attack. Torpedo boats from several flotillas had no remaining torpedoes, and they peeled off to engage the enemy. The torpedo boats moving to the attack simply fended off the English destroyers with gunfire as they rushed past, leaving them to be dealt with by their flotilla mates. A British destroyer flotilla coming out from behind the British battle line to repel the mass attack of the German torpedo boats. German torpedo boats closing with the British battle line to deliver a diversionary torpedo attack while Scheer extricates his fleet from a critical situation. The little torpedo boats closed, in some cases, to less than 6,500 yards to launch their torpedoes – an insanely close range for a daylight torpedo attack. The VI and IX Flotillas worked their way in to about 8,000 yards, then started their attack run. The British dreadnoughts shifted fire onto the attacking torpedo boats and opened with both main and secondary batteries. The battleships kept up a rapid fire, the big guns aimed in the enemy’s general direction. Even if they did not obtain a direct hit, a near miss with a heavy caliber shell might be enough to disable the flimsy torpedo boats. The German “first wave” pressed in to 6,500 yards, twisting and turning to avoid the heavy fire. Shell splashes towered high into the air before crashing down on the torpedo boat’s exposed decks. Shell splinters from near misses whirred through the air like angry hornets, punching holes in funnels, the thin hull plates, and the torpedo crews working their weapons mounts. When human endurance could bear no more, the small boats swerved to port, loosed their torpedoes, and zig-zagged back into their own smoke. The “second wave” was supposed to be made up of the II and VII Flotillas, but the II Flotilla lost their way in the thick smoke, and by the time their eleven boats located the enemy, they were no longer in a position to delivered their 63 torpedoes against the British battle line. (The other German flotillas had already retired from the fight, and the British battle line was well out of range and steaming out of danger. A major “lost” opportunity for the Germans.) Meanwhile, the VII Flotilla had gamely followed their predecessors to a little less than 7,000 yards before unleashing their torpedoes. The third wave of boats went in right behind them, joined by three stragglers from III Flotilla that still had torpedoes. They had to struggle to get into an attack position, because the Grand Fleet had already begun to turn away from the danger. The boats in the third wave finally fired their torpedoes in the general direction of the retreating dreadnoughts on the theory that with so many targets they had to hit something. (This was a then-current tactical theory held by both the British and US navies – referred to as a “browning shot”. With an enemy arrayed in a line-ahead formation, you massed the torpedo craft, fired the torpedoes, and about 30% of them would likely strike a target. As with most theories, it worked better on paper than in practice.) German torpedo boats have launched their torpedoes at the British battle line and are taking evasive action as they begin a zig-zag withdrawal under murderous fire. Lookouts aboard HMS Iron Duke spotted the mass of enemy torpedo boats rushing toward the fleet and alerted Jellicoe. He immediately ordered the signal officer to hoist the pennant for an “emergency turn-away”. The Grand Fleet first turned away two points to port, then two minutes later, Jellicoe ordered them back to starboard, mistakenly believing he had avoided the torpedoes. Swinging back into the path of oncoming torpedoes, Jellicoe was forced to order a three point turn to port, putting them on a SE course. The Germans launched a number of torpedoes despite the British destroyer attacks and the chaos of heavy gunfire from the battle line. The quoted number varies from 21 to 41 torpedoes – so it is impossible to say how many were actually fired. And though the turn-away was executed promptly, it was not nearly enough helm to get out of danger -- and the torpedoes only had a short distance to cover. HMS Marlborough, Colossus, Hercules, and Agincourt (5th and 6th Battleship Divisions), all had to put their helms hard over to avoid numerous torpedoes. HMS Marlborough seemed to attract the German torpedoes, with one each passing ahead and astern, and a third traveling beneath the battleship without exploding. Another torpedo passed between Iron Duke and Thunderer – one each passed ahead and astern of both HMS Collingwood and HMS Temeraire. And HMS Revenge had to put her helm over twice in succession as two pairs of torpedoes sped past. But the nearness of these “known” torpedoes does not imply a failure on the part of the Germans or their torpedoes. The goal of the torpedo boats was to disrupt the British battle line – and they had certainly done that. But if Jellicoe had chosen not to turn away from the torpedoes, there is every possibility he could have had eight dreadnoughts torpedoed and withdrawn from the battle line – including his own flagship. Out of those eight, five could easily have gone to the bottom. HMS Marlborough, having already taken one torpedo, would most certainly have succumbed to a second hit. In the end, there were no torpedo hits on the dreadnoughts of the Grand Fleet – and it was entirely due to Jellicoe’s prompt signal to turn away from the danger. The Germans had two torpedo boats badly damaged, while HMS Iron Duke sent a third boat to the bottom with two 13.5-inch shells. Within hours of returning to Scapa Flow, Vice-Admiral Jellicoe was being criticized for turning away from the enemy torpedoes instead of turning toward them. Why? Because, unknowingly, it was at this moment of chaos that he lost contact with the Hochseeflotte. He was steaming away from the enemy while his enemy was steaming away from him. With the Imperial battlecruisers and the massed torpedo boat flotillas fully engaged, and the smoke screen across the bows of his battle line -- Vizeadmiral Scheer seized the moment of maximum confusion. At 19:18 he signaled his third “battle turn-away” of the day. This time the maneuver was not executed with the same precision as the others. During the second encounter with the English battle fleet, the German ships had strayed from their careful formation – some to open the firing arcs of their guns – others to dodge salvos. Some of the German dreadnoughts had been damaged and were having difficulty maintaining their station in the battle line. Some were “bunched-up”, and still others had slowed down to avoid collision. But the “cluster” gradually sorted itself out, and by 19:30 the Hochseeflotte was making best speed to the west – completely unobserved by the British. When Kapitan Hartog received Scheer’s signal to turn away, he immediately swung the battlecruisers SW and began making smoke. Once the smoke covered his wake, the enemy firing stopped, and the badly battered 1st Scouting Group altered course to WSW, and later to west. By 19:26 Derfflinger’s lookouts sighted the lead elements of the Hochseeflotte. As they drew nearer, Scheer signaled a course change to SW, and ordered the battlecruisers to take station off I Battle Squadron’s port beam. During the approximately ten minutes of the “second encounter”, the German battleships suffered some 108 dead, while SMS Konig had been hit 10 times, Grosser Kurfurst-8, Markgraf-5, and Kaiser-2. SMS Helgoland had been hit once, Oldenburg-1, Rheinland-1, Nassau-2, and Westfalen-1 (all medium caliber shells). Kronprinz, Prinzregent Luitpold, Kaiserin, Friedrich der Grosse, Ostfriesland, Thuringen, and Posen received no damage during the second encounter. Understandably, the first three ships leading the battle line had suffered the most damage, but for all the “steel” that had been thrown at them, there were surprisingly few hits – and none of them critical. Of course, during the entire day of battle, the dreadnought battleships of the Hochseeflotte had only been directly engaged for just under an hour. The Imperial battlecruisers, on the other hand, had been closely engaged for all of five hours – and they were in bad shape. SMS Lutzow was struck by 25 large caliber shells and suffered 128 dead. Too badly damaged to continue, she had already been detached to make for Wilhelmshaven (but would eventually founder). SMS Derfflinger lost 158 dead, was struck by 18 large caliber shells (10 of which, were 15-inch), and still had one operational main battery turret. She had taken on some water, but was capable of maintaining her place in the line. SMS Seydlitz was hit by 21 large caliber shells (source BundesArchive) and one torpedo, lost 98 dead, and though heavily damaged and down by the bow, she could make 18 knots. SMS Moltke, miraculously, had received only 4 hits during the course of the day (by 15-inch shells) and took on about 1,000 tons of water, but with no significant damage and only 16 dead. While striking HMS Tiger 13 times, Moltke emerged from the maelstrom virtually intact. SMS Von der Tann was hit by 4 large caliber shells during the day (two of them 15-inch) and only lost 11 dead. Both “A” and “C” turrets were jammed by shell fire, while the guns of both “B” and “D” turrets overheated and jammed in their slides. One 15-inch shell struck her aft below the waterline and caused serious flooding. Through the Herculean efforts of the damage control and repair parties, Von der Tann maintained her place in the line. Turret crews and mechanics worked tirelessly to repair and replenish the recoil systems on the midships gun turrets, while artificers had even used explosive charges to clear the twisted metal jamming the stern turret. Soon after nightfall, three of Von der Tann’s turrets were restored to operation. It is late in the day, and 2nd Battleship Division of the Grand Fleet is steaming SW in parallel pursuit of the Hochseeflotte. Note the very hazy visibility at the end of the column. As the Hochseeflotte steered SW at 17 knots, Jellicoe turned the Grand Fleet SSW and maintained speed at 18 knots. He was determined to hold onto his tactical advantage by keeping between Scheer and his escape routes to the east. But though they were no longer at each other’s throats, the shipboard routine was anything but “business as usual”. As dusk deepened into night, a pause in the action from roughly 20:20 to 21:00 allowed the German crews to tend to immediate needs. With darkness approaching, men were hurriedly detailed to prepare the big searchlights for nighttime action – making good splinter damage where possible, and restoring severed power leads. Turret crews and mechanics worked in the dim light, tending to the big guns they served -- cutting away wreckage, replacing broken instruments, and restoring power leads and voice tubes. There were, of course, casualties that had to be dealt with – and the gun crews had been confined to their turrets under a great deal of stress – they needed fresh air and rest. The shot-away signal halyards and wireless aerials needed to be replaced and there were still fires to put out. And there were hundreds of splinter holes to be plugged, shell holes to be patched, and weakened bulkheads to be shored-up. Most important of all, the drain inlets to the pumps had to be regularly cleared of blast debris so the seawater in the flooded compartments could be held in check. The engine room crews had been hard at it since early afternoon – the engines running at full revolutions – gauges to be watched, valves to be adjusted -- and the sudden flurry of activity when orders came from the bridge. On the other side of the watertight bulkhead, the back-breaking effort to maintain a full head of steam had taken its toll. Stokers on a coal-fired ship -- steaming at high speed -- had the never-ending job of feeding the boilers. With the forced-draft fans whirring at full speed, the fireboxes devoured coal just about as fast as a man could shovel it. At the height of the battle, the teams of stokers had to be changed out regularly, and replacements were kept handy if someone fell out in the stoke hold. Stripped to the waist and sweating like pigs, they were covered head to toe with the coal dust that hung in the air. Nearing the limits of human endurance, they too, would have to be relieved, fed, provided with a “pint”, and allowed topside for fresh air. In the descending darkness, while all this feverish work was going on, Scheer altered course to the south around 19:50 and began “getting his house in order”. The Hochseeflotte had taken something of a pounding, and was a bit strung-out as a result. The Flottenchef did his best to gather his squadrons and tighten-up the formation before darkness made it impossible. Kommodore von Reuter’s light cruisers of the 4th Scouting Group (Stettin, Munchen, Frauenlob, Stuttgart, Hamburg) were scouting about two miles in advance of the battle fleet. The pre-dreadnoughts of Konteradmiral Mauve’s II Battle Squadron (Hannover, Pommern, Schlesien, Schleswig-Holstein, Hessen, Deutschland) were at the head of the main body. About a half mile off their port quarter, Kapitan Hartog’s four remaining battlecruisers were guarding the eastern flank of the two leading battle squadrons (II and I). Vizeadmiral Schmidt followed on a parallel course about two miles to the north with the I Battle Squadron (Westfalen, Nassau, Rheinland, Posen, Oldenburg, Helgoland, Thuringen, Ostfriesland). Scheer’s flagship, Friedrich der Grosse was attached to the tail of I Battle Squadron. About a half mile astern was, Konteradmiral Behncke and the III Battle Squadron (Prinzregent Luitpold, Kaiserin, Kronprinz, Markgraf, Grosser Kurfurst, Konig). With her battle damage, SMS Markgraf was having trouble keeping up, but Behncke was making best possible speed to try and close the gap before darkness set in. It was vitally important that he maintain contact with the battle line at this point. When the sun dipped below the western horizon, the night would be pitch-black. Everyone’s nerves were on edge, and it would be only too easy to open fire on friendly ships. During the last hour and a half of daylight, while Scheer’s ships were repairing battle damage and making preparations for a possible night engagement – they did so unmolested. Though he had twice beaten Scheer in battle, Jellicoe showed no sense of urgency about tracking him down to finish the job. His battle fleet was positioned to cut Scheer off from his base, and he was reluctant to jeopardize his blocking position by going off on a potentially fruitless search. It was, in fact, the job of Beatty’s battlecruisers to hunt down the Hochseeflotte – but he had tamely assumed the traditional scouting task about six miles ahead of the battle fleet. Beatty occasionally -- through the smoke, mist, and gathering twilight – saw German capital ships steaming SW until 19:45, but his later biographer wrote… ”He wished to close the enemy van, but in poor visibility, felt it would be unwise to press the enemy too closely without battleship support.” With diplomatic language of that sort, his biographer could have filled a posting to the Foreign Office. The whole “raison d’etre” of the battlecruiser was to hunt down the enemy, report on him, and if necessary, engage him until the fleet could come up in support. The sound tactical reasons why Jellicoe did not go swanning about searching for the enemy in no way applied to Beatty – and Kapitan Hartog had just given a magnificent demonstration of how to take battlecruisers into close action with a battle fleet. Beatty’s sudden prudence contrasts sharply with the rash eagerness he had shown when first closing with Hipper – without the support of Evan-Thomas’ battleships. But then – Beatty had since put in four hard hours and lost three battlecruisers trying to sink just one of Hipper’s ships. Around 19:47, his newly acquired caution resulted in the now famous (or infamous) signal...”Submit van of battleships follow battlecruisers. We can then cut off whole of enemy’s battle fleet.” Notably, Beatty declined to act on his own initiative and waited the 23 minutes it took to send the signal to HMS Iron Duke and receive the answer – by which time the Imperial battle fleet had disappeared into the approaching gloom and all opportunity was lost. For some reason, neither Beatty nor Jellicoe ordered their light cruisers to search for Scheer until around 20:00. With his dispositions made, Scheer steamed south – completely unaware Jellicoe had already altered his course to the SW. Jellicoe’s intention was to force Scheer farther away from the swept minefield channels south of Horns Reef. With barely half an hour of dim light remaining, the two mighty fleets were on a converging course, yet again. And the first indication of this potentially explosive situation came just minutes before “last light”. About a half mile ahead of Jellicoe’s battleships, the British 4th Light Cruiser Squadron (Calliope, Constance, Caroline, Royalist, Comus) and 11th Destroyer Flotilla stumbled upon the German V Torpedo Boat Flotilla and unwittingly chased them west, across the wake of Hartog’s battlecruisers. In a few more minutes, the British scouting group ran up against Scheer’s battle line. About the time Commodore Le Mesurier realized what he had run into, his light cruisers were taken under fire by SMS Prinzregent Luitpold, Markgraf, and Kaiser. The German dreadnoughts obviously thought it was an enemy torpedo attack and they opened a rapid and accurate fire with both their main and secondary batteries. Startled by the tightly grouped enemy salvos, the British quickly turned away, but not before HMS Calliope launched a torpedo at the battleships. The torpedo missed, but Calliope was hit by five 5.9-inch shells and suffered 33 casualties before she could get clear. Some four miles ahead, just after 20:00, the advance screen of both fleets stumbled into each other and fought a rather spirited engagement. Kommodore von Reuter’s 4th Scouting Group (Stettin, Munchen, Frauenlob, Stuttgart, Hamburg) was steering south ahead of the German battle fleet, when Rear-Admiral Napier’s 3rd Light Cruiser Squadron (Falmouth, Yarmouth, Birkenhead, Gloucester) steamed out of the murky dusk. Von Reuter turned to attack, and both sides opened simultaneously, exchanging rapid fire for three or four minutes. Barely able to see their enemy, von Reuter’s squadron sustained several hits – two on Munchen – one of which destroyed the casings on the aft four boilers, making it difficult to maintain steam pressure. Von Reuter turned away sharply to the west – coming back to a southerly course after a mile or two. Napier, not wishing to press his luck in the near-darkness, turned his cruisers due south. Oddly enough, Konteradmiral Boedicker’s 2nd Scouting Group (light cruisers Frankfurt, Pillau, Elbing) was trailing von Reuter about a quarter mile astern when the skirmish erupted. Instead of moving to support von Reuter, Boedicker turned away sharply to the west – later claiming he did not wish to mask the fire of II Battle Squadron approaching a mile astern. (A somewhat flimsy excuse for not supporting von Reuter, but Boedicker was not relieved of his command.) The muzzle flashes and sounds of gunfire attracted the attention of everyone on HMS Lion’s bridge. Beatty swung his battlecruisers west to investigate and within a few minutes (20:18), Hartog’s battlecruisers were sighted on the starboard beam at roughly 8,500 yards. (Visual range was falling as the evening grew darker.) Vizeadmiral Hipper, in the torpedo boat G-39, was just pulling alongside SMS Moltke, preparing to transfer to the battlecruiser, when Beatty opened fire. Oberleutnant von Loefen shouted for full speed, and as G-39 shot forward, he sheered away from the battlecruiser and disappeared into the gathering darkness. Beatty’s first few shells landed among Boedicker’s scouting group, but fire was quickly concentrated on the German battlecruisers. The Panzerkreuzer instantly replied with what cannon they still had available. SMS Derfflinger had been taken under fire by HMS Lion and Princess Royal. HMS Tiger was shooting at SMS Pillau as Boedicker withdrew to the west, and SMS Seydlitz was under fire from HMS New Zealand and Indomitable. The falling darkness seriously interfered with the German gunnery, making it difficult to range on a target, but they opened fire just seconds behind the British and fought back all the same. Both Lion and Princess Royal were struck once apiece, but the German ships suffered far worse. Derfflinger was hit twice by 13.5-inch shells at short range, one of which jammed “A” turret, leaving the big cruiser with no serviceable main battery guns. But the already heavily damaged Seydlitz was struck five more times in the space of just a few minutes. At 21:27, with most of his battlecruisers unable to return fire, Hartog swung sharply to starboard and the column steered west and away from Beatty. As British salvos continued to fall about the battlecruisers, Hartog cut through the gap between II Battle Squadron (to the south) and I Battle Squadron (to the north). Vizeadmiral Schmidt (I Battle Squadron) held his course and speed as Hartog crossed his bow headed west. SMS Westfalen and Nassau, leading Schmidt’s column, were showered with splinters from near misses, and Westfalen was even forced to reduce speed and haul out to starboard to avoid colliding with Von der Tann as she passed ahead. The first of Schmidt’s ships to open fire was SMS Posen, followed by Westfalen, Nassau, and Rheinland. But after a few salvos, they lost their targets in the billowing smoke and darkness, and ceased firing. Konteradmiral Mauve’s old pre-dreadnoughts of II Battle Squadron open fire on Beatty’s battlecruisers while covering the withdrawal of the heavily damaged Imperial battlecruisers. SMS Hannover leads the squadron and is shown here straddled by 13.5-inch shell splashes. Too small and obsolete to stand in the line of battle, they earned their battle honors in the early hours of darkness when their sudden appearance dissuaded Beatty from chasing Hartog’s crippled Panzerkreuzer. (Superb painting by Claus Bergen.) At almost the same moment, Konteradmiral Mauve (II Battle Squadron) became aware of the commotion astern of his squadron and swung the old pre-dreadnoughts SW to open their firing arcs. In the gathering gloom and mist, Schleswig-Holstein and Pommern could see nothing, though the later eventually opened fire on a target. But Deutschland, Hannover, Schlesien, and Hessen spotted HMS Lion and Princess Royal. Visibility was poor and deteriorating quickly, but they opened fire on the “fuzzy” targets, nonetheless. Once again, Lion, Princess Royal, and now Indomitable, were struck by 11-inch shells. Beatty’s battlecruisers switched fire to the new targets and opened on the elderly “five minute ships”. Gamely returning fire, Mauve’s pre-dreadnoughts “diced with the Devil” as British shells began to fall around them. SMS Hannover, leading II Battle Squadron, was straddled aft on the third salvo. The next salvo straddled the bow. The concussion of the 13.5-inch shells shook Hannover as splinters tore into her hull above and below the waterline, causing minor flooding. The range could not have been more than 8,000 yards and the British were getting the better of the bargain. Pommern was repeatedly straddled and began dodging salvos while remaining in the line. On the sixth salvo, the old battleship was struck with a 12-inch shell fired by HMS Indomitable. The shell hit the citadel armor a glancing blow, and slammed into the belt armor below, detonating on impact. The armor plate was fractured and forced back some seven inches, causing heavy structural damage and minor flooding. The pre-dreadnought battleship SMS Pommern, II Battle Squadron, Hochseeflotte: Commissioned 1907 – 13,200 tons – 18 knots – 4x11-inch guns – 14x6.7-inch guns – 20x3.5-inch guns – 6x17.7-inch torpedo tubes – belt armor 9 inches. Technically obsolete the day she was launched, Pommern “earned her keep” at Jutland when she helped cover the withdrawal of the Imperial battlecruisers. Here you see her opening fire on HMS Lion around 20:20. Over the course of just a few minutes, it was all darkness, smoke, and muzzle flashes as shells fell all about. HMS New Zealand hit Schleswig-Holstein with a 12-inch shell on the casemate armor. The shell did not actually penetrate the plate, but detonated and blew a large piece inboard, wrecking a 5.9-inch gun and injuring several men. SMS Schlesien was hit as well, though the damage was mostly splinters from a near miss. Having engaged the British in battle, and covered the withdrawal of Hartog’s wounded battlecruisers, Admiral Mauve decided not to tempt the “Gods of Battle” – and ordered an eight-point turn to starboard – disappearing into the dark of night around 20:35. Beatty, for his part, thought he had finally “bagged” the German battle cruisers, and was somewhat rudely surprised when -- out of the darkness -- battleships had fired on him from both his starboard beam and his starboard quarter. He was also keenly aware he was alone and unsupported. Beatty chose not to press his luck and steamed on to the SW – oblivious of the fact he had just steamed across the path of the approaching Hochseeflotte. By 21:00, Beatty had altered course to SSE – still unaware that only ten miles astern, the Hochseeflotte followed in his wake. And Konteradmiral Mauve could not have known his old pre-dreadnoughts had just fought the last capital ship action of The Great War. Off to the west, hidden by the shroud of darkness, Vizeadmiral Hipper finally managed to board SMS Moltke and once again hoist his flag. Kapitan von Karpf greeted Hipper when he came over the side, expressing his pleasure at having the Admiral aboard. Hipper merely raised an eyebrow and chuckled…”I assure you Kapitan, you are not half as pleased to have me aboard as I am to finally be aboard. I have spent a wild night in a torpedo boat that I shall not soon forget!” The “old buccaneer” had endured an unnerving night, but managed to keep his sense of humor. Once again, for a bit of clarity, I have included a map track of the battle that might help tie some of the events together. FLEET ACTION (1) 18:00 Scouting forces rejoin their respective fleets. (2) 18:15 British fleet deploys into battle line (3) 18:30 German fleet under fire turns away (4) 19:00 German fleet turns back (5) 19:15 German fleet turns away for second time (6) 20:00 (7) 21:00 Nightfall: Jellicoe assumes night cruising formation NEXT TIME…… THINGS THAT GO “BOOM” IN THE NIGHT My apologies for not including any in-game images with this chapter. We have not yet figured out how to show a model firing it’s guns – and virtually none of the warships have night-lighting on them – so it was impossible to work them into the text of the story line. Consequently, I felt compelled to include a selection of random pictures from the Cuxhaven map tile. I have numbered the pictures – so if you have any questions – just drop me a note and I will be happy to explain. I hope you enjoy them…… RANDOM 01 RANDOM 02 RANDOM 03 RANDOM 04 RANDOM 05 RANDOM 06 RANDOM 07 RANDOM 08 RANDOM 09 MANY THANKS to @Barroco Hispano for his beautiful warship models. SPECIAL THANKS to my friend and partner, @AP, for his talents, meticulous models, colorful imagination, 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 https://community.simtropolis.com/forums/topic/761469-simtropolis-shipyard/?tab=comments#comment-1766496

HMS Collingwood – St. Vincent Class battleship -- 5th Battleship Division, 1st Battle Squadron Grand Fleet. Astern of her is HMS Vanguard. They are firing on the Hochseeflotte during the “second encounter” at the Battle of Jutland. Neither ship would suffer any damage that day. IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: CUXHAVEN By: Dreadnought & AP Chapter 35: THE SECOND ENCOUNTER HMS Iron Duke ceased fire at 18:36, and within mere minutes, the entire battle fleet went silent. The German battleships had been steaming in and out of the smoke and haze since first detected, so it was a matter of several minutes before it became apparent they had broken off the action. But Admiral Jellicoe was not disturbed in the least, and merely considered his options. Direct pursuit, however, was not among them. Around the same time, toward the rear of the British line, everyone on HMS Neptune’s bridge was watching a destroyer “dust-up” about 2,000 yards off the starboard bow, and failed to spot a torpedo bearing down. Fortunately, a sharp-eyed young gunnery lieutenant lunged at the helmsman’s voice-tube and ordered the rudder...”Hard-a-port!” Captain Bernard instantly ordered “emergency full ahead” and the bridge party braced themselves, as the deck plates began to vibrate beneath their feet. Up in the foretop, the gunnery officer leaned out and peered astern. He had survived the torpedoing of the old pre-dreadnought HMS Formidable – when she went down in the Dardanelles in 1915. Repeating that experience did not bear thought. The ship’s engines strained, vibrating madly as she heeled over under full helm in the emergency turn. When Neptune steadied on her new course, the torpedo could be seen dead astern and closing quickly. It would take three minutes to swing the dreadnought out of harm’s way – but they did not have three minutes. As the battleship’s superstructure blocked the view astern, Captain Bernard and the bridge party waited in grim silence – each one holding tightly to a railing or piece of equipment. But there was no jolting blast. It’s quite possible the torpedo had run it’s full distance and simply sank to the bottom – or equally possible the torpedo encountered the madly thrashing propeller wash and was deflected off course. Oddly enough, just two ships astern of Neptune, HMS Marlborough received her torpedo hit from Wiesbaden at about the same time. The origins of HMS Neptune’s “near miss” torpedo was never ascertained, but it could have been a stray – launched at another target in the melee to starboard – or it might even have come from SMS Wiesbaden, herself. HMS Neptune: commissioned 1911 – 19,680 tons – 21 knots – 10x12-inch guns – 16x4-inch guns – 3x18-inch torpedo tubes – belt armor 10 inches. Only three classes removed from the original HMS Dreadnought, the Neptune Class is the first design to get away from wing turrets mounted abreast the bridge structure. The designers installed wing turrets in the “echelon” pattern amidships as used in the Invincible Class battlecruisers – allowing cross-deck fire, but with limited firing arcs and accepting the blast damage that would result. They did have innovative superimposed stern turrets, but blast damage to the bottom turret still prevented them from firing dead astern. Close to 18:40 the Grand Fleet altered course, by divisions, to the SE. (Basically, the ships reformed into a six-column sailing formation, but “en echelon” – each division was 500 yards behind and 1,000 yards west of the one ahead – like the teeth of a comb, slanted SE to NW. The 5th Battle Squadron followed directly in the wake of the last battleship – HMS Agincourt.) Jellicoe’s failure to swing the fleet west to pursue the enemy would start yet another round of controversy and finger-pointing – but the C.-in.-C. had no intention of tearing off after the Germans. Jellicoe and the Lords Of Admiralty had, at length, discussed the tactical use of mines against the battle fleet. The Russo-Japanese War of 1904-1905 had shown the naval mine to be a deadly weapon. They were still a bit primitive, but the Russians managed to sink two of the six Japanese battleships with them. The Japanese, for their part, had proven especially adept and innovative in their deployment. They even lured the Russians out of their anchorage, and as they pursued, the Japanese torpedo boats fled -- dropping mines over the stern. The Russians lost one light cruiser before breaking off the chase. The trick only worked once, but British Naval Observers seem to have been singularly impressed. Consequently, Royal Navy officers somehow got the outlandish idea ALL German capital ships were equipped with mines to drop in their wake when pursued by an enemy. The idea is completely ridiculous, but it is worth remembering HMS Audacious, a King George V Class battleship, was lost when she struck a mine off Tory Island, Scotland, in October 1914. The minefield had been sown by SMS Berlin, a specifically designed “fast minelayer”. Audacious gradually flooded to death. This was a tragic and costly lesson to the British that their underwater protection was inferior, and their “watertight compartments” – weren’t all that watertight. The other great fear was the torpedo. Early on, in September 1914, the British experienced the shocking loss of the old armored cruisers HMS Aboukir, Cressy, and Hogue to U-Boat torpedoes. The loss of three ships, 62 officers, and 1,397 men in less than an hour and a half made an indelible impression on the Royal Navy psyche. And close on that encounter, in late November 1914, a U-Boat was rammed and sunk by patrol craft in the middle of Scapa Flow, itself! By 1916, the torpedo was an omnipresent and universally feared threat to the British. Any time German torpedo boats launched an attack, the British battle line immediately resorted to standard evasive maneuvers, and turned hard away from their attackers to avoid the torpedoes. Both Beatty and Hipper had resorted to these defensive tactics during their hard-fought duel, and even Jellicoe’s battle line had been mildly disrupted when individual dreadnoughts evaded torpedoes. Immediately after the German battle fleet disappeared into the smoke and mist, there were two widely separated submarine sightings – both erroneous -- but Jellicoe was a cautious man. He had to be. The C.-in-C., Grand Fleet had just fought a twenty minute battle. The Germans had promptly broken off the engagement – and withdrawn, in good order -- in the blink of an eye. What was he to make of that? Why would your enemy withdraw a reasonably intact battle fleet – still in good order – before it even began to approach the point of decision? The simple truth is Jellicoe feared a trap. If he swung the battle fleet and charged off into the smoke behind Scheer – he was certain massed flotillas of German torpedo boats would be waiting in ambush. The German torpedo boats were well known to carry a greater torpedo armament than British destroyers, and even their capital ships were more heavily armed with torpedo tubes than their English counterparts. No – Jellicoe would not offer Scheer the opportunity to maul his battle fleet when victory was already within his grasp. At 18:45, Jellicoe ordered a further course change to due south. He knew Scheer had disappeared to the west, and he fully intended to keep him there. As the Grand Fleet steamed south, they would gradually close on Scheer while simultaneously blocking his line of retreat. If Jellicoe could not re-engage before nightfall, then Scheer would find him arrayed for battle off Horn’s Reef in the morning. The fifth sailing column of the Grand Fleet steaming south as twilight slowly fades into night. The Fifth Battleship Division: HMS Collingwood, Neptune, and St. Vincent – as see from HMS Colossus. The final stage of the daylight battle is, perhaps, the most interesting – and certainly the most controversial. Historically, there is the “official” Admiralty report, the “official” Kaiserliche Marine report, and Admiral Scheer’s memoirs (English edition 1920). In all truth, each is flawed in its’ own way. The Admiralty report, while “mostly” truthful, has been altered in some cases to cover tactical mistakes, errors in judgment, and to either save or blacken the personal reputations of the participants. It more often resembles a “public relations” statement than a factual document. The Kaiserliche Marine report, while more accurate and factual (times, battle damage, disposition of ships), the document has too much “spin” on it. The facts, more or less, agree with the Admiralty report, but they are interpreted in an entirely different manner. And “memoirs” are never written to admit error or accept blame. For the most part, I favor the German sources -- they are more logic-based. But for this phase of the battle, I must agree with the British sources. The German sources are factual enough, but Scheer’s interpretation of those facts simply does not hold water – it is illogical. But I will present the ensuing drama as best I can. By 18:50 the Grand Fleet was steaming south at 18 knots, by divisions “en echelon” (six columns of four battleships, with the most easterly division – HMS King George V – about 8 miles further south and east than the most westerly division – still led by HMS Marlborough). Evan-Thomas’ 5th Battle Squadron was still following astern of HMS Agincourt. The Battlecruiser Fleet was approximately 7,000 yards SE of King George V, holding the same course and scouting ahead of the advancing battle fleet. Beatty had ordered what remained of 3rd Battlecruiser Squadron (HMS Indomitable and Inflexible) to fall in astern of HMS New Zealand. Having lost contact with Hartog’s battlecruisers, Beatty reduced speed to remain in visual contact with the battle fleet. The 3rd Light Cruiser Squadron was scouting about two miles ahead of the battlecruisers. Commodore Goodenough’s 2nd Light Cruiser Squadron was dutifully screening the Grand Fleet’s rear. The 2nd Cruiser Squadron and 4th Light Cruiser squadron were reforming on the disengaged side of the battle fleet. With the action in a momentary lull, scattered cruisers were reforming, stragglers were rejoining their squadrons, and formations were reassembling. But there was a single over-riding thought on Iron Duke’s bridge...”Where is the High Sea Fleet?” The Hochseeflotte steaming SW after breaking off the “first encounter”. The modern dreadnoughts of III Battle Squadron are trailing the battle line. From left to right: SMS Konig, Grosser Kurfurst, Markgraf, Kronprinz, Kaiser, Prinzregent Luitpold, and Kaiserin – just barely visible. Their main battery guns are trained to port, since that was the last point of contact. (Art by Claus Bergen.) The answer to that question lay some thirteen miles west by southwest. There, hidden from view by the massive banks of rolling smoke and mist, the Hochseeflotte was steaming away from the British. At the very head of the column, and slightly to the south of the main battle line was Admiral Mauve’s II Battle Squadron of six pre-dreadnoughts steaming west in two columns. They were accompanied by the VII Torpedo Boat Flotilla. A little to the north and east was the V Torpedo Boat Flotilla, screening SMS Westfalen’s port side as she led the main battle line. Strung out astern of her were fifteen more dreadnought battleships, with SMS Konig maintaining her station at the rear. During the sudden lull in the fighting, Konig’s damage control parties were able to adjust the main pumps to lower the water levels in flooded compartments, while extinguishing her fires. The light cruiser SMS Rostock and the III Torpedo Boat Flotilla screened her rear and port side. When Scheer had signaled for the “battle turn-away”, Kapitan Hartog (still in temporary command of 1st Scouting Group) promptly disengaged from Beatty. He put his helm hard-a-starboard, swung his four battlecruisers to the south, and swiftly disappeared into the smoke and haze. Hartog steamed south, then SW in search of the main body, passing within three miles of Lutzow, slowly limping to the SW. (It was here the Battlecruiser Fleet temporarily sighted Lutzow and opened fire on her for the last time. Lutzow gamely replied with her main battery – firing her last salvo of the day at 19:45, before disappearing into the smoke to the SW.) By 18:51, the battlecruisers were within three miles of SMS Konig and closing the distance. Admiral Boedicker’s light cruisers of 2nd Scouting Group had circled wide to the east of the battlecruiser action and were now some six miles SE of Hartog and showing no inclination to rejoin the battlecruisers. These are the basic locations of the protagonists in relation to each other around 18:50 – and that’s where the agreed-upon facts end. Vizeadmiral Scheer’s memoirs claim the “second encounter” was an attack...”to deal the enemy a second blow by again advancing -- regardless of consequences”. Other apologists claim he launched a second attack to rescue the crew from the derelict light cruiser Wiesbaden. But both claims sound more like excuses made-up after the fact. If Scheer had wanted to rescue Wiesbaden’s crew so badly, it might have been better accomplished by three torpedo boats while launching the massed German flotillas and their light cruisers against the British line. Wiesbaden’s crew could have been rescued, the British battle fleet thrown into confusion (fear of torpedoes), and it would not have risked the loss of a single capital ship. And – if Scheer had wanted to attack...”regardless of consequences”...why did he eventually send his battered battlecruisers to lead the attack? All but four German dreadnoughts were equipped with 12-inch guns -- and all were more heavily armored than battlecruisers. Surely they would have done more damage to the British? And why willingly charge the center of the British battle line – thereby crossing his own “T” a second time? And, finally – why would a man so conscious of warship losses willingly risk losing three or four capital ships in a “death or glory” attack? Now you see why I do not accept the German explanations – too many good questions with no plausible answers. But the British estimate of this particular situation does have some merit… With, at best, an hour or two of twilight remaining, Scheer decided to break off the battle and try his luck at making a run for the Jade. If the Grand Fleet had maintained it’s last known course and speed, he might be able to slip across the rear of their battle line and, once east of the British, he could get lost in the murk and haze of the falling darkness. For the second time that day, Scheer signaled a “battle turn-away” to starboard and steered back to the east. This maneuver again put SMS Konig at the head of the battle line, and returned Mauve’s pre-dreadnoughts to the tail-end position, where they would be in less danger. He carefully positioned Hartog’s battlecruisers about three miles ahead and off his port bow, to deal with any light forces they might encounter in the rear of the enemy battle line. He also massed his torpedo boat flotillas about a mile off his starboard bow to deal with the tail end of the British battle line – should they approach too close. To his credit, Scheer did order III Torpedo Boat Flotilla to retrieve Wiesbaden’s remaining crew. By the time these preparations had been completed, and Scheer had altered course to the NE, the Hochseeflotte was only about seven miles SW of Jellicoe’s nearest column – HMS Marlborough’s 6th Battleship Division, closely followed by Evan-Thomas’ 5th Battle Squadron. Torpedo boat SMS V-73 in the act of firing her last torpedo at the British line. World War I torpedo boats were not like WW II destroyers – few reloads, if any, were carried aboard the tiny craft. You can see there is no cover for the torpedo crews – they frequently operated with the low-lying decks knee-deep in sea water while fully exposed to gun fire and shell splinters from near-misses. (Claus Bergen) At 18:55, the light cruiser SMS Rostock (ahead and to port of Hartog’s battlecruisers), leading the III Torpedo Boat Flotilla, broke from the smoke and mist steaming at full speed for the crippled Wiesbaden. Kommodore Michelson, on Rostock’s bridge, instantly spotted the first sign of trouble – the British battleships were not supposed to be dead ahead – and certainly not this close – but a bold move might succeed. Three torpedo boats peeled off to the north, directly for the crippled light cruiser, while the rest of the flotilla hurtled NE toward the British 5th and 6th Battleship Divisions (led by HMS Colossus and the wounded Marlborough). The bulk of the flotilla twisted and turned, dodging a veritable forest of shell splashes from the secondary batteries of the battleships. The little boats fanned-out into attack mode, plunging over the wave crests and darting to port or starboard as they maneuvered into position to launch their deadly torpedoes. As the three “rescue boats” neared Wiesbaden, the four battleships of the 6th Division, already firing nearly one hundred and fifty 6-inch shells per minute, opened with their main batteries as well. The huge shells of the 13.5-inch and 12-inch guns blasted mountains of water into the sky as they rained down. One large caliber shell (possibly a 15-inch from HMS Barham) exploded so close alongside V-71 that the little craft was seen to lift out of the water. The shock was so violent, two of her boiler fires went out, and shell splinters pierced her paper-thin hull in several places. SMS V-71 survived, but was badly shaken, and all three boats were forced to abort their rescue mission. A British destroy is hotly engaged with S-35 of the IX Torpedo Boat Flotilla at the moment she is struck by a salvo of large caliber shells. It is unknown exactly how many shells struck, nor is it known which battleship fired them. But S-35 has been broken in two amidships and her stern is rising out of the water as she rapidly fills and goes to the bottom. The rest of the flotilla closed on the British battleships, masses of churning funnel smoke spewing forth as they laid a smoke screen to give cover to Scheer’s advancing battleships. British destroyers charged between the lines of lumbering dreadnoughts and opened fire on the III Torpedo Boat Flotilla. A vicious dogfight ensued beneath the guns of the battleships as they continued to fire, trying not to hit their own destroyers. VI Flotilla Leader, Korvettenkapitan Max Schultz in SMS G-41, threw his boats at the British with cold determination. As the range closed to 8,000 yards, G-41 took a direct hit from a 6-inch shell on her forecastle, disabling the gun, while shell splinters wounded two officers and two ratings on the bridge. SMS G-86, to starboard, dodged a British destroyer and took a shell just abaft the bridge, starting a fire. Some 7,000 yards from the British line, G-86 was hit again, damaging the wireless room and further damaging the bridge. Moments later, a large caliber shell fell alongside, shaking the ship violently while shell splinters wounded men on deck and in the wheel house. Other splinters tore through the thin hull plating and started leaks in the forward fuel oil bunkers. With British destroyers closing in, and G-41’s speed reduced to 25 knots, Schultz feared his ships would be destroyed before they could attack. At 6,500 yards he swung his flotilla to port and ordered them to fire a single torpedo. With twelve torpedoes running, the small boats heeled hard over and retired into their own smokescreen. For a time, that same smokescreen covered the approach of the IX Flotilla, slightly to the north. But as Flotilla Leader Korvettenkapitan Goehle led his boats out of the smoke, the whole British line seemed to concentrate their fire on them. His boat, V-28 was hit in the forecastle almost immediately, but began twisting and turning to evade the rain of shells as he bore down on the battleships. Mountainous shell splashes and funnel smoke from the battleships partially obscured the targets, but when V-28 reached 7,400 yards, Goehle ordered the helm over, loosed his torpedoes, and ducked back into the smokescreen. SMS S-51 and S-36 got off one each, V-26 fired two, and the remainder of the flotilla fired three each before retiring. S-51 took a 6-inch shell in the boiler room and had to shift to manual control when her steering motor was damaged by shell splinters. Having driven in to 6,600 yards, V-29’s luck ran out. She fired her torpedoes, but before she could turn away, was hit amidships by a salvo of large caliber shells, broke in two, and went down almost instantly. With few torpedoes remaining, and British destroyers and light cruisers approaching from the NW (Commodore Goodenough’s 2nd Light Cruiser Squadron), Goehle rallied his boats and withdrew into the smoke. The rescue mission had been a failure, but the rear of the British battle line had been thoroughly disrupted. The British 2nd Light Cruiser Squadron (HMS Southampton, Birmingham, Nottingham, Dublin) moving in to break up the German torpedo boat attack. Goodenough would have to withdraw in the face of overwhelming force. Around 19:05, the British 2nd Light Cruiser Squadron came in sight to the NNW. Commodore Goodenough had noticed the swirling ships and furious gun fire and swung his cruisers out of their rear guard position to investigate. Goodenough could see the German III Torpedo Boat Flotilla withdrawing SW when, out of the smoke and mist, emerged the Panzerkreuzer and the head of Scheer’s battle line. SMS Derfflinger opened fire immediately, quickly followed by the battleships Markgraf, Konig, Grosser Kurfurst, Kaiser, and Prinzregent Luitpold. Goodenough returned fire, increased speed, and quickly put about -- withdrawing to the north as he signaled Scheer’s position, course, and speed to Jellicoe. Goodenough had been right – no matter how many mistakes he had made in the past – he could do no wrong this day. And if he was not Beatty’s favorite person, his diligent reporting earned a favorable “mention in dispatches” from the C.-in-C. The time was 19:08. Relieved to have finally located his enemy, Vice-Admiral Jellicoe altered course from south to SSW in an effort to re-establish full contact with the High Sea Fleet. As if on queue, HMS King George V (leading the line) and HMS Duke Of Edinburgh (off her port beam) reported a U-Boat ahead to port (the fourth false sighting of the day). Jellicoe immediately swung back to a southerly course to avoid the possible submarine. Unfortunately, the two maneuvers executed close together caused some disarray resulting in speed accelerations, reductions, and some of the battleship divisions ended up overlapping. At 19:09, lookouts aboard HMS Colossus and Collingwood, in the 5th Battleship Division, near the end of the battle line, simultaneously spotted the masts and upper works of a big ship coming toward them through the smoke and haze. Within seconds they identified her as a battlecruiser, then a second one, then a third, and a fourth – now steering east with screening torpedo boats. The sighting report was instantly passed to Admiral Jellicoe, who snatched his glasses and dashed out onto the starboard bridge wing. Searching about briefly, the lenses came to rest on the unmistakable silhouettes of the German battlecruisers – some 14,000 yards away -- with Scheer’s dreadnoughts astern, slowly emerging from the smokey haze. Jellicoe could not believe his luck. For the second time today, he was ideally placed across Scheer’s “T”. (As a matter of interest – there was a young Sub-Lieutenant doing his duty for “King & Country” as the “Captain” of “A” turret aboard HMS Collingwood. Sub-Lieutenant Albert, Frederick, Arthur, George, of the House of Windsor – the future King George VI – father of Her late Majesty, Queen Elizabeth II – and Grandfather to His Majesty, King Charles III.) SMS Derfflinger charging out of the smoke as she works up to full speed. Kapitan Hartog has chased off the British light cruisers and is about to open fire on the British battleships. While Jellicoe was enjoying an abundance of luck, Hartog and the Imperial battlecruisers were not doing so well. As the Panzerkreuzer emerged from the smoke and haze, it was only a matter of moments before they were taken under fire. At such close range, the British battleships opened with both main and secondary batteries and took several minutes before the heavy guns got the range. But the British secondary batteries literally peppered Derfflinger with 4-inch shells. The fusillade failed to penetrate the battlecruiser’s armor, but they did considerable damage to the upper works and shot away the anti-torpedo nets and booms, blasted ventilator shafts, and shattered searchlights. A large portion of steel torpedo netting was left trailing in the water over the port propeller. Kapitan Hartog had no choice but to sheer out of line to secure the nets – a fouled propeller at this moment would be the end of it. The Boatswain and the aft turret crews went out under heavy fire and secured as much of the net as was possible, then used axes to cut away anything dangling over the side. Within two minutes, Derfflinger was again underway. HMS Bellerophon opens fire. Notice how the British battleships seem to be “bunched-up” as they maneuver to get a clear field of fire. Commissioned in 1909, she was virtually a repeat of the original HMS Dreadnought, and through poor positioning of the wing turrets, she was only able to present an eight-gun broadside. Around 19:05, as the action to the rear heated up, Jellicoe executed a three point turn to starboard, coming onto a SW course to close with the enemy. By 19:11, 14 of the 27 British battleships were firing on either Hartog’s battlecruisers or Scheer’s dreadnoughts. Jellicoe’s battle line had lost some cohesion during his swing to the east, and several battleships were masked by other columns and could not fire. But he was determined to outflank the Germans and block their escape to the SE. Even Beatty’s battlecruisers, far to the east, opened fire on the Germans, though at extreme range it was somewhat less than effective. But the continuous thundering of the guns rose to an intensity never before experienced in naval combat. Meanwhile, the Hochseeflotte was occupied with their own problems – they were unable to reply effectively. The angle of Scheer’s approach made it difficult for his capital ships to bring their guns to bear. Additionally, the British were still arrayed to the east and were nearly impossible to see in the haze as the twilight descended into darkness. In effect, Scheer was going up against a far superior enemy force, and due to his tactical blunder, he was unable to apply what force he had. (The German battle line could not bring their guns to bear on the head of the British line because of the angle. They did have an excellent firing angle on the rear of the British line, but the view was heavily obscured by the funnel smoke and especially gunsmoke from the British line.) The odds were already heavily against Scheer, and by his choice of a bow-on approach, he could not bring his full broadside firepower to bear. Scheer had shifted the odds even more in Jellicoe’s favor. Which brings us to the controversial question: did Scheer deliberately choose to do this – or was it accidental? This is an artist’s depiction of Scheer’s advance toward the British battle line during the “second encounter”. It is a bit “stylized”, but fairly accurate. However, the artist failed to capture the extent or “feel” of the low-hanging smoke. He did, however, get the British battle line pretty much right. It’s impossible to see anything but their gun flashes all along the distant horizon. A century after the fact, we cannot know what was in Scheer’s mind on that hellishly chaotic evening. We simply have no indisputable facts to work with. Scheer’s memoirs, the “official” Kaiserliche Marine report, and the many post-war books written by German admirals and captains are all in agreement – or -- in support of one another. And their contention is that Scheer fully intended to strike a heavy blow at the enemy...”regardless of consequences”. And yet – disregarding the British “opinion” of what they “thought” the Germans were up to – we can take the factual material and arrive at a reasonable hypothesis concerning Scheer’s actions. After Admiral Hipper had pulled the mortally wounded Lutzow out of line, Kapitan Hartog continued to engage Beatty with his four remaining battlecruisers. As the battle drove SE at high speed, Kapitan von Karpf aboard SMS Moltke (his wireless antenna still intact), sent a position report to Admiral Scheer – giving the British position, course, and speed. Within a very few minutes, von Karpf took in Scheer’s message reversing course to the NE. Moltke passed the message up the line to Derfflinger, and Hartog hauled the battlecruisers around to the SW and then west, to rejoin the battle fleet. It has been suggested by many historians that Moltke’s message was the deciding factor in Scheer’s decision to turn back to the NE. It has also been suggested von Karpf’s estimate of the enemy’s speed was (quite naturally) based on the speed of Beatty’s pursuing battlecruisers. It is quite possible, in the heat of the moment, that Scheer simply accepted Moltke’s speed report at face value – without considering Beatty’s battlecruisers had a five or six-knot speed advantage over Jellicoe’s lumbering dreadnoughts. (Battle lines of the magnitude of Jellicoe’s NEVER traveled at full speed – simply too difficult to manage. I can find no specific speed reference for this phase of the battle, but the Grand Fleet joined battle at 18 knots – and probably maintained that speed throughout.) Scheer’s “flag-navigator” would have already noted the new enemy position on his chart, so a simple glance and a couple of flicks of the calipers would have told him the Grand Fleet was moving quickly to the south. If Scheer moved back to the NE, he might be able to break past the rear of the British battle line and escape to the east. This would explain why he reversed his course a second time and steamed NE, and why he positioned the battlecruisers and torpedo boat flotillas where he did. Scheer only expected to encounter light forces guarding the rear of the British line. As the reassembled Hochseeflotte steamed NE, the detached III Torpedo Boat Flotilla launched their “rescue” mission and triggered a furious response from the British. The lookouts aboard SMS Konig would have heard the gun fire and possibly seen the gun flashes through the smoke, and would have reported it to Scheer. Not wishing to become embroiled in the firefight, he turned away – which explains why he altered course to the east prior to being sighted by HMS Collingwood. This painting by Claus Bergen is a realistic depiction of the visibility during the “second encounter”. Almost nothing is visible to the NE as Scheer’s dreadnoughts advance against the British. The smoke and shell splashes interrupt the field of vision, while the fading sunlight and lingering haze to the east make it impossible to range on a target. Left to right: SMS Markgraf, Grosser Kurfurst, and Konig at the head of the line – almost lost in the smoke and haze. Within moments of SMS Derfflinger emerging from the smoke, the director controls of a dozen British battleships would have been training their gun turrets round and locking on the big battlecruiser. By the time Von der Tann broke into the clear, Derfflinger would have been surrounded by towering columns of water as an untold number of shells fell about her. I cannot imagine what went through Kapitan Hartog’s mind, but his duty was to lead the battle fleet. As the water from the shell splashes cascaded down upon his ship, he ordered his helmsman to “steady-up on course”, then picked up the hand set to the conning tower fire control...”Open fire!” Aboard SMS Friedrich der Grosse, eighth in line, the scene would have been much the same. As the big battleship emerged from the smoke, her gunnery control officer would select the best possible target in the distant haze. There had been no orders for fire distribution – because the Flottenchef had not given them. He did not expect to see the entire Grand Fleet across his bows -- again. Kapitan Fuchs was calmly giving orders – the routine orders to the helmsman, gunnery control, the engine room, and the damage control officer. Just like battle practice on the gunnery range. Meanwhile, the turrets began to train round and the ammunition hoists rattled to life as the powder and shell was hoisted to the guns. Scheer stood on the open bridge, his binoculars scanning the mass of enemy ships ahead. He watched, stunned, as the water spouts leapt into the air along his battle line -- then SMS Markgraf opened on the British, followed quickly by Konig, Grosser Kurfurst, Kronprinz, Kaiser, Prinzregent Luitpold, and Kaiser. Even Vizeadmiral Ehrhard Schmidt’s I Battle Squadron, astern of the flagship, did not wait for orders. SMS Ostfriesland yawed a few points to starboard to open her firing arcs and loosed a six-gun broadside. Then Scheer felt the enormous over-pressure shock and the bridge beneath his feet bucked as the turret ahead and behind him sent their shells arcing toward the enemy. Fuchs had opened fire with “A” and “B” turrets and Friedrich der Grosse roared her defiance. For a few fleeting moments, Vizeadmiral Scheer stood motionless at the bridge railing, quite literally stunned, and in disbelief as the heavy shells fell all about. Jellicoe was not supposed to be here. The British battle fleet was supposed to be steaming south at speed – they should have been fully five miles to the SE and nearly lost in the failing light. Scheer had expected to encounter nothing more than a few light cruisers and a handful of destroyers. The only possible explanation was either a faulty sighting report – or he had misjudged the enemy’s speed. (It is highly probable he over-estimated their speed. And it is just as likely he did not allow for the “spread” of the British battle line. The Hochseeflotte was deployed in a tight line-ahead formation about five miles long. Jellicoe’s battle fleet was steaming in six columns, en echelon from NW to SE -- but “tip to tail” – it covered just over 12 miles.) The combination of mistakes resulted in the German battle fleet repeating the previous encounter. Scheer’s “T” was crossed yet again, and while the British ships were barely visible to the German gunners, the Grand Fleet’s muzzle flashes rippled across his bows in a flaming red-orange arc. What’s more – this time the range was barely 10,000 yards -- and closing. SMS Konig under heavy fire. This is a black and white interpretation of another Claus Bergen painting. This view is looking along Konig’s port side, from the midships “C” turret toward the bow. Notice how the barrels of the massive rifles dominate the picture. Bergen’s eye for detail set him apart from all other maritime artists. The long spar-like object in the foreground is the “kingston post” of the port boat derrick. These cranes were dismounted prior to battle and secured in brackets along the deck. The detail of the searchlight platforms mounted on the fore funnel is amazing. Note the barrels of 6-inch guns along the side of the hull raised to their maximum elevation. (They’re mounted in armored casemates on the battery deck below.) While Scheer pondered his predicament, Kapitan Hartog had little time for reflection. SMS Derfflinger, leading the van of the Hochseeflotte, received a large portion of the enemy’s attention. Over the time frame of the “second encounter” (19:00 to 19:30), the big battlecruiser was hit by no less than fourteen heavy caliber shells at incredibly short range. But she maintained her speed and kept up a steady fire on whatever targets she could range on. Few of the British sailors had ever seen a ship pounded so badly at such short range – and yet, she seemed to take little notice. It is small wonder the British nicknamed Derfflinger “The Iron Dog”. As “point ship” of the German battle line, Derfflinger had been running on luck for some time. That luck began to run out as she steamed steadily toward a horizon crowded with the muzzle flashes of the Grand Fleet. About 19:11, a shell struck a glancing blow against the rear of “A” turret barbette, ricocheted, and blew a large hole in the battery deck. Simultaneously, a 12-inch shell struck the barrel of the #3 port 5.9-inch gun, detonating, but failing to pierce the gun shield. Almost immediately, another large caliber shell struck the armor belt below the #6 port 5.9-inch gun but failed to penetrate. Moments later, the port side main belt was hit by a 13.5-inch shell between “C” and “D” turrets, but it also failed to penetrate. Yet another large shell landed aft, this one went through a quarter deck skylight and wrecked seven compartments below. Around 19:14, a large shell smashed into Derfflinger’s superstructure, detonating in the infirmary and blasting a rather large hole in the compartment and the exterior bulkhead. The “Iron Dog” was battered – but she pressed on. There was worse yet to come. This picture was taken after the battle -- inside what used to be Derfflinger’s infirmary. I have tried to explain the massive damage that could be done by heavy caliber shells. But this picture will leave you with no doubt. This hit was most likely a 13.5-inch shell. Using the sailor as a measuring stick, the hole blasted in the exterior bulkhead is close to 10x18 feet – from a shell with a diameter of 13.5 inches. You can see where the explosion extended into the compartment above, and punched through the deck plates, wrecking the compartment below as well. Without going into too much detail, you see the piles of twisted and torn steel and the deck girders bent by the blast. A ship’s upper works could be shredded, but armor protected the “vitals”, and she stayed in the fight. Next astern of Derfflinger was SMS Seydlitz and Kapitan von Egidy. Between 19:00 and 19:30, Seydlitz – the “lucky ship” – was struck seven times by heavy shellfire. During the advance toward the British, a large shell, possibly 15-inch, struck along the port side waterline just aft of “A” turret. The big projectile impacted the lower edge of the main belt and exploded, but did not penetrate. The armor plate was pushed in sharply about nine inches, flooding two wing passage cells and a coal bunker. A 12-inch fired by HMS Hercules glanced off the waterline belt and exploded alongside, causing several seams to rupture and flooding two of the wing passage compartments. A shell fired by HMS New Zealand struck the port side citadel armor but did not penetrate. Simultaneously, another 12-inch shell from Hercules struck the upper searchlight platform, destroyed a searchlight, then went overboard before exploding. Around 19:15, a large caliber shell fell short abreast “A” turret, then struck the outer hull skin, penetrated, and detonated – destroying the dressing station, leaving a four-foot hole, and causing considerable splinter damage. This hit would later contribute to serious flooding. Moltke, astern of Seydlitz, continued to lead a charmed life and was not hit during this phase of the battle. She would, in fact, come out of the battle with the least damage of all the battlecruisers – only four hits by large caliber shells. Little Von der Tann, expertly handled by Kapitan zur See Zenker, continued to dodge salvos with the agility of a prima ballerina. Zenker demonstrated a steadfast devotion to duty, and to his comrades, throughout the long afternoon and evening. Having lost all his main battery guns during the “run to the north”, he chose to maintain his position in the battle line and draw fire away from others. After all – Zenker still had his 5.9-inch secondary batteries to return fire at short ranges. But his superb skill in ship-handling was largely responsible for the small losses among Von der Tann’s crew. Grosser Kurfurst steaming into battle about to come under fire. (Claus Bergen) Two miles to the rear, the Battle Squadrons of the Hochseeflotte were taking their share of punishment as they steamed toward the massed guns of the enemy. Scheer knew he needed to act quickly, but everything seemed to happen all at once. Hartog’s battlecruisers were surrounded by shell splashes and, no doubt taking damage – and now his own dreadnoughts were coming under an intense fire. At 19:16, SMS Konig was hit by a 13.5-inch shell from HMS Iron Duke – the round passed through the citadel armor just below the #7 starboard 5.9-inch gun and ripped into the Junior Officer’s wardroom before exploding – and that was just the beginning. During the “second encounter” several large caliber shells caused considerable damage to Konig -- amidships and in the forward part of the battleship. One shell smashed through the upper deck near “A” turret, ripped a large hole in the forecastle deck, and detonated on the deck below -- wrecking four compartments and shredding numerous others with splinters. A large shell (probably 15-inch) struck the forward armored bulkhead, detonated on impact, and pushed the starboard side of the bulkhead in by five feet – causing heavy structural damage. Two shells struck the belt armor, failed to penetrate, but sent masses of splinters through the casemate armor and into the main and lower decks, which temporarily took the oil-fired boiler room off-line. A damage control party and the engine room artificers worked furiously to avoid any loss of speed and succeeded in getting the boilers back online in twelve minutes. Two shells knocked out two 5.9-inch guns and started fires in their ammunition hoists, forcing both magazines to be flooded. Two additional heavy shells struck the conning tower and the faceplate of “A” turret, while a third shell hit the anchor chains on the forecastle deck, but ricocheted overboard before exploding – showering the entire area with splinters. Forward of the first funnel, Konig was a shambles. Various wing passages and protective coal bunkers were flooded, forcing Kapitan Bruninghaus to counter flood other portions of the ship to maintain a stable gun platform. In all, some 1,600 tons of water had been taken aboard, making it difficult for the battleship to maintain her place in the battle line. SMS Grosser Kurfurst took seven large caliber hits – four of them in just two minutes. The first shell struck the bottom edge of the armor belt just aft of “B” turret, failed to penetrate, but pushed the armor plate inboard starting serious leaks. The second hit ricocheted into almost the same location and increased the initial damage. Several compartments below the armored deck flooded, eventually amounting to about 800 tons of water. A third shell – 15-inch – punched through the forecastle deck, creating a gaping hole before exploding below decks and showering the “A” turret barbette with splinters. The fourth shell, another 15-inch, struck the citadel armor and detonated on impact – spalling a large chunk of armor into the ‘tween-decks spaces. This ruptured the backing and flooded an outboard coal bunker. The fifth shell was another 15-inch round, which struck between the #2 and #3 port casemates, punching a two-foot circular hole when it detonated on impact. The sixth hit, again a 15-inch, struck the port side main armor belt abaft the fore funnel near the waterline. The armor plate was pushed in some six inches and two wing passage compartments were flooded. The last round fell short and burst in the water causing some splinter damage to the hull. Grosser Kurfurst took on an initial 4 degree list to port, but this was corrected by counter flooding. SMS Kronprinz steaming into battle – ahead of her, SMS Markgraf fires a salvo from her stern turrets. To starboard of the battle line, a torpedo boat screens the disengaged side. You can just barely make out a target in the distance. Again, Claus Bergen has captured the miserable visibility and the fleeting appearance of a target. SMS Markgraf was hit around 19:13 by a 12-inch shell thought to have come from HMS Agincourt. It struck between “A” and “B” turrets, about 7 feet above the waterline, but exploded on impact. SMS Kronprinz escaped damage in this phase of the battle, but SMS Kaiser took a shell that penetrated the casemate armor aft of the #7 port 5.9-inch gun. The shell failed to detonate, but the filler burned and started a fire in the artillery workshop. Another large caliber shell fell short to starboard and exploded alongside, damaging the outer hull, and blasting away a large section of the torpedo nets and booms. Around 19:15 SMS Helgoland was hit by a 15-inch shell on the port side forward near the waterline. The round hit the 6-inch belt armor located there and broke up without detonating – but it did make a circular hole about two feet wide and the ship took on some 80 tons of water. SMS Helgoland, a “second generation” dreadnought of the Kaiserliche M`arine: commissioned 1911 – 22,808 tons – 20.8 knots – 12x12-inch guns – 14x5.9-inch guns – 14x3.5-inch guns – 6x19.7-inch torpedo tubes – belt armor 11.8 inches. She was the only dreadnought of the I Battle Squadron to be struck by a large caliber shell. Below is a shot of the superbly detailed model courtesy of @Barroco Hispano. Though designed with four “wing turrets” amidships, her 12-inch guns could deliver an eight-gun broadside. The fine detailing of the model demonstrates the “utilitarian” elements of her design. The ship’s only purpose was to stay afloat, underway, and deliver the guns to the battle. As far as the British were concerned, things were going quite well. Only HMS Colossus, repeatedly straddled by Seydlitz, had been hit – twice – but with no significant damage. Their battle fleet was well hidden in the low-hanging haze and falling darkness. The wind had shifted during the battle and now a light breeze was blowing their gun smoke back over their own ships – effectively creating a smoke screen. It did, marginally, interfere with their gunnery – but as the ship moved ahead – they cleared their own smoke quickly and could resume firing. The Germans, however, could see nothing. All that was visible were the muzzle flashes, and rangefinders won’t work on those. The German gunners were firing largely by guesswork. In the space of five or six minutes, the position of the Hochseeflotte had gone from really bad -- to dramatically worse. The British battleships continued to sort out their jumbled formation and more and more were able to open fire. With ranges varying from 10,000 to 16,000 yards, Jellicoe concentrated upwards of 200 heavy guns on the High Sea Fleet – while the Germans could hardly see a target at which to shoot. Scheer had stumbled into a veritable hurricane of gunfire – shells falling like plummeting hail – and all he could see was rolling smoke from his own guns, massive water columns everywhere, and the dull orange glow as shells repeatedly struck his dreadnoughts. Finally awakened to the mortal danger he had stumbled into, Scheer began trying to extricate the Hochseeflotte from the deathtrap. This picture by Bergen comes closest to putting you on the bridge of a dreadnought that day. It may give you an idea what it felt like to ride a battleship through a “tunnel” of towering water columns, fire, and smoke – hardly able to see anything but the ship ahead of you. SMS Markgraf is in the foreground, with Grosser Kurfurst ahead of her, and SMS Konig nearly lost in the smoke and flame at the head of the line. If you examine the painting, you can see Markgraf has fired a salvo from her forward turrets. The barrels are still wreathed in smoke as it trails away from the muzzles. Still more gun smoke streams out of the exhaust fan on the rear of the gun turret. The canvas spray screens on the bridge railings have been shredded from muzzle blast and shell splinters. Empty powder casings ejected from the rear hatch in the turret lie scattered on deck. You can even see the mesh torpedo nets rolled and secured along the edge of the battery deck below. Note the dangling guy wires and signal halyards that have been shot away. And you can see the amazing size of the giant water columns surrounded by hundreds of smaller splashes from shell splinters. NEXT TIME…… DEATH RIDE OF THE BATTLECRUISERS MANY THANKS to @Barroco Hispano for his beautiful warship models. SPECIAL THANKS to my friend and partner, @AP, for his talents, meticulous models, colorful imagination, 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 https://community.simtropolis.com/forums/topic/761469-simtropolis-shipyard/?tab=comments#comment-1766496

Dreadnought battleship SMS Markgraf, III Battle Squadron, Hochseeflotte. Ahead of her in the battle line can be seen Grosser Kurfurst, with Konig (flag) leading the van of the battle fleet. Off their port beam they are engaging the four super-dreadnoughts of the 5th Battle Squadron as they steer north to join Jellicoe’s battle line. (Claus Bergen) IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: CUXHAVEN By: Dreadnought & AP Chapter 34: INTO THE JAWS OF DEATH As the smoke settled over HMS Invincible’s last resting place, Vizeadmiral Reinhard Scheer -- some 16,000 yards to the SW -- remained completely oblivious to it. As he steered the Hochseeflotte ENE at 17 knots, the van of his line -- the III Battle Squadron -- was warmly engaged with the British 5th Battle Squadron -- about 13,000 yards off the port beam. The rolling banks of smoke from the big rifles and hundreds of funnels effectively blocked his line of sight to the north and east. His mind was sharply focused on closing-up with Hipper’s Panzerkreuzer and completing the destruction of Beatty’s battlecruisers. Scheer had not the slightest idea of what awaited him on the other side of the impenetrable mass of smoke. And while intent on catching Beatty, he was for the moment, distracted by Evan-Thomas’ fast battleships. Evan-Thomas’ four Queen Elizabeth Class battleships were overloading their boilers as they steamed north at 24 knots to take station at the tail of the Grand Fleet deployment. This position would place them at the rear of HMS Marlborough’s battleship division, and nearly abeam of Scheer’s battle line. Unfortunately for Evan-Thomas, the smoke chose this moment to lift clear of the water and provide the Hochseeflotte with the first truly clear target they had seen. SMS Konig, flagship of III Battle Squadron, leading the van of the German battle fleet. She is exchanging salvos with the super-dreadnoughts of Evan-Thomas’ 5th Battle Squadron. Notice the thick funnel smoke trailing away to leeward as the battleships maintain a 17 knot speed. You will also notice how the masses of smoke being churned out by nearly 260 warships has, quite literally, darkened the sky – further lowering visibility. (Claus Bergen) SMS Friedrich der Grosse loosed her first broadside at 18:20 – quickly followed by the seven battleships of Konteradmiral Paul Behncke’s III Battle Squadron. The big 12-inch guns crashed out and mountains of smoke billowed skyward as the shells arched away toward the enemy. With clockwork precision, salvo after salvo was fired every twenty seconds, and forests of water columns sprouted around HMS Barham, Valiant, Warspite, and Malaya. The range to target varied depending upon the positions of the opposing ships, but averaged 10,000-15,000 yards. Within seconds of opening fire with the main battery guns, the German 5.9-inch secondary batteries opened as well. Evan-Thomas had been “splitting” his fire as he steamed north – Barham and Valiant fired on Hipper’s battlecruisers (when they could be seen) – while Warspite and Malaya engaged Scheer’s battle fleet. Hits were scored on both sides, but the only serious damage occurred when Warspite’s steering gear was temporarily jammed and she suffered 13 large caliber hits. (See chapter 32 for details.) This reduced Warspite’s speed and Evan-Thomas eventually detached her with orders to make for the Rosyth dockyards. SMS Kaiser, III Battle Squadron, “tactical #5” in the battle line. She is seen firing on HMS Warspite, which is circling to starboard with her steering gear jammed. The super-dreadnought took ten minutes to make two complete circles before her steering gear was freed-up, and very nearly every dreadnought in the Hochseeflotte took a crack at her. As the action raged on, more German dreadnoughts came within range and opened fire on the British fast battleships. Eventually, twelve of the battleships in III and I Battle Squadrons were engaged. After some twenty minutes of furious firing, SMS Ostfriesland fired the last salvo as visibility deteriorated in the failing light of early evening. A few minutes after 5th Battle Squadron disappeared in the smoke and haze to port (around 18:43), Beatty’s battlecruisers were still hotly engaged with the four remaining Panzerkreuzer. Beatty, having the advantage of knowing (more or less) where Jellicoe would deploy the battle fleet, began to close the range and maneuver against the van of the German battlecruiser line. Beatty now had the upper hand -- six battlecruisers (two of them relatively fresh) against the four heavily damaged ships under Kapitan Hartog’s command. By applying pressure to the head of the German line, Beatty would force them to give way to the south – thereby preventing them from interfering with the head of Jellicoe’s battle line. As the British Battlecruiser Fleet steered east, then SE at high speed, the tail-end of his line finally cleared the front of the Grand Fleet battle line. Now their massed guns would not be masked by Beatty’s ships, and the Grand Fleet gunners would no longer have to stare into his thick clouds of funnel smoke. Scheer continued to steam NE, following the Panzerkreuzer, and hoping to catch Beatty’s battlecruisers. Only aware of the presence of Beatty’s force, Scheer was on the verge of attaining the tactical goal of this sortie – the ambush and destruction of a formidable contingent of the Grand Fleet. As the admiral peered through his glasses, he could see (periodically) Von der Tann bringing up the tail of the German battlecruisers, with the rest of them shrouded in smoke and only “visible” through their gun flashes. As he swung the glasses to the north, the funnel smoke from Beatty’s unseen ships began to dissipate, and dim, shadowy shapes started to emerge. Scheer was momentarily puzzled. Hipper had earlier reported contact with British heavy ships approaching from the east (that would have been Hood’s 3rd Battlecruiser Squadron) – and that was followed by a wireless from Seydlitz reporting a vague appearance of ships to the north. (By this time, the wireless antenna on most of the Panzerkreuzer had been shot away and reports were less frequent and often garbled.) Finally, around 18:30, advanced elements of the II Torpedo Boat Flotilla had reported battleships to the north -- on a SE course. Scheer used the muffler tucked into his collar to clean the binocular lenses and looked again. The haze and smoke seemed to fade away to the east -- and NW of Von der Tann, he could see HMS New Zealand trailing Beatty’s line, and beyond that – just 19,000 yards from his own battle line – were King George V Class battleships. Scheer swung his glasses to the west, and through intermittent banks of smoke and haze, more British dreadnoughts were visible. Scheer later reported… “It was now quite obvious we were confronted by a large portion of the English Fleet, and a few minutes later their presence on the horizon directly in front of us was made known by the firing of numerous heavy caliber guns. An entire arc stretching from due north around to due east was a sea of fire. Even in places where smoke and mist still hung between the battle lines, the muzzle flashes were clearly seen.” The Hochseeflotte had stumbled into the Grand Fleet while Hartog’s battlecruisers had been lured off to the east -- and Scheer was clearly at a disadvantage. The rear of the British battle line was steering NE, with a bend in the middle – an 8 point turn in succession to starboard -- where Jellicoe had altered course SE to close on his enemy. The battle line formed a sort of “elbow pocket”, and Scheer was steering straight for it – right into the center of an inverted “V” formation. His “T” had been crossed and his lead elements would soon be in a crossfire from both ends of the English line. Both sides having opened fire, the battle line of the Hochseeflotte is steering NE. Left to right are – SMS Kaiserin, Prinzregent Luitpold, Kaiser, Kronprinz, Markgraf, Grosser Kurfurst – and SMS Konig, just barely visible as two funnels and a gun flash, at the head of the line. A German torpedo boat steams parallel to the fleet, on the disengaged side of the battle line. Notice the confusing elements of the scene: huge, random, shell splashes raising giant water columns – thick funnel smoke drifting to leeward – clouds of gun smoke large enough to obscure an entire battleship – and most important of all, the indistinct British targets in the distant smoke and haze. (Claus Bergen) Few battleships on either side could see more than a portion of the enemy line, largely due to the ever-present mist and rolling banks of smoke generated by hundreds of guns and funnels. Even worse for Scheer, only a handful of his ships could clearly make out a target. In the failing light of early evening, Admiral Jellicoe had been able to get to the north and east of his enemy and the British ships were hidden in the darkening haze to the east – much as the Germans had been earlier in the afternoon. Jellicoe’s battleships were a dark and fuzzy image in the German rangefinders, while the sun dropping behind the western horizon now clearly silhouetted the German dreadnoughts. The Hochseeflotte, stunned and surprised by the sudden appearance of the enemy’s battle fleet, found itself, literally, steering into the jaws of death. Far from trapping Beatty, Scheer’s own fleet had been trapped by an overwhelming force and caught at a significant tactical disadvantage – largely due to Jellicoe’s excellent deployment of the Grand Fleet. What’s more – Jellicoe had neatly boxed Scheer in on three sides – and was quickly cutting him off from his escape route via Horn’s Reef. These cold, hard, facts came home swiftly to Scheer – and with uncomfortable force. The 2nd Battle Squadron of the Grand Fleet – King George V (flag) leading the line – had a clear view of the leading German dreadnoughts, as did most of the 4th Battle Squadron. The remainder of the British line, for the most part, had something of a view – though mostly fleeting and a matter of luck. The rear half of the Hochseeflotte battle line was still hidden by voluminous funnel smoke – guaranteeing III Battle Squadron would come in for the lion’s share of punishment. Vice-Admiral Jellicoe’s battleships were in the last stages of organizing their formation. Some had to reduce speed as they bunched-up, getting into line-ahead, and several even had their guns masked by their squadron mates. But various parts of the British battle line had a variety of targets to choose from – the disabled light cruiser Wiesbaden, still afloat – the Imperial battlecruisers to the SE – and, of course, the leading elements of the Hochseeflotte. The British dreadnoughts had an excellent view of SMS Konig, Grosser Kurfurst, Markgraf, Kronprinz, Prinzregent Luitpold, Kaiser, Kaiserin, and even the flagship, Friedrich der Grosse. HMS Benbow, 4th Battle Squadron – followed by Conqueror and Thunderer -- just seconds before opening fire on the Hochseeflotte. Notice the funnel smoke of the battleships is dangerously close to obscuring their own field of fire -- the smoke and haze has already obscured the following battleship divisions. HMS Marlborough reacted quickly, opening fire around 18:19 at 14,200 yards. Others followed within minutes, while some battleships delayed until they acquired a good “visual” on a target. Only four capital ships were unable to acquire a target and remained silent. Curiously enough, of the twenty battleships that opened fire, thirteen selected the unfortunate light cruiser Wiesbaden as a target. HMS Agincourt selected Kapitan Hartog’s battlecruisers, but later shifted to Wiesbaden. The remainder fired on various ships of the Hochseeflotte. Something nearing 200 British guns lit up the hazy, smoke-shrouded, horizon in a random and haphazard manner. Individual ships, or small groups of ships, briefly acquired a target -- fired one or two salvos in a minute -- then had to “check fire” when their target disappeared in the rolling smoke and haze. A lone British destroyer, intent on torpedoing the crippled Wiesbaden, approached as the large caliber shells screeched overhead, but the German battle line opened a fusillade from their 5.9-inch guns and drove it away. SMS Prinzregent Luitpold opened fire at 18:22, her guns trained on HMS King George V, leading the British battle line. The German battleship straddled her target with the second and third salvo, then had to “check fire” when funnel smoke obscured the field of fire. HMS Orion opened on SMS Markgraf at 18:32, firing four salvos of 13.5-inch APC shells (armor-piercing, capped) and managed a single hit with the last one. The shell exploded on impact against the port side casemate armor of the #6 5.9-inch gun. Though it failed to penetrate the casemate, the armor was holed, the crew killed, and the gun disabled. Shortly thereafter, a large caliber shell fell close alongside the stern and exploded. No damage was apparent, but around 18:44 a bent propeller shaft forced the engine room crew to shut down the port high pressure turbine. Markgraf’s speed momentarily dropped, but the engineers were able to gradually increase steam pressure to the starboard and center turbines, returning her to 18 knots and maintaining her place in line. Iron Duke (C.-in-C. Flag – ninth in line) opens fire on the van of the Hochseeflotte battle line. Note the failing light of late afternoon and the thick, smokey haze hanging over the British battle line. These two factors made it extremely difficult for the German dreadnoughts to return fire. (Claus Bergen) HMS Iron Duke opened the engagement targeting SMS Konig – as did several other ships. Within five minutes, Iron Duke fired nine salvos and continuously deluged the German dreadnought with straddling shell splashes. Numerous 6-inch shells slammed into the casemate armor on the port quarter, but the only effect was to destroy large segments of the torpedo nets and booms. Within that short space of time, Konig reeled under the repeated impact of large shells. Her decks were littered with debris and fittings blasted loose from the superstructure, she was on fire, and taking on water. A 13.5-inch shell (1,250 pounds) struck the top of Konig’s armored conning tower at an oblique angle and bored a groove across it before exploding 90 feet beyond the ship. The impact broke loose a roof mounting bracket which slightly wounded Konteradmiral Behncke. Another shell struck the face-plate of “A” turret, but glanced off without damage. The most dangerous hit was at 18:35 when a 13.5-inch struck just below the armor belt – below the waterline – aft of “C” turret. The protective coal bunker and torpedo bulkhead were penetrated, the port wing passages flooded, and several adjacent compartments wrecked. The flooding was brought under control, and three compartments on the starboard side were counter-flooded to maintain the ship’s stability as a gun platform. Though a bit sluggish in turns, Konig was able to maintain speed and remain in the line. Iron Duke’s gunnery may well have been the best in the Grand Fleet that day. She was credited with seven large caliber hits in just five minutes. (What else would you expect from the gun crews of the C.-in-C.’s flagship?) It should be noted, Iron Duke had the potential to fire as many as 100 shells in a five minute time frame, representing a 7% hit ratio – but no records confirm that supposition. On a lighter note, HMS Agincourt, just ahead of the 5th Battle Squadron, opened on Hartog’s battlecruisers with her 12-inch guns – all 14 of them – in one tremendous broadside. For a brief moment -- there was so much fire and smoke – observers were stunned, and thought the battleship had blown up. When the smoke cleared and Agincourt was still there, great relief took the form of humor…”...looked like bloody great bonfires on Guy Fawkes Night!...Bet there ain’t a lick ‘o paint still on ‘er!” Taken under fire during “The First Encounter” – left to right – SMS Markgraf, Grosser Kurfurst, and Konig, leading the van of the Hochseeflotte battle squadrons. The Imperial dreadnoughts are returning fire in the direction of the hazy gun flashes barely visible on the port beam. Notice the huge shell splashes and the funnel smoke trailing to the SE. (Claus Bergen) Official Dispatches, battle observations, and even notations in official ship’s logs can be grossly inaccurate. For example: if a four-gun salvo straddles the target ship, and the observer can only count three shell splashes – he will likely assume the fourth shell struck the target – a “hit”. But “battle” is not a normal condition for the human animal. Every sense, every movement, every thought – the entire body – is running in overdrive – fueled by human emotion, and fed with pure adrenaline. During the heat of battle the mind jumps to conclusions – sees things one way when they are, in fact, something altogether different. The brain regularly “fills in” gaps in sensory information the other senses have not supplied or confirmed. Don’t forget – both HMS Princess Royal and Agincourt were assumed to have blown up – with somewhat comic results. But there is one central theme running through the various “after action” reports of the ships on both sides – visibility. Whole paragraphs in every record relate the continual problems involved in sighting a target, holding it in the sights long enough, and firing on it. Never mind hanging onto a target long enough to sink it. HMS Marlborough was among the British battleships closest to the Imperial battle fleet…... “We opened fire at her at a range of about 16,000 yards – by the time deflection was corrected, and about four salvos were fired, she disappeared in the mist. Shortly afterwards, another battleship came in sight, but before fire could be opened on her, she was obscured by smoke.” This one factor – visibility – accounts for why, virtually the entire Grand Fleet, chose to direct their fire on what remained of SMS Wiesbaden. The hapless light cruiser lay dead in the water, battered and on fire, as the British battle fleet passed to the north at short range. Clearly visible to every battleship, Wiesbaden received an unknown number of heavy and medium shells (estimated to be in excess of 300 rounds – hits unknown), but unlike larger and more heavily armored British battlecruisers, the German light cruiser never blew up. Wiesbaden remained afloat until approximately 01:00 (precise time unknown) when, full of water, she turned over – much like SMS Blucher at Dogger Bank – and took all 570 of her crew to the bottom. But not before she exacted a certain measure of revenge on her tormentors. The light cruiser SMS Wiesbaden as she would have looked at the Battle of Jutland. She is steaming at high speed, with volumes of smoke pouring from her funnels. With her speed increasing, you can look aft and see the propellers have “dug-in”, and her stern has settled. Commissioned in 1915, Wiesbaden was fast and agile, and well armed with 8x5.9-inch guns and 4x19.7-inch torpedo tubes. She was a fine example of the “standard” light cruiser adopted by the Kaiserliche Marine. SMS Wiesbaden, since being crippled by HMS Invincible earlier in the afternoon, had become a “shell magnate”. The little light cruiser received fire from any British warship that spotted her or even came close (don’t forget “Arbuthnot’s Charge”). She had been battered beyond all belief, but defiantly fired back until all her guns had been disabled – no doubt in the hope of staying afloat long enough to be rescued. And though various Imperial ships had come to her rescue in one form or another, the battle around her had been too fierce to take her under tow, or to rescue the crew. Around 17:45, as HMS Marlborough passed to the north and took Wiesbaden under fire, the German crew fired two torpedoes in her general direction. Perhaps they hoped to force the British battleships to turn away and leave them alone – or -- they thought they were going to sink and wanted to take a battleship down with them. The first torpedo ended up “God knows where” – but the second one struck Marlborough near the starboard diesel generator room. The resulting hole was 28 feet wide by 14 feet tall and resulted in immediate and significant flooding. As water poured into the hull and began to trickle into the forward boiler room, the fires were shut down and stokers evacuated to prevent an explosion. Marlborough’s speed promptly dropped to 16 knots. By 18:30, pumps had contained the flooding in the boiler rooms, but the battleship had taken on an eight degree list, and it caused water to leak into the forward dynamo room, knocking-out power to the main battery turrets. A thorough inspection showed the powerful torpedo blast had damaged just over 30 watertight compartments to varying degrees. The torpedo bulkhead had held, but the most seriously damaged compartments had to be shored-up with timber balks. Had Wiesbaden’s first torpedo also found the target, Marlborough would certainly have gone to the bottom then and there. (British underwater protection was woefully inadequate and the problem only came to light during the war. Even if bulkheads managed to survive the initial blast, their watertight integrity was invariably compromised – resulting in serious “leaks” and flooding adjacent compartments, which were not built as “watertight” as they should have been. British capital ships were much more likely to sink once hit by a mine or torpedo.) Marlborough, seriously damaged, managed to struggle along, barely keeping up with the battle fleet throughout the evening and into the night. SMS Wiesbaden’s torpedo struck HMS Marlborough – approximately – where you see the small boat hanging from the davits. It impacted the starboard side below the armor belt and blasted a large hole in the lower hull near the forward boiler room. HMS Marlborough was an Iron Duke Class dreadnought battleship of 25,820 tons. Model courtesy of Barroco Hispano. By 01:00 on 1 June, the 6th Battleship Division (Marlborough leading) had fallen astern of the battle fleet some 14 miles. The battleship’s damage control officer had found it necessary to reduce speed to 12 knots to take the strain off the shored-up forward bulkheads, but they were still in danger of giving way, and it was believed they would collapse from the vibration of firing a single turret. At first light, Vice-Admiral Cecil Burney lowered his flag and transferred to the 15-inch-gunned HMS Revenge, while ordering Marlborough to make for Rosyth dockyards. Later in the morning, Admiral Jellicoe signaled Marlborough, concerned about her condition. When fully informed of their situation, he instructed Captain Ross to steer for the Humber anchorage (much closer) where temporary repairs might be made. The journey was, to say the least, a “close run thing” (to borrow a quote from the Duke of Wellington). To make a long story much shorter, Wiesbaden got a bit of her own back, but HMS Marlborough was repaired, renovated, and returned to duty with the 1st Battle Squadron on 5 August 1916. By then, she had gone into the history books as the only dreadnought battleship torpedoed at the Battle of Jutland. Shortly after Marlborough was detached and ordered to Rosyth, Admiral Jellicoe, concerned about her condition, diverted the battleship to the mouth of the Humber River and the dockyards at Hull (much closer). He further directed four destroyers from the “Harwich Force” to rendezvous with her and provide an escort. I apologize for the WW I era Clemson Class US Navy destroyers – but they were as close as I could get to a British WW I destroyer. Both excellent models are courtesy of @Barroco Hispano. While the British were frustrated at their inability to get a clean shot at the German battle fleet, Admiral Scheer was beginning to feel the confines of the trap he’d steamed into. He continued to trail the 1st Scouting Group as Beatty’s battlecruisers forced them onto an easterly course, and as he did so, he closed the range toward the center of the Grand Fleet battle line. Poor visibility was relieving some pressure on his leading battleships, but each gap in the smoke and haze brought down a terrific fusillade of large caliber shells. The continuous rumble of British guns, no doubt unnerving, was inevitably followed by a dozen mountainous geysers of water obscuring one or more of his battleships. From the open bridge, Scheer held his glasses steady and searched toward the head of the line. Between the smoke and water columns, he caught glimpses of SMS Konig, leading the battle squadrons. She was firing sporadically, when visibility allowed, but listing to port and on fire. SMS Markgraf appeared to be listing to port as well, and she, too, was fighting a small fire. The flagship, Friedrich der Grosse, was farther down the line and more often covered by funnel smoke, but she drew the occasional British salvo, nonetheless. Scheer had noted, with some concern, several salvos landing close by with considerable impact. The water columns shot up much thicker and higher than the others, and the last one landed so close alongside, the whole ship trembled as though it had been hit. The vague thought crossed his mind they might have been fired by HMS Royal Oak or Revenge – the two 15-inch-gunned battleships with the Grand Fleet. The flagship of the Hochseeflotte, SMS Friedrich der Grosse, moored at buoys off the coaling docks. Moored at dolphins along the breakwater, is the collier SS Erlangen, with a small boat coming alongside and a motor launch already tied up. Astern of Erlangen is a Jupiter Class collier. Mooring dolphins, mooring buoys, small boats and colliers are by @AP. Friedrich der Grosse courtesy of Barroco Hispano. Below is a detail shot of Friedrich der Grosse: Commissioned 1912 – 24,724 tons – 22.4 knots – 10x12-inch guns – 14x5.9-inch guns – 12x3.5-inch guns – 5x19.7 inch torpedo tubes – belt armor 13.8 inches. But for the moment, Scheer’s mind was preoccupied by a single, overwhelming thought: how to extricate his battle line from this tactical deathtrap. Whether he planned to continue the battle or not, was irrelevant. If he did not get his ships out of this concentration of enemy fire they would be destroyed. He quickly realized there was no alternative but to put about and withdraw from the “kill zone”. He ruled out executing a 16 point turn in succession. That would have exposed each ship in the battle line to a galling fire at the point of the turn – where Konig now suffered. It would also leave II Battle Squadron at the end of the line and expose the old pre-dreadnoughts to the massed guns of the Grand Fleet. Konteradmiral Mauve’s elderly battleships were, more or less, universally accepted as “cannon-fodder”. But Scheer, to his credit, would not throw them “...as red meat to the wolves…” while he made his escape. The Hochseeflotte had, for many years, practiced a tactical maneuver called the “Gefechtskehrtwendung” – or “battle turn-away”. In this maneuver, each ship turned 180 degrees – simultaneously – in this case, to starboard. The turn would instantly reverse both the order and the heading of the battle line. Instead of steaming NE, the Hochseeflotte would be headed SW. Whereas SMS Konig now led the battle line, she would then be bringing up the rear. Conversely, Mauve’s pre-dreadnoughts would then lead the battle line to the SW – thereby staying out of reach of the enemy’s guns. Admittedly, this solution was of little comfort to Konig -- but it was, by far, the better choice. Torpedo boat G-11 (Kapitanleutnant Adolf Muller) leads the eleven boats of the V Flotilla into the diversionary attack on the British battle line. G-11 is just beginning to make smoke, while you can see shell splashes already falling nearby. V-2’s deck (foreground) is already wet, and as she gathers speed and begins to twist and turn, the waves will literally wash across her deck. Life in a torpedo boat was rarely dry. Note the Maxim machine gun on a tripod mount and the torpedo tubes to the right. These were thoroughly vicious little boats in a close encounter. Scheer ordered his torpedo boats into the attack to cover his maneuver. As the little boats rang for full speed and lunged ahead, their crews readied the guns and checked the settings on their torpedoes. The slender boats sliced through the rolling waves with ease, twisting and turning to avoid the storm of shells that poured forth from the towering British battleships. The boats fanned out into attack formation, while the engineers in the boiler rooms opened the valves to spray fuel oil directly onto the fires. Thick, sooty clouds poured from their funnels and swiftly trailed away astern, hanging low over the water and cloaking Scheer’s battle fleet in an impenetrable smoke screen. The torpedo boat flotilla (some 11 boats and two stragglers from another flotilla) would swing broadside just inside maximum range and loose one torpedo each at the passing British. It was not a “death or glory” attack – merely a feint. Much like the cavalry of previous land wars, the torpedo boats would divert attention away from the main body of the Hochseeflotte. At 18:35, Scheer hoisted the signal for the “battle turn-away” and the lumbering dreadnoughts put their helms over in unison. The beginning of the turn was sighted, briefly, by lookouts on HMS Collingwood and the information was passed to the C.-in-C., but the British could not fathom what the Germans were up to. The “battle turn-away” was an extremely complicated and difficult maneuver to perform – even in peacetime – and required the highest standards of seamanship and ship-handling. Within four minutes, Scheer’s captains were putting their helms amidships and steadying-up on a SW course – no collisions, and hardly a “wobble” in the battle line. (SMS Konig did not receive the signal due to wireless problems, and started her turn late, along with the rest of the 5th battleship Division. Konig and her division did, however, increase speed and catch up to the battle fleet. Unfortunately, SMS Markgraf’s port turbine had been shut down and she struggled to maintain her place in line.) But Scheer’s gamble paid off handsomely. The Hochseeflotte disappeared into the smoke and haze and the British simply ceased fire. Scheer’s “first encounter” with the Grand Fleet had lasted all of seventeen minutes. The “battle-turn-away” has begun – as seen from the fantail of SMS Markgraf, She is preceded by Grosser Kurfurst and Konig – still firing, they are already well into their starboard helm. Note the empty powder casings littering Markgraf’s deck in rear of the aft turrets. Smoke has shrouded the sky as forests of huge shell splashes leap into the air. (Claus Bergen) Scheer’s “battle turn-away” and withdrawal from the “first encounter” started another of the many controversies still swirling around the Battle Of Jutland. It deserves mention, but I will try to keep it as short and simple as possible. Many historians, especially the British historians, contend that when Scheer broke off the engagement, it was because he had been neatly ambushed, trapped at a serious disadvantage, and soundly beaten – and his only thoughts thereafter were to elude the British until nightfall, then make a run for the swept minefield channels into the Jade Estuary. It is only natural the British would adopt this opinion of the battle. And when the later stages of the battle were played out, they seemed to support this theory. The theory also becomes necessary to British morale when the losses in men and ships were tallied over the two days after the battle. The British “take” on Jutland paints them as big, lion-hearted chaps, while the Germans come off as scared little rabbits. Understandably, the officers and men of the Hochseeflotte did not see it that way. The long-standing objective of the Kaiserliche Marine was to ambush a portion – a manageable portion – of the Grand Fleet and destroy it utterly. The strategy was to repeat that process until the Grand Fleet numbers had been reduced sufficiently to allow the Hochseeflotte to engage at something close to parity. NO ONE in the Kaiserliche Marine advocated taking on the Grand Fleet in a stand-up fight. The odds were simply too great for any chance of success. At full strength, the Grand Fleet could muster 30 battleships and 10 battlecruisers (two battleships and one battlecruiser missed Jutland). The Hochseeflotte could only field 17 battleships and 5 battlecruisers (one battleship missed Jutland, and pre-dreadnought battleships don’t count.) No amount of skill, courage, or audacity could overcome those odds – especially in the age of the 15-inch gun. Admiral Scheer was most certainly ambushed, and though they could hardly be said to be working together closely, Jellicoe and Beatty made a superb job of it. Due to the miserably poor visibility, Scheer remained oblivious to the presence of the Grand Fleet -- only realizing the extent of his danger when SMS Konig came under the concentrated fire of heavy caliber guns. At that moment, Scheer realized he had been trapped, and by the entire Grand Fleet. The “Jutland Sortie” only envisioned destroying Beatty’s battlecruisers – and Hipper had accepted the challenge of adding the 5th Battle Squadron to the “hit list”. Even so, Scheer was relatively certain that objective could be achieved. When the Grand Fleet so rudely appeared – all bets were off. If Reinhard Scheer was anything – he was a pragmatist. He knew the loss of even a single battleship or battlecruiser, would be irreparable, and would weaken him even further against the enemy. His tactical position was untenable. To remain and fight would, with certainty, incur heavy losses in men and ships – an unthinkable result on many levels. And to do so was, simply, NEVER part of the strategic plan. Vizeadmiral Scheer did what any commander would do when faced with a superior and overwhelming enemy holding a strong tactical position – he withdrew in an organized manner as quickly as possible. Even Napoleon resorted to maneuver when confronted by a more numerous enemy in an unassailable position. Simply put – Scheer’s ambush had failed, and he saw no advantage in continuing a battle he could not win. NEXT TIME…… THE SECOND ENCOUNTER MANY THANKS to @Barroco Hispano for his beautiful warship models. SPECIAL THANKS to my friend and partner, @AP, for his talents, meticulous models, colorful imagination, 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 https://community.simtropolis.com/forums/topic/761469-simtropolis-shipyard/?tab=comments#comment-1766496

Hipper’s battlecruisers pursuing Beatty during “The Run To The North”. From left to right: Von der Tann, Moltke, Seydlitz, Derfflinger – Lutzow is lost among the shell splashes and smoke at the head of the column. Note the hazy horizon where only enemy gun flashes may be observed. It is not at all surprising the battle became confusing when viewed from a single ship. The combination of haze, smoke, and shell splashes made it impossible to see much beyond seven miles (14,000 yards) in any direction – and more often than not, a great deal less than that – perhaps only 5,000 yards. Indeed, it was nearly impossible to see the ships in one’s own battle line. (Claus Bergen) IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: CUXHAVEN By: Dreadnought & AP Chapter 32: THE TRAP IS SPRUNG Beatty’s battlecruisers reappeared out of the smoke around 17:40, on a NNE course, converging with Hipper’s squadron. Within seconds, Lutzow and Derfflinger opened on the approaching British and the battlecruiser duel resumed with a vengeance. Beatty recognized he had narrowly avoided Scheer’s ambush and had barely escaped the German battle fleet. He knew if he wanted to lure the High Sea Fleet into Jellicoe’s trap, he would have to prevent Hipper from discovering the presence of the Grand Fleet. Beatty reasoned the battle fleet would likely approach from the northwest – so the only way to close the trap was to divert the German battlecruisers from their northerly course. Beatty currently held the advantage. His battlecruisers were still capable of maximum speed, and though battered, their firepower was still dangerous. Evan-Thomas had finally engaged with the full force of the powerful 5th Battle Squadron, and Beatty knew he would hang onto Hipper like a bulldog. Using his 4-knot speed advantage, Beatty closed the range on a converging course that would bring him across the bows of Hipper’s battle line – the classic crossing the “T” maneuver. Beatty would either cross his bows and destroy the leading German battlecruiser – or Hipper would give way to the east to avoid the danger. By way of making his point, Beatty turned his battlecruisers two points to starboard and closed to 12,000 yards. At this range the British shooting improved considerably. Within the next few minutes, Seydlitz was struck by six large caliber shells, some of them 15-inch, and most of them falling on the forward part of the ship. One large shell slammed through the forecastle deck and detonated on the upper deck below. The blast ripped a large hole above, in the forecastle deck, and devastated eight compartments below – touching off a raging fire. Splinter damage sliced through the fire-fighting mains and caused more flooding before they were switched off. Another shell punched through the forecastle deck and penetrated all the way to the battery deck before exploding. The blast damage destroyed five compartments while large splinters sliced through numerous thin compartment and passageway bulkheads. A third shell fell short off the port bow and struck the outer hull below the armor belt. When the shell detonated, it ripped a hole approximately 6 x 9 feet below the waterline and destroyed the watertight integrity of the surrounding compartments and the wing passage. This caused heavy flooding, which reduced the buoyancy of the bow section enough to allow more water to flow into other damaged areas. For the moment, the flooding could be controlled by the pumps, and Seydlitz was able to continue firing while maintaining her speed. But the splinter damage and the dozens of sprung compartment seams would allow the flooding to spread. The failure of the designers to properly armor the forward part of the battlecruiser had now become problematic. Unaware of the destruction aboard Seydlitz, Hipper, seeing no value in allowing his bows to be crossed, gradually gave way and came onto an easterly course. (Hipper probably hoped this turn would put the 5th Battle Squadron out of position – thereby relieving the pressure of those destructive 15-inch guns on his hard-pressed squadron.) The German battlecruisers were now diverted from their scouting mission. And with visibility being so poor, Scheer was virtually “blind” to an approaching enemy. As brilliant as Beatty’s maneuver had been, the brilliance lay in that Hipper had no viable options. Holding his course would likely have cost Hipper his flagship. Altering course to the west would have thrown his squadron onto the guns of the 5th Battle Squadron – at point blank range. Hipper’s battlecruisers following Beatty’s line around to the east while firing rapid and accurate salvos at their enemy. On the left is SMS Seydlitz, with Derfflinger ahead, and Lutzow lost in the smoke ahead of her. (Claus Bergen) The battlecruisers continued their deadly duel as they settled onto the easterly course, and within two minutes, a rumble of heavy guns came from the NE, where the dim horizon was lit by the flashes of a sharp engagement. Vizeadmiral Hipper instantly turned his glasses on the gun flashes. The sound of rolling, irregular gunfire drifted down to him, rhythmically punctuated by louder, sharper thunderclaps. His instinct told him there were big guns out there – not just light cruisers. And he was keenly aware it could be none of Beatty’s ships. He suspected it might be the remaining British battlecruiser squadron, which had so far been missing from the battle. If, in fact, they were the missing battlecruisers – then there was a good chance they were the advance reconnaissance screen of the Grand Fleet. Hipper suspiciously scanned the misty eastern horizon with his glasses and spoke over his shoulder to Kapitan Harder...”Mark my words, Harder...there’s something nasty brewing out there. It would be better not to get in too deep.” Some minutes later, just before 18:00, salvos of 12-inch shells began to raise tall water columns among Hipper’s ships, and they were coming in from the northeast. Grim, brutal, and destructive as the day had so far been – the main event was about to unfold. HMS Iron Duke leading the 4th Battle Squadron of the Grand Fleet – followed astern by HMS Royal Oak, Superb, Canada, Benbow, Bellerophon, Temeraire, and Vanguard. Vice-Admiral John Jellicoe paced the Admiral’s Bridge aboard the Grand Fleet flagship, HMS Iron Duke. The big battleship pitched gently as she rose and fell with the long rollers pushing down from the Atlantic. But Jellicoe paid her no mind. He paced slowly, his right hand clutching a pair of binocular glasses slung around his neck, his left hand tucked into the pocket of his old Burrberry (early trench coat), and his head bowed – deep in thought. Some flag-officers paced because they had nervous energy, others out of worry. Jellicoe commanded the mightiest fleet of dreadnoughts in all of history – and he did it with precision and confidence. Right now, all the irritation and worries were one level below, on the navigation bridge, with Flag-Captain Frederic Charles Dreyer. But Jellicoe knew Dreyer was perfectly capable of moving this fleet without him. He wasn’t pacing out of worry – it was simply an activity that cleared his mind when he had much on it. Jellicoe’s problem was he didn’t have much in the way of facts to work with. The Admiral had been on the navigation bridge, around 14:35, when the light cruiser HMS Galatea’s first sighting report had been intercepted and decoded. Commodore Alexander-Sinclair’s signal had been clear and concise...”Sighted large smoke – possibly a fleet – ENE”...then gave his longitude and latitude. Jellicoe immediately ordered a course change to the SE, to close Galatea’s position. It was hardly likely Commodore Alexander-Sinclair had sighted “a fleet” -- and the report had been sent to HMS Lion, so Beatty would already be steaming to investigate. Jellicoe was fifty miles to the northwest, and whatever they might find, if Beatty could not handle it, he would fall back on the battle fleet. So the Grand Fleet left the rendezvous point and steamed southeast – purely as a precautionary move. A little over an hour later, 15:50, a second sighting report was received, this one from HMS Lion...”Enemy sighted...battlecruisers...bearing ENE...engaging…” and he gave his latitude and longitude. It was obvious the signal had been written out hastily, and it left out crucial bits of information – the enemy’s course, speed, and strength. Unfortunately, Beatty’s “Flag-Navigator” had been out of sight of land for the best part of fifteen hours and had been unable to take bearings on any landmarks. Normally, that would not present a particular problem, but the “Flag-Navigator” must not have been making precise use of his chronometers. Simply put – the Admiral’s navigator did shoddy work. His given position in the sighting report was approximately eight miles east of his actual location. In the miserable visibility, anyone looking for Beatty at the given location, wouldn’t find him. Lion’s sighting report, though incomplete and inaccurate, was the first confirmed sighting of enemy capital ships at sea. And Beatty identified them as Hipper’s battlecruisers. Jellicoe knew it was not uncommon for the Germans to send their battlecruisers out, alone, on offensive operations – they were fast, hard-hitting, and Hipper handled them well. There was, of course, no sign of the Hochseeflotte, which the Admiralty’s wireless intercepts placed at anchor in the Jade as late as 11:00. Nevertheless, a few minutes after the sighting report came in, Jellicoe decided to support Beatty. At 16:05 he signaled Rear-Admiral Horace Hood to pull his 3rd Battlecruiser Squadron (accompanied by the light cruisers HMS Chester and Canterbury) out of the advance scouting line and proceed at his best possible speed to reinforce Beatty. Hood acknowledged the signal, ordered 24 knots, and instructed the other two battlecruisers to fall in astern of the flagship – course SSE. The stoker’s shovels scrapped on the deck plates, smoke gushed from the funnels, and the bridge officers could feel the trembling under foot as the big ships worked up to speed. One by one, HMS Invincible, Inflexible, and Indomitable disappeared into the mist to the southeast – only two of them would survive the battle. HMS Inflexible and Indomitable, astern of Invincible, as they work up to speed on their way to rejoin Beatty’s Battlecruiser Fleet. At 16:38, Commodore Goodenough’s sighting report from HMS Southampton was intercepted by the wireless room on HMS Iron Duke and three other dreadnoughts of the Grand Fleet, which dutifully repeated the signal to their C.-in-C. ”Urgent – Priority – Have sighted enemy battle fleet bearing SE – enemy course N – dreadnoughts in van -- my position Lat. 56-34 N – Lng. 6-20 E.” This information struck the various units of the Grand Fleet like a bolt of lightning. No one in the fleet had the slightest suspicion the Hochseeflotte was even at sea – now it was nipping at Beatty’s heels. Goodenough was an experienced commander, and he had seen it with his own eyes. Obviously, the Admiralty’s intelligence estimate of the German battle fleet had been seriously in error. Jellicoe watched as his navigator hastily plotted the estimated locations of various detachments on a chart. Since Beatty had not bothered to send his own sighting report, Jellicoe could only guess at his position and hope he was leading the Germans to him. The distance between the two fleets was closing, but he could not deploy into battle formation until he was close enough. Based on what the chart told him, Jellicoe sent a coded wireless to the Admiralty with his position and...”Fleet action is imminent.” He then made a flag signal to the battle fleet...”See to your men and ships – action imminent.” Minutes later, one man from every battle station was ordered to the galley to fetch hot cocoa, soup, and sandwiches for his mates. Hot cocoa was passed around from time to time on cold days or late night watches – but soup and sandwiches? Now every man knew he would see battle this day. The Grand Fleet steaming southeast in search of the enemy. Rear-Admiral Sir Robert Arbuthnot’s old armored cruisers of the 1st Cruiser Squadron (HMS Defence, Warrior, Black Prince, and Duke Of Edinburgh) formed the advance screen of the Grand Fleet. At 17:33, HMS Black Prince, on the far southwest flank, came within sight of HMS Falmouth of the 3rd Light cruiser Squadron – screening about 5 miles ahead of Beatty’s battlecruisers. Arbuthnot immediately sent a sighting report to the C.-in-C., which established the first visual link between the British battlecruisers and the Grand Fleet. But there was no further information on the whereabouts of the Hochseeflotte. At 17:38, the light cruiser HMS Chester, screening Hood's oncoming 3rd Battlecruiser Squadron, was intercepted by the light cruiser screen of Konteradmiral Boedicker’s 2nd Scouting Group -- ranging ahead of Hipper’s squadron. The opposing cruisers immediately opened fire. HMS Chester suddenly found herself under fire from SMS Frankfurt, Wiesbaden, Elbing, and Pillau – a regular hornet’s nest. Eighteen shells slammed into the British cruiser, wreaking havoc among the main deck gun crews and the bridge staff. One 5.9-inch shell bored into Chester’s machinery spaces and passed out the other side without exploding. The engine room mascot – “Smokey” -- a black kitten, sat calmly in his bed and watched the whole affair with great interest. Fortunately for Chester, her engines were unharmed and Captain Lawson put his helm hard over, sheering off to the east – where he might find salvation under the guns of Hood’s battlecruisers. The earlier error by Beatty’s navigator inadvertently led Admiral Hood to swing his battlecruisers farther to the east and south looking for Beatty. HMS Invincible’s lookouts spotted the gun flashes of a sharp engagement between light cruisers off to the west and Hood increased speed and came about to intervene. In a matter of minutes, HMS Chester was seen tearing out of the mist off Invincible’s port bow, surrounded by shell splashes. Hood signaled the light cruiser to take station on his starboard beam as he charged past, while ordering his gunnery officer to engage as soon as he had a target. Boedicker’s cruisers had surprised HMS Chester and mauled her severely, and now he was closing for what he thought was a certain “kill”. But it was Boedicker’s turn to be surprised. Suddenly, the massive shapes of HMS Invincible, followed by Inflexible and Indomitable, loomed up out of the mist, charging along with rollers crashing over the bows and guns blazing. Boedicker instantly ordered the helm hard over to evade – but it was too late. Around 17:54, at nearly point-blank range, the guns of Invincible and Inflexible thundered and SMS Wiesbaden, nearest to the British, was hit squarely by one of the salvos… “A tremendous blow was felt...shaking the whole ship...and the lights went out. Seconds later, the accumulators restored the lights and it was discovered a large caliber shell on a flat trajectory had penetrated the engine room, struck the starboard turbine, and carried on to strike the port turbine, where it detonated.” Chief Stoker Hans Zenne – Wiesbaden’s sole survivor. In the blink of an eye, Wiesbaden had been rendered “dead in the water”. Pillau, too, was hit and four of her boilers disabled, but she managed enough steam to escape back into the mist with Frankfurt and Elbing. Following close behind were four destroyers – HMS Shark, Acasta, Ophelia, and Christopher -- led by Commander Loftus Jones. It was Jones’ intention to engage the German light cruisers with his torpedoes. As he drove his ships into the mist, 5.9-inch shells rained down around the four destroyers as Boedicker’s light cruisers turned to crush their pursuers. Jones’ ships were hit several times, blowing holes in their decks as splinters mowed down the gun crews. HMS Acasta was hit by two shells (one under he bridge) and sheered off wildly, temporarily out of control. Just moments later -- when all seemed lost – HMS Canterbury (Hood’s other light cruiser) appeared out of nowhere and lured the German light cruisers off to the SW. Jones and his three badly battered destroyers had been saved – but his salvation was brief. To the west he could make out the misty shadows of numerous torpedo boats bearing down upon his small force. Meanwhile, motionless under the guns of three battlecruisers, Wiesbaden’s troubles were just beginning. As the British battlecruisers swept past, they poured shell after shell into her. The Germans steadfastly manned their guns and returned fire on the big cruisers. Each shell impact shook the light cruiser, blasting holes in her deck, demolishing her bridge, and starting fires, but she remained afloat. As the exposed gun crews took casualties, they were replaced by the stokers no longer needed below decks. Wiesbaden kept up a steady return fire over the next few hours, while becoming a sitting target for most of the British fleet. But Wiesbaden stubbornly refused to sink, and her remaining crew had the audacity to fire torpedoes at passing British battleships. German torpedo boats go into action in an effort to turn back Admiral Hood’s 3rd Battlecruiser Squadron – 17:56 – 31 May 1916. (Black & white detail of Claus Bergen painting.) SMS Lutzow’s lookouts spotted Hood’s approaching battlecruisers in the distant mist, and Hipper acted quickly. He had just ordered his torpedo boats into an attack on Beatty’s ships, but this new threat was much more dangerous – their shells were falling far too close for comfort – and Hipper feared they might be the lead elements of the Grand Fleet. Hipper diverted the torpedo boats and sent them against Hood’s battlecruisers instead. He hoped they might be able to turn the enemy away, and perhaps, give him a small advantage. Torpedo boats of the 6th and 9th Flotillas are once again sent into action. They are charging full bore to reach an attack position against Hood’s 3rd Battlecruiser Squadron. HMS Invincible (flag), is seen on the right, leading the line. (Claus Bergen) Hipper’s combined flotillas smashed headlong into Jones’ tiny force and a vicious and chaotic close-quarter action ensued. Boats dodged and darted in and out of the mist and smoke – their machinery straining as they tried to get around Jones and close with the three mammoth battlecruisers. HMS Christopher and Ophilia each tackled an opponent and blazed away as they twisted and turned, trying to gain some sort of advantage. Jones put his helm over at full speed and drove HMS Shark across the bows of three German torpedo boats, forcing them to sheer off violently as his guns peppered each one in turn. He came about to make another run but his luck had run out. At least six torpedo boats were firing on Shark, and in an instant, the forecastle gun and its crew were blown clean away, and her fuel feed pipes and steering gear were wrecked – and she went dead in the water. HMS Acasta, once more under control, offered a tow line, but Commander Jones waved them off – it would have unduly endangered Acasta. Soon after, Shark’s aft 4-inch gun was destroyed, her bridge wrecked, and Jones and three seamen continued to operate the midships gun until one of his legs was shot away. Shortly before 18:00, Jones ordered the ship abandoned – it is believed Shark at least took one German torpedo boat down with her. The mortally wounded Jones was placed into a life raft with six survivors – who were eventually rescued by a Danish steamer. Jones, however, was not among them. His body washed ashore some weeks later on the coast of Sweden and he is buried in the village churchyard of Fiskenbacksie. In March 1917, Commander Loftus Jones was gazetted with a posthumous Victoria Cross. An even dozen of the 31 German torpedo boats managed to close the British battlecruisers – some as close as 7,000 yards -- and each loosed a torpedo at their target. But the torpedo boats could not blunt, nor deflect, Hood’s approach – and he expertly avoided the torpedoes before returning to his course. Loftus Jones and the little Shark had born the brunt of the battle and blunted the German torpedo attack. His ship and crew created absolute chaos, disrupting the German attack, and tying down nearly two thirds of the attacking torpedo boats. There is little doubt he prevented the probable destruction of Hood’s battlecruisers. Hood’s 3rd Battlecruiser Squadron approaching from the NE. Left to right: HMS Invincible (flag), Inflexible, and Indomitable. HMS Inflexible and Indomitable had seen action at the Falkland Islands battle. Hood improvised this formation (in echelon) in order to open up the firing arcs on “A” and “P” turrets (port wing turret) while approaching and closing the range on Hipper’s ships. Below is a detail shot of Invincible – note the unmistakable heavy tripod masts of these “first generation” battlecruisers. Invincible Class: 17,250 tons – 25 knots – 8x12-inch guns – 16x4-inch guns – 5x18-inch torpedo tubes – belt armor 6 inches. The arrival of the 3rd Battlecruiser Squadron was even more fortuitous than was, at first, apparent. Had Hipper’s torpedo boats not been diverted to attack Hood’s squadron, they would have carried out the original attack on Beatty’s battlecruisers. The British ships would have been forced to turn away from the threatened torpedo attack. With Beatty’s ships out of the way, Hipper would have had a clear line of sight to the approaching Grand Fleet. He would have instantly reported the range, bearing, and course of the enemy to Vizeadmiral Scheer, thereby giving him the intelligence he needed to devise a tactical response. Based on the positions of the two battle fleets at that moment, Scheer might well have been able to catch Jellicoe at a severe disadvantage. Scheer would most certainly have thrown the Grand Fleet into disarray – he might even have inflicted grievous losses on the British. But we will never know, because “Fate” had intervened in the shape of Rear-Admiral Horace Hood. In the confusing dogfight developing around this small stretch of ocean, Lutzow’s lookouts spotted the battered Wiesbaden in distress. Hipper turned his battlecruisers through 8 points and steered to the NW at high speed. The battleships of Scheer’s III Battle Squadron also altered course to come up in support. At the same time, Boedicker’s 2nd Scouting Group (slightly east of the disabled Wiesbaden) was taken under fire by Arbuthnot’s armored cruisers (attached to the battle fleet) as they arrived on the scene around 17:53. Arbuthnot led Defence (flag) and Warrior across HMS Lion’s bow as they approached from the ESE (forcing the battlecruiser to take evasive action to avoid a collision). Defence and Warrior took Wiesbaden under fire, and though crippled, the German cruiser returned fire -- knocking out Warrior’s forward turret. This headlong dash across the battlecruisers’ bows was typical of Arbuthnot – impetuous and certainly over-eager. His four armored cruisers were, next to Scheer’s pre-dreadnoughts, just as obsolete, but far less battle-worthy. Only one would survive Jutland. The 3rd and 4th Light Cruiser Squadrons going in to support destroyers as they launch a torpedo attack on the approaching German battlecruiser squadron and battle fleet. Around this time, the British 3rd Light Cruiser Squadron (Falmouth, Yarmouth, Birkenhead, Gloucester) and 4th Light Cruiser Squadron (Constance, Caroline, Royalist, Comus) saw the approaching German battlecruisers and initiated a torpedo attack with their attending destroyers. The destroyer HMS Acasta charged down on Lutzow but was met by a barrage of 5.9-inch shells, hit twice, and forced to retire. One destroyer, HMS Onslow, whirling and firing amid the melee, spotted the disabled Wiesbaden in a favorable position to launch torpedoes at the approaching 3rd Battlecruiser Squadron. Onslow’s Captain opened fire with his 4.1-inch guns and moved in, ready to torpedo the battered German cruiser. Suddenly, SMS Lutzow appeared out of the smoke and mist coming to Wiesbaden’s aid. Onslow held on and got off one torpedo in Wiesbaden’s direction – but Lutzow opened with her 5.9-inch batteries at 6,500 yards -- almost at the same time. Onslow’s lookouts thought their torpedo hit beneath Wiesbaden’s conning tower, and the destroyer swung to starboard and fired two more torpedoes at the approaching battlecruiser line (both missed). In a matter of moments, Onslow was struck by five 5.9-inch shells, one of which entered and badly damaged the #2 boiler room – destroying the water feed tanks and leaving her dead in the water. Fortunately for Onslow, the rolling clouds of smoke closed around Lutzow again, and she had to cease fire. (Onslow was later taken in tow by HMS Defender and eventually returned safely to port. Her captain, Lieutenant-Commander John C. Tovey, would live to make Admiral and command the Home Fleet in the May 1941 action against KM Bismarck.) In all this confusion, with the odds seemingly against him, Konteradmiral Boedicker took his remaining ships and fell back on Hipper and Scheer. The sudden swarm of battlecruisers, destroyers, and armored cruisers led him to believe the British had a large force of capital ships – in all probability the Grand Fleet – approaching from the east and northeast. Without visual proof, Boedicker signaled that information (faulty information) to Vizeadmiral Scheer. Twice during all this confusion, and under a heavy fire from Beatty and Evan-Hughs’ squadrons, Hipper turned away to the south, quickly regrouped, and steamed back north to attempt to break through the line of British gunfire. Hipper had the gnawing suspicion the Grand Fleet might well be nearby. But he was unable to get through the British line to scout north of the battle zone. Boedicker, comparatively in the open to the north east, could have pushed ahead and shortly ascertained the exact location of the Grand Fleet – its course – speed – and strength. But Konteradmiral Boedicker had “flinched” – at the very moment he needed to press ahead. The Konteradmiral would play no further part in the battle – more or less. Meanwhile, Jellicoe was steadily advancing southeast, his dreadnoughts steaming in six columns – each column a division of four battleships. Over an hour had passed since he signaled the Admiralty, and the only communication he had received was Arbuthnot’s first contact with Beatty’s screening cruisers. Jellicoe knew he must start his deployment into battle formation soon. To be taken under fire while steaming in columns would be a gross tactical blunder – and simply would not do. But not a word had been heard from Beatty – or even Hood. And, as if the lack of information was not troubling enough, Jellicoe was well aware his battle fleet was a flawed instrument. The mass of data Jellicoe had accumulated (years earlier as Third Sea Lord) included the latest intelligence information on German warships, guns, and armor – and his pre-war “courtesy” visits to Wilhelmshaven and Kiel left him… ”under no delusions as to their skills...and convinced me that in materiel, the Germans were ahead of us…” It was well known the German torpedo boats, light cruisers, and even capital ships carried heavier torpedo armaments – with better torpedoes. Very familiar with Fisher’s “speed equals armor” dictum – Jellicoe knew many of his dreadnoughts had inferior armor arrangements – but even he did not know the half of it. And numbers of Royal Navy officers had been treated to exhibitions of German gunnery and torpedo skills in the years leading up to war, though many tried to make light of what they knew to be efficient and accurate firepower. Equally disturbing, Jellicoe knew British gunnery to be of dubious quality. It suffered from ship to ship, even though he constantly stressed gunnery training – and was particularly bad in the Battlecruiser Fleet because there were no suitable gunnery ranges at Cromarty or the Firth of Forth. The chief reason, however, was because most of the dreadnoughts had only “portions” of an updated fire control system installed. And Jellicoe was less than happy about the quality of British shells. As Third Sea Lord he had presided over extensive tests with 12-inch and 13.5-inch armor-piercing projectiles. British shells were outstanding when fired at a low trajectory (close range) with a 90-degree impact on the target. When fired from longer ranges, with a “plunging angle”, the shells were considerably less reliable – exploding on contact – sometimes not at all – or simply breaking up. Even worse – the Lyddite explosive used in the shells was highly unstable – especially in hot conditions. (Two battleships – the pre-dreadnought HMS Bulwark, November 1914, and the dreadnought HMS Vanguard, July 1917 – sank due to ammunition explosions.) The British battleships, on the whole, appeared mighty and majestic, but they suffered from their share of design and engineering errors. Many secondary batteries were only of 4-inch caliber, while those of the more suitable 6-inch size were often poorly sited with bad firing arcs, and were all but useless in a medium seaway. The majestic behemoths also displayed an amazing number of design defects in their propulsion plants. Up to five dreadnoughts at a time were frequently side-lined with condenser troubles, and the battlecruiser Indomitable was prone to electrical failures, with the occasional fire as a result of defective circuits. And four, five, or as many as six dreadnoughts could be found in dockyard hands for boiler repair. (The British insisted on using “large tube” boilers, whereas the Germans used the more reliable “small-tube” boilers.) Such as it was, Jellicoe dutifully steered the Grand Fleet southeast at its’ best practicable speed, hoping he would arrive at the right place in time to support Beatty. And yet – he could not forget at the Battle of the Falkland Islands, Sturdee’s two 12-inch-gunned battlecruisers had taken just over three hours -- and almost all their ammunition – to sink two German armored cruisers with 8.2-inch guns. Captain Allen, commanding the cruiser HMS Kent during the action, had written in his battle report… ”The Germans, though out-ranged, shot magnificently. Any time the range closed, they scored hits with tightly grouped salvos. Never have I seen heavy guns fired with such rapidity and yet with such control.” Jellicoe could only hope he would arrive in time to throw his overwhelming number of ships into the equation. SMS Derfflinger (center) with SMS Lutzow (right) leading the line around 17:58 – they are closely engaged with Beatty’s battlecruisers to port. A torpedo boat is in position along the disengaged side of the battle line. Two minutes later, Hipper would fall back to cover the van of the Hochseeflotte. As the confused and brutal combat flowed back and forth, Hipper handled his big Panzerkreuzer with a deft touch, making use of their excellent gunnery skills and ability to absorb punishment to keep taking the fight to the British. The more lightly armored British battlecruisers were suffering terrible punishment and Beatty had, several times, opened the range and dodged into thick smoke to try and relieve the pressure on his hard-pressed squadron. The sudden and aggressive arrival of Hood’s 3rd Battlecruiser squadron was a Godsend to Beatty. Some historians have gone so far as to suggest Hood saved Beatty’s ships from complete destruction. Hipper was unable to break through the British line, two of his ships were heavily damaged, and his flagship’s wireless aerials had been shot away – he thought it best to turn away. Beatty had already forced him out of position to the east -- the sudden appearance of three fresh battlecruisers was most unwelcome – and the big 15-inch shells of the 5th battle Squadron continued to rain down among his ships. The shrewd Bavarian could see little advantage to being boxed-in on three sides -- and he was out of position to cover Scheer’s van. At 18:00 he hoisted a flag signal, repeated it with a searchlight, and led the Panzerkreuzer onto a southerly course, swiftly disappearing into the smoke and haze. In a few more minutes, he would come around to the north and assume his position in advance of the Hochseeflotte. Though still under fire, he had evaded being boxed-in, and now had room to maneuver. Just seconds after Hipper disappeared into the smoke, the visibility to the north opened up, briefly, and lookouts aboard HMS Iron Duke sighted HMS Lion. Jellicoe’s fleet was still in sailing formation and he was desperate to get information on the location and course of the German battle fleet. He impatiently signaled Lion demanding...”Where is enemy battle fleet?” -- he sent it twice. Beatty, had deliberately lured Hipper out of position to prevent him discovering the approaching Grand Fleet – but that meant he was no longer able to see the German battleships, and failed to respond to the question until 18:14. (Even then his response was of little help.) Meanwhile, Jellicoe signaled HMS Marlborough, flagship of the 6th Battleship Division, leading the starboard column...”What can you see?” Vice-Admiral Burney replied three minutes later...”Our battlecruisers – bearing SE – steering east – Lion leading.” Marlborough signaled again at 18:05...”5th Battle Squadron bearing SSE.” Now Jellicoe knew where everyone was – except for the Germans – and he had come to the point of no return. In reality, Hipper’s battlecruisers were only eight and a half miles to the southeast. But Jellicoe could only see gun flashes through the rolling smoke -- lighting the sky above in a pale orange glow. They rippled in an irregular line as the thunder of the big guns rolled across the water. But Jellicoe still knew nothing of the enemy, and none of his own warships bothered to send a report. As Vice-Admiral John Jellicoe hovered on the brink of decision, he had no way of knowing his decision – whatever it might be – would lead to more than a century of criticism and controversy. None of which, in the final analysis, would be deserved – little of which could be said to be accurate – and most of which was untruthful and self-serving of others. But that was all in the future. His problem, right now, was information – or rather, the lack of it. Without adequate knowledge of the enemy battle fleet’s position, he had to decide how to deploy six columns of battleships into a single line of battle – in the shortest time possible – and to his best tactical advantage. Jellicoe had drilled them well. The Grand Fleet was a well-oiled tactical tool, capable of deploying into one of several formations, but most usually into “line-ahead” from either the port or starboard columns – and all within fifteen minutes. But fifteen minutes, amid the raging chaos of gunfire and smoke, would be far too long – if a mistake was made. Without knowing your enemy’s location, course, or speed – the deployment could be too soon or too late. Deploying too soon (and out of sight of your enemy) could place your battle fleet at a tactical disadvantage – your broadside guns might not fully bear on target – your own funnel smoke might blind your gunners – you might find your enemy “crossing the T” on your bow – or the enemy might simply refuse to give battle and turn away into the mists. Deploy too late and the enemy might well catch part of your fleet still in sailing formation – with your own ships masking each other’s fire while trying to get into line-ahead. That would be the perfect target for the crack gunnery ships of the Hochseeflotte – and a choice target for torpedo boats. Deployment was also a matter of choosing the right tactical formation and “where” you wanted it to be. The answer to that question came at 18:10 when HMS Barham sent in a sighting report referencing HMS Lion’s position and that of the German battle fleet. Jellicoe stood on Iron Duke’s compass platform with his flag-navigator, signal officer, and Dreyer, his flag-captain. Jellicoe was bent over the compass, with the collar of his worn blue raincoat turned up and a white muffler around his neck to keep out the damp. The tarnished brass on the old rumpled hat looked right at home on the man wearing it. But that man held the fate of an entire fleet in his hands. Jellicoe knew the bearing of HMS Lion, and had just barely been able to get a bearing on HMS Barham. By reverse-engineering their reported bearings on the enemy – Jellicoe figured The Hochseeflotte was about ten miles due south. He stared at the compass another twenty seconds, his mind going through the necessary maneuvers, ticking-off the variables, then he turned to the Fleet Signal Officer...”Hoist equal-speed pendant SE”. That was the coded flag signal to maintain speed and prepare to deploy on the port column. The flags raced up the halyards, and battleships to port and starboard quickly acknowledged. Jellicoe stepped away from the compass and spoke to his flag-captain...”Dreyer, commence the deployment.” Dreyer quickly dropped down the ladder to the navigation bridge and blew two short blasts on the ship’s siren – the order to execute the maneuver. The siren blasts were taken up by the other battleships as the column leaders began their precision turns to port and fell into the line-ahead battle formation. The sirens sounded odd, and very much out of place as they mingled with the thunder of gunfire and screech of falling shells. The exact time of the order was logged as 16:15 hours. For more than a century, Vice-Admiral Jellicoe has been roundly criticized by numbers of newspaper men, politicians, and “armchair admirals” over his choice to deploy on the port column – “away from the enemy”. These critics are, for the most part, unqualified to offer an opinion on subjects of which they are, at the most basic levels, truly ignorant. What did a newspaper columnist or a Member of Parliament know about handling a fleet of 24 dreadnought battleships? And not one of them could have imagined the haze, mist, and rolling banks of smoke that obscured nearly everything south of the British battle fleet. Even Winston Churchill, First Lord of the Admiralty, had never served at sea – his post was purely “civil” – a civilian politician dealing with politics and budgets. He did, indeed, give orders – but (supposedly) only in consultation with the First SEA Lord – a naval officer of long experience. History would show his criticism, in particular, to be both hasty, and ill-advised. Jellicoe chose to deploy on the port column for four primary reasons; (1) He intended to work around the German battle fleet to the east and cut them off from their bases. The port column deployment was best suited to that task – (2) The battleships composing the two starboard columns were the least modern in the fleet with weaker armor and only 12-inch guns, while the port column deployment would place the modern, 13.5-inch-gunned King George V Class ships in the van of the battle line – (3) Each of the two port columns contained one 15-inch-gunned Revenge Class battleship -- (4) A starboard deployment was only 4,000 yards closer to the Germans, but it might have given their battle fleet time to block his deployment and throw the fleet into chaos. Finally – in view of his Flag Officer’s inability to keep him informed – it was clear to Jellicoe he could only control his fleet if he formed a “line ahead” battle formation. All of these are perfectly sound reasons for deploying to port. And the decision was made by the man “on the spot” – the professional – not by men in drawing rooms with a cigar in their mouth and a glass of brandy in their hand. The expectation of every Englishman was that Jellicoe and the vaunted Grand Fleet would secure a victory every bit as magnificent as Trafalgar. But this was a singularly uninformed expectation. It should be noted, by way of comparison, neither battle had much in common with the other. At Trafalgar there were 71 ships engaged. At Jutland there were 260. The weather at Trafalgar was clear with a light wind allowing them to close for battle at an agonizingly slow 3 knots. At Jutland, by the time the Grand Fleet deployed for action, the weather had deteriorated into a misting haze made miserably worse by the smoke from hundreds of guns and funnels – and the opposing fleets were closing at a combined speed of nearly 40 knots. And finally, Nelson had been in full view of his enemy since early morning – Jellicoe would not see his enemy until after he had deployed for battle. Comparison would be, as they say, “like apples to oranges”. SMS Moltke, fourth in line, as Hipper screens the battle fleet steaming north around 18:15. Other ships are still falling into line, but SMS Von der Tann is already astern of Moltke as the torpedo boats close up to screen the flanks. Note the bow wave (about 22 knots) and the funnel smoke drifting to leeward. (Willy Stower) While Jellicoe’s deployment was in progress, the rest of the confused mass of warships, out of sight of the forming battle line, played out their individual scenes in the drama. Hipper had rejoined Scheer to the south, and was now leading the line as the battle squadrons of the Hochseeflotte steamed north – completely unaware of the presence of the Grand Fleet. Scheer’s ships were a bit strung out because they had been chasing the British at their “best speed”. The Konig and Kaiser Class ships of the III Battle Squadron were well closed-up. And the Helgoland Class ships of the I Battle Squadron were keeping station astern of them – but the Nassau Class ships of I Battle Squadron were a bit older and slower, and a gap in the line had opened (about two miles). Some three miles astern, Konteradmiral Mauve was cutting-corners on course changes in an effort to keep his plodding pre-dreadnoughts in the line. Hipper was in sight of Beatty and following him around to the NE, while Scheer was adjusting his course accordingly. Jellicoe signaled Evan-Hughes to make his best speed north and take up position at the end of the battle line. (Jellicoe would have preferred to have the super-dreadnoughts in the van, but they would have had a long trek across the front of the battle line – masking the fire of the Grand Fleet and obscuring their targets with funnel smoke.) Beatty had heard the repeated siren blasts of the Grand Fleet battleships and could see they were forming a line of battle. Still engaged with Hipper, he dutifully steered to take up his position at the head of the battle line. Unfortunately, Beatty’s ravaged battlecruisers had to steam across the front of the battle fleet to get there. Their funnel smoke and the smoke from serious fires aboard HMS Lion completely obscured Jellicoe’s view to the south – but there was no other way for Beatty to reach his assigned battle position. (While Beatty’s smoke effectively concealed the Grand Fleet’s deployment from the Germans, it also concealed the German battle fleet from Jellicoe’s deploying battleships. They would be unable to open fire until Beatty was out of the way.) Rear-Admiral Hood took it on his own initiative to reattach his command to the Battlecruiser Fleet and came about to take station ahead of Beatty’s line. Rear-Admiral Sir Robert Keith Arbuthnot, 4th Baronet Edinburgh – 1864–1916. Commander 1st Cruiser Squadron, Grand Fleet. A strict disciplinarian, he performed gymnastics daily on the quarter deck, attended daily church services aboard ship, and competed in the 1904 Bexhill Speed Trials in his “Sunbeam Tonneau” motor car. It was at this point in time (around 17:53) that Rear Admiral Arbuthnot had earlier charged across Beatty’s bows and rushed at the disabled light cruiser SMS Wiesbaden. At the time, Beatty was steering NE under heavy fire from Hipper’s battlecruisers. About 8,000 yards off Beatty’s starboard quarter the torpedo boat / destroyer melee was still in wild progress with German light cruisers weighing in and swinging the battle in their favor. This area was crowded with dozens of destroyers and light cruisers crossing and recrossing each other’s wakes while attempting to reach their assigned stations with the Grand Fleet. Another 8,000 yards or so to the south and closing the range were Hipper’s battlecruisers. This area between the two battle lines was so congested with swirling ships and falling shells of all calibers – most ships were trying desperately to avoid it. This particular stretch of water – the most fought-over patch of ocean that day -- has gone down in history as “Windy Corner”. But Rear-Admiral Sir Robert Arbuthnot, 4th Baronet Edinburgh, simply ignored the shells falling out of the sky like scattered bird-shot. He spied the drifting light cruiser SMS Wiesbaden, recently crippled and left for dead by HMS Invincible, and like a true “rider to the hounds” – he smelled a “kill”. The armored cruisers HMS Defence (leading) and HMS Warrior charging through the barrage of shells in “Windy Corner”. Defence has just come under fire from SMS Lutzow. Of the four British armored cruisers present at Jutland, three would be lost. They were simply too old and obsolete to be included in a modern battle fleet action. This is the exact reason the Imperial German Naval High Command transferred all their armored cruisers to the Baltic Sea or East Asia. Arbuthnot was not the most analytical mind in the fleet, but he was known to be impetuous and a bit of a fire-breather. He immediately swung 1st Cruiser Squadron out of line along the Grand Fleet’s starboard flank and set off at full speed to the SW. The old armored cruisers gushed mountains of funnel smoke as they strained their boilers to gather speed. Arbuthnot paid little attention to Beatty’s oncoming battlecruisers. Instead, he took the most direct route and charged full-bore across Beatty’s bows. HMS Defence (flag) and Warrior passed ahead of HMS Lion, which had to put her helm up to port to avoid collision – but HMS Black Prince and Duke Of Edinburgh were unable to follow. Arbuthnot pressed on to the SW, trailing a huge cloud of funnel smoke -- effectively obscuring Beatty’s line of fire and forcing him to cease firing on Hipper’s battlecruisers. The armored cruiser HMS Defence is taken under fire by SMS Lutzow (far right) as she appears out of the smoke and haze. Note the size of the water columns thrown up by the 12-inch shells. Though a painting, the artist got the size of the shell splashes correct – they could have easily risen to mast height or more. Defence and Warrior charged on, then slowed and swung their broadsides to bear on the hapless Wiesbaden. The two armored cruisers poured several salvos into the drifting German cruiser – the exact number remains unknown. But within two minutes of Arbuthnot opening fire, dark silhouettes with towering masts, great turrets, and broad-beamed hulls loomed up out of the mist. The Imperial battlecruisers, followed by the Hochseeflotte battle squadrons, were a mere 9,000 yards distant when their massive 11-inch and 12-inch guns opened fire. SMS Lutzow, probably the “best shot” in the fleet, could not miss at this range. The big shells tore great, gaping holes through the vitals of the thin-skinned cruisers. HMS Warrior was reduced to a flaming wreck in seconds, and Defence -- simply vaporized… “...Suddenly disappearing completely in an immense column of smoke and flame, hundreds of feet high. It appeared to be an absolutely instantaneous destruction, the ship seeming to be dismembered all at once.” Arbuthnot had once remarked to the Fleet Flag-Captain, Frederic Dreyer, that he would not give a “dull performance” when the day of “the big show” arrived. Defence was lost with all hands (856 officers and men), and as he had wished, it had not been a “dull performance”. A lieutenant, watching horrified from the nearby HMS Malaya later wrote...”When I first saw them, I knew they were doomed.” One wonders if Arbuthnot even had time to realize the ghastly mistake he had made. In the thick of the “Windy Corner” action, HMS Warspite is seen with her helm jammed in a starboard turn and under heavy fire from the Imperial battlecruisers and elements of the Hochseeflotte. To the right, the badly battered HMS Warrior is limping away to the west. HMS Warrior would have gone the same way if “Fate” – in the shape of HMS Warspite – had not taken a hand. The 5th Battle Squadron was passing fairly close to the west of Warrior – on their way north to take station at the end of Jellicoe’s battle line. Shellfire from both the German battlecruisers and battle fleet had been falling hot and heavy for the past several minutes and Warspite was taking violent evasive maneuvers. Having gotten too close to HMS Valiant’s stern, Warspite hauled out of line to starboard to avoid a collision when a 12-inch shell fired by SMS Kaiser hit the battleship’s port wing engine room. The armor-piercing shell detonated on the aft engine room bulkhead, sending splinters in all directions and seriously warping the bulkhead. Unfortunately, Warspite’s steering gear was mounted on the other side of the bulkhead, and the severe distortion caused the thrust bearing and tiller shaft to overheat and jam the ship’s rudder in a starboard turn at 25 knots. HMS Malaya, following, was forced to sheer out of line to avoid a collision. Warspite continued to swing to starboard and directly toward SMS Konig, leading the German line. Captain Phillpotts decided against stopping Warspite in such a dangerous position, and the big battleship made two complete circles to starboard in the next ten minutes. A circling battleship draws gunfire like a dying whale draws sharks – it also diverted attention away from the mangled Warrior. The German battle fleet had drawn closer with each turn – the last one bringing the battleship within 10,000 yards of the enemy battle line – and Warspite was the first close and clearly visible target the German battleships had yet seen. Between 18:20 and 18:24, SMS Friedrich der Grosse, Konig, Helgoland, Ostfriesland, Thuringen, Nassau, and Oldenburg concentrated their main and secondary batteries on the unlucky Warspite. As the German battle line steamed north, they moved into a patch of smoke and heavy mist, most of the battleships losing their target, but Ostfriesland maintained a steady and accurate fire until 18:45 when she, too, was forced to cease fire. HMS Warspite was surrounded by the towering shell splashes from nearly sixty large caliber guns, and hit with thirteen large shells and an unknown number of 5.9-inch rounds in quick succession. One shell struck the port side armor belt, penetrated and detonated twelve feet inboard, wrecking the fresh water tanks and opening a 3 x 3-foot hole to the sea – eventually flooding the port wing engine room. The next shell exploded in the aft funnel casing, completely collapsing the forward boiler room air intakes. Another shell blasted a hole in the starboard aft 6-inch casemate, taking out the gun and starting a large powder blaze. Two shells struck the starboard main armor belt almost simultaneously, but failed to penetrate – pushing in the armor plate and starting leaks. One 5.9-inch shell struck the left hand barrel of “Y” turret, putting the 15-inch gun tube out of action. The remaining large and medium caliber shells managed to start a fire in the starboard 6-inch casemate battery, damaged the main rangefinder and gun director tower, cut the gunnery control leads, penetrated three decks to knock out the main gunnery transmitting station, mangled the forward superstructure and the aft superstructure, destroyed both wing bridges, the auxiliary compass platform, and landed yet another hit in the machinery spaces. In effect, Warspite was on fire in several places, her speed reduced to 16 knots, and her remaining firepower amounted to two guns in “A” turret. With her guns virtually useless, and her speed an absolute hindrance to the Grand Fleet, Evan-Thomas ordered the ship to withdraw westward and make for the Rosyth dockyards. Warspite had not been sunk – but she had been “neutralized”. And there is an oft overlooked lesson, here. YES – the 15-inch guns of the Queen Elizabeth Class fast-battleships were Hipper’s worst nightmare – but their armor scheme proved Warspite to be just as vulnerable as any other British battleship. The ships of the 5th Battle Squadron had no supernatural protection against gunfire – contrary to what some historians would lead you to believe. HMS Warrior – commissioned 1906: 13,550 tons – 23 knots – 6x9.2-inch guns – 4x7.5-inch guns – 3x18-inch torpedo tubes – belt armor 6 inches. Seen here, circa 1908, off the Round Tower, Portsmouth, when she was assigned to the Channel Fleet. Meanwhile, HMS Warrior struggled on. Though her engine rooms were filling with water, the engines continued to turn the propellers and she limped, unnoticed, to the west and into the night. At some point, HMS Engadine chanced upon her and took the battered hulk under tow. But Arbuthnot’s foolhardy bravado had done for Warrior as well. Her crew, those still alive, were taken off and she sank the following day with the surprising loss of only 70 men after such a harrowing experience. SIDEBAR Much has been said about floating mines and minefields in various chapters, so I thought a brief discussion might be in order. The “floating mine” came into common use between 1900 and 1914. Though mines could be laid in varying depths of water, they were particularly suited to the relatively shallow waters of the North Sea. “Floating mines”, as they were commonly called, were actually anchored by a heavy base mechanism resting on the seabed. The explosive “mine”, usually spherical with “spiked” detonator nodes, was allowed to float toward the surface on a cable attached to the base, stopping at a predetermined depth. The idea was to set them deep enough so they remained largely invisible while the submerged part of a ship’s hull would make contact and detonate the device. Mines were usually laid in “fields” (groups) according to the desired purpose. The number of mines in a field varied. Rule of thumb: The more mines in a field – and the larger the field area -- the better the chance of sinking a ship, or ships. Minefields could be laid for several reasons: (1) Randomly placed fields could be laid across a known “sea lane” (commonly used routes), or where more than one sea lane came together (intersection), usually to attack merchant shipping. (2) Mines could be laid off an enemy naval base to “ambush” warships. Or -- (3) Minefields could be “area denial” weapons. You could protect your important harbors with minefields, denying approach to the enemy, while you knew the cleared path through the field. The British became particularly aggressive and prolific in their use of mines. Early in the war fields were used at random to ambush unsuspecting German warships, and gradually came to be seen as a cheap alternative to exposing their capital ships to submarine attack. By late 1916, the Royal Navy hit on a plan to isolate the Hochseeflotte inside the German Bight by surrounding it with minefields. Eventually, they developed a similar plan to created “mine barrages” to close the English Channel against German warships and submarines, with a similar “barrage” from Scotland to Norway to deny German submarines access to the Atlantic shipping lanes. These “barrages” were of epic proportions – thickly sewn with, literally, millions upon millions of mines – and their own trawler and minesweeper fleets to maintain them. Some German U-Boat skippers were unbelievably brave, adept at navigating their way through the barrages – out-bound and the return journey. But many boats set out on patrol and simply never returned. Both the Germans and the British built several “minelayers” – usually fast light cruisers specially designed to act as cruiser/minelayers. But the increasing use of mines led to vast fleets of “minesweepers” to clear old mine fields, or remove the fields planted by your enemy. Both sides had purpose-built sweepers, but were forced to convert a variety of fishing trawlers and other small craft to handle the immense work load. In the Kaiserliche Marine, the mining and sweeping operations were coordinated by the Admiral Commanding Baltic Forces, and the Admiral Commanding the Hochseeflotte. In the North Sea, the majority of minesweepers were home-ported out of Wilhelmshaven and tended to the defensive minefields in the Jade Estuary with overall responsibility for keeping “cleared” lanes swept through the British minefields surrounding the German Bight. Smaller detachments of minesweepers were stationed at the ports along the Elbe and Weser rivers to keep the routes and deep-water channels cleared to the open sea. This is Cuxhaven’s minesweeper station. Six old Goliath Class tugs have been converted to minesweeping duties. On the right, along the seawall, you have two Odin Class harbor tugs (nested, diagonal) and one Passat Class (diagonal) tug by “AP”. The docks and warehouses were re-lotted from “Somy’s Japanese Tugs”. The Quonset Huts are from the “SNM Naval Series”, and the barracks building is re-purposed from Mattb325’s “UC Sydney” lot. Above and below are two close-up views of the steam tug Goliath, courtesy of “Barroco Hispano”. This superbly detailed model is a joy to behold. She has a small raised forecastle deck designed to reduce the amount of water taken over the bow in rough seas. Larger than the average tug of her day, Goliath was used for ocean-going work as well as for heavy hauling. Minesweepers had heavy wire cables (called “paravanes”) permanently attached to the fore-foot for sweeping operations. The cables would be paid-out on either beam and a “Paravane Kite” was attached at the end, then lowered into the water. The “kite” is that greenish object on the aft deck, shaped like a torpedo with wings. As the sweeper gathered speed, the kite would glide below the surface at a designated depth and pull the cables out until they formed a large inverted “V” to either side of the minesweeper. The paravane cables would cut the anchor cables on the mines, which then floated to the surface and were destroyed by gunfire. Primitive, but effective. This is a view of a holding basin beside the minesweeper station. To the left of the basin are the munitions docks. On the left side you can see two Esmeralda Class paddle tugs moored to “Barrel buoys”. ABOVE: In the lower left, an Odin Class harbor tug (diagonal) has come alongside two lighters moored to “dolphins”. They put a work crew aboard the lighters and are preparing to take them under tow. Another pair of similar lighters is also being prepared and a small boat is running the towing hawser. BELOW: Another view of the same scene. The lighters, harbor tug, paddle tugs, mooring dolphins, small boats, and barge crane are all the imaginative work of @AP. NEXT TIME…… THE DEATH OF TWO BATTLECRUISERS MANY THANKS to @Barroco Hispano for his beautiful warship models. SPECIAL THANKS to my friend and partner, @AP, for his talents, meticulous models, colorful imagination, 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 https://community.simtropolis.com/forums/topic/761469-simtropolis-shipyard/?tab=comments#comment-1766496

HMS Barham, flagship, leading the 5th Battle Squadron east in rising seas -- 31 May 1916. IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: CUXHAVEN By: Dreadnought & AP Chapter 28: AN INNOCUOUS LITTLE STEAMER On the morning of 31 May 1916, Beatty’s Battlecruiser Fleet was 120 miles from its base, steering east into the rising sun at a comfortable 19 knots. Beatty’s flagship, HMS Lion, was leading 1st Battlecruiser Squadron (known as “the splendid cats” – HMS Lion, Princess Royal, Queen Mary, Tiger), all mounting 13.5-inch guns. The 2nd Battlecruiser Squadron followed (New Zealand and Indefatigable), mounting 12-inch guns. Accompanying the big ships were the 1st Light Cruiser Squadron (Galatea, Phaeton, Inconstant, Cordelia), 2nd Light Cruiser Squadron (Southampton, Birmingham, Nottingham, Dublin), 3rd Light Cruiser Squadron (Falmouth, Yarmouth, Birkenhead, Gloucester), and 29 destroyers of the 1st, 13th, 9th, and 10th Flotillas. Trailing along with Beatty’s capital ships was the seaplane carrier Engadine, included with the notion that her three floatplanes could be launched to search ahead of the scouting battlecruisers if the German forces proved to be elusive. (In all truth, the term “carrier” was something of a misnomer. Engadine had no “flying-off decks” and was nothing more than a seagoing aircraft hangar for floatplanes.) As the Battlecruiser Fleet sliced through the early morning mists, Beatty was missing his 3rd Battlecruiser Squadron (Invincible, Indomitable, Inflexible, Australia). HMS Australia was in dockyard hands at Rosyth, and the remainder of the squadron had been temporarily attached to the Grand Fleet. The poor gunnery performance of Beatty’s ships had, rightly or wrongly, been attributed to the fact there were no suitable gunnery ranges in the Firth of Forth. So Jellicoe had prevailed upon Beatty to detach them to the Scapa Flow practice ranges. In return, Jellicoe sent four of the five battleships of the 5th Battle Squadron to Rosyth – which more than made up the difference. (The fifth fast battleship – Queen Elizabeth – was also in dockyard care.) Early on, Beatty had lobbied for the fast battleships to be attached to his battlecruiser command, but Jellicoe insisted on keeping the Queen Elizabeth’s under his own control as a “fast tactical wing” of the battle fleet. At 24 knots, they were nearly as fast as the old Invincible Class battlecruisers, and their superior 15-inch guns and “battleship armor” made them ideal to race ahead and protect the leading elements of the battle fleet – if Beatty, somehow, was unable to do so. But Fate had, as it so often does, stepped in to deliver these fast-battleships into Beatty’s hands on the eve of battle. Rear-Admiral Evan-Thomas was known to be a thorough and steady commander and was among the best ship-handlers in the Grand Fleet. His fast battleships-were far better armored than British battlecruisers, his 15-inch guns far more powerful, and his crews had been trained and practiced according to Grand Fleet gunnery standards. In effect, Beatty had under his control, the single most powerful tactical element in the Fleet – or any fleet, for that matter. This fact was not lost on other flag-officers in the Grand Fleet. When the original temporary transfer was arranged, Rear-Admiral Horace Hood, commanding 3rd Battlecruiser Squadron remarked…”I think this is a great mistake. If David Beatty has these ships with him, nothing will stop him from taking on the whole German Fleet if he gets the chance.” Prophetic words, indeed. Beatty seemed to have a love/hate relationship with the 5th Battle Squadron. Since the fast-battleships were only on temporary assignment, neither Beatty, nor Evan-Thomas -- or even the ship’s crews – considered them to be “part of” the Battlecruiser Fleet. They had never trained together, and Beatty had given 5th Battle Squadron no special orders or instructions, so the battleships and battlecruisers had no cohesive plan or “unit bonding”. Evan-Thomas’ battleships were accustomed to operating under strict battle instructions issued by Jellicoe – Beatty’s battlecruisers had no such guidelines. In addition, the fast-battleships were widely known to have excellent gunnery scores – a fact which irritated more than one battlecruiser captain. And finally, some battlecruiser crews and officers (to include Beatty) felt as though the presence of the battleships reflected poorly on their ability to deal with the Germans. It was as if Jellicoe was sending “big brother” to help because “little brother” couldn’t handle it. And, gossip though it may be, there has always been a good deal of speculation that Beatty did not want Evan-Thomas’ battleships to “steal his thunder”. Whatever the truth may be – and however you may interpret it -- Beatty’s sailing instructions assigned the 5th Battle Squadron to a position five miles astern of his battlecruisers. As the morning sun rose higher, Beatty’s ships continued nearly due east. He had orders to proceed to a point somewhat south of, and twenty miles farther east than, the Grand Fleet. Upon reaching this advanced position, if there was no sign of the enemy, he was to double-back to the northwest and rendezvous with the Grand Fleet some ninety miles west of the Skagerrak. To translate ship names to numbers -- his immediate force amounted to 6 battlecruisers, 4 fast-battleships, 12 light cruisers, and 29 destroyers (not to mention Engadine). Grand Fleet at sea – circa 1916. Farther north, the sun rose a bit earlier, but Jellicoe had already been on HMS Iron Duke’s bridge for an hour. He would soon signal for a course change to southeast-by-east, but would maintain 15 knots, the most economical speed for his destroyer screens. Ten miles ahead were the scouting cruisers of Rear-Admiral Hood’s 3rd Battlecruiser Squadron (HMS Invincible, Indomitable, and Indefatigable – accompanied by the light cruisers Chester and Canterbury). Behind Hood’s scouting force were the four old armored cruisers of Rear-Admiral Herbert Heath’s 2nd Cruiser Squadron (Minotaur, Hampshire, Cochrane, Shannon) accompanied by the 4th Light Cruiser Squadron (Constance, Caroline, Royalist, Comus). Jellicoe’s main body comprised the battleships of the 4th Battle Squadron (HMS Iron Duke (flag), Royal Oak, Superb, Canada, Benbow, Bellerophon, Temeraire, Vanguard) and the 1st Battle Squadron (Colossus, Collingwood, Neptune, St. Vincent, Marlborough, Revenge, Hercules, Agincourt). For the record – it should be noted HMS Royal Oak and Revenge were the first two battleships of the Revenge Class to join the fleet. They were supposed to be a second squadron of Queen Elizabeth Class “fast-battleships” – but due to financial objections by the Chancellor of the Exchequer – they were built “on the cheap” as improved versions of HMS Iron Duke. The 15-inch guns and 13-inch armor belt remained the same, but their boilers and machinery were considerably reduced, resulting in a top speed of only 21 knots. As such, they were a powerful addition to the battle line. This force, strung out for miles from “tip to tail” – even with the battleships steaming in four columns – was due to link-up at noon with Vice-Admiral Sir Martyn Jerram’s 2nd Battle Squadron (King George V, Ajax, Centurion, Erin, Orion, Monarch, Conqueror, Thunderer) and the attending armored cruisers of Rear-Admiral Arbuthnot’s 1st Cruiser Squadron (Defence, Warrior, Duke Of Edinburgh, Black Prince). As luck would have it, Jerram’s eleven screening destroyers were of the most modern type – M Class – several of which were capable of 37 knots. Once Jerram had rendezvoused, Jellicoe would have a force of 3 battlecruisers, 24 dreadnought battleships, 8 armored cruisers, 14 light cruisers, and 53 destroyers, under his direct command. For those of you “keeping tabs”, Jellicoe sailed without four of his dreadnoughts; HMS Emperor Of India was under refit at Invergordon – Queen Elizabeth was in dry dock at Rosyth – the original Dreadnought was refitting at Devonport – and the newly commissioned 15-inch-gunned Royal Sovereign was left behind, her partially trained crew deemed unready for battle. This was, quite possibly, the largest single battle fleet seen in European waters since the Spanish Armada. And its power to deal out destruction had never been witnessed by any man – living or dead. (Mention has been made of the 1st, 2nd, 4th, and 5th Battle Squadrons of the Grand Fleet. For the curious among you – there was, in fact, a 3rd Battle Squadron of the fleet, but it was detached for service in “The Nore”. The Nore is an area around a sandbank in the Thames Estuary at the confluence of the Medway River and Thames River. The squadron anchored in the deep water channel off HM Dockyard Chatham. The sole purpose of the squadron was to block German access to the English Channel and to defend the Thames Estuary with its’ vast assemblage of merchant shipping. The squadron was composed of the last and most modern class of pre-dreadnought battleships – the King Edward VII Class – HMS King Edward VII, Commonwealth, Dominion, Hindustan, Britannia, Zealandia, Africa, and Hibernia. The ships were old and slow, and frequently referred to as “the wobbly eight” due to their tendency to roll when underway. HMS Dreadnought would join the squadron in June 1916.) HMS King Edward VII – Class commissioned between 1903-1905: 15,585 tons – 18.5 knots – 4x12-inch guns – 4x9.2-inch guns – 10x6-inch guns – 14x1.9-inch guns – 4x18-inch torpedo tubes – belt armor 9 inches. Hipper’s battlecruiser squadron steering north through gathering mists and rising seas – 31 May 1916. The photo was taken from SMS Seydlitz, Derfflinger is just ahead, and Lutzow is leading the line. SMS Moltke and Von der Tann are astern of Seydlitz (out of the picture). By noon, Hipper’s 1st Scouting Group had long ago left Heligoland Island in their wake, clearing the swept channel off Amrum Bank by 09:00. Once clear of the defensive minefields, the light cruisers (each with two or three torpedo boats) had raced ahead and fanned out in search formation. Course was set northwest, then northwest-by-north, as the big cruisers surged through the waves well west of the Horn’s Reef lightship. Hipper, maintaining a steady 19 knots, followed with his torpedo boats screening the seaward flank. The seas had begun to rise a bit, and a misty haze was forming, but the Admiral saw no hint of a storm. The big Panzerkreuzer easily sliced through the long rollers coming down from the northwest, taking one over the bow from time to time. If the mist and haze did not thicken too much, the visibility would still be adequate for convoy-hunting – and Hipper was positively exuberant. The “old buccaneer” was at sea, with the finest squadron in the Hochseeflotte, and he could almost smell the opportunity for action somewhere over the horizon. He stood on the open bridge, sipping his coffee, and commented to his staff assistant, Korvettenkapitan Raeder...”We will be at it, hammer and tongs, by the afternoon.” His squadron consisted of 5 battlecruisers, 6 light cruisers, and 30 torpedo boats -- and in a few more hours, they would arrive at Little Fisher Bank -- their rendezvous point off the Skagerrak. The main body of the Hochseeflotte steering north in support of Hipper’s scouting group. The ship on the left is most likely a dreadnought battleship of the Nassau Class, I Battle Squadron. Some 50 miles to the south, on a parallel course, the light cruisers of the Hochseeflotte’s 4th Scouting Group were spread out as an advance screen, with the main body of the battle fleet following a few miles behind. Vizeadmiral Scheer had linked-up with the II Battle Squadron from the Elbe and was proceeding north at 16 knots in line-ahead formation – passing well west of Horn’s Reef by noon. The flagship’s wireless operators picked up some British transmissions, but their signals were weak and far away, and appeared to be the usual traffic. The seas, though rising, were empty and closing in with patches of mist and haze. Scheer strode onto the bridge wing and trained his binoculars to the east. The distant land was already shrouded in thick mist, and an enemy appearing from the west would find it difficult to range upon his battleships. If the British appeared, their smoke would be blowing downwind, obscuring their targets already partially hidden in that mist. Scheer had at his disposal 16 dreadnought battleships, 6 pre-dreadnought battleships, 6 light cruisers, and 31 torpedo boats – considerably less than the enemy he worried about. SMS Konig Albert was left behind with condenser problems, and the recently commissioned SMS Bayern (15-inch guns) had not finished “working-up” her crew, so she remained behind as well. Ironically, the wind had died-down and was coming from the southwest by 10:00. Around 11:30, five Zeppelins were dispatched to reconnoiter the Skagerrak, Pentland Firth, Peterhead, Sunderland, and Flamborough Head. Unfortunately, visibility remained bad with clouds down to 1,000 feet and heavy patches of mist below that. For all they could see, The German airships might as well have stayed at Tondern. Around 14:00 that afternoon, the vanguards of both fleets were only about 120 miles apart – and neither fleet commander had encountered an enemy, nor did they have any reason to suspect their enemy was even at sea. The German airships had been unable to provide any advance reconnaissance, and all their carefully placed submarine ambushes had failed. Only one German submarine in the Pentland Firth sent a sighting report, but the enemy cruiser was on the north leg of a zig-zag course. The enemy’s course was reported as north – so Scheer disregarded the message. And Jellicoe’s only communication had placed the German flagship in the Jade Estuary just three hours before. So, quite unknowingly, each admiral was about to fall into a trap set by the other. The Grand Fleet At Sea NAVAL TACTICS IN THE GREAT WAR ERA With the two opposing fleets bearing down upon one another, the narrative is about to get into the battle and the tactical maneuvering of the various squadrons. Some of you may be well acquainted with the concepts and terminology, while others may not. Without getting into complicated and lengthy technical explanations – perhaps a basic overview of a few maneuvers will suffice. The art of handling and maneuvering large fleets of battleships was governed by a few basic concepts that had changed little since Admiral Nelson’s day. It may come as a surprise to learn the sailing ships-of-the-line at Trafalgar were maneuvered in much the same way as the dreadnought monsters at Jutland. SAILING IN COLUMNS – LINE AHEAD Column formation Battleships were kept together in tight, orderly, formations so their massed firepower could be employed efficiently. When moving a fleet from one place to another, this was often accomplished by sailing in a compact formation of parallel columns. (Sailing formation for the Grand Fleet was six parallel columns abreast -- each column being a Battleship Division of four ships.) The tight formation made simple course changes relatively easy, while shortening the line of sight between ships simplified the passing of flag signals necessary to maintain command and control. In 1916, several methods of communication between ships was available. Wireless telegraphy (primitive form of radio) used Morse Code and could be encoded for secrecy – but transmitters had their limitations, and decoding signals could be cumbersome. Most often, signal flags or “blinker lamps” were used. In the formation pictured above, the flagship would be at the head of the center column, and signal flags could be seen and easily “repeated” (relayed) between the ships – though this process could take some time with a large fleet. Usually, a signal was “received” and “repeated” to another ship before it could be “acknowledged”. Once all ships in the formation “acknowledged” the flag signal, the flagship would haul down the flags – and this was known as the signal to “execute” whatever maneuver had been ordered. This ensured everyone preformed the desired maneuver at the same time. Sailing in a formation of columns ensured all ships received signals and considerably reduced the amount of time involved. DEPLOYMENT FROM COLUMN TO BATTLE LINE Deployment from columns Though suitable for sailing, the “column formation” was completely unsuited to battle. Like battle fleets of olden days, modern battle fleets fought in a single “line-ahead” formation, strung out “tip to tail” in a long battle line. This was necessary to bring all their broadside guns to bear on an enemy. If your ship was in the “second” column, your field of fire would be blocked by ships in the “first” column. Therefore, before battle was joined, the capital ships of a fleet would, if possible, “deploy” into a single column – “the battle line”. In the image above, you can see three columns of ships forming into a single battle line. Please understand the distance between ships in a column, and between the columns themselves, has been much reduced in order to fit everything into the picture. The actual distance between each ship in a column should be, roughly, one and a half ship lengths (about 300 yards). The distance between each column would equal the length of an entire column (about 1,700 yards, or approximately 1 mile). If distances were not properly estimated, too little distance between ships and columns would result in serious collisions. This type of maneuver is another reason ship designers worked hard to produce warships with tight turning circles. The picture should adequately explain the maneuver. Deploying into line of battle was all-important. A fleet surprised by an enemy while still in sailing formation could easily become disorganized, heavily damaged before it could regroup, and possibly even destroyed. What’s more, an Admiral must be able to form a line of battle that will put him in a tactically advantageous position relative to the enemy. In order to do this, the C.-in-C. must know the distance to the enemy fleet, the bearing (direction) from which they will appear, the heading (course) of the enemy fleet, and the enemy’s estimated speed. The sole purpose of friendly scouting forces (battlecruisers and cruisers), was to find the enemy and report this information in sufficient time for the C.-in-C. to make use of it. At the same time, scouting forces would attempt to deny the same information to an enemy's scouting forces. FIGHTING IN BROADSIDE LINE OF BATTLE Broadside Line Of battle In the era of sailing ships-of-the-line, battles were generally fought “broadside-to-broadside”. Though Admiral Nelson introduced some innovation into tactical ship-handling during the “approach to battle”, it was, in the end, necessary to lay your battleship alongside that of the enemy. Ships-of-the-line carried all their guns “en broadside” – so it was the only way to apply your firepower. The modern dreadnoughts loose in the North Sea were, “technologically”, far improved over Nelson’s HMS Victory. But “tactically”, there was hardly any difference. Dreadnoughts had the ability to fire ahead or astern, usually with one or two main battery turrets, but it was still necessary to engage targets on the broadside to employ full firepower. The picture above clearly demonstrates the principle of “line-ahead broadside fire”. Each ship engages its opposite number, thereby inflicting damage on as many ships as possible, while discouraging their opponents from concentrating fire on a single ship. I should point out the two battle lines in the game are very close together – for demonstration purposes. At Jutland, they would have been separated by five to ten miles. CROSSING THE “T” 009_ Crossing the “T” This is the “classic” naval maneuver, coveted by all fleet commanders throughout history, and so rarely achieved. In the picture, the top fleet is steaming from right to left across the bows of the enemy. They are able to bring all their guns to bear on the target off their port broadside. At least two warships, perhaps three, will sink or severely maul the leading enemy. While the remaining enemy ships will be taken under fire as they approach. The approaching enemy fleet can only, at best, return fire with half (or less) of their guns against any one target. (Again, the battle range could be five to ten miles.) In the reality of battle, the lead enemy ship faces swift and certain destruction. The following two or three enemy ships face highly probable destruction. This is the primary reason the German naval architects went to such lengths to provide wide and clear arcs of fire for their main battery guns. Needless to say, if you are the hapless Admiral caught in this trap, your only option is to get out of it any way you can – and as quickly as possible. (There are only three successful historic instances of modern dreadnoughts achieving this maneuver: (1) Tsushima – 1905, (2) Jutland – 1916, and (3) Leyte Gulf – 1944. At Jutland, Jellicoe would achieve this twice in one hour, but on both occasions Scheer managed to disengage, thereby avoiding a decisive action.) INITIAL CONTACT Light cruiser SMS Elbing, westernmost cruiser on the advance scouting line of the 1st Scouting Group, steaming at high speed to investigate an unknown vessel. Off the coast of Jutland on the afternoon of 31 May 1916, the weather seemed to improve, somewhat. A light north-westerly breeze was blowing strength 3, with cloudy skies and a heavy, misty haze in the distance. But the trained eye could see patches of fog beginning to form as the afternoon wore on. Close onto 15:00, the light cruiser SMS Elbing, at the west end of Hipper’s cruiser screen, sighted a small merchant steamer. Two of her accompanying torpedo boats, B-109 and B-110, were signaled to investigate. As they approached what proved to be the neutral Danish steamer N.J. Fjord, the small freighter immediately hove-to and nervously began to let off steam from her boilers. SMS Elbing, a Pillau Class light cruiser -- commissioned September 1915. Note the long, thin hull and the three funnels. Her nine to one length-to-width ration gives her the length to accommodate six coal-fired and four oil-fired boilers. Her three funnels indicate great speed (more funnels means more boilers = great speed). Beautiful model courtesy of @Barroco Hispano. SMS Elbing – 4,390 tons – 27.5 knots – 8x5.9-inch guns – 2x3.5-inch guns – 2x19.7-inch torpedo tubes – 120 mines. Here you see a detailed close-up. Her main battery of 5.9-inch guns are mounted in open-backed shields with two on the forecastle deck, two on either beam amidships, and two more aft on the quarter deck. This side-by-side, parallel arrangement is interesting, but not uncommon in those days. On the fantail deck, you can see two tracks for laying mines. The mines were stored inside a magazine chamber in the superstructure beneath the two aft gun mounts. This system allowed them to deploy their full load fairly rapidly and with acceptable precision. Here you see SMS Elbing moored quayside. Note the round armored conning tower just aft of the forward gun mounts. It is only connected to the bridge structure by a light deck one level above the forecastle deck. This effectively leaves the bridge area unarmored, but the control and range-finding positions inside the conning tower are protected with 3-inch, face-hardened, Krupp Steel plates. Amidships you can see a single torpedo tube mounted on either beam. Elbing was given a heavy gun armament so she could perform her primary scouting and mine-laying duties. The two torpedo tubes were provided purely for moments of opportunity. This highly detailed model gives you an excellent view of how much firepower can be packed into a small hull, and German light cruisers were known to be fast and nimble, with a very sharp bite. At almost the same time, off to the west, when Beatty’s Battlecruiser Fleet altered course north to rendezvous with the Grand Fleet, Commodore Alexander-Sinclair did not immediately follow. His 1st Light Cruiser Squadron, on the eastern wing of the reconnaissance line, had also spotted the small, innocuous, steamer – stopped, with two warships close by. Sinclair immediately swung the light cruisers Galatea and Phaeton toward the steamer – swiftly followed by the light cruisers Inconstant and Cordelia, slightly to the south. At 15:20 Galatea sent off a wireless report...“Enemy in sight – two cruisers”, having mistaken the German torpedo boats for light cruisers. Five minutes later, B-109 sent out a signal alerting Hipper to the presence of enemy light forces, and gave their location, heading, and estimated speed. B-109 and B-110 rang for full speed and swung toward the enemy. Around 15:28, at 10,000 yards, B-109 opened fire. Galatea immediately replied, whereupon, the torpedo boats retired toward the approaching Elbing. Elbing engaged the British as their numbers rose to four, and then seven light cruisers. Soon, SMS Frankfurt and Pillau arrived and they pursued the British cruisers as they fell back to the west. With the British clearly in greater force, but falling back -- the Germans suspected a trap – but Elbing continued to engage, and obtained a 5.9-inch hit beneath Galatea’s bridge at extreme range. The Hochseeflotte had drawn “first blood” on what would prove to be a bloodier day than anyone had imagined. The van of the Battlecruiser Fleet – left to right -- HMS Princess Royal, Lion, and Tiger – 31 May 1916. Around 15:25, Galatea reported...”Sighted large smoke – possibly a fleet – ENE (my position)”. This was most likely the smoke of the German 2nd Scouting Group working up speed to join the pursuit. But the report created quite a stir in the Battlecruiser Fleet -- still steering north and only aware of a minor skirmish in their rear. Suddenly, aboard the flagship, HMS Lion – “the game was afoot”. Beatty immediately signaled for full speed and altered course to ENE, to close Galatea’s position. (Some officers on the battlecruisers were a bit “put out” with the call to action – it was, after all, nearly “tea time”.) Unfortunately, Rear-Admiral Evan-Thomas, aboard HMS Barham, did not get the signal “to execute”. (Don’t forget – Evan-Thomas came from the Grand Fleet, where officers were trained to wait for “the order of execution” before making course changes. Beatty had no such standing orders, nor did he brief Evan-Thomas to “follow the battlecruisers”, or to use his own initiative in the absence of orders.) The signal flags were flying almost in line with the ships, and nearly impossible to read through the funnel smoke from that angle – especially from five miles astern. Finally, Evan-Thomas watched Beatty careering-off on his own, and at 15:40 decided to alter course to follow – on his own initiative. But due to the signaling error, there was a time-lapse – and instead of five miles astern -- 5th Battle Squadron was now 10 miles astern. In addition, Beatty’s increase to full speed would outrun the 24-knot battleships and leave them even further behind at a critical moment. This was clear proof Beatty lacked sufficient experience in handling more than a single squadron of warships. During the early afternoon, Beatty had the opportunity to concentrate his forces as he neared the possible point of contact -- and he had no good reason not to do so – but he did not. As a result, the four Queen Elizabeth Class battleships -- the fastest and most heavily armed in the world – were left behind. Dividing his forces had serious consequences, costing the British what would have been an overwhelming advantage in ships and firepower during the first half-hour of the coming battle. Clearly, Beatty did not understand the basic military principle of “concentration of force”. Having hoisted his flag signal, and charged off toward the sound of the guns, he never thought to check on the whereabouts of his heavy battleship support. As Beatty moved his battlecruisers to cut off the suspected German forces from their bases, he ordered HMS Engadine to heave-to and launch a floatplane to get more information on the size, composition, and location of the enemy. This was the first instance of an aircraft carried aboard a ship being used for reconnaissance in naval combat. Engadine’s floatplane did locate a few German light cruisers, and did come under anti-aircraft fire, but the plane’s transmitter failed and no wireless reports could be sent. (So much for WW I aircraft at sea.) SMS Lutzow (flagship - 1st Scouting Group) working up speed as she steers NNW to support the German light forces with SMS Elbing. SMS Lutzow and the Panzerkreuzer of the 1st Scouting Group were approximately 25 miles ESE of the skirmish in progress. The signal from Elbing came in at 15:26, and Vizeadmiral Hipper immediately swung his ships to a NNW heading and increased to 23 knots. It may have been a bit of the “cavalryman” in him, but the admiral could be relied upon to support his light forces if they became engaged. And Hipper knew the British light cruisers would not be off the Skagerrak all by themselves. There might be a convoy nearby – or, perhaps, bigger game. If the enemy was at sea, it was his duty to find them and report to the main body. At 15:29, Kapitan Harder ordered Lutzow cleared for action and the klaxons called the men to their battle stations. Suddenly, the upper decks were emptied, the engine room reported all boilers on line, and the main battery Turret Captains reported gunnery stations “closed-up”. A few minutes later, Hipper sent out his first sighting report...”Several smoke clouds – enemy – grid 164y”. (The Germans did not waste time with latitude and longitude – they had very efficiently divided the North Sea into numbered and lettered grid squares.) At 15:32 Hipper signaled for 25 knots, intending to give chase to the enemy light cruisers, but two minutes later, his Zeiss glasses picked out the shape of heavy tripod masts rising over the horizon. Hipper, with the ever-present cigar clenched in the corner of his mouth, spoke over his shoulder in his thick Bavarian accent...”Raeder, I’ll eat my broomstick if that isn’t Beatty!” (Chief of Staff Korvettenkapitan Erich Raeder would be a Grand Admiral in a later war.) Hipper, Raeder, and Kapitan Harder watched as the 2nd Battlecruiser Squadron (HMS Indefatigable and New Zealand) climbed over the western horizon – on a southeasterly course. And they were quickly joined by the 1st Battlecruiser Squadron (HMS Lion, Princess Royal, Queen Mary, and Tiger). The British did not sight the German capital ships for another three minutes, most likely because their light gray paint scheme (officially named “Fehgrau”) blended into the thickening mist to the east. But if he was surprised to find the German battlecruisers at sea – Beatty did not show it. He altered to an easterly and then southeasterly course to gain a position between Hipper and his line of retreat to Horn’s Reef. As Lion’s bow swung to starboard, several ships astern, the Sub-Lieutenants on HMS New Zealand’s bridge reported the movement to Captain John Green, who simply replied...”Conform to flagship’s maneuver.” No signals had been passed and none were needed. Green nodded to the Watch Officer, then ducked into his day cabin at the rear of the bridge. When he came out a few moments later, he was wearing a black and white “grass skirt” (water rushes) strapped on over his crisp Royal Navy uniform. An old Maori Chieftain had presented it to him when they departed Auckland, with the admonition that no harm would come to the ship if he wore the skirt into battle. Word quickly passed round the ship and a cheer went up as the Captain ordered them to “clear for action”. Beatty apparently thought he had caught the German battlecruisers out – and alone. After the near disgrace at Dogger Bank last year, he would have been eager to avenge his reputation. With the powerful 5th Battle Squadron and the Battlecruiser Fleet – he out-numbered them two-to-one. No doubt he thought he’d “bag the lot”. Beatty swung his battlecruisers to engage Hipper with all the relish he exhibited on the hunting field when he set his horse at a high fence. But Beatty knew virtually nothing about German warship design and construction. He would pay a terrible price for his rash ignorance. Korvettenkapitan Paschen, Lutzow’s Gunnery Control Officer, was moving in and out of the conning tower, the better to judge the approach angles while keeping an eye on the range. At 16 miles, he could clearly identify the four battleships of the 5th Battle Squadron – trailing far behind the British battlecruisers. Hipper once again signaled the Flottenchef...”Enemy – battlecruisers – battleships – am engaging.” He reduced speed to 18 knots and closed-up his ships, preparing to offer battle on an easterly heading – not his choice, but it would match Beatty’s course. And though out-numbered, and out-gunned (the four Queen Elizabeth’s 15-inch guns) he would challenge his old adversary. As the German battlecruisers prepared to engage, the British ships turned onto a SE course and began forming a line of battle, Lion and the 1st Battlecruiser Squadron leading. Observing Beatty’s course change, Hipper swung his squadron through 180 degrees, turning sharply towards the enemy to close the range. He ordered 26 knots and charged ahead to cut Beatty off before he could block the route to Horn’s Reef. If he pressured the van of Beatty’s line, he could force them to the south. Not only was Hipper ready to fight, he fully intended to do so at decisive range. And in the process, he would lure Beatty south toward Scheer’s battle fleet. SMS Seydlitz, “Tactical #3” in Hipper’s battle line, increases speed as she sweeps past the torpedo boat V-8. She is close on the heels of Lutzow and Derfflinger as they close with Beatty’s battlecruisers. By 15:39, Hipper’s contact reports, and those of Admiral Boedicker’s 2nd Scouting Group, had been intercepted by Scheer’s flagship – some 40 miles to the south. It only took a few minutes with a chart to see Hipper was about to engage the British battlecruisers on a SE course – which would lead them directly onto the guns of the Hochseeflotte. Scheer ordered the main body to increase to “All Speed” and to come to “Battle Readiness” (just a step below “battle stations”). Gunnery Fire Control Officer, Korvettenkapitan George Hase, had taken his station in the upper compartment of SMS Derfflinger’s conning tower -- she was second in the battlecruiser line. With his limited view through the rangefinder, he was unaware the British battlecruisers were closing on them – until 15:40 – when one of them filled his sights… “Big ships. Black monsters; six tall, broad-beamed giants steaming in two columns…” He watched as Beatty’s ships turned SE on a converging course and began rattling instructions to the Turret Captains… ”Heavy guns armor-piercing shell – target second battlecruiser from left (Princess Royal) – 102 degrees – ship making 26 knots – course ESE – 17,000 – target has two masts – two funnels – narrow funnel close to foremast – Deflection 19 left – rate 100 minus – 16,400 !” Still, there was no order from the flagship to open fire… Aboard Lutzow, Hipper watched the enemy line carefully, aware the British guns were bigger, with longer range. He adjusted his course slightly more to the SE to open his firing arcs and blow the funnel smoke over the disengaged port beam. The big cruisers pounded through the long rollers, funnel smoke gushing into the misty sky – and still he waited – for what seemed like hours instead of minutes. But the British did not fire. The range to target was repeated to him from the fore-top as the battle lines closed – and when it reached 15,000 yards, Hipper knew he was well within the range of his 11-inch-gun ships. It was 15:48. He turned to Kapitan Harder...”You may open fire…” The signal “DJ” shot up the halyards and Lutzow’s guns crashed out, followed in mere seconds by the rest of the Panzerkreuzer. The ship was hammered by an ear-splitting roar and the sound rumbled like thunder as the rest of the battlecruisers joined in. Fire shot from the muzzles of the giant rifles and smoke clouds the size of cathedrals rolled out of the barrels. The entire squadron fired almost simultaneously – one long, ripple of fire and smoke – that surely must have startled the British. Kapitan Harder raised his glasses and watched the fall of shot around Lion – two over and two short – a nice, tight, “straddle” with the first salvo. (For the remainder of the battle, Harder would “con” the big battlecruiser from the open bridge wings. He found the armored conning tower too confining, with an extremely limited view of the battle. This was an opinion shared by many of the German commanders that day.) Hase, in Derfflinger’s upper conning tower, shouted into his handset...”Shoot!”...and pressed the firing circuit button. The cruiser’s big guns shattered the air -- the concussion assaulting his senses -- and the massive steel tower trembled like a leaf in a wind storm. But he could relax now. The waiting was over. All that was left to do was take the ranges, shout adjustments, and shoot – and shoot – and shoot…... Derfflinger opens fire. NEXT TIME…… THE RUN TO THE SOUTH But – while the battle unfolds --we have some more for you. Since creating game-oriented pictures proved problematic to the story-line, we will take another short tour of the Cuxhaven Dockyards. “Battery Scharnhorst” (center of picture) sits on the east side of the Jade’s deep water channel and provides a defensive cross-fire with Battery Gneisenau (previous chapters) on the west shore. The site was originally occupied by an earthwork shore battery that was expanded into an enclosed fort. The earthen ramparts were backed by brick and masonry walls where heavy cannon were mounted “en barbette” in open carriages (about 1880). As the new main anchorage was constructed, it was decided to protect it and the deep water channel with a modern concrete battery along the lines of the fortresses constructed around Metz. Battery Scharnhorst is an all concrete bunker, replacing the previous rampart walls that had no overhead protection. The thick concrete walls facing the sea were sloped at a 60 degree angle to deflect direct fire from heavy guns, and were further covered by several feet of packed earth to absorb impact energy. The concrete roof was built in two thick layers with six feet of sand sandwiched between them (same theory as a protective coal bunker). In this view of the battery you can see a road entering the bunker complex through a reinforced tunnel mouth. This entrance was used for any foot traffic as well as vehicles. You can also see a rail line running into the bunker, which would bring heavy equipment, spare parts, supplies, and powder and ammunition for the guns. Goods were unloaded from the rail cars and shuttled through the bunker complex with hand-cars on a narrow gauge track. This rear view shows the two entrance tunnels as well as the small exterior entrances to the magazines used for truck traffic and small loads. As you can see, there are only four openings into the bunker complex, two of which are rather small. And there are no exterior buildings or other infrastructure elements that might be destroyed during battle. Everything necessary to the operation of the bunker is contained within its protective walls. Like a warship, the powder and shell handling rooms are directly behind each gun turret and connected to the gun houses by shell hoists. Accommodations for the gun crews and bunker staff are located in rooms along the interior rear walls, and there are dynamo rooms, food and water storage, messing arrangements, offices, and repair shops scattered throughout the complex. The roof of the bunker has virtually nothing on it. There are, of course, the five gun turrets – and a large, square, air intake shaft with a thick steel grate to prevent shells from entering. Just behind the intake shaft are three duct pipes to exhaust fumes from inside the bunker (usually cordite smoke that leaks into the structure from the turrets). Again, like a warship, the bunker operates on the “forced draught” principle. The air intake fans draw air into the bunker and create a “positive” pressure. The fume extractors remove the air around the guns, and from specific handling compartments adjacent to them. You can see earth has been banked-up along the front edges of the bunker and some vegetation has been allowed to grow. The vegetation will prevent erosion of the protective earthen bank, while also making the bunker a difficult target. In an age when air reconnaissance was in its infancy, the bunker would have to be ranged upon by warship rangefinders – at sea level. The vegetation would act as natural camouflage – or – could be removed in time of war to clear the field of fire. This is a close-up of the gun turrets atop the bunker. The concrete bunker complex with revolving turrets was inspired by Fort Copacabana, built between 1908 and 1914 to guard the entrance to Rio de Janeiro Bay, Brazil. The fort was taken out of service in 1975 and is, today, a very well-preserved national monument. The gun turret is something of a cross between a Krupp model CD/4-1906 fortress turret and a French Schneider Works fortification turret. The gun tubes closely resemble the Krupp model 1906 SK-L/40 12 inch gun. Note the thick concrete and steel reinforcing ring placed around the turret base to prevent shell penetration and possible jamming. The fortress gun model was graciously provided by @Barroco Hispano. This is a close-up view of the rear area, where most of the unusual detail can be seen. The bunker was created by raising the terrain, and sculpting it to shape using the “road-piece-plop” method. (Very simple – but very effective.) The raised areas were then covered using the “Paeng” Grunge Concrete pieces to create the bunker – especially the Paeng pieces with overhanging pieces. Some of the Paeng lots were re-lotted to handle the gun turrets, air shafts, exhaust ducts, security lamp posts, and those with sailors. The road and rail entrances are from the “WMP” Doc Rorlach Tunnel pack – as suggested by “Mattb325” – and graciously brought out of temporary “retirement” for me by the ever-dedicated @Tyberius06 (MANY thanks). The tunnels were plopped in recesses in the bunker area, then covered over with the overhanging Paeng pieces. A bit tricky, but far better than anything else I tried. The exterior entrances to the magazines are the “PEG SNM Series” small ammo bunkers. They were modified so that the bunker prop overhung the rear of the lot. That allowed me to plop them “into” the raised side of the bunker so that only the entrance was visible. I then used Paeng overhanging pieces to fill in the concrete wall effect. The following three pictures are landscape details. I used “Heblem Sands” to indicate sandy spots here and there as well as using them to cover sloping sides of hills. I used the Heblem “loose gravel” texture in many places to show valleys or depressions in the hills. You have to be very careful when texturing slopes and hills. Using a texture (sand) or ground cover on a slope tends to obliterate it – and the sloping effect simply disappears into the “clutter”. Where possible, I used my custom made 1x1 “tree filler” lots (to save time). And I have used virtually every possible ground cover, bush, or tree MMP in the STEX Catalog to paint the terrain. It is an extremely tedious exercise to fill in the landscape in this manner – but I think it produces an excellent level of realism. MANY THANKS to @Barroco Hispano for his generosity and beautiful warship models. SPECIAL THANKS to my friend and partner, @AP, for his talents, meticulous models, colorful imagination, 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 https://community.simtropolis.com/forums/topic/761469-simtropolis-shipyard/?tab=comments#comment-1766496

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”. https://i.imgur.com/spzTJtJ.jpg[/img 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 https://community.simtropolis.com/forums/topic/761469-simtropolis-shipyard/?tab=comments#comment-1766496

Forward gun turret of SMS Goeben, at anchor in the Bosporus -- circa 1914. IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: CUXHAVEN By: Dreadnought & AP Chapter 20: PURSUIT OF THE GOEBEN SMS Goeben – circa 1914: 22,979 tons – 27.5 knots – 10x11-inch guns – 12x5.9-inch guns – 4x19.7-inch torpedo tubes – belt armor 11 inches. The early afternoon of 28 June 1914, found SMS Goeben and her consort, the light cruiser Breslau, riding at anchor on the placid Mediterranean waters off Haifa. Normal shipboard routine prevailed, with fresh provisions scheduled to be brought aboard, while the battlecruiser’s officers prepared to go ashore to dinner invitations extended by the rich and important among Haifa’s citizenry. And then a steam launch from shore pulled alongside. The German Naval Attache from the consulate came aboard to deliver word that Archduke Franz Ferdinand, heir to the Austrian throne, had been assassinated. The attache also informed Konteradmiral Wilhelm Souchon that Austria, having lost the “heir-presumptive”, was likely to take extreme measures. Souchon instantly realized the political gravity of the situation, as well as the strategic and tactical dangers of the Mediterranean. All neutral ports could soon be closed to his tiny squadron or – at best – very strict about the rules of neutrality. A large French Fleet controlled the western half of the Mediterranean – but it was mostly pre-dreadnought battleships (only one dreadnought) – and their chief concern would be to protect the North African troop convoys destined for France. The Italians, with a powerful fleet astride the central Mediterranean, might – or might not – abide by their treaty with Germany and Austria. And the British Mediterranean Fleet (3 battlecruisers and 4 fairly modern armored cruisers) were on the loose – whereabouts unknown. French dreadnought battleship Courbet: 23,100 tons – length 541 feet – 20 knots – coal with oil firing – 12x12-inch guns – 22x5.5-inch guns – 4x18-inch torpedo tubes – belt armor 10.75 inches. Courbet was flagship of the main French fleet, concentrated in the Mediterranean and based out of Toulon. She was also the ONLY dreadnought in French service when war broke out. Her design was reminiscent of HMS Dreadnought, but was much closer in pattern to the Brazilian Minas Geraes Class battleships with wing turrets abreast the funnels. However, Courbet’s pair of main battery turrets fore and aft were superimposed at a time when the British and Germans were only just beginning to contemplate such arrangements. The armor belt was respectable, though hardly impregnable to German 11-inch rifles, while her slow speed would have made her incapable of catching Goeben. The French did have about 15 or 20 pre-dreadnought battleships in the Toulon fleet -- depending upon how you rated them -- but they were old and obsolete. Some ships only mounted two main battery guns in single turrets. Model Courtesy of "Barroco Hispano". Souchon only knew two things for certain – Goeben was in dire need of boiler repairs – and the Austrian ports in the Adriatic Sea were his only safe haven. Some 9,500 water-tubes had already been shipped to Pola, so Souchon cabled Berlin to arrange for a work gang from Blohm & Voss to be sent as well. By 15:00, the German cruisers had weighed and were disappearing toward the western horizon. The journey was uneventful, and unusual, in that no foreign warships were sighted. SMS Breslau was detached to Durazzo, to coal ship and take on provisions, and Goeben proceeded to Pola, arriving on 10 July. The battlecruiser moved into a repair basin within hours, and the Blohm & Voss mechanics went to work. After replacing 4,460 boiler tubes, Goeben moved to the Austrian gunnery ranges at nearby Pirano on 23 July. For four days, she practiced gunnery in the morning and continued boiler repairs in the afternoon and evening. SMS Goeben took on coal from 27-30 July in Trieste, then steamed south to rendezvous with SMS Breslau off Brindisi on 1 August. The two cruisers set course for the Sicilian port of Messina where they were to meet the steamer General. While transiting the Ionian Sea, at 00:52 on 2 August, Goeben received a wireless message declaring war mobilization. By 14:40 that afternoon, Goeben and Breslau anchored in Messina Roads and began to coal ship. Later that evening, General came alongside both warships to transfer stores and provisions, while the peacetime paraphernalia (wooden furniture, wooden paneling, etc.) was removed from both cruisers. Around 01:00 on 3 August, the German squadron cleared Messina and steamed north around Sicily on a westerly course. It was Souchon’s intention to position his ships for a strike against the French North African ports of Bone and Philippeville -- in the event war was declared. SMS Breslau – Magdeburg Class light cruiser: 4,564 tons – 27.5 knots – 12x4.1-inch guns – 120 mines – 2x19.7-inch torpedo tubes – belt armor 2.5 inches. In not-so-far-away Malta, the battlecruiser HMS Indefatigable (flagship of the Mediterranean Fleet) rode at anchor in Valetta harbor. Flying from her foremast peak was the flag of Admiral Sir Archibald Berkeley Milne – “C.-in-C.”, Mediterranean. With war looming, he must have had a somewhat sarcastic laugh at the idea of his “little fleet” – 3 battlecruisers and 4 armored cruisers. It was a far cry from the eight dreadnought battleships Churchill had promised when he was sent out to assume command. With a German battlecruiser on the loose in the Mediterranean, and three Austrian dreadnoughts in the Adriatic, eight dreadnought battleships might have been able to do the job – but Admiral Milne was hardly a creative thinker. Sir Archibald was what was known as a “social” officer – he owed his high rank and position to influential friends -- King Edward VII and Queen Alexandra. He had served a tour of duty as “Flag-Officer Royal Yachts” and had become quite close with their Majesties. (Edward took great pleasure in referring to the admiral as “Arky-Barky”.) Obviously, a pleasant enough drinking companion, it was unlikely a slightly dull, slack, and ultra-snobbish man would be suited to swiftly changing strategic and tactical situations. Two of the battlecruisers in the Mediterranean Fleet (HMS Inflexible and Indomitable) were of the Invincible Class: 17,408 tons -- 25.5 knots – 8x12-inch guns – 16x4-inch guns – 5x18-inch torpedo tubes – belt armor 6 inches. HMS Indefatigable Milne’s third battlecruiser: 18,500 tons – 25 knots – 8x12-inch guns – 16x4-inch guns – 2x17.7-inch torpedo tubes – belt armor 6 inches. Note the “stretched” area between the first and third funnels in this “second generation” battlecruiser. To go along with the old photographs, I offer two views of HMS Inflexible – Invincible Class. Here you see her lying just offshore, tied-up at “battleship buoys”. Note the two green (starboard) channel buoys marking the edge of the shallows. The below-water shallows have been textured with a Poseidon Mod terrain brush. Below is a detail shot of this beautiful model. The “ladder-like” objects on the deck are gangways -- they are rigged over the side when in port and resemble a “staircase”. The channel markers and Battleship buoys are by “AP”, and this finely detailed warship is courtesy of @Barroco Hispano. Admiral Milne’s second in command was Rear-Admiral Sir Ernest Troubridge, flying his flag in the armored cruiser Defence. He came from a long line of Royal Navy officers -- descended from Thomas Troubridge, one of Nelson’s “Band Of Brothers” at Trafalgar. He was well-thought-of, but reputedly did not have much “on the ball”. Troubridge’s “Flag-captain” was a gunnery officer named Fawcett Wray. (The rear-admiral did the “strategic thinking” while his “Flag-captain” handled the day-to-day business of administering the squadron and offering advice.) Wray was well-known as a supporter of Admiral Lord Charles Beresford, a man in opposition to all Jackie Fisher reforms. Those that knew Wray would also have said he had…” a titanic arrogance...and was much too pleased with himself”. These three men would figure prominently in the drama about to unfold in the Mediterranean – and they were pitted against a German admiral known to be efficient, logical, clever, and decisive. HMS Defence – Minotaur Class: 14,600 tons – 23 knots – 4x9.2-inch guns – 10x7.5-inch guns – 5x18-inch torpedo tubes – belt armor 6 inches. Flagship of Rear Admiral Ernest Troubridge, commanding 1st Cruiser Squadron, Mediterranean Fleet. HMS Warrior: 12,590 tons – 23 knots – 6x9.2-inch guns – 4x7.5-inch guns – 3x18-inch torpedo tubes – belt armor 6 inches. HMS Duke Of Edinburgh HMS Black Prince: 12,590 tons – 23 knots – 6x9.2-inch guns – 10x6-inch guns – 3x18-inch torpedo tubes – belt armor 6 inches. On 30 July, Milne received an Admiralty telegram – the official “War Warning” communication. From the wording of the lengthy message it was clear the men sitting behind big desks in London were trying to cover every possibility – and their own back-sides…... “...first task to aid French in transportation of their African army to France by covering, and, if possible, bringing to action individual fast German ships, particularly Goeben, who may interfere with that transportation…...Do not at this stage be brought to action against superior forces, except in combination with the French as part of a general battle.” The one, crystal-clear, point was to assist the French in getting their troop convoys from North Africa to France. Presumably, Milne was to act in cooperation with the French Mediterranean Fleet (constituting a “superior force”) to engage the small German squadron – should they appear – or possibly, even the Austrians. The telegram then confuses the issue by telling him “if possible” to engage “individual fast German ships” – but NOT to engage “superior forces”. This begs the question – what “superior force” were they talking about? Did they mean the Austrian battle line – but forgot to clarify? Or did they consider one German battlecruiser a “superior force”? Was it acceptable for Milne to engage Goeben with two battlecruisers – but not one? You see the problem, here. To a man like Milne, this sort of communication would leave him riddled with doubt and indecision. To make matters worse, dithering at the British Foreign Office forbid Milne any sort of prior coordination with the French. The British diplomats were playing their cards close to the vest. By not having “military talks” with the French, the British had not implied any certain course of action – and they had not, in fact, decided on neutrality or war. (This was a classic example of Britain’s diplomatic policy of “splendid isolation” at work. It implied an “alliance”, while actually keeping Britain’s options open. Germany invaded Luxembourg and adjacent parts of Belgium at dawn on 2 August -- seizing vital railroad connections. Only then did Britain issue an ultimatum to Germany.) Even so, Milne was unable to raise the French C.-in-C. by wireless on 31 July, and eventually sent a cruiser to Bizerte on 3 August to communicate with Admiral de Lapeyrere. Only then did he learn France and Germany were already at war, and that Britain had delivered an ultimatum. By now, British Naval Intelligence had learned Goeben and Breslau were coaling at Messina. (Being a fairly common port-of-call, Messina would have had a British Consulate in residence. A very useful source of information.) The Admiralty War Staff concluded, for no apparent reason, the German ships would sail west. Not to attack the French troop ships -- but to break out of the Mediterranean through the Straits of Gibraltar to prey on unprotected British shipping! A patrol was immediately set up from Gibraltar to cover the straits. Milne (to his credit) had previously positioned the battlecruisers HMS Indomitable and Inflexible in the Strait of Otranto (at the mouth of the Adriatic Sea) to ensure Goeben could not return to Pola, or link up with a sortie by the Austrian dreadnoughts. But the Admiralty ordered the two ships (at 20:30 on 3 August) to proceed to Gibraltar at high speed to intercept the German squadron when it approached the straits. SMS Goeben opens fire on Philippevile, while Breslau alters course to proceed to Bone for the same purpose. In clear weather and late summer sunshine, SMS Goeben and Breslau steered west across the Tyrrhenian Sea before altering course to the southwest. Admiral Souchon adjusted his speed to arrive off Philippeville and Bone just after sunrise. Around 18:30 a coded wireless message brought word that Germany and France were, in fact, at war – while the British ultimatum would expire at midnight 4 August, and a state of war between Britain and Germany would then exist. Around 20:00, a further coded wireless came through – this one instructing Souchon to take his squadron to Constantinople. Apparently, there had been some sort of political arrangement -- but Admiral Souchon was determined to carry out his strike against the French before making for Turkey. (Souchon was not about to deprive himself of what might be his only opportunity to strike the enemy.) As the two warships steamed through the soft Mediterranean night a “war watch” was set – and for the first time – it was not a drill. At 05:00 on 4 August, the German crews were shaken out of their bunks and hammocks by the alarm klaxon and ordered to “clear ship for battle”. A few minutes later, SMS Breslau was detached to make a high-speed run to Bone, where she would turn her 4.1-inch guns on the port. At 06:08 SMS Goeben opened fire on the Philippevile docks, warehouses, and cranes with her 5.9-inch guns and lobbed 36 rounds into the harbor area. At 06:18 Souchon ceased fire, put the helm hard-a-port, and rang for full speed – pulling out of range before the French could sort themselves out and return fire. Around 06:20 an 8.2-inch howitzer in the old Citadel north of town opened fire for about ten minutes, but all of the rounds fell short. The shellfire had, no doubt, rudely awakened the sleepy little port, but beyond that, it caused little damage. About an hour later, SMS Breslau fell into line astern of Goeben, and Souchon set a north-easterly course – straight into the path of the British battlecruisers sent round from the Strait of Otranto. HMS Indomitable and Inflexible, commanded by Captain Francis Kennedy, sighted smoke one point off the port bow about 10:20 – some 50 miles west of Galita Island. Goeben’s lookouts had sighted and identified the British warships at 10:15 – thanks to their Zeiss optical instruments. By 10:30 Captain Kennedy had a clear view as the big German battlecruiser swept toward them. Technically speaking, neither side was at war with the other, but neither Kennedy nor Souchon knew if their opposite number would respect that point of honor. Closing at a combined speed of roughly 40 knots, they had little time to consider other options and were soon passing each other at high speed, in opposite directions, about 9,000 yards apart. The main batteries were trained fore and aft, but the turret crews were closed-up at “gunnery stations” and ready to fire at a moment’s notice. As might be expected, the courtesy of the “yachting regatta days” was forgotten and no signals or salutes were exchanged. Once past each other, Indomitable and Inflexible made a wide turn and fell in behind the German ships to maintain a shadowing position, while a “sighting report” went to Admiral Milne in Malta – with a request for permission to open fire. It was the beginning of a long, hot, day that turned into a five-hour ordeal as the two squadrons maintained their cruising speeds, and their distance from one another. Captain Kennedy kept station astern of Goeben, with some speed in reserve, in case he was given permission to engage – but it seemed unlikely permission would be granted. The light cruiser HMS Dublin had picked up the first sighting report and soon arrived to join the shadowing mission. She pushed ahead of the British battlecruisers and took station on the port side, about midway between the opposing forces. SMS Breslau immediately crossed Goeben’s wake and took up station on the port side to prevent any surprise torpedo attacks. Around 14:00, Kennedy received a curiously un-coded reply from Milne simply stating that the British ultimatum to Germany did not expire until midnight. It is entirely possible Goeben intercepted the message as well, and Souchon decided to take the initiative. He ordered the entire “war watch” personnel into the stoke holds and bunkers to ensure sufficient coal was moved to the boilers, then rang for “full ahead”. Vast clouds of smoke shot from the battlecruiser’s funnels and trailed for miles astern as she worked up to speed. The shadowing exercise had suddenly transformed into a stern chase to the east. As days go, 4 August was very warm, indeed, and the stokers in the boiler rooms had been hard at work since 06:00 that morning. As Goeben’s speed climbed to 23 knots, then 24 knots, and finally 25 knots – some of them began to pass-out, and had to be carried up on the weather deck for fresh air. But as men fell-out, others stepped in to carry on, while men in the bunkers shifted coal to the stoke-hold chutes to keep them supplied. As Goeben miraculously reached 26 knots, several of the older boiler tubes ruptured and four men were badly scalded, later dying from their burns. SMS Goeben at top speed would have looked like this during the chase. Notice the mass of funnel smoke. HMS Indomitable had attained 26.1 knots on trials, and Inflexible a tad more – but that was six years ago. Both ship’s had engines in need of overhaul, their bottoms had grown foul, and they were short of stokers. The battlecruisers logged close to 24 knots as they charged across the smooth waters of the Mediterranean – with white waves reaching high up their bows – but conditions were no better in the British boiler rooms. At least the German stokers regularly received word from the Admiral that their Herculean efforts were out-stripping their pursuers. Souchon and Kapitan Ackermann pushed the stokers to greater and greater efforts, the steam pressure rising higher and higher, and the boilers reaching dangerous overloads. But Souchon knew he must lose his pursuers if he was to save his ship and take her safely to Constantinople. He could fight the two British battlecruisers – probably sink one – and possibly both of them. But that was a last, desperate, option. If he could out-run his enemies, it would impress his antagonists that his were the fastest ships in the Mediterranean – and that would give him a great morale and tactical advantage. And this he accomplished – thoroughly. Around 15:40 Goeben’s lookouts could no longer see the smoke from the British battlecruisers – they had fallen too far astern. Though the light cruiser HMS Dublin held on stubbornly, she was slowly but surely being outdistanced. At 19:37 she signaled – “Goeben out of sight – following smoke trail – still daylight”. By 21:00 a thick haze had begun to settle in the east and even the smoke trail disappeared. At last, the Germans were lost in the haze and darkness of the vast ocean. Dublin finally put about and went in search of HMS Inflexible and Indomitable. Souchon held his course to the east for another half an hour, reduced speed to 15 knots, then swung north for Messina. At 18:00, while HMS Dublin was doggedly trailing Goeben, yet another Admiralty cable reached Admiral Milne in Malta……”Italian Government declared neutrality. You are to respect neutrality rigidly...should not allow any HM ships to come within six miles of Italian coast”. It is to be understood that in the first few days of the greatest war the world had ever seen – a few mistakes would be made. But the British Foreign Office appears to have been so narrowly focused on Britain’s interests – they overlooked the fact that other nations might have agendas of their own. Italy was allied to Germany and Austria by treaty – but was covetous of Austrian territory around Trieste, and deeply suspicious of Austrian intentions. They were especially wary of the three new Austrian dreadnought battleships (soon to be four). By the terms of the alliance, Italy was not required to go to war. Declaring neutrality on 4 August was a clear signal to the British that the Italians were keeping their options open. But the British Foreign Office did not pick-up on the clue. By strictly respecting a 6-mile limit to Italian territorial waters, the diplomats were trying to avoid provoking Italy into joining Germany -- playing it safe. However, the 6-mile limit meant the Royal Navy could not blockade, or even enter, the Straits of Messina (too narrow). It also gave the German cruisers a “safe haven” – of sorts. Goeben could stay within the “neutral zone” (ignoring Italian neutrality) and eventually out-run any pursuers. In truth, the Italians would rather have seen the British sink Goeben, than let her escape to join the Austrian dreadnoughts. Austrian dreadnoughts Viribus Unitis Class Viribus Unitis (1912) Tegetthoff (1913) Prinz Eugen (1914) Szent Istvan (1915) SMS Tegetthoff – circa 1913: 20,000 tons – 20.5 knots – 12x12-inch guns – 12x5.9-inch guns – 4x21-inch torpedo tubes – belt armor 11 inches. Three ships were in commission at the outbreak of war, another to follow in 1915. SMS Tegetthoff anchored off the Old Basin Mole as she would have appeared in 1914. The Tegetthoff’s were a bit small by comparison, but they were efficient ships – well built and innovative. The triple turrets were designed by the Skoda Armaments Works and were the first such gun houses installed on a warship. Though they would have packed a punch in battle, their small size was indicative of their low speed. Below is a close-up showing the deck layout and the excellent detail on the model provided by Barroco Hispano. The V-25 Class torpedo boats are also his. Meanwhile, very little attention was being paid to the Ottoman Empire – and all of it bad. Turkey had just purchased a Brazilian dreadnought from the Armstrong-Whitworth Shipyards (the Brazilians couldn’t pay for it). Renamed Sultan Osman I, the warship was finishing her sea trials when war broke out. Churchill, acting within British National Defense Law, ordered the vessel seized for the Royal Navy. A Turkish Captain and 500 crewmen were waiting to board the vessel when she was seized right under their noses. (The ship would become HMS Agincourt – with 14x12 inch guns -- the most powerful vessel afloat, at the time.) The British also seized the Turkish dreadnought Resadiye (a modified King George V Class) that was still fitting-out. Needless to say – the Turks were outraged – and “out” close to 30 million Sterling. But the Foreign Office failed to take note of their justifiable wrath – and also overlooked the Ottoman Empire’s close ties with Imperial Germany. The fact that Goeben might enter into this equation does not appear to have crossed their minds. The super-dreadnought Sultan Osman I in the fitting out basin at the Armstrong-Whitworth Shipyards in early 1914. Seized by the British Government under wartime emergency laws, she became HMS Agincourt: 27,850 tons – 22 knots – 14x12-inch guns – 20x6-inch guns – 3x21-inch torpedo tubes – belt armor 9 inches. She holds the record with 7 main battery turrets – all on the centreline. Here you see Sultan Osman I / HMS Agincourt at anchor off a tug station. This gives you a good idea of the power of this dreadnought, and shows the unique arrangement of her main battery turrets. Unlike the Royal Navy, the Armstrong-Whitworth designers had no qualms about using superfiring gun turrets. She served for the duration of the great war and was one of the Grand Fleet’s most powerful capital ships. Below you have a close-up of this beautiful model with all its’ intricate detail – courtesy of @Barroco Hispano. The tugs are by “AP” and the tugboat docks were modified from the “Somy Tug Docks”. At 06:00 on 5 August, Goeben’s lookouts raised Messina off the starboard bow -- with five Italian torpedo boats approaching. The torpedo boats escorted the battlecruiser to an anchorage in Messina Roads and the Deutscher-Afrika Steamship Line SS General came alongside at 07:45 to begin coaling. SMS Goeben had been maneuvering at high speed for the last two days and only had an estimated 600 tons of coal remaining in the bunkers. General was followed by two more steamers that had been rerouted to Messina by the Admiralstab at Souchon’s request. An Italian Naval officer came aboard and very politely, but firmly, informed Kapitan Ackermann he would be allowed the “legal” twenty-four hours under neutrality laws – but no more. He also passed the word that Britain had officially declared war at five minutes past midnight – just six hours ago. SMS Goeben lies at anchor just inside the Messina breakwater. Alongside to starboard is the SS General, preparing to transfer coal to both Goeben and the light cruiser Breslau. But this is not an ordinary coaling operation. As “Neutrals”, the Italians allowed the German warships to remain in port for twenty-four hours – but they would not provide coal, now that the Germans were at war with France, Great Britain, and Russia. As soon as the German ambassador determined the Italians were declaring their neutrality, he wired Berlin, and the Admiralstab placed all German merchant shipping in the Mediterranean under their orders. At Souchon’s request, several vessels were ordered to Messina to assist his squadron. Unfortunately, none of the vessels were colliers – but Souchon would empty the steamer’s coal bunkers to get his warships to sea. The steamers would have had to make for a neutral port anyway – there was little hope of them getting back to Germany. At least this way, they were sacrificed to good purpose. On the SS General’s starboard side is Breslau. Since the ships are in the lee of a breakwater -- and their time was limited -- it was decided to coal from both sides of the steamer. The coal would have to be loaded out of General’s bunkers in large canvas sacks, hoisted across to the warships decks, then dumped down the coal scuttles. The process was much slower than working with bulk coal, but crewmen from the warships were sent aboard General to speed up the work. This shot gives you a close-up view of the detail on the models. SMS Breslau is courtesy of @Barroco Hispano. SMS Goeben and the steamer are by @AP. I’m afraid I had to use “AP’s” model of a Prometheus Class collier with closed hatches – I don’t have a suitable model of an old, worn-out cargo ship. Just in case you’re wondering why the Italians did not go to war beside their treaty allies (Germany and Austria) – they were not obligated by the terms of the treaty. It was a “mutual defense” arrangement – only valid if one of the signatories was attacked by an outside party. When Austria declared war on Serbia, she became the aggressor – thereby nullifying the treaty obligations. Around 09:00, A German Consular official arrived with a coded message from the Naval High Command in Berlin. Souchon’s instructions to proceed to Constantinople had been changed. In accordance with the wishes of His Imperial Majesty, the Mediterranean Squadron was to break out into the Atlantic and try to reach Germany – or -- to proceed to Pola. Admiral von Pohl (commander Hochseeflotte) favored Pola – but after a heated discussion with Admiral von Tirpitz – von Pohl sent a new cable rescinding his orders, ignored the Kaiser’s wishes, and ordered Souchon to Constantinople once again. Within an hour of Goeben’s arrival in Messina, Admiral Milne had been notified, and he began adjusting the deployment of his warships. Milne, assessing the situation, determined Souchon would either head west to the Atlantic, or east to Pola. Milne continued to view the protection of the French troop convoys as his primary task, which meant he had to control the sea lanes between the islands of the central Mediterranean. But in the afternoon of 5 August, London ordered him to blockade the Straits of Otranto so the Austrians couldn’t get out, and the Germans couldn’t get in. It seemed straightforward enough, but the Italian 6-mile neutrality zone left Souchon with a loophole for escape. Needing to guard the French convoys -- and the mouth of the Adriatic -- Milne sent Troubridge’s armored cruisers to the Straits of Otranto. Milne, with two battlecruisers, patrolled north of Messina on the theory Goeben would steam west to attack the troop convoys, or to reach the Atlantic. HMS Indomitable was detached to coal at Bizerte. In an ironic twist, no one thought to inform Milne the French Toulon Squadron was at sea in overwhelming strength, and well placed to protect their own convoys. The Battlecruiser SMS Goeben, with the light cruiser Breslau astern, slips out of Messina harbor to begin a dangerous “cat & mouse” game with the Royal Navy. Having taken aboard 2,100 tons of coal, SMS Goeben and Breslau weighed and slipped out of Messina Roads around 17:00 on 6 August. The cruisers steered east, then swung south through the Straits of Messina (ignoring Italian territorial waters). As they exited the southern end of the straits, the light cruiser HMS Gloucester was sighted. The British cruiser immediately sent a sighting report to Milne, which produced an immediate response – the wrong one. Milne, convinced Goeben would circle round southern Sicily and head west, took his two battlecruisers west around Sicily. The plan was to coal at Malta, then be in position to intercept the Germans off Tunisia if they turned west to threaten the French troop convoys. Unwittingly, Milne’s decision effectively removed the British battlecruisers from the chase. Meanwhile, with HMS Gloucester shadowing, the German squadron altered course to the east, and then northeast. It was Souchon’s intention to deceive the shadowing British warship into believing he was headed for the Adriatic. Gloucester duly reported the new course and speed. The message was intercepted by Troubridge and his cruisers patrolling off the island of Cephalonia, south of Corfu. He immediately altered course to the southwest and spread out in search formation with the intention of intercepting Goeben. Around 22:45, the German ships turned back to the south east and shaped course for Cape Matapan. Admiral Souchon had no way of knowing the confusion he was sowing within the British Fleet, but it would have been a great relief to know the enemy battlecruisers were far to the west and the enemy armored cruisers were steering in the wrong direction. But he was not that lucky. His enemy numbered seven ships big enough to cause trouble. He could not risk engaging more than one British battlecruiser at a time – and did not want to fight even a single ship that could damage Goeben in a part of the world where proper repairs would be nearly impossible. For the same reason, he did not wish to tangle with the enemy armored cruisers – though he held a significant advantage. The Admiral had already pushed his ailing boilers to extreme overload pressures when earlier shaking-off the British battlecruisers – he dared not do that again. And -- Goeben’s coal bunkers were not full – he would have to find a safe place to coal before reaching the Bosporus. But, perhaps worst of all – he was not alone on the dark waters of the Ionian Sea. The light cruiser HMS Gloucester displaced 4,800 tons, carried 6-inch and 4-inch guns, and could make 26 knots if pushed. And Captain Howard Kelly had her well astern of Goeben and Breslau, trailing them through the moonlit night like a bloodhound. He knew his brother, John Kelly, commanding HMS Dublin, was racing to join Troubridge. Based on signal bearings, he figured Dublin would soon cross Goeben’s path, and at 01:30 Dublin did send out a sighting report...”Breslau dead-ahead – am following…” and gave his position. But Breslau was running flat-out – making 27 knots to come up alongside her bigger consort – and Kelly soon lost her in the dark. Brother Howard Kelly was having better luck and shadowed the German ships with skill and dogged tenacity. Earlier in the evening, closer to the Italian coast, Gloucester had been forced to steer straight for the big battlecruiser in order to get between her and the shore so he could keep her in sight in the failing light. Breslau moved in and made threatening passes, and at any moment Goeben could have turned her big guns on the little cruiser and blown her out of the water. The bright moonlight helped Kelly trail the Germans from a greater distance, but it also meant there was nowhere to hide from the long reach of 11-inch guns. All night long, in spite of Goeben’s attempts to jam his transmissions, Kelly regularly reported the speed, course, and position of the battlecruiser. On the other side of the coin was Admiral Troubridge and his armored cruiser squadron. With Milne more or less sidelined -- the 1st Cruiser Squadron was now the only force still in position to take action against the German warships. The Rear-Admiral had been taken in by Goeben’s earlier feint toward the Adriatic, and that had cost him precious hours steaming in the wrong direction. But one of Gloucester’s regular sighting reports was taken in around 23:05, exposing the error, and the British cruisers had swung back to the southeast. A few minutes after midnight (24:11, 7 August), Troubridge swung his cruisers onto a southerly course, hoping to intercept the Germans before they rounded Cape Matapan. For the next four hours, the big armored cruisers sliced through the moonlit waters at nearly top speed – the stokers shoveling and sweating in the dim light of the stokeholds, while their shipmates prepared themselves – each in his on way – for what they expected would be action at dawn. Around 02:30, Troubridge signaled Gloucester and Dublin...”1st Cruiser Squadron position 38-25’N, 20-0’E, course south 20 knots – endeavoring to cross Goeben’s bows 06:00.” Resolute words, indeed -- with no hint of hesitation in challenging Souchon’s cruisers – just as he had been prepared to intercept Goeben in the Adriatic. Surely over the past five days, every possible calculation had been run assessing the relative strengths of the four armored cruisers versus the single battlecruiser. Meetings with the various captains must have worked out plans of attack to cover every possible contingency. And there could not have been a single man aboard those cruisers who did not understand what would happen at dawn – and where his duty lay. Later – Troubridge claimed his decision to attack was made out of sheer desperation, and completely ignored clear orders from Admiral Milne and the Admiralty...”not to engage a superior force”. Again we are confronted with the question of what constitutes a “superior force”? Was a single German battlecruiser accompanied by a light cruiser with 4.1-inch guns a “superior force”? And what of the Royal Navy’s long-standing tradition of attacking even when outnumbered? Apparently, the Rear-Admiral had given considerable thought to the situation, and even more thought to the vaunted Royal Navy traditions. He was standing in HMS Defence’s chart room, deep in thought, when the flag-captain came in around 02:45 and saw the worried expression. Wray, a man who had an authoritative answer for everything, had already decided the question of “superior force”, and was troubled by his commander’s obvious indecision. He came straight to the point...”Are you going to fight, Sir? If so – the squadron should know.” “Yes…” replied Troubridge. “I know it is wrong, but I cannot have the name of the whole Mediterranean Squadron disgraced.” Wray dutifully nodded and withdrew from the chart house, but he did not like the answer. He had been trained as a gunnery officer and knew the difference between the British 9.2-inch gun and the German 11-inch rifle. He was also aware the German warships had run away from battlecruisers doing 24 knots. Around 03:30, Wray returned to the chart room and casually mentioned to Troubridge he did not “...fancy the prospect of taking on Goeben”. “Neither do I – but what’s bothering you?”...asked the Admiral. Fawcett Wray had the dialogue well prepared, and (seemingly for the first time – and with only two and a half hours to contact) he explained how Goeben, with her superior speed, would be able to control the battle range. The enemy 11-inch guns could range out to nearly 18,100 yards – while Defence’s 9.2-inch guns could only manage 16,200 yards. Goeben’s speed advantage would ensure she stayed beyond British gun range while her big rifles shot them to pieces. And if they tried to break off the action – Goeben could chase them down, one by one, and sink them all. It was, Wray explained, entirely possible for the battlecruiser to sink the entire cruiser squadron while suffering only minor damage – if any at all. “It seems to me…” he concluded “...to engage Goeben would be suicidal.” Troubridge, his resolve wavering, said defensively – “I cannot turn away now – think of my pride”. But Wray was ready with the “closing argument”…...”Does England wish you to throw away thousands of lives and four armored cruisers – for the sake of your pride?” Troubridge sent for the navigator and asked if there was any chance of the squadron closing to the range of the 9.2-inch guns. He was told there was no chance whatsoever. A few minutes past 04:00, 7 August, off the southern tip of the Greek Island of Zante (modern Zakynthos) -- Rear-Admiral Sir Ernest Troubridge called off the chase. Wray told him...”Admiral, that is the bravest thing you have ever done in your life.” Needless to say – there would be differing opinions on that. The reason given in the official report was that 1st Cruiser Squadron would not have been able to reach the point of interception until long after the German squadron had passed. (Which, in all truth, was quite correct. So there was no need for all that drama and soul-searching. But not making the effort turned out to be “bad form”.) At sunrise on 7 August, Goeben’s lookouts sighted Gloucester’s smoke column still trailing astern. Like a “fox-hound”, Captain Kelly continued to shadow the German battlecruiser, even though Milne had signaled him to drop astern to avoid “capture” (odd choice of words). In mid-afternoon (13:00), near the Gulf of Kalamata, Breslau took steps to deal with the annoying British cruiser. Breslau dropped astern of Goeben and began crossing Gloucester’s bow – repeatedly --as if dropping mines in her path. Gloucester opened fire at 11,500 yards with her forward 6-inch gun and Breslau instantly replied with rapid salvos of extremely accurate fire. Kelly increased speed and turned Gloucester to present her broadside guns as he closed the range. Unfortunately for Kelly, this move provoked Souchon to bring Goeben into action. No more than a distant smudge in the heat haze, Kelly watched the big battlecruiser swing to open up her firing arcs – then the guns flashed. Twenty seconds later – the sea close ahead of Gloucester erupted in hundred-foot geysers. Kelly instantly put Gloucester’s helm hard-over and withdrew to a more respectful distance. He signaled Milne at 14:45...”Have engaged Breslau at long range – retreated when Goeben opened – am following.” Around 16:40, running low on coal, and with orders from Milne not to go beyond Cape Matapan, Kelly signaled...”Enemy ships in Cervi Channel steering east 15 knots – am off Cape Matapan – returning – N55W – 15 knots”. Captain Howard Kelly ordered his ship about and steamed off to the west – having preformed not only a “text book” shadowing mission, but preforming it with a steadiness and courage even Souchon would have found commendable. Sadly, it would prove to be the only creditable British performance in the whole affair. When Gloucester put about and disappeared over the western horizon – Goeben and Breslau found themselves alone – and they disappeared into the maze of islands in the Aegean Sea. Once the German squadron rounded Cape Maleas, in southeastern Greece, Souchon reduced speed to 12 knots and changed course to the northeast. Goeben and her consort lingered in mid-ocean northwest of the island of Ikaria throughout 8 August – keeping a watchful eye on the horizon while waiting for a contract steamer. On 9 August, Souchon steamed south and rendezvoused around 05:32 with a leased collier in Rusa Bay off Denusa Island. Coaling began immediately and continued around the clock at a furious pace. Goeben’s wireless flat monitored the constant stream of traffic passing between Royal Navy warships, and was able to estimate how far away they might be by the signal’s strength. Admiral Souchon was unaware the British had all but given up the pursuit of his ship, so at 05:45 on 10 August, the squadron weighed and steamed north at 15 knots for the Dardanelles. (At about the same time, Admiral Milne and his battlecruisers were just beginning a leisurely search of the western islands.) Berlin had warned Souchon he might not gain immediate entry from the Turks – diplomatic negotiations were still ongoing – but he approached the straits, nevertheless. At 17:00, Goeben and Breslau hove-to off Cape Hellas and signaled the station for a pilot. Within minutes a Turkish torpedo boat steamed out of the Dardanelles, signaled “Follow me”, and the German cruisers followed it through the protective minefields. By 19:17 Goeben and Breslau lay at anchor beneath the fortress guns at Chanak Roads. On 11 August, the German ships moved to Artaki Bay and began coaling ship – taking on 2,445 tons in Goeben alone. After a day of rest, both cruisers scrubbed down the decks and touched-up their paint work. On 16 August, Goeben and Breslau anchored in Haidar Pasha Roads, off Constantinople, their fresh white paint gleaming in the morning sun. The Turkish Naval Minster came aboard to inspect the ship, and in a formal ceremony, received both warships into the Ottoman Navy – whereupon, the German sailors removed their Imperial German caps and donned their new head gear – the crimson Turkish Fez. SMS Goeben was renamed Yavuz Sultan Selim, and Breslau became Midilli. On 23 September, Admiral Souchon officially accepted the offer to command the Ottoman fleet. The British had rudely seized two Turkish battleships in July 1914, and now the Germans had given them a superb battlecruiser and a modern cruiser in August. The old Sultan in Constantinople must have seen the “Hand of Allah” in it. No doubt he suppressed an outright laugh when the British ambassador filed a formal protest. The pursuit of SMS Goeben – and the battlecruiser’s career in the Imperial German Navy – had come to an end. SMS Goeben is accepted into the Ottoman Navy as the Turkish flag is hoisted. The German crew has not yet donned the “Fez”. AFTERMATH Though there was no formal declaration of war, The Turkish War Minster, Enver Pasha, ordered a pre-emptive strike against the Russian Black sea ports, and Yavuz Sultan Selim (Goeben) fired the first shells announcing Turkey’s entry into The Great War. As flagship of the Ottoman Navy, she served her new masters well during the remainder of the war. Goeben’s consort, Breslau, was lost in 1918 at the Battle of Imbros from mine damage. But the battlecruiser survived into old age and was assigned “NATO hull #70” in 1952. Yavuz Sultan Selim was finally stricken from the Turkish Navy on 14 November 1954. When she went to the breaker’s yard in 1973, she was the only existing dreadnought outside the United States, the last surviving warship built by the Imperial German Navy, and the longest serving dreadnought in the World. (The vessel had, in fact, been offered for sale to the German government as a museum ship, but the offer was declined.) Some historians have said the mere presence of Goeben in the Sea of Marmora led to the Dardanelles Campaign, and the failure to open the Turkish Straits prevented the British from supporting Russia with war materials – which, in turn, led to the Russian Revolution and the fall of the House of Romanov. This is, at best, wishful thinking – and at worst, pure nonsense. The Lords of Admiralty (mostly Winston Churchill) thought they could send a fleet charging up the Dardanelles and all but “scare” the poor, weak, decrepit Turks into surrendering – thereby establishing an ice-free supply route to bolster their Russian ally. Needless to say – it was not all that easy, and the British managed to lose the Dardanelles Campaign all on their own. Goeben’s existence never entered into it. The Admiralty triumphantly announced the Mediterranean had been “swept clean of German forces” – but the public mood soured when they realized Goeben had led the Royal Navy a “merry chase” – and gotten away to boot. Admiral Sir Archibald Berkeley Milne was recalled and faced a Court of Inquiry on 30 August. Though formally acquitted, Milne never received the promotion, or the job at the Admiralty he had expected. Instead he was left unemployed, on half-pay, until the end of the war – his name widely vilified in the service. A Court Martial was convened aboard HMS Bulwark at Portland from 5-9 November 1914, to determine the guilt or innocence of Rear-Admiral Sir Ernest Troubridge. Cowardice was not charged – but “...negligence to pursue...” was charged. In the end, the Admiralty orders had forbade engaging a “superior force” – and the only force present was Goeben. By implication – he had obeyed orders. The Court “fully and honorably” acquitted Troubridge. Having been acquitted, he was treated less harshly -- given various commands, all beneath his station and expectation, and never served at sea again. Fawcett Wray gave evidence at the court, but was not implicated in any charge. Nevertheless, he was treated like poison and remained unemployed for some time. Later he was able to redeem something of his reputation by winning a DSO at the Dardanelles. In effect, all three officers had been “broken”. Historians and “armchair strategists” have debated for over a century about what sort of chance Troubridge would have had in combat against Goeben. Some have said Troubridge could have sent Goeben to the bottom with a well-coordinated gun and torpedo attack. Others look at the size of the guns, the number of guns on each side, and they calculate the “weight of broadside”. None of these comparisons can provide a realistic measurement of combat power. The idea of a “coordinated gun and torpedo attack” would not work, because they simply couldn’t pull it off. Goeben was too fast for the armored cruisers. She could choose the gun range, and simply stand-off and shoot the British ships to pieces, while all their 9.2-inch shells fell short. And at that range and speed, it would be difficult to fire a torpedo at Goeben with any prospect of success. British officers, as a whole, seemed obsessed with the idea of “closing with the enemy” – determined to close the range, bring all their guns to bear, and fight it out – broadside to broadside. But they had no actual experience of the destructive power of the German 11-inch high-velocity rifle. And – only 3 days into the war, they had not yet seen the effect of their guns on a German capital ship. They assumed they were about to engage a “battlecruiser” – much like their own lightly armored battlecruisers. They had no way of knowing they were contemplating trading shots with a “fast battleship” – armored like a battleship. Goeben’s tough and comprehensive armor scheme could have absorbed anything Troubridge threw at her, while shooting his ships full of very large holes. Perhaps, Troubridge was not so much a villain as he was a wise and compassionate man. In retrospect, he could have engaged SMS Goeben, watched her sink or cripple one of his armored cruisers in just a few minutes, then broken off the engagement. Admiral Souchon would likely not have pressed the issue, and Troubridge would have been hailed as a Hero. But – such are the vagaries of history…… Yavuz Sultan Selim paying a courtesy port call at Malta in 1936. The crew has manned the side to salute HMS Valiant. You can just see her masts and funnels over the forward turret. POST SCRIPT: The 1st Division of the Austrian battle fleet as they might have looked moored along the breakwater at Pola – circa 1914. Left to right – SMS Prinz Eugen, Viribus Unitis, and Tegetthoff. This whole affair with Troubridge begs the question…...what, exactly, did Admiral Milne think the 1st Cruiser Squadron was supposed to fight? When Troubridge signaled he was giving chase to SMS Goeben, Milne did not even reply with instructions to proceed with caution. When the chase was broken off – Troubridge was vilified. Yet the original assignment was to blockade the Straits of Otranto to (1) prevent the Austrians from linking up with Goeben, or (2) to prevent Goeben from reaching safety in the Austrian port of Pola. While it is questionable whether Troubridge could have prevented Souchon from doing whatever he pleased, there is no doubt he would have been unable to resist an Austro-Hungarian battle fleet bearing down on his blockade line. It really makes you wonder if assigning Troubridge to the Otranto patrol line was a “fool’s errand” or an act of bravado on Milne’s part. Having recently completed sea trials, SMS Prinz Eugen has a machinist’s barge alongside while workmen complete a few minor adjustments. The Austro-Hungarian Fleet did, in fact, sortie in support of Goeben at first light on 7 August. Steaming south toward the Straits of Otranto were the 3 modern dreadnought battleships of the Viribus Unitis Class, 3 pre-dreadnought battleships of the Radetzky Class, 2 cruisers, and 19 destroyers and torpedo boats. The squadron mounted a total of thirty-six 12-inch guns. The best the elderly British armored cruisers could muster was less than half that number of 9.2-inch guns. Fortunately for Troubridge, around noon on 8 August, the Austrians were recalled when Vienna was informed Goeben was steaming east, for Constantinople. SMS Viribus Unitis is seen here preparing to coal ship. When war broke out in 1914, the ships of the Viribus Unitis Class were among the most modern in the Mediterranean. They mounted four triple turrets, all on the centreline – with gun houses specially designed by Skoda Arms Works and mounting their superb 12-inch rifles. They were fine, compact, ships with the superstructure grouped amidships and otherwise uncluttered decks. There was sufficient freeboard to keep them dry, but their metacentric height was a bit too high and resulted in a less stable gun platforms than their German cousins. The effect of torpedoes and mines was completely unknown prior to the war, and their only real weakness was underwater attack. If mined or torpedoed – they were certain to go to the bottom. Only SMS Tegetthoff and Prinz Eugen survived the war to be surrendered to Italy and France, respectively. A Thor Class tug has come alongside with a lighter full of fresh provisions for the flagship, SMS Tegetthoff. The two steam launches tied-up at the boat boom would indicate an admiral aboard. An overview of the division at their moorings. The battleship models, gunboat USS Erie (left of picture), and the steam tug Goliath (right of picture) are courtesy of Barroco Hispano. Breakwater by “Uki”. The warehouse buildings on the machinist’s barge are from “Nob’s 1905 Naval Series”. The white tugboat (at top) was “gifted” by “WolfZe”. The mooring buoys, boat booms, small boats, motor launch, barge, various lighters, and tugboats are all the detailed work of “AP”. (This “Post Script was requested and inspired, by @Odainsaker. Hope you enjoyed it, mate.) NEXT TIME…… GROSSE KREUZER J - 1910 MANY THANKS to @Barroco Hispano for his beautiful warship models. SPECIAL THANKS to my partner, @AP, for his talents, meticulous detail, colorful imagination, and wonderful models. He is, indeed, A “Gift from The Gods”. 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 https://community.simtropolis.com/forums/topic/761469-simtropolis-shipyard/?tab=comments#comment-1766496

IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: CUXHAVEN By: Dreadnought & AP Chapter 16: THE NAVAL ARMS RACE & VON der TANN AT WAR Long before this political cartoon appeared in a 1909 edition of “Punch Magazine”, practically all of Europe had been engaged in a somewhat low level arms race of one sort or another. The Italians were suspicious of the French and Austrians. The Austrians watched the Italians and the Russians. The French watched the Austrians, eyed the Italians with suspicion, remained wary of the British, courted Russian friendship, and hurled diplomatic lightning bolts at Germany. The Russians insisted on involving themselves in volatile Balkan disputes with Austria, while generally flailing about diplomatically. Kaiser Wilhelm II pretty much rattled his saber at everyone, depending upon his mood at the time. And Great Britain, secure in their “Island Fortress”, practiced “splendid isolation”, while maintaining a battle fleet equal to the two most powerful fleets in Continental Europe (The “Two Power Standard”). While “Punch” treated the subject with derisive humor in 1909 (at the expense of the Kaiser and the Tsar) – the British were actually quite touchy on the subject. Alfred Thayer Mahan published “The Influence Of Sea Power Upon History” in 1890, a book every bit as influential as Darwin’s “Origin of the Species” or Marx’ “Das Kapital”. The volume lit a fire under every naval officer and amateur the world over. Kaiser Wilhelm II “devoured” the book and ordered a copy to be placed aboard every warship. The Kaiser then grew frustrated when the Reichstag would not pay for a gigantic fleet. Alfred von Tirpitz came aboard in 1897 and pushed his new Naval Laws through the Reichstag to begin the creation of his “fleet in being”. At first, he envisioned a fleet of 50 or 60 pre-dreadnought battleships matched against a Royal Navy who’s strength would be scattered all over the world...”It comes down to a battleship war between Heligoland and the Thames”. Oddly enough, German diplomats thought threatening the British with a huge fleet might actually make them want to sign a “friendship treaty”. Although British monarchs had been Germanic since 1714, the “British Public” never quite understood what that had to do with it. What they did understand, was Britain was an island nation, with a small army, and a vast overseas empire. The British economy thrived on imported materials and exported goods. And, by 1900, fully 58% of all foodstuffs consumed in Britain came in by boat (not to mention the omnipresent “tea” from India and China). Anything that interfered with free trade on the “High Seas” threatened not only Britain’s bank balance, but her dinner menu as well. Even before Germany presented a challenge at sea, British politicians and military men worried about the catastrophic economic, social, and political consequences if the Royal Navy should lose command of the sea. These worries even began to manifest themselves (around 1871) in an entire genre of “Invasion Literature” (The Riddle Of The Sands – 1903 – Erskine Childers – is an absolute “classic”). The stuff that Naval Arms Races are made of – SMS Von der Tann anchored off the Old Basin Mole. Inside the Old Basin (on left) are the torpedo boats of the Hochseeflotte. The “Old Basin mole” is made-up of NBVC Sea Walls with Paeng’s Grunge Concrete pavement. Some sea wall lots were modified to include lighting. The torpedo boat flotillas of the Hochseeflotte were composed of a wide variety of classes of varying numbers. But the majority were boats of the G-101, V-170, and smaller V-25 classes (V-25 left of picture). The wooden piers on left are from the “Nob 1905 Japanese Navy Series”. The rickety wooden landings are from the “PEG Cannery” lot. With the exception of the odd Maxis props – all of the “activity” and “clutter” on the mole – along with the mooring dolphins and small boats -- are by “AP”. Von der Tann and the torpedo boat models are courtesy of @Barroco Hispano. The first German Naval Law of 1898 passed with little notice in Britain. When the Second Boer War broke out in South Africa, a German steamer bound for the Boer Republics was seized by the Royal Navy for carrying “contraband” – rifles and ammunition. The British were outraged to find the Kaiser meddling in their “colonial war” – and the Kaiser was mortified he could not take on the Royal Navy. The “German Public” was outraged as well – and the Second Naval Law of 1900 was easily passed – calling for a fleet of 45 battleships and armored cruisers. Rumors about HMS Dreadnought began to circulate in 1905 and Tirpitz wanted more money to build “dreadnoughts. Fortunately for the Secretary, the “Novelle of 1906” would pass the Reichstag after the First Moroccan Crisis (1906) duly inflamed German nationalist sentiment against Britain. Using the political tensions to his advantage, Tirpitz got a second supplementary bill through the Reichstag in 1908 to increase the delivery of new battleships from 3 per year to four. This would provide a fleet of 21 dreadnought battleships by 1914. The German Chancellor, Bernhard von Bulow, was responsible for finding the tax money to fund the largest army and the second largest navy in Europe – and he had begun to question the wisdom of such a large navy. Naval expansion was straining diplomatic relations with Britain, while the cost was pushing the government into deficit-spending – and the national debit had doubled between 1900 and 1908. But Tirpitz was a force to be reckoned with – and the Kaiser refused to support von Bulow. The 1908 Naval Law was passed – and von Bulow resigned in July, 1909. The passing of the German Naval Law angered and aroused the British Public, and though opposed by the Chancellor Of The Exchequer, the slogan...”We want eight and we won’t wait!”...got the funding pushed through Parliament. Eight dreadnoughts were duly ordered – four in 1910 and four more in 1911. And there was even funding for additional battlecruisers. So the Naval Arms Race had become not just a reality – but a national emergency. And however humorous “Punch” might make it sound, it burned through millions of Pounds and millions of Marks – and was a deadly serious business. VON der TANN’s SEA TRIALS SMS Von der Tann fitting-out at the Imperial Dockyard, Kiel. Note the cantilever crane hoisting one of the big 11-inch rifles preparatory to installing it in the starboard wing turret. In May 1910, Von der Tann sailed from the Blohm & Voss yard in Hamburg, to finish her fitting-out work in the Kaiserliche Werft, Kiel. She had to steam round Denmark past “Skagen” and through the Skagerrak, Kattegat, and “Kleinen Belt”, because the new dreadnought ship types (Nassau and Von Der Tann) were too large to transit the Kaiser Wilhelm I Canal. Work on widening the canal had begun in 1907 and would not be completed until mid 1914. (British diplomats jokingly said... “Kaiser Bill won’t start his war until the ditch is dug.” Oddly enough, within a year of the canal opening – WW I broke out.) The German Navy was frequently short of crews at the time, so dockyard workers had to bring the ship to Kiel. On 1 September 1910, SMS Von der Tann’s flag and pennant were raised, and she was commissioned into the Kaiserliche Marine. Most of the crew was taken off the recently commissioned dreadnought SMS Rheinland. (Rheinland’s crew would be filled out with men from the decommissioned pre-dreadnought battleship Zahringen.) Sea trials began soon after, and her designed performance parameters (guaranteed by contract) were, in all respects, fulfilled or exceeded. The crucial element – speed – was astonishing. Though rated at 42,000 shp to deliver 24.5 knots, on the measured 6-mile course near Neukrug, Von der Tann’s turbines developed 77,926shp and recorded a maximum sustained speed of 27.4 knots. At the time of her launch, Von der Tann was the fastest dreadnought afloat. SMS Von der Tann at anchor – early 1911. During trials the ship handled well. The turbines sprang to life immediately, unlike triple expansion engines that required time to “work-up”. With the turbines in “full reverse”, the ship could come to an emergency stop in two minutes, covering a distance of 882 meters. She answered the helm quickly and had to be “brought back” promptly to avoid “over-turn” – but at low speeds she did not maneuver well. There was little vibration at high speed, but predictably, she shipped water over the bow and was generally wet at high speeds. Just as predictably, the trials report was critical of the officer quarters in the forecastle. When the ship was underway, the scuttles had to be closed to avoid spray from the bow – and the foreship area was quite cold and noisy. (No doubt the wave action against the bow.) On the other hand, the crew accommodation aft was deemed excellent! The armament was thoroughly tested, both in “dry-fire” exercises and in “live-fire”. The main battery was found to be well positioned with wide firing arcs. Turret training was smooth and reasonably fast, and the well-balanced gun houses could be trained manually quite easily. The big rifles preformed well, with no working or recoil problems. However, the fume extractor fans in the secondary battery casemates (5.9-inch) were not powerful enough and would have to be changed. Broadside view of Von der Tann anchored alongside the Old Basin mole. Model by Barroco Hispano. Unfortunately, the 3.5-inch anti-torpedo-boat guns were a great disappointment. The first group, mounted in the bow were “swamped” by the bow wave – the second and third groups, mounted in the forward and aft superstructure were adversely effected by the fire of the main guns -- and the fourth group, mounted in the stern, was “swamped” by the “stern wave” created at high speed. The trial report suggested the guns only be used to protect the ship while lying at anchor. They were soon removed. The untested turbine installation proved safe and reliable, with no operating problems or accidents. The contract performance requirements were considerably exceeded and the engineering officers had no difficulty whatever with the complex arrangements. The “first of its kind” boiler plant developed no tubing leaks, nor did it require repair, even after repeated overloading during speed trials. Coal consumption proved much lower than anticipated – a distinct advantage of the Blohm & Voss designed boilers. They produced more steam, used far less coal, and weighed a good deal less to boot. The high capacity, custom-built boilers fed the turbines at higher pressure and in greater quantity – making Von der Tann faster than any capital ship afloat. SERVICE CAREER SMS Von der Tann underway at high speed. Almost immediately upon completing sea trials, it was decided to send Von der Tann on a South American cruise. It was customary to send all capital ships on long voyages after commissioning – sometimes to the Mediterranean, or Spain, or even North America. It served the purpose of a “working up” cruise – to get the officers and crew accustomed to their new ship, and to test the ship in the deep waters of the Atlantic. On a long voyage, in open waters, it would be possible to evaluate the working of the guns in all conditions and to give a thorough evaluation of the Frahm anti-roll tanks. On a different level, the cruise would boost German prestige in South America, while displaying the latest example of German skill and ship building technology in countries that were in the market for new dreadnoughts. On 7 February 1911, the Kaiser approved the trip and suggested 20 February as a departure date, stipulating a return in early May so the battlecruiser would be present for the Spring maneuvers of the Hochseeflotte. At 11:00 on 20 February, Von der Tann eased out of Kiel and began her transit of the Skagen, bound for Rio de Janeiro. Kapitan zur See Robert Mischke was on the bridge. After a two day layover in Tenerife, she arrived at her destination on 14 March, exchanging gun salutes with the forts guarding Rio’s anchorage. The trip had not been -- uneventful. They encountered thick fog and heavy seas in the “Hoofden” (area north and west of Holland), and southwest of Ushant they steamed into a full gale rolling in from the Atlantic. Heavy seas broke over the weather decks, and course was changed several times to try and avoid the worst of the breakers. The aggravated movements of the ship caused the single refrigeration unit on board to fail, and for fear of losing the vast quantity of meat and fresh vegetables, they “hove-to” for eight hours to make repairs. Topside, several of the ship’s boats stowed amidships were damaged, and one demolished. One particular breaker was seen to reach the compass platform, some 18 meters above the waterline. SMS Von der Tann at anchor in the roadsted of Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. February 1911. In the background is the Brazilian dreadnought battleship Sao Paulo. On 19 March, the light cruiser SMS Bremen joined Von der Tann and on the 23rd, both ships departed for a “port call” at Itajaha, Brazil. Another port call followed in Bahia Blanca, Argentina, with a “courtesy call” at Buenos Aires, Argentina, and a final stop at Bahia, Brazil. In Bahia, fresh provisions were brought aboard and two days were spent topping-off the coal bunkers for the return journey. SMS Bremen departed early on 17 April to resume her “American Station” duties, while Von der Tann departed Bahia that evening, arriving at Santa Cruz, Tenerife, on 25 April. A telegram arrived from the Reichsmarineamt requesting Von der Tann to make the remainder of the voyage at her highest possible sustained speed. She sailed at 20:30 on 2 May and arrived off the harbor locks at Wilhelmshaven around 06:00 on 5 May. The ship had maintained an “overall average” of 24 knots during the voyage, sustained 27 knots for an extended period, and actually attained a maximum speed of 28 knots. A very respectable performance. Overall, the trip was a success and valuable performance information was gained. It was also good advertising for the German shipbuilding industry. Von der Tann was low and lean, with heavy guns and great speed, and impressed all the South American dignitaries that toured her. The final report of the “cruising evaluation” was quite complimentary. Though rather wet in bad weather -- she was fast, answered her helm quickly, moved with an easy motion, and provided a good, stable, gun platform – even when moving at speed. Just three days after her return, Von der Tann was assigned to 1st Scouting Group, Hochseeflotte – and began participating in normal training and maneuver exercises. Around 15 June, the cruiser was ordered to Vlissingen, Holland (Flushing), to embark Kronprinz Wilhelm and Kronprinzessin Cecilie bound for England, where they would represent the German Empire at the coronation of King George V. From 20-29 June, Von der Tann participated in the Coronation Naval Review at Spithead. When the festivities were over, the cruiser reembarked the Imperial couple and returned them to Wilhelmshaven. Von der Tann riding at anchor during the 1911 Coronation Review at Spithead. As the most modern warship in the Hochseeflotte, the new battlecruiser was deliberately chosen to represent the Kaiserliche Marine. Her design was elegant – her lines graceful – and her power obvious for all to see. Among the warships of many nations present for the event, Von der Tann created a tremendous impression. The combined British fleets arrive and begin to anchor just before sunset 19 June 1911. As the representative of the German Empire, SMS Von der Tann is anchored to the right at the head of the column. She can just be seen in the left of the picture. The 1911 summer cruise of the Hochseeflotte went to Norwegian waters at the end of June and into August. And the autumn maneuvers were once again held in the western Baltic and Kattegat. The flag of Commander Reconnaissance Forces, Vizeadmiral Gustav Bachmann, was hoisted aboard Von der Tann on 29 September, and she became the squadron flagship. On 26 June, 1912, Von der Tann sailed via the Skagen to Wilhelmshaven for machinery overhaul, and the remainder of the year was occupied with training and small unit maneuvering. February 1913 kicked off a busy year for the Hochseeflotte, with Scouting Group exercises focusing on the tactics and employment of the new battlecruisers. The exercise started in the Kattegat, then made a simulated combat deployment to the North Sea -- for the first time. The maneuvers continued into March, followed by gunnery exercises on the Baltic ranges at the end of April, and finally, fleet maneuvers in the North Sea (again) for three weeks in May. The latter half of July and the first week in August were spent on the summer cruise to Norway. The autumn maneuvers followed, beginning on 31 August – once the ships from the Baltic had assembled at Wilhelmshaven – some via the new extensions to the Kaiser Wilhelm I Canal, and some via the Skagen route. The final maneuver exercise was a simulated attack on the mouth of the River Ems, with SMS Seydlitz included among the Panzerkreuzer for the first time. October 1913 saw what appeared to be a mundane and quite ordinary movement in the chain of command. On that day, Konteradmiral Franz von Hipper hoisted his flag aboard SMS Seydlitz and assumed command of the 1st Scouting Group. Fate – in its’ unfathomable course – had brought together the man and the ships that would write some of the most stirring chapters in all of naval history. But that would come later. SMS Seydlitz moored to buoys in Schillig Roads as she would have looked in 1913. Having just returned from five days of maneuvers, the ship is bustling with activity. A motor launch has come out from Wilhelmshaven – no doubt with mail and paperwork for the Kapitan. Two Thor Class tugs have come alongside Seydlitz. The first one has a lighter filled with fresh provisions and the second one has two coal lighters to replenish the bunkers. An Esmeralda Class paddle tug stands off while waiting to unload two lighters with ship’s stores and dry goods. Another view of SMS Seydlitz. Ahead and astern of the battlecruiser are “”battleship buoys”. They are actually just mooring buoys we settled on after doing a bit of research. I prefer to use these with the big ships and keep the “barrel buoys” for the smaller ships. The green buoy in the center foreground is a “starboard channel marker” (port markers are red). The buoy marks the inshore limits of the offshore dredged channel. With the exception of the landscape, everything in the picture is the talented work of @AP. The battlecruiser, three tugs, lighters, small boats, the motor launch, buoys, and the channel marker – all done by “AP”. The early months of 1914 involved unit training (usually in divisions rather than squadrons) until Spring fleet maneuvers in both the Baltic and North Sea in April and May. On 28 June, the Austrian Archduke Franz Ferdinand (heir to the throne) was assassinated in Sarajevo. Regardless of rising political tensions, on 13 July, the fleet put to sea for the Norwegian summer cruise – the last peacetime cruise the Imperial Navy would undertake. German squadrons from the Baltic and North Sea rendezvoused in the area of Skagen and exercises commenced. On 25 July the ships ran into various fjords for a break in routine, but by evening of the 26th, they had quit their anchorages. Austria-Hungary had delivered an ultimatum to the Serbians and the political situation was becoming explosive. The Hochseeflotte rendezvoused at the latitude of Cape Skudenes on 27 July, and on orders of the Kaiser, the ships returned to their home ports and assumed an increased state of readiness. A close-up of Von der Tann. A small boat is attempting to “hook-on” the battlecruiser’s starboard side. The activity on the mole would be a natural sight around any boat landing. The boats are always kept handy in case of emergency, and the green and red “channel marker buoys” were left by a work boat. The black sausage-shaped objects are “Atlantic Fenders” – courtesy of “AP” from his seagoing days. They are placed between a ship and the pier to act as “cushions” against the movement of moored ships and boats, and can be found everywhere in harbors. The beautiful model of Von der Tann is worth another look – the gun turrets, alone, are works of art with a wealth of detail – from Barroco Hispano. On 31 July, Von der Tann and the light cruiser SMS Coln sortied as far west of Wilhelmshaven as the island of Juist, in support of a reconnaissance line established there by the light cruisers Mainz, Kolberg, and Stralsund. The battlecruiser lingered in the area for a time then returned to Schillig Roads and anchored with Moltke and Seydlitz. As an interesting point, the German Naval High Command had established the “Mainz reconnaissance line” on the edge of territorial waters to intercept a presumed British “surprise attack” on Wilhelmshaven. It had long been their belief the Royal Navy, in the spirit of Horatio Nelson, would attempt to “Copenhagen” the Hochseeflotte. The idea came from some rash comments Fisher made before he left the Admiralty in 1910, and was based on the 1801 Battle Of Copenhagen, where the Royal Navy made a preemptive attack on the Danish fleet in their anchorage. But Britain’s declaration of war came and went on 4 August and everything remained quiet. So much so, that Von der Tann went into Wilhelmshaven’s floating dry dock on 20 August for a quick bottom-cleaning and painting. FIRST BATTLE OF HELIGOLAND BIGHT On 28 August 1914, Von der Tann was riding at anchor in Wilhelmshaven Roads with the cruiser Kolberg, battlecruiser Seydlitz (flagship, Scouting Forces), and seven dreadnoughts of the I and III Battle Squadrons. Around 09:20 wireless reports began coming in regarding enemy light forces in the Heligoland Bight. Konteradmiral Franz von Hipper (commander, Scouting Forces) gave orders to raise steam with all haste. The Admiral’s eagerness to engage the enemy was very commendable – but the timing was all wrong. When the Jade Estuary had been selected as a naval base, it was the age of sail – not the age of giant steel dreadnoughts with a 30-foot draft. The entire Jade Bay is a mass of shallows and mud flats with several dredged channels leading to the various small ports along its shores. The Imperial Dockyard is a dredged harbor and roadsted at the end of a dredged deep-water channel leading past Schillig Roads and out to sea. Wilhelmshaven can only be entered through ship locks designed to keep the harbor water level at a sufficient depth to accommodate the big warships. Therefore the ship locks could only be operated when the tide was IN. The only other safe, round-the-clock, anchorage was Schillig Roads. Along the deep-water channel, beyond Schillig Roads, the Jade empties into the North Sea. All freshwater river currents slow down and dissipate where they empty into the ocean -- dumping silt and creating a sandbar across the river mouth. The Jade is no exception. On 28 August, SMS Moltke was assigned to picket duty and was lying at anchor in Schillig Roads – making her the only big ship with ready access to deep water. But it would have been unwise to send a single battlecruiser into an unknown situation west of Heligoland Island. By 11:55, tidal conditions had improved, and Von der Tann upped anchor, passed through the locks, and ran out to Schillig Roads to join Moltke and await further orders. At 13:10 a wireless from the light cruiser Mainz came in – “Am chased by enemy battlecruisers.” Hipper instantly ordered – “Von der Tann and Moltke immediately move to support – Seydlitz to follow.” (The flagship was not quite ready for sea as repairs to one of her condensers was in progress.) The two battlecruisers sortied as ordered, but were unable to safely cross the “bar” at the mouth of the Jade until 14:10. Steaming northwest at 24 knots, the burning hulk of the light cruiser SMS Ariadne was sighted about 15:25. Explosions were seen aboard her from time to time as ready-use ammunition cooked-off. Nearby, the light cruisers Stralsund and Danzig were rescuing survivors, but there was nothing else to be seen. As ordered, the two battlecruisers waited in the vicinity for Seydlitz. Ariadne capsized at 15:57 and sank around 16:05. SMS Seydlitz appeared over the horizon five minutes later, and the battlecruisers set off north-by-northwest in search of the enemy. After a half hour, Hipper realized the British had sprung their ambush on the German light forces, overwhelmed them with five battlecruisers, sank the German light cruisers Mainz, Coln, and Ariadne, and the destroyer V-187 – and were now long gone. The Panzerkreuzer turned back and came to anchor in Schillig Roads around 20:20 that night. The British had taken the Germans completely by surprise – and so ended the First Battle Of Heligoland Bight. SMS Moltke – circa 1912 – but much as she would have appeared in 1914. Three Nordwind Class tugs are nudging her into her berth alongside a “Replenishment Pier”, while two Passat Class tugs adjust the bow and stern angles. In the lower left, you see two old sailing ships moored off the Replenishment Piers, which brought in cargo from commercial shippers. Moored in front is the barque Seehund – in back is the clipper Cutty Sark (AP and I are big fans of Cutty Sark and couldn’t resist the temptation to put her into the game.) This model of SMS Moltke is courtesy of Barroco Hispano – while we have another fine model of her by “AP” that you will see later. The tugs are also by “AP” – as are the beautifully rendered sailing ships – true works of art! In September, Von der Tann spent five days in Wilhelmshaven Dockyard for boiler maintenance and repair – a periodic fact of life. And in November she sortied with the 1st Scouting Group on the Great Yarmouth Raid. (See Chapter 11 for details.) During this period of the Great War at sea, the duties of the Imperial battlecruisers mainly consisted of lying at anchor in Wilhelmshaven Roads, and performing “picket duty” in Schillig Roads with steam up and ready to put to sea. The occasional exercise was also carried out in the “safe waters” of Heligoland Bight – between scheduled maintenance trips to the dockyard. In December 1914, Von der Tann once again sortied with 1st Scouting Group for the Bombardment of Scarborough, Whitby, and Hartlepool. (See Chapter 12 for full details.) Immediately after the Scarborough Raid, Von der Tann went into the dockyard for repairs and remained there until 21 December. The Naval High Command immediately began planning another raid, but a period of poor weather set in and the operation was postponed until February, 1915. Von der Tann again went into the dockyard for repair and maintenance and was out of service until 3 February – thereby missing the Battle Of Dogger Bank. (Details in Chapter 13.) SMS Von der Tann in the floating dock at Wilhelmshaven. This presents an excellent view of the smooth and graceful lines of the hull. It can be seen that the bilge keels have not yet been fitted amidships. Note the scaffolding suspended from the upper decks – you can just see the bow torpedo tube below the first scaffold, and the beam torpedo tube below the second net boom. You get a pretty good view of the secured torpedo nets as well. From the end of February, the bulk of 1915 was spent in reconnaissance operations, providing support for minelaying sorties, escorting commerce raiders out to sea, training and gunnery practice in the Baltic, scouting sweeps of the lower North Sea, more maintenance – including a stretch in the Wilhelmshaven floating dock -- and the usual picket duty. Most historians give the impression the Hochseeflotte spent the war safely at anchor, but that is not the case. While there might not have been regular fleet engagements, there were certainly many operations and sorties into the North Sea. In August 1915, the 1st Scouting Group (Seydlitz, Moltke, and Von der Tann) transited the Kaiser Wilhelm I Canal for a brief training period at Kiel before providing heavy support for an operation to break into the Russian-held Gulf Of Riga (Gulf Of Riga Operation). On 8 August, while at sea, the mission was changed and Von der Tann was ordered to proceed independently and bombard Uto Island, where a Russian warship had been sighted lying behind a headland. At 05:40, Von der Tann identified the Russian as the armored cruiser Bayan and opened fire. The headland partially obscured the target, but as soon as the big shells began to fall around her, Bayan shifted her berth to avoid them. A few minutes later, shore batteries on Uto Island opened on Von der Tann. One 6-inch shell struck her in the forward funnel mantle housing. The battlecruiser shifted fire to the land batteries and quickly silenced them with well-aimed direct fire. In the meantime, the secondary battery had opened fire on two Russian torpedo boats withdrawing at high speed into the inlets and fjords of the mainland. The main battery shifted back to Bayan as she, too, withdrew into the fjords. With the enemy now hidden from view, Von der Tann rejoined 1st Scouting Group and they set course for Putziger Wiek (Danzig Bay) to replenish coal. On 15 August, 1st Scouting Group resumed support operations in the Gulf of Riga. During the operation, on 19 August, at 07:19, SMS Moltke was torpedoed by the British submarine E-1, 20 miles south of the Saritcheff light vessel. The torpedo struck abreast the bow torpedo flat, killing eight men, and damaging several stored torpedoes. Fortunately, the damaged torpedoes did not detonate – and it was only the bow torpedo flat (The smaller of the two.), so the ship only took on 430 tons of water. The 1st Scouting Group then altered course to return to Putziger Wiek at Moltke’s best speed of 15 knots – where the torpedo damage would be accessed. Staying only long enough to take on additional coal, Seydlitz and Von der Tann proceeded north to continue their support mission, while Moltke was detached to proceed for repairs at Blohm & Voss in Hamburg. The battlecruisers remained off Riga until 21 August, then returned to Kiel. Von der Tann spent five days in Kiel – coaling, taking aboard provisions, and making repairs to the forward funnel. On 29 August, she entered Holtenau canal lock at 04:13 and made fast at berth A-4 in Wilhelmshaven around 21:40 that night. A close-up of SMS Moltke – 22,979 tons – 29.3 knots – 10x11 inch guns – 12x5.9 inch guns – 12x3.5 inch guns – 4x19.7 torpedo tubes – 11 inch belt armor. She was meant to be a sister-ship of Von der Tann, but financial constraints delayed her construction order and the Reichsmarineamt choose to upgrade her design features to keep ahead of the British. Though remarkably similar, you will note that a superfiring turret has been added aft. The remainder of 1915 was spent in various tasks: support for minelaying operations – covering reconnaissance operations by torpedo boat flotillas – an advance into the North Sea with elements of the I Battle Squadron – anti-aircraft gun test shoot off Heligoland Island – training in the Baltic – and a brief fleet advance into the German Bight in December. The third year of the war started quietly enough for Von der Tann, but 1916 would be a challenging year for the Kaiserliche Marine. In January, the battlecruiser spent some time at the fitting-out docks, followed in February by a search of the German Bight for the missing airship L-19. Kapitan zur See Hans Zenker assumed command of Von der Tann in the same month. The pace of operations picked up with the appointment of Vizeadmiral Reinhard Scheer as Commander-In-Chief of the Hochseeflotte. (Vizeadmiral Hugo von Pohl retired due to ill health and died of liver cancer a month after relinquishing command.) Von der Tann sortied in support of torpedo boat flotillas sweeping as far as Dogger Bank, and training in the German Bight. British submarines habitually lurked off the German naval bases and were frequently sighted during these missions – with equally frequent torpedoes fired at the big ships. In March 1916, Von der Tann and the 1st Scouting Group participated in a major “fleet advance” into the “Hoofden” area of the “Broad Fourteens” as far south as Haarlem, Holland. The purpose was to either raid Allied shipping to the Continent, or, at the very least, cause serious disruption to the supply traffic. As usual, the major threat to the fleet was underwater weapons and many floating mines were sighted. As the battlecruisers were returning to the Jade, the British submarine E-5 fired a torpedo at SMS Seydlitz near Borkum Island, but missed. THE LOWESTOFT RAID German battlecruisers shelling Lowestoft. The warship pictured could be either SMS Seydlitz, or SMS Moltke. Of the first four battlecruisers, they (and SMS Goeben) were the only ones with superfiring (stacked) stern turrets. On 24 April 1916, 1st Scouting Group, consisting of the battlecruisers Von der Tann, Moltke, Seydlitz (flagship), Derfflinger, and Lutzow, supported by six light cruisers and two torpedo boat flotillas, weighed anchor and steamed out of Schillig Roads. Konteradmiral Friedrich Boedicker was on the bridge of Seydlitz, temporarily in command while Admiral von Hipper was on sick leave. His mission was to bombard Lowestoft and Yarmouth in an attempt to draw out and ambush a portion of the Grand Fleet. Once clear of the Jade channel, they rounded Wangerooge Island and set course west-by-south at 18 knots. Smoke poured from the funnels of the light cruisers and torpedo boats as they raced ahead and to starboard to set up scouting screens. One torpedo boat flotilla was held back to screen the seaward flank of the big ships. Two hours later (13:40), Admiral Scheer put to sea with the heavy units of the Hochseeflotte, 2nd Scouting Group, and attending torpedo boat flotillas. It was Scheer’s intention to provide distant support for Boedicker’s raiding force. In addition, eight naval airships (Zeppelins) would make bombing attacks on Yarmouth and Lowestoft the night before the raid, then preform air reconnaissance for the fleet. Admiral John Jellicoe, informed of the impending raid through wireless intercepts, dispatched the Harwich Force (Commodore Reginald Tyrwhitt) to intercept the German raiders, ordered the Battlecruiser Fleet south to assist, and took the Grand Fleet to sea in support at 19:30. (If these response times seem slow – it’s because ships at anchor usually keep steam up in two, three, or possibly four boilers for electrical needs. It can take up to 2 hours or more to fire-off twenty to forty boilers and raise steam to maneuver.) Around 14:00, Boedicker’s battlecruisers came abreast of Norderney Island, and he ordered a turn to the northwest. It was his intention to avoid a known British minefield, as well as staying out of sight of Dutch observers on Terschelling Island (suspected of passing information to the British). At 15:38, Seydlitz struck a mine on the starboard bow abaft the broadside torpedo flat, blasting a 50 foot hole in her lower hull. She took on water fast – 1,400 tons -- and everything forward of “A” turret and below the armored deck flooded. (Coincidentally – that includes both torpedo flats.) The remaining battlecruisers immediately turned south to avoid further mines. Seydlitz also turned south and the torpedo boat V-28 came alongside to transfer Konteradmiral Boedicker to SMS Lutzow, where he raised his flag and continued the mission. Seydlitz set course for the Jade at reduced speed, accompanied by the torpedo boats V-69 and V-45. At 07:10, 25 April, she made fast at Wilhelmshaven’s berth A-4 and was moved into the floating dock for repairs the following day. It would be more than a month before the mine damage was made good. SMS Derfflinger and Lutzow (sister-ships) moored at buoys in the outer roadsted. The Defflinger Class was the fourth generation of Imperial battlecruisers and the most handsome of them all. They were longer than previous classes, with a low freeboard, and smooth, clean lines. They possessed the most pleasing profile of all the Imperial battlecruisers. The Derfflinger Class was designed to correct deficiencies found in previous classes. Their particulars were: 26,600 tons – 26.5 knots – 8x12-inch guns – 12x5.9-inch guns – 12x3.5-inch guns – 4x19.7-inch torpedo tubes – belt armor 11.8 inches. Note the red channel buoys marking the limits of the dredged deep water channel. In this close-up, you can see the extremely efficient layout of the deck plan. The superstructure is neatly tucked-in between the main battery turrets and has been kept as low as possible to reduce the target profile. The superstructure, as a whole, has been designed to allow the widest possible firing arcs for the main battery guns. Derfflinger has begun to take on the layout and profile that would, with just a few changes, become common in a later war. This beautiful and highly detailed model is courtesy of Barroco Hispano. At 04:50 on 25 April, the German battlecruisers were closing on Lowestoft when the light cruisers Rostock and Elbing – covering the south flank – spotted the light cruisers and destroyers of the Harwich Force steering north at speed. Commodore Tyrwhitt went into the attack, then turned away in an effort to draw the German ships off their intended target. But Boedicker refused to be distracted and maintained course while directing his light cruisers and torpedo boats to engage the enemy. The battlecruisers trained their guns on Lowestoft and opened fire at 15,000 yards. A heavy mist and low fog hung in the air, trapping the funnel smoke of the big ships close to the water and making it difficult to pick out targets ashore. The squadron altered course slightly north, clearing their sights of smoke, and based their targeting information on the Empire Hotel. The main and secondary batteries destroyed two 6 inch shore batteries, then shelled the dock areas, a wireless tower, a mine-laying station, two swing bridges, and managed to damage some 200 dwellings in the process. Around 05:20, the battlecruisers ceased fire and steered north, for Yarmouth, arriving at 05:42. The visibility was so poor, they fired a salvo apiece -- except Derfflinger, which fired 14 rounds of main gun ammunition. Boedicker then swung back to the south to find his detached cruisers and torpedo boats. When the battlecruisers hove into sight, Boedicker found a swirling melee in full progress and took the ships of the Harwich Force under fire at 13,000 yards. Tyrwhitt came under a heavy and accurate fire, and immediately put about. He broke off the action, running to the south – but not before HMS Conquest was severely damaged by a 12-inch salvo from Derfflinger. HMS Laertes was also damaged in the thirteen minute encounter. The battlecruisers gave chase, but there had been a “periscope sighting” moments before, and there were numerous British destroyers roaming the area, so Boedicker let the “little fish” go, and altered course eastward, for his rendezvous with the Hochseeflotte off Terschelling Bank. And there, we must leave the story of SMS Von der Tann. She was a fast ship, with a “thick skin”, and a powerful punch – and her design concept had been vindicated in battle. As the first Imperial German battlecruiser, she was the very first of some of the finest warships built in the Age of the Dreadnoughts. As a “fast battleship”, she was far ahead of her time and foretold the future of the dreadnought. But Von der Tann was not the last battlecruiser commissioned into the Kaiserliche Marine – so the best was yet to come. In a little over a month after the Lowestoft Raid, Von der Tann would put to sea yet again – this time bound for the Jutland coast. And that is, indeed, a story for another day. SMS Von der Tann – port quarter view. Low and graceful, she rides at anchor in Schillig Roads – circa 1911. Just ahead of her can be seen the stern of SMS Blucher. The sea is unusually calm and smooth – a good day to be a sailor. I hate to leave a story without a “finish”, but to go any farther would involve the Battle Of Jutland. “The Clash Of Dreadnoughts” – as the battle was called – was the largest fleet engagement of the 20th Century, and the largest since Trafalgar, in 1805. There were five Imperial battlecruisers involved in the battle – Von der Tann, Moltke, Seydlitz, Derfflinger, and Lutzow. The Imperial battlecruiser squadron did, in fact, bear the brunt of the battle – and preformed heroically. Yes – the dreadnought battleships were there – but, for the most part, they were merely supporting players – the “finale” for the larger performance. In the interest of doing the battlecruiser squadron proper justice, it only seemed logical to tell that story once all the “characters” (battlecruisers) had been introduced to the audience. Plus – the Battle Of Jutland splits itself rather neatly into phases – which means I can (maybe) keep the chapters short enough to actually read. NEXT TIME…… THE SECOND GENERATION MANY THANKS to @Barroco Hispano for his generosity in providing the beautiful warship models. SPECIAL THANKS to my collaborating partner, @AP, for volunteering his considerable talents, time, and vivid imagination. I am eternally indebted to him. 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 https://community.simtropolis.com/forums/topic/761469-simtropolis-shipyard/?tab=comments#comment-1766496

Turret “Albert” of SMS Helgoland. Even though the Helgoland Class mounted 12-inch rifles, this picture gives you a good idea of the size of a main battery turret compared to the seaman standing at left. The turret is massive and squat, with heavy and menacing guns. Just beneath the gun barrels, you can see the skylights opening above the crew quarters in the forecastle. The armored covers are raised to the vertical position, while the hinged glass lids are opened to allow air to circulate. IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: CUXHAVEN By: Dreadnought & AP Chapter 15: ANATOMY OF A BATTLECRUISER Shipyard builder’s slip– circa 1910. The construction process has just begun, and you can see the forefoot of the ship’s keel in the upper left corner. THE CONSTRUCTION On 26 September 1907, the construction contract for “Grosse Kreuzer-F” was awarded to Blohm & Voss Dockyard, Hamburg. The shipyard had previously built the pre-dreadnought battleship Kaiser Karl der Grosse in 1898, and after that, the armored cruisers Friedrich Carl, Yorck, and Scharnhorst. Blohm & Voss was much favored by the Kaiserliche Marine, and with good cause – they turned out finely finished and properly built ships – and quicker than other German yards. The new cruiser was expected to cost 36.5 million Marks – twice the cost of Scharnhorst, and a 33% increase over Blucher. And Tirpitz had gone to the Reichstag and traded on all that “public goodwill” to explain why the cost of “Grosse Kreuzer-F” had jumped so sharply. The Reichstag could see the necessity of countering the new British dreadnought battleships and cruisers – and they approved the funds -- but with little enthusiasm. This uneasy political/fiscal situation would be a major problem for the remainder of the Kaiserliche Marine’s existence. The Naval Laws had been based on the premise of fairly stable building costs – but that would quickly be seen as a really bad assumption. As everyone knows, when customers create a demand – prices go up. And, as we have already seen, each succeeding warship class grows -- the guns get bigger – the armor thickness increases – speed must be higher. And that always means more money. The ship’s keel was laid on 21 March 1908, and the hull launched not quite a year later. At the christening ceremony, she was named in honor of Ludwig Freiherr von und zu der Tann, a General of Infantry in the Royal Bavarian Army, and a veteran of the First Schleswig War (1848), the Austro-Prussian War (1866), and the Franco-Prussian War (1871). He was conspicuous for his bravery, and much decorated by the Kings of Bavaria. SMS Von der Tann – profile view and deck plan. Unlike other warships, Von der Tann’s overall appearance changed very little during her career. She would remain a beautiful vessel – long and sleek, with clean lines and uncluttered decks. SMS Von der Tann was the first Imperial German battlecruiser. The Naval High Command could call her a “Grosse Kreuzer”, and the fighting sailors could call her a “Panzerkreuzer”, but she was undeniably a battlecruiser. She had not been designed for policing functions on distant colonial stations, but to stand in the line of battle. More specifically, she was designed to overpower the British Invincible Class battlecruisers. A casual glance will show the layout of her guns was very similar to HMS Invincible – but the similarity is all visual – and stops there. In truth, Von der Tann was, in every respect, a great improvement over the original British concept. SMS Von der Tann easing through the west entrance to Cuxhaven Roadsted. Two Nordwind and two Passat Class tugs standby to assist. At top right, you see the second generation battlecruiser SMS Moltke lying at her berth along the breakwater. At lower left, pulling “guard duty”, is the gunboat USS Erie (See previous chapters.). Von der Tann and Erie are courtesy of @Barroco Hispano. Moltke and tugs are by @AP. Sea floor coral heads by NBVC. GENERAL CHARACTERISTICS The new cruiser displaced 19,370 tons -- a considerable increase over Blucher -- and fully 2,000 tons heavier than Invincible. At 563 feet, she was longer than previous classes, with a hull constructed of transverse and longitudinal frames, and riveted hull plating made of Siemens-Martin “mild steel”. The “mild steel” would be more flexible when hit with shells or splinters and would warp or buckle rather than shattering. There were fifteen watertight compartments and six deck levels, with a double bottom running 75% of her length – a significant increase of internal compartmentalization. (Internal subdivision slows flooding and confines it to a smaller area.) To counteract the rolling problem habitual to all German cruisers, “Frahm Anti-Roll Tanks” (developed at Blohm & Voss by Dr. Frahm) were installed for the first time in a large warship. Unfortunately, the decision was made during construction, and they were too small and fitted too far inboard. Proving ineffective on trials, they were converted to coal bunkers. Bilge keels were later fitted to improve stability. All interior decks were steel plated and covered with linoleum, while the exterior (“weather”) decks were steel plated and covered with 2.5 inches of teak planking. Forward, she had a narrow, raised, forecastle deck to accommodate the main battery turret, bridge superstructure, and the first funnel. The purpose of the raised deck was to keep heavy seas from washing over the bow. Unlike the ungainly, high-sided, British battlecruisers, the Kaiserliche Marine cruisers had too little freeboard – even with a raised forecastle. During heavy weather, Von der Tann was very wet, and personnel were not allowed to move about the weather decks. Aft of the forward superstructure, besides three main battery turrets, there was one small funnel and ventilator structure amidships, and a small aft control structure beyond that. The careful arrangement of her machinery spaces below decks allowed the “minimalist” superstructure to be placed well clear of the main battery turrets and firing arcs. The deck plating in the midships area was specially reinforced to withstand the blast pressure of cross-deck firing. The weather deck was low and flush all the way to the fantail. This view of Von der Tann will give you a sense of her sleek lines. Her length to width ratio was 6.5 to 1 – giving her enough beam for a stable gun platform while narrow enough to achieve good speed. She is built for speed – with her powerful gun battery on prominent display. In an unusual move, the crew quarters were placed aft of the stern turret barbette on the “battery deck” and “armored deck” below that – with only a few berthed in their traditional forecastle space. The officers, out of necessity to reach the bridge in a hurry, were billeted forward, beneath the forecastle deck. The experience proved unsatisfactory and was not repeated. (Imagine an off-duty Watch Officer trying to sleep while the cruiser pounds into a “head sea” at 18 knots.) Her crew consisted of 41 officers and 882 enlisted men. Von der Tann’s electrical needs were filled by six turbo-generators totaling 1,200kw output at 225 volts. This supplied lighting, communications, wireless, main gun turret traverse, and searchlights -- linked through the ship’s mains. As a precaution, the generators were divided between two dynamo rooms to provide redundancy in case of battle damage. (See Chapter 13 for dynamo problems suffered by HMS Lion.) Two searchlight platforms with four lights, along with an observation platform, were stepped against the foremast – with a similar installation on the mainmast. As a standard feature of German capital ships of this period, Von der Tann was equipped with a drainage and pumping system which could drain any compartment in the ship. Two large drain pipes ran down each side of the ship and connected to a pump room with three high-capacity centrifugal pumps (two steam driven – one electrical). In an emergency, the condenser pumps could also be connected to the drainage system. The ship also carried several portable, electric “leak” pumps. In accordance with a 1909 Reichsmarineamt directive, the cruiser was equipped with two wireless transmitters, three receivers, and as many antennas. In a 1912 refit, an additional transmitter/receiver was installed in the forward conning tower. ANTI-TORPEDO DEFENSE NETS The Russian pre-dreadnought battleship Evstafiya – circa 1910 – with her torpedo nets deployed. Von der Tann’s original design included an anti-torpedo net system. Torpedo nets came into common use during the 1890’s to protect anchored warships from the growing threat of torpedoes. Multiple horizontal booms were fixed (usually on swivel joints) to the side of the ship at regular intervals, a few feet above the waterline. At the end of this 40 foot boom, a heavy gauge, steel mesh net was suspended. The net hung down into the water far enough to prevent an incoming torpedo from hitting the hull of the ship. At 40 feet in length, the boom provided enough distance for a torpedo to explode against the net without damaging the ship. When preparing to get underway, the nets were hauled up, furled, and the booms collapsed against the ship’s hull. The whole thing was then secured for sea. Clearly – it was a cumbersome and somewhat primitive system. Not to mention the added weight of the nets and booms. Various tricks and strategies were devised to tactically defeat the nets, but by 1914, torpedo warheads had become powerful enough to damage the ship regardless of the net. During the Battle of Jutland, exposed torpedo nets suffered severe battle damage, and nets dragging alongside threatened to snag the ship’s propellers unless cut away and allowed to sink. Consequently, the Kaiserliche Marine removed them as quickly as possible. The crew of SMS Weissenburg recovering torpedo nets in preparation for getting underway. PROPULSION PLANT Von der Tann was the first German capital ship to have steam turbines installed. There were two sets of Parsons type turbines, one high pressure and one low pressure set, manufactured at the Blohm & Voss Engine Works. The high pressure turbines worked two outer shafts while the low pressure cruising turbines worked the two inner shafts. There were reversing arrangements on all four shafts. The forward and aft engine rooms were divided along the centreline by a longitudinal bulkhead. Steam was fed to the turbines by eighteen Schulz, double-ended, coal-fired, water-tube boilers arranged in five boiler rooms divided down the center with a longitudinal bulkhead. The boilers were a new, high capacity type developed for the Kaiserliche Marine by Blohm & Voss. Each boiler had four water drums and two steam drums, and were made from weight-saving materials. Twin rudders were mounted in parallel, on either side of the centreline, each driven by an auxiliary steam steering engine. In the event of damage, both rudders could be coupled to a single engine, or manually operated. The turbine system was quite innovative for the Kaiserliche Marine, and rather complex in their high pressure/low pressure arrangements. But the deciding issue had been their ability to develop much greater power than triple expansion engines, which had reached the limits of development. Von der Tann was designed for 42,000shp, providing 24.5 knots. Another view of Von der Tann passing through the breakwater. This angle gives you a different look at the arrangement of the main battery guns. German warships tended to be a bit wider amidships than ships in other navies – but that allowed for better placement of wing turret arcs of fire, room to provide more compartmentalization, and space to better protect the wing turret barbettes. Maximum coal bunker stowage was 2,756 tons, allowing a cruising radius of 4,400 miles at 14 knots. It should be mentioned that German capital ships suffered chronic problems with the often low quality coal provided to the fleet. The “After Action” reports of Captains frequently complained the low quality coal burned poorly, generated less heat in the boilers, and produced vast quantities of thick smoke that signaled their presence to the enemy. And there were occasions when the big ships were unable to keep all the boilers fired – the coal simply didn’t burn. Accordingly, arrangements for supplemental “oil-firing” were installed in 1916, along with 180 tons of oil. “Oil-firing”, as it was called, consisted of a “sprinkler system” inside the boiler firebox that sprayed tar-oil on top of coal -- thereby lighting boiler fires more quickly – and increasing the burn rate and temperature for added speed when underway. SHIP’S ARMAMENT SMS Von der Tann’s forward “A” turret on the forecastle deck. Note the two anchor capstans. If you look to the right of the turret, in the base of the bridge structure, you can see the casemates for two of the 3.5 inch anti-torpedo boat guns. There are no searchlights mounted on the foremast, and the two diamond-shaped objects on the signal halyards (right and left of the upper bridge) indicate they are at anchor. Since most of the figures in the picture are wearing work clothes, I suspect they are Blohm & Voss workmen, and Von der Tann is still completing sea trials – circa 1910. MAIN BATTERY The main battery armament of Von der Tann consisted of the well-tested and dependable 11-inch SK-L/45 (QF) high-velocity gun. The gun came into service in 1910, specifically designed to arm the Nassau Class (sometimes referred to as the Westfalen Class) battleships. Testing results at the firing range in Meppen were so positive, they were ordered for the new cruiser as well. Mounted in twin turrets, the guns were very well placed: “A” turret (Albert) forward on the forecastle deck – “B” turret (Berta) in the starboard “forward wing” position – “C” turret (Caesar) aft, and “D” turret (David) in the port “aft wing” position. By carefully positioning the turrets and superstructure, and keeping the “deck clutter” to an absolute minimum, Von der Tann’s designers enabled her to “cross-deck fire” with the midships “wing turrets”. This gave the new cruiser a full eight gun broadside on a rather wide firing arc – something Invincible was unable to do. I found a model of Von der Tann that perfectly illustrates the principle of cross-deck firing. Here you see both 11-inch wing turrets trained over the starboard broadside. Notice the turrets have fairly wide firing arcs – unobstructed by superstructure elements. Cross-deck fire is not recommended in all situations, or for all ships. The blast over-pressure will cause serious damage to the superstructure if the guns are too close. In some ships with light (or even medium) deck plating, the blast can buckle it as well as rip up the teak planking. Note: On this model, Von der Tann’s second funnel is painted red as a visual recognition device. Upon putting to sea, German warships painted the second funnel to ensure they did not fire on friendly ships. The gun houses (turrets) were electrically trained, with hydraulic elevation of the gun tubes. Each turret weighed approximately 430 tons with the working chamber and lower ammunition hoists built as part of the revolving structure (sometimes called a “basket”). In effect, there were two lower hoists (one for powder and one for shells) installed on the lower platform deck that moved shells up to the revolving working chambers of the lower turret level. From there, another pair of hoists would lift the shells and charges up into the gun house. This might, at first, sound cumbersome – but this “double hoist system” prevented an explosion in the gun chamber from flashing directly down the ammunition hoists and into the magazines. It also allowed the shells to be moved more quickly, resulting in an increased rate of fire of three rounds per minute. While the arrangement did not prevent all turret fires – no German capital ships were lost to magazine explosions. (The old pre-dreadnought battleship SMS Pommern was, in fact, lost at Jutland from an explosion – but that resulted from a torpedo hit directly beneath a magazine.) Beginning with the Imperial dreadnoughts, however, it became common practice to place the magazines no lower in the ship than the “lower platform deck”, to prevent mines or torpedoes setting off the magazines. The SK-L/45 gun could fire a 670 lb armor-piercing shell out to about 19,000 yards (increased to 20,400 yards in a 1915 refit). The shell was propelled by two charges – a “fore charge” of 58 lbs in a double silk bag – and a main charge of 175 lbs in a brass case. The brass case had two advantages; the Krupp guns used a horizontal “sliding wedge breech” sealed by the rear rim of the shell casing (obturator seal) – and “cased” charges were far less likely to burn or explode in an accident. The magazines stored 165 rounds per gun. The aft main battery turret of Von der Tann. This turret is trained over the starboard quarter. If you look past the rear of the turret, you can see the guns of the port wing turret trained over the port quarter. Looking to the right of the turret, you can just make out the guns of the starboard wing turret trained off the starboard bow. The forward turret will be trained over the port bow. This is a common combat tactic to ensure that any arc of the compass can be taken under fire immediately. Note the haze and fog making it impossible to see the horizon. Fire Control functions were carried out from the fore or aft conning towers, whose upper floors housed the Fire Control party with Zeiss 9-foot stereoscopic rangefinders mounted on the roof. Other, smaller rangefinders were installed in various locations, and after 1914, a crow’s nest Fire Control position was added to the foremast with yet another rangefinder. All fire control stations were connected to a Central Gunnery Control situated beneath the armored protective deck. Here, the Fire Control Team received data from the remote stations, calculated target information, and issued gun-laying orders to the “Turret Captains” via voice pipes, telephones, or electro-mechanical “repeaters”. When all turrets were “ready”, the Chief Gunnery Officer would fire the desired turrets from the forward conning tower station SECONDARY BATTERY This is a 3D model of Von der Tann’s port side amidships. This shows the torpedo nets secured for sailing, with the booms collapsed against the ship – excellent detail – complete with the rigging for the booms. This also shows details of the secondary battery 5.9-inch “turreted casemate” guns. They are, literally, a turret shield set inside an armored casemate. Note the “dead-lights” (light shafts) embedded in the deck. You can also see the boiler room air intakes – the louvered sections around the funnel superstructure. You will be seeing this model in-game. Unlike her British opposite number, Von der Tann followed the pattern of all German capital ships and carried a strong secondary battery. One lesson learned from the 1905 Battle Of Tsushima was that medium caliber guns were very effective against lightly armored or unprotected areas of ships – even battleships. And, at the closer range of medium-sized guns, spotting the fall of shot was not all that confusing (clearly visible difference in splash size). Ten 5.9-inch SK-L/45 (QF) high velocity, guns were mounted in MPL/06 casemates, five amidships on either beam. The guns, as usual, were mounted on the Battery Deck (main deck level) where they suffered during heavy seas or high speeds. As originally installed, they had a range of 13,500 yards, but after the action at Dogger Bank they were altered to allow a range of 16,800 yards. The gun crew of eight men had twin sighting telescopes on either side of the barrel, and could fire an approximately 100-lb shell, using a 30.2 lb RPC/12 powder charge in a brass cartridge case, at a sustained rate of 5 to 7 shells per minute. Magazine capacity allowed for 50 armor-piercing shells, and 100 head-fused high explosive rounds per gun. Each gun in the casemate battery had its’ own electric ammunition hoist. TERTIARY BATTERY This 3D picture shows the detail of the “notched” forecastle deck providing firing ports for the bow 3.5 inch ant-torpedo-boat guns. The guns in the bow have no shields and the hinged port shutters are shown open. Two more 3.5 inch can be seen with round shields set into the lower bridge superstructure. For defense against torpedo boats/destroyers, sixteen 3.5-inch SK-L/45 (QF) high-velocity guns were provided. Two were mounted forward, under the bow on either side, in shuttered hull casemates, two were in shield casemates in either side of the lower bridge structure, two more were mounted in shuttered casemates on either side of the stern, while the final four were mounted in pivot mounts with shields, atop the aft superstructure. The gun fired a 20 lb shell to about 12,000 yards at the rate of 15 rounds per minute, and was crewed by three men – a traversing/elevating man – a “sight-setter” – and a loader. A total of 200 shells per gun were carried – half head-fused high explosive, and half non-fused high explosive. (A head-fused HE shell would strike light armor, activate the fuse, penetrate, and then explode. Standard HE shells would explode on contact.) After the Battle Of Dogger Bank in 1915, it was realized these light guns were virtually useless against modern destroyers, and the casemate openings in the hull were merely another place for water to enter the ship. They were gradually removed and the casemates plated over. In this port side view, you can see how the “minimalist” superstructure was placed to great advantage. The raised forecastle deck merges into the forward bridge and funnel structure – a single funnel structure amidships (notice how the funnel housing is “angled” so as not to interfere with the firing arcs) – and the compact aft control position. TORPEDO ARMAMENT The Kaiserliche Marine’s tactical doctrine prior to the Great War, as envisioned by Grossadmiral Tirpitz, hypothesized the “Climactic Battle” would degenerate into a medium to short-range battle – and quite possibly a full scale melee. To take advantage of the close and brutal combat, all German capital ships carried a powerful medium gun armament and a strong torpedo armament. Von der Tann was equipped with four submerged 17.7-inch torpedo tubes – one fore and aft, and one on each beam. Eleven torpedoes were carried. The bow tube was built into a notch beneath the stem and fired directly ahead. The stern torpedo flat was on the Upper Platform Deck sandwiched between the two steering compartments, and fired directly astern from a notch cut in the centreline above the propellers. The “beam” torpedo flat was located just forward of “A” turret on the Lower Platform Deck. These torpedoes were to fire ahead with a fixed 4 degree downward tilt and an angle of 10 degrees off the ship’s beam. This was an era when the torpedo was still primitive, and gyroscopic guidance even more so – not to mention firing the torpedo into water racing past the hull at 20 knots or more. It’s small wonder they never seemed to hit anything – unless by accident. But the reality is -- submerged torpedo tubes were more danger to friend than foe. The bow torpedo flat occupied the entire space at the extremity of the ship on the “Hold Deck”. And slightly astern of that compartment, and one deck above (Lower Platform deck), was the beam torpedo flat. This occupied the entire width of the ship as well – wider and one deck higher. (Torpedoes were long and required room to be loaded into the tube.) This presents us with two large compartments forward of “A” turret that cannot be subdivided – and the armor belt thins-out approaching the bow. If those compartments flooded – for any reason – it could seriously effect the buoyancy of the bow. In a “worst case” scenario – a mine striking the hull at that location might detonate the torpedoes – and that would be catastrophic. One wonders why so much valuable space was wasted – and such risks taken – when they were of little or no practical combat value? This was an “Achilles Heel” that would come back to haunt her sister battlecruisers. This 3D shot shows the sharp “notch” in the forefoot beneath the bow (look directly below the second anchor) where the bow torpedo tube is. The torpedo is launched from the very bottom of the ship. If you also look at the hull bottom – just below the turret – you will see the opening in the hull for the “beam” torpedo tube. There is one on each side of the ship. This gives you some idea of how much of the bow is occupied by the two torpedo flats. ARMOR Due to the Naval High Command’s insistence the new cruiser be battle-line-capable, Von der Tann was designed with a particularly strong and extensive armor scheme. Her protection was only slightly less than the new Nassau Class dreadnought battleships and was based on their armor configuration. It was considered quite capable of withstanding the British 12-inch rifles and was specifically designed to be superior to HMS Invincible. In short – she was designed to survive and prevail in a slugging match. In the Design Department of the Kaiserliche Marine, the vertical side armor of a warship was divided into three distinct elements: the “main belt” extended from a few feet below the waterline to a few feet above the waterline -- the upper belt was referred to as the “citadel armor” and extended up to the Battery Deck – and the protection from the Battery Deck up to the main Weather Deck was referred to as the “casemate armor”. Regardless of the distinction, the demarcation between belt and citadel was not as evident in Von der Tann as other German warships. The armor on German ships of the period was, for the most part, quite extensive and very thick when compared to other navies. The ship was armored with Krupp Cemented Armor, face hardened with nickel steel. Von der Tann’s stern was unarmored up to the second longitudinal frame -- the very end only protected by the umbrella of the “protective armored deck”. From that point up to the stern barbette, the belt armor was 4 inches. From barbette to barbette, the midships was covered by a main belt of 10 inches, tapering to 6 inches at the lower edge. Forward of “A” turret barbette to the stem, the thickness was 4.9 inches, tapering to 4 inches at the bow. As was customary, the armor was mounted on a 2 inch backing of teak. The citadel armor (the next level up) ran from barbette to barbette with 8 inch thickness – increasing to 9 inches to give added protection in the area of the “wing turrets”. The belt armor on the sides was closed at the ends, similar to a box (the central citadel – stretching between the turret barbettes), with transverse bulkheads. At the very stern, the bulkhead was 4 inches, with another bulkhead at the aft barbette of 7 inches, and the bulkhead shielding the forward barbette was 8 inches tapering to 7 inches outboard. Another view of SMS Von der Tann coming through the Cuxhaven breakwater. The “protective armored deck”, unlike most warships, extended from stem to stern and in the vital midships area was 35 inches above the waterline. Beyond the stern barbette, the deck sloped toward the stern to just above the aft torpedo tube. Forward of “A” turret barbette the armored deck was 48 inches below the waterline and sloped downward until closed off by a transverse bulkhead. The horizontal parts of the armored deck varied considerably. Inside the midships “citadel” the deck was 1 inch thick, while astern it was 3.5 inches. Forward of the “citadel” to the stem it was 2 inches. The sloping sides of the protective armored deck were 2 inches, connected to the lower edge of the main belt armor. Armored gratings were placed inside the funnels, light shafts (“dead-lights” in the deck), and ventilation shafts. The casemate armor covered the space between the citadel armor belt up to the Upper Deck and was 5.9 inches thick. Two 15mm thick splinter bulkheads ran behind the area of the casemate guns, with each gun separated from the others by 20mm transverse bulkheads. The casemate 5.9-inch guns were protected by shields of 3.5 inches. The 3.5-inch “ant-torpedo boat guns in the forward and aft superstructures had 2-inch shields, while the guns mounted at the bow and stern had no shields. Von der Tann’s main battery turrets were also protected with Krupp Cemented Nickel Steel armor – turret faces 9.2 inches – sides and back 7.3 inches – sloping portion of roof 3.9 inches – flat roof 2.4 inches – inner gun house floor 4 inches. The forward turret barbette received 9.2 inches on the front – 8 inches on the side – and 6.9 inches in the rear. The stern turret barbette had 8 inches aft (on the turret facing direction) and on the sides, with 6.9 inches on the rear portion (the least likely side to be hit). The “wing turret” barbettes were a uniform 8 inches. All barbettes thinned as they reached down into the lower decks, where they were already protected by the various decks and side armor. The forward conning tower was protected with 10-inch armor on the front and sides, with 8.9 inches on the rear. The roof was 3.5 inches. The armored shaft stretching down to the Battery Deck housed all the command elements and had 8 inches on the front and sides, and 6 inches on the rear. The aft conning tower had 8 inches, with a 2-inch roof, and a 6 inch armored shaft. Unlike her foreign contemporaries, Von der Tann had the advantage of a built-in, armored torpedo bulkhead. This stretched from the forward barbette transverse bulkhead to the transverse bulkhead just aft of the stern barbette, with a thickness of 1 inch. The torpedo bulkhead was set inboard 12 feet from the outer hull. This space was divided in half by another bulkhead and the outer void was used as a longitudinal wing passage, while the inboard space, next to the torpedo bulkhead, was used as a coal bunker. Testing had shown that layers of coal inboard of the belt armor would absorb much of the blast and kinetic energy of shells that managed to penetrate. However, it should be noted that the protection afforded against mines and torpedoes was only marginally effective. By the time war broke out in 1914, the explosive charges of both devices had increased in size and power beyond anything anticipated by any navy. The new battlecruiser had many carefully conceived design features that set her apart from her foreign contemporaries, but the extensive and finely-tuned armor suite was a brilliant achievement in fast capital ships. Fisher’s battlecruisers had little armor to speak of, while battleships were loaded down with the weight. But Von der Tann’s armor was balanced and carefully positioned to do the most good. Her underwater protection was improved enormously by the transverse bulkheads forming her fifteen watertight compartments. Each bulkhead reached from the keel to the upper deck and, for the most part, they had few openings. Within these large “watertight compartments” were numerous, small, watertight subdivisions (basically smaller compartments) designed to limit the degree and extent of flooding. Even her coal bunkers were incorporated into the defensive system. She was, simply put, a marvel of engineering science – and would come as a great surprise to the Royal Navy. SMS Von der Tann is seen here, taking on coal from the collier SS Gotha while moored in Schillig Roads – circa 1913. Two Passat Class tugs stand by ahead and amidships, while an old Nordwind Class waits astern. When Von der Tann’s bunkers are full, they will warp the collier off and move to their next assignment. The battlecruiser, by Barroco Hispano – and the collier, by “AP” – make an interesting contrast. Both models are made to scale and yet, the high-sided collier towers over the low silhouette of the warship. German designers went to great lengths to make sure their battlecruisers had very little superstructure, a low freeboard, and presented as small a target as possible. Same scene from a different angle. Note the MMP work along the sandy shore. The collier, tugs, and mooring dolphins in the picture are the work of “AP”. From this angle, you can see the smaller and much more narrow hull of the collier beside the low, squat, wider hull of the battlecruiser. The wider beam of the warship is a deliberate design feature and provides a much more stable gun platform. Here is a detail shot of both ships. The amount of detail on the models is absolutely amazing. And the amount of research and detail that went into “AP’s” collier is simply unbelievable. For example -- SS Gotha is flying the National Merchant Jack at the bow, with the Imperial Commercial flag at the stern. And if you look closely at the second cargo derrick, you will see the “House Flag” of the Norddeutscher Line flying at the peak. For those of you wondering what was packed into Von der Tann’s various decks (6 in all), let’s just say that above the armored deck were the essential “services and amenities” of the warship: officer’s cabins and crew quarters – bathrooms and showers – laundry and drying areas – bakeries – several galleys and various “messing” arrangements (the Kaiserliche Marine was very “class conscious” when it came to dining arrangements). In short, the “nuts and bolts” services needed to feed and house over 900 men. Not to mention war-like things such as wireless rooms – transformer rooms – pharmacy – gunnery control apparatus – communication stations, etc, etc. Those are just a tiny sampling of all the “topside” things warships need. But below the Battery Deck, down where the light has to be electric, the world is entirely different. Beneath the Battery Deck lies the beating heart of the ship – the boiler rooms and engine rooms – where everything is either hot and dirty, or loud and in motion. The boiler rooms begin aft of “A” turret, with three stretching back to the starboard wing turret. Here there is a narrow gap running the width of the ship to accommodate the turret barbette, magazines, a damage control room, and a battle navigation room. This is followed by two more boiler rooms stretching back to the port wing turret. Here, there is another narrow, cross-hull, gap for the barbette and magazines -- and from there back to “C” turret are the steam turbine engine rooms. Basically, almost everything below the waterline is occupied by the propulsion plant. The beauty of the German design is that the compartment wall of all those boiler and engine rooms is the anti-torpedo bulkhead. It stretches from the forward turret barbette to the stern turret barbette -- the entire length of the engine and boiler spaces. And on the outboard side of that bulkhead is a 6-foot-thick layer of protective coal. Together with the various armor belts on the outer hull, it is one of the most efficient uses of space and best defensive arrangement of any warship. It should be mentioned the decision to go with steam turbines was the catalyst that made the fusion of guns, speed, and adequate armor possible. The turbine installation’s lighter weight, and the lighter weight of the Blohm & Voss boilers, produced more than enough ship horsepower to carry the brilliantly balanced armor suite at the desired speed. The steam turbine installation had not been tested in a German capital ship, and had they chosen not to accept the risk – Von der Tann would have been a quite different warship. Von der Tann was specifically designed to fight the British Invincible Class battlecruisers, and her designers ensured she would have every possible advantage – especially in “staying power”. Her armor protection was conceived to withstand the power of the British 12-inch guns, while her eight-gun 11-inch broadside was considered to be equal, if not superior, to her opponent. And Von der Tann’s beam was 8.5 feet wider, giving her significant advantages in stability, compartmentalization, and underwater protection. A simple glance at the two ship’s side armor says it all. Von der Tann had a main belt of 10 inches, a citadel belt of 8 inches, and a battery belt of 5.9 inches. The Invincible and Indefatigable Classes had a 6-inch main belt – nothing else. Within mere minutes of opening fire at Jutland in 1916, Von der Tann sent Indefatigable to the bottom in a massive explosion. SMS Von der Tann at sea during the Great War. SMS Derfflinger can be see at left in the background. German Naval Airships (Zeppelins) were frequently used as the air reconnaissance arm of the Hochseeflotte. They could stay aloft for long periods of time and were able to fly above the ceiling of the primitive anti-aircraft guns of the day. NEXT TIME…… THE NAVAL ARMS RACE & VON der TANN AT WAR I DID TRY to keep this short, but the essential details of the design and construction were crucial to understanding the importance of this ship in the larger context. MANY THANKS to @Barroco Hispano for his beautifully detailed warships. SPECIAL THANKS to my collaborating partner, @AP, for his considerable hard work, dedication, and vivid imagination. If you enjoyed anything you saw – please punch the “like” button so I will know. A comment would be even more informative. Comments and critiques requested and gratefully accepted. All questions answered promptly to the best of my 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 https://community.simtropolis.com/forums/topic/761469-simtropolis-shipyard/?tab=comments#comment-1766496

HMS Lion (flagship 1st Battlecruiser Squadron) On her way to a fateful rendezvous north of Dogger Bank, 23 January 1915. Note a screening destroyer in foreground. IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: CUXHAVEN By: Dreadnought & AP Chapter 13: DEATH OF A HYBRID Panzerkreuzer of 1st Scouting Group at sea. The ship on the left is SMS Derfflinger. Note the rough seas and the heavy clouds of funnel smoke that would be visible for miles. In early January 1915, German light forces patrolling the Dogger Bank discovered British light forces were also conducting regular patrols in the area. No doubt they planned to harass German patrols and detect possible bombardment forces bound for England. Admiral von Ingenohl was reluctant to intervene because Von der Tann was in dry dock for regular maintenance. However, Konteradmiral Richard Eckermann (Chief of Staff of the Hochseeflotte) kept insisting this enemy activity on their very “doorstep” be dealt with. Von Ingenohl finally relented and ordered Admiral Hipper to take his Panzerkreuzer out to Dogger Bank. With the afternoon tide on 23 January, Hipper sortied, with Seydlitz (flagship) in the lead, followed by Moltke, Derfflinger, and reinforced by Blucher (taking Von der Tann’s place), accompanied by the light cruisers Rostock and Graudenz in the forward screen, and the light cruisers Kolberg and Stralsund assigned to starboard and port. Each light cruiser had a half-flotilla of destroyers attached (18 in total). Hipper planned to appear off Dogger Bank at first light and throw his big ships at the British light forces – “like a cat amongst the pigeons” – and see how many pigeons he could bag. The German Squadron – Front to back: SMS Seydlitz (flagship) – SMS Moltke – SMS Derfflinger __ SMS Blucher. (The model of Derfflinger is courtesy of @Barroco Hispano – all others are the work of @AP.) Once again, “Room 40” in the Admiralty, though unable to get a complete picture, provided enough advance warning for the British to be prepared for Hipper. Beatty was to take the 1st Battlecruiser Squadron -- HMS Lion (flagship), Tiger, and Princess Royal. The 2nd Battlecruiser Squadron – HMS New Zealand and Indomitable. And the 1st Light Cruiser Squadron – HMS Southampton, Birmingham, Lowestoft, and Nottingham. It was also arranged for the “Harwich Force” of light cruisers (HMS Aurora, Arethusa, Undaunted) and 35 destroyers to rendezvous with Beatty at 08:00 on 24 January. The British Squadron -- Front to back: HMS Lion – HMS Princess Royal – HMS Tiger – HMS New Zealand – HMS Indomitable. All models courtesy of Barroco Hispano. THE DEBACLE AT DOGGER BANK With the rising sun, the cruiser HMS Aurora opens the Battle of Dogger Bank. In the dawn haze of 24 January, around 07:14, SMS Kolberg spotted the light cruiser HMS Aurora accompanied by several destroyers. Aurora flashed on her searchlight, whereupon Kolberg opened fire and hit her three times. Aurora returned fire and scored two hits. Hearing the gunfire, Hipper immediately swung the battlecruisers to close Kolberg’s position. Within seconds, SMS Stralsund, screening several miles off the port quarter, sighted and reported a large smoke cloud to the northwest of her position. Some minutes later, this was identified as a number of large British warships closing on Hipper’s squadron from the west. (Again – we see the value of scouting forces and most especially the value of timely sighting reports being passed to the flagship.) Hipper instantly realized the proximity of such a large force indicated the likelihood of additional forces in the area – a notion confirmed by wireless intercepts indicating the approach of the British 2nd Battlecruiser Squadron. This further indicated the possibility the Grand Fleet might be no more than an hour astern of these ships. Just as quickly, another report was received from SMS Blucher, which had opened fire on a light cruiser and several destroyers coming up from astern. Hipper smelled a trap – and he was in it! SMS Blucher opens fire on the British scouting cruisers coming up from astern. The Panzerkreuzer were in a line spread in echelon to port, with the British approaching from the rear and southwest. The wind was coming in from the northeast and would blow huge clouds of funnel smoke down in front of the British, who were already going to be partially obscured by the morning darkness and haze to the west. This would make shooting very difficult for Hipper’s already outnumbered force. Caught in a trap, and disadvantaged by funnel smoke, Hipper turned south to make a run for it. Unfortunately, he was hindered by Blucher’s 23-knot speed (her bottom had not been cleaned lately). Around 07:32, Stralsund sent a second sighting report – four battlecruisers closing from the west. This confirmed Hipper’s worst fears. The British battlecruisers in pursuit were making 27 knots and quickly closed the range. HMS Lion (leading) opened fire on the trailing Blucher at 08:52, at a range of 20,000 yards. Soon after, HMS Princess Royal and Tiger joined in. Around 09:09, the first British 13.5-inch shell struck Blucher. SMS Blucher around 10:09 taken under fire by HMS Lion, Princess Royal, and Tiger. (Claus Bergen) Approximately 09:12, the Panzerkreuzer returned fire, mostly concentrating on Lion, the closest target at 18,000 yards. Around 09:25 a 13.5-inch shell from Lion struck Seydlitz on the forecastle deck, with minor damage. Lion was first struck at 09:28, on the waterline, opening a hole and flooding a coal bunker. Almost at the same time an 8.3-inch shell from Blucher hit Lion’s forward turret – failing to penetrate the armor – but the concussive force disabled the left gun. Two minutes later, HMS New Zealand (fourth in line) came into range and opened on Blucher as well. Panzerkreuzer return fire around 10:12 – Right to left – Seydlitz, Derfflinger, Moltke. Around 09:35 the distance had dropped to 17,500 yards and the entire German line was within gun range, so Beatty hoisted a flag signal to “engage opposite number”. (Basically – leading British ship to engage leading German ship – an effective means to damage all enemy ships, while harassing their return fire.) Around 09:40, Lion landed a 13.5-inch in the fantail of Seydlitz, which holed the deck and struck the rear barbette in the “tweendecks” spaces. The shell failed to penetrate the barbette, but the blast effects managed to ignite the propellant charges inside the handling chamber. The flash carried on through a connecting door to the superfiring turret as well – killing both gun crews (159 men) and burning out the interior spaces of the barbettes. Both rear turrets were destroyed, but quick action flooded the magazines and saved the ship. Seydlitz later took a final shell in the midships armor belt with little damage. HMS Lion’s 13.5-inch shell punched a hole in the “D” turret barbette of SMS Seydlitz and the resulting fire burned-out both stern turrets. You see here the flames from the powder fires rising high into the air, but the magazines were flooded, preventing the loss of the ship. By 09:55 the Panzerkreuzer had gotten Lion’s range and began to score regular hits. About 10:01 an 11-inch shell from Seydlitz struck Lion and knocked out two of her electrical dynamos. At 10:18 Derfflinger hit Lion with two 12-inch shells, one of which penetrated her armor belt. The shell opened a large hole along the waterline causing flooding, and eventually allowing seawater to contaminate the port feed tank to the boilers and condensers. This damage would soon cripple Lion when they were forced to shut down the engines because of salt water contamination. Another 11-inch shell landed at 10:41, piercing the barbette armor of “A” turret. The shell, miraculously, caused little damage, but the magazine had been partially flooded as a precaution. By 10:52, Lion had been hit 14 times and taken on some 3,000 tons of water, which caused her to list 10 degrees to port, and reduced her speed to 15 knots. SMS Blucher under a withering fire from HMS Lion, Princess Royal, Tiger, and New Zealand. SMS Blucher was severely damaged by 10:00, having been pounded by many heavy shells from four British battlecruisers. The armored cruiser had several main battery turrets out of action, her steering gear jammed, one engine room flooded, and a large fire amidships. But Seydlitz, Derfflinger, and Moltke had concentrated their fire on HMS Lion with some success – two of her three dynamos were disabled, and the port side engine room was flooded. Around 10:48, HMS Indomitable arrived and was directed by Beatty to finish off Blucher. Her battered and burning hulk was already listing heavily to port. HMS Indomitable engaging the heavily damaged Blucher. A Survivor of Blucher’s crew later told what he saw as the 12-inch Lyddite shells crashed inboard… ”The shells...bored their way even to the stokehold. The coal in the bunkers caught fire – and being half empty – the fire burned fiercely. In the engine room a shell kicked up the oil and sprayed it around in flames of blue and green...The terrific blast pressure in the confined space roared through every opening and tore its way through every weak spot...Men were picked up by that terrific pressure and tossed to a horrible death among the machinery.” I quoted this passage because it so vividly describes the all too human experience of war at sea. SMS Blucher, heavily engaged by the British battlecruisers, is listing to port and her fantail is a sea of fire. Numerous fires have been started all over the ship and her upper works have been devastated by numerous large and medium caliber shells. SMS Moltke can just be seen in line ahead of her. Suddenly, one of the British light forces signaled a “periscope sighting” and Beatty immediately ordered evasive maneuvers. The ensuing twists and turns among the British allowed Hipper to increase the distance between his ships and the enemy. (This was a common problem with the British – they saw periscopes everywhere – and it always resulted in them breaking off an action, or their target getting away in the confusion.) Lion’s last operational dynamo chose this moment to fail and the ship’s speed dropped below 15 knots. Beatty, unable to pursue in Lion, signaled the remaining battlecruisers to “engage the enemy’s rear”. He obviously wanted them to continue the pursuit and destruction of the German squadron. But faulty wording of the flag signal caused all the battlecruisers to engage Blucher! (The incompetent Lieutenant Ralph Seymour strikes yet again!) SMS Blucher – A smoking, flaming, wreck – with British destroyers approaching from the left. SMS Blucher resisted stubbornly. Though badly mangled, with flames raging, she repulsed attacks by four light cruisers and four destroyers – but the light cruiser HMS Aurora managed to hit her with two torpedoes. Blucher’s only remaining main battery was the aft turret, which continued to fire on anything that entered the firing arcs. Finally, a volley of seven more torpedoes were fired at point-blank range and the ship capsized to port at 12:13. During the course of the battle, Blucher is estimated to have been hit by 70 to 100 large caliber shells and (possibly) nine torpedoes. Blucher could not have survived the engagement – but German engineering had made her damned hard to sink! An artist’s conception of Blucher rolling to port as crewmen scramble down her starboard side and into the frigid waters of the North Sea. The Periscope sighting, signal confusion, Beatty being sidelined when Lion was damaged -- all contributed to Hipper escaping with Seydlitz, Moltke, Derfflinger, and his light forces. But it is a matter of great debate as to who actually out-fought who. Seydlitz had taken 3 hits, with both stern turrets out of action. Derfflinger had taken 3 hits with only minimal damage. Moltke had been spared with only a few scratches on her paint work. Lion was hit 17 times and crippled. Tiger was hit 7 times with “Q” turret out of action. Indomitable had been hit once, with minimal damage. Princess Royal and New Zealand were undamaged. The Kaiserliche Marine’s gunnery was, as usual, far superior to the English. The Panzerkreuzer fired 200 fewer shells and scored four times as many hits as the Royal Navy. (Records do not indicate how many shells were fired at – or missed -- the stationary Blucher, though recorded hits vary between 70 and 100 rounds.) An actual photograph taken as the stricken armored cruiser rolls onto her port side. Hundreds of sailors attempt to save themselves by clinging to the rolling hull. Official German archives list 792 dead from a crew of 853. As a group, historians have tended to focus on Blucher’s misfortune in being assigned to take Von der Tann’s place in the battle line – or the cataclysmic nature of her destruction. But mostly they focus on the simple fact that the Germans lost a capital ship and the British did not (score-keeping). Few analysts (if any) have realized the most significant feature of her loss – the British, with all their ships – had a great deal of trouble sending her to the bottom. During the course of the three hour engagement, Blucher had trailed the German battle line, her speed dropping gradually as the damage increased. And her position in line guaranteed she would receive fire from each of the five British battlecruisers as they came within range. As the battle progressed the British took other German ships under fire as they came within range, but Blucher never received a moment’s respite. At times, only a single battlecruiser fired on Blucher, while at other times there were two or even three. At one point Beatty had ordered HMS Indomitable to “finish her off”. Then, due to confused signaling toward the end of the battle, all five of the battlecruisers took her under fire once more. HMS Indomitable towing the crippled HMS Lion home at 12 knots – repairs would be extensive. The reports of the ship’s Gunnery Officers have not survived, in their entirety, in the Admiralty Archives, while Blucher’s survivors had little knowledge of the matter – and the “hard evidence” lies at the bottom of the North Sea. Consequently, there is no record of how many shells were fired at Blucher, but it was estimated between 70 and 100 rounds of 12-inch and 13.5-inch actually struck the target. It is, indeed, a wide-ranging number – but a true testament to the strength of Blucher’s Krupp armor, and the designer’s skill in creating the warship. Judging by damage reports after Jutland (1916), the average British battlecruiser could be sunk with anywhere between 3 and 14 hits by heavy caliber shells. German battlecruisers, on the other hand, were made of sterner stuff. SMS Derfflinger suffered 17 heavy caliber hits and returned to base under her own steam – earning the British nickname of the “Iron Dog”. SMS Seydlitz was struck by 21 large caliber shells and one torpedo – but stubbornly refused to sink and reached Wilhelmshaven. SMS Lutzow was the only “dreadnought” warship lost by the Germans at Jutland. She was hit by 27 large caliber shells – many of them 15-inch -- from Rear Admiral Sir Evan-Thomas’ 5th Battle Squadron of fast Queen Elizabeth Class battleships. And Blucher, after all that punishment, could only be put down with a spread of torpedoes. Rather then simply tallying-up the score of ships sunk, the British would have done well to consider why the “hybrid cruiser” had absorbed so much damage and still had a working gun turret when she went down. The logical implications might have been chilling. In the end, SMS Blucher was lost. Too slow to outrun the British battlecruisers, she was caught and, literally, shot to pieces. Her slow speed prevented Hipper from getting away at full speed early on – and actually endangered the entire squadron. The 1905 decision not to incorporate steam turbines in Blucher’s design had finally come full circle. Von Ingenohl should never have attached her to the Panzerkreuzer Squadron. She was bigger than any armored cruiser, and tempted operational commanders to employ her with bigger ships. But she was NOT big enough nor fast enough to be a battlecruiser. “Neither fish, nor fowl” – she paid the price for von Ingenohl’s poor judgment. He forgot she was no more fit to lie in the line of battle in 1915, than a frigate had been in 1815. Needless to say, Admiral von Ingenohl was sacked within days of Hipper’s return to the Jade. SIDEBAR During the early phase of the Battle of Dogger Bank, SMS Seydlitz came under fire from HMS Lion. The first shell to strike the Panzerkreuzer landed at 10:25 on the forecastle deck, resulting in a hole, with some blast damage to the compartments below, on the Battery Deck. Some eighteen minutes later (10:43), a second 13.5-inch shell from Lion hit the Fantail Deck aft, passing through the deck and into the “Between Deck” spaces before striking the “D” turret barbette. The 1,300-lb shell struck a glancing blow and did not penetrate the 9-inch Krupp, face-hardened, nickel-steel armor of the barbette. No enemy shell parts were ever found inside the barbette spaces or working chambers. However, an armor-piercing shell traveling at high velocity – with a large bursting charge -- generates enormous heat when it strikes thick armor. If the kinetic energy is sufficient, it can turn the armor plate white hot. In the case of Seydlitz, the kinetic blast effect caused “spalling” on the inside of the barbette and sent a large chunk of red-hot metal into the working chamber – igniting the “main” and “fore” powder charges stored there. German “brass-cased” main charges would only burn at extreme temperature, while the “bagged” fore charges burned readily and fiercely. But – unlike British powder charges – they did NOT explode. An intense blue flame shot up into the gun house and down through the elevator shafts, igniting charges in the turret, on the handling room turntable, and in the elevator room. Later, it was found that charges still sealed inside their storage containers had not burned. With the first sign of “flash” and poisonous gases, the “D” turret handling room crew tried to save themselves by passing through a double door arrangement into the handling room of “C” turret. Investigation later determined they only managed to open the first door before the burning gasses forcefully blew the second door open. With both doors open, the flames raced into the working chambers of “C” turret and the whole grizzly scene repeated itself. In just a matter of seconds, some 6,000kg (6.5 tons) of powder had gone up in smoke, completely burning-out both aft turrets. The flash-blast shot upward, peeling back the thin turret roof plates, and sent smoke and flame shooting mast-high. From the bridge, it looked and sounded like a volcano. Out of the two turret crews, four men survived – all extensively burnt – except one gun loader with light scorching and some cuts and bruises. A total of 165 men perished – virtually instantly. Within seconds, Chief Artillerie Offizier Richard Foerster had realized Seydlitz was on the verge of destruction – and ordered the aft magazines flooded. SMS Seydlitz would remain in dockyard hands until 1 April 1915, having her burnt-out turrets replaced and other battle damage repaired, before rejoining 1st Scouting Group. Forgive us – but you’ll have to use your imagination just a bit for the next few pictures. It would have been tyrannical of me to ask “AP” to create “damaged” versions of the various warships to populate repair scenes. SMS Seydlitz is tied up at the repair docks in Cuxhaven, undergoing extensive repairs to her two burnt-out aft turrets. The damaged turret assemblies have been lifted out by "Langer Heinrich" -- the largest floating crane in the world. The interior of the barbette trunks have been refurbished, and newly assembled gun turrets have been brought alongside on barges. The first gunhouse is being hoisted aboard. In this detail shot, a machinists shop barge has been secured alongside Seydlitz to handle the myriad of drilling, bending, and punching required to cast and tool many of the repair parts and structural braces required to rebuild the barbette interiors and the damage to surrounding compartments. The steam tug Goliath stands by to assist. In the lower right, you see the motor lighter Ajax bringing in assorted spare parts and assemblies that may be required. A barge has been brought alongside with various assemblies – a gunhouse with a working chamber and another lower trunk working chamber assembly. A Thor Class tug holds the barge in place. The crane in the process of lifting a turret assembly is the “Langer Heinrich” – the largest floating crane in the world in 1915. “Heinrich” is self-propelled, but is so slow she is usually towed around to save time. A Nordwind and Thor Class tug wait attendance on the big crane. (You have a pretty good view of Seydlitz’ aft turrets – just pretend they’re not there.) Another view of the repairs in progress. The stern just visible at the top of the picture belongs to a Prometheus Class collier, while the ship moored next to her is a Proteus Class collier (sometimes referred to as a Jupiter Class). They were both US Navy colliers from 1913. The sheds on the machinists barge are from “Nob’s 1905 Naval Series” – while the steam tug Goliath is courtesy of Barroco Hispano. The pier-side cranes, colliers, battlecruiser, floating crane, barges, motor lighter, tugboats, and small boat – are the work of the talented "AP". BONUS SIDEBAR When “AP” published “Volume 11 of Historic Harbors 1900”, I had forgotten he included the model of SMS Blucher in the dry dock -- with scaffolding erected. That was actually just a “test” model we were working with to try and figure out how to make a “genuine” dry dock. Consequently, I did not prepare a scene in the dockyard for that model. However, since you have already downloaded it – it only seemed proper that I include some pictures to demonstrate what could be achieved. This is an overview of the dry dock area with all the necessary elements – warehouses, rail lines, foundries, machine shops, cranes, etc, etc. This model of Blucher is not “waterline only” – it’s a “full hull” rendering – just as you would see on any warship in a dry dock. We did not go to great lengths to show the ship in a state of “construction” (partial superstructure – missing turrets – etc, etc). It was, after all, just a test model we only spent a couple of days working with. But if you examine Blucher, you will note that it could plausibly be portrayed as a ship constructed in a dry dock that has reached the “fitting-out” stage – or -- is just in dry dock for minor repairs and a bottom-cleaning and paint job. In this shot, you will notice the huge Cantilever Crane (250 ton lift capacity) and several Port Cranes (150 ton capacity) arranged on both sides of the dry dock. The Port Cranes are on tracks and can be moved up and down the dock as needed. The massive Cantilever Crane is fixed in position and has a limited lateral movement capability. During the later “fitting-out” stages, if a heavy lift was needed at Blucher’s bow, the dock would have to be flooded and tugs would move the ship far enough under the crane to effect the heavy lift. (Cantilever and Port Cranes by “AP”.) Another view – this one showing the scaffolding erected around Blucher’s hull. It simply amazes me to see “AP’s” detailed work on the scaffolding, while imagining the amount of time it must have taken him. Yet another view. At the top of the picture you can just make out the fine detailing “AP” included on the rear of the dry dock lock gates. Port side view. Here you can see that the roof of the starboard, aft wing turret has been lifted off to facilitate work on the gun cradles and recoil buffer mechanism. You can also see numerous working details on the floor of the dry dock around the big ship. When work was in progress, dry dock floors were littered with all sorts of supplies, machine parts, tools, “junk”, and almost anything you can imagine. On the right of the picture, you have a clear view of the “buffer” timbers placed beneath the hull of the ship. The timbers are cut to fit the general hull form of a ship and are bolted to the floor of the dock. The ship’s keel rests on these cushioning timbers rather than the concrete or stone floor of the dock. At various points along the bilge line of the hull, smaller timber “blocks” will be stacked up to support the outer edges of the lower hull. Exactly where to place the support blocks is determined from the ship’s plan drawings by marine engineers. These are bolted in place before the dock is flooded and the ship is floated in. Once the water is drained, the ship will come to rest on the stacked blocks and the keel support beams. Without the stacked blocks the ship would tilt to one side or another as the water was removed. Also – without the supporting blocks and timbers, the immense weight of the ship would damage or distort the hull plating. In this shot, you see the ship’s anchor chains laid out beside the ship. Whenever a ship is taken into dock for several days, the anchor chains are removed for inspection, repair, and cleaning. When a ship puts to sea, her anchor is hoisted from the seabed and winched inboard by the capstans on the forecastle deck. The enormously long chains are stored in “chain lockers”, below deck in the bow. Normally, the anchor party uses a seawater pump to hose down the chain as it goes into the “hawse hole” at the bow – where the anchor is secured for sea. During dry docking, these chain lockers are also cleaned out to remove bits of mud, vegetation, and even the odd crustacean that finds its way inside. Another view of Blucher. In the left lower corner of the picture you can see another work party repairing, cleaning, and re-painting Blucher’s 8-ton anchors. This should give you a good idea of just how much work goes on in a docking area. Everywhere you look – people are going about a hundred different tasks. And last – but certainly not least – the magnificent dry dock gates modeled by @AP. The gates were patterned after those used on the old Panama Canal. For such a simple structure, it took us several days to get the shape, size, and exact placement worked out. Once that was done with a test model – “AP” worked his magic and turned out a superbly detailed set of gates. The colors, texture, and detailing – even the “rusty look” of the gates -- is stunning! Along with this Chapter, "AP" has published TWO prop packs -- Paddle Wheel Tugboats and Colliers -- see below for a link. NEXT TIME…… BIRTH OF THE IMPERIAL GERMAN BATTLECRUISER But – let’s look at something else…… The West Loch is the assigned anchorage of the III Scouting Group of the Hochseeflotte. The group is composed of 9 older armored cruisers, 5 protected cruisers, 2 light cruisers, and a flotilla of 12 torpedo boats (for screening purposes). This scouting group is, of course, fictitious. Historically, the III Scouting Group was a temporary, ad-hoc, unit created for special purposes (The US Navy would call it a “task force”). I have put it into the game to showcase the Imperial armored cruisers and their part in the evolutionary chain leading to battlecruisers. Here you see two views of the destroyer anchorage. I have chosen to use destroyers rather then torpedo boats in the West Loch. As a matter of record, the Kaiserliche Marine did not have “destroyers”, as such. The term “destroyer” comes from the longer “torpedo-boat-destroyer”, and was coined by Admiral Jackie Fisher. Fisher increased the gun armament on British torpedo boats to make them more able to deal with German torpedo boats. The gun armament of both British and German boats remained pretty much the same – three or four guns of 3.5-inch or 4-inch. But the Imperial torpedo boats were more attack-oriented and carried six to eight torpedo tubes, while the British boats were mostly defensive and carried only two to four tubes. The British “destroyer” was meant to keep the German “torpedo boat” away from the battle fleet. This is a closer view of the mooring arrangements and the land-based support infrastructure. If you examine the picture carefully, you can see a wide variety of activity -- formations of sailors, sailors unloading trucks, more sailors handling cargo, etc, etc. The Quonset huts are from the “PEG SNM Naval Series”. The pier-side offices are re-purposed from an “SFBT” rail signal box. The whole layout is largely composed of various custom-made 1x1 filler lots, with additional 1x1 fillers from the “T-Wrecks IMR Industrial Set”. The pavement is Paeng’s Grunge Concrete – some of them modified for cargo, sailors, vehicles, etc, etc. The “floating landings” were taken from one of the “PEG Marina Sets” and attached to a modified “NBVC Marina Seawall”. If you look closely at the center pier, you will see an Admiral being greeted with a “side party”. He is about to board one of the destroyers on an inspection tour. A “Midgard Class” tug is tied-up at the end of the first pier, and a motor launch is hove-to off another. The tugs, motor launch, and sailors are by “AP”. This is a close-up of an area around one of the Quonset huts. The lots are all 1x1 fillers – some by “T-Wrecks” – but mostly my custom-made lots. As you can see, there are sailors all over the place – some by “PEG” and the rest by “AP”. The props on the lots are generally found in “Lot Editor”, but the really good stuff has been created by @AP – the anchors next to the hut – rope coils (a common sight around docks) – the Atlantic Fenders (another common sight – almost anywhere you look in a harbor). Note that “AP’s” props are very “Hi-def”. “AP” is very familiar with the sights around a harbor, and he has gone to great efforts to provide the props necessary to create a realist environment. Some may be a bit on the “modern” side – but they fill in a gap – usually where historical information is simply not available. In this scene, you see an Asgard and an Odin Class tug “nested” along the diagonal seawall – both by “AP”. And just above them is a storage warehouse for “Atlantic Fenders”. The warehouse on the “lumber lot” is from the Maxis Industrial props. This is a close-up of the “Atlantic Fender” storage facility. The “Atlantic Fender” is actually a modern invention, though the concept has been around for centuries. The fender is just that – a fender. Any time a ship (small or large) moors at a dock – or “nests” with another ship – these large, rubber, “pontoons” are placed between the ship’s hull and the dock (or the other ship) to prevent damage. The variety shown is made of a very thick rubber, and part of the interior is filled with water to ballast it down, so that half will be below water. This keeps the fender upright, even when floating, and ensures it will not “pop” to the surface like a balloon. During the Kaiser’s time, the device would likely have been a long, thick, piece of timber wrapped with several layers of canvas, and suspended from the ship or dock. The warehouses are from “Nob’s 1905 Japanese Naval Base Series”. USS Clemson Class destroyer: 1,215 tons – 35.5 knots – 4x4-inch guns – 1x3-inch gun – 12x21-inch torpedo tubes – armor: none. She was the lead ship of a class of 111 ships. (It was a very large class – and there were slight variations between “batches”.) Commissioned in 1919, she saw no active service in WW I. However, Clemson’s design was an incremental improvement over the preceding Wickes and Caldwell Classes that did serve during the Great War. Clemson was visually quite similar to her sisters. I chose to use the Clemson’s for two reasons (1) I had a beautiful 3-D model, and (2) at age eight, I built my first plastic model kit – the USS Clemson. Because they were long, thin, very fast, and had a single weather deck from stem to stern, they were referred to as “flush-deck four-stackers”. They tended to roll in any sort of seaway, and their weather decks were soaking wet at high speed – but they were fast, packed a lethal punch – and destroyer captains loved them. They had, for the most part, long and active careers and did yeoman service in WW II when fifty of the class were loaned to Great Britain. This beautifully detailed model is courtesy of Barroco Hispano. I took his model, converted it to a prop, and created the “nesting” lots – a common mooring method with all destroyers. “AP’s” props are all over this picture, but the detail on the two tugs is exceptional. I never dreamed tugs could be this fascinating! I never thought I would hear the word “beautiful” linked with a tug boat – but in this case – it is appropriate! Here is a nice shot of a destroyer “division” hove-to off “Gull Rocks”. For those of you interested in destroyers, rocks, and disasters – go to Wikipedia and search for “Honda Point Disaster 1923”. A classic example of command incompetence and “Murphy’s Law”. LINKS FOR NEW PROP PACKS...... MANY THANKS to @Barroco Hispano for his many beautiful and highly detailed warships. SPECIAL THANKS to my collaborating partner @AP” for volunteering his talent and very hard work creating so many beautiful and wonderfully detailed models. The Cuxhaven Series would be impossible without him. If you enjoyed anything you saw – please punch the “like” button so I will know. A comment would be even more informative. Comments and critiques requested and gratefully accepted. All questions answered promptly to the best of my 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 https://community.simtropolis.com/forums/topic/761469-simtropolis-shipyard/?tab=comments#comment-1766496

SMS Deutschland riding at anchor in the Kieler Hafen – circa 1910 – 13,191 tons – 19.1 knots – 4x11-inch guns – 14x6.7-inch guns – 22x3.5-inch guns – 6x17.7-inch torpedo tubes – belt armor 9.4 inches. This was the last class of pre-dreadnought battleships commissioned into the Kaiserliche Marine. IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: CUXHAVEN By: Dreadnought & AP Chapter 10: NEITHER FISH NOR FOWL With the appearance of HMS Dreadnought in 1906, the entire face of naval architecture changed over night. Admiral Tirpitz (Secretary Of State for the Navy) was confronted with the ugly fact that five ships of the new Deutschland Class pre-dreadnought battleships, (four of them still fitting-out) were now obsolete. And, for all practical purposes, no longer fit to lie in the line of battle. In fact, the Kaiserliche Marine had no battleships capable of standing against a “dreadnought”. They were simply too small, too slow, too lightly armored, and too under-gunned to have any practical combat value in what had become -- the “Dreadnought Era”. Besides wondering which Gods he had offended, Tirpitz must have wondered how it had come to this… His Majesty, Kaiser Wilhelm II, King of Prussia and Emperor of the German Empire – In his Grand Admiral’s uniform. Kaiser Wilhelm II had always been envious of his “Uncle Bertie’s” fleet (King Edward VII of Great Britain). And during the early decades of his life, Wilhelm had been a political pawn, pushed and pulled between his English mother (the former British Princess Royal) and the anti-English machinations of Chancellor Prince Otto von Bismarck. This created a curious (but predictable) love / hate relationship with his English relatives (Queen Victoria was his grandmother) that would endure throughout his lifetime. Wilhelm spent his years on the throne knowing he had the finest army in Europe, but always feeling “second best” to Edward’s navy. Kapitan zur See Alfred von Tirpitz had approached the Kaiser early in his reign (early 1890’s) with a plan that might allow Wilhelm to compete with England at sea. An idea that immediately found Royal favor. In 1897, now an Admiral, von Tirpitz was appointed State Secretary for the Navy (with the Kaiser’s enthusiastic support) to put his plans into motion. Tirpitz was not fool enough to think German shipyards could out-build the English. But they could build a fleet strong enough to pose a threat. With a fleet of respectable size, Germany could move into the realm of world politics (Weltpolitik) as a major player alongside Britain, France, and Russia – but most especially Britain. The Kaiser wanted Germany to have her “place in the sun” – and -- he could get a bit of his own back on “Uncle Bertie”. Gross Admiral Alfred von Tirpitz – Secretary of State for the Navy – and creator of the Hochseeflotte. What Tirpitz proposed was, in actuality, the principle of “the fleet in being”. It would become both an instrument of war and an instrument of diplomacy. The fleet did not have to be the largest one, it just had to be big enough to provoke serious thought. With a fleet of sufficient size and quality, that strength could be used to influence other powers. France, for example, might have an army sufficient to stand against Germany – but their mobilization plans relied heavily on reinforcements from various colonies. If a strong German navy could interdict troop convoys from North Africa, the French position might become precarious. In the case of Britain, it was possible a strong German navy might influence her to remain neutral in a European land war. Simply put – a strong navy might stop other powers from interfering with German diplomacy -- or other, more martial, endeavors. HMS Dreadnought threw the entire “fleet in being” plan out of gear. Tirpitz had spent years and millions of Marks (Gold Marks) building a fleet of 20 pre-dreadnought battleships, and suddenly it had all been for nothing. A rather grim debate ensued within the Reichsmarineamt regarding whether to abandon the “fleet in being” principle, or to “double-down” and go to the Reichstag for more money to build the larger dreadnoughts. Tirpitz had worked too hard making the Kaiserliche Marine a competitive fighting force to simply throw up his hands and retire. And worst of all, to give up would be an insult to the Imperial Navy’s Royal patron. In May 1906, Tirpitz went back to the Reichstag with a supplemental request to the Second Naval Law. Approved on 19 May, the “Novelle of 1906” allowed for the addition of six large cruisers and forty-eight destroyers. (The term “destroyer” was coined by Jackie Fisher when he added deck guns to Royal Navy torpedo boats. The new name was short for – “torpedo-boat-destroyer”.) At the same time, the Kaiserliche Marine’s budget rose from 206.5 million Marks (1904) to 290.8 million by 1907. SMS Nassau – name ship of a class of four -- the first dreadnought battleships built for the Kaiserliche Marine. Nassau, Westfalen, Rheinland, and Posen were laid down in 1907 and commissioned between 1909 and 1910. The ships displaced 18,873 tons, were 479 feet long, and capable of 20.2 knots. They were armed with 12x11-inch main battery guns and 12x5.9-inch secondary guns. Roughly comparable to HMS Dreadnought, they had the edge with better armor arrangements, but their triple expansion engines were a throw-back to old-fashioned technology. The Reichstag’s cash infusion allowed Tirpitz to counter HMS Dreadnought with four dreadnought battleships of the Nassau Class – on the theory the battle fleet was paramount and had to be strengthened first. The next problem to be dealt with were the new armored cruisers the British were known to be building. But there was still much discussion inside the Reichsmarineamt and Oberkommando der Marine (Naval High Command) about what direction the development of the armored cruiser (Panzerkreuzer) should take. And much of the discussion was driven by Wilhelm II, himself – starting as far back as 1904. The monarch’s considerable interest was not limited to dashing off doodles of ship designs on the back of envelopes and telegrams. Wilhelm constantly sent rambling memorandum to the State Secretary’s office, tactical and strategic advice to the Oberkommando and, of course, “sketch designs” to the naval architects. It is reasonably certain he was familiar with Cuniberti’s “big gun” article of 1903, and may have formed his own theory on big guns, speed, and battleships. He was also an avid reader of the “Marine-Rundschau”, a magazine started-up around the turn of the century by a group of industrialists. The publication’s specific purpose was to increase the general public’s interest in naval affairs. The public, in turn, would apply an added degree of pressure to the Reichstag for naval funding. Wilhelm II went as far as writing an article (under the pen-name “L”) for the January, 1904 issue. The article theorized that armored cruiser displacement was fast approaching that of battleships, and warned their size and expense would soon surpass battleships. Therefore, why not simply build battleships? SMS Nassau as she would have looked at her commissioning in 1909. She is tied-up at mooring dolphins outside the Coaling Basin. Inside the basin are several tugs and lighters waiting to unload their coal at the docks. Left to right – one Midgard Class is shoving a lighter into position, while another stands by. To the right is an Odin Class with two lighters lashed along side. And above that is an old Goliath Class tug (the towed lighters didn’t make it into the picture). Nassau and Goliath are courtesy of @Barroco Hispano – breakwaters by “Uki” – and everything else is by @AP. Another view of SMS Nassau. Her hull form was a bit short, and “stubby” – which was indicative of her low, 20-knot speed. A longer hull form would have made her much more “streamlined”, and would have provided room for additional boilers to increase speed. But, as Germany’s first dreadnoughts, Tirpitz chose to build them small, and as cheaply as possible, to avoid further conflict with the Reichstag. Nonetheless – they were capable battleships and served throughout The Great War. The Kaiser had long been an advocate of the “fast battleship” – a fusion of the two types. But in his scenario, the “Grosse Kreuzer” (large cruiser) would be cheaper than a battleship, three or four knots faster, have a large operating radius, would be capable of reconnaissance, and could fall back on the fleet and stand in the line of battle. In order to fulfill these roles, the cruiser’s armament would have to be a 9.4-inch or 10-inch main battery, with a 5.9-inch secondary battery. And, of course, it should have armor sufficient to withstand a 10 inch shell. But then, Wilhelm was an amateur, and his article was written in 1904. The technology to successfully pull this off did not yet exist. When Wilhelm II cited the article by “L” in a memorandum, Grossadmiral Tirpitz diplomatically rejected the idea on the grounds that such a vessel was financially undesirable as well as technically impossible. So, the discussion was “tabled” – for the time being. By early 1905, bits and pieces of information about HMS Dreadnought had begun to leak out, and even some “wild” rumors about powerful British cruisers. The “fast battleship” concept was raised again within the Reichsmarineamt – but was rejected again – due to cost and technical feasibility. But the rumors had made it clear -- a “Grosse Kreuzer” was certainly needed. During these discussions, the name “Grosse Kreuzer” was chosen as the official nomenclature – mainly because it sounded like a bigger armored cruiser – less likely to upset the Reichstag. Nassau from the stern. Note the layout of the main battery turrets – one fore and aft – and two “wing turrets” on either beam. At this stage of naval design evolution, wing turrets were considered acceptable – especially if you wanted as many guns as possible on a battleship. Though this gave her two more guns than HMS Dreadnought (extra redundancy in case of battle damage), Nassau was only able to bring eight guns to bear in broadside – the same as Dreadnought. Here is a close-up of Nassau, so you can examine all the beautiful detail in Barroco Hispano’s model. The stern alone is a wealth of detail – the stowage of the stern anchors – the anti-torpedo-boat guns in their casemates with the shields open. Each model’s detail can answer a lot of questions you may have about battleships. BTW – you can download and blow-up these hi-res pictures – it helps understand the ships better. Meanwhile, the British had shifted the focus of their armored cruisers from commerce protection to the role of a squadron-sized “fast wing” for the battle fleet. But Tirpitz stuck to the traditional reconnaissance role: defeating enemy cruiser screens to obtain information about the enemy battle fleet – protecting their own light forces – and pursuing damaged enemy ships. The Kaiser, however, kept returning to the idea that they should be able to fight in the battle line. Tirpitz, rather delicately, kept finding reasons why this would not work. The facts, however, were simple. Putting them in the battle line meant thicker armor -- armor increased weight -- weight meant more boilers to maintain speed – and more boilers meant a longer hull. And that was the irrefutable problem. German warships, at this time, were limited in length by the size of the harbor locks at Wilhelmshaven. Wilhelm’s fast, heavily armored cruiser would be too long for the locks. (The large #III entrance locks at Wilhelmshaven would not open until 1910.) On 4 March 1905, the specifications for “Grosse Kreuzer 1906” were formally submitted to the design office and the planning work began. From that point, everybody had a say in the matter. The Naval High Command pointed out several large warships were sent to the bottom during the Russo-Japanese War due to damage from floating mines and torpedo attacks. So a torpedo bulkhead was added inboard of the armor belt. All seemed to agree an increase of between 3,000 to 5,000 tons displacement over the Scharnhorst Class would be good. One design was done with six main battery guns -- and another with eight. Then the Naval High Command, in favor of battle line capability, insisted on twelve main battery guns. They also wanted to put 11-inch guns on the new “Grosse Kreuzer”, but Tirpitz bluntly refused -- the bigger guns were much too expensive. Privately, he was afraid it would set a bad precedent for future ships, running up the costs and displeasing the Reichstag. He was equally afraid the larger guns would encourage captains to seek a place in the battle line rather than taking care of their “cruiser” duties. At one point, steam turbines were proposed for the propulsion system. But triple-expansion engines had already been ordered and drawn into the “master set” of plans. Turbines, on the other hand, were untested in large German warships, and – worst of all – that bit of re-design work would take at least three months. So the idea was dropped – a decision that would come back to haunt them in 1915. And so it went – change after change – until 22 May 1906, when the final meeting was held and the design was officially “set”. The construction department took over the sketch plans to create the mechanical drafting sheets and blueprints. This department was also responsible for the final appearance of the ship, and they promptly reduced the number of funnels from four to two. The final drawings would take some weeks to complete, but on 26 May, the Reichstag approved the Naval Estimates – including a budget of 27 million Marks for “Grosse Kreuzer 1906”. HMS Minotaur – armored cruiser – 14,600 tons – 23 knots – 4x9.2-inch guns – 10x7.5-inch guns –5x18-inch torpedo tubes – belt armor 6 inches. Note the main battery 9.2-inch twin turrets fore and aft – and if you look carefully, you can see the 7.5 inch guns in single turrets, five on either beam, between the superstructure blocks. They were fast, and well-armed with cruiser-sized guns, but their armor belts were pathetically weak. The idea with the numerous heavy guns was to “smother” the target and destroy it. There is, however, reasonable doubt that poor Royal Navy gunnery could have destroyed another armored cruiser before their own ship was riddled like a colander. The new cruiser, or “E” as it was designated, had been designed based on the sketchy intelligence gathered on the British armored cruisers – specifically, that they were improved versions of the Minotaur Class. The Reichsmarineamt expected these ships to be armed with six or possibly eight 9.4-inch guns and of slightly increased displacement over the Minotaur’s. “Cruiser E” would mount twelve 8.3-inch guns in six twin turrets – a significant increase over the Scharnhorst Class, and an equally significant increase over the expected British cruisers. However – just five days after funding had been approved, and “Cruiser E” was ordered from the builder’s yard -- the rules of the game were changed yet again. The German naval attache in London finally obtained details of the new British armored cruisers. They were the Invincible Class – and they were not even remotely similar to the Minotaur Class. Their displacement of just over 18,000 tons was comparable to HMS Dreadnought and significantly larger than either the Scharnhorst Class armored cruisers or the Deutschland Class pre-dreadnought battleships. Their armament of eight 12-inch guns far surpassed the German standard of 8.3-inch cruiser guns. And their speed of 25 knots was not only phenomenal, but exceeded “Cruiser E” by nearly 2 knots. Jackie Fisher’s campaign of secrecy and disinformation had fooled the Germans more completely than he had ever imagined possible. HMS Invincible just after launch of the hull at Sir W.G. Armstrong, Whitworth & Co., Ltd on “Tyneside” – 13 April, 1907. Notice how the largely empty hull rides very high in the water. The steam paddle tugs have gotten lines on the hull and are preparing to tow her to the “Fitting Out” docks. There are three steam tugs visible in the picture and all of them are “paddlers” – very similar to “AP’s” beautiful tug models. HMS Invincible moored off the Coaling Basin. You can see the obvious differences between the average armored cruiser and the new British “dreadnought cruisers”. Invincible is longer, larger, and mounts eight of the more powerful 12-inch guns. The decks have been cleared of all the “clutter” found on the old armored cruisers. This is a close-up of Invincible. The detail on this model is fantastic. For example, the circular objects on top of the main battery turrets are actually pedestal gun mounts. As originally designed, two 4 inch torpedo boat defense guns were mounted atop each turret. Not only was this a ridiculous place to mount quick-firing guns that required large amounts of ammunition, but it was found the guns could not be worked when the main battery was in action. In addition, it was found that 4 inch guns were unable to stop modern torpedo boats and destroyers – so they were removed during the first refit. The battlecruiser is courtesy of @Barroco Hispano. Tirpitz immediately concluded the Invincible’s were a completely new type of warship that was neither an armored cruiser, nor a battleship – and it would be 1911 before the British officially reclassified them as battlecruisers. But that was just a matter of semantics. Tirpitz’ problem was much more real. The news could not have come at a conceivably worse moment for the Imperial Navy – and especially for Tirpitz. The need to make the leap to the “all-big-gun” battleship (Nassau) had entailed an enormous cost increase, and the State Secretary was still trying to incorporate this into the Naval Estimates in a manner palatable to the Reichstag. Suddenly, this process was going to be repeated for the “Grosse Kreuzer” type. It should be remembered – Scharnhorst was already at the upper end of those limits. The Reichstag did approve an increase for the “1906 Novelle” – but with restrictions. Battleship limits were “fixed” at 32 million Marks, and the “Grosse Kreuzer” limited to 27 million Marks. And that amount was just barely sufficient to cover the cost of a 15,500 ton cruiser. Tirpitz knew there was no hope of more money from the Reichstag – “Grosse Kreuzer E” had reached its’ budget limit. There simply was no more money to be begged, borrowed, or stolen. On June 21 1906, the Kaiser dutifully signed-off on the building order, even though his preferred fast battleship might have come closer to meeting the crisis. Then, on 12 July, the London naval attache confirmed his previous information (at the request of the Reichsmarineamt). The confirmation forced Tirpitz to face the cold, hard, facts. His naval architects had designed an armored cruiser to defeat another armored cruiser – and what he wound up with, was a big armored cruiser that didn’t stand a chance against a battlecruiser. The department heads were called together once again, and though the discussions lasted five hours, the facts were unalterable. An increase in gun caliber to 10 inches had already been ruled out due to budgetary limits, and additional speed could not be obtained because of the limits of the Wilhelmshaven locks, and the lengthy delay steam turbines would entail, was unacceptable. Armor sufficient to resist 12-inch shells was equally impossible under the budget restraints. And regardless of any other considerations, the armament had already been ordered from Krupp, building materials had already been assembled at the shipyard, and pre-construction fabrication was in progress. To delay until the following year – even with the possibility of additional funding – was out of the question. The Kaiserliche Marine could not afford to lose a year in their race against Great Britain. So the only option was to go ahead with construction as designed. A redesign of “Grosse Kreuzer E” is an attractive thought, and has always appealed to the “what if” school of historians, but it does not hold up under scrutiny. In order to fight on equal terms with the Invincible Class battlecruisers, the first thing needed would be bigger guns. The standard German 11-inch gun, especially in it’s high velocity version, was every bit as good as the British 12-inch weapon (though the later German 12-inch gun packed a bigger punch). And as standard weapons, the 11-inch guns would have been readily available. (Germany had not yet finished testing and development of a 12-inch naval rifle.) But an increase in gun caliber meant the barbettes would have to be enlarged. This would mean moving adjacent powder magazines, shell storage magazines, and shell handling rooms. This, in turn, would involve more “adjustments” in the shape and size of compartments surrounding the barbettes and various magazines. The work on the blueprints alone could have taken months. The speed issue is even more complicated. The Invincible Class was powered by Parson Steam Turbines and achieved just over 25 knots on trials. (Steam turbines -- think of an aircraft jet engine – or the jet fuel turbine in an Abrams main battle tank.) Turbines were lower and could be placed below the waterline, whereas triple expansion engines were taller than a house and would be exposed above the protective armored deck. Turbines produced more power with fewer boilers and operated more smoothly at high speeds. Triple expansion engines, largely due to their operating mechanics, could cause severe vibration at high speed, and they did have an upper limit -- and it was dangerously unwise to push them. Critically – the Kaiserliche Marine had not yet tested steam turbines in a large warship. So -- with four-cylinder triple expansion engines as a given, to increase “Kreuzer E’s” speed just 2 knots might require up to eight additional boilers (possibly more) – which means additional boiler rooms and a longer hull to accommodate them. And that meant more armor. The question of armor is in a class all by itself. “Grosse Kreuzer E” had been armored to withstand the fire of “standard” British armored cruisers -- usually 9.2-inch rifles. And though the new cruiser’s armor was “scaled-up” over the Scharnhorst Class -- it was still woefully inadequate against the 12-inch guns of the Invincible Class battlecruisers. The vital areas of the ship – engines, boilers, and magazines – would need three or four more inches of armor on the waterline belt, and one to two additional inches on the protected armor deck. The secondary batteries above the armor belt would require two or more inches added to the armored strake. The main battery turrets, the secondary battery casemated turrets, and the conning towers would all require serious armor up-grades. The reason the armor could not be sufficiently up-graded was because that much added weight would reduce the cruiser’s speed well below the required 25 knots – thus bringing us full circle to the original speed deficit. And these are just the most obvious problems with an attempted redesign. The final – and insurmountable problem – was the money. The Reichstag had already authorized millions of Marks in naval spending – their generosity was not unending. (Just thought I’d answer the re-design question before anyone asked…) So “Grosse Kreuzer E” was, as they say – “A day late and a dollar short”. She had been created to dominate opposing armored cruisers – a ship type that had suddenly been superseded by the battlecruiser. And she was, in her turn, dominated by the battlecruiser. What HMS Dreadnought had done to the pre-dreadnought battleship – HMS Invincible did to the armored cruiser. And there was such a vast difference between Invincible and “Kreuzer E”, that it could be said she was obsolete even before her keel was laid. And you would be right. The Oberkommando der Marine ordered their first battlecruiser the very next year, if further proof is needed. Obsolete or not, “Grosse Kreuzer E” was an over-sized armored cruiser and an under-sized battlecruiser – “neither fish nor fowl” – neither one thing nor the other. But, for the Kaiserliche Marine, she was the “Missing Link”. For decades, anthropologists searched for the “Missing Link” between cavemen and modern man. Jackie Fisher had made the jump from armored cruisers to battlecruisers in one great leap – and caught the rest of the naval world napping. For Germany, “Grosse Kreuzer E” was the reluctant and unfortunate bridge between the two. But it would be left to “Grosse Kreuzer F – 1907” to be designed and built as a counter to the newly evolved British battlecruiser. POSTSCRIPT: In recent years, many “revisionist” historians have taken the approach that “Fisher’s Great Deception” was not responsible for the faulty design parameters of SMS Blucher. Some have even gone as far as to say no contemporary documentation exists to support the story. It is true no German documents have yet been discovered in which the German staff or designers admit to having been “duped” by the English. But the substance of their design discussions have survived in bits and pieces of various inter-office memorandum and a few personal diaries – all of which indicate Blucher’s design was directly influenced by intelligence gathered in Britain by Embassy intelligence officers and the naval attache. Tirpitz and his staff were led to believe the English would build nothing larger than an “improved” Minotaur Class armored cruiser – and that is exactly what they had believed from the beginning. They had discounted rumors of great speed and big guns because, in their logical and analytical minds, they could not grasp the massive technological leap Fisher had taken with his “dreadnought cruisers”. Only after they had seen HMS Invincible on display at Spithead did they begin to understand the “dreadnought concept” and the full extent of its application. By then it was simply too late to save Blucher. NEXT TIME…… THE HYBRID CRUISER And there is a bit more for you…… This time we are going to take a tour of Cuxhaven’s coaling facilities and docks. Coal can be taken aboard a warship from a lighter, anywhere – a bay, an inlet, at a mooring point, or alongside a repair dock. Especially on an overseas voyage, you can coal ship anywhere there is room enough to bring a lighter alongside. But when you’re ship is in a major naval base – you go to the coaling docks. This is an overview of the coaling facilities. The receiving, storage, and distribution dumps are the large concrete pads in the bottom center, and they are connected by rail to the coaling docks at the top of the picture. In the lower left, you can see the north end of the West Loch, and north along the coast is Battery Scharnhorst. The roadsted and main harbor of Cuxhaven is out of the picture to the right. This is a closer view of the receiving, storage, and distribution system. The coal is brought in by rail from the main track to the right. The loaded cars are backed onto the dumping ramp and the doors in the bottom of the coal gondolas are opened. The coal slides down the concrete slope and onto the waiting piles at the bottom. The facility is set up to unload as many as four trains at one time. From the delivery chute, the coal is loaded into dump trucks and moved across the lot to the distribution pad. The piles on the left of the picture are waiting to be loaded onto rail cars to be sent out. As you can see, there is a wide variety of structures and equipment that have been used to portray the operation. Anyone familiar with industrial lots in SC4 will recognize them immediately. They have all been re-purposed to move coal to the warships in the harbor. I confess I have used some modern elements that were not available in 1910. Trucks – absolutely necessary to a functioning naval base – were primitive in those days, and there are, of course, no such props in SC4. So the bases will always be a strange mix of “early” and “later” 20th Century furnishings – my apologies. This is the distribution point where the coal is loaded into gondolas and shipped to the coaling docks. This is a close-up of the east side distribution point. The coaling lot was arranged in this manner so that two trains could be loaded at the same time – thereby ensuring a steady flow of coal to both sides of the coaling docks. While these two trains are loading, two more trains are out on the docks dumping their load. When they are empty, they return via the center track and wait below the switches. When the loaded trains have departed for the docks, the two waiting trains take their place. In this manner, a continuous supply of coal can be shuttled to the docks. These are the Cuxhaven coaling docks. They are laid out in a manner inspired by a 1930’s picture of coaling docks in Cardiff, Wales. The docks can accommodate four ships at a time. The elevated rail line runs down the center of the dock space and uses the same gravity dumping system as the storage area. The large warships and the oil tanker in the picture are courtesy of Barroco Hispano. All other ships, tugs, lighters, small craft, and mooring dolphins are crafted by AP. Everything else in the picture has been constructed by re-lotting or re-purposing lots and props already in-game. The battlecruiser SMS Derfflinger taking on coal. The elegant model is courtesy of Barroco Hispano. This is a close-up of the paddle tug Sophia towing two empty lighters out of the crowded coaling basin. Note the fine detail modeled into the paddle tug and the lighters. Moored along the seawall is an elderly Nordwind Class tug. Notice the open bridge – a common feature of early tug boats. Astern of her is a more modern Passat Class – an improved “second generation” of Nordwind. The Passat’s had more horsepower and could handle heavy seas more easily. Tugs, lighters, and mooring dolphins are the excellent work of “AP”. This is the Motor-Lighter Ajax. She is a unique vessel used to transport large or heavy pieces of equipment from shipyard factories or assembly sheds to dry docks or construction slipways. Her bridge is placed forward of the cargo area and elevated to give a good view ahead as well as being able to see over large cargoes carried amidships. Steering commands are passed by hand-set or speaking tubes to the wheelhouse atop the aft superstructure. Her twin funnels are placed side-by-side – an uncommon feature even in the early 1900’s – but the machinery spaces are comparatively small so it was necessary. On a good day, she can make all of 8 knots, and she is shallow draft and rides low in the water. Ajax was never meant to go beyond a harbor, estuary, or shallow coastal waters. On her midships cargo deck are a pair of massive three-cylinder, triple-expansion, steam engines. They are destined to be installed in “Grosse Kreuzer E”. The engines are just one of the many historically accurate props “AP” has provided to enhance the realism in SC4. And each new prop opens up a whole world that can be investigated and portrayed in the game. Motor-Lighter Ajax by “AP”. This is a close-up of a Thor Class tug standing-by to take two coal lighters under tow. This should give you a good idea of the high quality of the models and the great amount of detail worked into them by “AP”. Thor looks every bit the “worn-out harbor work-horse” she is meant to be. You can almost see the individual lumps of coal in the lighters. And even the empty lighters moored along the near side of the basin are pure perfection. Thor will shortly move the lighters out to the roadsted and the waiting warships. This is SS Gotha, a Norddeutscher Line collier leased by the Kaiserliche Marine to accompany a squadron of ships on their journey to the Far East. Germany and Great Britain possessed fairly large fleets of commercial colliers and preferred “leasing” over building naval colliers. Only the United States chose to build Fleet Auxiliary Colliers rather than trust commercial vessels. During wartime, foreign colliers were often unavailable for “political reasons” – even neutral vessels could not be relied upon. This gorgeous model by @AP is an absolute “work of art”. Here we see a Thor Class tug attempting to maneuver a full coal lighter into a mooring. SS Gotha will be casting off soon and room will be needed to move the collier out of the basin. Coaling basins are often crowded with tugs standing-by to undertake tows, and numerous empty and full lighters. Some small boats have tied up alongside the lighters and crewmen are “working the coal” – possibly leveling it out to “stabilize the tow” – or even raking through it for foreign debris and “klinkers”. Here again, you can see the wonderful high-def models in all their detailed glory. Even the mooring dolphins are superb. This is the battlecruiser SMS Mackensen as she would have appeared at her planned commissioning in 1919. A much improved version of the Derfflinger Class, Mackensen would have had a much greater displacement and a larger caliber main battery armament. The first ships were laid down in January 1915 and some were actually launched. But none would ever see service. (More on this class in later chapters.) This magnificent model is courtesy of Barroco Hispano. AND – we have TWO prop packs for you this time…… MANY THANKS to @Barroco Hispano for his generosity in providing so many beautiful and highly detailed warships. VERY SPECIAL THANKS to my collaborating partner -- @AP -- for volunteering his considerable talents, valuable time, and vivid imagination in creating so many beautiful models and props from the Great War Era. The Cuxhaven Series would be utterly impossible without him. If you enjoyed anything you saw – please punch the “like” button so I will know. A comment would be even more informative. Comments and critiques requested and gratefully accepted. All questions answered promptly to the best of my ability. THANK YOU for your visit and the COMMENTS many of you have been kind enough to make! 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 https://community.simtropolis.com/forums/topic/761469-simtropolis-shipyard/?tab=comments#comment-1766496

SMS Scharnhorst, flagship, Imperial East Asiatic Squadron – moored to a buoy off Tsingtao, China – circa 1911. Note the old freighter at a pier to left, and notice the deployed boat booms on either side of the cruiser. The signal halyards are “dressed” for some “occasion” – but it’s impossible to make out the message. You can also see the shutters on the torpedo boat defense guns, in the bow casemates, are partially open to circulate air up forward. IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: CUXHAVEN By: Dreadnought & AP Chapter 09: CORONEL & THE FALKLANDS German East Asiatic Squadron at anchor in Kiaochow Bay, off Tsingtao – circa 1911. Scharnhorst and Gneisenau are at center. SMS Gneisenau steamed out of Wilhelmshaven on 10 November 1910, and proceeded via the Mediterranean and Suez Canal before putting in at Colombo, Ceylon, on 10 December. The next day she embarked Kronprinz Wilhelm, who was touring British India at the time. Gneisenau steamed round to Bombay, where the prince debarked, before continuing on her way. She effected a brief rendezvous with SMS Emden and made port calls in Singapore, Hong Kong, and Amoy, finally dropping anchor in Kiaochow Bay in March, 1911. In April, Gneisenau sailed to Taku, China, where she embarked Arthur, Graf Rex, the new ambassador to Japan. Upon arrival in Yokohama, joined by Scharnhorst, the ambassador presented his credentials, and the squadron commander and ship’s Kapitans were presented to the Meiji Emperor. Though the Kaiser had little regard for Asian cultures, German naval officers and diplomats were very proper where the “Chrysanthemum Throne” was concerned. Not only was Japan allied to Great Britain, but they had the most powerful navy in the Far East – and – any major repairs and maintenance on German warships were usually carried out in their yards. With the exception of a brief war scare over the “Agadir Crisis” in November, 1911, the next few years were spent on routine assignments – port calls, diplomatic trips, dockyard maintenance, and occasionally anchoring off a Chinese port that showed signs of unrest. The Hamburg-American steamer Silesia ran aground off Pusan, Korea, in August 1912, and Gneisenau pulled her free, then escorted her to Nagasaki for repairs. In December, Konteradmiral Maximillian von Spee arrived to take command of the squadron and the pace of training and intelligence gathering increased. Von Spee kept the two armored cruisers at sea for most of 1913, paying several port calls in Japanese waters. Visiting German coaling stations in the Pacific archipelagos occupied early 1914, and they were anchored at Ponape, in the Caroline Islands, when news was received that Austro-Hungary had declared war on Serbia -- and Russia had begun military mobilization. With the political situation reaching the boiling point, von Spee ordered the ships stripped for war. All wood paneling in cabins and wardrooms was removed and sent ashore with as much of the wooden furniture as possible, and the coal bunkers and fresh water tanks were topped-off. At midnight on 4 August, Germany was officially at war with Russia, France, and Great Britain. On 6 August, von Spee issued immediate orders for the squadron’s light cruisers and all available colliers, supply ships, and passenger liners to rendezvous with him at Pagan, in the Marianas Islands. After dark, the cruisers slipped out of the bay and left their leased Japanese collier none the wiser. The Japanese were allied to Great Britain by treaty and could not be trusted with the knowledge of his whereabouts. Japanese Tsukuba Class armored cruiser – 13,750 tons – 20.5 knots – 4x12-inch guns – 12x6-inch guns – 12x4.7-inch guns – 3x18-inch torpedo tubes – belt armor 7 inches. Von Spee was in a difficult position. The Russian Pacific Squadron would be patrolling north of Tsingtao. The British Far East Squadron would already be searching the China Sea. The Royal Australian Navy would, doubtless, be at sea searching the Bismarck Archipelago and the bays along German New Guinea. This force was particularly dangerous because the flagship was the brand new Indefatigable Class battlecruiser HMAS Australia. And the entire Japanese fleet, having checked Tsingtao, would quickly fan out into the Pacific to search and seize control of the German island possessions. Spee had two of the finest armored cruisers in the region, but they were no match for Japanese battleships and British, and he knew it. HMAS Australia – Indefatigable Class -- 18,500 tons – 25 knots – 8x12-inch guns – 16x4-inch guns – 2x18-inch torpedo tubes – belt armor 6 inches. The three ships of the Indefatigable Class quickly followed the Invincible’s into service, and due to budgetary concerns, were largely identical. After the warships and support vessels assembled at Pagan, von Spee detached Commodore Karl von Muller’s light cruiser SMS Emden on a diversionary commerce raid into the Bengal Sea and Indian Ocean. On 15 August, the East Asiatic Squadron weighed anchor and set course for Valparaiso, Chile – Scharnhorst and Gneisenau, the light cruiser Nurnberg, several colliers, and the armed merchant cruiser Prinz Eitel Friedrich. With the outbreak of war in Europe, neutral nations could no longer be relied upon for coal and supplies. Britain’s political influence stretched around the World, and once friendly neutral ports would soon be closed to the German squadron. Without a guaranteed coal supply, von Spee’s only hope was to fill his bunkers at Valparaiso, round Cape Horn, and try to reach Germany. SMS Emden: Commissioned 1909 – 3,664 tons – 23.5 knots – 10x4.1-inch guns – 8x2-inch guns – 2x17.7-inch torpedo tubes – deck armor 3.1 inches. On 14 August 1914, Kapitan Muller and Emden, accompanied by the collier Markomannia, departed Pagan Island bound for the Indian Ocean. From that day until November 1914, Emden began a one-ship “cruiser war” and played “merry Hell” with the British shipping lanes between Singapore, Colombo, and the Gulf of Aden. On 9 November 1914, the light cruiser HMAS Sydney caught up with the German raider off the Cocos Islands, crippled her, and Muller ran her aground to save his crew. Emden would have been nearly identical to the other light cruisers in von Spee’s squadron. https://i.imgur.com/OThYJ0B.jpg[/im Model Courtesy of Barroco Hispano. SMS Emden engaged with the light cruiser HMAS Sydney. The German ship was delivering a rapid and accurate fire, but Sydney’s larger 6-inch guns prevented Emden from closing to torpedo range – and eventually crippled her steering and range-finding apparatus. (Claus Bergen) Around 8 September, von Spee learned German Samoa had been occupied by the enemy and he altered course to investigate. Arriving off the colony on 14 September, he found no enemy ships in the harbor and saw no point in bombarding a defenseless port – but a little retribution was in order. On 22 September, the squadron turned up off Papeete, French Tahiti, and opened fire on the harbor facilities. After sinking the gunboat Zelee, Spee thought about landing and coaling from the french stocks, but feared the harbor might be mined. And when shore batteries returned fire, the cruisers steamed off to the west, only returning to an easterly course after dark, to conceal his movements. Spee could not have known the French had set their own coal afire to prevent him getting it. By 12 October they reached Easter Island and paused to fill their bunkers from the colliers. The light cruiser SMS Dresden arrived from American waters later that day, and the light cruiser Liepzig arrived on 14 October with three colliers from Mazatlan, Mexico. The squadron remained for a week, coaling, resting, and performing engine maintenance, then moved on, arriving in Valparaiso early on 1 November. Learning the light cruiser HMS Glasgow had been anchored in the port of Coronel the day before – von Spee immediately steered south to find her. HMS Good Hope – 14,150 tons – 23 knots – 2x9.2-inch guns – 16x6-inch guns – 12x3-inch guns – 2x18-inch torpedo tubes – belt armor 6 inches. Rear Admiral Sir Christopher Cradock commanded the “North American and West Indies Station”, and the Admiralty in London had been sending telegram after telegram ordering him to dispatch cruisers on special missions in every conceivable direction. One such mission involved New York Harbor. When war broke out, there were a number of big German passenger liners in the port. The United States was a neutral nation – and under Neutrality Laws, the German ships would be given only sufficient coal to reach Germany, and had to depart within 24 hours. But the Admiralty (First Civil Lord – Winston Churchill) was worried the liners would get loose and be armed as “merchant cruisers” with guns carried in their cargo holds. Consequently, Cradock was ordered to send three cruisers to New York to lie off the harbor and intercept them. Cradock headed north to carry out the orders, stopped in the Bahamas to coal, and received new orders. Now he was to take part of his force and cover the sea passage around Cape Horn (South America) in case the German East Asiatic Squadron should come that way. Cradock dutifully divided his force again and turned south. HMS Bedford – Monmouth Class – 9,800 tons – 23 knots – 14x6-inch guns – 10x3-inch guns –2x18-inch torpedo tubes – belt armor 4 inches. This entire affair was micro-managed from a map with pins stuck in it, hanging on Churchill’s office wall. Telegrams went out in rapid succession, only to be changed when new information came in. There were hardly enough cruisers to cover all the possible problems in the North and South Atlantic. But what cruisers there were, charged off in one direction, only to have their orders countermanded, and sent charging off in another direction. The panic ensued because there were, actually, two German light cruisers loose in the Atlantic – SMS Karlsruhe and SMS Dresden. Karlsruhe had been spotted off Watling Island, in the Bahamas, transferring guns and ammunition to the liner SS Kronprinz Wilhelm – but both ships were fast and alluded pursuit. Karlsruhe later sank (1 November, 1914) from an internal explosion some miles east of Barbados. But the Naval High Command kept her loss a secret, and the British tied-up eleven cruisers in a five month search for her. With war imminent, SMS Dresden put to sea from Port-au-Prince, Haiti, with the intention of beginning “Handelskrieg” (trade warfare). The little cruiser headed south for the coast of Brazil, where merchant traffic would be plentiful. Kapitan Ludecke stopped a number of ships, found them to be neutrals, and let them go – but this meant his presence would be known, so he had to keep moving. Sinking only a few ships, Dresden rounded The Horn, and put into Hoste Island, on the western side of Tierra del Fuego for engine maintenance. The Hamburg-American steamer Santa Isabel arrived from Punta Arenas and informed Kapitan zur See Ludecke that merchant shipping was heavy along the west coast of South America. Ludecke transited the Strait of Magellan on 18 September, and while laying-over in the Juan-Fernandez Islands, made wireless contact with SMS Leipzig. By 12 October, Dresden had found her way to Admiral von Spee’s squadron at Easter Island. But her brief rampage in the South Atlantic had led the British cruiser groups (five of them) a merry chase, indeed. The movements of the two marauding cruisers had thoroughly confused the Admiralty as to German intentions. HMS Shannon – Minotaur Class – circa 1909. 14,600 tons – 23 knots – 4x9.2-inch guns – 10x7.5-inch guns – 5x18-inch torpedo tubes – belt armor 6 inches. HMS Defence was one of the Minotaur Class and would have looked much like this. All four ships had their funnels raised by 12 feet during their first refit, to keep smoke clear of the ship. Mid-September, Cradock’s orders changed again. Admiralty intelligence indicated the German squadron was likely heading for the west coast of South America, or the Strait of Magellan. Cradock was to detach a force sufficient to deal with Karlsruhe and Dresden, and take his remaining ships to meet von Spee in the South Atlantic. He was to use Port Stanley, in the Falkland Islands, as a coaling station. Cradock would be reinforced there by the modern armored cruiser HMS Defence, transferred from the Mediterranean. Combined with the armored cruisers Monmouth and Good Hope, and the old pre-dreadnought battleship Canopus, the Admiralty deemed the force sufficient to seek out and destroy the German ships. The orders stipulated he was to keep at least one Monmouth Class cruiser and the Canopus with his flagship Good Hope, until his force was concentrated. That condition should have provided adequate force if the East Asiatic Squadron was encountered. Just two days later, the Admiralty decided Spee’s appearance off German Samoa, and then French Tahiti, put together with SMS Emden’s commerce raiding in the Bay of Bengal, indicated von Spee intended to operate in the western Pacific. They promptly canceled the transfer of HMS Defence from the Mediterranean, messaged Cradock that Spee was moving west, and directed him to search the south west coast of South America for German merchant shipping. Since the Germans were moving away from South America, they further advised he no longer needed to keep his force concentrated – but they failed to notify him they had canceled Defence’s transfer. Again, Whitehall’s attempt to micro-manage every aspect of the war at sea by telegram was confusing the issue. Commanders at sea were unable to formulate or carry out cohesive search plans because of constant Admiralty interference. Large warships with high-maintenance engines were being shuffled about like berserk pieces on a chess board. And the information the orders were based on was often incomplete – or incorrect conclusions were being drawn. And the orders, themselves, were largely “knee-jerk reactions” – incomplete, lacking in detail, and not well thought-out. By late September, it was obvious SMS Dresden had gone into the Pacific. Cradock’s ships searched the anchorages around Tierra del Fuego, to no avail, and retired to Port Stanley for coal on 3 October. After coaling, he put to sea again, with the intention to “scout” Tierra del Fuego, then spread out in a search line and work north along the Chilean coast. By late October, Cradock had reliable intelligence that Spee’s East Asiatic Squadron had reached South America’s west coast. His squadron was substantially weaker than the Germans – all of them elderly vessels and crewed by largely inexperienced men. He steamed north along the coast with the armored cruisers Good Hope (flag) and Monmouth, the light cruiser Glasgow, and the merchant cruiser Otranto. (Cradock had opted to steam ahead of the pre-dreadnought battleship Canopus, because she was far too slow -- 10 knots -- to participate in an effective search. As a result, her 12 inch guns would not participate in the battle.) SMS Scharnhorst opens fire on HMS Good Hope, opening the Battle Of Coronel – November 1, 1914. Note the Konteradmiral’s (Rear Admiral) flag flying from the foremast peak. The German squadron arrived off Coronel in the afternoon, and to von Spee’s surprise, he not only found HMS Glasgow, but SS Otranto, Good Hope, and Monmouth. These were exactly the kind of British cruisers Scharnhorst and Gneisenau were designed to overpower, and this engagement would demonstrate that superiority. Sighting approaching smoke clouds below the horizon, Cradock knew it could be no one other than von Spee, and reversed course so both forces were now steaming south. Scharnhorst and Gneisenau were closing quickly at 20 knots. It was cold, and windy, with the seas running high, and Cradock’s older ships were too slow to escape. At 17:10, Cradock decided he must engage the enemy, and altered course to close the range so his 6 inch batteries could open fire. Cradock was undoubtedly aware the German cruisers mounted 8.3 inch guns, out-ranged the bulk of his weapons, and could bring a total of twelve guns to bear in broadside. And considering their advantage in speed, firepower, and armor – many historians have professed to be puzzled as to why he chose to engage the enemy. But the answer is quite simple. It was a matter of “honor”. Three months prior to the Battle Of Coronel, an event occurred that certainly influenced Cradock’s decision to engage the superior German squadron. Late on 5 August, in the Mediterranean, the German battlecruiser SMS Goeben and the light cruiser Breslau had finished coaling in Messina, Sicily. Germany had been at war with Great Britain not quite twenty-four hours when Konteradmiral Wilhelm Souchon (commanding the Mediterranean Division) received coded orders from Admiral Hugo von Pol (Hochseeflotte). Souchon was instructed not to try to reach Germany or Austria (what the British would expect) – but to make a dash for Constantinople and the protection of a sympathetic Turkish government. In the early morning hours of 6 August, in the dark of night, Goeben and Breslau quit Messina, worked up to cruising speed, and exited the southern Straits of Messina -- setting course for the eastern Mediterranean. Two British battlecruisers were 100 miles away, while a third was coaling at Bizerta, Tunisia. The only British force between Souchon and Turkey was the 1st Cruiser Squadron, patrolling the Straits of Otranto, several hours to the northeast. The armored cruisers HMS Defence, Black Prince, Duke of Edinburgh, and Warrior were commanded by Rear Admiral Ernest Troubridge and had been positioned to keep Goeben out of the Adriatic Sea. With annoying persistence, a patrolling British light cruiser began shadowing the German squadron as they cleared the Straits of Messina. In an effort to shake off the small cruiser, Souchon feinted toward the Austrian ports in the Adriatic, then turned back on course for Turkey. The move initially mislead Troubridge, who soon realized his mistake and gave chase. Unaware of the approaching armored cruisers, the German admiral finally decided to rid himself of the overly inquisitive British light cruiser. The Germans overloaded their boilers, pushed their turbines to the limit, and managed to lose their pursuer in the gathering darkness. Troubridge, within hours of making an intercept, broke off the chase early on 7 August – convinced by his “flag captain” that Goeben’s 11-inch guns would make an attack by his four old armored cruisers suicidal. Troubridge was relieved of his command and would face a court-martial for “failure to pursue the enemy”. Though acquitted, he never received another seagoing command. (In all fairness, there is little probability Troubridge could have prevented Goeben from reaching Turkish waters – while it is certain he would have lost, at least, one armored cruiser before breaking off the action. (See Chapter 20 for full details.) Cradock was a close friend of Troubridge – and would have been aware of the pending court-martial. We will never know what transpired on the bridge of Good Hope that afternoon, but it is certain Troubridge’s fate weighed heavily on Cradock’s mind. Conversations with other officers and officials at Port Stanley, and a letter he left behind, indicated he did not expect to survive an encounter with the German squadron. I know it sounds a bit cliche’ – but Cradock chose “Death before dishonor”. SS Otranto was ordered away as unsuitable for the battle line, and she escaped destruction. HMS Glasgow fought until she was alone, then disengaged and fled. But Good Hope and Monmouth were quickly reduced to burning wrecks and took more than 1,660 men down with them. Even with Canopus and Defence, the outcome of the battle would have been in doubt. Von Spee had fought a text-book-action, with skill and logic -- and a bit of luck. But there is only so much “luck” – and there is always the “unexpected” – isn’t there? To make a long story much shorter – the German East Asiatic Squadron rounded Cape Horn as planned, and turned-up south of Port Stanley in the Falkland Islands on 8 December – intent on seizing British coal stocks and destroying their wireless tower. Around 05:00, Gneisenau and Nurnberg were detached from the squadron to reconnoiter, and if possible, open the bombardment of the wireless towers. Some three hours later, Gneisenau’s Kapitan Maerker could begin to make out details of the port and the wireless towers on a hill. The two German cruisers closed up at battle stations and continued their approach, when thick smoke began rising from the inner harbor. Maerker just assumed the British were trying to burn their coal supply to keep it from falling into German hands. But as they drew closer, the smoke rapidly increased in volume and density, and they could clearly make out the distinctive shape of tripod masts and spotting tops. Moments later, two large caliber shells screeched overhead and splashed into the sea to starboard – raising two gigantic water columns uncomfortably close to Gneisenau. In Port Stanley, the battlecruisers HMS Invincible (flag) and Inflexible rode at anchor taking on coal. The loss of Cradock’s squadron at Coronel had been ill-received by the British public, and the Admiralty had taken swift action to redress the humiliation. Vice-Admiral Doveton Sturdee had been detached from the Grand Fleet and sent south with a powerful force to hunt down and annihilate von Spee. Sturdee exhibited no particular sense of urgency during his voyage into the South Atlantic, and having put into Port Stanley to coal, he was taking his time about it. He fully expected a long search for the German squadron -- south along the Argentine coast, and quite possibly round Cape Horn. HMS Invincible and Inflexible coaling in the north end of Port Stanley harbor. Though Port Stanley was a Royal navy coaling station, little money had been spent on improvements and it was necessary for large vessels to coal from lighters or colliers. Here we see Invincible taking coal over the starboard side, while another tug is coming alongside to port, and yet a third tug and lighter is waiting just astern. This is HMS Inflexible with a “coal tow” maneuvering into position alongside while another tug with two more lighters stands by. The battlecruisers are courtesy of @Barroco Hispano. The tugs and coal lighters are the beautiful scratch-built work of @AP. The two German cruisers had been sighted around 07:30 from a lookout post on a hill above the harbor. By 08:00 the lookout identified them as two warships – probably cruisers – definitely German. Unfortunately, his only means of communication was a hand-set telephone line that ran down to HMS Canopus. The old pre-dreadnought battleship had been beached on a mudflat at the entrance to the harbor to act as a guard ship. She might have been too slow for sea duty, but her guns were still lethal. Canopus had no line of sight to Invincible, so she was unable to pass word of the enemy’s approach, but the light cruiser HMS Glasgow was coaled and anchored nearby and attempted to relay the signal. As luck would have it, both battlecruisers were shrouded in a dense cloud of coal dust, and neither flags nor a signal lamp seemed to penetrate. Finally, Glasgow fired a signal gun and trained a 24-inch searchlight on the flagship and sent the message...”enemy in sight”. Sturdee, in his quarters shaving when informed, simply told the young lieutenant...”Signal all ships – raise steam for full speed – send your crews to breakfast.” Moments later Canopus opened fire at extreme range and all Hell broke loose in Port Stanley. HMS Canopus opens fire – 08:05. HMS Glasgow is steaming out to harass the German squadron (in the distance to the southeast) until Sturdee can get his ships to sea. This is an illustration from the London Daily Telegraph and though accurate for the most part, it is a bit lax in some respects. Canopus is shown underway when she was, in fact, beached on a mudflat. But you get the general idea. Out at sea, Kapitan Maerker had been startled by the rounds fired from Canopus – they were undoubtedly 12-inch shells -- and they landed close enough to throw water over Gneisenau’s forecastle. Forty seconds later two more shells impacted directly ahead of the cruiser – one ricocheting off the water and striking the base of Gneisenau’s first funnel. Fortunately, it was a practice round without an explosive charge. Maerker immediately got off a wireless to Admiral von Spee, and was promptly ordered to break off the attack and rejoin the squadron. Vizeadmiral Graf von Spee was watching the action unfold from Scharnhorst’s port bridge wing. Staring intently through his binoculars, he had seen the columns of smoke rising inside the harbor and was able to make out the fighting tops of a warship. The tall columns of water around Gneisenau could be nothing less than the impact of 12-inch shells. But worst of all – he could just make out the signature tripod masts of what could only be a British battlecruiser. Von Spee knew he would have been informed (through German spy networks) if a battlecruiser had been sent out from the Grand Fleet – but there had been no such message. The only thing he could imagine was the battlecruiser HMAS Australia followed him from the Pacific and managed to get to Port Stanley ahead of him. While still pondering this possibility, Gneisenau, straining her boilers, was closing the distance astern of Scharnhorst. If it was, in fact, Australia – von Spee’s squadron was doomed – and he knew it. His only chance was to get as far ahead of the enemy as he could, and hope for a rain squall, storm, or even Antarctic fog to cover his escape. Von Spee signaled a course change and began a “flank speed” run to the southeast. SMS Scharnhorst starting her high speed run to the southeast to disengage from the British. Gneisenau is just astern of her – and the smoke from pursuing warships can be see on the horizon at left. Around 10:20, the awful truth slid out of Port Stanley’s harbor. Black smoke gushed from their funnels as stokers desperately piled on coal to build a head of steam. The big British cruisers sliced through the water as a trailing wind blew the smoke clouds back upon them. The roiling smoke thickened as engineers opened valves and sprayed fuel oil onto the boiler fires, pushing the steam gauges ever higher. Rated at 24.5 knots, the British would exceed that this day. Von Spee eyed them anxiously through his binoculars and recognized the sleek and threatening silhouettes of two Invincible Class battlecruisers. (By now the Royal Navy had dropped the armored cruiser designation.) Von Spee knew he could not sink the two battlecruisers – and he stood little chance of damaging them enough to make them disengage. He signaled the light cruisers to break off and scatter, in the hope they might escape destruction. Nurnberg and Liepzig went down later that evening, but Dresden would escape in a rain squall. (She was later tracked to the Juan Fernandez Islands and sunk.) Meanwhile, von Spee signaled Gneisenau and turned toward the enemy. He could not outrun them, or outgun them, but he might buy some time for the others to get away. HMS Inflexible opens fire, shortly after Invincible’s ranging shots. Note the high speed bow wave and the way the stern dips down into the water. This is due to the action of propellers turning at high revolutions. The “digging action” of the screws literally sucks the stern down a few feet in the water. In extreme cases, this results in waves washing over the fantail. Scharnhorst maneuvered well and fought bravely, scoring several hits on Invincible and forcing her to open the range more than once. But in the end, Scharnhorst was bludgeoned to death by the battlecruiser’s powerful 12-inch guns. Von Spee went down with her when she capsized to port at 16:17 that afternoon – so did two of his sons. Gneisenau carried on – unable to score a mortal blow on her tormentors, and too slow to run away. When her ammunition was exhausted, she continued to fire training rounds at the British warships. Around 17:15 hours, three large caliber shells struck Gneisenau in quick succession and she began taking on water as she burst into a mass of flames. Kapitan zur See Maerker ordered scuttling charges to be set and the ship abandoned. At 17:42 hours, she rolled over slowly and sank. Unfortunately, very few of the drifting survivors were able to withstand the frigid waters of the South Atlantic. SMS Scharnhorst (foreground) going down while Gneisenau bravely carries on the fight. Vice Admiral Doveton Sturdee had handled his battlecruisers well – using his speed to chase down his prey. He also used his speed to stay beyond reach of the German 8.3-inch guns, while remaining well within range of his own 12-inch rifles. This is exactly the situation Jackie Fisher had envisioned for his fast armored cruisers – and they had performed beyond all expectations. But make no mistake – the Invincible’s were not armored cruisers. Fisher originally “called” them armored cruisers because he did not want to create controversy among the conservative ranks of the Royal Navy – and because he did not want to argue with the Chancellor of the Exchequer to obtain funds for a completely new type of warship. Fisher, in effect, took the armored cruiser and gave it a “dreadnought make-over”. The result was a cruiser the size of a battleship, with battleships guns, a speed far in excess of existing cruisers, and cruiser armor (the lighter armor making the higher speed possible). Fisher had, in fact, created the concept of the battlecruiser – and the result was the cruiser-killing Invincible Class. A story beginning with an Italian naval architect and ending with the Battle Of The Falkland Islands had come full circle, and it produced one of the truly great ironies to come out a war full of them. Scharnhorst and Gneisenau had been sent half way round the world to avoid meeting Invincible and Inflexible in battle. And within five months of hostilities breaking out, the Gods Of War had brought them together off an obscure group of islands in the South Atlantic – with the already predicted results. But – there is always the unexpected... HMS Inflexible, hove-to, rescuing survivors from Gneisenau’s crew. NEXT TIME…… NEITHER FISH NOR FOWL But there is a bit more for you…… This chapter may seem more like a history lesson – and that is partly true. It was necessary to include these two pivotal naval battles to illustrate two things: (1) the superiority of the Scharnhorst Class over existing British armored cruisers, and (2) the superiority of British battlecruisers over the two finest armored cruisers built by the Kaiserliche Marine. On another level, it is necessary to bring “closure” to the life of a warship – much like people. Anyone with a love of the sea will tell you a ship is a living, breathing, being – and some believe it even has a “soul”. So it becomes necessary to tell of its’ death. Unfortunately – we could not use very many SC4 models in this chapter. Some models you have seen in previous chapters, but to create models for all of the ships in the narrative would probably turn “AP’s” hair gray!! Plus -- “AP” and I have not yet been able to figure out how we could create models to represent ships in battle. BUT – I felt obligated to include some in-game pictures for you…... This image shows the southern end of the West Loch, to include the Southend Light, the Replenishment Docks, and the railyard that serves them. Note three small subchasers in the crook of the breakwater. They are modified models of AP’s motor launch, equipped with a 3.9 inch gun on the bow and depth charge racks on the stern. One of them is putting to sea to make a regular “anti-submarine-sweep” of the deep-water channel off the harbor entrance. Those pesky British submarines are like vermin – they get into everything! This is a close-up of Southend Light – one of “FrankU’s” many fine lighthouse models – modified for use in Cuxhaven. I believe the “Keeper’s” residence is an SFBT cottage, and the small warehouse is taken from “Nob’s 1905 Japanese Naval Series”. The sea walls and small boat landing are, of course, by NBVC – and the pavement is “Paeng’s Grunge Concrete” (some of them modified with random props). The warship model, lower right, is courtesy of @Barroco Hispano, and is a US Navy gunboat – Erie Class – details seen in a previous chapter. Erie is performing “guard duty” at the breakwater entrance. The landscape is MMP work made up of almost every possible type you can find on the STEX. My trees, bushes, and ground cover are predominantly @Girafe – whom I highly recommend. I use a combination of the “Poseidon Terrain Brushes” and “Heblem Sands” for dirt, slopes, and beaches. I long ago gave up trying to create a “minimalist terrain” style, and opted instead to “paint terrain” in a realistic style-- crowded, cluttered, and rarely bare. Night shot of the same. This is the railyard that serves the Replenishment Docks. The trackside cranes are from the “PEG-SNM Dry Dock” lot. They are unloading two rather large supply trains made up of “PEG” steam engines and various rail car props. The engines have been modified for “steam”. The concrete apron between the rails and the road is made up of 1x1 custom lots composed of a wide variety of props to create a busy, cluttered, feel. Another train is parked on a siding next to some “SFBT” props used to make trackside offices and a loading ramp. As soon as there is room, it will move under the cranes. Two more steam engines are on the top siding – one is waiting for orders from “dispatch” – while the other is taking on coal and water. The coaling tower and adjacent water tower are from “PEG” railroad lots. The forest behind the railyard, on top of the bluff, is a mix of MMP work and 1x1 custom “Tree Filler” lots designed to blend in. Here you can see the Replenishment Docks in the lower right, adjacent to another tug station. Going around the basin counter-clockwise – a Midgard and an Odin Class “nested” at lower left – a Passat Class at the mooring dolphins – two “steam tugs” by “WolfZe” – another Passat – and an old Nordwind Class. The tug docks and sheds are lots from Somy.s “Japanese Tug Set”. I modified the docks to appear less modern, and removed the small Japanese-style tugs so “AP’s” models could be used. The tugs and mooring dolphins are by “AP”. At the far end of the Replenishment Dock siding is a “directional switch out”. If the dock area is too crowded, a train can “park” here until there’s an opening – or they can use the “T” track layout to reverse the direction of the engine. Thereby avoiding space-consuming track loops. Note the sand dunes on the left. The degree of vegetation on and around them indicates the dunes have “stabilized” and are in the early stages of being grown-over. The “Poseidon Terrain Brush” MOD is excellent for making sand dunes and, THANX to @MissVanleider and her “Sand Dune Coastline” tutorial – I loved it instantly! However, I took a little different approach. Instead of making low sand dunes (7.5 meters), I chose to go for tall dunes (15 meters). I think the added height allows for deeper shadows and depressions between the dunes – and allows room to apply foliage down the side of a dune to accentuate the slope. MANY THANKS to @Barroco Hispano for his generosity in providing so many beautiful warships. SPECIAL THANKS to my partner -- @AP -- for volunteering his very considerable talents, valuable time, and vivid imagination in helping me bring the Imperial Dockyards to life. If you enjoyed anything you saw – please punch the “like” button so I will know. A comment would be even more informative. Comments and critiques requested and gratefully accepted. All questions answered promptly to the best of my 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 https://community.simtropolis.com/forums/topic/761469-simtropolis-shipyard/?tab=comments#comment-1766496

Italian pre-dreadnought battleship Regina Elena – a 4 ship class -- 13,807 tons – 22 knots – 2x12-inch guns – 12x8-inch guns – belt armor 9.8 inches. They were the fastest battleships in the world when launched, and are sometimes referred to as the precursor of the battlecruiser concept. IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: CUXHAVEN By: Dreadnought & AP Chapter 08: THE ITALIAN, THE FIRST LORD, DREADNOUGHT, & THE UNEXPECTED. Vittorio Cuniberti – 1854 - 1913. A Naval Engineer in the Regina Marina (Italian Navy). Despite the poor quality of the photo, you get the idea. Typical “handlebar” mustache of the period, hair parted in the middle – and enough medals to choke a horse! Cuniberti was born in Turin and joined the “Genio Navale” in 1878. This department of the Italian Navy specialized in ship design and construction. He rose through the ranks and was promoted Major General in 1910. His best work was the design and building of the Regina Elena Class pre-dreadnought battleships of 1901. At 22 knots, they were the fastest battleships of their day. But he would come down to us in history as the author of an article in the 1903 edition of “Jane’s Fighting Ships”. His article put forth the case for building “all-big-gun” fighting ships. Up to this time, the various navies of the World had been building slow, thickly armored battleships (pre-dreadnoughts) with as many as four different calibers of guns aboard. The ships were lumbering, short and tubby, and overloaded with armor and guns. The idea was to waddle your way alongside the enemy and let fly with everything you had. Gunnery was a low priority – “What...?? Gunnery practice? Good God, Man!! That leaves powder stains on the paintwork!!” It was questionable as to how many of those shells would actually find their way to the target. Not to mention the fact that there was so much experimentation with ships, guns, and armor, that it was nearly impossible to form any sort of scientific theories or achieve any concrete results. But Cuniberti proposed a simple and streamlined ship – his “Colossus of the Seas”. She would be long, and low, with only guns and funnels above decks, with a minimal command bridge. This would produce a smaller target silhouette and remove all deck clutter that might be shredded or set on fire. And his theoretical ship would be fast. With a speed advantage, she could choose to attack or withdraw, or to select an engagement range that was to her advantage. She would carry a single caliber of gun – the biggest in existence at the time – the 12-inch gun. And his “Colossus” would be armored thickly enough to be impenetrable against anything up to the 12-inch guns of an enemy. Cuniberti envisioned a battery of twelve big guns – giving him a significant edge over the competition’s usual four. Cuniberti painted a vivid picture for his readers. His ship would quickly close with the enemy and unleash such a powerful broadside she would devastate first one enemy ship, then the next one in line, and the next – eventually chasing down and destroying an entire enemy fleet! He even theorized a squadron of six such “Colossi” would be so overwhelming as to deter any opponent. Among all this “theoretical” rapture, he mentioned one down-side – the cost. He said this sort of ship would only be available to a “...navy at the same time most potent, and very rich”. So your nation had to be strong at sea – with lots of money to spend. That does kind of narrow the field a bit. Cuniberti did, in fact, propose a design for the Italian Navy, but the government declined on the grounds of projected costs. They did, however, give him a consolation prize – permission to publish his thesis in “Jane’s Fighting Ships”. And there is one final item of significant interest. Cuniberti’s article was published well before the 1905 Battle of Tsushima – but the battle would endorse his theory. Once the smoke had settled and all the foreign observers filed their “After Action” reports, four things stood out. (1) Having too many gun calibers on a ship made it difficult to “spot the fall of shot”. Simply put – with so many shells of nearly the same caliber falling around a target, it was impossible to tell if yours had hit or missed. (2) The Russian ships had tall hull silhouettes and “piled-up” superstructures – making easy targets for Japanese gunners, and providing lots of material that caused showers of deadly splinters and thick, voluminous clouds of smoke when it caught fire. (3) The faster Japanese ships were able to control the range, while the slower Russians had no hope of escape. And – most importantly – (4) the real damage to the Russian ships had been caused by the 12-inch guns of the Japanese fleet. All the smaller guns were not much more than “smoke and noise” makers. Until Cuniberti published his article in the prestigious “Janes” annual, there had been talk of “all-big-gun” ships, but it had been just that – talk. A naval architect over here – a constructor over there – and an admiral dining with a friend in his London “club”. They all “talked” over luncheon or speculated over their after dinner brandy and cigars. But the article opened their eyes. This Italian naval architect was seriously advocating the idea. Which meant the neighboring Austrians must be considering it. And the French! And worst of all – “Kaiser Bill’s” navy as well!! And this was not idle speculation. “Jane’s Fighting Ships” (Fred T. Jane – editor) was published, annually, in a bound volume organized into sections by nation – Great Britain, Germany, United States, Romania, Greece, etc, etc. It listed every nation with naval assets – no matter how small. If Monaco had a tugboat with a machine gun – it got a mention. The “national” sections listed ships by type and class and told you how many, how big, how many guns, how much armor, how fast – etc, etc. Granted – this intelligence was not always perfectly accurate – and it may have been obtained by less than “sporting” means. But “Jane’s” was, pretty much, a “who’s who” and “what’s what” of your potential enemy’s fleet. Everyone was known to read “Jane’s” (or Brassey’s Naval Annual) like a “Bible”. Everyone -- from junior officers to cabinet ministers. And that’s where “The First Sea Lord” takes center stage. Sir John Arbuthnot Fisher – 1841 - 1920 -- 1st Baron Fisher of Kilverstone. Known to his friends as “Jackie” – and to his enemies by less polite names. And – he obviously wins the competition for wearing the most medals! By 1903, the political atmosphere in Britain was growing increasingly suspicious. Between 1890 and 1903, Germany had launched twelve pre-dreadnought battleships and had six more on the builders slips. The Royal Navy certainly had more battleships, but she also had to maintain the strength of the Mediterranean Fleet, the Channel Fleet, The Atlantic Fleet, and the Home Fleet -- in addition to a handful of battleships operating as support for colonial stations. The German Navy had no such commitments and was able to concentrate her battleship strength in home waters – the North Sea. The British saw the German fleet as a direct threat to their naval supremacy – the first threat since Trafalgar, a century before. What’s more the naval threat was backed by the overwhelming power of the German army. All too clearly, the British understood that if the Hochseeflotte could control the North Sea for only a few days, the German army could land in England and easily defeat their much smaller army. The only plausible answer seemed to be building more and more battleships – and faster. But they say...”As the challenge arises, so rises the man to the challenge”. John Fisher entered the Royal Navy as a cadet in 1854, at age thirteen. From his first days in training, he was eager to learn, and quick to apply what he had learned. He was energetic, enthusiastic, and clever. He did, however, have a disconcerting habit of questioning his instructors until he had exhausted the block of instruction, as well as the instructor. As he grew older, and quickly rose through the ranks, he became known as a...”man who demanded to be heard, and one who didn’t suffer fools gladly”. When Fisher argued a point, he often became quite agitated. On one occasion, King Edward VII, an admirer and staunch supporter, finally had to ask him to quit shaking his fist in the Royal face! It should also be noted that Fisher was capable of being quite charming and persuasive when it suited his purpose. His easy charm, turned on and off like a light switch, often covered his taciturn nature and frequently made up for blunt or tactless comments. Fisher was a bit eccentric, and around 1877 he became interested in dancing. So much so, that he insisted all his ship’s officers should dance on deck in the evenings when the ship’s band played for the senior officer’s wardroom. In the Victorian navy, influence was often more important than being proficient, and Fisher used his charm and skill on the dance floor to sway politically important ladies. (Because they knew just how and who to influence.) The really odd thing about the man, is that he suffered from sea sickness his entire life. Putting all the “quirks” aside, Fisher believed the fleet should be efficient, proficient, and instantly ready for war. All his reforms and innovations were aimed at modernizing the fleet and making it “battle-ready”. And anything standing in the way should be swept away. “Anyone who opposes me, I crush”...was a frequent comment, and this autocratic streak grew worse as Fisher grew older. So did his unshakable belief in himself and his ideas. Whatever he believed to be correct -- MUST be correct. Along with “efficient and proficient” was his belief promotion should be based upon merit. And “merit” included officers skilled and knowledgeable in the modern weapons of war – torpedoes, gunnery science, submarines, and fast ships. (Fisher had a mania for speed – conducted all his fleet maneuvers at “flank speed”.) This belief in merit automatically divided the Royal Navy into two groups. The younger officers, learning new weapons systems and striving for promotion – and -- the “Old Salts”. The “Old Salts” were battleship captains waiting patiently for promotion to rear admiral -- and admirals commanding squadrons or fleets, “putting in their time”, waiting for promotion, an honorific title, and a job at the Admiralty. Fisher, quite reasonably, believed nations only fought wars for material gain. If Britain had a strong fleet, it would deter others from engaging her in a war. If they attacked her colonial possessions, the Royal Navy could choke off the sea lanes. If an enemy attempted to invade the Island Kingdom, the Royal Navy would destroy them before they came within sight of land. The might, and much vaunted reputation, of the Royal Navy was the best possible deterrence against war. “On the British fleet rests the British Empire”...as Fisher pointedly remarked in crucial negotiations with the Chancellor Of the Exchequer. Fisher also believed defeated armies could be rebuilt quickly, while a catastrophic defeat at sea could lose a war in a single battle, in a single day. The notion of losing the war in a single day became something of a “bogey-man” for British admirals and politicians. Everyone expected great things from the Royal Navy – but were afraid to take the risks needed to achieve them. In the end, prudent caution would win out over Nelsonian heroics. The possibilities of the “single-day-battle” was wholly based on the theory of “The Climactic Battle”. This idea, while plausible, was -- in reality -- very nearly impossible to achieve. Since Hannibal crushed the Romans at Cannae in 216BC, every admiral or general has sought the “Climactic Battle” – or battle of annihilation. For three years during the American Civil War, Robert E. Lee sought to out-maneuver and crush his opponents. Though brilliantly done, Lee never understood the first armies of the “Modern Era” were too large and complex to be overwhelmed and shredded. Nelson actually achieved the battle of annihilation at Trafalgar in 1805, through his genius, audacity, and the substandard performance of the French and Spanish fleets. Togo achieved a similar victory a century later at Tsushima, through sound tactical execution and the utter ineptitude of his Russian opponents. However, sinking an entire fleet of heavily armored, smoke belching, fire-breathing, 20th Century pre-dreadnoughts in a single engagement, was a completely different problem. Unfortunately, Jutland did not provide a conclusive fleet engagement. Which brings us back to where Cuniberti came in. Admiral Togo on the bridge of his flagship Mikasa as the Japanese battleships steam in line ahead formation -- closing on the approaching Russian ships. Note the early version of a rangefinder in use directly behind Togo. By early 1902, Fisher had been promoted to full admiral and was finishing up a three-year tour as Commander, Mediterranean Fleet – the preeminent posting in the Edwardian Era Royal Navy. He had made great progress in training his officers to function in the “modern” navy, rather than the “Victorian” navy – but he had begun to realize training ships and crews to be superior to all others might not be enough. He was looking for an “edge” and thought faster ships might be the answer. He had made the acquaintance of a naval constructor while in Malta, and they began working on rough sketches and design ideas for new ships that might better utilize his trained crews and modern methods. The year 1903 found Fisher taking up his new post as Commander-In-Chief, Portsmouth, when the Cuniberti article was published. While he never gave any inspirational credit to Cuniberti, it is certain he was familiar with the article and his other theories. Fisher could not have avoided them. Since the “big gun” proposal had now been published, it was more imperative than ever to act. This just might be the “edge” he was looking for. Fisher gathered an unofficial group of advisors (mostly naval architects and shipbuilders) in early 1904 and went to work on his earlier sketches and concept designs to formulate the ideal characteristics for a battleship. The time was fast approaching when he could make these theories a reality. On 20 October 1904, Admiral John Fisher was appointed First Sea Lord of the Admiralty, and was further promoted “Admiral Of The Fleet” in December. The decision was made by the government, and approved by King Edward VII, to bring Fisher into the Admiralty to reduce the naval budgets, and reform the navy along modern lines – efficient and proficient. The feeling was the Royal Navy had become too large, too expensive, and too hide-bound to measure up against the growing naval arms race with Germany. And Fisher was seen as the relentless, driving Juggernaut to correct the problem. One of his first acts was to push through the Board Of Admiralty a decision to arm the next battleship with 12-inch guns, with a speed of no less than 21 knots. (In direct agreement with Cuniberti’s proposal.) In January 1905, he convened a formal “Committee On Designs” (including many of his former advisors) to evaluate design proposals and to assist in the detailed design process. At the same time, Fisher provoked massive public controversy and inter-service opposition as he ruthlessly laid-up 64 ships in reserve and scrapped 90 obsolete ships, characterizing them as...”too weak to fight and too slow to run away -- a miser’s hoard of useless junk”. This freed-up crews and operating funds to increase the numbers of large, modern ships in home waters. He trimmed 3.5 million Pounds from the 1905 naval estimates – and was still able to institute new building and training programs that greatly increased the fleet’s effectiveness. HMS Lord Nelson – 1908. The last class of British pre-dreadnought battleships – 17,820 tons – 18 knots – 4x12-inch guns – 6x9.2-inch guns – 5x18 inch torpedo tubes – sister ship HMS Agamemnon. HMS Dreadnought – 1906. The first all-big-gun battleship in the World – 18,120 tons – 21 knots – 10x12-inch guns. The Committee On Design produced their final design in record time and Fisher immediately pushed it through the Board of Admiralty. HMS Dreadnought was ordered in April 1905 -- laid down in October 1905 – launched in February 1906, and commissioned into the Royal Navy in December 1906. It still holds the world record for the fastest building time for a Capital ship. Considering the huge number of innovations in the design – it was a miracle – and a costly one at 1.8 million Pounds! HMS Dreadnought moored quayside for the installation of new gunnery equipment. This is an excellent overall view of the revolutionary new warship. The arrangement of the five main battery turrets is clearly visible, with excellent firing arcs for broadside fire. The forward superstructure is compact with two funnels. Just outboard of her, a Midgard Class tug is towing a barge crane to its’ next repair job. Tug, barge, and crane courtesy of "AP". Another view of Dreadnought. A real “bruiser” for her day, just eight years later she would be considered small compared to her larger and more modern cousins. The quay is a series of re-lotted PEG-SNM Series “battleship” docks with 1x1 custom lots used to fill-in between the dock and the rail line. In this view, you can see the forward bridge structure, with a funnel right behind it, and a heavy tripod mast with a “spotting top” right behind that. The only reason they could have arranged it in that order was to position the funnels at either end of the boiler rooms below decks. With the funnel between the bridge and foremast, thick clouds of black smoke would have made the upper bridge uninhabitable in a trailing wind. And with a head wind, the funnel gases and smoke would have blown right back into the spotting tops – blinding the spotters and making their perch unbearably hot. Believe it or not – that mistake would be made more than once. In the top right, a Midgard Class tug is passing with a “double tow” bound for the coaling docks. The beautiful little tug and coal lighters are by "AP". This view shows a problem common to warships of the pre-World-War period. Of Dreadnought’s ten big guns, only eight can fire in broadside – where battleships do most of their fighting. In effect – during battle – one of the “wing turrets” will always be unable to engage the target. The simple solution would have been to lengthen the bow and place two “superfiring” turrets up forward. But – British designers had no previous experience with “stacked” turrets, and the seagoing officers feared the blast over-pressure from the top turret would enter the open sighting hoods of the lower turret – disabling or killing the gun crew. In this close-up, you can clearly see the spotting top on the tripod foremast. This was one of Dreadnought’s revolutionary features. Before “gunnery science” came into being, battle ranges were around 2,000 to 3,000 yards – close enough for Turret Captains or bridge officers to see the fall of their own shells with high-powered binoculars. As guns grew larger, they could actually shoot farther than you could see to aim. When the range of torpedoes reached 2,000 yards, as well – it became imperative to open the range to avoid the torpedoes – and a method to shoot farther had to be invented. Thanks to Fisher’s relentless drive, and Capt. Percy Scott’s ingenuity, “Director Firing” was introduced beginning with HMS Dreadnought. “Director Control” equipment was installed below decks and communicated with wide angle rangefinders installed in the “spotting top” on the tripod mast. Now all main battery guns could be fired with the press of a button. “Spotters” in the tops would be able to see the shell splashes through the rangefinders, and corrections could be made quickly and easily. Gunnery scores at much longer ranges rose from the previous 40% to 80% hits. That made HMS Dreadnought not only heavily armed – but deadly dangerous. Here is a “detail shot” of the beautiful and highly accurate model provided by @Barroco Hispano. The “all-big-gun” battleship was now a reality – and Cuniberti’s thesis had become fact. HMS Dreadnought brought down the curtain on the “Pre-Dreadnought Era” and gave her name to the new type of “dreadnought” battleships, and a new era. And that brings us to the “unexpected” part of the tale. When the Committee On Designs finished their work on Dreadnought, they immediately set to work on another of Fisher’s concept sketches. The new battleship had been designed to ensure the Royal Navy’s superiority in battle fleet engagements, and was more amenable to the conservative big-gun admirals. The new project would ensure that Britain’s sea lanes and colonial possessions would be safe from marauding enemies – a massive new armored cruiser. Fisher seems to have had conflicting trains of thought at this point. Having built Dreadnought with a speed of 21 knots, she was quite capable of operating with the existing armored cruisers. But their speed averaged 23 knots – barely sufficient to scout ahead of the battle fleet. And though faster and more powerful than their German counterparts (mostly), they did not possess either of these qualities to any overwhelming degree. Fisher thought the armored cruisers could be put to better use if they were faster. He had always been overly fascinated by fast ships, and saw them as tactically decisive – which appealed to his nature. W.H. Gard, Chief Constructor at HM Dockyard Portsmouth, had been on Fisher’s earlier “advisory board” and was now a member of the Committee On Designs. While with Fisher, in Malta, he had proposed a 25.5 knot armored cruiser armed with sixteen 9.2 inch guns, and that became the focus of discussion. But Dreadnought had whetted Fisher’s appetite and he now saw the possibilities of marrying the “all-big-gun” theory to a very fast armored cruiser. It was quickly decided the new cruiser would be armed with the same main battery gun as Dreadnought – the 12-inch gun. Using this gun would effectively counter ships being built for the Italian and Japanese navies. This would also simplify the process of gun manufacturing and ammunition procurement – thereby lowering costs and giving the new cruiser a massive offensive capability. Coupled with a 25.5 knot speed, the ship would be able to catch and sink any existing enemy cruisers with her overwhelming gun power. At the same time, she would be heavily armed enough to defend herself against almost any warship – while still having the option to disengage at high speed. As the design began to take shape, it was agreed the new cruiser might be a suitable candidate to fulfill the role of the “fast wing” of the battle fleet. And Fisher may well have thought the new cruiser might eventually evolve into a potentially cheaper alternative to the much more expensive battleship. (Fisher’s quick mind operated simultaneously on several different levels – not all of which came together in the end.) But the thought of completely eliminating battleships was never seriously considered, largely due to the storm of opposition this would elicit from every corner – including the Board of Admiralty, seagoing officer ranks – and the public. Due to the system of alliances Europe had twisted itself into, and the obvious naval challenge from Germany, the committee quickly concluded the Royal Navy would potentially have to meet challenges in the Baltic Sea, North Sea, English Channel, and the Mediterranean. With the Kaiserliche Marine mostly concentrated in the North Sea, the possible threat to trade routes was not considered serious. And, from a purely tactical point of view, the Home Fleet needed a replacement for the existing, slow armored cruisers if they were going to operate effectively against the Hochseeflotte. Consequently, the primary duty of the new cruisers would be scouting for the fleet. Their high speed and powerful guns would enable them to destroy or brush aside enemy cruiser or destroyer screens, report the location and composition of the enemy fleet, and then retire without engaging heavy units. Since their firepower and speed would prevail against their enemies, and ensure their escape from enemy battleships, it was further decided they did not need to be armored against anything larger than an 8.3-inch gun (standard armament on German armored cruisers). Another possible task for the new armored cruisers was the aforementioned “Fast Wing” of the battle fleet. They could deploy ahead or astern of the battle fleet as protection against sudden cruiser or destroyer attacks. They might maneuver to present a threat to enemy battleships – only engaging if circumstances were favorable. As mentioned before, the new armored cruisers could be used to pressure the vanguard of an enemy fleet and force them onto a course advantageous to the British. Their speed advantage would allow them to successfully pursue a retreating enemy force and damage or destroy slow or “wounded” ships. And, of course, they were ideally suited to destroying commerce raiding cruisers and armed merchant cruisers. Fisher’s fertile brain even conceived the bizarre notion they might maneuver against the rear of the German battle-line and engage the smaller battleships, such as the Wittelsbach Class. SMS Zahringen – Wittelsbach Class pre-dreadnought battleship 11,774 tons – 18 knots – 4x9.4-inch guns – 18x5.9-inch guns – 12x3.5-inch guns – 6x17.7-inch torpedo tubes – belt armor 8.9 inches. Admiral Fisher planned to use his new 12-inch-gunned “dreadnought cruisers” to attack the elderly, lightly armed and armored pre-dreadnoughts bringing up the rear of the German battle line. The Committee On Design finalized the “particulars” of the new armored cruisers, Gard’s architects and draftsmen finished the plan drawings, and they met for the last time on 22 February 1905. The Board Of Admiralty approved Dreadnought’s design on 17 March, and the new armored cruiser design on 7 July 1905. Dreadnought was laid down on 2 October, 1905 at HM Dockyard, Portsmouth – reputed to be the fastest shipyard in the World. The new battleship was to be built under conditions of strict secrecy, with the building slip completely screened-off from outside observation, and the area kept off-limits to all but the work force. Fisher fully intended Dreadnought’s particulars to be kept secret in order to delay other nations from building competing battleships. He also intended Dreadnought’s secret to be a “decoy”. Even though the new armored cruiser would be laid down at Armstrong, Whitworth & Co., Ltd, on Tyneside, in the north of England, Fisher hoped to divert attention from her by giving “foreign interests” a high-profile “secret” in the most likely place – Portsmouth. The deception was a success. The appearance of HMS Dreadnought in December, 1906, was akin to a bomb going off in the Reichsmarineamt, as well as the Palace in Berlin. Admiral Tirpitz instantly realized he had just commissioned a new Deutschland Class pre-dreadnought battleship – and had four more fitting out. And Dreadnought had made them all obsolete! Meanwhile, up on Tyneside, the new armored cruiser was laid down just a few weeks after Dreadnought was commissioned. Again, the ship was built in strict secrecy, and it was even arranged for false information to be leaked -- leading people to believe the new ships were merely improved versions of the recent Minotaur Class armored cruisers. A year later, she was christened HMS Invincible at her launching, and eleven months on she was commissioned into the 1st Cruiser Squadron, Home Fleet -- 20 March 1909. (Her two sister ships, Indomitable and Inflexible, had been commissioned in the last half of 1908, but they were either in the dockyards for “working-up” adjustments, or sent on voyages to North America – more or less out of European sight.) In April and June Invincible participated in fleet maneuvers. On 9 June, with the rest of the Home Fleet, she steamed up the Solent and dropped anchor at Spithead, where the Atlantic Fleet would soon arrive for the Spithead Naval Review of 1909. Naval reviews were, in those days, more like social events than military affairs. And this one, in particular, because it kicked-off the festivities for “Cowes Week”, the annual yachting regatta hosted by King Edward VII. Ships of various nations were invited to attend, as were diplomats, naval attaches, industrialists, and military officers of all branches and nationality. And this is where the world got its’ first good look at HMS Invincible and her sisters. HMS Invincible lies at anchor during the Spithead Naval Review of 1909. Note the steamer alongside. She would steam up and down the six lines of anchored warships providing sightseers a close look at the might of the Royal Navy. Information about the new armored cruiser had been trickling into the Reichsmarineamt for well over a year, but it all turned out to be erroneous. Once the 1st Cruiser Squadron (Invincible – Inflexible -- Indomitable) dropped anchor in the Solent, it was painfully obvious none of the information had been reliable. German officers, diplomats, and dignitaries were welcomed aboard the new armored cruisers as quests, and they knew, without doubt, that it was “game over”. These cruisers were obviously bigger, surely faster, and certainly more heavily gunned than anything in the Kaiserliche Marine. And that included the battleships! Neither Tirpitz, nor the Imperial Navy High Command had suspected the new British cruisers could be this innovative and powerful. And three of them already in service! But there is always the – “unexpected” – isn’t there? The 1st Cruiser Squadron of the Home Fleet lies moored at buoys just outside the Cuxhaven roadsted breakwater. They are returning a courtesy port call circa 1911. (Left to right – HMS Invincible, Inflexible, Indomitable.) These port calls by foreign navies were always festive occasions, with much “show and ceremony”. A large number of civilian small craft have gathered to see the big British cruisers up close. The tourists are immensely entertained by such simple things as “morning and evening color” ceremonies – when the ship’s bands play the national anthem while the flag is raised in the morning and lowered in the evening, while a detachment of sailors is assembled to “salute the colors”. The steamer SS Lorena (foreground) has come down from Hamburg with a boatload of sightseers on a “day trip”. In the evenings, the British captains might even have the ship’s band serenade the small craft anchored nearby. These ostentatious shows of courtesy were quite common in the Edwardian Age. Here we have two views of the SS Lorena. She was, in reality, a British packet steamer out of the Humber, sometime in the late 1930’s and early 1940’s. But for our purposes, she’s a packet steamer down from Hamburg. When I came across the photo of Invincible and the steamer, it seemed too good an opportunity to pass up. The model is provided by Barroco Hispano, and is a prefect little gem of detail. The sailing ketch in the upper right is by @mattb325, while the remaining small craft are from NBVC’s marina sets. Here you have an excellent view of Invincible. She has a long and sleek appearance, with a rather tall and compact superstructure, and funnels grouped forward and aft, separated by the midships main battery turrets. There are large open areas of deck, with a minimum of clutter. The ship’s boat boom has been extended, with a motor launch tied on. The Port Admiral has placed the motor launch and crew at the disposal of the squadron commander (Rear Admiral Sir Horace Hood) for the duration of the visit. The very fine armored cruiser models are courtesy of Barroco Hispano. (It should be noted the British did not officially adopt the term “battlecruiser” until late in 1911.) The boat boom, motor launch, and small cutter are the finely detailed work of "AP". This is a detail shot. Amidships you see a problem common to many capital ships prior to WW I. In their desperation to maximize the number of guns on a warship, designers often used “wing turrets” placed amidships. In this instance, the two center turrets have been placed in such a manner that they might, possibly, be able to fire cross-deck on either beam. Theoretically, this would allow an eight gun broadside. In reality, the port side turret, firing cross-deck to starboard, would have a very narrow arc of fire (unless you were willing to fire over the top of the starboard wing turret – not recommended.) And – the blast over-pressure of a 12-inch gun would rip the planking right off the deck, buckle the steel deck plates beneath it, buckle any superstructure plates within 40 feet, and make toothpicks out of nearby ship’s boats. The fact was, though Invincible carried eight main battery guns, she only had a six-gun broadside. This is the chief reason broadside fire was so important and why battle formations were “single-line-ahead” – to maximize broadside firing arcs. (Note: If you examine the cutter hooking onto the boat boom, you will see the boat crew has their oars raised to the “oars up” position for docking. “AP” likes everything done “ship-shape” and proper.) SMS Scharnhorst had been assigned to the East Asiatic Squadron in March 1909, as a matter of course. She was to relieve the aging Furst Bismarck. As squadron flagship, she was one of the most powerful armored cruisers in the Far East. Four months after Scharnhorst’s departure, the Naval High Command scrutinized the new information on the British armored cruisers displayed at Spithead, and found the situation grim. These British “dreadnought style” cruisers clearly out-classed all of Germany’s armored cruisers – and sending German cruisers against them would be something akin to murdering one’s own ships and crews. (Early on, the Invincible’s were actually referred to as “dreadnought cruisers”.) And yet – Gneisenau was a new and powerful ship. So they arrived at the decision to send her to the Far East where her power and presence might still be of use. And that’s why both of Germany’s finest armored cruisers wound up on the other side of the World. Plans had been made, keels hand been laid, and ships had been built. But Fisher’s deception and HMS Invincible had upset all the careful planning of the Reichsmarineamt. Tirpitz had spent large amounts of money on two very fine cruisers that were, in the end, almost worthless to him. Though valuable assets in the Far East, Scharnhorst and Gneisenau would be of little use in the North Sea – where Tirpitz knew the issue would ultimately be decided. But it is difficult to plan for -- the unexpected. HMS Inflexible – Invincible Class battlecruiser – circa 1911. NEXT TIME…… CORONEL AND THE FALKLANDS MANY, MANY, MANY, THANKS to @Barroco Hispano for his beautiful and highly detailed warships. VERY SPECIAL THANKS to my partner -- @AP -- for the immense amount of time and effort he has so generously put into this project. Without him “Cuxhaven” would not exist. If you enjoyed anything you saw – please punch the “like” button so I will know. A comment would be even more informative. Comments and critiques requested and gratefully accepted. All questions answered promptly to the best of my ability. THANK YOU for your visit and the COMMENTS many of you have been kind enough to make! 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 https://community.simtropolis.com/forums/topic/761469-simtropolis-shipyard/?tab=comments#comment-1766496

SMS Scharnhorst - 1908 – Photographed during her speed trials. IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: CUXHAVEN By: Dreadnought & AP Chapter 07: THE LAST OF THE ARMORED CRUISERS Once the Oberkommando der Marine faced the fact that Admiral Tirpitz (Secretary Of State for the Navy) was building a fleet to be used against Great Britain, the whole course of strategic thinking changed. The design for the next class of armored cruisers was well under way, when the naval architects received a directive in mid-1904. The new design should be a considerably improved version of the Roon Class that would be capable of not only parity with British cruisers, but should be able to fight with the battle line in an emergency. This was, in many respects, a giant leap for the Imperial Navy. And though they did not yet know it, the entire concept of naval design would soon outstrip anything they had ever known. Another shot of Scharnhorst – on her second day of speed trials. Note the height of the bow wave in relation to the people on the forecastle. SCHARNHORST CLASS ARMORED CRUISERS The new cruisers would be the Scharnhorst Class (sister ship Gneisenau). Some naval analysts call them the last German armored cruisers. Some call them the last “traditional” class of German armored cruisers. And still other analysts make no distinction whatever. I have always thought of these ships as the last “true” German armored cruisers to be built – because what followed them was “neither fish nor foul” (to borrow a line from Shakespeare). But there will be more on that subject in the next chapter. The new design was based on incremental improvements of the preceding classes, beginning with Prinz Heinrich, and was the final culmination of that evolutionary process. The ship was named after Generalleutnant Gerhard von Scharnhorst, a Prussian army reformer during the Napoleonic Era. Perhaps his greatest contribution was laying the groundwork for the command and control concept that would become the “Great General Staff”. Scharnhorst was laid down in march 1905 at Blohm & Voss, Hamburg, and commissioned into the fleet in October of 1907. Scharnhorst Class – Plan Profile. The new armored cruisers displaced 12,985 tons -- about a 3,500 ton increase over the Roon Class, and roughly comparable with cruiser displacement in the Royal Navy. The bulk of the added tonnage would go to increased armament, additional armor, and an increase in speed. At 474 feet, she was nearly 25 feet longer than Roon, and the additional length was quite becoming. It displayed the long, clean lines well, and gave her a “sleek” look that bespoke speed and power. The hull was built with transverse and longitudinal steel frames, over which, the hull plating was riveted. These ships were designed with 15 watertight compartments and a double bottom over 50% of the ship’s length. Here you see Scharnhorst at her mooring buoy in the West Loch of Cuxhaven naval base. This picture gives a good view of the “streamlined” hull form. Her “length-to-beam” ratio is about 6.5 to 1, which naval architects sometimes call the “Golden Ratio”. It is considered the optimal ratio for fast hull forms (without going to extremes). On the left, you see a Midgard Class tug passing outboard of a Jupiter Class collier (more on that one later). The cruiser’s triple screw arrangement was driven by three 3-cylinder triple-expansion engines powered by 18 coal-fired, water-tube boilers, with 36 fire boxes. The boiler uptakes were trunked into four funnels, a bit taller than usual, to keep the bridge and fighting-tops clear of smoke in a following wind. The engine design was rated at 26,000 shp for a speed of 22.5 knots, but on trials Scharnhorst achieved 28,782 shp for a speed of 23.5 knots. Gneisenau generated 30,396 shp and managed 23.6 knots. The maximum coal bunker capacity was 2,000 tons, which provided an operating radius of 4,800 miles at 14 knots. The crew was made up of 52 officers and 788 enlisted men. This is an excellent broadside view of the cruiser. Amidships, you see the slab-sided, pyramid-like arrangement of broadside guns. The two round, yellow-ocher, turrets are two 8.3-inch guns mounted in “turreted casemates” on either broadside. The three guns below that are 5.9-inch secondary guns mounted in casemated turrets at main deck level. Notice the searchlights in both fighting tops, and two each mounted on a broadside platform between the second and third funnels. I should also mention the paint scheme. The white hull – yellow-ocher upper works – and black funnel caps – is the standard paint scheme of the Imperial Navy on foreign duty stations. Since Scharnhorst served most of her career as flagship of the East Asiatic Squadron, she was assigned an additional 14 officers and 62 enlisted men as the squadron commander’s staff. No one really stops to think about the requirements of squadron command. But as the only German Asian Station, the ships based at Tsingtao were responsible for an area stretching from Vladivostok, Russia, to Sydney, Australia, and from Bombay, India, to the shores of sunny California – virtually the entire, vast, Pacific Ocean. Scharnhorst did not spend a great deal of time lying at anchor off Tsingtao -- she spent much of her time at sea, even visiting the tiny Pacific island archipelagos. And having ships scattered in all directions, carrying out a multitude of duties, required a well-trained and competent staff. Whether you’re a squadron commander or a fleet commander, competent staff work could spell the difference between victory or defeat. (Royal Navy Signals Officers would prove particularly troublesome when the “big show” came in the North Sea.) Previous scene from a different angle. The cruiser, motor launch, mooring buoy, boat boom, small boats, collier, and the cruiser in the right lower corner, are all courtesy of @AP. The cruiser’s main battery comprised eight 8.3-inch SK-L/40 (QF) guns – double the number on the Roon Class. Four of the guns were mounted in two hydraulically operated DrL-C/01 twin turrets, one fore and one aft of the main superstructure, on the centreline. The remaining four 8.3-inch guns were mounted amidships, two on either beam, in casemated single turrets. These guns had electric training, but only manual elevation. It is worth noting these guns were positioned on the weather deck -- high enough to remain dry during high speeds or even extremely rough weather. The fore and aft turreted guns could fire a 238-lb armor-piercing shell out to 18,000 yards at a rate of 5 rounds per minute. The turreted casemate guns had a limited elevation and could only reach 13,500 yards. A total allowance of 700 shells were stored in the magazines. This view shows a flag hoist flying from the foremast signaling “raise steam – five hours” – indicating to other ships of the squadron to prepare for departure. A motor launch has pulled alongside with final orders for the squadron, and overseas dispatches and diplomatic communications to be delivered along the way. Scharnhorst, flagship of the small squadron, is bound for Tsingtao to relieve the old flagship of the East Asiatic Squadron – Furst Bismarck. The secondary battery was made up of six 5.9-inch SK-L/40 (QF) guns mounted amidships in turreted casemates, three on either broadside. They fired an 88-lb shell out to approximately 14,000 yards at a rate of five rounds per minute. These guns, as usual, were mounted too low in the hull and during any sort of bad weather they would be awash and virtually useless. You must imagine a gun crew working ankle-deep in sea water – passing 88-lb shells, loading, aiming, and firing – at about ten second intervals – over, and over, and over. Now imagine the deck beneath them is rolling from side to side with the waves – and pitching up at the bow, then coming down again. And, finally – imagine the cruiser pounding into a twelve foot wave at 27 miles per hour – and the shell-handler and his shell get slammed by a solid wall of frothing water!! If you can imagine that – then you fully understand why those guns become useless in “wet” weather. For close-in torpedo boat defense, Scharnhorst carried eighteen 3.5-inch SK-L/35 (QF) guns mounted in individual casemates in the hull and superstructure, as well as on deck in pivot mounts with shields. They fired a 15-lb shell out to 9,100 yards at the rate of 15 per minute. And, of course, the obligatory submerged 17.7-inch torpedo tubes – four each – one in the bow and stern, and one on either broadside. There is a great deal of small boat activity alongside Scharnhorst. Hooking onto the boat boom is a cutter with green mail bags from shore – probably the last mail they will see for many weeks. A whale boat full of men have been recalled from shore – the last of the shore parties. And two more whale boats rowing in with their stern sheets full of officers. They have been called aboard the flagship to receive final sailing instructions. To get some idea of the level of detail “AP” has built into this model – at the ship’s bow you can see the individual and unique ship’s badge found on all medium to large size Imperial warships. This one is a shield of blue with a diagonal white stripe. Also, if you examine the forward turret, you can see a sailor straddling the left gun tube. He is applying a coat of oil to the barrels before sailing – it helps prevent rust on long voyages. Both Scharnhorst and Gneisenau were armored with Krupp Cemented Steel, and someone in the Naval High Command had finally gotten serious about catching up to the British. A series of tests at the Navy’s firing range in Meppen, proved conclusively the 3.9 inch belt of previous cruiser classes was too thin to stop even medium caliber shells. The new cruisers would have a waterline armor belt of 5.9 inches covering the midships area from the forward conning tower to just aft of the rear control position. This was a significant increase over previous armored cruisers and matched their British counterparts. Beyond the midships armor belt, a belt of 3.1 inches extended to the bow, and a similar belt ran almost to the stern. The entire belt was backed with 2.2 inches of teak planking to reduce splinter and “spalling” effects. Spalling occurs when thick, face-hardened, armor is struck by a shell that fails to penetrate the plate. Instead of penetration, the inner side of the armor plate fractures and flakes, hurling shrapnel inboard with great force. The protective armored deck varied in thickness with 2.4 inches over critical areas (magazines, engines, boilers, steering gear) and thinning to 1.4 inches in less critical places. The sloping sides (below the waterline) were 2.2 inches and connected to the bottom of the main belt. The forward conning tower was 7.9 inches, while the aft conning tower received 2 inches. The main battery turrets had 6.7-inch sides with a 1.2-inch roof, while the main battery guns in the turreted casemates were protected with 5.9-inch gun shields. The turret barbettes were 5.5 inches thick. The secondary battery turreted casemates were protected by an armored strake 5.1 inches thick, and the guns, themselves, had 3.1-inch shields. In this close-up of Scharnhorst’s stern, you can see a group of sailors lounging about on the fantail. Behind and in front of them are the skylights for the admiral’s quarters below decks. Both Scharnhorst and Gneisenau were designed to accommodate a flag officer, either as a squadron commander, or as a foreign station commander. In this case, the admiral will be sharing his quarters with four 3.5 inch anti-torpedo boat guns (mounted in the semi-circular hull sponsons at the stern). You can see four more of these guns, in pivot mounts with gun shields, grouped around the aft military mast. This also gives you a better look at “AP’s” boat-loads of officers approaching the ship. After commissioning in October 1907, Scharnhorst began sea trials, which were interrupted for a week in November. She escorted the Hohenzollern, with Wilhelm II aboard, to Vlissingen (Flushing), in the Netherlands, and then on to Portsmouth. Scharnhorst returned to Kiel to finish trials, but on 14 January, 1908, ran aground off Bulk Light on the Bulker Huk headland, near the entrance to the Kiel fjord. Repairs were completed on 22 February, and trials were wrapped-up on April 30. The remainder of 1908 was spent in normal peacetime routine, training exercises, and fleet maneuvers. And 1909 started well when she was appointed Flagship Scouting Forces, Hochseeflotte. But less than two months later, she received orders for the Far East, and would carry Konteradmiral Friedrich von Ingenohl to Tsingtao, to assume command of the East Asiatic Squadron. Upon completing preparations for the voyage, the big cruiser weighed anchor on 1 April, 1909, and departed Kiel. She transited the Kaiser Wilhelm I Canal, steamed out of the Elbe, and set course for the English Channel. This was always a poignant moment for the officers and men of a warship. They watched as the shores of the Vaterland dropped astern – and none could know when they would see home again. SMS GNEISENAU SMS Gneisenau – circa 1909 – photographed possibly in Kiel. SMS Gneisenau was ordered in June 1904, under the provisions of the Second Naval Law of 1900, and was named in honor of Generalfeldmarshall Graf Neidhardt von Gneisenau, a major player in the defeat and abdication of Napoleon Bonaparte. Her keel was laid at AG Weser Shipyard, Bremen, in December. A lengthy shipyard strike seriously delayed her launch until June 1906. At the ceremony, she was christened by Generalfeldmarschall Alfred von Schlieffen, Chief of the Great General Staff. The ship was then moved to Wilhelmshaven for the arduous fitting-out process and was finally commissioned into the fleet in March, 1908. Overlooking minor differences, and the odd ton of displacement, Gneisenau was, in all specifications, an identical twin to Scharnhorst. Sea trials began in late March and finished in mid-July, when Gneisenau was assigned to the 1st Scouting Group of the Hochseeflotte. Her first commanding officer was Kapitan zur See Franz von Hipper. Gneisenau spent just 14 months with 1st Scouting Group, sailing on the 1908 annual Atlantic cruise within days of her assignment. Two Scouting Groups and the battleship squadrons of the Hochseeflotte departed Kiel on 17 July, transited the Kaiser Wilhelm I Canal, crossed the North Sea, and on into the Atlantic. The warships practiced formation maneuvers (Often called “evolutions” rather than exercises.) -- battle tactics – and tested wireless communications over long distances. The fleet returned on 13 August, took on coal and provisions, and departed on 27 August for the Autumn maneuvers. The following year was spent in much the same way, two Atlantic cruises – February thru March -- and again in July thru August, with port calls in Spain on the Fall cruise. Later in the year, Gneisenau escorted the Kaiser’s yacht, Hohenzollern, to a location off the coast of Finland for a meeting with Tsar Nicholas II. And after one more fleet cruise to Norway, Gneisenau was given sailing orders for the Far East. SMS Gneisenau lies moored to a buoy astern of Scharnhorst in Cuxhaven’s West Loch. Pursuant to orders, she has joined the squadron bound for Tsingtao, and has been taking aboard stores and provisions for the journey. A crane barge is transferring stores from a cargo barge alongside. Having just come off the Norway cruise, the larders need filling and there is precious little time to do it. Kapitan zur See Trummler would have liked to get his engines overhauled before the long trip. But there were no docks or basins available, so the engineers will have to make do. Much of yesterday was spent in the Cuxhaven roadsted at the coaling docks. All hands (save the engineering section) were “turned to” and spent a back-breaking day shifting just over 1,400 tons of coal into the bunkers. Afterwards, the crew washed down the decks and superstructure to remove the thick film of coal dust, while the ship returned to her moorings in the West Loch. The engineers have been giving the engines a thorough examination -- adjusting drive links, tightening the odd bolt, checking for signs of wear, and lubricating everything. In the top right, you see the coastal freighter “Albatross” making it’s way through the busy harbor. And on the bottom right you see the paddle tug “Helena” towing a lighter full of various ship’s stores. The white harbor tug is from “WolfZe”, and it should be noted the paddle tug Helena and her lighter tow are “diagonal” models. Even as cargo continues to come aboard, the crew has started hoisting in the ship’s boats. You can see the ship’s crane ready to swing one inboard and secure it for sea. An Esmeralda Class paddle tug is standing by, and if you look at the tug’s masts, you can see the emergency sail rig furled along a yardarm and gaff. The cruiser, tug, and sailors are by “AP”, while the barge crane and cargo barge are borrowed from PEG’s Seaport series -- “Bubba’s Bulk Barge”. This is a close-up of the cruiser’s bow. Again, all the stays and rigging have been put in just as they would have been. And “AP” took great pains to make sure the rigging would display appropriately at various zoom levels. You see an excellent stern view of the paddle tug Esmeralda. And a nice view of two small boats approaching. They had been standing by at a nearby landing, awaiting two officers returning from leave, as well as picking up petty officers that had gone ashore on errands. In this port side view, you can see a small dingy has been hoisted and secured at its’ davits – two crewmen are unloading boxes and bags. On the stern, cargo is being hoisted aboard, broken down to smaller lots, and carried below decks. The stern companionway hatch is also open – no doubt the Kapitan’s steward has arranged for a few delicacies to grace his master’s table. Gneisenau has also brought aboard several hundred gallons of paint. She had been painted in the “foreign station colors” back in May, when she was expected to sail for China. But the Naval High Command suspended the sailing orders, feeling it would look better to foreign observers if the new cruiser was present through the training season. Consequently, she spent many days at sea in rough weather and her hull and upper-works show severe weathering. That means the squadron commander will have to find a quite little bay along the route where they can anchor and slap on some paint. (One simply does not arrive at a new duty station looking like a worn-out tramp steamer!) In this view of Gneisenau’s stern, you can see sailors on the fantail hauling boxes from the pile near the turret, down to the aft companion ladder to go below decks. This is a close-up of the replenishment operation. The white steam tug is courtesy of “WolfZe”, and is actually a bit of a “classic”. It’s patterned after harbor tugs common to many ports, but especially New York harbor in 1900 up through the 1940’s. The paddle tug on the left is a Sophia Class and the one on the right is an Esmeralda Class, both by “AP”, and both patterned after the British paddle tug “Carleton Hall”. This particular tug was launched in 1914 for use in the “Tyneside” coaling trade, but the basic form of the steam-powered paddlewheel tugboat first appeared around 1814, with the last working boats being retired around 1964. These are beautiful little boats -- colorful, historically accurate, and superbly modeled. I would have built a whole harbor just to showcase these little beauties! Another view of the offshore replenishment. The barges are by “PEG” and can be found in their “Bubba’s Bulk Barge” download (STEX). But I caution you – working with them is a real headache. They were originally modeled for use with a pier attached to land – which meant they could be “anchored” to the shore portion of the pier, and did not have to “float”. The result is that they were rendered with a hefty “offset” and can be very difficult to use. But they were exactly what I needed to create this scene – so I decided to “bite the bullet” and MAKE them work. The sailors wandering around atop the cargo on the barge are, of course, by “AP”. The following four shots are close-up views of the SS Albatross, a small coastal freighter much like hundreds of others that go about their business in the shallow coastal waters of every continent in the World. They are especially prevalent in Europe because so much shipping traffic is generated by the ports of Amsterdam, Rotterdam, Hamburg, and London. This is one of the first models scratch-built by @AP. He has a bit of history with the maritime world and has gone to great lengths to provide the “every day” details of a ship as well as ensuring they are as authentic as possible. If you look carefully, you will see an enormous amount of detail packed into such a small model, and for those of you interested in models without crew, there are only four crewmen on deck. It is worth noting that Albatross is flying the Imperial German merchant flag of 1889 from her stern. Albatross could be identified as any number of coastal vessels, but she is, in fact, a composite of features taken from photos of several different ships. These small coastal freighters are found everywhere, and work the English Channel, North Sea, and Baltic Sea much like today’s local delivery trucks. The next three pictures are close-ups of the Sophia Class steam paddle tug. As mentioned previously these tugs were based on the British tug Carleton Hall, and every detail has been faithfully reproduced. Sophia portrays an era when steam paddle tugs were the workhorses of the World’s harbors. Their near universal employment could be attributed to their low operating costs and simple paddle propulsion. “AP” and I are very proud of these beautiful little models. The warships in the upper left are US Navy destroyers of the Clemson Class (more on them later). Here you have another view of the tug, and especially the “lighter” carrying a variety of ship’s stores. Lighters have been in use, in one form or another, for hundreds of years. A lighter is, basically, a small, towed barge, shaped similar to a ship, used to carry a wide range of “cargo” from place to place, or to a ship anchored offshore. This may be necessary because not all ports have docks of suitable size to accommodate large ships, or because certain ports may be too shallow for large ships. Again, our lighters are based on period photos from 1880 to the 1930’s. I should mention in this view, the destroyers on the left are “ortho” models, while Sophia and her lighter are two, separate, diagonal models – just two of many to come. It has long been a problem in “seagoing SC4” that there were few diagonal ships to choose from. We intend to provide many of our ships in “diagonal” to make your harbors more realistic. At this point, you might be wondering what the Imperial Naval High Command was thinking. They finally produced a pair of “state-of-the-art” armored cruisers that were – in all probability – superior to any British armored cruiser. And – though the Hochseeflotte armored cruisers were seriously outnumbered – in 1909, the High Command chose to assign their best and most modern cruisers to the Far East. What could have brought about a decision that defies all logic? The answer lies in a convoluted series of random events, eccentric personalities, deception, and faulty espionage -- all set in motion as far back as 1903…... NEXT TIME…… THE ITALIAN, THE FIRST LORD, DREADNOUGHT, & THE UNEXPECTED. MANY, MANY. MANY. THANKS to @Barroco Hispano for his generosity, patience, and talent – in providing so many beautiful and highly detailed warships. AGAIN, MY VERY SPECIAL THANKS to @AP for volunteering his very considerable talents, valuable time, and vivid imagination in creating so many props that have added so much variety and originality to the dockyards. The Cuxhaven Series would be impossible without his “Herculean” efforts. If you enjoyed anything you saw – please punch the “like” button so I will know. A comment would be even more informative. Comments and critiques requested and gratefully accepted. All questions answered promptly to the best of my 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 https://community.simtropolis.com/forums/topic/761469-simtropolis-shipyard/?tab=comments#comment-1766496

The French armored cruiser Dupuy de Lome in the early stages of construction at the Brest Arsenal Shipyard – circa 1888. She was not a large vessel by modern standards, but she would make a big impact on world-wide naval policy. IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: CUXHAVEN By: Dreadnought & AP Chapter 03: THE ADVENT OF THE ARMORED CRUISER French cruiser Dupuy de Lome seen after fitting out – circa 1891. BIRTH OF A CONCEPT At the same time the German construction plans were mired in indecision, the French were trying to formulate a naval strategy as well. They kept a wary eye on German construction, but their real problem was Great Britain. After more than two centuries of unsatisfactory naval conflict with Britain, the French Treasury bureaucrats, several admirals, and the naval constructors, had come to the conclusion that they could never out-build the British – battleship-for-battleship. Fortunately, the young firebrands in the fleet had long been promoting a revival of the “Jeune Ecole” (the Young School). This “school” of strategic thought shunned the battleship and espoused the cruiser as the “arm of decision”. The idea was to build a greater number of less expensive, fast, heavily armed cruisers to cover the globe and decimate English trade – a commerce war. The heavily armed French cruisers could destroy any enemy cruisers sent against them, forcing the British to detach battleships from the Home Fleet to deal with the problem. With British battleships scattered all over the globe, the French battle line might hope to achieve parity in home waters – and a crushing victory. The plan did have an elegant, simple subtlety – and certainly appealed to the dashing, young captains of the fleet (who otherwise might never rise to the command of a battleship). But “protected cruisers” were no longer the best warship for the job. The developments in quick-firing guns, new propellant powders, and armor-piercing explosive shells made some sort of side armor an absolute necessity. The development of the lighter, tougher, face-hardened Krupp steel (and similar armor compounds made by other nations) made it possible by the early 1890’s to reintroduce belt armor as an option. This made the concept of the “armored cruiser” a possibility. And the French naval architects seized it. (If you’re #2 – you’re always looking for an edge!) THE DUPUY de LOME INNOVATION The cruiser Dupuy de Lome (named for her designer – Henri Dupuy de Lome) was laid down in 1888. She was intended to be an “experimental” ship, specifically built to incorporate the advancing technologies of modern guns, more efficient engines, and especially the new face-hardened (and lighter) armor. Much trial and error ensued as different types of engines, boilers, guns, and hull forms were tested, accepted, or rejected. Commissioned for “experimental service” in 1890, she would remain largely experimental until stricken in 1910 as obsolete. But she led the way, and proved the problem of balancing speed, armor, and armament could be overcome. Dupuy de Lome had a full load displacement of 6,800 tons, a length of 400 feet, and her propulsion plant could outrun any contemporary battleship at a top speed of 19.5 knots. She was very fine-lined, with armor of variable thickness distributed throughout the hull. Her armament consisted of two 7.6 inch and six 6.4 inch guns in turrets on the main deck, along with four 17.7 inch torpedo tubes in swivel mounts, two on either broadside. The entire ship’s side was protected by 3.9 inches of steel, from the weather deck to the bottom edge of the “protective armor deck” (4.5 feet below the waterline). The curved “protective deck” was 1.2 inches thick and did not rise above the waterline. Between the “protective deck” and the boilers, engines, and magazines below, was a “splinter deck” 0.31 inches thick. The space between the two decks could be filled with coal to increase protection from shell fire and shrapnel splinters. The hull below the armored deck was divided into thirteen watertight compartments, with three more above the protective deck. The conning tower was 4.9 inches thick and the turrets had 4 inches. With a cruising radius of 4,000 miles at 12.5 knots, she was ideally suited to the role of a commerce raider – a point the British were quick to recognize. Having shattered the “glass ceiling” of balancing speed, armor, and guns, Dupuy de Lome was, in fact, the first modern armored cruiser. She vaulted onto the World’s naval stage while other powers were still building “protected cruisers”. And – despite a few performance issues – she did impress many foreign navies. Dupuy de Lome – circa 1895. France’s European rivals instantly saw the possible havoc that could be wreaked on the global shipping lanes by such a ship. They just as quickly came to the conclusion that deploying battleships to protect the trade routes would not be cost-effective – and might even fail due to their slow speed. The only possible answer to a commerce-raiding armored cruiser, was to build your own armored cruiser – preferably -- bigger, faster, and meaner. Designers the world over worked long nights producing designs as fast as possible. Japan, Russia, Italy, and of course, Great Britain – who had the most to fear from commerce raiders. Even the United States built 15 armored cruisers between 1891 and 1906, of which, the Tennessee Class are regarded by naval analysts as the best of their type ever built. USS Tennessee, armored cruiser, 1906 – 14,500 tons – 504 feet length – 22 knots – 4x10 inch – 16x6 inch – 4x21 inch torpedo tubes (submerged). USS Tennessee – profile plan. ARMORED CRUISERS OF THE IMPERIAL GERMAN NAVY SMS Furst Bismarck – 1900. The first armored cruiser commissioned into the Kaiserliche Marine. Meanwhile, back in Berlin, the various departments of the Imperial Navy Office were watching the developments in France with keen interest. The construction of Dupuy de Lome was hardly “top secret” and all the necessary information could be gathered quite easily by an embassy naval attache. The disturbing part was the implications of all that information. A squadron of fast, heavily armed, French commerce raiders could not only cause havoc on German trade routes, but they could also bombard colonial ports, and possibly attack wireless transmission stations. And – the not so obvious bad news -- the Kaiserliche Marine did not have a cruiser capable of confronting such a threat. The newest “protected cruisers” in the Hochseeflotte were simply no match for Dupuy de Lome or the cruisers that would follow her. Admiral Hollman, State Secretary of the Naval Office, realized the other naval powers were no more prepared to deal with the French cruiser than Germany. Very soon, a building frenzy of bigger, more powerful cruisers would begin in Britain, Russia, and Italy. And Germany, hampered by a financially reluctant Reichstag, would also have to begin building these big cruisers – not only to protect their colonies and trade routes, but to keep pace with rival navies. These large cruisers, if not employed in commerce raiding, would find their way into the battle fleet soon enough. So the armored cruiser came to the Kaiserliche Marine – unexpected, unwanted, and – quite possibly – unfunded. SMS FURST BISMARCK Armored cruiser Furst Bismarck laying at anchor – circa 1900. Note that she has tied off to a mooring buoy, or “barrel buoy” described in the preceding chapter. Armored cruisers from this period were sometimes bigger, and often more expensive, than the existing pre-dreadnought battleships. This was largely due to increases in gun caliber, the additional side armor, and the larger propulsion plants needed for high speeds. This was very nearly the case with the Kaiserliche Marine’s first armored cruiser – SMS Furst Bismarck. Despite considerable political opposition in the Reichstag, the ship was approved in 1896, and construction began at the Kaiserliche Werft in Kiel. SMS Furst Bismarck – profile plan. Furst Bismarck was, as something of an experiment, a single ship class. It was not uncommon when designing a radical departure from previous ships, for the Kaiserliche Marine to build one, evaluate it, and then decide where to go from there. But the main reason was because the Reichstag kept a strangle-hold on the purse strings, and they hardly ever authorized more than one or two warships at a time. SMS Furst Bismarck is being nudged into her berth at mooring points in the West Loch. A Nordwind Class tug is approaching from the left, and a Passat Class from the bottom. Furst Bismarck was a big and powerful cruiser for her day – in excess of 10,000 tons – and the Kaiserliche Marine would have none bigger until the Scharnhorst Class. The breakwaters are by “Uki” and the mooring points are by “Mattb325”. The two tugs are scratch-built by @AP. And this magnificently crafted, textured, and detailed armored cruiser is the scratch-built carftsmanship of @AP. She was named after the famed “Iron Chancellor”, Prince Otto von Bismarck. The design was a scaled-up version of the previous Victoria Louise Class protected cruisers, with nearly twice the displacement and a significantly more powerful armament. If you examine previous pictures in this chapter, you will readily see the profiles of Hansa and Furst Bismarck are remarkably similar. When faced with new challenges, or “rush jobs”, German naval architects invariably went back to their nearest successful design and altered it to suit the situation. Believe it or not, this method was quite successful and produced a more homogeneous fleet with highly reliable warships. The new cruiser would be quite capable of operations with the Hochseeflotte, but was primarily intended for trade protection and support of the Asian and Pacific colonies. The increase in guns and armor would allow Furst Bismarck to deal with rival armored cruisers, while making her a lethal threat to the smaller “protected” and “unprotected” cruisers she might encounter. She was, for all intents and purposes, meant to be a “cruiser killer”. In this view of Furst Bismarck, you can see the fine lines of her new hull form. Along the side of the hull, between the rows of port holes, you can see the slight “tumblehome” of her hull (captured expertly by AP). The tumblehome narrows the wider lower hull into a smaller upper deck area – a feature commonly found in warships of the late 1800’s. This provides a wider hull at the waterline and increases her stability and value as a gun platform. Furst Bismarck was 412 feet long at the waterline, with a beam of 67 feet, and a displacement of 10,690 tons. She was steel-framed, both transverse and longitudinal, with a hull composed of a single layer of wooden planks, covered by Muntz Metal sheathing extending three feet above the waterline. Interestingly, the lower portions of the ship, from stem to stern, were covered with bronze plating. The hull had 13 watertight compartments with a double bottom running 59% of the ship’s length. The armored cruiser was driven by three vertical-stroke, four-cylinder, triple-expansion engines, powered by four Thornycroft boilers (built under license by Germaniawerft) and 8 cylindrical boilers, with a total of 32 fire boxes. Needless to say, she shipped a large compliment of stokers. She was given the new triple screw arrangement for maximum power output and achieved, with maximum effort, 18.7 knots on trials. Electrical needs were met by five generators providing a total of 325 kilowatts at 110 volts. Another view, from the bow. Again, you can see the “tumblehome” along the hull as well as the efficient layout of the “weather decks” – making use of every square inch of the reduced upper deck area. The beautiful little Sophia Class paddle tug, at left, is pulling a “double tow” of lighters loaded with various crates and boxes of “ship’s stores”. Once again, the tow lines between the tug and the lighters would be much longer in the “real world” – but I chose to shorten the towing hawsers for in-game visual appearance. The big cruiser’s main battery consisted of four 9.4 inch, SK-L/40 guns, mounted in twin turrets, one fore and one aft, “book-ending” the central superstructure. The “C/98” turrets were hydraulically operated and of an unusual, but interesting, elongated-oval shape with a very low silhouette. Produced by Krupp, the guns used a brass-cased powder charge to fire a 310 pound shell out to approximately 18,500 yards (10.5 miles). The rate of fire was three rounds per minute with magazine space for 78 rounds per gun. I think I need to explain the “SK-L/40” designation at this point – you will be seeing many such designations as we go along. The “L/40” refers to the caliber and length of the gun tube. The “SK” is an abbreviation for “schnelladekanone”, which loosely translated means “fast loading gun” – or what the naval scholars call a “quick-firing” (QF) gun. In this broadside view of Furst Bismarck you get a good view of the uniquely-shaped main battery turrets fore and aft, as well as the secondary casemated turrets arranged in the forward and aft superstructure, as well as in the typical “pyramid arrangement” amidships. The two large “tower masts” are referred to as “military masts”, and though different in every navy, they were a common feature at the turn of the century. If you look closely, you will even see “AP’s” creative placement of the crew – they are “closed-up” at their “sailing stations”. This shot also gives you a close-up of the paddle tug Sophia and her tow. The secondary battery was twelve 5.9 inch SK-L/40 (QF) guns in turreted casemates. They fired armor-piercing shell at a rate of 5 rounds per minute, out to a range of 15,000 yards, with magazine storage for 120 shells per gun. They were pedestal mounted and manually trained and elevated. Torpedo boat defense was provided by ten 3.5 inch SK-L/30 (QF) guns mounted in both casemates and pedestal mounts with shields – all manually operated. These smaller guns could throw out a blizzard of shells, at 15 rounds per minute, to a range of 7,500 yards. The “hitting power” was rounded out with six 17.7 inch torpedo tubes, with a total of 16 torpedoes. One tube was a swivel mount on the stern, two were submerged on either broadside, and the sixth was submerged in the bow. This is a close-up of Furst Bismarck’s bow. Note the detail built into something as simple as the anchor chains and capstans and even the small boats secured on either side of the bow. The degree of work on the main battery turrets is amazing. The heavy, segmented, gun barrels are depicted accurately, rather than simply glossed-over as a “gun”. The amount of detail on the roof of the main battery turret is meticulous. The slightly weathered look of the hull and upper works is fantastic – even the tone and texture of a weathered Teak deck that has been “holy-stoned” for countless hours. One of the most significant advances over the protected cruiser was Furst Bismarck’s armor scheme. And -- the inclusion of an “armored belt” was the radical step forward from previous classes. “Krupp Steel” was used throughout which was, as mentioned earlier – pound for pound -- tougher and more shot resistant than other armor of the period. Furst Bismarck’s belt was an amazing 7.9 inches thick amidships, tapering to 3.9 inches at bow and stern. Most foreign cruisers started with a 4 inch belt that tapered to 0.75 inches at the ends, and usually only covered the center portion of the ship – leaving most of the forecastle and stern portions unprotected. Behind the midships portion of the new cruiser’s belt, the designers placed additional 3.9 inch plates to cover critical areas – turret barbettes, magazines, boilers, and engines. The main protected armor deck (at the waterline) was 1.2 inches thick, with 2 inch sloping sides. The forward conning tower had 8 inch sides and a 1.6 inch roof, while the aft conning tower had 4 inch sides with a 1.6 inch roof. The main battery turrets were 8 inches on the sides with 3.9 inch roofs, while the 5.9 inch gun turrets had 3.9 inch sides and 2.8 inch gun shields. All casemated guns were protected with 3.9 inch shields. A stern close-up. Since Furst Bismarck was destined to be the flagship of the East Asiatic Squadron, she had been designed with “flag-officer” quarters beneath the fantail deck. Note the admiral’s private stern-walk wrapped around the hull. Since some of you may be wondering about the word “Furst” in the cruiser’s name – loosely translated, it means “Prince”. As in -- Otto, Prince of Bismarck, Count of Bismarck-Schonhausen, Duke of Lauenburg -- (In German -- Otto Furst von Bismarck, Graf von Bismarck-Schonhausen, Herzog zu Lauenburg.) In a nutshell, Furst Bismarck had, roughly, three times the armor protection of her contemporaries! While this might sound like a good thing, we have to go back to a basic and recurring problem in ship design; the need to balance guns, armor, and speed. We could get into a very long and complicated discussion about balancing a warship design – but it all comes down to the weight of the materials in each of the three categories. It’s all about the weight. If you “invest” too heavily in one category – you must reduce the weight in the other two categories. The excessive amount of armor in Furst Bismarck may very well account for the fact that she could only make 18.7 knots at maximum effort. In 1900 that might be acceptable – but by 1910 – it would be a liability in combat. It is almost certain her disappointing speed trials resulted in less armor and more speed in the follow-on classes of armored cruisers. By 1909, SMS Blucher would be capable of 25.4 knots. Since harbors are crowded and bustling with activity, they are difficult places to maneuver big warships. And all large ships find that shallow water effects their rudder control. Consequently, you see Furst Bismarck (a diagonal model) being moved toward the Munitions Replenishment Basin by a Passat Class tug, escorted by two Nordwind Class to assist with difficult turns. On the left, you see groups of lighters and sailing luggers tied-up at mooring “dolphins”. Tugs, lighters, luggers, mooring dolphins, and the excellent cruiser -- are courtesy of “AP”. Her hull was launched in September, 1897, and her “fitting-out” work began. (See previous chapters for “fitting-out” details.) In early March 1900, while the shipyard was completing the job, the ironclad SMS Sachsen accidentally collided with the new cruiser, slightly damaging her stern. The accident delayed the start of sea trials until 19 March. Initial testing revealed Furst Bismarck to be an excellent sea boat in heavy weather and very quick to answer the helm. But she did have an excessive roll in beam seas and her massive propulsion plant set up a heavy vibration at high speed. There was a need for alterations to the ship, but the Chinese Boxer Uprising had broken out in late 1899, and the East Asiatic Squadron needed reinforcements. The alterations would have to wait. Here you see a close-up of Furst Bismarck’s bow. Notice the placement of the officers and crew. They are at their “sailing stations”. You have an excellent view of the “tumblehome” built into the hull design and masterfully portrayed by “AP’s model work. Another area in which he excels, are the gun turrets. Note the detail on the roof – the round sighting hood in the center, the two square exhaust fans, and the individual riveted armored roof plates. The canvas jackets where the gun tubes enter the turret form a seal to protect the turret interior against smoke and gases when firing. Each of the 9.4-inch barrels has three progressively smaller segments – just as they were manufactured at the Krupp gun works. And they are not just “little sticks” poking out of the turret – they’ve got girth and “heft” – just as in real life. The lower picture is a bit blurry – but you can see the impression of power in those gun barrels. OPERATIONAL HISTORY At the end of June, 1900, Furst Bismarck slipped her moorings and steamed out of Kiel on what would become an eight year tour of duty in the Far East. She stopped to coal in Gibralter, and again at Port Said, made the transit of the Suez Canal, and coaled before leaving, at Port Tewfik. She anchored for a day or two off Perim Island, at the southern end of the Red Sea, to allow the crew to recuperate from the effects of heat exhaustion, then put in at Colombo (Ceylon) before pressing on to Singapore. Arriving in Singapore on 4 August, Furst Bismarck received orders to escort the troop ships Frankfurt and Wittekind to Tsingtao, where Vice Admiral von Bendemann transferred his flag aboard. The next few weeks were spent awaiting additional troop ships and warships from Germany, including a “Detached Division” of the four pre-dreadnought battleships of the Brandenburg Class. Eventually, the German Empire would contribute 17,000 soldiers and 24 warships to the “Eight Nation Alliance”. The force ultimately fielded 70,000 men and 250 warships to fight the “Boxers”. Among that ground force was a sizable Royal Navy contingent commanded by Captain John Rushworth Jellicoe. The young captain was seriously wounded during the fighting and was appointed a “Companion of the Order of the Bath” by Her Majesty Queen Victoria – and awarded the “Order of the Red Eagle with Crossed Swords” by His Imperial Majesty Kaiser Wilhelm II. More about Captain Jellicoe later. Furst Bismarck participated in troop landings, bombardments, the blockade of the Yangtze, and dozens of other tasks and duties. By July, 1901, the fighting had nearly ceased and the East Asiatic Squadron returned to its normal peacetime footing. In September, the Chinese signed the “Boxer Protocol”, ending all fighting. But the experience convinced the Reichsmarineamt (Imperial Navy Office) of the importance of logistics in projecting naval power over great distances, and a maritime transport department was created in 1902. Between the forward bridge and the aft control position, lies the midships section of the cruiser. Here you can see how the area has a “sunken” deck, with elevated “cat-walks” leading to gun positions, accessing the ship’s boats, and connecting the bridge forward with the aft control position. You also have an excellent view of the 5.9-inch secondary battery, deployed in two ocher colored turrets and two casemated turrets below and amidships. This was the beginning of that “slab-sided” look that came to be standard in all German armored cruisers. The largest part of Furst Bismarck’s tour in the Far East was an endless string of port calls in Tokyo, Yokohama, and Kobe, with regular dry-docking in Nagasaki to repair the leaky stern that had been damaged in the fitting-out basin. More port calls to the Russian concession in Port Arthur, with side trips to Sydney and Melbourne, Australia. And the occasional formal diplomatic call to Hong Kong and Singapore to celebrate King Edward VII’s birthday, or by Royal Navy invitation to attend social functions. There was a formal diplomatic call at Tokyo where Vice Admiral Geissler (then commanding) was received by Emperor Meiji. A tour of East Asian ports even included a rare visit to the Dutch East Indies in 1902. When necessary, the big cruiser would lay at anchor off a port or river mouth (Yangtze) to protect German nationals and their property, if there was unrest ashore. At the same time, the warship conducted regular drills and participated in group training exercises. Furst Bismarck won Kaiser Wilhelm II’s Schiesspreis (Shooting Trophy) four years in a row. In 1903 a special squadron visit was paid to the Russian Pacific Fleet based in Vladivostok, in honor of the Tsar’s birthday. This is a close-up of Furst Bismarck’s stern detail. The thick military mast with the large “fighting top” is a feature common to several navies at the turn of the last century. They quickly fell out of favor as naval technology advanced and the excessive weight of metal could be put to better uses. Note the red and green cones on the signal halyards. These are used to indicate to the next ship astern the position of the rudder on this ship. The green cone raised indicates a turn to starboard – red raised, to port. In their current position, they indicate rudder amidships. You will see these cones in many photographs of the period. You can clearly see the fine detail of the searchlight atop the aft control position. In the right of the picture, you can even see two seamen “larking-about” on the admiral’s stern walk. Risky business, that. Early 1904 saw tensions running high between Russia and Japan over their disputed interests in the Korean Peninsula. Orders from the Admiralstab (Admiralty Staff) directed the East Asiatic Squadron to remain strictly neutral in the event of hostilities. Small cruisers were sent to Port Arthur and Chemulpo to evacuate German and Austro-Hungarian nationals, and war finally broke out in February. After the engagement in the Yellow Sea, on August 10th, the damaged Russian battleship Tsesarevich and cruiser Novik managed to reach Tsingtao, where they were interned for the remainder of the Russo-Japanese War. The rest of 1904 was spent by Furst Bismarck and the squadron enforcing the internment of the Russian ships, while destroying Russian naval mines endangering German shipping. Early 1905 saw riots in China, forcing most of the squadron to remain in Chinese ports until March. All ships were recalled to Tsingtao as the Russian Second Pacific Squadron approached the area, but normal routine was resumed after the Russians were annihilated at the Battle Of Tsushima. In August, a floating dry dock had been completed in Tsingtao, and Furst Bismarck underwent repairs in October. In December the squadron embarked on a tour of the southern East Asia Station, but the cruise had to be cut short due to unrest in Shanghai, necessitating Furst Bismarck's presence. The ship sent a landing party ashore, along with men from the gunboats Jaguar, Tiger, and Vaterland. They patrolled the city center and protected the German consulate, but took no active role in the unrest. This is another fine view of the detailed craftsmanship of the stern main battery turret and an excellent view of the two aft 5.9-inch guns in their turrets. There is a nice view of the stern detail outboard of the hull and the admiral’s stern walk. And, again, the “tumblehome” of the hull is clearly visible. The skylights in the fantail are located above the spacious quarters of the flag officer commanding the squadron. The next few years passed much as the others had – with the exception that these were largely peaceful. Furst Bismarck, as the largest ship on station, kept busy with port calls, diplomatic trips, “state” calls on Heads Of State, onboard tours for foreign dignitaries, the occasional spell in the floating dry dock at Tsingtao, and simply “showing the flag”. The presence offshore of a large cruiser always reminded a foreign ruler that peace was more desirable than a dozen of these steel beasts blockading his coastline and shelling his ports. At last, in early 1909 Furst Bismarck received orders to return to Germany for repairs. The ship had been overseas for just over eight years, and the amount and scale of work necessary could not be accomplished in Tsingtao’s floating dock, nor was it financially practical to do it in a dry dock anywhere in Asia. On April 8th, with an Army band playing ashore, and her crew manning the side, the big cruiser slipped her mooring buoy and steamed south into the Yellow Sea. On the 29th, she paused long enough to rendezvous in Colombo with the “new flagship” of the East Asiatic Squadron arriving from Germany – the new armored cruiser SMS Scharnhorst. Furst Bismarck arrived in Kiel on 13 June, and decommissioned on 26 June. This is another view of the midships area showing how the ship’s boats are stowed. You will also notice the many portholes in the ship’s hull. Since Furst Bismarck was designed to operate on foreign stations, they would most likely be in the tropics, so ventilation of the interior spaces would be of critical importance. Portholes were permitted in thinner-skinned cruisers, but only in certain positions aboard heavily armored capital ships – usually the thinly-armored bow and stern sections. Portholes were an instant indicator of thin armor plate on a warship. In 1910, Furst Bismarck was taken into Kiel’s Kaiserliche Werft Shipyard for an extensive modernization. Part of the work included conversion into a torpedo training ship. The work lasted four years, and was completed after the outbreak of WW I. Recommissioned on 28 November, 1914, she was used as a training ship due to her low combat value. Decommissioned once again in December of 1918, she served as a floating office until stricken from the Naval Register in 1919. She was sold for scrap and broken up in 1919-1920. At the time of her conception, there was a general lack of enthusiasm at higher command levels for the construction of Furst Bismarck. Admiral Hollman, the State Secretary of the Naval Office at the time, more or less accepted the dominance of the Royal Navy at sea. And he was well aware of Britain’s many shipyards, so he saw no need to compete with them. But he also understood Germany’s colonial possessions and trade routes had to be defended against marauding enemy cruisers. So -- despite significant political opposition in the Reichstag, the funds were appropriated and the Imperial Navy’s first armored cruiser was built. Fast enough for her day, Furst Bismarck had traded her speed potential for heavy guns and an impressive armor suite. But her true contribution was in providing design and building experience – and another step up the ladder of evolution. NEXT TIME…… INNOVATION ON A BUDGET MY MANY THANKS to @Barroco Hispano for his generously given time and talent providing so many beautiful warships for this series. MY SPECIAL THANKS to my partner and “maritime advisor” -- @AP -- for his considerable talents, valuable time, imagination, and hard work in providing so many beautiful and highly detailed models. If you enjoyed anything you saw – please punch the “like” button so I will know. A comment would be even more informative. Comments and critiques requested and gratefully accepted. All questions answered promptly to the best of my 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 https://community.simtropolis.com/forums/topic/761469-simtropolis-shipyard/?tab=comments#comment-1766496