

Meet the lovely and talented Bertha Krupp.
She inherited the ownership of her father's industrial empire in 1902 - at the age of sixteen. She remained the sole owner, although her husband ran things until 1943.
In 1913 the German Army adopted a new weapons system, the M-Gerät 42cm L/12 Howitzer. It was a lighter, more mobile version of a previous howitzer which had required either a concrete foundation or a railway car.
Its designers were so pleased with themselves that they'd nicknamed it Dicke Bertha.
The name stuck. It became alliterative in English which cemented it even further to the point that any big, long distance cannon was called "Big Berta" by the Allies. That includes the 30.5cmAustro-Hungarian siege gun below.
I wonder how she felt about it.
She doesn't look particularly chunky, and she was only twenty-seven when the thing was introduced. I don't get it.
I can imagine; Hubby gets home from the plant.
"Honey, guess what the guys in the shop call one of our cannons - Fat Bertha!"
Back to the matter at hand; this monster was completely road-able at a mere 42.6 tons. Once it had been broken into five different loads, each with its own wagon and hitched to a tractor, the littlechoo-choo train could go anywhere.
Once arrived however, it looks like things become a project. Beware of any activity the first step of which is the erection of a crane.
The link above shows a serious of photos that make the process as clear as mud.

Her portability notwithstanding, she showed up late for the invasion of Belgium, the two that were available that is.
Therefore for the first few days, the job of punching giant holes in the roofs of the Belgian fortresses fell to borrowed, Austro-Hungarian 30.5cm M�rser M.11's.
They weighed about half as much - and broke down much more efficiently.

Only three loads here.
Bertha though could toss her 1700# projos about eight-miles out.
Once they were there they'd punch through a meter of reinforced concrete.
A total of ten were built and eighteen barrels.
One was taken to Aberdeen Proving Ground after the war where the army tested it and deemed it too big and immobile (!!!).
Cleaning the place up in 1954 they scrapped it, the sole remaining Big Bertha.
Although there certainly was the incentive. At the last scrap price I paid for steel the old girl would go for around thirty-grand.
And she'd take up a lot of room - especially as a giant pigeon-shit collector.
Sad.
As you can see below - she may be gone but her offspring live on.

1 comment:
Great post Dan! You've almost got me interested in the other end of arty.
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