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IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: CUXHAVEN By: Dreadnought & AP Chapter 58: THE PHOTO TOUR 14 Every naval base has an ammunition storage facility and the means to distribute the powder and shells to the warships. Some installations are big and some are small – but the one thing they all have in common, is that none of them are ever the same. The size of each facility is determined by the number and size of the warships it will serve, while the layout is usually governed by the available terrain. Some facilities are tucked into quiet corners of a naval base, while others are built in isolated locations a mile or more away from an anchorage. There are installations that handle ammunition across shoreline docks, while others transfer munitions at the end of piers half a mile out into a bay. (The long pier is an attempt to limit possible damage from accidental explosions. See “Imperial Dockyards: Wilhelmshaven” for this type of installation.) This is an overview of the different elements of the munitions Handling chain for the Cuxhaven dockyards. Ammunition is brought in by train via a spur line off the main railroad to the south of the picture. This is the “main line” running into the naval base. The ammunition is delivered to the main storage complex (bottom center of picture). At the storage complex, the ammunition is sorted into type of shell – high explosive or armor piercing – and size of shell – 12-inch, 11-inch, 5.9-inch – etc, etc. Once sorted by size, the shells would be stored in “dated lots” according to their date of manufacture. Distribution to the warships was by a “first in – first out” schedule, meaning that the oldest shells were always in the ship’s magazines, with the “next-oldest lot” waiting to be distributed. Powder charges, both “cased” and “bagged”, were handled in a similar manner. This method produced a complicated, but necessary, bookkeeping system within the storage facility, and required frequent testing of sample shells and charges within the “dated lots” to verify their quality. As the shells and powder charges aged, the explosive materials could become inert and fail to ignite, or became extremely volatile and prone to unpredictable explosions. In the Kaiserliche Marine, shells and powder charges approaching their “shelf-life” were often expended on the gunnery ranges. In the Royal Navy, it was not uncommon to simply dump them over the side while at sea. This view shows the Munitions Complex at top, with a loading dock just off the main rail line into the naval base. At the bottom of the picture, just right of the dry dock, is the munitions pier, where ammunition is distributed to the warships. (See Chapter 55 for details.) You will notice the rail line cuts through a pass between the hills surrounding the harbor. I did not build the “hills” in a measured progression (which I should have) and therefore have no idea of their actual height above sea level. I estimate them at anywhere from 200 to 300 feet – not exactly the Rocky Mountains, but certainly a “big hill”. This is another view from the north, showing the line of hills along the backside of the Neu Hafen. Once I had perfected a landscape style for the Cuxhaven map, I had the irresistible urge to create some mountains, much like those found in the superb work of @The British Sausage. His style inspired me to make an effort to create some realistic-looking mountains and cover them with my new landscape style. However, the generally “flat” nature of the North German Plain nagged at my conscience, so I settled for some large hills, instead. The “Meadowshire Terrain MOD” produces a grayish texture on slopes, which vaguely resembles a rock face. In order to make this look more realistic, I lowered the angle of the slope in some areas and flattened small areas in other places to produce a green, grassy terrain. I then individually placed MMP trees in the valleys between the hills, and along the grassy slope areas that I had created. The “terra-forming” was all done with the “God Mode” tools. This approach is very time-consuming and can be quite tedious – but I think the result was well worth the effort. This is an overview of the munitions bunker complex on the far side of the hills. The complex was an active and busy place on a daily basis. Shells and powder were shipped to the distribution docks on an almost daily basis to refill ship’s magazines when they participated in week-long gunnery practice. (This could be accomplished across the docks or by lighters for ships moored in the roadsted.) Shells and powder charges were constantly being rotated inside the bunkers in adherence to the “first in – first out” policy. And a given number of shells and charges were tested for quality every day. Constant handling of powder and shells was a daily hazard that was subject to the “law of averages”. Eventually, there would be the inevitable accidental explosion. Considering the huge amount of gunpowder in such a small area – the explosion would likely be big, deafening, and enormously destructive. The storage bunkers were deliberately built on the far side of the hills to reduce the blast effects on the harbor facilities and the moored warships. 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. (At this point, I should point out the Kaiserliche Marine never had more than five battlecruisers in service in the North Sea. The magazine space aboard these ships averaged about 800 rounds. That means there were 4,000 shells, 4,000 bagged charges, and 4,000 cased charges filling the main battery magazines of 1st Scouting Group. Roughly twice that amount was held in the munitions complex, which could be augmented by express rail deliveries from a central storage complex located near Rendsburg. This, of course, does not take into account the 5.9-inch secondary ammunition – nor the ammunition for the armored cruisers, light cruisers, and torpedo boats. For game purposes, I created a Munitions Complex large enough to represent the basic idea, but the real complex would have been two or three times this large.) 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. Note the landscape details. 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. The loading dock is re-purposed from the “PEG SNM Battleship Dock”, while the dockside cranes are from the “PEG” trash lots. The railroad crane is from “Simmer2” with its shuttle engine provided by “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. The center of the complex is occupied by a large, more or less, empty quadrangle. The “quad” provides a safety zone between the powder bunkers and the shell storage, and 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” with tire tracks -- some 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. In the event of an explosion, the basic idea was to use the berm to channel any blast effects upward, rather than outward. These are the testing facilities. 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 shell. This is the torpedo loading dock on the far side of the compound. A separate dock was provided to reduce the congestion in 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 railway cars for transport to the munitions 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. Finally – some additional shots of the hills and landscape. This is an overview of the hills between the munitions complex and the harbor. Note that the tree patterns are confined to the grassy portions of the hills and tend to concentrate in the valleys and low spots between the hills. Same hills – different angle. The heavily forested areas are concentrated in the “flat-lands” and they thin out considerably as they extend up the slopes. The vast flat-land forested areas were filled in largely with custom-made, 1x1 Tree Filler lots and blended with MMP work. The trees on the slopes and hills were all individually plopped MMP’s. Notice how, even at this zoom level, you can pick out the individual trees by their shape, size, and color. I specifically used mostly lighter green trees for the higher altitudes. This is a closer zoom level of the landscape details on the two largest hills. You can see the differences in the “Meadowshire MOD” texturing. It gives the impression of rocky-faced areas, without getting into minute detail. I thought about adding the odd “NBVC Rocks” – but didn’t want to risk spoiling the overall look. Same zoom level of the smaller hills that trail off toward the map edge. I was particularly pleased with this area. The terrain MOD produced some earthen areas in addition to the grass and rock faces. In this type of terrain, the trees would naturally grow in the low spots where erosion has dumped sand, soil, and gravel. Again, each tree has been individually placed. This is a shot of the lower hills as they trail off and disappear into the heavily forested area on the right. This is a last shot of the second largest hill. It has a gentle slope in the rear with a much more vertical face along the harbor edge (to the right). This is another view of the hills fronting the munitions depot. Note the "pass" through the hills and the trees along the grassy areas. A “green” landscape is another of my “qwerks”. It could be an industrial zone, a harbor, or the down-town banking district of a major metropolis – but it must have greenery. Many years ago, before the military got hold of me, I took extensive courses in mechanical drafting, architectural drafting, and landscape architecture. I even took a light-weight course in city planning. My “planning” professor was always nagging at me because I insisted on “green belts”, leafy boulevards, shady plazas, and landscaped skyscrapers and office complexes. (The “Prof” invariably pointed out all that “high-dollar” real estate growing nothing but trees.) I grew up in Chicago and Los Angeles – skyscrapers, concrete, and asphalt parking lots – and a virtual ocean of housing subdivisions with postage-stamp yards. Even with 36,000 square miles in Los Angeles, I can’t think of a more ecologically hostile environment for 18.3 million inhabitants. So that goes a long way to explaining why I went to just as much trouble to plant trees as I did to make docks. NEXT TIME…… CUXHAVEN: THE PHOTO TOUR 15 MANY THANKS to @Barroco Hispano for his beautiful warship models. SPECIAL THANKS to my friend and partner, @AP, for his talents, meticulous models, colorful imagination, and extreme dedication. If you enjoyed anything – please punch the “like” button so WE will know. A comment would be even more informative. Comments and critiques requested and gratefully accepted. All questions answered promptly to the best of our ability. THANK YOU for your visit! You may wish to visit these CJ’s as well…… SERIES I: IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: WILHELMSHAVEN SERIES II: IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: CUXHAVEN Appearing – Work In Publication SERIES III: IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: BREMERHAVEN Appearing -- ??? And please feel free to drop in at… THE SIMTROPOLIS SHIPYARD https://community.simtropolis.com/forums/topic/761469-simtropolis-shipyard/?tab=comments#comment-1766496

IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: CUXHAVEN By: Dreadnought & AP Chapter 57: THE PHOTO TOUR 13 In this chapter, we will take a look at the destroyers berthed along the east quay of the Inner Basin. Historically, the scouting forces of the Hochseeflotte consisted of the 1st and 2nd scouting groups. There were other scouting groups – light cruisers and torpedo boats -- but they were assigned to work with the battle fleet and were home-ported in Wilhelmshaven. The 1st Scouting Group, the battlecruisers – and the 2nd Scouting Group, composed of light cruisers and torpedo boats – constituted the main advanced scouting forces of the Hochseeflotte. This force fanned out in a search pattern ahead of the battle fleet to seek out the enemy. (See Chapter 24 for details of their formation and search procedures.) In the 2nd Scouting Group, the torpedo boats were used to search and to investigate sightings – while supported by the light cruisers of the group. In the 1st Scouting Group, the torpedo boats were tasked with screening the battlecruisers from submarine attack and defending them against enemy destroyer attacks. (As mentioned earlier – strictly speaking – the Kaiserliche Marine did not have “destroyers”. German torpedo boats carried a heavy torpedo armament alongside an adequate gun armament and were oriented toward aggressive torpedo attacks on enemy capital ships. The Royal Navy protected their capital ships with heavily-gunned “torpedo-boat-destroyers” – hence the term “destroyer”.) This overview shows the eastern quay of the Inner Basin. Two destroyer flotillas of twelve boats each are “nested” at berths. The VI Flotilla on the right is assigned to work with the light cruisers of 2nd Scouting Group, while the IX Flotilla on the left is assigned as escort for the battlecruisers of 1st Scouting Group. Note the extensive dockside infrastructure supporting the flotillas. The ships composing the VI Flotilla are not, as you can probably tell, WW I Era German torpedo boats. They are, in fact, Italian Leone Class destroyers built between the wars (they saw service in WW II). Unfortunately, I had no models of British WW I destroyers – but these Italian ships are quite handsome and vaguely similar to early British designs – so I went with them. The Leone Class ships displaced 2,195 tons and were strikingly long and narrow (372 feet in length, 34 feet in beam) – well armed with 8x4.7-inch guns in four twin mounts and 6x17.7-inch torpedo tubes in two triple mounts – and capable of a dazzling 33 knots. The dock they are nested against was taken from a “PEG Marina Set” and re-lotted onto an “NBVC Seawall”. This is a close-up view of the quayside support facilities. The four metal sheds on the left were borrowed from the “PEG SNM Submarine” base – re-lotted on 2x2 lots. The rusty-roofed warehouse next to them is absolutely perfect for a turn-of-the-century harbor and can be found in “SimCoug’s Historic Harbor” series. The building is lotted on a 1x1 tile and overhangs the two adjacent lots. This makes it possible to plop a 1x1 modular lot on either end to compliment the structure – note the activity on either end. The small warehouse and angular building on either side of the water tower are from the Maxis industrial props. The angular building is a machine shop to assist with repairs and maintenance. Same scene, different view. Notice the display of diagonal props to the left of the water tower. It is amazing what a difference diagonal props can make in a scene. I found these among the hundreds of props and lots in the “SimCoug” collection and thought I’d give them a try This is a close-up of the Leone Class destroyers. They are finely detailed models, with excellent weathering, and typical of the light destroyers built between the wars for service in the Mediterranean. The only noticeable error the model maker made concerns the midships torpedo tubes – there were six in twin mounts – not four. The Leone’s are courtesy of “Barroco Hispano”. These are the ships of the 9th Destroyer Flotilla, tasked with screening and anti-submarine duties for the main body of the 1st Scouting Group – the battlecruisers. The flotilla is composed of British Tribal Class destroyers. Built between the wars, the Tribal’s – next to the US Navy Fletcher Class destroyers – were the most effective destroyers deployed in the European theater during WW II. Note the paddle tug Sophia in the lower left corner of the shot. This shot shows the general layout of the quayside support infrastructure for the detsroyer flotilla. You can clearly see a road bisecting the dock area. On the right side of the road is the cargo handling strip. This freight handling strip was lotted as a 9x1 with a wide variety of props, and “dressed-out” with numerous 1x1, 1x2, and 1x3 modular lots. The angular machine shop building is actually a 3x2 lot with various props “dressing-out” the building. But it is surrounded by a mix of 1x1 modular lots that seamlessly blend it into the whole scene. This is another view of the same scene. If you look closely, you can see many instances where activity on one 1x1 lot seems to “spill over” into the adjacent lot. This is particularly noticeable on the lots just to the right of the Quonset Huts. This spill-over effect was achieved by rotating the 1x1 lots until the activity blended in with adjacent lots. This method creates large, cohesive scenes – while maintaining the flexibility of small modular lots. The same scene from a different angle. The freight is brought in by rail, unloaded trackside, then distributed to the various warehouses, huts, and work shops supporting the flotillas – and the cruiser berths on the opposite side of the tracks. In the early 1930’s, British destroyer designs were being surpassed by the new construction of other naval powers – the Germans, Italians, and Japanese in particular. To counter this trend, Royal Navy designers entertained the idea of a small light cruiser to combat enemy destroyers. But the tactical concept was unnecessarily complicated and quite beyond Britain’s peacetime budget. Instead, a faster and more powerful destroyer design with multiple tactical uses was settled upon. The Tribal Class destroyers were handsome vessels in their own right, with raked funnels and a clipper bow. They displaced 1,854 tons on a length of 377 feet, with a beam of 36 feet. They were well armed with 8x4.7-inch QF guns in four twin mounts and 4x21-inch torpedo tubes in a quadruple mount amidships – and capable of an amazing 36 knots. Tribal Class destroyers served from 1938 to 1963. Close examination of this highly detailed model is well worth the time. HMS Cossack is courtesy of @Barroco Hispano. In the top left of the picture, you can see Admiral Hipper arriving by train from from Berlin. The house directly across the road from the train is the Admiral’s quarters ashore. The dock at center is the Admiral’s private landing. Again, the construction of the scene is largely 1x1 modular pieces, with a 3x2 for the house. The woodlands are 1x1 custom-made Tree Filler lots, dressed out with @Girafe MMP work. In the foreground of the picture, you can see the docks and quayside facilities of the East Berthing Basin. At the top of the picture, two small boats from across the Inner Basin are approaching a destroyer dock. And across the main road is the Admiral’s compound. Same scene, different view. This view shows the Admiral’s landing and provides a good view of the cruiser docks in the East basin. This is a close-up of the Admiral’s landing. Anticipating Hipper’s return from Berlin, the motor launch on the starboard side of the landing has brought the Deputy Commander of Scouting Forces, Konteradmiral Levetzow, to meet the Admiral’s train. A “side party” of sailors has been mustered on the landing to greet him. The beautifully detailed motor launch is by “AP”. This is a much better view of the entire scene. The compound guard has been turned out to greet the Deputy Commander on his arrival and they have mustered on the approach to the landing. Out on the landing, the crew of Admiral Hipper’s steam launch has been mustered as a “side party”. A side party is an old tradition found in most navies – but especially in the Royal Navy. Any time a ranking officer comes aboard a warship, he is piped aboard and honored with a “side party”. It is purely a matter of naval protocol and courtesy – but it is just one of the privileges due to an officer of rank – and is not to be ignored. Early on in their existence, the Kaiserliche Marine adopted many customs from the Royal Navy – especially those of protocol. This is another view of the landing – this one showing the Admiral’s steam launch moored. This is an excellent view showing the details of the landing. The very stylish steam launch was provided courtesy of “Barroco Hispano” and is a classic example of their type. Most warships carried various styles and sizes of steam launches as part of their “ship’s boats” inventory, but the Admiral Commanding would have his own launch – usually larger and more plush – hoisted aboard the flagship for his own use. This launch was often referred to as the “Admiral’s Barge”. The landing is one of several old wooden piers modeled by @AP and is a work of art in its’ own right. The detail of the planking, pilings, and ladders is absolutely amazing, and the weathering is truly masterful. I added the light post, rope coils, barrels, and sailors. The landing has been lotted as a “free-standing” 1x2 lot that is placed on the flat harbor bottom with the end of the landing overhanging the “NBVC Seawall”. The Motor launch and steam launch props were added to the lot. Admiral Hipper was appointed to command 1st Scouting Group in 1913, at 50 years of age, and he had been at sea for the better part of 32 years. Dedicated to his profession, he could inevitably be found on the bridge, or in his cabin aboard ship. Along with his appointment as “Commander Scouting Forces”, Hipper inherited comfortable quarters ashore from the previous Commander (Admiral Bachmann) and found the need to rest or work from them from time to time. Life at sea, even for an admiral, can be hard and stressful. The quarters were also useful for entertaining visiting dignitaries, his squadron captains and their wives, and even the junior officers on occasion. Here you see the Admiral’s comfortable, two-story dwelling – large enough to billet his immediate aides and enlisted attendants. There is a comfortable dinning room with a small adjacent ballroom for formal occasions on the ground floor -- with just enough room for a kitchen tucked away in a corner. The third floor is partitioned-off for the Staff Officers and enlisted attendants. The second floor holds the Admiral’s sleeping quarters, with an outer office for the staff, and an inner office overlooking the harbor for the Admiral. The building is located on the east side of the Inner Basin ship channel, and the Admiral often takes breakfast on the terrace (when ashore). A short distance to the left is the Admiral’s landing. In this shot we see the Admiral stepping off the special train returning him from an Imperial Staff conference in Berlin. The train model consists of a locomotive, tender, and passenger car from the famous “20th Century Limited”. The express passenger service of the New York Central Railroad operated from 1902 to 1967, and ran between Grand Central Terminal in New York City and the LaSalle Street Station in Chicago. Stops along the route were rare – the coal tender was large enough for the trip, and water for the boiler was obtained while in motion using a scoop, dipped into special “track water pans” built into the roadbed. The First Class fare in 1927 was $51.30 – equivalent to $920.00 today. A private compartment was considerably more expensive. In 1938 the industrial designer Henry Dreyfuss designed the streamlined Art Deco rolling stock you see in the model. The locomotive under all that classy Art Deco look was a 4-6-4 “Hudson” built by American Locomotive Company (ALCO) in the Baldwin Locomotive Works – weighing 166 tons and capable of 124-mph. The phrase “red carpet treatment” was derived from “Limited” passengers boarding the train via a plush red carpet. The superb “20th Century Limited” – in all its streamlined glory -- is courtesy of @Barroco Hispano. (I had to work that into a naval base somewhere. Right next to battleships, I’m very fond of old steam trains.) Another view of the Admiral. His train, and his quarters. The 150-ton crane at left is borrowed from the “PEG SNM Dry Dock” lot. This is one last close-up of the modular nature of the lots. Everything in this picture is a 1x1, 1x2, or 1x3 custom-made modular lot. I have an untold number of modular lots in my plugins folder that are designed to be used in almost any situation. The Quonset Huts are the main focus of the scene, and they have individual props placed on their lots. But they take on a whole new look when they are surrounded by other modular lots. Suddenly they blend right into the scene and fit seamlessly into the activity of the surrounding lots. It’s as easy as assembling a jig-saw puzzle. You plop the Quonset Huts, then scroll through the menu and plop additional modular pieces into the scene – no need to stop and open Lot Editor to make a new lot for each and every scene. Simply assemble the new scene with jig-saw pieces. It’s quick, easy, and – I think – remarkably effective and realistic. NEXT TIME…… CUXHAVEN: THE PHOTO TOUR 14 MANY THANKS to @Barroco Hispano for his beautiful warship models. SPECIAL THANKS to my friend and partner, @AP, for his talents, meticulous models, colorful imagination, and extreme dedication. If you enjoyed anything – please punch the “like” button so WE will know. A comment would be even more informative. Comments and critiques requested and gratefully accepted. All questions answered promptly to the best of our ability. THANK YOU for your visit! You may wish to visit these CJ’s as well…… SERIES I: IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: WILHELMSHAVEN SERIES II: IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: CUXHAVEN Appearing – Work In Publication SERIES III: IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: BREMERHAVEN Appearing -- ??? And please feel free to drop in at… THE SIMTROPOLIS SHIPYARD https://community.simtropolis.com/forums/topic/761469-simtropolis-shipyard/?tab=comments#comment-1766496

IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: CUXHAVEN By: Dreadnought & AP Chapter 56: THE PHOTO TOUR 12 THE DRY DOCK Not all harbors have dry docks. There are large and busy harbors around the world that are strictly dedicated to commerce -- but well established ports are usually found with a government naval installation, and possibly a private maritime construction yard. Either of them will almost always have one or more reasonably modern dry docks and possibly more than one floating dry dock of medium to large size. Permanent in-ground dry docks are traditionally built by digging a hole along the shore line to a desired depth below sea level. The bottom and sides of the hole are usually lined and sealed with a suitably erosion resistant stone (often granite), with the seaward end closed off by swinging steel lock gates. (Think of it as a large bath tub with a door at one end.) A pumping system is used to either fill or empty the dock of seawater. Once the dock is full, the gates may be opened, and a ship can be brought into the dock. The pumping system then removes the water and repairs or maintenance may be preformed on the lower hull. When the work is done, the dock is again flooded and the ship can be returned to the sea. The concept behind the dry dock is quite simple and makes difficult work much easier. But permanent dry docks take up a lot of space, obviously cannot be moved, and are very expensive to build and properly equip. Sometime in the late 18th Century, the idea of a “floating dry dock” was proven to be feasible and by the mid-1800’s had come into common use. A floating dock was much cheaper to build than a permanent dry dock, and often cheaper than building a ship. The dock was built as a double-hull (similar to the double bottom on a ship) and had a flat bottom with high sides – but no ends. The double-hull construction allowed for tanks that could be flooded to submerge the dock. A ship was moved inside the submerged dock, the tanks were pumped dry, and the ship and dock were lifted above sea level. Repairs or maintenance was carried out, the dock was submerged again, and the ship floated out. Floating docks could be very elaborate, with machine shops, boilers to provide steam for pumping, and electric dynamos. The floating dock could be placed at any convenient location in the harbor, and had the advantage of being able to be towed from harbor to harbor as needed. The Imperial Navy considered them quite “hi-tech” for their day and built numbers of them to service their growing battle fleet. This is an overview of Cuxhaven’s single dry dock. This dock was capable of serious repair when necessary, but complicated or large repair jobs were meant to be carried out at either the builder’s yard, or the extensive specialist docks in Wilhelmshaven. Cuxhaven’s dock was largely for temporary emergency repairs, light modifications to onboard equipment, or simple bottom cleaning and painting. The latter job, alone, would considerably relieve the congestion in the Wilhelmshaven docks. As you can see, the dry dock basin has the lock gates in place – but it is full of water. At the time this part of the harbor was laid-out, we had not yet solved the conundrum of how to make a dry dock without water. We did eventually resolve that issue, but for the time being, you’ll have to let your imagination remove the water. 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 and low hills extend across the rear of the Cuxhaven naval base – as clearly seen on the right of this picture. I had been wanting to try my hand at mountain landscapes for some time – and watching the positive 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”. Once again, my THANKS to “The British Sausage” for his inspiration and encouragement. Looking at the above picture -- rail lines on the right side of the basin 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 right hand 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 left hand quay, 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 quay on the right has only rail access and the left 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 impressive 250-ton cranes are by @AP. Another view. On the left of the picture, you can see the mountain looming over the dry dock area. At the bottom of the picture you can see a “half flotilla” of Italian Leone Class destroyers graciously provided by @Barroco Hispano. This is a closer view of the “crane lines” on either side of the dry dock. Each of the “crane lines” are set up with one line working inside the basin and the other line working outside the basin. The dual crane line in the foreground is designed to bring in large prefabricated items – such as machinery or gun tubes. The large crane immediately behind it is positioned to take those items and work them onto the ship. The crane line on the opposite side is serviced by a rail line. The crane lines were assembled from a wide variety of props on a 12x2 lot. The concrete surfaces of the dry dock area are composed of textures from the “Paeng Grunge Concrete” lots, “PEG SNM Series”, and the “NBVC Container Port”. “NBVC Marinas” provided the seawalls, and the suitably weathered lock gates are, of course, by @AP. 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 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 from the “PEG Pier One Seaport”. The two white harbor steam tugs were “gifted” by “WolfZe”. 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). The powerful pumps housed underground are responsible for emptying the dry dock basin. The water towers were taken from the old “Maxis Reward Movie Studio”. The four water towers in the dry dock area actually have nothing to do with the operation of the dry dock -- they supply running water to the buildings and docks and are primarily for fire-fighting. 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 from rail flat cars onto 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 and preparing auxiliary engines – two of them to replace under-powered steering motors. It was not uncommon for naval architects to specify certain auxiliary engines (capstan engines, steering engines, ventilator fan motors) that proved to be under-powered and had to be replaced with engines/motors of greater horsepower. This is a close-up of the area where they are unloading the boilers. If you examine the picture closely, you will find a number of individual vignettes being acted out. There are sailors working on auxiliary engines, preforming winch maintenance, refurbishing anchors and, of course, unloading boilers from the train. These are the more common cylindrical-type boilers, rather than the angular, custom-made boilers used by the Kaiserliche Marine. (“AP” also included the angular version boilers in the prop pack.) When making the cylindrical boilers, we thought it would be interesting to include a bit or history. Everyone who has seen the movie, or seen any of the picture books, will be familiar with these boilers. You will notice there are three circular coaling doors on the front of the boiler, with detailed gauges – just like those on the RMS Titanic. 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”. This is a look at the rear areas of the dry dock facility. It is, appropriately, a small area, since the main work is done around the basin. The two warehouses were re-lotted from one of the “PEG Seaports. The fenced roadway along the rail line is from the “NBVC Container Port” kit. The remainder of the paved areas are “Paeng Grunge Concrete”. With the exception of the two warehouses and the Pumping Station”, the entire area was created using custom-made 1x1 and 1x2 modular lots – almost all of which are “standardized” and can be used in many other locations and scenes. 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: diagonal models!) This green storage shed is just one of the “perfect” storage buildings I stumbled across after a good deal of searching. This allowed me to seriously curtail the continued use of the “IRM” filler lots with shipping containers. (Since I found these sheds rather late in the map building process, you will still see the “IRM Shipping Containers”, but they were eventually phased out in all new “mapping”.) The storage shed and “balk” timber are from “SimCoug’s 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”. Here we have a close-up view of the back of the warehouses. This is a classic example of how much activity can be added to a scene by using custom-made modular lots. The warehouse sits on a 3x2 lot and has limited space for additional props, and hardly any room for vehicles. You could make the lot bigger and add all sorts of activity to it – but that would limit its usefulness, or it would become repetitive. By leaving the warehouse on the smaller lot with limited props, you can then use any number of different 1x1 lots to create scenes tied to the building. And here we have the masterpiece of the whole dry dock scene – repairs to Goeben’s turbines – in progress. (For background details, see Chapter 19.) 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. Admittedly – not a good angle, but there are many points of interest in the picture. You will notice there are sailors and workmen – both above deck and below. 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 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 “first” for SC4 – and if anyone deserves a “medal” – it is “AP”. He skillfully crafted this battlecruiser – then disassembled it and created this view down into the bowels of the ship. A truly commendable achievement. NEXT TIME…… CUXHAVEN: THE PHOTO TOUR 13 MANY THANKS to @Barroco Hispano for his beautiful warship models. SPECIAL THANKS to my friend and partner, @AP, for his talents, meticulous models, colorful imagination, and extreme dedication. If you enjoyed anything – please punch the “like” button so WE will know. A comment would be even more informative. Comments and critiques requested and gratefully accepted. All questions answered promptly to the best of our ability. THANK YOU for your visit! You may wish to visit these CJ’s as well…… SERIES I: IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: WILHELMSHAVEN SERIES II: IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: CUXHAVEN Appearing – Work In Publication SERIES III: IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: BREMERHAVEN Appearing -- ??? And please feel free to drop in at… THE SIMTROPOLIS SHIPYARD https://community.simtropolis.com/forums/topic/761469-simtropolis-shipyard/?tab=comments#comment-1766496

IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: CUXHAVEN By: Dreadnought & AP Chapter 55: THE PHOTO TOUR 11 THE INNER BASIN Most large harbors have something similar to an “Inner Basin” – especially in military/naval anchorages. This is a designated area where difficult or lengthy tasks are performed. These tasks could include repairs to a ship’s hull in a dry dock, or a simple bottom cleaning and painting job, also requiring a dry dock. Installation of new weapons systems – guns, or perhaps, fire control devices. Capital ships were constantly undergoing repairs to the engine condensers and replacement of the water tubes in their boilers. Even modernization of older warships can be a quite lengthy process. And, in addition to the regular “refit” and repair cycles of warships – construction slips were frequently found in the secluded Inner Basin. Since Cuxhaven was only a small harbor with limited facilities, only one permanent dry dock had been built for quick repair jobs or hull cleaning and, of course, there were no construction slips. In this overview, moving counter-clockwise from the Repair Docks, there is an Inner Basin tug station, with a minesweeping station just below that. And around the corner from the Minesweepers we have the large Munitions Pier. In the center bottom of the Basin is the single Dry Dock, with berths for two destroyer flotillas to the right. The Inner Basin tug station is one among many, but you may notice that each one is unique – either in composition or layout. Tug stations are a necessary working element of every harbor in the world – but they rarely get first crack at the “prime real estate”. All of the basic components should be familiar to you by now, but the layout has been improvised to fit the available space. The station can accommodate eight tugs at the piers, with berths for six more along the seawall. Since this is the only tug station inside the Inner Basin, it was imperative to have enough tugboats to handle the traffic to the Repair Docks, the Munitions Dock, and the tricky entrance and exit of the Dry Dock. The two white harbor steam tugs were gifted by “WolfZe”, while all the remaining tugboats are the impeccable work of @AP. The tug station from another angle. This gives you an excellent view of the basic layout of the station. The “Somy Tugboat Piers” are modified 2x1 lots with the overhanging pier props, the Quonset Hut is a custom-made 1x2, and the “control tower” is a 1x2 lot borrowed from the old Maxis Airports. The remainder of the base is composed of custom-lotted 1x1 modular pieces. This is a close-up of the details worked into the tiny tugboats. Researched for authenticity, the tugs are magnificent models of what every good tugboat should look like. These models would be useful in any harbor scene up through the 1960’s – and most especially in industrial scenes around oil refineries or bulk terminals for coal or grain. Top to bottom – Midgard, Thor, Passat, and Nordwind. (The models are available in “AP’s” Historic Harbors 1900 Series – Volumes 14 and 16). Simce I needed berthing space for additional tugs, I opted for “parking space” along the diagonal seawall which, otherwise, would have been useless space. I modified a diagonal section of the “NBVC Marina Seawalls” and double-nested the tugs on the new lot. The NBVC seawalls take a bit of “tinkering” to get the correct distance and height for the tug models, but the results are quite flexible and well worth the effort. Left to right, the diagonal models are – Passat, Odin, and Asgard – and are also available in the above mentioned prop packs. “AP” has gone to great lengths to try and provide as many diagonal models as possible – the “diagonals” provide more flexibility, authenticity for your harbors, and will greatly enhance your “grid-busting” efforts. MINE WARFARE Floating mines had been around since the 14th Century -- believed to have been introduced by Imperial China during the Ming Dynasty. But science and technology was unable to live up to the potential of an unmanned, floating, explosive device until some 500 years later. Explosive naval mines were “toyed” with during the Napoleonic Wars, and the Crimean War of 1854 actually produced some positive results. But it was not until the American Civil War (1861-1865) that floating mines (or “torpedoes”) became effective enough to sink warships with any degree of regularity. Over the centuries, every conceivable type of water-borne explosive device was tried. Some naval mines were “floating” -- either on the surface or just below the water – while others were placed on the seabed in water just deep enough for large ships. Some were detonated by a burning fuse, some by a clockwork mechanism connected to the workings of a flintlock weapon, and still others were detonated by an electric charge sent through an underwater cable from a storage battery ashore. It was not until the late Victorian Era that “contact” detonators (Hertz Horns) became practical. By 1904, the floating mine remained largely unproven in battle – but the Russo-Japanese War changed all that. Several ships on both sides were damaged by mines at one point or another during the brief conflict, but the Russians lost one battleship to mines, while the Japanese lost two of their six battleships, four cruisers, two destroyers, and a torpedo boat. The Russians may have started out with little experience in “offensive mining”, but they learned quickly. When war crept across Europe in 1914, the lessons of the Russo-Japanese naval conflict had been studied, digested, and transformed into military doctrine. Both Britain and Germany understood the concepts of “offensive” and “defensive” minefields; “offensive” mines were laid off enemy harbors and along their sealanes where ships could be sunk, while “defensive” mines were laid to protect one’s own harbors and sealanes against enemy intrusions. This seemingly simple and straightforward “mission statement” resulted in active mine warfare in the Mediterranean, the Baltic, and especially in the North Sea. Quite literally “millions” of mines were laid in hundreds of minefields scattered “willynilly” across the North Sea. Eventually, as protection against German submarines, the British laid massive mine barriers from Scapa Flow to Norway to close the north end of the North Sea, while an equally dense mine barrier closed the English Channel. Whether or not these millions of mines were actually effective has been debated for the last hundred-plus years, but the immediate problem in 1914 was how to remove enemy mines from your “sea space” to allow your own shipping and battle fleet to function. The answer to the problem was the creation of entire fleets of hundreds of small craft – “minesweepers” – to keep lanes “swept” and clear of mines to allow deployment of the battle fleets. And thus was born the concept of the “minesweeper”. This is Cuxhaven’s minesweeper station. You will notice it is larger than the usual tugboat station. The minesweepers are somewhat larger than the seagoing Passat Class tugs, and I wanted at least six vessels to represent a minesweeping force – so I had to add at least one more pier to the arrangement. In reality, the six large, deep-sea tugs would have been used as “flotilla leaders”, backed-up by 30 or 40 smaller vessels. The smaller vessels would have been deployed to either beam of the “leader” in one long line – or possibly two lines – one following the other. The British had a small force of purpose-built minesweepers in 1914, but they very quickly realized they did not have enough sweep vessels to deal with German mining activity. Every sort of small craft capable of deep water work was pressed into service – privately owned motor launches, river steamers, small English Channel packet steamers, and a bewildering variety of fishing vessels. (Eventually, a militarized version of the standard English fishing trawler was settled upon and built in mass quantities.) By the time I hit on the idea of including minesweepers in the CJ, it was too late to redesign the harbor to accommodate 40 or 50 minesweepers – so I settled on six vessels. The piers and steel sheds were modified and re-lotted from “Somy’s Japanese Tugs”. The pier is actually an overhanging prop, which makes it easy to “plop” any tugboat alongside. The Quonset Huts are from the “SNM Naval Series”, and are being used as one administrative office and two workshops. The barracks building is re-purposed from Mattb325’s “UC Sydney” lot, and is provided for the civilian crews contracted to operate the minesweepers under the direct supervision of a naval officer. The expanded size of the station and different layout would have been impossible if my tug stations had been modeled in a single, standardized lot. But the use of custom-made 1x1 and 1x2 modular lots provide a range of “mini-scenes” that can be used over and over in a variety of different situations – and they can be worked into whatever space you have available. I chose a model of the French steam tug Goliath (coutyesy of @Barroco Hispano) for use as a minesweeper “flotilla leader” because of its particular characteristics and historical background. Launched in 1903 from the Penhoet shipyard in Saint Nazaire, Goliath was a 1,200 ton ocean-going steam tug. She was approximately 160 feet in length, with 1,400-ihp triple-expansion engines capable of 13 knots. During the 1915 Allied attack on the Dardanelles, Goliath formed part of the support forces and actually doubled as a part-time minesweeper. Goliath, courtesy of “Barroco Hispano” is a superbly detailed model and a joy to behold. She has a small raised forecastle deck designed to reduce the amount of water taken over the bow in rough seas. Larger and more powerful than the average tug of her day, Goliath was used for ocean-going work as well as for heavy hauling. Conversion to minesweeping duties was relatively quick and easy. Minesweepers had heavy wire cables (called “paravanes”) permanently attached to the fore-foot for sweeping operations. The cables would be paid-out on either beam and a “Paravane Kite” was attached at the end, then lowered into the water. The “kite” is that greenish object on the aft deck, shaped like a torpedo with wings. As the sweeper gathered speed, the kite would glide below the surface at a designated depth and pull the cables out until they formed a large inverted “V” to either side of the sweeper. The paravane cables would cut the anchor cables on the mines, which then floated to the surface and were destroyed by rifle fire. Primitive, but effective. To the right of the Minesweeper Station, you see another “lighter basin”. Sometimes a lighter basin came about by accident – simply an empty spot off to one side where lighters could be “parked” to get them out of the way. You can see the crowded nature of the area – with the lighters squeezed in around the minesweepers. Occasionally a harbor was laid out with areas designated for lighter storage, but harbor space was usually scarce. As lighters collected in the basin, the Harbor Master ordered the installation of a few mooring dolphins to control the clutter, but it was not successful. The lighters in the center have simply been roped to one another and tied off on other lighters. Other lighters have been squeezed in at odd angles, and even an improvised floating crane for light cargo work has been left along the seawall. This shot provides an excellent look at the detail and texturing “AP” has built into each of these tiny gems. In this view, the harbor tug Odin has put a small boat in the water and they are hauling a tow line from the tug to the two large lighters on the left. The tug will eventually hook-up all four of the lighters and move them to the Munitions Dock. The four lighters are carrying “bagged powder charges”. We tried to make the bagged charges appear circular –as they are in real life -- but several attempts turned out unsatisfactory due to the small scale of the objects. So we settled on this arrangement. In the event of a minor accident, there are crewmen on each barge to see to the safety of the explosive cargo. (Of course, “no smoking” is permitted.) These little beauties are Esmeralda Class steam paddle tugs moored to “barrel buoys”. Steam Paddle tugs were used all over the world from the early Victorian Era right through to the mid-1950’s (and some even longer). Though not as powerful as more modern tugs, they were cheap to build and operate, carried small crews, and were the real workhorses of any harbor. If cargo lighters or sailing vessels needed to be moved, the ”paddlers” were the first choice. Thoroughly researched for authenticity, they were based on a WW I era English working tug. (See previous chapters for details.) The level of detail for these small vessels is simply magnificent. Each tug was plopped as a separate lot, as were the barrel buoys. The buoy lots were specifically designed to be plopped in front of any ship as desired. (The paddle tug props are available in AP’s “Historic Harbors 1900” series – Volume 12.) In Cuxhaven, the main Munitions Complex is set up with a connection to the main rail line and to the munitions distribution docks. Munitions can be brought to the storage bunkers either by rail or by sea, and are trans-shipped to the Munitions Docks for distribution. This is an overview of the distributions quays. Left to right you have the Italian heavy cruiser RM Zara, the US destroyer Clemson, and the battlecruiser KM Scharnhorst. You will note the rail line behind the quays has been arranged so that all three replenishment points can be accessed at the same time without traffic jams. This very fine model of Scharnhorst is provided courtesy of @Barroco Hispano and shows her as she would have appeared upon commissioning in January 1939: 32,100 tons – 31 knots – 9x11-inch guns – 12x5.9-inch guns – 14x4.1-inch AA guns – 16x1.5-inch AA guns – 6x21-inch torpedo tubes – belt armor 13.8 inches – 1 catapult and 3 Arado, Ar-196A-3 float planes. There has long been a debate as to whether Scharnhorst was a battlecruiser or a battleship – but her design was based on the final plans of the Imperial battlecruiser Ersatz Yorck, which was never completed. The pedigree seems clear enough to me – so I absolutely had to work her into the CJ somewhere! In essence – she was the last battlecruiser ever commissioned by the German Navy. She was armed with an “improved” 11-inch gun – for political reasons. In the mid-1930’s, it was feared 15-inch guns might cause the British to “get the wind up”. In this close-up of the dock activity, you can see the working parties unloading main gun ammunition from the shuttle locomotives to the quay for delivery to the warship. There are masses of people bustling about – unloading shells, checking them for imperfections, cleaning the rounds, and hauling them about with hand-trucks, or loading them into cargo racks to be hoisted aboard the battlecruiser. In real life, docks are seldom quiet places, and we have tried hard to recreate the hundreds of crew and working parties involved in servicing a capital ship. The docks are re-lotted from the “PEG SNM Series” Battleship Quays, and were constructed in three 11x3 sections – each section just large enough for one capital ship, or two smaller vessels. Since the whole structure would have been built at the same time, I did not make architectural changes to any of the dock sections – but altered some of the scenes and props on each one for variety’s sake. This is a rear view of the quayside. The large dockside cranes were borrowed from the “PEG Trash Removal” lots and resized to better fit the surrounding models. The 100 ton cranes trackside are by “AP”. The ammunition shuttle locomotives and “rolling stock” were modeled by “AP” from old pictures of equipment on German WW I period military railroads. The Great War would not have been possible without railroads. Artillery battery commanders, in particular, were shocked to find out just how many shells could be fired-off in only a few hours. Going into the war, the British thought they had enough reserve artillery ammunition to last through a “short war” – perhaps a year. More than half of it was expended in the first two weeks of actual combat. Military railroads were essential to keeping the vital artillery batteries properly supplied with ammunition. Various props have been used to “dress-out” the scene, but the many “specialized” props were created by “AP” – sailors, shells, etc, etc. Here a Clemson Class destroyer is preparing to take aboard a full load of torpedoes. The Clemson’s were a large class of destroyers built by the US Navy over a number of years. The early versions of the extended class served during WW I, while others were completed between the wars. Under the “Lend Lease” agreement, 20 Clemson’s were among the 50 US destroyers doing yeoman service with the Royal Navy in WW II. Characteristics: 1,215 tons – 35.5 knots – 4x4-inch guns – 1x3-inch AA gun -- 12x21-inch torpedo tubes – no armor. USS Clemson is by “Barroco Hispano”. The 100 ton cranes quayside and the 20 ton cranes trackside are by “AP”, as are the shuttle locomotives, rail cars, and torpedoes. This is the Italian heavy cruiser RM Zara: Commissioned 1931 – 11,326 tons – 32 knots_8x8-inch guns – 16x3.9-inch guns – 34 AA guns – 2 seaplanes – belt armor 5.9 inches. As with all Italian warships built or modernized between the wars, they were quite handsome, with sleek lines and high speed. She is preparing to top-off her magazines with 8-inch shells and powder charges. In this shot, you can see the powder charges in brass cases stacked in rows on the quayside. Next to them are the 8-inch shells – ready to be hoisted aboard and stowed in the magazines. Again, the shuttle engines and ammunition cars are by “AP”, along with the shell and powder stacks – and, of course – the sailors and 20 ton cranes. You will notice the large numbers of sailors and dock hands engaged in stacking and moving the shells, with others preparing them to be hoisted aboard the cruiser. Work details would have been sent ashore from the cruiser to speed up the process. This rear view of the quay gives a good view of the ammunition handling parties and the ammunition trains. NEXT TIME…… CUXHAVEN: THE PHOTO TOUR 12 MANY THANKS to @Barroco Hispano for his beautiful warship models. SPECIAL THANKS to my friend and partner, @AP, for his talents, meticulous models, colorful imagination, and extreme dedication. If you enjoyed anything – please punch the “like” button so WE will know. A comment would be even more informative. Comments and critiques requested and gratefully accepted. All questions answered promptly to the best of our ability. THANK YOU for your visit! You may wish to visit these CJ’s as well…… SERIES I: IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: WILHELMSHAVEN SERIES II: IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: CUXHAVEN Appearing – Work In Publication SERIES III: IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: BREMERHAVEN Appearing -- ??? And please feel free to drop in at… THE SIMTROPOLIS SHIPYARD https://community.simtropolis.com/forums/topic/761469-simtropolis-shipyard/?tab=comments#comment-1766496

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

SMS Roon and SMS Yorck riding at anchor in the Kieler Hafen – circa 1907. IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: CUXHAVEN By: Dreadnought & AP Chapter 06: EVOLUTION OF THE ARMORED CRUISER As the construction years 1902-1903 approached, the Reichsmarineamt continued to negotiate with the Reichstag over building funds in the forlorn hope they might be able to secure an increase. Tirpitz was keenly aware of the new armored cruisers being laid down by various foreign navies – and most especially – the numerous British armored cruisers entering service. Prinz Heinrich had been a step backward in the evolution of armament and protection, and the Prinz Adalbert’s had been little better. Many in the Naval High Command felt they could enter a conflict on even terms with any Continental navy, but in the case of Britain, they might be overwhelmed by sheer numbers of cruisers. And since they could not build more ships than Britain – they must build better ships. But the Reichstag could not be moved, and the follow-on class of cruisers would have to be designed with marginal improvements at best. ROON CLASS ARMORED CRUISERS Armored cruiser SMS Roon anchored in Hampton Roads during the Jamestown Exposition celebrations of 1907. Under the auspices of the Second Naval Law of 1900, two cruisers were designed in 1901 and laid down in 1902 and 1903. SMS Roon was funded under the provisions of the replacement terms of the law, and was temporarily named Ersatz Kaiser since the old ironclad was to be scrapped. Roon was later christened in honor of Generalfeldmarschall, Count Albrecht von Roon (1803-1879) and laid down first at the Kaiserwerft, Kiel. SMS Yorck was laid down later, at Blohm & Voss, Hamburg. The Roon Class was, indeed, an incremental improvement upon their predecessors, the Prinz Adalbert Class. The only item of interest was a slightly longer hull to accommodate the addition of two boilers. But there was, actually, so little difference between the two classes that they could only be told apart by their funnels – the Roons had added a fourth funnel to accommodate the exhaust from the increase in boilers. SMS Yorck making a transit of the Kaiser Wilhelm I canal – circa 1907. The Roon Class ships displaced 9,382 tons, were 419 feet in length, and made only 21.1 knots on trials. They were built with the standard transverse and longitudinal framing, with a hull of riveted steel plates, and consisted of twelve watertight compartments and a double bottom running 60% of the ship’s length. The hull form was identical to the Prinz Adalbert Class, and like them, the Roon’s were good sea boats and stable gun platforms. When the coal bunkers were full, the ships had only a gentle pitch or roll motion and responded quickly to helm orders. The cruisers were manned by 35 officers and 598 enlisted men. SMS Roon Class – plan Profile. Roon and Yorck retained the same propulsion plant as the preceding class, but were powered with sixteen coal-fired Durr water-tube boilers with a total of 48 fire boxes. The boiler uptakes were trunked into four funnels. During this particular period of naval architecture, the technology usually produced multiple funnels on ships with high horsepower and greater speed. Kaiser Wilhelm II fancied himself something of a naval architect, and frequently dashed off a sketch of a cruiser or battleship and asked the design office to put together a study. It was widely known he was overly fond of designs with multiple funnels – the theory being that more funnels made the ship look “faster”. (I believe the French hold the “funnel record” for their 1907-1908 Edgar Quinet Class of armored cruisers – 6 funnels.) In any event, the ships were designed with the addition of two boilers, and the designers hoped to boost the speed of the new ships by up to 5 knots. But the engineering calculations were flawed, and Roon only reached 21.1 knots on trials. Yorck’s internal arrangements were slightly altered before launch, resulting in only 20.4 knots. (This was a reoccurring problem with ships launched a year apart. The last ship is always modified during construction, thereby adding weight – usually resulting in slower speed.) SMS Roon 01 In the picture above, SMS Roon has just returned from a long Atlantic training cruise with a shipload of Naval Cadets. With most of the fresh food long ago consumed, Kapitan zur See Karl Zimmermann requested immediate replenishment. Here you see a Nordwind Class tug (left) and a Passat Class tug (right) nudging the cruiser into her berth to take on stores. The Nordwind is an older (1890’s) seagoing tug commonly found doing harbor, river, and inshore work with larger ships. The Passat Class is an improved version built by a division of the Norddeutscher Line. The Passat’s more powerful engines are capable of handling large warships and dealing with Norddeutscher’s big ocean liners in the nearby Hamburg terminal. The Imperial Navy leases civilian tugs and crews because it’s cheaper than building them, and manning them with sailors would reduce the trained manpower available to the fleet (a continual problem). The cruiser, tugs, lighters, and mooring dolphins are the splendid work of @AP. Both Roon and Yorck had a main battery of four, now-standard, 8.3 inch SK-L/40 (QF) guns mounted in twin “DrL C/01 turrets -- hydraulically operated -- one fore and one aft. A total of 380 armor-piercing shells were carried. The standard secondary battery was adhered to, with ten 5.9 inch SK-L/40 (QF) guns in casemates and turreted-casemates, arranged amidships in the usual “slab-sided pyramid” configuration. For torpedo boat defense, fourteen 3.5 inch SK-L/35 (QF) guns were mounted amidships, on either beam, in casemates and open mounts with shields. Unfortunately, the casemate guns continued to be placed a deck too low and were frequently awash. This close-up shows the detail built into the models. The tug Nordwind (left) is conspicuous in having an open bridge and no wheelhouse. This was common in early harbor tugs. And if you look closely, you can see the big towing winch and hawser bollards on the fantail. The Passat (right) shows a much more modern version, with a more powerful towing rig and an enclosed bridge. Both tugs have twin funnels indicating more boilers and more horsepower. Note the level of detail on SMS Roon – the planks in the deck – individual portholes – the thwarts in the small boats – superb rigging – even the soot stains on the funnels – and all historically accurate, right down to the spray shields on the bridge wings. In this view you get a good look at the Replenishment Pier. It is a “PEG-Pier One Seaport modified to conform a bit better to the “period” naval harbor. I took the individual sections and placed WMP-seawalls on the outer portions. The seawalls greatly resemble timber caissons and make good “bumpers” for the big ships. I deleted some of the cargo that was too modern and replaced it with props more suitable for the time period. In the top left you see a Midgard Class harbor tug standing by to warp a lighter full of barrels into the pier once it’s vacant. The lighters, mooring dolphins, tugs, and cruiser are all by “AP”. SUBMERGED TORPEDO TUBES -- ?? This is an excellent and rare view of a bow mounted submerged torpedo tube. The ship is SMS Scharnhorst in the floating dry dock at Tsingtao, China. You can see the opening for the torpedo tube in a “notch” in the hull below the ram bow. Obviously you, more or less, had to “aim the ship” to aim the torpedo. As was customary for ships of the period, the Roons had four 17.7 inch torpedo tubes submerged in the hull -- one in the bow and stern, and one on each broadside (typically just forward of the “A turret” shell handling room). The standard torpedo of the Kaiserliche marine was the “C/03” – carrying a 325 lb warhead – a suitable size for the era. The torpedoes, however, left something to be desired. At a speed of 31 knots, the torpedo was much more likely to hit a target that would not have time to take evasive action. But the speed shortened the fuel burn time, and it was only good for about 1,300 yards. To close a target to less than thirteen hundred yards might be acceptable to a torpedo boat captain -- with nerves of steel – but it was totally unacceptable to a cruiser captain. The torpedo could be set to a longer range of about 3,200 yards at 26 knots – but the longer the range – the more doubtful the result. So the question becomes -- why would you put submerged torpedo tubes on cruisers or battleships? Neither of those ships would close a similar ship to such close range – unless the target ship was already too badly damaged to represent a threat. In which case, it would be better to send a torpedo boat to finish off the target than to pull a battleship out of the battle line, or a cruiser from the screening force. Besides the dubious reasoning for submerged torpedo tubes in heavy ships, their presence aboard the big ships would later be revealed as potentially deadly liabilities. https://i.imgur.com/lNXcO8Q.png[/im Roon Class armored cruisers – armor distribution diagram. The darkened areas show where the Krupp armor has been placed to protect the ship. Perhaps more importantly, it shows you where the armor has NOT been placed. As you can see, there are large portions of the ship, both above and below the waterline, with NO armor. These are the areas designers so casually refer to as “the unarmored portions of the ship”. Both Roon and Yorck were armored with Krupp Cemented steel. The waterline belt was 3.9 inches amidships, tapering to 3.1 inches at bow and stern – a much better choice than leaving the ends unarmored. (Even a waterline near miss by a 12 inch gun could cause serious splinter damage and flooding.) The belt was further backed by 2.2 inches of teak planking to reduce splinter damage. The side armor around the casemates and casemated turrets was also 3.9 inches. The protected armor deck ranged from 1.6 to 2.4 inches, with the thicker areas covering the magazines, boilers, engines, and steering gear – with sloping sides of 2 inches connecting to the bottom of the belt. The forward conning tower was 5.9 inches, while the aft control position was only plated with 3.1 inches as protection against shell splinters. The main battery turrets were 5.9 inches with a 1.2 inch roof, while the secondary turrets were plated with 3.9 inch sides and 3.1 inch gun shields. This was, on balance, a better distribution of armor than in recent designs – and certainly as good as could be expected with a 9,300 ton displacement. Another view of the tug Midgard standing by a covered lighter and two lighters stacked with barrels. Deck hands from the tug have crossed over to the covered lighter and are busy making the outboard lighter fast to the others. “AP” has made Midgard to look just as she should – an old working lady that has seen better days, but still gets the job done. Note the weathered look of the hull and the worn canvas of the wheelhouse roof. Her yellow funnel has gone dingy from coal soot, and her decks are worn and stained from years of working. She is a perfectly proportioned, working, “piece of art”. The lighters are patterned after hundreds of such vessels found in European rivers and harbors, in one form or another, even to this day. We looked through dozens of pictures as well as drawing inspiration from the craft we saw in real life. And “AP” has faithfully recreated them for Sc4. This shot even gives you an excellent view of the mooring dolphins. Of the two ships, SMS Yorck commissioned first, in November of 1905, and upon completion of sea trials, was assigned to 1st Scouting Group of the Hochseeflotte in March, 1906. In April of 1906, SMS Roon joined 1st Scouting Group as well, and the following month Vizeadmiral Gustav Schmidt hoisted his flag aboard her. She served as flagship 1st Scouting Group for the next two years. With the exception of a 1907 Atlantic crossing by Roon to participate in the United States’ Jamestown Exposition, the two cruisers were pretty much occupied with the routine of peacetime training exercises. Sometimes it was scouting group training, or Atlantic cruises with portions of the battle fleet, and there were always the annual Fall Fleet Maneuvers. Roon was decommissioned in September 1911, her duties being taken over by the new battlecruiser SMS Moltke. In March 1913, during a training exercise, the torpedo boat S-178 attempted to “cut the line” (Crossing from one side of the battle line to the other by cutting between the big ships.). The tiny ship misjudged the speed and distance and Yorck rammed and sank her. The armored cruiser was decommissioned shortly thereafter, with her crew being transferred to commission SMS Seydlitz. A full length close-up showing the hull lines and details of Roon’s superstructure. Overview of Replenishment Pier and Roon – different angle. The landscape to the right of the picture is a combination of 1x1 “custom-made” Tree Filler Lots, MMP work, and “Heblem Sands”. The Tree Filler Lots have a mish-mash of various tree props from my “prop-box”, but the MMP work is almost entirely by @Girafe – his stuff is the BEST! Close-up detail – bow. Close-up detail – stern. Here you see VizeAdmiral Gustav Schmidt transferring his flag from SMS Roon to SMS Yorck. Roon has been detached for her voyage to the United States, and Yorck will be serving as 1st Scouting group flagship until her return. Here you can see the Admiral’s steam launch tied off at the boat boom and the off-watch crew is paraded on the forecastle deck. The Admiral and Kapitan zur See Arthur Tapken are saluting, and just behind the Admiral is the ship‘s Navigation Officer, Leutnant Erich Raeder. Shortly, a signal gun will be fired from amidships and the Admiral’s flag will be broken-out at the masthead. Another view from astern. SMS Yorck moored at a “barrel buoy” just off the dry docks of the Howaldtswerk Shipyard in the Kieler Hafen – circa 1910. Following the outbreak of war in July 1914, both ships were mobilized and assigned to 3rd Scouting Group which was attached to the Hochseeflotte. The 1st Scouting Group sortied on a raid against Yarmouth in November, and the Hochseeflotte sailed as distant support. Roon and Yorck were scouting ahead of the main battle fleet. The ships arrived back off Wilhelmshaven on the night of 3 November, but encountered heavy fog, making it impossible to take visual bearings – thus preventing them from being able to locate the swept channels through the defensive minefields. Rather than risk the channels, the fleet anchored in Schillig Roads to await daylight. Around 03:30, Yorck’s Kapitan zur See Pieper thought visibility had improved sufficiently, and began preparations to get underway. The Harbor Pilot refused to attempt passage through the minefields under the still foggy conditions, but Pieper proceeded regardless. At 04:10 Yorck struck a mine and started to turn away, striking a second mine. The cruiser went down quickly and the coastal defense battleship Hagen was only able to pick up 381 men – including Pieper. A cruiser and 252 men were lost. Needless to say, Pieper was court-martialed and served two years in prison for his negligence and disobedience to orders. A view of the starboard side. If you examine the stern, you’ll see the “Admiral’s Walk” just beneath the flag. Both Roon and Yorck were built for service as “flagships”. In the stern of the ship, on the main deck, there are additional cabins for the Admiral’s staff (usually 11), and just aft of them, right in the stern, there are spacious accommodations for the admiral. There is room for his desk and working space, comfortable chairs for visitors, a large table for dining with staff or ship’s officers, a smaller private sleeping compartment, and private facilities for bathing and other – uuuh – necessary things. (Admiral’s must preserve their dignity at all times.) If he just wants to stretch his legs, or get some fresh air, he can step through a watertight door onto the “Admiral’s Walk”. Most admirals try not to disturb the smooth operation of the ship. An admiral appearing on deck is a bit like a sudden thunder-clap. Men drop what they’re doing and jump to attention – young officer’s knees begin to shake – and everything within his sight comes to a screeching halt. The “Admiral’s Walk” is a lot less disturbing – and much more private for the admiral. In December 1914, Roon participated in the Bombardment Of Scarborough, Hartlepool, and Whitby as flagship 3rd Scouting Group. They were to provide a reconnaissance screen for the main battle fleet acting in support of the bombardment force. A British battle squadron from the Grand Fleet, with the 1st Battlecruiser Squadron, had been sent to intercept the raiders, but missed the bombardment force and very nearly stumbled into the main body of the Hochseeflotte. Roon actually made contact with the British destroyers Lynx and Unity, but no shots were exchanged. Shortly thereafter, Admiral von Ingenohl ordered the battle fleet to disengage and set course for Wilhelmshaven. Another view of Yorck. That’s a scratch-built “Jupiter Class” collier on the right – more about her in the next chapter. But you can get a fair appreciation of the elaborate detail “AP” has built into her. Notice the two funnels placed side-by-side – a rare sight on seagoing ships. Soon after that operation, it was decided the older cruisers of the 3rd Scouting Group were too slow and lightly armored to face the guns of the Grand Fleet, and they were assigned to Reconnaissance Forces Baltic. Roon participated in the bombardment of Libau on 7 May, then took part in sorties into the central Baltic as far north as Gotska Sandon on five different occasions in May and June, 1915. In July she fought in the Battle Of The Aland Islands, engaging the Russian armored cruisers Bayan and Rurik and several light cruisers and destroyers. The Russians hit Roon several times, and being outnumbered, she and Lubeck were forced to retire. The cruiser also participated in the series of actions in the Gulf Of Riga Campaign, later in the year. Close-up detail of Yorck – bow angle. But cruiser losses were mounting in the Baltic – especially from Russian mines – and most especially from the activity of British submarines. In January, 1916, it was decided the older cruisers were too poorly protected against mines and torpedoes, and Roon was ordered to Kiel and decommissioned on 4 February. In November, 1916, she was disarmed and converted to a training and accommodation ship – a function she preformed until 1918. In November of 1920, she was stricken from the Naval Register and scrapped the following year. THE GERMAN PARADOX HMS Achilles – a Warrior Class armored cruiser - 1906. While the Kaiserliche Marine was commissioning the two Roon Class armored cruisers into the Hochseeflotte, the Royal Navy was just beginning to commission the new Warrior Class of armored cruisers. The British had started in the 1890’s with a clear strategy of protecting their sea lanes with a swarm of armored cruisers. By 1900, they had decided the cruisers had to be big enough, and powerful enough, to preform either alone on foreign duty stations, or in support of the battle fleet. (Most other navies preferred smaller and lighter cruisers on colonial stations.) By 1906, the British had 29 armored cruisers in service or laid-up in reserve, with the most powerful vessels assigned to the Home Fleet. The exact number of armored cruisers in the Home Fleet varied considerably -- due to maintenance, training tasks, and detached temporary duty -- but it was usually eight. Across the North Sea, it was also around 1906, that reality set in. The Kaiserliche Marine finally came to the unalterable conclusion that Britain was going to be their principal enemy in any future war in Europe. And Tirpitz was building a fleet that could either be used as a political tool, or an instrument of war. It was really rather obvious – at least to the British. Germany was allied by treaty to both the Austro-Hungarian Empire and Italy – so their fleets could be ruled out as an enemy. The Russian fleet was still in a shambles after the Russo-Japanese War. The French would have to devote most of their naval strength to holding the Mediterranean against Austria and Italy – and protecting their colonial possessions nearest to Europe. AND – Germany was confident the Army could be counted upon to deliver victory in a European land war. So that leaves only Britain – and that would be a naval war any way you played it. The Hochseeflotte had already commissioned 15 pre-dreadnought battleships by 1906, and were building more. But their armored cruisers were, perhaps, more indicative of the entire naval situation. And if you were in the Imperial Naval Office, or a seagoing officer, the simple arithmetic was enough to drive you to drink. The Kaiserliche Marine possessed only six armored cruisers, with two more on the building slips – and one of those was permanently stationed in the Far East. Cruiser to cruiser – the Imperial fleet was outnumbered 5 to 1. But that wasn’t the worst of it. It took several years for the Imperial Naval Office to face the reality that they shouldn’t be building cruisers designed for foreign duty stations, rather than for specific use against Britain’s Home Fleet. Foreign duty cruisers were usually smaller, slower, and lighter-gunned – because they weren’t likely to run into a battleship, or even two enemy cruisers at the same time. But part of the dilemma went back to -- not enough ships – not soon enough – and all as cheaply as possible. The new Naval Laws had guaranteed one new cruiser per year – but the Reichstag had demanded a cost ceiling on all ships – and Tirpitz had provided them. The State Secretary of the Navy had surely been aware that costs would rise with each successive ship. Two ships in the same class, laid down one year apart, often resulted in a higher cost for the second ship. But Tirpitz also knew the Reichstag didn’t want to hear that. So he “low-balled” the original negotiations. Rather than continuing to fight for more money, Tirpitz instructed the naval constructors to stay within a few thousand Goldmarks of the original estimates. This pinch-penny approach to ship design and construction had far-reaching consequences. The first two classes of pre-dreadnought battleships had been armed with 9.4-inch guns!! The last class, Braunschweig, had made the jump to 11-inch guns – but were still smaller than those mounted in other navies. Naval analysts have long complained that German ships were notoriously under-gunned – and with good reason. Later, Tirpitz would balk at the idea of going to 12-inch guns – largely due to the cost. It cost thousands of Goldmarks for a single gun tube. So increasing the number of guns added cost to the ship. The increase to 11-inch guns had cost tens of thousands to design, build, test, and perfect the new gun. When the time came to seriously consider a 12-inch gun to oppose Britain’s 13.5-inch weapon – the cost would have to be deducted from other design features of the ship. Or – Tirpitz would have to go to the Reichstag and beg for the money. The general result – especially in cruisers -- was to avoid more guns, and keep them small and inexpensive. Speed was another disparity between British and German cruisers. The average Royal Navy cruiser could make 23 knots. The “fast” German cruisers were only capable of 20 or 21 knots. Germany could build bigger engines – they were good at that. But bigger engines meant they needed more room, and that meant a longer hull. The bigger engines needed more boilers to provide steam – more room – and an even longer hull. And an even higher cost – more money from the Reichstag. Underwater protective measures against mines and torpedoes were nonexistent. (This point is also true of the British.) There was precious little known about the effects of mine explosions on ship’s hulls – and even less was understood about the lethal qualities of torpedoes. Building in extra armor protection, or inner hull void spaces to absorb the blast, was little understood and would have added considerably to the cost. There is an old anecdote told about Jackie Fisher (probably untrue) that when asked about defense against mines, he simply said...”Don’t run over the bloody things!” Armor protection on British cruisers was not exactly “first-rate” -- largely due to the need to achieve higher speed. And cruisers were never meant to be armored like a battleship. But the average British cruiser weighed-in about 4,500 tons heavier than their German counterparts. Part of that was the propulsion plant, but a sizable chunk went to armor. The British waterline belt averaged 6 inches to the German’s 3.9 inches. AND – more armor requires more horsepower to attain the speed – and yet more armor to cover the longer hull needed for the engines and boilers. It was a vicious circle – one thing just naturally led to another. SMS Roon – leading ship of the 3rd Scouting Group (scouting group astern – out of picture) as she follows the Hochseeflotte on one of the early sorties in 1914. Roon’s scouting group will form the rear guard of the battle fleet. The 1st Scouting Group is in the van (lead) of the fleet – and the 2d Scouting Group is deployed as “the point”. The upshot of the whole thing was that virtually all of the Imperial Navy’s armored cruisers were no match for the big British cruisers operating in the North Sea. During the early months of The Great War at sea, the armored cruisers were formed into the 3rd and 4th Scouting Groups and went about their assigned duties as the scouting screen for the lumbering battleships of the Hochseeflotte. The 1st Scouting Group was composed of more modern vessels and became the offensive arm of the battle fleet. In early 1915, all the old armored cruisers were transferred to the Cruiser Force Baltic where they could still do good work against the Russians. And they fought bravely and well – but eventually, their vulnerability to mines and torpedoes in the narrow sea forced the Oberkommando der Marine to withdraw them from active service in 1916. The Prinz Adalbert and Roon Class armored cruisers were the oldest to go to war in 1914, and they brought to mind an interesting side note on the early months of the war. Britain’s ultimatum to Germany expired at midnight on 4 August 1914, and within a matter of days the British Expeditionary Force (B.E.F.) of one cavalry and four infantry divisions was landed on French shores. They were ordered to concentrate along the Belgian border near the town of Maubeuge. No one had the least idea of what awaited them as they marched toward their assembly area, and the story of the B.E.F.’s heroic struggle to halt the German Juggernaut has become legendary. But by November 1914, the British had settled in to defend the area around Ypres, Belgium. This was still the time before trenches dominated the battlefield. Private Herbert de Hamel belonged to “The London Scottish”, a “territorial” regiment (reservists). They were recruited from the clerks, bookkeepers, and accountants of “The City” – the business district of London…… “...the Germans advanced at a steady walk, falling as they came. Fire spat out from their line of rifles – no sounds – no shouts – only their crackling rifles. Bullets cut through the hedge in front of us – slapped into the earthen bank behind us – and all the while we fired back. We fired as fast as we could and aimed each shot. We wiped the sweat from our eyes – and shot. Shells from the German’s 77mm guns fell among our fellows, threw dirt on everyone – and we kept shooting. But after a while, there were no more Germans walking toward us……” The following morning the London Scottish were still there – blackened with powder smoke, covered in mud and dirt, their kilts in tatters – but the Germans had been stopped. Among the wounded was a shipping clerk named Ronald Colman – hit in the ankle by shrapnel -- and lamed. Though he limped thereafter, the wound saved his life and he was invalided home – unfit for further duty. But he learned to walk so the limp was almost unnoticeable and went on to become one of Hollywood’s greatest movie stars – as did three of his regimental mates – Basil Rathbone, Herbert Marshall, and Claude Rains. War is full of ironic bits – even a few for you old movie buffs out there... NEXT TIME…… LAST OF THE GERMAN ARMORED CRUISERS AND… WE HAVE TWO PROP PACKS FOR YOU... Volume 06 – Prinz Adalbert Class Armored Cruisers Volume 07 – Furst Bismarck Class Armored Cruisers MANY THANKS to @Barroco Hispano for his generously given time and talent creating so many beautiful warships. There are some really beautiful models coming up. A SPECIAL “THANKS” to my partner -- “@AP” -- for his considerable talents and valuable time. The Cuxhaven Series would have been utterly impossible without him. I DO HOPE you are enjoying these chapters – 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