KORMORAN v. SYDNEY – part 2
January 2nd, 2009 From
>Date: Mon, 01 Sep 1997 18:33:13 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 2
>Precendence: bulk
>Sender: mahan-owner@microworks.net
>
>The following excerpt is taken from _The Raider Kormoran_ by Theodor
>Detmers (London: Tandem Publishing Ltd, 1975. Edward Fitzgerald, trans).
>
>Edward Wittenberg
>wew@papa.uncp.edu
>
>
> There was no sign of any diminution of speed on the enemy’s
> part, and she came up steadily with an unchanging bow wave, still
> showing us the narrowest possible silhouette. She was still obviously
> still curious about us, and now she wanted to know what cargo we were
> carrying. I replied vaguely ‘piece-goods’. They could make what they
> liked of that. My signalman were working away slowly and inefficiently,
> and it was terribly difficult for us to make ourselves understood. I
> now hoisted the Dutch flag and to make the confusion still worse I
> began to use my wireless, sending out the ‘Q’ signal: ‘QQQ Straat
> Malakka’, and informing the world that we were being challenged by an
> unknown cruiser. Perth wireless station picked up my signals,
> acknowledged receipt, and gave the ‘understood’ sign, telling me to
> keep in touch.
>
> My men had been at action stations for over an hour now and it
> seemed a long time to wait, particularly as they could see and hear
> nothing; and as I expected action to be opened at any moment I now
> spoke to all stations over the intercom informing them that we were
> about to go into action with a small cruiser which we should be well
> able to dispose of. An answering cheer told me that everything was in
> order.
>
> I could now see that the enemy cruiser now had a plane on the
> catapult. The engine was probably warming up. At any moment it would
> be catapulted into the air; and once the observer spotted us from above
> he would recognize us at once for what we were, an auxiliary cruiser.
> Or at the very least he would wireless back that we looked highly
> suspicious. It might be possible to conceal the range-finding crew with
> their apparatus before the plane arrived, but the camouflage of the
> guns in Hatches 2 and 4 was not so perfect that it could stand such
> close scrutiny. The plane was almost certain to start; the wind and
> weather conditions simply called for it.
>
> But at least the enemy was only something over three thousand
> yards away now, a beautiful shooting range. Would she slow down?
> Would she order us to heave to? Would she turn her broadside on us?
> And what should I do? Had the time come to de-camouflage and run up
> the war flag? Was the enemy in the best possible position for me to
> open fire? No, not yet, I decided because three thousand yards was
> about the extreme effective range of my anti-aircraft guns; and I
> wanted every gun I had to bear at its maximum effectiveness in order
> to give me the biggest possible chance. So let her come a bit closer
> still. The closer she came the better it would be for us. I therefore
> continued to leave the initiative to the enemy.
>
> For some time now we had been expecting a signal that would call
> our bluff, but so far nothing had come beyond almost casual queries
> which we had almost no difficulty in answering with some show of
> reason. The enemy now changed course to a point or two starboard so
> that the cruisers silhouette became a little broader, which was also
> to the good. But at the same time she morsed: ‘Give your secret call!’
> We had been expecting some such signal for about an hour. There it was
> at last. The denouement was very close now, because, of course, we
> did not know the secret call sign of the Straat Malakka.
>
> But for the moment I was still interested in stringing the enemy
> along, because every passing minute was improving my position. ‘Slowly!
> Slowly!’ I called to Ahlbach, who was still deliberately fumbling with
> the signal flags, and dragging out matters as long as possible. The
> cruiser now repeated her morse signal: ‘Give your secret call!’ So much
> time had now been gained that she was broadside on a sailing a course
> parallel to that of the Kormoran at a reduced speed. The range was only
> about a thousand yards now and we could see the cruiser’s pantrymen in
> their white coats lining the rails to have a look at the supposed
> Dutchman. It was the sort of happy picture you see on a sunny day in
> peacetime when two ships meet at sea. But it was a peaceful picture
> soon to be shattered.
>
> In reply to the cruiser’s signal demanding that I should give my
> secret call I could still have done what I would certainly have done had
> she asked me earlier on. I could pretend to be mistrustful, and instead
> of replying I could have asked the cruiser her name. Had I done so I
> am quite certain that I would have gained further time, because that
> was just the suspicious sort of attitude a cautious Dutch sea captain
> might have been expected to adopt in such circumstances. He would
> have wanted to be quite certain before revealing his secret call sign.
>
> But the situation was different now. I needed no more time. My
> eyes were glued to the bearings compass, and as soon as I saw that the
> enemy had come practically to a standstill I gave the order ‘De-
> camouflage!’ The time was exactly 17.30 hours. The Dutch flag was
> hauled down, and the German naval war flag ran up and fluttered
> proudly in the breeze from our foretop.
>
> As soon as my Chief Signalman reported ‘War flag flying’ I gave
> the order to open fire to my gunners and torpedo batteries. From the
> moment the order to de-camouflage was given the miracle speed and
> efficiency which my men had been preparing for and practising for
> months took place. The ship’s rails folded down, the heavy camouflage
> covers fore and aft were whisked away, Hatches 2 and 4 opened up to
> reveal their guns, the 2 cm. anti-aircraft guns were raised, the
> torpedo flaps opened, and all barrels and torpedo tubes swung on to
> the target. Within six seconds of the order to de-camouflage the first
> shot was fired from our leading gun. Four seconds later the other three
> went into action, scoring direct hits on the enemy’s bridge and in his
> artillery control post.
>
> Immediately after the enemy opened fire too, with a full salvo. But
> it roared away harmlessly over us, probably over our stern. Then we
> fired eight salvoes, with six seconds between each salvo, without any
> answering fire at all from the enemy. Obviously his artillery control
> centre had been put out of action by our very first salvo. At that
> short range every shell we fired was a direct hit. At the same time our
> anti-aircraft guns peppered the enemy’s upper deck and his torpedo
> batteries, and our army 3.7 anti-aircraft guns pumped shells into his
> bridge.
>
> Our own torpedoes were now discharged at the enemy, and to do
> this I had to turn to 260 degrees, which I did with very little helm
> movement in order not to disturb the our gunners. One of the first two
> torpedoes passed across the cruiser’s bows, but the other hit her abaft
> Turret A. An enormous column of water shot into the air and her stern
> dipped into the water up to the flag staff. Both fore turrets seemed to
> be out of action, for we didn’t get another shot from them. After we
> had fired eight salvoes, Turrets C and D began to fire independently.
> Turret D fired two or three salvoes, but they went wide. After that it
> ceased firing altogether. But Turret C continued to fire, and with some
> considerable accuracy. The first salvo was too high, and it ripped
> through our funnel at about bridge height, but its next hit us
> amidships and set our engine-room on fire.
>
> Our own guns were continuing to fire rapidly and steadily and
> doing the enemy a tremendous amount of damage. A motor-cutter was
> hanging helplessly halfway over the side, the heavy turret deck of
> Turret B had been lifted out of its implacement and hurled overboard.
> The plane which had been on the catapult had been blown into the sea,
> and flames were shooting up everywhere. Not a man could show his face
> on the upper deck, because the fire from our 2 cm. anti-aircraft guns
> and our heavy machine-guns was so intense, whilst our 3.7 anti-aircraft
> guns continued to pump shells into the bridge structure. Not a torpedo
> was fired at us. In all probability the hail of shells from our anti-
> aircraft weapons was so intense that no one could release the safety
> catch on the tubes.
>
> The enemy cruiser now turned towards us and passed behind our
> stern. It almost looked as if she was trying to ram us, but for that
> she was already too far down by the stern, and she no longer had any
> speed. I thought perhaps she was turning in order to bring her
> starboard torpedo tubes into action after having released the safety
> catches of the tubes under cover of her lee. But no torpedoes were
> discharged, and our anti-aircraft guns now swept her starboard side
> devastatingly.
>
> As the battered cruiser came behind our stern she enjoyed a
> short respite, because on account of our midships structure our forward
> guns were temporarily unsighted, so that for a while we had only two
> guns in action. I kept to my course in order to show the narrowest
> possible silhouette to any torpedo attack, but none came. A lot of smoke
> was now drifting away to stern out of starboard from the fire in our
> engine-room. In consequence my gunnery officer at our artillery control
> point could no longer see a thing, and handed over to the anti-aircraft
> gunnery officer who was aft on the poop. He continued to direct the
> fire of our stern guns, but he was getting no counter-fire at all now,
> and all the enemy’s turrets seemed out of action, and their gun barrels
> were pointing helplessly away. The enemy’s anti-aircraft guns had not
> been manned at all during the engagement, and they were still silent.
>
> The crews of our guns 1, 3 and 4 used this enforced pause in
> their operations to cool down their barrels with fire hoses, because the
> rapid firing had made them so hot that they could hardly be used any
> longer. But it was only a short pause and then all four guns were in
> action again; that is to say, guns No. 2, 3, 4 and 6. Guns No. 1 and 5
> were now in our firing lee and unable to take part in the further
> action. My gunnery officer took over again.
>
> At about 18.00 hours I wanted to turn to port to run parallel with
> the enemy and finally destroy her, and the helm was already in position
> when the sailor at the engine-room telegraph reported that the
> revolutions of both machines was falling away rapidly and the contact
> with the engine-room had been broken. At that moment I saw the wake
> of four torpedoes the enemy had discharged at us, but to my relief it
> was clear that at our present speed and on our present course they
> were going to pass harmlessly astern. I therefore made no change in my
> course and they disappeared behind us at a distance of between one
> hundred and two hundred yards.
>
> Immediately after they had passed the whole ship shuddered from
> stem to stern owing to the failure of our engines. Shortly before this
> I had given instructions to be passed to my Chief leaving it to his
> discretion to abandon his control stand – which was cut off from the
> engine-room by glass – if the heat he was complaining of increased
> intolerably. The orderly now returned and reported that he could get no
> answer from anyone. The engine-room itself was out of action. He was
> instructed to see if at least one of the engines could be got going
> again.
>
> In the meantime, our guns were keeping up their devastating fire,
> and the enemy was receiving one direct hit after the other. From the
> fore bridge to the stern mast the cruiser was now a mass of flame and
> she was moving forward only very slowly. We were unable to move at
> all, so we sent a torpedo after her at about 8,000 yards, but it passed
> harmlessly behind her stern.
>
> At 18.25 hours I gave the order to cease-fire. By this time the
> enemy cruiser was over ten thousand yards distant; drifting rather than
> sailing, and little more than a flaming hulk. It was growing dark
> rapidly now, and she gradually faded into the darkness, apparently
> making for Perth. Up until 21.00 hours we could see the glow, and then
> we saw the flames suddenly dart up even higher as though from an
> explosion, and after that the battered hulk of our enemy disappeared
> into the night.
>
> My aim now was to lower and launch as many of our boats as
> were still serviceable, and now that the engagement was over I wanted
> to see whether or not it was possible to keep my ship afloat or not.
> Amidships the Kormoran was well alight, and I hurried through the
> corridor on the port side and saw that the cabins there were burning. I
> opened the midships door into the engine-room, but billows of thick
> smoke rolled out, and darting flames shot up. With some difficulty, I
> got the door closed again, and then I hurried aft where I met the
> technical personnel, who informed me that the fire-fighting equipment
> in the engine-room had apparently been destroyed and that the whole
> starboard foam equipment was also out of action. An attempt to get
> into action from the screw machine chamber, which was quite undamaged,
> failed. There was no pressure in the damaged pipes.
>
> In this hopeless situation it was obviously impossible to get the
> engine-room running again even in part, so we concentrated our efforts
> on trying to rescue our comrades who were shut in there, but
> unfortunately everything we tried failed, and we were beaten back by
> smoke, flames and heat wherever we attempted to force a way through.
>
>Detmers and his crew abandoned the ship at 23.00 hours after stripping
>her of any supplies which could prove to be useful and setting explosive
>charges near her oil bunkers. Shortly afterwards, Kormoran disappeared
>beneath the waves forever. Detmers’ boat, containing some sixty-two men,
>was picked up by the steamer Centaur on the twenty-sixth. Centaur’s captain
>would not allow the able-bodied survivors on board, for fear of their
>overpowering the crew and seizing the ship. He did, however, undertake to
>tow Detmers and his party into port while supplying them with food and
>water. Detmers and 320 of his crew would eventually be rescued, but of the
>Sydney and her 644-man crew no trace was ever found. Kormoran’s officers
>were eventually housed at Dhurringile prisoner-of-war camp, while the
>remainder of the crew were housed at Graytown. Detmers and his crew
>remained in internment for two years after the end of the war, but were
>repatriated to Germany in February 1947.