The "Hood" and the "Bismarck": The Hunting of the "Bismarck"

by CAPTAIN RUSSELL GRENFELL, R.N.

8

THEBismarck had administered a swift defeat to the Hood’s squadron and had continued on her southwesterly way apparently unscathed. She was now well in advance of the British Commander-in-Chief’s squadron. To the heads of the Naval Staff, the loss of so famous a ship as the Hood was a heavy blow. It was essential that the Bismarck be overtaken and destroyed.

On May 21, before the Hood’s squadron had left Scapa, the Victorious had been transferred to Sir John Tovey’s command and the Repulse had been ordered north from the Clyde to join his flag.

There were at this time ten convoys at sea in the Atlantic, some of which had battleship or cruiser escort, while others had only a screen of lighter vessels, destroyers, frigates, corvettes, or sloops. Of all these various escorting ships, only the battleships, cruisers, and fleet destroyers could be regarded as having any battle value against the Bismarck. These classes could, however, be considered as a potential reserve to be brought in against her, provided she came within reach of them and provided the risk of removing them from their convoys was acceptable.

In addition to this reserve of warships actually at sea, there were forces in harbor which might also play a useful role, either for direct combat purposes or as “replace" ships for convoy escorts summoned away from convoy duty. The most important was Vice-Admiral Sir James Somerville’s Force H at Gibraltar, consisting of the battle cruiser Renown (sister ship to the Repulse), the aircraft carrier Ark Royal, the cruiser Sheffield, and six destroyers. Force H’s normal duty was to seal the western exit of the Mediterranean against the Italian Fleet, and hitherto all its activities had been inside the Mediterranean, But with its seagoing mobility, the Force was equally available at a moment’s notice for operations in the Atlantic, and it was decided to bring the Force in against the Bismarck herself.

The cruiser London, which was escorting a convoy from Gibraltar to the Ended Kingdom, and the cruiser Edinburgh, which was near the Azores, were ordered to proceed as necessary for shadowing the Bismarck.

Hundreds of miles to the northwest, the battleship Ramillies, with Convoy HX127 in mid-Atlantic, was ordered away from her convoy to close and intercept the enemy from the westward. As was usual when with a convoy, the Ramillies had been steaming at 8 knots. Captain Read rang down for 18 knots, but his 27-year-old ship took some little time to work up to this speed and in the process unavoidably emitted volumes of black funnel smoke. Captain Read felt very awkward about this, since he had made a number of reproving signals during the previous days to various merchant ships of the convoy for doing the same thing, and he felt that the Masters must now be enjoying themselves. In half an hour he had left the convoy behind and was steering northwest to get to the westward of the Bismarck.

Copyright 1948, by Russell Grenfell.

Back on the eastern side of the ocean, about 500 miles from the Irish coast, the battleship Rodney, with the destroyers Somali, Mashona, Tartar, and Eskimo, was escorting the Britannic en route to the United States. They had left the Clyde at 1 p.m. on May 22, the Rodney being due to refit at Boston on arrival in America. She had not been properly refitted for over two years, and her machinery was in a most precarious condition. One engine room had broken down twice during the previous month, leaving only one propeller on which to return to harbor, and the boilers were in a similarly shaky state. She was to show what an invalid ship could do in an emergency.

Shortly before noon on the 24th, a signal came through from the Admiralty for the Rodney to leave one destroyer with the Britannic and, with the others, to steer an intercepting course for the Bismarck. As the Rodney was already steering it, she went on as before, increasing speed and taking the Somali, Tartar, and Mashona with her.

Thus within six hours of the Hood’s destruction two additional battleships, one battle cruiser, one aircraft carrier, three cruisers, and nine destroyers had joined directly in the chase.

9

THE Norfolk, the British cruiser which had been following the Bismarck and the Prinz Eugen ever since their entrance into the Atlanlic, and her sister ship the Suffolk had automatically gone on shadowing after the dawn battle. The Suffolk was again on the starboard quarler, this time assisted by the oily wake the Bismarck was leaving behind her: while the Norfolk was once more out on the port quarter, with the Prince of Wales on her quarter again. The two cruisers continued sending out signals of the enemy’s position, course, and speed about every twenty minutes during the periods when they were severally in contact.

For some hours, the weather was clear all round the horizon and the task of shadowing was I herefore comparatively simple. The cruisers kept the enemy ships in sight at fifteen to eighteen miles distance and were able to conform to their movements without much difficulty, even though the Germans kept making large alterations of course to one side or the other in the evident endeavor to shake off their trackers.

About 11 A.M., however, banks of mist were sighted ahead, and soon the shadowers were contending with the same treacherous and uncertain weather conditions that they had experienced on the previous night, the visibility again varying between seventeen or eighteen miles and two or three. Both cruisers closed in as much as they dared, but about noon they lost sight of the enemy in mist and drizzle.

Three hundred miles to the eastward, the Commander-in-Chief on the King George I was pushing on after the enemy at his squadron’s best speed. Sir John Tovey was steering a mean course chosen with a view to competing with any of the three possible enemy courses of action: namely, raiding operations based either on Greenland or somewhere in the south, passage on to an Atlantic or Mediterranean dockyard, or a return to Germany.

The Norfolk sighted the enemy again for a short time at 2.35 P.M., and again at 3.15 P.M. when the visibility increased. The Suffolk began to pick up the Norfolk’s signals based on visual sightingsand by their aid was again in radar touch and was resuming her reports by 4.10.

Before 5 P.M., more mist had appeared and the Norfolk, in turn, lost touch with the enemy. But by this time the Suffolk had him firmly held by radar and so was able to keep her blinded colleague informed of the enemy’s movements. Thus did science and human eyesight supplement and reinforce each other in keeping continuous track of the escaping ship.

Air contact was maintained until 4.40 P.M. when the Catalina G/210 which was then shadowing the Bismarck developed engine trouble and had to return to its base. No more air contacts were made during the day.

Admiral Tovey was worried about the possibility of an attempt by the Bismarck to escape from observation by the use of high speed during the night. If she put on a sudden spurt, she might give her shadowers the slip before they realized what was happening.

Sir John knew about the oily wake she was leaving behind her, but he was not inclined to attach overmuch importance to it. Oil spreads out quickly on the sea surface and a very small leak can make a broad oil track. It was necessary to credit ihe Bismarck with having still her normal full speed available on demand, and thus with being capable of an increase of 7 or 8 knots whenever she chose. Sir John had therefore to find means of slowing the Bismarck up before darkness set in. There was only one way of doing this at present — an attack by the Victorious aircraft. If they could only get some torpedoes into her and so inflict underwater damage, they might reduce her speed sufficiently to scotch any inconvenient spurts during the night.

Sir John signaled that the Victorious, escorted by the 2nd Cruiser Squadron under Vice-Admiral A. T. B. Curteis, was to close the Bismarck and fly off to the attack when within 100 miles.

With no risk from hostile air attack, the Victorious aircraft could be ranged in plenty of time and there was ample opportunity for discussion with the Squadron Commander and the pilots. The weather was getting worse, and Captain Bovell had grave doubts whether any of the pilots, untrained as many of them were, would be able to land on after the attack. He hoped, however, that they would at least be able to save themselves, even though they crashed their aircraft. He noted with satisfaction that the squadron leader, Lieutenant-Commander Esmonde, was full of confidence that all would go well, and under his leadership the whole squadron was so keen and enthusiastic that it was difficult to think they would not succeed.

10

EVER since the onset of misty conditions, Captain Ellis of the Suffolk had been expecting that the Bismarck might endeavor to round on one or other of the shadowers under cover of low visibility and trap them at close range. About 6.30 P.M. the enemy, being some 26,000 yards ahead of the Suffolk, disappeared into a fog bank. Captain Ellis had been resting his radar during a clear patch, but when the enemy ships were lost to sight he brought it again into action. It was just as well that he did, for the radar began to report the range as quickly decreasing.

When it was down 1o 22,000 yards, Captain Ellis, on the alert against an ambush, put his wheel over for a turn to port and increased to full speed. As the Suffolk swung round under helm, the Bismarck appeared out of the mist ahead at a range of 20,000 yards and opened fire with all her guns. Captain Ellis immediately ordered funnel smoke to be made, but before the ship had got under cover of this screen, the enemy had fired nine salvos and some more came down in the smoke. By great good fortune, the enemy’s initial salvos were a long way out — at least 1000 yards short and out for line — and by the time they were getting dangerously close, the Suffolk’s pall of smoke was streaming out and she was hidden by it.

This brief action took both ships over towards the Norfolk and Prince of Wales. The latter opened fire in support of the Suffolk as the battle came her way. Her range from the enemy was, however, very long — about 30,000 yards— and though she fired a number of salvos, it is doubtful that her shooting was effective. The Bismarck in any case was clearly in no mood for an action with a heavy ship. She hauled off and made away to the westward at high speed.¹

The Suffolk herself had naturally opened fire, and as she turned away to open the range from the Bismarck, her guns came round more and more onto an after bearing, until the foremost turrets at high elevation had their muzzles pointing unpleasantly close to the bridge. As one of their salvos went off, there was a crash of glass and all the bridge windows were blown in. Since there were no wind baffles or other weather protection once the windows had gone, the Captain and others on the bridge soon began to feel the effects of exposure to the bitter wind.

The enemy’s westward retirement had adversely affected the Victorious’s approach problem by lengthening the distance she would have to go. Instead of reaching the 100-mile circle from the Bismarck at about 9 P.M. as previously expected, she was still 120 miles away an hour later. Since the rate of closing on the Bismarck was very slow and the weather was still deteriorating, Captain Bovell decided he could wait no longer for starting the flight.

There were still some hours of daylight, as sunset was not till fifty minutes past midnight. The ships were keeping double British summer time, which meant that their clocks showed 10 P.M. when it was really 8 P.M. at Greenwich. And they had also now reached a point a long way to the west of Greenwich, more than two hours behind Greenwich by the sun. The ships’ clocks were therefore more than four hours ahead of the sun.

The wind was blowing fresh from the northwest and increasing, and there were heavy rain squalls, with much low cloud. The visibility was, however, good near the surface, except during rain squalls. The scene from the Victorious’s spray-swept flight deck was an uninviting one of breaking seas and driving rain clouds. As he saw his nine aircraft all get safely off, Captain Bovell reflected that it would be a good deal harder to get them back.

The attack was pressed home with great gallantry. All nine machines dropped their torpedoes. As the machines roared away after making their attack, they were able to see at least one torpedo take effect. Shortly afterwards, those on board the Victorious, who had endured a seemingly interminable wait since the aircraft had taken off, were overjoyed to receive a signal that the attack had been carried out and that one hit was claimed.

The aircraft were now on their way back to the Victorious, and Captain Bovell was full of apprehension about their safe return. The majority of the pilots had not landed on a ship’s deck before they had flown onto the Victorious four days before. The two or three practice landings they had been able to do before leaving for this operation had all been in daylight.

It was now rapidly becoming dark. And to make matters even worse, the Victorious’s homing beacon was discovered to have gone out of action, and so the returning aircraft could not be guided back to the carrier by this means. In his anxiety, Captain Bovell waited till the aircraft should have been nearing the ship, and then switched on all his searchlights and flashed them round the heavens. He was promptly ordered by the Vice-Admiral of the escorting cruisers, fearful of attracting enemy submarines, to switch them off. Captain Bovell, who was much more concerned to get his aircraft back, delayed switching off until the receipt of a second signal, when he felt obliged to obey. But he then started a long signal to the Vice-Admiral with a very bright signaling searchlight, asking permission to switch on again. Before this signal was completed, however, he heard the welcome sound of aircraft in the distance.

By now it was pitch-dark, raining heavily, and there was considerable motion on the ship. As he turned into the wind for the landing on, Captain Bovell frankly had little hope that any of the aircraft would get onto the deck in safety. There was, however, not a single crash, every aircraft landing on in some sort of fashion. Lieutenant-Commander Esmonde came up to the bridge to report. He thanked the Captain for the searchlights, but said that the first lights the aircraft had actually seen were the red signaling lamps of the cruisers. Ironically enough, these lamps had been specially designed to reduce the distance at which they would be visible.

Shadowing dispositions for the night were then taken up. The Prince of Wales was placed astern of the Norfolk, and the Rear-Admiral signaled to the Suffolk that she was to act independently for the operation of her radar. The other two ships would conform to her movements. As a result of the redisposing of the force, she was now well up towards the Bismarck’s port beam and about ten miles away from her. All the British ships were zigzagging against submarine attack, a warning that the British forces might be running into U-boat concentrations having been sent out by the Admiralty some hours before. The bearing of the enemy being what it was, the Suffolk’s zigzag kept jeopardizing her contact with the enemy. On the outward leg, the Suffolk not only opened the range from the Bismarck but her radar came near the after limit of its effective arc and sometimes got shut off. But on the inward leg, contact would be picked up again. So Captain Ellis went on for about two hours, occasionally losing radar touch as he zigzagged out, and finding it once more on the leg back.

Had the Suffolk been occupying her previous position fairly fine on the enemy’s quarter, the zigzag would have had no such risky element. Moreover, the placing of all three shadowing ships on one side of the enemy was of itself distinctly hazardous, since it left his starboard side entirely unguarded. If the Bismarck had radar, as she might have, she would presumably soon become aware that there was no British ship to starboard of her and that a way of escape in that direction was open.

Presently, radar touch was again lost by the Suffolk on her outward zigzag. But this time it was not regained on the inward. Captain Ellis went on with the inward leg, hoping and expecting to pick up contact again at any moment. The minutes passed, however, without the welcome mark reappearing on the screen. In his report, Captain Ellis considers he was slow in realizing that touch had actually been lost. If he was, it was not surprising. His brain was numb with cold and fatigue. He had had no sleep for four nights. For the past thirty hours, he had been under the continuous heavy strain of unflagging watchfulness, punctuated by alarms, ambushes, and shellfire, while he was frozen to the bone through the breaking of the bridge screens hours before.

The Suffolk’s signal announcing the loss of contact was taken in by both the King George V and the Admiralty. Sir John Tovey was snatching some sleep when the signal came through. But the news that the enemy had at last shaken off pursuit brought him back to the plotting room.

11

THE Suffolk had lost contact with the Bismarck at 3 A.M. on May 25, after shadowing her for thirty-one and a half hours. It took exactly thirty-one and a half hours to resight her.² She was finally spotted by a Catalina aircraft of the Coastal Command. The scene has been graphically described in Coastal Command, the Air Ministry handbook: —

“‘George’ [the automatic pilot] was flying the aircraft.” said the pilot, “at 500 feet when we saw a warship. I was in the second pilot’s seat when the occupant of the seat beside me, an American, said: ‘What the devil’s that?’ I stared and saw a dull black shape through the mist which curled above a very rough sea. ‘Looks like a battleship,’ he said. I said: ‘Better get closer. Go round its stern.’ I thought it might be the Bismarck, because I could see no destroyers round the ship and I should have seen them had she been a British warship. I left my seat, went to the wireless operator’s table, grabbed a piece of paper and began to write out a signal.”

This was the signal that first told the British forces and shore authorities that the Bismarck had been found again.

On the direct course for Brest, the Bismarck now had a lead of about fifty miles over the King George V. But this course was not the decisive one. What counted more was the Bismarck’s quickest course to get under German air cover; and for this purpose her lead was more like 100 miles, since she could afford not to point as high as Brest itself but could make for the center of the Bay.

Could the King George V overhaul her before she got within comfortable German bomber range? If the Bismarck maintained her present reported speed of about 20 knots, she could be within that range by daylight the next day. Thus, if she were to he brought into action at all, her speed would have to be considerably reduced-down to 15 knots at least-and the reduction must take place on this day, the 26th.

But how could this be done? Only by torpedoes. The major hope lay in the Ark Royal’s aircraft. If they could get in some attacks, they might be able to slow the Bismarck up. It had to be remembered, however that these attacks, if they eventuated, would represent only the second occasion in history of a battleship at sea being attacked by carrier aircraft: the first being the very recent one of the Victorious aircraft attack on the Bismarck on the evening of May 24, which had not been an overwhelming success.

At 8.40 A.M. Vice-Admiral Somerville had sent out ten aircraft on reconnaissance. These planes had to be got back, refueled, and armed up. By twelve o’clock the aircraft were beginning to return, each one reporting its number by lamp as it got close. All were soon circling overhead except the two that were in touch with the enemy and were staying on until relieved.

As soon as the aircraft of the morning sweep were back on board the Ark Royal, every available aircraft other than those needed for shadowing was prepared for the coming torpedo strike. The crews had their lunch and came up to the Observer’s office to discuss the coming attack. By 2.15 P.M., the fifteen aircraft available for the strike were coming up on the lifts. At 2.40 engines were started up, and at 2.50 the fly-off had begun. The crews had been briefed to attack the Bismarck with torpedoes in a position about forty miles in such-andsuch a direction. They were told she would be found all by herself on the ocean, no other ship being anywhere near.

At one o’clock Sir James Somerville had made a general signal that the torpedo striking force would leave the Ark Royal at three o’clock, and at 3.20 P.M. he made another signal that it had gone off at the time previously mentioned. On board the Home Fleet ships pressing southeastward this information was received with great satisfaction. Despite the rotten weather the air attack was on the way. With any luck, the Bismarck would be severely damaged and perhaps slowed up enough to be overhauled.

With any luck. But mixed with hopefulness was a certain nervous suspense. So much depended on this attack. If it failed, the casualties among the aircraft might be too heavy for another attack to be effective; in any case, it was doubtful that a second attack would succeed if the first did not.

The Rodney had just been sighted from the King George I slightly before the port beam. Nothing had been heard of her for thirty hours, and now this old 16-inch gun warrior had come silently up over the horizon as if she knew exactly when to take her cue out of the wings. She was 7 knots slower than either the King George V or Bismarck. Yet here she was, making her appearance just where and when she was wanted. During the next few hours she slowly converged on the King George V and by 6 P.M. had formed astern of her.

As she drew near, the Admiral had asked her by signal what speed she would do and the reply was 22 knots. The Admiral therefore hoisted the signal for this, and the King George V’s speed was reduced accordingly, so that the two ships could remain in company. But after about twenty minutes a signal came across from the Rodney: “I am afraid your 22 knots is a bit faster than ours.” Sir John Tovey remarked that you could almost, hear the old ship panting for breath as she sent the message. I he Rodney had now only two out of her original three destroyers with her, and they were very short of fuel. Their leader, the Somali, had already gone for this reason, and had meant to take the others with her. But they, a little fuller, had begged to remain as long as possible and Captain Caslon had let them.

12

TO THOSE who knew what fateful issues were involved, the wait for news of the air attack on the Bismarck seemed endless. The aircraft should have been dropping their torpedoes certainly by four o’clock; but that hour passed, and the next, and the next after that, in silence that grew increasingly ominous. Had something gone wrong ? At half-past six the blow fell. A signal came in from Sir James Somerville that the striking force had scored no hits.

Sir James Somerville, understandably, did not care to say at this juncture why there had been none. The weather had been deteriorating all day, and while the air strike was still in the preparation stage, Sir James had found himself wondering whether the shadowing aircraft could long continue their work. He therefore determined to send the Sheffield on ahead to establish a surface contact. About half-past one, more than an hour before the striking force took off, he had ordered her to find and shadow the Bismarck. The order was flashed by signal searchlight, and went only to the Sheffield.

The Ark Royal, though in sight of the Sheffield, was a mile or two away from her and at the moment was busy flying on some shadowing aircraft. The visibility was none too good, and there were frequent rain squalls. When, therefore, the Sheffield put on speed and slipped away towards the Bismarck, the Ark Royal never noticed her departure.

The striking force flew off a little later, the crews believing, as they had been told, that any ship they saw near the position given would be the enemy. Flying through rain and mist, they picked up a ship on their radar sets in roughly the expected position. Going down to have a look, they saw a ship some way ahead. Naturally assuming it was the Bismarck, they went back into cloud until it was time to dive to the attack. Then down they went, intent on the assault, their minds fixed on the assured anticipation of seeing the Bismarck below them as they broke cloud cover.

It was in fact the Sheffield. But it is hardly surprising that, in that tense moment, they should have failed to recognize her when they came into the open. She was actually their customary training target and they had made many dummy attacks on her in previous months. But they went down expecting to see an enemy, and such is the power of suggestion that it was as an enemy that most ot them saw her.

More than an hour after the Swordfish had taken off from the Ark Royal, her signal officer had hurried up to Captain Maund with a copy of a signal that had just been deciphered. It was the wireless message from Vice-Admiral Somerville to the Admiralty, repeated for information to the Ark Royal, saying that the Sheffield had gone ahead to shadow. It had been on board the Ark Royal since about 2 P.M., but had only just been dealt with by the cipher staff. The reason for the delay was that a great many signals were flowing in for deciphering at this time, including those from the Ark Royal’s own aircraft, who were reporting the Bismarck every few minutes, and the cipher staff were hardpressed by the volume of the traffic. A signal, therefore, which was not addressed directly to, but only marked as repeated to, the ship was taken as being of secondary importance and was put aside for a quiet moment. When its turn did come to be attended to, its significance was immediately appreciated; hence the signal officer’s anxious concern as he came to his Captain.

Captain Maund as instantly perceived the grave implications of the signal. Throwing secrecy to the winds in order to gain time, he made a signal in plain language to the striking force to “look out for Sheffield.” But it was too late.

On the Sheffield, Captain Larcom had received Sir James Somerville’s signals that the air striking force would be coming and that it. had taken off at 3 P.M. He was therefore expecting to have the Swordfish fly over him, and it was no surprise when it was reported to him, about a quarter to four, that they were in sight. As he turned his glasses onto them, however, he suddenly realized, after a moment or two of incredulity, that they were diving down to attack his ship. Instantly he rang down for full speed and put his wheel over to confuse the attackers’ aim. Not a gun was fired by the Sheffield, and her officers and men watched in silence the released torpedoes dropping towards the water, intended for them.

The first fell into the sea with a heavy splash, and the impotent observers braced themselves for an approaching torpedo track. A moment later their attention was focused by something even more arresting. The second torpedo reached the sea, but as it touched the water it detonated with a thunderous roar, flinging a fountain of spray in all directions. The next torpedo did the same thing. Before starting, the torpedo heads had been armed with magnetic pistols, and it was plain that these were going off on hitting the water.

Of the remaining torpedoes, three exploded innocuously in this manner well away from the Sheffield. And three aircraft realized, as they dived down, that a mistake was being made, and withheld their torpedoes. Thus there were only six or seven dangerous torpedoes for the Sheffield to contend with. By this time she was swinging rapidly round at high speed. With every spare officer and man on the bridge scanning the sea for the telltale tracks, Captain Larcom swung the ship one way and another to avoid the torpedoes, and with such skill that all passed him harmlessly by.

13

IT WAS a gloomy set of airmen that returned to the carrier. They had set out with such high hopes; all the higher because Fleet Air Arm had still to win an established reputation in sea warfare, and the young men of the Ark Royal were longing to set a lustrous example for others to follow. But all they had achieved was this lamentable anticlimax of attacking a friendly ship. Until they were back on board, Captain Maund did not become aware of the distressing story that had to be told. But he, knowing it was not the aircrews’ fault, told them not to worry and that they would have another chance a little later. They were to go down and get something to eat, and then come up to discuss the next attack. Under this sympathetic treatment, their misery fell away and was replaced, as Captain Maund could see, by a grim determination not to have any further mishaps.

With the ship rolling heavily, aircraft were refueled and more torpedoes got ready. One lesson at least, of immediate practical value, had been learned from the attack on the Sheffield: the magnetic pistols were unreliable. Captain Maund therefore decided to substitute for the next attack the old and well-tried contact pistols, which fired only when they hit something.

This time, too, there would be no mistake about the Sheffield. To make assurance extra sure, the aircraft were told to contact that ship on their way to the Bismarck, and the Sheffield herself was told that they would do so.

By 7 P.M. the striking force was up on deck and ranged. There were fifteen Swordfish, every single torpedo bomber that remained in the ship. It was still blowing hard. Visibility was exceedingly variable, cloud was at 600 feet or less, and rainstorms covering very large areas were sweeping across the sea. Once more the ship was turned into the wind and once more the aircraft careened unsteadily along the heaving deck before they rose clear into storm-swept sky. As they formed up in the air and disappeared in the direction of the enemy, everyone in the Ark Royal knew that they meant to succeed this time.

About forty minutes later, just before 8 P.M., the Sheffield sighted them coming. She made to them “the enemy is twelve miles dead ahead,” and they were seen climbing into the clouds. Half an hour later they were back to ask for another bearing, having apparently failed to find the Bismarck. Redirected, they departed once more in the enemy’s direction. There was too much rain and low cloud about for the Sheffield’s people to keep them long in sight. But after an interval there came an outburst of gunfire fine on the starboard bow, and the bright winking of numerous shellbursts in the air, which showed plainly that the attack was starting.

The distant display of anti-aircraft fire flashed and sparkled for some minutes and then died away. There was a pause, and then those on the bridge of the Sheffield saw first one and then two more Swordfish flying towards them. They came past very low on a level with the bridge. It could be seen that their torpedoes had gone, and as one Swordfish flew by very close the crew were smiling broadly and had their thumbs held upwards. All those on the Sheffield’s bridge and upper deck took off their caps and gave them a cheer as they passed.

While the attacks were still proceeding, those on the Sheffield’s bridge noticed that the Bismarck was altering course. She would naturally swerve about a good deal to dodge the torpedoes being dropped at her. Now she was getting almost broadside on to the Sheffield. Then suddenly from the distant enemy ship there came four rippling yellow flashes from her turret guns. As if stung to fury by the air attacks against her, she had opened fire on the only British ship she could see.

The shells fell a long way, perhaps more than a mile, from the Sheffield; and someone on her bridge made a derisory remark about the shooting. He spoke too soon. Again the enemy’s turrets spurted their bright tongues of flame, and about fifty seconds later there were some piercing cracks as four 15-inch shells fell very close on either side of the British cruiser, exploding on hitting the water. Huge splashes shot up alongside, and the air was filled with whizzing shell splinters. Captain Larcom went on to full speed, put the wheel over to get clear, and gave the order to make smoke. But before that last order had produced any result four more enemy salvos had fallen unpleasantly close.

The splinters from the second one had caused casualties among the anti-aircraft gun crews, twelve men being wounded, three of whom died. They had also destroyed the ship’s radar apparatus, an awkward piece of damage because the Sheffield could now only shadow by eyesight, and would therefore be ineffective for that purpose after dark.

The air striking force had begun to return to the Ark Royal about 9 P.M., but they had a long way to go, and the last of them was not on board till an hour and a half later. Five had been damaged by gunfire. In one, 127 holes were counted, the pilot and air gunner having both been wounded. But despite all this and the failing light, only one aircraft crashed.

It was a more cheerful lot of airmen who climbed out of their aircraft and went up to tell their stories. The crews were interrogated separately as they returned, and it was not until well after 10 P.M. that Captain Maund felt satisfied that one hit had been obtained amidships on the Bismarck.

Reports from the Sheffield to Admiral Tovey indicated that the Bismarck was clearly moving in a general northward direction. Why was she behaving in this strange, and indeed suicidal, manner? It was to her vital interest to make every mile of progress she could towards the southeast. Yet here she was steering almost in the opposite direction for nearly half an hour. The thought was forming among Sir John Tovey and his staff that the Bismarck’s otherwise inexplicable movements might be due to her rudders being damaged and she herself being no longer under control.

Whatever the explanation, ihe situation had turned dramatically in the British favor. If the Bismarck was heading northwards, oven temporarily, it meant that Sir John Tovey’s force would be closing her at the rate of from 30 to 45 knots, according to her speed. Sir John was satisfied that she could not now escape him, and he therefore decided that, as night was falling, he would not seek an action at once, but would wait for daylight.

14

As DAY began to dawn, the poor visibility of a stormy horizon convinced the Admiral that conditions were unfavorable for an immediate action, and that it would be better to wait an hour or two for full daylight.

Sir James Somerville on the Ark Royal had come to much the same decision regarding the intended dawn air attack. In this vile weather, there was serious risk of the aircraft mistaking friend for foe. Sir James was none too sure of the position of either the King George V and Rodney or of the Bismarck; and after the narrow squeak of torpedoing the Sheffield the day before, he wanted no more mishaps of that kind.

Shortly before sunrise, Sir John Tovey signaled across to the Rodney astern of him to tell Captain Dalrymple-Hamilton that in the forthcoming action he was free to maneuver independently, provided he conformed generally to the Admiral’s movemerits. The Rodney’s two remaining destroyers had just been obliged to leave her for the return to their base for fuel. They had waited with her as long as they were able, but could wait no longer.

The Commander-in-Chiefs intentions, made known at this time to his Flag-Captain and Staff, were to close the enemy as quickly as possible to about 15,000 yards and then turn for a broadside battle. But first of all the exact position of the Bismarck had to be determined.

The solution to this urgent problem was provided by the Norfolk. She had been rushing south in desperate haste all night, fearful of being too late for the final drama. At quarter-past eight, she sighted a battleship about eight miles ahead and nearly end-on. Thinking it was the Rodney, Captain Phillips ordered the challenge to be made. Getting no reply, he had a more careful look and then realized that the vessel he was approaching at 20 knots was the Bismarck herself. As the Norfolk sheered away to open the range, she sighted the two British battleships in the distance and was able to give them a visual link with the enemy.

At 8.47 a.m., the Rodney’s 16-inch guns opened the battle. Just as the salvo was due to fall, the King George V’s guns flashed out and both the British battleships were in action. The Bismarck had not yet replied and she remained silent for another two minutes. Then she too joined in.

The Bismarck’s first salvo was a long way short. But it did not take her long to correct her aim, and her third salvo straddled the Rodney and nearly hit her. Having been given latitude to maneuver independently, Captain Dalrymple-Hamilton altered course to port and brought his A ares to bear, subjecting the Bismarck to heavier gunfire than she herself could develop.

At 8.54 A.M. the Norfolk, which was six or seven miles to the northeast of the British battleships, opened fire with her 8-inch guns at 20,000 yards. The battleships’ range was already closer than that and was shortening rapidly; and about this time the Rodney brought her secondary armament into action. The Bismarck was now under the concentrated fire of three ships, and her gunnery efficiency was noticeably falling off.

Twelve minutes after the commencement of the battle, the King George V was in to 16,000 yards and Sir John Tovey thought it time to bring the flagship’s full fire to bear. After a word up the voice pipe to Captain Patterson to tell him what was coming, the Admiral made the signal for a course of soulh, nearly opposite to the very wobbly path the Bismarck was following towards the northwest. A minute before nine o’clock, the King George V began her swing to starboard towards the new course, and her after turrets were soon in action. The Rodney, whose independent maneuverings had taken her out nearly three miles from the flagship, turned south two or three minutes later.

Just after the turn, the Bismarck transferred her fire to the King George V , now the leading ship. But some of her guns were no longer firing and only an occasional shot or two fell close.

The run to the south by the King George V and Rodney went on for about a quarter of an hour, with the range nearly steady at 12,000 yards. During this period, ten torpedoes were fired at The enemy — six by the Rodney at 11,000 yards and four by the Norfolk at 16,000 yards. None were seen to hit, and indeed iT would have been a great fluke if any had done so, fired from such ranges.

This action on opposite courses naturally made the enemy’s bearing draw fairly rapidly aft, and Captain Dalrymplo-Hamilton decided to turn the Rodney round to preserve the broadside bearing and head the enemy off. The fact that the enemy’s fire was now on the King George V would enable the Rodney to make her turn without danger, and at 9.12 A.M. the wheel was put over for the new course. Once round, the Rodney’s full fire was again brought to bear, and she was thus able to cover the turn of the King George V, which came round some minutes after her. The Rodney was now the leading ship, and perhaps for that reason the Bismarck made her again the target.

Both British ships were getting close, being in to 8500 and 11,000 yards respectively, and details of the Bismarck were easily discernible through binoculars. Obvious signs of punishment were visible. A fairly large fire was blazing amidships. Some of her guns seemed to have been silenced, and the others were firing only spasmodically. Her foremost turrets fired a salvo at 9.27, but shortly after that the Norfolk, which had placed herself almost ahead of the Bismarck for flank marking purposes, saw two of the forward 15-inch guns run down to maximum depression, as if a British hit had caused a failure of hydraulic power in the turret.

At lessening ranges, the two British battleships steamed north past the slowly moving enemy ship, pouring in a heavy fire from both main and secondary armament guns. At this relatively close distance hits on the upper works were easily seen. A large explosion occurred just abaft B turret (the upper of the two foremost turrets), which blew the back of the turret up over the bridge. A very spectacular hit blew away the 15-inch alofl Director, which toppled over the side. The Rodney fired another two torpedoes at 7500 yards, but neither of them hit.

The unsteady crawl through the water to which the Bismarck had by now been reduced meant that the British battleships quickly overhauled and passed her, and soon the bearing had grown so far aft that the foremost guns were almost ceasing to bear. It would have been simpler to have shot the battle out on a more or less constant broadside bearing; but this could only be done by using approximately the same speed as the enemy. This speed, however, was much too low for safety in view of the probable presence of enemy submarines. The Rodney therefore began to zigzag close across the enemy’s bows, firing sometimes at her starboard side, sometimes at her port, and sometimes down the length of her hull.

At the end of each of the Rodney’s zigzags, her foremost turrets would be on their extreme after bearing and firing close past the ship’s bridge, where the blast was severely felt. On one occasion, it removed Captain Coppinger’s steel helmet from his head with such force that it hit and knocked out a signalman standing some feel away.

In order to keep well clear of the Rodney, the King George V had taken a broad sweep out and back on the enemy’s beam. Moreover, she was by now (about 9.30 A.M.) suffering badly from the same complaint that had afflicted her sister ship the Prince of Wales in the earlier battle. Gunnery breakdowns were occurring with unpleasant frequency. Her three turrets were severally out of action from this cause for varying periods, one for as long as half an hour; in addition there were breakdowns at the individual guns. There were times when her available firepower was down to 20 per cent of the maximum — a reduction which might, in other circumstances, have had disastrous consequences.

15

BY 10 A.M. the Bismarck was a silent, battered wreck. Her mast was down, her funnel had disappeared, her guns were pointing in all directions, and a cloud of black smoke was rising from the middle of the ship and blowing away with the wind. Inside, she was clearly a blazing inferno, for the bright glow of internal fires could be seen shining through numerous shell and splinter holes in her sides. Her men were deserting their guns, and parties of them could be seen running to and fro on the upper deck as the shells continued to rain in, and occasionally jumping over the side, to escape by watery death from the terror on board.

But her flag still flew. Ostensibly, at least, she remained defiant. Powerless and, like Sir Richard Grenville’s Revenge, surrounded by enemies, she did not surrender — though under modern conditions the intention to surrender a ship is not too easy to indicate.

Surrender or not, the British ships meant to sink her, and as quickly as they could. At any moment long-distance German aircraft might appear or torpedoes come streaking in from U-boats that were already amazingly late in arriving on the scene; while to add to the urgency there was the nagging anxiety of the acute fuel shortage. Both the King George V and Rodney should, from this point of view alone, have been on the way home hours ago — especially the former. There was absolutely not a moment to be lost in putting the Bismarck underwater. Sir John Tovey’s impatience showed itself by a desire for point-blank range. “Get closer, get closer,” he began to tell Captain Patterson, “I can’t see enough hits.”

The Rodney was now firing nine-gun broadsides at the Bismarck from the 16-inch guns, the huge shells hitting her in threes and fours at a time. At 3000 yards the Rodney also fired her last two torpedoes, and one of them was seen to hit the Bismarck amidships. The Norfolk had also fired her remaining four torpedoes from a range of 4000 yards and believed she obtained at least one hit. But still the Bismarck floated.

Sir John was feeling acute concern at the refusal of the Bismarck to sink. He had given her a hammering by gunfire that he had no conception any ship could stand. But there she was, still above water. If she could bear all that without going down, who could tell how much more she might not endure? And Sir John was already quite certain that he could not afford to spend any more time on firing at 1 his ship.

It was imperative that his force should start back. He had waited dangerously long as it was, and every extra half-hour would make his return more hazardous. He looked at the burning hulk, lying deep and sluggish in the water, that had once been a fighting battleship. It was obvious to him that whether she sank now or sank later, she would never get back to harbor. At 10.15 A.M., he signaled to the Rodney to form astern on a course of 027 degrees (about North-Northeast). He was going home.

As Sir John steered away, he signaled that any ship with torpedoes was to close the Bismarck and torpedo her. As it happened, the Dorsetshire was the only ship in the immediate vicinity with any torpedoes left. Captain Martin, however, had not waited to be told, but was already using them. At 10.20, from about 3500 yards, he fired two torpedoes at the Bismarck’s starboard side, one of which exploded right under the bridge. He then steered round to her port side and fired another torpedo from about 2500 yards at 10.36. This torpedo also hit. The shattered leviathan, her colors still flying, silently heeled over to port, turned bottom up, and disappeared beneath the waves. The time was 10.40. As she was turning over, Captain Martin received the Admiral’s order to do what, in fact, he had already done. He at once made a signal to say that the Bismarck had sunk.

The great chase was over. The mighty Bismarck had been disposed of after a most gallant fight against superior force. All that was left of her was several hundred heads of swimming men, visible on the surface of the breaking seas. The Dorsetshire summoned the nearby Maori to help her pick up survivors. It was too rough to lower any boats, even had this been permissible. But lines were thrown out and jumping ladders let down the sides. Many of the men in the water were too exhausted to climb up them; but the Dorsetshire managed to haul eighty on board and the Maori thirty. Then came a lookout’s report of a submarine periscope, and Captain Martin considered it high time to withraw.

When Sir John Tovey’s force had settled down to its return course, with its duty done and the tension eased, there were various departmental heads in all ships to be commended for their people’s share in the successful result of the operation. Prominent among these latter were the engine-room complement of the Rodney. Her steaming performance had, indeed, been a notable one. Before she had sailed and any question of chasing the Bismarck had arisen, the Third Sea Lord had told the Director of Operations half jokingly that her boilers were in such a state that she would probably come to a stop in mid-Atlantic and have to be towed the remainder of the way.

Yet the Rodney had kept her place in the hunt though it had meant several days of fast steaming culminating in thirty-six hours at full speed. Captain Dalrymple-Hamilton now wished to congratulate the head of the department, Commander (E) C. Burge, on this line effort, and sent down for him to come up on the bridge. The reply came back that Commander Burge had “passed out.” He had been continuously below since the full speed began, and had now fainted from strain and exhaustion.

If the destruction of the Bismarck was not actually the longest continuous chase in naval history — Nelson’s pursuit of Villeneuve to and from the West Indies in 1805 covered greater distances—it was among the longest. In point of dramatic reversals of fortune, of the frequent alternation of high optimism and blank disappointment, of brilliant victory followed quickly by utter defeat, it is probably unique in warfare. From the time the Bismarck and Prinz Eugen were first sighted in their Norwegian fiords to the time the Bismarck was sunk was three hours less than six days, during which the Bismarck covered nearly 3000 miles.

It has been claimed by some people, including naval officers, that a special significance attaches to the fact that it was a torpedo from an aircraft that, hitting her rudders, slowed the Bismarck up and allowed her to be brought to action. It is true that without the intervention of the Ark Royal’s aircraft the Bismarck would have got away. It is less well known that without a shell hit the Bismarck received (probably from the Prince of Wales) in the action of May 24, the Ark Royal might have been unable to play the decisive card. This shell entered the forepart of the ship, exploded deep down among some of the oil fuel tanks, and blew a hole in the ship’s side.

The effect was twofold. The hole allowed oil fuel to escape into the sea, the leakage of which caused that broad oil streak which was noticed for some time after the action by the Suffolk and the shadowing aircraft. It also let sea water into those particular oil tanks, thereby contaminating more oil that remained in the ship. The total result was that the Bismarck’s supply of usable oil fuel was sensibly reduced, and with it her capacity for continued high speed all the way to Brest. But for this hit, she could undoubtedly have maintained a higher average speed during the next three days, which could have put her, had she followed the same general course, two or three hundred miles closer to Brest when first sighted by the Ark Royal’s aircraft; or probably just that much nearer home to have brought her to safety.

Without that shell hit, the Bismarck might, well have decided to go on steering out into the Atlantic. Indeed, an Admiralty note to Sir John Tovey’s dispatch says that it was this hit and the resulting loss of fuel which caused the German Admiral Lutjens on board the Bismarck to decide at 8 A.M. —or two hours after the action — to make for the French coast. It was presumably this decision which determined the Bismarck’s alteration of course to south at 12.40 P.M. that same day, but for which alteration she would not have come within striking range of the Victorions’s aircraft, and quite probably those of the Ark Royal.

The most correct conclusion to draw concerning the Bismarck’s destruction is undoubtedly that it was the fruit of cooperative action on the part of numerous sea and air forces, the latter partly naval and partly RAF, all working in close accord for the one common end, and including all those surface vessels, submarines, and aircraft which searched and patrolled without finding her.

An impressive aspect of the operation is the very large number of hunting forces required to bring one battleship to book. The following war vessels were from first to last involved: eight battleships and battle cruisers, two aircraft carriers, four 8-inch gun cruisers, seven other cruisers, twenty-one destroyers, and six submarines. In addition, there were numerous shore-based aircraft.

This imposing total provides a peculiarly striking illustration of the ample margin of superiority required by a Power that aspires to the command of the sea, or even of a portion of the sea. It also serves to emphasize how fortunate it was that the Germans sent their raiding heavy ships out by ones and twos. A few months before the Bismarck made her dash, the battle cruisers Scharnhorst and Gneisenau had escaped into the Atlantic and got to Brest. Some months after the Bismarck was sunk, her sister ship, the Tirpitz, was fit for active operations. Had the Germans waited till the Tirpitz was ready and then sent all four ships out in company, the problem of dealing with them at sea would have been a thorny one indeed. But happily for us, the Germans decided to expend their capital ships in penny packets.