ASSUMPTIONS AND PLANS
Jeschonnek puts on the pressure
By good fortune, Hans Jeschonnek, the Luftwaffe’s Chief of Staff, had arranged to visit Kesselring at the latter’s command post on the cliffs at Wissant on 30 June, and he had asked Sperrle of Luftflotte 3 to join them there. Looking out over the Channel at the cliffs of Dover as the air battle raged in the distance, they discussed current progress in their preparation for the invasion. Rather to their surprise, Kesselring had little to show them in the way of combat. A convoy had gone through during the night, but early morning reconnaissance had shown that shipping was giving a wide berth to the Straits of Dover and being diverted elsewhere. Free-chase missions by fighters had also faded away after they had come to blows with British fighters over Hythe, for the British had displayed an unusual disinclination to pursue the Messer-schmitts home – as previously had been their habit. Indeed, General W. Martini’s radio monitoring service had overheard the RAF controllers ordering their pilots to break off the engagement. It was now necessary, Kesselring asserted, to find fresh targets the enemy would feel bound to defend. But this, as Jeschonnek pointed out, could put the British under such pressure that they might come to expect the invasion at an earlier date than the Germans wished them to do. Within a couple of days, no doubt, the cat would be out of the bag when the main stream of German shipping began to flow towards the western invasion ports, but in the meantime every avoidance of alarming the enemy was a contribution to the achievement of surprise.
The Luftwaffe’s leaders had also to take into account the current state of balance in the air war. The efficient way the British fighters were being committed to battle and the existence of locating radar sets, which were better than their own, interested without worrying the Germans unduly. They tended to underestimate the effect of the system of control they could hear, believing it to be localized and not integral to a centralized organisation. And although the Germans realized that they were outmatched in this one aspect of technology and technique, they were also satisfied that the British Early Warning arrangements had defects. Their low-flying aircraft often got through undetected and sometimes the Fighter Controllers were heard in confusion, sending desperate counter-orders after things had gone wrong when, quite frequently, the expert German fighter leaders had outmanoeuvred their adversaries. They knew that, despite relatively heavy casualties among their bombers, the exchange rate in fighter casualties stood in their favour and that the achievement of surprise and superior numbers at the point of contact was more to their advantage than that of their opponents. Free-chase missions were proving effective, although it was hard to persevere with these when the bomber pilots complained plaintively to Goering, who tended to side with them, and ask that the fighters abandon the free-chase and fly instead as close escorts to the bombers.
All were agreed that it was essential to draw the RAF into major actions as a preliminary to the opening of the major assault on its airfields planned for 9 July, but Sperrle’s suggestion, that the airfields be attacked immediately, was overruled purely on the grounds that the deception plan might be compromised. Jeschonnek proposed, with Kesselring’s concurrence, that the attack on shipping be delivered henceforward on the widest possible frontage, and directed also against the naval ports, in particular Devonport, Portland, Portsmouth, Sheerness, Harwich and the Humber where the destroyers were known to berth by day.
Although to Dowding and his Group Commanders the change in the enemy pattern of operations was not immediately perceptible next day (the 1st), it was soon apparent that their opponents were in more deadly earnest than ever. After what looked like the customary build-up of a morning raid over the Pas de Calais, radar plots began to proliferate from Lands End to Kingston upon Hull. Within 20 minutes of their starting to close in, the largest air battle of the campaign had broken out on a wide front, with small formations of German bombers making for the naval dockyards while fighter packs ranged both close at hand and on wide sweeps, the latter endeavouring to forestall the British fighters as they clambered for altitude. A jumble of plots covered the controllers’ tables as Fighter Command found itself stretched. And while the balance of losses, both in this onslaught and those which followed, was like that of the previous day, it was disconcerting to find that the enemy bombers had several times reached their targets. Small ships had been damaged at Hull, Harwich and Devonport, and a destroyer was hard hit at Sheerness. At Portsmouth, in particular, extensive damage was inflicted on the dockyard facilities and in the nearby town. Sheerness had escaped harm when the raiders were driven off, but an enterprising He 111 Staffel had bombed RAF Station Hornchurch and caused extensive damage to buildings and some aircraft on the ground at this important Sector Station.
To the British, the inference drawn from the air fighting on 1 July was of a shift in the weight of attack from the Straits of Dover to East Anglia, to add conviction to the appreciation that it was here the main enemy invasion would be made. German minelaying that night in the Thames Estuary, and an attack by S boats, cruising in silence in the darkness of a moonless night, on a convoy off Southwold reinforced that contention, particularly when aircraft of Coastal Command returned from patrolling between the Hook of Holland and Ostend to say they had seen a number of small craft entering the mouth of the River Maas.1
Doubts in the Kriegsmarine
By this time, the German plans, incomplete though they may have appeared to many of those deputed to execute them, had reached an advanced state. A lack of confidence within the Kriegsmarine remained, but for the time being the attempt to block ‘Sealion’ had been abandoned, if only because the danger of an operation, forced on them against Raeder’s will, demanded every effort to mitigate its worse effects. Without the support of the other Services, whose enthusiasm was waxing, Raeder could not defy Hitler, who was adamant. So the sailors doggedly went about their duties of assembling the motley collection of Prahms, drifters, tugs and ferries before sending them by sea and inland waterways to the assembly ports, commencing on the evening of 1/2 July. Ahead had gone minesweepers and escort craft such as the fast, armed R motor boats and the armed trawlers with their backing of destroyers. Rotterdam and Antwerp were first to harbour the fleet, then successively Ostend, Dunkirk and Calais, followed at the last moment by Boulogne on 10 July. Thus the impression imparted to the British, that the West Country and the south-east coast were not seriously threatened, was maintained to the last.
The main fighting elements of the Kriegsmarine were divided into two wings. That to the westward comprised 15 U-boats and ten destroyers whose task was to harass British attempts against the western flank of the invasion. The eastward wing was the strongest, consisting of six U-boats and the remainder of the major surface units: they were to escort the invasion fleet, hold off the Royal Navy units in the North Sea and provide such bombardment facilities as they could spare during the actual landing. From the start this looked too tall an order, for they would be outnumbered in every department, their existence in peril the moment they cleared the shoals off the Belgian coast after leaving Antwerp. The sole comfort lay in being able to read about 30 per cent of the British Admiralty’s Fleet ciphers (which they had been doing for some time past) and therefore to know sufficiently what countermeasures the enemy contemplated.2
How to provide fire support at the moment of landing caused much concern. It was realized that this was the moment of maximum peril, and that even a weak enemy, who was not under fire, could wreak havoc during disembarkation. The cross-Channel guns would make a contribution and engage British guns, but their rate of fire and accuracy were neither all-destructive nor suppressive against the landing sites, upon which they would finally play just prior to the assault. All that the Kriegsmarine could offer in the way of heavy fire support would come from the 11 in guns of the old battleships Schlesien and Schleswig Holstein. It was Lütjens’s idea to position them, aground if necessary on the Varne, to act as floating batteries for the dual purpose of supporting the landings and helping to deal with enemy ships approaching from the north.3 Inevitably, the programme of direct fire support was of an improvised nature, provided by ex naval and artillery pieces mounted on Prahms and other shallow draught coasters, and supplemented by the Luftwaffe’s 88mm guns on the Siebel ferries whose task it also was to deposit those guns on the enemy shore once a lodgement had been made. Practice had demonstrated the impossibility of producing accurate fire from small ships against pin-point targets. It was cheerfully hoped that the noise would simultaneously frighten the enemy while encouraging the German troops; destructive effects would be a bonus.
Reservations among the generals
Nobody on the German side underrated the British fighting spirit. From experience, the commanders and staff of Generaloberst Gerd Von Rundstedt’s Army Group A (which had overall responsibility for the land operations) expected a tough fight and realized that they could not rely on simply cowing the enemy. Believing that the most potent bombardment force actually needed to destroy the enemy during the opening phases of the attack would have to be bombers, particularly dive-bombers, they were uncomfortably aware that these aircraft were proving extremely vulnerable to British fighters. Therefore, von Rundstedt insisted, it was essential that the air be totally cleared of RAF fighters before his troops stepped ashore.
Confidence among the airmen
The Luftwaffe’s plan was governed by a timetable which was geared to the optimum conditions of tides and light, although it was capable also of accepting slight variations to fit in with variable weather conditions. On 1 July, S Day stayed fixed at 13 July and, therefore, the moment for the all-out assault on the RAF airfields, which was programmed for S minus 5, was set for 8 July. By then, it was assumed, the RAF fighter strength would be sufficiently depleted to permit the initial strike against radar installations and the forward airfields to be executed against relatively light opposition. Thereafter it was intended to tackle the inland airfields and, progressively, like a creeping artillery barrage, destroy by S minus 1 (12 July) the roots of RAF power, making it impossible for the British to mount serious resistance in the vicinity of the coastal belt. On S minus 1, therefore, operations would enter their next phase; while pressure would be maintained against Fighter Command by means of harassing raids on airfields and by fighter sweeps, the preponderance of the bomber effort would be switched to softening-up the selected beachhead zone by attacks against known targets between Dover and Dymchurch, which had not been allocated to the Channel guns, as well as against the defences of Mansion, Lympne and Hawkinge airfields.
The leading echelons of 500 transport aircraft carrying the airborne divisions to their dropping zones would take off from their bases and link up with the force of DFS 230 assault gliders and their tugs, which had been assembled secretly on an airfield in France. Simultaneously, the 150 Fiesler Storch monoplanes would rendezvous with their passengers at an airfield close to Lille. The tasks of the airborne troops, upon whom the establishment of a bridgehead chiefly depended, were to seize dominating ground immediately adjacent to the beaches selected for seaborn assault, to knock out the known coastal battery positions and quickly take possession of fields from which transport aircraft could land and take-off. Bearing in mind that the landing of troops amidst heavily defended areas during the invasion of Holland had been costly in machines and men, Generalmajor Putzier (the overall airborne commander) decided that, except in the case of special coup de main parties, the main assault would avoid such well protected places as airfields and, instead, land nearby and capture them on foot. Remembering, too, the possibility of the parachute units becoming scattered by attempting to seize too many objectives simultaneously, he decided to concentrate on two main sectors and capture them by the sheer mass of one parachute regiment arriving on each, while the third regiment was brought forward into France, but held back in reserve. Special missions by gliderborne infantry and engineers would attempt to repeat their performance of 10 May, when they had knocked out the Belgian forts of Eban Emael. They would try to land on top of the Langdon and Citadel Batteries on either side of Dover, and deposit infantry on the cliff tops near Aycliff and above Lydden Spout so as to dominate the beaches below. 19th Parachute Regiment would land on the wide open spaces between West Hougham and Hawkinge and from there move to the aid of the glider troops, mount an assault on Hawkinge and develop air-strips from which Ju 52s could operate. 20th Parachute Regiment would drop behind Hythe, in the triangle Newington. Sene Golf Course and Sandling Station, and seize the ridge overlooking the long sweep of open beaches between Sand-gate and Hythe, so as to take in rear the beach defence, cut the main A20 road from the west and threaten Lympne airfield. It was then intended to bring in 21st Parachute Regiment to any one of these localities, and for 22nd Air Landing Division to be brought in by stages from airfields in France to the vicinity of Hawkinge with a view to advancing in the direction of Canterbury to the north and capturing the Postling – Elham ridge. Everything possible was to be done to confuse the enemy. Dummy parachutists were to be scattered over a wide surrounding zone and parties from Infanterie Regiment Grossdeutschland were to be landed in Storches on the northern periphery of the main airfield to occupy communication centres, cause confusion and disrupt the movement of enemy reserves. Of particular concern to this group was the immediate elimination of anti-aircraft guns, which had already been pin-pointed as the prime defenders of Hawkinge airfield. But a plan to send in special raiding parties, from the Abwehr’s Special Unit 800, to prevent blockships being sunk in the entrances to Dover harbour was cancelled when it was noticed that the British had already begun this task of denial.
From the outset it was realized by the Germans that foul weather and severe tidal conditions could disrupt the seaborne assault, even if it still remained possible to fly in the airborne echelon, and even if the enemy resistance were beaten down to a minimum. The handling of small craft, many of them inherently unwieldy, would be difficult in any conditions. Under enemy fire and in the hands of inexperienced seamen, who had been granted scanty time for training and rehearsal, the prospects of chaos were immeasurably greater. The survival of the seaborne divisions in Generalleutnant Heinrich von Vietinghoff’s XIII Corps depended on the determination of the sailors in getting their craft ashore, and the hope that, in the turmoil, a sufficient number of soldiers would bind themselves into knots of aggressive resistance to win room for the succeeding waves of troops to assemble, prior to advancing boldly inland. Although the maintenance of strict orthodox formations was the aim, Ruge’s belief that Formation ‘Pig Pile’ would prevail was never far away from the thoughts of both planners and executants.
High water on Saturday 13 July would be at 0459 hours, nearly two hours after first light. To take advantage, therefore, of the weaker neap tidal streams at this moment, it was felt desirable to fix S Hour (the time at which the assault troops would touch the beaches) at 0430 hours. This would permit 1 1/2 hours of daylight for a heavy artillery and air bombardment of the beach defences, and would be timed about an hour after the paratroops had landed (scheduled for 0315 hours, at S minus 75 minutes). These arrangements would allow the naval convoys to cross the Straits through previously swept channels in comparative darkness. They also gave scope to postpone the operation by three days should the need arise. Preceded by minesweepers and escorted by destroyers, S boats and coasters, the heterogeneous convoys of German beach assault craft were intended to arrive within two miles of their destination, where they would form up for the final run in. Both the 6th Mountain Division (Generalmajor Ferdinand Schoerner), on the right, and the 17th Infantry Division (General-major Herbert Loch), on the left, planned to land on a tworegimental front, each with a leading wave of 650 men, who would be carried close to the shore in minesweeper fishing boats before transferring to fast rubber storm boats powered by outboard motors. Close behind would follow a second wave of similar size, but carried in motorized Prahms. In this second wave, along with motor coasters and Siebel ferries, mounting 37mm anti-tank guns, 75mm field guns and 88mm dual-purpose guns, would sail the special Prahms with extending ramps, carrying the deep wading tanks whose task was to appear out of the sea within a few minutes of the leading infantry going ashore.
The logistic survival of the Germans would depend very much on their ability quickly to clear a wide and deep bridgehead into which supplies and reinforcements could be delivered, safe from British observation and direct fire. The oft repeated watchword to the assault troops demanded: ‘Clear the beaches and drive for the heights,4 – then link up with the airborne forces.’ But it was also vital that they rapidly capture ports if the momentum of the advance was to be kept up, for both beach and air supply might well have embarrassing limitations.
Von Vietinghoff, with General Busch’s full approval, instructed 6th Mountain Division to swing right immediately after landing, so as to surround and capture Dover without delay, and take possession of the high ground on either side of Temple Ewell, astride the A2 main road. 17th Infantry Division was to link up with the paratroops near Hythe, prior to advancing left to capture Lympne airfield. It was also to complete the capture of Folkestone and reinforce the airborne soldiers as best it could in securing the high ground between Lyminge and Elham where a line of anti-tank guns was to be emplaced as a bulwark against the expected tank counter-attacks. To the rear of these objectives, the bridgehead could be consolidated by each division’s second echelon, by the arrival of 9th Panzer Division (on S plus 1) and the build-up of supplies by ships through the captured harbours. Once that had been accomplished, mobile operations could be aimed northwards on S plus 2 (15 July) with a view to seizing east Kent.
One among several imponderable contingencies particularly worried the German planners – the weather. Goering insisted on four days’ good weather as a prerequisite to opening the major air offensive. Equally important to him on S Day would be reasonably clear visibility and light breezes for the fly-in of the airborne formations. For the same reasons, Raeder and von Brauchitsch demanded smooth waters so as to give their forces a sporting chance of reaching the shore intact. But short-range weather forecasting, let alone long-term estimates, were always a gamble by the German meteorological branches, because the basic information at their disposal was sketchy. Apart from random reports from neutral ships, and the sparse information gathered daily by long-range flights over the Atlantic by Focke-Wulf Condors, there was little upon which to base accurate forecasts. Quite often surprise developments took place with the weather, causing radical last minute changes of plan, particularly for the Luftwaffe which depended very much on reasonable visibility to find its targets and return safely to base.
The Intelligence battle – the German view
Since, prior to the outbreak of war in September 1939, it had not been the prime intention of Germany to come to blows with Britain, low priority had been allocated to the gathering of Intelligence or to the planting of agents within the British Isles. The RAF’s fighter and bomber strength was known with some accuracy, but not the shortage of pilots. Luftwaffe Intelligence did not rate the RAF’s operational capability very high, dismissing the bomber force for its inaccuracy as of ‘nuisance value but [it] will in no way be decisive’ and seeing the fighters as inferior to the German fighters. The Luftwaffe,’ it was declared, ‘is clearly superior to the RAF as regards strength, equipment, training, command and location of bases.’5 And yet it was in some respects ignorant of its adversary, being unaware of the actual function of the various airfields it had located, and in the dark about the nature and efficiency of the fighter control system.
Rather similar conclusions could be drawn about the Germans’ knowledge of Britain’s land defences. They knew there were grave deficiencies of weapons and they were aware of the whereabouts of the central reserves and the coastal crust units. From this they deduced that the British had abandoned the idea of holding the coastal strip and would pin their hopes upon the mounting of a counter-attack with unified forces after the Army had landed. Of the beach defences they knew little, although aerial photographs were beginning to show where a few major works were in progress. They knew of the pre-war coastal battery sites, and had acquired, from recent experience, a detailed knowledge of anti-aircraft gun sites and their zones of fire.6 Four agents, sent in by sea, had been captured before they could transmit information, but a certain amount was being gleaned from foreign journalists who had been given permission by the British Ministry of Information to take photographs along the ‘invasion coast’ (to the indignation of some British journalists who were denied such facilities).7 Nothing the Germans found out led them to fear that the narrow-fronted assault which they had adopted would lead to disaster – unless, that is, things went badly for them at sea.
The deployment of the major units of the Royal Navy was also well known to the Germans, and from this they could quite accurately work out the strategy and tactics which might be employed once the direction of the invasion had become plain to the Admiralty. In other words, they visualized local interceptions in the early stages of the invasion being contained by their own light forces in the approaches to the Straits of Dover, and, thereafter, a much sterner battle against heavier units converging on the danger area – a threat which would be hard to contain even if the Luftwaffe measured up to its promises. Raeder planned to bring his cruisers and a pocket battleship (Admiral Scheer) from the Baltic to Wilhelmshaven on S Day minus 2, with a view to using them against the British light forces in the first phase of the battle. If the Gneisenau could be patched up in time, she would be sent against the British cruisers. ‘After that,’ Raeder bleakly remarked to Schniewind, ‘It will be in the lap of the Gods, but I do not expect to welcome home many of our ships if the British battleships are brought south from Scotland. It might have been different if both Scharnhorst and Gneisenau had been fit for action.’ By way of compensation, therefore, Raeder had to be content with deception measures, by the transmission of false radio signals to give the impression that both battlecruisers were fit for action and posed a deterrent, therefore, to the precipitous movement of British battleships against the Straits of Dover.
Meanwhile, the advantage of adopting the narrow instead of the broad-fronted approach were becoming daily more apparent to the German Naval authorities. With fewer craft and a smaller expanse of water to guard, the mining and escort problem was simplified and minimized. Also it made possible the elimination of towed Prahms from the assault; those would have been needed, despite their clumsiness, if the broad front had been adopted. Crewing was strengthened, and fewer inexperienced seamen were included. A smaller minelaying and minesweeping task placed a lighter load on the relatively few special vessels available; Ruge became increasingly confident that he could carry out his task, providing the preliminary operations were started on S minus 8 (they began, in fact, before that). With towed craft out of the reckoning, the problems of getting the unwieldy invasion fleet through the canal locks, through the harbours and out to sea was likely to be easier and quicker; furthermore, average speed of convoys at sea was raised from 3 to between 4 and 5 knots. As a result, the landing units on the longest voyage (Ostend to Dover) would take only about 14 hours to make the crossing and, therefore, loading need not begin until the morning of S minus 1, if they were to sail that afternoon in order to make landfall at sunrise next day. Those ships sailing from Calais and Boulogne, therefore, would not have to put to sea until last light, while those which put to sea earlier in daylight might easily be passed off as a routine commercial convoy.
The British remained miserably uncertain about German plans. Their air reconnaissance discovered only the most meagre information, much of it at a stiff price in aircraft as the German air defences improved. Few agents were properly established and their means of communication across the Channel were tenuous. A certain amount of German radio traffic, including a mass of talk between aircraft, provided useful information, particularly with regard to the orders sent out every evening to Luftwaffe units detailing operations for the next day, and the pre-raid testing of radios. But the operational instructions enabled Dowding to form only an outline picture of what was in store, and to take countermeasures of a general nature. For, in their approach to battle, the German commanders of the lower echelons had a habit of introducing tactical variations which could not be foreseen – even by those who had issued the original orders. In any case, only scraps of German long-term schemes could be heard over the air because the vast majority of planning took place in conference and through the passing of papers by hand and down land lines of communication. Ruefully, British Intelligence admitted that, until the first barges were detected moving towards Dunkirk on the night of 1 July, they had no inkling that an invasion might be imminent – and even then they steadfastly declined to draw positive conclusions from the first invasion convoy sightings.
At that moment, British Naval Intelligence held the view that at least 60 per cent of any invading fleet would have to come from the German ports, leaving only 25 per cent from those where it actually was coming from. On successive days, GS I (x) at GHQ Home Forces reiterated its conviction that the main invasion fleet must come from the Baltic ports, and on 11 July declared that The increase in shipping in Rotterdam and Amsterdam increases the potential threat to our coast north of the Thames. It also means that a part of the effort previously expected from the Baltic may now come from these ports.’ The Prime Minister persisted in his belief that Tt will be very difficult for the enemy to place large, well-equipped bodies of troops on the east coast of England …’ and that it would be ‘Even more unlikely … that the south coast would be attacked.’ The Chiefs of Staff concurred, worrying that the allocation of one third of their available divisions to the defence of the south coast was over-insurance. So, when reports arrived of shipping movements and the gathering of barges in the invasion ports, the Invasion Warning Sub-Committee (which had been set up on 31 May by the Joint Services Intelligence Committee) dismissed them as part of normal trade ‘perhaps to alleviate the problems caused by the blockage of canals and rivers’.8 Likewise, Vice-Admiral Ramsay’s Staff at Dover Command suggested that ‘some of the traffic might have destinations as far off as Spain or Portugal’.9 And in the same way, the Invasion Warning Sub-Committee brushed off a report on 1 July that all leave had been stopped in the German Army as ‘the sort of thing likely to happen in any Army’.10 Even if members of the War Office and Air Ministry Intelligence Directorates were far less sanguine, it remained a pernicious manifestation of the Joint Service Committee’s misappreciation that the Chiefs of Staff delayed switching the RAF’s bomber offensive from economic targets to those directly related to the invasion threat.
Dowding could no more afford to reinforce 11 Group than he dared to put at risk the vital industrial targets of the Midlands by taking fighters away from 10, 12 and 13 Groups, now that the enemy had air bases within easy range of the entire eastern and southern seaboards. He had also to pay heed to the Intelligence estimate of a greater threat to East Anglia than south-east England, and be careful not to be deflected into committing too high a proportion of his sparse forces in defence of a subsidiary sector. At this stage there was no chance of his destroying so preponderant a foe: he had to strive for deterrence through the infliction of disproportionate losses while conserving his strength for the ultimate day of reckoning when invasion came and everything would have to be thrown in. His policy was to employ squadrons in pairs instead of in big wings of four, such as had been deployed over Dunkirk. As a result, his pilots usually fought at a gross inferiority in numbers and more than 200 aircraft were lost between 5–7 July, as opposed to only 125 by the Luftwaffe: moreover, the ratio of fighter losses was RAF 73: Luftwaffe 95. This could not be allowed to continue, especially as it exceeded production.
The battle for the Straits is joined
On 7 July, the Chiefs of Staff at last conceded the likelihood of an imminent invasion and gave orders that enemy shipping now to be seen in the Channel ports was to be bombed as of first priority. In fact, they merely confirmed what had been practised the previous night when, in showery weather, Hampden and Blenheim bombers of Air-Marshal Sir Charles Portal’s Bomber Command had struck at Dunkirk and Calais. Observers and newspaper reporters on the cliffs above Dover saw the enemy coastline illuminated by flares, searchlights and gun and bomb flashes, and the stories they wrote tended to discredit the carefully censored, assuaging news of the intensive attacks being launched upon ‘The Invasion Ports’, as those harbours across the Channel were known to the public. Nobody who saw had any doubt that the real Battle for Britain had begun. All at once, the populace came to sense that invasion was near to hand. On the following night it was announced that the major part of Bomber Command, including its more powerful Wellingtons and Whitleys, had been committed to the attack upon the Invasion Ports and that, in addition, raids had been made on enemy airfields. Omitted from these reports was the fact that these attacks had been relatively ineffectual. It is true that some bombs did find targets, and that thirty or more barges and light craft were sunk or put out of action, but the attacks on enemy airfields were virtually a waste of effort. During the past month the latter had cost 30 bombers, but so rarely did the bomber crews find or reach their targets that they had destroyed only four German aircraft.11
Of more deadly portent to both sides was the intervention by the Royal Navy which joined in the bombardment by night, the cruisers and three destroyers from Sheerness venturing out at speed on 7/8 July to rain shells on Ostend and Dunkirk before returning safely to port to avoid the wrath of the Luftwaffe by day. The Kriegsmarine reacted immediately to this not unexpected British aggression. Unable to sail the invasion convoys in safety by night, they dispatched them through the Straits by day, in full view of the British, enjoying as they did the protection afforded by their batteries and air power.12
1st (London) Division prepares
On 1 July, with the Channel air battles in full blast, King George VI had visited Folkestone and Hawkinge to see the troops manning the defences, watch the fighters taking off and landing after action and hear the cheers of his people who had stuck grimly to their work and homes. He was accompanied by Liardet, for whose 1st (London) Division the testing time was nigh – and whose deployment was on the eve of adjustment. On 3 July, the division’s principal staff officer (GSO 1) had been changed, his successor having hurriedly to learn about the division and its task at the moment its HQ was moving to a new location near Ashford, and just as the 135th Brigade, covering Dymchurch, was reverting to command of the 45th Division.
This major reshuffle of Liardet’s forces was intended to make better use of reinforcements as they arrived. Within 2nd (London) Brigade, on 5 July, the 1st Queen’s Westminsters handed over to 1st Bn London Rifle Brigade (1st LRB) the responsibility for guarding Hawkinge and Lympne airfields, and themselves moved to Shepherdswell, north of Dover. 1st LRB sent a company to Arpinge (close by the west of Hawkinge) and at the same time was asked by Brigade HQ, to ‘consider moving remainder of troops from Horton Park to Sibton Park and Lyminge’. On the 10th, the 35th Infantry Brigade came under command and was sent to the Isle of Sheppey, thus permitting 1st (London) Brigade to relinquish part of its responsibility. But 35th Brigade was in no fit state for a serious encounter with the enemy, having barely recovered from a hammering by Guderian’s tanks at Abbeville in May, where it had been employed as a so-called ‘digging formation’ on lines of communication duties. It had been poorly armed then and was worse off now. Finally, on the 12th, the Training Battalion of the Irish Guards was sent to occupy the Citadel at Dover to defend the Western Heights. Trained and good soldiers as most of its men were, this was only an improvised unit whose arrival in the front line at the last moment would give it scarcely a chance of establishing a coherent defence or familiarizing itself with strange surroundings.13
In consequence of these redeployments, the ground defence of Kent was unsettled at a vital moment and, indeed, there had been a diminishment of the mobile forces giving immediate cover to the Folkestone sector. When Churchill visited the area on 11 July he had discovered ‘The plight to which we were reduced … The Brigadier [2nd Brigade] informed me that he had only three antitank guns in his brigade, covering four or five miles of this highly menaced coastline. He declared that he had only six rounds of ammunition for each gun, and he asked me with a slight air of challenge whether he was justified in ‘letting his men fire one single round for practice in order that they might at least know how the weapon worked. I replied that we could not afford practice rounds, and that fire should be held for the last moment at the closest range.’14
Perhaps it was with this in mind that Churchill minuted Sir Edward Bridges on the 13th: ‘I am receiving from various sources suggestions that there should be another day of prayer and humiliation. Will you kindly find out privately what is thought about this by the Archbishop.’15
On a more earthly level, the Prime Minister was shocked at an apparent waste of effort: ‘I fear that the troops are being used in large numbers on fortifications,’ he wrote to Eden, ‘At the present stage they should be drilling and training for at least eight hours a day, including one smart parade every morning.’16 But even as he wrote these lines it was apparent that the time for preparation was almost over and that, any day, the battle, which in the air was reaching its highest pitch of violence, would begin in earnest on the surface.
‘We place our trust in the Luftwaffe and the Kriegsmarine’
Three days before Churchill visited the south-east, there had been a top-level conference in Berlin, early in the morning of 8 July, to receive a report by the OKW of the Wehrmacht’s readiness to launch ‘Sealion’ and to designate the actual date when the Luftwaffe would settle upon ‘Eagle Day’, the commencement of the major assault upon the RAF. During the previous weeks, Hitler had been subjected at intervals to the fluctuating doubts and hopes of his closest advisers, but at all times, although tense with anxiety that he might this time have over-stepped the mark, and yet filled with hope that the British might save him trouble and sue for peace, he had maintained his aim. Admirals and Generals had to come to accept, some of them with fatalistic resignation, the Führer’s inflexible determination to take Britain by storm. As a result, the meeting resolved itself into a formal reporting session as each of the Commanders-in-Chief pronounced his degree of readiness for the attempt.
To no one’s surprise, von Brauchitsch had the fewest reservations. It was easier for the Army, it had ample men and equipment and the state of its training was excellent. ‘We place our trust in the Luftwaffe and the Kriegsmarine to deliver us safely to our destination,’ he declared, and there were those present who could not help wondering what the reckoning might be if, in the event, the Army found itself sunk at sea or abandoned upon a foreign shore. Grateful as its officers were to the Führer for having restored them to something approaching their previous dignity after the debacle of 1918, there were those within its hierarchy who despised the ‘jumped-up corporal’ and who railed against every risk he took.
To everybody’s surprise, however, Raeder exuded quiet confidence in the outcome. Although he had been heard to say disparagingly to one of his invasion fleet commanders, ‘Well how do you really expect to get over to England’,17 the chances of doing so and the favourable reports from officers such as Lütjens and Ruge had rubbed off. Moreover, the apparent withdrawal of British shipping from the Channel and evidence of the damage inflicted on enemy warships encouraged him to hope that, perhaps, the modern air weapon could be substituted for traditional surface forces. So Raeder presented a favourable report. There had been delays in the preparation of the landing craft, there were shortages of self-propelled Prahms as well as of escort craft, and extremely unfortunate was the lack of big ships to hold off a determined foray by the Royal Navy, which all knew must come. But there were sufficient reserves of Prahms to replace such losses as might be expected from bombardment of the mounting ports, and there seemed no reason to doubt that a lodgement would be made on the opposite shore – providing the weather was kind. ‘I would say go,’ concluded Raeder as Keitel and Jodi on OKW’s behalf gave an almost audible sigh of relief.
His eyes shining, Hitler turned to Goering: ‘And what of the Luftwaffe?’ he asked.
‘Führer,’ announced the Field Marshal, ‘The Luftwaffe is ready and to-day, as a result of the operations carried out during the last three weeks, there are signs of collapse on the part of the enemy. I can confirm that, providing the weather holds good for four days, the work commenced will be completed. When our airborne divisions take off they will be supported by bombers and fighters which will be free to concentrate upon attacking ground targets. By then the enemy fighters will no longer be in a state to intervene in any strength’. The Field Marshal braced them all by his robust assurance. It mattered not, at this moment, that he held the opinion that ‘Sealion’ must not disturb or burden the Luftwaffe operations: as things stood, this loosely expressed opinion of his meant the same to them all. Goering spoke again: ‘Only one thing remains to be fixed, my Führer – the date for Eagle Day. What can the weather forecasters tell us? Can we rely upon there being four or five days of good flying weather before us?’
‘And, for that matter, can we be sure that those good days will be followed by several more with smooth seas?’ interjected Raeder.
Jodi read the lastest forecast which had just been prepared. It was reasonably optimistic, even though minor troughs of low pressure were thought to be approaching from the west. Outside the sun shone although over the Channel that day it had become dull with showers developing – none of them bad enough to curtail flying.
‘Then I too would say go,’ said the Führer, who had satisfied himself before the conference that the conditions fulfilled the minimum required by all three Services. ‘Let Eagle Day be tomorrow the 9th, and S Day for ‘Sealion’ Saturday the 13th.’ Then, as if to emphasise his realization of the perils that lay ahead, he pronounced to his Commanders the words which had already been included in his Special Order for S Day to the Nation and the Wehrmacht :
‘In the accomplishment of so crucial an enterprise as we are embarked on and upon which the fate of Europe, of Germany and probably the World hangs, great risks have had to be taken and, if necessary, high sacrifices made. Historic issues must be faced without flinching in the service of the cause we support.’