It’s a calm afternoon in the Indian Ocean far
off the coast of West Australia. The pride of the Australian navy, a powerful
cruiser HMAS Sydney, has spotted a lone cargo ship which is acting suspiciously.
Sydney draws closer for a look and before long, the two are sailing side by side at point blank
range. Sydney asks the stranger to hoist the secret signal of a friendly Allied ship – but
it hesitates. Then – all hell breaks loose.
Just how did one of the Australian navy’s most
modern and deadly warships sink with the loss of all of its crew? This is the horrifying
true story of the sinking of HMAS Sydney.
September 1939 – war breaks out dramatically in
Europe after nearly a decade of rising tension. Adolf Hitler’s military pours into Poland
dragging France, Britain and their allies into a devastating conflict. Before long,
Hitler’s armies have stormed into Holland, Belgium, France, Denmark and Norway. But while the
heavy fighting is confined to European continent, the oceans have now become the stage
for an epic struggle for survival. The world’s glorious peacetime ocean liners are
mothballed or converted into drab troop transports for the war effort. Menacing battleships and
cruisers prowl the waves – but below them, Germany’s U-Boats hunt Allied shipping down with
frightening prowess. Hitler knows that Britain is an island nation – and all island nations
in wartime display the same achilles’ heel; if enough supply ships cannot get through then
wide scale production issues and food shortages are sure to follow. Britain and the commonwealth –
including Australia, Canada and New Zealand – rely on regular supplies from allied nations. Without
them the war effort could grind to a halt.
Allied merchant ships are slow and mostly
defenseless – but they are numerous so most of the German navy’s efforts are directed at culling that
number and they do so with remarkable efficiency. U-Boats – German submarines – are adept at this
and they exact a devastating toll. But there’s a problem – they can only carry so much fuel so they
need to operate nearby friendly submarine bases or where they can be resupplied at sea. Ships –
thanks to their size – have a much larger nature, but a warship like a cruiser or a battleship
– will be almost impossible to conceal and, operating by itself, will be hunted down and
sunk. This happens to the German battleship Bismarck in May 1941. But the German navy
has another weapon up its sleeve – one which proved remarkably effective during the
First World War; the commerce raider.
The concept of the commerce raider goes
back to the days of sail, when privateers – civilian-crewed ships acting under a commission of
war – would often disguise themselves as harmless civilian ships before dropping the ruse and
attacking an unprepared opponent. The strategy played within the rules of war – so long as the
disguise was dropped before attacking the enemy and so long as the disguised ship flew it’s
national ensign just before attacking. The concept was refined further during the First World War
by both Germany and Britain; the latter famously deploying Q-Ships which looked like innocent cargo
vessels but carried hidden guns. To the German navy, the commerce raider was an ideal tool to
rely on to hunt down and destroy allied merchant ships outside of the range of the U-Boats; and
one of their raiders was named the Kormoran.
Kormoran had started life in 1938 as the cargo
ship Steiermark, built as a passenger-cargo ship for the Hamburg-America Line. The ship was
meant to operate as far as East Asia from Europe but before she could enter service the
war had broken out, so the new ship sat idle. The Kriegsmarine – the German navy, had been
secretly preparing for war. Limitations put on the German navy after the First World War
meant their number of conventional warships; destroyers, cruisers, battleships and the
like – was much lower than the Allied powers. To account for this, the Kriegsmarine had
secretly identified merchant ships they knew could be easily converted into
deadly commerce raiders – and Steiermark was one of them. In early 1940 the ship was
overhauled and turned into a fearsome hunter.
By design, Steiemark was 164 meters
long and 8,700 Gross registered tons. She was powered by four 9-cylinder diesel engines
providing a top speed of 18 knots, or 33km/h. Originally she featured comfortable passenger
cabins and cavernous cargo holds; but the cabins were gutted and replaced with bunks for sailors
and gunners, while the cargo holds were converted to store naval mines and even prisoners, with
separate lock-ups for men and women if required. Crucially though the hunter was given it’s teeth;
on deck she carried two 15cm naval guns with four more below the forecastle and poop deck hidden
behind hinged panels; the two guns on deck were hidden behind fake, collapsible cargo hatch
walls that could be broken down in seconds. Behind sheet metal panels and on hydraulic
mounts were 2cm automatic anti aircraft cannons and a pair of 3.7cm light anti-tank
guns – devastating weaponry for any light targets like the unarmoured merchant
ships Steiermark was expected to engage. On deck sat a pair of torpedo launchers with a
single launcher underwater in the ship’s hull on either side. Deep in her hold the ship even
carried an LS-3 fast motor boat and a pair of Arado Ar-196 floatplanes for reconnaissance. High
up above the bridge were disguised rangefinders that could direct the ship’s gunfire with pinpoint
accuracy; what emerged from the shipyard in September 1940 was a dangerous predator of
a ship; disguised as a friendly cargo ship, the Steiermark could drop it’s ruse and have its
guns begin belching death in less than 10 seconds. She was a veritable floating swiss army knife of
a ship and she needed an able, adept commander to maximise her effectiveness. For this task the
Kriegsmarine chose 37 year old Theodore Detmers, a destroyer captain. It was often said that
destroyer captains were often a little bit mad; indeed, Detmers determination and skill
as a hunter would see him play the role of Steiemark’s captain with devastating expertise.
But first he elected to give his ship a new name; the cormorant is a type of bird used by fisherman
to catch and retrieve fish from rivers; the Allied merchant ships would be the fish, and Detmer’s new
raider would be the bird; he named her Kormoran.
Provisioned for a year-long voyage, Kormoran’s
first job was to run the Allied blockade and escape into the open ocean; through
December she slipped by prowling British warships unnoticed in storms and heavy seas way
up over Iceland and through the Denmark strait. It was a cautious move to take the long way around
but Detmers was calculating and cool and he knew his ship would see action before long. In a fight
with an Allied merchant ship or freighter – even one protected by a deck gun – Kormoran’s
heavy firepower would see her win every time. But an engagement with any warship bigger
than a destroyer could see Kormoran destroyed. She had to rely on disguise and
measured risk-taking to survive. Detmers began to hunt for merchant ships traveling
alone – without escort or in convoy. In January 1941 Kormoran claimed her first prize, sinking
the Greek freighter Antonis. Later that month Detmers engaged a British tanker, the British
Union, which actually fired back when threatened; Kormoran’s guns disabled the ship and
her torpedoes sent it to the bottom of the ocean. For the next few months Kormoran
hunted ships like this in the Atlantic ocean, sinking 8 for a total of 56,000 tons of Allied
shipping. Kormoran was directed to hunt in the Indian Ocean, so Detmers had his ship disguised
as the Japanese freighter Kinka Maru. By November 1941 Kormoran had been at sea for 11 months – but
pickings in the Indian Ocean were slim, and she’d sunk only 3 merchant ships since June. Detmers
now had Kormoran disguised as a Dutch freighter, the Straat Malakka – and his ship had been
frequently repaired and resupplied at sea, but he must have been frustrated by his
lack of success in the Indian ocean. To change tack he turned his ship for Western
Australia to lay mines and catch any unassuming Australian merchant ships by surprise closer to
home. Late in the afternoon of November 19, 1941, Kormoran was steaming about 280km
off the coast of West Australia when a call came from his lookouts that a tall
sailing ship had been spotted ahead – but a few minutes later the tangle of masts and rigging on
the horizon revealed themselves to actually belong to an Allied warship – a warship which had spotted
Kormoran and was approaching to investigate. Detmer’s worst fears had been realised and
Kormoran would have to pull off a masterful disguise or be drawn into a gun battle
that she was never designed for. Detmers grit his teeth and decided what to do.
Aboard the bridge of HMAS Sydney, captain Joseph Burnett peered through his binoculars at
the mysterious ship in the distance. He was 41 years old – and Sydney was his first command. For
his first, Burnett could have done a lot worse.
Sydney was one of the finest, most modern warships
in the Australian fleet. Australia still held close ties with Britain and there was something of
a co-dependency; Britain would supply and arm the commonwealth but expect Commonwealth assistance
during wartime. Because of this, Australia’s wartime fleet largely comprised second-hand
Royal Navy warships. But Sydney was different; she had been purchased before completion by
the Australian government; originally she was to have been named HMS Phaeton, but she and 2 of
her sisters were sold to Australia and renamed. Phaeton became the Sydney.
The ship was launched in 1934 as a Leander class light cruiser; she had long,
lean lines and powerful turbines which gave her a top speed of 32.5 knots. Bow to stern she
was 171 meters long and displaced 7, 200 tons. Sydney and her two sisters were different to the
five other British Leander Class ships; they had two separated and self-contained boiler and engine
room groups, a practice which was adopted from the US Navy. This meant that if one boiler and engine
room was knocked out, Sydney could still operate with reduced speed. This changed her profile
and gave her a second functioning funnel.
Sydney was armed with eight, 6 inch guns
housed twinned in armoured turrets with a maximum range out to over 22.5
km. The guns were quick firing, and although a small caliber, could lob
shells down range at a rate of once ever 7 or 8 seconds. The forward turrets were called
‘A’ and ‘B’ and the rear turrets ‘X’ and ‘Y’. Amidships Sydney carried four 4” deck guns which
could be used against aircraft or surface targets, while dotted around the ship were quad-mounted
13mm Vickers anti aircraft guns. On either side of the ship was mounted a quadruple torpedo launcher
– Sydney certainly did not want for armament. For reconnaissance duties she carried a
Supermarine Walrus seaplane on a catapult and was fitted with a massive crane so she could pluck
the Walrus back out of the water after it was done with its mission. Sydney was nimble, quick
and deadly; designed to engage from a distance, kiting away incoming enemy fire but
nipping back with her quick-firing guns. Sailing from Britain, Sydney first
arrived in Australia in July 1935 where she became an object of
curiosity to the general public.
In a peacetime navy through the rest of the 1930s,
Sydney became a familiar sight in Melbourne, Sydney, Brisbane and other Australian ports
as she made regular voyages for exercises and training. To the Australian public, Sydney and her
sisters Perth and Hobart were a source of pride – the nation was young and struggling to define its
national identity separate from Britain. Sydney and her sisters were up to standard as some of the
world’s finest fighting ships and their crews were keen to show they were up to standard as well.
The outbreak of war saw Sydney patrolling Australian territorial waters and the Indian
ocean, but everything changed in May 1940 when she was ordered to join British warships in the
Mediterranean. The ship was personally chosen by British Admiral Andrew Cunningham to join
the 7th Cruiser Squadron, who was impressed by the ship and decided to keep it for himself. With
the declaration of war by Italy on June 10, 1940, Sydney was on-station in an active warzone and
her crew were anxious to do their nation proud. On June 21 Sydney fired her guns
in anger for the first time, bombarding the Italian-controlled port of Bardia.
7 days later she engaged her first enemy ship, firing on the disabled Italian destroyer Espero
and sinking her. Over the coming weeks, Sydney served with distinction; first at the Battle of
Calabria and then the Battle of Cape Spada. This was her most glorious moment, the opportunity
to earn the nations pride that her eager crew had been looking for. On July 19 a small
force of British destroyers chanced upon a pair of Italian cruisers and retreated
at speed with the Italians in pursuit; the Italian captains were then horrified to see
the Sydney appear, guns blazing, on the horizon; the Italian ships turned to run but Sydney’s
quick-firing 6 inch guns got to work, damaging the first and then disabling the second Italian
cruiser, the Bartoleomo Colleoni. Sydney’s crew were elated, never mind that the ship had copped
an Italian shell through the forward funnel. John Collins, her commander, was appointed a
Companion of the Order of the Bath while the ship’s other officers and crew received a mix of
2 distinguished service orders, two distinguished service crosses, 5 distinguished service medals
and 12 mentions in despatches. Back home, Sydney was lauded as a hero; and the entire nation
of Australia collectively beamed with pride.
Sydney served in the Mediterranean until the end
of 1940 when she received urgent news from home; German commerce raiders were prowling
unhindered in the waters around Australia and the island nation needed a guardian. Sydney
was the perfect choice for such a task; by nature, thanks to her speed and rapid firepower, she was
a hunter and normally a commerce raider wouldn’t stand a chance against her in a gun battle.
Sydney arrived at her namesake port finally in February 1941 to a heroes’ welcome;
school children were given a holiday to join the thousands and thousands of people who
turned out to cheer the ship and her crew on.
Over the next few months, Sydney
patrolled the waters off Australia, escorting convoys comprised of merchant ships and
even massive ocean liners like the Queen Mary, Queen Elizabeth and Aquitania. In November 1941
Sydney had been escorting the troopship Zeelandia off West Australia but she was relieved and turned
for home. Then, late in the afternoon of November 19th, smoke was spotted on the horizon. It was a
lone merchant ship; Burnett, Sydney’s new captain, couldn’t help but investigate.
He turned his ship to pursue.
On the Kormoran, Detmers took only seconds to
decide on what to do. He immediately ordered his ship be turned into the sun; that would make
it harder for the enemy warship to see him and figure out his true identity. The Dutch ensign was
run up the foremast and Detmers called his crew to action stations. He knew that a gun battle at
range would see his ship shot out from under him; he had to get the enemy close enough to exact a
terrible, devastating blow but to do this he would need all his cunning and creativity. On his side
was the element of surprise; the enemy warship was clearly interested in them but turning to run
away into the sun had only piqued that suspicion further. Kormoran was disguised as Straat Malakka,
the Dutch freighter, so Detmers would use this false identity to lure the warship in as close as
possible. He observed the distant warship through a sighting telescope of a gunnery control station;
it was an Australian light cruiser making full speed for his ship; the chase had begun.
Kormoran struggled along at 14 knots, hampered by a malfunctioning engine and
months of marine growth on the hull; but the Australian ship was getting closer
and closer, nearly doubling Kormoran’s speed. Then came a challenge; the Australian ship flashed
a morse signal; ‘NNJ’, but nobody on Kormoran knew what this meant so they didn’t answer. Then came
another morse signal; ‘What ship?’ For this, Detmers had an answer – and a plan. To buy himself
time, and lure the Australian ship closer within the range of his guns and torpedoes, Detmers
ordered his signalman to reply to the question, not with morse lamp, but slowly with signal
flags one at a time. This would give the appearance of an inexperienced, possibly scared
civilian crew and help sell Kormoran’s disguise. After a few minutes Kormoran had signalled she was
Straat Malakka and Sydney was only 15,000 meters away. Whenever Sydney asked a question, Kormoran’s
signalman would bumble, send up the wrong flag seemingly on accident and take his time; Sydney
was getting impatient and began repeating its questions. At 4.30 pm Sydney was only 8,000
meters away and had quizzed Kormoran on where she was bound and what cargo she was carrying.
The mood on board must have been incredibly tense; but so far, the ruse was working.
On Sydney, Captain Burnett was playing a risky game. He had been briefed in-depth on the presence
of enemy commerce raiders operating in the Indian Ocean and his standing orders advised against
approaching mystery vessels at close range. Sydney’s huge firepower advantage was most
useful at long distance; even though she was a warship she was only a light cruiser –
lightly armoured and intended for harassing and providing supporting fire at range. Burnett was
clearly suspicious about this mystery freighter called the Straat Malakka – so he inched Sydney
closer to get a better look. Why he did this has been debated for decades; it’s been thought that
he suspected this ship of actually being a German supply vessel in the area waiting to resupply one
of the commerce raiders. Capturing it intact would be a major coup for the commander; so closing
the range and boarding her before her crew had a chance to plant explosive charges and deliberately
sink their ship seemed like a sound plan.
As Sydney drew closer, Detmers noticed
that all four of her main gun turrets were trained menacingly on his ship. He began
to think like a civilian merchant ship captain; what would an inexperienced commander
do in a situation like this? Well – probably panic. He ordered his radio
operator to send a distress signal; ‘QQQQ’, the royal navy distress call for a ship suspecting
it was under attack from a commerce raider. He gave his ship’s name as Straat Malakka and
his position and he hoped that the signal, which he repeated, would cause serious confusion aboard
the Australian ship. By now Sydney was just 3,000 meters away. The Supermarine Walrus on Sydney was
run out with its engine on, but it didn’t launch and just sat on the catapult. Detmers called into
a speaking phone to his gunnery control crew; “Our camouflage is excellent. He has no suspicion;
maybe they will say good voyage and let us go!” By quarter past 5 Sydney had drawn perfectly
alongside Kormoran at point blank range – just 900 meters away. Her guns were trained on the
ship – but her crew clearly weren’t too concerned, because through their looking glasses the Germans
could see Australian sailor and crewmen smoking and chatting idly on deck. Detmers
and hi crew held their breath; the might of the Royal Australian Navy had beared
down on them and now there could be no escape. Then came a message that Detmers had no answer
to; “Show your secret signal” Sydney demanded. Detmers turned to his senior wireless officer; “Do
we know the secret call for the Straat Malakka?” he asked. In response his senior
wirelessman just shook his head; Detmers realised that the time had come.
He gave his orders; the disguise would be dropped. Up the masthead shot the battle ensign
of Nazi Germany; and then all hell broke loose.
Two shots from Kormoran’s 15cm guns missed; and
Sydney answered with a full salvo; but the ships were so close together that Sydney’s guns
were not depressed low enough and the shells passed close overhead. But if Kormoran’s
15cm guns had proved ineffective so far, the 20mm anti aircraft guns and the 3.7cm
anti tank guns were doing devastating work. The Australian crew who had been idle
on deck now found themselves cut down by heavy anti aircraft gun fire – the two
ships were so close that the 3.7cm guns easily penetrated Sydney’s thin superstructure.
Their first target was the bridge; Captain Burnett’ surprise and horror must have
been total; but it couldn’t have lasted long. Kormoran’s gunfire raked the bridge where
Burnett stood and turned it to bloody ruin. Then Kormoran’s 15cm guns found their range and
hammered Sydney with heavy shelling, finishing off in the bridge what the anti aircraft and anti
tank guns had started. The damage was severe; Sydney had been caught completely by surprise;
it had only been 20 seconds since Kormoran’s first shot, but Sydney’s commander and most of
her senior officers were already likely dead. Kormoran’s 15cm guns were remarkable effective
and they silenced Sydney’s forward A and B turrets which only ever got to fire that first
high salvo. The Supermarine Walrus seaplane, still waiting with its engine turning on the
catapult, received a direct hit and exploded, spilling aviation fuel all over the
decks and starting a raging fire. Kormoran’s 20mm anti aircraft guns blasted away,
keeping Sydney’s men from reaching the exposed torpedo mounts and 4 inch guns. Sydney had been
silent since the first salvo and was now burning; but then X and Y turret burst into life again and
lobbed shells at Kormoran. Sydney’s fire control station had been knocked out, so the crew in X and
Y turrets had to judge the range and firing angle for themselves; incredibly, X Turret found their
mark and a shell tore through Kormoran’s funnel. More shells tore through Kormoran’s
hull, the engine room, gun stations and then the electrical plant cutting off
supply for the ship’s main generators. Incredibly these two modern warships were now
sailing side by side at point blank range, exchanging gun shots like a pair of 17th century
galleons. Sydney’s ‘Y’ turret also fired by its shells fell wide; these two gun turrets fired
on, the only defense Sydney now had against this surprise enemy. But then there was an enormous
explosion and Sydney trembled in the water.
Detmers had fired a spread of torpedoes at
the warship early in the engagement. One had now hit on the warship’s bow, a devastating
blow, that almost submerged the bow of the ship through its sheer force. Just 2 minutes into the
engagement and Sydney was now mortally wounded; her bow down in the water, the heroic cruiser
now peeled pathetically off to port but whether this was a deliberate attempt to ram Kormoran
or just an uncontrolled turn remains unclear. The turn opened Sydney’s starboard side up to
Kormoran’s guns and they raked her from stem to stern as she passed by; Sydney’s A and B turrets
exploded as they were hit by multiple 15cm shells. Sydney was now just limping at 5 knots, with X
and Y turrets pointing in the wrong direction, they had no answer to Kormoran’s fire.
Detmers wanted to close the range again, which had now increased to 4,000 meters – so he
could finish the cruiser off but Kormoran’s engine revolutions were falling and he attempted to raise
the engine room via telephone from the bridge. He got no response; because the engineers
had most likely all been killed.
For most ships, a hit to the funnel would
be purely cosmetic and no cause for concern; but Kormoran employed a complex system
of piping within the funnel which carried fuel oil up to be heated before being
pumped back down into the boilers. This was more efficient for her engines; but
it also meant Sydney’s hit on the funnel sent a cascading fountain of burning fuel oil back
down into the raider’s boiler and engine rooms, incinerating the men on watch and rendering the
engine rooms useless. Kormoran began to vibrate as her engine revolutions raced out of control but
her gun crews continued to hammer Sydney at range. Finally, at 6.25 – 55 minutes
since battle had broken out, Kormoran cased fire at a range of 10,400 meters. Detemers knew the battle had been one, but
now he had to tend to his wounded ship. Sydney’s bow lay low in the water and
she was burning fiercely from the bridge to the after funnel. Through the night,
Sydney drifted and burned over the horizon lighting the night sky with a glow that
Kormoran’s crew could see in the darkness. Some time after midnight Sydney’s damaged bow
detached from the hull and the ship sank. The pride of Australia’s navy and people slipped
beneath the waves. There were no survivors.
