But there had been another avoidable mistake by the Allies that had been significant. When on detecting the aircraft’s approach prior to the big attack on 13 September, Commodore Boddam Whetham had ordered the convoy’s masters to alter their course by 45° to starboard, which if complied with would have resulted in the merchant ships turning the narrowest part of their hulls towards many of the oncoming torpedoes, none of the masters of the ships in columns 9 and 10 had obeyed.54

  It is quite likely that this inability to exert effective control over the ships in the convoy, combined with the not unreasonable expectation that there might be similar losses the next day, played its part in pushing Boddam Whetham towards the edge of the mental breakdown which would eventually overwhelm him once he arrived in the Soviet Union.55 He certainly showed signs that he believed that some elements within the convoy had it in for him. In his official report, he focused much of his ire on the masters of the American and Panamanian ships in PQ18, especially on those whose vessels had accounted for six of the nine ships stationed in the right two columns at dawn on 13 September: ‘The Americans in particular pay but scant attention to signals, know little of the importance of good station keeping, and do not as yet know anything about convoy work,’ he complained.56

  He had previously written in a letter penned while still at sea: ‘These Americans must be persuaded to… realise that the Commodore’s orders are given to get the convoy home safely, and not for [his] amusement, or to show his authority.’57

  After the way the Americans had shown him up, it is perhaps not surprising that he did not take kindly to the master of William Moultrie, a US ship, requesting that his vessel should be moved from what following the 13 September attack was the very exposed eighth column to a safer position within the convoy in the place of a British ship carrying half the quantity of explosives. Boddam Whetham acceded to the demand, permitting the American ship to swap places with Goolistan, which had been in convoy position 74 (7th column from left, row 4), but wrote in his report: ‘I informed [the] Master of W[illiam]Moultrie however that the only difference I could see between 4,000 tons of T.N.T. and 2,000 tons was a fractional part of a second should she be hit.’58

  If Boddam Whetham was already feeling tense and exhausted because of the losses suffered during the big attack, one can understand how his anxiety might have increased exponentially thanks to subsequent events. There were two more probing raids by aircraft that day, and U-boats kept popping up all over the place.59 That suggested there would be similar attacks the next day.

  Knowing that the convoy was being sized-up in this way would have been hard for any convoy commodore to take in his stride. But for one whose mental health was being worn down by the constant challenges coming from his own side as well as by the exhaustion that was part and parcel of remaining on the alert for long periods at a stretch, the situation was becoming unbearable.

  28 Turning of the Tide

  Main Action: 14 September 1942

  Massed air attack, PQ18 part 2

  (See Maps 1 and 15)

  Compared with the angst-ridden PQ18 commodore Rear Admiral Boddam Whetham, Robert Burnett, the 55-year-old rear admiral in overall control of the escorting of the convoy, who was flying his flag in the anti-aircraft cruiser Scylla, was a cheerful, ebullient fellow.

  A stocky athletic man who had at one time been responsible for the Navy’s physical training, Burnett’s ready smile, his optimism and joie de vivre stood out and were a tonic to those serving under him, even to those who, thinking his positive side overdone, nicknamed him ‘Bullshit Bob’.1

  It was typical of the man that he was not at all put out by the more challenging weather conditions that he and his force had to face during the most dangerous part of their journey. Rather than bemoaning the fact that summer was already being overridden by fog and snow showers, after he had sailed into Spitzbergen’s Bell Sound on 12 September 1942 during the PQ18 refuelling expedition (see Chapter 27), he did not focus on the difficulty of passing through a narrow entrance where there were very strong tidal streams. Instead, in his report, he extolled the ‘magnificent glacier [that] could be seen leading down from the snow covered mountains to the sea’. He ignored what he described as ‘a few small ice flows’ in the sound that might have caused a less robust character to advise that the inlet should be avoided in the even colder climes that were to come.

  He had an equally positive way of assessing the opposition that PQ18 was facing. Instead of dwelling on the frightening aspects of being targeted by the 40-plus torpedo bombers on 13 September, he reported that even though it was ‘a decidedly unpleasant experience’, it was ‘exciting’. Likewise he had nothing but praise for the German pilots who had raided PQ18, writing in his report: ‘What impressed me was the apparent countless number of attackers [and] the determination of attack… I am convinced that nothing will prevent that number of attackers, gallantly led as they undoubtedly were, scoring many hits.’2

  Waving aside frustration because the American merchant seamen had not obeyed the commodore’s order to turn to starboard when the German aircraft attacked, the following words in his report characteristically take the glass half-full approach: ‘Such a manoeuvre would only have thrown the convoy into confusion, and would not have reduced casualties. Indeed it would probably have increased them. The majority of the two starboard columns had gone, but I heaved a sigh of relief when I heard the Rangers (the convoy’s oilers Gray Ranger and Black Ranger) were safe.’3

  By the same token Grossadmiral Raeder, whose staff had twice requested that the Luftwaffe should focus on sinking any tankers the aircraft crews spotted within the convoy – so that the convoy escorts would run short of fuel – must surely have been pleased by what occurred at around 4.30 a.m. on 14 September: that was when, shortly after those in the convoy, as they proceeded eastward, had caught sight of Spitzbergen’s South Cape to their north, U-457 unleashed the torpedo that crashed into the port side of the tanker Atheltemplar beside her engine room (see 4 in Map 15, and Note 4 for the approximate location).4

  After so much defending had been done in order to ward off the Luftwaffe the day before, it was a bit of a surprise to be targeted by a U-boat. The first Atheltemplar’s Captain Carl Ray knew of the U-457’s attack was when, as disclosed in his report, he heard a ‘dull explosion’. However, it did not take him long to realize that the tanker, which appears to have been in convoy position 45 (4th column; 5th, i.e. back, row), would have to be abandoned. As well as blowing away the after port lifeboat, the explosion had stopped the engines and extinguished the lights below decks. Even more ominously the stern of the ship was settling. After he gave the abandon ship order, the majority of the crew climbed into two of the surviving lifeboats.

  However, before the rest of the crew boarded the minesweeper that came alongside, shouts coming from down below were heard by the 2nd Engineer. Torches were quickly directed from a skylight into the engine room below. It did not look very promising. Through the steam and vapour it was possible to see that the water and fuel that had flooded in was already about 25 foot deep, well over the top of the engines. Fortunately, the would-be rescuers were not put off. An assistant engineer and a fireman, who had both been injured, were eventually spotted above the water line, and it was decided they needed to be pulled to safety.

  James Reeves, the ship’s chief officer, had a ladder lowered into the engine room and climbed down to assist the trapped men who were on beams. Reeves attached a line to the assistant engineer, and this man was hauled up. It was much harder to extricate the fireman, who as Ray reported, ‘was a very heavy man and was soaked with oil… Owing to his weight and the oil on his clothes, the rope round… [him] slipped under his arms, and his arms were forced over his head, and when he was six or seven feet from the skylight, he slipped through and fell onto the beam, and being unconscious was unable to help himself.’

  He was only saved because Reeves went down the ladder again and attached the line to the fireman’s body more securely. Eventually the two injured men, the rescue party and all the men in the tanker’s boats were picked up by the attending minesweepers, and after attempts to sink Atheltemplar failed, she was left burning.5

  As had been the case the previous day, the U-boat attack was just the opening act of a series of actions that featured the British escorts chasing after the prowling German submarines. Shortly before midday, the wily 37-year-old Captain Harold Armstrong in HMS Onslow, crept up to within around a mile of one of these U-boats, south of the convoy, whose conning tower had been seen in the distance by the destroyer’s masthead lookout. From there, Armstrong and his crew were able to use the destroyer’s asdic to hunt for the U-boat after she submerged, attacking her again and again by dropping no less than nine patterns of depth charges within the space of around two hours (see 5 in Map 15, and Note 6 for location).6 Three of the patterns resulted in what Armstrong described as ‘oil, air bubbles, wreckage of wooden gratings and some green vegetables’ appearing on the surface of the water, and an underwater explosion heard after the seventh attack told Armstrong that if they had not sunk the U-boat, they had almost certainly damaged it severely (it turned out that he had sunk U-589, which took with her the unfortunate shot-down four-man aircraft crew who had been ‘rescued’ after the air raid on PQ18 the previous day).7

  At the time, this cut and thrust underwater battle during the first half of 14 September must have seemed all-important. However, the second phase of the main battle over PQ18 was still to come. At 1.35 p.m. that afternoon, as Onslow was completing her attacks on the U-boat, and Armstrong was receiving instructions from Burnett not to stay away from the convoy, whose eastward course was about to take it south of Hope Island, for too long, an alert was announced over Scylla’s radio: ‘Enemy aircraft ahead!’ (See 6 in Map 15, and Note 8 for approximate location.)8

  Five minutes later, after it became clear that the branches of what would together constitute the first wave of 20-plus torpedo bombers were approaching from ahead, those listening in heard the even more stirring announcement: ‘[Our] fighters [are] in the air. [But] do not stop firing; they’re not there yet.’ (See Note 9 for number of attacking aircraft.)9

  The calls to arms were appreciated so much because it showed that Avenger’s Commander Colthurst really had learned his lesson. No sooner had the incoming aircraft been detected than he had immediately set in motion his plan to fly off the nine Hurricanes he had ready waiting for just such an eventuality.10 This, and the escort carrier’s subsequent evasive action, reassured Admiral Burnett, who was watching from Scylla, a ship in an equally exposed position to that occupied by the carrier. When the first wave of German aircraft arrived, Scylla was stationed at the front of the fifth column of what was now an eight-column convoy, but she would later be rushed out in front of the merchant ships to meet the attackers involved in the follow-up attack head on.11

  Nevertheless, at times Burnett evidently only had eyes for the carrier, remarking in his report: ‘It was a fine sight to see Avenger peeling off Hurricanes whilst streaking across the front of the convoy from starboard to port inside the [escort] screen with her [own] destroyer escort blazing away with any gun which would bear.’ That was the case even though as he put it, he then had to watch Avenger ‘being chased by torpedo bombers as she steamed down on [the] opposite course to the convoy to take cover’.12

  Unlike the previous day, while dealing with the first wave of the big German attack on 14 September, Burnett and Colthurst were at least sitting in the driving seat, even if they could not be said to be fully in control. As Burnett reported, ‘the attack was pressed home, but no ships were hit’, although that was partly because those in the British warships were the beneficiaries of more than their fair share of good fortune. According to Burnett, ‘Scylla was continually under helm during this period to avoid torpedoes, several of which were observed to pass uncomfortably close’. Avenger’s report reveals that while the carrier was certainly targeted, some of the torpedoes did not run after being dropped, and some German aircraft jettisoned their torpedoes after being chased away by the carrier’s Hurricanes. Avenger’s Commander Colthurst added that some of the German crews were put off by the gunfire emanating from the ships in the convoy, and dropped their torpedoes ‘at long range’.13

  There was the additional bonus that the Luftwaffe had losses (see Note 14 for losses recorded in German sources).14 ‘I myself saw one torpedo bomber crash on Scylla’s port quarter just ahead of the convoy,’ Burnett reported.15 These losses, and the Luftwaffe’s inability to capitalize on their success the previous day, prompted Burnett to label it ‘a most gratifying action’.16

  The Hurricane pilots could be particularly proud of what they had achieved using aircraft whose firepower, restricted by its reliance on relatively puny .303 guns, was known to be insufficient.17

  One might have hoped that a convoy charged with the task of transporting Hurricanes equipped with an improved armament would in its turn be protected by aircraft with similar guns now that an aircraft carrier formed part of the escort. However, that was not the case, and those in the convoy had had to watch the depressing spectacle of no less than four of the fighters attempting to chase one of the German shadowers after the big attack on 13 September, only for one of the Hurricanes to be shot down. Its pilot, who died during the action, was the sole Fleet Air Arm fatality during the convoy. Although three other Hurricanes were shot down while defending the convoy during the 14 September attacks, their pilots baled out before their planes hit the water, and all of them were rescued.18

  But what is not stated explicitly in official British and German documents was that British success overall on 14 September was assisted by Luftflotte 5’s flawed tactics. Although Hitler himself had demanded that the Luftwaffe should focus all its efforts on 14 September on sinking the aircraft carrier with the convoy, the 22 aircraft from the first wing of KG26 led into battle by Werner Klümper, shortly after 1.30 p.m. that day, did so without an update telling them where Avenger was stationed relative to the convoy.19

  The consequence of furnishing the Luftwaffe’s strike arm with such poor intelligence is highlighted by the following extract from Werner Klümper’s report: ‘Thanks to the very good visibility, we initially saw in the distance the smoke made by the ships, then pieces of the ships’ structures such as their masts and funnels, and finally the ships themselves. When I looked through my binoculars, I saw that the biggest ship was at the front of the convoy’s central column. I was sure this was the aircraft carrier because I had not been told of any change to the convoy’s formation.

  ‘I ordered the aircraft to spread out so they could execute the planned pincer manoeuvre. After doing this, the distance between each aircraft was 500 to 800 metres.

  ‘It was then that a message came over the radio announcing: “Watch out! Fighters ahead!”

  ‘… I ordered the other pilots to stay in groups of 3 or 4 aircraft, but to stick to the planned formation. No sooner had I spoken, than I saw through my binoculars that the ship at the front of the convoy was not the aircraft carrier. It was a large freighter. I then spotted the aircraft carrier approximately in the middle of the convoy’s northern column.

  ‘I immediately informed the other crews, and ordered them to change the direction of their attacks accordingly. I did this in the full knowledge that the altered attack would be less effective; it would have taken too long to set up a new pincer movement.’20

  So it was that the second of the massed torpedo bomber attacks during the period 13–14 September 1942, which Hitler and his commanders hoped would lead to the dismantling of the convoy’s defences, was hobbled. Klümper went on to describe how as his unit approached, his links with the other aircraft were cut, and how as he avoided the British Hurricanes and the guns of a destroyer, he found himself having to fire at the carrier from a distance, which he took to be 1.5 kilometres, at an angle of 45°, not surprisingly with no apparent success. The other aircraft with him were equally unsuccessful.

  The majority of the crews in the 25 torpedo bombers which reached the convoy at around 3.10 p.m. on 14 September were equally out of luck. Those unable to locate the carrier settled for targeting the merchant ships. But even that goal eluded most of them. Unlike the big attack the previous day, when several aircraft sped from the convoy’s starboard side over its right columns permitting them to drop their torpedoes at what amounted to point blank range, only one or two handfuls of 14 September’s second wave managed to reach the air space over PQ18’s interior.

  Not that entry into PQ18’s air space helped them achieve anything like what had been pulled off on 13 September. The following extract from the report by Ensign John Laird, commanding officer of the armed guard unit in the Liberty ship Virginia Dare (apparently still in one of the convoy’s right-hand columns), describes how a substantial number of those who did penetrate the area above the convoy came to grief: ‘Six came madly down the columns… towards our end of the convoy flying only about 20 to 30 feet above the water, and hopping in a peculiar fashion.

  ‘As the first came down between our column and the one to port, Chief Bosun Harshaw opened fire with his 20 mm (Oerlikon), setting the port engine afire, and the anti-aircraft ship astern to port finished him off.

  ‘[As] the second plane attempted to pass between this ship and the ship ahead… Seaman 2nd class Graff opened fire with his 20 mm setting him afire. The plane… headed for our bow in a crash dive [but] the 3-inch/50 [calibre] followed him in… Seaman 2nd class Harmon fired [the gun] when the plane was at the point blank range of sixty yards, [and] the plane blew up.