England's Last War Against France

by Colin Smith

  Uproar. Howls of protest and repeated pleas for order from the mess president until the din slowly subsided. Vietnamese stewards from French Indochina began serving coffee. Shortly afterwards came news that might well have brought orders for large digestifs to go with them. British aircraft were trying to bottle them up by dropping mines near the harbour entrance.

  Ark Royal’s Swordfish biplanes had laid five, all of them seabed magnetic mines fused to rupture a ship’s nether parts as her steel hull passed over them. This was Somerville’s first hostile action against the French and he hoped it would be his last. Somehow he had to convince Gensoul that this outrageous business was not a bluff.

  The midday sun had made the guard rails on his flagship the Hood untouchable and eyelids heavy. Most of Force H had snatched only three or four hours’ uninterrupted sleep since leaving Gibraltar the night before. Nor had they altogether adjusted to July in the Mediterranean. On the Hood, hardly two weeks out of Scotland, the officers’ wardroom lunch had been a piping-hot stew followed by rock cakes. For the men, served at their action stations, there was hot soup and great doorsteps of sandwiches filled with the canned bully beef they called ‘corned dog’. Sailors over twenty could wash it down with their daily tot of free rum British seamen had drunk since well before Nelson’s time. The 200 or so teenagers on board got lime juice.

  Among these unrummed ones was signaller Ted Briggs who had joined the navy as a 15-year-old boy signaller at the shore establishment HMS Ganges, survived its spartan training and after almost a year on the Hood was still eight months short of his eighteenth birthday. Briggs, who worked on the flag deck above the bridge where the yeoman of signals jotted down Foxhound’s heliographed Morse, was watching Somerville pace up and down like a caged tiger apparently oblivious to the heat. The teenager thought he was looking at a man who was not about to wait much longer.

  At 1415 the Foxhound’s projector started to relay another message from Gensoul.

  I HAVE NO INTENTION OF PUTTING TO SEA – STOP – I HAVE TELEGRAPHED MY GOVERNMENT AND AM AWAITING A REPLY – STOP – YOU SHOULD NOT BELIEVE THE SITUATION TO BE BEYOND HOPE – STOP

  Somerville replied:

  PASS TO GENSOUL – STOP – IF YOU ACCEPT THE TERMS HOIST A LARGE CHEQUERED FLAG AT THE MASTHEAD OTHERWISE I MUST OPEN FIRE AT 1500.

  Then twenty minutes before the deadline was due to expire, and about one and a half hours after the mines were dropped, there came another signal from the Dunkerque:

  AM PREPARED PERSONALLY TO RECEIVE YOUR REPRESENTATIVE FOR HONOURABLE DISCUSSIONS – STOP

  Somerville’s instincts told him the French were playing for time. ‘But I decided that it was quite possible Admiral Gensoul only now realised that it was my intention to use force if necessary.’

  So once again, perhaps against his better judgement, the deadline was extended. The new time was 1730. Meanwhile Captain Holland returned to Foxhound’s lowered motorboat and set off for Mers-el-Kébir which was now about 7 miles away because the destroyer’s captain, expecting that hostilities were imminent, had thought it prudent not to make it too easy for the harbour’s coastal batteries. It was estimated that it would take Holland about an hour to get there.

  Gensoul was hoping for the best and preparing for the worst. The best was that Somerville was indeed carrying out an elaborate bluff intended to make him scuttle his ships. All he had to do was keep his nerve and the British would sail away because, however much the armistice had changed the world, they had never intended to sink his squadron regardless of the cost in French lives. But if the worst was the case, it was his intention to spin out the talks long enough ‘to gain the advantage of darkness’ and escape to Toulon. Already he was in a better position to fight his way out than he had been when Foxhound first turned up at at his front door.

  For by the end of the morning the breech blocks had been restored to the coastal batteries Santon and Canestal; at the last count forty-two aircraft had been rearmed and were ready for take-off; tugs were standing by to help move his big ships smartly away from the jetty if he ordered them to put out to sea. And with this in mind, some of the big buoys that held up a section of the steel anti-submarine net had been sunk with machine-gun fire in order to widen the passage out of the harbour and their chances of avoiding Somerville’s mines.

  Everything that could be done had been done. For the 6,000 or so men under his command all that remained was to sit at their action stations and wait. For those among them who had longed for the chance to show what the French Navy could do against the Germans there was an exquisite irony about their plight that made it even more insufferable.

  In the engine room of the Dunkerque, Ingénieur mécanicien de première classe Xavier Grall had swapped a safe posting with a Brest coastal battery within commuting distance from home for a berth on the battle cruiser where his close friend Albert Borey, another Ingénieur mécanicien, was serving. His wife Herveline had been four months pregnant with their third child when he went away. As it happened, Dunkerques’s deployment with Gensoul’s Force de Raid had enabled him to be back for the birth of their son Hervé on 30 March 1940. Then he sailed away again. Herveline had known it would be like this when she married him: they both came from naval families living close to Brest in the small port of Landévennec in Brittany’s Cape Finistère, a community sustained by patriotism and the Catholic Church.

  Since the armistice Grall and Borey both found it hard to believe that the wonderful navy Darlan had built up was about to be put into mothballs before it had even had the chance to use its big guns. For months they had been trying to imagine what it would be like to go into action against the Scharnhorst or one of the other German raiders they had been trying to hunt down with HMS Hood. If they had ever sighted one of them Dunkerque’s speed would have certainly compensated for their slightly smaller guns as 100,000 horse power from the latest Rateau-Bretagne turbines overtook their older and slower British ally. Then, at 30 plus knots, Dunkerque would have closed in with all eight 13-inch guns blazing over their bows, the enemy presented with the narrowest possible target because, unlike the Hood with its two old-fashioned twin turrets fore and aft, they did not need to turn to deliver a full broadside.

  Of course, they both realized that fate was not always kind to even the best designed ships and when disaster struck it was often the men two decks below in the engine rooms who found themselves in the most trouble. On Sunday, at their last meeting in Borey’s slightly roomier cabin, they had found themselves debating whether ingénieurs Mécaniciens should carry side arms at action stations. They agreed that, as a last resort, a concealed weapon might be useful to stem panic. But when Borey suggested that, if all hope had gone, a pistol provided a less painful exit for both himself and others if they chose it, Grall was horrified. ‘If God judged that my salvation depended on this final trial,’ he told his friend, ‘I will kneel down and pray whilst I wait for death.’

  Unlike its head, the navy as a whole was still strongly churched. Spiritual adviser aboard the Bretagne was Father de Gueuser who was also chaplain for the Provence, the two older ships making up one division of Gesoul’s Force de Raid and the newer Strasbourg and Dunkerque the other. The priest was evidently of the liberal kind, for he was friendly with Jean Boutron and equally opposed to the armistice. In the course of the afternoon, seething with excitement, he told Boutron of a row he had just had with Contre-amiral Bouxin who commanded the 2nd Light Squadron of super-destroyers and flew his flag on the Mogador.

  It was well known that Bouxin did not approve of the armistice either. But as a French amiral, he felt he must obey Gensoul who must obey Darlan who must obey Maréchal Pétain. Personal feelings, Bouxin explained, took second place. He reminded the priest that the navy was the only part of the armed forces that had remained intact, unbeaten and firmly behind its leaders. ‘On no account can we break up this unity which could play a large role in averting the disintegration of the country.’

  At this point de Gu
euser felt he had listened to quite enough platitudes.

  ‘Amiral – what can I say to you – God forgive me – you haven’t got the balls.’

  Bouxin, struck dumb, had pointed to the door. Then slowly, through a red haze, the power of speech had returned.

  ‘You – priest – fuck off – now!’

  And de Gueuser, like some scolded court jester, had scampered away to inform his friend Boutron of Bouxin’s foul-mouthed defeat.

  Chapter Six

  Hooky Holland, accompanied by Lieutenant Commander Geoffrey Davies who was one of the former liaison officers with the French Mediterranean fleet, got to the Dunkerque at about 4.15 p.m. : seventy-five minutes before Somerville’s latest deadline.

  Passing the boom gate vessel they had been smartly saluted by her crew and, just inside the anti-torpedo and mine net, the amiral’s barge was waiting for them. Holland and Davies were beckoned aboard and the three-man crew of the Foxhound’s motorboat – one of them a signaller equipped with an Aldis lamp – told to remain where they were. It seemed that Gensoul wished to limit the number of prying British eyes admitted to his squadron’s inner sanctum. As they approached the flagship, Holland observed that most of the French ships were already in a state of advanced readiness. ‘All director range finders in tops of battle ships, with the exception of Strasbourg, were trained in the direction of our fleet. Tugs were ready by the sterns of each battleship. Guns were trained fore and aft.’

  Holland and Davies were piped aboard the Dunkerque, the high-pitched shriek of a bosun’s whistle alerting all the crews along the jetty that important persons were visiting the flagship. But once they were aboard Holland noticed that, although there were plenty of ratings on deck, there was ‘a marked lack of officers’. Among the few to be seen was a stiff-backed Capitaine de vaisseau Danbé, the Chief of Staff, who led them into the amiral’s cabin and a greeting of such froideur that Holland was left in no doubt of Gensoul’s temper.

  He commenced by stating that he had only consented to see me because the first shot fired would not only alienate the whole French navy but would be tantamount to a declaration of war between France and Great Britain. That if our aim was to ensure that the French fleet was not used against us, the use of force would not achieve this aim. We might sink his ships but we should find the whole of the rest of the French navy actively against us.

  Gensoul also argued that mining the harbour entrance had already ruled out any possibility of him accepting any of the options offered other than scuttling. Since he had never intended contravening the armistice, even when he could have reasonably pleaded resisting Somerville’s overwhelming force would incur terrible French losses, this was entirely academic. He had not even informed Darlan about the third option to sail to the French West Indies or the United States, saying merely that the British had offered: join us or sink your ships or we’ll do it for you.

  Now he repeated what he had first told Dudley North and what he had been telling Somerville all day: if the Axis attempted to break the armistice by taking over his squadron then, and only then, would he sink them. To which Holland gave what had become the standard British response:

  I explained most carefully to him that the British government were unable to accept this as a guarantee that the ships would not fall into enemy hands … Already I said, Admiral Somerville had on his own responsibility disobeyed orders by not taking action within the time laid down, thus showing his desire to avoid the use of force if this were possible. It was at this stage, I think, that Amiral Gensoul began to think that force might really be used.

  This must have been the case because Gensoul’s next move was to show Holland a message from Darlan dated 24 June 1940 – two days after the signing of the armistice. Almost immediately Holland spotted that among the contingency plans laid down to prevent the French fleet falling into enemy hands it mentioned the possibility of sailing the fleet to the USA or Martinique, France’s Caribbean colony. At last Holland glimpsed a ray of hope. This was close to the third option the British had offered if only the French could be persuaded that between scuttling and being destroyed by the British, internment in the Americas was the logical third choice. It was now 5 p.m. – thirty minutes before the deadline expired.

  Admiral Gensoul however remained stubborn, and would not give way any further, except to state that steps had been taken to commence the reduction of crews by demobilising a certain number of reservists. I again pointed out Admiral Somerville must obey his orders and use force unless the terms were accepted to our satisfaction immediately, to which Amiral Gensoul reiterated that the first shot fired would alienate our two navies and do untold harm to us … Asked if he had received any answer from his government to the message he had sent that morning, he rather unconvincingly replied that the answer was ‘resist by force’.

  About now Somerville, back on the Hood, received a message from the Admiralty in London warning him to ‘settle matters quickly or you will have reinforcements to deal with’. Wireless intercepts had indicated that a squadron of cruisers was on its way from Toulon.

  Somerville promptly sent a message to Gensoul:

  IF ONE OF THE BRITISH PROPOSALS HAS NOT BEEN ACCEPTED BY 1730, I SAID 1730, IT WILL BE NECESSARY THAT I SINK YOUR SHIPS.

  By the time Gensoul was showing Holland this message in his cabin they were fifteen minutes away from the deadline. Holland, desperate for another stay of execution, replied directly through one of the Dunkerque’s signallers offering his few crumbs of progress:

  ADMIRAL GENSOUL SAYS CREWS BEING REDUCED AND IF THREATENED BY THE ENEMY WOULD GO TO MARTINIQUE OR USA BUT THIS IS NOT QUITE OUR PROPOSITION – STOP – CAN GET NO NEARER.

  Before they parted Gensoul gave Holland another pencil-written note which, though unsigned and undated, was by far the most conciliatory of the day. It listed four points and appeared to be an attempt to back up Holland’s last plaintive signal, even starting with a kind of apology.

  1. The French Fleet cannot do otherwise than apply the clauses of the Armistice – on account of the consequences which would be borne by Metropolitan France. 2. Formal orders have been received, and these orders have been sent to all Commanding Officers, so that if, after the Armistice, there is a risk of the ships falling into enemy hands they would be taken to the USA or scuttled. 3. These orders will be carried out. 4. Since yesterday, 2nd July, the ships now at Oran and Mers-el-Kébir have begun their demobilisation (reduction of crews). Men belonging to North Africa have been disembarked.

  The British emissaries left the Dunkerque at 5.25 p.m. to farewells from Gensoul which were markedly warmer than their reception had been. ‘Even at that stage I do not believe that he was certain that fire would be opened,’ recalled Holland.

  Before they boarded the amiral’s barge he told Danbé, the Chief of Staff, that they had a signaller aboard their motorboat ‘if they had anything to communicate’. As they moved away from the flagship buglers were calling action stations but Holland noted that large numbers of sailors were still on the upper decks of the battleships as if they had difficulty in taking it seriously. The officer of the watch on the bow of the Bretagne, the last but one ship in line along the jetty, saluted smartly as they went by. In his armoured range-finding eyrie above him Lieutenant Boutron was thinking that the only probable ending was that they would all be massacred.

  It was 5.35 p.m. by the time the amiral’s barge reached Foxhound’s motorboat and Holland and Davies transferred. They were well clear of the net defences and about a mile to seaward when at 5.54 p.m. – twenty-four minutes after Somerville’s latest deadline – they heard the first shots.

  Almost directly above the Hood’s guns on the flag deck a deafened Briggs, who had just helped hoist the red and white open fire signal, felt as if his ears had been ‘sandwiched between two manhole covers’. The older battleships Resolution and Valiant; which had not fired their main armament in earnest since 1918, started the bombardment. Twenty seconds later, with a loud ting
-ting of her firing bell, the Hood joined in. In all twenty-four 15-inch guns were hurling shells weighing almost 2,000 pounds: about the same weight as a small car and in 1940 about four times heavier than the most commonly used RAF bomb. Briggs saw ‘high cascading water spouts’ raised to the north of the harbour. For a moment he wondered if this was all it was going to be, a few warning shots. Then the second salvo fell right among Gensoul’s Force de Raid, gouging great chunks of concrete out of the jetty to which they were moored and flinging them onto the nearby decks.

  Somerville had positioned Force H north-west of Mers-el-Kébir so that it was firing over the spit of land from where the jetty started and along the line of big ships. This way overshoots, as Briggs had seen, were falling in the sea north of the harbour and reducing the chances of casualties among the white colonialist community whose white stucco homes, cafés and churches made the north African coastline look little different from Mediterranean France. They were at maximum visibility range. Through powerful optics Somerville’s crews could just about make out the masts and antennae of Gensoul’s ships. On the Bretagne, which had the Strasbourg and Commandant Teste either side of it, Boutron was sweating it out in his fire control turret: