The Battle of the Atlantic continued unabated, as German U-boats sought to sink the ships bringing the supplies …

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United we stand. Divided we fall. Divided, the dark ages return. United, we can save and guide the world.

In February, Churchill had declared, “Give us the tools to do the job”. In June 1941, Britain still stood alone. Now, even more of Europe was occupied and enslaved by the Nazi regime after the invasion of Yugoslavia and Greece. Although Britain was receiving substantial material support from America, the USA remained neutral. Churchill knew only too well that he needed much more than this level of support if he was to win the war. But this was about much more than Britain … this was about “the destiny of mankind”.

In a radio broadcast to the United States on the 16th June, Churchill took the opportunity to make a direct appeal to the American public. He had just been awarded an honorary degree by Rochester University1.

The audience was given the full treatment of Churchillian rhetoric:

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In the Libyan desert, British troops were besieged in the port of Tobruk. A substantial force had been stranded after German forces had made unexpected advances shortly after they arrived in Nor…

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Soon after Poland was divided between Germany and the Soviet Union in 1939, the Soviets extended their reach to the other Baltic states. Only Finland was in a position to resist militarily. For Estonians, Latvians and Lithuanians, the Soviet system meant a murderous dictatorship.

The 14th June 19411 is remembered in Estonia as the day that Stalin began the mass arrest of thousands of ‘suspect’ individuals and their families:

It was half past eight on a fine sunny morning on the 14th of June 1941. I remember having spent a restful night in bed. Somehow the fear of the N.K.V.D. had not weighed on me as heavily as usual. Both, my wife and I, felt refreshed. We went downstairs for breakfast. The dining room was unusually deserted. The food on the table was untouched. My parents-in-law were mysteriously nowhere in the house. This was unusual indeed at this hour. We thought of even going to look for them in the garden.

We had not gone far when we came across the maid. She looked very pale and startled, with feverish eyes.

“The Professor and the Mrs. have gone out,” she said.

“There was a telephone message.”

“What telephone message?” asked my wife.

“From the country…from your uncle’s farm.”

Her voice was unsteady.

“It was not your uncle who telephoned…it was a relative. Something terrible has happened. They have all been arrested, all of them…your uncle, aunt, cousin and the cousin’s wife together with their little son and Vilma. The N.K.V.D. came for them.”

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Squadron Leader Edward Howell1 felt that he had a hard act to follow when he took over No 33 Squadron RAF on Crete in mid-May 1941. Only the remnants of the Squadron (along with No 80 Squadron) had been evacuated to Crete from Greece, where the previous Squadron leader, Pat Pattle, had been killed in the Battle of Athens.

With no previous experience with Hurricanes, Howell nevertheless shot down a German transport and a Stuka divebomber despite being heavily outnumbered during the desperate fighting in the days before the airborne invasion. When the last remaining Hurricane was evacuated to Egypt, Howell stayed to defend Maleme airfield with the remainder of his Squadron and their ground crew. Fighting alongside the New Zealand Infantry, he was badly wounded by a burst of submachine gun fire from a German paratrooper in the opening stages of the assault on 20th May.

With bullet wounds to his left shoulder and to his right arm, he was entirely dependent on others. He attributed his survival to the fact that the tourniquet on his right arm had only been loosely applied, stemming the heavy bleeding but allowing some blood to flow to the rest of his arm for the five days before he received medical attention. He was then one of the first wounded POWs flown out to Greece:

Every lurch of the lorry moved my arms. The vibration shook the shattered flesh and bones. I cried out. Mercifully I was only partly conscious.

I remember sunny streets seen through a slit in the canvas. Then I was lying on a paved stone floor in the entrance of the prisoner-of-war hospital. Someone asked in English for my name. As I was speechless, they looked at my bloodstained identity discs. I was carried away.

Weeks later, I was to discover that my desert boots which had been tied to my stretcher had been stolen with my stockings and wallet. I was left wearing a pair of blood-soaked shorts, and my identity discs.

But the ordeal was very far from over. There was no pain relief and little food. Breakfast was half a slice of brown bread and a mug of ‘ersatz coffee’.

Lunch was the next great event. It consisted of a plate of hot “soup.” This thin washy water had beans floating in it and sometimes a trace of horse meat. With it, we would have another half-slice of bread. Usually it would be dry bread as we were only allowed one helping of white lard each day and this was most often reserved for the evening meal.

The “specials,” like myself, who were seriously ill, could have some coarse rice pudding to feed us up. I always accepted this and passed it on to Butch [a fellow patient who was nursing him] who had a healthy appetite and was able to get it down. I would eat a few grapes in lieu.

The afternoon was a time for rest. The healthier patients went out on to the flat roof where they lay in the sun reading or dozing. I just lay. Sometimes I slept when the pain was less acute than usual. I had a fever for those first three months which did not drop below 100 degrees and went as high as 104 degrees at times. It made one content just to lie quietly. There was no energy to spare for any other activity.

Howell estimated they were on a daily diet of around 1200 calories. He was grateful for the Greek Red Cross's efforts to provide them with some extra food, but regular Red Cross parcels from home did not arrive until September.

The prolonged starvation diet weakened everybody. Those who were fit found that they got tired quickly; those who were ill made slower progress than they should have; those who were very ill died. Symptoms of beri-beri, which is a deficiency disease, appeared; legs became weak and the joints swollen.

And hunger has a psychological as well as a physical effect. Tempers became short; men became angry over trifles. A fight nearly developed one day because one man had been given a slightly smaller slice of bread than his neighbour for two successive meals. And there was a commotion because it was thought that we were being given less food in our ward than on the other wards.

It was not until September that Howell began to recover, after another emergency operation. The following year, he was to make an extraordinary escape from a hospital and an epic journey across the Greek mountains to freedom in Turkey. He would later retrace his steps for a BBC series titled ‘Deliverance’, which is now seemingly unavailable. Returning to RAF duties but unable to fly after losing part of his right arm, he made a distinguished contribution to the preparations for D-Day. He was awarded the US Legion of Merit2 in 1945.

2

Wing Commander Edward A Howell, OBE, DFC, Greek Flying Cross, US Legion of Merit (1912-2000)

Part of the Battle of Crete sequence:

‘Battle for Crete’: After the swift victory over Greece, German attention shifts to the strategically important island, and an invasion plan is hastily improvised

20th May 1940: The battle for Crete begins: German bombing and machine gunning are followed by parachute drops over a wide area - they are met with fierce resistance and suffer heavy casualties

22nd May 1941: Crete - possession of the airfields is vital: The exceptional Charles Upham leads a counterattack at Maleme airfield and personally overcomes several enemy positions

23rd May 1941: Destroyer v Dive bomber: HMS Kelly, under the command of Lord Louis Mountbatten, eventually loses a battle to evade the bombers by sharp manouvering

25th May 1941: Attack and counter-attack on Crete: The strategic location of Galatas village makes it the focus of alternating assaults by German and British forces, joined by Cretan civilians

28th May 1941: Crete - retreat over the mountains: The evacuation of British forces gets underway, and thousands of men must make the march to the southern beaches, in the hope of being taken off

29th May 1941: Many men who have survived the battle die during the evacuation by sea

30th May 1941: Even as British forces are being evacuated under fire, the Germans realise that what they have achieved has come at a terrible cost

1st June 1941: The British run out of time to evacuate the remaining soldiers on Crete, even though they have not not yet been apprehended by the Germans

2nd June 1941: Civilians massacred at Kondomari: A rare instance of photographic evidence of a Wehrmacht atrocity, an example of so many similar executions of civilians throughout the war

4th June 1941: Does the Nazi airborne invasion of Crete mean that paratroopers are an even more credible threat for an attack at home

10th June 1941: Churchill defends the Battle of Crete: The House of Commons debates the latest in a long line of defeats for British forces facing the Germans

13th June 1941: Few of the 16,00 men taken prisoner on Crete receive enough food, but the wounded suffer a prolonged ordeal

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As Britain continued to suffer from widespread bombing raids, it was considered essential that RAF Bomber Command should ‘hit back’. The bombing fleet still consisted mainly of nearly obsolete two-engined bombers, the Whitley, the Hampden, the Wellington, and the ill-fated Manchester (which operated for only 10 months in 1941 before being withdrawn because it was essentially unsafe to fly). The limited range and payload of these aircraft meant that Bomber Command was not making a significant impact on the Nazi war machine, certainly not impeding its preparations for Barbarossa.

But the RAF were on a steep learning curve, and the lessons learnt during this phase of the war would be vital to later operations. Despite the manifest dangers, there was no lack of courage amongst the flying crews of RAF Bomber Command, and some men were coming back for a second tour of duty.

Martin W. Bowman has had a long career collecting the reminiscences of aircrew from both Britain and America after the war, and is credited with over 100 published titles. The following excerpt comes from Volume 1 of Bomber Command: Reflections of War, first published in 2011. The first episode comes from this period, the second from the night of 2nd/3rd June 1941:

Throughout that spring, summer and autumn, Bomber Command operated mainly against Bremen, Cologne, Kiel, Munster and Mannheim.

Flight Sergeant George P Dove, an air gunner on 10 Squadron, recalls:

We were at RAF Leeming in 1941 with Whitley Vs and were briefed that if our primary or secondary targets could not be found, any target of opportunity could be bombed. Despite the good met forecast, we found ourselves in 10/10ths cloud and any hope of finding either target was soon dashed. After sniffing around for an hour looking for a break, the Skipper called up and said ‘that’s it; we’ll head North West over Holland and home’.

The thick cloud persisted until we were well over Holland when it suddenly cleared and there, right ahead of us, was an airfield fully lit-up, with aircraft circling with nav lights on. The navigator said it was Schiphol and it was the Luftwaffe doing circuits and bumps. It was at this point that our pilot, who was a pre-war regular and very much a press-on type, decided to switch on our nav lights and join the circuit.

Picture a Whitley in the circuit with assorted Luftwaffe aircraft over a German airfield. We must have arrived towards the end of the night’s exercise because one by one the aircraft landed until we were the only one left in the circuit. The runway controller was flashing us a persistent green to come in.

The pilot called on the intercom, ‘I am going to do a long downwind leg, then come back over the hangars low and fast. Navigator, drop the bombs on the hangars and rear gunner spray the airfield as we pass.’

As we sped out to sea, I gave a running commentary on what was happening. All the lights went out at once, bursts of flak, searchlights and red flares - all too late, we were well on our way home.

On the night of 2/3 June, the target was Düsseldorf. Cloud conditions prevented accurate bombing, and only 107 aircraft out of the 150 bombers dispatched claimed to have bombed. Two Hampdens and a Whitley were lost.

Squadron Leader Fred J ‘Popeye’ Lucas from South Otago, a Wellington pilot and ‘A Flight’ commander on 75 New Zealand Squadron, did not remember feeling ‘superstitious’ about the start of a second operational tour but there were times in the trip when he thought that they were going to provide another statistic.

It was probably one of the worst he experienced in over 81 night operations over Germany. He had completed his first tour of operations, having done 37, on 23/24 September 1940 on the operation to Berlin and had then been posted to an OTU at Hampstead Norris.

His facial resemblance to the famous cartoon character ‘Popeye’ became even more pronounced when he removed his false teeth. His gumminess was the legacy of his determination to become a pilot after being turned down by the RNZAF because of his poor educational background. Undaunted, ‘Popeye’ Lucas had sailed to England as a deck hand and the RAF accepted him on condition that he had his teeth fixed.

After his return from Dusseldorf, to his log-book entry he added the words:

‘Thirty-four holes in aircraft - a write off.’ At the target, all hell was let loose on our first run in. We were thrown all over the place and my navigator, Dave Florence, said, ‘It’s a dummy run - go round again.’ The second run was just as bad but we got our bombs away before something hit us with a terrific ‘whammrn’ followed by a further ‘whumff, whumpp’ after which we couldn’t close the bomb doors.

It was like an inferno; the Wellington was taking hits from all sides, with shell flashes and tracer zipping by and searchlights probing everywhere. The port motor was struck and started a fire, which luckily, went out. Our hydraulics were shot away and the red light showed the undercarriage was down. I leaned forward to adjust the gyro compass and at the same instant heard an eerie ‘sw-i-i-sh’ behind my neck, followed by a rush of cold air. A lump of shrapnel the size of a fist, sliced through where my neck had lately been and exited through the other window.

Something plucked at my sleeve and I turned to see what my second pilot, Tim Williams, of Hawkes Bay, otherwise known as ‘Scruffy’, wanted but it was more shrapnel passing through the sleeve on my overall.

The Wellington made it across the Dutch coast and to England where Lucas was told to divert to Newmarket because Feltwell had just been bombed. The port engine was virtually seized up and fuel critically low. With the fuel gauges reading zero ‘Popeye’ Lucas prepared to run straight in for a landing on the long grass runway at Newmarket Heath but control told him to go round again because they had a Stirling coming in on three engines and it had priority. ‘Lucky bastard’ Lucas retorted; ‘We’ve only got one.’

It fell on deaf ears. Fortunately ‘Popeye’ Lucas was familiar with the airfield and could find a place in the dark, well away from the flare path where he could get down - quickly. His Wellington floated interminably until at last, as their remaining engine finally cut, he touched down. A few minutes later Control came on again: ‘You are free to land now.’

As we lounged on our parachutes under the wing of the aircraft, waiting for transport, ‘Scruffy’ Williams whose first trip this had been, was lying relaxed on the damp grass, his head on his parachute, chewing a blade of grass. ‘Gee’ he mused. ‘If all the trips are like this one, it won’t be so bad...’

© George W. Bowman 2011, ‘Volume 1 of Bomber Command: Reflections of War’. Reproduced courtesy of Pen & Sword Publishers Ltd. NB The above images are not from this volume.

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The civilian population of Crete had joined in the defence of their island alongside Greek and British armed forces. Some might regard this as a matter of self-defence, but the Germans interpreted it as “partisan” activity because they were not wearing uniforms and, in their eyes, were outside the rules of warfare. There were also rumours that bodies had been mutilated or that even some parachutists had been tortured - although a much more likely explanation was that bodies, necessarily left on the landing grounds, very rapidly decomposed in the heat.

As a result, Hermann Goering, in charge of the Luftwaffe and airborne forces, ordered reprisal measures.

Shooting groups of civilian ‘hostages’ as reprisals for any action against the occupying forces was a very common German practice - especially in Poland and on the eastern front. This was a rare instance in which there remains fairly comprehensive photographic and written evidence of the circumstances. German war correspondent Peter Weixler took a series of images and later made a statement to the Allies1 for the trial of Goering after the war:

The punitive expedition consisted of Trebes, another lieutenant, an interpreter, two sergeants and about twenty five parachutists of the Second Battalion. As a photographer assigned to my division I was permitted to accompany this commando. Near the village of Malemes, we stopped and Trebes showed us the corpses of several soldiers, obviously in the process of decay. He incited the men against the civilian population. We continued our drive to the village of Kondomari.

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Australian Staff Sergeant Ray Ryan1 got a rude shock on the morning of the 1st. He and his comrades were waiting near the beaches of Sphakia, expecting to soon be evacuated:

The next morning the 1st June 1941, a Sunday. I woke to find white flags fluttering everywhere. I didn’t take much notice of that as it…

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Bismarck had sunk the pride of the Royal Navy, HMS Hood and had damaged Britain’s newest battleship HMS Prince of Wales, in her very first action. But she had been damaged herself and the action had revealed that the deployment of Royal Navy forces were not as the Germans had thought when they had set sail.

Admiral Lutjens, commanding the operation from Bismarck, now faced some difficult decisions. There were many competing considerations to take into account. Captain Lindemann, captain of the Bismarck would likely have made different decisions. Whether taking another course would have led to a different outcome is highly debatable.

The different factors weighing on Lutjens are explored in this extended extract from ‘Battleship Bismarck’:

After the battle of the Denmark Strait had concluded, Admiral Lutjens was forced to make some important decisions regarding his conduct of Operation Rheinubung. Bismarck had just sunk the premier warship in the Royal Navy and damaged her consort but did so at a cost. Bismarck received three hits, while the heavy cruiser was undamaged. Shortly after the battle ended, Admiral Lutjens met with his staff and with Captain Lindemann.

He pointed out that he had left Norway under the illusion that the British Home Fleet was in Scapa Flow and that to the best of his knowledge, the Royal Navy was unaware that his two ships were headed for the Atlantic Ocean. His first disappointment was being detected by Suffolk and Norfolk in the Denmark Strait. Despite rain, fog, or snow, their radar was able to keep track of his battle fleet. The final surprise came that morning with the appearance of HMS Hood and Prince of Wales, which he thought was King George V.

If other ships of what he believed was the Home Fleet were in pursuit, they too would probably be equipped with this more advanced radar. There was no safe haven in the Atlantic Ocean, but he also had to contend with battle damage to his flagship.

At this moment, Admiral Lutjens must have thought back to the meeting on 25 April that he had had with Rear Admiral Kurt Fricke, Admiral Raeder’s chief of operations. Fricke asked him what he would do if major forces of the Royal Navy should confront him. Liitjens replied, “I would immediately head for home.”

Now was the time for a real decision to be made: back to Germany or out to the Atlantic.

When the morning action had terminated, Captain Lindemann wanted to continue the battle and pursue the damaged British battleship. Lindemann pointed out that his gunnery officer, Commander Adalbert Schneider, had expended only ninety-three 380-mm shells in vanquishing his opponents, and sinking Prince of Wales would be a major triumph for the German navy. One survivor recalled that this discourse ended in an argument between Lutjens and Lindemann about breaking off the action with Prince of Wales.

Such a debate between an admiral and a captain was contrary to tradition in the German navy, but Lindemann was a person who spoke his mind, despite his subordinate rank. This had been evident when Adolf Hitler visited Bismarck earlier that month. A fleet commander, such as Lutjens, had complete authority within his flagship.

The only evidence that gives credence to this supposedly argumentative exchange is that someone overheard an officer of the fleet staff tell Commander Oels over the phone that Lindemann tried to persuade Lutjens to pursue Prince of Wales. According to other reports that Lieutenant Commander von Mullenheim-Rechberg heard during the remainder of the mission, there was a heavy atmosphere on the bridge after the decision had been made to terminate any further action against Prince of Wales.

Admiral Lutjens probably made the argument that the primary mission of Operation Rheinubung was the destruction of merchant shipping and that enemy warships were to be engaged only when the primary mission made it necessary and it could be done without excessive risk. The morning battle could not have been avoided due to the aggressive approach of the two British capital ships.

Admiral Lutjens probably put forth a decisive argument that in any further action with two heavy cruisers and a slightly damaged battleship in contact, his force was at a risk of more serious battle damage. The two cruisers were undamaged and posed a risk with their 203-mm guns and torpedo armament if an active pursuit of Prince of Wales continued.

There was danger that other units of the Home Fleet could be at sea; therefore, he was not going to take any further action but instead would adhere to the orders of Operation Rheinubung to avoid battle unless there was a good chance of success. That success was not guaranteed at this point of the mission.

To forestall such encounters, Bismarck turned closer to the ice limit where there were great ice floes. Prinz Eugen was ordered to take a position to the stern of Bismarck to track the three British pursuers.

With his suggestion on further action with Prince of Wales having been rejected, Captain Lindemann reportedly voiced the opinion that Bismarck should then return to Norway or Germany.

Admiral Lutjens told Lindeman that this mission was to be cruiser warfare. To maintain a threat to convoy shipping, he had to choose between battles with the odds heavily in his favour, accepting some risk of damage, or disengaging. Pursuit by the enemy with three ships in the area, including two with more sophisticated radar, would put the safety of an already damaged Bismarck at extreme risk. There was also the possibility that Prinz Eugen could be damaged during such an engagement.

Captain Lindemann allegedly did challenge the decision to head for France, telling Lutjens, “My ship should return to Bergen. Bismarck is too fine a ship to be risked in unequal engagements.” Lutjens retorted by telling Lindemann that by heading to France, he could be back at sea within a few weeks, perhaps even be joined by Scharnhorst and Prinz Eugen. Friction reportedly was also present between the staff and ship officers.

Quite possibly, there were more unknown pursuers to the east, based upon radio traffic being monitored by B-Dienst units on both the cruiser and the battleship. It was believed from these messages that the position, bearings, and speed of the German squadron were being broadcast to forces coming from the east. Based upon the call letters of Suffolk (K3G), Admiral Lutjens and his staff concluded that they had fought Hood and either King George V or Renown during the morning hours of 24 May and signaled the German naval command at 0632:

"Battleship, probably Hood sunk. Another battleship. King George V or Renown, damaged and turned away. Two heavy cruisers maintaining contact." With no acknowledgment from Naval Group North of this radio message, he sent a second message at 0705: “Have sunk a battleship in approximate position, quadrant 73 AD [63° 10' N, 32° O' W],”

The Germans never thought that one of their opponents could be the brand-new Prince of Wales, exposed to the risk of battle with so little training and workup time. It was also believed from Luftwaffe sighting reports (later proven to be disastrously in error) that the major elements of the Home Fleet were in Scapa Flow as late as 21 May.

It was clear to Admiral Lutjens that battle damage to his ship and flawed German intelligence concerning radar and air reconnaissance had seriously jeopardised his mission. The Luftwaffe reconnaissance that reported units of the Home Fleet in port was clearly wrong. The effectiveness of their radar was confirmed when the two British cruisers were able to maintain contact throughout the night in bad visibility, providing information that had led heavy units into action with his task force and endangered the refueling of Prinz Eugen.

While Captain Lindemann and Admiral Lutjens debated the future course of action for the German battleship, there was great jubilation on board Bismarck when an announcement was made over the loudspeakers that the Hood had been sunk. The crew felt that the Germans’ most dangerous adversary had been eliminated.

An “all clear” was sounded on the German ships at 0830, allowing weary crews that had been at action stations for over twelve hours to relax a little. On Bismarck, off-duty officers gathered in the officers’ wardroom to toast the gunnery officer, Commander Schneider, on his sinking of Hood. Champagne toasts were made, but no one present was aware of the seriousness of the ongoing damage-control efforts below or that this would be the last time such a gathering would take place under low-stress conditions.

Aboard Prinz Eugen, Captain Brinkmann was relieved that his ship had no battle damage, but he was becoming increasingly concerned with his fuel situation. The mood of his crew was jubilant. The crew from turret Anton called the gunnery officer, Commander Jasper, on the telephone so he could hear them playing his favourite dance tune on a phonograph.

Ever since leaving the island of Rugen, there had been problems synchronising the speed of the two ships based on their propeller revolutions. At full load, Bismarck made her predicted speed according to her trial data. Prinz Eugen always had to proceed at one knot less than her speed predicted for her full-load displacement to keep up with Bismarck. After the battle of the Denmark Strait, the difference became two knots; Bismarck was making less speed due to battle damage. This speed problem only made it clearer to both Captain Brinkmann and Admiral Lutjens that certain dangers lay ahead with more enemy heavy forces and a concentrated attack on the German squadron.

Decisions by Admiral Lutjens

In dealing with the current situation and continuation of the mission, Admiral Lutjens had to consider two main points, now knowing that information about the disposition of the Home Fleet in Scapa Flow was wrong after the appearance of Hood. First, the shell damage in the bow and outside the forward port boiler room, along with flooding in boiler room number two (compartment XIII) and electrical generation station number four (compartment XIV), created serious operational problems for Bismarck. Second, continuation of the mission to the south would allow the opportunity to detach Prinz Eugen to continue cruiser warfare, while Bismarck could draw British forces away from the heavy cruiser and toward a concentration of U-boats.

Admiral Lutjens decided that the strategic situation was clear; he must try to avoid further action as his ship had sustained some serious flooding, damage, and some loss of mobility and was losing fuel. He did not have a full report of battle damage that might force him to seek a port for repairs. Two undamaged and still battle-worthy British heavy cruisers were following close astern, and King George (really Prince of Wales) was still to the east out of range. Their presence and continuing pursuit made return to Norway impossible.

The unexpected appearance of Hood and Prince of Wales that morning was a clear indication that other units of the Home Fleet probably were also at sea to the east and closing his position now that his location was known. His primary concern was whether a carrier was among those ships searching for him.

He now had to devise a new plan of action because a serious problem was developing with the fuel situation aboard Prinz Eugen. Based upon reports he was receiving from Captain Brinkmann, the cruiser had been using a great amount of fuel during this high-speed chase over the last eleven hours and needed to be refueled within thirty-six to forty-eight hours. With British forces in close pursuit, underway replenishment could not be accomplished from Bismarck. With her reserve fuel tanks not serviceable, Bismarck was no longer in a position to refuel the cruiser even if contact were broken. One of the oilers already stationed in the North Atlantic would have to refuel Prinz Eugen.

The preliminary report from damage control indicated that shipyard repairs would be required for the two areas of hull damage. The fuel situation aboard Bismarck was also serious, as the forward reserve fuel tanks could not be used due to the inaccessibility of the fuel pumps, manifolds, and piping. A substantial amount of fuel was still leaking into the sea from the shell hit below the bridge, making detection and pursuit of the ship easier for the enemy. The outflow of oil could not be checked unless divers were sent below. The sea conditions and the proximity of British forces precluded that operation.

Fleet engineering officer Dr. Karl Thannemann, who had been the chief engineering officer of the ill-fated heavy cruiser Blucher, and Commander Walter Lehmann were going over the fuel situation. Each supervised a team of men assigned to take soundings of all the operational fuel tanks. Tanks in the forecasde could not be accessed due to flooding on the Batteriedeck and the deck below. Whether the fuel tanks affected by the shell hit were sounded is not known.

Captain Brinkmann in Prinz Eugen was ordered to do the same. The fuel report that came later from Prinz Eugen was discouraging. At 0801, Liitjens decided to abort Operation Rheinubung, reporting to German shore-side commands on damage to his flagship:

“Two heavy hits. One in Compartments XIII—XIV with the loss of electrical station 4; port boiler room is taking water, which we can control. Second hit compartment XX-XXI in the forecasde. Shell entered port, exited starboard above armor deck. Third hit on a boat, of no concern. Denmark Strait 50 nautical miles wide. Drifting mines. Enemy has radar. Intentions: Enter St. Nazaire. Sea God [code for Prinz Eugen] cruiser war. No casualties.”

At this point, Lutjens had given up any idea of returning to Norway despite the fact that it was closer than the French coast. He would have had to evade the two cruisers and one damaged battleship; there was also the potential problem of unexpected encounters with other units of the Home Fleet, especially aircraft carriers and aircraft attacks.

Including the effects of the counterflooding to correct list and trim, there were some 1,500 to 2,000 tonnes of seawater in Bismarck from various sources. This flooding, coupled with the loss of fuel oil due to seawater contamination and a disabled boiler, meant there would not be sufficient speed to outdistance her pursuers under the present conditions.

The radar in the pursuing British cruisers proved to be remarkable in tracking the German squadron in fog, snow, and rain. The only option left was to lose them in the vastness of the Atlantic Ocean by manoeuvring under the cover of darkness, which in these latitudes would occur during the early morning hours of 25 May. If he steamed farther south, this would provide a longer night period and make it easier to lose them. A course to the south also would keep a safer distance between his ships and any other pursuers from Scapa Flow.

© William H. Garzke 2019, ‘Battleship Bismarck’. Reproduced courtesy of Naval Institute Press and Pen & Sword Publishers Ltd.

‘Battleship Bismarck, A Design and Operational History’, published by the Naval Institute Press and Seaforth Publishing in 2019, is a magnificent volume, a valuable attempt to tell the whole story of the Bismarck in one volume. Probably every relevant image of the Bismarck has been collected together here and reproduced on high quality paper, alongside many charts and diagrams. The whole story is told in some detail, as can be judged from the excerpt above.

The original thinking about new battleships for the Kriegsmarine and how she was designed is explored, providing a full context for her deployment. The account is taken right through to modern times, featuring a number of photographs from James Cameron’s 2002 undersea exploration of the wreck, along with accompanying analysis of the ship's damage. The human story is by no means neglected, with a whole appendix devoted to ‘Survivors Reports’.

The HUNT THE BISMARCK sequence:

5th May 1941: As the ‘most powerful battleship in the world’ prepares for her first operation, Hitler discusses the plan to attack convoys in the Atlantic

21st May 1941: The world’s largest and most modern battleship cannot break out into the Atlantic unseen - its operation now closely watched by Berlin, London and Washington

23rd May 1941: The advent of radar suddenly changes the balance of advantage for the new ‘super battleship’

24th May 1941: One of just three survivors from the ‘Mighty Hood’, pride of the Royal Navy, describes her final minutes

25th May 1941: After sinking HMS Hood, there is disagreement over the next course of action - an exclusive excerpt from ‘Battleship Bismarck’

26th May 1941: The secret role of US personnel, the interception of messages and an appalling mistake by the Fleet Air Arm are part of a last day of high drama

27th May 1941: The interior of the battleship becomes a horrific mess of ‘flesh and bone’, as revealed in Naval Intelligence interviews with the survivors

Impressive battleships continued to have a place in the naval imagination into the 1930s and 1940s, as the capital ships of their day. All the major nations were still building them. It simply appeared necessary to have ships that were at least as powerful as those of your potential foes.

But by 1941, the scenarios originally envisaged for Bismarck’s deployment no longer applied. Now that she was fully commissioned, Hitler was impatient to see her utilised. So, having built the Bismarck, at no small diversion of resources, the Kriegsmarine were in something of a quandary as to how to use her.

Although powerful, Bismarck by herself could not be turned against the many and varied forces of the Royal Navy without serious risk of loss.

So Operation Rheinübung, ‘Exercise Rhine’, was conceived. The Bismarck was sent off to sea under strict orders not to engage with the Royal Navy unless there was a good chance of success. Her objective was to strike at merchant shipping in the Atlantic. Hitler was only interested in striking British warships insofar as they were protecting the supply of goods across the Atlantic.

More than that, this large, impressive ship, designed to project power, had to depart in secret. She was to attempt to break out into the Atlantic unseen.

Such a notable ship was not going to move unnoticed by friend, foe or neutral. She would have to slide close past the coasts of Denmark (occupied) and Sweden (neutral), then refuel in Norway (occupied).

Once in the open ocean, Bismarck had to face a new threat.

Alan Raven1 highlights the innovative use of radar, recently installed on the cruiser Suffolk:

The Bismarck episode was the first instance in history where extended tracking of surface targets was made by radar, and not by a dedicated surface-warning set, but by a gunnery set fitted on the Suffolk. This ship had very recently become operational after a ten-month repair, at the end of which, she was fitted with a Type 279 air-warning set, and a Type 284 gunnery set. The aerials for Type 284 were attached to the roof of the main director, which had to sweep to allow the radar set to perform a search. Although not designed to operate in a search mode to allow radar coverage, this could be done, but in a judicious manner, because constant training of the director would have a negative effect on its mechanism.

On the 23rd, before making contact with the Bismarck, the Type 284 set was being used as a navigational aid, allowing a patrol distance to be maintained within 24,000 yards off the ice shelf, when visibility ranges were less than eight miles. Although the first sighting was at 1922, it was not until 1934 that radar contact was made. Of the six initial sighting reports sent to Admiralty, five were based upon data from the Type 284 radar.

From 2043 to 2154, Bismarck was within visual range that varied from 15 to 18 miles. At 2154 Bismarck entered a rainstorm at a speed of 28 knots and was tracked and held by the 284 until visual touch was regained at 2258.

The above will give the reader an idea of how effective Type 284 radar was for tracking targets in very poor weather, in spite of not having automatic all-round sweep ability, as many later surface-warning sets had. When the Bismarck was in visual contact, the radar was not used for tracking in order to reduce the wear on the training mechanism of the director. Shadowing by a combination of visual and radar continued until about 0326 on the 25th, when radar contact was lost. From the time of first sighting at 1922 on the 23rd to 0326 on the 25th when contact was lost, the Bismarck was at no greater a distance from Suffolk than 18 miles.

The use of Suffolks radar was not only the first time that radar had been used for an extended period of time for tracking surface targets, but also the longest ever recorded! Throughout, the set performed well, without any breakdowns, and was a superb example of tactical use made without any prior training or written procedure laid down.

The use of Type 284 in its designed function was mixed, but when Bismarck tried to ambush the Suffolk between 1805 and 1855 on the 24th, Suffolk made use of her Type 284, first to avoid, and then when firing her 8in guns in return fire, she obtained a straddle at a range of 20,700 yards using radar ranges.

The successful use of this set highlights well the somewhat poor performance of Type 286m radar as was fitted in Norfolk. This had been installed in the ship at the end ofthe first week of May. There had been problems in getting Type 286m to properly perform; all the spare valves had been used and as a consequence, when the ship sailed from Scapa Flow to patrol the Denmark Strait, this set had to be ‘nursed’, meaning that it had to be shut down periodically.

In addition to being nursed, the range on a large ship was only about 14,000 yards, compared to the 26,000 yards of Type 284, but its greatest deficiency was the fixed aerial array that was fitted at the masthead. In order to track a target the ship itself had to be steered in the direction of same, so that when Bismarck made turns, especially toward the ship, contact would of course be lost when the tracking vessel had to turn away. Also, its poor resolution made it unsuitable for gunnery purposes.

© *Alan Raven 2019, ‘British Cruiser Warfare: The Lessons of the Early War 1939–1941’. Reproduced courtesy of Naval Institute Press and Pen & Sword Publishers Ltd.