For the next ten minutes the battleships ran on a mostly westerly course, parallel to one another and firing for all they were worth. On her fourth salvo the aft turret of Normandie was lucky enough to put two of her four 15-inch rounds into Barham. One fell amidships, just behind the ship’s single funnel, where it smashed the cranes and catapult for seaplane launches. The second fell right on the armored roof of the X turret, and blasted clean through the thinner 5 inch armor there, with a tremendous secondary explosion when rounds and powder bags being lifted from the magazine below went off.
The turret was nearly ripped from its housing, badly askew, the barbette exposed and blackened by the raging fire. Both barrels were canted down onto the deck, and every man within thirty yards of the hit was dead in an instant.
Vice Admiral Cunningham heard the bellowing explosion, and turned his field glasses aft, seeing the tall column of think black smoke rising above Barham.
“That doesn’t look good,” he said quietly to Captain Oliver Bevir, who had been with the ship since late 1939.
“Hell of a good knock from the look of it,” said Bevir, but the roar of Resolution’s guns pulled his attention back to the fate of his own ship. He could see that the Richelieu had put on speed, and though he had ordered all ahead full battle speed, Resolution was laboring to make 22 knots full out, and the French bettered that by eight knots. The range had closed to under 10,000 meters but the French ships were pulling ahead, and they might soon get into a very good position to turn fifteen or twenty points to port and cross the British T.
It was then that the inexperience and undue ardor of the French fast destroyers on that flank caused a bit of a faux pas that spared the British heavy ships further damage for the moment. The three destroyers led by Le Fantasque came cutting across the bow of Richelieu again, running at their amazing top speed that was approaching 45 knots. Le Terrible and Le Malin followed, and behind them L’Audacieux had joined this group, which was now attempting to make a high speed torpedo attack.
Devonshire and Cumberland had both wisely come to port, crossing ahead of the British battleships and then turning south away from the torpedoes in a big hook. The bigger battleships labored on for some minutes as Cunningham gaped at the speed of the French ships, their long sleek hulls gleaming behind frothing bows. Amazingly, the destroyers had begun to make smoke as they made their approach, which obscured the whole region between the bigger ships and imposed a halt on that main gun action.
“Damn impudent!” said Cunningham, then he quickly ordered a fifteen turn to port, getting Resolution on a heading to avoid the first spread of enemy torpedoes. Barham, however, was unable to follow suit. The fire aft from the severe hit she had taken was threatening several boiler rooms, and her speed had fallen off to 17 knots. The French destroyers had broken up the fight just when their battleships were getting the better of it, but now they paid for that ill timed maneuver by getting a hit. A 21.7 inch torpedo struck home, shaking the old battleship Barham yet again.
Cunningham saw the hit amidships, a worried expression on his face now, replacing the cool confidence he had displayed for the first time. “I think we’d better hear from Captain Cooke about that,” he said in a low voice, and Captain Bevir gave a discrete order to have a signal sent requesting Barham’s status.
When next sighted, the French battleships had unaccountably turned ten points to starboard, and to Cunningham’s eye they appeared to be breaking off. He led his squadron into yet another fifteen point turn to port, running about 210 for a time, and then thought the better of his situation and came around to 150 on course away from the French battleships. Devonshire and Cumberland saw the maneuver and matched it smartly, and it appeared the action was concluding, though they continued to fire at a pair of French heavy cruisers, Foch and Algiere, that had been behind the line of the bigger battleships.
Admiral Plancon saw the British turn, half angered, and half impressed by the brave charge of the four destroyers, and so he ordered Richelieu to come thirty points to port, intending to continue the battle at longer range. Now one other advantage of the new 15-inch guns on the French battleships came into play-their tremendous range. They could elevate to fling their big rounds out an astounding 45,000 yards in testing, though no one thought they would ever hit anything at such a range. After Cunningham’s final turn the range had opened to about 18,000 meters again, but when the French gunners re-sighted the British battleships they began to pour it on again from all twenty 15-inch guns.
And they were getting hits.
Part VIII
“Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that’s no matter-tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther…. And then one fine morning-
So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.”
Chapter 22
It was time for the cavalry.
The fast French destroyers had raced southwest, outrunning the fire put on them as the British gunners struggled to adjust their range, never having faced a ship with such speed before. During the main gun duel, the British destroyer squadron had turned southwest behind the battleships, crossing their wakes. Now the squadron leader aboard HMS Fury, Lieutenant Commander Terence Robinson ordered all ahead full in an attempt to get after the French destroyers, which had just made another high speed turn to make their final torpedo run against the lumbering British battleships. Yet they would not get there in time.
The French destroyers surged forward to get inside 5000 meter range and brazenly fired their torpedoes. They were well aimed and would be difficult for the slow British battleships to avoid. Minutes later Cunningham felt HMS Resolution shudder under the impact of a good hit forward that he saw coming but could simply not evade. Barham was also hit yet again, her speed now falling off to only 12 knots.
Seeing the plight of the British battleships, Admiral Plancon urged his Captains to turn south and finish them, and this they did, with the sharp bow of Richelieu leading the way. It looked to be a very bad day for the Royal Navy, now outgunned twenty to fourteen, and with both battleships wounded and Barham down on one knee.
Cunningham swore under his breath when he saw the French battleships turn, knowing they had the speed to close to any range they desired. The French destroyers had finally turned about, and were fleeing from a fistful of angry British destroyers, with both sides exchanging gunfire during the chase. At 36 knots the British were running full out, but the big French destroyers had nearly a ten knot advantage on them, and LtC. Robinson knew he would never catch up. He had chased them off, giving Cunningham’s damage crews a little time in the corner, but now the bell was sounding again and the French heavyweights were coming to the center of the ring, smelling the blood on their foes and looking for a knockout.
They hadn’t counted on one last arrow in the Royal Navy’s quiver, however, or on one determined young Captain that was taking aim even now aboard the carrier HMS Glorious.
Far to the south Captain Christopher Wells had been receiving reports from his scout planes as the action unfolded, and he immediately knew he would have to get his Swordfish up and ready for battle. He had the last of 825 squadron up and circling over the carrier, joining two flights from 823 squadron to make twenty planes in all. When he heard that Barham appeared to have taken a big hit aft, he knew he had to fling his squadrons north at once.