While the four Beauforts of 217 Squadron were circling uselessly over Manston, 42 Squadron was also running into trouble. Just as the German battleships were approaching the Dover Straits, the squadron landed at Coltishall from Leuchars at 11:45 a.m. It had been delayed by the weather and ground difficulties. Although the Coltishall controller, Sq. Ldr. Roger Frankland, knew about the break-out of the battleships it was only on the "old boy net." Other senior officers were under the strictest orders not to divulge the reason for the operation to the aircrews. Said Frankland, "I have never had an explanation of it. The Beaufort squadron were sent out to look for a convoy. I did not question this stupid secrecy at the time but now it looks bloody silly!"
Coltishall was a fighter base and three of the Beauforts landed unarmed. North Coates, 150 miles away near Grimsby, possessed a Mobile Torpedo Servicing Unit which was at once ordered to Coltishall. The RAF told the police of the urgency and they supplied a siren-wailing motor-cycle escort to clear the road. They need not have bothered.
The Mobile Torpedo Servicing Unit had not been called upon since the outbreak of war — over two years before — and was wrapped in a trance-like euphoria. If they had rushed the torpedoes and compressed air in half a dozen lorries, they could have reached Coltishall in three hours, but instead they crawled out of North Coates in a lengthy procession. This majestic slowness, aggravated by icy roads, caused the "Immobile Unit" as it was later cruelly dubbed, to arrive at Coltishall just as Ciliax's battleships reached German waters.
This was only the beginning of the disasters that befell 42 Squadron. Apart from the tortoise-like behaviour of the Torpedo Unit, which immobilized three Beauforts, two aircraft developed mechanical trouble when the squadron landed.
Like 217 Beaufort Squadron from Thorney Island, the serviceable Beauforts were held back for the other five. They were delayed for the incredible period of two and a half hours. It was not until 2:16 p.m. that the nine operational Beauforts, led by Sq. Ldr. W. H. Cliff, headed for Manston. A signal was sent to Manston to expect them at 2:50 p.m. They arrived only three minutes late.
According to their flight plan, given to them at Coltishall before they took off for Manston, they were to follow the 407 Canadian Squadron of Hudsons to the Dutch coast. These Hudsons were to provide diversionary bombing of the battleships to draw off the flak while torpedo bombers attacked. Both squadrons were to be protected by Spitfires.
When the nine Beauforts arrived over Manston at 2:53 p.m. for once the co-ordination was perfect. Eleven Hudson bombers were waiting in the air and a score of Spitfires circled above them. Obeying their orders, the Beauforts formed up on the tails of the Hudsons. But instead of leading them out to sea, the Hudsons turned tightly and formed behind the Beauforts. The Beaufort commander Cliff, still carrying out his orders, reformed again behind the Hudsons once again turned and circled behind the Beauforts.
Why this ridiculous ring-a-ring-a-roses? The Hudsons were waiting for orders. Once again Wing-Corn mander Gleave and his staff tried frantically and unsuccessfully to reach them — by Morse, while the planes had just been fitted with radio telephone. No one had told Manston.
As Carson had done two hours before, Cliff decided he had had enough of this futile follow-my-leader, and led his aircraft out to sea. He was technically disobeying orders, as he headed towards the area where he had been told by Coltishall the "German convoy" would be. Six Hudsons decided to follow him, hugging the tail of the last Beaufort. The other five Hudsons remained circling over Manston for another half an hour. At 4 p.m. they turned and set course for their home base at Bircham Newton. It was not their fault. No one had told them where to go, what to look for — in fact no one managed to communicate any orders at all.
Cliff led his Beauforts and the six Hudsons across the North Sea in thick cloud and light rain. It was not long before the Hudsons lost touch with him. Soon afterwards the Hudsons' radar began to "blip." Diving beneath the clouds, they sighted some German ships to starboard. They swooped through the flak and dropped their bombs on the E-boats and destroyers. Two Hudsons were shot down in this brave attack.
While the torpedo-carrying Beauforts were struggling against the continuing ground muddle, Bomber Command finally came to life.
Bomber Command was between commanders. Air Marshal Sir Richard Peirse had relinquished command at the beginning of January, and Air Vice-Marshal Arthur "Bomber" Harris was in America and was not due to take over for ten days.
Since 4 February, 300 bombers had been ordered on a two-hour standby for "Fuller." But this had meant these bombers had to drop out of nightly attacks against Germany, which Bomber Command saw as their chief task. In view of this, the Air Ministry made a request to the Admiralty to remove the stand-by ordered on behalf of the Navy. The Admiralty would not agree, arguing that the break-out was more likely than ever.
In spite of this, Bomber Command decided to hold only 100 aircraft ready for "Fuller." They reverted to normal stand-by working with the remainder. But RAF staff officers omitted to tell anyone of this decision. As a result, when the German ships were reported after midday in the Straits of Dover, it was not until nearly three hours after the alarm that the first bombers were airborne.
Although 242 bombers were sent up, they proved practically useless. Courageous aircrews in formidable aircraft were sent on a mission in which everything was against them. The most operationally experienced bomber crews in the world, they were trained for high-level night bombing of static targets — not a needle-in-a-haystack operation of trying to find and hit fast-moving battleships in the poorest visibility. Also most of them had been bombing Germany the night before.
They set off in three waves. At 2:20 p.m., the first wave of seventy-three bombers took off. It was a hasty, disorganized attack, the planes flying either singly or in pairs. On this cold, overcast winter's afternoon, they swarmed out over the North Sea towards the Dutch coast with thick cloud hanging only a few hundred feet over the waves. When their perspex froze, it was difficult to see, and their heavily-iced wings made flying even more perilous.
Meanwhile, the three remaining Beauforts of 217 Squadron, which had been left behind at Thorney Island, arrived over Manston. The three pilots also knew nothing about the German battleships. However, the leader, Pilot Officer J. A. Etheridge, had sense enough to land and ask for orders. He was immediately briefed by Gleave and his staff and set off in the right direction. For once the instructions were absolutely accurate.
When his Beaufort broke cloud, he found himself right above the German battle squadron. Etheridge, ringed with a flak barrage, took a wide swing over the Dutch coast but his aircraft was hit in several places. His wireless operator had his arm broken by shell splinters, then a cannon shell shot away the torpedo release gear. Unable to launch his torpedo, he turned back for England.
The second Beaufort, piloted by Pilot Officer T. A. Stewart, was attacked by two Messerschmitts. As a cannon shell ploughed through the Beaufort's tailplane, Sergeant Bowen, his gunner, fired a long burst at one of them. The Messerschmitt went spiralling down towards the sea with smoke pouring from it.
The third Beaufort, piloted by Sergeant Rout on his first operational flight, flew low through the flak barrage to drop its torpedo. FW 190s pounced on his tail and he was wounded in the hand by a shell. His wireless operator had a bullet wound in the arm and leg, and his rear-gunner had been seriously wounded when a splinter from the shattered windscreen perspex hit him in the right eye. The aircraft caught fire, but despite their wounds the crew crawled about painfully and put out the flames.