Nelson's Blood: Attitudes and Actions of the Royal Navy 1939-45

Author(s): E. F. Gueritz
Source: Journal of Contemporary History, Vol. 16, No. 3, The Second World War: Part 2
(Jul., 1981), pp. 487-499
Published by: Sage Publications, Ltd.
Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/260316 .
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Rear-Admiral E.F. Gueritz
Nelson's Blood: Attitudes and Actions
of the
Royal Navy
1939-45
On 1
August
1970 the issue of a free ration of
rum, commonly
call-
ed Nelson's
Blood,
to
ratings
in the
Royal Navy
was
discontinued,
and a custom which had
originated
soon after the
capture
of
Jamaica in 1655 came to an end. Lord Nelson was no more
associated with rum than
any
of his
contemporaries,
and the
grisly
association with the
preservation
of his
body
is based on a
misunderstanding.'
The
significance
of the nickname lies in the ac-
ceptance
of Nelson as the embodiment of all the
Royal Navy's
traditions whether
they originated
with him or not. It is
ironical,
therefore,
that some of Nelson's most
important
contributions to
naval warfare became overlaid in the
Royal Navy by
a
heavy layer
of Victorian
orthodoxy
and social
prejudice,
to the detriment of
British naval
operations
in the first world war. Some old sailors
used to
say:
'If 'e knew what was done in 'is name 'e'd be down off
'is
pedestal
to sort 'em out.' The
purpose
of this article is to review
how attitudes had
developed by
the outbreak of the second world
war,
and to examine
very briefly
some
examples
of how actions
may
have been affected.
It seems remarkable that a nation with a
strong
maritime tradi-
tion should
produce generations
of naval officers addicted to an
orthodoxy quite
at variance with the character and
practice
of the
great
hero whose
memory they
venerated. It was for
change
in this
attitude that Vice-Admiral Sir
George Tryon strove,
and
literally
died in
vain,
towards the end of the nineteenth
century.
He had
/JoIrnal
of
('ontemporarv
listorv
(SAG(E,
I ondon and
Beverly Hills),
Vol. 16
(1981),
487-99
Journal
of Contemporary History
recognized
the baleful influence of
orthodoxy
and blind
obedience,
and
sought
to make his subordinates think for themselves.2 The
performance
of the British fleets in the North Sea in the first world
war bore
distressing testimony
to the wisdom of his
appreciation.
The
courage
and
seamanship
of the officers of those fleets are not
in
question,
nor is the
respect
which
they
had for their
Commander-in-Chief. It was this virtue which became the vice
when it seemed to be
accepted
that the Admiral was
omniscient,
and that it would be
presumptuous
to
give
him information.
Failures at Jutland were not confined to unwarrantable silence.
There were also cases in which the Nelsonian
injunction
was
ig-
nored that '. . . no
Captain
can do
very wrong
if he
lays
his
ship
alongside
that of an
enemy'.
There was no lack of
courage
but
there was a
great
lack of
initiative,
and
consequently orthodoxy
triumphed
over
opportunity.
The contrast in the second world war was most marked.
By
a for-
tunate
chance,
certain men of
genius
had
wrought
a
great change.
One
can, perhaps,
date this
phenomenon
from the
departure
of
Admiral Sir
Roger Keyes
from the
Mediterranean,
and attribute its
development
to the influence of Admiral Sir Ernle Chatfield
(later
Admiral of the Fleet Lord
Chatfield)
and Admiral Sir William
Fisher3 who became his successors as Commander-in-Chief. Cer-
tainly
the restrictive effects of voluminous Fleet Orders and tactical
instructions were
quickly dispelled, training
was made more
realistic,
and a
proper emphasis
was laid on
training
for
night
fighting.4 Among
the subordinate
Flag
Officers was Rear-Admiral
A.B.
Cunningham,
who held the
appointment
of Rear-Admiral
Destroyers,
and himself made his name as a
great
wartime
commander-in-chief in the Mediterranean. With his enormous ex-
perience
of
destroyers
(he
commanded HMS
Scorpion
for seven
years, 1910-18)
and the
high
standards which he
expected,
the
destroyer
flotillas of the Mediterranean must have been a fine
school for
initiative, quick-thinking
and team work. There is no
doubt that
by
1939 there were a number of
very experienced
com-
manding
officers and first lieutenants in
destroyers.
This was
just
as
well,
as it was
upon
them that fell the tremendous burdens of the
first
years
of the war. There was a
heavy
toll
among
the less ex-
perienced
and
robust,
as was evident in the RN
hospitals
of the
time.
Destroyer
officers tended to be an exclusive
professional
group, contemptuous
of their brothers in
big ships
and condescen-
ding,
to
put
it
politely,
to newcomers to the 'boats'.5 Commander
488
Gueritz: Nelson's Blood
Lord Louis Mountbatten was not
fully accepted,
and his
invention,
the Mountbatten Station
Keeping Gear,
was scorned
by many
'old'
destroyer captains.
Coincidentally,
or so it
seems,
the resurrected
spirit
of the Nelso-
nian 'band of brothers' not
only brought
initiative and
enterprise
back into naval
operations,
but also a new
sensibility
in the handl-
ing
of
men,
as was
exemplified
in the doctrine and
practice
pioneered by
Commander Rorie O'Conor.
By
the outbreak of
war,
for
example,
the attitude
adopted
towards
midshipmen
had
chang-
ed
considerably. They
were treated as
young
officers rather than as
fugitives
from a
preparatory school,
and the
gunrooms
in which
they
lived ceased to be run as
though
Doctor Arnold had never
lived!6 There
may
have been
exceptions,
but these tended to be in
battleships
where older ideas died hard. The
change
in attitude
may
have been due in some measure to the influence of the
Special Entry
scheme.
Midshipmen
trained under this scheme were older when
they
went to sea and had a wider educational
background.7
One
lesson of the
age
of
enlightenment
in the 1930s was the
emphasis
placed
on
enemy reporting:
the
overriding duty
of
reporting
the
enemy,
his
strength
and his movements.
There
were, however, aspects
of the
Royal Navy's
character
which had
escaped
reform. The attitude to non-executive
officers,
Engineers
and
Paymasters,
was
considerably improved.
The dif-
ference in their uniforms was now
only
that of the distinctive
pur-
ple
and white cloth between the
gold
rank
stripes
on the arms or
shoulder
straps. Nevertheless,
the Seaman Branch retained its
privileged position
and certain
prerogatives
which caused
ill-feeling
until
major
reforms were enacted in 1955.
Regrettably,
this social
prejudice
extended to the Reserves. Officers and
ratings
who
joined
the
Royal
Naval Reserve
(RNR)
while
serving
in the Merchant
Navy
served for short
periods
of
training
in HM
ships.
On at least
two
occasions, groups
of officers were
accepted
for transfer from
the RNR to the RN. It would be
gratifying
to
say
that the
public
spirit
of the Reserves and the welcome accession of
strength
represented by
the transfers were
recognized by
officers in the fleet.
The
politest
term which can be used about the usual attitude is
'patronizing'.
Yet Merchant
Navy
officers had more
practical
sea
experience by
the nature of their
profession
than RN officers whose
sea-time was restricted
by
fuel economies.
(Shades
of
1980-81.)
Moreover,
the attitude betokened a failure to
appreciate
that one of
the main raisons d'etre of a
navy
is the care of its merchant fleet.
489
Journal
of Contemporary History
Lack of
understanding
of the virtues and the difficulties of the men
who manned the British merchant fleet was inexcusable after the
hard-won lessons of the first Atlantic war. Some
progress
was
made
by way
of official
training
in Naval Control of
Shipping just
before the war: the
Admiralty organization
for such control was in-
comparably
better than it had been in 1914 or even 1916. The
underlying
cause of inattention to the Merchant
Navy
was the
failure to
appreciate
that fleet action was a means to an
end,
and
not an end in itself. Anti-submarine warfare
training
was far more
a matter of fleet
protection
than of
convoy
escort work.
The work of
Chatfield, Fisher, Cunningham
and others bore
fruit in the first hard
years
of the second world war.
Single ships
or
squadrons flung
themselves at the
enemy
with little
regard
for the
prospect
of success but with
complete certainty
about the
path
of
duty.
There are
examples
in
plenty:
the Battle of the River Plate in
December
1939,
the forlorn
hopes
of
destroyers
such as Gloworm
and Acasta in the
Norwegian campaign,
the sacrificial action of the
armed merchant-cruiser Jervis
Bay
which saved
Convoy
HX 84.
Or,
one can add the actions
against
the
battleship
Bismarck in June
1941
(not
least the excellent
reporting by
HM
ships Norfolk
and
Suffolk)
and the classic defence of
Convoy
JW 51 B
by
a handful of
destroyers
and smaller
escorts, pitted against
a battle-cruiser and a
heavy
cruiser in December 1942.
Any appearance
of reluctance to
engage brought censure, just
or
unjust.
A shadow fell across the
good
name of HMS
Newcastle,
a Town Class
cruiser,
next on the
patrol
line in Northern
Waters,
when the armed merchant-cruiser
Rawalpindi
was sunk
by
the battle-cruisers Scharnhorst and
Gneisnau in the autumn of 1939. A
high-powered
Board of
Inquiry
sat in Gibraltar in December
1940,
under the
presidency
of Admiral
of the Fleet the Earl of Cork and
Orrery,
to examine the conduct of
Vice-Admiral Sir James Somerville in his action with Italian forces
off
Cape Spartivento,
Sardinia. The treatment of Admiral Sir
Dudley North,
as
Flag
Officer
Gibraltar,
when a French
squadron
passed
unmolested
through
the
straits,
remains a blot on the Ad-
miralty's
record.s The execution of an Admiral
'pour encourager
les autres'
may
be
desirable,
sometimes
essential,
even if the execu-
tion
has,
in modern
times,
been
metaphorical
rather than literal.
Nothing
but harm is
likely
to result from an evident
injustice
to a
subordinate in order to cloak the
shortcomings
of a
superior.9
It
has been
suggested
that the First Sea Lord should have done more
to restrain the Prime Minister from
interfering
in the
operational
490
Gueritz: Nelson's Blood
conduct of the fleet. Men such as Admirals
Cunningham
and
Somerville needed no
urging
to use their
ships effectively.
It is
recorded that Admiral
Cunningham
'could
hardly forgive
him
[Churchill]
for some of the
insulting telegrams
he received from
time to time'.10
Captain Stephen Roskill,
with his close
personal
knowledge
of Admiral
Pound,
has examined this
question
in the
book
already quoted,"
and it has been an area of
dispute
between
him and that other eminent
scholar,
the late Professor Arthur
Marder. Great attention has been
paid by well-qualified
observers
and authoritative writers to the
question
of Admiral Pound's
health12 and
opinions
differ about its
significance.
Discussion often
centres
upon
the
Admiralty's
actions
during
the
passage
of the
Convoy PQ
17 to Russia. It is not intended to rehearse the
sequence
of events or
argue
once
again
the
rights
and
wrongs
of the First Sea
Lord's decision to scatter the
convoy except
in one
respect.
Con-
voys
in the Mediterranean were escorted
by heavy ships
and were
subjected
to attack
by
surface
forces,
as well as
by
aircraft and sub-
marines.
They
were
fought through
at
great cost,
and the same can
be said of the Arctic
convoys
with the added comment that the
weather
frequently
was
appalling.
In the Arctic
deployments, heavy
surface escorts were stationed in close or distant
covering positions.
In the case of
Convoy PQ 17,
a
particular
threat was
posed by
the
German
battleship Tirpitz.
It seems
strange that,
instead of
seeking
to
bring
that
enemy
to action with our own
heavy forces,
the Ad-
miralty's
actions were
diametrically
the
opposite.
If it were decided
to avoid risks of air attack on surface forces
by limiting
their move-
ment to the
east,
this would be
understandable,
if
contrary
to the
best traditions of
eliminating
the surface threat in battle. In
any
case,
the order to scatter seems
wholly inappropriate.
Such an
order was
surely
intended for use in the broad oceans
against
an im-
mediate surface
threat,
and not in an area where air and submarine
threats were
equally
real and
dangerous
to unescorted merchant
ships.
To withdraw all
protection
seems
incomprehensible, par-
ticularly
as this was the action of a distant command
headquarters
bypassing
three levels of command: the
Commander-in-Chief,
Home
Fleet,
the Cruiser Force
Commander,
and the Escort Force
Commander. What these men needed was the best
possible
infor-
mation and the freedom to
respond
to the circumstances with
which
they
were
confronted,
not in an
office,
but on the
bridge.
The Board Room in the
Admiralty building
has a weather
gauge,
a
relic of the
eighteenth century.
Its sole
purpose
was to remind those
491
Journal
of Contemporary History
sitting
at the table that it was on 'storm-tossed
ships'
that success
or failure would
depend.
The disastrous material
consequences
of
the order to scatter are recorded. The losses which
might
have been
inflicted
by
the
Tirpitz
could have been as
bad, although
other ex-
perience
does not
support
such a
proposition.
What is
unquestion-
ed is the moral
impact
of the withdrawal of the escort forces.
Perhaps
the wounds have healed
by now,
but the
damage
done to
relations between the
Royal Navy
and the men of its merchant
fleet,
and between the
Royal Navy
and the United States
Navy,
was
deep
and
lasting.
The
accepted
standard was voiced
by
Admiral
Cunningham
in his famous affirmation: 'It takes three
years
to
build a
ship
but three hundred to build a tradition'. This was his
view
during
the
days
of the evacuation from
Greece,
the defence of
Crete,
and
finally
the evacuation of
Imperial
forces from the island
in the
spring
of 1941. He declared: 'Whatever the
risks,
whatever
our
losses,
the
remaining ships
of the fleet would make an all-out
effort to
bring away
the
army',
and 'We cannot let the
army
down'.'3 Stories of that
period
can be a source of
pride
for officers
and men of the
Royal Navy following,
as
they do, upon
the
catalogue
of similar
experience
in the
Norwegian campaign,
at
Dunkirk and elsewhere in France. The attitude which
they
fostered
was
again patronizing,
that of a
competent
and
self-righteous
elder
brother towards his
junior
who was
frequently
in some sort of
scrape,
and had to be
picked up,
dusted down with
generous
affec-
tion and sent on his
way. They
held a
sneaking regard
for the
soldiers'
courage
and endurance
coupled
with tolerance for his un-
familiarity
with
shipboard
life,
and readiness to share such com-
forts as there were. As one
period ended,
so another was well under
way.
Only
the British would set
up
an
Expeditionary
Force Head-
quarters immediately
after the
precipitate
withdrawal from a
disastrous continental venture. This
headquarters
was established
at
Largs
on the west coast of Scotland. Commando units were rais-
ed,
and
amphibious training
started not
only
for commandos,
but
also for selected formations of the
army proper.
It has been said
that it was
possible
to
identify
units which had been trained in am-
phibious operations by
the fact that their officers and men had lost
their child-like faith in the
Royal Navy!
The cause of this loss
of
faith was the natural
consequence
of
familiarity
with
ships,
boats
and their
watery
environment,
and also the effect of the realization
that even sailors sometimes make mistakes! The most
ordinary
492
Gueritz: Nelson's Blood
mistakes were those of
navigation.
The aids to
navigation
in small
craft were
primitive
and were not
helped by
the close
proximity
to
compasses
of steel helmets and other metal
objects.
The crews with
whom the soldiers trained were themselves under
training.
The
system by
which the officers and men were channelled into Com-
bined
Operations
reflected another unreformed attitude of the
pre-
war
navy.
This
was,
once
more,
a failure to
appreciate
the true role
of a
navy.
Viscount
Grey
of Fallodon remarked that the
army
is a
projectile
to be fired
by
the
navy.'4
It
seems, however,
that the
Royal Navy,
at
least, neglected
to
carry
out battle
practice
with that
particular weapon stystem!
Naval vessels
frequently
acted as
troop transports
in
emergency:
the
County
Class cruisers were built with room for a battalion to be
carried for short
periods.'5 However,
little
money
was laid out for
the
development,
let alone the
production,
of the
specialized
vessels
needed for modern
landing operations.
It has been said that the
capture
of
Diego
Suarez in
Madagascar
in
May
1942 was the first
successful British Combined
Operation
since
Quebec
in 1759. This
is
probably unfair,
but in most
respects
the
provisions
for
landing
operations
in 1940 were little better than those available at Aboukir
Bay
in 1801. Power boats had
replaced
some
ship's
oared
boats,
but
many
of the boats were less suitable for the
purpose
than those
available to
Abercromby's
men. Even the
Royal
Marines
gave
visi-
ble evidence of the low
priority
which was accorded to their
per
ter-
ram task. The smartness with which the
Royal
Marines could adorn
a ceremonial
occasion,
with blue
uniform,
white helmets and
pipe-
clayed belts,
was in
strange
contrast to their
appearance
when land-
ing
for field exercises. For these their khaki
uniform, obviously
dragged
from the bottom of
kitbags,
would
hardly
have done credit
to their forebears in the trenches on the Somme some
twenty years
before. Nor were the
Royal
Marines
given
their natural
place
as the
first units of the new
Special
Service
group. Army
Commandos
were
formed,
while
Royal
Marine battalions remained
brigaded
as
infantry
until 1942.
Thereafter, Royal
Marines Commandos were
formed,
and the balance of the men available manned
landing
craft
flotillas and
special support landing
units. Thus the
Royal
Marines
joined, very properly,
the
Royal Navy's
effort to
project power
ashore.
The
manning
of the naval
components
of Combined
Operations
can be summarized as follows. Some enthusiastic and
experienced
yachtsmen, pre-war
members of the
Royal
Naval Volunteer
493
Journal
of Contemporary History
Reserve
(RNVR),
formed the cadre which
provided leadership
and
skill. The bulk of the officers were
appointed (selected
would be
too
strong
a
word)
from the mass
production
line of the
training
establishment,
HMS
King Alfred. Ratings
were drafted from New
Entry
establishments and from the Patrol
Service,
which was based
on the
peacetime fishing
fleet. The senior element was
generally
found from retired officers who were recalled to service and were
found
employment
in the mushroom
growth
of
landing
craft bases.
The
organization quickly passed
from the hands of a senior
Royal
Marines
officer,
General Sir Alan
Bourne,
into those of Admiral of
the Fleet Sir
Roger Keyes.
It was not a
happy arrangement.
The
navy
was not
disposed
to look with
great
favour
upon
the eccentric
activities of what
promised
to be a most
irregular,
if not
piratical,
crew. Admiral
Keyes
was not the
person
to oil wheels or to smooth
ruffled
feathers,
and some of his
appointees
were worlds
apart
from the modern
navy,
let alone from its brand-new
striking
force.
Some officers from the General Service of the
Royal Navy
volunteered for
Special Service,
and were
appointed
to Combined
Operations. Many
of these
appointments
were of
comparatively
short duration. The
Royal Navy's appointing system
rolled on its
accustomed
way, presuming
with
complete
confidence that the war
was
only
a break in the ordered
pattern
of the
Royal Navy's
life.
Career
planning
must continue without
thought
of the
possibility
that it
might
be as well to hatch defeat of the Axis before
counting
the chickens of
post-war appointments
and
promotions.
It is
hardly
credible that an
experienced
senior
beachmaster, recovering
from
wounds received ashore in
Normandy,
was told: 'to
stop fooling
around with this Combined
Operations
business and
get
down to
some
regular sailoring'.'6
At that
time,
the Walcheren
operation
had not
yet
taken
place,
and
peace
in
Europe
was
eight
months
away.
The war
against Japan
was at its
height
with
amphibious
operations pending
in South East Asia and
continuing
in the
Pacific. In
spite
of
this,
career
planning
took
precedence
over the
use of
knowledge
and
experience.
This same
spirit
motivated the
Royal Navy's approach
to
temporary promotions
and the award of
acting
rank. Such benefits were dealt out
lavishly among
the ranks
of RNVR
officers,
whose
temporarily
inflated status would not
complicate
the reversion to
peacetime promotion patterns.
This
unruffled confidence in ultimate
victory
was not an
affectation,
but
sprang
from an inborn sense of
invincibility.
Disasters there
might
be, setbacks, reverses,
critical
struggles
for existence
but,
in the
494
Gueritz: Nelson's Blood
end,
the
Empire
and its navies would
emerge triumphant.
The same
spirit
was
perceptible
in
operation
orders which sent
ships
into
night
action
against superior
forces
concluding
with the
injunction
that
'ships
are to return to harbour at 0900'.
However such confidence
may
be
described,
whether as
op-
timism, arrogance
or steadfast
faith,
it had its
price-tag.
There is
the
difficulty
of
encompassing
the
possibility
of innovation. As
Field Marshal
Kesselring
remarked in his memoirs: 'Since then I
have often observed this instinctive
rejection
of an innovation that
has not broken down
prejudice.
It is remarkable how
strongly
the
vis inertiae is able to exert influence on the best
intelligence."7
Be-
tween the wars the
impact
of air
power
on naval
strategy
and tactics
had
yet
to be
appreciated fully
in the
Royal Navy.
It is true that the
pusillanimous
attitude
adopted
towards
Italy
in 1935 stemmed
partly
from assessments of the
vulnerability
to air attack of the
British Mediterranean Fleet.
However,
it seems that more
energy
and verbal ammunition was
expended
in Whitehall warfare be-
tween the
navy
and the
Royal
Air Force than ever went into the
provision
of effective air defence of the
fleet, although
Admiral
Fisher declared in 1936 that
great
strides had been made.
Chatfield,
by
then First Sea
Lord,
stated that:
'My personal
view trends
strongly
in the direction that attack of
ships
at sea
by
aircraft will
be unremunerative in a few
years."' Although
the battle for the
control of the Fleet Air Arm involved so much bloodshed in
Whitehall,
that arm of the service with its carriers had not achieved
its
rightful
eminence in the
Royal Navy's thinking.
The
big gun
and
the
battleship
still held
sway,
but the
distinguished
naval
writer,
Commander Russell
Grenfell,
ventured to
suggest
in 1937: 'When
certain
warships
had become so
large
and
expensive
that there is an
inevitable
tendency
to
keep
them in cotton
wool,
and when increas-
ing
numbers of other
warships
have to be devoted to their
protec-
tion there
are, perhaps, grounds
for
thinking
that these
particular
vessels have
outgrown
their usefulness.'" At about the same
time,
Admiral Yamamoto in
Japan
was recorded as
saying:
These
ships
are like elaborate
religious
scrolls which old
people hang up
in their
homes.. .. Military
people always carry
history around with them in the
shape
of old
campaigns. They carry
obsolete
weapons
like swords and it is a
long
time
before
they
have become
purely
ornamental. These
battleships
will be as useful
in modern warfare as a Samurai ssword.2"
Both in
Japan
and in the United
States,
the
power
of the aircraft
495
Journal
of Contemporary History
carrier was
appreciated
to
greater
effect than in
Britain, notably
in
the
provision
of
up-to-date
aircraft for the embarked
squadrons.
The lack of direct naval
responsibility
for
procurement
is blamed
for the
poor equipment
of the Fleet Air
Arm,
but what sacrifices
did the
Royal Navy
offer to make in those
days
of
penurious
budgets
for defence?
Later,
there was a lack of industrial resources
to meet all rearmament
needs,
and time was
running
out
by
the
time the
navy regained
full control of the Fleet Air Arm in 1937.
Nor was the
personnel problem straightforward. By
transfers from
the
Royal
Air
Force, promotions
from the lower deck and the use
of
rating pilots,
some
progress
was made in
building up
resources.
A
bigger step
was the introduction of the Air Branch
Entry by
which officers were recruited
expressly
for
flying
duties.
They
were
distinguished by
the addition of the letter A in the surl of their rank
stripes,
and were restricted in the duties
expected
of them.
Resources were increased
by
the creation of an Air Branch in the
RNVR.
Two threads are
distinguishable
in the
Royal Navy's
attitudes
towards the new influence on naval warfare. The first is the reluc-
tance to
recognize
that the
battleship
was
being supplanted
as the
core of a modern fleet
by
the aircraft carrier. This led to some
mishandling
of the available carriers and the
consequent
un-
necessary
and
tragic
losses. For
example,
the
sinking
of HMS
Courageous
was the result of her
misemployment
in anti-submarine
operations.
HMS Glorious was detached from the forces
operating
off
Norway
in 1940 to return to
Scapa
Flow in readiness for a
court-martial. This was a
deplorable
reason for
depriving
the Allied
forces of her
services,
and for
imperilling
a most valuable fleet unit.
She was sunk
by
the battle-cruisers Scharnhorst and Gneisnau
while on
passage.2'
The
employment
of a balanced force with a full
range
of air and
surface elements came to be
accepted
in
1940,
almost unconscious-
ly,
with the
operations
of Force H based on Gibraltar. This
force,
presumably inheriting
its
designation
from one of the lettered hun-
ting groups
of the 1939
period,
was an
exemplar
of the well-
practised co-operative
action which became
commonplace
in
carrier task
groups
in the Pacific war and thereafter. It is in-
teresting
to reflect on the fact that the commander of this successful
pioneering venture,
Vice-Admiral Sir James
Somerville, had,
in
fact,
been invalided from the service before the war. He
might
well
have adhered to conservative
opinions,
but he
was,
on the
contrary,
496
Gueritz: Nelson's Blood
a most
lively personality
with a
great gift
of
leadership.
This stood
him in
good
stead when he
personally dragged
the men of the
Eastern Fleet out of a
slough
of low morale in the summer of 1942.
The
gift
of
appeal
to all ranks and
specializations
was a
key
factor
in a
navy
whose main
striking power
was
increasingly dependent
upon
the skill and
courage
of
young men, many
of whom had no
real naval
background.
The carrier aircrews were irked
by
tradi-
tional routines and
ceremonial, disciplined
in their own
profession,
but
unimpressed by
the
rigid
attitudes and conventions of the 'Fish-
heads'
(seamen officers)
who ran their
floating
airfields. Needless
to
say,
the Fish-heads were scandalized
by
the
demoralizing
behaviour of some of the aircrew in the
squadrons
which embark-
ed. To an
extent, specializations
and
sub-specializations
within a
service need their
special ethos,
some
feeling
of elitist
separation.
This must
apply particularly
to airmen and
submariners,
who need
an extra element of
self-discipline
and
professional responsibility.
The dilution in the aircrew ranks increased
inevitably
with
heavy
casualties and
great expansion
of the air arm. With the
dilution,
the
separation
between the 'establishment' of the
regular navy
and its
wartime reinforcements increased.
Long-service
officers and
ratings
were called 'the caretakers'
by
their
'hostilities-only' ship-
mates,
and this term was not confined to
any particular
branch of
the service. The second thread in the
Royal Navy's
attitudes
related, therefore,
to the
difficulty
of
moulding
the
strength
of
tradition and
customary discipline
with the vital force of en-
thusiasm and new
skills,
the delicate balance between
stifling
orthodoxy
and ineffective amateurism. Problems
could,
and
did,
occur in
any ship
or
force,
but in
carriers, living
conditions
brought
everyone
into close
propinquity and,
at the same
time,
the
flying
task set the aircrew
apart
from their messmates. With
good
leader-
ship
at
many
levels a fine
rapport
could be achieved. The results of
carrier
co-operation
were a source of
pride
and
self-perpetuating
ef-
ficiency
of
operations.
In
landing
craft bases and assault
forces,
great
care had to be exercised.
Living
and
working
conditions were
often
rough
and
ready,
basic
training
had been
sketchy,
and the
leavening
of RN officers and
ratings
was
lightly sprinkled.
For the
Normandy
invasion a
larger
framework of
organization
was
ap-
plied
to direct the
training,
to oversee and execute
administration,
and to fit
squadrons
and flotillas into the
great pattern
of the
assault and
build-up.
These
squadrons
and flotillas were a vital
weapon
in the
armoury
of Allied sea
power.
Their crews and the
497
Journal
of Contemporary History
associated beach
parties
were
very largely
RNVR and hostilities-
only
officers and
ratings.
It would have been
easy
for them to have
degenerated
into an
ill-kempt
and
incompetent
rabble without
sym-
pathetic support
and
guidance
from those with more
experience
and
training.
Lord Nelson would have
delighted
in the offensive action which
landing
craft crews achieved. He would have revelled in the dash
and
courage
of Fleet Air Arm crews and would
certainly
have en-
joyed
their
respect.
His
humanity
would have
recognized
and en-
couraged
the enthusiasm of reservists of all kinds. He would have
commended the
fighting spirit
of
Cunningham
and the sacrifice
made
by
his band of brothers off Greece and Crete. He would have
turned a deaf ear to the interference of the
Admiralty.
He
might
not have seen
plainly
that the defence of
shipping
and the
projec-
tion of
power
ashore are
truly
naval
roles,
not distractions from the
pursuit
of the fleet action. As to how he himself
might
have
per-
formed as a Whitehall
warrior,
Lord Nelson's encounter with the
Duke of
Wellington
in Whitehall one month before the Battle of
Trafalgar
was
hardly promising!
Notes
1. Nelson's
body
was
transported
to
England
after
Trafalgar
in a cask of
brandy
(not rum).
2. Richard
Hough,
Admirals in Collision
(l1ondon 1959).
3. Admiral Fisher died
suddenly
in 1937 while
serving
as Commander-in-(hief
Portsmouth.
4. Rear-Admiral
Royer Dick,
who was Chief of Staff to Sir Andrew Cun-
ningham,
has told the writer that at the Battle of
Matapan
he remarked that Chat-
field's
emphasis
on
night fighting
was
being
rewarded.
5. The word 'boat' was
formerly
used
colloquially
to describe
passenger ships,
thus: 'P&O boat'. It was a solecism to
apply
the term to
warships but, confusingly,
jargon
in the
Royal Navy
used 'boats' for submarines and
collectively
for
destroyers,
thus 'I served in the Boats
up
the Straits
(of Gibraltar)'.
6.
Captain
O'Conor was killed while
commanding
HMS
Neptune
in 1941. His
main
published
work was
Running
a
Ship
on Ten
Coniiiiandmnents.
7.
Special Entry
cadets
joined
from their
secondary
schools
by competitive
ex-
amination from 171/2-18
years
of
age.
8. Those two
regrettable
affairs are
magisterially
examined
by Captain
Roskill
in Churchill and the Admirals (London 1977), chapter II.
498
Gueritz: Nelson's Blood
9. The
quotation originated
from Voltaire's Candide and relates to the execu-
tion of Admiral The Hon. Sir John
Byng
in 1757.
10.
Captain
S.W.C.
Pack, RN, Cunningham (Iondon 1974),
126.
11.
Roskill, op.
cit.,
Appendix.
12. For
example,
Dr
Hugh L'Etang,
The
Pathology of Leadership
and Fit to
Lead?
13.
Pack, op. cit.,
177.
14. Viscount
Grey
of
Fallodon,
Fisher Memoirs.
15. The writer travelled in a
County
Class cruiser
carrying
500 survivors and 200
prisoners
in addition to her
complement.
16. Words
spoken
to the writer in
September
1944.
17.
Kesse!ring,
Memoirs
(Iondon 1953),
17.
18. (.
Till,
Air Power and the
Royal Navy
(London 1979),
152.
19. Russell
Grenfell,
The Art
of
the
Admiral,
244.
20. John Deane
Potter,
Admiral
of
the
Pacific
-
The
Life of
Yalmamoto
(Ion-
don
1965),
30.
21.
Till, op. cit.,
176.
Rear-Admiral Gueritz
is Director and Editor-in-Chief of the
Royal
United Services Institute for Defence Studies.
He is also President of the
Society
for Nautical
Research and sets naval
questions
for the tele-
vision
series,
Mastermind.
499