1901

by Robert Conroy

  Hipper’s eyes took in the magnificent view. To his right were the chalky cliffs of England. To his left were the beaches of France. The Channel was gray and choppy and there was a bite in the air that hinted of an early and cold winter. All the more reason to get the convoy to New York as quickly as possible. Along with the additional three divisions of sullen reserves, the ships were crammed with uniforms, blankets, tents, food, and, of course, ammunition. Included also were a number of colliers stuffed with coal for the North Atlantic Fleet. To his amazement, there were ships loaded with forage for the army’s many horses. Couldn’t the land of plenty provide anything?

  Far to his front he could barely see the screen of light cruisers. He ordered the Furst Bismarck to signal them to stay in sight, and signal lamps quickly flashed the message. He and his heavy-cruiser squadron, along with the three battleships of the High Seas Fleet, led the convoy. Smaller cruisers and gunboats of all sizes and ages flanked it and brought up the rear. The presence of the battleships was reassuring. Hipper was thankful that reason had prevailed and a compromise had been reached regarding the use of the fleet. Specifically, it had been publicly announced that the battleships and a number of cruisers would escort the convoy until it was met off New York by the main battle fleet under Admiral Diedrichs. It was also stated that such a force would be more than adequate to prevent the Yanks from trying something stupid.

  Unfortunately, it was not entirely true. Although the capital ships of the High Seas Fleet would sail quite a ways out into the Atlantic and ensure that the American cruisers under that devil Evans did not attack, they would turn back well before New York and make a surprise return to European waters. It was somehow hoped that this would both protect Germany and possibly trap Evans’s cruisers in confined waters. Hipper didn’t understand the first reason and seriously doubted the second, since Evans had proven himself quite capable of avoiding traps. But such is the nature of compromises. Still, he was happy that Evans’s six remaining cruisers were now well behind the convoy and not likely to cause trouble.

  A lookout announced the presence of British warships hugging the shadow of the English landscape. Hipper was puzzled. Did the British really think Germany would invade England? He laughed. Who would want the damp and dreary place? It would not be long before they were out of the Channel and into the North Atlantic. Already reports told of cold weather and high, stormy seas. He would have the devil’s own time keeping so many ships together in tidy ranks when each captain had his own mind and each ship had its own sea-keeping capabilities. Worse, regardless of the weather, the convoy was limited to the speed of its slowest members. Because the convoy had been thrown together in haste, there were some real tubs gurgling along at turtle speed. Hipper was young now, but he might be much older by the time they reached New York. But make it they would.

  Young Admiral von Hipper announced he was going to his cabin. All was well.

  The kaiser squeezed a glove in his right hand. It was a poor substitute for wringing both hands together, but it was all he could accomplish considering the withered condition of his left hand.

  “Von Tirpitz, how soon?”

  Tirpitz’s voice was deep and strong. “Only a few days, All Highest, then our ships will turn back and the Reich will be safe.”

  “But what if the American cruisers arrive here first and attack our ports?”

  Tirpitz shook his head. The kaiser loved his warships and had read all he could find on naval theory, but his fears still needed to be allayed. “If they come, All Highest, our coastal fortifications will destroy them. We have spent enormous amounts of time and money on those coastal batteries. I wish the Americans would attack so we could see how well we spent our resources.”

  The kaiser acknowledged the point. It was also one of the longest statements the normally taciturn admiral had made. It was said that Tirpitz could be genial and friendly under the right circumstances, but when the topic was his beloved navy, the man was all formality and business.

  “Then Diedrichs’s forces meet the convoy. How wonderful.” The kaiser chuckled. “And then we spring the trap on the Americans.”

  Tirpitz smiled, itself an unusual occurrence under the circumstances. “They will be trapped and defeated. With the reinforcements in the convoy, we will be able to put an end to this nonsense.”

  Uncertain for a moment precisely what Tirpitz meant by “nonsense,” the kaiser turned and gazed at a large map of the eastern United States. “But do we want it to end?” he said softly. “I have been thinking. If we defeat the American navy, we can have what we first wanted in the way of islands and coaling stations and rights to dig canals. But we can also have much more.”

  “And what might that be?” Holstein asked.

  “New England,” the kaiser responded eagerly. “If we cannot conquer old England, then let us take the new one. With the forces that will be at our disposal and with the American military in ruins, why can’t we lay claim to all American lands east of the Hudson River? The Hudson would present a nice, defensible boundary, and we would own several of the richest states in America.”

  “Interesting,” said Tirpitz. Only Bulow and Schlieffen looked even a little dismayed. Holstein hid his personal feelings behind a mask of imperturbability. Why did the kaiser continue to think the Yanks would trade states the way European powers traded provinces? Clearly the kaiser had forgotten that the United States had, in his own lifetime, fought a war so bloody that it had cost many hundreds of thousands dead just to preserve its union. Certainly it would not accede to such demands, and if Germany did attempt to force such a measure, the Reich would have to govern millions of angry and hostile people who were poorly disposed to obey orders.

  “I agree with our admiral,” Holstein said finally. “Your proposal is indeed quite interesting and contains many possibilities. But first things first. The convoy must make it to New York. Admiral, I sincerely hope the young men you have chosen for these coming tasks possess the wisdom and talent to prevail.”

  Tirpitz bowed slightly, acknowledging the fact that his and his navy’s futures were on the line. “I have every confidence in their abilities.”

  In the spacious stateroom aboard his flagship, Admiral Diedrichs stared at the orders in his hand. He was confused but dared not show it. The orders were quite specific: he was to send a strong part of his fleet to escort the convoy as it neared the American coast, while maintaining the greater portion of it in New York harbor. The order, which came from Tirpitz and had been concurred with by the kaiser, was detailed. It specifically named the ships to be used for each purpose. Not for the first time, he cursed the transatlantic cable that sped messages from Berlin to him. He handed the sheet of paper to his aide, Captain Paschwitz, who read the orders and was equally puzzled.

  “Admiral, it would be folly to split our forces. We could be defeated in detail by the American fleet.”

  “I agree,” said Diedrichs. He dropped his voice even though he and Paschwitz were alone. “However, there was a second and private message. Berlin has information that Yankee spies will falsely say that the Americans are going to attack the convoy with their entire fleet. They will not. It will be a feint. The Americans want us to rush out with our entire fleet, which will give them the opportunity to attack the harbor and close it off. It would not take too many ships in the harbor to seal the Narrows and turn it into a gauntlet we would have to run. Without the harbor, the convoy would have no place to land. We could retake it, but that would be both time-consuming and costly, since the Americans would reinforce their batteries on Staten Island and move in army units to help them.

  “However, we are ordered to do just the reverse. Much of our fleet will remain here while a strong force steams to the convoy to help it beat off the feint. After defeating the American feint, it is hoped that the reinforced convoy escort can join with us in smashing the American fleet as it does battle with us.”

  Paschwitz retrieved the order and read it a second time. “B
ut what if they are wrong, Admiral? This seems too incredible.”

  Admiral Diedrichs walked to the window of his stateroom. He could see the ruins of Manhattan in the distance. “We have our orders, Captain Paschwitz, and we will obey them.”

  Several days after the departure of the High Seas Fleet, Hipper and others had cheered lustily when the picket ships announced the arrival of the reinforcement squadron from New York. He’d exulted when he’d first spied the masts of the line of mighty ships as they came across the horizon. But his exultation had turned to dismay when the ships came close enough to be counted and identified. Where was the North Atlantic Fleet and its capital ships? Certainly a portion of it was coming to meet him, six battleships to be exact-and under the command of his friend and rival Maximilian von Spee. But where was the remainder? Instead, he had another six cruisers, and light ones at that, to flesh out his escort. Where the hell was the rest of the fleet?

  The trip across the Atlantic had been the epitome of misery. Squalls and high seas continually threatened to scatter Hipper’s ships as they plowed with exquisite slowness in the general direction of North America. The escort crews were exhausted and the machinery was fatigued by the need to chase down strays and return them to the dubious bosom of the convoy, and too damn much coal had been burned while they steamed at such inefficiently slow speeds.

  Of the 146 ships in the original convoy, 7 had turned back because of mechanical failures and 4 had simply disappeared. Although they might have sunk unnoticed in a night squall, there were more sinister possibilities. Perhaps the sailors sent as guards had been overpowered and killed, and the ships had escaped. If Hipper ever found them, he would hang their crews.

  Now, with the battleship squadron ahead and Spee, as senior admiral, clearly in charge, Hipper thought about the surprising change in the military situation of which Spee had managed to advise him via signal lamp. Both ships had wireless, but the Furst Bismarck ’s had quit working the day before.

  How fortunate that German intelligence had found out about the American plans. What a wonderful opportunity! The Yanks were going to send only a small force of four capital ships as a decoy against the convoy while the remainder attacked New York harbor and tried to retake it. How diabolical. If they succeeded, the convoy would be rendered useless because it would have no place to go, and the army would be trapped. But now Diedrichs, with the rest of the battle fleet and the cruisers, lay in ambush for the Americans at New York. Hipper wished that he and Admiral Spee would arrive so they could crush the arrogant Yanks between their two forces-after, of course, defeating the token Yank force sent to distract them.

  “How far to New York now?” Hipper asked.

  “Just over two hundred miles, sir,” the navigator answered quickly. Hipper knew that it was an estimate but it would do. A couple of days and they would be safe.

  Distant signals from a ship in the advance screen caught his eye: “enemy ships in sight.” He sucked in his breath and heard others on the bridge gasp as well. It was time. They had sailed long and far for this moment. He would not fail Tirpitz, his kaiser, or the Reich.

  High in his perch on the Alabama, Ens. Terry Schuyler contemplated several things. First, it was his birthday and there was a good possibility that it would be his last. Second, he was going to be a witness to history.

  The lookout post was jammed with Schuyler, another lieutenant, named James Sloan, and four seamen. All were constantly yelling information into the phones and speaking tubes, trying desperately to keep the men on the bridge informed of what they saw.

  And what they could see was stunning. The Alabama was fourth in the long line of battleships steaming in a basically southerly direction. First was the Iowa, which was serving as Dewey’s flagship. It was followed by the Oregon and Indiana and then the Alabama. Behind the Alabama in a stately line came the Illinois, Kentucky, Massachusetts, Wisconsin, Kearsarge, and Texas. They were followed by the armored cruisers New York and Brooklyn and the protected cruiser Olympia of Manila Bay fame. The American navy considered all of these capital ships.

  In a separate squadron slightly behind the main battle line came three monitors. Slow and unseaworthy, they had been designed for coastal defense and took the waves poorly. But they did have heavy guns and could be a force in the coming battle.

  To either side were scores of smaller ships-cruisers and gunboats primarily, although there was a handful of torpedo boat destroyers. These latter had been towed by the monitors to conserve fuel. There was even a score or so of armed yachts. If it could float and carry a gun, it was out there.

  “Schuyler, did you say something?” asked Lieutenant Sloan.

  Terry realized he must have been thinking out loud. “No, sir.”

  “Captain wants a confirmed count on the German big ships.”

  Terry nodded and took a telescope from one of the seamen. Many of the German ships were not yet in view, but, as happened so often, their presence was given away by the feather of smoke caused by their coal-burning engines. In this case, the number of such smoky feathers was almost beyond count. If they were all warships, then the American navy, signaling its presence with its own smoke, was in deep trouble.

  Terry tried to focus on the line of dark shapes that seemed to be coming directly at them. He could almost imagine them to be giant beetles. What were they, battleships or cruisers? The answer could bear directly on whether he saw another birthday.

  Lieutenant Sloan was new to the Alabama. He had been serving on the steam tug Triton at Norfolk and had been transferred to the battleship as the navy made frantic attempts to make up the officer shortage on the all-important capital ships. Terry had spent many long nights memorizing the shapes of German ships, and he knew that Lieutenant Sloan would defer to his expertise. He also knew that the captain must have already received some information regarding the advancing enemy from Dewey, who was much closer to the Germans in the Oregon, and doubtless wanted a second opinion.

  “Lieutenant,” Terry said, trying to be formal and also to keep the quiver from his voice. Off duty, Sloan was a very good guy and insisted Terry call him Jim, but this was for history. “I count nine in a line. They’re all over the horizon now and, if there are others, they’re not in this battle line.”

  He heard Sloan relay the information into the phone and then into the speaking tube. Already Terry felt better. If that was all there were, they might be in good shape. He squinted and tried to make specific identifications.

  “Who are they?” asked Sloan, his voice almost a yell. Terry waved him off and held the ships in focus. He was trying to remember. He smiled and put down the telescope.

  “Six battleships and three heavies.”

  “Jesus,” said Sloan and repeated the figures. Even through the tinny and scratchy phone, they could hear the shouts from the bridge. Terry slumped against the railing of the tower. Ten American battleships, three heavy cruisers, and three monitors against six battleships and three cruisers. They just might pull it off.

  As the Furst Bismarck took its place in line behind the last of Spee’s battleships, Admiral von Hipper knew a moment of deep dread. He looked at the faces of the others on the bridge and realized they felt it as well. This was no token force. This was the entire American navy! Diedrichs, Tirpitz, and the kaiser had all been fooled. Hipper could only trust that the remainder of the German fleet had realized the error, was now steaming to their rescue, and would come up behind the Americans and crush them in the vise he had hoped to see off New York. He also knew he was clutching at the proverbial straw. It was the German fleet and not the American fleet that was caught in the vise. The smaller warships guarding the convoy would have to be on their own until the American battleships were defeated-if they were defeated. There was no other choice.

  Admiral von Hipper’s lookouts continued to provide him with information about the swarms of light cruisers, gunboats, and small ships now streaking toward the convoy like wolves toward fat sheep. Wolves, he thought
. The smaller Yank ships were wolves and were attacking as wolf packs. They would overwhelm the flank escorts and the rear guard in detail and chew up the convoy, and there was nothing he could do about it.

  The precious convoy he had sworn to protect was as good as lost. Even if relief came immediately, the American wolf packs would have sunk or damaged so many of the transports that the effort would be useless. It was already useless! Now his only alternative was to fight for survival. His survival and that of his ship and the Imperial Navy were at stake. The future of the Reich’s navy was going to be decided this day in the North Atlantic.

  He and his ships had been betrayed and were outnumbered, he thought bitterly. It would take a heroic effort, hard and desperate fighting, to drive off the Americans. Could they do it?

  “The Americans have opened fire!”

  He nodded, having caught the winking of lights from the distant lead ships. Too far away. They were just barely in range. They were wasting ammunition. Automatically, he counted off the seconds and waited for the fall of shot. When it came, he was stunned to see how close the opening salvos were to the leading German ships.

  “They’ve fired again.”

  “Impossible!” he snapped, trying to refute the evidence of his eyes that beheld the line of lights again flashing from the still-distant but rapidly closing shapes. Experience told him ships cannot fire that fast. Yet they were. This time the first two German battleships were straddled by giant splashes that lifted dirty, wet towers into the sky. Bracketed, he moaned, bracketed already and we haven’t yet fired.