Breakout Page 12

  VII

  THE MTBs ATTACK

  Had the German battleships obligingly come through at night as the Admiralty predicted, there was a sophisticated plan for co-operation between thirty-two motor torpedo boats and Esmonde's six Swordfish torpedo bombers. There was to be a joint converging attack on both sides of the ships' bows, lit by flares from aircraft.

  They had been practising this since the beginning of February. Then two days before the break-out, the Admiralty decided the emergency was nearly over. They ordered Pizey's destroyers to "stand down" on the morning of 12 February. The day before, they removed most of the MTBs leaving only six boats in Dover commanded by Lt.-Cdr. Nigel Pumphrey. His boats were also ordered to "stand down" from fifteen minutes readiness to four hours. The crews welcomed this, because they had been living in their boats for nearly two weeks with no leave and no chance to do maintenance.

  Pumphrey's boats, with a captain and eight crew, had power-operated gun turrets, two torpedoes and depth-charges. That morning they left Dover between 7 and 8 a.m. to practise torpedo runs. Instead of a warhead, they fired torpedoes with smoke-emitting heads attached which could be picked up again after their run. If the German ships had arrived earlier the MTBs might have been caught with practice torpedoes. When they came back to Dover later in the morning, the crews immediately began to put in the warheads — known as "action fish." This took roughly twenty minutes to half an hour for each torpedo.

  At 11:30 a.m., the crews were resting with the six Dover MTBs tied up in the train ferry dock, where in peacetime the car-carrying cross-Channel steamers docked. Lt.-Cdr. Nigel Pumphrey was in his office making out reports on the morning's practice and waiting for a call from one of his officers, Lt. Paul Gibson, a Frenchman who had escaped from occupied France and taken an English name to serve with the Royal Navy. Gibson was on his way to the naval stores to see about clothing.

  While Pumphrey was waiting, the telephone rang. It was Captain Day, the naval Chief of Staff to Admiral Ramsay at Dover Castle, who said briskly, "How soon can you get cracking? The German battle-cruisers are off Boulogne."

  Pumphrey slammed down the phone and dashed into the operations room shouting, "Man all the boats — the Scharnhorst and Gneisenau are in the Straits!" Lts. Hilary Gamble and Cornish, whose boats were tied up in dock, thought he was playing a joke. Was this a case of "Wolf again? The German battleships had become such a myth to the Dover MTBs that the idea of setting off after them in broad daylight did not seem possible. When they realized he was serious they all rushed down to the quay. Even then, most of the crews still believed it was. anpther false alarm, although a messenger came running from the operations room shouting, "Get going at once! They're out!" Not all the MTBs were in running order. Pumphrey's own boat, 38, was in dry-dock for a change of petrol tanks. As Gibson was still missing Pumphrey took over his boat 221 and his crew.

  Nor were the two smaller fast 43-knot gun-boats ready. Their commanders, Stewart Gould and Roger King — another Frenchman with an assumed English name — were in Dover. Pumphrey told the duty officer to get hold of them at once, If they were to intercept the battleships sailing at near thirty knots there was not a second to be wasted.

  As each boat let go the ropes, the crews pulled on their steel helmets and made the "V" sign. Pumphrey's boat was the last to leave the ferry dock, so the others waited for him in the harbour until he could lead the flotilla out.

  The five boats left harbour steaming at twenty-four knots— ten knots slower than the German E-boats. Behind Pumphrey's 221 came young RNR Sub-Lt. Mark Arnold Forster in 219. Then came Hilary Gamble in 45, Australian Sub-Lt. Dick Saunders in 44 and Tony Law in 48. As Pumphrey led them through the breakwater, it was 11:55 a.m. — only twenty minutes after he had received the telephone call from Captain Day.

  There was a stiff breeze across the narrow harbour entrance, making it difficult to get out. As they set course for Number Two Buoy it was wet and rough with a strong westerly wind. Almost as soon as they left harbour they saw smudges of smoke made by the German E-boat screen.

  At 12:10 p.m. a Focke-Wolfe 190 squadron came out of the mist. They had never seen FW 190s before, and at first they thought they were American Curtiss fighters as they had the same radial engines. They identified them from recognition charts before opening fire. The planes were cruising a few feet above the surface with their flaps and wheels down to slow them up, looking for British torpedo bombers. As they were flying too low to dive on the MTBs they left them alone.

  FW-190

  Yet they came close enough for the MTB crews to see the goggles of the German pilots. They fired at them, but the Germans did not fire back. They were saving their ammunition for the massed RAF bombers which they were expecting. Even when Hilary Gamble shot pieces off the wing of one of the German fighters, it still did not fire.

  Going flat out at their top speed of twenty-seven knots, the MTBs had difficulty in keeping station and were already a straggling force. As they raced towards the black smoke, it suddenly cleared and Pumphrey and Arnold Forster in the two leading boats had a clear view of the great grey ships streaking through the Straits in patches of sunshine. The Germans were about five miles away with half a dozen destroyers astern of them and two dozen aircraft circling overhead.

  When he clearly saw the German battle-fleet Pumphrey sent a momentous signal. His boat tapped out in Morse: "O break U." It was the first time an enemy battle-fleet had been sighted in the Straits of Dover since the Spanish Armada.

  Pumphrey added: "Three battleships bearing 130 degrees, five nautical miles distance, course 70 degrees."

  He was to be criticized for this signal later by Captain Day. The Royal Navy, sticklers for detail, deplored the colloquial phrase "battleships" — it should have been "Two battle-cruisers and one cruiser."

  In spite of the incorrect wording the Navy acted upon Pumphrey's signal instantly. A silence descended on all wavelengths, broken every few minutes by the Admiralty in London and Dover Castle repeating the dramatic "O break U" signal.

  At 12:23 p.m., when Pumphrey's signalman tapped out the incredible news, it was the first definite confirmation that the German battleships were in the Straits.

  The German B-Dienst also picked up Pumphrey's message and translated it within a few minutes. When a German signalman handed it to Admiral Ciliax aboard Scharnhorst Raw's shells were already crashing into the waves near his ships. He learnt that at long last his battleships had been sighted by Royal Navy after steaming for fifteen hours in inexplicable uncanny silence, and it was almost a relief.

  Mark Arnold Forster, in the second British MTB, waited for Nigel Pumphrey's sighting signal but as he did not receive it he also ordered his signalman, Leading Telegraphist Pitchforth, to tap out in Morse: "O break U." He added: "Two battleships, one battle-cruiser with 20 destroyers and E-boats."

  Hilary Gamble's signalman in the third boat was still ignorant of the situation. When he picked up Arnold Forster's signal it only confirmed his views that it was all a false alarm. He said, "219 says he's seen a ruddy battle-fleet. It must be an exercise."

  The Germans were going at their top speed of thirty knots and the English boats had difficulty in catching them. They had left in such a hurry that the engines had no time to warm up. The MTBs could only make twenty-seven knots and their problem was how to intercept the battle-fleet. The battleships were travelling three knots faster and the E-boats with a speed of thirty-five knots could outsail them easily. Although the MTBs best torpedo firing range was 800 yards, they realized they would be lucky to get as close as 5–6,000 yards. As they came up towards this range, the E-boats made more smoke to protect the battleships. But they were not keeping station very well, and there was a gap between them which Pumphrey aimed to crash through.

  The cold oil made the MTB engines sound rough but they kept going at full speed as no one could afford to ease down — except Dick Saunders, who was having engine trouble. He fell miles astern with one engine out.<
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  Two more FW 190s came down to fifty feet but once again did not attack. The MTBs, cramming on every knot of speed, were still getting back over the radio from Dover and the Admiralty their "battle-fleet sighted" reports. Dover Castle was sending out radar reports every few minutes, which meant Pumphrey was able to fix the battleships' speed exactly. Even without this his crews could see their superstructures towering above the smoke.

  When the FW 190s flew away, they saw ten E-boats steaming half a mile apart. The faster-sailing E-boats kept their positions to protect the battleships, and started firing at two MTBs from 1,000 yards. The British only had machine-guns, but the E-boats had 20-mm. cannons and their shells began smashing into Pumphrey's hull. Then his engines cut out so suddenly that the bows went down into the water. Then Pumphrey's engines came to life again and he turned to drive his flotilla through the E-boat screen. As he plunged forward through the rough sea, the E-boats kept up a heavy fire. With their shells throwing spray round his boat, Pumphrey suddenly saw a great ship with destroyers surrounding her looming out of the smoke made by the E-boats. He thought it was Prinz Eugen, but it was in fact the leading ship Scharnhorst steaming at thirty knots. She was only 4,000 yards away from his MTB.

  Wilhelm Wolf and the other officers on the bridge of Scharnhorst watched the approaching MTBs as if in a theatre. They commented on the wonderful sight of the MTBs and E-boats firing as they raced over the waves, with spray tossing everywhere. Then the escort destroyers also received the order to make artificial smoke, and as Wolf remarked, "Soon the pretty picture was veiled from our vision."

  Pumphrey's boats shuddered and groaned as they pressed on every ounce of speed to try and draw ahead of the ten E-boats barring their path to the battleships. It was useless. The E-boats screwed on a few more knots and easily continued to maintain their protective patrol. The temptation for the E-boats, who outnumbered the British MTBs two-to-one, to turn towards them and shoot them out of the water was almost irresistible. But like the FW 190s, they obeyed orders and remained in station.

  Out-steamed by the E-boats and even by the battleships, Pumphrey had to make up his mind quickly. His boats were on an ideal bearing—45 degrees to the bow of the leading battleship — but the range was too far. He decided the only course was to continue to try and fight his way through a gap in the E-boats to narrow the range to 2,000 yards.

  It was a dangerous decision which might mean all his boats would be lost. But as he turned to charge through the E-boat screen it was taken out of his hands. His starboard engine failed and his speed fell to sixteen knots.

  There was only one thing to do — wait as long as he dared, until the E-boat fire became too heavy, then fire at 4,000 yards. Pumphrey chugged along at a dangerously low speed but fort'unately the sea was too rough for accurate shooting. The E-boats fired frantically at his boat but missed. When machine-gunning German fighters dived low over the MTB he ordered the others to split up and make individual attacks.

  Although his damaged boat was being attacked from air and sea, he still held his fire. If he could keep afloat and wait until the battleships came abreast of him, he could fire at a range of two miles.

  While machine-gun bullets and cannon shells whistled past his boat, exploding on the waves, a battleship came into his sights. He was pointing 221 's nose at her ready to launch his torpedoes, when warning shouts came from his gunners. Two E-boats had raced up to within 800 yards and begun firing. His gunners fired back at the E-boats, as he pulled the release lever and his two torpedoes splashed into the sea. A great crash split the air, and he thought it was one of his torpedoes registering a hit. Then he saw a shell splash mushrooming from the sea. It was one of the 9.2 shells from South Foreland landing near the battleships. Pumphrey realized his torpedoes had missed. There was nothing more he could do. He swung his boat away from the battle.

  Meanwhile the other MTBs were trying desperately to approach nearer to the battleships. Arnold Forster of 219 and Tony Law of 48 twisted their boats furiously as they were attacked by the E-boats and increasing swarms of fighters. They steamed to within 400 yards of the E-boat screen to launch their torpedoes from a range of 3,500 yards.

  When they approached their nearest to the German battleships, Able-Seaman McDonald suddenly rushed on deck carrying an old Ross rifle. Arnold Forster says, "It was a World War I rifle which was used for sentry-go while we were tied up ashore. He started firing at the Prinz Eugen with this old rifle. He fired twenty-five rounds in all. I don't think he did any damage but it made him feel better."

  German fire now became so heavy that they sheered off and watched their torpedoes running. The Germans then switched their fire to Gamble, who followed in 45 ready to launch his torpedoes.

  The torpedoes from the three MTBs began to run, but Gneisenau and Prinz Eugen turned 90 degrees to port and their last hope of a lucky hit vanished. Scharnhorst also turned towards the MTBs. This presented Australian Dick Saunders who had caught up, his engine working again, with a distant target. After firing his torpedoes he saw a plume of smoke spout up, but he too had missed. It was another shell landing. As the E-boat commanders, realizing the British boats had fired all their torpedoes, broke off the action and resumed station, suddenly out of the smoke-screen came the German destroyer, Friedrich Ihn, steaming at high speed towards Pumphrey's MTBs. Without torpedoes, they were helpless against the destroyer so they too immediately made smoke and scattered.

  Friedrich Ihn chased them but her gunnery was inaccurate and all her shells missed. Yet she was overhauling them fast and any minute it looked as if they would be hit, so Arnold Forster and Law practised a little crude psychological warfare on the German destroyer. While she fired her 4.7 inch guns at them, they turned across her bows giving the impression that they were going to drop a depth-charge in her path. This confused the German gunners and caused her captain, Lt.-Cdr. Wachsmuth, to change course rapidly.

  The chase lasted for five minutes. Arnold Forster's boat was bracketed by German shells, and he expected one to hit him at any moment. The two MTBs, dodging frantically, made for the Kellett Gut, a passage through the Goodwins too shallow for the destroyer to follow them. They hoped to put Wachsmuth's ship aground but a wreck on the sandbank marked the beginning of the passage, and when the destroyer spotted it she sheered off.

  While Arnold Forster and Law were being chased by the Friedrich Ihn, British gun-boats 43 and 41 suddenly appeared. They had no torpedoes — only an Oerlikon 20-mm gun and two half-inch machine-guns. Stewart Gould and Roger King, hopping mad at having nearly missed the battle, made straight for the Friedrich Ihn at forty-three knots in their 63-foot boats, blazing away with their single Oerlikon guns.

  Senior Officer Stewart Gould said, "When we got within 1,000 yards of the destroyer, her fire was unpleasantly accurate. She had a small turning circle and her manoeuvring made us very uncomfortable." They intended to try and sink the destroyer with their depth-charges but Wachsmuth, taking them for MTBs armed with torpedoes, veered away and steered Friedrich Ihn back towards the battleships. The Luftwaffe also suddenly turned away from the retreating MTBs and circled once again over the battle-fleet.

  At Dover Admiral Ramsay was waiting for the MTBs to return and report. They were to tell him bad news. The first battle of the Straits had been lost.

  Pumphrey in his report said: "I feel a certain uneasiness in the fact that the MTBs engaged at such long range as to avoid danger and casualties. There were undoubtedly two courses open to me when I realized there was no prospect of crossing ahead of the E-boats. My first intention was to attempt to fight through the screen.

  "This plan was abandoned as far as my own boat was concerned when the engines failed. The second alternative was to fire at the range dictated by the E-boat escort and this was what was done.

  "When I signalled 'Out of action — continue,' to the MTBs I expected them to try and pierce the screen.

  "I wish to emphasize that no order was given to them to do so — and
in my opinion they acted correctly. For the choice lay between a slight chance of hitting at long range, coupled with the possibility of avoiding heavy damage to the MTBs, and an almost complete certainty of all boats being destroyed or so damaged as to be unable to fire torpedoes before the range had been appreciably reduced."

  In conclusion, Pumphrey complained about the lack of fighters and the late arrival of the gun-boats saying: "With either, or preferably both, the MTB attack might have been a different story. The only fighters present were Germans, who attacked the MTBs intermittently and in a half-hearted manner."

  VIII

  "POOR FELLOWS… IT IS NOTHING BUT SUICIDE"

  On Wednesday 11 February, while Admiral Ciliax and his Captains in Brest worked on last-minute details of their break-out plan, Lt.-Cdr. Esmonde, leader of the Swordfish squadron at Manston, had an important function to attend. He drove to Margate, caught a train to London and went to Buckingham Palace to receive from King George VI the Distinguished Service Order awarded for his part in the Bismarck operation.

  That evening when he returned to Manston, a small party to celebrate his "gong" was held by the RAF and his own Fleet Air Arm flying crews. The party ended early and soberly for the crews had to be by their aircraft at four o'clock in the morning ready for take-off. This was a routine alert ordered for the pre-dawn danger period, when Admiralty believed the Germans might force the Straits.

  They were "stood down" at dawn on a cold crisp morning with freezing snow swirling over the runways at Manston. In the corner of the field by the Margate Road their six fragile, old-fashioned biplanes shook as their canvas-covered fuselages flapped.

  After breakfast, the most experienced crew was down to lead the first practice torpedo flight. The pilot, Sub-Lt. Brian Rose, had been on the carrier Ark Royal, and his observer, Edgar Lee and his gunner, Leading Airman Ginger Johnson, were both Bismarck veterans.