Читать книгу The Gathering Storm - Geirr Haarr - Страница 18
Оглавление— 9 —
‘All Clear For’ard’
THE BRITISH MERCHANT FLEET consisted of some 21 million tons of shipping at the outbreak of the war. Anticipating hostilities, the Cabinet Committee responsible for Defence Preparedness placed the British merchant fleet under the direction of the Trade Division of the Admiralty, led by Acting Chief of Naval Staff Rear Admiral Harold Burrough, on 26 August 1939. This ‘Control of Shipping’ gave the Trade Division, through the Naval Control Service Officers (NCSOs) stationed in most ports used by British vessels, the authority to organise routes and issue orders for the convoys, including the organisation of their escort. The use of British merchant shipping through purchase or charter rested with the Ministry of Shipping (later joined with the Ministry of Transport to become the Ministry of War Transport), as did the manning of the merchant navy.1
After securing necessary auxiliaries for the Royal Navy, it soon became clear that, contrary to pre-war assumptions, the British merchant navy was incapable of sustaining even a minimum of imports. Neutral shipping was desperately needed, and a large number of Greek, Danish, Dutch and Belgian vessels were chartered. Polish ships outside German control were also integrated in the British merchant navy. Many of these had British masters appointed to them and sailed under a British flag. Other neutral merchant ships, Swedish and Norwegian in particular, were secured for British use through bilateral shipping agreements.
In May 1938, the Admiralty had concluded that a convoy system would most likely have to be introduced after the outbreak of war. A ‘restricted’ U-boat warfare, it was believed, could be countered by existing A/S technology, independent routing, arming of merchant ships and so on, but it was far more likely that ‘unrestricted’ warfare would develop. Staff officers were earmarked and trained for the planning and organisation of convoys, but parallel training and development of dedicated escort forces was limited and the A/S branch was left with low priority. As a result, few senior British officers had an A/S background and very few of the active commanders at sea in 1939 had much knowledge or competence in A/S technology or tactics.2
The sinking of Athenia on the first day of the war seemed to indicate that an unrestricted U-boat war was a reality, and within days the first convoys were organised. It would be mid-October before Admiral Burrough’s Trade Division formed the Anti-Submarine Warfare Division to develop tactics and means to protect them.
At first, the convoy system was met by resistance from the shipowners, who, thinking largely of short-term profit, did not welcome the perceived delays and added fuel cost of not being able to take the shortest route. Many captains found the convoys unnecessary, trusting their own speed and luck. It soon became clear that this was ill-advised. During the first months of the war the loss rate was less than 1 per cent for ships sailing in convoy. For those sailing independently it exceeded 10 per cent. When it became obvious that these numbers owed as much to mines as to torpedoes, the majority of captains and shipowners submitted to the inevitable and accepted that any effort to stay within the convoy was worthwhile.
Initially, only ships capable of maintaining sustained speeds between 9 and 15 knots were included in the convoys. Faster ships were considered immune and left to sail independently. Ships that could not maintain 9 knots were left to their own fate or occasionally bundled up in slow convoys along the coast. Neutral ships were at first not included in the convoys, but these were clearly also in danger and after a while were included in the convoys too.
The main outbound Atlantic convoys assembled either in the Thames Estuary, proceeding west through the Channel past Land’s End (OA convoys), or in Liverpool, passing through the Irish Sea (OB convoys). The convoys were given A/S escort to a position some 300 miles west of Ireland (between 12 and 15 degrees west), after which one or a few armed merchant cruisers (AMCs), E-class cruisers or R-class battleships remained as protection against surface raiders. Within a day or two, most ships dispersed, steering independently for their destinations.
The inbound convoys from North America (HX convoys) usually assembled in Halifax, Nova Scotia – on average around thirty-five ships at a time. These were brought across the Atlantic by the returning surface protection before being met by the A/S escort, between 12 and 15 degrees west, usually having left an outbound convoy. Off Land’s End, the convoys split, one part proceeding up the Channel for the Thames Estuary, the other part through the Irish Sea to Liverpool. Ships for intermediate ports were dispatched en route. Occasionally, Coastal Command aircraft turned up as added protection, at first at around 8° W, but later upgraded aircraft types extended this to about 10° W.
Destroyer Inglefield shepherding a convoy. The photo is taken during the summer of 1940. (IWM A.1830)
Ships heading for the South Atlantic, the Mediterranean or West Africa were grouped in the OG convoys in the western end of the Channel, usually every eighth day. Inbound convoys from Gibraltar were prefixed HG, while those sailing directly from Sierra Leone with ships from the South Atlantic and Africa were known as SL convoys. Beyond Sierra Leone, most ships sailed independently.
Prior to departure, the masters, chief engineers and senior W/T operators of the merchantmen were called to a conference. Here, the position of each ship in the convoy was given as well as speed, signal codes, zigzag patterns and how to act in case of attack. The masters were issued with a booklet termed ‘Conduct in Convoy’, which gave instructions regarding anything from how to leave harbour to how to act during ‘man overboard’ or fog.3 Commander Jack Broome of the destroyer Veteran, who was to become an expert on convoy escort, wrote:
What a lot we had to learn the hard – and only – way. Every trip provided something new in convoy technique. For the escorted there was the disturbing feeling of having ships all round them all day and, worse still, all the blacked-out night. It was one thing for experienced naval officers to explain to inexperienced merchant skippers in a nice warm lecture room that, in convoy, if you held your course and speed you had nothing to worry about. On a dark night or in fog, imagination soon produced plenty. [. . .] Then there was the domestic sheep-dog angle to learn, forming the freighters up, often with other ships joining at sea. Next, the essential practising of large turns, as soon as the complete convoy was formed. After that, the long haul, with a scratched escort battling weather to keep alert and in station around its flock.4
Each convoy, whether coastal or long range, was under the order of a commodore on board one of the merchant ships, usually a cargo-liner with passenger accommodation. His was the responsibility to ensure that the merchantmen maintained their speed and position in the convoy, changed course in an orderly manner and otherwise obeyed instructions from the escort. The commodores of the Atlantic convoys were often older retired flag officers. On the coastal or North Sea convoys, they were mostly RNR commanders or senior merchant skippers. Their task was far from easy. A convoy assembled up to fifty ships of all categories and vintages with masters of many nationalities and traditions – every one of them used to going where he wanted in the manner he decided himself. Language problems with masters of neutral ships added to the challenge, as did the weather, which tended to spread the ships and create stragglers. Most of the masters were sensible people, though, and expert mariners, quickly understanding such needs as manoeuvring in concert, signalling and black-out.5
Rear Admiral Kenelm Creighton was called back from retirement, given a new uniform and placed on board the freighter Merchant Prince to take convoy OA-13 from Southend to Halifax, taking to sea on 1 October:
[Eventually] our merchant seamen became acclimatized to the deadly monotony of sailing in a convoy always laced with the expectancy that at any instant the savage onslaught of the enemy might break the tension. [. . .] They learned to sleep deeply, if not peacefully, in their off duty hours. But in these early days, it was different. It was doubtful if any officers or men in the ships of OA13 slept anything but fitfully that first night at sea. Their senses were keyed-up to detect the first whisper of danger, for they were not yet indifferent to the challenges of the unknown. With the first glimmerings of dawn, the fears of the night began to subside [. . .] I took advantage of day break to get a little rest. For once out of [the swept channels], my job as commodore would begin in earnest with all the headaches of forming up a clutch of merchant ships – totally unversed in the art of sailing in company – into a compact convoy.6
Following the Munich crisis, as a cooperation between the Ministry of Shipping and the shipowners, British ships taken into yards for routine maintenance or repair had their after decks strengthened and gun mountings welded in place. Meanwhile, over three thousand guns were made ready for mounting, largely 4- or 6-inch from warships broken up during the 1920s.7 In June 1939, the arming of the British merchant navy commenced, organised by the Defensively Equipped Merchant Ships or DEMS section of the Admiralty Trade Division. The arming of merchant ships was not in accordance with the Hague Convention and would make them liable to be sunk by U-boats without warning. That the guns were mounted aft and defined as ‘defensive’ made no difference. Running away from a surfaced U-boat, radioing for help while opening fire would inevitably be considered ‘offensive’ by the Germans.
The arming of the British merchant navy commenced in June 1939, organised by the Defensively Equipped Merchant Ships or DEMS section of the Admiralty Trade Division. This was a breach of the Hague Convention and would make them liable to be sunk by U-boats without warning. This photo of the British freighter Riverton was taken at Narvik. The gun to the right is a 12-pound 12-cwt in a high-angle (anti-aircraft) mounting. The one to the left in the low-angle mounting is a 4-inch BL Mk IX. The latter has been raised to its maximum elevation to hang the lantern used as an improvised stern light. Note also the boxes at deck level around the guns which were for ready-use ammunition. These were presumably empty in deference to Norwegian neutrality, but to follow the rules completely the guns should have been stowed away. Norwegian authorities looked the other way, though. (Author’s collection)
The gunners, usually naval reservists, were known as DEMS ratings. At first, neither they nor their guns were much welcomed on board the merchant ships. Many sailors, with some justification, considered their best defence was to retain an obvious non-combatant status. Other masters made sure the gunners integrated with the crew and allowed no maltreatment. One of the officers, usually the third officer, would be responsible for the guns and their crew, whether they were DEMS or members of the original crew, and he was usually assisted by an NCO or a retired Royal Navy gunner recalled for duty. By mid-1940, some six to eight thousand DEMS men were at sea and about twice that number of merchant sailors trained to assist them. Theirs was a life of two extremes: endless periods of boring duty, keeping watch on deck in all kinds of weather, broken by sudden incidents of terror, often ending in death or mutilation.
The DEMS ratings were often required to operate, or attempt to operate, a number of ‘miscellaneous’ weapons systems in addition to their guns. One such device was a cable with a grenade at one end and a parachute at the other, meant to be fired ahead of an attacking aircraft. There is no record of any aircraft being brought down by this parachute aerial cable or PAC, and the fact that the crate holding it was marked with ‘lethal to ships personnel in strong wind’ probably says it all.
On 6 December 1939, Churchill informed Parliament that over a thousand ships had been armed, and the effort continued relentlessly. How necessary this was, taking up yard capacity, compared to intensifying convoy efforts and equipping ships that would have capacity as convoy escort, is arguable. With hindsight, it is possible to see that, had British merchant ships remained unarmed, the escalation of the U-boat war might have been delayed and thus saved ships and men during the first critical phase while defences were developed.8
Coastal Convoys
In the 1930s, many of Britain’s imports were distributed from the ports to the customers overland, including via railways, waterways and, to a lesser degree, roads. By 1939, this network was overloaded and could not take the increase necessitated by the outbreak of war. Hence much of the transport system had to be re-routed to ships taking cargo of all kinds to and from ports of opportunity. This fleet was as heterogeneous as could be: older coal-fired and steam-powered ships mixed with newer, largely diesel-engined. In size, they ranged from a few hundred tons to a few thousand, the typical collier or freighter being some 600–800 tons. Although moving in sight of land for most of the time, travelling up and down the British coast was not necessarily less perilous than taking to the wide oceans. Shallows, sandbanks, changing tides and unpredictable currents made inshore navigation challenging, as did fog and foul weather – to say nothing of mines, aircraft and U-boats introduced by the war.
The first coastal convoy was organised on 6 September, one day after the sailing of the first deep-water convoy. Along the east coast of Britain, convoys would run almost daily for the next five and a half years and become a war of its own, impervious to what happened on the other fronts. In the south, the Thames Estuary became the principal assembly area for the coastal traffic, controlled from Southend. Here, goods were redistributed between the coastal and seagoing ships, or the incoming deep-water freighters were added to the coastal convoys to save their cargo from being reloaded. In the north, Methil in the Firth of Forth became a key pivot point for the coastal traffic as well as that across the North Sea. Northbound convoys between Southend and Methil were designated FN, southbound FS, plus an individual number.
Ships of less than a thousand tons and those not capable of sustaining the minimum speed were in principle left to themselves, at grave risk. Those that could travel at over 15 knots were considered immune and advised to travel independently. Speed did not help much against mines, though, and most captains of fast vessels routinely preferred to slow down and stay in a convoy. Other small ships also tagged on for safety and the limit of thirty-five ships per convoy was regularly exceeded, sometimes doubled.
Lieutenant Commander Walter Phipps of destroyer Woolston experienced the hard work of escorting a coastal convoy on 11 November, approaching a turning point off the Norfolk coast:
A vessel with very strong light in the mist made it extremely difficult to see what was going on. Difficulty was increased by a Dutchman who shot across the line from starboard side and a non-convoy ship who pushed up between us and the line. Just before the turn at Newarp the Commodore elected to alter course rapidly to starboard and we, who thought he was about to alter course to port suddenly found him draped across our bow. Full speed astern just in time and stopped her feet short. Got badly mixed up with the second and third line and when clear, went up inside them. We had overshot our turning point at Newarp and were rather far too eastward. Added to this a very strong tide across Haisborough Gat set us up and we sighted the shoal buoy to port instead of starboard. Commodore and number two and three in line were to starboard of us and saw that at the same time. They altered course to port and ran straight across our bow, swearing like troopers at each other to get out of the way. Went astern and stopped here while we thought what to do and eventually decided to run back across the bottom of the shoal and on to the swept channel again. A beastly job and when we got there were coming in at right angles to the line of traffic and had to go full astern against the ships concerned made no attempt to give us sea room. Stopped for a bit and cleared the ships concerned then got ahead and all was more or less plain sailing.9
Fog was a constant issue on the east coast at all times of the year. If the fog became too bad, the whole convoy would be ordered to anchor, more or less where they were, waiting for things to improve. More often than not, this would develop into a nightmare for the escorts. Some ships dropped their anchors immediately, some drifted around, waiting to hear if the other ships had really started to drop their chains, some tried to get out of the main line and find a quiet place of their own. Collisions were frequent, and some ships ventured into non-swept areas, risking themselves as well as the escort trying to guide them back to safety.
In harbour, the convoys needed strict and competent handling. The arrival of a large number of laden ships at the same time is a challenge at the best of times, and now the east coast ports themselves constituted primary targets for the Luftwaffe, even before the fall of France. Berthing facilities, cranes, warehouses, yards and docks were all stretched to the limit.
Due to a lack of minesweepers, sweeping was largely done in daytime, focusing on keeping marked channels clear. The convoys moved by night as well, though, and sweeping in and out of port was limited. In general, the sweeping was not coordinated with the convoy movements and new mines were as often as not detected by an unlucky ship, usually sailing independently, hitting one. The loss rate of independent ships to mines was six to seven times that of ships sailing in convoy in the first four months of 1940. The ‘Q’ system of issuing warnings of minefields applied in a strict sense only to warships.10 In most cases the Naval Control Service would also forward the warnings to convoy commodores in the area, keeping them informed and able to discuss the route of the convoy should the escort commander fail to react. Hence, those sailing in convoy had the advantage of their escort being updated on mine danger areas, whereas those sailing independently did not receive this information. One may wonder why the positions of the known minefields were not broadcast publicly, as it could be taken for granted the Germans knew exactly where they had put their own mines and had little to gain from listening in.11
The German U-boats were not comfortable operating too close to the east coast of Britain. Defensive minefields added to dangers of shallows, and difficult currents meant that the trade routes in the east were largely left to the Luftwaffe and, later, after the occupation of France, the S-boats. Except for the very successful mining campaign in 1939, few ships were sunk by U-boats on the British east coast. In the early months, some were sunk in the northern part of the Channel, but these were sailing independently off the coast.
North Sea Convoys
To protect their own and chartered ships from Scandinavia to Britain, including ore freighters from Narvik, the Admiralty introduced a convoy system across the North Sea a few weeks into the war. From the first week of November, fish, butter, meat, timber, pulp, aluminium, ferro-alloys, minerals and other commodities were sent by railway or coastal ships to Narvik, Trondheim, Bergen and Gothenburg and loaded onto British or British-chartered ships. Following neutral sea lanes to collection points in south-western Norway, they were eventually assembled in convoys and escorted across the North Sea.
Most of the convoys, known as ON to Norway and HN back, sailed between Methil and various points of entry to the Inner Leads off Bergen.12 In early February 1940, after initially working on an eight-day schedule, the volume of trade forced an increase to a four-day cycle from convoy ON-10, weather permitting.13 The first convoys were rather small, while during the winter they swelled in size to around thirty to forty ships each, including neutrals. In all, twenty-five convoys sailed from Scotland to Norway and twenty-eight from Norway to Scotland between November 1939 and April 1940, when the German invasion of Denmark and Norway severed the traffic.14
A convoy for Scotland leaving Norway off Frøysjøen north of Bergen. At least two Royal Navy destroyers can be seen. (Riksarkivet Kom-adm-eske 945)
In Norway the convoys were administered by the NCSO in Bergen. The office of Captain Harris-St John was the largest such organisation in Scandinavia and, assisted by British consuls in the smaller ports between Stavanger and Trondheim, organised the convoys in and out, ensuring papers were in order, pilots standing by and so on. The Norwegian government was at first reluctant to consent to the organisation of what was obviously an advantage to one of the belligerent nations from one of their ports. Norwegian ships were sunk in significant numbers by German U-boats and mines though, and in mid-November, the British Legation in Oslo was quietly informed that Norwegian authorities would not object to the practice, ‘provided no British warships entered neutral waters’ and Norwegian ships would be allowed to join the convoys. Officially, the Norwegian naval authorities in Bergen followed a restrictive line towards Captain Harris-St John and his staff. Unofficially, though, Rear Admiral Carsten Tank-Nielsen, Commander of Sea Defence District No. 2 (SDD2) was ‘most helpful’, maintaining very positive relations with the British NCSO, providing advice as to the best routes to take while inside the Leads as well as forwarding signals to the convoy and providing intelligence of German U-boats sighted in the North Sea. He also discreetly afforded Norwegian naval escort of the convoys while inside territorial waters. The incoming convoys were usually met at the territorial limit by a Royal Norwegian Navy (RNN) torpedo boat and taken into the Leads while the British escort picked up another set of ships to be escorted back to Scotland.15
On the British side, the Scandinavian convoys were administered by the C-in-C Rosyth through the Naval Control of Shipping Office at Methil in collaboration with C-in-C Home Fleet. Many neutral ships carrying goods between Britain and Scandinavia would also seek protection in the ON/HN convoys. The minimum speed of 8–9 knots established for other convoys was routinely waived due to the multitude of ships seeking protection. The many neutrals tagging on caused particular problems as they were not in possession of the maps, instructions and signal books the British masters had been provided with. This was to some extent overcome by the NCSOs in Bergen or Methil providing a single-sheet pamphlet with basic instructions and signals, handed out prior to departure. Neutral ships were included in the convoys, provided the ships ‘traded with or for the British Empire or Allied countries’. Neutral ships not carrying what the Germans would consider contraband would, at least into the first months of 1940, feel safe travelling independently, well marked and with lights on at night. The fact that neutral ships were permitted to sail independently in British waters made them vulnerable to mines and added to the policy of restricting the Q-message mine-warning system to the convoys, this resulted in greater losses from mines among the neutrals than necessary.
Contrary to the Atlantic convoys, the Scandinavian convoys were adequately escorted by potent A/S destroyers. Four to seven Home Fleet destroyers and one C-class A/A cruiser and/or a submarine usually made up the local escort for the convoys. Most convoys were also screened by a covering force of cruisers, keeping to the south. Occasionally, capital ships of the Home Fleet would also be at sea, covering the sailing from a distance, usually to the north-west. Air cover was also provided at times over the western part of the crossing. Weather was appalling during the winter, with frequent gales, snow and fog. Progress was slow at times, landfall was hazardous, and many ships lost touch during the nights in crossing.
Commander St John Aldrich Micklethwait of Eskimo. (Author’s collection)
There were also two convoys directly from Narvik to Scotland, one on 26 October (NV-1) and one on 18 December (NV-2). The gathering of the ore ships into convoys created serious delays though, and on 24 December, the Admiralty decided that fast ore ships to and from Narvik should sail independently and not join the North Sea convoys. This stemmed partly from questions as to who was to pay for the Norwegian pilots, which were compulsory inside the Leads, partly from the belief that the time saved on each round-trip was worth the risk, partly from the problem of providing escort for yet another convoy, and partly from ships sailing towards Narvik in ballast finding conditions inside the Leads challenging and wishing to stay offshore.16
The convoys were spread over a number of routes, sometimes by natural causes. Commander St John Micklethwait of Eskimo wrote in his characteristic brief style on convoy ON-3 departing on 26 November 1939:
26th Nov. 15:20: Weighed and proceeded [from Rosyth] to Methil to pick up Bergen convoy, Matabele, Icarus and Ilex in company. 17:00: Convoy ON-3 moved off, weather squally and dark.
27th Nov. Wind North West – fresh
28th Nov. 04:00: West North Westerly gale in full swing, convoy and escort being scattered.
29th Nov. Wind shifted to Southerly and eased
30th Nov. 03:00: Sighted Utvaer Light broad on the Starboard Bow distant 4 miles in bad visibility. Altered course to South West, switched on lights, blew ‘U’ on the siren and signalled to convoy ‘Steer South West’. All ships turned except one, the guide of convoy who struck a reef, but damage was not serious. 07:30: Convoy proceeded into harbour 21 hours late. It is understood that another ship ran aground whilst trying to go into harbour. 07:45: Commenced A/S sweep across the entrance to the harbour outside the three mile limit under the surveillance of Norwegian aircraft. 08:30: Four funnelled Norwegian destroyer appeared and made in English ‘Do you want them now?’ I replied ‘Yes, please’ and she bustled back into harbour returning shortly with the homeward bound convoy. 10:45: Took station ahead of convoy HN-3.
1st Dec. The night of 1st–2nd December was very dark and misty and convoy and escort became scattered but was rounded up with the exception of SS Eskdene, by the time landfall was made off Ratray Head at 11:00. 18:00 (approx.): Detached Icarus and Ilex to close Eskdene who had been mined or torpedoed.
3rd Dec. 02:30: Pilots boarded convoy inside May Island. 08:30 Secured to South Arm Rosyth Dockyard.17
Another Tribal-class destroyer, Afridi, was part of the local escort for convoy ON-23 departing Scotland in the end of March 1940. Stoker (Second Class) John Gritten recounted:
Sometimes as many as fifty vessels, many of them neutrals, would gather off Methil in the Firth and Afridi and other Fleet units, including Cairo and another anti-aircraft cruiser, Calcutta, would escort them across the North Sea to the offshore limits of Norwegian territorial waters where we would pick up a returning convoy. When one morning there was dense mist off the Norwegian coast and the convoy was not at the rendezvous, ignoring scruples about Norwegian neutrality, [Captain Vian in] Afridi not only crossed the invisible seaward frontier, but nosed his way up Bergen Fjord until we found our flock and led it out of the fjord into the open, but still shrouded, sea. Even on the stoker’s mess-deck we knew that this was a breach of a non-belligerent’s sovereignty, though no one doubted, from a strictly naval point of view that it was the right action in the circumstances.18
Entering Norwegian territorial waters was not according to regulations. Quite the contrary: if there was time to spare, the escort was instructed to sweep northwards, away from the rendezvous point, looking for German U-boats or merchant ships. The Cairo and Ceres-class light cruisers were rebuilt to A/A service from 1935. Torpedo tubes and original guns had been replaced by 4-inch high-angle guns and eight-barrel 2-pounder pom-poms with appropriate fire-control equipment to provide warships and convoys with protection against aircraft. The ships, assigned to the 20th Cruiser Squadron, were largely manned by reserve officers and drafted men, but deployed in some of the most exposed areas of the early war.19 Their deployment with the North Sea convoys was found necessary due to the risk of German air attack, and several A/A cruisers were transferred to the Home Fleet, earmarked for convoy duty. This was not trouble-free; on 24 November, Captain Brooke of Curlew reported to C-in-C Home Fleet that:
experience gained in patrol work with the Norwegian convoys has shown that a ship fitted without any weather protection to the guns, deep in the water and without trawler bows is entirely unfit for the work. [. . .] Since the ship was built, the mean draft has increased from 14 feet 1 inch to 17 feet 1.5 inches due to re-arming, fitting of type 79Z [radar set] and counter weight. The freeboard amidships has been reduced to only nine feet. On these patrols where moderate weather was experienced, the upper deck guns were constantly under water and the pom-pom under heavy spray. [. . .]. The only guns which could be fought were the super-structure guns, a total of five providing a broadside of only three guns. The ready use lockers were damaged and became saturated with water [and] it would have been impossible to open the ammunition supply hatches on the upper deck in the event of an action. The ship laboured most when steaming ten knots, about the speed of the convoy, with a quarterly sea. During this time the lee rail was almost constantly under water [. . .]. The maximum roll observed was 33°. The continual flooding of the sumps of the guns is leading to stiffness of training [and] heavy leakage.20
Admiral Forbes concluded that Curlew and Coventry, which both had open 4-inch mountings, should as far as possible only be deployed in sheltered waters.
The Scandinavian convoys quickly caught the attention of the SKL, which declared that ships joining the convoys did so at their peril. Still, not a single merchantman was sunk while under escort in one of the Scandinavian convoys.21 Why the SKL did not send surface forces to attack the Scandinavian convoys is slightly puzzling. A surface attack supported by U-boats and aircraft would have lured British cruisers and capital ships within reach, and proper coordination could well have given excellent results. One can only assume that the covering forces were considered too strong and the risk of losses too high. Instead, U-boat attacks were attempted at times.
A/A cruiser Curlew, May 1937. (W&L)
In the early morning of 18 February, while on the surface some 40 miles east of Pentland Firth, Kapitänleutnant Otto Kretschmer in U23 ran into convoy HN-12, of about thirty ships, from Bergen to Methil.22 At the time, the local escort consisted of the destroyers Daring and Ilex on the port and starboard quarters, respectively, while Delight and Inglefield were on the port and starboard bow. The A/A cruiser Calcutta and the submarine Thistle were also in company, while the cruisers Edinburgh and Arethusa with destroyers covered at a distance. Submarines were often added to the convoy escort at this time, when available, the concept being that they could attack heavy surface ships attempting to harass the convoy, obviating the need to deploy capital ships. Kretschmer noted in his KTB:
Convoy came into sight at bearing 0°. I steer ahead of it to eastward in order to get away from the moon and have the dark horizon in my back. The convoy, consisting of some twenty ships, is sailing in three columns with a destroyer at each corner. Those ahead are zigzagging. The rear destroyers are maintaining a steady course. Astern and between the two destroyers is an L-class submarine. While attempting to penetrate the convoy from the east and fire a shot at one of the large steamers sailing in the middle, I get caught between the two portside destroyers, so I decide to attack the one in the rear of the convoy. Torpedo fired from 800 m at 03:54.23
The destroyer emerging on the starboard bow of the U-boat, less than a mile away, was Daring, on station off the convoy’s port column. The weather was clear with a bright, nearly full moon and, according to existing instructions, neither Daring nor Ilex were zigzagging.24 Kretschmer decided the situation was too good to let pass and resolved to attack. None of the destroyers had sighted U23 and, being on the surface, she had not been picked up by their Asdics. Brief flashes of light were seen on board the destroyer as the black-out curtains were opened as men moved through them, and positioning the boat for an attack on Daring was easy. One torpedo was fired, after which U23 was turned quickly around heading away, still on the surface. On the way a second torpedo was fired at Thistle, but this missed and appears not to have been registered on board the submarine.
Type IIB U-boat U23. (Author’s collection)
The torpedo from U23 hit Daring on the port side aft. Shortly after detonating, it was followed by a secondary explosion, most probably as her after magazine went up, breaking the destroyer clean in two. The stern section towered up and sank rapidly until only a small part remained visible. The fore part capsized in less than thirty seconds and remained floating for about half an hour.25 Of the ship’s company 157 were lost, including Commander Sydney Cooper. Able Seaman Alfred Wilcox recounted:
I was at one of the gun stations on the middle watch looking forward to the time when very shortly I should be in my hammock, when suddenly there was a terrific explosion. The ship broke in half. I was thrown to the deck and saw the funnel falling towards me. Luckily it hit the gun and bounced over into the water. Then I went down with the ship as there was a second explosion. I remember rising to the surface to find the sea covered with oil. An air-lock beneath my oilskins enabled me to keep afloat, and I swam round until I came across two seamen clinging to a Carley float. One of them clambered aboard and pulled me and the other man up. It was dark, and we could hear the shouts of other men, but could not see them. The stern of the destroyer had returned to the surface, and I understand that one man clung to the propeller until he was picked up by a destroyer’s boat. [. . .] We saw what we took to be a submarine. Thinking it was British, we shouted as hard as we could. Then it occurred to us it might be the U-boat that had torpedoed us. We did not want to be picked up by them, so we stopped shouting.26
The submarine was Thistle and the survivors had been seen. Commander Robert Stirling-Hamilton had just gone below, as all seemed peaceful, when two loud explosions rang through the boat. Believing it was depth-charges from one of the escorts at an Asdic contact, he went above to investigate, but without calling the alarm. The officer of the watch told him that just after the explosions a column of black smoke had risen from the direction in which Daring had last been observed, but as the moon was about to set, it was difficult to see much. Closing, strange shapes were seen in the water, but as none of the convoy or the other escorts seemed to react it took some time before the men on the bridge of Thistle realised that it was Daring, which was nowhere to be seen, that had been sunk. A mine was unlikely due to the water depth, and Stirling-Hamilton realised with a chill that a U-boat was around. That a torpedo had already been fired at them and missed seems not to have been registered at all:
We circled near the wreck, keeping an eye open for survivors, looking and listening for the U-boat. With no signs of either, I could not close and stop without the risk of the submarine sinking us as well, for he would still be in the dark sector. At the same time I was every moment expecting the destroyer which had been ahead of Daring to drop back, but they evidently had heard nothing and it was only after a long pause that we were able to attract the attention of a destroyer to starboard of the convoy [Ilex]. She closed Thistle and when I had informed her captain of the situation he steamed off to the west saying that he would look for the U-boat while we were to pick up survivors. Unfortunately he lowered no boats and was out of sight before I could ask for them.27
Only three men were to be found. One disappeared before he could be picked up, one was relatively safe on board the still-floating stern of the destroyer, while the third clung to a small raft. The latter called that his arm was broken so he could not swim and Stirling-Hamilton brought the stern of his submarine as near to the raft as he dared.
Thistle’s RNR Lieutenant [P N Ennor] swam to him with a line. Instead of waiting to be towed alongside, raft and all, which was intended, the man let go and clung to the officer, taking both under water. When the latter had freed himself and grasped the man again, he could not hold him because everything was covered with oil and this unfortunate rating sank and did not reappear. The sea was not rough but the moderate swell made a big motion relative to the submarine’s stern and the officer ran a considerable risk of being severely injured on a propeller or other projection and he was bruised, exhausted bitterly cold and disappointed of having lost the man after his gallant effort.28
T-class submarine Thistle, August 1939. (W&L)
Ilex then returned briefly, lowering two whalers before taking off again searching for the U-boat. This facilitated the rescue work a great deal and the man from the stern (Able Seaman William McBride) was taken care of, although getting him on board the submarine was no easy task in the swell. At dawn it became obvious that there were no further survivors to be found, and Thistle and the other escorts out looking were ordered to rejoin the convoy. Picking up speed in the growing light, the raft with Wilcox and his mates was sighted and brought to the attention of a nearby destroyer, to pick them up. The men on the float had fought the cold and the heavy swell throughout the night, clinging to the raft as best they could. To keep spirits up they sang songs and cheered themselves with the thought that they would be entitled to fourteen days’ leave. When daylight came there was no sign of the wreck or other survivors, but after some time, to their immense relief, the destroyer Inglefield came into view, heading straight for them. By the time they were taken on board, Wilcox and the others on the raft were close to exhaustion and would not have lasted much longer. They were to be the only survivors from Daring, in addition to McBride onboard Thistle.29 Kretschmer continued to stalk the convoy from a distance during the day, but ran into several A/S groups and another heavily escorted convoy, protected by aircraft, that could not be attacked during daylight. HN-12 was no longer to be found.30
A week later, at 21:00 hours on 24 February, the 3,840-ton neutral Swedish Santos, sailing independently from South America to Gothenburg with general cargo, was torpedoed and sunk by U63 off Kirkwall. Thirty-one persons were lost, while the twelve survivors were picked up by the destroyer Gallant the next day, about 50 miles east of Duncansby Head.31 Meanwhile, the commander of U63, Oberleutnant Günther Lorentz received a signal from BdU that he was in a favourable position to intercept convoy HN-14, which had left Bergen for Methil on 22 February. The convoy consisted of fifteen to eighteen merchant ships and the escort consisted of the cruisers Edinburgh and Arethusa, the A/A cruiser Cairo, the destroyers Escapade, Eclipse, Escort, Electra and the minelayer-submarine Narwhal.32
Following the Altmark affair (see Chapter 23), there was increased German air and sea activity in the North Sea. Surface ships were also reported and the Admiralty, wishing a covering force to be available, had ordered the eastbound convoy ON-14 departing Methil for Bergen on 17 February to wait in Kirkwall until Rodney and Hood with escorts were in place in the area on the 20th. Meanwhile, the NCSO in Bergen was alerted and held HN-14 back, waiting for the escort to be ready to take over and bring this convoy back across the North Sea. Eventually, early in the morning of 24 February, the escort had found most of the remaining ships and the convoy was reformed, steering west. In the early morning of the 25th, Electra and Eclipse were detached to go north of the Orkneys with some ships destined for the British west coast. The rest continued towards Methil. At 07:00 the destroyers Inglefield and Imogen fell in, coming from Scapa Flow. At this time Escapade was on the port bow of the convoy, with Escort on the starboard bow and Narwhal abreast the leading ship of the port column.
At 07:55, east-south-east of the Orkneys, Narwhal reported: ‘Suspicious object 025 degrees’. Lieutenant Commander Eric Oddie had immediately turned his submarine towards the sighting, working up speed, and Commander Harry Graham in Escapade followed suit on receiving the signal. At that time, the weather was calm with a swell from the north and, shortly after, a U-boat became visible on the crest of a swell. Graham held his fire, hoping to get closer, but when it was at some 5,500 yards the U-boat, which was U63, dived rapidly.
Narwhal was ordered back to take care of the convoy and get out of the way, while Graham ran on for another few minutes at full speed before slowing down to give the Asdic a chance. Almost at once contact was obtained at 800 yards and he turned to attack. Contact was lost during the turn, though, the ship still having considerable way on her. Contact was regained, and a second attack was commenced. Meanwhile, Inglefield, Escort and Imogen were also closing and in their eagerness to deliver the first successful attack the destroyers got in each other’s way and contact was lost again. At about 08:30 Escort obtained contact and went straight in to attack. After this, Captain Percy Todd of Inglefield took charge and formed the four destroyers in line abreast, commencing a sweep. Unknown to the British destroyer captains, U63 had been damaged by the depth-charges dropped in spite of the melee, and Lorentz was compelled to take his boat to the surface at around 09:55. At the time, Escapade was furthest away and ordered by Todd to rejoin the convoy while Inglefield and Imogen headed for the German, both ships opening fire with their forward guns. U63 sank within minutes, and Inglefield, Imogen and Escort lowered boats, picking up survivors. The entire crew of four officers and twenty-one ratings were rescued. One man later died and was buried at sea. During interrogation, some of the officers criticised Lorentz for the handling of the boat, while he criticised his watch officer for not having torpedoes ready in the tubes when attacked, thus rendering U63 defenceless.33
On 8 March ON-18 was attacked by three Heinkels from KG26, but few bombs were dropped and no damage done. On 20 March, both sections of eastbound ON-21 were attacked in the Fair Isle area, as was a group of ships from Kirkwall, joining westbound convoy HN-20. Some of the ships were damaged, but none sank. Similar air attacks occurred during the next weeks on virtually every North Sea convoy, eastbound and westbound. Skuas and Hurricanes stationed on Shetland and the Orkneys or in the north of Scotland combined with the gunfire of the escorting anti-aircraft cruisers, effectively kept the Luftwaffe bombers at a distance and no ships were lost in the North Sea convoys.
