“I am Commandant César, I am glad to make your acquaintance. Do you have boats to start moving the naval families to your ship?”
Morris turned to his Marines. “Bring the gear ashore. Call in the platoons immediately.” Turning back to this tall Frenchman with the small hands he said, “Is there trouble?”
Before Émile could answer, two brilliant shafts of light originating from Argonne stabbed the night to the east.
Chuck Williamson had reported, “Tracking skunks ‘Peter’ and ‘Queen’ range one five oh double oh yards.” Sheppard did not want to let them close within torpedo range if they were S-boats. He also did not want to give away the element of surprise if the boats turned back to Toulon at the end of a patrol pattern. He would wait as Chuck called off the closing ranges—“one-three thousand”; “one-two thousand”; “one-one thousand.” Sheppard could wait no longer these two contacts were not turning away. He had no choice but to protect Argonne and his mission.
“Guns, Captain, illuminate!” The shutters for the searchlights snapped open and binoculars, spotting glasses, turret periscopes and telescopic sights all confirmed that the two contacts were German Schnellboote.
“Commence Firing!”
Now Argonne’s port side erupted as the 6-inch turrets and 5-inch mounts all fired in response to Chuck’s order. “Fire continuous, master key.” The loaders raced, as did the handling room crews to feed the guns as quickly as possible.
From the moment the blinding lights hit them, Kapitänleutnant Gerhard Hayner and Oberleutnant zur See Dietrich Werden had less than a minute to live. They could see nothing but the carbon arcs and were stunned into inactivity. Marineoberkommando Süd would claim that they had boldly attacked a superior enemy force. Launching their torpedoes in a desperate bid to prevent the escape of French saboteurs and avenge the deaths of loyal German soldiers. The citations were all lies. Neither S-49 nor S-52 fired a gun or launched a torpedo before Argonne’s shells tore the two boats apart. Both boats sank in under 30 seconds. There were no survivors to tell the truth about what happened.
It could be said that they accomplished their mission. Alarm klaxons rang out along the entire south coast of France. Every German soldier and sailor in the maritime provinces of France was alerted to the presence of a powerful ship with numerous heavy guns. The operable coast defense batteries were manned and guns began searching for a target.
“Cease Firing, Break Arcs!” were Sheppard’s immediate orders; when he saw that further gunfire was unnecessary. The lights instantly were extinguished. Two additional salvos were yet to land, but the only thing they accomplished was to rearrange the wreckage—and the dead.
Admiral Hamblen and Commander Halverson had had enough of being by themselves on the flag bridge and quickly arrived on the conning station. Admiral Hamblen going directly to Sheppard’s chair.
“Captain, what has happened?”
“Admiral, I am sorry for not informing you, there was no time. Two German S-Boats were rounding the point and within torpedo range. I had no choice but to destroy them.”
“I understand. If you don’t mind, Commander Halverson and I will stay up here with you. It will be easier for us to keep informed and make suggestions.”
“Certainly, Admiral,” was all Sheppard could say, thinking again how much he hated being on a flagship.
Émile turned to Morris with a slight smile, “It appears there is trouble,” he said in response to Morris. “I would suggest we begin loading the families.” The first of the huge crowd of women and children were already walking toward the men—pushing and shoving, clearly agitated by the gunfire and apparent naval battle. “Major, let me introduce you to Madame D’Aubigné; her husband commands the French fleet at Mers el Kébir. Madame, this is Major Jenkins of the United States Marines.”
“Major, do you have a doctor here? This is my son Étienne, his wife Marie is in, how do you say, labor.” She turned to a small cart with a young woman inside. Étienne stood next to it trying to comfort his wife.
“No, Madame, I do not. There are several fine doctors on the Argonne. We need to get her there as quickly as we can.” The first utility launch was disembarking the 1st platoon and Major Jenkins ordered two of their men to rig a stretcher and take Marie D’Aubigné to the gig. He shouted to Cruz that as soon as she was aboard, the gig was to shove off and make to Argonne at best speed. Madame D’Aubigné and Étienne went with her as the two Marines gently handed her to Johansen and Goldstein. They gently laid her across the gap between the seats in the cabin and jumped up to shove off with their boathooks.
Major Jenkins called Argonne on the radio. “Panther, this is Cub, have doctor standing by when gig arrives.”
Morris then turned back to Émile. “Commandant César, It would appear that we will be having visitors before the night is out. I would appreciate your help in positioning my three platoons of infantry in the best possible defensive positions. I only have some mortars and heavy machine guns with me for support; but if there is a steeple or hill close by where I might set up a radio, I should be able to bring Argonne’s guns to bear.”
Sheppard had anticipated that some of the French might need medical attention, but Morris’s request came as a shock. He had heard the faint automatic weapons fire earlier while standing on the conning platform. Was it one of his men? How badly were they hurt? Had any been killed? It was easy to not worry when he had something to do. Sheppard’s attention had been focused on the German S-boats until they were destroyed. Now his mind was free to wander and consider all the possibilities that he dreaded. In some respects he hoped that additional German forces would come; just give him something to do other than worry and think of the American lives his decisions had already ended on Shenandoah. Would his Marines be joining them?
What were the possibilities? What did he need to plan for? That was what he needed to do. If the Germans came again it would likely be by land. He needed his broadside pointed at Le Brusc. He was certain that they could not match his will—or his firepower. There were other considerations, too. His guns were naval rifles designed to send shells far over the horizon. At the range to the town and countryside surrounding, the trajectory was too flat for accuracy. A small error in elevation would make a huge error in range. The answer was to shoot at much lower velocities.
He went to the 21MC, “Guns, Captain, load high capacity in the main battery with reduced charges.”
Chuck Williamson knew exactly what was on Sheppard’s mind when he got the order. “Captain, Guns, Roger. Do you want reduced charges in the 6-inch as well?”
“Guns load high capacity and reduced charges in the 6-inch.”
Major Jenkins and his platoon officers were with Commandant César near the ambush that the French had executed against the SS. One of the Commandant’s men approached. “Commandant, one of the swine still lives. He was riding in the lead car. I think he is the commanding officer. The radio in the car was not destroyed. It was saying help was coming from Fort Lamalgue and Fort Napoléon.”
Émile walked over to where ObersturmFührer Rudolph Blauvelt lay on the ground. He was shot through the abdomen and both legs. The French member of the Maquis had disarmed him and handed the Commandant the German’s 9mm Lugar. Émile thought he might have an hour to live by looking at his abdominal wound. Émile spoke to him in German to be certain he understood. “You are a dead man. You know this, of course. The only question is how long it will take and how much pain you can endure? Now, what forces are coming from Lamalgue and Napoléon?”
Rudy spat at Émile.
Émile shrugged and raised the Lugar. He shot the SS officer in his left shoulder, shattering the bones in the joint. Rudy screamed in agony.
“Now I will ask again, what forces are coming from Lamalgue and Napoléon?”
Through spit and screams Rudy answered, “Go to hell!”
Émile shrugged again and stuck the barrel of the Lugar into the wound in Rudy’s shoulder. Just far enough so
that the front sight rested in what was left of the ball socket. He then slowly began to twist the Lugar back and forth as Rudy screamed.
“I’ll repeat my question once more. What forces are coming from Lamalgue and Napoléon?”
“There are two regular army mechanized infantry companies at Napoléon and a panzer company at Lamalgue.”
Émile casually shot him in the other shoulder and asked, “Why should I believe you, swine?”
“I tell the truth. They are part of the 351st panzer grenadier battalion. That is everything that is in Toulon. You know this.”
Indeed, Émile did. He bent down as if to work over the left shoulder and whispered to Rudy. “This is for my daughter Yvette!” Only a doctor knew how to inflict pain and keep the victim conscious.
Quickly Rudy passed out from the pain—the shocked expression that his mistress was a spy frozen for all eternity when Émile shot him in the head. Commandant César turned to his men. “Leave him here as a reminder of the fate that awaits the SS.”
“Major Jenkins, it would appear we are going to need your ship’s firepower before the night is out.”
“That I can arrange, Commandant, but I must insist that you do not torture prisoners nor execute wounded.”
Commandant César stared at the American major. What a fool this American was. Well, he would learn the ways that Germany wages war. There was only one way to treat them.
Boatswain’s Mate second class Raymondo Cruz was no doctor. Growing up as one of the oldest of a large family in a West Texas border town, he had seen his mother give birth to his younger brother and his younger sisters. This woman, Marie D’Aubigné, was not going to wait until they got back to Argonne. He ordered Goldstein and Johansen to give him their undershirts and turned the helm of the gig over to Goldstein. Cruz wouldn’t dare use a snipe’s shirt and let fireman Russert keep his while he took off his own and put his dungaree shirt back on.
He did not know what to do with Étienne; there was no place to boil water on the gig. He asked Madame D’Aubigné if she felt comfortable assisting him and would she please ask her son if he would help his crew get the gig ready to be hoisted aboard the battle cruiser. She said she would but like most French aristocrats had limited knowledge of the more base parts of life.
Cruz took out his Boatswain’s knife and asked Johansen for his lighter. Being careful to keep below the gunnel, he struck a flame and sterilized the blade of the knife.
Fearing the worst of this American sailor, Madame D’Aubigné exclaimed, “What are you doing?”
“Don’t worry, madame, I will need the knife to cut the baby’s cord. Please, Madame D’Aubigné will you hold up your daughter-in-law’s shoulders and tell Marie to spread her legs.” At the next contraction, he said, “Madame, tell Marie to push with all her strength!”
She said something in French. It was enough, as Cruz caught the healthy baby boy, slapped him on the bottom to make him cry, and asked Madame D’Aubigné to let her daughter-in-law lay back down. Cruz cut the cord with his knife, asked Madame for her clasp to hold the folded over cord, wiped off the baby with one shirt, and then wrapped him in the other two to keep him warm. He gave Marie her son just as she discharged the placenta. Not knowing what to do with it (His father had always taken it outside and buried it.), Cruz wrapped it in the used undershirt, took it topside, and threw it overboard.
Étienne saw the bloody object thrown and thinking it was his baby that the barbaric Americans were murdering, passed out cold just as the gig reached Argonne.
Sheppard saw the gig arrive standing on the conning platform with Admiral Hamblen and Commander Halverson. They all saw the sprawled body of a French civilian forward as Cruz came on deck with dark stains all over his uniform shirt and arms. It had to be bad. Cruz would never let Goldstein make a landing on his own, particularly at night in these circumstances. As Sheppard looked at his Coxswain through his 7 x 50 binoculars it was clear the man was not right, he was probably suffering from shock or was injured himself.
The Argonne’s carpenters had built a platform in the hanger shaped to fit the port side of a 50 foot utility launch. When the gig was raised out of the water and then lowered into the hanger, Chief Bledsoe positioned the gig up against the platform. Members of the aviation repair party then boarded the gig and carried Marie D’Aubigné and her son off the gig. Doctor Blankenship examined Marie on the hanger deck for any signs of hemorrhaging. Finding none, he ordered his hospital apprentices to take the stretcher to sickbay. Doctor Blankenship then looked after Étienne, administered smelling salts to the new father and sent him off on another stretcher.
Sheppard was peppering the JA phone talker on the conning station with a staccato series of questions. “How many men were dead? Has Petty Officer Cruz been attended to? How badly was he wounded?”
It was all Ted could do to keep from laughing at the questions when he found out what had happened. He finally had the JA talker tell the conning station that everyone was fine and accounted for with one additional stowaway—male, blue eyes, approximately 7 pounds. For the remainder of Cruz’s life no one in the Navy understood why a boatswain’s mate would have the nickname of Doc.
It was the last lite moment in a night filled with death and destruction.
Within ten minutes the first of the 50 foot utility launches returned to Argonne with about sixty French citizens onboard. That was the maximum that Sheppard had decided he could risk as additional weight in the ten tons of the boat itself. The launch crew quickly attached the shackles of the lifting bridle to the hard points of the launch. Aviation Chief Boatswain’s Mate Bledsoe then had the aircraft and boat crane lift the boat and its precious cargo into the lighted hanger where it was set on a cradle next to the wooden platform. Sailors assisted the French passengers out of the launch. When emptied the launch was lifted out of the hanger and placed back in the water. It wasn’t the safest of procedures. Peace time would demand the passengers disembark before the launches were lifted, but it was the fastest way to move the numbers involved.
No sooner was the first launch disconnected than another full one took its place repeating the cycle. It took twelve minutes from the hook on of one launch till the hook on of the next. At first glance things were going very smoothly and about 300 French naval family members were coming aboard every hour. That meant that from the first load which arrived at 0030, it would take until at least 0300 to get them all onboard. That did not include another hour to recover the Marines.
There was no possible way that Sheppard was going to avoid an all-out battle before 0400. He knew he had better prepare for it in every way possible. He started by discussing the situation with Admiral Hamblen and Commander Halverson in a methodology the War College at Newport called a Commander’s Estimate of the Situation.
Commandant César agreed with Major Jenkins that they faced an all-out fight with everything that the Germans had in the Toulon area. As the Marines dug in setting up their mortars and machine guns to cover the two lines of approach, the Maquis went house to house to encourage the citizens of Le Brusc to take what they needed and retreat to the hills. Morris was surprised how readily they accepted the imminent destruction of their homes, some even volunteering to take up arms against the Germans on the spot. The intellectual in Morris wanted to know what the Germans had done to be hated so by ordinary civilians.
Once the French were clear and his two observation posts set, it was time to register Argonne’s guns. Not as simple as it sounds, both the spotters and the gunners had to have the same reference. The problem was that the only map that Morris and Argonne had was the same chart that Sheppard was looking at on the conning station. It had no elevations on it, which meant that it was useless as aim points for the firecontrol system.
The directors would concentrate on maintaining an accurate range and bearing to either Pointe de la Cride or the southern promontory of Île des Embiez. Chuck Williamson would have to have both accurately in his computers in case Argo
nne had to begin taking evasive action and one or the other became masked. With spot one thru four and sky one, two, four, six and eight all getting accurate solutions on the two land marks it was time to determine the offsets in range, bearing, and elevation from those points to references the Marines ashore could see. There was no way to do that except by shooting and having the Marine spotters call corrections until both Chuck Williamson and Morris had the same reference on the ground even if Chuck’s were just offsets from promontories.
Oberstleutnant Dieter Fleischer, Commanding Officer of the 351st Panzer Grenadier Battalion, was determined to make an example of this latest attack by the Maquis. The Geneva Accords specifically prohibited civilians from attacking occupying forces. Should they take up arms they were combatants. Without distinctive markings recognizable at a distance, they could be considered saboteurs and summarily shot. In fact, German policy allowed him to kill ten civilians in reprisal for every soldier killed. Dieter was smart enough to know that would never work, but at times like these it was pleasant to contemplate.
He decided to have each of his mechanized infantry companies advance on the two roads into town until they met resistance. They would then dismount and advance in a frontal assault with platoons abreast. He would bring up his armor company with their PzKw IIIE and PzKw IVD tanks in support of the infantry once dismounted to overcome any obstacles too difficult for his grenadiers to handle on their own. He radioed his intentions to his company commanders to ensure that everyone knew the plan.
It was going to take his troops and tanks two hours to get into position, but Dieter still thought that he would be able to reach the town by 0245. With luck he would complete the roundup of all the townspeople by 0400.
It didn’t take Argonne’s radiomen long to find the German wavelengths and listen in on their battle plan. But Sheppard had to think this through. If he passed everything he heard back to Morris on the spotter network the Germans could play this game also, even if anyone on the conning station could understand German. Sheppard had to decide the importance of an intercept. But right now, outnumbered almost four to one, with no armor in support, his Marines needed every advantage possible to hold long enough to get the French civilians out of Le Brusc and onto Argonne. Sheppard would wait.
Sheppard and the French Rescue Page 17