*This article was submitted in the Prize Essay Contest, 1939.
"A sense for the facts was the main condition for success.”—Tirpitz
Grand admiral von tirpitz was Secretary of the Navy in Germany for 18 consecutive years, during which time he brought an insignificant fleet up to second place in numbers and first place in quality of individual ships. The technique by which he achieved such remarkable results is of interest, not only because his product was tested in battle and its features, good and bad, lifted out of the realm of debate into that of established fact; but also because our Navy is engaged in a building race similar to that in which Tirpitz was so successful. In the belief that the basic conceptions and working methods, as well as the hits and misses, of this father of a navy can be profitably reviewed, these pages are written.
This astute Admiral’s phenomenal achievements were due mostly to the following factors: He knew exactly what he wanted, why he wanted it, and how to get it; he had the ability and the force of character to carry through his plans; and he was supported by loyal assistants who had learned how to work. None of these things were accidents.
His knowledge of what he wanted originated in habits of study and reflection. This indefatigable reader had devoured everything available on naval war, besides much on military operations; and, in the traditionally studious Imperial Navy, such literature must have been extensive. He profited from history to an unusual degree because of his keenly penetrating mind which, instead of losing itself in a fog of trivialities, methodically stripped away nonessentials and grasped unerringly the real point of other men’s experience. He was not content with a mere knowledge of events, but studied them until he found their true significance—a sharp contrast to the average man’s way of merely reading himself stupid.
The first conspicuous result of this gift for critical and thorough analysis was his perception of the cause for the hazy and shifting building policies of which the Reichstag justifiably complained. He pointed out to the Emperor that it was the lack of reasonable unanimity of opinion on strategy and tactics. Since warship design was merely applied tactics which in turn depended partly upon strategy, the first step was to settle strategy and tactics. That Tirpitz might do this, he was made Chief of Staff of the Executive Command in 1892. Of the tactical ideas he threshed out, the first was that battle is the object and center of gravity of all tactical development. Others were that the unit should be a squadron of 8 ships, and that the squadron commanders should exercise initiative and act according to circumstances. The soundness of this doctrine was demonstrated at Jutland when Behncke led Squadron III around to the eastward in Hipper’s wake instead of continuing on the northward course designated by Scheer. But for this, the High Seas Fleet would have put its foot into one of the most deadly tactical traps in history. In the same battle, the British discovered they had centered control too rigidly in the fleet flagship for most effective maneuvering of so long a battle line. Tirpitz also developed the idea that the wedge, square, and other queer formations of the day must be superseded by column as the normal disposition for fighting.
In the realm of strategy, the Executive Command concluded that German sea power could be exerted more effectively through a battle fleet than through a raiding fleet. It did not aim at the most powerful battle fleet; merely one of definite alliance value which would also eliminate the necessity for elaborate coast defense works. Although the alliance value turned out to be more than offset by the resultant enmity of England, and new weapons subsequently simplified the problem of preventing invasion, this decision must have seemed sound in a day when they had not yet awakened to the fatal strategic handicap of their geographic location. At any rate, the co-operative working out of these ideas, instead of imposing them by superior authority, resulted in a definitely formed service opinion on strategy and tactics.
Tirpitz’s knowledge of how to get what he wanted came mostly from his valuable experience in torpedo development. When first assigned to torpedoes in 1877, he began by working with his own hands to get an intimate practical knowledge of these weapons. The result was his conclusion that the first essential was accurate workmanship which, he believed, could best be attained by the establishment of state torpedo shops. These he advocated, secured, built, and managed with such conspicuous success that, in 1886, Caprivi made him Inspector of Torpedoes. As such, he became responsible for torpedoes, torpedo boats, training, and tactics; in fact, he was the father of all these things in the Imperial Navy. The standard of excellence attained was an unmistakable indication of his unique capacity for getting practical results. Thus, in developing one arm of the Navy from the toy stage to that of genuine effectiveness, he gained experience of tremendous value while developing his talents and character for the greater task. The building-up of the whole Navy was merely the same thing on a larger scale.
That he had devoted, painstaking, hardworking assistants was due partly to national characteristics, partly to his military predecessors in the Secretaryship, and partly to himself. The Navy had been run from 1871 to 1888 by two generals, first Stosch and then Caprivi. Although some of their naval ideas had been ridiculous, Tirpitz credits them with having taught the Navy how to work—a job thoroughly done, as anyone can testify whose ship has ever been anchored close to a German man-of-war. The soldiers were also responsible for the establishment of a staff college and a war staff, both of which were invaluable for training officers in real thinking. Furthermore, Tirpitz was an enthusiastic and meticulous worker whose example was contagious. Finally, he encouraged his subordinates in independence of view and in arriving at correct conclusions themselves, instead of brusquely imposing his own decisions. Such leadership was bound to result in loyal support.
This astounding executive had his troubles when he became Secretary of the Navy, for he was saddled with an almost unworkable organization. The Emperor, who had been flattered into believing himself an expert in everything and thoroughly enjoyed meddling, had divided the Navy among three coequal heads, each responsible only to the Supreme War Lord. The result was that the co-ordination of the disunited Navy depended upon an inexperienced and overconfident sovereign who lacked time for the job, even if he had been qualified.
To make matters worse, the Chief of the Naval Cabinet, coequal with Tirpitz, though supposed to advise the Emperor only on matters relating to personnel, actually came to regard himself as a sort of supreme court over the other two branches, administration and command. He wielded a steadily increasing influence with the All Highest without acceptimg any corresponding responsibility, a thoroughly abominable situation.
As if this were not enough, Tirpitz was further handicapped by his lack of control over the Executive Command. This was unfortunate because of the necessity for co-ordinating warship design with strategy and tactics. He finally succeeded in trimming the powers of the staff slightly, but not enough for effective working. As late as 1914, the organization was still so loose that he had been kept in ignorance of the war plans. Under this vicious system, jealousy, backbiting, lost motion, and hasty decisions were inevitable. He wrote that the partition of the Navy Department was the cause of interdepartmental friction which wore him out more than either the Reichstag or the work in hand.
Upon taking office as Secretary of the Navy in 1897, Tirpitz had to accomplish two huge tasks before he could proceed with building a battle fleet. The first was a thorough overhauling of the existing shipbuilding plants and personnel. The Imperial Dockyards, mere “tinker’s shops” as Tirpitz called them, had to be prepared for building larger ships; model basins, wider canals, and lock gates had to be constructed; and deeper channels had to be dredged. Technical personnel was sent on tours and given postgraduate courses, the value of which was demonstrated when he built his first all-big-gun battleship. Whereas the original Dreadnought drew 2½ feet more than intended, the Nassau went only a foot below her designed draft.
Tirpitz’s second task was to win authorization from the Reichstag for his fleet, a job he tackled with amazing thoroughness. His extensive study and experience in the Executive Command enabled him to prepare a strong case showing the value of sea power and the supposed superiority of a battle fleet over a raiding fleet for its exercise. With these carefully prepared arguments, he personally called upon Bismarck, the princes, grand dukes, and influential deputies, most of whom responded in a way which spoke well for the Admiral’s tact and his skill in debate. Meanwhile a capable assistant toured the universities and won the active support of the professors of political economy. Editors and historians were, whenever possible, enlisted in the work; Mahan’s books were translated into German; a press bureau was established; a monthly magazine and an annual handbook were published; lectures were given; prizes were offered school children for essays on sea power; and excursions were organized to bring the inland population to the seaports where it was welcomed aboard the ships. A modern public-relations counsel could not have organized a more skillful and successful campaign to present the Navy’s case and to win friends.
Since the building yards were not yet prepared for the construction of a battle fleet, the Navy Bill of 1897 provided only for a raiding fleet. A battle fleet was authorized by a supplementary bill in 1900, and a foreign service fleet by another act in 1906. Tirpitz attributed his success with the Reichstag to the care with which he had prepared the case for each of these bills. He wrote: “We were ultimately able to convince the Reichstag because we were ourselves convinced.”
Since his thorough work as Chief of Staff had resulted in definitely formed ideas on strategy and tactics, his next duty was the translation of these ideas into the designs of all classes of warships. Tirpitz believed that utility in battle was the primary consideration and that this hinged upon ship-for-ship superiority. How to attain this was his next question. Since he still had no battle experience upon which to base his ideas on design, he was compelled to rely upon exhaustive study and common sense which led him straight to the core of the problem. This, he decided, was how to destroy the buoyancy or stability of the enemy’s ships while protecting those qualities in his own ships. He expressed the idea as follows:
So long as a ship is afloat it retains a certain fighting value and can afterwards be easily repaired. Thus the deadly injury of that part of a ship below the water line is the ultimate aim of the weapon of attack, and the increasing of the buoyancy of the vessel the main object of defensive measures. . . . The supreme quality of a ship is that it should remain afloat, and, by preserving its vertical position, continue to put up a fight.—My Memoirs, vol. I, p. 170.
Manifestly the first things to be studied were buoyancy and stability. Most men would have attacked this problem by assembling a board of experts; but Tirpitz saw that, since these questions lay at the heart of the whole problem of design, a misstep here would be fatal. Nothing but the facts would establish an impregnable foundation for his efforts; so he set about getting them with characteristic thoroughness. He conducted experiments with models and old ships to discover the precise effects of shellfire and underwater explosions and the best methods of minimizing those effects. Later on he built full-scale ship sections and tested them. From all this he discovered the best materials for the different forms of protection, improved methods of putting those materials together, the value of coal in absorbing part of the force of an underwater explosion, and the importance of unpierced bulkheads below the water line. The first really adequate torpedo bulkheads were built by him. He also perfected means of pumping out flooded compartments and of flooding others to keep the ship on an even keel; in short, he became the father of damage control.
This experimentation also resulted in unforeseen benefits in that it taught him the need of strengthening shells for oblique impact and of developing a fuse which would insure that the projectile would not burst until after it had pierced the armor. The British did not discover these things until Jutland. They also required considerable war experience before learning that their torpedoes were rebounding from the ship’s side before exploding and consequently doing little damage. Tirpitz had already ironed out this defect. He knew not only what his weapons could do and what his ships could stand, but also what the British weapons could do and what their ships could stand.
Besides giving him an unimpeachable basis for design, this accurate knowledge not only gave the command afloat a solid foundation for strategy and tactics, but also resulted in a definite moral advantage in that it minimized one of the major causes of timidity, the unknown. Any man is more likely to act boldly if he knows exactly what hazards he is facing. Jellicoe at Jutland knew that the German ships were superior in defensive strength, but he did not know by how much; nor did he know what he could reasonably expect his own ships to survive. It was his awe of “strange, new, unmeasured . . . conditions” which was largely responsible for his policy of caution.
The advantage of design based upon research and experimentation over design based upon expert opinion was shown by the fact that the Derfflinger could pierce the heaviest armor of the coeval Tiger at 11,700 meters, while the Tiger could not pierce the Derfilinger's main belt until the range had decreased to 7,800 meters. Tirpitz wrote: "A similar superiority in armament and armor plating, calculated to grip the imagination of any reflecting person, existed in the case of nearly all battleships of the same years." That single devastating comparison of the Derfflinger and Tiger would, if generally known, have deflated all Fisher's theorizing about speed being armor, like a needle stuck into a toy balloon.
In that comparison lies the explanation of upper's willingness to engage Beatty at Jutland on a northwesterly course or any other course, despite his numerical inferiority of five to six. The Dogger Bank fight had verified the soundness of Tirpitz's calculations and Scouting Group I was now eager to fight it out. Hipper's boldness was based on accurate knowledge Whereas Beatty's was based on overconfidence. The former proved to be both more enduring and more potent. By taking guesswork out of sea fighting Tirpitz had won that battle-cruiser action for Hipper before the first gun was fired.
When Fisher launched the Dreadnought, Tirpitz had learned enough from his experiments to be able to design a battleship which was vastly superior in defensive strength to any previous vessel. In July, 1906, just three months before the completion of the Dreadnought, Tirpitz began construction on the Nassau. He planned her originally for eight 11-inch guns, but halted work and redesigned her for six twin turrets, grouped like those in our Connecticut class of predreadnoughts. After a year's delay, he laid down three sister-ships.
The Nassaus, his first all-big-gun battleships, had many excellent features, of which the chief was their unprecedented resisting power. Their main armor belts were 11¾ inches thick as compared to the narrow 11-inch belt of the Dreadnought and the wider 10-inch belts of her successors. Furthermore, their armor extended vertically to the upper deck, one deck higher than in coeval British battleships. The Nassaus had splinter screens for the casemate guns and more armor for their ends and conning tower tubes. Besides the superlative underwater protection and damage-control arrangements for which they were famous, these ships had double the metacentric height then customary for battleships, despite which they proved to be unusually steady gun platforms. A unique safety measure was the use of metal cartridge cases for the main battery, a step which probably was mainly responsible for only one obsolete German warship’s blowing up in action. Extra large searchlights and improved arrangements for night firing were other features which showed to advantage in service. Tirpitz’s superior projectiles enabled him to get as much penetration with 11-inch shells as the British were getting with 12-inch shells, thereby saving much weight. Incidentally, this superiority in projectiles explains the shrewd German suggestion that the British agree to an upper limit for gun calibers and displacements. Although Tirpitz’s adoption of the small-tube boiler resulted in a further saving in weight, the displacement of the Nassau was 1,000 tons more than that of the Dreadnought and 300 tons more than that of the Bellerophon of the same year. That comparison gives an idea of how much more tonnage he devoted to protection.
The main disadvantage of the Nassaus was the unfortunate grouping of their turrets by which only eight of their twelve guns could fire on the broadside. Since Tirpitz had discovered that column was the normal battle formation and that design was merely applied tactics, the logical place for all big guns was on the center line. Had he mounted his twelve guns as our Navy subsequently mounted that number in the Pennsylvania, he would have increased the fighting power of his ships by 50 per cent.
This error probably sprang from his having the defects which usually accompany such virtues. Like most orderly-minded men, he had deeply ingrained habits; and like strong-minded men, powerful convictions. These deeply grooved habits and strong convictions gave him a slight tendency to cling to obsolescent ideas. For another thing, Tirpitz’s enthusiastic specialization in torpedoes during his early years seemed to make him slightly partial to those weapons and a little less keen in gunnery. Finally, Tirpitz resembled other intensely practical men in lacking imagination, and could visualize neither the supra-firing nor the triple turret. Without either of these improvements, twelve guns could be crowded in only by the clumsy arrangement he adopted.
Since the virtues to which these minor defects corresponded are essential to success, it is especially interesting to note the other errors to which such foibles led. Of these, the next was the provision of an intermediate battery of 6-inch guns and a torpedo defense battery of 3.5-inch guns. That the 6-inch battery was regarded as intermediate was shown by the use made of it by the Scharnhorst and Gneisenau at the Falklands and by the Derfflinger at Jutland. Tirpitz’s enthusiasm for torpedoes also resulted in the installation of six or seven submerged torpedo tubes in all his battleships. Although this proved to be not only wasted weight and space, but also a definite weakness, he cannot be greatly blamed when all other navies were making the same mistake in a milder form. His many years spent in developing torpedoes also meant that he was short on sea duty. This deficiency and his lack of imagination were probably mainly responsible for the poor habitability of his battleships. Since this feature must have depressed health and morale during four years of war, and since it was said to have been a contributing factor in the 1918 mutinies, it must be regarded as an undeniable error in design.
Tirpitz was further handicapped by the fact that only one firm in Germany was prepared to build turbines of the size needed for battleships. Since its output was required for battle cruisers, he was obliged to content himself with reciprocating engines for his first eight battleships, all of which had triple screws.
The first German battle cruiser, the Von der Tann, was laid down in 1908 and built in two years. Compared to the Invincible, Fisher’s first battle cruiser, she was 1,000 tons larger, 1 knot faster, had an armor belt 3 inches thicker, and 11-inch instead of 12-inch guns. Although better protected than her British prototype, her 9-inch armor belt was well below, and her 5- to 6-inch barbettes were far below Tirpitz’s standard. The armor belt sufficed to protect her buoyancy at Jutland; but all her turrets were disabled early in the fight, and she could do nothing beyond keeping her place in the line to draw fire which otherwise would have been directed at ships still capable of using their guns.
Fortunately, this astute Admiral’s usual sound judgment quickly reasserted itself; and he realized his mistake by 1909, when he began the Moltke and Goeben. In them, he fully corrected his error, even though it meant increasing their size by 3,600 tons. He gave them barbettes 10½ inches thick or almost double those of the Von der Tann, and 11-inch armor belts which were equal to those of coeval battleships in other navies. For good measure, he gave them two 3-inch armored decks and extra protection for the ends of the ships, up-takes, and stacks. Finally he added a fifth turret in the supra-firing position aft. As a consequence, they were equal, if not superior in both armament and protection to British battleships of the same year.
The value of the added armor was shown at Jutland when the Moltke and Von der Tann each received four heavy hits. At the close of the battle, the Moltke was still able to use her main battery and steam at 24 knots, whereas the Von der Tann had been silenced for hours and could only limp along at 18 knots. The Goeben demonstrated her solid qualities when she survived striking three mines and later being bombed for six days while beached at the Dardanelles. Such ships as these could really be used; they were not mere window dressing.
The Moltke and Goeben were unique in that each had two rudders, mounted in tandem. The steering engines were in separate compartments to minimize the likelihood of simultaneous disablement. Since disaster so frequently overtakes a warship when she can no longer steer in battle, this arrangement seemed excellent; but it was not repeated in later battle cruisers.
In 1908-09 Tirpitz began the four Helgolands which were about 4,000 tons larger than the Nassaus and mounted 12-inch guns instead of 11-inch. His slight tendency to cling to obsolescent ideas was again reflected in his grouping the turrets so that one-third of them were practically thrown away. He also persisted in mounting both 3.5-inch and 6-inch guns; in fact, this defect was incorporated in every capital ship he designed. In the Helgolands, the double rudders were mounted athwartships instead of in tandem and a light conning tower was erected aft.
The four Kaisers, laid down in 1909-10, were his first turbine-driven battleships. He gave them five turrets, placed as in the Moltke with three on the center line and two staggered amidships, one on either beam. Thus four, and under certain circumstances all five, could fire on the broadside. Besides eliminating one turret, he added 2,000 tons to their displacements and increased their main armor belts to 13¾ inches, a thickness not equaled in the Royal Navy for 15 years, when the Rodney was built. Furthermore the Kaisers were constructed with double longitudinal bulkheads, 2½ and 1½ inches thick, respectively. The Friedrich der Grosse of this class had an extra large 15-inch conning tower to fit her as a fleet flagship. The Ostfriesland, turned over to our Navy after the Armistice for bombing experiments, was of this group. The strongly unfavorable comments by our officers on her habitability indicated that Tirpitz had still failed to realize the importance of this factor.
On first thought, these battleships appear under-gunned and over-protected. Tirpitz said that his 12-inch shells had greater penetration than the British 13.5’s. If the armor seems a little heavy, the fact remains that Tirpitz had been continuing his experiments and was better qualified than any other man to say how much protection a ship needed. He was going on facts, not on snap judgments. Experimentation increasingly impressed him with the importance of defensive strength, thus affording a badly needed antidote to the one-sided impressions gained at maneuvers and the game board.
The Kaisers were 2,000 tons larger than the British Orions of the same year. One of the latter class, the Audacious, sank in October, 1914, after striking a single mine, a decided contrast to German battleships which were repeatedly mined without loss.
In 1911, Tirpitz began another battle cruiser, the Seydlitz. He made her 2,000 tons larger than the Moltke to provide for extra ammunition and the improved protection of more armor for her bow, a conning tower aft, and floors to magazines 1¼ to 2 inches thick. He arranged her turrets as in the Moltke except that her forward turret was on a raised forecastle which gave her a 33-foot freeboard forward. This feature plus the extra armor probably saved her after Jutland, for she barely made port with her forecastle awash. Had it been a deck lower or her bow scantily armored, she would doubtless have sunk. Her survival of one torpedo and 21 heavy shell hits indicated that she was built for real fighting, not for shadow boxing.
In 1911-12, the four Königs were laid down. Although Tirpitz still adhered to the 12-inch gun, he at last grouped them all on the center line as in the British Orion or our Texas. The Königs were 1,100 tons larger than the preceding Kaisers and 800 tons larger than the coeval Iron Dukes. Part of the increase was used to boost speed 1 knot, and the rest went for protection. There was a 15-inch conning tower forward and a 10-inch conning tower aft, the upper parts fitted as range-finder stations. There were four armored fire-control towers and one armored torpedo-control tower. The funnel bases were armored to 20 feet above the upper deck, while the remarkable underwater protection and heavy armor belts of the Kaisers were repeated.
The next year, 1913, was marked by a lull in which only one capital ship, the battle cruiser Derfflinger, was begun. In her, Tirpitz adopted the sensible turret grouping of our Michigan. She was also his first battle cruiser with 12-inch guns. Her 12-inch armor belt was 3 inches thicker than that of the coeval Tiger, while her 4-inch protective deck was heavier than those of battleships of that year in other navies. The damage she inflicted and the pounding she survived at Jutland were an eloquent tribute to the soundness of her design. Another admirable feature was the marked sheer to her bow which permitted the necessary freeboard forward with a relatively low position of the main battery. This saved weight, improved stability, and reduced the size of the target; all of which were such obvious advantages that our authorities designed the North Carolina’s bow with an even more pronounced sheer.
An interesting comparison of the Derfflinger and Princess Royal was made after the World War by Dr. Bürkner, the Director of Naval Construction in Germany. He stated that the flooding of one main engine-room and adjoining wing compartments in the Princess Royal would produce a list of 17 degrees, whereas corresponding damage to the Derfflinger would result in a list of only 9½ degrees.
The reason for the lull in battleship construction in 1913 was that the Emperor had approved the basic design for the 15-inch-gun battleships, Baden and Bayern. Once Tirpitz concluded to abandon the obvious advantages of the 12-inch gun, he did not trifle with any small increase in caliber; on the contrary, he boosted it 3 full inches, a breath taking step by any man’s standards. Although he decided upon the 15-inch gun simultaneously with Churchill, the more cautious German wished to make sure of his gun before starting work on his ships. As a result, they were completed just too late for Jutland; whereas the Queen Elizabeths were finished in 1915—thanks to Churchill’s having plunged ahead with them before constructing and testing one of the new guns. Ordinarily, Tirpitz’s more conservative procedure is to be commended, but in this case Churchill’s boldness and the speed of British shipyards paid a big dividend. Had the tables been turned at Jutland with the Queen Elizabeths absent and the Badens present, Beatty might have been wiped out and Jellicoe seriously threatened.
Thus it came about that the Badens were completed the same year as the Royal Sovereigns, instead of with the Queen Elizabeths. The Baden was 2,250 tons larger than the Royal Sovereign and had a main armor belt nearly an inch thicker. In the Badens Tirpitz mounted his 3.5-inch battery so that it could be used against aircraft. This made them the first ships to be given anything remotely approaching an adequate anti-aircraft battery, and was another demonstration of his alertness in anything relating to keeping his ships afloat. These were also his first battleships with the Michigan turret arrangement, and the last major units he designed to be completed.
In the characteristics of light cruisers, Tirpitz generally followed the lead of the British, with a typical accent on defensive strength. He usually gave them armor 1-inch thicker, both on the side and on the deck, than did the English. The incredible hammering that some of his little ships endured was an even more convincing tribute to the soundness of his ideas than was the ruggedness of his battle cruisers. In the first battle in the Helgoland Bight, the Ariadne was pounded for approximately 30 minutes by the Lion and Princess Royal at ranges from 3,500 to 6,000 yards; yet she was still firing when the battle cruisers disappeared in the haze, and she did not sink for nearly 3 hours. At Jutland the Wiesbaden was a stationary, short-range target for nearly every battleship in the Grand Fleet, but remained afloat until late that night. During the 1918 raid with the Goeben, the Breslau actually detonated her fifth mine before sinking. After the Armistice, the Frankfurt was turned over to our Navy and subjected to experimental bombing off the Virginia Capes. Fifty-seven 250-300-pound bombs were dropped on or near her, followed by eleven 520-600-pound bombs, before she disappeared. Even though about half the bombs were faulty, this was a staggering amount of punishment to be absorbed by a small ship with no damage control personnel aboard. So far as was known, her 2-inch protective deck kept out all bombs, and she succumbed to the explosions of those dropped alongside rather than to direct hits.
There is little to be said in criticism of these tough light cruisers. As in all navies, the failure to group the guns in turrets resulted in poor arcs of fire for their batteries and inadequate protection for their gun crews. Tirpitz’s faint blindness in gunnery was further reflected in his being three years behind the British in adopting the 6-inch gun for this class of vessels.
In the design of torpedo craft, Tirpitz scored again. He saw from the start that the logical counter to enemy flotillas was the light cruiser, not the destroyer; in fact he never adopted the term “destroyer,” but referred to the two types he built as “large torpedo boats” and “small torpedo boats.” To him it was clear that this was an offensive, not a defensive, type; and that it was primarily a torpedo platform rather than a gun platform. Consequently, he gave his boats more tubes than was the practice in the Royal Navy. He also took pains to design them to offer minimum targets to gunfire. The resulting low silhouettes were a marked advantage in night work, as was shown by the fact that the Germans were usually the first to open fire in such destroyer encounters. At the necessarily short ranges, this initial advantage was usually decisive. Tirpitz also perceived the special importance of maneuverability for such craft and installed an additional rudder under the forefoot, a step which was probably a factor in the relative scarcity of collisions among them.
Tirpitz’s lack of imagination had another untoward result in that he believed the British would attempt a close blockade. As a consequence of this misapprehension, he designed his flotillas for fighting exclusively in home waters and built boats of such limited cruising radius and lack of seaworthiness that they were unfitted for offensive operations. Jellicoe has pointed out the defenselessness of his bases in the early days of the war. Had the German flotillas been prepared to exploit this opportunity, they might have wiped out the British margin of superiority. A further disadvantage was that Hipper was impeded in his raids on the English coast by the inability of his torpedo craft to maintain speed after it began to blow.
This miscalculation was offset by Tirpitz’s brilliant performance in developing the submarine. With customary insight, he perceived that this was a type which he could use offensively if he could give it the necessary cruising radius; and that to do this, he must have larger and more reliable engines. Consequently, instead of wasting money on quantities of small boats of negligible value, he built only enough to gain experience and train personnel. Meanwhile he offered prizes to stimulate research and development by the various engine makers with the result that by 1912 he had submarine engines of suitable size that were the most reliable in the world. Then, sure of his propulsive machinery, he ordered 16 boats and thereafter pushed the building of submarines. As a result, war found him with 17 U-boats under construction and 28 completed, of which only 18 were of the short-range type. England, especially under Fisher, had built many small submarines before perfecting a suitable engine, so that 66 of her 74 boats were of too short range to be really serviceable when war broke out. A further advantage of Tirpitz’s development policy was that the lead in engine design then obtained was held for many years. Apparently, the wise procedure with a new weapon is to discover its weakness and then spend money in remedying that deficiency rather than to build quantities of ineffective units.
The High Seas Fleet spent the first few weeks of the war momentarily expecting attack. It then dawned upon Tirpitz that no attempt would be made to establish a close blockade, and that an opportunity offered itself on the Belgian coast. With admirable judgment, he quickly transferred his marines to this crucial spot and set about fortifying it. After making the famous Flanders triangle secure as a base, he could use effectively submarines of small size and short radius of action. He therefore proceeded to build the UB- and UC-boats which required less time and material for construction and fewer men for operation.
Germany would have done better if this realignment of policy had been more sweeping. It had become apparent in September, 1914, that the Army’s dry-land war plan had definitely failed; and that a war of exhaustion stared them in the face unless the Navy could intervene decisively. The High Seas Fleet was obviously strong enough to prevent a descent upon the German coast; yet it could not possibly be built up sufficiently to overcome its geographic handicap and to wrest control of the sea from England. Therefore, the logical naval objective was Allied seaborne trade. By attacking this, the Navy might relieve pressure on the German Army in two ways. The first was to compel England to divert her industrial output and man power to defensive naval types and away from material and personnel for her Army. The second was to hamper overseas communications, make it difficult to supply the British Expeditionary Forces and civil population, and thus attack the morale of both. This meant that work should have been stopped on all units for the High Seas Fleet which could not be finished within a year, and shipbuilding efforts should have been concentrated on such types as would be most potent against England’s communications. Since cruisers and submarines could operate with greatest effect on commercial traffic, the first step should have been to keep a few surface raiders on the trade routes to divert British resources to the construction of anti-cruiser types. The second step should have been the intensive building of submarines until enough were available to launch a surprise campaign in sufficient force.
Instead of that, the priceless advantage of surprise was thrown away by an inadequately prepared U-boat offensive. This was soon dropped when it was seen that the main result was the exasperation of neutrals. The ensuing interval of quiet gave the British time to build anti-submarine craft and to develop defensive measures, without which the subsequent unrestricted campaign would have quickly succeeded.
Tirpitz cannot be blamed for all this. The necessary co-ordination of administration and command was impossible when the only agency for accomplishing it was the amateurish and superficial Emperor. The long suffering Admiral did his best, protesting against the do-nothing naval strategy urged by the Chancellor and, when naval interests were involved, against the clumsy foreign policy. Tirpitz was too much of a man to stoop to mealy-mouthed acquiescence when patriotism demanded that he speak the truth. Partly because of his candor and partly because of the inevitable results of the execrable organization under which he worked, he was in marked disfavor with the All Highest from the fall of 1914. This condition grew steadily worse until late in 1915 when the Supreme War Lord approved the Chancellor’s demand that Tirpitz be relieved.
Meanwhile the Dogger Bank Battle had occurred and was carefully analyzed by the subordinates in whom the thoroughgoing Admiral had instilled a passion for facts and straight thinking. They discovered and remedied defects with the result that the ship-for-ship superiority at which Tirpitz aimed was still further enhanced. At the time, however, much was made of these defects and of the imagined superiorly of British vessels; in fact, the unfortunate Secretary of the Navy was under fire from all sides. Only when the Battle of Jutland demonstrated the truly astonishing fighting powers of his ships were there any kind words for this uniquely efficient man.
One of the salient features of that battle was the ability of his battle cruisers to endure occasional hits by 15-inch shells, a punishment not anticipated in their design. Although they could not hope to defeat the Fifth Battle Squadron in a stand-up fight, their survival of intermittent pounding by its huge projectiles enabled them to sink other ships not so stoutly armored as the Queen Elizabeths. This illustrates the point that a warship does have some choice of target, but no choice regarding the caliber of the projectiles which crash into its armor. It can usually find some enemy vessel against which its battery will be effective if it has been able to stand occasional hits from heavier guns; but, if it cannot remain afloat, the most powerful weapons in existence are of no value. By building his ships to withstand the fire of coeval British vessels at medium ranges, Tirpitz not only secured the advantage of prior damage in a normal gunnery duel, but also enabled his units to survive the fire of harder-hitting warships at longer ranges. Thus he insured that his output would not be so quickly rendered unfit to lie in the line. If, in striking the balance between offensive and defensive strength, Tirpitz leaned to the latter, the practical results were undeniably excellent.
Has not this idea a special application for heads of columns? Such ships on both sides in all wars have usually received extra heavy punishment. It seems likely that they always will, not only because of the moral effect and confusion resulting from their loss or disablement, but also because the leading vessel is less obscured by smoke and offers the best target. Since division flagships are likely to receive more hits than following vessels, why not design them accordingly? Striking power should not be sacrificed; and the displacement should not be increased to the point where homogeneity suffers. Provided these two evils are avoided, is it not reasonable to have stouter protection for those units which both history and logic indicate will attract more than their share of enemy fire?
Aside from the insufficient armor of the Von der Tann, the only definite weaknesses in Tirpitz’s large vessels were their torpedo rooms and the inadequate protection of their bows. These vulnerable spots caused the sinking of the Lützow and nearly resulted in the loss of the Derfflinger and Seydlitz, a point of special interest when their ends had more armor than the capital ships of other navies.
Unauthenticated reports have been published that, after studying their experience at Jutland, they planned a division of “dreadnought destroyers,” but abandoned the project after deciding to stake all on submarines. This 1917 battleship design was said to provide for unprecedentedly heavy armament and massive armor extending from end to end. If this report was true, it meant they felt that only striking and resisting power counted. Since these were the qualities previously stressed and Tirpitz, Scheer, Dr. Bürkner, and the Emperor have stated that Jutland demonstrated the soundness of their designs, it is safe to assume that renewed emphasis was placed on armament and protection in these “dreadnought destroyers.” This conclusion is re-enforced by Scheer’s writing of a conference in January, 1917, at which he persuaded the Emperor it would be unwise to attempt to merge the battleship and the battle cruiser into a new type of fast battleship. Evidently, Scheer was not impressed with the importance of greater mobility for the battle line. Although the reported speed of 32 knots for their new capital ships indicates an opposite belief, they now have obviously abandoned Tirpitz’s idea of a battle fleet and reverted to the earlier conception of a raiding fleet, for which speed is naturally more important.
They must have been convinced that the rugged protection of their light cruisers was a sound investment, for they are still providing armor an inch thicker than that of British light cruisers. It is no wonder they believed more than ever in defensive strength; for not only did more of their badly damaged ships survive, but those which sank usually went down slowly enough to permit the removal of their crews. When this could be done, the loss of life was usually only about 10 per cent of the complement; whereas practically the entire ship’s company perished in vessels which blew up. Aside from considerations of humanitarianism and morale, this highly trained personnel simply cannot be replaced; and time for their removal from doomed vessels is of prime importance.
A surprising feature of Tirpitz’s career was that he, who had never heard the boom of a hostile gun, was able to form such a sound conception of battle conditions and requirements. His amazing realism was due partly to familiarity with the effects of shellfire and underwater explosions as demonstrated in his experiments, and partly to his application of time, insight, and common sense to the study of history. It is no small matter to get so nearly the benefit of battle experience at comparatively trifling cost.
Tirpitz should also be credited with remarkable mental integrity. Instead of merely parroting the views of those around him, he did his own thinking and stuck to his well-grounded convictions, regardless of what happened to be popular at the time. In an age when it was the fashion to whoop it up for big guns and high speed, when any regard for armor was considered next thing to a confession of cowardice, he had the moral courage to come out flatly for the importance of keeping ships afloat. At a headquarters where the favorite occupation seems to have been “yes-sing” the Emperor, Tirpitz risked and incurred not merely displeasure but actual removal by telling the truth. Intellectually he “rolled his own.”
This grand old man’s great contributions to naval thought were: He recognized and demonstrated the importance of ship-for-ship superiority; he understood and proved that this depended primarily upon striking and resisting power; he showed the advantages of fact finding over expert opinion for attaining the best in armament and protection; and he illustrated unforgettably the importance of having the necessary guns and armor, instead of compromising in an effort to obtain superior numbers.
The one thing above all others which enabled Tirpitz to produce ships of such individual excellence was the pains he took to start with facts instead of mere assumptions. That this solid basis is not always established is probably partly because meticulous groundwork is wearisome to the average man of action; but mostly because it is especially hard to get money for experimentation and research which produce no immediate concrete result. The outcome is that the production of material often starts after inadequate consideration of the premises.
Tirpitz did everything in his power to take the guesswork out of sea fighting. This same unrelenting effort to leave as little as possible to chance has distinguished the great commanders of all time; yet, when battle was actually joined, these same careful preparers were the boldest in action. True to form, Tirpitz urged immediate aggressive steps in August, 1914. He had the eye to see, the urge to investigate, the mind to plan, the heart to dare, and the will to act. It was not only the high development of, but also the admirable balance between, these gifts which produced his career of such outstanding constructiveness. The fact that he wore the enemy’s uniform should not blind us to the soundness of his technique or the excellence of his results.
Author’s Note.—The writer is indebted to Lieutenant Commander G. C. Manning (C.C.), U. S. Navy, for criticisms and suggestions of great value in the preparation of this paper.
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THE METHOD adopted by us of creating an efficient battle-fleet, an engagement with which involved a risk for England, offered not only the greatest prospect of preventing war, but also, if war could not be avoided, the best possibility of striking the enemy effectively. Of the issue of a fleet action it could with certainty be stated that the resultant damage to the English supremacy at sea would be great and correspond proportionately with our losses. Whilst we at need could get over such a sacrifice, it must exercise an intolerable effect on England, which relied on its sea power alone. How far these considerations, on which the construction of our Fleet was based, were recognized as correct on the English side, can be judged from the tactics of England's Fleet in the World War, which throughout the struggle were based on the most anxious efforts to avoid suffering any real injury.—SCHEER, Germany's High Sea Fleet in the World War (Introduction).