Breakout

realized his torpedoes had missed. There was nothing more he could do. He swung his boat away from the battle.

Meanwhile the other MTBs were trying desperately to approach nearer to the battleships. Arnold Forster of 219 and Tony Law of 48 twisted their boats furiously as they were attacked by the E-boats and increasing swarms of fighters. They steamed to within 400 yards of the E-boat screen to launch their torpedoes from a range of 3,500 yards.

When they approached their nearest to the German battleships, Able-Seaman McDonald suddenly rushed on deck carrying an old Ross rifle. Arnold Forster says, 'It was a World War I rifle which was used for sentry-go while we were tied up ashore. He started firing at the Prinz Eugen with this old rifle. He fired twenty-five rounds in all. I don't think he did any damage but it made him feel better.'

German fire now became so heavy that they sheered off and watched their torpedoes running. The Germans then switched their fire to Gamble, who followed in 45 ready to launch his torpedoes.

The torpedoes from the three MTBs began to run, but Gneisenau and Prinz Eugen turned 90 degrees to port and their last hope of a lucky hit vanished. Scharnhorst also turned towards the MTBs. This presented Australian Dick Saunders who had caught up, his engine working again, with a distant target. After firing his torpedoes he saw a plume of smoke spout up, but he too had missed. It was another shell landing. As the E-boat commanders, realizing the British boats had fired all their torpedoes, broke off the action and resumed station, suddenly out of the smoke-screen came the German destroyer, Friedrich Ihn, steaming at high speed towards Pumphrey's MTBs. Without torpedoes, they were helpless against the destroyer so they too immediately made smoke and scattered.

Friedrich Ihn chased them but her gunnery was inaccurate and all her shells missed. Yet she was overhauling them fast and any minute it looked as if they would be hit, so Arnold Forster and Law practised a little crude psychological warfare on the German destroyer. While she fired her 4.7 inch guns at them, they turned across her bows giving the impression that they were going to drop a depth-charge in her path. This confused the German gunners and caused her captain, Lt.-Cdr. Wachsmuth, to change course rapidly.

The chase lasted for five minutes. Arnold Forster's boat was bracketed by German shells, and he expected one to hit him at any moment. The two MTBs, dodging frantically, made for the Kellett Gut, a passage through the Goodwins too shallow for the destroyer to follow them. They hoped to put Wachsmuth's ship aground but a wreck on the sandbank marked the beginning of the passage, and when the destroyer spotted it she sheered off.

While Arnold Forster and Law were being chased by the Friedrich Ihn, British gun- boats 43 and 41 suddenly appeared. They had no torpedoes — only an Oerlikon 20-mm gun and two half-inch machine-guns. Stewart Gould and Roger King, hopping mad at having nearly missed the battle, made straight for the Friedrich Ihn at forty-three knots in their 63-foot boats, blazing away with their single Oerlikon guns.

Senior Officer Stewart Gould said, 'When we got within 1,000 yards of the destroyer, her fire was unpleasantly accurate. She had a small turning circle and her manoeuvring made us very uncomfortable.' They intended to try and sink the destroyer with their depth-charges but Wachsmuth, taking them for MTBs armed with torpedoes, veered away and steered Friedrich Ihn back towards the battleships. The Luftwaffe also suddenly turned away from the retreating MTBs and circled once again over the battle-fleet.

At Dover Admiral Ramsay was waiting for the MTBs to return and report. They were to tell him bad news. The first battle of the Straits had been lost.

Pumphrey in his report said: 'I feel a certain uneasiness in the fact that the MTBs engaged at such long range as to avoid danger and casualties. There were undoubtedly two courses open to me when I realized there was no prospect of crossing ahead of the E-boats. My first intention was to attempt to fight through the screen.

'This plan was abandoned as far as my own boat was concerned when the engines failed. The second alternative was to fire at the range dictated by the E-boat escort and this was what was done.

'When I signalled 'Out of action — continue,' to the MTBs I expected them to try and pierce the screen.

'I wish to emphasize that no order was given to them to do so — and in my opinion they acted correctly. For the choice lay between a slight chance of hitting at long range, coupled with the possibility of avoiding heavy damage to the MTBs, and an almost complete certainty of all boats being destroyed or so damaged as to be unable to fire torpedoes before the range had been appreciably reduced.'

In conclusion, Pumphrey complained about the lack of fighters and the late arrival of the gun-boats saying: 'With either, or preferably both, the MTB attack might have been a different story. The only fighters present were Germans, who attacked the MTBs intermittently and in a half-hearted manner.'

VIII 'POOR FELLOWS… IT IS NOTHING BUT SUICIDE'

On Wednesday 11 February, while Admiral Ciliax and his Captains in Brest worked on last-minute details of their break-out plan, Lt.-Cdr. Esmonde, leader of the Swordfish squadron at Manston, had an important function to attend. He drove to Margate, caught a train to London and went to Buckingham Palace to receive from King George VI the Distinguished Service Order awarded for his part in the Bismarck operation.

That evening when he returned to Manston, a small party to celebrate his 'gong' was held by the RAF and his own Fleet Air Arm flying crews. The party ended early and soberly for the crews had to be by their aircraft at four o'clock in the morning ready for take-off. This was a routine alert ordered for the pre-dawn danger period, when Admiralty believed the Germans might force the Straits.

They were 'stood down' at dawn on a cold crisp morning with freezing snow swirling over the runways at Manston. In the corner of the field by the Margate Road their six fragile, old-fashioned biplanes shook as their canvas-covered fuselages flapped.

After breakfast, the most experienced crew was down to lead the first practice torpedo flight. The pilot, Sub-Lt. Brian Rose, had been on the carrier Ark Royal, and his observer, Edgar Lee and his gunner, Leading Airman Ginger Johnson, were both Bismarck veterans.

As they climbed into their aircraft standing high on the cliffs along the south coast, Britain's radar sets were already picking up circling 'blips' of Galland's fighters over three big ships coming along the Channel. When the first reports came to Dover Castle and Wing-Cdr. Bobby Constable-Roberts, air-liaison officer, reported to Vice-Admiral Bertram Ramsay that these 'blips' must mean the Scharnhorst, Gneisenau and Prinz Eugen, both he and the Admiral realized that the only aircraft immediately available to attack them were the six old biplanes at Manston preparing for a night attack. But how could they send these slow-moving planes in daylight against the ferocious flak and heavy fighter escorts of the German battleships? It was certain death.

Admiral Ramsay thoughtfully picked up the telephone and asked for the First Sea Lord, Sir Dudley Pound, in Whitehall. He pleaded with him not to be asked to send these eighteen flyers on such a suicidal mission. Sir Dudley replied, 'The Navy will attack the enemy whenever and wherever he is to be found.'

Ramsay put down the phone and nodded to Constable-Roberts. He telephoned Wing-Cdr. Tom Gleave at Manston to say, 'The Scharnhorst and Gneisenau are out and approaching the Straits of Dover. Tell Esmonde.'

Esmonde was on the airfield supervising training practice when a battered Morris Minor came tearing down the runway with a messenger shouting, 'You are wanted on the phone urgently, sir.' He picked up the phone in the briefing hut to hear Tom Gleave say, 'The Scharnhorst and Gneisenau are approaching the Straits.' When Esmonde put down the receiver, he ordered Rose to stop practice at once and the rest of the air-crews were warned.

The message came as a complete surprise to the Swordfish crews, who had been 'stood down' until dusk. Most of the air-gunners were drinking coffee and reading in the Petty Officers' Mess. Twenty-year-old pilot Charles Kingsmill was having his hair cut when the order came to go to the briefing hut as fast as possible. When the crews arrived there, they found Esmonde on the telephone listening to the latest reports from the radar stations as the