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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ships of the Hochseeflotte moored quayside in Wilhelmshaven harbor – circa 1916. The dreadnought in the foreground is a Konig Class battleship, III Battle Squadron. IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: CUXHAVEN By: Dreadnought & AP Chapter 27: THOSE WHO LEAD As with all military plans, they look very good on paper, but they rarely survive the point at which they are put into execution. And so it would be with Jellicoe’s elaborate operation -- but it was hardly his fault. He had the benefit of commanding the largest battle fleet the world had ever seen. And Room 40 was decoding German wireless traffic almost as soon as they got it -- and -- he outnumbered his opponent by a considerable margin. As his battle fleet steamed southeast by east, Jellicoe was not at all certain he was going to encounter the enemy. The boys in Room 40 had as much as told him so. Around half-past noon (12:30) on 31 May, Rear-Admiral Jackson, the Admiralty D.O.D., had checked in with Room 40 to see where the German flagship was located. Room 40 had long ago established Sheer’s flagship (SMS Friedrich der Grosse) was assigned the wireless call-sign “DK”. By intercepting enemy messages, and taking the directional bearings at the same time, they knew exactly where the German flagship was located. When Jackson asked, Room 40 gave him the short answer – Wilhelmshaven. And if the flagship was still in port, that meant the Hochseeflotte was still at anchor. Without confirming the particulars with the Room 40 staff, or even consulting other Admiralty staff, he transmitted a message to Jellicoe…“DK still placed in Jade at 11:10 – Apparently they have been unable to carry out air reconnaissance which has delayed them.” The message was received by both the Grand Fleet and Beatty’s Battlecruiser Fleet. Suddenly, a trap certain to ensnare their enemy, had been transformed into just another training mission. With the wind blowing strong from the northwest, Jellicoe reasoned there was little likelihood the German airships could be used, and even less chance the Germans would put to sea without them. Now his thoughts turned to deciding if he could remain at sea and try again, tomorrow. Unfortunately for Jellicoe, the Hochseeflotte staff officers had grown suspicious when the Grand Fleet seemed to miraculously turn up everywhere they planned an operation. It was simply too often for it to be coincidence. Though suspicious, the German naval command never changed the codes. But two bright lads on Scheer’s staff came up with a plan and managed to convince Scheer to try it. Just before taking the battle squadrons to sea, Scheer’s flagship exchanged call signs with the radio station at the entrance of the III lock into Wilhelmshaven. The flagship now had a new call-sign Room 40 did not know, while the lock wireless station continued to transmit normal traffic as “DK” – giving the impression Friedrich der Grosse was still at anchor in the Jade. The end result was two great fleets steaming into the North Sea – and neither would know the other was out. The ironic twist – and there is always an ironic twist – is that the Germans transmitted a signal to all ships and stations announcing the exchange of call-signs, just to make sure everyone was on the same sheet of music. However, the Germans transmitted in an entirely different and little used cypher code. Room 40 was unable to decode the message right away, so with an operation in progress, they simply put it to one side and carried on – leaving Jellicoe unaware the German battle fleet had followed Hipper to sea. With a battle as controversial as Jutland, there always seems to be a second version of events, and this is no exception. In the alternative version, it is normal operating procedure for the German flagship to change call signs when it goes to sea – there was no attempt at deception. The problem occurred within the Admiralty. Rear-Admiral Jackson mistakenly asked the whereabouts of “DK” – the call sign – NOT the actual flagship. Had Jackson asked for the location of the German flagship, presumably, he would have been told it was at sea, and given the position based on the radio direction bearings. There is, of course, a problem with the second story. Once at sea, the Germans were unlikely to generate enough wireless traffic to provide Room 40 with a position fix. AND – my guess is that if Room 40 had any idea the German flagship was at sea – they would have notified the Admiralty staff and The Fleet immediately. But – I will leave you to decide which version of events sounds more logical. With four groups of capital ships steaming on converging courses, and the sun about to rise in the North Sea – let us take a moment to learn about the men who command them. THE PRINCIPLE COMMANDERS John Jellicoe in the uniform of “Admiral Of The Fleet” – circa 1917. Admiral Of The Fleet Sir John Rushworth Jellicoe, 1st Earl Jellicoe, Viscount Jellicoe of Scapa Flow: 1859 – 1935. Born the son of a merchant sea captain, John Jellicoe joined the Royal Navy in 1872 at the age of thirteen. He gradually rose through the ranks in the slow but steady career progression common to the Royal Navy in the Victorian Era. Attaining the rank of commander, he was serving in the Mediterranean aboard the battleship HMS Victoria in 1893 when it collided with HMS Camperdown and sank off Tripoli. The accident was the result of incompetent ship handling by Vice-Admiral Sir George Tryon. (Tryon at least had the good sense to go down with his ship.) In 1900, during the Boxer Rebellion, Captain Jellicoe commanded the battleship HMS Centurion, and was chief of staff to Admiral Sir Edward Seymour at the time of his relief expedition to Peking. Having been badly wounded ashore, at the Battle of Peitsang, Jellicoe refused to die and was appointed a Companion Of The Order Of The Bath, and also awarded the Imperial German Order Of The Red Eagle, 2nd class, with Crossed Swords. In 1905, Jellicoe was taken on as a protege of Admiral Jackie Fisher, and his career began to alternate between sea commands and assignments in the Admiralty. He was made Aide-de-Camp to the King-Emperor, Edward VII, in 1906, and promoted rear-admiral in 1907. He pushed hard for funds to modernize the navy, supported dreadnought construction, and campaigned tirelessly for improvements in gunnery fire control. In the first decade of the 20th Century, the Royal Navy had become obsessed with “spit and polish” and paid little attention to gunnery. British fleets spent much of their time steaming from port to port, reminding the world that Britannia ruled the waves, and touching-up their gleaming white paintwork. Gunnery practice was only mandated four times per year, and even then, there were no instructions, guidelines, or required performance standards. In fact, the only requirement was that a ship should expend 25% of its ammunition load at each practice. With such a slack attitude toward gunnery, it is not surprising that on more than one occasion, ship’s officers were known to have ordered the ammunition jettisoned over the side – rather than risk powder stains on the paint scheme. Jellicoe was appointed second-in-command of the Atlantic Fleet in 1907, Third Sea Lord in 1908, then moved to Commander-In-Chief Atlantic Fleet in 1910. Promoted vice-admiral in 1911, he became second-in-command of the Home Fleet, then commander of the 2nd Battle Squadron in 1912. In December 1912, he was appointed Second Sea Lord. With the outbreak of war in 1914, Winston Churchill removed Admiral George Callaghan as Commander-In-Chief Home Fleet, and promoted Jellicoe to full admiral to take command of the renamed “Grand Fleet”. There was some grumbling among the “senior” ranks in The Fleet over the precipitate manner in which Churchill promoted Jellicoe over the heads of officers with more seniority. But, despite the grumbling, the question remained – who better to command the Grand Fleet than Jellicoe? In 1902, as a young officer, he had shown an aptitude for gunnery and was sent to the new gunnery school aboard HMS Bulwark. By 1904 his quick grasp of technical issues found him selected to serve as a member of Fisher’s exploratory design committee for HMS Dreadnought. He then served as Third Sea Lord of the Admiralty under Fisher, making him responsible for developments in ship design, armor research and application – and -- development and advancement of warship guns and munitions. This post also gave him access to the latest information on the development of submarines, torpedoes, and mines, both at home and abroad. There was no other line officer in the Royal Navy possessed of such a comprehensive technical knowledge of the modern dreadnought. Simply put – he knew the strengths and weaknesses of each of his battleships and had the tactical knowledge to use them. Jellicoe, the man, had a spotless service record, was known as immensely capable, and was considerably more than “well-connected”, with friends in the very highest places. Despite all this, he was a modest man and sincerely placed the unity of his flag-officers and the well-being of the Fleet above his own ambitions. His very appearance bespoke modesty. He was just 5 feet 6 inches, with a spare frame, a tight-lipped mouth, and a somewhat prominent nose. He had kind eyes – a welcome feature to junior officers – but they were deceptive. He was quick and clever, saw everything, missed nothing, and instantly understood everything he had seen. His physical courage, though not often on display, was beyond doubt. As an “enlightened” admiral, he cared for each and every man under his command. Jellicoe was universally recognized as a superb seaman and an expert ship handler. Large fleets were notoriously difficult to handle in the early decades of the 20th Century, and his quick brain, cognitive powers, and instant commands were faultless – even in the midst of roaring battle. (It should be noted the Battle Fleet was far larger, and its battle line far longer, than any other at Jutland. And yet, there were no mistaken flag signals among the battleships.) Though he acted swiftly, he made careful and calculated decisions. Some have criticized him as over-cautious – he was not. But he was careful. Jellicoe understood the responsibility resting on his shoulders. Winston Churchill later said he was “...the only man on either side who could lose the war in an afternoon”. Though typical of Winston’s fondness for hyperbole, it is substantially true. If Jellicoe had rashly and recklessly sacrificed the Grand Fleet, the Hochseeflotte might have gained the upper hand, and the outcome of the war could have been different. Without giving undue weight to outrageous “what if” scenarios, there is little doubt a significant loss of capital ships would have considerably effected Britain’s political stance. Tactically, the British might even have lost the ability to effectively blockade the German ports. HMS Iron Duke, flagship of the Grand Fleet at the Battle of Jutland. Iron Duke Class: HMS Iron Duke, HMS Marlborough, HMS Benbow, HMS Emperor Of India – all commissioned 1914. Displacement: 25,820 tons – 21 knots – 10x13.5-inch guns – 12x6-inch guns – 4x21-inch torpedo tubes – belt armor 12 inches. Model courtesy of @Barroco Hispano. Vizeadmiral Carl Friedrich Heinrich Reinhard Scheer – 1863 – 1928. Reinhard Scheer was born to a middle-class family in Obernkirchen, Lower Saxony. He entered the Imperial navy in 1879, at age fifteen, as a naval cadet. His early grades in training exams were not spectacular, but he managed to achieve the second highest rating in his class for the 1880 “Sea Cadets” exam. He was sent for special training in gunnery, torpedo warfare, and naval infantry tactics. (In those days, many young officers would serve in the African colonies or on the China Station.) Scheer served in various posts aboard foreign station cruisers – some wooden-hulled and steam-driven. He participated in, and even led, some of the landing parties sent to keep order in the far-flung parts of the empire. By 1905, Scheer had attained the rank of Kapitan zur See and took command of the pre-dreadnought battleship SMS Elsass in 1907. In 1909 he became chief of staff to Flottenchef Admiral von Holtzendorff and, at age 47, reached flag rank less than 6 months later. By 1911, he had been transferred to the Reichsmarineamt, where he held the post of Chief of the General Naval Department. Scheer returned to sea duty in January 1913, with command of the II Battle Squadron, and was promoted to Vizeadmiral in December of that year. War broke out in 1914, and in January of the following year, he was given command of the modern and powerful dreadnoughts of the III Battle Squadron. In January 1916, Admiral von Pohl became too ill to carry on as Flottenchef, and Scheer was given the command. One of his first acts was to write “Guiding Principles For Sea Warfare In The North Sea” – not exactly a “catchy” title. But he outlined the idea that the Grand Fleet should be pressured by increased submarine warfare, Zeppelin raids, and more frequent sorties by the Hochseeflotte. This would force the Grand Fleet to abandon its distant blockade and actually pursue the German fleet. The Kaiser signed-off on the memorandum on 23 February 1916 – and with that approval – Scheer would be able to use the fleet more aggressively. Aged 52 when he took command, Scheer was known as an excellent seaman and could handle dreadnought formations as well as any man alive. He was widely regarded by his fellow officers as one of the ablest and quickest-thinking flag-officers in the Kaiserliche Marine. His vigorous and aggressive spirit was much admired and well known – even in the British Admiralty. In many ways Scheer was a very different man than Jellicoe. All they really seemed to have in common was a rapid and analytical thought process. He was energetic, active, and impatient. He wanted action – and he wanted it now. Scheer was a man that expected his staff to have detailed plans and orders for an operation – but they were often pushed aside as soon as he appeared on the bridge. He tended to command by instinct and made quick decisions. He preferred to have all options presented to him, and might then chose another option no one had considered. Scheer’s chief of staff, Admiral Adolf von Trotha, summed it up neatly...”In action he was cool and clear-headed. The pressure of Jutland showed his ability to think calmly in the midst of chaos – a great gift. And a man like that must be allowed to drive his subordinates mad.” Apparently, Admiral von Trotha had a sense of humor. SMS Friedrich der Grosse, flagship of the Hochseeflotte at Jutland. Kaiser Class: SMS Friedrich der Grosse - 1912, SMS Kaiserin - 1913, SMS Konig Albert - 1913, SMS Prinzregent Luitpold - 1912, SMS Kaiser – 1912 Displacement: 24,380 tons – 21 knots – 10x12-inch guns – 14x5.9-inch guns – 12x3.4-inch guns – 5x19.7-inch torpedo tubes – belt armor 13.75 inches. Model by “Barroco Hispano”. Admiral Of The Fleet Sir David Richard Beatty, 1st Earl Beatty, Viscount Borodale, and Baron Beatty of the North Sea and Brooksby – 1871 – 1936. Seen here in his uniform as a Vice-Admiral – circa 1915. The picture tells you very nearly everything you need to know about the man. The tailored uniform coat, the hands in the pockets, the affected stern, tight-lipped, steely glare, the casual air of a “rake” or a “maverick”, and the cap tilted at a jaunty angle over the left eye. Say what you will – the picture is the man. This “biographical sketch” will be a bit longer than the first two “players” – for two good reasons; (1) Beatty and his battlecruisers fought a goodly portion of the Battle of Jutland, and (2) There is simply so much more to say about an uncommonly “colorful” man. Born in Cheshire, Beatty’s father had served with the 4th Hussars, and three brothers served in the army – but Beatty chose to join the Royal Navy at age thirteen. He left Dartmouth Naval College in 1886 – but not with distinction. He was, however, possessed of a wealth of physical courage, a love of adventure, and a natural talent for “the dramatic”. All traits that were on display when indulging in his passion for fox hunting. (A bit of a “prima donna” before the phrase had become popular.) By 1896 he had been appointed second-in-command of the Nile Flotilla accompanying General Herbert Kitchener’s expedition into the Sudan. He proved very cool in a crisis – on more than one occasion -- and even personally jettisoned an unexploded shell from his gunboat while under fire. He demonstrated his ability to improvise under pressure and went out of his way to bedevil the hostile tribesmen. He earned both the D.S.O. and Kitchener’s admiration. (Something Winston Churchill – attached to Kitchener’s staff – was unable to do.) Four years later, and promoted to commander, Beatty again distinguished himself in action during the Boxer Rebellion. Leading a naval contingent from the fleet, Beatty saw combat at Tianjin and was wounded in the left arm and wrist. His heroism won him promotion to captain at age 29 and made him a celebrated hero back home. Returning to England, Beatty began a long, and sometimes difficult, marriage to divorcee Ethel Tree, heiress to the Marshall-Fields (Chicago) department store fortune. The marriage liberated Beatty financially, and put him on the “A-list” of guests at Edwardian house parties, allowing him to travel in the best social circles. Her money also bought him a steam yacht, an estate in the Leicestershire fox-hunting country, and a Scottish grouse moor. But it was akin to a Greek Tragedy. She was also a notorious “flirt”, and Beatty suffered “the tortures of the damned”. Serving afloat in a variety of warships, including command of a battleship, he also rotated through a wide range of shore duties – including an appointment as Aide-de-Camp to King George V in 1908. Despite having served on several ships, his experience in command of big ships was limited, with NO experience at squadron level under his belt. Nevertheless -- Beatty was promoted rear-admiral in 1910 – the youngest officer to attain that rank in a century. Winston Churchill was appointed First Lord of the Admiralty in 1911, and regardless of warnings about Beatty’s youth and impertinence, he made the young man his naval secretary. Churchill thought he recognized a bright and rising star in a sky that was momentarily dull due to lack of war-like employment. In 1913, command of the Battlecruiser Squadron came open – and to no one’s surprise – Churchill appointed Beatty. There were surprising similarities between the careers of Lord Nelson and David Beatty – if you chose to see them. And Churchill’s sense of the melodramatic may have unduly influenced him. Otherwise, why appoint a man with little ship handling experience and only a shaky grasp of modern naval technology and tactics? (No matter that Beatty was promoted over the heads of several senior officers.) HMS Dreadnought had changed the face of naval warfare in 1905. By 1916, Beatty would fly his flag in HMS Lion – a 26,000 ton monster with 13.5-inch guns and capable of a remarkable 26.5 knots. Naval engagements – which Beatty had never witnessed – would now unfold much more quickly, travel at greater speed, engage at longer ranges, and fire considerably bigger shells with enormous destructive power. The battle line, itself, was no longer a compact fighting unit – with 100 yards between ships. The new dreadnoughts were 200 yards long and required an interval between ships of 400 yards to avoid collisions and provide dispersal under fire. Ship handling in the modern Royal Navy was no job for unpracticed amateurs – especially in the confusion and chaos of battle. At the same time, signaling between ships had become a critical tool of command and control. If a ship’s wireless antennas were shot away, the only alternative was a signal lamp or flag hoists. And the very act of signaling was often carried out under near impossible conditions. When Beatty assumed command of the squadron he chose Lieutenant Ralph Seymour as his “flag lieutenant” (Admiral’s signals officer). Seymour did have aristocratic connections – and – his sister was a great friend of Churchill’s wife. “Influence” appointments were common in those days, but Beatty chose to overlook the fact that Seymour had NO experience whatever as a signals officer. This later caused a great deal of trouble. When people spoke of Beatty – “brash”, “rash”, “reckless”, “hotheaded”, and “impetuous” – were the adjectives most often used. And more often than not, they were used by the older and cooler heads in the Admiralty. In 1914 and 1915, this sort of behavior was on full display. Beatty led the Battlecruiser Squadron in the major clashes of Heligoland Bight and Dogger Bank (among others) – and neither he, nor his captains, seemed to learn any lessons from them. Beatty had simply charged into battle with guns blazing and gave little thought to tactics and the proper employment of his technologically advanced warships. The British demonstrated clear difficulties in reporting information up the chain of command, as well as serious foul-ups in signaling, in general. British ammunition handling procedures were seriously deficient, and Beatty placed no emphasis on gunnery practice – so they rarely hit the target. And while Beatty basked in the warmth of public adoration – the mistakes and failures were ignored, and the lessons went unlearned. After Dogger Bank, Beatty was lauded as the hero of the hour for having routed the German battlecruisers. But the reality is -- he had simply been lucky. Beatty had not prepared his squadron for modern battle. In the “old traditions” of the Royal Navy, he had not briefed his captains or prepared them with “basic fighting instructions” (as Jellicoe had done) – he merely chose to “have at the enemy” in something like an old-fashioned cavalry charge. (Follow me, Lads !) He had not been able to control his ships very well – signals were often confusing, misdirected to a given ship, or simply poorly worded by an inexperienced “flag-lieutenant”. In many cases, he failed to even make signals -- leaving his captains to guess at his intentions. The lack of gunnery practice resulted in an estimated 1% hit ratio (one out of every hundred shells fired managed to find a target). And – he very nearly lost his flagship to superior German gunnery. Beatty could lead men into battle, but he could not prepare them for it, nor could he direct them once battle was joined. In March 1915, after Dogger Bank, Jellicoe wrote Beatty a lengthy, but discreet letter. He chose not to give the younger man a verbal thrashing – after all, Beatty had managed to sink SMS Blucher. Instead, Jellicoe opted for a diplomatically phrased word of advice and caution. Like many at the Admiralty, Jellicoe worried Beatty’s impetuous nature and total lack of caution might lead the Battlecruiser Squadron headlong into a German ambush – and a resulting disaster. He expressed the fear that Hipper’s battlecruisers might lead Beatty on a merry chase, ending when the Hochseeflotte opened fire. If there was ever an answer to Jellicoe’s letter – it has not survived the century that has passed since Jutland. And if Beatty read the letter, he certainly learned nothing from it – Hipper would prove that. There was little doubt Britain longed for a Nelsonian hero at this hour, but there was no Nelson. The legendary Admiral had understood the capabilities of his ships, knew his gunnery to be superior to that of his enemy, and had planned his battles. More importantly -- he had prepared his captains to play their part. Beatty did not comprehend the strengths and weaknesses of his dreadnoughts, and his lack of forethought ensured they would come off a poor second to the Hochseeflotte’s gunnery. David Beatty looked and acted the dashing hero every man wanted to be, but he had no grasp of the responsibility of command, nor the necessity for control. He could lead, but he could not direct. HMS Lion, flagship of the Battlecruiser Fleet – attached to the Grand Fleet at Jutland. Lion Class: HMS Lion (1912) – HMS Princess Royal (1912) – HMS Queen Mary (1915) Displacement: 26,270 tons – 27 knots – 8x13.5-inch guns – 16x4-inch guns – 15x4-inch guns – 2x21-inch torpedo tubes – belt armor 9 inches. Model by “Barroco Hispano”. Vizeadmiral Franz Ritter von Hipper – 1863 – 1932: seen here in his Vizeadmiral’s uniform – circa 1916. Franz von Hipper was born in Weilheim, Oberbayern (Upper Bavaria), some 40 miles south of Munich, and his shop-keeper father died when he was just three years old. Coming from humble origins, he concentrated on an education so he could make his mark in life. At age 16, he decided to join the fledgling Imperial Navy and two years later graduated officer training. (Ludwig II – “The Mad King” – was on the throne of Bavaria.) One of his fellow classmates (class of 1881) was Wilhelm Souchon, who would go on to successful command of SMS Goeben in 1914. As a “sea cadet”, Hipper served on the old sailing frigate SMS Niobe for six months, then attended Naval Cadet School in Kiel, followed by Gunnery School on SMS Mars. Hipper returned to sea duty aboard the training ship SMS Friedrich Carl before transferring to the steam corvette SMS Leipzig for a two-year world cruise. Returning in October 1884, the young man was assigned as a divisional drill officer training recruits for the First Naval Battalion. Even in its early years, the Kaiserliche Marine was known to rotate officers in and out of various commands so they would have an excellent, all-around knowledge of the service and how it operated. By 1898, Hipper was serving as navigator aboard the pre-dreadnought battleship SMS Kurfurst Friedrich Wilhelm, then transferred to the Imperial Yacht Hohenzollern in September 1899. While serving aboard, he was present for the trip to England for Queen Victoria’s funeral in 1901, and the cruise to America the following year. During his assignment, he was awarded the Prussian Order Of The Red Eagle, the Bavarian Military Service Order, and the Order Of St. Stanislaus (awarded by Tsar Nicholas II). Hipper was promoted to Korvettenkapitan in June 1901. In October 1902, he was assigned to command the Second Torpedo Unit until 1905, and was promoted to Fregattenkapitan. He then attended advanced gunnery courses for cruisers and battleships. Hipper was appointed to command several cruisers in succession, and in 1907, was promoted Kapitan zur See. The same year he was in attendance during a three-day meeting between the Kaiser and the Tsar, and was awarded the Order Of St. Andrew by the Tsar. In 1908, Hipper took command of the First Torpedo Boat Division for a period of three years, during which he trained more than half of the torpedo boats in the Kaiserliche Marine. October 1911 saw Hipper take command of the armored cruiser SMS Yorck and also assume the position of chief of staff to Konteradmiral Gustav Bachmann, Deputy Flag Officer, Reconnaissance Forces. In January 1912, Hipper became Deputy Commander, Reconnaissance Forces and was promoted to Konteradmiral. In October 1913, Hipper was appointed to command the 1st Scouting Group of the Hochseeflotte – a position he would fulfill with distinction. At age 50, Konteradmiral Franz Hipper rose to the command of a unit that would become legendary in the annals of naval history – and would make him famous as well. He worked the 1st Scouting Group hard – even in peacetime – training them in ship handling, squadron maneuvers, and especially gunnery. Hipper was practical and produced results. He knew guns were useless if you couldn’t hit the target, and his crews worked hard to earn the Kaiser’s prized shooting trophy. His men came to have complete confidence in him and his abilities. Not all naval officers responded to fast ships and tended to handle them like the lumbering battleships of the battle line. But Hipper was different, and quite unusual for a senior German officer. There was something of the “buccaneer” in him, and he reveled in the big cruisers speed and big guns. He understood them – understood how they were meant to work -- and knew how to use them. He was completely confident he had the skill to take them anywhere they were needed, and do whatever was required of them. Hipper never took a Staff College course and disliked theoretical speculation. Instead, he took in large amounts of information in a short time and retained it all – making decisions without hesitation. His operations were planned carefully, taking into account a wide range of factors – especially intelligence gathered by U-boats and Zeppelins. Hipper thought fast on his feet and proved to be a cool customer under fire. He was a gifted tactician with quick perception and a keen “seaman’s eye”. He got the most out of his ships, and kept tight control of his squadron when in combat. Hipper’s flagship always led the column and he took risks – but they were calculated risks. He handled the big battlecruisers like squadrons of heavy cavalry, and the man hand nerves of steel. Hipper was known to be energetic and hard working – but loathed paperwork and was quite content to leave that to his staff. He was well-liked by his subordinates and treated his staff with courtesy and great kindness. He was all business when at sea, but often sent his aides to sleep or eat when he had done neither. His personal modesty and cordial friendliness made him much loved by his men. He trained his crews hard and often, and respected officers that ran taught ships, but aboard SMS Seydlitz, when the crew saluted him – they were happy to do so. SMS Lutzow, flagship of the 1st Scouting Group – attached to the Hochseeflotte at Jutland. Derfflinger Class: SMS Derfflinger (1914) – SMS Lutzow (1915) – SMS Hindenburg (1917) Displacement: 26,180 tons – 27 knots – 8x12-inch guns – 14x5.9-inch guns – 4x19.7-inch torpedo tubes – belt armor 12 inches. Model courtesy of "Barroco Hispano". NEXT TIME…… AN INNOCUOUS LITTLE STEAMER Again, my apologies…… I have been unable to create very many in-game pictures to cover the text of this chapter, so we will continue our tour of Cuxhaven…… This is another view of the West Loch of the Cuxhaven Dockyards. A first glance shows six ships moored to buoys in the center of the roadsted. As mentioned in Chapter 28, this small squadron of two armored cruisers and two light cruisers will be accompanied by two colliers on the long voyage to Imperial Germany’s China Station, in Tsingtau. They will significantly increase Germany’s power and influence in the region. Starting at the “tail” of the line you see the modern armored cruiser SMS Gneisenau, preparing to take aboard stores and provisions. Moored ahead of her is SMS Scharnhorst (flagship). (For details on these pictures, see Chapter 7.) The big armored cruisers are by “AP”. https://i.imgur.com/spzTJtJ.jpg[/img Moored ahead of the armored cruisers are two light cruisers of the Jurien de la Graviere Class. These are French cruisers, but I selected them because...(1) they were active prior to, and during WW I...(2) I wanted to provide a bit of variety to the cruiser mix – the number of German cruiser models available was somewhat limited...and (3) they are quite interesting in their appearance. To their port side, you see two moored colliers that will accompany the squadron. https://i.imgur.com/DYGnYGs.jpg[/i This is a very handsome, and highly detailed model, provided by @Barroco Hispano, and is indicative of French naval architecture of the period. The French navy was distinctive for the numerous funnels aboard their ships – and unique in the way they tended to separate them into groups. Displacement was 6,175 tons – 22.8 knots – 8x6.5-inch guns -- 10x1.9-inch Hotchkiss guns -- 6x1.5-inch guns -- 2x18-inch torpedo tubes. The only armor amounted to a 1.77-inch deck, a 3.9-inch conning tower, and 2.8-inch gun shields. Technically, she was a “protected cruiser”. The main armament is arranged in two single, shielded gun mounts fore and aft, with six more guns mounted amidships in sponsoned hull casemates (shown here with the armored shutters open). An Odin Class tug is seen nudging a lighter of provisions alongside – courtesy of “AP”. In this view of Jurien de la Graviere you can see the extremely fine lines of her hull. She had a length to width ration of nearly 9 to 1 – giving her a clean and extremely hydrodynamic hull form. Unfortunately, her hull was constructed of light frames and scantlings, which caused violent vibrations at her cruising speed of 10 knots. These vibrations frequently broke voice tubes and boiler piping. This very handsome collier is the SS Erlangen, and @AP has done wonders with the old girl. From the weathered hull, to the rusty brown forecastle deck plating, and the soot-smudged funnels – she is every bit a worn and over-worked collier from the early years of the 20th Century. Note the details on the ship’s boats, the weathered texture of the fantail awning, and the detailed rendering of the cargo booms. Colliers were an essential element to the operation of warships of this era, and we could not possibly have left them out. Erlangen represents a Norddeutscher Line collier that would have been leased by the Imperial Navy to provide coal for the warships on their way to China. Germany relied heavily on leased colliers, mostly from neutral nations, since they only had small naval commitments abroad. In peacetime, the Hochseeflotte rarely ventured into the Atlantic – and never beyond Norwegian or Spanish waters. In wartime – the battle fleet confined its operations to the North Sea. This is another view showing the unusually fine lines designed into this collier. SS Erlangen was based on the US Navy’s Prometheus Class colliers, and they were chosen for their modern features, as well as their unusually clean and handsome lines not found in other colliers. She displaced approximately 9,000 tons, was 466 feet in length, was capable of 16 knots, and could carry an estimated 7,000 tons of coal. Once the squadron arrives at Tsingtau, Erlangen will obtain another cargo – possibly in Yokohama or Nagasaki – and work her way back to Germany. The unusual ship in the center is the USS Proteus, name ship of a class of four colliers built for the US Navy in the early 1900’s. Commissioned in 1913, she displaced 19,000 tons, had a speed of 15 knots, and could carry 8,000 tons of coal. She was purpose-built as a collier by the Newport News Shipbuilding & Dry Dock Company. I chose this ship to represent colliers built specifically to operate as naval auxiliaries. The US Navy chose not to rely exclusively on leased colliers, largely due to the vast stretches of the Pacific Ocean, and their reluctance to be at the political mercy of neutral nations. Naval engineers drew her plans specifically to be able to handle two warships at the same time – and as quickly as possible. I also chose Proteus because her design is unique among all the colliers. This is another view of Proteus, this one showing her extremely long and narrow hull. It can easily be seen the midship’s portion of the hull is entirely occupied by coal storage holds, and cargo derricks designed to disburse the cargo in a speedy and efficient manner. The aft portion of the ship contains the engines, boilers, ship’s galley, Mess and Ward rooms, and the officer’s quarters. This view of Proteus’ bow shows the “conning bridge” of the ship. It is a very spartan arrangement, just big enough to hold the watch officer, a helmsman, perhaps the captain, and a couple of ratings. The bridge has been raised above the deck to allow heavy seas to pass beneath. The skylights in the forecastle deck are designed to allow light into the crew quarters below. These may look like small quarters, but it must be remembered, Proteus is not a warship and was crewed by only 158 officers and men. This view also allows close examination of the working booms and derricks installed between the cargo hatches. “AP” scratch-built this unique model and went to great lengths to make sure the complicated derrick system, and all its lines and rigging, have been duplicated properly. Here you have a detail shot of the aft superstructure -- such as it is. Please note the overhead crane gantry rigged over the two aft coal hatches (white), and four “reddish” hatch covers on the aft superstructure. This system is designed to bring coal from the two holds forward and deposit it in the four aft hatch openings to feed the boiler room coal bunkers. The two funnels placed side-by-side is an arrangement not commonly found on modern ships. You will also note a raised aft steering bridge extends the width of the ship at the fantail. All in all – great effort had gone into the design of the Proteus Class ships – and resulted in the simplified elegance of a rather large floating coal pile. The small machinery and crew spaces have been subordinated to the purpose of getting the coal where it needs to go. And “AP’s” wonderfully detailed model has captured every aspect of that simple elegance. (The Proteus Class collier prop-packs are available in the STEX -- "Historic Navies: 1900 -- Pack #28.) I cannot leave you without mentioning the “Twilight Zone” aspect of the Proteus colliers. During WW I, USS Cyclops, a sister-ship of Proteus, was known to have been in Barbados in March 1918 -- bound for Bermuda. She never reached Bermuda and was never seen again, nor has her wreckage ever been located. She is best remembered as one of the “ghost ships” of “The Bermuda Triangle”. During WW II (10 December 1941) USS Nereus, another of the Proteus Class, sailed from St. Thomas in the Virgin Islands bound for Bermuda (sailing the same sea lane Cyclops had taken). She never arrived in Bermuda and was presumed to have been torpedoed by a German U-Boat. But surviving U-Boat war diaries do not claim any such sinking. It is possible a submarine sank the collier, and was lost soon after -- but there is no record of a lost U-Boat near the area at that time. The wreck of USS Nereus has never been located. Did “The Bermuda Triangle” claim two sister-ships in two different World Wars? Only Rod Serling could answer that question…... MANY THANKS to @Barroco Hispano for his beautiful warship models. SPECIAL THANKS to my friend and partner, @AP, for his talents and extreme dedication. If you enjoyed anything – please punch the “like” button so WE will know. A comment would be even more informative. Comments and critiques requested and gratefully accepted. All questions answered promptly to the best of our ability. THANK YOU for your visit! You may wish to visit these CJ’s as well…… SERIES I: IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: WILHELMSHAVEN SERIES II: IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: CUXHAVEN Appearing – Work In Publication SERIES III: IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: BREMERHAVEN Appearing -- ??? And please feel free to drop in at… THE SIMTROPOLIS SHIPYARD https://community.simtropolis.com/forums/topic/761469-simtropolis-shipyard/?tab=comments#comment-1766496

Hochseeflotte at anchor in the Kieler Hafen – circa 1912. IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: CUXHAVEN By: Dreadnought & AP We have, so far, discussed the design, construction, and operational histories of the Imperial German battlecruisers. We are now about to see how they were handled by the Admirals and Captains, and how they preformed when put to the ultimate test – the Battle Of Jutland. I give you fair warning that this may be somewhat confusing. I have never yet examined a clear and concise – detailed – description of this battle. The immense size of the two fleets, and the fact that they were split into four distinct tactical groups – and spread over a large expanse of ocean -- can cause difficulties for anyone trying to write a lucid account of the action. I have tried, as much as possible, to stick to a “historical” chronological time sequence for the different events of interest. This has not been easy to accomplish. In order to maintain some sort of continuity to the story line, we may have to do a “flash-back” or even a “fast-forward” – this allows me to maintain a complete “story line” without splitting it into confusing parts. The keys to keeping everything in order are the quoted “times” in the text. The Choice was made to split the two fleets into separate components because they preformed different actions and maneuvers at similar times, for very different reasons. So the story is sorted into segments on the British Grand Fleet battle line – the British Battlecruiser Fleet – the Imperial Hochseeflotte battle line – and the Imperial 1st Scouting Group battlecruisers. I will try to show what each of these groups was doing at certain specific times of the battle so you will know what “everyone” was up to. Now -- let’s turn to “literary license”. “History” is not just names, dates, and numbers. It could be a high school project paper, a college term paper, a PHD thesis, a reference work, or a “narrative history” – with the writing shaped to the needs of the given work. I will tell you, frankly – each author brings their own view on the subject matter. Six different authors will produce six different views on any given subject. Case in point: many authors will tell you Erwin Rommel was a tactical and strategic genius – others will tell you he was erratic, impulsive, and ineffective. What some writers consider to be accepted historical fact – others will dispute – and produce their own view of those accepted historical facts. My treatment of the Battle of Jutland is no different. While I accept certain aspects of the battle as “hard fact” – other parts are my own particular viewpoint. In many cases, we cannot know what was in the mind of Admiral Tirpitz when he insisted on certain design and tactical aspects of the battlecruisers. And we cannot know, for certain, what was in Admiral Scheer’s mind on that fateful afternoon. But where recorded fact is absent, we may – through the use of logic and available data – extrapolate a more plausible reasoning behind their actions. I have attempted to do that in instances where there is no “accepted fact” or where the facts stated by the participants do not match with their actions. Where the narrative differs from the written word -- it is MY viewpoint – based on logic, human nature, and the physical and political conditions under which they fought. I have also taken the liberty to “call out” the various parties who indulged in “propaganda” -- or “self promotion” to make themselves look better at the expense of others. Having said all of that, I hope you will enjoy reading…... Chapter 26: THE BEST LAID PLANS In January 1916, Vizeadmiral Hugo von Pohl was forced to relinquish command of the Hochseeflotte due to advanced liver cancer (he died within a month of stepping down). Vizeadmiral Reinhard Scheer was chosen as the new Flottenchef. He was of the opinion the fleet had never been handled properly. Scheer knew he had better ships than the British – his men were just as eager for battle as his enemy – and he was inclined toward a more aggressive strategy. But Scheer was also a practical man. With only 27 capital ships he could not possibly engage 37 British capital ships in a straight-up slugging match. Consequently he fell back on the already standard policy of “tip and run raids”. The idea was to cause a public outcry in Britain by bombarding seaside targets -- thereby forcing the Royal Navy to send capital ships in response. Because of their high speed, it was only logical for Scheer to use the Panzerkreuzer as the bombardment group – and the bait for the trap. The Royal Navy, with centuries of aggressive tradition, would also send fast battlecruisers to intercept the raid. Von Hipper’s 1st Scouting Group would then lure the British over the horizon to be ambushed and destroyed by the massed guns of the Hochseeflotte. By this process, the Oberkommando der Marine hoped to whittle down the Grand Fleet to the point where an engagement might become practical. But these raids had not proven particularly successful in the past. Sometimes there was little response to the raids -- and on one occasion, Hipper’s battlecruisers were, themselves, ambushed and nearly destroyed. But more often than not, the German ambushes failed because the Flottenchef “got the wind up”. The battle squadrons of the Hochseeflotte had been hastily withdrawn before the trap could be properly sprung -- on the mere suspicion the Grand Fleet might suddenly appear. The German fleet commanders were not afraid to engage the enemy, but they were keenly aware an encounter with the bulk of the Grand Fleet could have serious consequences. The loss of even a single German capital ship would only make the disparity in numbers worse. And being outnumbered by the British, nearly two to one, could be catastrophic. A single British dreadnought could fire 100 rounds in a brief, five-minute skirmish. Imagine what could happen if only twenty British ships opened fire. This specter haunted German fleet commanders. Always heavily outnumbered, any one of the Flottenchef could have recklessly destroyed the effectiveness of the Hochseeflotte in a single battle gone badly wrong. The German fleet could have been reduced to a mere harbor guard force – and relieved the Royal Navy of the threat of “the fleet in being”. On a very personal level – no admiral wanted the condemnation of his fellow officers that such a mistake would entail. And the Kaiser had made it quite clear he did not want his battle fleet damaged – so there was always that to be considered. Nevertheless, Admiral Scheer was determined to take the war to the British. He intended to launch frequent raids against British coastal towns and support them with the battle fleet lying in ambush. He increased picket forces in Schillig Roads with the intention of launching attacks on British light forces scouting the German Bight. Scheer wanted increased minelaying operations in the Bight and around the British naval bases, and planned to station submarines off the English harbors in ambush. All of this with the goal of attaining some sort of parity with the Grand Fleet so a fleet engagement might be forced on more favorable terms. When the Admiralstab (German Admiralty) was forced to halt unrestricted submarine warfare in April 1916, Scheer was presented with a golden opportunity. The Flottenchef suddenly found himself with a large number of submarines to deploy offshore of British naval bases. But the British were wary of submarines after nearly two years of war, and mostly kept their capital ships at their moorings rather than swanning about in the submarine infested waters of the North Sea. Scheer would still have to come up with a plan to entice the British warships into his submarine ambush zones. GERMAN PLANNING The Hochseeflotte at their moorings in Wilhelmshaven – circa 1916. The large warship on the left is one of the modern Konig Class dreadnought battleships of the III Battle Squadron. Commissioned August 1914 – 25,796 tons – 21 knots – 10x12-inch guns – 14x5.9-inch guns – 5x20-inch torpedo tubes – belt armor 13.8 inches. The battlecruiser Seydlitz had suffered mine damage during the Lowestoft Raid, and while waiting for repairs to complete, Scheer worked out a rather complicated plan. The operation was to include minelaying, submarines, air reconnaissance by Zeppelins, and an ambush operation with the Hochseeflotte. A bombardment raid against the British coastal town of Sunderland was the centerpiece of the mission. This was the most elaborate “ambush” yet planned, and the whole affair was scheduled for 17 May. Unfortunately, in early May, condenser problems surfaced in the battleships of the III Battle Squadron and the operation had to be pushed back to 23 May. THE SUBMARINES Here you see a number of Kaiserliche Marine U-Boats “nested” against a long pier within the naval base at Kiel – but this scene could just as well have been Wilhelmshaven. More submarines were employed in the North Sea than in the Baltic, but the scene would have been virtually the same. On the left side of the pier you see an older, dark-hulled warship from the 1880’s -- “retired” and converted to a repair and maintenance tender. The lighter-toned ship with the gangplank extended is another submarine tender – this one to provide crew berths while the submarines are in port. No sense living in a cramped submarine when you can have a bunk in a “floating hotel”. Ten submarines were dispatched during the first week in May. They were to take up assigned patrol stations in the central North Sea between 17 and 22 May, after which, they would move to allotted ambush positions. Two of the boats, U-43 and U-44, were assigned to the Pentland Firth, a particularly treacherous stretch of water between Scotland and the Orkney Islands – the entrance to the Grand Fleet base at Scapa Flow. The currents could run as fast as 30 knots and were difficult for submarines – but if the Grand Fleet sortied, they would have to pass the submarines. The remainder of the U-boats were positioned around the Firth of Forth to catch the British Battlecruiser Fleet when it departed its base at Rosyth. Each boat had its own patrol area, allowing free movement to prevent detection, but they were under strict orders to avoid being sighted for fear of giving away the operation prematurely. It was arranged for the submarines to receive a coded transmission signaling the start of the operation, when enemy units might be expected to exit their bases. An additional 11 submarines were allocated associated tasks. UB-27 was ordered out with instructions to work past May Island and into the Firth of Forth, while U-47 was sent to patrol offshore of Sunderland prior to the bombardment. On 13 May, U-72 was detailed to lay mines in the Firth of Forth, and on 23 May, U-74 departed to lay mines in the Moray Firth. Moray Firth connected the North Sea to Cromarty Firth, which was the base of the Grand Fleet’s 2nd Battle Squadron. On 24 May, U-75 sailed to lay minefields west of the Orkney Islands, while UB-21 and UB-22 were sent to patrol the Humber River mouth, in the mistaken belief warships were based there. And finally, U-22, U-46, and U-67 were positioned north of Terschelling to act as an ambush screen should the “Harwich Force” attempt to intervene. At first glance, it would appear the submarine deployment had covered all the enemy bases – but events would show otherwise. As all military plans do, this one began to unravel -- as soon as the submarines put to sea. SMS Seydlitz was returned to duty on 21 May, and within hours it was determined she still had serious leaks that had not been fixed. Scheer, to his credit, was unwilling to risk the battlecruiser squadron in an under-strength condition. Seydlitz was returned to the dockyard and the “Sunderland Operation” was pushed back to 29 May. Meanwhile, the submarines had moved to their ambush stations and were experiencing their own difficulties. The English coast was often shrouded in fog – seriously limiting their visibility. The sea conditions were either so calm the slightest ripple from a periscope gave away their position, or, the sea was so rough the submarines were unable to maintain periscope depth without exposing the conning tower. For a variety of reasons, British patrols became aware of an unusual level of submarine activity, and increased their anti-submarine patrols. UB-27 cleared Bell Rock on its way into the Firth of Forth, then suffered engine trouble. After making repairs, the U-boat followed several merchant vessels into Largo Bay, where one of her propellers got tangled in a submarine net, forcing UB-27 to abort the mission and return to base. U-74 was detected by four armed trawlers on 27 May and went down 25 miles southeast of Peterhead. U-72 had to abort her minelaying mission when it was found she was leaving a trail of leaking fuel oil. U-75 succeeded in laying her minefields west of the Orkney Islands, and though they played no part in the Battle Of Jutland, they did claim a significant victim. On 5 June 1916, the British Secretary Of State for War, Field Marshal Lord Kitchener, 1st Earl Kitchener of Khartoum, boarded the armored cruiser HMS Hampshire and sailed for the Russian port of Arkhangelsk -- on a diplomatic mission to the Romanov Court. Around 19:30, in the teeth of a Force 9 gale, Hampshire struck one of U-75’s mines and went down in 18 minutes. The official losses are stated as 737 men, with 12 survivors. Lord Kitchener was last seen on the quarter deck – his body was never recovered. This could very well be one of the U-Boats on patrol in the Pentland Firth. The waters of the North Atlantic and the North Sea met in the firth and set up shifting cross-currents and miserable conditions for the small submarines of that era. Gales were common and rough seas were considered “normal” weather. Fog and haze regularly limited visibility, and the huge rolling breakers often obscured what could be seen from the conning tower of a low-lying submarine. THE ZEPPELINS This is the dreadnought battleship SMS Thuringen at anchor in the Jade Estuary with one of the Imperial airships passing overhead – circa 1913. By 1916, the Imperial Naval Air Service operated a fleet of large airships built by Luftschiffbau Zeppelin -- often referred to by the general term “Zeppelins”. Several airships were operated in the Baltic Sea, but some 15 large airships were based out of Tondern and Cuxhaven for operations in the North Sea. They were commonly used for bombing raids – mostly against English naval bases – and even targeted the occasional ship they came across. But they are usually linked to the more infamous business of bombing English cities in the later stages of the war. (Imperial Army airships carried out the majority of those raids, while the naval airships performed only 50 bombing raids -- but over 1,000 reconnaissance missions.) Their chief duty, as far as the Kaiserliche Marine was concerned – and their first priority -- was air reconnaissance over the North Sea, and especially the German Bight. The airships were much better suited to long flights over areas where it was not safe to risk weak scouting forces, and unwise to send small groups of capital ships. The airships were capable of spotting units of the Royal Navy at great distances and giving the Hochseeflotte sufficient advance warning and details of enemy strength. The Flottenchef could then decide to engage or retire, based on his strategic goals and tactical situation. It was decidedly better than groups of opposing cruisers blundering about in the mist-shrouded North Sea – when it worked. The “down side” to Zeppelins was that they were entirely at the mercy of the wind and weather. Airships could easily be destroyed by high winds, and a heavy rain could actually add weight to the outer skin – slowing their speed, reducing their altitude, and increasing fuel consumption. At higher altitudes, “icing” could cause serious problems and, much like sailing ships, going against the wind was difficult. If the wind was strong, or came from the wrong direction, the Zeppelins remained grounded. Scheer’s planned Sunderland Operation intended to deploy two Zeppelins to bomb the town immediately before the bombardment. With their bombs gone, the airships were to spread out offshore and search north along the English coast. Other Zeppelins would search farther north for Beatty’s Battlecruiser Fleet and the Grand Fleet, while one more would keep an eye on the Harwich Force. Unfortunately, once the submarines were in position, the wind refused to cooperate. By 28 May, a strong north-easterly wind continued to blow, and the airships could not be deployed, so the raid was postponed, yet again. Now the submarines became a problem, because they could only remain on station until 1 June. After that, with onboard supplies exhausted, they would have to return to port. On the afternoon of the 28th, orders went out from Scheer to cancel the Sunderland Operation and an alternate plan was substituted. The new plan had the same basic objective; to lure a part of the Grand Fleet into an ambush, thereby making use of the submarines before their time ran out. The plan involved taking the Hochseeflotte north and sending the battlecruiser squadron into the Skagerrak to interdict merchant shipping between Scandinavia and Britain. Raw materials vital to the British war effort were shipped via the Skagerrak in regularly scheduled convoys. A raid by Hipper’s 1st Scouting Group could easily destroy escorting British cruisers and seriously disrupt trade for a number of weeks, if not months. Once Hipper’s presence in the Skagerrak was known, the Royal Navy would respond, and Beatty’s fast battlecruisers would arrive first. It would be Hipper’s task to lure Beatty onto the guns of the waiting battle squadrons of the Hochseeflotte. Scheer felt this operation would be safer -- closer to German ports -- and airship reconnaissance could be dispensed with in favor of scouting forces. The Hochseeflotte assembled in Schillig Roads on the 28th, and was ordered to raise steam and be ready for action by midnight. At 14:00 on 30 May, the wind was still too strong for Zeppelins, so the final decision was made to use the alternative plan. It was the biggest operation yet undertaken by the Hochseeflotte, and though farther away from British naval bases, it was not without considerable risk. Nevertheless, the coded signal "31 May G.G.2490" was transmitted to the fleet, ordering the Skagerrak operation for 31 May. The pre-arranged signal to the submarines was transmitted throughout the day from the E-Dienst radio station at Bruges, and the U-boat tender Arcona anchored at Emden. Only two submarines, U-66 and U-32, ever received the signal. BRITISH RESPONSE The 1st Battlecruiser Squadron lying at anchor off Rosyth in the Firth of Forth. The famous “Forth Bridge” is in the background. The dockyards of Rosyth are on the other side of the bridge. When the big ships had to pass under the bridge to get to them, the topmasts had to be lowered to avoid crashing into the structure. Right to left – HMS Lion, HMS Princess Royal, and HMS Indefatigable – circa 1915. As mentioned in previous chapters, the British had broken the German naval codes early in the war. The code-breaking unit in “Room 40” of the Admiralty building carried out direction finding, interception, and decryption of German naval signals. Though they could not decipher all signals, and some took longer than others to decode, the staff was keenly aware that any sudden increase in signal traffic from the German flagship (SMS Freidrich der Grosse) indicated an operation was in the offing. Around 22 May 1916, Room 40 began picking up heightened levels of wireless traffic, followed by an intercepted signal on 28 May providing "ample evidence the German fleet was stirring in the North Sea". As further signals were intercepted, some decoded and some not, it became abundantly clear a major operation was likely. At 11:00 on 30 May, Admiral John Jellicoe (commander Grand Fleet) was warned the German fleet was preparing to sail the following morning. By 17:00, Room 40 had intercepted and deciphered the special signal from Scheer to the U-boats -- "31 May G.G.2490" – and that sealed the deal. Action was imminent. With no knowledge of actual German plans, Jellicoe and his staff decided on a response every bit as large as Scheer’s intended ambush. The combined elements of the Grand Fleet would be positioned in a central location – roughly 100 miles west by south of Lindesnes, Norway. This would place the Grand Fleet in a position to cut the Germans off from the North Atlantic shipping lanes, as well as denying them access to the Skagerrak, thereby protecting the Scandinavian shipping routes and denying the German fleet an avenue of retreat. Once the fleet had rendezvoused, the British would either spring the trap, or sweep down the coast of Denmark in search of their prey. THE DIE IS CAST The 1st Division of Jerram’s 2nd Battle Squadron putting to sea from Cromarty Firth. HMS King George V leads the line, followed by Ajax, Centurion, and Erin – 30 May 1916. With steam up, and the crews closed-up at sailing stations, junior officers throughout the fleet stood stiffly on the bridge wings as bands of rain blew in from the northwest. It was not a cold rain, but the darkness all around made it no less miserable. At 23:30 on May 30, the signal lamps flashed and the moored ships cast off from their buoys. Jellicoe was putting to sea early enough to ensure he arrived at the likely point of interception before the Germans. Mist and funnel smoke hung low over the sea as the 16 dreadnought battleships of the 1st and 4th Battle Squadrons, and the 3 battlecruisers of the 3rd Battlecruiser Squadron, steam out of Scapa Flow. Once clear of Hoxa Sound, the warships increased to 14 knots and set course to the ESE. They would shortly link-up with the 8 battleships of Vice-Admiral Martyn Jerram’s 2nd Battle Squadron coming out of Cromarty Firth. Admiral Beatty’s 6 battlecruisers of the 1st and 2nd Battlecruiser Squadrons, and the 4 fast battleships of Rear-Admiral Hugh Evan-Thomas’ 5th Battle Squadron, weighed anchor and sortied from the Firth of Forth at about the same time. It was Jellicoe’s intention to rendezvous with Beatty’s ships off the mouth of the Skagerrak, near the Jutland coast of Denmark. The first three ships are battlecruisers of the 1st Scouting Group, leading the Hochseeflotte out of the Jade Estuary. The date and occasion are unknown. Lutzow and Derfflinger are leading the line, and the picture was likely taken from Derfflinger’s fantail. Following are Seydlitz, Moltke, and Von der Tann. It can be seen they are altering course to steam out ahead of the battle line. Notice the mist and haze has obscured the low coastline, and the waters of the estuary are smooth as glass. Around 02:00 on 31 May 1916, Admiral Hipper’s raiding force cleared Schillig Roads. The light cruisers and torpedo boats of the 2nd Scouting Group swept down the Jade’s deep-water channel at 14 knots, closely followed by the big battlecruisers. Once clear of the estuary, a half-flotilla of torpedo boats would drop back to screen the seaward flank of the big ships. The light cruisers, their funnels spouting clouds of smoke, strained their engines to reach ahead, where they would take up their advance scouting positions. As the Panzerkreuzer nosed into the rolling swell of the Bight, speed was increased to 18 knots and the squadron steered northwest, then north, skirting the west shore of Heligoland Island via a cleared channel through the minefields. The Hochseeflotte is seen on maneuvers, possibly early in the war. The eight battleships of the III Battle Squadron are leading the line, followed by the I Battle Squadron. The photo was taken from the fantail of a Helgoland Class dreadnought. Note the choppy seas and the funnel smoke drifting to leeward. Admirals had to be careful not to let their own funnel smoke mask the view of the fire control rangefinders. An hour and a half later, Admiral Scheer ordered the Hochseeflotte’s main body to weight anchor and proceed to sea. The advance screen of light cruisers and torpedo boats went first, followed by the sixteen lumbering dreadnought battleships of the I and III Battle Squadrons. They, too, steered northwest from the Jade and would rendezvous around 04:00 with the six pre-dreadnought battleships of II Battle Squadron, coming out of Cuxhaven, on the Elbe River. Historians have given Scheer more than his share of criticism for bringing the II Battle Squadron to Jutland. The first of the old battleships, SMS Deutschland, was commissioned in 1906 – and the last, SMS Schlesien, in 1908. The class displaced only 13,000 tons – half the tonnage of HMS Iron Duke. They were armed with four 11 inch guns – half the broadside of SMS Von der Tann. And their triple expansion engines were rated at only 18 knots. This alone, would impose a serious limitation on the Hochseeflotte’s ability to maneuver. Their liabilities were no secret. Their own crews dubbed them “the five-minute ships” – for they were unlikely to last longer against the powerful British dreadnoughts. During the early planning stages, it had been intended to leave II Battle Squadron behind, as a guard force for the German Bight. And in later years, in his memoirs, Scheer claimed he only agreed to take them at the last moment because Konterdmiral Franz Mauve (flag-officer, commanding II Battle Squadron) had argued passionately to sail with the fleet. Mauve insisted his ships were battle-ready -- and it would be an insult to his ships, his men, and himself, to be left behind when their comrades were sailing against the English. Several historians have actually suggested Scheer may have intended to sacrifice the old ships if things went badly – allowing the modern dreadnoughts to escape, while II Battle Squadron was being shot to pieces. But there is no evidence – then or now -- to support such a notion. The decision to take Mauve’s ships to sea did more credit to Scheer as a man than as an admiral. Scheer had no wish to break the spirit of such brave men – especially in a squadron he, himself, had once commanded. The pre-dreadnought battleships of the II Battle Squadron very early in the war. Not long after hostilities commenced, two of the older Braunschweig Class ships were retired. Note the high volume of funnel smoke produced by the older ships. This would be visible to an enemy many miles away. Forty miles north of Scheer, Hipper’s flag flew at the forepeak of SMS Lutzow, and the Admiral stood on the weather side of the bridge, drinking coffee, and watching the rain and mist mixing with the funnel smoke. With any luck, the weather would clear around 05:00 – daybreak – and he’d have good visibility for convoy-hunting. They might even catch a few British cruisers…… The stage has now been set, and “the play” is about to begin. But first – we should know a bit more about the “players”…… NEXT TIME…… THOSE WHO LEAD BUT – we are not quite finished. Since I could find no way to include game-related pictures on this particular subject matter, we will take another small tour of the Cuxhaven map tile. Below is a shot of the western portion of the Cuxhaven naval establishment (fictional geography, of course). And on the left side, you have an overview of the West Loch anchorage. You have already seen some portions of the lower loch area, but we will focus on the upper portion. I included this “overview” to provide some sort of geographic context. The West Loch was originally intended as an anchorage for the Scouting forces of the Hochseeflotte. As the years passed and the ships became more numerous, the loch became a bit crowded. With the introduction of dreadnought warships in the early 1900’s, it quickly became apparent their larger size could not be accommodated in West Loch. A larger, and more modern facility was constructed on the north shoreline (visible at the top and right of the picture. The new “main anchorage” was much expanded in size, with longer docks and piers to accommodate larger ships, expanded coaling and fuel oil replenishment, and ( for the first time) a dry dock was constructed for the larger cruisers. For our purposes, West Loch was designed to berth the “evolutionary” cruisers of the Kaiserliche Marine -- from the post-ironclad era (late 1880’s), through the armored cruiser period, and including the introduction of dreadnought battlecruisers. This is a view of the northeast corner of West Loch. At the right, you can see the large quay where ship’s stores and various pieces of equipment can be taken aboard. Minor repairs and maintenance can also be accomplished at this quay. (Coaling, ammunition replenishment, or extensive repair jobs, must be handled in the “Main Anchorage” or at the dockyard facilities in Wilhelmshaven.) Directly behind the quays are the warehouses serving them, and across the tracks are more warehouses, work shops, and machine shops. Even small repairs to engines and other machinery often require parts to be cast, machined, and made to order. To the left of the industrial zone is a rail siding where locomotives and rail cars can wait until unloaded, or hauled away if empty. Below that is a tugboat station with a small mooring area for lighters. The quays are modified “battleship docks” from the “PEG SNM Series” of naval lots. “WMP” Seawalls have been added to the piers to make them appear more “turn-of-the-Century”. The “100 ton cranes” on the quay are by “AP”. The long warehouses were borrowed from the “PEG” Seaport lots. The trackside cranes are from the “PEG SNM Dry Dock” lot, and the steam locomotives are “PEG”. Some of the features are “custom re-lotted” in various sizes, while much of the area was put together with 1x1 “custom-made filler lots” of various types. Many of the hundreds of props used to “dress-out” these lots were selected at random from “Lot EDITOR” and are likely available to members on the “STEX” (If they have any interest in industrial zones in their cities). This “detail shot” shows two Emden Class light cruisers “nested” along the quay. They are taking aboard ship’s stores on the odd chance they may be ordered to the Far East on short notice. If ordered to the China Station, they will be moved to the Replenishment Piers to take on fresh provisions. These gorgeous models were provided courtesy of Barroco Hispano. This is one of the two tugboat stations in West Loch. The tug dispatch tower is borrowed from the small Maxis airport. The tug piers are re-purposed from the “Somy Japanese Tug” lot. The Quonset Hut is from the “PEG SNM Series”. The water tower (for fire-fighting) was re-purposed from the Maxis Movie Studio “reward” lot. The roads are Paeng’s Grunge Concrete, and concrete textured lots were “custom-made” as 1x1 filler lots with various activity in progress. Another view of the tug station. This is a “detail shot” of the tugboat models. The white steam tugs were provided by “WolfZe”, and are similar to small harbor tugs of the 1920’s to 1940’s in such places as New York and Philadelphia. The rest of the tugs are the excellent modeling work of “AP”. Left to right is a Midgard Class, a Thor Class, the larger Passat Class, and two Odin Class tugs nested against the seawall. Rather than make them all look alike, we researched dozens and dozens of photos to select individual tugs with the proper “look” and “feel” for their duties and the period. This angle gives you a detailed look at the profiles of the tugs. “AP” put a lot of work into these little beauties. A great deal of detail and custom texturing has been worked into them. These little boats have a very “authentic” look to them – neat and “ship-shape” – but “worn” and “lived-in” as well. Historical accuracy is a good thing – but realism is just as important. At the bottom of the picture you can see a formation of sailors, with other sailors working with Atlantic fenders. The sailors, officers, Atlantic Fenders, and rope coils are all by “AP”. This is a small mooring basin adjacent to the tug station. If room is available, you can park the odd tug, or squeeze in just one more lighter while someone figures out what to do with it. A Sophia Class steam paddle tug stands by while the small boat crews hook up a tow line to the lighter with the red barrels. The Sophia is a diagonal model – part of our goal to increase the number of diagonal models in the game. The large lighter on the left carries powder charges, while the one next to it is carrying ammunition for 5.9-inch cruiser guns. Several of the cruisers in the West Loch may be ordered abroad and will fill their magazines before departure. This view shows the excellent detail on the Sophia Class paddle tug. Coal-fired, steam paddle tugs were common all over the world from the Victorian Era well into the 1950’s. The lighters are moored to wooden structures known as “mooring dolphins”. These are quite common, to this day, in harbors all over Europe (Hamburg, etc) – and in many places along navigable rivers (the Rhine and Main). If you want to see highly detailed, authentic models – just look at “AP’s” lighters and cargo. He has taken a simple barge and turned each one into a world of its own. I have counted 11 separate details on just one of the barges – any of which could have been made quicker and easier by not including them. Just look at the stacked bags in the small lighters – or the odd planks and boxes carelessly left in the large lighter – or the different textures in the bottom planks of the empty one. Marvelous detail, and very imaginative. And this is a close-up of the rail siding. The buildings are re-lotted from SFBT models. The siding with the steam locomotives was re-lotted from “NBVC” oil filling lots and the locomotives, again are “PEG”, modified to have “steam”. One of the boxcar sidings is re-lotted from an NBVC track with assorted cars – the other is a slightly modified triple-siding from “Simmer2”. Note the landscaping around the siding. Heavily wooded slopes on the right, the retaining wall in the center, and the sandy slopes and small hills on the left. All of it has been “painted” with MMP work, while the heavily wooded areas are a combination of custom-made 1x1 tree-filler lots, and MMP work to blend it all together. Very tedious work – but quite realistic. MANY THANKS to @Barroco Hispano for his beautiful warship models. SPECIAL THANKS to my friend and partner, @AP, for his talents, 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 https://community.simtropolis.com/journals/journal/5910-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 Derfflinger -- circa 1916 – post-Jutland. The distinctive heavy tripod mast was added after the battle. In this unusual photograph, we see the battlecruiser at anchor in Schillig Roads under a heavily overcast sky – possibly a storm moving in from the North Sea. The composition of the picture provides an almost perfect silhouette of the warship – showing her long, low, and graceful lines to advantage. IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: CUXHAVEN By: Dreadnought & AP Chapter 23: THE “IRON DOG” COMETH SMS Derfflinger – late 1914. Her sea trials were a bit unusual in that they were conducted under wartime conditions with fuel and ammunition loads much heavier than normal. Here you see her riding low in the water and at speed. Naval analysts and historians have tried for a century to classify the seven battlecruisers of the Kaiserliche Marine into some sort of cohesive grouping. Most have chosen to assign Von der Tann, Moltke, Goeben, and Seydlitz to a single “class” which, at first glance, is a reasonable theory. All four ships are quite similar in appearance – with the exception of Von der Tann – the FIRST German battlecruiser. With only four main battery turrets, Von der Tann is the “odd-man-out”. Moltke and Goeben were built as “twins”, and the numerical data and visual appearance of the two ships is very nearly identical. But these two were built flush-decked, which set them apart from either Von der Tann or Seydlitz. Finally, Seydlitz, though somewhat similar in design concept to the other three, was different in numerous details – and far more advanced. I have chosen to address this question by listing them as three separate classes -- Von der Tann Class, Moltke Class, and Seydlitz Class. It should be acknowledged that Von der Tann, as the first Imperial battlecruiser, originated the main battery arrangement, the deck layout, the improved propulsion system, and the brilliant armor suite. The remaining three ships, each in its’ turn, was an improvement on that design – Moltke was better than Von der Tann – and Seydlitz was better than Moltke. Had war not broken out in 1914, this pattern of improving each ship over the last would have continued into the foreseeable future (though the budget deficit was becoming a critical issue). In Britain, it was not uncommon to see three, four, or even five ships built in a class. Their dreadnoughts of the battle line were built to a, more or less, standard configuration. (Sort of like the old sailing “ships-of-the-line” – when you got a good design you just built a “flock” of them). And Britain had a ridiculously small army, so the wealth of their empire could be lavished upon the Royal Navy. Imperial Germany could not do that. Their shipyards took between three and four years to build a dreadnought – far too long to compete with England. And Germany simply did not have the economic base to support both a large and well-equipped army, and a technically advanced and extremely costly navy. Tirpitz had gotten the Reichstag to agree to three dreadnoughts and a battlecruiser each year – which sounds fairly competitive. But it was “breaking the bank” in Berlin. Germany’s strong suite in 1914 was its superb army. In 1914, each “tactical army” was composed of anywhere between three and seven army corps. Each army corps consisted of two infantry divisions with associated artillery, light troops, pioneer detachments, etc, etc. The cost of a single battlecruiser would have paid for three army corps. You see the dilemma, here. Consequently, Imperial Germany did not build large numbers of ships in any “class” – but they built each ship better than the last. The idea of “qualitative superiority” was carried to its ultimate expression with the development of the battlecruiser as a “fast battleship”. And Imperial Germany engineered this marvel first. The British claim to have built the first “fast battleship” -- HMS Queen Elizabeth – but that is debatable. (A discussion better saved for another day.) There were other “fast” dreadnoughts – notably, the Italian dreadnoughts and the Japanese Kongo Class – but NONE of the “speedy” dreadnoughts in other navies could compare with the armor protection incorporated into the Imperial battlecruisers. In their balance of guns, armor, and speed, they were far and away superior to their opponents in their ability to fight and survive. But – they had their flaws – as will be seen. GROSSE KREUZER K - 1911 The keel has been laid – circa March 1913 – and the “double bottom” has been plated over in the center, while the hull form continues to expand into the “bilge” areas. Less than two weeks after the contract for SMS Seydlitz was awarded to Blohm & Voss Shipyard (mid-April 1910) the Design Section of the Kaiserliche Marine requested the General Navy Department to set out specifications for the battleship and cruiser designs for 1911. This would allow time to prepare building documents, run formulas, and begin planning sketches. The General Navy Department considered it too early to speculate: firing trials for Krupp’s new 12-inch rifle (destined for the Helgoland Class) had not been completed – a new triple-turret project had just been started by Krupp – and Machinenfabrik Augsburg-Nurnberg (MAN) was developing large marine diesel engines at the Germania Shipyard – all of which could have an effect on the 1911 ships. Nevertheless, Vizeadmiral Paschen (GND) set forth his own suggestions for the “Grossen Kreuzer 1911”… “The new English battlecruisers have been confirmed as mounting 13.5 inch guns, so a battery of ten guns with a caliber increase to 12 inch guns is unavoidable. (My Italics.) The difference of shell weight – 302kg against 600kg – becomes too large. And we must increase our armor protection to allow time for our guns to take effect. The ten 12 inch guns must be placed on centreline, or in the usual diagonal arrangement. Further, we must consider a three-shaft propeller arrangement with the center shaft coupled to a large cruising diesel to provide practical experience with these new engines. And it is my considered opinion that we must re- examine our underwater protection systems in view of the new intelligence concerning English mines and torpedoes.” In this brief statement is the genesis of the battlecruiser that would come to be nicknamed “The Iron Dog” by her opponents. And it is just as well Paschen was thinking along these lines. “Grosse Kreuzer 1911”, once laid down, would likely join the Hochseeflotte some time in 1914. At that point, the Royal Navy would already posses three 13.5-inch-gunned battlecruisers – HMS Lion, Princess Royal, and Queen Mary. And a fourth one, HMS Tiger, would join the Grand Fleet in October 1914. That would give Britain a total of ten battlecruisers. By contrast, the Hochseeflotte would have a total of five battlecruisers – only one of which would mount 12-inch guns (if the option was taken to increase the gun caliber in 1911). HMS Tiger – circa 1914: 28,500 tons – 28 knots – 8x13.5-inch guns – 12x6-inch guns – 4x21-inch torpedo tubes – belt armor 9 inches. Often referred to as the “most beautiful warship, ever” -- she is certainly a formidable opponent, but still suffers from thin belt armor – and an “overall” lack of armor protection. HMS Tiger’s “working-up” period was accelerated, ensuring her training was sufficient to allow her to join the Grand Fleet Battle Cruiser Squadron by October 1914. That gave the British five 12-inch-gunned battlecruisers and four more with 13.5-inch guns. (HMAS Australia would be stationed in Australia at the outbreak of hostilities and would remain there until the German East Asiatic Squadron had been dealt with.) This beautiful model of HMS Tiger is courtesy of @Barroco Hispano. While it may be debated as to whether or not Tiger was the “most beautiful warship ever built”, she was certainly the most handsome British battlecruiser. With her superstructure concentrated in a single mass, slightly forward of midships, the uncluttered fore-deck and after deck spaces made her 704-foot length appear much longer and more graceful. Just as a point of reference, her turrets were lettered, bow to stern – “A”, “B”, “Q”, and “X”. Five of her casemated 6-inch secondary guns were concentrated in a compact arrangement on the Battery Deck alongside the superstructure on either beam. A sixth 6-inch gun was mounted on either beam abaft “Q” turret – an arrangement made necessary by the location of the “Q” turret magazines. A close-up showing the compact nature of Tiger’s superstructure. The tripod mast has the forward bridge and command positions built into it, while the armored conning tower and rangefinder is located in front of it, just to the rear of “B” turret. Unlike previous battlecruisers, Tiger’s boiler rooms were arranged together below decks, allowing the three funnels to be grouped close together in the rear portion of the superstructure. This created a visually pleasing arrangement with the impression of power and speed. The turret arrangements for the Lion Class and HMS Tiger were somewhat odd. British designers had not yet devised a suitable method to allow superfiring turrets to fire one over the other. (The blast over-pressure could cripple the gun crews in the lower turret.) Consequently, “A” turret could fire directly ahead, but “B” turret could only fire at a divergent angle to port or starboard off the bow. “Q” and “X” turret, for maximum efficiency, should have been superfiring -- but the main concern here, seemed to be from Royal Navy officers. They were afraid both stern turrets, grouped so closely, could easily be knocked-out with a single salvo. Needless to say, it is odd the design included superfiring turrets at the bow where the same problem might occur. By late 1911, the British had begun to perceive the threat posed by the Imperial battlecruisers. First Sea Lord, Winston Churchill, still unaware of the power and rugged strength of the Panzekreuzer, was seeking a means to neutralize them in tactical combat. Jackie Fisher had retired from the Admiralty in January, but was in constant correspondence with Churchill – and advocated for a big-gun, armored battleship, fast enough to maneuver against the head (van) of the enemy battle line and concentrate their fire against it. That was the official “Admiralty line” when asking Parliament for the ships. But Churchill’s real purpose in seeking a British “fast battleship” was to neutralize the German battlecruisers and prevent them from maneuvering against the van of the Grand Fleet. Churchill’s solution to the tactical dilemma was the five ships of the Queen Elizabeth Class – HMS Queen Elizabeth, Warspite, Barham, Valiant, and Malaya. Queen Elizabeth would join the fleet in December, 1914. HMS Queen Elizabeth: 32,590 tons – 24 knots – 8x15-inch guns – 16x6-inch guns – 4x21-inch torpedo tubes – belt armor 13 inches. Purpose-built as a “fast battleship”, she was heavily armored, with massive 15-inch guns. Though capable of 24 knots, she was only 3 knots faster than the battleships of the Grand Fleet, and when “push came to shove” – she was 3 knots slower than the Imperial battlecruisers. The “QE” would be dangerous -- but could be managed. Soon after Admiral Paschen made his thoughts known, State Secretary von Tirpitz initiated meetings with department heads centered around the armament and propulsion of the new cruiser. Opening the first meeting, Konteradmiral Gerdes, chief of the Weapons Department, presented the results of the latest firing trials and performance diagrams of 11-inch, 12-inch, and 13-inch rifles. The collected data and written notes gave a comparative evaluation of projectile effects at long ranges – with an estimated engagement range of 9,000 – 11,000 yards, and an assumed target armor thickness of 10 inches. Gerdes then went on to say he believed the 11-inch gun was no longer adequate -- especially since the new cruiser would be closely involved with enemy dreadnoughts possessing belt armor of 12 inches or more. He also pointed out the proposed move to eight 12-inch weapons would only entail a weight increase of approximately 40 tons – including increased gun house armor. Von Tirpitz, thoroughly fixated on the 11-inch weapon, disagreed. He could not imagine an engagement range of 11,000 yards – and certainly nothing above that. And believed, even at 11,000 yards, the range would be closed quickly to a much more “close quarters” battle. He further stated the much shorter battle range would favor the five 11-inch turrets over the four 12-inch turret arrangement. From everything I have found in this and numerous similar discussions, the stubborn and short-sighted reluctance to increase the gun caliber can be put down to cost and his out-dated notions of a short-range gun-battle. Unquestionably, his reasoning left a great deal to be desired. The eight 12-inch guns in twin turrets could be procured with only a minimal cost increase over the ten 11-inch guns in twin turrets. Konteradmiral Gerdes had shown the numbers on that and shattered the cost objection. Von Tirpitz’ real objection was that he wanted ten guns in five turrets because he believed more guns in more turrets would be harder to disable in a battle fought at less than 10,000 yards. No doubt this stubborn conviction was born in his days as a young Kapitan -- when Dewey defeated the Spanish at Manila Bay and Togo dismantled the Russian Fleet at Tsushima. To borrow a current tactical philosophy – Tirpitz envisioned re-fighting Tsushima with ships that were twenty times more powerful and vastly more advanced. The old Admiral’s mind simply had not moved with the times. He did not seem to have fully grasped the technological advances in guns and gunnery fire control that had made close quarter combat obsolete. Why close to 10,000 yards when your 12-inch guns could score hits at 16,500 yards? And in all the design discussions I found, only Vizeadmiral Paschen drove the point home about the advantages of bigger guns and bigger shells. The bigger gun (12 inch – 13.5 inch) usually had a greater range – but it invariably had a bigger and more powerful shell. A larger, heavier, shell fell with greater velocity and penetrating power – especially armor-piercing shell. Simply put – it had more kinetic energy and could punch through thicker armor. It also had a larger bursting charge and caused more damage. Early in the war British high explosive shells, in particular, used Lyddite as a more powerful bursting filler -- and it caused tremendous internal damage to lightly armored areas (in addition to turning everything a ghastly shade of yellow). Again, Tirpitz never seemed to understand the value of the larger caliber shell – because he thought the 11 inch could do the same amount of damage at the close battle range he envisioned. “Grosse Kreuzer K” – (SMS Derfflinger) as she would have appeared in late 1914. As the lead ship of the last class of battlecruisers commissioned into the Kaiserliche Marine, she was bigger and more powerful than her predecessors. Note how the superstructure is concentrated in the center of the ship, with the remaining deck space largely free of clutter. The Passat and Nordwind Class tugs are nudging her into a berth in the Old Basin. The docks were re-purposed from “PEG” SNM Series battleship docks and bordered with “WMP” Seawalls to give the appearance of timbered mooring points. The docks were created with red brick texture to give the appearance of older docks (rather than newer concrete). The “Union Warehouse” on the left is from “SM2”, while the row-warehouses on the right were borrowed from “Matb325” and were chosen because of their similarity to structures found in old pictures of the port of Hamburg. The handsome battlecruiser is courtesy of @Barroco Hispano. The tugs, sailors, Atlantic fenders, rope coils, spare anchors, and a bunch of other props were provided by @AP. Stubborn to the last, Tirpitz “tabled” the armament discussion and moved on to what he considered the most important topic – the MAN diesel engines. He saw the emergence of diesel engines as a “...real leap ahead of other navies”. Some department heads did not see it that way – and had issues of their own that needed attention. The Design Bureau was more interested in devising a suitable scheme for underwater protection and reminded Tirpitz a change to diesels would require a new three-shaft design for the propulsion system, and a new hull form for the ship’s stern. Tirpitz was aware of the risk of trying an untested technology, and of the possible delays, but if the situation became critical he could always build the new cruiser as a sister ship to Seydlitz. Reverting to the previous design to save time (and money) had already been done with SMS Goeben -- and the technological changes that should have gone into her had to wait an additional year to be built into Seydlitz. And though the caliber increase to 12-inch guns had been requested on both ships, it was denied on grounds of cost and delay. This “dithering” over gun caliber was, in effect, costing Germany the technological edge their superb armor suit had provided. The British were pushing ahead with higher speeds, bigger guns, and marginal armor increases, while Tirpitz foolishly delayed the inevitable. In essence, Goeben, laid down without technological advances – was a “wasted” ship – a year behind the technology curve. And though improved and updated, and a great ship in her own right, Seydlitz without 12-inch guns, was “wasted” as well. Fortunately, the Construction department did not believe a ship with five 11-inch turrets and diesels to be the most advantageous option. The Design Bureau took the rejected studies from 1910 out of the file cabinets and went to work. By the end of May, a design with four 12-inch turrets on centreline had come together, with another one a month later. At this point, Tirpitz gave way on the gun caliber increase, but clung to his diesel engine until circumstances intervened. In early September 1911, MAN Fabrik determined the experimental diesel, though promising, could not yet develop enough horsepower for capital ships. In a later meeting, several changes were debated and agreed upon, but this resulted in a weight increase and the need to compensate by reducing weight somewhere. A reduction in bow armor was suggested, but Chief Designer Hullmann explained……“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 demonstrated remarkable foresight. On 15 June 1911, the Construction Department presented design 5-B. In the ensuing discussions, the ship’s silhouette was lowered by moving the casemates for the 5.9-inch guns to the Battery Deck and eliminating the upper deck where they had been. It was decided to install a splinter shield between the guns in the main battery turrets, and the forward conning tower was reinforced. And in an effort to save additional weight, eight of the original boilers were to be changed from coal-firing to oil-firing – thereby making use of their smaller size and weight. On 22 June, His Majesty The Kaiser, signed off on the design. The construction contract for “Grosse Kreuzer K - 1911” was awarded to Blohm & Voss, Hamburg, on 5 September 1911. Along with the new contract came a letter from the Kaiser requesting every effort be made to reduce the construction time from three years to just two. The executives in the Hamburg yard replied they would have no trouble accelerating the hull construction – but Krupp Essen Werk could not possibly produce the required guns, turrets, and face-hardened armor plate in such a short time. In those days, big guns were complicated and took time to cast and assemble, while the face-hardening of armor plate was a time consuming forging process. The final design of “Grosse Kreuzer K” produced a strikingly handsome ship representing the pinnacle of Imperial shipbuilding. Two sister-ships would follow, and there would be future designs – some even began construction -- but none would ever see service. The three Derfflinger’s were the last of their kind -- the final class of Imperial battlecruisers -- and are widely regarded as the best all-around capital ships of The Great War Era. The Panzerkreuzer had long, graceful, lines with a deliberately low freeboard and a much reduced superstructure. Her “Spartan” simplicity makes her, aesthetically, among the most handsome. GROSSE KREUZER K - 1911 “Grosse Kreuzer K – 1911” – profile and deck plan as she would appear upon completion. Note the raised forecastle deck of previous designs has been eliminated in favor of a gently ascending deck, starting at the “A” turret barbette and rising to the stem. This feature allows a flush-deck appearance while using the forecastle peak at the stem to reduce waves taken over the bow. She was completed with simple pole masts, but after Jutland, the foremast would be replaced by an unusually tall and heavy tripod mast with a large fire control top. GENERAL CHARACTERISTICS The keel of “Grosse Kreuzer K” was laid on 30 March 1912. She would be launched nearly sixteen months later, on 12 July 1913. At 26,600 tons, her displacement was, roughly, 1,700 tons heavier than Seydlitz. The new cruiser’s hull was longer, at 690 feet, with a new hull form having finer lines, and a redesigned stern configuration. The usual “raised”, forecastle deck forward was dispensed with in favor of the Battery Deck rising gently from “A” turret to the sharp and vertical stem. This shape “cut” through the waves and threw water away from the bow, while giving the battlecruiser a graceful flush-deck appearance. The hull was plated with Siemens-Martin “mild steel” for flexibility and resilience, with a newly designed system of “longitudinal framing”. This system had been in use on commercial ships for more than sixty years, and in 1858 was used by Isambard Kingdom Brunel in his leviathan steamer Great Eastern, but had never been applied to warships. Without going into too much detail, the new system provided a savings in weight while strengthening the outer hull structure. There were sixteen watertight compartments on six deck levels, with a double bottom running 65% of her length. The double bottom and extensive use of internal compartmentalization between watertight transverse bulkheads contributed significantly to her underwater protection. “Docking keels” and bilge keels (slightly lower on the hull) were installed amidships, and anti-torpedo nets were a design feature. The new battlecruiser was outfitted with three, improved, “Frahm” roll-damping tanks to improve stability. The tanks were located amidships on the Hold Deck, Armored Deck, and Upper Deck. Though carefully thought-out, and arranged to achieve the best results, tests during the ship’s trials were inconclusive – just as they had been with Von der Tann. If you examine the profile and deck plan diagrams, you will readily see the efficient grouping and placement of the above-decks elements. The utilitarian superstructure is concentrated around the twin funnels amidships, and between the two superfiring gun turrets at either end. The whole of the superstructure has been deliberately reduced in height, even more so than previous battlecruisers – and the upper deck freeboard was reduced by one deck level – all in an effort to make her a smaller target – with a smaller price tag. You cannot help but admire the symmetry and grace of the big cruiser’s hull lines and form, and the simplicity of the open and uncluttered decks. You will note “C” and “D” turrets are separated by a deck housing. This housing provides a bit of storage for “deck kit” and covers the air intakes for the low pressure turbine rooms below, on the Hold Deck. Tirpitz had always been wary of having the two stern superfiring turrets so close together (battle damage), so this solution provided a degree of safety. All interior decks were steel plated and covered with linoleum, while exterior (“weather”) decks were steel plated with 2.5 inches of Teak planking. The ship’s electrical suite consisted of two Siemens-Schuckert turbo-dynamos and two Blohm & Voss two-stroke diesel dynamos totaling 1,660kw output at 220 volts. As a precaution against battle damage, the turbo-dynamos were mounted above the high-pressure turbines, on the Upper Platform Deck, while the two-stroke diesels were installed to port and starboard on the Hold Deck. As built, the new battlecruiser was equipped with eight 43-inch searchlights -- four each, grouped around the fore funnel and aft funnel. After the Skagerrak Battle, a heavy tripod mast forward replaced the pole mast and two searchlights were moved to the forward legs, while an additional searchlight was mounted in the platform structure of the mast. The new ship continued the extensive “ring” drainage and pump system, with a considerable increase in pumping capacity – a fifth high-capacity centrifugal pump was added on the Hold Deck, aft. In a pinch, portable electric “leak” pumps were also carried, and the powerful condenser pumps could also be used for drainage. The cruiser was equipped with the “standard” two wireless transmitters, three receivers, and as many antennas, with an additional transmitter/receiver installed in the forward conning tower. “Grosse Kreuzer K” would ship a crew of 44 officers and 1,068 men. MACHINERY ”Grosse Kreuzer K” received fourteen coal-fired, Schulz-Thornycroft water-tube boilers. These were the “naval-double-type”, custom-built in the Blohm & Voss Boiler Works to a modified design with four water drums and two steam drums. These more powerful, weight-saving, boilers were first used in Von der Tann. The coal-fired boilers had a total of fifty-six fireboxes and were arranged in the four aft boiler rooms, with each room divided by a longitudinal bulkhead. The new cruiser was also fitted with four double-ended oil-fired boilers as an experimental trial. These would allow the cruiser to raise steam for maneuvering more quickly, could produce a larger volume of steam, avoided problems with inferior coal, and greatly reduced the number of trimmers and stokers in the crew. After 1916, supplemental “oil-firing” was installed on the remaining boilers. Since the ship was designed to carry up to 3,500 tons of coal and 1,000 tons of oil fuel, the protective function of the coal bunkers was not diminished. The boilers fed four sets of Parsons Steam Turbines manufactured (under license) at the Blohm & Voss Engine Works. High-pressure turbines in the forward engine room worked the two outer shafts, while low pressure turbines in the aft engine room worked the two inner shafts. There were reversing arrangements on all four shafts. The forward and aft engine rooms were divided along the centreline by a longitudinal bulkhead. “Grosse Kreuzer K” was designed to generate 63,000shp. The two rudder, tandem centreline arrangement was retained -- each rudder controlled by an auxiliary steering engine connected with a steam-driven spindle drive. In the event of damage, both rudders could be coupled to a single engine, or manually operated. It should be remembered -- the tandem rudders resulted in extremely poor handling at slow speeds – making it virtually impossible to move these ships in harbors or canals without attending tugs. SHIP’S ARMAMENT This is the Krupp Gun Works at Essen – circa 1901. These appear to be 10-inch rifles from that era. The massive armaments works were run by Gustav Krupp von Bohlen und Halbach (a close friend of Wilhelm II) and became the chief supplier of guns and armor to both the German Army and the Kaiserliche Marine. The facilities employed some 70,000 workers and supplied weapons to many nations. Prior to 1887, Russia purchased 3,096 pieces of Krupp ordnance, while the Ottomans bought 2,773. By 1912, Turkey had purchased another 3,943 weapons. (The guns guarding the Dardanelles in 1915 were Krupp.) During the same time frame, Romania acquired 1,450 guns – Bulgaria 517 – Greece 356 – Austria-Hungary 298 – Montenegro 25 – and little Serbia, just 6 guns. MAIN BATTERY “Grosse Kreuzer K” finally adopted the 12-inch SK-L/50 (QF) high-velocity gun for the main battery armament. The rifles were mounted in the Drh L-C/1912 gun house which weighed approximately 550 tons. As with all German naval turrets of the period, they had a designed elevation of +13.5 degrees, providing a range of 17,700 yards. After the Battle Of Dogger Bank the turrets were altered and the range increased to 22,300 yards. The gun was capable of firing a 915 lb shell -- either armor-piercing or high-explosive – at the rate of three rounds per minute. Tests showed “capped” armor-piercing shells (base-fused) capable of penetrating 12 inches of armor plate at 14,000 yards. At 16,000 yards, the same shell could only penetrate an 11-inch plate. The high-explosive shell could penetrate before detonating – even on some armored areas. But on unarmored parts, the shell would detonate 2-6 meters behind the point of impact. The gun houses were electrically trained and hydraulically elevated, but could also be operated manually. All turrets were now fitted with 12-foot Zeiss rangefinders, and two gas-expelling fans were mounted on the rear wall of the turret. Due to the increased weight of the new shell and powder charges, manual handling and ramming was no longer possible. A mechanical rammer was installed in the rear of the gun house. The muzzle velocity of 875mps was a bit slower than the 11-inch rifle – but provided a barrel life of 200 rounds. The magazines held 65 armor-piercing and 25 high-explosive shells per gun tube. This is an excellent view of the 12-inch SK-L/50 (QF) high-velocity rifles mounted in a “test” pair of newly designed Drh L-C/1912 gun houses. The new gun was recently accepted for use in the Helgoland Class battleships, and this new variant of the gun house (turret) was created for use in the new battlecruiser. The unusual shape of the sloping roof is clearly visible, while the actual gun house presents a very low profile. (The sloping portions on the side roof would eventually be removed and a new front glacis plate designed before the pattern was approved.) Note the turret height compared to the workman. These are being hand-assembled and tested in the Krupp Turret Assembly Shop before the design is finalized and put into production. Fire Control “ranging and spotting” was handled from the fore or aft conning towers, whose upper floors housed the Fire Control Party operating Zeiss 15-foot stereoscopic rangefinders mounted on the roof. Other, smaller, rangefinders were installed in various locations -- even a crow’s nest Fire Control position and rangefinder was built into the foremast. The control stations were connected to a Central Gunnery Control situated beneath the protective armored deck. Here, the ship’s plotting team received data from the remote stations, calculated target information, and issued azimuth and elevation orders to the “Turret Captains” via telephones or electro-mechanical “repeaters”. SECONDARY BATTERY ”Grosse Kreuzer K” had the standard secondary battery of 5.9-inch guns – the usual SK-L/45 (QF) high velocity weapon. It was an excellent, all-around, complement to the ship’s main battery. The twelve guns were mounted on the Battery Deck, in MPL-C/1906 armored casemates, six amidships on either beam. Unlike preceding battlecruisers, the freeboard had been deliberately lowered in this design to save money and provide a more difficult target for enemy gunners. Consequently, the secondary batteries were too close to the water and were “wet” a good deal of the time. There would be encounters during the war when these guns proved difficult to operate -- but the guns were manned and fought – nonetheless. (See Chapter 17 for specifics on gun performance.) TERTIARY BATTERY Twelve 3.5 inch SK-L/45 (QF) high-velocity guns were provided for torpedo boat defense in the original design. But war experience showed these guns to be useless against modern destroyers, and they were removed. (See Chapter 36 for specifics on gun performance.) During the war, four 3.5-inch “Flak L/45” cannon mounted in MPL-C/1913 mounts were positioned around the forward funnel – two on either beam. They proved of little use during the war since British aircraft were generally unreliable and were, for all practical purposes, incapable of damaging a capital ship. Here we see SMS Derfflinger made fast at a repair dock while the engineering section and dockyard mechanics make repairs to her starboard low-pressure turbine. Unlike the preceding battlecruisers, Derfflinger and her sister-ship Lutzow suffered with frequent turbine damage. Steam turbines were a relatively new propulsion system in the early years of the 20th Century. The turbine was a simple concept on paper, but proved to be a complicated and delicate piece of precision engineering. A very small machining variance could cause no end of trouble. But, it should be noted, no Imperial battlecruiser ever suffered engine failure during a combat operation. TORPEDO ARMAMENT As was customary for the time period, “Grosse Kreuzer K” was fitted with four submerged 20-inch torpedo tubes. They were arranged one tube fore and aft, and one on each beam. Twelve new type G-7 torpedoes were carried. ARMOR “Grosse Kreuzer K”, in common with all Panzerkreuzer, had an extensive armor suite. Having full knowledge the British were now mounting the BL 13.5-inch Mark V/45 – a much more powerful weapon -- the new battlecruiser would have to be armored to withstand these guns. Krupp Cemented Armor, face-hardened with nickel-steel, unlike previous designs, was used more creatively – not just in the “armor belts” and turrets. A new armored plate was employed – a vertical plate – rather than the usual rows of horizontal plates. This formed the main armor belt and took the place of the “citadel” belt as well – so the former two armored belts were replaced by a single, equally large, but homogeneously rolled, “taller” plate. The plate was 12 inches thick on the Main Armor Belt level (amidships) and tapered to 11 inches covering the Citadel Armor Belt above. A separate level above that, the Battery Deck, had a 6 inch belt up to the main deck level, while the 5.9-inch guns mounted there had 3.5-inch casemated shields. In essence, her armor was not only slightly thicker, but harder to penetrate. Due to the differences in the hull form and silhouette, the armoring pattern differed, in certain respects. But with the flush-deck arrangement and considerably lower freeboard, there was actually more armor spread over a smaller area. Reducing her upper-works by one entire deck level early in the design stage not only saved a good deal of money, but was a positive stroke of genius. Imperial German capital ships were consistently built with extensive and unusually thick armor suites by comparison to other navies, but “Grosse Kreuzer K” was very nearly the epitome of the “fast battleship”. (I’m only going into the armoring scheme’s important aspects – see Chapters 15 and 17 for extensive details.) The new battlecruiser was armored throughout with Krupp Cemented Armor, face hardened with nickel steel, and backed with 2 inches of Teak to prevent spalling. Dillingen-Hutte Fabrik provided the structural construction steel. The “protective armored deck”, unlike foreign warships, extended from stem to stern. The main battery turrets were also protected with Krupp Cemented Nickel Steel armor – turret faces 11 inches – sides 9 inches -- and back 10.5 inches – roof 4.5 inches. The forward conning tower was protected by 14-inch armor -- the aft conning tower had 8 inches. The armor scheme was thicker and better arranged, and was, by all standards – impressive. But there were other “passive defense” features. SMS Derfflinger is made fast at her mooring points inside Cuxhaven Roadsted. An Odin Class tug has come alongside with a lighter bearing fresh fruit and vegetables. It would appear the Admiral’s steam launch has hooked onto the end of the boat boom – von Hipper must be staying for dinner. At sea, under combat conditions, the officers and crew would be served coffee, bread, cheese, fruit, and sometimes a hot soup. But in port, full meals could be cooked – usually breakfast, a light lunch, and dinner. Simple math says the nearly 1,100 man crew could consume around a ton of provisions per day – not to mention beer and Schnaps. The small ship anchored outside the breakwater is a guard ship. (The gunboat USS Erie was – provided by Barroco Hispano -- see earlier chapters for details.) The battlecruiser and steam launches are also from Barroco Hispano. The mooring points (modified) are from “Mattb325”. Breakwaters by “Uki”. The motor launch out in the roadsted, small boats, sailors, tug, and lighter are all by "AP". The underwater protection of “Grosse Kreuzer K” was slightly improved over that of Seydlitz – several compartments below the Protective Armored Deck were permanently sealed off to provide the forward part of the ship more reserve buoyancy. (This proved to be a good idea – but was hardly sufficient.) Beyond that, the standard pattern was followed with minor variations. Sixteen transverse bulkheads divided the ship into seventeen vertical watertight compartments and the protective armored deck (at the waterline) further divided several compartments horizontally. Between the transverse bulkheads were the usual numerous subdivisions -- each compartment capable of being sealed against flooding with watertight doors. In effect – the interior of the hull was a “honeycomb” designed to keep the ship afloat in the event of damage. There were exceptions to the system, usually in the engineering spaces – boiler rooms and engine rooms – where the compartments were large, and often two or three decks in height. Following her predecessors, the new cruiser was given a built-in, armored torpedo bulkhead running between the fore and aft barbettes, along either beam. “Grosse Kreuzer K” had well over 90 watertight compartments – considerably more than most foreign warships – and she would be able to withstand a great deal of damage. (See Chapter 13 for difficulty sinking Blucher.) As always, the common coal bunker provided yet another layer of protection on Imperial warships. Like Von der Tann, the Moltke’s, and Seydlitz, the new battlecruiser made extensive use of outboard hull spaces as coal bunkers. (See Chapter 17 for specific details.) “Grosse Kreuzer K” was given the full suite of wrap-around coal bunkers. As a simple solution, coal was cheaper than Krupp steel, necessary to power the ship, and could absorb more destructive energy than a thick armor plate. Though other navies used protective coal bunkers, none were as comprehensive as those found on German capital ships. “Grosse Kreuzer K” was, in its own way, a revolutionary improvement over the first four Imperial battlecruisers. Seydlitz had been built to the same basic pattern as the Moltke’s, but had a greatly improved armor suite giving her a rugged strength that would prove itself in battle. The new battlecruiser inherited all the technology incorporated into Seydlitz and was given an even better armor suite. Her main battery was increased to 12-inch caliber, and for the first time, was centreline-mounted in superfiring turrets fore and aft – providing wide and overlapping firing arcs. Combine all that with her long, sleek, lines – lengthened forecastle – low central superstructure – and low freeboard – and you have all the basic components of the “fast battleships” that would fight a quarter of a century later. Her very appearance bespoke speed and power and, literally, set her apart as a creature of a more modern age. “Grosse Kreuzer K” was fast, rugged, powerful, and an immensely handsome warship. She would prove to be lethal in combat and nearly impossible to sink. As the lead ship of her class, she was the precursor of the three best battlecruisers to serve in The Great War and, arguably, the three finest capital ships ever built – in any navy. And all of that – for the paltry sum of 56 million Marks. On 14 June 1913, after fourteen months on the builder’s slip at Blohm & Voss, “Grosse Kreuzer K” was christened SMS Derfflinger – in honor of Georg von Derfflinger (1606-1695) – governor of Pomerania and Feldmarschal to the Great Elector of Brandenburg-Prussia. Von Derfflinger served Prussia in various capacities for the bulk of his long military career, reorganizing and training the cavalry and artillery branches, as well as being instrumental in Friedrich Wilhelm’s 1675 victory over the Swedes at the Battle of Fenrbellin. With the christening ceremony over, the levers were thrown and the giant hull began to slide down the slipway – and promptly stuck fast. Only three sledges (cradles) had been constructed beneath the ship’s keel and the center one had too much pressure. Another attempt was made on the following tide, but Derfflinger refused to move. Eventually, the center sledge was disassembled, rebuilt, and heavily lubricated – and on 12 July 1913 – the new battlecruiser slide into the waters of the Elbe. Though she had shown some reluctance to “get her belly wet” – she would go on to earn the nickname bestowed on her by her English opponents – “The Iron Dog”. SMS Derfflinger under easy steam – circa 1915. NEXT TIME…… CHILD OF STRIFE MANY THANKS to @Barroco Hispano for his beautiful warship models. MY SPECIAL THANKS to my friend and partner, @AP, for his talents, meticulous detail, colorful imagination, extreme dedication, and wonderful models. We hope you enjoy them just half as much as I do ! 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 https://community.simtropolis.com/journals/journal/5910-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 Goben as she would have appeared on her sea trials -- circa 1912. IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: CUXHAVEN By: Dreadnought & AP Chapter 19: CRUISING THE SUNNY MEDITERRANEAN HMS Lion – circa 1912: 26,270 tons – 28 knots – 8x13.5-inch guns – 16x4-inch guns – 2x21-inch torpedo tubes – belt armor 9 inches. Having made the decision to build “Grosse Kreuzer H – 1909” as a “twin” to SMS Moltke, it saved considerable time and money, lightened the workload in the Design Bureau, and allowed the construction yards to fully utilize the available resources and slipways. It also meant State Secretary von Tirpitz would be able to maintain his building schedule in the naval race against Britain. Since both contracts were awarded to Blohm & Voss early on, as a consolation, F. Schichau Shipyard Danzig, was notified they would be awarded the contract for the dreadnought battleship Oldenburg. The Schichau Yard executives requested the contract be awarded early – considerably ahead of the actual start of construction – so they could avoid laying off experienced yard workers. A mere matter of personnel management versus cash flow – and von Tirpitz agreed. That was all to the good. But there was, of course, a down-side. There were two controversial aspects to the plan – at least, as far as the British were concerned. Tirpitz had already let the contract for Oldenburg and Moltke (as planned) in the 1908-1909 budget year. And the Schichau Yard immediately began assembling advance materials for the battleship. Tirpitz then decided, as a cost-saving measure, to let the contract for “Grosse Kreuzer H-1909” in the 1908-1909 budget year -- to lock-in the costs. It was not intended to start construction on “Kreuzer H” until 1909. But British intelligence quickly became aware of the accumulating materials around the large slipway in the Schichau Yard. And a large slipway could only mean one thing – a capital ship. They also knew Moltke was under construction. When they discovered Tirpitz had let a contract for a third capital ship – it was too much. The British Admiralty declared Germany was building in excess of their own Naval Law – an obvious attempt to threaten Britain’s superiority at sea. The ensuing furor in the British Parliament -- and the public outcry -- resulted in ten capital ships being approved in Naval Estimates (to be laid down over the next two years). Unwittingly, von Tirpitz had “tweaked’ the British Lion’s tail – and gotten ten more opposing capital ships for his trouble. And it was trouble, indeed. The naval arms race between Great Britain and the German Empire was a little like the “500-pound elephant in the room” – no one wanted to talk about it – and yet, everyone talked about it. And worried about it. The British worried because they were an “island people” -- their imports were their lifeline. A strong German fleet could seriously disrupt their supply chain. A strong German fleet -- boldly handled -- could, with a little bit of luck, sever that chain entirely. Realistic or not, that was the way the average Englishman on the street perceived the threat. The German viewpoint was, of course, rather more complicated. Secretary von Tirpitz had his worries as well, and his strategic plan – a bit fuzzy around the edges – involved a “Fleet-In-Being” and “The Risk Theory”. In peacetime, a fleet-in-being was a political chess piece – much like the threat posed by the Queen on a chessboard. The fleet could go places and project German political power into British regions of influence in ways an army simply could not. Tirpitz wanted the “fleet-in-being” – not to defeat the English at sea – but to impress them enough to accept Germany as an equal in the realm of “Weltpolitik”. Every time Germany made a diplomatic move anywhere in the world, she was opposed by either France, or more often, by France and Britain. Tirpitz was certain the German army could handle France, but that would work best if Britain could be persuaded to remain neutral in the event of war. Tirpitz was convinced the threat posed by a strong German battle fleet would work that miracle for him. Unfortunately, The Risk Theory complicated matters somewhat. Tirpitz only had to look at a map to see who his most likely naval opponent would be. And though he claimed he had no desire to go to war with Britain, it was all but inevitable. Britain had, for centuries, exercised a balancing of power in Continental Europe by forming coalitions and backing the “underdogs” against “the big kid on the block”. Germany had the finest army in all of Europe – and in British eyes, that made her dangerous. Wilhelm II, driven by his own fantasies and envy of England (Uncle Bertie) -- and Tirpitz’ ambition -- wanted a fleet to rival the Royal Navy. That would have upset the delicate balance of power on the Continent, and was unacceptable to the British. Though he would rarely admit to it, Tirpitz’ goal was to challenge the Royal Navy. The practical side of the old German Admiral knew it would take nearly two decades to build a fleet of sufficient size to tackle Britain (though he did not fully realize the British would keep moving the goal posts). Consequently, Tirpitz combined the strategic reality existing in the North Sea with some of the basic tenets of Mahan’s thesis on seapower and produced his own adaptation of the Risk Theory. If the Risk Theory were to work, it required a large German battle fleet of the most modern, technologically advanced, powerful battleships German science and industry could produce. And that suited Tirpitz’ own ambition perfectly. If it came to a potential war, the size and power of the battle fleet could act as a deterrent to Britain – who might see a decisive naval clash as prohibitively costly. Even if the German fleet was defeated in battle, it might inflict unacceptable losses on the Royal Navy – losses that might endanger their strategic dispositions around the Empire. If the German fleet was big enough, the British might be disinclined to join a “Continental” war that didn’t directly involve them (Britain’s usual practical application of “Splendid Isolation”). To the average German on a Berlin street corner, the Imperial battle fleet was not thought of as a tool to go to war. It was a shield of deterrence – to stop Britain from throwing its political weight around. (A theory also held, at that time, by the United States.) Tirpitz also worried about being unable to build a fleet big enough. Every time a German warship was laid down in the builder’s yard, the British laid down two or three warships of their own. Tirpitz even feared building ships superior to their British counterparts might not be enough. And, in all truth, he did have cause to worry. In 1912, before the House Of Commons, Winston Churchill (First Lord Of The Admiralty) entirely dismissed the need for a powerful German fleet… “We have never had any thoughts of aggression. The British navy is to us a necessity, and, from some points of view, the German Navy is to them more in the nature of a luxury. (My emphasis.) Our naval power involves British existence. It is existence to us; it is expansion to them…The whole fortunes of our race and Empire, the whole treasure accumulated during so many centuries of sacrifice and achievement – would perish and be swept utterly away if our naval supremacy were to be impaired.” And in response to continued German building, he added...”Instead of overtaking us by additional efforts (Germany) will only be more out- distanced in consequence of the measures which we ourselves shall take...” This single speech in the Commons is what kept Tirpitz awake at night. All one has to do, is to look at the commissioning dates of the various battlecruisers to see the problem. I have laid out the data by country (Britain in black, Germany in red), and arranged them by the year each ship was commissioned…… INFLEXIBLE 1908 INDOMITABLE 1908 INVINCIBLE 1909 VON DER TANN 1910 INDEFATIGABLE 1911 MOLTKE 1911 NEW ZEALAND 1912 HMAS AUSTRALIA 1912 LION 1912 PRINCESS ROYAL 1912 GOEBEN 1912 By the time SMS Goeben (Grosse Kreuzer H – 1909) was commissioned in 1912, the Kaiserliche Marine had built only three battlecruisers. The British had built eight. At the rate the British were building capital ships, there was little hope the Kaiserliche Marine would ever be a decisive “diplomatic threat” to Great Britain. For well over a century, Historians have debated Imperial naval policy and what the High Command hoped to achieve. But two facts are indisputable. (1) The British could – and would – out-build German shipyards at the rate of “two to one” – or better. And (2) Admiral von Tirpitz was painfully aware of that reality. The fact that he chose to pursue the naval arms race regardless of the math, led me to a simple conclusion. The Admiral had grabbed the “British Lion” by the tail in 1897 – by 1910 he was desperate to hang on, and afraid to let go. And that was the strategic situation in 1912, when SMS Goeben hoisted her commissioning pennant. CONSTRUCTION SMS Goeben as she would have appeared during her acceptance trials. This beautiful model portrays everything the real battlecruiser was – fast, powerfully armed, and far better armored than her opponents: 22,979 tons – 27.2 knots – 10x11-inch guns – 12x5.9-inch guns – 4x19.7-inch torpedo tubes – belt armor 11 inches. This work of art is by @AP. The contract for “Grosse Kreuzer H” was signed with Blohm & Voss, Hamburg, on 8 April 1909. The keel was laid on 12 August 1909, and she was launched from the cradle on 28 March 1911. At the launching, the new cruiser was christened “SMS Goeben” in honor of General der Infanterie August von Goeben. The native Hanoverian fought with the Carlist Army in Spain and served in the Prussian wars against Denmark, Austria, and France. In 1871, he fought and won the decisive battle of St. Quentin. Construction of the hull took 17 months, which is good time for a German shipyard, but slow compared to the British. HM Dockyard, Portsmouth, could launch a battleship hull in 12 months. Goeben was then moved to the Blohm & Voss “fitting-out” basin to begin the 14-month process of making her ready to go to sea. The new cruiser was built from the same plans and drawings as SMS Moltke, and differed only in a few insignificant details. For example; Moltke was designed without bilge keels and had to have them installed in a “refit”, to improve her stability. SMS Goeben’s construction included the bilge keels. Not exactly “Earth-shaking” – but a detail, nonetheless. (Rather than repeat all the details, I refer you to Chapter 17.) SEA TRIALS SMS Goeben making a high-speed run during her sea trials. The sea is calm and the weather unusually good. Note the waves rising up along the stern as the ship’s propellers “dig-in”. From the voluminous clouds of funnel smoke, it is obvious the stokers are working in rotating shifts to produce the highest possible speed. After “fitting-out” had been completed, Blohm & Voss put a dockyard crew aboard SMS Goeben and she arrived in the Kieler Hafen on 22 May 1912. On 2 July, Kapitan zur See Otto Philipp commissioned the ship for sea trials, which would last approximately seven weeks. The boilers and turbine machinery preformed well during the course of the trials – exceeding in all respects, the contractual requirements. The turbines were quick to respond to speed requirements, and the boilers functioned well, even under extreme overloading conditions. The measured mile test was run, up and back, at Neukrug with the ship attaining 85,661shp for an average of 28 knots. During the 6-hour forced-draft test, the ship maintained a steady 27.2 knots. Coal consumption, during the measurement trip, remained – in all circumstances – significantly below the specified figures. At 12 knots, SMS Goeben, consumed 6.6 tons of coal per hour – her best economical speed. Her cruising speed of 14 knots gave her an operating radius of 4,120 miles. At her top, sustained, speed of 27.2 knots, the battlecruiser devoured 52 tons of coal per hour. This explains why coal-burning warships did not “race around” everywhere they went. The gunnery trials were conducted toward the end of the cruise, mainly due to being short-handed. The Kaiserliche Marine suffered from a chronic shortage of crewmen during most of its’ existence, and Goeben was, in particular, short of trained gun crews and ammunition handlers. It was finally decided the superfiring turrets aft would be exercised as a “pair” (salvo fire), while the others would be tested one turret at a time. Untrained crewmen could have been pressed into service to man all five turrets, but it was deemed unwise to put untrained crewmen into highly dangerous positions. In the end, all the main and secondary guns were successfully drilled and fired – meeting required standards. It was, however, decided the anti-torpedo-boat guns were badly sighted with poor arcs of fire. The final report recommended they be removed and future battlecruisers should be armed with additional 5.9-inch guns instead. The aft searchlight platforms, like Moltke’s, were often shrouded in funnel smoke and ash from the forward funnel. Some time after commissioning, three of the main damage control pumps suffered a total failure when water leaked into the electric motors. They were repaired, but it was recommended the centrifugal pump impeller be housed separate from the motor housing. The electrical turbo-dynamos took a little time to “break-in”, but eventually ran smoothly and reliably. The final report deemed Goeben, as a whole, quite satisfactory in almost every respect. However, the point was made that the 11-inch main battery armament was weak by comparison to other navies mounting larger 12-inch weapons. No doubt Kapitan Philipp was making an opinionated comment for the benefit of the High Command and State Secretary Tirpitz. SMS GOEBEN – OPERATIONAL CAREER SMS Goeben steams out of the III Ship Lock at Wilhelmshaven for the last time. The battlecruiser is bound for the Mediterranean, and a degree of fame unknown to other dreadnoughts of her era. On 2 July 1912, Kapitan zur See Philipp ordered Goeben’s pennant hoisted to the fore peak and commissioned the ship into the Kaiserliche Marine. Trials testing and evaluation continued for a few more weeks, but less rigorous, and more on an intermittent basis. The Fall fleet maneuvers began on 29 August, and SMS Goeben was assigned to lead the “ad-hoc” 2nd Scouting Group for the occasion. With the completion of maneuvers, having preformed well, she returned to “temporary status” for further evaluation – until “Weltpolitik” took the new cruiser in a totally unexpected direction. Montenegro, of all places, declared war on the Ottoman Empire on 8 October 1912. Within ten days, other members of the “Balkan League” (Serbia, Bulgaria, and Greece) had joined in – and the First Balkan War was well and truly underway. The Turks, ill-equipped for modern war, suffered a series of setbacks and the territorial gains of the Balkan League threatened the stability of the region. The British feared the Turks might be seriously weakened, thereby presenting the Russians with an opportunity to seize the Dardanelles and the Bosporus. The German Empire had close economic and military ties with the Ottomans – and Kaiser Wilhelm II had, for decades, championed a “Berlin to Baghdad Railway” (sort of a Teutonic version of the Orient Express). There was talk in European Capitals of an intervention by the major powers to “prop-up” Turkey and support the “status-quo”. Accordingly, an Imperial Cabinet Order of 1 November 1912, established a German “Mediterranean Squadron”. The squadron would include the current vessels operating in the Mediterranean – the station ship Loreley, the unprotected cruiser Geir, and the training cruisers Hertha and Vineta. SMS Goben was selected as flagship, and the light cruiser SMS Breslau would accompany her. After taking aboard coal and provisions, Konteradmiral Konrad Trummler hoisted his flag aboard Goeben. On the morning of 4 November 1912, Goeben and Breslau weighed anchor and steamed out of the Jade. Yet another squadron of the Imperial Navy steamed west as the shores of home disappeared astern. The seamen all dreamed of exotic climes and adventures ashore in foreign lands. But they had no idea of the real adventure ahead. SMS Goeben and her consort Breslau had a good run in fine weather and averaged about 21 knots from Wilhelmshaven to Malta, where they stopped briefly for coal. The little squadron dropped anchor off Constantinople on 15 November, and SMS Vineta (lying off Corfu) was ordered to join them. On November 18, Goeben landed 450 men with six machine guns, and Vineta put ashore 126 men and one machine gun, as part of an international intervention force. But an armistice was arranged on 3 December between Turkey and the Balkan League, so the landing parties returned to their ships. With the immediate crisis averted, SMS Goeben, Breslau, and Loreley remained off Constantinople, while SMS Hertha and Vineta were detached and ordered home to Germany. A peace conference was convened in London for a time, but after a coup d’etat within the “Sublime Porte” (Turkish Government), the rebellious “Young Turks” movement forced a resumption of hostilities in January 1913. A peace treaty was finally agreed on 30 May 1913. By 29 June, the Second Balkan War had broken out. This time it was Bulgaria against Serbia and Greece – a dispute over division of the Turkish spoils. With the political situation in such an uproar, it was impossible to disband the Mediterranean Squadron, and the Imperial Naval High Command sent out the light cruisers SMS Dresden and Strassburg as reinforcements. While foreign naval contingents remained in the area, they paid calls at various ports to remind the Balkan nations they were maintaining a watchful eye on the proceedings. Warships were also a useful tool in discouraging the larger European powers from trying to take advantage of a chaotic situation. The Second Balkan War was finally brought to a close with the Treaty of Bucharest, and the Treaty of Constantinople, both signed in September 1913. With peace finally restored, SMS Dresden and Strassburg were detached from the Mediterranean Squadron and arrived back in Kiel on 23 September. SMS Goeben returned to her regimen of port calls in the eastern Mediterranean. From her arrival in November 1912, to July 1914, the new battlecruiser, in a dazzling white paint scheme, recorded 88 port calls designed to impress foreign governments, possibly win friends for Germany, and signal to the other powers that Imperial Germany was now projecting her naval might into the Mediterranean. It was also a convenient way to remind your treaty allies (Italy and Austria) of their obligations. SMS Goeben also managed to put into the Austrian naval base at Pola from 21 August to 16 October for some much needed maintenance. On 23 October, near Trieste, Konteradmiral Wilhelm Souchon replaced Admiral Trummler and hoisted his flag on SMS Goeben. Souchon continued to show the flag all around the eastern Mediterranean. In the Spring of 1914, SMS Goeben and Breslau embarked on a five-week tour escorting the Imperial yacht Hohenzollern with the Kaiser and Kaiserin aboard. Goeben rendezvoused with the Imperial couple and their retinue at Venice and escorted the yacht to the Island of Corfu, where the Kaiser had a residence. On 9 May Goeben rendezvoused with SMS Konigsberg at Naples. The light cruiser was en route to German East Africa, and the battlecruiser escorted her as far as Alexandria, before turning north for Constantinople. While anchored in the Bosporus, the engineering section undertook a thorough examination of the boilers and steam turbines. During her 19 months in the Mediterranean, SMS Goeben had suffered no machinery failures, and the steam turbines were found to be in excellent condition. But the boilers were in a deplorable state. Maintenance and water tube replacement had been carried out on a regular schedule – replacing, over time, some 4,100 tubes. But even the facilities at Pola were not ideal for work on the battlecruiser, and it was decided to effect only “provisional” boiler repairs before sending her home to Germany. (Some 9,576 water-tubes were shipped to Pola for that purpose.) The Naval High Command then planned to transfer SMS Moltke (temporarily) to the Mediterranean in October 1914, so Goeben could return to Germany for a complete and thorough overhaul. After coaling ship, and taking on fresh stores and provisions, SMS Goeben and Breslau weighed and sailed for Haifa. The two cruisers lay at anchor off the Palestinian port on 28 June 1914, when news came through of the murder of the Austrian heir to the throne, Archduke Franz Ferdinand, and his wife – at Sarajevo, a small town in Bosnia…... NEXT TIME…… PURSUIT OF THE GOEBEN SIDEBAR The clipper ship Cutty Sark under full sail. Cutty Sark is, quite possibly, the most famous clipper ship ever built – rivaled only by her legendary competitor Thermopylae. Originally ordered for the Jock Willis Shipping Line, she was built on the River Leven, in Dumbarton, Scotland, and laid down in 1869. Cutty Sark was intended for the China tea trade, which required fast ships, and she was among the fastest – if not THE fastest. The era of the “China Clippers” went into the history books as the most romantic and inspiring days in the Age Of Sail. The sleek, graceful, ships with their towering masts and mountains of white, billowing canvas were truly thrilling sights to behold – even to the seasoned old mariners they left in their wakes as they raced across the southern seas. The famous clipper displaced 2,100 tons, with a hull length of 212 feet – her bowsprit added another 68 feet to the bow to carry a full array of head sails. Her 36-foot beam gave her a length-to-width ratio of just over 5-1, and her unusually sharp bow is credited with providing her speed. Her crew of approximately 35 men could hoist a spread of 32,000 square feet of canvas which, in a stiff wind, could drive her through the water at an amazing 17.5 knots. While Thermopylae once logged a higher speed, she only did it once. And in the famous 1872 race between the two ships, Cutty Sark had a hold full of tea chests (1,305 tons) and a 400 mile lead out of Shanghai when her rudder was carried away in a severe gale south of the Sunda Strait. It took six days to fashion and ship a new rudder -- and Cutty Sark sailed up the Thames seven days behind Thermopylae. A classic case of “Defeat snatched from the jaws of Victory”. The Tea Race of 1872. Shortly after departing Shanghai, Cutty Sark has already forged ahead and only Thermopylae’s spread of canvas can be seen over the horizon. Note the “stun’sls” (studding sails) set on Cutty Sark – they are “extra” sails set out on the far end of “Stun’sl booms” rigged to extend the length of the spars. You can see the “normal” sail rig in the center of the foremast – with the larger “stun’sls” set out to the far edges of the spars. These were designed to augment the ships normal sail rig and snare every possible breath of wind. The amount of canvas that could be spread on clipper ships was enormous – and necessary to attain their high speeds. As a matter of interest, “Cutty Sark” was the nickname of the witch Nannie Dee from Robert Burns’ 1791 poem “Tam O’ Shanter”. Nannie Dee was dressed in a “sark” -- Old Scots for a short linen Chemise – and since it was given to her as a child it was “cutty” – too short for her. So, in plain English, the most famous clipper ship in history was named “short chemise”. Cutty Sark went into service in 1870, the year after the Suez Canal opened to shipping. When the tea clippers arrived in China that year, they found a big increase in steam ships waiting for cargoes of tea. The Suez Canal eliminated many days sailing time around the Cape Of Good Hope and steamers were suddenly competitive – and in great demand. Steamers quickly proved successful and in 1871, 45 were built for the Far East trade in the River Clyde shipyards, alone. The China tea clippers gradually dwindled in number – replaced by the more modern steamers and their larger cargo capacity. Cutty Sark under “easy” sail – circa 1885. In 1883, Cutty Sark departed Newcastle, New South Wales, with her first cargo of 4,289 bales of Australian wool bound for London. The cargo was unloaded in London 83 days later – 25 days faster than her closest rival – and the swift clipper had found a new career in the wool trade. Between 1884 and 1893, Capt. Richard Woodget ran her along a more southerly route to take advantage of the stronger winds in the “Roaring Forties” and made the trip from New South Wales to London in as few as 73 days. Despite suffering storms, gales, and dodging icebergs, Cutty Sark was the fastest clipper in the wool trade for ten years running. A July 1889 entry in the log of the passenger steamer SS Brtitannia reports being overtaken during the night by a sailing ship doing 17 knots. When hailed from Britannia’s bridge, she answered back “Cutty Sark – out of New South Wales”. After 1895, the already legendary clipper was sold several times, suffered the occasional collision, was used as a Royal Navy auxiliary training vessel for a time, and in 1953, was eventually given to the Cutty Sark Preservation Society. In 1954 she was moved to a custom-built dry dock at Greenwich and her captain for this last voyage was the 83-year-old C.E. Irving, who had sailed the world three times in her before he was 17. The corner stone of the dry dock had been laid by the society’s Royal Patron – His Royal Highness, the late Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh – who was instrumental in her preservation. Cutty Sark was rebuilt and refurbished to her 1870’s rig and, at 161 years old, is a popular attraction for thousands of tourists each year. I’m proud to say I, too, have walked her decks. In this scene, Cutty Sark is being towed downriver to the open sea. Navigating a sailing ship up and down rivers or through narrow inlets was a difficult business and involved a great deal of “tacking” back and forth to catch the wind. The solution to the problem was the invention of the steam paddle tug. The tug Sophia will tow Cutty Sark far enough out to sea to give her room to maneuver once she catches the wind. On the starboard side off the clipper’s bow is a set of channel navigation lights (sometimes referred to as “leading lights”). Clipper, tug, and navigation lights are the brilliant work of @AP. Please note – both ship models are diagonal. In this view, you can clearly see Cutty Sark’s fine lines and clean hull form. Her original hull lines were taken from a French frigate that was sold off and turned into a British merchant vessel. Cutty Sark’s architect, Hercules Linton, improved the original French concept, smoothed the midships lines, and gave the clipper an unusually sharp bow – reducing the water resistance along the hull and enabling her remarkable speed. This view shows the amazing detail on this beautiful model – even the deck houses have the unique paneling found on the ship. Here you see the crew has gone aloft to shake-out the canvas so they will be able to catch a breeze as soon as the tug casts off the towline. This broadside view gives you a better look at the detail. The masts and spars are accurately detailed right down to the “cross-trees” – and the rigging is faithfully reproduced. You can even see crewmen on the decks hauling on the lines as they brace the spars around to catch a wind once the canvas has been loosed. Here we see Cutty Sark moored along the quay, preparing to take on cargo. This is Cutty Sark under full sail, with all sails set, and the “stun’sls” rigged out. This gives you a good look at her 70-foot bowsprit with the three massive “head-sheets” set. The head-sheets not only helped to catch the wind for propulsion, but if the rudder were damaged, they could also be used to steer the ship. You will notice, “AP” has also added the proper “heel” to the ship. All sailing vessels “heel” (or lean) to leeward due to the pressure of the wind on the masses of canvas. This is another view of Cutty Sark under sail. You can clearly see the “mountain” of canvas she was capable of sending aloft. The “stun’sls” are clearly visible on the outer edges of the spars and booms. In this broadside view, Cutty Sark is sailing with the wind “full and by” – mostly from astern. This shot also gives you another good look at the detailing on the model. In this stern view, you can see the ship’s masts “heeling” over to port – and again, from this angle, you can clearly see the “stun’sls” out on the end of the yards. Cutty Sark is lying close inshore, almost in the shallows, moored to two barrel buoys. She is off a small port too shallow to accommodate the clipper. The paddle tug Sophia (diagonal) is standing by to tow her out of the narrow estuary into the open sea. The tug Esmeralda has brought two lighters alongside – one with enough cargo to finish filling the forward hold – and the other with fresh provisions to feed the crew on their long voyage to New South Wales. Everything in the picture, with the exception of the landscape, is the wonderful work of “AP”. In this close-up, the top-men are aloft, checking the lashings on the sails and preparing them for imminent departure. The level of detail on “AP’s” models is truly magnificent – no detail is too small for attention – boxes in the lighters are individually crafted – though brightly painted, the paddle tugs are weathered and textured with immense care – even the barrel buoys are detailed and weathered. Three more views of the same scene – different angles. But don’t go away – there is more…… I think we have had enough history for the time being. Let’s take a look at some excellent modeling by “AP”. As history told us, SMS Goeben sailed right through her acceptance trials with exceptional performance by her steam turbines. But -- for our purposes, let’s assume there was an accident during the engine trials. In the process of switching from high-pressure to low-pressure turbines, a mistake was made, resulting in both starboard turbines being severely damaged. Goeben’s starboard turbines were damaged about 30 miles west of the Jade Light during high speed maneuvers. The ship’s engines were immediately stopped, salvage tugs came alongside, and the mechanics determined the extent of the damage. With both starboard engines down, the ship could have run back into Wilhelmshaven on the port turbines, but it was thought unwise. Hawsers were passed to two of the salvage tugs, and they made for Cuxhaven at a respectable 14 knots. Here we see two Langeoog Class salvage tugs towing ahead, with two Passat Class tugs ready on either beam, with hawsers to two more tugs astern, acting as a “brake” for the tow. They are moving Goeben through the Inner Basin toward the dry dock, while a Sophia Class paddle tug passes to port with a double tow. The battlecruiser, tugs, and the double tow are all the impeccable work of “AP”. Here we see the Langeoog salvage tugs have dropped their tow and the Passat Class tugs have taken over the operation. While the Kapitan eases the battlecruiser forward, the tugs will nudge the big ship along, using their powerful engines to change the ship’s direction. Goeben shared the same tandem rudder arrangement as Moltke, and the same defect – it was almost impossible to turn the ship at slow speeds. Tugs were an absolute necessity. Due to the unstable political situation in the Balkans, Kaiser Wilhelm II had decided to create a Mediterranean Squadron and deploy his newest battlecruiser as the flagship. Unfortunately, SMS Goeben’s deployment was delayed by the turbine accident. In the interest of speeding up the repairs, it was decided to remove the damaged turbines and return them to Blohm & Voss for repair, while installing a new set in the battlecruiser. SMS Goeben has been secured to mooring bollards around the basin, and to reduce the delay, it was decided to work without draining the dock. On the left side of the basin, rail lines bring in parts, supplies, and large pieces of equipment. The cranes are set up in two lines on either side of the basin. On the port side quay, 150-ton cranes unload trains and move the cargo/parts dockside, where the larger 250 ton-cranes pick them up and move them onto the ship as needed. On the starboard quayside, the inboard crane line has one 250-ton crane to do heavy-lift work over the ship. The outboard crane line consists of one 150-ton crane and one 250-ton crane. The smaller crane lifts light cargo – pipe bundles, boxes, crates, etc, etc, while the larger crane can lift heavy sections of armor plate, gun tubes, and even pre-assembled steam turbine sets. Note the port quay has only rail access and the starboard quay receives all equipment and cargo via ship or barge (usually only the large objects that cannot be transported any other way). The 150-ton cranes are from the “PEG” SNM Dry Dock Series, while the 250-ton cranes are by @AP. Another view of the dry dock area. Another view. On the far left are the Munitions Piers with an Italian Zara Class heavy cruiser taking on ammunition. The ship is not generic to our WW I time period, but I rather like the Zara’s and decided to squeeze them in. More about the cruiser and the Munitions Piers in another chapter. On the far right of the picture is a destroyer flotilla composed of a dozen Italian Leone Class ships. Zara and Leone were graciously provided by @Barroco Hispano. Anyone following the various chapters already knows how my landscape is “painted’ and which props I use. And anyone who knows the German North Sea Coast is well aware there are some fair-sized sand dunes, very few hills to speak of, and absolutely no mountains. But mountains may well pop-up in these pictures from time to time. I had been wanting to try my hand at mountain landscapes for some time – and watching the mastery of @The British Sausage encouraged me to go ahead. There are not a lot of mountains on the Cuxhaven map – just enough to satisfy myself that I could “pull it off”. My THANKS to “The British Sausage” for his inspiration and encouragement. This is a close-up of the barges delivering their loads. I have placed several sets of steam turbines in the shot so you can get a good look at them. There are ships in SC4 – but not very many. And there is a “boiler works” lot in the game. But very little attention has been paid to the propulsion plants of ships. “AP” has very skillfully created for us a set of high-pressure steam turbines (left on the barge) and low-pressure turbines (on the right). Each turbine has a cylindrical gearing unit on the end. A 250-ton crane is lifting a small auxiliary engine from the barge. It is to be installed up forward in the Capstan Flat to replace an engine with too little horsepower. This scene is “busy” and cluttered – many sailors and workmen running about in a maze of barrels, crates, cases, rope coils, hoppers, boxes, anchors, and winches. To the right of the steam turbines on the quay, you see a detail of sailors performing winch maintenance. Notice the detail on the back of the crane...”CUX 4 – 250t”. That is but one example of the degree of historical detail “AP” has researched and incorporated into his models. The barge, turbines, engine, gangway, rope coils, sailors, anchors (on the quay), cranes, Atlantic fenders, and winches – all by “AP”. The cargo barge on the right is by “PEG”. Here is a view of the head of the Dry Dock Basin. The basin pumping station is in the center (a “borrowed” Maxis pump house). To the left of that is a fenced area where old anchors are refurbished (30-ton crane by AP). To the right of the picture is a group of small lighters, loaded with boxes and barrels, tied-up at “mooring dolphins (by “AP”). The old barge crane on the left is also by “AP”. Here you see boilers (by AP) being unloaded on the port side quay. These are being readied for the next warship to enter the dock. Note the sailors on the flat cars preparing to hook up the crane hoist. To the left are other sailors inspecting auxiliary engines – two of them to replace under-powered steering motors. This scene shows one of many small landings found scattered around harbors and naval bases. Here you see small boats coming and going from the nearby destroyer flotillas -- odd bits of cargo and equipment laying around the landing – even a motor launch that brought senior engineers to hurry along Goeben’s repairs. The landing, small boats, motor launch, and the bulk of the odd bits on the landing are all by “AP”. Just to the right of the Dry Dock area, there is a Passat Class tug tied-up at “mooring dolphins” with an Asgard Class and Odin Class tug “nested” along the diagonal section of the seawall. (Note: more diagonal models!) The green warehouse and “balk” timber are from “Historic Harbors”. The large warehouse on the left is from a “PEG” seaport. The concrete areas are Paeng Grunge lots modified with a variety of props. The sailors, small boats, rope coils, Atlantic fenders, “dolphins”, and beautiful little tugs are by “AP”. And here we have the masterpiece of the whole scene – the repairs to Goeben’s turbines – in progress. The work gangs and cranes have already removed the steel plates of the Upper Deck, Battery Deck, and the layer of armor pate over the machinery, to create a sufficient opening down to the starboard engine room. The heavy locking bolts have been removed from the massive mountings securing the turbines to the “Hold Deck” in the bottom of the ship. And the ship’s boat boom has lifted out one of a series of steam transfer pipes running above the turbines. Only five sections remain to be removed. The way will then be clear for the 250-ton crane on the quay side to lift out the damaged high-pressure turbine. SMS Goeben had two steel decks above the engine rooms, while the height of the engine room extended down four more decks. In effect, in this shot, you can see six decks down – into the very bottom of the warship. You can see workmen on the inner deck levels – if you look carefully. (These are Hi-res pictures. If you download the image, you can enlarge it and see much more detail.) From this angle you can see the five remaining sections of steam transfer pipes that have to be removed. The workmen have been augmented by technicians specially sent down by Blohm & Voss to supervise the work. Three work gangs have been organized and will work round the clock. His Majesty, The Kaiser, is anxious that Goeben should be on her way to the Mediterranean. Admittedly – not a good angle, but there are many points of interest in the picture. You will notice there are sailors and workmen EVERYWHERE – bunches of them. I firmly believe the scenes we create in SC4 are more realistic when “peopled”. I go to great lengths to put figures in every conceivable location – doing things sailors and workmen would do. Dockyards are busy places – and work is done by gangs or “details” – not by individuals. Building a warship at the turn of the century might employ up to 3,000 men. “Fitting-out” a launched hull could require 2,000 men. And repairs were handled on an “as needed” basis. If the repairs were extensive – a large work force would be used. If the repairs were minor – perhaps only 50 men. My philosophy is to bring realism and life to the scenes I create by including the people. Show me a picture of a 1910 dockyard without workmen – and I’ll show you a dockyard on a Sunday morning, during peacetime, when Congress or the Parliament failed to appropriate sufficient funds! Now – I cannot possibly compliment @AP highly enough for this ground-breaking modeling effort. His first-hand knowledge of ships and the sea – and his tireless quest for authenticity has made it possible to create models representing history/ real-life at a level yet unseen in SC4. I can research it – and write about it – and explain it – but “AP” can bring it to life. I can create the game lots and make scenes like this. But my talent at “showcasing” this ship – pales in comparison to his “landmark” work. This has to be a record for SC4 – a “first”. If anyone deserves a “medal” – it is “AP”. He skillfully crafted this battlecruiser – which is a highly commendable achievement in itself. Then he disassembled it and created this view down into the bowels of the ship. It is – simply – MAGNIFICENT !! MANY THANKS – as always -- to @Barroco Hispano for his many beautiful warship models. SPECIAL THANKS to my collaborating partner, @AP, for his considerable talents, meticulous attention to detail, colorful imagination, and wonderful, wonderful, models. He is, indeed, “Mana from Heaven”. 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 underway -- circa 1912. IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: CUXHAVEN By: Dreadnought & AP Chapter 18: MOLTKE AT WAR “Grosse Kreuzer G” (SMS Moltke) after launch, in the fitting-out basin at Blohm & Voss Dockyards, Hamburg. This is an excellent view of the stern superfiring turrets. The main and secondary batteries have been fully mounted. On 7 April 1910, the finished hull of “Grosse Kreuzer G” was launched and duly christened “SMS Moltke”. The arduous process of “fitting-out” a warship of this size was extremely complicated and involved everything from finishing interior compartments, to fitting watertight doors, and literally building all the superstructure elements above decks. Blohm & Voss had a well deserved reputation for being faster than other German shipyards, but it still took 17 months to make her ready for sea. Manned by a dockyard crew, SMS Moltke steamed out of the Elbe on 10 September 1911 bound for Kaiser Werft Kiel. She traveled north along the Jutland coast, rounded “The Skagen”, and proceeded through the Kattegat and “Great Belt” -- arriving in the Kieler Hafen on 16 September. Kapitan zur See Ritter von Mann Edler von Tiechler assumed command on 30 September and, with a crew taken from the recently decommissioned SMS Roon, he commissioned the ship for sea trials. THE SEA TRIALS SMS Moltke on one of several “trial runs”. This trial cruise was deliberately chosen to see how the ship preformed in a moderate seaway. As you can see, the cruiser is proceeding “at speed” and is shipping some water over the bows – but is much improved over Von der Tann. This view shows the wider beam with the low bridge structure -- and the “fat” look of the squat funnels. The ever-present clouds of thick, black smoke were common to all warships of the period, but were even more pronounced when traveling at speed, or when the coal quality was poor. SMS Moltke’s sea trials were quite extensive and would not conclude until March 1912 – though slightly delayed by an engineering accident. For the most part, the trials were conducted in favorable weather, and the ship and engines preformed fully within their contracted parameters. On the measured six mile course near Neukrug, on two runs, Moltke achieved a highest average speed of 28 knots, though a highest possible speed of 28.4 knots was attained at one point. With both propellers on either the port or starboard side disabled (battle damage?), the ship was still capable of 22 knots. The designed engine output was 52,000shp, but an impressive 85,782shp was actually achieved – largely due to the new Blohm & Voss designed and manufactured boilers and steam turbines. During the six-hour, uninterrupted, “forced-draft test”, Moltke made a steady 27.25 knots. Coal consumption by the new engine plant was considerably lower then projected. The boilers preformed well during trials, despite repeated overloads, but during “dock inspection” in December, the port III boiler had 65 water tubes replaced, and the port VIII boiler received 140 new tubes. Towards the end of trials, in January 1912, “live” steam was accidentally fed into the starboard low-pressure turbine housing, resulting in broken stator vanes and turbine blades. It was necessary to suspend sea trials and put in for repairs. Steam turbines were somewhat similar to triple-expansion engines in their steam distribution. In reciprocating engines there were three or four cylinders driving a crank shaft. The first cylinder is small and “live” (high pressure) steam is fed directly into it. Once the steam has been used to drive the “cylinder stroke”, it is exhausted into the second cylinder (somewhat larger) so that it’s remaining energy can be used. The steam is then exhausted to the third cylinder (even larger) where the final energy is used. This system makes full use of the steam generated in the boilers, provides increased power to the engines, and economizes coal usage. With steam turbines, “live” high-pressure steam is fed directly into the high-pressure turbines (on the outer shafts). As the energy is exhausted turning the turbine blades, it diminishes in pressure and is no longer strong enough to be considered “live”. It is then fed to the low-pressure turbines turning the center shafts. This uses the same steam twice – but at lower pressure – so it will not damage the low-pressure turbines. A very economical arrangement that provides increased speed to the ship and uses less coal. But – accidents can happen. SMS Moltke, hove-to during sea trials in the Baltic. A Langeoog Class deep-sea salvage tug is alongside while the damaged low-pressure steam turbine is being inspected. Salvage tugs are always dispatched during sea trials as a precaution. One can tow a damaged vessel, while a second one can come alongside if “pumping” assistance is needed – the third tug is “back-up”. The torpedo boat G-101, capable of matching the battlecruiser’s speed, is a further precaution. G-101 is courtesy of Barroco Hispano. Moltke and the exquisite Langeoog salvage tugs are the work of "AP". Moltke maneuvered well underway – quick to answer her helm, with a reasonable turning circle. Her turbines reacted quickly to revolution commands and there was no vibration at maximum speeds. Unfortunately, due to the tandem rudder arrangement, she was difficult to steer at low speeds and almost impossible to turn. This was a serious problem in confined waters, like harbors or the Wilhelm I Canal. The ship had a gentle pitching motion, mostly due to her longer hull. She rolled very little and shipped little water over the bow. Strangely enough, the placement of the searchlight platforms was a problem. It was found the aft searchlights (grouped around the mainmast) could not be used if the main guns were firing – the blast over-pressure endangered the operators. And the forward searchlight platform was frequently engulfed in thick clouds of funnel smoke, making the position untenable. A tall funnel cap was later fitted to the forward funnel to solve this problem. SMS Moltke’s 11-inch rifles proved difficult during firing tests on the Baltic Sea gunnery ranges. The SK-L/50 was a newly developed gun and was bound to have “teething troubles”. There were several misfires, which had to be handled with extreme caution, but the most alarming problem occurred in the recoil system. When heavy guns are fired, they have a system of hydraulic buffers that absorb the force of the backward recoil, then ease the gun back into firing position. If there is some sort of problem with the hydraulic buffers (possibly low fluid levels), when the gun is fired, it will recoil inboard and “hang up” in that position. The gun does not automatically return to firing position and is said to be “out of battery”. The gun is, in effect, out of action. There may be a problem with the equipment, or it could simply be a matter of adjusting the hydraulic fluid levels, then manually pumping pressure into the buffer system to return the gun to battery position. While the solution to the problem is simple, the gun tube weighs 41 tons, and returning it to battery position becomes a tedious and Herculean task. (The very same problem can occur in Main Battle Tanks – and is extremely annoying under battle conditions.) Additional gun trials were recommended – but the problem did not repeat itself. In early November 1911, Moltke briefly joined the Hochseeflotte cruiser force for a training cruise in the Kattegat and the opportunity to evaluate the new cruiser in a tactical environment. Unfortunately, an unusually strong storm front rolled in and forced Moltke to seek safe anchorage off Uddevalla, Sweden for three days. The remaining trials were moved to Danziger Bucht (Danzig Bay) and concluded on 1 April 1912. SMS MOLTKE – OPERATIONAL CAREER SMS Moltke lying at anchor in Hampton Roads off Norfolk, Virginia – circa 1912. As was customary, the new battlecruiser was immediately chosen to represent Germany on an overseas port call designed to impress a foreign nation with Germany’s naval might. In mid-1911, a U.S. Navy squadron had paid a formal visit to Kiel, and the Kaiser was anxious to repay the courtesy. In April 1912, a cruiser division comprising SMS Moltke and the light cruiser Stettin were placed under the command of Konteradmiral von Rebeur-Paschwitz. The SMS Bremen, already on the East American Station, would rendezvous with them when they reached American waters. On 11 May 1912, the two cruisers departed Kiel, made a seven-day lay-over at the Portuguese island of Ponta Delgado, in the Azores, and on 30 May rendezvoused with SMS Bremen some 15 miles off Cape Henry, near Norfolk, Virginia. The three ships dropped anchor in Lynnhaven Roads (just east of Norfolk) and remained there for three days – tidying the ships for the visits and parties to come, and giving Moltke a fresh paint job. (One must always “dress to impress”.) The small squadron arrived in Hampton Roads at 09:30 on 3 June. Here you see USS North Dakota (left) and USS South Carolina (right) moored at piers in the Old Basin. North Dakota was assigned to the I Battle Division of the US Atlantic Fleet, and South Carolina belonged to the II Battle Division. The piers were custom-built using “WMP” Sea Walls and an old brick texture from the Lot Editor. I thought the brick texture would give them an “old-fashioned” look – rather than a modern concrete texture. The long row-warehouses are borrowed from Mattb325’s “Austral-Asian Shipping Co.” and the dock cranes are from the “PEG” SNM Dry Dock lot. The sailing ships at “mooring dolphins” out in the harbor are (front) the “barque” Maria, out of Bremen, and the clipper Cutty Sark. The mooring arrangements were inspired from photos of old Hamburg harbor at the turn of the century. The beautiful battleships are courtesy of @Barroco Hispano. The sailors on the docks, mooring dolphins, and the amazing sailing ships are intricately crafted by @AP. USS South Carolina, name ship of her class - circa 1912. Her sister-ship USS Michigan was the first dreadnought battleship commissioned into the US Navy in 1910: 16,000 tons – 18.5 knots – 8x12-inch guns – 22x3-inch guns – 2x21-inch torpedo tubes – belt armor 12 inches. Note the “lattice” or “cage masts”. She was a compact and efficient vessel – slow of speed – but carrying a solid foot of Bethlehem Steel on her armor belt. You can see the leading edge of the belt just below “A” turret. Two “Battle Divisions” of the U.S. Atlantic Fleet rode at anchor in Hampton Roads: I Division, with USS Florida, Delaware, North Dakota, and Utah; and II Division, with USS Louisiana, Kansas, New Hampshire, and South Carolina. After von Rebeur-Paschwitz exchanged “gun salutes” and visits with the US Admirals, the Presidential yacht Mayflower arrived with President William Howard Taft aboard. All ships fired a 21-gun salute (proper protocol for a Head of State), and Mayflower then steamed along the lines of ships with their crews “manning the rail”. The Presidential yacht then steamed back and anchored close aboard SMS Moltke. Von Rebeur-Paschwitz and the German captains went aboard Mayflower to join their opposite numbers and pay their respects to the President. Taft then made a short visit and inspection of SMS Moltke. Around 16:00, the President went back aboard Mayflower, she once again passed down the rows of ships, and headed north toward the Potomac River and Washington, D.C. The German squadron was received with all due ceremony, and were treated with exceptional kindness and hospitality – receiving many visits from US Navy Officers, and numerous dinner and dance invitations from the prominent citizens of Norfolk and Richmond. This is a shot of Moltke’s starboard quarter gangway with US Navy officers in “full dress” attire coming aboard with the Presidential Party. Note the round badge on the small boat’s bow – that is the Presidential Seal. Moltke’s crew has “manned the side” and President Taft is being “piped aboard”. On the afternoon of 8 June, the German squadron steamed north for New York, escorted by the I Division of the Atlantic Fleet. German-speaking US Navy signalmen were assigned to the German ships to facilitate communications. Around 11:00 on 9 June 1912, the two squadrons swept into New York harbor and the German warships anchored in the Hudson River, between 82nd to 76th Streets. For the next five days, crowds of innumerable size lined the Hudson shore, both day and night, to get a glimpse of the imposing cruiser. Guests were welcomed aboard the three ships from fleets of sightseeing boats, and German officers were guests at parties and banquets hosted by the rich and famous of the largest city in America. Moltke also spent two of those days in less glamorous pursuits – taking aboard 2,967 tons of good, anthracite coal from Pennsylvania. USS North Dakota – Delaware Class -- circa 1912: 20,380 tons – 21 knots – 10x12-inch guns – 14x5-inch guns – 2x21-inch torpedo tubes – belt armor 11 inches. The Delaware Class ships, though commissioned in the same year as South Carolina, were “second generation” dreadnoughts -- and a considerable improvement. The South Carolina Class had taken a long time in the planning stages, and even more during construction – largely due to Congressional reluctance to appropriate sufficient funds to finish the ships. By the time they were finally commissioned, the Delawares were ready to join them. For some reason, the US Congress did not comprehend the value of a modern fleet – until WW II changed all that. This finely detailed model, demonstrates many of the unique design features common to the “US style” of dreadnought design. The US Navy commonly equipped their capital ships with mine-clearing equipment – the paravane kites can be seen below “B” turret. The “cage masts” are considerably more elaborate than her predecessors, and the superstructure is tightly grouped amidships to make room for the guns. The US Navy, during this period, experimented extensively with main battery turret placement and favored superfiring configurations whenever possible. But the need to keep up with the Royal Navy caused a rash of battleships with five, or even six, main battery turrets. SMS Moltke lying at anchor in the Hudson River off Manhattan. On 13 June, the two squadrons sailed with the flood tide. Approaching the Ambrose Channel lightship, Moltke dropped her harbor pilot, the American battleships signaled “farewell”, and they swung south toward Hampton Roads. SMS Bremen was detached to Baltimore, to return to her station duties, and SMS Stettin set course for Vigo, Spain – by way of Brazil and the Azores. (She did not have the range to make a direct Atlantic crossing.) Moltke plotted a course along the old winter steamer route to Europe and made fast in the Kieler Hafen on 25 June 1912. On 30 June 1912, SMS Moltke was tasked with escorting Kaiser Wilhelm II aboard the Hohenzollern for a meeting with the Russian Tsar. The ships departed Kiel and arrived in Neufahrwasser the following day. Two days later, the little squadron put to sea again, and arrived in Balticport (modern day Paldiski) on 4 July. Kaiser Wilhelm II and Tsar Nicholas II met over a period of two days, then Moltke escorted the Royal yacht back to Kiel, arriving on 8 July. On 9 July, SMS Moltke was assigned to the 1st Scouting Group of the Hochseeflotte, and Vizeadmiral Gustav Bachmann raised his flag aboard her. At this time, the rest of the heavy units of the scouting group consisted of the battlecruiser SMS Von der Tann and the armored cruiser SMS Yorck (flying Konteradmiral Hipper’s flag). The light cruisers were SMS Mainz, Kolberg, Dresden, Berlin, Coln, and Stettin. On 10 August, Moltke departed Kiel for Wilhelmshaven (via the Skagen) and arrived on the 25th. After taking on coal and stores, she departed on 2 September with the Hochseeflotte on the annual autumn maneuvers – returning on the 19th. After a “port call” at Malmo, Sweden, Moltke went into the Wilhelmshaven Dockyards from December 1912 – February 1913. In late February, Moltke participated in fleet exercises held in the North Sea and the Kattegat – and again from 5 thru 27 May 1913. The 1913 summer cruise again went to Norwegian waters from 15 July – 10 August. Soon after, Konteradmiral Hipper was promoted to command of Scouting Forces Hochseeflotte and raised his flag aboard Moltke in October. Fleet exercises in the Baltic Sea followed in November and again in February 1914. Fleet maneuvers were held in March – April, and in May Konteradmiral Hipper shifted his flag to the new battlecruiser SMS Seydlitz. Around this time, serious consideration was given to the idea of sending SMS Moltke to the Far East as a replacement for the armored cruiser Scharnhorst. But Moltke’s “twin” – SMS Goeben – had been stationed in the Mediterranean for almost two years and needed to return to Germany for a thorough overhaul. Before any decision could be made, a “public relations event” took precedence. "KIEL WEEK” REGATTA – 1914 In mid-June 1914, virtually the entire Hochseeflotte assembled in the Kieler Hafen for the annual festivities of the “Kiel Week” yachting regatta. The regatta had been well known on the yacht racing circuit since 1882, and Kaiser Wilhelm II first attended the event in 1889. Wilhelm was envious of his “Uncle Bertie”, Edward Prince Of Wales, and his sponsorship of the “Cowes Week Yachting Regatta”. Wilhelm even bought his own racing yacht, “Meteor” in 1891 and began competing at Cowes against Edward’s yacht, Britannia, in 1892. After losing four straight years, Wilhelm turned Meteor over to the Kaiserliche Marine and – more or less – took over sponsorship of “Kiel Week”. (If you can’t beat ‘em under sail – out-spend them with a shamefully ostentatious party.) The German Fleet acted as host during the week and provided support – not to mention competitors – for the scheduled events. No expense was spared in putting on a “good show”. The Kaiser prevailed upon his friend Albert Ballin, Director of the Hamburg-America Steamship Line to provide 1st Class accommodation and services for visiting dignitaries and their wives, as well as the wives of serving admirals and captains – including those of foreign guests. The trans-Atlantic passenger steamer SS Viktoria Luise was customarily berthed in Kiel for the week, with gourmet chefs and hand-picked stewards to provide every comfort. The ship would become the focal point of high society once all the politicians, officers, and “uber-rich” had arrived. On 23 June 1914, the Guests Of Honor arrived – Vice-Admiral Sir George Warrender, 7th Baronet, commanding four dreadnoughts of the 1st Division, 2nd Battle Squadron, British Home Fleet. (The fleet was not renamed “The Grand Fleet” until after the war began.) The four big dreadnoughts steamed up the Kieler Hafen between lines of German warships anchored along either shoreline. The British and German saluting guns thundered as a pilot boat led them to their assigned berths. While the British battleships came to anchor off Kitzeburg Head, packed crowds lined the shore and invited guests sailed alongside in steamers chartered for the occasion. All in all, it was quite an occasion – much pomp and flash – and Imperial showmanship laid on with a trowel. Once the squadron was secured at anchor, Warrender – accompanied by a suitably large number of captains and staff officers – loaded into the ship’s steam launches (painted and polished for the occasion) and paid his respects to Vizeadmiral von Ingenohl (C.-in-C. Hochseeflotte) aboard his flagship, SMS Friedrich der Grosse. While the British officers were settling down to a lavish luncheon, the Admiral’s wife and those of the captains and senior staff were ferried over to Viktoria Luise for an equally lavish luncheon. Afterwards, they were allowed time to settle into their cabins. Later in the evening, there would be an opening night “gala” aboard the liner, complete with a seven course dinner accompanied by a small string ensemble, followed by a larger orchestra and dancing in the ship’s ballroom. (In those days, a diplomatic function could not be considered serious unless choreographed to the lilting strains of Strauss.) A “cold supper” would be served around midnight, after which, the guests would retire for the night. And this was just the beginning. Meanwhile, the British enlisted men were hosted by the off-duty German crews in one of the Guild Halls ashore. The senior German “Non-Com” was a Bavarian – and it was done in fine “October-fest” style. The next day kicked-off a hectic round of sports games and social events. The British and German crews squared off against one another in -- the whale boat rowing marathon – the twelve-man-cutter speed event – the steam launch “point-to-point” event – and the usual shore games of “tug-of-war” and “football” (the British claimed that trophy). British ratings not involved or attending the events were taken by special trains to Hamburg and Berlin to see the sights and enjoy whatever pleasures were on offer. The officer’s evenings were spent over sumptuous dinners, followed by brandy and cigars, with “shop-talk” between the two navies. Usually, when the talk became a bit lively – the gentlemen adjourned to the dance floor and rejoined the ladies. The days were spent in exchanging courtesy calls between the various ships – and even tours were arranged – with some difficulty. Admiral von Ingenohl was reluctant to engage in exchange tours, because the Admiralstab had decided the design and construction of their ships was to be “top secret”. Consequently, the only ships the British were allowed to tour were the pre-dreadnoughts of the Deutschland Class. The British, on the other hand, were more than happy to show their German hosts around their ships. They figured guns and armor were pretty much the same on both sides of the North Sea – but any fire control equipment was covered by tarps and kept “off limits”. Lord Brassey (editor of “Brassey’s Naval Annual”) arrived in Kiel on his own yacht – and with his nose for information, supposedly, managed to get “lost” in the dockyard. He was eventually located wandering about the “secret” submarine slipways. The ostentatious show of ceremony reached its high point with the overly dramatic arrival of the Kaiser on 26 June. Saluting guns up and down the line of anchored dreadnoughts roared and spat huge clouds of white smoke as the Royal yacht Hohenzollern steamed up the Kieler Hafen. On a platform, high atop the bridge, Wilhelm stood resplendent in the uniform of his self-styled-title – “Admiral Of The Atlantic”. While wild cheers rose from the shore-side throngs, Hohenzollern altered course and made for the Holtenau Locks of the newly widened and deepened Kaiser Wilhelm I Canal. The canal locks were decked-out in flags and bunting -- with huge, red silk ribbons stretched across the entrance. These simple canal locks were to provide the dramatic highlight to the week’s entertainment. The cheers rose to a thunderous crescendo as Hohenzollern’s sleek bow sliced through the ribbons – officially opening the militarily strategic canal for business. The dreadnought battleships and battlecruisers of the Hochseeflotte could now pass safely between Kiel and Wilhelmshaven in just 12 hours. On 27 June, Kaiser Wilhelm and his retinue were received aboard HMS King George V for a formal luncheon, followed by cigars and brandy. Predictably, the table conversation on the British side was polite and smoothly noncommittal, while Wilhelm was overly solicitous, a bit pompous, and monopolized the German end of the talk. After the brandy and cigars ritual, His Majesty was given a complete tour of Warrender’s flagship – which pleased him no end. During the afternoon on 28 June, news arrived of the assassination of Franz Ferdinand of Austria, and his wife. The Archduke had been a friend of the British ambassador to Germany, Edward Goshen, who was quartered aboard HMS King George V. A gathering of guests were enjoying “tea” in the Admiral’s quarters, one of whom was Leutnant von Hase – later, Derfflinger’s Chief Gunnery Officer. A discussion ensued with Warrender warning that the news from Sarajevo might well draw many European countries into a war. The British immediately canceled their social engagements, though they would continue to participate in the scheduled regatta events. Early on the morning of 29 June, the Kaiser, who had been a close friend of the late Archduke, departed for Berlin aboard the Royal train. The events of the day continued in a somewhat somber tone, with Warrender providing lunch for the German Admirals aboard the flagship. After lunch, the Germans were offered a tour of the dreadnought and a demonstration of the main battery guns in a “dry-fire” exercise. Later that day, the Admiral attended a party given by the British sailors to return the compliment of the welcome they had earlier received. Warrender was welcomed with thunderous clapping and stomping of feet, and promptly jumped upon a table to give a spontaneous speech about friendship between their two nations. Three cheers were given for the Imperial Navy and Konteradmiral Mauve also jumped on a table and called for three cheers for the Royal Navy. The room again thundered with cheers and stamping approval. Later that evening, Admiral and Mrs. Warrender attended the official Imperial Yacht Club dinner, hosted – in the Kaiser’s absence – by his brother, HRH Prince Heinrich of Prussia. On 31 June, the British 2nd Battle Squadron steamed out of the Kieler Hafen bound for Portsmouth and mid-summer maneuvers. Admiral Warrender’s parting sentiment flew from the flagship’s signal halyards…”Friends in the past – friends forever.” As tensions mounted in Europe, First Lord of the Admiralty, Winston Churchill, and First Sea Lord, Admiral Prince Louis of Battenburg, went ahead with plans for Royal Navy fleet exercises that had been planned back in October 1913. Rather than huge and costly “combined fleet” maneuvers in the Atlantic, Churchill and Battenburg opted for a much less expensive “test mobilization” of the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd Fleets, to see if they could be brought to a “war footing” in the required time frame. The 3rd Fleet, in particular, was in an “inactive reserve” status with only minimum crews aboard and would have to be brought to full strength on short notice (RNR – Royal Navy Reservists). Just a few days after Warrender’s battleship division returned from Kiel and dropped anchor in the Solent, the orders went out and the fleets began assembling. The mobilization plans worked as smoothly as a railway timetable and culminated with a massive Fleet Review at Spithead on 17--18 July 1914. The historic waters of the broad Solent were very nearly covered with warships anchored in long gray lines off Spithead. Churchill, an “Imperialist” in every sense of the word, was thrilled by the vision of “Imperial might” riding at anchor…...”it was, incomparably, the greatest assemblage of naval power ever witnessed in the history of the world”. It was also a warning – duly noted by every attending ambassador and naval attache of every nation in the world. The “test-mobilization” could not have come at a more opportune moment. With war hanging over the Continent like a dark cloud, Britain’s fleets had been quickly and efficiently concentrated – signaling her readiness to respond to whatever might happen. His majesty, the King Emperor, George V, formally reviewed the fleet on 17 July aboard the Royal yacht, and toured several of the most modern dreadnoughts on 18 July. It was two solid days of pomp, ceremony, and Imperial pageantry – portrayed as no nation other than Britain could. It was an endless round of luncheons, dinners, and parties, while every evening, the Solent was ablaze with fireworks, followed by light displays from the massed searchlights of the battle fleets. On 19 July, the King boarded the Royal yacht, Victoria & Albert, took up his position at the head of his fleet, and led the squadrons into the English Channel for a brief round of exercises. Some 400 warships – 53 battleships – 20 of them modern dreadnoughts with 9 modern battlecruisers heading the procession -- boldly proclaimed that Britannia, in fact, ruled the waves. In a way, it was fittingly grand – for its likes would never be seen again – before or after “the lights went out all over Europe”. Across the North Sea, Moltke and the Hochseeflotte departed on 13 July for the 1914 summer cruise to Norway. But the cruise was broken off prematurely with more ominous news from Austria (Germany’s treaty ally). The Austrians delivered a stern ultimatum to Serbia on 23 July, which was so insolent the Austrians were sure it would be rejected – which it was. Austria severed diplomatic ties with Serbia on 25 July and began mobilizing their army – and the Russians were already making noises about defending Serbia. On 27 July The Hochseeflotte was ordered to return to its bases and assume an “increased state of readiness”. When the Royal navy returned to the Solent after exercises, it was planned to disperse the fleet back to their duty stations. But news of Austria severing diplomatic relations set off alarm bells in the Admiralty. The First Sea Lord (Prince Louis of Battenburg) took the personal initiative to keep the fleet concentrated while the situation on the Continent was in flux. The “reservists” eagerly waiting to go home – would remain on their ships for the foreseeable future. History has proven he made the right decision. During the afternoon of 29 July, the 1st Battle Fleet was ordered to sea. That night, the long columns of ships – all lights darkened – passed swiftly and silently northward through the Straits of Dover. By 31 July, the various squadrons were at their battle stations in Rosyth, Cromarty, and Scapa Flow. (Come September, they would be re-designated “The Grand Fleet”.) It was just over four weeks since Warrender’s parting signal of friendship at Kiel – and virtually all of Europe was at each other’s throats. MOLTKE GOES TO WAR SMS Moltke’s forward main battery turret – circa 1914. Note the massive girth of the 11 inch gun tubes. On 2 August 1914, the Kaiserliche Marine was ordered to mobilize for war, and on 3 August Germany went to war with France, while Britain declared war on 4 August. SMS Moltke spent several weeks lying at anchor either in Wilhelmshaven Roads, Wilhelmshaven harbor, or Schillig Roads on picket duty. She sortied in support of light forces on 28 August 1914 during the First battle Of Heligoland Bight, but saw no action. (See Chapter 16 for details of sortie.) SMS Moltke spent a good deal of time in and out of the Wilhelmshaven Dockyard in September and October – mostly for extensive boiler tube replacement. But on 2 November 1914, she weighed anchor and sailed with the battlecruisers and light cruisers of the 1st Scouting Group for the Great Yarmouth Raid. (See Chapter 11 for details of the raid.) At 04:00 on 15 December 1914, SMS Moltke and the rest of 1st Scouting Group weighed anchor and quit the Jade, steering north at 15 knots in the chill darkness of the winter night. The battlecruisers were about to undertake the Scarborough, Whitby, and Hartlepool Raid. (See Chapter 12 for details.) After a three-day dockyard spell, repairing damage from a shell hit in the recent raid, SMS Moltke alternated between picket duty in Schillig Roads, anchoring in Wilhelmshaven Roads, and trips in and out of the dockyard. Oddly enough, capital ships give the impression of being solid and indestructible – just giant, steel monoliths -- impervious to anything. But no matter how thick their armor might be, they were, underneath the armor, complicated – and in some ways – delicate machines. If a battlecruiser was engaged in high-speed maneuvering for any length of time – a drawn-out battle, a running gun-battle, or a chase -- her machinery would need attention and her turret hydraulic systems would require maintenance. Boiler water-tube replacement was a constant problem. High-speed maneuvering demanded frequent boiler pressure overloading which progressively weakened the tubes and caused leaks and ruptures – reducing the ship’s speed. Considering there could be anywhere from eighteen to forty boilers in a capital ship – and each boiler had several hundred tubes – it was little wonder they spent so much time in the dockyards. The year 1915 opened with continued activity from the battlecruisers of 1st Scouting Group. At 17:45 on 23 January, they put to sea to lay an ambush for British light forces at Dogger Bank. To their surprise, the Imperial battlecruisers were, themselves, ambushed at The Battle Of Dogger Bank. (See Chapter 13 for details.) SMS Moltke dropped anchor in Schillig Roads on the evening of January 24th, the only battlecruiser to remain unscathed in the battle. On the 26th, she weighed anchor and moved to Wilhelmshaven Roads to coal ship and replenish ammunition. At the same time, a repair party was brought aboard to see to her heavy artillery. The guns had functioned well enough during the battle, but there were signs of trouble and their recoil had been slow at times. On the 28th, Moltke moved to the repair basin in the dockyard where heavy lift cranes could continue work on the big rifles. Moltke tied-up at the repair docks. A 150-ton crane barge is being positioned abreast the battlecruiser’s “E” turret in preparation for removing the heavy armored roof so mechanics can more easily remove the outboard gun tube for repairs on the recoil system. A Langeoog Class salvage tug stands by, along with an old Goliath Steam tug that was pressed into service to assist. The small steam tugs handling the barge are by “WolfZe”. Goliath is by Barroco Hispano. The steam crane is from the “PEG” SNM Dry Dock lot, and the props on the barge are mostly by “Historic Harbors”. The barge, Moltke, and Langeoog are the wonderful work of “AP”. On 3 February Moltke moved to the Long Quay and tied up behind SMS Seydlitz. The next day the Kaiser paid a visit, and the following day, the Swedish Naval Attache came aboard to pay a call. Moltke took up picket duty in Schillig Roads on 8 February, returning to the Wilhelmshaven dockyard on the 14th to have one of the heavy caliber rifles in “B” turret changed out. The battlecruiser went in and out of dockyard hands for a lengthy overhaul lasting from 24 February to 12 March. Shortly thereafter, Moltke, Derfflinger, and Von der Tann took part in the first “fleet advance” undertaken by the new “Flottenchef” Admiral von Pohl. On 4 April 1915, 1st Scouting Group shifted to the Baltic Sea for a week of training. On 17 April Moltke weighed anchor and sortied in support of a minelaying operation, and sailed yet again on the 21st in the third “fleet advance”. (A “fleet advance” was similar to the British “sweep” of a sea area, and was usually conducted in the southern half of the North Sea.) On 6 May 1915, Moltke again entered the dockyard and work began on the installation of RW (direction indicator) fire control equipment – a lengthy process interrupted by a sortie to cover a minelaying operation on Dogger Bank, and another sortie to escort the auxiliary cruiser Meteor to sea on a commerce raiding mission. While returning to port, north of Tercshelling, the British submarine E-6 fired a torpedo at Moltke from an estimated range of 800 yards – and missed. During early June, dockyard work continued on the RW installation as well as the addition of supplemental oil-firing for the boilers. In late June, Moltke, Seydlitz, and Von der Tann moved to the Baltic gunnery ranges for sub-caliber shooting, main battery shooting, torpedo firing, searchlight training, squadron evolutions, and combat tactics training with two torpedo boat flotillas. The flotillas took turns defending and attacking the battlecruiser line and gave the big ships some experience of being in the middle of a skirmish. The 1st Scouting Group returned to Wilhelmshaven Roadsted on 2 July. Moltke again went into the dockyard for additional RW work on “D” turret and to have a bearing on the port low-pressure turbine reworked. "Cutting the line”. This is a peacetime exercise carried out with the dreadnought battleships of the I Battle Squadron and what appears to be “S” Class torpedo boats of VII Flotilla. During battle, the torpedo boats would normally be stationed on the “disengaged” side of the battle line – strung out along the line to screen the flank of the battleships. In order to repel an attack by enemy destroyers, the little boats would have to cross over to the “engaged” side of the fleet. In line-ahead battle formation, there would be a 300 yard gap between battleships, and the quickest way for the torpedo boats to get at the enemy would be to slip through those gaps – “cutting the line”. The fast and agile little boats would go to “full ahead”, select the nearest gap between battleships, and plunge ahead – as depicted in the illustration. It looks quite daring, and could be extremely dangerous – but it was a standard tactic of the Hochseeflotte and was practiced regularly. Skill, courage, and boldness could be demonstrated in even the most common tasks. Moltke, Seydlitz, and Von der Tann returned to the Kieler Hafen on 3 August in preparation to support the Riga Gulf Campaign. Their task was to take up a position west of Moon Sound Inlet and engage the Russian fleet should they appear. It should be noted Hipper had every confidence the three battlecruisers of 1st Scouting Group – boldly handled -- could engage and either defeat, or chase away, four Gangut Class Russian dreadnought battleships armed with 12-inch guns. At 06:40 on 6 August, the 1st Scouting Group slipped their moorings and set course for the northern Baltic. Arriving on the 8th, the squadron took up position and began patrolling in a zigzag pattern. Around midnight, the weather turned bad with heavy rain and lightning and did not clear until 10:00 on the 9th. The 1st Scouting Group remained on station, and Moltke supported SMS Kolberg and Von der Tann during a bombardment of Uto Island on 10 August. Later that day, Moltke and Seydlitz were detached to Putziger Wiek (Danzig Bay) to coal ship, and remained there four days. Around 03:00 on 15 August, the two battlecruisers weighed anchor and proceeded to sea with an anti-submarine screen provided by six torpedo boars of the V Flotilla. Steering a zigzag course, they returned to their patrol position off Moon Sound – the only incidents were submarine sightings by Seydlitz on 16 and 17 August. On 19 August around 07:20, in hazy weather, Seydlitz suddenly sounded her siren and hoisted the signal for “submerged submarine in sight”. Traveling at 15 knots, Moltke immediately put her helm hard to port, away from the suspected submarine (HMS E-1), but -- in a matter of seconds – a torpedo struck her in the starboard bow. A column of water shot 75 feet into the air, drenching the forecastle deck, with parts of the detonated torpedo landing aboard. The ship’s engines were immediately stopped to limit flooding, but when there was no list, and the ship was not “down by the bow” – Kapitan zur See Levetzow returned to 15 knots. At 08:00, Vizeadmiral Hipper put the squadron on course for Pitziger Wiek, and sent a wireless requesting a shipwright, diving barge, divers, and a large “leak mat” be placed on stand-by for 05:00 the following morning. SMS Moltke at anchor in Pitziger Wiek after being torpedoed by the British submarine E-1. The repair ship Vestal has come alongside to port, while a Langeoog Class salvage tug is lashed to starboard. Her high capacity pumps will help keep the bow compartments dry while temporary repairs are carried out. The three tugs will escort the battlecruiser back to Kiel for permanent repairs. Admiral Hipper, aboard SMS Seydlitz, is coaling ship while waiting for more information on Moltke’s condition. Everything in the picture – battlecruisers, repair vessel, salvage tugs, lighters, harbor tugs, and small boats – are the superb work of @AP. Note the diagonal salvage tug at left. On the morning of the 20th, at 04:16, the battlecruisers came to anchor in Putziger Wiek and began coaling while the divers went over Moltke’s side. They found a 45 square foot hole abreast the bow torpedo flat. Three trim cells, the bow torpedo flat, carpenter’s store, inflammable paint locker, and part of the double bottom were flooded – about 435 tons of water. (Moltke’s extensive internal sub-division had limited the flooding.) Hipper determined she could be of no further use to the Riga Gulf Operation, so Moltke weighed anchor and departed for the Blohm & Voss dockyards in Hamburg – arriving on 23 August – and moving into the floating dock. As a matter of interest, the torpedo blast caused two compressed air flasks in the torpedo flat to burst, and ripped apart the warheads of three torpedoes stored in the flat – but there were no internal explosions. Repairs took 28 days and Moltke returned to Wilhelmshaven Roads on 21 September 1915. Repair ships can be found in the “fleet trains” of all large navies, and the Imperial Navy was no exception. But we could find no “visual” information on the fleet auxiliary vessels of the Kaiserliche Marine – so we selected the USS Vestal for our story. Vestal was commissioned into the US Navy in 1908 as a collier – one of several ships built by the government to avoid relying on foreign flag colliers in time of war. She was converted to a repair ship in 1912. At 12,585 tons and 465 feet in length, she had a top speed of 16 knots – unusually fast for a fleet auxiliary vessel. She was armed with four 3-inch guns – mostly for anti-submarine defense. We chose Vestal because of her extremely clean lines, streamlined hull, and an uncluttered silhouette. Numerous hatch covers are visible with glass deadlights set in them to allow sunlight below decks where many repair parts are machined and tooled. It should be mentioned that USS Vestal was moored alongside USS Arizona on that fateful Sunday morning in December 1941. Her heroic crew fought to save their ship from the massive fires spreading from the battleship, while rescuing many crewmen from the burning hulk. Vestal is scratch-built by “AP’ based on the original builder’s drawings. Moltke went north on 23 October, in a “fleet advance” designed to disrupt merchant shipping bound for Britain from the Skagerrak. The weather, however, turned nasty overnight (a force 6 gale), and prevented any sort of airship reconnaissance, so the mission was aborted. The remainder of 1915 was spent in a variety of mundane tasks – picket duty, dockyard time, training and gunnery in the Baltic, and a short cruise by 1st Scouting Group to Amrum Bank. Early 1916 passed in much the same manner as the previous months – anchoring in Schillig Roads or Wilhelmshaven Roads, supporting reconnaissance missions by torpedo boat flotillas, dockyard time, a spell in the floating dock for propeller repair, training in the German Bight, and a sortie to rendezvous with the auxiliary cruiser “Mowe” and escort her into Wilhelmshaven. A sortie on 5 March by Seydlitz and Moltke was carried out to disrupt merchant shipping in the area of the “Hoofden” in the “Broad Fourteens” – but no shipping could be found and the battlecruisers returned empty-handed. Moltke and Seydlitz sortied to Amrum Bank on 25 March in an attempt to locate a damaged British destroyer under tow. Finding nothing, the two battlecruisers and their attendant light forces anchored south of Amrum Bank overnight. By 01:30, the weather had blown up a storm, so the squadron weighed and proceeded north in search formation. By 08:00 the seas were quite heavy and course was adjusted to lessen the wave action on the lighter ships. At 08:30, Moltke sheered out of line and hove-to in order to secure a 150 foot length of torpedo netting that had broken loose. Forty minutes later, Moltke got underway at 24 knots to catch-up to the column, only to find Seydlitz hove-to securing her torpedo nets. Around 11:20, Moltke again suffered net damage, and while hove-to, a man was swept overboard – but was miraculously recovered ten minutes later. The squadron then aborted the search and returned to Schillig Roads around 19:30. This whole episode called into question the usefulness of torpedo nets. On 24 and 25 April 1916, Moltke sortied with 1st Scouting Group on the Lowestoft Raid. (See Chapter 16 for details of the raid.) When moving in and out of the Wilhelmshaven Dockyards, SMS Moltke would have had to transit the III Ship Lock opened for service in 1910. (Seen in the picture.) Since the Jade Bucht (Jade Bay) is a tidal estuary, these locks are intended to maintain sufficient depth of water within the naval anchorage (Wilhelmshaven Roads) to accommodate large warships. The only “natural” anchorage in the area is Schillig Roads, a few miles north along a deep-water channel bordered by shallows and mud flats. The balance of April 1916 and most of May were spent by Moltke in a variety of small sorties into the German Bight or north to Amrum Bank, with time in the dockyard changing out worn propeller shaft blocks and replacing broken tubes in several failed boilers. At one point, an abortive search was conducted for the missing airship L-21, but mostly it was picket duty in Schillig Roads or anchorage in Wilhelmshaven Roads. On Tuesday, May 30 – all that changed. A wireless signal was received for the fleet to assemble in Schillig Roads by 21:00. This was followed shortly by another wireless message, this one from Vizeadmiral Hipper…“1st Scouting Group to assemble 18:00, Schillig Roads, anchorage A, Lutzow (flag) position 5”. Around 03:00, 31 May 1916, the wind was steady from the north-northwest at force 3, with rain and a thick haze. The battlecruiser crews were closed up at “sailing stations” as they watched the 2nd Scouting Group sweep past them at 18 knots in the morning darkness. They were accompanied by II and VI Torpedo Boat Flotillas -- the tiny craft belching thick clouds of funnel smoke that clung to the surface of the water. As the last ship passed, a signal lamp flashed from SMS Lutzow, and the big cruisers slipped their moorings and swung out into the channel accompanied by the IX Torpedo Boat Flotilla. Lutzow’s signal lamp flashed again and the battlecruiser’s engine room repeaters rang-up for 18 knots. As the Panzerkreuzer cleared the Jade, they swung north on a mission to hunt convoys – off the coast of Jutland…… We must leave SMS Moltke at this point – but we will come back to her…... SMS Moltke made fast to mooring points along the breakwater in the Cuxhaven Roadsted. Mooring Points are by “Mattb325” – modified with props by “AP”. The boat boom, small boats, motor launch, and the excellent battlecruiser are also by “AP”. NEXT TIME…… CRUISING THE SUNNY MEDITERRANEAN MANY THANKS to @Barroco Hispano for his beautiful warship models. SPECIAL THANKS to my collaborating partner, @AP, for his considerable talents, meticulous attention to detail, and wonderful models. I am indebted to him. If you enjoyed anything – please punch the “like” button so WE will know. A comment would be even more informative. Comments and critiques requested and gratefully accepted. All questions answered promptly to the best of our ability. THANK YOU for your visit! You may wish to visit these CJ’s as well…… SERIES I: IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: WILHELMSHAVEN SERIES II: IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: CUXHAVEN Appearing – Work In Publication SERIES III: IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: BREMERHAVEN Appearing -- ??? And please feel free to drop in at… THE SIMTROPOLIS SHIPYARD https://community.simtropolis.com/forums/topic/761469-simtropolis-shipyard/?tab=comments#comment-1766496

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

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

Palmer’s Shipbuilding & Iron Company, Ltd. -- Jarrow, Scotland – circa 1905. It is difficult to see much through the smoke, and steam, and early morning gloom. But this would have been a common sight along the River Tyne (“Tyneside”) in the early decades of the 20th Century. Highly visible are the unmistakable funnels and tripod masts of a pre-dreadnought battleship. Note the “spotting tops” on both masts. Just one of many British shipyards. IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: CUXHAVEN By: Dreadnought & AP Chapter 14: BIRTH OF THE IMPERIAL GERMAN BATTLECRUISER First -- let me clarify the “terms” used in previous chapters when referring to various warships. In the Royal Navy, the last armored cruisers were the Warrior Class of 1908-1909. These ships were followed in the evolutionary process by the revolutionary Invincible Class of 1908-1909. The Invincible’s were variously referred to as “dreadnought cruisers” or “large cruisers” until 1911, when they were officially reclassified as “battlecruisers”. In the Kaiserliche Marine, the last armored cruiser built was, arguably, SMS Blucher, and I have referred to her as an “armored cruiser” or a “Grosse Kreuzer” (large cruiser). Blucher was, in realty, evolved from the Scharnhorst Class armored cruisers, but she was such a significant advance on armored cruisers that it could be said she no longer belonged to that classification. I have tried to avoid attaching the term “battlecruiser” to German warships prior to the appearance of SMS Von der Tann in the narrative, because she was the first of this unique ship type built for the Imperial Navy. Not only was she “first”, but she was the beginning of an entirely new evolutionary track decades ahead of other navies. In the previous chapter, Von der Tann, Moltke, and Derfflinger, were referred to as “Panzerkreuzer”, (literally, armored cruiser) – but they were developed far beyond the armored cruiser concept. They were, in fact, battlecruisers – but in Germany, that term was not used until after World War I. Official documents of the Imperial Era called them “Grosse Kreuzer” (large cruiser). But the men who sailed and fought them, used the term “Panzerkreuzer”. And official reports of Admiral Hipper’s 1st Scouting Group used that term as well. Beginning with this chapter, you will see “Panzerkreuzer” and “battlecruiser” used interchangeably. THE ORIGINS OF “GROSSE KREUZER F - 1907” It should come as no surprise that the origin of the next new cruiser – “Grosse Kreuzer-F-1907” – though complicated and convoluted, would begin with Kaiser Wilhelm II. Wilhelm remained obstinate in his belief Germany should build “fast battleships” – thereby eliminating the need to build both costly large cruisers and battleships. A few weeks before the information about HMS Invincible came to light, in May 1906 – in a surprise move – the Kaiser announced a competition among German shipyards for a “fast battleship” type. Wilhelm stipulated the ships should form a “special purpose” squadron and be capable of both reconnaissance work and battle line duty. His Imperial Majesty further specified the ships should be 3 knots faster than foreign contemporaries and mount a main battery of no less than four 11-inch guns. He suggested the new Nassau Class dreadnoughts (already in blueprint stage) should be used as the basis for the new type. State Secretary von Tirpitz was, of course, opposed to the competition – on several different levels. First and foremost, he feared the cost of another new ship type would anger the Reichstag. And a new ship could strain an overworked design department, and over burden the Imperial Dockyards. Though the competition might have been an embarrassing surprise to Tirpitz, it showed Wilhelm clearly understood the trend in ship type development. Unlike Jackie Fisher, the Kaiser had taken the “dreadnought theory” to its’ logical conclusion. History would show the Kaiser had, for once, been remarkably farsighted. In Britain, Fisher had forced the revolutionary design of the Invincible Class through the Admiralty by sheer force of will – his will. And he had become fixated on a big-gun cruiser of remarkable speed. Being determined, but practical, when the designers told him he could not have guns, armor, and speed – Fisher sacrificed the armor. In theory, the 12-inch guns would overwhelm an enemy – and if they could not, then speed would carry his cruiser out of harm’s way. No need for anything more than minimal armor. In Germany, the Reichsmarineamt was constantly forced to impose limitations on ship designs due to financial constraints. The Kaiserliche Marine was not free to build numbers of “experimental” ships – nor could they take risks with new technologies. If Tirpitz went to the Reichstag for millions of Marks to build a ship, he had to be sure it was going to be a solid addition to the strength of the Hochseeflotte. Consequently, the Naval High Command and the Design Bureau always sought the safer, more reliable balance between guns, armor, and speed. Around the end of June 1906, the General Navy Department sent a memorandum to Tirpitz regarding the “Grosse Kreuzer 1907” and follow-on ships. In their opinion, Germany was only building “large cruisers” because they were outnumbered by the British large cruisers – and the British would only continue to out-build them. After the true proportions of the Invincible’s became public knowledge, those 12-inch guns, and news the Japanese were building a similar Tsukuba Class meant “...we must build our “Grossen Kreuzer” as “fast battleships”. The memorandum theorized the armored cruisers of the Kaiserliche Marine had been, for years, inferior to the British and could not have performed their reconnaissance function, trade protection, or cruiser warfare functions. For the same reasons, the armored cruisers (including the new Blucher) could not act as a “fast wing’ of the battle fleet because they did not have the displacement, gun power, or armor protection for that type of work. And – the Naval High Command was certain confrontation between enemy battleships and their armored cruisers was inevitable. Attached to the General Navy Department memorandum was a “specification sheet” calling for a ship with six to eight 11-inch high velocity guns in various configurations, with eight 5.9-inch secondary guns in casemates or twin turrets, twenty 3.5-inch anti-torpedo-boat guns, 4 torpedo tubes, armor just 20% less than the Ersatz Bayern Class battleships (in early planning stage), and a speed of not less than 23 knots. Tirpitz, for his part, stubbornly insisted the proper operational employment of “large cruisers” was against other cruisers. Tirpitz did not seem to understand that sea battles are like knife fights – there are no rules. The Naval High Command had expressed singular insight – which would be proven correct. Still in the early stages, the discussion continued. An article appeared in the July 1906 issue of “Marine Rundschau” – in opposition to the “fast battleship”. The author pointed out Invincible was a very powerful cruiser – but had no armor to defend against a battleship – and it was an illusion to think speed AND armor could coexist in a fast battleship. He also made it clear battleships should fight battleships – cruisers should fight cruisers – and the armored cruiser should never be placed in the battle line. In conclusion, he stated – unequivocally – “...the cruiser type was incapable of developing it’s armor capacity – and the battleship incapable of increasing its’ speed – to the point where the two types could merge”. Having been written by a Naval officer in the Reichsmarineamt, one must either accept the article as “official policy” – or – Tirpitz was turning the tables on Jackie Fisher and spreading a bit of disinformation of his own. No one will ever know. It is worth remembering Admiral Fisher had once considered “fast battleships”, but was distracted by his mania for speed. This “fetish” for speed produced heavily armed and extremely fast cruisers. But they had so little armor, the Royal Navy captains considered them little more than “deathtraps”. (That particular opinion would change as British battlecruisers grew in size and gun-power.) Fisher’s “speed equals armor” theory would eventually be carried to such ridiculous extremes that he fell from grace and was removed from the Admiralty. (Some of his last battlecruiser designs were so combat-ineffective they would be converted to high-speed aircraft carriers under the terms of the 1922 Washington Naval Treaty.) HMS Courageous as completed in 1916, moored at Scapa Flow. At 19,180 tons she had a low displacement, but at 786 feet she was very long (lots of boilers). Equipped with 4x15-inch guns in two turrets – her guns had longer range – but packed only half the firepower of other warships. With only four guns, it would have been more difficult to hit her target with one of those big shells – while her target might be able to close the range and wreak havoc on her flimsy 3 inch armor belt. Fisher believed her 32 knot speed would prevent such a disaster. (Her hull was so thin parts of the bow plating and decks buckled when she steamed at high speed into heavy seas!) Superb model courtesy of @Barroco Hispano. HMS Glorious as she might have looked in 1919, when she was taken out of service and “laid-up in ordinary”. Extremely long at nearly 800 feet, with an 81-foot beam -- almost the entire midships third of her hull was devoted to boiler rooms generating her impressive speed of 32 knots. Her unacceptably thin armor protection was the end result of taking Fisher’s battlecruiser concept to its ultimate limits. Her 15-inch guns were lethal, but her lack of protection made her unfit for combat with anything larger than a light cruiser. Even a 5.9-inch shell could cause serious damage to her thin-skinned hull. Here you see her moored to buoys just off an old pier in the “mothball anchorage”. This is where the old and obsolete ships go to wait for their trip to the breaker’s yard. (More on the “mothball anchorage” in later chapters.) HMS Furious as completed in 1917. Courageous, Glorious, and Furious were of the same class, but Furious was redesigned at the last minute to accommodate two gigantic 18 inch guns in two single turrets. The three ships were meant to spearhead one of Fishers favorite hair-brained ideas. In his mind, World War I could be ended in a fortnight by sending a large Royal Navy squadron into the Baltic Sea, landing a British expeditionary force on the Pomeranian coast, and marching on Berlin. The Baltic is notoriously shallow in coastal waters, so these battlecruisers were specially designed with a shallow draft to work close inshore and provide bombardment support for the troop landings. Stern 18-inch gun turret of Furious. This is the biggest gun ever mounted in a Royal Navy warship. It was capable of firing a 3,320 lb shell out to a maximum of 40,500 yards (effective range was only 31,400 yards). The shells were so huge and hard to handle, the rate of fire was only one round per minute. Royal Navy captains declared it useless against other ships because it took so long to load – fall of shot corrections would be worthless with the target ship moving far beyond the last shell splash. It might have been useful bombarding the Pomeranian beaches. However, it’s more likely rooted in a comment by Fisher – “We must have the biggest gun on the fastest ship!” All three ships were “laid up in ordinary” in 1919, and converted into aircraft carriers in the 1920’s. As if in support of the “disinformation” notion, Tirpitz appears to have realized something must be done to catch-up to the British. In July 1906, from his summer home in St. Blasien, he sent a memorandum ordering an increase in size and gun caliber on the 1907 ships – the new battleship and “Grosse Kreuzer F”. He also wanted designs prepared as soon as possible – the battleship with twelve 12-inch guns and the cruiser with eight 12-inch. Considering the British ships, it was logical, but von Tirpitz was compromising between the Reichstag’s financial considerations, public opinion, and naval requirements. As fate would have it, the cruiser proposal was soon abandoned – while the battleship project produced the four ships of the Helgoland Class (1910-1911). SMS Helgoland. Laid down at the Howaldtswerke, Kiel, in November 1908 – launched September 1909 – commissioned August 1911. She was the name ship of a class of four – the second generation of dreadnoughts built for the Kaiserliche Marine. She is moored, fore and aft, to “battleship buoys” laying offshore of a boat landing. The “rickety” pier is from the “PEG Cannery” lot. The landing office/tower and the large warehouse are by “Historic Harbors”, while the small warehouse is from “Nob’s 1905 Japanese Naval Series”. The sea walls are by NBVC and the pavement is Paeng’s Grunge Concrete set. Some of the small props on the landing are randomly selected from the “prop box”, but the vast majority are by "AP" -- as are the “battleship buoys”. The excellent battleship model is courtesy of Barroco Hispano. This shot shows the layout of the main battery armament. Though Helgoland is longer than the Nassau Class, they have retained the turret pattern, with twin turrets fore and aft, and two “wing turrets” on either beam amidships. An interesting point -- unlike other battleships of the period, Helgoland has her three funnels concentrated in a single group between the wing turrets. Another point of interest -- this class made the jump to 12-inch guns, rather than the standard 11-inch gun. Helgoland was 22,808 tons – 20.5 knots – 12x12-inch guns – 14x5.9-inch guns – 14x3.5-inch guns – 6x20-inch torpedo tubes – belt armor 11.8 inches. From this view, you can see the large areas of uncluttered deck space, providing wide firing arcs on either broadside. The superstructure, spartan though it is, has been concentrated along the centreline of the ship – out of the way of the big guns. This bow view demonstrates how “minimalist” the bridge structure was on the early German dreadnoughts – a tiny navigation bridge, the oval-shaped armored conning tower with rangefinder, and two banks of searchlights stepped against the foremast. The three forward turrets were grouped in this configuration with the intention of providing “ahead fire” by six guns. In reality, firing the two turrets abaft the bridge would have caused severe blast damage to the forward superstructure as well as ripping up the teak deck planking. Firing a battleship’s main armament anywhere but on the broadside was not recommended. This shot gives a better view of the small navigation bridge between the forward turret and the conning tower. It was small and cramped, but adequate for habitation during rough weather. You can also see the torpedo nets and booms collapsed against the hull. Just above them are the 5.9-inch secondary guns in turreted casemates at main deck level – seven on each beam. During rough seas, they would be awash. Amidships, around the funnels, the sloped sides at the base of the funnels cover the “armored funnel uptakes” (exhaust ducts for the boilers). Damage to the funnel uptakes could effect the operating pressure of the boilers – reducing speed – even though the boilers are usually operated under “forced-air draft”. Toward the stern, right behind the aft conning tower (with rangefinder on top), you can see a raised, tower-like, platform – a compass platform. A dreadnought is one gigantic mass of steel, and it tends to interfere with magnetic fields. The wooden platform raised above the deck lessens the compass distortion and can be used if the main compass on the bridge is destroyed or fails. A view of Helgoland’s stern. The stern anchor is tucked-in between two anti-torpedo-boat guns in hull casemates, with the shields open. On the starboard side, to the right of the main gun turret, you can see two of the 5.9-inch turreted casemate guns. The row of objects down the center of the fantail are skylights allowing sunlight into the officer’s accommodations below decks, and can be propped open to circulate air as well. Again, the three turrets grouped aft are intended to fire “dead astern” – not recommended. In all, she could present an eight-gun broadside. September 1906 saw Tirpitz opting for a new cruiser design of 19,000 tons, 8x11-inch, 8x5.9-inch, less expensive than Helgoland, speed 24 knots, stronger armor layout, and best of all -- steam turbines. The Admiral had stepped down from the larger gun, which could be considered unwise. But with turbines producing an acceptable speed, and a lighter propulsion plant, the weight saved by fewer turrets and guns could be converted into armor. Tirpitz had begun to think “outside the box”, and this was a clear indication the “Grosse Kreuzer” was moving toward the displacement, cost, and offensive/defensive capabilities of a battleship. A new “departmental” meeting was held the same month, and Tirpitz indicated the political climate favored the Kaiserliche Marine at the moment, and “the public” was of the opinion the British Invincible’s should be countered – the “Grosse Kreuzer-1907” must be equal, or better. The 11-inch, high velocity, rifle was agreed upon as being suitable to engage the enemy battle line – while saving weight. There was further discussion on underwater protection against large caliber shells, mines, and torpedoes – and the Design Department presented five studies. Three of the designs were rejected immediately because the 5.9-inch secondary guns were mounted in four twin turrets. Of the remaining two designs, Project I was rated at 23 knots with twin turrets fore and aft, and two single turrets on each beam. Project II reached 24 knots with twin turrets fore and aft and one on each beam. From that point the decision making process degenerated into a somewhat confused exercise in moving turrets around, changing from single to double turrets, placing the midships turrets in various locations, calculating costs and weight with each new configuration, and making endless numbers of sketch plans. A “base plan” was arrived at in October 1906, with twin turrets fore and aft and two twin “wing turrets” amidships, arranged in a diagonal echelon (“lozenge”) pattern – starboard wing turret forward. A November Construction Department memorandum outlined new developments. Parsons steam turbines had been added on four shafts, positioned, and the weights calculated. The bow armor was increased in coverage, and after initial towing tests, the length and beam were altered to obtain the best speed. The displacement had climbed to 19,200 tons. More changes occurred in February 1907, with the torpedo bulkhead and wing turrets moved inboard for better placement of the ammunition hoists and a faster rate of fire. Magazine space was increased as well. Finally, on 22 June 1907, Kaiser Wilhelm II signed off on the building order and tenders were invited for “Grosse Kreuzer-F”. Since the first memorandum from the General Navy Department, von Tirpitz had gradually – if grudgingly – come around to the prevailing opinions of the staff. It would be a gross over-simplification to say “Grosse Kreuzer-F” was merely a speedy version of the Helgoland Class battleships. The only thing they really had in common was a shared armor suite – though the cruiser’s armor belt was an inch thinner than the battleships – but she was 4 knots faster. “Grosse Cruiser-F 1907” was a sleek and striking design, and she would prove to be an excellent fighting ship. And, just in case you were wondering, the winner of the “Royal Fast Battleship Competition” was announced on 27 March 1907 – A.G. Weser Dockyards, Bremen. Their entry was “Polemos” – and her particulars were amazingly similar to the Design Department’s F2c plan. Within a percentage point here and there, the only real difference was “Polemos” had triple expansion engines and the armor on “Polemos” was less comprehensive. The Kaiser had wanted a “fast battleship” design – and A.G. Weser had designed one for him. And His Majesty was delighted – because Admiral von Tirpitz had designed a better one. (Tirpitz, however, would have preferred to be shot at dawn, rather than admit to designing a fast-battleship.) At this point the whole situation becomes a bit blurred. The Germans were obviously in a competitive ship building race with the British. But they were also in a developmental race. The Kaiserliche Marine privately acknowledged they could not out-build the British, but in order to remain competitive they had to build a warship superior to the British. Invincible’s high speed and monstrous 12-inch guns could be deadly to any existing cruiser. The Naval High Command had understood the dilemma perfectly well when they recommended...”we must build our Grossen Kreuzer as fast battleships.” Jackie Fisher had envisioned the Invincible Class as the ultimate “big cruiser” – fast, so she could scout in advance of the fleet and catch any enemy cruiser – and heavily gunned so she could destroy them. And that was fine – as far as it went. While Fisher’s battlecruisers might be able to avoid heavily gunned and armored battleships – with a bit of luck – what were they to do if confronted with an enemy battlecruiser equal in speed and comparable in firepower? Fisher had given them only a 6-inch armor belt, and that was totally inadequate to resist 11-inch and 12-inch gunfire. The German Naval High Command had found the flaw in Fisher’s logic. The British battlecruisers were awesome and terrible giants on offense, but they had an “Achilles’ Heel” on defense – little or no armor. The High Command further reasoned, if you could not build more ships than your enemy – build better ships. The process of designing a ship to counter the British was complicated -- with many twists and turns -- and would eventually have many fine technical details built into her. Nonetheless – the concept was reasonably straightforward. They took from Fisher’s battlecruiser concept the speed and guns – and added a full suite of carefully planned and arranged armor. Combine this with weight-saving technical advances in the propulsion plant, and the technologically advanced Krupp armor, and you had a single “Grosse Kreuzer” that was roughly equal to two Invincible’s. And in the process – either unwittingly, or intentionally – the Kaiserliche Marine had turned the mythical “fast battleship” into a reality. German designers were fully thirty years ahead of their time. Curiously enough, the Kaiserliche Marine preferred to call them “Grosse Kreuzer”, and the British do not seem to have caught-on to the difference. SIDEBAR ONE: “Langer Heinrich” under tow through the “swing bridge” at Wilhelmshaven dockyard – circa 1916. THE GROSSER SCHWIMMKRAN "LANGER HEINRICH” In the years leading up to the outbreak of war in 1914, the Kaiserliche Marine found itself building increasing numbers of large capital ships. They were also faced with rising political tensions in Europe and looking for ways to speed-up the building process. While the Imperial dockyards had built expensive cantilever cranes to handle the heavy lifting and fitting-out tasks, many of the private shipyards could not. The Reichsmarineamt decided the solution to the problem was a “Grosser Schwimmkran” -- a large floating crane capable of performing the heaviest work, while self-propelled and able to move around inside a dockyard – or from one dockyard to another on demand. Thus was born the concept of “Langer Heinrich” (loosely translated – “Long Henry”). Langer Heinrich from a side profile – circa 1917. Ordered in 1913, the crane structure was designed and built by Demag Fabrik in Duisburg and the hull, or “pontoon”, was constructed by AG Weser in Bremen. When completed in 1915, she was the largest floating crane in the world – even larger than the “Ajax” crane built to install the lock gates on the Panama Canal. The rectangular pontoon hull was 165 feet in length, 101 feet across, and drew 10 feet of water. The massive steel girder crane structure had a deadweight of 2,400 tons and rose 267 feet above the deck. Displacing 3,900 tons, Langer Heinrich was equipped with dual rudders behind twin propellers driven by two triple-expansion engines rated at 1,000shp each. The engines were fed steam by two large boilers housed in an aft deck house with a single funnel. Not built for any sort of speed, she was capable of only 4 knots. The hull pontoon was composed of 41 compartments – four containing pumping stations designed to flood other compartments to counterbalance the lift load. Certain compartments could also be “flooded-down” to steady the crane during sea movements. The crane structure could be rotated through a full circle and the jib boom had three smaller hoists of 10, 20, and 50 tons -- while the main hoist had two 125 ton lifting units that could be coupled together for a maximum capacity lift of 250 tons. (One of the main hoists would be sufficient to lift a 12-inch gun tube – about 110 tons – while both coupled units could lift an assembled gun house and it’s upper working chamber -- or “basket”.) Langer Heinrich was delivered to the Imperial Dockyards Wilhelmshaven in 1915 and saw extensive service in the fitting-out basin as well as repairing heavy war damage to the battleships and battlecruisers of the Hochseeflotte. As wartime demands rose, she was occasionally moved to Hamburg, Bremen, Kiel, and even the Schichau Yards in Danzig. After the Armistice in 1918, Great Britain claimed Langer Heinrich as “war reparations” – but Royal Navy officers deemed it impractical to move her across the North Sea. Instead, it was demanded similar cranes be built in Portsmouth (1920) and Brest (1935) at German expense. In 1928, when the German ocean liner SS Bremen was under construction, Langer Heinrich lifted the boiler plant into the hull. In 1933, the massive crane was used in the construction of the KM Admiral Graf Spee, and again in 1940 for the KM Tirpitz. By 1944, Langer Heinrich had been moved to Bremen to work in U-Boat construction. Her enormous lifting capacity allowed her to lift and place large prefabricated sections of submarine hulls -- and even completed smaller craft. Langer Heinrich raising a scuttled Type XVII-B submarine from Bremerhaven harbor – circa 1945. From 1945 to 1985, the crane was commandeered by the US Army and US Navy to clear wrecks out of German harbors and even unloaded complete steam locomotives to replace destroyed German rolling stock. In 1956 she was overhauled and modernized – mostly replacing her triple-expansion engines with new M.A.N. diesels. In 1985, Langer Heinrich was returned to the Federal Republic Of Germany and was sold later that year to an Italian company. In 2002 she was declared a “Monument To Industrial Archaeology” and work was undertaken to return her to her 1915 appearance. The crane passed her 100th birthday in 2015 and can still be seen on display in Genoa, Italy. In her day, Langer Heinrich was as famous as any of the Imperial warships and was featured on both German bank notes and collector cards. Here we have a selection of in-game pictures of “Langer Heinrich” in action…... Moored at her permanent berth in the dockyard. The model is, of course, the intricate work of our resident genius -- @AP – MANY THANKS. Though self-propelled, her engines were very low horsepower and she was usually towed from one job to another. The steam tug Goliath (Courtesy Barroco Hispano) is towing the giant crane, while a harbor tug (Thor) follows with a “brake” hawser attached. In this picture, Heinrich is hoisting a gun tube into SMS Seydlitz’ forward turret, while the steam paddle tug Esmeralda stands by the work barge. All models by “AP”. Always busy, the floating crane is assisting with some work on SMS Moltke’s turbines. Goliath stands by a machinist’s barge lashed alongside, while Nordwind and a harbor tug mind the turbine transport barge. Below is a detailed shot. All models courtesy of “AP”. Here we have two views of “Langer Heinrich” handling two sets of massive triple expansion engines for SMS Furst Bismarck. Her heavy lift capacity made Heinrich an invaluable dockyard asset and not only the largest crane in the world, but the most versatile. (Models by “AP”.) The amazingly detailed model of “Langer Heinrich” can be found in @AP “HISTORIC HARBORS 1900 Series – Volume 15”. SIDEBAR TWO: This short article is in reply to a question asked in the comments section of the last chapter. Being familiar with the fire control systems used during the 1905 Battle of Tsushima, the reader was curious about what systems came into use between 1905 and 1918. I gave him the short answer at the time, but promised a more informative answer here. This one’s for you @TheMurderousCricket. I hope it answers your questions – and I hope the lengthy and, sometimes complicated, details will not bore you. Again, I am happy to field any questions you may have. If there is an interest in a subject – as much information as possible should be made available. “Curiosity is the mark of intelligence – through it, knowledge is acquired.” DIRECTOR FIRE CONTROL SYSTEMS Throughout the 16th, 17th, and 18th Centuries, most naval combat took place between wooden sailing ships mounting the bulk of their guns in broadside. And, once the maneuvering for position was over, the fight usually degenerated into a slugging match at considerably less than 300 yards. Nelson’s triumph at Trafalgar was won with opposing ships-of-the-line grinding their hulls against one another. At that range – it was impossible to miss the target – and very little shooting skill was required. Some 66 years later, in 1871, HMS Devastation was launched – the first ironclad turret ship – and the ancestor of the modern battleship. Their main battery armament typically consisted of four 12-inch rifled, muzzle-loading, 38-ton guns in two revolving turrets. Produced in the Royal Arsenal, at Woolwich, in southeast London, the gun fired a 706-lb “Palliser” shell to a maximum range of 6,500 yards. Muzzle loaders proved problematic, and slow to load in combat (causing gunnery problems) – and were eventually phased-out in favor of breech-loaders. These guns were absolute monsters by comparison to the 32-pounder smoothbores aboard HMS Victory. And their 6,500-yard range was an enormous leap in gun range – resulting in an immense number of problems for capital ship gunnery, in general. In those days, gun turrets were operated under “Local Control”. A Turret Captain (with his gun crew) supervised the overall operation of the turret. “Loaders” handled the ponderous shells and rammed them into the breech, while a “spotter” in the forward part of the turret operated a sighting telescope with a crude aiming and ranging sight (not much different than the sights on an infantryman’s carbine). Following instructions from the “spotter”, the “gun-layer” trained the turret for “azimuth” and “laid it for elevation”. When all was ready, the Turret Captain gave the order to fire. “Local Control” meant each turret aimed and fired independent of the other turrets on the ship. This led to erratic and wildly differing results – meaning -- gunnery was still pretty much a “By guess and by God” proposition. It was clear the continual advancement of bigger guns with longer ranges could not be fully exploited without better technology for ranging and firing them. And that’s where Captain Percy Scott, Royal Navy, comes onto the scene. Percy Scott had a brilliant analytical mind, backed by boundless nervous energy – but found himself trapped in the waning years of a sedentary Victorian Navy. For over a decade, he had been working on improving the Royal Navy’s gunnery through the use of modern science. Scott realized the average gun-layer was incapable of accurately estimating the range to target, nor could he calculate the relative movement of his own ship and that of the target. He also knew turrets firing independently were not fully applying the power of the guns against the target. His fertile brain devised a series of hand-cranked mechanical computers that could take the estimated range, speed, and course of the target – and project an aiming point ahead of the target. He then linked these primitive computer systems to the gun turrets so they could be controlled and fired together. This was the crude beginnings of “Director Control”. Refined versions of his inventions eventually became the basis of Royal Navy fire control systems. But having invented it – he had to “sell” it to the Admiralty – and they weren’t buying. While Captain Scott was doing all this “secret” improvisation (meaning he did not have permission), he was in command of the cruiser HMS Scylla in the Mediterranean Fleet. He put his system to the test in the 1897 Fleet gunnery trials and raised his old score of 32% hits to 80%! Some envious brother officers (most of them senior to Scott) accused him of cheating. When the gossip got back to the Lords of Admiralty in London, they promptly relieved him of his command and landed him on the beach at half-pay! This was the sort of “hide-bound”, reactionary attitude he struggled against. In the Mediterranean Fleet, the ship’s Captains spent a goodly portion of their pay buying extra paint to keep their ships “sparkling” at all times, while gunnery training was ignored – firing practice left powder stains on the paint work. But modern technology inexorably moved forward whether their Lordships at the Admiralty liked it or not. (Fortunately, when Jackie Fisher became First Sea Lord, in 1904, he rescued Scott and officially backed his crusade to modernize gunnery in the Royal Navy.) In 1899, optical rangefinders began to appear in the major fleets, which solved the problem of getting an accurate range to the target. The Royal Navy adopted the Barr & Stroud, FQ2-type, 9-foot, coincidence rangefinder – which produced two images of the target that had to be cranked together until a single, sharp picture emerged – then you could read the range from a digital dial. The B&S worked quite well at shorter ranges, proved somewhat unreliable at long range, and was virtually useless in conditions of haze or mist. The Kaiserliche Marine chose the Zeiss, 9-foot, stereoscopic rangefinder – widely accepted as the finest optical instrument on the market. It was simple, but elegant, with a target marker that was centered amidships on the target, and the view adjusted for a sharp image. The Zeiss units required operators with excellent eyesight, but were remarkably good at finding the initial range, and were less effected by ship vibration or smoke. Their ease of operation allowed the Chief Gunnery Officer to keep track of the often rapid changes in course and speed of the target – thereby delivering a sustained fire on the enemy. With the range problem solved, it remained to calculate the speed of the opposing ship, adjust the aim ahead of the target (deflection), allow for the time of flight of the shells, and the pitch and roll of the firing ship. In 1902 a new device came into use – the Dumaresq – a manually-operated computing device. Information was fed into the device (own ship’s speed and course and speed of enemy) and the range to the target was updated, while a firing point ahead of the target (deflection) was provided. The Dumaresq was linked to a second new computing device – the Vicker’s Range Clock – which was a wind-up, clockwork, analogue computer for tracking continuous range to target. (The Vicker’s Range Clock was Scott’s brainchild, but was developed in conjunction with Vickers, Ltd. and manufactured by them.) Then, in 1911, Captain F.C. Dreyer (later Fleet Flag Captain to Jellicoe) devised the “Dreyer Table”, which maintained a continual plotted range to target and rate of change. The Dreyer Table also incorporated a primitive gyroscope to allow for the “yaw” of the firing ship. A system similar to the Dreyer Table was under development by Arthur Pollen about the same time, and competitive tests were run by two battleships equipped with the different systems. After extensive testing in 1905 and 1906, the Royal Navy found the Dreyer System to be more reliable. Finally, the necessary mechanical computers had been invented that would make “Director Fire Control” a reality, and modern gunnery came into its’ own. At least – that’s what one would think. But the Admiralty had other ideas. In the past, authors and analysts have mercilessly criticized the Admiralty as being stubborn, tyrannically dictatorial, and thoroughly resistant to modern change -- in an age that was characterized by the shocking swiftness of changes in guns, armor, and engines – and capital ship design, in general. Quite literally, today’s newly commissioned battleship could be tomorrow’s obsolete beast. And, curiously enough, recent authors have tried to revise history by portraying their Lordships as progressive and fully open to change – which, they were NOT. At the turn of the 20th Century, Britain possessed the largest battle fleet on Earth, and they stubbornly refused any technological advance that threatened their primacy. Their Lordships knew the Royal Navy was “superior”, and there was no need to make changes to the system – hence, battleship admirals that preferred sparkling paint work to gunnery practice. For thirty years, the Lords of Admiralty flatly refused to see the need for changes in the science of gunnery. They fought Percy Scott’s reforms “tooth and nail” and toe-to-toe. Even when Scott and his fellow officers managed to invent the necessary systems and prove them in testing, the Admiralty would not embrace the much needed innovations. By the end of 1911, only HMS Thunderer and Neptune had been fitted with the full system. When war broke out in 1914, only eight ships had been equipped with the, then current, system. By the Battle of Jutland, in 1916, only six capital ships were fully fitted for both main battery and secondary battery systems – and NONE of the cruisers. In essence, Britain went to war with the largest fleet of modern dreadnoughts the world would ever know – of which, very few could hit “a bull in the butt with a base fiddle”. (Thank you, Admiral Halsey, for the colorful quote.) The Kaiserliche Marine used a similar operational form of Director Fire Control, but it differed somewhat in that the German devices were streamlined and more adaptable to quick changes in the target’s course and speed. Almost the same, there was a German version of the Dumaresq, a range clock, and the E-U Anzeiger unit – basically, a German evolution of the Dreyer Table. The system was, according to the British, inferior to their Dreyer Table arrangement – but the superior German gunnery at Jutland belied that opinion. When the Hochseeflotte went to war in 1914, ALL of their capital ships, and nearly all of their cruisers, were fitted with the latest in fire control equipment. This is “Gunnery Central” (transmitting station) aboard HMS Belfast. The light cruiser was commissioned in 1939, and her chief claim to fame is having played a significant part in the 1943 Battle of North Cape, and the sinking of the battlecruiser KM Scharnhorst. She is currently anchored in “The Pool” of London, on the Thames, below Tower Bridge and across from The Tower of London. (Where I last saw her.) The “Director Control” equipment in the picture is a more modern version developed by the Admiralty in 1927 – but it is essentially the same “basic concept” in use during WW I. This is the analogue computer table used to generate firing solutions for the main guns. The disc-shaped device on the wall in the corner of the compartment is a Dumaresq. Adjacent to it, with the long silver bar, is a refined version of the Dreyer Table. The surface of the 8-foot long computer box has numerous “clock-type” displays as well as digital repeaters, while you can see some of the numerous hand-cranks used to enter information. When all the gears stop turning, the computer displays a firing solution and sends it to the turrets. This model was advanced enough in 1927 to control the simultaneous training and elevation of the turret guns. (I was unable to find this sort of illustration for the WW I era – but – you get the picture.) The actual “Director Fire Control” aboard a Royal Navy warship started in the “spotting top”. Typically, the spotting top was perched high above the forward bridge on a tripod foremast. Some warships used “pole masts” rather than tripods, and spotting tops were often fitted to the mainmast, as well. The position evolved from a simple “crow’s nest” to a spacious housing with as many as two or three levels. The ship’s Chief Gunnery Officer and his “topside team” were stationed here, along with the rangefinder, range clock, and Dumaresq. The spotting top team was charged with ranging to the target, observing and estimating the enemy’s course and speed and, most important -- reporting the “fall of shot” (where the shells landed on or around the target). There was a constant stream of visual information entered into these devices and sent through communication cables to the “transmitting station” (or – Gunnery Central). The “fall of shot” and resulting aiming corrections were called directly to the turret gunlayers by the Chief Gunnery Officer via handset telephone. His primary job was to directly supervise and coordinate the firing of the main battery guns. His skill and training could make a critical difference in battle. (In the Kaiserliche Marine, a Chief Gunnery Officer could only be appointed after completing a lengthy “Master Gunner’s” course and qualifying on a ship’s gunnery range. Only then could he be promoted to the coveted assignment of “Schutze Meister”.) The communication cables from the spotting top led down into the bowels of the ship to a “transmitting station” – or “Gunnery Central” (“Artillerie Zentral” if you sprechienzie.) There may be more than one transmitting station aboard, and their exact location differed from ship to ship and navy to navy. Usually, they were placed in the safest possible location – amidships beneath the Protective Armored Deck. Inside “Gunnery Central”, a “fire-solution” team receives the information from the spotting top and feeds it into the Dreyer Table – a crank-operated analogue computer. As information is fed into the machine (by using hand cranks to adjust various digital displays), it continually updates and displays a “firing solution” for the guns – which is then sent to the gun turrets via more communication cables. Inside the gun house, the information is flashed-up on the gunlayer’s electro-mechanical, digital display and he proceeds to train the turret for azimuth (lateral position) and lays the gun for elevation (range). When the gun is properly positioned he informs the Turret Captain, who then pushes a green button – which signals the turret guns are loaded, aimed, and ready to fire. Back in the spotting top, the Chief Gunnery Officer’s position has a series of lights and buttons on an electrical panel. Each gun turret is represented by a red light, green light, and the red firing button. Once the gun is loaded and properly aimed, the Turret Captain activates the green light on the Gunnery Officer’s panel. The Chief Gunnery Officer can then fire a single turret or any combination of turrets he deems appropriate. He sets a selector switch to those he intends to fire, presses a “firing alarm” button that sounds a klaxon in the turret – then hits the firing button. The operator of the “shot clock” activates the timer and the “spotter” waits for the shell splashes. If the course and speed of the target remains relative, corrections for the next salvo may be called directly to the gunlayer in the turret. Some gunnery officers wait for corrections to be applied by the gunlayer, then shoot again, while others wait for a new firing solution from “Gunnery Central”. (For the record: A later form of “Director Control” actually allowed the Chief Gunnery Officer to control the training and elevation of the guns from his position -- but that system did not come into common use until the late 1920’s.) In the Kaiserliche Marine, the equipment and layout was pretty much the same, with the exception of the spotting top. The Germans initially started with a spotting top on the fore and aft pole masts. But beginning with SMS Von der Tann’s design, spotting tops were restricted to ranging and spotting the fall of shot, while the Chief Gunnery Officer and his control panels were moved into the top two floors of the heavily armored forward and aft conning towers – allowing “Director Control” from two locations. All four positions were equipped with the Zeiss 9-foot rangefinder, in addition to two more mounted in the upper works of the superstructure (the location varied from ship to ship). During combat, all rangefinders that would bear on the target sent data to “Artillerie Zentral”, thus ensuring the most accurate range estimates possible. During the conflict in the North Sea, the Imperial warships proved uncommonly adept at quickly acquiring the initial range – usually “straddling” or hitting the target on the third salvo (one and a half minutes) -- a fact frequently noted in British battle reports. On the other hand, Royal Navy warships often took up to eight full minutes to land their first “straddle”. Over years of intensive gunnery training and practice, the Hochseeflotte developed a “salvo-fire” system that produced excellent results. The Chief Gunnery Officers were trained to fire “two-turret-salvos” – four forward guns, followed at an interval by four aft guns. This saved ammunition that would have been wasted in an eight-gun-salvo, reduced the amount of powder smoke fouling their aim, and gave a tighter and more visible grouping of shells around the target – thereby improving the “spotting” information. Another, most effective, means of quickly acquiring the range to target was what the Germans called “ladder fire”. The first two-turret-salvo was aimed and fired carefully, but if it went “over” the target, ALL turrets were given a “down 400” correction, then the aft two turrets were fired. If the second salvo still fell “over” – another “down 400” correction was made – and so on. By making small, identical, corrections – like climbing up or down a ladder – the target could be acquired quickly and “rapid salvo fire” ordered. If nothing else, this particular system plainly demonstrates the value of Director Fire Control. And it should be remembered – Kaiser Wilhelm II had always been a staunch advocate of superior gunnery skills – awarding medals to the crews, and his “Schutze Trophy” to the winning ship. He often threw in extra gifts of Schnapps and fine foods to the mess decks for a celebratory party. Despite his frequently feckless behavior, His Imperial Majesty – in his own way – understood just having a lot of guns wasn’t enough. You had to be able to hit something with them! NEXT TIME…… ANATOMY OF A BATTLECRUISER In the meantime, let’s talk about…... IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS Again, I have probably bored you with technical details – which I find fascinating – but you may not. So let us take a break from ship design and building, and take a look at the “Imperial Dockyard: Cuxhaven”. That way I can get some in-game pictures into this chapter. Strictly speaking, there were only three Imperial Dockyards (Kaiserwerft) within the Empire – Kaiserwerft Wilhelmshaven, Kaiserwerft Kiel, and Kaiserwerft Danzig. These establishments were not just naval anchorages. They provided docking facilities for large and small warships – piers, quays, and offshore mooring points. They had various coaling arrangements – from large coaling quays to smaller, and more primitive transfer systems. There was, usually, a small oil fuel pier since “oil-firing boilers” were coming into service. A complete facility for ammunition storage and replenishment was always present. There were, in some of them, “Fitting-Out Basins” (heavy work to complete the building process) and “Re-fit Basins” for not-so-heavy “modernization”. Dry docks were always available (anywhere from one to five each) for major repair work, simple bottom scraping and painting, or sometimes for ship construction. And both Wilhelmshaven and Kiel were equipped with a variety of floating docks, some capable of handling the largest warships. Nestled in among all of this was a variety of workshops, warehouses, foundries, and machine shops necessary to provide the mechanical support to keep the fleet battle-ready. And all Imperial Dockyards were equipped with building slips for large warships – usually four or five. It was Reichsmarineamt policy that at least one capital ship be under constructing at all times in each of the three dockyards. Technically speaking, “Cuxhaven” is not an “Imperial Dockyard” because there are no building slips. The thought has crossed our minds – and “AP” and I will undoubtedly throw one together – once we’ve worked out all the bugs. This, and the following two pictures, show the warehouses and workshops in the West Loch. Being older and smaller than Cuxhaven Roadsted, the West Loch industrial buildings are less numerous and were retained during the expansion at the turn of the century. The long warehouses are from the “PEG Seaports Series”, while other buildings were taken from the Maxis industrial props. The buildings in the center are the “Ropewalk”, where hawsers for the ships are stored. The two buildings are taken from “Nob’s 1905 Naval Series”. The following two pictures are of the workshops and foundries where repair parts are cast and machined and custom repair materials are made. In the early years of the 20th Century, repair parts were not ordered from a supply chain – they were often “made-to-order” on site – cast, hammered, and machined to fit individual requirements. Factory assembly lines (at least in Europe) were still a thing of the future. Since the repair facilities in the West Loch are smaller, less “specialized”, and less modern, the ships berthed here have to go around the headland to the Cuxhaven Roadsted for major work. The four central buildings of the West Loch complex are all re-purposed from various in-game industrial lots. The red brick is from Morgenkirk’s Organworks, and the other three are by “Simmer2”. In this view, you see the adjacent dock areas of the West Loch – the railhead, the warehouses, and the dockside. If you look closely, you will see the whole area is alive with activity and people. It has always been my personal opinion that SC4 needed more people engaged in some sort of activity. Just like any dockside in any harbor – there is cargo in motion and people milling about in all directions. This concept is part of our “busy harbor” philosophy and helps bring the setting to life. Below is a shot of the industrial area behind the Mooring Basins in the Cuxhaven main anchorage. The landscape is a combination of hills and sand dunes, with a mix of clear terrain and thickly forested areas. Along the roads and rail lines are a series of 1x1 custom “Tree Filler” lots, some with lighting – some without – specifically created as borders along transportation routes. The heavy forest is a combination of 1x1 custom “Forest Tree Filler” lots designed to blend in with MMP work. Again, I use landscape MMP’s to “paint” the scenery and recommend @Girafe highly. Along the top end of the mooring basins, you see a cluster of industrial lots. On the left are a mixed batch taken mostly from the Maxis industrial base lots – a foundry and a blast furnace. In the center is a 7x6 “Gun Tube Storage” lot. Cuxhaven does not have the industrial equipment to cast, turn, and line gun barrels, so new gun tubes are brought in by rail and stored here until needed. Old worn-out gun tubes (a bit rusty) are kept here waiting to be sent out to get the tube liners replaced. (Old gun tubes never die – they just get relined.) The warehouses on the lot are from “Nob’s 1905 Japanese Naval Series”. On the right are the boiler works. This is a close-up of the Gun Tube Storage lot. Note the two flatbed rail cars with gun tubes on them. You can find pictures from the period that look just like them. A small blue switch engine is being used to shuttle the tubes on the rail line, as well as in and out of the storage depot warehouse. Beside the switch engines, in front of the warehouse, are two gun tubes with work details cleaning them, servicing the breech mechanisms, and preparing them to be sent out. Notice the two “100 ton” cranes moving the gun tubes around. In case you’re wondering, the gun tubes have two wooden transportation cradles attached to them. At the bottom of the picture, “WolZe’s” steam tug is standing by as preparations are made to lift two gun tubes out of a lighter. The base texture of the lot is Paeng’s Grunge Concrete. The large workshop and old warehouse are from “Nob”. The sailors, gun tubes, “100 ton” cranes, rail cars, rope coils, and lighter are all by “AP’. This is, actually, the front view of the Boiler Works – but all the activity is in the back by the rail line. Here, boilers are built and shipped to the Dry Dock, repair docks, or even to other shipyards or naval bases, as needed. The work barge and crane tied-up in the basin are by “AP”. The dark brick workshop is borrowed from “SM2”. I cannot, for the life of me, remember where the large brick factory building comes from (it’s been in the game forever). I modified both lots to add more industrial smoke. Dockyard pictures from around 1910 always had a smokey haze. I have used various 1x1 custom-made lots to fill in around the buildings. This shot is an overview of all the activity at the rail siding behind the Boiler Works. In this close-up, a work detail prepares to load a third boiler onto a rail car and secure it. Another detail of sailors is preparing to hook up a hoist to the boiler on the left. On the right, another crew of workmen are making repairs to another pair of boilers. You will note there are two types of boilers visible – the standard, circular type – and a new type with angular sides. The boilers developed by Blohm & Voss, and installed in “Grosse Kreuzer F” closely resembled the angular type. The circular boilers were patterned after those aboard RMS Titanic. Sailors, rope coils, and boilers are by “AP”. This is the Cuxhaven “Machinen Werk” (Engine Works). The building on the right is where the engine parts are cast and forged before being moved to the building on the left. The building on the left is where the parts are machined, drilled, and punched before being hand fitted as they construct the engines from full size templates. A triple-expansion engine had hundreds of bolted or riveted pieces that had to be fitted with hundreds of other moving parts that were precision machined before fitting. The construction of battleship engines could take months of hard, intricate work, and even a bit of trial and error. Heavy industry had already come to Germany, and they excelled at it. But much of the advanced machine technology of the day was accompanied by a lot of manual labor. This is a rear view of the engine works. On the left is “Prairie Star Foods” with “Dead Forest Paper” on the right – repurposed for use as industrial buildings. I used a lot of in-game 1x1 lots to fill in around the buildings. Some filler lots are from the T-Wrecks “IRM Industrial Set”, while others are custom-made from random props found in the Maxis Editor. In this close-up, you see the finished product of the Machinen Werk – several three cylinder, triple-expansion steam engines. Two of the engines have been lifted onto flat cars and crews stand by to shackle them down. Some sailors have climbed on top of the big engines to help secure the retaining cables over the top. Another flat car has a cluster of men waiting for an engine to be swung aboard. The rail-side crane is preparing to lower the hook so it can be attached to the engine below. To the left of the loading pad, you can see heavy crankshafts in traveling cradles that will soon be loaded-out. The crane on the left has been lifting the heavy parts to test-assemble the large, three cylinder triple-expansion engine beneath it. Once all the parts have been properly fitted, and a manual operation test done, the engine will be disassembled and shipped out to its’ destination. At that time, interchangeable parts were a thing of the future, and each engine had to be hand assembled. The large engine on the left is a propulsion unit for a capital ship, while the smaller engines could be used in smaller ships, or as auxiliary engines aboard the big ships (steering engines, dynamo engines, pump engines, etc.). There are two different sized engines – but notice the size of the engines in relation to the sailors nearby. “AP’s” sailors, engines, and ships are all carefully crafted to be “in scale”. This gives you a really good idea how huge these old engines were. The sailors, rope coils, crankshafts, condensers, and beautifully detailed engines are by “AP”. (His engines are just one “first” among many unique creations.) At the head of the Mooring Basin behind the Engine Works, we find a small group of sailing vessels tied-up at mooring dolphins. The large one is a schooner. Known in Europe since the 16th Century, they were small, fast, boats used to carry passengers or perishable goods – such as fruits and vegetables. They were valued in European coastal waters for their speed and easy maneuverability in confined waters. Larger versions were bulk carriers – mostly coal and timber. With a small crew, they were more economical to operate and generated higher profits per voyage. The smaller boats are sloops – even faster than schooners, they were once prized by Buccaneers for the ease with which they ran down their treasure-laden victims. Sailing ships were common in early 20th Century harbors the world over. Sailing vessels were dependent upon the vagaries of the wind, but compared to a coal-burning steamer, they were usually faster, and vastly less expensive to operate. Shipping companies continued to use them until the end of WW II, when surplus “Liberty Ships” could be purchased for a pittance. “AP” enjoyed making these models. They are a part of the “Romance of the Sea” and they were a bit of an “exploration” for him. We hope you like them. AS ALWAYS -- MANY THANKS to @Barroco Hispano for his many beautiful and highly detailed warships. VERY SPECIAL THANKS to my collaborating partner @AP for volunteering his talent, time, and vivid imagination in creating so many beautiful and wonderfully detailed models. I am in awe of his talent and envy his skills. If you enjoyed anything you saw – please punch the “like” button so I will know. A comment would be even more informative. Comments and critiques requested and gratefully accepted. All questions answered promptly to the best of my ability. THANK YOU for your visit! You may wish to visit these CJ’s as well…… SERIES I: IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: WILHELMSHAVEN SERIES II: IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: CUXHAVEN Appearing – Work In Publication SERIES III: IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: BREMERHAVEN Appearing -- ??? And please feel free to drop in at… THE SIMTROPOLIS SHIPYARD https://community.simtropolis.com/forums/topic/761469-simtropolis-shipyard/?tab=comments#comment-1766496