Night Raid

by Taylor Downing

  On 20 February, both Cox and Vernon were summoned to the Air Ministry. There, Cox reported back to Air Commodore Tait that he was very impressed with Vernon and that he thought that together they would be able to dismantle the German apparatus for transport back to London. But first of all, before taking it apart, they had to photograph the entire unit. Vernon was asked if he was familiar with the Leica 35mm camera. Fortunately, he was. He was asked if he had taken photographs using a flash attachment with the camera. Fortunately, he had. Vernon was issued with a Leica, given a few rolls of 35mm film and told to practise using the flash at night. On the raid itself, there would be no time to change rolls of film, so he was told to load the camera with a single roll. He would have only the thirty-six exposures on that roll to photograph the Würzburg in its entirety.

  While Cox was at the Air Ministry, R.V. Jones asked to see him for a private conversation. Jones had realised that as the sole RAF man on the mission, Cox would stand out in his blue uniform, if captured, and would attract special attention from German interrogators. So Jones asked the War Office to dress Cox in an army uniform and to give him military papers with an army registration number. The War Office adamantly refused to do this, claiming they could not break official rules and make a man from another service a temporary member of the British Army. Concerned about this, Jones felt it was his duty to meet Cox and warn him that although he had tried to get him out of his RAF uniform, he should be aware of the risks he faced if he were captured.2

  ‘Yes, I’ve been thinking about that, sir,’ Cox responded. He had come up with his own cover story. He would explain to an interrogator that he was in fact the dispatcher from the Whitley bomber aiding the paratroopers in their jump, and in a moment of confusion he had jumped by mistake with the soldiers.

  Jones had to admit to Cox that although it was a clever ruse, he doubted if the Germans would ‘wear that one’. Cox, sadly, agreed that this was probably the case. Jones felt a sense of responsibility to the young RAF radar mechanic who was risking his life to carry out the mission that Jones had instigated. ‘Don’t be worried too much about physical torture,’ he explained, ‘because I don’t think they are using it.’ He continued, ‘What you have to be tremendously careful about is being thrown into solitary confinement in a cold damp cell, with nothing but bread and water for a few days. Then a new German officer will come and protest about the way you are being treated. He will take you out of your cell and will explain that he will try to make amends for your bad treatment. He will give you cigarettes, a decent meal, a warm fire and something to drink. After a while you will feel such a glow and so grateful to this very decent officer that when he starts asking you questions you will hardly be able to resist telling him everything he wants to know.’

  Cox listened in silence to what he was being told. Jones summed it up by saying ‘So, for God’s sake, Cox, be on your guard against any German officer who is kind to you.’

  After the short lecture Cox stood to attention and said, ‘I can stand a lot of kindness, sir.’ Then he saluted the scientist and departed. Jones was left in his office reflecting on the impressive courage of the man who had volunteered for this dangerous mission. He hoped desperately that Cox would come back from it safely to see his wife and baby again.

  While they were at the Air Ministry, Cox and Vernon were also given advice on how to evade capture if the raid went badly. The officials told them about the existence of the French underground networks, which were already well practised in smuggling shot-down airmen out of France. They explained that many local villagers or farmers might risk their lives by offering to hide the men. The pair were told to memorise two addresses in France and one in Switzerland, and were given a password to use if they could reach these addresses. Finally they were given maps of France printed on fine silk along with miniature compasses hidden in collar studs. Cox came away from the briefing feeling that everything had been planned down to the last detail and he was lucky to be part of such an important and special mission.3

  As a final back-up in case everything else went wrong, it was decided to send a scientist from TRE, Donald Preist, on the final stage of the mission. Preist had been at Bawdsey from the early days of radar development and was one of the pioneering engineers who had developed the Chain Home Low system. As one of the TRE specialists in radar he knew about the interest in the Würzburg. In mid February the Air Ministry telephoned him out of the blue and asked him to go across to the headquarters of the Airborne Division at Syrencote House.4

  Confused as to why he should be asked to visit a parachute unit, Preist drove across to Airborne headquarters and was welcomed by the genial Major Bromley-Martin, who announced he had arrived just in time for lunch. Preist was sat next to General Browning, whom he had never heard of before, but he quickly became aware that Browning was widely respected by everyone else present. After lunch Bromley-Martin showed Preist the aerial photograph of the parabolic dish on the cliff top at Bruneval. He explained that a paratrooper raid was being planned to seize the equipment. ‘Would you like to come along?’ asked the affable major.

  ‘I certainly would,’ replied Preist. ‘When do we start?’

  ‘Come back in a couple of days and we’ll train you in parachute jumping,’ said the major. Preist returned to TRE feeling hugely excited, thinking this was ‘going to be a great adventure – heady stuff’.

  However, the staff of Combined Operations soon realised that Preist, like Jones and Garrard, knew far too much to be risked on the raid. They therefore decided that Preist would go over with Cook’s naval force and approach the beach at Bruneval in one of the landing craft that would evacuate the paratroopers in the early hours of the morning. He was to wait offshore until word was received that C Company had control of the whole area.

  A couple of days after his heady visit to Airborne headquarters, Major Bromley-Martin called up Preist and explained the change of plan. ‘Sorry to disappoint you, old boy,’ he began. ‘Somebody pointed out that you are a radar expert loaded with information, most of it secret. If you fell into enemy hands it could be a bit awkward, possibly very unpleasant for you.’ So the jolly major explained the new plan to send Preist in with the naval landing craft instead. Only if the cliff top was completely secure was he to go ashore and investigate the German radar installation.

  ‘Disappointing,’ said Preist. ‘But I see your point. I’ll be glad to go with the navy.’ He was told to report to Combined Operations headquarters in London where the full plan for Operation Biting and his role in it would be explained to him.

  There was one final piece of the jigsaw for the planners at Combined Operations to put in place. They realised that when the paratroopers reached their objective, they would be likely to capture some of the German guards or even some of the radar operators. With speed of the utmost importance, it might be of great value to discover from these captives where the German defenders were based and how many the raiding party was likely to encounter. As neither Frost nor any of the other officers, nor any of the men, spoke German, they needed a fluent German speaker on the raid.

  On the day before C Company left Tilshead to head north to Loch Fyne, Sergeant-Major Strachan introduced to Major Frost a new addition to the raiding party. A small, smart man with brown hair and blue eyes, dressed in the uniform of the Pioneer Corps, he was introduced as Private Newman. Frost was immediately suspicious. Why was he being asked to take along a private from the Pioneer Corps on this high-level operation? He soon realised that it was because Newman spoke perfect German. He interviewed the new addition at some length and realised he had all sorts of admirable qualities, he was tough and determined to do his bit. But soon Frost became even more suspicious. Not only did Private Newman speak German but he was German.

  Frost was gravely worried. The German army seemed invincible, in Russia and in North Africa, as they had been in Poland, France and the rest of northern Europe. All the talk at this stage in the war was of the German genius for p
lanting fifth columnists in Britain to spy on what was going on. Frost said that they had all been taught to ‘fear the enemy’s Intelligence’. He was commanding a small-scale, top secret mission in which a thousand things could go wrong. And now he was being asked to take along a German in his party. ‘I could not help think,’ concluded Frost later, ‘that the enemy probably knew all about us and what we were training for.’ Was it possible that this determined young man was a German spy who had successfully been implanted in the British Army? ‘There was a distinctly eerie feeling to having a Hun on the strength.’5

  The man introduced to Major Frost as Private Newman was actually Peter Nagel, a German Jew, who had quite a history behind him. He had been born in 1916 in Berlin, the son of a wealthy German-Jewish textile manufacturer who had married a Catholic, a marriage that caused some scandal in smart Berlin society at the time. Although Nagel had gone to a Protestant school, his Jewish origins had been recognised and in an expression of the anti-Semitism that was characteristic of the times, the young Nagel was repeatedly told by his teachers and his fellow students, ‘People like you are not wanted in Germany.’6

  When the Nazis came to power, Nagel decided he must try to leave Germany and he concocted an elaborate plan to fool the Nazis and to get himself, his family and much of the family wealth out of Germany and into England. Here, his father planned to settle in Leicester, a centre of the woollen trade. Nagel lived in Paris for a year before settling in England. He was fluent in both French and English and he began to work in the family clothing business, now split between Leicester and Soho in London.

  In March 1940, Nagel joined the British Army, giving his religion as ‘Church of England’. Nagel was officially listed as a ‘friendly alien’, and along with about eight thousand German and Austrian refugees was allowed to serve in the Army Pioneer Corps. Many of these refugees went on to serve in SOE or in special forces of one sort or another, and they were jokingly known as ‘His Majesty’s Most Loyal Enemy Aliens’. In 1941, Nagel trained with SOE and became skilled with explosives and in using Morse code, before going on to train with the commandos. He was regarded as a good, enthusiastic soldier and an educated, intelligent man.

  In February 1942, the staff of Combined Operations headquarters selected Nagel to join C Company on the Bruneval raid. He was given the papers and the army number of a Private Newman, an actual soldier who had deserted in the late 1930s. If he was captured and the Germans checked the army lists, they would find the real Private Newman and hopefully be convinced that this was who Nagel was. As a German Jew in the British Army, Nagel would face instant execution at best if captured. A man had to have a special form of bravery to put himself forward for a mission that involved this level of risk.

  In C Company, only Frost, his second-in-command, Ross, and Sergeant-Major Strachan had any inkling that Private Newman was not who he claimed to be. Frost still had his fears about the raid being infiltrated; even though Newman came across well, he was unhappy about having an unknown, untried soldier on a mission of this complexity. He feared that if things went wrong Newman would become a liability. When Frost met Admiral Lord Mountbatten on the Prinz Albert during the commander’s visit to Loch Fyne, he asked for a private word. Knowing that Newman had been sent to him on direct orders from Combined Operations, Frost shared his fears with Mountbatten and requested Newman’s removal.

  Mountbatten asked for the young man to be brought in. In his impeccable German, he subjected Newman to a ‘tremendous barrage of questions’. Despite being interrogated by a senior naval officer and someone as formidable as the King’s cousin, Nagel held his own and answered every point that was put to him. The man left and Mountbatten turned to Frost. He told him he was deeply impressed with the German and that Frost would find him invaluable as an interpreter on the raid.7

  The matter was closed. Private Newman was in the squad. Including Flight Sergeant Cox, Lieutenant Vernon and the ten Royal Engineers, and Private Newman, there were exactly the required number of 120 men now training for the Bruneval raid.

  13

  The Plan

  Thanks to the invaluable intelligence picked up on the ground by the French underground, alongside the mass of detailed information gleaned from aerial photography, and with the men going through the last stages of their training, the final details of the plan for Operation Biting were coming together.

  The essence of the operation was speed and surprise. The force of 120 men would not be able to hold out for long against a determined counter-attack mounted by German reinforcements. There were plenty of German troops along this stretch of coast within a few miles who could be rallied to defend the installations at Bruneval, while the British paratroopers only had light machine guns, rifles and pistols. The new short-range Sten gun was their principal automatic weapon, backed up with a few Bren guns. But not everyone had taken to the Sten gun. Major Frost himself later described it as ‘bloody awful… a most inaccurate and unreliable weapon’.1

  The Paras would be no match for enemy troops supported by armoured vehicles, let alone tanks, or against mortar attack from enemy positions. They had to get in, overwhelm the local guards, capture the equipment, photograph it, dismantle it and remove the key sections to the beach, and evacuate by landing craft before the Germans had time to realise what was happening. Any delay would be fatal.

  The purpose of the night raid was quite different from previous commando raids where the objective had been to cause as much mayhem, damage and disruption as possible. The main objective of Operation Biting was to capture and remove the vital radar technology and escape with it. The foremost secondary objective was to capture any technicians who were known to operate the Würzburg radar and to bring them back to Britain. The Paras were not to waste time in capturing and transporting away other prisoners. Their operational orders were crystal clear: ‘No prisoners will be taken other than officers and technical personnel.’2

  The location of the Würzburg radar station had determined how the raid would be carried out. It was sited on a flat plateau about 200 to 300 yards square, on top of a cliff. The plateau was 370 feet above the sea and there was a steep gully running down to the small beach, nestling between the high cliffs. The pebble beach was only about 300 yards long. Inland from the radar installation, the ground sloped more gently but was cut by a series of steep-sided valleys, many of which were wooded. This was the landscape that the planners in Combined Operations had studied so carefully from pre-war maps and aerial photos before coming up with their plan for the raid.

  Operation Biting was scheduled for the night of Tuesday 24 February, when tide conditions and moonlight would be ideal. If the weather prevented the raid that night then there were two further consecutive nights in which conditions would be suitable, if not ideal. It was only a brief window of opportunity and everything had to come together on those nights. The final version of the operational plan was littered with code names for different groups and places in the raid.3 At the centre of the operation, the Würzburg equipment itself was codenamed Henry. The code names for the raiding parties were the names of leading admirals from naval history, as a tribute to the senior service that would play the vital role of getting the men back to safety after the raid.

  The numbers of men involved in the raid were tiny. The first group of forty, with the code name Nelson, were to jump from their four Whitleys to a drop zone about a half a mile east, a short way up the inland road to Bruneval, at exactly 0015 hours. This group had a major role to play in the raid. Their overall objective was to secure the beach for the withdrawal of the main body of the raiding party, along with the radar equipment and any prisoners.

  Nelson was commanded by Second Lieutenant Euan Charteris. Only twenty years of age and the youngest officer taking part in the raid, he was accordingly known to the other officers as ‘Junior’. He led a party of twenty men who were to capture and hold the beach, take out the guard post and the two machine-gun positions to the north and south of t
he road that had been spotted by Charlemagne and Pol on their recce of the site.

  The remaining members of Nelson, under the command of Captain John Ross, were to act as a rearguard and to hold the road from the beach towards the village of Bruneval. Aerial photographs had identified the recent construction of pillboxes along the southern side of this road, built to prevent invaders and invasion vehicles moving inland if they had successfully landed on the beaches. These installations were collectively known as Beach Fort. But the pillboxes would be an equal threat to the paratroopers who were moving in the other direction, towards the beach. Ross’s party included two sappers, equipped with anti-tank mines that were to be set to prevent German armoured reinforcements from moving towards the beach. In case the intelligence proved to be wrong and there were unexpected minefields, these men were equipped with mine detectors and were to clear a route through the minefields and mark it with white tape.