The French Navy in World War II. Paul Auphan. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: Paul Auphan
Издательство: Ingram
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Жанр произведения: Историческая литература
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isbn: 9781682470602
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Urvoy de Porzamparc, well known and very popular in the Navy, commanded the 2nd Flotilla, based on Brest, which consisted of 12 destroyers of the Cyclone class (1,500 tons). Of the 9 placed under the orders of Admiral, North, 5 were sunk and 4 damaged. Only the Ouragan, undergoing repairs at Brest, and the Boulonnais and Brestois, sent to Norway and then to the Mediterranean, were absent from this battle.

      It was scarcely hoped to continue the evacuation as late as the night of June 3. The enemy was already nearing the inner defenses of Dunkirk. Admiral Abrial was burning his codes. But from Dover the English and French were preparing one final coup in force. When Admiral Abrial left his headquarters in Bastion 32, to view the last embarkations from on board a MTB, a tremendous activity was taking place in the harbor of Dunkirk. For the moment the sky was clear of enemy aircraft, but the furor of the land battle was increasing minute by minute. In an uproar of sirens the torpedo boats maneuvered at full speed—went alongside, took on their loads without making fast, and backed full away in brief minutes—crossed each other and sheered off in a whirlpool. The final miracle of Dunkirk is that there were not more collisions that night. Only one serious collision occurred, and even then, thanks to the fog, the ships succeeded in getting away to sea. The last loss of Operation Dynamo was the French minesweeper Emile Deschamps, which on the morning of June 4 blew up on a magnetic mine within sight of the North Foreland. Of the 500 men aboard, only 100 or so were rescued.88

      Note by Jacques Mordal: Among them I was fortunate to find myself with Lieutenant Jacquelin de la Porte de Vaux, one of my shipmates in the Jaguar, sunk 15 days before. The Emile Deschamps went down in a few seconds, taking with her a great many of our sailors, as well as a number of the survivors of the Jaguar. But, as in all tragedies, this event had its lighter side. After I had surfaced and recovered my breath, I heard myself being hailed by de la Porte de Vaux with, “Hello, Hello! Let’s sing!” And he began singing “The Song of Departure (“Le Chant du Départ”), one of our most famous military marches. I was picked up by the British sloop Albury; I do not remember the ship which picked up de la Porte de Vaux. But it so happened that the same ambulance carried us both to the first aid station at Margate. En route I was strongly reproached by him for not having sung while in the water, “as all sailors with their hearts in the right place must do in such circumstances.” I had been in no more of a mood to sing patriotic songs than my clothing could be said to give me a martial appearance. In fact, I was covered by a single blanket, which I felt sliding off me while I was being carried by a big devil of an Englishman toward a group of nurses who were attending the wounded. An indignant “Shocking!” coming from the lips of a blushing young nurse finally conveyed to me the fact that the said blanket and I had parted company. It so happened that I was repatriated to France shortly afterward, while de la Porte de Vaux was still in a hospital in England at the time of the armistice between France and Germany. I continued to serve in what became known as the “Vichy Navy,” while he joined the Free French Naval Forces. The reverse could just as well have happened; and astute is he who will tell me what my feelings would have been if I had been in my comrade’s place. Meeting unexpectedly one evening in Paris after the liberation, we fell into each other’s arms, calling each other “You dirty Vichyite!” and “You dirty De Gaulliste!” Then we ran together to the nearest bar to swap reminiscences. We almost left our whole month’s pay there!

      Plans had been made to save everybody, but the dispositions taken to embark the defenders of Dunkirk were defeated by the sudden appearance of thousands of men, coming from no one knows where. Out of caves, out of shell and bomb holes, came disarmed men, forming small human streams converging toward the jetty and joining together to form a huge, impressive human river almost congealed on the spot. With all approaches to the jetty blocked, the real last ditch defenders looked on in silence from a distance and saw the last embarkation leave the quay and the last ships clear the harbor. The night paled and the early dawn rose over an empty sea from which no further help could be expected.

      And thus the bravest remained in the hands of the enemy. In all, there were from 35,000 to 40,000 prisoners, but 215,000 British troops and 123,000 French had been snatched from the hands of the enemy. Of the total, the French Navy had evacuated 44,352 men landed in England, 3,936 sent directly to Le Havre or Cherbourg, and the passengers of a few transports who were not counted. The total was in the neighborhood of 50,000.

      The French Army Command was naturally in a great hurry to recover the use of the troops of the Armies of the North evacuated to England, as well as those waiting in Scotland or returned from Norway. The French Admiralty therefore set in motion, even during the evacuation, a continuous shuttle of transports, mostly French, between the English ports and Cherbourg and Brest. By June 9 one hundred thousand men had been repatriated without a single loss. At any other time the escorting of so many transports across the Channel with means primarily French would have been considered quite a feat; in view of what was taking place at Dunkirk, it received scarcely any attention at all.

      In addition to the evacuation, one last duty had been left to the defenders of Dunkirk—to make the port useless to the enemy thereafter. Despite repeated orders from Admiral, North, the British had begun to bottle up the port with blockships on the night of June 2; the following night the work was completed, this time in agreement with the French. The hulks of four sunken ships, each over 100 meters in length, blocked the inner harbor for a long time—in fact the Germans were still complaining about them in 1941.

      In addition the French Navy completed the Pas-de-Calais minefields. Between the 6th and 12th of June the Pollux and three other French minelayers from Cherbourg finished blocking the channel along the French coast there in an operation that was full of danger.

      On the 4th of June the following Navy communique was published to an anxious France:

      During the night of June 3, the last Army and Navy units which, under the orders of Admiral Abrial, had been defending Dunkirk to permit the withdrawal and embarkation of the allied Armies of the North, were, in their turn, evacuated in good order after having rendered the port unusable. The British and French Navies, by their close collaboration, successfully concluded an operation unique in history which permitted them to rescue over 300,000 men of the Allied Armies. . . .

      This was followed by the names of the ships lost. At that time only part of the French losses were given out. Moreover, on June 4 the actual losses were not even known to the Navy. The casualties, as finally tabulated, amounted to 2 super-destroyers, 5 fleet-destroyers, 30 auxiliary mine-sweepers (armed trawlers), 5 tugs, 3 oil tankers, 12 cargo ships, 1 passenger liner, and several other small vessels of which no trace has ever been found. Numerically these losses amounted to approximately one-fifth of the 300 ships of all sizes which the French Navy had committed to this operation.

      Thus ends the story of the miracle at Dunkirk. It was successful beyond all expectations. Even if the results had only been half so great, the incalculable importance of the defensive measures taken by the Commander in Chief of the Naval Forces, North, should always be remembered. There were countless others who contributed their share to that triumph, but it would be impossible to do justice to them all. Pilots of the Royal Air Force—ships’ gunners—firemen—infantrymen on the Mardyck Canal—masters of fishing boats or captains of destroyers—all of these, and others, share with Admiral Abrial and Admiral Ramsay in the glory of the feat which robbed Germany of a great part of her victory in the West. And who knows if it did not later influence Germany’s decision to forego the invasion of England?

      1 It is known today that this success on the part of the German motor torpedo boats based on the Dutch coast was due in part to their deciphering the message which the Jaguar sent to Dunkirk giving the time of her arrival.

      2 Ever since the fall of Abbeville, when the last remaining land wire was cut, all messages between Supreme General Headquarters and the First Group of Armies were handled by the Navy.

      3 Extract from Admiral Abrial’s official report.

      4 Counted from 0800 on May 29 to 0800 on May 30. In principle, evacuees embarked on a ship that was sunk are