On the causes of the death of the squadron battleship Oslyabya. Finale
В previous article I presented calculations of the Oslyabya's sinking, showing how much water the battleship would have had to take into its compartments to achieve a list of approximately 12 degrees and a trim by the bow "right up to the hawse holes," as witnesses observed. The calculation results are as follows:
1. To obtain the observed list of the Oslyaba, taking into account the mass of water on the living deck (which reached 697-715 tons) and in the compartments below, it would have been sufficient to have received no more than 150-278 tons of water into the coal bins and adjacent spaces—not including counter-flooding. Taking counter-flooding into account, it is likely that 200-350 tons of water were received into the coal bins and adjacent compartments on the port side.
2. To obtain the observed trim, in addition to the flooding and water masses on the living deck specified in paragraph 1, 160–200 tons of water or more must have accumulated in the forward compartments below the living deck.
3. In both cases, we're talking about the amount of water in the compartments at the time of the Oslyabya's failure, not the amount that entered the ship. The amount of water entering these compartments must have been significantly greater, as some of the water was pumped out by dewatering devices—turbines.
Based on the reasons I outlined in previous articles, it's most likely that these floods were the result of two large-caliber shell hits, one of which struck opposite the first compartment of the living deck, and the other in the area of coal pit 10. However, it's also possible that there was also a hit in the area of coal pit 16, or that a shell exploded near the side, causing water to enter the reserve powder magazine of the 10-inch guns. In the latter case, the amount of water expected to be in the forward compartments increases further, since flooding in the area of coal pit 16 would have acted as a counterflood, correcting the ship's trim by the bow.
Are such floods physically possible?
That the forward compartments below the living quarters could absorb 200 tons of water is beyond doubt, but could the Oslyabya have absorbed 200–350 tons of water as a result of a spill into the area of the 10th coal pit? Yes, quite possibly. According to copies of the plans provided by Krestyaninov and Molodtsov, the area of the 10th and 12th coal pits, along with the adjacent corridors and the ammunition magazine for the 6-inch guns at the lower deck level, can be estimated at 60,3 square meters. Considering that the water reached the second boiler room, this means the water entered through spaces occupying approximately three interdeck spaces below the living quarters. That is, at least 7 meters.
These dimensions yield a parallelepiped with a volume of approximately 422 cubic meters. Even if a third to half of this space were occupied by shells, coal, and other cargo (which is doubtful), there would still be room for 216–288 tons of water. And this doesn't include, of course, the water that flooded the ship onto the living deck, which increased steadily as the ship began to list.
The main cause of flooding
A hit near the first compartment of the living deck allowed water to enter not only the first and second compartments of that deck, but also the compartments below: through ventilation pipes, hatches, and "deck gaps" (according to M.P. Sablin). However, as part of the survivability measures, the hatches should have been closed (V. Zavarin mentions this), and the flooding through the ventilation and gaps should have been contained. But, as we know from witness testimony, this was not achieved: the water kept coming in. Considering that approximately 35 minutes elapsed between the hit and the ship's incapacitation, even an influx of 200 tons of water averages a significant 5,7 tons per minute, or 95 kg per second. Of course, one could assume that the bulk of the water entered immediately after the battle damage, and that the flooding then largely ceased, but this is not the case. If this were the case, the bow would have become lower quite quickly, but according to eyewitnesses, it increased gradually. This is typical of gradual and, unfortunately, uncontrolled flooding.
The same applies to the hit in the area of the 10th coal pit. This hit shouldn't have caused any serious flooding. It was expected that the water would flood the space between the slope and the side, nothing more. If this had happened, the amount of water entering the Oslyabya would have been extremely insignificant and would not have caused any noticeable list. But M. P. Sablin was forced to activate the turbines in the holds of the first and second boiler rooms, indicating that the water had penetrated very far here too—far further than the battleship's structural protection would have allowed.
Therefore, the problem wasn't battle damage to the ship, but the crew's failure to contain the water ingress into the Oslyabya. But what about flood control on other battleships of the same class?
Squadron battleship Peresvet
During the Battle of the Yellow Sea, two large-caliber Japanese shells, likely both 12-inch caliber, struck the Peresvet's unarmored bow near the waterline, one each in the first and second compartments of the living deck. The first shell struck the side opposite the electroplating shop and exploded there, "bulging the door and corrugated iron bulkheads." Water pouring into the compartment washed everything out. According to eyewitnesses, the water flooded the living deck to a depth of 1,5 feet. Apparently, the bulkheads, buckled by the explosion, lost their watertight seal, causing water from the electroplating shop to spill across the first compartment of the living deck.
But the watertight bulkhead between the first and second compartments remained intact, limiting the flooding to the deck of the first compartment. The deck itself, hatches, ventilation, etc., were undamaged and unsealed, preventing water from penetrating below the living deck.
The second hit hit the second compartment of the living deck in the office room and caused the same effect as the first. Interestingly, in the official stories The water level on the living deck is even higher than in the first compartment—two feet instead of one and a half. The only difference was that the hatch to the mine-laying compartment in the second compartment was open, allowing water to flow through it into this compartment, the under-turret compartment, and the "bomb magazines." But as soon as the hatch was battened down, the water flow below the living deck stopped.
As a result, for the Peresvet, everything ended with, according to eyewitnesses, water splashing on the battleship's living deck, flooding it by 1,5–2 feet, that is, roughly 46–61 cm. Apparently, a slight trim developed, but it did not increase, so the Peresvet was able to continue to hold formation and fight.
Another rather nasty hit landed under the forward casemates of the Peresvet's 6-inch guns. The blow struck the armor belt, although the armor plate wasn't penetrated, but... I'll cite the testimony of a senior officer. artillery officer of the Peresvet V.N. Cherkasov:
"The corner of the slab was apparently poorly reinforced, causing it to sag inward about two feet. Only the soft part of the slab was bent, while the hardened part developed several concentric cracks. Water flooded the 33rd and 37th compartments, the upper (20 tons each) and the lower (60 tons each). The lower compartments flooded through manholes in the carapace deck, which were not tightly sealed. At anchor in Arthur, they were quickly pumped out, after which the water rose very slowly."
As a result of the damage sustained, Peresvet took on 160 tons of water, stopping the influx. Had the filler necks been intact, only 40 tons would have been absorbed instead of 160. As part of the survivability struggle, the resulting list was "corrected" by counter-flooding, and the battleship maintained its line without issue at 13 knots until, after the Tsarevich was disabled, the line collapsed. However, Peresvet's battle damage was, of course, not to blame for this.
Despite receiving this damage, the battleship only began to experience any noticeable problems after the battle, as described by Cherkasov:
"At night, after a daytime battle, the following phenomenon was observed: when, upon the appearance of an enemy destroyer, the ships put the rudder overboard and pointed their stern at the destroyer, the Peresvet began to slowly list in the direction opposite to the turn. Consequently, the water standing in the living deck began to roll from one side to the other, thereby increasing the angle of list. The list reached 7-8 degrees, and the battleship remained in this position, and no urge was noticed either to right itself or to list further until the rudder was lifted; then the battleship again began to roll in the opposite direction and again reached a list of 7-8 degrees."
Why didn't this happen in battle? The fact is that the battleship's condition was a consequence of a reduction in its metacentric height, which occurred for a number of reasons. Cherkasov describes them as follows:
“In general, it was felt that the battleship was in a precarious state of equilibrium, which was explained by the fact that the coal from the lower coal pits had been used up, shells, charges and bowers had been used up in large quantities, and some had been raised to the surface as a reserve for the guns, and water was moving in large masses along the deck, as a result of which the center of gravity of the battleship, in addition to rising to a dangerous height, changed its position in the plane of the frames during the list in a direction unfavorable for stability.”
It must be said that the expenditure of shells, while significant, was not so significant as to significantly impact stability. In total, Peresvet expended 109 10-inch shells, 809 6-inch shells, 484 75-mm shells, and 834 47-mm shells (the figures for the 75-mm and 47-mm shells include expended ammunition), which, including propellants, amounts to just over 80 tons. Even if another 30 tons of shells were transferred from the magazines to the guns, that is, shifted from the lower to the upper weight, this is still not a significant change.
Coal consumption, however, is a different matter entirely. According to N. N. Kuteynikov, flagship naval engineer of the Port Arthur detachment:
"The draft in the boilers dropped significantly due to damage to the smokestacks and casings, so coal consumption was likely excessive. I saw nearly empty coal pits on the Peresvet and Sevastopol."
I don't have precise information about the coal reserves on board the Peresvet before the battle, but it was approximately 1500 tons. This was less than the full reserve, but due to the fact that with a full coal reserve, the ship's draft reached 31 feet, which meant the battleship could only enter the outer roadstead of Port Arthur at high tide, Admiral S.O. Makarov set the combat coal reserve at 1500 tons. There is no information about this order being rescinded, therefore, it can be assumed that it was with this reserve that the Peresvet went into battle on July 28, 1904.
Given the testimony of Kuteinikov and Cherkasov, it's safe to say that the battleship consumed a significant portion of its coal reserves: in any case, we're talking about many hundreds of tons. Moreover, by using coal from the lower pits and not transferring it from the upper to the lower ones—and, judging by Cherkasov's testimony, this is precisely what happened—the battleship's "lower" weight was significantly reduced, causing the Peresvet's center of gravity to shift upward.
Accordingly, the free flow of water into the forward compartments certainly reduced the ship's stability, but this was not felt until a significant change in its internal loads occurred. However, once the Peresvet took on water in its double-bottom compartments (excluding the forward ones, to avoid increasing the trim), the ship, according to eyewitnesses, regained its seaworthiness to such an extent that the officers were prepared to immediately consider a repeat attempt to break through to Vladivostok. Consequently, even under these conditions, the loss of stability was easily countered by standard survivability measures.
Squadron battleship "Victory"
I've previously described the damage Pobeda sustained from contact with a Japanese mine, but I'll briefly recap. The explosion occurred on March 31, 1904, the day Admiral S.O. Makarov died. The explosion, at a depth of 11 feet, created an underwater hole extending from frames 54 to 58 and measuring 24 by 16 feet (7,31 by 4,87 m).
As a result, two coal pits located opposite the side of the ship that had been torn apart by the explosion flooded, as did two sections of the side corridor. A small amount of water leaked into the ammunition magazine, which, however, did not flood. This was the extent of the water ingress into the Pobeda.
Pobeda also suffered in the Battle of Shantung. A Japanese 12-inch shell struck below the ship's waterline, knocking out a plug in the 229-mm armor belt. This plug, weighing 7 poods and 20 pounds (approximately 120 kg), along with the warhead of the Japanese shell, in turn penetrated the inner side into the lower coal pit. This pit, along with three adjacent compartments, was flooded, but the water's spread stopped.
Analysis of damage to the Peresvet, Pobeda, and Oslyabya
As can be seen from the descriptions I provided above, the Peresvet and Pobeda were hit by four 12-inch shells between them and were struck by a mine once, each of which resulted in water ingress into the ships' hulls. But in all five cases, the sinkings were successfully contained, with little effort on the part of the crew.
At the same time, judging by the available data, the Oslyabya experienced uncontrolled flooding in two out of two cases. Moreover, while the impact in the area of the 10th coal pit is still debatable, the uncontrolled flooding of the forward compartments below the living deck is hardly refutable: it is supported by both my calculations and, more importantly, by eyewitness accounts.
It's also noteworthy that, in at least one instance, the damage to the battleship Pobeda was far more severe than both hits on the Oslyabya combined. I'm speaking, of course, of the mine explosion, which opened a natural gateway for seawater into the ship's interior. Not only was the area of the breach likely greater than the impact of two or three 12-inch high-explosive shells striking close together, but the impact didn't hit the freeboard or even the waterline, but rather the underwater portion of the ship, causing the water that gushed into its compartments to enter under great pressure. Nevertheless, the water ingress was limited to the coal pits, two sections of the side corridor, and a small leak into the ammunition magazine, the leaks into which were so insignificant that they are often not mentioned at all.
About the reasons for uncontrollable flooding
So, in the Peresvet and Pobeda, water ingress into the hull was contained five times out of five, but in the Oslyabya, this failed to be done two times out of two. Why? It's certainly possible to chalk this up to the inevitable accidents of the sea, but such an explanation seems extremely far-fetched. Still, there's a clear pattern here, and it's not in the Oslyabya's favor.
But what was so different about the Oslyabya from the Peresvet and Pobeda that could have affected its structural integrity? The only fundamental difference was the construction site. While the Peresvet and Pobeda were built at the Baltic Shipyard, the Oslyabya was built at the New Admiralty, part of the Saint Petersburg port, whose quality of work I described in the first articles of this series.
In them, I described in detail the differences between the state-owned shipyards of the St. Petersburg port and the Baltic Shipyard, which, although de facto state-owned, still managed to maintain the structure of a commercial enterprise. Without repeating these in detail, I will simply note that the Baltic Shipyard's advantages in overall shipyard management, procurement, personnel policy, and staff motivation are undeniable.
While the Baltic Shipyard had built a strong workforce, with highly paid workers wisely managed by experienced foremen and engineers, the St. Petersburg Port treated its rank-and-file employees as a readily renewable resource: paying them below market value and firing them when orders failed. The result was an extremely low-quality workforce. And the so-called "directors" who were supposed to perform the foremen's duties were so "good" that the former head of the St. Petersburg Port categorically refused to appoint them over the workers, knowing that doing so would lead them to all manner of abuses.
While at the Baltic Shipyard, a single shipbuilder was responsible for the construction of a ship, at the St. Petersburg port, the construction manager was replaced after the ship's launch. Moreover, speedy launch was incentivized financially, through the payment of so-called "pensions," which literally forced shipbuilders to push the ship, rewarded with impunity: no matter what condition the ship was launched in, another builder would be held accountable for any flaws in the construction.
The St. Petersburg port, in pursuit of petty savings, often split orders for complex ship systems among multiple suppliers, which, of course, was far from beneficial to the reliability of the systems once they were assembled.
Naturally, given the state of the St. Petersburg port, its performance left much to be desired, a fact noted by many and publicized. Perhaps the matter could have been hushed up, but the state of the state-owned shipyards came to the attention of A.F. Vasiliev, Controller General of the Department of Military and Naval Reporting. Even the head of the Naval Ministry could not ignore his "Most Humble Report."
As a result, the management fleet Not only did it recognize the claims as legitimate, but it also made significant efforts to normalize the operations of the St. Petersburg port shipyards. Thus, in December 1898, the Commission for Developing Measures to Improve Shipbuilding Conditions in the St. Petersburg Port began its work, headed by Vice-Admiral V.P. Verkhovsky, then head of the Main Directorate of Shipbuilding and Shipbuilding.
However, by the time this commission began its work, the Oslyabya had already been launched. And one shouldn't think that the commission immediately corrected all the shortcomings of the St. Petersburg port: the comparatively low efficiency of its shipyards persisted for many years, as I demonstrated using the example of the construction of the battleship Borodino. Let me simply remind you that in 1903, an average of 592 craftsmen worked daily on the battleship Borodino, while only 302 worked on the Knyaz Suvorov. Yet, the Knyaz Suvorov was completed faster than the Borodino.
Based on the above, the conclusion that the quality of the Oslyabya's construction could not possibly have been on par with the Peresvet and Pobeda is undeniable. This suggests that it was precisely this quality of construction that led to the uncontrolled sinking and, consequently, the Oslyabya's rapid destruction in the Battle of Tsushima.
Conclusion
In his series of articles, the respected A. Rytik concluded that the Oslyabya's demise had nothing to do with the quality of its construction, and that the main cause of the disaster was the accuracy of the Japanese gunners, who managed to hit the battleship's waterline with seven large-caliber shells in a relatively short time.
For the reasons stated in the article "On the damage that predetermined the destruction of the Oslyabya in the Battle of Tsushima"I believe the Oslyabya received only three, possibly four, such hits, with the third and fourth (if they existed) playing no significant role. The Oslyabya was destroyed as a result of damage sustained from just two hits—to the first compartment on the living deck and to the 10th coal pit.
Moreover, I would venture to assert that the Oslyabya's fate was the consequences of a single, initial hit to the bow opposite the first compartment of the living deck. It was the ingress of water below the living deck that caused the battleship to tilt dramatically by the bow. Of course, neither 160 nor 200 tons of water in the forward compartments alone could have lowered the Oslyabya's bow to the hawse holes, but since the Japanese shell's impact opened access to the living deck, it easily did.
Any ship has a reserve of buoyancy, formed by watertight compartments above sea level. If the Oslyabya had lost the watertight seal of the first and second compartments of the living deck as a result of combat damage, but the water had not entered, the battleship would have been relatively harmless, as happened to the Peresvet. If the Oslyabya had sustained an underwater hole, say, by striking rocks, and taken on 200 tons of water, but the side near the living deck remained intact, the ship would only have settled slightly by the bow. In this case, as the trim increased, part of the first compartment of the living deck would have sunk below sea level, and the volume of this part would have generated a buoyant force, quickly halting the increase in trim.
But a hit to the battleship's bow near the living quarters allowed water to enter not only the compartments below the living quarters but also the first and second compartments. Their submersion, instead of generating buoyancy, led to further flooding of these compartments. As I mentioned earlier, the British armor system, which did not protect the ends, could only be effective under one condition: if the unarmored side were to be destroyed, the armored deck had to be watertight, preventing water from leaking into the holds below.
Unfortunately, in the case of the Oslyabya, the structural protection failed to cope with its task. Consequently, even if there had been no breaches in the coal pit area, water would have gradually filled the forward compartments below the living deck, causing a trim first up to the hawse holes and then further. It's difficult to say whether the ship would have been lost, but it's undeniable that less than an hour into the battle, the Oslyabya would have been the "lucky" owner of a trim that precluded any participation in artillery combat.
Can we say that this series of articles has settled the issue of the Oslyabya's demise, and that I speak the Absolute Truth? Of course not. The theory that the Oslyabya sank due to its poor construction and the impact of a pair of large-caliber shells remains a hypothesis.
But, as my calculations and analysis of eyewitness accounts have shown, this hypothesis is entirely justified and free from internal contradictions. At the same time, other versions require extremely broad assumptions.
For example, to achieve hits near the waterline with 7 12-inch shells, the Japanese would have had to have hit the Oslyabya dozens of times with such shells, since the hits were distributed more or less statistically across the ship's silhouette. However, only the Shikishima was continuously firing at the flagship of the 2nd Armored Detachment, while the other two battleships, after initially concentrating their fire on the Oslyabya, shifted their fire to the other Russian ships after 6 and 10 minutes. At the same time, the theory that no more than 3-4 shells hit the Oslyabya's waterline during the approximately 35 minutes of fire does not require the Japanese to be highly accurate.
Of course, my work does not provide definitive proof that the Oslyabya was destroyed by a pair of 12-inch shells. But I hope it has demonstrated to the esteemed reader that it is too early to write off this hypothesis, and that, of all the currently available opinions, this version is likely the most plausible.
Thank you for attention!
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