Internal priorities would have counted against any capital ship continuation. With the quick finish hulls completed any advantage one or two more capital ships offered would be limited in the situation facing the HSF. Better returns were possible by prioritizing the U-boat fleet IRL and I don't see anything to alter this assessment. Since the 5BS is marginal to this narrative I didn't actually specifically think of any particular one. If I had to be pedantically accurate, I'd have to go check the historic records.
Alternate Battle of Jutland - 1916 (The Battle of the Battlecruisers.)
- Thread starter Tangles2
- Start date
Coulsdon Eagle
Monthly Donor
Hi Tangles2,
Enjoying the timeline despite the RN taking a pasting. Although it appears one-sided it is IMHO a realistic possibility given Beatty's force is less 5BS in exchange for 3 Invincibles / Indefatigables. Why is the poor old Indefatigable always doomed? remember one wargame where she sunk Goeben in the Med - far better!
Did the RN learn nothing about the destruction of Inflexible at Stanley?
Enjoying the timeline despite the RN taking a pasting. Although it appears one-sided it is IMHO a realistic possibility given Beatty's force is less 5BS in exchange for 3 Invincibles / Indefatigables. Why is the poor old Indefatigable always doomed? remember one wargame where she sunk Goeben in the Med - far better!
Did the RN learn nothing about the destruction of Inflexible at Stanley?
The pendulum of battle will turn. Good AH still reflects basic fundamentals, one of which I believe in is 'God marches with the big battalions'. Obvious force mismatches will impact on the field of battle (soon to be shown). This can be subverted by things like good/bad leadership etc, (which is usually recognized at the time), yet it remains fundamental if the yarn is to remain believable. IOTL Jutland the subverting factor was the poor munitions security of the RN impacting on losses. Given parity of this it was quite possible for Jutland IOTL to have been one BC apiece, Queen Mary v. Lutzow, had the RN had the same procedures as the HSF, yet it was only by luck that Lion avoided the fate of the other 3 BC. I have run with this failure in the narrative, but it is still founded in the historical fact, not purely RN bashing.
For the Stanley comment I would say in context yes, it was very possible. ITTL it is a one-two sucker punch, Coronel then Stanley, to a moribund huge service after over a century of no major conflict, and barely weeks into a war with a modern opponent. The institutional inertia would be immense to protect the prestige of the service. With a convenient scapegoat in Sturdee and the destruction of the East-Asia squadron it is quite probable in those circumstances that any post-mortem would be lacking in 'rigor' shall we say. Just look at the failure to address the issues Dogger Bank raised in 1915 and it is easy to see a similar attitude to Stanley. It was only after the IRL Jutland failures that parallels would actually be drawn, and with that 'victory' even then the changes were slow to be adapted.
6. The Screens collide and end of contact
Part Six
1736, 22 July 1916, HMS Southampton, North Sea, 220 miles from Rosyth
Rear Admiral Napier was quite happy wearing two hats, being both the commander of the 3rd Light Cruiser Squadron, and senior officer commanding the entire screen of the 1st BCF, which in effect totaled 13 Light cruisers and a total of 24 destroyers. In the months of his command, they had drilled and worked together, and the challenge represented one of the most satisfying periods of his life. But all the preparation and training in the world had become victim of the other great timeless navy truism, no plan survives contact with the enemy. Quite frankly as commander of the screen he was having a bad day, and his sour mood at the moment reflected it.
From the moment of the contact with the extreme edge of the screen events had seemingly conspired to create factors to disorganize his screen. The initial contact had collapsed the ships on that flank towards the fight, and the vicious little engagement had further disorganized the sections involved. By the time both sides had broken contact he had not only lost a destroyer, but the dense low smoke and rapid interplaying of small ships in melee had broken the formations up, not to mention causing damaged ships to fall out of action. This followed by the Battlecruiser force reversing course and then the second course change by Beatty had left the vast majority of the screen badly out of position, trailing the battle line instead of being ahead to do its job, and be best positioned to intervene for defence or attack. With only a few knots advantage it had taken far too long for the screen to regain a leading position, not helped by receiving the order "Destroyers clear the line of fire!". This had basically forced his ships to essentially follow three sides of a square in regaining the lead whilst moving up the western disengaged side of the battleline. Then firstly the Australia being forced out of the line, followed unbelievably by the loss of three battle cruisers, had obliged him to leave ships in each case for support or rescue duties.
Finally, barely half an hour ago, he had mustered the remaining balance of his screen and was in a position to attack at last. Looking through his glasses he could see the forces of the enemy screen in the van of their formation. These were the ships that he would engage, and in his mind, was assessing what he was seeing. Even having left ships to support stragglers, there still remained well over twenty torpedo boats there. Individually smaller and more lightly armed than his ships, he had only about 3/4 of his original destroyer force in hand. More powerful individually but offset by their number it would be a roughly equal battle. What he had was his three squadrons of light cruisers, and to his eye there where at most 4-5 to oppose his baker's dozen. This was the hammer to crack the defense, and if he committed his entire force then he was sure that he could get two or three of their big ships if he employed the screen en-masse.
Increasing further his foul mood, carefully hidden behind his calm exterior, his professionalism was battling with a profound dissatisfaction. Partly this was the events of the day, the screening issues and the losses already suffered, and partly was his current inactivity. He could see the enemy, and was in a prime position to inflict damage on them, but Admiral Hood had ordered him to wait for now. He could only watch and wait in anticipation, and could feel the anger and eagerness on his bridge. The Royal Navy as an institute was not used to coming off second best, and for all that events had not gone their way to date, He was certain that there wasn’t a single matelot in the screen who wasn't eager and champing to reverse that fact. This intense focus was snapped abruptly by an aghast call, "Sir, the flagships blown up." Causing him to spin around in shock once more, to confirm with his own eyes despite his disbelief. For some 30-40 seconds he just stood, staring, initially too surprised in conflicted disbelief to organise his thoughts coherently at first, before the logical portion took control and recognised that he was now the one in the box seat, scanning the disrupted battleline behind and the visible dispositions across to the enemy. The chain of command was clear in the Battlecruiser force, Rear Admiral de Brock was in command of the 1BCS, now reduced to the sole ship, HMS Princess Royale at the head of the line, and was his junior. While controlling the Battlecruiser force, his promotion was only recent and up until May 1915, he had actually been the previous Captain of Princess Royal itself.
Overall command was now his, and experience and professional instincts made him pause for a further moment, analyzing if it was workable or just his instinct to lash out at the losses endured, before after a brief nod to himself, turned to his flag Yeoman on the bridge of HMS Falmouth and said, "Get a radio signal out to the Grand Fleet and 5BS with an update and advice I am attacking." Evan as he could hear the growl of approval from those around him, he added, "General signal to the screen, all ships: general attack - torpedo," and added as an aftermath to the surrounding bridge personnel, "Let loose the dogs of war," with a tight grin.
1742 22 June 1916, Skagerrak, North Sea, 250 nautical miles from Rosyth
Konteradmiral Friedrich Boedecker’s IInd Scouting Group had reformed ahead of the Hipper's battle cruisers fairly quickly after the initial contact melee at the start of the action. This job made easy by the few heading changes during the slugging match that had developed between the capital ships of the two forces behind him. He had been forced to detach several of his torpedo boats to provide support for the lagging Vonn der Tann and Seydlitz, but still had over two dozen available in support of the four light cruisers under his command. He had watched with increasing foreboding as the British screen had steadily reformed ahead of their line opposite. For the last half an hour or so they had just paced his own forces, visible across the dozen kilometres separating them, and he could see they had three times the cruiser force he had, just hovering forbiddingly. For all he had an edge in numbers of smaller vessels, he was at a loss as to why they had not attacked before now. Even the most partisan of officers of the Imperial German Navy had never accused the Royal Navy of timidity, and the longer he had studied the serried lines of cruisers and destroyers shaken out opposite him, the greater the tension had built in his own mind, simply waiting for them to act. When they did, he knew his own forces were going to be stretched to the limit to respond, and the analytical part of his training already indicated that the odds would be badly against him. The destruction of a fourth enemy battlecruiser was a passing distraction, preoccupied as he was with anticipation of whatever the opposing screen might do. So, when at 1754, he saw the entire leading force swinging in to lunge towards Hipper's ships it actually came as a relief from the rising tension. Even as he was giving the orders to martial his own forces to counter attack and interpose themselves between the lines. A distant small distracted part of his mind, briefly mused if the delay had been deliberate, simply to evoke the tension felt before committing to attack, as he and the ships and men under his command steeled themselves for what was undoubtedly going to be a bloody and brutal confrontation. This distraction was lost as the first shots began arriving and he committed himself fully to the chaos of battle unfolding.
1741, 22 July 1916, HMS Narborough, 13th Destroyer Flotilla, North Sea.
LT Reginal Barlow was still a comparative rarity in the RN, being a Royal Naval Reserve officer from P&O and not a regular, and now acting as an Executive Officer on a M-class Destroyer. Having initially been a freshly appointed 3rd officer on the British India Steam Navigation cargo-liner Bankura in 1913, he had followed the practice of most of British officers of the major Royal Mail Ship navigation companies by joining the Royal Navy Reserve. He had made only a single cruise to Asia by 1914 when the company had amalgamated with P&O, and on the outbreak of war volunteered to serve with the tacit encouragement of his employers. Initially posted as a Sub-lieutenant to a destroyer of the Harwich Patrol and had found he thrived in the active role, despite the hard lying conditions. His basic competence and youthful enthusiasm for the job had seen him promoted to LT, and by early 1916 he was posted as exec of the Narborough. Initially part of the Grand Fleet based at Scapa Flow he had found the lack of action, not to mention the freezing cold, incredibly boring and had thrown himself into his job. Fortunately, in May Narborough was transferred to the 10th Destroyer Force to be part of the screen of the Battlecruiser force based out of Rosyth, much to the pleasure of both himself and the rest of the ship's crew.
The day had initially looked like being a repeat of the earlier uneventful May sortie, up until shortly after noon, when a sighting of smoke to the east by Obdurate, one of the Narborough half-section had triggered a brief but confusing action with a number of German torpedo boats. Last ship in line, Narborough had followed its three sisters into action, with 'Reggie' in his usual action station with the rear 4-inch gun.
In the subsequent brief but fierce action, charging through a confused melee in the low obscuring fog of smoke, left by the wild interweaving of ships in the largely calm conditions, she had become separated from their companions. In the midst of a flurry of sudden short-range exchanges as ships appeared and disappeared at random, whilst trying to identify and engage targets, he had heard a detonation forward and felt a sharp shudder underfoot, he knew the ship had been hit as it suddenly veered sharply away to port. Leaving the gun to the mount petty officer in charge, he was rushing forward and fearing the worst when he was met by a runner at the forward funnel, with the news that the bridge had been hit and the captain was down. He arrived to find three still bodies and learned that a small calibre shell had burst directly under the tiny bridge causing casualties and disabling the forward 4-inch mount. By the time he had regained control the ship had already completed two full circuits through several bands of smoke and he found he had no idea where he was or the location of the rest of his half-section or the enemy. Still moving at over 25 knots and peering ahead he thought he could see a ship ahead heading east and, thinking it most possibly one of their own followed it. Only a few moments later they burst out into clearer conditions, and to the sudden realisation that they were taking station at the rear of a line of three or four German ships just a few cables ahead. The abrupt reversal of their course rapidly back into the smoke had also awoken the Germans to the fact that Narborough was not one of their own, and it was pursued by shells as disappeared back into the mirk.
After breaking north and then back west for some minutes the Narborough had emerged some quarter of an hour later to find itself in seeming isolation with startlingly not another ship in immediate sight. With his radio destroyed, and only a generalised idea of his location, he elected to follow the distant smoke cloud on the horizon to the south. As they closed on the smoke it resolved into another ongoing action, eventually revealed as the battlecruiser Australia, accompanied by two destroyers, exchanging fire with a German battlecruiser, also with a pair of escorts. Challenged by HMS Turbulent his response had been the ships number followed by: "Captain dead, no Comms, permission to join." With the brief confirmation, Narborough had fallen in behind the trailing HMS Termagant, and for the next period of time the three had acted as screen to the Australia, whilst being spectators to the slow relentless exchange as both battling ships were each hit several times, damage increasing and guns falling silent. At 1755 he saw the signal run up the Turbulent mast, "General Signal: Torpedo attack, conform." flying for some seconds while its two companions acknowledge, then with the dip of execute, all three turned towards the distant Vonn Der Tann.
On the bridge of Narborough, despite the mute evidence of the silent gun on the foredeck before him, Barlow felt an intense excitement at being in command as his ship drove forward to attack the enemy battlecruiser. The larger and faster T-class ships ahead of him slowly opened a slight gap and he could see two German ships curving to intercept their thrust short of its target. With events developing rapidly as the ships closed, he altered Narborough’s heading slightly to use the others funnel smoke to mask his own approach, as the guns of the five converging vessels were firing rapidly as the range shortened. Even as this was happening, he caught the surprised report from his signalman, "Australia's also closing sir!" A quick glance over his shoulder confirmed that the battlecruiser had also swung to port and was now acting like some oversized destroyer, charging on a sharply closing bearing to the limping smoke shrouded German ship ahead. With a wild laugh he couldn't help but respond, "The more the Merrier, flags!" before concentrating on the task in hand. Ahead he could see first one, then a second hit on the Turbulent, and the flash of another on the Termagant, but perhaps, due to the smoke and separation, for the moment no one seemed to be actually firing at the wildly charging Narborough. His own guns, their arcs opened by the course change, were now firing as well, and he nodded with satisfaction seeing a flare blossom on the lead Torpedo boat. Again, his ship seemed to be enveloped in a brief shroud of concealing funnel smoke, before suddenly breaking into the open exposing a plodding, Vonn der Tann, broadside on and hardly moving at less than 10 knots, "target Battleship to Port, engage as bearing, He shouted out to his sole Sub-lieutenant now at the tubes. "Hard a-starboard he ordered the Coxswain, as the range dropped to under 4,000 yards, clinging to the bridge screen as the ship heeled sharply with the radical turn. For the first time the Vonn der Tann seemed to recognise its threat and one or two of its secondary armament began throwing shells in their direction, but too few and far too late. As the ship swung upright, he could hear the thump one after another as the four torpedoes leapt into the water. Even as another radical turn sought to escape danger, his eyes remained rivetted on the target. At first nothing as the ship ploughed on seemingly unaware of its danger, but finally sluggishly it seemed, he could see a slight bearing change of its bow as it sluggishly began to turn. Unconsciously he found himself softly muttering, "Come on…, come on…," until unbelievingly first one then another huge spout arose from the Vonn der Tann's stern quarter. "Yes!" he couldn't stop a jubilant bark, and giving a brief un-officer like hop, before getting himself under control, then realising it had been lost in the general crowing, as an equally joyous roar of euphoria swept his ship, even as it began wildly changing course in withdrawal. His successful actions during the day would subsequently earn him a DSO and ensure him senior command with P&O in the future, and unbeknown to him eventually a carrier command in the Second World War.
1744, 22 June 1916, SMS Von der Tann, North Sea,
Kapitan zur See Hans Zenker, Captain of the Battlecruiser Von der Tann had long known is beautiful ship was increasingly in trouble. Laid down in 1907, she represented Germany's first attempt at designing a ship to meet the modern battlecruiser concept. Her very success and durability reflected the intensity and amount thought that had gone into the initial work to conceptualise her design. But despite this success she still represented the oldest and smallest of the modern German battlecruisers, being barely two-thirds the size of later ships. So, despite the excellence of her design, she still simply lacked the mass to absorb the degree of punishment of the others and was the most susceptible of the to the steady accumulation of damage inherent in any long slugging match.
The action had started well with the rapid and effective fire initially knocking an Indefatigable class ship out of the line, if only temporarily as it occurred. But despite continued hits on the opposition, the simple fact that she occupied the tail position against more numerous foes, ensured that multiple opponents engaged her when she could only effectively reply to one. The British ships had each picked an opponent at the start of the action, but that had translated into initially three ships and later two in the British line all firing at his own. By the time the destruction of two Royal Navy heavy ships, had reduced it to a one-on-one contest, the Vonn der Tann had already suffered significant damage as a result. At this point his ship had now been hit 12 times, with Both Anton and Dora turret on the disengaged side out of action. Anton turret was burnt out from a direct hit. Dora turret had been penetrated through its thin rear armour and thought the shell had failed to detonate it had killed or injured most of its crew and the shock from a shell impacting the barbette had jammed it. Bruno turret on the engaged side had suffered damage to one recoil mechanism, whether due to a near miss or the simple shock of the ship firing its main armament so regularly was not known as yet. She was down to two turrets, one firing at reduced rate, and both firing under local control as another hit had destroyed the main rangefinder.
Another shell from the same salvo that had wrecked Dora turret had impacted the after funnel and causing the ship to lose speed. For a while it had dropped out of engagement by an opponent. But as it fell further back, separated from Hipper's main battle line, it found itself once more exchanging blows with the Australia, similarly lagging from the British line due to its earlier damage. Again, hits began to accrue and despite his crew’s best efforts to keep her in action. Everywhere it seemed, a struggle against the incursions of fire and water was being waged. A shell had pitched short near the stern, flooding an after-boiler room and filling the ship with hundreds of tons of seawater. By now her speed was down to less than fourteen knots and reducing further as she wallowed deeper in the water. She had struck her opponent at least five times in the most recent exchange as the range had reduced leaving her afire in two places but in turn lost Bruno turret, so now only Caesar, the aft turret continued to fire back. Her opponent, while continuing to burn fiercely aft, never ceased to return fire with regular reduced four-gun salvo's. Captain Zanker now feared the worst but would continue to fight back while he effectively could regardless.
At 1745, shortly after another eruption in the distant ongoing exchange ahead, what he feared most came into reality. Suddenly he could see destroyers bearing down on his struggling ship, obviously intending to attack. Even as the two accompanying torpedo boats V248 and V189 moved to interpose, he could see the Australia, also now swinging about to close. With few of his secondary guns still in action, and all her former lithe speed robbed, he knew what was about to happen. Even as he spied a new threat emerged from the smoke, Von der Tann suffered yet another hit from the closing Australia that fully detonated against the base of the rear funnel. Her deck, already weakened by the earlier hits and unarmoured funnel, partially collapsed into the hole, and forcing the crew out of the machinery spaces. Even as the ship lost power, he could see the destroyer launched threat closing. Despite her helm being hard over and her bow swinging oh-so-slowly, he knew the effort would prove futile. First one, and then a second struck her after quarter, sending mast height spouts into the sky and penetrating the hull. Already Lamed and with an enormous cloud of smoke emanating from her, her shafts warped and rudder jammed she now slowly sagged to port as she coasted to a stop. As hundreds of tons of additional water now surged into the gaping holes below her waterline, she steadily began to list to starboard, her stern obviously rapidly filling. Without power to fight the flooding Zenker gave the inevitable order to abandon ship and with her guns now silent, her crew commenced to swarm upon deck, casting buoyant objects into the calm seas as she slowly coasted to a halt. Nearby, both her escorts also succumbing after their futile efforts at protection, would be soon joined by HMS Termagant in sliding below the waves.
With the command "All hands. Abandon ship" given at 1816 it was all Kapitan zur See Zenker could do was watch and await the final plunge of his beloved Von Der Tann. Already he could see that the Australia had ceased fire and was circling at a distance, topsides now sparsely crowding with observers despite a still smouldering fire in its stern superstructure. He stood contemplating as crewmembers took to the water as the remaining two British destroyers closed in to recover survivors of both sides. There was nothing more that could be done here he sighed; his ship had fought to it's last. No ship built of metal could withstand such an onslaught, yet Vonn der Tann had for so long. For all that, there were limits and it was now time to save his brave crew, that integral ships portion not made of metal. They had done all that could reasonably expected and more, and whatever the result of the action it was time to ensure the escape of as many as possible. It was to take nearly a further half hour before standing soaked on the deck of HMS Narborough, tears streaming unnoticed down his cheeks and surrounded on its massively over-crowded deck by recovered sailors all watching the final moments of his lovely command. Ever lady like she had briefly straightened upright before settling slowly stern first before finally slipping with little fuss beneath the surface of the North Sea, taking 303 of her 923 officers and crew with her.
1742 21 July 1916, HMNS Australia, North Sea
Despite its best efforts it had proved that the Australia had lacked the necessary knot or two or speed to successfully close with the rest of the Battlecruiser Force, and the long run south had not offered any opportunities for the Australia to cut a corner and close. This had resulted in her being a distant spectator initially, watching in futility the ongoing exchanges now nearly six nautical miles ahead. But gradually their initial opponent, the Vonn der Tann at the rear of the German line had begun to steadily drop back, obviously damaged in some way and losing speed.
The long slow approach had been both depressing and disturbing, watching the carnage on the distant line, and for all that another German ship was clearly in distress and also lagging, it was small comfort for the losses seen. As the range dropped to about 15,000 yds the Vonn der Tann opened, fire and a moment later Australia responded, both sides firing only four guns at this range due to the earlier damage. What followed was reflection of the slugging match ahead only conducted on a smaller scale. Learning from the initial exchange, Captain Radcliffe had moved to the Australia's armoured conning tower, trading the limited vision through its slits for the safety of its 10-inches of armour. This proved prudent for by the time the range had dropped, both had hit their opponent nearly half a dozen times, including one stunning hit on the tower itself, which fortunately failed to penetrate. How long this would have continued is unknown when at 1734 the screen attack commenced.
With his ears still ringing from the recent hit, Captain Radcliffe did not at first hear the shout from his signals Yeoman. "Sir, Sir, Termagant's sending a general signal. What is it saying?" he queried. Since the second hit of the action had carried away the aerials along with Australia' rear topmast, Captain Radcliffe had been reduced to flags signals, with no way to restore radio communications. "Sir, Signal reads; Repeat: All ships, General attack - Torpedo." he paused and even as he looked at the lead ship of the three accompanying destroyers, he could see the flags dip in command; execute. As he watched they all began to swing to port, smoke surging from their funnels as they accelerated to close on the Vonn der Tann. With this sight and the briefest pause of consideration, be damned if he had any torpedoes, before he stated loudly to the bridge, "Right…, Bugger this for lark. Let's join the dance." as he gave the order, "Hard a-port coxswain, ships heading to follow the destroyers and close with the enemy." Unknown to himself, even as the shared growl of agreement swept the bridge, he had just forever earned his service moniker. For the rest of his life, the lower decks of Nieustralis ships would refer to him as "Bugger-this Radcliffe" thanks to this moment.
The Australia would close too within 5,000 yards in the following action, receiving a further damaging hit, even as two torpedoes would score the coup-de-gras upon the struggling Vonn der Tann, before circling briefly as the Turbulent and Narborough, the only two survivors of the five escorts involved in their own vicious little melee that the attack on Vonn der Tann had provoked. He could not stop to pick up casualties himself, as the risk was too great for the Australia. Even as he was doing this, he had returned to the flying bridge above the conning tower, not so much to observe the death-throes of the Vonn der Tann, but rather better observe the results of the confused distant action ongoing some miles still to the south as a result of the general attack there. With a spreading cloud of smoke obscuring the increasing disarray of that tactical picture, he needed a better idea of what was happening to decide his next action.
Extract from "Great Sea Battles", William Koening, Abracadabra Press, 1979
The loss of Admiral Hood and the Indefatigable, would trigger a rapid cascade of actions in a relatively short timeframe and, in concurrence with several external events, cause a major transformation in the whole shape of the battle. Up until this point the action bore a remarkable similarity to naval actions since the days of sail, if only conducted at a range of thousands of meters instead of gunshot. Two forces in single file on parallel courses, pounding each other with fire power to overwhelm the opponent. That the German force despite its fewer numbers getting the better of the exchange being the most notable feature of this phase of the action.
The first trigger to this dynamic change was the launching of a general attack by the British screening force, under the commanded by the senior surviving Flag Officer at that point, Rear Admiral Napier of the 3rd Light Cruiser squadron (3LCS). That this force had been in position ahead of the line, but held by direction for at least half an hour. With the removal of Hood and the Germans now having four battlecruisers to three, was the impetus for his order for a general torpedo attack. This forced the German Screen under Konteradmiral Boedecker to interpose, resulting in a violent confused action between the two lines and significant casualties for both sides, including the screen commanders of both forces. The nature of two screens would have a significant impact on the outcome of the melee. Though more numerous (24 to 18) the German torpedo boats were on the whole smaller and lighter than the British destroyers, with a shorter-range torpedo armament. Both screens had light cruiser support, but here the British significantly outnumbered their opponents, 13 to 4. This factor would be the telling edge that enabled the success of the British attack, with the additional weight of fire enabling the British destroyers to break through, but at great cost. The differing targeting priorities would also tell in this action, with the British screen concentrating on Hipper's battlecruisers while the German torpedo boats prioritised the British light cruisers supporting their destroyer's attack. Though unable to reach the British battlecruisers, the shorter ranged German torpedoes proved sufficient to eventually torpedo and sink four of the attacking light cruisers in their attempts to blunt the British thrust, as these pressed forward to support their own attack.
The final result would be that the Germans would lose all four of the light cruisers in their screen, while the British would eventually lose five, losing HMS Galatea of the 1LCS and its Commodore Alexander-Sinclair to defensive fire and have two more very badly damaged. But this would enable the British destroyers to achieve positions to prosecute their torpedo attacks on the German Battlecruisers. The end result would be a single torpedo hit on the bow of the Lutzow, while the largely isolated and struggling Seydlitz was hit twice, sealing its fate, while forcing the remaining battlecruisers to turn away avoiding the attack.
The timing and rationale of the withdrawal would prove to be of some propaganda significance post battle. That both sides pressed their attacks with great valour and the resultant severity of the action was reflected in the heavy losses on the escorts of both sides. The German losses being eleven torpedo-boats to the British eight destroyers (including the losses in the separate Von Der Tann action). The commanders of both screens would die (Admiral Napier of wound complications some 11 days after the action) along with Commodore Alexander-Sinclair of the British 1st Light Cruiser Squadron (1LCS). By the end of the action of the eight British Flag officers (Commodore Rank or above) who had sailed from Rosyth in the Battlecruiser Force that morning, only Rear Admiral de Brock of the 1BCS on the Princess Royal and Commodore Goodenough of the 2LCS would remain in a position to exercise command at the end of the battle.
Even as this action reached its peak, an event of pivotal significance was occurring some miles to the north of this action. In the initial contact melee, one of the damaged British destroyers in the action, HMS Obdurate, had broken contact and withdrawn before suffering an engineering failure. Damaged and having lost several officers it lagged behind before being forced to halt to repair broken steam lines. At this point it was stationary for over an hour before getting underway again, and had lost contact with the main force. Barely making five knots and unable to chase the Battlecruiser Force, surviving crew later reported that the senior surviving officer, Sub-Lieutenant Clarke, elected to head north to rendezvous with the closing forces of the 5BS, as this provided the shortest timeframe to reach support. Unbeknownst to him this would place the unfortunate Obdurate directly in the middle of the gap Admiral Scheer and the High Seas Fleet was intending to bisect between the two British forces the Zeppelin force had reported. What he may have thought as the full force of German fleet appeared over the horizon can be guessed. Nevertheless, before the German screen would roll over and sank the Obdurate (23 of the crew would be recovered by the German screen) it had sufficient time to radio a sighting report at 1755, detailing for the first time for the British the presence and heading of the main HSF as the enemy force.
This report had a galvanizing effect on the subsequent actions and was the first concrete news the British had received that the full force of the High Seas fleet was out. With this notification, both the Grand Fleet and 5BS, now some 45 and 25 miles respectively north of the reported position, would accelerate to full speed to close on the Battlecruiser Force, now obviously at severe risk of being cut off. For Admiral de Brock, now in command of that force, found himself faced with a number of unpalatable decisions. He would later be best remembered for his earlier remark during the battle to his Flag Captain WH Cowan after the destruction of HMS Invincible, which was to become the iconic quote of the battle. At the time he is said to have turned to his flag captain and said, "there seems to be something wrong with our bloody ships today."(6) His Post-action report revealed that his planned intent was to remain in contact, continuing to deploy his three surviving battlecruisers under command to best effect once the results of the torpedo attack by the screening elements were clarified. The news that a major force had interposed itself between his nearest support and was positioned to possibly cut off the withdrawal route of his force and in effect pin it between the two German forces, burst upon him like a thunderclap. The result was that at 1800 he ordered his force to break contact and withdraw on a WSW bearing. His post-action report would reveal a tactically sound justification and his rapid analysis in the heat of battle that his action would avoid it being enveloped between two forces, and that if the enemy pursued, it would in turn expose the High Seas Fleet to the risk of being cutoff if it continued pursuit. What would become of greater significance in following days was the specific timing of this action and the general perception and propaganda value that resulted.
For Admiral Hipper, the immediate threat was the impact of the developing British torpedo attack which threatened to overwhelm his own screen and the damaged capabilities of his own large ships to effectively defend against this. Postwar analysis would reveal he had ordered his forces to disengage and turn away at the almost identical time as Admiral de Brock. In event the main German line would not visibly turn onto an ESE heading until 1805, a gap of several minutes after the British. Beyond the impact of torpedo hits on Lutzow and Seydlitz, for propaganda purposes the delay would play a distinct role in the public perception of the engagement in the subsequent aftermath.
At this point it is necessary to remember that the Lutzow, Hipper's flagship, had already taken a tremendous pounding in receiving over 25 large-calibre hits, several very recently, yet was astonishingly still at the head of the formation and maintaining a speed of twenty knots. The scale of damage had resulted in general destruction of much of the upper works, including aerials, signals halyards and lights. Wireless telegraphy was in use, though their fragility and the limitation of the radio sets made their extensive use more problematic particularly in this extreme situation. Thus, most command signals were made with flags or signal lamps between ships, with the flagship was usually placed at the head so its signals might be more easily seen by the many ships of the formation. It could, even in the best of circumstances, (which this clearly was not), take a time for a signal from the flagship to be relayed to the entire formation. In a large single-column formation, a signal could take 10 minutes or more to be passed, with limited visibility from smoke on top of battle damage acting to delay the probability that a message would be quickly seen and correctly interpreted. In this case, that it was actioned in this time frame would likely indicate that both commanders had given the command to turn away virtually simultaneously, with the battle situation delaying its implementation far more noticeably for the Germans.
This disengagement would mark the end of the major surface action between combatants for the action, though a number of significant events would still occur.
1828 22 July 1916, SMS Friedrich der Grosse; Flagship HSF, North Sea
As the report of the encounter with a British Destroyer arrived and his own transmission office on his flagship confirmed news of it radioing his location, Scheer found himself grimacing. Jellico would now know he was out and his location. He had hoped for another half-hour to get even further west and improve his position to isolate Beatty's force but so be it. He was in a position to trap a portion of the Grand Fleet at all, and while not an optimist by nature, he could now come to Hipper's support, trapping the British between his two forces. With Zeppelin's reports providing an accurate idea of his opponent's location and size, he gave the order to for the High Seas Fleet was change heading to the south west behind the British and increase speed to its maximum 21 knots. With the battlecruiser force cut off it was almost certain that the five reported dreadnaughts to his north would engage his force, even with an open withdrawal route available. No Royal Naval commander could not help but move to the sound of the guns, especially when it was to support a hard-pressed compatriot. He had placed his heaviest hitters in his northern column of his force to engage such a response. With his own strength of numbers and ideal situation was developing to destroy a significant portion of the British Grand Fleet elements involved, and reward the sacrifices of Hipper's force.
All these considerations would be rendered mute at 1803 when his communication officer, scrambled onto his bridge with the news he had subtlety been dreading all day arrived. The Grand Fleet, with thirty plus dreadnaughts, had been sighted by Zeppelin L-17, position some 40 miles to the north and closing. This report was to prove a pivotal turning point, not only in the immediate tactical situation, but its eventual long-term impact on the wider scope of naval actions in the war. The Zeppelin force had been critical in its provision of reconnaissance reports, providing Scheer a much more accurate tactical picture of the location of the British forces, whilst the British had largely remained in ignorance of anything beyond direct visual distance. This had enabled Scheer to deploy his forces to reach the position it was in, poised to attack, when at long last one of the airships located to the north for just this reason sent an electrifying sighting report. The news that the entire Grand Fleet was out, with a far greater dreadnaught strength than his own, was barely 40 miles distant and closing was a blow to the gut of Admiral Scheer.
Facing an agonizing decision, Scheer would maintain this course for another eight minutes, confirming details, and receiving an update on the status of Hipper's forces. Also reported, the presence of a battlecruiser and light forces some miles closer to the north of the British battlecruiser force. This was in fact the Australia, now well separated from the main body of the remaining BCF and some elements of the dispersed screen that had joined it in the aftermath of the torpedo attack. The news of the loss of two of Hipper's force, and that it was withdrawing with damaged ships slowing it, forced him to accept the unpleasant realities now facing him. Even as the mastheads of the 1st Cruiser Squadron ahead of the 5BS, appeared over the horizon, he reluctantly accepted that the opportunity for victory, so tantalisingly present a brief few moments before, was now receding and gave the order for the High Seas Fleet to turn away.
Far beyond the immediate reality of turning to the south-east and being in a position to cover the withdrawal of Hipper's damaged and struggling force, this was to prove the decisively pivotal moment for the conduct of operations between the two navies for the remainder of the war. While conforming to the spirit of the Kaisers directive to preserve the fleet, it also came to represent recognition that the High Seas Fleet was simply not strong enough to confront the full force of the Grand Fleet in a direct engagement. The long-term implications for the morale of the High Seas Fleet were little realized at this time, but the effect of turning away at the very moment the enemy came into sight was to be profound.
Postwar analysis of his diary and correspondence interestingly revealed how stricken he was by this decision, recognizing the significance of this moment and that it was the report of the lagging Australia group which was the final influence on his decision to avoid action. He would write of this shortly after, likening it to 'some wounded lure trailed in front of my face, in order to entice me to combat.' Unable to contact Hipper aboard Lutzow and unaware that Hipper flagship was no longer capable of receiving radio communication. He was aware his ships would have sufficient leeway to make their own escape, provided he was not required to shepherd slower elements back to the Jade. For this reason, he would skillfully reposition his own screen during withdrawal to be able engage any attempt by the 5BS, now distantly visible on the horizon and intent on closing, to engage and create stragglers for the Grand Fleet to catch in pursuit. Evan-Thomas did close to visual distance but lacked sufficient screen of his own to oppose the size of Scheer's light forces interposed and prudently elected not to press the pursuit. Once Australia and the remaining battlecruiser forces consolidated some 20 miles to the west, would join them later that evening as they withdrew.
For Hipper, the withdrawal was to prove far more challenging. During the torpedo attack that forced his turn-away, his screen had laid smoke to obscure it. This proved largely effective but for the two vessels at the head and rear of the line, Lutzow and Seydlitz.
This smoke proved of scant assistance to the badly lagging Seydlitz. By this stage Seydlitz had been hit 21 times by large-caliber shells and had no main armament operational, and already suffered over 150 crew killed or wounded. Moving now at less than ten knots, she was in a critical condition; having already been flooded with over 5,000 tons of water, and the bow was nearly completely submerged. Only the very calm sea state and buoyancy that remained in the forward section of the ship was the broadside torpedo room keeping her afloat. Even as the attack had developed preparations were being made to evacuate the wounded crew. Exposed and a sitting target she would take two torpedoes' hits forward, destroying what little hull integrity and buoyancy that remained. Clearly doomed the order to abandon was given, and Torpedo-boats G42, and G85 came alongside to evacuate casualties and the crew. With remarkably little fuss, she would soon join the Vonn der Tann, slowly dipping her bow below the waves and finally disappearing at 1857, the last of the capital ships lost this day and taking 333 of her 1,072 crew with her.
Being at the head of the German line Lutzow had been trading fire with the heaviest armed of their British opponents for the entire action, and had suffered accordingly. By the time the British torpedo attack had commenced she had been hit 24 times by British heavy-caliber shells. In particular during the preceding 20 minutes, Lützow was struck in quick succession by four heavy-caliber shells. One pierced the ship's Bruno turret and disabled it. The shell detonated a propellant charge and the right gun was destroyed. The second hit jammed the training gear of the Dora turret, while the remaining two struck midships, damaging the engines, and removing Hipper's ability to communicate with the squadron. Up until now the Lutzow amazingly had still been moving at 20 knots despite its previous damage, but now began to lose speed. With British destroyers sweeping in, V45 and G37 began laying a smoke screen between the battered ship and the British line, but were unable to prevent several from launching torpedoes. At this point Lutzow had been turning away already, and all missed ahead except one which struck the bow, just ahead of the start of the armoured belt.
With his flagship losing speed and was unable to keep up, combined with its inability now to communicate, Hipper elected to transfer his flag and G39 came alongside and took Hipper and his staff aboard, in order to transfer him to the next in line Derfflinger. Lützow had fired her last shot in the battle, and the smoke screen had successfully hidden her from the British line. By now its situation was remarkably similar to that of the Seydlitz earlier, speed dropping to reduce the pressure of the inflow as flooding in the forward part of the ship reached dangerous proportions.
The main difference was the greater buoyancy margin as Lutzow unlike the Seydlitz had not already been flooded with several thousand tons of water. As the other three ships withdrew to the southwest Lützow was steadily settling deeper into the sea. Only the developing mirror like calm of the sea was preventing waves washing onto the deck and into the forecastle. At midnight, there was still hope that the severely wounded Lützow could make it back to harbor, with the ship down to 7 knots with over 4,000 tons on water now on board. Only the continued operation of the forward main pumps was keeping the inflow in check.[7] Lützow was so low in the water by that point that the rare low swell would increasingly wash all the way over the deck up to the forward barbette. This caused water to enter the ship through the numerous shell and shrapnel holes in the forecastle area, and slowly worsening the flooding. Counter flooding was required as the bow became so submerged that the propellers were pulled partially out of the water and forward draft had increased to over 17 meters. So much water was aboard that she scraped over Horns Reef shortly before dawn, and reached the outer Jade River on the morning of 23 July. Such was the critical condition with the bow nearly completely submerged, and flooded by well over 5,000 tons of water, that there was great danger of capsizing. She was saved only by the timely arrival of a pair of pump steamers that were able to stabilize the flooding. On 3 July the ship entered Entrance III of the Wilhelmshaven Lock in what was a truly outstanding display of damage control by its crew. Not only was this a tribute to their extraordinary efforts, but also one to the fundamental toughness of its design. Despite this survival she had still suffered nearly 200 casualties in her crew, and the damage as so extensive that she would not return to service for nearly a year. The withdrawal of the battlecruisers would mark the end of the battle, and once aboard Derfflinger, Hipper transmitted a report to Scheer informing him of the tremendous damage his ships had suffered. By this time, Derfflinger, Hindenburg, and Moltke each had received over 20 large calibre hits, only had one or two turrets in operation, Moltke was flooded with 1,000 tons of water, and whilst all were remarkably still capable of 15-17 knots, Hipper reported: "I Scouting Group was therefore no longer of any value for a serious engagement, and it is my intent to return to harbor unless otherwise directed by the Commander-in-Chief." Scheer himself while following the withdrawal of the I Scouting Group, determined to await developments off Horns Reef with the battlefleet.
The final incidents of the engagement, beyond those revolving around the withdrawal of the damaged vessels and recovery of wounded and survivors of both sides, would be remarkably similar and due to the action of submarines. Acting as part of the gatekeeper force at the mouth of the Jade River the German Armored Cruiser Roon would be torpedoed and sunk by the submarine E-24 midmorning of the 23rd, causing Scheer to rethink his plans to linger. In much a similar fashion the Grand Fleet would lose the Armored Cruiser HMS Shannon approaching Scapa Flow late that afternoon, a victim of U-27. The final ship involved in the action to successfully reach harbor would be the British destroyer Pelican, with her bows blown off. Towed backward she would reach harbor on the 24th, marking the conclusion of the naval portion of the battle.
6. IRL this line was actually attributed to Vice-Admiral Beatty who is said to have turned to his Flag Captain Chatfield and said it immediately after the destruction of HMS Princess Royal.
7. Though severely damaged IRL the Lutzow had successfully withdrawn and was returning to Kiel under its own power, when critically, the forward main pumps became unusable, as the control rods jammed. This allowed unchecked flooding and the loss of buoyancy forward, which caused the bow to became awash, increasing the rate of flooding and eventually forcing the ship to be scuttled. Post-action damage reports suggest that had the pumps not failed then it was very probable that the Lutzow would have survived in a manner similar to that of the Seydlitz, which likewise had suffered extensive flooding forward but kept its pumps working and retained some forward buoyancy despite the flooding. This failure does not occur ITL and despite the damage Lutzow survives.
1736, 22 July 1916, HMS Southampton, North Sea, 220 miles from Rosyth
Rear Admiral Napier was quite happy wearing two hats, being both the commander of the 3rd Light Cruiser Squadron, and senior officer commanding the entire screen of the 1st BCF, which in effect totaled 13 Light cruisers and a total of 24 destroyers. In the months of his command, they had drilled and worked together, and the challenge represented one of the most satisfying periods of his life. But all the preparation and training in the world had become victim of the other great timeless navy truism, no plan survives contact with the enemy. Quite frankly as commander of the screen he was having a bad day, and his sour mood at the moment reflected it.
From the moment of the contact with the extreme edge of the screen events had seemingly conspired to create factors to disorganize his screen. The initial contact had collapsed the ships on that flank towards the fight, and the vicious little engagement had further disorganized the sections involved. By the time both sides had broken contact he had not only lost a destroyer, but the dense low smoke and rapid interplaying of small ships in melee had broken the formations up, not to mention causing damaged ships to fall out of action. This followed by the Battlecruiser force reversing course and then the second course change by Beatty had left the vast majority of the screen badly out of position, trailing the battle line instead of being ahead to do its job, and be best positioned to intervene for defence or attack. With only a few knots advantage it had taken far too long for the screen to regain a leading position, not helped by receiving the order "Destroyers clear the line of fire!". This had basically forced his ships to essentially follow three sides of a square in regaining the lead whilst moving up the western disengaged side of the battleline. Then firstly the Australia being forced out of the line, followed unbelievably by the loss of three battle cruisers, had obliged him to leave ships in each case for support or rescue duties.
Finally, barely half an hour ago, he had mustered the remaining balance of his screen and was in a position to attack at last. Looking through his glasses he could see the forces of the enemy screen in the van of their formation. These were the ships that he would engage, and in his mind, was assessing what he was seeing. Even having left ships to support stragglers, there still remained well over twenty torpedo boats there. Individually smaller and more lightly armed than his ships, he had only about 3/4 of his original destroyer force in hand. More powerful individually but offset by their number it would be a roughly equal battle. What he had was his three squadrons of light cruisers, and to his eye there where at most 4-5 to oppose his baker's dozen. This was the hammer to crack the defense, and if he committed his entire force then he was sure that he could get two or three of their big ships if he employed the screen en-masse.
Increasing further his foul mood, carefully hidden behind his calm exterior, his professionalism was battling with a profound dissatisfaction. Partly this was the events of the day, the screening issues and the losses already suffered, and partly was his current inactivity. He could see the enemy, and was in a prime position to inflict damage on them, but Admiral Hood had ordered him to wait for now. He could only watch and wait in anticipation, and could feel the anger and eagerness on his bridge. The Royal Navy as an institute was not used to coming off second best, and for all that events had not gone their way to date, He was certain that there wasn’t a single matelot in the screen who wasn't eager and champing to reverse that fact. This intense focus was snapped abruptly by an aghast call, "Sir, the flagships blown up." Causing him to spin around in shock once more, to confirm with his own eyes despite his disbelief. For some 30-40 seconds he just stood, staring, initially too surprised in conflicted disbelief to organise his thoughts coherently at first, before the logical portion took control and recognised that he was now the one in the box seat, scanning the disrupted battleline behind and the visible dispositions across to the enemy. The chain of command was clear in the Battlecruiser force, Rear Admiral de Brock was in command of the 1BCS, now reduced to the sole ship, HMS Princess Royale at the head of the line, and was his junior. While controlling the Battlecruiser force, his promotion was only recent and up until May 1915, he had actually been the previous Captain of Princess Royal itself.
Overall command was now his, and experience and professional instincts made him pause for a further moment, analyzing if it was workable or just his instinct to lash out at the losses endured, before after a brief nod to himself, turned to his flag Yeoman on the bridge of HMS Falmouth and said, "Get a radio signal out to the Grand Fleet and 5BS with an update and advice I am attacking." Evan as he could hear the growl of approval from those around him, he added, "General signal to the screen, all ships: general attack - torpedo," and added as an aftermath to the surrounding bridge personnel, "Let loose the dogs of war," with a tight grin.
1742 22 June 1916, Skagerrak, North Sea, 250 nautical miles from Rosyth
Konteradmiral Friedrich Boedecker’s IInd Scouting Group had reformed ahead of the Hipper's battle cruisers fairly quickly after the initial contact melee at the start of the action. This job made easy by the few heading changes during the slugging match that had developed between the capital ships of the two forces behind him. He had been forced to detach several of his torpedo boats to provide support for the lagging Vonn der Tann and Seydlitz, but still had over two dozen available in support of the four light cruisers under his command. He had watched with increasing foreboding as the British screen had steadily reformed ahead of their line opposite. For the last half an hour or so they had just paced his own forces, visible across the dozen kilometres separating them, and he could see they had three times the cruiser force he had, just hovering forbiddingly. For all he had an edge in numbers of smaller vessels, he was at a loss as to why they had not attacked before now. Even the most partisan of officers of the Imperial German Navy had never accused the Royal Navy of timidity, and the longer he had studied the serried lines of cruisers and destroyers shaken out opposite him, the greater the tension had built in his own mind, simply waiting for them to act. When they did, he knew his own forces were going to be stretched to the limit to respond, and the analytical part of his training already indicated that the odds would be badly against him. The destruction of a fourth enemy battlecruiser was a passing distraction, preoccupied as he was with anticipation of whatever the opposing screen might do. So, when at 1754, he saw the entire leading force swinging in to lunge towards Hipper's ships it actually came as a relief from the rising tension. Even as he was giving the orders to martial his own forces to counter attack and interpose themselves between the lines. A distant small distracted part of his mind, briefly mused if the delay had been deliberate, simply to evoke the tension felt before committing to attack, as he and the ships and men under his command steeled themselves for what was undoubtedly going to be a bloody and brutal confrontation. This distraction was lost as the first shots began arriving and he committed himself fully to the chaos of battle unfolding.
1741, 22 July 1916, HMS Narborough, 13th Destroyer Flotilla, North Sea.
LT Reginal Barlow was still a comparative rarity in the RN, being a Royal Naval Reserve officer from P&O and not a regular, and now acting as an Executive Officer on a M-class Destroyer. Having initially been a freshly appointed 3rd officer on the British India Steam Navigation cargo-liner Bankura in 1913, he had followed the practice of most of British officers of the major Royal Mail Ship navigation companies by joining the Royal Navy Reserve. He had made only a single cruise to Asia by 1914 when the company had amalgamated with P&O, and on the outbreak of war volunteered to serve with the tacit encouragement of his employers. Initially posted as a Sub-lieutenant to a destroyer of the Harwich Patrol and had found he thrived in the active role, despite the hard lying conditions. His basic competence and youthful enthusiasm for the job had seen him promoted to LT, and by early 1916 he was posted as exec of the Narborough. Initially part of the Grand Fleet based at Scapa Flow he had found the lack of action, not to mention the freezing cold, incredibly boring and had thrown himself into his job. Fortunately, in May Narborough was transferred to the 10th Destroyer Force to be part of the screen of the Battlecruiser force based out of Rosyth, much to the pleasure of both himself and the rest of the ship's crew.
The day had initially looked like being a repeat of the earlier uneventful May sortie, up until shortly after noon, when a sighting of smoke to the east by Obdurate, one of the Narborough half-section had triggered a brief but confusing action with a number of German torpedo boats. Last ship in line, Narborough had followed its three sisters into action, with 'Reggie' in his usual action station with the rear 4-inch gun.
In the subsequent brief but fierce action, charging through a confused melee in the low obscuring fog of smoke, left by the wild interweaving of ships in the largely calm conditions, she had become separated from their companions. In the midst of a flurry of sudden short-range exchanges as ships appeared and disappeared at random, whilst trying to identify and engage targets, he had heard a detonation forward and felt a sharp shudder underfoot, he knew the ship had been hit as it suddenly veered sharply away to port. Leaving the gun to the mount petty officer in charge, he was rushing forward and fearing the worst when he was met by a runner at the forward funnel, with the news that the bridge had been hit and the captain was down. He arrived to find three still bodies and learned that a small calibre shell had burst directly under the tiny bridge causing casualties and disabling the forward 4-inch mount. By the time he had regained control the ship had already completed two full circuits through several bands of smoke and he found he had no idea where he was or the location of the rest of his half-section or the enemy. Still moving at over 25 knots and peering ahead he thought he could see a ship ahead heading east and, thinking it most possibly one of their own followed it. Only a few moments later they burst out into clearer conditions, and to the sudden realisation that they were taking station at the rear of a line of three or four German ships just a few cables ahead. The abrupt reversal of their course rapidly back into the smoke had also awoken the Germans to the fact that Narborough was not one of their own, and it was pursued by shells as disappeared back into the mirk.
After breaking north and then back west for some minutes the Narborough had emerged some quarter of an hour later to find itself in seeming isolation with startlingly not another ship in immediate sight. With his radio destroyed, and only a generalised idea of his location, he elected to follow the distant smoke cloud on the horizon to the south. As they closed on the smoke it resolved into another ongoing action, eventually revealed as the battlecruiser Australia, accompanied by two destroyers, exchanging fire with a German battlecruiser, also with a pair of escorts. Challenged by HMS Turbulent his response had been the ships number followed by: "Captain dead, no Comms, permission to join." With the brief confirmation, Narborough had fallen in behind the trailing HMS Termagant, and for the next period of time the three had acted as screen to the Australia, whilst being spectators to the slow relentless exchange as both battling ships were each hit several times, damage increasing and guns falling silent. At 1755 he saw the signal run up the Turbulent mast, "General Signal: Torpedo attack, conform." flying for some seconds while its two companions acknowledge, then with the dip of execute, all three turned towards the distant Vonn Der Tann.
On the bridge of Narborough, despite the mute evidence of the silent gun on the foredeck before him, Barlow felt an intense excitement at being in command as his ship drove forward to attack the enemy battlecruiser. The larger and faster T-class ships ahead of him slowly opened a slight gap and he could see two German ships curving to intercept their thrust short of its target. With events developing rapidly as the ships closed, he altered Narborough’s heading slightly to use the others funnel smoke to mask his own approach, as the guns of the five converging vessels were firing rapidly as the range shortened. Even as this was happening, he caught the surprised report from his signalman, "Australia's also closing sir!" A quick glance over his shoulder confirmed that the battlecruiser had also swung to port and was now acting like some oversized destroyer, charging on a sharply closing bearing to the limping smoke shrouded German ship ahead. With a wild laugh he couldn't help but respond, "The more the Merrier, flags!" before concentrating on the task in hand. Ahead he could see first one, then a second hit on the Turbulent, and the flash of another on the Termagant, but perhaps, due to the smoke and separation, for the moment no one seemed to be actually firing at the wildly charging Narborough. His own guns, their arcs opened by the course change, were now firing as well, and he nodded with satisfaction seeing a flare blossom on the lead Torpedo boat. Again, his ship seemed to be enveloped in a brief shroud of concealing funnel smoke, before suddenly breaking into the open exposing a plodding, Vonn der Tann, broadside on and hardly moving at less than 10 knots, "target Battleship to Port, engage as bearing, He shouted out to his sole Sub-lieutenant now at the tubes. "Hard a-starboard he ordered the Coxswain, as the range dropped to under 4,000 yards, clinging to the bridge screen as the ship heeled sharply with the radical turn. For the first time the Vonn der Tann seemed to recognise its threat and one or two of its secondary armament began throwing shells in their direction, but too few and far too late. As the ship swung upright, he could hear the thump one after another as the four torpedoes leapt into the water. Even as another radical turn sought to escape danger, his eyes remained rivetted on the target. At first nothing as the ship ploughed on seemingly unaware of its danger, but finally sluggishly it seemed, he could see a slight bearing change of its bow as it sluggishly began to turn. Unconsciously he found himself softly muttering, "Come on…, come on…," until unbelievingly first one then another huge spout arose from the Vonn der Tann's stern quarter. "Yes!" he couldn't stop a jubilant bark, and giving a brief un-officer like hop, before getting himself under control, then realising it had been lost in the general crowing, as an equally joyous roar of euphoria swept his ship, even as it began wildly changing course in withdrawal. His successful actions during the day would subsequently earn him a DSO and ensure him senior command with P&O in the future, and unbeknown to him eventually a carrier command in the Second World War.
1744, 22 June 1916, SMS Von der Tann, North Sea,
Kapitan zur See Hans Zenker, Captain of the Battlecruiser Von der Tann had long known is beautiful ship was increasingly in trouble. Laid down in 1907, she represented Germany's first attempt at designing a ship to meet the modern battlecruiser concept. Her very success and durability reflected the intensity and amount thought that had gone into the initial work to conceptualise her design. But despite this success she still represented the oldest and smallest of the modern German battlecruisers, being barely two-thirds the size of later ships. So, despite the excellence of her design, she still simply lacked the mass to absorb the degree of punishment of the others and was the most susceptible of the to the steady accumulation of damage inherent in any long slugging match.
The action had started well with the rapid and effective fire initially knocking an Indefatigable class ship out of the line, if only temporarily as it occurred. But despite continued hits on the opposition, the simple fact that she occupied the tail position against more numerous foes, ensured that multiple opponents engaged her when she could only effectively reply to one. The British ships had each picked an opponent at the start of the action, but that had translated into initially three ships and later two in the British line all firing at his own. By the time the destruction of two Royal Navy heavy ships, had reduced it to a one-on-one contest, the Vonn der Tann had already suffered significant damage as a result. At this point his ship had now been hit 12 times, with Both Anton and Dora turret on the disengaged side out of action. Anton turret was burnt out from a direct hit. Dora turret had been penetrated through its thin rear armour and thought the shell had failed to detonate it had killed or injured most of its crew and the shock from a shell impacting the barbette had jammed it. Bruno turret on the engaged side had suffered damage to one recoil mechanism, whether due to a near miss or the simple shock of the ship firing its main armament so regularly was not known as yet. She was down to two turrets, one firing at reduced rate, and both firing under local control as another hit had destroyed the main rangefinder.
Another shell from the same salvo that had wrecked Dora turret had impacted the after funnel and causing the ship to lose speed. For a while it had dropped out of engagement by an opponent. But as it fell further back, separated from Hipper's main battle line, it found itself once more exchanging blows with the Australia, similarly lagging from the British line due to its earlier damage. Again, hits began to accrue and despite his crew’s best efforts to keep her in action. Everywhere it seemed, a struggle against the incursions of fire and water was being waged. A shell had pitched short near the stern, flooding an after-boiler room and filling the ship with hundreds of tons of seawater. By now her speed was down to less than fourteen knots and reducing further as she wallowed deeper in the water. She had struck her opponent at least five times in the most recent exchange as the range had reduced leaving her afire in two places but in turn lost Bruno turret, so now only Caesar, the aft turret continued to fire back. Her opponent, while continuing to burn fiercely aft, never ceased to return fire with regular reduced four-gun salvo's. Captain Zanker now feared the worst but would continue to fight back while he effectively could regardless.
At 1745, shortly after another eruption in the distant ongoing exchange ahead, what he feared most came into reality. Suddenly he could see destroyers bearing down on his struggling ship, obviously intending to attack. Even as the two accompanying torpedo boats V248 and V189 moved to interpose, he could see the Australia, also now swinging about to close. With few of his secondary guns still in action, and all her former lithe speed robbed, he knew what was about to happen. Even as he spied a new threat emerged from the smoke, Von der Tann suffered yet another hit from the closing Australia that fully detonated against the base of the rear funnel. Her deck, already weakened by the earlier hits and unarmoured funnel, partially collapsed into the hole, and forcing the crew out of the machinery spaces. Even as the ship lost power, he could see the destroyer launched threat closing. Despite her helm being hard over and her bow swinging oh-so-slowly, he knew the effort would prove futile. First one, and then a second struck her after quarter, sending mast height spouts into the sky and penetrating the hull. Already Lamed and with an enormous cloud of smoke emanating from her, her shafts warped and rudder jammed she now slowly sagged to port as she coasted to a stop. As hundreds of tons of additional water now surged into the gaping holes below her waterline, she steadily began to list to starboard, her stern obviously rapidly filling. Without power to fight the flooding Zenker gave the inevitable order to abandon ship and with her guns now silent, her crew commenced to swarm upon deck, casting buoyant objects into the calm seas as she slowly coasted to a halt. Nearby, both her escorts also succumbing after their futile efforts at protection, would be soon joined by HMS Termagant in sliding below the waves.
With the command "All hands. Abandon ship" given at 1816 it was all Kapitan zur See Zenker could do was watch and await the final plunge of his beloved Von Der Tann. Already he could see that the Australia had ceased fire and was circling at a distance, topsides now sparsely crowding with observers despite a still smouldering fire in its stern superstructure. He stood contemplating as crewmembers took to the water as the remaining two British destroyers closed in to recover survivors of both sides. There was nothing more that could be done here he sighed; his ship had fought to it's last. No ship built of metal could withstand such an onslaught, yet Vonn der Tann had for so long. For all that, there were limits and it was now time to save his brave crew, that integral ships portion not made of metal. They had done all that could reasonably expected and more, and whatever the result of the action it was time to ensure the escape of as many as possible. It was to take nearly a further half hour before standing soaked on the deck of HMS Narborough, tears streaming unnoticed down his cheeks and surrounded on its massively over-crowded deck by recovered sailors all watching the final moments of his lovely command. Ever lady like she had briefly straightened upright before settling slowly stern first before finally slipping with little fuss beneath the surface of the North Sea, taking 303 of her 923 officers and crew with her.
1742 21 July 1916, HMNS Australia, North Sea
Despite its best efforts it had proved that the Australia had lacked the necessary knot or two or speed to successfully close with the rest of the Battlecruiser Force, and the long run south had not offered any opportunities for the Australia to cut a corner and close. This had resulted in her being a distant spectator initially, watching in futility the ongoing exchanges now nearly six nautical miles ahead. But gradually their initial opponent, the Vonn der Tann at the rear of the German line had begun to steadily drop back, obviously damaged in some way and losing speed.
The long slow approach had been both depressing and disturbing, watching the carnage on the distant line, and for all that another German ship was clearly in distress and also lagging, it was small comfort for the losses seen. As the range dropped to about 15,000 yds the Vonn der Tann opened, fire and a moment later Australia responded, both sides firing only four guns at this range due to the earlier damage. What followed was reflection of the slugging match ahead only conducted on a smaller scale. Learning from the initial exchange, Captain Radcliffe had moved to the Australia's armoured conning tower, trading the limited vision through its slits for the safety of its 10-inches of armour. This proved prudent for by the time the range had dropped, both had hit their opponent nearly half a dozen times, including one stunning hit on the tower itself, which fortunately failed to penetrate. How long this would have continued is unknown when at 1734 the screen attack commenced.
With his ears still ringing from the recent hit, Captain Radcliffe did not at first hear the shout from his signals Yeoman. "Sir, Sir, Termagant's sending a general signal. What is it saying?" he queried. Since the second hit of the action had carried away the aerials along with Australia' rear topmast, Captain Radcliffe had been reduced to flags signals, with no way to restore radio communications. "Sir, Signal reads; Repeat: All ships, General attack - Torpedo." he paused and even as he looked at the lead ship of the three accompanying destroyers, he could see the flags dip in command; execute. As he watched they all began to swing to port, smoke surging from their funnels as they accelerated to close on the Vonn der Tann. With this sight and the briefest pause of consideration, be damned if he had any torpedoes, before he stated loudly to the bridge, "Right…, Bugger this for lark. Let's join the dance." as he gave the order, "Hard a-port coxswain, ships heading to follow the destroyers and close with the enemy." Unknown to himself, even as the shared growl of agreement swept the bridge, he had just forever earned his service moniker. For the rest of his life, the lower decks of Nieustralis ships would refer to him as "Bugger-this Radcliffe" thanks to this moment.
The Australia would close too within 5,000 yards in the following action, receiving a further damaging hit, even as two torpedoes would score the coup-de-gras upon the struggling Vonn der Tann, before circling briefly as the Turbulent and Narborough, the only two survivors of the five escorts involved in their own vicious little melee that the attack on Vonn der Tann had provoked. He could not stop to pick up casualties himself, as the risk was too great for the Australia. Even as he was doing this, he had returned to the flying bridge above the conning tower, not so much to observe the death-throes of the Vonn der Tann, but rather better observe the results of the confused distant action ongoing some miles still to the south as a result of the general attack there. With a spreading cloud of smoke obscuring the increasing disarray of that tactical picture, he needed a better idea of what was happening to decide his next action.
Extract from "Great Sea Battles", William Koening, Abracadabra Press, 1979
The loss of Admiral Hood and the Indefatigable, would trigger a rapid cascade of actions in a relatively short timeframe and, in concurrence with several external events, cause a major transformation in the whole shape of the battle. Up until this point the action bore a remarkable similarity to naval actions since the days of sail, if only conducted at a range of thousands of meters instead of gunshot. Two forces in single file on parallel courses, pounding each other with fire power to overwhelm the opponent. That the German force despite its fewer numbers getting the better of the exchange being the most notable feature of this phase of the action.
The first trigger to this dynamic change was the launching of a general attack by the British screening force, under the commanded by the senior surviving Flag Officer at that point, Rear Admiral Napier of the 3rd Light Cruiser squadron (3LCS). That this force had been in position ahead of the line, but held by direction for at least half an hour. With the removal of Hood and the Germans now having four battlecruisers to three, was the impetus for his order for a general torpedo attack. This forced the German Screen under Konteradmiral Boedecker to interpose, resulting in a violent confused action between the two lines and significant casualties for both sides, including the screen commanders of both forces. The nature of two screens would have a significant impact on the outcome of the melee. Though more numerous (24 to 18) the German torpedo boats were on the whole smaller and lighter than the British destroyers, with a shorter-range torpedo armament. Both screens had light cruiser support, but here the British significantly outnumbered their opponents, 13 to 4. This factor would be the telling edge that enabled the success of the British attack, with the additional weight of fire enabling the British destroyers to break through, but at great cost. The differing targeting priorities would also tell in this action, with the British screen concentrating on Hipper's battlecruisers while the German torpedo boats prioritised the British light cruisers supporting their destroyer's attack. Though unable to reach the British battlecruisers, the shorter ranged German torpedoes proved sufficient to eventually torpedo and sink four of the attacking light cruisers in their attempts to blunt the British thrust, as these pressed forward to support their own attack.
The final result would be that the Germans would lose all four of the light cruisers in their screen, while the British would eventually lose five, losing HMS Galatea of the 1LCS and its Commodore Alexander-Sinclair to defensive fire and have two more very badly damaged. But this would enable the British destroyers to achieve positions to prosecute their torpedo attacks on the German Battlecruisers. The end result would be a single torpedo hit on the bow of the Lutzow, while the largely isolated and struggling Seydlitz was hit twice, sealing its fate, while forcing the remaining battlecruisers to turn away avoiding the attack.
The timing and rationale of the withdrawal would prove to be of some propaganda significance post battle. That both sides pressed their attacks with great valour and the resultant severity of the action was reflected in the heavy losses on the escorts of both sides. The German losses being eleven torpedo-boats to the British eight destroyers (including the losses in the separate Von Der Tann action). The commanders of both screens would die (Admiral Napier of wound complications some 11 days after the action) along with Commodore Alexander-Sinclair of the British 1st Light Cruiser Squadron (1LCS). By the end of the action of the eight British Flag officers (Commodore Rank or above) who had sailed from Rosyth in the Battlecruiser Force that morning, only Rear Admiral de Brock of the 1BCS on the Princess Royal and Commodore Goodenough of the 2LCS would remain in a position to exercise command at the end of the battle.
Even as this action reached its peak, an event of pivotal significance was occurring some miles to the north of this action. In the initial contact melee, one of the damaged British destroyers in the action, HMS Obdurate, had broken contact and withdrawn before suffering an engineering failure. Damaged and having lost several officers it lagged behind before being forced to halt to repair broken steam lines. At this point it was stationary for over an hour before getting underway again, and had lost contact with the main force. Barely making five knots and unable to chase the Battlecruiser Force, surviving crew later reported that the senior surviving officer, Sub-Lieutenant Clarke, elected to head north to rendezvous with the closing forces of the 5BS, as this provided the shortest timeframe to reach support. Unbeknownst to him this would place the unfortunate Obdurate directly in the middle of the gap Admiral Scheer and the High Seas Fleet was intending to bisect between the two British forces the Zeppelin force had reported. What he may have thought as the full force of German fleet appeared over the horizon can be guessed. Nevertheless, before the German screen would roll over and sank the Obdurate (23 of the crew would be recovered by the German screen) it had sufficient time to radio a sighting report at 1755, detailing for the first time for the British the presence and heading of the main HSF as the enemy force.
This report had a galvanizing effect on the subsequent actions and was the first concrete news the British had received that the full force of the High Seas fleet was out. With this notification, both the Grand Fleet and 5BS, now some 45 and 25 miles respectively north of the reported position, would accelerate to full speed to close on the Battlecruiser Force, now obviously at severe risk of being cut off. For Admiral de Brock, now in command of that force, found himself faced with a number of unpalatable decisions. He would later be best remembered for his earlier remark during the battle to his Flag Captain WH Cowan after the destruction of HMS Invincible, which was to become the iconic quote of the battle. At the time he is said to have turned to his flag captain and said, "there seems to be something wrong with our bloody ships today."(6) His Post-action report revealed that his planned intent was to remain in contact, continuing to deploy his three surviving battlecruisers under command to best effect once the results of the torpedo attack by the screening elements were clarified. The news that a major force had interposed itself between his nearest support and was positioned to possibly cut off the withdrawal route of his force and in effect pin it between the two German forces, burst upon him like a thunderclap. The result was that at 1800 he ordered his force to break contact and withdraw on a WSW bearing. His post-action report would reveal a tactically sound justification and his rapid analysis in the heat of battle that his action would avoid it being enveloped between two forces, and that if the enemy pursued, it would in turn expose the High Seas Fleet to the risk of being cutoff if it continued pursuit. What would become of greater significance in following days was the specific timing of this action and the general perception and propaganda value that resulted.
For Admiral Hipper, the immediate threat was the impact of the developing British torpedo attack which threatened to overwhelm his own screen and the damaged capabilities of his own large ships to effectively defend against this. Postwar analysis would reveal he had ordered his forces to disengage and turn away at the almost identical time as Admiral de Brock. In event the main German line would not visibly turn onto an ESE heading until 1805, a gap of several minutes after the British. Beyond the impact of torpedo hits on Lutzow and Seydlitz, for propaganda purposes the delay would play a distinct role in the public perception of the engagement in the subsequent aftermath.
At this point it is necessary to remember that the Lutzow, Hipper's flagship, had already taken a tremendous pounding in receiving over 25 large-calibre hits, several very recently, yet was astonishingly still at the head of the formation and maintaining a speed of twenty knots. The scale of damage had resulted in general destruction of much of the upper works, including aerials, signals halyards and lights. Wireless telegraphy was in use, though their fragility and the limitation of the radio sets made their extensive use more problematic particularly in this extreme situation. Thus, most command signals were made with flags or signal lamps between ships, with the flagship was usually placed at the head so its signals might be more easily seen by the many ships of the formation. It could, even in the best of circumstances, (which this clearly was not), take a time for a signal from the flagship to be relayed to the entire formation. In a large single-column formation, a signal could take 10 minutes or more to be passed, with limited visibility from smoke on top of battle damage acting to delay the probability that a message would be quickly seen and correctly interpreted. In this case, that it was actioned in this time frame would likely indicate that both commanders had given the command to turn away virtually simultaneously, with the battle situation delaying its implementation far more noticeably for the Germans.
This disengagement would mark the end of the major surface action between combatants for the action, though a number of significant events would still occur.
1828 22 July 1916, SMS Friedrich der Grosse; Flagship HSF, North Sea
As the report of the encounter with a British Destroyer arrived and his own transmission office on his flagship confirmed news of it radioing his location, Scheer found himself grimacing. Jellico would now know he was out and his location. He had hoped for another half-hour to get even further west and improve his position to isolate Beatty's force but so be it. He was in a position to trap a portion of the Grand Fleet at all, and while not an optimist by nature, he could now come to Hipper's support, trapping the British between his two forces. With Zeppelin's reports providing an accurate idea of his opponent's location and size, he gave the order to for the High Seas Fleet was change heading to the south west behind the British and increase speed to its maximum 21 knots. With the battlecruiser force cut off it was almost certain that the five reported dreadnaughts to his north would engage his force, even with an open withdrawal route available. No Royal Naval commander could not help but move to the sound of the guns, especially when it was to support a hard-pressed compatriot. He had placed his heaviest hitters in his northern column of his force to engage such a response. With his own strength of numbers and ideal situation was developing to destroy a significant portion of the British Grand Fleet elements involved, and reward the sacrifices of Hipper's force.
All these considerations would be rendered mute at 1803 when his communication officer, scrambled onto his bridge with the news he had subtlety been dreading all day arrived. The Grand Fleet, with thirty plus dreadnaughts, had been sighted by Zeppelin L-17, position some 40 miles to the north and closing. This report was to prove a pivotal turning point, not only in the immediate tactical situation, but its eventual long-term impact on the wider scope of naval actions in the war. The Zeppelin force had been critical in its provision of reconnaissance reports, providing Scheer a much more accurate tactical picture of the location of the British forces, whilst the British had largely remained in ignorance of anything beyond direct visual distance. This had enabled Scheer to deploy his forces to reach the position it was in, poised to attack, when at long last one of the airships located to the north for just this reason sent an electrifying sighting report. The news that the entire Grand Fleet was out, with a far greater dreadnaught strength than his own, was barely 40 miles distant and closing was a blow to the gut of Admiral Scheer.
Facing an agonizing decision, Scheer would maintain this course for another eight minutes, confirming details, and receiving an update on the status of Hipper's forces. Also reported, the presence of a battlecruiser and light forces some miles closer to the north of the British battlecruiser force. This was in fact the Australia, now well separated from the main body of the remaining BCF and some elements of the dispersed screen that had joined it in the aftermath of the torpedo attack. The news of the loss of two of Hipper's force, and that it was withdrawing with damaged ships slowing it, forced him to accept the unpleasant realities now facing him. Even as the mastheads of the 1st Cruiser Squadron ahead of the 5BS, appeared over the horizon, he reluctantly accepted that the opportunity for victory, so tantalisingly present a brief few moments before, was now receding and gave the order for the High Seas Fleet to turn away.
Far beyond the immediate reality of turning to the south-east and being in a position to cover the withdrawal of Hipper's damaged and struggling force, this was to prove the decisively pivotal moment for the conduct of operations between the two navies for the remainder of the war. While conforming to the spirit of the Kaisers directive to preserve the fleet, it also came to represent recognition that the High Seas Fleet was simply not strong enough to confront the full force of the Grand Fleet in a direct engagement. The long-term implications for the morale of the High Seas Fleet were little realized at this time, but the effect of turning away at the very moment the enemy came into sight was to be profound.
Postwar analysis of his diary and correspondence interestingly revealed how stricken he was by this decision, recognizing the significance of this moment and that it was the report of the lagging Australia group which was the final influence on his decision to avoid action. He would write of this shortly after, likening it to 'some wounded lure trailed in front of my face, in order to entice me to combat.' Unable to contact Hipper aboard Lutzow and unaware that Hipper flagship was no longer capable of receiving radio communication. He was aware his ships would have sufficient leeway to make their own escape, provided he was not required to shepherd slower elements back to the Jade. For this reason, he would skillfully reposition his own screen during withdrawal to be able engage any attempt by the 5BS, now distantly visible on the horizon and intent on closing, to engage and create stragglers for the Grand Fleet to catch in pursuit. Evan-Thomas did close to visual distance but lacked sufficient screen of his own to oppose the size of Scheer's light forces interposed and prudently elected not to press the pursuit. Once Australia and the remaining battlecruiser forces consolidated some 20 miles to the west, would join them later that evening as they withdrew.
For Hipper, the withdrawal was to prove far more challenging. During the torpedo attack that forced his turn-away, his screen had laid smoke to obscure it. This proved largely effective but for the two vessels at the head and rear of the line, Lutzow and Seydlitz.
This smoke proved of scant assistance to the badly lagging Seydlitz. By this stage Seydlitz had been hit 21 times by large-caliber shells and had no main armament operational, and already suffered over 150 crew killed or wounded. Moving now at less than ten knots, she was in a critical condition; having already been flooded with over 5,000 tons of water, and the bow was nearly completely submerged. Only the very calm sea state and buoyancy that remained in the forward section of the ship was the broadside torpedo room keeping her afloat. Even as the attack had developed preparations were being made to evacuate the wounded crew. Exposed and a sitting target she would take two torpedoes' hits forward, destroying what little hull integrity and buoyancy that remained. Clearly doomed the order to abandon was given, and Torpedo-boats G42, and G85 came alongside to evacuate casualties and the crew. With remarkably little fuss, she would soon join the Vonn der Tann, slowly dipping her bow below the waves and finally disappearing at 1857, the last of the capital ships lost this day and taking 333 of her 1,072 crew with her.
Being at the head of the German line Lutzow had been trading fire with the heaviest armed of their British opponents for the entire action, and had suffered accordingly. By the time the British torpedo attack had commenced she had been hit 24 times by British heavy-caliber shells. In particular during the preceding 20 minutes, Lützow was struck in quick succession by four heavy-caliber shells. One pierced the ship's Bruno turret and disabled it. The shell detonated a propellant charge and the right gun was destroyed. The second hit jammed the training gear of the Dora turret, while the remaining two struck midships, damaging the engines, and removing Hipper's ability to communicate with the squadron. Up until now the Lutzow amazingly had still been moving at 20 knots despite its previous damage, but now began to lose speed. With British destroyers sweeping in, V45 and G37 began laying a smoke screen between the battered ship and the British line, but were unable to prevent several from launching torpedoes. At this point Lutzow had been turning away already, and all missed ahead except one which struck the bow, just ahead of the start of the armoured belt.
With his flagship losing speed and was unable to keep up, combined with its inability now to communicate, Hipper elected to transfer his flag and G39 came alongside and took Hipper and his staff aboard, in order to transfer him to the next in line Derfflinger. Lützow had fired her last shot in the battle, and the smoke screen had successfully hidden her from the British line. By now its situation was remarkably similar to that of the Seydlitz earlier, speed dropping to reduce the pressure of the inflow as flooding in the forward part of the ship reached dangerous proportions.
The main difference was the greater buoyancy margin as Lutzow unlike the Seydlitz had not already been flooded with several thousand tons of water. As the other three ships withdrew to the southwest Lützow was steadily settling deeper into the sea. Only the developing mirror like calm of the sea was preventing waves washing onto the deck and into the forecastle. At midnight, there was still hope that the severely wounded Lützow could make it back to harbor, with the ship down to 7 knots with over 4,000 tons on water now on board. Only the continued operation of the forward main pumps was keeping the inflow in check.[7] Lützow was so low in the water by that point that the rare low swell would increasingly wash all the way over the deck up to the forward barbette. This caused water to enter the ship through the numerous shell and shrapnel holes in the forecastle area, and slowly worsening the flooding. Counter flooding was required as the bow became so submerged that the propellers were pulled partially out of the water and forward draft had increased to over 17 meters. So much water was aboard that she scraped over Horns Reef shortly before dawn, and reached the outer Jade River on the morning of 23 July. Such was the critical condition with the bow nearly completely submerged, and flooded by well over 5,000 tons of water, that there was great danger of capsizing. She was saved only by the timely arrival of a pair of pump steamers that were able to stabilize the flooding. On 3 July the ship entered Entrance III of the Wilhelmshaven Lock in what was a truly outstanding display of damage control by its crew. Not only was this a tribute to their extraordinary efforts, but also one to the fundamental toughness of its design. Despite this survival she had still suffered nearly 200 casualties in her crew, and the damage as so extensive that she would not return to service for nearly a year. The withdrawal of the battlecruisers would mark the end of the battle, and once aboard Derfflinger, Hipper transmitted a report to Scheer informing him of the tremendous damage his ships had suffered. By this time, Derfflinger, Hindenburg, and Moltke each had received over 20 large calibre hits, only had one or two turrets in operation, Moltke was flooded with 1,000 tons of water, and whilst all were remarkably still capable of 15-17 knots, Hipper reported: "I Scouting Group was therefore no longer of any value for a serious engagement, and it is my intent to return to harbor unless otherwise directed by the Commander-in-Chief." Scheer himself while following the withdrawal of the I Scouting Group, determined to await developments off Horns Reef with the battlefleet.
The final incidents of the engagement, beyond those revolving around the withdrawal of the damaged vessels and recovery of wounded and survivors of both sides, would be remarkably similar and due to the action of submarines. Acting as part of the gatekeeper force at the mouth of the Jade River the German Armored Cruiser Roon would be torpedoed and sunk by the submarine E-24 midmorning of the 23rd, causing Scheer to rethink his plans to linger. In much a similar fashion the Grand Fleet would lose the Armored Cruiser HMS Shannon approaching Scapa Flow late that afternoon, a victim of U-27. The final ship involved in the action to successfully reach harbor would be the British destroyer Pelican, with her bows blown off. Towed backward she would reach harbor on the 24th, marking the conclusion of the naval portion of the battle.
6. IRL this line was actually attributed to Vice-Admiral Beatty who is said to have turned to his Flag Captain Chatfield and said it immediately after the destruction of HMS Princess Royal.
7. Though severely damaged IRL the Lutzow had successfully withdrawn and was returning to Kiel under its own power, when critically, the forward main pumps became unusable, as the control rods jammed. This allowed unchecked flooding and the loss of buoyancy forward, which caused the bow to became awash, increasing the rate of flooding and eventually forcing the ship to be scuttled. Post-action damage reports suggest that had the pumps not failed then it was very probable that the Lutzow would have survived in a manner similar to that of the Seydlitz, which likewise had suffered extensive flooding forward but kept its pumps working and retained some forward buoyancy despite the flooding. This failure does not occur ITL and despite the damage Lutzow survives.
Trying to generate a balanced historical perspective, reflecting the relative aspects of each side, given the scenario and force levels. IRL the Germans benefitted from both the munition failings of RN shells as well as the detailed magazine failures. Had the Greenboy shells or equivalent been available then the Germans could quite easily have lost three or four BC given the level of punishment received. As it is the impact is disproportionally worse, I believe for the UK and RN in terms of prestige than IOTL. Also, since it is the pivotal naval struggle of WW1 some of its impacts will be felt far downstream. As the telemarketers say 'Wait, but there's yet more...!' 👍
Like i said earlier it's your TL of course and can take it in the direction you desire, me i would have thought that making the effort to include Bayern, Baden and Hindenburg in this TL would have them help do something useful for the germans (Hindenburg i guess did something by being there, though again the loss ratio is worse for the germans compared to OTL), like bagging a QE or two and/or another BC or two. But that's just a matter of personal preference.
Here's where I have to imply what 'doing something useful' constitutes, and how can I implement it. In this case it seems to mean using these new ships in battle. Yet I cannot IMHO do this when the Kaiser imposed strict restrictions on Scheer's operational freedoms to employ the HSF. I can do many things but when you stretch a reader's incredulity too far, then the entire exercise becomes an unsatisfactory exercise in wish fulfilment. Quite understand the joy of 'what if' scenarios, but for me they still have to be underpinned by certain levels of plausibility. To me the changes allowed completion of this ships in a timely fashion to be available for Jutland. That the constraints of the situation would then not allow their effective or correct employment is simply unfortunate and a product of the historical situation as I see it. In a much more limited scope, it is fun to tender a simplistic force confrontation, but this is part of a wider integrated and I hope more historically believable timeline and I don't feel as free to fiddle to that extent with it. Like PvP or team v team battles I could do it, but it just doesn't appeal for me to put the effort in. I suppose you could call it BC team v. BC team in this case and at least the new Hindenburg is involved in the shooting part. I just hope you and others at least enjoy the work involved and hopefully it will inspire others to present their own AU and battle visions from this kind of base. Please feel free to present the vision of the battle you suggest, and I will welcome it if this acts as impetus for such other works. T
I guess i'm guilty of wanting to see/read a good Jutland TL in which the germans do as well as they possibly could. I've read on here in various topics that there were at least 3 or 4 other british BC/BBs that had close calls at the OTL Jutland, so it's not inconceivable that had fate decided a bit differently some of them would have been sunk too, without stretching plausibility/credibility of such a scenario. I guess it's rooting for the underdog and all that personal bias most everyone is guilty of!
But by all means please do continue your TL, like i said it's a great read and i shall look forward to the next chapter.
But by all means please do continue your TL, like i said it's a great read and i shall look forward to the next chapter.
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I'm as guilty as anyone of the old underdog syndrome, but too often going back and looking at those efforts later they don't just gel. In WW1 Germany despite its colonial ambitions couldn't accept it was basically still a European power. In the absence of the pre-dreadnaughts and the Kaisers constraints, I can actually envision a WW1 where there is no actual naval confrontation of the two main battlefleets in that event (which in terms of DNs here actually occurs). Speculate on that and think how the repercussions would reverberate in the post war. The level of national gold poured into the two navies and how would post war policy and antiwar sentiment go to town in that little event. What naval analysts and how the Mahan doctrine believers would cope leads to the wildest speculation on how justifications would evolve and what domestic political conflict could follow boggles the mind. T
Great story, very well told. The amount of work involved must have been considerable, especially the research required. I think you provided us with a very balanced view of possible events and I particularly liked Beatty finally getting his comeuppance for disregarding anti flash and safe propellant handling protocols that cost so many brave men and fine ships their existence. I’ve always been surprised that we didn’t lose more battlecruisers at Jutland considering the speed is armour fallacy. The fallout from this battle, as you say, will have profound consequences for the Royal Navy going forward and I would love to see your thoughts on that at some future date.
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7. The Immediate Post-Battle Aftermath.
Part Seven - (AKA 'Wait, but there's yet more...,' in Telemarketing Speak. - Enjoy)
Extract from "Great Sea Battles", William Koening, Abracadabra Press, 1979
The effect of what was the largest single naval action of World War One would be profound and long lasting, with some of its legacies lingering into the Second World War. As both the Grand Fleet and the High Seas Fleet could claim to have at least partially satisfied their objectives, Britain and Germany have both at various points claimed victory in the Battle of Jutland. There is no consensus over which nation was victorious, or if there was a victor at all. Perhaps of greater significance would be the popular perception of the result. At various stages it was represented as either a tactical victory for the outnumbered Germans, a strategic victory for the British, maintaining their blockade of German trade, or thirdly a hard-fought tactical draw that did little to alter the status-quo. In effect elements of all three could be said to be true.
Reporting
At midday on 23 July, German authorities released a press statement claiming a victory, including the destruction of four battlecruisers, five light cruisers, and several destroyers, for the loss of Vonn der Tann and Seydlitz. News of other losses was withheld; on the grounds this information would not be known to the enemy. The victory of the Skagerrak was celebrated in the press, children were given a holiday and the nation celebrated. The Kaiser announced a new chapter in world history. Post-war, the official German history hailed the battle as a victory and it continued to be celebrated until after World War II.
In Britain, the first news came from German wireless broadcasts, followed later as ships began to arrive in port. That evening on 22 July, the Admiralty released a sparse statement based on information from Jellicoe containing the bare news of losses on each side. The following day many British newspapers reported a German victory, quoting the Reichstag release: "The result of the fighting is a significant success for our forces against a much stronger adversary". To the British population this was a profound shock. That the long-anticipated battle had been a victory for Germany, ran against all popular expectations of another Trafalgar like triumph the nationalistic press had been predicting. The authorities considered suppressing the news, but it had already spread widely, and on 23 July, the Admiralty issued a further statement expanding on German losses, and another the following day with exaggerated claims. However, after the initial reports and news emerged that the main High Seas Fleet had withdrawn to avoid action, started to redress the sense of the battle as a loss.
International perception of the battle began to change towards a hard-fought tactical draw and qualified British strategic victory. The German attempt to change the balance of power in the North Sea having been failed, but a general public perception remained that the Royal Navy too had failed to gain the expected victory. Only the ongoing bad news of the failure of the much-trumpeted Somme campaign as it swept through July and rolled on into August swept concern over Jutland from the forefront of British consciousness. Nevertheless, the battle resulted in an enduring and deep-seated feeling of dissatisfaction in the British populace at the outcomes.
Assessments
While the battle of Jutland never resulted in a meeting of the two main fleets it still came to represent the climatic naval confrontation during the First World War. While technically only involving the heavy screening elements of both these forces, it was fought with great valor and intensity and with all the professionalism representative of the best of both navies. The German I & II Scouting Groups, with a 42-strong force (6 x BC, 4 x CL, & 32 x TB) faced off against the larger British Battlecruiser Force of 45 ships (8 x BC, 13 x CL, & 24 x DD) with the Tiger absent having been torpedoed leaving harbor. The intensity with which the battle was fought can be indicated that, not counting damaged ships, both sides lost 17 ships apiece, (Britain: 4-BC, 5-CL, 8-DD, Germany: 2-BC, 4-CL, 11-TB) approximately one-third of the involved participants for both sides.
In terms of personnel the result was distinctly more lopsided. The British lost over 6,000 personnel, almost three times that of the Germans with slightly over 2,200 casualties. Much of this disparity can be attributed to the virtually instantaneous nature of the loss of all four of the British battlecruisers, losing over 99% of their large crews due to catastrophic magazine detonations. The German losses while severe, reflected that much of their crews had more time to abandon ship and escape to be recovered from the water. This disparity in losses, combined with inability of the more powerful force to achieve a clear victory, would prompt an intense analysis of the details that led to this outcome.
As of the summer of 1916, the High Seas Fleet's strategy was to whittle away the numerical advantage of the Royal Navy by bringing its full strength to bear against isolated squadrons of enemy capital ships whilst declining to be drawn into a general fleet battle until it had achieved something resembling parity in heavy ships. In tactical terms, the battle represented a marginal success in that it had clearly inflicted greater losses on the British than it had suffered itself. So, in simple material terms some historians support the German claim of victory at Jutland, and this was basis for the German declaration of a great victory immediately afterwards. That the British would be able to much more readily replace the lost force levels than the Germans disregards this fact. The British by contrast had only reported short and simple results which resulted in a great deal of public outrage.
However, Scheer recognized that he could not engage a single element of Royal Navy warships, even with aerial reconnaissance without having the Grand Fleet intervene before he could return to port. Therefore, the High Seas Fleet would largely abandon its forays into the North Sea and turned its attention to the Baltic for most of 1917. Scheer switched tactics against Britain from a surface action campaign to unrestricted submarine warfare in the Atlantic. After the war ended, Scheer would subsequently write that had additional pre-dreadnaught vessels been reactivated and available, he would have included these vessels in HSF sorties to bring them up to parity in numbers in event of action with the Grand Fleet. Most analysists now consider this to be largely hyperbole with the benefit of hindsight. Few believe that even if these vessels had been available, that Scheer would have risked their inclusion due to their lower speed shackling the tactical utility of the faster dreadnaughts. The limited addition in offensive capability they represented would be far outweighed by restricting the freedom of maneuver of other fleet units.
At a strategic level, the outcome has been the subject of a huge amount of literature with no clear consensus. The battle was widely viewed as indecisive in the immediate aftermath, and this view remains influential. Despite a material and numerical superiority, the British had been disappointed in their hopes and failure to achieve a decisive battle comparable to Trafalgar and the objective of the influential strategic doctrines of Alfred Mahan. The High Seas Fleet survived as a fleet in being. Most of its losses would made good before November, – even Lutzow, the most badly damaged capital ship to survive the battle, was officially back in service in 1917. However, the Germans had failed in their objective of destroying any substantial portion of the British Fleet, and no progress had been made towards the goal of allowing the High Seas Fleet to operate in the Atlantic Ocean.
Subsequently, with time and hindsight there has been considerable support for the view of Jutland as a strategic victory for the British. While the British had not destroyed the German force despite its superiority and had lost more ships and lives than their enemy, the Germans had retreated to harbor. At the end of the battle, the British retained command of the North Sea enforcing the blockade, ultimately reducing Germany's vital imports and affecting the ability of Germany to fight the war.
Finally, the British had maintained their numerical superiority and never had less than 24 dreadnoughts in commission in the North Sea. Of the battlecruiser force, the Tiger stayed initially at Rosyth for preliminary repairs but transferred to dry dock at Portsmouth before returning to duty in September. HMNS Nieuw Zeeland, by far the least damaged of any of the battlecruisers was briefly dry-docked at Rosyth after Tiger, followed by HMS Indomitable. HMNS Australia, transited to Belfast to undergo repairs there and having A-turret replaced in September to rejoin the Battlecruiser force in late October. Joined by the two newly commissioned Renown Class the Battlecruiser Force would be restored to six vessels by 1917. This is in contrast to the German Battlecruiser strength which would remain unchanged at the four surviving ships after repairs for the rest of the war.
A third view, presented in a number of recent evaluations, is that Jutland, the last major fleet action not involving battleships, illustrated the irrelevance of the existing doctrine of battleship fleets following the development in other arms (aircraft, submarine, mine and torpedo). This view was the most important consequence of Jutland was the decision of the Germans to engage in unrestricted submarine warfare. That large numbers of battleships continued to be constructed in the following decades reflected the dominance among naval decision-makers of battleship advocates who constrained technological choices to fit traditional paradigms of fleet action. The later Battleships played a relatively minor role in World War II, in which the submarine and aircraft carrier emerged as the dominant offensive weapons of naval warfare.
British self-critique.
In many ways matching or even exceeding that of the public, the Royal Navy was profoundly dissatisfied with the outcome of the battle. Disturbed by the result at almost all levels as a professional institution, the result was an intense and candid examination of all aspects the battle, unmatched in the war to that point. The extent and depth of the review would extend to all aspects including doctrine, ordnance and design and have a profound and pivotal impact on the service as a profession with the resulting legacy stretching well after the war had ended. The immediate British Admiralty examination of the Battlecruiser Force's performance recognized two main problems:
British armor-piercing shells exploded outside the German Armour rather than penetrating and exploding within. As a result, some German ships with had survived hits numerous large caliber projectiles. Had these shells penetrated the armor and then exploded, German losses would probably have been far greater.
Communication between ships once the action was joined was comparatively poor. For much of the tactical action some of the most important signaling was carried out solely by flag instead of wireless or using redundant methods to ensure communications. Prior battle experience had already revealed this as a questionable procedure, given the mixture of haze and smoke that obscured the battlefield with coal fired warships. This was a repetition of similar failures by habit-bound and conservatively minded professional officers of rank, failing to take advantage of new technology already in service.
Shell performance.
The German armor-piercing shells proved far more effective than the British ones, which often failed to penetrate heavy armor. The issue particularly concerned shells striking at oblique angles, which became increasingly the case at long range, had been known and reported before the war, but no action undertaken. British explosive filler for shells Lyddite, due to the shock of impact of a shell against armor, often prematurely detonated before the shell had penetrated. and the fuse had functioned in the vulnerable area behind the armor plate. In addition, as a result of overly brittle shells the casing often broke up on impact. The issue of poorly performing shells had been known to the navy as early as 1908, and in 1910 had ordered new shells to be designed. However, the matter had not been followed through after, nor had new shells ever been thoroughly tested. The question of shell effectiveness had also been raised after the Battle of Dogger Bank, but no action had been taken. Hipper would later comment, "It was nothing but the poor quality of their bursting charges which saved us from disaster."
The investigations revealed that the system of testing shells in use meant that, statistically, a batch of shells of which 70% were faulty stood an even chance of being accepted. Indeed, even shells that failed this relatively mild test had still been issued to ships. Analysis of the test results afterwards by the Ordnance Board suggested the likelihood that 30–70% of shells would not have passed the standard penetration test specified by the Admiralty. Efforts to replace the shells were initially resisted by interested parties in the Admiralty, and action was not taken until Jellicoe became First Sea Lord in December. Such was the annoyance in the service, as an initial response, the worst of the existing shells were withdrawn from ships in early 1917. Newer shells were designed but would not achieve general issue until 1918.
Battlecruiser losses
One clear result of the battle was to invalidate the battlecruiser concept as developed by Britain within the navy itself, even for big-gun enthusiasts. British battlecruisers were designed to chase and destroy enemy cruisers from out of the range of those ships. They were not designed to be ships of the line and exchange broadsides with the enemy, yet this was how they were employed in this action. All four British battlecruisers were sunk by enemy shells penetrating the armor to detonate the magazines. Three of the British battlecruisers were penetrated through a turret roof and their magazines ignited by flash fires passing through the turret and shell-handling rooms. The contrast with the German performance was striking, were every ship sustained over 20 major hits, including turret penetration which had proved so fatal for the British ships, yet both losses sustained were due to flooding resulting from underwater hits, and Lutzow barely surviving the same issue to reach port, if only just.
The loss of confidence in them as a class meant that after the single Admiral Class vessel nearing completion, HMS Hood, no further examples would ever be constructed for the RN. In striking contrast to this disappointment, the British were deeply impressed by the toughness and ability to absorb damage exhibited by all the German battlecruisers. They would be one of the most intensely examined classes when the High Seas Fleet was interned at the wars end, and many of the design aspects and technical features applied in future designs. It also meant that future employment of the three RN Glorious class battlecruisers in commission, which carried the big gun-minimal armor concept to extremes, needed to be established. All were comparatively new and large vessels and with the level of resources invested in them, could not be readily disposed of. Their eventual change to the role of aircraft carriers, subsequently joined by HMS Tiger in the 1930s, would become another long-term result of the outcome of this battle.
The disturbing feature of the battlecruiser action remained the fact that six German battlecruisers engaging eight British vessels of this class yet were unable to prevail despite this numerical superiority. The facts which contributed to the British losses, beyond munition security issues, were the indifferent armor protection of the battlecruisers, particularly as regards deck plating, and poor turret design and armor. In terms of prestige these ships had become iconic in their representation of the modern image of the Royal Navy, and their failure to prevail and number of losses represented a severe blow to the reputation of the service.
The analysis in particular of the destruction of A-turret of HMNS Australia proved revealing into the probable cause of turret penetration which contributed to other losses. The battle experience showed that British turrets in general were inadequately protected. Problems identified included the lack of gunport shields, allowing splinters and blast to penetrate into the working area. Large gaps between the base of the gun house and barbette top, leaving an area of reduced protection. The sighting ports on top of the turrets were of an open design, which allowed both smoke and sea spray to enter into the gun house as well as interfere with target identification and engagement. A major design weakness identified was the sighting ports and the turret rangefinders projecting above the turret roof. These unintentionally were deadly shell traps, and it was a penetration through the port sight by a shell from Vonn der Tann which led to the destruction of Australia's A-turret. Finally, the sloping front roof of these turrets meant that the angle of incidence for incoming shells was less than that for a flat roof, which increased the chance of a penetrating hit. As a result of these discovery's the turrets of all British battlecruisers would be fitted with additional roof armor at the earliest possible moment, and the lessons incorporated into future turret design. That turret penetration was the probable cause of the only previous loss of a battlecruiser in action, HMS Inflexible in the Battle of the Falklands in 1914, was also noted.
Jellicoe, as well as other senior officers, initially gave the impression that the loss of the battlecruisers was caused by weak armor, despite earlier statements and reports that Cordite issues and its management were contributory. As a result, an additional 1-inch (25mm) was placed over the relatively thin decks above magazines, though no enemy shell was found to have penetrated deck armor anywhere. The design of the new battlecruiser HMS Hood (which was being built at the time of the battle) was altered to give her 5,000 tons of additional armor.
Ammunition handling.
British and German propellant charges differed in packaging, handling, and chemistry. The British propellant did nothing to improve its storage properties, which were poor. Cordite was very sensitive to variations of temperature, and cordite deterioration could take place at a very rapid rate. While cordite propellant was manageable, it required a vigilant gunnery officer, strict cordite lot control, and frequent testing of the cordite lots in the ships' magazines. British cordite propellant (when uncased and exposed in the silk bag) tended to burn violently, causing uncontrollable "flash fires" when ignited by nearby shell hits. Testing revealed that British ships frequently had inadequate protection against these flash fires. In contrast German propellant handled in brass cartridge cases was less vulnerable and less volatile in composition.
The Royal Navy Battle Cruiser Fleet had also emphasized speed in ammunition handling over established safety protocol. In practice drills, cordite could not be supplied to the guns rapidly enough through the hoists and hatches. To bring up the propellant in good time to load for the next broadside, many safety doors were kept open that should have been shut to safeguard against flash fires. Bags of cordite were also stocked and kept locally, creating a total breakdown of safety design features. By staging charges in the chambers between the gun turret and magazine, the Royal Navy enhanced their rate of fire but left their ships vulnerable to chain reaction ammunition fires and magazine explosions. This 'bad safety habit' carried over into real battle practices. Furthermore, the doctrine of a high rate of fire was encouraged in principle by Admiral Beatty in the Battlecruiser force in particular, and also led to the decision to increase the supply of shells and cordite held on the British ships, for fear of running out of ammunition. When this exceeded the capacity of the ships' magazines, cordite was stored in insecure places.
In British practice, cordite charges were stored two silk bags to a metal cylindrical container. The gun crews were removing the charges from their containers and removing the paper covering over the gunpowder igniter charges in order to speed the rates of fire. The effect of having multiple loads at the ready was to have exposed explosive. In effect, the gun crews had laid an explosive train from the turret to the magazines, and one shell hit to a battlecruiser turret was enough to end a ship. Battle experience revealed that unlike the German ships, turret penetration was linked to a high probability to suffer from internal explosions. From this evidence, a major part of the blame for British losses may be laid on lax handling of the cordite propellant for the shells of the main guns. The memoirs of Alexander Grant, Gunner on HMS Lion, suggest that some British officers were aware of the dangers of careless handling of cordite:
With the introduction of cordite to replace powder for firing guns, regulations regarding the necessary precautions for handling explosives became unconsciously considerably relaxed, even I regret to say, to a dangerous degree throughout the Service. The gradual lapse in the regulations on board ship seemed to be due to two factors. First, cordite is a much safer explosive to handle than gunpowder. Second, but more important, the altered construction of the magazines on board led to a feeling of false security.... The iron or steel deck, the disappearance of the wood lining, the electric lights fitted inside, the steel doors, open because there was now no chute for passing cartridges out; all this gave officers and men a comparative easiness of mind regarding the precautions necessary with explosive material. (8)
On 25 July 1916, the First Lord of the Admiralty advised Cabinet Members that battlecruisers had been lost due to unsafe cordite management. After the battle, there was issued a report advocating immediate changes in flash protection and charge handling. Some of its included that among other things:
Signaling
Throughout the battle, British ships experienced difficulties with communications, whereas the Germans did not suffer such problems to the same degree. The British (and Admiral Beatty in particular), preferred signaling using ship-to-ship flag and lamp signals, avoiding wireless, whereas the Germans used wireless successfully. One conclusion drawn was that flag signals were not a satisfactory way to control the fleet, particularly in reduced visibility conditions such as occurred in a large-scale surface action involving coal powered vessels. That there existed an issue of Command and Control was identified.
British ships both failed to report engagements with the enemy but also, in the case of cruisers and destroyers, failed to actively seek out the enemy. A culture had arisen within the fleet of not acting without orders, which could prove fatal when any circumstances prevented orders being sent or received. Commanders failed to engage the enemy because they believed other, more senior officers must also be aware of the enemy nearby, and would have given orders to act if this was expected. Wireless, the most direct way to pass messages between separate forces (although it could be jammed), was avoided either for perceived reasons of not giving away the presence of ships or for fear of cluttering up the airwaves with unnecessary reports.
Instructions were introduced to squadron commanders to act independently as they thought best while still supporting the main fleet, particularly for use when circumstances would make it difficult to send detailed orders. Similarly, guidance on what to do if the fleet was instructed to take evasive action against torpedoes were amended. Commanders were given greater discretion that if their element was not under immediate attack, they should continue engaging the enemy rather than turning away with the rest of the fleet.
Aviation
This would be an area that was to undergo a major reappraisal and receive recognition as a vital tactical tool in the future. The greatly increased role and importance of aviation in naval operations would be highlighted by the events of this action. For Scheer, the actions of the High Seas Fleet were always dependant on the availability of the Zeppelin force to provide reconnaissance and enable him to avoid direct confrontation with the Grand Fleet. This meant that his freedom of action was no longer limited to visual range of scouting forces, but also largely constrained him to only sortie into the North Seas when fine weather and visibility allowed the effective employment of Zeppelins to observe and report on the location of enemy forces. His freedom of action was dependent on these forces firstly locating isolated enemy elements that he could employ his main strength against, and secondly provide warning to avoid confrontation any enemy force significantly more powerful than his own.
For the British events highlighted the utility aviation offered in support of naval actions. Before these events the scouting potential was largely unrecognized and underemployed, as demonstrated by the failure to effectively employ the sea-plane carrier Engadine, despite ideal conditions for its use. That scouting was limited to line of sight of scouting forces severely limited the tactical awareness of commanders. That the British were unable to prevent or drive off Zeppelin observation of their location and movements gave the German forces a great tactical advantage in that they were able to operate with a far greater situational awareness as the action developed, whilst the British had no idea of the wider tactical picture. The inability to act against the Zeppelins hovering over British formations was the reason that by 1917, aviation platforms had been fitted to the roofs of many capital ships to enable an embarked aircraft to be flown off to attack Zeppelins if the situation occurred again.
The doctrinal effects would be profound and long lasting, revitalizing the role and importance of naval aviation, and reinvigorating all aspects of the Royal Naval Air Service (RNAS) at the time. In effect British were to go on to develop aircraft carriers as a ship-type in addition to Seaplane carriers, but also improve the role of aspects such as naval blimps to counter the increasing submarine threat. With recognition that the Glorious-class of light battlecruisers were operationally unsound, these hulls would subsequently be the convenient basis for conversion to the carrier role. The impetus for wider recognition of this fact and other fixed wing naval aviation developments can be attributed to the events of this action.
Controversy
The controversy raged within the navy and in public over the leadership and conduct of the battle that would persist well after the war. The unprecedented fact that six of the eight flag officers of Commodore or above rank lost their lives in the action severely limited the opportunity to closely investigate the conduct of higher command decisions involved. The eventual conclusion was that there was little or no grounds for finding fault in the actions of the Grand Fleet and 5BS. Nor could the failure of these elements to bring the German HSF to action be any way attributed to any failure of conduct or misstep by either commander. The simple geometry of the action as it developed meant that if the German force elected to avoid action, there was little the British could do to prevent this.
At the time, Jellicoe was criticized simply for his failure to place the Grand Fleet in a position to engage the Germans, his caution and for allowing Scheer to escape. Despite this, the simple fact that Jellico was uninvolved directly in the action removed him from much of the immediate fault finding involved in the post-battle analysis. The criticism of Jellicoe also fails to sufficiently credit Scheer, who was determined to preserve his fleet by avoiding the full British Grand Fleet, and who showed great skill in effecting his withdrawal. That a core facet of his actions revolved around avoidance of such a confrontation, was intrinsic in its outcome. Despite public perception that the navy had missed a tremendous opportunity to annihilate the High Seas Fleet and win what would amount to another Trafalgar. Jellicoe would promote away from active command in October to become First Sea Lord, the professional head of the Royal Navy, while Vice-Admiral Cecil Burney replaced him as commander of the Grand Fleet.
Beatty's actions
The general dissatisfaction with the outcome of the battle would result in a widely held need to identify a scapegoat for the perceived British failure to achieve a complete victory. As the now deceased commander of the Battlecruiser force much of the blame for the failure to achieve this would eventually be directly attributed to Beatty. This can also be attributed to the history of his personal interactions and soured relations with other senior commanders, as it was with his command failings. Although Beatty was undeniably brave, his personnel career lobbying and on occasion ruthless undermining of any perceived opposition or disagreement by subordinates had created a legacy of distaste and caution in dealing with him by many of his professional peers of Flag rank. That he also actively courted the press and used this influence and his close ties to the Royal House as part of his career progression added much to this dislike. He was one of the few Royal Navy flag officers of the period who made active efforts to establish a media presence, cultivating the image of a dashing leader through his press contacts. This was in generally marked contrast with his peers and, combined with his death made him a ready target onto which much of the blame was attributed. Earlier uncorrected command and signaling failures at Dogger Bank would still be present this action, and also made it easier for him to become the recognized scapegoat for the resulting failings.
That he had strongly lobbied for the removal of Evan-Thomas and the 5BS from his force after the May operation, and concentration of the battlecruisers under his sole command for independent operation sheeted home much of the responsibility directly to him. This independence of action also was highlighted in not providing Jellicoe with periodic information on his own intent or location, nor on the enemy position once in contact. Combined with his encouragement of practices to maximize rates of fire, along with the revelation of his transfer of his previous Flag Captain Ewan Chatfield after the May operation, who had expressed in writing that this policy was promoting safety issues in ammunition and magazine practices would be intrinsic in his being blamed for the Battlecruiser Force failures. The final element added to these points was his failure to effectively employ the seaplane carrier Engadine, attached to his command. That there never seems to have been any consideration to its employment was to be especially damning in contrast to the German use of aviation assets. The failure to have accurate knowledge of German forces location was intrinsic in the conduct of the action. That it was one of the very rare days ideal for the employment of seaplanes in the North Sea emphasized this missed opportunity. The decision to use it as an after-thought to patrol the approaches off Rosyth was seen as a waste of potential which may have been of significant benefit had it been employed to best effect.
The final officer to suffer from the stigma of the action would be Rear Admiral de Brock of the Second Battle cruiser Squadron. He would be replaced and never receive another sea-going command for the remainder of the war and be forced to retire shortly after. This was largely due to the unfortunate timing of the disengagement order upon the news of Scheers location. That his signal had made the British turn away slightly before Hipper's withdrawal enabled the subsequent German propaganda statements that the British had retreated in the face of a lesser force, was fundamental in this removal. For all that this had no bearing on his decision and that he had a sound tactical justification for making it, it was still insufficient to offset the public's perception and resultant stigma of this timing. Though the failure to inform HMNS Australia of the withdrawal, despite its effective inability to receive such signals, and lack of direction of actions after the screen had finished its attack were cited as reasons for his removal, many would still later regard this more as a punitive action and simply part of a wider fault-finding exercise by the Admiralty.
(Please note there is still one final segment to come. Thanks for your patience.)
8. The recollections and observations of this officer from HMS Lion form some of the historic basis of the flaws in munition handling and magazine safety that had developed in the Battlecruiser Force and would be detailed in his report which was highly critical of unsafe practices that evolved under Beatty at that time.
9. This paraphrases the actual report into the damage resulting from turret fire of Q-turret of HMS Lion which nearly resulted in its loss except for the act of exceptional personal bravery earlier detailed.
Extract from "Great Sea Battles", William Koening, Abracadabra Press, 1979
The effect of what was the largest single naval action of World War One would be profound and long lasting, with some of its legacies lingering into the Second World War. As both the Grand Fleet and the High Seas Fleet could claim to have at least partially satisfied their objectives, Britain and Germany have both at various points claimed victory in the Battle of Jutland. There is no consensus over which nation was victorious, or if there was a victor at all. Perhaps of greater significance would be the popular perception of the result. At various stages it was represented as either a tactical victory for the outnumbered Germans, a strategic victory for the British, maintaining their blockade of German trade, or thirdly a hard-fought tactical draw that did little to alter the status-quo. In effect elements of all three could be said to be true.
Reporting
At midday on 23 July, German authorities released a press statement claiming a victory, including the destruction of four battlecruisers, five light cruisers, and several destroyers, for the loss of Vonn der Tann and Seydlitz. News of other losses was withheld; on the grounds this information would not be known to the enemy. The victory of the Skagerrak was celebrated in the press, children were given a holiday and the nation celebrated. The Kaiser announced a new chapter in world history. Post-war, the official German history hailed the battle as a victory and it continued to be celebrated until after World War II.
In Britain, the first news came from German wireless broadcasts, followed later as ships began to arrive in port. That evening on 22 July, the Admiralty released a sparse statement based on information from Jellicoe containing the bare news of losses on each side. The following day many British newspapers reported a German victory, quoting the Reichstag release: "The result of the fighting is a significant success for our forces against a much stronger adversary". To the British population this was a profound shock. That the long-anticipated battle had been a victory for Germany, ran against all popular expectations of another Trafalgar like triumph the nationalistic press had been predicting. The authorities considered suppressing the news, but it had already spread widely, and on 23 July, the Admiralty issued a further statement expanding on German losses, and another the following day with exaggerated claims. However, after the initial reports and news emerged that the main High Seas Fleet had withdrawn to avoid action, started to redress the sense of the battle as a loss.
International perception of the battle began to change towards a hard-fought tactical draw and qualified British strategic victory. The German attempt to change the balance of power in the North Sea having been failed, but a general public perception remained that the Royal Navy too had failed to gain the expected victory. Only the ongoing bad news of the failure of the much-trumpeted Somme campaign as it swept through July and rolled on into August swept concern over Jutland from the forefront of British consciousness. Nevertheless, the battle resulted in an enduring and deep-seated feeling of dissatisfaction in the British populace at the outcomes.
Assessments
While the battle of Jutland never resulted in a meeting of the two main fleets it still came to represent the climatic naval confrontation during the First World War. While technically only involving the heavy screening elements of both these forces, it was fought with great valor and intensity and with all the professionalism representative of the best of both navies. The German I & II Scouting Groups, with a 42-strong force (6 x BC, 4 x CL, & 32 x TB) faced off against the larger British Battlecruiser Force of 45 ships (8 x BC, 13 x CL, & 24 x DD) with the Tiger absent having been torpedoed leaving harbor. The intensity with which the battle was fought can be indicated that, not counting damaged ships, both sides lost 17 ships apiece, (Britain: 4-BC, 5-CL, 8-DD, Germany: 2-BC, 4-CL, 11-TB) approximately one-third of the involved participants for both sides.
In terms of personnel the result was distinctly more lopsided. The British lost over 6,000 personnel, almost three times that of the Germans with slightly over 2,200 casualties. Much of this disparity can be attributed to the virtually instantaneous nature of the loss of all four of the British battlecruisers, losing over 99% of their large crews due to catastrophic magazine detonations. The German losses while severe, reflected that much of their crews had more time to abandon ship and escape to be recovered from the water. This disparity in losses, combined with inability of the more powerful force to achieve a clear victory, would prompt an intense analysis of the details that led to this outcome.
As of the summer of 1916, the High Seas Fleet's strategy was to whittle away the numerical advantage of the Royal Navy by bringing its full strength to bear against isolated squadrons of enemy capital ships whilst declining to be drawn into a general fleet battle until it had achieved something resembling parity in heavy ships. In tactical terms, the battle represented a marginal success in that it had clearly inflicted greater losses on the British than it had suffered itself. So, in simple material terms some historians support the German claim of victory at Jutland, and this was basis for the German declaration of a great victory immediately afterwards. That the British would be able to much more readily replace the lost force levels than the Germans disregards this fact. The British by contrast had only reported short and simple results which resulted in a great deal of public outrage.
However, Scheer recognized that he could not engage a single element of Royal Navy warships, even with aerial reconnaissance without having the Grand Fleet intervene before he could return to port. Therefore, the High Seas Fleet would largely abandon its forays into the North Sea and turned its attention to the Baltic for most of 1917. Scheer switched tactics against Britain from a surface action campaign to unrestricted submarine warfare in the Atlantic. After the war ended, Scheer would subsequently write that had additional pre-dreadnaught vessels been reactivated and available, he would have included these vessels in HSF sorties to bring them up to parity in numbers in event of action with the Grand Fleet. Most analysists now consider this to be largely hyperbole with the benefit of hindsight. Few believe that even if these vessels had been available, that Scheer would have risked their inclusion due to their lower speed shackling the tactical utility of the faster dreadnaughts. The limited addition in offensive capability they represented would be far outweighed by restricting the freedom of maneuver of other fleet units.
At a strategic level, the outcome has been the subject of a huge amount of literature with no clear consensus. The battle was widely viewed as indecisive in the immediate aftermath, and this view remains influential. Despite a material and numerical superiority, the British had been disappointed in their hopes and failure to achieve a decisive battle comparable to Trafalgar and the objective of the influential strategic doctrines of Alfred Mahan. The High Seas Fleet survived as a fleet in being. Most of its losses would made good before November, – even Lutzow, the most badly damaged capital ship to survive the battle, was officially back in service in 1917. However, the Germans had failed in their objective of destroying any substantial portion of the British Fleet, and no progress had been made towards the goal of allowing the High Seas Fleet to operate in the Atlantic Ocean.
Subsequently, with time and hindsight there has been considerable support for the view of Jutland as a strategic victory for the British. While the British had not destroyed the German force despite its superiority and had lost more ships and lives than their enemy, the Germans had retreated to harbor. At the end of the battle, the British retained command of the North Sea enforcing the blockade, ultimately reducing Germany's vital imports and affecting the ability of Germany to fight the war.
Finally, the British had maintained their numerical superiority and never had less than 24 dreadnoughts in commission in the North Sea. Of the battlecruiser force, the Tiger stayed initially at Rosyth for preliminary repairs but transferred to dry dock at Portsmouth before returning to duty in September. HMNS Nieuw Zeeland, by far the least damaged of any of the battlecruisers was briefly dry-docked at Rosyth after Tiger, followed by HMS Indomitable. HMNS Australia, transited to Belfast to undergo repairs there and having A-turret replaced in September to rejoin the Battlecruiser force in late October. Joined by the two newly commissioned Renown Class the Battlecruiser Force would be restored to six vessels by 1917. This is in contrast to the German Battlecruiser strength which would remain unchanged at the four surviving ships after repairs for the rest of the war.
A third view, presented in a number of recent evaluations, is that Jutland, the last major fleet action not involving battleships, illustrated the irrelevance of the existing doctrine of battleship fleets following the development in other arms (aircraft, submarine, mine and torpedo). This view was the most important consequence of Jutland was the decision of the Germans to engage in unrestricted submarine warfare. That large numbers of battleships continued to be constructed in the following decades reflected the dominance among naval decision-makers of battleship advocates who constrained technological choices to fit traditional paradigms of fleet action. The later Battleships played a relatively minor role in World War II, in which the submarine and aircraft carrier emerged as the dominant offensive weapons of naval warfare.
British self-critique.
In many ways matching or even exceeding that of the public, the Royal Navy was profoundly dissatisfied with the outcome of the battle. Disturbed by the result at almost all levels as a professional institution, the result was an intense and candid examination of all aspects the battle, unmatched in the war to that point. The extent and depth of the review would extend to all aspects including doctrine, ordnance and design and have a profound and pivotal impact on the service as a profession with the resulting legacy stretching well after the war had ended. The immediate British Admiralty examination of the Battlecruiser Force's performance recognized two main problems:
British armor-piercing shells exploded outside the German Armour rather than penetrating and exploding within. As a result, some German ships with had survived hits numerous large caliber projectiles. Had these shells penetrated the armor and then exploded, German losses would probably have been far greater.
Communication between ships once the action was joined was comparatively poor. For much of the tactical action some of the most important signaling was carried out solely by flag instead of wireless or using redundant methods to ensure communications. Prior battle experience had already revealed this as a questionable procedure, given the mixture of haze and smoke that obscured the battlefield with coal fired warships. This was a repetition of similar failures by habit-bound and conservatively minded professional officers of rank, failing to take advantage of new technology already in service.
Shell performance.
The German armor-piercing shells proved far more effective than the British ones, which often failed to penetrate heavy armor. The issue particularly concerned shells striking at oblique angles, which became increasingly the case at long range, had been known and reported before the war, but no action undertaken. British explosive filler for shells Lyddite, due to the shock of impact of a shell against armor, often prematurely detonated before the shell had penetrated. and the fuse had functioned in the vulnerable area behind the armor plate. In addition, as a result of overly brittle shells the casing often broke up on impact. The issue of poorly performing shells had been known to the navy as early as 1908, and in 1910 had ordered new shells to be designed. However, the matter had not been followed through after, nor had new shells ever been thoroughly tested. The question of shell effectiveness had also been raised after the Battle of Dogger Bank, but no action had been taken. Hipper would later comment, "It was nothing but the poor quality of their bursting charges which saved us from disaster."
The investigations revealed that the system of testing shells in use meant that, statistically, a batch of shells of which 70% were faulty stood an even chance of being accepted. Indeed, even shells that failed this relatively mild test had still been issued to ships. Analysis of the test results afterwards by the Ordnance Board suggested the likelihood that 30–70% of shells would not have passed the standard penetration test specified by the Admiralty. Efforts to replace the shells were initially resisted by interested parties in the Admiralty, and action was not taken until Jellicoe became First Sea Lord in December. Such was the annoyance in the service, as an initial response, the worst of the existing shells were withdrawn from ships in early 1917. Newer shells were designed but would not achieve general issue until 1918.
Battlecruiser losses
One clear result of the battle was to invalidate the battlecruiser concept as developed by Britain within the navy itself, even for big-gun enthusiasts. British battlecruisers were designed to chase and destroy enemy cruisers from out of the range of those ships. They were not designed to be ships of the line and exchange broadsides with the enemy, yet this was how they were employed in this action. All four British battlecruisers were sunk by enemy shells penetrating the armor to detonate the magazines. Three of the British battlecruisers were penetrated through a turret roof and their magazines ignited by flash fires passing through the turret and shell-handling rooms. The contrast with the German performance was striking, were every ship sustained over 20 major hits, including turret penetration which had proved so fatal for the British ships, yet both losses sustained were due to flooding resulting from underwater hits, and Lutzow barely surviving the same issue to reach port, if only just.
The loss of confidence in them as a class meant that after the single Admiral Class vessel nearing completion, HMS Hood, no further examples would ever be constructed for the RN. In striking contrast to this disappointment, the British were deeply impressed by the toughness and ability to absorb damage exhibited by all the German battlecruisers. They would be one of the most intensely examined classes when the High Seas Fleet was interned at the wars end, and many of the design aspects and technical features applied in future designs. It also meant that future employment of the three RN Glorious class battlecruisers in commission, which carried the big gun-minimal armor concept to extremes, needed to be established. All were comparatively new and large vessels and with the level of resources invested in them, could not be readily disposed of. Their eventual change to the role of aircraft carriers, subsequently joined by HMS Tiger in the 1930s, would become another long-term result of the outcome of this battle.
The disturbing feature of the battlecruiser action remained the fact that six German battlecruisers engaging eight British vessels of this class yet were unable to prevail despite this numerical superiority. The facts which contributed to the British losses, beyond munition security issues, were the indifferent armor protection of the battlecruisers, particularly as regards deck plating, and poor turret design and armor. In terms of prestige these ships had become iconic in their representation of the modern image of the Royal Navy, and their failure to prevail and number of losses represented a severe blow to the reputation of the service.
The Bow Turret of HMNS Australia in 1917 after repairs. Note the Declination Marks, and sighting hoods. A shell from Vonn der Tann penetrated through the port sighting hood at Jutland, leading to the turret destruction. |
Another view of the same replacement turret on HMNS Australia in 1917. Note the additional armor plates on the turret top which were fitted to all battlecruisers as a result of the experience gained from the of Battle of Jutland. |
Ammunition handling.
British and German propellant charges differed in packaging, handling, and chemistry. The British propellant did nothing to improve its storage properties, which were poor. Cordite was very sensitive to variations of temperature, and cordite deterioration could take place at a very rapid rate. While cordite propellant was manageable, it required a vigilant gunnery officer, strict cordite lot control, and frequent testing of the cordite lots in the ships' magazines. British cordite propellant (when uncased and exposed in the silk bag) tended to burn violently, causing uncontrollable "flash fires" when ignited by nearby shell hits. Testing revealed that British ships frequently had inadequate protection against these flash fires. In contrast German propellant handled in brass cartridge cases was less vulnerable and less volatile in composition.
The Royal Navy Battle Cruiser Fleet had also emphasized speed in ammunition handling over established safety protocol. In practice drills, cordite could not be supplied to the guns rapidly enough through the hoists and hatches. To bring up the propellant in good time to load for the next broadside, many safety doors were kept open that should have been shut to safeguard against flash fires. Bags of cordite were also stocked and kept locally, creating a total breakdown of safety design features. By staging charges in the chambers between the gun turret and magazine, the Royal Navy enhanced their rate of fire but left their ships vulnerable to chain reaction ammunition fires and magazine explosions. This 'bad safety habit' carried over into real battle practices. Furthermore, the doctrine of a high rate of fire was encouraged in principle by Admiral Beatty in the Battlecruiser force in particular, and also led to the decision to increase the supply of shells and cordite held on the British ships, for fear of running out of ammunition. When this exceeded the capacity of the ships' magazines, cordite was stored in insecure places.
In British practice, cordite charges were stored two silk bags to a metal cylindrical container. The gun crews were removing the charges from their containers and removing the paper covering over the gunpowder igniter charges in order to speed the rates of fire. The effect of having multiple loads at the ready was to have exposed explosive. In effect, the gun crews had laid an explosive train from the turret to the magazines, and one shell hit to a battlecruiser turret was enough to end a ship. Battle experience revealed that unlike the German ships, turret penetration was linked to a high probability to suffer from internal explosions. From this evidence, a major part of the blame for British losses may be laid on lax handling of the cordite propellant for the shells of the main guns. The memoirs of Alexander Grant, Gunner on HMS Lion, suggest that some British officers were aware of the dangers of careless handling of cordite:
With the introduction of cordite to replace powder for firing guns, regulations regarding the necessary precautions for handling explosives became unconsciously considerably relaxed, even I regret to say, to a dangerous degree throughout the Service. The gradual lapse in the regulations on board ship seemed to be due to two factors. First, cordite is a much safer explosive to handle than gunpowder. Second, but more important, the altered construction of the magazines on board led to a feeling of false security.... The iron or steel deck, the disappearance of the wood lining, the electric lights fitted inside, the steel doors, open because there was now no chute for passing cartridges out; all this gave officers and men a comparative easiness of mind regarding the precautions necessary with explosive material. (8)
On 25 July 1916, the First Lord of the Admiralty advised Cabinet Members that battlecruisers had been lost due to unsafe cordite management. After the battle, there was issued a report advocating immediate changes in flash protection and charge handling. Some of its included that among other things:
- Bulkheads in HMNS Australia's magazine showed buckling from fire under pressure (overpressure) – despite being flooded and therefore supported by water pressure – and must be made stronger.
- Doors opening inward to magazines were an extreme danger.
- Current designs of turrets could not eliminate flash from shell bursts in the turret from reaching the handling rooms.
- Better methods must be found for safe storage of ready charges.
- Special flash-proof fittings for moving propellant charges through ship's bulkheads and able to handle overpressure, must be designed and fitted. (9)
Signaling
Throughout the battle, British ships experienced difficulties with communications, whereas the Germans did not suffer such problems to the same degree. The British (and Admiral Beatty in particular), preferred signaling using ship-to-ship flag and lamp signals, avoiding wireless, whereas the Germans used wireless successfully. One conclusion drawn was that flag signals were not a satisfactory way to control the fleet, particularly in reduced visibility conditions such as occurred in a large-scale surface action involving coal powered vessels. That there existed an issue of Command and Control was identified.
British ships both failed to report engagements with the enemy but also, in the case of cruisers and destroyers, failed to actively seek out the enemy. A culture had arisen within the fleet of not acting without orders, which could prove fatal when any circumstances prevented orders being sent or received. Commanders failed to engage the enemy because they believed other, more senior officers must also be aware of the enemy nearby, and would have given orders to act if this was expected. Wireless, the most direct way to pass messages between separate forces (although it could be jammed), was avoided either for perceived reasons of not giving away the presence of ships or for fear of cluttering up the airwaves with unnecessary reports.
Instructions were introduced to squadron commanders to act independently as they thought best while still supporting the main fleet, particularly for use when circumstances would make it difficult to send detailed orders. Similarly, guidance on what to do if the fleet was instructed to take evasive action against torpedoes were amended. Commanders were given greater discretion that if their element was not under immediate attack, they should continue engaging the enemy rather than turning away with the rest of the fleet.
Aviation
This would be an area that was to undergo a major reappraisal and receive recognition as a vital tactical tool in the future. The greatly increased role and importance of aviation in naval operations would be highlighted by the events of this action. For Scheer, the actions of the High Seas Fleet were always dependant on the availability of the Zeppelin force to provide reconnaissance and enable him to avoid direct confrontation with the Grand Fleet. This meant that his freedom of action was no longer limited to visual range of scouting forces, but also largely constrained him to only sortie into the North Seas when fine weather and visibility allowed the effective employment of Zeppelins to observe and report on the location of enemy forces. His freedom of action was dependent on these forces firstly locating isolated enemy elements that he could employ his main strength against, and secondly provide warning to avoid confrontation any enemy force significantly more powerful than his own.
For the British events highlighted the utility aviation offered in support of naval actions. Before these events the scouting potential was largely unrecognized and underemployed, as demonstrated by the failure to effectively employ the sea-plane carrier Engadine, despite ideal conditions for its use. That scouting was limited to line of sight of scouting forces severely limited the tactical awareness of commanders. That the British were unable to prevent or drive off Zeppelin observation of their location and movements gave the German forces a great tactical advantage in that they were able to operate with a far greater situational awareness as the action developed, whilst the British had no idea of the wider tactical picture. The inability to act against the Zeppelins hovering over British formations was the reason that by 1917, aviation platforms had been fitted to the roofs of many capital ships to enable an embarked aircraft to be flown off to attack Zeppelins if the situation occurred again.
The doctrinal effects would be profound and long lasting, revitalizing the role and importance of naval aviation, and reinvigorating all aspects of the Royal Naval Air Service (RNAS) at the time. In effect British were to go on to develop aircraft carriers as a ship-type in addition to Seaplane carriers, but also improve the role of aspects such as naval blimps to counter the increasing submarine threat. With recognition that the Glorious-class of light battlecruisers were operationally unsound, these hulls would subsequently be the convenient basis for conversion to the carrier role. The impetus for wider recognition of this fact and other fixed wing naval aviation developments can be attributed to the events of this action.
Controversy
The controversy raged within the navy and in public over the leadership and conduct of the battle that would persist well after the war. The unprecedented fact that six of the eight flag officers of Commodore or above rank lost their lives in the action severely limited the opportunity to closely investigate the conduct of higher command decisions involved. The eventual conclusion was that there was little or no grounds for finding fault in the actions of the Grand Fleet and 5BS. Nor could the failure of these elements to bring the German HSF to action be any way attributed to any failure of conduct or misstep by either commander. The simple geometry of the action as it developed meant that if the German force elected to avoid action, there was little the British could do to prevent this.
At the time, Jellicoe was criticized simply for his failure to place the Grand Fleet in a position to engage the Germans, his caution and for allowing Scheer to escape. Despite this, the simple fact that Jellico was uninvolved directly in the action removed him from much of the immediate fault finding involved in the post-battle analysis. The criticism of Jellicoe also fails to sufficiently credit Scheer, who was determined to preserve his fleet by avoiding the full British Grand Fleet, and who showed great skill in effecting his withdrawal. That a core facet of his actions revolved around avoidance of such a confrontation, was intrinsic in its outcome. Despite public perception that the navy had missed a tremendous opportunity to annihilate the High Seas Fleet and win what would amount to another Trafalgar. Jellicoe would promote away from active command in October to become First Sea Lord, the professional head of the Royal Navy, while Vice-Admiral Cecil Burney replaced him as commander of the Grand Fleet.
Beatty's actions
The general dissatisfaction with the outcome of the battle would result in a widely held need to identify a scapegoat for the perceived British failure to achieve a complete victory. As the now deceased commander of the Battlecruiser force much of the blame for the failure to achieve this would eventually be directly attributed to Beatty. This can also be attributed to the history of his personal interactions and soured relations with other senior commanders, as it was with his command failings. Although Beatty was undeniably brave, his personnel career lobbying and on occasion ruthless undermining of any perceived opposition or disagreement by subordinates had created a legacy of distaste and caution in dealing with him by many of his professional peers of Flag rank. That he also actively courted the press and used this influence and his close ties to the Royal House as part of his career progression added much to this dislike. He was one of the few Royal Navy flag officers of the period who made active efforts to establish a media presence, cultivating the image of a dashing leader through his press contacts. This was in generally marked contrast with his peers and, combined with his death made him a ready target onto which much of the blame was attributed. Earlier uncorrected command and signaling failures at Dogger Bank would still be present this action, and also made it easier for him to become the recognized scapegoat for the resulting failings.
That he had strongly lobbied for the removal of Evan-Thomas and the 5BS from his force after the May operation, and concentration of the battlecruisers under his sole command for independent operation sheeted home much of the responsibility directly to him. This independence of action also was highlighted in not providing Jellicoe with periodic information on his own intent or location, nor on the enemy position once in contact. Combined with his encouragement of practices to maximize rates of fire, along with the revelation of his transfer of his previous Flag Captain Ewan Chatfield after the May operation, who had expressed in writing that this policy was promoting safety issues in ammunition and magazine practices would be intrinsic in his being blamed for the Battlecruiser Force failures. The final element added to these points was his failure to effectively employ the seaplane carrier Engadine, attached to his command. That there never seems to have been any consideration to its employment was to be especially damning in contrast to the German use of aviation assets. The failure to have accurate knowledge of German forces location was intrinsic in the conduct of the action. That it was one of the very rare days ideal for the employment of seaplanes in the North Sea emphasized this missed opportunity. The decision to use it as an after-thought to patrol the approaches off Rosyth was seen as a waste of potential which may have been of significant benefit had it been employed to best effect.
The final officer to suffer from the stigma of the action would be Rear Admiral de Brock of the Second Battle cruiser Squadron. He would be replaced and never receive another sea-going command for the remainder of the war and be forced to retire shortly after. This was largely due to the unfortunate timing of the disengagement order upon the news of Scheers location. That his signal had made the British turn away slightly before Hipper's withdrawal enabled the subsequent German propaganda statements that the British had retreated in the face of a lesser force, was fundamental in this removal. For all that this had no bearing on his decision and that he had a sound tactical justification for making it, it was still insufficient to offset the public's perception and resultant stigma of this timing. Though the failure to inform HMNS Australia of the withdrawal, despite its effective inability to receive such signals, and lack of direction of actions after the screen had finished its attack were cited as reasons for his removal, many would still later regard this more as a punitive action and simply part of a wider fault-finding exercise by the Admiralty.
(Please note there is still one final segment to come. Thanks for your patience.)
8. The recollections and observations of this officer from HMS Lion form some of the historic basis of the flaws in munition handling and magazine safety that had developed in the Battlecruiser Force and would be detailed in his report which was highly critical of unsafe practices that evolved under Beatty at that time.
9. This paraphrases the actual report into the damage resulting from turret fire of Q-turret of HMS Lion which nearly resulted in its loss except for the act of exceptional personal bravery earlier detailed.
" Acting as part of the gatekeeper force at the mouth of the Jade River the German Armored Cruiser Roon would be torpedoed and sunk by the submarine E-24 midmorning of the 23rd, causing Scheer to rethink his plans to linger. In much a similar fashion the Grand Fleet would lose the Armored Cruiser HMS Shannon approaching Scapa Flow late that afternoon, a victim of U-27. "
@Tangles2
Great story - well researched and written
I have a few quibbles on Lion - her senior Gunnery officer had refused to implement the removal of safety features which is why Lion survived such a pummelling OTL and survived 14 large calibre hits.
But by no means a deal breaker etc
Nice to see the lighter forces playing such a part in this alt more limited Jutland
Great story - well researched and written
I have a few quibbles on Lion - her senior Gunnery officer had refused to implement the removal of safety features which is why Lion survived such a pummelling OTL and survived 14 large calibre hits.
But by no means a deal breaker etc
Nice to see the lighter forces playing such a part in this alt more limited Jutland
8. The Longer-Term Impact on WW1 Naval Operations and Postwar Legacy.
Part Eight (Finish)
0935 24 July 1916, Rosyth, Firth of Forth, HMNS Australia.
Captain Stephen Radcliffe found himself with a headache, both literally and figuratively speaking, sitting in his day cabin struggling finalizing the draft of his after-action report, when a ships messenger rapped sharply twice on the doorway and announced, "Officer of the deck reports Captains gig from Nieuw Zeeland is approaching, Sir." Wincing slightly at the noise, he nevertheless straightened, welcoming the break and responded, "Very well, let him know I'll be up shortly. That is all," watching as the runner withdrew and turned disappearing out of his day cabin, before standing and leaving the paperwork on his desk as he reached for his hanging hat. "Did you catch that, Stuart?" he asked as he gingerly placed it upon his head, looking towards the door to the adjacent pantry. "Aye Sir," came the response as his steward appeared at the hatch, "Do you want anything special prepared for Captain Green?" he queried, watching as Radcliffe tried to perch his hat on the wrapped bandage around his head. "No, probably just the usual, but we should be down shortly," ducking out the hatch and heading down the passage. He was just in time reaching the quarter deck as he could see the eight oared gig just tossing its oars as it drew alongside. A brief delay then the head of the Nieuw Zeeland's Captain, John Green, appeared at the head of the accommodation ladder. The side party were in their places the visit being expected, the Bosuns mates piped shrill call sounding as Nieuw Zeeland's captain reached the head of the ladder, right arm raised in salute. The pipe finished and Radcliffe stepped forward, both sharing lop-sided grins as they shook hands. "It's damn good to see you again Steve," he said, releasing his grip. "I was afraid I mightn't see you again, for a while," almost repeating himself. "You and me both, Jimmy" he said, releasing his grip and gestured, "Shall we adjourn to my cabin?" and both headed for the gangway off the quarterdeck leading to his accommodation.
A short time later back in his day cabin, they settled into two chairs with his steward attending, "Thank you Stuart, that'll be all. Drink?" gesturing to the glasses and plate of biscuits on the table.
"I shouldn't, but since we aren't technically at sea, I'll have the usual."
"Two short Gin and tonics, please Stuart."
"Aye-aye, Sir." and shortly thereafter departing leaving the biscuits and two glasses on the low table between them and withdrawing.
"Your health, Good Sir." Green offered with a raised glass, and after a brief tap of drinks and sip, placed his glass down before him and, meeting his gaze asked in a more serious tone, "Eyebrows aside, you look a bit haggard Steve. Seriously, how are you after all this?" with a gesture to the bandage around his head.
Unconsciously, with his hat off he found himself reaching up to his burnt eyebrows, then running his fingers up to the crisped remnant of his hairline in response. Looking at the earnest face of his friend opposite, Radcliffe paused for a moment, briefly considering how candidly to reply. Before recent times, the two had not served together, and Green had left Britannia a year before Radcliffe started, so they had largely been strangers. But for the past year the two had been part of that small sub-group of Royal Navy officers who had commanded warships of their antipodean cousins. That shared time and the experience of turning that distinctly different mindset into a cohesive crew had turned them into firm friends.
"Physically," he replied, "I'm so-so for now, but on the mend," rocking his hand, fingers spread. "The shakes and dizziness are largely gone, just this thumping head-ache that comes and goes," touching his still bandage wrapped skull, "and wearing a bloody cap doesn't help that either."
"It looks like it's going to leave a ripper scar eventually," came the retort, with a slight nod and a grin, "I hope Adria approves."
"Well, I saw the Quacks ashore this morning, after visiting the wounded, and they re-did the stitches originally in, eighteen. Plus, the damn ear again. The SBA at the time did it in fourteen, but they were a bit large and rough, so it's bound to scar they reckon. But that's not the real issue at the moment," he finished.
"So…?" Green asked, giving a little beckoning gesture with his hands.
"It's still a bit…, disturbing," groping for the right word for a moment, "I'm not exactly comfortable on my own bridge at the moment," he confessed a little abashedly.
"That's unusual,' was his response, sitting back his chair drink in hand, "How so…?"
"You saw the first hit, on A-turret, and the fire," observing a nod in reply, "It left the Bridge in a proper dogs-bollocks, but we've all had at least some experience of messy situations like that at some time," getting another nod in confirmation. "Well, beyond the job it did on my eyebrows and hairline, the thing that's still lingering in my mind is a sort of burning meat smell, even when it's not there. At the time of the turret fire, it didn't register at all, there was too much going on. But since then, even when no one else can smell it, subconsciously in the back of my mind I can still get that sniff of burning meat," he finished with a slightly abashed shake of his head. "Not all that comfortable," He finished, reluctantly meeting his friends gaze opposite.
John just held his gaze, still gently swirling his drink in hand for a moment, before speaking. "You know a couple of the family are serving on the Front, don't you?" Radcliffe nodded. "The thing is both them, back on leave, have had problems sleeping, either the cold sweats or awake in the middle of the night, unable to sleep, which has upset Mama a lot. But neither can recall the event that caused it, and given a week or two leave, these things have stopped.' He paused again, swirling his drink then taking another sip. "They talk a lot of bumph about this LMF guff, Lack-of-Moral-Fiber, and all that, but both the boys are too bloody brave for their own good, so it's all bloody codswallop. But the head doctors are now talking about 'shellshock', and just how different people's minds cope when under stress," he paused meeting Stephens eyes, "It's only been two days' now, and it's still fresh and vivid. You know I was at the Boxer Rebellion in 01, didn't you."
"Yes."
"Well for a month or two, after, I was a bit twitchy, people cut up with blades and all that. Not bad mind you, but there were things going on in the headshop and it took some time off before I would really say I was really back in the groove. All I'd say to you at the moment is that it's still a bit damn soon. You'll be due some leave whenever Australia goes into dock, spend that time with Adria, talk with her and unwind, and see what things are like when you get back. That would be my advice."
"It's just damn uncomfortable at the moment, but I just can't bring myself to use my sea cabin on the bridge for now."
John, snorted, smiling and taking the opportunity to change to a lighter topic. "At least you've got your sleeping cabin. You should see what's left to mine."
Happily grasping the change in topic, Stephen leaned back himself, relaxing, "No…, Battle damage?"
"Yep, one large caliber round detonated in these very spaces,' gesturing around with a sweeping hand, "Absolutely trashed the place. This is loaned kit and all I have until I can visit the tailor. Plus, my steward is absolutely livid, lost all his pantry stores and the like," glancing briefly towards Radcliffe's own pantry hatch. "Till things are fixed unlike you I'll probably be sleeping in my sea cabin forward for the brief while at least."
"You were wearing the piupiu for the action I take it?' enquired Radcliffe, referring to the warrior's skirt made from rolled flax gifted to the ship by the Māori people shortly after commissioning in 1913. [10] At the time, according to the chief who presented the piupiu, it was to be worn during battle to protect the ship and its crew.
"And both of the hei-tiki," referring to another Māori commissioning gift of two greenstone pendants, which were intended to ward off evil. "Who knows he continued, "they could even be said to be effective," with a wry grimace, "after all compared to the rest of the squadron, you could say we only got a few light taps in the end, and at least four hits on the ship failed to detonate, and it was the first time the ship's been hit in action."
"Love taps…, hmmm…, so what was the final damage?" he queried.
"The damage survey's not quite fully done, but it looks like she absorbed eleven main gun hits all up, four of which appeared dud. Strangely enough least one hit on each funnel penetrating or passing right through without detonating, and a fourth appears to have gone right through the ship, midships side to side, behind P-turret. It seems to have hit at a shallow angle and skidded off the armored deck and just kept on going, leaving a damn big gouge and entry and exit holes marking its passage, and little else. Of the other seven, four were largely irrelevant, hitting close to the bow or stern. I told you about my stateroom, the other hit even further aft, right at the very stern. Took the jackstaff clean off and left a big visible five- or six-foot chunk of the poop deck gone. Two others were at the opposite end, one bursting in the chain locker forward that effectively did nothing, and the second in the paint store right at the very bow. Started a small fairly fierce fire, but that was quickly controlled. A fifth hit the conning tower, not doing much aside from leaving a big shiny scar and ringing our teeth. I would say only two hits did a moderate level of damage. One appears very similar to what I can see of one of yours, hitting the boat deck aft. Another fierce fire, but this took longer to extinguish than the paint store one due to the petrol fuel there. The last was probably the worst in terms of combat power, destroying the two casement 4-inch under the foretop. So compared to everyone else, I feel it's fair to say we comparatively lightly, losing just 8 dead, and 11 wounded," then leaning forward with a serious mien asking, "I know yours was a lot worse. What was the final butchers bill?"
Stephen found himself also leaning forward in response, placing his glass down, before quietly resupplying with a bit of a sigh. "Not good, really…, like decimation not good," resting his elbows on the table. "All up, 81 killed and another 32 badly wounded enough to be in hospital ashore. I visited them this morning and possibly half-a-dozen of them are unlikely to make it,' he concluded.
"That bad, I wasn't sure," commiserated John.
"We took 14 large caliber hits in the end. The worse was A-turret, gone completely. 51 all up, turret, gun and magazine crews, shell room and control parties, the lot. Plus, to that also add the bridge casualties from that hit, including the Admiral. In hindsight that was a mistake, we just held on up there for the view, for too long. We were about to move to the conning tower but then it was too late when the shell struck," he finished with a sigh. Then taking up his glass again met his friends gaze across the table, "Absent companions," he proposed, raising his glass in toast to the memory of his former commander, who had also become a firm friend in his term, and after a brief clink of glasses the two finished the toast and settled in a ruminative silence.
After another moment Stephen raised himself to continue, "Which brings me to why I asked you to call," reaching for a prepared report set to one side. "I saw the Port Admiral after the hospital this morning, and with Tiger in dock here, I'll probably be getting my sailing orders for either Devonport or Belfast tomorrow to get repairs done there, he informed me. But before I go, I think you need to read this and assimilate it. This is a summary of our early investigation of what happened in the turret,' gesturing with one hand forward, "prepared by guns, and it's frankly damn worrying," sliding it across the table to his guest. "Honestly I think we were incredibly lucky to dodge a bullet, and Australia could have very easily been joining the other four on the bottom, but for the grace of god. I'm sending this immediately up the line, de Brock, Jellicoe and the Admiralty, but in case of delays I think it's important enough to give you a heads up now." As his friend gathered the papers up, he continued, "If we hadn't had that recent range time at Scapa before our return, and tightened up the storage and munition handling drills as a result, I think we could have lost the magazine and the ship from that hit. I dread thinking what would have occurred had we'd still been following those practices to increase rates of fire Beatty encouraged. The number of exposed charges plus unsecured munitions and hatches would have been inevitably fatal. I can't help but believe this is what has occurred in at least some or all of our losses," he concluded with absolute conviction.
As John commenced to leaf through the presented file he continued, "The shell seems to have penetrated between the turret faceplate and roof and detonated over the right-hand gun, blowing the front roof plate completely off the turret at that point, and killed or wounded everyone in the upper turret. It's only speculation on the exact following sequence, but the magazine doors had been closed and at some stage the magazine flooded. A flash fire ignited the whatever propellant charges remained in the turret working room. They burned violently, with the flames reaching as high as the masthead and caused this," again running his hand over his singed hairline and missing eyebrows, "and killed the remaining magazine and shell room crews still in the lower part of the mounting. The gas pressure has severely buckled the magazine doors, and closed flash screens to the magazine. It's unclear if the magazine had been fully flooded at this point, but it seems probable that it could have exploded if that had not already commenced. (10) We'll probably only find out more details when they actually commence repair work. The damning thing is that in this case we may have been our own worst enemy, by following the speed drills Beatty had encouraged to increase rates of fire," Stephen finished, leaning back in his chair with a huff.
John, with a brief glance at the closed pantry hatch, asked softly, "Are you sure of this…, I mean it's going to be a nasty can of worms when opened?" "I'm confident in what's written down there in the report from what we've found so far onboard," he replied gesturing, "but as to what degree Beatty's involvement is going to be attributed, who knows?" with a slight shrug, "As it is, I think blood is going to flow knee-deep in the gutter in professional terms in the aftermath, whatever we do." After a moment's thought John asked, "Do you think that the Admiralty's going to quash this,' with a brief wave to the report, "is that why you're giving it to me now?"
"With Beatty amongst those lost, no. I can see it being delayed somewhat as every man and his dog start to put their half-penny in, but with him gone, the bottom line is that it's just too important to ignore or try slide under the carpet. I'm just short cutting the process so you and your guns and exec get a head start to line your ducks up in a row, that’s all. Also, the stink about our losses is going to be enormous, and with him dead I can see him becoming a convenient stalking goat for any blame game that gets generated. I'm also under the impression that a few people were already aware that problems existed and were unhappy with the situation." Seeing John nod in agreement he continued, "You know that Admiral Packenham planned to discuss some worries with Hood at dinner before we sailed, but though gunnery was raised, with Captain Pelly present, he elected not to pursue it then. But from the nod and looks they exchanged, I think they'd already had some interaction on the matter earlier, and I'm pretty sure they both intended to get together first chance for further action," pausing, then trailing off "Too late now…," with another sigh.
Both paused, a mutually shared moment of silence and took another sip at their drinks at this before Stephen digressed, "You know Ernie Chatfield got the unexpected posting to captain Iron Duke under Jellicoe at Scapa after the May sortie, didn't you?' he posed. "I'd heard that. A bit unusual seeing as he was Beatty's Flag Captain before." Agreeing, Stephen said, "Yes, but the Admiral implied to me that they had had a disagreement or falling out over a gunnery issue. From what he said he had endorsed a report regarding magazine security by his own gunnery officer (11) and forwarded it up the chain, with an information copy to Beatty, before Beatty could get any input into the matter. Seems that he considered this disloyal as it prevented Beatty from adding his own observations and amendments before others could see it. It's not going to surprise me if that comes out in the wash as it might be relevant to some of the points raised here," pointing to his own report.
"You, don't think Beatty put the kybosh on Chatfield, do you?" he asked with a grimace of distaste, as he considered some of what he knew of Beatty's methods.
"No, not immediately at least. You know Chatfield, he's too good an operator and as straight as an arrow. With his reputation, if he'd done anything too obvious like that, it would only bring attention that Beatty wouldn't want. Now if he stepped into Jellicoe's shoes or got the nod as First Sea Lord down the track, then is when he would have acted. As it is now with his loss it's all moot now."
"Bloody politics is too dirty a game to be playing in wartime," John grumbled.
"Service politics, yes…," he responded sourly, "but some officers still simply see it as a step in peacetime advancement," specifically thinking of Beatty. "In some ways he probably thought he was sending an oh-so-subtle message, you know, dropping him into the opposing camp as he saw it. You've seen him firsthand, working his contacts in the press and having an in with the palace set. You can't tell me that his first priority was always looking after number one, career wise," he finished with damning finality.
"This will probably work for the better you realize," came the mused response. "There's just going to be too much heat from what's happened for there to be any form of coverup. In his absence, he's just going to be too convenient a scapegoat to target, particularly if there is an element of fact and evidence when they start looking. When they start finger-pointing, with his death then no one's going to burn too much capital in his defense, particularly if it protects the service," he concluded.
"No, there is just too much expectation for victory for there to be any attempt at whitewash this time, unlike the Falklands," referring to the 1914 battle. "Actually, I'm pretty sure that's going to be tied in at some stage to whatever the findings are here, what with the loss of Inflexible then. The thing is I recall friends who saw it happen also mention the vivid turret flare, which sounds way to similar to what we saw happen here." Seeing a nod of agreement he continued, "It was always suspect that penetration, what with an 8.2-inch shell. You know our deck armor is too thin, and with plunging fire at range on a stationary target, it's all too likely that was what happened. The thing is a little birdie told me that they'd loaded a heap of additional rounds in the rush to depart, expecting resupply to be difficult, probably more than could be easily or safely stored in the magazine. With the events seen here, if some excess was in the handling or shell rooms outside the magazine then that would fit the facts of the loss then."
"That’s speculation"
"Yes, but you can't tell me no that someone isn't going to make that link, particularly as the report at the time was widely viewed as a whitewash to protect the Navy image then. You can bet someone is going to throw some mud now, simply to stop another similar whitewash this time if they can prevent it."
At this point came a knock on the hatch, and his paymaster Sub-lieutenant poked his head through, "Pardon me for interrupting sir, but the Officer of the Deck is reporting the Dockyard inspection party is mustering ashore and will be arriving shortly, I just thought you should know," before withdrawing.
"No rest for the wicked," he said standing, "I just wanted to make sure you got this in a timely fashion," gesturing at the papers, "When you've finished can you do me a favor and pass them on to Frank Kennedy on Indomitable when you can. I'll list him as an addressee for my after-action report but another copy before then won't go astray. After all, his is the only other remaining I-class left aside from us, so it's especially relevant to him," receiving an acknowledging nod. With both parties now standing, caps in hand, John paused for one last time as they shook hands, holding his for a moment longer. "Stephen, don't forget when Australia's in dock, to take some leave time and spend it with Aria to recuperate. You'll be better for it when you come back, and what would I do without a trusty sidekick?" he finished the last with a half-smile. With that, and a brief confirming nod in response, both turned to the hatchway and resumed their professional mien before heading out to again resume their relentless labor as ship captains.
Aftermath
The action of 22 July 1916, known as the Battle of the Skagerrak or Jutland, would later be often referred to as the Battle of the Battlecruisers, and was perhaps the defining moment in capital ship engagement of World War 1. In a perverse manner for a battle not directly involving a single battleship of either side, it came to irredeemably shape the future employment of both fleets of battleships without either ever actually confronting the other.
That this battle had been conducted without the inclusion of the pre-dreadnought ships in the High Seas Fleet had been a tacit recognition by Admiral Scheer, of the imbalance of forces with the size of the British Home Fleet. The HSF would be unable to force a battle on its own terms and, coupled with the restrictive orders of the Kaiser who preferred to keep the fleet intact to be used as a bargaining chip in the peace settlements, dictated the operational employment of the High Seas Fleet for the remainder of the war. Without a rough equality of forces, the German strategy remained to attempt to engage or lure out portions of the Grand Fleet to situations where they could be destroyed in detail, accompanied by attrition incorporating other methods such as mining and submarines. Subsequent attempts to achieve this strategy would be largely unsuccessful.
The one time this strategy came near to success would occur in April 1918 and in reality, reflect the only actual surface exchange between dreadnaughts of the two fleets for the entire war, for all that it would prove inconclusive. Admiral Scheer would plan to use his light surface forces to attack British convoys to Norway beginning in late 1917. As a result, the Royal Navy attached additional forces, eventually regularly including a squadron of dreadnaughts, to protect the convoys by German Scouting Forces and give fleet elements sea time, which presented Scheer with the possibility of destroying a detached portion of the Grand Fleet. The operation called for Hipper's four remaining battlecruisers to attack the convoy and its escorts on 18 April while again all the available dreadnaughts of the High Seas Fleet sortied in support. As before, this exposure was dependent on the support of Zeppelins and fine weather to provide reconnaissance for the operation to proceed.
The HSF assembled in the Schilling Roads outside Wilhelmshaven and was successful in reaching the convoy route undetected, where the scouting group encountered the four dreadnoughts of the IVth Battle squadron acting as the close covering force for the convoy, Benbow, Vanguard, Bellepheron and Temeraire, on the 19th April. This was to prove to be one of the few occasions that the HSF was to successfully sortie without Room 40 alerting the Grand Fleet in a timely-enough manner to respond effectively. (12) Forced to cover the Norway convoy the British force was severely handled by the arrival of the HSF supporting Hipper, and for a brief moment it appeared that success was imminent to destroy an isolated element of the British Fleet.
Again, as in the Skagerrak Battle the role of the Zeppelin reconnaissance proved vital, alerting Scheer initially of the presence of the Grand Fleet, and then advising him that over 30+ Dreadnaughts, rather than rushing to directly engage him, were moving to cut him off from the safety of the Jade minefields. In many ways this cold-blooded tactical decision was to prove both pragmatic and effective. By avoiding to rush directly to the aid of the engaged force, instead opting to move to cut off the HSF from its secure base, the Grand Fleet again forced the withdrawal of the German force without direct engagement. By accepting the risk of the practical destruction of the IVth BS, the Grand Fleet would have in turn been in place to force engagement of the HSF had it proceeded in this course. Faced again with the agonizing choice, Scheer followed the Kaisers directives to preserve the fleet and broke off the action, even with both the older Bellepheron and Temeraire badly damaged and seemingly at their mercy.
Facing the reality than any delay risked the destruction of the German Fleet in being, and that any ship that was damaged and fell behind risked being caught, he turned his heavy ships away. This was a bitter pill to those crews, even whilst releasing the majority of his smaller vessels to attempt the destruction of the convoy and damaged dreadnoughts. The following large-scale melee would see the sinking of two light cruisers, and two destroyers of the British screen, but it would be largely successful in its defense, with only two of the convoy being sunk, and a further torpedo being put into the struggling Temeraire, all for the cost of seven of the German Torpedo boats and a supporting cruiser.
Jellicoe had sortied with a force of 31 battleships and the six large modern battlecruisers, again on information provided by Room 40, but was just too late to successfully intercept the retreating Germans. Even releasing the Battle cruisers and fast Battleships of the Fifth Battle Squadron in attempt to delay the High Seas Fleet only resulted in a brief inconclusive engagement at extreme range as the Germans successfully evaded interception.
In view of the long-term strategy of the High Seas Fleet to defeat the Grand Fleet in detail, this operation could in some ways be viewed as closest to achieving success during the war. It was the sole occasion of the war that an isolated element of the Grand Fleet was engaged by a numerically superior German force and did in effect reduce the strength of the Grand Fleet. Temeraire would succumb under tow next day, and Bellepheron be torpedoed by U-31, within sight of port, while both Benbow and Vanguard would spend many months undergoing repairs. But this was achieved at the cost of the morale of the High Seas Fleet. Turning away yet again when victory seemed in sight was the final straw that broke the back of the motivation of the lower deck of the High Seas Fleet.
For the British, despite considerable angst and analysis of how such a dangerous situation had been allowed to develop, there remained a clear sense of moral superiority in the Grand Fleet. The essential Service Esprit de Corp and confidence in their history of victory remained unchallenged. That the RN would always have the upper hand in any conflict between the two forces remained an article of faith, and this confidence underpinned the morale and professionalism of the force as the war entered its final year with still no confrontation between the two fleets.
In contrast, since Skagerrak, the resources of the German navy had pivoted towards submarine warfare, with more U-Boats under construction. For all of 1917 elements of the High Seas Fleet mainly operated successfully in the Baltic, supporting the advance of German troops on the Eastern front. Many of the more active officers and crewmen volunteered to transfer to the submarines and light vessels which still had a major part to play in the war. Many of the capital ships of the Imperial Navy had seen reduced activity and had remained in harbor. The discipline and spirit of those who remained, facing lower rations, poor food, lack of recreation and deteriorating war situation, had depended upon their own self-concept as a fighting force. Having turn away from seeming victory a second time proved the breaking point in sustaining faith in their service and resulted in the bitterest disappointment. The loss of pride combined with the living conditions on the largest ships was to prove a fertile ground for agitation, and the failure of discipline and subsequent mutiny that resulted can be in part attributed to this final operation.
It proved the death knell of the German High Seas Fleet as an effective fighting force, leaving a legacy of bitterness and perception of its wartime impotence. When final fleet action was planned for the end of October 1918, days before the Armistice was to take effect. The High Seas Fleet mutinied and refused to sortie from their base in Wilhelmshaven to engage the British Grand Fleet. This action was the trigger for the German revolution which combined with the widespread public disenchantment of the war conduct was to force the Kaiser to abdicate. The resulting armistice was to mark the end of the war and naval operations between the two powers.
The subsequent events of the German revolution, internment of the High Seas Fleet, and eventual scuttling in Scapa Flow in June 1919, all are part of the apathy and profound loss of faith that followed the final operation of the HSF. For Germany, beyond the immediate implications, it would shape a generation of naval officers who would be involved in the subsequent development of the DKM and the German Reich leading up to WW2. It would also have on intrinsic impact of the design philosophy on elements of the new navy under Hitler, for example the construction of larger and more powerful destroyer designs, were symptoms of the operational experiences of the Great War.
Considering the huge size and vast investment of resources and capital that both nations poured into developing and maintaining these two fleets, it was an underwhelming result that they failed to be ever employed in battle as intended. In terms of the vast sums of national capital and resources invested in its development, it raised intrinsic questions about the fundamental costs involved in Mahan's doctrine of developing and maintaining a fleet in being, and the RNs continued insistence of being the world's major naval power. In the post war analysis this would be one of the significant factors driving the Washington Navy Treaty and arms limitations rationale which resulted, and a forceful element in domestic politics as nations struggled to cope with this cost and other legacies of the conflict.
THE END
Concluding Comments
That concludes my contribution and I hope readers have enjoyed it and that perhaps in some way it will make others contribute their own AU effort to the genre. It should be seen in the context of being part of a wider timeline in terms of intent, for all that it represents a stand-alone chapter here. In effect this represents a portrayal of the IRL "Run South" on steroids. Aside from the absence of the pre-dreadnaughts in the HSF in this timeline it is to serve as a more 'in-your-face' demonstration of the capabilities of naval aviation to the traditional big-gun school of thought of the RN, for increased flow on effects in my own AU. That this was to occur nevertheless is indication of the proliferation of flying-off platforms on GF capital ships from 1917 on, but my intent is to help accelerate this awareness amongst the more conservative RN elements.
However, the scenario does lend itself to two further possibilities of greatly interesting AU speculation which I would like to encourage for some exploration, but don't personally feel I have the background to elaborate on, which could be great topics for someone to undertake.
Firstly, is the domestic and political impact in the UK which would be the legacy of the scenario I have outlined. IRL the coincidence in timing with the news of Jutland and the failure of the Somme Offensive virtually merged the two as a single negative impact on the nation. In the timing I have presented the failure of the much-hyped June offensive has been an ongoing slow motion train wreck now in process for 6-7 weeks with little or no sign of the promised success trumpeted by jingoistic press in the lead up. In this atmosphere, the arrival of the news of the failure/defeat at Jutland, which with the scale of losses worse than IRL, can only have had a far longer lasting and greatly more damaging and negative impact on domestic politics in Great Britain. I would be interested to see others who are more familiar with the historic figures and players involved in that scene and what their take on the results would be. I can only imagine it to be far more destabilizing in its impact and what n early loss of confidence could lead too. Early replacement of Haig, or early change of leadership in the government is only one of a vast and undoubtedly interesting array of specualtion that could arise. I hope someone can throw up some interesting thoughts for consideration.
My second thought to generate speculation regards an interesting what-if arising from the absence of pre-dreadnaughts in the HSF. Given the very restrictive HSF rules of engagement and operational freedoms granted by the Kaiser to Scheer, I could very easily see an entire North Sea campaign resulting where there is no actual confrontation between the two fleets during WW1! Even my scenario here only results in conflict between the two screening elements of both fleets, so I find it extraordinarily interesting to consider what would be the consequences after the war if neither fleet was ever in battle. Even IRL this only occurred the single time, and with my scenario such a non-event is quite possible. I encourage others to speculate on postwar outcomes in the 'no more war' atmosphere after the armistice. Considering the vast amounts of national treasure invested by both nations invested into these prestige institutions, what would have been the fallout if they were never employed? It's fascinating to consider how would the traditionist big gun schools of thought justified or rationalized the continued existence of such large forces in this event, in the face of anti-war sentiment. How would Mahan's traditional 'Fleet-in-being' concept of Navy been able to have been defended in light of the enormous cost of war and a perceived 'failure' for the fleets to contribute in any way to the conflict's outcome. There exists a vast array of speculation of what the outcome could be during the 20s and 30s if you put your mind to it.
I'll conclude with those thoughts and hope someone finds them sufficiently interesting to run with. As always, I look forward to your responses and hope you enjoyed my work.
Regards Tangles
10. IRL HMS New Zealand received several gifts including two greenstone hei-tiki (pendants), which were intended to ward off evil, and a Māori piupiu (a warrior's skirt made from rolled flax). According to legend the if the captain wore it during battle it would protect the ship and its crew. As a result, it became a ship tradition practiced throughout WW1.
11. This paraphrases the actual report into the damage resulting from turret fire of Q-turret of HMS Lion which nearly resulted in its loss except for the act of exceptional personal bravery earlier detailed.
12. IRL the HSF successfully sortied without detection on April 18 as detailed. Unfortunately, the intelligence it was acting upon was incorrect and it missed the intended target convoy by 24 hours. My narrative is purely speculation in this instance, and incorporating a Zeppelin component involvement as detailed, had such an interception been successful.
0935 24 July 1916, Rosyth, Firth of Forth, HMNS Australia.
Captain Stephen Radcliffe found himself with a headache, both literally and figuratively speaking, sitting in his day cabin struggling finalizing the draft of his after-action report, when a ships messenger rapped sharply twice on the doorway and announced, "Officer of the deck reports Captains gig from Nieuw Zeeland is approaching, Sir." Wincing slightly at the noise, he nevertheless straightened, welcoming the break and responded, "Very well, let him know I'll be up shortly. That is all," watching as the runner withdrew and turned disappearing out of his day cabin, before standing and leaving the paperwork on his desk as he reached for his hanging hat. "Did you catch that, Stuart?" he asked as he gingerly placed it upon his head, looking towards the door to the adjacent pantry. "Aye Sir," came the response as his steward appeared at the hatch, "Do you want anything special prepared for Captain Green?" he queried, watching as Radcliffe tried to perch his hat on the wrapped bandage around his head. "No, probably just the usual, but we should be down shortly," ducking out the hatch and heading down the passage. He was just in time reaching the quarter deck as he could see the eight oared gig just tossing its oars as it drew alongside. A brief delay then the head of the Nieuw Zeeland's Captain, John Green, appeared at the head of the accommodation ladder. The side party were in their places the visit being expected, the Bosuns mates piped shrill call sounding as Nieuw Zeeland's captain reached the head of the ladder, right arm raised in salute. The pipe finished and Radcliffe stepped forward, both sharing lop-sided grins as they shook hands. "It's damn good to see you again Steve," he said, releasing his grip. "I was afraid I mightn't see you again, for a while," almost repeating himself. "You and me both, Jimmy" he said, releasing his grip and gestured, "Shall we adjourn to my cabin?" and both headed for the gangway off the quarterdeck leading to his accommodation.
A short time later back in his day cabin, they settled into two chairs with his steward attending, "Thank you Stuart, that'll be all. Drink?" gesturing to the glasses and plate of biscuits on the table.
"I shouldn't, but since we aren't technically at sea, I'll have the usual."
"Two short Gin and tonics, please Stuart."
"Aye-aye, Sir." and shortly thereafter departing leaving the biscuits and two glasses on the low table between them and withdrawing.
"Your health, Good Sir." Green offered with a raised glass, and after a brief tap of drinks and sip, placed his glass down before him and, meeting his gaze asked in a more serious tone, "Eyebrows aside, you look a bit haggard Steve. Seriously, how are you after all this?" with a gesture to the bandage around his head.
Unconsciously, with his hat off he found himself reaching up to his burnt eyebrows, then running his fingers up to the crisped remnant of his hairline in response. Looking at the earnest face of his friend opposite, Radcliffe paused for a moment, briefly considering how candidly to reply. Before recent times, the two had not served together, and Green had left Britannia a year before Radcliffe started, so they had largely been strangers. But for the past year the two had been part of that small sub-group of Royal Navy officers who had commanded warships of their antipodean cousins. That shared time and the experience of turning that distinctly different mindset into a cohesive crew had turned them into firm friends.
"Physically," he replied, "I'm so-so for now, but on the mend," rocking his hand, fingers spread. "The shakes and dizziness are largely gone, just this thumping head-ache that comes and goes," touching his still bandage wrapped skull, "and wearing a bloody cap doesn't help that either."
"It looks like it's going to leave a ripper scar eventually," came the retort, with a slight nod and a grin, "I hope Adria approves."
"Well, I saw the Quacks ashore this morning, after visiting the wounded, and they re-did the stitches originally in, eighteen. Plus, the damn ear again. The SBA at the time did it in fourteen, but they were a bit large and rough, so it's bound to scar they reckon. But that's not the real issue at the moment," he finished.
"So…?" Green asked, giving a little beckoning gesture with his hands.
"It's still a bit…, disturbing," groping for the right word for a moment, "I'm not exactly comfortable on my own bridge at the moment," he confessed a little abashedly.
"That's unusual,' was his response, sitting back his chair drink in hand, "How so…?"
"You saw the first hit, on A-turret, and the fire," observing a nod in reply, "It left the Bridge in a proper dogs-bollocks, but we've all had at least some experience of messy situations like that at some time," getting another nod in confirmation. "Well, beyond the job it did on my eyebrows and hairline, the thing that's still lingering in my mind is a sort of burning meat smell, even when it's not there. At the time of the turret fire, it didn't register at all, there was too much going on. But since then, even when no one else can smell it, subconsciously in the back of my mind I can still get that sniff of burning meat," he finished with a slightly abashed shake of his head. "Not all that comfortable," He finished, reluctantly meeting his friends gaze opposite.
John just held his gaze, still gently swirling his drink in hand for a moment, before speaking. "You know a couple of the family are serving on the Front, don't you?" Radcliffe nodded. "The thing is both them, back on leave, have had problems sleeping, either the cold sweats or awake in the middle of the night, unable to sleep, which has upset Mama a lot. But neither can recall the event that caused it, and given a week or two leave, these things have stopped.' He paused again, swirling his drink then taking another sip. "They talk a lot of bumph about this LMF guff, Lack-of-Moral-Fiber, and all that, but both the boys are too bloody brave for their own good, so it's all bloody codswallop. But the head doctors are now talking about 'shellshock', and just how different people's minds cope when under stress," he paused meeting Stephens eyes, "It's only been two days' now, and it's still fresh and vivid. You know I was at the Boxer Rebellion in 01, didn't you."
"Yes."
"Well for a month or two, after, I was a bit twitchy, people cut up with blades and all that. Not bad mind you, but there were things going on in the headshop and it took some time off before I would really say I was really back in the groove. All I'd say to you at the moment is that it's still a bit damn soon. You'll be due some leave whenever Australia goes into dock, spend that time with Adria, talk with her and unwind, and see what things are like when you get back. That would be my advice."
"It's just damn uncomfortable at the moment, but I just can't bring myself to use my sea cabin on the bridge for now."
John, snorted, smiling and taking the opportunity to change to a lighter topic. "At least you've got your sleeping cabin. You should see what's left to mine."
Happily grasping the change in topic, Stephen leaned back himself, relaxing, "No…, Battle damage?"
"Yep, one large caliber round detonated in these very spaces,' gesturing around with a sweeping hand, "Absolutely trashed the place. This is loaned kit and all I have until I can visit the tailor. Plus, my steward is absolutely livid, lost all his pantry stores and the like," glancing briefly towards Radcliffe's own pantry hatch. "Till things are fixed unlike you I'll probably be sleeping in my sea cabin forward for the brief while at least."
"You were wearing the piupiu for the action I take it?' enquired Radcliffe, referring to the warrior's skirt made from rolled flax gifted to the ship by the Māori people shortly after commissioning in 1913. [10] At the time, according to the chief who presented the piupiu, it was to be worn during battle to protect the ship and its crew.
"And both of the hei-tiki," referring to another Māori commissioning gift of two greenstone pendants, which were intended to ward off evil. "Who knows he continued, "they could even be said to be effective," with a wry grimace, "after all compared to the rest of the squadron, you could say we only got a few light taps in the end, and at least four hits on the ship failed to detonate, and it was the first time the ship's been hit in action."
"Love taps…, hmmm…, so what was the final damage?" he queried.
"The damage survey's not quite fully done, but it looks like she absorbed eleven main gun hits all up, four of which appeared dud. Strangely enough least one hit on each funnel penetrating or passing right through without detonating, and a fourth appears to have gone right through the ship, midships side to side, behind P-turret. It seems to have hit at a shallow angle and skidded off the armored deck and just kept on going, leaving a damn big gouge and entry and exit holes marking its passage, and little else. Of the other seven, four were largely irrelevant, hitting close to the bow or stern. I told you about my stateroom, the other hit even further aft, right at the very stern. Took the jackstaff clean off and left a big visible five- or six-foot chunk of the poop deck gone. Two others were at the opposite end, one bursting in the chain locker forward that effectively did nothing, and the second in the paint store right at the very bow. Started a small fairly fierce fire, but that was quickly controlled. A fifth hit the conning tower, not doing much aside from leaving a big shiny scar and ringing our teeth. I would say only two hits did a moderate level of damage. One appears very similar to what I can see of one of yours, hitting the boat deck aft. Another fierce fire, but this took longer to extinguish than the paint store one due to the petrol fuel there. The last was probably the worst in terms of combat power, destroying the two casement 4-inch under the foretop. So compared to everyone else, I feel it's fair to say we comparatively lightly, losing just 8 dead, and 11 wounded," then leaning forward with a serious mien asking, "I know yours was a lot worse. What was the final butchers bill?"
Stephen found himself also leaning forward in response, placing his glass down, before quietly resupplying with a bit of a sigh. "Not good, really…, like decimation not good," resting his elbows on the table. "All up, 81 killed and another 32 badly wounded enough to be in hospital ashore. I visited them this morning and possibly half-a-dozen of them are unlikely to make it,' he concluded.
"That bad, I wasn't sure," commiserated John.
"We took 14 large caliber hits in the end. The worse was A-turret, gone completely. 51 all up, turret, gun and magazine crews, shell room and control parties, the lot. Plus, to that also add the bridge casualties from that hit, including the Admiral. In hindsight that was a mistake, we just held on up there for the view, for too long. We were about to move to the conning tower but then it was too late when the shell struck," he finished with a sigh. Then taking up his glass again met his friends gaze across the table, "Absent companions," he proposed, raising his glass in toast to the memory of his former commander, who had also become a firm friend in his term, and after a brief clink of glasses the two finished the toast and settled in a ruminative silence.
After another moment Stephen raised himself to continue, "Which brings me to why I asked you to call," reaching for a prepared report set to one side. "I saw the Port Admiral after the hospital this morning, and with Tiger in dock here, I'll probably be getting my sailing orders for either Devonport or Belfast tomorrow to get repairs done there, he informed me. But before I go, I think you need to read this and assimilate it. This is a summary of our early investigation of what happened in the turret,' gesturing with one hand forward, "prepared by guns, and it's frankly damn worrying," sliding it across the table to his guest. "Honestly I think we were incredibly lucky to dodge a bullet, and Australia could have very easily been joining the other four on the bottom, but for the grace of god. I'm sending this immediately up the line, de Brock, Jellicoe and the Admiralty, but in case of delays I think it's important enough to give you a heads up now." As his friend gathered the papers up, he continued, "If we hadn't had that recent range time at Scapa before our return, and tightened up the storage and munition handling drills as a result, I think we could have lost the magazine and the ship from that hit. I dread thinking what would have occurred had we'd still been following those practices to increase rates of fire Beatty encouraged. The number of exposed charges plus unsecured munitions and hatches would have been inevitably fatal. I can't help but believe this is what has occurred in at least some or all of our losses," he concluded with absolute conviction.
As John commenced to leaf through the presented file he continued, "The shell seems to have penetrated between the turret faceplate and roof and detonated over the right-hand gun, blowing the front roof plate completely off the turret at that point, and killed or wounded everyone in the upper turret. It's only speculation on the exact following sequence, but the magazine doors had been closed and at some stage the magazine flooded. A flash fire ignited the whatever propellant charges remained in the turret working room. They burned violently, with the flames reaching as high as the masthead and caused this," again running his hand over his singed hairline and missing eyebrows, "and killed the remaining magazine and shell room crews still in the lower part of the mounting. The gas pressure has severely buckled the magazine doors, and closed flash screens to the magazine. It's unclear if the magazine had been fully flooded at this point, but it seems probable that it could have exploded if that had not already commenced. (10) We'll probably only find out more details when they actually commence repair work. The damning thing is that in this case we may have been our own worst enemy, by following the speed drills Beatty had encouraged to increase rates of fire," Stephen finished, leaning back in his chair with a huff.
John, with a brief glance at the closed pantry hatch, asked softly, "Are you sure of this…, I mean it's going to be a nasty can of worms when opened?" "I'm confident in what's written down there in the report from what we've found so far onboard," he replied gesturing, "but as to what degree Beatty's involvement is going to be attributed, who knows?" with a slight shrug, "As it is, I think blood is going to flow knee-deep in the gutter in professional terms in the aftermath, whatever we do." After a moment's thought John asked, "Do you think that the Admiralty's going to quash this,' with a brief wave to the report, "is that why you're giving it to me now?"
"With Beatty amongst those lost, no. I can see it being delayed somewhat as every man and his dog start to put their half-penny in, but with him gone, the bottom line is that it's just too important to ignore or try slide under the carpet. I'm just short cutting the process so you and your guns and exec get a head start to line your ducks up in a row, that’s all. Also, the stink about our losses is going to be enormous, and with him dead I can see him becoming a convenient stalking goat for any blame game that gets generated. I'm also under the impression that a few people were already aware that problems existed and were unhappy with the situation." Seeing John nod in agreement he continued, "You know that Admiral Packenham planned to discuss some worries with Hood at dinner before we sailed, but though gunnery was raised, with Captain Pelly present, he elected not to pursue it then. But from the nod and looks they exchanged, I think they'd already had some interaction on the matter earlier, and I'm pretty sure they both intended to get together first chance for further action," pausing, then trailing off "Too late now…," with another sigh.
Both paused, a mutually shared moment of silence and took another sip at their drinks at this before Stephen digressed, "You know Ernie Chatfield got the unexpected posting to captain Iron Duke under Jellicoe at Scapa after the May sortie, didn't you?' he posed. "I'd heard that. A bit unusual seeing as he was Beatty's Flag Captain before." Agreeing, Stephen said, "Yes, but the Admiral implied to me that they had had a disagreement or falling out over a gunnery issue. From what he said he had endorsed a report regarding magazine security by his own gunnery officer (11) and forwarded it up the chain, with an information copy to Beatty, before Beatty could get any input into the matter. Seems that he considered this disloyal as it prevented Beatty from adding his own observations and amendments before others could see it. It's not going to surprise me if that comes out in the wash as it might be relevant to some of the points raised here," pointing to his own report.
"You, don't think Beatty put the kybosh on Chatfield, do you?" he asked with a grimace of distaste, as he considered some of what he knew of Beatty's methods.
"No, not immediately at least. You know Chatfield, he's too good an operator and as straight as an arrow. With his reputation, if he'd done anything too obvious like that, it would only bring attention that Beatty wouldn't want. Now if he stepped into Jellicoe's shoes or got the nod as First Sea Lord down the track, then is when he would have acted. As it is now with his loss it's all moot now."
"Bloody politics is too dirty a game to be playing in wartime," John grumbled.
"Service politics, yes…," he responded sourly, "but some officers still simply see it as a step in peacetime advancement," specifically thinking of Beatty. "In some ways he probably thought he was sending an oh-so-subtle message, you know, dropping him into the opposing camp as he saw it. You've seen him firsthand, working his contacts in the press and having an in with the palace set. You can't tell me that his first priority was always looking after number one, career wise," he finished with damning finality.
"This will probably work for the better you realize," came the mused response. "There's just going to be too much heat from what's happened for there to be any form of coverup. In his absence, he's just going to be too convenient a scapegoat to target, particularly if there is an element of fact and evidence when they start looking. When they start finger-pointing, with his death then no one's going to burn too much capital in his defense, particularly if it protects the service," he concluded.
"No, there is just too much expectation for victory for there to be any attempt at whitewash this time, unlike the Falklands," referring to the 1914 battle. "Actually, I'm pretty sure that's going to be tied in at some stage to whatever the findings are here, what with the loss of Inflexible then. The thing is I recall friends who saw it happen also mention the vivid turret flare, which sounds way to similar to what we saw happen here." Seeing a nod of agreement he continued, "It was always suspect that penetration, what with an 8.2-inch shell. You know our deck armor is too thin, and with plunging fire at range on a stationary target, it's all too likely that was what happened. The thing is a little birdie told me that they'd loaded a heap of additional rounds in the rush to depart, expecting resupply to be difficult, probably more than could be easily or safely stored in the magazine. With the events seen here, if some excess was in the handling or shell rooms outside the magazine then that would fit the facts of the loss then."
"That’s speculation"
"Yes, but you can't tell me no that someone isn't going to make that link, particularly as the report at the time was widely viewed as a whitewash to protect the Navy image then. You can bet someone is going to throw some mud now, simply to stop another similar whitewash this time if they can prevent it."
At this point came a knock on the hatch, and his paymaster Sub-lieutenant poked his head through, "Pardon me for interrupting sir, but the Officer of the Deck is reporting the Dockyard inspection party is mustering ashore and will be arriving shortly, I just thought you should know," before withdrawing.
"No rest for the wicked," he said standing, "I just wanted to make sure you got this in a timely fashion," gesturing at the papers, "When you've finished can you do me a favor and pass them on to Frank Kennedy on Indomitable when you can. I'll list him as an addressee for my after-action report but another copy before then won't go astray. After all, his is the only other remaining I-class left aside from us, so it's especially relevant to him," receiving an acknowledging nod. With both parties now standing, caps in hand, John paused for one last time as they shook hands, holding his for a moment longer. "Stephen, don't forget when Australia's in dock, to take some leave time and spend it with Aria to recuperate. You'll be better for it when you come back, and what would I do without a trusty sidekick?" he finished the last with a half-smile. With that, and a brief confirming nod in response, both turned to the hatchway and resumed their professional mien before heading out to again resume their relentless labor as ship captains.
Aftermath
The action of 22 July 1916, known as the Battle of the Skagerrak or Jutland, would later be often referred to as the Battle of the Battlecruisers, and was perhaps the defining moment in capital ship engagement of World War 1. In a perverse manner for a battle not directly involving a single battleship of either side, it came to irredeemably shape the future employment of both fleets of battleships without either ever actually confronting the other.
That this battle had been conducted without the inclusion of the pre-dreadnought ships in the High Seas Fleet had been a tacit recognition by Admiral Scheer, of the imbalance of forces with the size of the British Home Fleet. The HSF would be unable to force a battle on its own terms and, coupled with the restrictive orders of the Kaiser who preferred to keep the fleet intact to be used as a bargaining chip in the peace settlements, dictated the operational employment of the High Seas Fleet for the remainder of the war. Without a rough equality of forces, the German strategy remained to attempt to engage or lure out portions of the Grand Fleet to situations where they could be destroyed in detail, accompanied by attrition incorporating other methods such as mining and submarines. Subsequent attempts to achieve this strategy would be largely unsuccessful.
The one time this strategy came near to success would occur in April 1918 and in reality, reflect the only actual surface exchange between dreadnaughts of the two fleets for the entire war, for all that it would prove inconclusive. Admiral Scheer would plan to use his light surface forces to attack British convoys to Norway beginning in late 1917. As a result, the Royal Navy attached additional forces, eventually regularly including a squadron of dreadnaughts, to protect the convoys by German Scouting Forces and give fleet elements sea time, which presented Scheer with the possibility of destroying a detached portion of the Grand Fleet. The operation called for Hipper's four remaining battlecruisers to attack the convoy and its escorts on 18 April while again all the available dreadnaughts of the High Seas Fleet sortied in support. As before, this exposure was dependent on the support of Zeppelins and fine weather to provide reconnaissance for the operation to proceed.
The HSF assembled in the Schilling Roads outside Wilhelmshaven and was successful in reaching the convoy route undetected, where the scouting group encountered the four dreadnoughts of the IVth Battle squadron acting as the close covering force for the convoy, Benbow, Vanguard, Bellepheron and Temeraire, on the 19th April. This was to prove to be one of the few occasions that the HSF was to successfully sortie without Room 40 alerting the Grand Fleet in a timely-enough manner to respond effectively. (12) Forced to cover the Norway convoy the British force was severely handled by the arrival of the HSF supporting Hipper, and for a brief moment it appeared that success was imminent to destroy an isolated element of the British Fleet.
Again, as in the Skagerrak Battle the role of the Zeppelin reconnaissance proved vital, alerting Scheer initially of the presence of the Grand Fleet, and then advising him that over 30+ Dreadnaughts, rather than rushing to directly engage him, were moving to cut him off from the safety of the Jade minefields. In many ways this cold-blooded tactical decision was to prove both pragmatic and effective. By avoiding to rush directly to the aid of the engaged force, instead opting to move to cut off the HSF from its secure base, the Grand Fleet again forced the withdrawal of the German force without direct engagement. By accepting the risk of the practical destruction of the IVth BS, the Grand Fleet would have in turn been in place to force engagement of the HSF had it proceeded in this course. Faced again with the agonizing choice, Scheer followed the Kaisers directives to preserve the fleet and broke off the action, even with both the older Bellepheron and Temeraire badly damaged and seemingly at their mercy.
Facing the reality than any delay risked the destruction of the German Fleet in being, and that any ship that was damaged and fell behind risked being caught, he turned his heavy ships away. This was a bitter pill to those crews, even whilst releasing the majority of his smaller vessels to attempt the destruction of the convoy and damaged dreadnoughts. The following large-scale melee would see the sinking of two light cruisers, and two destroyers of the British screen, but it would be largely successful in its defense, with only two of the convoy being sunk, and a further torpedo being put into the struggling Temeraire, all for the cost of seven of the German Torpedo boats and a supporting cruiser.
Jellicoe had sortied with a force of 31 battleships and the six large modern battlecruisers, again on information provided by Room 40, but was just too late to successfully intercept the retreating Germans. Even releasing the Battle cruisers and fast Battleships of the Fifth Battle Squadron in attempt to delay the High Seas Fleet only resulted in a brief inconclusive engagement at extreme range as the Germans successfully evaded interception.
In view of the long-term strategy of the High Seas Fleet to defeat the Grand Fleet in detail, this operation could in some ways be viewed as closest to achieving success during the war. It was the sole occasion of the war that an isolated element of the Grand Fleet was engaged by a numerically superior German force and did in effect reduce the strength of the Grand Fleet. Temeraire would succumb under tow next day, and Bellepheron be torpedoed by U-31, within sight of port, while both Benbow and Vanguard would spend many months undergoing repairs. But this was achieved at the cost of the morale of the High Seas Fleet. Turning away yet again when victory seemed in sight was the final straw that broke the back of the motivation of the lower deck of the High Seas Fleet.
For the British, despite considerable angst and analysis of how such a dangerous situation had been allowed to develop, there remained a clear sense of moral superiority in the Grand Fleet. The essential Service Esprit de Corp and confidence in their history of victory remained unchallenged. That the RN would always have the upper hand in any conflict between the two forces remained an article of faith, and this confidence underpinned the morale and professionalism of the force as the war entered its final year with still no confrontation between the two fleets.
In contrast, since Skagerrak, the resources of the German navy had pivoted towards submarine warfare, with more U-Boats under construction. For all of 1917 elements of the High Seas Fleet mainly operated successfully in the Baltic, supporting the advance of German troops on the Eastern front. Many of the more active officers and crewmen volunteered to transfer to the submarines and light vessels which still had a major part to play in the war. Many of the capital ships of the Imperial Navy had seen reduced activity and had remained in harbor. The discipline and spirit of those who remained, facing lower rations, poor food, lack of recreation and deteriorating war situation, had depended upon their own self-concept as a fighting force. Having turn away from seeming victory a second time proved the breaking point in sustaining faith in their service and resulted in the bitterest disappointment. The loss of pride combined with the living conditions on the largest ships was to prove a fertile ground for agitation, and the failure of discipline and subsequent mutiny that resulted can be in part attributed to this final operation.
It proved the death knell of the German High Seas Fleet as an effective fighting force, leaving a legacy of bitterness and perception of its wartime impotence. When final fleet action was planned for the end of October 1918, days before the Armistice was to take effect. The High Seas Fleet mutinied and refused to sortie from their base in Wilhelmshaven to engage the British Grand Fleet. This action was the trigger for the German revolution which combined with the widespread public disenchantment of the war conduct was to force the Kaiser to abdicate. The resulting armistice was to mark the end of the war and naval operations between the two powers.
The subsequent events of the German revolution, internment of the High Seas Fleet, and eventual scuttling in Scapa Flow in June 1919, all are part of the apathy and profound loss of faith that followed the final operation of the HSF. For Germany, beyond the immediate implications, it would shape a generation of naval officers who would be involved in the subsequent development of the DKM and the German Reich leading up to WW2. It would also have on intrinsic impact of the design philosophy on elements of the new navy under Hitler, for example the construction of larger and more powerful destroyer designs, were symptoms of the operational experiences of the Great War.
Considering the huge size and vast investment of resources and capital that both nations poured into developing and maintaining these two fleets, it was an underwhelming result that they failed to be ever employed in battle as intended. In terms of the vast sums of national capital and resources invested in its development, it raised intrinsic questions about the fundamental costs involved in Mahan's doctrine of developing and maintaining a fleet in being, and the RNs continued insistence of being the world's major naval power. In the post war analysis this would be one of the significant factors driving the Washington Navy Treaty and arms limitations rationale which resulted, and a forceful element in domestic politics as nations struggled to cope with this cost and other legacies of the conflict.
THE END
Concluding Comments
That concludes my contribution and I hope readers have enjoyed it and that perhaps in some way it will make others contribute their own AU effort to the genre. It should be seen in the context of being part of a wider timeline in terms of intent, for all that it represents a stand-alone chapter here. In effect this represents a portrayal of the IRL "Run South" on steroids. Aside from the absence of the pre-dreadnaughts in the HSF in this timeline it is to serve as a more 'in-your-face' demonstration of the capabilities of naval aviation to the traditional big-gun school of thought of the RN, for increased flow on effects in my own AU. That this was to occur nevertheless is indication of the proliferation of flying-off platforms on GF capital ships from 1917 on, but my intent is to help accelerate this awareness amongst the more conservative RN elements.
However, the scenario does lend itself to two further possibilities of greatly interesting AU speculation which I would like to encourage for some exploration, but don't personally feel I have the background to elaborate on, which could be great topics for someone to undertake.
Firstly, is the domestic and political impact in the UK which would be the legacy of the scenario I have outlined. IRL the coincidence in timing with the news of Jutland and the failure of the Somme Offensive virtually merged the two as a single negative impact on the nation. In the timing I have presented the failure of the much-hyped June offensive has been an ongoing slow motion train wreck now in process for 6-7 weeks with little or no sign of the promised success trumpeted by jingoistic press in the lead up. In this atmosphere, the arrival of the news of the failure/defeat at Jutland, which with the scale of losses worse than IRL, can only have had a far longer lasting and greatly more damaging and negative impact on domestic politics in Great Britain. I would be interested to see others who are more familiar with the historic figures and players involved in that scene and what their take on the results would be. I can only imagine it to be far more destabilizing in its impact and what n early loss of confidence could lead too. Early replacement of Haig, or early change of leadership in the government is only one of a vast and undoubtedly interesting array of specualtion that could arise. I hope someone can throw up some interesting thoughts for consideration.
My second thought to generate speculation regards an interesting what-if arising from the absence of pre-dreadnaughts in the HSF. Given the very restrictive HSF rules of engagement and operational freedoms granted by the Kaiser to Scheer, I could very easily see an entire North Sea campaign resulting where there is no actual confrontation between the two fleets during WW1! Even my scenario here only results in conflict between the two screening elements of both fleets, so I find it extraordinarily interesting to consider what would be the consequences after the war if neither fleet was ever in battle. Even IRL this only occurred the single time, and with my scenario such a non-event is quite possible. I encourage others to speculate on postwar outcomes in the 'no more war' atmosphere after the armistice. Considering the vast amounts of national treasure invested by both nations invested into these prestige institutions, what would have been the fallout if they were never employed? It's fascinating to consider how would the traditionist big gun schools of thought justified or rationalized the continued existence of such large forces in this event, in the face of anti-war sentiment. How would Mahan's traditional 'Fleet-in-being' concept of Navy been able to have been defended in light of the enormous cost of war and a perceived 'failure' for the fleets to contribute in any way to the conflict's outcome. There exists a vast array of speculation of what the outcome could be during the 20s and 30s if you put your mind to it.
I'll conclude with those thoughts and hope someone finds them sufficiently interesting to run with. As always, I look forward to your responses and hope you enjoyed my work.
Regards Tangles
10. IRL HMS New Zealand received several gifts including two greenstone hei-tiki (pendants), which were intended to ward off evil, and a Māori piupiu (a warrior's skirt made from rolled flax). According to legend the if the captain wore it during battle it would protect the ship and its crew. As a result, it became a ship tradition practiced throughout WW1.
11. This paraphrases the actual report into the damage resulting from turret fire of Q-turret of HMS Lion which nearly resulted in its loss except for the act of exceptional personal bravery earlier detailed.
12. IRL the HSF successfully sortied without detection on April 18 as detailed. Unfortunately, the intelligence it was acting upon was incorrect and it missed the intended target convoy by 24 hours. My narrative is purely speculation in this instance, and incorporating a Zeppelin component involvement as detailed, had such an interception been successful.
I've heard anecdotal variations on the impact and employment of the report, but it is undoubted that it was generated, if the degree implemented is open to interpretation. The thing is that the Lion turret fire was undoubtedly delayed, giving time for the flooding as detailed. But the damage report still nevertheless give indication that the door had still buckled despite the flooding. I've used a far shortened timeframe as a narrative device to remove Beatty, so in this scenario the flash fire occurs before flooding, so who knows, it could have failed regardless.