Kingsmill's burning plane, with the engine shot away, glided silently towards the water. The crew saw the second flight of three Swordfish, led by Sub-Lt. Thompson, approaching the Prinz Eugen at 100 feet, and Kingsmill, unable to gain height, flew underneath them. This was the last time anyone saw these three planes.
Thompson's three Swordfish limped on, their fuselages tattered canvas ribbons, their crews wounded or dying. Still maintaining a steady course, they flew into the red and orange wall of exploding shells. The three Swordfish with their nine young aircrew were never seen again. One after another, they were blown to pieces. Not a trace of any was ever found.
As Kingsmill's Swordfish, with blood dripping through rips in the fuselage, came down to ditch near a couple of boats which Samples had thought were MTBs, they opened fire. They were German E-boats. Samples paid for his mistake by receiving a bullet in his bottom, but Kingsmill managed to turn his plane away and land down near some small British ships which were coming towards them. Kingsmill recalls, "I managed to put her down in what I now immodestly claim was a perfect landing. It was very choppy with quite big waves, but I felt no feeling of cold at all."
Wearing their yellow life-jackets, they tried to haul themselves out of the cockpits. Kingsmill and Bunce jumped into the sea because their dinghy had been destroyed in the burning wing, but Samples went down with the plane. He had forgotten he had a G-string hooked between his legs to prevent his falling out when the plane rolled and turned. It dragged him down with the plane and, half-drowning, he fumbled to free himself. It seemed like hours, although it only took a few seconds before he managed to untie himself and float exhausted to the surface.
From the German battleships, the brave Fleet Air Arm fliers seemed like far-away dots. The ships saw their torpedoes running but swung away and all of them missed. From the bridge of Scharnhorst, German fighters were seen shooting at two Swordfish which dived on Prinz Eugen. Gneisenau could be seen zigzagging and shooting down Thompson's flight of three.
As he watched the tiny smoking specks falling into the sea through his binoculars, Captain Hoffmann muttered, "Poor fellows. They are so very slow. It is nothing but suicide for them to fly against these big ships."
Everyone on the battleships' bridges felt the same. As they watched the forlorn attack, the English coastline could be dimly and intermittentily seen from the German ships. Aboard Scharnhorst Wilhelm Wolf, watching the flames of the fleet's flak guns, thought: "What an heroic stage for them to meet their end on. Behind them, their purpose, is still in view."
Navigator Giessler said, "Such bravery was devoted and incredible. One was privileged to witness it. Although they were shot down by our anti-aircraft fire before they could get into position to release their loads, they knowingly and ungrudgingly gave their all to their country and went to their doom without hesitation."
The heroic, incredible, Swordfish attack was over. As the last of the six torpedo planes blew up and splashed into the sea, the German fighters gave a victory roll over the ships before resuming their patrol. It was 12:45 p.m. They had only taken off twenty minutes before. The Germans could not believe it was finished. Prinz Eugens flak commander Schmalenbach said, "We expected them to be the first wave of a massive attack by hundreds of planes and my gunners waited tensely for it to happen. But nothing else came."
There were only five survivors out of eighteen who had flown into the hail of fire. Brian Rose and Edgar Lee were crouched in their dinghy shivering from the freezing spray. With stiff fingers, Lee managed to fire a rocket, but when they saw an MTB approaching he was convinced it was a German boat. Then they heard English voices, and one of Hilary Gamble's MTB crew jumped overboard into the icy sea and tied the dinghy alongside their boat, while other sailors swarmed down to lift up the airmen. A few minutes later Rose was wrapped in a blanket and Lee, wearing a towel, was sipping the one drink he detests — rum.
A mine-sweeper saw KingsmiU's crew crash and raced over to them. They threw down a rope climbing net from the deck. When Bunce was trying to push Samples, who was badly wounded, on to the net, someone called out from the ship, "If you're all right, sailor, climb aboard and leave him to us!" As he began to climb up, several of the ship's crew dived into the water and began hauling Kingsmill and Samples up the net.
They dragged Samples up last. When they laid him on deck Kingsmill and Bunce were already below in the rolling ship. He was shivering with cold and shock. There was no more room below for him and they had no more blankets. To prevent him dying of exposure, a big sailor lay on top of him to try and warm him up. The sea was very choppy and every now and again as the boat gave a lurch he said politely to Samples, "Excuse me, sir, I am not used to these small ships. I have always served on bigger ships." He kept leaving the shivering observer to stagger to the side and vomit violently. Then he would come back and lie on him again. Samples began to dread his return; the smell of vomit was worse than the cold and his wounds.
Samples recalls, "I was very upset about my shivering. I was only 23 and thought it would look as if I were frightened. But I will never forget the most pleasurable experience of my life. When I got to Ramsgate they put a semi-circular cage with a radiant heater over the lower half of my body in hospital. I stopped shaking like a leaf when the warmth and feeling came back. It was a sensation that has never been equalled. Being so young I was terribly embarrassed when they tended to my wounds, and nurses stood by whilst doctors picked the German E-boat shrapnel out of my bottom."
While Esmonde's Swordfish and Kingcombe's Spitfires were giving the Germans their first real taste of opposition, where were the rest of the RAF fighters? The other four squadrons— two from Biggin Hill and two from Hornchurch — either took off too late or lost their way in the mist. When those Spitfire squadrons finally arrived, it was nearly 1 p.m. and the Swordfish battle was already over.
Two Spitfire squadrons from Hornchurch—64 and the 411 Canadian — were ordered to rendezvous with the Swordfish at 12:30 p.m. But 64 Squadron did not arrive over Manston until 12:45 p.m. to find the Swordfish gone. Ten aircraft set course for Calais, patrolled for a short time but saw nothing and flew back to their base in Essex.
The Canadian 411 Squadron, led by Sq. Ldr. R. B. Newton and Wing-Cdr. Powell, found the battleships after the Sword-fish had been shot down and were fired upon by flak ships, but did not engage in any other action.
The other two Biggin Hill squadrons of twenty-six fighters who were supposed to join Kingcombe's ten Spitfires in keeping the German fighters off the Swordfish were also a vital quarter of an hour late. When they climbed to attack the Luftwaffe umbrella, the Swordfish had already been shot down.
One of them, the 401 Canadian Squadron, reached the ships at 1 p.m. German fighters tore towards them, and Pilot Officer Ian Ormston shot down one ME and damaged another.
Biggin Hill's third squadron, 124, although airborne at 12:20, also missed the Swordfish but had dog-fights over the Channel with the Luftwaffe.
The squadrons behaved with great bravery, but their attacks made no difference to the outcome of the Swordfish battle. They had missed the Swordfish through a combination of inefficient ground work and bad weather, causing them to lose their way.