Dan van der Vat (1939–2019)

This is a reasonably good overview of World War II in the Pacific, written for a general audience so while it's well-researched there are no footnotes within the text. My studies of other materials are in line wth the facts as presented here, so given the book's purpose I believe the list of sources in the back is sufficient. A more scholarly publication would, of course, use footnotes or (preferably, to me) endnotes.

It's not clear, though, whether this is meant to be a history or an analysis of the campaign. It starts as the former, presenting mostly facts with explanations as needed, but as the book goes on the author injects his own opinions more and more frequently. I happen to agree with most of them, but it becomes distracting when they're just inserted into the narrative.

Keep in mind that this book was published in 1991, so there are some pieces of conventional wisdom that have since been reexamined as new information has come to light, documents have been declassified, and so on. I don't mean conspiracy theories, for which I have little to no respect; I'm talking about honest reappraisal due to the fresh availability of facts. I notice this more at the beginning of the book than in later chapters.

If you're looking for an overview of the war in the Pacific with some but not overwhelming detail, this book is just what you need. Of necessity, though, it can't go into great depth given the enormity of the conflict -- for that you'll want to find books on the individual operations.… (mere)

From the author of The Atlantic Campaign comes a historic account of the greatest naval conflict: the Pacific campaign of World War II.

Dan van der Vat's naval histories have been acclaimed on both sides of the Atlantic as “definitive,” “extraordinary,” and “vivid and harrowing.” Now he turns to the greatest naval conflict in history: the Pacific campaign of World War II. Drawing on neglected archives of firsthand accounts from both sides, van der Vat interweaves eyewitness testimony with sharp, analytical narration to provide a penetrating reappraisal of the strategic and political background of both the Japanese and American forces, as well as a major reassessment of the role of intelligence on both sides. A comprehensive evaluation of all aspects of the war in the Pacific, The Pacific Campaign promises to be the standard work on the U.S.-Japanese war for years to come.… (mere)

As you might expect from the title, this book explains the circumstances surrounding the scuttling of the German fleet in Scapa Flow, Orkney, after the First World War. It draws upon archive materials, eyewitness accounts, and survivors’ stories told to the author many years later. The idea of the book is an interesting one, but I found the writing style a bit old-fashioned—the author is prone to referring to ships as “she” and to “Man’s” achievements, which provokes eye-rolling on my part. It is a book of many details, which interested readers will enjoy but which for this reader were overwhelming. I would say this is a book better read when you have the attention span to read carefully. For me, in the middle of present global circumstances, this is not the right book for the times.… (mere)

On June 21, 1919, more marine tonnage sank than any day in history before or since.

Van der Vat looks at the history of the German High Seas Fleet from a notion in the head of Captain Alfred von Tirpitz to outer space.

Some parts of that story are relatively well known.

While Van der Vat places perhaps too much emphasis on the Anglo-German naval arms race as a cause of World War. Germany lost that arms race by late 1912, and both sides knew it. But he does show it was a definite cause in the souring German-British relations before the war.

Certainly, German naval actions in skirmishes in the North Sea and, of course, the Battle of Jutland have gotten wide coverage.

The actual scuttling of the fleet on the summer solstice has certainly been covered elsewhere. The nine German sailors who died that day – shot in lifeboats as they left their sinking ships – are the symbolic last German casualties of the war.

Where the book shines is in the coverage of the fleet between the Nov. 11, 1918 Armistice and the scuttling and the fate of the fleet after the scuttling.

Van der Vat looks at he political conflicts around the German High Seas Fleet after the Armistice. Who would get those ships? Would Germany be allowed to keep them? Would nations like France get them? How were they to be divided up by the victors. Did Britain really want other countries boosting their navies?

The German Navy was mutinous at the end of the war. Admiral Reuter, at the fleet’s bases in Wihelmshaven and Kiel, found Soviet Councils. They assumed the ability to be consulted in command decisions and approve officers.
So, Reuter found many of the approximately 20,000 men crewing the ships into internment an unruly bunch. But he had a deadline to meet. The fleet was to present itself for internment by November 21, 1918 or hostilities would resume.

So, on that date, 74 German ships, flying no ensigns and their guns disabled, assembled in Scotland’s Firth of Forth under the guns of more than 250 Allied ships. For some British officers and sailors, it was something of a bitter day. They had hoped to sink the German fleet in combat.

In Scapa Flow, it was to be a long eight months for the Germans.

The German High Fleet was not designed to operate far from its home bases. The living conditions on ships were not good. The superior German armor on them also made the spaces more cramped than on British vessels.

Their British minders had considered the possibility of a scuttling and took appropriate steps. Crews were not to travel between ships or fraternize with members of the British Navy. There would be no radios on board. Their mail would be censored. Germany had to pay for the coal to keep steam up – a condition of their internment, and food was shipped from Germany.

The dreary winter took its toll on mind and spirit. By the time the fleet sunk, there were only about 1,700 in the harbor, a skeleton crew. Many had left when the ships reached Scapa Flow. The rest between then and June 17, 1919. Some asked for leave to return home often to simply desert the navy in the chaos of post-Armistice Germany. Others were shipped off for sickness, particularly dental problems.

Reuter was happy to reduce his numbers because of discipline problems, particularly on the large battleships. Only on the small torpedo boats had discipline and morale been maintained.

Reuter himself returned briefly to Germany in December 1918.

As van der Vat points out, it is very unlikely he did not discuss scuttling the fleet with government and military officials. But, in his memoirs and official inquiries, he always maintained it was his sole decision. That was done, very likely, to avoid implicating the German government in breaking the Armistice.

Out of contact with their government, their news censored, the Germans had no idea what was going on with peace negotiations in Paris. However, an enterprising sailor had built a homemade radio and picked up news that the Armstice was set to expire on June 23, 1919.

Around 10 AM on June 21st, Reuter, in his dress uniform, sent the signal for scuttling to the cadre of officers and sailors in on the plot: “Paragraph Eleven. Confirm.”.

Under the eyes of a group of Stromness schoolchildren touring around the interned fleet and an angry British Navy, the scuttling begin. It was over by 5 PM.

Not all the ships were scuttled – German ships were not designed to be easily scuttled. Some were only beached. Some were saved by British sailors. The book’s appendix, besides providing a map of Scapa Flow with the ships, lists all the technical specifications and fate of each ship. Reuter’s order for scuttling is also provided in full.

The French were furious. So were the British – publicly, but Prime Minister David Lloyd George was secretly pleased that the Germans had solved a military and political problem for them. No other nation’s navy would get those ships.

The story didn’t end there. Starting in 1922 with local salvage efforts by Orcadians and through about 1981 salvage efforts continued. Some ships were raised and towed as far as the Firth of Forth over 275 miles away.
But there are still some German ships at the bottom of Scapa Flow and a popular attraction for divers all over the world.

So, what about outer space?

Well, there is a rumor that metal off some of the German ships was used by American spacecraft to house sensitive radiation detectors. Steel smelted after 1945 has trace amounts of radioactivity in it. It’s introduced into its smelting since the atmosphere has radioactive particles in it since the days of nuclear weapons being detonated in the atmosphere.

Van der Vat tried to confirm this rumor with NASA, but they could neither confirm or deny it after a search in their records.

I did a far from exhaustive search on the Web of a Million Lies and didn’t find anything more conclusive. “Low background steel” is, in fact, a desirable material for some scientific applications though its use may be coming to an end. And metal from warships has been used for such purposes including American warships sunk in 1945. But there’s no direct evidence the fruits of von Tirpitz’s brain made it into space.

Either way van der Vat’s book still stands as the classic work on the singular event of the Grand Scuttle.… (mere)