“Operation Cerberus – The Channel Dash” by Philip E. West – Reproduced from SWA Fine Art Publishers. Here we see the Swordfish flown by Sub. Lt. Kingsmill and Sub. Lt. Samples with PO Bunce in the rear, fighting for their lives with his machine gun.
The Beauforts’ ranks were joined on 12 February 1942 by the
crews of naval Swordfish which on that day attacked the Scharnhorst, Gneisenau
and Prinz Eugen and her consorts in the English Channel after they had broken
out of Brest heading for the safety of their home bases. None of the bomber
squadrons could attack before 1500 hours so the main hope was the slender force
of Beaufort torpedo-bombers on 42, 86 and 217 Squadrons and the Fleet Air Arm
Swordfish of 815 Squadron commanded by Lieutenant Commander Eugene Esmonde. At
1130 hours very few of these aircraft were within range of the German ships. 86
and part of 217 were at St. Eval, in Cornwall; the remainder of 217 was at
Thorney Island, near Portsmouth; and 42 was just coming in to land at
Coltishall, the fighter airfield near Norwich, after flying down from Leuchars,
having been delayed by snow on airfields. Only the six Swordfish at Manston and
the seven Beauforts at Thorney Island were in a position to attack within the
next two hours. As the Swordfish attacked the first to fall was Esmonde, a
victim of the enemy fighters. The two remaining aircraft of his section
survived the fighter attacks and pressed on into the storm of flak now coming
up from the vessels. Repeatedly hit and with their crews wounded, the two
Swordfish still headed for one of the two big ships visible through the clouds
of mist and smoke. Both crews managed to launch torpedoes before their aircraft,
riddled with bullets, struck the sea. Five of the six men were afterwards
rescued from the sea. From the second section of Swordfish, which disappeared
from view after crossing the destroyer screen, there were no survivors. Esmonde
was awarded a posthumous Victoria Cross.
Seven Beauforts at Thorney Island were available at short
notice when the order to attack was received. Two were armed with bombs, which
had to be changed to torpedoes and a third developed a technical fault. Only
four of the Beauforts thus took off at 1325 and when they did so they were
twenty minutes late on planned rendezvous with their fighter cover at Manston.
To make up for this delay both sets of aircraft were ordered while in the air
to proceed independently to the targets but because of radio frequency problems
the torpedobombers did not receive the message. Eventually the front section of
two Beauforts set off for the French coast, found nothing and returned to
Manston, where they discovered for the first time the nature of their target.
Meanwhile the two rear Beauforts, which had lost touch with their leaders, had
already landed at Manston, learned their target and the latest position of the
ships and set off towards the Belgian coast. At 1540, about the same time as
navy destroyers from the Thames estuary were making an extremely brave but
ineffective attack, the two pilots sighted a large warship which they took to
be the Prinz Eugen. Despite intense flak they turned in and launched their
torpedoes from a thousand yards range but to no avail.
Aircraft of Bomber Command loaded up with
semi-armour-piercing bombs, which had to be dropped from at least 7,000 feet,
were ready to attack. Cloud was 8/10ths-10/l0ths, with base at 700 feet. Unless
cloud-gaps occurred at precisely the right place and moment, the bomb-aimers
would be faced with an impossible task. But the alternative armament, the
general-purpose bomb, which could be dropped effectively from lower heights,
would certainly not penetrate decks plated with several inches of steel.
However, GP bombs could be used to damage the superstructure of the vessels and
distract the attention of their crews from the torpedo-bombers. The first wave
of 73 bombers began to take off at 1420. Most of them managed to reach the
target area, individually or in pairs, between 1455 and 1558, but in the thick
low clouds and intermittent rainstorms only ten crews saw the German ships long
enough to release their bombs. The next wave, of 134 aircraft, began to take
off at 1437 and arrived in the target area between 1600 and 1706. Twenty of
these are known to have delivered attacks. A third and final wave of
thirty-five aircraft took off at about 1615 and was over the target from 1750 to
1815. Nine managed to attack. All told, 242 aircraft of Bomber Command
attempted to find the enemy during the afternoon; and of those that returned,
only 39 succeeded in bombing. Fifteen aircraft were lost, mostly from flak and
flying into the sea and twenty damaged. No hits were scored on the vessels.
While these attacks were in progress, the next group of
torpedo-bombers was being launched against the enemy. 42 Squadron arrived at
Coltishall to find no facilities for torpedo aircraft but nine of the Beauforts
had flown from Leuchars with torpedoes on and these took off at 1425. The
remaining five, having no torpedoes, remained on the ground. On leaving
Coltishall the nine Beauforts headed south to Manston to link up with fighters
and some Hudsons intended for diversionary bombing. They were then to follow
the Hudsons out to sea. But when the Beauforts arrived over the airfield they
were unable to form up with the other aircraft. After orbiting Manston for over
half an hour, the Beaufort commander finally decided to set a course based on
information of the enemy’s position given him before he had left Coltishall. As
he turned out to sea with his squadron, six of the Hudsons followed him. The
remaining five continued to circle until almost 1600 before withdrawing to
Bircham Newton. In thick cloud and heavy rain the nine Beauforts and six
Hudsons now pressed on towards the Dutch coast. The two formations quickly lost
touch, but after an ASV contact the Hudsons sighted the enemy and attacked
through heavy flak. Two of the Hudsons were shot down and no damage was done to
the ships. A few minutes later six of the nine Beauforts, flying just above
sea-level, also came across the main German force – the other three had already
released their torpedoes against what were possibly Royal Navy destroyers. Most
of the torpedoes were seen to be running well but none found its mark.
Nine Hampden crews on 455 Squadron RAAF, the second
Australian squadron formed in Britain, led by Wing Commander G. M. Lindeman DFC
had to go down to 800 feet to drop their bombs and they encountered intense and
accurate AA fire. Squadron Leader W. H. Cliff, commanding 42 Squadron, who led
the formation, had on either side of him a Beaufort captained by an Australian
– Pilot Officer E. Birchley on his left and Pilot Officer R. B. Archer on his
right. Shells and bullets from the destroyers forming a protective screen
around the Scharnhorst flew all round them. Archer saw heavy shells hitting the
wave-tops and light tracer whizzing over his aircraft. His Beaufort was hit by
the Scharnhorst’s guns and his rear gunner was wounded. The gunner was
receiving first aid from the navigator and wireless operator when an enemy
aircraft appeared. When the gunner re-entered his turret, Archer ordered him
out and his place was taken by the navigator, Sergeant D. N. Keeling RNZAF.
Birchley, who had turned away in the opposite direction from Archer after
dropping his torpedo, put his head out of the open window to try and see
through the mist. Tracer bullets passed close to him. Both Australians thought
they would never get out of the flak. Birchley flew within 100 yards of the
Scharnhorst and his gunner had a glorious moment when he turned his machine
guns on the deck. Archer was subsequently awarded the DFC.
By this time the two Beauforts on 217 Squadron which had
failed to find the ships earlier in the afternoon had set off again from
Manston. Operating independently both picked up the Scharnhorst off the Dutch
coast with the aid of their ASV. But their attacks, delivered at 1710 and 1800,
were as unsuccessful as all the rest.
One last chance now remained. There were still the Beauforts
of 86 and 217 Squadrons at St. Eval. These had been hastily ordered to Thorney
Island, which they reached at 1430. There, after adjusting torpedoes and
refuelling, they took off to link up with fighters over Coltishall. The
Beauforts reached Coltishall at 1700, but found no sign of the escort they were
expecting. They at once headed out to sea and at 1805, in the growing dusk,
with visibility less than 1,000 yards and cloud base down to 600 feet they came
across four enemy mine-sweepers. One pilot caught sight of what he took to be a
big ship, but by then his aircraft was so damaged that he was unable to release
his torpedo. Soon darkness was upon them and at 1830 the Beauforts abandoned
their search and set course back for Coltishall. Two of their number, victims
of flak or the dangerous flying conditions, failed to return.
Australia’s one-legged Beaufighter pilot, Flight Lieutenant
Bruce Rose DFC was probably the last airman to see the Scharnhorst that day.
Flying through intense flak from the destroyer screen, he completely circled
the cruiser before leaving for base. It was almost dark when he left. Single
aircraft of Coastal Command which had been trying to shadow the German
formation since about 1600 obtained two sightings before dark and two or three
ASV contacts afterwards – the last of them, against the Scharnhorst, as late as
0155 on 13 February. Their reports correctly indicated that the German force
had split up, but were too late to be of any value. As a final effort, twelve
Hampdens and nine Manchesters were sent to lay mines in the Elbe estuary during
the night. Only eight aircraft laid their mines and none of these did any damage.
In the course of the evening, mines laid by 5 Group Hampdens or Manchesters in
the Frisian Islands during recent nights, caused some damage when the
Scharnhorst hit two mines and Gneisenau, one. The Gneisenau managed to maintain
company with the Prinz Eugen and reached the mouth of the Elbe at 0700 on 13
February. The Scharnhorst was more seriously damaged. With speed reduced to
twelve knots and shipping a thousand tons of water, she nevertheless managed to
limp into Wilhelmshaven. The news of the escape of the German vessels was
greeted in England with widespread dismay and indignation. ‘Vice-Admiral Ciliax
has succeeded where the Duke of Medina Sidonia failed,’ wrote The Times:
‘Nothing more mortifying to the pride of sea-power in Home Waters has happened
since the 17th century.’
Both the Scharnhorst and Gneisenau were located in Kiel
later. The Gneisenau received additional damage between 25 February and 28
February, during bombing raids on the dockyards at Kiel and was never in action
again. The Navy got the Scharnhorst in the end and she was sunk on Boxing Day,
1943, off Norway. The Prinz Eugen reached Germany safely, but later, when on
her way to Trondheim, was attacked off Kristiansund by HM Submarine Trident and
severely damaged. The cruiser tried to get away again early on the morning of
18 May 1942, this time from Trondheim. Twelve Coastal Command Beauforts found
and attacked her. Again Australian flyers helped to pound the 10,000-ton
cruiser. It was a first experience of enemy fire for at least two of them –
Pilot Officer E. Mc. McKern, a Beaufort pilot and his observer, Gordon L.
Duffield. They were in the first wave. Shells from the anti-aircraft guns were
whistling around them as they went in. Some of them burst over the aircraft’s
nose and above the starboard wing, but they kept flying on. Another shell burst
beneath the aircraft and shot it upwards. A Me 109 tried to stop it, but
McKern’s RAF gunner poured a stream of bullets into its engine and it turned
away, dropping down towards the sea. At 1,000 yards the Beaufort dropped its
torpedo. Then it went straight on across the bows of the Prinz Eugen at about
sixty feet and 600 yards in front of her. The destroyer ahead fired
determinedly at the Beaufort as it came on, but it escaped damage and the crew
got back in the last light to claim a ‘possible’ hit. Duffield brought back the
only photograph which showed clearly the cruiser and her four protecting
destroyers. Archer and Birchley, the Australians who had participated in the
Channel attack, took part, but both were shot down. Archer was killed, Birchley
taken prisoner.
On the night of 11/12 February the usual patrols over Brest
were flown from dusk to dawn. A reconnaissance on the previous afternoon had
revealed both battle-cruisers berthed at the torpedo-boat station, protected by
anti-torpedo booms and the Prinz Eugen at the coaling wharf. Six destroyers
were also in the harbour. Sometime during the night, which was pitch-black with
no moon, they slipped out. On the morning of the 12th the weather was still
thick and nothing was seen. A report received by Headquarters, Coastal Command,
at 11.28 stated that a large enemy naval force, including the Scharnhorst,
Gneisenau and Prinz Eugen had been sighted between Berck and Le Touquet. A
Beaufort, a Whitley and two Beaufighters were at once ordered off to shadow
this force, while Hudsons and Beauforts, provided with fighter escort,
endeavoured to deliver bombing attacks in the early hours of the afternoon. The
weather was so thick that they achieved no result and it proved very difficult
for the Hudsons and Beauforts to maintain contact with the fighter escort.
Beauforts carrying torpedoes delivered attacks off Holland, which were possibly
more successful. ‘One Squadron did so only at its second attempt. At the first
the enemy was not found. At least three torpedoes were observed to be running
strongly towards the targets and one crew reported that they had seen an enemy
warship listing badly with smoke pouring from her bows. The Beauforts were subjected
to very fierce anti-aircraft fire and to severe fighter opposition.
Most of them found the enemy by the simple process of
running into heavy flak fired by unseen ships. One made three attempts to
attack, but was by that time so badly damaged that its torpedo could not be
released. ‘I saw my leader waggle his wing,’ runs the account of one pilot.
‘That meant that he had seen the ships … The Prinz Eugen was steaming along
very slowly at the head of a tremendous line of ships. Destroyers were trying to
lay a smoke-screen round her … At that moment I saw two Me 109s fly across in
front of me… They circled to get on our tail and the Prinz Eugen was in my
sights.’ He dropped his torpedo and then the Beaufort became involved in a
heavy fight with the Messerschmitts. One of them was shot down and the other
made off. ‘My Beaufort was hit in twelve places … A bullet had gone through a
propeller and a cannon shell had ploughed a furrow in the tail-plane. The
action was fought very near to Overflakee Island off the Dutch coast. We
thought the name appropriate in the circumstances.’
In this confused and unsatisfactory action the palm for
courage, cold and unshaken, has rightly been awarded to the Swordfish of the
Fleet Air Arm, which, operating from one of the South coast bases of Coastal
Command, delivered their attacks about noon. They came in low in two flights of
three in the face of tremendous and accurate anti-aircraft fire, with swarms of
enemy fighters about them and all discharged their torpedoes. They were all
shot down and of the eighteen members of their crews only five survived.
On the afternoon of 23 February 1942 six Beauforts on 42
Squadron left Sumburgh for a sweep against enemy shipping. They reached the
Norwegian coast, but saw no vessels and on the return journey the aircraft
became separated. Suddenly Beaufort M, piloted by Squadron Leader W. H. Cliff,
went into an uncontrollable dive and hit the sea. Cliff and his crew, who only
a fortnight before had led 42 Squadron’s attack on the Scharnhorst and
Gneisenau, thought that their last moment had come; but by some miracle all
survived the impact and scrambled out, or were thrown clear, as the aircraft
went down. Fortunately one of them was able to secure the dinghy and this all
four men eventually succeeded in boarding. Very soon they were joined by one of
the two pigeons carried in the aircraft. They at once captured this welcome
arrival, attached to its leg a note of the approximate position of the crash
and launched the bird into the air. But the creature was wet and darkness was
already coming on. After performing a few perfunctory circles the pigeon merely
alighted back to the dinghy; and no amount of cajoling, or beating about the
head, could persuade it to resume its flight. Its fixed intention was obviously
to make a fifth passenger. In disgust the crew therefore abandoned their
attempts to drive it off and huddled together against the rigours of the
February night.
By this time the search had begun. The last known position
of the aircraft was 150 miles east of Aberdeen and throughout the night a
Catalina sought in vain for the distressed crew. At first light other aircraft
went out from Leuchars, Dyce and Arbroath, but several hours’ search yielded no
sign of the missing men. Meanwhile a pigeon had arrived back at base-not the
obstinate creature of the previous evening, but its companion from the same
basket. Unknown to the Beaufort crew, ‘Winkie’ – as the unfortunate bird was
called – had made his escape from the aircraft. He of course carried no
message; but this did not defeat the acute intelligences at the station. Since
he could not have flown in the dark, he must obviously have found somewhere to
rest; and an examination of his feathers revealed unmistakable traces of oil.
Someone hazarded the guess that he had spent the night on a tanker; enquiry
revealed that such a vessel had been passing off the North East Coast; and from
knowledge of its course and a calculation of the time taken by the pigeon to
reach base, the area of search was readjusted to fifty miles nearer shore. The
next aircraft sent out, a Hudson on 320 Squadron, flew almost straight to the
spot where the dinghy lay tossing on the waves. The crew wirelessed a message
to base and then dropped a Thornaby Bag. Three hours later a high-speed launch
arrived and the sufferings of the four bruised and frost-bitten airmen were
over.
The next occasion on which the Prinz Eugen was attacked by
Coastal Command was on 17 May 1942 when she was found off the Southern tip of
Norway seaming southward. She was on her way to a German port for repairs made
necessary because of the damage inflicted on her by HM Submarine Trident. The
attack was carried out by Hudsons and torpedo-carrying Beauforts escorted by
Beaufighters and Blenheims. It was pressed home with the greatest determination
in the teeth of heavy anti-aircraft and fighter opposition. The Beaufighters,
sweeping ahead, raked the decks of the German vessels with cannon and
machine-gun fire while the Hudsons and the torpedo bombers went in to the
attack. In this action the rear gunner of one of the Beauforts beat off a
series of attacks by enemy fighters lasting 35 minutes, though one of his guns
had jammed and he himself had been wounded in the face, hands, legs and head.
Five enemy fighters were claimed shot down and nine RAF aircraft failed to
return. Fighter protection was not always possible; the waters in which targets
were to be found were too far off. Blenheims, Beauforts and Hudsons still had
to go out into the murk of a foggy day alone and unescorted to strike at such
targets, themselves the target for German fighters. Sometimes a ‘strike’ was a
running engagement against opposition that would increase as the minutes and
the hours went by.
Aircraft of Coastal Command, between 3 September 1939 and 30
September 1942 escorted 4,947 merchant convoys, attacked 587 U-boats and, if
offensive operations against enemy shipping are included, flew 55 million
miles.
Hampden AN149/X on 455 Squadron RAAF captained by Flight
Sergeant J. S. Freeth took part in a hand in the submarine war on 30 April 1943
when U-227 suddenly appeared crossing the Hampden’s course, 110 miles north of
the Faroes. The boat, which was commanded by 25-year old Korvettenkapitän
Jürgen Kuntze, was on its first war cruise, having left Kiel on 24 April for
the North Atlantic. Freeth dived immediately and laid a stick of depth charges
alongside the conning tower. U-227’s stern rose ten feet out of the water and
sank again. The Australians made another attack and the U-boat split into two
parts with oil gushing from its sides. The German crew continued firing until
the U-boat slithered under, but the Hampden, although hit; suffered no
casualties. Afterwards the Australians counted thirty or forty heads bobbing in
the water. One sailor shook his fist at the Hampden as it flew off to notify
the Air Sea Rescue organization of the location. U-227 was lost with all 49
hands.
455 Squadron RAAF was converted from Hampden bombers to
Hampden torpedo bombers in July 1942 and for a time a detachment operated from
Russia. The presence of the Hampdens over the North Sea forced the enemy to
provide both escort vessels and air cover for their convoys. Torpedo-bombers
had to come down so low and keep such a straight course before they could launch
their torpedo that sometimes they almost collided with their targets before
they could pull up and away. It called for special training and outstanding
skill and judgment in assessing the speed and direction of a moving ship and in
launching the torpedo. Unless a torpedo was launched at the correct angle, it
would dive below the surface and then come up again and do another dive,
behaving just like a porpoise, instead of speeding straight to its target at
the correct depth below the surface. At first the torpedo was loaded in a line
parallel with the fuselage of the aircraft and the pilot had to approach the
surface of the sea at the exact angle at which the torpedo should enter. Then
the torpedo mounted the torpedo under the aircraft at an angle which enabled it
to be correctly launched when the aircraft was flying parallel with the
surface, or on an even keel!
It was the misfortune of war which led to Pilot Officer John
Davidson, a young New Zealander, receiving a direct hit from a flak ship while
he was seeking to bomb German E-boats off the Danish coast. Badly wounded in
the thigh and leg, he hung on despite his injuries and flew his aircraft for
300 miles over the sea to his base. The aircraft itself was considerably
damaged and when it arrived over the aerodrome the undercarriage was seen to be
out of order. The bombs were still on board and the watchers down on the ground
fully anticipated that unless the pilot could get the undercarriage to work,
the aircraft and crew would be blown to pieces when he attempted to land. For
half an hour the pilot flew around the aerodrome struggling to, make the
undercarriage function properly, but the task was beyond him.
‘Can you go out over the Wash and jettison your bombs?’
asked Control.
‘Yes,’ he replied and flew off over the sea to drop his
bombs; but owing to the damage to the aircraft there was one at the back of the
rack which stuck. Unaware of this menace, he flew straight in to make a .crash
landing and, as he touched, the bomb exploded and blew the tail to smithereens.
The observer and the pilot tumbled out as the engine flamed up and began to run
for their lives. Suddenly they thought of the rear-gunner, who was nowhere to
be seen. Those who were hastening to their aid saw them turn back and rush into
the flames and smoke. A few moments afterwards they emerged again, dragging Sergeant
Aslett, the rear-gunner, as though he were a sack of potatoes. He was peppered
with bits of nuts and bolts and scraps of metal and although he was knocked out
by the explosion and would certainly have lost his life if Pilot Officer
Davidson and the observer Sergeant Ross had not gone to his rescue, he
recovered along with his companions, to bring their tale of high courage to a
happy ending.
