Early in the morning, 9 April 1940. It seems the 'phoney war' has come to an abrupt end: the Kreigsmarine have begun landing troops all over Norway and Denmark.
The hard grey half-light that ushers in the dawn presents a daunting spectacle; mountainous seas rise and the bridge of HMS Renown is whipped by spindrift. Behind, five destroyers struggle against the gale to keep up with the battle cruiser.
It is enough to fight the sea, let alone the enemy.
"Ship at Red-three-oh: range 23,000 yards!"
"Start the plot! Port sixteen… Make to Admiralty, 'am engaging enemy'. Yeoman; get some ensigns up, there's a good fellow…"
Then, against the lightening horizon, flashes from the two powerful German ships. The shells have not even arrived when the gongs on Renown clang.
"SHOOT!"
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So a bit of scene setting aside, Henry and I had another little action recently. We set up for the Lofoten Islands Action in April 1940, when Renown clashed with the German 'twins', Scharnhorst and Gneisnau.
The action was set up pretty much historically. I, being the British, was set on a south-easterly course and Henry was on the opposite course but a little way to my left. It was half five in the morning.
The Force 9-10 was making life very difficult; the big ships were restricted to half speed, but the destroyers – Hotspur, Hardy, Havock, Hunter and Greyhound (there were others but they'd had weapons removed for minelaying, so I only included those ready for a fleet action) – found that that at best they could manage 1/3 of their normal speed. Added to this was that to travel above medium speed meant the waves breaking over the bows prevented the forward guns from firing.
This meant that my destroyers had no speed advantage over the Germans. Bearing in mind that they had eighteen 11" guns between them, to my six 15", I knew that this was going to be a hard action.
I had guessed that Henry would do one of two things; either he'd turn port, leaving me in a stern chase, or he'd turn starboard and fight me broadside for broadside.
If he turned port I would deliberately seek to get behind him so that neither of us would have our 'a-arcs' open; that would give me four guns in 'A' and 'B' against his six guns in his rear turrets. A disadvantage still, but 3 to 2, rather than 3 to 1. In this event the destroyers would probably be out of the fight.
On the other hand, if he turned to the north, starboard, then I would have the chance to head my destroyers to intercept while Renown headed towards the enemy's rear.
Henry turned to port, and at six o'clock in the morning we opened fire at 19,000 yards. In the event he had not turned as much as I'd expected, heading west, rather than towards the south. This might give my destroyers a chance! Ordering full revolutions my destroyers punched their way to the south to head off the Germans.
As usual my dice throwing was poor and Henry had the luck of the Irish, which just seems to have skipped a generation! Renown was hit and I was a bit rattled; 18 guns to 6 – not good.
This was the general situation at around half past six…
The shaft emanating from HMS Hotspur is neither a gun flash nor divine intervention. Unfortunately.
I was being mauled. Renown was by now suffering and I could see that I was going to have to break off. Making smoke and turning to port I attempted to put some distance between my flagship and her tormentors.
It was at this point that Henry had a flash of hubris: He turned to pursue, indifferent to my destroyers closing on him. I couldn't believe my luck – our lines were going to pass on opposite tacks just two miles apart!
So – here's a 'before' and 'after'…
My destroyers close and survive the onslaught from the Scharnhorst and Gneisnau's secondaries, although Greyhound takes a bit of a battering:
And after all five destroyers have launched 'utmost fish':
Now, in 'Battlestations! Battlestations!', each 'hit' can be removed using a damage control throw – essentially a saving throw which varies according to nationality and year. In 1940 Henry had a 50/50 chance to remove the hits.
He removed six out of eight.
Again, I couldn't believe my luck. Bad luck.
But Gneisnau had suffered massive damage.
It was pretty much over by this point. Renown was crippled and I had nothing to fight with; I'd used all my torpedoes. Renown was to be sunk and my morale was shot.
A salute and a handshake. Henry could have won a minor victory here; he'd damaged me and he could have withdrawn, which is all he needed to do. But the lure of the kill was too much, and hubris, the net that has ensnared so many great leaders, was his downfall.
Good fun as always, and Henry has now learned that destroyers, small though they may be, should never be allowed to get too close in any numbers!
Best wishes,
Nick