by Ross Kemp
Within days of the evacuation of Dunkirk in May 1940, Churchill had sent a memorandum to his Chiefs of Staff asking how they might bring down a ‘reign of terror’ on German forces in occupied territories. Aware that it would be many years before the UK was ready to launch a full-scale fightback in Nazi-occupied Europe, the Prime Minister was eager to maintain an aggressive strategy. ‘The completely defensive habit of mind which has ruined the French must not be allowed to ruin all our initiative. It is of the highest consequence to keep the largest numbers of German forces all along the coasts of the countries they have conquered, and we should immediately set to work to organise raiding forces on these coasts where the populations are friendly. Such forces might be composed of self-contained, thoroughly equipped units . . . How wonderful it would be if the Germans could be made to wonder where they were going to be struck next instead of forcing us to try to wall in the Island and roof it over!’
Churchill called these proposed elite units ‘striking companies’, and his Chiefs of Staff gave his impassioned suggestion a cautious welcome. Some of them were old enough to recall the Boer War forty years earlier – no doubt with some discomfort – when bands of a few dozen irregulars succeeded in tying down thousands of British troops. Churchill certainly remembered the Boer guerrillas well. As a war correspondent, he was captured by them in an ambush and held as a POW before managing to escape. When the draft proposal from his planners landed on his desk, containing the words ‘Kommando-style’, Churchill had no hesitation in rubber-stamping it. Knowing that Britain was unable to launch an invasion on his Western flank, Hitler concentrated his resources on the eastern and southern fronts of his rapidly expanding empire. The defences along the west coasts of Europe were barely upgraded and it was this weakness that the Commandos looked to exploit.
Work to raise the new Commando units within a ‘Special Service Brigade’ under the command of Combined Operations began almost immediately. The highly regarded Brigadier Joseph Charles Haydon, who a few months earlier had organised a special mission to evacuate the Dutch royal family, was handed the task of overseeing the creation of a new elite force within the British Army. He handpicked eleven commanders and left it to them to choose their junior officers and NCOs so that each unit would have its own distinct identity and stamp of its commander’s personality.
Overeagerness to put Commandos into action at the earliest possible date led to the failure of two pinprick raids on Boulogne and Guernsey. Hastily planned and poorly executed by troops lacking sufficient training and suitable equipment, the Commando initiative hardly got off to a flying start. The general feeling back in Whitehall was that if that was the best our elite forces could manage, then Hitler could laugh himself to sleep at night. The almost comic shortcomings and mishaps of the raids demonstrated the need for much harder training, higher fitness levels, superior weapons and kit and improved means of transporting the units to and from the target site.
In March 1941, Operation CLAYMORE, the first large-scale Commando raid, was launched. The aim of the raid was to destroy the fish oil factories on the Lofoten Islands in northern Norway. Fish oil was an important commodity for the Germans: it provided Vitamin A which was vital for the health of their U-boat crews who were causing such havoc among Allied shipping out in the Atlantic. The crews went weeks without seeing daylight, and fish oil was the perfect substitute. The oil was also important for the production of nitro-glycerine in the manufacturing of explosives. Much planning went into the assault that involved two full Commandos – roughly 1,000 men – and seven Royal Navy vessels. The Commandos stormed ashore, but to widespread disappointment, they met no resistance. The operation was a success of sorts. They destroyed their targets, suffered no casualties, sunk 18,000 tons of shipping, captured 200 German prisoners and gathered 300 volunteers to join the Free Norwegian Forces. But to sceptics of the Commando enterprise, the returns did not justify the huge logistical effort and the deployment of scarce resources and elite troops. (Operation CLAYMORE proved to be a more important moment in the war than it seemed at the time. A set of rotor wheels for an Enigma cypher machine and its code books were seized from the German armed trawler Krebs, which helped the scientists at Bletchley Park to break German naval codes.)
Unaware of this crucial development, the top brass of the three services looked upon CLAYMORE as a waste of scarce resources. Each service had its own sound reasons for not wanting to commit to the Commando cause: the Army resented the release of some of its best officers and men, the Navy was reluctant to free warships from other more pressing tasks and the RAF was eager to concentrate on hitting targets they considered to be of greater importance. Another problem with the Commando experiment was Admiral Keyes, the director of Combined Operations, an abrasive character who clashed regularly with the Chiefs of Staff. Though a close personal friend, Churchill knew he had to replace him. His choice of successor was a bold gamble. Lord Louis Mountbatten, a cousin of the King, was well-regarded within the Royal Navy but he was only a Captain, and would be taking his seat around a table of Generals, Admirals and Air Marshals. In the event, it proved to be an inspirational move by Churchill. A character of great charm, energy and daring, Mountbatten’s arrival at Combined Operations HQ led to smoother cooperation between the three services and a significant ramping-up of operational activity.
Encouraged by the qualified success of CLAYMORE, large-scale raids that would cause significant damage to enemy operations became the priority at COHQ. Planners pored over maps of Europe’s Western coastline from Spain to the Arctic, searching for a target that met all the criteria laid down. The target had to be a) vital to the German war effort, b) no more than a mile from the sea, c) offer good coastline for the amphibious landing of troops, d) present good intelligence of enemy numbers and defences and e) located away from areas with heavy concentrations of troops.
One location stood out from the list: Vaagso. At first glance, a small fishing community on an open-ended fjord halfway up the Norwegian coast towards the Arctic Circle might not appear to be the most urgent objective in the middle of a world war, but Vaagso fitted the bill on all counts. As Norway’s main processing centre of fish oil, it was a vital asset. It also had the added attraction of being within reach of RAF bases in Scotland, which could give air cover to the raiding party and the naval force. The main objective of the operation was to destroy the processing factories, but to do that the force would first have to destroy the enemy’s main defences. The most important of these were four coastal gun batteries on the island of Maaloy, 500 yards from the town, guarding the mouth of the fjord. Two other coastal batteries and a torpedo station also required elimination.
The official intention of Operation ARCHERY as stated in the planning documents was ‘to carry out a raid on military and economic objectives in the vicinity of Vaagso island with the object of harassing the coastal defences of S.W. Norway and diverting the attention of the enemy Naval and Air Forces from Operation ANKLET.’ This simultaneous operation was considered to be the more important of the two. Comprising a much larger force of twenty vessels, one Commando plus a contingent of Norwegian troops, its objective was the Lofoten Islands, 100 miles north of the Arctic Circle. The plan was for it to remain there for several weeks; it was to cut off German sea lanes, sweep the coastline, harassing convoys, and interrupt shipments of iron ore, another natural resource vital to the enemy war effort. A twin operation, it was hoped, would divide enemy resources and give each a greater chance of success. The plans were received enthusiastically at the Admiralty, which wanted to put on a show of strength in Norwegian waters to rattle the German High Command. The jagged coastline of Norway, with its myriad inlets, fjords and islands, allowed German shipping to move around largely unmolested, and provided an ideal base for harassing Allied convoys carrying vital supplies to Russia around the northern Cape through the perilous waters of the Arctic.
On 6 December, Rear Admiral Harold Burrough was appointed to take charge of naval fo
rces responsible for the deployment of ships and bombardment of coastal defences during ARCHERY. Brigadier Haydon, the Military Forces Commander, was to oversee the operation on land. They had just three weeks before the scheduled date for the raid to finalise their plans. For his principal assault force, Haydon chose 3 Commando, led by Lt Colonel John Durnford-Slater, officially the very first Commando. Two troops from 1st Norwegian Independent Company, commanded by Captain Martin Linge, would also be deployed, while two troops from 2 Commando were to be held as a floating reserve. Detachments from the Royal Engineers and Royal Army Medical Corps would team up with the assault troops. In total, the raiding party amounted to 51 officers and 525 other ranks. The naval force comprised seven ships and a submarine. The Colony-class cruiser HMS Kenya was to be the headquarters of the operation as well as the principal bombardment ship. With a main armament of twelve 6-inch guns and a battery of smaller guns, it packed a formidable punch. The rest of the force was made up of four destroyers, HMS Onslow, HMS Oribi, HMS Offa and HMS Chiddingfold, the T-Class submarine HMS Tuna and two ships’ transporters, HMS Prince Leopold and HMS Prince Charles. The destroyers were to engage enemy ships and vessels and positions ashore and provide anti-aircraft fire. Tuna was tasked with guiding the force into the fjord.
With the raid taking place in broad daylight and with little room to manoeuvre in the tight confines of the fjord, the ships were going to be vulnerable to air attack. Anti-aircraft fire alone would not be enough to see off the threat of divebombers. They were as good as sitting ducks for the Luftwaffe pilots. Air cover was essential, the RAF role crucial to the outcome. The two nearest bases in Scotland, Sumburgh on Shetland and Wick on the mainland, were 250 and 400 miles away respectively. Fuel was a major issue and the margins were extremely fine. The plan was to rotate four squadrons of Beaufighter and Blenheim fighters, each arriving to a strict timetable so that the naval force was exposed for the shortest period of time possible. In addition, ten Hampden bombers were assigned to attack enemy gun installations, six Stirling bombers were to hit Luftwaffe airfields at Herdla and Stavanger, and nineteen Blenheim bombers were to attack airfields and coastal shipping to draw off Luftwaffe resources and prevent them from attacking the assault force at Vaagso.
The Commandos were split into five groups with Group 2 handed the toughest task of leading the raid into the town of South Vaagso itself. In the final plans, the objects of ARCHERY are stated as:
To destroy or capture enemy troops and equipment
To destroy enemy industrial plants
To seize documents, codes and instruments
To arrest Quislings (collaborators known as Quislings after Vidkun Quisling, Hitler’s puppet ruler in Norway)
To withdraw Norwegian volunteers for the Free Forces
With only five hours between sunrise and sunset, timing would be critical. The Commandos were to carry ashore all the weapons and ammo they would need for a day’s hard fighting. Most of the men carried the standard infantry Lee Enfield rifle with long bayonet (and 100 rounds), but a handful were issued Thompson ‘Tommy’ machine guns. All men carried Mills bomb hand grenades and the Fairbanks-Sykes Commando dagger. Bren gun crews and mortar detachments provided the heavy firepower on the ground. There was no chance of resupply during the action. All men were to help carry ashore the Bren magazines and mortars during the landings.
III Commando had been in intensive training for months at their camp at Largs on the West Coast of Scotland, concentrating specifically on amphibious landing operations. The men knew a major operation was in the offing but they had no idea where or when it would take place. Rumours swept through the wooden barracks when the daily exercise programme was suddenly intensified in the first half of December. Speculation turned to near-certainty when the 500-strong unit embarked in two troopships on the Clyde and steamed for Scapa Flow in the Orkneys, the base of the Royal Navy’s Home Fleet during the war. Two full-blown rehearsals involving all three services took place before Brigadier Haydon summoned his officers and NCOs and unveiled details of the operation. After months of hard training and a mounting hunger for action, there was a palpable buzz of excitement below deck when the news reached the men.
The planners at COHQ had built a full-scale, minutely detailed model of South Vaagso based on recce photos and intelligence. Every building, street, alley and natural landmark was featured. While the companies of the seven ships refuelled, loaded the magazines with shells and stored away the final shipments of provisions, each of the five Commando groups took it in turns to pore over the intricate model and run through the tasks they had been assigned. What they saw was a miniature version of a hilly island, eight miles long by four wide, situated on the west coast of Norway and facing onto the North Sea at the mouth of a fjord known as Vaagsfjord. Roughly 250 miles from the capital Oslo and 500 miles from the northernmost tip of mainland Scotland, it is one of thousands of islands along the coast, surrounded by a maze of waterways and inlets. It is separated from the mainland by a narrow stretch of water known as the Ulvesund that runs for five miles between the north and south exits to the North Sea.
Most of the island’s 2,500-strong population lived in South Vaagso, the main town and home to the fish-processing factories concentrated on quays along the waterfront. The main street, running parallel to the coast for almost a mile, formed the spine of the community with a few smaller streets and lanes branching out towards the steeply rising hills of the interior. A few hundred yards to the east of Vaagso lies the much smaller island of Maaloy, where the Germans had built the gun batteries to guard the southern entrance of the Ulvesund. The area was defended by troops of the German 181st Division, amounting to around 250 men as well as 50 sailors.
On 22 December the large force detailed for Operation ANKLET set sail from Scapa into an ominously gathering sea for the longer passage to the Lofotens. The men of 3 Commando completed their last rehearsal and ran through their final checks for the first-ever large-scale operation involving all three services undertaken by the British armed forces. Operation ARCHERY was also Britain’s first major incursion into Nazi-occupied Europe since Dunkirk eighteen months earlier, the first step in a gruelling fightback against the most powerful military force the world had ever seen. In one respect, ARCHERY was just a sideshow next to the titanic struggles of the Eastern Front, the North Africa campaign and the Atlantic convoys, but a great deal was riding on its outcome: the lives of 2,000 servicemen, the future of Combined Operations, the reputation of the newly formed Commandos and the morale of a battered, despondent British public reeling under the hellish bombardment of the Blitz. Failure was not an option.
It was an inauspicious start to the operation. When the seven ships of the raiding force slipped the sheltered sanctuary of Scapa Flow at 2215 on Christmas Eve, they steamed out into the teeth of a Force 8 gale. Heading for Sullom Voe, an anchorage 150 miles to the northeast in Shetland, the flotilla was battered by crashing waves and roaring winds. It was a particularly difficult passage for the two troopships, Prince Leopold and Prince Charles, which were tossed around in the churning seas like corks. Below deck, Commandos heaved and vomited and clung on as the ships lurched from side to side, up and down. No one slept a wink. There was no let-up in the storm for twelve hours. By the time they reached the calmer waters of Shetland at noon on Christmas Day, both ships had each taken on over 120 tons of water, most of it in the forward compartments where the flooding reached 14 feet. Both former North Sea Ferries had been damaged and needed emergency repairs. Rear Admiral Burrough had no choice but to postpone the operation by twenty-four hours. Christmas dinner was eaten at anchor, not on the open sea as planned.
When all repairs were completed by 1400 the following day, the winds had begun to drop and, to the relief of the commanders, the weather forecast they received was far more promising. Burrough gave the order to move out at 1600. Operation ARCHERY would launch at dawn, 27 December 1941. Before setting out, the assault force received a surprise visitor. Mou
ntbatten was piped aboard Kenya where he delivered a short but inspirational address. Conscious that most of the men before him had never experienced combat, he warned them not to be too soft on their opponents, recalling the day his ship, HMS Kelly, was sunk off Crete, when the Germans machine-gunned his men in the water. ‘There’s absolutely no need to treat them gently on my account,’ he said.
The weather was still fairly lively at the start of their passage across the North Sea, but it improved rapidly and by the time they closed on the Norwegian coast, conditions were excellent. Having made contact with HMS Tuna, Burrough lined up his ships as planned and, still shrouded in darkness, the force edged towards the southern end of Vaagso. But for the odd word on the bridge of the ships and whispered words of encouragement below deck on the troopships, the 2,000 men slid quietly towards their target. The one sound that the commanders wanted to hear was that of approaching RAF aircraft. Sure enough, bang on time, the distinctive hum of Hampden bombers began to fill the still, wintry air. Their target was the giant gun emplacement on the island of Rugsundo, eight miles to the east up Nordfjord, one of Norway’s most beautiful and famous fjords. The AA guns stayed silent. The British presence had so far passed unnoticed.
Or so Burrough thought. In fact, the ships had been spotted by a lookout who immediately telegraphed the harbourmaster at South Vaagso to raise the alarm. The sleepy harbourmaster brushed aside the eager lookout’s anxieties. ‘Relax, it’s nothing,’ he told him, ‘a convoy is expected this morning.’ The idea of a squadron of Royal Navy ships having the audacity to slip into the narrow waterways of the well-defended coastline verged on madness . . . But dim flashes soon lit up the northern horizon and the thud of explosions from the bombing raid at Rugsundo echoed down the water. Ack-ack tracer streaked skywards, criss-crossing the dark sky. In their barracks and billets, the German troops were either asleep or slowly starting to wash and dress. At this time of year, the sun did not rise till ten o’clock. The fleet edged into the fjord, dwarfed by the steepling snow-blanketed cliffs and mountains. Brigadier Haydon said later that he felt as if he could stretch out his arms and touch the walls of the narrow waterway. Others said it was like entering a dark tunnel. Tense with anticipation, the silence was unnerving for the Commandos as they stood on deck by their landing crafts, breathing steam into their cupped hands and moving from foot to foot to counter the bitter cold. They all knew that within minutes the peace was going to be shattered in the most spectacular fashion.