All Hell Let Loose_ The World at War 1939-1945 - Max Hastings [184]
Some ships ran out of anti-aircraft gun ammunition, but many attacks were beaten off. Men on the upper decks of the Polish destroyer Garland suffered shocking casualties from bomb near-misses. At Murmansk, the words ‘LONG LIVE POLAND’ were found scrawled on the ship’s upperworks in its crew’s blood; ‘They were hard men,’ a Merchant Navy officer said respectfully. All but seven ships of the convoy got through, and some 371 crewmen and gunners from lost vessels were rescued by extraordinary feats of courage and skill. Admiral Sir John Tovey, C-in-C of the Home Fleet, whose caution Churchill deplored, asserted that ‘the strategical situation was wholly favourable to the enemy’, but acknowledged that PQ16’s success was ‘beyond expectations’.
Yet the following month witnessed the most discreditable episode of the Royal Navy’s war. PQ17, comprising thirty-six ships, most of which were American, sailed from Iceland on 27 June, carrying 594 tanks, 4,246 vehicles, 297 aircraft and over 150,000 tons of military and general stores. The British knew from Ultra that the Germans planned a major effort against the convoy, including a sortie by capital ships codenamed Rosselsprung – ‘Knight’s Move’. Hitler had declared that ‘Anglo-American intentions … depend on sustaining Russia’s ability to hold out by maximum deliveries of war materials.’ At last, he recognised the importance of the Arctic convoys. The Admiralty assumed operational direction of PQ17 and its supporting units, because it had access to the latest Ultra intelligence, and experience showed that Tovey, at sea in his flagship, could not effectively control a large and widely dispersed force maintaining wireless silence.
Early skirmishes were of a familiar character. A Luftwaffe Condor took up station off Jan Mayen island on 1 July. He115 torpedo-carrying seaplanes made an unconvincing and unsuccessful attack, during which the US destroyer Wainwright charged headlong towards the attacking aircraft, firing everything it had. Yet on 3 July, the Admiralty ordered the convoy’s cruiser screen to turn away west, towards the German capital ships which it now believed were at sea. Next day three merchantmen were sunk. That evening, a disbelieving Captain ‘Jackie’ Broome, commanding the close escort, received a signal from London: ‘Secret and immediate. Owing to threat from surface ships convoy is to disperse and proceed to Russian ports.’ Thirteen minutes later, a further brief signal confirmed: ‘Convoy is to scatter.’ After reluctantly passing the order to his charges, Broome closed a merchantman and addressed its master through a loud-hailer: ‘Sorry to leave you like this, goodbye and good luck. It looks like a bloody business.’
Tirpitz indeed sortied briefly on 6 July, only to be ordered to return to Norway, to the disgust of its crew and escorts. A German destroyer captain wrote that day: ‘The mood is bitter enough. Soon one will feel ashamed to be on the active list … watching other parts of the armed forces fighting while we, “the core of the fleet” just sit in harbour.’ But the Germans had no need to risk their big ships: the Luftwaffe and U-boats sank twenty-four of PQ17’s merchantmen, struggling unprotected on lonely courses to Russia. Among their civilian crews, 153 men perished while British warships lost none. The shame of the Royal Navy was plain to behold, as were the disgust of the Americans and contempt of the Russians. It is indeed possible that PQ17 would have been destroyed by Tirpitz. But the navy’s response of ‘every man for himself’, the abandonment of the convoy by its escort, breached the tradition of centuries and inspired lasting mistrust within the merchant service, at a time when its morale was anyway precarious.
The decision resulted from a personal intervention by the First Sea Lord, Admiral Sir Dudley Pound. Pound already commanded scant