Hunt the Bismarck

by Angus Konstam

  The first radio message went out, but due to dampness and atmospheric problems caused by the fog it only reached Norfolk, 15 miles away to the south.13 That though, was enough. Not only did Wake-Walker now know what to expect, but he was also able to pass on the news to Holland and Tovey. On board Bismarck, the B-Dienst unit reported the enemy radio signal being sent. It was pretty easy to guess what it said. Sure enough, the translation of the plain language signal read: ‘One battleship, one cruiser in sight at 20°. Range 7 miles, course 240°.’ According to Müllenheim-Rechberg: ‘Thereafter the hydrophone and radar bearing of the vanished enemy soon shifted astern, and the range increased.’ According to the plan, Suffolk was dropping back and shadowing the ships using her radar. Through the coming night, the cruiser sent a string of detailed contact reports, describing every move the German ships made as they thundered southwards through the Denmark Strait.

  On board the Norfolk, Captain Phillips was in his sea cabin when his chief yeoman knocked and entered to tell him ‘Suffolk’s got ‘em, Sir.’14 Phillips donned his coat and rushed on to the open bridge, followed moments later by Wake-Walker. Captain Phillips ordered an increase of speed to 30 knots, but as the ship was still shrouded in fog he couldn’t see anything. His radar also chose that moment to break down. Repairing it was just a matter of replacing valves, but it would take at least 30 minutes. All that time, the cruiser had to rely on the skill of her lookouts and the reports coming in from the Suffolk. Meanwhile, Norfolk was surging forwards, heading towards the hidden enemy.

  Away to the north, Suffolk had turned away in a loop to port and worked her way round to the north-east of the two enemy ships. This was a tricky manoeuvre. Just ahead of them lay the British minefield, and following the advice of his navigating officer Ellis edged the cruiser through a narrow gap between two areas of mines. This was difficult enough in clear daylight, but they were steaming fast through thick fog, and at dusk, too. Fortunately, in those northern latitudes there was still plenty of light, and somehow they passed through the mines to reach open water. Ellis then fell in astern of the Germans and began the game of shadowing them through the Strait.

  Ellis was now directing his ship from over the shoulder of his senior radar operator – the most experienced one on board. It took skilled eyes and experience to detect any change of speed or course. This wasn’t the type of radar modern eyes are used to, with its PPI screen, looking down from above – that was only fitted to Suffolk later in the war. This one was more like the heart rate monitor in a hospital – a screen showing a blip, which an experienced eye could turn into the range, bearing and speed that Ellis needed to send his contact reports. By now, the enemy were about 15 miles ahead, and Suffolk was clear of the fog, but beyond the range of visibility. It was clear by now that the two German ships were travelling at 25 knots and skirting the edge of the pack ice as they headed south. So, these crucial contact reports kept being sent out, and now, free of the fog, they could reach other listeners, too, on Iceland, although wireless problems meant the signals couldn’t reach Holland’s or Tovey’s flagships.

  On board Norfolk, the run to the north continued. Then, at 20.30, Wake-Walker’s flagship broke free of the fog bank and entered clearer water.15 Suddenly they saw the enemy ahead of them, just 6 miles away, fine off their port bow. The two ships were approaching each other at a closing speed of almost a mile a minute. Worse, as the men on Norfolk’s open bridge watched, they could see the Bismarck’s forward guns open fire, the muzzles belching orange flame. At that range it took 23 seconds for the shells to reach their target. During those key seconds Phillips ordered a hard turn to starboard, and the cruiser’s rudder had begun to bite just as the shells landed. The four-shell salvo landed just off the cruiser’s port quarter, and as the 15in. shells hit the water they detonated and threw up splinters that hurtled into the cruiser’s aftermost turret as if her 1in. turret armour were made of butter.

  Wake-Walker watched with professional interest, and later described the fall of shot as throwing up a broad wall of smoke and water 200ft high, but noted that the salvo was well grouped. One shell – highly burnished – struck the water and then ricocheted over the cruiser’s bridge. He was clearly impressed. That, though, was the Bismarck’s only chance to demolish the British cruiser. As Norfolk turned, Captain Phillips ordered a smoke screen to be laid, to throw off the enemy gunners. Half an agonisingly slow minute later, the cruiser was safely back behind the wall of fog. However, Bismarck fired three more salvos at them, but without anything to aim at they all fell wide. Nevertheless, Phillips had almost paid a high price for his impetuous charge towards the enemy.

  Away to the north, observers on Suffolk’s bridge saw the gun flashes through the haze ahead of them, and when nothing landed near them they realised that Norfolk must have run into trouble. Little did any of the British seamen realise, but this opening salvo of the campaign had damaged Bismarck’s ability to fight, since the shock waves from the turrets had put the forward FuMo23 radar out of action. Without it, until it was fixed, Bismarck would have to rely on her lookouts. This would have a dramatic impact on events the following morning: because of the issue, Lütjens ordered Prinz Eugen to take the lead, as her radar was still intact. This was done, albeit with a momentary risk of collision as Prinz Eugen surged past the Bismarck. Importantly, this change of position wasn’t detected by either Norfolk or Suffolk. Wake-Walker’s flagship had now taken station astern of the Germans, and so both British cruisers were now shadowing the enemy.

  Shadowing through the night

  On board Bismarck, Müllenheim-Rechberg expressed his concern about the situation: ‘This sudden encounter with British cruisers came as a shock to me, especially as it was reasonable to assume that there would be other enemy ships in these rather narrow waters.’16 He added that the thing they’d most wanted to avoid – an encounter with British warships – had taken place right at the start of the breakout attempt. Clearly that didn’t bode well. However, he continued: ‘I regarded it as only the opening act, and naturally we were confident that we should be able to ward off the threat. Lütjens’ next moves were aimed at either shaking off our pursuers or sinking them.’

  As for the pursuers, they were now shadowing Bismarck and Prinz Eugen from a reasonably safe distance of around 13 miles. Suffolk was to starboard, closest to the edge of the pack ice, while Norfolk was a few miles to port of her, skirting the edge of the fog bank. Although most of the time they couldn’t see the enemy ships, sometimes the haze cleared and they could catch a glimpse of their outline – and the enemy presumably could see them. Mostly, though, they kept their distance. Thanks to radar they knew where the enemy were, whether they were visible or not. In fact, the superior radar on Suffolk did the job for both of them; Norfolk’s fixed aerial radar proved less able to deal with the snow flurries and course changes during the night. However, together the pair of cruisers – one with a better radar, the other with a more powerful radio transmitter – did exactly what had been asked of them.

  By tracking the two German ships as they passed through the Denmark Strait they could let Tovey plan his strategy, directing his ships to intercept the enemy as they reached the North Atlantic. Just as importantly, it allowed V. Adm. Holland to plot a course that meant that as dawn broke, Hood and Prince of Wales would be waiting for the Germans at the southern end of the Denmark Strait. Some 600 miles to the south-east, Tovey considered himself lucky.17 His dispositions had been made based on very little hard information, but his gamble had paid off. Holland’s two capital ships were now going to be in a position to intercept the Germans early the following morning. As night fell, his ships were 300 miles to the south-east of their opponents. In case the Germans slipped past them, King George V, Repulse and Victorious were steaming towards a position to the south-west of Iceland where they could intercept the Bismarck.

  Tovey, however, wasn’t content with that. Bismarck was still a powerful ship and the 14in. guns of King George V and Prince
of Wales hadn’t been tested in battle. He therefore needed to improve the odds in their favour. That evening, he ordered the venerable but still powerful battleship Rodney detached from escort duties. She had just left the Clyde, accompanying the troopship liner Britannic, which was bound for the USA. Rodney herself was heading there for a refit in Boston. Now, Tovey ordered her north to reinforce the Home Fleet. On board Hood, Holland ordered his two ships to speed on towards their dawn rendezvous. Hood was in the lead, followed by Prince of Wales and four destroyers. Two more had put in to Hvalfjord to refuel. Later, one of the destroyer men remembered the moment: ‘With Hood to support us we felt we could tackle anything … there was no beating her.’ Now, for the first time in her long career, she was about to fire her guns in anger.

  Away to the north-west, the pursuit through the Denmark Strait continued, with all four ships now making around 30 knots as they sped south. Dusk had fallen, but there was still a sort of half-light, which kept the lookouts on both pairs of ships peering towards the enemy. On board Bismarck, now behind the Prinz Eugen, Müllenheim-Rechberg caught occasional glimpses of Suffolk through the after rangefinder, which had superb optics.18 The visibility came and went depending on flurries of snow or fog. Finally, at 22.00, Lütjens had had enough. He waited until a fresh rain squall swept in and hid the two pairs of ships from each other, then he ordered Bismarck to make a hard turn to port, and reverse her course.

  He hoped to surprise the Suffolk as the battleship emerged from the rain squall.19 However, on board Suffolk the manoeuvre had been detected on the cruiser’s radar, and Suffolk turned away, making smoke. By the time Bismarck emerged into the open Suffolk had gone. Lütjens held his course for ten minutes, hoping to spot either of the enemy cruisers, but nothing was seen. So, at 22.10 he turned back on to his original course, and the battleship sped after the Prinz Eugen. Within half an hour Suffolk was back in position, as was Norfolk, and the shadowing continued.

  There was another incident shortly before midnight, when the German lookouts spotted a Catalina flying boat, patrolling to the south-east of them, flying above the fog. Soon, however, it turned away, and it seemed likely it hadn’t spotted the two enemy ships.

  A little after midnight, a heavy snowstorm cut visibility down to less than a mile. At the same time, the B-Dienst signal interception unit on board the Bismarck reported that the British cruisers had stopped sending contact reports.20 The assumption was that they had lost contact. Norfolk and Suffolk were still out there, following the German ships, but the snow was disrupting their radar picture. So, with no new information to pass on, Wake-Walker was waiting until the blizzard passed. However, he knew that by dawn two British capital ships would be blocking Bismarck’s path to the Atlantic. His cruisers had done their job. Apart from some last-minute signalling to help guide Hood and Prince of Wales towards the enemy, Wake-Walker’s cruisers had played their part to perfection. It was up to V. Adm. Holland now, to finish the job.

  Chapter 9

  Duel at Dawn

  In harm’s way

  Just before 04.00 that morning, Signalman Edward ‘Ted’ Briggs reported for duty on the Hood’s bridge.1 It was the start of the Morning Watch, and after their ship’s race through the night, everyone was fired up with excitement. If the admiral’s calculations were correct, then around dawn that morning they would go into action. He wouldn’t admit it to his shipmates – almost none of them would – but he was afraid. He was only 27, and hadn’t considered dying before. That, however, wasn’t his worst fear. He was far more scared of suffering some horrible, disfiguring injury. He also wondered how he would react when he saw his shipmates being blown apart beside him. Would he panic and cower in the corner of the bridge, or would he acquit himself bravely. Like everyone else, he didn’t express those thoughts, but in those long hours before dawn they were shared by just about every sailor on board Hood, Prince of Wales, Bismarck and Prinz Eugen. All of them, silently, knew their courage would soon be put to the test.

  Throughout that night, Hood and Prince of Wales had steamed through the Atlantic at 27 knots.2 The seas were becoming rougher and the four destroyers were having a hard time of it, with the seas breaking over them every time they rose out of a trough. In the navy they called it ‘taking the green’. The two capital ships, by contrast, were big enough to barely notice the heavy seas, although spray and waves still broke over their bows. On board the destroyer Electra, those on the bridge thought the water steaming out of the capital ship’s hawseholes made them look like angry, snorting dragons. At one point Holland signalled the escorts, asking if it was too rough for them. They all said no, as nobody wanted to miss the action. So, Hood and Prince of Wales steamed on, while the four destroyers struggled to keep pace with them.

  At 22.00 the two ships began preparing for the coming battle.3 Men wrote letters or listened to briefings by their officers. They collected white anti-flash hoods and mittens, designed to protect them from burns. If they talked at all, they did it in low voices, as if in a church. Above all, though, they tried to contain their fear, not letting their shipmates see how scared they actually were. Meanwhile, on the bridge of Hood, V. Adm. Holland and Captain Kerr talked in equally quiet tones, discussing the tactical situation. Thanks to the signals coming from Wake-Walker’s cruisers they knew exactly where the enemy were, as well as their course and speed. By their calculations, at midnight the enemy were a little over a hundred miles away to the north, which meant they would probably make contact at around 14.30. That didn’t suit Holland. As a gunnery expert, relying on one aged but untried capital ship and a faulty new one, he wanted to weigh the odds more in his favour.

  In those latitudes it only really got dark a little after 02.00. The night was short, so dawn was expected at around 05.30. This meant that if he could speed up the rate of closure and bring the enemy to battle at sunset, the setting sun would illuminate the enemy ships, while his own would be difficult to see in the dark. So, to make this happen, at 00.12 he ordered a turn to starboard, so that his force was now heading north-north-west.4 It was at that point that he received the latest contact report from the cruisers. The Bismarck had disappeared in a snowstorm, which obscured the radar picture. So, he simply had to hope the Germans didn’t change course before Suffolk’s radar could relocate the enemy ships. This raised the possibility that the Germans might slip past him during the brief Arctic darkness. In response, five minutes later, at 00.17, he ordered another turn, this time on to a course of due north. This meant the protagonists were sailing almost directly towards each other, with a closing speed of about 43 knots.

  At the same moment, he sent the signal to Prince of Wales, ‘Prepare for Action’.5 This was largely superfluous – both ships had been at Action Stations for more than two hours by now, and all their main guns were loaded, trained on to the likely enemy bearing, and ready to fire. Still, it meant that his six ships could hoist their battle flags – oversized white ensigns. He added in a follow up signal that he expected to make contact at any time after 01.40. There was nothing more to do now but wait. Some 300 miles to the south, Admiral Tovey knew that Holland was about to sail into battle. The previous evening, he had considered asking his second-in-command to put the better-protected Prince of Wales in the lead, rather than Hood, but had decided against it. Holland was experienced enough to make up his own mind on tactics. Afterwards, Tovey regretted not sending that signal.6

  Holland, meanwhile, had his own problems to deal with. His headlong race towards the enemy was all very well, but since midnight the two cruisers hadn’t been sending out any contact reports. As the clock ticked on, this raised the possibility that they might have lost contact with the Bismarck and Prinz Eugen or, worse, they had been surprised and sunk. The danger was that somehow the Germans had slipped past Holland’s ships in the pre-dawn darkness. In fact, at 00.21, while his ships were still hidden by the snowstorm, Admiral Lütjens had ordered his ships to turn slightly to starboard, from a course of 190° to 220°.
He also increased speed slightly, to 28 knots. At that southern part of the Denmark Strait the coast of Greenland fell away to the west, and so too did the ice pack. By changing course he was keeping the ice on his starboard side, and steaming down the western side of the Strait. V. Adm. Holland didn’t know of this course change yet, but the possibility of it wasn’t lost on him.

  It was a matter of psychology. Holland was aware that Lütjens knew that he’d been spotted by the British cruisers and that they were probably sending contact reports back to the rest of the Home Fleet. If he were the German commander, Holland would expect the British to send capital ships to intercept him before he broke out into the North Atlantic. So, by keeping as far as he could to the west, he made it slightly harder for the British ships to reach him in time. However, it was just as likely that the Germans would keep on their present course, as he doubted they knew two British capital ships were on track to intercept them. His present northerly course would only bring about a battle if the enemy were where he expected them to be. So, he made a decision. If no fresh report reached him by 02.30, he’d turn his ships around and head off to the south-west. That way he might lose the tactical advantage he’d been planning, but at least he’d make sure the enemy didn’t slip past him in the darkness.

  There was another reason V. Adm. Holland was hoping to intercept the enemy on his own terms. Just before contact was made, he intended to turn to port, so his own ships were steaming across the path of the enemy. The Germans, according to the latest contact reports, were in line astern – one ship behind the other – and presumably Bismarck was in the lead. That meant only her four forward 15in. guns could bear on the British, while all eight of Hood’s 15in. guns and all ten of the 14in. ones on Prince of Wales could bear on the enemy battleship. In naval terms this was called ‘crossing the T’. All of your guns could bear on the enemy, but only a few of theirs could fire back. It was a tactic that had stood the test of time, having been used by Nelson at Trafalgar and Jellicoe at Jutland. Now, Holland planned to cross the enemy’s T in the Denmark Strait.