Читать книгу The French Navy in World War II - Paul Auphan - Страница 14

CHAPTER 3

The Opening of Hostilities

Regardless of how much they may have been anticipated, and plans made for all foreseeable eventualities, wars frequently break out in an unexpected manner. In 1870 a cleverly worded—and therefore misinterpreted—news dispatch, the famous Ems dispatch, so inflamed French public opinion that the national cry was, “On to Berlin!” In 1914 it was the assassination of the Archduke of Austria at Sarajevo that set up a chain of reactions which a month later provoked the First World War. In 1939 it was for remote Danzig that the Western democracies were willing to go to war. But for years the cause of peace in Europe had deteriorated.

In 1935 Mussolini’s invasion of Ethiopia had roused Britain’s opposition to the extent that the entire British Fleet had been concentrated between Gilbraltar, Alexandria, Haifa, and the Red Sea. Concerned over the threat of the Italian Fleet and Air Force to her naval forces in the constricted Mediterranean, Britain had asked the French Navy to guarantee her free use of the naval bases at Toulon and Bizerte. This accord was quickly given, and although hostilities between the powers did not then materialize, technical contacts had been established between the two navies which would bear fruit. Furthermore the British thereafter made no further attempts to limit French naval power.

When, in March, 1936, German troops entered the Rhineland in flagrant violation of treaty agreements, the contacts between the two navies were quickly reestablished. Neither the French Government, nor the British—especially the latter—desired or dared to react with force. Furthermore the bulk of the British Fleet was still in the Mediterranean, and British public opinion would not have supported even a token stand against Hitler. However, further military conversations took place not only between the Navies but between the General Staffs of the Armies and Air Forces as well. The Belgians also attended these conferences. The British promised the French that in case of German aggression, two divisions would be ready to embark in British ports within fourteen days after mobilization. The problem of transporting and escorting these troops was one of the main things discussed, and this joint staff work laid the foundation for joint effort in 1939.

On both these occasions, 1935 and 1936, the French Navy discreetly called back to service, by individual postcards, a few reserve specialists for “a period of training.” When, in 1938, Hitler’s annexation of the Sudetenland brought on another crisis, the precautionary measures taken by the French Navy were much greater in scope. As early as September all hands on leave were recalled and all ships brought up to full complement. Wartime commands were activated, and even a few preliminary mobilization measures were ordered. The cruiser schoolship Jeanne d’Arc, about to leave Brest on a round-the-world training cruise, took aboard combat ammunition over one side, and, over the other, it took on board cases of fine wines to be served at international receptions. No one knew which would go off first, the guns or the champagne corks! Then came the settlement at Munich, and peace—though for how long, no one had any idea.

These crises, as well as the Spanish Civil War, accustomed officers and crews to living in a constant warlike atmosphere. Flaws which had been revealed in the semimobilizations were promptly corrected—something which brought its reward in 1939, when mobilization was effected without a hitch. The Navy looked upon Munich as being nothing more than a temporary respite, and it vigorously speeded up its programs.

In March, 1939, came the next great crisis when Hitler marched his troops into Prague and “peacefully” annexed Czechoslovakia. This little country had an army 35 divisions strong, and would have provided worthwhile bases for Allied aviation. But its main defenses had been dismantled six months earlier when the statesmen of the West had withdrawn their support—partly because they considered Czechoslovakia indefensible.

Strategically this decision was prudent and wise—perhaps too wise. But such logic did not continue to prevail, for on March 31 Britain and France officially guaranteed the defense of Poland, a country much more remote and more difficult to defend. Thereupon Hitler immediately put forward new claims—on Danzig, this time—and war again seemed inevitable.

Joint British and French staff conferences were held at London on March 31, April 27, and May 3, 1939. The French delegation was headed by Vice Admiral Jean Odend’hal, who later was to represent the French High Command at the British Admiralty throughout the war.

Today, the officers of the North Atlantic Treaty Organization have daily staff conferences to work toward a common concept. In 1939 no such procedure was in existence, and these prewar Allied planning conferences were indispensable in deciding upon the general disposition of each fleet in time of war, as well as in establishing liaisons, and coordinating areas of command and establishing convoy routes and escort procedures. The Franco-British naval entente had been effected cordially and without mental reservations.

But Poland, trusting in the Allied guarantee, was beginning to inquire urgently what plans were being made to protect her in case of aggression. The British Navy declared—and justifiably—that circumstances did not lend themselves to operations in the Baltic; all that England contemplated was a few bombing raids over Germany. The French default was of the same order. The Army declared that all it could do, as a diversionary measure, was to hurl itself against the powerful fortifications of the German Siegfried line, without much hope of breaching it. The Air Force promised to contribute sixty Amiot type-143 bombers—planes which barely had flying range sufficient to make the trip across Germany to Poland’s westernmost airfields. As these airfields were captured by the Germans on the first day of hostilities, the gesture never had to be carried out.

Regardless of the Allies’ admission of helplessness, and perhaps suffering under the fatuous delusion that Hitler would be deterred by the mere paper guarantee of France and Britain, Poland refused to compromise. A Franco-British military and naval mission hurried to Moscow in an attempt to obtain the support of the Russians, but the Poles did not trust the Russians, did not want them on their territory. And then on August 21 Stalin closed the door in the face of the Allies by concluding a treaty of nonaggression and economic cooperation with Germany, with whom he also had a secret understanding for the partition of Poland.

In the French Navy, as odd as it may seem today, the pact between Stalin and Hitler was welcomed with relief. If French sailors had to fight, they would prefer not to have the Communists as allies.

Morale in the Navy was high. All leaves were cancelled and men ordered to report back to their ships immediately. On August 23 the Reservists were called up. Lookout and antiaircraft defenses were manned. Exchange of liaison officers was arranged: French officers to Malta, Gibraltar, Plymouth, Dover; British to Bizerte, Toulon, Brest, Dunkirk. Sizable naval missions were established in Paris and London. On August 25 a Franco-British signal code, prepared in great secrecy, was taken out of the security vaults and put into effect. Central Mediterranean trade was suspended; merchant ships and fishermen were advised to depart from German or Italian waters as speedily as possible. Even before mobilization a few trawlers were being obtained from willing owners for conversion to minesweepers. On the 30th the convoy and routing sections charged with the wartime dispatching of merchant shipping set up offices in the principal ports.

Little by little, the various wartime commands were activated. At the summit were Admiral of the Fleet François Darlan, Chief of the General Staff of the French Naval Forces, and General Gamelin, the Commander in Chief of the Army, each of them answerable only to the Government. The Minister of the Navy retained only the responsibility of operating the navy yards and maintaining the ships of the Fleet. The Commander in Chief, Darlan, had under his direct control the commanders of the various theaters of naval operations, each one responsible to Darlan for the conduct of all routine operations in his respective zone—convoys, escorts, air reconnaissance, antisubmarine warfare, etc.—as well as for special operations, for which the necessary ships were assigned to them. Under these theater commanders, in turn, were the commandants of the naval districts, who were responsible for the coastal defenses. As a rule the Commander in Chief reserved to himself the operational control of the high seas forces, the most powerful of which would be the Raiding Force (Force de Raid), under Admiral Marcel Gensoul. This force, to be set up on mobilization, consisted of the battleships Dunkerque and Strasbourg, the aircraft carrier Béarn, and some ten cruisers or super-destroyers.

In accordance with the war plan, the principal subordinates of the Commander in Chief were as follows: in the Mediterranean, Admiral, South (Admiral Jean Pierre Esteva), with headquarters at Toulon—or, in case of war with Italy, at Bizerte; in the North Atlantic, Admiral, West (Admiral Jean de Laborde), with headquarters at Brest; in the English Channel and North Sea, Admiral, North (Admiral Raoul Castex at first, and later Admiral Jean Abrial), with headquarters at Dunkirk; in the Far East, Admiral, French Naval Forces, Far East (Admiral Jean Decoux), with headquarters on board the Lamotte-Picquet, usually at Saigon; in the Caribbean Sea, Admiral, Antilles (Admiral George Robert), with headquarters at Martinique. Early in the war another theater commander, Admiral, Africa (Admiral Emmanuel Ollive), was established, with headquarters at Casablanca and with an operational zone reaching from Gibraltar to Dakar, and extending westward to include the Azores, Madeira, the Canaries, and the Cape Verde Islands.

Such was the worldwide extent of the French naval establishment, yet the organization was simple, adaptable, and efficient. It relieved the Commander in Chief of routine chores, it gave him time to think, and it allowed him to devote his attention to the global concept of a war at sea.

All tourists familiar with Paris know the Ministry of the Navy, that beautiful colonnaded building which borders the Place de la Concorde to the east of the Rue Royale. Its ornate facade dates back to Louis XV, and even before the Revolution it had the aspects of a museum. Except for a forest of antennas on the roof, the edifice in 1939 was externally much as it had been for 150 years. But the Navy had constructed a gastight underground air raid shelter there of reinforced concrete, designed to provide a safe working place for all the personnel in the building. It was at Rue Royale, center of information from all over the world, that the decision was made in August, 1939, to place the Navy on a war footing. And it was there that the final fatal information was received that plunged France into the chaos of another world conflict.

At daybreak on the 1st of September, following a so-called refusal on the part of the Warsaw Government to discuss the latest unacceptable proposals from Hitler, the German Army invaded Poland. In Berlin the British and French ambassadors solemnly warned Hitler that their countries would honor their commitments to Poland if this aggression was not halted immediately. In France general mobilization was decreed.

With the Navy’s personnel now up to strength of about 160,000,¹¹ the Navy’s forces took their initial stations as planned in case of war with Germany and Italy. On the assumption that there would be a German raid toward the Moroccan coast, a barrier line of large submarines was posted off Vigo and the Portuguese coast. Other submarines were stationed in the Mediterranean.

Regulars—91,093, of which 5,486 were officers; Reserves—69,243, of which 4,820 were officers.

However, during the day Italy declared herself provisionally neutral. Accordingly orders were issued immediately to all French ships and planes that Italian shipping was to be approached with the utmost caution and provoking incidents were to be carefully avoided.

The 2nd of September was a day of suspense, with frantic diplomatic negotiations proceeding in all the capitals. The French Parliament voted the military credits asked for by the Government, but not once was the word “war” mentioned. The navy yards began ship conversions according to program.

That same day the Navy Ministry received information indicating that the German Fleet had sortied in force from its bases two or three days previously, but, upon being questioned, the British confessed that they had no information of its whereabouts. Remembering the bombardments of Bône and Philippeville which had marked the beginning of World War I, the French now feared a similar raid on the Moroccan ports. Accordingly the Raiding Force was ordered to proceed at high speed from Brest toward Casablanca, and the minelaying cruiser Pluton to lay a protective minefield off the Moroccan coast. However, these emergency measures were countermanded when later intelligence rendered them unnecessary. Even though there was no fighting, however, the French suffered their first naval casualty of the war, for the Pluton was destroyed on September 13 by an explosion while her mines were being disarmed prior to off-loading. The French Navy lost 215 officers and men killed or missing in the explosion.

The 3rd of September was the day when the question of war or peace would be decided. Unfortunately the diplomats of France and Britain had not coordinated their efforts, for the British ultimatum to Germany expired at 11 a.m., while the French ultimatum did not expire until 5 p.m. Consequently the Royal Navy’s liaison officers already working beside their counterparts in the French Naval Ministry had some anguished hours while they faced the possibility, however unlikely, that they might find themselves alone in the conflict. However, 5 o’clock came, with no reply from Hitler, and the hours of peace in Europe had run out.

General Gamelin, speaking for the Army, advised the Navy that he would not undertake any operations until 5 o’clock the next morning, the 4th of September. With the authorization of the Premier, however, the Navy sent out a plain language radio message to all its ships and stations notifying them of a state of war.

Within two days Paris had its first air raid alarm. At the Navy Ministry, a beehive of activity, all hands grabbed gas masks and rushed to the armored shelter underground. The alarm proved to be false, but it confirmed one thing: the shelter was far too small, and it was unbearably hot. At the “all clear” the exhausted, perspiring officers and men climbed from the enclosure and stretched themselves out, panting, on the floors and desks, without regard to rank or station. And Admiral Darlan decided that he and his staff would move immediately to the “standby” headquarters, established several years earlier at Maintenon as an emergency command post outside the capital.

In modern war a bird’s-eye view of the field of battle is no longer an essential to the military leader. The primary functions of a naval commander in chief are the coordination and analysis of information, and, in conjunction with the Ministries of the government and with the other services, the determination of a program of action, which is then transmitted to the various subordinate commanders for actual implementation. To fulfill these functions, it was not necessary for the Chief of Staff of the French Naval Forces to locate his headquarters either on board ship or in the Naval Ministry at the capital. The most important requirement for a headquarters location is that it provide an adequate communication and liaison network.

The Navy had pondered this problem for some time, and originally it had selected as headquarters several casemates of the old fort of Vincennes, an edifice erected by the kings of France in the 14th century, and located in the immediate suburbs of Paris. But the accommodations were clearly inadequate, and in addition the location was too close to the capital with all its intrigues, indiscretions, and political interference.

The Navy’s preference, Maintenon, was a charming village seventy kilometers west of Paris. Excellent national and international telegraphic and telephonic communications were assured by cutting in the Navy’s headquarters directly on telephone and telegraph trunklines laid underground to the capital. The radio network was equally satisfactory. High speed teleprinters provided permanent liaison with subcommanders. There was an airfield nearby. And finally, while the capital was reasonably near, it was not uncomfortably so.

In effect, life at Maintenon was very like life aboard ship. Personnel were forbidden to have their families in the village, and everyone had to obtain special permission before “going ashore,” as it were. The offices of the staff were a group of huts ranged under the trees of a beautiful park, though a circle of sentries surrounded all.

It was there that Admiral of the Fleet Darlan, Commander in Chief of the Naval Forces, and his staff would reside until the spring of 1940. To distinguish this command post or headquarters from the Ministry of the Navy, which would remain at Rue Royale in Paris, Maintenon was designated the “French Admiralty.” The three or four hundred people attached to the command were under the orders of the Chief of Staff (Rear Admiral Maurice Le Luc) and the Deputy Chiefs of Staff (Captain Paul Auphan and Jean Négadele). These three worked at the same table, to which was routed all incoming information and from which all outgoing orders emanated. In his free moments Admiral Darlan would join the group and watch his staff at work while he smoked his beloved pipe.

As correspondent at Paris the French Admiralty had a man who today would be called a “sage”—Professor Henry Moysset, who for twenty years had lectured at the Naval War College and who also had been the chief private secretary of Navy Minister Georges Leygues. Professor Moysset²² was intimately acquainted with Germany and the Germans, and his wide international contacts constituted precious sources of information.

In 1941 Moysset became Minister without Portfolio to Marshal Philippe Pétain.

In establishing his headquarters at Maintenon, on the opposite side of Paris from the battlefront, Admiral Darlan felt certain that he would never be forced to evacuate them, even though the frontlines should waver.

But the Admiral’s confidence was short-lived, for by June, 1940, the German invasion threatened to engulf it, and the French Navy’s headquarters moved to Montbazon, near Tours. Then, during the tragic days of the armistice, it moved successively to Dulamont, near Bordeaux, then to Nérac, and, finally, to Vichy.

¹ Regulars—91,093, of which 5,486 were officers; Reserves—69,243, of which 4,820 were officers.

² In 1941 Moysset became Minister without Portfolio to Marshal Philippe Pétain.