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In the hushed pre-dawn hours of May 24th, 1941, off the desolate coast of Iceland, Task Force Commander Günther Lütjens stands on the bridge of the German battleship Bismarck, an imposing figure cloaked in the weight of responsibility. The chilling mist envelops the sea as the seasoned officer gazes into the darkness, contemplating the perilous mission that lies ahead. His orders: to traverse the treacherous Atlantic waters and unleash havoc upon British cargo vessels. For this formidable task, he commands the most feared ship in Europe – the Bismarck, a behemoth that strikes fear into the hearts of the enemy.
Beside the Bismarck glides the heavy cruiser Prinz Eugen, a vessel powerful in its own right. The twin of the Blucher whose story I also covered on this blog However, the grandeur of the moment does not resonate with Lütjens; instead, an air of vulnerability hangs over him. The Royal Navy, with its numerical superiority, looms ominously. With less than the intended force, Lütjens senses the imminent threat. Tension permeates the bridge, exacerbated by encounters with enemy vessels that shattered any hope of reaching the Atlantic undetected.
As the crew prepares for the inevitable clash, smoke trails emerge on the horizon. The dreaded moment has arrived. "Call the crew to battle stations," orders Lütjens as alarms echo through both vessels. The formidable silhouette of the HMS Hood and the HMS Prince of Wales materializes on the horizon, closing in on the German fleet.
The adversaries exchange salvos, the sea erupting in towering geysers as shells miss their targets. Bismarck's captain, Ernst Lindemann, implores Lütjens for permission to open fire. Lütjens, calculating and strategic, weighs his options. A fleeting hope of outrunning the Royal Navy lingers. However, as enemy shells rain down, Lütjens relents, granting the order to open fire.
The thunderous roar of Bismarck's guns shatters the morning silence, launching colossal shells towards the HMS Hood. A critical shot finds its mark, and a colossal explosion ensues, sending the pride of the Royal Navy to a watery grave. The tide turns in favor of the Germans, but Lütjens remains stoic, ordering the relentless pursuit of the HMS Prince of Wales who luckily escapes the onslaught.
As the battle unfolds, Bismarck sustains damage, its floatplane crane and torpedo bulkhead compromised. Despite the need for repairs, Lütjens, wary of lurking heavy cruisers, forgoes slowing down and presses on with the mission. The undamaged Prinz Eugen is detached to continue the raid independently, while Bismarck, battered but resolute, heads to Saint-Nazaire for crucial repairs.
Unknown to Lütjens, a British Sunderland flying boat tracks Bismarck's oil trail, alerting the Royal Navy to the battleship's location. With the weather deteriorating, Lütjens seizes the opportunity to detach Prinz Eugen, marking their parting in the vast Atlantic. However, a new threat emerges as lookout reports incoming planes.
The sky lights up with anti-aircraft fire as Swordfish torpedo bombers descend upon Bismarck. Despite ingenious evasive maneuvers, the battleship sustains damage. Repair efforts are hampered, and the British gain crucial time. Unaware of the consequences, Lütjens continues sending reports, unknowingly aiding the pursuing British fleet.
As the chase intensifies, a Catalina follows Bismark oil trail on the ocean and finally spots Bismarck, sealing its fate. A relentless Swordfish raid inflicts further damage, rendering the battleship inmaneuverable and moving in circles as one of the two rudders are damaged. Despite the crew's determination, the ship's fate is sealed. In a final transmission, Lütjens expresses unwavering loyalty to the Fuhrer and Germany.
Harassed by enemy destroyers, Bismarck faces its final stand against HMS Rodney and HMS King George V. An unsteady course makes accurate fire impossible, and a devastating salvo plunges into the ships bridge . The top command perishes, leaving lower officers to futilely resist the relentless onslaught.
By 9:30 am on May 27th, Bismarck, reduced to a burning wreck, fires its last salvo. British ships close in, unopposed. The vessel, now under the Chief of Damage Repair Stations, succumbs to scuttling charges, sinking into the unforgiving depths. Out of the 2200 souls on board, a mere 114 are rescued from the icy waters, marking the tragic end of the illustrious Bismarck's hunt. The Kriegsmarines loss of the Bismark made the Kriegsmarine realise that they cannot compete against the might and numbers of the Royal Navy with surface battleships making them to lean towards the idea of more submarines.
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