The Mountbattens

by Andrew Lownie

Mountbatten inherited a Combined Operations HQ of only 23, including typists and messengers, which required complete reorganisation and he immediately made changes to personnel and communications. He insisted that it was a totally integrated service with the first loyalty to Combined Operations and not to the parent service, and successfully arranged to work with overlapping organisations such as the Special Operations Executive. He created four separate areas on the operational side: planning, intelligence, training and communications. By the New Year, it had expanded from its single floor at Richmond Terrace to take over much of nearby Scotland Yard, and within six months the staff of COHQ had grown to over 400.266

  Peter Murphy was brought in to look at the political implications of the various operations; Harold Wernher, George Milford Haven’s brother-in-law, dealt with procurement; Micky Hodges, an old navy friend, was in charge of signals, and the Mountbattens’ racing car chum, the Marquis of Casa Maury, made head of intelligence. Mountbatten always felt safest working with a close-knit group of glamorous friends – they came to be dubbed ‘Dickie’s Friends’ – whom he could dominate and trust, but this was rarely popular or effective.

  Robert Henriques, one of three novelists to serve in Combined Operations – (with Evelyn Waugh and Nevil Shute) was intrigued by Mountbatten’s ‘total inability to judge men correctly, whether they were his cronies or his subordinates, and yet with the power to command an uncritical loyalty from almost everyone . . . ?’267 Hugh Dalton, the Minister for Economic Warfare, noted worries in his diary that Mountbatten had ‘surrounded himself with a group of his personal friends, most of whom are not very good at their jobs.’268

  Mountbatten, an inventor of gadgets himself, was one of the most technically highly trained naval officers of his generation, and he immediately saw the need to bring in Combined Operations scientists who, as he never tired of saying, did not ‘have Staff College minds’.269 The crystallographer J.D. Bernal, biologist Solly Zuckerman, glaciologist and future winner of the Nobel Prize for Chemistry Max Perutz, and the eccentric Geoffrey Pyke all joined with instructions to think outside the box.

  Though left-leaning – Evelyn Waugh joining them for lunch thought them ‘a nest of Communists’ – they proved to be a great success, not least at the Normandy landings, covering such diverse subjects as the use of drugs to prevent seasickness, how to improve night vision, ration packs for commandos, the physiological consequences of explosions and the minimum safe distance from an underwater explosion.270

  Mountbatten, through a mixture of charm and ruthlessness, proved to be a decisive, forward-thinking commander with an ability to unite opposing factions in a common cause. He built up a good working relationship with the Chiefs of Staff, but it did not always make him popular. He had no hesitation in going above people’s heads, often dropping the names of the Prime Minister and the King to achieve his ends, and his staff found he involved himself in unnecessary intrigue. He could not resist micro-managing and obsessing about minor detail and would delegate tasks that they would then find he had impatiently done himself anyway. It became known as ‘doing a Lord Louis’.271

  A whole series of raids had initially been considered by Combined Operations, only to be discounted as infeasible, from a landing on the south bank of the River Somme to allow a force of armoured cars to make a rapid dash to capture Paris, and the capture of the Cherbourg Peninsula, to landings in the Channel Islands. However, within weeks of his appointment, Mountbatten had organised the first of ten raids of varying sizes, which took place in the initial six months of 1942.

  The first was a small raid at Vaagso, off the coast of southern Norway, targeting enemy shipping and the destruction of fish-oil production and stores that the Germans used in the manufacture of high explosives. What made Operation Archery especially significant was that it was the first operation jointly planned and executed by all three services and it was in fact a ‘pinch’ operation to seize an Enigma machine.

  In February, parachute troops were dropped onto the cliff top at Bruneval, north-east of Le Havre, demolishing the radar station and capturing key equipment. At the end of the month the dry dock at Saint Nazaire, where it was feared the German battleship Tirpitz might shelter, was destroyed by an obsolete destroyer packed with explosives being used to ram the lock gates, killing over 400 Germans. The raid has always been seen as one of the successes of Combined Operations – and one for which Mountbatten took full credit – but it came at a high price, with only four of the 18 coastal craft that sailed returning, over half of those who went ashore captured and a quarter killed, and many more seriously wounded. After the Fall of Singapore, and amidst Rommel’s growing victories in North Africa, it was an Allied morale booster – five Victoria Crosses were awarded – but it bred a dangerous confidence at COHQ, which was to have disastrous consequences only a few months later.

  These operations inflicted little damage on the Germans, but were important for morale and did much to enhance Mountbatten’s reputation, not least with Churchill, who shared his buccaneering spirit and offensive attitude. In March, Churchill made Mountbatten, then a junior captain, Chief of Combined Operations with the acting rank of Vice-Admiral – the youngest since Nelson – and a Lieutenant General and Air Marshal. Much to Mountbatten’s pleasure, only the King also held rank in all three services. He was also to sit as the fourth Chief of Staff and attend all meetings of the Chiefs of Staff Committee as a full member.

  The Chief of the Imperial General Staff, General Sir Alan Brooke, was not impressed. ‘Informed by the PM that I am to take over the chairmanship of the COS from Dudley Pound and that Mountbatten is to be additional member of the COS!’ he wrote in his diary on 5 March. ‘Rather doubtful how that business will run!’, and adding:

  Mountbatten’s inclusion in the COS was a snag. There was no justification for this move. His appointment as Chief of Combined Operations was excellent and he certainly played a remarkable role as the driving force and mainspring of this organisation. Without his energy and drive it would never have reached the high standards it achieved. However, the holding of this appointment was no reason for his inclusion in the COS, where he frequently wasted both his own time and ours.272

  The appointment was, however, good news for Combined Operations – giving them influence at the centre of decision making.

  * * *

  At the beginning of July 1941, on his return from Crete, Mountbatten had seen Noël Coward and told him the whole story of the sinking of the Kelly. ‘Absolutely heart-breaking and so magnificent,’ Coward wrote in his diary. ‘He told the whole saga without frills and with a sincerity that was very moving. He is a pretty wonderful man, I think.’273 Coward, keen to make a propaganda film about the Navy, raised the idea a few weeks later with Mountbatten, who was very enthusiastic. At the end of July, the two worked up the idea at Broadlands and during August, Coward drafted a script. The film was originally to be called White Ensign, but was later changed to In Which We Serve from one of the morning naval prayers.

  ‘Drove down to Broadlands,’ Coward wrote in his diary in December 1941:

  Quiet dinner, Edwina, Dickie and Lady Milford Haven. Long discussion with Dickie on general war situation and our naval losses. More and more convinced that he is a great man. His judgement seems to me to be sound and rational on every major issue. Discussed film script, which he has read. Was highly gratified that there were so few technical mistakes. Brief but hilarious lesson in naval deportment, salutes etc.274

  The film was making great progress, though an official at the Ministry of Information raised objections to a war film showing a British ship being sunk – as if that was a unique occurrence. Mountbatten, who did much to bring the film in safely, immediately arranged to see the official. ‘Dickie went off like a time-bomb and it was one of the most startling and satisfactory scenes I have ever witnessed,’ Coward recalled. ‘I actually felt a pang of compassion for the wretched official, who wilted under the tirade like a tallow candle before a str
ong fire.’275

  The film was shot at the Denham Studio in Buckinghamshire between February and June 1942. In April 1942, the King and Queen with the Princesses Elizabeth and Margaret, and the Mountbattens, visited the set. ‘The King took the salute and it was really very moving. It was charming of him to come in Naval uniform,’ wrote Coward in his diary. ‘I did the “Dunkirk” speech with the ship rolling and the wind blowing and a good time was had by all.’ 276

  Mountbatten had shown a keen interest in every element of the film’s production. The Lower Deck adviser was his cabin hand, who had been severely burnt when the Kelly was sunk, and he had personally arranged for 200 convalescent patients from the naval hospital at Haslar to be used as extras.277

  In the first script, the captain was married to Lady Celia Kinross and living in a house even larger than Broadlands with a Rolls-Royce and driver. Mountbatten objected and it was changed. ‘My Captain (D) is quite ordinary, with an income of about £800 a year, a small country house near Plymouth, a reasonably nice-looking wife (Mrs not Lady), two children and a cocker spaniel,’ Coward now reassured Mountbatten.278

  No one was fooled. The character was instantly recognisable by all as Mountbatten, down to his mannerisms and even verbatim speeches. Many of the scenes came from Mountbatten’s own experiences, most notably when the stoker, played by Richard Attenborough, abandons his post and the captain blames himself for not having successfully inspired the young man with his own heroic values.

  The film premiered in September 1942, the first time a premiere had been held on a Sunday, in aid of the Royal Navy Benevolent Trust, and attended by the First Lord of the Admiralty and the Mountbattens. Dickie was thrilled with it, seeing it twice more over the coming weeks – at a private performance for the King, the Queen and Mrs Roosevelt in the Buckingham Palace air-raid shelter, and at a special showing at Combined Operations headquarters – believing it to be a valuable booster of not only the Navy, but national morale at a time of few military victories.

  It became one of the most popular films of the year, winning an Academy Award, with Dilys Powell in the Sunday Times calling it ‘the best film about the war yet made in this country or in America’. It was one of Churchill’s favourite films and he was only dissuaded from giving Coward a knighthood by concerns about Coward’s recent court case on currency speculation. The film had done Mountbatten’s career no harm either.279

  * * *

  The entry of America into the war after the attack on Pearl Harbor in December 1941 provided new opportunities and resources for Combined Operations. Having created a truly integrated headquarters of all three Services, with a virtual monopoly on amphibious warfare, Mountbatten realised that Combined Operations needed to embrace the Americans and Canadians. By the summer of 1942, nine staff officers, headed by a brigadiergeneral, were part of joint planning. It was a further example of how Mountbatten’s outsider class status and easy familiarity with Americans made him stand out amongst his sometimes stuffy service colleagues.

  The Russians, joining the Allies after the German invasion in June 1941, put new pressure on Combined Operations to hold down German troops on the Continent. By the spring of 1942, the Russians were pleading for a diversionary landing to divert forces from the Eastern Front.

  Planning began for Operation Sledgehammer – a cross-channel invasion to take place in the autumn of 1942. Sholto Douglas (the head of Fighter Command) and Bernard Paget (the Commanderin-Chief, Home Forces) argued for a landing in the Pas de Calais. Not only was this the shortest crossing with the possibility of strong air cover, but it was the closest possible landing to the Rhine.

  Mountbatten and the COHQ argued that the coast was too heavily defended, the ports too shallow and it would be easy for the Germans to bring in reinforcements. They suggested the less well-fortified Baie de la Seine in Normandy, with its open beaches and opportunity to establish a beach head more easily. The arguments raged on throughout the spring of 1942. Mountbatten was certainly one of the champions of the landings being in Normandy, but whether he was quite the lone voice he later claimed is debatable.280

  In June 1942, General Dwight D. Eisenhower arrived in London as Commanding General, European Theatre of Operations (ETOUSA). He and Mountbatten were to work closely together, preparing for the invasion of Europe. The two men respected, trusted and liked each other, and Eisenhower pressed for Mountbatten to be put in charge of Operation Sledgehammer and the subsequent invasion. Throughout 1942, the arguments continued about the timing of the invasion – with Mountbatten arguing that the Allies did not have sufficient resources, especially landing craft, to succeed – but thought was now also being given to a smaller incursion as a holding operation politically. Its target was the French port of Dieppe.

  The operation was to be one of the most controversial of Mountbatten’s career.

  CHAPTER 13

  The Dieppe Raid

  The Dieppe Raid was meant to address American and Russian demands for the opening of another front and as a modest substitute for Operation Sledgehammer. Its raison d’être was as much political as military, though sometimes sold as an exercise in the challenge of capturing a working port without destroying it in the process. Dieppe had the advantage of being reached from Britain under cover of summer darkness and was a prize target, given the number of ships sheltering there and a nearby radar station and airfield.

  Preparations began in spring of 1942, but it was given fresh impetus by pressure from the Russians. The first plan was for flank landings of about 5,000 men several miles either side of the port, but this was quickly abandoned as taking too long for an operation designed to put troops ashore for less than 15 hours – and it would lose the element of surprise. Mountbatten accepted a revised plan of a frontal assault as long as there was a heavy air bombardment, but again concern was expressed about losing the advantage of surprise.

  The bombardment was agreed by Churchill on 1 June, but then reversed four days later with the Commander-in-Chief of South-Eastern Command, Lieutenant-General Bernard Montgomery, in the chair, whilst Mountbatten was in Washington. The Force Commander, Major-General Hamilton ‘Ham’ Roberts, argued that bombing would create blockages and make it difficult for the tanks to traverse the narrow streets. Trafford Leigh-Mallory, the Air Force Commander, felt Dieppe was so small that bombs would either fall into the sea or inland, and the Air Force might be better employed on diversionary tactics. The only covering fire, therefore, would have to come from the sea. Mountbatten wanted a battleship, but the recent loss of the Prince of Wales and Repulse to air attack put paid to naval support.281 Ditto it was regarded as too risky to send any cruisers. All that was on offer were some destroyers with guns of a modest calibre.

  Mountbatten now learnt that a political decision had been taken to substitute highly trained Marines and commandoes for inexperienced Canadian troops. The plan was beginning to unravel, but the operation was taking on a momentum of its own, not least under the pressure to appease Ivan Maisky, the Russian Ambassador in London, and his masters. Mountbatten, naturally impatient and over-confident, took the decision to proceed with the operation anyway, picking the first suitable day after 24 June.

  A dress rehearsal two weeks before did not augur well, with the darkness being blamed for troops being landed in the wrong place at the wrong time. The tanks arrived an hour after the infantry, and many of the troops suffered severe seasickness. In the end, on 7 July, bad weather led to the cancellation of a raid. Recent raids on Alderney and Bayonne had also been halted, and prudence would have been to leave alone (what had become known as) Operation Rutter, not least because the likelihood was that the Germans had now been alerted that Dieppe was a target.

  Tom Baillie-Grohman, the Naval Force Commander, and ‘Ham’ Roberts sent Mountbatten a memo arguing that the operation should be abandoned for good. Montgomery wrote to his immediate superior recommending that no similar operation be contemplated in future, but shortly afterwards he was posted to the Eigh
th Army in North Africa. Dieppe was the only plan in the locker and for the sake of morale, and sustaining his own reputation for delivering high-profile attacks, Mountbatten felt something should be done.

  Ignoring the warnings, he suggested the operation be resurrected under the name Operation Jubilee. Intensive lobbying took place over the coming days, until Baillie-Grohman was pushed out and the various doubting Thomases, such as Leigh-Mallory and Roberts, brought back on board. Admiral Bertram Ramsay’s entreaties to Mountbatten to abort the raid on 25 July were ignored.

  According to the new naval commander, John Hughes-Hallett, Mountbatten restated the case for rerunning Operation Rutter on 11 July. ‘Nothing was put in writing, but General Ismay informed the Chiefs of Staff and the Prime Minister, who gave their verbal authority.’282 Certainly, King George VI knew the next day, writing in his diary, ‘Dickie gave me the latest news of the COS conversations . . . He is rearranging Rutter under another name for the end of August.’283 According to F.H. Hinsley, official historian of British Intelligence in the Second World War, ‘The Chiefs of Staff gave their approval to Jubilee on 12 August.’284

  Churchill also appears to have known, telling Russian President Joseph Stalin on 15 August that ‘there will be a serious raid in August, although the weather might upset it . . . It will be a reconnaissance in force. Some 8,000 men with 50 tanks will be landed . . . The object is to get information and to create the impression of an invasion.’285 On the same day, he asked General ‘Pug’ Ismay, his chief military adviser, ‘What is position about renewal of Rutter?’286 To which Ismay replied the following day, ‘Jubilee, which is renewed Rutter in all essential features, is due to be carried out at first light August 18th’ and then ‘Jubilee has started.’287 It is therefore not true, as is often claimed, that Mountbatten acted alone without the knowledge of his superiors.