From Mon Sep 01 15:33:25 1997
>Date: Mon, 01 Sep 1997 18:32:32 EST
>From: EDWARD WITTENBERG
>To: MARHST-L@POST.QUEENSU.CA, MAHAN@MICROWRKS.COM,
> WWII-L@LISTSERV.ACSU.BUFFALO.EDU
>CC: wew@papa.uncp.edu
>Subject: KORMORAN v. SYDNEY – part 1
>Precendence: bulk
>Sender: mahan-owner@microworks.net
>
>TO ALL:
>
> I’ve been sitting around enjoying the Labor Day holiday without
>much to do. I was reading Detmers’ _The Raider Kormoran_ when I
>remembered that a few weeks ago a post concerning her had crossed my
>screen. I think that it was on either MARHST or MAHAN, but I’m not sure.
>Regardless, I decided that instead of sitting around watching mind-numbing
>programs on the TV, I would devote myself to something more constructive.
>Therefore, I have transcribed the chapter in Detmers’ work describing the
>engagement with the H.M.A.S. Sydney. Detmers’ work was originally
>published in 1959, so I would like to ask our Australian members if there
>have been any efforts to locate the final resting place of the Sydney? As
>I recall, there was mention of some type of ongoing research in the posts
>that I saw. Thanks.
>
>Edward Wittenberg
>wew@papa.uncp.edu
>
>
> The raider Kormoran (ex-Steiermark) was commanded by Lieutenant-Commander
> Theodor Detmers. The largest of the German raiders, the Kormoran weighed
> in at 8,736 tons. Her overall length was 515 feet, she had a beam of 66
> feet, and a draft of 30 feet. She had a maximum speed of 18 knots. She
> was armed with six 5.9-inch guns, two twin 37mm, five 20mm cannon, four
> twin 21-inch torpedo tubes (mounted above the waterline), two single
> 21-inch torpedo tubes (mounted below the waterline), 420 mines, and one
> mine-laying motor launch, in addition to two Arado 196 scouting aircraft.
> Her complement was 397, although this varied considerably due to prize
> crews and new drafts. Operating in the South Atlantic, Indian Ocean, and
> the South Pacific, Kormoran sank eleven ships (Antonis, British Union,
> Afric Star, Eurylochus, Agnita Canadolite, Craftsman, Nicolaos D.L.
> Velebit, Mareeba, and Stamatios G. Embiricos) for a total of 68,274 tons.
> She stayed at sea from 12-3-40 to 11-19-41 (352 days). Her cruise ended
> when she encountered the Australian light cruiser Sydney. Lured into
> range of Kormoran’s guns, the Sydney was lost with no survivors. However,
> she did enough damage to the Kormoran to ensure that the raider could not
> stay afloat. Eventually, Detmers and approximately 320 of his crew were
> rescued and spent the remainder of the war in Australian prison-of-war
> camps.
>
>(Source: German Raiders of World War II by August Karl Muggenthaler.
>Published by Prentice-Hall, Inc. Englewood Cliffs N.J., 1977).
>
>
>The following excerpt is taken from _The Raider Kormoran_ by Theodor
>Detmers (London: Tandem Publishing Ltd, 1975. Edward Fitzgerald, trans).
>
>
>H.M.A.S. Sydney
>
>
> It was November 19, 1941, a beautiful day with warm sunshine. As
> so often in the Indian Ocean the visibility was perfect. The wind was
> south-south-east, and had dropped to between Force 3 and 4. The sea
> had dropped too, and more or less the only movement was a medium
> swell from the south-west. The Kormoran was proceeding at medium
> speed on her usual sweep and gradually approaching Shark’s Bay from
> the south-west.
>
> At 15.00 hours I checked the ship’s course and decided to carry
> on without change until 20.00 hours, and then turn eastwards towards
> Shark’s Bay. After the usual look round in all directions I went into
> the mess for some coffee.
>
> At 15.55 hours the alarm bells began to ring, and a moment or two
> later an orderly arrived to tell me that a ship had been sighted ahead,
> probably a sailing vessel.
>
> When I got to the bridge I saw a small light spot almost dead ahead.
> The look-out in the foretop was revising his signals all the time,
> because in the shimmering light at the limit of visibility the contours
> changed continually. Before long we could see two sailing ships, then
> a number of vessels, and behind them two clouds of smoke which probably
> came from an escort. I didn’t much care for the outlook, so I turned
> away to port at 260 degrees and ordered full speed ahead. Then I went
> on the signal deck and looked through the sighting telescope of the
> gunnery control point. At first the air was quivering so in the heat t
> hat it was difficult to see anything clearly, but then a typical
> cruiser shape began to come clear. It was one of the three Australian
> cruisers of the ‘Perth’ class, the fellows I had seen in Sydney Harbour
> when the cruiser Koln visited there in 1933. It was exactly 16.00
> hours now.
>
> At that time the Australian Navy consisted of two heavy cruisers,
> the Australia and Canberra, three light cruisers, the Sydney, the Perth,
> and the Hobart, and an older and smaller cruiser, the Adelaide. In
> addition there were the usual destroyer flotillas and a variety of
> smaller craft. The two heavy cruisers were of the ‘Berwick’ class like
> the Cornwall, of 10,000 tons displacement and armed with eight 8-inch
> guns as their main armament. The light cruisers were of about 7,000
> tons displacement and were armed with eight 6-inch guns as their main
> armament. The Adelaide had a displacement of 5,100 tons and her speed
> was 25 1/2 knots compared with the 32 1/2 of the other three light
> cruisers. In addition to their 6-inch guns the cruisers of the ‘Perth’
> class had eight 4-inch anti-aircraft guns, four 2-inch anti-aircraft
> guns, twelve heavy machine guns, eight torpedo tube and two
> reconnaissance planes. One of these fellows was coming up now.
>
> Evasion was out of the question. There were three hours until
> dusk at 19.00 hours, but the cruiser coming up could move at 32 1/2
> knots compared with our best speed of 18 knots, which we were unable
> to do anymore on account of the barnacles and so on clinging to our
> bottom and sides. About the best we could manage was 16 1/2 knots,
> approximately half of the enemy’s speed. And even if, against all
> likelihood, I managed to hold he at arm’s length until dusk that
> wouldn’t help me much either because the nights in these parts were
> light, with good visibility, which meant that now he had sighted me he
> would not loose me again so easily. No, the only thing to do was to
> keep my course and wait and see what happened; remaining alert all
> the time to take advantage of any mistakes he might make and see to it
> at least that I had a favourable opening position.
>
> My one aim was thus to gain time; time in which the enemy
> cruiser would come closer, if possible to within six or eight thousand
> yards or so, so that when the shooting started he would not be able
> to outrange me or to withdraw to ten thousand yards and more. If I
> could get him near enough my battery of six 15 cm. guns would not be
> so very inferior to his eight 6-inch, because the advantage of modern
> fire- control, which he possessed, would not mean so much at short
> distances; and for all their simple, even rudimentary fire-direction
> and control, my guns would be capable of shooting it out even with
> his modern double turrets.
>
> Of course, this didn’t take into consideration the fact the we
> were, after all, only a refitted passenger ship with thin hull plates
> – and that we had 420 mines on board, which we certainly couldn’t get
> rid of now in sight of the enemy.
>
> We increased speed now and I dropped my foretop lookout and
> lowered the crow’s nest in order not to awaken suspicion. I also
> turned to 250 degrees and took up the most favourable shooting position
> available to me. I paid no further heed to the position of the sun,
> because the smoke sent up by the simultaneous performance of all our
> engines was so visible that the enemy must have seen us, even if his
> crow’s nest were not manned. We now waited for the first sign that he
> had, in fact, sighted us.
>
> Then at 16.05 came a report to me on the bridge that motor
> No. 4 was out of action. Our top speed was about fourteen knots and
> this I now sailed. The cruiser then turned towards us blinking
> ‘N.N.J.’. My Chief Signalman looked at me and shrugged his shoulders.
> Neither of us knew what this odd group of letters was supposed to mean,
> or how we were expected to answer it. As the cruiser was not far away
> now I did nothing; let him do something – something wrong, I hope.
> For a while he continued to morse ‘N.N.J.’, and then suddenly he
> demanded ‘What ship?’
>
> This cheered up my Chief Signalman and his colleagues no end. At
> last the big fellow had asked something sensible, and he now hurried
> to me to know whether he should reply with our searchlight or top lamp.
> My reply astonished him for a moment.
>
> ‘Neither,’ I said. ‘Answer slowly and awkwardly like a real
> merchant-navy greenhorn – and with flag wagging. In the meantime
> they’ll come even closer.’
>
> Morse signals would have speeded up the proceedings too much
> for me. I knew I had to fight him and I wanted him as close as
> possible to nullify all or most of his advantages; to gain time for
> ourselves and not to give him too much time to ask awkward questions.
> After what must have been an irritating pause I had the signal code
> pennant half hoisted, which meant: ‘I can see your signal, but I
> can’t make out what it is.’ The cruiser came gradually closer. Her
> silhouette was very narrow. She was about three points to starboard
> now, but still at a distance of about 15,000 yards and travelling at
> about twenty knots an hour. Strong smoke development suggested that
> she was stoking up all of her furnaces.
>
> After allowing a suitable time to elapse we informed her that we
> had now understood; and then, without any hurry, I hoisted the
> recognition signal of the Straat Malakka. My Chief Signalman Ahlbach
> had caught on now: he realized that I was playing for time for all
> I was worth; and in this he aided and abetted me manfully. Of the
> four flags only three appeared at first, and when the four flags finally
> appeared they were hopelessly twisted. With that the signal was lowered
> to allow the flags to be cleared before they were hoisted again. How
> well Ahlbach did his job was confirmed by the fact that the cruiser had
> to signal twice to get us to clear our signal so that he could read it.
> They were quite unsuspicious, it appeared, and they seemed to be showing
> understanding and consideration for an awkward fellow not much good
> at signalling.
>
> Now he knew who we were supposed to be: a Dutchman, the Straat
> Malakka. But would he believe it? I knew that the real Straat Malakka
> was about our size and shape, and it was certainly quite possible to
> take us for her. And we also knew that she was somewhere around in
> the Indian Ocean; but where exactly was another matter. It was to be
> hoped that this fellow didn’t know either. By bad luck he might had left
> the Straat Malakka behind in port. Or he might inquire by wireless; but
> at least he wasn’t doing that, for my W/T room reported that the enemy
> was maintaining wireless silence.
>
> The cruiser now morsed the he had understood us at last and
> asked us where we were bound for. Trusting to luck I replied ‘Batavia’.
> This was quite reasonable, the fact that we were steering 250 degrees
> could readily be interpreted as a normal evasive action on sighting the
> cruiser. But what I didn’t understand was why he didn’t signal me to
> heave to. That would have been very disagreeable, because a ship
> losing way would have been swung around in the swell and we should have
> shown our broadside to the enemy approaching us in line. I took it
> that the British usually did not stop ships at sea unless there was
> something suspicious about them – for they certainly had sufficient
> experience in stopping and searching ships. Which could only mean that
> they found nothing suspicious about us. Splendid!
>
> At 16.35 hours a message arrived on the bridge to the effect that
> No. 4 motor had been temporarily patched up and could run again minus
> one cylinder. The lads had worked like Trojans to achieve that. But I
> kept the same speed of fourteen knots now in order not to awaken
> suspicions in the mind of my trustful enemy by any chance. Further,
> the speed of fourteen knots was more appropriate to my disguise as the
> Dutchman. A little after that my Chief, Lieutenant Scheer, came on to
> the bridge to explain just what had happened to motor No. 4, and I
> showed him the cruiser. After a word or two he went back to his battle
> station, and that was the last I saw of him.
>
> The enemy cruiser was between eight and nine thousand yards off
> now, and still coming closer. Up to know we had ranged him with our
> 3 m. apparatus, but even with every precaution I thought it dangerous
> to let our range-finding apparatus to be seen above the camouflage, so
> we withdrew it and used our much less noticeable 0.75 m. anti-aircraft
> apparatus instead. This apparatus was portable and could be used from
> the bridge without attracting attention. The enemy cruiser was now
> coming within the range that I considered suitable for my guns, and she
> was already so close that through our glasses we could see every detail
> clearly. In particular we could see that her four double turrets with
> their six-inch guns and also the port torpedo-tube battery were all
> directed at us. As far as I could make out her eight 4-inch anti-
> aircraft guns were not manned. So much the better. We knew that
> generally speaking the British did not man their anti-aircraft guns
> when there was no air alert. If they had done so now it would have
> increased the enemy cruiser’s artillery superiority.
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