![\"Artist's](\"https:\/\/stephensnelling.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/01\/Artists-impression-of-Campbeltowns-charge-towards-the-Normandie-dock..jpg\")
<\/a>Artist’s impression of Campbeltown’s charge towards the Normandie dock<\/p><\/div>\n
Charles Newman, the military commander and CO of No 2 Commando later awarded a richly-deserved Victoria Cross for his magnificent leadership, featured prominently in the story, as did \u2018Sam\u2019 Beattie, the captain of the converted Lend-Lease destroyer, who courageously and skilfully steered his \u2018wreck ship\u2019 crammed with explosive through a blizzard of fire into the dock gates.<\/p>\n
Though not named, Norfolk commando Ron Butler was another of those whose exploits were covered. He was depicted as one of the demolition team commanded by Lieutenant Stuart Chant that blew up the port\u2019s pump-house which involved a desperate race against the clock to escape the effects of the explosion.<\/p>\n
It was, by any standards, a remarkable feat of bravery which resulted in Ron being awarded a Military Medal some three years later following his return from captivity. And it still gives me goose-bumps when I listen to his ghostly voice on tape as he recounts his journey down the river Loire, bordered on each side by enemy gun positions and backed by thousands of enemy soldiers.<\/p>\n
Crouching behind specially constructed iron shields set into the deck of the Campbeltown, he could do nothing but wait while the navy tried to fool the Germans into believing they were a \u2018friendly\u2019 force returning to base.<\/p>\n
This is how he remembered it:<\/p>\n
It was only at this particular time of year we could go over the mudflats. We actually touched bottom twice. You could feel it\u2026 We were \u2018talking\u2019 [by way of signals] to the Germans all the way upriver. We were flying the Nazi swastika and searchlights were on us. You could have read a newspaper [by them]. I laid behind the bridge and I could hear Beattie saying, \u2018Send the signal of the day again\u2026 Send it very slowly\u2019 and then, \u2018Tell them we are a German patrol. We have had a battle in the Atlantic and are coming in for repairs. Tell them very slowly. Time is of the essence.\u2019<\/p>\n
Then, as a last resort, Beattie said to tell them to \u2018have ambulances ready, we\u2019ve got wounded aboard\u2019.\u201d<\/p>\n
Not long after the Old Mole was illuminated by the searchlights and shortly after that, the Germans, having finally realised what was happening, opened fire. Ron\u2019s story continues:<\/p>\n
\u2018Down came the swastika\u2026 up went the white ensign. You did feel proud. Everyone opened fire. The covering parties – the lot! The Germans opened up with their heavy guns. The shells were going right through the ship and exploding the other side. We were so close\u2026 Anybody who isn\u2019t frightened [in situations like that] is an idiot\u2026 We were now going to hit the dock gates. We hunched up. We expected a terrific shock. Beattie hit it flat out, but we got the surprise of our lives. We felt her ride the torpedo boom as she went into that dock and we didn\u2019t feel much of a shudder\u2026\u2019<\/p>\n
<\/a>Norfolk commando Ron Butler and friend<\/p><\/div>\n
Scrambling over the ship\u2019s now stationary bows and onto the dock, they raced for their target – the port\u2019s pumping station. A covering party of commandos cleared the way and within minutes they were inside, clattering down steel stairways to their objective. Ron recalls:<\/p>\n
\u2018The pumping station wasn\u2019t too far away, about a couple of hundred yards. It was situated on the edge of the dock for the emptying and refilling of the dock\u2026 It was a beautiful place. There was just a soft hum of machinery with a light shining in the office\u2026 We got stuck in straight away\u2026\u2019<\/p>\n
With a wounded man guarding the approach, the rest of the demolition party got to work:<\/p>\n
\u2018We had torches [but] it was an eerie experience. We hoped we wouldn\u2019t take the wrong gangway [and, eventually] we landed up at the bottom floor where these four massive, slug-like pumps were situated and there we all laid our charges and connected them up\u2026\u2019<\/p>\n
After that it was a sprint to get out of the pump house before the explosive detonated. Ron was last man out, assisting his wounded comrade out of harm\u2019s way. Not long after, the building was rocked by what Ron called a \u2018terrific roar\u2019.<\/p>\n
With the destruction of so many motor launches making an evacuation by sea impossible, Ron then joined the fight inland as the commandos attempted the seemingly impossible task of breaking out of the German-held port to reach the countryside beyond. To escape the docks, they had to pass over a bridge covered by enemy troops. On the tape, Ron recalls:<\/p>\n
\u2018They should never have allowed us to get over that bridge. There was a pillbox at the other end, and our chaps got across and put hand grenades in and we piled across.\u2019<\/p>\n
He found a German truck on the other side, but when he got in found it had been immobilised:<\/p>\n
\u2018Round the corner came a motorbike and side-car with a machine-gun in the side-car opening up. He didn\u2019t last very long. I [then] went over a wall and fell into a chicken coop.\u2019<\/p>\n
Caught in a tangle of netting with chickens squacking after him, he ran up the garden path into the house where he sheltered. Eventually, he made his way, street by street, to a small copse where he found around 15 wounded men together with an officer. Together, they helped them into a nearby house and were busy treating their injuries when a German search party burst in.<\/p>\n
It was the end of Ron\u2019s stout-hearted resistance, but not the end of the raid\u2019s myriad achievements. A few hours later, with the captured commandos gathered together in a pre-war seaside hotel at nearby Le Baule, there was a deafening explosion that signalled the end of the Campbeltown and the final success of their mission.<\/p>\n
<\/a>Victor version<\/p><\/div>\n
So ended \u2018the greatest raid of all\u2019, a saga of outstanding courage against the odds which was recounted with such matter-of-fact modesty in an interview that remains one of the highlights of my 40 years in journalism.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Maybe it\u2019s a sign of advancing age, but it\u2019s strange how often these days that a new project seems to stir memories of past encounters. Take my latest venture: an article for Britain at War Magazine to mark the 75th … Continue reading