I Sank The Bismarck Read online

  However, both our deliveries went off without any loss. No sooner had we got these out of the way than it was out into the Mediterranean again to escort another convoy of fast merchant ships. The aim this time was not just the resupply of Malta, but also to make deliveries to Egypt, where the Eighth Army was getting a battering from the German forces that had taken over from the Italian army in North Africa.

  The convoy was going to deliver 307 tanks to the army in Alexandria, as well as forty-three Hurricane fighter aircraft, in crates, to be assembled by the RAF in Egypt. HMS Breconshire, an auxiliary Royal Navy supply ship, would transport fuel and munitions to Malta, and the battleship HMS Queen Elizabeth, along with two cruisers, would also travel the length of the Mediterranean to reinforce Cunningham's fleet in the eastern Mediterranean.

  By now all the Skuas that we had carried had been replaced by Fulmar fighters and there were two squadrons of these planes on board, numbers 803 and 807, but the Fulmars were not the most reliable of aircraft and only twelve in total were serviceable and fit to fly. The Mediterranean had got tougher in the few months I had been on the Ark. Not only had we lost Illustrious to the Luftwaffe, but our troops were on the retreat from Greece and the navy was suffering severe casualties. German dive-bombers attacked two destroyers, Wryneck and Diamond, as they evacuated British soldiers from Greece. Both of them were sunk and most of the crew and soldiers were killed.

  We sailed on into the Mediterranean, carrying out our regular anti-submarine patrols, with a couple of Fulmars keeping a combat air patrol above us. On 8 May we were spotted by an Italian reconnaissance plane. We were very hard to miss, with Queen Elizabeth, our normal companions Renown and Sheffield, two other cruisers and eight destroyers, and in the midst of us the five mechanized transport ships. We must have left behind a wake of massive proportions. The cargo ships were capable of doing 14 knots, which was fast for civilian vessels, but they were still far slower than we would have liked. The Italian reconnaissance plane avoided being shot down, but even if it had been the damage was done. At this stage, however, three days into the voyage, we were close to the Italian bases in Sicily and Sardinia, so we were closed up ready to go to action stations very quickly.

  When I wasn't flying, like most of the Swordfish crews I had been assigned an action station in the Ark. Mine was manning a quadruple 0.5in machine gun on a platform by the flight deck. The gun had shoulder rests with a large round sighting ring mounted above it. There were four of these platforms around the Ark, two at the bow and two at the stern, with two quadruple mountings on each. The four machine guns were mounted vertically above each other and were intended for short-range anti-aircraft fire. If the aircraft were as close as this we had probably already been hit, but this didn't stop me being pleased with my job, because it was marvellous to feel that I would be able to fire back with something when we were under attack.

  And that is exactly what happened. Early in the afternoon we were attacked by a group of Italian bombers. They were flying low over the water, however, and I realized that they were not the normal high-altitude bombers, but that they were carrying torpedoes and were heading right for us. They were SM.79s, three-engined bombers that had been modified to carry two torpedoes. A squadron of these planes had been flying out of North Africa and had had some success against merchant ships. They had also managed to hit the cruisers HMS Liverpool and Glasgow, causing severe damage to both of them. Now we were the target!

  I started pouring bullets at them, and the rest of the guns on the other ships also started firing. An 0.5in-calibre machine gun is a big gun – bigger than the machine guns mounted in the wings of fighters like Hurricanes and Spitfires. Firing four of these at a time was like holding the combined firepower of a fighter. I could feel the vibration through the deck plates and in the air itself, the concussion shaking my body and my internal organs. I was overwhelmed with the smell of cordite and the noise was indescribable. However, despite this, I was still able to notice how hard it was to fire accurately on the low-flying planes. Some of the main anti-aircraft guns could not be depressed low enough anyway, but even for those that could be, like my machine guns, it was harder to allow for sufficient deflection if they were really skimming the waves. With the aircraft below the horizon, silhouetted against the sea rather than the sky, it was not so easy to draw a bead on them.

  The bombers dropped their torpedoes probably too far away to hit us, but they continued their low-level flight after they had dropped and they seemed to be heading straight for us. They were too big too turn away quickly like we did in the Swordfish; they had no choice but to bore on through the escorts and climb out above us. It seemed that one would go directly over my head. One of them had crashed before it dropped its torpedoes, hit by shells from the big-calibre guns on the destroyers, but two others dropped their 'kippers' before they also were hit, one smashing into the sea close by. For some strange reason there was a pause in the fighting and, as the bomber seemed to rear up, then flip over and hit the sea with an enormous impact, I could hear the strange noise of the wings and fuselage disintegrating, bits of wreckage breaking off and hurtling into the sky. At the same time a great cheer went up from everyone on the flight deck and in the gun positions. Then the Ark was twisting and turning to comb the tracks of the torpedoes that had been dropped. There were four torpedoes in the water altogether and two passed down the port side of the Ark – I could see the tracks in the water – while another two went past on the starboard. I waited tensely for the sound of an underwater explosion, but none came.

  The noise of these engagements was beyond belief. My position was along from one of the 4.5in gun turrets and when they were firing I was completely deafened, my head ringing for hours afterwards. I wore a tin helmet, with an anti-flash hood, which at first I thought unnecessary, but as soon as the guns started firing there was a rain of pieces of shrapnel dropping out of the skies as the shells exploded. At the same time a running commentary on the battle was being broadcast over the ship's tannoy by the chaplain, of all people. Both the captains I served under in the Ark, Holland and Maund, believed it was good for morale to let everyone – in particular the men in the hangars and the engine spaces below decks – know what was happening, especially if there was action between the Fulmars and enemy aircraft some miles away. In a strange way it was comforting to feel part of what was going on and to be told that our fighters were getting stuck in.

  The torpedo bombers had been accompanied by a squadron of CR.42 fighters, and their formation had been spotted by Sheffield's radar ten minutes before they were seen from the Ark. The two Fulmars that were already in the air, flown by Lt Commander Rupert Tillard, CO of 808, and Lieutenant Hay, saw the fighters climbing to attack them. They were outnumbered three to one, but both pilots dived to make a head-on attack on the fighters, passing directly through their formation. The Fulmar flown by Lt Commander Tillard carried Mark Somerville, Admiral Somerville's nephew, as observer. They were the crew who had flown back to the Ark with news of a sighting of Scharnhorst in March. They went into the attack in a steep dive and were last seen trying to level out at 500 feet.

  In the second Fulmar, Lieutenant Hay started to follow them down, but he was attacked in the dive by two CR.42 fighters and to evade them he turned into clouds, then dived down towards the fleet, where he was fired on by the destroyers in the anti-submarine screen. Fortunately, they scored no hits. A section of three Fulmars had been ranged on the flight deck when the enemy formation was identified and they had taken off. A group of six CR.42 fighters flew in to attack them, so they quickly became mixed up in a dogfight.

  A confusing mêlée ensued, and Lieutenant Taylour shot the wing-tip off one of the Italian fighters, but before he could get in another burst he was himself shot up by an attacker closing in behind him. His plane was hit and his observer, Petty Officer Howard, was badly wounded by machine-gun fire.

  The two other Fulmars, flown by Petty Officer Dubber and Lieutenant Guthrie, were both
badly damaged in the dogfight, but Guthrie, after pulling out of a steep spin at a very low altitude, found one of the Italian torpedo bombers in his sights and attacked it twice before his guns failed.

  The Fulmar flown by Lt Commander Tillard had disappeared and was never seen again. It had no doubt crashed into the sea, but none of the escort ships saw it go in; nor were they in a position to try to save the crew even if they had. The other four of the five Fulmars in the air when the torpedo bombers and CR.42 fighters struck were now all circling the carrier, waiting to land; all had been badly shot up and one man was wounded.

  There was a lot of activity on the flight deck as the firefighting teams got ready, and there was a call for hands to the flight deck in case any of the planes crashed and needed manhandling over the side, but they all managed to land on. It was 1440: the torpedo attack and the battle in the air had lasted just one hour. The guns were now silent and the magazines of the rapid-firing cannon were restocked, ready for the next attack. The excitement and the adrenalin rush of action, the chaotic noise of every gun in the fleet hammering away, were gone, to be replaced by quiet. We were still at action stations, and there was a quick delivery of hot tea and sandwiches. We all knew that there would be another attack; it was just a question of when. I found this the worst sort of waiting. I would rather be firing away and not thinking about what was going to happen.

  I knew what was happening down below. The warning bells on the lifts were ringing as planes were brought down from the flight deck; the fireproof curtains were raised; and the fitters and armourers were frantically trying to repair the Fulmars that had just returned in a damaged condition, I didn't know how bad. The already pathetically inadequate number of fighters on the Ark had just been reduced from twelve to seven; an observer was in the sickbay being operated on; and the CO of 808 Squadron, who had been in the Ark since November, just one month longer than me, and had several kills to his credit, was dead, as was his observer, Lieutenant Mark Somerville.

  Another attack could occur at any minute and we were trying to keep four Fulmars in the air as a permanent combat air patrol. Aircraft landed and refuelled every hour to make sure that they would always have enough endurance to take on enemy aircraft. We also had to keep some Swordfish in the air for anti-submarine patrols, because we were approaching the area where submarines would lie in wait. One of the biggest handicaps we faced was that our route to Malta was inevitably predictable.

  The next attack was not long in coming. Sheffield's radar spotted a reconnaissance aircraft circling the fleet and two of the Fulmars in the combat air patrol were directed by radio to intercept and shoot it down. At the same time the patrol spotted an Italian SM.79 bomber. They all converged on it, shooting enough bullets into it to make it break up in the air. They then continued after the reconnaissance aircraft, but it escaped. When the Fulmars were returning to the fleet, one of them started to develop engine trouble. White smoke was pouring out from the cowling and the pilot decided he had no choice but to ditch in the sea, where the plane sank, though this time the crew were picked up by a vigilant destroyer.

  Another half-hour went by before Sheffield's radar plotter reported several formations of aircraft approaching from various points of the compass; two of them, we were told, appeared to be large ones. We quickly ranged the rest of our Fulmars and they were flown off, with instructions to climb to 8,000 feet and circle at 5 miles' distance. All the pilots had flown at least once that day and many of the Fulmars had already been damaged and repaired. Three Fulmars from 808 Squadron were sent to intercept the approaching enemy formations, but to emphasize how fragile some of them were, one was forced to return to the Ark when the pilot couldn't retract his undercarriage.

  The other two Fulmars, flown by Lieutenants Kindersley and Hay, in the air for the second time that day, continued into the attack. Hay shot at a CR.42 from behind, causing it to turn away, and then took on three SM.79 bombers by flying directly at them in a head-on attack, firing his guns. They were forced to break up their bombing run and decided to jettison their bombs and seek shelter in cloud.

  Meanwhile, Lieutenant Kindersley was manoeuvring to attack a group of bombers when he was ambushed by four CR.42 fighters. He decided to fly into the fleet's anti-aircraft barrage, where the enemy fighters refused to follow him. After this attack was broken up, the two Fulmars were then directed by the air control officer on the Ark to intercept another aircraft that had appeared on Sheffield's radar. This was another SM.79 bomber and Lieutenant Hay shot it down in flames.

  The third Fulmar in the air was flown by Petty Officer Johnson, who avoided three Italian fighters attempting to fire on him from the rear and then saw an SM.79 bomber which he pursued and eventually caught, firing all his remaining ammunition into it. By then he was 30 miles from the fleet and had to be directed home, not landing until almost 1700.

  While Lieutenant Hay and Petty Officer Johnson were making their attacks, three SM.79s had penetrated the antiaircraft barrages and were heading for us, coming out of the sun, which was now low in the west, clearly hoping to drop their bombs down the centre line of the ship – the ideal approach for an air attack. This was the first time I had seen us targeted in this way, and I have to say it was alarming. All the guns opened up, including mine, although the bombers were at a height at which they were out of my range. The 4.5in anti-aircraft guns started blasting and the pom-poms were also hammering away, attempting to smash the aircraft out of the sky. One bomber did not survive the bullets and the high explosive that we were hurtling up into the sky; it turned away and jettisoned its bombs in a desperate hope to gain some height, but crashed into the sea. The other two turned to follow us.

  It was new to me, but the Ark's crew had had to deal with plenty of these attacks before. As the line of bombers approached, the captain threw the Ark into a very tight turn to port, with the ship vibrating at top speed and what seemed to be an enormous amount of heel. The two SM.79s released their bombs; I could see them in the air as they fell, exploding close to the bows on the starboard side with a sharp crack and an enormous gout of foam and seawater. Close, but not close enough, thank God.

  Just before this attack, four more aircraft from 807 Squadron had taken to the air, flown by Lt Commander Douglas, Petty Officer Leggett, Lieutenant Gardner and Lieutenant Firth. As they climbed to reach another enemy formation, Gardner heard a sudden bang and his port wing dipped: he realized that the panel covering the four machine guns in his wing had been ripped off in the slipstream. He requested permission to land on the Ark again, but then realized that we were firing at the group of bombers approaching the ship. Clearly this was not the time to try to land on the carrier, so he climbed and attacked one of the planes in the formation, despite the poor air-flow over his wing, getting in several bursts before he lost his target in cloud. When Gardner gave up the chase and left the cloud he was fired at by the escort ships, so he too sought the shelter of the clouds and waited for fire to stop before landing on the carrier for his wing panels to be replaced.

  The other three pilots also attacked the group of Italian bombers, firing at and chasing them for some distance, constantly hampered in their pursuit by the low speed of their Fulmars. They too eventually lost their prey in the clouds. They continued to maintain a patrol, occasionally being fired on by their own ships.

  Throughout the day we had been getting closer to Sicily, and at 1918 the radar operators in Sheffield picked up echoes that they interpreted as large formations of aircraft approaching.

  Was this the enemy we had yet to meet? Throughout the day, at the back of my mind had been the knowledge that the Luftwaffe had a large number of planes in Sicily. So far we had had to deal only with Italian aircraft, but surely the Luftwaffe was not going to stay out of it? Illustrious had been attacked by thirty-three Stukas, and we had just six or seven fighters left. Now we were facing another massive attack – this time it could easily be the Luftwaffe assembling over its airfields in Sicily.


  I won't pretend that I was not apprehensive at that time. You didn't have to be in the squadron office to know what the situation was: we could all see the movements on the flight deck and knew which planes were taking off, which were returning and in what state. We did not have a great deal left to throw at the enemy, whether they were Germans or Italians.

  The pilots still in the air, on that evening of 8 May, were joined by four others, all of whom had already seen combat earlier in the day. They took off from the flight deck, their Merlin engines hauling the heavy aircraft into the air. With the Ark going at 20 knots they could be airborne about halfway down the flight deck, less if the headwind was strong. Lieutenant Richard Gardner's Fulmar had been repaired and he was taking off for his fourth fighter patrol. Petty Officer Dubber, Lieutenant Taylour and Sub-Lieutenant Walker followed him. There were now seven fighters in the air, and these pilots, with their observers in the rear cockpit, were all that now stood between Force H and the German dive-bombers approaching – by this time that was what we believed them to be.

  Our Fulmars went into the fight extremely aggressively, despite the overwhelming numbers of enemy aircraft that confronted them. The German aircraft had split up into different sections and the fighter direction officer in the Ark thought that they were preparing to make a concerted attack from three different directions, so that the Ark would always be presenting a perfect target to at least one section of dive-bombers, the preferred approach being along the centre line of the target ship, giving the pilot the maximum length of target.