By way of complete contrast, AP writer Kirke L. Simpson was looking at the war from a transatlantic perspective, telling his US audiences about the “sudden concentration of German air attacks on Dover”. They had stirred worldwide conjecture that Britain’s hour of ultimate trial had come, with Dover as a prospective bridgehead. Yet, Simpson thought, the circumstances of the Nazi bombardment sharply conflicted with that impression.
There then followed an appreciation of the difficulties facing the Germans. The British could deny the enemy use of the sheltered waters of Dover or any other narrow-mouthed harbour on the English Channel, but a landing on England’s open beaches would be even more difficult, unsheltered as they were from the swells of the shallow Channel and North Sea. Weather would be crucial. Any signs of a prolonged spell of calm would raise greater fears in Britain than the intensified air bombardment of Dover and its vicinity. Nevertheless, Simpson noted that a worldwide propaganda exercise was underway. The Germans were doing their best to convince everybody that the assault on England would be over and another smashing Nazi victory recorded by 1 October or thereabouts.
Reflecting more closely the decisions of the Hitler conference, Virginio Gayda was again in Il Giornale D’Italia, this time stating that the invasion of the British Isles would not be “a simple military advance”. England would probably not be invaded until the British people had been weakened by bombs and blockade. The tactics of attrition must be used, he wrote: constant air attacks to demoralize the population and destroy the island defences; attacks on ships bringing supplies to England, and a strong submarine blockade and a weakening of empire defences in the Mediterranean.
In England, a warm summer’s day with clear skies made it perfect for an invasion – or spending a day by the seaside. For a brief moment, holidaymakers had more in common with Hitler than their own government, with access denied to their favourite beaches. That morning, a Sunderland of No. 10 Sqn Royal Australian Air Force, based at Mount Batten, was escorting the merchant cruiser Moolton out from Plymouth after a refit. Three and a half hours into his patrol, pilot, Flight Lieutenant Bill Garing sighted a formation of five Ju 88 bombers heading for his charge. He flew his heavy flying boat at them aggressively and, faced with an aircraft nicknamed the “flying porcupine”, the Germans retired. Garing was awarded a DFC.15
The only other fighting in the morning was over the Channel at 11 a.m., when Stukas attacked some small convoys. In the afternoon, Dover enjoyed the attention of ten Me 109s which had been patrolling the Calais area. Of particular note was No. 41 Sqn, which claimed it had destroyed an aircraft identified as a Heinkel 113. The kill was later confirmed.
Bomber Command despatched 28 Blenheims to carry out daylight raids on enemy airfields and industrial targets in Germany. Because of the lack of suitable cloud cover, which the aircraft relied upon for protection, only eleven actually bombed. One failed to return. Six Battles were detailed to attack invasion ports. On their return, one was shot down by an RAF night fighter and crashed into the sea off Skegness. A Hudson and two Hampdens were also lost.
On the day, Fighter Command flew only 365 sorties, losing five machines. With Bomber Command, RAF losses amounted to ten, against three Germans. In the twenty-two days of the battle, Fighter Command had lost 101 aircraft. Total RAF losses stood at 172 against 167 Germans lost. Furthermore, British losses to air action included eighteen merchant vessels and four destroyers. Ten merchantmen had been sunk by mines, some of which may have been laid by aircraft. Thirty-eight were damaged and three destroyers sustained serious damage, plus a depot ship. Three armed trawlers had been lost to direct air action, and another two to mines. In all respects, the Luftwaffe was well ahead.
DAY 23 – THURSDAY 1 AUGUST 1940
Despite the war, the Daily Mirror chose to attack the Ministry of Information, its columnist John Harper calling for its abolition. The news section conveyed a report of Commons criticism the previous day of “nosey parkers” employed by Cooper’s department “to make a personal canvass of householders”.16 Cooper himself had then been questioned about the delay on releasing news of the sinking of the Lancastria.
Loyally, the Minister had had to take responsibility for the delay, unable to reveal that Churchill himself had forbidden publication.17 The Mirror gave no quarter: “Mr Cooper was in an apologetic and fumbling state of mind. And well he might be, for clearly his explanation did not convince even himself that he had behaved with other than his usual weakness”. His explanation had been “an insult to both the dead and living whose heroism Mr Cooper deliberately suppressed for five weeks”. Only one man stopped the publicity it deserved, the paper said. He “probably thinks any publicity – even publicity given to gallantry – is rather vulgar. It is time he retired into obscurity himself, and gave way to a Minister of Information who will tell the public the truth”.18
There was also an attack on Home Secretary John Anderson, targeting the emergency powers he was laying before parliament. They would enable the Executive to prevent the expression of any kind of opinion in any newspaper at all, giving the Minister complete power over the press and placing him in a position “no whit inferior” to that occupied by Dr Göbbels in Germany.
Anderson was a key character in government line-up. Under Chamberlain, he had been Lord Privy Seal, then responsible for devising the government’s “shelter policy”. On the outbreak of that war, he had been appointed Home Secretary and Minister of Home Security. It was no coincidence that the two portfolios had been combined. The latter was charged with civil defence – then called Air Raid Precautions, or ARP – responsible as the name would imply, for protecting people. But the Home Secretary was in charge of maintaining law and order. He was the man who would have to deal with the panic and the collapse of law and order, should the terror bombers have their intended effect.
However, the man who held both the stick and shield was not even a politician, in any real sense. He had qualified as a mathematician and studied chemistry in the University of Leipzig – producing a brilliant dissertation on uranium – but had then decided to become a civil servant, with a score in his entrance examination setting a new record. By 1937, he had been for five years the Governor of Bengal, only latterly being put up for election in the safe seat of the Combined Universities in Glasgow, in order to take up a post as minister. It was said of him that, in an age before the computer was invented, he was a tolerable substitute for one, failing to infuse his departments with any “warmth, humour or general sympathy”.19 When it came to using the stick or the shield, few had any doubt which he would prefer.
While the press was fulminating about Anderson, Virginio Gayda was ramping up his rhetoric, declaring that a lightning victory against Britain was now impossible. Britain would be “worn down in a war of attrition”. In the Daily Express, he was cited as saying:
The last phase of the war cannot proceed in a manner similar to that which struck down France, not only because Britain is an island, militarily well defended, but also because Britain has an Empire which extends to all continents and which is taking part with imposing forces in the war. The war must rather be one of continual hammering and attrition. This is just what Italy and Germany are doing now.
With his close association with Mussolini, Gayda had built an impressive record for reliability. AP elaborated on his report, citing the German High Command. This stated that Britain would be brought down by bombing and “blockage”, announcing that there would be “night raids … against ships and facilities in southern English ports, as well as searchlight positions”. Military observers in Germany had emphasized the point of “making English ports useless for receiving war supplies”.
Back in Germany, Keitel noted the Navy’s concerns about meeting the 15 September deadline. With the details of Hitler’s conference to hand, he issued orders that the preparations should continue, but “will cease” on the 15th. After eight days, or at the most, fifteen, after the start of the “great air attack”, the F
ührer would decide whether Sealion would go ahead. If it did not, preparations would resume but “in a form which will avoid the severe damage to the economic situation by the crippling of internal shipping traffic”. However, Räder, assuming that Hitler’s silence on the issue of the narrow front had meant that he had agreed with the Navy view, issued his own orders for the naval preparations to be carried out on the basis of the narrow front. A profound misunderstanding was now in the making.
Plans for the air war were about to change as well. Since 19 July, Hitler’s peace offer had been on the table and only a small fraction of German air strength had been committed to the battle. Most of it was confined to attacks against shipping and ports. But, with the deposed King of England, the Duke of Windsor, sailing for the Bahamas, Hitler evidently concluded that his attempts to drag Britain to the negotiating table were not going to meet with immediate success.20 He thus issued Führer Directive No. 17: “In order to establish the necessary conditions for the final conquest of England,” he declared, “I intend to intensify air and sea warfare against the English homeland”. Once again, he ordered the Luftwaffe to overpower the RAF “with all the forces at its command” in the shortest possible time. Attacks were to be against aircraft, ground installations, supply organizations and also against the aircraft industry and manufacturers of anti-aircraft equipment. Crucially, written into the directive was the provision that, after achieving temporary or local air superiority, the air war was to be continued against the ports, in particular against food stores, and also against stores of provisions in the interior of the country.21
This was not a plan devoted to invasion preparations, but a template for strategic bombing. The directive allowed for attacks on the ports, to be made “on the smallest scale” in view of the forthcoming operations, but it also stated that attacks on warships and merchant ships could be “reduced”. The Luftwaffe had to give “adequate support” to naval operations and be ready to take part in Sealion, but it was not required to direct its strength to invasion preparations. And “terror attacks as measures of reprisal” were reserved specifically to Hitler.22
Also, and significantly, the attack was to be delayed. It was not to begin until “on or after 5 August”. As the British Government was still mulling over the peace offer made through the Swedish King – an initiative that may have been brought about by Göring himself, via Birger Dahlerus – it is not untoward to suggest that, even at this late hour, the full might of the Luftwaffe was being held back for just a few days more, until an answer had been received.23
Daily operations, meanwhile, continued at their usual tempo. With heavy mist over the Channel, action was mainly targeted against shipping off the Yorkshire coast. But in the mid-afternoon, a single raider dropped bombs on the largest factory complex in Norwich, the Boulton and Paul Riverside works, where the Defiant fighter was made. In BBC and press reports, Norwich was identified. With the exception of an air attack on Dover Harbour, this was the first time naming had been permitted, most certainly because of William Joyce (Lord Haw-Haw), a Irish national who broadcast in English from Hamburg, who had already identified to location of the attack. According to BBC figures, at least half the country listened occasionally his programme Germany Calling, a third regularly. Details were even listed in The Times. So inadequate was the official news that people were turning to the enemy for information. His jeering about this raid had prompted the fuller disclosure.
On the naval front, the steamer City of Canberra, heading for London, was damaged by a mine about ten miles from Aldeburgh. German bombing damaged the SS Kerry Head close to the Old Head of Kinsale, and the tanker Gothic, twelve miles from Flamborough Head. The coast off East Anglia was getting a dangerous place to be.
In 659 sorties, Fighter Command lost of two fighters. Four Blenheims and a Hudson were also lost, but two Blenheims made a surprise attack on Leeuwarden airfield, destroying four Me 109s. These brought Luftwaffe losses to seventeen.
In a highly revealing episode, Luftwaffe aircraft dropped reprints of Hitler’s “last appeal to reason” speech over the West Country and East Anglia. Four He 111s were engaged on this activity in the Bristol area alone. Some leaflets were collected up and sold the next day with the proceeds going to charity. Many fell on empty countryside. Others were hastily gathered up by officials and destroyed. Few understood the significance. The Germans were still trying to bypass the British Government and appeal directly to the people. It was too little, too late. But it suggested that the peace initiative was still alive, albeit in its final throes.
DAY 24 – FRIDAY 2 AUGUST 1940
In Stockholm, the Svenska Dagbladet newspaper reported that “well-informed circles” were saying that the Axis powers were continuing their peace efforts, not wanting to try an invasion of England, the success of which was doubtful. In London, the Express based a leader on Gayda’s most recent intervention. “Hitler has had a triumph already with his invasion propaganda”, it intoned:
in spite of the many voices which he uses. He says one day through the voice of Göering that invasion is coming at any moment. The next day he uses the mouthpiece to explain why it has not come yet. Hitler’s method is always the same: Propaganda first, fighting afterwards. Words before deeds. Creating confusion and striking at morale in advance.
There is no evidence that Gayda ever spoke for anyone but Mussolini, and the Führer and the Duce did not always sing from the same hymn sheet. What the newspaper did not know (or chose not to acknowledge) was that Hitler still seemed to believe there was a possibility of a peace deal. Over southern England that night, bombers dropped more reprints of his speech.
This seemed to be of little interest to the British media. Instead, the smouldering discontent with Duff Cooper erupted. The proximate cause was the Ministry of Information conducting door-to-door surveys on morale – the “Cooper’s snoopers” issue that had already attracted some notoriety. This had the Guardian referring to the “ill-starred ministry”. But Cooper had made a counter-attack in the Commons the previous day and the Daily Express devoting its front-page banner headline to it.
This was a most extraordinary situation. The nation was, by all accounts, locked into a life and death struggle – on the cusp between peace and total war, with millions of lives in the balance. Yet the papers were more concerned with a debate in the House of Commons triggered by Conservative MP Sir Archibald Southby. And never mind the German invasion. This was about public opinion surveys, which were being branded “an invasion of privacy”, the Ministry of Information (MoI) being comparing with the Gestapo. Cooper lashed out at his tormentors. The usefulness of MPs was “limited” in wartime, he declared. Furthermore, the Press “had proved themselves unworthy of being trusted with any important matter”.
In the German camp, preparations for Sealion were continuing apace. Von Brauchitsch, Halder and Räder were in Sylt, a town on the west coast of Denmark, watching a beach assault demonstration. Unloading the barges proved problematical and Halder was critical of the high angle of descent of the ramps, declaring the design “unsatisfactory”.24 Von Rundstedt was not there, and strategic issues were not discussed. Furthermore, Göring was working separately on his air offensive. He had decided to call it Eagle Attack (Adlerangriff), to be launched on 11 August with Eagle Day (Adlertag). His force would consist of almost 1,700 aircraft. Field Marshal Kesselring, based in France at the head of the Second Air Fleet, was to play the major role. His bases were closest to England. In support was to be Field Marshal Sperrle’s Third Air Fleet in north-west France. General Stumpff’s Fifth Air Fleet would operate from bases in Norway, Denmark and Holland, against the Midlands and the north of England.
The main target was the RAF although, as events would demonstrate, Luftwaffe strength would be widely dissipated. For all that, Göring estimated that it would take him only three days of good weather to destroy British air power. Against him, as of 2 August, were 63 Blenheim fighters, 238 Spitfires, 352 Hurricanes and 22 Defian
ts, totalling 675 aircraft.
The British public, meanwhile, was being briefly entertained by the Hull registered steamer Highlander. It had claimed two bombers shot down and had steamed into Leith Harbour with the remains of one, a Heinkel 115 seaplane, draped across her stern. The Luftwaffe responded by attacking a convoy off Harwich and sinking the armed trawler, Cape Finisterre. One man was killed. In the Thames Estuary, the Ellerman Lines cargo ship City of Brisbane was attacked and set on fire. Her master ran her aground and she was still burning three days later, a total loss. Minelayers were active overnight and there were raids on the RAF technical college at Halton, the airfields at Catterick, Farnborough and “Romford” and the Forth Bridge area.
That day, Fighter Command put up 477 sorties. None of its aircraft were lost to enemy action, although two were lost in accidents, one during a night take-off. Bomber Command lost six. The Germans had lost five, one shot down by the Highlander. Not only the airmen exaggerated their kills.
DAY 25 – SATURDAY 3 AUGUST 1940
The Guardian reported on Duff Cooper’s performance in parliament. He had revealed his real weakness when he had lost his temper, the paper said. The Mirror joined the fray, remarkably giving a front-page slot to Cassandra under the headline “the crazy gang”, a lengthy, sarcastic diatribe against Cooper’s department. Jock Colville was less than sympathetic: Cooper had “not produced many results as Minister of Information”. Nicolson, the loyal deputy, was feeling “very depressed”. The whole press, “plus certain pro-Munich conservatives, have planned and banded together to pull Cooper down”. He nevertheless thought that his boss might survive for a few weeks “with Winston’s support”.25
Many Not the Few: The Stolen History of the Battle of Britain Page 13