Aboard the French flagship Phillipe read:
Dear Amiral D’Aubigné,
I am sure that you know better than I the tragedies that have been visited both on France and your fleet at the hands of Germany, as well as Great Britain. Though I do not condone the actions that the British took in 1940, I understand their motives. Freedom and democracy are in grave peril. If liberty, equality, and fraternity are to eventually triumph, it is absolutely necessary to keep Great Britain in the war. Without the British Isles as a staging base to launch the invasion that will free France from the heel of Nazi oppression, it is likely that the current war will be lost.
Should your fleet become available to the forces of evil, it will tip the balance of naval power in the Atlantic against the cause of freedom. Unless the Americas can continue to sustain Britain by sea, she will starve and surrender within months. I know that it is unlikely you and the men under your command will join us in our righteous cause, but I have sent our mutual friend Admiral Hamblen to persuade you to leave Oran for Martinique in the Caribbean. I pledge the United States of America will supply your men with food, fuel, and what else they may need to await a better and more joyous time when you may return to a free and democratic France with honor.
/s/ Franklin Delano Roosevelt
As Phillipe read, John Hamblen noted that he had begun to cry. “Phillipe, what is wrong? Why do you shed tears? My President is absolutely sincere in his offer.”
“John, there are many problems. A year ago I had the fuel to reach Martinique. Now I have neither the fuel nor the supplies. If only the English had offered us such a proposal we would have gladly accepted it, but they chose to insult us and attack us and now it is too late.”
“No, it is not, Phillipe. We knew of your situation. I have tankers and cargo ships in Gibraltar to meet your fleet as it leaves the Mediterranean. The United States Navy will make good on our President’s promise the moment you decide to sail. The only thing you need to concern yourself with is when you wish to hoist anchor.”
“No, John, there is more to this than just America and France.” Phillipe rose and went to his desk where he pulled out Klaus Schröder’s telegram. He handed it to his friend saying, “Your President is not the only person who wishes me to move my fleet.”
Admiral Hamblen sat back in his chair as he thoughtfully read the communiqué. Being able to return to France after nearly two years of exile was a powerful incentive for any group of men particularly men who now found themselves without a country or a government. John knew Phillipe well enough that he would not make these decisions without trying to achieve a consensus of his officers. He noted that the telegram was two days old. His friend and the French officers must have reached a decision already. “What did you decide to do?”
Flight Lieutenant Anthony Pennyman RAF was really a Professor of Paleontology at Cambridge in better times, as he referred to the prewar period. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much interest in old bones by the armed services in wartime. His skills of observation and deductive reasoning however, were valuable in his current employment as a photo interpreter at RAF Benson. It was his job to study the photos that others risked their lives over Germany to acquire and try to divine as much intelligence from them as possible.
Sometimes it was not what was seen but what was not seen that was important, as it had been with the immediate assessment of yesterday’s photos of the Jade estuary. Other photo analysts were responsible for those assessments. Two aircraft carriers, four battle cruisers, four armored cruisers, twelve smaller cruisers and 16 destroyers were missing from the 1800 photographs. They had to be either in the North Sea or have transited the Kiel Canal into the Baltic. The later possibility was beyond the ability of the RAF to determine with their organic assets. It also really did not matter.
The first possibility would result in an all-out effort to locate the missing warships before dusk. Ultimately successful, the fleet would be located off of Stavanger Norway heading north, but not in time for the Royal Navy to catch it or a strike to be organized by the RAF before dark. These ships represented a dire threat to the fate of Great Britain should they breakout into the Atlantic and countermeasures had to be put in place.
Now it was time for Tony to spend time with his magnifying glass, stereographic viewer and his keen intellect to see what else the original photos contained, in comparison to the ones taken of the same location earlier in the week. His near photographic memory was invaluable in that task. The first thing he noticed was that sixteen cargo and transport ships had been moved into the basin at Wilhelmshaven. They had been idle ever since the failed invasion attempt at Pevensey Bay last year. What were they doing? He used the best magnifying glass he had and wiped it carefully before staring at the wharfs adjacent to the transports. The harder he looked the more convinced he became. Tanks!!
“John, until the Commanding Officer of Mogador spoke, the large majority of my officers favored accepting the German admiral’s offer. Destin reminded all of us that service to one’s country can never be subordinate to personal needs or desires. History would rightfully judge us harshly, if we gave in. Our comrades in the Foreign Legion have vowed to fight to the last man to defend the fleet and Algeria. We could not do less.”
“Unfortunately, I received another telegram from the Germans last night that I have not shared with anyone else.” Phillipe rose suddenly looking older, beaten; his shoulders slumped as he walked to his desk and pulled out a second communiqué.
John Hamblen took the telegram from his friend and read it very carefully.
Amiral D’Aubigné,
You have failed to respond to reason. You have failed your men. You have now failed your families. As you read this know that the Gestapo is arresting the families of your officers. Should you not present your fleet intact at the entrance of Toulon Harbor by 0800 on the 26th of May, they will be sent to the slave labor camps in Germany and Poland.
Admiral Schröder
Kriegsmarine
“My God, Phillipe, is there no end to the depravity of our enemy?” Admiral Hamblen suddenly became cold and hard. The steel of a warrior flashed in his eyes as he said, “Phillipe, I have two questions. The first is simple, what can I do to help you? The second is harder, what do you think your officers will say?”
Ammiraglio Romano aboard his flagship Italia led his battle fleet out of Naples Harbor. A flotilla of tugs stood by for assistance as his battleships cleared the Molo of San Vincenzo and proceeded in a column turn to a course of 220o. His destroyers and light cruisers raced ahead to form his screen as the fleet passed Napoli Castel dell’Ovo on the starboard beam. Finally clearing Isola d’Ischia, his fleet navigator took a departure fix on the light at Punta Imperatore on Ischia and the peak of Monte Solaro on Capri. More than most Gugliehno knew that Operation Guardare al Futuro would determine naval supremacy in the Mediterranean for a generation. He had assured Grand’ Ammiragilio Dragonetti that the fleet would not fail.
At the same time, Ammiraglio di Squadra Moretti onboard Aquila was leading his six battle cruisers, light cruisers, destroyers and Italy’s only aircraft carriers Aquila, Sparviero, Pegaso and Falco past Punta San Teresa into the Gulf of LaSpezia. Also initially in a column he turned his carriers and battle cruisers to a course of 200o until they cleared Isola Palmaria where he altered to 223o until he cleared Corsica on his port side. He would remain well west of Sardinia outside the range of British reconnaissance flights from Malta. It would be his privilege to guard against the intervention of Force H while Ammiraglio Romano captured or destroyed the French at Mers el Kébir when the sun rose the morning of May 26th. Those two old battle cruisers and damaged aircraft carriers of Force H would be no match for him. He had a three to one advantage in gunfire where it counted.
“John, I don’t know. It is one thing for honor to demand that we sacrifice ourselves. It is something else for it to demand our families. Before this telegram arrived from the Spanish consulate, we would have gla
dly accepted President Roosevelt’s offer. Now I do not know.”
“Are you going to put it to your officers?”
“Yes, I have scheduled a meeting in Languedoc’s wardroom for 0900. My officers should begin arriving momentarily.”
“May I impose on you with a request to attend the meeting myself?”
“Of course, I hope that you have not forgotten the French you learned when we toured France together with our families in ‘28.”
“Phillipe, don’t worry, I’ll get by. May I send another message to my flagship?”
“But of course, John.”
As Bronco and Barry Jensen climbed away from Argonne, the first thing they noticed was the absence of Force H. Their escort and heavy support was not where they had been briefed it should be.
Bronco was the first to report, “Panther, this is Mustang Zero-One, big friends and airdales not repeat, not present.”
Sheppard heard the report from the speaker that broadcast on the spotting network VHF radio into the conning station. So did Commander Halverson. Sheppard gave Ollie an accusatory stare. All Ollie could do was shrug his shoulders, go to the chart table and look busy.
“French flagship is signaling again, Captain,” Sheppard’s Officer of the Deck reported.
Captain McCloud walked onto the open conning platform, grateful for a distraction to calm his growing concern and anger at being left exposed by the Brits. It would not be long before the Luftwaffe’s and Mussolini’s Regia Aeronautica’s morning searches would be out scouring the Mediterranean for anything new. They may not want to attack and damage the French fleet, hoping to capture it intact, but that did not apply to him. As he looked at the signal light flashing, it was clear that Evan Bryce did not want the French eavesdropping on his message. Sheppard would have to wait until his signalman first class had read and recorded it before he would know what it said.
Sheppard also had a decision to make. He was prohibited from using the radar fuses where a dud might fall into enemy hands. He understood the reason—the technology was just too devastating to allow the axis to use it against Allied aircraft. He would have to stay as close to shore as he could, cruising off Mers el Kébir in order to fire to seaward if search planes were detected. But there, his air search radars were interfered with by the mountains of the western Algeria coast.
The signalman arrived with the message from Admiral Hamblen. Sheppard read it and ordered, “Take this to radio central immediately!” Sheppard turned to his orderly Corporal Westbrook and ordered, “Find the Communications Officer and have him report to radio central on the double!” The absence of the usual niceties shocked Westbrook, not that anyone could tell, but it did make him run and drop down the ship’s ladders sliding only on his hands and arms.
Sheppard did not know what Hamblen had in mind, but the “urgent” was all he needed to make his communications staff move as fast as humanly possible.
Amiral D’Aubigné and Admiral Hamblen walked into the wardroom onboard Languedoc where the assembled French officers rose as they entered. Quickly, Amiral D’Aubigné began the meeting. “Gentlemen, let me introduce a dear friend of mine from the United States—Admiral John Hamblen, former Commander in Chief United States Fleet and current special emissary from President Roosevelt. His arrival this morning was something I am sure you are all aware of. Besides sending us a former head of the United States Navy, President Roosevelt chose to doubly honor us by sending their most famous battle cruiser, the Argonne, still currently commanded by the hero of the Battle of Cape Vilan. She currently cruises off of Mers el Kébir awaiting our decision on President Roosevelt’s offer.”
There were murmurings throughout the crowded wardroom that obviously something had significantly changed since their last meeting. The talking died off quickly as Amiral D’Aubigné frowned at the interruption and waited for silence.
“President Roosevelt has requested that we take the fleet to Martinique in the Caribbean and remain there until the end of the war. He has offered to supply all our needs in fuel and food until we are able to return to France upon liberation. He has even positioned tankers in Gibraltar to replenish what we need to make the journey as soon as we decide to go. I am certain that the gesture of sending my friend Admiral Hamblen is both a sign of respect and of the genuine nature of the offer.”
Contre-Amiral Bertrand stood. “Amiral, I do not understand why you would call this meeting. This seems the answer to our prayers. We get to keep the fleet and return to France with honor and without the English.”
“Yes, Verne, it is a wonderful offer. Unfortunately, it was not the only communiqué that I received today.” With that he read the telegram from the Kriegsmarine Admiral Klaus Schröder delivered by the Spanish consulate only hours before.
There was stunned silence in Languedoc’s wardroom. For several moments not a man spoke as they all thought of their families wasting away to slow horrible deaths in the German slave labor camps.
Finally Capitaine de Vaisseau Fournier stood and spate on the deck. “Boches! What manner of men make war on women and children to blackmail men of honor.” The wardroom rumbled with hate until finally Phillipe raised his hand for quiet.
He began again. “It is clear both from President Roosevelt’s letter and the actions of the Germans that they both assess the situation the same. If our fleet is given to the Germans, they will win the war. If the allies can keep it out of German hands, then perhaps they will achieve victory. So my friends, if we do as the Germans ask, we will be able to live with our families in France but without honor. If we do as Roosevelt asks, we sacrifice our families. I do not see other alternatives.”
Capitaine de Frégate Destin Moreau stood. “Amiral, do you think that this will be the only demand that the Boches make or are they then going to demand we fight against the Allies?”
Deliberately using his first name as a father would talk to a beloved son. “Destin, I do not think for a moment that this will be the last demand they make. They do not know our guns, our ships, or our machinery. They do not have the men to operate our ships. No, they will demand more. If we give in, I for one am convinced that the demands will only grow and having once given in for the sake of my Daphne and my son Étienne, I will have to make a habit of it.” Amiral D’Aubigné sat. The stress of the last few days and the emotion of contemplating the death of his family overcame his professional demeanor and he wept.
Phillipe D’Aubigné was loved and respected by his officers. He had kept them together when France fell. He had defied the English, fought and repaired his fleet. He had found ways to keep them supplied with food and fuel purchased with his own family fortune. It was impossible for John Hamblen to tell whether his weeping or the contents of Schröder’s telegram had affected the French officers more.
The Deputy Assistant Attaché for Intercultural Development at the United States Embassy in Bern Switzerland was alerted to the high priority message being received by the embassy’s communications center. Located in a secure area, it was perhaps the one group of embassy staff personnel that knew Bernie Smith’s real job was with the OSS even if no one knew his real name. When he arrived, Bernie immediately went to his personal safe, to which he alone had the combination, to unlock it. He then pulled out a code book.
As the embassy radiomen recorded the five letter groups of the message, Bernie began to figure out the anagram that would tell him which settings to make for his cryptographic machine. A relatively simple device, it relied more on the one time use of keys than on a complex stepping sequence as naval ciphers did.
When Bernie finished decoding the message he carefully drew a line through the cipher that had been used and replaced the code book in his safe. Spinning the tumbler several times, he left, shredding the message that he had memorized before he left the communications center. Returning to his office he called Martin Lautens, the Swiss merchant that shopped for the Americans in Marseilles to meet their incessant cravings for sea food and placed an order
for squid, bass, and tuna. Martin said he would try but was not hopeful for the bass. Bernie insisted on the bass, letting on that the Ambassador’s wife was pregnant (true) and was craving sea bass. Martin laughed and said he would try hard.
The German Gestapo ScharFührer (Sergeant) listening to the tapped telephone line never suspected anything other than another crazy request from the Americans. They so spoiled their women when they were pregnant. Men that easily manipulated by their wives would never win the war.
Admiral Hamblen knew that the meeting was at a critical point. He had followed the discussion in French as best he could, but what wording he missed was reasonably clear to him from universal human expressions. Languedoc’s wardroom had fallen silent when he decided to try and speak.
“My friends, I cannot think of the right words to say and excuse me if I say something wrong. I can only think of the pain this message has brought you. It is clear to me that if not for this telegram; you would have decided to say yes to my President’s offer. The swine Schröder has given you till the morning of the twenty-sixth. Please let me see what I and my country can do to help you between now and then.”
Charles Fournier of the Aquitaine interrupted, rapidly exclaiming, “What could you possibly do to help us? Our families are as good as dead unless we take our ships to the Germans.”
Admiral Hamblen wasn’t sure what he said but answered, “I have all the things that my country has at my use. I only ask you let me try to help.”
John Hamblen had not noticed that Phillipe D’Aubigné had recovered his composure, stood, and moved behind him. He put a hand on John’s shoulder and said in English, “My friend, let me convince them.”
Sheppard and the French Rescue Page 12