Gentlemen, our first two years at the Ministère de la Marine have gone almost exactly as we had wished. We remain on good terms with the Anglophone nations and Japan, while we stand on the brink of war with Italy. Four capital ships, two light cruisers, and a brace of destroyers all are under construction in our yards. This means that only limited funds are available for new construction right now, and we need to make good use of them to ready ourselves for war.
In 1898, tensions between the US and Spain over the remains of Spain's Caribbean empire boiled over after the battleship Maine blew up in Havana Harbor. The US declared war and blockaded Cuba, while the Asiatic Fleet under George Dewey destroyed the Spanish fleet in the Philippines at Manila Bay. But the bigger prize was closer to home, as the Spanish dispatched a force under Admiral Cervera to break the Cuban blockade. The Americans attempted to intercept him, but he managed to reach the port of Santiago, on Cuba's south coast, unmolested. It took over a week for the Flying Squadron, under Commodore Winfield Schley, to establish that he was at Santiago and blockade the port.
On May 29th, a day after his forces finally settled in to blockade Santiago, Schley took most of his squadron inshore to reconnoiter the approaches to the port. His efforts were finally rewarded with a view of several of Cervera's cruisers, confirming that they had managed to trap the Spanish. One of the Spanish ships opened fire, but the range, 15,000 yards, was much too great for the fire-control technology of the day. Two days later, the Americans sent a group led by Massachusetts and Iowa in to bombard the cruiser Colon and the shore batteries from half the range of the previous engagement. Neither side made particularly good shooting, the only notable hit being an American shell that struck a Spanish shore battery's magazine and failed to explode. Read more...
Even though the Armistice on November 11th, 1918 had signaled the end of the fighting, the Great War had left many loose ends for the diplomats to tie up. One of the biggest was the fleet of battleships and battlecruisers the now-deposed Kaiser had built. 10 days after the Armistice, they had sailed into Rosyth, and they were swiftly transferred to the Grand Fleet's former base at Scapa Flow in the Orkneys to the north of Scotland, to be held there by the British until their fate was decided at the negotiating table in Versailles.
It was not a pleasant experience for either the officers or the men aboard those ships. Discipline in the High Seas Fleet had frayed during the long years in port after Jutland, and collapsed completely when the fleet was ordered to sail to its doom in late October. The British, when they came aboard the interned ships, were astonished at the lack of respect for the officers, whose orders had to be countersigned by the crew's councils, and at the amount of dirt which had been allowed to build up. The lack of food and recreation did not help. Food came twice a month from Germany, and while the rations were more generous than during the Turnip Winter, it was monotonous and of low quality. The only luxury available in abundance was brandy, which was necessary to make life less boring. Read more...
When Lord Nelson visited Tokyo this past December, she went to see Soya, an arctic research vessel turned museum ship.1
Soya offers only self-guided tours, perhaps due to the cramped quarters. The ship is interesting enough at first, but once you’ve seen half a dozen officer’s bedrooms, the novelty starts to wear off. The rooms are entirely glassed in, making photographs difficult, and on the rare occasion that the tour route reaches the deck, all the interesting bits are roped off. It certainly doesn’t help that all of the signage is in Japanese, with the exception of the title translations, which can be… rather unconventional.2 Read more...
It's time for our biweekly open thread. Talk about anything you want.
Also, note that play has begun on our RTW2 game, which is being continued in a separate thread. The report was posted in the OP last night.
The highlight of the OT is the splendid Okieboat website, dedicated to the guided missile cruiser Oklahoma City. There's a tremendous amount of information about everything from the very interesting Talos missile to life aboard. It's one of the very best descriptions of the complexity of a modern warship that I've ever seen.
Overhauled posts include the history of the New Jersey, my review of Alabama, Falklands Part 3 - Logistics at Ascension, the Battle of Pungdo, So You Want to Build a Modern Navy - Aviation Part 1 and Jackie Fisher.
Even as the seaplanes that battleships had traditionally carried were being retired in the late 40s, the need for battleship-based aircraft hadn't gone away. If anything, it had grown as the battleships focused more on shore bombardment. While fire-control radar had largely removed the need for aerial spotters when shooting at ships,3 it couldn't easily distinguish a shore target from the surrounding terrain. For that, aerial spotters were still needed. To fill this niche, the US Navy4 turned to the helicopter, which had emerged in the closing days of WWII and would revolutionize naval aviation.
Navies had long been interested in rotary-wing aircraft for the obvious reason that they could take off and land vertically, removing the need for flight decks, catapults, craning aircraft out of the water, and all of the other hassles that went with fixed-wing aviation. In 1931, the USN had evaluated the Pitcairn XOP-1 autogyro, a sort of airplane-helicopter hybrid that used an unpowered rotor to generate lift. The XOP-1 was operated from the carrier Langley, but ultimately rejected as having insufficient range and payload to be useful. Several more attempts were made over the next decade, but autogyros, which were unable to hover, were simply not satisfactory, and interest turned to craft with powered rotors. The British made the first serious attempt at building one of these in 1938, when they issued Specification S.38/22, for a naval ASW helicopter. The competition was won by the Cierva Autogiro Company with their C.41 Gyrodyne design. The gyrodyne used a powered rotor for takeoff, landing, and hover, but was propelled by a conventional engine in level flight. However, the project was cancelled in 1940 due to other pressures, and rotary-wing naval aviation properly began in 1942, when the Germans conducted trials of the Flettner Fl 282 on the light cruiser Koln. A year later, the Americans began trials with the Sikorsky R-4 under the aegis of the Coast Guard. The German efforts never bore fruit, and Allied helicopters saw only very limited operational service during WWII, focusing primarily on search and rescue, a role that they obviously excelled at. Read more...
Reader Alexander was kind enough to provide this report on the Newark Air Museum in Nottinghamshire, which is about 2.5 hours north of London.5
After the overthrow of the Tsarist regime, the energy of the new Soviet military was primarily concentrated on the army, and with good reason. The USSR faced threats on every land border, while naval threats were fairly minimal. The Soviet Navy soldiered on with a few ships from the days of the Tsars, most prominently the remaining battleships of the Gangut class. But this would all change in the 1930s.
Joseph Stalin began talking about a new navy as early as 1931, apparently seeing a great oceanic fleet as necessary to the power and prestige of the Soviet state, a deterrent against the enemies he was sure were plotting against him.7 However, nothing came of this discussion until 1935, when serious work on designs began, under the designation "large armored artillery ships". This was prompted by a worsening international situation, particularly the rise of Germany under Hitler. In fact, the first batch of design studies were for ships of 26,000 tons, the same size that had recently been announced for the Scharnhorst class. The plan actually approved in June 1936 showed 8 35,000 ton ships and no fewer than 16 26,000 ton vessels, a battleship construction program unmatched by even the major naval powers. Read more...
Gentlemen,
The recent vindication of Captain Dreyfuss has comprehensively upset the political situation here in France. As a result, the government has been replaced, and you have been asked to serve as the primary advisors in the Ministère de la Marine. Our strategic situation is reasonably strong, but perils loom. It is up to you to guide us.
In early April, 1982, Argentina invaded the Falkland Islands, a few desolate rocks in the South Atlantic. The British mobilized their fleet in response. The carriers arrived off the Falklands on May 1st, swiftly defeating the Argentine Air Force. The Argentine Navy tried to interfere the next day, but withdrew after the cruiser General Belgrano was sunk by a submarine. Two days later, the Argentines struck back, sinking the frigate Sheffield with an Exocet missile. Two weeks later, on May 21st, British troops landed at San Carlos Water on the west coast of East Falkland. The Argentine Air Force quickly got wind of this, and launched numerous sorties against the invasion fleet. May 21st was brutal for both sides, with the British losing one frigate and having several others damaged, while the Argentinians lost almost a third of the aircraft that actually attacked.8
On the 22nd, the British braced for a repeat of the attacks on the 21st, but bad weather grounded the Argentine aircraft. However, it didn't reach the Falklands, and unloading continued uninterrupted. The 22nd also saw the land-based Rapier batteries finally set up and aligned, adding another layer of defenses to the British positions at San Carlos. The most exciting parts of the day were a pair of incidents where Argentinian 707s, searching for the British, nearly came to grief. The first occurred at 0300 just off the Falklands, when one of the big jets blundered within range of Coventry, waiting to form a missile trap just off Falkland Sound. Unfortunately, the Sea Dart system had a technical fault and refused to fire until after the target had escaped. The second incident was five hours later and 1,800 miles away. A group of escorts, built around the destroyers Bristol and Cardiff and five frigates, had departed the UK on May 10th, and was now well on its way to the Task Force. The group commander picked up the searching 707 and positioned Cardiff to intercept, altering the position of the other ships to conceal his maneuver. The scheme worked, and the Type 42 fired a pair of Sea Darts, which the airliner only narrowly managed to dodge. From that point on, the 707s were much more circumspect when approaching British warships. Read more...
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