CHAPTER EIGHT

BREAKING GERMAN CODE

All German instructions to its air, naval and army forces were signalled by wireless in code. Germany had developed before the war a sophisticated coding machine called Enigma, a Greek word for puzzle. Messages were typed in clear language on the machine's typewriter keyboard. Enigma then switched each letter to a coded letter. The code could be changed by alternating cogs of the machine. At the receiving end another enigma machine translated the message back into clear. The cogs were altered frequently to keep changing the code.

Early in the German invasion of Poland which began World War II, an enigma machine fell into the hands of some Pole soldiers. They transferred it to a British secret service agent who got it back to England. Only a handful of Poles knew about the capture of the machine. The Germans suspected them but under torture they did not reveal any knowledge of it. A large team of scientists were assembled in Britain, including the best university mathematical brains, with the task of trying to break enigma's coding system. They succeeded and, incredibly, also managed to keep pace with German changes in the code. It was one of the most crucial influences on the eventual Allied victory in the war.

The intelligence gleaned by the British team breaking enigma codes was collated into top secret British reports called Ultra. So secret did Ultra have to be kept that it was seen only by King George VI, British Prime Minister Winston Churchill, President Roosevelt of the United States of America and a very limited number of top brass Allied service chiefs. This was to limit the risk of a leak alerting the Germans to the fact that their code had been compromised. Germany 's belief in the absolute security of enigma provided one of the best hopes of an ultimate Allied victory.

Consequently, the Allies did not act upon German intelligence transmitted by enigma unless a plausible alternative source for the information could be apparent. Thus when Ultra alerted Middle East Command to the composition, sailing times and routes of the enemy convoys we were attacking the Germans had to be made to believe that we had another source of information. One was created. A British soldier who had escaped from Crete after the island was overrun by the Germans in May 1941 volunteered to go back to Crete with a wireless transmitter to send messages back to Egypt indicating what was being loaded at Suda Bay, naming the vessels and confirming the sailing time of a convoy. We were told of the existence of this man whom we called “Charlie” but we did not learn until war's end about enigma and ultra. The Germans were obviously aware of “Charlie's” existence because they would have heard his signals. They hunted for him relentlessly but he moved from cave to cave in the mountains behind Suda Bay and managed to evade capture. He was supplied by R.A.F. airdrops and assisted by the Crete resistance forces.

If the Germans wondered about the R.A.F's uncanny knack of intercepting their convoys, their interception of “Charlie's” signals would have provided them with a plausible explanation - and their faith in enigma certainly appeared to be unfettered. There was no indication that they suspected their coding had been compromised.

The Ultra intelligence backed up by Charlie's signals meant that instead of our aeroplanes having to patrol wide areas of the Mediterranean in the hope of stumbling across an enemy convoy, our strength could be husbanded and directed to exact target positions. The success we had in stopping supplies reaching the German Afrika Korps was far and away out of all proportion to the number of aeroplanes that we had at our disposal.

The German convoys always split mid-way across the Mediterranean, each section altering course 45 degrees for a time before intending (if any ships remained intact) to converge for the approach to Tobruk Harbour.

It was one thing to know from enigma the route of a convoy and the time and position it would split (which became our target point) but it was another thing to find the ships in the middle of the night. Radar was the essential factor in this interception. The enemy would know we had some form of airborne radar. Their convoy destroyer escorts would no doubt have detected our radar signals. That was possibly, and fortuitously, another factor belying any suspicion that enigma may have been compromised.

Radar, an acronym for radio direction and range, was developed by the British before the war. Initially it operated only from ground stations which broadcast wireless signals which bounced back off a target. The direction of the target was established and the time the signal took to bounce back established the range. It was a vital factor in the Battle of Britain in providing warning of incoming German air raids and assisting in their interception.

The original radar equipment was much too cumbersome to be carried in an aeroplane. Then the British developed a cavity magnetron which generated short-wave electronic beams which made centimetric radar possible. This equipment was compact enough to be installed in an aeroplane. Without it my squadron would not have had the spectacular success in intercepting enemy convoys. The destruction of these convoys was a vital factor in the eventual defeat of Rommel's Afrika Korps. And airborne radar made a major contribution to defeating the German U Boat attacks on Atlantic convoys. But more about the Battle of the Atlantic later.

At the beginning of August, 1942, my crew flew to St Jean just north of Haifa in Palestine. It was a temporary secondment. From there on the night of August 10 we escorted a British convoy of three merchant ships which had sailed from Alexandria where enemy agents were led to believe it was bound for Malta. The intention was that this convoy, which was escorted by six Royal Navy destroyers, would divert enemy attention from convoy “Pedestal” endeavouring to break through from Gibraltar with vital petrol, munitions and food for beleaguered Malta. But the enemy was not to be diverted. Neither ourselves nor the navy made any contact with German U boats thought to be operating in the eastern end of the Mediterranean. But at the other end of the Mediterranean only four ships from “Pedestal” got through to Malta.The rest were sunk in vicious enemy air attacks.

On the night of August 15 I provided anti-U Boat air cover to a British cruiser squadron, H.M.S. Arethusa, and H.M.S. Cleopatra and a flotilla of destroyers returning to Port Said after bombarding a German fortress on Rhode Island in Greece. No U Boat was sighted.

About this time I lost my very efficient American second pilot, Joe Des Champs. America was of course in the war by now and had bomber squadrons arriving in the Middle East. Earlier they had made overtures to Joe to transfer to the United States Air Force. He had at first declined, expressing contentment with being with the R.A.F. But the American authorities persisted, offering him officer rank as captain, the immediate award of one of their highest flying decorations in recognition of his service with the R.A.F and a big jump in pay from sergeant in the R.A.F. to captain in the U.S.A.F. It was all too attractive.So eventually he could resist no longer and he left the R.A.F.

I saw him several months later at Benghazi when he was captaining a Liberator bomber on raids on Naples, Italy . He was not entirely happy with U.S. tactics of reaching the target at the same height and the same time night after night. Joe facetiously commented that he reckoned the Italians set their anti-aircraft guns to automatic at the same height and same time every night and then went off to drink wine in a safe area. I lost touch with Joe and do not know whether he survived the war. My replacement second pilot was an Englishman who was not proficient. I had little confidence in him.

Our secondment to Palestine was only for a short time. On the night of September 1, 1942, I was back on enemy convoy attacks. After locating a convoy I homed a Wellington torpedo bomber (a “fishington”) of 38 Squadron. We dropped flares to illuminate the target and at 0255 hours the “fishington” launched its attack with two torpedoes. We had an awesome grandstand view of a merchant ship blowing up. A week later we again illuminated for a 38 Squadron torpedo “fishington” and again saw a ship burst into a flaming explosion.

One night we had a narrow squeak, or as we would say in RafTalk. a dicey do, when illuminating a convoy. After locating, the technique was to drop a pattern of parachute flares. A flare canister was placed in a chute in the side of the fuselage. The flare lanyard was secured to the chute so that when the flare was expelled the lanyard tightened and set off a timing device to open the parachute and ignite the flare when it was about 50 feet below and behind the aeroplane. The navigator was responsible for launching the flares. This night Johnnie Devine did not correctly position the flare canister in the chute. When he pushed it out it stuck in the chute. But a tangled lanyard set off the timing device. This created the risk that the flare would ignite while still in the chute with the possible consequence of setting the aeroplane on fire. Johnnie Devine yelled into the intercom to report the trouble. I jumped out of the pilot's seat, delegating the controls to the second pilot, and clambered back to the chute. I grabbed the axe which was standard equipment in Wimpys so that, in the event of a crash, crew could hack themselves out of the aeroplane. I hacked the flare chute clean out of the side of the fuselage a second or two before the parachute sprung open. Fortunately it cleared the tailplane. A moment later the flare ignited safely clear of the aeroplane. I, and more particularly Johnnie Devine, breathed a sigh of relief.

In early October I was on enemy convoy search when we encountered a severe electrical storm. The aeroplane was buffeted by heavy turbulence. A circle of blue light called St Elmo's fire spun off the propeller tips. The Wimpy was difficult to control. The wireless was knocked out by lightning. Consequently we did not receive a signal from Middle East Command recalling all aircraft. So, alone in the sky that night, we ploughed on to the estimated point of intercepting the convoy. But we made no contact. On return to base we learnt that the storm had kept the convoy in port at Suda Bay in Crete. We had a very rough ride all for nothing. A week later 221 Squadron received notice of posting to Malta to operate from there against enemy convoys. But before we took off the posting was called off.

As we could not hope to keep secret from the enemy that we had airborne radar, it was not unexpected that the Germans took counter measures by setting up a radar jammer. Some of our squadron crews reported on returning to base that their radar was unserviceable. But when it was checked no faults were found. Jamming was therefore suspected. The position of the jammer was elusive. Indeed it appeared to be moving about. Was it on motor transport driving along the desert road? Trouble was it had not been possible to home on to it to establish its location because initially none our aircrew radar operators had been able to lock on to it clearly enough to establish a bearing on it.

On the night of October 7, 1942, I was on the first wave of search aircraft. We encountered severe radar jamming. My radar operator, Danny Daniels, delicately tuned his receiver until he was able to report to me on the intercom that he believed he could identify a blip from a jammer and that he hoped he could home me on to the source. For twenty minutes I steered the course he gave me. When he said the jammer was about three miles ahead I was astonished to see in that position a brilliantly illuminated enemy hospital ship heading north, presumably with wounded troops. I could not believe that a hospital ship would be carrying a jammer. Under international code of conduct for war, hospital ships were not allowed to be armed or to be militarily aggressive.

To test my disbelief I flew away for another twenty minutes with the idea of having Danny recheck his bearing. Again he reported being able to read a blip through the mush on his screen. Again he homed me directly to the hospital ship. This confirmed in my mind that it was carrying the jammer and this would explain why its location had appeared to be moving.

Our reporting at debriefing on return to base our conviction that the jammer was on an enemy hospital ship was at first met with disbelief but it created an immediate flap at Middle East Command. But Command was loathe to concede that a sergeant radar operator could have the skill to break through the jamming. It believed that only radar boffins (research scientists) were capable of that. So two boffins were dispatched post haste from Britain to Egypt. They flew out into the Mediterranean on two successive nights, encountered the jamming, but were unable to locate its source.The third night the boffins flew with me. We again encountered the jamming. They watched Danny break through it and vector me to a hospital ship. Now they, and subsequently the top brass in Middle East Command, accepted that the enemy was carrying a radar jammer on a hospital ship. Germany was advised by a signal sent through a neutral country that if the hospital ship did not cease jamming within 24 hours it would be regarded as a hostile target and would be bombed. Just on 23 hours later the jamming ended and was never resumed. I recommended Danny for the award of a Distinguished Flying Medal (D.F.M.) for his skill in breaking through the jamming. But he was not awarded. It always seemed to us that decorations were not necessarily made on merit but rather on a quota system. Presumably the quota was full for that month!

By now Rommel's Afrika Korps had advanced headlong eastward to threaten Egypt. It was halted by the British 8th Army at El Alamein , only about 80 miles short of Alexandria , the Royal Navy's essential base in the Mediterranean . El Alamein was virtually the only feasible defensive line for the British because, fortuitously, it was situated on a very narrow passage in the desert. Close by on the north lay the sea and the defenders could not be outflanked in the south because of the Qattara Depression which was only four miles from the coast.The depression is a salt marsh lying below sea level under sheer cliffs. It was a natural barrier to the movement of tanks, artillery and troop transports.

Rommel was inhibited from launching an all out frontal attack on the 8th Army because he needed time to build up his supplies of fuel and munitions,of which he had been largely deprived by the failure of his supply convoys to break our blockade.

For three months the opposing armies faced each other at El Alamein in an apparent stalemate. Then the new British Army Commander, General Montgomery prepared to launch an attack on the Germans. We were aware the offensive was about to begin. The Air Officer Commanding Middle East, Air Marshal Arthur Tedder (subsequently Air Chief Marshal Lord Tedder, deputy to the American General Dwight Eisenhower, Supreme Commander of the Allied invasion of Normandy in 1944) visited every air force squadron in the Middle East to brief us on the plans of the 8th Army's new commander to launch an attack against Rommel's Afrika Korps at El Alamein. We sat on the desert in a group as Tedder outlined on a blackboard the plan of the 8th Army's offensive. He left us in no doubt of the importance of our role in stopping enemy supply convoys reaching Rommel. Taking us thus into the leaders' confidence did a great deal to lift morale. Montgomery had similarly briefed all army units.

In the three weeks leading up to the Battle of El Alamein, not one German supply ship got through our Mediterranean air blockade .If the night attacks at sea by our squadron or squadrons operating out of Malta failed to destroy all the ships in convoys from Crete, bomber squadrons which did not have the aid of radar “night eyes”, were waiting to strike at first light off over the approaches to Tobruk. Night bombing raids also were launched on Tobruk harbour to make sure no ships had got through to unload. Rommel became desperate for supplies. He was mainly dependent on what the Luftwaffe's JU52 transport aircraft could fly across from Crete at night. But that was little more than a trickle. It was far short of his needs.

The Battle of El Alamein Allied offensive began at 2200 hours on the night of October 23,1942 , with what was then the biggest artillery barrage in history.I was outward bound to an enemy convoy that night , crossing the coast near El Alamein just as the barrage opened. It was an awesome sight.

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