XD Operations Read online

  In time Hill and Goodwin persuaded the Dutch captain that they were all British Allies and asked to be put in touch with the bank officials, and also a director of one of the largest oil plants. So the time spent under arrest was far from wasted, and was eventually turned to great advantage. After having drunk each other’s health, several times, and sworn eternal friendship with the appropriate toast of damnation to the Hun, at least that is what it seemed to be, judging by the manner in which it was received by all present, the three British officers parted company with their captors. The naval officer went off to negotiate the release of the bullion with the bank and government officials.

  Released from imprisonment, the sapper officers went about the task of reconnaissance and meeting the various directors. The Dutch authorities would not agree to an immediate occupation by our troops. Crossing over to the south side and landing at one of the installations Goodwin found the place deserted except for German patrols, as by now, the Germans were in occupation of much of the south side of the river. The presence of enemy troops in the vicinity of the plants before the actual fall of Rotterdam came as a surprise. After having taken a cautious look round, with one eye on a strolling sentry, Goodwin decided to re-cross the river and make further efforts to get in touch with the Dutch Military Commander or one of his deputies. This he did by telephone and explained the seriousness of the situation, but the Dutch general flatly refused to allow any demolition to be carried out, or even prepared. To make sure of it he gave instructions that the British officers were to be escorted back to the Hook. At about this time street fighting had broken out in Hudson Street near Lekhaven jetty which appeared to have been recently occupied by a small force of Germans. This was fortunate, because instead of escorting our young South African and his colleague back to the Hook, the Dutch invited them to join in the mêlée on their side. This no doubt appealed to them as an attractive diversion but with great self-control Goodwin decided that it would not help much with the job in hand. However, it gave them the chance to slip away unobserved and allowed them to make their way back to the Hook. They arrived back at 6 p.m. on Saturday after a fairly chequered and eventful journey and rejoined the rest of the sappers. Seeing that there was a destroyer lying alongside, perhaps waiting for the Dutch Royal Family, Tommy Goodwin thought it was a good opportunity to nip on board and have a bath. At the time the crew were all at action stations with the gun crews closed up as they were in a hazardous position. What Goodwin did not realize was that he was bathing directly under one of the after 4.7inch guns and also that German aircraft were approaching. Halfway through his bath there was an appalling crash as the gun opened fire, a basin fell to the deck and shattered and Tommy, thinking the ship must be sinking, ran out onto the top deck completely naked much to the amusement of the crew.

  The Hook of Holland had been subject to fairly constant bombing while he had been away and considerable damage was done but the party had escaped casualties. This was really remarkable because there was literally no cover, and one had to rely on spreading out round the area and taking cover in the bomb craters.

  On Sunday things became even worse and it was apparent that the end could not be far off. At this stage an official in the Dutch Government ordered immediate demolition of the fuel stocks. This resulted in the whole party of sappers going back to Rotterdam accompanied by a Dutch officer. Things really looked as if they were moving now, having at least some sort of official backing. On the contrary, when they arrived at Rotterdam they were met by a messenger who gave the Dutch officer written instructions forbidding them to do anything! Goodwin, by now heartily sick of the constant atmosphere of shilly shallying, struck off with his party towards the installations, determined to act on his own initiative and to see the job through in spite of official hindrance. Just as they got near the Schiehaven jetty a wave of low-level bombers flew over and dropped eighteen HE bombs, completely flattening the buildings and scattering the party. Fortunately the attack missed both the men and their explosives, which they were carrying on ordinary ambulance stretchers. As it was getting dark they took cover in a nearby deserted building which had evidently been a schoolroom. The raids on the town spread great havoc and confusion throughout the night, so there was no question of sleep, neither was there anything they could do at the time.

  On Monday morning, with the first streaks of light, the party crept out and gazed upon the very smoky and battered area all round them. Goodwin received final instructions to blow the Shell plant, also the American Petroleum installations that were both on the south bank of the Maas. The directive also stated that on no account were the plants on the north bank to be destroyed as these contained mainly vegetable oils for food (margarine) which must be preserved at all costs. Faced with the opportunity at least of being able to get on with the job, a detachment moved off towards the plants via Vlaadingen and crossed the river. Goodwin interviewed the manager who, of course, protested with great vehemence. He gave him a signed statement, written in his presence, to the effect that he and his staff should withdraw at once as it was his intention to blow the place up and fire the stocks, there and then.

  The actual refinery was very large and modern and inevitably they only had a minimum of explosives which they had carried on medical stretchers. Goodwin ordered the men to destroy as much of the plant in the refinery with sledge hammers and thereafter they managed to flood the buildings with oil from a nearby tank which was subsequently ignited hoping to cause the maximum amount of damage to the plant by fire. They then turned their attention to the tank farm where, in general, they used the preferred method of demolition by blowing off the main cocks on the tanks with gun cotton, flooding inside the bund and then firing it. Goodwin had an interesting moment when standing within the bund of a tank. Baker, not realizing that he was there, decided to hole the tank with an anti-tank rifle. One assumes that Tommy Goodwin’s words were unprintable! They then turned their attention to the American Petroleum installation and repeated the whole performance.

  Corporal Blake’s eyewitness account of these days, while waiting to be called forward from the Hook, and his memories of the actual demolition make interesting reading:

  We landed on Hook from destroyer, HMS Wild Swan on Friday, 10 May, 1940, under air attack. We soon experienced small arms fire and machine gun fire from German Paratroops and aircraft and German troops in the vicinity of the outskirts of the town. Fires began in the docks area and on railway trucks, etc. Our troops removed some burning trucks away from area.

  At times some of us joined Dutch soldiers and marines manning trenches and positions in buildings about one mile out from our area. No evidence of any firing returned by our own chaps, although we came under fire from both Germans and Dutch. Only a few of us were involved in these exchanges; we received orders to return to our own position, then witnessed fire from destroyer against German positions.

  Used Dutch lorries with their soldiers and drivers to check surrounding area for enemy location and for our demolition work, turned back after coming under fire a couple of times.

  Saturday, Royal marines landed from a destroyer as a covering force for RN demolition parties, who prepared destruction of docks, rail installations, etc.

  Sunday, detachment (Company) of Irish Guards landed from another destroyer, a bridgehead force to cover evacuation of Dutch Royal family.

  Sometime during the first day or two a group of Blenheim fighter bombers came over – believe all were shot down in air battles with Germans.

  At night – believe Sunday – most of us went aboard a ship and, keeping under cover, arrived at Rotterdam. Set to work demolishing oil and petrol storage tanks, breaking valves and pipes and blowing holes in tanks, started fires, sometimes with a fire of blankets soaked in kerosene, sometimes by firing tracer or Very light shells into the petrol, causing great fire and explosions. There was one incident of some of our chaps trying to cross to an island or promontory upon which were storage tanks, Germans were on there
and opened fire. Someone had the idea to fire at tanks with anti-tank rifles, making holes – out poured the petrol, then we fired tracer across – terrific explosions, fires and destruction – up went the lot, enemy too.

  All the time we provided our own cover, all Royal Engineers.

  By this time Commander Hill had at last been invited to remove the gold bullion, and the sappers, having completed their demolition task, turned to help. They loaded the bullion into vans that had already been provided and escorted them to Lekhaven jetty where it was loaded onto the pilot boat. This was all done during heavy air raids and nearby street fighting. The amusement and banter amongst the men while handling the heavy cases of solid gold would make a story in itself. Thirty-six tons were put aboard the pilot boat. Commander Hill, with some naval ratings, pushed off from the quay and with cheery farewells headed down river with the intention of joining the destroyer at the Hook. By a stroke of ill luck during the voyage they were blown up by a magnetic mine and all perished, leaving no trace of the men, gold or boat. Apart from the sad loss of a fine officer and the naval ratings, many millions of pounds worth of precious metal went to the bottom and added yet another item to the long list of treasure ships in Davy Jones’s locker.

  By this time the whole city seemed to be either in the process of being dive-bombed or indulging in street fighting. The terrible and vindictive onslaught that was inflicted on Rotterdam by the enemy is a matter of history now, but all the party agreed that it was a terrifying ordeal for the unfortunate population. It seemed as if the place was devoid of defences and the scene was one of stark horror, pure and simple. It was naturally with some relief, when the plants and buildings were blown up and fired, that the party withdrew by launch downriver to Vlaadingen. The flames were, by then, several hundred feet high and lit up the whole city with a bright glow, like some gigantic stage on which the tragedy of death and destruction was in full swing. When the party reached Vlaadingen, they transferred to the lorries which they had previously commandeered and were just about to set off, down the road towards the Hook, when they were informed by a Dutch officer who spoke English and wore a worried look, that numerous parachutists had dropped all along the route. They were mainly in the houses and farms on each side of the road and were holding up all movement between the Hook and Rotterdam. This seemed a serious predicament because any kind of detour was well nigh impossible, due to the intricate criss-cross pattern of waterways and drainage channels in the surrounding country.

  Clearly, something had to be done, and done quickly, unless they were to be captured. They decided to test the truth of the Dutch officer’s statement and to find out the enemy’s strength. Accordingly they divided into two streams, one each side of the road, and skirmished from cover to cover and house to house, a small rear guard following up behind with the transport. Apart from an occasional burst of fire from the odd farm, which might just as well have been fired in the belief that the party were Huns, they made good progress.

  They arrived back at the Hook at eight o’clock in the evening by which time the whole place was a complete shambles from aerial bombardment. They found the destroyer had put to sea with the Legation Staff earlier in the day which was a bit depressing, but being really tired they got under the remains of a string of wrecked railway wagons and slept through the night.

  On the following day, forced by hunger and thirst, the party went on a scrounging expedition with such success that a really high class breakfast was provided consisting of cocoa from a small Dutch naval vessel, stale bread from local ruins, fried chicken and duck from – well, it does not matter much where they came from. The remains of the local police post provided cigars to complete the feast and life seemed tolerably comfortable, except for the rather disturbing thought that there was no destroyer to take them back to England.

  The officers in the party held a council of war, and decided that rather than face certain capture by the enemy, they would take possession of a small vessel at dusk and sail westwards. The scheme seemed simple enough and full of promise, until their coveted little vessel set sail on her own account, as indeed had the bulk of the shipping around the coast. Back again to where they were as regards escape, Goodwin had a chance meeting with a naval officer at the port, who told him that one of our destroyers was standing off outside and was shortly coming in for stragglers.

  When the destroyer arrived, Goodwin asked the captain to send a message saying that they had destroyed 400,000 tons of oil on the south side of the river but the Dutch authorities refused to let them tackle the plant which had the vegetable oil on the north bank. At 13:00 hours he was given implicit instructions to withdraw immediately.

  In the early afternoon the destroyer Malcolm came alongside, our party boarded her and, in company with another destroyer, set course for Dover. The second vessel which followed, while still off the Dutch coast, was repeatedly bombed and sustained casualties. By luck, the destroyer carrying the sappers was not attacked, and arrived back in Dover at midnight. The members of the Rotterdam raid stepped ashore, unshaven, with their clothes soaked in petrol and thoroughly grimy. They slept at a naval establishment that first night and, having cleaned themselves up and now presenting a tolerably human appearance, returned to their unit at Gravesend little if any the worse for several eventful days crowded with stirring memories, having witnessed the fall and destruction of Rotterdam.

  Once again, although they had had to abandon some of their stores, they returned with all their weapons and remaining ammunition intact.

  Chapter Four

  ANTWERP

  The last of the four destroyers in line when they left Dover, HMS Brilliant was the first to break away; when abreast of Flushing she turned to starboard and entered the River Scheldt, pushing on upstream with the intention of getting as close to Antwerp as possible. The demolition party consisted of Second Lieutenant ‘Shorty’ Wells, one of the newly joined young officers from OCTU, in command of about sixteen men. The passage was strange as they passed craft of every description, all moving seawards in the hope of escaping damage or capture by the threatening hordes outside the city. Liners, tugs, large freighters, launches, tankers and the ubiquitous tramp steamers, their decks often tightly packed with refugees, were all making their way down to the sea, and freedom.

  The destroyer, with the naval and sapper demolition parties on board, threaded her way through this avalanche of miscellaneous craft, round the bends of the Scheldt and right up to Antwerp, the one large and flourishing port of Belgium. The town itself, lying on the east side of the river, which flows north – south at that point, spreads out to form an imposing skyline with the cathedral towers prominent among the many fine buildings and wide expanse of humbler dwellings. For some miles the waterfront is flanked with docks, shipyards, offices, factories and all the evidence of a highly industrious people and thriving commercial enterprise. Ships from the Seven Seas were lying in the approaches to this busy port.

  The destroyer anchored in the river, just off the pilots’ headquarters at the seaward end of the docks. The senior officers went ashore to visit the British Consul, whose offices were literally besieged with all classes of people desperate to secure passage to England. Belgian wives of Englishmen gesticulated at the harassed clerks, while their daughters wept as if to add poignancy to their mothers’ appeal. Businessmen pressed their claim with a vigour and persuasiveness acquired in the hard school of commerce. At one side stood a tall and dignified white-haired old lady waiting for an interview with one of those overworked young officials. She was clearly English and amidst the entire hubbub had an air of quiet composure.

  The naval and sapper demolition parties remained on board Brilliant in Antwerp for forty-eight hours, while the Naval Commander in charge, tried to negotiate for the two parties to be allowed to at least make a reconnaissance of their objectives. They were disembarked onto two tugs, one carrying naval personnel and the other the sappers. Brilliant then took on about eighty consular staff and o
thers and sailed for home.

  On all these operations it was laid down by the naval authorities that the ‘Safety of HM ships was of paramount importance’. Thus not only was the expedition expected to cope with the situation ashore and carry out their task, but also had to make their own way home without naval assistance. All were trained to act on their own initiative if separated or marooned and during the course of these operations they developed quite a remarkable homing instinct, so much so, that they invariably returned safely. One never quite knew when or how they would get back, but after some days they would report back to the unit’s depot with as little concern as if returning from leave. This homing instinct, once developed, is largely a matter of common sense plus determination, and the British soldier has frequently demonstrated his ability to get back, in the face of heavy odds and in spite of the efforts of the Germans to prevent it.

  Air raids became fairly frequent. One unlucky ship packed with refugees received a direct hit and had to be beached to allow some of the unfortunates to get ashore. As the tugs steamed across the river, they passed the city on the port side, and the Tête de Flandre on the other side on which stands one of those old forts, part of a ring of defences round the city. Standing like a ghost of some former military genius, it seemed to bear testimony to man’s determination to safeguard his possessions against spoliation. With their bastion defences, ravelins, counter guards and retrenchments, these old forts remain an historical monument to those days in the seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries, when the great French engineer Vauban revolutionized defensive fortifications.

  That Antwerp was so fortified is not surprising, for it was here in Flanders and Northern France where Vauban developed his system. These forts, well suited to the weapons of their day with their exact geometrical outline, offered little resistance against modern methods of assault despite efforts to modernize them and equip them with increased fire power and high angle guns.