raids ever undertaken; an action that, even in the illustrious history of the Royal Navy, will be remembered as one of its more glorious episodes. Captain Boyd of
Illustrious
, addressing his ship’s company after the raid, was speaking the truth when he said: ‘In one night the ship’s aircraft had achieved a greater amount of damage to the enemy than Nelson had achieved in the Battle of Trafalgar, and nearly twice the amount that the entire British Fleet achieved in the Battle of Jutland in the First World War.’
Operation Archery
0739 27 December 1941
THE ICY ROOFTOPS glistened in the moonlight as the sleepy fishing port of Vaagso slowly stirred into life. It was one of the shortest days of the year and it would be two and a half hours before the sun finally appeared. Fishermen were heading down to the quays to prepare their boats, mothers were busy laying the breakfast table and replenishing the fires and stoves to keep out the perishing cold. Sleeping off the festive celebrations, most of the 250 German troops stationed in and around the little Norwegian town were still in their barracks and billets. There was little reason to rise early. On the fringes of the Arctic Circle, far from the frontline of the European war, once again the biggest challenge of their day would be to beat off the boredom. Fifty of the troops, a crack unit sent to the area to rest up after months of hard fighting, could at least look forward to a day of lazing around and drinking.
Four miles offshore, Rear Admiral Burrough stood on the bridge of the cruiser HMS
Kenya
and checked the clock on the wall. They were a minute later – not bad considering the earlier weather and the distance the force had covered. At the mouth of the Vaagsfjord, the submarine HMS
Tuna
quietly rose from the depths of the Norwegian Sea and broke the surface of the ice-cold water. There was relief at both ends when the two vessels made contact. Everything was going to plan. Five hundred and fifty Commandos, the new elite fighting force in the British Army, fingered their weapons, ammo pouches and Mills bombs, fastened their haversacks and helmets and clanked their way up from the lower decks of the two troopships and lined up in silence by the landing craft waiting for the signal to embark. No one spoke. Surprise was essential.
The seven ships of the naval force reduced speed and slowly crept towards the harbour mouth. The coastal gun batteries were not to be roused. A Norwegian pilot on the bridge of the
Kenya
, familiar with the hidden hazards of the fjord, guided the ships towards land. Navigation in Norwegian waters is a perilous affair at the best of times. The rock formations below the surface are as sheer as those in the landscape that tower over the water like giant walls. One moment, a ship has fifty fathoms below it, the next it might be impaling itself on the peak of an underwater mountain. Only the most astute observer would have noticed the slight increase in surf, from the wake of the vessels, rolling towards the steep, craggy coast. It was probably as well that none of the 2,000 souls ashore had the first inkling of the fate that was about to befall their sleepy, picturesque community of red wooden houses, huts and warehouses stretched out along the waterfront. The clock was running down to the launch of Operation ARCHERY, one of the most audacious and significant raids undertaken in World War Two, with consequences far beyond those intended or imagined by its planners at Combined Operations HQ in Whitehall. By the time the first major raid by British Commandos was over, a subtle shift had taken place in the European conflict – and the very nature of warfare had been changed forever.
Within days of the evacuation of Dunkirk in May 1940, Churchill had sent a memorandum to his Chiefs of Staff asking how they might bring down a ‘reign of terror’ on German forces in occupied territories. Aware that it would be many years before the UK was ready
Illustrious
, addressing his ship’s company after the raid, was speaking the truth when he said: ‘In one night the ship’s aircraft had achieved a greater amount of damage to the enemy than Nelson had achieved in the Battle of Trafalgar, and nearly twice the amount that the entire British Fleet achieved in the Battle of Jutland in the First World War.’
Operation Archery
0739 27 December 1941
THE ICY ROOFTOPS glistened in the moonlight as the sleepy fishing port of Vaagso slowly stirred into life. It was one of the shortest days of the year and it would be two and a half hours before the sun finally appeared. Fishermen were heading down to the quays to prepare their boats, mothers were busy laying the breakfast table and replenishing the fires and stoves to keep out the perishing cold. Sleeping off the festive celebrations, most of the 250 German troops stationed in and around the little Norwegian town were still in their barracks and billets. There was little reason to rise early. On the fringes of the Arctic Circle, far from the frontline of the European war, once again the biggest challenge of their day would be to beat off the boredom. Fifty of the troops, a crack unit sent to the area to rest up after months of hard fighting, could at least look forward to a day of lazing around and drinking.
Four miles offshore, Rear Admiral Burrough stood on the bridge of the cruiser HMS
Kenya
and checked the clock on the wall. They were a minute later – not bad considering the earlier weather and the distance the force had covered. At the mouth of the Vaagsfjord, the submarine HMS
Tuna
quietly rose from the depths of the Norwegian Sea and broke the surface of the ice-cold water. There was relief at both ends when the two vessels made contact. Everything was going to plan. Five hundred and fifty Commandos, the new elite fighting force in the British Army, fingered their weapons, ammo pouches and Mills bombs, fastened their haversacks and helmets and clanked their way up from the lower decks of the two troopships and lined up in silence by the landing craft waiting for the signal to embark. No one spoke. Surprise was essential.
The seven ships of the naval force reduced speed and slowly crept towards the harbour mouth. The coastal gun batteries were not to be roused. A Norwegian pilot on the bridge of the
Kenya
, familiar with the hidden hazards of the fjord, guided the ships towards land. Navigation in Norwegian waters is a perilous affair at the best of times. The rock formations below the surface are as sheer as those in the landscape that tower over the water like giant walls. One moment, a ship has fifty fathoms below it, the next it might be impaling itself on the peak of an underwater mountain. Only the most astute observer would have noticed the slight increase in surf, from the wake of the vessels, rolling towards the steep, craggy coast. It was probably as well that none of the 2,000 souls ashore had the first inkling of the fate that was about to befall their sleepy, picturesque community of red wooden houses, huts and warehouses stretched out along the waterfront. The clock was running down to the launch of Operation ARCHERY, one of the most audacious and significant raids undertaken in World War Two, with consequences far beyond those intended or imagined by its planners at Combined Operations HQ in Whitehall. By the time the first major raid by British Commandos was over, a subtle shift had taken place in the European conflict – and the very nature of warfare had been changed forever.
Within days of the evacuation of Dunkirk in May 1940, Churchill had sent a memorandum to his Chiefs of Staff asking how they might bring down a ‘reign of terror’ on German forces in occupied territories. Aware that it would be many years before the UK was ready
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