It was then that the inexperience and undue ardor of the French fast destroyers on that flank caused a bit of a faux pas that spared the British heavy ships further damage for the moment. The three destroyers led by Le Fantasque came cutting across the bow of Richelieu again, running at their amazing top speed that was approaching 45 knots. Le Terrible and Le Malin followed, and behind them L’Audacieux had joined this group, which was now attempting to make a high speed torpedo attack.
Devonshire and Cumberland had both wisely come to port, crossing ahead of the British battleships and then turning south away from the torpedoes in a big hook. The bigger battleships labored on for some minutes as Cunningham gaped at the speed of the French ships, their long sleek hulls gleaming behind frothing bows. Amazingly, the destroyers had begun to make smoke as they made their approach, which obscured the whole region between the bigger ships and imposed a halt on that main gun action.
“Damn impudent!” said Cunningham, then he quickly ordered a fifteen turn to port, getting Resolution on a heading to avoid the first spread of enemy torpedoes. Barham, however, was unable to follow suit. The fire aft from the severe hit she had taken was threatening several boiler rooms, and her speed had fallen off to 17 knots. The French destroyers had broken up the fight just when their battleships were getting the better of it, but now they paid for that ill timed maneuver by getting a hit. A 21.7 inch torpedo struck home, shaking the old battleship Barham yet again.
Cunningham saw the hit amidships, a worried expression on his face now, replacing the cool confidence he had displayed for the first time. “I think we’d better hear from Captain Cooke about that,” he said in a low voice, and Captain Bevir gave a discrete order to have a signal sent requesting Barham’s status.
When next sighted, the French battleships had unaccountably turned ten points to starboard, and to Cunningham’s eye they appeared to be breaking off. He led his squadron into yet another fifteen point turn to port, running about 210 for a time, and then thought the better of his situation and came around to 150 on course away from the French battleships. Devonshire and Cumberland saw the maneuver and matched it smartly, and it appeared the action was concluding, though they continued to fire at a pair of French heavy cruisers, Foch and Algiere, that had been behind the line of the bigger battleships.
Admiral Plancon saw the British turn, half angered, and half impressed by the brave charge of the four destroyers, and so he ordered Richelieu to come thirty points to port, intending to continue the battle at longer range. Now one other advantage of the new 15-inch guns on the French battleships came into play—their tremendous range. They could elevate to fling their big rounds out an astounding 45,000 yards in testing, though no one thought they would ever hit anything at such a range. After Cunningham’s final turn the range had opened to about 18,000 meters again, but when the French gunners re-sighted the British battleships they began to pour it on again from all twenty 15-inch guns.
And they were getting hits.
Part VIII
One Fine Morning
“Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that’s no matter—tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther. . . . And then one fine morning—
So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.”
—F. Scott Fitzgerald
Chapter 22
It was time for the cavalry.
The fast French destroyers had raced southwest, outrunning the fire put on them as the British gunners struggled to adjust their range, never having faced a ship with such speed before. During the main gun duel, the British destroyer squadron had turned southwest behind the battleships, crossing their wakes. Now the squadron leader aboard HMS Fury, Lieutenant Commander Terence Robinson ordered all ahead full in an attempt to get after the French destroyers, which had just made another high speed turn to make their final torpedo run against the lumbering British battleships. Yet they would not get there in time.
The French destroyers surged forward to get inside 5000 meter range and brazenly fired their torpedoes. They were well aimed and would be difficult for the slow British battleships to avoid. Minutes later Cunningham felt HMS Resolution shudder under the impact of a good hit forward that he saw coming but could simply not evade. Barham was also hit yet again, her speed now falling off to only 12 knots.
Seeing the plight of the British battleships, Admiral Plancon urged his Captains to turn south and finish them, and this they did, with the sharp bow of Richelieu leading the way. It looked to be a very bad day for the Royal Navy, now outgunned twenty to fourteen, and with both battleships wounded and Barham down on one knee.
Cunningham swore under his breath when he saw the French battleships turn, knowing they had the speed to close to any range they desired. The French destroyers had finally turned about, and were fleeing from a fistful of angry British destroyers, with both sides exchanging gunfire during the chase. At 36 knots the British were running full out, but the big French destroyers had nearly a ten knot advantage on them, and LtC. Robinson knew he would never catch up. He had chased them off, giving Cunningham’s damage crews a little time in the corner, but now the bell was sounding again and the French heavyweights were coming to the center of the ring, smelling the blood on their foes and looking for a knockout.
They hadn’t counted on one last arrow in the Royal Navy’s quiver, however, or on one determined young Captain that was taking aim even now aboard the carrier HMS Glorious.
Far to the south Captain Christopher Wells had been receiving reports from his scout planes as the action unfolded, and he immediately knew he would have to get his Swordfish up and ready for battle. He had the last of 825 squadron up and circling over the carrier, joining two flights from 823 squadron to make twenty planes in all. When he heard that Barham appeared to have taken a big hit aft, he knew he had to fling his squadrons north at once.
The last of the Old Stringbags dipped their wings in farewell and the light horse hastened north, and they came upon the scene just as the French destroyers were scurrying away after their final torpedo run. Lieutenant Commander Jim Buckley was the nominal strike commander, and he ignored the destroyers, roaring overhead to get at the real threat posed by Richelieu and Normandie. He would receive the DNC that day for his gallant attack, steady on in his attack run as he led the Swordfish in. LtC. Leslie “Bill” Baily and Telegraphist Donald Bunce would also get awards, posthumously. Their plane was the victim of the heavy Ack Ack fire thrown at them by the Richelieu, though they still got their torpedo in the water, and it was aimed well enough to score a hit.
Four Swordfish were shot down by the six twin 37mm AA guns on each battleship, a high cost in the action, but one that was heated enough to give the French second thoughts about continuing. When Richelieu was hit by the first wave of ten planes and Admiral Plancon saw yet another wave swooping low to attack, he gave the order to turn about. The big ships swept around in a wide arc, reversing their course and steering to avoid the deadly torpedoes.
Jim Buckley scored his hit on the Normandie, but her superb underwater protection, among the best on any ship in the world, prevented serious damage. Seeing that his pilots had turned back the French advance, Buckley ordered his mates to form up again after they had already launched their torpedoes, as if yet a third wave of planes was ready to follow in the last of 825 Squadron.
The French had seen all they wanted of these pesky Swordfish, with both ships hit and many near misses that were only narrowly avoided during tense moments on the bridge of Normandie. The cruisers Foch and Algiere matched the turn made by the battleships and the whole French formation headed north, leaving the British to lick their wounds. The Force De Raid had lost the light cruiser George Leygues, with Montcalm damaged and out of the action. Richelieu had taken two 15-inch hits and a 21 inch torpedo, but was still seaworthy and able to make 28 knots. Normandie had been unscratched by the
British guns, and shrugged off a torpedo from Jim Buckley, but the jab was stiff enough to back her off.
For their part, the British destroyers had acquitted themselves well, finally chasing off the pesky French destroyers. Devonshire and Cumberland had minor damage, though Cumberland’s aft Y turret was out of action. Resolution had taken three hits and a torpedo, but Barham got the worst of the beating with four 15-inch gun hits, the loss of an aft turret, and two torpedoes to the body, both on the same side of the ship. She was listing badly and her Captain Cooke was counter-flooding to try and stabilize the ship.
Resolution moved ahead and took her in tow, and with the two heavy cruisers in attendance, the British squadron limped south, bound for Freetown. De Gaulle fumed when he received word that the planned landing at Dakar would have to be cancelled, and his troop convoy was turned about as well.
“Operation Menace” was over, or so it seemed, but the French also had one last parting shot to administer. Hidden beneath the sea, a doughty knight named Lancelot was peering through his periscope at the ponderous retreat of the British battleships. He quietly turned the nose of his sub, the Beveziers, and fired a pair of torpedoes at the trailing ship, like a wolf singling out a wounded water buffalo. They would both strike home on the badly damaged aft quarter of the ship, and it would be the final blow for old Barham that day.
Already foundering, Barham began to ship more water heavily aft, and the damage was so severe that it was soon evident the venerable old ship would be lost. Captain Cooke got the bulk of his crew off to be pulled out of the heartless sea by the British cruisers. The destroyer squadron churned up the area looking for Captain Lancelot and Beveziers, but to no avail. All things considered, the French Navy would soon realize it had scored its first victory against its old nemesis since the days of Napoleon, when a French squadron in the Indian Ocean, under Guy-Victor Duperré achieved a victory over a British Royal Navy squadron commanded by Captain Samuel Pym in August 1810.
Britain now concluded that it was facing a dangerous new foe with the French squadrons based at Casablanca and Dakar. This threat, and the shadow looming over the Rock of Gibraltar, now became the focus of the war. When First Sea Lord Dudley Pound learned of the setback, and the details of the battle were forwarded, he immediately began looking for a head to chop off.
The reinforcements Vichy France had sent to Dakar had played a prominent part in the battle. While the light cruisers Georges Leygues, and Montcalm were badly beaten, with the former sunk, three large destroyers that had joined Admiral Plancon’s task force had ended up causing considerable harm after finding their nerve. Pound insisted the ships should have been intercepted as they transited the straits of Gibraltar, and fixed blame for this failure on Admiral North, who was Somerville’s nominal commander at Gibraltar.
As to the conduct of the battle itself, there was much ballyhoo in the reports, and the actions of Christopher Wells were roundly praised. It was decided that his timely air strike had perhaps prevented the loss of the battleship Resolution as well. Wells had received no orders to mount his strike at that time, and did so on his own initiative. While Vice Admiral Cunningham received some criticism for his conduct of the battle, his head did not seem big enough to put on the chopping block. Instead the conduct of Wells was used as an example of proper initiative in time of dire threat, and became the whip the Admiralty used to flay Admiral North for failing to intercept the French reinforcements.
The word soon went forth from Whitehall: “Their Lordships cannot retain full confidence in an officer who fails in an emergency to take all prudent precautions without waiting for Admiralty instructions.” North was soon packing up his desk at Gibraltar, but before he could catch his plane home, other events of a much greater magnitude would overtake him.
* * *
News of the French victory echoed in the halls of Berlin, and Hitler’s last reservations over adoption of Operation Felix were put aside. “The French put their battleships to good use,” he crowed as he signed the final orders. Plans for the operation were then given the highest priority, and a meeting was convened with all the principle commanders to finalize matters. At that time, Admiral Raeder emphasized the importance of the Atlantic island outposts in the Azores, Cape Verdes and Canary Islands.
“These must be also considered as primary objectives,” he urged. “They should be one of our main blows against Britain.”
“And how do you propose we get the troops there, Raeder?” Hitler’s question was an obvious one. “You cannot even promise me command of the Denmark Strait! Must I go to the French for naval support in such an operation?”
Raeder reddened under the insult, though the truth behind it was the real sting. The French had just turned back a British operation aimed at Dakar. Might they not then provide the perfect covering force for the extended operations from Gibraltar to Spanish Morocco and the Atlantic Islands? He stiffened as he regarded the map on the conference room table, swallowing his pride and thinking strategically to give the best advice he could.
“What you say is obviously true, my Führer, but the French cannot conduct such an operation alone. The British have just suffered a humiliating defeat, and they will be keen to avenge it. I have little doubt that they are planning reprisals even as we speak. Certainly they will have their eyes on these Atlantic islands, even as we do. The seas around the Azores, for example, are a black hole. That region is too far away for them to provide air cover, and so it makes good hunting grounds for our U-boats. They will want to redress that.”
“Canaris?” Hitler looked at his intelligence chief now. “What do you know about this?”
“We have developed some information that the British have such operations planned. One is aimed at the Azores, under the code name “Accordion.” Another is aimed at the Cape Verde Islands under the code name “Sackbut.”
“Sackbut? What in the world is that?”
“I believe it refers to a musical instrument of the renaissance era, my Führer, a trombone.” Canaris pantomimed the instrument as he spoke. “The name literally means push-pull.”
“Yes? Well if the British have such operations planned then push may soon come to shove. I will direct the Luftwaffe to see to the possibility of air lifting troops to these islands. Once they get there it will be Raeder’s responsibility to keep them supplied.”
“In this the French forces at Casablanca and Dakar will prove most useful,” said Raeder. “Once the first phase of the Gibraltar operation is concluded, and that port is secure, then we will see what we can develop in the way of naval support for this extended thrust to the islands. Once secured, they will prove invaluable to our U-boat operations and force the British convoys to traverse the deep Atlantic. This is an operation that could decide the war. I will therefore consider it a top priority that heavy units of the Kriegsmarine break out for deployment to this region. We are working round the clock to prepare adequate facilities at Brest and Saint Nazaire, and also to move enough anti-aircraft defense to those ports to protect them from inevitable attack by the R.A.F.”
At this Goering spoke up, his cheeks red, eyes alight, for here was finally an operation his Luftwaffe could undertake with every hope of success. “Now that the direct attack on Britain has proved to be more challenging than we expected, I will be able to relocate fighter assets to protect these ports and support our Mediterranean strategy. I can provide one fighter wing and two bomber wings. Our initial air raid will be launched from Bordeaux. While this is underway the other fighters will transfer to bases near Seville.”
“Yes?” said Hitler, his eyes dark and unfriendly. “I hope you put them to better use here, Goering. Do not think I believe those inflated statistics you have sent me on British losses over England. I have it on good authority that your air offensive has been a disaster! That said, I can perhaps believe what you say now. The British have very little in the way of fighter defenses to oppose Operation Felix.”
“Now that we will have acces
s to airfields in Spain, that will remain the case,” said Goering.
“Very well,” Hitler concluded. “With Gibraltar secure, we will continue the operation, occupy Spanish Morocco, and then immediately move troops by any means possible to the Western Sahara.”
“A preliminary appraisal of good basing areas has already been prepared,” said Goering. “Certainly we can gain access to the French bastions there at Casablanca and Dakar, and the Rio de Oro area south of the Canary Islands has been selected as good ground for an aerodrome.”
“What troops will be assigned to the operation?” Hitler looked at Keitel now, representing OKW and the Army.
“My Führer, the Sturmdivision is now ready for action. The 98th Regiment of First Mountain Division will be commanded by General Hubert Lanz, and his men are hardened veterans from South Bavaria. They have been joined by Count von Schwerin's motorized Infantry Regiment Grossdeutschland. The elite Brandenburgers will spearhead this attack on Gibraltar.”
“And what if the British land in Portugal?”
“Two mobile divisions will prevent that—the 16th Panzer and 16th Motorized.”
“And the islands under discussion?”
“Once Gibraltar is secured I have earmarked three infantry divisions for support and follow up. Goering has assured me he can move men by air if need be.”
“I have been collecting transport aircraft required,” said Goering. “The 22nd Luftland Air Landing Division performed admirably during the invasion of the Netherlands. They are the right men for the job. Infantry Regiment 16 of this division is ready for immediate transport to Spanish Morocco. It will be accompanied by the Division Reconnaissance Battalion, and Pioneer Battalion 22.”
Kirov Saga: Hinge Of Fate: Altered States Volume III (Kirov Series) Page 19
