Breakout

by John Deanne Potter

  The cold was intense. The winter mists of Brest had given place to the sub-arctic conditions of a North German winter as Scharnhorst, twice mined, her crew red-eyed with fatigue after twenty-three hours almost continuously at action stations, came creeping at last past the Jade towards Wilhelmshaven.

  When they arrived off Germany's principal naval base the sea was freezing hard and the ice was packing into great cakes. Watching the thick ice and the fast running tide, Scharnhorst's navigator, Helmuth Giessler, realized that now the battle was not only against the British — who might find them again now it was light — but against the weather.

  It would not be high water at Wilhelmshaven until noon. Only then would the tugs be able to take her through the difficult sluice gates into harbour. Then the message came from Naval Group North: "Es gibt keine Schlepper" — "There won't be any tugs." Without their assitance Scharnhorst might have to remain outside the harbour, exposed to attacks.

  Captain Hoffmann stood on the bridge contemplating sea and sky from which an attack might be expected any minute and took his last great decision. He turned to Giessler and said calmly. "I will take her in — without tugs."

  With the ship's telegraphs constantly ringing and a half a turn of a screw here and a half a turn there, Hoffmann began to guide his ship towards the sluice. Directed by his skilled hands, the great battleship began slowly to crunch her way, foot by foot, through the ice floes towards the waiting lock gates. With the screws barely turning and the exhausted men on the bridge holding their breaths, the sharp prow of Scharnhorst entered the sluice gates with only inches to spare. As her sleek, shark-nosed hull crept past the groups of longshoremen standing among the ice-encrusted bollards on the jetfy, they broke into loud cheers.

  The seamanship Captain Hoffmann had learned since the day he entered the German Navy forty years before prevailed. When she tied up, he nodded briefly to the officer of the watch, Wilhelm Wolf, who rang through to Chief Engineer Walther Kretschmer, "Finished with engines."

  As Giessler began to fold up his charts a signal from Ciliax was tapped out to Admiral Saalwächter in Paris. It said: "It is my duty to inform you that Operation Cerberus has been successfully completed. Lists of damage and casualties follow."

  It was over. The Scharnhorst had come home.

  One of the first to go ashore was Colonel Max Ibel, the Luftwaffe liaison officer aboard Scharnhorst. "I have had enough," he told Admiral Ciliax. "What is my bill for the ride?"

  Later in the morning Ciliax received reports from his destroyer captains as one by one they sailed into the German estuaries. The German losses were seventeen Luftwaffe planes, two torpedo boats, Jaguar and T.13, damaged by bombs, two dead and several German sailors seriously wounded by bomb splinters and machine-gun fire. That was all.

  In the afternoon, the Admiral who had sat in the same cabin in Brest nearly forty-eight hours earlier writing his doubts about the operation's success, made this entry in his war diary: "The enemy betrayed his surprise, to the advantage of our formation, by throwing in his air forces precipitously and without plan. For the failure of the enemy air force to reach the target during the afternoon and evening in spite of the extreme determination shown in their first torpedo attack, we have to thank the ship-borne flak and the fine services of our fighter cover."

  The attack of Esmonde's Swordfish was described by him as, "The mothball attack of a handful of ancient planes, piloted by men whose bravery surpasses any other action by either side that day.''

  At 2:15 p.m. all hands were piped aft to hear an address by Admiral Ciliax. It was not received with much enthusiasm. The sailors felt it did not come well from the Admiral who had just that morning retaken possession of his Admiral's quarters. There was a definite feeling in Schamhorst that Ciliax had left them to drown if necessary. Although that might have been just the ignorance of sailors, there was no doubt that the peppery "Black Czar" had almost totally failed to command the operation. This was mainly due to his jumping aboard the destroyer Z.29 too quickly when his flagship hit the first RAF mine in the afternoon. But an even more puzzling decision was when he did not reboard her but the destroyer Hermann Schoemann, when his own flagship, steaming normally, almost ran him down in the cutter.

  Two hours later, the Fleet C-in-C Admiral Schniewind, who made it his business to be at Wilhelmshaven when the Scharnhorst tied up there, also harangued the weary sailors. These speeches by Ciliax and Schniewind were delivered aft on the quarter-deck where 2,000 could be mustered. Both admirals stood under the long barrels of Turret "C" for "Caesar" on the traditional "Palaverkiste" — Speaker's rostrum.

  By 4 p.m. the camouflage netting was being unwound and a tired ship's company were making Scharnhorst snug and safe for the night at her Wilhelmshaven anchorage.

  Captain Hoffmann was still writing his report in his day cabin, when a visitor rushed in without knocking and flung herself into his arms crying, "Papa, papa!" It was his 17-year-old daughter Elly who had heard the news and come on ahead of her mother, due next day from Bremen. As the orderly brought tea and Captain Hoffmann sat back to listen to the family news, she gave him one item which was especially welcome-his son Heinz, a U-boat officer, was safe and well.

  The next day all Germany rejoiced over the feat, but officers and men of all three ships were too tired to share in the exultation.

  In England, the first news of the break-out was given in a story in the early editions on Friday, 13 February. The Daily Mail said: "One of the fiercest and most mysterious duels in the Straits of Dover was fought out yesterday between British and German long-range guns and between RAF bombers and fighters and German interceptor aircraft. Wave after wave of our own bombers crossed the Kent coast to attack what is believed to have been a German convoy passing through the Channel.

  "Last night Berlin radio revealed that Swordfish torpedo bombers with heavy fighter protection had taken part in the battle, but no clue as to the identity of the target was given. The official German news agency claimed seven Swordfish were shot down in battles off the coast and the formation was turned back."

  The next editions carried a stop-press: "The Scharnhorst, Gneisenau and Prinz Eugen with heavy sea and air support were attacked near the Straits of Dover — official."

  At 1:40 a.m. a joint Admiralty and Air Force communiqué gave some details of the action. It said: "The German ships strongly escorted by surface vessels and aircraft were making a break from Brest to Heligoland. Attacks were pressed home with the greatest determination and hits are believed to have been made on all three ships."

  XIII

  THE WHITEHALL WHITEWASH

  The resentful anger that already reigned in Dover Castle was soon to spill over into a major row that shook the nation, causing a crisis of confidence in Churchill's wartime government.

  Most of the RAF officers blamed the day's disaster upon the fact that very few pilots really knew what they were looking for. These included those in 42 Beaufort Squadron, who had nearly torpedoed Captain Pizey's flagship Campbell.

  Sq. Ldr. Roger Frankland, controller at Coltishall recalls, "They tried to torpedo our own ships because of ridiculous secrecy. I have never heard anyone so rude as the leader of 42 Squadron of Beauforts on the phone to a group captain. He was hopping mad. He said, "I was sent looking for a convoy. Why was I not told about the bloody great battleships?"

  His complaint was echoed by most pilots. At some airfields the confusion remained until after dark. Late that evening one fighter pilot sergeant landed at Martlesham after a North Sea patrol and said in amazement, "What's going on? I have just seen a huge battleship." He had found himself over the battleships but did not know what they were — because he had still received no briefing.

  The blame must lie right at the top between 11 Fighter Group Commander Air Vice-Marshal Leigh-Mallory and Coastal Command Chief Philip Joubert. Both of them were career officers of the old-fashioned type, slightly out of touch with the sudden emergencies of World War II air warfare.
Leigh-Mallory was not personally very popular and many officers called him a "pompous, ambitious fuddy-duddy."

  While the squadrons wrote their gloomy entries in the records one officer did more — Flt.-Lt. Kidd was as good as his word. He and Sq. Ldrs. Igoe and Oxspring were the three RAF officers who had realized instantly that the ships sighted were the German battleships.

  Kidd sat up all night preparing a furious report attacking the whole British defence. He criticized the handling of the entire operation, particularly condemning the High Command. His letter read:

  "I have the honour to request that consideration be given to the following views and to the alternative applications that follow them:

  "The passage through the Straits of Dover of an enemy squadron in defiance of our sea and air power is tantamount to the infliction upon us of a major defeat. That defeat is the more serious in that it is in essence a naval one and follows closely upon the loss of the Repulse, Prince of Wales, Barham and Ark Royal. The confidence and hopes of Englishmen down the centuries has been focused upon our sea power. To us no joy is greater, no memory more lasting, than that of a naval victory and no bitterness, no loss of pride, can equal that which follows naval defeat. The effect on the public not only here but abroad of this latest successful challenge to our naval supremacy will be profound.

  "It has been a common fault of ours in recent years to put too much blame on others, to put too much reliance on our friends, particularly the United States of America, and to give too little credit to our enemies for their power and their cunning. We have won victories over many in the past; we did not do so by belittling them and their efforts but by defeating them.

  "Reverse has followed reverse in this war and after each, excuses have been made, 'The Norwegians and Dutch would not collaborate with us,' 'The Germans violated international law,' 'The Belgians betrayed us and the French deserted us;' Solium and Halfaya were described as places of no strategical importance, yet much British blood was shed in the attempt to recapture them. In Greece we were defeated because we had no airfields, in Crete we were driven out because the enemy operating from Greek airfields made Malemi and the other Cretan aerodromes untenable. Malaya was lost, it was stated, because of the defection of the Siamese. Why the need for all this humbug? The plain fact is that we are never ready anywhere, we do not organize, we do not plan ahead.

  The wastage in manpower and in the national industrial effort has been and still is nothing short of a gross scandal.

  "The inertia, that corrupt and sordid paralysis that gripped the members of the House of Commons when Baldwin first declared he would accept full responsibility' still prevails, and is to be found everywhere in the government of our affairs, it has crept through Government department after department and has seeped into the Services themselves. It has been likened to a dead hand, a hand that damps the ardour of the citizens, that numbs all effort and that is beginning to chill all hope itself. Let us rouse ourselves and grapple with realities while there is still time.

  "Why did the German battle-cruisers get through? Let a straight answer be given and as much benefit as possible be derived from the occurrence. The answer is not that the plan to stop them was badly executed or that it miscarried; the real trouble is that there was no plan at all. We relied far too much on a hasty improvisation. The conclusions drawn from a day spent in the Naval Operations Room at Dover are as follows:

  "(a) No adequate comprehensive plans were made to ensure destruction of the German battle-cruisers in the event of their leaving Brest. There is no excuse for this negligence on the part of the War Cabinet and on the part of those serving them.

  "Plans should have been devised to provide against every conceivable contingency. Our Intelligence Service had given ample warning that the ships were about to leave and that it was probable they would sail up the Channel. At least seven destroyers had passed through the Straits of Dover on their way South to Brest during the three weeks immediately preceding the departure of the big ships. There had been increasing enemy shipping activity in the Straits of Dover prior to the 12th February 1942, and this activity, particularly noticeable in connection with minesweeping, reached its peak on the night of the 11th February. Three plans should have been made, one to cover the enemy convoy located moving west from Brest, another to provide for the enemy being located leaving Brest, or just having left Brest and proceeding east, and a third to be put into execution should the enemy succeed in making good his escape from Brest undetected and being located either by aerial reconnaissance or otherwise on his way up channel. These plans should have been sub-divided to guard against varying weather conditions. The attack, wherever it might take place and whatever the conditions that might prevail, should have been properly co-ordinated. Strict control over the parts played by the three Services should have been exercised and the maximum benefit derived either from the presence of the large enemy ships in narrow waters close to our air and sea bases or, if they went the other way, from their enforced absence from the protection of shore-based fighters. The fact remains that at no time was the enemy subjected to a really heavy and sustained weight of attack capable of impeding his progress.

  "(b) There was no adequate aerial or sea reconnaissance, both of which should have been a matter of daily routine.

  "(c) There was a lack of some properly appointed body whose duty it should have been to collect from all sources, assimilate and pass out to those concerned, information concerning the three ships or any one of them. The jamming by enemy interference of our radio location on the morning of the 12th and the reports of weather favourable to the enemy to effect a break-through might, if concentrated in the hands of such a body, have alone given a sufficient indication of the enemy's intentions. This body could have done invaluable work during the course of the action by making sure that all services, groups and units received the same information and that each knew what the other was doing. Had the Naval Staff of Dover known earlier of the circling plots seen by location stations, some action would in all probability have been then and there originated, which would have led to the discovery of the enemy squadron sooner than it was in fact made.

  "(d) The presence of the ships was perceived at 10:45 a.m. and was at such extreme range that it was immediately concluded that if the ships were not the battle-cruisers, then it was something very exceptional and almost certainly worth attacking. No attack, however, was carried out until over an hour and three-quarters later, and then by very light naval forces only operating without air support.

  "(e) This was the chance which Fighter Command had been waiting for for over a year, for there existed a state of affairs that they had done their utmost to provoke during that time, that is to say a large number of enemy aircraft flying well within the range of our fighters and at both a numerical and strategical disadvantage. Yet nevertheless the effort of our fighter squadrons was made far too late, and when it came it was badly directed, in so far as many of the squadrons failed to reach their objective, although it was being plotted by the most accurate means known to science. By the time the attack was made, much of the tactical advantage that had been ours had slipped away and we were forced to operate nearer the enemy's bases than our own.

  "(f) Coastal Command before as after the escape failed utterly to appreciate the situation. This failure may to no small extent be attributed to the lack of a precise plan of action common to the services and commands, but the fact remains that upon them greatly depended the chance of obtaining early warning of the departure of the ships, and also of an early attack upon them being executed. Yet it was 16 Group who complained that the attack was made by the Swordfish aircraft, 'without waiting for the Beauforts.' Battles are not won by procrastination, and the low speed of the Swordfish aircraft made it impracticable for them in the circumstances to carry out a joint attack with the Beauforts, which were over twice as fast. The Swordfish attacked when they did so that advantage could be taken of the accurate information of the position of
the ships then available, and so that they might operate near their own coast and as close to their base as possible. The suggestion that the attack should be postponed is indicative of the failure to grasp the salient point that speed was an essential feature of the operation. Coastal Command, charged with the responsibility of keeping guard, let the Germans go and bungled the subsequent attack.

  "(g) It was reported that pilots of Beauforts which landed at Manston to obtain more torpedoes were told supplies were not available. A number of Beaufort pilots ordered into action had never fired a torpedo. Such a state of affairs defies comment and only seems to lay stress on that need for forethought, the lack of which characterized the entire proceedings.

  "(h) Owing to lack of co-operation between the Navy and Air Force, the naval light forces attacked without air support, a support which would have greatly facilitated their task.

  "(i) Of the fighter squadrons — eleven in all — detailed to assist and protect the Swordfish only one squadron made the rendezvous and others did not even find the ships. The Swordfish, when actually making the attack, were almost unescorted and were subjected to the concentrated A.A. fire of every German gun that could be brought to bear.

  "(j) It is quite untrue that bad weather enabled the German ships to escape; the weather, anyway until 2:45, four hours after the first plot had been received, was not such as should have affected our operations adversely to any appreciable extent. The weather reports which the Germans obtained were equally if not more readily available to us. If the enemy knew the weather favoured the attempt, we also should have appreciated that the conditions were such as would proffer the chance he needed, and we should have tightened our watch upon him and made our dispositions accordingly.

  "(k) Again owing to the absence of a clear-cut plan, our forces were scattered and unprepared and their efforts were ineffective. At no time was their combined weight felt by the enemy. We dissipated our power in a series of costly and ill-conceived attacks against a powerful and fully expectant enemy. The enemy had as usual planned carefully ahead, we had not. Of over 250 bombers employed only 37 located the target and some of these are believed to have bombed our own ships. All this despite the fact that the most accurate information as to the position of the enemy was available at Dover. Of the fighters we sent out, the value of a high proportion was lost as they were not as efficiently controlled as they should have been. There were too many water-tight compartments, too many persons and units trying to act independently of one another, each relying on his or their own source instead of on the best source of information which should have been supplied by some central organization.