The last of the Old Stringbags dipped their wings in farewell and the light horse hastened north, and they came upon the scene just as the French destroyers were scurrying away after their final torpedo run. Lieutenant Commander Jim Buckley was the nominal strike commander, and he ignored the destroyers, roaring overhead to get at the real threat posed by Richelieu and Normandie. He would receive the DNC that day for his gallant attack, steady on in his attack run as he led the Swordfish in. LtC. Leslie “Bill” Baily and Telegraphist Donald Bunce would also get awards, posthumously. Their plane was the victim of the heavy Ack Ack fire thrown at them by the Richelieu, though they still got their torpedo in the water, and it was aimed well enough to score a hit.
Four Swordfish were shot down by the six twin 37mm AA guns on each battleship, a high cost in the action, but one that was heated enough to give the French second thoughts about continuing. When Richelieu was hit by the first wave of ten planes and Admiral Plancon saw yet another wave swooping low to attack, he gave the order to turn about. The big ships swept around in a wide arc, reversing their course and steering to avoid the deadly torpedoes.
Jim Buckley scored his hit on the Normandie, but her superb underwater protection, among the best on any ship in the world, prevented serious damage. Seeing that his pilots had turned back the French advance, Buckley ordered his mates to form up again after they had already launched their torpedoes, as if yet a third wave of planes was ready to follow in the last of 825 Squadron.
The French had seen all they wanted of these pesky Swordfish, with both ships hit and many near misses that were only narrowly avoided during tense moments on the bridge of Normandie. The cruisers Foch and Algiere matched the turn made by the battleships and the whole French formation headed north, leaving the British to lick their wounds. The Force De Raid had lost the light cruiser George Leygues, with Montcalm damaged and out of the action. Richelieu had taken two 15-inch hits and a 21 inch torpedo, but was still seaworthy and able to make 28 knots. Normandie had been unscratched by the British guns, and shrugged off a torpedo from Jim Buckley, but the jab was stiff enough to back her off.
For their part, the British destroyers had acquitted themselves well, finally chasing off the pesky French destroyers. Devonshire and Cumberland had minor damage, though Cumberland’s aft Y turret was out of action. Resolution had taken three hits and a torpedo, but Barham got the worst of the beating with four 15-inch gun hits, the loss of an aft turret, and two torpedoes to the body, both on the same side of the ship. She was listing badly and her Captain Cooke was counter-flooding to try and stabilize the ship.
Resolution moved ahead and took her in tow, and with the two heavy cruisers in attendance, the British squadron limped south, bound for Freetown. De Gaulle fumed when he received word that the planned landing at Dakar would have to be cancelled, and his troop convoy was turned about as well.
“Operation Menace” was over, or so it seemed, but the French also had one last parting shot to administer. Hidden beneath the sea, a doughty knight named Lancelot was peering through his periscope at the ponderous retreat of the British battleships. He quietly turned the nose of his sub, the Beveziers, and fired a pair of torpedoes at the trailing ship, like a wolf singling out a wounded water buffalo. They would both strike home on the badly damaged aft quarter of the ship, and it would be the final blow for old Barham that day.
Already foundering, Barham began to ship more water heavily aft, and the damage was so severe that it was soon evident the venerable old ship would be lost. Captain Cooke got the bulk of his crew off to be pulled out of the heartless sea by the British cruisers. The destroyer squadron churned up the area looking for Captain Lancelot and Beveziers, but to no avail. All things considered, the French Navy would soon realize it had scored its first victory against its old nemesis since the days of Napoleon, when a French squadron in the Indian Ocean, under Guy-
Victor Duperre achieved a victory over a British Royal Navy squadron commanded by Captain Samuel Pym in August 1810.
Britain now concluded that it was facing a dangerous new foe with the French squadrons based at Casablanca and Dakar. This threat, and the shadow looming over the Rock of Gibraltar, now became the focus of the war. When First Sea Lord Dudley Pound learned of the setback, and the details of the battle were forwarded, he immediately began looking for a head to chop off.
The reinforcements Vichy France had sent to Dakar had played a prominent part in the battle. While the light cruisers Georges Leygues, and Montcalm were badly beaten, with the former sunk, three large destroyers that had joined Admiral Plancon’s task force had ended up causing considerable harm after finding their nerve. Pound insisted the ships should have been intercepted as they transited the straits of Gibraltar, and fixed blame for this failure on Admiral North, who was Somerville’s nominal commander at Gibraltar.
As to the conduct of the battle itself, there was much ballyhoo in the reports, and the actions of Christopher Wells were roundly praised. It was decided that his timely air strike had perhaps prevented the loss of the battleship Resolution as well. Wells had received no orders to mount his strike at that time, and did so on his own initiative. While Vice Admiral Cunningham received some criticism for his conduct of the battle, his head did not seem big enough to put on the chopping block. Instead the conduct of Wells was used as an example of proper initiative in time of dire threat, and became the whip the Admiralty used to flay Admiral North for failing to intercept the French reinforcements.
The word soon went forth from Whitehalclass="underline" “ Their Lordships cannot retain full confidence in an officer who fails in an emergency to take all prudent precautions without waiting for Admiralty instructions.” North was soon packing up his desk at Gibraltar, but before he could catch his plane home, other events of a much greater magnitude would overtake him.
News of the French victory echoed in the halls of Berlin, and Hitler’s last reservations over adoption of Operation Felix were put aside. “The French put their battleships to good use,” he crowed as he signed the final orders. Plans for the operation were then given the highest priority, and a meeting was convened with all the principle commanders to finalize matters. At that time, Admiral Raeder emphasized the importance of the Atlantic island outposts in the Azores, Cape Verdes and Canary Islands.
“These must be also considered as primary objectives,” he urged. “They should be one of our main blows against Britain.”
“And how do you propose we get the troops there, Raeder?” Hitler’s question was an obvious one. “You cannot even promise me command of the Denmark Strait! Must I go to the French for naval support in such an operation?”
Raeder reddened under the insult, though the truth behind it was the real sting. The French had just turned back a British operation aimed at Dakar. Might they not then provide the perfect covering force for the extended operations from Gibraltar to Spanish Morocco and the Atlantic Islands? He stiffened as he regarded the map on the conference room table, swallowing his pride and thinking strategically to give the best advice he could.
“What you say is obviously true, my Fuhrer, but the French cannot conduct such an operation alone. The British have just suffered a humiliating defeat, and they will be keen to avenge it. I have little doubt that they are planning reprisals even as we speak. Certainly they will have their eyes on these Atlantic islands, even as we do. The seas around the Azores, for example, are a black hole. That region is too far away for them to provide air cover, and so it makes good hunting grounds for our U-boats. They will want to redress that.”