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SMS Konig – lead ship of a class of four – Grosser Kurfurst, Markgraf, Kronprinz – they were the most modern Imperial dreadnought battleships at the Battle of Jutland, 31 May 1916. Konig led the powerful III Battle Squadron in the van of the Hochseeflotte and suffered the most damage of all the German battleships. IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: CUXHAVEN By: Dreadnought & AP Chapter 40: IF THE TRUTH BE TOLD... With the damaged ships repaired, all traces of the traumatic battle were, for the most part, erased. But it took months of time and countless man-hours worked around the clock to make that happen. When the last rivet was hammered home and the last coat of paint applied, The Great War at sea returned to pretty much what it had been before the Battle of Jutland. But what remained was a question that has been contested by naval officers and debated by historians for over a century: Who won the Battle of Jutland? And the controversy surrounding this over-simplified question began almost as soon as the first returning ship’s anchor touched the seabed. At noon on 2 June, German authorities issued a press release claiming victory -- including sinking a British battleship, two battlecruisers, two armored cruisers, a light cruiser, a submarine, and several destroyers. (The claims are, of course, inaccurate – but probably honest. In confused battles it is possible to make such mistakes.) The statement also admitted to the loss of SMS Pommern and Wiesbaden (a pre-dreadnought battleship and a light cruiser). The scuttling of Lutzow, Elbing and Rostock was unknown to the British and withheld as a matter of military intelligence. The “Victory of the Skagerrak” was lauded in the press, school children were given a holiday, and the whole nation celebrated. The Kaiser addressed the fleet on 5 June, proudly showering “his” navy with Iron Crosses and announcing a new chapter in world history...”the magic of Trafalgar has been broken”. (The Imperial government originally claimed a victory on the basis of being the smaller battle fleet, while sinking more ships than the British. Post-war official Germany chose to hail the battle as a victory, and continued to celebrate it until the late 1960’s. The “Skaggerak Victory” was mainly used as a means to suppress the disgraceful memory of the German naval mutiny of 1918-1919, as well as a means to salvage wounded pride after defeat in World War I). His Majesty Kaiser Wilhelm II addresses the assembled officers of the Hochseeflotte from the deck of SMS Grosser Kurfurst (just aft of “B” turret). It should be noted he is wearing the uniform of a Grosseadmiral – complete with red sea boots and the “baton” of a GrosseAdmiral. He was overjoyed to think he had beaten the mighty Royal Navy. (A detail from a Claus Bergen painting.) In Britain, the first news came from boasting German wireless broadcasts..."The result of the fighting is a significant success for our forces against a much stronger adversary". Then, warships began to arrive in British ports, many damaged – some heavily and visibly -- and their crews had stories to tell. Slowly, the British public began to realize the Royal Navy had not delivered a “second Trafalgar”, and quickly became suspicious and angry as the Admiralty remained ominously silent. The government considered suppressing the news, but realized this was no longer possible. Late evening on 2 June, the Admiralty released a rather laconic statement containing nothing more than the losses on each side. The following day, based on that communique, British newspapers reported a German victory -- and the British population was thunder-struck. On 3 June, the Admiralty issued a statement expanding on German losses – with another the following day making grossly exaggerated claims. But they were far too late and no one believed the exaggerated claims anyway. At this point, it must be remembered both Britain and Germany had lavished billions in taxpayer funds on their battle fleets, and a victory (even a conditional one) was needed to justify those expenditures. But -- in an even more tragic development, the wrath of the British public would be shifted onto the Army when July brought horrific losses at the Battle of the Somme. However – there is some justification for both sides at Jutland to claim a victory, of one sort or another. For the Kaiserliche Marine there were several points in their favor: (1) The loss tables (previous chapter) clearly demonstrated the Germans sank more ships than did the British. The 99 ships of the Hochseeflotte sank 117,000 tons of British warships, while the 151 ships of the Grand Fleet sank only 63,000 tons of German warships. (2) It can be argued the Germans sank three modern battlecruisers for the loss of only one of their own. (The loss of Pommern was of no great consequence. It was certainly sad and tragic – but the pre-dreadnought battleship was obsolete, of little combat value, and had no business being at Jutland.) (3) All damaged German ships were repaired and returned to service with the fleet. (4) The British had been prevented from achieving a decisive victory comparable to Trafalgar. (5) The Germans had preserved their battle fleet and Alfred Thayer Mahan’s strategic doctrine of “a fleet in being”. (6) An intact Hochseeflotte in the Jade discouraged the British from making amphibious landings on the German coast – either the North Sea or the Pomeranian beaches of the Baltic. (7) Scheer’s withdrawal from the battle was not viewed as a mark of defeat. The Admiralstab had always known Britain’s margin of superiority was too great to challenge in a stand-up fleet engagement. When surprised by Jellicoe, Scheer merely followed strategic doctrine and withdrew in the face of superior numbers. However, the destruction of 3 British battlecruisers could be considered an “ambush victory”. (The very thing Jellicoe had warned Beatty against.) (8) By mid-1916, German leadership (including the Kaiser) had begun to think in terms of a “negotiated” peace. A largely intact Hochseeflotte would be a powerful bargaining chip at the negotiating table. Scheer’s withdrawal at Jutland preserved that option. SMS Von der Tann as she would have appeared circa 1915. Von der Tann was the first “Grosse Kreuzer” commissioned into the Kaiserliche Marine and the progenitor of the “so-called” battlecruisers of the Imperial Navy. She was, in fact, the first warship to demonstrate the successful merger between the large cruiser and the battleship – the “fast-battleship”. The detail in this superb 3-D graphic is well worth careful examination. On the British side: (1) The “risk theory” was discounted. Admiral Tirpitz had built the Hochseeflotte based on the “risk theory”. He hoped to build enough battleships to threaten the British with unacceptable losses -- possibly reducing Britain to a second or third class naval power. At Jutland, British capital ships outnumbered the Germans nearly 2 to 1. The British were not the ones “at risk” – the Germans were. So much for the “risk theory”. (2) The Germans failed in their tactical objective of destroying a substantial portion of the Grand Fleet. (Though sinking three battlecruisers is a pretty good start.) (3) The British prevented the Germans from breaking the economic blockade of Germany, which would eventually strangle their “home front” and bring the war to a close in late 1918. (4) The Royal Navy maintained control of the sea lanes, exercising Alfred Thayer Mahan’s dictum of “sea control” to Britain’s fullest benefit – while Germany was confined to the Heligoland Bight and the Baltic Sea. HMS Lion leading the “Splendid Cats” into battle. Based on the facts, and in light of subsequent actions by the British and German fleets, it is obvious there was no clear-cut victor. In this instance, both the Grand Fleet and the Hochseeflotte could claim to have partially satisfied their objectives – notably without crippling losses. The Germans clearly won a “tactical” victory. Everything they accomplished had either limited political ramifications, or was directly tied to the operation of a battle fleet at a tactical level. The Imperial battlecruisers were magnificent weapons superbly handled by Hipper, and accounted for all three capital ships lost by the British. German gunnery, as a whole, was far superior to that of the British. The battle line of the Hochseeflotte was a tight and well-controlled formation that responded quickly to command signals. And through it all, the various German squadrons worked in close cooperation with one another. The British lost the “tactical” Battle of Jutland for a number of reasons. Beatty and his battlecruisers managed to perform brilliantly in the last few minutes before the battleships opened fire on one another – but those were the only few minutes. Early in the battle, Beatty nullified the advantage of longer range guns by allowing Hipper to close to a range suited to him – and then open fire first. Then he threw away his greatest advantage in failing to coordinate his two squadrons (only ten ships) during “the run to the south” and “the run to the north”. And after Scheer’s second “battle turn away” he failed to reestablish contact with the enemy. At age 57, Jellicoe was undoubtedly a creature of the Victorian Era navy. Regardless of his innate intelligence and abundance of technical knowledge, he and his captains were finely crafted products of the rigid and class-conscious hierarchy of the Royal Navy. None above the rank of captain could be called dashing, bold, or heroic – but they had spent a lifetime perfecting the craft of handling ships and men – and none would flinch at the sound of the guns. Jellicoe handled his battle fleet with a calm and considered skill, outmaneuvered Scheer twice, and overwhelmed his enemy with “fire superiority”. But the Grand Fleet was cumbersome and not nearly as agile or responsive as the Hochseeflotte – so there were no bold plans nor elaborate maneuvers. And Jellicoe’s captains had not been sufficiently impressed with the need to keep the flagship informed. But I can say with all confidence that no man in the Royal Navy could have handled the fleet better than Jellicoe. Unlike Beatty, Jellicoe knew a simple “tactical” victory would not be enough. Due to his quick thinking and cool judgment, the British won the all-important “strategic” victory at Jutland. When the smoke cleared, Britannia still ruled the waves and controlled the North Sea – more or less. The day after the battle, Jellicoe was ready to put to sea with a powerful battle fleet – and the Germans were beginning to think it might not be wise to run such risks. Grand Fleet at sea, early 1914. There is, perhaps, a more pertinent question than who won the Battle of Jutland. Most historians have approached the subject from a simple and uncomplicated viewpoint: there was a battle – so there MUST be a winner. But there is more to be considered. Was it possible in 1916 to achieve any sort of decisive result between two modern dreadnought battle fleets? Or was it, in fact, impossible for two such technically advanced battle fleets to achieve any result remotely resembling Trafalgar? There were approximately 260 ships engaged at Jutland, spread over many miles of ocean. Were the means of communication then available to the two commanders capable of controlling long battle lines and far-flung cruiser groups? And what about the unanticipated effect of poor visibility on the “command” function? The vast quantity of funnel and gunsmoke from nearly 300 warships made it impossible for either Admiral to see more than ten or twelve ships at any given moment. The Hochseeflotte did a fairly professional job with their flag signals, searchlights, and wireless traffic – and managed a fairly tight formation. But Jellicoe’s line-ahead formation for his long and ponderous battle fleet was more necessity than choice. Any effort at a complicated envelopment of the German fleet was beyond his limited visibility and signaling capabilities. In the decade before The Great War, dreadnought technology and tactics had developed by leaps and bounds – forced along at a mind-boggling, frantic, pace. Jutland may be the proof it had exceeded human capabilities to control it. The years after Jutland produced many volumes of literature – especially between the wars. Most books were written by one major player or another, some staunchly defending their actions, while others tried to blame someone else for their failings. After WW II, the senior commanders were dead, and an entirely new generation of writers began examining Jutland with unbiased eyes. Though there is a new Jutland book every few years, none have yet produced a clear consensus as to who was victorious – or if there was a victor at all. The battle is now widely viewed as indecisive, and this view remains influential. There has, of late, been a literary trend proclaiming the battle the “last hurrah” of the Dreadnought Era, and therefore of little significance. (There is always a “new school of thought”, every five or ten years, that feel it necessary to rewrite the knowledge on Robert E. Lee, Erwin Rommel, or the Battle of Waterloo.) The “new school” believes battleships became irrelevant with the coming of mines, torpedoes, and submarines, and Jutland merely proved it. That is simply WRONG. By 1916 the floating mine had come of age, but the submarine and torpedo were still primitive and unreliable. Neither weapon, though useful, proved particularly deadly at Jutland. The battleship coexisted alongside mines, torpedoes, and submarines for the first four decades of the 20th Century and continued to be the measure of a nation’s naval power. Numbers of battleships were built between the wars -- largely due to the “old school” influence of the “battleship admirals”. And it was only in 1940 at the Battle of Taranto, 1941 at Pearl Harbor -- and the loss of HMS Prince of Wales and Repluse in the South China Sea -- that the battleship was supplanted by the aircraft carrier. But in 1916, submarines and torpedoes were both new and largely untried, proved difficult to operate, and were frequently unreliable. For the record – was the Battle of Jutland indecisive? Quite possibly – because the status quo hardly changed. But the dreadnought battleship and the Battle of Jutland – were ABSOLUTELY relevant to their time and place. The 5th Battle Squadron at sea during the Jutland sortie – HMS Barham leading Warspite, Valiant, and Malaya. LESSONS LEARNED There were a great many lessons learned from the battle of Jutland – most of them the hard way. The two worst lessons learned by the Kaiserliche Marine could be attributed directly to Admiral von Tirpitz. Promoted to Grosseadmiral by 1911, he had dominated the Kaiserliche Marine for very nearly 20 years -- strategic and tactical thought – and more importantly, warship design. Once war broke out in 1914, his design decisions and compromises came back to haunt the capital ships of the Hochseeflotte. Beginning with the first battlecruiser, SMS Von der Tann, the armor suite was a brilliant piece of work. But Tirpitz, ever mindful of the financial limitations imposed by the Reichstag, did everything in his power to keep the costs down. With each new battlecruiser, the size, tonnage, speed, and armament increased – dramatically raising the price tag. Eventually, it became standard practice on both battleships and battlecruisers to reduce the waterline armor belt as it neared the bow and stern. The standard pattern became a 12-inch main belt running from “A” turret to “D” turret. Beyond that, the armor belt extended to the bow and stern, but only with a 4-inch thickness. At the time, Tirpitz deemed that to be sufficient protection. By 1910, building costs had skyrocketed and the Derfflinger Class, still on the drawing boards, was overweight and over budget. It was suggested the armor on the bow section might be reduced below the standard 4-inch thickness. Herr Hullmann of the design bureau counseled against such a move…… “With a reduction in belt armor thickness on the bow, it should be understood large caliber shells will inevitably strike the ship there. One must then expect the ship will fill with water forward. If the damage is sufficient, leaks will occur that cannot be sealed with the means available onboard. The ship’s outer hull, to which the armor is secured, will undoubtedly leak, and the forecastle ahead of the citadel transverse bulkhead will certainly fill, and could not be kept drained with the means available onboard”. Herr Hullmann’s explanation stopped them from reducing the armor thickness, but none of them realized he had put his finger on the “Achilles Heel” of all Imperial battlecruisers. The midships sections of German armor belts extended vertically up to the main deck, but at the bow and stern they did not. In effect, the bow armor protection was not thick enough, nor did it cover a large enough area. At Jutland, three of Hipper’s five battlecruisers were heavily damaged by gunfire -- in the bow, above and below the waterline. SMS Lutzow could not be saved and was abandoned and scuttled. SMS Derfflinger, her sister-ship, was heavily damaged in exactly the same manner, but managed to reach the Jade. SMS Seydlitz took devastating damage to the bow and forecastle and arrived in the Jade more sunk than afloat. It should be noted both Moltke and Von der Tann suffered large caliber hits and flooding in the equally lightly armored stern section. It is, indeed, ironic that after all that careful planning and design, all those adjustments to the complicated armored suite, and the tremendous amount of damage they were able to absorb – Hipper’s magnificent battlecruisers had a “glass jaw”. SMS Derfflinger taking on ammunition while moored in Schillig Roads. Derfflinger is seen as she might have looked in early 1915 – after the Battle of Dogger Bank. Upon returning from battle, the Panzerkreuzer was assigned to picket duty, but the job of making the ship “battle ready” went on regardless. While minor repairs were being made by the crew, the gunnery crews were tasked with restocking the ship’s magazines. In order to speed-up the process, lighters have come alongside both the seaward (port) side, as well as the shallow, inshore side. Same scene, view from astern. The beautifully detailed model of Derfflinger is courtesy of "Barroco Hispano", and the tugs, lighters, and mooring buoys are from “AP”. The second lesson learned also applied to design decisions made by Tirpitz – the gun caliber of the Panzerkreuzer. The chosen main battery guns of the Kaiserliche Marine were the 11-inch SK-L/45, and later, the 11-inch SK-L/50, followed by the 12-inch SK-L/50. The long-barreled, high velocity weapons were, indeed, excellent – and their higher velocity reduced the time of flight of the shells, while imparting greater accuracy and armor penetration through increased kinetic energy. This was especially so with the 11-inch weapon, while the greater weight of the 12-inch shell improved penetration. At the time of Von der Tann’s design, the Admiralstab became aware 12-inch guns would be mounted on the British Invincible Class battlecruisers. Tirpitz was urged to change Von der Tann’s 11-inch armament to the excellent and available Krupp 12-inch gun. Taken at face value, the request for a larger gun, equal to your enemy, only makes sense. Tirpitz, however, believed in the “volume of fire” theory -- smaller shells, fired faster, would do the job. This theory did not take into account the weight of shell and the size of the bursting charge. The increase in gun size was declined on the grounds of additional cost and a delay in construction time. The request to jump to 12-inch guns was again made when the Motlke Class was designed – and again with SMS Seydlitz. Each time the request was refused for the same reasons – increased costs and delays in the design or construction process. When the Derfflinger Class design was undertaken, the British had already armed a number of battlecruisers and battleships with 13.5-inch weapons, which outclassed the German 11-inch gun. The disparity was so painfully obvious it could no longer be ignored – so the Derfflinger Class got 12-inch weapons. But during the discussion, the point was raised that there was talk in Britain of going to a 15-inch weapon. This, alone, should have been an “alarm bell” to Tirpitz. If there was “talk” in Britain of a 15-inch gun, that meant Vickers already had one under development – and the Royal Navy would most certainly use it. British pre-war Admiralty memorandum can actually shed some light on this subject. Jellicoe, as Second Sea Lord and Controller of the Navy, produced a 1909 study on the comparison of armor and gun calibers between the Royal Navy and the Imperial Navy. Even then, German ships were known to be better armored than comparable British warships – because of their high quality armor and internal subdivision. Because German technology produced a savings of weight in the propulsion plant, it could be directly applied to additional armor. Just one comparison (and there are others) will illustrate this point. HMS Queen Mary was given 3,900 tons of armor plate on a total displacement of 27,200 tons. Her German contemporary, SMS Seydlitz carried 5,200 tons of armor plate on a displacement of only 24,593 tons. Seydlitz held a small advantage in speed. The Germans had gained a distinct technological advantage over the British because their turbines and boilers were custom-made with weight-saving materials and designs. Their boilers were smaller and more efficient because they used small water tubes as opposed to the larger British “steam box” method. German turbines were just as sturdy and efficient – but used less steel of a higher quality. And Krupp rifles were much lighter than British weapons of an equivalent performance. Jellicoe’s memorandum went on to point out the superiority of German guns. For example: the standard German 11-inch gun weighed considerably less than its’ British counterpart and had better ballistics, with a penetrating force equivalent to the British 12-inch weapon. The newly developed German 12-inch rifle was an unknown quantity at the time of the memorandum, but Jellicoe prudently recommended new construction for the Fleet be armed with a 13.5-inch weapon developed by Vickers. It was later found that Krupp’s 12-inch gun exceeded the performance of the Vickers weapon. The Vickers 13.5-inch gun tube weighed in at 76 tons – Krupp’s 12-inch rifle weighed only 48 tons. The reason for the difference in weight and performance is simple (and I will keep this short and simple). The British armaments industry had adopted a “wire-wound” gun tube for heavy artillery and naval guns in the 1890’s. A central core is cast and then bored out to form the gun barrel. In Britain, it was discovered that the steel “bore-tube” was prone to failure due to impurities in the metal. British steel was manufactured with the Siemens-Martin “open-hearth” process. Consequently, the cast “bore-tube” was tightly wrapped with several layers of steel wire cable as reinforcement, then “cased” by an outer steel jacket (which is what you see poking out of a gun turret). These guns were not suited to “enhancement”. If better performance was needed – the British had to build bigger, longer, and heavier guns to obtain it. Krupp guns were made of steel produced in special electric furnaces (the “crucible” method) which provided an exceptionally fine metal free of impurities. The process produces a high-strength steel with less weight. German designers opted for the “built-up” naval gun. This was a solid, bored-out, central gun tube, encased with as many as five, high-tensile strength, layered outer tubes of reducing size toward the muzzle. (If you look at a German gun tube, you will see they usually have “segments” that reduce in size as they approach the muzzle.) These tubes were precision tooled and fit tightly around the central core as reinforcement. This is the forward main battery turret of SMS Helgoland (mentioned above). This is a classic view of the German 12-inch SK-L/50 gun. These guns were “built-up” as opposed to “wire-wound”. The difference between the two can be seen easily. If you look closely, there are three “segments” in each of the gun barrels. Each successive segment (or tube) increases in diameter as it approaches the breech of the gun, located inside the turret. There would be several reinforcing tubes layered over the shell chamber inside the gun tube -- where the explosive power of the firing charges would be greatest. The strength and rigidity of this method allowed for much longer barrels. German guns tended to be 50 calibers in length, whereas British guns were no more than 42 to 45 calibers in length (wire-wound gun tubes always “droop” beyond 45 calibers). The added strength of the Krupp gun allowed a larger firing charge, which increased velocity -- while the lengthened gun tube, with its longer rifled bore, imparted greater spin on the shell – providing much greater accuracy. The strength and length of the Krupp rifles is largely responsible for the phenomenally accurate, and tightly grouped salvos seen at Jutland. The Krupp steel also showed less wear on the rifled grooves in the barrel, giving the guns a long service life before requiring a new liner (about 200 rounds). British gun accuracy tended to degrade considerably after 70 rounds. It was clear to anyone interested – German science, innovation, and metallurgy had jumped far ahead. Jellicoe’s memorandum showed remarkable foresight and, oddly enough, the Admiralty adopted the 13.5-inch gun while going a step further and encouraging Vickers to develop a 15-inch weapon. The Ordnance Chief of the Admiralstab recommended designing Derfflinger to accommodate a new 15-inch Krupp weapon that would be ready for use about the time the battlecruiser was launched. Tirpitz flatly refused the more powerful weapon. He agreed to 12-inch guns because the British had opted for the 13.5-inch weapon, and they were equal to the German battleship guns. But he balked at putting a weapon on a battlecruiser that was more powerful than those of the battle fleet. It is possible Tirpitz was reluctant to up-gun the battlecruisers because of the German Naval Laws. The laws fixed building rates at three battleships and one large cruiser per year. The armor suite of a battlecruiser was already approaching that of a battleship, and if he armed them with 15-inch guns they would be more powerful than the current German battleships. The Reichstag might well accuse him of building an entirely new and unauthorized ship type while disguising it as a large cruiser. Peacetime politics were the same in Berlin and London – admirals had to watch their political backsides. There was yet another possible reason for not up-gunning. Tirpitz always indicated the 11-inch was adequate to destroy the British battlecruisers, and he only went along with the 12-inch weapon because the British had forced his hand. It is just possible his purpose in clinging to the lower caliber gun was to ensure battlecruisers would be employed as fleet scouts and “cruiser killers” – not to fight in the line of battle. He may have feared the Panzerkreuzer with 12-inch or 15-inch guns would tempt the Hochseeflotte officers to use them just as they would any battleship. Whatever the reason, Tirpitz habitually designed under-gunned battlecruisers regardless of the wishes of his line officers and department heads. The British built their first six battlecruisers between 1908 and 1913 with 12-inch guns, then increased to 13.5-inch caliber in 1910. Tirpitz did not see the need to increase to the 12-inch gun until 1912 – and at that time he declined to jump ahead of the British with a 15-inch caliber for the Derfflinger Class. British shells kept getting larger, but it’s as though Tirpitz gave no consideration to the weight of shell. It’s really quite simple – the bigger shell meant more penetrating power on impact – and more weight meant a larger bursting charge on detonation. That adds up to a much greater destructive force – outside and inside the target’s hull. No one in the Kaiserliche Marine had any actual knowledge or experience with the destructive power of British 13.5-inch Lyddite shells prior to the war, and they came as something of a surprise at Dogger Bank. But German line officers had absolutely zero comprehension of the destructive force of the 15-inch shells they encountered at Jutland. It was, literally, difficult to believe the devastation wrought by a 15-inch shell weighing 1,900 pounds. A starboard side view of Derfflinger taking ammunition aboard. Inshore, abaft the stern turrets, a Sophia Class paddle tug has positioned two lighters – one with yellow-tipped armor-piercing shells, and another with brass-cased powder charges. Up forward is a Thor Class tug with two similar lighters in position. On the port side, astern, another Thor Class tug is pushing a shell lighter (diagonal model) up against the battlecruiser’s hull, while near the bow, a Helena Class paddle tug (diagonal) has positioned her two lighters and is standing by. Same scene, bow view. Note the sleek lines of the battlecruiser’s hull. German battlecruisers had been designed to withstand 12-inch gunfire, and the armor suite was supposed to keep them afloat long enough for their 11-inch guns to sink a British battlecruiser. It turned out the armor suite was capable of absorbing far more punishment than expected, but the 11-inch guns took longer than anticipated to dispose of their enemy. As the battle wore on, damage to Hipper’s battlecruisers continued to accumulate. But the real problem showed itself when the British 15-inch guns came into action. The destructive power of the British 15-inch shell was capable of overwhelming the German armor long before their 11-inch guns could inflict fatal damage to their opponent. Tirpitz’ stubborn refusal to upgrade main gun caliber ended up sending the Imperial battlecruisers into action with one arm tied behind their back. The larger 12-inch gun would have evened the odds a little, and inflicted more damage on the British battlecruisers – perhaps even sinking one or two more. Equipping Lutzow and Derfflinger with 15-inch weapons would have evened the odds considerably – and the superior gunnery skills of the Hochseeflotte would have conveyed a distinct edge. The Battle of Jutland was not lost at sea. It was lost years before -- on the drafting boards of the Reichsmarineamt. The 1st Battlecruiser Squadron, Battlecruiser Fleet, of the Grand Fleet. Top to bottom – HMS Lion (flagship) – Princess Royal, Queen Mary, and HMS Tiger – collectively known as “The Splendid Cats”. A tug is positioning two lighters against the stern of Lion, preparing to unload – paint – to keep her bright and shiny. And a motor launch is approaching her bow – possibly with Admiralty despatches. Princess Royal is “coaling ship”, and a tug has arrived alongside Tiger with fresh provisions and ship’s stores. This is what they might have looked like just days before sailing for Jutland. The battlecruiser models are courtesy of “Barroco Hispano”. The tugs, lighters, motor launches, boat booms, and mooring buoys are by "AP". The white steam tug alongside Tiger was “gifted” by “WolfZe”. The British, too, learned many lessons from Jutland, but not as many as they should have. Some “lessons” were merely excuses for poor design, poor training, or poor tactical performance. One such problem was defective ammunition. British shells tended to break up on impact – or failed to penetrate when they struck at an oblique angle. This serious issue only came to light quite by chance. Beatty had hosted a luncheon (more of a public relations event) aboard HMS Lion in August 1916. One guest was a Swedish naval attache recently attached to his embassy in Berlin. During conversation with Ernle Chatfield (Beatty’s Flag Captain) the attache explained the Germans considered British shells more the object of comic relief than fear. Of course, the matter was investigated and new shells designed. (Jellicoe had already pointed this out when he was Second Sea Lord, before the war.) But the munitions were not delivered to the fleet in sufficient quantity until April 1918. All 12,000 of them were duly loaded into magazines and never fired in anger. But – I will not go into all of the problems discovered by the British, since our subject matter is focused on the Imperial battlecruisers. Though -- there is one more point worth mentioning. A closer look at HMS Lion, name ship of the Lion Class battlecruisers. Note the exceptionally wide spacing between the aft turrets. Both Jellicoe and Beatty blamed the loss of HMS Indefatigable, Queen Mary, and Invincible on their inherently thin armor – and that was quite accurate. But recent information obtained by wreck divers found excessive numbers of bagged powder charges stacked outside the magazines in the working chambers and barbette trunks of the ship’s main gun turrets. This negligent handling of powder was discovered earlier, at Dogger Bank, when HMS Lion was nearly lost to a magazine explosion. New handling procedures were immediately put in place to prevent such a disaster. Apparently, the ammunition handling parties on Beatty’s battlecruisers reverted to their bad habits at Jutland in an attempt to increase their rate of fire. German shells caused flash fires in the turrets and barbette trunks, blowing up each of the lost battlecruisers – not to mention damaging several ships that did not explode. Current authors have decided the British armor was more than sufficient – it was actually the powder handling procedures that caused the loss of the ships. After the battle, an urgent investigation was made and the British powder handling arrangements were, indeed, found to be deficient. Older flash-proof scuttles in the magazine bulkheads were found to be less than safe, while some had actually been removed by turret crews to speed up the rate of fire. New “revolving door” scuttles were designed and hastily installed to prevent future disasters. Poor procedures may be technically true – but it rather “puts the cart before the horse”. Let me ask a simple question. If the armor was sufficient to keep the German shells out – how did the flash of a detonating shell get inside a turret or barbette trunk to start the fire? The German shells had to penetrate turret armor or barbette armor – or – fracture the armor badly enough to admit detonation flash into the interior and set off the powder. There is no other way. The British armor was NOT sufficient to keep the shells out. A closer view of HMS Tiger – the most handsome of all the British battlecruisers at Jutland. Note the armor plate “apron” designed around the three main battery turrets installed at deck level. One rather gruesome revelation resulted from the “finger-pointing” and petulant accusations of “The Jutland Scandal”. “The Scandal” was a thoroughly ugly business, and during the numerous examinations and investigations of every moment of the battle, the signaling failures of Flag-Lieutenant Ralph Seymour came to light. Needless to say, the facts did not bode well for his career. Prone to bad luck, he tried to marry a young lady who stood to inherit a large sum of money from wealthy relatives – Beatty’s step-niece, and Beatty’s wife’s money. The Admiral forthwith ordered young Ralph to direct his amorous attentions elsewhere. Seymour, completely disgraced, eventually flung himself off the cliffs at Beachy Head in 1922. And that brings us back to the original question – “Who won the Battle of Jutland?” The short answer is – nobody. But -- if anyone could be said to have been beaten – it was Beatty. He led six battlecruisers and four fast battleships against Hipper’s five Panzerkreuzer in a foolhardy dash without coordinating the movements of his battleships. Hipper sank two battlecruisers and thoroughly mauled the other four. Only the timely arrival of the fast battleships saved Beatty from utter destruction. Scheer could not possibly have won the battle, so it seems difficult to “lose” something you never intended – or attempted -- to win. Finally – considering the poor visibility, lack of sighting reports, and shells that didn’t penetrate – Jellicoe did not actually “win” the battle. But he did manage to avoid losing it – and that was vastly more important. The day after the battle, a New York City newspaper columnist summed-up the battle rather neatly…...”The German Fleet has assaulted its jailer – but it is still in jail.” A detail view of SMS Derfflinger taking ammunition aboard. The battlecruiser model by “Barroco Hispano” is, of course, a thing of beauty – but I mainly wanted to show a close-up of the amazing detail @AP has put into his tugboats and lighters. Each shell lighter has the projectiles laid out in neat rows, with each shell individually crafted. And each powder lighter has four rows of clearly visible brass cartridge cases. And if you look behind the Helena Class paddle tug, he has even made a powder lighter with the hatch covers still battened-down. This is the kind of detail that really brings a model to life. Vice-Admiral John Rushworth Jellicoe was promoted to 1st Sea Lord in November 1916. In essence, he was “kicked upstairs” to the Admiralty -- promoted so the fleet could be turned over to a more aggressive man. Jellicoe’s prudent handling of the Grand Fleet was hardly heroic, but it was sure and certain. And it preserved British naval supremacy for another generation. The failure to deliver a “second Trafalgar” was blamed on Jellicoe – determined mostly on the basis of criticism in a letter-writing campaign aimed at Jellicoe’s supposed “timidity”. The letter writer, Vice-Admiral David Beatty was appointed in his place as C.-in-C. of the Grand Fleet. Jellicoe was rudely sacked from the Admiralty in January 1918 by Lloyd George’s administration for his failure to find a “miracle cure” for German U-boat attacks on British merchant shipping. There was, in fact, hardly any way to prevent submarine attacks in those days – though a “convoy system” seemed to intimidate U-Boat commanders. But the simple fact is -- Lloyd George simply needed a scapegoat to cover his own political backside. (Despite whatever good he may have accomplished -- in politics, Lloyd George was a creature not to be trusted.) Jellicoe was created Viscount Jellicoe of Scapa Flow in March 1918, and promoted Admiral Of The Fleet in April 1919. He was appointed Governor-General of New Zealand in 1920 and upon his return to England was created 1st Earl Jellicoe (hereditary) and Viscount Brocas of Southampton in 1925. Though lavished with honors, he never again served in a military capacity. There was a great deal of intrigue and back-stabbing over the Battle of Jutland – mostly Beatty trying to shift the blame for his poor performance onto Jellicoe’s shoulders. Each admiral had a number of their own supporters and the situation elicited a great many letters in the newspapers – and even involved deliberate alterations to the official Admiralty reports of the battle (ordered by Beatty while serving as First Sea Lord). I suggest you Google “The Jutland Scandal” for full details – it’s far too complicated to cover here. Admiral Of The Fleet, Lord John Rushworth Jellicoe, died aged 75, at his London home in 1935 and was buried with full military honors in St. Paul’s Cathedral. Vice-Admiral Sir David Richard Beatty was appointed to command of the Grand Fleet in November 1916, but never got another crack at the High Sea Fleet. Ironically, the “Hell for leather” battlecruiser admiral immediately adopted the cautious operational strategy of his predecessor (Jellicoe) and never fought a fleet engagement on his own. (The man couldn’t coordinate ten ships at Jutland – what would he have done with nearly 200?) Beatty brought out the entire Grand Fleet in November 1918 to escort the Hochseeflotte to internment in Scapa Flow. (But it should be noted he guarded what he considered “his” victory like a miser’s hoard. He could have invited both Admirals Fisher and Jellicoe aboard Queen Elizabeth to attend the ceremonies – but he did not.) He was promoted full Admiral in January 1919, and to Admiral Of The Fleet in May 1919. In October 1919 he was created 1st Earl Beatty, Viscount Borodale, and Baron Beatty of the North Sea and Brooksby. In November 1919 he was appointed First Sea Lord of the Admiralty and served in that capacity until his retirement in 1927. His main goal as a peacetime First Sea Lord seems to have been trying to prevent the United States from supplanting Britain as the foremost seapower – though that “claim to fame” seems dubious. He was considered for the post of Governor-General of Canada in 1926, but Colonial Secretary Leo Amery rejected the notion...”no manners and an impossible American wife”. (In 1901, Beatty had married Ethel Tree – the wealthy heiress to Chicago’s Marshall Field Department stores.) Admiral Of The Fleet, Sir David Richard Beatty died in March 1936 and was interred in St. Paul’s Cathedral. Vizeadmiral Reinhard Scheer was lauded as a hero upon his return to Wilhelmshaven and was decorated by the Kaiser with Germany’s highest military honor -- the Pour le Merite (sometimes called “The Blue Max”). He remained in command of the Hochseeflotte and made several sorties into the North Sea to attack convoys and shipping concentrations, but to little effect. He could not afford to risk his small fleet – so there was little chance of a “safe” operation producing impressive results. In August 1918, Scheer was promoted to full Admiral and appointed Chief of Naval Staff to replace an ailing Admiral Holtzendorff. Scheer lobbied heavily for unrestricted submarine warfare because he saw little opportunity for the Hochseeflotte to achieve any significant results. He retired from the navy after the war and wrote his memoirs in 1919, but his life after the war was not pleasant. An insane intruder broke into his home in 1920 and murdered his wife, his maid, and injured his daughter, before committing suicide in the cellar. Scheer withdrew into solitude and wrote an autobiography published in 1925. In 1928 Scheer accepted an invitation from Earl Jellicoe to visit England, but died aged 65 before he could make the journey. He is buried in the municipal cemetery in Weimar. The inscription on the stone reads “Here rests Admiral Reinhard Scheer” with the single word “Skagerrak” carved below. The last warship built by the Reichsmarine of the Weimar Republic was the pocket-battleship Admiral Scheer launched in 1933. As a matter of some interest: Books and articles about the battle began to appear as early as late 1916 – mostly written by British or American authors – all in English – and all based on the British accounts of the action. None of them paid very much (if any) attention to the German literature or their available official records. Up until the 1970’s, it was not unusual to see Admiral Scheer referred to as “von Scheer”. This is a simple, but obvious, proof of how little fact actually appeared in books written in the first 50 years after the battle. Reinhard Scheer was born to a middle-class family in lower Saxony – certainly not the nobility. Upon his return from Jutland, Kaiser Wilhelm did offer to raise him to the Imperial nobility. But, for reasons known only to him, Scheer declined the offer and never received the much-coveted “von” before his name. Vizeadmiral Franz Ritter von Hipper also returned to a hero’s welcome – and justly so. His performance at Jutland was nothing short of magnificent. On 5 June 1916, for his conduct in the battle, Hipper received the Pour le Merite from the Kaiser’s own hand and a kiss on both cheeks. He was also awarded the Royal Bavarian Military Order Of Max Joseph, Commander’s Cross, by His Majesty, King Ludwig III of Bavaria – including elevation to Bavarian nobility and the title “Ritter” (knight). He was presented with several other awards, including the Royal Saxon Order of Albrecht, and all three Hanseatic League Crosses from Lubeck, Bremen, and Hamburg. On 12 August 1918, he was promoted full Admiral and appointed to command the Hochseeflotte -- but his time in command was short and unpleasant. The war was all but lost and within weeks, the crews of the Hochseeflotte began to demonstrate mutinous tendencies. By 29 October several battleship crews had mutinied, so the fleet was dispersed to various ports. On 9 November, Hipper personally hauled down his flag and departed the battleship Baden. Just twelve days later, on 21 November 1918, Hipper watched as his cherished battlecruisers led the Hochseeflotte to sea one last time – headed for internment at Scapa Flow as part of the Armistice agreement. With no fleet to command, there would be no more battles to fight, and Hipper retired in December 1918 after 37 years of service at sea. For the next year, he hid from the radical elements of the 1918-1919 revolutionaries that overturned the monarchy, then settled in a comfortable home in Altona, near Hamburg. Unlike Scheer, Hipper never wrote his memoirs or anything concerning his service during the war – he was confident the heroism of his men and battlecruisers spoke for him. Of the four senior admirals (on both sides) present at Jutland, Hipper made no mistakes that day – and was the only one to come away with his reputation burnished. In May 1932, Admiral Franz Ritter von Hipper died and was buried in his hometown of Weilheim. The Kriegsmarine later named their Hipper Class heavy cruisers after him. Upon hearing of Hipper's death, David Beatty said..."I am very sorry. One would like to express one's regrets for the passing of a gallant officer and a great sailor.” It would, no doubt, have pleased Hipper, and certainly – after the rough handling he had given Beatty – it would have made the old Bavarian buccaneer laugh. Elements of the German III Battle Squadron steaming past Heligoland Island. Painting by Claus Bergen. NEXT TIME…… THE THIRD SISTER MANY THANKS to @Barroco Hispano for his beautiful warship models. SPECIAL THANKS to my friend and partner, @AP, for his talents, meticulous models, colorful imagination, and extreme dedication. If you enjoyed anything – please punch the “like” button so WE will know. A comment would be even more informative. Comments and critiques requested and gratefully accepted. All questions answered promptly to the best of our ability. THANK YOU for your visit! You may wish to visit these CJ’s as well…… SERIES I: IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: WILHELMSHAVEN SERIES II: IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: CUXHAVEN Appearing – Work In Publication SERIES III: IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: BREMERHAVEN Appearing -- ??? And please feel free to drop in at… THE SIMTROPOLIS SHIPYARD https://community.simtropolis.com/forums/topic/761469-simtropolis-shipyard/?tab=comments#comment-1766496

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

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

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