To allay complaints an official inquiry was held, which reported the publishable facts. Viewed in the after-light and in its larger aspects the episode was highly advantageous to us. “When I speak on the radio next Monday evening,” cabled the President, “I shall say a word about those people who treat the episode in the Channel as a defeat. I am more and more convinced that the location of all the German ships in Germany makes our joint North Atlantic naval problem more simple.” But it looked very bad at the time to everyone in the Grand Alliance outside our most secret circles.
Meanwhile havoc continued to reign along the Atlantic coast of the United States. A U-boat commander reported to Doenitz that ten times as many U-boats could find ample targets. Resting on the bottom during daylight, they used their high surface speed at night to select the richest prey. Nearly every torpedo they carried claimed its victim, and when torpedoes were expended the gun was almost as effective. The towns of the Atlantic shore, where for a while the waterfronts remained fully lighted, heard nightly the sounds of battle, saw the burning, sinking ships off-shore, and rescued the survivors and wounded. There was bitter anger against the Administration, which was much embarrassed. It is however easier to infuriate Americans than to cow them.
In London we had marked these misfortunes with anxiety and grief. On February 10 we offered unasked twenty-four of our best-equipped anti-submarine trawlers and ten corvettes with their trained crews to the American Navy. These were welcomed by our Ally, and the first arrived in New York early in March. It was little enough, but the utmost we could spare. “’Twas all she gave—’twas all she had to give.” Coastal convoys could not begin until an organisation had been built up and escorts scraped together. The available fighting ships and aircraft were at first used only to patrol threatened areas. The enemy easily evaded them and hunted elsewhere. The main stress now fell between Charleston and New York, while single U-boats prowled over all the Caribbean and the Gulf of Mexico, with a freedom and insolence which were hard to bear. The sinkings were nearly half a million tons, mostly within three hundred miles of the American coast, and nearly half were tankers. Only two U-boats were sunk in American waters by American aircraft, and first kill off the American coast by a surface vessel was not made until April 14, by the United States destroyer Roper.
In Europe March closed with the brilliant and heroic exploit of St. Nazaire. This was the only place along all the Atlantic coast where the Tirpitz could be docked for repair if she were damaged. If the dock, one of the largest in the world, could be destroyed a sortie of the Tirpitz from Trondheim into the Atlantic would become far more dangerous and might not be deemed worth making. Our Commandos were eager for the fray, and here was a deed of glory intimately involved in high strategy. Led by Commander Ryder of the Royal Navy, with Colonel Newman of the Essex Regiment, an expedition of destroyers and light coastal craft sailed from Falmouth on the afternoon of March 26 carrying about two hundred and fifty Commando troops. They had four hundred miles to traverse through waters under constant enemy patrol, and five miles up the estuary of the Loire.
The goal was the destruction of the gates of the great lock. The Campbeltown, one of the fifty old American destroyers, carrying three tons of high explosive in her bows, drove into the lock gates, in the teeth of a close and murderous fire. Here, led by Lieutenant-Commander Beattie, she was scuttled, and the fuzes of her main demolition charges set to explode later. From her decks Major Copeland, with a landing party, leaped ashore to destroy the dock machinery. The Germans met them in overwhelming strength, and furious fighting began. All but five of the landing party were killed or captured. Commander Ryder’s craft, although fired on from all sides, miraculously remained afloat during his break for the open sea with the remnants of his force, and got safely home. But the great explosion was still to come. Something had gone wrong with the fuze. It was not till the next day, when a large group of German officers and technicians were inspecting the wreck of the Campbeltown, jammed in the lock gates, that the ship blew up, with devastating force, killing hundreds of Germans and shattering the great lock for the rest of the war. The Germans treated the prisoners, four of whom received the Victoria Cross, with respect, but severe punishment was inflicted on the brave Frenchmen who on the spur of the moment rushed from every quarter to the aid of what they hoped was the vanguard of liberation.
On April 1 it at last became possible for the United States Navy to start a partial convoy system. At first this could be no more than daylight hops of about a hundred and twenty miles between protected anchorages by groups of vessels under escort, and all shipping was brought to a standstill at night. On any one day there were upwards of a hundred and twenty ships requiring protection between Florida and New York. The consequent delays were misfortune in another form. It was not until May 14 that the first fully organised convoy sailed from Hampton Roads for Key West. Thereafter the system was quickly extended northward to New York and Halifax, and by the end of the month the chain along the east coast from Key West northward was at last complete. Relief was immediate, and the losses fell.
Admiral Doenitz forthwith changed his point of attack to the Caribbean and the Gulf of Mexico, where convoys were not yet working. Ranging farther, the U-boats also began to appear off the coast of Brazil and in the St. Lawrence river. It was not until the end of the year that a complete interlocking convoy system covering all these immense areas became fully effective. But June saw an improvement, and the last days of July may be taken as closing the terrible massacre along the American coast. In seven months the Allied losses in the Atlantic from U-boats alone amounted to over three million tons, which included 181 British ships of 1,130,000 tons. Less than one-tenth occurred in convoys. All this cost the enemy up to July no more than fourteen U-boats sunk throughout the Atlantic and Arctic Oceans, and of these kills only six were in North American waters.
Thereafter we regained the initiative. In July alone five U-boats were destroyed off the Atlantic coast, besides six more German and three Italian elsewhere. This total of fourteen for the month, half by convoy escorts, gave us encouragement. It was the best so far achieved; but the number of new boats coming into service each month still exceeded the rate of our kills. Moreover, whenever we began to win Admiral Doenitz shifted his U-boats. With the oceans to play in he could always gain a short period of immunity in a new area. In May a transatlantic convoy lost seven ships, about 700 miles west of Ireland. This was followed by an onslaught near Gibraltar and the reappearance of U-boats around Freetown. Once more Hitler came to our aid by insisting that a group of U-boats should be held ready to ward off an Allied attempt to occupy the Azores or Madeira. His thought in this direction was not altogether misplaced, but his demand coincided with the end of the halcyon days on the American coast.
The U-boat attack was our worst evil. It would have been wise for the Germans to stake all upon it. I remember hearing my father say, “In politics when you have got hold of a good thing, stick to it.” This is also a strategic principle of importance. Just as Goering repeatedly shifted his air targets in the Battle of Britain in 1940, so now the U-boat warfare was to some extent weakened for the sake of competing attractions. Nevertheless it constituted a terrible event in a very bad time.
It will be well here to relate the course of events elsewhere and to record briefly the progress of the Atlantic battle up to the end of 1942.
In August the U-boats turned their attention to the area around Trinidad and the north coast of Brazil, where the ships carrying bauxite to the United States for the aircraft industry and the stream of outwardbound ships with supplies for the Middle East offered the most attractive targets. Others were at work near Freetown; some ranged as far south as the Cape of Good Hope, and a few even penetrated into the Indian Ocean. For a time the South Atlantic caused us anxiety. Here in September and October five large homeward-bound liners sailing independently were sunk, but all our troop transports outward-bound for the Middle East in convoy came through u
nscathed. Among the big ships lost was the Laconia, of nearly 20,000 tons, carrying two thousand Italian prisoners of war to England. Many were drowned.
The main battle was by now once more joined along the great convoy routes in the North Atlantic. The U-boats had already learned to respect the power of the air, and in their new assault they worked almost entirely in the central section, beyond the reach of aircraft based on Iceland and Newfoundland. Two convoys were severely mauled in August, one of them losing eleven ships, and during this month U-boats sank 108 vessels, amounting to over half a million tons. In September and October the Germans reverted to the earlier practice of submerged attack by day. With the larger numbers now working in “wolf packs”, and with our limited resources, serious losses in convoy could not be prevented, and we felt most acutely the lack of enough very long-range (V.L.R.) aircraft in the Coastal Command. Air cover still ranged no more than about six hundred miles from our shore bases, and only about four hundred from Newfoundland, leaving a large unguarded gap in the centre of the Atlantic Ocean where the surface escorts could gain no help from the air. Against this distressing background our airmen did their utmost.
Naval escorts could never range widely from the convoys and break up the heavy concentrations on the flanks. Thus, when the “wolf packs” struck they could saturate our defence. The only remedy was to surround each convoy with enough aircraft to find and force any nearby U-boats to dive, and thus provide an unmolested lane. Even this was not enough. We must seek out and attack them vigorously wherever we could find them, both by sea and air. The aircraft, the trained air crews, and the air weapons were still too few, but we now made a start by forming a “Support Group” of surface forces.
18*
The idea had long been advocated, but the means were lacking. The first of these Support Groups, which later became a most potent factor in the U-boat war, consisted of two sloops, four of the new frigates now coming out of the builders’ yards, and four destroyers. With highly trained and experienced crews and the latest weapons, working independently of the convoy escorts and untrammelled by other responsibilities, their task, in co-operation with the Air, was to seek, hunt, and destroy. In 1943 an aircraft would often guide a Support Group to its prey, the pursuit of one U-boat would disclose others, and a “pack” would be discovered.
Aircraft which would accompany the convoys were also provided. By the end of 1942 six “escort carriers” were in service. Eventually many were built in America, besides others in Great Britain, and the first of them, the Avenger, sailed with a North Russian convoy in September. They made their first effective appearance with the North African convoys in late October. Equipped with naval Swordfish aircraft, they met the need—namely, all-round reconnaissance in depth, independent of land bases, and in intimate collaboration with the surface escorts. Thus by the utmost exertions and ingenuity we began to win; but the power of the enemy was also growing and we had many setbacks.
Between January and October 1942 the number of U-boats had more than doubled. 196 were operational, and our North Atlantic convoys were subjected to fierce and larger packs than ever before. All our escorts had to be cut to the bone for the sake of our main operations in Africa, and in November our losses at sea were the heaviest of the whole war, including 117 ships, of over 700,000 tons, by U-boats alone, and another 100,000 tons from other causes.
So menacing were the conditions in the outer waters that on November 4 I personally convened a new Anti-U-boat Committee. Its power to take far-reaching decisions played no small part in the conflict. In a great effort to lengthen the range of our Radar-carrying Liberator aircraft, we decided to withdraw them from action until the necessary improvements were made. The President at my request sent all suitable American aircraft, fitted with the latest type of Radar, to work from the United Kingdom. We were presently able to resume operations in the Bay of Biscay in greater strength and with far better equipment. All this was to bring its reward in 1943.
CHAPTER IX
AMERICAN NAVAL VICTORIES*
THE CORAL SEA AND MIDWAY ISLAND
STIRRING events affecting the whole course of the war now occurred in the Pacific Ocean. By the end of March the first phase of the Japanese war plan had achieved a success so complete that it surprised even its authors. Japan was master of Hong Kong, Siam, Malaya, and nearly the whole of the immense island region forming the Dutch East Indies. Japanese troops were plunging deeply into Burma. In the Philippines the Americans still fought on at Corregidor, but without hope of relief.
Japanese exultation was at its zenith. Pride in their martial triumphs and confidence in their leadership was strengthened by the conviction that the Western Powers had not the will to fight to the death. Already the Imperial armies stood on the frontiers so carefully chosen in their pre-war plans as the prudent limit of their advance. Within this enormous area, comprising measureless resources and riches, they could consolidate their conquests and develop their newly won power. Their long-prepared scheme had prescribed a pause at this stage to draw breath, to resist an American counter-attack or to organise a further advance. But now in the flush of victory it seemed to the Japanese leaders that the fulfilment of their destiny had come. They must not be unworthy of it. These ideas arose not only from the natural temptations to which dazzling success exposes mortals, but from serious military reasoning. Whether it was wiser to organise their new perimeter thoroughly or by surging forward to gain greater depth for its defence seemed to them a balanced strategic problem.
After deliberation in Tokyo the more ambitious course was adopted. It was decided to extend the grasp outwards to include the Western Aleutians, Midway Island, Samoa, Fiji, New Caledonia, and Port Moresby in Southern New Guinea,† This expansion would threaten Pearl Harbour, still the main American base. It would also, if maintained, sever direct communication between the United States and Australia. It would provide Japan with suitable bases from which to launch further attacks.
The Japanese High Command had shown the utmost skill and daring in making and executing their plans. They started however upon a foundation which did not measure world forces in true proportion. They never comprehended the latent might of the United States. They thought still, at this stage, that Hitler’s Germany would triumph in Europe. They felt in their veins the surge of leading Asia forward to measureless conquests and their own glory. Thus they were drawn into a gamble, which even if it had won would only have lengthened their predominance by perhaps a year, and, as they lost, cut it down by an equal period. In the actual result they exchanged a fairly strong and gripped advantage for a wide and loose domain, which it was beyond their power to hold; and, being beaten in this outer area, they found themselves without the forces to make a coherent defence of their inner and vital zone.
PACIFIC THEATRE
Nevertheless at this moment in the world struggle no one could be sure that Germany would not break Russia, or drive her beyond the Urals, and then be able to come back and invade Britain; or as an alternative spread through the Caucasus and Persia to join hands with the Japanese vanguards in India. To put things right for the Grand Alliance there was needed a decisive naval victory by the United States, carrying with it predominance in the Pacific, even if the full command of that ocean were not immediately established. This victory was not denied us. I had always believed that the command of the Pacific would be regained by the American Navy, with any help we could give from or in the Atlantic, by May. Such hopes were based only upon a computation of American and British new construction, already maturing, of battleships, aircraft-carriers, and other vessels. We may now describe in a necessarily compressed form the brilliant and astonishing naval battle which asserted this majestic fact in an indisputable form.
At the end of April 1942 the Japanese High Command began their new policy of expansion. This was to include the capture of Port Moresby and the seizure of Tulagi, in the Southern Solomons, opposite the large island of Guadalcanal. The occupation of Port Moresb
y would complete the first stage of their domination of New Guinea and give added security to their advanced naval base at Rabaul, in New Britain. From New Guinea and from the Solomons they could begin the envelopment of Australia.
American Intelligence quickly became aware of a Japanese concentration in these waters. Forces were observed to be assembling at Rabaul from their main naval base at Truk, in the Caroline Islands, and a southward drive was clearly imminent. It was even possible to forecast May 3 as the date when operations would begin. The American aircraft-carriers were at this time widely dispersed on various missions. These included the launching of General Doolittle’s bold and spectacular air attack against Tokyo itself on April 18. This event may indeed have been a factor in determining the new Japanese policy.
Conscious of the threat in the south, Admiral Nimitz at once began to assemble the strongest possible force in the Coral Sea. Rear-Admiral Fletcher was already there, with the carrier Yorktown and three heavy cruisers. On May 1 he was joined by the carrier Lexington and two more cruisers from Pearl Harbour under Rear-Admiral Fitch, and three days later by a squadron commanded by a British officer, Rear-Admiral Crace, which comprised the Australian cruisers Australia and Hobart and the American cruiser Chicago. The only other carriers immediately available, the Enterprise and the Hornet, had been engaged in the Tokyo raid, and though they were sent south as rapidly as possible they could not join Admiral Fletcher until the middle of May. Before then the impending battle had been fought.
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