Seine Crossings 1944

 

One of the most individually destructive vehicle’s of the legendary ‘Tiger Tank’ weapons’ system. This is SS-Unterscharfuehrer (Sgt.) Kurt Sowa’s final series PzKpFw Tiger Ausf. E of 2.Kompanie, 2.Zug, schwere SS Panzer Abteilung 101, Normandy, June, 1944. On June 13 this vehicle was borrowed by the 2.Zug’s Commanding Officer, SS-Obersturmfuehrer (1^st Lt) Michael Wittman for a reconnaissance mission north of Villers-Bocage, that brought him immortal fame after it turned into an almost single-handed fight against 4^th County of London Yeomanry. Unlike Wittman, Sowa’s Tiger survived the fighting in Normandy and crossed the Seine intact only to be finally destroyed during the Battle of the Bulge, near a bridge at Stavelot.

The map shows the positions at which the Allied armies crossed the Seine and pushed on to free France.

For over 2,000 years the great rivers of Western Europe, the Rhine, the Meuse (Maas) and the Seine, have profoundly influenced the movements of armies and the plans of generals. All are formidable barriers behind which a defeated army could rally to fight another day; all have imposed a check, frequently prolonged, on the advance of victorious armies. In World War II after D-day their influence was as great as at any time in history. The Seine, if not as great an obstacle as the Rhine, is at least as formidable as the Meuse. Immediately above and below Paris it is never less than 200 yards wide, wider still about Rouen and beyond. The current is about 2 knots; in depth it averages 10ft and there are many islands, some submerged.

It was necessary to predict the likely progress of the Allied advance through France, not only for the vast panoply of logistic support behind it, but also to know when to prepare for crossing the Seine. In February 1944 General Sir Bernard Montgomery’s staff had produced a map showing eight ‘phase lines’ each labelled with a date. In doing so they assumed that the Germans would react on conventional military lines and, when threatened with defeat in Normandy, exploit the Seine barrier to cover their retreat to the line of the Somme. Some planners and senior commanders thought that if the Somme line were reached by autumn they would not be doing badly. They expected to reach the Seine within three months on D+90. Thereafter a pause was assumed before sufficient supplies came up to continue the advance. The first six weeks fighting after D-day went far more slowly than anticipated but when General George S. Patton’s Third US Army broke out of the Normandy bridgehead at Avranches on 1 August its lightning advance made nonsense of the predicted phase lines. The Seine, due to be reached on D+90, that is 4 September, was in fact reached by the American 79th Infantry Division on 19 August (D7-74).

At dawn on this date the spearheads of Patton’s columns were at Orleans and Chartres; 21 C47 transport planes were due to land 47 tons of rations near Le Mans in the first daily ‘emergency air lift. Temporarily freed from a supply shortage, Patton again let loose 15th and 17th Corps. After a virtually unimpeded morning drive a 15th Corps task force of 79th Division found that the Germans had abandoned Mantes-Gassicourt, 30 miles NW of Paris. They had been pulled out to cover the main road from Dreux to Paris. There were simply too few engineers and infantry to anticipate every likely line of Allied advance with demolitions and prepared defenses. Mantes’ 800ft bridge over the Seine, had been destroyed by RAF bombing. Patton, as usual in the vital place at the right moment, gazed across the river in company with Major General Ira T. Wynch the divisional commander. Machine-gun fire was coming from the northern bank. Patton was strongly tempted to order the 79th to cross at once. But in deference to the overall Allied plan of halting on the Seine, he held his hand until he had flown to see General Omar N. Bradley, now commanding 12th Army Group.

That evening after a long and bumpy flight, Patton was overjoyed to be told by Bradley that the plan to halt at the Seine had been scrapped. Instead Supreme Commander General Dwight D. Eisenhower now proposed to push on towards Germany and knock her out of the war. Bradley quickly approved Patton’s plan to set up a bridgehead four to six miles deep at Mantes and to build a major bridge capable of carrying tanks and heavy equipment. Bradley also enthusiastically endorsed Patton’s proposals to force the Seine without further delay east of Paris using 20^th Corps at Melun, Fontainebleau and Montereau and over the Yonne river at Sens. From here 12th Corps was to push on to Troyes and make a Seine crossing there. Meanwhile Bradley ordered Patton to swing 5th Armored Division NW of the Seine on to Louviers to hit the Germans flushed out of the Falaise pocket and making for Rouen.

Meanwhile at Mantes, Sergeant White’s patrol from 79th Division had discovered a demolished dam offering a narrow footway across the river. Maj. Gen. Wyche brought up assault boats and rafts, 5th Armored Division produced 700ft of treadway for a bridge. That night given Patton’s go-ahead, men of 313th Infantry Regiment walked across the dam under torrential rain in single file, each man touching the man ahead to keep from falling into the river. At dawn on 20 August 314th Infantry followed in assault boats. Working with lightning speed the engineers completed a light bridge by the early afternoon over which 315th Infantry crossed in trucks. By nightfall the bulk of the division, including tanks, tank destroyers and artillery, was on the east bank. Work on a Bailey bridge had already started, while AA guns came up to shoot down no fewer than 50 German aircraft over the next four days. The 79th Division next rapidly enlarged its bridgehead, chased off 1 8th Luftwaffe Field Division sent to hold it back and swept up the elaborate underground command post of Army Group B at La Roche Guyon sending the HQ troops scuttling away towards Soissons. Resistance at Mantes was comparatively light, nevertheless only highly trained troops and brilliant staff work could have executed this highly complex river-crossing with such speed and efficiency.

On 21 August Patton’s drive towards the Paris-Orleans Gap got going in true Third Army style. Major General Manton S. Eddy’s 12th Corps plunged forward with 4th Armored Division leading ; at Montargis they struck opposition, bypassed it and that afternoon, after a 70-mile drive, roared into the streets of Sens taking by surprise strolling German officers on leave in dress uniform. They then established a bridgehead over the Yonne. In the next few days 35th Infantry Division systematically eliminated the Germans stranded at Montargis. The ‘Fighting’ 4th Armored Division lunged forward once more 40 miles from Sens to Troyes and on 25 August, with all tanks firing, charged across three miles of open ground and swept into the city. Street fighting continued throughout the night. That very evening another column got across the Seine a few miles above the city. Swinging south on the far bank, it took the garrison of Troyes in the rear and put a summary end to the struggle there.

Meanwhile on their left 20th Corps had staged an equally dramatic and overwhelming drive from Chartres towards Fontainebleau brushing bewildered Germans aside in their relentless sweep forward. On 21 August 5th US Infantry Division made 50 miles and smashed a counterattack near Malesherbes. Next morning about noon their leading troops reached the Seine at Fontainebleau. Here Lieutenant Colonel Kelley B. Lemon Jr., a battalion commander, found that the bridge was down. He plunged into the river, swam across, found five small boats on the far side and paddled them to the west bank. Embarking his men in them he soon had a bridgehead on the far bank. Meanwhile Captain Jack S. Gerrie and Sergeant Dupe A. Willingham had found a canoe and reconnoitred the far bank in the teeth of hot German fire. Others followed; by 23 August, crossing in boats collected nearby, the 11th Infantry also had a strong bridgehead and a treadway spanning the river.

On their right 10th Infantry cleared Montereau and staked their claim across the Seine.

At Melun, 25 miles south of Paris, 7th Armored Division faced a tougher proposition. Here the town straddles the river which divides it into three parts; the banks are steep and difficult to climb. The east bank is dominated by high ground which an infantry regiment of the German 48th Division was holding in strength. Major General Lindsay McD. Silvester, finding the bridge here still intact, ordered his Combat Command Reserve (CCR) to rush it without artillery support. They were halted by withering fire. That night the Germans blew up the bridge. Next morning Silvester brought up Combat Command A (CCA) who, using assault boats, forced a crossing seven miles downstream from Melun and by nightfall on 23 August had secured a firm foothold on the east bank.

Meanwhile the Corps Commander, Major General Walton H. Walker, had arrived at Melun. Apparently dissatisfied with CCR’s preparations for another attempt, he ordered an immediate attack by an infantry company onto an intervening island. This island, with a civil prison on it, was linked to the west bank by a partially destroyed bridge; this the infantry rushed in the teeth of heavy fire from the east bank. They seized the island, releasing in the process a large number of distinctly unpleasant criminals. For this exploit General Walker got the DSC; his aide was also decorated. Eventually CCB of the division using the crossing north of the town turned south and prized the defenders off the east bank.

Four bridgeheads

Thus on 25 August Bradley’s 12th Army Group had four bridgeheads over the Upper Seine south of Paris between Melun and Troyes in addition to the Mantes-Gassicourt crossing 20 miles to the north. On this day General Dietrich von Choltitz, the commander of the 5,000-strong Paris garrison, surrendered the city with all its bridges intact to First US Army. The Americans were out of the strait-jacket which the river had imposed and free and eager to dash onwards towards the Rhine.

In the north, west of the Seine, the fighting was by no means at an end. It was not until 22 August that First Canadian Army finally closed the Falaise Gap on 60,000 Germans. Field Marshal Walther Model, the new Commander of Army Group B, still had about 30,000 troops, 314 guns and 42 tanks in the north. These he ordered to stage a slow withdrawal across the Seine via 18 ferries which were still operating at Rouen. There he intended to stand and fight on the east bank. The densely wooded country west of Rouen and the Seine greatly favored the defense. The US 19th and 15th Corps found the going hard when they swung north across the British front and the Canadians. Fifth Panzer Army’s rearguards pulled back almost in their own time to their final bridgehead west of the Seine formed by the Rouen, Duclair and Caudbec loops of the river and the dense Foret de la Londe.

It was now the turn of the British 21st Army Group to cross the river. At Vernon Montgomery proposed to force the crossing and then with the armored divisions of 30th Corps under Lieutenant-General Sir Brian G. Horrocks to plunge forward so as to anticipate Model at the line of the Somme about Amiens. Then they would go all out for Brussels and Antwerp. Horrocks was temporarily sick with migraine so Montgomery ordered him to bring his caravan to his own Tactical HQ and rest for a day or two. The C-in-C pointed out that Major-General G. I. Thomas of 43rd (Wessex) Infantry Division was supremely well qualified to carry out the crossing. For two-and-a-half years before D-day, on the slightest provocation, in all weathers and in all seasons, he had exercised his troops in crossing the rivers of SE England. There seemed to be in this operation no enemy action or topographical hazard for which he had not prescribed a drill.

About noon on 25 August, the leading troops of 43rd Wessex carried in DUKW amphibious lorries from the Normandy beaches and on the Sherman tanks of 4th/7th Royal Dragoon Guards (8th Armoured Brigade) wound down the steep and winding road into Vernon. This charming town straggles along the western bank of the Seine. Woods and buildings give good covered approaches to the river. On the far bank the suburb of Vernonnet stands on a strip of flat ground. Immediately behind the ground rises in an escarpment which completely dominates the river on both banks. The upper parts of this escarpment are covered with woods extending to a depth of five miles. The railway bridge 400 yards downstream of the town center had a large gap in it but the extensively damaged road bridge was reported to be passable by troops in single file.

Abandoned German weapons

Once in the streets the troops suddenly found themselves engulfed by large and excited crowds, many of whom flourished abandoned German weapons. On the far bank of the river the Germans were plainly visible in at least six prepared positions. While these were being reconnoitred, the Maire (town mayor) arrived and invited one of the battalion commanders to a banquet. Despite such distractions preparations went ahead with all speed. A complete medium MG company of 8th Battalion, The Middlesex Regiment, installed themselves with 36 Vickers .303in guns in the upper rooms of houses overlooking the river. The 15th/19th Hussars’ Daimler armored cars took up concealed positions for their 2pdr guns and 7.92mm BESA MGs. Observation posts were occupied by the gunners; assembly areas for boats, rafting gear and for the assaulting battalions were found and signposted. All this was done without arousing German suspicions. The French pointed with remarkable accuracy to the exact positions of German MGs and flak guns on the far bank. By 1800 all was ready. It was a beautifully sunny evening with scarcely a breath of wind. Suddenly the guns and mortars of the division opened up. German sunbathers on the cliffs opposite dashed for their positions. In a flash Vernon’s streets were empty. Within minutes the hillside on the far bank was carpeted with puffs of smoke which slowly mushroomed under a deluge of HE and MG tracer bullets.

Partly concealed by the smoke screen now being put down by the artillery bombardment, the leading companies of 5th Battalion, The Wiltshire Regiment, carried their eight wooden 20ft storm-boats down to the river at 1815. Fourteen men embarked in each and paddled out into mid-stream. Near the far bank murderous fire greeted them; only one boat survived. When night closed in, an officer of the Royal Engineers, clad only in a duffle coat and a pair of socks, got 70 men across in successive trips with this solitary boat. On landing they formed a tight perimeter around a house. Here they beat off two particularly vicious counter-attacks but eventually, their ammunition exhausted, were overwhelmed. Undeterred by this reverse, their CO, using a single DUKW, started to ferry the rest of his battalion across, a platoon at a time. By dawn he had a firm grip on part of the escarpment.

Meanwhile two companies of 4th Battalion, The Somerset Light Infantry crossed farther downstream but were astonished to find themselves on an island. What they had been told was a dry strip of land was found to be a deep watercourse. The attempts of 1st Battalion, The Worcestershire Regiment, to rush the broken bridge had been met by intense MG fire. The survivors under Sergeant Jennings had to be pulled back.

At midnight, Maj.-Gen. Thomas found himself in a situation for which even his prolonged studies, exercises and experiments offered no sealed pattern solution—fierce resistance and apparent failure on the right ; stalemate at the broken bridge and part of a battalion marooned on an island. It was at this crucial moment that the Worcesters’ dinners arrived. Thus fortified, they decided to make another attempt to get across the broken bridge. This time a patrol managed to grope their way over in the inky darkness and catch the Germans napping. The whole battalion quickly followed. At about the same time the Somerset Light Infantry managed to get off their island and land undetected on the far bank near the bridge. Thus when dawn broke on the 26th the Division had the best part of three battalions across the river.

The enemy, however, still held the three spurs which dominated the chosen bridge sites, all the crossings and part of the suburb on Vernonnet. But in spite of enemy artillery and automatic fire and low-level air attacks 43rd Divisional Engineers had a 680ft-long light bridge spanning the river and open for traffic by late afternoon. Anti-tank artillery and Bren-gun carriers along with a few tanks of the 4th/7th Dragoon Guards had been ferried across on rafts. At nightfall the division had two brigades across the river and work had started on a Class 40 tank-carrying bridge.

Luck favored the British

Luck on this day certainly favored the British. A message from Lieutenant General Macholtz, ordering 49th Infantry Division to counter-attack, apparently went astray. When finally delivered, the attack, with the support of Tiger tanks, rushed in from Beauvais 35 miles away, fell mainly against 1st Worcestershires beyond Vernonnet. It was beaten off with considerable loss on both sides. When Major Parker commanding a company of 5th Battalion, The Duke of Cornwall’s Light Infantry, was in danger of being overrun, he brought down the fire of the divisional artillery onto his own position and thus broke up the attack. While the battle raged, the complete engineer hierarchy of 21st Army Group descended upon the sappers struggling to complete the bridge. They had to cope with the Germans breaching a dam which lowered the river’s level by 6ft. Seldom in history have so many senior officers of the Royal Engineers assembled together so far forward. They were shelled and shot at under the admiring gaze of the infantry, happy to be spectators, for a change.

On 28 August the division completed its task on time and to the letter. At a cost of only 550 casualties while taking almost as many prisoners, it had established a perimeter four miles deep. That afternoon the tanks of 11th Armoured Division started to rumble across the Class 40 Bridge now christened ‘David’. The next day, Horrocks with the tanks of 30th Corps would race for Amiens and beyond. In less than a week Antwerp would be reached. The 43rd Division, deprived for the moment of their transport, sat down on the sunny banks of the Seine to enjoy their first rest since D-day and be regaled by the local inhabitants with stories of their sufferings under German occupation.

Meanwhile the Germans, distracted by the 43rd Wessex and at death grips with the Canadians about Elboeuf, had failed to stop a coup de main by a brigade of 15th Scottish Division on the 27th. It crossed the river in storm-boats and DU KWs near St. Pierre du Vauvray two miles from Louviers losing three craft to MG fire. Another brigade got over virtually unopposed near Porte Joie a few miles downstream. By mid-day on the 28th Major-General C. M. Barber had linked up the two bridgeheads and, expanding them eastwards, moved his third brigade over unmolested at Muids below Les Andelys. By the 29th 12th Corps engineers had completed both a light and a heavier bridge over which 53rd Welsh Division and 4th Armoured Brigade began to cross.

Thus far the price paid by the Americans and British was much lighter than anticipated. For the Canadians it would be different. What the ‘Battle of the Hedgerows’ had been for the Americans, the fighting on the Falaise road and on to Chambois had been for them. Many of their best junior leaders had fallen. On the basis of the fighting in North Africa Infantry casualties had been calculated as 48 per cent of the total, ‘in periods of intense activity’. Provision for reinforcements had been made accordingly. For the Canadians on 17 August the figure was 76 per cent. The 2nd Canadian Division’s nine infantry battalions were 1,910 men short and this included many reinforcements with no battle experience.

By 25 August the fragments of Fifth Panzer Army and Seventh Army were crowded in the large bridgehead formed by the Rouen, Duclair and Caudebec loops. Facing Elboeuf, 17th Luftwaffe Field Division held the high ground on the east bank blocking the crossing and the way to Rouen. In the Foret de la Londe they had the fresh 331st Infantry Division brought up from the Pas de Calais and sundry battle groups including tanks with orders to cover the remaining escape routes over the Seine. At Rouen one small bridge was still intact as well as the ferries. There were ‘unpleasant scenes; in some cases troops fought each other for transport across the river’. The SS formations insisted that they were entitled to priority over all others. Nevertheless the higher-ranking commanders of Fifth Panzer Army did succeed in imposing order over the crossings, especially on the 26th and 27th.

General Simonds’ plan

It was against this hornets’ nest that Lieutenant-General Guy G. Simonds launched his 2nd Canadian Corps on 27 August-4th Armoured Division on the right was to seize a bridgehead beyond the Seine about Pont de l’Arche and Criqueboeuf then thrust north ‘by coup de main’. The 3rd Infantry Division in the center was to cross at Elboeuf. As for 2nd Division it was ‘to clear the meander’ south of Rouen also by coup de main. Simonds’ plans were to prove easier to prescribe than to execute.

Fortunately for 4th Division the scout platoon and ‘D’ Company of the Lincoln and Welland Regiment, using shovels as paddles, propelled a small boat across the river near Criqueboeuf, three miles above Elboeuf, on the previous afternoon. Next morning the division attempted to

expand this bridgehead only to be pinned to the ground by a veritable hurricane of artillery and MG fire. Evidently 17th Luftwaffe Division had no intention of allowing an advance on Rouen from this direction. Surprisingly 3rd Division met little opposition in ferrying across at Elboeuf. Here, working under almost continuous shell fire, Canadian engineers had two tank-carrying rafts in operation. By dawn next day they had a Bailey pontoon bridge for tanks. At nightfall on the 28th both 3rd and 4th Divisions had a firm foothold on the low hills about a mile inland. Here for the moment they were halted.

The Rouen crossings stood at the top of a loop in the river, the base of which was an isthmus three miles wide with secure flanks. It was approachable only through the Foret de la Londe 6,000 yards deep and about 130ft above the level of the river. This was the very core of the German defense and immensely strong. Their positions were commanding, their camouflage excellent, their mortar and MG fire deadly accurate and their morale remained high. Indeed, they had no alternative but to go on fighting; to fall back without permission would have meant summary execution.

When 2nd Canadian Division advanced into the forest they had no inkling of what lay ahead. It was hard to keep direction and their maps were inaccurate. When the leading right-hand battalion (of 4th Brigade) moved forward before daylight on the 27th they took the wrong turning in the wood and walked straight into MG and mortar fire west of Port du Gravier which stopped them in their tracks. Attempts by the remainder of the brigade to get forward came to naught. Next day, despite heavy artillery support, they fared no better. A final desperate attempt, on the 29th by the Royal Hamilton Light Infantry withered in the face of intense fire from the forest-clad heights. On their left 6th Brigade struck equally obstinate resistance. After three days of particularly vicious fighting 2nd Division had little to show for over 600 casualties.

Air support, particularly on 28-29 August, partly owing to bad visibility, had been disappointing. The German troops covering Fifth Panzer Army’s final move only withdrew according to plan and when ordered. During the early hours of 30 August their rearguard, the 331st Division, finally pulled back across the river. That afternoon 3rd Division moved north towards Rouen. Brigadier J. M. Rockingham of 9th Brigade, in his armored car, was first to the main square of Rouen hot on the tail of a German rear party which a patrol of the Highland Light Infantry of Canada soon eliminated

Fifth Panzer Army claimed they had succeeded in getting 25,000 vehicles across the Seine. Nevertheless they left behind them on the left bank a mass of burned-out vehicles and equipment consisting of 20 armored vehicles, 48 guns and 600 lorries and cars. A further 3,648 vehicles, guns and 150 tanks had been abandoned along the roads from Lisieux and Vimoutiers. The Allied air effort here compared poorly with the support 19th tactical Air Command gave Patton. According to the Germans the Seine ferries had been operated during daylight although 500 medium and light bombers struck at them on the 29th.

The Allies owed much of their success to the brilliant manner in which Patton handled Third Army, literally sweeping the Germans off their feet and by boldness and speed carrying the Seine crossings on the run. If he had been ordered to exploit his 20 August Mantes-Gassicourt crossing by a thrust north along the east bank instead of the west, fewer Germans would have got across the Seine. This was no fault of Patton’s: Eisenhower and Montgomery had other plans.

Instead, in the last days of August it seemed that if the High Command had ordered them to press on while the going was good the war must inevitably end in 1944. Many still think so to this day.

‘Scharnhorst immer voran’

When Scharnhorst left Altenfjord in northern Norway on what was to be her last voyage, she was probably the Royal Navy’s most hated enemy. This 32,000-ton German battleship had been the killer of the armed merchant cruiser Rawalpiridi; she had sunk the aircraft-carrier Glorious together with her escorts, the destroyers Ardent and Acasta, with dreadful loss of life. Even while Scharnhorst was holed up in a Norwegian base, powerful Royal Navy units had to be used as cover for the Murmansk convoys to Russia to protect them from the threat of attacks by her nine 11 in guns, backed by a formidable array of AA armament and torpedo tubes.

Similarly in the Atlantic. The U-boat menace was grave enough—in November 1942 U-boats sank more than 700,000 tons of Allied shipping in the Atlantic in one month —but Scharnhorst could do more damage to a convoy than a whole pack of U-boats.

The Germans for their part, could be more relaxed. Christmas Day 1943 found Scharnhorst’s crew ignoring the blizzard that raged at the fjord’s mouth. Christmas parcels had been distributed, cigar-smoke wreathed the mess-decks and even the presence of the admiral himself did not cramp the celebrations. For Rear Admiral Erich Bey was an old destroyer man, accustomed to the more free-and-easy manners of small ships. He was a real ‘old salt’, with a friendly smile, a bluff manner and a broad sense of humor—as well as a first-class fighting sailor with a record to prove it.

“Lucky” Scharnhorst

With Vice Admiral Oscar Kummetz, his immediate superior, on leave, Bey was about to hoist his flag in Scharnhorst, known as the German Navy’s ‘lucky ship’ ; a ship with four years of combat in which she had been damaged by mines, torpedoes, aircraft and shells from British capital ships—and had always emerged to fight on. Bey believed in her; Captain Hintze, still new to his command, loved her; her veteran crew worshipped her.

Bey came aboard from the battleship Tirpitz, crippled by a British midget submarine attack, and lying some 10 miles back in Kaafjord at the base of Altenfjord. At 1400 he gave the order : ‘Make ready for sea’. The Christmas celebrations were over for the battleship’s crew of nearly 2,000 men.

Bey had received his directive from Admiral Otto Schniewind, commander of Naval Group North, based at Kiel, who had received it in turn from the Commander-in-Chief, Grand Admiral Doenitz, in Berlin. A British convoy had been reported, Murmansk-bound with arms for Russia, where the Red Army was about to launch a massive counterattack on the Leningrad front.

Earlier that year, Adm. Schniewind had declared: ‘All my commanding officers are in no doubt that the main purpose of their ships is to fight’. But now that Tirpitz had been permanently crippled and unable to move, and Gneisenau had been smashed by the RAF at Kiel, Scharnhorst was his only major unit. And Adm. Doenitz, harassed by Hitler’s rages at the Navy’s lack of success and his threats to ’scrap all the big ships—draft their crews to the Eastern Front—use their guns for coastal defense—’, ordered Scharnhorst, his last battleship, to sea.

In the worst of Arctic weather, Bey was ordered to take Scharnhorst out with an escort of five destroyers. The target was convoy JW55B, heading towards Russia from Scotland. In November 1943, Bey had said that Scharnhorst should not be committed to action until Tirpitz could accompany her. Lightning destroyer raids were all that could be contemplated, he warned, adding ‘. . . experience in this war which, despite our weakness, has produced many favorable situations for us, justifies the hope that we may have luck on our side’. Now he must push his luck to the limit. As Scharnhorst and her destroyers left Altenfjord, at about 1900, in the face of blizzards, strong winds and mountainous seas, Bey received a direct message from Doenitz : ‘Attack and destroy the convoy to alleviate the struggle of your comrades on the Eastern Front’.

The 19 ships that made up convoy JW55B were not ill-protected. Their close escort of two corvettes and 15 destroyers, led by Captain J. A. McCoy in Onslow, was supported by three cruisers under the command of Vice-Admiral Robert Burnett in Belfast, in company with Sheffield and Norfolk. This, German Naval Command believed, was the sum of the convoy’s escort. Adm. Doenitz, in his memoirs, said: ‘A convoy carrying war material for Russia … protected by a cruiser escort that was no match for our battleship … could not hope to avoid our attack’. He had no doubt that Scharnhorst, with a speed advantage in a heavy sea, could deal with all three cruisers. He may have decided that the British destroyers would be ineffectual in such weather, because Scharnhorst had already reported that her own destroyers were near-helpless in the angry seas.

The first report on the exact position of the convoy had been made as early as 0900 on 25 December by the submarine U-601. Subsequent reports from U-boats and reconnaissance aircraft (when weather allowed them to fly) kept Doenitz, Schniewind and Bey informed on the convoy’s movements. Bey had planned to hit the convoy at ‘first light’; a vague phrase, since the maximum ‘daylight’ to be expected in the Arctic winter is an uncertain murk between 0830 and 1530. Otherwise, it is near-total darkness. What the Germans did not know was that on 24 December, Admiral Sir Bruce Fraser, C-in-C of the British Home Fleet, had ordered the convoy on to a reverse course for some three hours and had subsequently increased its speed. These factors were seriously to affect the German calculations.

After receiving a report from U-601 stating: ‘Wind south, Force 7 (up to 33 knots), rain, visibility two miles’, Schniewind asked Doenitz to call off the whole operation, since there were signs that the weather would grow even worse. Doenitz ordered that the attack go on. Schniewind complied, but sent Bey a curious signal… a concerted attack will only be delivered if conditions are favorable. If conditions do not suit Scharnhorst, destroyers will attack alone’. Then, remembering that Bey had already hinted that his destroyers could not operate in the heavy seas, Schniewind suggested that Bey should ‘consider’ an attack by Scharnhorst alone. Schniewind was trying to have it both ways: whatever happened, he could now show that he had both urged an attack—and also advocated caution.

The three-cornered exchange of signals between the German admirals had unfortunate results. First, Bey’s signals had been picked up and deciphered by the British; they knew by 0400 on 26 December that Scharnhorst was at sea with the destroyers Z-29, Z-30, Z-33, Z-34 and Z-38. As Adm. Fraser had feared, it was obvious that the Murmansk convoy was threatened. Second, in the buzz of talk between the German admirals, a most important message had failed to reach Scharnhorst in its entirety. This warning, sent by an aircraft soon after Scharnhorst sailed, spoke of ‘five warships, one apparently a big ship, north-west of Norway’.

The message reached the admirals by way of Luftwaffe intelligence at Kiel. But the Luftwaffe officer who took the report was a little too efficient. Knowing of the dreadful weather conditions off Norway (which were to ground most of the Luftwaffe on 25 and 26 December), he doubted the accuracy of the report—and censored it! The message as it reached the admirals omitted the phrase ‘one apparently a big ship’. Bey assumed, with the tacit agreement of Doenitz and Schniewind, that the sighting referred to his own five destroyers, which he had sent ahead on a scouting run.

But the report was accurate. And the ‘big ship’ was the Royal Navy’s 44,500-ton battleship Duke of York, whose main armament was ten 14in guns; she was some four knots slower than Scharnhorst but even more heavily armored. The flagship of Fraser’s Home Fleet, the Duke of York, was accompanied by the cruiser Jamaica, the destroyers Savage, Saumarez, Scorpion and the Royal Norwegian Navy ship Stord. Six ships in all; and although Fraser (like Bey) had broken radio silence, his messages had not been intercepted by the Germans.

The trap is set

The battle of North Cape, off the northernmost point of Scandinavia, began on the morning of 26 December 1943 at 0825, when the destroyer Z-29 signalled to Scharnhorst: ‘Silhouette sighted distance four miles’. The destroyers had made contact with Burnett’s cruisers and thus, presumably, with the convoy. Scharnhorst drove at 32 knots—full speed —towards the scene. But she was heading into a trap: Burnett’s cruisers were well east of the convoy, and now steered to intercept Scharnhorst. Fraser, now some 150 miles south-west of the convoy, was heading north-east, also on an interception course. The convoy itself lay farther west than either Fraser or Burnett.

But could the British close the jaws of their trap swiftly enough both to save the convoy and cut off Scharnhorst? And could the British destroyers, which were intended to play an important part in the action, operate in a sea so rough that Bey was later to send his destroyers back to base?

The battle was to last for around 12 hours, and Scharnhorst’s first encounter with Burnett’s cruisers was to lead to her eventual destruction. At 0922, when all three cruisers had made radar contact at ranges between 16 and ten miles, Belfast signalled: ‘Enemy in sight’. At 0927 Burnett gave the order to open fire. Within three minutes, shells from Norfolk’s 8in guns had scored hits—wrecking Scharnhorst’s forward radar equipment.

Radar in the British ships was superior to that of the German navy. It enabled the Norfolk to find the range of the Scharnhorst in near-darkness, while the German’s inferior installations meant that reliance had to be placed on optical range-finding methods.

Now, in near-total darkness, Scharnhorst’s forward vision was blinded. The British cruisers saw her as a bright ‘blip’ on their radar screens, but to Scharnhorst her adversaries were no more than shadows glimpsed occasionally through the half light. Only in the little daylight that could be expected if the weather improved would Scharnhorst be able to exploit her superior fire-power. Now she could only rely on her speed to dodge around the cruisers, rather than fight a way through them, strike at the convoy, and then head back to base.

But in Duke of York, still some distance from the cruisers, Adm. Fraser had guessed what Scharnhorst would do. At 0958 he signalled to Captain McCoy, commanding convoy JW55B’s destroyer escort and thus much closer to the cruisers than Fraser, ordering: ‘Send four destroyers to join Belfast‘. For Scharnhorst had broken off her action with the cruisers and, with her greater bulk giving her about a five-knot advantage in such a sea, was heading north. The cruisers could hope to do little more than shadow her—but destroyers might get close enough to launch a torpedo attack. And once Scharnhorst was slowed down, Duke of York would be upon her for the kill.

The four destroyers sent by McCoy—Musketeer, Matchless, Opportune and Virago, commanded by Commander R. L. Fisher—joined Belfast at 1024. Adm. Burnett now took his reinforced squadron to a station some ten miles ahead of the convoy, where he hoped Scharnhorst might again be encountered. By 1044, he was forced to tell Fraser that he had completely lost contact with the German battleship. At 1103, Fraser was signalling to Burnett: ‘Unless touch can be regained, there is no chance of finding enemy’.

But in the next half-hour, a new report came from the convoy itself; the destroyer Onslaught signaled: ‘Radar contact at 62 miles’. The ensuing excitement was quashed by Belfast’s signal four minutes later: ‘Onslaught’s contact is me!’ Had Bey decided to abandon the attack? Were Scharnhorst’s radio operators chuckling as they picked up fragments of the British game of ‘hide-and-seek’, while their own ship dashed back to base?

The answer came just after noon, when Belfast reported: ‘Unidentified radar contact, 13 miles’. At 1220, Sheffield signaled: ‘Enemy in sight’. For although Bey had now received a report of an unidentified vessel, thought to be Duke of York, in the area, he had not abandoned his attack. But once again he had run slap into the cruiser screen, now strengthened by four destroyers.

A gun-duel began immediately. The British cruisers opened fire at 11,000 yards, while the destroyers attempted to edge closer in order to launch torpedoes. But visibility was somewhat improved, and so Scharnhorst was no longer ‘blind’—and her 11 in guns were manned by veterans. Within 20 minutes, Norfolk had lost her 8in after-turret and all her radar sets bar one. Seven men had been killed. Sheffield had suffered less damage, although enough to put her out of the action with engine trouble. Scharnhorst, according to official German sources, was not hit. The British destroyers, laboring in huge seas, had no chance of launching torpedoes or of doing any damage with their main armament of 4.7in guns.

It is difficult, therefore, to understand Bey’s next move. According to Fritz-Otto Busch, whose book ‘Holocaust at Sea’ claims to be based on interviews with survivors, Bey told Captain Hintze: ‘We must get out of this !’ and ordered the action to be broken off. Since hits on both Norfolk and Sheffield had been observed, together with ’straddles’ on Belfast, it has been suggested by both German and British naval historians that Bey should have fought it out—with a good chance of success.

But it must be remembered that Bey now had reason to believe that Duke of York might be approaching. On him lay the grave responsibility of preserving Germany’s most powerful active ship. He had been informed that the Luftwaffe was grounded by bad weather and, at 1418, he sent his destroyers home for the same reason. It is difficult to blame him for deciding to live to fight another day, to abandon the attack and head for Norway. Scharnhorst’s presence in Altenfjord was enough to keep powerful warships tied down to defend the Murmansk convoys. Hitler’s unfair verdict, given later, was to accuse Bey of having run away from an inferior force, saying that ‘too much thought is given to the safety of our ships, as in the case of the Graf Spee.’

With Burnett’s cruisers and destroyers dropping astern once more, Bey headed back towards Norway. He believed that he had an excellent chance of escape. So did his crew, for when Captain Hintze announced ‘We are returning to base’, he was answered by enthusiastic cheers. Had they not damaged two British cruisers without loss to themselves? Scharnhorst was a lucky ship!

But Scharnhorst’s luck had run out. Duke of York and her consorts now lay across her homeward course, and without forward radar the Germans had no way of knowing what lay ahead. The brief daylight hours were fading. Scharnhorst was now more than 400 miles inside the Arctic Circle, off Norway’s North Cape.

A burst of star-shell, turning night to bright day, came from Belfast at 1646—just ten minutes after Duke of York, ahead of Scharnhorst, had recorded radar contact at 13 miles. One of the destroyer Scorpion’s officers later recalled: ‘I could see Scharnhorst so clearly that I noticed her turrets were facing fore and aft. This showed she was not prepared for action. And what a lovely sight she was at full speed. Then, at 1650, she was almost obliterated by a wall of water from Duke of York’s first salvo . . . .’ And each of Duke of York’s 14in shells weighed 1,4001b.

As Duke of York’s first salvo scored a perfect ’straddle’, including a possible hit, Scharnhorst’s men again raced to the action stations from which they had been briefly stood down after nine hours. Even so, it was some minutes before the German battleship was able to bring her guns to bear. And while Bey ordered Hintze to turn northeast at full speed, to break the British ring, both Duke of York and Jamaica were scoring hits. Fraser had ordered the destroyers to prepare for a torpedo attack—but first Scharnhorst must be slowed down by gunfire.

It was almost certainly the 14in guns of Duke of York that crippled Scharnhorst’s forward 11 in turret and caused her other fore-turret to cease fire temporarily. Bey signalled to Schniewind: ‘In action with heavy battleship.’ Schniewind’s response was to order all U-boats in the area to concentrate ahead of the convoy (which got through unscathed) or close on Scharnhorst. There was little hope of their arrival in time. At 1724, Scharnhorst signalled: ‘Surrounded by a strong force’.

Scharnhorst still had teeth. She drew far enough away from the smaller British ships to engage Duke of York alone. The battleships exchanged broadsides at ranges of between 17,000 and 20,000 yards. Scharnhorst scored hits on both Duke of York’s masts, threatening the all-important radar installations with two 11 in shells—but both failed to explode. Duke of York’s aim was just as good—and her ammunition more effective. By 1820 she had fired 52 broadsides, of which no fewer than 31 were ’straddles’, including possible hits, and a further 16 were spotted as falling within 200 yards of the German ship. Yet Scharnhorst’s speed did not slacken: the destroyers Savage and Saumarez, on the port side, and Scorpion and Stord to starboard, could not close to deliver their torpedoes.

The German ship continued to lengthen the range. Paradoxically, this gave Duke of York a better chance of delivering a crippling blow. The closer the two ships were, the flatter the trajectory of their heavy shells—which would tend to strike the thick side-armor rather than the thinner deck-armor. As the range increased, Duke of York’s 14in armor-piercing shells fell near-vertically on to Scharnhorst’s more vulnerable decks.

The turning point came between 1830 and 1900. What actually happened is not clear. German sources speak of a torpedo hit on Scharnhorst’s boiler-room at about 1715, but this is unlikely. The British official history simply states that ‘the enemy’s guns fell silent and her speed dropped at about 1820 and in the next 20 minutes the destroyers closed to within five miles’. This seems to imply that it was Duke of York’s fire that crippled Scharnhorst.

Certain of defeat

What is certain is that by 1800 Bey knew that he had lost. Although Scharnhorst’s 5.9in guns continued to fire on the oncoming destroyers, her main armament was almost completely silent and her speed had fallen to about 10 knots. The German admiral had two alternatives left: to surrender and scuttle his ship, hoping to save the maximum number of lives—or to uphold the honor of the German Navy by fighting to the end. His choice was given in his last signal, sent direct to the German Admiralty and Hitler himself:

WE SHALL FIGHT TO THE LAST SHELL. LONG LIVE GERMANY AND THE FUEHRER. SCHARNHORST ¬ONWARDS.

At the same time, Capt. Hintze broadcast his last message to his crew: ‘I shake you all by the hand for the last time’.

Fraser ordered Duke of York and the cruisers to hold their fire as Savage and her consorts closed in on the stricken giant. But the battleship was not finished: her 5.9in fire killed or wounded 22 men aboard Saumarez and put four of her eight torpedoe-tubes out of action. The destroyers still came on, closing to inside 3,000 yards. At that range Scharnhorst loomed like a colossus, seeming to fill the whole horizon in the brilliant light of reddish-pink star-shell. A sailor on Scorpion remarked: ‘Get out wires and fenders. We’re going alongside the bastard!’

At 1849 Scorpion and Stord fired their torpedoes. Scorpion claimed one hit, Stord none; German survivors’ statements give a single hit. But magnificent work by her engineers had brought Scharnhorst’s speed up to about 22 knots. Perhaps she might still escape into the night. She changed course—only to put herself closer to Savage and Saumarez, who fired torpedoes (eight from Savage, four from Saumarez) at 3,500 and 1,800 yards respectively. Savage claimed three hits, Saumarez one. German sources speak of three in all. Scharnhorst’s speed fell again to a crawl.

The destroyers withdrew and Duke of York and Jamaica re-opened fire at about 10,000 yards, while Belfast and her consorts kept the target brilliantly lit by star-shell. With the few guns she had left, Scharnhorst made a ragged return, throwing shells into the shadows where the British gun-flashes showed her enemies to be lurking. But Scharnhorst’s men were blinded by the star-shells, choking in the fumes from their own guns and from the fires which were breaking out all along the decks. Splinters from near-misses cut down men in exposed positions, and one by one her guns fell silent. Bey ordered the torpedo-men to prepare for one last gesture of defiance. Hintze repeated the ship’s motto—’Scharnhorst immer voran’ (’Ever onwards’)—as the torpedoes leapt away, but they all missed the British ships.

Musketeer and her companion destroyers drawn from the convoy now closed for their own torpedo attack. Three more hits were made. At about 1937, Fraser ordered Jamaica to go in and ‘finish her off with torpedoes’. Three more hits. At last Scharnhorst’s crew were ordered to abandon ship. The battleship was blazing from end to end, down by the bows, with a heavy list to starboard, and rolling helplessly the raging sea. Waves were breaking right over her, snatching men from their precarious hand-holds.

The last men to go over her side saw Bey and Hintze still standing calmly on the tilting bridge. One survivor later claimed that many men had refused to leave unless Bey and Hintze would also save themselves. Hintze repeated the order to abandon. ‘I’ve got no life-jacket’, said a young rating. ‘Then have mine’, said Hintze, ‘I’m a good swimmer. I’ll come afterwards, never fear’.

Scharnhorst sank at approximately 1944 hours. She had been hit by at least 11 torpedoes out of 55 fired at her; some 13 shells from Duke of York’s 14in guns had struck, and at least 12 hits were received from the 8in, 6in and smaller guns of the cruisers and destroyers. A German survivor reported that as she rolled over and sank an officer on a raft called for ‘Three cheers for our Scharnhorst‘.

Final, triumphant signal

Fraser did not know she had gone. At 1954, after a long silence from Scharnhorst, he ordered Scorpion in for a searchlight sweep. Scorpion reported: ‘Lots of wreckage on sea, closing now’; then, at 2012, ‘Am picking up German survivors’. At 2015 Fraser signalled: ‘Please confirm Scharnhorst sunk’. Scorpion replied: ‘Survivors are from Scharnhorst‘. Yet again, at 2019, Fraser demanded confirmation of the sinking. This time it was Belfast who answered: ‘Satisfied Scharnhorst has sunk’. But not until 2100 did Fraser feel able to make a triumphant signal to the Admiralty. The Admiralty’s answer was: ‘Grand. Well done!’

Of Scharnhorst’s crew of just under 2,000 (including 40 unfortunate teenage cadets on sea-training) only 36 were rescued from the freezing, snow-swept sea. Not one officer was found: it seems probable that many of them had followed the example of Bey and Hintze and had gone down with their ship. For the pitiful remnant of Scharnhorst’s crew—’ … punch-drunk with their terrible experience’, reported one British officer—there was an unpleasant shock when they were transferred from Scorpion to Duke of York. Adm. Fraser was waiting to receive them aboard—and he bore a striking physical resemblance to Admiral Bey. Many of the rescued Germans were struck into a state of complete mental and physical collapse by this cruel irony.

Both German and British sources are unstinting in their praise of Scharnhorst’s last fight, and of the care lavished on the few survivors. But Fraser himself was to pay his enemy the greatest honor. Some days later, Duke of York passed again through the battle area. While a guard-of-honor presented arms, a large wreath was dropped into the sea.

The action off North Cape was the last great gun duel fought between battleships. It was the end of an era.

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Rocroi 1643

Date: 19 May 1643.

 

War and campaign: The Thirty Years’ War; the Campaign of 1643 in France and Belgium.

 

Object of the action: The French army was attempting to relieve the siege of Rocroi.

 

Source I see Myth of Rocroi

Opposing sides: (a) The Due d’Enghien commanding the French army, (b) Don Francisco de Melo in command of the Spanish army.

 

Forces engaged:

 

(a) French: 18 battalions; 32 squadrons; 12 guns. Total: 23,000.

 

(b) Spaniards: 20 tercios * (infantry) ; 7,000 horse; 28 guns. Total: 27,000.

 

Casualties: (a) 2,000 killed and 2,000 wounded, (b) 7,500 killed; 7,000 prisoners; 6,500 missing; 200 colours.

 

Source II

French Army

Commander: Louis II de Bourbon, Duke of Enghien

Infantry 18 battalions ~ 16,000 men

Cavalry: 32 squadrons 6,000 men

Artillery : 12 guns

 

Losses ~ 3,500 – 4,000 men

 

Army of Flanders

Commander: Francisco de Melo

Infantry ~ 15,000 men

(Spanish 20 Tercios ~ 4 500 men)

Cavalry ~ 5,000 men

Artillerie : 18 guns

 

Losses: 7,500 men (3,826 prisoners)

 

 

Result: A victory for the French presaging the eclipse of Spanish military power.

 

At the beginning of 1643 two armies faced the Spaniards along the northern frontier of France. They were the armies of Picardy and of Champagne—both of indifferent quality and poor discipline. At that time the frontier between the territory of France and that of Spain ran, roughly speaking, from Dunkirk to Metz.

 

King Louis X III confided the command of the Army of Picardy to the 21-year-old Louis de Bourbon, Due d’Enghien (later Prince de Condé), albeit with instructions to take no risks, and with the aged Maréchal de l’Hôpital to act as his mentor. D’Enghien, whose authority as a prince of the blood was increased by his real professional ability, lost no time in re-establishing discipline and sound training, a task in which he was well seconded by the fiery Gassion and the stout-hearted Sirot, both of whom had served under Gustavus Adolphus.

 

The French soldiery, if turbulent, were not lacking in ardour and responded well.

 

Meanwhile Don Francisco de Melo, the Spanish governor of the Low Countries, was menacing Rocroi, Landrecies and Arras, with a veteran, if polyglot, army, which had won three victories over the French in the last four campaigns and undoubtedly possessed the moral ascendancy.

 

Active operations began in mid-May. On the 14th the two French armies concentrated between Saint-Quentin and Guise, and learned that the Spaniards had advanced on Avesnes via Le Quesnoy. Croats were ravaging the country around Hirson and La Capelle. Pushing forward by forced marches a Spanish corps had arrived on the 13th before the little fortress of Rocroi, which was held by a French garrison no more than 400 strong—although at daybreak on the 17th a detachment of 150 men broke through to reinforce the defenders.

 

That day d’Enghien encamped at Aubenton, where he was reinforced by such troops as could be spared from his various garrisons. Even so he was outnumbered by the Spaniards, who had 27,000 men to his 23,000, and were expecting the arrival of a corps under Beck.

 

The two armies arrayed themselves on 18 May as if for battle, the Spaniards having their backs to the fortress. The two armies drew up as was the fashion of the age with the main body of infantry in the centre flanked by two wings of cavalry. The Spaniards, though more numerous than the French, occupied a shorter front; their solid infantry were massed with very small intervals between the tercios, so that their array was not unlike one huge square.

 

The two armies, drawn up about 1,000 yards apart, gazed at one another. The artillery began to play. The more numerous Spanish guns were better served than those of the French, who suffered some 300 casualties.

 

Since the Spanish line was more than 500 yards shorter than that of the French, there was an empty space opposite the latter’s left wing. Into this L’Hôpital, who wished to avoid the bloody solution of a battle, thrust La Ferté-Senneterre’s cavalry, pushing them forward to relieve Rocroi. The Spaniards could have cut off Senneterre, but contented themselves with simply repulsing him. Nothing more was done on the 18th. The two armies spent the night facing each other, the only incident being the destruction of a Spanish ambush party by part of the Regiment of Picardy.

 

Next morning D’Enghien, with considerable skill and originality, changed his tactical dispositions. He divided his right wing into two nearly equal parts, sending Gassion away to the right so that he threatened to outflank the Duke of Albuquerque’s horse. The Spaniard reacted as expected by forming front to his flank, whereupon d’Enghien with the rest of the cavalry of his right fell on d’Albuquerque’s right flank and routed him. Although the latter endeavoured with his reserves to restore the fortunes of the day, the French charged him again from two different directions and the end of an hour’s hard fighting saw d’Enghien triumphant.

 

Meanwhile upon the other wing La Ferté-Senneterre, who had learned nothing from his misfortunes of the previous day, instead of remaining at the post assigned to him, advanced against Isembourg, only to be defeated and badly wounded. The Spanish cavalry now fell upon D’Eprenan’s foot and took their cannon. L’Hôpital counter-attacked with a few squadrons of cavalry that he had managed to rally and some battalions of infantry. He succeeded in retaking the guns, but a second Spanish onslaught overran them once more and this time the Italian infantry in the Spanish service turned the French artillery against its owners. For a time the French centre, especially the Regiment of Piedmont, stood firm, but the fire of 30 guns was too much of an ordeal. The French general La Vallière lost his nerve and ordered a retreat. Fortunately for the French their reserve was intact, and the stout-hearted Sirot not only halted the withdrawal, but led forward his reserve and the remnants of the centre against the Italian tercios.

 

D’Enghien meanwhile had left Gassion with several squadrons to ensure that d’Albuquerque’s followers should play no further part in the battle. Returning to the centre with the remainder of the cavalry of his right he fell upon the third line of the Spanish centre, the German tercios, and thrust them rudely upon the Walloons who formed the second line. In a matter of minutes the whole of this infantry was broken and put to flight.

 

This brilliant action had its effect on Isembourg’s Spanish cavalry. They charged the French reserve, but it was feebly done, and Sirot, seeing d’Enghien’s white plume in the distance, pointed it out to his men, who hurled themselves upon the Spaniards with enthusiasm. Slowly and in good order the Comte de Fontaine’s surviving infantry began to fall back towards the north-east.

 

D’Enghien lost no time in rallying his tired soldiers and re-forming his battle line. Gassion was detailed to watch for Beck, who was expected to appear from the north-east at any moment.

 

As soon as their ranks had been dressed once more, the French, with small detachments of musketeers—les enfants perdus—leading the way, began to advance. Fontaine held his fire and, on his signal, a terrible salvo decimated the French. Three times they recoiled, but their musketeers were taking a toll, and Fontaine himself was struck down.

 

D’Enghien, with a tactical skill uncommon in his day, massed his cannon against an angle of the Spanish square, and was bringing up his squadrons, when some Spanish officers were seen waving their hats. D’Enghien, riding forward to receive their surrender, was welcomed by a volley which he was fortunate to survive. The angry French then fell on with furious impetus, and the battle was won. Before 10 o’clock all was over; the flower of the veteran Spanish infantry was no more. It was only then that Beck arrived within 5 miles of the field.

 

Rocroi was a brilliant opening to the reign of King Louis XIV who had succeeded his father on 14 May. For 100 years the tercios had made Spain the leading military power. Now it was France’s turn. The century that lay ahead was to see many glorious victories won by such men as Turenne, Luxembourg, Villars and Maurice de Saxe. Not least among that talented company was Louis de Bourbon, le Grand Condé.

 

SPECIAL NOTE:

 

Rocroi a myth?

 

 

This question coming from a Frenchman like me could be considered as a treachery? Like many others, when I wrote the description of the battle of Rocroi for this site, (see Link) I used mostly French sources like T. Renaudot in the number 651 of la Gazette2, A. Corvisier3, the Duke of Aumale, the map of the Seigneur de Beaulieu4 and so on…. Recently, in 2002, I began to look for Spanish sources to have a more accurate definition of the Spanish order of battle. In his book, edited in 1888, F. Barado5 gives the names of the main Spanish units. I also found the books of Albi de la Ceusta6 and J.F. Ragel7 and the articles published by J. L. Sánchez8 in the review Researching and Dragona. In summary Spanish historians have used archives from the royal library of Simancas and from the royal library of Brussels and they discovered that the French description of the battle could have been modified by the French government of that time (Cardinal Mazarin and the queen Anne of Austria) with the complicity of the marquis de la Moussaye.

 

This hypothesis is supported by Spanish sources like the memories of the Duke of Alburquerque, Juan Antonio Vincart (quartermaster from the governor of the province of Flanders) and numerous small documents from the paymaster of the army of Flanders. Also we can find some diverging French sources like the memories of Sirot9 or the comments of the Marquis de Montglas10.

 

So what happened in Rocroi? The main divergences from the normal description are found in the progress of the battle, the fade of the last Spanish squadron and the Spanish losses. In due time (in 2004) the new description of the battle will be uploaded. For the moment we can discuss on the fate of the last squadron and the losses.

 

After few hours off battle the Spanish Tercios remained alone on the battlefield. The French concentrated their attack on the 6 Spanish battalions destroying the first three (Castelvi, Villalba and Veladia-Guzman). The remaining battalions were regrouped to form two strong squadrons (Garciez and Alburquerque), incorporating some survivors of the others battalions. The French launched several attacks on the Spanish but they were repulsed every time with losses. At that moment the future prince of Condé was anxious, he could not destroy the resistance of the Spanish squadrons, scouts reported that the Spanish reinforcement were coming and he decided to pact the capitulation of the Spanish. After short negotiation the Spanish squadron of Garciez capitulated keeping theirs flags and weapons and with the promise of being sent in Spain, later the second squadron of Alburquerque capitulated with less favourable term. In July 1643 some 2 000 Spanish from the squadron of Garciez arrived at Fuenterrabia in Spain.

 

Spanish losses were estimated, by J.L. Sánchez at some 7 500 men11 including 599 officers and 3.227 soldiers prisoners. In that number we include the men, which capitulated at Rocroi.

It seems that Rocroi was a small and costly French victory, which was exploited by the French government to reduce the political tension in France after the death of Louis XIII12 (1601 – 1643) and Richelieu (1585 – 1642). From the military point of view we can add that the efficiency of the Army of Flanders was reduced with the “loss” of some 3 500 native Spanish13 for this front.

 

Pierre PICOUET Gerona (Spain) 15th December of 2003

 

1 T. Renaudot using the account from the marquis De la Moussaye wrote the official version of the battle of Rocroi.

2 La gazette was the official journal created in 1631 by Théophraste Renaudot

3 A. Corvisier: Histoire Militaire de La France: Tome 1 Des Origines à 1715, Quadrige/PUF, Paris 1992

4 Copy of the maop of Beaulieu in Theatrum Europaeum Band 5 doc 78 (www.bibliothek.uni-augsburg.de/digbib/index.html).

5 F. Barado: Museo militar. Historia del ejército español, armas, uniformes, ………….., Barcelona 1886.

6 J. Albi de la Cuesta: De Pavía a Rocroi, Los Tercios de infantería española, Balkan editors, Madrid 1999.

7 L.F. Ragel: El sombrero de Rocroi, Edition CALAMO Producciones, 208 pages, Madrid 2001.

8 J.L. Sanchez Researching y Dragona Vol VII nº16, 2002 et Vol VIII nº21, 2003 (www.researchingdragona.org).

9 See memories of Baron de Sirot published in the book of Victor Coussin, La jeunesse de Mme de Longueville Tome 1 p559 it can be find on server Gallica.

10 Memories of François de Paule de Clermont, Marquis de Montglas. Unlike Sirot, he did not participate directly to the battle but his regiment (Navarre) yes.

11 We are fare away from the 14 000 – 15 000 men given by several authors

12 The 14 of may 1643, 5 days before Rocroi

13 On the 2500 soldier in Fuenterrabia, a lot of them deserted to their villages, but in 1644 you can find several hundred veterans from Flanders in the Spanish army besieging the city of Lérida in Catalonia.

 

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