The engine itself was tipped and cast from the tracks as if it were no more than a toy batted aside by some child’s hand. The ammunition wagon, positioned between it and the gun exploded also, its shells and propellant charges adding to the power of the blast that struck the gun in that same moment. The combined force was great enough to momentarily lift all 240 tonnes of the weapon and carriage off the tracks and deposit it a metre or so to the left, derailed and noticeably askew, with its rear section a devastated mass of twisted wreckage and broken human flesh.
With one of their own already lost, Piecemaker and Sceneshifter fired in unison a few seconds later, sending two more shells toward France and their deadly opponents. The 13.5-inch Mark V had proven to be a powerful and accurate weapon in naval service, and it was no less true for the railway guns as their fire landed within two hundred metres of Gustav’s position and more prisoners died in a shower of shrapnel and debris. Safe behind its high blast walls, Gustav however remained undamaged and it fired for a second time, thirty seconds later. Ahead of its muzzle, trees close to the beach that were already burning and stripped of vegetation – those that hadn’t been torn out completely or obliterated by the first firing – were battered and assaulted again as its second projectile roared past overhead on its journey toward England.
At that same moment Gladiator’s destruction was confirmed, the existence of Piecemaker to the west of Dover was also discovered upon its first firing, and again the information was relayed back to the battery commanders from their observer’s high above The Channel. Having fired its ranging shot on Sceneshifter, Gustav was once more directed onto this new target as it began to reload while Dora – now halfway through its own reloading cycle – was assigned to Sceneshifter, its crew waiting patiently for notification of the fall of shot so further corrections could be made.
“All crews! Left one minute… up two hundred… fire for effect!” At the observation post atop Shakespeare Cliff, points of impact were noted on the fall of both shells, and the captain in charge of fire direction called in final corrections, bellowing his orders into the radio. The only advantage Sceneshifter and Piecemaker now possessed against the two behemoths on the opposite side of The Channel was their substantially greater rate of fire, and their crews intended to put that to use. Each shell fired from France might well be almost ten times the weight of theirs, but they could fire ten rounds in return in the time it took Gustav and Dora to fire two. Their task now would be to make sure that volume of fire was used to good effect.
The men of the Royal Marine Siege Regiment went through their reloading processes with the kind of precision expected of professional artillerymen, and both guns had fired again before Gustav’s first shot on Sceneshifter had landed. To the relief of all concerned, it impacted harmlessly in the harbour a thousand metres short, launching a huge geyser of water into the sky as it exploded, but actually doing no real damage whatsoever. None of the crew had any illusions however as to any deficiencies in the training of their opponents, and they all knew the next shell coming their way would undoubtedly be much closer.
There was nowhere for the POWs to hide – digging tools and heavy machinery were no shelter whatsoever in the face of a bombardment from naval guns – and many more were killed and badly wounded as the second British salvo landed directly ahead of Gustav’s main protective blast walls. The thick barrier of earth and reinforced concrete wasn’t affected in the slightest by the detonations however, although the reloading process was slowed somewhat as the crew were showered by a rain of earth and debris thrown up by the twin explosions.
A third salvo landed forty seconds later, also to no great effect, as Dora finished her next loading cycle and fired again, this time on Sceneshifter, and four more 13.5-inch shells would land in the time it took Dora’s next shot to fire and cross The Channel. None would have any more effect on the pair of huge guns, although several light AA emplacements nearby were destroyed and a small magazine explosion ensued, killing many in the immediate area.
There was no time for congratulation of any kind however as Dora’s second shell howled in unerringly on its target. At ranges of over thirty-five kilometres, vagaries of wind and errors in observation meant it was difficult, if not impossible to obtain pinpoint accuracy from any long-range artillery piece. The majority of the weight of any normal artillery shell was predominantly ‘dead’ weight due to the thickness required in the shell walls to withstand the pressures of firing and by the stress of being propelled along a rifled barrel at great speed.
In the case of the British 13.5 inch gun for example, the nominal weight of the ‘light’ HE shell was 567kg however the actual ‘bursting charge’ of explosive within the projectile was just eighty kilos. This could certainly produce a quite lethal blast, but the size of actual charge was nevertheless comparatively quite small in comparison to an aircraft bomb of similar size, where there were no such pressures placed on the weapon and far more of its overall weight could be dedicated to explosive power. The same applied to the shells fired by Gustav and Dora, however it was all a matter of scale, and in the case of a projectile weighing five tonnes, the bursting charge stood at around 700kg: almost ten times the destructive force of its opponents’ weapons. This constituted a substantial amount of high explosive, producing a massive blast and shockwave, and as such there was no pressing need for pinpoint accuracy.
The second shot on Sceneshifter landed just 150 metres short of its intended target and was also rather unfortunately a direct hit on the historic Archcliffe Fort. The main buildings disintegrated, and the resultant blast was also powerful enough to collapse a number of houses on Archcliffe Rd and shatter the nearby viaduct across the rail lines. Wreckage and debris from the explosion rained down over a huge area as a pall of thick, black smoke rolled slowly skyward.
Sceneshifter was far too close to escape unscathed. As the fortifications above were obliterated, the shock of the impact and resultant crater were such that a section of the retaining wall below the fort instantly collapsed and spilled violently out onto the tracks ahead of the gun. The overpressure from the detonation and the masses of shrapnel that came with it were more than sufficient to topple the gun from its tracks and kill or severely maim every crewman into the bargain. Those few left alive – barely – were given little opportunity to consider their fate as the ammunition wagon behind was subjected to that same blast wave and its contents exploded a split second later, reducing what was left of the weapon and its locomotive to ragged lumps of twisted metal in the process.
General Sir John Dill, standing with his aide and several artillery officers inside the observation post atop Shakespeare Cliff, watched through the large telescope in futile anguish as a continued shower of British shells fell all around the German battery across The Channel yet failed to have any appreciable effect. The news of Gladiator’s destruction had barely been reported just moments before, and even as he watched, the huge plume of a muzzle blast rose through the haze of smoke now shrouding the target area, clearly signalling that one of the huge enemy guns had fired again.
It had taken just two shells to despatch Gladiator, and another ranging shell had already fallen into Dover Harbour near Sceneshifter, clearly indicating the second of their three guns was now in grave danger. It was a call he was loath to make, but the continued risk of losing their remaining assets in what was quickly proving to be an ineffectual barrage was something he wasn’t willing to accept any longer.
“Jameson!” He lifted his eye from the eyepiece and turned toward the captain beside him, who was staring through the lens of a similar telescope. “Advise both units to cease firing immediately and withdraw to safety!” There was no mistaking the urgency in his tone as he gave the orders. “Get them out of there!”
Captain Jameson instantly picked up the microphone of a radio placed on a small bench to his left and began relaying the change of orders to the gun commanders on site. Piecemaker responded with confirmation within seconds, howeve
r there was no reply from Sceneshifter whatsoever despite several attempts to raise them directly. It was a minute or two later before news came in over the same radio from another source notifying of the loss of the second weapon, along with the destruction of a substantial section of residential Dover and the demolition of Archcliffe Fort.
Across The Channel at that moment, Obergruppenführer Paul Strasser stood within his own command bunker and stared out through the viewing slots with a restrained but confident smile. There was nothing he could actually see from his position, save for the explosion of British shells about the compound and the decimation of his POW workforce – for which he cared little – but the reports from their Forward Air Controller flying high over the Kent coast with its J-4A fighter escort had verified the destruction of two of the three identified enemy railway guns.
The faint smugness was just a hint of the pleasure and pride he inwardly felt: Reichsmarschall Reuters’ first thought upon hearing of the discovery of the British guns was to immediately call in air strikes, and it was only due to Strasser’s desperate persistence that he’d finally give the green light for Battery 672(E) to deal with the problem directly. He’d known of Reuters’ negative feelings concerning the drain on Wehrmacht resources the two weapons represented from the moment he’d assume command of the unit twelve months before, but Strasser had been determined to prove the man wrong right from the start, and believed his unit was well on the way to a major victory in that regard that afternoon.
Long before the lieutenant-general had appeared on the scene, the pair of ‘superguns’ known by their official Wehrmacht order-of-battle nomenclature as SK-100[E] (and only ever referred to as ‘Gustav’ and ‘Dora’ by everyone else) had been proposed in a design study by the armaments manufacturer Krupp as a weapon capable of defeating the defences of the Maginot Line. Any such weapon would need to be able to penetrate seven metres of reinforced concrete, or up to one metre of hardened armour plate, and Krupp’s had theorised that a super-heavy artillery piece of between 70- to 100cm calibre would be required.
A calibre of 80cm was eventually settled upon, plans were drawn up, and construction of Gustav commenced early in 1936. Kurt Reuters had opposed the concept from the beginning and had consistently lobbied the Führer for the massive resources the weapons design and manufacture was consuming to be directed elsewhere to more useful projects, such as the Kriegsmarine’s accelerated naval building program. In spite of his pleas – or possible to some extent because of them – Adolf Hitler remained unmoved on the matter, and the pair of superguns were completed just prior to the outbreak of war at the end of 1939. The fluid nature or the German Blitzkrieg in Poland and against the Western Allies to that point had been such that there’d been no call for the guns’ use, but in Strasser’s opinion they’d now been given the perfect opportunity to come into their own, and were proving their worth admirably.
It was those thoughts that lingered in his mind as an Abwehr intelligence office attached to the battery staff entered the bunker from one of the main access tunnels at its rear and approached Strasser, a freshly-typed report in one hand.
“Herr Obergruppenführer,” the major began, coming quickly to attention and presenting a ‘Heil Hitler’ salute as Strasser turned to face him. “We have some interesting intelligence reports from a listening post at Wissant…”
“Go on, Herr Major…”
“The unit has identified radio traffic between the British gun crews and their command post. There’s an experienced intelligence officer in charge at Wissant, and he believes a high-ranking British officer is on site at the CP.” He paused for a moment. “The intelligence officer feels there’s a strong likelihood the general present may be Sir John Dill, the Chief-of-General-Staff.” Strasser’s eyes flew wide upon hearing that information.
“He’s certain of this?” His mind was already working over the possibility of staging such a huge military coup as eliminating the highest-ranking army officer of the British Empire.
“Not certain, Mein Herr, but he’s very confident.” The major tilted his head slightly as if conceding a point. “The man is one of our best, sir… I’d be inclined to believe him…”
“Have them work on locating this command post!” Strasser commanded without a moment’s thought. “Work with our spotter aircraft and see what you can find out while we deal with this third gun.” The Abwehr major saluted once more and immediately disappeared back down the same tunnel from whence he’d come, his mission clear and urgent.
Piecemaker was already securing for withdrawal as Gustav’s ranging shot fell substantially long, blasting a huge crater in the Dover Road to the north, near Westcliffe. Smoke and earth from the explosion was hurled skyward as the diesel shunter began to pull away, gun and ammo wagons in tow, and the driver needed no more incentive than that nearby impact to open the throttles wide and accelerate as quickly as the locomotive could manage. The safety of Guston Tunnel was at least five minutes away along the curved branch line, and every man riding that train at that moment recognised how incredibly vulnerable they’d be throughout that short journey.
In command of Piecemaker, and riding in the locomotive with the driver and a radio operator, a hatless Major Sebastian Pruitt hung his body half out of the left side of the cab, ignoring the wind flying past as he kept a keen eye out for further shell strikes or the ever-present added danger of air attack. The radioman beside him had already been advised of the loss of Gladiator, and news had also now come through of the destruction of Sceneshifter. The entire mission was clearly a complete and quite disastrous failure, and the recognition of that fact showed clearly in Pruitt’s grim expression as the train continued to build up speed heading into a long curve around to the south that would take the branch line back toward the East Kent Railway main line and Guston Tunnel.
Piecemaker was now the only remaining target, and as such had now attracted the attention of both German ‘superguns’. Dora’s first shell, with aim adjusted based on Gustav’s ranging shot, landed within a hundred metres of their original position, and it was of small comfort that they’d managed to vacate the area in sufficient time to avoid being completely vaporised: something that would’ve been a certainty had they not withdrawn so quickly. Even so, the shockwave hurtling past them carried enough force to shake the entire train and sting the exposed men on the gun carriage with debris and shrapnel that left some with superficial wounds.
Accurate as they were, the huge artillery pieces were intended for use against static fortifications and had never been expected to engage moving targets. With a rate of fire that at best allowed 10-12 rounds per hour, there was no way either weapon could be expected to land a shell even close to Piecemaker as its towing locomotive hit the junction onto the main East Kent Line at better than forty kilometres per hour and the welcoming northern mouth of Guston Tunnel came into view ahead.
As both guns were now running through differing stages of their respective reloading cycles following the impact of Dora’s last shot, there were several precious minutes for Strasser and Battery 672(E)’s gunlayers to consider the information being relayed to them from their FAC aircraft regarding Piecemaker’s hurried retreat. The speeding shunter with gun in tow was just a minute or two away from entering the tunnel and relative safety, although the train would need to slow down somewhat to have a chance of coming to a halt while still within its cover.
Then again, there was no real need for it to slow down at all – it was practically invulnerable to bombardment at speed, and by the time an air strike could be called in, the British gun could be many kilometres away and completely out of range should they decide to continue on rather than halt within the tunnel. Obergruppenführer Paul Strasser had other plans however, and had no intention of allowing the last of their targets escape.
“Gustav… new target…!” He quickly barked the order at his plotters, the experienced artillerymen immediately verifying their coordinates with their FAC flying above Dover befo
re quickly working out their new firing solutions and passing the information on to Gustav’s gun crew. “Dora… mission change! Clear breech and load VRRD round!”
Those orders were also passed on instantly, and within seconds there was a complete halt to the reloading process within Dora’s gunpit. The high explosive shell halfway through being rammed into the gun’s breech was hoisted out of the way by a heavy-duty loading crane as the main ammunition lift was lowered to the waiting crew below, only to return a moment later with a gigantic, ‘needle-pointed’ armour piercing round almost four metres long and weighing almost seven tonnes.
Piecemaker and her crew powered into the northern mouth of the tunnel at a steady forty kilometres per hour. Pruitt and the others inside the driver’s cab could see the dim flicker of light at far end, now just 1,200 metres away and drawing nearer at a fast pace. Initial plans had been to shelter inside the tunnel itself, but Pruitt had countermanded that order and instead directed the driver to continue on to the west toward Canterbury and more certain safety. So long as they kept moving, there was little chance the German guns could zero on them accurately, and keep moving was exactly what Pruitt intended to do.
All of them heard and felt the impact of another huge shell seconds later, although there was no way to tell where it had landed from their position underground. It was only as the tunnel mouth ahead drew ever closer that the first evidence of thick smoke became visible against the open landscape beyond. The strike wasn’t close – that much was clear from what little they could see – and for a second or two it seemed strange that even despite their speed the shot should’ve been so far off course.
It was only a few more seconds however before they all realised the shot had in fact been right on target. Guston Tunnel had been gouged out of the surrounding landscape and as a result, each end opened into a deep, steep sided cutting that trains gradually climbed out of heading away in either direction. Gustav’s latest shell hadn’t landed a direct hit on the mouth of the tunnel – it hadn’t needed to. Instead, 4,800kg of pointed steel and high explosive travelling at over 800 metres per second had simply been aimed at the cutting beyond, and it had been a perfect shot.
England Expects (Empires Lost) Page 51