HMS Iron Duke, Admiral Jellicoe's flagship at the Battle of Jutland
Naval Encounters - I
THE BATTLE OF JUTLAND: 1916
First Contact
By TWO of the clock on the first day
a wealth of battlewagons met,
one grey lady day—one harsh
North Sea morn in May—
dreadnaughts all; with battle cruisers, destroyers—
heavy, heavy gun ships of great England;
emboldened Germany;
each craving thump of battle and
close of combat;
like clash of fierce iron Titans—fell seadragons all—
laid out in murk and grey wastes of roiled North Sea,
some sixty-three long nautical miles NNW of great JUTLAND
—itself like giant mitt of rugged, rocky Danish land.
Light, light cruisers—like fleet reconnoitering speed wagons—
were at the first
set ahead on massive screening runs—
sweeping, scanning deep banks of fog,
and poised some distant
five miles ahead of mighty
dreadnought armada—itself a mere horizontal mass of grey shape
and shadow
troughing the rolling sea lanes in skirmish lines of
fifty battlewagons each.
Smells of sea, and grease, and cordite;
sounds of mechanical roll and clank of twin-shafted props
pulse – pulse – pulsing decks
below.
Above, guns train at constant READY ... the grind and iron whir
of twin Q-turret barrels swiveling
swiveling—each with certain mechanical
precision, scanning the deep horizon, and
trained at constant READY
Then, through smoky fist of fume and fog ... sharp glimpse
of vanguard ships of grand Hipper's High Seas Fleet
—fierce dreadnoughts all—
now cresting from afar, over a line of natural sight
off backlit silhouette horizon;
... then ...
CONTACT!! ... First contact coming sharply with
trade of blows—change of shot—at 13,000 yards and
closing rapidly on elements of main fleet;
THUNDEROUS
THUNDEROUS salvos
from 13-inch guns shaking hard the very firmament
of deck
each time fired ...
then, like taut snap of nerve or
loss of same—like sharp,
quick turn of tide and battle—
great Hipper must acquit and disengage the fray,
drawing bold England's
battle cruisers deep, deep down to south,
with Beatty fast in pursuit—
wrapped in steel embrace
of waiting German warships
just over the long horizon
... great dreadnoughts all ...
The Drive South
Gun crews now at quick speed moving;
shuttling round and cartridge up to
heavy guns—
ramming shell and 4/4 cordite charges
deep into Q-turret breaches—lock snap—
then FIRE, FIRE, FIRE!!
Concussive roar itself becomes a rocking fracture,
like full blow to body at point-blank-range—
staggering men backwards with untold impact
of OUTBOUND shell—
yet no time to ponder;
reloading just as fast ...
by FOUR of the clock on the first day,
a wealth of battlewagons met
one grey lady day—one harsh North Sea
morn in May—
—fierce dreadnoughts all—
with Jellicoe's fleet now under sharp attack
and no escape from Hipper's hammer
—with fell and devastating hits on HMS Lion and
Indefatigable ... itself dead in water,
then down—lost with 1017 men
sinking shy of mere three minutes.
Fresh from loss and licking wounds of battle—
outgunned, out-shipped... wary British now break off;
steaming heatedly away from Scheer's
sheer delight
of ambush on high sea—late May off Jutland—
back to line of lost main fleet,
sorely missing Fifth Battle Group;
with Beatty keeling feverishly away
to quick magnetic North
and safety.
The Drive North
Like deadly cat-and-mouse antic on high sea
—north of great Jutland thumb—
sly Scheer flies north on heel of English vanguard,
targeting the awesome might of dread
dread England
with seeming invincibility.
Inching, inching;
churning closer
closing range on lost FIFTH column;
opening now with salvo and full barrage to all,
like sharp broadside and battery fast brought to bear.
Now, EIGHT main guns, each with turrets swiveling for kill—
SIX battlewagons each assail the Valiant and brave
Malaya ...
with soon our One and Three guns out, and
severe hits to our Six
above...
our decks charred, gun towers wracked,
and cordite trolleys flaring up
—midship to rear—
with good men trapped below decks
in horrid hell of heat and high water ...
then, as quickly
a scuttle of harried men cheat certain death
through freed hatches and chutes of quick escape
to clear air—
to only more
loud bursts of shell
—like flash and blow of great concussion—
raining starboard and abaft of our position ...
But proud England stands and holds its own,
fiercely plodding on through battle
with Seydlitz, Lutzow and mighty Derrflinger
already peppered, licked, and cradled gently
by our big guns;
now setting forward high Hipper's greatest worry ...
Clash of Titans
By SIX of the clock on eve of first day,
fierce dreadnaughts of great England's
fleet come
come in now... jaunting forward in
rigorous lines of twenty-four each
—grand battlewagons all—moving hard abaft and
six abreast
for two taut hours
and twenty five
long nautical miles in fluid chase;
floating Heavy Cruiser screens at 2—3—4
and 5-mile spurts well out to
forward sluices of great northern sea,
running SHIELD for large main force behind.
rocked in troughing heavy seas off Jutland mitt;
moving fast apace
at quick time battle speed,
Beatty heads to lip of fray just now ahead.
Gallant Scheer—with grand Fleet fording ruggedly
through roll and buffet of wild Jutland waters
—deploys in high, high seas off Denmark, now
fresh from battle, and
fleshed on English blood ...
assails the valiant Defense
and Warrior
with one blown quite apart—the other a mere
tatter of ship—decks ravaged and metal shorn;
now c•r•i•p•p•l•i•n•g home from fevered battle, and
breaking quickly off
while continuing undauntedly
to fire away
at all targets of moving 'opp'.
Much like reckless, reckless endeavor
—oh spectacle of incautious gallantry—
as sharp and barbed War spite breaks roughly off;
veering from main column
of high British armada,
charging up to lip of battle line, with all guns
brought to bear and blazing
full meter—full broadsides—
to suck and draw both heavy fire and
bombardment from deadly dreadnought
embrace, as wounded Warrior
escapes to Blighty.
Proud Hipper, with food enough for victory;
engorged and glutted from false triumph,
must now—like tumbled celebrant—withdraw
to better vantage; sliding foolish and errant
through crossed view of Jellicoe's great Fifth,
with trap well sprung
for fusillade and bully broadsides—
with fully twenty-seven hits
on pride of Germany's grand Fleet
in mere
ten minutes overall.
Now, Scheer's sheer disgrace instructs
a hapful drive away
from orchestrated tangle of warships
—great dreadnoughts all—
to sharper tack east, like deadly,
dueling
dance, or
pas-de-deux on high sea;
or indeed,
just last great clash of titans on rolling plain of surf;
like fabled last meeting of fierce battlewagons ever
—never to be seen again.
Through mottled mix of mist and mayhem;
four points aft of swift
swift Seydlitz
—when best the fog settles well after storm—
sharp gunners open with salvo full
on struck Invincible
—great Flagship of our 3rd—
and by half of the clock after six,
she is blown;
now all a smoke-columned plume silhouetting off
low, low horizon—like giant steel "V" in water—
snapped horridly in two.
Now, Scheer's "battle turn to starboard" thrice
—itself astounding as battle tactic
seldom seen at sea—
soft slips the giant dreadnoughts in
with single thrust deep to breast of England's
fleet,
with Jellicoe on Iron Duke,
hungrily eyeing chance at second bite
of cherry, which was fleet of grand
grand Germany.
Quick ordering full cannonade on Kaiser's ships;
dispatching vaward force of armored cruisers
to probe and punish well ahead, Jellicoe
now pursues the multi-headed beasts of Navy
well to west
with tattered fleet,
forming line of solid scrimmage lock-down;
with columns stemming all retreat...
then sits and waits
for Scheer's run home.
Night Encounters
trapped like fox in den 'twixt great Horn's Reef
and outland Bight,
cunning Hipper and High Seas Fleet now quickly
shunt ahead to north and east; away from
high-sea exploit and hot western hug of
Jellicoe's fell ships.
Now, fog and film of night enshroud
the brave combatants all;
with only slink of shadow and masked motion
to be seen 'mongst passing ships.
"Star shells" light the very course of night—
and only snap-flashed glimpses of shape
and size are seen—
all daylight-lit and fiercely illumined by flares and
twin barrage of giant guns—forecastle and aft—
from titan-clashing North Sea battlewagons.
With scotched and limping cruisers; destroyers;
and hammered
dreadnoughts all,
smart and harried Hipper must straightaway make
for Ems and home ...
And only speed, and the blunt
blunt head of darkness
would be friend to him this night.
Dark shapes passing out of shadows well upon; the
big ships move in quiet now, with purpose and sweet stealth
—in this, the last
great endgame run for port and Frisian coast—
with only the flash and dancing trace of light,
and random clap of gun
to be seen or heard about...
Brave Scheer's
battlewagons saunter on
through veil and mantle,
only 'grazing' skirmish lines of wary English... and,
like surveyor or mere taster of battle,
he probes and probes, yet quickly plods on.
Full four thousand yards to stern of
fell Westfalen,
four German dreadnoughts deadly open now
with parting shot and toss of volley at shank
of British line in passing; and
Black Prince, Ardent, and stricken Turbulent
all taste the bite and gash of deadly aim
as War's last casualties... with even foolish
Pommern well tattooed in lag of German line
on long way out—
and shortest passage
home ...
Thus, then, did a wealth of battlewagons meet
one grey lady day—one harsh
North Sea morn in May—
great dreadnaughts all; with battle cruisers, destroyers—
heavy, heavy gun ships of great England;
emboldened Germany;
each craving thump of battle and
close of combat;
like the deep slavering rankle of great iron beasts
—fell seadragons all—
laid out in murk and grey wastes of roiled North Sea,
or indeed,
just last great clash of titans on rolling plain of surf;
and fabled last meeting of fierce battlewagons ever ...
never
to be seen
again.