The fleet was already on four hour standby, the boilers fired up on the ships at anchor, the crews called in, fuel tanks topped off. Cruisers, always the eyes and ears of the fleet, had already been dispatched to patrol stations on the most likely courses an enemy ship could take to the Atlantic. They had Norfolk and Suffolk scheduled to watch the Denmark Strait, and the wider passage between Iceland and the Faeroes would be patrolled by the cruisers, Arethusa, Manchester and Birmingham, assisted by a gang of local trawlers given the sea area involved.
The news that arrived that evening had an immediate effect. Admiral John “Jack” Tovey was a big, amiable, and sometimes bawdy man, quick to smile but just as likely to redden up with a temper when things did not suit him. Headstrong at times, even relentless, he had a coolness under fire that was as much derived from his obstinate will and his insistence on doing what he deemed most appropriate in any situation.
He was a sea going admiral, seeing the duty aboard ship as essential to morale. What was good enough for his sailors was good enough for him, and his men had both great admiration and respect for him. A natural leader, Tovey was a student of tactics and ship handling, as capable a captain as the Royal Navy possessed until he was promoted to acting Admiral of the Home Fleet. The man at sea, he believed, had the best information at hand to make a decision in any engagement. As such he sometimes resented the overweening interference by desk laden officers in the Admiralty, including the First Sea Lord, Admiral Pound, who had a predilection for sticking his thumb in the pie whenever possible.
Aboard King George V, Tovey was restless and worried tonight. He remembered those long months, early in the war aboard the cruiser Galatea, where he had slogged from one end of the Med to the other in long, dull escort cruises for steamers and cargo convoys in 1940. He eventually handed that command over to another man, finding himself marooned on Malta for a time with little more than a handful of old Australian destroyers to command. Yet, as fortune would have it, he was not aboard his old ship when Galetea was torpedoed off Alexandria by U-557, and went down with a loss of her captain, 27 officers and 447 ratings.
He didn’t linger on the island long. Italy entered the war, Tovey got a cruiser squadron back and had a chance or two to try and prove some of the aggressive tactics he so strongly advocated. Months later he had come to his new assignment in Scapa Flow with his flag planted aboard the inter-war battleship Nelson. Yet he was glad to get the much more modern ship he had now. He believed King George V was a match for anything the Germans could sail against him, and he was determined to prove as much.
The weather had been worsening that night, with rain and low clouds, and Air Command had little in the way of new information for him. The news that the Germans had put to sea electrified him, as it confirmed his own worst suspicions as he had watched the clouds thicken on the horizon that evening.
“Funny thing about this intercept,” he said to his Chief of Staff Brind, “It seems to have a fairly muddled origin. Even the call sign used was an independent. Who is this ‘Lonesome Dove?’ It didn’t come in from our usual sources. What do you make of that?”
”Well, sir,” said Brind. “The Admiralty must have considered that question, and if they chose to pass it on they must have satisfied themselves.”
“I suppose you’re right, but yet we’ve had no confirmation?”
“Air Command isn’t likely to get us anything with this weather, sir.”
“What could she be up to, Brind?”
Prematurely gray for his age, Patrick “Daddy” Brind was equally cool in demeanor, a perfect Chief of Staff. With the ability to keep and analyze vast amounts of information, he could give a sensible, clear appraisal of most any situation.
“Could be anything, sir. She might be escorting a convoy up to Trondheim, then again she could just as easily be the nucleus of a raiding force bound for Iceland. The Germans know how valuable our position is there.”
“Quite,” said Tovey. “Yet it’s even more likely that she’ll try for a breakout to the Atlantic. What do we have out there at the moment?”
“Admiralty reports convoys SC-31 and HX-126 inbound, and presently south of Iceland. There’s three more off the coast of Ireland, including the troop transport Britannic with HMS Rodney escorting her, sir.”
“Yes… Thought Tovey. We may end up needing Rodney if worse comes to worse. In any event, we’d best get steam up and put some heavy ships to sea.” Tovey was worried about jumping the gun, wasting valuable fuel and possibly even revealing his cards to the Germans at the same time. But given this information there was little else he could do.
“Signal Hood and Prince of Wales to make for the Denmark Strait as planned. They can refuel at Iceland and take up station there with Norfolk and Suffolk. And we’ll move shortly as well. I intend to take out King George V in four hours. Repulse will join us at sea. I’m still wondering about Victorious. She’s only got a handful of planes and air crews, and not a lick of real experience in the lot.”
“She did put in a satisfactory exercise this afternoon,” said Brind.
“That she did, but I wasn’t comforted with the conversation we had with their Senior Squadron Commander. Those men are raw fruit. Never landed on the deck of a carrier before their arrival here. And they’ve no experience making torpedo attacks either. I’m not sure what good they’ll be to us in a situation like this.”
“Yet having a carrier with us, even with a very few planes, could prove useful,” said Brind. “We can fly them off in air search missions—extend our eyes should Bismarck manage to slip out. It’s a big ocean out there and we’re stretched all too thin.”
“I suppose you have a point in that,” said Tovey. “Very well. Victorious will come along then. I want to be ready to sail just after midnight.”
“Aye, sir. I’ll see that the orders are sent.”
“By lamp,” said Tovey. “We’re to observe strict radio silence from this moment on. No use letting the Germans know we’re on to Bismarck, eh? I had a hunch that devil had put out to sea. Only I didn’t think we’d possibly get confirmation for another day or longer. With this news we’ve saved at least 24 hours. I don’t know who this Lonesome Dove is, but I’m glad he flew my way. Let’s get to sea!”
Hood and Prince of Wales threw off their moorings, slipped out though the anti-submarine netting and were out to sea in short order. Tovey would follow with the rest of Home Fleet four hours later. Word went out to all cruisers on patrol to be especially vigilant, then orders were given to enforce radio silence unless any cruiser had a confirmed enemy sighting. In the meantime, it was incumbent upon Admiral Tovey to get heavy assets into a position to intercept the German task force at the earliest opportunity. Bismarck would be sailing with the eight inch gun cruiser Prince Eugen, and together they would prove a formidable battle force. Though the great German battleship had yet to fire her main 15 inch guns in anger, her design and specification, as known to Tovey at that time, were ominously impressive.
It was therefore his intention to send no less than two capital ships against her in any engagement. His own flag ship was a modern design, one of the fleet’s newer additions, built with the prospect of a second war in mind and launched in February of 1939. Most of the Fleet still sailed in ships dating back to the First World War, however. In fact the old lady, HMS Hood, had her keel laid in 1916 and launched two years later. While she was the pride of the fleet, she had been built with considerable firepower while sacrificing armor for speed. She could run out to 31 knots in her early sea trials, but by 1941 her best practical speed was 28 knots, still fast for a vessel carrying eight big 15 inch guns. Yet her deck armor was thin, less than an inch in some places and no more than three inches at best.