I am extremely gratefull to Ralph Brigginshaw for his ‘memories’ and all his wonderfull photo’s, and to Ron Cope for his hard work in tracking him down. Ralph was born in the village of Chiseldon near Swindon in 1920. He left school at14 which was not unusual in those days. He joined the Navy in July 1935 as a ‘Boy Sailor’ at H.M.S. St.Vincent. He had two brothers who also served in the Navy during the war. On completing his basic training and ‘Signalmans’ course he initially served time on the battleships ‘Rodney’ and ‘Warwick “ a ‘V’ and ‘W’ destroyer during the 1938 crisis.

HMS Rodney in Plymouth Sound

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After a spell at Devonport barracks at the age of nineteen he joined ‘Hardy’ and in August 1939 he sailed with the ship to the ‘Med’. The ship’s deployment there just prior to the outbreak of war has previously been described by other crew members.

Ralph Brigginshaw

When ‘Hardy’ returned to Devonport after “a mad rush back from Freetown” in West Africa, leave was granted. This was February 1940 and going to be the last he saw of his family for a considerable time. Leave to all watches completed ‘Hardy’ sailed for Scapa Flow. It was here that all the crew were given the opportunity to write their last letters home prior to going on operations in the North Sea and eventually ‘Narvik’. The ‘Hardy’ finally arriving at Narvik, Ralph recalls, “my action station was on the flagdeck and I remember the first run into the harbour. A lot of damage was done but I noticed two torpedoes missed their targets. It was exciting having a good view of the action from the flagdeck”. He goes on to say, that “later on the third run as we turned to starboard I saw three German destroyers approaching also to starboard. It was then a shell came through the flagdeck and the wheelhouse next to us. I remember thinking ‘what a hell of a mess’. I was hit in the centre of my back and arm by shrapnel. I realised I had no use of my arm. My mate Signalman ‘Ginger’ (Cuthbert) Turner had also been wounded.

HMS St. Vincent

He continues to describe that both of them with other wounded men were eventually put into a ‘whaler’. However, he states, “it was full of holes and sank. I was helped out by Yeoman Thatcher. I said ‘I’ve had enough’ but he replied, ‘don’t be bloody silly’. I was then unconscious for three days. I had been taken to a hospital at Ballangen and was awakened by a loud bang”. (‘Compiler Ron Cope’ – this was probably caused by the sixteen inch shells sent into Narvik harbour by ‘Warspite’ in the 2nd Battle on 13th April). It was planned that the more seriously wounded men, including Ralph, were to be taken to the ‘Lofoton Islands’ to be picked up by HMS Penelope, a cruiser, instead of the destroyers. However, previously the Penelope had hit a rock and was then needed to be towed by ‘Eskimo’. When the two ships arrived, Penelope would not take them on board and after a few discussions it was decided the wounded men should go to a hospital ashore. This was the Gravdal Hospital (Gravdal Skyehus) on the island of Vestvagey in the Lofoton.

HMS Hardy-pre WW2

Ralph remained a patient there for six weeks. He recalls, “I was then cared for by a family. Later, some of the lads came along and suddenly told me to get ready for transport in a local fishing boat. I spent my 20th birthday cruising up the fjord”. He then arrived at ‘Tromso’ a few days later, just in time catch the last hospital ship ‘Atlantis’ leaving for Britain. He continues, “I arrived at Liverpool about the 9th June, but because of a relapse, I needed to be stretched ashore”. However, Ralph’s journey was not quite over having then to endure a train journey to a hospital near Glasgow.

Ralph at HMS St. Vincent

“Then two and half years of changing from hospital to hospital, including Winwick Hospital, near Warrington in Lancashire. I had another hiccup there. They used a bone from one leg to patch up the arm and when the plaster was taken off, sent me to a hospital near Bristol for recuperation. Unfortunately they left me alone on the station with a full kitbag. As I lifted the bag to put it on the rack in the train, I heard and felt a big crack. On arriving in the hospital they confirmed the arm had been broken again. So within 48 hours I was back at Warrington. They then took a bit of bone from the other leg and patched me up again”.

Kit muster at HMS St.Vincent.

By July 1940, Ralph had lost touch with his shipmate ‘Ginger’ Turner. So he decided to write to him. Sadly, Ralph received a reply from Ginger’s mother to say that a week before his own discharge from hospital he had gone sailing nearby with a nurse. The boat had overturned and he had drowned.

HMS Cygnet

Ralph was finally discharged from hospital in October 1942 and drafted back to Devonport barracks. He was very pleased to be drafted to a ship within a month. “I was sent to a new ‘Sloop’ HMS ‘Cygnet’ who had just been built at Birkenhead. We did our ‘acceptance trials’ in the Clyde and then sailed to Tobermoy for our final sea trials. Unfortunately, she ran aground on entering the harbour. I was then loaned to the ‘Black Swan’ for the North African ‘Landings’. After awhile I returned to ‘Cygnet’ in time for the Sicily ‘Landings’. From then I had a few months in the North Atlantic before going to HMS Mercury for the ‘Yeomans’ course. On completion, whilst waiting for transport to Canada to pick up a new ‘Algerine’ minesweeper I spent a spell on a Polish destroyer at ‘Slapton Sands’ in South Devon . This was in readiness for the ‘D Day’ Landings”.

HMS Black Swan

Ralph remained in the Royal Navy till 1950 leaving as a ‘Yeoman of Signals’. However, he still had problems with his back injury. On his release to ‘Civvy Street’ initially he was manager for a Radio and Electrical Shop in Brighton. He was later transferred by the firm to Crawley. During which time he completed a correspondence course in ‘electronics’. Once attaining qualifications he secured employment at Gatwick Airport as a ‘Radio and Radar Engineer’. In between times he married Betty in 1957.

Ralph and Betty

I am very gratefull to Les Smale B.E.M. for this fascinating account of his part in the battle of Narvik, where he survived the sinking of H.M.S.Hardy. His account is also quite unique, because he wrote it all down so soon after the event.

Les Smale BEM at Ganges

I will, while the events are still alive in my memory, attempt to give a description of events which brought me to take part in the Battle of Narvik.
The Hardy left Scapa Flow on the evening of April 2nd, together with the remainder of her division bound for the Shetlands. A little after we had left the boom defences, the air raid defences of Scapa opened up on the dozen or so raiders who were darting around in the almost dusk. A heavier barrage I have never seen. The sky literally had Black Measles. This was our first raid and quite naturally we were all anxious to have a crack at them, but with all our beckoning we couldn’t persuade them to come near enough to open fire. On the whole, I guess we were quite a bit disappointed, still, though we did not then know it, our chance was to come, and soon.

2nd Flottilla at Venice 1938

Though cold, it was quite calm when we arrived at Sullam Voe (Shetlands) the next morning and after oiling with the Hunter alongside us we went to anchor. It was now the 3rd. Of April and no one seemed to know exactly why we were there or for that matter, where we were going. However Captain (D) was not slow to take advantage of the lovely weather and the time to exercise General Drill to the utmost. Action Stations, Landing Parties, were exercised even to the extent of Hotspur flying a Swastika.

Les Smale

During the Friday evening of the 5th, four of the ‘I’ class destroyers arrived well loaded with mines, following which came all kinds of rumour as to where we were to escort these minelayers. Well, next morning at 0400 hours, we weighed anchor and put to sea and at about eight ‘o’ clock we rendezvoused with the Battle Cruiser H.M.S. Renown. Soon, we were all settled down in our allotted positions and took a course something East of North. The sea was very heavy and so was the rain and by the next morning one couldn’t help but feel the extra nip in the air. This being Sunday, we had, as usual, a little service on the messdeck, after which Lower Deck was cleared and the Captain, (Warburton- Lee) disclosed that during the afternoon we were crossing the Artic Circle, to which he dryly commented that this called for the same procedure as for ‘crossing the Line’ Our final destination, he said, was a little south of Narvik where we were to lay mines at dawn on Monday morning. Off Hoveden 67

H.M.S.Renown. Photo supplied by Paul Simpson

All through that day the sea was still quite high and it was not until during the night that it began to ease down, and only then because we were getting near land. Dawn of Monday the 8th broke with us at action stations and violating Norwegian neutrality. The mines were all laid within half an hour of the planned time, so despite the weather we had done our first real job well. All that remained for us to do now was to patrol the minefield and guide Norwegian fishermen around it and capture any German ships trying to pass down trough neutral waters which they had previously been doing.
The weather here in the Fiord, was beautiful, hardly a ripple on the water and everything surrounding us covered in a white blanket of snow. Well, here we stopped until just after noon when there came a message from the ‘Gloworm’ (Destroyer) that she was being attacked by two enemy ships and was returning their fire. Then all was quiet and nothing more was heard of her.
Meanwhile, word came for us to join ‘Renown’ and off we went at full speed. The German Fleet was at sea and Blenheims, Hudsons, and all sorts of our bombers were out looking for them in an effort to bomb them. Things were warming up and everyone, though they knew well what the consequences may be, was rather glad. Things were moving rapidly and it was not many hours before we learnt that the German Fleet was moving northwards. Just after 1700 that evening we met the ‘Renown’ who in the meantime had joined up with our minelaying friends of this morning. The sea was now extremely rough and so, for the night, we took up a formation of line ahead. ‘Renown’ leading with ‘Hunter’, ‘Havock’, ‘Hotspur’, and the minelayers following.

H.M.S.Gloworm. Photo supplied by Navy-Photos

At dawn the next day as was usual, we went to action stations. There were snowstorms about and it was still very cold. We must be further North than ever. We were going through the usual procedure when suddenly, without any signal , the ‘Renown’ altered course to Port. Quite naturally all our bridge staff turned their binoculars in that direction. They need not have done, for a snowstorm suddenly fell on us and blacked, or rather whited everything out. The ‘Renown’ then relieved our anxiety by signalling with their big light ‘Two Enemy’. I suppose nobody could express their feelings at that moment. Mine were, I think, a mixture of excitement and expectancy. Wondering if it really was the enemy and what it would be like to be under fire. We were soon to know for in a moment or two the ‘Renown’ opened fire with a broadside of 15inch guns at the leading ship of the two.

Scharnhorst

The snow had cleared and we could now see them away on the horizon. We, that is the ‘Hardy’ and ‘Hunter’, opened fire at extreme range on the second ship. There was a honest to good fight for perhaps a quarter of an hour and during that time we realised that the leading ship of the enemy was a cruiser of the ‘Hipper’ class and the other, engaged by just two tiny destroyers was none other than the ‘Scharnhorst’. There were splashes all round us but almost everybody was too busy with their own job to let that worry him. They got a straddle on us and while I was thinking that the next one would ‘see us off’, it never came. It appeared that they were concentrating on the ‘Renown’. There were several good straddles on her and we seemed to be left out of it. Then they, the enemy, turned, not towards us, but away from us, and the speed in such big sea’s as we pursued, was too much for the destroyers to maintain. Several times it seemed that we would break our back, so we had to ease down to about twelve knots. ‘Renown’ was still chasing them and as we went along we passed all kinds of wreckage from an obviously German rubber raft and pole attached, to a Marines’ cap. By now the enemy was out of sight and as ‘Renown’ went over the horizon she signalled us to return to our patrol on the mines. By this time we heard that the Germans had invaded Norway and at last we knew why their fleet had put to sea. On our way back we learned that we had suffered no casualties or damage, except that there was seven to eight inches of water in the foredeck mess deck, and everything movable, had moved, and practically all of it had broken.
During the lull on the way back we replenished the ready use ammunition lockers and ‘squared off’ the ship generally. The Captain and Gunnery officer were full of praise for the way the men behaved and the ship was full of talk of what, probably, was the most exciting moments of our lives. It was certainly my most exciting moment up till then.

H.M.S.Renown

Instead of returning to our patrol as ordered by ‘Renown’, we went, due I suppose, to signals from the Admiralty, further North towards Narvik with the Lofoten Islands on our Port and Norway to Starboard. Then came more coded messages from the Admiralty, and in consequence I was amongst those detailed from each ship for ‘Landing Party’. We all got rigged out and set about writing farewell letters in case we did not return. Not knowing how long we may be ashore, we all fairly well packed ourselves in with chocolate and cigarettes. The plan apparently was to bombard the harbour and shore batteries of Narvik and then land and take the place over. This idea was quashed however, when a couple of hours later we called at a pilot station some forty miles south of Narvik. Here we learnt that we were up against a superior force, and to put it in the words of the Pilot ‘ I wouldn’t go in with a force three times as big as yours’. Plans were changed and D2 ( Captain Warburton-Lee ) decided on a dawn attack. Plans were drawn up and method of attack signalled to all ships concerned.

H.M.S.Havock

That evening when we closed up for a final check over of instruments, the alarm bells rang and away we went after what looked like a destroyer. As we neared, it turned away but we soon overhauled it to find that it was a small fishing boat. That night…. it was now the 9th of April, we continued a patrol of the Fiord and at about midnight with everyone at action stations the five ships, the ‘Hostile’ had joined us during the evening , began to move towards Narvik. My particular Action Station was as a member of the Gun Directors crew with a duty to operate the Cross Level Unit. This unit, using the distant horizon as datum, measured the angle of ship movement at right angles to the line of fire and fed in an appropriate line correction. Since the close proximity of the fiord shoreline on either side made the unit inoperable I was ordered out of the Director to become a Bridge messenger and as such was in a ringside seat as it were to see all the action that was to come. The orders were to sink all ship targets, and needless to say everybody was ‘on their toes’ the whole of the time. It began to snow pretty heavily and we could see neither shore, and this made navigation that much more difficult. The ‘Asdic’ submarine detection gear was used to get echoes from either side of the fiord so that we were able to continue our progress up towards Narvik. It was bitterly cold, and where we were moving around in a vain effort to keep warm, we were forming circles of ice on the deck. Twice, rum and tea were brought around and did we need it. Generally a quiet atmosphere surrounded the ship as was only to be expected in such a tense situation. Once, in particular, when the Gunnery Officer, Lt. Clarke, passed around that we were about to pass a shore battery, everything was particularly quiet, with no one saying a word and only the wash of the ship to stir the apparent ‘peace’.

’Hardy’ at sea. Photo supplied by Ron Cope

Just about 0400, it was now the morning of the 10th April, in the vicinity of the harbour we made for what we thought was the entrance and only stopped just in time when we realized that it wasn’t. After a little scout around we eventually found it and as the plan had been to fire on the enemy from the entrance we were all very surprised when the ‘Hardy’ began to lead the division into the harbour itself. It seemed to be so cheeky and yet here we were doing it. There was already one ship run ashore on our Starboard side as we went in, but there were still plenty more good ones about for us to sink.
Merchant ships were ‘small fry’ at the moment. We were looking for destroyers and a submarine. All our guns had been unfrozen with hot oil on the way up and were loaded ready for anything. Everything seemed to be still very quiet and peaceful, but that was all changed a few minutes later when we suddenly sighted a destroyer’s bows showing from behind a whaling factory ship. Torpedoes were fired and I guess at least a couple of them found their mark for there was a terrific explosion together with a vivid semi circular white flash of stars twinkling around the edge. If one could forget what that explosion contained it could be described as extremely beautiful, but when one thinks of sleeping men being killed outright, then it is different, perhaps that’s not the case with a German even if they are the enemy. Simultaneously with the explosion we gathered speed and opened fire with the guns. Turning to go out of the harbour, two more destroyer’s were sighted to Starboard and engaged, but being probably still asleep, they didn’t at this moment return our fire.

Captain Warburton-Lee V.C.

By now the ‘Hardy’ was out of the harbour with the remainder of the division following around in their turn. A second attack was planned and when some ten minutes later we re-entered the harbour they were ready for us. I should say, some of them were, for some were firing High angle shells and others Low angle shells. The Germans didn’t seem to know if they were under surface, or air attack. It was a crazy sight which greeted us this time around, with stems, sterns, funnels and masts sticking up all over the harbour marking the graveyard of the ships sunk in the first attack. But for the grimness of the situation, it was almost an amusing sight. There was more gunfire from what appeared to be shore batteries, and they were firing ammunition fitted with tracer so that you could see it coming towards you. Sometimes it exploded in flight, while at others it went off on contact with the water. Glancing over the ship’s side I noticed that there were explosions erupting from the water at various places around the ship which threw up black clouds of smoke. I thought they might be controlled mines but I don’t know for sure. We came out of the harbour again without casualties but with a well earned scar, a two inch hole in the foremost funnel.

A much more peacefull scene nowadays.

We were all quite happy and very pleased with our work but when the Captain ordered yet another attack we were not quite so keen. It was getting very ‘hot’ in the harbour and they were ready for us this time. But if the Captain went, we went. For the third time we entered the harbour and they were more than ready, for we were greeted well and truly with very heavy gunfire and what seemed to be dozens of ‘tinfish’ (torpedoes). After seeing the effect of our own torpedoes, I know there was no one anxious to see the effect of one of theirs on us. Each time one came for us, full speed ahead was ordered and we turned toward it to present as small a target as possible. On one occasion we had just evaded one, only to run into the path of another and I honestly believe that my heart stopped beating as I held my breath, together with everybody else, as we waited for the explosion to occur. But it never came, despite the fact that it passed right under us and the general belief that German torpedoes were all fitted with magnetic heads. If he does, then we owe our lives to our D.C. gear, a device which neutralises the magnetic field inherent in a ship.
With that thrill over, two of our foes burning and the shore batteries silenced, we turned from the harbour for the last time. The wreckage in the harbour would have to be seen to be believed, so I can make no attempt to describe it adequately, other than to say that it was immense.

Les with two shipmates on Hardy. One was AB Andrew Whearty who was killed in the TS mentioned in Cyril Copes Account

As we passed the harbour entrance with our guns facing aft and firing a few farewell shots we all felt to a certain extent relieved, but when all of a sudden, ‘Alarm bearing Red 5 degrees’ was ordered we were all taken by surprise. There was no need to look, for we knew in a moment that we had met the enemy once more and to his advantage. He must have been waiting for us, for in an instant shells were crashing into us. I found myself at the bottom of the ladder behind the wheelhouse and was thrown flat on the deck by a shell which blew off the steel door on the Port side. Fragments of this door or shell injured the two signalmen who were there with me. I put them into the Navigator’s cabin and dived into the Captain’s cabin on the Starboard side myself. Another salvo crashed in and something hit my head but I wasn’t hurt. Self preservation, I guess, took me to the Port side, but just as I got there the telegraphs man came out of the wheelhouse shouting that the Cox’n was dead. I, for no reason I can explain, went into the wheelhouse and took over the wheel from Lt. Stanning, the Paymaster, who said he was going back to the bridge. The wheelhouse was a shambles. It was not till I was actually on the job that I realized the danger I was in, but I consoled myself by thinking that ‘if this was my day, then it was my day’. I felt better. I couldn’t make contact with the Bridge and my repeated calls through the voice-pipe of ‘Wheelhouse.. Bridge’ were unanswered. I was left to my own initiative as to what I should do. Looking through the gaping shell holes in the wheelhouse side, I could see for the first time the German ships. There were five of them, two now ahead and three to Starboard.

Les Smale and a Shipmate. Photo supplied by Les Smale B.E.M

We were close to the shore, so I steered a course that kept us as close as I dared and hoped we wouldn’t go aground. In a little while contact was made with Lt. Stanning on the Bridge and he ordered ‘Hard a Starboard’, we’re going to ram. I felt fit for anything now, but almost immediately it was cancelled by ‘Hard a Port’ we’re going ashore. I put the helm over to Port. Just as we were about to ground the Midshipman came into the wheelhouse shouting ‘your going aground, your going aground and rang the engine telegraphs to full astern. It had no effect as the engines had lost steam due to a hit in the boilers, and it was because of this loss of power that Lt. Stanning had changed from ramming the enemy ships, to taking the ‘Hardy’ ashore. I didn’t feel the ship ground and I think I stood there at the wheel in a dazed condition for two or three minutes until someone came by shouting ‘Abandon Ship’. I walked, they were not firing at us now, out onto the point five, machine gun deck, and helped the two previously mentioned injured signalmen into the seaboat. The whaler was full to overflowing with no one at the falls to lower it. Someone did come along to perform this duty and took a turn for lowering as for a normal boats crew of seven, whereupon the boat went down with a terrific rush and capsized. A Carley Float was in the water, by now full of survivors, and I remember shouts of ‘anyone got a knife. None was forth- coming, it was needed to cut the paddles free. Some men were beginning to reach the beach and I noticed that the swimming distance was not all that far and that one could wade half the journey.

This photo of Hardy aground, was taken by a German sailor. Photo supplied by Bill Sanders.

Being a fair swimmer I decided I could stay and help where I could, so I took off my duffle coat and oilskins and went to the bridge to give a hand as necessary. The Bridge was in a terrible state with the following casualties. The Captain seriously wounded in the head, arm, and unconscious. The Signal Officer and Gunnery officer dead, the Navigator suffering from concussion, and the Paymaster with a foot injury. I, with the Middy released the Telegraphist from his remote control post, the door of which was jammed shut. We then assisted the Doctor to bandage the Captain and then put him into a Neil Robinson stretcher ( a sort of wrap around affair to prevent the patient falling out) and lowered him to the Foc’sle deck. We got the Navigator clear of the Bridge and destroyed what books we thought might be of use to the enemy before finally leaving the Bridge ourselves. Meanwhile, No 4 gun had been getting up more ammunition and was again firing at the enemy. As I reached the Foc’sle deck and had just taken up my coat to retrieve my valuables from the pockets, the Germans opened fire on us again and registered a direct hit on No. 2 gun which was already out of action. I dropped flat and felt splinters of metal hitting my tin hat, which undoubtedly saved me from injury.

Bill Sanders Brother in law looking down at Hardy 1955. Photo supplied by Bill Sanders

The Doctor was injured in this, and the Chief Stoker mortally wounded. Having retrieved my valuables we put the Captain in his stretcher over the side and into the water. Our only access to the water at this point was via the whaler’s falls which still hung vertically from the davit head. Shinning down, I paused on the lower block to take of my fur lined flying boots before entering the water. I didn’t get them off as the First Lieut. Came down the fall on top of me and I found myself in the water. One of the signalmen who had been injured behind the wheelhouse was still in the water and asked me to help him. I saw him ashore alright and then began to realize the cold was colder than I had ever experienced before. By now No.4 gun had finished firing but the Germans were still firing at us and bits and pieces came flying over making us continually have to duck under the water in order to dodge the danger. The First Lieutenant was now calling for help with the Chief Stoker, so I went to give him a hand ashore. I then went back to assist the Gunner (Mr. McCracken) to bring the Captain to the beach, where almost immediately he died. I daresay he would have been happier had he known anything about it, if we had left him on board.

School at Ballengen where the sailors were housed. Photo supplied by Bill Sanders

My first wish now was to get the circulation going again, so I stamped my way up through the snow to the nearest house, as had so many others of our crew. Looking back, as I left the beach, I saw a ship upturned showing keel ,rudder and propellers and felt that it must be one of the German destroyers that we had sunk. Unfortunately it turned out to be the ‘Hunter’ though I didn’t know it at the time. Our own ship was on fire forward, and rounds of ammunition of different calibres were exploding all the time. I eventually reached the wooden house and there were two women there, a Mrs. Christianson and her daughter, doing all they could to make the survivors comfortable. The house was full of steam from thawing bodies. Personally I was so cold and so exhausted that I could not take my soaking clothes off, though I knew I had to. A Yeoman of Signals helped me out of them eventually, and I wrapped myself in a black silk dress which I found on the floor. I was glad now that I had been unable to discard my boots at the bottom of the whalers fall when leaving the ship, for unlike most of the others I still had something to wear on my feet. Many made improvised shoes by cutting their rubber lifebelts and putting their feet in the sealed ends. The most comical of all I think, was our Canteen manager who wrapped his legs around with newspaper. Then there was one who cut a hole in a carpet, put his head through it and tied the two draping ends around his body with a piece of string. While I was still getting warm our Torpedo officer called for volunteers to go back to the ship to get a man seen walking on the Quarter deck. They went, four of them, in a Carley float and brought back the Navigator, for it was him, still in a concussed state. These four men were awarded the D.S.M. and well deserved in view of the danger from exploding ammunition from the fire still on board.

Most recent photo of Petra Kristianson’s home. Photo supplied by Bill Sanders.

At about 1300 hours we made a move down the road away from Narvik and we were treated with many kindnesses by the Norwegians, in the way of food and clothing and other comforts. Eventually at about 7pm. We reached a village called Ballangen were they opened a big centrally heated school for us and gave us tea, rye bread and some sausages to eat. It didn’t take us long to get off to sleep that night but it took a bit more effort to get us up the next morning. All that day the people were bringing up bedding, clothes and food. They treated us well and the only way we could help them, by way of repayment, was to give a hand at clearing away snow, which we all willingly did.
During the day we visited the wounded in the hospital and they were as glad to see us as we were to see them. We could all now find time enough to spare a moment or two for those, some of whom were very close friends, who were not lucky enough to share our good fortune in surviving the battle of yesterday.

H.M.S.Ivanhoe.

We stayed in Ballanger until the day of the second Battle of Narvik. This was on Saturday April 13th. This battle we were able to see from the attic of the school and it was a grand sight to see the ‘Tribal’ class destroyers driving’ Jerry’ step by step back up the Fiord, with ‘ Warspite’ bringing up the rear and sending salvo after salvo up the fiord which must have had a great de-moralising effect on the German destroyer crews. The Torpedo officer, Lt. Heppel, put out in a local boat to try and contact one of our ships, and on the way back picked up a deserted German motor launch. This he took over to continue his mission. In the meantime the British ships continued to move up the fiord out of our vision, but we could hear the noise of battle as gunfire echoed and re-echoed through the fiords. Lt. Heppel, made contact with the ‘Ivanhoe’ which very shortly came into Ballangan pier and took us off, and at the same time landed an armed guard to look after our wounded in the hospital.

H.M.S.Warspite

The next morning we were transferred to different ships and I went on board the ‘Hero’ which was soon on the move down the fiord to the open sea. Orders were then received to join ‘Warspite’ in patrolling an area which we thought to be in the vicinity of the entrance to the fiord. We remained in this area with ‘Warspite’ until Thursday. Nothing by way of excitement happened during this time, but on Thursday we were told to sail for Rosyth which pleased us no end. On the next evening, Friday, we heard on the news that the survivors of the ‘Hardy’ were arriving in London ‘at any minute now’…. but obviously not our little group, here we were still out in the middle of the North Sea somewhere. Just twenty minutes after this announcement the ‘Hero’ turned about and once more made a heading for the Narvik area where we arrived on Sunday 21st April in the afternoon. I can’t express how we felt, but anyone who reads this may well imagine. Hardly had we dropped anchor than along came three German planes and dropped bombs. Fifteen minutes later, back they came to drop more, and shortly after this was followed by yet another attack. No damage was suffered in any of the raids.

First attachment of sailors R.N. and merchant arriving in Greenock on Franconia,Survivors of HMS Hardy after the 2nd Battle of Narvik, plus British Merchant Seamen, rescued by HMS Ivanhoe. Photo supplied by Leo Styles.

That same night we, the ‘Hardy’ survivors were transferred to the troopship ‘Franconia’ who also re-embarked six hundred troops whom, it seemed she had transported to Norway earlier. We sailed again for Home at 0800 hours on Tuesday 23rd of April. We had one escort for a little way and then were left to proceed on our own. All went well until 0200 hours on Friday morning, when we were all awakened by a terrific explosion. I was out and had my lifebelt on in no time, and then there was another explosion. I just stood there in the cabin, and well, I was quite surprised that the ship didn’t heel over, or feel as though she was sinking. We made our way up towards the upper decks, but were stopped by the Master at Arms, who was saying that we had been met by an escort during the night and they were dropping depth charges. The explanation sounded feasible so we made our way back down to our bunks and sleep again. The next morning the Captain passed a message to us all saying that during the night we had been attacked by torpedo’s from a submarine and that they had exploded either in the ships wake or at the end of their run. The next morning, Saturday 27thApril, we arrived safely in Greenock and were soon on our way to Plymouth. The Barrack staff re-kitted, paid and generally processed us so that I was home on leave by 8pm on Sunday 28th of April, much to the relief of my family, who were really without word of our well being since the events of 10th April and the First Battle of Narvik.

Les Smale at his presentation,just on his right is his girlfriend Barbara, who he later married. Photo supplied by Les Smale B.E.M

The people of the home village of Stoke Canon (four miles from Exeter) gave me a great welcombe home and presented me with a gold watch engraved as follows. ‘Presented to Leslie J. Smale as an appreciation of services rendered on H.M.S. Hardy at Narvik April 10th. 1940 by friends at Stoke Canon’. In addition to this, they used the balance of the village collection to buy five War Savings Certificates in my name.

I am very grateful to Leo Styles for sending me this great story about Austin McNamara and his pair of sea boot stockings. Although it is a light hearted story, to me it just emphasises the quiet bravery of men like Austin. The politicians are always saying how we will never forget those who suffer on our behalf. Unfortunately most of us have. Maybe this, and other stories here, will do a little to redress that.

HMS Hardy

Leo writes This is the story that my 12 year old son Patrick gave as part of a school class presentation in his first year of secondary education. The human interest story obviously is related to Austin McNamara of Bolton, and coincidentally my son delivered the presentation on 1 March 2004, the 60th anniversary of Austin’s untimely death during the war in 1944.

Two views of Austin Mcnamara at Horse Guards Parade. Look for the arrow.

Two views of Austin Mcnamara at Horse Guards Parade. Look for the arrow.

I’d like to share with you an artefact that has historical significance to my family. This is a pair of sea boot stockings. They belonged to my great uncle, Austin McNamara, who was my grandmother’s brother. He received them from some Norwegian fishermen who rescued him from his naval ship, the HMS Hardy when it was sunk while in action against German destroyers at Narvik on the coast of Norway, on the 10th April, 1940. They would have been cold and wet from being in the water so the fishermen gave them some of their clothing. When he returned to England he was issued with a new naval uniform but he kept the sea boot stockings, a hat, a scarf and gloves. The survivors were inspected and addressed by Winston Churchill on the 19th April1940. In these photos, Austin is still wearing the fisherman’s clothing.

The legenary stockings. Photo P.Styles.

Almost 4 years later Austin was on the HMS Gould which was torpedoed and sunk by a German submarine in an area between Ireland and the Azores (west of Portugal). Half an hour later, this German submarine was in turn sunk by other British ships with only one German survivor! The Ministry of Defence’s Naval historical Branch’s records show that the cause of death of Able Seaman Austin McNamara was “Missing – Death on War Service Presumed”, the assumption being that he lost his life as a result of the action that day, 1st of March 1944. He was 23 years of age.

H.M.S. Gould. Photo Navy-photos

When my grandmother married my grandfather, they came out from England to live in Australia. My grandmother brought Austin’s scarf, gloves, cap and the sea boot stockings with her. My grandfather used to ride a motorbike to work so he used the scarf and gloves until they wore out. My grandmother can’t remember what happened to his cap. A few years ago, she asked if we would like to keep the sea boot stockings. My artefact has some historical value due to its age, more than 64 years old and due to its link with the Second World War. It is obviously of great sentimental value to our family. As far as monetary value goes, they would cost about 50 dollars to make today but this does not take into account any value given for their historical worth.

Plymouths War Memorial.

Austin, together with his shipmates, is remembered with honour at the Plymouth Naval Memorial in England.

Austin McNamara. Rest in peace.

I am extremely grateful to John Avery for this story about his Dad. It’s these little forgotten details that round out the whole event. My father Frederick Gordon Avery was a leading stoker on HMS HARDY. Paymaster Stanning ordered my father to sabotage documents in the ship’s safe so they would not fall into enemy hands. My father brought up a bucket of oily bilge water and having topped up the safe with oily rags poured the bucket of water over the contents and threw the key overboard. He took care of AB Francis John [Jack] Good who had lost an eye and three fingers in the action and was a non swimmer. They were given shelter and clothing in front of a big log fire in a barn. Jack was evacuated with the first batch but my father and some shipmates were taken overland away from the village as the local’s feared reprisals if the Germans searched local properties. My father and Jack survived and both men met up and remained firm friends and the family bonds endure to this day.

Frederick Gordon Avery

I research genealogy and on a visit to the National Archives at Kew, I found a file on the recovery of the safe from HMS HARDY. Some locals went on board before she finally sank and with great effort managed to get the safe ashore. One of the locals buried it in his land and at the end of the war, disclosed his secret to a visiting RN warship. In 1947 a submarine was despatched to bring the safe back to Chatham. A long wrangle ensued. The Norwegian was looking for a reward, arguing that he would probably have been shot by the enemy, and the Admiralty arguing that it was British government property that had been illegally removed from the ship. In typical civil service fashion the file got bigger as both sides argued their case.

Paymaster Stanning. Photo Rosemary Barnes

Eventually the safe was brought back to Chatham in the submarine and two locksmiths were engaged to gain entry. To my amusement the report read that there was a most obnoxious smell and thick oil stains made all the contents unreadable. My father died in 1974 and it was after that time that I made the discovery at Kew but I am sure that he would have enjoyed the ending to the story of the safe.

I am very grateful to Kate Kennedy for the photo’s and stories of her father Robert Mc Atamney. Robert Samuel Mc Atamney was one of six boys from the same family in Carickfergus, Northern Ireland, who fought in the war. They became known as the fighting Mc Atamney’s as they represented the Army, Navy and Airforce. Although three of them were wounded, all came home safe after the war.

Robert Samuel Mc Atamney.

Robert, known as ‘Bobby’ was an Able Seaman on H.M.S. Hardy at the time of the Battle of Narvik. He was only twenty years old at the time, and when the Hardy was sinking he managed to rescue ‘Tubby’ Cox. He saw him floating in the water and dragged him to safety. They had a laugh about it afterwards, as Bobby said that Tubby only floated because of his size. Bobby had a lucky escape when he was hit by shrapnel. It took his top lip off but, it could just as easily been his head.

’Bobby’ with friends.

After the ship had blown up and he and the rest of the survivors were led to safety, he was given a ski suit, and that’s what he wore to come home. Kate’s uncle Davy remembers playing in it when he was seven years old.

Bobby served on the Aircraft Carrier H.M.S. Implacable seen here in Vancover and Tricomalee for VJ day

Bobby served on the Aircraft Carrier H.M.S. Implacable seen here in Vancover and Tricomalee for VJ day

The Mc Atamney’s were a well liked family in Carickfergus, and when news of the Battle of Narvik became known, everybody was worried for Bobby and kept asking his parents for any news. When he finally came home, the town was decorated with flags and bunting and all the town’s people lined the streets to welcome him home. At a ceremony at the Town Hall he was presented with a watch and a ring. When asked how he felt, he said” that he would look back on this day with pride”.

Robert Mc Atamney with his Mother at the Town Hall.

Bobby Mc Atamney stayed in the Navy until 1960, and rose to the rank of Petty Officer. Although he loved the live, he had got married in 1958 and he found the long separations a bit too much to bear so he left the Navy and went to work at Courtaulds. It was at the factory in 1974 that he suffered a heart attack and died. He was only fifty four years of age. He left a son and daughter, and was sadly missed by many in the town as he was so well liked.

I am very grateful to Ron Cope for providing me with his Father’s story and all the wonderful pictures of Cyril Cope and the Norwegian people that helped him and the rest of the Hardy Survivors. This story, typed up by Ron Cope from his father’s recollections, remain his property, and should not be reproduced without his permission. I am also grateful to Rosemary Barnes for the photo of her father, Paymaster Lt. Stanning. Cyril Cope’s Story My name is Cyril Cope, and this is the story of my experiences in the battles of Narvik on the 10th and 13th April 1940. One evening in the first week of April 1940, my ship H.M.S. Hardy, in company with Hotspur, Hunter, and Havelock, left the Shetland Isles to escort some ‘E class’ destroyers which had been converted to minelayers. Our Captain informed us that we were on our way to the Norwegian coast, where the mines would be laid, and we would patrol for 24 hours to warn neutral shipping of the newly laid minefield. On arrival at our destination, a stretch of sea between the Norwegian coast and some small islands near the entrance of the Fjord which led to the iron ore port of Narvik, the mines were laid and we started our patrol.

Cyril Cope.Photo Ron Cope

That evening of the 8th April, we received a signal from a destroyer further to the south. She was H.M.S. Gloworm, and she was being attacked by the German heavy cruiser the Admiral Hipper. We set off for the position she had given, but due to rough seas and a very fierce snowstorm we couldn’t travel at full speed, and when we got there, there was no sign of either the Hipper or the Gloworm. We searched for survivors but only found debris, so we turned back towards Vestijord and were fortunate to meet up with the battle cruiser H.M.S. Renown. With her leading our flotilla and the minelayers, we stated to search for enemy ships, especially the Hipper. All hands had been at action stations from the moment we had set off to find the Gloworm, but had now reverted to normal watch keeping.

Cyril Cope on his wedding day.Photo Ron Cope.

I had the middle watch (midnight to 0400), and my station was the forward torpedo tubes. It was a very cold position, even with all the extra clothing we had put on. At 0345 hours, our thoughts of warm hammocks were rudely disturbed by the sound of shells passing over head and falling into the sea on our portside. The action station alarm bells caused confusion to the waking sailors, who thought it was our usual stand to exercise. Here I must explain that in ships during wartime all hands would go to action stations at dusk and dawn to be ready for a sudden attack by the enemy. Since dawn was 0345 hours in this part of the world, you can see why everyone was confused. By this time, I and my companions on the torpedo tubes were moving out to starboard, where we could see two ships well down on the horizon.

The Gloworm being sunk by the Admiral Hipper, who’s bows are in the foreground.

We saw the flashes from their guns and almost immediately heard the fifteen inch guns of H.M.S. Renown fire in salvoes at the enemy ships. We saw some hits and wondered how soon it would be before the Admiral in Renown gave our Captain the order to make a torpedo attack. The Germans were heading on a parallel course to us, which was to the south. The sea was very rough and it was still snowing very hard. Although I had received an order on my headphones from the bridge to cut down the guard rails ready for firing the torpedoes, we could not make an attack because of the rough seas which had reduced our speed. The Admiral, realising we could not keep up with him or the enemy ships because of the bad weather, gave our Captain the order to give up the chase and return to the entrance of Vestifjord to watch for any enemy ships approaching the fjord with the intention of going up to Narvik. We complied with the order, but our Captain told the minelayers to return to the UK, leaving just our four ships to start the search.

Punjabi and Eskimo charging up the fjord.

On arrival at Vestfjord we were soon joined by H.M.S. Hostile, one of our flotilla. Her arrival coincided with a visit to the pilot station by Lt. Hepple and Paymaster Lt. Stanning (Hardy’s officers) to enquire if any German ships had passed up the fjord. They were told that at least six destroyers and one U- boat had gone up the night before. When they returned with this news, the Captain decided to enter the fjord at noon, get to Narvik as quickly as possible, attack the enemy ships, land a raiding party and capture the town. He thought surprise would win the day, but what he didn’t know was that ten German ships much larger than our own, and three thousand Alpine troops were already in and around Narvik. He was soon to find this out when he sent officers to the pilot station to ask if one of them would navigate them up the fjord. They said ‘no not at any price. Tell your Captain to go away and come back with more and much larger ships. The German destroyers are bigger than yours and have larger guns’.

Alpine troops embark on the Hipper en route to Trondheim.

Whilst this was going on, arrangements were being made for the twenty five men under the command of an officer from each ship to land. We were dressed in blue suits, webbing belt and gaiters, and had a pack on our backs with rations for three days. Bully beef, bread, ships biscuits, and any chocolates or sweets we could scrounge from the galley. We also had a blanket in our packs, and before the dash up the fjord commenced, we were given a mug of neat rum. We mustered at the galley for this and my mess mate Tony Hart drank his, and I drank mine. We were just in time, because the officer of the watch came into the galley and ordered the cook to stop serving rum, because the attack had been called off until midnight because of the information given by the pilots. We then headed off to sea and out of sight of land so that anybody watching would thing we had departed for good.

The Hans Ludeman landing troops in Narvik.

At 2300 hours we made our way to the entrance of Vestfjord, entering at near midnight. It was very cold, snowing hard, and we were closed up at action stations with only the engines running. All of the other machinery had been stopped. We could not move about to keep warm, and were only allowed to speak in whispers. The only light visible was a blue one on the after mast to guide the following ships. We in Hardy had no light to follow, but relied solely on our navigating officer, Lt. Commander Smith to guide us and the rest of our four ships up the fjord to Narvik harbour. This was a feat hard enough in daylight, but in darkness it seemed impossible. However, despite some near misses with the cliffs on the port side of the fjord, which we had to keep close to in order to avoid U-boat 51, which was submerged at the entrance to the fjord, but on the starboard side. Apparently, this U-boat had reported seeing us head out to sea earlier in the day and the Captain had made a signal to Kommodore Bonte (senior officer, German destroyers) on the Wilhelm Heidkamp. So Bonte did not expect the attack which was about to take place, because the U-boat was unaware that we had re-entered the fjord. Luck was with us.

Kommodore Bonte.

At 0345 hours we arrived at the entrance to Narvik harbour. It was still snowing and dawn was about to break. The German sailors, except for the sentries on watch would be asleep. Our Captain detailed two destroyers to check another fjord close by. The other two stayed outside of the harbour on guard as we went in alone. On our portside was a large British iron ore ship the Blythmoor which had been captured by the enemy the previous night. Two German sailors were on guard on the upper deck, but when guns were pointed at them, they scampered down a hatch without giving any alarm. We were laid almost alongside the ship with only a few feet between us. Our engines were just turning over slowly, and away on our starboard side, not very far away, I could see through the swirling snow and mist several ships, mostly transports or iron ore ships. But there were also five German destroyers, two of which were tied up to an oil tanker, which we later found out was the Jan Wellem. The pipes were still in position to provide the oil and except for the two sentries, the Germans had no idea that we were in the harbour. They soon found out because the order to fire torpedoes came down from the bridge. Because our tubes were already trained on the starboard side, the four torpedoes from them, were the first shots fired in the First Battle of Narvik.

Devastation caused by British destroyers in Narvik harbour.

The first one hit and sank the Wilhelm Heidkamp. Kommodore Bonte, the senior officer in command of all the German destroyers was asleep in his sea cabin, and he and most of the ships company were killed or wounded. The second and third torpedoes hit the Anton Schmitt in the magazine. When this ship blew up, the explosion severely damaged the destroyer Herman Kunne, and the fourth torpedo hit a large transport. We then trained our tubes fore and aft and went to the assistance of the after tubes crew who were having difficulties training their tubes to starboard. Here I will explain. When a destroyer is in an area where it is likely to meet the enemy, one set of torpedo tubes are trained to port and one set to starboard, because which side the attack may take place is unknown, and getting the tubes to bear as quickly as possible is essential if you want to get the first shot in. On this occasion my tubes were ready on the correct side, the after set were not, and it was very hard to rectify this because of the ice packed around the traversing gear.We had almost reached the position where a large steel bolt would engage in a hole in the iron deck to lock the tubes into position, when the officer on the bridge electrically fired the first torpedo. The tubes swung violently, but luckily for us, in the direction of the locking position. Numbers two and three torpedoes fired, one of them hitting the iron ore jetty, but the delay in getting into position prevented number four from being fired.

HMS Hardy

By this time the Captain had ordered full steam ahead and we turned to starboard, towards the entrance of the harbour, and on our way out he signalled the other ships to go in and attack with torpedoes only. This they did, except for Hostile, who for some unknown reason did not fire any. The four ships followed us down the fjord, but not very far, because on my headphones I heard the Captain say “we have done a good job, but we must go back and do some more”. We turned back on our course into the harbour moving very fast, and we began firing all our guns, doing much damage to destroyers and enemy transports, as well as the iron ore ships taken over by the Germans. We did not stop, but made our way out of the harbour with the other ships following us after they had fired their guns. Down the fjord we sped to what we thought would be the open sea and maybe home. It was not to be. Once again I heard the Captain say “we did a lot more damage, but now we must go back, and this time we will be staying. All men selected for the landing party get ready”. Here I must explain what had happened during our previous attacks. In the first one, because we had not fired our guns, the Germans had thought it was an air attack. So when we went in for the second time they were firing anti aircraft guns into the sky. We could see the puffs, like cotton wool as they exploded in the sky. In both attacks we were not fired on, so there was no damage to any of our ships.

H.M.S.Renown

However on our third approach to the harbour they did fire at us. Guns and torpedoes were fired, but because the firing pistols on their torpedoes were not designed for use in high latitudes, they passed under us without exploding. We could not get into the harbour as there was fire and oil on the water. Ships were on fire and some were sinking. We all fired our shells through the entrance at the enemy, and then we turned to get on our way down the fjord. As we cleared the entrance we could see three enemy destroyers bearing down on us from Herjangsfjord. They were firing at us from our starboard quarter, and we could only bring our after gun to bear in reply as we sped down the fjord with them in pursuit. The ships were Wolfgang Zenker, Erich Giese and the Erich Koellner. They had been unloading their complement of Alpine troops and equipment, and were anchored for the night prior to going into harbour to fill up with oil. A signal had been sent to them about our attack. They had got steam up and weighed anchor just in time to meet us leaving the harbour mouth. Our Captain had ordered a speed of thirty knots, which would have taken us well clear of these ships and out to sea. It was still very misty and snow was falling, but through this heavy mist two large ships were sighted passing across our bow. The Captain and others on the bridge thought they might have been two of our small cruisers coming to assist us, so he sent a signal “are you the Penelope and the Cleopatra”. They did not reply, but started to fire full salvoes at us. Hardy being the leader came in for a lot of heavy punishment.

H.M.S. Hunter

We turned to port, and at this point the fjord opened out to what looked like a lake, which gave us a bit of room for manoeuvring. A full salvo hit our bridge killing or severely wounding all the personnel. A shell hit the wheel house, and the chief Coxswain, who was on the wheel was killed, which meant that the ship was momentarily out of control. His body was holding the wheel hard over to port, so we circled. The other ships followed in our wake partly covered by a smoke screen from our funnels. Lt. Stanning who had been wounded in the foot, managed to get down from the bridge to the wheel house and was able to take over the wheel. He then told a young Able Seaman to take over, and at that moment a salvo hit the starboard side below the wheel house.

Lt. Stanning. Photo Rosemary Barnes, his daughter.

One shell went through the canteen, and then into the TS (transmitting station) where the guns were controlled. On its way it hit my mate Bill Pimlett who was standing by the door leading into the TS , and then chopped off the legs of two of the TS operators, Able Seaman Werty and Leading Seaman Cocain. They were sitting on high stools at the console which contained the instruments. The two operators opposite were not wounded when the shell exploded. They each picked up a wounded mate and carried them on to the iron deck to sit them on their stumps against the forward funnel. There was nothing they could do for Bill Pimlett, because there was not much left of him.

The Georg Thiele, which can still be seen today.

Shells also hit our two forward guns, killing or wounding some of the guns crew. But the one that took the worst of the shelling was ‘C’ gun between the two funnels. It was completely wrecked and all the guns grew were killed. One shell of the salvo hit the main steam pipe in the boiler room. This cut off the steam to the engines and as the ship lost speed Lt. Stanning gave the order to steer towards the shore. This was approved by Lt. Hepple who had by then reached the bridge after checking that the after steering position was operational, when he had feared that the main steering was not functioning. This was when the Coxswain was killed and there was nobody on the wheel. The ship drifted to shore until it grounded.

The Georg Thiele, her stern is in over 200ft of water.

The Germans were still firing at us. I had been in my action station on the tubes from midnight throughout the action in the harbour and the fjord, and up to ten minutes before the ship grounded. After all our torpedoes had fired, I had two other jobs to perform at action stations. Firstly I had to stay near the tubes with my headphones on, and if I had received an order from the bridge to make smoke, I would have to run onto the foc’sle or the quarterdeck to ignite a smoke float which emitted thick white sickly tasting smoke. This would then give ourselves and other ships, a screen behind which we or they could hide from the enemy. I was therefore in a good position to watch all the action taking place. The high speed manoeuvring of all the ships, the gun flashes and the torpedoes being fired at us by the enemy. I saw Hunter and Hotspur hit, and I knew we were being hit forward, but nothing would come inboard from the after funnel to the stern.

H.M.S.Hotspur.

My mate Bill Pimlett, was with me to share the job of making smoke. We were making black smoke from both funnels, so the order that we were expecting did not come. Bill said “ I’m going for’d to make a cup of tea and I’ll bring you one”. I said “ with all that stuff coming inboard for’d you had better be careful – crawl on your belly along the iron deck until you reach the canteen flat”. He did so, but as he stood outside the canteen and TS, he was hit by the shell which went through his back and out of his stomach. I only learnt of this from one of the survivors of the TS, when we eventually reached the house, into which we all crowded after swimming ashore.

H.M.S.Eskimo

When Bill left me, I tried to get a response from the bridge. When I heard nothing (there was nobody alive up there to hear me) I decided to go to my next action station in the engine room. Here I had my bag of tools, and my job was to standby in case there was any electrical damage. I was with the Engineer Commander and the Warrant Engineer for five minutes when the engines packed up. We all looked at each other and the Commander said “this is it, we have had it.” He told me to go to the upper deck and find out what was happening. The ship was gliding towards the shore. I went up the ladder, and as I opened the hatch, the First Lieutenant was bending down to open it. I noticed that he had smoke coming from his pistol and I thought, good God he’s gone off his head and shot somebody. I was about to drop back down the ladder when he said, “Cope, tell the Engineer Commander its everyman for himself, abandon ship”. I went down the ladder fast, gave the message, and led the way back up the ladder with the officers and the engine staff following.

The grave of Capt. Bernard A.W. Warburton-Lee.VC.

The Germans were still firing, but only one of our guns was replying. Their crew would just not give in. Our Chief Stoker, Styles, was helping to launch a small boat in which to take the Captain ashore. It was the only serviceable boat, we called it a skimming dish. A shell hit the boat and exploded, wounding the men trying to launch it. The Chief Stoker was severely wounded, but he and the Captain, as well as our other wounded men were towed ashore on the stretchers or life rafts. When I reached the upper deck I went to my abandon ship station which was a raft near the search light platform. Some of the men who should have been on that raft had been killed. I and four others lifted it up, and after cutting it free, we took it to the ships side and dropped it into the water. Unfortunately the man who was supposed to tie the rope that attached the raft to the stanchion had not done so, instead, he had thrown it into the raft, which then floated away into the fjord. By this time my Petty Officer, West, had joined me at the guardrails. He said “it looks like we will have to swim for it Cope“. I climbed over ready to drop into the water. I’d taken off my cap, overcoat, gloves, scarf and even my back pack which I had kept with my shoes ready for the landing. I looked for’d in time to see a whaler being lowered. It looked in good condition, the only boat to be so at this stage, or so we thought.

The Wilhelm Heidkamp.

Unfortunately the men at one end were stokers, and as the boat started to move they let it go and the bows hit the water very hard. The Cox’n of the whaler and a couple of wounded men were in it and I thought they would surely be killed, or at least tossed into the water. However they were ok and as the boat moved away from the ships side I dropped into the water after saying to the PO “there is our ride ashore Mick”. As I swam to the whaler the Cox’n Jack Waters, one of my mess mates, saw me coming and pulled me into the boat. He then went to pull the PO in, but just then it turned over throwing us into the water, so that we ended up underneath the boat. There were seven or eight of us cursing and thrashing about trying to get out from under it. The boat then turned over again just as we had managed to lay across the keel to catch our breath. It did this a few times, and each time we managed to lie on top of the keel. One or two of the men swam ashore, and eventually there was only myself and Lt. Fullwood, our asdic officer left on the keel. He said “ I’m off Cope”, and away he went. I went under for the last time, and when I surfaced and got back onto the keel, I looked towards the shore. The shells from the German ships, which had been falling on the shore line, had stopped. I decided to slide of the boat and swim.

The Hermann Kunne

As I did, I heard a shout for help coming from the direction of the ship. I looked back to see a mess mate, Tony Hart in the water with a lifebuoy round his body. I knew he was a non swimmer and he was not even trying to paddle with his hands. I realised that he was going to be swept down the fjord and drown or freeze to death if he did not make it to the shore. I swam back to him, about twenty yards, and grabbed hold of a lanyard attached to the lifebuoy, and started to swim with my right arm pulling him to the shore. I could not use my legs, could not even feel them because of the coldness of the water. Slowly but surely we got nearer the shore. My Divisional Officer, Lt. Hepple, passed me twice towing non swimmers. He was a very strong swimmer and the second time he passed me he shouted “keep going Cope, you will soon be able to stand up and walk ashore”. Very soon I could, although my feet were so cold I didn’t feel them touch bottom. When we arrived on the snowy and icy beach I said to Hart, “right Tony, you are as good as I am now, you are on dry land, follow me to the top of that cliff”. I could see a trail of dirt , blood and discarded clothing like a pathway from the beach to the top. I soon realised why the clothing had been thrown away, the blue suits and boots were white, they were freezing. I got my belt and gaiters off with great difficulty. How I managed to undo the buckles or bootlaces with frozen fingers I will never know. Off came my boots, socks, suit, and a couple of jerseys, leaving only my singlet and underpants on.

U-boat 25 waiting at Baroy to see where the destroyers went. U-51 was in the Vestifjord.

I looked round to see if Tony was ready to follow me but he was still fully dressed. His clothes were freezing on him. He had the lifebuoy over his shoulder, so I stumbled back to him. I said “what are you doing with that lifebuoy, throw it back into the water”. He replied “I’m taking it home, my father will hang it over the bar of his Pub in Saltash as a souvenir”. I shouted “sod your father’s pub, we have to get to the top of that cliff, you won’t do it with that on your back”. I took it off him and told him to start taking his clothing off. He did this and we started to climb through the snow. When we reached the top we found a wire fence about four feet high. Normally, with my long legs I would have climbed over it easily, but I could not lift them. So I lay on the top wire and told Tony to push me over. He did so, and I went head first into the deep snow. I then helped him and a couple of other chaps over the fence. The trail of dirt, blood and more discarded clothing went on to the right for about two hundred yards, it then turned left along what would have been a garden path. At the top of the path was a house with snow up to its windows. We thought we could run to get back circulation into our legs, but we just fell onto our faces, so we just stumbled as best we could along the trail to the house.

The Kristensen’s house at the top of the hill. Photo Ron Cope.

There we found over one hundred survivors already crowded into two small rooms. As I entered, I saw that they had split up into their various groups. Torpedo men in one corner, stokers and seamen, in another. I joined my mess mates and we all snuggled down together to try and thaw out. Everyone like myself, had been forced to take off their clothing, even their underware, as they were solid with ice which was cutting into our bodies. I was then that I asked about my pal Bill Pimlett. I could not see him and thought he might be in another room. I was then told what had happened to him a short while after he had left me to go and make a cup of tea. Another mess mate missing was Alex Hurlier (?) an asdic rating. He had been hit by a shell when getting out of the water, having swum ashore. All the wounded had been put in a separate room, being tended to by the lady of the house, her seventeen year old daughter, and our ships doctor, Surgeon Lt. Waind. Chief Stoker Styles, having died, was put outside the back door on a bamboo stretcher. The bodies of the Captain, Andrew Werty (who had had his legs severed in the TS) and Alex Hurlier had been left on the beach. All those of the ships company who had been killed and were still on board Hardy, would be brought ashore by the Norwegians for later burial. Once we were thawed out and could move about, we went upstairs to look for clothing. Imagine, over a hundred sailors rummaging through boxes, suitcases, cupboards and drawers in search of something to cover our naked bodies. Alas all we could find were ladies and girls clothes, there was not a sign of any men’s clothing. The man of the house was a fisherman who had gone out in his boat for a few days and had taken his spare clothes with him. Everybody, except our canteen manager found something to wear in the end. I found a pair of girl’s knickers and a long ladies gown. The canteen manager was still searching but could find nothing so out of pity I gave him the gown.

The survivors from Hardy.

I t had been 0630 hours when we had swum ashore. At 1030 hours we noticed somebody marching up and down the quarterdeck of our ship, which by this time was well ablaze with ammunition still exploding. We recognised him as Lt. Commander Smith the navigating officer. The Torpedo Officer Lt. Hepple and a number of ratings swam out to the ship to bring him ashore and while they were there, brought back the money from the ships safe, which was distributed to all of the survivors. Some got a one pound note and a two shilling piece, whilst others got a ten shilling note and a two shilling piece. A meeting was held by the officers to decide what we should all do. One favoured phoning from a house nearby to the Germans in Narvik, to ask them to come out with lorries to pick us up as prisoners. He was out voted and it was decided that we should leave in two’s and three’s and head down the road to the south. We new the Germans were in Narvik to the north, but we did not know if they were coming up from the south. We did not even know how far we would have to walk before reaching a village or a town. In fact it was fifteen miles to a village called Ballangen. So off we went along the ice covered road at 1300. On one side were the steep cliffs leading to the mountains and Sweden many miles away. On the other side a sheer drop to the fjord, and deep snow in both cases. Consequently there was not much chance of us getting off the road if the Germans approached. We had very little on to keep us warm and we had cut our lifebelts up to serve as shoes, although after a few miles they were torn up by the ice. So we walked most of the way bare footed, tired and very hungry. We had eaten nothing since our supper the evening before.

The irrepressible Tubby Cock at Horse guards Parade. Photo Olwen George.

To keep our spirits up there was a lot of larking about and light hearted banter. The Chief Bosun’s Mate (Tubby) Cock, a man who weighed twenty four stones really made us all laugh. He sat on a small chair which was on runners. It was only meant for a child to use as a sleigh, but some of the lads had pushed him up the slopes and he glided down the other side. He then had to wait for his helpers to catch up with him. He was the only member of the ships company who did not take off his clothes. He let them freeze and then thaw out because he knew with his huge size he would never get anything else to fit. However he did manage to get a ski cap in Ballangen. He had jumped of the ship from the foc’sle, the highest part. The lads had accused him of drowning half the swimmers in the fjord with the waves he had caused. He took it all in good part and was a tower of strength to all of us.

Photo Ron Cope

I arrived in Ballangen at 2100 that evening. It was still light and I was fortunate to reach the village hospital. However I could not climb up the stairs to go in. However someone, I do not know who, as I was too far gone to notice came out to help me walk inside. I was laid on a bed to have oils rubbed into my legs and arms by two ladies. I found out later that they were voluntary nurses, many of whom came to the hospital to help our wounded. When I was feeling better and able to walk, one of the youngest of these ladies, Mrs. Wanda Haugland, told her son to fetch a pair of rubber boots and an overcoat. They had already provided me with a singlet and underpants donated by the Red Cross. She then told her son to take me to her home where I was able to have a ‘good wash and shave’ whilst waiting for the lady to come home. The boy, who was thirteen years old, spoke enough English for us to understand each other. He and his five year old sister, with all their friends stood around me and were obviously very excited at meeting this sailor who had been ‘shipwrecked’.

Cyril Cope with Mrs. Petra Christiansen, May 1990. Photo Ron.Cope.

When the lady returned she decided that I should have her husband’s suit, white shirt, shoes and tie. Dressed in these clothes nobody would have imagined that I had just walked fifteen miles. The lady then bought her sister in law to meet me. This lady had been in England with her husband for over a year and had just returned. She said “being an English sailor I know what you would like, a nice cup of English tea”. Off she went to make it, and I drank it with small pieces of Ryvita bread, fish and cheese. We then discussed the possibility of me making a run for it in case the Germans came to the village. The boy brought out his school atlas. The only way out of the village was over the mountains to Sweden, or down the road leading south to the port of Bodo. The latter meant going by ferry over three or four fjords. The former was out of the question as I could not ski. However the boy said he could teach me if I was staying long enough. He did try to, but time was against me, so it had to be a dash down the road to the south, if I had to leave. They tried to contact a friend, Lud, to provide transport, but he was not at home. Lud, his brother and their father owned a small taxi firm in the village. They had gone out to Mrs. Christiansen’s home, which was the house were we had originally gone after swimming ashore from the Hardy. They had gone there to bring back our wounded to the hospital. It had meant a few journeys undertaken slowly because of the bad road and their injuries. They had also taken part, with others, in bringing ashore our ship mates, who had been left on board the ship. They were to be buried in Ballangen or Hakvik cemeteries.

The Christiansen family with Cyril Cope, on the right is Mrs. Petra Christiansen and on the left is her youngest daughter Lilli. On the far right is Olav Kristensen , Foreman of the Narvik Veteraners. Photo Ron.Cope.

The father in law of one of the Lud brother’s had a small motor boat. He took four of our most severely wounded men,across and down the fjord to land them on the Lofoten Islands at a place called Harstad, where there was a more up to date, and better equipped hospital. On the way back he was stopped by a German patrol ship. He had been out after curfew in a boat in the fjord against regulations, and the Germans in charge said they could shoot him for it. He replied, “If that is all you have to do with your guns, to shoot an old man, then go ahead”. Happily they decided to let him carry on his way. At midnight, I decided to go into the village to find out what my ship mates were doing. I was worried in case they had to make a run for it, leaving me behind. I found them in the village hall drinking coffee and eating whatever little food the villagers could spare from their meagre stocks. No fishing boats had been allowed to return to or leave the village once the Germans had took control of the fjord. There had been no food arriving from Narvik, so there was a shortage at that early stage of the invasion. Their basic food was bread, fish and cheese with coffee and tea. The Mayor of the village had decided that all the survivors, except the officers, would sleep in one large classroom in the school at the top of the slope leading to the cliffs overlooking the fjord. The officers would be in private accommodation. A system warning us if the Germans approached the village, was arranged by the Mayor, whereby boy scouts with trumpets would keep watch. If the warning came then we would take off in the opposite direction to where the Germans were coming from. It could happen by day or night. We did have a few false alarms, and each time it happened, we were at the school. Out we came at the double, down the snow covered slope into the main road and through the village, well away to Bodo before being called back.

Cyril Cope and his son Ron with Petra Christiansen May 1990.Photo Ron.Cope.

Each of us had been told to choose a partner, nobody could go alone. I had chosen a mess mate called Balman from Plymouth, and we two were well to the fore in our dash for freedom. On the Thursday night it snowed very heavily and on Friday morning the road through the village was blocked as far as vehicles were concerned. The trumpet sounded, we ran like hell from the school, and I strayed from the path that had been cleared and went head first into deep snow. Before we could reach the main road we were told that it was a false alarm. It was Germans, but wounded ones, coming to the hospital. A long convoy of them in horse drawn carts, motor cars, prams, wheelbarrows and sledges. Some had legs missing and some had arms missing. All had been severely wounded during our attack on Narvik. The Mayor asked the senior officer if we sailors could help to clear the snow from the main road so that the convoy could get through to the hospital. He agreed, so out came the brooms and shovels, spades and rakes, and soon we cleared the road and the convoy was able to pass. Those Germans never realised that the men lining the route leaning on their brooms and shovels were British sailors, for by this time we were all in the local dress of ski clothing given to us by the villagers, or from the local store.

Mr. And Mrs. Haugland with Cyril Cope handing them a present from the family. Photo Ron.Cope.

The evening before, I had met Mr. Karl Haugland for the first time. He was in the house when I went in for a cup of coffee. His wife introduced me and he said “while you are here you can visit our home, but if the Germans enter the village, then you must go”. I replied “if the Germans come I will leave the village in the opposite direction, I have no wish to get you into trouble with them”. I then asked them if they could find some old ski clothes for me instead of the clothes I was wearing. As I felt guilty taking such good clothes away with me. They and the sister in law found me a full ski outfit between them. These clothes were much better for travelling, in the kind of weather we were experiencing. On Saturday morning, all the survivors except the officer’s, were in the school. We were due to go down to the village hall to see if there was any coffee available. We had just started to leave in our little groups when we heard a shell passing overhead. We thought the Germans had heard that we were using the school and were attacking us. Our Gunnery Petty Officer said “don’t worry, the Germans have no guns big enough to fire shells as big as those; it must be one of our battleships.

The Fairy Swordfish.

By this time we had reached the top of the cliffs overlooking the fjord. Away to our left we saw a wonderful sight, it was H.M.S.Warspite with nine destroyers coming up the fjord. The Swordfish plane coming from Warspite was approaching us. This was very fortunate, because down below us lying across the mouth of the inlet leading to Ballangen harbour was the German destroyer Erich Koellner, with both sets of torpedo tubes trained to port. These were facing the fjord ready to fire at our ships as they drew level with her. She could not be seen by our ships because of a bend in the shoreline, but the observer and pilot in the Swordfish had spotted her and had flashed a signal to their ship. The Admiral sent two destroyers, Eskimo and Bedouin to attack her, and soon the enemy ship was sinking. But a hundred survivors got ashore in a motor launch. More about that launch later.

H.M.S.Warspite

We started to clap and cheer and waved to the occupants of the plane, but if they saw us, they would only have thought we were Norwegians cheering them on. Their plane flew in the direction of Narvik to spot for Warspite’s guns and to send signals back of the positions of the enemy ships. Coming from the direction of Narvik we saw five enemy destroyers. They were ready to attack our ships, but as soon as they saw how many they had to take on, especially the Warspite, they soon turned around and scampered back up the fjord, firing their guns to no avail. Our ships persued them at full speed, all guns firing. Whilst they had passed our view we could hear the noise of guns and explosions as the enemy ships were hit. We could hear the big fifteen inch guns of Warspite as she poured one ton shells either into the enemy ship, or into the town of Narvik. The German ships in the second battle were Hemann Kunne, which was sunk by Eskimo in Herjangsfjord. Wolfgang Zenker, Georg Thiele, Bernd von Arnim, and Hans Ludemann, all sunk or beached in Rombaksfjord. The Erich Giese was sunk outside Narvik harbour, and the Dieter von Roeder was sunk by a torpedo from H.M.S. Foxhound in the harbour where it had been since being severely damaged by H.M.S. Hardy in the first battle. The Georg Thiele, which had done most of the damage to Hardy, is the only German destroyer visible today. Its bows are embedded in the shore where it lies as a reminder of that battle of 13th April 1940.

The Bernard Von Armin sunk in Rombaksfjord.

Our ships suffered some damage and many men were killed and wounded especially in the Eskimo which was hit in the bows by a torpedo from the Georg Thiele. When she passed down the fjord she was being towed stern first. I could see that from the bows to the bridge was missing. The Punjabi and Cossack also had casualties. Both ships had been very heavily hit. During the battle, and out of sight of us, planes from H.M.S. Furious had made attacks on the enemy ships but were not very successful. Two of them were lost. However the Swordfish from Warspite had made the first kill, sinking the U-boat 64. When all the German ships had been sunk our ships came down the fjord passing us at approximately 1600 hours. We could see some had been damaged, but it was with dismay and despondency that we saw our own ships go out of sight with no sign of one of them stopping to pick us up. They did not know at that moment that we were ashore, waiting to be rescued. I mentioned earlier the motor launch used by the survivors from the Erich Keller. When they reached the jetty our torpedo officer Lt. Hepple and Capt. Evans (who had been in command of the iron ore ship North Cornwall in Narvik harbour when it was captured by the Germans) took the survivors as prisoners, then handed them over to the Norwegians to be locked up in a garage.

A Fairy Swordfish dropping a torpedo.

It was not till our ships were returning down the fjord that these two officers decided to go out in the launch and contact one of our ships. They just managed to catch up with the last destroyer and were able to tell the Captain about the survivors from Hardy and that a number of merchant sailors in Ballangen needed to be rescued. This was signalled to Admiral Whitworth in Warspite, who sent two destroyers Ivanhoe and Kimberly back up the fjord to pick us up at midnight. Most of us came home to Scapa Flow in Ivanhoe, and from there we travelled by train to London to be met and welcomed by Winston Churchill on Horse Guards Parade. We then returned to our home port of Plymouth, and the barracks at H.M.S. Drake.

The Erich Giese scuttled by her crew after being badly damaged. Photo Ken Macpherson.

Once Hardy had been put out of action, we survivors lost all contact with our other ships and had no idea of what happened to them or the enemy ships. But later we were to learn that Hunter had been severely hit after taking over as leading ship. She was set on fire and disabled. She had also been in collision with Hotspur, the next in line of the flotilla when the steering gear of Hotspur had been put out of action. Hunter was stopped and Hotspur, heading towards her at full speed was unable to take any avoiding action due to her inoperable steering. The bows of Hotspur drove into the hull of Hunter and she sank very quickly into the middle of the fjord. From a ships company of one hundred and fifty, only forty eight survived. These were picked up by the German ships after they had returned from chasing our remaining ships down the fjord. Many men had frozen to death in the icy water. It had been too far from the shore to have any chance of swimming, and like Hardy, all of her boats had been wrecked in the action.

The survivors from Hardy finally rescued. Photo Ron.Cope

When Hotspur went out of control with no steering and locked into Hunter, she took a terrible pounding from the enemy ships. In the meantime Havock and Hostile steered clear of their two stricken sister ships and continued firing at the enemy, whist turning back to help Hotspur and Hunter. However Havock had both for’d guns out of action, so until they were repaired, it laid a smoke screen to shield the two ships. Then with guns repaired Havock and Hostile steamed towards the superior enemy force, but they having no stomach to continue the fight, headed off in the direction of Narvik. The three German ships which had come from Herjangsfjord had little fuel left to chase after our ships. The other two, the Georg Thiele and the Bernd von Armin had both been severely damaged, hence their hasty retreat, which was a godsend to our ships as they proceeded down the fjord. Havelock was towing Hotspur, and Hostile was on guard against further attack.

Honour Guard from H.M.S.Nottingham at Ballangen Cemetery. Photo Ron.Cope

Honour Guard from H.M.S.Nottingham at Ballangen Cemetery. Photo Ron.Cope

They met a large German ammunition ship on its way to Narvik. The Captain must have been unaware of the battle which had just taken place. Perhaps he had been keeping radio silence. However, there it was, a good prize for our ships. It was ordered to stop, the crew abandoned ship, and were picked up by Havelock. Then an armed boarding party was sent on board to examine her. She was named Rauenfels, a supply ship full of the stores and ammunition required by the German army at Narvik. Two rounds of high explosive were put into her by Havelock and there was a huge explosion which sent bits of the ship miles into the air. Fortunately, Havelock, although nearby, escaped any damage. Our ships then proceeded to the mouth of the fjord were they met up with other British ships. They gave their report of the battle to the Senior Officer, and then went to Skjelfjord to undergo repairs. So ended the battles of Narvik.

Cyril Cope at the graves of the men of Hardy and Hunter at Ballangen Cemetery, May. Photo Ron.Cope.

Cyril Cope at the graves of the men of Hardy and Hunter at Ballangen Cemetery, May. Photo Ron.Cope.

Foot note. The ten German destroyers sunk, were the most recently built at the time, and by losing them, the German Navy lost a quarter of its destroyer fleet. If those ten ships had not been disabled, they would have returned to Germany and could have been let loose in the English Channel at the time of Dunkirk. If they had been, there might not have been a successful evacuation of all those men from the beaches of France. The loss of the destroyers also prevented large units of the German Navy from putting to sea in groups, because there were not enough escorts for them. All this was recognised on the 50th anniversary of the battles of Narvik (28 may 1990) when the then Defence Secretary Tom King, at a memorial service and wreath laying ceremony in Narvik Cemetery at the graves of Hunter and Hardy, gave a speech in which he acknowledged the fact that there might not have been an evacuation of Dunkirk if those ten destroyers had not been sunk on 10th and 13th of April 1940.

Tom King and Cyril Cope. Photo Ron.Cope

In the Navik Overview I describe briefly the attack by the British into the Fjord. Recently (March 2008) I was lucky enough to meet James Renshaw, who was an Able Seaman on H.M.S. Hunter, and survived the attack. Also in the same month the wreck of ‘Hunter’ was discovered in 305 metres by the Norwegian Navy during a training exercise. The wreck will now be designated a War Grave.

James Renshaw

Images from the Norwegian Navy

Images from the Norwegian Navy

Jim was a delight to talk to and this is what he told me of those dark days of the battle of Narvik. He was only twenty two at the time. The attack was led by Hardy with Hunter, Havelock, Hotspur, and Hostile following. Two attacks were successfully carried out, but on the third attack at about 0330 all ships met with heavy gunfire from the German destroyers. At this point Warburton Lee gave the order for all ships to retire under cover of smoke screens. By this time the gunfire had become very severe and our retreat was partially cut off by six German destroyers who had been at anchor in the Fjord

H.M.S. Hunter.

In addition to being badly holed forward, Hotspur’s steering gear and starboard engine were put out of action resulting in Hotspur colliding with Hunter amidships. At this point Hunters Captain, Lt Commander Linsey de Villiers gave orders for everyone to abandon ship, which proceeded in quite an orderly manner considering that we were still under heavy gunfire. After about ten minutes Hotspur managed to free herself and retire, leaving Hunter with a great hole in her side listing to starboard and virtually a total wreck with her engine room rapidly filling with water. The ship was abandoned in about fifteen minutes with the crew flinging themselves into the freezing water. The time was about 0615, and by 0630 the ship had disappeared all together.

H.M.S. Hunter’s survivors. Jim is bottom row, second from the right.

After swimming around for the best part of an hour we were all picked up by three German Destroyers.The water temperature was 12% F below freezing and this alone must have accounted for the large number of causalities. Of the crew of 156 (8 officers and 148 ratings) only forty six survived

Swedish documents.

After swimming around for the best part of an hour we were all picked up by three German Destroyers.The water temperature was 12% F below freezing and this alone must have accounted for the large number of causalities. Of the crew of 156 (8 officers and 148 ratings) only forty six survived. All the survivors said that the Germans treated them very well, doing everything they could for their comfort. Besides being given brandy and other spirits to revive them, they were all bathed and given clothes. At 1000 hours all survivors were landed, thirty being put up in the German whaling ship Jan Wellem and fourteen placed in the Iris Café. One officer and three ratings were taken to hospital. We all spent three weeks here as prisoners of war until being sent to Sweden. This was still under German control and we had to stay there for two and a half years.

Jim’s medals

The Georg Thiele was a Leberect Maass Class Destroyer with a displacement of 2200 tons, and a complement of 315 officers and men. She was 374 feet long, 37 feet in the beam, and had a draught of nine and a half feet. Her machinery, performance, and armament was similar to the Dieter Von Roeder Class, except that she had four 3.7cm and six 20mm guns.

The Georg Thiele, Z2, was launched on August 18th 1935 and was completed in February 1937. She had a few teething troubles with her engines, and prior to her becoming part of Group 1 (Narvik) she was having repairs at Bremen for a troublesome water pump. However on April 6th 1940 all was repaired and the George Thiele embarked two hundred mountain troops and sped off to rendezvous with the rest of the Task Force.

Georg Thiele Z2.

After a dreadful journey in gale force winds and high sea’s the George Thiele, in company with the rest of the Destroyer group successfully disembarked her troops at Narvik. On April 10th at the start of the First Battle of Narvik, the Georg Thiele together with the Bernard Von Armin were lying in a side Fjord (Balangenfjord) and came out onto the British flank as they withdrew after successfully sinking and crippling five German Destroyers in Narvik harbour.

The bell from Z2, now in the Museum.

Amongst others, the George Thiele fired on the British Destroyer Hardy, scoring hit after hit and was mainly instrumental in driving her ashore. With the Bernard Von Armin she then turned her attention to Hunter and Hotspur, sinking Hunter with gunfire and a torpedo after she had damaged Hotspur so severely that she became uncontrollable and collided with the Hunter at thirty knots. The Georg Thiele was then hit hard herself in one of her boiler rooms, had one of her guns destroyed and her fire control system put out of action.

Georg Thiele hard aground.

By the time of the Second battle of Narvik, on April 13th, the George Thiele was only semi operational. She could manage 27 knots in a short burst, and the rest of her guns had been brought under local control so could all be fired. In addition to this she still had six torpedo’s.In the closing part of the battle, when the four surviving but badly damaged German Destroyers withdrew up Rombakisfjord, she acted as a rearguard so that the crews of the damaged destroyers could be landed before they were scuttled.

Korvttenkapitan Max-Eckart, of the Georg Thiele.

Unfortunately, she was caught by the British Destroyers Eskimo and Forester, who repeatedly blasted her with gunfire. Fighting to the end the Georg Thiele unleashed one of her torpedo’s and blew Eskimo’s bow off, before running herself hard aground.

The wreck as it is today, bows stuck up in the air.

This is the wreck I came to see. The bows stick out of the water and the stern is in 52 meters. Fantastic sight. We went down to the prop shaft where Steve had to tie on the rope This was a slight problem as it was 40 meters down and we were not exactly sure where the wreck was.Anyway as usual, Steve sorted it out, and once there it was great. Just below us was one of the guns pointing astern, the other is at 52 meters, then you come up the cliff of the hull which is lying on its side. On the right of the hull is the deck, with torpedo tubes, search lights and loads of portholes. As you go up towards the bow there are great caverns with loads more portholes with glass. All around were bits of brass and loads of switches.

One of the guns. Photo F. Bang

On the torpedo tubes on the second dive, I saw the fire selector and the rest of the tube bits including the gas bottles. Near there was a small two barrelled gun (probably anti aircraft). Near this was what looked like a breach from another gun lying on the floor. Over to one side was a broken mast with lots of electric insulators lying everywhere. When you get to the bit of the bow that hit the rocks, you can go down a tunnel back to about 40ft. This whole area is covered with plumose anemones, and there are some great anemones like snake locks but much bigger.

A search light. Photo F. Bang

On the second dive more of the same, but the highlight was to go in another little tunnel at about 60 ft and swim up through the wreck to about 15 ft. The tunnel got tighter and tighter, and on either side were holes through which you could see other compartments with loads of portholes. As it got tighter it got a bit iffy, but you could see out of the top, so all was well. Then we just swam along the keel not really wanting to leave, and gently on up to the surface. Because its right on the shore the dive boat likes to stand off, so it can be a bit of a long surface swim. This is a great wreck dive and was voted the best off all the ones we did.

Two barrels from an anti airgraft gun. Photo F. Bang

In April 1940, indecision on the part of the British Government, and the surprise invasion of Norway by the Germans, contrived to place the two opposing fleets in the same bit of sea at the same time, albeit unknown to each other. Thus was triggered the two sea battles of Narvik.(see Overview)

Map showing many of the wrecks in the Fjords.

In the engagements the British won two posthumous V.C.s as they destroyed ten German destroyers and a submarine for the loss of two of their own destroyers and two aircraft. The Norwegian Navy lost two ageing ships and two patrol boats. Over 700 sailors were killed on all sides, and it later came to light, that in the initial torpedo attacks, a German troop ship, carrying 3000 men of the Alpine Division, was sunk drowning all on board.

Map showing wrecks in Narvik harbour.

At the time of the battle over 25 merchant ships were anchored around Narvik harbour, and many were sunk. These ships, together with all the destroyers, have turned the area around Narvik into a spectacular graveyard of shipwrecks, to which access has only been recently granted.

The diving vessell Jane R.

All these wrecks were dived on in September 2004, from the Diving vessel Jane R, skippered by the inimitable Gordon Wadsworth, who is still finding new wrecks.

Gordon Wadsworth

While I was in Narvik I met a great underwater photographer called Frank Bang who has extensively filmed most of the wrecks in the area, and is still adding more. He was very kind to allow me to reproduce several of his photos in the articles below. visit his site Frank Bang’s homepage for more great photos.

• Narvik Overview
• Martha Henrik Fisser
• Strassa
• Blackwatch
• Karmoy
• Romanby
• Z-2 George Thiele
• Z-13 Erich Koellner
• Herman Kunne
• Hardy
• Dornier Seaplane
• Fredrick Henry Ward survivor from H.M.S. Hunter
• James Renshaw survivor from H.M.S. Hunter
• Cyril Cope survivor from H.M.S.Hardy
• Robert Mc Atamney survivor from H.M.S.Hardy
• Frederick Avery and the Hardy’s safe
• Austin McNamara’s Sea Boot Stockings
• Les Smale B.E.M. survivor from H.M.S.Hardy
• Anthony Ronayne B.E.M. survivor from H.M.S.Hardy
• Ralph Brigginshaw Hardy Survivor
• Harry Rogers, survivor from H.M.S.Hardy

On the 75th Anniversary of the Battle of Narvik, author Ron Cope shines a spotlight onto the brave young sailors behind this dramatic military campaign, including his father.

Attack at Dawn: Reliving the First Battle of Narvik in World War Two by Ron Cope (published by Clink Street Publishing RRP £11.99 paperback, RRP £7.99 ebook) is available from 10 April 2015 online from retailers including amazon.co.uk and to order from all good bookstores.
RRP £11.99… ISBN:978-1-909477-97-1 Ebook : 978-1-909477-98-8.

Three years after his book on the Battle of Narvik, Ron Cope now reveals for the first time the untold story of HMS Hunter and her crew.


Doomed Destroyer by Ron Cope (published by Clink Street Publishing RRP £12.99 paperback, RRP £4.99 ebook) is available from April 2018 online from retailers including amazon.co.uk and to order from all good bookstores.