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HMS King George V (flagship 2nd Battle Squadron – Vice-Admiral Martyn Jerram) leads the deployment of the port column of the battle fleet. Astern of her are HMS Ajax, Centurion, Erin, Orion, Monarch, Conqueror, and Thunderer. The remainder of the Grand Fleet (4th Battle Squadron and 1st Battle Squadron) will fall into line astern and maneuver into line-ahead formation. Jellicoe returns fire on the Hochseeflotte around 18:19. The King George V Class were the most modern battleships in the fleet -- improved versions of the Iron Duke Class. IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: CUXHAVEN By: Dreadnought & AP Chapter 33: THE DEATH OF TWO BATTLECRUISERS Admiral Jellicoe’s deployment commenced around 18:15, with a machine-like precision – ship following ship, division following division, and squadron following squadron. The appearance of Hood and the 3d Battlecruiser Squadron northeast of Hipper had induced him to fall back, and gave Jellicoe the time he needed to perform the delicate maneuver. Like a giant steel tentacle, the ships formed into line-ahead on an easterly course with the terrible, but majestic, grace of a choreographed dance. Leading the line was HMS King George V, named after the reigning monarch. Jellicoe and Iron Duke were ninth in line. And the tail-end position would be “anchored’ by HMS Agincourt (sometimes referred to as “The Gin Palace”), armed with more heavy guns than any dreadnought afloat (14x12-inch). HMS Iron Duke – sister ships Benbow, Emperor Of India, and Marlborough: 25,820 tons – 21 knots – 10x13.5-inch guns – 12x6-inch guns – 4x21-inch torpedo tubes – belt armor 12 inches. HMS Agincourt – ex-Turkish Sultan Osman I – ex Brazilian Riachuelo: 27,500 tons – 22 knots – 14x12-inch guns – 20x6-inch guns-- 10x3-inch guns – 3x21-inch torpedo tubes – belt armor 9 inches. HMS Hercules – Neptune Class: 19,680 tons – 21 knots – 10x12-inch guns – 16x4-inch guns – 3x18-inch torpedo tubes – belt armor 10 inches. Just three designs removed from HMS Dreadnought, her main battery layout did not solve the problem of trying to get ten guns on broadside. Provisions were made for cross-deck firing, but the decks were not reinforced and were invariably damaged. She was in the farthest starboard column and would be among the last to deploy. (Battleship models courtesy of "Barroco Hispano". Around 18:18, the leading dreadnoughts of the Hochseeflotte opened on HMS Agincourt and Hercules, straddling both ships, but causing no damage. Agincourt was the last ship in the starboard column and slipped neatly into line as the first German shells threw up huge geysers around her. This should be ample proof – if any is needed – that Jellicoe’s decision to deploy on the port column was correct. If he had deployed 4,000 yards closer to the enemy, as his critics advocated, the Grand Fleet would have been taken under fire while still deploying from their column formation. HMS Marlborough returned fire at approximately 13,000 yards, but lost sight of the target in the smoke and ceased fire after three salvos. From a potentially disastrous situation eighteen minutes before, Jellicoe now stood ready to cross his enemy’s “T” and envelope his fleet from the east. But while the “big picture” between the two battle fleets was beginning to play out, the more “private” grudge-match between the opposing battlecruisers was taking on a more lethal tone. Rear Admiral Sir Horace Hood – circa 1916. Rear-Admiral Sir Horace Hood was the living embodiment of “THE” Royal Navy officer. Being the great-great-grandson of Admiral Sir Samuel Hood, 1st Viscount Hood, he naturally joined the Royal Navy at age twelve. His naval lineage was so formidable it was said he was...”pure Royal Navy at its most gallant”. Early on, he was assigned to the cruiser HMS Calliope for service in the Pacific, and was aboard when Calliope clawed her way out to sea in the teeth of the tropical cyclone that struck Apia, Samoa, in 1889. She was the only ship to survive, while six other warships foundered in the harbor. Hood was quick-witted, resourceful, said to be handsome, and at a youthful forty-five years of age – one of the youngest flag-officers in the fleet. Truly, a man “gifted” by The Gods. Hood was leading the 3rd Battlecruiser Squadron on a SE course, about two miles ahead of Beatty’s battlecruisers, and both groups were engaging Hipper on a parallel course about 16,000 yards to the south. Beatty’s group was still partly obscured by the mists along the Jutland coast, but HMS Princess Royal, nevertheless, received two 12-inch hits in quick succession – one from the battleship SMS Markgraf and one from SMS Lutzow. For the moment, Hood’s ships were obscured in the mist and haze to the northeast, while Hipper’s ships were frequently clear of smoke and mist and sharply outlined by the setting sun. As the battle ran to the SE, the British gunnery seemed to improve – especially that of the 3rd Battlecruiser Squadron. It should be remembered, they were fresh from gunnery practice at Scapa Flow when they were ordered to sea. Between 18:19 and 18:30, HMS Indomitable struck SMS Derfflinger three times and Seydlitz once, while Lutzow (flag) – leading the line – took ten hits in quick succession from HMS Lion, Inflexible, and Invincible. Four of Invincible’s 12-inch shells struck Lutzow forward, below the waterline – one blowing a large hole in the bow torpedo flat, and another, an equally large hole in the broadside torpedo flat. The torpedo flats were the two largest compartments forward of “A” turret. They flooded completely in mere minutes -- and began leaking into adjacent compartments. The other two shells also ripped large, irregular, holes in the lower hull, further opening the ship to the sea. Lutzow maintained her speed and position in line – but it was only a matter of time. HMS Invincible, flagship of Sir Horace Hood’s 3rd Battlecruiser Squadron. She was the FIRST battlecruiser – the original concept ship of an entirely new type of warship. Among the British battlecruisers at Jutland that day, the three ships of the Invincible Class (Invincible, Inflexible, and Indomitable) were shooting well. Admiral Hood had pushed his men hard during their recent training period on the Scapa Flow gunnery ranges. Beatty watched 3rd Battle Cruiser Squadron, visibly agitated and beaming with pride. One of his staff recorded… ”Hood pressed home his attack, and it was an inspiring sight to see this squadron of battlecruisers dashing towards the enemy with every gun in action. On Lion’s bridge, we felt like cheering them on, for it seemed the decisive moment of battle had come” But the moment for cheering passed quickly. At 18:32, for a fatal 2 minutes, the constantly moving and shifting smoke and mist parted around HMS Invincible. Gunnery Officer Paschen aboard SMS Lutzow, and von Hase aboard Derfflinger, just 9,000 yards away, seized the moment with the speed and opportunism acquired through long training and battle experience. In just a matter of seconds, the main battery turrets steadied on Invincible – the big gun tubes elevated – needles swung on the repeaters – and the Chief Gunnery Officers jammed their fingers down on the worn red buttons. Derfflinger opened first. Two shells landed “over” – but two struck home. Rapid salvos were ordered and two more salvos blasted out of the big rifles only twenty seconds apart. At 18:34, Lutzow fired the last salvo and one shell struck the face-plate of Invincible’s midships “Q” turret. The 12-inch armor-piercing shell penetrated the 7-inch armor, detonating cordite charges in the gun house, and blew the armored roof three hundred feet into the air. Within a fraction of a second, the flash from the powder burn raced down the turret trunk to the magazines. A series of rapid explosions could be seen and the magazine erupted in an angry ball of flame. A gigantic column of black smoke and debris gushed some four hundred feet into the sky. The ship could be seen to break exactly in the middle as coal dust shot out of the cracks and broken seams. Pieces of Invincible were thrown hundreds of feet into the air before raining down in all directions. At least one, and possibly both, midships turrets (“P” & “Q”) were flung high into the air before splashing into the sea – guns and all. The tripod masts were seen to collapse inward on each other, and more explosions were heard. Mercifully, a monstrous smoke cloud settled over the water and obscured the dying ship. It was all over in just fifteen seconds. A detail shot of HMS Invincible. The turrets on this class were lettered, bow to stern – “A”, port side ”P”, starboard side “Q”, and “X”. One shell out of the fatal 4-gun salvo fired by SMS Lutzow struck the face-plate of “Q” turret, penetrated, and started a fire among powder charges in the handling trunk that detonated both midships magazines. HMS Invincible at the moment of the explosion. It is a grainy, black and white photo – and was obviously taken in great haste – but columns of smoke, fire, or coal dust can be seen shooting up out of various parts of the ship. The large white “cloud” just aft of the forward superstructure is, in reality, a gigantic fire-ball just starting to form. In ten more seconds, she would be gone. (HMS Invincible model courtesy of @Barroco Hispano). The two German battlecruisers had fired three quick salvos each, sending HMS Invincible to the bottom in 90 seconds. The North Sea is known as a “shallow sea”, and especially so off the Jutland coast. The midships had been blown out of Invincible, so when the smoke cloud began to dissipate, the stem and the stern poking up out of the water was all that could be seen – the broken ends were resting on the seafloor. There were six survivors plucked out of the sea by HMS Badger -- five of them were in the foretop gunnery control station and simply stepped out when the water rose up to meet them. The sixth survivor had been manning the rangefinder inside “P” turret and was miraculously blown clear by the explosion. In that blindingly swift fifteen seconds, 1,026 men perished – including the promising young flag-officer, Sir Horace Hood. It is a bit ironic, or possibly eerie, that Horace Hood – descended from Admiral Sir Samuel Hood (1762 – 1814) -- died in the cataclysmic explosion of a battlecruiser. The battlecruiser HMS Hood – named after Sir Samuel Hood – was also destroyed in a cataclysmic explosion in the Denmark Strait in 1941. It is also, I suppose, fitting that the “first ever” battlecruiser – the progenitor of the breed – was HMS Invincible. And the last commissioned British battlecruiser was HMS Hood. You might think of it as the “Alpha” and “Omega” of Admiral Jackie Fisher’s dream. HMS Prince Of Wales (King George V Class battleship commissioned 1940) in the foreground engaging the KM Bismarck and the heavy cruiser KM Prince Eugen in the Denmark Strait, May 1941. HMS Hood can be seen in the background. She, too, has been broken in half by a magazine explosion amidships and is on her way to the bottom. SMS Lutzow, hotly engaged with the battlecruisers of both Beatty and Hood. Within mere minutes, she would receive ten hits from the concentrated fire of three capital ships, and Invincible would deliver the “death blow”. The smoke column on the horizon to the right is Invincible – seconds before the fatal explosion. (Magnificent painting by Claus Bergen.) As quickly as Invincible had disappeared, the realization began to sink in that SMS Lutzow was doomed as well. At just over 9,000 yards, a fusillade of British shells from three capital ships had struck the big battlecruiser on the thinly armored portions of the bow, some blasting holes in the forecastle deck that reached all the way down to the four-inch armor belt. One eyewitness later said the holes were big enough “to have easily driven a locomotive through”. The sea could be clearly seen to wash in and out of the gaping holes – at least for a little while. As heavy caliber shells smashed through the forecastle deck and tore jagged holes in the thin bow plating, four 12-inch shells were seen to strike below the waterline. Though all four shells ripped open the ship’s lower hull, two of them in particular, fired by Invincible, struck beneath the armor belt and penetrated the hull below the protective armor deck. These shells scored direct hits on both the bow and broadside torpedo flats. The broadside torpedo flat had firing tubes mounted on either beam and stretched the entire width of the hull. Due to the sheer length of a torpedo, the bow torpedo flat, though smaller, also stretched the width of the narrow bow. Both compartments quickly flooded and the battlecruiser took on an estimated 2,300 tons of water. Kapitan Harder sheered out of line and reduced speed to 16 knots to try to ease the flooding, but Lutzow was effectively out of the battle. Barely maneuverable, with her wireless aerials shot away, one serviceable main battery turret, and progressive flooding through holes that could not be “plugged” – the finest gunnery ship in the Hochseeflotte was all but useless. And yet, she continued to fire at the multitude of targets appearing out of the smoke and haze. Reluctantly, von Hipper ordered Kapitan Harder to detach Lutzow from the 1st Scouting Group and withdraw to the west at his best possible speed. It should be noted – Lutzow had now absorbed the impact of, at least, 22 heavy caliber shells – and she was still afloat. Unfortunately, though she turned away to the west, Beatty was forcing the German battlecruisers onto a southerly course and would maintain a steady fire on the crippled cruiser. With SMS Lutzow’s bow filling with sea water, she was no longer capable of maintaining battle speed, and could only maneuver slowly and with great difficulty. The torpedo boat G-39 has been ordered alongside to embark Vizeadmiral Hipper and his staff, and transfer them to a battlecruiser still capable of fighting. The battle continues to rage around her and she is in imminent danger of total destruction. (Art by Claus Bergen.) As a matter of some interest – Claus Bergen (1885 – 1964) -- was a noted German artist and illustrator specializing in fishing scenes, coastal landscapes, and naval subjects. In 1914 he was appointed “Marine Painter to Kaiser Wilhelm II”. After the Battle Of Jutland, there was enormous demand from museums, the public, and ship captains that had participated in the action, for paintings of battle scenes. To meet the demand, Vizeadmiral Scheer took the Hochseeflotte into the Baltic Sea with Bergen aboard and staged portions of the battle – complete with firing blank rounds to simulate the battle scenes. His works are the most accurate depictions of the warships and, quite possibly, the most realistic naval combat scenes ever painted. Around 18:50, Kommodore Andreas Michelsen, aboard the light cruiser SMS Rostock, took it on his own initiative to dispatch five torpedo boats to assist the stricken battlecruiser. (The Kaiserliche Marine may not have had a centuries-long tradition to live by, but they considered themselves the elite of the German military – and above all, they were a “family” – “Kameraden”. The torpedo boats would not leave their comrades to the mercy of the sea, and if needed, they would fight to protect them.) As the torpedo boat G-39 approached, a signal lamp on Lutzow’s bridge ordered her to come alongside. As a stationary target, Lutzow was still under heavy fire from Beatty’s battlecruisers as well as the battle squadrons of the Grand Fleet. The torpedo boats G-37 and V-45 immediately began laying a smokescreen around the crippled battlecruiser to make her less of a target. Unable to maneuver, Lutzow continued to receive numerous hits from British battlecruisers to the east. G-37, G-38, G-40, and V-45 quickly swung toward the enemy, drove through the smokescreen astern of Lutzow, and surged ahead to engage the threat. The four little ships fanned-out in attack mode and continued to lay a thick smoke screen as they advanced. As the torpedo boats closed their targets, the British battlecruisers suddenly swung hard east to avoid the attack and ceased firing at Lutzow. The little torpedo boats had gamely charged the enemy to protect the stricken battlecruiser from what could only have been annihilation. While his flotilla-mates went into the attack, Oberleutnant zur See von Loefen ignored the risk of near-certain destruction from large caliber shells raining down, and eased the little G-39 up against the big battlecruiser. He nervously stood by as Vizeadmiral Hipper and his staff made their way down from the bridge to the ship’s rail. Hipper knew he could no longer exercise effective command of his battlecruisers from a flagship that had, literally, been shot full of holes – he had to get to a battlecruiser still in the fight. As the Admiral’s staff went over the side, Hipper gazed fore and aft at the destruction that was once the newest and finest warship in the Hochseeflotte. He waved one last time to Harder on the bridge, saluted the battle ensign on the aft mast, then went over the side. And so began the odyssey of Vizeadmiral Franz von Hipper. The little torpedo boat pulled away from Lutzow and Hipper ordered von Loefen to catch-up to 1st Scouting Group so he could resume command. (In his absence, the Imperial battlecruisers were led by Kapitan zur See Hartog, in SMS Derfflinger.) The small torpedo boat lunged forward and set out in the wake of the battlecruisers. Vizeadmiral Scheer had, by this time, joined battle with the Grand Fleet and was maneuvering his battle squadrons in an effort to gain the upper hand. Kapitan Hartog was doing his best to keep station ahead of the Hochseeflotte while continuing to trade salvos with Beatty. All the while, the German battlecruisers were charging in and out of the gun smoke, funnel smoke, and mist -- and coming in for their share of shells from the British battleships as well. After losing sight of the Panzerkreuzer once or twice, G-39’s speed and agility managed to close-up with them while dodging the mountainous shell splashes and taking a good deal of whirring splinters through her thin skin. Hipper eyed his battlecruisers through binoculars and quickly realized SMS Von der Tann was in no condition to act as a flagship. G-39 sheered away into the smoke to avoid incoming salvos, and when she came abreast the battlecruiser line again, she was beside SMS Seydlitz. It was at this moment that Hipper realized just how much damage his squadron had sustained. Seydlitz was maintaining her speed and position in line, and she continued to fire with three turrets – but she was down by the bow – similar to Lutzow, but not that bad. SMS Derfflinger was up ahead, but Hipper already knew she had taken a great deal of punishment. After a few seconds thought, Hipper ordered Oberleutnant von Loefen to drop back to SMS Moltke – she would be the new flagship. But the chaos of battle was unrelenting, and it would be nearly an hour later (20:45) when Hipper finally stepped onto Moltke’s deck. Hipper had seen the damage to his squadron, but he did not fully understand his magnificent battlecruisers were nearing their limits. Meanwhile, SMS Lutzow fired her last salvo at 19:45 and disappeared to the SW behind the smokescreen of the escorting torpedo boats. Later, after nightfall, Lutzow was still making 15 knots and altered course to the south to try and stay on the disengaged side of the Hochseeflotte as they withdrew toward Horn’s Reef. Around 21:13, the trailing ship of the Hochseeflotte lost sight of Lutzow, which was no longer able to keep up. Kapitan Harder held out hope of being able to evade the British and “cheat the Devil” by nursing Lutzow into port – but it was a long way to the Jade. By 21:30, the battered cruiser was settling slowly into the sea. Water began to lap over what remained of the forecastle deck and was quickly flooding everything above the main armored deck. With large areas below the main armored deck already flooded, Harder had to reduce speed to relieve the pressure on the rear bulkheads of the large torpedo flats. Around 23:45 Lutzow’s speed had dropped to 7 knots and she was still taking on water. Most critical of all, the forward main pumps suddenly failed due to jammed control rods. The possibility of Lutzow limping into the Jade was fast becoming no more than a dream. By 00:30 on 1 June, there was simply too much water in the hull for the remaining pumps to handle. With no hope of “plugging” the huge holes in the bow, and insufficient means to remove the water – Lutzow’s crew was fighting their last battle – and losing. Water began rising in the forward generator compartments and shorted-out the dynamos – forcing the damage control parties to work by oil lamps and candlelight. Rising water also began to pour into the forward boiler room. By now, all forward compartments up to the conning tower and below the main armored deck were completely flooded. Everything above the main armored deck forward of “A” turret barbette was flooded as well. Efforts to plug the holes had been useless – most were far too large for collision mats, or the rising seas washed them away shortly after they were rigged. As the draft forward increased, the waves washing over the battered forecastle deck hindered or prohibited repair efforts. This is a rough schematic showing the remaining buoyancy and bow-down angle of Lutzow around 01:00 on 1 June. As water crept toward “A” turret, the gun crews and magazine handling crews labored in the lantern-lit darkness, moving shells and powder charges into the “B” turret barbette and magazines before the sea rendered them useless. It is a curious thing to see the minds of warriors at work in a crisis. Even with the sea lapping at their pant-legs, the gunners were determined to defend their ship until the very last. The wounded among them were either working on repairs, or had been moved to the comparative safety of the quarter deck. The signal books, charts, and important papers had been bagged for transfer to one of the escorting torpedo boats. The ship’s log was being annotated by the Officer of the Watch, and would leave the ship – if and when he did. The Kapitan’s steward had gathered a small satchel of personal effects from his cabin – there could have been more – but the little torpedo boats would be terribly crowded when the time came. And yet, around 01:15, an attempt was made to maneuver the ship stern-first toward Horn’s Reef. Even at the last possible moment, it was hoped steaming astern might relieve the pressure on the forward bulkheads, somehow slow the flooding, and just possibly get them home. But this novel idea failed. The big cruiser was so far down at the bows, the propellers aft were partially out of the water. In a last act of desperation, an attempt was made to tow Lutzow with the torpedo boats. And though every effort was made, the little boats simply did not have the horsepower to move a capital ship full of sea water. As the sky just begins to lighten in the east, Lutzow lies abandoned, her crew removed by the waiting torpedo boats. She is seriously down by the bows and listing to port. Her guns are silent now, but the remaining steam in the boilers turns her propellers, as though she refused to give up. By 01:30, the damage control officer estimated there were 8,400 tons of water in the ship, and she was beginning to list to port – with the possibility of capsizing at any time. Kapitan Harder finally made the difficult decision and ordered...”Fires out – abandon ship…” The torpedo boats G-37, G-38, G-40, and V-45 came alongside and made ready to remove the crew. Lutzow’s men assembled on the port rail and Kapitan Harder said a few words – reminding them Lutzow was a “crack” gunnery ship – that she had led the line from the beginning – every man had done more than his duty, with courage and devotion – and...”All that could be done – has been done.” With that, three cheers were raised for the ship and three for His Majesty, the Kaiser. Harder simply finished with...”Alright, my men – to the boats!” The crew transferred to the torpedo boats in a quick and orderly manner. Harder was the last man on deck, saluting the battle ensign before he went over the side. On Harder’s orders, SMS G-38 stood off and fired two torpedoes into the battlecruiser. At 01:47 she slid bow-first beneath the waves – approximately 37 miles NW of Horn’s Reef. SMS Lutzow was the only German dreadnought to be lost that day, and the only Imperial battlecruiser ever lost in action. Though she set a proud example, she was, in the end...”short-lived and unlucky.” During her superb performance at Jutland, SMS Lutzow led the Panzerkreuzer battle line for a full four hours, and as flagship 1st Scouting Group, Beatty deliberately took her under fire with two of his six battlecruisers during the “run to the south”. During the “run to the north”, HMS Barham added her powerful 15-inch guns to the rain of shells targeting Lutzow. And finally, as Hipper’s battlecruisers neared the deploying Grand Fleet, several British battleships opened on her as well. The big cruiser had continually dueled with two, three, or more enemy capital ships – straddling them with rapid and accurate salvos. As a mark of the esteem in which Kapitan Harder was held, he was decorated with the Iron Cross and later given command of SMS Baden – one of only two 15-inch-gunned battleships commissioned into the Kaiserliche Marine. The Imperial battlecruisers were instrumental in carrying the fight to the British, and the swift and powerful warships bore the brunt of the battle throughout that long afternoon. Even after the opposing battle fleets engaged, the Panzerkreuzer took station as the vanguard of the fleet and led the way. And Lutzow led them all into the thick of the battle. Her superbly trained and courageous gunners fired 380 main gun rounds and 400 rounds from her secondary batteries – and two torpedoes. The big Panzerkreuzer exhibited, quite possibly, the finest shooting in the annals of the “Dreadnought Era” – and certainly, the most skilled marksmanship at the Battle of Jutland. Her crew suffered 115 dead and another 50 wounded – second only to Derfflinger, which lost 157 killed and 26 wounded. In her leading position as flagship of 1st Scouting Group, Lutzow was usually under fire from two or more British warships, and she took more damage than any ship present at the battle. A total of 25 large caliber shells struck the German battlecruiser; four 15-inch fired by 5th Battle Squadron during the “run to the north” – twelve 13.5-inch shells fired over the duration of the battle primarily by Beatty’s battlecruisers, as well as a few fired by the British battle fleet during their deployment; and nine 12-inch shells fired during the final, brief, engagement with 3rd Battlecruiser Squadron. (These are only the large caliber shells. The number of medium shell hits were known to be numerous, but the total is unknown.) The German naval architects had done their job well. When all the fine points have been debated, many naval analysts say the Derfflinger Class battlecruisers were the finest capital ships built during the “Dreadnought Era” (1905-1930) – and with good cause. The British will claim superiority for their Queen Elizabeth Class – but HMS Warspite proved they were just as vulnerable as any other capital ship. But the German designers are widely acclaimed to have produced the two finest warships (Lutzow and Derfflinger) possessed by either fleet at the Battle of Jutland. Through four long hours of near-constant engagement, Lutzow’s carefully crafted armor suite protected her machinery spaces and kept her traveling at high speed. When other battlecruisers suffered turret breakdowns or battle damage, Lutzow’s firepower remained largely intact. Over the course of the prolonged battle, her precision gunnery was superb. And while she suffered a good deal of damage to her upper works and less heavily armored decks, her face-hardened Krupp steel resisted penetration by the heaviest shells. She was a thing of beauty, and a marvel of engineering. But, as in all “perfect” things, there is an imperfection – in this case -- an “Achilles Heel”. A common practice in all navies of the period was to put the thickest possible armor belt along the waterline amidships, stretching from “A” turret forward, to “D” turret aft. This created an “armored box” protecting the gun turret barbettes at either end and the machinery and boiler spaces between them. This practice left both “ends” of the ship (bow and stern) either lightly armored, or completely unarmored. This theory, basically, dismissed the ends of the ship as “unimportant”. (In the US Navy battleship design school, it was called the “all or nothing” principle.) Derfflinger’s designers “hedged their bets” on this one. Rather than leave the ends completely unarmored, they hit upon a cost-saving measure. The main armor belt amidships was 12 inches thick – respectable by any standards. From “A” turret forward to the stem, the armor tapered to 4 inches – with the same protection at the stern. And the armor belt extended down below the waterline to the “standard” depth used on all German capital ships (leaving the lower hull unarmored because no shells were expected to strike there). And on the face of it – during the battle – this system worked very well. But at one of the late planning meetings in 1911, it had been suggested Derfflinger’s 4-inch bow armor could be reduced in thickness to save money. However, Herr Hullmann, of the design department, had said…... “With a reduction in belt armor thickness on the bow, it should be understood large caliber shells will inevitably strike the ship there. One must then expect the ship will fill with water forward. If the damage is sufficient, leaks will occur that cannot be sealed with the means available onboard. The ship’s outer hull, to which the armor is secured, will undoubtedly leak, and the forecastle ahead of the citadel transverse bulkhead will certainly fill, and could not be kept drained with the means available onboard”. At that point, the notion of reducing the bow armor thickness was dropped. But tragically, Herr Hullmann had unknowingly predicted the death of SMS Lutzow. Though they did not tamper with the original design, neither did they realize a mere 4 inches of armor would not be enough. Even a British 6-inch shell could penetrate a 4-inch armor belt. In all truth – in 1911 -- neither the designers (mostly), nor the admirals, nor the lesser ranked “experts”, believed extensive shell damage to the extreme ends of a warship to be a serious possibility. It must be remembered that prior to the outbreak of war in 1914, the naval powers of the world had very little practical experience in modern naval warfare. During the Victorian Era, steam powered ships-of-the-line and sail-rigged ironclad steamers had fought the occasional action, but in the century after the 1805 Battle Of Trafalgar, there was only one major fleet action – the 1905 Battle Of Tsushima. Unfortunately for naval theoreticians and design analysts, Tsushima was fought at the end of the “pre-dreadnought” era and the beginning of the “dreadnought” era. The advent of HMS Dreadnought tore up all the existing rule books. The result was very few naval officers with experience of Tsushima (only a few foreign naval observers were present) – and whatever technical knowledge they acquired in 1905, was no longer applicable to the advanced naval technology of 1911. This long period of peace – the “Pax Britannica” – also meant their was little, if any, combat experience in the officer corps or among designers. Designers could only acquire practical knowledge of the interaction between armor and shells through testing. But this was still a rudimentary business in the first decade of the 20th Century, and results could easily be misleading or misinterpreted. And it is also debatable as to whether or not designers, or naval officers, fully understood the destructive capability of naval gunfire prior to 1914. And they certainly had no data about shell trajectory once it hit the water – otherwise, they would have increased the thickness of the bow armor belt – and extended it farther below the waterline. But then – the 4-inch armor belt forward of “A” turret was meant to be a cost-saving measure –- a compromise -- and something of a calculated risk. All of them, designers and naval officers, probably assumed that if a shell got that close to the end of the ship – it would likely miss and fall into the sea. None of them could have predicted four large caliber shells would strike the forecastle deck – directly along the centreline of the ship. These shells penetrated two decks down and exploded, blasting large holes in the forecastle deck and wrecking the watertight integrity of many of the compartments above the armored deck. And none of them had any idea four large shells, in quick succession, would strike underwater – beneath the armor belt – and rip huge holes in Lutzow’s lower hull. And none of them, in their wildest dreams, would ever have imagined the finest ship in the Hochseeflotte could take on 8,400 tons of water before her own Kapitan ordered her sunk. But any military man will tell you – battle, once joined, has no certainties. There is always the unexpected. NEXT TIME…… INTO THE JAWS OF DEATH MANY THANKS to @Barroco Hispano for his beautiful warship models. SPECIAL THANKS to my friend and partner, @AP, for his talents, meticulous models, colorful imagination, and extreme dedication. If you enjoyed anything – please punch the “like” button so WE will know. A comment would be even more informative. Comments and critiques requested and gratefully accepted. All questions answered promptly to the best of our ability. THANK YOU for your visit! You may wish to visit these CJ’s as well…… SERIES I: IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: WILHELMSHAVEN SERIES II: IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: CUXHAVEN Appearing – Work In Publication SERIES III: IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: BREMERHAVEN Appearing -- ??? And please feel free to drop in at… THE SIMTROPOLIS SHIPYARD https://community.simtropolis.com/forums/topic/761469-simtropolis-shipyard/?tab=comments#comment-1766496

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

SMS Lutzow -- circa 1916 – at sea in heavy weather. IMPERIAL DOCKYARDS: CUXHAVEN By: Dreadnought & AP Chapter 25: SHORT-LIVED AND UNLUCKY SMS Lutzow – late 1915 – at cruising speed. With the laying of Derfflinger’s keel on 30 March 1912, the last of the new “Grosse Kreuzer” authorized under the Fleet Law Amendment of 1906 was under construction. Any future building would have to be done under the terms of the “replacement” clause of the Naval Laws. Under this provision, older cruisers (20 years) could be “retired” or sold for scrap, and replaced with new construction. They would be ordered under the “Ersatz” (replacement) designation. The new “Grosse Kreuzer - 1912” would be ordered as the “Ersatz Kaiserin Augusta” – a replacement for the old protected cruiser commissioned in 1892. (See Chapter 2 for details of the old cruiser.) This ship would be built as a sister-ship to Derfflinger and would be the second ship of the class. While SMS Goeben had been built as a sister-ship to Moltke, that choice was made largely as a matter of expedience. The Design Bureau had been over-burdened with work, and the Kaiserliche Marine could not afford to lose a year in the building race against the British. For “Grosse Kreuzer – 1912”, the reason was purely financial. An 18 March 1911 memorandum from Admiral Rollmann stipulated the Naval budget for 1911 and 1912 only allowed 32.3 million Marks for each battlecruiser. The rising annual costs of new ships had not been taken into account by the original Naval Laws, so any cost overruns would have to be covered by public subscription. The only logical way to obtain a new battlecruiser at least equal to Derfflinger’s power – was to build a duplicate. The Imperial economy was already groaning under the weight of the Naval Estimates, and anything larger, or more powerful, was out of the question. For the first time since SMS Blucher was launched at the Imperial Dockyards Kiel Werft, the contract for the new battlecruiser would NOT be given to Blohm & Voss Shipyards in Hamburg. This was an unusual step and has never been fully explained. Blohm & Voss had acquired considerable experience and skill over the years in building battlecruisers. And it is especially odd since the company had also granted large discounts on the building costs. The contract was awarded to the F. Schichau Werk in Danzig, which had previously built the dreadnought battleships SMS Oldenburg and Konig Albert (as well as several pre-dreadnoughts). There has been speculation that the eastern provinces needed a boost in their employment rate, or that more shipyards needed experience in building capital ships, or even the need to break the Blohm & Voss monopoly on turbine technology by encouraging other yards to build them. Regardless of why Schichau got the contract, “Grosse Kreuzer Ersatz Kaiserin Augusta” was ordered as the SMS Lutzow, and her keel was laid on 15 May 1912 – just six weeks after SMS Derfflinger’s keel laying ceremony. Officials estimated she would join the Hochseeflotte in late 1915. And it’s just as well they chose to build her as a sister to Derfflinger, for the British were pushing ahead with their plans to neutralize the Imperial battlecruisers – any loss in time could have serious consequences. The “fast battleship” HMS Warspite lying at anchor off the naval dockyard of Rosyth, Scotland, while attached to the Battlecruiser Fleet. The Forth Bridge is in the background. She was the second ship of the Queen Elizabeth Class to join the Grand Fleet in March 1915. Displacement 32,590 tons – 24 knots – 8x15-inch guns – 12x6-inch guns – 4x21-inch torpedo tubes – belt armor 13 inches. The British already saw the German “Grosse Kreuzer” as a tactical threat to their battle line, but they were focused on the speed and gun power of the cruisers. First Sea Lord Winston Churchill, and his cronies at the Admiralty, knew they would be used for scouting purposes, but they feared the Germans would employ them against the battle fleet (much as cavalry might be employed against an army of infantry). If the German battlecruisers used their speed to get into position across the bows of the battle line, they could concentrate their gun fire on the lead ships and either sink them or force them to turn away. Such a maneuver could throw the Grand Fleet into disarray, resulting in unacceptable losses, and possibly even losing the battle. This was, in fact, what the British feared most, and it was their intention to build a squadron of larger and more powerfully-gunned high-speed battleships to neutralize this threat. (Churchill envisioned two squadrons – the Queen Elizabeth and Revenge classes -- but the naval budget couldn’t support that. The resulting Revenge Class was built with 15-inch guns, but a much reduced propulsion plant – only 22 knots – a significant cost reduction.) HMS Queen Elizabeth, the first of the British fast battleships, joined the Grand Fleet in 1914, and HMS Warspite would go to sea in March 1915, followed by HMS Barham in October 1915 – the same year SMS Lutzow was commissioned into the Kaiserliche Marine. (The following year, prior to the Battle of Jutland, both HMS Valiant and HMS Malaya would join the Grand Fleet – giving the British a squadron of five fast battleships. They would play a critical part in the battle.) The British Admiralty, apparently more interested in speed and big guns than armored protection, placed their reliance on safety in numbers. They continued to build capital ships at a far higher rate than Germany ever could, secure in the belief that when the smoke cleared, the more numerous Royal Navy would be the victor. By the close of 1915, and the first year and a half of the war, Great Britain could count 10 battlecruisers and 3 fast battleships in service. In contrast, Imperial Germany could only muster 5 battlecruisers (SMS Goeben was in Turkish service by that time). Though Germany’s battlecruiser / fast battleships were superior – ship for ship – they were outnumbered nearly three to one. HMS Revenge: 29,590 tons – 21.9 knots – 8x15-inch guns – 14x6-inch guns – 4x21-inch torpedo tubes – belt armor 13 inches. She was the lead ship of her class and joined the battle squadrons of the Grand Fleet in February 1916. She made a fine edition to the battle line but was far too slow to keep up with battlecruisers. With such an overriding fear of the tactical employment of the German battlecruisers, the British never seemed to have considered the ships, themselves. Of course they were aware of their high speed, and their big guns were on display for all to see, but beyond that, the British had no hard information. Churchill and the Admiralty Sea Lords naturally assumed with such great speed and a ten-gun main battery, the German battlecruisers could hardly have more armor than their own battlecruisers. They had no idea they would one day be trading salvos with heavily armored “fast-battleships” rather than thin-skinned battlecruisers. It would take the outbreak of war in 1914 to alert the British to the rugged strength and superior design of the German Panzerkreuzer. But it would only be after the war was over that the British learned the full extent of the superior German armor protection. In retrospect, the only real advantage the Queen Elizabeth’s would have were their massive 15-inch guns. Any warship that dared to come within range of them was in serious jeopardy. And the Imperial battlecruisers would have the short end of the stick in this fight – Tirpitz had seen to that. He continued to insist his battlecruisers would only fight other battlecruisers – not dreadnought battleships. Anyone with a logical thought process knows it is impossible to draw such a line. A warship must engage whatever enemy targets it encounters – and in a massive fleet engagement – it is almost certain one of them would be a battleship. The Imperial battlecruisers were faster than British battleships, and their armor was strong enough to withstand damage from the 12 inch and 13.5 inch guns of the Grand Fleet. But the offensive power of the Panzerkreuzer was lacking. SMS Von der Tann was, for various reasons, armed with 11-inch guns even when the British Invincible Class was known to posses 12-inch weapons. To avoid initial construction delays, Von der Tann could have been taken into the dockyards in 1911 or 1912 and re-armed with 12-inch guns. (It would have meant extensive modifications, but there was time for that, and the money could have been found – somewhere.) The Moltke Class should have been designed with 12-inch guns to start with. And when the British switched to the 13.5-inch gun, Seydlitz should have been armed with a 13.8-inch gun being developed by Krupp. German gunnery was excellent – they hit what they aimed at. And bigger shells would have caused much more damage to the British ships. That, alone, could have made all the difference in several major engagements early in the war. But the German battlecruisers were always “a day late and a dollar short” when it came to the guns. They were fast enough – and superbly armored – they simply lacked the broadside “punch”. Here you see SMS Lutzow coaling ship while moored to buoys in the shallows of Schillig Roads. She is on picket duty, but Kapitan Harder didn’t want to risk going into action with nearly empty bunkers. In order to speed things up, coal lighters have been brought alongside either beam of the big battlecruiser. The majority of the crew would be turned-to and the ship’s boat booms pressed into service hoisting aboard cargo nets full of canvas coal sacks. At this point we see the obvious penalty of Tirpitz’ stubborn insistence in clinging to an 11-inch gun long past its usefulness. The 15-inch guns of the British Queen Elizabeth Class could hurl a 1,938 pound shell out to 24,500 yards, twice per minute. The new 12-inch guns chosen for the Derfflinger Class could fire a 915 pound shell out to 17,700 yards, three times per minute – considerably less weight and range than the British. Tirpitz’ out-dated belief that battle ranges would be shorter led to turrets designed with insufficient gun elevation. During testing at the Krupp firing range in Meppin, the SK-L/50 12-inch could fire out to 41,000 yards at maximum possible elevation – a potentially massive advantage over the British – thrown away. Tirpitz and his lack of experience with modern gunnery science, saddled the Kaiserliche Marine with a shell weight half that of the British -- and forced the German ships to close the range by 6,800 yards under fire -- before opening fire themselves! Planning for the British Queen Elizabeth Class started in mid-1911 – approximately the same time as Derfflinger. The German Naval High Command was aware the Vickers Elswick Gun Works had already developed a 14-inch rifle for the Japanese, and though Churchill tried to keep it a secret, word leaked out that a 15-inch gun was under development as well. The Reichsmarineamt should have immediately begun exploring the idea with Krupp – if too late for Derfflinger – then certainly for her follow-on sister-ship Lutzow. But that was not to be. The battleship SMS Bayern would be laid down in 1913 and armed with the new Krupp 15-inch gun. The same year, the Mackensen Class battlecruisers would be laid down and were to be armed with 13.8-inch weapons. In 1915, the Ersatz Yorck Class battlecruisers would finally be designed with a 15-inch main battery – quite literally, years behind the British. But the World War would break out in 1914, slowing or halting construction. Only two of the battleships would ever see service (SMS Bayern and Baden). And the battlecruisers of the Hochseeflotte would go into the greatest naval battle in history – outnumbered and under-gunned. SMS LUTZOW – Derfflinger Class This is an excellent 3-D “cut-away” of the lower decks of SMS Lutzow. Up forward, the top two decks are occupied with Petty Officer’s cabins and large compartments for the crew accommodation. The next deck down shows the Bosun’s Store and Capstan Machinery Room. Below that is the Lower Platform Deck with the Bow Torpedo Flat. Behind that, on the Hold Deck, is the Broadside Torpedo Flat. In the “cut-away” amidships, you can see the two air spaces of the torpedo defense, the passageway, a layer of coal bunkers, the anti-torpedo bulkhead, and then the massive boilers with their uptakes reaching up to the funnels. Behind that, you can see the high and low pressure turbines. Note the very tall “steering guide” mounted at the stem. The keel of the ship that would become SMS Lutzow was laid down in the F. Schichau Werk, Danzig, on 15 May 1912. She would be launched some 18 months later on 29 November 1913 – somewhat longer than it would have taken Blohm & Voss. She was christened in honor of Leutnant-General Ludwig Adolf Wilhelm, Freiherr (Baron) von Lutzow (1782 - 1834). He joined the Prussian Army at age thirteen, fought in the Napoleonic Wars, commanded an Army corps, was wounded twice, and decorated with the Pour le Merite with Oak Leaves. The usual period in the Fitting-Out Basin followed, but it was anything but usual. The Schichau workforce had no experience with the big battlecruisers and things progressed slowly. In August 1914, the war broke out and slowed things down even more. Some of the dockyard work force was called up to serve the colors (unskilled workers), while others were diverted to work on the construction of torpedo boats and submarines – suddenly in great demand. And, if all that was not enough, there was a brutal and hard-fought cruiser war raging in the Baltic Sea. Many man-hours of labor went into repairing mine and torpedo damage, not to mention the gunfire received in close-range skirmishes fought in the foggy narrow sea. SMS Lutzow – profile and deck plan. SMS Lutzow was built as an identical twin to Derfflinger, so there were few differences – some were visible, others were not. Derfflinger’s hull had been composed of sixteen watertight compartments – SMS Lutzow had seventeen. Both of Lutzow’s pole masts were fitted with spotting tops, and the yards – rather than set at right angles – were arranged in and “X” pattern. Both funnels were constructed at equal heights, and both were “half-jacketed”. When completing the detail work at Kiel, the forward funnel was fully jacketed. One significant distinguishing feature on Lutzow was her fourteen 5.9-inch guns mounted in casemates amidships on the battery deck – seven on either beam. In Derfflinger, one gun on either beam was removed to make room for the Frahm Roll-Damping tanks. It was decided the anti-roll tanks were of little value, and the guns were restored in Lutzow. The torpedo armament on Lutzow was different – they were placed in the usual locations, but the tube caliber had been increased to 24-inch with an H-8 type torpedo. Another view of SMS Lutzow coaling ship in Schillig Roads. The only inaccuracy in the battlecruiser model is the way the yards on the fore and aft pole masts are set. On Derfflinger they were set as you see them. On Lutzow they were not set at right angles, but in an “X” pattern – to provide two additional halyards for signaling purposes. One significant difference between Derfflinger and Lutzow was an increase in building costs. Instead of the assumed 56 million Marks paid for Derfflinger – Lutzow cost the Imperial treasury 58 million Marks. This “cost-overrun” could be attributed to several possible reasons: (1) simple inflation – each ship always costs more than the last one; (2) Inexperience in building battlecruisers would naturally lead to higher labor costs – it took much longer to build Lutzow; (3) Blohm & Voss was giving the government big discounts Schichau couldn’t match. Most likely, it was a case of “all of the above”. Twenty months later, on 8 August 1915, SMS Lutzow lay alongside the quay in weak Autumn sunshine with a heavy morning mist hanging close to the surface of the Vistula River. The new crew was arranged on the quarterdeck as Kapitan zur See Victor Harder read the commissioning orders and his orders to take command. He will be Lutzow’s first and only commander. When he finished, three resounding cheers were given as the Imperial Naval Ensign was raised on the mainmast and the commissioning pennant broke at the fore-peak. Lutzow had been commissioned into the wartime Kaiserliche Marine, and the following day she was towed to berth “V” along the Westerplatte. SEA TRIALS Here you see SMS Lutzow moored along the Westerplatte quayside in the Vistula River, Danzig – August 1915. The battlecruiser is coaling from lighters alongside before setting sail for Kiel, where her fitting-out will be completed. Note the crew’s laundry drying on the foremast stays. On 23 August, the new Panzerkreuzer weighed anchor and put to sea on her first cruise – to the Imperial Dockyard, Kiel. With an anti-submarine escort of three torpedo boats – G-192, G-194, G-196 – the small detachment increased speed to 20 knots and steered into the setting sun. At 09:00 the following day, Lutzow made fast to buoy A-11 in the Kieler Hafen. On 26 August the battlecruiser was maneuvered into Kiel’s floating dock to have the 24 inch torpedo tubes installed, and moved yet again on 4 September to the Ordnance Quay where the final pieces of her gunnery fire control equipment were installed and tested. On 13 September Lutzow went to sea for torpedo-firing trials, turning circle tests, and other maneuvering tests – then returned to the dockyard from 26 September to 5 October. On 6 October the new cruiser performed heavy artillery trials and general gunnery drills to ensure the batteries preformed smoothly. These were followed by anchoring and engine trials designed to put the equipment through all possible situations. More maneuvering and engine trials were performed before the cruiser put into the floating dock from 10 to 21 October for adjustments to her machinery. At 08:00 on 25 October 1915, Lutzow cast off and proceeded down the Kieler Hafen for her final engine and maneuvering trials. Around 11:50, the port low-pressure turbine suffered sudden and severe damage and eventual failure. Assisted by two salvage tugs, the new cruiser returned to the Kiel dockyards and began a long period of repair lasting until 2 February 1916. Once the battlecruiser was made fast in the repair basin, the workmen and mechanics lifted the housing cover on the port low-pressure turbine and found extensive damage – a very bad case of “turbine salad”. The mechanics discovered 43 blades and guide vanes had been mangled, in addition to the forward drum labyrinth seal broken, and the aft stuffing box cracked – all of which had to be replaced or mended. The cause of all this damage was also located – the head of a workman’s steel hammer – inscribed with the letters “KWK” (Kaiser Werft Kiel). Accidentally left inside the housing inlet during various machinery adjustments, the hammer had been sucked into the whirling turbine. SMS Lutzow tied-up at the repair wharf. The two Langeoog Class salvage tugs that helped her back to port stand-by. The paddle tug Helena has just made fast the machinists barge alongside the big battlecruiser. The tedious job of inspecting and repairing the damaged turbines will soon begin. Lutzow by “Barroco Hispano”. The buildings on the machinists barge are by “Nob”. The dockside warehouses are from “Mattb325”. The salvage tugs, barge, small boat, and paddle tug are all from “AP”. Subsequently, the remaining three turbines were opened and inspected for damage. The port high-pressure turbine had some blades of the “ahead turbine” damaged by an unknown foreign body, but the damage was minor and could be smoothed out. The starboard high-pressure turbine had insignificant damage to a few blades, but the rear drum labyrinth seal was found to be broken and had to be replaced. The starboard low-pressure turbine had some rotor blades damaged by an unknown foreign body – and several blades and guide vanes were replaced. On 2 February 1916, Lutzow was maneuvered out of the repair basin and shifted to the floating dock where repairs continued until 9 February. Four days later, the battlecruiser was moved to buoy A-15 where lighters were brought alongside and “coaling ship” was carried on for two days, followed by fresh provisions. On 17 February, SMS Lutzow put to sea for her final set of trials and these would mainly focus on testing the turbine repairs, while testing her torpedo shooting, and bringing her big 12-inch rifles to a state of near gunnery perfection. In this view of SMS Lutzow, you can see the sleek lines and low profile of the battlecruiser. The design is uncluttered, utilitarian, and advanced for its time. Lines like these would not be found on warships of other nations for another two decades. OPERATIONAL HISTORY On 19 March, SMS Lutzow was ordered back to her buoy in the Kieler Hafen and made fast just an hour before the 1st Scouting Group arrived from Wilhelmshaven. That evening, Kapitan Harder dinned aboard the flagship with Admiral Hipper and the other ship’s captains. The following day, orders assigned Lutzow to 1st Scouting Group, and on 21 March she put to see with the squadron for torpedo shooting and joint exercises on the gunnery ranges – with battle line training the following day. On 24 March, Lutzow and the rest of the Scouting Group made the transit of the Kaiser Wilhelm I canal, arriving in Wilhelmshaven Roads around 09:52 on the 25th. Soon afterward, a message arrived that enemy units had attacked the German picket forces in the Bight – and Seydlitz, Moltke, and Lutzow weighed and steamed down the Jade channel at 20 knots. Once clear of the estuary, the battlecruisers set course northwest into the open sea. Linking up with Derfflinger, the squadron anchored near Vortrapp Deep lighthouse and set their torpedo nets. Around 01:15 the following morning, the Panzerkreuzer weighed and steamed north, but sighting nothing, they put about. On the way back to the Jade, Lutzow was attacked by the British submarine E-24, but the torpedo passed about 75 yards astern. (Unfortunately for E-24, she would not return from her war patrol.) The squadron returned to Wilhelmshaven Roads and anchored at 20:40. On 31 March, Lutzow, Von der Tann, and a torpedo boat escort put to sea to rendezvous with three torpedo boat flotillas returning from a “sweep” beyond the Bight, and on 2 April Lutzow, Von der Tann, the 2nd Scouting Group, and the 3rd Battle Squadron, sailed in support of another torpedo boat “sweep” of “The Broad Fourteens”, west of the Dutch coast. Lying in Wilhelmshaven harbor, the new cruiser was visited by the Flottenchef, Vizeadmiral Scheer, who spent part of his afternoon inspecting the new cruiser. Lutzow spent the remainder of April on picket duty in Schillig Roads, a turn in the dockyard to have her fire control equipment adjusted, various operations in support of light forces, and even a search for a downed floatplane. Contrary to what many historians contend, the Hochseeflotte did not spend the war hiding safe in harbor while their anchor chains rusted. They were quite active from the very first weeks of the war and continued their operations in the North Sea and the German Bight – even after the Battle Of Jutland -- up until the last few months before the 1918 Armistice. The streamlined and graceful hull form is evident in this picture. Gone are the widely flared and protruding ram bows – no more overhanging deck sponsons – no wing turrets -- and no antiquated “tumble-home” along the sides. The smooth and tested hull form produced a large capital ship capable of 29 knots when pushed. And below, you can see the wonderful detail built into these handsome models. The highly detailed battlecruiser is courtesy of @Barroco Hispano and truly a work of art. The size and massive presence of the gun turrets becomes quite clear in this view – they over-shadow all other features on the deck. The channel marker buoys and mooring buoys are by @AP, as are the tugs and lighters in the picture. They are abundantly detailed and superbly textured works of beauty. Notice the large towing winches on the aft deck of the tugs, the level of detail on the lighters, and even the richly textured coal. In late April 1916, German intelligence and wireless intercepts led the Naval High Command to believe a British force would intrude into the waters of the Bight. Unsure of the enemy strength, Admiral Scheer ordered the 1st and 2nd Scouting Groups to conduct a reconnaissance sweep in the likely areas. At 20:50 on 21 April, SMS Lutzow, Von der Tann, and Seydlitz put to sea with the light cruisers and torpedo boats of the 2nd Scouting Group. Once clear of the Jade Estuary, the light cruisers and one torpedo boat flotilla fanned out in a search pattern ahead of the battlecruisers, while the remaining torpedo boats formed an anti-submarine screen around the big ships. Vizeadmiral Hipper (recently promoted) set course northwest at 20 knots, then altered course due north once clear of Heligoland Island. Around 00:25 in the morning darkness of 22 April, the light cruiser SMS Graudenz struck a mine some 15 miles southwest of Amrum Bank. The light cruiser was damaged, but remained under her own power, and was ordered to return to Wilhelmshaven escorted by four torpedo boats. Hipper’s battlecruisers lingered in the area until 05:20, when Seydlitz reported a submarine. About 20 minutes later, Hipper put about, and the squadron retraced its course without sighting any British warships. Lutzow and Von der Tann dropped anchor around 13:00 in Schillig Roads as “picket ships” while the rest of the force carried on to Wilhelmshaven Roads. On 24 April, SMS Lutzow sortied with 1st Scouting Group on the Lowestoft Raid. (See Chapter 16 for operational details.) During the mission Lutzow engaged a single enemy aircraft off Lowestoft with her 8.8cm Flak guns and brought the plane down with her second shot. Later, another plane approached and the entire squadron opened fire, driving it away. (So much for the effectiveness of early aircraft against warships.) Commodore Tyrwhitt’s Harwich Force arrived on the scene and was taken under fire by the battlecruisers, inflicting severe damage on the flagship, the light cruiser HMS Conquest. The British immediately turned away and retired behind a smoke screen. Lutzow’s secondary batteries also dueled with the escorting destroyers and damaged HMS Laertes. During the bombardment of Lowestoft and Great Yarmouth, and the skirmish with the Harwich Force, Lutzow fired twenty 12-inch explosive shells with half-charges, and forty-one 12-inch explosive shells with full charges – in addition to 168 shells from the 5.9-inch secondary batteries. SMS Lutzow returned to the Jade without further incident. On 26 April 1916, Lutzow went into the dockyard and was “out of action” for some thirty-six hours while repairs were made to the main maneuver valve on the starboard high-pressure turbine. She then returned to a mixed routine of picket duty, escort support for returning naval airships and light forces, “sweeps” into the Bight and off Heligoland Island, and more picket duty. On 15 May, Lutzow was detached for exercises in the Baltic and arrived in the Kieler Hafen the next day. After a two hour lay-over – mostly to drop a mail bag and take on fresh fruit and vegetables – the Panzerkreuzer immediately weighed and headed for the gunnery ranges. Both the main and secondary batteries were drilled and practice fired until darkness closed in. The following day, the big cruiser returned to the ranges for gun calibration and more gunnery practice. On 17 May gunnery drill and practice shooting was resumed at 07:00 with full charges. The Kaiserliche Marine had developed a practice of firing four-gun salvos in rotation – both forward turrets, followed by both stern turrets. This actually saved ammunition while “walking” the salvos onto the target. Once the target was “acquired”, the bow and stern turrets could be fired quickly with only a four-second delay between them. This morning, on the third salvo, the gyroscopic firing gear of “A” turret failed. (This was part of the mechanical computer system used when firing in “director mode”, and received data from Fire Control Central to keep the turret trained on target at all times using “electro-magnetic repeaters”.) “A” turret was immediately switched to “local control” and commands were passed by telephone from “Fire Control Central” to the Turret Captain and gun-layers. Firing continued until mid-day, when Lutzow hove-to so “A” turret could be inspected. The failure of the gyroscopic firing instruments was caused by broken gear axles – apparently shattered by the vibration of the gunfire. This was a unique problem. Derfflinger had the same model turret, but she suffered no such problem, and this one would not go away. Lutzow returned to the gunnery range near Stollergrund on 18 May, and at 09:30 made her first run on the target ship – the old Panzerkorvette Oldenburg. I quote Fahnrich zur See (Ensign) Mardersteig aboard Lutzow…… “We approached the target ship at 20 knots with all guns fully charged and loaded. Commandant Harder gave ‘permission to fire’ and with a single thunderclap, the forward two- turret salvo roared off into the distance. The fall of shot was short. ‘Four forwards’ ordered Gunnery Officer Paschen, ‘Fire!’ The aft part of the ship rumbled as the guns crashed out. The fall of shot was over. Now the target was properly bracketed. The forward turrets adjusted, fired again, and an armor-piercing shell struck the target. The target ship fired a red flare and ‘Cease fire immediately – run concluded’ came through all telephones.” Lutzow had struck the target in textbook fashion – with the third salvo – gyroscope problems notwithstanding. The battlecruiser returned to her buoy in the Kieler Hafen and, as a reward for the crew, Kapitan Harder ordered a special dinner with a fresh-baked strudel for desert – topped-off with Schnapps. SMS Lutzow working up to maximum speed during the Measured Mile run off Alsen Island, May 1916. At 07:00 the next morning, Lutzow weighed and ran out of the Kieler Hafen for torpedo firing practice, and then moved to the “Measured Mile Course” off the island of Alsen. All the aft portholes, armored screens (on the 5.9-inch batteries), and skylights were battened down to prevent flooding over the fantail during the speed trials. Double stoker teams were laid on in the boiler rooms and a full head of steam was raised. The “Speed Trial” flag broke at the masthead and ‘All ahead full” was ordered. The bridge engine repeaters clanged and Lutzow sprang forward like a greyhound unleashed. The four screws dug in as the battlecruiser surged forward and high rollers washed across the fantail nearly flooding the turbine air intakes. It should be noted Lutzow’s speed trial was conducted with the ship in a full “Combat Load” condition. On the run up and back, the average speed was recorded at 27.9 knots – and the Alsen Island course was in shallow water. Had the trials been conducted in deeper water, the hydraulic tank engineers estimated an additional two knots could be achieved – possibly more. There was little doubt on Lutzow’s bridge that she was the fastest warship in the Hochseeflotte and a match for anything in the Royal Navy. SMS Lutzow returned to the Kieler Hafen and spent 20 May coaling, and the crew was given a day of rest on the 21st. The following morning the Panzerkreuzer cast off and entered the Kaiser Wilhelm I canal via the Holtenau Lock, anchoring in Wilhelmshaven Roads around 23:45. On 24 May, Lutzow steamed out to Schillig Roads for a four-day stretch of picket duty, followed on the 28th by a brief ceremony raising Vizeadmiral Franz von Hipper’s flag aboard. Lutzow would serve as flagship, 1st Scouting Group, for the remainder of her brief but eventful career. Later that day, orders came down from Vizeadmiral Scheer for all units to assemble on their buoys in Schillig Roads, to raise and maintain steam, and to be ready for action from midnight. Around 15:30, the big cruiser cast off and steered out to Schillig Roads, making fast to tactical buoy A-5. Most of the following day, 29 May, was involved in making the ship ready for whatever orders were to come. The crew was fed three hot meals during the day, and their regular beer ration was issued, but only part of their day could be considered “a day of rest”. Lutzow’s officers and petty officers went round the ship, checking their stations, seeing to “ready” supplies, medical stores, and sealing watertight compartments that would not be used in the coming days. On 30 May, full watches of stokers and trimmers were detailed to the boiler rooms and the engineering watches were laid-on. Officers and petty officers went about the ship double-checking battle stations while the ship’s galleys laid on three hearty meals with an extra beer ration in the evening. Later that night, officers took the opportunity to shave and change their shirts, for none knew when they might get another chance. Once the squadron had put to sea, their cabins aft would have the portholes sealed, blacked-out, and dogged – and their watertight doors would be closed and sealed against flooding in case of damage. During a wartime operation there would be little sleep for officers – and that was only allowed in the Infirmary. By 02:00 on Wednesday 31 May, 1916, the weather – hardly good to start with – had worsened. Clouds hung low over the sea and belts of rain blew in from the north-northwest adding to the discomfort of the officers and crew closed up at their sailing stations. Hipper stood motionless on the bridge wing, staring into the darkness, a scarf tucked into the turned-up collar of his leather great coat to keep the rain out. The light cruisers and torpedo boats of the 2nd Scouting Group had just steamed down the Jade channel, their wakes still roiling and bright. They would form the advance scouting line for the battlecruisers of the 1st Scouting Group. Hipper turned and nodded to his Signal Officer and Kapitan Harder. The signal lamps flashed back along the line of moored ships and they came to life. Lutzow slipped her buoy and the port turbines roared into operation as she sheered to starboard into the Jade channel. Speed was increased to 18 knots, stirring up the muddy bottom, and Lutzow led the way to the open sea – followed by Derfflinger (Kapitan Hartog), Seydlitz (Kapitan von Egidy), Moltke (Kapitan von Karpf), and Von der Tann (Kapitan Zenker). The next 36 hours would be etched into the minds of thousands of men for the rest of their lives. AND – there I must leave SMS Lutzow, but there will be more of her later. For the moment, we have introduced all the characters. It only remains to present the “play”…… NEXT TIME…… THE BEST LAID PLANS… 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: 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