Breakout Page 14

  Suddenly, through the mist, his observer "Mac" Samples caught a glimpse of a big ship which he thought was the Prinz Eugen. They staggered forward over the battle-fleet screen with everything coming up at them. It all seemed so unreal that they became almost detached. They watched the shells and bullets ripping through their wings as if it was happening to somebody else.

  A group of Focke-Wolfes swooped on Kingsmill's plane. Bunce had never seen one before. When the first one dived on their Swordfish, he was uncertain whether it was one of theirs. He shouted through the voice pipe, "What's this? Shall I fire at it?" Samples shouted back, "Fire at any bloody thing!"

  He was facing backwards so he could direct his pilot away from the planes diving on their tail. Both Bunce and Samples stood up screaming "Bugger off, you bastards!" at the German planes. This was an automatic reaction to conquer their fear. They also shook their fists and made rude two-fingered gestures.

  Then a cannon shell hit the fuselage between Kingsmill. and his observer and exploded, wounding Samples. Bunce saw the pilot and the observer covered in blood, which began running over the plane. He continued firing and "Mac" Samples still kept telling Kingsmill to try and dodge the attacking German aircraft — but he was too busy concentrating on the Prinz Eugen.

  Kingsmill remembers, "The tracer came floating gently towards us and then whizzed past. There were more and more large splotches in the sea as aircraft and ships fired at us and their shells burst into the waves. We were really in it now. Suddenly, I felt a sharp pain in my shoulder and my foot went squelchy. Oddly enough I didn't feel any more pain and managed to keep control of the plane. Samples got hit in the legs at the same time but Gunner Donald Bunce was unhurt. The sea was rough and I was not certain that my torpedo would run properly. I chugged along at fifty feet but could not at first get close enough to drop it."

  Kingsmill turned back to make another run across the intense flak sent up by the destroyer screen. As he flew once again towards Prinz Eugen, the German gun crews in sleek black anti-flash overalls continued to fire everything they had at him. To Schmalenbach and his gunners Kingsmill's Sword-fish was coming unbelievably slowly — but it was still flying.

  Samples felt a burning sensation in his leg and when he looked down at his black flying boots he was astonished to see that in one there was a neat pattern like buttonholes. It was only when blood started spurting out of them that he realized he had been hit by machine-gun bullets. He felt no pain— only surprised interest. Gazing at his leg drilled with holes, he did not notice Kingsmill drop his torpedo aimed at Prinz Eugen from 2,000 yards.

  As Kingsmill's Swordfish, torn and shaken by flak, veered back once again over the destroyers, a shell sliced off the tops of two of the three cylinders of his engine, leaving him with hardly any power. He pulled the stick back, "hanging on to the prop" to keep her aloft. With her fabric tattered like an old blanket, the plane began gradually sinking towards the water, when the engine burst into flames and the port wing caught fire. Both Kingsmill and Samples were wounded, but they were still in control and Bunce kept firing and screaming insults at the Germans. Kingsmill tried to shout to Samples through the voice pipe, not knowing it was shattered, to say he going to try and bring her back to base. Covered in blood, Samples managed to climb towards him and shout into his ear, "We will never do it. Try and ditch near those friendly MTBs."

  He pointed to Pumphrey's MTBs, who were still in the area. Watching Esmonde's gallant Swordfish coming in wave-high, the MTBs realized that most of them would be shot down and the aircrews might need help if they ditched. So they cruised around out of range waiting to see what happened. The E-boats were also near. Kingsmill still kept his aircraft under control although she seemed to move as slowly as if flying through glue. As he staggered over the last E-boat, his engine finally died and he came down towards the sea.

  Weaving a little above wave level, Sq. Ldr. Kingcombe watched Esmonde and his Swordfish attacking in two "vics" of three. He said, "I went down to 100 feet, clipping the bottom of the clouds, and we managed to keep most of the German fighters off them. The Germans were firing heavy guns which threw up great mountains of spray like water spouts. The Swordfish flew straight into them. Mostly they were caught by the Prinz Eugens flak and I saw the leader and two others go into the drink. They caught fire and went diving in flames towards the water. By this time the FW 190s were swarming everywhere. I saw one go down after 1 had given him a burst. I claimed him, but unfortunately in the sudden "scramble" 1 had forgotten to take the cover off my camera — so I could not prove it. By this time it seemed as though there were a hundred fighters, both RAF and Luftwaffe, in the air."

  While the Swordfish crews were dying so heroically and uselessly, Brian Kingcombe's ten Spitfires equally courageously tried to prevent their massacre. Although they were jumped by dozens of German fighters, they gave an extremely good account of themselves. They had numerous dog-fights with Messerschmitts and Focke-Wolfes at odds of three-to-one.

  Pilot Officer Ingham, Pilot Officer Bocock and Pilot Officer de Naeyer dived on some FW 190s, whose tracer was hitting one of the Swordfish. Her petrol tank blew up and the Swordfish disappeared before they could stop the attack, but Ingham managed to get one FW 190 in his sights and give it a long burst. It hit the sea trailing black smoke.

  Pilot Officer Rutherford was flying at sea level when he saw the Swordfish turn to attack the Prinz Eugen. Skimming the waves, four FW 190s flew beneath the Spitfires followed by eight more in a "gaggle." In the all-out fight which ensued Rutherford made a head-on attack on an FW 190 which was coming straight towards him. He roared to within fifty yards and hit the FW's engine, cowling and wings.

  As the German plane lurched towards the water, three other FW 190s swooped on Rutherford, cannons firing. Ducking and weaving to avoid them he climbed into the low clouds. When he came out again he had lost the FWs — and also his own squadron. He came down to sea level to see patches of oil 300 yards away from where the first FW 190 had crashed into the sea. Near the oil he saw two men, clinging to a half-submerged dinghy. They were Brian Rose and Edgar Lee. At minute intervals, he made three "Mayday" signals to summon help for them.

  Kingsmill's burning plane, with the engine shot away, glided silently towards the water. The crew saw the second flight of three Swordfish, led by Sub-Lt. Thompson, approaching the Prinz Eugen at 100 feet, and Kingsmill, unable to gain height, flew underneath them. This was the last time anyone saw these three planes.

  Thompson's three Swordfish limped on, their fuselages tattered canvas ribbons, their crews wounded or dying. Still maintaining a steady course, they flew into the red and orange wall of exploding shells. The three Swordfish with their nine young aircrew were never seen again. One after another, they were blown to pieces. Not a trace of any was ever found.

  As Kingsmill's Swordfish, with blood dripping through rips in the fuselage, came down to ditch near a couple of boats which Samples had thought were MTBs, they opened fire. They were German E-boats. Samples paid for his mistake by receiving a bullet in his bottom, but Kingsmill managed to turn his plane away and land down near some small British ships which were coming towards them. Kingsmill recalls, "I managed to put her down in what I now immodestly claim was a perfect landing. It was very choppy with quite big waves, but I felt no feeling of cold at all."

  Wearing their yellow life-jackets, they tried to haul themselves out of the cockpits. Kingsmill and Bunce jumped into the sea because their dinghy had been destroyed in the burning wing, but Samples went down with the plane. He had forgotten he had a G-string hooked between his legs to prevent his falling out when the plane rolled and turned. It dragged him down with the plane and, half-drowning, he fumbled to free himself. It seemed like hours, although it only took a few seconds before he managed to untie himself and float exhausted to the surface.

  From the German battleships, the brave Fleet Air Arm fliers seemed like far-away dots. The ships saw their torpedoes running but swung away and al
l of them missed. From the bridge of Scharnhorst, German fighters were seen shooting at two Swordfish which dived on Prinz Eugen. Gneisenau could be seen zigzagging and shooting down Thompson's flight of three.

  As he watched the tiny smoking specks falling into the sea through his binoculars, Captain Hoffmann muttered, "Poor fellows. They are so very slow. It is nothing but suicide for them to fly against these big ships."

  Everyone on the battleships' bridges felt the same. As they watched the forlorn attack, the English coastline could be dimly and intermittentily seen from the German ships. Aboard Scharnhorst Wilhelm Wolf, watching the flames of the fleet's flak guns, thought: "What an heroic stage for them to meet their end on. Behind them, their purpose, is still in view."

  Navigator Giessler said, "Such bravery was devoted and incredible. One was privileged to witness it. Although they were shot down by our anti-aircraft fire before they could get into position to release their loads, they knowingly and ungrudgingly gave their all to their country and went to their doom without hesitation."

  The heroic, incredible, Swordfish attack was over. As the last of the six torpedo planes blew up and splashed into the sea, the German fighters gave a victory roll over the ships before resuming their patrol. It was 12:45 p.m. They had only taken off twenty minutes before. The Germans could not believe it was finished. Prinz Eugens flak commander Schmalenbach said, "We expected them to be the first wave of a massive attack by hundreds of planes and my gunners waited tensely for it to happen. But nothing else came."

  There were only five survivors out of eighteen who had flown into the hail of fire. Brian Rose and Edgar Lee were crouched in their dinghy shivering from the freezing spray. With stiff fingers, Lee managed to fire a rocket, but when they saw an MTB approaching he was convinced it was a German boat. Then they heard English voices, and one of Hilary Gamble's MTB crew jumped overboard into the icy sea and tied the dinghy alongside their boat, while other sailors swarmed down to lift up the airmen. A few minutes later Rose was wrapped in a blanket and Lee, wearing a towel, was sipping the one drink he detests — rum.

  A mine-sweeper saw KingsmiU's crew crash and raced over to them. They threw down a rope climbing net from the deck. When Bunce was trying to push Samples, who was badly wounded, on to the net, someone called out from the ship, "If you're all right, sailor, climb aboard and leave him to us!" As he began to climb up, several of the ship's crew dived into the water and began hauling Kingsmill and Samples up the net.

  They dragged Samples up last. When they laid him on deck Kingsmill and Bunce were already below in the rolling ship. He was shivering with cold and shock. There was no more room below for him and they had no more blankets. To prevent him dying of exposure, a big sailor lay on top of him to try and warm him up. The sea was very choppy and every now and again as the boat gave a lurch he said politely to Samples, "Excuse me, sir, I am not used to these small ships. I have always served on bigger ships." He kept leaving the shivering observer to stagger to the side and vomit violently. Then he would come back and lie on him again. Samples began to dread his return; the smell of vomit was worse than the cold and his wounds.

  Samples recalls, "I was very upset about my shivering. I was only 23 and thought it would look as if I were frightened. But I will never forget the most pleasurable experience of my life. When I got to Ramsgate they put a semi-circular cage with a radiant heater over the lower half of my body in hospital. I stopped shaking like a leaf when the warmth and feeling came back. It was a sensation that has never been equalled. Being so young I was terribly embarrassed when they tended to my wounds, and nurses stood by whilst doctors picked the German E-boat shrapnel out of my bottom."

  While Esmonde's Swordfish and Kingcombe's Spitfires were giving the Germans their first real taste of opposition, where were the rest of the RAF fighters? The other four squadrons— two from Biggin Hill and two from Hornchurch — either took off too late or lost their way in the mist. When those Spitfire squadrons finally arrived, it was nearly 1 p.m. and the Swordfish battle was already over.

  Two Spitfire squadrons from Hornchurch—64 and the 411 Canadian — were ordered to rendezvous with the Swordfish at 12:30 p.m. But 64 Squadron did not arrive over Manston until 12:45 p.m. to find the Swordfish gone. Ten aircraft set course for Calais, patrolled for a short time but saw nothing and flew back to their base in Essex.

  The Canadian 411 Squadron, led by Sq. Ldr. R. B. Newton and Wing-Cdr. Powell, found the battleships after the Sword-fish had been shot down and were fired upon by flak ships, but did not engage in any other action.

  The other two Biggin Hill squadrons of twenty-six fighters who were supposed to join Kingcombe's ten Spitfires in keeping the German fighters off the Swordfish were also a vital quarter of an hour late. When they climbed to attack the Luftwaffe umbrella, the Swordfish had already been shot down.

  One of them, the 401 Canadian Squadron, reached the ships at 1 p.m. German fighters tore towards them, and Pilot Officer Ian Ormston shot down one ME and damaged another.

  Biggin Hill's third squadron, 124, although airborne at 12:20, also missed the Swordfish but had dog-fights over the Channel with the Luftwaffe.

  The squadrons behaved with great bravery, but their attacks made no difference to the outcome of the Swordfish battle. They had missed the Swordfish through a combination of inefficient ground work and bad weather, causing them to lose their way.

  Kingcombe's 72 Spitfire Squadron's log entry said, "First big offensive of the year. Ten Spitfires at 12:18 escorted six Swordfish in an attack on the Scharnhorst, escorted by light craft, in the Straits of Dover. 72 Squadron's score was the largest of any squadron."

  As the Spitfires turned back to England to refuel, the five Swordfish survivors rescued from the sea were being taken back to Dover and Ramsgate.

  The only uninjured survivors were observer Edgar Lee and Gunner Donald Bunce. Edgar Lee was ordered to report personally to Admiral Ramsay who signalled the Admiralty, "In my opinion the gallant sortie of these six Swordfish constitutes one of the finest exhibitions of self-sacrifice and devotion that the war has yet witnessed."

  Shortly after the Swordfish attack, three more MTBs under Lt. D. J. Long left Ransgate to intercept the battleships. It was an unsatisfactory engagement on both sides. Due to bad weather and engine trouble none of the three boats found the ships. Long fought a battle with the E-boats and the destroyer Friedrich Ihn, who chased him off — but not fiercely enough. Friedrich Ihn's captain, Lt. Cdr. Wachsmuth, was criticized for not pursuing Long's boats more vigorously.

  The destroyer flotilla's report said, "The destroyer Friedrich Ihn brought on itself the fire of the English coastal artillery and switched the attention of the batteries from the big ships by drawing their fire. Friedrich Ihn carried out the task allotted to her by fighting off the English MTBs with great success. As a result the British MTBs did not succeed in reaching the German battleships. However, it is incomprehensible that at 2:18 p.m. the destroyer did not successfully attack the two English MTBs coming towards her. This would have been the right thing to do."

  Now the Germans were through the Straits unscathed, and were beginning to run up the Belgian coast. All of them had the feeling that, far from the battle being over, it had hardly begun.

  The Admiralty had flung six old Fleet Air Arm biplanes in a doomed attack on the ships. Surely now the greatest battle-fleet in western waters was racing to sink them? In fact, all there was in the Home Fleet base at Scapa Flow that day were the new battleship Duke of York and the three heavy cruisers, London, Sheffield and Liverpool. At sea in the area were aircraft-carrier Victorious and heavy cruisers Berwick, Shropshire and Kenya. Together they could have made an annihilating attack. Instead, they remained aloof while the Royal Navy launched its last attack against the German battleships. It was to be made by Pizey's six 20-year-old destroyers.

  The RAF had not really entered the battle yet. At 2:30 p.m., nearly 700 bombers and fighters were beginning to take off from airf
ields all over Britain for a massed air attack. Unfortunately, because of the confusion, they were taking off piecemeal.

  Meanwhile, Admiral Ramsay was sitting on the navigating counter in Dover Operations Room swinging his legs when the phone rang for him. He kept saying, "Yes sir, no sir." He put down the phone and said, "That was the Prime Minister. He wanted to know how they had managed to get through."

  Flt.-Lt. Gerald Kidd, who had been called in from Swingate Radar Station said, "I could tell him why. It was simply due to the fact that there was no forethought, no co-ordination whatsoever. I am going to write a report on it. I don't care if I am court-martialled." Ramsay paused for a moment and then said, "Go ahead. Somebody must say so."

  When Churchill telephoned Dover Castle, Nora Smith with the rest of the afiternoon shift had already started tracing the battleship plots for future reference. She made two copies which later were shown to important visitors. Churchill was to be one of them.

  IX

  ADMIRAL CILIAX LEAVES HIS FLAGSHIP

  February 11 was the last night of the stand-to for the six destroyers in Harwich. On the morning of the 12th, the operation was to be abandoned and the destroyers were to return to Sheerness. Looking at the charts on that evening Pizey said, "As tomorrow's the last day, I've got the Commodore's agreement to go out at 6 a.m., to exercise the ships in pairs in the wide swept Channel." In fact, he admits that at the back of his mind was the thought they might be more useful at sea if the Germans did come through. As the captains of the six destroyers met for the last time in Harwich harbour, it looked to them as though the alert was all over. Four hundred miles away in Brest, Admiral Ciliax and his captains were ready to cast off within three hours.

  On 12 February, when the six destroyers slipped their cables and began to head out of Harwich harbour before dawn, it was the start of a cold misty winter's day. It was barely light when Campbell, with Captain Mark Pizey and his navigator, Lt. Tony Fanning, on the bridge with him, cleared the boom. Strung out behind them were Vivacious, Worcester and Walpole, followed by the 16th flotilla leader, Mackay, with Whitshed. They were accompanied by six Hunt Class destroyers with 4-inch A.A. guns to protect them from German aircraft while they exercised.