The battle in the Denmark Strait was over and the Hood was gone. It seemed beyond belief to the Germans on the Bismarck and Prinz Eugen, terrifying to Captain Leach on board the Prince of Wales, and an enormous shock to Wake-Walker, Phillips and Ellis on the Norfolk and Suffolk. When the flagship had been destroyed and Vice Admiral Holland had perished, Rear Admiral Wake-Walker assumed command of the remaining ships.
While the two cruisers continued to shadow the German squadron, and the Prince of Wales attached, Wake-Walker sent a message stating that the battlecruiser had blown up and then asked for a damage report from Captain Leach on board the Prince of Wales. The priority was still to retain contact with the Germans, so there was no time to rescue survivors from the Hood. Holland’s four destroyers would have to do that. An hour later, Captain Leach reported that his ship was again combat ready and could make 27 knots. Wake-Walker ordered him to assume position on the Norfolk’s port side.293
Where the Hood had blown up, three men struggled to stay afloat on their small Carley floats. The hours passed and the mood of the men vacillated between a burning desire to survive and an ever increasing fatigue as well as the conviction that they would never see land again. Tilburn felt closer and closer to unconsciousness. He had heard that the best way to freeze to death in the water was to fall asleep first. Then he would pass away from this world serenely. But if he fell asleep, he might slip off the Carley float and drown, which he believed was far worse. The instinct of self-preservation made him struggle on each time he tended to close his eyes and disappear.
It was Midshipman Dundas who kept them going. He spoke to them and encouraged them to sing ‘Roll out the barrel,’ to prevent the coldness and exhaustion from overcoming the three desperate men. For a long time, they managed to keep their rafts close together, but eventually they became separated.294
On board the destroyer Electra, one of Holland’s escort ships, the signal officer received Wake-Walker’s message and turned in shock towards the commander, Lieutenant Commander Cain. ‘From the Norfolk, sir,’ he said. ‘The Hood has blown up!’
Cain, who believed the signal officer had gone mad and tried some kind of weird joke, began to scold him, until he saw the tears in the face of the signal officer and finally the truth dawned upon him.
‘For God’s sake, sir,’ the signal officer said. ‘It is true…’
On the Bulldog, another of Holland’s escorting destroyers and the very ship that had captured the U-110 a few weeks earlier, the commander refused to believe the message just received and was convinced that there must have been some kind of mix-up of ship names. On board Somerville’s Renown, Dalrymple-Hamilton’s Rodney, on board British ships patrolling in the Far East or Royal Navy ships hunkering under air attacks by the Luftwaffe, the effect and the reactions were the same: distrust, shock and grief. To the British, the loss of the Hood was more than the loss of a warship, it was the loss of a symbol for the nation. She had been bigger, faster and better armed than most warships. Suddenly she no longer existed and from her crew of more than 1,400 men, only three men survived to bear witness about the final moments on board the battlecruiser. Just as most Englishmen remembered what they were doing on the day Britain declared war on Germany, so many remembered what they were doing when they were told that the Hood had blown up.295
At Chequers, Churchill was woken up with the news that the Hood had been destroyed. He got up, walked to the room where Averell Harriman had his accommodation for the night and spoke briefly with the American envoy. ‘The Hood has been sunk,’ Churchill said, dejected.
However, further disappointments awaited the Prime Minister. Churchill went to bed again, but had hardly fallen asleep when Martin, his private secretary, came with further information
‘Have we sunk her?’ Churchill asked hopefully.
The secretary shook his head. ‘No,’ he said, ‘and the Prince of Wales has disengaged.’
When Tovey’s signal officer arrived at the bridge on board the King George V with Wake-Walker’s message, he read the text with an unusually loud and excited voice. Although Tovey must have been perplexed by the message, he remained outwardly composed as he received it. ‘It is fine, Jacobs,’ he calmly answered. ‘There is no need to shout.’
But the situation had deteriorated considerably. A few hours earlier, Tovey had had three fairly powerful and fast ships, the Hood, Prince of Wales and King George V. Now one of them was gone and the other damaged. While the lookouts on the flagship sighted the ravaged remnants of convoy HX126 heading east, Tovey assembled his staff to reconsider the situation. They did not appreciate the picture that emerged and their despondence was shared by the Admiralty in London. Now it was important to scramble as large a force as possible to sink the Bismarck. Admiral Somerville’s Force H had already been ordered to meet convoy WS8B, which was heading for the Middle East, but it now appeared imperative that Somerville’s ships be committed to chasing the Bismarck. Further reinforcements were sent into the operation. The two battleships Revenge and Ramillies, old vessels mainly used for convoy escort, were ordered to assume suitable positions. The Revenge was in Halifax and would have to sail immediately to have any chance of engaging the Bismarck. The Ramillies escorted convoy HX127 and was presently about 1,700 kilometres south of the German squadron. She was ordered to leave the convoy and position herself west of the line the Bismarck would follow if she continued on her present course.296
To send these aged battleships into combat against the Bismarck shows the Admiralty’s determination to sink the German battleship. The range of the main guns carried by the Revenge and Ramillies did not exceed 22 kilometres, approximately 15 kilometres less than those of the Bismarck. Considering that the German battleship was also roughly 10 knots faster, it would require very favourable circumstances for these old ships even to get the chance to fire a shot at the Bismarck. The German ship could either sail away, or choose to fight at ranges beyond the reach of the old guns of the Ramillies and Revenge.
The Rodney was a more useful ship. Although her maximum speed was limited to 23 knots, her armament and protection was of a much more modern standard than that of the Ramillies and Revenge. When the battle in the Denmark Strait was fought, the Rodney was on her way towards Halifax. Before noon, Captain Dalrymple-Hamilton received the order to try to engage the Bismarck. If necessary, the Rodney was to leave the Britannic, which she soon did.297
Further ships became involved in the operation in various ways. The Royal Navy needed to monitor the Bismarck, in order to bring her to battle. For the moment the Norfolk, Suffolk and Prince of Wales shadowed Lütjens’ two ships, but there was always a risk that contact would be lost, or the pursuers might be forced to break off, for example due to lack of fuel. Three cruisers, London, Edinburgh and Dorsetshire, were in the area east and northeast of the Azores. They received orders to move in a northwesterly direction, to reach a suitable position in case contact with the German squadron was lost.298
None of these measures would have any immediate effect and Tovey would have to cope with the present forces for another day. If he could bring the King George V and Repulse into gun range with the German squadron, while the Prince of Wales maintained contact, he would have three capital ships against one German. However, such a scenario was indeed difficult. The initial reports on the battle in the Denmark Strait gave Tovey no reason to assume that the Bismarck had suffered any significant damage. On the contrary, she steamed on at 27 to 28 knots, which was equal to the maximum speed of the King George V and Prince of Wales. As Tovey’s force was still almost 700 kilometres from the German squadron, prospects of a battle appeared gloomy.299
Even if Tovey could manage to engage the Bismarck with all three capital ships, the outcome of such a battle need not be favourable to him. The Prince of Wales had been damaged in the battle in the Denmark Strait and her guns had repeatedly suffered from various problems, preventing them from firing. The Repulse was weakly protected, even in comparison with the Hood. To make matters worse, nothing suggested that the Bismarck’s combat capabilities had been impaired. However, such risks seem not to have deterred the British. On the contrary, they displayed a remarkable willingness to stake everything on one card. An example of the determination was a request made by the Admiralty to Wake-Walker, where he was instructed to describe his intentions to bring the Prince of Wales into battle again.
In fact, the message came from Churchill. The Prime Minister had been preoccupied with the disastrous events at Crete and North Africa, when he received the news about the destruction of the Hood. While he was torn between the catastrophes, he was deeply concerned about what would happen if the Bismarck found a British convoy on the Atlantic. In particular, the safety of convoy WS8B, which was bearing vital reinforcements for the Middle East, worried him profoundly. He asked the First Sea Lord, Admiral Dudley Pound, to inquire whether the Prince of Wales could re-engage the German battleship.
Wake-Walker did not know that the inquiry originated from Churchill, he assumed that it had been sent due to some kind of general impression within the Admiralty. He was familiar with the inner workings of the Admiralty and interpreted the message as an indication that he ought to engage the Bismarck as soon as possible. If this was the unspoken order, Wake-Walker, who was on the spot and had a clearer insight into the situation, disagreed. He had himself witnessed the remarkable accuracy of the German fire. The second salvo had straddled the target; a very impressive feat considering the range. The Prince of Wales, on the other hand, had exhibited grave problems with her guns, which had malfunctioned frequently in the battle. Finally, the British battleship was damaged and it was doubtful if she could generate the speed needed to force the Germans to battle. After carefully considering the alternatives, Wake-Walker informed the Admiralty that he did not intend to engage the Bismarck until further heavy British units had arrived, or if all other options had failed.300 However, a suspicion that the Admiralty was dissatisfied with his unwillingness to engage the German squadron had taken root in him.
One point of the utmost importance to both sides was whether the Bismarck had been damaged and, if so, to what extent. Of course, the British were hard put to get any knowledge on the matter, but it was not easy for the Germans either to form an accurate picture. The German flagship had in fact been hit by three shells, all of them fired from the Prince of Wales. One of the shells had passed through a boat and continued into the ocean without exploding. Another shell had passed through the forecastle, in section XXI, and ruptured oil tanks. Finally, one shell had struck the water, hit the battleship below the side armour in section XIV and detonated against a torpedo bulkhead. The sections were numbered from stern to bow, thus section XIV was located slightly aft of the two forward main turrets.301
The long-term effects of these hits could not be established at this stage, but Lütjens, Lindemann and the staff officers formed a fairly accurate impression quite soon after the battle. The hit in section XIV was not particularly serious. In general, the hull had absorbed it very well, but a leak caused water to enter a generator room and a boiler room. The Bismarck had been constructed with redundant capacities so that her generators could produce more than twice the electricity needed, for example. The loss of the generator room just meant that her safety margins had been reduced. If no other damage was sustained, it was inconsequential.
The hit in the bow caused more concern. It meant not only that the oil in this section was lost, but also that oil from the section ahead could not be pumped astern. A significant portion of Bismarck’s fuel was either lost or unavailable, severely curtailing her radius of action. In addition, the flow of water rushing in through the hole resulting from the hit could be a significant concern. As long as the ship did not sail at very high speed, it was not much more than a nuisance, but at speeds close to 30 knots, the pressure caused by the water on the bulkhead between section XX and XXI became alarmingly strong. Lütjens ordered the speed not to exceed 28 knots. It was still rather impressive, and equal to the speed of the King George V and Prince of Wales, but the loss of two or three knots meant that the Bismarck no longer had a speed advantage over the fastest British battleships.302
As neither Lütjens, nor Lindemann or any other of the senior officers survived Operation Rheinübung, we can only surmise as to how they reached their decisions. In addition to the condition of the flagship after the battle in the Denmark Strait, there were several other factors that are likely to have influenced Lütjens and the other officers. The first and most obvious one was that the Royal Navy had been able to send a task force into battle against the German squadron so soon after it had left Bergen. The inescapable conclusion was that the British must have been informed that the Bismarck and Prinz Eugen had left port almost as soon as it happened, or they would not have been able to reach the Denmark Strait in time to catch up with the German battleships. It was just wishful thinking to hope that the British capital ships had happened to be near Iceland for some other reason. The evidence suggested that Operation Rheinübung had been disclosed, which meant that more strong units of the Royal Navy were perhaps not far away.
Lütjens also seems to have been convinced that the enemy had a new and very effective radar, a further factor to take into consideration. The officers on the two German ships expressed somewhat different interpretations about the means by which the British had shadowed them so successfully, but the message Lütjens sent to the naval staff sent in the morning put forward his conclusions.
Operation Rheinübung, if not the entire concept of cruiser warfare, now had to be called into question. The Bismarck was damaged and any secrecy surrounding the operation had been breached. If the British also had radar that would enable them to track down their enemy, then a new plan was urgently required.
If Lütjens broke off Operation Rheinübung, he had two main alternatives. The Bismarck ought to set course for a harbour so that she could make some repairs. Thus either he had to detach the Prinz Eugen, to allow the cruiser to continue operations against British shipping alone, or else both ships should break off the operation and put into port. Irrespective of the alternative settled for, there were a number of ports to choose from, on the French Atlantic coast, in Germany or in Norway. Lutjens choice was limited because not all harbours had a dry dock big enough to hold the Bismarck. In France there was a very large dry dock at St. Nazaire; in Germany there were a number of dry docks large enough. However, in Norway there was no dock large enough, although provisional repairs could be made in Norway, before continuing towards Germany where she could be laid in a dry dock.
The choice of harbour of course determined the course to be set by Lütjens. If he chose to head for St. Nazaire, he would initially have to follow a southerly course and later turn southeast and finally east. If he opted to set course for Germany or Norway, he would have to turn east quite soon. The southerly route to St. Nazaire would bring Lütjens’ ships into larger areas of open sea, where the nights were longer and darker, which would make it easier to shake off his pursuers. Lütjens’ knowledge of the dispositions of the Home Fleet was scant, but the fact that most of its heavy ships were based at Scapa Flow suggested that he was less likely to encounter them on a southerly course. Another advantage with the southerly alternative was the possibility of disengaging the Prinz Eugen, to allow her to continue to fight on her own. The damage suffered by the Bismarck could probably be repaired quickly and a sojourn in St. Nazaire would be little more than a brief pause in the operation. It would be easier to reach the Atlantic unnoticed from St. Nazaire than from the German ports.
However, St. Nazaire did have its disadvantages,. From Lütjens’ present position, the distance to St. Nazaire was 1,700 nautical miles, compared to about 1,150 to Bergen. Even if Lütjens should decide to double back through the Denmark Strait, the distance would be at most 1,400 nautical miles. Those differences could prove critical as part of the Bismarck’s fuel oil had been lost. It was probably assumed that the oil in section XXII could eventually be pumped astern of the damaged section XXI, in which case the differences in distance may not have influenced Lütjens’ decisions heavily. Finally, he had to consider that the southern route might allow him to shake off the pursuers and rendezvous with a German tanker.303
Little more than an hour after the destruction of the Hood, Lütjens informed the naval staff that the Bismarck was heading for St. Nazaire. The Prinz Eugen would conduct cruiser warfare on her own.
In the Denmark Strait, hope had almost deserted the three distressed men from the Hood. Gradually they became more and more separated and numb with cold, drowsiness overcame them. Briggs could faintly hear that Dundas still sang ‘Roll out the barrel,’ but his voice became more and more distant and finally Briggs began to wish the midshipman could shut his mouth so that they all could die serenely. As Briggs sank into some kind of haze, he noted that the song ceased and was followed by a wild scream from Dundas: ‘A destroyer! It is coming towards us!’
Briggs suddenly regained energy and saw that Dundas was correct. Heaving through the large waves, a British destroyer approached, heading straight towards the three distressed men. With eyes stinging from the sea water, Briggs could discern the designation H27 on the ships hull and he realized that it was one of their destroyers. ‘It is the Electra!’ he cried ecstatically. ‘Electra! Electra!’
Tilburn too saw the ship. The three men in the water shrieked and gesticulated as if they had gone crazy. The Electra had steamed south since she received the order to search for survivors. Two hours elapsed before they reached the location where the Hood had blown up, but they found precious few to save. Jack Taylor manned one of the machine guns on the Electra. Like many other seamen on the destroyer, he was preparing to rescue hundreds of survivors. The gale that had raged during the night had destroyed most of the boats. Instead, handlines were lowered alongside the hull, while measures were taken to accommodate the survivors. Blankets were made available, as well as medical equipment. Food and warm beverages were prepared. The men were gathered on the deck, ready to throw out ropes. Taylor stared at the grey water below:
It was only what seemed like a matter of minutes when we broke out of a mist patch into the clear. And there it was. The place where the Hood had sunk. Wreckage of all descriptions was floating on the surface. Hammocks, broken rafts, boots, clothes, caps. Of the hundreds of men we expected to see there was no sign. An awestruck moment and a shipmate next to me exclaimed ‘Good Lord, she’s gone with all hands.’304
The sailor was almost right. A few large oil patches were seen on the water, then a desk drawer surrounded by white sheets of paper. The rest were wrecked goods and dress equipment. That was all.
Except three men yelling and waving in the water.
‘A shout went up as a man appeared clinging to a piece of flotsam a little further away,’ Taylor remembered. ‘Two more were seen – one swimming, the other appeared to be on a small float.’
‘But there must be more of them,’ exclaimed the Chief Engineer. ‘There can’t be only three! Where the hell are all the others?’305
But they were all that remained of the Hood’s crew of 94 officers and 1,324 men: two seamen shouting the name of the destroyer and a midshipman singing ‘Roll out the barrel’ as if his life still depended on it.
The destroyer slowed down beside the three men. Many of her crew had climbed down the ropes and hung half way down to the water, holding out their hands to grab the men in the water. A lifeline was thrown down to Briggs and despite fingers almost rigid from cold, he managed to grasp it.
‘Don’t let it go,’ somebody from the destroyer shouted.
‘You bet your bloody life I won’t.’
When the three men tried to climb up the scrambling nets, the hours in the cold water finally overcame them. Their energy had been sapped and they would not have managed to climb on board the destroyer had not the seamen climbed down and helped them.
The search continued for another hour, but as the battle had recently been fought, any survivors could not have drifted far away. Soon it had to be accepted that there were no more survivors. The destroyers set a northerly course, towards Iceland.
In London, Churchill received his third and very painful piece of news that morning. Not only had the Hood been lost; virtually her entire crew had followed the battlecruiser to the bottom of the ocean.
‘I don’t care how you do it,’ he ordered the First Sea Lord, ‘but sink the Bismarck!’