We would be aboard the floating coffin for a couple of days and we were assigned bunks. We stored our gear in the forward torpedo room. That was where we would leave when we disembarked. The captain was another young lieutenant, Lieutenant Wingfield. He seemed a little put out that we were being landed, “No offence Sergeant, but I don’t like this implication that we might not be able to do our job.”
“I think it is just belt and braces, sir. Lieutenant Colonel Newman seems like the sort who wants to cover every eventuality. Besides this just helps our lads when they attack the lock gates."
Mollified he said, “Well we shall try to make you comfortable eh?”
“We have been in a submarine before, sir, the ‘Sunfish’.”
“Then you know what to expect.”
“Yes sir but I hope we won’t be depth charged this time. Commandos are used to fighting back and not just taking punishment.”
“If we are depth charged then it means the operation has been compromised so let’s hope we have a safe journey. We will travel at night to charge up the batteries and then submerge during the day. We will surface again at night to land you chaps and then return to the Loire and our station.”
The crew were friendly enough and made us feel welcome but the food still tasted of oil and battery acid. The walls were still damp and the whole vessel felt like it was closing in on me. I found the only solution was to keep my mind occupied. One of the officers had a chess set and so the four of us played non-stop. As Gowland could not play when we first started we did remarkably well to teach him to a standard where he could give us a game. We became so engrossed that we barely noticed when we set sail and headed out in the dark night. The conning tower hatch was still open and the air was fresher than it would be when we submerged.
We changed our body clocks. Instead of sleeping at night, when we would have fresher air we waited until the time we would hide on the bottom waiting for nightfall once more. This would help us when we landed and had to lie up during the day. The Germans had anti-submarine patrols in the Channel and they stood more chance of finding us if we were moving. Submariners were the most patient men I ever knew.
Ken and Harry were playing chess. I sat on one of the bunks with Poulson. He seemed in the mood to chat. “What will you do after the war, Sarge?”
“I have not thought that far ahead. I suppose I will go back to University. I had a place at Manchester to study Engineering.”
He nodded, “There will be plenty which needs fixing that is for sure.”
“What about you?”
“I don’t know Sarge. I just had labouring jobs and such before the war. I couldn’t go back to that.” He tapped his head, “I have started to use this a bit more. Besides I like the action. Perhaps I will stay in.”
“After the war I am not certain it will be as exciting. Dad stayed in and it was not the same.”
“He’s still in now though isn’t he Sarge? So it can’t have been that bad.”
He was right. Would I want to stay in? I shook my head. First I had to survive the war.
The klaxon sent shivers down my spine as did the tannoy. “Diving stations! Close all watertight doors!”
As the doors slammed shut I consoled myself with the thought that at least we were not in the torpedo room. Even so as the ship went silent and we descended into the depths I found myself curling up in a foetal ball. This was the most unnatural thing I had ever done. I had thought that jumping out of an aeroplane was weird but this was worse. The heavy air made me sleep but it was not a pleasant sleep it was a nightmare filled horror which had me waking up bathed in sweat.
Ken had the bunk above me. He leaned down as I put my feet over the side. “You were shouting in your sleep Sarge. Are you all right?”
“Just nightmares, Ken. I thought I had grown out of them. I had them as a kid. I suppose your fears never really leave you.”
“You are afraid of nothing, Sarge.”
“Everyone is afraid of something Ken. I just hide mine better than most.”
One of the ratings came along with a Dixie of tea and biscuits. “Not long now lads. Jimmy the One reckons we surface in an hour and then we take you lads in.” We felt the movement as the electric motors were started and we began our slow rise from the bottom of the Channel.
We made the most of the tea and the sugarless biscuits. We would be on just the dry rations and water once we went ashore. The fresh air which raced through the submarine told us that we had surfaced. It would be dark and the submarine would be running with just the conning tower showing. We would not come up any higher until we were within sight of the beach and then we would have to move very quickly. The submarine did not want to hang around.
We made our way forward to the torpedo room. The torpedo men had semi inflated the dingy. They would be able to man handle it through the hatch and then fully inflate it on the surface. It was what Gordy called ‘war paint time’. We darkened our faces and hands. We did not apply it evenly we found that if you used stripes it helped to break up the contours and was like dazzle camouflage on a warship. We examined each other's faces to make sure we had left no white bits.
The Chief Petty Officer arrived, “Captain says we will be on station in five minutes.”
“Thanks Chief.”
He pointed to the torpedo men, “I want you up and out faster than a stoker can hide his wallet when it is his round!”
“Aye aye Chief.”
Perhaps the Chief had senses that we did not for he said, “Get the hatch open!” When the water flooded in I thought he had given the order too early but he knew what he was about and the crewmen had the dingy out and on to the bow in a flash. We held our guns and Bergens. I clambered out into the chilly night air. It felt refreshing. By the time Ken had joined us the dingy had been fully inflated and the two men had it in the water. We slithered down the side and climbed aboard. I looked east. The coast was hidden in darkness but a hint of white flecked water showed the shore. I had no doubt that the Captain had found the right place. I slipped my Bergen on my back and held my Thompson across my knees. The two sailors were powerful men and they powered us through the water. I suspected that the tide was on the way in for we were leaping off the dingy in no time at all.
Goodbyes were superfluous and we waded ashore and ran to the rocky point to our right. I glanced back and I could barely see the dingy which was hurrying back to the submarine. They would be able to deflate it this time and then return to the depths to wait for the flotilla of small boats and the floating bomb. Once we reached the rocks we threw ourselves to the ground to take stock of our position. As we did so I heard voices. They sounded German and were coming from the rocks above us. I signalled for the others to remain still and I climbed up a little closer. They were German voices and the soldiers were complaining about the duty they had drawn. They thought they were being picked on. There were two of them. I risked going closer for if they were not looking out to sea then they might spot us when we moved behind their post. My hand felt concrete. It was a pill box and the men were inside. We could avoid that. We had been lucky. Had they looked out to sea they would have seen the submarine. I made my way back to the base of the point and waved the men to follow me.
We scrambled across the rocks which led to the coast road. We had to be beyond the road well before dawn. The coordinates of the position the 'Sturgeon' would take the following night were locked in my head. We would need daylight to accurately identify the place where we had to signal from but I knew we needed height first. Our rubber soled shoes made no noise as we ran along the road. There was a curfew in operation and I hoped we would see no one. To our left the ground rose and I spied a track. I led my men up it and we disappeared into the scrubby bushes and trees. I kept us heading east towards the gun emplacement which we knew lay close to our position. That would be our rough guide to the position of the submarine.
After a hundred and fifty yards I held up my hand. I dropped my Bergen and slipped through the undergrowth back to the road. I saw, just twenty yards to my right, the entrance to the gun emplacement. There was a barbed wire barrier. I could just make out, eighty or so yards closer to the sea, the concrete and sandbags which marked the position of the four huge 155mm guns. This would do. I returned to my men. Slinging my Bergen on to one shoulder I looked around for somewhere to hide.
We moved deeper and higher across the scrubby ground. We left the trail. We did not want to risk someone stumbling upon us. I spied a bush which was thicker than the others. Kneeling down I found that I could raise the lower limbs of the bush. There was no growth lower down towards the bole and it looked big enough for the four of us. I waved them underneath. Ken and Polly held up the branches so that I could follow them. There were no leaves close to the base of this hedgerow and we could sit up if we wanted. I risked snapping off a couple of the thinner, dead twigs. They made less noise than I had feared and they gave us more room.
We had seen no one and I risked speaking quietly to them. “The gun emplacement is just over the road. Tomorrow morning I will go and find the exact spot we have to watch. We use the camouflage nets to mask us even more. I don’t think anyone will give this bush a second glance. I will get my head down first. I want waking at dawn.”
“Right Sarge.”
It did not take long to rig two of the nets to cover the inside of the front of the hide. It was cosy beneath the huge bush which had not been cut since it had grown, goodness knows how many years earlier. We used our Bergens as pillows and kept our Thompsons close to hand. I left Ken to organise the rota and I slept. The traumatic journey on the submarine had not resulted in a decent sleep. Here on terra firma, beneath the scrubby bush I slept the sleep of the dead.
When Polly shook me awake I was alert in an instant. I nodded to him and, after swallowing a mouthful of water I placed my Thompson next to my Bergen and rolled out from beneath the net. It was dawn but only just. It was that thin grey light between dark and light. The light was perfect for skulking around. I drew my Luger and headed down the slight slope towards the road. I knew that the 'Sturgeon' would be a couple of miles offshore. It would be hard to see in the dark which was why we had brought binoculars. I needed to find a vantage point close to the flak guns. The submarine would be south west of that position. All I would need to do was find the shape of the submarine and wait for the flotilla to hove into view.
I stopped and hid in the ditch when I heard the German voices. I looked up and saw thirty yards from my position, the entrance to the gun emplacement. This morning, however, there were two sentries there. The barrier I had seen last night had been removed. I also saw a sign. It identified this as the Headquarters of the coastal artillery. We had not known that. A car approached from the west and the two sentries held their hand up to stop it. I took the opportunity to roll out of the ditch and disappear behind the hedge again. I continued east to find the flak.
The flak battery was easy to spot. They had cleared the ground around it. The emplacement lay just forty yards from the road. There were tents, for the gun crews I imagined, and a Kubelwagen. I could smell the coffee as they prepared for another day. I checked my map again and used my compass to establish the correct bearing. It was the right place. When it was time we could wait here to see if the submarine had reached the rendezvous successfully. Taking out my dagger I put a Free French Cross on the tree which was in direct line with the spot the submarine would surface. It would identify the place for me and yet would appear to be the work of locals. The spot the submarine would surface seemed a long way away. I slipped back up the hill and reached the bush. I knew that my comrades were hidden there but I could see nothing. I felt satisfied. We would be safe hidden there but it would be a long day to wait.
I raised the lower branches and slipped under. I found myself facing two Thompsons. I held my hands in mock surrender. It was still early and I risked speaking again. “I have marked a tree with a Free French Cross. We have to be careful. The German Artillery headquarters is close to the big battery and is not far away. You lads can sleep if you like. I am staying awake.”
Polly and Harry took the chance of more sleep but Ken stayed awake. We ate some rations and drank water. Dehydration could be a problem. We needed to drink regularly. I watched the day as it became lighter through the netting. We watched animals as they either returned to their burrows or rose to feed. We were so still that birds ate the insects which were on the bush while others gathered twigs to build nests. Even in a war life went on.
I used the time to go through our plans in my head. The flotilla was out at sea now. The submarine would surface at 22.00 hours. Once we saw it then our work was done but I had decided to wait until we actually saw the ships. The ships should be in position and ready to enter the Loire by 22.15. They were the plans but as we all knew they could go wrong. It was a long way from Falmouth to St. Nazaire and the flotilla would be sailing during daylight. Anything could happen: aeroplanes, ships, submarines. I knew that there were plans to deceive the German gunners. I hoped they would work but if they did not then the flotilla of launches would be sitting ducks. The flak guns could depress and add their firepower. I knew that I was deviating from the plan when I began to work out how to disrupt the gunners should they fire. I had seen the wreck of the 'Lancastria' sunk in 1940 and I did not want the 'Campelltown' to suffer the same fate. The attack on the bridge could wait; the flotilla had to get beyond these guardians of the estuary.
We heard people in the woods at about noon but saw nothing. I deduced they were foragers picking mushrooms, wild greens and herbs from the scrubland. The other two awoke and we ate. I was luckier than they were. I had taken the opportunity to relieve myself on the way back from my dawn walk. They would be desperate. As soon as it was dark we slipped out from under our den. We had four hours to get in position and await the submarine. They would be four long hours.
Although I had made the journey earlier that morning it was more difficult in the dark. There were also more people around. The road which passed the headquarters and the flak emplacement were busier. There were vehicles and people moving along. Before the war they might have used a bus to get to St. Nazaire and back to their homes. Now they walked. Every time we heard something we dropped to all fours and hid. It made the journey much longer. Finally I saw the mark I had made on the tree. I took off my Bergen and removed the binoculars. I hung them around my neck. I scanned the sea from beneath the green canopy. I saw the navigation lights of trawlers as they returned to port. Of the submarine there was no sign.
We checked our guns once more. We drank more water and we ate more rations. We waited. We watched the fingers of the clock as they moved slowly around. The traffic below us became a trickle. Ken checked on the guards at the headquarters. He discovered that they came on duty at eight. I presumed that was when the night crew took over. As the hour of ten drew close we peered anxiously out to sea. At nine forty I saw something rise from the water. Had I not been looking for it I would not have seen it. They were good binoculars; Quarter Master Grant had kept them especially for me. Apparently Captain Grenville had ordered them. Had I not been looking on the correct bearing I might have missed the periscope as it rose from the sea. I saw the ripples first and then the stick like black shape. It was the flurry of foam at the base which confirmed it was the submarine. Having been on a submarine I knew the procedure. Lieutenant Wingfield would ensure the sea was clear before he came up. Sure enough I saw the tell tale bubbles as the tanks were partly emptied and the conning tower appeared. Again, its size was so small as to be almost indistinguishable from the sea. We could have gone then but I waited.
“Sub is here. We will wait for the flotilla. I want to make sure everything is going to plan.” It should not be a long wait and I thought the risk worth taking.
Time seemed to drag. I had to keep removing the glasses to keep my eyes from watering. I had just peered through them when I saw a flash from the submarine. I barely caught it. I traversed the binoculars to sea but saw nothing. I checked my watch and saw that it was 22.15. The flotilla should be close. I wanted to cheer when I saw the dark shape of the old American destroyer. It was barely visible but the dark shape was there.
“They are here.”
“What do we do now, Sarge? Head to the bridge?”
“It is less than a mile. We have no need to go yet. Let’s wait until they pass the guns here. We might be able to help the lads out.”
“But Sarge, our orders are to go to the bridge.”
“We are commandos, Ken. We improvise. It is my decision.”
I looked again and saw that Lieutenant Wingfield was bravely keeping station at Point Z. His position would confirm the channel and make it easier for the ships to strike their target. As soon as he began to submerge I knew that the flotilla was on course. I put the binoculars inside my battle dress. I might need them again. “Right lads. Let’s get to the artillery headquarters. Gowland and Poulson, when we get there take out the sentries.”
“Right Sarge.”
We moved back through the bushes to the road. It was pitch black but we knew where the sentries were. While my two men slipped across the road Curtis and I moved to a position to cover the entrance. It was 22.45. The attack was timed to begin after 01.00 hours. The boats and ship had a gauntlet of guns to run. I had my Thompson slung and my Luger in my hand. Ken had his bola ready. We did not need either. Our two men used the Japanese stranglehold and the sentries were incapacitated. While they were trussed like chickens Ken and I took their potato mashers and rigged a booby trap across the entrance.
We moved down the track which led to the emplacement. The ground had been cleared and we could see out to sea. I took out the binoculars. The flotilla was approaching the entrance to the Loire. I waved my hand to the left and the right. The other three scurried off in the dark. I could hear, below us, in the concrete emplacement, the sound of music. The gun crews had a radio playing. Further down, close to the edge of the rock face I saw the sentries. They had their backs to me and were staring out to sea. Without binoculars and being lower down they would not see the ships. Soon, however they would for the flotilla would have to come towards this shore. The twin lines of boats would have to sail between two sets of sand banks, Les Jardinets and Le Vert. it would bring them within seven hundred yards of the shore and the deadly batteries.
My three men came back. Through hand signals I discovered that the two guards I had seen were the only ones. Ken pointed to the east and we followed. He led us to the ammunition store. It was well away from the guns, for obvious reasons. It was unlocked. I signalled for Poulson and Gowland to rig a booby trap in the door. When the Germans opened it they would set off the bombs. It was a risk but I reasoned that they would only need to open the store if they were firing. If they were firing it would be because they had seen the flotilla.
As midnight approached we headed back towards the emplacement and then we heard them. It was the drone of bombers approaching from the west. The sirens went off and we ducked down to hide behind the bins which were there. An officer came out, with binoculars, if he looked to sea I would have to kill him but he did not. He stared up at the sky. A sergeant came out.
“It looks like St. Nazaire is going to get it tonight. Telephone the Twenty Second Naval Flak Battery. Those dozy bastards will probably be asleep.”
“Should I have the gun crews stand to and load the guns, sir?”
“Have them stand to but this is an air raid. I will go to the communication centre and tell Kapitan Diekmann. He is probably awake now anyway.”
The two of them disappeared. To our left the flak guns opened up and the sky was lit up with tracer and exploding shells. The bombers were too high for me to identify them save that they were twin engined. I looked out to sea. The flotilla was now almost at the sand banks. I turned around and saw that the bombers were just flying over St. Nazaire. It was proving effective. Every eye and pair of glasses would be drawn to the skies and away from the sea.
There was a flash of light as the door of the gun emplacement opened. We ducked down again. Two Germans came out to relieve themselves. “Kapitan Diekmann is not in a good mood is he, Hans?”
“I don’t think he likes being woken up. Still he is right it is a strange air raid. They are just flying around and not dropping any bombs.”
“Lieutenant Kobbel thinks the Tommies might be invading and the air raid is a ruse.”
The other one laughed, “The Tommies are finished. We are chasing them out of Africa and they are only waiting for the Americans to join them. They have not enough ships to invade us.”
The door opened again and the sergeant’s voice bellowed out. “When you two have quite finished the Kapitan has ordered everyone to scan the horizon!”
A few minutes after the door had shut we heard the guns stop. They were no longer firing at the aeroplanes. That was ominous. I looked at my watch. It was one o’clock. I could not see the boats because of the buildings between us but I guessed that the flotilla would almost be at the sandbanks; perhaps even past them. They would be less than thirty minutes from the dock gates. I pointed east. The ships had not been spotted. We would go and help to capture the bridge. We made our way back to the road. I reckoned we had between one and two miles to go to get to the bridge. We avoided our booby traps and began to double down the road. There were no civilians about. I daresay they were sheltering from the bombs which had not been dropped.
We passed the flak guns and could smell the cordite in the air. Turning left along the coast road I saw the flotilla. They looked close enough to touch. The old American destroyer led two columns of launches towards the dock gates. It looked as though they had done it. Then suddenly searchlights played across the water and illuminated the boats. Guns opened fire at the flotilla. I saw the German flag flying from the destroyer. A signal lamp flashed from the bridge and was answered from the guns below us. I held up my hand and we stopped. I waved my men down towards the searchlight and flak emplacements which were just yards from the river.
The guns, miraculously, stopped firing and then a moment later all hell broke loose. Even the large guns at La Chémoulin opened fire too. I cursed. Had we waited just a little while longer then we could have attacked the guns and disrupted their fire. Battle flags mushroomed on the flotilla as they returned their fire. I took out a grenade, “Right lads let’s knock out this searchlight and upset these Jerries.”
The Germans were less than thirty yards from us. Although protected by sandbags they were below us and had no idea we were there. We hurled the four grenades high in the air. They exploded in the air and we were up, on our feet as soon as the wave of concussion had passed over us. I fired a short burst from my Thompson into the carnage of the emplacement. To my right I heard a dull double thump. The booby trap on the ammunition had exploded at the German battery. Suddenly a sheet of flame leapt into the air as the magazine exploded. That would disrupt their firing. Ken Curtis sprayed the searchlight and it went out instantly. In the dark we could hear the moaning of the wounded and the dying. The crew of the searchlight had all been incapacitated or killed.
We had done all that we could and we ran back up the slope towards the road and St. Nazaire. We ran with guns cradled in our arms. If we saw any Germans we would fire instantly. I saw that the flotilla was pouring their fire into a small guard ship which was being riddled with fire. The 'Campbelltown' however was also being targeted by every gun the Germans had. The gun on the foredeck disappeared as a shell hit it. The bridge was being targeted by every gun the Germans possessed and yet the ship still headed towards the gates. And then the flotilla was through the narrow entrance to the river proper. St. Nazaire’s Normandie dock was less than a mile away. I saw one of the MLs hit and as it burned I saw sailors and commandos leaping into the water. A second ML stopped to pick them up and it was struck by tracer. We were too far away to help.
Poulson suddenly called out a warning, “Sir lorry!”
I turned in time to see a German truck barrelling down the road towards St. Nazaire. I dropped to one knee and began firing my Thompson in short bursts. The other three joined in. Although the truck was hurtling towards us none of us faltered. As I emptied my magazine the truck lurched to its right as the driver was hit and it plunged off the road to plough into the gun and searchlight emplacements below us. I turned and led the men towards St. Nazaire. I changed magazines as I did so. To my right I heard an enormous crash which accompanied grinding metal. I didn’t know it at the time but the 'Campbelltown' had struck the dock gates. The Navy had done its job and now it was the turn of the commandos to do theirs. I looked at my watch, it was thirty four minutes past one. The attack and the raid had begun.