London Dawn (57 page)

Edward was once more on his back, staring up into the dark.

If we sink the
Bismarck
she will no longer be a widow maker. No longer the maker of orphans or the fatherless. If we sink the
Bismarck
she can no longer wreak havoc and kill. That is more justice than it is revenge.

Sleep began to overwhelm him.

A sailor knocked on his door. “A message from the commodore, sir.”

Edward took the note and switched on his light while the able seaman waited for a response.

NEW REPORTS INDICATE THE BISMARCK IS GOING IN CIRCLES AND NO LONGER MAKING HEADWAY. EITHER HER STEERING MECHANISM OR HER RUDDER APPEARS TO BE DAMAGED. THIS MAY HAVE HAPPENED DURING THE TORPEDO ATTACK. THE POSSIBILITY OF CATCHING HER IS NO LONGER REMOTE. DID YOU OFFER UP A PRAYER TO THE LORD OF THE SEA?

Edward scribbled out a message on the back of the note. “I offered up Nelson’s prayer before Trafalgar.” He handed the note to the sailor. “Take this to the commodore.”

He sat on the edge of his bunk. Thoughts and images were swirling in his head.

Did You answer my prayer, my God? Did You answer the prayers of ten thousand Englishmen and ignore the prayers of the German fleet and nation?

An alarm suddenly blared over the Tannoy. “Action stations! Action stations!”

Edward vaulted off his bunk toward his action station at the bridge.

As he ran, he watched the gunnery crew climb to the armored control tower above the bridge. These were the sailors who used the range finder and fired the sixteen-inch guns. Edward watched them take their stations.

“Shoot true,” he murmured under his breath.

When he entered the bridge the commodore turned to him. “Admiral Tovey is near us on the
King George the Fifth.
He believes there will be night action. Stand by.”

“Aye, aye, sir.”

But they stood through the dark of the night and only watched the bow cut into the waves and rear its head again, smothered in white foam against the blackness of sea and sky.

Eventually there was a gray dawn, a pale sun, and an ocean restless with waves. Edward checked his watch—seven twenty-two, Wednesday, May 27. The cruiser
Norfolk
steamed up from the south and joined them. Edward kept his eyes focused on the line between sky and sea. In a short time the cruiser
Dorsetshire
was also there.

“
Bismarck
sighted from the tower,” said one of the officers suddenly.

“Where away?” asked the commodore.

“Five degrees off the starboard bow. Twenty-five thousand yards.”

“Just over fourteen miles.” Dalrymple-Hamilton leaned forward in his seat. “Is Lieutenant Commander Crawford in the tower with the gunnery crew?”

“Yes, sir. He confirms
Bismarck
is in sight.”

Edward glanced at his watch again. Eight forty-four.

“Tell him to prepare to fire.”

“Aye, aye, sir.” The officer spoke into the microphone. “Prepare to fire.”

A minute went by. Two minutes.

“Range?” asked Dalrymple-Hamilton.

“Twenty-three thousand, four hundred yards, sir.”

“Open fire.”

“Aye, aye, sir.” The officer spoke calmly into the microphone again. “Fire.”

A heartbeat. The ting-ting of the warning fire bells.

The ship shook, and the sixteen-inch guns of A and B turret thundered. Smoke and flame burst over the front of
Rodney.

“Crawford reports
Bismarck
has returned fire, sir.”

“Very well.”

Edward and the others on the bridge clearly heard the screech of the shells passing overhead.

A half minute later there was another shriek from tons of flying metal. Massive columns of white water shot up to port and starboard.

“She’s straddled us.” Dalrymple-Hamilton kept his eyes forward. “Close the distance and continue firing.”

“Aye, aye, sir. Close the distance and continue firing.”

Again the howl of flying steel. Again the huge spouts of water and the crash of high explosives.

“Crawford reports we have straddled
Bismarck
on our third salvo.”

“Very good.”

“Crawford reports we have two hits from our fourth salvo.”

“Very good. Carry on.”

“Fires in
Bismarck
’s forecastle. Their A and B turrets appear to have been hit.”

Rodney
’s guns poured more fire and rattled the bridge with their blasts.

“We have a hit on the
Bismarck
’s upper deck.”

The scream of
Bismarck
’s shells. More geysers. No longer close to
Rodney.

“We’ve straddled the enemy again, sir. The bridge has been destroyed. So has their conning tower.”

Edward’s watch read nine thirteen.

The lads in the engine room told me they had family killed in Coventry and Liverpool and Nottingham by the German bombers. Others had family killed and maimed in London and Dover and Portsmouth. The men have not forgotten or forgiven. I expect the sailors loading shells into our sixteen-inch guns are no different. Nor the men directing the fire from the tower.

“We’ve straddled her again, sir. Spotters report a hit behind the funnel.”

Nine twenty-seven.

“Spotters report we’ve knocked out D turret, sir.”

Nine thirty-one.

The distance between
Rodney
and
Bismarck
gradually closed to less than three thousand yards—less than two miles.

Edward and the commodore and the others could see
Bismarck
plainly from the bridge.

“It’s completely on fire from bow to stern,” whispered Edward.

Rodney
’s guns blasted
Bismarck
again and again. Edward watched a shell travel from their guns straight into the
Bismarck
’s B turret and blow it apart.

“Their Bruno turret is hit, sir,” an officer informed Dalrymple-Hamilton.

“I see that. Are the six-inch guns engaging as rapidly as possible?”

“Yes, sir. The range is perfect for them. Almost four hundred six-inch shells have been fired. And over two hundred sixteen-inch shells.
Bismarck
’s return fire has been erratic. Her last salvo was observed at nine thirty-one.”

“We shall follow the standard rules of engagement and continue to fire until the
Bismarck
strikes her colors and surrenders or she is sunk. We shall fire so long as Sir Admiral Tovey on
King George the Fifth
orders the battleships and the cruisers to keep inflicting damage on the enemy.”

“Aye, aye, sir.”

Bismarck
seemed to vanish in high white shell splashes and black smoke—red flame spitting and roiling and stabbing—reemerging bright with a fierce burning, and disappearing again as more near misses threw up tall columns of spray or hits that struck the German battleship with more flame and more explosions.

Edward finally closed his eyes.

L
ORD
, make me to know mine end, and the measure of my days, what it is; that I may know how frail I am. Behold, thou hast made my days as an handbreadth; and mine age is as nothing before thee: verily every man in his best state is altogether vanity. Surely every man walketh in a vain show: surely they are disquieted in vain: he heapeth up riches, and knoweth not who shall gather them.

Sunday, May 27, House of Commons, Church House, London

At eleven a.m. Winston Churchill rose to address the House of Commons at Church House.

“This morning, shortly after daybreak, the
Bismarck
, virtually immobilized, without help, was attacked by British battleships that pursued her. I don’t know the result of this action. It seems however, that
Bismarck
was not sunk by gunfire, and now will be sunk by torpedoes. It is believed that this is happening right now. Great as is our loss in the
Hood
, the
Bismarck
must be regarded as the most powerful enemy battleship, as she is the newest enemy battleship, and the striking of her from the German Navy is a very definite simplification of the task of maintaining effective mastery of the northern sea and maintenance of the northern blockade.”

He sat back down. A note was handed to him. He stood a second time.

“I have just received news that the
Bismarck
is sunk.”

The hall erupted in cheers and cries and applause. Lord Preston rose to his feet along with the others but made no sound and did not clap his hands. The cheering continued for several minutes. He made his way through the press of MPs and out into the street where he hailed a cab. Alighting at a house in Camden, he knocked on the door. Charlotte answered.

“Father,” she said. “I thought you were in the House of Commons today.”

“I have just come from there. Where is Libby?”

“We were both having tea in the parlor.”

He took her hand. “Let us go there.”

Libby saw her father and got to her feet.

“What is it?” she asked.

“
Bismarck
is sunk. The prime minister has just announced it.” He cleared his throat and repeated the words. “
Bismarck
is sunk.”

At first Libby didn’t respond.

“I suppose I feel differently from many in England,” she said after several moments. “I cannot be happy about more death even if it is the death of the enemy. I wish
Bismarck
had surrendered.”

“So do I.”

“I pray Edward is well. When will we find out?”

“Very soon, I should think.”

“And what about Owen? Poor Char has been going about with a tremendous burden on her shoulders.”

“I expect we shall know about Owen too before the day is out.”

Libby walked across the room and hugged Charlotte. Then she put her arms around her father.

“People say they are surprised I’m not bitter at God, Papa. But I have led a blessed life. Michael was a wonderful husband, and so was Terry. I should not have missed it for the world. If I had been told at twenty whom I was to marry and that I would lose them both, I suppose I would not have gone ahead. But now that I look back I can only thank God for how He has cared for me. I loved both the men He gave me with all my heart, and they loved me back in the same way.”

Sunday, May 27, aboard HMS
Rodney
in the North Atlantic

At the same moment, hundreds of miles away on the North Atlantic,
Rodney
was making her way through wind-ragged seas toward Scotland. She would put up in Greenock on the River Clyde for fuel and oil before departing for the South Boston Navy Yard in America for repair and a refit of her engines and boilers. Edward returned to the bridge after a visit to the engine room and saluted.

“The lads are in fine spirits, sir,” he reported. “They were glad to hear my account of the battle.”

“If it hadn’t been for their efforts with those boilers and engines,” responded the commodore, “there wouldn’t have been a battle, certainly not a successful one. I hope you conveyed my hearty thanks to them all.”

“I did, sir. One of them replied with Nelson’s admonition at Trafalgar. “England expects that every man will do his duty.”

Dalrymple-Hamilton laughed. “Did he? God bless him. And God bless you.” He handed Edward a note. “We’ve just received this signal.”

LEADING SEAMAN OWEN DANFORTH WAS INJURED IN HMS PRINCE OF WALE’S BATTLE WITH THE BISMARCK. HE HAS BEEN LAID UP IN SICK BAY. INJURIES ARE MINOR AND A FULL RECOVERY IS EXPECTED. HE SENDS
CONGRATULATIONS TO HIS FATHER ON HMS RODNEY’S SINKING OF THE BISMARCK. PSALM 18:37.

“Oh, sir.” Edward read the note a second time. His throat tightened. “This is very good news indeed. Thank God.”

“I’ll add a heartfelt Church of England amen to that, Commander.”

“We use the verse for Royal Navy shorthand, but I don’t recall it off the top of my head.”

The commodore smiled. “It has been a turbulent three or four days, and the Protestant chaplain informs me there are more than thirty-one thousand verses in the Bible. You can’t be expected to remember them all.”

“Still, I should like to know what the verse said he sent to me.”

“ ‘I have pursued mine enemies, and overtaken them: neither did I turn again till they were consumed.’ Victory at sea, Commander. And, in your case, the greater victory of a son brought back from the dead.”

13

November 30, 1941

Ashton Park

“It is that rarest of things,” Lord Preston murmured. “A blue sky in November.”

He stood on the sea cliff and closed his eyes to the cut of the wind and the knifing brilliance of the sun on the waters. Behind him he heard the laughter of the children and the good-natured shouts of Todd Turpin and Harrison as they took them on a walk through the woods.