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Description
USS (District of) Columbia, CB-7
January 1940, the North Atlantic. Aboard the Nazi panzerschiffe Deutschland things were not going well. A major winter storm caught her unawares, and she was being tossed about like a toy in a bathtub. The amount and severity of both injuries and damage was rising, and the storm showed no sign of letting up.

And then it got much worse.

A freak giant wave hit the ship, throwing her almost to the point of capsizing, then whipping her back nearly as far in the other direction. The ship barely survived, many of her crew did not. Bridge wrecked and steering jammed, she floundered through the storm, carrying westward.

When she finally escaped the ravages of the weather, her remaining crew began working to restore her. More than two-thirds of her complement had been either killed outright or injured too severely to assist. The first hours were spent helping the wounded and assessing the situation. The highest ranking able officer, an Oberleutnant, took command, ordering repair crews to work on the steering and weapons first. A star sighting confirmed his worst fear - they were less than 200 miles from Cape Cod, and since without steering they would only draw closer, he ordered full stop.

As dawn rose, the sky cleared. A few of the lightly injured were put on watch, and all too soon one caught the glint of a patrolling aircraft.

The US Navy blimp crew could hardly believe their eyes - a Nazi raider, standing still in the water, mere hours off the US coast. They immediately called in all available ships, and began orbiting just close enough to keep her in sight.

The first ships to arrive were two Coast Guard cutters. They attempted to contact the menacing vessel, staying well back until more powerful units came up.

Despite their small size, the Deutschland's crew realized even the small patrol vessels were more than a match for their dead ship, and even if they could be defeated, the Americans were not yet officially an enemy, and they certainly had larger vessels on the way. Reluctantly, the commanding Oberleutnant ordered the white flag raised. He then ordered the weapons, engines and valuable equipment wrecked, all paperwork and especially the invaluable Enigma machines thrown overboard and the crew to abandon ship.

The American cutters watched in wonder as the oversized cruiser surrendered to them. The best they had hoped for was to send the belligerent out of American waters; instead they slowly approached the dying ship. When it was clear this was no Nazi trick, they called for other vessels to assist in recovering the remaining crew.

The Oberleutnant officially surrendered his crew, explained the situation, and requested help in recovering those too injured to leave his ship. As one cutter pulled men from lifeboats, the other sent lines to the cruiser and began the process of saving the wounded. They also sent men aboard, ostensibly to search for survivors, but also to recover any useful data. The German crew had been very efficient, leaving behind only a few scraps of paper and bits of electronics. Several sea cocks had also been broken open, and she was steadily taking on water. The Guardsmen attempted to seal them, closing every watertight door and hatch in an attempt to keep her afloat.

After taking off the last of the crew, the Guardsmen sent their location to shore, and as they sailed home the stricken vessel sank lower, seemingly on her way to the bottom of the Atlantic. The Oberleutnant had also secretly lit fuses before leaving, so that even if his first and last command didn't sink on her own, scuttling charges would finish her.

However, when a patrol vessel sent to follow up arrived at the location the next day, Deutschland remained afloat, albeit listing noticeably with her quarterdeck awash. The frigate captain sent a damage control crew over, radioing the situation to Boston. A salvage tug was sent, and after two days' work between the two crews, the tug took the vessel in tow. 19 hours later they entered Boston harbor, to the astonishment of all who saw her.

She was anchored in an out-of-the way place, patched and pumped enough to keep her afloat. There she was picked over by naval intelligence, who found a few items of minor interest, then left in place as a giant trophy, officially interned. Ships' crews would visit her, leaving graffiti, having their picture taken aboard or smashing something to relieve frustration at the symbol of the hated enemy.

In Germany Hitler was livid. He demanded that the entire crew be executed (they remained safe in America) and screamed at his admirals for allowing this to happen. He ordered that every captain would go down with his ship on pain of the death of their family, though this was quickly rescinded at the insistence of Doenitz and Raeder. The Fuhrer then ordered the ship sunk by any means possible, even to the point of sending subs into Boston harbor. The German admirals demurred and soon events had changed the course of the war.

In December 1941 the United States joined the Allies. Roosevelt, always looking for ways to enhance his beloved Navy, suggested that the Deutschland might prove a useful addition. At first the Navy politely explained the major difficulties of rebuilding a foreign warship, but Roosevelt found a friend in a Bostonian shipbuilder, J. Arthur Clark. Having lost three brand new ships to Nazi raiders, Clark relished the prospect of turning one of their ships into one of his own. The Navy, still skeptical, gave the shipbuilder permission to proceed, as long as it didn't interfere with new building.

Over the next eighteen months she was fixed up and reequipped. Patriotic German-American workers relabled what equipment couldn't be replaced, while diesel engineers worked to repair the engines. Watervliet Arsenal examined the ammunition for the main guns and learned how to duplicate them, while all the lighter weapons were replaced with US equipment.

When she was relaunched, only the basic outline of the ship, the main armament and the engines and drive train remained. Too big to be called a heavy cruiser, too small for a battleship, she was officially designated a large cruiser, in line with the then-building Alaska class, and given the next available number, CB-7. She was christened USS District of Columbia. The clumsiness of the name lead to her becoming just Columbia, and her crew took pride in her nickname, "Gem of the Ocean".

For obvious reasons, she was assigned to the Pacific theater. She was heavily escorted down the east coast, lest she fall victim to either vengeful Nazi subs or overzealous Allied forces. The entire Pacific fleet was thoroughly briefed about the newest US large cruiser, and her captain flew a very large American flag both in harbor and at sea, with flags also painted on her main turrets.

Once in the Pacific she sailed to Pearl, still under escort, for orders. The Navy wasn't certain what to do with their newest ship. She wasn't fast enough to keep up with the carriers, she was too powerful to waste on escort duties, and her former sister Graf Spee had showed the risks of surface commerce raiding.

Finally, she was sent to join the invasion bombardment fleet. Her big guns packed more punch than a heavy cruiser, her size let her go farther inshore than the old battlewagons while her acceleration and speed kept her safer, and her long cruising range allowed her to stay on station for extended periods. The Marines soon adopted her as their own, some even suggesting she be made the first US Marine Ship.

Her greatest moment came at Leyte Gulf. Left behind to support the invasion force with the escort carriers, destroyers and destroyer escorts, she was the only large warship on station when Admiral Kurita's force appeared on the horizon.

Knowing the vulnerability of his charges, her captain immediately ordered his ship on the attack. Outraced by the "small boys", her crew witnessed their heroics, including the gallant sacrifice of Johnston and Roberts. Columbia fired on every ship that came into her sights, and the strange vision of a German warship in the Pacific, shooting at them, confused the Japanese fleet enough that Columbia was not fired upon in return until well into the battle. As the attackers turned and fled she pursued, firing continuously, until she ran low on ammunition. While coming about her captain ordered torpedos fired, the only time she would do so in combat, though no hits were observed. Her crew would be awarded citations for their part in the successful defense of the vulnerable invasion force.

Sent home for overhaul, she missed Iwo Jima and Okinawa, returning to the western Pacific in time for the Japanese surrender. She was not present at the ceremony, joining the fleet kept away from Tokyo harbor in case of treachery.

After the war she carried a contingent of US forces home, and was immediately laid up. Her unique status made her an easy choice for immediate post-war retirement, and she became a victim of Atomic Test Baker, sinking within hours of the blast.

This model depicts her as she served off Leyte Gulf. She wears camouflage measure 21, and carries the following armament:

Six 11", two triples
Ten 5"/38, four twins and two singles
22 40mm, 3 quads and 5 twins
Ten 20mm
Six 21" torpedo tubes

Description
USS (District of) Columbia, CB-7
January 1940, the North Atlantic. Aboard the Nazi panzerschiffe Deutschland things were not going well. A major winter storm caught her unawares, and she was being tossed about like a toy in a bathtub. The amount and severity of both injuries and damage was rising, and the storm showed no sign of letting up.

And then it got much worse.

A freak giant wave hit the ship, throwing her almost to the point of capsizing, then whipping her back nearly as far in the other direction. The ship barely survived, many of her crew did not. Bridge wrecked and steering jammed, she floundered through the storm, carrying westward.

When she finally escaped the ravages of the weather, her remaining crew began working to restore her. More than two-thirds of her complement had been either killed outright or injured too severely to assist. The first hours were spent helping the wounded and assessing the situation. The highest ranking able officer, an Oberleutnant, took command, ordering repair crews to work on the steering and weapons first. A star sighting confirmed his worst fear - they were less than 200 miles from Cape Cod, and since without steering they would only draw closer, he ordered full stop.

As dawn rose, the sky cleared. A few of the lightly injured were put on watch, and all too soon one caught the glint of a patrolling aircraft.

The US Navy blimp crew could hardly believe their eyes - a Nazi raider, standing still in the water, mere hours off the US coast. They immediately called in all available ships, and began orbiting just close enough to keep her in sight.

The first ships to arrive were two Coast Guard cutters. They attempted to contact the menacing vessel, staying well back until more powerful units came up.

Despite their small size, the Deutschland's crew realized even the small patrol vessels were more than a match for their dead ship, and even if they could be defeated, the Americans were not yet officially an enemy, and they certainly had larger vessels on the way. Reluctantly, the commanding Oberleutnant ordered the white flag raised. He then ordered the weapons, engines and valuable equipment wrecked, all paperwork and especially the invaluable Enigma machines thrown overboard and the crew to abandon ship.

The American cutters watched in wonder as the oversized cruiser surrendered to them. The best they had hoped for was to send the belligerent out of American waters; instead they slowly approached the dying ship. When it was clear this was no Nazi trick, they called for other vessels to assist in recovering the remaining crew.

The Oberleutnant officially surrendered his crew, explained the situation, and requested help in recovering those too injured to leave his ship. As one cutter pulled men from lifeboats, the other sent lines to the cruiser and began the process of saving the wounded. They also sent men aboard, ostensibly to search for survivors, but also to recover any useful data. The German crew had been very efficient, leaving behind only a few scraps of paper and bits of electronics. Several sea cocks had also been broken open, and she was steadily taking on water. The Guardsmen attempted to seal them, closing every watertight door and hatch in an attempt to keep her afloat.

After taking off the last of the crew, the Guardsmen sent their location to shore, and as they sailed home the stricken vessel sank lower, seemingly on her way to the bottom of the Atlantic. The Oberleutnant had also secretly lit fuses before leaving, so that even if his first and last command didn't sink on her own, scuttling charges would finish her.

However, when a patrol vessel sent to follow up arrived at the location the next day, Deutschland remained afloat, albeit listing noticeably with her quarterdeck awash. The frigate captain sent a damage control crew over, radioing the situation to Boston. A salvage tug was sent, and after two days' work between the two crews, the tug took the vessel in tow. 19 hours later they entered Boston harbor, to the astonishment of all who saw her.

She was anchored in an out-of-the way place, patched and pumped enough to keep her afloat. There she was picked over by naval intelligence, who found a few items of minor interest, then left in place as a giant trophy, officially interned. Ships' crews would visit her, leaving graffiti, having their picture taken aboard or smashing something to relieve frustration at the symbol of the hated enemy.

In Germany Hitler was livid. He demanded that the entire crew be executed (they remained safe in America) and screamed at his admirals for allowing this to happen. He ordered that every captain would go down with his ship on pain of the death of their family, though this was quickly rescinded at the insistence of Doenitz and Raeder. The Fuhrer then ordered the ship sunk by any means possible, even to the point of sending subs into Boston harbor. The German admirals demurred and soon events had changed the course of the war.

In December 1941 the United States joined the Allies. Roosevelt, always looking for ways to enhance his beloved Navy, suggested that the Deutschland might prove a useful addition. At first the Navy politely explained the major difficulties of rebuilding a foreign warship, but Roosevelt found a friend in a Bostonian shipbuilder, J. Arthur Clark. Having lost three brand new ships to Nazi raiders, Clark relished the prospect of turning one of their ships into one of his own. The Navy, still skeptical, gave the shipbuilder permission to proceed, as long as it didn't interfere with new building.

Over the next eighteen months she was fixed up and reequipped. Patriotic German-American workers relabled what equipment couldn't be replaced, while diesel engineers worked to repair the engines. Watervliet Arsenal examined the ammunition for the main guns and learned how to duplicate them, while all the lighter weapons were replaced with US equipment.

When she was relaunched, only the basic outline of the ship, the main armament and the engines and drive train remained. Too big to be called a heavy cruiser, too small for a battleship, she was officially designated a large cruiser, in line with the then-building Alaska class, and given the next available number, CB-7. She was christened USS District of Columbia. The clumsiness of the name lead to her becoming just Columbia, and her crew took pride in her nickname, "Gem of the Ocean".

For obvious reasons, she was assigned to the Pacific theater. She was heavily escorted down the east coast, lest she fall victim to either vengeful Nazi subs or overzealous Allied forces. The entire Pacific fleet was thoroughly briefed about the newest US large cruiser, and her captain flew a very large American flag both in harbor and at sea, with flags also painted on her main turrets.

Once in the Pacific she sailed to Pearl, still under escort, for orders. The Navy wasn't certain what to do with their newest ship. She wasn't fast enough to keep up with the carriers, she was too powerful to waste on escort duties, and her former sister Graf Spee had showed the risks of surface commerce raiding.

Finally, she was sent to join the invasion bombardment fleet. Her big guns packed more punch than a heavy cruiser, her size let her go farther inshore than the old battlewagons while her acceleration and speed kept her safer, and her long cruising range allowed her to stay on station for extended periods. The Marines soon adopted her as their own, some even suggesting she be made the first US Marine Ship.

Her greatest moment came at Leyte Gulf. Left behind to support the invasion force with the escort carriers, destroyers and destroyer escorts, she was the only large warship on station when Admiral Kurita's force appeared on the horizon.

Knowing the vulnerability of his charges, her captain immediately ordered his ship on the attack. Outraced by the "small boys", her crew witnessed their heroics, including the gallant sacrifice of Johnston and Roberts. Columbia fired on every ship that came into her sights, and the strange vision of a German warship in the Pacific, shooting at them, confused the Japanese fleet enough that Columbia was not fired upon in return until well into the battle. As the attackers turned and fled she pursued, firing continuously, until she ran low on ammunition. While coming about her captain ordered torpedos fired, the only time she would do so in combat, though no hits were observed. Her crew would be awarded citations for their part in the successful defense of the vulnerable invasion force.

Sent home for overhaul, she missed Iwo Jima and Okinawa, returning to the western Pacific in time for the Japanese surrender. She was not present at the ceremony, joining the fleet kept away from Tokyo harbor in case of treachery.

After the war she carried a contingent of US forces home, and was immediately laid up. Her unique status made her an easy choice for immediate post-war retirement, and she became a victim of Atomic Test Baker, sinking within hours of the blast.

This model depicts her as she served off Leyte Gulf. She wears camouflage measure 21, and carries the following armament:

Six 11", two triples
Ten 5"/38, four twins and two singles
22 40mm, 3 quads and 5 twins
Ten 20mm
Six 21" torpedo tubes