.

An Aging Dive Bomber's Great Score

It Didn't Sink the Bismarck—But It Reduced
The Grand Battleship to a Turkey Shoot Target

On its first combat mission in the Second World War, the world's most powerful new battleship was found meandering slowly in the ocean and then methodically was pounded to a blazing, mangled wreck by lesser enemy warships. After an hour-and-a-half, the admiral commanding the British fleet mercifully ordered three torpedoes sent in to finish off the Bismarck, awesome pride of the Third Reich. The helpless, dying behemoth turned turtle and slid stern-first into the depths. A hundred and fifteen of its crew were pulled from the water; more than 2,000 shipmates had died.

Lest we pine too deeply, it must be remembered that the German intention was to loose the Bismarck on North Atlantic transport convoys that supplied Great Britain with food, war materiel and millions of tons of other goods from America. Had the terrifying raider not been destroyed, many thousands of merchant seamen unquestionably would have died in the place of the battleship crew.

How had the great Bismarck been caught, almost motionless, early on the morning of 27 May 1941? Naval historians credit a "lucky hit" the day before by a torpedo dropped from an outdated Swordfish dive bomber—an archaic British naval biplane. Others cite nothing less than Providence. Indeed, the Bismarck had blown up Britain's finest battleship, the Hood, in an eight-minute duel earlier in the mission, then finagled successfully through the fleetwide snare spread across the North Atlantic to trap it. The British high command agreed nothing short of a miracle, after that, could avert a disaster that well might translate into victory for Hitler. But they got their miracle.

At the beginning of World War II, naval strategists weren't keen on nautical air power. Carriers such as England's Ark Royal, from which the Swordfish squadron deployed, were relegated to secondary roles while admiralties waged their hopes on battleships and cruisers. By the end of the war, of course, that strategy would be reversed. The sinking of the Bismarck early on was a key event that began to alter their thinking.

Once they'd completed their super-battleship Bismarck, the Germans were at a loss what to do with it. The admiralty intended it for commerce raiding—which Adolph Hitler thought an ignoble purpose for so splendid a piece of floating armament. Actually, Hitler seemed hesitant to send it into action at all, fearing the humiliation that would follow in the event the Bismarck sank for any reason. The paranoid führer wasn't told of the ship's departure on its inaugural raid until it was so far at sea that it would have been impractical for him to order it to abort.

The Bismarck steamed stealthily from its anchorage in a Norwegian fjord, accompanied by the battle cruiser Prinz Eugen. They coursed northerly, rounded Iceland, then headed southwestward through the Strait of Denmark between the coasts of Iceland and Greenland. (You're right: That's nowhere near the nation of Denmark—but that's what the strait's called.) (Geography is a really fascinating subject!) From there, the pair could enter the North Atlantic shipping lanes.

Intercepted by a British naval force, the Bismarck took on the Hood, the battleship Englanders prayed would be its match, at dawn on 24 May. Opening salvoes—then it was over. The Germans were astonished at how quickly the Hood vanished after a shell struck it amidships and exploded its ammunition magazine. British seamen looking on from other vessels in the flotilla were nauseously horrified. The Hood had a crew of 1,400; just 3 survived. Damage to the Bismarck, by comparison, seemed slight. But it included a wound to the ship's fuel system, opening a leak. Before it could go plundering into the convoys, the commanders decided, it must put into a French port for repairs. The Prinz Eugen parted company as the battleship angled toward France.

British destroyers and carrier craft shadowed the Bismarck. Swordfish squadrons made two aerial attacks. The Swordfish, by appearance, was a pathetic David pitted against a Goliath of a warship; it was capable of a mere 95mph cruising speed and equipped with a single torpedo. It hardly could be expected to injure the Bismarck, which steadily was nearing the French coast and the protection of Luftwaffe air cover.

Yet, in the second attack on the evening of 26 May, a Swordfish coming in low over the battleship's stern scored—barely—a hit. The torpedo struck the very rear of the Bismarck, appearing to cause little damage. But in reality, it was a mortal blow, jamming the rudder and all but eliminating the battleship's steering ability. Through the night, the British high command listened to reports of the Bismarck's erratic course, ecstatically realized what had happened, and marshaled a fleet from converging directions to deliver the coup de grâce. The Royal Navy vessels arrived early the next morning and began a withering long-distance assault. The Bismarck, guns knocked asunder and decks aflame, lost half its firepower in the first 15 minutes. Ultimately, it received an estimated 400 British shells.

The Hood was avenged and, in the eyes of some historians, the world preserved from Nazi dominion.

Return to the current issue of Blithering Antiquity

Return to the home page of Blithering Antiquity

Return to Hornpipe Vintage Publications

 ..

© 2003 Hornpipe Vintage Publications

All rights reserved. No part of the contents of this Web site may be used without express written permission from the editor.