August 29, 1943, was D-Day for the Danish Navy. Four A.M. was zero l hour. A few minutes ahead of time the Germans began what every officer and every enlisted man had been expecting for the last 24 hours: they stormed the gates of the Copenhagen Navy Yard. The bluejackets firmly entrenched behind the gates knew that there could be not the slightest doubt about the outcome of the struggle. They were surrounded from all sides by an enemy infinitely superior in numbers and material, and succor from outside was out of the question. Yet a proud feeling filled them all. Little over three years before, on April 9, 1940, they had been forced to witness the hereditary enemy of Denmark disembark and overrun the country without being allowed to fire a shot. The courageous and prolonged fight their Norwegian brethren had put up in a nearly as hopeless situation had left a rankling sore in the hearts of the Danish sailors and soldiers. “Why were we not allowed to fight, too?” They well knew the answer: the tiny Danish fleet was not meant for combat. It was, just as the token army, more of a neutrality police than a defense force. Denmark is simply not large enough to allow for any defense in depth. Government and Parliament had, in consideration of this geographical fact in the period between the world wars, abandoned the idea of defending the country in case of an attack and favored instead the Luxembourg solution from World War I: protest, but no active resistance.
This time, however, the situation was different. And the orders were in concurrence. The little selected force which defended the gates with rifles, grenades, and light machine guns against mortars, flamethrowers, and field artillery knew that its defense was not only symbolical but that it had a concrete task to accomplish: to delay the Germans long enough so that the various ships in the harbor would have time to do their part of the common program. What this part was became obvious to everyone who was able to read the code of the Danish Navy: the very moment the fighting began, the Commander in Chief of the fleet, Rear Admiral Vedel, had run up this signal on the main of his flagship, the 40-year-old coast defense vessel Peder Skram: “Scuttle or escape to Sweden.”
The fighting around the gates was already a full-fledged combat when the Danes got relief from a side they had not expected. A German auxiliary cruiser moored in another part of the port had opened up against the defenders of the gates, when German Army units that seemed to know very little about ship identification began a devastating fire against their own vessel just as a landing party was about to be disgorged. Actually, the landing party was driven off by German fire under the cheers of the Danish sailors, and the ship withdrew to a safer part of the harbor.
In the meantime, Danish naval craft were sinking all over the harbor. Two explosions burst open the armor of the Peder Skram, and within two minutes the ship had settled in the shallow waters of the harbor. Other vessels capsized or settled on the bottom with masts and bridge above water while ammunition depots blew up and storehouses were set ablaze. Such ships as had managed to get up steam tried to escape but only a few succeeded in getting through the German blockade of the narrow exits of the outer port. One of the craft had caught fire and drifted blazingly across the inlet, making it still more difficult for the other ships to get out. One of the few ships which managed to reach a neutral Swedish port was a torpedo boat, in which the crew had cut off the masts and used camouflage during the night to make it difficult for the Germans to identify the craft. In a few cases explosives failed to go off, but their crew sank them anyhow by opening the seacocks. One submarine established a record by scuttling within 45 seconds. One of the few storehouses which fell into German hands undamaged contained dismantled parts of obsolete seaplanes. That was not much of a gain, but the score was settled anyhow one month later, when Danish saboteurs set fire to the building and burned it down to the ground, stores and all.
When the Germans saw that they were delayed by the fierce defense of the entrance, they tried to trick the defenders into submission by threatening to shoot five Danes for every German casualty, but the savage threat failed completely. The Danes just went on shooting. Finally, they surrendered under the threat of heavy artillery bombardment, but by that time practically all vessels had sunk. The valiant defenders had accomplished their mission.
Most vessels of the Danish Navy were thus destroyed in Copenhagen, the only Danish naval base. The few ships not in port received the order to scuttle or escape over the radio and used their steam immediately to set the course for Swedish waters. But most of these ships were intercepted by superior German naval or air forces. One of these vessels was the largest unit of the fleet, the 4,000-ton coast defense ship Niels Juel, built during World War I and commanded by a well-known Danish naval officer, Captain C. Westermann. One of the bluejackets aboard has given in a letter the following dramatic account of the end of this gallant ship, and of the only naval action the Danish fleet had occasion to fight during this war. It gives a good picture of the spirit of the Danish Navy.
August 27th we had called at Holbaek and were supposed to stay over Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. I had leave from Sunday, 9:00 P.M. and intended to take a trip home. We understood that something was wrong because nobody got liberty Friday night, and I figured I had to give up the idea of going home. Friday night at 11:00 P.M. orders were given to fire up under all boilers and to prepare to leave port any minute- Rumors went wild all over the ship and Saturday afternoon two of our men went up to the commander, Captain Westermann, and requested an explanation. We were told that we were supposed to defend ourselves with all means if necessary. So we knew that this was it. We reinforced all watches, and when I had to go on watch at 4:00 A.M.. nobody doubted any longer that something would happen. I served as messenger for the Captain and I had just brought him a message when he came out to the commander of the watch and gave the order “Clear ship for action.” Within a moment all guns were manned.
It was pitch dark, but it did not last long until all was in readiness and with the first sign of dawn breaking, we left the pier. I had managed to get a letter on shore which I had written the evening before. In it I had given an account of the situation. Little did I expect to see any of you again. It seemed to me that there was only one way out. To try to escape to Sweden or fight until the ship sank.
It was a gray morning with low-hanging clouds. We were looking out sharply for enemy planes. The tug which had towed us lowered the flag and everybody aboard took off their hats as we passed by.
We sighted a German plane at the horizon but it disappeared soon. We hoisted ammunition up to the big guns on our way out. While sailing through the Isefjord, coffee was brought up to us. Nothing was rationed any longer and we distributed all our cigarettes among the gun crews. Morale was high and everybody was in good spirits in spite of the seriousness of the situation.
After having traveled for half an hour, orders were given for action stations. The enemy had been sighted off Hundested, one heavy cruiser and two destroyers. We were out of range, as yet, but everything was being prepared. Their superiority was definite but we had to engage them and we wanted to.
We were right off the pier of Hundested when one of our mine-sweepers signaled that the enemy had mined the entrance of the firth all night long. From the bridge we were told that we would try to force the barrage some 400 meters from land and hold our course. Only a moment later, we saw bombers circling around us at proper distances but we could not see how many there were as they kept flying in and out of the clouds. Suddenly a Heinkels dived on us, strafing our deck with cannon fire. A few were wounded. The plane disappeared in a jiffy, but by now we were all set. The next one got a hot welcome and was shot down. The next again dropped two heavy bombs which narrowly missed our quarter-deck, while a couple of others strafed our deck with cannon. It was almost unbearable. Shell fragments and projectiles kept on whizzing around us. It was hardly believable that so few of us were killed or wounded. One howled terribly, another was taken down to the sickbay on a stretcher unconscious. A mate came running along and told me that warrant officer Andreasen was killed. He was gun captain of an anti-aircraft gun. The gun had been hit and the crew had taken cover. I ran up there right away and found him lying on the platform. I thought him dead but suddenly he moved and groaned. At that moment, two planes dived and opened fire. That was the only time I got the chills. There was no cover so I flung myself down and grasped Andreasen’s hand. The poor soul yelled when they started shooting. He had been hit in the belly and was scared. A big iron splinter struck off the platform. The whole deck was desolate, only the gun captains had taken cover behind the rail after sending their crews down. Only the anti-aircraft guns remained manned but, of course, they were the only ones which had something to harvest.
When the planes had gone, another warrant officer came and got Andreasen down. In the meantime, however, the captain had received orders to go back: the enemy ships had been reinforced.
Then came the stukas.
They came howling and screaming from ’way up high and let go their bombs. The detonation seemed to be right under us and we jumped up into the air. All lights in the whole ship went out, and we discovered a leak in the port coal bunkers. The bunker door in the deck was flung up, and people on land told us later that the only thing visible of the whole ship was the stem. It was probably two 250-kilo bombs. Now we set the course toward land for full speed and prepared to abandon ship. The Diesel engines were smashed and we had to pack the most necessary things in complete darkness. When we took the ground, foot valves were removed and thrown overboard and all suction valves were opened. The ship went down and sank deeply into the bottom.
Maybe the Germans will manage to get the vessel afloat but everything aboard ship is destroyed and it will never be a ship again. [Actually the Germans did manage to get Niels Juel off the ground. She is now used to harbor bombed-out civilians in Hamburg.]
We would not have been able to reach the open sea. Strong naval forces were waiting for us and four squadrons of planes were pitted against us. We sang the royal anthem with the water clucking right under the armored deck and with the ugliness of destruction right in our eyes. We cheered the captain and went to our quarters.
They came during the night, and the next morning we all were chased up on deck. A sailor showed them the way down to the captain. He was sitting at his desk with two candles serving as the only light. He did not move until a Fregattenkapitän banged his heels together and addressed him. At 7:00 A.M. we were assembled on the quarter-deck in pouring rain. The captain came up in dress uniform and medals. He was very much moved, tears rolling down his cheeks. He said: “I have orders to surrender the ship and strike the colors now at seven o’clock. Our enemies take over the ship. They are our enemies now after this assault.” He spoke well. Then the ensign was lowered. Not one eye was dry. We sang the royal anthem and were dismissed.
We left the ship honorably. We were vanquished but not without combat. We had downed several planes. The score of April 9 had been settled with our blood.
Even a couple of other craft showed that the Danish naval tradition from the days of the seventeenth century when Niels Juel and Peder Tordenskjold battled the Swedish fleets was still alive. The small old torpedo boat Havørnen was in the port of Korsør on Sunday of the “Toulon” of the Danish Fleet. She tried to sneak out of the harbor but was sighted and pursued by a German destroyer. The situation was pretty hopeless but Havørnen’s captain managed to draw the pursuer on to a reef in the shallow waters of the Great Belt and to finish him off with a couple of torpedoes. Meanwhile, other German ships had appeared, so Havørnen was set aground and the ship was abandoned under heavy German fire.
The strangest incident, however, took place in the fishery inspection vessel Hvidbjørnen. She had for some reason failed to receive the “escape or scuttle” order and was taken by surprise by superior German forces in the Great Belt. The Germans boarded the ship, disarmed the crew, hoisted the German naval ensign, and set course for a German port. The Danish prisoners had assembled on the quarter-deck, their captain among them. Suddenly, the captain pulled out his watch, gazed at it for a while and then shouted the order “Abandon ship.” To the amazement of the Germans the prisoner- sailors jumped overboard to a man. The Germans seized rifles and manned machine guns to shoot after the fleeing sailors when the Danish captain calmly said: “You had better look after yourselves. She will blow up in a second.” The Germans became panicky and jumped too. A few moments later, a time bomb actually exploded in the foreship. As she listed, a Danish sailor appeared as if from nowhere, leapt to the flagstaff and hauled down the Swastika, replacing it with the Dannebrog. The Hvidbjørnen went down flying the red-white ensign of the Royal Danish Navy.
This was the final score of the Danish Toulon: 29 ships sunk or damaged beyond repair; 13, mostly auxiliary small craft, managed to get away to Sweden and were interned there; 6 fell into German hands.
The Danish Navy ceased to exist. But its spirit lived on, as soon was shown by the ever increasing sabotage acts which were carried out partly by former naval personnel. Some few months later, foundation was laid for a new Danish Navy when the British Admiralty manned a couple of minesweepers with Danish crews and in acknowledgment of the efforts of the Danes for the cause of the United Nations allowed these ships to hoist the Danish naval flag side by side with the white ensign of the Royal Navy.