time since they left Brest, Scharnhorst's mess decks had their tables down for the port watch to eat a hot supper instead of gulping emergency rations in gun turrets or battle stations.
The men, though tired, were still keyed up. Everyone was eager to tell his own story of the day's action. Gunners who had been in the main armament turrets and others who had been manning the lighter flak guns exchanged stories of the air and destroyer attacks. The members of the coastal artillery on board also gave their account of the ceaseless British air attacks.
Now everything seemed to be going like clockwork. At 7:34 p.m. Scharnhorst passed the Texel at almost exactly the time scheduled by Group West. Not only had they made up the two hours delay in setting out from Brest but also the time lost through striking the mine.
Gneisenau, making twenty-seven knots in waters where she should normally have sailed at ten, lost touch with Prinz Eugen in the same squall which separated Scharnhorst and the Admiral's destroyer. Then she also stumbled across the marker- boats lying off the Friesian Islands.
Eleven minutes later — at 7:55 p.m. — she shuddered and stopped as a sudden flash lit up the battleship followed by an explosion. She had also struck an RAF-dropped mine. Yet the mine explosion was felt less strongly on her bridge than Scharnhorst's mine had been from 1,500 yards. The middle engine failed at once, and Captain Fein ordered the other engines stopped in order to prevent too great a pressure on places where there was an inrush of water.
She drifted in the tides only six miles from Terschelling as damage-repair parties went below to investigate. Their examination showed a hole on the starboard side but only trivial damage. Reports coming in very quickly showed him that there were no more serious consequences. The mine had evidently gone off at right angles some distance from the ship.
Half an hour later, with the hole in her bottom near the stern blocked by a steel collision mat and with water-pumps operating, Gneisenau picked up speed. But her navigational equipment had broken down and she had to creep through the shoals using a hand lead. At times there was so little water under her keel that she had to reduce speed to eight knots. If she tried to go any faster her propellers stirred up enough mud from the bottom to stop her. She steamed uncertainly through the same area where Hermann Schoemann and Scharnhorst were looking for each other.
Prinz Eugen, having lost Gneisenau, was also moving blindly along the Terschelling banks at eight knots. She reported that she had no position and asked for a bearing.
At 9:35 p.m., when Scharnhorst was ten miles from the Dutch coast between Terschelling and Schiermonikoog, the sailors aboard were still talking about the action. One man on the mess deck was dramatically describing with outstretched arms how a Wellington had banked away from the hail of flak fire, when there came a gigantic jolt accompanied by heavy vibrations which seemed almost to wrench limbs away from bodies. The explosion sent Captain Hofi'mann hurtling against the helmsman on the bridge. It was followed by a series of sharp cracks and grating noises as sailors were thrown to the deck. The current failed and the lights went out. Fans and other electrical apparatus ceased to function and a great quiet descended. The engines once again stopped. Scharnhorst had struck another mine.
Wellington Then all the bells began to ring together and telephones and voice pipes which were undamaged reported, 'Helm jammed,' 'Engines stopped,' 'Gyro compass out of order,' 'Electric light circuit failed.' When the blue night lights were switched on they revealed that the damage appeared to be much greater than that caused by the afternoon mine.
The starboard main engine was damaged and stopped and the other two were jammed. The dynamo room and most of the auxiliary machinery was out of action. Several compartments on the starboard side were flooded and thousands of tons of water were rushing in, giving her a starboard list of seven degrees.
With communications broken down officers groped their way through the ship with torches, trying to assess the damage. As torches twinkled in the darkness they revealed smashed pipes, lights torn from sockets — even the welded compass fastening had broken away. Many instruments were useless. The shock had put the delicate prisms of the big guns out of trim. As the rest of their elaborate gear was affected they had become useless. They could not even be budged by hand.
Scharnhorst, dark and dead on the water, began drifting broadside towards the coast. She was as helpless as Worcester. And the Terschelling shoals were perilously near. It looked like the end of the voyage. Yet in spite of the extensive damage, her position was not so critical as it had been in the afternoon. For she was within the Heligoland Bight and the inky black night protected her.
As the night became colder and flurries of snow began to fall on deck, aboard the destroyer Hermann Schoemann Ciliax retired to the captain's sea cabin, which had been put at his disposal. Col. Ibel, the Luftwaffe liaison officer, was also somewhere below. Captain Reinicke was puffing his pipe on the weather side of the destroyer's bridge when suddenly he heard the deep rumbling noises of an underwater explosion. As it was followed within seconds by vibrations against the destroyer itself he realized it was not at any great distance. It came from the direction of the Scharnhorst. There seemed to be more than one heavy detonation. Or were some of the noises echoes?
Captain Reinicke ran to call Admiral Ciliax. But Ciliax, who had also heard the explosion, bounded hastily out of his cabin excitedly demanding information. With their blue-darkened flashlamps the destroyer signalman called up Scharnhorst. They got no reply. It looked ominous. Had her boilers gone up this time? Was she sinking?
It was over five minutes before a lamp spelled out the report from Hoffmann in Scharnhorst, who signalled at 9:42 p.m.: 'Have hit mine.' Although his fears were quietened, Admiral Ciliax, impetuous as ever, asked angrily, 'Why have they taken more than five minutes to give us the answering signal?'
The answer lay in the mine itself. The signalman's lamp in Scharnhorst had been broken by the force of the explosion. It had taken five minutes to produce another lamp. As there was silence after this laconic three-word message, Ciliax again thought she had gone down.
It was touch and go. The battleship drifted to starboard two miles from the perilous shoals as Chief Engineer Walther Kretschmer and his crew once again inspected the damage. They found rudder damage and three bolts sheared on the starboard engine. But at 10:15 p.m. — thirty-five minutes after the big explosion — the indefatigable Kretschmer was able to tell the captain, 'Ship is ready with starboard shaft for fourteen knots and the middle one for sixteen knots. Port shaft still inoperative.'
Slowly she began to steam again. But no more signals came from her. There were no details of damage, only silence.
Hermann Schoemann zigzagged through the inky darkness with her searchlight switched on looking for the flagship. Not for the first time in the operation Ciliax had lost touch. When nearly an hour had passed without finding her, he was certain Scharnhorst had sunk and ordered the destroyer to turn and steer for the starting point to try and pick up survivors of her crew. A strong smell of oil fuel drifting on to the destroyer's bridge deepened his fears. When their searchlight revealed a thick layer of oil on the water, the destroyer followed the oil-trail towards the navigational channel.
They found no sign of any wreckage. Had she sunk leaving only this trace? Keeping his searchlight trained ahead, Ciliax ordered the destroyer to increase speed. As destroyer and battleship circled round each other in the darkness both their blinker signals failed to be seen. It was not until 10:39 p.m. that Ciliax on the destroyer picked up a message from Scharnhorst: 'Ready to proceed at twelve knots. Please pilot me as echo-sounder has failed.'
For some reason Ciliax did not realize she was sailing under her own power again. At 10:46 he broke silence to radio shore installations in code: 'Scharnhorst in urgent need of help. Also tugs.' At the same time he asked for Scharnhorst's position from the escorting torpedo boats.
Hoffmann noted in his log: 'I perceive from this that he is no longer in the picture over Scharnhorst's position.' At 11:30 p.m. Ciliax cancelled his 'urgent need of help' message. This was because a few minutes earlier Hermann Schoemann's searchlight had
