大象传媒

This story appears courtesy of and with thanks to Mike Kemble and Captain Frederick Walker

In March, Walker and his group were assigned to escort a unique convoy to Russia--unique because the most valuable ship of them all was the U.S. cruiser Milwaukee. She was a gift from President Franklin D. Roosevelt to Josef Stalin, and although sailing with an all-American crew, she was placed in the care of the Royal Navy for the voyage. Walker sank two more U-boats on this trip, and Milwaukee was duly delivered. She was handed over to the Russians, who renamed her Murmansk, and the British group sailed for home with the American crew. On the way back, a spate of urgent signals indicated that U-473 had torpedoed and sunk the American destroyer Donnell about 200 miles away. Having enjoyed his recent experience of working with Allies, Walker promised his passengers to seek out and avenge their compatriots. It was a classic hunt. Although the enemy could be anywhere within a radius of 200 miles, Walker drew on his vast knowledge of U-boat tactics to calculate several possibilities. He chose the enemy's most likely course and moved to intercept. Two days later, U-473 stalked a fresh area of operations and found the Second Support Group already there. U-473 proved to be a slippery opponent. The British hunted the U-boat for 23 hours in a nervy, protracted wait punctuated by clouds of gnats that sent them scudding in all directions. Always they managed to regain contact. Once again it was the lack of air that forced U-473 to surface, and again the combined fire of the group sent a U-boat to the bottom. Honour was satisfied. Donnell was avenged. When the hunters returned to Liverpool, Eileen Walker was aghast at her husband's haggard appearance. The toll being taken of his strength and resistance frightened her. Walker was killing himself, gradually and inevitably. General Eisenhower, Allied commander in chief, had decreed that the Normandy invasion forces--and if possible the entire English Channel--must be free from the threat of massed U-boat attack for the D-Day landings to succeed. From D-Day to D-plus-14, the assault forces would have to be landed safely, the beachhead consolidated, and the build up of supplies assured. On June 6, D-Day, 76 U-boats sailed from their Biscay bases into the Channel to disrupt the landings in Normandy. As sighting reports streamed into Starling, Walker said: "Eisenhower wants two weeks. He'll not only get it, but this is our chance to smash the U-boat arm for all time." In those first three days, he directed his 40 ships into no fewer than 36 attacks, during which eight U-boats were destroyed and many more damaged. Aircraft claimed another six, and the first enemy wave withdrew.
The U-boats returned later for another desperate effort to penetrate into the Channel, and for a week there was no rest for men or ships. Each time it was Starling's turn to retire for new ammunition her crew snatched a few hours' sleep. But not Walker. He attended conferences, adjusted tactics, laid new plans and with seemingly inexhaustible energy took his ship back to sea to resume the struggle. Only a handful of U-boats needed to reach the landing area to create the havoc that would give the enemy vital respite. The two weeks demanded by Eisenhower passed without a single U-boat getting through. In the third week, three slipped past the defenders and caused a moment of panic among the great invasion fleet, but they were quickly destroyed. After three weeks, the U-boats withdrew again, unbelievably mauled. They were never to return in strength. Walker had achieved his final ambition, the destruction of the U-boats as an integrated fighting force. The Battle of the Atlantic was won; the Battle for the Channel had never been lost. Even Walker's own officers were becoming alarmed at the grey, drawn face of their captain. His eyes had sunk back into a gaunt face that was itself little more than skin stretched across bones. His lean frame sagged, and his normal decisiveness was being replaced by growing hesitancy and an uncertain search for the right words when sending signals. Yet no one could foresee the end. Johnnie Walker's name was acclaimed in the press alongside those of the "glamour" boys, Montgomery, Mountbatten, Patton and Bradley. Nowadays I would place him alongside Sir Francis Drake and Admiral Nelson without a second thought.
An Admiralty representative called on Eileen at her Liverpool home to relay the news that her husband was to be knighted by King George VI. Now, she thought, he will have to take a rest. The afternoon following his arrival home, the couple went to the movies to see Madame Curie. Afterward, he complained of giddiness and a curious humming noise in his head. At home he was violently sick, and the giddy spells returned. Walker was rushed to the hospital and immediately examined. "All your husband needs is quiet and rest," Eileen was told. But the next day it became apparent that something was seriously wrong with Johnnie Walker. The news that his life might be in danger spread throughout the whole command. At midnight on July 9, 1944, Eileen was summoned to her husband's bedside. Too late. Captain Johnny Walker was dead. Officially he died of a cerebral thrombosis. In fact, he died of overstrain, overwork and war weariness; his mind and body had been driven beyond the normal limits in a life dedicated to the total destruction of the enemy, revenge for his son and to the service of his country.
In 1917 Germany claimed 8 million tons of allied shipping sunk by U Boat. In only 3 years of war. The lessons clearly had not been learnt. Britain fully expected the main threat to come from surface ships. Too much confidence had been placed in ASDIC, the Navy鈥檚 underwater 鈥渆ye鈥�. Churchill, having seen a demonstration for himself, in calm waters, also placed too much emphasis on ASDIC. The truth was far from it. ASDIC did not like foul weather, could detect underwater shoals of fish, the seabed and wrecks. The operators had to distinguish between the difference signals being received. Yet for all this confidence, too few ships were equipped and too few operators trained to use it well. Snobbery within the service also took its toll; the Anti Submarine Unit was seen as a bit of a 鈥淐inderella鈥� service. Admiralty had difficulty persuading young officers to join. Too much faith had been put in ASDIC, a submarine on the surface was virtually undetectable. 鈥淚 don鈥檛 remember ever being taught the WW1 submarine tactics鈥�, said ASW specialist, Maurice Usherwood, 鈥淚 was expecting them to remain at periscope depth and attack from there鈥�. The importance of air power towards the end of WW1 showed clearly fewer losses than those without and yet the Admiralty鈥檚 faith in ASDIC was so strong that it deemed aircraft to be no longer essential in this role. - The idea of old 鈥渟tuck in the mud鈥� staff officers who thought that they knew better comes easily to mind.

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