Most of the French had been evacuated though there appeared to still be a hundred of so remaining. Morris thought that this was going much too slowly. Determined to speed things up, he headed toward the port to remove any bottlenecks. He was surprised that there did not appear to be any.
The first of his stretcher bearers came to the port carrying the most badly injured of the German tank crews. Argonne’s medical personnel had not yet arrived. It was clear that many of these men were badly injured and needed immediate treatment. He loaded a launch and sent it off “on the double.” The French civilians could wait. He knew that none would be left behind.
That wasn’t the way the French saw it. They knew as well as Morris that dawn was approaching and with it the Luftwaffe. They feared that every launch was going to be the last for the French. It took all of Morris’s linguistic powers to keep them from rushing the dock and hurling the German wounded into the sea. It did not help matters when the night was split by Argonne’s searchlights and her 5-inch guns began firing at a German torpedo boat less than a mile from them. Everyone had seen enough of combat this night.
Oberleutnant zur See Lothar Reitemeyer had not. The S-54 had just cleared Île des Embiez, when he got his first clear look at the warship. He still could not fire his G7a torpedoes. He was just outside their range in high speed. Besides, there was a reef between Île des Embiez and Rochers Des Magnons. If he fired now the torpedoes would dive into the reef before they settled on the running depth of five meters that he had set.
He was studying this immense warship that he had never seen before. It was beautifully proportioned though it was difficult to make out the lines in the darkness. In an instant it was gone. He was blinded by an incredibly bright white light. They must be searchlights from the warship.
Lothar became disoriented. He blinked trying to adjust his eyes to the light. His only reference was the light. He could see nothing else. Shells were coming—a lot of shells. They began to explode behind his Schnellboote where he had just been. He knew he did not have long and turned directly at the ship to launch his torpedoes. He might die, but he would launch at least the two torpedoes in his tubes.
The instant the S-54 pointed the lights, he pulled the firing levers and the two G7a torpedoes leapt from the tubes. He could see them in the light as they hit the water to run on their deadly task. The shells were landing closer. Even though he had slammed the throttles of his Daimler-Benz diesels to the stops, his acceleration lasted for only a few moments.
Sheppard saw the torpedoes leave the launching tubes of the German S-boat through his binoculars just before his guns found the range to the target. There was one hit. Aft, he thought, perhaps in the engine room. His fire control solution originally had the boat going too slowly as the shells were landing astern. Just as quickly as he achieved that one hit, now the solution was too fast. The 5-inch projectiles were now landing ahead of the German. The hit must have been in the engine room slowing the boat.
It took another ninety seconds before Argonne’s fire had torn the boat apart. Sheppard ordered, “Cease fire. Break arcs,” wondering about the construction of this boat in comparison to the others. It had not yet sunk but was clearly a wreck and not capable of further offensive action. He coldly decided that Argonne’s torpedo defense system of liquid filled layers of tanks behind a “foam-filled” layer would just have to hold. If Argonne was slowed by two hits, so be it. The wounded Marines in the launch astern were worth the risk. After all, the German Schnellboote captain may have anticipated him moving and aimed off accordingly.
In Marine parlance, Morris’s men were encountering light resistance as they searched for wounded Germans. He had been correct to warn his men about fanatics. An occasional shot from a German rifle or quick burst of submachine gun fire was followed by multiple shots from the Marine’s Springfield bolt action rifles or a burst from one of their BARs (Browning Automatic Rifles). First one, then a few of the litters contained some of his Marines.
Perhaps Commandant César had the best idea. It would have saved some painful wounds among his Marines. It was a question that had plagued every military officer this century. Do acts of the enemy contrary to the Geneva Conventions justify you in committing further violations? There was no clear answer. On the one side, war would spiral quickly to unspeakable acts of barbarism. On the other, an immoral enemy gained an advantage. Morris wasn’t able to resolve that dilemma, but he knew that his conscience was clear. Following the rules would let him sleep at night.
Sheppard counted off the minutes. He knew the German steam torpedoes ran at 44 knots. It should take a little over three minutes for them to reach the Argonne. He had expected his lookouts to report the wakes of the torpedoes as the nitrogen contained in the air they used for an oxidizer and the combustion products reached the surface, disturbing the phosphorescent plankton. His lookouts had been alerted to watch for them and Lord knew they had the best motivation in the world at this point to do a good job. None had been reported.
That must mean the torpedoes were the wakeless electric type that had been used by the U-boat off the Delaware Bay entrance. Those were estimated to have a range of 5,000 meters, barely enough to reach Argonne from the S-boat’s firing point. Their speed was less though; only 30 knots. Sheppard struggled to make his fatigued mind do the math. They would take four, not quite five minutes before they hit.
How long had it been? He checked the clock on the bulkhead 0338; before he realized that he didn’t know the time that the German had fired. He just had to wait.
All the firing had stopped ashore by the time that Argonne’s medical team arrived with additional stretchers. One of the dentists did the triage while the lone doctor worked to save the more critically injured. One of Morris’s Marines was among them. He was sent on the very next launch.
One of the standing jokes in the naval services, which included the Marines, was that if you got wounded in action make sure it was very minor or really bad. The minor ones a Pharmacist’s Mate would work on. They were always very competent. If you were severely wounded, a real doctor would tend to your injuries with a good probability for recovery. It was the in between that you needed to be concerned about. Those were the injuries that the dentist would treat. Like most jokes it had no basis in reality.
It was 0342. The German torpedoes regardless of the type should have been to Argonne by now if they were coming at all. Sheppard raised his binoculars to study the remains of the S-boat. It was still there without any signs of life. Why had it not sunk? His mind grappled with the imponderable that a heavily loaded torpedo boat so obviously riddled by his 5-inch high capacity shells could still float. As he stared, he saw the waves breaking at her bow on the Rochers Des Magnons.
Sheppard turned to Admiral Hamblen and Commander Halverson. Without the benefit of binoculars they were still marking time hoping the German torpedoes had missed. Neither officer could possibly understand why Sheppard was laughing hysterically. But Sheppard knew that his luck had held, or perhaps it was the ghosts of the 50,000 men who died along the Meuse-Argonne front in the Great War that were protecting his battle cruiser this night.
It was 0400 before the last of the French civilians came aboard. There were three more launches of wounded before Morris began pulling back his Marines. First to return was the heavy weapons platoon. Then the line infantry platoons.
True to Marine tradition and Morris’s promise to Captain McCloud, not one Marine or sailor assigned to Argonne was left behind. Morris had a formal muster from his First Sergeant in his hand as he stepped aboard the gig—the last American to leave Le Brusc. Morris marveled that a place so full of the thunder and flash of exploding shells just hours before could now be so peaceful. There was not one person stirring.
Boatswain’s Mate second class ‘Doc’ Cruz brought Major Jenkins and his headquarters group to Argonne at his usual wide open speed as the first hint of dawn was brightening the eastern sky. That made it a little easier for Johansen and
Goldstein to catch the bridle with their boathooks and in less than a minute the gig was lifted from the water at Chief Bledsoe’s direction.
Madame D’Aubigné somewhat bedraggled but still with the air of a French patrician was organizing the ever growing group of civilians in Argonne’s after mess decks. She had first followed Marie, her baby and her son Étienne to the ship’s hospital. Reassured by a Commander Blankenship, that all three were strong and healthy, she then asked to be taken to where the French civilians were being gathered.
It did not take long before, with the help of Chevir, she began developing a list of all the evacuees and which of her husband’s officers they were related to. The Navy families organized themselves quickly and naturally by ships and staffs, and an informal chain of command was rapidly established for the difficult coordination problems that lay ahead.
She was the first aboard Argonne to realize that the American battle cruiser was becoming a new home to the town of Le Brusc. Madame D’Aubigné feared that the Americans would send them ashore if their true identities were discovered. After all, it would not delay the evacuation if the launches took the residents of the town back on the boats’ return trips.
Besides names, she also began collecting the skills that each individual brought. Daphne D’Aubigné decided that when the townspeople’s presence became known, her only chance of saving them from the Gestapo was to quickly inform the captain or admiral of how they could help in the care of this immense group of civilians crammed into every corner of these eating spaces. Her task was made much easier when the mayor of the fishing village identified himself. With his help, every Nazi sympathizer was identified and placed under unarmed, but burley French guards.
Even the collaborators pleaded not to be sent back and thrown to the mercies of the Gestapo.
Sheppard watched the gig start its rise at the end of the aircraft and boat crane hoist cable. He ducked his head into the conning station and directed his Conning Officer to work Argonne up to maximum speed as quickly as the Chief Engineer thought prudent. He also directed a course of 225o to clear the coast defenses at Toulon while still opening the French coast as directly as he could.
He needed to get his crew some rest. He ordered the Officer of the Deck to, “Secure from battle stations. Set the modified underway watch with one third of the anti-aircraft battery manned. Maintain condition Zebra below the second deck except for the passage of personnel on the third and fourth decks.” That was the best compromise he thought prudent for the threats that they still faced and the enemy controlled waters that Argonne had to traverse.
There weren’t standard orders to accomplish what he wanted; at least none that his foggy mind could think of at the moment. So he just told his OOD that he wanted the two Kingfishers at the aft ends of the catapults fueled, armed with depth charges and readied for launch except for their tie downs. He directed that the, what should he call it, disembarkation platform be broken down and the launches nested. He needed to make room to store two of the OS2U-5s back in the hanger in order to use the ones on the catapults.
Major Jenkins in company with the Argonne’s Executive Office made the long climb up to the conning station from the hanger. They each needed to report on the night’s activities to the Captain. Neither of the two officers knew how Sheppard was going to react to the news that they brought.
As they entered the conning station Sheppard and Admiral Hamblen were discussing the need to get a message to the French fleet at Mers el Kébir. For all that Hamblen knew they might be raising steam to sortie for Toulon at this very moment. They had no way to know that their families were no longer in danger—at least not from the Gestapo or SS.
Major Jenkins and Commander Grabowski waited until recognized before they spoke. It was Admiral Hamblen who noticed them first, “Ah, Major. Well done!”
Morris knew there was no higher praise in the naval services. But at the moment he did not think it was earned; “Thank you, Admiral, but many lives were lost while we were ashore.”
This was what Sheppard had been dreading all night—the report of the casualties among his Marines. “How many Marines did you lose?”
Morris did not understand the question. “Captain, do you know something that I don’t. When I left Le Brusc, every one of my Marines was accounted for.”
Two tired men were looking at the same events from different sides. “Yes, Morris, thank you for bringing them all back, but how many died?”
“Captain, they were all alive when I put them in the launches.”
Sheppard was certain he had misheard his Marine Commanding Officer. He knew that all the launches were accounted for. None had looked damaged. “You mean you did not lose a man!”
“Yes, sir. My Marines suffered only five casualties—one very serious. A corporal took a submachine gun burst in the chest, but he was alive when we put him in the launch. I have not gone to sick bay to check on him yet.”
“But all the stretchers. There must have been close to a hundred.”
“Captain, there were ninety-two to be exact. Five were Marines. The other eighty-seven were German POWs.”
“POWs?”
“Yes, sir. The French Maquis were going to execute them all for fear of being recognized later. I could not let that happen. The Maquis leader, a Commandant César, told me the only way I could live up to the requirements of the Geneva Accords was to take them with us. I thought they might be useful. We captured nine officers including two majors.”
“Unbelievable.” Sheppard looked at Admiral Hamblen, who just looked back at him. Ollie Halverson just smiled.
Admiral Hamblen asked, “Major, you said that many lives had been lost. What did you mean?”
“Admiral, we counted 649 German dead, including the SS platoon that the Maquis wiped out. We also destroyed sixteen tanks.”
“Major, you did this with only five casualties?”
“No, Admiral, my Marines hardly fired a shot. Argonne did almost all the damage.”
The only thing that Hamblen could say was, “Thank you.”
Sheppard turned to Ted Grabowski. “XO, how did the evacuation turn out?”
“Wellll, Captain, I talked to Madame D’Aubigné when she came aboard. She said that there were about 730 family members with her. Captain, we owe her a lot. She has taken charge of all the civilians and is organizing them in the after mess deck as we speak.”
“Ted, did we get them all?”
“Captain, the truth is I don’t know. We have over a thousand French civilians onboard.
“What, I thought you said there were only about 730 family members” was all Sheppard could think of. His ship now had almost forty-five hundred people on board. It was big but this was stretching even Argonne’s seams. “How did that happen?”
“Captain, we could not tell who belonged and who didn’t. It wasn’t like we had a roster to check off. After you got underway, an old Frenchman came up to me in the hanger and identified himself as the mayor of Le Brusc. He said that when we started killing the German troops, his citizens came and asked him what to do? They knew that the German reprisals would be harsh on the town. He told them all just get in line. He thinks we evacuated the whole fishing village.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“No, Captain, it’s true.”
“I am sorry, Ted. I do believe you. It’s just an unbelievable turn of events, though the more I think about it, it is probably the best thing that could have happened. Major, keep your men off the gunnery watch bill. There may be Nazi sympathizers in this group. Until we can sort all this out, I want all the French kept where they can’t do us any harm. Guard all the accesses to the fourth deck, the turrets, and the handling rooms.”
“Captain, it seems that Madame D’Aubigné was thinking along the same lines. With the help of the mayor, they are confident that every potential saboteur has been identified and placed under French guard. Even the Nazi sympathizers are being very cooperative.”
; “Amazing!”
“Ted, get together with Senior Chief Hancock and figure out how we are going to feed and provide bunks for all these people. Oh, you had also better figure out how to entertain the kids.”
“Admiral, I hope you don’t think I am running a ferry!” Sheppard paused. “Alright you two get to it.”
With that Morris and Ted headed to the ladder away from further questions. Sheppard, Admiral Hamblen and Ollie looked at each other, shook their heads and smiled.
Ollie said he had an idea on how they might be able to get the good news to Amiral D’Aubigné without jeopardizing any family members that might not have been able to get to Argonne. Both Hamblen and Sheppard thought it an excellent idea. Ollie raced off to send the message to the American Embassy in Switzerland. Admiral Hamblen then turned to Sheppard, held out his right hand to shake and told him, “Very well done!” Hamblen headed for the ladder with a last comment, “I’ll be in my stateroom if you need me. Please keep me informed.”
As the admiral was leaving, Sheppard noticed that his orderly, Corporal Pease, had been replaced by another Marine. The shock that it was probably his orderly that lay among the wounded in sick bay drained the remaining strength from Sheppard. He went to his padded chair, sat, and wondered why it seemed that every success brought a measure of tragedy to him personally.
Was it true? Had she lost him or was it the cacophony of noise, other’s thoughts that were masking him? Everything had been so chaotic. Was he just too tired to think or even dream? He had been her strength, her rock. What now?
She knew in the depths of her soul that she had to sustain and support him. She had to will her endurance into him, even at a distance. Improve the bond that sustained them both, in this monstrous thing called war that threatened everyone.
Sheppard and the French Rescue Page 20