Pocket Battleship: The Story Of The Admiral Scheer

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Text originally published in 1960 under the same title.

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Publisher’s Note

Although in most cases we have retained the Author’s original spelling and grammar to authentically reproduce the work of the Author and the original intent of such material, some additional notes and clarifications have been added for the modern reader’s benefit.

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POCKET BATTLESHIP: THE STORY OF THE ADMIRAL SCHEER

BY

ADMIRAL THEODOR KRANCKE

AND

H. J. BRENNECKE

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Contents

TABLE OF CONTENTS 4

PART ONE—ALONE IN THE NORTH ATLANTIC 5

1. The Admiral Scheer Slips Out 5

2. It’s an Ill Wind... 15

3. The Lone Ship—a Trap? 23

4. The Attack on Convoy HX 84 30

5. Secret Supply Point 45

6. Operations off the West Indies 52

7. Night Action off the Cape Verde Isles 60

8. The Scheer Draws a Blank 72

PART TWO—IN THE SOUTH ATLANTIC 83

9. R.R.R. on the Equator 83

10. The Arado Lost and Found 87

11. The Eggs at Last! 92

12. Overhaul without a Dock 95

13. Christmas with Auxiliary Cruiser Thor 99

14. Fleet Concentration in Andalusia 105

15. In the Gulf of Guinea 113

16. The Stratagem Works 118

17. Prize Commandos For Captain Krüder 125

PART THREE—IN THE INDIAN OCEAN 133

18. Scheer Rounds the Cape 133

19. We Lay Off Madagascar... 136

20. Operations Off East Africa 140

21. R.R.R. Under Old Glory 144

22. And Another Trick That Failed 148

23. Concentric Encirclement, But… 152

24. In Andalusia Again 157

25. The Breakthrough 162

26. Kiel Again—and the End 171

REQUEST FROM THE PUBLISHER 174

PART ONE—ALONE IN THE NORTH ATLANTIC

1. The Admiral Scheer Slips Out

BLASTED Pocket-Battleship!

German naval anti-aircraft gunners heard the words as they dragged the wounded pilot of a British bomber out of the wreckage of his machine.

What did you say? asked one of them who could speak English. Half propped up on the ground and surrounded by Germans, who were doing their best to make him comfortable, the pilot pushed the hair out of his eyes with his undamaged hand and made no answer. He knew already that he had said too much and the thin line of the white lips in his contorted face was sufficient indication that he intended to say no more.

Nor did he. But he had said enough. Naval Command Group North in Wilhelmshaven now knew what it had previously only guessed: the efforts of the R.A.F. were directed against the heavy cruiser Admiral Scheer, a sister ship to the Graf Spee and the Lützow, powerful units of the small German Navy which were causing a certain amount of misgivings in the Admiralty in Whitehall, and even more amongst the captains of the British Merchant Marine whose job it was to keep the British Isles supplied during the war.

The Graf Spee scuttled herself in Montevideo Harbour after an engagement on December 13 with the British cruisers Ajax, Achilles and Exeter. The Lützow, renamed the Deutschland, managed to return home safely from her operations despite everything the British Navy could do.

The so-called pocket-battleship, Admiral Scheer, was known to be lying in Wilhelmshaven undergoing an entire refit, and the British Admiralty strongly suspected that when she was ready she would be sent out into the North Atlantic as a commerce raider. In consequence instructions were issued to bomb the naval shipyards at Wilhelmshaven as heavily as possible in the hope of damaging the Scheer before she could be got ready and sent out. The raids on Wilhelmshaven were persisted in and the British losses rose steadily, but they would gladly have accepted them all if only the Admiral Scheer, the blasted pocket-battleship of the wounded pilot, could have been destroyed, or even seriously damaged. In fact the bombers did not score a single hit on their target although the Scheer was in dock from February to July, 1940, for widespread alterations, and even after that she lay alongside the North Mole of Entrance III for quite a time to have her guns adjusted.

The Scheer had an operational range of something like 19,000 miles and the British Admiralty was quite right when it suspected that the strategic plans of the German Naval Operations Command included her use as a commerce raider in the Atlantic. But something they did not know at the Admiralty and what their air reconnaissance had not been able to tell them, was that the pocket-battleship had been given a completely new silhouette quite different from the characteristic cruiser type. The previous typical fighting mast, recognizable easily at a great distance, had been so thoroughly altered that is now looked more like the fighting masts of battle-cruisers like the Scharnhorst and the Gneisenau, or of heavy cruisers like the Hipper and the Prinz Eugen.

Captain Theodor Krancke, the commander of the Admiral Scheer, hoisted his flag on November 1, 1939, soon after the outbreak of war. The first few months of his command were uneventful and the ship saw no action. The crew had no chance of getting to know the new captain properly, but they did know that before coming to them he had been O.C. of the Naval Academy and that made them suspect wryly that he was probably more of a naval theoretician and a scientist than a real fighting seaman. Under the previous captain, Hans-Heinrich Wurmbach, the Scheer anti-aircraft gunners had shot down the first British bomber to be bagged either by the Fleet or the coastal batteries. The anti-aircraft guns of other ships had fired at the attacking British bombers too, but the Scheer had booked the first success. Under Wurmbach the Scheer had obviously been lucky. Would she be as lucky under the new captain? The fact that he smoked strong Brazils was taken to be a good sign by the ship psychologists.

When the Scheer went into dry dock her commander was ordered to Berlin where the Supreme Command entrusted him with the operational preparations for the campaign at sea against Norway. The crew had no inkling of what had taken their commander to Berlin in the first place or of what kept him there so long. But in any case, they had enough urgent matters of their own to attend to. Half the men on board were new ratings who had come on board to replace older and experienced men who had been posted to various training schools, a measure of reorganization made necessary by the swift enlargement of the fleet personnel and in particular of the submarine arm. But in view of what he knew about the secret instructions to be put into action with the Scheer later on, the presence of so many new and inexperienced men on board seemed a big risk to her commander and filled him with misgivings.

After the end of the Norwegian campaign and the occupation of the country, Captain Krancke remained Chief of Staff to Admiral Böhm in Norway until June, 1940, when he returned to Wilhelmshaven to take command of the Admiral Scheer once again. In the meantime she had completed her structural alterations and her refit and could leave dock. It was in this period that the nightly raids by British bombers took place.

The vessel then made the usual trial cruises in the Baltic and after that began intensive work to train the new men who were now on board and make them part and parcel of a homogenous crew. As many of them had never felt a ship’s planks under their feet before it was no easy task. However, now that the Scheer was out of dry dock she had to be made ready to go into action as quickly as possible and so the training went on day after day and often in the night as well. Artillery, anti-aircraft and torpedo firing practice took place in the Baltic between Swinemünde and the Danzig Bight under circumstances which were made as realistic as possible with supposed control and other breakdowns, supposed direct hits and so on. The crew were to be trained to meet every possible emergency, whether in the book or not. In addition there were all the innumerable technical gadgets to be mastered, new machinery to be run in, wireless and radar apparatus to be tried out. A second wireless room had been set up in the former midshipmen’s mess and the job of the W/T men there was solely to monitor-foreign broadcasts and keep a constant tab on a great number of wave-lengths. In addition there was highly secret radar apparatus to be tried out.

Something of the sort had been offered to the Imperial Navy as early as 1912, but in view of the inadequate development of wireless technique in those days the device had not been taken seriously and it was not until the ‘thirties that Germany began to experiment with the idea again, first using centimetre wave-lengths. The results on these short wave-lengths were disappointing, but then much better and more promising results were obtained with decimetre wave-lengths. Ultimately a radar instrument known as the D.T. apparatus, operating between 80-and 150-cm wave-lengths was developed and it was also adopted both by the Luftwaffe and the anti-aircraft batteries. The secrecy with which this early radar apparatus was surrounded was so close that only men actually engaged on its operation were allowed to enter the radar cabin, and they were specially sworn to secrecy.

But there were radar developments in the enemy’s camp too. Starting on metre wave-lengths, they finally concentrated on very short wave-lengths of around 9 cm These shorter wave-lengths gave quicker and more accurate reception and provided a clearer image on the radar screens. In addition, the short-wave apparatus was lighter and handier, so that little ships and ultimately even planes could be equipped with it, whereas the weight and size of the apparatus adopted by the German Navy made it impossible for anything smaller than a destroyer to be equipped with it.

In the second phase of the war the enemy’s radar apparatus outstripped German developments, gave a greater range, and provided clearer and more accurate indications. However, the first radar apparatus installed in British ships did not make its appearance until the spring of 1941, and even then only on board a few of the cruisers, so that in the first phase of the war at sea the German Navy enjoyed a big radar advantage.

More and more men were climbing up the gangways of the Scheer now and dumping their sea-sacks on her decks. Gradually it became something of a mystery where they were all to be put and what the authorities intended to do with them in any case. The peacetime complement of the Scheer was 1,100 men, but by this time there were already 1,300 on board, including a number of reservists from the mercantile marine who were wondering what they were doing on board a heavy cruiser.

The first question a seaman posted to a new ship always asks is: What’s the captain like? The older hands on board were able to answer that one now: All right. And those who had been on board longest were able to tell them why. None of the others ever took us through the Holnis Narrows into the inner Flensburg Fjord, but he did. And he stood on the bridge smoking his Brazil as cool as a cucumber and taking us in as though we were on rails. The reserve which surrounds all new commanders had been broken. Krancke had won the approval of his men.

As every new man came on board he was handed instructions calculated to provide him with a little exercise, for he had to report, one after the other, to about twenty different posts where he was told his action station, his fire station, his gas-alarm station and so on, and provided with a sleeping place, a hammock, a lifebelt, and supplementary clothing which included tropical kit. Any questions as to the last-named were discouraged: Don’t ask questions; tropical kit belongs to standard issue these days. A man could spend his time wondering in the navy, but for the sake of his own peace of mind he soon gives it up.

By October the Scheer was moored in Gotenhafen and her crew had far too much to do to waste time wondering. Munitions of all calibres were taken on board, and machine-parts, tool cases and supplies in such quantities that it almost began to look as though the Scheer were going to establish another dockyard somewhere. And lorry after lorry came driving up with foodstuffs. Between decks, cases and sacks began to pile up until there was soon hardly room to pass along the companion ways. And there was so much cabbage that the men even began to fear that their new Captain was a vegetarian.

Rumours were flying around of course, but none of them could be confirmed. The fact was that apart from the Captain himself no one knew anything. The secret of what Naval Operations Command intended to do with the Scheer had been well kept, so well in fact that none of the busily speculating rumour-mongers on board really believed that in view of what had happened to the Graf Spee, their own ship would be sent out as a commerce raider. Oh, of course, they might make a quick drive into the Greenland Sea, perhaps, a sort of hit-and-run affair, but hardly more than that. But Operational Orders, three typewritten pages of them, were already lying in the Captain’s cabin with the signature of Grand Admiral Raeder on them, and Captain Krancke already knew what they contained.

The rattling, puffing harbour locomotive brought along train after train of goods wagons to where the Scheer was lying, and the work of loading went on day and night. Cheese of all sorts in all shapes and sizes was amongst the many provisions sent along by the Naval Supply Department. Amongst these cheeses was one which arrived in cartwheel shape weighing several cwt. This particular cheese led to an illuminating incident.

The working party carrying them on board consisted of new men, and they were left to their own devices; not an officer or petty officer was in sight.

How can they expect us to carry these monsters down those ladders, grumbled one of the sailors, a man named Fietje Martins. Let’s roll ‘em down.

For a while all went well; then one of the heavy cheeses fell on a man’s locker below with a terrific crash, bending the metal and breaking the lock.

Three days for you, observed a couple of stoker-mechanics who happened to be passing, unless we can do something about it. Wait a while and we’ll try.

In a few minutes they were back with tools and to the great relief of Fietje Martins they managed to repair the locker and make it shipshape again. In reply to his thanks they shrugged their shoulders.

What’s a little thing like that? A pack of cigarettes’ll settle it.

Martins produced the required pack thankfully, but the two obliging sailors took only one each and pushed back the packet. But they hadn’t finished with him.

Just a word in your ear, said one of them. "You’re new, aren’t you. Just remember you’re on board the Scheer, not just any old tub, and do your job properly, the way you’re told to do it."

Martins stared at him in astonishment.

Well! he exclaimed. Here’s somebody after promotion.

"No, but when we go out on a job I want to come home safely. If everyone did his job the way you’ve just been doing yours with that cheese none of us’d get home at all. Every man on board the Scheer does his job right. Once you’ve got that, you’ll get on much better. So long. No offence."

In such and similar ways the comradeship of the ship’s company began to develop until before long whoever kicked over the traces whether on duty or off needed no sergeant at arms to deal with him—his own comrades brought him to see the error of his ways.

And meanwhile the Scheer would put to sea for a day or so to practice her gunnery and try out her other equipment. Then she would be back again at her old moorings and the loading would continue.

On October 17, a working party from the Scheer was told off to load potatoes on the Nordmark, a supply ship moored alongside the same quay a little distance away. The men grumbled at this—as though there wasn’t enough to do on board the Scheer.

That evening the Captain of the Nordmark, Commander Grau, came on board the Scheer to visit his colleague, Captain Krancke. That aroused no attention; the Captains of other vessels often came on board. "Auf Wiedersehen," said the two men when the Captain of the Nordmark left. And there was nothing unusual in that—just that both of them knew that the Wiedersehen to which they were referring was nothing casual, but was to take place if at all, in the middle of the Atlantic when the Admiral Scheer met her supply ship, the Nordmark.

The next day the Nordmark was gone from her moorings, but in her place was the Dithmarschen and the two ships were so alike in appearance that none of the men on board the Scheer noticed die difference. They still had quite enough to do to keep their minds from idle curiosity.

For three days the Captain was absent from his ship. Only the First Officer knew where he was, namely in Berlin visiting the S.K.L. or Naval Operations Command and then in Wilhelmshaven visiting the Naval Command Group North. In his absence the men tried to sound his orderly, but there was nothing much to be got out of him.

Not the faintest idea. But I’ll tell you what: I went into his cabin the other day when two other Captains were there and I was just in time to hear one of them say: ‘But that’s asking for it, Krancke. You must be mad.’ Now why should Krancke be mad, and what’s he asking for?

To which there was no answer. But as a matter of fact what the orderly had heard was the forthright comment of one of Krancke’s old friends on the forthcoming task of the Scheer. The two Captains had come to say good-bye to their old comrade Krancke.

You haven’t got a fifty-fifty chance, the conversation proceeded when the orderly was again out of the cabin. "More like ten to one against. The British have had time to improve their defensive measures and after the Graf Spee business they’ll be on their toes."

On October 22 the leave men returned on board as usual. The following morning at 08:30 hours the order was given to make ready for sea.

Everyone on board, Gruber? the Captain asked his First Officer.

Everyone on board, sir, came the reply. No men on shore leave.

A voice sounded over the ship’s intercom: "Achtung Alarm bells about to be tested."

And then the exigent, nerve-racking clamour sounded throughout the ship. Signal flags in many colours stood away from the ship in the morning breeze as though they were stiff. Rapidly they were hauled down now to make way for others. Two squat little tugs nosed their way alongside. In comparison with the great low-lying hull of the Scheer they were cockleshells in size. But they were powerful, and without much difficulty they maneuvered the Scheer away from the quayside. Cast away fore and aft! The heavy steel chains which had fastened the Scheer to the quayside now splashed into the grey, dirty water, and in the foretop fluttered a white flag with a diagonal red cross, the Anton, the signal that a ship was putting out.

The tugs had cast loose now and the Scheer passed the harbour mole under her own steam.

Well, gentlemen, said Krancke to his officers on the bridge, this is it.

We’re away! went the news throughout the ship, rattling at the doors, speeding along the companion ways, passing through bulkheads. The cook had just been complaining of the shortage of eggs, but now he forgot his troubles, put down the ladle he had been holding and ran on deck. In the Paymaster’s office columns of figures lost their interest and the men ran to the scuttles to see the last of shore and consciously experience their departure. Every man who could get away from his job hurried on deck.

There was a trembling throughout the whole ship now. Everyone could feel it and hearts beat higher. The diesels were at work driving the screws. From the funnel came a cloud of dancing hot gases from the engines, like the fire-breathing snort of a dragon. The engines were going and the screws were turning in swift revolutions. This time the Scheer was not just going out for a while to return a few days later to her moorings. This was the real thing. She was leaving port for weeks, perhaps for months, and everyone knew it. Perhaps forever?

From this moment on, different laws would prevail on board. As the last hawser fell hissing into the water, so all touch was suddenly broken off between the men and their wives, their sweethearts, their parents and their friends on shore. And for a seaman the break goes deeper. A soldier at the front still has letters to look forward to. For him there is still a connection with home, a last link which tells him he something more than a regimental number, something more than a cog in a merciless machine. But not for the seaman.

They quay behind them grew smaller and the people on it unrecognizable. They were still waving, but only because that’s the thing to do when a ship moves off, not because any of them had any idea that the Scheer was sailing out on a mission. No one had consciously come to say good-bye and the waving was as empty and uninterested as the gloomy October day with its rain-filled clouds.

Gotenhafen disappeared astern and the Scheer rounded Hela and there ahead of her was a sailing ship with a full spread of canvas like a greeting from other days. It was the four-master Padua, a trainingship of the German mercantile marine, and she was sailing the same course as the Scheer. Only slowly did the Scheer overtake the old windjammer whose sails seemed to carry her hull rather than her hull the masts and sails. For the men of the Scheer it was a last joyful greeting from home, a sight to raise their spirits and increase their confidence.

13:30 hours. The land had sunk out of sight now, though the offshore wind which swept over the ship held the rich autumnal smell of earth.

All hands on deck, came the order from the First Officer. Crew to assemble aft.

With the exception of those men who were unable to leave their posts, the crew assembled in the ship’s stem. The engines slowed down and stopped and the Scheer lay motionless on the water in an area in which no enemy, not even a submarine, was to be feared.

Captain Krancke now addressed his men, telling them briefly of the tasks their ship had been sent out to perform, reminding them of the superior strength of the enemy and warning them that they would have to deal with a capable, experienced and courageous foe who would fight all the way.

If we have to fight, he concluded, then let each man on board this ship do his duty in the spirit of the great sailor whose name it bears.

During the night the Scheer made her way through the Baltic. There were no fixed lights now to assist the Navigation Officer in his task. On the outbreak of war they had all been doused at once. Fehrmarn was passed on the way to the Great Belt and the North Sea through the Kattegat and the Skaggerak. But in the Belt, opposite Kjelsnor, the engines of the Scheer had to be stopped and the ship hove to. A marker buoy indicating the presence of a wreck not yet entered on the navigational charts had fouled the propeller. For a while an attempt was made to release the chain by maneuvering backwards and forwards, but without success, so a diver dressed in the conventional heavy and clumsy equipment went over the side.

Slowly he clambered down the light metal ladder which had been lowered for him and then disappeared below the surface. It was the end of October now and the water was very cold. By midday the chain had been disentangled and the propeller was free again. The Scheer could continue her journey now, but there were a good many superstitious men on board who regarded the accident as a bad omen.

By 21:00 hours the Scheer was in the Kattegat, when a wireless signal arrival from Naval Command Group North with the information that enemy submarines had been spotted on patrol before the Skaggerak mine barrier and proposing in agreement with the Commander-in-Chief Wilhelmshaven that the Scheer should change her plans and sail out into the North Sea through the Keil Canal instead. Captain Krancke therefore dropped anchor and remained where he was that night, turning back towards Kiel the next morning.

As soon as it became known that the cruiser was to pass through the Kaiser Wilhelm Canal, every service-branch chief from the Chief Gunnery Officer to the Chief Supplies Officer was suddenly struck with the brilliant idea that in Kiel he could obtain all the things he had had no time to obtain owing to the sudden departure of the Scheer, and one and all they came to the First Officer with their