Hunting a Pocket Battleship

It's the 2nd of December, 1939, on a British cargo liner off the west coast of South Africa. "Have you heard about the German?" "Yeah." "They sunk another ship south of us last week" "What? We're being shelled from Starboard!" "We're under attack!" "Tell the captain! " "What the hell was that?!" At the bridge Captain William Stubbs is already on full alert. His binoculars reveal a terrifying sight. Stalking them is a 16,000 ton German monster. A heavy cruiser sized ship armed with battleship si

zed, 11 inch guns. A pocket battleship. "Full power!" "Aye aye, sir" "Send the distress signal!" The small ship turns to flee, transmitting all the information they can in the last minutes they have left. A light shines from the enemy blinking in morse code. "They're ordering us to cease transmission." "To hell with that! Keep transmitting! Make sure every ship in the region knows they're here!" "Aye aye, sir!" Captain Stubbs keeps watching the enemy growing on the horizon. The ship's massive 28

0mm guns are aiming straight towards him. He recognises that profile. It's the Admiral Graf Spee. "It's the Spee! Put that in the transmission! Pocket battleship Graf Spee!" "Yes sir!" They keep sending all the information they can, dragging on the encounter until the fearsome warship is right on top of them. Continued resistance would be dangerous. Stubbs has no option but to surrender. "Cut power and stop transmitting. It's over." The Doriс Star falls quiet. Aboard the German warship, Captain

Hans Wilhelm Langsdorff watches as his men board the small cargo ship. They take the crew captive and bring them aboard the heavy cruiser before proceeding to ransack the ship and set up scuttling charges. It's a practiced procedure at this point. One that Langsdorff is all too happy to see completed with professionalism. "Good job!" Back on the upper deck, Captain Stubbs is singled out and taken to the brig. Behind him, massive explosions wash across the waves, followed by cheers from the Germa

n sailors. But while the cargo hauler sinks into the abyss, thousands of miles away, a Royal Navy squadron hears its dying transmissions. "Sir, the Graf Spee got another one." Commodore Henry Harwood thinks over the new information. "Bring the officers!" Under his command are heavy cruiser Exeter and light cruisers Ajax and Achilles. They're patrolling off the coast of South America, as far away from the scene of battle as they could be. The Graf Spee has been their target for months, but with t

his transmission, Harwood gets the feeling they can finally bring its rampage to an end. "There's a change of plan. The Graf Spee claimed another victim at approximately 13 hours yesterday. I suspect South American traffic will be their next target. We need to be ready." "I agree, sir, but where?" "I get the feeling they'll be moving to..." "The River Plate." "The River Plate." "It gets busy over there." "The choke point for all cargo ships headed for the Argentine and Uruguayan capitals." "Ther

e will be some targets." The 16,000 ton Graf Spee turns for its new destination, unaware that they're falling directly into Harwood's grasp. On the morning of 15 December, 13 days after the loss of the Doric Star, on board the heavy cruiser Exeter, Captain Frederick Secker Bell supervises the early morning activity. The squadron has been patrolling the estuary for days. Lookouts are on full alert, waiting for Harwood's prediction to come reality. It's been a tough wait. Initial sightings suggest

they're coming, but they haven't heard anything new for days until... "Confirmed smoke at 3-20. Lookouts at the stern report the enemy." "Sir, Harwood reports smoke at 3-20. Orders to investigate." "Reply affirmative. Men to action stations. Load SAPs." "Yes, sir." "Man to action stations." Exeter breaks west, approaching the mysterious ship. Slowly the masts come into view, then the superstructure, and finally, the mighty guns. It's clear. The Germans are here. "It's them! Tell Harwood we have

a pocket battleship." "Message confirmed. A pocket battleship at 3-20." "The Exeter reports the enemy in sight." After months of chase and so many lost merchant ships, the showdown is finally here. "Men to action stations. Heading 30 degrees and full power. Tell Exeter to charge the ship from the south. We surround them from the east as practiced." "Order from Ajax to Exeter: charge the ship from the south, the rest of the force will execute the other flank, permission to fire." But that fire s

hells over twice as heavy as their own. The Exeter is completely outclassed, but Bell trusts their strategic and numerical advantage. "Flank speed! Keep the current heading!" "Yes, sir." "Captain, smoke up ahead!" It's a surprise, but he accepts the challenge. "Alright! Let's meet them." "The two ships keep approaching. The Graf Spee's path unchanged." Bell watches through the binoculars as two giant turrets traverse towards them. And then... "Open fire." The first shots of the Battle of River P

late wash across the waves, the shells striking the sea. Exeter gunnery officer, Lieutenant-Commander Richard Jennings remembers... "The captain hailed me, not with the usual rigmarole of enemy in sight, bearing, etc. But with..."There's the fucking Scheer!"" "There's the fucking Scheer! Open fire at her!" The Exeter unleashes her guns with powerful blasts. The shells fly across the sky. And they too fall short. Upon Exeter, things are getting frantic as the German warship finds its aim. Shells

splash closer and closer, littering the deck with deadly shrapnel. But the Exeter too adjusts their range. They fire their 8-inch batteries, striking the Graf Spee on the hull, but failing to pierce its armor. Deep within the German warship, Captain Stubbs of the Doric Star sits locked in his cell alone and in silence. The shell strikes reverberating on the hull fill his ears. In return, the German salvo strikes just barely short. The massive shells detonate just a few yards away with awe-inspir

ing power. The shock and shrapnel so powerful, it takes out Exeter's radio. "Sir, we've lost contact with Harwood." "It's too late to turn back now! Press on!" Their shells impact the Graf Spee's deck, wrecking anti-aircraft guns, but they're doing nothing to slow the enemy Goliath. Bell watches the enemy with his binoculars. He sees the massive guns fire, launching their shells into the air. They linger for what seems like eternal seconds. Bell doesn't have time to react, not that it would have

done anything, but he can feel it. That is a hit. The brutal impact takes out the turret and the shrapnel flies towards the bridge. The fragments punch effortlessly through the bridge's thin walls, to tragic results. Bell finds himself on the floor, dazed and surrounded by the fallen. Somehow, through sheer luck, he's largely unhurt. There's no time to mourn. With determination burning in his eyes Bell returns to his post but finds his communications destroyed. At that moment medical personnel

rush in, but there's no time. He hurries past them, abandoning the bridge and making his way towards the aft conning station. "Do you have comms here?" "No sir, we've lost them." He looks around and calls for the first sailor he sees. "You, come over! I have no comms. Tell the port torpedoes to prepare to launch when the enemy comes into view and the men at the rudder to steer 25 degrees starboard." The unknown sailor salutes and runs off. He rushes for someone else. On his way back to the brid

ge, Bell continues to recruit more sailors, reestablishing communications with the entire ship. "You ask the damage control officer for updates. You! Tell the magazines I have no comms! Any emergency they need, send me a runner and find someone to tell the same thing to the aft turret!" In a matter of minutes a team of messengers forms, from this point on they become Captain Bell’s only way to control the ship. But somehow, it works. The ship begins turning starboard and the torpedoes are ready

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nd they launch off into the sea. The four remaining guns fire with deafening fury above the waves, while the torpedoes silently approach their target. Despite the messenger's best efforts though, they could never be quick enough for precise aim, and the torpedoes completely miss. But Bell refuses to stand down. "Keep firing!" The remaining two turrets continue to fire spreading death and destruction across the Graf Spee’s exposed elements, but doing little internally. Shell after shell strikes t

he German warships' heavy armor with little effect, ricocheting away or stopping dead in its tracks. Finally, they strike luck. At last, a round pierces the armor and punches straight through the lower decks and detonates deep within, destroying the fuel purification plant. There are no fires or floods, but in a single blow the ship has been doomed. Unable to purify its vast stores of diesel, it has cut its usable fuel from days to hours, not enough to return to Europe. But it does nothing to ha

mper their combat strength. Another salvo falls on the battered heavy cruiser. One shell slamming into the A turret and another punching through the hull. The second shell explodes within and sets fire to an ammunition storage rack. The brave sailors in the station rush for their extinguishers, quelling the flames before a catastrophic fire and explosion could be unleashed. The strike silences Gunnery Officer Richard Jennings' last turret. "Bloody hell!" He decides to abandon his position as dir

ector of the control tower and runs through the chaos, reaching the Exeter's last working main gun. To the turret crew's astonishment, Jennings climbs to the top of the turret and starts shouting directions. "Travel left! Aim for their turrets!" Jennings stares down the massive enemy warship in the distance as his turret takes aim underneath him. "Fire!" Jennings is blasted with gas and heat from the giant guns, but he takes it. "Correct high! 100! Fire!" Meanwhile, in the two light cruisers, Co

mmodore Harwood is becoming impatient with the lack of results. All this time they were executing the other flank seeking to overwhelm the Graf Spee with the crossfire. But without communication with Exeter they can't even find out if their aim is true. And now he clearly sees that the Exeter is smoking and listing, while the Graf Spee stands seemingly unharmed. With a sinking feeling, the truth dawns on him. They've been doing nothing. “Heading 285! Close the distance! Proceed at utmost speed!”

The ships break formation and charge to Exeter's rescue. Aboard the Graf Spee, Langsdorff spots the incoming British. "It’s a torpedo charge! Turn West and deploy the smokescreen!" Fire!" But Exeter isn’t done yet "Heading 270!" and their last turret is being commanded by what seems like a madman riding atop. "Fire!" But still, they chase after the Graf Spee, firing with what little they have and scoring hits across his superstructure. The Graf Spee turns all its guns towards them and they open

fire. The massive volley falls short by the smallest of margins, creating a huge splash just in front of Jennings' face. But he's unfazed. "You've got the range! Fire!" He calls for more but the gun doesn't move. "What's going on?" "We've lost power. It can't traverse." The water has filtered through the damaged hull and short-circuited the turret systems. "Bloody hell! We’ve lost the Y turret, tell the captain!" "Sir, Y turret has malfunctioned." Captain Bell is furious, with fire in his eyes.

"I'm going to ram the bastard! It will be the end of us! But it will sink him too!" "Order to ram it!" "Turn starboard!" "Starboard!" The Exeter, in flames and out of options, turns to ram the enemy. But then a salvo of shells brackets the Graf Spee. The light cruisers Ajax and Achilles have gotten past the smoke screen and have opened fire with vastly improved accuracy. "Harwood is on them! They finally got him!" "Damn it, they found the range!" Captain Langsdorff pushes the Exeter to the back

of his mind as the new challengers pummel the Graf Spee's upper deck with salvo after salvo. With damage and casualties mounting Captain Langsdorff orders a retreat. "Cease fire and full speed ahead! Set heading to Montevideo." The Ajax and Achilles pummel the ship for another hour as the Graf Spee desperately sails for neutral waters. But they are too far away and Harwood is determined to not let the ship slip away. "What is our ammunition status?" "20% remaining, sir." Harwood is shocked. It

is far less than he expected. If he carries on he could have too little to defend himself if they happen to face another battle. "Hold fire. Pull back and shadow them." They pursue the Graf Spee all the way to the neutral port of Montevideo, Uruguay. There, the prisoners of the Doric Star are released per international regulations. But back with the Graf Spee their problems were far from over. Upon their docking in Montevideo deceit and politics soon follow. The British begin broadcasting easy-t

o-intercept signals suggesting that reinforcements are arriving. They have no fuel reserves to return home, no ability to fix the fuel plant, and strict orders not to let the ship become interned in Uruguay. There is only one apparent option and that is is to flee to Argentina, but he believes a reinforced British fleet will stand in his way. "I don’t think we have any other choice. Set up the scuttling charges." On 17 December, the ship, with only Langsdorff and 40 other men aboard, moved out o

ff the Uruguayan waters. It was a devastating blow to Langsdorff. High command blamed him completely for Admiral Graf Spee's end. Langsdorff wrote: "I alone bear the responsibility for scuttling the panzerschiff Admiral Graf Spee. I am happy to pay with my life for any possible reflection on the honor of the flag." 3 days later in a hotel room in Buenos Aires he took his gun and kept his word. The mighty ship burned in the shallow water for the next two days. Despite the lack of decisive victory

, the battle was still considered a great success for the Royal Navy. Commodore Henry Harwood was promoted to Rear Admiral and knighted for his leadership. Captain Frederick Secker Bell wouldn't receive any navy awards for his actions, but he and a good portion of Exeter's crew did get a hero's welcome from the residents of the city of Exeter. Gunnery Officer Richard Jennings, on the other hand, would be awarded the Distinguished Service Cross for his actions and went on to command ships of his

own. All three men would survive the war. Thanks again to World of Warships. Check out the link in the description.