Lt-Cdr Pat Kingsmill

Swordfish pilot in the Channel dash attack

Charles Major Kingsmill, naval aviator and hospital administrator: born Edmonton, Alberta 19 September 1920; DSO 1942; married 1940 Connie Durrant (died 1956; two sons, one daughter), 1957 Unity Urquhart (one son, two daughters, and one daughter deceased); died London 1 January 2003

For courage in the face of overwhelming odds, few examples match that of the brave crews of 825 Swordfish Squadron. Their ill-fated but inspiring attack on the Scharnhorst and Gniesenau during their Channel dash on 12 February 1942 earned them legendary status within naval history. Pat Kingsmill was one of those brave pilots.

He flew into devastating fire not only from the two battlecruisers and their escorting convoy, but from a formidable array of Focke-Wulf 190s. Yet he continued his attack and launched his torpedo before being shot down. The valour of these six aircrews was recognised when Lt-Cdr Eugene Esmond, who had led the raid, was awarded a posthumous VC. Pat Kingsmill, one of only five survivors of the raid, was awarded a DSO. Admiral Sir Bertram Ramsey, Flag Officer in Charge, Dover, signalled: "In my opinion, the gallant sortie of six Swordfish constituted one of the finest exhibitions of self-sacrifice and devotion to duty that the war has yet witnessed."

In the spring of 1941, having sunk 22 Allied ships, the German battlecruisers Scharnhorst and Gniesenau returned to the port of Brest, on the west coast of France. They were joined by the heavy cruiser Prinz Eugen. The continued presence of the three formidable ships was a severe threat to North African and Atlantic supply convoys. The task of neutralising these ships was given to the RAF. RAF raids on Brest left the ships damaged but by no means crippled.

The Allies came to the conclusion that the two ships would break out of Brest and attempt a dash through the Channel. However the Allies Directive which became known as "Fuller" stated, "It is unlikely that the enemy would pass through the Straits of Dover in daylight." Admiral Otto Ciliax, in command of the German fleet, thought otherwise. With the Luftwaffe fighter ace Adolf Galland, he meticulously planned his escape. Weather forecasts and tides indicated that 11 February 1942 at 19.30 would be the ideal time to sail. What followed next was a series of events which beggared belief.

That night the RAF mounted a raid on Brest at 19.30, which delayed the ships' departure. The submarine Lion, on regular nightly patrols off Brest, ran out of time and at 20.00 hours retired to recharge her batteries, therefore missing the ships and their destroyer escort as they sailed out of Brest at 21.30. There were also three Hudsons flying reconnaissance patrols over the area. The first was attacked by night fighters, switched off its radar and flew back to base. The second developed radar problems and did likewise. The third was recalled early because of fog at its airfield.

Unbelievably the two battlecruisers and escort of 61 ships had sailed through the night undetected. The following morning two Spitfires flying weather sorties detected the massive armada, but were under strict instructions to maintain radio silence. Recognising the significance of this sighting, one of the pilots decided to break silence. The German ships logged his signal and expected trouble. It took another hour to convince the British High Command that danger existed. "Fuller" was ordered into action, 16 and a half hours after the ships had left Brest.

As the British had expected a night passage through the Straits, fighter squadrons had been stood down. This applied to the Swordfish of 825 Squadron based at Manston. At 11.05 the RAF telephoned Lt-Cdr Esmond, 825's Commanding Officer, to warn him. The intelligence officer at RAF Biggin Hill was on leave and had taken the key to the safe with him, so no one knew what "Fuller" meant. Just after noon, instead of the five squadrons demanded by "Fuller", a single squadron left to escort 825.

As 825 aircrews made their way to dispersal, many of them knew full well what a day raid would entail, because they had been part of the attack on the Bismark. This time it was not in the middle of the Atlantic, but in the Straits of Dover and ringing in their ears was the warning from the RAF of the new German fighter, the Focke-Wulf 190. There was a desperate need of cover from the RAF, but it was not there in-depth, and what there was had to deal with constant attacks from Me109s and Fw190s. The Luftwaffe, however, were having difficulty with the slower moving Swordfish and had lowered their undercarriage and flaps in an attempt to reduce speed and not overshoot the Swordfish, whose cruising speed was 90mph.

Esmond, with two others including Kingsmill, led the attack and although his aircraft was severely damaged and most of his lower port wing lost he continued the attack until he finally crashed into the Channel. Kingsmill was just behind him and his gunner, Leading Airman Donald Bunce, was kept busy as they went in, but Kingsmill was unhappy with his first run at the Prinz Eugen and turned for a second attempt, only to be severely hit after he had released his torpedo at about 1,000 yards.

Kingsmill saw some small boats below and thought they might be MTBs (motor torpedo boats) but as he descended he realised they were E-boats and their gunfire reinforced this view. But, with consummate skill, Kingsmill began to crab away, while Bunce emptied his last magazine in their direction. Although he had lost two cylinders from his engine Kingsmill managed to ditch perfectly. Fortunately a motorboat was soon alongside, as they had lost their dinghy.

Only five of the 18 crewmen who had set out that day returned. The bold Channel dash of the Scharnhorst and Gniesenau had succeeded beyond expectations and was a major propaganda coup for the Germans. However, the threat to the Atlantic convoy from Brest had been eliminated.

Pat Kingsmill was born to English parents in Canada and on their return to Britain was educated at Dulwich College. He volunteered for the Fleet Air Arm at the beginning of the Second World War and trained as a pilot. The severe burns he received after ditching his aircraft necessitated hundreds of hours of plastic surgery and he became an honorary member of the Guinea Pig Club. These injuries prevented him from flying again and he spent the rest of the war at the Admiralty in London. After the war he worked as a hospital administrator in the NHS and abroad.

Max Arthur