Breakout

asked for a message to be passed at once to Leigh-Mallory. When he was told that he was on parade and not available, Oxspring said, 'I suggest you tell him. He'll be livid if he's not told.' But no one did.

While they were frantically trying to pass a message to Leigh-Mallory, Beamish and Boyd were flying back to Kenley — much farther away than Hawkinge. As they preserved radio silence, another thirty-five minutes passed before they could confirm Oxspring's sighting.

Beamish landed at Kenley at 11:10 a.m., and also immediately tried to get on the telephone to Leigh-Mallory to tell him the news. He too was unsuccessful, but he told Biggin Hill. A few minutes later Igoe came back on the phone to Oxspring and said, 'Group Captain Beamish with Wing-Cdr. Boyd were in the other two Spitfires. They confirm what you say. It is the Scharnhorst.' At the same time, other evidence was building up. Five minutes after Flt.-Lt. Kidd had managed to phone Dover via Portsmouth, the radar at Fairlight just east of Hastings picked up two big ships at 67,000 yards in the vicinity of Boulogne. This was a record for that type of set — and it confirmed Kidd's plot.

When this report reached Wing-Cdr. Bobby Constable-Roberts, Air Liaison officer on Admiral Ramsay's staff, whose job was to keep in constant touch with Fighter Command's Number 11 Group and Coastal Command's 16 Group, he picked up the telephone and asked 11 Group for a special reconnaissance over the Boulogne area. Number 11 again refused, saying it was unnecessary. Constable-Roberts then telephoned to warn 16 Group at Thorney Island saying, 'It might be our friends out in the Channel.'

He suggested that the Beaufort Squadron at St. Eval, and 42 Squadron on its way from Leuchars to Coltishall, should be alerted and ordered to fly directly to Manston. But he had no authority to order it.

At 11:05 a.m., although the RAF and the Navy were still unconvinced these were the German battleships, Constable-Roberts telephoned Manston and told Lt.-Cdr. Eugene Es-monde to put his six Swordfish on readiness. This was the first decisive step taken by the British armed forces to intercept the Scharnhorst and Gneisenaus daring dash. It was made by a junior Wing Commander.

At 11:30 a.m., when the coast-watching radar set at Lydden Spout between Dover and Folkestone, picked up a plot at a range of 46,000 yards, Beamish was trying again to reach Leigh-Mallory, who was still unavailable. Three times a staff officer came to the phone, and each time Beamish refused to talk to him. It was nearly another half- hour before Leigh-Mallory eventually came to the phone. He was in a very bad temper at being pestered personally on the phone by a mere Group Captain — he was a very rank-conscious officer — but he began to listen carefully when Beamish confirmed Sergeant Beaumont's identification. Only then was Leigh-Mallory convinced and the RAF issued a signal: 'Group-Captain Beamish was with 'Jim Crow' so there is no doubt.' It was 11:35 a.m. An hour had passed since Oxspring had radioed his first urgent warning from over the German ships in the Channel.

At the same time, Dover Command was officially informed of the break-out by telephone from the Admiralty War Room. Immediately, Constable-Roberts asked Number 11 Group for fighters to protect the Swordfish. Then he rang Esmonde at Manston and told him what he had done. Victor Beamish also telephoned from Kenley to the Manston commander, Tom Gleave, saying, 'It's 'Fuller,' Tom!'

Although the day had started out with some sunshine, it turned progressively to cloud and rain as the German ships raced up the mine-free lane in the Channel. They were approaching the Straits of Dover and still the British had taken no measures to stop them. Navigator Giessler aboard Scharnhorst looked at his synchronized watch. It showed 11:45 a.m. Galland was still maintaining wireless silence. So messages could not be sent between the ships and the Luftwaffe pilots. A flag that now began to fly constantly on the ships was the yellow square flag of the aircraft alarm signal, billowing against a grey sky alive with patrolling Luftwaffe fighters.

By noon they were off Cap Gris Nez, and tracked constantly by British radar, they were entering the narrowest part of the Straits. Up to now they had only had a glimpse of the RAF and there was still no sign of the Royal Navy. On the bridge of Scharnhorst the unspoken question was: What about the British heavy guns guarding the Straits? Although it was difficult to hit a battleship sailing at thirty knots, it was not impossible. Shore batteries firing armour-piercing shells could cripple the biggest ship if they had enough warning — but Martini's German jamming and bad RAF reconnaissance had made sure the British did not receive it.

The German squadron was now a most formidable armada. The protecting destroyers Richard Bietzen, Jacobi, Friedrich Ihn, Hermann Schoernann of flotilla 229, and six destroyers of 225 flotilla, sailed ahead of the main force. As the German battle-squadron arrived off Cap Gris Nez, a force of little ships joined them. The Second and Third and Eighth Torpedo Boat flotillas steamed up with five boats each. With them came the Second, Fourth and Sixth E-boat flotillas.

At 12:15 p.m., exactly according to their timetable, they arrived at the narrowest part of the Channel between Dover and Cap Gris Nez, where the British should be waiting to sink them with massive air-sea attacks and coastal gun barrages. Through gaps in the mist, they saw the English coast and began to catch an occasional glimpse of barrage balloons. Then the white cliffs of Dover came into view and they could plainly see the framework of the radar antennae.

The first officer, Cdr. Ernst Dominik, who had been on board the Scharnhorst ever since she was commissioned, waited for reports from every department of the ship. All the crews stood to, manning guns, waiting by boilers and engines. Others stood ready for damage and fire control. Every man of the 1,900 aboard Scharnhorst, the leading battleship, was expecting action.

Admiral Ciliax stood on the bridge gazing into the mist, with the collar of his heavy sheepskin coat turned up and his big Zeiss glasses hanging on their leather slings around his neck. Broad-shouldered Captain Kurt Hoffmann sat on the little emergency seat next to him, also wrapped in a sheepskin coat with a thick scarf wound several times round his neck.

Acting Chief Petty Officer Willi Goode stood at his director column at the side of the bridge with his night optical lenses which were also useful for day look-out. His telephone apparatus was slung around his neck ready for instant communication with all the ships' commanders.

Little was to be heard above the slap of the waves as Scharnhorst bounced through the narrow Straits at top speed. There was the occasional slam of a water-tight door, or the clatter of heavy boots down companionways. The faint regular hum of the electric generators spread through the stillness of the control positions and gun turrets. Everyone was conscious that at any minute the alarm might sound, and the silent ship would be suddenly transformed into a fire-belching monster.

To ease the tension, Admiral Ciliax pulled a packet of cigarettes from his sheepskin coat pocket and gave one to Captain Hoflmann. Tall, blond Chief Quartermaster Jurgens stepped forward to offer them a light. Inhaling deeply, the Admiral thanked him and offered him a cigarette.

Another officer remarked to Giessler, 'It's still like a practice cruise.' Giessler nodded, as he checked their position on the chart. He indicated with his pencil, 'Hier, Herr Kapitan.' Hoffmann checked it and showed it to Ciliax adding, 'Jawohl! Herr Admiral.'

They were nearly past the cliffs of Dover. Quietness still reigned. Why were the British so silent? They had almost come to believe they were to force the Straits unmolested, when there came a flash and a bang from the haze and a single shell fell harmlessly into the grey-green Channel behind them, a mile to port of the last ship, Prinz Eugen.

Although their intelligence reported the British guns were not so formidable, naturally Admiral Ciliax and his captains remained doubtful. They based their fears on their own batteries of 15-inch and 16-inch guns emplaced in the Calais area. So when the first shell splashed into the sea astern of Prinz Eugen, the Germans braced themselves for a ferocious bombardment from the heaviest British coastal guns.

VI THE CHANNEL GUNS OPEN UP

Just before midday 22-year-old Auxiliary Territorial Service private Nora Smith was sitting in a cafe in Dover's Market Square eating egg and chips. She was one of the eight ATS girls who for' the past three weeks had been in the process of taking over Dover Castle plotting room operation from the men.

Channel operations were directed from Dover Castle. A rabbit-warren of a place, standing high over the