Breakout

Everyone scanned the charts thinking of every conceivable situation — but no action signal came.

As all night leave was stopped, the ratings assumed that something big might happen. Ted Tong, 41-year-old PO. steward aboard Whitshed, told his wife Violet, who was living near Harwich, that something big was brewing. He confided to her that Lt.-Cdr. W. A. Juniper, captain of Whitshed, kept walking up and down the wardroom twisting a match-box in his hand, as he always did when he was thinking over a problem.

The only other forces ready when the attack came were six motor-torpedo boats in Dover and three in Ramsgate. The Dover boats were commanded by Lt.-Cdr. Nigel Pumphrey, the Ramsgate boats by Lt. D. J. Long.

So, to contest the passage of the battleships through the Dover Straits the Royal Navy had six Fleet Air Arm Swordfish at Manston, nine MTBs at Dover and Ramsgate, and six 20-year-old destroyers at Harwich. It was a pathetic force to put against the might of the German battle squadron, steaming at thirty knots under the shadow of the greatest air umbrella any ships had ever had.

On 11 February reconnaissance reports showed Scharnhorst, Gneisenau and Prinz Eugen out of the repair yards and lying against fuelling wharves. Six destroyers were also in harbour. But the boom defences were still in place.

Admiral Ramsay at Dover made his preparations. His plan was to slow down and cripple the battleships with combined torpedo attacks by the MTBs and Swordfish, while they were in the range of the Dover heavy guns. If the Germans sailed through in moonlight, the Swordfish were to attack singly. They were to be directed by Flt-Lt. Gerald Kidd, the RAF Controller at Swingate, while Hurricane fighter bombers were to drop flares over the German ships. If they managed to scrape through the Straits they would be attacked by the whole might of the RAF Captain Mark Pizey's six destroyers were then to attack off the Dutch coast, in an area where they could fight unhampered by the British minefields. It was not much of a plan even for a night dash.

^Hurricane

III 'YOU WILL KISS YOUR WIFE TONIGHT'

On 11 February a German supply petty officer went ashore as usual to collect the officers' laundry and the mail. The officers had to wait a long time for their clean shirts and the crew for their mail, as he received an additional order-to stay ashore and await further instructions. Not until the ships had sailed did he receive his orders — to deliver the bags to Wilhelmshaven and Kiel. Eventually he brought the ships' laundry and the mail by a regular German train running across France direct from Brest to Wilhelmshaven. It was known as the Submarine Train, as it mostly carried U-boat supplies.

Among the officers who had to wait a long time for his shirts was Chief of Staff Reinicke. Although he spent most of his time aboard Scharnhorst he had rooms ashore where he kept personal belongings. When he boarded Scharnhorst that morning he left all his clothes behind. He did not dare pack anything in case French dock workers on the quai Lannion might notice his taking a suitcase on board — and wonder why.

As a result of this precaution he had to borrow shirts and collars for seven weeks. But not everyone was deceived by these elaborate subterfuges. Small oversights occurred. Thirty-six-year-old Lieutenant Wilhelm Wolf was one junior officer who did not fully believe in this 'exercise' of the ships. A car was used for ferrying officers to and from the nightly RAF air attacks. When he saw this car being taken on board it seemed to him a strange cargo for a short exercise.

And in the German naval bases of Kiel and Wilhelmshaven the coming break-out was an open secret, particularly among the wives of the destroyer crews. As they left one by one to steam westwards down the Channel the women gossiped over their coffee, 'They are going to escort the battleships home through the Kanal.' In spite of these indiscretions, since these were German naval bases, not French ports surrounded by hostile inhabitants, the secret remained safe.

Everything stood ready for the break-out. Ruge's minesweepers reported they had cleared a safe passage. Captain Bey's destroyers and torpedo boats were concentrated in Brest.

Colonel Galland had brought up 280 aircraft for the air umbrella. Fuel reserves were held ready at French coastal airfields and new temporary air strips had been laid out. The liaison between Ibel's Luftwaffe officers aboard the ships and the fighter cover had been fully and finally tested. General Martini's powerful radar installations strung along the English Channel coast were ready to paralyse the British radar by jamming.

It looked as if they were to have the best conditions — a strong tidal current running with the ships. The meteorologist also predicted low cloud and haze along the Channel.

With everything prepared and the weather forecast proving ideal, Ciliax decided to go ahead. At noon he called Captains Helmuth Brinkmann of Prinz Eugen and Otto Fein of Gneisenau to join Captain Kurt Hoffmann and himself in the Admiral's cabin aboard Scharnhorst.

Once again he reiterated to them the importance of following Group West's instructions to the letter. There was little chance any of them would not do so as these secret orders appealed to their temperament. They were a model of meticulous planning with little scope for personal initiative. Ciliax said, 'It is a bold and unheard of operation for the German Navy. It will succeed if these orders are strictly obeyed. There is no margin for interpretation. They must be adhered to at all times. Ships will sail in the following order— Scharnhorst, Gneisenau and Prinz Eugen—with escort forces taking station outside harbour in accordance with their instructions.

'Do not seek combat, but only engage the enemy if the operation cannot otherwise be carried out. The task of proceeding eastwards quickly is paramount.'

Then he ordered champagne and they drank to the success of 'Operation Cerberus.' After the toast he said farewell to his commanders and wished them good luck before they returned to their ships'

Despite his champagne toasts to the operation's success, Ciliax remained privately pessimistic. He had not changed the view he expressed in his memoranda to Admiral Saalwachter. He did not mind the fact that Group West's orders left him no room for manoeuvre, but he privately thought the operation had at best only a chance of partial success.

So that afternoon after the Captains had left, he sat down and wrote the following entry in his log:

'I want to take this opportunity to make the following observations to give my point of view upon the completion of preparations so long planned. I no longer regard the withdrawal from Brest as absolutely necessary. The danger from the air is not so great now we have flak fighters, camouflage, barrage balloons and artificial fog.

'It also appears that the enemy has come to the same opinion. Although his air-force still comes over by day and night, the flak defence in its full strength, supported by the fog apparatus, considerably reduces the effectiveness of attack.

'Random hits are of course possible and must be taken into account, but this is really only a matter of chance. Therefore Brest must be regarded as a usable base in its present state of defence, especially taking into consideration that the shipyards are able to meet all possible requirements. Long-term missions such as were undertaken in the spring of 1941 cannot be mounted again, but local sorties can be carried out in co-operation with the Luftwaffe or with U-boat reconnaissance. These can lead to noticeable successes against north-south convoys and in the sea area west of Gibraltar.

'Against this, we must reckon all the imponderables inherent in sailing through the Channel. If the break-out in the Channel does succeed we must reckon with damage which the ships concerned will suffer. This may mean they will only be operational again after a considerable time.

'I do not venture an opinion as to the strong strategic threat to the Norwegian zone. Accordingly, I cannot