Hunt the Bismarck

by Angus Konstam

  In theory, the Catalina could stay airborne for up to 28 hours, so the crew worked a watch system: three hours on and one off. When off watch, the crew cooked meals on a small camping stove, or else read or played cards. Four bunks were fitted for those who were able to catnap amid the incessant noise and vibration. Those on watch either piloted the plane or kept their eyes peeled for the Bismarck. Ensign Smith had only been with 209 Squadron for two weeks and he was still getting used to British ways. Now, at 09.45, after three hours in the air, they were flying over the Celtic Sea, 480 miles from Lough Erne, and almost 3,600 miles south-west of the Irish coast. That was the start of their designated search area. Visibility was poor – no more than 8 miles or so – and the low cloud meant they had to fly at 500ft. Below them, the sea looked rough. All eyes were scanning it for the telltale sign of a vessel’s wake.

  At the start of their search, Smith took over the controls and Briggs moved into the co-pilot seat for a break. Then, after just over 30 minutes of searching, Smith sat up and pointed.23 ‘What’s that?’ he asked. Briggs, a far more experienced pair of eyes, saw a dark shape at the limit of visibility. It appeared to be a warship. Smith banked a little to starboard and flew up into the clouds, hoping to approach the mystery ship without being seen. He was now flying at just under 2,000ft. He was about to dive down again when a gap in the clouds appeared. The warship was just 500 yards in front of them. She was a large warship, and as soon as she saw the plane she began turning hard to starboard. Then her port side erupted in orange flame.

  She was firing her flak guns, and seconds later shells started bursting around them. To Briggs, the ship looked like she was one great winking flame. One close blast made the Catalina buck, and a crewman was thrown from his bunk. Smith, who later claimed he’d ‘never been so scared in [his] life’, reacted at once. He began evasive manoeuvres – not easy in such a lumbering seaplane – and banked and climbed back towards the cover of the clouds. At the same time, he ditched the four depth charges the plane carried, to give the Catalina a little extra lift. Meanwhile, Briggs was hastily scribbling out a message on a signal pad, which he handed to the radio operator. The haste was to get the message sent off quickly, in case they were shot down. The signal, sent just before 10.30, read: ‘One battleship bearing 240°, five miles, course 150°, my position 49° 33’ North, 21° 47’ West. Time of origin 1030/26.’24 Now, after 31 hours and 10 minutes without any contact, Bismarck had finally been sighted.

  Chapter 13

  Air Strike

  Force H

  When Fg Off. Briggs sent off his sighting report, it wasn’t just picked up by RAF Coastal Command: as it was uncoded, it was also received by Admiral Tovey on board the King George V, by the Admiralty in London, and by Group West in Paris. It was also received by the B-Dienst team on board the Bismarck. This placed the German battleship 690 miles from Brest, or 34 hours of steaming at her economical speed of 20 knots. Tovey saw that King George V was 135 miles to the north of Bismarck, and Rodney was 125 miles to the north-east of Briggs’ position.1 That meant that they had absolutely no chance of catching her during the following day. For Lütjens, it meant that his flagship was 320 miles from the longitude line of 14° West, where he could expect Luftwaffe air cover. He was even closer to the line of U-boats Dönitz was assembling. So, even at 20 knots, she would be underneath a friendly air umbrella in 16 hours – or rather by dawn the following morning.

  Clearly, the only way the British could catch Bismarck was to find a way to slow her down. Only two formations were in a position to do it. Cdr Vian’s five destroyers were fairly close to the enemy battleship, and so without waiting for orders Vian altered course and headed off to intercept her.2 So too did Captain Benjamin Martin of the heavy cruiser Dorsetshire. She had been escorting a convoy far to the south, but had been sent north to lend a hand. Now, using his own initiative, Martin headed off to cut Bismarck off from the French coast.3 That left V. Adm. Somerville, and Force H. When Fg Off. Briggs’ report came through, Somerville was to the south-east of Bismarck’s position. He was an unorthodox commander, a lively man, with a ribald sense of humour and a zest for life. Now it looked like he would have his chance to bring Bismarck to battle.

  During the voyage north from Gibraltar, Somerville had detached his destroyers, which left him with the battlecruiser Renown, which served as his flagship, the light cruiser Sheffield, and the fleet aircraft carrier Ark Royal. The other two ships could be easily brushed aside by Bismarck, but the Ark Royal, with her embarked squadrons of Swordfish torpedo bombers, stood a chance of damaging the German battleship. It was a slim chance, though; as the air strike from Victorious showed, Bismarck appeared virtually immune from attacks by aerial torpedoes. Nevertheless, that morning, Somerville had ordered Captain Loben Maund of Ark Royal to carry out a search of the waters to the north and west.4 The previous day, the carrier had suspended flying because Force H was sailing through a south-easterly gale. By dawn, while the seas were still rough, the gale had eased a little, and Cdr Henry Traill, in charge of flying operations on the carrier, deemed it safe to fly.

  However, it was still very hazardous. The carrier’s flight deck was 62ft above the waterline, and it was pitching over 50ft between the huge wave crests. It was rolling, too – so much so that the flight deck crew were worried the planes would slip off the deck. Spray was still breaking over the bow, and any launch in those conditions was fraught with danger. Yet desperate times called for equally desperate measures. Only Ark Royal’s Swordfish could stop Bismarck now, and first they had to find her. So, the search aircraft had to be launched. Originally, it had been intended to launch the aircraft at 07.00, but this was delayed by two hours in the hope that conditions would improve. They did a little, but not enough to make the undertaking anything short of reckless. Thus, at 08.45 Maund turned Ark Royal into the wind, reduced speed and signalled Traill to begin the launch.5

  It was all in the timing. This turn into the wind stopped the carrier from rolling but it didn’t stop the pitching. So, Traill had to judge his moment, launching each plane as the flight deck began to rise to meet another wave. With a 50-knot wind facing them, the Swordfish only needed to reach a speed of 35mph before they could take off. All eyes were riveted to each biplane as it rolled forwards, picked up speed and lurched into the air. Some timed it better than others, and a few planes skimmed the water as the flight deck dropped towards a trough. Nevertheless, they all made it. Then, after circling over the carrier the Swordfish fanned out and began their search. All of them were fitted with long-range fuel tanks and carried experienced observers on board. If anyone stood a chance of finding Bismarck it was them.

  The ten search planes were still airborne at 10.30 when Fg Off. Briggs’ signal was transmitted. Somerville could see from the chart that Bismarck’s position was 112 miles to the north-west, and that her projected course took her straight into the quadrant covered by his Swordfish. Sure enough, at 11.14 Sub Lt ‘Jock’ Hartley flying aircraft 2A sighted Bismarck, but he thought she was a cruiser.6 Minutes later, at 11.21, Lt John Callander in 2F spotted her and correctly identified the ship. Upon hearing this, Somerville ordered two more Swordfish aloft, equipped with radar, to take over from Callander’s and Hartley’s planes, which were now shadowing their contact. The other eight Swordfish were recalled, in order to refuel and be armed with 18in. torpedoes. By this time Force H had turned to steer a parallel course to Bismarck, 50 miles north of her.

  Now came the next tricky problem – landing the aircraft again in such treacherous conditions. Again, timing was crucial, and all but one of the planes landed safely; misjudging it, one pilot brought his Swordfish in too late, as the carrier’s stern rose and crushed his plane to pieces. The three-man crew were bruised and battered but survived the experience. The Swordfish lining up astern of the carrier then had to wait until the wreckage was swept from the deck. That tricky job done, the flight deck crews brought the aircraft back down into the hangar, where they were better pro
tected, and set about refuelling and arming the biplanes. Throughout the day, the two Swordfish shadowing Bismarck were replaced, which ensured that the battleship was kept under continual surveillance.

  Meanwhile, during the course of the morning Somerville kept Renown well to the east of Ark Royal, but within visual contact, despite the fog patches that were drifting over the sea.7 The idea was first to protect Ark Royal, in case Bismarck moved to attack her, and second to be ready to block the German ship’s route to France, if the need arose. This, however, would be little more than a suicide mission. Renown was a battlecruiser, protected by a 9in. armoured belt, and up to 6in. of deck armour. So, although she had been first launched in 1916, at least her deck armour had been reinforced during the inter-war years. This, though, was still not proof against modern 15in. armour-piercing shells. She also carried six 15in. guns, in three twin turrets, which, though powerful, gave her just three-quarters of Bismarck’s firepower. She also lacked the German battleship’s modern fire control equipment. All in all, she didn’t stand much of chance in a fight.

  That left Somerville with a problem. If Ark Royal was unable to delay Bismarck, then it would be up to Renown. The admiral talked it over with the ship’s commanding officer, Captain Rhoderick McGrigor, and they both agreed that the situation demanded it: if there was no alternative, the Renown would sail into action, regardless of the odds. This meant placing her 1,200-man crew in serious danger, but there was no other option. If Bismarck were to be stopped, Renown would have to slow her down. However, Somerville planned to use what few advantages he could. For instance, he would attack upwind, from the north-west, so that if things started to go badly he could more readily disengage under cover of a smoke screen. With a top speed of 32 knots, Renown was also faster. So, he would also approach Bismarck from astern, forcing the German battleship to turn towards him, therefore helping to delay her progress towards France.

  Later that morning, though, the Admiralty, with the Hood disaster fresh on their minds, ordered Somerville and McGrigor to avoid battle, unless King George V or Rodney were also engaging the enemy. This may well have spared the lives of 1,200 British sailors, but it also robbed the British of their one last-ditch chance to slow Bismarck down. That meant it was solely up to Ark Royal.

  However, Somerville had one other ship at his disposal. The light cruiser Sheffield was doing nothing apart from escorting the Ark Royal. So, at 13.15, Somerville ordered Captain Arthur Larcom to detach from the rest of the force, head south and then shadow the enemy battleship from astern.8 The limitation was that she only carried a Type 79Y Air Search radar, so unlike Norfolk or Suffolk she had to keep within the bounds of visibility and rely on her lookouts. Unfortunately, Somerville neglected to tell Captain Maund of the Ark Royal about the cruiser’s redeployment.

  ‘Sorry for the Kipper’

  Meanwhile, on board Ark Royal the last two search planes, 2F and 2H, landed back on the carrier at 13.34. By now the gale had eased a bit, making carrier operations slightly less fraught, although the seas were still extremely rough and in normal circumstances flying operations would have been suspended. This, however, was no ordinary day. So, as these last two planes were refuelled and armed with torpedoes, the air crews trooped into the briefing room. There they learned that Bismarck was 40 miles away to the south, and steering a parallel course to the carrier. The mission was fairly straightforward. A total of 14 aircraft would be used in the attack, with another aircraft being held in reserve in case of problems taking off. Each of these Swordfish carried an 18in. torpedo, similar to the ones carried by Victorious’ aircraft. Once more, the planes would be grouped into smaller groups of two or three aircraft, which would split up when sighting the target and approach her from both sides to make it harder to dodge the torpedoes. The strike would be led by Ulsterman Lt Cdr James Stewart-Moore, the commander of 820 Squadron.

  The crews boarded their Swordfish, and at 14.50 the first of them took off. After they assembled over the carrier, Stewart-Moore led them off to the south. The sea was hidden by the low cloud but some of the planes carried ASV radar, which in theory could detect a large surface target at a range of 26,330 yards (13 miles).9 At 15.20, they picked up a contact, which could only be Bismarck. So, still keeping above the clouds, Stewart-Moore ordered his strike to split up into sub-flights and to move into their attacking positions to port and starboard of the contact. Strangely, though, the contact was some 20 miles closer than they’d expected. It was also heading towards the south-east, rather than due east, as the briefing had told him to expect. Still, at 15.45 all the aircraft were in place, and Stewart-Moore signalled them to launch their attack. The biplanes then began dropping through the clouds, and on towards the enemy battleship.

  On board the Sheffield, the crew were delighted they had been given a real job to do: a £2 reward was offered to the first sailor to spot the Bismarck. Morale was high as they steamed south at 31 knots, the crew at Action Stations and everyone keyed up and ready. In the cruiser’s gunnery direction platform at the top of her forward superstructure, Mid. David Repard’s job was to look out for the Luftwaffe, who might well turn up to escort the Bismarck home.10 So, he was there when he saw aircraft tumbling out of the low clouds like falling leaves. They were Ark Royal’s Swordfish. He raised the alarm, and remembered hearing someone say, ‘My God, they’re attacking us.’ Sure enough, the biplanes were deploying on to either beam of the cruiser and starting their attack runs. On Sheffield’s bridge, Captain Larcom saw them too and realised the airmen were about to attack his ship.11 He immediately rang the telegraph for full speed and began turning. At the same moment, he snapped an order to his gun crews: ‘On no account fire!’

  Stewart-Moore saw the target through a break in the clouds and realised they were attacking the wrong ship.12 His pilot yelled the same over the intercom and pulled out of his approach dive, waggling his wings as a warning to others. By then, though, it was too late. Only three other crews realised the mistake and pulled away. The others must have been surprised at the lack of flak coming from the enemy ship, but released their torpedoes anyway. The first one struck the water from 80ft, and began heading towards Sheffield’s port beam. The second exploded on contact with the water. Larcom managed to comb the torpedo track, and it shot past the cruiser’s port side. Another three torpedoes also exploded when they hit the water, but the remainder – five of them – were launched successfully, both from the cruiser’s port and starboard sides. Amazingly, Larcom threaded through them, and they all missed.

  Some of the pilots realised their mistake as they approached, but one got so close that they strafed the cruiser’s decks with machine-gun fire. Fortunately, nobody was hit. Another sheepishly signalled the cruiser by Aldis lamp, saying, ‘Sorry for the kipper’ – Fleet Air Arm slang for a torpedo.13 Captain Larcom, however, was not in a particularly forgiving mood that afternoon. In fact, he was described as being ‘purple with rage’.14 What had saved his ship was the fact that the torpedoes were fitted with a duplex, a new kind of magnetic detonator. These proved temperamental and their pistols all fired prematurely when the torpedoes landed in the water. So, rather shamefacedly, Stewart-Moore gathered his flock of aircraft together and headed back towards the carrier. As they flew home, the ASV radar picked up more contacts, 10 miles away. At first they thought these were German destroyers, but they flashed a British recognition signal. It was Vian, whose destroyers were steaming at top speed to make contact with Somerville.

  By now, the seas had picked up again, and although Ark Royal turned into the wind for the landing it was still extremely hazardous. The three Swordfish still carrying torpedoes were therefore ordered to ditch them before attempting to land. It was a sensible precaution. Three of the Swordfish were damaged while landing, as the stern of the carrier rose up and buckled their undercarriage as they touched down. Nevertheless, they all made it back safely. As Stewart-Moore headed towards the island and the debrief, he was clutching a piece of paper. It was a sig
nal telling him to ‘Watch out for the Sheffield’, which he’d received just minutes before. He and his air crews had messed up by attacking the wrong ship, but the fault also lay with Somerville and his staff, who duly apologised to Maund for net telling him about Sheffield sooner.15 The debriefing was described as being ‘animated’.

  The last roll of the dice

  The last of the returning air strike landed back on the carrier by 17.20. Immediately, the aircraft had their wings folded and were towed to the lifts, then taken down to the hangar for refuelling. Captain Maund and Cdr Traill decided there was still just enough time to launch one more strike before nightfall. This would be their last airstrike of the day. After that, a combination of darkness and the rough weather meant that a night attack was prohibitively dangerous. Like Tovey and Somerville, both men knew that by dawn the Bismarck would be under the aerial umbrella of Luftwaffe fighters, which, fitted with long-range fuel tanks, would be able to provide air cover for Bismarck. This meant that the chances of pulling off another Swordfish strike the following morning were non-existent. It would be suicide. So, this was effectively the last roll of the dice.

  The near-disaster now proved to be something of a blessing since it had highlighted the problem with the new detonators.16 These would now be replaced by old-fashioned but reliable contact ones. It took the hangar crews almost 90 minutes to prepare the aircraft, but by 18.45 they were ready. This time the strike would consist of 15 aircraft – the last of Ark Royal’s operational Swordfish. Four each were 810 and 818 Squadrons, while 820 Squadron provided another seven aircraft. This strike would be led by Lt Cdr Treventen ‘Tim’ Coode, commander of 818 Squadron. Stewart-Moore was flying too, leading the flight from his own squadron; he and the others saw it as a chance to redeem themselves. In the briefing, they were told that Sheffield would serve as a beacon. After making contact with her, they were to fly ahead of the cruiser, locate the Bismarck and carry out their attack. This time, there would be no room for error.