The Channel Dash

Strikes me there was no shambles within the scope of the 11 Group response, more a single failure.

Whatever the sequence of events and command/communication between and within the Navy and Bomber Command, within Fighter Command things were generally working ok while Leigh-Mallory was a single point of failure. If his staff were too frightened of his response if they bothered him with an urgent message that was his failing. If only he hadn’t ‘politicked’ his way across from 12 to 11 Group, things might have been different. One of many ‘ifs’, I know. Also one of several apparently inexplicable things about fighter command tactics and strategy 1940-42 that can be traced back to Leigh-Mallory.

The German Navy SIGINT/ELINT reconnaissance ship, FGS Oker is tied up next to HMS Belfast at the moment and is due to leave at 14.00 tomorrow, Monday.

Brian

In memory of:
PO G W Martin, Sgt J A W Sandy, WO B L Robertson & PO R O G Haggberg
137 Squadron RAF
…Lest we forget.

Paul

Today we mark the 75th Anniversary of this event. Lest We Forget

It would be nice if the Wildcats could touch down at Manston at the helicopter area before carrying out the fly past .

Thanks for that info Lee. And the earlier link mmitch.

Not everyone in the Allied forces did poorly. No. 485 (NZ) Squadron shot down four of the escorting fighter aircraft during the Channel Dash, and sunk an escorting E-boat. Plenty to commemorate for the Kiwis there.

There is a memorial service being held at the FAA church at Yeovilton on 9 Feb, followed on 12 Feb by a service at Ramsgate which (weather permitting) will involve a flypast of Wildcat HMA.2 helicopters of the current 825 NAS. The Swordfish will still be in winter maintenance.

Timed it well are not words I would use, they were lucky because of the Farce that went on UK wise.

Not exactly our finest hour

Just because the English made a mess of it (according to your report) shouldn’t detract from the German planning.

After all, the allies give full credit to their planning when the Germans messed up.

It should go both ways..unless one is after purely nationalistic and propagandist “history”.

And back to the original point, I suspect one could have a solemn commemoration everyday of an act of bravery during the 39-45 conflict.

The Germans would have had to make a ‘propaganda coup’ out of it; there was no other way to view it!

Strategically it amounted to little more than running away home and hiding because these major units of the Kriegsmarine had achieved nothing of any real value while stationed in France, and had sustained a fair bit of damage from RAF bombing.

The overall plan was to return Scharnhorst, Gneisenau and Prinz Eugen to safer waters but also removing their threat to the North Atlantic convoys (which was exactly what the British wanted). The English Channel route was chosen out of desperation; the Kriegsmarine knew that to sortie out into the Atlantic, even for the bonus of disrupting convoy traffic, would risk losing all three ships and their crews.

As it happened, even with a good deal of luck, both Scharnhorst and Gneisenau were badly damaged by mines dropped by the RAF and were out of action for months. Neither would ever sink a British ship again. Scharnhorst was sunk by the Roysl Navy about two years later with the loss of virtually her entire crew. Gneisenau never put to sea operationally again.

To plagiarise somebody who knew a thing or two about capital ships: ‘wars are not won by evacuations’!

You can read the full story that the excerpt was from here

http://rubooks.org/book.php?book=10675&page=1

But they didn’t, so it was a magnificent propaganda coup for the Germans. Apart from, I think, the Scharnhorst which struck a mine, the three battle cruisers got thru’ unscathed and the Fuhrer hoisted two triumphant fingers at the British.

No, far from being our finest hour, but in terms of the weather, the Germans did time their dash well. Without the low cloud base preventing the use of armour piercing bombs, then despite the well-know initial shambles of a responce, it might still have had a very different outcome. Had the weather cleared, then perhaps those three German capital ships would have met the same fate as Force Z.

Timed it well are not words I would use, they were lucky because of the Farce that went on UK wise.

Whenever 91 Squadron expected trouble of this sort they flew in pairs. Sq. Ldr. Oxspring took Sergeant Beaumont with him in a second Spitfire.

At 10:16 a.m., the RAF radar station at Swingate began to plot three big “blips,” indicating ships fifty-six miles away in the direction of Boulogne. The size of the “blips” and the estimated distance indicated they were much bigger than anything ever before seen. But the only German ships of any size were locked up in Brest. Or were they?

The radar station commander, 31-year-old Flt.-Lt. Gerald Kidd, a solicitor in civilian life, suddenly asked, “Are these the Scharnhorst and the Gneiserum?”

At the same time, other radar stations began picking up constant circular plots, which they identified as patrolling German E-boats. But they were in fact Galland’s fighter umbrella circling over the German battleships.

It was 10:20 a.m. The German ships had been at sea for eleven hours undetected. Now at last Kidd had deduced the truth. When he carefully examined the reports, the size of the “blips” absolutely convinced him that the German warships were approaching the Straits of Dover in daylight.

When Kidd tried to telephone a warning to Dover Castle, the GPO line was defective. Further attempts to call on the scrambler proved equally frustrating. Later investigation of the defective telephone revealed that both the GPO and the secret scrambler were plugged into the same line, so anyone in the area could eavesdrop on Swingate and Dover discussing top secret radar reports.

Just before Gerald Kidd saw the “blips” on his radar near Dover, Group Captain Victor Beamish, one of the more dashing aces of the RAF, was looking at the weather report at Kenley fighter aerodrome. As it was too cloudy and misty for his new and inexperienced pilots to fly operationally, he thought it was going to be “one of the quiet days’ of the war.” So he decided to take Wing-Cdr. Finlay Boyd with him to do a two-man sweep “just to keep things moving.”

At 10:10 a.m. they climbed into their Spitfires. Flying over the Channel twenty minutes later, they saw two Messerschmitts and climbed up to attack them. They had stumbled into the outer guard of Galland’s air umbrella protecting the German battleships.

The Spitfires had discovered the ships at their most vulnerable moment. They were nearing the square on the chart in which there had been the new mine alarm during the night. The First Mine-Sweeping Flotilla under Lt.-Cdr. Bergelt, with only four boats, was still-trying to clear them. As the big ships hove into view, they had just managed to produce a very narrow channel free of mines. Between 10:26 a.m. and 10:47 a.m., Bergelt’s mine-sweepers with their gear out went ahead, while the ships followed them through the channel at only ten knots. During these twenty-one terrifying minutes they saw the Spitfires overhead.

At 10:30 a.m., Jarvis at Fighter Command became seriously worried about the heavy jamming, which he now decided might be deliberate. Were the Germans doing it to hide something coming up the Channel? When he suggested to Number 11 Group that they send off a special reconnaissance plane, they pointed out that twenty minutes before the “Jim Crow” flight consisting of two Spitfires had taken off from Hawkinge. They did not know about Victor Beamish’s trip over the Channel.

As the German ships were sailing slowly through the narrow swept channel, Oxspring and Beaumont flew between 1,200 and 1,800 feet in rain showers just below the heavy clouds, ready to nip into them if they encountered German fighters. Visibility was so poor it was hard to distinguish between cloud and sea.

At 10:40 a.m., Kidd from Swingate finally succeeded in telephoning his first warning to Dover by routing his call through Portsmouth. He was ordered to come to Dover Castle at once.

At the same moment, Oxspring and Beaumont dived through the clouds fifteen miles west of Le Touquet. They quickly nipped back into cloud as flak shells began to burst round them, and a dozen Messerschmitts raced towards them. They had arrived over the E-boat screen. As they dodged the fighters, they sighted three big ships sailing close together. Oxspring and Beaumont thought they were British vessels, even though the ships kept firing at them as they seemed to be pointing straight at Dover. In the BAF view, the Royal Navy was notoriously trigger-happy after Dunkirk.

As Oxspring and Beaumont swung over the German convoy, with rain beating at their cockpit perspex and dimming their vision, they suddenly sighted two fighters beneath the clouds. They turned to attack them but as they closed to 500 yards on their tails, Oxspring saw to his astonishment red, white and blue roundels on their wings. He hastily called over the intercom to Beaumont, “Don’t fire, they’re Spitfires!”

It was Group Captain Victor Beamish and Wing-Cdr. Finlay Boyd. They had also seen three large warships steaming towards Dover. As they went down to have a better look, neither Beamish nor Boyd noticed the two other Spitfires above them, because flak began to burst around them as well and German fighters roared on to their tails. Oxspring and Beaumont watched their two Spitfires turn and dive down on the ships.

E-boats and destroyers threw up a tremendous screen of flak and more German fighters plummeted down towards Beamish and Boyd. To escape the pursuing Messerschmitts, they dived straight through the flak, and the German pilots did not try to follow them.

As they came lower, they saw two large ships with trident masts. Flying down to sea level to get a better look, they could see the bow waves curling over the foredecks of the battleships and their long lines of escorts.

On the bridge of the Scharnhorst, Admiral Ciliax watched the wave-hopping planes and said to Captain Hoffmann, “This is the start of it. We are now discovered. The attack will come at any minute.”

As they were now out of the narrow mine-free lane, he ordered the battleships to increase speed to thirty knots. Mist and low cloud came drifting down over the Channel. It was bitterly cold and driving rain began to fall as the German gunners waited for the British attack. Why did it not come?

It should have, for this was the first piece of luck for the British. By coincidence, four Spitfires had arrived together over the ships. Three of the pilots were experienced, high-ranking RAF officers and if they all identified them there could be no doubt.

Yet nothing happened. The main reason was that Beamish never thought to disobey the radio silence order. This was the supreme moment, when he should have ignored all the regulations and warned the British forces that the German ships were just about to begin their dash through the Straits of Dover. All he had to do was to switch on his radio and repeat the word “Fuller” — and the whole of the British defences would have been alerted. But regulations said that radio silence should be observed on all operational flights. So with a wave to Boyd to follow him, he led the way back to Kenley preserving radio silence on the way.

His junior officer, Sq. Ldr. Oxspring, was much more enterprising. Watching the other two Spitfires courageously dive into the thick flak, Oxspring instantly realized that such a large number of ships sailing so close to England must be protecting German battleships. As his job was reconnaissance, not fighting, he decided this was the moment to disobey orders, and break radio silence to warn the Biggin Hill controller. It was one of the most sensible decisions made that day. He did not know the code-word, as his senior officer Beamish did, but he flicked over his switch and gave his recognition phrase, “Barman Blue Leader. Three large German ships, probably battle-cruisers, escorted by twenty-plus craft sailing off Le Touquet heading towards Dover.”

He then called to Beaumont, “Get back to base,” and both planes headed for Hawkinge. The time was 10:35 a.m.
The Germans heard him. The German B-Dienst listening service picked up his message, and informed Col. Adolf Galland at Le Touquet, that “A British radio message reports a large German naval formation consisting of three capital ships and about twenty warships is steaming towards the Straits of Dover.”

At last the secret was out. The decision for giving the order to drop all attempts at disguising the operation lay with Galland. But he refused to be driven to rash measures by this alarming message. He continued to observe radio silence to keep the operation hidden from the British.

For he suspected that the RAF would not believe one lone message. The wisdom of his decision was proved by the fact that the first counter-measures were not taken by the British command for another hour. Galland says, “It appears the British gave no credence to the reports. They simply sent up another reconnaissance plane and ordered a full alert. An hour later, the second aircraft brought confirmation of the feat which had been regarded as impossible.”

Meanwhile Oxspring and Beaumont were racing back to base. It only took them eight minutes to return to Hawkinge from over the German fleet. When Beaumont climbed out of his cockpit, he said thoughtfully to Oxspring, “You know, before I became a pilot I used to be in the RAF marine craft section on the Solent. I am certain one of those ships is the Scharnhorst, I saw her at a pre-war review. I recognize her superstructure.”

Oxspring was immediately called to the phone in the briefing hut, where Controller Bill Igoe asked, “What’s all this, Bobby?” He told him the story — not the least puzzling feature being the presence of two other unknown Spitfires, which no one could account for.

Igoe, who had been convinced for hours the German battleships were coming up the Channel, but no one had taken any notice, suggested Oxspring get on the phone to tell 11 Group at once. He said he would listen-in so as not to waste time repeating his information. While Oxspring was telephoning 11 Group, the Intelligence Officer sent for a book of silhouettes of German ships. The man sent on his bicycle to bring the silhouette, book stopped at the NAAFI for a cup of tea on his way back, wasting another precious fifteen minutes. When he did arrive Beaumont leafed through the recognition book until he came to Scharnhorst.

“That’s the ship I saw,” he said emphatically. He was certain that his memory of the tripod mast and superstructure of the Scharnhorst was correct. The only doubt was that as visibility had been obscured by rain, he did not have a very clear view. In spite of the fact his identification was almost certain most people, except Igoe, tended to discount Beaumont’s theory.

When Oxspring and Igoe tried to speak personally to the Air officer commanding 11 Group, Air Vice-Marshal Trafford Leigh-Mallory, they discovered he was at Northolt reviewing Belgian air force units, and his staff officers would not interrupt him. The attitude of 11 Group was, “We are not going to bother the AOC. You saw some fishing boats. Send out another recce.”

More and more convinced that it was the Scharnhorst, both Igoe and Oxspring asked for a message to be passed at once to Leigh-Mallory. When he was told that he was on parade and not available, Oxspring said, “I suggest you tell him. He’ll be livid if he’s not told.” But no one did.

While they were frantically trying to pass a message to Leigh-Mallory, Beamish and Boyd were flying back to Kenley — much farther away than Hawkinge. As they preserved radio silence, another thirty-five minutes passed before they could confirm Oxspring’s sighting.

Beamish landed at Kenley at 11:10 a.m., and also immediately tried to get on the telephone to Leigh-Mallory to tell him the news. He too was unsuccessful, but he told Biggin Hill. A few minutes later Igoe came back on the phone to Oxspring and said, “Group Captain Beamish with Wing-Cdr. Boyd were in the other two Spitfires. They confirm what you say. It is the Scharnhorst.” At the same time, other evidence was building up. Five minutes after Flt.-Lt. Kidd had managed to phone Dover via Portsmouth, the radar at Fairlight just east of Hastings picked up two big ships at 67,000 yards in the vicinity of Boulogne. This was a record for that type of set — and it confirmed Kidd’s plot.

When this report reached Wing-Cdr. Bobby Constable-Roberts, Air Liaison officer on Admiral Ramsay’s staff, whose job was to keep in constant touch with Fighter Command’s Number 11 Group and Coastal Command’s 16 Group, he picked up the telephone and asked 11 Group for a special reconnaissance over the Boulogne area. Number 11 again refused, saying it was unnecessary. Constable-Roberts then telephoned to warn 16 Group at Thorney Island saying, “It might be our friends out in the Channel.”

He suggested that the Beaufort Squadron at St. Eval, and 42 Squadron on its way from Leuchars to Coltishall, should be alerted and ordered to fly directly to Manston. But he had no authority to order it.

At 11:05 a.m., although the RAF and the Navy were still unconvinced these were the German battleships, Constable-Roberts telephoned Manston and told Lt.-Cdr. Eugene Es-monde to put his six Swordfish on readiness. This was the first decisive step taken by the British armed forces to intercept the Scharnhorst and Gneisenaus daring dash. It was made by a junior Wing Commander.

At 11:30 a.m., when the coast-watching radar set at Lydden Spout between Dover and Folkestone, picked up a plot at a range of 46,000 yards, Beamish was trying again to reach Leigh-Mallory, who was still unavailable. Three times a staff officer came to the phone, and each time Beamish refused to talk to him. It was nearly another half-hour before Leigh-Mallory eventually came to the phone. He was in a very bad temper at being pestered personally on the phone by a mere Group Captain — he was a very rank-conscious officer — but he began to listen carefully when Beamish confirmed Sergeant Beaumont’s identification. Only then was Leigh-Mallory convinced and the RAF issued a signaclass=”underline” “Group-Captain Beamish was with ‘Jim Crow’ so there is no doubt.” It was 11:35 a.m. An hour had passed since Oxspring had radioed his first urgent warning from over the German ships in the Channel.

At the same time, Dover Command was officially informed of the break-out by telephone from the Admiralty War Room. Immediately, Constable-Roberts asked Number 11 Group for fighters to protect the Swordfish. Then he rang Esmonde at Manston and told him what he had done. Victor Beamish also telephoned from Kenley to the Manston commander, Tom Gleave, saying, “It’s ‘Fuller,’ Tom!”

Although the day had started out with some sunshine, it turned progressively to cloud and rain as the German ships raced up the mine-free lane in the Channel. They were approaching the Straits of Dover and still the British had taken no measures to stop them. Navigator Giessler aboard Scharnhorst looked at his synchronized watch. It showed 11:45 a.m. Galland was still maintaining wireless silence. So messages could not be sent between the ships and the Luftwaffe pilots. A flag that now began to fly constantly on the ships was the yellow square flag of the aircraft alarm signal, billowing against a grey sky alive with patrolling Luftwaffe fighters.

By noon they were off Cap Gris Nez, and tracked constantly by British radar, they were entering the narrowest part of the Straits. Up to now they had only had a glimpse of the RAF and there was still no sign of the Royal Navy. On the bridge of Scharnhorst the unspoken question was: What about the British heavy guns guarding the Straits? Although it was difficult to hit a battleship sailing at thirty knots, it was not impossible. Shore batteries firing armour-piercing shells could cripple the biggest ship if they had enough warning — but Martini’s German jamming and bad RAF reconnaissance had made sure the British did not receive it.

Not exactly our finest hour

Elements of Bomber Command were primed to attack the German ships as they made their move into the North Sea but the cloud cover on the day meant that the armour piercing bombs would not have been effective from the drop altitude beneath the cloud. Of course, trying to bomb moving targets through total cloud cover is next to impossible, so the planned attacks using armour piercing bombs were called off. Of course, the hindsight debate about what could have been done to stop the ships has been discussed at great length, but there’s no doubt the Germans timed their ‘dash’ well and caught the British defences out.

My father told me that his RAF Sqn bombed up with 2,000lb Armour-Piercing bombs to attack those ships but the Navy said they would take care of them, he was not one to make things up but then again he had no time for the Navy 🙂

Several events and memorial services are planned during this year. I don’t think the RNHF Swordfish would be flying during our Winter though?
http://channeldash75.com/
mmitch.

Apart from the unstinting courage of our airmen, hardly an event that the British would wish to remember.