Authors: Anthony G Williams
The Norwegian government was in disarray.
The British warnings of German intentions had been clear, specific and urgent.
So had the German warnings of British attempts to drive a wedge between Norway and Germany, with the aim of acquiring Norway as an ally.
Evidence had been collected showing that both sides appeared to be mobilising and dispatching naval units towards Norway.
The Cabinet, headed by Prime Minister Nygaardsvold, were painfully aware of their country’s unpreparedness to resist any attack.
After long debate, Nygaardsvold turned wearily to to Defence Minister Ljungberg.
‘We are agreed then.
However unwelcome it may be, it appears likely that we are going to be involved against our will in a conflict between Britain and Germany.
We cannot judge who is telling the truth, but assurances from Hitler have been proved in the past to be worth little.
Furthermore, the British are urging us to mobilise, which they would hardly do if they were intending to attack us.
In the circumstances, we have agreed that we should issue a general mobilisation order immediately.
We can only pray that this will deter any aggression.
If the Germans attack us, we will immediately ask the British for help.
In the meantime, we had better prepare for the evacuation of the government and the Royal Family.’
There was a quiet tension on the bridge of the cruiser
HMS Sheffield
as it ploughed through the rough seas off the coast of northern Norway, just inside the Arctic Circle.
The Coastal Command Wellington had relayed the course and speed of the force; they should intercept it soon.
The lookouts stood with eyes glued to binoculars; it was early evening but at this time of year it never became really dark even at
The first alert was issued from the radar operators in the small cabin behind the bridge.
In response to the Captain’s order, the big cruiser turned and accelerated towards the coast.
Shortly afterwards, the lookouts sang out their warning and the Captain picked up the big 7x50 glasses and focused them on the distant shapes.
‘A cruiser, large single funnel, either
Leipzig
or
Nurnberg
, with five – no six, destroyers in company,’ the First Lieutenant commented, ‘heading for the Vest Fjord.
Have to be on their way to Narvik.’
The Captain grunted.
‘Make a signal to the Admiralty, Number One.
There’s nothing else we can do about it except watch.’
The German force was slowly lost from view as the ships merged with the rugged background of the Norwegian coast.
The Kapitanleutnant commanding U64 watched through his periscope as the British cruiser turned away from the coast and smiled grimly.
Soon, he thought, very soon.
General Nikolas von Falkenhorst leaned back and stretched in his chair, feeling a curious mixture of tiredness, satisfaction and nervous anticipation.
He had still not entirely recovered from the surprise of the personal summons from Hitler which had led to his being given overall command of Operation Weserübung, the invasion of Denmark and Norway.
However, no officer of the Wehrmacht is disconcerted for long, so he had rapidly begun planning the assault in close co-operation with the Kriegsmarine and the Luftwaffe.
His work had not been made easier by the close interest taken by the Führer in the details of the operation, and he had been forced to make certain changes to his initial plans, apparently at the behest of the elderly and rather academic-looking personal assistant who always seemed to be hanging around Hitler.
However, the die was now cast, the plans fixed, the orders given, the forces dispatched.
Denmark was unlikely to put up any resistance, but the planning for Norway had been particularly thorough.
Merchant ships loaded with concealed military stores were already in place in the target ports and other merchant vessels with Marine units in the holds were due to dock just before the main assault began.
Paratroop units had been assigned to take every airfield in Norway to prepare the way for the fleet of over 500 Junkers 52 transports already loaded on their airfields.
He had not been given many ground troops – these were on standby in the West – but there wasn’t room to take many in the aircraft and ships available to him, and the number included some of the best; the Gebirgsjäger of the Second and Third Mountain Divisions under Feuerstein and Dietl.
Admiral Raeder had been particularly co-operative and virtually every major surface unit, as well as most of the submarines, was included in the operation.
Literally above all, some 500 combat aircraft of Fliegerkorps X were providing cover; a mixture of fighters and bombers with an emphasis on anti-shipping capability.
The possible British response was a worry; reconnaissance had revealed a high degree of alertness in the Royal Navy, and Raeder had been concerned about the vulnerability of the northermost group assigned to take Narvik.
However, the tanker with the fuel they would need for the return trip was due to arrive shortly.
Von Falkenhorst checked his watch;
Three hours to get some sleep before the attacks commenced.
Tomorrow would be a long day.
‘Wake up, wake up, it’s begun!’
Don groaned and rolled over in bed as Mary shook him awake.
‘Charles has just called.’
‘Where?’
‘Norway!’
‘Thank God!
What’s the time?’
‘
Don dragged himself out of bed and headed for the bathroom, thankful that he had insisted on a shower being fitted into their Whitehall apartment.
Half an hour later, they were gathered in the so-called ‘Operations Room’; an underground office wallpapered with maps, situated close to a radio communications centre.
Morgan and Taylor were already there in their respective RAF and Army uniforms, together with Harold Johnson, the stocky, dark-haired naval officer who had joined the group as the replacement for David Helmsford.
‘The Oversight Committee is meeting on the floor above if we need to communicate with them,’ commented Charles.
He turned to the military intelligence officers.
‘What’s the current situation?’
‘Few surprises so far,’ stated Johnson briskly.
Don had not got to know him well; Johnson seemed uncomfortable with him and Don suspected that he regarded him as some kind of freak.
‘Oslo is close to falling to a combined assault.
German paratroops have secured Fornebo and Kjeller airfields and transports are flying in reinforcements.
Two pocket battleships – we think they are the
Lützow
and the
Admiral Scheer
– have docked in the harbour along with other vessels, and somewhere between one and two thousand troops have disembarked.’
‘No resistance from the coastal defences?’
Don was surprised, remembering the massive damage inflicted by the handful of defenders in the Oscarborg fortress, who in his time had managed to sink a heavy cruiser.
‘None.
It seems the forts were taken by marines in a surprise attack before the ships went through.’
‘What about the rest?’
‘As expected.
Trondheim, Bergen, Stavanger, Kristiansand and Narvik are all reported to be under attack by a combination of naval forces and paratroops.’
‘Any Norwegian resistance?’
‘Yes, some,’ Taylor chipped in.
‘Our warnings persuaded them to order a general mobilisation yesterday morning, so they were beginning to get themselves organised before the attack.
Even so, they have little but small arms and a few artillery pieces to fight with.
No tanks and no modern aircraft.
The only blessing is that the King and the government just got out of Oslo by the skin of their teeth, after some fighting with troops who came from the German embassy.’
Reports continued to flow in during the morning, describing the progress of the German assault and the movements of British forces in response.
At one point, an unidentified head popped around the door.
‘The wireless is on.
Can you turn on your loudspeaker?’
Mary reached over and turned up the volume as the familiar tones of Chamberlain came through.
Don felt a pang of sympathy for the utter weariness and disillusionment in his voice.
What he said sounded strangely familiar, and Don remembered another occasion, on a
Chamberlain described how at
The Danish government had decided to make no resistance, but the Norwegians were attempting to defend themselves against the unprovoked attack.
However, German forces had landed in several major cities and others had been bombed.
He concluded:
‘I have previously warned Herr Hitler that any such action would be regarded as unacceptable by this country, and have offered assistance to the government of Norway.
At
That assistance is being provided as I speak.
Consequently, this country is now at war with Germany.’
Mary turned off the loudspeaker and Morgan leaned back with a sigh.
‘That’s it, then. The gloves are off at last.’
The Squadron Leader shifted his position in the cockpit of the Gloster Reaper, trying to ease the stiffness of the long flight.
His squadron had taken off from Wick early in the morning, within a few minutes of receiving the command to begin hostilities.
They had been on standby for weeks, with plans prepared and maps and photographs of the target area studied.
After two hours of cruising at an economical 250 mph, southern Norway was spread beneath them.
A sharp warning from his wingman alerted him to the distant shapes of aircraft ahead and below.
He gave a brief command to his squadron, jettisoned the remaining drop-tank and pushed down the nose of the Reaper.
The note of twin Merlin engines rose in pitch as the ASI swung towards and past the 400 mph mark.
The aircraft ahead were clearly recognisable as Ju 52 transports, part of the shuttle service he had been warned to look out for, delivering reinforcements and supplies to the invading German Army.
No fighter escort was evident so the lumbering transports would stand no chance.
He armed the four 20 mm Hispanos and curved into the attack.
The Lieutenant-Commander brought
HMS Seawolf
back up to periscope depth for a final check.
Once again he saw the purposeful shape of a pocket battleship approaching, this time heading south away from Oslo.
The destroyer escort did not seem to have detected him.
‘Down periscope.
Stand by all tubes.’
As the seconds dragged into minutes, a new sound familiar from training exercises slowly strengthened: the regular ‘ping’ of an Asdic pulse.
They’re not supposed to have that, he thought.
We can hear their pulse before they will be able to hear the echo, but for how long?
‘Up periscope.’
A further pause, the tension palpable.
The Lieutenant-Commander tried to ignore the daunting head-on view of a destroyer racing towards his position, and concentrated on the big ship beyond.
‘Fire one – two – three – four;
Eighty
feet; Down periscope; Steer one-eighty; Full ahead both.’
The commands rapped out in rapid succession and the boat started violent evasive action as the destroyer raced overhead.
A few terrible seconds of silence, then the boat was hurled down and sideways as the huge hammers of the shock-waves from exploding depth-charges slammed into the hull.
He watched the gauges anxiously; this close to the Swedish coast, the Skagerrak was shallow and he must be close to the bottom.
On the other hand, this would make Asdic much less effective.
‘Stop both; Silent routine; Damage report.’
The boat slowed, gradually sinking towards the bottom as the slight negative buoyancy took effect.
Renewed pinging grew in volume and the crew held their breath.
The destroyer was travelling slowly, listening for them.
Suddenly two distant ‘crumps’ were audible through the boat and a cheer was quickly stifled.
They had scored hits!
The destroyer’s screws speeded up again then faded into the distance as it turned to help the stricken pocket-battleship.
The
Seawolf
bumped gently onto the bottom.