Free Battleship Bismarck by Burkard Baron Von Mullenheim-Rechberg Page B

from whom it is impossible to keep our approaching departure secret—war correspondents, prize crews, and B-Dienst * teams come aboard daily—still does not know that our departure has been postponed. Everyone is working on the final preparations with enthusiastic energy. I fear a considerable setback in morale if the delay is long.” Then again:
The first stage of the ship’s life since her commissioning on 24 August 1940 has come to a successful conclusion. Our goal has been attained in eight months, only 14 days more than the original schedule (Easter) allowed, and that was only because we had to wait in Hamburg for six weeks because the Kiel Canal was blocked and ice was creating a problem.
The crew can be proud of this feat. It was achieved because the desire to come to grips with the enemy as soon as possible was so strong that I had no hesitance in making extraordinary demands on the crew over long periods of time, and because the ship and her systems suffered no major malfunction or damage, despite heavy demands and very little time in port. The level of training is equivalent to that attained by big combatants preparing for the annual battle practice inspection in a good peacetime year. Even though my crew, with few exceptions, has had no combat experience, I have the comforting feeling that, with this ship, I will be able to accomplish any mission assigned to me. This feeling is strengthened by the fact that, in combination with the level of training achieved, we have—for the first time in years—a ship whose fighting qualities are at least a match for any enemy.
The delay in our departure, whose approximate date obviously could not be kept from the crew, is a bitter disappointment to everyone concerned.
I will use the waiting time the same way as before, to acquire a still higher degree of training, but I will allow the crew more rest, and give more time to divisional exercises and the external conditioning of the ship, activities that have understandably had to be severely restricted in recent weeks.
    The following days were devoted to continuing battle drills, maintenance, and division drills. Statz had his hands full; he inspected the shafts for the engine battle circuits, lubricated the bevel wheel connections, and saw for the first time the little white box with the red letters “Procedure V” * in the pumping room for setting off the scuttling charges if that became necessary. The idea that it would ever have to be used was as remote as the stars. “Soon we were so keyed up,” the then twenty-four-year-old petty officer wrote later, “that we burned to see our first action. The numerous rumors and watchwords of an imminent operation heightened this tension from day to day.”
    It was announced that the fleet staff would embark in the Bismarck on 12 May and conduct a practical test of its collaboration with the ship’s command in a clear-for-action drill at sea the following day. The staff numbered approximately sixty-five men. It consisted of the Fleet Commander, Admiral Günther Lütjens, his chief of staff, Kapitän zur See Harald Netzbandt, with whom he had been close friends for years, three other senior officers, the fleet engineer, the fleet surgeon, the officer in charge of the B-Dienst, and a few junior officers, plus petty officers and men.

    Kapitän zur See Harald Netzbandt, Admiral Lütjens’s chief of staff. (Photograph courtesy of Hans H. Hildebrand.)
    Then fifty-one years old, Lütjens was an undemonstrative man, tall and thin, with dark, serious eyes. He entered the Imperial Navy as a cadet in 1907 and first saw the world from the heavy cruiser Freya the same year. After completing the required courses at the Naval School and graduating twentieth out of a total of 160 midshipmen in his class, in 1909 he had his first sea duty in a position of responsibility in a big ship. That tour was followed by many years in the sort of training assignments with which he was to be repeatedly