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  Another Wellington squadron, 241, stationed at Stradishall, had even worse luck. Heavy snow had delayed flying operations for a week, but as the snowstorms had abated they were warned on Thursday to be ready to bomb German targets that night. While they were preparing for this night operation, orders were received, "Carry out Fuller."

  At 2:45 p.m., twelve Wellingtons headed towards the Dutch coast with cloud down to 500 feet. Formation-keeping was almost impossible and only one pilot saw what he believed to be German ships. He went down to 1,000 feet and dropped six 500-lb. bombs but observed no results.

  Another Wellington, flying at 300 feet under the thick cloud, saw the white wake of a ship. As it turned to pursue, a Messerschmitt came out of the clouds, its machine-guns spitting. The rear-gunner opened fire on the German and in the dog-fight both planes dived into cloud. The Messerschmitt vanished so the Wellington criss-crossed the area but could not find the ship's wake again. Most of the Wellingtons brought their bombs back. Their pilots reported, "Nothing seen after prolonged search; and returned to base with all bombs."

  One failed to return. Aboard her were the senior officers of the squadron including its commander, Wing-Cdr. Macfadden with Sq. Ldr. Stephens and Flt.-Lt. Hughes. After they radioed that they were having engine trouble there was silence. The 241 logbook said, "The squadron had a very unsuccessful day and lost the Commanding Officer."

  The Blenheim bomber squadrons had the same experience — a last-minute take-off in thick weather and a futile search for the battleships. In their case, the hazards were increased because some of the aircrew had not flown operationally before.

  The experience of dark-haired, stocky Flt.-Sgt. Tom Berjeman, a pilot with 110 Squadron of Blenheims, stationed at Wattisham, Suffolk, was similar to the experiences and frustrations of several hundred bomber pilots.

  Like most bomber crews, they had been on stand-by for a week, taking their meals in the crew room in flying kit. They knew "something big" was in the air but they were not told what it was. Just after 11:30 a.m., they were called into the briefing hut by their squadron leader, who informed them that the Scharnhorst and Gneisenau had broken out and told them: "Get cracking. This is what we have been standing by for."

  Bristol Blenheim

  Betjeman, who had a fruit shop in Caterham, Surrey, before he joined up, was on his first operation after coming out of flying school. He led a typical wartime bomber crew. His navigator was a former New Zealand clerk named Noel Colyton and his 21-year-old ginger-haired gunner, Jackie Turner, was an apprentice draughtsman from Manchester.

  On the airfield, ready loaded with two 500-pound bombs and two 250-pounders, was his Blenheim. As he climbed in, the armaments officer warned Betjeman that the bombs were set for eleven seconds delay. He said, "Though conditions give 500 feet cloud don't dip below it to bomb — or you will blow your bloody selves up!"

  For night operations against the Norwegian coast the bombers were painted black. Every one of them was very conscious that in daylight they would be an easy target when outlined against the grey clouds.

  "Also the weather was terrible," recalls Betjeman. "It was the stickiest day I have ever seen. There were misty flying conditions and visibility was not more than three to four hundred feet."

  They took off in four flights of three. As Betjeman in the last three taxied into the runway, the other two planes in his flight went out of action with engine trouble. Flight Control ordered him not to take off alone. They kept calling him, but as he had switched off his radio telephone he did not hear them, and he took off into the low cloud.

  He flew by dead reckoning just above the waves over a fairly calm sea. Although his navigator Colyton warned, "Remember the Met. report gave icing conditions above 400 feet," Betjeman decided to take a chance and climb into the cloud when they reached the target area. After about fifteen seconds, Air-Gunner Turner came through on the intercom to say, "Lumps of ice are hitting my rear turret from the prop, Tom."

  This meant he must immediately descend to a warmer temperature. Coming; down iced-up through thick cloud was very tricky for an inexperienced pilot like Betjeman. It would have been easy to panic, but he put her nose down very gently, and fortunately, as they came nearer sea level, the ice quickly melted. They "stooged around" searching for the battleships but could not see anything except mist. Realizing their task was hopeless they turned for home.

  Flying Officer Norman, Nicholas was also on his first operational flight as the navigator of another Blenheim. On the third leg of a square search over the estimated position, he sighted six warships through a break in the clouds. Still trying to identify them positively as the German battleships, he directed the captain, Pilot Officer Hedley, towards them on a bombing run. As flak shells began to burst around them the air-gunner shouted, "My machine-guns aren't working!"

  Nicholas was determined to try and hit the German ships. but he failed to get a reasonable aim with his bombsight so he called, "Dummy-run!" to the pilot. When they turned for a second run the clouds had closed in, and they could not see the ships anywhere. As they circled round searching, the air-gunner still could not get his guns to fire. They were defenceless against German fighters, so Hedley decided to return to base. As they flew back, Nicholas bitterly regretted not having taken a chance and released his bombs on the first run.

  Most of the squadrons had a similar experience, or like Betjeman and his crew they returned having seen nothing. Out of the thirty-nine who claimed to have located the battleships, none dropped a bomb which did any damage. The others brought their bombs back or jettisoned them when attacked by German fighters. Fifteen bombers were lost. It was estimated that as many losses were due to flying too near the waves as from German attacks. The Germans lost seventeen aircraft.[6]

  In addition to the bombers, every available plane in Fighter Command flew several sorties that day. Although 600 were available on paper, only 398 took off to attack the Germans. Seventeen of them were shot down. Altogether, with the 242 bombers and 35 Coastal Command Hudsons and Beauforts — of which five were lost—675 aircraft took off to attack the German battleships.

  No one can blame their aircrews for the failure of this massive attack. The bomber crews who found the ships attacked with lonely heroism on that grey winter's afternoon. In the late afternoon one solitary Wellington shot out of the clouds in thick weather right over Prinz Eugen at 400 feet and flew through a hail of flak which practically ripped off her tail unit. As she dived over the destroyer Hermann Schoemann and dropped her bombs, she was badly hit and crashed into the sea. The German crews watched her burn with a long sheet of flame rising from the water.

  This was just one of the bombers which did not return. No one knows who the pilot was but he upheld the honour of the RAF His attack was as courageously carried out as Esmonde's and his Swordfish. He too deserved the VC.

  Ciliax recognized the gallantry of the RAF when he reported: "From about 12:45 until 6:30 p.m. massed and individual air attacks from planes of all types. Impressions: Dogged aggressive spirit, very plucky flying, great powers of resistance against light flak hits."

  He explained the lack of success of the attacks like this: "The British were surprised, which led at the beginning to somewhat desultory and precipitate actions by their forces. During a period spanning one and a half hours after the first attack, no English aircraft succeeded in reaching the Squadron due to our excellent fighter cover. Not until our own fighter cover was badly handicapped by the increasing deterioration in the weather did the enemy aircraft succeed in penetrating to the ships."

  Adolf Galland paid this tribute to the RAF "Their pilots fought bravely, tenaciously and untiringly, but they were sent into action with insufficient planning, without a clear concept of the attack, without a centre of gravity and without systematic tactics."

  X

  THE GALLANT LITTLE WORCESTER

  The British destroyer Walpole, steaming slowly on the edge of the minefield while engineers tried to patch
up her main bearing, was an easy but ambiguous target. She had a canvas roundel with the RAF sign on the fo'c'sle, but it was hard to see from the air as it was very misty with low cloud and only two or three miles visibility.

  Suddenly two RAF Wellingtons swooped out of the grey clouds and dropped bombs near Walpole. On their tails, a formation of Messerschmitts came roaring down the port side and chased off the Wellingtons. Tensely, the Walpole crew stood by their guns. They refrained from firing at their unusual escort of German fighters, who returned to circle diligently over the British destroyer when they had chased away the Wellingtons.

  It was then they must have recognized the red, white and blue roundel. They were so obviously embarrassed by the discovery that they only fired a few token machine-gun bursts before, as one rating expressed it, "They poked off into the glue."

  Her engineers having managed to repair temporarily her engines, Walpole began to move slowly through the water. She was not attacked again. She made Harwich in three hours at slow speed to meet the Hunt Class destroyers waiting on the other side of the minefields to escort her in.

  At 2:45 p.m., when Pizey's other five destroyers were steaming at full speed, line ahead, a plane appeared from a cloud. As it approached, the gun crews trained their guns until orders were passed to them: "Friendly aircraft ahead." It was a Hampden. When the bomber dived in low between Mackay and Worcester, their look-outs switched their attention to the sky for German aircraft, knowing she was friendly.

  Suddenly an officer on the Mackay s bridge shouted, "The Hampden has let go bombs," At the same time Pizey muttered, "Hell, we've made a mistake!" As he said it, bombs exploded astern of Mackay drenching the after gun crews with spray. Her gunnery officer, afraid the A.A. crews would open fire, shouted over their telephone system, "Check, check, check. Do not open fire. Repeat. Do not open fire." He added, "This aircraft is friendly although he has a funny way of showing it." But as they saw the bombs dropping, some of the destroyers too far away to identify it opened fire.

  The Hampden was not finished yet. She turned and came in low again, this time over Worcester, straddling her with bombs. Watching the attack aboard Campbell, Pizey muttered, "It looks like a Hampden — but it can't be!"

  Handley-Page Hampden

  "Doc" Jackson was sitting in Worcester's sick-bay trying to take his mind off the coming action by reading an article in a medical journal on the care of sick children, when he heard the bomb explosions rattling the ship's side. He raced on deck just in time to see more bombs falling between his ship and the destroyer Mackay. One of them sent spray over the bridge and Coats signalled to Pizey he was about to open fire. The reply winked back hastily: "Don't do it. It really is a British plane." As the plane disappeared into the dark low-lying clouds, the destroyers' A.A. gun-layers plainly saw the RAF roundels on its wings.

  But these two episodes were only the curtain raiser to a giant mix-up in the air. As the five destroyers emerged from the minefield, they were attacked indiscriminately by both German and British plaines. Flying in and out of low cloud together were ME 109s and Beauforts. Higher up in the clouds, flying wing to wing with Hampdens, were Dorniers and ME 110s. Still higher, Heinkels and JU-88s flew next to Wellingtons, Halifaxes and Manchesters, with Spitfires darting between them. Many British aircraft took their own destroyers for German, and on several occasions destroyers opened fire on Wellingtons and Hampdens before they were recognized as belonging to the RAE

  When Pizey and Wright saw the great mass of aircraft overhead, they wished the Hunt Class destroyers had been fast enough to accompany them, for their 4-inch guns could have done considerable damage. As it was, the five destroyers fired their 3-inch A.A. guns and machine-guns at the German aircraft.

  The weather grew increasingly bad. It was blowing hard with a heavy westward swell and waves were breaking over the gun crews as they stood at their posts. Visibility suddenly decreased from seven to four miles, which was a relief to the destroyer captains since it would help to mask their attack.

  They had two pieces of good fortune. One was the mine which stopped Scharnhorst and slowed her down, thus keeping her out of the destroyer action. The other was Campbell's up-to-date radar. Three weeks before being ordered to Harwich, Campbell was refitting in Chatham. Originally, she was fitted with a fixed aerial type of radar with a range of 4,000 yards, which could only pick up ahead. While they were refitting, Captain Pizey inspected a 271 set which was due to be fitted to another ship. This was not only a more powerful radar with a range of twelve miles, but was a rotating set which meant it could pick up objects in any direction. As the ship for which it was intended was not ready to receive it, Captain Pizey persuaded the dockyard superintendent to get Admiralty approval to let him have it. This radar then replaced the 4.7 gun director on the back of the bridge. It had to be installed in such a hurry that electricians were still aboard putting the finishing touches to it as Campbell sailed from Chatham to Sheerness. A leading telegraphist aboard Campbell was an enthusiast about radar. It was only his knowledge that enabled them to make it work quickly.

  At 3:17 p.m., when the destroyers were twenty-two miles from the Hook of Holland, this new radar performed perfectly. Two large "blips" began to show on the screen, indicating ships nine and a half miles away. As they went full ahead, the sea became even rougher and the destroyer decks were awash with big waves. Then a look-out shouted "Gun flashes ahead!" This was the German battleships firing at RAF planes. It was just after 3:30 p.m.

  On the starboard bow, Campbells bridge officers saw gunfire flickering through the grey curtain of cloud on the horizon. Through binoculars, the German ships could be seen as black blobs silhouetted against the darkening sky. They were steaming fast four miles away on a course converging very slightly with their own.

  The cry came, "Enemy in sight!" and Campbell hoisted her battle ensign on the yard-arm. Through mist and rising spray they could see the big White Ensign battle flags sprouting on the masts of the other destroyers.

  Aboard Whitshed the bosun's mate commented, "Isn't it glorious to see the battle flag flying!" His views were shared by many young wartime ratings who had never seen action before. It was indeed an inspiring historic sight — five old British destroyers thumping and rolling as they steamed through the mounting waves to attack the pride of the German Navy. They did not know then that Scharnhorst was out of range.

  At 3:42 p.m., amid gun flashes and A.A. tracer, the German warships could be clearly seen in line ahead from Campbells bridge. They were now so near that many of the German aircraft flying over them thought the approaching British destroyers were friendly and fired off their recognition signal — four balls in the shape of a diamond.

  Aboard Worcester, gun-layer Douglas Ward peered through his telescopic sights, and saw one German battleship looming very large. Within a short time she became so clear that he did not need his optical viewer. He could see her quite plainly over open sights.

  With RAF bombers diving on them and Spitfires and Messerschmitts batding overhead, the German commanders were so worried about the aerial threat that Captain Fein now commanding the squadron aboard the leading ship, Gneisenau, was unaware the British destroyers were approaching at high speed.

  At 3:45 p.m., standing on the bridge of Gneisenau, he saw shells bursting near with the greenish-yellow smoke typical of British ammunition. For a moment he was uncertain what was going on, but suddenly a look-out shouted, "Enemy in sight on port bowl" As a line of grey silhouettes came steaming out of the mist, Fein ordered his gunnery officer Kahler to open fire. He also radioed Group North at Kiel: "Am in action with enemy destroyers."

  But was the destroyer attack a feint? He ordered the German destroyers forward to see if there were any bigger ships waiting to attack as soon as he went into battle against Pizey's destroyers. He also ordered his own ship and the Prinz Eugen to zigzag. This was mainly because the RAF were delivering a fierce attack on Prinz Eugen, whose flak guns were blazing away at the planes divi
ng on her. The attack was so intense that Commander Paulus Jasper, her gunnery officer, had gone himself to the main flak position to direct operations.

  At 3:43 p.m. the operational telephone rang from the bridge warning him that British destroyers were approaching on the port side at top speed. He ran to the fbretop and gave the preliminary order to the big guns: "Prepare to open fire." Then Jasper made out a line of shadowy shapes which he took to be four destroyers.

  At the same time, Senior Midshipman Bohsehke, in charge of the forward heavy gun position, saw four British destroyers steaming from the stern on a parallel course. Campbell came on with flashes coming from all her guns, and Bohsehke and Petty Officer Gustav Kuhn tried to identify her. Both thought Campbell had such a high superstructure that she was probably a cruiser. Commander Jasper thought she had three funnels.

  Then British destroyer shells began to explode around Prinz Eugen, their red-hot shrapnel hissing into the water. As Campbell ran parallel to Prinz Eugen at full speed, Bohsehke managed to get a "fix" on her. When Jasper gave the order, there was a tremendous flash and crash as Bohsehke opened fire with a full 8-inch salvo. As the big shells burst around her, Campbell still came on, taking advantage of the smoke screen laid down by the German escort vessels.

  There came a series of further blinding flashes as the Gneisenau began to fire her big 11-inch guns as well as the 5.9s of her secondary armament, which alone were big enough to deal with the destroyers.

  At the same time, Captain Brinkmann of Prinz Eugen signalled, "Am in action with cruisers and destroyers." An action signal of this nature is always given top priority in any navy. But in this case there was such confusion in her signal room that it was not transmitted. Signals were in the hands of a first lieutenant assisted by a midshipman, neither of whom were very experienced. During the voyage, the signals room dealt with 800 messages, but there was such trouble decoding that important messages were reaching the bridge hours late. As a result of this, German Admiralty did not know Prinz Eugen was in action.