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IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: CUXHAVEN By: Dreadnought & AP Chapter 61: THE PHOTO TOUR 17 THE EAST BASIN 03 This installment begins at the head of “Pier 2”. This pier is constructed with the same 8x1 base lot as the others. The advantage possessed by “Piers 2 through 6” lay in the construction of one long, continuous pier. Any number of ships, of various sizes, could be accommodated along its length. “Pier 1” was the first set of mooring piers constructed, and it was based on a series of individual docks capable of handling only a single vessel. One other point: This installment deals primarily with “heavy cruisers”. Battle fleets of The Great War Era were composed of battleships, battlecruisers, sometimes armored cruisers, and light cruisers. The Royal Navy continued to deploy armored cruisers with the Grand Fleet in a scouting capacity, even though they were recognized as obsolete. The Kaiserliche Marine, more realistic about the life expectancy of an armored cruiser in a fleet engagement, reassigned them for service in the Baltic Sea. For all practical purposes, “heavy” cruisers did not exist during WW I. The “heavy cruiser” was, in fact, the offspring of the Washington Naval Treaty of 1922. Both the British and the Americans, to varying degrees, had overseas interests requiring naval support and protection. After the financial strains of The Great War, neither country was particularly interested in sending battleships to such far flung outposts as Dar es Salaam, Sri Lanka, or even Manila. But, by the same token, something with more “muscle” than a light cruiser was required. The answer was not the obsolete armored cruiser or its capital ship replacement, the battlecruiser (limited by the treaty) – but the concept of a modern “heavy cruiser”. The Washington Treaty did not limit total “cruiser tonnage”, but it set an upper limit on ship size – no more than 10,000 tons with guns no larger than eight inch. (A later London Naval Treaty further subdivided cruisers into “heavy” and “light” categories. Light cruisers were approximately 7,000 tons with guns no larger than six inch.) So the heavy cruiser was born between the wars, more out of the need to save money than anything else. Moored at the head of “Pier 2” is HMS Exeter, the second and last of the York Class heavy cruisers built for the Royal Navy. Displacement: 8,390 tons – Length 575 feet – 32 knots – 6x8-inch guns – 6x21-inch torpedo tubes – Belt armor 3 inches. This view shows her long, slender lines which contributed to her speed. This close-up shows you the marvelous and intricate detailing on the model. The York Class cruisers were handsome and impressive vessels – somewhat unusual for Britain’s peacetime construction. The cruisers were built with the square, block-like forward superstructure that soon became standard on British warships. HMS Exeter put in a dogged performance against KM Admiral Graff Spee at the battle of the River plate in 1939 and was under repair for nearly a year after the battle. In early 1942, she was transferred to the Far East and was sunk by four Japanese cruisers on 1 March 1942, during the Second Battle of the Java Sea. Model courtesy of @Barroco Hispano. A little further along the pier we see two paddle steam tugs maneuvering a lighter loaded with timber into position against the pier. The towing tug, Esmeralda, holds her position, while the tug Helena nudges the lighter against the dock. This is another view of the tugs and lighter at work alongside “Pier 2”. @AP has crafted these wonderfully detailed tugs after much research into the type, and the level of detail is truly amazing. You can even see the furled canvas along the yardarms and on the mizzen gaff. If the tug’s engine failed while at sea, they would be able to make port under sail. The timber lighter, alone, is a work of art. You will note Helena is a diagonal model. “AP” made the extra effort to include many diagonal versions of his models for the game. “Grid-busting” is a long and admirable tradition in the SC4 community, and we have tried to add to the realism it brings to the game. Along with the other traditional naval powers, the United States built “treaty cruisers” between the wars. Here you see USS Northampton, name ship of a class of six heavy cruisers built between 1928 and 1931. Additional ships were originally planned, but budget cuts during The Great Depression killed the overly ambitious program. Displacement: 9,050 tons – Length 582 feet – Speed 32.5 knots – 9x8-inch guns – 8x5-inch guns – 4 float planes – Belt armor 3.75 inches. This view shows the clean lines of the fast cruiser. With a 9 to1 length to width ratio, they were fast enough to keep up with the fast carrier battle groups that would eventually dominate WW II in the Pacific, and were prominent in the cruiser/destroyer night actions in the Solomon Islands. This beautifully detailed model by “Barroco Hispano” shows the midships handling area for her aircraft catapult (port side) and the aircraft hangars beneath the rear superstructure block. The Northamptons were handsome vessels with a long, low profile, a raised forecastle for sea-keeping in rough seas, and a classically beautiful raked “clipper bow”. These cruisers were quite popular among serving officers and were followed by the nearly identical Portland Class heavy cruisers. Three of the Northamptons would be lost in the Pacific war – USS Houston, Northampton, and Chicago. This is yet another of the several old, wooden landings provided by “AP”. Instead of raising the landing up to the top of the seawall, this one lowers the dock closer to the water and includes stairs. Just one more example of the variety found in such a simple prop. The landing has been “dressed-out” with a wide selection of “AP’s” sailors and small boats. Contrary to what you might think, it is not possible in these large harbors to row a boat up and step ashore wherever you please. “Landing piers” are found in many locations in a harbor, but because they are relatively scarce, each one becomes a focal point of activity. Here you see personnel coming and going, some boats loading small quantities of supplies, others carrying mail, etc, etc. This is HMS Devonshire, one of 13 County Class heavy cruisers built between 1928 and 1930. This large class of ships was typical of the “treaty cruisers” Britain built between the wars. Large and sturdy, they were multi-purpose vessels designed to handle commerce protection and colonial support. Due to the large number of ships in the class, there were minor design changes made during construction, but they generally conformed to certain particulars: Displacement: 9,840 tons – Length: 595 feet – Speed 32.25 knots – 8x8-inch guns – 8x4-inch guns – 8x21-inch torpedo tubes – Belt armor 3.5 inches. HMS Devonshire is high-sided with enough freeboard to stay at sea and – if need be – to fight in heavy sea states. Her three funnels indicate a large number of boilers to generate high speed. The County Class heavy cruisers were considered good sea boats and performed well under wartime conditions. HMS Norfolk and Suffolk detected KM Bismarck passing through the Denmark Strait in May 1941, and HMS Dorsetshire fired the last four torpedoes into the German battleship. Later, Dorsetshire and HMS Cornwall were lost to Japanese carrier aircraft in April 1942, while HMAS Canberra was sunk in the night action off Savo Island in August 1942. Highly detailed model of Devonshire provided by “Barroco Hispano”. Here is a close-up view of the individual docks used to construct the “Pier 1” facilities. There are four 12x3 docks – each one lotted differently -- and spaced-out along the quayside to handle a heavy cruiser. These docks are different from my usual dock pattern in that they do not have “WMP Seawalls” fitted as “bumpers”. The idea was to show these births as the oldest in the harbor, and therefore less modern. The dockside cranes are by “AP” with various props used to dress-out the dock itself. The five red-roofed warehouses on the right are from the “PEG SNM Naval Series”, while the black-roofed warehouses on the right are from the “NOB 1905 Naval Series”. Each dock is separated from its neighbor by a 3x2 lot with storage tanks, fronted by a 1x1 water tower and two 1x1 lots with parked trucks or trailers. Across the road from the dock area are the trackside loading docks. These 3x2 dock pieces were repurposed directly from the “PEG CDK Industrial Docks Series” without any modifications. Upon reflection, I should have re-lotted them and “dressed” them with props suitable to the pre-WW I era. Unfortunately, this part of the map was put together early in the process and then largely overlooked (note the ubiquitous shipping containers). The 3x2 space between the two docks was filled-in with a combination of 1x1 and 1x2 modular lots. The trackside crane here is borrowed from the “PEG SNM Dry Dock Lot”. Above you see the heavy cruiser RM Zara moored at her berth. The Zara Class comprised four heavy cruisers – Zara, Fiume, Pola, and Gorizia -- built for the Italian Regia Marina (RM or “Royal Navy”) between 1929 and 1932. They were a substantial improvement over the preceding class of cruisers with much improved belt armor. The Zara’s were, in fact, among the most heavily armored “treaty cruisers” built between the wars. It is not commonly known that the Italians were only able to achieve acceptable guns, armor, and speed by deliberately violating the Washington Treaty limits. Displacement: 11,326 tons – Length” 589 feet – 32 knots – 8x8-inch guns – 16x3.9-inch guns – 34 AA guns – 2 seaplanes – Belt armor 5.9 inches. With an 8 to 1 length to width ratio, the Zara Class ships were a bit wider in the beam than most foreign cruisers, which would have provided a more stable gun platform. But even with the wider beam and heavier armor, they still exceeded their rated 32 knots. You can see the hull lines are smooth and graceful, with a widely flared bow and raised forecastle deck to keep her “dry” at high speeds. The Zara Class heavy cruisers were among the most handsome cruisers ever built – as “Barroco Hispano’s” superbly detailed model clearly demonstrates. The raised forecastle forward, steps down to the main deck level abaft the bridge structure and runs “flush” to the stern. The cruisers are long, and low with sharp “raked” bows designed to slice through the waves. The four cruisers served well during the early years of WW II, but Gorizia is the only one to survive the conflict. Pola, Zara, and Fiume were all sunk at the Battle of Cape Matapan, in a night action against the British battleships Barham, Valiant, and Warspite (27-29 March 1941). NEXT TIME…… CUXHAVEN: THE PHOTO TOUR 18 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 60: THE PHOTO TOUR 16 THE EAST BASIN 02 We’ll pick up where we left off – at the head of “Pier 4”. The long piers are pretty much the same as those in the previous chapter. The only real differences are the moored ships and a bit of variety in the dockside activity. In reality, the number of light cruisers assigned to the Hochseeflotte varied according to circumstances – maintenance, special duties, wartime losses, etc, etc. Normally there would be five 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 minelayers or escorts for minesweeping operations. Still others might be temporarily assigned to duty in the Baltic Sea. But no matter the reason, one thing is certain: like the pre-World War US Navy, the Kaiserliche Marine was woefully short of light cruisers. Add to this the potential for heavy losses and the Hochseeflotte could easily find itself unable to scout the enemy or screen the battle fleet. But that need not bother us for game purposes. I am, indeed, fortunate to have quite a few excellent cruiser models generously 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 period. All the models are, however, superbly detailed and should be of interest. At the head of “Pier 4” is the Italian light cruiser Raimondo Montecuccoli. Built between the wars, she was part of the third batch of Condottieri Class light cruisers. The Marina Regia had opted for cruiser warfare in the narrow seas of the Mediterranean, with a medium-sized battle fleet to supply a respectable amount of muscle. Montecuccoli was larger, much longer, and better protected than her predecessors. Model courtesy of Barroco Hispano. Raimondo Montecuccoli was commissioned in 1935: 7,523 tons – 37 knots – 8x6-inch (QF) guns – 4x21-inch torpedo tubes – 2 aircraft – belt armor 2.4 inches. Extremely fast, with a respectable main battery, these cruisers were more than capable of interdicting trade at any of the various “choke-points” in the Mediterranean. Raimondo Montecuccoli survived WW II and served in the Italian Navy until decommissioned in 1964. This is another overview of the light cruiser berths in the basin. Left of center are three of four Kolberg Class light cruisers – SMS Kolberg, Mainz, and Coln. Kolberg survived the war, but Mainz and Coln were lost at the First Battle of Heligoland Bight in August 1914. Right of center are the two light cruisers of the Pillau Class – SMS Pillau and Elbing. Elbing was lost during the night action at Jutland when she was accidentally rammed by the battleship SMS Posen – and later scuttled. Pillau survived the war, was ceded to Italy as war reparations, and was sunk by US Army bombers in 1943. The Pillau Class conformed to the German light cruiser standards – roughly 4,400 tons – 27.5 knots – 8x5.9-inch guns. But they started life at the Schichau-Werk, Danzig, as a pair of light cruisers destined for the Imperial Russian Navy. When war broke out, the German government confiscated the pair and finished them for the Kaiserliche Marine. Pillau was commissioned in December 1914, and Elbing in September 1915. (Model by “Barroco Hispano”). This is a close-up of the Kolberg Class light cruisers nested along the quayside. Originally armed with twelve 4.1-inch guns, Kolberg was later modernized (1916) to carry eight 5.9-inch guns. At 25.5 knots, the ships had a fair turn of speed and Kolberg was frequently used on minelaying operations. Model by @Barroco Hispano. Once again, I apologize for the use of modern shipping containers, but when these docks were laid out there were few alternatives. It actually took quite a long time to track down suitable props to fill-out all the modular lots required to build massive quays and docks. I actually made an effort to phase the containers out as the map construction progressed – especially in the planned Bremerhaven map -- but they will tend to turn up from time to time. This is the Italian light cruiser Duca degli Abruzzi – another 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 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 the main armament was deployed in two triple and two double turrets – a method primarily used in the Italian Navy (though the British employed a similar arrangement on their King George V Class battleships in 1937). 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. Here’s a shot of the lower end of this basin. The very end of this type of basin always tends to be a “catch-all”. If some tug captain wasn’t exactly sure where to put something, it usually wound up at the end of a basin. Lighters and barges that have been unloaded – but not removed right away – get shoved out of the way and dumped at the end – usually by a new tug towing loaded lighters. 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”. Lighters were (and still are) a common sight in all harbors – and most especially in large harbors. Old photographs of Hamburg and the Port of London show dozens of lighters servicing cargo ships, while dozens more have been emptied and left to collect in odd corners of the docks. We have done our best to recreate the extensive use of lighters in our harbors. This is a close-up from a different angle – mainly so you can get a good look at the superb craftsmanship of “AP’s” models – and – it’s a great angle on the paddle tug Esmeralda. The small boat crews have come alongside to secure the new lighter to the other two. As the growing battle fleet occupied more and more space in Wilhelmshaven, it was decided to create a salvage tug station in Cuxhaven. This might not seem crucial to the operation of the battlecruisers, but during the war, more than one was torpedoed and required immediate assistance – and this was especially critical after the Battle of Jutland. Due to the already crowded nature of the Cuxhaven anchorage, the salvage tugs have had to share berthing space with the warships. This is their “station” – squeezed onto the lower end of “Pier 3”. 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 (named after one of the Frisian Islands). The model is meticulously detailed and based on the famous “SS Foundation Franklin”. Even the two massive towing winches can be seen directly aft of 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. The old wooden control tower (extreme right of picture) was borrowed from the “SimCoug Historic Harbor Series”. Again, I used a wide selection of props to make 1x1 custom lots allowing flexibility and much greater variety with 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”. “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 Konigsberg – 1907 and Stuttgart – 1908. In the early months of The Great War, Konigsberg was hunted down by the British and sunk in the Rufiji River delta of German East Africa. Stuttgart survived the war, was awarded to Britain as war reparations, and scrapped in 1922. On the right are SMS Karlsruhe – 1912 and Rostock – 1912. Karlsruhe was lost east of Barbados due to an internal explosion in November 1914, while Rostock (a torpedo boat flotilla leader) was heavily damaged at Jutland and later scuttled. Here you see a pair of Leander Class light cruisers – HMS Ajax (1935) at left, and Achilles (1933). Built under the terms of the Washington Naval Treaty, these ships were scaled-down from the York Class heavy cruisers, in an effort to build more numerous, small, cruisers within the limits of Britain’s cruiser tonnage allowance. The German Panzerschiffe KM Deutschland and Admiral Scheer had thrown a scare into the British and they were trying to increase their cruisers for commerce protection purposes. Displacement: 7,270 tons – length 555 feet – 32.5 knots -- 8x6-inch guns – 8x21-inch torpedo tubes – no armor to speak of. The Leander’s generally exceeded their speed ratings and were well liked by their crews. Though very lightly armored, they turned out to be rugged ships capable of standing up to extended periods of service between maintenance, and quite capable of exceeding their designed speeds in emergencies. Both Ajax and Achilles preformed heroically in action against KM Admiral Graff Spee at the Battle of the River Plate in 1939. Achilles was sold to India in 1948 and served until 1978. Light cruiser models courtesy of “Barroco Hispano”. At the end of the mole, we find yet another of AP’s old wooden landings. I have, over the years, wanted an old wooden landing to use on a lake or a river for kayaks and boating – but I had little to choose from and had to improvise something. “AP” has provided a variety of different wooden landings that could be used in almost any situation you might imagine. Just for the record – these are, for the most part, simple wooden landings – no frills. This one has been modified with many different props. NEXT TIME…… CUXHAVEN: THE PHOTO TOUR 17 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 59: THE PHOTO TOUR 15 The first requirement of any naval base is a good, safe anchorage – strategically well placed. The British were blessed with Scapa Flow in the Orkney Islands north of Scotland. While breathtakingly spacious, “Scapa” was extremely remote, the weather was atrocious, and the new anchorage had no facilities worth mentioning. Parliament had authorized money to build a small naval establishment before The Great War, but it was not a large amount and very little work had been done. With the sudden outbreak of war in 1914, the decision to station the battle fleet in the far north was made on the spur of the moment. For the duration of the war, everything the fleet needed to operate had to be shipped in by steamer, and repairs and maintenance work was done at the Royal Dockyards in Rosyth, Scotland. (A large floating dock was eventually towed to Scapa Flow and machine shops were set up – but the big jobs still had to be done elsewhere.) By contrast, the Kaiserliche Marine was based in Wilhelmshaven, on the west side of the Jade Bight. The naval base and construction yards were well equipped and could provide any services required by the battle fleet. Unfortunately, the dockyards had been established some sixty years earlier, and were cramped and barely able to handle the expanding German battle feet. I could have tried to duplicate the cramped conditions found in Wilhelmshaven, but in “Cuxhaven”, I opted instead to show the various forms of moorings found in many different naval bases the world over. There are offshore mooring points, mooring buoys, “nested” moorings, piers, docks, and quays – and there is always the ship that simply drops a bow and stern anchor and calls it “Home”. In this chapter, we will be examining the “East Basin” of the Cuxhaven dockyards. This is an overview of the “East Basin”. These three long mooring basins are assigned to the cruisers of the 6th Scouting Group. The two basins on the left handle the light cruisers, while the basin on the right handles heavy cruisers. The 6th Scouting Group is entirely fictional, and the ships themselves are selected from the foreign navies of WWI and WWII, rather than just the German Imperial Navy. (I had a large number of very interesting cruiser models that simply begged to be included in this CJ – somewhere.) These long piers are based on similarly arranged piers found in the Brooklyn and Philadelphia Navy Yards in the late 1940’s – and especially in the Bremerton Navy Yard (Washington State) where the US Navy’s “Mothball Fleet” is laid-up. My piers are a bit longer because I had a lot of cruisers to squeeze in. For reference purposes the piers are – from left to right – “Pier 6” – “Pier 5” – “Pier 4” – “Pier 3” – “Pier 2” – and “Pier 1”. The “Pier 1” installations are actually composed of individual “quayside docks”. At the end of “pier 6” (next to the Admiral’s quarters), a small receiving pier was built. This pier could service government vessels as well as the odd commercial freighter. Since Cuxhaven was a small anchorage it was deemed sufficient to build a pier just large enough to unload two freighters at a time. Major repair work was to be carried out in Wilhelmshaven, so cargoes of large equipment or bulk construction materials would not be necessary. This pier was designed to handle large quantities of smaller goods – clerical supplies, foodstuffs, uniform supplies, small items of military equipment – etc, etc. With commercial freighters in short supply, I again used the excellent model of the Liberty Ship SS Red Oak Victory – generously provided by “Barroco Hispano”. The commercial wharf is composed of “PEG Pier One Seaport” segments – modified with changes to the dock cargoes. The various parts of the pier were plopped in sequence to make a berth just big enough for a freighter, then the ships were plopped alongside. In this view, you see tugs nudging another Liberty Ship into position alongside the pier. The two harbor tugs on the left are Midgard Class, while the one on the right is a diagonal Asgard Class – courtesy of @AP. This is an overview of “Pier 6”. This picture has many points of interest, but I would like you to focus on the VERY long pier to which the “nested” cruisers are moored. The method by which this pier was fashioned is an excellent example of what can be achieved with the lots and props already in the game, and the old-fashioned – but very versatile – Maxis Lot Editor. Of course, a bit of experimentation and some “lateral thinking” is required. This is the “PEG SNM Pier 02 Destroyer Reserve Base”. The original lot is an 8x4 with the actual piers as overhanging props. The overhanging piers are 8 tiles in length. You will Also note the way the lot, when plopped, lowers the land level down to sea level – basically creating a real pain in the backside. This phenomenon is endemic to all PEG maritime lots -- marinas, docks, fire boats, etc, etc. But in the process of creating a new lot, I managed to find a way to cure that problem without going back into the Editor. The object was to create a long lateral pier instead of the one sticking out into the water at a right angle. I cut the old 8x4 lot down to an 8x1 and rotated the pier to run parallel to the lot. I then duplicated the pier and joined the two together, making a modular pier 16 tiles in length. I placed it on the front of the 8x1 lot and juggled the two pier halves until the lot would save properly. I allowed the front of this long pier to overhang the front of the 8x1 lot so the pier pilings would be in the water when plopped. As you can see, the lot is placed on land and does not require any modifications for use on water. I then “dressed-out” the 8x1 portion with various props – all of which should be familiar to you by now. Notice, I kept the ramp and two sections of dock from the old lot. Once the lot was created, I used a little trick to plop it without fowling-up the ground level. I used the game’s “dialogue box” to set the sea level to “0” and removed the water. Then I extended a portion of land -- big enough for the 8x1 base lot – two tiles out into the harbor using the road plop method (quick and easy). The lot was then plopped along the old edge of the harbor (you can see the actual harbor side on both ends of the pier). The 8x1 lot is the only thing resting on land. On the left side, you can see how the land was extended out beyond the lot and overhanging pier. On the right side, you can see how the land was removed (road plop method) – after the lot was plopped -- to match the original harbor wall. Once the excess land has been removed, and the road pieces bulldozed, you can “save” the game and exit. When you reopen this map, the lot will be there, the land will be at the right level, and the water will return automatically. The finished result is a small lot with a very long overhanging pier. The lot can be plopped many times, end to end, to create any length pier you wish. The vacant areas on either side of the 8x1 lot can be filled with anything you like. In my case, I used a wide variety of 1x1, 1x2, and 1x3 custom-made modular lots to fill in the open spaces between the base lots. This also provides an ever-changing degree of variety to reduce the repetitive nature of the 8x1 base lot. In this shot you get a closer view of the variety of lots used to fill in the open spaces between the pier lots, and between those and the rail line. The whole puzzle blends together seamlessly to present the scene of a busy and crowded dock area. Now let us turn our attention to the purpose of “Pier 6” – a berth for several Omaha Class Scout Cruisers. The United States Navy had known since the Spanish-American War their fleet had insufficient cruisers to preform scouting duties. As usual, Congress was in no hurry to spend money on ships, so the situation remained in “limbo”. With the outbreak of war in Europe, the Navy got busy and began designing a “fleet scout cruiser”. The idea was very much similar to those of the European navies – a small cruiser scouting ahead of armored cruisers, which were followed by the dreadnoughts of the battle fleet. But the US Navy, far removed from the threatening situation across the Atlantic, did not think in tactical terms – such as gun turrets or shields, rather than open gun mounts – nor did they have any sense of urgency. The initial 1914 design went through several iterations before they were finally ordered in 1916. The model shown is of the “third” design from April 1915. This is a close-up of the USS Marblehead -- one of the Omaha Class ships. The picture shows the original gun armament of six 6-inch guns placed on pedestal mounts without shields – two forward of the bridge – two amidships, and two on the fantail. The cruiser displaced approximately 7,000 tons with a speed of 35 knots. She was also armed with 4x21-inch torpedo tubes and was capable of carrying 224 mines (notice the mine rails on the fantail). Early versions of the design also carried two Curtis floatplanes. And quite unusual for this period – USS Marblehead was designed with a 3-inch armor belt. Marblehead was among the first ships laid down, but in later versions the armament and it’s placement was completely altered – to include twin 6-inch turrets fore and aft. But this is a classic example of the original concept of a “scout cruiser” – long, narrow-hulled, four funnels, and shockingly fast for a WW I era cruiser. This beautifully detailed model is courtesy of @Barroco Hispano. (BTW -- all the cruiser models were graciously provided by Barroco Hispano.) At the end of the basin, we have some old sailing craft tied up at the mooring dolphins. The large one is the schooner Larkwind. She unloaded a cargo two days ago and is standing by while the freighting agent finds her another one. This out of the way mooring was just the place for a little rest. A small boat has returned with some fresh provisions, which will be welcome after a day of maintenance and generally tidying-up the little vessel. Schooners were intermediate sized vessels with small crews, reasonably fast, and shallow draft – good for the inshore trade. The three smaller boats are sloops -- much smaller, much faster, and very maneuverable in small inlets and shallow waters. A very small crew could easily handle a sloop which, along with schooners, made them very profitable to operate. This sort of ship was much prized by buccaneers during the Golden Age of Piracy in the Caribbean. The small ships looked relatively harmless to a Spanish galleon, but the agile sloops could sneak up after dark and thirty or forty cutthroat devils could swarm aboard the bigger ship and take her. Same scene – different angle. The sailing craft, mooring dolphins, and small boat are all the splendidly detailed work of “AP”. This is a tug station tucked into the lower birth of “Pier 5”. With the growing number of warships assigned to Cuxhaven, it was decided to bring in more tugs to handle them, but there was no room – so a new tug station was improvised. Here you see two older Nordwind tugs in the first row, with five Passat Class making up the balance. The Nordwind’s were originally designed by the Norddeutscher Line to handle large ocean liners and, at the Kaiser’s request, were also leased to the Kaiserliche Marine to handle dreadnought warships. (Later, new Passat tugs were built specifically for the Imperial Navy.) As warships and liners grew larger, the Nordwind’s were updated and modernized, resulting in the improved Passat design. Notice the control tower on the mole and the dockside activity. The amount of detail and texturing on “AP’s” tugboats is truly amazing and well worth a few minutes of close examination. The game has had a few tugboats – here and there -- but nothing of this caliber. Notice how the tugs fit snug against the “long pier”. That was one of the reasons I allowed the pier prop to overhang the front of the lot – the overhang closed the gap between the pier and the tug plopped alongside. This arrangement also allowed me the space to create an improvised tug station behind the pier. In the top left of the picture, you can see the end of the pier’s 8x1 base lot. Starting with the shipping containers, that entire row is composed of 1x1 custom-made modular lots. The control tower is a 1x2 borrowed from one of the maxis airports. The people milling about and the variety of clutter dockside lends a degree of authenticity to the scene. From left to right, you have two Town Class light cruisers – HMS Weymouth and HMS Dartmouth – and on the right, two Dresden Class light cruisers. They are also moored along “Pier 5”. This shot gives you an excellent view of how the dockside infrastructure is arranged between the neighboring basins. Just for reference – “Pier 4” is across the tracks behind the cruisers. The Dresden Class light cruisers were commissioned between 1906-1909 and were the standard pattern adopted by the Imperial Navy. With a 7-1 length to width ratio, they had an acceptable turn of speed and a respectable armament of 10x4.1 inch guns mounted in a combination of hull casemates and deck guns with open-backed shields. They would prove to be excellent for commerce raiding. The intricate detailing on these models is “First Class”. You will note they are painted in the “overseas paint scheme” – both ships spent most of their careers on foreign duty stations. (Full details on these ships can be found in Chapter 01.) Model graciously provided by “Barroco Hispano”. Moored ahead of the German light cruisers are two British cruisers -- HMS Weymouth and HMS Dartmouth (left). Weymouth was the name ship of one of the seven sub-classes of Town Class light cruisers (totaling 21 ships). I have included her here because she is the only British WWI light cruiser model I have – and – it is a very fine model and an excellent example of light cruisers of the era. (Model courtesy of “Barroco Hispano”.) The Town Class were long range cruisers designed to either scout for the fleet, or take care of business in the far flung corners of empire. These little ships were the “cavalry” of the fleet – racing ahead to investigate sighting reports from the destroyer screen, or ranging far ahead in search of the enemy. HMS Weymouth was among the most modern light cruisers in the Grand Fleet when war broke out in 1914. Commissioned in 1911, she was: 5,275 tons – 25 knots – 8x6-inch guns – 2x21-inch torpedo tubes – no belt armor. SMS Strassburg – a Magdeburg Class light cruiser – sister ships were SMS Magdeburg, Breslau, and Stralsund. This model retains the basics of the original German design, but shows the ship as modified during her later career in Italian service. (Details on this class were covered in Chapter 01.) This view also provides a good close-up of the details and activity on the docks. This is a view of the end of the mole. “Pier 5” is in the foreground – “Pier 4” is on the opposite side. The train in the center is preparing to unload cargo for “Pier 5”. The locomotive is a “Peg 4-6-4 Steam Tank Engine” and the rolling stock is also by PEG – for an obvious reason – all the models were rendered to the same scale. All “PEG” models – ships, trucks, and various props – were created slightly larger than their in-game surroundings. Back in ancient times – when @rsc204 taught me how to make lots (THANK YOU) – PEG made the only steam locomotive props available. That is why you see them so often in my harbors. The upside is that locomotives are rather big beasts and the size difference is only noticeable when they’re plopped next to buildings. (I have since acquired some beautiful steam locomotive models and rolling stock from “Barroco Hispano” – which you will see if we ever get to publish the “Bremerhaven” map tile.) You will also notice the green storage tanks on the right side of the picture (from IRM Industrials – I think). The height changes in the various pictures you have seen because they consist of four “timed props” that fill and empty on a regular basis. Be careful if you use similar timed props – to make sure they fill and empty in the proper sequence. At the end of the mole you can see a pair of “luggers” moored to dolphins. This is a close-up of the sailing brigs made fast at the end of the mole. Though brig-rigged (sometimes brigantine-rigged), these small cargo carriers are often lumped into the same category with “luggers”. The term “lugger” is often used to refer to any small sailing vessel (often smaller than a brig) specializing in short-haul coastal trading. The small ships are very handy in shallow, confined waters, and require only a small crew to sail. Brigs, though small, were specially built with more rounded underwater lines to carry additional cargo, while cleaner lines ensured their speed under sail. Sailing ships, both large and small, could still be found in harbors the world over up through the 1940’s, and turned impressive profit margins in the days before WW II. These beautiful and impressively detailed models are the flawless work of @AP. . NEXT TIME…… CUXHAVEN: THE PHOTO TOUR 16 MANY THANKS to @Barroco Hispano for his beautiful warship models. SPECIAL THANKS to my friend and partner, @AP, for his talents, meticulous models, colorful imagination, and extreme dedication. If you enjoyed anything – please punch the “like” button so WE will know. A comment would be even more informative. Comments and critiques requested and gratefully accepted. All questions answered promptly to the best of our ability. THANK YOU for your visit! You may wish to visit these CJ’s as well…… SERIES I: IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: WILHELMSHAVEN SERIES II: IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: CUXHAVEN Appearing – Work In Publication SERIES III: IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: BREMERHAVEN Appearing -- ??? And please feel free to drop in at… THE SIMTROPOLIS SHIPYARD https://community.simtropolis.com/forums/topic/761469-simtropolis-shipyard/?tab=comments#comment-1766496

IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: CUXHAVEN By: Dreadnought & AP Chapter 54: THE PHOTO TOUR 10 THE REPAIR AND REPLENISHMENT DOCKS Repair and replenishment of warships was an everyday task, and they were – perhaps – the two most important duties aboard ship. Regularly scheduled maintenance was necessary to keep these huge steel machines functioning smoothly, but there was always the unanticipated break-down to deal with. If you stop to think about the systems on a battleship or battlecruiser – electrical, hydraulic, freezer systems for frozen goods, boilers, turbines, turret machinery – they wouldn’t be there if they were not vital to the function of the ship. If the necessary repairs did not require the ship to be taken out of the water (a dry dock), then the Repair Dock was just the ticket. Mooring the ship to a large, permanent dock provided stability for big jobs, and easy access to machine shops and repair materials ashore. Replenishment, on the other hand, was an entirely different ballgame. Keeping 800 to 1,200 men properly fed, clothed, and housed on a daily basis was an enormous job, requiring close cooperation between a number of different departments aboard ship. If managed properly, ships at anchor could bring aboard small amounts of fresh provisions and ship’s stores from lighters alongside. It was relatively clean work, and a lighter could be emptied and the goods stowed away in less than two hours. If your Kapitan disliked lighters coming and going daily, then as little as two deliveries per week could be arranged. When the ships were deployed on extended maneuvers, the larders, bins, and freezers were packed full before departure and over the course of several weeks, the meals would dwindle down to brown “Brotchen” and canned meats and vegetables. Upon returning to harbor, the cupboard would be bare, so getting a berth at the Replenishment Dock was an absolute necessity. This is an overview of the Repair and Replenishment Docks (the berthing spaces could be used interchangeably). The docks were constructed at a right angle across the mouth of the Inner Basin. The docks were convenient to the ships in the Roadsted, and would separate the activity in the Inner Basin from ship traffic. To the right of the docks is yet another tug station. This one is very small compared to the others, but fits into the tiny space available – thanks to the “modular” components. Same station – different view. The “Paeng” grunge concrete overhanging prop pieces really came in handy to fill in along the railroad line. The tugs are – front to back – one Nordwind, two Thor Class, an Asgard, and three steam harbor tugs from “WolfZe”. Here you see an Ersatz Yorck Class battlecruiser moored to the dock. While undergoing her final speed trials, a vibration was noted in her port high speed turbine. A team of mechanics from Blohm & Voss is below decks making the necessary adjustments. A machinists barge has been brought alongside to deal with the more delicate aspects. The old steam tug Goliath is standing by the barge. The docks are from the “PEG SNM Battleship” series – considerably modified. They are 10x2, with the front lined by “WMP” seawalls acting as wooden buffers. The three tiles between the docks and the rail line are filled in with a wide variety of custom-made 1x1 fillers, many of which were modified from the “IRM Industrial Filler” set or the “NBVC Container Port” kit. The machinists barge was put together with two warehouses from the “NOB 1905” naval series, a barge created by “AP”, and filled out with some of “AP’s” sailors, barrels, and other assorted props. The steam tug Goliath is courtesy of Barroco Hispano, while the small boat coming alongside is by “AP”. The fabulously scratch-built SMS Ersatz Yorck is the flawless work of “AP”. The featured scene at this end of the dock is a work detail preforming maintenance and repair on a group of deck winches. Most capital ships were equipped with deck winches for any number of reasons. If one broke down or burnt-out (electric motors), they were sent ashore to be repaired or replaced with one that was functional. On this 1x2 custom-made lot, “AP” has provided a 10-ton steam crane with a winch ready to be lifted, a basic winch model, and the sailors gathered around working on them. The docks are dressed-out with a great many props of all sorts – anything that looks like it might be found on a working dock. In keeping with the “busy harbor” theory, I have tried to make the dockside scenes just as busy. The train preparing to unload cargo is a “PEG Tank Engine” modified for steam, with a cargo consisting of steam pipes, crates, and two diesel engines – which were used to power the electric dynamo’s aboard ships. Since Ersatz Yorck’s repairs are estimated to take two weeks, a harbor watch will be left aboard while others will be allowed either 24-hour “liberty passes”, or ten days leave – depending upon their supervising officer’s evaluation. About a quarter of the ship’s company has been mustered ashore to either receive their reward – or wish they were that lucky. This is the heavy cruiser USS Houston. She is not German, nor is she from the WW I era, but the model is a faithful recreation of some of the most handsome cruisers ever built for the US Navy (the Northampton Class). Commissioned in 1930, under the terms of the Washington Naval Treaty she was a bit light on armor, but qualified as a “heavy” cruiser because of her nine 8-inch, 55 caliber guns. Houston was capable of 32.7 knots and was a personal favorite of President Franklin D. Roosevelt, who cruised aboard her several times during the years between the wars. Assigned as the flagship, Asiatic Squadron, she was known far and wide as “The galloping ghost of the Java Coast”. Houston was sunk by the Japanese Navy at the Battle of Sunda Strait on the night of 28 February 1942. The Northampton Class cruisers were long and sleek, with a clipper bow, and capable of outrunning many contemporary destroyers. This shot provides a close-up of the excellent detail on the model provided courtesy of @Barroco Hispano. At center top of the picture, you can see an anchor maintenance enclosure, with a 10-ton steam crane, both new and rusty anchors with chains, and sailors chipping the rust and sanding them down. Crane, anchors, and sailors by “AP”. Next to the anchor enclosure, an Admiral is being greeted by a “side party” from Houston. He will lunch with the Kapitan and officers before their 2pm sailing time. Sailors and Admiral by “AP”. This is a close-up of the detail down at the end of the dock, next to the channel into the inner Basin. Most of the props should be familiar to you by now, but the 100-ton cranes on the docks are by “AP”, and on the left is a propeller maintenance pad. The lot is a custom-made 1x2 with a handful of old Maxis industrial props scattered around a 10-ton steam crane by “AP”. The bronze propellers, seamen, and workmen are also by “AP”. The battlecruiser SMS Mackensen would have been a slightly heavier and longer version of SMS Derfflinger – if she had ever been commissioned. (See Chapter 42 for details of the ship.) As battlecruisers got longer, they suffered from steering problems at low speeds and in shallow water (harbors). Mackensen has two tugs up forward, towing – two tugs astern “working drag” – and a tug on either beam in case she veers off course. The tugs and battlecruiser were all “plopped” individually. This view clearly shows the width of the Inner Basin channel, and on the right is the receiving pier where commercial goods are brought into the naval base. The Pier is re-lotted and modified from the “PEG Pier One” set. At the time this pier was assembled, models of merchant vessels were in short supply, so I had to use a model of the SS Red Oak Victory, a “Liberty Ship” commissioned into the US Merchant Marine in 1944 (Courtesy of “Barroco Hispano”). Here is an overview of the rear of the Repair and Replenishment Docks (inside the Inner Basin). Repairs of an extensive nature are usually made at the docks inside the Inner Basin, where there is less ship traffic. Three docks were “re-lotted” from the “PEG” materials, in 12x4 sections, and can be “plopped” in any sequence required. On the right end of the dock, the tug Thor has moved a lighter loaded with barrels against the dock. Once unloaded, the barrels will be moved to the warehouses at left for storage. These docks were taken from one of the “PEG SNM” series (can’t remember exactly which one), but just for the sake of variety, I did not face them with the “WMP Seawalls” as usual. The small white warehouses are from the “NOB 1905” naval series. You will note the transparency of the “Brigantine” water MOD allows you to see the seabed at 30 meters, so there is some barely discernible landscape down there – mostly “Girafe” cattails, feather grass, and some “NBVC” small rocks. The steam paddle tug Esmeralda has pulled a lumber lighter alongside the dock and the paddle tug Sophia is nudging it into place for unloading. Balk timber is always carried aboard warships for use in emergency repairs – plugging shell holes, shoring-up weak bulkheads, and patching holes in damaged decks. With heavy repair work, as performed at the docks, quantities of timber was used to build scaffolding for overhead work above decks, while timber could also be used to support weakened overhead decks while bulkhead partitions were repaired or replaced. Timber was just as essential to workmen as their hammers. Note the beautiful detail work on “AP’s” lighter and paddle tugs. It is a true pleasure to work with such fine models. This is a depiction of the extensive repair work done on SMS Seydlitz after the Battle of Jutland (See Chapter 38 for full details). Both aft turrets on the battlecruiser were burned out during the engagement. The floating crane is lifting out the damaged turrets and trunk apparatus and placing them on the adjacent barge. A machinists barge is alongside, and standing off, is a motor lighter with a new turret to be installed. From left to right, there are – two tugboats – the Langer Heinrich crane – a working barge with tugboat – a machinists barge with tugboat and small boat -- the Motor Lighter Ajax – and the battlecruiser. The two tugs and the crane were “plopped” as individual lots. The adjacent barge and tug were another lot. The machinists barge, tug, and small boat was a single lot. And the motor lighter and battlecruiser were also individual lots. Much like a jig-saw puzzle, all the lots were created for other purposes, but could also be assembled to create one large scene. The steam tug Goliath, standing by the machinists barge, is courtesy of “Barroco Hispano”, while all the remaining ships and boats visible in the picture are by @AP. This is a shot of the Motor Vessel Rian – typical of hundreds of small coastal trading vessels plying the waters of Europe in 1910 -- still numerous today. Easily maneuvered in small harbors and shallow channels, they require only a small crew to operate, and still perform invaluable service moving cargo to overlooked destinations. MV Rian by “Barroco Hispano”. Coastal trading vessels are much like hand-crafted Italian shoes – they come in all shapes and sizes, and fit the owner like a glove. The slightly larger MV Seeadler can be seen “working cargo” at the end of the dock, using her own cargo booms to hoist the goods ashore. If you look closely, you will notice the crewmen in the hold, rigging the crates. Yet another detailed model by “AP”. A close-up view of the docks, warehouses, and some of the activity. This is an overview of the area just beyond the docks. The Munitions Pier can be seen in the lower left. In the center of the picture, there is a group of ships moored to “dolphins”. Docks were very expensive to build and there were never enough to go around. It was not uncommon for large harbors to have rows of mooring dolphins constructed out in the open areas where ships could be moored without tying-up the available dock space. Our “dolphin row” was inspired by those found in old photos of the port of Hamburg. This is a first effort at this type of scene – and it will get better with practice. This shows the close-up detail of a “dolphin row”, with a Nordwind tug (right, outboard) – a Passat tug (moored inboard) – two Sophia Class steam paddle tugs – and a pair of sailing luggers. The first step to creating the dolphin row is to create a “base lot” with two pairs of dolphins, spaced slightly apart, in the middle of the lot tile, and overhanging the opposite sides of the tile. There are always empty mooring dolphins in a harbor, and you will need this lot to fill-in gaps between dolphin lots with moored ships. My harbors are 30 meters deep, so my dolphins are elevated 30 meters above the lot tile. Oddly enough, that is just adequate to cover the slanting bases of the dolphins with water. This is a slightly expanded view of the dolphin row, with a Prometheus Class collier in the foreground, and a Proteus Class collier in the background. Note the line of empty dolphins (base lots) trailing astern of the two ships. The next step is to populate the dolphin row with ships. The small paddle tugs only require a 1x2 lot – one tile for the centered dolphins, and one tile for the paddle tugs. ALWAYS use your “base lot” as the starting point for your “lot scene” – that way the dolphins will always match-up with each other. This shot gives you a view of the continuous dolphin row. If you tried to make this in one big lot – it would measure roughly 17x3. Anyone who has ever opened the Maxis “Lot Reader” to change the “lotconfigproperty” on a lot that size – usually winds up in a “rest home”. Make the row lots modular – one for paddle tugs -- one for luggers – others as single ships. All of the @AP models are well balanced with tight “LOD’s” and can always be lotted as overhanging props. Smaller ships (tugs – lighters) can be lotted as 1x2’s. Larger ships are usually 2x2’s – and no more than a 3x3 – unless you want more than one ship per lot. You can make big, complicated lots – but I highly recommend modular lots that can be assembled into a larger scene on the map tile. NEXT TIME…… CUXHAVEN: THE PHOTO TOUR 11 MANY THANKS to @Barroco Hispano for his beautiful warship models. SPECIAL THANKS to my friend and partner, @AP, for his talents, meticulous models, colorful imagination, and extreme dedication. If you enjoyed anything – please punch the “like” button so WE will know. A comment would be even more informative. Comments and critiques requested and gratefully accepted. All questions answered promptly to the best of our ability. THANK YOU for your visit! You may wish to visit these CJ’s as well…… SERIES I: IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: WILHELMSHAVEN SERIES II: IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: CUXHAVEN Appearing – Work In Publication SERIES III: IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: BREMERHAVEN Appearing -- ??? And please feel free to drop in at… THE SIMTROPOLIS SHIPYARD https://community.simtropolis.com/forums/topic/761469-simtropolis-shipyard/?tab=comments#comment-1766496

IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: CUXHAVEN By: Dreadnought & AP Chapter 50: THE PHOTO TOUR 06 THE WEST LOCH – Part 06 This chapter will wrap-up our tour of the West Loch – with a look at the permanent berths along the breakwater. There are, basically, two types of harbors in the world – “natural” and “man-made”. The natural harbor is just that – a terrain feature created by nature that is large enough and deep enough to accommodate large ships, while sheltering them from the ill-effects of stormy seas. Examples of a natural harbor might be Oslo, Norway, the Thames Estuary, or New York. A man-made harbor is usually found on an open, exposed stretch of shoreline with no surrounding land features to block the wave action caused by heavy seas. An offshore breakwater has to be constructed to provide an area of calm water behind it. That is exactly what was done in the West Loch. The original shallow bay was too small to accommodate numbers of large ships, so the breakwater was constructed offshore to create a sufficiently large safe anchorage. This is a clear view of the breakwater constructed to form the renovated West Loch anchorage. The engineers saved a few Marks by using the only natural island as part of the breakwater. It was later decided to add permanent mooring points along the breakwater to accommodate the growing numbers of armored cruisers. The Kaiserliche Marine traditionally favored permanent mooring arrangements, usually at quays and docks, but could not afford the expense of building numerous new docks – so “mooring points” became the alternative. (By contrast, the Royal Navy, long before Nelson’s day, chose to anchor far offshore -- in the Solent and the Thames Estuary. Unbelievably large numbers of British tars could not swim, so it was a simple means of preventing sailors from “jumping ship”.) Here is a closer look at the join between the breakwater and the island. As already mentioned, these breakwaters are by “Uki”. It is a Japanese website, but the lots are in common usage in SC4 and should be readily obtainable. I tested every available breakwater set and settled on these because they were (for the most part) easy to work with and are certainly the most realistic available. You will notice two light cruisers have been moored at a temporary buoy just off the island. Moored at the buoy offshore of the island are the light cruisers SMS Karlsruhe and her sister ship Konigsburg. They were commissioned in 1915 and were among the most modern in the Hochseeflotte. German light cruisers were widely known to be handled aggressively, and at 27.5 knots and packing eight 5.9-inch guns – they were fast with a formidable “bite”. The cruiser models were generously provided by @Barroco Hispano. This is the same scene from a different angle. This gives you a close-up detail shot of how the island has been put together. The basic land mass was created by raising the land level some 15 meters above sea level (about 45 meters above the seabed). I gave the island an irregular shape to make it more “natural”, then used the “God Mode” tools to lower some of it below sea level. Once the rough shape was achieved, I used the “softening tool” to give it a smooth, rounded look with gently sloping sides that ease down into the water. I then applied a scattering of various bushes and ground cover. This was followed by MMP trees by @Girafe. The “earthen” areas were painted with “Heblem” brown sand, and the light gray sand – which actually looks more like loose gravel. Finally, I dotted the underwater areas with “Girafe” cattails and feather grass. It took the best part of an afternoon and evening to finish the island – very tedious and a lot of “trial and error” – but I think it was worth it. The most difficult part of building the island and the breakwater was finding a way to bring the breakwater ashore. The “Uki” set does not include a specialized piece that merges the breakwater with the shore line. Apparently he thought offshore breakwaters were sufficient and there was no need to attach them to land. The “Uki” pieces are placed at sea level – no higher, and no lower. If you try to bring it ashore on a raised land area – it jumps up and towers over the other breakwater pieces out in the ocean. So the secret is to lower the land below sea level (like digging a small trench) where it comes ashore – while matching the height of the offshore breakwater pieces. Then you can cover the “watery ditch” with large rocks, small stones, and overhanging trees that will cover up the “join area”. It’s not a perfect solution to the visual problem – things always look different when you change camera angles – but it was the best I could do. The rocks and stones are by either “PEG” or “NBVC” – I think – I could be wrong about that. One last view of the island. This is the armored cruiser SMS Yorck (not to be confused with the later battlecruiser class). You will notice there is a “change-of-command” ceremony in progress on the forecastle deck. You will also notice the boat boom and small boats deployed on the port quarter. The boom and boats were lotted as a stand-alone lot designed to be plopped alongside any warship you like. Model by AP. (Complete details on the armored cruiser can be found in Chapter 06.) The armored cruisers SMS Prinz Adalbert and Friedrich Carl. (For full details on the armored cruisers – see Chapter 05.) This beautifully rendered model of SMS Furst Bismarck is being nudged into the berth by two tugs – Nordwind on the left – and the more modern Passat on the right. All three are the meticulous work of @AP. (Details on Furst Bismarck are in Chapter 03.) SMS Hertha and Hansa, both painted in “foreign station” livery. The two protected cruisers spent most of their service life on the China Station. You will note Hansa is lowering a manned cutter over the side, while a small dinghy is unloading boxes of supplies up forward. Cruisers by “AP”. (Details can be found in Chapter 02.) Another view of the protected cruisers. NEXT TIME…… CUXHAVEN: THE PHOTO TOUR 07 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 49: THE PHOTO TOUR 05 THE WEST LOCH – Part 05 This chapter will cover some of the activity out in the roadsted of the West Loch. Like most harbors -- even small ones – there are assigned berths, usually around the edges of the open water areas. Out in the open waters there will always be mooring buoys for ships temporarily assigned to the squadron, just arrived and needing replenishment before berthing, or those preparing to sail. This overview shows the open water area in the center of the roadsted. The six ships moored to temporary buoys are part of an eight ship squadron being assembled for transfer to the German East Asiatic Squadron. The two Dresden Class light cruisers tied-up at the repair dock also belong to the squadron. The two large armored cruisers (Scharnhorst left – Gneisenau right) are Germany’s newest and most powerful cruisers and will constitute the strongest European cruiser force in the Far East. (See Chapter 07 for full details.) You will notice they have been painted in their “foreign station” livery – white hulls, yellow ochre upper works, and black funnel caps. They are beehives of activity as last minute preparations for sailing are completed. Gneisenau was abruptly recalled from diplomatic port calls to join the squadron and is in the process of taking aboard last minute stores and provisions. The crane barge is transferring cargo from another barge alongside. Forgive me for taking a hasty picture – there should be cargo on the barge – but it’s a “timed prop”, and I forgot. The crane barge and cargo barge were borrowed from “PEG’s Bubba’s Bulk Barge”. The white steam tug was “gifted” by “WolfZe”. The two paddle tugs handling the big cargo barge are the fine work of “AP” – as are the two small boats rowing out to the armored cruiser – no doubt the crews last mail delivery before sailing. Gneisenau is also the impeccable work of "AP". This shot gives you an excellent view of the detail on “AP’s” paddle tug (Esmeralda). I’m really quite fond of these little beauties, and I try to work them into as many scenes as possible. In this shot, you can actually see the cargo on the barge – and you will notice the sailors “working cargo” as they stand atop the crates. I tried to put sailors on the crane barge, but some of those old PEG models have horrible LOD problems. This view of Gneisenau’s fantail shows the crew carrying boxes and crates down the aft hatch – which indicates provisions and supplies for the officer’s wardroom – or possibly the Kapitan’s pantry. This also gives you another view of the excellent detail built into “AP’s” armored cruiser – absolutely flawless. SMS Scharnhorst is the flagship of Konteradmiral Maximillian von Spee, ordered to assume command of the East Asiatic Squadron upon arrival in the Far East. She and Gneisenau constituted a two-ship class. In this shot, a motor launch is alongside to port, while the boat boom is deployed on the starboard side. The mooring buoy, motor launch, boat boom, and small boats are courtesy of “AP”. Port side view. The Scharnhorst Class armored cruisers have been touted by many analysts as the most handsome armored cruisers ever built. But – other analysts claim that honor for the USS Tennessee Class armored cruisers. This a close-up of the magnificent detail worked into AP’s model. Notice the compass platform between the fourth funnel and the aft mast. The motor launch pulling alongside is probably carrying last minute mail for the crew as well as dispatches, directives, and even diplomatic pouches bound for the Far East. Kaiserliche Marine ships transiting to the Far East were often used as “mail” ships, making frequent stops along the way to deliver official correspondence. On Scharnhorst’s starboard side, the boat boom has been deployed. The boom was a common feature of the era and provided a convenient mooring point for small boats going to and from the cruiser – avoiding the laborious necessity of continually launching and hoisting the boats inboard. The boat boom and the boats tied to it are arranged on a single 1x1 lot plopped adjacent to the ship. The two boats approaching the boom are on another 1x1 lot. Moored ahead of the armored cruisers are two French light cruisers of the Jurien de la Graviere Class. I elected to use them in the scenario because the number of German cruiser models available was somewhat limited. The de la Graviere’s were, in fact, active prior to, and during WW I, and are quite interesting in their appearance. The Jurien de la Graviere Class cruisers are indicative of French naval architecture of the period -- distinctive for the numerous funnels aboard their ships – and unique in the way they tended to separate them into groups. (For more details on Graviere, see Chapter 27.) The Jurien de la Gravier model was graciously provided by @Barroco Hispano and you can see the intricate detailing in the level of clutter displayed amidships. The main armament sponsoned outboard from the hull is carefully portrayed with the armored port shields in the “open” position – perhaps a minor point – but very realistic. This is the SS Erlangen, a collier leased from the Norddeutscher Shipping Line, which will accompany the Squadron on their journey to the Far East. (For the back-story and details, see Chapter 27.) This model is a beautiful scratch-built rendition created by @AP and is modeled after the US Navy Prometheus Class colliers. From the weathered hull, to the rusty brown forecastle deck plating, and the soot-smudged funnels – she is every bit a worn and over-worked collier from the early years of the 20th Century. The detail and texturing are simply superb. Though based on a US Navy collier, she has all of the characteristics found in other colliers of the period, and has the fine lines of the original design. Center stage in this shot is USS Proteus, name ship of a class of four colliers built for the US Navy in the early 1900’s as commissioned naval auxiliaries. (For the back-story and details, see Chapter 27.) The Kaiserliche Marine relied almost entirely upon the Norddeutscher Line for collier support, but I chose this vessel to represent “government-owned” colliers, largely because her design is unique among all the colliers. Notice all the activity going on around the moored collier – the berthed cruisers at the top, tugs and lighters coming and going, and small boats moving around the harbor. Again – the theory of the “busy harbor” – taken from old photos of Hamburg, Wilhelmshaven, Rotterdam, and even New York, -- crowded, cluttered, and above all – busy. This is a close-up of Proteus’ aft superstructure, which has a great deal of detail packed into a small area. The main purpose of the ship was to carry a lot of coal, and her designers kept that in mind. Once again, “AP” has created a beautiful scratch-built model based on photos and line drawings – complete with a detailed operational rig of the coaling booms. This model was particularly satisfying for me because “AP” brought to life many of the details photos didn’t, and 2-D line drawings couldn’t. You have, doubtless, noticed the ever-present “seagulls”. I have never found a harbor or an inland waterway without them – so I developed a special 1x1 lot using the Maxis “seagull effect”. The lot can be plopped on the seabed, thereby avoiding the need to place them in fixed locations ashore. This is a shot of the Protected Cruiser SMS Victoria Louise putting to sea through the north entrance of the breakwater. (See Chapter 02 for full details on the ship.) The Victoria Louise Class were small cruisers by later standards, but she made a fabulously detailed model in “AP’s” talented hands. There were five ships in all, and this one is painted in ”foreign station” livery – representing three of the original ships that served overseas. She is equipped with a “stern walk” – indicating her intended use as a foreign station flagship. It is a handsome model with a wealth of faithfully rendered detail. NEXT TIME…… CUXHAVEN: THE PHOTO TOUR 06 MANY THANKS to @Barroco Hispano for his beautiful warship models. SPECIAL THANKS to my friend and partner, @AP, for his talents, meticulous models, colorful imagination, and extreme dedication. If you enjoyed anything – please punch the “like” button so WE will know. A comment would be even more informative. Comments and critiques requested and gratefully accepted. All questions answered promptly to the best of our ability. THANK YOU for your visit! You may wish to visit these CJ’s as well…… SERIES I: IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: WILHELMSHAVEN SERIES II: IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: CUXHAVEN Appearing – Work In Publication SERIES III: IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: BREMERHAVEN Appearing -- ??? And please feel free to drop in at… THE SIMTROPOLIS SHIPYARD https://community.simtropolis.com/forums/topic/761469-simtropolis-shipyard/?tab=comments#comment-1766496

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The British Battlecruiser Fleet engaged with Hipper’s 1st Scouting Group – HMS Lion, Princess Royal, Tiger, and New Zealand. The 5th Battle Squadron can be seen far to the rear. IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: CUXHAVEN By: dreadnought & AP Chapter 31: RUN TO THE NORTH Vice-Admiral Beatty’s Battlecruiser Fleet was steaming SE at 22 knots, hotly engaged with the Imperial German battlecruisers of the Hochseeflotte’s 1st Scouting Group. The British Admiral had already lost two battlecruisers to enemy fire, but had the overwhelming support of four Queen Elizabeth Class fast-battleships of the 5th Battle Squadron. Heavily armored, with mighty 15-inch guns, they were the most powerful dreadnought battleships in the world. Beatty fully intended to cut off the German squadron’s line of retreat and annihilate it. But the designs of mortal man stand little chance against the whims of “The Gods”. Beatty “the fox-hunter” was about to become “the hunted”. Two wireless sighting reports were received on HMS Lion’s bridge around 16:38 -- almost simultaneously – one from HMS Southampton (Commodore Goodenough) and another from HMS Champion… ”Urgent – Priority – Have sighted enemy battle fleet bearing SE – enemy course N – dreadnoughts in van - my position Lat. 56-34 N – Lng. 6-20 E.” This news came as a great shock to Beatty, and though still engaged with Hipper’s battlecruisers, he immediately altered course toward Southampton’s position. Just five hours ago, he had been informed the German battle fleet was at anchor in the Jade – he needed to see this with his own eyes. Within a very few minutes, the masses of smoke with the long line of battleships beneath came into view. Beatty instantly realized he’d been led into a trap by Hipper. He had to extricate his battered squadrons from certain destruction, and once that was done -- lure both Hipper and Scheer onto the waiting guns of the Grand Fleet. At 16:40, Beatty hoisted the flag signal for a 16 point (180 degree) turn to starboard, “in succession” – then signaled “recall” to his skirmishing destroyers and light cruisers. The big battlecruisers heeled hard over as they swung to starboard at 22 knots, then took up a course NNE. The “Run To The South” was over – but the “Run To The North” was only just beginning. And it was beginning badly. When HMS Southampton sighted the German battle fleet, Evan-Thomas’ 5th Battle Squadron was still eight miles astern of Beatty’s battlecruisers. HMS Barham continued to close the distance, and switched her fire to SMS Moltke, engaging her to great effect. Three certain hits on Moltke were observed, but the Gunnery Officer ordered a switch to the more powerful armor-piercing Lyddite shells, and these were virtually smokeless, so no further hits could be seen. The return fire from Moltke was doing great internal damage to Barham and caused heavy casualties among the crew -- but, curiously, there was little external “scarring”. Beatty relied on flag signals since his dynamos were acting up -- no doubt due to the pounding Lion had received -- and his wireless transmitters were only sending at half-power. Unfortunately, Barham’s Captain Craig could not see the flags. Not only was he trailing far behind the battlecruisers, but the weather had suddenly closed-in and he could hardly see the ships, let alone their flag signals. When Beatty suddenly put-about and headed north, Craig thought they turned to port rather than starboard. He only caught a fleeting glimpse suggesting the German battlecruisers were giving chase and heading north as well. For a few minutes, Evan-Thomas and his staff were puzzled. Was Beatty retreating north with the Germans in hot pursuit? Or were the Germans trying to flee through the Skagerrak to safety in the Baltic? The bewilderment on Barham’s bridge was quite understandable. The battleship’s wireless room had been wrecked, and Beatty had not bothered to repeat Southampton’s sighting report – Evan-Thomas did not even know Scheer’s battle fleet had been sighted. By now, funnel smoke and gun smoke had darkened the sky, and mixed with a steadily thickening mist until it was nearly impossible to tell where the battle was, or where it was going. And so it came to pass that, around 16:48, Evan-Thomas and his four super-dreadnoughts were steaming south at 24 knots, and about to pass Beatty’s battlecruisers steaming north at 22 knots. Just before HMS Barham thundered past, Beatty hoisted the same flag signal ordering a 16 point turn in succession to starboard. Evan-Thomas still hadn’t a clue as to why – but Barham promptly acknowledged the signal. Now “Fate” once again intervened in the guise of Beatty’s hapless flag-lieutenant, Ralph Seymour. Barham waited for the order to “execute” the maneuver. That was standard signaling procedure. When the Admiral commanding wanted the maneuver to begin, he hauled down his signal flags – which was the order to “execute”. Only then, would the receiving ship, or column, begin to turn. As Lion charged past the 5th Battle Squadron, every ship was able to read the flags – because Seymour never hauled them down! In this picture, you see a column of battleships steaming in “line-ahead” formation. They are executing a “16 point turn to starboard in succession”. In the Royal Navy, a “16 point turn” is simply a 180 degree turn, or, reversing course. “In succession” is a bit more complicated. Counting from the rear of the formation (on right) – the 4th ship is about to start it’s turn. The 5th, 6th, and 7th ships are making the turn. And the 8th ship has completed the turn and steadied-up on a NE course. Each ship must, in turn, steam to position #4 to start it’s turn – thereby turning each successive ship in the same spot. (Kind of like racing yachts rounding the same course buoy -- only much more organized). This is an excellent formation for ship handling in large or small formations. It is a simple maneuver, easily executed, and keeps the #8 ship at the head of the formation (possibly the flagship). The maneuver will also work in a sailing formation with multiple columns of battleships. It also helps a commander keep tight control of his ships because it is very “organized” and discourages reckless behavior. However, in Beatty’s particular situation, it was not the wisest choice he could have made (see text below). Notice the width of distance between ship #4 and ship #8. This is the width of the “turning circle” and clearly demonstrates why all ships should be designed with similar turning circles – and as small as possible. Both USS Oklahoma models (ortho & diagonal) provided by @Barroco Hispano. Five minutes may not seem a very long time, but it was long enough to put Evan-Thomas two miles farther along his course, and to put five miles between him and Beatty. To compound the matter, Beatty had ordered a “turn in succession” to starboard – not the best choice he could have made. As seen in the picture above, a “turn in succession” forces all the ships to turn in the very same patch of ocean. Not only does this maneuver take longer to finish, but in battle, it allows an enemy to concentrate their fire on a single spot and pound each ship as it makes the turn. By now, Evan-Thomas was almost out of sight of Beatty’s battlecruisers, and the reason for Beatty’s sudden course change came steaming over the southeastern Horizon – the whole of the High Sea Fleet. III Battle Squadron of the Hochseeflotte – the eight ships of the Konig and Kaiser Classes in the vanguard (van) of the battle fleet. They are seen in line-ahead steaming north to support Hipper’s Panzerkreuzer. (Claus Bergen) Vizeadmiral Reinhard Scheer, Flottenchef of the Hochseeflotte, stood on the bridge of his flagship, SMS Friedrich der Grosse, as she steamed north at 15 knots. Occasionally, he scanned the northern horizon with his glasses. The wireless room had been receiving regular sighting reports from Vizeadmiral Hipper in SMS Lutzow, so he knew he was approaching the scene of action. What’s more, he would have known he was gradually closing the trap on Beatty’s battlecruisers and the accompanying battleships of the 5th Battle Squadron. And – so far – there had been no evidence placing the Grand Fleet at sea in support of Beatty. This was exactly the kind of ambush the Kaiserliche Marine had been trying to pull off for years. The 4th Scouting Group (light cruisers SMS Stettin, Munchen, Frauenlob, and Stuttgart) and their attendant torpedo boats were deployed about six miles ahead of the battle fleet, while torpedo boat flotillas screened both flanks of the battle line. Around 15:50, Friedrich der Grosse hoisted the signal to “Clear ship for battle” and the klaxons sounded the call. Men dashed about the various decks, running and dodging other men as they made for their assigned stations. The reports began to flow into the Central Command Position deep inside the armored hull...”Artillerie clear” – “Torpedo arm clear” – “Boiler room manned and clear” – “Combat dressing station clear” – “Maschinen spaces clear”. Twelve minutes after the call sounded, “CCP” reported to Kapitan zur See Fuchs...”Ship is clear for battle”. SMS Friedrich der Grosse – Kaiser Class dreadnought battleship – commissioned 1912: 24,724 tons – 22.4 knots – 10x12-inch guns – 14x5.9-inch guns – 12x3.5-inch guns – 5x19.7-inch torpedo tubes. Friedrich der Grosse served as the flagship of the Hochseeflotte from her commissioning until March 1917, when she was replaced with the newly commissioned 15-inch-gunned SMS Baden. The Kaiser Class ships were the second-most modern dreadnoughts of the Kaiserliche Marine and served with the Konig Class in the III Battle Squadron. (Model courtesy of Barroco Hispano.) In the picture below, you will notice that her 565-foot length did not provide sufficient distance between the midships turrets to allow for cross-deck firing. Though possible, the firing arcs would have been woefully inadequate. An additional 60 feet would have made all the difference. The detail of the model is superb, but an error occurred in the arrangement of the midships wing turrets. They are positioned properly on the deck, but the turrets are improperly oriented. German capital ships with this “lozenge pattern” amidships, have the starboard wing turret facing forward, with the port wing turret facing aft. Other than this blindingly obvious “boo-boo” – the model’s detailing is accurate and absolutely exquisite. It is so richly detailed – I simply could not bring myself to leave it out of the CJ. (My apologies.) Around 16:11, with the Hochseeflotte just below the horizon from Hipper, Scheer ordered the battle line to close-up and maintain 500 meters between ships. The gun crews in the big, squat turrets stood frozen, waiting for commands, as the officers behind their rangefinders eagerly scanned the horizon. At 16:30, SMS Konig – leading the battle line – signaled...”Enemy in sight – ahead – 28,000”. As Konteradmiral Behncke watched, the haze and battle smoke rose to reveal a scene of organized chaos. To starboard were Hipper’s Panzerkreuzer on a southerly course, closely engaged with two groups of British capital ships to port – quickly closing the range to the Hochseeflotte. Destroyers, torpedo boats, and light cruisers were swirling and clawing at each other between the big ships, while other British light cruisers could be seen approaching to the west. Scheer signaled for 17 knots to close more quickly. Had the German Flottenchef been more critical in the planning stages of this sortie, he could have ordered 20 or 21 knots – the speed of his dreadnought battleships. But the German battle fleet was hampered by the slow speed of the six pre-dreadnoughts of II Battle Squadron. The old battleships (5 Deutschland Class and 1 Braunschweig Class) were rated at 18 knots, but most likely had to struggle just to sustain 17 knots. The slow speed and comparative vulnerability of the pre-dreadnoughts would limit Scheer’s tactical options and automatically give the Grand Fleet a 4 knot speed advantage. At 16:38, SMS Konig’s foretop lookout reported the British turning onto a northerly course, and two minutes later, Scheer signaled the battleship divisions for a 2 point turn to port, to close the range more quickly. He was within just a few thousand yards of closing the ambush and having Beatty under his guns. He then signaled...”fire distribution order...right to left...ship against ship.” And just two minutes later...”Open fire !” SMS Konig opens fire on Beatty’s battlecruisers at 16:48. Note the massive clouds of Cordite smoke. Now you understand why, after two or three minutes, with ten or twenty ships firing, it would be all but impossible to get a clear view of anything. SMS Konig, leading the battle line, opened at 16:48 – her target HMS Lion – but the range was too great and she ceased fire after two salvos. At this point, it should be remembered Admiral Tirpitz had arbitrarily ruled out the possibility of a fleet engagement beyond 11,000 yards. Consequently, many of the German capital ships were capable of no more than 13.5 degrees of elevation – effectively limiting them to a maximum engagement range of 17,700 yards. When taken under fire, HMS Lion was at approximately 20,500 yards – hopelessly out of range. The failure of Tirpitz to grasp the advances in modern gunnery technology (see chapter 23) had led to poorly designed turrets with too little elevation and range. (After Dogger Bank, German battleships began receiving turret modifications to increase elevation and range – but not all had been completed prior to Jutland.) Tirpitz had given the British a “gift” – and Beatty’s battlecruisers escaped from Scheer’s carefully crafted trap. With Beatty steaming north at high speed, still closely engaged with Hipper’s battlecruisers, 5th Battle Squadron held on -- waiting for Seymour to haul down Lion’s signal flags. Evan-Thomas’ battleships were charging down on the entire High Sea Fleet like the Light Brigade at Balaclava – and that simply would not do. The Admiral finally decided to act on “his own initiative”, and signaled his squadron to...“Conform to flagship’s maneuvers”. HMS Barham’s helm went hard-a-starboard and began to turn away from the enemy. Evan-Thomas might have had four of the most powerful battleships afloat – but he was nobody’s fool – he didn’t fancy being outnumbered four-to-one. As 5th Battle Squadron began their turn, the leading German dreadnoughts took Barham under fire, but the range was still too great. However, Admiral Behncke, having missed Beatty’s battlecruisers -- was determined Evan-Thomas’ ships would not get away. On his own initiative, he signaled III Battle Squadron to “...go to utmost speed...everything the engines can do!” The stand-by stokers poured into the stokeholds to lend their muscle, while the engineers opened up the valves on the oil sprayers. Steam pressure in the boilers began to climb and the thick, oily smoke belched from the funnels as the dreadnoughts gathered speed. Suddenly, the tables had turned and Hipper was chasing Beatty, while Behncke was chasing Evan-Thomas. About the same time, German lookouts sighted Goodenough’s 2nd Light Cruiser Squadron approaching from the northwest. Scheer ordered the battle fleet to engage them with the 5.9-inch secondary batteries – to keep them out of torpedo range. Scheer’s dreadnoughts, holding course to the north, continued to close both Evan-Thomas and Beatty. The 5th Battle Squadron had just began to turn away, and the rear of Beatty’s battlecruisers were, actually, still completing their turn. Unfortunately, Beatty’s flag signal had called for a 16 point turn to starboard “in succession” for both groups. That meant the ships had to continue to steam toward the enemy until they reached the appointed position to begin the turn (see picture above). And each ship would have to turn in the exact same spot – while the German battle fleet closed the range. A distinct tactical blunder on Beatty’s part. For the next few minutes, the leading German dreadnoughts (Konig, Grosser Kurfurst, Markgraf, and Kronprinz) fired ranging salvos that fell short. But as HMS Barham completed her turn and steadied-up on a northerly course (about 16:46), she was hit by a heavy caliber shell from Lutzow, penetrating the forecastle deck abaft “A” turret and exploding on the battery deck below, destroying several compartments and starting a considerable fire. As Behncke’s dreadnoughts came into range, a veritable fusillade followed. Around 16:58, another 12-inch shell ripped a 5-foot hole in Barham’s upper deck near the 6-inch casemate battery, before exploding below and ripping a 10-foot hole in the main deck. The blast wrecked the Medical Store and the Auxiliary Wireless Office, with an unusually large chunk of shrapnel penetrating the armor of the lower conning tower. The Platform Deck was also pierced by red-hot shrapnel, starting a fire and filling the 6-inch magazine and shell room with smoke, while disabling two ammunition hoists. Two minutes later, a shell landed on the aft superstructure near the mainmast, taking out several officer’s cabins, starting a large fire, and knocking-out the main wireless station. Around 17:06 a large caliber shell struck the ship’s side in the fantail area, detonating on contact with the main deck and blowing a 7 x 3-foot hole in it, while blowing another hole in the middle deck below. Shell fragments caused extensive damage to the main, middle, and lower decks – starting a large fire that nearly gutted three decks and all the officer’s accommodations. The last shell struck at 17:10, piercing the forecastle deck just forward of the starboard #1 6-inch gun casemate – peeling back the 1.5-inch deck plates, showering the forecastle with splinters, and starting yet another fire. Though still an effective fighting unit, Barham had suffered serious internal damage and taken substantial losses among the crew. HMS Valiant, also turning on the same point in succession, seemed immune to the enemy fire. Though straddled regularly, the decks deluged with thousands of gallons of water thrown up by near-misses, the battleship emerged from the danger zone unscathed. HMS Warspite followed Valiant through the maze of shell splashes – tall water columns erupting on all sides – water cascading down upon her decks – and the thunder of her own guns shaking the ship with each salvo. During the turn to the north, Valiant was hit with three large caliber shells, but the timing was not noted in her log. One shell struck near the stern, punching through the lower strake of the armor belt below the waterline, and detonated after penetrating the aft capstan flat. The blast blew out a bulkhead and flooded both flats on the middle deck. Another shell struck near the stern below the Admiral’s Day Cabin – right on the waterline. This one opened a hole 4 x 3-feet to the sea, and split the hull plates open for some twenty feet – causing even more flooding in the stern. The last shell struck the upper 6-inch armor strake ahead of the starboard #1 6-inch gun and penetrated twenty-five feet before exploding on the battery deck. The blast shattered two compartments and sent large splinters tearing through compartments as far as forty feet away. By comparison, Warspite’s damage was comparatively light. Malaya’s captain, observing the forest of shell splashes ahead, started his turn earlier, but still received the full fury of the German gunners. SMS Von der Tann took Malaya under fire at 17:00, joined by Kronprinz at 17:06, Kaiser at 17:08, and Moltke at 17:27. (SMS Konig, Grosser Kurfurst, and Markgraf were engaging, respectively, HMS Barham, Valiant, and Warspite.) Konteradmiral Behncke’s dreadnoughts had worked-up to 22 knots, but Evan-Thomas’ faster battleships began to pull away to the north. For fully five minutes during the turn, and the following thirty-five minutes after shaping course north, Malaya was the target of the crack gunnery ships of the German III Battle Squadron. Between six and nine salvos per minute rained down around the super-dreadnought. One of Malaya’s turret captains recalled…… “As I trained my turret around to engage over the starboard side, my telescope revealed the battlecruisers some 8,000 yards ahead of us, and it dawned on me that the four of us of the 5th Battle Squadron would now become the sole source of entertainment for the High Sea Fleet...I expected at any moment any one of those shells should hit us in the right place...our speed would be sadly reduced...and we should fall behind and be sunk...” In the first seventeen minutes, Malaya was struck seven times, with the first shell landing around 17:20 and striking the lower 8-inch belt armor abaft “A” turret. The armor was driven in about two inches with the hull plating behind it driven in also – starting several leaks. The second shell struck the roof of “X” turret at 18:27 – detonating on impact. The blast lifted the armored roof clear of the gun house by about three inches, sheered-off many securing bolts, and put the turret’s “local” rangefinder out of action. At 18:30 a large caliber shell struck the superstructure just behind “B” turret and beneath the bridge, blasting a large hole and starting a raging fire. At the same time a second shell, probably from the same salvo, struck the forecastle deck immediately above the #3 6-inch casemate gun. The impact ripped up the deck planking and left a 5 x 3-foot hole before exploding below – taking out forecastle deck beams, shredding several compartments, distorting the deck plating on the forecastle and battery decks, and carrying away voice pipes, electrical leads and ventilation trunking, as well as blowing the 6-inch gun overboard and starting yet another fire. Eventually, all the starboard 6-inch casemate guns were put out of action by the fire and 102 men became casualties. The flash from the resulting cordite fires also shot down into the 6-inch shell room, forcing prompt action to flood the magazine. This act most likely prevented the adjacent 15-inch “B” turret magazine from exploding and destroying the ship. As destructive as that single shell had been, two more followed simultaneously at 18:35. Probably from the same tightly grouped salvo, the two 12-inch rounds struck Malaya in almost the same area, but below the waterline and below the belt armor. The first shell detonated after impact, ripping a 7 x 4-foot hole in the inner bottom, and leaving hull plates and inner frames torn and buckled. The second shell punched a large hole in the outer skin, but failed to explode and passed out through the double bottom creating another large hole. The end result was serious flooding of two outer oil bunkers and several wing compartments, causing Malaya to take on a 4-degree starboard list within ten minutes. A final large shell struck the 6-inch side armor between “A” and “B” turrets, but detonated on impact, driving in the armor plate some three inches and showering a vast area with splinters. The 4-degree list actually effected her main gun elevation and shortened her firing range. HMS Malaya returning fire on the Hochseeflotte approximately 17:35. The fore-top of HMS Valiant can just be seen above the gun smoke. Malaya’s thick armor belt was undoubtedly effective, but in all truth, it was the handling skill of Captain Algernon Boyle that saved her. For very nearly an hour, with double helmsmen at the wheel, he made sudden and random course changes, throwing off the aim of the German gunners. In spite of Captain Boyle throwing the massive battleship around like a destroyer, Malaya’s gunnery -- and that of the entire 5th Battle Squadron -- was superb. The four fast-battleships rained down as many as sixteen salvos a minute on their German opponents. Four of Hipper’s battlecruisers (still in range) and two of Konteradmiral Behncke’s dreadnoughts were hit by the 1,900-pound 15-inch shells. Five hits were made on SMS Seydlitz alone, several of which fell on her lightly armored forecastle deck. The shells penetrated the thin decks and the lighter belt armor forward of “A” turret, exploding below decks and opening the ship to the sea. One shell (possibly from Barham) tore a 10x13-foot hole near the waterline which let in vast quantities of water. When Beatty had suddenly turned north, Hipper quickly swung the Panzerkreuzer to follow, but Beatty had gained several thousand yards. As the German battlecruisers focused on trying to catch him, many of their officers and crew were unaware the shells falling around them were not from Beatty’s battlecruisers – but from the battleships of the 5th Battle Squadron. A few gunnery officers were shocked when the big shells began to fall among them, but the smoke and sudden course changes had confused them. The reality set in with the first thunderous hits of the 15-inch shells and the massive damage they caused. But Hipper knew all he could do was outrun the battleships – he had no intention of letting Beatty get away. As the 1st Scouting Group came within gun range of Beatty, Hipper altered course to close and resumed fire around 16:57. Beatty was now under fire from four German battlecruisers and four battleships (Von der Tann was still firing on HMS Malaya). HMS Lion on fire after several hits by SMS Lutzow. The gunnery duel continued with increasing ferocity. Soon, Seydlitz was struck on the face-plate of “B” turret, and the turret went out of action. After some minutes, they restored one of the barrels to service, but then the hydraulic elevating gear failed and the turret went silent. She was now down to two operational turrets, but took HMS Tiger under fire when she appeared clearly out of the smoke and mist. At least two hits were observed and Tiger’s “A” turret stopped firing. SMS Lutzow resumed fire on HMS Lion, obtaining hits at 16:59, 17:01, and 17:02. SMS Derfflinger took Princess Royal under fire for some minutes, but Kapitan Hartog quickly realized he was under fire from the 5th Battle Squadron and shifted fire onto HMS Valiant. SMS Moltke fired on HMS New Zealand, but deteriorating visibility and smoke interfered with ranging, so the fire was only intermittent. It was around this time that SMS Prinzregent Luitpold opened fire on New Zealand and repeatedly straddled her. There were no hits, but splinters from near misses peppered the battlecruiser like buckshot. SMS Von der Tann was nearest to 5th Battle Squadron and attracting more than her share of attention. Gamely, she fought back – taking HMS Malaya under fire with her one remaining main battery turret. At least two significant hits were observed on Malaya, one at 17:03 raising a great sheet of flame and starting a large fire. Unfortunately, at 18:18, the two guns of Von der Tann’s “D” turret overheated and came out of battery (just as those of “B” turret, earlier). Now Von der Tann had no heavy guns in operation. Kapitan Zenker did not sheer out of line in his unarmed condition, but chose to remain in the battle line and draw some of the enemy fire away from the other battlecruisers. Relieved from the necessity of providing a steady course for gunnery, Kapitan Zenker began “chasing salvos”, thereby avoiding further damage from the enemy. While hundreds of big shells roared overhead, the smoke billowed across the water and blotted out the sky. British destroyers continued to mill about between the lines of battlecruisers. The threat of a stray torpedo attack was very real, and the gunnery officers of the German 5.9-inch batteries continually peered into the smokey, misting turmoil. A destroyer would appear out of the smoke, orders were shouted into hand sets, and the medium guns opened a fast and furious fire. Moments later, the target disappeared back into the smoke – and the game would begin again. Farther astern, Scheer’s battleships were being similarly harassed by Commodore Goodenough’s 2nd Light Cruiser Squadron. The 5.9-inch guns fired well, but the lunging and weaving light cruisers seemed to lead charmed lives. However -- if the British approached too close, they received the unwelcome attention of the battleships’ 12-inch guns – instantly sending them scurrying out of range. HMS Birmingham -- 2nd Light Cruiser Squadron –31 May 1916 -- 17:53 – under 12-inch fire from battleships of the Hochseeflotte. After completing his turn and steering north, Beatty was anxious to get out of range of the German battle fleet and increased speed to 24 knots. He needed to lure the Hochseeflotte into Jellicoe’s trap, but he did not want to lose any more battlecruisers in the process. Beatty quickly left Scheer’s slow battleships behind in the poor visibility. And since Hipper’s battlecruisers were only making 21 knots (to maintain contact with Scheer), it was simply a matter of a few minutes before he lost sight of them as well. And both Beatty and his hard-pressed squadron needed the breathing room. The prolonged gunnery duel with the German battlecruisers had been far more destructive than anticipated. Hipper’s well-aimed and tightly grouped salvos had destroyed two of his ships and severely mauled the rest. Beatty needed time for his crews to put out their fires, make what repairs they could, and tend to the all too numerous wounded. But – even as the British sought a respite from the enemy guns, the conditions of battle were changing in their favor. Hipper’s gunnery, through no fault of the Germans, was beginning to fall off with the approach of late afternoon. As the sun lowered itself toward the western horizon, it no longer shown down on the British warships – but right into the lenses of the German rangefinders. The only thing to be seen through the smoke, mist, and glare of the sun, were the British gun flashes. Even when the smoke and mist cleared, briefly, there was very little of the enemy to be seen. The shift in the position of the sun disadvantaged Hipper, but only relative to Beatty’s position, and only momentarily. But Hipper’s situation was about to get worse -- at 24 knots, the 5th Battle Squadron was closing on the rear of the Panzerkreuzer even as Beatty was leaving them behind. With the British racing ahead, bearing NW from the German battlecruisers, the German angle of fire changed with each minute that passed. Hipper’s ships were still shrouded in mist and Beatty was still lit by the setting sun – but the sun was no longer glaring into German gun-sights at that angle. Outnumbered five ships to four, and with visibility favoring the Germans, Beatty saw nothing to be gained by continuing the uneven contest. To do so would have risked further losses among his depleted battlecruiser squadrons while his own gunnery would be largely ineffective. Oddly enough, Beatty’s reasoning was sound. During the “Run To The North”, the Imperial Panzerkreuzer (Lutzow) hit HMS Lion with four rounds in quick succession, while Seydlitz landed one on HMS Tiger. By contrast, the British battlecruisers failed to score a single hit. Vice-Admiral Beatty swung onto a NNW course, around 17:35, to open the range -- and disappeared into the smoke and mist. As it turns out, disengaging from Hipper was one of the few smart moves Beatty made that day. Scheer, anxious to “bag” Beatty’s battlecruisers, at 17:20 hoisted the signal “General Chase” to allow the Panzerkreuzer to use their superior speed in an effort to turn Beatty back into the battle fleet’s line of fire. And though willing – Hipper was not sure he could comply. His big cruisers had been steaming at high speed for nearly two hours, rotating stokers in and out of the stokeholds, and shoveling tons and tons of coal into the fireboxes. Not only were the stokers beginning to show signs of exhaustion, but the poor quality of coal was now effecting the speed of the ships. As more and more coal was shoveled into the fireboxes, the quantity of un-burnt “clinkers” rose dramatically. A “clinker” is, simply put, a non-burnable mineral object mixed into the coal – such as too much stone in the mix. Or – a clinker can result from mineral-laden coal ash that melts together and forms large solid blocks inside the firebox. High-grade “Anthracite” coal burns completely – evenly and hot -- a fine gray ash falling through the fire grates into the ash-pan, where it can be raked out with ease. German coal – predominantly “Bituminous” – is rather low-grade and prone to a high proportion of non-burnable clinkers. The clinkers invariably form large chunks that do not fall through the fire grates and have to be raked off the top of the burning mass – sometimes called “trimming a fire”. Basically, the German stokers were shoveling their hearts out, but were fast approaching the point where they would be unable to produce the hot fires needed for the excessively high speeds, of which, their ships were capable. As Hipper chewed his cigar and watched Beatty disappearing from view, he ordered a target shift onto the 5th Battle Squadron. Hipper could not know the full extent of the damage caused by the big guns of the British – but it worried him. He would continue to pursue Beatty to the north, but would, for the moment, turn his guns on those annoying battleships. For almost an hour, beginning with their turn north, 5th Battle Squadron would be Beatty’s rearguard – drawing fire from all the ships within range and fully occupying Hipper’s attention. Evan-Thomas’ super-dreadnoughts were now under fire from both the German battlecruisers to the northeast, and the leading battleships of the Hochseeflotte to the southeast. HMS Barham and Valiant engaged Hipper, while HMS Warspite and Malaya engaged Scheer. During the period after the turn to the north, only HMS Valiant escaped further damage. SMS Derfflinger struck Barham four times, and HMS Malaya was struck by another four shells from the Hochseeflotte battle line. Meanwhile, HMS Warspite was engaged by several battleships of the III Battle Squadron and, in particular, SMS Seydlitz. Around 17:16, a large caliber shell, probably 12-inch, landed on the port side upper deck between “X” and “Y” turrets, smashed a 7 x 3-foot hole in the deck before exploding on the Battery Deck just behind the stern-most 6-inch casemate gun. The “X” turret 15-inch magazine refrigeration unit was destroyed, a fire was started, and the aft fire mains were shot through, flooding three compartments before they could be switched off. Moments later, another shell penetrated the port side upper armor belt between the upper and main decks, but failed to detonate – breaking into large pieces causing splinter damage and ripping out a large section of armor plate on the “X” turret barbette. At 17:19, a shell believed to be from Seydlitz penetrated the hull side plating just below the upper deck, directly in line with the rear portion of “Y” turret barbette. The projectile detonated some 40 feet inside the ship, blowing a 5 x 6-foot hole in the main deck and inflicting severe damage to a dozen different compartments. Captain Philpott’s quarters had a 7 x 4-foot hole blown in the bulkhead, while the escape trunk to the steering compartment was badly damaged and allowed the compartment to flood to a depth of four feet. Two of the aft transverse bulkheads were distorted by the blast with many rivets and bolts sheered-off. The next hit penetrated the armor and wrecked the Captain’s Pantry, while the final hit during this phase (again, from Seydlitz) struck right aft on the waterline – further damaging the stern area and allowing more flooding. Evan-Thomas’ big battleships were far more capable of withstanding this sort of hammering than Beatty’s battlecruisers. None were lost at Jutland, but the super-dreadnoughts were on the receiving end of some of the finest shooting displayed that day. In constant action for just over two hours, Hipper’s gun crews had continued to fire three salvos per minute – well-aimed, with unbelievably tight shot patterns. HMS Barham suffered significant and extensive internal damage, several fires, and heavy casualties, while HMS Malaya was positively battered – very heavy internal damage, an ammunition fire, a 4 degree list caused by flooding, and unusually heavy casualties among the crew. At the same time, the well-trained gun crews of 5th Battle Squadron fired rapid and accurate salvos. Every thirty seconds, the massive 15-inch shells tore through the air, rumbling like a thousand steam locomotives, before throwing up vast columns of water, or crashing violently into the German battlecruisers. The 5th Battle Squadron quickly proved to be a lethal opponent. SMS Lutzow was hit with four shells, three fell on Derfflinger, a whopping six slammed into Seydlitz, and five fell on Scheer’s battleships. (Only SMS Markgraf among the battle fleet suffered any notable damage.) To the perceptive observer, the determined slugging match between Hipper’s Panzerkreuzer and Evan-Thomas’ battleships more clearly demonstrates the inherent defects of British warship design – even more so than the mauling received by Beatty’s battlecruisers. In as much as two British battlecruisers had been sunk by Hipper’s 11-inch and 12-inch guns, his battlecruisers had, so far, survived a brutal pounding by massive 15-inch shells – and with the exception of Von der Tann – they were all in reasonably good fighting order. But Hipper could see some of the huge shells crashing into his battlecruisers and knew they were now at serious risk. HMS Warspite, followed by Valiant and Malaya, settling onto a northerly course, preparing to open fire on the rear of Hipper’s battle line. Photo taken from HMS Barham. At this stage, as “The Run To The North” comes to a close, it is worth taking a moment to examine the performance of the two antagonists. Both the British and German battlecruisers had been firing briskly for nearly two hours, and the only thing slowing them down was the miserable visibility. The German battlecruisers had taken their share of damage during “The Run To The South” -- Von der Tann continued to engage with her 5.9-inch batteries, but her main battery turrets were out of action. Seydlitz lost two main battery turrets, was fairly battered and on fire, and had taken a torpedo, but remained in the battle line. Beyond some battle induced flooding among the remaining ships, it was nothing serious. The Krupp steel was proving more than adequate to resist the British 12-inch and 13.5-inch shells. The Panzerkreuzer were shooting superbly, especially Lutzow, and Hipper’s squadron had pretty much had it their own way. Beatty, on the other hand, was not doing well. During “The Run To The South”, Beatty had under his command six battlecruisers and four fast battleships. During “The Run To The North”, Beatty still had four battlecruisers and four fast battleships. (Beatty had, after all, lost HMS Indefatigable and Queen Mary.) The British gunnery was not at all good. Serious damage was mounting aboard the thinly armored warships -- both internal and external – wrecked compartments, heavy casualties, blasted superstructure, fires, flooding, and burned-out or jammed turrets. And – Hipper accomplished all of this destruction with just five battlecruisers. Both the British and Germans had particularly bad luck with battle damaged main battery turrets. The British tended to lose the “Q” turret on the more modern Lion Class ships – and the ”X” turret on the older Indefatigable design. The Germans seemed to lose their “C” turrets (Von der Tann, Seydlitz, and Derfflinger). It was quite obvious neither the British nor German designers had adequately armored the roof of the turrets. In all probability, the armor requirements were determined by mathematical formula, rather than actual tests on a gun range. Several turrets were also lost or put out of action due to penetration of the barbette armored trunk. It was common design practice in both navies to reduce the thickness of barbette armor as it extended deeper into the bowels of the ship. It was believed an incoming shell would strike light belt armor, armored bulkheads, and armored decks – either detonating the shell before it reached a barbette, or slowing the shell sufficiently to prevent penetration of the armored trunk. In reality, this was a mistaken belief. On “The Run To The North”, everything changed for Hipper. The setting sun to the west threw off the German rangefinders temporarily, only improving as Beatty pulled ahead, changing the firing angle to the northwest and removing the glare from the optical lenses. Nevertheless, the Panzerkreuzer had continued to inflict damage on the British battlecruisers and received very little in return. This situation was dramatically altered only when Evan-Thomas’ 5th Battle Squadron used their speed advantage to bring all 32 of their big guns into action. From that point forward, Hipper was caught between two fires – Beatty to the northwest and the super-dreadnoughts to the southwest. This is the point at which the tide turned against Hipper. And it should be noted for the record, the majority of the vital damage done to the Imperial battlecruisers at the Battle of Jutland was inflicted by 15-inch guns. It is, in all practicality, impossible to assemble accurate figures on how many of Evan-Thomas’ 15-inch shells landed on the German battlecruisers. What was obvious to the naked eye was the extent of destruction each one of those shells caused. When a 15-inch shell impacted a battlecruiser, the blast of the 1,900 pound shell was horrendous. They bored through decks and exploded, shaking the big ships like an earthquake. Interior compartments were blown into contorted shapes and bulkheads pierced by fist-sized pieces of shrapnel. Foot-thick armor plates were punched five inches into the ship’s side, twisting steel support frames, bowing torpedo bulkheads, sending splinters in all directions, and more often than not – resulting in heavy flooding. Flooding damage is insidious – and cumulative. Heavy shells, without penetrating, can violently displace armor plate, sheering rivets, opening seams, and causing leaks. A flooded compartment, though sealed off, can allow water to leak into adjacent compartments through air ducts, voice tubes, and around electrical conduits – and through shrapnel splinter holes. The biggest threat from a 15-inch shell was its’ capability to blast very large holes in thinner belt armor -- opening the ship directly to the sea. Once a compartment is flooded, it can be difficult or impossible to remove the water – especially if the hole is too large to be ”plugged”. In a worst-case scenario, pumps can fail due to battle damage, electrical failure, water damage, or drains clogged with blast debris. A warship can be blazing away with all guns one moment -- and a moment later -- be in danger of foundering, because there is simply too much water sloshing about inside the hull. From the moment 5th Battle Squadron came into effective range, Hipper’s battlecruisers were in extreme danger. German naval architects had designed a magnificent armor suite that made the Imperial battlecruisers superior to any British battlecruiser afloat. SMS Von der Tann, with her eight 11-inch guns, had sent HMS Indefatigable to the bottom within minutes. Derfflinger’s eight 12-inch guns had destroyed HMS Queen Mary with a final, well-placed salvo. But the fast battleships of the Queen Elizabeth Class were an entirely different animal. Tirpitz had never wanted the battlecruisers to serve in the battle line, and he had influenced their design to that end. Even with their superb armor scheme, they were not meant to go toe-to-toe with battleships – especially not the most powerful dreadnoughts in the world. The heavy armor scheme of Hipper’s battlecruisers was designed to withstand 12-inch gunfire, keep them in the battle line, and ensure they survived to return home. The armor would keep them afloat and intact long enough for their 11-inch and 12-inch guns to destroy the lightly armored British battlecruisers. But the architects, guided by Tirpitz’ tactical philosophy and financial restraint, were not allowed to armor the ships against 15-inch gunfire – even when they knew their enemy had such weapons. The 15-inch guns aboard HMS Barham and her sisters were the key to the whole issue. One of Barham’s 1,900 pound shells was, in destructive force, the equivalent of three 11-inch shells, or two 12-inch shells. Their destructive power was simply monstrous by comparison. And Barham and her sisters had the thickest armor of all the battleships present at Jutland. The Imperial battlecruisers could bang away at Barham, steadily inflicting damage, but the big 15-inch guns would, literally, dismantle the German cruisers before they could do lethal harm. Not to digress too much, but 15-inch weapons were briefly discussed for SMS Derfflinger, and Tirpitz deemed them too expensive, and the ship was already on the builder’s slipway. The Imperial Navy High Command then forcefully argued Lutzow should be armed with the big guns. Unfortunately, Tirpitz still did not envision his battlecruisers fighting battleships – so he simply did not understand the need for the bigger guns with their heavier shells. In all truth, neither Tirpitz, nor anyone else in the Kaiserliche Marine, had any battle experience of 15-inch shells. They simply did not know how much damage one of those shells could do. SMS Lutzow’s superb marksmanship astonished the British – and Derfflinger’s 12-inch guns and ability to survive were highly regarded by their opponents. The British nicknamed her “The Iron Dog” out of respect. For just a moment, imagine how different the opening phase of Jutland might have been if the two battlecruisers had been armed with the big 15-inch rifles. Dreadnought battleship SMS Bayern – sister ship SMS Baden: 28,530 tons – 22 knots – 8x15-inch guns – 16x5.9-inch guns – 5x24-inch torpedo tubes – belt armor 13.8 inches. Only recently commissioned for trials, Bayern was left behind when Scheer sailed for Jutland – the crew had only been in training for three weeks. Her speed was slower than the Queen Elizabeth Class fast battleships, but only by two knots. Had she been leading Scheer’s battle line on 31 May 1916, her 15-inch rifles might have made a difference. When inspected by British dockyard authorities after the war, they found her to be equal or superior to anything in the Royal Navy. Below, two views of her moored in the old fleet anchorage at Bremerhaven. Her “off-duty” crew is being rowed ashore to spend the night in their barracks. If you look closely at the landing, you can see contingents of sailors loading into trucks to be taken to their barracks. Bayern is by Barroco Hispano. The small boats, sailors, and much of the “dock clutter” is by "AP". Seawalls by “NBVC”. The rickety pier is from the “PEG” Cannery lot – and the small office is a re-purposed SFBT railroad signal box. SIDEBAR QUEEN ELIZABETH CLASS Fast-Battleships Queen Elizabeth (1914) – Warspite (1915) – Barham (1915) – Valiant (1916) – Malaya (1916) Displacement: 32,590 tons – Length 643 feet – Speed 24 knots – 8x15-inch guns – 12 to 16x6-inch guns (varies between individual ships) – 4x21-inch torpedo tubes – Armor: main belt 13 inches – barbettes 10 inches – turrets 13 inches – conning tower 13 inches. Complement 930 officers and men. At the time of the Battle of Jutland these five ships were considered to be the mightiest dreadnought battleships in the world. It was not because they were the biggest warships, or the fastest, or because they were more heavily armored, or even had the most guns. Their displacement was, in fact, about 5,000 tons heavier than any of the Imperial battleships and battlecruisers, but their armor plate was nearly an inch thinner than the German Konig Class battleships. The speed of the British warships was about 2 knots faster than the German battleships, but between 2 to 3 knots slower than the Panzerkreuzer. The British dreadnoughts carried eight main battery guns while the most modern German dreadnoughts carried ten. In this case, it was not the number of guns that counted – it was the size and weight of shell that made the Queen Elizabeth’s mighty. These dreadnoughts were the only warships in the world to mount 15-inch guns – the Mk-1 BL (breech-loading) 15-inch L/42 rifle – to be precise. It could be pointed out the Royal Navy already had a 13.5-inch weapon firing a 1,400-lb shell – and the US Navy mounted a standard 14-inch weapon firing a similar size shell. But the unquestioned superiority of the British 15-inch gun was derived from the horrendous destructive power of its 1,900-lb shell. The kinetic penetrating power of such a large shell traveling at 2,450 feet per second (roughly ½ mile per second) was enormous. And once it bludgeoned its way inside an enemy hull, the explosive force and resulting damage was almost beyond human comprehension. BELOW you can see the massive size of the turrets designed to house the 101-ton gun tubes. This is a view of the 5th Battle Squadron of the Grand Fleet as it might have looked moored at their buoys off the Rosyth dockyards – just a few days before their rendezvous off the Jutland coast. Left to right: HMS Barham (flag), Valiant, Malaya, and Warspite. HMS Queen Elizabeth is temporarily in the dockyard for periodic maintenance and did not participate in the battle. All five ships of the class were very nearly identical (or as close to “identical” as possible). The only really noticeable difference was in the number and arrangement of the secondary 6-inch gun battery. Some ships had as few as 12 guns, while others had as many as 16. This is a close-up of HMS Barham. You will note Rear-Admiral Hugh Evan-Thomas, flag officer commanding, has his steam launch tied-up at the aft gangway. On the port side, you see the fuel-oil lighter Harold Smith replenishing Barham’s fuel bunkers. The Queen Elizabeth’s were the first battleships in the Royal Navy to be completely oil-fired. Note the prominence of the large gun houses – they had to be large. The 15-inch guns were gigantic compared to 13.5-inch weapons and actually had a 4-foot recoil when fired. You will also notice the small boat traffic between ships and ship-to-shore. HMS Malaya is standing by to unload two lighters full of ship’s stores. “Ship’s Stores” could include such items as canvas tarps, machine oil, rope and hawsers, balk timber, nails and spikes, tools, caulking iron, mops and brooms, galley supplies, leather goods, machine parts, and the inevitable toilet tissue. Malaya clearly demonstrates one of the chief characteristics of all British capital ships – the tall, bulky, built-up design of the fore and aft superstructures, with twin funnels grouped close behind the bridge. Of course, there is also the “trademark” of all English battleships – the soaring tripod foremast with a spotting top. Right next to the voluminous clouds of smoke, the spotting tops appearing over the horizon alerted an enemy to the presence of battleships. HMS Valiant has received a motor launch alongside, no doubt delivering mail bags from ashore. The hull form is shorter, and a bit on the “stubby” side -- but from her foremast to her mainmast – Valiant’s insides are crowded with twenty-four boilers to guarantee her status as a 24-knot fast-battleship. HMS Warspite has two lighters alongside and an Odin Class harbor tug is pushing a third lighter into position. Once the lighters are secured, the ship’s boat boom will hoist cargo nets full of crated fresh provisions aboard. The fuel-oil lighter Harold Smith, the Admiral’s steam launch, and the exquisite battleship model were graciously and expeditiously provided by @Barroco Hispano. The lighters, tugboats, small boats, boat boom, motor launch, and battleship mooring buoys made the creation of these scenes possible – and are generously provided by @AP. Just for those of you that might be curious about the fuel-oil lighter Harold Smith – here is a close-up shot to show the detailing. NEXT TIME…… THE TRAP IS SPRUNG BUT – before you go – we will finish the tour of the ammunition handling facilities…… This is an overview showing the route from the distribution docks (bottom center) back to the ammunition storage bunker complex (top left of center). The road and rail line runs back through a valley between the hills. The bunker complex was built on the far side of the hills to mitigate the effects of any accidental explosions. This is an overview of the bunker complex. You can see a rail line loading dock outside the bunker compound where shells and powder can be brought into the complex by rail or road – and can be sent out to the distribution docks in the harbor. Another loading dock and rail line can be seen inside the compound in the upper left. This one is strictly for the receiving and distribution of torpedoes. This is the receiving and distribution dock for shells and powder. Ammunition can be brought in by rail or sent out to the replenishment docks in the harbor. The loading dock was deliberately built outside the bunker complex and offset from the entrance to the compound to reduce the possibilities of damage in the event of an “accident”. Two shuttle engines with loaded rail cars are preparing to leave for the ammunition piers. To the rear of the loading dock, trucks can be seen unloading shells they have brought out from the bunker complex. To the right of the dock area are the administrative offices of the complex. In this close-up of the dock, you can see full shell racks lined up and waiting to be loaded onto the next available train. You have an excellent view of one of the shuttle engines and the ammunition rail cars. At the rear of the dock a 20-ton crane is unloading shells from the trucks. A railroad crane and shuttle engine are standing by on a siding – in case one of the dockside cranes breaks down. The loading dock is re-purposed from the “PEG SNM Battleship Docks”. The dockside cranes are from the “PEG” trash lots. The railroad crane is from “Simmer2” while its shuttle engine is from “PEG”. The small shuttle engines and ammunition cars are by “AP” – as are the 20-ton cranes, shells, and some of the sailors. The water tower was borrowed from the Maxis Movie Studio lot. This is the main bunker complex. Powder charges are stored in the four large bunkers on the left, while the shells are stored in the smaller bunkers on the right. As you can see, there are practically no structures in the compound other than the bunkers – no need to build anything that might, literally, go up in a large puff of smoke. The bunkers are thick, concrete structures buried under an earthen mound and can be found in the “PEG SNM Series”. This is a close-up of one of the fire-fighting water towers. Beside it, the fire brigade is undergoing training and maintenance of their equipment. The landscape has just a few trees, with some berry bushes scattered about, on gravel-covered terrain. The concrete road sections are “Paeng’s Grunge Concrete” sections with tire tracks -- some of them have been modified for lighting. The fire brigade and their equipment is by “AP”. The trees and berry bushes are by @Girafe and the gravely-looking areas are actually “Heblem” grey sand. This is a view of the outer wall of the bunker complex. This consists of a 16-meter earthen berm built-up around the whole complex, then layered with reinforced concrete on the inner side and a thinner layer on top of the berm. The outer side of the mound has been left natural and a controlled amount of vegetation has been allowed to grow to prevent erosion of the soil. The bunker complex has been built as close as possible to the hills. The building on the left is used for storage of small goods, supplies, and tools, with office space for clerical work and record keeping. The right hand building is used for periodic inspection, maintenance, and testing of the various lots of stored powder and shells. This is the torpedo loading dock on the far side of the compound. A separate dock was provided to reduce the congestion on the main compound. The dockside cranes are 100 ton capacity, while the cranes on the lower level are of 20 ton capacity. When needed, torpedoes are removed from the bunkers on the left, transported by truck to the loading dock, then hoisted across and placed in special railways cars to be carried to the replenishment docks. In this close-up, you get an excellent view of the small shuttle engines and the torpedo laden rail cars. If you look closely, you can see the torpedoes in the back of a truck waiting to be unloaded, while working parties behind the truck are inspecting and preparing other torpedoes that will be hoisted up onto the loading dock in their turn. The cranes, torpedoes, Imperial officers and sailors (black & white uniforms), fire brigade personnel, small shuttle engines and torpedo railway cars -- are all the intricate work of "AP". Without these specialized props, the degree of detail portrayed in this scene simply would not be possible. MANY, MANY, THANKS to @Barroco Hispano for his beautiful warship models and continued support. SPECIAL THANKS to my friend and partner, @AP, for his talents, patience, meticulous models, colorful imagination, and extreme dedication. If you enjoyed anything – please punch the “like” button so WE will know. A comment would be even more informative. Comments and critiques requested and gratefully accepted. All questions answered promptly to the best of our ability. THANK YOU for your visit! You may wish to visit these CJ’s as well…… SERIES I: IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: WILHELMSHAVEN SERIES II: IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: CUXHAVEN Appearing – Work In Publication SERIES III: IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: BREMERHAVEN Appearing -- ??? And please feel free to drop in at… THE SIMTROPOLIS SHIPYARD https://community.simtropolis.com/forums/topic/761469-simtropolis-shipyard/?tab=comments#comment-1766496

The fast battleships of 5th Battle Squadron, overloading their boilers to exceed their 24-knot design speed. Note the heavy seas taken over the bows as they plunge ahead, trying to catch-up to Beatty’s battle line. HMS Valiant, Warspite, and Malaya as seen from the flagship, HMS Barham. IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: CUXHAVEN By: Dreadnought & AP Chapter 30: "...SOMETHING WRONG WITH OUR BLOODY SHIPS...” Hipper’s 1st Scouting Group was holding a SE course at 22 knots, and maintaining a rapid and accurate fire on the British battlecruisers off their starboard beam. The British had already lost one battlecruiser to the extremely accurate German gunnery, and Hipper was gradually closing the range to inflict even more damage. With each salvo, great masses of gun smoke billowed high into the sky, then blew back across the Panzerkreuzer before trailing away to the ESE. The Gunnery officers waited impatiently until the “fall of shot” clocks sounded the alarm and they watched eagerly as great water columns shot into the air, straddling Beatty’s battlecruisers with a forest of tightly grouped shell splashes. HMS Queen Mary: 26,770 tons – 28 knots – 8x13.5-inch guns – 16x4-inch guns – 2x21-inch torpedo tubes – belt armor 9 inches. Queen Mary was the last battlecruiser to join the fleet before World War I, and the last iteration of the Lion Class ships (“The Splendid Cats”). HMS Tiger would soon follow, but her designed appearance was completely different. For the record – the gun turrets are lettered, bow to stern, as “A”, “B”, “Q”, and “X”. Queen Mary has the same basic deck plan as the Lion Class, allowing for a full 8-gun broadside and wide firing arcs for “Q” turret. (Model courtesy of Barroco Hispano.) HMS Queen Mary, third in line, engaged Seydlitz until 16:17, and had been hit several times by the German battlecruiser. One shell landed in the aft 4 inch gun casemates and started an ammunition fire. At 14,800 yards, Seydlitz hit her a second time, on the right side of “Q” turret. The shell failed to penetrate, but the impact was so severe it put the right hand gun out of action. When Lion sheered out of line, Derfflinger took Queen Mary under fire at 14,400 yards and Queen Mary returned Derfflinger’s fire around 16:17. Some nine minutes later, three shells out of a four-gun salvo fired by Seydlitz were seen to strike Queen Mary (an amazingly tight grouping), raising a small smoke cloud amidships, near “Q” turret. Only seconds later, Derfflinger’s salvo landed two 12-inch shells near Queen Mary’s “A” turret -- and a tremendous yellow flame instantly shot into the air. Derfflinger’s Korvettenkapitan Hase wrote…… “Queen Mary and Derfflinger settled into a regular gunnery duel carried out overhead of the torpedo boat and destroyer action raging between the battle lines. The enemy was shooting superbly. Twice Derfflinger came under their fire – and twice she was hit. Queen Mary was also under fire from Seydlitz, who’s Gunnery Control Officer was Korvettenkapitan Foerster – our crack gunnery expert. Since 16:22 every one of our salvos had straddled the enemy, and around 16:25 a salvo (presumably from Seydlitz) was seen to crash into the area of Queen Mary’s “Q” turret, followed by a huge sheet of flame and smoke shooting high into the air. Seconds later, our own salvo landed near her forward turrets. A red flame shot up through her fore-deck, abreast the gun turrets, followed by a visible explosion, and then – a huge explosion amidships. Black smoke began to shoot skyward, filled with debris and parts of the ship. Amid a monstrous black cloud, the enemy ship seemed to lift itself from the water, shuddering, with the middle blown out. A massive cloud towered a thousand feet in the air. The battlecruiser’s masts collapsed inwards into the smoke and nothing more could be seen.” (This was approximately thirty-seven minutes into the battle.) This detail shot of Queen Mary shows her steering SE under fire from Seydlitz and Derfflinger. Seydlitz landed a lethal salvo that penetrated the deck abreast “Q” turret and most likely went on to penetrate the turret’s lower barbette armor. The shells touched off her midships powder magazine. Mere seconds later, Derfflinger landed a salvo abreast of the forward turrets which most likely touched off those magazines as well. The nearly simultaneous explosion of both magazines was more than enough to destroy the battlecruiser. HMS Princess Royal (left of picture) comes under heavy fire as the smoke continues to rise over HMS Queen Mary’s grave. The original of this photo can be found on file in the Imperial War Museum, London. If you think it has been re-touched, you are correct. The original image was faded, grainy, and somewhat over-exposed. Photo experts worked with the light and dark contrasts, and eventually had to “artistically” alter the picture to bring out the details. None of the basic information contained in the original was lost, but this re-touched original makes a stunning and far more dramatic presentation of the cataclysmic event. It was 16:26 when Queen Mary blew up. Beatty and Ernle Chatfield, his Flag-Captain, were standing on Lion’s port bridge wing when the force of the tremendous explosion washed over them. Both men spun round in time to witness the unpleasant spectacle unfolding before their eyes. They remained in stony silence until the gigantic smoke cloud began to dissipate, then Beatty turned to Chatfield...”There seems to be something wrong with our bloody ships today…”. Chatfield, stunned by the depth of understatement, made no comment. Such prudence would see him promoted Admiral Of The Fleet in 1935. And most historians applaud the cool and collected manner in which Beatty took the catastrophic loss of two capital ships – but few of them point out the obvious – it didn’t have to happen that way. Had Beatty kept the 5th Battle Squadron on a tight leash, it’s entirely possible Hipper might have suffered the losses. But Beatty had charged off after the German battlecruisers in fine “fox-hunting” style and high hubris – ignoring the First Rule Of War – “Never underestimate your enemy”. HMS Queen Mary had broken in two, and the aft portion was still afloat as New Zealand passed by. Only eighteen survivors were plucked out of the water by the destroyers HMS Laurel and Petard, and the German torpedo boat V-28. A total of 1,266 men went down with her. (Every year, on 31 May, at 16:26 – the exact time of her sinking -- a Royal Navy warship is privileged to perform a wreath-laying ceremony over her wreckage.) During the brief exchange, only Seydlitz was hit, with a 13.5 inch shell penetrating the starboard #6 5.9-inch casemate in the secondary battery – putting the gun out of action. Amid all this chaos, SMS Moltke continued to fire on HMS Tiger – though Tiger was engaged with Von der Tann at the time. The German battlecruiser scored a total of five 11-inch hits between 16:05 and 16:35, two of which hit the 6-inch upper belt and the 9-inch lower belt just aft of the forward engine room. The armor was not penetrated, but it was pushed in about four inches, causing several leaks. Tiger, though still full of fight, had been suffering terribly under Moltke’s accurate salvos. There was a great deal of “superficial” damage – gaping holes in superstructure compartments – funnels shot through – a fair number of wounded and dead -- and numerous hits on the armor belt that displaced plates and started leaks. But – so far – there had been nothing critical. Around the same time, Moltke launched four torpedoes toward the British line, three of which were sighted by them, but there were no hits. Aboard SMS Lutzow, amid the swirling smoke and thunderous gunfire, Hipper had already been informed Indefatigable had gone down, and he watched Lion sheer out of line, followed at 16:26 by the signal that Queen Mary had been sunk. Hipper now outnumbered Beatty’s battlecruisers by five-to-four. He was also informed the 5th Battle Squadron had opened fire on the light cruisers of 2nd Scouting Group. The small cruisers were screening the tail of his battle line, but they would have to give way in the face of such a force. Though the battle seemed to be going his way at the moment, the powerful British battleships would soon come in range of Von der Tann – and all Hell would break lose. Hipper signaled the squadron to increase to 23 knots – hoping he could hold the enemy battleships at a distance. He could run away from them – but his job was to lead them to destruction under Scheer’s guns. Still, the old buccaneer sensed an opportunity, and he chose to press his momentary advantage. He signaled a course change -- one point to starboard – to close the range on Beatty. Beatty, fully aware he had lost two battlecruisers, was under a good deal of pressure. Even he realized the damage to his ships continued to mount while the German battlecruisers were still delivering rapid and accurate salvos. HMS Lion (having resumed her position in line) was down to a six-gun broadside with fires raging on the forecastle and amidships, while Princess Royal could only present a four-gun broadside. (Though Beatty was probably unaware of it at the time, the British seemed to be having particularly bad luck with their “Q” turret installations. The designers appear to have thought “amidships” was a good place to locate a main battery turret. It also happened to be where German fire control officers were most likely to place the cross-hairs of their gun-pointers.) In an effort to relieve the pressure, Beatty sent in the 9th Destroyer Flotilla, from the head of his line. HMS Nestor, commanded by Captain Barry Bingham, led the attack. As the British destroyers increased speed and swung about, Kommodore Heinrich (commander torpedo boat flotillas) in the light cruiser SMS Regensburg, spotted them and exercised his own initiative. The Kommodore quickly signaled his torpedo boats and went in to break up the approaching attack. German torpedo boats race toward the British battle line to disrupt an approaching destroyer attack. (Illustration by noted marine artist Willy Stower.) Thick, billowing smoke spewed from the funnels of fifteen German torpedo boats as they lunged forward at full revolutions. Some boats followed their Leader (SMS Regensburg) and cut across Lutzow’s bows to get at the British battlecruisers. Other boats, their captains eager to get at the enemy (and a bit more daring), used their high speed to “cut the line” – slipping through the three hundred yard gaps between the massive battlecruisers. Once on the other side of Hipper’s battle line, the boats rallied briefly, then tore off toward the fast-approaching swarm of British destroyers led by the light cruiser HMS Champion. The tiny German boats plunged headlong into the waves, some managing 33 knots, with their slender hulls bucking and rolling, and masses of funnel smoke trailing away astern. German torpedo boats were just that – torpedo boats. They had a minimal gun armament of two or three 3.4-inch deck guns, but usually carried six torpedo tubes. British destroyers were designed to defend against enemy torpedo boats and usually mounted four 4-inch guns, but only two torpedo tubes. Consequently, as the range between the two swarms closed, the British opened fire first. German captains twisted and turned the hurtling little boats, dodging shellfire while their smaller guns returned fire. Onward, into the midst of the enemy -- commands shouted along decks running knee-deep with seawater – guns blazing away to port and starboard. A fleeting target appears and a torpedo is loosed at an enemy. The helm goes hard over to avoid a collision – more gunfire – a shell passes through the funnel – the little craft slews round and charges toward another enemy. The confused, swirling melee went on for what seemed hours, but was only about fifteen minutes. So many destroyers and torpedo boats were milling about between the lines, it become impossible to tell friend from foe as the thickening smoke clouds hung low on the water. Inevitably, like the terriers they were, a few ships managed to break loose and close on the big ships. Many torpedoes were fired in the melee, both British and German, but Hipper and Beatty turned away from the torpedo attacks (a standard defensive maneuver adopted by both navies). The capital ships escaped unharmed – with the exception of Seydlitz (she was having her share of bad luck). Seydlitz was hit at 16:37 by a torpedo fired from HMS Petard. The torpedo struck the starboard side forward, below the armor belt, and ripped a hole 40 feet long by 13 feet high. Though taking on water, the inner torpedo bulkhead held, and the battlecruiser maintained her speed and place in the battle line. The small craft would continue their vicious dogfight until Beatty recalled his destroyers around 16:40. The ruthless little skirmish had entailed a good deal of sound and fury, resulting in quite a bit of damage and a few “kills”. HMS Petard torpedoed and sank V-29, her second kill of the day. The German V-27 was hit several times and disabled, and battle conditions prohibited towing, so they scuttled her. HMS Nestor and Nomad were dead-in-the-water from gunfire and were eventually sunk by the battleships of the Hochseeflotte as they passed by headed north. Commander Bingham (HMS Nestor) spent the rest of the war as a guest of the German Empire -- but lived to receive the Victoria Cross. The fast battleships of the 5th Battle Squadron closing on 2nd Scouting Group at the rear of Hipper’s battle line. HMS Barham leading and Valiant following – as seen from HMS Warspite. With the opposing battlecruiser squadrons holding course to the SE at high speed, locked in mortal combat, and the destroyer melee between the battle lines in full hue and cry -- things began to go badly at the rear of the German battle line. The light cruisers of 2nd Scouting Group (SMS Frankfurt, Pillau, Elbing, and Wiesbaden) were dutifully screening the tail of Hipper’s column, and Admiral Boedicker had been watching somewhat grimly as Rear-Admiral Sir Hugh Evan-Thomas bore down on him with the powerful 5th Battle Squadron. HMS Barham (flag) was leading the squadron and from the way she plunged into the rolling waves, throwing spray up to the bridge, she was doing every bit of the 24 knots she was designed for. HMS Malaya opening fire with her powerful 15-inch guns. Note the large volume of thick smoke issuing from the gun tubes. A lot of Cordite is required to launch a 1,900-pound shell – and that means voluminous smoke clouds. At 15:58 the first 15-inch shells splashed down 300 meters from SMS Frankfurt. As the salvos began to fall at regular intervals, Boedicker deployed a new device – “smoke floats”. These were ignited and dropped overboard, quickly creating a very effective smokescreen. Barham temporarily ceased fire when her target was obscured, but resumed fire after a short interval, firing into the smoke to no effect. Boedicker sent a contact report to Hipper, then wisely withdrew at high speed to the NE, later altering SE to rejoin Hipper. By 16:06, Barham had closed the tail of the German battlecruiser line and opened on Von der Tann at 20,000 yards. Within minutes the remaining battleships joined in – Barham and Valiant concentrating on Moltke -- with Warspite and Malaya firing on Von der Tann. Whatever temporary advantage Hipper may have had, evaporated like a desert mirage. The German battlecruisers, with 11-inch and 12-inch guns, were now fighting battlecruisers and battleships armed with 13.5-inch and 15-inch guns. Still out of range of Von der Tann’s guns, it was much like target practice for Evan-Thomas’ ships – and all Jellicoe’s training would pay off. It would soon become apparent -- no matter how good the Panzerkreuzer were, or how well they were led – Tirpitz should have given them bigger guns. The strength of the Imperial German battlecruisers, the skill of their Admiral, and the courage of their crews would surely be tested to the limit this day. SMS Moltke, prior to the sortie, taking on provisions and stores while moored in Schillig Roads on picket duty. Alongside, a Thor Class tug is preparing to unload a lighter filled with fresh fruit and vegetables. A Sophia Class paddle tug stands by with two lighters containing various ship’s stores and dry goods. In the picture below, you can see the intricate detail on the battlecruiser, tug, and lighter. The mooring buoys, battlecruiser, tugs, and lighters are all the wonderful work of @AP. SMS Moltke now came under a sustained fire from HMS Barham and Valiant. At 16:16, she was hit by a 15-inch round from Barham. The projectile penetrated the armor below #5 casemate, knocking out the 5.9-inch gun, killing the crew, and penetrating an upper coal bunker before detonating. At 16:23 another 15-inch shell detonated against the waterline belt abreast the forward funnel. It did not penetrate, but displaced the armor plate, rupturing the hull skin and causing flooding in the wing passage and a protective coal bunker. At 16:26 (about the same time Queen Mary was going down), a shell struck aft, underwater, and crossed to the port side before detonating and caused additional flooding in the stern. Again, at 16:27, a 15-inch shell detonated on the armor belt abreast the aft superstructure and caused more flooding in the wing passage and another protective coal bunker. The hardened Krupp armor proved equal to the task and prevented the shells from penetrating the ship, but the massive concussive force of the 1,900-pound shells was pushing in plates, sheering bolts and rivets, and starting leaks. These four hits, alone, caused Moltke to take on 1,000 tons of water and a three degree starboard list. In order to maintain a level and steady gun platform, Kapitan von Karpf evened the keel by counter-flooding. The 5th battle Squadron continued to fire regular salvos with frequent hits. It should be remembered the battleships had received the benefit of gunnery practice with the Grand Fleet and were also equipped with the new fifteen-foot rangefinders. The heavy shells from HMS Warspite and Malaya raised tall water columns all about Von der Tann -- frequently obscuring her from sight. At 16:09, a 15-inch shell struck to starboard aft, on the joint of two armor plates, and detonated during penetration. Large pieces of shrapnel entered the ship and caused two compartments to take on more water -- some 600 tons. The concussive force of the big shells shook the ship violently and briefly caused a steering engine to malfunction. The engineering staff worked furiously in the stifling heat of the cramped and dimly lit steering engine compartment. They were all aware what the loss of a steering engine could mean at this critical moment – and they quickly brought it back on line. But worse was yet to come. At 16:20, a 15-inch shell penetrated “A” turret barbette. There was little fire damage and no danger of explosion, but the massive blast of the 1,900-pound shell jammed the turret fast – taking it out of action. SMS Von der Tann -- the main battery turrets are lettered from bow to stern: “A” turret, “B” turret (starboard wing), “C” turret (aft), and “D” turret (port wing). Model courtesy of @Barroco Hispano. Below is a close-up of the forecastle and “A” turret. The shell would have struck the starboard side of the barbette where the gunhouse joins to the circular barbette – damaging the turret “race” (the revolving bearings of the training mechanism). At 16:32 another 15-inch shell crashed through Von der Tann’s fantail deck, penetrated to the battery deck, and detonated against the “C” turret barbette. The shock of the massive blast caused the turret to jam, the turning mechanism fouled by bent and distorted steel. The damage outside the barbette was devastating. Surrounding compartments were blown apart and transformed into twisted and shredded steel plates. This shell also caused a more pressing problem. The anti-torpedo nets were blasted loose and left dangling over the side – threatening to foul the propellers – until a crew of brave men went on deck under heavy fire to secure them. The 15-inch shell would have punched a large hole in the fantail deck (or quarter deck) on the starboard side, close to the deck edge -- approximately where the mooring bollards are. The turret would have been trained over the starboard side when the blast jammed it. You can just make out the anti-torpedo netting along the edge of the lower battery deck. The force of the blast and the severe jolt of the explosion would have wrenched the net restraints loose and bent or broken the net booms – leaving the steel mesh nets trailing in the water. When the range fell to 17,000 yards, Von der Tann began hitting back, and at 16:23 landed a shell on Barham’s armor belt forward. The shell did not penetrate, but pushed the armor in three inches and started leaks. At 16:26 she scored a hit on New Zealand which penetrated her deck and punched out a large piece of armor from “X” turret barbette, jamming the turret for some time. By 16:30, Von der Tann was down to only “B” and “D” turrets left in operation (the midships wing turrets) and she was having difficulty acquiring a target due to the restricted firing arcs, but she continued to fire whenever her guns would bear. (This is where it paid off to reinforce the midships deck armor for cross-deck firing.) SMS Von der Tann – midships area. This is a close-up of “B” turret – the starboard “wing” turret, and “D” turret – the “port” wing turret. (Model courtesy of Barroco Hispano.) Shortly thereafter, Von der Tann’s “B” turret (starboard wing) broke down. On the last salvo, the two big 11-inch rifles went “out of battery” and jammed in the recoil position. (The reason is not clear, but it’s possible there was a leak in the hydraulic system, or the prolonged rapid firing caused extreme over-heating.) Von der Tann had suffered a severe pounding at the hands of two Queen Elizabeth Class battleships, and she was down to just two operable gun tubes – but Blohm & Voss had done their work well – she was still afloat and able to maintain her place in the battle line. From Lutzow’s bridge, Hipper could see the forest of shell splashes enveloping the rear of his line and decided, at 16:27, it was time to break off this unequal contest. He signaled his ships to turn away together (a simultaneous turn by all five ships), 122 degrees, to the southeast. At the head of the line, around 16:28, another little drama played out on Lion’s bridge. A well-placed salvo landed around Princess Royal (astern of Lion) and the tightly grouped water columns completely obscured the battlecruiser. An over-excited signalman promptly ran onto the Admiral’s bridge and announced...”Sir! Princess Royal’s blown up!” Beatty and Chatfield dashed out onto the bridge wing and stared aft in disbelief. A moment later, the shell splashes subsided and Princess Royal was still steaming along with guns blazing. Needless to say, Lion’s bridge contained one very angry Admiral, and a signalman about to receive the sharp edge of his tongue. HMS Southampton, flagship 2nd Cruiser Squadron, as she would have appeared on 31 May 1916. Displacement – 5,400 tons – 25.5 knots – 8x6-inch guns – 2x21-inch torpedo tubes – belt armor 2 inches. Some two and a half miles to the southeast of all the chaos, the British 2nd Light Cruiser Squadron was fanned out on a wide search pattern ahead of Beatty’s Battlecruiser Fleet. Commodore William Goodenough, his flag in HMS Southampton, was the farthest to the east, with HMS Birmingham, Nottingham, and Dublin stretching toward the west. Goodenough was a “cruiser man”. He relished being out on his own, his cruisers racing along, poking their noses into every little thing to see what was what. Much like the free-wheeling frigate captains of Nelson’s day. He simply didn’t have the restrained and prudent temperament of a “battleship captain”. He had resisted the urge to throw his squadron into the destroyer melee going on astern – which was more to his taste than a docile scouting mission. But the Commodore had acted rashly in the past and was not one of Beatty’s “favorites” – so he thought it better to stick to the rules and “be a good lad”. As he stood on the bridge, possibly regretting his decision, the lookout rang down from the foremast and the Commodore’s ears perked up. Flag-lieutenant Arthur Peters answered the hand-set, then turned slightly...”Smoke, sir – two points off the port bow.” Goodenough snatched up his glasses and focused on the horizon...”Helm – two points to port – make revolutions for 22 knots”. The agile cruiser swung gently, gathering speed as the staff clustered on the small bridge. Moments later, wisps of smoke were seen – gradually building and growing as Southampton approached. Within minutes there was a great pall of smoke trailing to the east. And then suddenly, as if by magic, there were the masts, funnels, and upper-works of battleships rising over the horizon. Peters, a little awed by the sight, spoke as the cruiser raced on...”Look, Sir -- this is a light cruiser’s day of a lifetime! The whole of the High Seas Fleet is before you.” This was their mission – what they had trained for – what they were paid to do. The handset from the fore-top rang again, and the lookout filled in the details: sixteen battleships with a torpedo boat screen on either bow, in single-line-ahead, with six smaller battleships bringing up the rear. For the first time in two years of war, the Royal Navy was witness to the full deployment of the Hochseeflotte battle line. The range, rapidly closing, was about 7 miles – 13,000 yards. Peters was filling out a signal pad, ready to send a wireless to Beatty – the primary reason the cruiser squadron existed. As the range continued to close, Commander Edward Rushton remarked...”If you’re going to make that signal, you’d better do it now, Sir – you may never make another”. Peters had already sent the signal, and Goodenough smiled, but did not lower his glasses. Rushton, getting a bit tense, said, as if to himself...”This is madness.” The Commodore lowered the glasses and laughed...”No, no, Commander. Clearly I can do no wrong this day – whatever stupidities I may have committed on other days.” SMS Konig – Konig Class dreadnought battleship – 4 ships commissioned in 1912 and 1913: 25,796 tons – 21 knots – 10x12-inch guns – 14x5.9-inch guns – 5x19.7-inch torpedo tubes – belt armor 13.8 inches. Designed in 1910-1911, these were the most modern and most powerful battleships in the Kaiserliche Marine when war broke out in 1914. They were also the first and only German capital ships to have five main battery turrets on the centreline. On 31 May 1916, Konig was flying the flag of Konteradmiral Paul Behncke, leading the III Battle Squadron, in the vanguard of the Hochseeflotte. Her image would have loomed large and menacing as Commodore Goodenough closed the range from the NW. Unfortunately, I do not have a model of Konig as she would have appeared during the war. This one represents a 1932 design study done by the Reichsmarine in the Wiemar Republic period. However, the Reichsmarine was working within a tight budget, with reduced staff, and fewer design facilities at their disposal. Consequently, they largely kept to the original design parameters and only updated them to reflect technological advances. The changes to the original plan are, for the most part, in their machinery – or are largely visual. In short – they would have been a few knots faster, and looked more modern – but the guns, hull form, and armor would have remained the same as in 1913. This is a comparison between SMS Konig and Derfflinger. The obvious difference in length is entirely due to the difference in speed. At 28 knots, Derfflinger’s considerably longer hull was designed to accommodate the more numerous boilers required to generate that power. The battleship was only designed for 21 knots, so she did not require the elongated hull – but she did pack a more powerful punch into the shorter hull. You will note the similarity in basic design: superfiring 12-inch turrets fore and aft (but with a fifth turret amidships) – twin funnels – and the secondary battery of 5.9-inch guns arrayed in casemates on the Battery Deck. In this detailed comparison, you can pick out the differences and, perhaps, imagine what the battleship might have looked like in 1913. First: there would have been a pole mast forward on the battleship instead of the cumbersome 1932 “military mast”. Second: the funnels would have been larger, and without the “raked” funnel caps. Third: there would be no aircraft catapult on the midships turret. And fourth: the forward and aft superstructure elements would not be as heavy, tall, and built-up as they are in the 1932 version. The bridge and superstructure elements of the 1913 Konig would have looked very similar to what you see on Derfflinger – visually simple, utilitarian, and not more than one deck higher than the armored conning tower. In my opinion, the Konig of 1913 would have been just as powerful, but far more pleasing to the eye than the 1932 design study. (Models courtesy of Barroco Hispano.) Southampton closed to within 12,000 yards – close enough to identify the flag of Konteradmiral Paul Behncke flying above SMS Konig. Any one of fifty 12-inch guns could have blown the little cruiser to oblivion – but the German gunnery officers were having trouble identifying the hazy bow-on view. When they did open fire, Southampton’s helm instantly went hard over and she increased speed to 25 knots. The narrow-hulled cruiser leaned so far into the turn her railings nearly brushed the water. She signaled her consorts (Birmingham, Nottingham, and Dublin) and made off on a zig-zag course as huge fountains of water erupted all about her. Goodenough was determined to maintain contact with the German battle fleet so he could send regular sighting reports to Beatty. But with the mist and haze being what it was, he could only do that if he remained within gun range of the German battleships. Well over forty large shells had already fallen within 75 yards of Southampton, so this was going to be sticky business. Lieutenant Ralph Ireland, the navigation officer, put into action a plan he had worked out some time before – “salvo chasing”. He directed the helmsman to steer the ship toward the last splash of an enemy salvo. The German gunnery officers would make corrections when shells fell “over” or “short” – so by steering toward the splashes, Ireland ensured the ship would never be where they thought. (This was a brilliant idea – but only if the Germans didn’t catch-on to the trick.) SMS Konig, leading the Imperial battle fleet, takes Goodenough’s cruisers under fire as they close the range and signal the position of the German warships to Admiral Jellicoe. HMS Lion picked up Southampton’s sighting report (as did Admiral Jellicoe) and Beatty altered course toward her position. Lion was still in line, but she was in bad shape. One of her four turrets was knocked out and the fires on her forecastle and midships were still raging. She’d been hit in the aft superstructure, leaving a gaping hole in the deck, and two demolished steam launches. Two shells had plunged through the weather deck only feet apart and exploded on the Mess Deck, starting yet another raging fire. Her unreliable dynamos were still functioning, but not at full power, and the mains had been hit in several places so parts of the below-decks were in darkness. The lack of electrical strength had reduced Beatty to using Princess Royal as a “relay” signaling ship for long-range WT traffic. Within minutes, Beatty had visual confirmation the Hochseeflotte was NOT at anchor in the Jade. It was just 12 miles away in line-ahead battle formation and already firing hotly on his scouting cruisers. Beatty had very nearly fallen into the trap set by Scheer. In a matter of moments, he would signal the remaining ships of the Battlecruiser Fleet to turn 16 points to starboard “in succession” – reversing his course. His duty now – was to lure Scheer’s fleet into Jellicoe’s trap. At this point, the “run to the south” is over – but it is worth taking stock. Between 15:48, when the engagement began, to 16:54 (one hour and six minutes), when Beatty reversed course to the NW – the 1st Scouting Group (Imperial battlecruisers) obtained an estimated forty-four 11-inch and 12-inch hits on the British battlecruisers; 9 on Lion – 6 on Princess Royal – 7 on Queen Mary – 14 on Tiger – 1 on New Zealand – 5 on Indefatigable – and 2 on the battleship Barham. By comparison, The Battlecruiser Fleet obtained only eleven 13.5-inch and six 15-inch hits on the German Panzerkreuzer: 4 on Lutzow – 4 on Seydlitz – 2 on Moltke – 1 on Von der Tann, and with 15-inch shells: 1 on Seydlitz – 4 on Moltke – and 1 on Von der Tann. By the end of the “run to the south”, the British had lost 2 battlecruisers and 2 destroyers – while the Germans lost 2 torpedo boats. Again, I have provided a concise map to help you keep track of the confused action. If you have questions – feel free to ask – and I will do my best to answer. BATTLECRUISER ACTION – “RUN TO THE SOUTH” (1) 15:22 - Hipper sights Beatty. (2) 15:48 - First shots fired by Hipper's squadron. (3) 16:00 -16:05 - Indefatigable explodes, leaving two survivors. (4) 16:25 - Queen Mary explodes, eighteen survive. (5) 16:45 - Beatty's battlecruisers move out of range – “Run To The North”. (6) 16:54 - Evan-Thomas's battleships turn north behind Beatty. NEXT TIME…… THE RUN TO THE NORTH MANY THANKS to @Barroco Hispano for his beautiful warship models. SPECIAL THANKS to my friend and partner, @AP, for his talents, meticulous models, colorful imagination, and extreme dedication. If you enjoyed anything – please punch the “like” button so WE will know. A comment would be even more informative. Comments and critiques requested and gratefully accepted. All questions answered promptly to the best of our ability. THANK YOU for your visit! You may wish to visit these CJ’s as well…… SERIES I: IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: WILHELMSHAVEN SERIES II: IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: CUXHAVEN Appearing – Work In Publication SERIES III: IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: BREMERHAVEN Appearing -- ??? And please feel free to drop in at… THE SIMTROPOLIS SHIPYARD https://community.simtropolis.com/forums/topic/761469-simtropolis-shipyard/?tab=comments#comment-1766496

The Run To The South – HMS Lion, Princess Royal, Queen Mary, and Tiger return fire – 15:48 -- 31 May 1916. IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: CUXHAVEN By: Dreadnought & AP Chapter 29: RUN TO THE SOUTH SMS Von der Tann, bringing up the rear of Hipper’s battle line. She is traveling at high speed and battle has not yet been joined. You can also see the torpedo boat screen on her port beam. If a Dane had been walking along a Jutland beach on the afternoon of 31 May 1916, he might easily have looked out to sea – just a bit bewildered. The sky was misty, with some haze, and no sign of a storm brewing. But if he listened carefully, he might have heard the rumble of distant thunder – long and rolling – continuous. He could not possibly have known that many miles out in the North Sea, the advance units of two great battle fleets had stumbled into one another, and the greatest clash of dreadnoughts in all of history had begun. The Imperial German battlecruisers of Vizeadmiral Franz von Hipper’s 1st Scouting Group were steaming SE at 22 knots, exchanging fire with Beatty’s British Battlecruiser Fleet on their starboard beam. Great billowing clouds of funnel smoke poured into the sky and mixed with huge blotches of flame and smoke as the German guns crashed out. Hipper’s light cruisers and torpedo boats were tearing ahead, straining to take up station on his disengaged port side. The Panzerkreuzer had opened fire at 15:48, and quickly settled into a steady and accurate fire, with Lutzow (flag) leading the column. Korvettenkapitan Paschen, Lutzow’s Chief Fire Control Officer, described the first few critical minutes…… “HMS Lion was taken under fire. We fired the first salvo from all four turrets and found it unsatisfactory. They fell predominantly short and concealed the entire target with water columns. For the remainder of the battle, Lutzow fired alternating salvo fire – both forward turrets, followed by both aft turrets. We fired again – flight time 22 seconds. Impact -- left ahead of bow. Deflection 12 right. Salvo! The ship trembles as ‘C’ and ‘D’ turrets fire. Impact – over amidships! Eight down – salvo! Over! Eight down – Salvo! Straddle – hit near bridge!” Two and a half minutes into the engagement, Lutzow had found the enemy’s range and scored the first hit. SMS Lutzow opens fire – 15:48. She is traveling at high speed and the British battlecruisers can just be see in the distance off her starboard beam. Following her are Derfflinger, Seydlitz, Moltke, and Von der Tann. Note the huge smoke cloud from the forward turrets. (Claus Bergen) Astern of the flagship, Korvettenkapitan von Hase, in Derfflinger’s conning tower fire control, was not quite as quick…… “Like thunder our first salvo crashes out. The splashes are well together, but over and right of Princess Royal. Deflection left 2 – down 400 – Salvo! Over! Down 400 – Salvo! Over! Down 800 – Salvo! This, too, went over and I realized my last correction had not been heard or not executed. Down 800! Execute! Salvo! Over! The sixth salvo fired at 15:52 straddled the target – three splashes over and one short at 13,000 yards. At 15:58 a salvo struck the British battlecruiser with two of our 12 inch shells!” The first armor-piercing shell penetrated Princess Royal’s 6-inch belt armor and detonated in a coal bunker. The second shell burst against the armor belt and drove it inboard to a depth of four inches. The impact shock of the two shells temporarily disabled the battlecruiser’s fore-top fire control instruments and control had to be switched to the “B” turret rangefinder. Later, about 16:00, another 12-inch shell struck just below the upper deck at “B” turret, went through the Ward Room bulkhead, an adjacent coaling trunk, and detonated on the turret barbette armor. The explosion pushed the thick plate in about an inch, severely damaged the adjacent compartments, and started several fires – killing 8 and wounding 38. But for some reason unknown to the Germans, though the British had finally begun to return fire, no one was shooting at Derfflinger. As “tactical #3” in the line, SMS Seydlitz was firing on her opposite number, HMS Queen Mary. Her Fire Control Officer, Korvettenkapitan Foerster, received the flagship’s signal and opened fire at 16,400 yards. It is not known if Queen Mary was struck during the opening phase of the battle – her ship’s log did not survive – and Seydlitz was suddenly enveloped in her own emergency. Ten minutes after fire was opened, Foerster’s attention was diverted… “Habler, in Artillery Central, reported by telephone...’Turret Caesar does not give any answer – smoke is pouring out of their speaking tube’. This was the exact same report I had received at the beginning of the Dogger Bank action. I instantly knew we had been hit and the powder cartridges in Caesar turret’s trunk were on fire – the turret was out of action. I mechanically ordered the ‘C’ turret magazine flooded. With the chamber under water, there would be no further danger to the ship.” SMS Seydlitz was hotly engaged with HMS Queen Mary to starboard, steaming at 22 knots, on a SSE course. Her gunnery was good and she continued to straddle the British battlecruiser with rapid salvos. Around 16:58, Queen Mary straddled the Panzerkreuzer and she took a hit in “C” turret. As a point of interest, the Kaiserliche Marine lettered their turrets as follows: “A” turret, “B” turret (starboard wing), “C” turret (superfiring aft), “D” turret (extreme aft), and “E” turret (port wing). Below is a close-up view of “C” and “D” turret. The British 13.5-inch armor-piercing shell apparently penetrated the barbette of “C” turret (superfiring over “D” turret) and exploded in the munitions working chamber, setting off a flash fire among the powder charges. Seydlitz had lost both “C” and “D” turrets in a similar incident at Dogger Bank when the fire passed into the adjoining working chamber and burned out both turrets. Precautions put in place at that time prevented a repeat disaster and “D” turret continued to engage the enemy. Seydlitz by "AP". Fourth in Hipper’s battle line was SMS Moltke, and her Fire Control Officer, Kapitanleutnant Schirmacher, rained down a deadly accurate fire on HMS Tiger in the early part of the engagement. Moltke scored nine hits between 15:48 and 16:00 (twelve minutes). The first shell hit Tiger’s belt armor amidships, pushing it in about three inches. Another shell penetrated the hull and wrecked the C.P.O.’s mess, blowing a hole in the upper deck. The belt was penetrated abreast “A” turret and the shell struck the barbette armor, pushing it in six inches and filling the handling trunk with toxic gases. The port side belt armor was penetrated by yet another shell, destroying the Stoker’s mess and leaving a 10x4-foot hole in the main deck. At 15:54 “Q” turret was struck on the roof, the shell entering the turret and doing considerable damage to the gun controls. Though later repaired, the turret only fired 32 rounds during the entire battle. At 15:58, an 11-inch shell penetrated the hull at the upper deck level, traveled through intervening bulkheads, and blasted a 2x1-foot hole in the “X” turret barbette armor. The turret was only temporarily disabled, but when it came back on line, the director control instruments had also been damaged (probably concussive vibration) and it fired 19 degrees off target. Around 16:58 an 11-inch shell penetrated the armor belt in the machinery spaces just above the protective armored deck. The projectile passed through an ammunition handling passageway starting a fire, and carried on into the turbine spaces – narrowly missing the main steam pipe to the turbines. Had the shell struck that pipe, the battlecruiser would have gone “dead in the water”. The remaining shells caused considerable damage to light structures and non-essential compartments – starting several fires above and below decks. During all this damage to HMS Tiger -- Moltke remained unscathed – despite being under fire from both Tiger and New Zealand. Some time around 16:20, a near miss did fall close off Moltke’s starboard bow, resulting in minor flooding forward. At the end of the battlecruiser line was SMS Von der Tann – the oldest and smallest of them. Nevertheless, she was delivering a fast and accurate fire onto HMS Indefatigable – one of the very ships she had been designed to destroy. Within a minute and a half, she straddled and hit her target with the third salvo. For her part, Indefatigable was firing high and wide. British shells were landing among the light cruisers and torpedo boats on Von der Tann’s disengaged port side, forcing them to take evasive action. The German fire was so accurate, the shell splashes frequently obscured Indefatigable from sight. Captain Sowerby “yawed” the battlecruiser to port and starboard to evade the shells and throw off the German’s aim, but Von der Tann’s gunnery officer, Korvettenkapitan Mahrholz, quickly made corrections and continued to “straddle” his target with rapid salvo fire. This is a close-up of HMS Indefatigable’s deck detail. Note the areas around “A” turret and “X” turret. This will help “visualize” some of the action as it unfolds. (Model by "Barroco Hispano".) When the signal to open fire was finally run up Lion’s halyards, her massive guns roared to life – quickly followed by her squadron mates. But the British battlecruisers fired more out of a sense of urgency than with any degree of certainty. Like the opening German salvos, the shells fell over the target – but WELL over the target. The majority of Hipper’s ships found the range by the third salvo (a minute and a half to two minutes). The British were nowhere near that good. With poor rangefinders, a haze shrouding the eastern horizon, and their own funnel smoke obscuring the German ships, the British might as well have been firing “blind”. Boedicker’s 2nd Scouting Group had fallen back and taken up station about a mile off Hipper’s disengaged port beam. Suddenly, the light cruiser SMS Regensburg and her torpedo boats found themselves passing through mountainous columns of erupting water as British shells splashed down. The disengaged German light forces were in far greater danger than the Panzerkreuzer line. Even worse – Boedicker’s little ships continued to suffer under this punishing bombardment until they could sheer out of range – because the British were unbelievably slow to realize their error. HMS Tiger actually fired on Regensburg for a full ten minutes! Poor shooting by HMS Indefatigable and New Zealand was not an exception to the rule. Both the 1st and 2nd Battlecruiser squadrons fired off a great deal of large caliber ammunition during the “run to the south” – most of which, fell far beyond the target. Beatty’s relaxed attitude toward gunnery practice has already been noted, and more practice would undoubtedly have been to their benefit. But historians have more often excused inferior shooting by citing poor visibility. It is quite true the sun was to the west in the afternoon, and sharply silhouetted the British warships, while a gradually darkening eastern sky benefited the Germans. Throw in a thickening mist, a low-hanging haze along the coast, some patchy fog -- and the low-profile, light gray German warships would blend right in. A Barr & Stroud, 9-foot, coincidence rangefinder with electrical computing and repeating transmission unit. It is a relatively compact unit that can be installed almost anywhere. Rule of thumb: the greater the distance between the periscope apertures at either end – the more accurate the range estimate. The British were further handicapped by their optical rangefinders. The majority of British dreadnoughts at Jutland used a 9-foot, Barr & Stroud, coincidence rangefinder. (Some ships – HMS Orion and the ships of the 5th Battle Squadron – were equipped with an improved 15-foot model.) This device worked well in clear weather, but required visible, sharp edges so the two images could be merged into a single target image. Finding clear, sharp lines on a target during hazy weather proved problematic, to say the least. One British naval officer once remarked...”Naval gunnery was like taking a rifle and shooting at running rabbits from the back seat of a car moving at 30 miles per hour. The wonder is we ever hit anything…” The Kaiserliche Marine used 9-foot Zeiss stereoscopic rangefinders (replaced by 1918 with 12 and 15-foot models) which were high-magnification and well-suited to the hazy conditions in the North Sea. They were even more excellent at shorter ranges, which coincided with the somewhat limited battle ranges of their main battery gun turrets. This aspect allowed German ships to find the range much more quickly, therefore inflicting damage before the British. The German gunnery officers also went into battle knowing their guns, though smaller in caliber, were in many ways superior to British ordnance. German guns were “built-up” and preformed uniformly over long periods of firing. The British guns were wire-wound and cased, and tended to “droop” when they got hot – seriously impairing accuracy. The intense exchange of gunfire between Von der Tann and Indefatigable continued for about fourteen minutes, until approximately 16:02, when the British battlecruiser was struck by three shells around her aft gun turret. Korvettenkapitan Mahrholz observed an explosion and Indefatigable immediately swung out of line to starboard, settling by the stern. (The German armor-piercing shells likely punched through the 1 inch deck plates and exploded deep in the ship – igniting the aft magazine and blowing the bottom out of her.) Within mere seconds, Von der Tann’s next salvo (fired at the extreme range of 17,700 yards) came in and two projectiles struck the British ship up forward. One shell slammed through the forecastle deck while the other penetrated the roof of “A” turret. Mahrholz’ after action report describes what he saw…… “I saw a giant explosion in the aft gun turret, a bright flame flashed up and ship debris was thrown into the air in a wide arc. As what appeared to be the turret roof landed on their aft deck, our next salvo arrived and two hits were obtained forward – one through “A” turret. A gigantic black smoke cloud rose above the ship and she lay over to port, as if to capsize. Less than 30 seconds later, there was a tremendous explosion, with a massive black smoke cloud reaching double the mast height and settling over the water. Pieces of the ship were seen to go in all directions – with a 50-foot steam launch rising two hundred feet before falling into the sea. When the smoke cleared, the enemy was gone.” HMS Indefatigable, mortally stricken, heels over to port the moment before she explodes and goes to the bottom. Her stern has gone under and her bow has lifted out of the water. It is possible this photo was taken from the deck of SMS Von der Tann as she passes to port. As near as analysts can figure, Indefatigable’s aft turret trunk had been hit and “ready” powder charges set on fire. The flames must have reached the aft magazine about the time the shell penetrated “A” turret, causing an explosive flash that reached down into the forward magazine. Apparently both magazines exploded almost simultaneously – shattering the thin-skinned cruiser and sending her to the bottom. (This was only 15 minutes into the battle.) A crew of 57 officers and 960 men went down with her. When the German lookouts aboard Lutzow reported Indefatigable’s loss, Hipper was – to say the least – skeptical. He calmly strode out on the starboard bridge wing and trained his glasses aft – to the massive column of smoke rising into the sky. He counted only five British battlecruisers remaining in line, grunted his approval, and lit a fresh cigar before turning his attention back to Lion. No one present that day had ever witnessed a modern capital ship disappear in a “puff of smoke”. Throughout the exchange, Von der Tann fired 52-11 inch and 38-5.9 inch shells, opening at 17,700 yards and closing to 13,500 yards. We do not know how many shells actually struck Indefatigable, because her ship’s log went down with her. But Von der Tann claimed the first victim of the Battle Of Jutland – while she, herself, remained undamaged. Admiral Hipper had deliberately closed the range, withholding the fire of his lead ships until his last ship, Von der Tann, was within gun range – and the gamble had paid-off handsomely. HMS Barham, 5th Battle Squadron, leading Malaya, Warspite, and Valiant – trailing Beatty’s line by 10 miles. Around 15:30, before the guns had opened, the German and British squadrons settled onto a gradually converging southeasterly course. The opposing Vice-Admirals had clearly demonstrated their intention to give battle – here, and now. And the next eighteen minutes have, for over a century, given naval analysts and historians cause to level severe criticism at Beatty for the confused and inept handling of his three squadrons (only ten capital ships). Ernle Chatfield (Beatty’s flag-captain) was on HMS Lion’s compass platform with his navigator and the chief gunnery officer and his staff. He was studying the German battlecruisers as the range closed and already knew Beatty had lost his first great advantage. The mist and haze to the east (about 12 miles) made ranging on the target difficult – and the British funnel smoke was blowing down-range -- further obscuring the German ships. At the same time, several destroyers of the 9th and 10th Flotillas passed between the opposing squadrons, struggling to reach their station ahead of the Battlecruiser Fleet – and their funnel smoke was making the situation intolerable. Beatty’s capital ships could have opened fire at 23,000 yards (5th Battle Squadron at 30,000 yards) – which, at the lower figure, exceeded Hipper’s maximum gun range of approximately 18,000 yards. That, and Beatty’s slight speed advantage, would have allowed him to stand off and pound the German battlecruisers to rubble. The poor visibility in the east and the roiling clouds of funnel smoke effectively dashed those hopes. Chatfield dutifully passed a message to Beatty that the squadron should open fire at once – but no response was forthcoming. Below Chatfield, on the Admiral’s bridge, were Beatty, his secretary, other staff, and the hapless “flag-lieutenant” Ralph Seymour. As HMS Lion charged along at 24 knots, Beatty was dictating a sighting report to his secretary, to be sent off to Jellicoe (never mind it contained insufficient data). At the same time, he was rattling off a string of flag signals to Seymour in an attempt to get his squadrons into battle formation. Each ship had slightly different speed capabilities, and while the four “cats” were keeping up – New Zealand and Indefatigable were overloading their boilers and gradually losing ground. The line was also staggered (some to port, some to starboard) and seemed to be having difficulty falling into “line ahead” formation. The scouting light cruisers were off somewhere – either skirmishing or chasing the German light cruisers as they disengaged to take station on Hipper. And the British destroyer flotillas, “on their own initiative”, were careening around, hard pressed to follow the big ships. As mentioned before, two flotillas even cut across the engaged front of the British battlecruisers to reach their station at the head of the line. (Jellicoe would have had heart failure!) Worst of all – little thought had been given to maneuvering the powerful fast-battleships of the 5th Battle Squadron. As Beatty’s “Splendid Cats” (battlecruisers) accelerated, Chatfield was keenly aware 5th Battle Squadron (Queen Elizabeth’s) was at least ten miles astern – out of gun range -- and falling farther behind with each passing minute. Beatty’s first turn to the SE to engage the Germans, and his first signaling error, had put them 10 miles astern. When Beatty increased to 24 knots, that put them even farther behind. HMS Tiger had, at the time, been relaying signals from the flagship to the 5th Battle Squadron by signal lamp (they were already too far behind to see flags). As Tiger sped up and closed-up into battle formation – that link was broken. Even if Beatty had given any specific thought to the 5th Battle Squadron – there was no communication channel. Beatty had, in effect, thrown away his second great advantage over the enemy. Small wonder history has judged Beatty harshly. This is a depiction of what Hipper’s battle line would have looked like before opening fire at 15:48. In the left hand column, facing the enemy, you have the battlecruisers Lutzow (flag) followed by Derfflinger, Seydlitz, Moltke, and Von der Tann. The middle column is composed of torpedo boats – on the disengaged port beam of the battlecruisers. On the far right, you have the light cruiser SMS Regensburg, assigned as a flotilla leader. (Again, I have greatly reduced the distance between ships in order to fit them into the picture.) Seydlitz model by "AP" -- all other models by "Barroco Hispano". This is a little more detail. The torpedo boats that later went into the attack were largely from the 6th Flotilla, composed of “V”, “G”, and “S” Class boats. Just for simplicity’s sake, I have used the model of G-101. When the signal to attack was hoisted, some of the torpedo boats would have increased speed, gotten ahead of Lutzow, and cut across her bows to get at the enemy. Others would have simply used their speed and agility to cut through the gaps between the big ships. (No doubt risky – but probably quite a “rush”!) The model of Seydlitz (center) is a work of art by @AP. The remainder of the wonderful models are graciously provided by @Barroco Hispano. In the foreground you see SMS Regensburg, the torpedo boat Flotilla Leader. The Flotilla Leader is, basically, an “overall commander” for one or more flotillas. When an attack is ordered, the light cruiser goes in with its flotillas and provides as much tactical control as possible during a skirmish (very little, really). If The torpedo boats get into trouble, the Leader provides a “rally point” for them to regroup under cover of his 6 inch guns. If the boats needed a little extra muscle to get through to their targets – the cruiser throws its weight into the battle. If the opportunity presents itself, the cruiser will also close to launch torpedoes. All-in-all – a job for younger men with steady nerves. At this point, it is worth remembering – when Admiral Hipper swung to the SE to give battle, he reduced the squadron’s speed, temporarily, to 18 knots so he could; (1) form line of battle; (2) close-up his Panzerkreuzer; (3) assign “fire distribution” (4) get his light forces shifted to the disengaged port beam; (5) clear his own funnel smoke – and then resume his converging course at 22 knots -- a speed ALL his ships could easily maintain. (Those steps fulfilled one of the essential rules of warfare – “concentration of force”. If there was a Naval Tactics textbook in the Kaiserliche Marine, those steps would have been listed.) Only then, with plenty of time remaining, did Hipper concentrate on closing the range. His battlecruisers had been out-ranged at Dogger Bank, and he feared Beatty would again use his superior gun range to stand off. Hipper knew he must close the range until his guns could reach Beatty’s battle line. So while Chatfield was sweating bullets on Lion’s compass platform, Beatty was on the bridge below, his attention diverted as he feverishly tried to get his squadrons sorted out. Why? Because he had failed to do so early on -- when there was available time. The British battlecruisers were still maneuvering into position – but worst of all – none of them could obtain a reasonably accurate range to target. According to long established Royal Navy protocol, the squadron was waiting for Beatty to make the signal to open fire – but Lion’s rangefinders were still getting obscured and mixed readings of up to 25,000 yards from their coincidence rangefinders – well beyond the range of his 13.5-inch weapons. Meanwhile, Hipper succeeded in closing the range and decided the issue by opening fire first. Chatfield, as “flag-captain”, knew he could wait no longer for Beatty -- and gave the order to open fire. Lion’s big 13.5-inch guns thundered, soon followed by the rest of the battle line, but every shot fired went “over” (only Princess Royal came close). The German ships, even at 15,000 yards, were still diffuse gray shapes against the mist and haze, and it took the British much longer to adjust the range. Beatty suddenly realized he was much closer to the German line than he thought, and opened the range by changing to a SSE course. Between 15:48 and 15:53, HMS Lion was hit twice by Lutzow. Hipper, getting the best of the fight, followed onto a southerly course, and a steady, thunderous, gunnery duel developed on a converging course at about 16,000 yards. It proved to be the most destructive gunfight in modern history. Beatty had, at 15:46 (just before Hipper opened fire), finally hoisted a flag signal ordering “distribution of fire”. Lion and Princess Royal were to take on Lutzow (in an attempt to take out the German flagship) – Queen Mary was to target Derfflinger – Tiger was to shoot at Seydlitz – New Zealand at Moltke, and Indefatigable to fire on Von der Tann. But in the confusion and rush to prepare for battle, two of the British ships missed the signal flags. As a consequence, Queen Mary fired at her opposite number – Seydlitz – leaving Derfflinger unhindered for a full ten minutes. HMS Tiger also missed the flag hoist, with the result that both she and New Zealand fired on Moltke – with little success. This is the left 12-inch rifle inside one of Lutzow’s main battery turrets. You see the big 12-inch projectile on the loading tray ready to be pushed into the gun chamber. The rating standing against the front wall of the turret is operating the controls of the new mechanical ramming mechanism designed for the Derfflinger Class battlecruisers. Two ratings to the right are preparing to roll powder charges from the ammunition hoist, down a swinging tray, and into the rammer cradle. Two charges will be rammed into the gun chamber behind the shell. In testing, the projectile and charges of the new 12-inch guns were too heavy to sustain a rate of three rounds per minute manually, so mechanical ramming was used for the first time in a German capital ship. You will note two other ratings wearing slings and bandages. Even if a gun crew was not injured by direct enemy fire, a gun turret was a dangerous place to be, and concussion from outside the turret could be equally harmful. (The painting is by the renown German naval artist Claus Bergen.) As the British gradually acquired the range, and the various ship’s crews concentrated upon their individual tasks, the gunnery grew in noise and intensity. Aboard the Panzerkreuzer, memories of the Dogger Bank action may have flashed through their minds, but they faded quickly. That had been a wild, confused chase with comparatively little result. This was quickly developing into a grim, toe-to-toe slugging match, with neither side showing any interest in withdrawing. Nerves steadied and spotters and range-takers moved with precision and spoke quickly. The director chiefs manned their phone lines and flicked their repeater switches with robot-like calm. Inside the thick steel gunhouses, the turret crews worked amid thin wisps of cordite smoke drifting in the dim light – rolling the big shells from the hoists onto the loading trays -- pushing the rammer levers forward and back as they rammed them into the gun breech – repeating the process for the two powder charges with a mechanical rhythm – again and again. The gun layers attention would be focused on their control boards as they made regular corrections – looking neither left, nor right – no matter the noise or vibration. Commands were shouted over the din of the heavy machinery as the giant rifles were elevated yet again. A few more lateral adjustments – and the firing alarm rang out – “KA-BOOOM”. The over-pressure blast of the big guns wrenched at their ears and pushed against their eyes – even though they covered the one and closed the other tightly. For just a moment, there would be a dizzy feeling – but the sight of the big rifles recoiling, the breech sliding open, and the sound as the empty powder casing clanged to the turret floor would bring them back to their senses. Instantly, the macabre dance would begin again. Hipper’s five battlecruisers quickly registered hits on three of the six British battlecruisers. But it was fully seven minutes before the British obtained their first hit. Up on Lion’s bridge, it quickly became apparent no amount of training or sea duty could ever prepare a human being for battle…… “All around us huge columns of water, higher than the funnels, were thrown up as the enemy shells plunged into the sea. Some of the gigantic splashes curled over and, with the force of a hammer, deluged us with water. Occasionally, above the roar of the big guns, we heard the ominous buzz of a shell splinter and caught a fleeting glimpse of polished steel as it flashed past the bridge.” -- Lieutenant Chalmers The first near-disaster of the day had occurred at 15:58 when Seydlitz was struck on “C” turret and narrowly avoided destruction. As the gunnery duel heated up at the head of the column, Lion obtained a hit on Lutzow at 15:57. But the second near-disaster of the day occurred around 16:02, when one of Lutzow’s 12-inch shells struck Lion’s “Q” turret at 16,500 yards. The projectile penetrated the joint between the face-plate and the roof plate – blowing both plates into the air. The shell entered the gunhouse, detonated over the left gun, killed or wounded everyone in the turret, and started a smoldering fire among the powder charges. A mortally wounded Royal Marines Major, Francis Harvey, the Turret Captain, feared an explosion in the turret trunk – and he lived long enough to order the magazine doors closed and flooded. Seconds later, eight full powder charges in the lower handling chamber ignited and burned violently – flames rising to the masthead. The fire killed all but one of the munitions crew still in the chamber. But Major Harvey’s heroic action saved the battlecruiser from certain destruction, earning him a posthumous Victoria Cross. Around 16:00, Hipper turned away one point to port. In the heat of battle, he had allowed the range to close to about 12,000 yards – and that was simply too close. Though his secondary batteries were in range, and scoring hits on the British, the wily Bavarian had taken note of his enemy’s poor marksmanship. He reasoned that getting too close to the English might improve their gunnery. As the range gradually and imperceptibly opened, the British salvos began to go ”...wild and wide of the mark” – while the German salvos continued to fall on or among the British in those uncannily tight groupings. Four minutes later, the range had opened to just under 17,000 yards and Hipper steadied-up on course. Across the shell-torn stretch of water, still under an intense fire, Beatty turned away three points to starboard and ran up a flag signal informing HMS Princess Royal the flagship’s wireless antennas had been shot away. Apparently the fire control system for the German secondary batteries was wreaking havoc aboard HMS Lion. Thousands of British officers and men were below decks tending to their vital tasks, or were sealed inside the steel gun turrets above deck. Those that could actually see the battle, were shocked and stunned by the loss of Indefatigable. Moments after she went down, Lieutenant Chalmers left his post on Lion’s bridge for a quick look around…… “I stepped out onto the flagship’s bridge wing and looked aft down the line of firing ships. How magnificent they looked with their huge bow waves and the flashing broadsides with mountains of smoke. But astern of them, I saw only an enormous pall of gray smoke. I gazed at this in amazement, and at the same time tumbled to the fact there were now only five battlecruisers in our line...I glanced quickly towards the enemy. How many of them were still afloat? Still five.” The British had been blazing away, with their bigger guns and more numerous ships, and while they were certainly scoring hits, it did not seem to matter. The German battlecruisers steamed on at full speed with their rate of fire and capacity to deal out damage seemingly undiminished. Hipper and his battlecruisers were turning out to be a tougher lot than Beatty had allowed for. With all that had gone on since August 1914, this was really the first time Beatty had managed to come to grips with the Imperial German battlecruisers. At Dogger Bank, Hipper had sensed a trap, and the whole affair turned into a muddled stern chase. The German Admiral had wisely refused to give battle under unfavorable circumstances and all Beatty managed was to sink SMS Blucher – a ship that was hardly a match for his battlecruisers. But on this day, Beatty got his wish. Hipper had willingly offered battle on his own terms and Beatty was getting a proper crack at them. And he was only just beginning to learn how hard it was to sink a German battlecruiser. SMS Lutzow leading Derfflinger on the “Run To The South”. On the left of the picture, you can see the British shells largely falling far “over” their targets. The British battlecruisers can be dimly seen off their starboard bows. A destroyer skirmish appears to be in progress ahead of the advancing battle lines (upper left of picture). Note the huge smoke clouds from Lutzow’s guns and the heavy smoke column issuing from her funnels as she steams at high speed. The whole arena of battle is smothered in a mixture of gun smoke, funnel smoke, and mist, that literally blots out the sky. (Claus Bergen) HMS Lion’s log may show us part of the reason for Admiral Beatty’s revelation. Despite being fired upon by Lion and Princess Royal – Lutzow’s gunnery was outstanding. The German flagship had obtained nine hits on Beatty’s flagship between 15:51 and 16:24. (Roughly one shell every four minutes.) And though they all caused some sort of cumulative damage, the only serious event was the loss of “Q” turret at 16:02. Quite frankly, Beatty, Chatfield, and the other bridge staff only learned of the near-disaster when a lone Sergeant of Marines stumbled onto the bridge – wounded and severely burned – to report the turret out of action and the magazines flooded. (He was the only survivor.) There is little doubt this startling and shocking drama on Lion’s bridge, combined with the frequent jolting hits, had an effect. Beatty had been singularly focused on closing his enemy. Hipper, equally intent, monitored his range while the Panzerkreuzer dropped tight, accurate salvos on the British line and his secondary batteries blazed away at maximum range. Lutzow’s starboard 5.9-inch guns could fire a total of 42 rounds per minute and would cause considerable damage to the lightly armored English cruisers. At 12,000 yards, the sudden loss of Lion’s “Q” turret – followed by a blizzard of medium shells – had alerted Beatty to the fact he’d gotten in too close. At 16:10, Lion suddenly sheered out of line, fired two torpedoes at Derfflinger, and disappeared into the smoke by 16:24. Dodging into the smoke would give Lion a brief respite while her gunners caught their breath and damage control crews fought the out-of-control blaze amidships. This macabre minuet – in and out – back and forth – was played out numerous times as the two aggressive admirals jockeyed for advantage. Though hard-pressed, in all truth, HMS Lion must have been a “cat” with nine lives -- four of Lutzow’s 12-inch shells had failed to detonate. At 16:15, Princess Royal, also firing on Lutzow, landed two 13.5-inch shells on target. One projectile struck Lutzow’s waterline belt abreast the aft conning tower, delivered a violent punch, but failed to penetrate. The other shell penetrated the deck between the “A” and “B” turret barbettes and exploded, wiping out the forward battle dressing station. When Lion sheered off, Lutzow immediately took Princess Royal under fire and straddled her with the first salvo. Derfflinger was already firing on the British ship and, in quick succession, Princess Royal had the right gun of “Q” turret put out of action, her second funnel was shot through, a shell struck her armor belt abreast the fore funnel, and a projectile struck “A” turret. The shell failed to penetrate, but caused the breech of the left gun to jam shut. The shell also bent the retractor lever of the right gun, causing it to misfire frequently. Princess Royal’s “A” turret continued to fire – occasionally -- but could not be relied upon. The gun duel between SMS Seydlitz and HMS Queen Mary had been carrying on at a fast and furious pace, with each ship landing regular, well-timed salvos. Queen Mary was continually “straddled”, with Seydlitz’ shell splashes often obscuring the battlecruiser from view. As the German ship continued to close the range, the sweating and straining men inside the squat steel gunhouses fired-off salvos at 20-second intervals, while her 5.9-inch casemate batteries fired a blizzard of shells at Queen Mary’s upper works – blasting holes in the superstructure and starting numerous small fires. Around 16:20, with the range down to 12,900 yards, Queen Mary miraculously landed two 13.5-inch shells on Seydlitz’ forward gun turret. The first shell struck the turret’s side armor, failed to penetrate, but jammed the turret fast before ricocheting over the side and exploding in mid-air. The second shell struck the turret faceplate squarely, penetrated, and left a neat, round hole the size of the shell. The projectile did a great deal of damage to the turret’s interior machinery, but failed to detonate. Kapitan von Egidy heard the sharp crack of the impact on the turret, but focused his glasses back on Queen Mary and carried on the running gun battle with his three remaining turrets. Just thirty-five minutes into the engagement, Beatty was learning that a “proper crack” at Hipper’s battlecruisers was proving to be a hot and brutal affair. HMS Lion had been repeatedly hit and lost one turret. Princess Royal had been roughly handled with two turrets damaged and numerous fires blazing. Queen Mary had one turret damaged and her upper works “peppered” and set afire. And -- HMS Indefatigable had gone down in a massive explosion. Beatty started the battle with Hipper outnumbered six ships to five. Half an hour later, Hipper had managed to inflict serious damage on the British and evened the odds into the bargain. Hipper, for his part, was pressing the issue and using his well-armored battlecruisers to good advantage. His Krupp armor was keeping his battlecruisers intact and afloat while his 11-inch and 12-inch guns slowly dismantled the thinly armored British warships. What’s more, the “Run To The South” had only just begun. For those of you having trouble keeping all this straight – don’t feel bad. The times of incidents often overlap -- others need more explanation, etc, etc. The “Run To The South” was a brutal slugging-match with a great deal of action to include. And it should be pointed out -- nearly two thirds of all the serious battle action at Jutland occurred at this time. I found a simple, but concise map to help. If you have questions – feel free to ask. BATTLECRUISER ACTION – “RUN TO THE SOUTH” (1) 15:22 - Hipper sights Beatty. (2) 15:48 - First shots fired by Hipper's squadron. (3) 16:00 -16:05 - Indefatigable explodes, leaving two survivors. (4) 16:25 - Queen Mary explodes, eighteen survive. (5) 16:45 - Beatty's battlecruisers move out of range – “Run To The North”. (6) 16:54 - Evan-Thomas's battleships turn north behind Beatty. NEXT TIME…… “...SOMETHING WRONG WITH OUR BLOODY SHIPS...” But before we leave you…… How about a tour of the munitions handling complex. In Cuxhaven, the munitions complex is set up with a connection to the main rail line and to the munitions distribution docks – munitions can be brought to the storage bunkers either by rail or by sea. This is an overview of the distributions quays. Left to right you have the Italian heavy cruiser Zara, the US destroyer Clemson, and the battlecruiser KM Scharnhorst. You will note the rail line behind the quays has been arranged so that all three replenishment points can be accessed at the same time without traffic jams. This very fine model of Scharnhorst is provided courtesy of @Barroco Hispano and shows her as she would have appeared upon commissioning in January 1939: 32,100 tons – 31 knots – 9x11-inch guns – 12x5.9-inch guns – 14x4.1-inch AA guns – 16x1.5-inch AA guns – 6x21-inch torpedo tubes – belt armor 13.8 inches – 1 catapult and 3 Arado, Ar-196A-3 float planes. There has long been a debate as to whether Scharnhorst was a battlecruiser or a battleship – but her design was based on the final plans of the Imperial battlecruiser Ersatz Yorck, which was never completed. The pedigree seems clear enough to me – so I absolutely had to work her into the CJ somewhere! In essence – she was the last battlecruiser ever commissioned by the German Navy. She was armed with an “improved” 11-inch gun – for political reasons. In the mid-1930’s, it was feared 15-inch guns might cause the British to “get the wind up”. In this close-up of the dock activity, you can see the working parties unloading main gun ammunition from the shuttle locomotives to the quay for delivery to the warship. There are masses of people bustling about – unloading shells, checking them for imperfections, cleaning the rounds, and hauling them about with hand-trucks or loading them into cargo racks to be hoisted aboard the battlecruiser. In real life, docks are seldom quiet places, and we have tried hard to recreate the hundreds of crew and working parties involved in servicing a capital ship. This is a rear view of the quayside. The docks were modified from the “PEG SNM Series” (battleship docks) with “WMP Seawalls” added as timber bumpers on the outer edges. The large dockside cranes were borrowed from the “PEG Trash Removal” lots and resized to better fit the surrounding models. The 100 ton cranes trackside are by “AP”. The ammunition shuttle locomotives and “rolling stock” were modeled by “AP” from old pictures of equipment on German WW I period military railroads. The Great War would not have been possible without railroads. Artillery battery commanders, in particular, were shocked to find they could fire off a year’s worth of peacetime artillery shells in just a matter of hours. The British thought they had enough reserve artillery ammunition to last through a “short war” – perhaps a year. More than half of it was expended in the first two weeks of actual combat. Various props have been used to “dress-out” the scene, but the many “specialized” props were created by “AP” – sailors, shells, etc, etc. At the end of the quay, there are two Esmeralda Class paddle tugs moored to “barrel buoys”, while an Odin Class (diagonal) tug is visible at the top preparing to take two loaded lighters under tow. Barrel buoys, mooring dolphins, paddle tugs, and the Odin are the meticulous work of “AP”. Here you see a Clemson Class destroyer preparing to take aboard a full load of torpedoes. The Clemson’s were a large class of destroyers built by the US Navy over a number of years. The early versions of the extended class served during WW I, while others were completed between the wars. Under the “Lend Lease” agreement, 50 of them did yeoman service with the Royal Navy in WW II. Characteristics: 1,215 tons – 35.5 knots – 4x4-inch guns – 1x3-inch AA gun -- 12x21-inch torpedo tubes – no armor. USS Clemson is by “Barroco Hispano”. The 100 ton cranes quayside and the 20 ton cranes trackside are by “AP”, as are the shuttle locomotives, rail cars, and torpedoes. This is the Italian heavy cruiser Zara: Commissioned 1931 – 11,326 tons – 32 knots_8x8-inch guns – 16x3.9-inch guns – 34 AA guns – 2 seaplanes – belt armor 5.9 inches. As with all Italian warships built or modernized between the wars, they were quite handsome, with sleek lines and high speed. She is preparing to top-off her magazines with 8-inch shells and powder charges. In this shot, you can see the powder charges in brass cases stacked in rows on the quayside. Next to them are the 8-inch shells – ready to be hoisted aboard and stowed in the magazines. Again, the shuttle engines and ammunition cars are by “AP”, along with the shell and powder stacks – and, of course – the sailors and 20 ton cranes. This rear view of the quay gives a good view of the ammunition handling parties and the ammunition trains. We’ll continue this tour in Chapter 31. MANY THANKS to @Barroco Hispano for his beautiful warship models. SPECIAL THANKS to my friend and partner, @AP, for his talents, meticulous models, colorful imagination, and extreme dedication. If you enjoyed anything – please punch the “like” button so WE will know. A comment would be even more informative. Comments and critiques requested and gratefully accepted. All questions answered promptly to the best of our ability. THANK YOU for your visit! You may wish to visit these CJ’s as well…… SERIES I: IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: WILHELMSHAVEN SERIES II: IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: CUXHAVEN Appearing – Work In Publication SERIES III: IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: BREMERHAVEN Appearing -- ??? And please feel free to drop in at… THE SIMTROPOLIS SHIPYARD https://community.simtropolis.com/forums/topic/761469-simtropolis-shipyard/?tab=comments#comment-176649600000

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

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

Hochseeflotte at anchor in the Kieler Hafen – circa 1912. IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: CUXHAVEN By: Dreadnought & AP We have, so far, discussed the design, construction, and operational histories of the Imperial German battlecruisers. We are now about to see how they were handled by the Admirals and Captains, and how they preformed when put to the ultimate test – the Battle Of Jutland. I give you fair warning that this may be somewhat confusing. I have never yet examined a clear and concise – detailed – description of this battle. The immense size of the two fleets, and the fact that they were split into four distinct tactical groups – and spread over a large expanse of ocean -- can cause difficulties for anyone trying to write a lucid account of the action. I have tried, as much as possible, to stick to a “historical” chronological time sequence for the different events of interest. This has not been easy to accomplish. In order to maintain some sort of continuity to the story line, we may have to do a “flash-back” or even a “fast-forward” – this allows me to maintain a complete “story line” without splitting it into confusing parts. The keys to keeping everything in order are the quoted “times” in the text. The Choice was made to split the two fleets into separate components because they preformed different actions and maneuvers at similar times, for very different reasons. So the story is sorted into segments on the British Grand Fleet battle line – the British Battlecruiser Fleet – the Imperial Hochseeflotte battle line – and the Imperial 1st Scouting Group battlecruisers. I will try to show what each of these groups was doing at certain specific times of the battle so you will know what “everyone” was up to. Now -- let’s turn to “literary license”. “History” is not just names, dates, and numbers. It could be a high school project paper, a college term paper, a PHD thesis, a reference work, or a “narrative history” – with the writing shaped to the needs of the given work. I will tell you, frankly – each author brings their own view on the subject matter. Six different authors will produce six different views on any given subject. Case in point: many authors will tell you Erwin Rommel was a tactical and strategic genius – others will tell you he was erratic, impulsive, and ineffective. What some writers consider to be accepted historical fact – others will dispute – and produce their own view of those accepted historical facts. My treatment of the Battle of Jutland is no different. While I accept certain aspects of the battle as “hard fact” – other parts are my own particular viewpoint. In many cases, we cannot know what was in the mind of Admiral Tirpitz when he insisted on certain design and tactical aspects of the battlecruisers. And we cannot know, for certain, what was in Admiral Scheer’s mind on that fateful afternoon. But where recorded fact is absent, we may – through the use of logic and available data – extrapolate a more plausible reasoning behind their actions. I have attempted to do that in instances where there is no “accepted fact” or where the facts stated by the participants do not match with their actions. Where the narrative differs from the written word -- it is MY viewpoint – based on logic, human nature, and the physical and political conditions under which they fought. I have also taken the liberty to “call out” the various parties who indulged in “propaganda” -- or “self promotion” to make themselves look better at the expense of others. Having said all of that, I hope you will enjoy reading…... Chapter 26: THE BEST LAID PLANS In January 1916, Vizeadmiral Hugo von Pohl was forced to relinquish command of the Hochseeflotte due to advanced liver cancer (he died within a month of stepping down). Vizeadmiral Reinhard Scheer was chosen as the new Flottenchef. He was of the opinion the fleet had never been handled properly. Scheer knew he had better ships than the British – his men were just as eager for battle as his enemy – and he was inclined toward a more aggressive strategy. But Scheer was also a practical man. With only 27 capital ships he could not possibly engage 37 British capital ships in a straight-up slugging match. Consequently he fell back on the already standard policy of “tip and run raids”. The idea was to cause a public outcry in Britain by bombarding seaside targets -- thereby forcing the Royal Navy to send capital ships in response. Because of their high speed, it was only logical for Scheer to use the Panzerkreuzer as the bombardment group – and the bait for the trap. The Royal Navy, with centuries of aggressive tradition, would also send fast battlecruisers to intercept the raid. Von Hipper’s 1st Scouting Group would then lure the British over the horizon to be ambushed and destroyed by the massed guns of the Hochseeflotte. By this process, the Oberkommando der Marine hoped to whittle down the Grand Fleet to the point where an engagement might become practical. But these raids had not proven particularly successful in the past. Sometimes there was little response to the raids -- and on one occasion, Hipper’s battlecruisers were, themselves, ambushed and nearly destroyed. But more often than not, the German ambushes failed because the Flottenchef “got the wind up”. The battle squadrons of the Hochseeflotte had been hastily withdrawn before the trap could be properly sprung -- on the mere suspicion the Grand Fleet might suddenly appear. The German fleet commanders were not afraid to engage the enemy, but they were keenly aware an encounter with the bulk of the Grand Fleet could have serious consequences. The loss of even a single German capital ship would only make the disparity in numbers worse. And being outnumbered by the British, nearly two to one, could be catastrophic. A single British dreadnought could fire 100 rounds in a brief, five-minute skirmish. Imagine what could happen if only twenty British ships opened fire. This specter haunted German fleet commanders. Always heavily outnumbered, any one of the Flottenchef could have recklessly destroyed the effectiveness of the Hochseeflotte in a single battle gone badly wrong. The German fleet could have been reduced to a mere harbor guard force – and relieved the Royal Navy of the threat of “the fleet in being”. On a very personal level – no admiral wanted the condemnation of his fellow officers that such a mistake would entail. And the Kaiser had made it quite clear he did not want his battle fleet damaged – so there was always that to be considered. Nevertheless, Admiral Scheer was determined to take the war to the British. He intended to launch frequent raids against British coastal towns and support them with the battle fleet lying in ambush. He increased picket forces in Schillig Roads with the intention of launching attacks on British light forces scouting the German Bight. Scheer wanted increased minelaying operations in the Bight and around the British naval bases, and planned to station submarines off the English harbors in ambush. All of this with the goal of attaining some sort of parity with the Grand Fleet so a fleet engagement might be forced on more favorable terms. When the Admiralstab (German Admiralty) was forced to halt unrestricted submarine warfare in April 1916, Scheer was presented with a golden opportunity. The Flottenchef suddenly found himself with a large number of submarines to deploy offshore of British naval bases. But the British were wary of submarines after nearly two years of war, and mostly kept their capital ships at their moorings rather than swanning about in the submarine infested waters of the North Sea. Scheer would still have to come up with a plan to entice the British warships into his submarine ambush zones. GERMAN PLANNING The Hochseeflotte at their moorings in Wilhelmshaven – circa 1916. The large warship on the left is one of the modern Konig Class dreadnought battleships of the III Battle Squadron. Commissioned August 1914 – 25,796 tons – 21 knots – 10x12-inch guns – 14x5.9-inch guns – 5x20-inch torpedo tubes – belt armor 13.8 inches. The battlecruiser Seydlitz had suffered mine damage during the Lowestoft Raid, and while waiting for repairs to complete, Scheer worked out a rather complicated plan. The operation was to include minelaying, submarines, air reconnaissance by Zeppelins, and an ambush operation with the Hochseeflotte. A bombardment raid against the British coastal town of Sunderland was the centerpiece of the mission. This was the most elaborate “ambush” yet planned, and the whole affair was scheduled for 17 May. Unfortunately, in early May, condenser problems surfaced in the battleships of the III Battle Squadron and the operation had to be pushed back to 23 May. THE SUBMARINES Here you see a number of Kaiserliche Marine U-Boats “nested” against a long pier within the naval base at Kiel – but this scene could just as well have been Wilhelmshaven. More submarines were employed in the North Sea than in the Baltic, but the scene would have been virtually the same. On the left side of the pier you see an older, dark-hulled warship from the 1880’s -- “retired” and converted to a repair and maintenance tender. The lighter-toned ship with the gangplank extended is another submarine tender – this one to provide crew berths while the submarines are in port. No sense living in a cramped submarine when you can have a bunk in a “floating hotel”. Ten submarines were dispatched during the first week in May. They were to take up assigned patrol stations in the central North Sea between 17 and 22 May, after which, they would move to allotted ambush positions. Two of the boats, U-43 and U-44, were assigned to the Pentland Firth, a particularly treacherous stretch of water between Scotland and the Orkney Islands – the entrance to the Grand Fleet base at Scapa Flow. The currents could run as fast as 30 knots and were difficult for submarines – but if the Grand Fleet sortied, they would have to pass the submarines. The remainder of the U-boats were positioned around the Firth of Forth to catch the British Battlecruiser Fleet when it departed its base at Rosyth. Each boat had its own patrol area, allowing free movement to prevent detection, but they were under strict orders to avoid being sighted for fear of giving away the operation prematurely. It was arranged for the submarines to receive a coded transmission signaling the start of the operation, when enemy units might be expected to exit their bases. An additional 11 submarines were allocated associated tasks. UB-27 was ordered out with instructions to work past May Island and into the Firth of Forth, while U-47 was sent to patrol offshore of Sunderland prior to the bombardment. On 13 May, U-72 was detailed to lay mines in the Firth of Forth, and on 23 May, U-74 departed to lay mines in the Moray Firth. Moray Firth connected the North Sea to Cromarty Firth, which was the base of the Grand Fleet’s 2nd Battle Squadron. On 24 May, U-75 sailed to lay minefields west of the Orkney Islands, while UB-21 and UB-22 were sent to patrol the Humber River mouth, in the mistaken belief warships were based there. And finally, U-22, U-46, and U-67 were positioned north of Terschelling to act as an ambush screen should the “Harwich Force” attempt to intervene. At first glance, it would appear the submarine deployment had covered all the enemy bases – but events would show otherwise. As all military plans do, this one began to unravel -- as soon as the submarines put to sea. SMS Seydlitz was returned to duty on 21 May, and within hours it was determined she still had serious leaks that had not been fixed. Scheer, to his credit, was unwilling to risk the battlecruiser squadron in an under-strength condition. Seydlitz was returned to the dockyard and the “Sunderland Operation” was pushed back to 29 May. Meanwhile, the submarines had moved to their ambush stations and were experiencing their own difficulties. The English coast was often shrouded in fog – seriously limiting their visibility. The sea conditions were either so calm the slightest ripple from a periscope gave away their position, or, the sea was so rough the submarines were unable to maintain periscope depth without exposing the conning tower. For a variety of reasons, British patrols became aware of an unusual level of submarine activity, and increased their anti-submarine patrols. UB-27 cleared Bell Rock on its way into the Firth of Forth, then suffered engine trouble. After making repairs, the U-boat followed several merchant vessels into Largo Bay, where one of her propellers got tangled in a submarine net, forcing UB-27 to abort the mission and return to base. U-74 was detected by four armed trawlers on 27 May and went down 25 miles southeast of Peterhead. U-72 had to abort her minelaying mission when it was found she was leaving a trail of leaking fuel oil. U-75 succeeded in laying her minefields west of the Orkney Islands, and though they played no part in the Battle Of Jutland, they did claim a significant victim. On 5 June 1916, the British Secretary Of State for War, Field Marshal Lord Kitchener, 1st Earl Kitchener of Khartoum, boarded the armored cruiser HMS Hampshire and sailed for the Russian port of Arkhangelsk -- on a diplomatic mission to the Romanov Court. Around 19:30, in the teeth of a Force 9 gale, Hampshire struck one of U-75’s mines and went down in 18 minutes. The official losses are stated as 737 men, with 12 survivors. Lord Kitchener was last seen on the quarter deck – his body was never recovered. This could very well be one of the U-Boats on patrol in the Pentland Firth. The waters of the North Atlantic and the North Sea met in the firth and set up shifting cross-currents and miserable conditions for the small submarines of that era. Gales were common and rough seas were considered “normal” weather. Fog and haze regularly limited visibility, and the huge rolling breakers often obscured what could be seen from the conning tower of a low-lying submarine. THE ZEPPELINS This is the dreadnought battleship SMS Thuringen at anchor in the Jade Estuary with one of the Imperial airships passing overhead – circa 1913. By 1916, the Imperial Naval Air Service operated a fleet of large airships built by Luftschiffbau Zeppelin -- often referred to by the general term “Zeppelins”. Several airships were operated in the Baltic Sea, but some 15 large airships were based out of Tondern and Cuxhaven for operations in the North Sea. They were commonly used for bombing raids – mostly against English naval bases – and even targeted the occasional ship they came across. But they are usually linked to the more infamous business of bombing English cities in the later stages of the war. (Imperial Army airships carried out the majority of those raids, while the naval airships performed only 50 bombing raids -- but over 1,000 reconnaissance missions.) Their chief duty, as far as the Kaiserliche Marine was concerned – and their first priority -- was air reconnaissance over the North Sea, and especially the German Bight. The airships were much better suited to long flights over areas where it was not safe to risk weak scouting forces, and unwise to send small groups of capital ships. The airships were capable of spotting units of the Royal Navy at great distances and giving the Hochseeflotte sufficient advance warning and details of enemy strength. The Flottenchef could then decide to engage or retire, based on his strategic goals and tactical situation. It was decidedly better than groups of opposing cruisers blundering about in the mist-shrouded North Sea – when it worked. The “down side” to Zeppelins was that they were entirely at the mercy of the wind and weather. Airships could easily be destroyed by high winds, and a heavy rain could actually add weight to the outer skin – slowing their speed, reducing their altitude, and increasing fuel consumption. At higher altitudes, “icing” could cause serious problems and, much like sailing ships, going against the wind was difficult. If the wind was strong, or came from the wrong direction, the Zeppelins remained grounded. Scheer’s planned Sunderland Operation intended to deploy two Zeppelins to bomb the town immediately before the bombardment. With their bombs gone, the airships were to spread out offshore and search north along the English coast. Other Zeppelins would search farther north for Beatty’s Battlecruiser Fleet and the Grand Fleet, while one more would keep an eye on the Harwich Force. Unfortunately, once the submarines were in position, the wind refused to cooperate. By 28 May, a strong north-easterly wind continued to blow, and the airships could not be deployed, so the raid was postponed, yet again. Now the submarines became a problem, because they could only remain on station until 1 June. After that, with onboard supplies exhausted, they would have to return to port. On the afternoon of the 28th, orders went out from Scheer to cancel the Sunderland Operation and an alternate plan was substituted. The new plan had the same basic objective; to lure a part of the Grand Fleet into an ambush, thereby making use of the submarines before their time ran out. The plan involved taking the Hochseeflotte north and sending the battlecruiser squadron into the Skagerrak to interdict merchant shipping between Scandinavia and Britain. Raw materials vital to the British war effort were shipped via the Skagerrak in regularly scheduled convoys. A raid by Hipper’s 1st Scouting Group could easily destroy escorting British cruisers and seriously disrupt trade for a number of weeks, if not months. Once Hipper’s presence in the Skagerrak was known, the Royal Navy would respond, and Beatty’s fast battlecruisers would arrive first. It would be Hipper’s task to lure Beatty onto the guns of the waiting battle squadrons of the Hochseeflotte. Scheer felt this operation would be safer -- closer to German ports -- and airship reconnaissance could be dispensed with in favor of scouting forces. The Hochseeflotte assembled in Schillig Roads on the 28th, and was ordered to raise steam and be ready for action by midnight. At 14:00 on 30 May, the wind was still too strong for Zeppelins, so the final decision was made to use the alternative plan. It was the biggest operation yet undertaken by the Hochseeflotte, and though farther away from British naval bases, it was not without considerable risk. Nevertheless, the coded signal "31 May G.G.2490" was transmitted to the fleet, ordering the Skagerrak operation for 31 May. The pre-arranged signal to the submarines was transmitted throughout the day from the E-Dienst radio station at Bruges, and the U-boat tender Arcona anchored at Emden. Only two submarines, U-66 and U-32, ever received the signal. BRITISH RESPONSE The 1st Battlecruiser Squadron lying at anchor off Rosyth in the Firth of Forth. The famous “Forth Bridge” is in the background. The dockyards of Rosyth are on the other side of the bridge. When the big ships had to pass under the bridge to get to them, the topmasts had to be lowered to avoid crashing into the structure. Right to left – HMS Lion, HMS Princess Royal, and HMS Indefatigable – circa 1915. As mentioned in previous chapters, the British had broken the German naval codes early in the war. The code-breaking unit in “Room 40” of the Admiralty building carried out direction finding, interception, and decryption of German naval signals. Though they could not decipher all signals, and some took longer than others to decode, the staff was keenly aware that any sudden increase in signal traffic from the German flagship (SMS Freidrich der Grosse) indicated an operation was in the offing. Around 22 May 1916, Room 40 began picking up heightened levels of wireless traffic, followed by an intercepted signal on 28 May providing "ample evidence the German fleet was stirring in the North Sea". As further signals were intercepted, some decoded and some not, it became abundantly clear a major operation was likely. At 11:00 on 30 May, Admiral John Jellicoe (commander Grand Fleet) was warned the German fleet was preparing to sail the following morning. By 17:00, Room 40 had intercepted and deciphered the special signal from Scheer to the U-boats -- "31 May G.G.2490" – and that sealed the deal. Action was imminent. With no knowledge of actual German plans, Jellicoe and his staff decided on a response every bit as large as Scheer’s intended ambush. The combined elements of the Grand Fleet would be positioned in a central location – roughly 100 miles west by south of Lindesnes, Norway. This would place the Grand Fleet in a position to cut the Germans off from the North Atlantic shipping lanes, as well as denying them access to the Skagerrak, thereby protecting the Scandinavian shipping routes and denying the German fleet an avenue of retreat. Once the fleet had rendezvoused, the British would either spring the trap, or sweep down the coast of Denmark in search of their prey. THE DIE IS CAST The 1st Division of Jerram’s 2nd Battle Squadron putting to sea from Cromarty Firth. HMS King George V leads the line, followed by Ajax, Centurion, and Erin – 30 May 1916. With steam up, and the crews closed-up at sailing stations, junior officers throughout the fleet stood stiffly on the bridge wings as bands of rain blew in from the northwest. It was not a cold rain, but the darkness all around made it no less miserable. At 23:30 on May 30, the signal lamps flashed and the moored ships cast off from their buoys. Jellicoe was putting to sea early enough to ensure he arrived at the likely point of interception before the Germans. Mist and funnel smoke hung low over the sea as the 16 dreadnought battleships of the 1st and 4th Battle Squadrons, and the 3 battlecruisers of the 3rd Battlecruiser Squadron, steam out of Scapa Flow. Once clear of Hoxa Sound, the warships increased to 14 knots and set course to the ESE. They would shortly link-up with the 8 battleships of Vice-Admiral Martyn Jerram’s 2nd Battle Squadron coming out of Cromarty Firth. Admiral Beatty’s 6 battlecruisers of the 1st and 2nd Battlecruiser Squadrons, and the 4 fast battleships of Rear-Admiral Hugh Evan-Thomas’ 5th Battle Squadron, weighed anchor and sortied from the Firth of Forth at about the same time. It was Jellicoe’s intention to rendezvous with Beatty’s ships off the mouth of the Skagerrak, near the Jutland coast of Denmark. The first three ships are battlecruisers of the 1st Scouting Group, leading the Hochseeflotte out of the Jade Estuary. The date and occasion are unknown. Lutzow and Derfflinger are leading the line, and the picture was likely taken from Derfflinger’s fantail. Following are Seydlitz, Moltke, and Von der Tann. It can be seen they are altering course to steam out ahead of the battle line. Notice the mist and haze has obscured the low coastline, and the waters of the estuary are smooth as glass. Around 02:00 on 31 May 1916, Admiral Hipper’s raiding force cleared Schillig Roads. The light cruisers and torpedo boats of the 2nd Scouting Group swept down the Jade’s deep-water channel at 14 knots, closely followed by the big battlecruisers. Once clear of the estuary, a half-flotilla of torpedo boats would drop back to screen the seaward flank of the big ships. The light cruisers, their funnels spouting clouds of smoke, strained their engines to reach ahead, where they would take up their advance scouting positions. As the Panzerkreuzer nosed into the rolling swell of the Bight, speed was increased to 18 knots and the squadron steered northwest, then north, skirting the west shore of Heligoland Island via a cleared channel through the minefields. The Hochseeflotte is seen on maneuvers, possibly early in the war. The eight battleships of the III Battle Squadron are leading the line, followed by the I Battle Squadron. The photo was taken from the fantail of a Helgoland Class dreadnought. Note the choppy seas and the funnel smoke drifting to leeward. Admirals had to be careful not to let their own funnel smoke mask the view of the fire control rangefinders. An hour and a half later, Admiral Scheer ordered the Hochseeflotte’s main body to weight anchor and proceed to sea. The advance screen of light cruisers and torpedo boats went first, followed by the sixteen lumbering dreadnought battleships of the I and III Battle Squadrons. They, too, steered northwest from the Jade and would rendezvous around 04:00 with the six pre-dreadnought battleships of II Battle Squadron, coming out of Cuxhaven, on the Elbe River. Historians have given Scheer more than his share of criticism for bringing the II Battle Squadron to Jutland. The first of the old battleships, SMS Deutschland, was commissioned in 1906 – and the last, SMS Schlesien, in 1908. The class displaced only 13,000 tons – half the tonnage of HMS Iron Duke. They were armed with four 11 inch guns – half the broadside of SMS Von der Tann. And their triple expansion engines were rated at only 18 knots. This alone, would impose a serious limitation on the Hochseeflotte’s ability to maneuver. Their liabilities were no secret. Their own crews dubbed them “the five-minute ships” – for they were unlikely to last longer against the powerful British dreadnoughts. During the early planning stages, it had been intended to leave II Battle Squadron behind, as a guard force for the German Bight. And in later years, in his memoirs, Scheer claimed he only agreed to take them at the last moment because Konterdmiral Franz Mauve (flag-officer, commanding II Battle Squadron) had argued passionately to sail with the fleet. Mauve insisted his ships were battle-ready -- and it would be an insult to his ships, his men, and himself, to be left behind when their comrades were sailing against the English. Several historians have actually suggested Scheer may have intended to sacrifice the old ships if things went badly – allowing the modern dreadnoughts to escape, while II Battle Squadron was being shot to pieces. But there is no evidence – then or now -- to support such a notion. The decision to take Mauve’s ships to sea did more credit to Scheer as a man than as an admiral. Scheer had no wish to break the spirit of such brave men – especially in a squadron he, himself, had once commanded. The pre-dreadnought battleships of the II Battle Squadron very early in the war. Not long after hostilities commenced, two of the older Braunschweig Class ships were retired. Note the high volume of funnel smoke produced by the older ships. This would be visible to an enemy many miles away. Forty miles north of Scheer, Hipper’s flag flew at the forepeak of SMS Lutzow, and the Admiral stood on the weather side of the bridge, drinking coffee, and watching the rain and mist mixing with the funnel smoke. With any luck, the weather would clear around 05:00 – daybreak – and he’d have good visibility for convoy-hunting. They might even catch a few British cruisers…… The stage has now been set, and “the play” is about to begin. But first – we should know a bit more about the “players”…… NEXT TIME…… THOSE WHO LEAD BUT – we are not quite finished. Since I could find no way to include game-related pictures on this particular subject matter, we will take another small tour of the Cuxhaven map tile. Below is a shot of the western portion of the Cuxhaven naval establishment (fictional geography, of course). And on the left side, you have an overview of the West Loch anchorage. You have already seen some portions of the lower loch area, but we will focus on the upper portion. I included this “overview” to provide some sort of geographic context. The West Loch was originally intended as an anchorage for the Scouting forces of the Hochseeflotte. As the years passed and the ships became more numerous, the loch became a bit crowded. With the introduction of dreadnought warships in the early 1900’s, it quickly became apparent their larger size could not be accommodated in West Loch. A larger, and more modern facility was constructed on the north shoreline (visible at the top and right of the picture. The new “main anchorage” was much expanded in size, with longer docks and piers to accommodate larger ships, expanded coaling and fuel oil replenishment, and ( for the first time) a dry dock was constructed for the larger cruisers. For our purposes, West Loch was designed to berth the “evolutionary” cruisers of the Kaiserliche Marine -- from the post-ironclad era (late 1880’s), through the armored cruiser period, and including the introduction of dreadnought battlecruisers. This is a view of the northeast corner of West Loch. At the right, you can see the large quay where ship’s stores and various pieces of equipment can be taken aboard. Minor repairs and maintenance can also be accomplished at this quay. (Coaling, ammunition replenishment, or extensive repair jobs, must be handled in the “Main Anchorage” or at the dockyard facilities in Wilhelmshaven.) Directly behind the quays are the warehouses serving them, and across the tracks are more warehouses, work shops, and machine shops. Even small repairs to engines and other machinery often require parts to be cast, machined, and made to order. To the left of the industrial zone is a rail siding where locomotives and rail cars can wait until unloaded, or hauled away if empty. Below that is a tugboat station with a small mooring area for lighters. The quays are modified “battleship docks” from the “PEG SNM Series” of naval lots. “WMP” Seawalls have been added to the piers to make them appear more “turn-of-the-Century”. The “100 ton cranes” on the quay are by “AP”. The long warehouses were borrowed from the “PEG” Seaport lots. The trackside cranes are from the “PEG SNM Dry Dock” lot, and the steam locomotives are “PEG”. Some of the features are “custom re-lotted” in various sizes, while much of the area was put together with 1x1 “custom-made filler lots” of various types. Many of the hundreds of props used to “dress-out” these lots were selected at random from “Lot EDITOR” and are likely available to members on the “STEX” (If they have any interest in industrial zones in their cities). This “detail shot” shows two Emden Class light cruisers “nested” along the quay. They are taking aboard ship’s stores on the odd chance they may be ordered to the Far East on short notice. If ordered to the China Station, they will be moved to the Replenishment Piers to take on fresh provisions. These gorgeous models were provided courtesy of Barroco Hispano. This is one of the two tugboat stations in West Loch. The tug dispatch tower is borrowed from the small Maxis airport. The tug piers are re-purposed from the “Somy Japanese Tug” lot. The Quonset Hut is from the “PEG SNM Series”. The water tower (for fire-fighting) was re-purposed from the Maxis Movie Studio “reward” lot. The roads are Paeng’s Grunge Concrete, and concrete textured lots were “custom-made” as 1x1 filler lots with various activity in progress. Another view of the tug station. This is a “detail shot” of the tugboat models. The white steam tugs were provided by “WolfZe”, and are similar to small harbor tugs of the 1920’s to 1940’s in such places as New York and Philadelphia. The rest of the tugs are the excellent modeling work of “AP”. Left to right is a Midgard Class, a Thor Class, the larger Passat Class, and two Odin Class tugs nested against the seawall. Rather than make them all look alike, we researched dozens and dozens of photos to select individual tugs with the proper “look” and “feel” for their duties and the period. This angle gives you a detailed look at the profiles of the tugs. “AP” put a lot of work into these little beauties. A great deal of detail and custom texturing has been worked into them. These little boats have a very “authentic” look to them – neat and “ship-shape” – but “worn” and “lived-in” as well. Historical accuracy is a good thing – but realism is just as important. At the bottom of the picture you can see a formation of sailors, with other sailors working with Atlantic fenders. The sailors, officers, Atlantic Fenders, and rope coils are all by “AP”. This is a small mooring basin adjacent to the tug station. If room is available, you can park the odd tug, or squeeze in just one more lighter while someone figures out what to do with it. A Sophia Class steam paddle tug stands by while the small boat crews hook up a tow line to the lighter with the red barrels. The Sophia is a diagonal model – part of our goal to increase the number of diagonal models in the game. The large lighter on the left carries powder charges, while the one next to it is carrying ammunition for 5.9-inch cruiser guns. Several of the cruisers in the West Loch may be ordered abroad and will fill their magazines before departure. This view shows the excellent detail on the Sophia Class paddle tug. Coal-fired, steam paddle tugs were common all over the world from the Victorian Era well into the 1950’s. The lighters are moored to wooden structures known as “mooring dolphins”. These are quite common, to this day, in harbors all over Europe (Hamburg, etc) – and in many places along navigable rivers (the Rhine and Main). If you want to see highly detailed, authentic models – just look at “AP’s” lighters and cargo. He has taken a simple barge and turned each one into a world of its own. I have counted 11 separate details on just one of the barges – any of which could have been made quicker and easier by not including them. Just look at the stacked bags in the small lighters – or the odd planks and boxes carelessly left in the large lighter – or the different textures in the bottom planks of the empty one. Marvelous detail, and very imaginative. And this is a close-up of the rail siding. The buildings are re-lotted from SFBT models. The siding with the steam locomotives was re-lotted from “NBVC” oil filling lots and the locomotives, again are “PEG”, modified to have “steam”. One of the boxcar sidings is re-lotted from an NBVC track with assorted cars – the other is a slightly modified triple-siding from “Simmer2”. Note the landscaping around the siding. Heavily wooded slopes on the right, the retaining wall in the center, and the sandy slopes and small hills on the left. All of it has been “painted” with MMP work, while the heavily wooded areas are a combination of custom-made 1x1 tree-filler lots, and MMP work to blend it all together. Very tedious work – but quite realistic. MANY THANKS to @Barroco Hispano for his beautiful warship models. SPECIAL THANKS to my friend and partner, @AP, for his talents, colorful imagination, and extreme dedication. If you enjoyed anything – please punch the “like” button so WE will know. A comment would be even more informative. Comments and critiques requested and gratefully accepted. All questions answered promptly to the best of our ability. THANK YOU for your visit! You may wish to visit these CJ’s as well…… SERIES I: IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: WILHELMSHAVEN https://community.simtropolis.com/journals/journal/5910-imperial-dockyards-wilhelmshaven/ SERIES II: IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: CUXHAVEN Appearing – Work In Publication SERIES III: IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: BREMERHAVEN Appearing -- ??? And please feel free to drop in at… THE SIMTROPOLIS SHIPYARD https://community.simtropolis.com/forums/topic/761469-simtropolis-shipyard/?tab=comments#comment-1766496

SMS Derfflinger as she appeared when she came out of the repair docks – after the Battle of Jutland in 1916. The veteran battlecruiser underwent a refit and modernization at the same time the battle damage was repaired. The first thing to go was the anti-torpedo net system – they proved useless against modern torpedoes and were a liability in battle. The forward pole mast has been replaced with the distinctive heavy tripod mast and large fire control foretop -- setting her apart from her sister ships. Oddly enough, fewer pictures survive of Derfflinger with her pole mast – most photos show her with the tripod mast – which gave her a legendary profile. IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: CUXHAVEN By: Dreadnought & AP Chapter 24: CHILD OF STRIFE THE DERFFLINGER CLASS SMS Derfflinger in the Fitting-Out Basin at Blohm & Voss Shipyard, Hamburg. The basic elements of the superstructure have already been built, and “A” and “D” turrets have been installed. Notice that her heavy armor belt plate has not been installed and her stem is actually riding high out of the water. The Blohm & Voss floating dock is to the left of the picture. After a somewhat inauspicious start at her launching ceremony, on 12 July 1913, the Blohm & Voss tugs finally worked Derfflinger into the Fitting-Out Basin, and the complicated process was begun. The last connections, ducts, and pipes for the boilers and turbines were installed and the machinery spaces plated over. From the “flush” weather deck up, the superstructure had to be assembled and riveted together – much like building a house – only with half-inch thick steel plates. Each level had to be built up – one deck at a time – installing bulkheads, ventilator shafts, various auxiliary engines and pumps, plumbing and lighting – before it could be plated over to begin the next level. Holes had to be left to fit the armored funnel uptakes from the boilers, and the funnels, themselves. Eventually, the steel structure amidships would rise to a sufficient height and the new battlecruiser’s heavy gun houses would be assembled atop their barbettes so the big rifles could be hoisted into their gun cradles. And, at some point, she would have to be moved into the floating dock so her armor belt could be bolted into place. The work moved along well enough, and was nearing completion when, on 28 June 1914, an assassin’s bullet passed through the neck of Archduke Franz Ferdinand of Austria-Hungary. Within a matter of hours, the well organized world of the Blohm & Voss Shipyard went into over-drive. The news of the assassination left little doubt that war in Europe had become a very real possibility. SMS Derfflinger would need to join the Hochseeflotte as soon as possible. A reinforced work crew swarmed over the new battlecruiser and temporary lighting was strung along the docks and the warship’s decks so work could continue around the clock. Structures that would have taken a week to build were finished in three days. Teams went throughout the ship inspecting the progress and “finishing” the compartments -- cleaning and painting, and furnishing them with the necessities. Even the anti-torpedo net system, usually installed at Wilhelmshaven after trials, was shipped to Hamburg and installed by the dockyard workers. In a matter of three weeks, the tugs eased Derfflinger out of the basin and moved her to the coaling docks. The battlecruiser took on only 800 tons of coal. The trials – due to wartime conditions – were to be carried out in the Baltic, and the battlecruiser would have to transit the Kaiser Wilhelm I canal. The widening of the canal had just finished, and some of the dredging was still to be done, so capital ships were required to make the trip with a reduced draft to avoid grounding. The Oberkommando der Marine officially issued a directive on 1 August, accelerating the completion of Derfflinger, making her readiness for sea a high priority. (This was a notable exception to their usual tardiness in responding to emergency situations.) A crew was assembled from sailors recently rotated back to Germany from Tsingtao. (Part of an established system to rotate personnel in and out of the East Asiatic Squadron.) The battlecruiser would receive a trained crew made up of experienced, veteran, seamen that had served aboard SMS Scharnhorst and Gneisenau. They were steady and dependable, physically fit, comfortable with shipboard life and discipline, and knew their way around the guns and machinery of a warship. Within hours of stepping off the trains from Wilhelmshaven, newly assigned officers had classified the men according to skills, assigned them to a “watch bill”, and given them a hammock berth. The commissioning commander, Kapitan zur See Ludwig von Reuter, was granted permission to commission the ship ahead of schedule so the pre-trials and acceptance tests could begin immediately. The morning of 19 August, the new cruiser was shifted to the replenishment docks and provisions and ship’s stores were taken aboard (both from the dock, and lighters alongside to speed the process). The following day, Derfflinger was shifted to the munitions pier in Hamburg and a combat load of shells and powder was brought aboard and stowed in the magazines and shell rooms. On 1 September 1914, at high noon, Kapitan von Reuter had the commissioning pennant hoisted at the fore-peak and SMS Derfflinger officially joined the Kaiserliche Marine. The big battlecruiser would never know the peacetime frivolities of “port calls”, state visits, or yachting regattas. Commissioned just a month after hostilities commenced, she was “a child of strife” – born into a war and destined to die in the uneasy truce that followed. SMS Derfflinger with her crew and dockyard workers aboard as she prepares to get underway for trials. You can see the building gantry of the Imperial Dockyards, Kiel, in the background as she waits in the channel for tugs to assist. This is one of the rare photos showing the forward pole mast. SEA TRIALS Just after midnight on 2 September, Derfflinger put to sea from Hamburg, made the transit of the Kaiser Wilhelm I canal, and made fast to buoy A-8 in the Kieler Hafen around 16:00. Pre-trials and acceptance of the ship’s hull, engines, auxiliary machinery, and weapons were begun the next day. Instead of the long ritual of peacetime trials, the pre-trials would be made jointly by the yard officials, builders, and mechanics – as well as the ship’s crew. This move would significantly reduce the trials period – at least, that was the plan. However, on 4 September the battlecruiser was maneuvering east of the Kieler Hafen when a shudder was felt in the ship and the port low-pressure turbine began to make noise. But the trials continued – combat training, compass calibration, transferring torpedoes, boat handling, and munitions handling for the 12-inch guns. On 11 September Derfflinger, running on the starboard engines and assisted by two salvage tugs, entered the Imperial Dockyard for repairs. The housing on the port low-pressure turbine was lifted off, the blades of the third, fourth, and fifth stages were replaced, and the housing closed again – the work taking five weeks. Here we see SMS Derfflinger in the repair basin at Kiel dockyard. In this case a dry dock has been used, but it was not drained in the interest of speeding up the work. The procedure involved lifting off the upper casing of the port low-pressure turbine so the interior works could be examined and repairs performed. All this could be accomplished within the confines of the engine room (that compartment is several decks in height) and did not require removal of any overhead deck plating. Within the picture, you see a wide variety of props and models, many of which have been discussed before. The vast majority of props are already in the game and have either been re-lotted, or re-purposed for use in the Imperial Dockyard Series. This is another shot of the repair basin providing a better view of the quayside activity and a nice broadside view of the battlecruiser. It should be noted Derfflinger is shown in her 1914 configuration with the pole mast forward. On 9 October gunnery practice was carried out, and the following day Grossadmiral Prince Heinrich (the Kaiser’s brother) visited the ship. But during maneuvers on 15 October, damage occurred to the starboard low-pressure turbine – and this time there was a significant vibration when going from “ahead” to “astern”. It was determined that switching from forward to reverse set up a vibration creating a resonance in the blades of the third, fourth, and fifth stages – causing them to strike the guide vanes in between – thereby resulting in “turbine salad” (mangled blades). Repairs to the starboard low-pressure turbine were undertaken, while the port low-pressure turbine was also opened up and corrections made to prevent future damage. The repairs were finished by 9 November and the trials were carried on – wrapping-up on 13 November. The Trials Report was, for the most part, satisfactory – the turbine issues notwithstanding. The Blohm & Voss team had been on hand, quickly diagnosed the problem, and preformed the necessary work to ensure there would be no further difficulties. The ship met all the contract specifications, and the hull, engines, and boilers were all in good condition when the ship was officially handed over. Derfflinger maneuvered exceptionally well at high speed, though (as expected) her low-speed handling was barely adequate. And, as with most big ships, her performance in shallow water effected both her speed and handling. The provision and stores rooms were of sufficient size – though the positioning of the meat locker above a fuel oil cell was criticized and had to be relocated. Overall ventilation was considered more than adequate, though the lack of any wooden furniture (a wartime fire risk) was considered a bit harsh. Strangely enough, the view forward from the conning tower was obstructed by “B” turret, making it impossible for the helmsman to see the bow. The quick-fix was to erect a fourteen foot “steering guide” (jackstaff) at the tip of the stem (much like a tall flagstaff). The bridge also suffered from being too low, and without a clear, all-around, view of the horizon. (One would think the designers could have been more careful.) The machinery preformed well above specifications. Designed for 63,000shp and a speed of 25.5 knots, Derfflinger achieved 76,634shp and 26.5 knots on trials. During operational service, the Panzerkreuzer would attain 28.5 knots when pushed. Her coal consumption was well below estimates and she was calculated to have an operating radius of 5,400 miles at 14 knots. The boiler plant preformed exceptionally well, and it was found only half the turbo fans were required to provide forced-draught to the boilers. The electrical system, over all, preformed well – though the newly designed diesel-powered dynamos required a few adjustments. Gunnery exercises went smoothly, as was to be expected from an experienced and well-trained crew. Handling procedures for the powder and shells were followed to the letter, and the newly designed “1913 Model” gun houses functioned flawlessly. The big 12-inch rifles performed without incident and the new mechanical rammers made shell handling much easier. OPERATIONAL HISTORY At 01:00 on 14 November, SMS Derfflinger weighed anchor and steamed out of the Kieler Hafen bound for Wilhelmshaven via the Kaiser Wilhelm I canal. After a day’s lay-over at the docks in Brunsbuttelkoog to take on provisions, the new battlecruiser dropped anchor in Schillig Roads on 16 November. Two days later, Konteradmiral Hipper (Commander Scouting Forces, Hochseeflotte) came aboard to inspect the ship and was invited to stay for luncheon with the ship’s officers. On 19 November 1914, Derfflinger received orders to join the 1st Scouting Group and was assigned tactical number three (third slot in the battle line). Tactical exercises with the group followed on the 20th, 24th, and 25th, with the intent of integrating the new cruiser into the squadron. With the formalities out of the way, Derfflinger settled into the tedious routine of pulling picket duty in the Jade – and being on short notice for raising steam. At 04:00 on 15 December, SMS Derfflinger weighed and sortied with the battlecruiser squadron on the Scarborough, Hartlepool, and Whitby Raid. (See Chapter 12 for details.) During the course of the bombardment, the battlecruiser fired 203 shells from her 5.9-inch secondary batteries, and the ship was called on to maneuver at a sustained speed of 23 knots for an extended period of time. The following day, while returning to the Jade, the weather took a turn for the worse and the wind howled in from the northwest at Force 8, with a swell at strength 6. Kapitan von Reuter ordered the ship “battened-down” for heavy weather as the big cruiser plowed on through the rising seas at 23 knots on an easterly course. This was Derfflinger’s first test in deep water and heavy seas, and she proved herself an exceptionally seaworthy vessel. Von Reuter had ordered the upper roll-damping tanks filled and the ship’s movements appeared to be slower and less exaggerated than the other battlecruisers. But under combat conditions it was impossible to run “rolling tests”, so the validity of the tank’s performance was never certified. However, the sloshing of the water inside the tanks, and the noise of air rushing back and forth through the air channel, adversely effected the conditions in the nearby wireless transmission room. With the swell coming in on the port quarter of the battlecruiser, a good deal of water was taken over the fantail and even managed to force its way into the secured casemates of the port side secondary batteries – but though spray was thrown to unusual heights up forward, no breakers were taken over the newly designed bow. SMS Derfflinger’s next combat operation came on 23 January 1915, when she weighed and put to sea in the wee hours of the morning as the squadron’s “tactical #3” once again. The weather was reasonably fair and the night clear as they steamed northwest towards what would become the Battle Of Dogger Bank. (See Chapter 13 for details of the action.) Early on, British destroyers closed the tail of the German column around 09:42, and engaged SMS Blucher with gun fire. Admiral von Hipper ordered Blucher to return fire, and von Reuter, eager to get into the fight, sheered Derfflinger out of line to assist – but Hipper signaled her to fall back into column. Around 09:55 Derfflinger came under fire from unidentified ships off the port quarter and immediately responded with eight-gun salvos – switching to four-gun salvos once the target was straddled. The Panzerkreuzer remained engaged until hits were observed on the first two enemy ships, whereupon, they turned away. For twelve minutes around noon, two British destroyers were engaged and turned away under heavy fire from the 5.9-inch secondary batteries. Over the course of the smoke-shrouded “dogfight”, Derfflinger fired 234 12-inch armor-piercing shells, 76 12-inch high explosive shells, and 48 5.9-inch rounds. During the encounter, Derfflinger was struck only once by a 13.5 inch shell (probably from HMS Lion). The shell hit the waterline belt armor directly below the forward funnel, but failed to penetrate the 12-inch plate. Six other large caliber shells fell close alongside, mostly to starboard and port of the fantail. The base-fused shells exploded shortly after impacting the water, sending large shrapnel splinters in all directions. Some of the splinters tore through the lightly armored sections of the stern and caused some minor flooding. Around 19:40 on 24 January, Derfflinger dropped anchor in Schillig Roads and the following day ran into the Imperial Dockyard for repairs – including a stretch in the floating dock to see to the flooding aft. Repair reports indicate the large caliber hit on the belt armor failed to penetrate, but the plate was pushed in about 4 inches, with an indentation about one inch deep, and concentric rings about 6 feet across. The torpedo nets, spars, and brackets were badly damaged, and the outer hull skin below the hit was bowed-in for quite a large area. The starboard wing passage and several coal bunkers were flooded, and some water made it into the boiler room, but the pumps easily removed it. The near misses aft caused a leak in the starboard outer shaft tunnel and sheered or sprung various rivets, resulting in the initial flooding in that area. On 16 February, Derfflinger was pronounced “combat-ready”, and moved to the coaling docks, then took on fresh provisions, before running out to Schillig Roads to begin a long stretch of picket duty. The monotony was rudely interrupted on 11 March by a late-night explosion in the anchorage. The battlecruiser’s searchlights were switched on and it became apparent there had been a boiler explosion aboard the torpedo boat S-35. Derfflinger returned to the dockyard from 21-25 March to have supplemental oil-firing installed in her coal-fired boilers, and she participated in a “fleet advance” on 29-30 March, along with Von der Tann and Moltke. Four days in early April were occupied with training in the Baltic – torpedo shooting, searchlight practice, gunnery practice, night gunnery, battle line training, and acting as a target for torpedo boat training. On 17 April, Derfflinger sortied to cover a minelaying operation carried out by the light cruisers SMS Stralsund and Strassburg – and again in May when mines were laid near the Dogger Bank. In late May, the entire 1st Scouting Group put to sea to escort the auxiliary cruiser Meteor out to sea on a commerce raiding mission. In June 1915, SMS Derfflinger and Von der Tann went to Kiel for training, but Derfflinger was involved in a near-collision with the old pre-dreadnought SMS Kaiser Wilhelm der Grosse. (As previously mentioned, collisions between capital ships were a lot more common than you might think.) Due to her poor handling characteristics at low speed, the battlecruiser’s bow suddenly swung to port and came dangerously close to the anchored pre-dreadnought. A collision was narrowly averted, but von Reuter was forced to go “all astern – maximum power”. There was a heavy vibration throughout the ship, and then the starboard low-pressure turbine ceased to respond. Later, when the turbine housing was lifted, it was found the turbine blades and guide vanes had been shredded in the third, fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh stages. It was decided the sudden application of extreme reverse power had set up a fatal oscillation, resulting in turbine failure. The battlecruiser went into the Kiel dockyard for repairs lasting until 26 August. In the following sequence of pictures, we see SMS Derfflinger being maneuvered into the Inner Basin for another round of turbine repairs. Ahead are two salvage tugs towing the big battlecruiser with a third salvage tug on a stern hawser acting as a “brake”. Four harbor tugs (two Passat Class and two Nordwind Class) are stationed close to the bow and stern. Due to the battlecruiser’s known tendency to sheer to port or starboard at low speed -- especially in shallow water -- the four harbor tugs are an absolute necessity. The admiral commanding has private quarters ashore – the white house in the lower left. This is a close-up of the beautifully detailed model of Derfflinger provided courtesy of @Barroco Hispano – and the equally detailed models of the Passat Class tugs (off the bow) and the Nordwind Class tugs (off the stern) – scratch-built by @AP. This is a close-up view of the Langeoog Class salvage tug scratch-built by “AP” for the Imperial Dockyard Series. The model is based on the tug “Foundation Franklin” which was launched in 1918 from John Lewis & Sons Shipbuilding, in Aberdeen, Scotland, as HMS Frisky. She had an active and truly remarkable 30-year career – mostly performing deep sea salvage and legendary rescue missions out of Halifax, Nova Scotia. She was justly immortalized in Farley Mowat’s book “The Grey Seas Under” – which is well worth a good read. And there was many a pint downed in her name when “old-timers” gathered at a tavern. “FF” was about 600 tons and 150 feet in length, with triple-expansion engines generating 1,200shp for a respectable speed of 15 knots. In 1948, she went out in the teeth of an Atlantic hurricane to rescue a large freighter disabled by the storm. She saved the ship and the men aboard her, but was so badly damaged by the storm she was sold for scrap. “AP” has “done the old girl proud” with his detailed and handsome model. She was a truly “great” ship, and I consider this to be some of his finest work. (The model can be downloaded from the STEX – Historic Navies 1900: Volume 17.) Here are three views of SMS Derfflinger being maneuvered into the repair basin / dry dock. Before returning to Wilhelmshaven, Derfflinger carried out trials with a floatplane. The floatplane was maneuvered alongside, hoisted aboard the battlecruiser, and a test cruise taken off the Kieler Hafen. Though the idea of carrying aircraft aboard a warship might have been considered “progressive” in 1915, having to “launch” a plane much like a small boat proved problematic with big-gun ships. Even decades later, carrying float-planes on battleships was not popular with captains. The ship had to come to a complete stop to launch or recover the aircraft, and planes were prone to bursting into flame when hit by shell fragments – causing significant damage and possibly illuminating the ship during night engagements. (Navies would later develop steam operated catapults to launch floatplanes from battleships and heavy cruisers, but the ships still had to come to a complete stop to hoist them back aboard. And – the US Navy was plagued by burning floatplanes during night actions with the Imerpial Japanese Navy in WW II.) The big cruiser arrived back in Wilhelmshaven on 31 August, just in time for Kapitan von Reuter to turn over command to Kapitan zur See Paul Heinrich. The remainder of the year was spent in the usual tasks – picket duty, minelaying operations, maneuvers with Battleship Division 6, fleet maneuvers in October, and the occasional “fleet advance”. In late October Derfflinger and the torpedo boat V-30 carried out a successful ship-to-ship underway fuel oil transfer test. In early November there was a brief training period in the Baltic followed by picket duty in Schillig Roads. Again, in late November, the cruiser returned to Kiel for training, but was delayed when she grounded, hard and fast, near the “Kilometer 29” marker in the Kaiser Wilhelm I canal – largely as a result of her poor handling characteristics at slow speed in shallow waters. Once in Kiel, Derfflinger carried out training in torpedo firing, exercises with torpedo boat flotillas, and several days spent on the gunnery ranges. Having returned to the Jade in early December, the battlecruiser went into the dockyard on the 16th for the final work on her new director fire control system. The installation and “dry testing” of the system lasted until 15 January 1916, when the ship was moved out of the dock. Gunnery trials with the new equipment lasted from 19-26 January and were considered a great success. The year 1916 brought a new commander for the Hochseeflotte, Vizeadmiral Reinhard Scheer, and an increased level of activity. The new commander’s more aggressive attitude was aimed at bringing the enemy to battle – forcing a favorable situation -- rather than waiting for an opportunity. Early 1916 started out with Derfflinger and Von der Tann searching for the missing airship L-19 – a sortie in support of torpedo boat flotillas in action with British light forces in the western Bight – battle line practice – and escorting the auxiliary cruiser Mowe into Wilhelmshaven after a commerce raiding cruise. On 5 March, Derfflinger was with the 1st Scouring Group when the Hochseeflotte made an aggressive combat sweep into the “Hoofden” – an area along ”The Broad Fourteens” off western Holland. No enemy shipping or naval units were encountered by the latitude of Haarlem, so the fleet put about and returned to the Jade. The seaplane tender HMS Vindex – circa 1915: 2,950 tons – 23 knots – 4x3-inch guns – 7 floatplanes. Notice her appearance. She is nothing more than a floating hanger for floatplanes. The floatplanes are hoisted outboard and take off from the water. Upon their return, they taxi up to the ship, are hoisted aboard, and pushed into the hanger. Nothing like the aircraft carriers still 25 years in the future. On 25 March the British launched a raid from the seaplane-tender HMS Vindex against the German airship base in Tondern, but the raid was a complete fiasco. They did not know the correct location of the airship base and bombed Hoyer in error. German seaplanes from land bases attacked the British ships with bombs, and the Harwich Force destroyers HMS Laverock and Medusa collided in the confusion. Medusa was badly damaged and later abandoned. German torpedo boats on duty in the area sparred with the British forces and the light cruiser HMS Cleopatra rammed and sank G-194 – but was, in turn, rammed by HMS Undaunted. With the weather deteriorating, the British forces withdrew (with Cleopatra), but it took Undaunted four days to limp back to port. The Hochseeflotte put to sea in support on the 26th, but arrived in the area far too late to be of use. On 16 April 1916, Derfflinger and her newly commissioned sister-ship, SMS Lutzow, sortied on a search mission looking for a downed aircraft, but found nothing and returned to Schillig Roads without incident. A little over a week later (24 April), the 1st Scouting Group weighed anchor around 10:45 and slipped out of Schillig Roads, steamed down the Jade channel, and made for the open sea. In a matter of hours, Derfflinger would be in action on the Lowestoft Raid. (See Chapter 16 for details.) For most of May 1916, Derfflinger and portions of the 1st Scouting Group made several sorties into the North sea for various tasks – sightings of enemy forces in the Bight – a suspected second attack on the Tondern airfields – and generally making life hazardous for British light forces in the area. From 22-26 May the battlecruiser was in dockyard hands for scheduled maintenance and a bottom cleaning. The pre-dawn darkness of 31 May was hard and forbidding. The wind was coming in from the north-northwest at Force 3 and bands of rain scudded across the big warships anchored in long lines in Schillig Roads. It was 03:00, and the sailors on the big dreadnought battleships of the 1st and 3rd Battle Squadrons were closed-up at sailing stations. The officers on their various bridges had watched through the pelting rain and poor visibility as the 2nd Scouting Group steamed down the Jade channel and disappeared into the night haze on their way to open water. Minutes later all eyes watched – not a few with envy -- as SMS Lutzow, Derfflinger, Seydlitz, Moltke, and Von der Tann swept down the channel at 18 knots, close on the heels of their advance screen of light cruisers. Even in the darkness and haze, the long, low battlecruisers were mighty and menacing. Thick clouds of smoke belched from their funnels and hung close to the water as the bow waves and wakes sparkled bright and luminescent. The big gun turrets, so prominently displayed on their decks, clearly bespoke their purpose. Soon, they would clear the mouth of the Jade and steer north to bring those guns into action off a quiet little corner of Denmark – along the Jutland coast. SMS Derfflinger as she would appear in late 1916. Notice the massive, squat, size of the main battery gun turrets in relation to the rest of the ship. And here you see her with the distinctive, heavy, tripod foremast and the large fire control top that gave her an iconic silhouette. Not only was the Derfflinger Class the largest and most powerful of the Imperial battlecruisers – they were, quite possibly, the most elegant and handsome capital ships ever built. Again – I must leave the rest of SMS Derfflinger’s story for later…… SIDEBAR: Standard Tactical Deployment Of The Hochseeflotte Scouting Forces As Admiral Hipper’s scouting forces steered to the north that day, they were deployed in a standard tactical formation that had been developed over many years – both before and during the war. Lacking reliable air reconnaissance – and with radar still far in the future – the only reliable information about an enemy fleet had to be obtained by cruisers scouting ahead of the battle fleet. Admiral Hipper was in overall command of ALL scouting forces in the Hochseeflotte, while the various “scouting groups” were directly handled by subordinate admirals. Above you see the 1st and 2nd Scouting groups deployed in their “scouting” and “screening” formation. In the lead are the light cruisers and torpedo boats of the 2nd Scouting Group, spread out as a screening force across the bows of the Panzerkreuzer of 1st Scouting Group. The light cruiser screen, steaming in advance of the battlecruisers, acts as a scouting force to locate an enemy force for the battlecruisers to attack – or – they can screen the battlecruisers to prevent enemy cruisers from gaining knowledge of their approach. (NOTE: In all pictures the distance between the various groups, and individual ships, has been considerably reduced in order to get everything into the picture.) This is a closer shot of the advance screen composed of the 2nd Scouting Group commanded by Konteradmiral Boedicker. His force is deployed seven miles ahead of Hipper’s heavy units. There are five light cruisers, from left to right – SMS Elbing, Wiesbaden, Frankfurt (flag), Pillau, and Regensburg. Visibility before the battle began could be anywhere from 12 to 15 miles, and the five light cruiser groups would be “spread out” -- while maintaining visual contact with the next adjacent group. This arrangement would allow Boedicker’s cruisers to visually search an area about 57 miles wide. This is SMS Frankfurt, Boedicker’s flagship, deployed in the center of the search line – making it easier to control the cruiser groups on the extreme ends of the line. Each of the cruisers is screened by a gaggle of torpedo boats from the II and VI Flotillas. The standard flotilla consisted of a “Flotilla Leader” and ten torpedo boats. But wartime losses and repair work inevitably left them under strength. Another view of the Frankfurt group, below. This is a view of the cruiser group on the extreme right of the line. SMS Regensburg is the flagship of Kommodore Heinrich, Commander Torpedo Boat Flotillas. Admiral Hipper was in overall command of both scouting groups, but during battle it was understood he would be busy with other matters. Accordingly, Boedicker would be responsible for the direct command of the light cruisers in 2nd Scouting Group, while Kommodore Heinrich would maintain control of the torpedo boats. It might, at first, seem like a lot of senior officers looking for a job to do – but once battle was joined – it proved a successful division of authority. Below is another view of the Regensburg group. This is the Elbing group operating at the extreme western end of the light cruiser screen. As the light cruiser continues to search, the torpedo boats form an anti-submarine screen around her. (Again – the distance between the cruiser and her torpedo boats would be much greater than in this representation.) Submarines were still relatively unsophisticated weapons and screening destroyers or torpedo boats were usually sufficient to keep them at a distance – where their torpedoes were likely to miss the target. If smoke from an unknown vessel is sighted on the horizon, Elbing’s Fregattenkapitan Madlung would order two of his torpedo boats to peel out of formation and close to investigate the approaching stranger. If it was a steamer, it would most likely be a neutral, and she might be stopped to check her registry papers – then sent on her way. If she carried enemy cargo (contraband), she could either be boarded and sent into a German port – or possibly sunk after removing the crew. If the approaching vessel was a warship, she would almost certainly be British. A brief skirmish might ensue, or it could very well lead to a collision between opposing fleets. Light cruisers and torpedo boats were “little ships” – but they preformed vital scouting and screening functions that could have consequences all out of proportion to their size. Following seven miles astern of 2nd Scouting Group are the battlecruisers of 1st Scouting Group in “line ahead” formation under the direct command of Vizeadmiral Hipper. Leading the line (on the left) is SMS Lutzow (flag), followed by Derfflinger, Seydlitz, Moltke, and Von der Tann. Hipper did not feel the need for complicated or “fancy” sailing formations. He maintained tight control of his heavy ships and knew they were fast enough to preform any maneuver he might wish. In the event the light cruisers of the 2nd Scouting Group encountered a British force, Hipper would immediately alter course and bring the battlecruisers up in support. Screening his Panzerkreuzer ahead and on both flanks were the eleven torpedo boats of the IX Flotilla. This is a closer view of Lutzow and Derfflinger and the screening torpedo boats. You will note there are five torpedo boats clustered around Lutzow – three around the bow, and two more along her port and starboard quarter. This “concentration of force” is deliberate. Attacking submarines invariably launched torpedoes from a position ahead and to one side of their target. This meant the torpedo and the ship were running toward each other – shortening the range and closing more quickly – thereby increasing the odds of a hit. Firing from astern actually gave the target an opportunity to outrun the torpedo. This is a close-up of SMS V-25 alongside SMS Lutzow. The IX Flotilla screening the battlecruisers was composed of “V Class” boats. Early on in the development of torpedo craft in the Imperial Navy, it was decided their primary mission was to operate in support of the battle fleet. This almost guaranteed the German boats would be bigger than those of most other navies, and the design emphasis focused on torpedoes, speed, and seaworthiness. The Royal Navy preferred the gun as their weapon of choice, so their destroyers were equally large, but carried more guns than torpedoes, and were intended to protect the battle line against enemy torpedo boats. This theory was rejected by the Imperial Navy. Employing their torpedo boats to defend against attack was of secondary importance. The German torpedo boats were solely designed to deliver massed torpedo attacks against the enemy battle line. In the Kaiserliche Marine torpedo attacks were considered a primary aggressive tactical tool. Consequently, German torpedo boats carried fewer guns, but usually mounted two or three times as many torpedo tubes as their British counterparts. As demonstrated on V-25, there are only three 4.1-inch guns – but there are six 19.7-inch torpedo tubes carried in two single mounts forward of the bridge, with two double torpedo tube mountings nearer the stern. By virtue of their size, German torpedo boats were more difficult to sink by gunfire, and their more numerous torpedoes made them potentially deadly. Torpedo boat and light cruiser models courtesy of "Barroco Hispano". NEXT TIME…… SHORT-LIVED AND UNLUCKY BUT – as an afterthought – you might like to see how Vizeadmiral Franz von Hipper lives when he’s ashore. Admiral Hipper was born in Bavaria and joined the Imperial Navy at age 18. Known as an active and energetic officer, he was much respected within the Kaiserliche Marine – and his years commanding armored cruisers demonstrated his gift for tactics and love of fast warships. Most of his career was spent at sea, in one capacity or another, and he was most often to be found in his quarters aboard ship. Appointed to command of the 1st Scouting Group in 1913, he was aged 51 when war broke out the following year. Von Hipper inherited comfortable quarters ashore from the previous Scouting Group Commander (Admiral Bachmann) and found the need to rest or work from them from time to time. Life at sea, even for an admiral, can be hard and stressful. The quarters were also useful for entertaining visiting dignitaries, his squadron captains and their wives, and even the junior officers on occasion. Here you see the Admiral’s comfortable, two-story dwelling – large enough to billet his immediate aides and enlisted attendants. There is a comfortable dinning room with an adjacent ballroom for formal occasions on the ground floor -- with just enough room for a kitchen tucked away in a corner. The third floor is partitioned-off for the Staff Officers and enlisted attendants. The second floor holds the Admiral’s sleeping quarters, with an outer officer for the staff officers, and an inner office overlooking the harbor for the Admiral. The building is located on the east side of the ship channel into the Inner Basin, and the Admiral often takes breakfast on the terrace (when ashore). A short distance to the right of the building is the Admiral’s landing where his “barge” (steam launch) is moored. In this shot we see the Admiral stepping off the special train returning him from an Imperial Staff conference in Berlin. The Kaiser was kind enough to provide the Admiral with his private train to ensure his speedy return to his wartime command. After all, when an officer wears the Prussian Order Of The Red Eagle, he must not be kept from his duties. The model of the “20th Century Limited” locomotive is courtesy of Barroco Hispano. (I had to work that into a naval base somewhere. Right next to battleships, I’m very fond of old steam trains.) MANY THANKS – as always -- to @Barroco Hispano for his many beautiful models. SPECIAL THANKS to my collaborating partner, @AP, for his wonderful, models – and all the hard work that has gone into them. 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