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IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: CUXHAVEN By: Dreadnought & AP Chapter 65: THE PHOTO TOUR 21 EAST BREAKWATER Picking up where we left off, this is an overview of the eastern half of the breakwater. You will note a visiting British squadron anchored along the outer breakwater wall. Unable to find a space where the three British warships could be berthed together, it was thought best to anchor the “guests” just offshore. Anchored just astern of SMS Hindenburg are two of the four Mackensen Class battlecruisers. (See Chapter 42 for complete design and construction details.) Design work on these ships was started in 1912 and the first two were laid down in 1915. Though intended to be nearly identical to the Derfflinger’s, they were actually an improvement, with an increase in tonnage, more powerful engines, and a main battery up-gunned to 14-inch rifles. It is fair to say they would have given the British Queen Elizabeth Class fast-battleships a “run for their money”. Had they been completed, they would have joined the fleet in 1919. As in previous mooring scenes along the breakwater, this one is composed of seven modular lots plopped to create a vignette. Two of the @mattb325 mooring points were plopped against the breakwater, and then the two battlecruisers (courtesy of @Barroco Hispano) were plopped adjacent to them. The two lighters and the harbor tug standing by to come alongside are a fifth lot – and the two small boat lots were then added. The white harbor tug was “gifted” by “WolfZe“, while the two lighters and the small boats were the detailed work of @AP. Next astern we have two of the four planned Ersatz Yorck Class battlecruisers. These were not the last battlecruisers designed by the Kaiserliche Marine – but they were the last to actually start construction. (See Chapter 43 for complete design and construction details.) Unfortunately, the Ersatz Yorck Class were the only ships ever designed to mount 15-inch rifles. In this scene, the collier SS Erlangen has come alongside and is preparing cargo nets to hoist sacks of coal across to the battlecruiser. This view gives you a good idea of the long, fine, hull lines of the battlecruiser design. This vignette was composed of five modular lots. Two mooring points, two battlecruisers, and a single lot with the collier and three tugs. The wonderful model of SMS Yorck is courtesy of @AP, while the collier and tugs are his superbly detailed work as well. The breakwaters are, of course, by “Yuki”. Though not actually part of the Kaiserliche Marine of the great War era, the very last battlecruisers designed and built by Germany were the KM Scharnhorst (1939) and Gneisenau (1938). They were directly descended from the Ersatz Yorck Class but, oddly enough, the two ships did not mount 15-inch guns. Designed in 1933-1934, it was feared mounting the larger main guns would unsettle the somewhat precarious political climate in Europe – so only three triple turrets with 11-inch guns were mounted. However, the designers kept their options open for the future, and the barbettes were designed to be big enough to accommodate 15-inch guns and turrets at some later date. In the event, war broke out in Europe sooner than expected and no convenient time was ever found to make the change. This is a view of KM Gneisenau as she would have looked with her intended armament of three twin turrets mounting 15-inch rifles. This scene was created using six modular lots. Two “Mattb325” mooring points and the battlecruiser (by Barroco Hispano). The boat boom deployed on the port side is a stand-alone-lot” plopped alongside the ship. The Esmeralda Class tug and lighter alongside are a fifth lot, and the small boat off the starboard quarter is number six. The paddle tug, lighter, boat boom, and small boat are all the work of “AP”. This is the last chapter of Imperial Dockyards: Cuxhaven, and though there will be an ”Imperial Dockyards: Bremerhaven” in future – I do not have the slightest idea when that one will begin. The forthcoming third entry in the “Kaiserliche Marine Trilogy” will deal with the birth of the Imperial German Navy and its growth and evolution up until about 1910 – basically – the Pre-Dreadnought Era. But before I close this second installment in the series, I would like to say a few words…… In the first two series we have, considering the technology of the early 20th Century, thoroughly analyzed and dissected the most complex and destructive weapons ever conceived by the mind of man – battleships and their rivals, the battlecruisers. I have recounted the courage, honor, and devotion to duty of the men who sailed and fought them. And I have touched, briefly, upon the horror and death of the Great War at sea. It has long been the warrior’s creed that “glory” can only be won in battle. But that is true -- only if you believe it to be true. William Tecumseh Sherman said...”War is Hell. War is cruelty and you cannot refine it.” On a later occasion, he added...”There is no glory in war.” Say what you will about W.T. Sherman -- he was an immanently practical man with a firm grasp of reality. I am an Old Soldier – I did my warrior’s duty some fifty years ago – and sleep peacefully knowing that I did not disgrace myself, my men, or my Country. And I tell you -- there is no glory in war. But my proudest moments were when I was privileged to salute, and shake the hand, of men holding the Congressional Medal Of Honor. I honor the grit and determination of all men -- of every nation -- that have, throughout history, done their duty. But make no mistake – I do not glorify war. Having said all that – we can now shift to a lighter note…… In the years leading up to the Great War, while the diplomats schemed for political advantage, the Royal Navy and the Kaiserliche Marine shared, for the most part, a friendly rivalry. The British had, in the past, viewed the nations of Europe as weights on a balance scale – and her diplomats spent all their time trying to keep the scales evenly balanced. Goodwill visits by the Royal Navy to German ports was an important part of this balancing act. These visits were swapped back and forth, from nation to nation, and generated friendly feelings between the two navies as well as providing festive occasions for the civilian populations. A port call at Kiel by the Royal Navy was always an occasion of great ostentation and merry-making. A Royal Navy squadron usually appeared around 6am, emerging from the mists about ten miles offshore. Word of the sighting passed quickly around the busy port and crowds began to gather within minutes. By 8am, the British Battle Squadron would arrive at the mouth of the fjord, secure the services of a harbor pilot, and begin steaming up the Kielerhaffen. The visit would have been announced in the newspapers several days before, and it was an event that could not be missed – even the Kaiser, himself, would be in attendance. Shopkeepers closed-up, offices were shut down, and restaurants (especially those without a view of the harbor) closed during mid-day. Even the school children were dismissed at noon. Special “tourist” trains were laid-on to bring in sightseers from far out in the countryside, and as far away as Hamburg and Berlin. The shore, promenades, and overlooking hillsides, were literally black with spectators. The Kielerhaffen, itself, was crowded with small craft, yachts, and packet steamers jammed to the railings with sightseers. Once the British battleships anchored, many of these tourist boats would crowd around the ships and anchor as near as possible, while others continually circled around the big ships. It was a great public spectacle replete with gold-braided admirals, Royal princes and princesses, and Kaiser Wilhelm wearing the uniform of a British Admiral Of The Fleet (an honor bestowed on him by Queen Victoria). The pictures below are my own homage to the happier days before the Great War…... 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, with a detachment of sailors assembled to “salute the colors”. The steamer SS Lorena (foreground) has come out from the city docks 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. When I came across the photo of Invincible and the tourist small craft (See the “banner” photo at top.) Lorena 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. (Please excuse the “modern” motorboats.) Here you have an excellent view of the squadron flagship –HMS Invincible. 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. During these “courtesy visits” the ships were often festooned with strings of electric lights in the rigging and along the decks to provide the tourists with a “night show”. Awnings were usually spread on both sides of the aft turret reaching back to the stern. Guests were often invited aboard for afternoon teas, complete with a string quartet providing music. In the evening, a cold buffet supper was provided, with a dance band to entertain the guests. These were, indeed, social occasions that would be fondly remembered for many years. 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. As a point of interest -- 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 (before superimposed turrets came into fashion), 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 fully effective broadside of six guns. 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.) FINALLY…… IN MEMORY OF "ODAINSAKER” I was greatly saddened when I learned of “Odainsaker’s” passing. He had always been a great help to me when searching for pictures and anecdotes on the German Imperial period. He, too, was fascinated with the Edwardian Era, and we exchanged e-mails so that we might have many long conversations about an enormously wide range of topics…... ”The time has come, the Walrus said, To talk of many things: Of shoes — and ships — and sealing-wax — Of cabbages — and kings — And why the sea is boiling hot — And whether pigs have wings.” I found him to be a man of jovial nature, who’s comments were witty, urban, and occasionally a tad pithy -- backed by a vast lexicon of knowledge – which he freely shared. A sharing of fact-based-knowledge is a rare thing these days, and I honor his memory. “Odainsaker” was especially interested in the Imperial Austrian Navy and the battleships of the Tegetthoff Class. I present a few photos of them and hope that wherever he is – they will please him. He is sorely missed…… “Hail and farewell” -- May God hold you in the palm of his hand, Old Friend…... 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. SMS Prinz Eugen with a machinist’s barge alongside. SMS Viribus Unitis is seen preparing to coal ship. SMS Tegetthoff taking on fresh provisions for the flagship. The two steam launches tied-up at the boat boom would indicate an admiral aboard. Battleships courtesy of Barroco Hispano. Another overview of the division at their moorings. NEXT TIME…… ???? I’ll keep you posted as to when you can expect the third installment of the trilogy. 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. This installment would not have been possible without his kindness and generosity. 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 64: THE PHOTO TOUR 20 BREAKWATER ANCHORAGE Since the Neu Hafen was, more or less, built from scratch – it was better arranged than many of the old, established harbors. Wilhelmshaven, for example, was an “old” harbor, and was more than adequate to handle the early beginnings of the Imperial Navy. But by the end of the 19th Century the docks and basins were becoming crowded with an ever expanding fleet of steel battleships. Later, as the larger dreadnoughts began to join the fleet, it was often necessary to anchor entire battleship divisions offshore in the scarce deep water areas like the Vareler Deep. In Cuxhaven, the Panzerkreuzer (battlecruisers) were assigned permanent berths along the outer breakwater on the opposite side of the roadsted. This suited Hipper perfectly. It kept the big ships separated from the hustle and bustle of the rest of the harbor, thereby avoiding distractions and allowing the sailors to concentrate on their work. This is an overview of the western half of the breakwater. It was originally intended that each battlecruiser should have its’ own berth, but as the number of cruisers grew, it became necessary to moor some of them inboard and outboard of each other. This shot also gives you a partial view of the rest of the activity in the harbor – tugs, lighters, barges, and cranes – all busily going about their assigned tasks. This is a view of the first two battlecruisers in the breakwater mooring line. SMS Moltke is on the left, and the immortal Seydlitz on the right. The “Uki” breakwater is plopped at the very edge of the 30 meter harbor floor. Beyond the breakwater, the seabed drops off rather precipitately. Looking back on it, I probably should have dropped the seabed to 40 meters and been done with it. (Unfortunately, if you want to get the “whale automata” you have to go considerably deeper than that – and I’m a “sucker” for the whales.) This scene was created with five separate lots – two for the mooring points, one for the battlecruiser, one for the motor launch, and one for the boat boom and small boats. Again, this is the “modular” concept at work. By utilizing four different models which can be used in a variety of different scenarios, I avoided making a single large lot that would only be good for a single use. The mooring points built adjacent to the breakwater were made by “Mattb325” as a request and then uploaded to the STEX. I took his basic model and modified it with sailors, lighting, and rope coils. The idea was for the sailors to act as a “mooring party” securing the ship. Each mooring point is an individual lot plopped, roughly, one square apart. They were patterned after those found along “Battleship Row” in Pearl Harbor. In retrospect, the mooring points should have been made about half their size. The beautifully detailed battlecruiser is courtesy of @AP. (Full details on SMS Moltke can be found in Chapters 17 and 18.) This is SMS Seydlitz at her berth. This scene was also constructed with five modular lots. There are two lots for the mooring points, one for the battlecruiser, one for the boat boom and small boats, and one large one for the replenishment operation off the port quarter. Just for the record; with the exception of the mooring points (Mattb325), the breakwater (Uki), the steam tug (WolfZe), and the crane on the barge (PEG Trash Lot) – EVERYTHING in the picture was modeled by @AP. This view gives you a better look at the details of the mooring point. Unfortunately, they are both exactly the same. I should have made at least two different arrangements so the pieces would not be duplicated, but in my stupidity, I was trying to cut down on the number of custom lots I was putting into my Plugins folder. (When I first started out, I foolishly thought I could get away with a couple of hundred new lots – go figure.) And, again, the beautifully detailed model of Seydlitz is by the talented “AP”. (Details on the battlecruiser can be found in Chapters 21 and 22.) This gives you a little better view of the replenishment operation. I wanted something a little bit more complicated than just a couple of lighters, so I decided to go with a larger and more intricate lot. This lot is 5x2, and includes the barge crane, lighters, tugs, and small boat you see in the picture. All of these props have been placed on the lot in such a manner as to be “flush” against the battlecruiser, while overhanging the other three sides of the lot. “Overhanging props” takes advantage of the smallest possible lot space to accommodate the largest possible number of visual props. This is a better view of the “replenishment lot”. Due to the unique nature of the lot, I would probably not use it twice on the same map tile, but as a “modular lot” it can be placed against docks or any of the large ships in the game. This close-up, yet again, allows you to see the amazing level of detail “AP” has built into his models. These models are so good, so realistic – they actually “inspire” and motivate the creation of life-like scenes. This is an overview of the next two battlecruisers moored along the breakwater – SMS Derfflinger on the left, and Hindenburg on the right. Almost everything in the picture has already been discussed on several different occasions, and should be familiar to you. But down in the lower right of the picture, you can just make out the steam tug Goliath towing what was at the time, the world’s largest floating crane – “Langer Heinrich”. (See Chapter 14 for details on “Langer Heinrich”.) SMS Derfflinger is moored along the breakwater in the same basic fashion as the other battlecruisers. Like the other ships, she has her boat boom extended and is also preparing to take aboard stores and fresh provisions. Derfflinger model kindly provided by @Barroco Hispano. In this close-up, you can examine the fine detailing of the warship as well as those of the accompanying ships. In the upper left, a cutter is standing by the mooring point while the sailors prepare to tighten the slack in the mooring hawsers. At the port side boat boom, sailors are unloading some small boxes from another cutter, with a dinghy trailing astern. Lastly, the paddle tug Sophia is standing by with two lighters loaded with ship’s stores and assorted fresh provisions. The cutter at the mooring point is a stand-alone 1x1 plopped next to the platform. The boat boom and small boat is also a 1x1 designed so that it can be plopped alongside any larger ship. The paddle tug and lighters are a 2x1 lot with the props positioned to overhang the lot. Many people can create new lots or re-lot and improve an old game lot. But learning how to use overhanging props can add an entirely new dimension of reality to the game. Once again, let me call attention to the brilliant level of detail in the small boats, boat boom, paddle tug, and lighters by “AP”. Moored along the breakwater, just astern of Derfflinger, is SMS Hindenburg – the last active duty battlecruiser designed and built by the Kaiserliche Marine. As the last flagship of Scouting Forces Hochseeflotte, the flag of Vizeadmiral Hipper flies at her forepeak. Being an “improved” version of the Derfflinger Class, she was “the best of the best”. Appropriately enough, the model is scratch-built by @AP -- and may well be his finest work yet. This shot shows all the magnificent detail built into “AP’s” battlecruiser, and it is well worth a few minutes of close examination. The two steam launches tied-up at the boat boom are courtesy of Barroco Hispano, while the small boats and boat boom are by “AP”. The beautiful little harbor tug Thor – pulling alongside with a lighter of fresh provisions – is also the work of “AP”. NEXT TIME…… CUXHAVEN: THE PHOTO TOUR 21 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 55: THE PHOTO TOUR 11 THE INNER BASIN Most large harbors have something similar to an “Inner Basin” – especially in military/naval anchorages. This is a designated area where difficult or lengthy tasks are performed. These tasks could include repairs to a ship’s hull in a dry dock, or a simple bottom cleaning and painting job, also requiring a dry dock. Installation of new weapons systems – guns, or perhaps, fire control devices. Capital ships were constantly undergoing repairs to the engine condensers and replacement of the water tubes in their boilers. Even modernization of older warships can be a quite lengthy process. And, in addition to the regular “refit” and repair cycles of warships – construction slips were frequently found in the secluded Inner Basin. Since Cuxhaven was only a small harbor with limited facilities, only one permanent dry dock had been built for quick repair jobs or hull cleaning and, of course, there were no construction slips. In this overview, moving counter-clockwise from the Repair Docks, there is an Inner Basin tug station, with a minesweeping station just below that. And around the corner from the Minesweepers we have the large Munitions Pier. In the center bottom of the Basin is the single Dry Dock, with berths for two destroyer flotillas to the right. The Inner Basin tug station is one among many, but you may notice that each one is unique – either in composition or layout. Tug stations are a necessary working element of every harbor in the world – but they rarely get first crack at the “prime real estate”. All of the basic components should be familiar to you by now, but the layout has been improvised to fit the available space. The station can accommodate eight tugs at the piers, with berths for six more along the seawall. Since this is the only tug station inside the Inner Basin, it was imperative to have enough tugboats to handle the traffic to the Repair Docks, the Munitions Dock, and the tricky entrance and exit of the Dry Dock. The two white harbor steam tugs were gifted by “WolfZe”, while all the remaining tugboats are the impeccable work of @AP. The tug station from another angle. This gives you an excellent view of the basic layout of the station. The “Somy Tugboat Piers” are modified 2x1 lots with the overhanging pier props, the Quonset Hut is a custom-made 1x2, and the “control tower” is a 1x2 lot borrowed from the old Maxis Airports. The remainder of the base is composed of custom-lotted 1x1 modular pieces. This is a close-up of the details worked into the tiny tugboats. Researched for authenticity, the tugs are magnificent models of what every good tugboat should look like. These models would be useful in any harbor scene up through the 1960’s – and most especially in industrial scenes around oil refineries or bulk terminals for coal or grain. Top to bottom – Midgard, Thor, Passat, and Nordwind. (The models are available in “AP’s” Historic Harbors 1900 Series – Volumes 14 and 16). Simce I needed berthing space for additional tugs, I opted for “parking space” along the diagonal seawall which, otherwise, would have been useless space. I modified a diagonal section of the “NBVC Marina Seawalls” and double-nested the tugs on the new lot. The NBVC seawalls take a bit of “tinkering” to get the correct distance and height for the tug models, but the results are quite flexible and well worth the effort. Left to right, the diagonal models are – Passat, Odin, and Asgard – and are also available in the above mentioned prop packs. “AP” has gone to great lengths to try and provide as many diagonal models as possible – the “diagonals” provide more flexibility, authenticity for your harbors, and will greatly enhance your “grid-busting” efforts. MINE WARFARE Floating mines had been around since the 14th Century -- believed to have been introduced by Imperial China during the Ming Dynasty. But science and technology was unable to live up to the potential of an unmanned, floating, explosive device until some 500 years later. Explosive naval mines were “toyed” with during the Napoleonic Wars, and the Crimean War of 1854 actually produced some positive results. But it was not until the American Civil War (1861-1865) that floating mines (or “torpedoes”) became effective enough to sink warships with any degree of regularity. Over the centuries, every conceivable type of water-borne explosive device was tried. Some naval mines were “floating” -- either on the surface or just below the water – while others were placed on the seabed in water just deep enough for large ships. Some were detonated by a burning fuse, some by a clockwork mechanism connected to the workings of a flintlock weapon, and still others were detonated by an electric charge sent through an underwater cable from a storage battery ashore. It was not until the late Victorian Era that “contact” detonators (Hertz Horns) became practical. By 1904, the floating mine remained largely unproven in battle – but the Russo-Japanese War changed all that. Several ships on both sides were damaged by mines at one point or another during the brief conflict, but the Russians lost one battleship to mines, while the Japanese lost two of their six battleships, four cruisers, two destroyers, and a torpedo boat. The Russians may have started out with little experience in “offensive mining”, but they learned quickly. When war crept across Europe in 1914, the lessons of the Russo-Japanese naval conflict had been studied, digested, and transformed into military doctrine. Both Britain and Germany understood the concepts of “offensive” and “defensive” minefields; “offensive” mines were laid off enemy harbors and along their sealanes where ships could be sunk, while “defensive” mines were laid to protect one’s own harbors and sealanes against enemy intrusions. This seemingly simple and straightforward “mission statement” resulted in active mine warfare in the Mediterranean, the Baltic, and especially in the North Sea. Quite literally “millions” of mines were laid in hundreds of minefields scattered “willynilly” across the North Sea. Eventually, as protection against German submarines, the British laid massive mine barriers from Scapa Flow to Norway to close the north end of the North Sea, while an equally dense mine barrier closed the English Channel. Whether or not these millions of mines were actually effective has been debated for the last hundred-plus years, but the immediate problem in 1914 was how to remove enemy mines from your “sea space” to allow your own shipping and battle fleet to function. The answer to the problem was the creation of entire fleets of hundreds of small craft – “minesweepers” – to keep lanes “swept” and clear of mines to allow deployment of the battle fleets. And thus was born the concept of the “minesweeper”. This is Cuxhaven’s minesweeper station. You will notice it is larger than the usual tugboat station. The minesweepers are somewhat larger than the seagoing Passat Class tugs, and I wanted at least six vessels to represent a minesweeping force – so I had to add at least one more pier to the arrangement. In reality, the six large, deep-sea tugs would have been used as “flotilla leaders”, backed-up by 30 or 40 smaller vessels. The smaller vessels would have been deployed to either beam of the “leader” in one long line – or possibly two lines – one following the other. The British had a small force of purpose-built minesweepers in 1914, but they very quickly realized they did not have enough sweep vessels to deal with German mining activity. Every sort of small craft capable of deep water work was pressed into service – privately owned motor launches, river steamers, small English Channel packet steamers, and a bewildering variety of fishing vessels. (Eventually, a militarized version of the standard English fishing trawler was settled upon and built in mass quantities.) By the time I hit on the idea of including minesweepers in the CJ, it was too late to redesign the harbor to accommodate 40 or 50 minesweepers – so I settled on six vessels. The piers and steel sheds were modified and re-lotted from “Somy’s Japanese Tugs”. The pier is actually an overhanging prop, which makes it easy to “plop” any tugboat alongside. The Quonset Huts are from the “SNM Naval Series”, and are being used as one administrative office and two workshops. The barracks building is re-purposed from Mattb325’s “UC Sydney” lot, and is provided for the civilian crews contracted to operate the minesweepers under the direct supervision of a naval officer. The expanded size of the station and different layout would have been impossible if my tug stations had been modeled in a single, standardized lot. But the use of custom-made 1x1 and 1x2 modular lots provide a range of “mini-scenes” that can be used over and over in a variety of different situations – and they can be worked into whatever space you have available. I chose a model of the French steam tug Goliath (coutyesy of @Barroco Hispano) for use as a minesweeper “flotilla leader” because of its particular characteristics and historical background. Launched in 1903 from the Penhoet shipyard in Saint Nazaire, Goliath was a 1,200 ton ocean-going steam tug. She was approximately 160 feet in length, with 1,400-ihp triple-expansion engines capable of 13 knots. During the 1915 Allied attack on the Dardanelles, Goliath formed part of the support forces and actually doubled as a part-time minesweeper. Goliath, courtesy of “Barroco Hispano” is a superbly detailed model and 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 and more powerful than the average tug of her day, Goliath was used for ocean-going work as well as for heavy hauling. Conversion to minesweeping duties was relatively quick and easy. 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 sweeper. The paravane cables would cut the anchor cables on the mines, which then floated to the surface and were destroyed by rifle fire. Primitive, but effective. To the right of the Minesweeper Station, you see another “lighter basin”. Sometimes a lighter basin came about by accident – simply an empty spot off to one side where lighters could be “parked” to get them out of the way. You can see the crowded nature of the area – with the lighters squeezed in around the minesweepers. Occasionally a harbor was laid out with areas designated for lighter storage, but harbor space was usually scarce. As lighters collected in the basin, the Harbor Master ordered the installation of a few mooring dolphins to control the clutter, but it was not successful. The lighters in the center have simply been roped to one another and tied off on other lighters. Other lighters have been squeezed in at odd angles, and even an improvised floating crane for light cargo work has been left along the seawall. This shot provides an excellent look at the detail and texturing “AP” has built into each of these tiny gems. In this view, the harbor tug Odin has put a small boat in the water and they are hauling a tow line from the tug to the two large lighters on the left. The tug will eventually hook-up all four of the lighters and move them to the Munitions Dock. The four lighters are carrying “bagged powder charges”. We tried to make the bagged charges appear circular –as they are in real life -- but several attempts turned out unsatisfactory due to the small scale of the objects. So we settled on this arrangement. In the event of a minor accident, there are crewmen on each barge to see to the safety of the explosive cargo. (Of course, “no smoking” is permitted.) These little beauties are Esmeralda Class steam paddle tugs moored to “barrel buoys”. Steam Paddle tugs were used all over the world from the early Victorian Era right through to the mid-1950’s (and some even longer). Though not as powerful as more modern tugs, they were cheap to build and operate, carried small crews, and were the real workhorses of any harbor. If cargo lighters or sailing vessels needed to be moved, the ”paddlers” were the first choice. Thoroughly researched for authenticity, they were based on a WW I era English working tug. (See previous chapters for details.) The level of detail for these small vessels is simply magnificent. Each tug was plopped as a separate lot, as were the barrel buoys. The buoy lots were specifically designed to be plopped in front of any ship as desired. (The paddle tug props are available in AP’s “Historic Harbors 1900” series – Volume 12.) In Cuxhaven, the main Munitions Complex is set up with a connection to the main rail line and to the munitions distribution docks. Munitions can be brought to the storage bunkers either by rail or by sea, and are trans-shipped to the Munitions Docks for distribution. This is an overview of the distributions quays. Left to right you have the Italian heavy cruiser RM Zara, the US destroyer Clemson, and the battlecruiser KM Scharnhorst. You will note the rail line behind the quays has been arranged so that all three replenishment points can be accessed at the same time without traffic jams. This very fine model of Scharnhorst is provided courtesy of @Barroco Hispano and shows her as she would have appeared upon commissioning in January 1939: 32,100 tons – 31 knots – 9x11-inch guns – 12x5.9-inch guns – 14x4.1-inch AA guns – 16x1.5-inch AA guns – 6x21-inch torpedo tubes – belt armor 13.8 inches – 1 catapult and 3 Arado, Ar-196A-3 float planes. There has long been a debate as to whether Scharnhorst was a battlecruiser or a battleship – but her design was based on the final plans of the Imperial battlecruiser Ersatz Yorck, which was never completed. The pedigree seems clear enough to me – so I absolutely had to work her into the CJ somewhere! In essence – she was the last battlecruiser ever commissioned by the German Navy. She was armed with an “improved” 11-inch gun – for political reasons. In the mid-1930’s, it was feared 15-inch guns might cause the British to “get the wind up”. In this close-up of the dock activity, you can see the working parties unloading main gun ammunition from the shuttle locomotives to the quay for delivery to the warship. There are masses of people bustling about – unloading shells, checking them for imperfections, cleaning the rounds, and hauling them about with hand-trucks, or loading them into cargo racks to be hoisted aboard the battlecruiser. In real life, docks are seldom quiet places, and we have tried hard to recreate the hundreds of crew and working parties involved in servicing a capital ship. The docks are re-lotted from the “PEG SNM Series” Battleship Quays, and were constructed in three 11x3 sections – each section just large enough for one capital ship, or two smaller vessels. Since the whole structure would have been built at the same time, I did not make architectural changes to any of the dock sections – but altered some of the scenes and props on each one for variety’s sake. This is a rear view of the quayside. The large dockside cranes were borrowed from the “PEG Trash Removal” lots and resized to better fit the surrounding models. The 100 ton cranes trackside are by “AP”. The ammunition shuttle locomotives and “rolling stock” were modeled by “AP” from old pictures of equipment on German WW I period military railroads. The Great War would not have been possible without railroads. Artillery battery commanders, in particular, were shocked to find out just how many shells could be fired-off in only a few hours. Going into the war, the British thought they had enough reserve artillery ammunition to last through a “short war” – perhaps a year. More than half of it was expended in the first two weeks of actual combat. Military railroads were essential to keeping the vital artillery batteries properly supplied with ammunition. Various props have been used to “dress-out” the scene, but the many “specialized” props were created by “AP” – sailors, shells, etc, etc. Here a Clemson Class destroyer is preparing to take aboard a full load of torpedoes. The Clemson’s were a large class of destroyers built by the US Navy over a number of years. The early versions of the extended class served during WW I, while others were completed between the wars. Under the “Lend Lease” agreement, 20 Clemson’s were among the 50 US destroyers doing yeoman service with the Royal Navy in WW II. Characteristics: 1,215 tons – 35.5 knots – 4x4-inch guns – 1x3-inch AA gun -- 12x21-inch torpedo tubes – no armor. USS Clemson is by “Barroco Hispano”. The 100 ton cranes quayside and the 20 ton cranes trackside are by “AP”, as are the shuttle locomotives, rail cars, and torpedoes. This is the Italian heavy cruiser RM Zara: Commissioned 1931 – 11,326 tons – 32 knots_8x8-inch guns – 16x3.9-inch guns – 34 AA guns – 2 seaplanes – belt armor 5.9 inches. As with all Italian warships built or modernized between the wars, they were quite handsome, with sleek lines and high speed. She is preparing to top-off her magazines with 8-inch shells and powder charges. In this shot, you can see the powder charges in brass cases stacked in rows on the quayside. Next to them are the 8-inch shells – ready to be hoisted aboard and stowed in the magazines. Again, the shuttle engines and ammunition cars are by “AP”, along with the shell and powder stacks – and, of course – the sailors and 20 ton cranes. You will notice the large numbers of sailors and dock hands engaged in stacking and moving the shells, with others preparing them to be hoisted aboard the cruiser. Work details would have been sent ashore from the cruiser to speed up the process. This rear view of the quay gives a good view of the ammunition handling parties and the ammunition trains. NEXT TIME…… CUXHAVEN: THE PHOTO TOUR 12 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 54: THE PHOTO TOUR 10 THE REPAIR AND REPLENISHMENT DOCKS Repair and replenishment of warships was an everyday task, and they were – perhaps – the two most important duties aboard ship. Regularly scheduled maintenance was necessary to keep these huge steel machines functioning smoothly, but there was always the unanticipated break-down to deal with. If you stop to think about the systems on a battleship or battlecruiser – electrical, hydraulic, freezer systems for frozen goods, boilers, turbines, turret machinery – they wouldn’t be there if they were not vital to the function of the ship. If the necessary repairs did not require the ship to be taken out of the water (a dry dock), then the Repair Dock was just the ticket. Mooring the ship to a large, permanent dock provided stability for big jobs, and easy access to machine shops and repair materials ashore. Replenishment, on the other hand, was an entirely different ballgame. Keeping 800 to 1,200 men properly fed, clothed, and housed on a daily basis was an enormous job, requiring close cooperation between a number of different departments aboard ship. If managed properly, ships at anchor could bring aboard small amounts of fresh provisions and ship’s stores from lighters alongside. It was relatively clean work, and a lighter could be emptied and the goods stowed away in less than two hours. If your Kapitan disliked lighters coming and going daily, then as little as two deliveries per week could be arranged. When the ships were deployed on extended maneuvers, the larders, bins, and freezers were packed full before departure and over the course of several weeks, the meals would dwindle down to brown “Brotchen” and canned meats and vegetables. Upon returning to harbor, the cupboard would be bare, so getting a berth at the Replenishment Dock was an absolute necessity. This is an overview of the Repair and Replenishment Docks (the berthing spaces could be used interchangeably). The docks were constructed at a right angle across the mouth of the Inner Basin. The docks were convenient to the ships in the Roadsted, and would separate the activity in the Inner Basin from ship traffic. To the right of the docks is yet another tug station. This one is very small compared to the others, but fits into the tiny space available – thanks to the “modular” components. Same station – different view. The “Paeng” grunge concrete overhanging prop pieces really came in handy to fill in along the railroad line. The tugs are – front to back – one Nordwind, two Thor Class, an Asgard, and three steam harbor tugs from “WolfZe”. Here you see an Ersatz Yorck Class battlecruiser moored to the dock. While undergoing her final speed trials, a vibration was noted in her port high speed turbine. A team of mechanics from Blohm & Voss is below decks making the necessary adjustments. A machinists barge has been brought alongside to deal with the more delicate aspects. The old steam tug Goliath is standing by the barge. The docks are from the “PEG SNM Battleship” series – considerably modified. They are 10x2, with the front lined by “WMP” seawalls acting as wooden buffers. The three tiles between the docks and the rail line are filled in with a wide variety of custom-made 1x1 fillers, many of which were modified from the “IRM Industrial Filler” set or the “NBVC Container Port” kit. The machinists barge was put together with two warehouses from the “NOB 1905” naval series, a barge created by “AP”, and filled out with some of “AP’s” sailors, barrels, and other assorted props. The steam tug Goliath is courtesy of Barroco Hispano, while the small boat coming alongside is by “AP”. The fabulously scratch-built SMS Ersatz Yorck is the flawless work of “AP”. The featured scene at this end of the dock is a work detail preforming maintenance and repair on a group of deck winches. Most capital ships were equipped with deck winches for any number of reasons. If one broke down or burnt-out (electric motors), they were sent ashore to be repaired or replaced with one that was functional. On this 1x2 custom-made lot, “AP” has provided a 10-ton steam crane with a winch ready to be lifted, a basic winch model, and the sailors gathered around working on them. The docks are dressed-out with a great many props of all sorts – anything that looks like it might be found on a working dock. In keeping with the “busy harbor” theory, I have tried to make the dockside scenes just as busy. The train preparing to unload cargo is a “PEG Tank Engine” modified for steam, with a cargo consisting of steam pipes, crates, and two diesel engines – which were used to power the electric dynamo’s aboard ships. Since Ersatz Yorck’s repairs are estimated to take two weeks, a harbor watch will be left aboard while others will be allowed either 24-hour “liberty passes”, or ten days leave – depending upon their supervising officer’s evaluation. About a quarter of the ship’s company has been mustered ashore to either receive their reward – or wish they were that lucky. This is the heavy cruiser USS Houston. She is not German, nor is she from the WW I era, but the model is a faithful recreation of some of the most handsome cruisers ever built for the US Navy (the Northampton Class). Commissioned in 1930, under the terms of the Washington Naval Treaty she was a bit light on armor, but qualified as a “heavy” cruiser because of her nine 8-inch, 55 caliber guns. Houston was capable of 32.7 knots and was a personal favorite of President Franklin D. Roosevelt, who cruised aboard her several times during the years between the wars. Assigned as the flagship, Asiatic Squadron, she was known far and wide as “The galloping ghost of the Java Coast”. Houston was sunk by the Japanese Navy at the Battle of Sunda Strait on the night of 28 February 1942. The Northampton Class cruisers were long and sleek, with a clipper bow, and capable of outrunning many contemporary destroyers. This shot provides a close-up of the excellent detail on the model provided courtesy of @Barroco Hispano. At center top of the picture, you can see an anchor maintenance enclosure, with a 10-ton steam crane, both new and rusty anchors with chains, and sailors chipping the rust and sanding them down. Crane, anchors, and sailors by “AP”. Next to the anchor enclosure, an Admiral is being greeted by a “side party” from Houston. He will lunch with the Kapitan and officers before their 2pm sailing time. Sailors and Admiral by “AP”. This is a close-up of the detail down at the end of the dock, next to the channel into the inner Basin. Most of the props should be familiar to you by now, but the 100-ton cranes on the docks are by “AP”, and on the left is a propeller maintenance pad. The lot is a custom-made 1x2 with a handful of old Maxis industrial props scattered around a 10-ton steam crane by “AP”. The bronze propellers, seamen, and workmen are also by “AP”. The battlecruiser SMS Mackensen would have been a slightly heavier and longer version of SMS Derfflinger – if she had ever been commissioned. (See Chapter 42 for details of the ship.) As battlecruisers got longer, they suffered from steering problems at low speeds and in shallow water (harbors). Mackensen has two tugs up forward, towing – two tugs astern “working drag” – and a tug on either beam in case she veers off course. The tugs and battlecruiser were all “plopped” individually. This view clearly shows the width of the Inner Basin channel, and on the right is the receiving pier where commercial goods are brought into the naval base. The Pier is re-lotted and modified from the “PEG Pier One” set. At the time this pier was assembled, models of merchant vessels were in short supply, so I had to use a model of the SS Red Oak Victory, a “Liberty Ship” commissioned into the US Merchant Marine in 1944 (Courtesy of “Barroco Hispano”). Here is an overview of the rear of the Repair and Replenishment Docks (inside the Inner Basin). Repairs of an extensive nature are usually made at the docks inside the Inner Basin, where there is less ship traffic. Three docks were “re-lotted” from the “PEG” materials, in 12x4 sections, and can be “plopped” in any sequence required. On the right end of the dock, the tug Thor has moved a lighter loaded with barrels against the dock. Once unloaded, the barrels will be moved to the warehouses at left for storage. These docks were taken from one of the “PEG SNM” series (can’t remember exactly which one), but just for the sake of variety, I did not face them with the “WMP Seawalls” as usual. The small white warehouses are from the “NOB 1905” naval series. You will note the transparency of the “Brigantine” water MOD allows you to see the seabed at 30 meters, so there is some barely discernible landscape down there – mostly “Girafe” cattails, feather grass, and some “NBVC” small rocks. The steam paddle tug Esmeralda has pulled a lumber lighter alongside the dock and the paddle tug Sophia is nudging it into place for unloading. Balk timber is always carried aboard warships for use in emergency repairs – plugging shell holes, shoring-up weak bulkheads, and patching holes in damaged decks. With heavy repair work, as performed at the docks, quantities of timber was used to build scaffolding for overhead work above decks, while timber could also be used to support weakened overhead decks while bulkhead partitions were repaired or replaced. Timber was just as essential to workmen as their hammers. Note the beautiful detail work on “AP’s” lighter and paddle tugs. It is a true pleasure to work with such fine models. This is a depiction of the extensive repair work done on SMS Seydlitz after the Battle of Jutland (See Chapter 38 for full details). Both aft turrets on the battlecruiser were burned out during the engagement. The floating crane is lifting out the damaged turrets and trunk apparatus and placing them on the adjacent barge. A machinists barge is alongside, and standing off, is a motor lighter with a new turret to be installed. From left to right, there are – two tugboats – the Langer Heinrich crane – a working barge with tugboat – a machinists barge with tugboat and small boat -- the Motor Lighter Ajax – and the battlecruiser. The two tugs and the crane were “plopped” as individual lots. The adjacent barge and tug were another lot. The machinists barge, tug, and small boat was a single lot. And the motor lighter and battlecruiser were also individual lots. Much like a jig-saw puzzle, all the lots were created for other purposes, but could also be assembled to create one large scene. The steam tug Goliath, standing by the machinists barge, is courtesy of “Barroco Hispano”, while all the remaining ships and boats visible in the picture are by @AP. This is a shot of the Motor Vessel Rian – typical of hundreds of small coastal trading vessels plying the waters of Europe in 1910 -- still numerous today. Easily maneuvered in small harbors and shallow channels, they require only a small crew to operate, and still perform invaluable service moving cargo to overlooked destinations. MV Rian by “Barroco Hispano”. Coastal trading vessels are much like hand-crafted Italian shoes – they come in all shapes and sizes, and fit the owner like a glove. The slightly larger MV Seeadler can be seen “working cargo” at the end of the dock, using her own cargo booms to hoist the goods ashore. If you look closely, you will notice the crewmen in the hold, rigging the crates. Yet another detailed model by “AP”. A close-up view of the docks, warehouses, and some of the activity. This is an overview of the area just beyond the docks. The Munitions Pier can be seen in the lower left. In the center of the picture, there is a group of ships moored to “dolphins”. Docks were very expensive to build and there were never enough to go around. It was not uncommon for large harbors to have rows of mooring dolphins constructed out in the open areas where ships could be moored without tying-up the available dock space. Our “dolphin row” was inspired by those found in old photos of the port of Hamburg. This is a first effort at this type of scene – and it will get better with practice. This shows the close-up detail of a “dolphin row”, with a Nordwind tug (right, outboard) – a Passat tug (moored inboard) – two Sophia Class steam paddle tugs – and a pair of sailing luggers. The first step to creating the dolphin row is to create a “base lot” with two pairs of dolphins, spaced slightly apart, in the middle of the lot tile, and overhanging the opposite sides of the tile. There are always empty mooring dolphins in a harbor, and you will need this lot to fill-in gaps between dolphin lots with moored ships. My harbors are 30 meters deep, so my dolphins are elevated 30 meters above the lot tile. Oddly enough, that is just adequate to cover the slanting bases of the dolphins with water. This is a slightly expanded view of the dolphin row, with a Prometheus Class collier in the foreground, and a Proteus Class collier in the background. Note the line of empty dolphins (base lots) trailing astern of the two ships. The next step is to populate the dolphin row with ships. The small paddle tugs only require a 1x2 lot – one tile for the centered dolphins, and one tile for the paddle tugs. ALWAYS use your “base lot” as the starting point for your “lot scene” – that way the dolphins will always match-up with each other. This shot gives you a view of the continuous dolphin row. If you tried to make this in one big lot – it would measure roughly 17x3. Anyone who has ever opened the Maxis “Lot Reader” to change the “lotconfigproperty” on a lot that size – usually winds up in a “rest home”. Make the row lots modular – one for paddle tugs -- one for luggers – others as single ships. All of the @AP models are well balanced with tight “LOD’s” and can always be lotted as overhanging props. Smaller ships (tugs – lighters) can be lotted as 1x2’s. Larger ships are usually 2x2’s – and no more than a 3x3 – unless you want more than one ship per lot. You can make big, complicated lots – but I highly recommend modular lots that can be assembled into a larger scene on the map tile. NEXT TIME…… CUXHAVEN: THE PHOTO TOUR 11 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 53: THE PHOTO TOUR 09 THE REFUELING DOCK Coal was still “King” in the early days of the 20th Century. It was used to power factories, run electric power plants, and heated most homes or “flats” (apartments). Mass transportation could not have existed without coal: locomotives thrived on it and ships of all sizes devoured it. But the discovery of “Crude Oil” in Pennsylvania in 1859, and Azerbaijan (Russia) somewhat later, was the beginning of what we now consider the modern petroleum industry. The ability to refine crude oil into kerosene, gasoline, and the heavier “fuel oil” changed the face of the modern world by making the internal combustion engine possible. All the “industrialized” nations were aware of the advantages of liquid fuels, but the British were the first to take it seriously. If London was going to be full of the noise and fumes of “auto-mobiles”, they needed to secure a reliable source of oil. In 1901, a millionaire London socialite, William Knox D’Arcy (something of a “wildcatting entrepreneur/speculator” from Australia) paid 20,000 Pounds to the Shaw of Iran for a 60 year lease to prospect for oil in the whole of the country. (Having received what would now be about 2.7 million Pounds, the Shaw thought he had gotten the better end of the deal.) By 1908, D’Arcy’s expedition had drilled hundreds of exploratory wells – all of them dry. Told to fold his tent and disband the crews, geologist George Reynolds defied the “stop-work-order” and drilled one last hole. Reynolds struck oil in what was then the largest pool in the world. By 1913 a huge oil refinery had been built at Abadan and it would remain the largest in the word until the 1950’s. At this point, as in many other instances of modern history, Winston Churchill enters the picture. The newly named Anglo-Persian Oil Company was contacted by he British Admiralty soon after their new refinery was fully operational. Churchill, First Lord of The Admiralty, had embarked on a three-year-program to modernize the Royal Navy and was keen to abandon coal-burning warships in favor of oil-burners. Obviously, fuel oil was much easier to handle – no “horrors” of “coaling ship” – and oil had a much higher energy density than coal – providing a greatly extended operating radius. Basically, the British Admiralty bought a 51% controlling interest and became the defacto owners of Anglo-Persian Oil. The British battle fleet was far too large to easily convert from coal-firing to oil-burning, and the easy access to English coal mines became a positive asset when war broke out in 1914. But Churchill’s foresight paid off in December 1914 when HMS Queen Elizabeth, the world’s first oil-fired battleship, was commissioned into the Royal Navy. The Kaiserliche Marine never fully embraced fuel-oil – mainly because they didn’t have any. Germany’s natural abundance of coal was one of the chief reasons the nation had risen to the top of industrial manufacturing in Europe. Without oil as a natural resource, it was only logical for the Imperial Navy and the German shipping industry to rely upon coal. But, as discussed in previous chapters, German coal deposits were largely Bituminous – often referred to as “soft coal”. While ideal for manufacturing work – where furnaces could be huge and easily accessible for “trimming fires” – Bituminous coal did not preform well in the confined spaces of a ship’s boiler. Simply put – Bituminous coal does not burn as hot as Anthracite coal, and leaves a good deal of noncombustible waste in the fire grates of boilers – where it is difficult to remove (“trimming the fire”). The build-up of waste in the boiler fireboxes will reduce the efficiency of the boiler and reduce the speed of the ship. Beginning around 1913, as a means to counter the effects of “soft coal”, the Kaiserliche Marine began using “supplementary oil-firing”. This system consisted of fitting oil sprayers inside the boiler fireboxes (think of the fire prevention sprinklers in an office building). Fuel oil could be sprayed directly on the burning coal to quickly increase the temperature of the fire. This not only kept the boiler fires “hot”, but helped incinerate more of the coal, reducing it to ash, and making it easier to trim the fires. This method made it possible to quickly light-off a cold boiler to raise steam, or to keep the fires hotter during prolonged high-speed steaming, and could even be used to dramatically increase the ship’s speed in an emergency. Supplementary oil firing was retro-fitted to all Imperial capital ships by the end of 1915 and was a design feature of all new construction after 1912. The fuel oil bunker capacity varied somewhat between ships, but was usually no less than 300 tons. (During the Great War, Germany managed to obtain a reliable supply of oil from Romania – but chose to retain coal as the fleet’s primary fuel source.) There were times when moving a 25,000-ton warship to a fueling pier to top-off a couple of hundred tons of oil might be considered an inconvenience. Here you see the oil lighter “Hans Kahler” pulling up to SMS Hindenburg. Once secured alongside, she will begin transferring oil to the battlecruiser. The handsome model of Hindenburg was scratch-built by @AP. Another shot showing more detail on the small oil lighter. Model courtesy of @Barroco Hispano. The Oil Fuel Replenishment Pier and Tank Farm can be seen in the center of the picture, adjacent to the Coaling Docks. Another view of the Fuel Oil Pier and Tank Farm. In this view of the Fuel Oil Pier and Tank farm, you can see how they were tucked into the smallest possible space. The nearby Munitions Pier can be seen in the upper right, and the Repair Docks in the upper left. Again, in this view you can see how the installations have been laid out as “tightly” as possible, but care was taken to see that traffic from any given system (coaling or oil) did not interfere with the operation of its neighbor. This is a closer look at the actual Fuel Oil Pier. Originally, the only fueling device I could find in the game was “Simmer2’s” floating “Fuel Pontoon” – but a few minutes working with that confirmed it was of no use in this situation. Consequently, I had to construct my own pier from a rather intricate framework. In order to get a close fit between most of the warship models and the dock, the topside portions of the dock had to rest on a 1x1 centreline base – with half of the dock overhanging the base. In order to fill out the dock, I had to repeat the process on the other side. It took some doing, and I was only able to accomplish the feat after some serious consultation and examination by “AP”. I used sections of the upper dock from the “PEG SNM Battleship Docks” to surface the whole thing and then surrounded the outer edges with the “WMP Seawalls” to give the impression of “wooden buffers”. There were a lot of overhanging and “offset” props in the construction process, and it took a great deal of moving and adjusting to get everything to line up properly. The lot size is 27x1 – the longest single lot I ever created. In this detail, you can see the sections of the “battleship docks” arranged to form the surface of the pier – with the “WMP Seawalls” arranged around the outer edges. With the sections of “dock” arranged to overhang both sides of the base tile, a sunken corridor down the middle has been formed. On this “lower level”, various stacks of bagged chemicals (mostly solvents and absorbents) are stacked, and numerous fire-fighting stations are arranged. On the right of the picture you can see the pumping substation for the pier. Along both sides of the pier are the ingenious fueling derricks devised by "AP". We searched high and low, but could find no photographs – or even a written description – of a fueling apparatus from the period. We had to devise some sort of derrick that was practical for its purpose, and looked like it was suited to the early 1900’s. This is a closer look at the fueling derricks. “AP” made two different derricks – one in use (right side of picture), and another closed-down (bottom of picture). The mechanical arms supporting the fueling hoses are simple and utilitarian, and the draped hose running down to the outlets in the derrick base allow the derrick arms to be extended or retracted as needed. I apologize for the feeder hoses running down to the ship’s deck. I got them about the right length, but I had to place the derricks on the pier in a standard pattern to fit large capital ships – sometimes they don’t always match-up with the ship models. And some warships had to be moved a bit further from the dock to even come close. Sometimes you just have to do the best you can and run with it. The following two pictures show the front and the back of the Pumping Control Station for the pier. Below the station, pipes with shut-off valves can be manually operated in an emergency. In the upper level of the building, the control office has a bank of electronic switches to start or stop the flow to each individual derrick, an adjustable flow rate dial, and a gauge recording each hundred tons of fuel pumped across to the ship. This is the rear of the pumping control station. The prop is one of the old Maxis “dirty industry” buildings. After cycling through them a couple of times, I settled on this one because it had a considerable amount of external detail – as opposed to a simple square pump house. And – it was the only one that really looked like it “belonged” on the pier. Consequently, I have used it in several other places along the pipelines as a standard pump station. The two cruisers fueling in this picture are British, and were built between the World Wars. On the left is a Leander Class light cruiser. Two of her sister ships, HMS Ajax and Achilles, helped to fight the KM Admiral Graf Spee off the River Plate in 1939. On the right is the heavy cruiser HMS Devonshire – one of the very successful “County Class” cruisers. Devonshire was tasked with evacuating King Haakon VII, and Crown Prince Olav, from Norway in June 1940. The County Class were impressive ships and saw a good deal of service during WW II. This is an excellent broadside view of Devonshire showing her strong and handsome profile. Two of her sister ships, HMS Norfolk and Suffolk, sighted KM Bismarck in the Denmark Strait when she attempted to breakout into the Atlantic on 23 May 1941. Both cruiser models are courtesy of @Barroco Hispano. (My apologies. I know these ships are WW II era, and certainly not German, but they are fine models and I hated to see them go to waste.) On the far side of the pier, the tugs are nudging a U.S. Navy Cimarron Class Fleet Oiler into position to unload her cargo. I apologize for not having a proper WW I era tanker model, but “AP” was so busy working on other things – we simply did not get around to making one. The Cimarron Class ships were built by the U.S. Navy to specifically provide “underway replenishment” in the vast stretches of the Pacific Ocean. They were long and fast for their day, and built to withstand the nasty weather frequently encountered in the central Pacific. Thirty of these ships were built between 1939 and 1945. On the near side of the pier is the “SS Texaco Ohio”. Both tanker models are by “Barroco Hispano”. This is a detail shot of the pier. Note that the tanker Ohio is served by three sets of fuel derricks. This particular berth was laid out as a “tanker berth” to facilitate loading and unloading. The “SS Texaco Ohio” should be well known from the vicious Malta convoy battle of “Operation Pedestal” in August 1942. Ohio was specially strengthened to deal with air attacks and she was later known as...”the ship the Luftwaffe could not sink”. This is a close-up of a “lighter basin” on the north side of the fuel oil pier. This is typical of the largely unused corners of harbors where lighters were randomly dumped while someone decided what to do with them. Most of these lighters are loaded with barrels of oil and other lubricants, while two have bags of chemicals, one has ship’s stores, and others are empty. A Midgard Class tug stands by while two small boats pick through the jumble to hook up a tow. The amount of detail “AP” built into these tiny “barges” is absolutely amazing. Each one is a miniature work of art. Even the cargo in the lighters has been laid-out and worked to appear as individual items, rather than a mass blob of unidentifiable “stuff”. The tugboat, small boats, lighters, and mooring dolphins are the wonderful creations of “AP”. On the opposite side of the fuel oil basin, we find “Langer Heinrich” (“Big Henry”) moored at her permanent berth. In her day, Langer Heinrich was the largest, heavy-lift, floating crane in the world – making it possible to preform heavy repair and construction tasks without the need of a dry dock or “fitting-out” pier. (See Chapter 14 for full details on the crane.) An Odin Class tug is hooking up a tow to move the massive crane to her next job. The tug, small boat, crane, and mooring dolphins are by “AP”. The “rickety pier” on the left is from the old Maxis (“PEG”) Cannery Lot. It was attached to a modified “NBVC Seawall”, and given a small boat coming alongside. This is an overview of the area between the fuel replenishment dock and the tank farm, which contains a whole range of fueling infrastructure. Directly behind the fueling dock are the intermediate storage tanks. These are, basically, “ready use” tanks for feeding fuel into the pipeline connected to the fueling dock. Above them, and to the left, is the rail delivery point. Two main pipelines can be seen connecting the various areas, which are controlled by pumping stations at several different levels. This is the Central Pumping Station, connected to pipeline feeders from the Fuel Pier, the two banks of “ready use” tanks, and the main Tank Farm. Fuel unloaded from tankers at the pier can be directed into the ready-use tanks, or sent directly to the main Tank Farm for storage. By the same token, oil sent to the fueling pier can be taken from the ready-use tanks (standard procedure), or directly from the main Tank Farm in an emergency. The “Mobil Oil” tanks, and both large and small pipelines are by “Simmer2” and proved remarkably flexible and easy to work with. Many of the concrete areas have been filled in with Paeng’s “Grunge Concrete” – and especially the concrete set with overhanging props to fill in angles and spaces beneath the pipelines where needed. The complicated arrangement of the larger features (tanks and pipelines) resulted in unused “blank” spaces, which were filled in with various 1x1 and 1x2 modular custom made lots. You can see on the left end of the tanks where the leftover space was turned into a construction/maintenance yard, with trucks, earth-moving equipment, Quonset Hut workshops, and piping supplies. This is the tank car loading facility. Oil can be shipped in and out of the naval base by rail as needed. The “NBVC Tank Car” delivery system is excellent in all respects, but is obviously too modern for the early 20th Century. We were, however, unable to find any information or pictures of the actual facilities – so I simply went with what was already in the game. You will notice I connected the two structures to the pumping station with an above ground pipeline – borrowed from the “NBVC Tank Farm Set”. In retrospect, I could have exchanged the diesel engines for two steam locomotives – but the thought did not occur to me at the time. Beside the pumping station you can see a water and coaling stop for the steam locomotives (borrowed from various “PEG” railroad lots). The dispatch office is from “SFBT” (I believe.) The various elements were tied together with assorted 1x1 and 1x2 custom-made modular lots and “Paeng Grunge Concrete” pieces. This view shows the connecting pipelines where they enter the main tank farm. The pipeline on the right goes through a pumping station, then into a building where the main line is split into five smaller pipes used to connect to the large storage tanks. The square building was borrowed from the “Simmer2” pipeline sets. The pipeline on the left goes directly into a pumping control station where the pipes are split. The large tank farm and connecting pipes are from the “NBVC Tank Farm” kit. You will notice the pipelines climb a 15 meter hill in two stages, making it easier to raise the oil to the height of the tank farm. The tanks were built on the higher elevation so “Gravity feed” could be used to transfer oil in the event of a power failure. The chain link fences and concrete areas surrounding the tanks were borrowed from the “NBVC Container Seaport” kit. Quite a bit of “NBVC’s” seaport was created with modular lots, making it easy to work with and extremely flexible for creating larger structures. This is an over view of the actual “Tank Farm” where the bulk of the fuel oil is stored. The shot gives a clear view of the raised platform upon which it was built. The large storage tanks are, again, from the “NBVC Tank Farm” kit. They proved to be quite useful as a naval oil storage facility – not least because I saw many such tanks scattered around the Long Beach area in California. (Long Beach was a major U.S. Navy anchorage before the Pacific Fleet was transferred to Pearl Harbor in the late 1930’s.) Another view of the Tank Farm. The area on the far side of the platform is occupied by the administrative offices, repair, maintenance, and supply functions. These are all 1x1 and 1x2 custom-made lots that can be used in a variety of different situations. A final overview. The tank farm platform is composed largely of concrete retaining walls and topped by a huge concrete pad, on which, the storage tanks sit. The concrete pad and fences are composed of 1x1 and 1x2 pieces from the “NBVC Container Port” kit, topped by the “NBVC” Tank Farm set. “NBVC” was a prolific “batter” in his day, and contributed many extensive “kits” – most of them “modular” -- which we still find indispensable. This could be called a wharf, pier, or landing – depending upon the interpretation of the word. “Landing” is, perhaps, the better choice. In any harbor there must be a place where small boats can tie-up without interfering with “official business” or the commercial trade. There are any number of reasons why sailors might come ashore to run errands, or pick up small bits of stores and goods, so “landings” became common fixtures in harbors. “AP” has provided a variety of “landings” in several shapes and sizes. These are simple wooden piers created as overhanging props designed to “plop” in the water alongside the seawall. The trick to using them on a lot is to adjust the height of the landing to sit on top of the seawall while resting on the harbor floor. The landings have “tight LOD’s” and can be dressed-out with a variety of props. A selection of 1x1 custom-made lots were placed behind the landing to create a small working area. The steam launch, and larger steam pinnace moored to the landing are by “Barroco Hispano”. The stacks of bagged goods on the landing were taken from “IRM Industrial Filler” lots. The landing, mooring dolphins, small boats, and other props on the landing are all by “AP”. Moored to dolphins along the seawall are (right) a Passat Class seagoing tug and (left) a pair of sailing “luggers”. For the sake of identification, we have assigned the name “Clara” to the luggers. Clara is actually, a square-rigged, two-masted, Brigantine. As a warship, they would have been referred to as a “Brig”. In merchant service they were often arbitrarily called by the collective term “lugger”. As trading vessels, they were generally 165 feet in length (or smaller) with a maximum displacement of around 500 tons. They were shallow draft for easy use in small harbors and coastal waters. “Luggers” were the “Amazon” delivery trucks of their day – everywhere, delivering everything. The ships were mostly wooden construction with simple, uncomplicated hull lines that were easy to build. Being small, they did not require a large crew to operate and their hull form allowed a fairly large cargo of bags, crates, barrels, or bulk-haul goods. In 1898, the Port of London alone recorded 6,050 arrivals of coal luggers – an estimated fleet of over 600 “luggers”. Just imagine the numbers of luggers working the Continental coastal trade. Luggers were cheap, economical to operate, and would return a huge profit over a 30 year lifespan – which accounts for their continued use into the late 1930’s. In this view, you can see Clara’s wide hull to accommodate cargo. If you look closely, you will see the crews are aloft, preparing the sails for an imminent departure. One of the older steam tugs will tow them out beyond the breakwater, where they will shake out the canvas and set a course. A small boat has come alongside to make a last minute delivery of some small goods in the sternsheets. No doubt a bit of “private business”. (Luggers made excellent smuggling vessels for “duty free” goods.) These beautiful little models are the highly detailed work of “AP”. NEXT TIME…… CUXHAVEN: THE PHOTO TOUR 10 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 52: THE PHOTO TOUR 08 THE COALING DOCKS In this chapter, we will pick up our tour where we left off. But first, I thought I’d re-orient you with the map tile (picture above). On the extreme left (west) of the picture is “Battery Scharnhorst” – and just around the corner is the Neu Hafen (main Cuxhaven anchorage). Just inside the entrance to the breakwater are the coaling and fuel oil replenishment docks. Easing into the harbor is the battlecruiser Von der Tann, with two Nordwind and two Passat Class tugs waiting to guide her to a berth. Two patrol boats (motor launches) can be seen “tail-moored” to the breakwater, while an Erie Class gunboat (previous chapters) is anchored just outside the breakwater, pulling guard duty. This is a close-up of the magnificently detailed Von der Tann model, graciously provided by @Barroco Hispano. (See Chapters 14 & 15 for details.) The battlecruiser is leaving the deep water channel and crossing into the shallow waters of the roadsted. I was interested in working with the “NBVC Corals”, and used them to cover the seabed to delineate the deep water boundary. You can see them spread around the bow of the ship and they extend down the sloping bottom until they disappear into the deeper water. This view also gives you a good look at the excellent textures and detailing of the “Uki” breakwaters. This is a detail shot of the tugs waiting to assist Von der Tann to her berth. The two on the left are Nordwind Class sea-going tugs, based largely on a class of tugboats built by the Hamburg-America Steamship Line to handle their large ocean liners. Around 1903, Kaiser Wilhelm was much impressed with their power and asked the Director of the shipping line (Albert Ballin) to build a variation of his tugs for handling large Imperial warships. (Ballin was a close personal friend of Wilhelm and his home included the addition of a suite of rooms built specifically for Royal use during visits to Hamburg.) You will notice Nordwind has an open navigation bridge (quite common in those days), and twin funnels – indicating up to eight boilers to provide steam for her powerful engines. The two tugs on the right, standing-by to assist, are Passat Class – a more modern and improved version of the original, with an enclosed wheel house and slightly larger engines. Both models are meticulously detailed and superbly textured – courtesy of “AP”. The two ships moored to the “barrel buoy” are from the “PEG Scows” pack. These ships have no historical relevance to the Dreadnought Era, but they were among the early custom content introduced to SC4 for maritime purposes. They are interesting little ships in their own right, nicely modeled and textured, with a minimum of detail and an abundance of “grunge”. For a long time, they were the only “bulk haulers” in the game. These are, in fact, “Ore Scows” – but as you can see – they easily pass for coal scows. I confess...I included them mostly as an “homage” to “The Good Old Days” of SC4. As discussed in previous chapters, coal-fired boilers were the primary means of propulsion for warships at the turn of the century, and a battleship – no matter how many guns she carried – could only carry those guns as far as full coal bunkers would take her. The Royal Navy possessed an enormous advantage in having numerous colonies – and coaling stations -- scattered all over the globe. A large fleet could be deployed from Portsmouth to Hong Kong without need to rely upon neutral ports or foreign coal stocks. The Kaiserliche Marine, of course, had no such far flung empire upon which to depend. But German warships in German harbors made full use of the facilities. Cuxhaven’s Neu Hafen was constructed with a medium-sized coaling facility. The coaling docks can accommodate four battlecruisers, or six smaller cruisers at a time. But having a dock available could not be allowed to delay the replenishment of coal bunkers. A “first-rate” Kapitan would move Heaven and Earth to ensure his ship was “combat-ready” at all times. If all the docks were busy, coal lighters could be laid-on and towed out to the ships at their berths. This is an overview of the coaling docks and the fuel oil “replenishment point”. On the right you can see the docks where coal and oil can be brought into the naval base by commercial shipping – or dispensed to the warships of the fleet. On the left you see the large, concrete coal storage complex, and the much smaller oil storage “tank farm”. These facilities were located in the west end of the harbor area primarily due to their large “footprint” – they take up a lot of space. Also, their purpose is to refuel ships, which quite naturally generates a great deal of traffic. Placing the docks at the far end of the harbor provided room for the towing, turning, and berthing of the big warships. This is a closer view of the “business end” of the coaling docks. This general arrangement was inspired by a similar set of docks operating in Cardiff, Wales in the late 1920’s. Since the game has none of the usual mechanized devices or elaborate structures for handling coal – especially for warships – I had to devise a reasonably workable method of moving coal. I ran a rail line down the center of the docks, raising the ground level behind the coaling points, and connecting them with the “NAM 32” viaduct pieces. (Yes – I’m a “dinosaur” – I still run NAM-32.) The locomotives push loaded coal cars along the viaduct until they reach the dump point. There the doors in the bottom of the gondolas are opened manually and the coal slides down the concrete slope to the large pile at the bottom – a “gravity feed” delivery system. The coaling docks can accommodate four ships at a time. The pier portion of the docks were borrowed from the “PEG SNM Cruiser Lots”. Two cruiser piers were rotated and pushed together to form one long dock. The piers were arranged as overhanging props so the front end would be in the water. The coal piles were (I believe…) from the Polish Power Station lot. (But I could be wrong about that.) Two stacks were arranged to slightly overhang each other, and the lot, so the coal would appear to be piled up against the concrete slide. A third stack was placed in the middle of those, and the prop was elevated until it gave the appearance of a much taller coal pile, while still “meshing” with the others. The coaling lot is 13x4, and various warehouses, water towers, and 1x1 custom lots were used to fill in around the edges. I dislike large, “set-piece” lots, but using the “cruiser piers” imposed certain restrictions, so it became necessary. With the exception of the shipping, everything else in the picture has been pieced together by re-lotting or re-purposing elements already in-game. SMS Lutzow is seen tied-up at the coaling dock, preparing to “coal ship”. She is the second of three Derfflinger Class battlecruisers. The elegant model is courtesy of @Barroco Hispano. (See Chapters 23 & 24 for details on the ship.) The coaling cranes dockside were borrowed from the “PEG Trash Disposal lots” and down-sized a bit for use. This shot provides a good view of the “stacked” coal piles. At this point, I should probably mention that “coaling ship” was an “all-hands” – “round-the-clock” evolution. Once coaling was started, the operation did not stop until the bunkers had been filled. The “Duty Watch” personnel (for the most part) would remain on “Watch” for as many hours as it took. Coaling went on day or night, though the sailors did not like working under flood lamps -- the powerful lights alternated between blinding glare and casting long dark shadows in other places. Once the coal was taken aboard, the backbreaking work was not over. The ship still had to be moved back to her berth, the decks scrubbed down, and the crew cleaned up before they could catch a quick bite to eat and fall into their hammocks for well-deserved sleep. Needless to say, “coaling ship” was the least enjoyable part of a sailor’s life. Right next to Lutzow, a Sophia Class paddle tug is towing two empty lighters out of the crowded coaling basin. Note the fine detail modeled into the paddle tug and the lighters. Moored at “dolphins” along the seawall is an elderly Nordwind Class tug (left). Astern of her is a more modern Passat Class – an improved “second generation” of Nordwind. The tugs are standing by to maneuver full lighters into a berth, and haul empty ones away. The tugs, lighters, and mooring dolphins are by “AP”. The concrete seawalls were borrowed from the “NBVC Marina” kits. 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 (found in “AP’s Propulsion Prop Pack). 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. The motor lighter, itself, is a single prop. The sailors, rope coils, and engines are additional props added to the model in the “lotting” process. This is only possible because “AP” put a lot of effort into keeping his “LOD’s” tight on the cargo deck. This is a close-up of a Thor Class tug standing-by to take two coal lighters under tow. This should give you yet another example of the high quality models and the enormous amount of detail worked into them by “AP”. Thor looks every bit the “worn-out 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”. Note the surrounding activity going on n the lower part of the picture – another example of our “busy harbor” theory. Here we see a Thor Class tug maneuvering 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 to “stabilize the tow” – or even raking through it for foreign debris. Here again, you can see the wonderful high-def models in all their detailed glory. Even the mooring dolphins lining the seawalls are superb. This scene is typical of “busy harbors” – especially coaling basins. Numerous lighters are moored to dolphins – single, double, and even triple moorings – with small boats milling about, and tugs maneuvering the lighters into position. This is the battlecruiser SMS Mackensen taking on coal -- as she might have appeared at her planned commissioning in 1919. A major improvement over 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. (See Chapters 42 for details of this ship.) This magnificent model is courtesy of Barroco Hispano. As you can see in the picture, I had to fill in details on and around the coaling docks with whatever props I could find. Some were actually too modern (shipping containers) but they were pressed into service anyway. I thought it better to “stretch” the historical timeline on the props, rather than wind up with mostly empty dockside scenes. SMS Hindenburg, the “third sister” of the Derfflinger Class, is moored at the coaling docks and preparing to “coal ship”. This fantastic model was scratch-built by @AP, who has generously devoted much time and effort to this project. It should be noted – for the record – warship models are larger, far more complicated, and enormously time-consuming compared to the average ship model. And -- “AP” goes well beyond the “Call of Duty” to build-in so much more detail than most other 3-D modelers. (For specific details about the battlecruiser, see Chapter 41.) On a somewhat related theme – I would like to offer a small apology for the lack of variety found on the coaling docks. The main reason for the repetitive nature of the lots is the simple lack of suitable in-game props. I have been haunting this website for a little over a decade, and there has never been a concerted effort to create a working product chain for coal. There are very small and primitive coal mining lots, a “coking” plant, coal-fired power plants, some very simplified coaling docks, and the occasional inadequate effort to create a loading “hopper” device. BUT – there has never been enough attention paid to the props and machines needed to move coal from the mines to a destination, then load it or unload it. Mostly, I was forced to use rather convoluted methods to move coal to a dock and get it aboard a ship. You see bulldozers on the docks – but they did not exist in that form in 1905. And you see “bucket cranes” loading and unloading both rail cars and ships. Bucket cranes are suitable for loading a rail car – but totally unsuited to unloading one. And bucket cranes are used to deposit coal onto a warship’s deck, where the crew shovels it down “coaling chutes” into the bunkers below. It is a primitive method – but the only one I could devise with the props available in the game. Actual coaling stations had elaborate rail/trestle structures with mechanical overhead hoppers that lifted the coal from the cars by conveyor buckets, then funneled it down a long chute to the ship. The end of the coal chute had a long canvas sleeve that connected to the bunker chutes, thereby avoiding dumping coal on the ship’s deck. (I’m certain “AP” could have modeled something suitable, but he was already working overtime to make the other props for the game – so we never got around to it.) But – that’s my reason for the less than efficient means of moving coal around, and for using modern props. “Mea Culpa”. (BTW – under these primitive arrangements, the average ship’s crew could load around 60 tons of coal an hour – perhaps 70 tons.) This view shows the coaling docks in the upper right of the picture and the main coal storage facility in the bottom center. The storage facility consists of two large, open-air concrete pads directly behind the coaling docks. Commercial coal is delivered to the storage facility via the main rail line visible at the bottom of the shot. The coal is then loaded into cars and shuttled via the railroad viaduct to the coaling docks. This is a closer view of the receiving, storage, and distribution system. Commercial coal is delivered by rail from the main track to the right. The loaded cars are backed onto the dumping ramps, the doors in the bottom of the coal gondolas are opened, and the coal slides down the concrete slope onto the waiting piles at the bottom. The facility is set up to unload as many as four trains at one time, and may operate day and night, as necessary. 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 the props immediately. They have all been re-purposed to move coal to the warships in the harbor. As mentioned above, I have used many 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 – again -- my apologies. This is the distribution point where the coal is loaded into gondolas and shipped to the coaling docks. The coaling cranes were borrowed from the “PEG Trash Removal” lots, reduced in size, and lotted onto 1x1 modular pieces. The water towers (mostly for fire fighting) were taken from the old Maxis Movie Studio. The chain link fences and most of the concrete roadways were taken from the “NBVC Modular Seaport” – they are largely 1x1 lots and very flexible in use. I used “Paeng” grunge concrete in places to fill in difficult angles, or to simulate older, patched areas in the larger pad. Several other 1x1 and 1x2 custom-made lots used various props and a variety of small liquid tanks, warehouses, and various trucks and cranes to fill in the working areas. This is a close-up of the east side distribution point (the coaling docks are to the left of the picture). 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. The locomotives in the picture are the “Peg Shuttle Engines” – modified for steam -- and the rolling stock in the picture is most likely “PEG” as well. I believe the 1x2 segment of vertical wall on the dumping ramp (right of picture) was repurposed and re-lotted with railroad signal boxes. If I remember correctly, “Mattb325” originally created the vertical walls as roadside parking/parks area built on a slope. NEXT TIME…… CUXHAVEN: THE PHOTO TOUR 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

IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: CUXHAVEN By: Dreadnought & AP Chapter 48: THE PHOTO TOUR 04 THE WEST LOCH – Part 04 In this chapter we take a look at the north end of the West Loch. The overview below shows the north tug station, a “rail stop” behind it, and a lighter basin. This is the north tug station. We already discussed all the component parts and tugboats in previous chapters, but you will notice the station is different from the south tug station. Again, this station is constructed from 1x2 and 1x1 modular lots. Everything you see has either been re-purposed (parking lots) or re-lotted from existing game lots. Another view – showing a different angle and some better views of the tugboats. You should note – the trees beside the Quonset Hut are my custom-made 1x1 Tree Filler Lots. Same tug station – different angle. And one more angle. The modular lots allow you to assemble them in any configuration, on any size piece of terrain – large or small – as you see fit. Notice the small sand hill in the lower left corner of the shot. In this picture, the Quonset Hut is a 1x2 modular lot, while the four lots behind it are “standard” 1x1 lots that can be used in a wide variety of situations – but they look perfectly “normal” as placed. To the right of them is a 1x2 “Winch maintenance Lot”. Here, sailors are preforming repairs and maintenance on the “deck winches”. Warships have several different sized winches installed on the Weather Decks for a variety of reasons. When one fails, it is unbolted and lifted off the deck by crane, then sent her for repair or replacement. The winches, sailors, and small crane are by @AP . In the early 20th Century, lighters were relatively inexpensive to build and were the most common type of “hull” used to transport “short-haul” cargo. They were a common sight in harbors the world over and, like pigeons, they could be found in flocks moored to docks, piers and, most often, jammed together in large jumbled groups. Sometimes they had cargo waiting to be delivered to a given pier, sometimes they were “parked” until needed, and sometimes numerous empty lighters just accumulated in unwanted masses. Some harbors were designed with “Lighter basins” – where lighters could be temporarily “parked”. Two small boats from the tug station have come to “cut out” the lighter with the red barrels. They’ll run a tow line to the tug Helena so the lighter can be moved. Note that two of the lighters have been unloaded and the empty hulls returned to the mooring basin. This shot gives you an excellent view of the mooring dolphins, lighters, small boats, and the paddle tug Helena. “AP” has crafted each one of these models in intricate detail and weathered textures befitting an old towed lighter that has seen better days. Another angle of the lighter basin. I managed to get the breakwater “attached” to the shore – but it was not easy, and I had to “finesse” the final connection with a lot of MMP work. This is the only problem I have encountered in using the “Uki” breakwaters – they are very hard to bring ashore in a smooth join. This is the “Rail Stop” on the north end of the Loch. Once again, the size and shape of the complex differs from others – none of them are “standardized” in any way. Note the small sand hill –lower, left of center. And you can clearly see the sandy hillsides along the left side of the picture. Notice how the sandy terrain blends seamlessly into the heavily forested areas. The rail siding and cars on the left are from “Simmer2” – but I’m not sure where cars adjacent to that actually came from. The two steam locomotives were re-lotted using the “Peg Switcher and Tank Engine” props – modified to show steam. The whole layout is utilitarian, small and compact, and bustling with working figures. Another view of the Rail Stop. Here is a detail shot of the Rail Stop complex. The two small buildings on the right are (I believe) “SFBT Signal Boxes” on a 1x2 modular lot, as is the dispatcher’s building on the left (origin unknown). The base of the complex is made up of Paeng Grunge Concrete slabs modified with light poles, people, and assorted props. Once again, the modular nature of the assembly allows great flexibility in designing the size and shape of the complex. Without modular assembly, this lot would be a large, 10x5 fixed construction – and would have to be repeated over and over on the map tile. Modular assembly allows immense variety and flexibility. This view shows the coastline north of the West Loch – to include the North End Light. This lighthouse was newly built when the Loch was expanded and moderrnized, and you can see that it is much more utilitarian than the South End Light. This stretch of shoreline was landscaped before I had perfected my use of the Poseidon Terrain Brushes, and the results were a bit disappointing. You can see where I used the “Heblem Sands” – white and brown – to try to create a beach front backed by some brown earthen areas – all backed by the Poseidon sand hills (which were added later). A close-up shot of the lighthouse. I know the road here does not look all that good, but it was the only way to link the parking area to the highway – without getting into complicated road MOD’s or changing some of the lot exemplars (either of which I strenuously tried to avoid). This view shows the Lightkeeper’s house and maintenance shed. NEXT TIME…… CUXHAVEN: THE PHOTO TOUR 05 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

IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: CUXHAVEN By: Dreadnought & AP Chapter 45: THE PHOTO TOUR BEGINS 01 The previous chapters have been narrowly focused on the evolution of battlecruisers in the Kaiserliche Marine. The sheer length of the text precluded any serious investigation of the map tile on which the warships were displayed, so I thought it was time we checked out the Imperial Dockyard: Cuxhaven – all by itself. I hoped you would find the history of the warships of interest – but I have the feeling you may find the in-game pictures of the actual harbor more interesting. Unlike the text-rich environment of the historical background for the warships, “The Photo Tour” will be mostly photos – with as little text as I can get away with. I would rather you enjoy the pictures, and explore each one for the mass of details I have built into the scenes. It also allows me to demonstrate my original objective – to use the many existing lots, models, and props, to create a new and entirely unique “world” within the framework of a 21-year-old game. I had to stretch the limits of the gaming system and find loopholes and discover “work-arounds” I never knew were possible. It reaffirmed my belief in an old saying we had in the Army…...”There are only eight or nine ways to skin a cat!” A little preliminary background should help you understand where everything is, and how the harbor has been organized. Overall Map Just for gaming purposes, I chose “Cuxhaven” as “home port” to the scouting forces of the Hochseeflotte -- four scouting groups made up of a variety of cruisers, destroyers, and torpedo boats. This map shot gives you a pretty good idea of how it fits together, and the “geographical” pictures have been oriented along a north-south axis. On the west (left side) of the map is the original small anchorage that was in use when ships were smaller and less numerous – the West Loch. Along the north edge is the main anchorage. West Loch This is an overview of the West Loch. Imperial warships first used it as an anchorage in 1881 – when it was not much more than a small inlet surrounded by marshes, with a tiny offshore island. At the time, it sported a couple of run down fishing piers used by nearby villagers. Wilhelm II took the throne in 1888, and he had great plans to increase the size of his Navy. The inlet was on the opposite side of the Jade from Wilhelmshaven, with direct access to the deep water channel, and was an ideal anchorage from which to operate the fleet’s scouting force. Work began immediately on a new main anchorage, around the headland to the east, while the small inlet was expanded and modernized – with proper docks and minimal repair facilities. The dredging and construction work was pushed ahead with great vigor and by 1897, both the small inlet and the new harbor were sufficiently advanced to begin operations. When the battleship HMS Dreadnought and the large dreadnought cruiser HMS Invincible appeared, it was apparent Germany’s battleships and armored cruisers were obsolete and would have to be replaced with larger and more powerful German warships. To make room for the new Grosse Kreuzer in the main anchorage, the old armored cruisers were reorganized into the 3rd Scouting Group and transferred to the small inlet – renamed the West Loch. Though a bit crowded, the Scouting Group is composed of 12 destroyers, 5 protected cruisers, 6 light cruisers, and 11 armored cruisers built between 1895 and 1909. Main Anchorage This is the “Neu Hafen” (New Harbor) – otherwise referred to as the Main Anchorage – located on the north shore of the headland. Most of the harbor area was dredged out of a shallow bay and surrounding wetlands, with the “spoil” used to build up or fill in quay and docking areas. The harbor, itself, is divided into five primary areas: (1) The Roadsted, (2) The Coaling and Fuel Oil Replenishment docks, (3) The Repair and Replenishment docks, (4) The Inner Harbor, (5) The East Berthing Basin, and (6) The Munitions Complex. The work on the Neu Hafen was far more extensive than that in the West Loch, and even with a much larger work force, it was not completed until 1900. Now let us examine the principle areas in a little more detail. The Roadsted The “Roadsted” is the large body of water behind the breakwater and fronting the other areas of the Neu Hafen. It is large enough to accommodate up to 30 capital ships without causing undue congestion. The mooring points along the breakwater were added in 1906, and are reserved for berthing the large Panzerkreuzer. Their location against the breakwater makes the arrival and departure of the big cruisers much quicker and easier. It is normal for them to depart through the south entrance and return through the north entrance. Only the East Berthing Basin and the mooring points along the breakwater are used as permanent berths, while the piers, quays, and wharves of the Neu Hafen are kept open for maintenance, repair, and replenishment. Coaling & Fuel Oil Docks The Coaling and Fuel Oil Replenishment docks are located just inside the south entrance to the Neu Hafen as a matter of convenience. Warships, tankers, and colliers can move directly from the south entrance, or from the Roadsted, to these docks without interfering with traffic in other parts of the harbor. The coaling docks are capable of handling up to four ships at a time. The original plan for the New Hafen called for two coaling docks – but that changed around 1900. The installation of supplemental fuel oil sprayers to coal-fired boilers became a standard practice – so the second coaling dock was replaced with a fuel oil replenishment dock. Repair & Replenishment Docks The Repair and Replenishment Docks were built as the north boundary of the Inner Harbor, separating it from the ongoing traffic of the Roadsted. The docks can resupply warships with everything necessary for their daily operation – from machine parts and equipment, to clerical supplies, foodstuffs, uniforms, and even the dreaded brass polish. If you could requisition it, these docks would supply it. Their other function was to make repairs to ships that could not be handled by the onboard machine shops. They can handle up to six large warships at a time. Inner Harbor The Inner Harbor is host to several specialized services for the Scouting Group and was deliberately planned to remain separate from the Group’s daily “operational” aspects. Inside the Inner Harbor you will find a minesweeper detachment, the ammunition supply pier, a dry dock, a warehouse receiving dock, and berthing for the Group’s destroyer escorts. East Berthing Basin The East Berthing Basin is a series of six long quays providing permanent berth assignments for the light cruisers of the various Scouting Groups. Due to the continued expansion of the torpedo boat flotillas, it became necessary to “nest” some of them in the East Basin, as well. Munitions Complex Here is an overview of the Munitions Complex. On the left, along the main rail line into the harbor, is the loading dock – shells and powder charges can be brought in for storage, or can be disbursed to the warships at this dock. Separated from the loading dock, to the east, is the “hardened bunker” storage facilities. Inside the concrete bunkers, covered by earth, thousands of shells and powder charges are stored for use by the fleet. On the east end of the complex are the smaller torpedo storage bunkers with their own loading dock. The Munitions Complex is separated from the harbor area by a range of hills intended to shield the main anchorage from the effects of an accidental explosion. Now that I have explained the basic composition of the map tile, we can take a closer look at the principle locations. THE WEST LOCH Here, the West Lock is seen from the west, and the picture pretty much includes the whole area. To seaward is the breakwater with mooring points for the armored cruisers. Across the Loch are the Repair Docks, backed with warehouses, and machine shops and foundries just across the rail line from those. To the right of the picture are the Replenishment Docks, and across from them are the “nesting” berths for the destroyers assigned to the 3rd Scouting Group. Just beyond the south entrance to the harbor is South End Light. The scene is composed of the Fischerhaven Lighthouse on a custom lot, seawalls and small boats by NBVC, the Paeng “grunge concrete” roadways, and a variety of modular 1x1 and 1x2 custom-made lots. (I could be more specific about the props, but I’ve got 9.73gb in my Plugins folder and it would take months to track it all down – and endless text to tell you about it.) Using the PEG “Brigantine” Water MOD, the closer to the surface, the more transparent the water becomes. Having fiddled with “Maxis” water for a few years, I had become bored with water that was the same color right along the beach as it was far out to sea. I was pleasantly surprised by Brigantine’s flexibility – allowing me to make deep water, small streams, marshes, and small sea islands. South End Light, viewed from a different angle. This was the first area of the map to actually be built, and my landscape style was purely experimental, at this point. The use of the semi-transparent “Brigantine” water MOD actually allowed me to “landscape” the sea floor in the shallow areas. My particular landscape style is heavily influenced by the fine creations of "Girafe". I have used, somewhere on this map tile, almost every single landscaping tool available on the STEX: Heblem Sands, NBVC Rocks, NBVC Corals, RRP Pasture Flora, the Paeng Forest Park Tweaks, and – the Meadowshire Tree Controller. (There may even be some tools linked to other MMP functions I simply can’t identify.) In this picture, I got a little carried-away landscaping the shallow sea areas with: Girafe Cattails and Feather Grass, some NBVC rocks around the sea wall bases, and some Heblem light Gray sand – which actually looks like “gravel”. Over time, I was able to thin-out the underwater vegetation as my “style” matured. In this view, you get a good look at the Light Keeper’s compound. There are two small service buildings at the base of the lighthouse, a storage shed on the lighthouse quay, a Light Keeper’s house, and a heavy equipment shed adjacent to that. Along the shore line, I tried to create a beach-effect with Heblem brown sand – but it did not work very well. I also used it to try and highlight the slopes on hills behind the lighthouse compound – and that did not work well, either. This picture also shows a wide variety of trees – everything from dead trees right up to the mighty Redwoods. Some of them are individually-plopped MMP work – while others are 1x1 custom made Tree Filler lots. The Filler lots were created in EDITOR from all sorts of props, then plopped at random to simulate forested areas, and blended in using MMP bushes and ground cover. Example: the Redwoods in this picture are a 1x1 lot – but you can’t see where it blends into the forest. This is where the south end of the breakwater goes ashore. I have used ”Uki” breakwaters, exclusively, because they were the most realistic I could find – and they are, for the most part, the easiest to work with. There is, however, a major difficulty in linking them to the shallow shorelines I created with the “Brigantine” MOD. I managed, by “crooking” the joiner piece (an overhanging prop) into an NBVC seawall, to make a reasonably realistic joint. (I covered the actual joint with overhanging MMP trees.) Anchored offshore, the gunboat USS Erie is guarding the entrance through the breakwater. Just inside the breakwater, a motor launch (by @AP) is preparing to exit the harbor to begin an anti-submarine patrol in the sea approaches to the West Loch. Two other motor launches are anchored as back-up, should they be needed. In the landscape ashore, you can see tiny white “Girafe” Narcissus and Daisies – both seasonal and evergreen versions – used extensively for “ground cover”. They are particularly good for blending different types of landscape together. The “Girafe” Berry Bushes are another excellent form of ground cover. (I would be totally lost for landscape tools without @Girafe wonderfully, and laboriously, constructed flora – and his body of work is quite extensive.) Briefly – this is the gunboat USS Erie – 2,000 tons – 20 knots – 4x6-inch guns – 10 anti-aircraft weapons – depth charges. The Washington Naval Treaty of 1922 limited the type (battleships, battlecruisers, cruisers, etc, etc.) and number of warships that could be built by the various signatories. During the London Naval Conference of 1930, it was agreed a new class of ships – “sloops” by definition -- would be restricted in size and armament, but could be built in unlimited numbers. The Erie Class was the result. It was planned as a cheap alternative to the restrictions on the number of destroyers and light cruisers allowed under the Washington Treaty. The ships could be used for fleet screening and scouting duties, anti-submarine warfare, as destroyer leaders, anti-aircraft escorts, minelayers, convoy escort, and even bombardment support for amphibious operations. USS Erie was torpedoed by U-163 in November 1942 and eventually scrapped in 1943. Her sister ship, USS Charleston, survived WW II to serve as a training ship for the Massachusetts Maritime Academy before being scrapped in 1960. Ultimately, the scarcity of funds during the Depression Era leading up to WW II put an end to this idea. (Oddly enough, the idea of masses of US gunboats was only tried once before, during Thomas Jefferson’s Presidency. He loathed the idea of building expensive ships-of-the-line and frigates – but was quite happy to build swarms of useless little gunboats.) This ship, of course, has nothing to do with the Kaiserliche Marine or The Great War. But @Barroco Hispano provided a beautifully detailed model – and I needed something to act as a guard/picket boat for the harbors. This Midgard Class tugboat is tied-up alongside three lighters moored to “Dolphins”. As soon as one of the adjacent Replenishment Docks comes open, the lighters will be moved in to discharge their cargo of casks and barrels. Notice the superb level of detail worked into “AP’s” tugboat and lighter models. Even his Mooring Dolphins – just simple, utilitarian features of any harbor – are highly detailed, weathered, and possessed of the rough, timbered appearance one might expect from the early 1900’s. I’m sure you all noticed the little patch of Autumn leaves in the woodland. This is one of my personal “idiosyncrasies”. Though I enjoy watching the leaves turn orange and scarlet in the Fall – my “soul” craves the bright and rich greens of Spring. So I have chosen not to play the “seasonal” versions of SC4. Instead, I drop the occasional clump of Fall MMP Maples at random in my forested areas – it breaks up the monotony of the solid green canopy. This angle provides an excellent view of the detailing on the Mooring Dolphins, and you will note two of the lighters have barrels stacked so high, the hatch covers could not be used – while the third lighter’s hatch covers are in place. You will also note the difference between the individual trees in the forested area. I made sure there were differences between the leaf and limb structure of the trees, as well as showing the difference in the height of the trees. Nothing looks worse than a mass of trees – all the same color, shape, and height. It might as well be “Astro-Turf”. These are the Replenishment Docks on the south end of the West Loch. Pretty much anything the ship needs to operate and provide for the welfare of the crew can be obtained here – uniforms, boots, bedding, foodstuffs, medical supplies, toiletries, and a wide range of day-to-day items loosely classified as “ship’s stores”. In a “rush situation”, supplies may be brought alongside a warship in lighters, but for large replenishment jobs, the ship is moved to the dock. In the West Loch, there are no coal, oil fuel, or munitions facilities, so those functions have to be carried out around the headland, in the Neu Hafen. The Replenishment Docks are repurposed from “PEG’s Pier One Series” seaport. I modified the lots by removing some of the “timed” cargo props that were a little too modern for the early 1900’s – but still had to use “modern” props that were less obvious. There was nothing else available and I wanted some variety. So – “spoiler alert” – you will find modern props mixed into the whole series. The only other choice was either boring and repetitive, or empty lots. In the foreground is the Armored Cruiser Prinz Adalbert (See Chapter 05 for details of the cruiser.) In the background is a Protected Cruiser of the Victoria Louise Class (See Chapter 02 for details.) Both warships are taking on supplies. This close-up gives you an excellent view of the detail “AP” has built into his models. Each one is historically accurate and thoroughly researched and will teach far more about the ships than all the words written about them. If you look closely, you will see a work detail going about their business on the fantail of Victoria Louise. Looking for all of “AP’s” crewmen is a bit like doing a “Where’s Waldo?” puzzle. All four of the berths at the Replenishment Docks are full, which is in keeping with our theory of the “busy harbor”. Any harbor worth the name is crowded with shipping and bustling with a thousand different things going on in sight of one another. Another view of the Replenishment Docks. You will note they are served by a double track rail line with two large trains parked beside the cargo handling line. The nearest train will unload first, then the rear train will be shuttled into place to unload. The area behind the main tracks is a rail yard built to handle the overflow. The back rail line next to the Dispatcher’s Office has a water tank and coaling tower. Locomotives can drop their freight cars for unloading and shuttle up to refill their water tank and top off their coal. Two tugboats, one Nordwind Class (left) and one Passat Class (right) have just nudged a Roon Class Armored Cruiser against the dock (See Chapter 06 for cruiser details.) Again, this gives you an excellent, close-up view of a beautifully modeled warship. This shot also shows some of the “timed prop” cargo that I left on the Replenishment Docks. This is the right end of the cargo handling pad alongside the rail line. The trackside cranes are from the “PEG SNM Dry Dock” lot. The work details are composed largely from “AP’s” sailor props. I chose to use them because of the difficulty in finding easily recognizable props of civilian workmen. Some of the cargo props were borrowed from the “IRM Filler lots”, while others were just pulled out of the EDITOR “prop box” at random. The purpose of all this activity is to remove the cargo from the rail cars as quickly as possible, then shuttle it across to the warehouses for storage and disbursement. This is the left end of the cargo handling line. There are a wide variety of scenes along the cargo line – men throwing trash into dumpsters, others moving crates, some loading trucks, and one group trying to sort out a jumble of steel girders to load onto trucks. There are any number of small vignettes showing groups of laborers at work on a wide variety of tasks -- all in keeping with the “busy harbor” theory. This is an overview of the cargo handling line, the trains waiting to be unloaded, and the layout of the small rail yard. Again, the back line has a Dispatcher’s Office to control the train traffic, and a water tank and coaling tower for the locomotives. The entire scene is composed of 1x1 modular pieces. Whether you are building a large business plaza, an airport, a complex industrial lot, a park, or an entire harbor -- using modular pieces (in this case 1x1’s) allows you to fit it into any size and shape space that is available – and produces far less repetition. Notice, the locomotives have been modified for steam. Another shot of the rail yard. This is the south tug station in the West Loch. These powerful little boats are responsible for manhandling the big warships into position at the Replenishment Docks. The docks are modified “Somy Japanese Tugboat” lots. I deleted Somy’s tugs and removed the upper prop layer of the docks because they simply did not look like “European” docks. The two steel sheds are the “base” of the Somy lot, while the dock is an overhanging prop. The tug control tower is borrowed from one of the Maxis airports, and the fire prevention water tower is from the old Maxis Movie Studio reward lot. The small white tugboat was “gifted” by “WolfZe”, while all the other tugboats in the picture are by “AP”. Note “AP’s” Mooring Dolphins along the seawall. All the tugboats were “plopped” individually. Everything here is either a 1x1 or 1x2 modular lot. This particular tug station has two docks. The dock on the left can accommodate four “harbor tugs”, while the dock on the right can berth two of the larger sea-going tugs. Using “AP’s” mooring dolphins, two more tugs could be moored along the seawall, while two more (diagonal) tugs are “nested” along the seawall. Using 1x1 and 1x2 modular lots, the basic tugboat station can be expanded to any size you would like, and can be configured to fit any space – extremely flexible when compared to larger, “set-piece” lots of 2x2, 3x3, etc, etc. Another shot of the tug station. The “WolfZe” white tugboat is similar to tugs operating in the Port Of New York from 1910 up through the 1940’s, and was the first tug I had to work with. Clockwise – you have a Thor Class, Midgard Class, Passat Class, and Nordwind Class – all the wonderful work of “AP”. Thor and Midgard are small “harbor tugs”, while Passat and Nordwind are more powerful sea-going tugs – more suitable for shoving around heavy warships. The level of detail on each of these ships is truly amazing. This is a “rail stop” on the west end of the line servicing the Replenishment Docks. This is basically a cheap, low-maintenance method of allowing trains to change direction. Trains come in on the access line (right of picture), then pull up into the “rail stop” before backing down to unload at the docks. This automatically orients the engine to pull out of the dock area when empty. Very inexpensive, and it does not take up large amounts of space. (Of course, I mostly use the old Maxis “Drag & Drop” rails and happily avoid the complications of the more advanced versions of “NAM”.) The entire complex, including the concrete retaining walls, is built from 1x1 modular lots surrounding a 1x5 lot for the train, itself. Another shot of the ”rail stop” showing the rail intersection. You can also get a good idea of what a heavily forested area looks like. I have tried to use “style” and color variations among the tree props to pick out individual trees, while making sure they are actually of different heights. Special 1x1 “Tree Filler” lots were created with overhanging trees to help fill in along the rail lines in general, and especially along diagonal sections of track. Just to take a moment to explain the location of this picture: To the right bottom is the small “rail stop” you saw in the previous picture – and below that would be the tug station, and below that, the Replenishment Docks. At the bottom of the picture is the dockside infrastructure of the destroyer berthing area. This is a purely “landscape” shot. Having failed to create the effect of beaches or slopes with the “Heblem Sands”, I was just about to give up when @MissVanleider posted her work on sand dunes using the “Poseidon Terrain Paint MOD”. Her tutorial turned out to be just the thing I was looking for. Here you see a combination of sand dunes and sandy cliff faces. It’s not the Dutch-style shoreline Miss Vanleider was working on, but windswept dunes are prevalent along the Dutch – and especially, the Danish coast – so I decided to work it into my forested landscape. I experimented with the sand dunes at the 7.5 meter height recommended by the tutorial, but the dunes didn’t seem to have enough “definition” for me. I raised the dune height to 15 meters and suddenly they seemed to jump right out of the picture. In this close-up, you can clearly see the dunes in the middle and a smaller hill in the foreground. They are framed by sandy cliff faces that merge into the surrounding forested areas. The “Poseidon brush” is very subtle, with a dense, sandy color in the center that fades toward the edges, allowing the underlying terrain to show through. This, alone, solves 50% of the problems of merging two distinctly different types of terrain. The texture of the “terrain brush” naturally highlights the hollows and valleys in the terrain, making the dune feature more prominent, but subtle. I have populated my dunes with trees, usually near the top, or down in the valleys between dunes. This feature is rarely seen in European settings, but is actually quite common along the inner shores of the North Carolina sounds. While it does not mesh with the low areas along the German Bight, it works wonderfully with the idea of forested shorelines I have created. The valleys and ravines between the dunes have a brownish, scrub-bush look (Girafe Seasonal Berry Bushes), with patches of small rocks and gravel to reflect washing from rainfall. There are numerous clumps of dead trees, since deep sand and trees do not mix well. You can also see small patches of dune grass sprinkled here and there. Part of the “art” of creating sand dunes is knowing when and exactly where to place brush and ground cover to accentuate the dune effect. Too much MMP-work will ruin sand dunes by blotting out the subtle shadows created by the terrain brush – leaving you with terrain that no longer looks like a sand dune – but blends together in an almost flat appearance. In this picture, I wanted to transition from the sandy cliff face into heavily forested hilly terrain. I could have simply blended the terrain, but decided some sort of actual feature would work better. I settled on a ravine which would actually accentuate the hills on either side. I have plopped considerably more vegetation – trees and bushes – since it borders on heavy forest. The bottom of the ravine has been littered with tangled brush and strewn with rocks and gravel washed down by rainfall. When the ravine reaches the flat ground below, the rocks and gravel fan out across the low ground much as the water might. NEXT TIME…… CUXHAVEN: THE PHOTO TOUR 02 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

A view of Von der Tann’s aft main battery turret. The work detail appears to be cleaning a canvas tarp – and some of them seem quite happy to have their picture taken -- circa 1912. IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: CUXHAVEN By: Dreadnought & AP Chapter 44: IN THE FINAL ANALYSIS The 2nd Battlecruiser Squadron of the Battlecruiser Fleet – HMAS Australia (flagship, Admiral Pakenham) leading, followed by HMS Indefatigable and HMS New Zealand – circa 1915. Possibly departing Cromarty for squadron training. COMPARISONS It should be remembered battlecruisers in both the Royal Navy and Kaiserliche Marine were born of the need to find a suitable replacement for armored cruisers. As a type, armored cruiser technology had reached its upper limit – they were no longer able to perform scouting duties when confronted by newer and more powerful opponents. In the Royal Navy, Admiral Jackie Fisher devised the Invincible Class battlecruisers based on the “Dreadnought Principle”. An all-big-gun cruiser with 12-inch guns and high speed – capable of overpowering any foreign cruisers, and their scouting or screening forces. The theory relied upon the battlecruiser being bigger, faster, and more powerfully armed than their opponent – and it worked well as demonstrated at the Battle of the Falkland Islands. The Imperial Navy tried to respond to this threat with SMS Blucher, but faulty intelligence led to an inadequate design. A second attempt to counter British battlecruisers, SMS Von der Tann, proved to be the template for an entire line of successful ships. The German line of development had a “structured” and logical approach, treating each successive ship as an incremental and progressive improvement upon the last – greater displacement, heavier armor, more guns, or greater speed. And it is worth noting, the German line of development began in 1907 and continued without significant interruption until the last months of 1917. The British line of development, though started earlier than the Germans, was impulsive and erratic -- suffering from slow-downs or interruptions when Parliament withheld funds -- or when the Admiralty chose battleships over battlecruisers. The more conservative members of the Board of Admiralty favored the steady and dependable battleship over Fisher’s fast and flashy battlecruisers. HMS Tiger was the last battlecruiser Fisher managed to get funded before his retirement in 1910, and no new battlecruisers were planned until he returned to the Admiralty in 1914. But Fisher’s fertile brain was the “erratic element” – fueled by whatever “brilliant” idea had captured his imagination. In the single year before he resigned from the Admiralty in 1915, Fisher ordered three battlecruiser classes totaling nine ships, of which – the two Renown’s were mediocre – the three Courageous Class useless – and the Admiralty Class was reduced to HMS Hood, a winner. SMS Von der Tann on the left – HMS Invincible on the right. Invincible was the first battlecruiser in the Royal Navy and was built on the modern “Dreadnought Principle”. At first glance, there was not much difference between them, but the difference could not be seen – the Imperial battlecruiser’s superb armor suite. Von der Tann was specifically designed to “take on” Fisher’s big “cruiser-killer” – and destroy it. Both models courtesy of "Barroco Hispano". In general, “development” was not so much a matter of “perfecting” something as it was building it “bigger, better, and meaner”. When details of Fisher’s Invincible Class became public, the Germans knew SMS Blucher was completely incapable of dealing with the new battlecruisers. Their immediate response was to design and build SMS Von der Tann – a “bigger, better, and meaner” ship. The German battlecruiser had a larger displacement, was slightly faster, and mounted guns of comparable size – with far superior armor protection. She was specifically engineered to destroy the Invincible’s. This “development” involved a 2,000 ton increase over Invincible, and nearly 4,000 tons over Blucher. In essence, the Anglo-German Naval Arms Race was not only in the number of ships built, but in the quality of the ships. Over the course of the decade-long battlecruiser competition, it quickly became painfully obvious the British would win the numbers race. By 1917, British battlecruisers outnumbered German battlecruisers 3 to 1. While the British built large numbers of ships, the Germans attempted to offset their lack of numbers by building each ship qualitatively superior to its British counterpart. Within that framework, the arms race produced progressively larger and more expensive warships based on the “tit for tat” competition -- with guns, armor, and speed being the driving factors. The British battlecruisers – envisioned by Fisher as large and powerful cruisers – became increasingly focused on big guns and high speed – at the expense of armor. The Germans, for a variety of reasons, opted for a more balanced approach – which enhanced their survival rate. Eventually, the Germans even came around to the idea of the fast-battleship. Had they not been overly constrained by political and financial restrictions, they would have done so much sooner. Fisher’s absolute obsession with speed could be said to have been THE driving factor – forcing both British and German designers to push length, power, and hull form to extreme limits. This single factor may, actually, have been the deciding factor in the growth of battlecruiser tonnage. Big guns were all well and good, but there was a limit to how many gun turrets could be placed on a “fast” ship. But when it came to speed, Fisher pushed, prodded, and badgered endlessly to get longer hulls to accommodate more and more boilers. But even Fisher was forced to admit there was a limit to length, beyond which, the contemporary science of naval architecture was unable to go. (The limit of 1916 technology was reached with HMS Hood – at 810 feet. The US Lexington Class battlecruisers were built to 850 feet, but they were converted into aircraft carriers on the builder’s slips and would never have to support the structural stresses of heavy armor.) SMS Moltke on left – HMS Indefatigable on right. Again, the deck layout is vaguely similar, with the exception of Moltke’s increased firepower aft. You’ll also notice Moltke is a bit wider in the beam. The extra width provided more structural strength, produced a more stable gun platform, and allowed for increased internal subdivision. Indefatigable is no more than a “stretched” Invincible with wider firing arcs and the same thin armor. HMS Indefatigable by "Barroco Hispano" -- SMS Moltke by "AP". Another aspect of speed has been largely overlooked by analysts and historians – speed trials. One of the crucial aspects of acceptance and commissioning a new warship involved running speed trials on a “measured mile course”. Unfortunately, the conditions under which the tests were held varied from navy to navy. The ship’s “displacement” is generally considered the weight of the ship when completely empty. The “full load displacement” is usually the weight of the ship plus a full fuel load, ammunition, fresh water, provisions, full crew, etc, etc. Most speed trials were not run under “full load” conditions, and each navy had its own trial weight standards. The British tended to run their speed trials in deep water with a minimum operating load. Invincible was rated at 24.5 knots on her “trials” – but her full “combat load” added 4,000 tons to her displacement. Under combat conditions, she would have struggled to maintain 24 knots (with a clean bottom). The Germans ran their speed trials in what they termed a “normal load” condition – which only increased by 1,500 tons for a full “combat load”. Even though a heavier load was carried, they invariably exceeded their designed speed. There was also a second factor to be considered. The British ran their trials in deep water. The ship’s hull performs more smoothly in deep water, and the propellers achieve maximum efficiency. (It has to do with ocean dynamics and interference caused by wave action over a shallow seabed.) This further indicates the British trial readings were accurate, but their “trial load” was too light – producing an inflated trial speed. The German “measured mile” courses were all in shallow water -- so their readings were effected by ocean dynamics -- and were invariably slower than the speed the ships could achieve in deeper water. Modern naval architects have calculated the “shallow water effect” and determined a correction factor of 1.5 knots should be applied to obtain accurate speed figures. For example: Von der Tann was rated at 27.4 knots, the correction factor would make her top speed 28.9 knots. It should also be noted British battlecruisers were frequently operated under combat conditions at full power, while German battlecruisers were not. The only “certifiable” instance of an Imperial battlecruiser operating in contact with the enemy at “utmost speed”, was SMS Goeben, in the Mediterranean – and she “showed a clean pair of heels” to her pursuers. SMS Seydlitz was the fourth, and last, of the original battlecruisers designed with cross-deck-firing wing turrets – she was also, by far, the most powerful of the quartet. While still armed with 11-inch guns, she was faster than her predecessors, and her armor suite and internal subdivision was vastly improved. She suffered 24 heavy shell hits, two medium hits, and a 21-inch torpedo at Jutland and survived to reach the Jade. Seydlitz was, arguably, the toughest warship built in the 20th Century. SMS Seydlitz on left – HMS Lion on right. This shows the British adopting the “big guns on the centreline” arrangement – though Lion’s stern turrets are widely separated by below decks machinery spaces. The British have also adopted the 13.5-inch gun over the old 12-inch rifle. Seydlitz still has a ten-gun, 11-inch, broadside to the British eight guns – but, theoretically, the larger British guns offset this advantage. However, Lion’s armor was sadly deficient. HMS Lion by "Barroco Hispano" -- SMS Seydlitz by "AP". As naval technology advanced, the placement of main battery turrets became another factor contributing to the increasing size of warships. A practice common to early battlecruiser designs in both navies was the placement of echeloned wing turrets amidships. This allowed four twin turrets to be placed on a warship in the shortest possible length. But in British battlecruisers, the Invincible and Indefatigable Classes, the arrangement had drawbacks – deck houses and superstructure narrowed the midships firing arcs, and cross-deck firing caused blast damage to deck plates, teak planking, and nearby fittings and superstructure. German designers solved some of these problems by spacing their wing turrets farther apart, strengthening the deck plates in blast zones, and custom-designing deck structures to open up the firing arcs. In the Moltke and Seydlitz Classes they increased the hull length and even squeezed-in a fifth superimposed twin turret aft. The goal was to provide at least eight guns in broadside fire. As superimposed turrets became more trusted, designers began placing all main battery turrets on the centreline. The British began the practice with HMS Lion in 1912, and the Germans followed with SMS Derfflinger in 1914 – but both navies superimposed the forward turrets, while separating the stern turrets with below decks machinery spaces. This design opened up all the firing arcs for the main guns and removed the problems involved with cross-deck firing. With the design of HMS Hood, the British used superfiring turrets both fore and aft, while the Germans had already used them in the Bayern Class battleships of 1916 (she was slower and required less space for machinery). But the movement of Hood’s main battery turrets to the centreline required lengthening the hull, thereby further increasing the size and tonnage. Fisher’s mania for speed had other adverse effects. The increased number of boilers required for high speed automatically required a longer hull, but existing British docks and basins would not accommodate a ship with a beam greater than 90 feet. As Fisher added boilers, ship designs got longer, but remained narrow – their length-to-beam-ratio increased. The longer the hull becomes without increasing beam width, the hull structure becomes unsound and “hogging” may occur (the ends of the ship droop down). The Invincible Class had a length-to-width ration of 7.15 to 1, and it increased to 8.77 to 1 in the Renown Class. The Imperial Navy was also restricted – by the width of the entrance locks to Wilhelmshaven harbor – some 100 feet. The Germans designed their ships to take advantage of the extra space. Their length-to-width ratio was 6.45 to 1 in Von der Tann and 7.49 to 1 in the Ersatz Yorck Class. The wider beam made the hull structure stronger and more rigid, provided a stable gun platform, allowed better placement of internal machinery, and accommodated additional internal subdivision. In a neat twist, Germans designers were able to increase their boiler-power (speed) without undue lengthening of the hull – they custom-built larger boilers to fit the available space, rather than making the space larger to fit more boilers. (Regarding internal subdivision: German warships invariably had a larger number of watertight bulkheads, and their most modern capital ships were designed with six engine rooms and six boiler rooms. British battlecruisers had only three engine rooms and three boiler rooms – a dangerous lack of redundancy in battle.) A British delegation hosted by Tsar Nicholas II aboard the Royal yacht “Standart” – circa 1909. The British sent the occasional military mission to France and Russia to keep the “Entente Cordiale” alive. The officer conferring with the Tsar is the First Sea Lord of the British Admiralty, Admiral of the Fleet John Arbuthnot “Jackie” Fisher. Fisher left his chestful of medals at home, and is lecturing the Tsar in rather, subdued, but well-tailored formal attire. One thing universally agreed upon by historians and analysts is that Imperial battlecruisers were better protected than their British counterparts. How this imbalance was permitted to occur is entirely due to a faulty operational philosophy, and its flawed application at the tactical level. FISHER’S OPERATIONAL CONCEPT: Jackie Fisher conceived the battlecruiser, operationally, as nothing more than a “large” scouting cruiser. From the first, it was based on the “all-big-gun” principle (12-inch guns) so it could kill any cruiser it came up against. And he installed steam turbines so it would have the speed to chase and run down any enemy cruiser. This great speed was also to be used to disengage when it came into contact with a more powerful enemy (a battleship). Fisher always intended his “large cruiser” to seek out the enemy battle fleet, cut its way through the enemy screening cruisers, and report back on the enemy’s position, course, speed, and force composition. His cruisers would maintain contact with the enemy, sending regular sighting reports, but staying out of range of the enemy’s big guns. Alternatively, Fisher’s battlecruisers could engage the enemy screening forces and lure their fleet toward the British battle line. In essence, the British battlecruiser was to operate just like any other scouting cruiser. The difference was simple – Fisher’s “large cruisers” would be powerful enough to destroy or scatter the enemy cruiser screens. The cruisers in commission in 1907 could not do that. Of course, the plan would not be quite that simple once the enemy built their own battlecruisers. And Fisher overlooked the most obvious flaw in the plan – human nature. BRITISH TACTICAL APPLICATION: The first flaw in Fisher’s philosophy was of his own making. Very much like von Tirpitz’ line of reasoning, he wanted his “big cruisers” to fight other cruisers – and avoid battleships. It sounded logical on paper – but it was simply not realistic. In the smoke and confusion of a fleet engagement, it was inevitable his battlecruisers would stumble into a flock of angry battleships – and usually at short range! Even if they tried to use their speed to get away – it might only require excellent German marksmanship and three well-placed salvos to sink a thin-skinned battlecruiser. So the first flaw was relying on speed, rather than armor, to protect his battlecruisers. The second flaw was a matter of tactical application of the battlecruiser. The “Old Salts” on the Board Of Admiralty had been trying to assemble a tactical “fast-wing” of the battle Fleet for years (sort of like heavy cavalry on a battlefield). But they had never been able to get the proper ship to pull off the job. When Fisher handed them a big, fast, cruiser with battleship guns – they thought they’d died and gone to Heaven, and the idea was reborn anew. A fleet commander would be able to use these fast, heavily armed cruisers to exert pressure on an enemy’s battle line – possibly break his formation, or “cross his T”. Dreams of “grand tactical maneuvering” danced in their heads. Unfortunately, this tactical concept would throw the lightly armored battlecruisers right into the path of their only known predator – the battleship. The third and final flaw was also the most impossible to control – human nature. The Royal Navy captains of the Edwardian Era had been raised at their Nanny’s knee on stories of Drake, Frobisher, and above all – Nelson. They were trained to attack – no matter the odds – and “lay their ship alongside that of the enemy”. An Admiral commanding a squadron of battlecruisers with 12-inch guns would not hesitate to engage the enemy at the first opportunity – battleships or otherwise. Not only was it his duty – it was practically written into his personal code of honor. (You might even say it was written into his DNA!) If proof of eagerness is needed – just remember Beatty dashing about the North Sea with his battlecruisers – desperate to find some Germans to shoot at. A British Admiral would hurl his battlecruisers at the enemy like a javelin – never mind there was only 6-9 inches of armor plate between him and Eternity. In the end, British battlecruisers had many flaws. Their vaunted speed was not always as great as the German’s, and in battle, they actually achieved a good deal less than one is led to believe. But Fisher’s choice to sacrifice armor for speed was the fatal flaw. SMS Derfflinger on the left – HMS Tiger on the right. Both ships were commissioned within a month of each other in the latter half of 1914. Both ships could be said to be the best battlecruisers commissioned into their respective fleets. Derfflinger is flush-decked, slightly wider in the beam, and now mounts a more powerful 12-inch main battery – all on the centreline. The Derfflinger Class ships were also the most heavily armored of all the Imperial battlecruisers. Though evenly matched in speed, and theoretically closely matched in firepower, Tiger’s armor scheme is insufficient to deal with German gunfire. Models by "Barroco Hispano". In Germany, State Secretary von Tirpitz initially took the same approach as Fisher – cruisers should only fight cruisers. But “reality” gradually reared its ugly head. Since Imperial Germany had fewer dreadnought battleships than Great Britain, the Kaiser insisted it would be necessary for battlecruisers to fight in the battle line. To fill the roll of a cruiser, the battlecruiser had to have high speed, or there was no reason for it to exist. It had to have big guns, or it would be toothless. And German thoroughness and logic dictated something vital to the battle line must be protected – so it would be armored. Unlike the British, the German naval architects would sacrifice neither guns, speed, nor armor – they would innovate and compromise. To obtain speed, they experimented with steam turbines and innovated with custom-designed boilers. They carefully crafted their designs to incorporate a “minimalist” superstructure, and the largest possible gun battery, with the widest possible firing arcs. But armor was where they excelled. They designed their waterline belt armor to resist whatever gun the British mounted. As the British increased their gun caliber – the Germans increased their belt armor. The armor suite of a German battlecruiser was meticulously calculated, placed and replaced through trial and error, and distributed around the ship in minute detail. The result was a magnificently complex and comprehensive armoring scheme. German warships invariably had a thicker armor belt – the citadel armor exceeded the thickness and area coverage of any foreign navy -- their turret armor and barbettes were generally stronger than the British – and the conning towers were far heavier than the English. But one element effected survivability more than any other – internal subdivision. Like protective coal bunkers, subdivision was not unique to the Kaiserliche Marine, but it was more extensive than that found in any other navy. German designers invariably fitted more transverse watertight bulkheads in their battlecruisers than other nations, and the degree of compartment subdivision between the bulkheads was leaps and bounds ahead of other warships. Many features – such as longitudinal bulkheads between boiler rooms – did not even exist in the Royal Navy. The only real weak spot in the armor scheme turned out to be the lightly armored ends of the ship. And though it doomed SMS Lutzow – the internal subdivision, extraordinary damage control procedures, and intensive training of the crews, saved SMS Seydlitz and Derfflinger. A critical element of the British and German battlecruisers were their main battery guns. The British started with the BL 12-inch Mk X-L/45 gun -- already the main armament of their dreadnought battleships. In 1912, the Lion Class battlecruiser were armed with the BL 13.5-inch Mk V-L/45 gun, brought into service for the new Orion Class battleships. It was a superior weapon with longer range and increased hitting power. This was followed by the introduction of the BL 15-inch Mk V-L/42 gun, specifically designed to arm the new Queen Elizabeth Class fast-battleships. This was the most successful gun ever developed for the Royal Navy, with an extreme range of 33,550 yards and a shell weight of 1,938 pounds. At the Battle of Jutland it would prove to be the most destructive gun yet seen in naval combat and would continue as a potent weapon throughout WW II. There were several reasons for the British to continually upgrade their big guns, but the motivating reason was, again, Admiral Fisher. Right next to his obsession to have the fastest cruiser – was his desire to arm it with the biggest guns science and Vickers, Ltd could devise…...”We must have the fastest ship with the biggest guns!” Like some of his extreme battlecruiser designs, he even ordered the development of an 18-inch weapon, which was largely useless -- considering the state of the 1914-1918 fire control systems. But there were valid reasons for developing bigger guns. A bigger gun provided distinct advantages – (1) It allowed the firing ship to engage a target at a longer distance, perhaps even beyond enemy gun range – (2) German warships were known to carry a heavy torpedo armament, bigger guns could engage outside torpedo range – (3) A bigger shell carried a larger and far more destructive bursting charge. The damage caused by the British 15-inch gun at Jutland was simply phenomenal. SMS Von der Tann at anchor – circa 1914. The first Imperial battlecruiser, Von der Tann, was equipped with the 11-inch SK-L/45 gun – the same one used on the first dreadnought battleships built for the Kaiserliche Marine (Westfalen Class). The Moltke and Seydlitz Classes would mount an improved 11-inch SK-L/50 rifle. In that respect, von Tirpitz armed his battlecruisers with the same gun used on the Imperial battleships – just as Fisher had done. And, in retrospect, it was an acceptable choice. The 11-inch Krupp rifle was quite capable of dealing with the British Invincible and Indefatigable Class battlecruisers – and could hold its own with the Lion’s as well. The gun had a higher rate of fire than the British, was extremely accurate, and was more than capable of penetrating the British armor – it would deliver fast and accurate salvo fire. But it was not as destructive as the 12-inch rifle Krupp was proof-firing at the time. The bigger gun would have kept Tirpitz “even” with his opponent. For the political, financial, and “policy” reasons we have already discussed – Tirpitz willingly accepted second place in the gun competition, and built four under-gunned battlecruisers. Only in 1914 would the Derfflinger Class mount the 12-inch SK-L/50 rifle. The German 12-inch was, in many respects, superior to the British 13.5-inch – a higher rate of fire – comparable range – and much improved accuracy. As a 50-caliber weapon, the 12-inch gun barrels were five feet longer – imparting higher velocity and accuracy, -- allowing a somewhat lower firing trajectory (you didn’t have to elevate the gun barrels quite so high to reach the target) -- and the shell landed on target with much greater penetrating force. The down-side was – the British shell was nearly 500 pounds heavier with a larger destructive force. The Imperial Navy would eventually design battlecruisers with 14-inch and 15-inch guns – but none of them were ever commissioned. For various debatable reasons, the German battlecruisers would fight The Great War with naval rifles one step behind the British. The disadvantages of mounting a smaller gun than your enemy are obvious, but the Imperial Navy managed to offset this to some degree with higher quality guns, better manufactured shells, better ammunition handling procedures, a more effective ranging and fire control system, higher rates of fire, and far superior gunnery skills. The Hochseeflotte had many advantages over the British, but when a German shell struck the target, it simply did not have the destructive force of the British shells. It is worth theorizing how different Jutland might have been if Vonn der Tann, Moltke, and Seydlitz had been armed with the Krupp 12-inch rifle. And – it becomes even more interesting if you imagine Derfflinger and Lutzow mounting the 15-inch gun Krupp developed in 1912. SMS Seydlitz at anchor in Schillig Roads – circa 1913. The one great advantage the British had over the Kaiserliche Marine was their numerous construction yards and seemingly endless capacity to boost construction at will. Not only could the English build more -- but they could build faster. With the advent of HMS Dreadnought, English shipyards went into high gear. The fact that Dreadnought instantly made all previous capital ships obsolete, was a virtual “green light” to builder’s yards. They knew as soon as they could launch a battleship hull, they would be able to get another contract for that slipway. In fact, their speed of construction actually increased after 1905. In Germany, it was not at all that easy. Prior to the passage of the First Naval Law in 1897, it was purely a “hit or miss” affair to get any ship funded in any given year. The Reichstag was not exactly what you would call a “free-spending lot”, and they were even less inclined to spend money on the Navy. Even with the Naval Law in place they were reluctant to vote money and would haggle over the price. (J.P. Morgan once said, about the cost of operating a yacht...”If you have to ask – you cannot afford it.”) Just for the record, the battlecruiser building cost per ton – allowing for money conversion rates – was usually within a Pound or two of each other in both Britain and Germany. That changed with the much-improved Derfflinger Class. HMS Lion – her opposite number – cost 78 English Pounds per ton, while Derfflinger rose to 107 Pounds per ton (economic inflation). Hand-in-hand with the availability of funds is the actual speed of construction. I excluded HMS Hood from these particular calculations because she was not finished until 1920 and had no effect on the events in question. In Britain, the average time for construction of a battlecruiser was 27 months from keel-laying to commissioning. The shortest building time was for HMS Repulse at 19 months from John Brown & Co, Scotland. In Germany, things were not so good. The average building time in German yards was thrown off by wartime manpower shortages, high demand for precision equipment (guns and fabricated steel plate), and scarce resources allocated to U-Boat construction. This resulted in the considerably higher average construction time of 35.8 months per battlecruiser. Even in peacetime the length of construction was considerably longer than that of the British – to such a degree that it came to the attention of His Majesty, The Kaiser. In 1910, Wilhelm II sent out memorandum urging an acceleration of the building and fitting-out processes. At that time, German construction yards normally took three years to build a large capital ship, plus six months to a year to conduct her “trials” and “work-up” the crew. The Kaiser suggested a more suitable arrangement would be two years for construction with a one year trial period. Though this sounds reasonable – it failed to take into account processes beyond the control of the builder’s yard. Most of the private companies involved in supplying parts and materials for the battlecruisers were willing to adapt to the shortened schedule. But the two most essential suppliers – Krupp Werk and Dillinger Hutte Fabrik -- were unable to comply. The big rifles supplied by Krupp could be ordered far enough ahead to be ready, but the face-hardened nickel-steel plates for the armor belts and bulkheads was another matter. The armor suite had to be custom-fitted to the hull and the manufacturing process could not begin until the design department completed the builder’s drawings. Only then could they begin the lengthy process of casting, hammering, rolling, punching bolt holes, re-heating, and face-hardening each individual plate. Krupp produced the finest armor plate in the world – but the reheating and face-hardening process, alone, took three weeks – and it required 39 months to deliver Derfflinger’s armor plate. Dillinger Hutte had been in business since 1808, but two battleships and a battlecruiser (per year) required most of their production capacity to turn out the masses of mild steel needed for inner hull platting, interior decks, and subdivision. Cutting a year off the delivery time would be impossible. There was also the financial aspects of reducing construction time, and as usual, there were numerous conflicts. German construction costs were distributed over a four year period, and changing over to a three-year cycle would require an initial budget increase of 25 million Marks. This would create a conflict with the Chancellor, who would probably have to increase taxes to cover it -- and the Reichstag would instinctively try to block the funding. SMS Moltke during speed trials in the Mecklenburg Bight. Having hit a brick wall with that idea, Wilhelm approached the problem from a different angle – asking why it took so long after his approval for the keels to be laid. On firm ground, the Kaiser cited the 12 months it took to lay down the keels for both Seydlitz and Derfflinger. Admiral von Tirpitz justified the delays because the shipyards needed to launch the hull they were finishing, clear the slipway debris, and begin accumulating materials for the next keel-laying. He further explained the British avoided these delays with their three-year distribution of funds. The English builders were in a hurry to clear their slipways because – (1) the second payment of funds was released as soon as the ship was launched – and (2) there was always another contract waiting for a slipway. The German Naval Laws were set up with the four-year system, and the final payment was not appropriated by the Reichstag until the fourth year. In Germany, it was in the best interests of the builder to keep his work gangs employed as long as possible, because new contracts were few and far between – and strictly regulated. In a contract-rich environment, the English employed up to 3,000 workmen on the building slips. In Germany, where contracts were scarce and building costs higher, only about 1,000 workmen were employed. But – there was an exception to every rule. As a matter of record – the Blohm & Voss Yards delivered both SMS Von der Tann and Seydlitz within 30 months. They hold the record for the fastest dreadnought capital ship construction in Imperial Germany. They were expert craftsmen in the construction of battlecruisers, and there was always a contract waiting for their attention. Blohm & Voss was a busy and profitable shipyard – they could afford to wait for the Reichstag to pay the bill. SMS Derfflinger at anchor in Schillig Roads, photographed from a Zeppelin – circa 1917. Finally, we come to the construction delays that could be attributed directly to the Reichsmarineamt, itself. Within weeks of a battlecruiser keel being laid, the design discussions for the next ship started. As you have seen in preceding chapters, the discussions went on for months – back and forth – and back, again. There were always diverging views among the staff of the RMA. They held too many meetings and wasted time preparing numerous rough designs and calculations before rejecting most of them out of hand. Eventually, Tirpitz ran out of time and was finally forced to make a decision. It could easily take a year and a half to get the design to the point where the Kaiser could approve it. In England, things weren’t that complicated. Admiral Fisher sent a memorandum to his hand-picked Chief Naval Constructor at H.M. Dockyard Portsmouth, giving details of what he wanted – speed, guns, minimal armor, etc, etc. Within a month, Fisher would have in hand a complete set of rough sketch plans – to include weight calculations and a cost breakdown. All Fisher had to do was call a meeting and “sell” it to the Board of Admiralty – and his high-pressure sales tactics usually overrode all opposition. With the Board’s approval, a tender for contract bidding was sent out to all shipyards while the final drawings were prepared. If Fisher got out of bed on 1 March and wanted a ship built, he could have the keel laid by 1 June. It was that simple – remarkably little “red tape” – and certainly no endless “round-table-discussions” about what to build. If the “Tirpitz Round Table” was not bad enough, there was one more bottleneck – this one in the Construction Department of the Reichsmarineamt. Under the Naval Laws, the Kaiserliche Marine was scheduled to lay down two battleships and one “large cruiser” per construction year. There were adjustments to the construction schedule from time to time – usually when the British Parliament released their own annual Naval Estimates to the Press. The point, however, was the heavy work load placed on the designers, engineers, and draftsmen of the Construction Department. It was their responsibility to simultaneously produce a design for a battleship and a battlecruiser – both of which had to work their way through Tirpitz’ tortured planning process. Every design meeting was followed by a flurry of demands for three or four more design sketches, all with weight and cost estimates. The Design Section worked long hours and was always behind schedule because they kept designing and redesigning the same ship. By the time a final design was settled upon, they were usually late getting the drawings to the builder, the gun works, and the armor manufacturer, among others. The Reichsmarineamt could have solved a lot of their problems by putting an ambitious young officer in charge of streamlining the design process, while simply hiring two dozen draftsmen. Overcoming the built-in handicap of the four-year building cycle would have been a bit more difficult since it involved the Reichstag. But the real stumbling block to accelerating the building process was the inability of Krupp and Dillinger Hutte to deliver the required armor in a timely fashion. With no possibility of significantly increasing armor production, the Hochseeflotte would steam into battle at Jutland outnumbered by nearly 2 to 1 in both battleships and battlecruisers. HMS Princess Royal, “slow ahead” off H.M. Dockyard Rosyth – circa April 1916. PERFORMANCE IN BATTLE – “Where the rubber meets the road”. The Imperial battlecruisers took a long time to build, and even longer to design – but when they steamed into battle, outnumbered and under-gunned, they proved their worth. The British Invincible’s took the applause early by destroying the two Scharnhorst Class armored cruisers off the Falkland Islands, but this led to false confidence in their abilities. During the war these early battlecruisers (Invincible and Indefatigable Classes) did not fare well under 11-inch and 12-inch gunfire, or mines, for that matter. At Jutland, SMS Von der Tann sank HMS Indefatigable in a fourteen-minute gun duel, and carried on unharmed. A little later, SMS Lutzow and Derfflinger disposed of HMS Invincible with two well-aimed salvos. Von der Tann had been designed to sink the Invincible Class battlecruisers, and she proved to be the better fighting battlecruiser. SMS Moltke fought well against HMS Lion and Tiger at Dogger Bank and held her own during Jutland – coming home as the lest damaged of the Panzerkreuzer. SMS Goeben never got the chance to test her mettle against the British, but she showed them her speed in the Mediterranean, and later withstood mine damage that would have sunk a lesser ship. SMS Seydlitz went “toe-to-toe” at Dogger Bank, suffering heavy damage – and helped SMS Derfflinger dispose of HMS Queen Mary at Jutland. But she suffered terribly under the 15-inch guns of the British 5th Battle Squadron and took one torpedo. She barely managed to make Wilhelmshaven – more sunk than afloat. At Dogger bank, SMS Derfflinger exchanged fire with HMS Lion, Tiger, and Princess Royal – sustaining little damage even though hit numerous times with 13.5-inch gunfire. Derfflinger assisted in sinking Queen Mary at Jutland and absorbed considerable numbers of 12-inch and 15-inch shells – with a lesser degree of damage than Seydlitz. SMS Lutzow’s performance at Jutland was magnificent! She led the battle line well into the early evening and was often simultaneously engaged with as many a five battleships and battlecruisers. Her gunnery was quick and remarkably accurate – quite possibly the best “hit ratio” of any ship in either fleet. She scored 12 hits on HMS Lion, alone, and joined with Derfflinger to sink HMS Invincible. Unfortunately, Lutzow took several 12-inch shells in the bow, below the armor belt, and her pumps were unable to cope with the flooding. Had the armor been a bit thicker, and reached a bit deeper, she might have survived – but cost-cutting and skimpy bow armor doomed her. On the other side, HMS Lion was mauled at Dogger Bank and even more heavily pounded at Jutland. She barely escaped sinking, proving her armor was not proof against German 11-inch and 12-inch gunfire. HMS Princess Royal received two hits early on at Jutland, and her “A” turret went out of action due to mechanical failure. She was extensively damaged by seven more hits (six by Derfflinger), with her main fire control knocked out, “X” turret disabled, the aft engine room casings damaged, and raging fires that were only put out with great difficulty. HMS Tiger (the last of “The Splendid Cats”) was also knocked-about quite badly, and though her gunnery was abysmal, her only significant damage was the loss of “Q” turret. Looks to me like one “fresh” German battlecruiser could have...“bagged the lot of ‘em”. HMS Queen Mary moored to a buoy in the Cromarty anchorage, as she might have appeared at Jutland. Battlecruiser courtesy of @Barroco Hispano. The mooring buoy, boat boom, and small boats by @AP. CONCLUSIONS -- ?? The Imperial German battlecruisers were undoubtedly better designed than their British opposite numbers. And the clash at Jutland clearly demonstrated their superior fighting capabilities. Analysts have put this superiority down to six primary reasons: (1) innovations in hull design, engines, and boilers, which saved considerable weight – thereby making more weight available for defensive protection – (2) a comprehensive and carefully distributed armor scheme – (3) a much more extensive use of internal subdivision than any other navy – (4) better quality propellant charges that did not burn if a fire occurred – (5) a more efficient and precise fire control system – and (6) far superior gunnery skills. One serious concern about the Imperial German battlecruisers was their smaller gun caliber, which meant they simply did not punch as hard as they could have. Another, and more serious concern, was their weak bow armor, which risked the potential for so much damage forward it would overwhelm the pumping and drainage systems. This exact sort of battle damage at Jutland threatened SMS Derfflinger, seriously threatened Seydlitz, and sank Lutzow. In simple, unconditional terms, any of the Imperial battlecruisers would likely have proven superior in a one-on-one encounter with any British counterpart. The German’s speed would have been equal, or a little faster than, her opponent. German armor and subdivision was far superior. And the faster rate of fire and superb marksmanship of the Panzerkreuzer would have offset the smaller gun caliber. But by the time of The Great War, single-ship combats between capital ships were no longer in vogue. Even when detached from the fleet for special duty, British battlecruisers invariably traveled in “pairs” – or more. Great Britain’s greatest single advantage was her capability to design, build, deploy, and operate a total of 14 battlecruisers between 1908 and 1918 (HMS Invincible to HMS Courageous). For the various reasons already discussed, Imperial Germany never managed to commission more than seven battlecruisers. Britain’s second great advantage over Germany was her ability to recover after battle. Jutland cost the British three battlecruisers, while Germany lost only one – but two months after the battle, Beatty could put to sea with seven combat-ready battlecruisers – Germany had only one. Simply put – “quantity” trumped “quality”. Finally, the above conclusions have to be taken in the context of the design and construction processes of both nations. Britain’s battlecruiser program was driven by the erratic genius of Jackie Fisher – occasionally constrained by the Chancellor of the Exchequer – and the results are clear. The three Invincible Class were revolutionary, but marred by Fisher’s mania for speed and complete disregard for armor. They were countered in Germany with SMS Von der Tann. The three Indefatigable’s were grudgingly funded, but Fisher was in a hurry and they were mere repeats of the Invincible’s – a bit longer, but with the same flaws – and no additional armor. The Germans countered them with SMS Moltke and Goeben. The Lion Class were a distinct improvement over the Indefatigable Class, with larger 13.5-inch guns all mounted on the centreline – but their armor was still weak compared to German standards. The Germans countered with SMS Seydlitz. HMS Tiger was the last battlecruiser commissioned before Jutland, and her design was greatly improved over the Lion Class – though her coal consumption was all out of proportion to her speed, and her armor remained the same as Lion. The German response to Tiger was the Derfflinger Class. The later Renown Class was not an improvement on Tiger. Even though they sported six 15-inch guns, and could turn 32 knots, their armor was only 6 inches on the belt. (The Courageous Class ships have always been universally judged to be of dubious value.) While the British battlecruiser program was driven by the whims of Fisher and his misbegotten armoring philosophy, the German program – ponderous as it might be – produced infinitely better results. The German approach has often been referred to as “slow”, but I prefer to think of it as “careful”. Each new design built upon the good qualities of the previous ship with incremental improvements and calculated adjustments. The design staff was able to build upon successful ideas and maintain continuity from ship to ship, rather than wasting time and limited resources chasing faulty concepts. This produced a string of homogeneous ships – each one better than the last – based on a balanced combination of speed, armor, and firepower. SMS Von der Tann was a good, solid, design – and she proved more than capable of dealing with the British Invincible and Indefatigable Classes. Moltke and Goeben improved on that design with more speed and armor, and added a fifth main battery turret. SMS Seydlitz was a “stop-gap” ship. By all the graces of a more generous God, she would have been armed with 12-inch guns, but her speed was slightly faster than Moltke, and her armor was improved. And in the end, she not only exhibited excellent marksmanship, but proved to be tougher than any other capital ship at Jutland. The Derfflinger Class was a dramatic departure from previous Imperial battlecruisers. She was the first to mount 12-inch rifles, and the first to have all four of her twin turrets mounted on the centreline. The Derfflinger’s were fast and powerful ships with main armor belts of 12-inches. It has been said they were the most handsome ships ever built, and are widely considered to be the finest warships built during The Great War Era. SMS Derfflinger at speed -- circa 1914. Battlecruisers were, and are, the most captivating warships ever built. Their existence as a warship type was brief – approximately ten years between 1908 and 1918 – and they embodied the best that technological innovation had to offer. Often larger than the battleships they scouted for, the big cruisers were the single most mechanically complex moving objects modern science could devise. Their size, speed, and massive guns – their sheer awesome presence – contributed to their allure. The long, sleek hulls rode gracefully at anchor – or took tons of water over their bows as they raced into battle with thick clouds of smoke trailing astern. Those same slim hulls trembled like a small earthquake when the huge rifles roared and sent their deadly payloads toward the enemy line. And during their years of development and splendor, the battlecruisers of the Imperial German Navy stood second to none. The true test of any warship is its’ performance in combat – and the Imperial battlecruisers always fulfilled their duty while performing far beyond expectation. The courage and valor of the battlecruiser crews was beyond dispute, and they were not only confident, but proud – of their ships and their Squadron Commander – Admiral Franz von Hipper. Hipper treated his men well, saw to their needs, and trained them to a high degree of proficiency. The gunnery scores of the ships in the 1st Scouting Group were invariably among the highest in the fleet. The North Sea engagements against the British showed the Imperial battlecruisers to be deadly opponents – though well-handled, they were frequently outnumbered. Admiral Hipper was a “sailor’s sailor” and a “thinking” officer – a superb tactician. He took pleasure in having large capital ships he could handle like fast cruisers – and knew how to get the most out of his ships. Within months of war breaking out, the Imperial battlecruisers quickly became the primary offensive arm of the Hochseeflotte. During the early skirmishes in the North Sea, the Panzerkreuzer acquitted themselves well – even when outnumbered and nearly trapped at the Battle of Dogger Bank. Their excellent shooting came very close to sinking HMS Lion on that occasion. When the opposing fleets met at the Battle of Jutland, Hipper’s ships again carried the burden of action. The German battlecruisers were outnumbered and heavily engaged during “The Run To The South” and “The Run To The North”, before the battle fleets met. During the main encounter the German battlecruisers continued to engage their British counterparts as well as becoming heavily involved with the battleships of the Grand Fleet. It should be noted the British Battlecruiser Fleet lost three of their number to Hipper’s gunnery, while their remaining battlecruisers were handled rather roughly. But – at no time were the British battlecruisers seriously engaged by the German battle fleet. Hipper’s performance at Jutland was flawless, and he handled his ships as a duelist might wield a fine Toledo rapier. He unhesitatingly offered battle to Beatty – knowing he was outnumbered -- and then hung onto his enemy like a bulldog. He kept tight control over his squadron while they delivered fast and accurate salvos on their targets, and he never lost sight of his duty to screen Scheer’s battle fleet. In the end, Hipper lost his flagship (SMS Lutzow) to overwhelming enemy gunfire, but his ships and crews fought with skill and tenacity, and covered themselves in Glory. The Age of the Dreadnought – and certainly the Battle of Jutland -- produced no admiral more able than Franz von Hipper, and the German Navy never produced a greater commander. It is, to some degree, miraculous that the finest commander on either side should have commanded the finest warships in either navy. After the loss of three British battlecruisers at Jutland, the ship type fell out of favor with other navies and was replaced two decades later with a more technologically advanced version of the “fast-battleship”. But the Imperial battlecruisers were much sought-after in their day – sailors wanted to serve in them and Kapitans wanted to command them. They were, indeed, the finest warships ever built -- and it is only fitting they have gone down in Legend. The guns fell silent at Jutland as Scheer’s battle line disappeared into the smoke and gathering darkness, and the Imperial Panzerkreuzer – battered and bloodied – did the same. At that point, the battle was, for all intents and purposes – over. But -- if you have read this entire series, your mind should be swirling with questions – and even ideas. The Nobel Prize winning author William Faulkner published the novel “Intruder In The Dust” in 1948, and among some of the most quoted prose, is this bit I have edited for brevity…… “For every Southern boy fourteen years old...there is the instant when it’s not yet two o’clock on that July afternoon in 1863, the brigades are in position...the guns are laid...and the furled flags are loosened to break out...Pickett...waiting for Longstreet to give the word...and it’s all in the balance, it hasn’t happened yet…...” That “word picture” captures the moment before “the charge” on the third day at Gettysburg. It is not about what happened – but what was about to happen – and all the “possibilities” that still existed in those few moments. The less “romantic” among us would call it a “what if” scenario. “What if”...things had been different? Amateur strategists and military men have, for centuries, used wargames to recreate the great battles of history – to see how things actually happened – or how they might have happened differently. Authors have written entire novels of what is termed “ALTERNATIVE History”. Now I have a few things for you to ponder…… (1) If the Admiralstab had pushed SMS Hindenburg’s construction to an early completion -- she would have led Hipper’s battlecruiser line. Would she have made a difference? (2) What if all three Derfflinger Class were present at Jutland – and armed with 15-inch guns? (3) What if SMS Von der Tann, Moltke, and Seydlitz had been armed with 12-inch guns instead of 11-inch weapons? (4) And the “Million Dollar Question”…...What if the Germans had “streamlined” their construction in 1910? Would two Mackensen Class battlecruisers have made a difference? Don’t get too carried-away with the “fantasy” – but it is interesting to think it over. In all probability, if the Germans had won at Jutland – they would still have lost the land war. But for me, it will always be 02:00 on Wednesday 31 May, 1916. Vizeadmiral Franz von Hipper stands motionless on the bridge in a driving rain...the signal lamps flash back along the line of hulking battlecruisers...the mighty turbines roar to life...and Lutzow increases to 18 knots, leading the way to the open sea... SMS Lutzow at speed -- circa 1916. NEXT TIME…… CUXHAVEN: THE PHOTO TOUR BEGINS 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

Laid down in 1912 for the Imperial Russian Navy, the Borodino Class battlecruisers would have been contemporaries of the Ersatz Yorck Class. At 32,500 tons, with twelve 14-inch guns, the Borodino’s were slower and considerably less well armored than the German ships, but could have been formidable opponents. Borodino (seen here on the builder’s slip) was eventually launched, but the October Revolution of 1917 put an end to her construction, and she was finally scrapped in 1931. IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: CUXHAVEN By: Dreadnought & AP Chapter 43: THE PIPE DREAMS “Pipe Dream”…...“A fantastic notion or vain hope”. In the early 20th Century, it was often said such fanciful dreams were “born in the bowl of an Opium pipe”. GROSSE KREUZER - 1915 Three weeks after the keel was laid for SMS Mackensen, and the details had been settled for her three sister-ships, the topic of discussion turned to the remaining three ships in the class. These ships were to be named Ersatz Yorck, Ersatz Gneisenau, and Ersatz Scharnhorst, and the contracts were awarded to Germania Werft Kiel and Blohm & Voss Hamburg, in April 1914. The contract for Ersatz Yorck was awarded to AG Vulcan Werft Hamburg, and her keel was laid in July 1915. With the war nearly a year old, there was remarkably little haggling about the cost. The three ships would be authorized under the “replacement clause” of the Naval Law, to cover armored cruisers already lost in combat. The money would come from the “Wartime Extraordinary” budget. And work moved along, wartime priorities notwithstanding. On 17 March 1916, Admiral Eduard von Capelle replaced Grossadmiral Tirpitz as Secretary Of State for the Navy. In the blink of an eye, some twenty years of continuity in thought and policy was wiped away. The old admiral had dominated and directed every aspect of the Imperial Navy -- and he brooked no opposition. Now everything seemed open for discussion, and the old departmental debates returned with renewed vigor. The Construction Department stood firmly against merging the Grosse Kreuzer with a battleship, unless technological advances could be made in all weight groups – and the Kaiser’s desire for 15-inch guns would involve a considerable increase in displacement. At a 19 April 1916 meeting, Construction presented three new designs for the Grosse Kreuzer – GK-1, GK-2, and GK-3 – all mounting 15-inch rifles and varying in displacement between 34,000 and 38,000 tons. Much of the increased tonnage went to speed – larger and more powerful engines and increased length for boilers – adding as much as 2 knots more than the Mackensen design. The oil-fired boilers were increased to 12, but von Capelle wanted to retain the coal-fired boilers and their protective coal bunkers to offset retaining Mackensen’s armor suite. The new State Secretary agreed to dismiss the draft limitations placed on previous designs because of the shallow channels along the German coast. This had not been of great concern as long as ship displacement did not exceed 31,000 tons, but the new design proposals were another matter. (Anything deeper than a 32-foot draft would require expensive and time-consuming dredging of harbors and deep-water channels.) The Flottenchef, Vizeadmiral Scheer, favored design GK-2, which was, of course, the largest and fastest design at 29.5 knots. Konteradmiral Hebbinghaus (General Navy Department) was of the opinion the two types of warship could not be merged under the existing Navy Laws – although the development of the two types should be given a certain degree of leeway. Secretary von Capelle (who had written the Naval Laws) pointed out...”We can no longer afford the luxury of two highly developed types.” This is the problem von Tirpitz had tried so long to avoid – fearing the Naval Laws would have to be redrafted. The laws had been designed to benefit the Navy on every possible point – but redrafting might give the Reichstag the opportunity to decrease the number of ships – in view of the ever-increasing costs. Konteradmiral Hebbinghaus, in effect, wanted to “have his cake – and eat it, too”. He wanted to develop the battlecruisers to work as fast-battleships – while developing the battleships into fast-battleships – and maintain the fiction that the two types were separate. He argued the Mackensen Class should not be built, criticizing them on the grounds they were a pre-war design and incorporated no experience gained in the first year of combat – therefore – they would be obsolete at launch. Admiral von Capelle then suggested all work on Ersatz Yorck, Ersatz Gneisenau, Ersatz Scharnhorst, and even Furst Bismarck should cease – and design GK-6 should be pursued. GK-6 mounted eight 15-inch guns and displaced 36,500 tons with a speed of 28 knots. Admiral Scheer then criticized this design as sacrificing speed for armor. Whereupon, the meeting broke up. In the 24 August 1915 meeting, State Secretary Capelle reconfirmed the seven ships would be built to the Mackensen design after all. Vizeadmiral Schrader (Director of Construction) justified this to avoid construction delays and unnecessary cost increases. Schrader stipulated Mackensen’s speed was equal to the latest British battlecruisers – and the main armament, torpedo armament, armor suite, and underwater protection were considered superior in all respects. He was convinced the seven Mackensen’s would...”undoubtedly represent a valuable addition to the fleet in 1919”. Later in the month the subject of changing the design of the last three ships was raised yet again. It seems the US Navy had sent unofficial observers to Britain, and based on everything they could discover, the United States had now decided to build their own battlecruisers. The new information merely confirmed the train of thought – it would be unwise to risk naval funding at this point by trying to introduce a “merged” ship-type. It was also decided to change the composition and number of ships in the fleet “building goals”. Instead of 41 battleships and 20 Grosse Kreuzer – a more reasonable and attainable number was fixed at 25 battleships and 15 battlecruisers. In mid-June 1916, the design guidelines and type decisions for the immediate future were given to Vizeadmiral Scheer for comments and suggestions – in view of his recent engagement at Jutland. Scheer, of course, with a fleet of 11-inch and 12-inch-gunned warships, expressed the extreme need for heavier guns and faster hulls. On 31 October 1916, Konteradmiral Hebbinghaus provided new intelligence material and called for a review of the main armament on the “Ersatz Yorck” ships. A report had just come in from England indicating the most recent British battlecruisers – HMS Renown and Repulse would mount 15-inch guns. The same old pattern was repeating itself. Tirpitz had embraced the “D-48” design because of the British 15-inch guns on the Queen Elizabeth and Revenge Class battleships. Then an erroneous intelligence report convinced everyone the British would mount nothing heavier than 14-inch guns – so Tirpitz went off the bigger gun. But now that the British were going to 15-inch guns on a battlecruiser – the subject was once more open to discussion. Rumors were also circulating about the US Navy – they were developing a 16-inch gun. By this time the completion date of the Mackensen Class had been pushed back to 1920 – to accommodate the urgent needs of U-Boat construction. Extending their time frame yet again meant they would have to be “improved” to maintain some sort of parity with the English and Americans. Hebbinghaus now recommended rearming the Mackensen’s with 15 inch guns and – due to increasing construction difficulties – simply canceling the Erstaz York ships. Unfortunately, rearming the Mackensen’s would involve financial problems and a considerable delay while the plans were redrawn. Abruptly canceling the contracts for the Ersatz Yorck Class would also entail legal consequences. The only option was to modify the Ersatz Yorck design to carry 15-inch guns. The barbettes for the 14-inch rifles would only require a slight enlargement to carry the larger gun. But, strangely enough, Vizeadmiral Schrader spoke against the plan – convinced the Royal Navy would not go to the larger caliber. (The reasoning behind this naive belief was never made clear, and was never taken seriously.) In the end, the Construction Department worked for months to redesign the last three cruisers of the Mackensen Class to take eight 15-inch rifles (Mackensen, herself, was too far along). But the complicated sequence of capital ship construction proved resistant to change. Materials had already been assembled for the four ships, and the construction was simply too far along to adapt to a new design that easily. The Mackensen Class would remain as originally designed. ERSATZ YORCK CLASS BATTLECRUISERS Ersatz Yorck Class Ersatz Yorck – Ersatz Gneisenau – Ersatz Scharnhorst 33,500 tons – 747 feet in length – 27.25 knots – 8x15-inch guns – 12x5.9-inch guns – 8x3.1-inch guns – 3x28-inch torpedo tubes – Belt armor 11.75 inches – Crew compliment: 47 officers and 1,180 enlisted men. Ersatz Yorck’s construction had already begun, and materials for all three ships had also been ordered. But work was halted while the new designs were again altered. Redesigning the hull was inevitable because the 15-inch guns would require slightly larger barbettes, and a marginal increase in length to accommodate more storage space in the magazines. The architects made every effort to preserve her basic size and appearance in order to use the stockpiled materials – and especially the armor plate that had already been contracted for. (Forging, bending, and punching hundreds of thick steel plates was not an easy job, and sudden and extensive requests for change would not sit well with Gustav Krupp von Bohlen und Halbach – a close friend of His Majesty, the Kaiser.) Vizeadmiral Scheer’s request for higher speed, bigger guns, and more armor would have to wait – all he got was the bigger guns. The armor suite remained largely as it was in the Mackensen Class and the larger gun caliber cost Ersatz Yorck a half a knot in speed. In the final design configuration Ersatz Yorck was to displace 33,500 tons – the 15-inch rifles and turrets requiring nearly 1,000 tons per gunhouse. The new cruiser would be 747 feet in length with a beam of 99 feet-6 inches and a draft of 30 feet-6 inches. The ratios and clean lines of the hull remained approximately the same as Mackensen -- largely because Ersatz Yorck’s midships bottom had already been assembled on the slipway. The torpedo armament was reduced to three tubes – one bow and one on either broadside – now located abaft the boiler rooms and protected by the anti-torpedo bulkhead. Surviving documents indicate the location was chosen to provide more room to handle yet another new torpedo – the J-9 Type – 28 inches in diameter and some 9 meters long, with fifteen reloads. The boiler plant was the same as in Mackensen, with the same arrangement of steam turbines and reduction gearing providing a speed of 27.25 knots. The Fottinger Hydrodynamic Transmission was slated to be used as well. Operational radius was calculated at 6,000 miles at a cruising speed of 14 knots. Unlike the Mackensen Class, the boiler rooms in Ersatz Yorck were not separated by other compartments and were moved forward “en masse” allowing all of them to be trunked into a single funnel. Though less handsome, the single funnel arrangement allowed better spacing between the conning tower, tripod mast, and forward searchlight bridge, which provided a better field of vision from the conning tower – and funnel smoke was less apt to trouble the bridge. Cost estimates at the various stages of design had varied widely, but the final design – with all the changes and wartime inflation figured in – were expected to cost 75 million Marks apiece. (A cost that would undoubtedly have thrown Admiral von Tirpitz into cardiac-arrest!) Ersatz Yorck’s main battery consisted of eight 15-inch rifles mounted in four twin turrets. The SK L/45 38cm gun tube weighed-in around 89 tons and at +28 degrees elevation was capable of hurling a 1,653 lb projectile out to 34,000 yards at the rate of 2.5 shells per minute. The gun fired both high-explosive and capped armor-piercing shells. The main battery gunhouses were the Drh L/C 1916 model, very similar in design to the Mackensen Class turrets – only a bit more robust in the trunnion cradles to handle the greater weight and recoil stresses. In the Ersatz Yorck Class, the secondary battery was the standard SK L/45 (QF) 5.9-inch gun -- reduced from fourteen guns in Mackensen, to just twelve. The anti-aircraft battery was the same as in Mackensen. In most other respects, SMS Ersatz Yorck was to be constructed with the same materials and methods used in SMS Hindenburg – the template for her design. I refer you to Chapter 41 for the most modern innovations prior to the Ersatz Yorck design. CONSTRUCTION The builder’s contract was awarded to the AG Vulcan yards in Hamburg, and was signed on 10 April 1915 – some nine months into the war. The Vulcan yards had already assembled the construction materials and immediately began the prefabrication work. The process encountered several delays, and at least one temporary halt to re-examine the design -- but the ship’s keel was eventually laid in July 1915. In time, the midships portion of the hull bottom was assembled on the slip – but no more than that. Much like the Mackensen Class, Ersatz Yorck’s complicated and specialized materials placed such demands on the strategic supply chain that construction was suspended – and then canceled in 1917 – with the hull requiring 26 months of work before launch. Ersatz Yorck never did slide into the water that was her natural environment -- and was eventually broken up on the slipway. The keels were never laid for Ersatz Gneisenau and Ersatz Scharnhorst. Also canceled in 1917, their diesel dynamos were used in the construction of much more useful U-Boats, and the remainder of their assembled materials were used wherever possible, or simply scrapped. The ships of the Ersatz Yorck Class were the “last gasp” of a dying Empire. The metal bones of the “behemoths” would considerably out-live the Monarchy that bore them. The abandoned keel plates would gather rust on the builder’s slip -- timber balks would twist and warp in the weather -- and strangely shaped metal fabrications would be shoved out of the way to make room for U-Boats. Perhaps the saddest thing of all is that the “last” was the “best”, and they never came to life. Their armor was superior to the British battlecruisers – and their 15-inch guns were arguably as good. Though they were slower than HMS Renown and Repulse, it should be remembered that speed had not figured prominently at Jutland. Hipper’s Panzerkreuzer had not fought at full speed during most of the battle, and Beatty’s desire to engage meant he had to match their speed – not exceed it. The German armor suite, matched with powerful 15-inch guns, could have been decisive. HMS Renown as she would have looked – circa 1920. In yet another ironic twist, the Ersatz Yorck Class were designed as a counter to the 15-inch guns of HMS Renown and Repulse. Within days of finishing their sea trials the British battlecruisers were ordered to Scapa Flow for gunnery exercises. As the two ships steamed into Scapa Bay and moored to their buoys, they looked sleek and powerful – at first. Admiral Jellicoe watched in horror through his binoculars…… “...the two White Elephants displayed two rows of scuttles (portholes) the length of their hull...for all the world to see they had only a thin strip of armor at the waterline…” It is quite true Admiral Jackie Fisher was “midwife” to the battlecruiser – what is not generally acknowledged is that he was also their “undertaker”. Fisher had an absolute obsession for speed – almost a fetish. While German designers added armor to their Panzerkreuzer – Fisher built them bigger and faster, without adding armor. Eight years after HMS Invincible was launched, the Renown Class carried the same armor scheme. He believed “speed equaled armor”. If the ship was fast enough – it could run away from big guns – “armor was not needed”. The British paid dearly for Fisher’s failure of judgment -- in ships and men lost at Jutland. If Jellicoe was not already horrified enough, HMS Renown’s hull was strained during gunnery practice – popped rivets, warped frames, and buckled decks and hull plates. The ships were too “lightly” built, and could not withstand the firing shock of their own guns. Renown and Repulse spent so much time being strengthened and repaired, the British “tars” nicknamed them “Refit & Repair”. The German designers were concerned about the 15-inch guns -- but in reality, the British battlecruisers had only 6 inches of main belt armor and could easily have been handled by SMS Seydlitz or Derfflinger. POST SCRIPT The story never ends with the last word – there is always more – and the story of the German battlecruisers is no exception. The Imperial German battlecruisers ended when the Kaiserliche Marine ended – but the end of the Kaiserliche Marine was merely the beginning of the Reichsmarine. The Reichsmarine of the Weimar Republic struggled through the years after The Great War, strangled by lack of funds and high national inflation, while always burdened with the restrictions of the Versailles Treaty. But the German Navy was determined to survive and carry on their traditions – always looking ahead to better days. An enormous amount of design work had been done following the Ersatz Yorck Class. In 1917 and 1918 alone, the Imperial Construction Department turned out at least 18 design studies. But with the war going badly, everyone knew they were no more than “pipe dreams”. With the fall of the Monarchy and rise of the Republic, a chaotic political period ensued and records were lost or intermingled. During the succeeding Weimar Republic, the Treaty of Versailles prevented any new construction – except to replace ships if they were lost or reached “retirement age” at 20 years. (Four of the old pre-dreadnoughts survived some 30 years – and into WW II – with Schleswig-Holstein firing the opening shots of that war.) During the 15 years of the Republic, as many as six studies a year were carried out – but mostly to keep the design staff trained and to appraise modern developments in foreign navies. But the studies were dutifully filed away in the belief the political situation, and the national finances, would one day be stable enough to make use of them. Deutschland Class Panzerschiffe Deutschland -- Admiral Scheer – Admiral Graf Spee Displacement: 10,600 tons – Length 610 feet – Speed 28 knots – 6x11-inch guns – 8x5.9-inch guns – 3x3.5-inch AA guns – 8x21-inch torpedo tubes (deck mountings, fantail) – Complement: 33 officers, 586 enlisted – Operating Radius: 12,000 miles at 20 knots. The first ship built under treaty limitations was the Panzerschiffe (armored ship) RM Deutschland, built for the Reichsmarine, and commissioned in 1933. She was followed by two sister-ships -- Admiral Scheer in 1934 – and Admiral Graf Spee in 1936. The Versailles Treaty specified any new construction could be no more than 10,000 tons – thereby, effectively preventing Germany from building large capital ships capable of threatening Britain or France. When Deutschland was commissioned, she startled both the Royal Navy and the British Press with her battery of six 11-inch guns on a 10,000 ton displacement – and the British newspapers immediately dubbed her a “pocket-battleship”. (Ten thousand tons would become the standard Allied displacement for the WW II era “heavy cruiser”.) The German designers had set out to see just how much “battleship” they could pack into a 10,000 ton hull, and her modern diesel engines gave her “battlecruiser speed” with an extended operational radius. She was, in fact, an ideal commerce raider – the thing the British feared most. The design was, actually, far more effective than historians have admitted – probably because Graf Spee’s Kapitan handled her poorly off the River Plate in 1939. In 1933, the Weimar Republic all but ceased to exist when the tottering government of President Paul von Hindenburg passed into the control of a new set of actors. But – regardless of politics – the spirit of the Imperial Navy lived on. When the political climate and available finances finally came together, the opportunity to build a descent warship was taken up with enthusiasm. In early 1934 the old plans and specifications for “D-47” and the Mackensen and Erstaz Yorck Classes were pulled out of the files to form the basis of a new capital ship design. Updated with the latest maritime technology and incorporating modern weapons systems and naval practices – the last of the German battlecruisers was born. Scharnhorst Class Battlecruiser (Schlachtkreuzer) KM Scharnhorst – Commissioned: 1939 KM Gneisenau – Commissioned: 1936 Displacement: 32,100 tons – 771 feet in length – 31 knots – 9x11-inch guns – 12x5.9-inch guns – 14x4.1-inch AA guns – 10x20mm AA guns – 6x21-inch torpedo tubes (deck mounted amidships, either beam) 3 Arado Ar-196A-3 float planes – belt armor 13.8 inches. First, let me say there is some debate among analysts and historians about the classification of these ships. They were the first post-WW I ships to be officially classed as battleships by the Kriegsmarine. “Janes Fighting Ships: 1940” lists them as battleships. And the US Navy of that time considered them battleships. The Royal Navy considered them battlecruisers, but changed the classification to battleships AFTER World War II. The noted researcher and author Siegfried Breyer also classified these ships as battleships. However – Herr Breyer is careful to trace their lineage through the battlecruiser “tree” all the way back to SMS Von der Tann. All Imperial Panzerkreuzer were built as fast-battleships – but the battlecruiser classification is accepted without argument. In the final analysis, the only real difference between SMS Hindenburg and KM Scharnhorst – is about 20 years. And to anyone who has ever owned a horse, the “blood-line” is all-important. Battlecruisers sired KM Scharnhorst – and a battlecruiser she shall remain. Two views of Scharnhorst taking on main battery ammunition. Constructed between 1935 and 1939, these were powerful ships – but not as powerful as they could have been. Germany was actively seeking to get out from under the restrictions of the Versailles Treaty and had only recently signed the Anglo-German Naval Agreement of 1935 with the British. The new treaty still had many restrictions intended to keep German rearmament within limits. Consequently, the Government in Berlin did not wish to cause alarm in Britain by appearing to engage in yet another naval arms race. This existing political situation (as well as a shaky German economy) effected several design elements of the Scharnhorst Class. The new ships were designed with a tonnage no higher than the previous Imperial battlecruisers, and the main guns were the old reliable 11-inch rifles – fearing a bigger ship with 15-inch guns might set off alarm bells in London. As built, Scharnhorst and Gneisenau were thought of by the British as...“fast but under-gunned...and better suited to convoy raiding”. But the Naval High Command made sure the British never received a vital piece of information. The barbettes and turret machinery in Scharnhorst and Gneisenau had been built big enough and strong enough to accommodate twin gun houses with 15 inch rifles – the same arrangement designed for Ersatz Yorck – but with modern and more powerful rifles. Unfortunately, WW II broke out within months of commissioning, and they never found an appropriate time to install the bigger guns. Model courtesy of "Barroco Hispano" Two views of KM Gneisenau as she would have appeared with the new gun houses and rifles. The commissioning of KM Scharnhorst in 1939 was the last chapter in the story of the German battlecruiser. The Kaiserliche Marine had seen the “heyday” of the ships, while WW II saw the sad end. A year after Scharnhorst was commissioned, the British would attack the Italian battle fleet in Taranto harbor with Swordfish torpedo planes from an aircraft carrier. A year later, the Japanese would bomb Pearl Harbor, as well as sinking HMS Repulse and Prince Of Wales in the South China Sea – the last instance was with land-based aircraft. No longer would events be decided by long, lumbering lines of battleships, battlecruisers, and thundering guns. Now the long lines would simply present the perfect target for massed squadrons of torpedo planes and dive bombers. Though battleships proved useful throughout WW II, the dreadnoughts were no longer the “Queen of the Seas”. Britain retired HMS Vanguard in 1960, and the four battleships of the USS Iowa Class were retired between 1990 and 1992. Having fought in WW II, Korea, Viet NAM, Lebanon, the Persian Gulf, and the 1991 Gulf War, the citizens of a grateful nation preserved them as museum ships. “Big Mo” (USS Missouri) entering Pearl Harbor to be berthed on “Battleship Row” ahead of the USS Arizona Memorial – 22 June 1998. It is only fitting the two ships be anchored together – World War II started on one -- and ended on the other. (USS Arizona is still in commission – her name will never be stricken from the United States Naval Register.) Long before KM Scharnhorst’s hull slipped into the waters of Wilhelmshaven’s Inner Basin, the battlecruiser had fallen out of favor. The face of naval warfare – indeed, the whole world – had been transformed by the all-encompassing ruin of The Great War. An entire generation of young men had been slaughtered in Flander’s fields, the Italian Alps, the Steppes of Russia, and on the craggy cliffs of Gallipoli. Along with millions upon millions of broken lives, three great Monarchies had been swept away by the whirlwind -- and the political face of Europe was changed forever. There would be no return to the lazy, carefree summer of 1914 when the Edwardian Era marched off to war. The surviving “Great Powers” of Europe – “the winners” – were broken and teetering on the edge of bankruptcy. The occupied portions of France had been brutally devastated and fought over through four long years – her industrial areas of the north all but destroyed. Britain now faced a serious shortage of manpower – most of it buried in Belgium and northern France. And her finances were in ruins. The British had built the mightiest battle fleet the world had ever seen. She spent nearly a billion Pounds on battleships and battlecruisers alone – mostly borrowed from America – and with Peace, the bills came due. By the time HMS Hood was launched in 1920, the Royal Navy had already begun to lay-up or scrap the older dreadnoughts to reduce operating costs. The Washington Naval Treaty of 1922 had been agreed upon by all the major naval powers with a great sigh of relief. It seemed the only way they could reduce the size of their ponderous and hugely expensive battle fleets. HMS Hood was altered on the builder’s slip to incorporate the lessons of Jutland, and though classified as a battlecruiser, it was clearly understood she had been finished as the most modern fast-battleship afloat. All the naval powers arrived at the conclusion they could no longer afford to build both battlecruisers and battleships – so the ship types were finally merged and a new era of naval design came into being. As the precursor of the fast-battleship, the Imperial Panzerkreuzer had established the pattern with their speed and magnificent armor suite. And, in the process, the Kaiserliche Marine designed some of the most powerful – and certainly the most handsome warships ever built. They were admired and respected in their day, and have become “Legendary” over the past century. They will always be pictured in the mind with great clouds of billowing smoke trailing away as their sharp bows slice through the waves. Their low-lying profile charges ahead, throwing spray as high as the bridge before it settles to the deck and trickles off the massive, squat shapes of the menacing gun turrets. And in your mind, you can imagine the old “Bavarian buccaneer” smiling on Seydlitz’ bridge – confident in his ships and the men who sail them. An artist’s rendition of SMS Hindenburg as she might have looked at sea in 1917. SIDE BAR Since the Ersatz Yorck Class ships were never built, we do not have the benefit of historical photographs. The only known visual representation of the ships are a few plan drawings that miraculously survived the trauma of two World Wars and still exist in the BundesArchive. These drawings alone made it possible to arrive at the basic size and layout of the battlecruisers. These ships were designed in the same time frame as the battlecruiser Hindenburg and the battleship Baden. In order to fill in details that were not obvious from the 2-D drawings, it was only necessary to look back at the previous designs. @AP has generously provided us with a magnificent scratch-built 3-D model presenting SMS Ersatz Yorck in vivid detail – never before seen, to my knowledge – anywhere. I have waited to see this warship in a “physical representation” for most of my life – and it has truly been a pleasure to work with this superb model. I have provided a variety of photos – and hope you enjoy them as well. (BELOW) Four views of SMS Ersatz Yorck nested inboard of Ersatz Gneisenau. The collier SS Erlangen is preparing to transfer “bagged” coal aboard Gneisenau. The breakwater is by “Uki” and the mooring points are courtesy of “Mattb325”, modified for use in the CJ. Top right of the picture is an Invincible Class battlecruiser by @Barroco Hispano, Everything else in the picture is the impeccable work of “AP”. The decks are largely “clutter-free” with the superstructure concentrated amidships between the main battery turrets. With careful examination, you will see the massive 15-inch gun turrets – dominating the silhouette of the warship – have clear and extremely wide firing arcs. Here you see the long, streamlined shape of the hull, which would have contributed to SMS Ersatz Yorck’s high speed. It is also evident from her wide beam and low profile that she was designed to be a stable gun platform, even in high sea states. BELOW are four views of SMS Ersatz Yorck moored at the repair docks with a machinists barge tied-up alongside. They are making adjusts to her turbine machinery. The docks are modified from the “PEG SNM Naval Series” with a wide variety of props from various sources. The workshops atop the barge are from the “NOB 1905 Naval Series. The steam tug Goliath, alongside the barge, is by Barroco Hispano. The battlecruiser, both barges, small boat, barge crane and towing tug, and dockside cranes are all courtesy of “AP”. This is a close-up detail shot of Ersatz Yorck. Most Imperial warships were low-freeboard compared to the high-sided capital ships of the British. This tended to make them “wet” at high speeds or in rough weather but, more importantly, it made them a smaller target in battle. German designers took this concept a step further by shrinking the above deck superstructure into the smallest possible space. The “upper works” on Ersatz Yorck have been reduced to the bare essentials, with as little height as possible, and occupy only 22% of the ship’s overall length. The result is a remarkably small target silhouette, while significantly reducing the unarmored portions of the ship. The single funnel is a notable innovation in design over previous multi-funnel ships. Fewer funnels reduces the overall superstructure area and largely remove the “blind spot” behind the bridge. The sloping base of the funnel is a 5.9-inch armored shield protecting the boiler uptakes and trunking. Note the individual 3.5-inch guns on the upper deck beside the forward bridge, and on the main deck beside “D” turret. More on them coming up. BELOW are four images – depicting what a Battlecruiser Division (4 ships) might have looked like had they ever been completed. The four Erstaz Yorck’s are moored in Schillig Roads as a “reaction force” should British light forces appear in the German Bight. Ersatz Scharnhorst (left) is taking on supplies and fresh provisions from two tugs, with a third tug standing by with more provisions. Ersatz Gneisenau (right) is taking on ship’s stores and coal, with another coal tow standing by. The flagship, inboard of her is Ersatz Yorck, with a motor launch waiting in case the Konteradmiral commanding is required in Wilhelmshaven. (BELOW) Four views of SMS Ersatz Yorck coaling ship. Note the green channel marker buoys inshore marking the limits of the dredged channel. The steam tug Goliath is courtesy of “Barroco Hispano”, while the battlecruiser, motor launch, coal lighters, paddle tug, small boat, and channel buoys are by “AP”. This is a “snap-shot” from “AP’s” modeling program of the German 3.5-inch SK-L/45 Schneklladekanone (quick-firing gun). These guns were originally carried as anti-torpedo boat armament on all capital ships, but were phased out after combat experience in 1914 proved them incapable of causing serious injury to modern torpedo boats and destroyers. With the emergence of aircraft as a weapon of war, Krupp developed a high-angle mounting for the gun with a protective shield. (The mounting was an MPL-CC/13 type.) These weapons were first installed on SMS Derfflinger and would eventually be retro-fitted to all German warships. SMS Ersatz Yorck was equipped with eight guns – four grouped on either side of the forward bridge structure, and four grouped on either side of “D” turret. You might think this to be a small number of guns, but it was more than adequate to “see off” the fragile aircraft of that time. I included this picture as an example of the extreme level of detail included in “AP’s” modeling. Until you have examined his work at length, you cannot imagine the amount of detail and degree of authenticity he brings to his craft. His models never fail to impress and amaze, and are nothing short of magnificent works of art. NEXT TIME…… IN THE FINAL ANALYSIS 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

During the early decades of the 20th Century, this would have been a common sight in any of the industrialized nations of the world. Dreadnought battleships and battlecruisers were the largest and most mechanically complex moving objects on Earth – the most deadly that modern science could devise – and only rich and powerful nations could afford such baubles. So immense it took three or four years to build -- by thousands of workmen with heavy machines and specialized tools, who virtually hand-crafted each of the behemoths. And nations measured their wealth, power, and prestige by their possession. IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: CUXHAVEN By: Dreadnought & AP Chapter 42: THE LAST DREAMS OF EMPIRE GROSSE KREUZER - 1914 Nine months before the contract for SMS Hindenburg was awarded to Kaiserliche Werft Wilhelmshaven, there was still great debate as to the direction the Grosse Kreuzer concept should take. At the Kaiser’s request, State Secretary von Tirpitz requested the Construction Department to prepare weight and cost data for a Panzerkreuzer with 8x14-inch guns in twin turrets. To keep the costs down, he specified that in all other respects, it was to be the same as the Derfflinger Class. But Tirpitz was still not convinced of the need for larger guns and increased displacement. In his written reply to the Kaiser, he expressed – for the first time – his reason for opposing the gun caliber increase…… “In my opinion, we cannot retain strong armor, medium artillery and large-caliber guns with the Grosse Kreuzer. We arrive at a ship of over 30,000 tons and largely eliminate the [concept of the] Grossen Kreuzer [by building a fast battleship] and threaten the Fleet Law. Perhaps the costs and ship size of the project will go on absurdum.” Not to put too fine a point on it – while the British were building larger and more powerful warships -- von Tirpitz was unwilling to challenge the Reichstag Naval Law by telling them he needed ships at least as large and powerful as the English. In 1912, Wilhelm, showing an unusual degree of clarity, was more concerned about potential future battles than the politics in the Reichstag. He instructed Tirpitz to bring the project sketches and cost data to Rominten, his East Prussian hunting lodge, on 20 August. The Kaiser, predictably, was quite taken with what was, basically, a slightly longer Derfflinger Class with 14-inch guns. Still not convinced to embrace the up-gunned cruiser, Tirpitz was, nevertheless, obliged to pursue his Sovereign’s wishes – but not with reckless abandon. Again, he ordered the Construction Department to offset the bigger guns and longer hull with tonnage and cost reductions to conform to current “battlecruiser standards”. Herr Birkner, the Chief Constructor, coordinated with the Weapons Department and the General Navy Department, and presented Tirpitz with sketches and rough figures for seven designs of comparable size and power to Derfflinger. The designs had a wide range of combinations involving 13.4-inch and 14-inch rifles, though Birkner thought the 14-inch gun rather expensive. One option included reducing the belt armor to 11 inches, while another suggested reducing the machinery -- thereby shortening the hull and lowering the cost – while sacrificing a third of a knot in speed. Though some insight was gained, the various designs “priced-out” between 54-58 million Marks – and were rejected. But this was only the beginning of a long and convoluted process. This is an early sketch plan for “Grosse Kreuzer-1914”. It most likely represents a variation of the original “A-3” design. (Margin notes on the original document reference “A-3”, but indicate the sketch has been altered – without assigning any particular designation.) The only visual differences between this plan and SMS Hindenburg is a slightly more built-up area on the lower tripod mast – and – the secondary battery has been mounted within the hull on the battery deck. (Hindenburg’s 5.9-inch guns were mounted in the superstructure at main deck level.) In early September 1912, a more detailed design, “A-3”, was worked up and presented. Based on the already confirmed design for SMS Hindenburg, the new design had the same speed, same secondary battery, and same armor suite -- but with an eight-gun 14-inch main battery. (The guns were actually 35cm in bore, which translates to 13.8 inches – but being only 7/tenths of a centimeter short of the mark – I chose “14-inch” to avoid confusion.) As a result of SMS Moltke’s recent Atlantic crossing to the United States, the new ship was designed with higher freeboard aft to keep the fantail free of water. The Chief of Weapons Department had been pushing for a larger torpedo armament and six H-8 Type torpedo tubes were planned, though the arrangement was undecided. Underwater protection was improved by extending the double bottom structure up the side of the ship to the bottom edge of the belt armor. All the additions raised displacement to 31,000 tons. A further change was made to this design and labeled “A-9” – with six guns, removing two boilers, reducing speed by a third of a knot, shortening the hull length, and now displacing 29,000 tons. The Kaiser approved the new design on 30 September 1912. Though the design elements appeared to be settled, not everyone in the Reichsmarineamt was as satisfied as the Kaiser. During the winter of 1912-1913, the Construction Department and Weapons Department jointly queried the Krupp Werft at Essen to ensure an increase in gun caliber would not delay completion of the vessel beyond Spring 1917. Krupp officials could foresee no delays – if the guns were ordered no later than April 1913. The Construction Department was concerned about the 14-inch rifles because the English, Japanese, and Russians were considering building battlecruisers mounting that caliber – while the English were going to mount 15-inch guns on their Queen Elizabeth and Revenge Class ships. The Admiralstab criticized “A-9” as under-gunned with a ridiculously over-blown torpedo armament. The Staff also believed raising the freeboard of the cruiser only created a bigger target while wasting displacement which could be applied to bigger guns and higher speed. Admiral Rollmann produced an 8 March 1913 memorandum declaring...”if the Grosse Kreuzer is to retain the right to exist...the speed of the cruiser must be maintained.” The Admiral also rejected any reduction of armor on the grounds the Kaiser would never approve. (Wilhelm favored merging the Grosse Kreuzer with the battleship -- i.e., the fast-battleship.) But Rollmann’s suggestions fell on deaf ears. Tirpitz merely pointed out there was no provision in the Fleet Law for merged ship types. Other departments again argued for a 15-inch main battery based on trends in the Royal Navy, but a cruiser with four twin turrets would displace over 30,000 tons – so that was rejected. A cruiser with six 15-inch guns in three turrets was suggested, but the majority of staff favored eight 14-inch guns. Then the discussions took an abrupt turn. This model represents the basic design concepts embodied in the proposal for a Panzerkreuzer mounting eight 14-inch guns in twin turrets. Though the design was shelved several times, it was always brought back out and tinkered with – “ad infinitum - ad nauseam”. It was nearly two years before the design reached the keel-laying stage. The picture below shows the intricate planning that went into the original design – though the various details continued to change before being finalized. The superb model of SMS Mackensen is courtesy of @Barroco Hispano. Around May 1913, the Kaiser became aware of discussions concerning 15-inch weapons, and came down strongly in favor of the larger weapon – but eight guns, rather than six. At this point, Tirpitz began to rationalize switching to the big guns. He reasoned the 12-inch gun was sufficient against British battlecruisers, but against a battleship, something bigger might be needed. Knowledge of the development of the British Queen Elizabeth and Revenge Class battleships suddenly seemed to make the need for change even more vital. It was clear the current political temper in the Reichstag would not tolerate the “fast-battleship theory”, and it was equally clear the Grosse Kreuzer were absolutely necessary to the scouting elements of the Hochseeflotte – so a 15-inch-gunned Panzerkreuzer was the only answer. By early June 1913, the first proposals for the big-gun cruiser were presented for open discussion. Designs D-47 and D-48 were, again, based on SMS Hindenburg and were virtually identical in their armor and machinery. Visually, they bore a great resemblance to Hindenburg, with the exception of the main battery turrets. Both designs had three twin 15-inch turrets -- D-47 had two superimposed forward, and one aft – while D-48 had one forward with two aft, spaced in similar fashion to Hindenburg. Both designs were flush-decked, but with a higher freeboard, as seen in previous design iterations. The new tripod foremast with gun control positions was continued, and the six torpedo tubes were also included. At the same meeting, Designs D-50 and D-51 were also presented – with the same main battery turret arrangements, but different placement of the secondary batteries. D-52, on the other hand, had four twin 15-inch turrets arranged as in Hindenburg -- but even without the higher freeboard, this ship would displace 30,300 tons and was quickly rejected as too costly. A file in the BundesArchiv, dated 6 June, showed two other design sketches using triple and even quadruple main battery turrets. But no such turrets had been developed by Krupp, so they could have been no more than mere speculation. Tirpitz strove to keep the displacement and size of the new Panzerkreuzer within limits. Designing a stable gun platform required a certain amount of width (beam) to reduce rolling in a seaway. Making a “fast” ship required additional length to accommodate additional engines and boilers. But von Tirpitz knew, there were limits to size. As Germany’s major North Sea naval base, Wilhelmshaven was subject to the considerable tidal conditions of the Jade Estuary. The harbor could only be accessed via a dredged deep-water channel, and could only be entered or exited through tidal locks designed to keep it at a constant depth of water. Regardless of what Tirpitz wanted – it had to fit through the ship locks. As can be seen, the new design is long and narrow – with a 7 to 1 length-to-beam ratio. Since the Kaiser had already agreed to the up-gunned cruiser designs, a meeting was held on 17 June to chose one. D-48 was chosen quickly (one turret forward, two aft) because it allowed the widest possible firing arcs for the guns. This design also had the aft turrets separated by the aft engine room (as in Hindenburg), which meant the two turrets and their magazines could not be disabled by a single hit. This design also had the lowest displacement – 29,600 tons. The barbette armor was thickened over that of Hindenburg and the increased engine performance was achieved by larger boilers, custom-made to more fully fit the hull spaces – while partially reducing the boiler room bunker space. “D-48a” was priced out at 55.3 million Marks and was approved by the Kaiser on 28 June 1913. (As a matter of interest – design D-47, with two turrets forward and one aft – would be resurrected in 1935 as one of several design studies forming the basis of the battlecruiser KM Scharnhorst, commissioned in 1939.) Less than a week after signing-off on the new design, the Kaiser turned up at the Admiralstab offices and found State Secretary von Tirpitz and Admiral Muller (Chief of the Naval Cabinet) in conference. Wilhelm promptly pigeonholed Muller and asked if Tirpitz shared Admiral von Ingenohl’s opinion that...”modern Panzerkreuzer were as important as battleships…” and...”whether or not in the near future a ‘battleship-Panzerkreuzer’ should be built instead?” Tirpitz – taken aback at this sudden and not so subtle hint about fast-battleships – merely looked at the two men. Rather than vent his exasperation on the Kaiser, Tirpitz looked squarely at Admiral Muller...”Would you have me throw out the Reichstag’s Fleet Law?” The Kaiser’s insistence on a fast-battleship remained in this uneasy limbo until October 1913, when outside events intruded on this thorny issue. The naval attache in London reported recent information indicating Britain was going to reduce the size of its ships in favor of an increased number of ships – all of which were to be armed with 13.5-inch or 14-inch weapons. The Kaiser, of course, took the report at face value and considered this a...”victory without firing a shot”. It was, in fact, a defeat without firing a shot. Tirpitz immediately scrapped all notions of a 15-inch weapon and reverted to the 14-inch gun. All the coaxing that had turned Tirpitz to the larger gun had been undermined by a single report – which turned out to be unreliable. While the design discussions and “delicate political maneuvers” were in progress, the lower levels of decision-making were spending their time in a more productive manner. The engineering branch of the Construction Department had recently designed and installed a successful reduction-geared steam turbine plant in the test-bed steamer Paris. Up to this point, all steam turbine installations on Kaiserliche Marine warships were “direct drive” – which did not make efficient use of the power generated. Steam turbines rotate in the thousands of RPMs, while the most effective marine propellers operate at 300 RPMs or less. In effect, a great deal of coal was burnt to generate power which simply could not be applied through the propeller. By coupling the steam turbine to a set of heavy duty, finely tooled, precision gears – the RPM speed could be reduced to a level compatible with the propeller. Engineering Branch had worked out a system with cruising turbines and reduction gearing for “Grosse Kreuzer-1914”. In each of the low-pressure turbine rooms, there would also be two cruising turbines – one high-pressure, and one low-pressure. Without getting into too many details -- the cruise turbines, linked to the reduction gearing, would power the ship up to 16 knots – after which, the main turbines (direct-drive) would take over for higher speeds. This entailed less wear and tear on the machinery and would reduce coal consumption by 33% at 14 knots, and 15% at 22 knots. The only disadvantages were, unfortunately, the expensive precision gearing and an increase in displacement. This is how SMS Mackensen might have looked upon completion. A Nordwind Class tug is moving toward the bow, while four Passat Class tugs nudge the big cruiser into her quayside berth. At 31,000 tons and 731 feet in length, she would have required five seagoing tugs to handle her in the narrow confines of a harbor. The tugs, and numerous props on the quayside are the fine work of @AP. During a 22 November meeting, by way of a comparison against D-48a, von Tirpitz presented the Kaiser with design study “D-58” – a cruiser with 14-inch guns in four twin turrets, displacing 31,000 tons. (After much “haggling”, the old Admiral had concluded anything they built was going to exceed 30,000 tons.) In one of his less “decisive” moods, Wilhelm deferred making a decision until the spring of 1914. But Tirpitz, supported by Admiral von Ingenohl, had already decided in favor of “D-58”, and instructed the Construction Department to cease all design work on “D-48a”. A week later, von Ingenohl wrote a memorandum comparing “D-48a” with a design mounting eight 12-inch guns. The obvious advantage of six 15-inch guns was the considerably greater penetration and explosive force of the bigger shell – not to mention the gun’s greater range. But there were fewer guns, and only two guns could fire directly ahead – a decided disadvantage for a reconnaissance cruiser. He included a table showing comparative values of British armor and suggested the 12-inch gun was sufficient against existing British battlecruisers, as well as British battleships launched up to 1911. But the gun was not capable of dealing with newer battleships. In terms of hitting power, Ingenohl favored the 15-inch gun – but only three twin turrets presented a problem. With salvo fire, at least three shells were required for spotting the fall of shot, and German gunnery tactics used “pairs” of turrets to produce four shells in a salvo. (You see the obvious problem.) Von Ingenohl concluded neither the 12-inch gun nor the 15-inch gun could be recommended for the new cruiser, and suggested a main battery of eight 14-inch weapons. The 14-inch shell would be more than adequate to penetrate any British armor – four guns could fire directly ahead and astern – and four twin turrets allowed for proper salvo fire. Tactically speaking, “D-58” offered advantages other designs did not. In December, “D-58” underwent further design work. The secondary 5.9-inch guns were, originally, to be mounted in the superstructure at the Upper Deck level – but they were reduced from 18 to 14 – and moved to hull casemates at Battery Deck level. Since the ship had a higher freeboard, the guns were roughly the same level above water as those in Hindenburg. Rather than a straight-line casemate, they were arranged in the “indented” style to provide a wider arc of fire ahead and astern – it also prevented a hit on a single gun from knocking out other guns by collateral damage. A proposal to reduce the main armor belt to 11 inches was flatly rejected, but the main battery turret faces were reduced from 14 inches to 13 inches (not the best idea). All suggestions for a reduction in speed were rejected out of hand, while the proposal for the turbine reduction gear was approved. To obtain a higher speed, the idea of custom-building larger boilers to fit the space available was carried forward. This avoided widening the ship’s beam to create space for additional boilers. The number of boilers was fixed at 16 -- subject to change. To create available space, the boiler room coal bunkers were eliminated, but to maintain the protection level, the coal bunkers along the side were enlarged at the expense of the wing passage voids. Extending the double bottom up to the lower edge of the main belt armor was also carried over. After the meeting, the new cruiser design was designated “D-60”. (Perhaps you are beginning to see how researchers can become confused with all these different plan designations going back and forth.) In March 1914, having studied the new plans at length, the Construction Department suggested the sloping armor (“boschung” in German) of the main protective armored deck could be eliminated. The change could be made without a significant sacrifice of protection, while it would make boiler room access to coal bunkers easier – along with other significant weight savings in altered structural details. Another savings in weight was adopted by removing the stern torpedo tube. After a further, final, meeting on 19 May, “D-60” was finalized and presented to the Kaiser, who signed-off on the design on 23 May 1914. It would be little more than a month before shots disturbed a peaceful Sunday afternoon in far away Sarajevo. This is how SMS Mackensen might have looked in 1917, moored to buoys in Schillig Roads while taking on coal and fresh provisions. Note the green channel marker buoys inshore of the battlecruiser. Mooring buoys, channel markers, tugs, and lighters by “AP”. The design for “Grosse Kreuzer-1914” was not adopted for any particular reason, but for a variety of reasons – technical, financial, and political. Despite all attempts to obtain 15-inch rifles for the new cruiser, she would be built with an intermediate gun of 14 inches, which Tirpitz knew would likely be replaced by the larger gun in the next class of Panzerkreuzer. But the naval budget of 1914 had been passed in February, and the financial resources were already all but exhausted. “Grosse Kreuzer-1914” and her three sister ships were estimated to cost, at completion, some 250 million Marks. Tirpitz knew the time was not “politically” right to raise the gun caliber and push the Panzerkreuzer into the “official” realm of the purpose-built “fast-battleship”. (The political situation would only get worse for the Kaiserliche Marine. Six months into The Great War, the Imperial fleet had delivered no significant victories and the 1915 Naval Estimates were opposed in the Reichstag.) But it was, perhaps, worth all the trouble. “Grosse Kreuzer-1914” was quite a formidable design – high speed – thickly armored – and armed with a new, “state-of-the-art”, 14-inch naval rifle (second only to the British BL 15-inch Mark I). The new cruiser could have easily disposed of any British battlecruisers then afloat and might well have been able to handle the odd battleship. Tirpitz originally planned to build a class of seven ships to this design, but the shipyards already had four battleships of the Bayern Class on the building slips, as well as (by this time) the last Derfflinger Class battlecruiser (SMS Hindenburg). With only four large construction slips available – Tirpitz had to make choices. Four ships were laid down in 1915 – while the design of the remaining three ships was later altered on the drawing board and eventually constituted a later class (Esatz Yorck Class). After the outbreak of war in August 1914, the bulk of the old protected cruisers (Victoria Louise Class) were stricken from the navy list as obsolete, while the early months of the war took its toll on the elderly armored cruisers. These actions, alone, put the Hochseeflotte at a serious numerical disadvantage in cruiser scouting forces. All four of the new “Grosse Kreuzer” were covered by the “automatic replacement” clause of the Navy Law. (It was not at all a bad deal. Old and virtually obsolete ships – no longer reasonably capable of engaging an enemy in battle – were to be replaced by “brand spanking new” Panzerkreuzer.) Various historians have come up with names for the four cruisers – none of which are in total agreement with the others. The “BundesArchiv” has some documentation on the names, but only three of the first four ships were ever christened with their official names…… Ersatz Victoria Louise…...to be named…...SMS Mackensen Ersatz Blucher…………...to be named…...SMS Graf Spee Ersatz Freya……………...to be named…...SMS Prinz Eitel Friedrich Ersatz Friedrich Carl…….to be named…...SMS Furst Bismarck (conjecture, but with documentation) Interestingly enough, the German practice of ordering a warship under an “Ersatz” name, and then christening the ship at launch with her “official” name, has not just been a matter of confusion for historians. British Naval Intelligence reports, declassified some years later (around 1965), show a great deal of information had been collected. It was, in fact, an amazingly large treasure trove of information – considering a good deal of it was obtained after war had been declared. There is no way of knowing how many spies risked their lives – and what cunning and inventive methods were employed to obtain the information – though the PBS series “Reilly: Ace Of Spies” gives us a good idea of spy craft in the Edwardian Era. But one thing is painfully apparent – the British were totally confused. In some cases, the Intelligence people thought there were actually two ships under construction – one named Ersatz Victoria Louise – the other Mackensen. This resulted in as many as 14 battlecruisers estimated to be on German slipways. In other instances, their information had the right ship, but the wrong builder’s yard. In other cases, the “Ersatz” names were not properly matched with their official names. Additional information often cited the new ships as sister ships of the Hindenburg Class – without realizing Hindenburg was actually a sister ship of the Derfflinger Class. Other ship’s data was erroneously cited as having more or fewer main battery guns than actually planned. One Intelligence report, in fact, stated the Mackensen Class was to carry 15-inch weapons. Another, rather lengthy report, reputedly sent via Sweden, listed four Manteuffel Class battlecruisers under construction. Of course, no such class was ever contemplated – but the report did contain actual blueprints of the rejected “D-48” design. And finally – at least two of the Mackensen’s were believed to have joined the Hochseeflotte before November, 1918. As you can see, historians were a good deal less confused in 1968 than the British had been in 1918. (Strangely enough – most subsequent authors have chosen to quote British sources – rather than searching surviving German archives.) MACKENSEN CLASS BATTLECRUISERS SMS Mackensen Class – Plan profile. You will notice the striking similarity to SMS Hindenburg. In essence, the class is an “improved” and more powerful version. The builder’s contract was awarded to the Blohm & Voss yards in Hamburg and was signed on 7 August 1914 – three days after Britain declared war on Germany. Blohm & Voss immediately started assembling the construction materials and began the prefabrication work. The process took a bit longer under wartime conditions, but the ship’s keel was laid on 30 January 1915. In most respects, SMS Mackensen was constructed with the same materials and with the same methods as that of previous Imperial battlecruisers – and since her design was based on the Derfflinger Class, I refer you to Chapters 15, 17, and 23 for full construction details. GENERAL HULL The new cruisers were the longest yet built at 731 feet with a beam of 99 feet, nine inches – and flush-decked like their predecessors. Their size was pushing the limit for ships that could use the III Locks at Wilhelmshaven. Their displacement, at 31,000 tons, also made them the heaviest ships yet designed for the Kaiserliche Marine – and considerably heavier than Tirpitz had originally bargained for. Mackensen’s hull was divided into 18 large watertight compartments by transverse bulkheads, with numerous smaller watertight subdivisions within each section. The new cruiser had a double bottom stretching over 92% of her length – a considerably larger area than previous Imperial warships. The lengthened double bottom was also extended as a “double hull side”, connecting with the lower edge of the main armor belt. (Designed to protect against shells falling short and striking the outer hull below the armor belt, this feature would have been of great value to Seydlitz, Derfflinger, and Lutzow at Jutland.) A surprising innovation was borrowed from the battleship USS Arkansas, commissioned in 1911 -- the “bulbous bow” fore-foot – created by the American naval architect, Admiral David Taylor. When German designers added an aft broadside torpedo flat to Mackensen’s design, they had to move the “A” and “B” main battery turrets forward to balance the center of gravity. Through “towing tank” tests, the Germans found the “bulbous bow” feature improved buoyancy forward without increasing the hull width – which would have created “drag” on the hull form. Following the developing trend, Mackensen was given a 197-foot tripod mast. A spacious fire control position was situated atop the mast legs with an additional 118-foot main mast attached to carry wireless antennas. In the primitive early days of wireless telegraphy, the taller the mast – the better the reception – and the Kaiserliche Marine was exceptionally good at intercepting and jamming enemy signals. This is a 3-D model of SMS Mackensen as she would have appeared in her final design. The battlecruiser is longer than her predecessors, and the most obvious difference from the Derfflinger Class is the Battery Deck carries the secondary battery in hull casemates, and the upper – or main deck -- has been narrowed to expose a small portion of the Battery Deck along the midships section of the hull. ARMOR SMS Mackensen’s vertical (side) armor was based entirely on that of the Derfflinger Class, to include modifications made to SMS Hindenburg, so there is no need to repeat the details, here. The basics were: bow armor 4.8 inches – stern section 4 inches – main belt 12 inches – citadel belt 9 inches – and the casemate strake was 6 inches. There were four transverse bulkheads, also armored with Krupp face-hardened nickel steel. The first armored bulkhead was 7 inches thick and located midway between the stem and “A” turret. The second armored bulkhead of 10 inches sealed the forward end of the main belt armor and fronted “A” turret. The third armored bulkhead of 10 inches was aft, and fronted “D” turret, sealing the aft end of the midships main belt armor. The fourth bulkhead was 5 inches thick, and located midway between “D” turret and the stern. Though the naval architects had, at that time, no combat results to work with, Herr Hullmann had previously pointed out the danger of the battlecruiser’s weak bow armor. Two of the four bulkheads were new additions to try and reduce the threat to the weakly armored ends of the warships. (Such an arrangement might well have saved SMS Lutzow at Jutland.) The horizontal armor on Mackensen was a considerable improvement over SMS Hindenburg, and quite extensive. The naval architects had enough foresight to increase the main gun elevation on SMS Hindenburg on their own initiative – because of the obvious advantages. And the Weapons Department was also smart enough to know the British 13.5-inch and 15-inch guns had considerable range – which meant their shells would be falling on the target from a higher and steeper trajectory – what came to be called “plunging fire”. SMS Mackensen was given a 1.5-inch Upper Deck, a 1-inch Battery Deck, and a 3.1-inch armored protective deck. It was hoped the Upper and Battery decks would be of sufficient thickness to detonate incoming shells before they reached too deeply into the ship’s interior. As the battle reports from Jutland were studied, earlier design weaknesses became apparent, and the brutal destructive power of British 15-inch shells even more so. Two inches of horizontal plate was added over the machinery and magazine spaces during construction. The protective armored deck did away with the sloping edges and tied directly into the main belt side armor. The forward conning tower was armored to 14 inches, while the aft conning tower had 8 inches. The anti-torpedo bulkhead stretched along both beams from “A” turret to “D” turret, and was 2 inches along the boiler spaces and 2.5 inches in all other areas. Three views of SMS Mackensen exiting the Inner Basin at Cuxhaven. Normally, four “fleet tugs” could have handled a ship of this size, but the German practice of mounting twin rudders on the centreline, “in parallel” (one behind the other), caused the ships to handle poorly in any shallow water and especially in confined spaces, such as harbors or canals. The more modern Panzerkreuzer were longer, and known to suddenly veer off in odd directions at slow speeds. Here you see two tugs towing, two more “riding drag” astern, and two alongside for emergencies. The shift to a 14-inch main battery necessitated an entirely new gun house design to accommodate the big rifles. The face plates were 13 inches, with 8-inch sides, sloping roof sections of 7 inches, and flat roof sections of 4 inches. The turret barbettes were 11 inches down to the floor of the battery deck, where they thinned to 3.7 inches. Thinning barbettes as they went down into the ship was a common weight-saving practice in all navies – but it was a faulty theory. Designers assumed several layers of various armor – decks, transverse bulkheads, and hull armor belts – would either detonate the shell, or slow it down sufficiently to prevent penetration if it did manage to strike the barbette armor. The battles of Dogger Bank and Jutland would prove the theory entirely bankrupt. Both British and German capital ships suffered heavily from the loss of main battery turrets – and entire warships -- due to insufficient armor on the gun houses and barbette trunks. (See related chapters on the battle.) Since the Mackensen’s were never tested in battle, we will never know if the additional armor would have been enough. But the designers had made the effort to send Mackensen into battle – without forcing her to carry the seeds of her own potential destruction. This picture has somewhat poor resolution, but it is the only one I could find showing the new SK L/45 14-inch gun – on the right. On the left, is the SK L/50 12-inch gun mounted in the Derfflinger Class battlecruisers. These guns are mounted in “test beds” which are very similar to the gun cradles found inside the turrets. Note the surprising difference in the girth and length of the two guns – as well as the ammunition displayed – and note the size of the sailor in the shot. The Krupp 14-inch gun is a veritable monster. ARMAMENT The main gun armament of the Mackensen Class battlecruisers was to be eight SK L/45 14-inch Krupp rifles. They were to be mounted in a Drh L/C 1914 model gunhouse – and in a Drh L/C 1915 model gunhouse aboard SMS Graf Spee. In most respects the turrets and mountings were very similar to the Drh L/C 1913 turrets designed for the 15-inch-gunned Bayern Class battleships. The new turrets had greater elevation and were somewhat smaller in size. (They were, in fact, larger than previous battlecruisers – but smaller than the battleship version.) Another change from previous turret designs included a “depot platform” – just below the turret working chamber -- intended to store “ready ammunition”. However, as battle reports came in from the North Sea, it was decided only shells would be stored there. The gun cradles were identical in shape to the 1913 designs, but made heavier and stronger to accommodate the more powerful guns. Each of the four gun houses had a 25-foot rangefinder located beneath the roof in its forward extremity. The original gun elevation was increased from 16 to 20 degrees, but wartime experience led to that being further increased to +28 degrees. The gun tube weight was 81 tons – roughly 30 tons heavier than the 12-inch weapons in Derfflinger – and required a more robust hydraulic elevation system with extended driving rods. At +28 degrees of elevation, the 14-inch gun could hurl a 1,321 pound shell out to 30,700 yards at a firing rate of 2.5 shells per minute. The muzzle velocity of 840mps was slower than previous German main battery weapons, but the slower shell velocity actually produced a more stable flight pattern imparting greater accuracy while reducing the “wear rate” of the barrel. With the major increase in tube weight, emergency manual elevation was no longer possible, so an auxiliary electric drive was installed, while the gunhouses were traversed electronically. In an attempt to reduce the overall weight of the turret and working machinery, only a single munitions hoist was installed for each gun. This meant both powder charges and shells were carried in the same hoist. This was roughly the same hoist system installed in Lutzow and Derfflinger – but without the usual interruption between magazine and gun house. This was a most unusual choice for the normally safety-conscious German designers. But using an uninterrupted hoist directly from the magazine to the gunhouse did not appear to entail any undue hazards. Automatic flash doors were installed at both ends of the hoist to prevent accidents, as well as special flash-proof scuttles on the powder magazines and shell rooms. The shells came up from the magazines and exited the hoists between the two guns, where an automatic rammer pushed them onto a “munitions car” – the car was automatically transported behind the guns, where they were rammed home by another automatic rammer. The control position for the loading machinery was in the rear of the turret and had a clear view of the entire operation. Each gun tube was supplied with 85 shells – a mixture of high-explosive, or aluminum-capped armor-piercing. Two smoke extraction fans were installed in the rear of the turret, exhausting the fumes through an armored grate in the floor. The main battery turrets were arranged with excellent arcs of fire – 300 degrees for “A” and “B” turrets – with 310 degrees for “C” and “D” turrets. The Artillery Transmitting Station (fire control central) was located deep within the hull on the middle Platform Deck. The secondary battery consisted of 14 SK L/45 (QF) 5.9-inch guns mounted within hull casemates – 7 on each beam. The casemate area stretched from the rear of “A” turret to the rear of “C” turret – much farther forward than in previous battlecruisers. The German 5.9-inch was an excellent gun and quite capable of dealing with destroyers, and even light cruisers. (See Chapter 17 for details on gun performance.) The light artillery (anti-aircraft weapons) were the standard 3.1-inch Flak L/45 in the MPL C/1913 mounting. These were grouped with four around the forward bridge and four more around “C” turret. The guns were supplied with 450 rounds apiece. Again – the small number of anti-aircraft guns were more than sufficient to deal with the nearly harmless aircraft of the period. The torpedo armament had been increased at the insistence of the Weapons Department, but was reduced to five tubes when the stern torpedo compartment was eliminated to make room for the rudder steering system (itself moved to make room for the new geared turbines). One torpedo tube was mounted in the bow, one on either beam just forward of “A” turret, and one on either beam just aft of the “D” turret magazines. All tubes were equipped with the new quick-loading system and would fire the H-8 Type torpedo. This weapon had two optional speeds and ranges – 6,600 yards at 36 knots, or 15,300 yards at 30 knots. Here we see two of the four Mackensen Class battlecruisers tied-up at mooring points in the Cuxhaven roadsted. SMS Prinz Eitel Friedrich is moored inboard, and SMS Graf Spee is outboard, preparing to take aboard fresh provisions, stores, and coal. The mooring points are by “Mattb325” – modified for use in Cuxhaven. The two wonderful battlecruisers are by @Barroco Hispano. The white tug was gifted by “WolfZe”. Breakwaters by “Uki”. The sailors, lighters, boat boom, small boats, and Thor Class tug are the meticulous work of @AP. In the lower picture you can clearly see where the new 25-foot, internal rangefinder is mounted at the forward extremity of each main battery gunhouse. Close-up detail shot. MACHINERY As with previous Panzerkreuzer, SMS Mackensen was powered by marine steam turbines. Two high-pressure turbines drove the outer shafts through “direct-drive”, and were located outboard on either side of the “C” turret magazines. Low-pressure turbines drove the two inner shafts and were located in the below-decks space between the two aft turrets. The ship’s main condensers were also housed in the aft turbine rooms. For the first time in a German capital ship, “cruise turbines” were coupled to the inner shafts. A high-pressure and low-pressure cruise turbine was coupled to a reduction gear, which was, in turn, coupled to each inner shaft. SMS Mackensen, Graf Spee, and Ersatz Freya were to receive this arrangement, while Furst Bismarck was to be fitted with Professor Fottinger’s recently tested hydrodynamic transmission. (Fottinger’s transmission was slated to be used with the following Ersatz Yorck Class battlecruisers, but in the end, it never saw service in a commissioned capital ship. The system was tested in one of the pre-war German passenger liners, which was ceded to Britain as war reparations. They yanked the system out in 1926 and replaced it with a standard turbine arrangement. But there must have been some merit to Fottinger’s system -- it eventually led to the automobile automatic transmission.) In the final design, Mackensen’s boiler plant comprised eight oil-fired boilers and twenty-four coal-fired boilers. In a slightly improved pattern, there were four smaller boilers in each of the watertight boiler rooms (easier to fit into tight spaces). This was also in line with the Imperial Navy’s policy for a more uniform method of generating steam. It also allowed for boilers to be held in reserve, and made provision for “boiler rotation” during prolonged high-speed operation (for cleaning and trimming the fires -- a problem encountered at Jutland). Contemporary design detail sketches show the coal-fired boilers to be a custom-built double-boiler type. The new cruiser was designed with the standard four-shaft, twin rudders in-parallel, configuration – each rudder operated by a steam-powered spindle drive. In the event of a steering engine failure, the rudders could be cross-connected or operated manually. Mackensen’s bunker capacity was 4,000 tons of coal and 2,000 tons of oil – giving a theoretical operating range of 8,000 miles at 14 knots. The ship’s propulsion plant had a designed rating of 90,000shp capable of achieving 28 knots. GENERAL CHARACTERISTICS SMS Mackensen’s electrical plant was more extensive than her predecessors – eight diesel dynamos – the diesels variously built by Blohm & Voss, M.A.N., and Germania-Werft. With eight dynamos provided by Siemens Schuckert, AEG (General Electric), and Brown-Boveri & Co. The system operated on 220 volts with a total output of 2,320kw. Among other equipment, the diesel-dynamos powered nine 48-inch searchlights – one on the upper tripod mast -- four mounted on the forward searchlight bridge – between the fore funnel and the tripod mast. The other four were on the aft searchlight bridge between the mainmast and the second funnel. This view from the stern shows the grouping of the aft anti-aircraft guns on the main deck around “C” turret and a good look at the newly configured aft searchlight bridge. You will note the tight grouping of the “no frills” superstructure and the clutter-free decks. Drainage and pumping systems for the Mackensen Class were completely redesigned from that of previous battlecruisers. Instead of the old “closed-loop”, the new system was a “group-drainage” type – where the transverse bulkheads divided the ship into sections independent of one another. Each watertight compartment and all of its subdivisions were drained through a common pipe, which in turn, could be connected by a valve to the adjoining watertight compartments. In theory, this prevented flooding in one watertight section from overwhelming the pumps in another section. In an emergency, the ship’s condensers, auxiliary cool water pumps, and engine cooling water pumps, could be linked to the system for added capacity. There were eight drainage pumps instead of the usual five. Her crew complement called for 46 officers and 1,140 enlisted men. In all other respects, the Mackensen Class would have had the same details and arrangements as the Derfflinger Class. At this point it might be worth studying the two ships to see just how similar they really were…… Derfflinger is in the foreground, with Mackensen behind her. Mackensen’s extra 41 foot length is apparent. The forecastle ahead of “A” turret is longer, as is the fantail aft of “D” turret – while her midships between the gun turrets is shorter than that on Derfflinger, and her taller funnels are grouped closer together. Mackensen has a more spacious navigation bridge and armored conning tower. While Derfflinger’s forward bridge is lower, and less cluttered – Mackensen’s is more built-up, taller, and has a tripod mast and designated searchlight bridge between the conning tower and the first funnel. The distance between the “C” and “D” turrets is greater on Mackensen than on Derfflinger. SMS Mackensen is in the foreground of this close-up, which shows the individual details much better. “C” turret has two large air scoops on either side, leading down to the high-pressure turbine rooms on either side of the turret magazines. The below-decks space between “C” and “D” turret is occupied by the low-pressure turbines, cruising turbines, and reduction gearing. Mackensen’s gun houses are much larger than those on Derfflinger, and have adopted sloping armor to reduce the vertical and horizontal surface areas of the turret roof and sides. The fronts of the turrets have an unusual “protruding wing” which was specifically included to house the new 25-foot rangefinders used for “local control” in emergencies. Yes – you could tell the two ships apart with no difficulty. But if you examine the deck layout as separate components – the two ships are remarkably similar. The turrets are placed in similar fashion. The conning tower, bridge, and first funnel form the same component structures in both ships (Derfflinger even received a tripod mast after Jutland.) The midships section is again mostly devoted to the ship’s boats. And the aft control structure and funnel on both ships are very similar. The structures are a bit smaller, or a bit larger – but they are basically the same. A sailor transferred from Derfflinger to Mackensen would have felt right at home. MACKENSEN CLASS: Mackensen – Graf Spee – Prinz Eitel Friedrich – Furst Bismarck 31,000 tons – 731 feet in length – 28 knots – 8x14-inch guns – 14x5.9-inch guns – 8x3.1-inch guns – 5x23.6-inch torpedo tubes – Belt armor 12 inches. CONSTRUCTION The keel of this magnificent warship was laid on 30 January 1915, at the Blohm & Voss shipyards in Hamburg. Imperial Germany was only 6 months into the war, and the staff at the Admiralstab were just beginning to find out how ill-prepared they were. Only a little more surprised, were the members of the Army’s Great General Staff. During the first few weeks of the war, the German Army had advanced from success to success, and the army commanders and the General Staff were elated. But as the weeks turned into months, the enemy’s resistance stiffened, and German casualty rates became alarming. Pre-war staff exercises and wargames had never anticipated the sheer slaughter of a machine-gun-dominated modern battlefield. The Army had been in heavy combat from the start -- and was not only in need of replacements for their thinning ranks, but was burning through vast quantities of ammunition, supplies, and equipment of every description. Factories all over Germany were swamped with new contracts demanding huge quantities of uniforms, boots, weapons, and especially machine guns – but most especially for the monster cannon from the Krupp Works. And even at this early stage of the war, the factories and the farms were beginning to lose their unskilled workers to replace battlefield losses. The Kaiserliche Marine also suffered shortages they had never anticipated. Before the war, the fleet had been chronically short of crewmen to man the new dreadnoughts – but that had been more a shortage of money to pay them. Now, the Army was taking every able-bodied man they could and naval recruits were scarce. Soon, the Admiralstab would have to decommission their elderly ships so they could assign the crews to actual fighting ships. Construction yards were overwhelmed with orders for additional torpedo boats to screen the fleet – for minesweepers – and for submarines to attack the English. Dockyards were filling up with damaged warships of all sizes – dreadnoughts torpedoed by submarines – light cruisers struck by mines – or torpedo boats peppered with gunfire while skirmishing in the German Bight or the Baltic Sea. Worst of all – the ranks of the dockyard workers were being thinned by conscription into the Army. Suddenly there was more work than the yards could handle – and fewer workers to handle it. SMS Mackensen fell prey to every shortage and delay imaginable. Within weeks of the keel laying ceremony, the decision was made to slow down her construction so Blohm & Voss workers could be switched to repairing battle damage from light forces skirmishing in the North Sea. Several months later, more workmen were reassigned to begin construction on new U-Boats urgently requested by the Admiralstab. Soon thereafter, Krupp Werk in Essen let it be known priority demands for Army heavy artillery would slow the delivery of Mackensen’s big 14-inch guns. (Eventually, all of her gun tubes were commandeered and mounted as railway guns for the Western Front.) The hull of (arguably) the most advanced warship ever designed for the Imperial Navy remained on the builder’s slip for all of 28 months. Easily a year past its due-date. SMS Mackensen, officially christened, slides down the builder’s slip and into the construction basin at Blohm & Voss Dockyards. She is over a year late getting into the water. You can just make out the shape of the new “bulbous bow” around the “cut” of the “forefoot”. On 21 April 1917, the new battlecruiser was christened by the wife of Feldmarschall August von Mackensen – the man for whom the ship was named. Feldmarschall Anton Ludwig Friedrich August von Mackensen – 1849-1945 – was born in Saxony and joined the 2nd Hussar Regiment of the Prussian Army at age 19 in 1868. He fought in the Franco-Prussian War of 1871 and rose to command the 1st Hussar Regiment in 1893. During The Great War he commanded the 9th and 11th Armies with distinction and was promoted to Feldmarschall in June 1915. He participated in the conquest of Serbia and Romania and was appointed military governor of Romania in 1917. August von Mackensen retired from the Army in 1920, but remained politically active until his death in 1945, at age ninety-five. The unfinished hull of SMS Mackensen was moved into the fitting-out basin, but by 1917 the war aims of the Kaiserliche Marine had changed. The Hochseeflotte had only managed a “tactical” victory at Jutland, while narrowly avoiding a disaster. It was clear to the Admiralstab that even a strengthened battle fleet would not be enough to achieve a decisive victory over the British. The Imperial Navy would now rely upon its U-Boats, mines, and light forces to confront the English across the North Sea. Continuing to build massive capital ships, with no hope of producing a victory, would merely waste valuable resources needed by the fleet – not to mention the Army. A fitting-out gang of around a thousand workmen were allocated to the new Panzerkreuzer and work proceeded slowly. When the Armistice was signed in late 1918, some fifteen month’s work remained before completion. The newly formed Wiemar Republic had no interest in finishing the vessel, and on 17 November 1919, SMS Mackensen was stricken from the naval register. On 21 October 1921, the unfinished hull was sold to Fa Kubatz of Hamburg for scrapping – which was carried out in Kiel beginning in 1922. SMS GRAF SPEE The keel of Graf Spee was laid on 30 November 1915 at the Ferdinand Schichau Werk in Danzig, and she was launched nearly 22 months later, on 15 September 1917. The christening speech was given by HRH Grossadmiral Prinz Heinrich, Commander Baltic Forces, and the ship was christened by the widow of Vizeadmiral Graf von Spee, Grafin Margarette von Spee. She brought a bottle of vintage white wine from the family estates in the Rhineland for the purpose. The ship’s namesake was Vizeadmiral Graf von Spee, born in Copenhagen in 1861, to traveling parents with roots in the Rhineland. Young Maximilian joined the Imperial Navy at age 17, and over the years held several seagoing commands, including the cruiser Hela and the pre-dreadnought battleship Wittelsbach. He did two tours on the Reichsmarineamt staff, and held appointments as second in command of Scouting Forces, and second in command III Battle Squadron, before being appointed to command the German East Asiatic Squadron in China. He and two of his sons perished when his flagship, SMS Scharnhorst, went down at the battle of the Falkland Islands, 8 December 1914. (See Chapter 09 for full details.) SMS Graf Spee was to have been finished as a flagship, with quarters and amenities befitting an admiral and his staff. But no admiral would ever serve in her. Graf Spee suffered much the same fate as Mackensen. She was struck from the ship register and sold for scrap on the same day as her sister ship. She was broken up between 1921-1922 at Deutsch Werke on the Nordmole in Kiel. SMS PRINZ EITEL FRIEDRICH The ship’s keel was laid at the Blohm & Voss yards on 1 May 1915. The work progressed slowly from the start – until it stopped entirely in the summer of 1917 – some 21 month’s work remaining. Never launched, she was not christened – but the name can be found on official correspondence in numerous places. As her predecessors, her name was struck from the register of ships on 17 November 1919, but she remained on the building slip until launched on 13 March 1920 – to clear the slip for other work. The unfinished hull was sold to Fa Kubatz in Hamburg and was broken up between 1920 and 1922. “The remains of Glory” – circa 1921. In this quiet backwater of the Blohm & Voss dockyards lies the residue of a mighty fleet. At lower left, moored along the quay, is the unfinished hull of SMS Prinz Eitel Friedrich. Alongside is the unfinished 15-inch-gun Bayern Class battleship, SMS Wurttemberg. On the right is her unfinished sister-ship, the 15-inch-gun SMS Sachsen. Also visible in front of the big liner on the left is a pair of floating “masting sheers” – often used as a cheap alternative to cantilever cranes. At the end of that line of ships can be seen a large floating dock – even these would be turned over to the “victorious powers” as war reparations. (Note the line of “mooring dolphins” in the center of the basin.) SMS FURST BISMARCK The contract was awarded to the Imperial Dockyards Wilhelmshaven on 18 April 1915, followed by the keel laying on 3 November 1915. She was intended to replace her namesake – the first armored cruiser commissioned into the Kaiserliche Marine in 1900. By the time The Great War ground to its bitter end, the new cruiser was still twenty-six months from completion. Struck from the lists along with her sisters, Furst Bismarck was broken up on the slip, the job finished by 1922. The following four pictures show “what might have been”. Had things gone according to plan, this could have been a typical scene in mid-1918. Three battlecruisers performing “picket duty” in Schillig Roads. Front to back – SMS Moltke, Derfflinger, and Mackensen. But “plans” are only dreams – and not all of them come true. (Battlecruiser models courtesy of @Barroco Hispano. Mooring buoys, tugs, lighters, and channel marker buoys are the work of @AP) The Mackensen Class ships were not the last battlecruiser designs considered by the Imperial Navy, but they were the last ships to even come close to being a reality. At 31,000 tons, they would have been the largest capital ships afloat. The British built faster battlecruisers, but nothing that could have stood up to Mackensen’s 14-inch guns and superb armor suite. And it should be remembered – Beatty’s battlecruisers at Jutland were fast, but that did not save them from taking a severe pounding. It had taken many years and much discussion, but The Imperial German Navy finally produced a capital ship design that was, in almost all respects, superior to their British opponents. It was true – they had declined to mount 15-inch rifles – but the 14-inch shell possessed much greater penetration and a significantly increased bursting charge over that of the 12-inch. The German’s superior gunnery skills would have more than offset the difference. They were handsome warships – long and low – with a towering tripod mast and more closely grouped funnels. Their clean lines bespoke the high speed of powerful engines – and the large, squat, turrets with their massive guns clearly showed her destructive power. Had the Mackensen’s been commissioned, they could well have been the perfect battlecruiser / fast-battleship. If proof is needed of the German ship’s power -- when the British obtained particulars of their design, they countered by laying down the four battlecruisers of the Admiral Class. As The Great War approached its close, three of the British battlecruisers were canceled, and the fourth one was not commissioned until 1920. But she was known the world over as...”The Mighty Hood”. HMS Hood at anchor in the Solent, circa 1924. NEXT TIME…… THE PIPE DREAMS 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 Hindenburg lying at anchor in Schillig Roads – circa late 1917. IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: CUXHAVEN By: Dreadnought & AP Chapter 41: THE THIRD SISTER Just two weeks after SMS Lutzow’s keel was laid, the first meeting to discuss “Grosse Kreuzer – 1913” was held on 31 May 1912. Chief Architect Burkner presented several proposals for improvements to the Derfflinger Class Panzerkreuzer. It was, of course, standard practice for German battlecruisers to be laid down a year apart, even when they were sister-ships of the same class – and it was not uncommon for succeeding sister-ships to be “improved” versions. Burkner placed six proposals before the committee, the most important of which involved alterations to the ship’s main gun turrets. The usual two-stage hoist, carrying powder and shells to the gunhouse, would be replaced with two hoists. A two-stage hoist would continue to carry powder -- but a second, direct hoist, would carry shells to the gunhouse without interruption. This would speed delivery of the projectiles, while reducing the number of times the powder hoist would have to be opened, thereby reducing powder handling hazards. Burkner also wanted to add the built-in 25-foot rangefinders planned for the Bayern Class battleship turrets. Admiral Gerdes was in favor of this change, while suggesting the diesel dynamo rooms (positioned below the munitions chambers) be relocated as a further safety measure. It was estimated the changes would add about 120 tons to the designed displacement. The secondary battery of 5.9-inch guns was to be increased from 14 to 18, while reducing the 3.4-inch guns to eight. Since the small guns were primarily for anti-aircraft purposes, it was thought advisable to increase the ammunition allowance to 350 rounds per gun. This was estimated at another 120 tons added weight. It was Burkner’s intention to equip the cruiser with the new “Type H” 24-inch torpedo. This model could make 30 knots with a range increase from 8,000 to 12,000 yards. The larger caliber torpedo reloads would add 65 tons. At the same time, Burkner wanted to remove the single stern torpedo tube and replace it with an aft torpedo flat deploying two tubes -- one on either beam -- laterally angled at 10-20 degrees. This change was, however, heavily dependent on space and would require the stern to be lengthened by 3 meters -- adding some 300 tons to displacement. Burkner also wanted to increase the battlecruiser’s speed by a half a knot, but withdrew the suggestion. Other department heads pointed out the required machinery, and additional citadel armor to protect it, would add considerable weight and require a major redesign. Finally, Burkner’s last suggestion was to reinforce the torpedo bulkheads to a 2-inch thickness. After some discussion, the State Secretary, Grossadmiral von Tirpitz, ruled out anything requiring a time-consuming redesign – so the secondary battery was kept at 14 guns and the diesel dynamo room would remain where it was. He approved reducing the 3.4-inch guns to eight, but kept the ammunition allowance at 250 rounds per gun. The changes to the main battery gunhouses and the new torpedoes were approved – but not the complicated aft torpedo flat. At the close of the meeting, Tirpitz requested weight and cost figures for the same Grosse Kreuzer, only with four double turrets mounting 14-inch guns. (It is worth noting Tirpitz persisted in arming the battlecruisers with guns one caliber smaller than the 15-inch-gunned Bayern Class battleships.) The Construction Department replied on 9 September 1912 with two studies: one armed with 14-inch guns, and another one with 15-inch guns. Tirpitz, unwilling to take on the higher cost, flatly ruled out the 15-inch option. And -- equally unwilling to accept any increase in size or displacement, the 14-inch gun caliber could only be accommodated by weight reductions in other areas. In the end, the new design studies were unable to completely compensate for weight increases, and the cost was still 33.3 million Marks – 1.8 million more than the estimated 31.5 million Marks spent on Lutzow. “Grosse Kreuzern 1913 – Erstaz Hertha” profile plan. This working sketch of SMS Lutzow was used as a starting basis for the new cruiser and would visually differ very little when done. Tirpitz considered the increases in displacement, and especially in cost, to be too great -- so it was ultimately decided “Grosse Kreuzer - 1913” would be built as the “third sister” of the Derfflinger Class. The final design was approved by His Majesty, the Kaiser, though there would still be a few minor changes made during construction. A quick-loading device for the broadside torpedo flat was designed and installed, and an additional searchlight was added to the foremast. The middle passageway was laid out to take advantage of protective coal bunkers while reducing the close proximity of the 5.9-inch magazines amidships. Increased ventilation was incorporated for the machinery spaces and boiler rooms. She was given fifty additional crewmen, and the central superstructure on the upper deck was lengthened to provide better cabin accommodations. There was a slight increase in displacement, and an effort was made to compensate the loss in speed by fine-tuning her underwater hull lines. The worrisome diesel dynamo rooms, in the end, were taken from beneath the main gun shell rooms and placed on the Hold Deck – removing a fire hazard from the magazine areas. THE OPPOSITION HMS Repulse: Commissioned August 1916 – 27,200 tons – 31.5 knots – 6x15-inch guns – 17x4-inch guns -- 2x21-inch torpedo tubes – armor belt 6 inches. While the discussions, planning, and cost-cutting for “the third sister” went forward, the British were not idle. “Grosse Kreuzer - 1913”, once laid down, would likely join the Hochseeflotte some time in 1916. Unbeknownst to Tirpitz and the Admiralstab – the new Panzerkreuzer would not be commissioned until 1917. By that time, the Royal Navy would posses 4 battlecruisers with 12-inch guns – HMS Inflexible, Indomitable, New Zealand, Australia – and 3 cruisers with 13.5-inch guns – HMS Lion, Princess Royal, and Tiger. If needed as support, they also had the services of the 15-inch-gunned fast battleships of the Queen Elizabeth Class – HMS Queen Elizabeth, Barham, Warspite, Malaya, and Valiant. And between Jutland in May 1916, and the commissioning of the new Imperial Panzerkreuzer in 1917, the British would add 2 battlecruisers of the 15-inch-gunned Renown Class – HMS Renown and Repulse. In the same year, two 15-inch-gunned ships of the Courageous Class (Courageous and Glorious) would also join the fleet. (I mention these last two only to be statistically correct – they were so thinly armored they could never have survived Jutland. Taking them into battle against anything bigger than a light cruiser would have been an act of self-immolation.) That gave the Grand Fleet a total of 11 battlecruisers and 5 fast battleships capable of opposing the German battlecruisers. By contrast, the Hochseeflotte could only muster five battlecruisers – two of which mounted 12-inch guns. Due to the inability of German builders to turn out capital ships quickly, and the Reichstag’s reluctance to pay for them, von Hipper’s 1st Scouting group was hopelessly outnumbered by 1917. And it was only made worse by von Tirpitz’ fear of spending money on Krupp’s excellent SK-L/50 15-inch rifle. HMS Courageous: Commissioned November 1916 – 19,180 tons – 32 knots – 4x15-inch guns – 18x4-inch guns – 2x21-inch torpedo tubes – armor belt 3 inches. With their 3-inch armor belt, the Courageous Class battlecruisers were considered “death traps” by Royal Navy officers. After the war, they were laid-up “in ordinary” and eventually converted to aircraft carriers. Below are three images of Courageous moored to buoys in the Old Harbor Basin where “retired” ships are kept awaiting final disposition. In the first shot, the old harbor wharf was made with an older brick texture, fronted by “WMP” Seawalls, with a shirt factory building repurposed as a large warehouse. The wharf was “dressed-out” with various props from “PEG’s SNM” naval series, dockyard cranes from “Nob’s 1905 Naval Series”, and a “truck-load” of other props by “AP” and various authors. The offshore mooring buoys are by "AP", as are the various lighters and crane barges scattered about. The elderly warships are from “Nob”, and the fine model of Courageous is courtesy of @Barroco Hispano. The remaining two shots give you a close-up of the battlecruiser. You can see the extremely long and narrow hull designed for great speed and providing the length to pack in the extra boilers. The last shot gives you a good detailed view of the model. Note the triple mountings for 4-inch guns adjacent the bridge and the rear of the superstructure deck. The model pictures her as she would have appeared in 1918, with “flying-off” platforms on her main battery turrets for “Sopwith Pups”. (However, NO place to land.) With only four 15-inch guns, Courageous would have been at a severe disadvantage in an engagement with an Imperial battlecruiser. GROSSE KREUZER – 1913 The construction of “Ersatz Hertha’s” hull is well underway. The “wall” running down the center of the ship is the longitudinal bulkhead that will divide the boiler and turbine rooms into separate watertight compartments. Under the terms of the Reichstag Fleet Law Amendment of 1906, an elderly warship could be “retired” after 20 years and automatically replaced. The new ship would be designated in the construction contract with the “Ersatz” (replacement) name of the cruiser that had been “retired”. “Grosse Kreuzer – 1913” would hold the builder’s designation of “Ersatz Herta”, replacing the old protected cruiser of 1898 (see Chapter 2 for details of the old cruiser). On 20 April 1913 the contract was awarded to the Kaiserliche Werft Wilhelmshaven. “Ersatz Hertha’s” keel was laid on 1 October 1913 and she would be launched a shockingly slow twenty-three months later on 1 August 1915. GENERAL CHARACTERISTICS “Ersatz Hertha” – profile plan as she appeared upon completion. Visually, “Hertha” was a near-identical twin of SMS Lutzow, with the exception of a few minor differences. Her funnels and funnel caps do not match – but each of the three battlecruisers could be identified by their unique funnels and caps. Lutzow had a simple pole mast forward, rather than the substantial tripod mast on “Hertha”. Derfflinger only received her tripod mast during the extensive repair period following Jutland. Beyond that, the differences between the two ships i\was limited to “internal” adjustments (see previous text). The “Grosse Kreuzer Ersatz Hertha” was constructed as the third ship of the Derfflinger Class. As such, there were very few differences in the construction methods, materials, and process. Rather than repeat them here, I refer you to Chapter 23 for details – and will discuss only the differences between “Hertha” and her predecessors. At 26,947 tons, her displacement was some 350 tons greater, and the new cruiser’s hull was a bit longer, at 696 feet. The Derfflinger Class had a wider beam than previous battlecruisers, which allowed for better use of internal subdivision, resulting in an enormous capacity to withstand battle damage. But wider hulls invariably increased the “drag co-efficient” – reducing the ship’s speed. Through further testing of the hull form in the hydraulic tanks, it was determined a slight lengthening of the stern would add a half knot to her speed. This resulted in a 2.5 meter increase in “Hertha’s” overall length. Unlike Derfflinger and Lutzow, the new Panzerkreuzer would not be fitted with torpedo nets and booms, nor did she receive “Frahm” roll-damping tanks. After Jutland, Derfflinger was fitted with a very heavily braced tripod mast of unusual height, with a multi-level foretop for gunnery direction. Well supported by the heavy-duty tripod, the foretop structure was spacious compared to previous arrangements and contained a fire direction and control position, a 25-foot rangefinder, a torpedo direction position, and a night observation position. “Hertha” would receive hers during the fitting-out process. The Bayern Class battleships would also be given tripod foremasts, indicating a new trend in Imperial capital ship design. ARMOR For all practical purposes, “Hertha” was given the same superb armor suite as her sister ships, with all the advantages of protective coal bunkers and even more extensive internal compartmentalization. There were, however, four exceptions. The armor on the sloping portions of the main battery turrets was increased from 4.2 inches to 6 inches. The armor belt on the bow was 4 inches, as in Derfflinger and Lutzow, but in “Hertha” it was discontinued 40 feet from the stem and replaced with a more narrow belt of 1.2 inch plating. The thinner plates were riveted to the hull skin, rather than the standard practice of bolting armor plate to the hull. An armored transverse bulkhead was added midway between “A” turret and the stem. In an effort to compensate for the reduced armor thickness at the stem, “Hertha” was given an additional watertight compartment forward (17 in total) to increase the reserve buoyancy of the bow. The designers did not yet have any battle experience to draw upon, so they had no idea they were making a serious problem even worse. ARMAMENT MAIN BATTERY The main battery arrangements of “Ersatz Hertha” were somewhat different from her two sisters. She duplicated the mounting of eight SK-L/50 12-inch rifles in four twin turrets, but they were installed in the Drh-L-C/1913 gunhouse designed for the Bayern Class dreadnoughts. Each turret had a 25-foot rangefinder installed up forward just beneath the armored roof. The old turret hood was replaced by a traversing-bearing telescope mounted between the guns. Two more bearing telescopes were mounted on either side wall of the gunhouse. The designers, in a rather bold move, took it upon themselves to alter the gunhouses for an elevation of -5 to +16 degrees, bringing them into line with foreign navies and providing a maximum range of 20,000 yards. (The US Army has an old saying...”It is easier to ask forgiveness than it is to get permission.”) Instead of the old manual traverse back-up system, an auxiliary electric motor was provided. The major difference between the gunhouses on Derfflinger and Lutzow, and those on “Hertha” was the new ammunition hoist system. Two shell hoists, one for each gun barrel, ran up the center of the barbette trunk from the shell rooms and handling spaces located on the lower platform deck. The top end of the “express” hoist came out between the guns near the trunnions. An auto-loader pushed the shell back onto a loading tray which swung the shell behind the breech. The hydraulic rammer then pushed the shell into the breech. Each hoist could service either gun. The shell hoists could only be accessed at the top or the bottom – and there were flash-proof automatic doors at either end. The powder hoists ran up from the powder magazines on the upper platform deck to the transfer room three levels below the guns. Here the powder charges were switched from the lower hoist to the upper hoist, and then up to the guns. The upper and lower hoists had flash-proof automatic doors fitted. The powder hoists were always designed with two stages so flash explosions could not shoot straight down into the powder magazines. This new arrangement gave shells their own dedicated, “express” hoist, eliminating the need to handle them twice on the way to the guns, and clearing the powder hoists of the extra work. Even with the new arrangement, shells and powder could be delivered to the guns at the rate of three rounds per minute. SECONDARY BATTERY The 5.9-inch batteries remained the same as Lutzow – fourteen SK-L/45 guns in shielded casemates on the battery deck amidships. The only difference in the guns were the mounts. A new mounting pedestal had been designed for the Bayern Class – an MPL-C/1913 – and it was taken for use on “Hertha” as well. There were minor modifications to the location of the elevation and traverse controls, but the mount was shorter, and sat closer to the deck. This made the casemate compartment somewhat smaller and allowed a few extra degrees of elevation (slightly increased range). TERTIARY BATTERY Originally, twelve 3.4-inch SK-L/45 (QF) high-velocity guns were intended for torpedo boat defense. But war experience proved these light guns useless against modern destroyers. (See Chapter 36 for specifics on gun performance.) In the end, four 3.4-inch “Flak” L/45 cannon mounted in MPL-C/1913 mounts were positioned around the forward funnel – two on either beam. As anti-aircraft weapons, they also proved of little use. British aircraft were generally carried by primitive “aircraft tenders” and proved awkward to operate, difficult to handle, unreliable, and generally incapable of seriously damaging a capital ship. TORPEDO ARMAMENT As was customary, “Ersatz Hertha” was fitted with four submerged torpedo tubes arranged in the standard pattern -- one fore and aft, and one on each beam. Sixteen of the new 24-inch “Type H” torpedoes were carried. They had a speed of 30 knots and a range of 12,000 yards, with a warhead containing 463 lbs of TNT. The Kaiserliche Marine favored a modified version of “TNT” as the bursting charge in all their shells, torpedoes, and mines because of its stable composition. Foreign navies, the British in particular, tended toward acid-based explosive compounds like Cordite and Lyddite – which often crystallized over time – and either became volatile or went inert and failed to explode on impact. A newly designed quick-loading device was installed in the broadside torpedo flat (the bow and stern torpedo flats were too small for the device). The propulsion plant – boilers, turbines, shafts, propellers, and rudders – were identical to Lutzow. The fine tuning of the underwater hull lines and the slightly lengthened stern allowed “Hertha” to achieve a speed of 27.5 knots in shallow water, even with the slightly heavier displacement. All other details of the design and construction – anchors, ship’s boats, electrical plant, searchlights, wireless transmitters and receivers – were the same as Lutzow. The “ring drainage system” was similar to Lutzow’s “improved” capacity, but the pumps were located in different positions in the hull. “Ersatz Hertha” would ship a crew of 45 officers and 1,118 men. “Grosse Kreuzer Esatz Hertha” was built to be just as fast, rugged, and powerful as her sister ships. And – if at all possible – her towering tripod mast made her even more handsome and warlike than her predecessors. Unfortunately, all the efforts of the planners and architects were unable to defeat the accountants – she came in at a “wartime inflation” cost of 59 million Marks – 3 million Marks over budget. The unadorned hull of “Ersatz Hertha” slides down the slipway at the Imperial Dockyard Wilhelmshaven with much rumbling and clanking of drag chains. Though it was a simple ceremony, it was a moment of great pride for the workmen and extreme interest for the naval officers. (Note the file of officers on the stairs right of center, bottom.) On 1 August 1915, after twenty-three long months on the builder’s slip, “Grosse Kreuzer Ersatz Hertha” was launched. After war broke out her construction was delayed, mainly due to workforce shortages. But the Admiralstab also assigned a higher priority to building U-Boats and repairing battle damage. Repairing torpedo and mine damage tied down a large part of Germany’s shipyard capacity. The new battlecruiser was christened SMS Hindenburg – in honor of Feldmarschall Paul von Hindenburg. Warships were not usually named after “living” military figures, but Hindenburg was, perhaps, the only nationally recognized “war hero” – and he was born to the Prussian aristocracy. Hindenburg had retired as a General der Infanterie in 1903, but was recalled in 1914 and won many victories on the Eastern Front. He became chief of the Supreme Army Command (OHL) in 1916 and remained as such until his second retirement on 30 June 1919 as a Generalfeldmarschall. As the most respected man in Germany, he was elected President of the Weimar Republic in 1925 and held the post until his death at age 86 on 2 August 1934. Though SMS Hindenburg was moved directly from the slipway to the fitting-out basin, work proceeded slowly, and she would remain there for another twenty-one months. In June 1916, an unusual delay occurred when specialized building materials and fabricated sections were “borrowed” to repair Derfflinger after Jutland. Judging by previous warship construction, they could have shaved a year off her time on the slipway, and another year off the fitting-out process. The delay was intolerable, and was responsible for Hindenburg’s absence at Jutland. This is an overhead shot – quite possibly taken from a Zeppelin. SMS Hindenburg has slid down the ways of the large construction slip visible in the left of the picture. The construction slips and dry docks of the Kaiserliche Werft construction yard are laid out along the west and north sides of what is the Inner Basin area of Wilhelmshaven. Hindenburg’s repair or maintenance will be carried out in the large dry dock basins to the right, or in one of several large floating docks built to accommodate the larger dreadnought capital ships. Tugs will push Hindenburg down to the “fitting-out” quay at lower left. Due to the somewhat limited facilities at Wilhelmshaven, it was only possible to have one capital ship building, and one fitting-out, at any given time. In this shot, Hindenburg has been moved from the fitting-out quay to one of the larger repair basins for the final stages of her completion. You can see the heavy work – gun turrets, superstructure, masts, and funnels have been completed. There are numerous small, but essential jobs – mostly interior finishing to be done – but there is no large work force, nor any sign of urgency. This is a 3-D artist’s view of SMS Hindenburg as she would have appeared at the time of commissioning. You can see the long, low, profile of the Derfflinger Class has been dramatically altered with the addition of the heavy and unusually tall tripod foremast. Note the large foretop fire control and spotting position. The overall design concentrates the above deck structures in a compact grouping between the gun turrets, while the long, low, hull gives her the look of a greyhound – lean and fast. The addition of the tripod mast only adds to her majestic proportions and elegant lines. SEA TRIALS Commissioned into the Kaiserliche Marine on 10 May 1917, Hindenburg was given to the battle-tested Kapitan zur See von Karpf, the commanding officer of SMS Moltke at Jutland. The new cruiser lay alongside the coaling and munitions piers from 10-21 May, while stores and fresh provisions were taken aboard from lighters. As the goods were stored below, preparations were made to begin sea trials. Unfortunately, Hindenburg’s official trials report did not survive WW II, but Kapitan von Karpf wrote several progress reports for the Admiralstab which are still extant. With the morning tide on 22 May, Hindenburg weighed and passed through the III lock to Wilhelmshaven Roads where compass deviation was determined, followed by engine and steering maneuver tests. Satisfied with her maneuverability, three torpedo boats from the 14th Flotilla assumed escort duties, and von Karpf set course for the mouth of the Elbe River at 18 knots. She anchored overnight in Altenbruch Roads and on the following day made the transit of the Kaiser Wilhelm I Canal, arriving in the Kieler Hafen by late evening. Hindenburg spent 24-29 May in the hands of the Imperial Dockyard Kiel while her machinery was checked and adjustments made. Newly commissioned, SMS Hindenburg is moored at the Munitions Quay”, working quickly to take aboard her “full combat load” so her sea trials can begin. The turret crews are loading shells and powder charges over the port side, while a work detail is preparing to take aboard ship’s stores and fresh provisions over the starboard rail. All of the lighters and tugboats in this picture are the work of “AP”, while his props are – quite literally – all over the munitions complex. Below is another view of the same scene. The staggeringly detailed model of the battlecruiser SMS Hindenburg is the exquisite work of @AP – and is, without doubt, the finest work he has yet produced!! SMS Hindenburg running the “measured mile” in the Kleinen Belt. She is putting out a great deal of smoke and raising a huge bow wave – as well as a turbulent wake (due to shallow water). At 07:00 on 30 May 1917, the Panzerkreuzer put to sea to begin trials in the western Baltic. Two separate forced-draft trials were run to test the operation of the supplemental oil-firing for the boilers. The ship reached 64,862shp and achieved a sustained speed of 25.49 knots. The morning of 4 June, the cruiser ran out for a “measured mile” speed trial in the Kleinen Belt, during which it was noted the condensers were running “warm” – indicating a retarded flow of steam to the turbines. From 1-5 June she was in dockyard hands to correct the problem, while the traversing works of “C” and “D” turrets were tested. On 11 June, Hindenburg returned to the Kleinen Belt for a re-test on the “measured mile”. This time, her engines developed 95,777shp and attained a speed of 26.7 knots. Since the Kleinen Belt is fairly shallow, it was estimated Hindenburg could easily make 28.5 knots in deep water -- without resorting to boiler overloading. During the high speed test, Hindenburg “dug-in”, taking considerable water across the fantail. From 17-20 June, Hindenburg was moored quayside while aircraft handling equipment was installed. The idea had been added during construction, and the plan called for two twin-engine floatplanes to be shipped on either beam, abaft the second funnel. Hindenburg has been moored at the Cuxhaven repair docks while mechanics work on the overheated steam condensers. The steam pipes could be blocked by construction debris, or the pipes may need to be rerouted to improve the flow pattern and steam dispersal. The repair ship Vestal has moored alongside to support any heavy work, while a machinist’s barge has been brought over to help with the precision fitting needs. This angle shows the new tripod foremast with its spacious fire control top. This second view clearly shows the additional length at the stern and the streamlined hull form. The Steam tug Goliath, standing by the machinists barge, is courtesy of @Barroco Hispano. The building on the barge is by “Nob”, while the barges, dockside cranes, small boats, tugboats, and lighters are all by “AP”. The wonderful repair ship Vestal is also by “AP”. And the absolutely fantastic battlecruiser is the handsomely crafted, scratch-built, work of @AP. SMS Hindenburg on the gunnery range. Kapitan von Karpf has worked up to full speed and has opened fire with the main battery on his second run. On 21 June, the wind was from the WSW, force 3, with light cloud as Hindenburg weighed and put to sea for gunnery trials. The main batteries opened fire at 09:45 and continued at a slow and deliberate pace until 14:15 that afternoon. The following day the 5.9-inch secondary batteries were tested between 08:45 and 13:00. On 27 June, His Highness the Grossherzog (Grand Duke) Friedrich-Franz von Mecklenburg-Schwerin was received on board for a tour of the ship and luncheon with the officers. Beginning 18 July, 1st Scouting Group arrived in Kiel and Hindenburg joined them for unit maneuver training. This was followed by torpedo firing practice and main and secondary gunnery practice on the ranges. SMS Hindenburg was officially detached from trials on 20 August 1917, and the squadron shifted to the Mecklenburg Bight to carry out more maneuvers and towed-target gunnery. The Panzerkreuzer remained there until 11 October, when they returned to the Kieler Hafen. SMS Seydlitz (foreground) followed by SMS Hindenburg during squadron maneuvers with the 1st Scouting Group in Mecklenburg Bight. On 15 October, 1st Scouting Group again ran out for training with torpedo boat flotillas. It gave the torpedo boats station-keeping practice cruising with the big ships, while each of the two flotillas took turns making mock-attacks on them. The squadron anchored in the Kieler Hafen that afternoon, and Vizeadmiral Hipper was received on board Hindenburg. He toured the ship and dined with the officers, discussing their opinions of the new warship. During his inspection, he gave special attention to the new ammunition hoist system – climbing around “B” turret like a young naval cadet. At 22:43 on 25 October, SMS Hindenburg entered the south lock at Holtenau and made the transit of the Kaiser Wilhelm I canal, arriving in Brunsbuttel around 11:20 the following morning. There was a bit of fog, so von Karpf secured the services of a pilot boat and continued to the mouth of the Elbe. Once clear of the river, speed was increased to 18 knots and Hindenburg arrived in the Jade at 16:35. Later that evening, Hindenburg received orders assigning her to 1st Scouting Group, and ran into the dockyard for more minor adjustments and some “finish work” that needed to be done. OPERATIONAL HISTORY SMS Hindenburg was the last battlecruiser, and the last dreadnought, commissioned into the Kaiserliche Marine. She was fully operational by 20 August 1917, but the war had only fifteen months to run before the guns went silent. There would be no more major action at sea, and Hindenburg’s career would be both mundane and short. With trials out of the way, the big cruiser settled into the tedious routine of pulling picket duty in the Jade, being on short notice for raising steam (back-up for picket ships), or being in dockyard hands for periodic maintenance. There were no peacetime cruises as in days past – though the new battleship SMS Baden, escorted by Derfflinger, did carry the Kaiser on a Royal visit to Heligoland Island in August 1917. Training exercises were frequent, but were held in the western Baltic or confined to areas of the German Bight protected by minefields. And there was, of course, the occasional enemy intrusion on this tiresome monotony. In the wee hours of the morning on 17 November, SMS Hindenburg was on picket duty in Schillig Roads when a message was received to assume a state of “increased readiness”. There was a reconnaissance by minesweepers (light cruisers in support) in progress in the Bight – scouting out some recently laid British minefields. The Germans were eager to clear the mines, but the British had been particularly active in the area, and they were unsure what they might run into. As a precaution, Kapitan von Karpf ordered all boilers to be lit-off and steam raised for sailing as soon as possible. At 08:51 a wireless came in from the light cruiser SMS Konigsberg...”Enemy light forces in grid square 058 Alpha.” This was followed four minutes later with...”Enemy heavy units in support – 3 battlecruisers – cruisers and destroyers.” Orders went out to Hindenburg and Moltke to standby, and at 09:40 they were ordered to weigh and put to sea in support of the German light forces. Five boats of the XII Torpedo Boat Flotilla tore down the Jade’s deep water channel to get out ahead and form a screen for the big ships. Within minutes, Hindenburg, followed by Moltke, swept down the channel at 15 knots – visibility was just 5 miles. SMS Hindenburg moving to support German light forces operating in the Heligoland Bight. As seen from SMS Moltke. By 10:45, the Panzerkreuzer were passing War Light Vessel “A” off the Jade, making 23 knots. Around 11:16 the wind shifted slightly and a haze began to settle-in to the north and west. With visibility down to 2 miles, Hindenburg increased to 26 knots and gradually pulled ahead of Moltke, who’s best speed was only 23 knots (dirty bottom – bad coal). At 12:10, ships came in sight ahead on both bows and lookouts identified SMS Kaiser and Kaiserin. German torpedo boats could be seen ahead with light cruisers off the starboard bow. Konteradmiral von Reuter signaled Hindenburg and Moltke to fall-in astern and von Karpf took station off the battleship’s starboard quarter. They maintained course NW until 12:40 when a wireless from the Flottenchef (Scheer) ordered the battleships back to the Jade. Vizeadmiral Souchon (returned from Turkey) ordered the battlecruisers to continue scouting to the NW, and they did, until recalled around 15:00. Hindenburg and Moltke dropped anchor in Schillig Roads at 19:45 without sighting a single enemy. It is just as well. The British had been laying minefields close around the German Bight in an attempt to hinder German surface units, and especially U-Boats, from getting into the North Sea. The raid was supposed to discourage German mine-sweeping activity. HMS Renown, Courageous, Glorious, and a light cruiser squadron were to carry out the attack -- supported at a distance by the 1st Battle Squadron of the Grand Fleet. The British charged out of the haze just after sun-up and opened fire. The German minesweepers instantly scattered and laid a very effective smoke screen as they withdrew. Repulse landed one 15-inch shell on the light cruiser Konigsberg and raced ahead at 31 knots to close on her prey – when a great cloud of black smoke was seen rising to the SE. That could only mean one thing – battleships. Repulse quickly put about, recalled her light cruisers and destroyers, and withdrew into the NW haze. On 23 November, Vizeadmiral von Hipper transferred from SMS Seydlitz to SMS Hindenburg, and in a brief ceremony, his flag was hoisted to her forepeak. Hindenburg would remain flagship of the 1st Scouting Group until 21 June 1919. Beyond that bit of naval protocol, Hindenburg’s existence continued in the mundane and tiresome duties of a fleet in harbor: picket duty – escorting minesweepers – squadron evolutions – visits to the dockyard – and, the occasional “war patrol.” SMS Hindenburg on a visit to the dockyard. She is seen here, cradled in one of the large floating docks. Typically, one or two Panzerkreuzer, accompanied by light cruisers and torpedo boats, might sail westward and scout the “Hoofden” area off the Dutch coast in hopes of surprising some British shipping or light forces. Or – they might even run out to the Dogger Bank and scatter British light forces interfering with German minesweeping operations. Even if nothing momentous was achieved, it allowed the battlecruisers some time at sea and gave them practice operating in the wartime environment. In the later part of 1917, Admiral Scheer began harassing the Norwegian convoys to and from Britain. The Royal Navy had begun providing convoy escorts at least a year earlier to keep U-Boats away from the vital cargoes bound for Britain. After Jutland, Scheer was desperate to find some way to hit back at the British while proving the Hochseeflotte was still relevant to the German war effort. On 17 October, the fast minelaying light cruisers SMS Brummer and Bremse intercepted an east-bound convoy of twelve freighters and two destroyers – HMS Mary Rose and Strongbow. The convoy scattered while the German cruisers were distracted by the escorts, but they managed to sink both destroyers and hunt down nine of the freighters before withdrawing at high speed. On 12 December, four German torpedo boats ambushed another convoy of five freighters, again with two escorting destroyers. All five freighters were lost along with one destroyer. Admiral Sir David Beatty, new C.-in-C. Grand Fleet, could not afford to keep losing destroyers, and was equally reluctant to risk light cruisers. He decided battleships would quickly put an end to the German nuisance raids and attached a Battle Squadron of eight ships to the escort force. This quickly became known to the Admiralstab, and just as quickly, it was seen as the opportunity for which they had been waiting all along. At long last, a manageable portion of the British battle fleet might be isolated and destroyed. This is a view of SMS Hindenburg moored at her berth along the breakwater in Cuxhaven’s roadsted. Built as one of three Derfflinger Class battlecruisers, she is nearly identical to SMS Lutzow. The only visible differences are the tripod foremast with fighting top, and the “cosmetic” appearance of her funnels. You will note, as flagship of Scouting Forces, she is flying a Vizeadmiral’s flag at the forepeak. And -- she is the largest, last, and finest, of all the Imperial battlecruisers. The breakwaters are by “Uki”, and the modified mooring points are by “Mattb325”. The gunboat USS Erie, patrolling off the breakwater, is courtesy of “Barroco Hispano”. The motor launch off the port beam, the boat boom and small boats, the harbor tug with provision lighter – and the superbly crafted model of the SMS Hindenburg is the meticulous work of “AP”. BELOW is a close-up of the detail work on SMS Hindenburg. The massive gun turrets are authentic in every detail, right down to the German version of the “Carley Floats” on their sides. The new tripod foremast and fire control fighting top are clearly visible, with a new black paint scheme for the upper portions. The “signature” boat booms (cranes) and “Kingston Posts” are intricately detailed constructions, and each of the ship’s boats is an individual “work of art” in itself. The soot-stained funnels, weathered decking, and weathered hull are details that are often overlooked. The level of detail is magnificent – and this model is his best work – with more to come. Vizeadmiral von Hipper was tasked with planning the operation and he fell back on the old reliable methods. With the light cruisers of 2nd Scouting Group screening ahead, the Panzerkreuzer of 1st Scouting Group would form the advance screen and convoy strike force. If there were no battleships in the escort, the battlecruisers would make short work of the convoy. If there were British battleships present, Hipper would signal the Hochseeflotte – waiting to the south – just below the horizon. Scheer would outnumber the British battle squadron by nearly 3 to 1. The only real difference in the operational planning was that Hipper imposed strict wireless restrictions on the fleet prior to and during the operation. There would be no gossip on the airwaves. On 23 April 1918, at 05:00, 2nd Scouting Group, followed by 1st Scouting Group cleared the Jade and steered north along the swept channels. But the weather was terrible, with patches of thick fog limiting visibility to as little as 200 meters, and only two and a half miles at best. Navigating minefield channels in such conditions was insanity. Both scouting groups anchored at 11:35, but resumed course and speed at 12:10. By midnight, the two scouting groups had cleared all the British-laid minefields and increased speed to 18 knots. Morning of 24 April dawned bright with a NE breeze and visibility of 34 to 46 miles. Around 09:00 Hipper swung Hindenburg about and led Derfflinger and Seydlitz back to Moltke, lying dead in the water – some fifty miles SW of Bergen, Norway. SMS Moltke had thrown her inboard, starboard propeller, and before the turbines could be shut down, the shaft ran away and caused the couplings to shatter – sending large chunks of metal slicing through the ship. Several boilers were disabled, the hull had been holed and was making water, and only one turbine could be operated. The crew plugged the leak, began sorting out the boilers, and made temporary repairs that would get the ship underway at 4 knots. Fortunately, the main body of the Hochseeflotte drew abreast around 10:25, and the battleship SMS Oldenburg was ordered to take the crippled battlecruiser under tow for the Jade. With Moltke in good hands, Hipper turned north once more in search of the British convoy. By 13:10, 1st Scouting Group was about 60 miles west of Bergen, Norway. Hipper steered a search pattern across the known course of the previous convoys three times. At the top leg of the third pass, he searched about 20 miles farther north, then swung 10 miles inshore and, steering SSE, passed within 40 miles of the fjord mouth. But to no avail – no merchant ships nor warships. It was now past the usual sailing time for the convoys – so they had either sailed early, or canceled the sailing. Hipper swung Hindenburg due south, recalled 2nd Scouting Group from their search pattern, and set course for the Jade. A brief, code-word signal was sent to Scheer, who promptly turned the battle fleet about and also made for Wilhelmshaven. About 01:00 on 25 April, SMS Oldenburg, with Moltke in tow, came into view under a bright moon in a cloudless sky. By this time, Moltke’s crew had made repairs to the engines and the towed battlecruiser was making 13 knots. Hipper reduced speed and 1st Scouting Group took station on the seaward flank of the tow to provide security for the journey home. The group made steady progress southward until about 12:10, when a minesweeper in advance of the group, M-67, struck a mine, broke in half, and sank. Later, around 19:37, Moltke (under tow) was approaching Amrum Bank Passage and the entrance to the German defensive minefields. She was struck in the port side engine room by a torpedo fired from the British submarine E-42. The battlecruiser took on nearly 1,800 tons of water and began listing to port. Kapitan zur See Gygas knew his pumps were holding the water in check, so he maneuvered Moltke into the Amrum Bank Passage and gained the safety of the defensive minefields. Eventually four salvage tugs arrived and helped pump out the flooded compartments, then two of them were lashed alongside, while a third took over the tow from Oldenburg. Around 03:20 on 26 April 1st Scouting Group dropped anchor in Wilhelmshaven Roads, and Moltke went into dry dock soon after daybreak. It was later determined the German agent in Bergen had gotten his information wrong. The convoy was actually scheduled to sail on 25 April – twenty-four hours after Hipper’s visit. But – Hipper’s ban on wireless traffic before and during the sortie proved quite effective. The canny Bavarian had pinpointed the weakness in German operational security. The Room 40 code-breakers in Whitehall never had the slightest notion the Hochseeflotte was loitering about off Norway. A great deal has been written by historians to prove Jutland put the “fear of God” into the Germans and they never again ventured to sea after the battle. The truth, however, is far less complimentary to the British, and a lot less provocative to the Germans. In fact, the entire nature of The Great War at sea changed after Jutland. Submarines and mines were considered far too dangerous in the confined waters of the North Sea. German submarines had become a positive menace to merchant shipping and warships alike. After the battle, Jellicoe arbitrarily decided the Grand Fleet could no longer be risked in the southern portions of the North Sea – it was too close to German submarine bases and too easily mined by German light forces. For his part, Scheer devoted much money and many man-hours to keeping lanes swept through the British-laid minefields, and his warships were constantly stalked by British submarines. The Norwegian sortie proved the German battle fleet could, and would, put to sea – but only when they thought an ambush was possible. The German heavy ships went to sea quite frequently, and sortied outside their own territory, but mostly kept in waters where they could not be easily surprised. So the two greatest battle fleets in the world kept to their own portion of the North Sea – or rode at anchor in “checkmate” of one another. But events in the land war continued to move forward, regardless of the stalemate at sea. And anyone in a position of command knew the war could not last much longer. The British naval blockade had strangled German trade and access to foodstuffs and raw materials – the nation would soon collapse. On 11 August 1918, Hipper was promoted to full Admiral and given command of the Hochseeflotte. Konteradmiral Ludwig von Reuter assumed command of 1st Scouting Group, hoisting his flag aboard SMS Hindenburg the following day. Scheer, having been promoted Chief of the Naval Staff, was determined to inflict as much damage as possible on the Royal Navy in order to obtain a better bargaining position in a negotiated peace. It was early October 1918, and at this point in the game, Scheer was no longer concerned about possible losses to the Hochseeflotte. Scheer’s plan involved two simultaneous raids. One, with torpedo boats and a light cruiser squadron, was to attack British warships operating off the Flanders coast. The other strike by more torpedo boats and light cruisers was to be supported by the Panzerkreuzer of 1st Scouting Group – and would be aimed at the massed shipping in the Thames estuary. No one had attacked the Thames estuary since the Dutch raided the Medway in 1667. This was a spectacularly bold move – guaranteed to bring Beatty and the Grand Fleet south. Once the raids had caused the maximum damage and confusion, the two strike forces would retire and rendezvous with the battle squadrons of the Hochseeflotte. Somewhere off the Texel or Terschelling, Hipper and the Hochseeflotte would offer battle to the Royal Navy. As the Hochseeflotte began to concentrate in the Jade, war-weary sailors became aware of the suicidal nature of the coming operation, and began to jump-ship in large numbers. As Derfflinger and Von der Tann passed through the III Lock into the roadsted, over 300 men from the two ships climbed over the side and disappeared ashore. By 29 October the capital ship crews were in full mutiny and the planned operation was abandoned. Events moved quickly as news of the mutiny spread. Demonstrations and outright riots broke out across Germany, and on 9 November, Kaiser Wilhelm II abdicated both the Imperial and Prussian thrones. On 10 November Wilhelm took a train across the Dutch border and went into exile – where he remained, rather well-off, until his death at age 82, in June 1941. On 11 November 1918, the Armistice was signed and the blood-letting stopped. In less than two weeks, 500 years of Hohenzollern rule over Prussia ceased, and the Imperial German Empire became the Wiemar Republic. Under the terms of the Armistice, the bulk of the Imperial Fleet was to be interned at Scapa Flow pending further disposition by a formal treaty. On 21 November 1918, fifteen capital ships (to include all of the battlecruisers), seven light cruisers, and 50 modern torpedo boats, departed German waters for an unknown fate. Prior to departure, Admiral Adolf von Trotha (Admiralstab) made it clear to Konteradmiral von Reuter (commanding), that the interned ships were not to be seized by anyone – under any circumstances. The German fleet remained in an uneasy captivity during the Versailles peace negotiations -- until a copy of the London “Times” informed Reuter the Armistice was to expire at noon on 21 June 1919. This was, of course, the deadline by which Germany was to have signed the peace treaty. But Reuter decided the British intended to seize the German fleet once the Armistice expired. With no ammunition, he could not defend the ships, and they had insufficient coal to reach Germany. The only means to prevent seizure was to scuttle the ships when an opportunity presented itself. Early on the morning of 21 June, the Grand Fleet steamed out of Scapa Flow to conduct training maneuvers. (Yet another blunder by Beatty.) Around 10:00, Reuter made a flag signal ordering the German ships to stand by – and at 11:20 the order to scuttle was sent by semaphore and searchlight. Actions were taken immediately. Seacocks and flood valves were opened, water pipes smashed, porthole scuttles and watertight doors opened, and even condenser covers were removed to facilitate flooding. Without going into the sad details, 15 capital ships, 5 light cruisers, and 32 torpedo boats settled to the bottom of Scapa Flow. SMS Hindenburg was the last to go down around 17:00. Among the capital ships, only the battleship Baden failed to sink – boarded by the British before it was too late. Within the space of a few hours, the second largest Navy in the world all but ceased to exist. Rightly or wrongly – the Imperial Navy officers had performed the only act of defiance within their power. Defeated in war – but not in battle – they could only preserve their honor through destroying the Hochseeflotte by their own hand. By 17:00 on 21 June 1919, this is all of SMS Hindenburg that remained above water. Her Kapitan scuttled the vessel on an even keel – making it easier for the crew to escape. She was raised 11 years later and scrapped at Rosyth. Her ship’s bell was returned to the Bundesmarine in 1959. NEXT TIME…… THE LAST DREAMS OF EMPIRE 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 Konig – lead ship of a class of four – Grosser Kurfurst, Markgraf, Kronprinz – they were the most modern Imperial dreadnought battleships at the Battle of Jutland, 31 May 1916. Konig led the powerful III Battle Squadron in the van of the Hochseeflotte and suffered the most damage of all the German battleships. IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: CUXHAVEN By: Dreadnought & AP Chapter 40: IF THE TRUTH BE TOLD... With the damaged ships repaired, all traces of the traumatic battle were, for the most part, erased. But it took months of time and countless man-hours worked around the clock to make that happen. When the last rivet was hammered home and the last coat of paint applied, The Great War at sea returned to pretty much what it had been before the Battle of Jutland. But what remained was a question that has been contested by naval officers and debated by historians for over a century: Who won the Battle of Jutland? And the controversy surrounding this over-simplified question began almost as soon as the first returning ship’s anchor touched the seabed. At noon on 2 June, German authorities issued a press release claiming victory -- including sinking a British battleship, two battlecruisers, two armored cruisers, a light cruiser, a submarine, and several destroyers. (The claims are, of course, inaccurate – but probably honest. In confused battles it is possible to make such mistakes.) The statement also admitted to the loss of SMS Pommern and Wiesbaden (a pre-dreadnought battleship and a light cruiser). The scuttling of Lutzow, Elbing and Rostock was unknown to the British and withheld as a matter of military intelligence. The “Victory of the Skagerrak” was lauded in the press, school children were given a holiday, and the whole nation celebrated. The Kaiser addressed the fleet on 5 June, proudly showering “his” navy with Iron Crosses and announcing a new chapter in world history...”the magic of Trafalgar has been broken”. (The Imperial government originally claimed a victory on the basis of being the smaller battle fleet, while sinking more ships than the British. Post-war official Germany chose to hail the battle as a victory, and continued to celebrate it until the late 1960’s. The “Skaggerak Victory” was mainly used as a means to suppress the disgraceful memory of the German naval mutiny of 1918-1919, as well as a means to salvage wounded pride after defeat in World War I). His Majesty Kaiser Wilhelm II addresses the assembled officers of the Hochseeflotte from the deck of SMS Grosser Kurfurst (just aft of “B” turret). It should be noted he is wearing the uniform of a Grosseadmiral – complete with red sea boots and the “baton” of a GrosseAdmiral. He was overjoyed to think he had beaten the mighty Royal Navy. (A detail from a Claus Bergen painting.) In Britain, the first news came from boasting German wireless broadcasts..."The result of the fighting is a significant success for our forces against a much stronger adversary". Then, warships began to arrive in British ports, many damaged – some heavily and visibly -- and their crews had stories to tell. Slowly, the British public began to realize the Royal Navy had not delivered a “second Trafalgar”, and quickly became suspicious and angry as the Admiralty remained ominously silent. The government considered suppressing the news, but realized this was no longer possible. Late evening on 2 June, the Admiralty released a rather laconic statement containing nothing more than the losses on each side. The following day, based on that communique, British newspapers reported a German victory -- and the British population was thunder-struck. On 3 June, the Admiralty issued a statement expanding on German losses – with another the following day making grossly exaggerated claims. But they were far too late and no one believed the exaggerated claims anyway. At this point, it must be remembered both Britain and Germany had lavished billions in taxpayer funds on their battle fleets, and a victory (even a conditional one) was needed to justify those expenditures. But -- in an even more tragic development, the wrath of the British public would be shifted onto the Army when July brought horrific losses at the Battle of the Somme. However – there is some justification for both sides at Jutland to claim a victory, of one sort or another. For the Kaiserliche Marine there were several points in their favor: (1) The loss tables (previous chapter) clearly demonstrated the Germans sank more ships than did the British. The 99 ships of the Hochseeflotte sank 117,000 tons of British warships, while the 151 ships of the Grand Fleet sank only 63,000 tons of German warships. (2) It can be argued the Germans sank three modern battlecruisers for the loss of only one of their own. (The loss of Pommern was of no great consequence. It was certainly sad and tragic – but the pre-dreadnought battleship was obsolete, of little combat value, and had no business being at Jutland.) (3) All damaged German ships were repaired and returned to service with the fleet. (4) The British had been prevented from achieving a decisive victory comparable to Trafalgar. (5) The Germans had preserved their battle fleet and Alfred Thayer Mahan’s strategic doctrine of “a fleet in being”. (6) An intact Hochseeflotte in the Jade discouraged the British from making amphibious landings on the German coast – either the North Sea or the Pomeranian beaches of the Baltic. (7) Scheer’s withdrawal from the battle was not viewed as a mark of defeat. The Admiralstab had always known Britain’s margin of superiority was too great to challenge in a stand-up fleet engagement. When surprised by Jellicoe, Scheer merely followed strategic doctrine and withdrew in the face of superior numbers. However, the destruction of 3 British battlecruisers could be considered an “ambush victory”. (The very thing Jellicoe had warned Beatty against.) (8) By mid-1916, German leadership (including the Kaiser) had begun to think in terms of a “negotiated” peace. A largely intact Hochseeflotte would be a powerful bargaining chip at the negotiating table. Scheer’s withdrawal at Jutland preserved that option. SMS Von der Tann as she would have appeared circa 1915. Von der Tann was the first “Grosse Kreuzer” commissioned into the Kaiserliche Marine and the progenitor of the “so-called” battlecruisers of the Imperial Navy. She was, in fact, the first warship to demonstrate the successful merger between the large cruiser and the battleship – the “fast-battleship”. The detail in this superb 3-D graphic is well worth careful examination. On the British side: (1) The “risk theory” was discounted. Admiral Tirpitz had built the Hochseeflotte based on the “risk theory”. He hoped to build enough battleships to threaten the British with unacceptable losses -- possibly reducing Britain to a second or third class naval power. At Jutland, British capital ships outnumbered the Germans nearly 2 to 1. The British were not the ones “at risk” – the Germans were. So much for the “risk theory”. (2) The Germans failed in their tactical objective of destroying a substantial portion of the Grand Fleet. (Though sinking three battlecruisers is a pretty good start.) (3) The British prevented the Germans from breaking the economic blockade of Germany, which would eventually strangle their “home front” and bring the war to a close in late 1918. (4) The Royal Navy maintained control of the sea lanes, exercising Alfred Thayer Mahan’s dictum of “sea control” to Britain’s fullest benefit – while Germany was confined to the Heligoland Bight and the Baltic Sea. HMS Lion leading the “Splendid Cats” into battle. Based on the facts, and in light of subsequent actions by the British and German fleets, it is obvious there was no clear-cut victor. In this instance, both the Grand Fleet and the Hochseeflotte could claim to have partially satisfied their objectives – notably without crippling losses. The Germans clearly won a “tactical” victory. Everything they accomplished had either limited political ramifications, or was directly tied to the operation of a battle fleet at a tactical level. The Imperial battlecruisers were magnificent weapons superbly handled by Hipper, and accounted for all three capital ships lost by the British. German gunnery, as a whole, was far superior to that of the British. The battle line of the Hochseeflotte was a tight and well-controlled formation that responded quickly to command signals. And through it all, the various German squadrons worked in close cooperation with one another. The British lost the “tactical” Battle of Jutland for a number of reasons. Beatty and his battlecruisers managed to perform brilliantly in the last few minutes before the battleships opened fire on one another – but those were the only few minutes. Early in the battle, Beatty nullified the advantage of longer range guns by allowing Hipper to close to a range suited to him – and then open fire first. Then he threw away his greatest advantage in failing to coordinate his two squadrons (only ten ships) during “the run to the south” and “the run to the north”. And after Scheer’s second “battle turn away” he failed to reestablish contact with the enemy. At age 57, Jellicoe was undoubtedly a creature of the Victorian Era navy. Regardless of his innate intelligence and abundance of technical knowledge, he and his captains were finely crafted products of the rigid and class-conscious hierarchy of the Royal Navy. None above the rank of captain could be called dashing, bold, or heroic – but they had spent a lifetime perfecting the craft of handling ships and men – and none would flinch at the sound of the guns. Jellicoe handled his battle fleet with a calm and considered skill, outmaneuvered Scheer twice, and overwhelmed his enemy with “fire superiority”. But the Grand Fleet was cumbersome and not nearly as agile or responsive as the Hochseeflotte – so there were no bold plans nor elaborate maneuvers. And Jellicoe’s captains had not been sufficiently impressed with the need to keep the flagship informed. But I can say with all confidence that no man in the Royal Navy could have handled the fleet better than Jellicoe. Unlike Beatty, Jellicoe knew a simple “tactical” victory would not be enough. Due to his quick thinking and cool judgment, the British won the all-important “strategic” victory at Jutland. When the smoke cleared, Britannia still ruled the waves and controlled the North Sea – more or less. The day after the battle, Jellicoe was ready to put to sea with a powerful battle fleet – and the Germans were beginning to think it might not be wise to run such risks. Grand Fleet at sea, early 1914. There is, perhaps, a more pertinent question than who won the Battle of Jutland. Most historians have approached the subject from a simple and uncomplicated viewpoint: there was a battle – so there MUST be a winner. But there is more to be considered. Was it possible in 1916 to achieve any sort of decisive result between two modern dreadnought battle fleets? Or was it, in fact, impossible for two such technically advanced battle fleets to achieve any result remotely resembling Trafalgar? There were approximately 260 ships engaged at Jutland, spread over many miles of ocean. Were the means of communication then available to the two commanders capable of controlling long battle lines and far-flung cruiser groups? And what about the unanticipated effect of poor visibility on the “command” function? The vast quantity of funnel and gunsmoke from nearly 300 warships made it impossible for either Admiral to see more than ten or twelve ships at any given moment. The Hochseeflotte did a fairly professional job with their flag signals, searchlights, and wireless traffic – and managed a fairly tight formation. But Jellicoe’s line-ahead formation for his long and ponderous battle fleet was more necessity than choice. Any effort at a complicated envelopment of the German fleet was beyond his limited visibility and signaling capabilities. In the decade before The Great War, dreadnought technology and tactics had developed by leaps and bounds – forced along at a mind-boggling, frantic, pace. Jutland may be the proof it had exceeded human capabilities to control it. The years after Jutland produced many volumes of literature – especially between the wars. Most books were written by one major player or another, some staunchly defending their actions, while others tried to blame someone else for their failings. After WW II, the senior commanders were dead, and an entirely new generation of writers began examining Jutland with unbiased eyes. Though there is a new Jutland book every few years, none have yet produced a clear consensus as to who was victorious – or if there was a victor at all. The battle is now widely viewed as indecisive, and this view remains influential. There has, of late, been a literary trend proclaiming the battle the “last hurrah” of the Dreadnought Era, and therefore of little significance. (There is always a “new school of thought”, every five or ten years, that feel it necessary to rewrite the knowledge on Robert E. Lee, Erwin Rommel, or the Battle of Waterloo.) The “new school” believes battleships became irrelevant with the coming of mines, torpedoes, and submarines, and Jutland merely proved it. That is simply WRONG. By 1916 the floating mine had come of age, but the submarine and torpedo were still primitive and unreliable. Neither weapon, though useful, proved particularly deadly at Jutland. The battleship coexisted alongside mines, torpedoes, and submarines for the first four decades of the 20th Century and continued to be the measure of a nation’s naval power. Numbers of battleships were built between the wars -- largely due to the “old school” influence of the “battleship admirals”. And it was only in 1940 at the Battle of Taranto, 1941 at Pearl Harbor -- and the loss of HMS Prince of Wales and Repluse in the South China Sea -- that the battleship was supplanted by the aircraft carrier. But in 1916, submarines and torpedoes were both new and largely untried, proved difficult to operate, and were frequently unreliable. For the record – was the Battle of Jutland indecisive? Quite possibly – because the status quo hardly changed. But the dreadnought battleship and the Battle of Jutland – were ABSOLUTELY relevant to their time and place. The 5th Battle Squadron at sea during the Jutland sortie – HMS Barham leading Warspite, Valiant, and Malaya. LESSONS LEARNED There were a great many lessons learned from the battle of Jutland – most of them the hard way. The two worst lessons learned by the Kaiserliche Marine could be attributed directly to Admiral von Tirpitz. Promoted to Grosseadmiral by 1911, he had dominated the Kaiserliche Marine for very nearly 20 years -- strategic and tactical thought – and more importantly, warship design. Once war broke out in 1914, his design decisions and compromises came back to haunt the capital ships of the Hochseeflotte. Beginning with the first battlecruiser, SMS Von der Tann, the armor suite was a brilliant piece of work. But Tirpitz, ever mindful of the financial limitations imposed by the Reichstag, did everything in his power to keep the costs down. With each new battlecruiser, the size, tonnage, speed, and armament increased – dramatically raising the price tag. Eventually, it became standard practice on both battleships and battlecruisers to reduce the waterline armor belt as it neared the bow and stern. The standard pattern became a 12-inch main belt running from “A” turret to “D” turret. Beyond that, the armor belt extended to the bow and stern, but only with a 4-inch thickness. At the time, Tirpitz deemed that to be sufficient protection. By 1910, building costs had skyrocketed and the Derfflinger Class, still on the drawing boards, was overweight and over budget. It was suggested the armor on the bow section might be reduced below the standard 4-inch thickness. Herr Hullmann of the design bureau counseled against such a move…… “With a reduction in belt armor thickness on the bow, it should be understood large caliber shells will inevitably strike the ship there. One must then expect the ship will fill with water forward. If the damage is sufficient, leaks will occur that cannot be sealed with the means available onboard. The ship’s outer hull, to which the armor is secured, will undoubtedly leak, and the forecastle ahead of the citadel transverse bulkhead will certainly fill, and could not be kept drained with the means available onboard”. Herr Hullmann’s explanation stopped them from reducing the armor thickness, but none of them realized he had put his finger on the “Achilles Heel” of all Imperial battlecruisers. The midships sections of German armor belts extended vertically up to the main deck, but at the bow and stern they did not. In effect, the bow armor protection was not thick enough, nor did it cover a large enough area. At Jutland, three of Hipper’s five battlecruisers were heavily damaged by gunfire -- in the bow, above and below the waterline. SMS Lutzow could not be saved and was abandoned and scuttled. SMS Derfflinger, her sister-ship, was heavily damaged in exactly the same manner, but managed to reach the Jade. SMS Seydlitz took devastating damage to the bow and forecastle and arrived in the Jade more sunk than afloat. It should be noted both Moltke and Von der Tann suffered large caliber hits and flooding in the equally lightly armored stern section. It is, indeed, ironic that after all that careful planning and design, all those adjustments to the complicated armored suite, and the tremendous amount of damage they were able to absorb – Hipper’s magnificent battlecruisers had a “glass jaw”. SMS Derfflinger taking on ammunition while moored in Schillig Roads. Derfflinger is seen as she might have looked in early 1915 – after the Battle of Dogger Bank. Upon returning from battle, the Panzerkreuzer was assigned to picket duty, but the job of making the ship “battle ready” went on regardless. While minor repairs were being made by the crew, the gunnery crews were tasked with restocking the ship’s magazines. In order to speed-up the process, lighters have come alongside both the seaward (port) side, as well as the shallow, inshore side. Same scene, view from astern. The beautifully detailed model of Derfflinger is courtesy of "Barroco Hispano", and the tugs, lighters, and mooring buoys are from “AP”. The second lesson learned also applied to design decisions made by Tirpitz – the gun caliber of the Panzerkreuzer. The chosen main battery guns of the Kaiserliche Marine were the 11-inch SK-L/45, and later, the 11-inch SK-L/50, followed by the 12-inch SK-L/50. The long-barreled, high velocity weapons were, indeed, excellent – and their higher velocity reduced the time of flight of the shells, while imparting greater accuracy and armor penetration through increased kinetic energy. This was especially so with the 11-inch weapon, while the greater weight of the 12-inch shell improved penetration. At the time of Von der Tann’s design, the Admiralstab became aware 12-inch guns would be mounted on the British Invincible Class battlecruisers. Tirpitz was urged to change Von der Tann’s 11-inch armament to the excellent and available Krupp 12-inch gun. Taken at face value, the request for a larger gun, equal to your enemy, only makes sense. Tirpitz, however, believed in the “volume of fire” theory -- smaller shells, fired faster, would do the job. This theory did not take into account the weight of shell and the size of the bursting charge. The increase in gun size was declined on the grounds of additional cost and a delay in construction time. The request to jump to 12-inch guns was again made when the Motlke Class was designed – and again with SMS Seydlitz. Each time the request was refused for the same reasons – increased costs and delays in the design or construction process. When the Derfflinger Class design was undertaken, the British had already armed a number of battlecruisers and battleships with 13.5-inch weapons, which outclassed the German 11-inch gun. The disparity was so painfully obvious it could no longer be ignored – so the Derfflinger Class got 12-inch weapons. But during the discussion, the point was raised that there was talk in Britain of going to a 15-inch weapon. This, alone, should have been an “alarm bell” to Tirpitz. If there was “talk” in Britain of a 15-inch gun, that meant Vickers already had one under development – and the Royal Navy would most certainly use it. British pre-war Admiralty memorandum can actually shed some light on this subject. Jellicoe, as Second Sea Lord and Controller of the Navy, produced a 1909 study on the comparison of armor and gun calibers between the Royal Navy and the Imperial Navy. Even then, German ships were known to be better armored than comparable British warships – because of their high quality armor and internal subdivision. Because German technology produced a savings of weight in the propulsion plant, it could be directly applied to additional armor. Just one comparison (and there are others) will illustrate this point. HMS Queen Mary was given 3,900 tons of armor plate on a total displacement of 27,200 tons. Her German contemporary, SMS Seydlitz carried 5,200 tons of armor plate on a displacement of only 24,593 tons. Seydlitz held a small advantage in speed. The Germans had gained a distinct technological advantage over the British because their turbines and boilers were custom-made with weight-saving materials and designs. Their boilers were smaller and more efficient because they used small water tubes as opposed to the larger British “steam box” method. German turbines were just as sturdy and efficient – but used less steel of a higher quality. And Krupp rifles were much lighter than British weapons of an equivalent performance. Jellicoe’s memorandum went on to point out the superiority of German guns. For example: the standard German 11-inch gun weighed considerably less than its’ British counterpart and had better ballistics, with a penetrating force equivalent to the British 12-inch weapon. The newly developed German 12-inch rifle was an unknown quantity at the time of the memorandum, but Jellicoe prudently recommended new construction for the Fleet be armed with a 13.5-inch weapon developed by Vickers. It was later found that Krupp’s 12-inch gun exceeded the performance of the Vickers weapon. The Vickers 13.5-inch gun tube weighed in at 76 tons – Krupp’s 12-inch rifle weighed only 48 tons. The reason for the difference in weight and performance is simple (and I will keep this short and simple). The British armaments industry had adopted a “wire-wound” gun tube for heavy artillery and naval guns in the 1890’s. A central core is cast and then bored out to form the gun barrel. In Britain, it was discovered that the steel “bore-tube” was prone to failure due to impurities in the metal. British steel was manufactured with the Siemens-Martin “open-hearth” process. Consequently, the cast “bore-tube” was tightly wrapped with several layers of steel wire cable as reinforcement, then “cased” by an outer steel jacket (which is what you see poking out of a gun turret). These guns were not suited to “enhancement”. If better performance was needed – the British had to build bigger, longer, and heavier guns to obtain it. Krupp guns were made of steel produced in special electric furnaces (the “crucible” method) which provided an exceptionally fine metal free of impurities. The process produces a high-strength steel with less weight. German designers opted for the “built-up” naval gun. This was a solid, bored-out, central gun tube, encased with as many as five, high-tensile strength, layered outer tubes of reducing size toward the muzzle. (If you look at a German gun tube, you will see they usually have “segments” that reduce in size as they approach the muzzle.) These tubes were precision tooled and fit tightly around the central core as reinforcement. This is the forward main battery turret of SMS Helgoland (mentioned above). This is a classic view of the German 12-inch SK-L/50 gun. These guns were “built-up” as opposed to “wire-wound”. The difference between the two can be seen easily. If you look closely, there are three “segments” in each of the gun barrels. Each successive segment (or tube) increases in diameter as it approaches the breech of the gun, located inside the turret. There would be several reinforcing tubes layered over the shell chamber inside the gun tube -- where the explosive power of the firing charges would be greatest. The strength and rigidity of this method allowed for much longer barrels. German guns tended to be 50 calibers in length, whereas British guns were no more than 42 to 45 calibers in length (wire-wound gun tubes always “droop” beyond 45 calibers). The added strength of the Krupp gun allowed a larger firing charge, which increased velocity -- while the lengthened gun tube, with its longer rifled bore, imparted greater spin on the shell – providing much greater accuracy. The strength and length of the Krupp rifles is largely responsible for the phenomenally accurate, and tightly grouped salvos seen at Jutland. The Krupp steel also showed less wear on the rifled grooves in the barrel, giving the guns a long service life before requiring a new liner (about 200 rounds). British gun accuracy tended to degrade considerably after 70 rounds. It was clear to anyone interested – German science, innovation, and metallurgy had jumped far ahead. Jellicoe’s memorandum showed remarkable foresight and, oddly enough, the Admiralty adopted the 13.5-inch gun while going a step further and encouraging Vickers to develop a 15-inch weapon. The Ordnance Chief of the Admiralstab recommended designing Derfflinger to accommodate a new 15-inch Krupp weapon that would be ready for use about the time the battlecruiser was launched. Tirpitz flatly refused the more powerful weapon. He agreed to 12-inch guns because the British had opted for the 13.5-inch weapon, and they were equal to the German battleship guns. But he balked at putting a weapon on a battlecruiser that was more powerful than those of the battle fleet. It is possible Tirpitz was reluctant to up-gun the battlecruisers because of the German Naval Laws. The laws fixed building rates at three battleships and one large cruiser per year. The armor suite of a battlecruiser was already approaching that of a battleship, and if he armed them with 15-inch guns they would be more powerful than the current German battleships. The Reichstag might well accuse him of building an entirely new and unauthorized ship type while disguising it as a large cruiser. Peacetime politics were the same in Berlin and London – admirals had to watch their political backsides. There was yet another possible reason for not up-gunning. Tirpitz always indicated the 11-inch was adequate to destroy the British battlecruisers, and he only went along with the 12-inch weapon because the British had forced his hand. It is just possible his purpose in clinging to the lower caliber gun was to ensure battlecruisers would be employed as fleet scouts and “cruiser killers” – not to fight in the line of battle. He may have feared the Panzerkreuzer with 12-inch or 15-inch guns would tempt the Hochseeflotte officers to use them just as they would any battleship. Whatever the reason, Tirpitz habitually designed under-gunned battlecruisers regardless of the wishes of his line officers and department heads. The British built their first six battlecruisers between 1908 and 1913 with 12-inch guns, then increased to 13.5-inch caliber in 1910. Tirpitz did not see the need to increase to the 12-inch gun until 1912 – and at that time he declined to jump ahead of the British with a 15-inch caliber for the Derfflinger Class. British shells kept getting larger, but it’s as though Tirpitz gave no consideration to the weight of shell. It’s really quite simple – the bigger shell meant more penetrating power on impact – and more weight meant a larger bursting charge on detonation. That adds up to a much greater destructive force – outside and inside the target’s hull. No one in the Kaiserliche Marine had any actual knowledge or experience with the destructive power of British 13.5-inch Lyddite shells prior to the war, and they came as something of a surprise at Dogger Bank. But German line officers had absolutely zero comprehension of the destructive force of the 15-inch shells they encountered at Jutland. It was, literally, difficult to believe the devastation wrought by a 15-inch shell weighing 1,900 pounds. A starboard side view of Derfflinger taking ammunition aboard. Inshore, abaft the stern turrets, a Sophia Class paddle tug has positioned two lighters – one with yellow-tipped armor-piercing shells, and another with brass-cased powder charges. Up forward is a Thor Class tug with two similar lighters in position. On the port side, astern, another Thor Class tug is pushing a shell lighter (diagonal model) up against the battlecruiser’s hull, while near the bow, a Helena Class paddle tug (diagonal) has positioned her two lighters and is standing by. Same scene, bow view. Note the sleek lines of the battlecruiser’s hull. German battlecruisers had been designed to withstand 12-inch gunfire, and the armor suite was supposed to keep them afloat long enough for their 11-inch guns to sink a British battlecruiser. It turned out the armor suite was capable of absorbing far more punishment than expected, but the 11-inch guns took longer than anticipated to dispose of their enemy. As the battle wore on, damage to Hipper’s battlecruisers continued to accumulate. But the real problem showed itself when the British 15-inch guns came into action. The destructive power of the British 15-inch shell was capable of overwhelming the German armor long before their 11-inch guns could inflict fatal damage to their opponent. Tirpitz’ stubborn refusal to upgrade main gun caliber ended up sending the Imperial battlecruisers into action with one arm tied behind their back. The larger 12-inch gun would have evened the odds a little, and inflicted more damage on the British battlecruisers – perhaps even sinking one or two more. Equipping Lutzow and Derfflinger with 15-inch weapons would have evened the odds considerably – and the superior gunnery skills of the Hochseeflotte would have conveyed a distinct edge. The Battle of Jutland was not lost at sea. It was lost years before -- on the drafting boards of the Reichsmarineamt. The 1st Battlecruiser Squadron, Battlecruiser Fleet, of the Grand Fleet. Top to bottom – HMS Lion (flagship) – Princess Royal, Queen Mary, and HMS Tiger – collectively known as “The Splendid Cats”. A tug is positioning two lighters against the stern of Lion, preparing to unload – paint – to keep her bright and shiny. And a motor launch is approaching her bow – possibly with Admiralty despatches. Princess Royal is “coaling ship”, and a tug has arrived alongside Tiger with fresh provisions and ship’s stores. This is what they might have looked like just days before sailing for Jutland. The battlecruiser models are courtesy of “Barroco Hispano”. The tugs, lighters, motor launches, boat booms, and mooring buoys are by "AP". The white steam tug alongside Tiger was “gifted” by “WolfZe”. The British, too, learned many lessons from Jutland, but not as many as they should have. Some “lessons” were merely excuses for poor design, poor training, or poor tactical performance. One such problem was defective ammunition. British shells tended to break up on impact – or failed to penetrate when they struck at an oblique angle. This serious issue only came to light quite by chance. Beatty had hosted a luncheon (more of a public relations event) aboard HMS Lion in August 1916. One guest was a Swedish naval attache recently attached to his embassy in Berlin. During conversation with Ernle Chatfield (Beatty’s Flag Captain) the attache explained the Germans considered British shells more the object of comic relief than fear. Of course, the matter was investigated and new shells designed. (Jellicoe had already pointed this out when he was Second Sea Lord, before the war.) But the munitions were not delivered to the fleet in sufficient quantity until April 1918. All 12,000 of them were duly loaded into magazines and never fired in anger. But – I will not go into all of the problems discovered by the British, since our subject matter is focused on the Imperial battlecruisers. Though -- there is one more point worth mentioning. A closer look at HMS Lion, name ship of the Lion Class battlecruisers. Note the exceptionally wide spacing between the aft turrets. Both Jellicoe and Beatty blamed the loss of HMS Indefatigable, Queen Mary, and Invincible on their inherently thin armor – and that was quite accurate. But recent information obtained by wreck divers found excessive numbers of bagged powder charges stacked outside the magazines in the working chambers and barbette trunks of the ship’s main gun turrets. This negligent handling of powder was discovered earlier, at Dogger Bank, when HMS Lion was nearly lost to a magazine explosion. New handling procedures were immediately put in place to prevent such a disaster. Apparently, the ammunition handling parties on Beatty’s battlecruisers reverted to their bad habits at Jutland in an attempt to increase their rate of fire. German shells caused flash fires in the turrets and barbette trunks, blowing up each of the lost battlecruisers – not to mention damaging several ships that did not explode. Current authors have decided the British armor was more than sufficient – it was actually the powder handling procedures that caused the loss of the ships. After the battle, an urgent investigation was made and the British powder handling arrangements were, indeed, found to be deficient. Older flash-proof scuttles in the magazine bulkheads were found to be less than safe, while some had actually been removed by turret crews to speed up the rate of fire. New “revolving door” scuttles were designed and hastily installed to prevent future disasters. Poor procedures may be technically true – but it rather “puts the cart before the horse”. Let me ask a simple question. If the armor was sufficient to keep the German shells out – how did the flash of a detonating shell get inside a turret or barbette trunk to start the fire? The German shells had to penetrate turret armor or barbette armor – or – fracture the armor badly enough to admit detonation flash into the interior and set off the powder. There is no other way. The British armor was NOT sufficient to keep the shells out. A closer view of HMS Tiger – the most handsome of all the British battlecruisers at Jutland. Note the armor plate “apron” designed around the three main battery turrets installed at deck level. One rather gruesome revelation resulted from the “finger-pointing” and petulant accusations of “The Jutland Scandal”. “The Scandal” was a thoroughly ugly business, and during the numerous examinations and investigations of every moment of the battle, the signaling failures of Flag-Lieutenant Ralph Seymour came to light. Needless to say, the facts did not bode well for his career. Prone to bad luck, he tried to marry a young lady who stood to inherit a large sum of money from wealthy relatives – Beatty’s step-niece, and Beatty’s wife’s money. The Admiral forthwith ordered young Ralph to direct his amorous attentions elsewhere. Seymour, completely disgraced, eventually flung himself off the cliffs at Beachy Head in 1922. And that brings us back to the original question – “Who won the Battle of Jutland?” The short answer is – nobody. But -- if anyone could be said to have been beaten – it was Beatty. He led six battlecruisers and four fast battleships against Hipper’s five Panzerkreuzer in a foolhardy dash without coordinating the movements of his battleships. Hipper sank two battlecruisers and thoroughly mauled the other four. Only the timely arrival of the fast battleships saved Beatty from utter destruction. Scheer could not possibly have won the battle, so it seems difficult to “lose” something you never intended – or attempted -- to win. Finally – considering the poor visibility, lack of sighting reports, and shells that didn’t penetrate – Jellicoe did not actually “win” the battle. But he did manage to avoid losing it – and that was vastly more important. The day after the battle, a New York City newspaper columnist summed-up the battle rather neatly…...”The German Fleet has assaulted its jailer – but it is still in jail.” A detail view of SMS Derfflinger taking ammunition aboard. The battlecruiser model by “Barroco Hispano” is, of course, a thing of beauty – but I mainly wanted to show a close-up of the amazing detail @AP has put into his tugboats and lighters. Each shell lighter has the projectiles laid out in neat rows, with each shell individually crafted. And each powder lighter has four rows of clearly visible brass cartridge cases. And if you look behind the Helena Class paddle tug, he has even made a powder lighter with the hatch covers still battened-down. This is the kind of detail that really brings a model to life. Vice-Admiral John Rushworth Jellicoe was promoted to 1st Sea Lord in November 1916. In essence, he was “kicked upstairs” to the Admiralty -- promoted so the fleet could be turned over to a more aggressive man. Jellicoe’s prudent handling of the Grand Fleet was hardly heroic, but it was sure and certain. And it preserved British naval supremacy for another generation. The failure to deliver a “second Trafalgar” was blamed on Jellicoe – determined mostly on the basis of criticism in a letter-writing campaign aimed at Jellicoe’s supposed “timidity”. The letter writer, Vice-Admiral David Beatty was appointed in his place as C.-in-C. of the Grand Fleet. Jellicoe was rudely sacked from the Admiralty in January 1918 by Lloyd George’s administration for his failure to find a “miracle cure” for German U-boat attacks on British merchant shipping. There was, in fact, hardly any way to prevent submarine attacks in those days – though a “convoy system” seemed to intimidate U-Boat commanders. But the simple fact is -- Lloyd George simply needed a scapegoat to cover his own political backside. (Despite whatever good he may have accomplished -- in politics, Lloyd George was a creature not to be trusted.) Jellicoe was created Viscount Jellicoe of Scapa Flow in March 1918, and promoted Admiral Of The Fleet in April 1919. He was appointed Governor-General of New Zealand in 1920 and upon his return to England was created 1st Earl Jellicoe (hereditary) and Viscount Brocas of Southampton in 1925. Though lavished with honors, he never again served in a military capacity. There was a great deal of intrigue and back-stabbing over the Battle of Jutland – mostly Beatty trying to shift the blame for his poor performance onto Jellicoe’s shoulders. Each admiral had a number of their own supporters and the situation elicited a great many letters in the newspapers – and even involved deliberate alterations to the official Admiralty reports of the battle (ordered by Beatty while serving as First Sea Lord). I suggest you Google “The Jutland Scandal” for full details – it’s far too complicated to cover here. Admiral Of The Fleet, Lord John Rushworth Jellicoe, died aged 75, at his London home in 1935 and was buried with full military honors in St. Paul’s Cathedral. Vice-Admiral Sir David Richard Beatty was appointed to command of the Grand Fleet in November 1916, but never got another crack at the High Sea Fleet. Ironically, the “Hell for leather” battlecruiser admiral immediately adopted the cautious operational strategy of his predecessor (Jellicoe) and never fought a fleet engagement on his own. (The man couldn’t coordinate ten ships at Jutland – what would he have done with nearly 200?) Beatty brought out the entire Grand Fleet in November 1918 to escort the Hochseeflotte to internment in Scapa Flow. (But it should be noted he guarded what he considered “his” victory like a miser’s hoard. He could have invited both Admirals Fisher and Jellicoe aboard Queen Elizabeth to attend the ceremonies – but he did not.) He was promoted full Admiral in January 1919, and to Admiral Of The Fleet in May 1919. In October 1919 he was created 1st Earl Beatty, Viscount Borodale, and Baron Beatty of the North Sea and Brooksby. In November 1919 he was appointed First Sea Lord of the Admiralty and served in that capacity until his retirement in 1927. His main goal as a peacetime First Sea Lord seems to have been trying to prevent the United States from supplanting Britain as the foremost seapower – though that “claim to fame” seems dubious. He was considered for the post of Governor-General of Canada in 1926, but Colonial Secretary Leo Amery rejected the notion...”no manners and an impossible American wife”. (In 1901, Beatty had married Ethel Tree – the wealthy heiress to Chicago’s Marshall Field Department stores.) Admiral Of The Fleet, Sir David Richard Beatty died in March 1936 and was interred in St. Paul’s Cathedral. Vizeadmiral Reinhard Scheer was lauded as a hero upon his return to Wilhelmshaven and was decorated by the Kaiser with Germany’s highest military honor -- the Pour le Merite (sometimes called “The Blue Max”). He remained in command of the Hochseeflotte and made several sorties into the North Sea to attack convoys and shipping concentrations, but to little effect. He could not afford to risk his small fleet – so there was little chance of a “safe” operation producing impressive results. In August 1918, Scheer was promoted to full Admiral and appointed Chief of Naval Staff to replace an ailing Admiral Holtzendorff. Scheer lobbied heavily for unrestricted submarine warfare because he saw little opportunity for the Hochseeflotte to achieve any significant results. He retired from the navy after the war and wrote his memoirs in 1919, but his life after the war was not pleasant. An insane intruder broke into his home in 1920 and murdered his wife, his maid, and injured his daughter, before committing suicide in the cellar. Scheer withdrew into solitude and wrote an autobiography published in 1925. In 1928 Scheer accepted an invitation from Earl Jellicoe to visit England, but died aged 65 before he could make the journey. He is buried in the municipal cemetery in Weimar. The inscription on the stone reads “Here rests Admiral Reinhard Scheer” with the single word “Skagerrak” carved below. The last warship built by the Reichsmarine of the Weimar Republic was the pocket-battleship Admiral Scheer launched in 1933. As a matter of some interest: Books and articles about the battle began to appear as early as late 1916 – mostly written by British or American authors – all in English – and all based on the British accounts of the action. None of them paid very much (if any) attention to the German literature or their available official records. Up until the 1970’s, it was not unusual to see Admiral Scheer referred to as “von Scheer”. This is a simple, but obvious, proof of how little fact actually appeared in books written in the first 50 years after the battle. Reinhard Scheer was born to a middle-class family in lower Saxony – certainly not the nobility. Upon his return from Jutland, Kaiser Wilhelm did offer to raise him to the Imperial nobility. But, for reasons known only to him, Scheer declined the offer and never received the much-coveted “von” before his name. Vizeadmiral Franz Ritter von Hipper also returned to a hero’s welcome – and justly so. His performance at Jutland was nothing short of magnificent. On 5 June 1916, for his conduct in the battle, Hipper received the Pour le Merite from the Kaiser’s own hand and a kiss on both cheeks. He was also awarded the Royal Bavarian Military Order Of Max Joseph, Commander’s Cross, by His Majesty, King Ludwig III of Bavaria – including elevation to Bavarian nobility and the title “Ritter” (knight). He was presented with several other awards, including the Royal Saxon Order of Albrecht, and all three Hanseatic League Crosses from Lubeck, Bremen, and Hamburg. On 12 August 1918, he was promoted full Admiral and appointed to command the Hochseeflotte -- but his time in command was short and unpleasant. The war was all but lost and within weeks, the crews of the Hochseeflotte began to demonstrate mutinous tendencies. By 29 October several battleship crews had mutinied, so the fleet was dispersed to various ports. On 9 November, Hipper personally hauled down his flag and departed the battleship Baden. Just twelve days later, on 21 November 1918, Hipper watched as his cherished battlecruisers led the Hochseeflotte to sea one last time – headed for internment at Scapa Flow as part of the Armistice agreement. With no fleet to command, there would be no more battles to fight, and Hipper retired in December 1918 after 37 years of service at sea. For the next year, he hid from the radical elements of the 1918-1919 revolutionaries that overturned the monarchy, then settled in a comfortable home in Altona, near Hamburg. Unlike Scheer, Hipper never wrote his memoirs or anything concerning his service during the war – he was confident the heroism of his men and battlecruisers spoke for him. Of the four senior admirals (on both sides) present at Jutland, Hipper made no mistakes that day – and was the only one to come away with his reputation burnished. In May 1932, Admiral Franz Ritter von Hipper died and was buried in his hometown of Weilheim. The Kriegsmarine later named their Hipper Class heavy cruisers after him. Upon hearing of Hipper's death, David Beatty said..."I am very sorry. One would like to express one's regrets for the passing of a gallant officer and a great sailor.” It would, no doubt, have pleased Hipper, and certainly – after the rough handling he had given Beatty – it would have made the old Bavarian buccaneer laugh. Elements of the German III Battle Squadron steaming past Heligoland Island. Painting by Claus Bergen. NEXT TIME…… THE THIRD SISTER 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

HMS King George V (flagship 2nd Battle Squadron – Vice-Admiral Martyn Jerram) leads the deployment of the port column of the battle fleet. Astern of her are HMS Ajax, Centurion, Erin, Orion, Monarch, Conqueror, and Thunderer. The remainder of the Grand Fleet (4th Battle Squadron and 1st Battle Squadron) will fall into line astern and maneuver into line-ahead formation. Jellicoe returns fire on the Hochseeflotte around 18:19. The King George V Class were the most modern battleships in the fleet -- improved versions of the Iron Duke Class. IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: CUXHAVEN By: Dreadnought & AP Chapter 33: THE DEATH OF TWO BATTLECRUISERS Admiral Jellicoe’s deployment commenced around 18:15, with a machine-like precision – ship following ship, division following division, and squadron following squadron. The appearance of Hood and the 3d Battlecruiser Squadron northeast of Hipper had induced him to fall back, and gave Jellicoe the time he needed to perform the delicate maneuver. Like a giant steel tentacle, the ships formed into line-ahead on an easterly course with the terrible, but majestic, grace of a choreographed dance. Leading the line was HMS King George V, named after the reigning monarch. Jellicoe and Iron Duke were ninth in line. And the tail-end position would be “anchored’ by HMS Agincourt (sometimes referred to as “The Gin Palace”), armed with more heavy guns than any dreadnought afloat (14x12-inch). HMS Iron Duke – sister ships Benbow, Emperor Of India, and Marlborough: 25,820 tons – 21 knots – 10x13.5-inch guns – 12x6-inch guns – 4x21-inch torpedo tubes – belt armor 12 inches. HMS Agincourt – ex-Turkish Sultan Osman I – ex Brazilian Riachuelo: 27,500 tons – 22 knots – 14x12-inch guns – 20x6-inch guns-- 10x3-inch guns – 3x21-inch torpedo tubes – belt armor 9 inches. HMS Hercules – Neptune Class: 19,680 tons – 21 knots – 10x12-inch guns – 16x4-inch guns – 3x18-inch torpedo tubes – belt armor 10 inches. Just three designs removed from HMS Dreadnought, her main battery layout did not solve the problem of trying to get ten guns on broadside. Provisions were made for cross-deck firing, but the decks were not reinforced and were invariably damaged. She was in the farthest starboard column and would be among the last to deploy. (Battleship models courtesy of "Barroco Hispano". Around 18:18, the leading dreadnoughts of the Hochseeflotte opened on HMS Agincourt and Hercules, straddling both ships, but causing no damage. Agincourt was the last ship in the starboard column and slipped neatly into line as the first German shells threw up huge geysers around her. This should be ample proof – if any is needed – that Jellicoe’s decision to deploy on the port column was correct. If he had deployed 4,000 yards closer to the enemy, as his critics advocated, the Grand Fleet would have been taken under fire while still deploying from their column formation. HMS Marlborough returned fire at approximately 13,000 yards, but lost sight of the target in the smoke and ceased fire after three salvos. From a potentially disastrous situation eighteen minutes before, Jellicoe now stood ready to cross his enemy’s “T” and envelope his fleet from the east. But while the “big picture” between the two battle fleets was beginning to play out, the more “private” grudge-match between the opposing battlecruisers was taking on a more lethal tone. Rear Admiral Sir Horace Hood – circa 1916. Rear-Admiral Sir Horace Hood was the living embodiment of “THE” Royal Navy officer. Being the great-great-grandson of Admiral Sir Samuel Hood, 1st Viscount Hood, he naturally joined the Royal Navy at age twelve. His naval lineage was so formidable it was said he was...”pure Royal Navy at its most gallant”. Early on, he was assigned to the cruiser HMS Calliope for service in the Pacific, and was aboard when Calliope clawed her way out to sea in the teeth of the tropical cyclone that struck Apia, Samoa, in 1889. She was the only ship to survive, while six other warships foundered in the harbor. Hood was quick-witted, resourceful, said to be handsome, and at a youthful forty-five years of age – one of the youngest flag-officers in the fleet. Truly, a man “gifted” by The Gods. Hood was leading the 3rd Battlecruiser Squadron on a SE course, about two miles ahead of Beatty’s battlecruisers, and both groups were engaging Hipper on a parallel course about 16,000 yards to the south. Beatty’s group was still partly obscured by the mists along the Jutland coast, but HMS Princess Royal, nevertheless, received two 12-inch hits in quick succession – one from the battleship SMS Markgraf and one from SMS Lutzow. For the moment, Hood’s ships were obscured in the mist and haze to the northeast, while Hipper’s ships were frequently clear of smoke and mist and sharply outlined by the setting sun. As the battle ran to the SE, the British gunnery seemed to improve – especially that of the 3rd Battlecruiser Squadron. It should be remembered, they were fresh from gunnery practice at Scapa Flow when they were ordered to sea. Between 18:19 and 18:30, HMS Indomitable struck SMS Derfflinger three times and Seydlitz once, while Lutzow (flag) – leading the line – took ten hits in quick succession from HMS Lion, Inflexible, and Invincible. Four of Invincible’s 12-inch shells struck Lutzow forward, below the waterline – one blowing a large hole in the bow torpedo flat, and another, an equally large hole in the broadside torpedo flat. The torpedo flats were the two largest compartments forward of “A” turret. They flooded completely in mere minutes -- and began leaking into adjacent compartments. The other two shells also ripped large, irregular, holes in the lower hull, further opening the ship to the sea. Lutzow maintained her speed and position in line – but it was only a matter of time. HMS Invincible, flagship of Sir Horace Hood’s 3rd Battlecruiser Squadron. She was the FIRST battlecruiser – the original concept ship of an entirely new type of warship. Among the British battlecruisers at Jutland that day, the three ships of the Invincible Class (Invincible, Inflexible, and Indomitable) were shooting well. Admiral Hood had pushed his men hard during their recent training period on the Scapa Flow gunnery ranges. Beatty watched 3rd Battle Cruiser Squadron, visibly agitated and beaming with pride. One of his staff recorded… ”Hood pressed home his attack, and it was an inspiring sight to see this squadron of battlecruisers dashing towards the enemy with every gun in action. On Lion’s bridge, we felt like cheering them on, for it seemed the decisive moment of battle had come” But the moment for cheering passed quickly. At 18:32, for a fatal 2 minutes, the constantly moving and shifting smoke and mist parted around HMS Invincible. Gunnery Officer Paschen aboard SMS Lutzow, and von Hase aboard Derfflinger, just 9,000 yards away, seized the moment with the speed and opportunism acquired through long training and battle experience. In just a matter of seconds, the main battery turrets steadied on Invincible – the big gun tubes elevated – needles swung on the repeaters – and the Chief Gunnery Officers jammed their fingers down on the worn red buttons. Derfflinger opened first. Two shells landed “over” – but two struck home. Rapid salvos were ordered and two more salvos blasted out of the big rifles only twenty seconds apart. At 18:34, Lutzow fired the last salvo and one shell struck the face-plate of Invincible’s midships “Q” turret. The 12-inch armor-piercing shell penetrated the 7-inch armor, detonating cordite charges in the gun house, and blew the armored roof three hundred feet into the air. Within a fraction of a second, the flash from the powder burn raced down the turret trunk to the magazines. A series of rapid explosions could be seen and the magazine erupted in an angry ball of flame. A gigantic column of black smoke and debris gushed some four hundred feet into the sky. The ship could be seen to break exactly in the middle as coal dust shot out of the cracks and broken seams. Pieces of Invincible were thrown hundreds of feet into the air before raining down in all directions. At least one, and possibly both, midships turrets (“P” & “Q”) were flung high into the air before splashing into the sea – guns and all. The tripod masts were seen to collapse inward on each other, and more explosions were heard. Mercifully, a monstrous smoke cloud settled over the water and obscured the dying ship. It was all over in just fifteen seconds. A detail shot of HMS Invincible. The turrets on this class were lettered, bow to stern – “A”, port side ”P”, starboard side “Q”, and “X”. One shell out of the fatal 4-gun salvo fired by SMS Lutzow struck the face-plate of “Q” turret, penetrated, and started a fire among powder charges in the handling trunk that detonated both midships magazines. HMS Invincible at the moment of the explosion. It is a grainy, black and white photo – and was obviously taken in great haste – but columns of smoke, fire, or coal dust can be seen shooting up out of various parts of the ship. The large white “cloud” just aft of the forward superstructure is, in reality, a gigantic fire-ball just starting to form. In ten more seconds, she would be gone. (HMS Invincible model courtesy of @Barroco Hispano). The two German battlecruisers had fired three quick salvos each, sending HMS Invincible to the bottom in 90 seconds. The North Sea is known as a “shallow sea”, and especially so off the Jutland coast. The midships had been blown out of Invincible, so when the smoke cloud began to dissipate, the stem and the stern poking up out of the water was all that could be seen – the broken ends were resting on the seafloor. There were six survivors plucked out of the sea by HMS Badger -- five of them were in the foretop gunnery control station and simply stepped out when the water rose up to meet them. The sixth survivor had been manning the rangefinder inside “P” turret and was miraculously blown clear by the explosion. In that blindingly swift fifteen seconds, 1,026 men perished – including the promising young flag-officer, Sir Horace Hood. It is a bit ironic, or possibly eerie, that Horace Hood – descended from Admiral Sir Samuel Hood (1762 – 1814) -- died in the cataclysmic explosion of a battlecruiser. The battlecruiser HMS Hood – named after Sir Samuel Hood – was also destroyed in a cataclysmic explosion in the Denmark Strait in 1941. It is also, I suppose, fitting that the “first ever” battlecruiser – the progenitor of the breed – was HMS Invincible. And the last commissioned British battlecruiser was HMS Hood. You might think of it as the “Alpha” and “Omega” of Admiral Jackie Fisher’s dream. HMS Prince Of Wales (King George V Class battleship commissioned 1940) in the foreground engaging the KM Bismarck and the heavy cruiser KM Prince Eugen in the Denmark Strait, May 1941. HMS Hood can be seen in the background. She, too, has been broken in half by a magazine explosion amidships and is on her way to the bottom. SMS Lutzow, hotly engaged with the battlecruisers of both Beatty and Hood. Within mere minutes, she would receive ten hits from the concentrated fire of three capital ships, and Invincible would deliver the “death blow”. The smoke column on the horizon to the right is Invincible – seconds before the fatal explosion. (Magnificent painting by Claus Bergen.) As quickly as Invincible had disappeared, the realization began to sink in that SMS Lutzow was doomed as well. At just over 9,000 yards, a fusillade of British shells from three capital ships had struck the big battlecruiser on the thinly armored portions of the bow, some blasting holes in the forecastle deck that reached all the way down to the four-inch armor belt. One eyewitness later said the holes were big enough “to have easily driven a locomotive through”. The sea could be clearly seen to wash in and out of the gaping holes – at least for a little while. As heavy caliber shells smashed through the forecastle deck and tore jagged holes in the thin bow plating, four 12-inch shells were seen to strike below the waterline. Though all four shells ripped open the ship’s lower hull, two of them in particular, fired by Invincible, struck beneath the armor belt and penetrated the hull below the protective armor deck. These shells scored direct hits on both the bow and broadside torpedo flats. The broadside torpedo flat had firing tubes mounted on either beam and stretched the entire width of the hull. Due to the sheer length of a torpedo, the bow torpedo flat, though smaller, also stretched the width of the narrow bow. Both compartments quickly flooded and the battlecruiser took on an estimated 2,300 tons of water. Kapitan Harder sheered out of line and reduced speed to 16 knots to try to ease the flooding, but Lutzow was effectively out of the battle. Barely maneuverable, with her wireless aerials shot away, one serviceable main battery turret, and progressive flooding through holes that could not be “plugged” – the finest gunnery ship in the Hochseeflotte was all but useless. And yet, she continued to fire at the multitude of targets appearing out of the smoke and haze. Reluctantly, von Hipper ordered Kapitan Harder to detach Lutzow from the 1st Scouting Group and withdraw to the west at his best possible speed. It should be noted – Lutzow had now absorbed the impact of, at least, 22 heavy caliber shells – and she was still afloat. Unfortunately, though she turned away to the west, Beatty was forcing the German battlecruisers onto a southerly course and would maintain a steady fire on the crippled cruiser. With SMS Lutzow’s bow filling with sea water, she was no longer capable of maintaining battle speed, and could only maneuver slowly and with great difficulty. The torpedo boat G-39 has been ordered alongside to embark Vizeadmiral Hipper and his staff, and transfer them to a battlecruiser still capable of fighting. The battle continues to rage around her and she is in imminent danger of total destruction. (Art by Claus Bergen.) As a matter of some interest – Claus Bergen (1885 – 1964) -- was a noted German artist and illustrator specializing in fishing scenes, coastal landscapes, and naval subjects. In 1914 he was appointed “Marine Painter to Kaiser Wilhelm II”. After the Battle Of Jutland, there was enormous demand from museums, the public, and ship captains that had participated in the action, for paintings of battle scenes. To meet the demand, Vizeadmiral Scheer took the Hochseeflotte into the Baltic Sea with Bergen aboard and staged portions of the battle – complete with firing blank rounds to simulate the battle scenes. His works are the most accurate depictions of the warships and, quite possibly, the most realistic naval combat scenes ever painted. Around 18:50, Kommodore Andreas Michelsen, aboard the light cruiser SMS Rostock, took it on his own initiative to dispatch five torpedo boats to assist the stricken battlecruiser. (The Kaiserliche Marine may not have had a centuries-long tradition to live by, but they considered themselves the elite of the German military – and above all, they were a “family” – “Kameraden”. The torpedo boats would not leave their comrades to the mercy of the sea, and if needed, they would fight to protect them.) As the torpedo boat G-39 approached, a signal lamp on Lutzow’s bridge ordered her to come alongside. As a stationary target, Lutzow was still under heavy fire from Beatty’s battlecruisers as well as the battle squadrons of the Grand Fleet. The torpedo boats G-37 and V-45 immediately began laying a smokescreen around the crippled battlecruiser to make her less of a target. Unable to maneuver, Lutzow continued to receive numerous hits from British battlecruisers to the east. G-37, G-38, G-40, and V-45 quickly swung toward the enemy, drove through the smokescreen astern of Lutzow, and surged ahead to engage the threat. The four little ships fanned-out in attack mode and continued to lay a thick smoke screen as they advanced. As the torpedo boats closed their targets, the British battlecruisers suddenly swung hard east to avoid the attack and ceased firing at Lutzow. The little torpedo boats had gamely charged the enemy to protect the stricken battlecruiser from what could only have been annihilation. While his flotilla-mates went into the attack, Oberleutnant zur See von Loefen ignored the risk of near-certain destruction from large caliber shells raining down, and eased the little G-39 up against the big battlecruiser. He nervously stood by as Vizeadmiral Hipper and his staff made their way down from the bridge to the ship’s rail. Hipper knew he could no longer exercise effective command of his battlecruisers from a flagship that had, literally, been shot full of holes – he had to get to a battlecruiser still in the fight. As the Admiral’s staff went over the side, Hipper gazed fore and aft at the destruction that was once the newest and finest warship in the Hochseeflotte. He waved one last time to Harder on the bridge, saluted the battle ensign on the aft mast, then went over the side. And so began the odyssey of Vizeadmiral Franz von Hipper. The little torpedo boat pulled away from Lutzow and Hipper ordered von Loefen to catch-up to 1st Scouting Group so he could resume command. (In his absence, the Imperial battlecruisers were led by Kapitan zur See Hartog, in SMS Derfflinger.) The small torpedo boat lunged forward and set out in the wake of the battlecruisers. Vizeadmiral Scheer had, by this time, joined battle with the Grand Fleet and was maneuvering his battle squadrons in an effort to gain the upper hand. Kapitan Hartog was doing his best to keep station ahead of the Hochseeflotte while continuing to trade salvos with Beatty. All the while, the German battlecruisers were charging in and out of the gun smoke, funnel smoke, and mist -- and coming in for their share of shells from the British battleships as well. After losing sight of the Panzerkreuzer once or twice, G-39’s speed and agility managed to close-up with them while dodging the mountainous shell splashes and taking a good deal of whirring splinters through her thin skin. Hipper eyed his battlecruisers through binoculars and quickly realized SMS Von der Tann was in no condition to act as a flagship. G-39 sheered away into the smoke to avoid incoming salvos, and when she came abreast the battlecruiser line again, she was beside SMS Seydlitz. It was at this moment that Hipper realized just how much damage his squadron had sustained. Seydlitz was maintaining her speed and position in line, and she continued to fire with three turrets – but she was down by the bow – similar to Lutzow, but not that bad. SMS Derfflinger was up ahead, but Hipper already knew she had taken a great deal of punishment. After a few seconds thought, Hipper ordered Oberleutnant von Loefen to drop back to SMS Moltke – she would be the new flagship. But the chaos of battle was unrelenting, and it would be nearly an hour later (20:45) when Hipper finally stepped onto Moltke’s deck. Hipper had seen the damage to his squadron, but he did not fully understand his magnificent battlecruisers were nearing their limits. Meanwhile, SMS Lutzow fired her last salvo at 19:45 and disappeared to the SW behind the smokescreen of the escorting torpedo boats. Later, after nightfall, Lutzow was still making 15 knots and altered course to the south to try and stay on the disengaged side of the Hochseeflotte as they withdrew toward Horn’s Reef. Around 21:13, the trailing ship of the Hochseeflotte lost sight of Lutzow, which was no longer able to keep up. Kapitan Harder held out hope of being able to evade the British and “cheat the Devil” by nursing Lutzow into port – but it was a long way to the Jade. By 21:30, the battered cruiser was settling slowly into the sea. Water began to lap over what remained of the forecastle deck and was quickly flooding everything above the main armored deck. With large areas below the main armored deck already flooded, Harder had to reduce speed to relieve the pressure on the rear bulkheads of the large torpedo flats. Around 23:45 Lutzow’s speed had dropped to 7 knots and she was still taking on water. Most critical of all, the forward main pumps suddenly failed due to jammed control rods. The possibility of Lutzow limping into the Jade was fast becoming no more than a dream. By 00:30 on 1 June, there was simply too much water in the hull for the remaining pumps to handle. With no hope of “plugging” the huge holes in the bow, and insufficient means to remove the water – Lutzow’s crew was fighting their last battle – and losing. Water began rising in the forward generator compartments and shorted-out the dynamos – forcing the damage control parties to work by oil lamps and candlelight. Rising water also began to pour into the forward boiler room. By now, all forward compartments up to the conning tower and below the main armored deck were completely flooded. Everything above the main armored deck forward of “A” turret barbette was flooded as well. Efforts to plug the holes had been useless – most were far too large for collision mats, or the rising seas washed them away shortly after they were rigged. As the draft forward increased, the waves washing over the battered forecastle deck hindered or prohibited repair efforts. This is a rough schematic showing the remaining buoyancy and bow-down angle of Lutzow around 01:00 on 1 June. As water crept toward “A” turret, the gun crews and magazine handling crews labored in the lantern-lit darkness, moving shells and powder charges into the “B” turret barbette and magazines before the sea rendered them useless. It is a curious thing to see the minds of warriors at work in a crisis. Even with the sea lapping at their pant-legs, the gunners were determined to defend their ship until the very last. The wounded among them were either working on repairs, or had been moved to the comparative safety of the quarter deck. The signal books, charts, and important papers had been bagged for transfer to one of the escorting torpedo boats. The ship’s log was being annotated by the Officer of the Watch, and would leave the ship – if and when he did. The Kapitan’s steward had gathered a small satchel of personal effects from his cabin – there could have been more – but the little torpedo boats would be terribly crowded when the time came. And yet, around 01:15, an attempt was made to maneuver the ship stern-first toward Horn’s Reef. Even at the last possible moment, it was hoped steaming astern might relieve the pressure on the forward bulkheads, somehow slow the flooding, and just possibly get them home. But this novel idea failed. The big cruiser was so far down at the bows, the propellers aft were partially out of the water. In a last act of desperation, an attempt was made to tow Lutzow with the torpedo boats. And though every effort was made, the little boats simply did not have the horsepower to move a capital ship full of sea water. As the sky just begins to lighten in the east, Lutzow lies abandoned, her crew removed by the waiting torpedo boats. She is seriously down by the bows and listing to port. Her guns are silent now, but the remaining steam in the boilers turns her propellers, as though she refused to give up. By 01:30, the damage control officer estimated there were 8,400 tons of water in the ship, and she was beginning to list to port – with the possibility of capsizing at any time. Kapitan Harder finally made the difficult decision and ordered...”Fires out – abandon ship…” The torpedo boats G-37, G-38, G-40, and V-45 came alongside and made ready to remove the crew. Lutzow’s men assembled on the port rail and Kapitan Harder said a few words – reminding them Lutzow was a “crack” gunnery ship – that she had led the line from the beginning – every man had done more than his duty, with courage and devotion – and...”All that could be done – has been done.” With that, three cheers were raised for the ship and three for His Majesty, the Kaiser. Harder simply finished with...”Alright, my men – to the boats!” The crew transferred to the torpedo boats in a quick and orderly manner. Harder was the last man on deck, saluting the battle ensign before he went over the side. On Harder’s orders, SMS G-38 stood off and fired two torpedoes into the battlecruiser. At 01:47 she slid bow-first beneath the waves – approximately 37 miles NW of Horn’s Reef. SMS Lutzow was the only German dreadnought to be lost that day, and the only Imperial battlecruiser ever lost in action. Though she set a proud example, she was, in the end...”short-lived and unlucky.” During her superb performance at Jutland, SMS Lutzow led the Panzerkreuzer battle line for a full four hours, and as flagship 1st Scouting Group, Beatty deliberately took her under fire with two of his six battlecruisers during the “run to the south”. During the “run to the north”, HMS Barham added her powerful 15-inch guns to the rain of shells targeting Lutzow. And finally, as Hipper’s battlecruisers neared the deploying Grand Fleet, several British battleships opened on her as well. The big cruiser had continually dueled with two, three, or more enemy capital ships – straddling them with rapid and accurate salvos. As a mark of the esteem in which Kapitan Harder was held, he was decorated with the Iron Cross and later given command of SMS Baden – one of only two 15-inch-gunned battleships commissioned into the Kaiserliche Marine. The Imperial battlecruisers were instrumental in carrying the fight to the British, and the swift and powerful warships bore the brunt of the battle throughout that long afternoon. Even after the opposing battle fleets engaged, the Panzerkreuzer took station as the vanguard of the fleet and led the way. And Lutzow led them all into the thick of the battle. Her superbly trained and courageous gunners fired 380 main gun rounds and 400 rounds from her secondary batteries – and two torpedoes. The big Panzerkreuzer exhibited, quite possibly, the finest shooting in the annals of the “Dreadnought Era” – and certainly, the most skilled marksmanship at the Battle of Jutland. Her crew suffered 115 dead and another 50 wounded – second only to Derfflinger, which lost 157 killed and 26 wounded. In her leading position as flagship of 1st Scouting Group, Lutzow was usually under fire from two or more British warships, and she took more damage than any ship present at the battle. A total of 25 large caliber shells struck the German battlecruiser; four 15-inch fired by 5th Battle Squadron during the “run to the north” – twelve 13.5-inch shells fired over the duration of the battle primarily by Beatty’s battlecruisers, as well as a few fired by the British battle fleet during their deployment; and nine 12-inch shells fired during the final, brief, engagement with 3rd Battlecruiser Squadron. (These are only the large caliber shells. The number of medium shell hits were known to be numerous, but the total is unknown.) The German naval architects had done their job well. When all the fine points have been debated, many naval analysts say the Derfflinger Class battlecruisers were the finest capital ships built during the “Dreadnought Era” (1905-1930) – and with good cause. The British will claim superiority for their Queen Elizabeth Class – but HMS Warspite proved they were just as vulnerable as any other capital ship. But the German designers are widely acclaimed to have produced the two finest warships (Lutzow and Derfflinger) possessed by either fleet at the Battle of Jutland. Through four long hours of near-constant engagement, Lutzow’s carefully crafted armor suite protected her machinery spaces and kept her traveling at high speed. When other battlecruisers suffered turret breakdowns or battle damage, Lutzow’s firepower remained largely intact. Over the course of the prolonged battle, her precision gunnery was superb. And while she suffered a good deal of damage to her upper works and less heavily armored decks, her face-hardened Krupp steel resisted penetration by the heaviest shells. She was a thing of beauty, and a marvel of engineering. But, as in all “perfect” things, there is an imperfection – in this case -- an “Achilles Heel”. A common practice in all navies of the period was to put the thickest possible armor belt along the waterline amidships, stretching from “A” turret forward, to “D” turret aft. This created an “armored box” protecting the gun turret barbettes at either end and the machinery and boiler spaces between them. This practice left both “ends” of the ship (bow and stern) either lightly armored, or completely unarmored. This theory, basically, dismissed the ends of the ship as “unimportant”. (In the US Navy battleship design school, it was called the “all or nothing” principle.) Derfflinger’s designers “hedged their bets” on this one. Rather than leave the ends completely unarmored, they hit upon a cost-saving measure. The main armor belt amidships was 12 inches thick – respectable by any standards. From “A” turret forward to the stem, the armor tapered to 4 inches – with the same protection at the stern. And the armor belt extended down below the waterline to the “standard” depth used on all German capital ships (leaving the lower hull unarmored because no shells were expected to strike there). And on the face of it – during the battle – this system worked very well. But at one of the late planning meetings in 1911, it had been suggested Derfflinger’s 4-inch bow armor could be reduced in thickness to save money. However, Herr Hullmann, of the design department, had said…... “With a reduction in belt armor thickness on the bow, it should be understood large caliber shells will inevitably strike the ship there. One must then expect the ship will fill with water forward. If the damage is sufficient, leaks will occur that cannot be sealed with the means available onboard. The ship’s outer hull, to which the armor is secured, will undoubtedly leak, and the forecastle ahead of the citadel transverse bulkhead will certainly fill, and could not be kept drained with the means available onboard”. At that point, the notion of reducing the bow armor thickness was dropped. But tragically, Herr Hullmann had unknowingly predicted the death of SMS Lutzow. Though they did not tamper with the original design, neither did they realize a mere 4 inches of armor would not be enough. Even a British 6-inch shell could penetrate a 4-inch armor belt. In all truth – in 1911 -- neither the designers (mostly), nor the admirals, nor the lesser ranked “experts”, believed extensive shell damage to the extreme ends of a warship to be a serious possibility. It must be remembered that prior to the outbreak of war in 1914, the naval powers of the world had very little practical experience in modern naval warfare. During the Victorian Era, steam powered ships-of-the-line and sail-rigged ironclad steamers had fought the occasional action, but in the century after the 1805 Battle Of Trafalgar, there was only one major fleet action – the 1905 Battle Of Tsushima. Unfortunately for naval theoreticians and design analysts, Tsushima was fought at the end of the “pre-dreadnought” era and the beginning of the “dreadnought” era. The advent of HMS Dreadnought tore up all the existing rule books. The result was very few naval officers with experience of Tsushima (only a few foreign naval observers were present) – and whatever technical knowledge they acquired in 1905, was no longer applicable to the advanced naval technology of 1911. This long period of peace – the “Pax Britannica” – also meant their was little, if any, combat experience in the officer corps or among designers. Designers could only acquire practical knowledge of the interaction between armor and shells through testing. But this was still a rudimentary business in the first decade of the 20th Century, and results could easily be misleading or misinterpreted. And it is also debatable as to whether or not designers, or naval officers, fully understood the destructive capability of naval gunfire prior to 1914. And they certainly had no data about shell trajectory once it hit the water – otherwise, they would have increased the thickness of the bow armor belt – and extended it farther below the waterline. But then – the 4-inch armor belt forward of “A” turret was meant to be a cost-saving measure –- a compromise -- and something of a calculated risk. All of them, designers and naval officers, probably assumed that if a shell got that close to the end of the ship – it would likely miss and fall into the sea. None of them could have predicted four large caliber shells would strike the forecastle deck – directly along the centreline of the ship. These shells penetrated two decks down and exploded, blasting large holes in the forecastle deck and wrecking the watertight integrity of many of the compartments above the armored deck. And none of them had any idea four large shells, in quick succession, would strike underwater – beneath the armor belt – and rip huge holes in Lutzow’s lower hull. And none of them, in their wildest dreams, would ever have imagined the finest ship in the Hochseeflotte could take on 8,400 tons of water before her own Kapitan ordered her sunk. But any military man will tell you – battle, once joined, has no certainties. There is always the unexpected. NEXT TIME…… INTO THE JAWS OF DEATH 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

The British Battlecruiser Fleet engaged with Hipper’s 1st Scouting Group – HMS Lion, Princess Royal, Tiger, and New Zealand. The 5th Battle Squadron can be seen far to the rear. IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: CUXHAVEN By: dreadnought & AP Chapter 31: RUN TO THE NORTH Vice-Admiral Beatty’s Battlecruiser Fleet was steaming SE at 22 knots, hotly engaged with the Imperial German battlecruisers of the Hochseeflotte’s 1st Scouting Group. The British Admiral had already lost two battlecruisers to enemy fire, but had the overwhelming support of four Queen Elizabeth Class fast-battleships of the 5th Battle Squadron. Heavily armored, with mighty 15-inch guns, they were the most powerful dreadnought battleships in the world. Beatty fully intended to cut off the German squadron’s line of retreat and annihilate it. But the designs of mortal man stand little chance against the whims of “The Gods”. Beatty “the fox-hunter” was about to become “the hunted”. Two wireless sighting reports were received on HMS Lion’s bridge around 16:38 -- almost simultaneously – one from HMS Southampton (Commodore Goodenough) and another from HMS Champion… ”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 news came as a great shock to Beatty, and though still engaged with Hipper’s battlecruisers, he immediately altered course toward Southampton’s position. Just five hours ago, he had been informed the German battle fleet was at anchor in the Jade – he needed to see this with his own eyes. Within a very few minutes, the masses of smoke with the long line of battleships beneath came into view. Beatty instantly realized he’d been led into a trap by Hipper. He had to extricate his battered squadrons from certain destruction, and once that was done -- lure both Hipper and Scheer onto the waiting guns of the Grand Fleet. At 16:40, Beatty hoisted the flag signal for a 16 point (180 degree) turn to starboard, “in succession” – then signaled “recall” to his skirmishing destroyers and light cruisers. The big battlecruisers heeled hard over as they swung to starboard at 22 knots, then took up a course NNE. The “Run To The South” was over – but the “Run To The North” was only just beginning. And it was beginning badly. When HMS Southampton sighted the German battle fleet, Evan-Thomas’ 5th Battle Squadron was still eight miles astern of Beatty’s battlecruisers. HMS Barham continued to close the distance, and switched her fire to SMS Moltke, engaging her to great effect. Three certain hits on Moltke were observed, but the Gunnery Officer ordered a switch to the more powerful armor-piercing Lyddite shells, and these were virtually smokeless, so no further hits could be seen. The return fire from Moltke was doing great internal damage to Barham and caused heavy casualties among the crew -- but, curiously, there was little external “scarring”. Beatty relied on flag signals since his dynamos were acting up -- no doubt due to the pounding Lion had received -- and his wireless transmitters were only sending at half-power. Unfortunately, Barham’s Captain Craig could not see the flags. Not only was he trailing far behind the battlecruisers, but the weather had suddenly closed-in and he could hardly see the ships, let alone their flag signals. When Beatty suddenly put-about and headed north, Craig thought they turned to port rather than starboard. He only caught a fleeting glimpse suggesting the German battlecruisers were giving chase and heading north as well. For a few minutes, Evan-Thomas and his staff were puzzled. Was Beatty retreating north with the Germans in hot pursuit? Or were the Germans trying to flee through the Skagerrak to safety in the Baltic? The bewilderment on Barham’s bridge was quite understandable. The battleship’s wireless room had been wrecked, and Beatty had not bothered to repeat Southampton’s sighting report – Evan-Thomas did not even know Scheer’s battle fleet had been sighted. By now, funnel smoke and gun smoke had darkened the sky, and mixed with a steadily thickening mist until it was nearly impossible to tell where the battle was, or where it was going. And so it came to pass that, around 16:48, Evan-Thomas and his four super-dreadnoughts were steaming south at 24 knots, and about to pass Beatty’s battlecruisers steaming north at 22 knots. Just before HMS Barham thundered past, Beatty hoisted the same flag signal ordering a 16 point turn in succession to starboard. Evan-Thomas still hadn’t a clue as to why – but Barham promptly acknowledged the signal. Now “Fate” once again intervened in the guise of Beatty’s hapless flag-lieutenant, Ralph Seymour. Barham waited for the order to “execute” the maneuver. That was standard signaling procedure. When the Admiral commanding wanted the maneuver to begin, he hauled down his signal flags – which was the order to “execute”. Only then, would the receiving ship, or column, begin to turn. As Lion charged past the 5th Battle Squadron, every ship was able to read the flags – because Seymour never hauled them down! In this picture, you see a column of battleships steaming in “line-ahead” formation. They are executing a “16 point turn to starboard in succession”. In the Royal Navy, a “16 point turn” is simply a 180 degree turn, or, reversing course. “In succession” is a bit more complicated. Counting from the rear of the formation (on right) – the 4th ship is about to start it’s turn. The 5th, 6th, and 7th ships are making the turn. And the 8th ship has completed the turn and steadied-up on a NE course. Each ship must, in turn, steam to position #4 to start it’s turn – thereby turning each successive ship in the same spot. (Kind of like racing yachts rounding the same course buoy -- only much more organized). This is an excellent formation for ship handling in large or small formations. It is a simple maneuver, easily executed, and keeps the #8 ship at the head of the formation (possibly the flagship). The maneuver will also work in a sailing formation with multiple columns of battleships. It also helps a commander keep tight control of his ships because it is very “organized” and discourages reckless behavior. However, in Beatty’s particular situation, it was not the wisest choice he could have made (see text below). Notice the width of distance between ship #4 and ship #8. This is the width of the “turning circle” and clearly demonstrates why all ships should be designed with similar turning circles – and as small as possible. Both USS Oklahoma models (ortho & diagonal) provided by @Barroco Hispano. Five minutes may not seem a very long time, but it was long enough to put Evan-Thomas two miles farther along his course, and to put five miles between him and Beatty. To compound the matter, Beatty had ordered a “turn in succession” to starboard – not the best choice he could have made. As seen in the picture above, a “turn in succession” forces all the ships to turn in the very same patch of ocean. Not only does this maneuver take longer to finish, but in battle, it allows an enemy to concentrate their fire on a single spot and pound each ship as it makes the turn. By now, Evan-Thomas was almost out of sight of Beatty’s battlecruisers, and the reason for Beatty’s sudden course change came steaming over the southeastern Horizon – the whole of the High Sea Fleet. III Battle Squadron of the Hochseeflotte – the eight ships of the Konig and Kaiser Classes in the vanguard (van) of the battle fleet. They are seen in line-ahead steaming north to support Hipper’s Panzerkreuzer. (Claus Bergen) Vizeadmiral Reinhard Scheer, Flottenchef of the Hochseeflotte, stood on the bridge of his flagship, SMS Friedrich der Grosse, as she steamed north at 15 knots. Occasionally, he scanned the northern horizon with his glasses. The wireless room had been receiving regular sighting reports from Vizeadmiral Hipper in SMS Lutzow, so he knew he was approaching the scene of action. What’s more, he would have known he was gradually closing the trap on Beatty’s battlecruisers and the accompanying battleships of the 5th Battle Squadron. And – so far – there had been no evidence placing the Grand Fleet at sea in support of Beatty. This was exactly the kind of ambush the Kaiserliche Marine had been trying to pull off for years. The 4th Scouting Group (light cruisers SMS Stettin, Munchen, Frauenlob, and Stuttgart) and their attendant torpedo boats were deployed about six miles ahead of the battle fleet, while torpedo boat flotillas screened both flanks of the battle line. Around 15:50, Friedrich der Grosse hoisted the signal to “Clear ship for battle” and the klaxons sounded the call. Men dashed about the various decks, running and dodging other men as they made for their assigned stations. The reports began to flow into the Central Command Position deep inside the armored hull...”Artillerie clear” – “Torpedo arm clear” – “Boiler room manned and clear” – “Combat dressing station clear” – “Maschinen spaces clear”. Twelve minutes after the call sounded, “CCP” reported to Kapitan zur See Fuchs...”Ship is clear for battle”. SMS Friedrich der Grosse – Kaiser Class dreadnought battleship – commissioned 1912: 24,724 tons – 22.4 knots – 10x12-inch guns – 14x5.9-inch guns – 12x3.5-inch guns – 5x19.7-inch torpedo tubes. Friedrich der Grosse served as the flagship of the Hochseeflotte from her commissioning until March 1917, when she was replaced with the newly commissioned 15-inch-gunned SMS Baden. The Kaiser Class ships were the second-most modern dreadnoughts of the Kaiserliche Marine and served with the Konig Class in the III Battle Squadron. (Model courtesy of Barroco Hispano.) In the picture below, you will notice that her 565-foot length did not provide sufficient distance between the midships turrets to allow for cross-deck firing. Though possible, the firing arcs would have been woefully inadequate. An additional 60 feet would have made all the difference. The detail of the model is superb, but an error occurred in the arrangement of the midships wing turrets. They are positioned properly on the deck, but the turrets are improperly oriented. German capital ships with this “lozenge pattern” amidships, have the starboard wing turret facing forward, with the port wing turret facing aft. Other than this blindingly obvious “boo-boo” – the model’s detailing is accurate and absolutely exquisite. It is so richly detailed – I simply could not bring myself to leave it out of the CJ. (My apologies.) Around 16:11, with the Hochseeflotte just below the horizon from Hipper, Scheer ordered the battle line to close-up and maintain 500 meters between ships. The gun crews in the big, squat turrets stood frozen, waiting for commands, as the officers behind their rangefinders eagerly scanned the horizon. At 16:30, SMS Konig – leading the battle line – signaled...”Enemy in sight – ahead – 28,000”. As Konteradmiral Behncke watched, the haze and battle smoke rose to reveal a scene of organized chaos. To starboard were Hipper’s Panzerkreuzer on a southerly course, closely engaged with two groups of British capital ships to port – quickly closing the range to the Hochseeflotte. Destroyers, torpedo boats, and light cruisers were swirling and clawing at each other between the big ships, while other British light cruisers could be seen approaching to the west. Scheer signaled for 17 knots to close more quickly. Had the German Flottenchef been more critical in the planning stages of this sortie, he could have ordered 20 or 21 knots – the speed of his dreadnought battleships. But the German battle fleet was hampered by the slow speed of the six pre-dreadnoughts of II Battle Squadron. The old battleships (5 Deutschland Class and 1 Braunschweig Class) were rated at 18 knots, but most likely had to struggle just to sustain 17 knots. The slow speed and comparative vulnerability of the pre-dreadnoughts would limit Scheer’s tactical options and automatically give the Grand Fleet a 4 knot speed advantage. At 16:38, SMS Konig’s foretop lookout reported the British turning onto a northerly course, and two minutes later, Scheer signaled the battleship divisions for a 2 point turn to port, to close the range more quickly. He was within just a few thousand yards of closing the ambush and having Beatty under his guns. He then signaled...”fire distribution order...right to left...ship against ship.” And just two minutes later...”Open fire !” SMS Konig opens fire on Beatty’s battlecruisers at 16:48. Note the massive clouds of Cordite smoke. Now you understand why, after two or three minutes, with ten or twenty ships firing, it would be all but impossible to get a clear view of anything. SMS Konig, leading the battle line, opened at 16:48 – her target HMS Lion – but the range was too great and she ceased fire after two salvos. At this point, it should be remembered Admiral Tirpitz had arbitrarily ruled out the possibility of a fleet engagement beyond 11,000 yards. Consequently, many of the German capital ships were capable of no more than 13.5 degrees of elevation – effectively limiting them to a maximum engagement range of 17,700 yards. When taken under fire, HMS Lion was at approximately 20,500 yards – hopelessly out of range. The failure of Tirpitz to grasp the advances in modern gunnery technology (see chapter 23) had led to poorly designed turrets with too little elevation and range. (After Dogger Bank, German battleships began receiving turret modifications to increase elevation and range – but not all had been completed prior to Jutland.) Tirpitz had given the British a “gift” – and Beatty’s battlecruisers escaped from Scheer’s carefully crafted trap. With Beatty steaming north at high speed, still closely engaged with Hipper’s battlecruisers, 5th Battle Squadron held on -- waiting for Seymour to haul down Lion’s signal flags. Evan-Thomas’ battleships were charging down on the entire High Sea Fleet like the Light Brigade at Balaclava – and that simply would not do. The Admiral finally decided to act on “his own initiative”, and signaled his squadron to...“Conform to flagship’s maneuvers”. HMS Barham’s helm went hard-a-starboard and began to turn away from the enemy. Evan-Thomas might have had four of the most powerful battleships afloat – but he was nobody’s fool – he didn’t fancy being outnumbered four-to-one. As 5th Battle Squadron began their turn, the leading German dreadnoughts took Barham under fire, but the range was still too great. However, Admiral Behncke, having missed Beatty’s battlecruisers -- was determined Evan-Thomas’ ships would not get away. On his own initiative, he signaled III Battle Squadron to “...go to utmost speed...everything the engines can do!” The stand-by stokers poured into the stokeholds to lend their muscle, while the engineers opened up the valves on the oil sprayers. Steam pressure in the boilers began to climb and the thick, oily smoke belched from the funnels as the dreadnoughts gathered speed. Suddenly, the tables had turned and Hipper was chasing Beatty, while Behncke was chasing Evan-Thomas. About the same time, German lookouts sighted Goodenough’s 2nd Light Cruiser Squadron approaching from the northwest. Scheer ordered the battle fleet to engage them with the 5.9-inch secondary batteries – to keep them out of torpedo range. Scheer’s dreadnoughts, holding course to the north, continued to close both Evan-Thomas and Beatty. The 5th Battle Squadron had just began to turn away, and the rear of Beatty’s battlecruisers were, actually, still completing their turn. Unfortunately, Beatty’s flag signal had called for a 16 point turn to starboard “in succession” for both groups. That meant the ships had to continue to steam toward the enemy until they reached the appointed position to begin the turn (see picture above). And each ship would have to turn in the exact same spot – while the German battle fleet closed the range. A distinct tactical blunder on Beatty’s part. For the next few minutes, the leading German dreadnoughts (Konig, Grosser Kurfurst, Markgraf, and Kronprinz) fired ranging salvos that fell short. But as HMS Barham completed her turn and steadied-up on a northerly course (about 16:46), she was hit by a heavy caliber shell from Lutzow, penetrating the forecastle deck abaft “A” turret and exploding on the battery deck below, destroying several compartments and starting a considerable fire. As Behncke’s dreadnoughts came into range, a veritable fusillade followed. Around 16:58, another 12-inch shell ripped a 5-foot hole in Barham’s upper deck near the 6-inch casemate battery, before exploding below and ripping a 10-foot hole in the main deck. The blast wrecked the Medical Store and the Auxiliary Wireless Office, with an unusually large chunk of shrapnel penetrating the armor of the lower conning tower. The Platform Deck was also pierced by red-hot shrapnel, starting a fire and filling the 6-inch magazine and shell room with smoke, while disabling two ammunition hoists. Two minutes later, a shell landed on the aft superstructure near the mainmast, taking out several officer’s cabins, starting a large fire, and knocking-out the main wireless station. Around 17:06 a large caliber shell struck the ship’s side in the fantail area, detonating on contact with the main deck and blowing a 7 x 3-foot hole in it, while blowing another hole in the middle deck below. Shell fragments caused extensive damage to the main, middle, and lower decks – starting a large fire that nearly gutted three decks and all the officer’s accommodations. The last shell struck at 17:10, piercing the forecastle deck just forward of the starboard #1 6-inch gun casemate – peeling back the 1.5-inch deck plates, showering the forecastle with splinters, and starting yet another fire. Though still an effective fighting unit, Barham had suffered serious internal damage and taken substantial losses among the crew. HMS Valiant, also turning on the same point in succession, seemed immune to the enemy fire. Though straddled regularly, the decks deluged with thousands of gallons of water thrown up by near-misses, the battleship emerged from the danger zone unscathed. HMS Warspite followed Valiant through the maze of shell splashes – tall water columns erupting on all sides – water cascading down upon her decks – and the thunder of her own guns shaking the ship with each salvo. During the turn to the north, Valiant was hit with three large caliber shells, but the timing was not noted in her log. One shell struck near the stern, punching through the lower strake of the armor belt below the waterline, and detonated after penetrating the aft capstan flat. The blast blew out a bulkhead and flooded both flats on the middle deck. Another shell struck near the stern below the Admiral’s Day Cabin – right on the waterline. This one opened a hole 4 x 3-feet to the sea, and split the hull plates open for some twenty feet – causing even more flooding in the stern. The last shell struck the upper 6-inch armor strake ahead of the starboard #1 6-inch gun and penetrated twenty-five feet before exploding on the battery deck. The blast shattered two compartments and sent large splinters tearing through compartments as far as forty feet away. By comparison, Warspite’s damage was comparatively light. Malaya’s captain, observing the forest of shell splashes ahead, started his turn earlier, but still received the full fury of the German gunners. SMS Von der Tann took Malaya under fire at 17:00, joined by Kronprinz at 17:06, Kaiser at 17:08, and Moltke at 17:27. (SMS Konig, Grosser Kurfurst, and Markgraf were engaging, respectively, HMS Barham, Valiant, and Warspite.) Konteradmiral Behncke’s dreadnoughts had worked-up to 22 knots, but Evan-Thomas’ faster battleships began to pull away to the north. For fully five minutes during the turn, and the following thirty-five minutes after shaping course north, Malaya was the target of the crack gunnery ships of the German III Battle Squadron. Between six and nine salvos per minute rained down around the super-dreadnought. One of Malaya’s turret captains recalled…… “As I trained my turret around to engage over the starboard side, my telescope revealed the battlecruisers some 8,000 yards ahead of us, and it dawned on me that the four of us of the 5th Battle Squadron would now become the sole source of entertainment for the High Sea Fleet...I expected at any moment any one of those shells should hit us in the right place...our speed would be sadly reduced...and we should fall behind and be sunk...” In the first seventeen minutes, Malaya was struck seven times, with the first shell landing around 17:20 and striking the lower 8-inch belt armor abaft “A” turret. The armor was driven in about two inches with the hull plating behind it driven in also – starting several leaks. The second shell struck the roof of “X” turret at 18:27 – detonating on impact. The blast lifted the armored roof clear of the gun house by about three inches, sheered-off many securing bolts, and put the turret’s “local” rangefinder out of action. At 18:30 a large caliber shell struck the superstructure just behind “B” turret and beneath the bridge, blasting a large hole and starting a raging fire. At the same time a second shell, probably from the same salvo, struck the forecastle deck immediately above the #3 6-inch casemate gun. The impact ripped up the deck planking and left a 5 x 3-foot hole before exploding below – taking out forecastle deck beams, shredding several compartments, distorting the deck plating on the forecastle and battery decks, and carrying away voice pipes, electrical leads and ventilation trunking, as well as blowing the 6-inch gun overboard and starting yet another fire. Eventually, all the starboard 6-inch casemate guns were put out of action by the fire and 102 men became casualties. The flash from the resulting cordite fires also shot down into the 6-inch shell room, forcing prompt action to flood the magazine. This act most likely prevented the adjacent 15-inch “B” turret magazine from exploding and destroying the ship. As destructive as that single shell had been, two more followed simultaneously at 18:35. Probably from the same tightly grouped salvo, the two 12-inch rounds struck Malaya in almost the same area, but below the waterline and below the belt armor. The first shell detonated after impact, ripping a 7 x 4-foot hole in the inner bottom, and leaving hull plates and inner frames torn and buckled. The second shell punched a large hole in the outer skin, but failed to explode and passed out through the double bottom creating another large hole. The end result was serious flooding of two outer oil bunkers and several wing compartments, causing Malaya to take on a 4-degree starboard list within ten minutes. A final large shell struck the 6-inch side armor between “A” and “B” turrets, but detonated on impact, driving in the armor plate some three inches and showering a vast area with splinters. The 4-degree list actually effected her main gun elevation and shortened her firing range. HMS Malaya returning fire on the Hochseeflotte approximately 17:35. The fore-top of HMS Valiant can just be seen above the gun smoke. Malaya’s thick armor belt was undoubtedly effective, but in all truth, it was the handling skill of Captain Algernon Boyle that saved her. For very nearly an hour, with double helmsmen at the wheel, he made sudden and random course changes, throwing off the aim of the German gunners. In spite of Captain Boyle throwing the massive battleship around like a destroyer, Malaya’s gunnery -- and that of the entire 5th Battle Squadron -- was superb. The four fast-battleships rained down as many as sixteen salvos a minute on their German opponents. Four of Hipper’s battlecruisers (still in range) and two of Konteradmiral Behncke’s dreadnoughts were hit by the 1,900-pound 15-inch shells. Five hits were made on SMS Seydlitz alone, several of which fell on her lightly armored forecastle deck. The shells penetrated the thin decks and the lighter belt armor forward of “A” turret, exploding below decks and opening the ship to the sea. One shell (possibly from Barham) tore a 10x13-foot hole near the waterline which let in vast quantities of water. When Beatty had suddenly turned north, Hipper quickly swung the Panzerkreuzer to follow, but Beatty had gained several thousand yards. As the German battlecruisers focused on trying to catch him, many of their officers and crew were unaware the shells falling around them were not from Beatty’s battlecruisers – but from the battleships of the 5th Battle Squadron. A few gunnery officers were shocked when the big shells began to fall among them, but the smoke and sudden course changes had confused them. The reality set in with the first thunderous hits of the 15-inch shells and the massive damage they caused. But Hipper knew all he could do was outrun the battleships – he had no intention of letting Beatty get away. As the 1st Scouting Group came within gun range of Beatty, Hipper altered course to close and resumed fire around 16:57. Beatty was now under fire from four German battlecruisers and four battleships (Von der Tann was still firing on HMS Malaya). HMS Lion on fire after several hits by SMS Lutzow. The gunnery duel continued with increasing ferocity. Soon, Seydlitz was struck on the face-plate of “B” turret, and the turret went out of action. After some minutes, they restored one of the barrels to service, but then the hydraulic elevating gear failed and the turret went silent. She was now down to two operational turrets, but took HMS Tiger under fire when she appeared clearly out of the smoke and mist. At least two hits were observed and Tiger’s “A” turret stopped firing. SMS Lutzow resumed fire on HMS Lion, obtaining hits at 16:59, 17:01, and 17:02. SMS Derfflinger took Princess Royal under fire for some minutes, but Kapitan Hartog quickly realized he was under fire from the 5th Battle Squadron and shifted fire onto HMS Valiant. SMS Moltke fired on HMS New Zealand, but deteriorating visibility and smoke interfered with ranging, so the fire was only intermittent. It was around this time that SMS Prinzregent Luitpold opened fire on New Zealand and repeatedly straddled her. There were no hits, but splinters from near misses peppered the battlecruiser like buckshot. SMS Von der Tann was nearest to 5th Battle Squadron and attracting more than her share of attention. Gamely, she fought back – taking HMS Malaya under fire with her one remaining main battery turret. At least two significant hits were observed on Malaya, one at 17:03 raising a great sheet of flame and starting a large fire. Unfortunately, at 18:18, the two guns of Von der Tann’s “D” turret overheated and came out of battery (just as those of “B” turret, earlier). Now Von der Tann had no heavy guns in operation. Kapitan Zenker did not sheer out of line in his unarmed condition, but chose to remain in the battle line and draw some of the enemy fire away from the other battlecruisers. Relieved from the necessity of providing a steady course for gunnery, Kapitan Zenker began “chasing salvos”, thereby avoiding further damage from the enemy. While hundreds of big shells roared overhead, the smoke billowed across the water and blotted out the sky. British destroyers continued to mill about between the lines of battlecruisers. The threat of a stray torpedo attack was very real, and the gunnery officers of the German 5.9-inch batteries continually peered into the smokey, misting turmoil. A destroyer would appear out of the smoke, orders were shouted into hand sets, and the medium guns opened a fast and furious fire. Moments later, the target disappeared back into the smoke – and the game would begin again. Farther astern, Scheer’s battleships were being similarly harassed by Commodore Goodenough’s 2nd Light Cruiser Squadron. The 5.9-inch guns fired well, but the lunging and weaving light cruisers seemed to lead charmed lives. However -- if the British approached too close, they received the unwelcome attention of the battleships’ 12-inch guns – instantly sending them scurrying out of range. HMS Birmingham -- 2nd Light Cruiser Squadron –31 May 1916 -- 17:53 – under 12-inch fire from battleships of the Hochseeflotte. After completing his turn and steering north, Beatty was anxious to get out of range of the German battle fleet and increased speed to 24 knots. He needed to lure the Hochseeflotte into Jellicoe’s trap, but he did not want to lose any more battlecruisers in the process. Beatty quickly left Scheer’s slow battleships behind in the poor visibility. And since Hipper’s battlecruisers were only making 21 knots (to maintain contact with Scheer), it was simply a matter of a few minutes before he lost sight of them as well. And both Beatty and his hard-pressed squadron needed the breathing room. The prolonged gunnery duel with the German battlecruisers had been far more destructive than anticipated. Hipper’s well-aimed and tightly grouped salvos had destroyed two of his ships and severely mauled the rest. Beatty needed time for his crews to put out their fires, make what repairs they could, and tend to the all too numerous wounded. But – even as the British sought a respite from the enemy guns, the conditions of battle were changing in their favor. Hipper’s gunnery, through no fault of the Germans, was beginning to fall off with the approach of late afternoon. As the sun lowered itself toward the western horizon, it no longer shown down on the British warships – but right into the lenses of the German rangefinders. The only thing to be seen through the smoke, mist, and glare of the sun, were the British gun flashes. Even when the smoke and mist cleared, briefly, there was very little of the enemy to be seen. The shift in the position of the sun disadvantaged Hipper, but only relative to Beatty’s position, and only momentarily. But Hipper’s situation was about to get worse -- at 24 knots, the 5th Battle Squadron was closing on the rear of the Panzerkreuzer even as Beatty was leaving them behind. With the British racing ahead, bearing NW from the German battlecruisers, the German angle of fire changed with each minute that passed. Hipper’s ships were still shrouded in mist and Beatty was still lit by the setting sun – but the sun was no longer glaring into German gun-sights at that angle. Outnumbered five ships to four, and with visibility favoring the Germans, Beatty saw nothing to be gained by continuing the uneven contest. To do so would have risked further losses among his depleted battlecruiser squadrons while his own gunnery would be largely ineffective. Oddly enough, Beatty’s reasoning was sound. During the “Run To The North”, the Imperial Panzerkreuzer (Lutzow) hit HMS Lion with four rounds in quick succession, while Seydlitz landed one on HMS Tiger. By contrast, the British battlecruisers failed to score a single hit. Vice-Admiral Beatty swung onto a NNW course, around 17:35, to open the range -- and disappeared into the smoke and mist. As it turns out, disengaging from Hipper was one of the few smart moves Beatty made that day. Scheer, anxious to “bag” Beatty’s battlecruisers, at 17:20 hoisted the signal “General Chase” to allow the Panzerkreuzer to use their superior speed in an effort to turn Beatty back into the battle fleet’s line of fire. And though willing – Hipper was not sure he could comply. His big cruisers had been steaming at high speed for nearly two hours, rotating stokers in and out of the stokeholds, and shoveling tons and tons of coal into the fireboxes. Not only were the stokers beginning to show signs of exhaustion, but the poor quality of coal was now effecting the speed of the ships. As more and more coal was shoveled into the fireboxes, the quantity of un-burnt “clinkers” rose dramatically. A “clinker” is, simply put, a non-burnable mineral object mixed into the coal – such as too much stone in the mix. Or – a clinker can result from mineral-laden coal ash that melts together and forms large solid blocks inside the firebox. High-grade “Anthracite” coal burns completely – evenly and hot -- a fine gray ash falling through the fire grates into the ash-pan, where it can be raked out with ease. German coal – predominantly “Bituminous” – is rather low-grade and prone to a high proportion of non-burnable clinkers. The clinkers invariably form large chunks that do not fall through the fire grates and have to be raked off the top of the burning mass – sometimes called “trimming a fire”. Basically, the German stokers were shoveling their hearts out, but were fast approaching the point where they would be unable to produce the hot fires needed for the excessively high speeds, of which, their ships were capable. As Hipper chewed his cigar and watched Beatty disappearing from view, he ordered a target shift onto the 5th Battle Squadron. Hipper could not know the full extent of the damage caused by the big guns of the British – but it worried him. He would continue to pursue Beatty to the north, but would, for the moment, turn his guns on those annoying battleships. For almost an hour, beginning with their turn north, 5th Battle Squadron would be Beatty’s rearguard – drawing fire from all the ships within range and fully occupying Hipper’s attention. Evan-Thomas’ super-dreadnoughts were now under fire from both the German battlecruisers to the northeast, and the leading battleships of the Hochseeflotte to the southeast. HMS Barham and Valiant engaged Hipper, while HMS Warspite and Malaya engaged Scheer. During the period after the turn to the north, only HMS Valiant escaped further damage. SMS Derfflinger struck Barham four times, and HMS Malaya was struck by another four shells from the Hochseeflotte battle line. Meanwhile, HMS Warspite was engaged by several battleships of the III Battle Squadron and, in particular, SMS Seydlitz. Around 17:16, a large caliber shell, probably 12-inch, landed on the port side upper deck between “X” and “Y” turrets, smashed a 7 x 3-foot hole in the deck before exploding on the Battery Deck just behind the stern-most 6-inch casemate gun. The “X” turret 15-inch magazine refrigeration unit was destroyed, a fire was started, and the aft fire mains were shot through, flooding three compartments before they could be switched off. Moments later, another shell penetrated the port side upper armor belt between the upper and main decks, but failed to detonate – breaking into large pieces causing splinter damage and ripping out a large section of armor plate on the “X” turret barbette. At 17:19, a shell believed to be from Seydlitz penetrated the hull side plating just below the upper deck, directly in line with the rear portion of “Y” turret barbette. The projectile detonated some 40 feet inside the ship, blowing a 5 x 6-foot hole in the main deck and inflicting severe damage to a dozen different compartments. Captain Philpott’s quarters had a 7 x 4-foot hole blown in the bulkhead, while the escape trunk to the steering compartment was badly damaged and allowed the compartment to flood to a depth of four feet. Two of the aft transverse bulkheads were distorted by the blast with many rivets and bolts sheered-off. The next hit penetrated the armor and wrecked the Captain’s Pantry, while the final hit during this phase (again, from Seydlitz) struck right aft on the waterline – further damaging the stern area and allowing more flooding. Evan-Thomas’ big battleships were far more capable of withstanding this sort of hammering than Beatty’s battlecruisers. None were lost at Jutland, but the super-dreadnoughts were on the receiving end of some of the finest shooting displayed that day. In constant action for just over two hours, Hipper’s gun crews had continued to fire three salvos per minute – well-aimed, with unbelievably tight shot patterns. HMS Barham suffered significant and extensive internal damage, several fires, and heavy casualties, while HMS Malaya was positively battered – very heavy internal damage, an ammunition fire, a 4 degree list caused by flooding, and unusually heavy casualties among the crew. At the same time, the well-trained gun crews of 5th Battle Squadron fired rapid and accurate salvos. Every thirty seconds, the massive 15-inch shells tore through the air, rumbling like a thousand steam locomotives, before throwing up vast columns of water, or crashing violently into the German battlecruisers. The 5th Battle Squadron quickly proved to be a lethal opponent. SMS Lutzow was hit with four shells, three fell on Derfflinger, a whopping six slammed into Seydlitz, and five fell on Scheer’s battleships. (Only SMS Markgraf among the battle fleet suffered any notable damage.) To the perceptive observer, the determined slugging match between Hipper’s Panzerkreuzer and Evan-Thomas’ battleships more clearly demonstrates the inherent defects of British warship design – even more so than the mauling received by Beatty’s battlecruisers. In as much as two British battlecruisers had been sunk by Hipper’s 11-inch and 12-inch guns, his battlecruisers had, so far, survived a brutal pounding by massive 15-inch shells – and with the exception of Von der Tann – they were all in reasonably good fighting order. But Hipper could see some of the huge shells crashing into his battlecruisers and knew they were now at serious risk. HMS Warspite, followed by Valiant and Malaya, settling onto a northerly course, preparing to open fire on the rear of Hipper’s battle line. Photo taken from HMS Barham. At this stage, as “The Run To The North” comes to a close, it is worth taking a moment to examine the performance of the two antagonists. Both the British and German battlecruisers had been firing briskly for nearly two hours, and the only thing slowing them down was the miserable visibility. The German battlecruisers had taken their share of damage during “The Run To The South” -- Von der Tann continued to engage with her 5.9-inch batteries, but her main battery turrets were out of action. Seydlitz lost two main battery turrets, was fairly battered and on fire, and had taken a torpedo, but remained in the battle line. Beyond some battle induced flooding among the remaining ships, it was nothing serious. The Krupp steel was proving more than adequate to resist the British 12-inch and 13.5-inch shells. The Panzerkreuzer were shooting superbly, especially Lutzow, and Hipper’s squadron had pretty much had it their own way. Beatty, on the other hand, was not doing well. During “The Run To The South”, Beatty had under his command six battlecruisers and four fast battleships. During “The Run To The North”, Beatty still had four battlecruisers and four fast battleships. (Beatty had, after all, lost HMS Indefatigable and Queen Mary.) The British gunnery was not at all good. Serious damage was mounting aboard the thinly armored warships -- both internal and external – wrecked compartments, heavy casualties, blasted superstructure, fires, flooding, and burned-out or jammed turrets. And – Hipper accomplished all of this destruction with just five battlecruisers. Both the British and Germans had particularly bad luck with battle damaged main battery turrets. The British tended to lose the “Q” turret on the more modern Lion Class ships – and the ”X” turret on the older Indefatigable design. The Germans seemed to lose their “C” turrets (Von der Tann, Seydlitz, and Derfflinger). It was quite obvious neither the British nor German designers had adequately armored the roof of the turrets. In all probability, the armor requirements were determined by mathematical formula, rather than actual tests on a gun range. Several turrets were also lost or put out of action due to penetration of the barbette armored trunk. It was common design practice in both navies to reduce the thickness of barbette armor as it extended deeper into the bowels of the ship. It was believed an incoming shell would strike light belt armor, armored bulkheads, and armored decks – either detonating the shell before it reached a barbette, or slowing the shell sufficiently to prevent penetration of the armored trunk. In reality, this was a mistaken belief. On “The Run To The North”, everything changed for Hipper. The setting sun to the west threw off the German rangefinders temporarily, only improving as Beatty pulled ahead, changing the firing angle to the northwest and removing the glare from the optical lenses. Nevertheless, the Panzerkreuzer had continued to inflict damage on the British battlecruisers and received very little in return. This situation was dramatically altered only when Evan-Thomas’ 5th Battle Squadron used their speed advantage to bring all 32 of their big guns into action. From that point forward, Hipper was caught between two fires – Beatty to the northwest and the super-dreadnoughts to the southwest. This is the point at which the tide turned against Hipper. And it should be noted for the record, the majority of the vital damage done to the Imperial battlecruisers at the Battle of Jutland was inflicted by 15-inch guns. It is, in all practicality, impossible to assemble accurate figures on how many of Evan-Thomas’ 15-inch shells landed on the German battlecruisers. What was obvious to the naked eye was the extent of destruction each one of those shells caused. When a 15-inch shell impacted a battlecruiser, the blast of the 1,900 pound shell was horrendous. They bored through decks and exploded, shaking the big ships like an earthquake. Interior compartments were blown into contorted shapes and bulkheads pierced by fist-sized pieces of shrapnel. Foot-thick armor plates were punched five inches into the ship’s side, twisting steel support frames, bowing torpedo bulkheads, sending splinters in all directions, and more often than not – resulting in heavy flooding. Flooding damage is insidious – and cumulative. Heavy shells, without penetrating, can violently displace armor plate, sheering rivets, opening seams, and causing leaks. A flooded compartment, though sealed off, can allow water to leak into adjacent compartments through air ducts, voice tubes, and around electrical conduits – and through shrapnel splinter holes. The biggest threat from a 15-inch shell was its’ capability to blast very large holes in thinner belt armor -- opening the ship directly to the sea. Once a compartment is flooded, it can be difficult or impossible to remove the water – especially if the hole is too large to be ”plugged”. In a worst-case scenario, pumps can fail due to battle damage, electrical failure, water damage, or drains clogged with blast debris. A warship can be blazing away with all guns one moment -- and a moment later -- be in danger of foundering, because there is simply too much water sloshing about inside the hull. From the moment 5th Battle Squadron came into effective range, Hipper’s battlecruisers were in extreme danger. German naval architects had designed a magnificent armor suite that made the Imperial battlecruisers superior to any British battlecruiser afloat. SMS Von der Tann, with her eight 11-inch guns, had sent HMS Indefatigable to the bottom within minutes. Derfflinger’s eight 12-inch guns had destroyed HMS Queen Mary with a final, well-placed salvo. But the fast battleships of the Queen Elizabeth Class were an entirely different animal. Tirpitz had never wanted the battlecruisers to serve in the battle line, and he had influenced their design to that end. Even with their superb armor scheme, they were not meant to go toe-to-toe with battleships – especially not the most powerful dreadnoughts in the world. The heavy armor scheme of Hipper’s battlecruisers was designed to withstand 12-inch gunfire, keep them in the battle line, and ensure they survived to return home. The armor would keep them afloat and intact long enough for their 11-inch and 12-inch guns to destroy the lightly armored British battlecruisers. But the architects, guided by Tirpitz’ tactical philosophy and financial restraint, were not allowed to armor the ships against 15-inch gunfire – even when they knew their enemy had such weapons. The 15-inch guns aboard HMS Barham and her sisters were the key to the whole issue. One of Barham’s 1,900 pound shells was, in destructive force, the equivalent of three 11-inch shells, or two 12-inch shells. Their destructive power was simply monstrous by comparison. And Barham and her sisters had the thickest armor of all the battleships present at Jutland. The Imperial battlecruisers could bang away at Barham, steadily inflicting damage, but the big 15-inch guns would, literally, dismantle the German cruisers before they could do lethal harm. Not to digress too much, but 15-inch weapons were briefly discussed for SMS Derfflinger, and Tirpitz deemed them too expensive, and the ship was already on the builder’s slipway. The Imperial Navy High Command then forcefully argued Lutzow should be armed with the big guns. Unfortunately, Tirpitz still did not envision his battlecruisers fighting battleships – so he simply did not understand the need for the bigger guns with their heavier shells. In all truth, neither Tirpitz, nor anyone else in the Kaiserliche Marine, had any battle experience of 15-inch shells. They simply did not know how much damage one of those shells could do. SMS Lutzow’s superb marksmanship astonished the British – and Derfflinger’s 12-inch guns and ability to survive were highly regarded by their opponents. The British nicknamed her “The Iron Dog” out of respect. For just a moment, imagine how different the opening phase of Jutland might have been if the two battlecruisers had been armed with the big 15-inch rifles. Dreadnought battleship SMS Bayern – sister ship SMS Baden: 28,530 tons – 22 knots – 8x15-inch guns – 16x5.9-inch guns – 5x24-inch torpedo tubes – belt armor 13.8 inches. Only recently commissioned for trials, Bayern was left behind when Scheer sailed for Jutland – the crew had only been in training for three weeks. Her speed was slower than the Queen Elizabeth Class fast battleships, but only by two knots. Had she been leading Scheer’s battle line on 31 May 1916, her 15-inch rifles might have made a difference. When inspected by British dockyard authorities after the war, they found her to be equal or superior to anything in the Royal Navy. Below, two views of her moored in the old fleet anchorage at Bremerhaven. Her “off-duty” crew is being rowed ashore to spend the night in their barracks. If you look closely at the landing, you can see contingents of sailors loading into trucks to be taken to their barracks. Bayern is by Barroco Hispano. The small boats, sailors, and much of the “dock clutter” is by "AP". Seawalls by “NBVC”. The rickety pier is from the “PEG” Cannery lot – and the small office is a re-purposed SFBT railroad signal box. SIDEBAR QUEEN ELIZABETH CLASS Fast-Battleships Queen Elizabeth (1914) – Warspite (1915) – Barham (1915) – Valiant (1916) – Malaya (1916) Displacement: 32,590 tons – Length 643 feet – Speed 24 knots – 8x15-inch guns – 12 to 16x6-inch guns (varies between individual ships) – 4x21-inch torpedo tubes – Armor: main belt 13 inches – barbettes 10 inches – turrets 13 inches – conning tower 13 inches. Complement 930 officers and men. At the time of the Battle of Jutland these five ships were considered to be the mightiest dreadnought battleships in the world. It was not because they were the biggest warships, or the fastest, or because they were more heavily armored, or even had the most guns. Their displacement was, in fact, about 5,000 tons heavier than any of the Imperial battleships and battlecruisers, but their armor plate was nearly an inch thinner than the German Konig Class battleships. The speed of the British warships was about 2 knots faster than the German battleships, but between 2 to 3 knots slower than the Panzerkreuzer. The British dreadnoughts carried eight main battery guns while the most modern German dreadnoughts carried ten. In this case, it was not the number of guns that counted – it was the size and weight of shell that made the Queen Elizabeth’s mighty. These dreadnoughts were the only warships in the world to mount 15-inch guns – the Mk-1 BL (breech-loading) 15-inch L/42 rifle – to be precise. It could be pointed out the Royal Navy already had a 13.5-inch weapon firing a 1,400-lb shell – and the US Navy mounted a standard 14-inch weapon firing a similar size shell. But the unquestioned superiority of the British 15-inch gun was derived from the horrendous destructive power of its 1,900-lb shell. The kinetic penetrating power of such a large shell traveling at 2,450 feet per second (roughly ½ mile per second) was enormous. And once it bludgeoned its way inside an enemy hull, the explosive force and resulting damage was almost beyond human comprehension. BELOW you can see the massive size of the turrets designed to house the 101-ton gun tubes. This is a view of the 5th Battle Squadron of the Grand Fleet as it might have looked moored at their buoys off the Rosyth dockyards – just a few days before their rendezvous off the Jutland coast. Left to right: HMS Barham (flag), Valiant, Malaya, and Warspite. HMS Queen Elizabeth is temporarily in the dockyard for periodic maintenance and did not participate in the battle. All five ships of the class were very nearly identical (or as close to “identical” as possible). The only really noticeable difference was in the number and arrangement of the secondary 6-inch gun battery. Some ships had as few as 12 guns, while others had as many as 16. This is a close-up of HMS Barham. You will note Rear-Admiral Hugh Evan-Thomas, flag officer commanding, has his steam launch tied-up at the aft gangway. On the port side, you see the fuel-oil lighter Harold Smith replenishing Barham’s fuel bunkers. The Queen Elizabeth’s were the first battleships in the Royal Navy to be completely oil-fired. Note the prominence of the large gun houses – they had to be large. The 15-inch guns were gigantic compared to 13.5-inch weapons and actually had a 4-foot recoil when fired. You will also notice the small boat traffic between ships and ship-to-shore. HMS Malaya is standing by to unload two lighters full of ship’s stores. “Ship’s Stores” could include such items as canvas tarps, machine oil, rope and hawsers, balk timber, nails and spikes, tools, caulking iron, mops and brooms, galley supplies, leather goods, machine parts, and the inevitable toilet tissue. Malaya clearly demonstrates one of the chief characteristics of all British capital ships – the tall, bulky, built-up design of the fore and aft superstructures, with twin funnels grouped close behind the bridge. Of course, there is also the “trademark” of all English battleships – the soaring tripod foremast with a spotting top. Right next to the voluminous clouds of smoke, the spotting tops appearing over the horizon alerted an enemy to the presence of battleships. HMS Valiant has received a motor launch alongside, no doubt delivering mail bags from ashore. The hull form is shorter, and a bit on the “stubby” side -- but from her foremast to her mainmast – Valiant’s insides are crowded with twenty-four boilers to guarantee her status as a 24-knot fast-battleship. HMS Warspite has two lighters alongside and an Odin Class harbor tug is pushing a third lighter into position. Once the lighters are secured, the ship’s boat boom will hoist cargo nets full of crated fresh provisions aboard. The fuel-oil lighter Harold Smith, the Admiral’s steam launch, and the exquisite battleship model were graciously and expeditiously provided by @Barroco Hispano. The lighters, tugboats, small boats, boat boom, motor launch, and battleship mooring buoys made the creation of these scenes possible – and are generously provided by @AP. Just for those of you that might be curious about the fuel-oil lighter Harold Smith – here is a close-up shot to show the detailing. NEXT TIME…… THE TRAP IS SPRUNG BUT – before you go – we will finish the tour of the ammunition handling facilities…… This is an overview showing the route from the distribution docks (bottom center) back to the ammunition storage bunker complex (top left of center). The road and rail line runs back through a valley between the hills. The bunker complex was built on the far side of the hills to mitigate the effects of any accidental explosions. This is an overview of the bunker complex. You can see a rail line loading dock outside the bunker compound where shells and powder can be brought into the complex by rail or road – and can be sent out to the distribution docks in the harbor. Another loading dock and rail line can be seen inside the compound in the upper left. This one is strictly for the receiving and distribution of torpedoes. This is the receiving and distribution dock for shells and powder. Ammunition can be brought in by rail or sent out to the replenishment docks in the harbor. The loading dock was deliberately built outside the bunker complex and offset from the entrance to the compound to reduce the possibilities of damage in the event of an “accident”. Two shuttle engines with loaded rail cars are preparing to leave for the ammunition piers. To the rear of the loading dock, trucks can be seen unloading shells they have brought out from the bunker complex. To the right of the dock area are the administrative offices of the complex. In this close-up of the dock, you can see full shell racks lined up and waiting to be loaded onto the next available train. You have an excellent view of one of the shuttle engines and the ammunition rail cars. At the rear of the dock a 20-ton crane is unloading shells from the trucks. A railroad crane and shuttle engine are standing by on a siding – in case one of the dockside cranes breaks down. The loading dock is re-purposed from the “PEG SNM Battleship Docks”. The dockside cranes are from the “PEG” trash lots. The railroad crane is from “Simmer2” while its shuttle engine is from “PEG”. The small shuttle engines and ammunition cars are by “AP” – as are the 20-ton cranes, shells, and some of the sailors. The water tower was borrowed from the Maxis Movie Studio lot. This is the main bunker complex. Powder charges are stored in the four large bunkers on the left, while the shells are stored in the smaller bunkers on the right. As you can see, there are practically no structures in the compound other than the bunkers – no need to build anything that might, literally, go up in a large puff of smoke. The bunkers are thick, concrete structures buried under an earthen mound and can be found in the “PEG SNM Series”. This is a close-up of one of the fire-fighting water towers. Beside it, the fire brigade is undergoing training and maintenance of their equipment. The landscape has just a few trees, with some berry bushes scattered about, on gravel-covered terrain. The concrete road sections are “Paeng’s Grunge Concrete” sections with tire tracks -- some of them have been modified for lighting. The fire brigade and their equipment is by “AP”. The trees and berry bushes are by @Girafe and the gravely-looking areas are actually “Heblem” grey sand. This is a view of the outer wall of the bunker complex. This consists of a 16-meter earthen berm built-up around the whole complex, then layered with reinforced concrete on the inner side and a thinner layer on top of the berm. The outer side of the mound has been left natural and a controlled amount of vegetation has been allowed to grow to prevent erosion of the soil. The bunker complex has been built as close as possible to the hills. The building on the left is used for storage of small goods, supplies, and tools, with office space for clerical work and record keeping. The right hand building is used for periodic inspection, maintenance, and testing of the various lots of stored powder and shells. This is the torpedo loading dock on the far side of the compound. A separate dock was provided to reduce the congestion on the main compound. The dockside cranes are 100 ton capacity, while the cranes on the lower level are of 20 ton capacity. When needed, torpedoes are removed from the bunkers on the left, transported by truck to the loading dock, then hoisted across and placed in special railways cars to be carried to the replenishment docks. In this close-up, you get an excellent view of the small shuttle engines and the torpedo laden rail cars. If you look closely, you can see the torpedoes in the back of a truck waiting to be unloaded, while working parties behind the truck are inspecting and preparing other torpedoes that will be hoisted up onto the loading dock in their turn. The cranes, torpedoes, Imperial officers and sailors (black & white uniforms), fire brigade personnel, small shuttle engines and torpedo railway cars -- are all the intricate work of "AP". Without these specialized props, the degree of detail portrayed in this scene simply would not be possible. MANY, MANY, THANKS to @Barroco Hispano for his beautiful warship models and continued support. SPECIAL THANKS to my friend and partner, @AP, for his talents, patience, 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 fast battleships of 5th Battle Squadron, overloading their boilers to exceed their 24-knot design speed. Note the heavy seas taken over the bows as they plunge ahead, trying to catch-up to Beatty’s battle line. HMS Valiant, Warspite, and Malaya as seen from the flagship, HMS Barham. IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: CUXHAVEN By: Dreadnought & AP Chapter 30: "...SOMETHING WRONG WITH OUR BLOODY SHIPS...” Hipper’s 1st Scouting Group was holding a SE course at 22 knots, and maintaining a rapid and accurate fire on the British battlecruisers off their starboard beam. The British had already lost one battlecruiser to the extremely accurate German gunnery, and Hipper was gradually closing the range to inflict even more damage. With each salvo, great masses of gun smoke billowed high into the sky, then blew back across the Panzerkreuzer before trailing away to the ESE. The Gunnery officers waited impatiently until the “fall of shot” clocks sounded the alarm and they watched eagerly as great water columns shot into the air, straddling Beatty’s battlecruisers with a forest of tightly grouped shell splashes. HMS Queen Mary: 26,770 tons – 28 knots – 8x13.5-inch guns – 16x4-inch guns – 2x21-inch torpedo tubes – belt armor 9 inches. Queen Mary was the last battlecruiser to join the fleet before World War I, and the last iteration of the Lion Class ships (“The Splendid Cats”). HMS Tiger would soon follow, but her designed appearance was completely different. For the record – the gun turrets are lettered, bow to stern, as “A”, “B”, “Q”, and “X”. Queen Mary has the same basic deck plan as the Lion Class, allowing for a full 8-gun broadside and wide firing arcs for “Q” turret. (Model courtesy of Barroco Hispano.) HMS Queen Mary, third in line, engaged Seydlitz until 16:17, and had been hit several times by the German battlecruiser. One shell landed in the aft 4 inch gun casemates and started an ammunition fire. At 14,800 yards, Seydlitz hit her a second time, on the right side of “Q” turret. The shell failed to penetrate, but the impact was so severe it put the right hand gun out of action. When Lion sheered out of line, Derfflinger took Queen Mary under fire at 14,400 yards and Queen Mary returned Derfflinger’s fire around 16:17. Some nine minutes later, three shells out of a four-gun salvo fired by Seydlitz were seen to strike Queen Mary (an amazingly tight grouping), raising a small smoke cloud amidships, near “Q” turret. Only seconds later, Derfflinger’s salvo landed two 12-inch shells near Queen Mary’s “A” turret -- and a tremendous yellow flame instantly shot into the air. Derfflinger’s Korvettenkapitan Hase wrote…… “Queen Mary and Derfflinger settled into a regular gunnery duel carried out overhead of the torpedo boat and destroyer action raging between the battle lines. The enemy was shooting superbly. Twice Derfflinger came under their fire – and twice she was hit. Queen Mary was also under fire from Seydlitz, who’s Gunnery Control Officer was Korvettenkapitan Foerster – our crack gunnery expert. Since 16:22 every one of our salvos had straddled the enemy, and around 16:25 a salvo (presumably from Seydlitz) was seen to crash into the area of Queen Mary’s “Q” turret, followed by a huge sheet of flame and smoke shooting high into the air. Seconds later, our own salvo landed near her forward turrets. A red flame shot up through her fore-deck, abreast the gun turrets, followed by a visible explosion, and then – a huge explosion amidships. Black smoke began to shoot skyward, filled with debris and parts of the ship. Amid a monstrous black cloud, the enemy ship seemed to lift itself from the water, shuddering, with the middle blown out. A massive cloud towered a thousand feet in the air. The battlecruiser’s masts collapsed inwards into the smoke and nothing more could be seen.” (This was approximately thirty-seven minutes into the battle.) This detail shot of Queen Mary shows her steering SE under fire from Seydlitz and Derfflinger. Seydlitz landed a lethal salvo that penetrated the deck abreast “Q” turret and most likely went on to penetrate the turret’s lower barbette armor. The shells touched off her midships powder magazine. Mere seconds later, Derfflinger landed a salvo abreast of the forward turrets which most likely touched off those magazines as well. The nearly simultaneous explosion of both magazines was more than enough to destroy the battlecruiser. HMS Princess Royal (left of picture) comes under heavy fire as the smoke continues to rise over HMS Queen Mary’s grave. The original of this photo can be found on file in the Imperial War Museum, London. If you think it has been re-touched, you are correct. The original image was faded, grainy, and somewhat over-exposed. Photo experts worked with the light and dark contrasts, and eventually had to “artistically” alter the picture to bring out the details. None of the basic information contained in the original was lost, but this re-touched original makes a stunning and far more dramatic presentation of the cataclysmic event. It was 16:26 when Queen Mary blew up. Beatty and Ernle Chatfield, his Flag-Captain, were standing on Lion’s port bridge wing when the force of the tremendous explosion washed over them. Both men spun round in time to witness the unpleasant spectacle unfolding before their eyes. They remained in stony silence until the gigantic smoke cloud began to dissipate, then Beatty turned to Chatfield...”There seems to be something wrong with our bloody ships today…”. Chatfield, stunned by the depth of understatement, made no comment. Such prudence would see him promoted Admiral Of The Fleet in 1935. And most historians applaud the cool and collected manner in which Beatty took the catastrophic loss of two capital ships – but few of them point out the obvious – it didn’t have to happen that way. Had Beatty kept the 5th Battle Squadron on a tight leash, it’s entirely possible Hipper might have suffered the losses. But Beatty had charged off after the German battlecruisers in fine “fox-hunting” style and high hubris – ignoring the First Rule Of War – “Never underestimate your enemy”. HMS Queen Mary had broken in two, and the aft portion was still afloat as New Zealand passed by. Only eighteen survivors were plucked out of the water by the destroyers HMS Laurel and Petard, and the German torpedo boat V-28. A total of 1,266 men went down with her. (Every year, on 31 May, at 16:26 – the exact time of her sinking -- a Royal Navy warship is privileged to perform a wreath-laying ceremony over her wreckage.) During the brief exchange, only Seydlitz was hit, with a 13.5 inch shell penetrating the starboard #6 5.9-inch casemate in the secondary battery – putting the gun out of action. Amid all this chaos, SMS Moltke continued to fire on HMS Tiger – though Tiger was engaged with Von der Tann at the time. The German battlecruiser scored a total of five 11-inch hits between 16:05 and 16:35, two of which hit the 6-inch upper belt and the 9-inch lower belt just aft of the forward engine room. The armor was not penetrated, but it was pushed in about four inches, causing several leaks. Tiger, though still full of fight, had been suffering terribly under Moltke’s accurate salvos. There was a great deal of “superficial” damage – gaping holes in superstructure compartments – funnels shot through – a fair number of wounded and dead -- and numerous hits on the armor belt that displaced plates and started leaks. But – so far – there had been nothing critical. Around the same time, Moltke launched four torpedoes toward the British line, three of which were sighted by them, but there were no hits. Aboard SMS Lutzow, amid the swirling smoke and thunderous gunfire, Hipper had already been informed Indefatigable had gone down, and he watched Lion sheer out of line, followed at 16:26 by the signal that Queen Mary had been sunk. Hipper now outnumbered Beatty’s battlecruisers by five-to-four. He was also informed the 5th Battle Squadron had opened fire on the light cruisers of 2nd Scouting Group. The small cruisers were screening the tail of his battle line, but they would have to give way in the face of such a force. Though the battle seemed to be going his way at the moment, the powerful British battleships would soon come in range of Von der Tann – and all Hell would break lose. Hipper signaled the squadron to increase to 23 knots – hoping he could hold the enemy battleships at a distance. He could run away from them – but his job was to lead them to destruction under Scheer’s guns. Still, the old buccaneer sensed an opportunity, and he chose to press his momentary advantage. He signaled a course change -- one point to starboard – to close the range on Beatty. Beatty, fully aware he had lost two battlecruisers, was under a good deal of pressure. Even he realized the damage to his ships continued to mount while the German battlecruisers were still delivering rapid and accurate salvos. HMS Lion (having resumed her position in line) was down to a six-gun broadside with fires raging on the forecastle and amidships, while Princess Royal could only present a four-gun broadside. (Though Beatty was probably unaware of it at the time, the British seemed to be having particularly bad luck with their “Q” turret installations. The designers appear to have thought “amidships” was a good place to locate a main battery turret. It also happened to be where German fire control officers were most likely to place the cross-hairs of their gun-pointers.) In an effort to relieve the pressure, Beatty sent in the 9th Destroyer Flotilla, from the head of his line. HMS Nestor, commanded by Captain Barry Bingham, led the attack. As the British destroyers increased speed and swung about, Kommodore Heinrich (commander torpedo boat flotillas) in the light cruiser SMS Regensburg, spotted them and exercised his own initiative. The Kommodore quickly signaled his torpedo boats and went in to break up the approaching attack. German torpedo boats race toward the British battle line to disrupt an approaching destroyer attack. (Illustration by noted marine artist Willy Stower.) Thick, billowing smoke spewed from the funnels of fifteen German torpedo boats as they lunged forward at full revolutions. Some boats followed their Leader (SMS Regensburg) and cut across Lutzow’s bows to get at the British battlecruisers. Other boats, their captains eager to get at the enemy (and a bit more daring), used their high speed to “cut the line” – slipping through the three hundred yard gaps between the massive battlecruisers. Once on the other side of Hipper’s battle line, the boats rallied briefly, then tore off toward the fast-approaching swarm of British destroyers led by the light cruiser HMS Champion. The tiny German boats plunged headlong into the waves, some managing 33 knots, with their slender hulls bucking and rolling, and masses of funnel smoke trailing away astern. German torpedo boats were just that – torpedo boats. They had a minimal gun armament of two or three 3.4-inch deck guns, but usually carried six torpedo tubes. British destroyers were designed to defend against enemy torpedo boats and usually mounted four 4-inch guns, but only two torpedo tubes. Consequently, as the range between the two swarms closed, the British opened fire first. German captains twisted and turned the hurtling little boats, dodging shellfire while their smaller guns returned fire. Onward, into the midst of the enemy -- commands shouted along decks running knee-deep with seawater – guns blazing away to port and starboard. A fleeting target appears and a torpedo is loosed at an enemy. The helm goes hard over to avoid a collision – more gunfire – a shell passes through the funnel – the little craft slews round and charges toward another enemy. The confused, swirling melee went on for what seemed hours, but was only about fifteen minutes. So many destroyers and torpedo boats were milling about between the lines, it become impossible to tell friend from foe as the thickening smoke clouds hung low on the water. Inevitably, like the terriers they were, a few ships managed to break loose and close on the big ships. Many torpedoes were fired in the melee, both British and German, but Hipper and Beatty turned away from the torpedo attacks (a standard defensive maneuver adopted by both navies). The capital ships escaped unharmed – with the exception of Seydlitz (she was having her share of bad luck). Seydlitz was hit at 16:37 by a torpedo fired from HMS Petard. The torpedo struck the starboard side forward, below the armor belt, and ripped a hole 40 feet long by 13 feet high. Though taking on water, the inner torpedo bulkhead held, and the battlecruiser maintained her speed and place in the battle line. The small craft would continue their vicious dogfight until Beatty recalled his destroyers around 16:40. The ruthless little skirmish had entailed a good deal of sound and fury, resulting in quite a bit of damage and a few “kills”. HMS Petard torpedoed and sank V-29, her second kill of the day. The German V-27 was hit several times and disabled, and battle conditions prohibited towing, so they scuttled her. HMS Nestor and Nomad were dead-in-the-water from gunfire and were eventually sunk by the battleships of the Hochseeflotte as they passed by headed north. Commander Bingham (HMS Nestor) spent the rest of the war as a guest of the German Empire -- but lived to receive the Victoria Cross. The fast battleships of the 5th Battle Squadron closing on 2nd Scouting Group at the rear of Hipper’s battle line. HMS Barham leading and Valiant following – as seen from HMS Warspite. With the opposing battlecruiser squadrons holding course to the SE at high speed, locked in mortal combat, and the destroyer melee between the battle lines in full hue and cry -- things began to go badly at the rear of the German battle line. The light cruisers of 2nd Scouting Group (SMS Frankfurt, Pillau, Elbing, and Wiesbaden) were dutifully screening the tail of Hipper’s column, and Admiral Boedicker had been watching somewhat grimly as Rear-Admiral Sir Hugh Evan-Thomas bore down on him with the powerful 5th Battle Squadron. HMS Barham (flag) was leading the squadron and from the way she plunged into the rolling waves, throwing spray up to the bridge, she was doing every bit of the 24 knots she was designed for. HMS Malaya opening fire with her powerful 15-inch guns. Note the large volume of thick smoke issuing from the gun tubes. A lot of Cordite is required to launch a 1,900-pound shell – and that means voluminous smoke clouds. At 15:58 the first 15-inch shells splashed down 300 meters from SMS Frankfurt. As the salvos began to fall at regular intervals, Boedicker deployed a new device – “smoke floats”. These were ignited and dropped overboard, quickly creating a very effective smokescreen. Barham temporarily ceased fire when her target was obscured, but resumed fire after a short interval, firing into the smoke to no effect. Boedicker sent a contact report to Hipper, then wisely withdrew at high speed to the NE, later altering SE to rejoin Hipper. By 16:06, Barham had closed the tail of the German battlecruiser line and opened on Von der Tann at 20,000 yards. Within minutes the remaining battleships joined in – Barham and Valiant concentrating on Moltke -- with Warspite and Malaya firing on Von der Tann. Whatever temporary advantage Hipper may have had, evaporated like a desert mirage. The German battlecruisers, with 11-inch and 12-inch guns, were now fighting battlecruisers and battleships armed with 13.5-inch and 15-inch guns. Still out of range of Von der Tann’s guns, it was much like target practice for Evan-Thomas’ ships – and all Jellicoe’s training would pay off. It would soon become apparent -- no matter how good the Panzerkreuzer were, or how well they were led – Tirpitz should have given them bigger guns. The strength of the Imperial German battlecruisers, the skill of their Admiral, and the courage of their crews would surely be tested to the limit this day. SMS Moltke, prior to the sortie, taking on provisions and stores while moored in Schillig Roads on picket duty. Alongside, a Thor Class tug is preparing to unload a lighter filled with fresh fruit and vegetables. A Sophia Class paddle tug stands by with two lighters containing various ship’s stores and dry goods. In the picture below, you can see the intricate detail on the battlecruiser, tug, and lighter. The mooring buoys, battlecruiser, tugs, and lighters are all the wonderful work of @AP. SMS Moltke now came under a sustained fire from HMS Barham and Valiant. At 16:16, she was hit by a 15-inch round from Barham. The projectile penetrated the armor below #5 casemate, knocking out the 5.9-inch gun, killing the crew, and penetrating an upper coal bunker before detonating. At 16:23 another 15-inch shell detonated against the waterline belt abreast the forward funnel. It did not penetrate, but displaced the armor plate, rupturing the hull skin and causing flooding in the wing passage and a protective coal bunker. At 16:26 (about the same time Queen Mary was going down), a shell struck aft, underwater, and crossed to the port side before detonating and caused additional flooding in the stern. Again, at 16:27, a 15-inch shell detonated on the armor belt abreast the aft superstructure and caused more flooding in the wing passage and another protective coal bunker. The hardened Krupp armor proved equal to the task and prevented the shells from penetrating the ship, but the massive concussive force of the 1,900-pound shells was pushing in plates, sheering bolts and rivets, and starting leaks. These four hits, alone, caused Moltke to take on 1,000 tons of water and a three degree starboard list. In order to maintain a level and steady gun platform, Kapitan von Karpf evened the keel by counter-flooding. The 5th battle Squadron continued to fire regular salvos with frequent hits. It should be remembered the battleships had received the benefit of gunnery practice with the Grand Fleet and were also equipped with the new fifteen-foot rangefinders. The heavy shells from HMS Warspite and Malaya raised tall water columns all about Von der Tann -- frequently obscuring her from sight. At 16:09, a 15-inch shell struck to starboard aft, on the joint of two armor plates, and detonated during penetration. Large pieces of shrapnel entered the ship and caused two compartments to take on more water -- some 600 tons. The concussive force of the big shells shook the ship violently and briefly caused a steering engine to malfunction. The engineering staff worked furiously in the stifling heat of the cramped and dimly lit steering engine compartment. They were all aware what the loss of a steering engine could mean at this critical moment – and they quickly brought it back on line. But worse was yet to come. At 16:20, a 15-inch shell penetrated “A” turret barbette. There was little fire damage and no danger of explosion, but the massive blast of the 1,900-pound shell jammed the turret fast – taking it out of action. SMS Von der Tann -- the main battery turrets are lettered from bow to stern: “A” turret, “B” turret (starboard wing), “C” turret (aft), and “D” turret (port wing). Model courtesy of @Barroco Hispano. Below is a close-up of the forecastle and “A” turret. The shell would have struck the starboard side of the barbette where the gunhouse joins to the circular barbette – damaging the turret “race” (the revolving bearings of the training mechanism). At 16:32 another 15-inch shell crashed through Von der Tann’s fantail deck, penetrated to the battery deck, and detonated against the “C” turret barbette. The shock of the massive blast caused the turret to jam, the turning mechanism fouled by bent and distorted steel. The damage outside the barbette was devastating. Surrounding compartments were blown apart and transformed into twisted and shredded steel plates. This shell also caused a more pressing problem. The anti-torpedo nets were blasted loose and left dangling over the side – threatening to foul the propellers – until a crew of brave men went on deck under heavy fire to secure them. The 15-inch shell would have punched a large hole in the fantail deck (or quarter deck) on the starboard side, close to the deck edge -- approximately where the mooring bollards are. The turret would have been trained over the starboard side when the blast jammed it. You can just make out the anti-torpedo netting along the edge of the lower battery deck. The force of the blast and the severe jolt of the explosion would have wrenched the net restraints loose and bent or broken the net booms – leaving the steel mesh nets trailing in the water. When the range fell to 17,000 yards, Von der Tann began hitting back, and at 16:23 landed a shell on Barham’s armor belt forward. The shell did not penetrate, but pushed the armor in three inches and started leaks. At 16:26 she scored a hit on New Zealand which penetrated her deck and punched out a large piece of armor from “X” turret barbette, jamming the turret for some time. By 16:30, Von der Tann was down to only “B” and “D” turrets left in operation (the midships wing turrets) and she was having difficulty acquiring a target due to the restricted firing arcs, but she continued to fire whenever her guns would bear. (This is where it paid off to reinforce the midships deck armor for cross-deck firing.) SMS Von der Tann – midships area. This is a close-up of “B” turret – the starboard “wing” turret, and “D” turret – the “port” wing turret. (Model courtesy of Barroco Hispano.) Shortly thereafter, Von der Tann’s “B” turret (starboard wing) broke down. On the last salvo, the two big 11-inch rifles went “out of battery” and jammed in the recoil position. (The reason is not clear, but it’s possible there was a leak in the hydraulic system, or the prolonged rapid firing caused extreme over-heating.) Von der Tann had suffered a severe pounding at the hands of two Queen Elizabeth Class battleships, and she was down to just two operable gun tubes – but Blohm & Voss had done their work well – she was still afloat and able to maintain her place in the battle line. From Lutzow’s bridge, Hipper could see the forest of shell splashes enveloping the rear of his line and decided, at 16:27, it was time to break off this unequal contest. He signaled his ships to turn away together (a simultaneous turn by all five ships), 122 degrees, to the southeast. At the head of the line, around 16:28, another little drama played out on Lion’s bridge. A well-placed salvo landed around Princess Royal (astern of Lion) and the tightly grouped water columns completely obscured the battlecruiser. An over-excited signalman promptly ran onto the Admiral’s bridge and announced...”Sir! Princess Royal’s blown up!” Beatty and Chatfield dashed out onto the bridge wing and stared aft in disbelief. A moment later, the shell splashes subsided and Princess Royal was still steaming along with guns blazing. Needless to say, Lion’s bridge contained one very angry Admiral, and a signalman about to receive the sharp edge of his tongue. HMS Southampton, flagship 2nd Cruiser Squadron, as she would have appeared on 31 May 1916. Displacement – 5,400 tons – 25.5 knots – 8x6-inch guns – 2x21-inch torpedo tubes – belt armor 2 inches. Some two and a half miles to the southeast of all the chaos, the British 2nd Light Cruiser Squadron was fanned out on a wide search pattern ahead of Beatty’s Battlecruiser Fleet. Commodore William Goodenough, his flag in HMS Southampton, was the farthest to the east, with HMS Birmingham, Nottingham, and Dublin stretching toward the west. Goodenough was a “cruiser man”. He relished being out on his own, his cruisers racing along, poking their noses into every little thing to see what was what. Much like the free-wheeling frigate captains of Nelson’s day. He simply didn’t have the restrained and prudent temperament of a “battleship captain”. He had resisted the urge to throw his squadron into the destroyer melee going on astern – which was more to his taste than a docile scouting mission. But the Commodore had acted rashly in the past and was not one of Beatty’s “favorites” – so he thought it better to stick to the rules and “be a good lad”. As he stood on the bridge, possibly regretting his decision, the lookout rang down from the foremast and the Commodore’s ears perked up. Flag-lieutenant Arthur Peters answered the hand-set, then turned slightly...”Smoke, sir – two points off the port bow.” Goodenough snatched up his glasses and focused on the horizon...”Helm – two points to port – make revolutions for 22 knots”. The agile cruiser swung gently, gathering speed as the staff clustered on the small bridge. Moments later, wisps of smoke were seen – gradually building and growing as Southampton approached. Within minutes there was a great pall of smoke trailing to the east. And then suddenly, as if by magic, there were the masts, funnels, and upper-works of battleships rising over the horizon. Peters, a little awed by the sight, spoke as the cruiser raced on...”Look, Sir -- this is a light cruiser’s day of a lifetime! The whole of the High Seas Fleet is before you.” This was their mission – what they had trained for – what they were paid to do. The handset from the fore-top rang again, and the lookout filled in the details: sixteen battleships with a torpedo boat screen on either bow, in single-line-ahead, with six smaller battleships bringing up the rear. For the first time in two years of war, the Royal Navy was witness to the full deployment of the Hochseeflotte battle line. The range, rapidly closing, was about 7 miles – 13,000 yards. Peters was filling out a signal pad, ready to send a wireless to Beatty – the primary reason the cruiser squadron existed. As the range continued to close, Commander Edward Rushton remarked...”If you’re going to make that signal, you’d better do it now, Sir – you may never make another”. Peters had already sent the signal, and Goodenough smiled, but did not lower his glasses. Rushton, getting a bit tense, said, as if to himself...”This is madness.” The Commodore lowered the glasses and laughed...”No, no, Commander. Clearly I can do no wrong this day – whatever stupidities I may have committed on other days.” SMS Konig – Konig Class dreadnought battleship – 4 ships commissioned in 1912 and 1913: 25,796 tons – 21 knots – 10x12-inch guns – 14x5.9-inch guns – 5x19.7-inch torpedo tubes – belt armor 13.8 inches. Designed in 1910-1911, these were the most modern and most powerful battleships in the Kaiserliche Marine when war broke out in 1914. They were also the first and only German capital ships to have five main battery turrets on the centreline. On 31 May 1916, Konig was flying the flag of Konteradmiral Paul Behncke, leading the III Battle Squadron, in the vanguard of the Hochseeflotte. Her image would have loomed large and menacing as Commodore Goodenough closed the range from the NW. Unfortunately, I do not have a model of Konig as she would have appeared during the war. This one represents a 1932 design study done by the Reichsmarine in the Wiemar Republic period. However, the Reichsmarine was working within a tight budget, with reduced staff, and fewer design facilities at their disposal. Consequently, they largely kept to the original design parameters and only updated them to reflect technological advances. The changes to the original plan are, for the most part, in their machinery – or are largely visual. In short – they would have been a few knots faster, and looked more modern – but the guns, hull form, and armor would have remained the same as in 1913. This is a comparison between SMS Konig and Derfflinger. The obvious difference in length is entirely due to the difference in speed. At 28 knots, Derfflinger’s considerably longer hull was designed to accommodate the more numerous boilers required to generate that power. The battleship was only designed for 21 knots, so she did not require the elongated hull – but she did pack a more powerful punch into the shorter hull. You will note the similarity in basic design: superfiring 12-inch turrets fore and aft (but with a fifth turret amidships) – twin funnels – and the secondary battery of 5.9-inch guns arrayed in casemates on the Battery Deck. In this detailed comparison, you can pick out the differences and, perhaps, imagine what the battleship might have looked like in 1913. First: there would have been a pole mast forward on the battleship instead of the cumbersome 1932 “military mast”. Second: the funnels would have been larger, and without the “raked” funnel caps. Third: there would be no aircraft catapult on the midships turret. And fourth: the forward and aft superstructure elements would not be as heavy, tall, and built-up as they are in the 1932 version. The bridge and superstructure elements of the 1913 Konig would have looked very similar to what you see on Derfflinger – visually simple, utilitarian, and not more than one deck higher than the armored conning tower. In my opinion, the Konig of 1913 would have been just as powerful, but far more pleasing to the eye than the 1932 design study. (Models courtesy of Barroco Hispano.) Southampton closed to within 12,000 yards – close enough to identify the flag of Konteradmiral Paul Behncke flying above SMS Konig. Any one of fifty 12-inch guns could have blown the little cruiser to oblivion – but the German gunnery officers were having trouble identifying the hazy bow-on view. When they did open fire, Southampton’s helm instantly went hard over and she increased speed to 25 knots. The narrow-hulled cruiser leaned so far into the turn her railings nearly brushed the water. She signaled her consorts (Birmingham, Nottingham, and Dublin) and made off on a zig-zag course as huge fountains of water erupted all about her. Goodenough was determined to maintain contact with the German battle fleet so he could send regular sighting reports to Beatty. But with the mist and haze being what it was, he could only do that if he remained within gun range of the German battleships. Well over forty large shells had already fallen within 75 yards of Southampton, so this was going to be sticky business. Lieutenant Ralph Ireland, the navigation officer, put into action a plan he had worked out some time before – “salvo chasing”. He directed the helmsman to steer the ship toward the last splash of an enemy salvo. The German gunnery officers would make corrections when shells fell “over” or “short” – so by steering toward the splashes, Ireland ensured the ship would never be where they thought. (This was a brilliant idea – but only if the Germans didn’t catch-on to the trick.) SMS Konig, leading the Imperial battle fleet, takes Goodenough’s cruisers under fire as they close the range and signal the position of the German warships to Admiral Jellicoe. HMS Lion picked up Southampton’s sighting report (as did Admiral Jellicoe) and Beatty altered course toward her position. Lion was still in line, but she was in bad shape. One of her four turrets was knocked out and the fires on her forecastle and midships were still raging. She’d been hit in the aft superstructure, leaving a gaping hole in the deck, and two demolished steam launches. Two shells had plunged through the weather deck only feet apart and exploded on the Mess Deck, starting yet another raging fire. Her unreliable dynamos were still functioning, but not at full power, and the mains had been hit in several places so parts of the below-decks were in darkness. The lack of electrical strength had reduced Beatty to using Princess Royal as a “relay” signaling ship for long-range WT traffic. Within minutes, Beatty had visual confirmation the Hochseeflotte was NOT at anchor in the Jade. It was just 12 miles away in line-ahead battle formation and already firing hotly on his scouting cruisers. Beatty had very nearly fallen into the trap set by Scheer. In a matter of moments, he would signal the remaining ships of the Battlecruiser Fleet to turn 16 points to starboard “in succession” – reversing his course. His duty now – was to lure Scheer’s fleet into Jellicoe’s trap. At this point, the “run to the south” is over – but it is worth taking stock. Between 15:48, when the engagement began, to 16:54 (one hour and six minutes), when Beatty reversed course to the NW – the 1st Scouting Group (Imperial battlecruisers) obtained an estimated forty-four 11-inch and 12-inch hits on the British battlecruisers; 9 on Lion – 6 on Princess Royal – 7 on Queen Mary – 14 on Tiger – 1 on New Zealand – 5 on Indefatigable – and 2 on the battleship Barham. By comparison, The Battlecruiser Fleet obtained only eleven 13.5-inch and six 15-inch hits on the German Panzerkreuzer: 4 on Lutzow – 4 on Seydlitz – 2 on Moltke – 1 on Von der Tann, and with 15-inch shells: 1 on Seydlitz – 4 on Moltke – and 1 on Von der Tann. By the end of the “run to the south”, the British had lost 2 battlecruisers and 2 destroyers – while the Germans lost 2 torpedo boats. Again, I have provided a concise map to help you keep track of the confused action. If you have questions – feel free to ask – and I will do my best to answer. BATTLECRUISER ACTION – “RUN TO THE SOUTH” (1) 15:22 - Hipper sights Beatty. (2) 15:48 - First shots fired by Hipper's squadron. (3) 16:00 -16:05 - Indefatigable explodes, leaving two survivors. (4) 16:25 - Queen Mary explodes, eighteen survive. (5) 16:45 - Beatty's battlecruisers move out of range – “Run To The North”. (6) 16:54 - Evan-Thomas's battleships turn north behind Beatty. NEXT TIME…… THE RUN TO THE NORTH 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 Run To The South – HMS Lion, Princess Royal, Queen Mary, and Tiger return fire – 15:48 -- 31 May 1916. IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: CUXHAVEN By: Dreadnought & AP Chapter 29: RUN TO THE SOUTH SMS Von der Tann, bringing up the rear of Hipper’s battle line. She is traveling at high speed and battle has not yet been joined. You can also see the torpedo boat screen on her port beam. If a Dane had been walking along a Jutland beach on the afternoon of 31 May 1916, he might easily have looked out to sea – just a bit bewildered. The sky was misty, with some haze, and no sign of a storm brewing. But if he listened carefully, he might have heard the rumble of distant thunder – long and rolling – continuous. He could not possibly have known that many miles out in the North Sea, the advance units of two great battle fleets had stumbled into one another, and the greatest clash of dreadnoughts in all of history had begun. The Imperial German battlecruisers of Vizeadmiral Franz von Hipper’s 1st Scouting Group were steaming SE at 22 knots, exchanging fire with Beatty’s British Battlecruiser Fleet on their starboard beam. Great billowing clouds of funnel smoke poured into the sky and mixed with huge blotches of flame and smoke as the German guns crashed out. Hipper’s light cruisers and torpedo boats were tearing ahead, straining to take up station on his disengaged port side. The Panzerkreuzer had opened fire at 15:48, and quickly settled into a steady and accurate fire, with Lutzow (flag) leading the column. Korvettenkapitan Paschen, Lutzow’s Chief Fire Control Officer, described the first few critical minutes…… “HMS Lion was taken under fire. We fired the first salvo from all four turrets and found it unsatisfactory. They fell predominantly short and concealed the entire target with water columns. For the remainder of the battle, Lutzow fired alternating salvo fire – both forward turrets, followed by both aft turrets. We fired again – flight time 22 seconds. Impact -- left ahead of bow. Deflection 12 right. Salvo! The ship trembles as ‘C’ and ‘D’ turrets fire. Impact – over amidships! Eight down – salvo! Over! Eight down – Salvo! Straddle – hit near bridge!” Two and a half minutes into the engagement, Lutzow had found the enemy’s range and scored the first hit. SMS Lutzow opens fire – 15:48. She is traveling at high speed and the British battlecruisers can just be see in the distance off her starboard beam. Following her are Derfflinger, Seydlitz, Moltke, and Von der Tann. Note the huge smoke cloud from the forward turrets. (Claus Bergen) Astern of the flagship, Korvettenkapitan von Hase, in Derfflinger’s conning tower fire control, was not quite as quick…… “Like thunder our first salvo crashes out. The splashes are well together, but over and right of Princess Royal. Deflection left 2 – down 400 – Salvo! Over! Down 400 – Salvo! Over! Down 800 – Salvo! This, too, went over and I realized my last correction had not been heard or not executed. Down 800! Execute! Salvo! Over! The sixth salvo fired at 15:52 straddled the target – three splashes over and one short at 13,000 yards. At 15:58 a salvo struck the British battlecruiser with two of our 12 inch shells!” The first armor-piercing shell penetrated Princess Royal’s 6-inch belt armor and detonated in a coal bunker. The second shell burst against the armor belt and drove it inboard to a depth of four inches. The impact shock of the two shells temporarily disabled the battlecruiser’s fore-top fire control instruments and control had to be switched to the “B” turret rangefinder. Later, about 16:00, another 12-inch shell struck just below the upper deck at “B” turret, went through the Ward Room bulkhead, an adjacent coaling trunk, and detonated on the turret barbette armor. The explosion pushed the thick plate in about an inch, severely damaged the adjacent compartments, and started several fires – killing 8 and wounding 38. But for some reason unknown to the Germans, though the British had finally begun to return fire, no one was shooting at Derfflinger. As “tactical #3” in the line, SMS Seydlitz was firing on her opposite number, HMS Queen Mary. Her Fire Control Officer, Korvettenkapitan Foerster, received the flagship’s signal and opened fire at 16,400 yards. It is not known if Queen Mary was struck during the opening phase of the battle – her ship’s log did not survive – and Seydlitz was suddenly enveloped in her own emergency. Ten minutes after fire was opened, Foerster’s attention was diverted… “Habler, in Artillery Central, reported by telephone...’Turret Caesar does not give any answer – smoke is pouring out of their speaking tube’. This was the exact same report I had received at the beginning of the Dogger Bank action. I instantly knew we had been hit and the powder cartridges in Caesar turret’s trunk were on fire – the turret was out of action. I mechanically ordered the ‘C’ turret magazine flooded. With the chamber under water, there would be no further danger to the ship.” SMS Seydlitz was hotly engaged with HMS Queen Mary to starboard, steaming at 22 knots, on a SSE course. Her gunnery was good and she continued to straddle the British battlecruiser with rapid salvos. Around 16:58, Queen Mary straddled the Panzerkreuzer and she took a hit in “C” turret. As a point of interest, the Kaiserliche Marine lettered their turrets as follows: “A” turret, “B” turret (starboard wing), “C” turret (superfiring aft), “D” turret (extreme aft), and “E” turret (port wing). Below is a close-up view of “C” and “D” turret. The British 13.5-inch armor-piercing shell apparently penetrated the barbette of “C” turret (superfiring over “D” turret) and exploded in the munitions working chamber, setting off a flash fire among the powder charges. Seydlitz had lost both “C” and “D” turrets in a similar incident at Dogger Bank when the fire passed into the adjoining working chamber and burned out both turrets. Precautions put in place at that time prevented a repeat disaster and “D” turret continued to engage the enemy. Seydlitz by "AP". Fourth in Hipper’s battle line was SMS Moltke, and her Fire Control Officer, Kapitanleutnant Schirmacher, rained down a deadly accurate fire on HMS Tiger in the early part of the engagement. Moltke scored nine hits between 15:48 and 16:00 (twelve minutes). The first shell hit Tiger’s belt armor amidships, pushing it in about three inches. Another shell penetrated the hull and wrecked the C.P.O.’s mess, blowing a hole in the upper deck. The belt was penetrated abreast “A” turret and the shell struck the barbette armor, pushing it in six inches and filling the handling trunk with toxic gases. The port side belt armor was penetrated by yet another shell, destroying the Stoker’s mess and leaving a 10x4-foot hole in the main deck. At 15:54 “Q” turret was struck on the roof, the shell entering the turret and doing considerable damage to the gun controls. Though later repaired, the turret only fired 32 rounds during the entire battle. At 15:58, an 11-inch shell penetrated the hull at the upper deck level, traveled through intervening bulkheads, and blasted a 2x1-foot hole in the “X” turret barbette armor. The turret was only temporarily disabled, but when it came back on line, the director control instruments had also been damaged (probably concussive vibration) and it fired 19 degrees off target. Around 16:58 an 11-inch shell penetrated the armor belt in the machinery spaces just above the protective armored deck. The projectile passed through an ammunition handling passageway starting a fire, and carried on into the turbine spaces – narrowly missing the main steam pipe to the turbines. Had the shell struck that pipe, the battlecruiser would have gone “dead in the water”. The remaining shells caused considerable damage to light structures and non-essential compartments – starting several fires above and below decks. During all this damage to HMS Tiger -- Moltke remained unscathed – despite being under fire from both Tiger and New Zealand. Some time around 16:20, a near miss did fall close off Moltke’s starboard bow, resulting in minor flooding forward. At the end of the battlecruiser line was SMS Von der Tann – the oldest and smallest of them. Nevertheless, she was delivering a fast and accurate fire onto HMS Indefatigable – one of the very ships she had been designed to destroy. Within a minute and a half, she straddled and hit her target with the third salvo. For her part, Indefatigable was firing high and wide. British shells were landing among the light cruisers and torpedo boats on Von der Tann’s disengaged port side, forcing them to take evasive action. The German fire was so accurate, the shell splashes frequently obscured Indefatigable from sight. Captain Sowerby “yawed” the battlecruiser to port and starboard to evade the shells and throw off the German’s aim, but Von der Tann’s gunnery officer, Korvettenkapitan Mahrholz, quickly made corrections and continued to “straddle” his target with rapid salvo fire. This is a close-up of HMS Indefatigable’s deck detail. Note the areas around “A” turret and “X” turret. This will help “visualize” some of the action as it unfolds. (Model by "Barroco Hispano".) When the signal to open fire was finally run up Lion’s halyards, her massive guns roared to life – quickly followed by her squadron mates. But the British battlecruisers fired more out of a sense of urgency than with any degree of certainty. Like the opening German salvos, the shells fell over the target – but WELL over the target. The majority of Hipper’s ships found the range by the third salvo (a minute and a half to two minutes). The British were nowhere near that good. With poor rangefinders, a haze shrouding the eastern horizon, and their own funnel smoke obscuring the German ships, the British might as well have been firing “blind”. Boedicker’s 2nd Scouting Group had fallen back and taken up station about a mile off Hipper’s disengaged port beam. Suddenly, the light cruiser SMS Regensburg and her torpedo boats found themselves passing through mountainous columns of erupting water as British shells splashed down. The disengaged German light forces were in far greater danger than the Panzerkreuzer line. Even worse – Boedicker’s little ships continued to suffer under this punishing bombardment until they could sheer out of range – because the British were unbelievably slow to realize their error. HMS Tiger actually fired on Regensburg for a full ten minutes! Poor shooting by HMS Indefatigable and New Zealand was not an exception to the rule. Both the 1st and 2nd Battlecruiser squadrons fired off a great deal of large caliber ammunition during the “run to the south” – most of which, fell far beyond the target. Beatty’s relaxed attitude toward gunnery practice has already been noted, and more practice would undoubtedly have been to their benefit. But historians have more often excused inferior shooting by citing poor visibility. It is quite true the sun was to the west in the afternoon, and sharply silhouetted the British warships, while a gradually darkening eastern sky benefited the Germans. Throw in a thickening mist, a low-hanging haze along the coast, some patchy fog -- and the low-profile, light gray German warships would blend right in. A Barr & Stroud, 9-foot, coincidence rangefinder with electrical computing and repeating transmission unit. It is a relatively compact unit that can be installed almost anywhere. Rule of thumb: the greater the distance between the periscope apertures at either end – the more accurate the range estimate. The British were further handicapped by their optical rangefinders. The majority of British dreadnoughts at Jutland used a 9-foot, Barr & Stroud, coincidence rangefinder. (Some ships – HMS Orion and the ships of the 5th Battle Squadron – were equipped with an improved 15-foot model.) This device worked well in clear weather, but required visible, sharp edges so the two images could be merged into a single target image. Finding clear, sharp lines on a target during hazy weather proved problematic, to say the least. One British naval officer once remarked...”Naval gunnery was like taking a rifle and shooting at running rabbits from the back seat of a car moving at 30 miles per hour. The wonder is we ever hit anything…” The Kaiserliche Marine used 9-foot Zeiss stereoscopic rangefinders (replaced by 1918 with 12 and 15-foot models) which were high-magnification and well-suited to the hazy conditions in the North Sea. They were even more excellent at shorter ranges, which coincided with the somewhat limited battle ranges of their main battery gun turrets. This aspect allowed German ships to find the range much more quickly, therefore inflicting damage before the British. The German gunnery officers also went into battle knowing their guns, though smaller in caliber, were in many ways superior to British ordnance. German guns were “built-up” and preformed uniformly over long periods of firing. The British guns were wire-wound and cased, and tended to “droop” when they got hot – seriously impairing accuracy. The intense exchange of gunfire between Von der Tann and Indefatigable continued for about fourteen minutes, until approximately 16:02, when the British battlecruiser was struck by three shells around her aft gun turret. Korvettenkapitan Mahrholz observed an explosion and Indefatigable immediately swung out of line to starboard, settling by the stern. (The German armor-piercing shells likely punched through the 1 inch deck plates and exploded deep in the ship – igniting the aft magazine and blowing the bottom out of her.) Within mere seconds, Von der Tann’s next salvo (fired at the extreme range of 17,700 yards) came in and two projectiles struck the British ship up forward. One shell slammed through the forecastle deck while the other penetrated the roof of “A” turret. Mahrholz’ after action report describes what he saw…… “I saw a giant explosion in the aft gun turret, a bright flame flashed up and ship debris was thrown into the air in a wide arc. As what appeared to be the turret roof landed on their aft deck, our next salvo arrived and two hits were obtained forward – one through “A” turret. A gigantic black smoke cloud rose above the ship and she lay over to port, as if to capsize. Less than 30 seconds later, there was a tremendous explosion, with a massive black smoke cloud reaching double the mast height and settling over the water. Pieces of the ship were seen to go in all directions – with a 50-foot steam launch rising two hundred feet before falling into the sea. When the smoke cleared, the enemy was gone.” HMS Indefatigable, mortally stricken, heels over to port the moment before she explodes and goes to the bottom. Her stern has gone under and her bow has lifted out of the water. It is possible this photo was taken from the deck of SMS Von der Tann as she passes to port. As near as analysts can figure, Indefatigable’s aft turret trunk had been hit and “ready” powder charges set on fire. The flames must have reached the aft magazine about the time the shell penetrated “A” turret, causing an explosive flash that reached down into the forward magazine. Apparently both magazines exploded almost simultaneously – shattering the thin-skinned cruiser and sending her to the bottom. (This was only 15 minutes into the battle.) A crew of 57 officers and 960 men went down with her. When the German lookouts aboard Lutzow reported Indefatigable’s loss, Hipper was – to say the least – skeptical. He calmly strode out on the starboard bridge wing and trained his glasses aft – to the massive column of smoke rising into the sky. He counted only five British battlecruisers remaining in line, grunted his approval, and lit a fresh cigar before turning his attention back to Lion. No one present that day had ever witnessed a modern capital ship disappear in a “puff of smoke”. Throughout the exchange, Von der Tann fired 52-11 inch and 38-5.9 inch shells, opening at 17,700 yards and closing to 13,500 yards. We do not know how many shells actually struck Indefatigable, because her ship’s log went down with her. But Von der Tann claimed the first victim of the Battle Of Jutland – while she, herself, remained undamaged. Admiral Hipper had deliberately closed the range, withholding the fire of his lead ships until his last ship, Von der Tann, was within gun range – and the gamble had paid-off handsomely. HMS Barham, 5th Battle Squadron, leading Malaya, Warspite, and Valiant – trailing Beatty’s line by 10 miles. Around 15:30, before the guns had opened, the German and British squadrons settled onto a gradually converging southeasterly course. The opposing Vice-Admirals had clearly demonstrated their intention to give battle – here, and now. And the next eighteen minutes have, for over a century, given naval analysts and historians cause to level severe criticism at Beatty for the confused and inept handling of his three squadrons (only ten capital ships). Ernle Chatfield (Beatty’s flag-captain) was on HMS Lion’s compass platform with his navigator and the chief gunnery officer and his staff. He was studying the German battlecruisers as the range closed and already knew Beatty had lost his first great advantage. The mist and haze to the east (about 12 miles) made ranging on the target difficult – and the British funnel smoke was blowing down-range -- further obscuring the German ships. At the same time, several destroyers of the 9th and 10th Flotillas passed between the opposing squadrons, struggling to reach their station ahead of the Battlecruiser Fleet – and their funnel smoke was making the situation intolerable. Beatty’s capital ships could have opened fire at 23,000 yards (5th Battle Squadron at 30,000 yards) – which, at the lower figure, exceeded Hipper’s maximum gun range of approximately 18,000 yards. That, and Beatty’s slight speed advantage, would have allowed him to stand off and pound the German battlecruisers to rubble. The poor visibility in the east and the roiling clouds of funnel smoke effectively dashed those hopes. Chatfield dutifully passed a message to Beatty that the squadron should open fire at once – but no response was forthcoming. Below Chatfield, on the Admiral’s bridge, were Beatty, his secretary, other staff, and the hapless “flag-lieutenant” Ralph Seymour. As HMS Lion charged along at 24 knots, Beatty was dictating a sighting report to his secretary, to be sent off to Jellicoe (never mind it contained insufficient data). At the same time, he was rattling off a string of flag signals to Seymour in an attempt to get his squadrons into battle formation. Each ship had slightly different speed capabilities, and while the four “cats” were keeping up – New Zealand and Indefatigable were overloading their boilers and gradually losing ground. The line was also staggered (some to port, some to starboard) and seemed to be having difficulty falling into “line ahead” formation. The scouting light cruisers were off somewhere – either skirmishing or chasing the German light cruisers as they disengaged to take station on Hipper. And the British destroyer flotillas, “on their own initiative”, were careening around, hard pressed to follow the big ships. As mentioned before, two flotillas even cut across the engaged front of the British battlecruisers to reach their station at the head of the line. (Jellicoe would have had heart failure!) Worst of all – little thought had been given to maneuvering the powerful fast-battleships of the 5th Battle Squadron. As Beatty’s “Splendid Cats” (battlecruisers) accelerated, Chatfield was keenly aware 5th Battle Squadron (Queen Elizabeth’s) was at least ten miles astern – out of gun range -- and falling farther behind with each passing minute. Beatty’s first turn to the SE to engage the Germans, and his first signaling error, had put them 10 miles astern. When Beatty increased to 24 knots, that put them even farther behind. HMS Tiger had, at the time, been relaying signals from the flagship to the 5th Battle Squadron by signal lamp (they were already too far behind to see flags). As Tiger sped up and closed-up into battle formation – that link was broken. Even if Beatty had given any specific thought to the 5th Battle Squadron – there was no communication channel. Beatty had, in effect, thrown away his second great advantage over the enemy. Small wonder history has judged Beatty harshly. This is a depiction of what Hipper’s battle line would have looked like before opening fire at 15:48. In the left hand column, facing the enemy, you have the battlecruisers Lutzow (flag) followed by Derfflinger, Seydlitz, Moltke, and Von der Tann. The middle column is composed of torpedo boats – on the disengaged port beam of the battlecruisers. On the far right, you have the light cruiser SMS Regensburg, assigned as a flotilla leader. (Again, I have greatly reduced the distance between ships in order to fit them into the picture.) Seydlitz model by "AP" -- all other models by "Barroco Hispano". This is a little more detail. The torpedo boats that later went into the attack were largely from the 6th Flotilla, composed of “V”, “G”, and “S” Class boats. Just for simplicity’s sake, I have used the model of G-101. When the signal to attack was hoisted, some of the torpedo boats would have increased speed, gotten ahead of Lutzow, and cut across her bows to get at the enemy. Others would have simply used their speed and agility to cut through the gaps between the big ships. (No doubt risky – but probably quite a “rush”!) The model of Seydlitz (center) is a work of art by @AP. The remainder of the wonderful models are graciously provided by @Barroco Hispano. In the foreground you see SMS Regensburg, the torpedo boat Flotilla Leader. The Flotilla Leader is, basically, an “overall commander” for one or more flotillas. When an attack is ordered, the light cruiser goes in with its flotillas and provides as much tactical control as possible during a skirmish (very little, really). If The torpedo boats get into trouble, the Leader provides a “rally point” for them to regroup under cover of his 6 inch guns. If the boats needed a little extra muscle to get through to their targets – the cruiser throws its weight into the battle. If the opportunity presents itself, the cruiser will also close to launch torpedoes. All-in-all – a job for younger men with steady nerves. At this point, it is worth remembering – when Admiral Hipper swung to the SE to give battle, he reduced the squadron’s speed, temporarily, to 18 knots so he could; (1) form line of battle; (2) close-up his Panzerkreuzer; (3) assign “fire distribution” (4) get his light forces shifted to the disengaged port beam; (5) clear his own funnel smoke – and then resume his converging course at 22 knots -- a speed ALL his ships could easily maintain. (Those steps fulfilled one of the essential rules of warfare – “concentration of force”. If there was a Naval Tactics textbook in the Kaiserliche Marine, those steps would have been listed.) Only then, with plenty of time remaining, did Hipper concentrate on closing the range. His battlecruisers had been out-ranged at Dogger Bank, and he feared Beatty would again use his superior gun range to stand off. Hipper knew he must close the range until his guns could reach Beatty’s battle line. So while Chatfield was sweating bullets on Lion’s compass platform, Beatty was on the bridge below, his attention diverted as he feverishly tried to get his squadrons sorted out. Why? Because he had failed to do so early on -- when there was available time. The British battlecruisers were still maneuvering into position – but worst of all – none of them could obtain a reasonably accurate range to target. According to long established Royal Navy protocol, the squadron was waiting for Beatty to make the signal to open fire – but Lion’s rangefinders were still getting obscured and mixed readings of up to 25,000 yards from their coincidence rangefinders – well beyond the range of his 13.5-inch weapons. Meanwhile, Hipper succeeded in closing the range and decided the issue by opening fire first. Chatfield, as “flag-captain”, knew he could wait no longer for Beatty -- and gave the order to open fire. Lion’s big 13.5-inch guns thundered, soon followed by the rest of the battle line, but every shot fired went “over” (only Princess Royal came close). The German ships, even at 15,000 yards, were still diffuse gray shapes against the mist and haze, and it took the British much longer to adjust the range. Beatty suddenly realized he was much closer to the German line than he thought, and opened the range by changing to a SSE course. Between 15:48 and 15:53, HMS Lion was hit twice by Lutzow. Hipper, getting the best of the fight, followed onto a southerly course, and a steady, thunderous, gunnery duel developed on a converging course at about 16,000 yards. It proved to be the most destructive gunfight in modern history. Beatty had, at 15:46 (just before Hipper opened fire), finally hoisted a flag signal ordering “distribution of fire”. Lion and Princess Royal were to take on Lutzow (in an attempt to take out the German flagship) – Queen Mary was to target Derfflinger – Tiger was to shoot at Seydlitz – New Zealand at Moltke, and Indefatigable to fire on Von der Tann. But in the confusion and rush to prepare for battle, two of the British ships missed the signal flags. As a consequence, Queen Mary fired at her opposite number – Seydlitz – leaving Derfflinger unhindered for a full ten minutes. HMS Tiger also missed the flag hoist, with the result that both she and New Zealand fired on Moltke – with little success. This is the left 12-inch rifle inside one of Lutzow’s main battery turrets. You see the big 12-inch projectile on the loading tray ready to be pushed into the gun chamber. The rating standing against the front wall of the turret is operating the controls of the new mechanical ramming mechanism designed for the Derfflinger Class battlecruisers. Two ratings to the right are preparing to roll powder charges from the ammunition hoist, down a swinging tray, and into the rammer cradle. Two charges will be rammed into the gun chamber behind the shell. In testing, the projectile and charges of the new 12-inch guns were too heavy to sustain a rate of three rounds per minute manually, so mechanical ramming was used for the first time in a German capital ship. You will note two other ratings wearing slings and bandages. Even if a gun crew was not injured by direct enemy fire, a gun turret was a dangerous place to be, and concussion from outside the turret could be equally harmful. (The painting is by the renown German naval artist Claus Bergen.) As the British gradually acquired the range, and the various ship’s crews concentrated upon their individual tasks, the gunnery grew in noise and intensity. Aboard the Panzerkreuzer, memories of the Dogger Bank action may have flashed through their minds, but they faded quickly. That had been a wild, confused chase with comparatively little result. This was quickly developing into a grim, toe-to-toe slugging match, with neither side showing any interest in withdrawing. Nerves steadied and spotters and range-takers moved with precision and spoke quickly. The director chiefs manned their phone lines and flicked their repeater switches with robot-like calm. Inside the thick steel gunhouses, the turret crews worked amid thin wisps of cordite smoke drifting in the dim light – rolling the big shells from the hoists onto the loading trays -- pushing the rammer levers forward and back as they rammed them into the gun breech – repeating the process for the two powder charges with a mechanical rhythm – again and again. The gun layers attention would be focused on their control boards as they made regular corrections – looking neither left, nor right – no matter the noise or vibration. Commands were shouted over the din of the heavy machinery as the giant rifles were elevated yet again. A few more lateral adjustments – and the firing alarm rang out – “KA-BOOOM”. The over-pressure blast of the big guns wrenched at their ears and pushed against their eyes – even though they covered the one and closed the other tightly. For just a moment, there would be a dizzy feeling – but the sight of the big rifles recoiling, the breech sliding open, and the sound as the empty powder casing clanged to the turret floor would bring them back to their senses. Instantly, the macabre dance would begin again. Hipper’s five battlecruisers quickly registered hits on three of the six British battlecruisers. But it was fully seven minutes before the British obtained their first hit. Up on Lion’s bridge, it quickly became apparent no amount of training or sea duty could ever prepare a human being for battle…… “All around us huge columns of water, higher than the funnels, were thrown up as the enemy shells plunged into the sea. Some of the gigantic splashes curled over and, with the force of a hammer, deluged us with water. Occasionally, above the roar of the big guns, we heard the ominous buzz of a shell splinter and caught a fleeting glimpse of polished steel as it flashed past the bridge.” -- Lieutenant Chalmers The first near-disaster of the day had occurred at 15:58 when Seydlitz was struck on “C” turret and narrowly avoided destruction. As the gunnery duel heated up at the head of the column, Lion obtained a hit on Lutzow at 15:57. But the second near-disaster of the day occurred around 16:02, when one of Lutzow’s 12-inch shells struck Lion’s “Q” turret at 16,500 yards. The projectile penetrated the joint between the face-plate and the roof plate – blowing both plates into the air. The shell entered the gunhouse, detonated over the left gun, killed or wounded everyone in the turret, and started a smoldering fire among the powder charges. A mortally wounded Royal Marines Major, Francis Harvey, the Turret Captain, feared an explosion in the turret trunk – and he lived long enough to order the magazine doors closed and flooded. Seconds later, eight full powder charges in the lower handling chamber ignited and burned violently – flames rising to the masthead. The fire killed all but one of the munitions crew still in the chamber. But Major Harvey’s heroic action saved the battlecruiser from certain destruction, earning him a posthumous Victoria Cross. Around 16:00, Hipper turned away one point to port. In the heat of battle, he had allowed the range to close to about 12,000 yards – and that was simply too close. Though his secondary batteries were in range, and scoring hits on the British, the wily Bavarian had taken note of his enemy’s poor marksmanship. He reasoned that getting too close to the English might improve their gunnery. As the range gradually and imperceptibly opened, the British salvos began to go ”...wild and wide of the mark” – while the German salvos continued to fall on or among the British in those uncannily tight groupings. Four minutes later, the range had opened to just under 17,000 yards and Hipper steadied-up on course. Across the shell-torn stretch of water, still under an intense fire, Beatty turned away three points to starboard and ran up a flag signal informing HMS Princess Royal the flagship’s wireless antennas had been shot away. Apparently the fire control system for the German secondary batteries was wreaking havoc aboard HMS Lion. Thousands of British officers and men were below decks tending to their vital tasks, or were sealed inside the steel gun turrets above deck. Those that could actually see the battle, were shocked and stunned by the loss of Indefatigable. Moments after she went down, Lieutenant Chalmers left his post on Lion’s bridge for a quick look around…… “I stepped out onto the flagship’s bridge wing and looked aft down the line of firing ships. How magnificent they looked with their huge bow waves and the flashing broadsides with mountains of smoke. But astern of them, I saw only an enormous pall of gray smoke. I gazed at this in amazement, and at the same time tumbled to the fact there were now only five battlecruisers in our line...I glanced quickly towards the enemy. How many of them were still afloat? Still five.” The British had been blazing away, with their bigger guns and more numerous ships, and while they were certainly scoring hits, it did not seem to matter. The German battlecruisers steamed on at full speed with their rate of fire and capacity to deal out damage seemingly undiminished. Hipper and his battlecruisers were turning out to be a tougher lot than Beatty had allowed for. With all that had gone on since August 1914, this was really the first time Beatty had managed to come to grips with the Imperial German battlecruisers. At Dogger Bank, Hipper had sensed a trap, and the whole affair turned into a muddled stern chase. The German Admiral had wisely refused to give battle under unfavorable circumstances and all Beatty managed was to sink SMS Blucher – a ship that was hardly a match for his battlecruisers. But on this day, Beatty got his wish. Hipper had willingly offered battle on his own terms and Beatty was getting a proper crack at them. And he was only just beginning to learn how hard it was to sink a German battlecruiser. SMS Lutzow leading Derfflinger on the “Run To The South”. On the left of the picture, you can see the British shells largely falling far “over” their targets. The British battlecruisers can be dimly seen off their starboard bows. A destroyer skirmish appears to be in progress ahead of the advancing battle lines (upper left of picture). Note the huge smoke clouds from Lutzow’s guns and the heavy smoke column issuing from her funnels as she steams at high speed. The whole arena of battle is smothered in a mixture of gun smoke, funnel smoke, and mist, that literally blots out the sky. (Claus Bergen) HMS Lion’s log may show us part of the reason for Admiral Beatty’s revelation. Despite being fired upon by Lion and Princess Royal – Lutzow’s gunnery was outstanding. The German flagship had obtained nine hits on Beatty’s flagship between 15:51 and 16:24. (Roughly one shell every four minutes.) And though they all caused some sort of cumulative damage, the only serious event was the loss of “Q” turret at 16:02. Quite frankly, Beatty, Chatfield, and the other bridge staff only learned of the near-disaster when a lone Sergeant of Marines stumbled onto the bridge – wounded and severely burned – to report the turret out of action and the magazines flooded. (He was the only survivor.) There is little doubt this startling and shocking drama on Lion’s bridge, combined with the frequent jolting hits, had an effect. Beatty had been singularly focused on closing his enemy. Hipper, equally intent, monitored his range while the Panzerkreuzer dropped tight, accurate salvos on the British line and his secondary batteries blazed away at maximum range. Lutzow’s starboard 5.9-inch guns could fire a total of 42 rounds per minute and would cause considerable damage to the lightly armored English cruisers. At 12,000 yards, the sudden loss of Lion’s “Q” turret – followed by a blizzard of medium shells – had alerted Beatty to the fact he’d gotten in too close. At 16:10, Lion suddenly sheered out of line, fired two torpedoes at Derfflinger, and disappeared into the smoke by 16:24. Dodging into the smoke would give Lion a brief respite while her gunners caught their breath and damage control crews fought the out-of-control blaze amidships. This macabre minuet – in and out – back and forth – was played out numerous times as the two aggressive admirals jockeyed for advantage. Though hard-pressed, in all truth, HMS Lion must have been a “cat” with nine lives -- four of Lutzow’s 12-inch shells had failed to detonate. At 16:15, Princess Royal, also firing on Lutzow, landed two 13.5-inch shells on target. One projectile struck Lutzow’s waterline belt abreast the aft conning tower, delivered a violent punch, but failed to penetrate. The other shell penetrated the deck between the “A” and “B” turret barbettes and exploded, wiping out the forward battle dressing station. When Lion sheered off, Lutzow immediately took Princess Royal under fire and straddled her with the first salvo. Derfflinger was already firing on the British ship and, in quick succession, Princess Royal had the right gun of “Q” turret put out of action, her second funnel was shot through, a shell struck her armor belt abreast the fore funnel, and a projectile struck “A” turret. The shell failed to penetrate, but caused the breech of the left gun to jam shut. The shell also bent the retractor lever of the right gun, causing it to misfire frequently. Princess Royal’s “A” turret continued to fire – occasionally -- but could not be relied upon. The gun duel between SMS Seydlitz and HMS Queen Mary had been carrying on at a fast and furious pace, with each ship landing regular, well-timed salvos. Queen Mary was continually “straddled”, with Seydlitz’ shell splashes often obscuring the battlecruiser from view. As the German ship continued to close the range, the sweating and straining men inside the squat steel gunhouses fired-off salvos at 20-second intervals, while her 5.9-inch casemate batteries fired a blizzard of shells at Queen Mary’s upper works – blasting holes in the superstructure and starting numerous small fires. Around 16:20, with the range down to 12,900 yards, Queen Mary miraculously landed two 13.5-inch shells on Seydlitz’ forward gun turret. The first shell struck the turret’s side armor, failed to penetrate, but jammed the turret fast before ricocheting over the side and exploding in mid-air. The second shell struck the turret faceplate squarely, penetrated, and left a neat, round hole the size of the shell. The projectile did a great deal of damage to the turret’s interior machinery, but failed to detonate. Kapitan von Egidy heard the sharp crack of the impact on the turret, but focused his glasses back on Queen Mary and carried on the running gun battle with his three remaining turrets. Just thirty-five minutes into the engagement, Beatty was learning that a “proper crack” at Hipper’s battlecruisers was proving to be a hot and brutal affair. HMS Lion had been repeatedly hit and lost one turret. Princess Royal had been roughly handled with two turrets damaged and numerous fires blazing. Queen Mary had one turret damaged and her upper works “peppered” and set afire. And -- HMS Indefatigable had gone down in a massive explosion. Beatty started the battle with Hipper outnumbered six ships to five. Half an hour later, Hipper had managed to inflict serious damage on the British and evened the odds into the bargain. Hipper, for his part, was pressing the issue and using his well-armored battlecruisers to good advantage. His Krupp armor was keeping his battlecruisers intact and afloat while his 11-inch and 12-inch guns slowly dismantled the thinly armored British warships. What’s more, the “Run To The South” had only just begun. For those of you having trouble keeping all this straight – don’t feel bad. The times of incidents often overlap -- others need more explanation, etc, etc. The “Run To The South” was a brutal slugging-match with a great deal of action to include. And it should be pointed out -- nearly two thirds of all the serious battle action at Jutland occurred at this time. I found a simple, but concise map to help. If you have questions – feel free to ask. BATTLECRUISER ACTION – “RUN TO THE SOUTH” (1) 15:22 - Hipper sights Beatty. (2) 15:48 - First shots fired by Hipper's squadron. (3) 16:00 -16:05 - Indefatigable explodes, leaving two survivors. (4) 16:25 - Queen Mary explodes, eighteen survive. (5) 16:45 - Beatty's battlecruisers move out of range – “Run To The North”. (6) 16:54 - Evan-Thomas's battleships turn north behind Beatty. NEXT TIME…… “...SOMETHING WRONG WITH OUR BLOODY SHIPS...” But before we leave you…… How about a tour of the munitions handling complex. In Cuxhaven, the munitions complex is set up with a connection to the main rail line and to the munitions distribution docks – munitions can be brought to the storage bunkers either by rail or by sea. This is an overview of the distributions quays. Left to right you have the Italian heavy cruiser Zara, the US destroyer Clemson, and the battlecruiser KM Scharnhorst. You will note the rail line behind the quays has been arranged so that all three replenishment points can be accessed at the same time without traffic jams. This very fine model of Scharnhorst is provided courtesy of @Barroco Hispano and shows her as she would have appeared upon commissioning in January 1939: 32,100 tons – 31 knots – 9x11-inch guns – 12x5.9-inch guns – 14x4.1-inch AA guns – 16x1.5-inch AA guns – 6x21-inch torpedo tubes – belt armor 13.8 inches – 1 catapult and 3 Arado, Ar-196A-3 float planes. There has long been a debate as to whether Scharnhorst was a battlecruiser or a battleship – but her design was based on the final plans of the Imperial battlecruiser Ersatz Yorck, which was never completed. The pedigree seems clear enough to me – so I absolutely had to work her into the CJ somewhere! In essence – she was the last battlecruiser ever commissioned by the German Navy. She was armed with an “improved” 11-inch gun – for political reasons. In the mid-1930’s, it was feared 15-inch guns might cause the British to “get the wind up”. In this close-up of the dock activity, you can see the working parties unloading main gun ammunition from the shuttle locomotives to the quay for delivery to the warship. There are masses of people bustling about – unloading shells, checking them for imperfections, cleaning the rounds, and hauling them about with hand-trucks or loading them into cargo racks to be hoisted aboard the battlecruiser. In real life, docks are seldom quiet places, and we have tried hard to recreate the hundreds of crew and working parties involved in servicing a capital ship. This is a rear view of the quayside. The docks were modified from the “PEG SNM Series” (battleship docks) with “WMP Seawalls” added as timber bumpers on the outer edges. The large dockside cranes were borrowed from the “PEG Trash Removal” lots and resized to better fit the surrounding models. The 100 ton cranes trackside are by “AP”. The ammunition shuttle locomotives and “rolling stock” were modeled by “AP” from old pictures of equipment on German WW I period military railroads. The Great War would not have been possible without railroads. Artillery battery commanders, in particular, were shocked to find they could fire off a year’s worth of peacetime artillery shells in just a matter of hours. The British thought they had enough reserve artillery ammunition to last through a “short war” – perhaps a year. More than half of it was expended in the first two weeks of actual combat. Various props have been used to “dress-out” the scene, but the many “specialized” props were created by “AP” – sailors, shells, etc, etc. At the end of the quay, there are two Esmeralda Class paddle tugs moored to “barrel buoys”, while an Odin Class (diagonal) tug is visible at the top preparing to take two loaded lighters under tow. Barrel buoys, mooring dolphins, paddle tugs, and the Odin are the meticulous work of “AP”. Here you see a Clemson Class destroyer preparing to take aboard a full load of torpedoes. The Clemson’s were a large class of destroyers built by the US Navy over a number of years. The early versions of the extended class served during WW I, while others were completed between the wars. Under the “Lend Lease” agreement, 50 of them did yeoman service with the Royal Navy in WW II. Characteristics: 1,215 tons – 35.5 knots – 4x4-inch guns – 1x3-inch AA gun -- 12x21-inch torpedo tubes – no armor. USS Clemson is by “Barroco Hispano”. The 100 ton cranes quayside and the 20 ton cranes trackside are by “AP”, as are the shuttle locomotives, rail cars, and torpedoes. This is the Italian heavy cruiser Zara: Commissioned 1931 – 11,326 tons – 32 knots_8x8-inch guns – 16x3.9-inch guns – 34 AA guns – 2 seaplanes – belt armor 5.9 inches. As with all Italian warships built or modernized between the wars, they were quite handsome, with sleek lines and high speed. She is preparing to top-off her magazines with 8-inch shells and powder charges. In this shot, you can see the powder charges in brass cases stacked in rows on the quayside. Next to them are the 8-inch shells – ready to be hoisted aboard and stowed in the magazines. Again, the shuttle engines and ammunition cars are by “AP”, along with the shell and powder stacks – and, of course – the sailors and 20 ton cranes. This rear view of the quay gives a good view of the ammunition handling parties and the ammunition trains. We’ll continue this tour in Chapter 31. 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-176649600000

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