CHAPTER EIGHT
HMS Whitshed had recently escorted 20 Brigade across the Channel and indeed had carried Brigadier Fox-Pitt and his HQ staff to Boulogne but her association with the Irish Guards went back even further than that. It was the Whitshed which had evacuated the Headquarters Company of the composite battalion of Irish and Welsh Guards – ‘Harpoon Force’ – from the Hook of Holland a week earlier on 14 May. On that occasion the Irish had won the approval of the Whitshed’s officers for their discipline.
Now the Whitshed was to be associated with the Irish Guards for the third time that month. As she came alongside the Quai Chanzy and cleared a long shed near the Gare Maritime the naval officers on her bridge heard machine-gun fire which sounded very close indeed. One of those officers later wrote an account of what he saw that afternoon in Blackwood’s Magazine, quoted in the History of the Irish Guards in the Second World War.
‘A section of Irish Guards were engaging with rifle fire an enemy machine-gun post established in a warehouse, as coolly and methodically as if they had been on the practice ranges. “Tell the foremost guns to open fire”, the Captain yelled. The guns swung round and with a crash two 4.7 HE shells tore into the building and blew it to the skies. Meanwhile as the German infantry now passed ahead of their tanks and infiltrated closer and closer to the quays, the fine discipline of the Guards earned the awed, open-mouthed respect of all. Watching them in perfect order, moving exactly together, engaging target after target as though on parade ground drill, it was difficult to realise that this was the grim reality of battle. They were truly magnificent and no sailor who saw them could ever forget the feeling of pride he experienced.’
Naval landing parties went ashore and joined the Irish in defending the streets around the harbour whilst the embarkation of refugees, wounded soldiers, stragglers and AMPC personnel got under way. When she had loaded as many troops and refugees as possible the Whitshed put to sea bound for Dover and almost as soon as she had cleared the harbour HMS Keith and HMS Vimy began their approach. Lieutenant G J A Lumsden was the navigator on board the Keith.
‘As we entered harbour we passed a number of British and French destroyers bombarding the aerodrome, [at Cap d’Alprech] which was in German hands. Boulogne harbour is approached by a narrow channel between long stone piers with a kink to the right in the channel just before it enters the harbour proper: there is a small spinney to the left there and the close-packed town rises up the hillside to about 150 feet behind it and along the road lining the quay. We secured at the railway quay to starboard with Vimy outside us…The General commanding troops came aboard so that he could report a desperate situation to the War Office in London: he was ordered to hold the port to the last man. We could see a few of our soldiers in the spinney on the other side of the harbour and lying in the streets with Bren guns but the considerable number of Pioneer Corps men and fearful civilians on the quay alongside us were not so impressive. We embarked any wounded but no one else at this stage. Fifty years later our RNVR Midshipman told me that he had been ordered to find the Naval Officer in charge ashore; armed with a pistol he walked up the quay and round a building to find himself facing a German tank.’ Lieutenant G J A Lumsden. RN.1
Don Harris was aboard the Vimy and was proud of her service record. She was a ‘V and W’ class destroyer like the Whitshed, having been launched in 1917 and, along with other ships of the same class, had served in the latter stages of the First World War. The Vimy had sailed on into the Second World War with performances which, in Harris’s eyes, upheld a glorious tradition and gave the lie to the rather ungracious tag of her being part of the ‘scrap iron flotilla’. He too saw French ships of their 2nd Destroyer Flotilla under the command of Capitaine Urvoy Porzamparc firing on the advancing Germans.
‘On arrival we could clearly see large numbers of German Army advance units swarming down the high ground approaches leading to the city. They were being bombarded from offshore by four French destroyers. We signalled a request for one or two to accompany us into the port to evacuate troops, UK and French, plus numerous female nursing staff. The reply was a definite refusal, “no, it is suicidal to go in there, we will continue to bombard.” And so we proceeded into the narrow harbour…The wharf and railway station on our starboard side was packed with those hopeful of being evacuated. On our port side and in close proximity were hotels and various other business establishments. The advance German Army units were beginning to pick up our range and soon casualties from their light calibre shells were mounting at an alarming rate.’ Don Harris2
HMS Vimy.
Spotting for the German artillery – the Fieseler Storch.
Don Harris of HMS Vimy. Courtesy Mr R Summers
About an hour after the ships had berthed Lieutenant Lumsden looked up to see a Fieseler Storch reconnaissance plane flying slowly over the harbour. He told his Captain it meant trouble. A little later, at around 6.00pm, word came through that the War Office had changed its policy. In spite of the fact that General Lanquetot’s force was still intact and holding out behind the thick medieval ramparts of the Haute Ville, the British Government came to the unilateral conclusion that Boulogne was no longer defensible and the order for complete evacuation was passed on to Brigadier Fox-Pitt. Winston Churchill later conceded that he agreed to the evacuation of Boulogne ‘with reluctance’. The French government were not consulted and neither was General Lanquetot, nor would he receive any notice of British intentions. Indeed, the decision to evacuate merely added leverage to a rift in the French Government and armed forces and fanned the flames of anti-British sentiment amongst the mous, the ‘doves’, who had rallied behind Marshal Pétain and who were sceptical about the true value of Britain as an ally. In the eyes of Pétain’s anglophobic supporters the British were less than keen in their desire to fight the Germans to the last. The evacuation order had one further consequence. When the time came, a few days later, to decide on the fate of the British garrison in Calais, Churchill would recall the Boulogne decision. For the, ‘sake of Allied solidarity’ he would rule that there would be no evacuation from Calais. There, they would fight to the finish.
At Boulogne however, with the decision to evacuate made, Fox-Pitt was informed that destroyers would be sent in to take off the Guards. The race was now on. The Germans were closing in and his battalions could not hold out for very much longer without artillery support, air cover or effective anti-tank weapons but the quays were still thronged with people. The Brigadier decided that his battalions should hold their present line until the logjam on the quays could be thinned out. He hurriedly composed a message to be sent out to Lieutenant Colonels Stanier and Haydon.
‘Bde will evacuate BOULOGNE forthwith STOP All personnel of non-combatant units and other units now on quay will be evacuated first STOP 2 Irish Gds and 2 Welsh Gds will withdraw at Zero hour to be issued later STOP All HQ and reserves start withdrawing Zero-40 STOP Posns may be thinned out at Zero-30 STOP Posn to be finally abandoned at Zero STOP All ranks will embark on any destroyer available on arrival at quay. Time of origin 18.32.’ 3
He was on the point of sending the message out when the Luftwaffe, which had been bombing the harbour intermittently all day, struck in force in response to Guderian’s earlier plea. The German troops on the ground were overjoyed.
‘The officers are lying behind their scissors telescopes and observe the manoeuvres of the warships Again and again they look back and search the horizon in vain. Then, a look at the watch – 19.30 hours – a slight wail of sirens in a few minutes swelling to an ear deafening noise. Scarcely perceivable they soar above the ships like a dark cloud bringing death and ruin. The first, the second, the third – the eyes cannot follow the individual planes – dive through the dots of AA shell explosions down on their victims. Detonations, flashes, huge fountains, din of engines and away they go.’ Oberleutnant Dietz.4
The message from Brigadier Fox-Pitt to Lieutenant Colonel Haydon ordering the evacuation. Courtesy the estate of Miss Malise Haydon
Estimates of the number of planes involved vary but several accounts refer to a figure of between eighty and ninety machines involved in the raid. Lieutenant Lumsden was on the bridge of the Keith with his Captain, forty-seven year old David ‘Ginger’ Simson, a vastly experienced destroyer officer who was also in command of 19 Destroyer Flotilla. At home in England, Simson’s wife Arlette was ill in bed with chickenpox. In spite of this he had deliberately kissed her goodbye before leaving for this latest tour of duty. They had been married for just six months.
From the bridge Lumsden and Simson were observing the progress of people down the gangways and ladders leading to the Flag Deck below them, when Lumsden heard the unmistakable drone of approaching aircraft.
‘We heard and sighted a large force of aircraft approaching from the north-east, there were two forces of 30 Stuka dive-bombers each and a third force of 30 twin-engined bombers. The 30 twin-engined aircraft moved in to attack the area of the town which our soldiers held on the north side of the harbour opposite us and about 100 yards distant. To our astonishment just as they began to drop their bombs twelve RAF Spitfire fighters appeared from England and attacked them head-on, completely breaking up their attack. One squadron of 30 Stukas proceeded to attack the destroyers outside the harbour sinking a French and damaging a British destroyer. The remaining 30 Stukas in single line wheeled to a point about 2,000 feet above us and close to the south-west, and then poured down in a single stream to attack the crowded quay and our two destroyers. The only opposition to this…was scattered rifle fire…mostly from soldiers ashore and the single barrelled two-pounder pom-poms in each destroyer…As the attack began, with immediate and terrible effect on the quay, the Captain ordered bridge people below because the bridge was just above quay-level and therefore exposed to splinters from bombs bursting there. Finally he decided that, as we could do nothing useful, he and I would leave the bridge. I stood back to allow him down the bridge ladder to the wheelhouse, as courtesy and seniority demanded, but he signed me to precede him: no Captain likes to leave his bridge when under attack. I had taken one or two steps down when, alas, he fell down on top of me, shot in the chest by a German sniper’s bullet: it must have passed close to my head. We laid our Captain on the settee in the tiny charthouse immediately abaft the wheelhouse on the port side. The Doctor arrived and pronounced him dead.’ Lieutenant G J A Lumsden. RN. 5
Stukas – the scourge of the Allied destroyers.
Meanwhile the Vimy had also been loading its precious human cargo. During the operation her Captain, thirty-five year-old Lieutenant Commander Colin Donald, along with a Sub Lieutenant and Don Harris, had remained at key communications stations on the open bridge. The Vimy had taken about 700 people on board when she came under fire from the shore.
‘Automatic rifle fire distinct from the shell-fire had been heard from the bridge before I noticed our Captain train his binoculars on a hotel diagonally opposite but quite close to our ship. I heard another burst of firing from the snipers located in the hotel and then saw our Captain struck down. He fell onto his back and as I leaped to his aid I saw that a bullet had inflicted a frightful wound to his forehead, nose and eyes. He was choking in his own blood so I moved him onto his side, and it was then that I received his final order. It was, “get the First Lieutenant onto the bridge urgently”. As I rose to my feet more shots from the hotel swept the bridge and the Sub-Lieutenant fell directly in front of me. I glanced down at him and saw four bullet holes in line across his chest. He must have been dead before he hit the deck. On the upper deck I located the First Lieutenant and appraised him briefly of what had occurred. He immediately assumed command and ordered all securing lines cast off and full speed astern. He consulted me on the approximate location of the snipers in the nearby hotel and after I had given my opinion he ordered “A” gun’s crew up forward to bear on the target and fire a four inch shell at point blank range, no more than one hundred yards; the result was devastating indeed. Still at full speed astern we reached the outer limits of the harbour and then had to contend with German bombers. Our new temporary Captain performed a magnificent feat of seamanship as he manoeuvred his top heavy destroyer away from each attack. The planes broke away from us to attack the four French destroyers still at their task of bombarding the port. The first attack brought immediate results: the leading ship [L’Orage] suffered a direct hit and disappeared in a gigantic mushroom of flame and smoke. And so on to Dover to unload our human cargo, refuel, await a replacement Captain and try so very hard to get some precious sleep. Thus ended an episode which, the following day the London “Daily Mirror” reported under the banner headline, “THE HELL THAT WAS BOULOGNE”. Don Harris.6
The inner harbour had now become a seething cauldron of battle. To the screeching of the diving Stukas and the scream of falling bombs was added the roar of naval guns and the staccato rattle of small arms fire. Huge geysers of mud and water erupted from the harbour basin as bombs hit the water around the ships. Shell splinters and lethal chips of granite from the harbour walls flew through the air.
On board the Keith the few minutes after Captain Simson’s death were filled with chaos and confusion. Being above the level of the quay the bridge structure was exposed to bomb splinters and to the dismay of the crew on the bridge it now came under a murderous fire from small-arms and mortars originating from weapons in houses overlooking the berth from their port side. Bullets and fragments from mortar shells were freely piercing the steel sides of the wheelhouse and inevitably hitting frightened men and women packed inside and struggling to get down to the mess decks below. At the wheel, the Coxswain was spun around by a bullet hitting his steel helmet and the Torpedo Officer was hit in the arm as he crouched beside David Verney, a fellow officer, in the Captain’s sea cabin. Verney fashioned a tourniquet using his handkerchief, a pencil, a rubber and a shoelace to try and stop the bleeding. All the soldiers who had scrambled onto the Flag Deck were killed. The First Lieutenant, himself wounded in the leg, now took command of the Keith and, following Admiralty guidelines, shouted at everybody to get down from his position at the starboard door of the wheelhouse. It was a bitter experience for men of the Senior Service to lie down on the deck under fire for minutes which seemed like hours. Lieutenant Lumsden found it an, ‘undignified, unsuitable, indeed unacceptable position for a professional officer’, and so he got to his feet remarking to the First Lieutenant that he had, ‘…had enough of it.’ The Vimy had already cast off and the Keith was next to leave.
‘The First Lieutenant, now our Captain, asked me if I could take the ship out. I had never commanded a ship going astern and certainly not down a narrow and curving channel peering through a small scuttle with bullets hitting people between me and the men who would carry out my orders!…I found myself replying “Of course I can Number One!” No communication was possible to the men on the upper deck to slip our wires, so after ringing on main engines I shouted engine orders to the Signal Officer and chief Yeoman of Signals, who were manning the telegraphs, to make the ship surge ahead and astern and so part the wires.’ Lieutenant G J A Lumsden. RN.7
Lumsden rushed up to the bridge more than once to improve his view astern but each time came clattering down again as bullets whistled about his ears. Keeping close to the stone pier on his port side the Keith rounded the bend in the channel and Lumsden increased her speed to fourteen knots.
‘As we shot out of the harbour we passed the Whitshed, normally our flotilla second in command, going into Boulogne. We shouted to him that Captain Simson had been killed and warned him of the accurate small arms fire from the northern side of the harbour. Outside the harbour we manned the bridge and sorted out our load of disorderly refugees. Captain Simson and some dozen others were buried quietly at sea as we scanned the skies for enemy aircraft.’ Lieutenant G J A Lumsden. RN.8
Lumsden’s fellow officer, David Verney later wrote,
‘Our navigator, Lieutenant Lumsden, conned the ship from the chart house, breaking our berthing wires, and took the ship out stern first; it was just like a Wild West shootout!’
Lumsden, although recommended for a medal, did not receive one as the Keith returned to Dover with ‘less than a complete load of passengers’. Instead his fellow officers in the Wardroom presented him with the medal of the Chevalier of the Order of Oranje Nassau, which Queen Wilhelmina of the Netherlands had issued to the Keith for her assistance in evacuating the Dutch Royal family from Holland earlier that month.
HMS Whitshed then steamed into Boulogne harbour for the second time that day. Accompanied by HMS Vimiera, and berthing under the aegis of nine RAF fighters, both ships engaged German units and guns on the high ground to the north in and around Fort de la Creche. The two ships began loading mixed detachments of AMPC and strays from the BEF as fast as they could and Brigadier Fox-Pitt at last managed to get the evacuation message out to his battalion commanders in the field by dispatch rider. There were problems, however, in passing it down the chain of command. Lieutenant Colonel Stanier in particular found it difficult to get in touch with his company commanders and had to resort to delivering messages himself.
‘As expected, Brigadier Fox-Pitt quite rightly decided to withdraw us and we took up a position half way through the town. Then we were told to withdraw to the quayside. Well the only way I could get them to withdraw was to go myself or send somebody else. So I sent somebody to the other three companies – but No. 3 Company who’d had the brunt of it in the morning, had got so far…I knew where they were, in a white house just near the crossroads in the middle of the town. I said “I know where they are…I know the street. I can find it, I’ll go there." I went there and of course they were being shot at. So was I. I went to the door and it was locked and I banged on the door and did everything possible…I couldn’t get anybody to open it. Eventually I couldn’t stay there any longer. I mean there were too many bullets flying about, so I jumped into my car and my gallant driver drove me back down the street.’ Lieutenant Colonel Sir Alexander Stanier Bt., MC. CO 2 Welsh Guards.9
Closing in. German troops working their way through factory buildings.
Stanier later learned that one of the men had gone to Major Windsor-Lewis and told him that someone was banging on the door. Windsor-Lewis had decided to look out of the window before opening the door and removed the barricades just in time to see Stanier’s car disappearing down the street. Jim Windsor-Lewis knew it had been his CO but had no idea of the importance of his visit. Ignorant of the evacuation order the remnants of 3 Company fought on as the rest of the battalion prepared to move to the quays. The men of 4 Company greeted the news of evacuation with unconcealed delight.
Brigadier Fox-Pitt (centre) checking troops across the Pont Marguet bridge. To his right Lieutenant Colonel Stanier with Major Jones-Mortimer on the Brigadier’s left. Note the destroyer firing its guns in the background. Courtesy RHQ Welsh Guards
‘We were all in quite good form, sharing out what we had, when an order to close for embarkation came. Whoopee! We streamed to Company HQ and I led off for the quay…Eventually we all rushed across the bridge onto the quay. Billy Fox-Pitt, our Brigade Commander said we were late!!! and told us to go into a vast shed.’ Second Lieutenant Peter Hanbury. OC 12 Platoon, 4 Company, 2 Welsh Guards.10
‘We were in the town area where we were getting sniped at and we broke into a flat for shelter. In the kitchen were two or three tins of biscuits, sealed. The officer forbade us to touch these in case they had been tampered with and resealed. When we came from there, Captain Heber-Percy marched us down to the docks. The Germans had shelled the place quite a bit so there was loads of rubbish lying about. Amidst all this there was an old lady on some steps, above all things, cleaning her windows!’11 Guardsman F E Smith. 1 Company 2 Welsh Guards.
Lieutenant Colonel Stanier had driven back to the Pont Marguet to meet Brigadier Fox-Pitt on the bridge. The naval demolition parties had already laid explosive charges and Fox-Pitt was eager to get the Welsh Guards across before the Germans closed in.
‘I went back and met Billy Fox-Pitt on the bridge, which gives access to the quay and we checked everybody through except, of course, No.3 Company. He said "I can’t wait any longer, I am going to blow the bridge", which we then did, rather unsuccessfully as it happened, but we did enough damage to prevent vehicles getting through.’ Lieutenant Colonel Sir Alexander Stanier Bt., MC. CO 2 Welsh Guards.12
The Welsh made their way onto the quays where the situation was still frantic and solid with troops even though the Whitshed and Vimiera had begun loading. The German tanks had followed the Welshmen down through the town and were now accompanied by half-track vehicles moving up and down the streets.
‘You could see the tanks. We were in one cellar, and one passed us and we were worried stiff in case some bloody fool’d fire at him. We got to the harbour and we were in a wine cellar. All those houses had wine cellars loaded with all sorts of spirits and wine. ‘Jerry’ came down the street in this tank, quite happily with his head out the top and we daren’t do anything – daren’t say anything because if he knew we were in that cellar – one round and he’d have killed the lot of us, there were about five of us. The minute that tank went out of sight we were up and away and then we got on the harbour where all the trees were and then a plane started shooting at us. That was easy because you could step to one side behind a big tree and then when the plane came back you could step the other side. There were times when I was frightened to death but sometimes I wasn’t worried I don’t know why. It was just a question of fighting right back to the beach.’ Guardsman Doug Davies. 8 Platoon, 3 Company, 2 Welsh Guards.13
‘Jerry came down the street in this tank, quite happily with his head out of the top.’
A tank commander views the battlefield from the turret hatch of a Panzer Mk IV. One of the gunners operates a Schmeisser through a turret port. Note the Walther 9mm P-38 on the commander’s belt.
A Panzer major in the turret of a Mk IV.
Driver’s position in a Panzer Mk IV.
It was now getting on for 8.00 pm. Fox-Pitt was told that evacuation would take place ‘forthwith’ and that a second flight of destroyers would come in to take off the Guards as soon as Whitshed and Vimiera had finished loading. There were very few Guardsmen on board. Amongst those who did embark were the survivors of the Brigade anti-tank platoon which the Whitshed had landed the previous day. A burly Irish guardsman climbed onto the Whitshed’s bridge and placed a bottle of champagne onto the chart table. ‘Thanks for the double ride’, he said and disappeared. Lieutenant Colonel Haydon was later presented with a medallion bearing the Whitshed’s crest – a demi-lion rampant holding a shamrock – by Commander E R Conder, her Captain, as a memento of her association with the Irish Guards.
The two destroyers cast off, each one taking about a thousand on board. Sergeant Arthur Evans was not on board the Whitshed as she sailed away carrying his comrades of the anti-tank platoon. At first light that morning he had resumed his painful withdrawal into town assisted by a guardsman at either side, after being wounded during the fighting on the outskirts of Outreau the previous evening.
‘The next thing I can remember is lying on a stretcher on the dockside trying to protect myself from a couple of Stukas which were bombing the docks and harbour. An officer appeared and asked me if I wished to return to the UK on a ship which was about to leave. Fate stepped in – the fool! I declined his offer, saying I wished to stay in Boulogne with my battalion. An ambulance took me and others to a hospital up the hill near the old town. At the entrance the ambulance stopped and a medical orderly demanded my rifle and any ammunition I was carrying. To my astonishment, he threw the rifle onto a heap of others just inside the gate.’ Sergeant Arthur Evans, 2 i/c AntiTank Platoon, 2 Irish Guards. Attached 20 Guards Brigade.14
Wounded Guardsman Charles Thompson was, however, one of the lucky few.
‘I was fortunate when a destroyer which had been standing off shore firing at the German tanks on the hill above, made a quick dash to pick us up and I was lucky to get on board. With guns blazing it headed back to the open sea. A Naval Medical Officer put me in his cabin and told me not to move. It was a relief to see the port of Dover again but I missed the White Cliffs because by now it was getting quite dark and obviously they had not the same meaning as when I had left a few days ago.’ Guardsman Charles Thompson.12 Platoon, 4 Company, 2 Welsh Guards.15
Thompson was sent to a hospital in Friern Barnet, London and his wounds were severe enough for him to be medically ‘downgraded’. Two years later, at his own request, he was upgraded to ‘A1’ and in 1943 he joined 3 Welsh Guards in North Africa.
Having got most of his battalion across the bridge Lieutenant Colonel Stanier opened his HQ in an empty railway carriage and set about chivvying his men along the quay to await the arrival of the promised destroyers with shouts of, ‘Welsh Guards to the front, up to the top end Welsh Guards’. As soon as the Whitshed and the Vimiera were clear of the harbour HMS White Swan and HMS Venomous steamed in to take their places. They were followed swiftly by HMS Venetia and all three ships now began firing on German artillery positions to the north and on tanks and half-tracks in the streets around the harbour at a range of a few hundred yards. The Venetia was a few yards from the entrance to the harbour when a sheet of flame appeared to erupt from the hills near Fort de la Creche. The Germans had managed to get one of the French coastal guns working. All day since their capture of the Fort, a German artillery team had tried in vain to repair the guns which the French had failed to ‘spike’ irretrievably, then up stepped Hauptfeldwebel John, a veteran infantry gun man, then in command of an Engineer Platoon of 2 Motorcycle Battalion.
‘Again and again he tries, adjusts the levers, turns the wheels and cogs – till suddenly it works! What the artillerymen tried to do in vain the motorcycle Hauptfeldwebel succeeds in. The first shot “thunders”.’ Oberleutnant Durkes OC. 3 Company, 2 Motorcycle Rifle Battalion, 2 Panzer Division.16
‘A motorcyclist company and an engineer storm troop have captured Fort de la Creche. A man is ordered to the telescope which allows him to see the English coast. The man…reports warships approaching. They are English destroyers. Unfortunately the crew of the fort and our own artillery had disabled the guns. Now one of the sergeants of the motorcycle company sets about a gun, and, while shell after shell hits the fort…the sergeant and some clever boys succeed in putting one of the guns in order. He does it calmly, smoking his pipe. He is sweating, black with dirt and oil, sometimes has to seek cover, but after half an hour he is able to fire the first shot, after a short time the next…The third shot hits one of the destroyers…the fourth to a hair hits the same destroyer. After the fifth shot the destroyer is set on fire and capsizes.’ Hubert Borchert.17
One of the guns at Fort de la Creche is repaired and is brought into action against the British destroyers off Boulogne. Courtesy Herr Franz Steinzer
The Venetia was struck amidships and the flames from the fire which broke out, were fanned towards her stern. Although she did not capsize as German accounts suggested she did develop a list. If she had been sunk in the narrowest part of the channel the whole evacuation enterprise would have been doomed to failure.
Meanwhile the Wild Swan and the Venomous had begun to embark the last of the wounded and the first parties of Guards. Requests from the commanders of the German rifle battalions, to allow their weary men to rest, were turned down as their superiors became aware that a complete evacuation was probably under way and that the capture of 20 Brigade was a possibility. For the next forty-five minutes the German guns, tanks and planes turned their attentions to the quay whilst the destroyers’ guns replied in kind. One of the weary German soldiers roused from their rest to take part in the battle was Oberfeldwebel Langhammer.
Langhammer commanded a Panzer IV of the 4th (Heavy) Company of 3 Panzer Regiment. His crew had had a successful day. All the coastal fortifications to the south had been taken as the tanks of his company had advanced upon Boulogne and the captured French Marines had been escorted to the rear. He and his crew had been preparing supper and looking forward to their rest as they had watched the columns of smoke rising over Boulogne turned red by the rays of the setting sun. Langhammer’s driver, Oskar Denscheilmann, had just opened a bottle of champagne on the tank’s turret when the crew had heard the garbled voice of their company commander, Oberleutnant von Jaworski, carry over from a group of houses.
‘What had I heard? Destroyer, harbour? Entering slowly? Panzer? – What’s the matter? – And now I understand every word: “Down to the harbour immediately, we will spoil the destroyer’s entrance.” As quick as lightning we jump in our seats, already the engine growls and…our “Heinz” rushes with full speed following the commander. My men do not speak a word. They know what is lying ahead. I look at their faces. Fredi [Ivantschitz], the loader, a Vienna boy, Leo [Palmreuther], the gunner; sitting ahead at the steering levers, the driver, one of the silent heroes of the Panzertruppe, his face dirty with dust and oil; “Sichel” [Sichelstiel], the wireless-operator, smiling as ever. Their eyes beam with resoluteness and a strong will to win. I give the first orders…The first marks are bridge, conning tower and gun “turrets” of the foredeck; the second mark is the engine room…Woe betide you destroyer, soon you will be acquainted with German panzers. Soon we are on the spot…the view curves across the hill down to the harbour. Now I see the commander dismounting the “car” ahead and with both arms he points forcefully to the harbour…Our neighbouring “car” has already opened fire. Passing it we feel the force of the muzzle blast inside our “car”. But keep cool. We will see this cheeky intruder in his full size. Funnel, mast tops are already seen; an “Englishman”. Further ahead. Standing on the forward slope without any cover we stop…A fire order is superfluous. Range 450 metres. Thundering, the first shell leaves the barrel. Will it be a direct hit? The flight seems perpetual. Then, lightning, a blue-glaring flash hits the mast: direct hit on the conning tower. Shouts of joy ring through the interior of our cockpit. The loader is working feverishly: three, four shells leave the barrel. 150-200 English infantrymen are to be seen clearly on the foredeck seeking cover…Too late, those who are not swept off the deck by the crushing effect of our shells jump overboard gesticulating wildly. We are shooting “quick fire”…“Schwupp” – again a shell is put into the barrel and soon it penetrates the thick armour of the gun “turret”. Its turning is stopped abruptly, iron and steel splinters are whirling through the air. Finished. Suddenly…the tank is shaken by trembling and vibration. Splinters hit the right side of the panzer. Are we fired on? A heavy blow impacts less than two metres ahead of the bow armour. It’s a struggle for life. Again our steel monster is trembling I realise that we are being strafed by AA guns and by ships’ guns. Now aim well gunner. The fore deck is already burning. Thick black smoke rises and obscures the view. “Change target! Engine rooms!” I want to cry to my gun crew – in vain, biting smoke fills the compartment. It bites the throat and eyes. Tears are running incessantly down my face. Soon the next shells are flying through the air and vanish into the hull. A cruel spectacle. Yes, “Tommy”, you will learn who leaves the ground as the victor. Inexorably our shells destroy the installations of the ships interior. Ten or twelve shells are the conclusion of this rare fight, a fight of only a few minutes. In a wild drive back followed by the shell and shrapnel salvos of some enemy destroyers lying further out to sea, we hurry to our next cover. Here we may open the hatches. Cool air invades. I shake hands with my crew comrades. Our hearts are full of joy: We have managed it. Two hours later our destroyer, completely burnt out, goes to the bottom of the sea forever. Leutnant Langhammer.18
Gun crew in action in the confines of a Panzer Mk IV.
‘A magnificent sight’ HMS Venetia leaving Boulogne harbour stern first and ablaze after being hit by shells from Fort de la Creche. Courtesy RHQ Welsh Guards
Langhammer was mistaken in his assertion that his crew had sunk a British destroyer. It is unlikely that a Panzer IV could have sunk a destroyer with its 75mm gun although at a range of 300 metres it could certainly have caused casualties and substantial damage to exposed structures. The official German Wehrmachtsbericht of Monday 27 May 1940 referred to Langhammer’s company commander, Oberleutnant von Jaworski, in a brief sentence.
‘Off Boulogne, an Oberleutnant in a Panzer Regiment, von Jaworski, with his panzer, shelled by several enemy warships, set a destroyer on fire.’
Unfortunately the event in question is not dated exactly but it is interesting to note that the official German report does not claim that a British destroyer was sunk only that one was set on fire.
By now the Venetia, just inside the breakwaters, was badly crippled. With German tanks firing at her from the Quai Gambetta she was set at full speed astern and skilfully taken out of the harbour towards the open sea and Dover, exchanging fire with the guns in and around Fort de la Creche.
‘There was a terrific explosion on one of the destroyers…I don’t know whether it was shell-fire or bombs, but the destroyer was left on fire. However, owing to magnificent seamanship, they were able to get her out so that she wouldn’t block the harbour, which is what we thought would happen. She went out stern first – blazing at the stern and with all guns firing – a magnificent sight!’ Lieutenant Colonel Sir Alexander Stanier Bt., MC. CO 2 Welsh Guards.19
Amid the raging battle the Irish Guards moved down towards the inner side of the Quai Chanzy in sections and platoons and sheltered on its lower levels. They were deafened by the sound of the ships’ guns above them, Bren gun fire behind them and direct hits from German shells on the granite quays above. With the decks of the ships just yards away the Irish resolve was put to the test but no-one moved until Lieutenant Colonel Haydon gave the embarkation order himself. The discipline and control of the Guards earned the respect of the naval officers as they moved towards the Venomous and the Wild Swan. First the wounded were lowered from the quay and then the rest of the battalion jumped on board. The tide was still out and it was a long way from the quay to the decks. A number of the Irish fell into the water but were fished out by the sailors. At around 9.30 pm the call went out to the Bren gun squads covering the embarkation to come in and they came aboard Wild Swan at the double. By 9.30 the bulk of the Irish were aboard and ready to go as the gunners of the Wild Swan, according to The History of the Irish Guards, scored a direct hit on a German tank and sent it ‘spinning like a cartwheel.’
Oberfeldwebel Langhammer and four of his crew. The unverified claim of a destroyer sunk is marked on the turret of his PzKpfw IV. The ship is identified by the numbers ‘523’ and the date is ‘23.5.40”. Courtesy Herr Franz Steinzer
The evening of 23 May, 1940, and as HMS Venomous slips out towards the sea a series of photographs of German shells bursting on the Princess Hotel are taken. The hotel survived the attack and stands today. It is presently used as a wine bar. Courtesy Sir Beville Stanier Bt
A pre war photograph for comparison.
Some of the Welsh were also embarking but the operation was not going as smoothly as that of the Irish. The German Luftwaffe chose that moment to bomb the harbour. Lieutenant Colonel Stanier dived under a railway truck for cover along with the Padre and Captain J Duncan. The bombs exploded all around and when the dust settled Stanier and the padre got up; Captain Duncan did not. There was not a mark on him and Stanier later surmised that Captain Duncan had been killed by the sheer force of the blast.
The port of Boulogne receiving a pounding.
Stanier and his staff got all the men he could muster up to the pier at the far end of the quay and ushered them on board the Venomous. He knew he was short of a good many men but two intelligence officers who forced their way down the quays failed to find the missing Welsh Guards. A little after 9.30 pm both ships cast off, each one carrying some 900 men. Once clear of the harbour all became quiet and it was only when the ships docked at Dover around midnight that Stanier realised how many had been left behind. Unfortunately it was not only his 3 Company under Major Windsor-Lewis which had been left behind; there were many others from 2 and 4 Companies who had not managed to get on board and a very large contingent of Lieutenant Colonel Deane’s AMPC which had been somewhat left to withdraw as best it could from its posts in the northern suburbs, and consequently had not been able to get across the Pont Marguet before it had been blown.
2 and 4 Companies had made to go forward towards the Venomous from one of the huge, black sheds near the Gare Maritime when they had become caught up in the heaving, pushing scrum and cut off from the rest. Amid the confusion, ‘an officer’ had approached Captain Jack Higgon and told him that ‘the last destroyer had left’. After a short conference between Higgon and Captain Cas Jones-Mortimer, commanding 2 Company, it had been decided that their two companies would try and make a break for it, through the German ring and along the coast in the direction of Etaples. It was getting on towards midnight when the party set out. Peter Hanbury later recalled the episode in his diary.
‘Jack and Cas decided to fight their way out to Etaples, as the bridges to the east had been blown. Order of march, No 2 Company, AMPC, 4 Company – machine-gunned – rallied in yard where I saw Eddie [Beddingfield]. I was the rear platoon, and No. 2 Company was caught in a street by machine-guns firing on fixed lines. Jack worked his way up and silenced one with his pistol through a window…I went…forward to get orders from Jack…As I reached him I became entangled in some wires on the pavement and the tracer kept hitting the kerb about three inches above my feet. Jack said to get into the nearest house under cover. This I did and went fast asleep. Eddie and Dickie [Twining], with over half the company, could not contact us and so went back to the quay; a boat came in…and took Eddie, Dickie and half the Company home.’ Second Lieutenant Peter Hanbury OC 12 Platoon, 4 Company, 2 Welsh Guards.20
To this day some of the men involved who did not get home, believe dark deeds were afoot that night.
‘What amazed me most of all was, we got as far as the boat and they were loading and I’d picked up a stretcher and was carrying one of the boys up the gang plank. I’d only have had to put my foot over the side of the boat and I’d have been home but a fellow came up to me and said, “let me take over ‘Pritch’. I’m a married man with a family.” I let him take the stretcher and I went back to the lads. The Germans came over and bombed us and they decided to take the boat out and come back. It turned out that there was a “Fifth Columnist” amongst us and this “Fifth Columnist” said get out and go to the next port a little bit lower down and he took us out into town. By this time it was getting dark, and they took us down this street and they were waiting for us. Like lambs to the slaughter. Luckily Number 4 Company were at the back but the first lot, Number 2, walked into it. What was left of us slept in an hotel; they pushed us in the coal cellar and said they’d wake us up in the morning to say that the boat was in. In the meantime I’d met up with my friend, a Swansea boy I’d joined up with, and we decided we’d get out on our own and over to the harbour at the crack of dawn.’ Guardsman Syd Pritchard. 11 Platoon, 4 Company, 2 Welsh Guards.21
Back on the quay HMS Windsor had put into the harbour under cover of darkness at around 11.00 pm. With little interference from the Germans she managed to load the naval demolition parties and a few stragglers when the men of 4 Company under Second Lieutenants Beddingfield and Twining appeared on the dockside after the aborted attempt to break out towards Etaples. Hardly daring to believe their luck they gratefully boarded the Windsor, now holding 600 men in all, and sailed for home. The last ship to approach the stricken port did so in the early hours of 24 May. The Germans had by now withdrawn for the night, their troops being desperately in need of rest and reorganisation. On the quays near the Gare Maritime Lieutenant Colonel Deane and 600 of his Pioneers were preparing for their final stand which they thought would come at daybreak. They felt they had been left behind. The message that the bridges were to be blown had come too late for them to cross to safety and they had fought a stubborn rearguard action all the way back to the Pont Marguet where they had finally managed to clamber across the partially demolished bridge to some form of cover. The AMPC had held out until dark when some of Deane’s men had been persuaded to join Major Higgon’s party in its attempted break-out. Now, as the ship approached at around 1.40 am in total darkness, Colonel Deane signalled her with his torch. In an eerie silence the Vimiera, for the second time, backed up to the mole and stayed at her berth for almost an hour while she embarked the last 600 men of 5 Group AMPC and 800 other stragglers who had been left behind. Grossly overloaded, she slipped her wires and vanished into the darkness of the Channel without a shot being fired. She was the last British ship to leave Boulogne before it fell into German hands.
As darkness falls on 23 May shells continue to strike the quayside. Here an Allied truck receives a direct hit. Courtesy Sir Beville Stanier Bt
Sometime around midnight the exhausted Welsh and Irish Guards who had been evacuated reached Dover and after a hot meal they boarded trains for Fleet at around 4.30 am on 24 May en route for camp on Tweseldown racecourse. Just before they boarded the train the Welsh were overjoyed to see Second Lieutenant Twining and Second Lieutenant Beddingfield arrive with fewer than twenty men of 4 Company who had got away on HMS Windsor. It was impossible to provide an accurate breakdown of casualties at that early stage but Lieutenant Colonel Stanier calculated that of 944 other ranks who had embarked for Boulogne either with 2 Welsh Guards or attached to 20 Brigade, only 623 had come home, sixty-two of which were quickly evacuated to hospital. Only four men had been confirmed killed in action but of the other 317 there was no information. They could only be posted as ‘missing’. Of his thirty-five officers, Stanier knew that Captain Duncan and Second Lieutenant Hexey Hughes had been killed but eleven more, including three of his company commanders were missing. It did not need a mathematician to work out that roughly a third of his battalion had been lost. Lieutenant Colonel Haydon had sailed for Boulogne with 699 men of all ranks and after the first roll call in England he found that his casualties amounted to 196 other ranks and five officers, two of which, Lieutenants Reynolds and Leveson, had been killed in action. As in Stanier’s case, Haydon’s losses were almost a third of his force.
Lieutenant Colonel Sir Alexander Stanier Bt., MC.
Back across the Channel some of the men who made up those casualty statistics were in hospitals, manning barricades or huddled in small groups in the darkened cellars of houses. In the foreboding silence of the town after the earlier din of battle some of the Welsh Guards who had been left behind were pondering their fate. For the time being Syd Pritchard and about twenty other ranks along with Peter Hanbury and Major Cas Jones-Mortimer, made themselves as comfortable as possible in their cellar and waited to see what daylight would bring. Across the street Captains Jack Higgon and Henry Coombe-Tennant accompanied by Second Lieutenant Ion Garnett-Orme and thirty other ranks did the same. Guardsman Doug Davies, by now leaderless, was still sheltering in a cellar near the fish market. His CO Major Windsor-Lewis was still defending a road-block with his two forward sections somewhere in the town, oblivious to the fact that the battalion had been evacuated. Joseph Bryan was still alone somewhere up near St. Martin beyond the Haute Ville where General Lanquetot and his French garrison had so far successfully resisted German pressure against the Citadel. General Lanquetot, Jim Windsor-Lewis, Syd Pritchard, Doug Davies and Joseph Bryan knew nothing of the dramatic events that had taken place at the harbour. As far as General Lanquetot and Windsor-Lewis were concerned the battle for Boulogne was still on and they were preparing for the next round. Little did Windsor-Lewis realise that for him and a small force of men, including Pritchard and Davies, the next round would be the last.