On May 11th.1941 at 0530hrs H.M.S. Dorsetshire left Freetown on what we assumed was to be another routine assignment. As usual 'buzzes' were flying around the messdecks like flakes in a snowstorm. The harmless gossip oiled the wheels of the ships' monotonous routine and made it palatable. We could not have envisaged that we were destined to go into naval history as the ship that finally sank the pride of the German navy. Clear of the land the captain spoke over the tannoy putting the rumours and guesswork to rest. He gave us the best news we had heard for some time, the ship was going home. The married men were elated at the prospect of seeing their families. So were the unmarried ones, with a chance of indulging in their fascination for girls, females, women and the opposite sex.

 

 Next day Dorsetshire took charge of the forty-three ships in convoy SL74 bound for England. Helped by the Armed Merchant Cruiser 'Bulolo', Captain Martin was responsible for getting the ships safely through the notorious U-boat hunting grounds without loss. The convoy was slow with an overall speed of 7 knots, and 'Pincher' showed his annoyance by continually chasing up the stragglers who found it hard to keep up at times. A Royal Air Force Sunderland Flying Boat based in Gambia gave added protection by over-flying the ships for a period and it's presence was greatly appreciated. Steaming slowly northwards, we got the shattering news that the German battleship 'Bismarck' had sunk H.M.S Hood. In company with the 44500ton battleship Prince of Wales, she had the misfortune to get within range of the German guns. 'Hood' blew up and sank, the Prince of Wales was damaged and forced to make for port. The combined efforts of 'Bismarck' (Capt. Lindeman) and her escort the heavy cruiser 'Prinz Eugen' (Capt. Brinkmann) had destroyed one of the largest fighting ships in the world, and a myth. For many years H.M.S. Hood had been portrayed as the all-powerful warship, a view not shared by everyone who had served on her. My first thoughts went back to the stories told to me by boys who had worked in her turrets about worn out guns. Although of immense size she was an elderly lady, twenty years older and no match for the modern 'Bismark', except in propaganda films. Only three men survived from the ships' complement of over 1400 picked up by H.M.S. Electra. The destroyer had raced to the scene expecting to save hundreds. Little did we realise as we discussed the appalling loss of life, that within three days we would be the ones to rescue the greatest number of survivors from a stricken 'Bismark'.

 

There was a general feeling of excitement on the 26th as ‘Dorsetshire’ steadily increased speed towards 25 knots. The thrust from the Cammell Lairds engines sent a pulsating sensation through the ship from stem to stern, a warning that something was happening. The frantic liveliness in the wireless room, with messengers rushing backwards and forwards between the Bridge and the Cypher Officer, had all the telltale signs there was a 'flap' on. Surprisingly, action stations had not been sounded, implying we were not in any immediate danger. When the Bosun's call (pipe) shrilled over the tannoy it got everyone's attention. The Quartermaster announced that the captain would speak to the ships' company in ten minutes time, and he repeated the message to stress its importance. When Capt. Martin addressed us it was to say that we were proceeding in all haste to find the German battleship Bismarck and as always he expected only the very best from us. Many of us listening jokingly expressed reservations about fighting 'Bismarck', especially after what it had done to the 'Hood' and Prince of Wales. We thought the 'old man' should look around for something more of ‘Dorsetshire's’ size, but whatever our misgivings they were soon forgotten when we closed up at battle stations and made ready for combat. We knew that if the occasion did arise 'Pincher' Martin would point his cruiser at the enemy battleship, as he had done with the mighty 'Richelieu', and engage no matter what the consequences might be. George Bell told me later that he had overheard the captain telling officers that if he couldn't sink the German with gunfire or torpedoes then he would ram her. Eyebrows were raised when Captain Martin first left the large convoy behind in sole charge of the merchant cruiser. It was a decision he made on his own initiative without bothering to seek authorization from a higher authority. A signal to the Admiralty informed them of the convoy's position with 'Bulolo' and his intention to leave to intercept the enemy. He knew he would have to accept full responsibility for any loss to the convoy but it was a calculated risk he was prepared to take. 'Pincher' Martin had no intention of missing the chance of a confrontation with the enemy and enhancing his promotion prospects.

 

 He mercilessly punished the ship and it's engines driving 'Dorsetshire' on in heavy seas and foul weather. He demanded, and got, every ounce of speed to ensure his ship would play an important part in the destruction of 'Bismark'. Giant waves and howling winds caused the cruiser to pitch and roll like an old scow. A mist that reduced visibility although not the ships’ speed made conditions worse. Each time ‘Dorsetshire’ crashed through a wall of water, she shook herself like a dog shaking off water to get rid of the glistening spray before ploughing onward again. Below decks it was like riding a roller coaster, but without the screams of delight. Many justifiably reasoned that 'hard layer' allowances should be extended to all cruisers with captains like Martin in command. At mealtime the 'cooks of the mess' had great difficulty getting from the Galley to the messdeck. It was not easy to hold a hot tin dish with two hands and find another limb to grasp a fixture when the ship rolled. One unfortunate from No.5 Mess, carrying a tray of dinner steadied himself at the top of the steep sloping ladder. Putting his leg over the hatch coaming he waited for the opportune moment to start his descent. Suddenly the ship lurched and he slithered down the steel steps, upending the sloppy concoction over himself and the mess space.  The poor fellow had to be taken to the Sick Bay. No words of patriotic zeal could console him, fighting the 'Bismark' did not feature on his list of priorities. He put the blame for his misfortune squarely on the shoulders of the Captain for speeding in such harsh conditions.

 

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Sinking the Bismarck

An eye witness account of the sinking of the Bismarck from the book “Taking the King’s Shilling” by John Cannon