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Chapter 37: Things That Go "BOOM" In The Night
Dreadnought posted a City Journal entry in IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: CUXHAVEN
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- 10 Comments
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