Table Of ContentOriginally published in 1957 by
Chatto & Windus Ltd, London
The new edition first published 2009 by
Grub Street, 4 Rainham Close, London SW11 6SS
© Grub Street 2009
© Text Ralph Barker 2009
British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data
Barker, Ralph, 1917-
Ship busters!: a classic account of RAF torpedo-bombers in WWII.
1. Great Britain, Royal Air Force – History – World War,
1939-1945. 2. World War, 1939-1945 – Aerial operations, British.
I. Title
940.5′44941-dc22
ISBN: 9781906502294
EPUB ISBN: 9781909166684
Printed and bound by MPG Ltd, Bodmin, Cornwall
Grub Street only uses Forest Stewardship Council (FSC)
paper for its books.
The author and publisher are hugely indebted to Roger Haywood for
supplying most of the images used in this publication. Also thanks
to Lawrie Evans for his assistance.
CONTENTS
Preamble: The Beauforts
Prologue
1 The Curtain Raiser
2 The Rover
3 The Million-to-one Chance 4 Training and Psychology
5 The Unique Opportunity
6 The Beaufort Attacks on the Scharnhorst and Gneisenau
Photo Gallery
7 The Attack on the Prinz Eugen
8 Torpedoes in the Med
9 The June Malta Convoy
10 Taranto to Benghazi
11 Before the August Convoy
12 Ten Days to Alam el Halfa
13 Rommel’s Last Tanker
14 The Strike Wings in the U.K.
Epilogue
Index
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
For most of the material used in the writing of this book I am indebted to the
survivors of the anti-shipping squadrons, who have been most generous and enthusiastic in
their help. I must also gratefully acknowledge the access I have been given by the Air
Ministry to various operational records.
For background I have consulted the following books and publications:—Not Peace
but a Sword, by Wing Commander R. P. M. Gibbs, D.S.O., D.F.C. (Cassell); The Rommel
Papers, edited by B. H. Liddell Hart (Collins); The First and the Last, by Adolf Galland
(Methuen); The Second World War, by Winston Churchill (Cassell); Royal Air Force
1939-1945, by Denis Richards and Hilary St.G. Saunders (H.M.S.O.). Permission to quote
from Cmd. Paper 6775 (the Report of the Board of Enquiry into the escape of the
Scharnhorst, Gneisenau and Prinz Eugen from Brest) is acknowledged to the Controller of
H.M. Stationery Office.
I should perhaps add that the narrative treatment and the opinions expressed are
entirely my own.
RALPH BARKER
PREAMBLE: THE BEAUFORTS
They met at Chivenor. Chivenor, near Barnstaple, in North Devon. The pilot was an
Australian, Dick Marshall, a sergeant, wearing the dark-blue uniform of an Australian
volunteer, magnificently built, with a jutting jaw. Beginning his training in Canada, that
prognathous jaw, reminiscent of the hulking North American elk or moose, coupled with
the Canadian town of Moose-Jaw, inevitably led to the nickname of ‘Moose’. The name
stuck. He was always ‘Moose’ Marshall from then on. His navigator, ‘Tommy’ Thompson,
a New Zealander, built like an All-Blacks rugby three-quarter, was a gentle giant, if
anything even bigger than Moose was. Even in the melee of expectant aircrew on view at
Chivenor, pilots, navigators, radio-operators and air-gunners, they made an outstanding
pair. They had been posted to fly Beauforts, a development of the Bristol Blenheim, but
more modern and faster, armed with the 18-inch torpedo, ostensibly for sinking ships at
sea. Bombing, mine-laying, and reconnaissance were accessory feats, but the principal
weapon was the torpedo.
What did the powers-that-be expect of the aerial torpedo? Air Ministry compared it
unfavourably with the wielder of any other wartime weapon: one man in six might
survive.
They would need a crew of four – a wireless-operator and an air-gunner, one to find
their way round, the other for protection. The tasks were to be filled by two WOP/AGs,
one manning the twin-Brownings gun-turret, halfway along the fuselage, the other, going
into action, manning the waist guns. But where were they? A block of trainees had arrived
at Chivenor, fully-trained in radio, but the gunnery schools were full, and most had arrived
minus a gunnery course. Once having taken it, they found themselves promoted and in the
Sergeant’s Mess. There, two southerners caught the eye of the friendly Thompson, who
turned out to be a chum of Moose Marshall. Mostly it was the gunners, looking for
someone who might not kill them, who chose the crew.
Thus ‘Doggie’ Doggett, a young apprentice with de Havillands, and 19-year-old
Lawrie Evans, a Surrey man, working in Fleet Street, made up the requisite four. They had
both left school at sixteen, and with the giant Marshall and Thompson, they provided the
long and the short of it: they were both five-foot-six.
Doggie and Lawrie joined Marshall and Thompson and went right through the two-
month course at Chivenor. They had their evenings off, when they visited Barnstaple, or
Braunton Sands, or mingled with the holidaymakers at Ilfracombe, delighting when the
shrill voices of the children, from high on a promontory, sang the popular air ‘Johnny
Pedlar’. Then it was on to Abbotsinch, near Paisley, where they learned to aim dummy
torpedoes at naval targets. From there they graduated to a squadron – and were soon
earmarked for overseas. At the Overseas Aircraft Despatch Unit at Honeybourne, in
Worcestershire, they flew their final fuel consumption tests prior to the big trip – to
staging posts via Portreath (Cornwall), Gibraltar, Malta (now under siege), and thence to
the Middle East. Consumption tests, though, had their hazards.
They flew long hours over the Irish Sea to test their fuel consumption – but suddenly
the weather clamped. It was a foggy day, the met-man shouldn’t have sent them off, and
somewhere in the Midlands they began to look for a pinpoint. England in 1941 wasn’t like
England in 1944, when you couldn’t fly for five minutes without crossing an airfield. For
hour after hour they peered through the thickening fog – while static silenced the radio.
Getting short of petrol, Marshall looked for a field. It was just an ordinary farmer’s field,
with hedges that he hoped to circumvent, but in emergency it would have to do. He tried a
low run over the field, decided it would be enough, and landed.
The nearest airfield proved to be quite close – R.A.F. Meir, in Staffordshire. Meir –
and the farmer – were ready to help, and after a farmhouse tea, a guard was posted on the
aircraft. Next day, ‘scrambled egg’ types came out from Group, H.Q., and as the Beaufort
was undamaged, and Moose said, characteristically, “I’ll give it a go”, the whole crew, full
of confidence in Moose, elected to go with him. His was not the only near-disaster due to
the weather, strictly speaking they were at fault for getting lost, and the met-man, too, had
to answer some questions. Back at Honeybourne, faced with the possibility of disciplinary
action of some kind, and fearing a court of enquiry, the ‘scrambled egg’ at H.Q. decided to
hush the whole thing up. Lawrie Evans remembers that the incident was expunged from
their log books. Moose and crew took off soon afterwards for Portreath and the Middle
East, arriving eventually on posting at No. 39 Squadron in the Western Desert, at Landing
Ground 86.
In 1941 there had been a hiatus in the Desert war, relieved by Operation Crusader.
Malta still lay under siege, but 39 Squadron, rearmed with the Bristol Beaufort, had
recently moved into position, and were now 40 miles west of Alexandria. After digging
out their own accommodation under tents, they refreshed themselves in Alexandria.
Meanwhile the Afrika Korps, now under Rommel, were threatening a ‘big push’. The
Italian Fleet were alerted, and Rommel expected his push to take him to the Nile and
beyond, at the same time occupying Malta.
Lawrie Evans, from LG 86, now takes up the story.
“On March 26th we were warned to stand by for a strike, and we loaded up. We
assembled for a dawn take-off, but we crashed through engine failure. Our Beaufort
was wrecked, but fortunately it didn’t catch fire. Also we were lucky that the torpedo
didn’t go off. We then had another long wait for more aircraft, while Rommel’s
forces advanced beyond Tobruk, forcing us to move back to Sidi Barrani. But we
knew that the squadron was building up for something big. A strike was laid on to
deter the Italian Battle Fleet’s designs on the relief convoys. If we were to attack the
fleet, the aircraft would now be out of range of base and would have to land at
Malta.”
The Allied plan was to run two convoys to Malta, one from the west via Gibraltar, one
from the east from Alexandria, the latter to be covered by the Beauforts of 39 (see page
177). Another Beaufort squadron, No. 217, positioned at Malta, supposedly on its way to
Ceylon, had already done splendid work, despite heavy losses (see pages 178-182).
After moving up to Sidi Barrani, twelve Beauforts of 39 took off at 06.15 on 15th
June to intercept the Italian Fleet. Four vics of three Beauforts were led by Wing
Commander A.J. Mason, C.O. of the squadron, Flight Lieutenant Pat Gibbs, posted in
from Headquarters Middle East, Flight Lieutenant Alastair Taylor, and Flying Officer
Tony Leaning. Near the coast at Derna they were jumped by Me109s. Most crews were
completely unaware of their presence at first, until one Beaufort suddenly disappeared.
“All pilots,” says Lawrie, “thereupon slammed open their throttles and began violent
evasive action. I personally found it ineffectual to attempt to score against the 109s, with
my puny .303 Brownings. One aircraft crashed inshore.” He also tells the story of Lionel
Daffurn (see pages 184-185).
“With fuel consumption vastly increased during this pursuit, other pilots realised
they had no hope of reaching Malta and returned to base. After the 109s finally
departed, Mason found he only had 5 aircraft left. The remainder closed ranks and
steadfastly continued.
“When we were sighted by the Italians, their battleships opened fire with their
fifteen-inch armament, presuming that splashes from these giant shells would be
enough to bring down the Beauforts. Flak of every kind was hurled at our five
aircraft. Moose was throwing our plane all over the sky, sideslipping, climbing for
short spells, then diving away in a new direction. Suddenly the leading battleship
turned broadside on to the Beauforts, and all that was necessary was to aim steadily
and drop the torpedo.
“At that point both Gibbs’s and Moose’s aircraft were hit, and we lost rudder
control and hydraulics, and were forced to drop the torpedo too early. The sheer size
of the battleships led us into wrongly estimating our distance. No target so large had
ever been visualised by Beaufort crews during training.
“In the barrage of fire Tommy Thompson, exposed in the nose of the Beaufort,
was peppered with shrapnel, but he went on navigating, while Moose was forced to
concentrate on keeping us flying. Despite wallowing alarmingly, we managed to set
course for Malta.”
All five Beauforts survived to fly on to Malta. But Gibbs was in trouble, belly-landing his
Beaufort, and Moose, after using his emergency cartridges to lower his undercarriage, was
hampered by poor rudder controls, with very little hydraulic pressure for his brakes, and
he veered off the runway on landing and crashed into a 217 Squadron Beaufort which
earlier in the day had run out of petrol. Both caught fire. Somehow they managed to get
the wounded Thompson out.
Many Beauforts had been lost. None of the torpedoes had struck home. But they had
left their mark, and the Italian Fleet never put to sea again.
In place of Tommy Thompson, who had been with Moose since Chivenor days, they
substituted a navigator named Paterson. ‘Slap-happy’ Paterson was another Australian. He
was a personal friend and Bridge partner of Moose, from those impatient days when they
were waiting for aircraft at LG 86. They had suffered, too, together that night in
Alexandria (see pages 212-213). He stayed on – he was a fine navigator.
It was now that Gibbs’s proselytising of the Beaufort at Headquarters bore fruit. The
A.O.C. Malta hi-jacked the remnants of 217 Squadron, and Gibbs’s Beauforts, after losing
