Raiders (23 page)

That both these engineering feats were completed within ten
days was a testament to the hard work and skill of the men of the Devonport dockyard.
All her compartments below deck were stripped out, her three 4-inch guns, torpedoes, depth charges and forward gun were removed and replaced with a light, quick-firing 12-pounder and eight 20-mm Oerlikon AA guns.
Anticipating heavy fire from the German coastal guns, the bridge and wheelhouse were plated with extra armour.
Two further rows of armour were installed along the sides of the ship to protect the Commandos lying on the open deck during the final approach.
Her rear two funnels were removed and the forward two were reduced and repositioned at an angle to resemble those of a German destroyer.
The huge explosive charge, secured in a concrete block, was placed in a hidden compartment between the bridge and the bow, where it was likely to cause the greatest amount of damage to the dock.
Ryder was delighted when the elderly captain of the
Campbeltown
was replaced by Lt Cdr Sam Beattie, an old friend who had joined the Navy in the same year.
Beattie had plenty of experience on destroyers and Ryder wrote later: ‘I could wish for no one better.’

Combined Operations’ original plan of attack envisaged the use of two lightened destroyers, one to ram the Normandie dock and the other to act as an escort and troop carrier.
But if securing one old destroyer had proved hard enough, acquiring two was impossible.
Faced with the problem of transporting over 100 Commandos laden with weapons and demolition equipment to and from the target, the planners found there was only one plausible alternative and that was to deploy a flotilla of ‘little
ships’.
This was to be made up of sixteen Fairmile ‘B’ motor launches (MLs), a gun boat and a motor torpedo boat.
Twelve of the MLs were to transport small squads of Commandos and the four others were each mounted with two torpedo tubes to boost the force’s firepower.
It promised to be a cramped voyage for those on board.
In normal circumstances, the MLs had a crew of sixteen, but that number was increased for the raid.

The sixty-five-ton vessels, designed for escort, patrol and anti-submarine roles, could reach a maximum speed of twenty knots, but their speed would be of little help when they came within range of St Nazaire’s coastal defences.
Made from plywood, they were completely ill-suited to the task of assaulting one of the most heavily defended ports in the world.
The thin sheet of armour around the small bridge was small comfort for the crew within.
The Commandos on the deck outside were even more vulnerable – even a rifle bullet could breach the ship’s timber sides.
In order to extend their range for the 850-mile return voyage, each of the vessels was fitted with an additional fuel tank, on the deck, carrying 500 gallons of highly combustible petrol.
It would take just one accurate or lucky shot from the shore to turn one of the mini-troop carriers into a floating inferno.
Given the extreme frailty of the motor launches, the element of surprise during the approach to the target was imperative.
The closer they advanced to the target, the greater their chances of success.

The guns under which it was necessary for the flotilla to pass were truly formidable, even for far more heavily armed and
armoured ships than the little wooden motor launches.
At the entrance to the estuary, the Germans had made major improvements to the existing French installations.
In all, St Nazaire was protected by over 70 guns, ranging in calibre from 75 mm (of which there were 28 pieces) to 150 mm and 170 mm, and to the massive 240-mm railway guns a few miles to the north at La Baule, positioned to engage enemy ships long before they reached the estuary.
In addition to the heavier artillery, there were over forty 20-mm to 40-mm calibre guns that doubled as anti-aircraft and coastal defence weapons.
If an attacking force succeeded in negotiating these forbidding layers of defence, a further bulwark awaited them in and around the town itself where over 5,000 German troops, military and naval, were stationed.

In mid-March, all the elements of the raiding force began to assemble at Falmouth on Cornwall’s south coast.
The motor launches that would carry most of them were already in harbour when the troops of 2 Commando arrived from their training base on the west coast of Scotland aboard the troopship
Princess Josephine Charlotte
.
The demolition groups, having completed their intensive rehearsals on the docks of Southampton and Cardiff, slipped into the town at the same time.
In order to maintain a veil of secrecy over the operation, all the Commandos were ordered to remain out of sight below deck.
Spies were known to operate in every naval port in the world during the war.
Loose talk and slack security could compromise the operation.
A cover story was invented to mislead the gossipers and
safeguard CHARIOT from intelligence breaches.
Word was put about that the flotilla was being organised into ‘Tenth Anti-Submarine Striking Force’ for a sweep of U-boats out in the Bay of Biscay.

In order to familiarise the troops with conditions at sea, the Commandos were embarked in the motor launches and other small ships and taken around the Scilly Isles, forty miles off Land’s End.
They set off in rough weather that soon developed into a strong gale.
By the time their Navy hosts decided to seek shelter in the bays of the Scillies, virtually every one of the 250 soldiers had been sick.
Back in Falmouth, two further weeks of training exercises focused on approaching the target, and on disembarking and reboarding in the dark.
On 18 March, Newman summoned his thirty-nine officers and divulged the nature of the mission.
The following day, one by one, the officers revealed the plan to the men they would be commanding on the night.
Only the name of the port was withheld, but several immediately guessed its identity.
Throughout the army contingent, the reaction was one of excited astonishment mixed with trepidation.
Most of the young men had never seen combat, but they were savvy enough to understand the scale of the challenge and the grave risks it involved.
The Commandos were a volunteer organisation and it was in that spirit that Newman offered the opportunity for his men to pull out and, without recrimination or dishonour, return to their regular units.
No one took him up on his offer.

A detailed model of the dockyard was displayed in the briefing room aboard the troopship and, one after another, each of the
Commando subgroups filed in to have their specific tasks spelt out.
Once the raid was underway, Newman’s military HQ was to be set up at the Old Entrance to the harbour where Group Two was to have disembarked.
Communications on the night were to be carried out by radio and by runners.
The original plan to take six bicycles was considered impractical and was dropped.
All tasks were to be completed within two hours.
The signal to withdraw was to be made first with green and then red flares.
In an emergency, if the operation had to be aborted, all flares would be fired at once and the crews of every ML would sound their klaxons.
The operational orders issued to Newman and Ryder stipulated a number of security precautions.
All badges and distinguishing signs were to be removed (except badges of rank) and no papers or letters disclosing the identity of the unit or formation were to be taken ashore.
Recognition between the men on the ground was to be made by the use of surnames plus a password and countersign.

Useful French and German phrases were learned by all ranks.
In French, the expressions were to be forceful and helpful:
‘Obey and you’ll be OK .
.
.
Disobey and you’ll be killed .
.
.
Where are the Germans?
.
.
.
Get out!
.
.
.
Shut up!’
In German, the phrases were designed to intimidate and mislead.
They included:
‘Scum .
.
.
Quickly for God’s sake .
.
.
You’re surrounded .
.
.
We’re two battalions .
.
.
It’s a whole army .
.
.
Hands up!’

The Commandos’ uniform included special-issue boots fitted with rubber soles for silent movement (which soon came to be known as ‘commando boots’).
The orders regarding uniform and
appearance continue: ‘oldest battle dress, roll-neck sweaters, first field dressing, knives (fighting), Mae Wests, 2 identity discs around neck, gaiters, steel helmets, no respirators, faces and hands clean, scrubbed skeleton order [
= clean faces & hands, bare minimum kit
], full water bottle slung, no entrenching tool.’
Special carrying equipment was also issued to those armed with grenades, Tommy guns and mortars.
The conclusion of the Operational Order, signed off by Admiral of the Fleet Forbes, reads: ‘In an operation of this nature, difficulties may arise which have not been foreseen.
I rely on all officers and men to overcome these by the display of initiative and the aggressive spirit.’

On
the night of 21/22 March a full-scale dress rehearsal was carried out at Plymouth and Devonport under the ruse of testing the dockyards’ defences.
It quickly turned into a fiasco that depressed the planners and participants in equal measure (although it brought some cheer to those tasked with the defence of one of Britain’s most important naval bases).
The approaching raiders were immediately picked up by the port’s defences after the crews of the ships had been blinded by the searchlights.
Had the exercise been for real, the entire party would have been blown out of the water long before they reached the target.

On 25 March, seventy-two hours before the force was scheduled to depart, a distinctly Germanic-looking
Campbeltown
caused a stir when she slid into Falmouth Harbour.
Just 22 days after the Chiefs of Staff had given the operation the go-ahead, 21 ships, one submarine, and 611 sailors and highly trained soldiers were ready for action.
The operation was scheduled for the night of 28/29 March when the tides in the Loire were at their highest, but eager to make the most of the favourable weather, Commander Ryder brought the timetable forward by twenty-four hours.
On the afternoon of 26 March, escorted by the destroyers HMS
Atherstone
and HMS
Tynedale
and a lone Hurricane fighter, the flotilla slipped out of the Cornish harbour at 1400 and headed towards the Bay of Biscay.
A gentle swell rolled beneath the ships and a mellow, hazy sunshine filled the skies above, but the calmness of the scene did not fool anyone aboard.
The Operation Order insisted on military personnel staying out of sight.
If anyone was to come above they had to do so in a naval duffle coat or oilskins.
‘It is essential that reconnaissance enemy aircraft should NOT learn the presence of Military on board,’ the order reads.
For most of the passage, the Commandos remained below deck in fairly cramped conditions, relieving the tension with nervous banter and jokes.

The 420-mile voyage to St Nazaire had been plotted so as to maintain the impression that the flotilla was on a U-boat sweep.
The course that had been set took them well past the Brittany peninsula into the Bay of Biscay before they turned sharply and steamed for the French coast under the cover of darkness.
As soon as it had left the relative safety of home waters, the flotilla went into anti-submarine formation.
If an enemy ship or reconnaissance aircraft did spot them, it would have appeared that the British convoy was on a routine passage to Gibraltar.
In this way, it was only in the final few hours that the raiding force’s true intentions might be suspected.

As darkness began to fall, the last of the escorting Hurricanes swept low over the ships and headed back to England.
The Ensign of the Third Reich was hoisted aboard so as to try and fool any Vichy fishing vessels they might encounter.
The night passed without incident and, to the dismay of Ryder and his crews, daybreak ushered in a beautifully clear day with brilliant visibility.
It was shortly after 0700 and the force had just turned east for France when the alarm was raised.
Tynedale
spotted a U-boat, its periscope up, seven miles to the northeast.
Ryder understood the critical importance of the moment: he must either destroy the enemy boat or force her to dive before she radioed in the sighting of the flotilla.

Tynedale
was immediately ordered to go after her.
Casting off the HQ motor gun boat (MGB) she was towing, the destroyer, flying the German Ensign, sped towards the sub at a maximum speed of twenty-seven knots.
The U-boat fired off a pyrotechnic rocket that burst into five stars as a recognition signal.
The
Tynedale
replied with five long flashes of her Aldis lamp.
At 4,000 yards,
Tynedale
ran up her White Ensign and opened fire.
If she had closed any further, it would not have been possible to depress her guns low enough to hit the target.
Giant plumes of water burst around the U-boat but the near-misses were not near enough to cause any damage.
The U-boat (U-593), damaged from an earlier confrontation with the British, had tried but failed to launch a torpedo at the
Tynedale
.
She had no option but to crashdive and wait for the inevitable pounding beneath the surface.
Minutes later, the German crew felt the mighty
percussion of depth charges.
Such was the force of the explosions that U-593 was forced to the surface, but she quickly dived again, strafed by
Tynedale
’s short-range guns from close range.
HMS
Atherstone
was now at the scene and the two destroyers swept the area using ASDIC underwater detection device.
But dropping to about 500 feet below the surface and reducing her speed to a barely perceptible one knot, the U-boat evaded her hunters.
After two hours the destroyers broke off the search and rejoined the flotilla.
Ryder’s main fear was that the U-boat had succeeded in reporting the British presence before diving.
There was nothing for it but to continue as planned.
All would be revealed in the coming hours.
If the Germans ashore had been alerted, Operation CHARIOT was badly compromised.