Today, approximately 70 Gasturb 13s remain in service. They run on hydrogen blends, on landfill gas, on biodiesel. Their control systems have been upgraded with open-source PLCs, their combustors fitted with 3D-printed nozzles, their old magnetic bearings replaced with modern active magnetic systems. The “Vinter Scream” is quieter now, but still unmistakable. Gasturb 13 never won any efficiency records. It never powered a megacity or a supercarrier. What it did was survive—and in surviving, it taught the power industry a lesson that executives have forgotten and relearned every decade since: resilience is more valuable than peak performance. A turbine that can run on garbage, start in a thunderstorm, and tolerate a drunk operator is worth more than a pristine machine that requires a PhD and a cleanroom.
The result, after 13 compressor redesigns—hence the name—was the GT-13/2. It was a 42-megawatt, dual-shaft machine with a pressure ratio of 16:1 and a turbine inlet temperature of 1,230°C (2,246°F). Unremarkable on paper. But its soul was in the details: a configuration that placed the generator at the air intake side, allowing the hot exhaust to be ducted directly into a heat recovery steam generator without awkward bends. And a variable inlet guide vane (VIGV) system so precise that operators joked the turbine could “read a newspaper” at 50% load. Anatomy of a Legend To walk around a Gasturb 13 in its natural habitat—say, the boiler house of the Holmens Bruk paper mill in Norrköping, Sweden—was to experience industrial design as art and menace. The machine was 11 meters long, painted a heat-faded battleship gray, with the telltale orange-brown staining around every bolted joint that signaled years of leaky, righteous operation. Gasturb 13
A two-stage, free-power turbine (separate from the gas generator spool) that turned at a fixed 3,600 rpm for 60 Hz grids. This was the genius of the dual-shaft design. When the generator breaker tripped or the grid frequency dipped, the gas generator spool could overspeed by up to 15% without destroying the power turbine. A GE Frame 5 would have shed its blades. A Gasturb 13 would simply howl louder, then settle back. One operator at a Louisiana chemical plant reported that his unit survived 47 grid disturbances in a single hurricane season—and still started the next morning. The Operational Reality Owning a Gasturb 13 was like owning a vintage sports car: exhilarating when running, but requiring a sixth sense to keep it that way. The turbine’s Achilles’ heel was its magnetic thrust bearing . Because of the cold-end drive arrangement, the entire 8-ton gas generator spool was supported on a single, oil-lubricated magnetic bearing at the compressor inlet. When it worked, it was frictionless perfection. When it failed—usually due to contaminated lube oil—the spool would walk forward, grinding its blades into the stator. A “spool walk” event was the stuff of nightmares: a deep, guttural grinding noise followed by a cloud of atomized titanium and the smell of burned ester oil. Today, approximately 70 Gasturb 13s remain in service
Unlike the can-annular or silo designs of competitors, Gasturb 13 used a single annular reverse-flow combustor . Fuel (natural gas or #2 diesel) was injected through 24 nozzles arranged in a ring, with the flame front traveling backward relative to the compressor discharge. This allowed for a longer residence time at lower peak temperatures, drastically cutting NOx emissions to 15 ppm—a miracle for the early 1990s without selective catalytic reduction. The downside: the reverse-flow design created a resonant frequency at 75% load that could shake the entire building. Operators learned to “punch through” that band quickly, accelerating from 74% to 76% in under two seconds, lest the windows shatter. The “Vinter Scream” is quieter now, but still
But not all. In 2019, a peculiar thing happened. As renewable penetration soared in Europe, grid operators discovered that modern, high-efficiency combined-cycle plants were too slow . They needed machines that could go from spark to full load in under 12 minutes—the Gasturb 13’s specialty. A small industry of “Gasturb 13 revivalists” emerged, centered around a former United Turbine field engineer named Klaus Dettweiler, who had secretly stockpiled 40,000 critical parts in a warehouse in Szczecin, Poland.
Officially designated the by its manufacturer, the long-defunct Anglo-Swedish consortium United Turbine AB , the moniker “Gasturb 13” stuck. It was a reference not to a model number, but to the thirteenth major design iteration of a core compressor architecture that first spooled up in 1982. To engineers, it was a paradox: a machine with the thermodynamic efficiency of a much larger turbine but the footprint of a regional power plant workhorse. To plant operators, it was a stubborn, loyal, and occasionally terrifying metallic dragon that demanded respect. To the energy industry, Gasturb 13 was the machine that bridged the gap between the brute-force industrial turbines of the 1970s and the digitally-optimized hybrids of the 2000s. The Genesis of a Compromise The story of Gasturb 13 begins not with a clean sheet of paper, but with a failure. In 1978, United Turbine AB had bet its future on the Gasturb 10 , a massive, 150-megawatt single-shaft machine designed for base-load coal-gasification plants. The oil crises of the decade had made coal seem like the future, but the Gasturb 10 was a nightmare: it was prone to first-stage blade creep, its annular combustor suffered from harmonic instability, and its control system—a labyrinth of analog relays and hydraulic actuators—was obsolete before it left the factory. Only seven units were ever sold.