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World War II
A Narrative History


"Mission to Norway"
(1940)
Gen. Sir Adrian Carton de Wiart
Happy Odyssey (1950)

German troops on the move in Norway
Swedish iron ore, essential to the German war machine, was transported through Norway, and early on, as First Lord of the Admiralty, Winston Churchill urged action to cut off that supply. Well aware of the importance of Norway, Hitler launched an invasion in April 1940. Gen. Carton de Wiart's excerpt illustrates the poor planning and confused strategy that plagued the Allies in the early days of the war ....
Shortly after the Germans made their first landing in Norway, we responded by a gallant failure at Narvik. In the middle of one night there was a telephone message for me to report to the War Office. It dawned on me the reason might be Norway, as I had never been there and knew nothing about it. Norway it was, and I was ordered to go there immediately to take command of the Central Norwegian Expeditionary Force. Unfortunately, I was not to take my own division, the 61st, for the Force was to consist of a brigade and some odd troops sent from Northern Command, together with a French force composed of Chasseurs Alpins under General Audet. These troops were to proceed to Namsos.
Having got my orders, I collected my kit and flew up to Scotland the next day, 13 April. We were to fly across to Norway the same night but were delayed by a blizzard, and took off next morning in a Sunderland.
....We reached Namsos in the evening and started to disembark troops at once. It was soon evident that the officers had little experience in handling men, although they had a first-class commander in Brigadier G.P. Phillips.
In Norway, at that time of year, there were only about three hours of darkness, and landing troops with the whole country under snow, and a vigilant and attentive enemy, was no easy matter.
The troops were only too anxious to do what they were told, and to be quick about it, and it says much for them that not only did they succeed in landing, but they completely obliterated all traces of their landing. The Germans who flew over the next morning suspected nothing.
My orders were to take Trondheim whenever a naval attack took place. The date was unnamed but I moved my troops up to Verdael and Steinjaer (both near Trondheim), from where I would lose no time in synchronizing with the naval attack when it came.
The following night we had to land French troops -- the Chasseurs Alpins under General Audet. Although far better trained than we were, and experienced at looking after themselves, they did not obliterate the traces of their landings. The next morning the Germans saw that troops had been put ashore, and the French made themselves still more noticeable by loosing off their machine-guns at them, which succeeded in making matters worse. The Germans responded by more and more bombs, and in a matter of hours Namsos was reduced to ashes. The casualties were not heavy, as by that time my troops were all forward, and the French were bivouacked outside the town....
The French Chasseurs Alpins were a fine body of troops and would have been ideal for the job in hand, but ironically they lacked one or two essentials, which made them completely useless to us. I had wanted to move them forward, but General Audet regretted they had no means of transport, as their mules had not turned up. Then I suggested that his ski-troops might move forward, but it was found that they were lacking some essential strap for their skis, without which they were unable to move. Their other equipment was excellent .... They would have been invaluable to us if only I could have used them.
....The Hun bombers destroyed our small landing-stage. They had the time of their lives with no opposition whatsoever. Some of the ships carried A.A. guns, and a few days before the evacuation I was sent some Bofors guns. The Bofors never actually shot down a Hun plane, but they managed to disconcert them and had a nuisance value, at the same time giving us a fillip at being able to shoot at them.
On one of our more hopeful days an aircraft carrier miraculously cleared the skies of German planes and stayed several hours, but as there were German submarines about it was not able to remain close to the land, and had to go out to sea again where some of the planes could not return to it.
My headquarters in Namsos was one of the few houses to escape destruction, but after the bombardment I moved out to a small farm on the south side of the River Namsen, where we not bothered much by the enemy, and it was easier for me to get to the front-line troops.
Two or three days after we had occupied Steinjaer and Verdael, about forty or fifty miles south of Namsos, the German Navy gained its one and only victory of the war, for their destroyers came up Trondheim Fjord and shelled my troops out of these two places. We had rifles, a few Bren guns and some 2-inch smoke bombs, but none of them were either comforting or effective against a destroyer.
The troops at Verdael had a particularly bad time. The road ran through the town on the shore of the fjord in full view of the ships, and the troops had to take to the snow-covered hills ... only to be attacked by German ski-troops. There is no doubt that not many of them would have survived had it not been for the handling of the situation by Brigadier Phillips.
We retired to positions north of Steinjaer and out of reach of the German naval guns, and it was not surprising that the population in these small towns lived in deadly terror of our arrival ....
Still I waited for news of our naval attack which was to be my signal to take Trondheim, but still it did not come. Hourly it became more and more obvious to me that with my lack of equipment I was quite incapable of advancing on Trondheim, and could see very little point in remaining in that part of Norway sitting out like rabbits in the snow. I wired the War Office to tell them my conclusions, only to get back the reply that for political reasons they would be glad if I could maintain my positions. I agreed, but said that it was about all I could do. They were so relieved that they actually wired me their thanks.
....About this time a complete staff turned up, but I was not very pleased to see them. They took up a lot of unavailable space, there was not much for them to do ... [and] I felt that soon we would be all staff and no war.
During the last few days I was offered more men. Lack of accommodation and the fact that my only line of communication was a single road and a small railway line functioning spasmodically forced me to refuse them. They were the type of troops that I should have been delighted to have under me, for they were Poles and the French Foreign Legion, but if I had accepted them it would have made evacuation still more difficult.
Several staff officers were sent over in the role of liaison officers, but I don't think they cared much about the job, for they seemed very intent on departing as soon as they could. One of them was particularly amusing; he was so anxious that his plane should not go off without him that he thought he would like to go sit quite near it in a sloop which was in the fjord. A Hun promptly dropped a bomb on the sloop and sank it, but the gallant officer was not drowned and made a safe return to England, where his report must have been illuminating.
My farmhouse headquarters provided us with some amusement and excitement from the air. My new staff had not seen these air antics played by the Hun, and were startled one day when a German plane came down the road, flying very low and machine-gunning us. It is a most unnerving and unpleasant sensation to be peppered at from a plane bearing straight down on one, and takes a lot of getting used to.
Just as we had settled to an uneventful routine with my troops in their new positions, wires started to flash to and from the War Office. First to evacuate, then to hold on, then to evacuate, then suddenly it was suggested that I should retire on Mosjoen, about a hundred miles north of Namsos. I knew the road to be covered in deep snow and impassable for infantry, and I could see no point in the move and wired the War Office to that effect....
More orders came to evacuate, and this time I started to set about it. General Audet came to see me and begged me not to leave his troops until last when the hour came to embark. He seemed much moved, and on my assuring him that not a single British soldier would be embarked until every Frenchman was on board ship, I had a narrow escape from being embraced and was told that I was un vrai gentleman.
Gradually we retired toward Namsos, where we were to embark. The evacuation was to take place on two consecutive nights. I intended sending the French troops off the first night, and they had all gone down at dusk to be ready to embark. We waited -- no ships turned up. There was no word from the Navy, and I must admit to feeling anxious. Just before dawn I had to move the troops up into their positions again, leaving them, depressed and disappointed, to await another night.
....In the course of that last endless day I got a message from the Navy to say that they would evacuate the whole of my force that night. I thought it was impossible, but learned a few hours later that the Navy do not know the word.
Apparently there was a dense sea mist quite unsuspected by us on shore, and this had prevented their coming in the night before, but Lord Mountbatten managed to feel his way into the harbour, and the other ships followed him in. It was a tremendous undertaking to embark that whole force in a night of three short hours, but the Navy did it and earned my undying gratitude.
As day was breaking the Germans spotted us leaving the fjord and bombed us heavily. We lost the Afridi and a French destroyer and I lost my chance of being sunk. Having known the Afridi so well I asked to go on board, but had been told she was not coming in that night. When I found that she had come in after all I asked again to go in her, only to be told that my kit had been put on the York and it would be best for me to go in her instead. I did, and missed a very great experience. Unfortunately, the wounded from the French destroyer had been put on board the Afridi and nearly all of them were drowned.
On my sixtieth birthday, 5 May, we arrived back at Scapa Flow exactly eighteen days after we had set forth. Captain Portal, who commanded the York, thought it was a most fitting occasion for a bottle of champagne. He must have known that to me the taste is extra good after a surgical operation or a major disaster.
Happy Odyssey is out of print but available from ABEBOOKS
 Bren light machine-gun

The Bren Gun was a development of the original Czech ZB vz.26 light machine-gun, but the development was one that involved as much British as Czech expertise. During the 1920s the British army sought far and wide for a new type of light machine-gun to replace the generally unsatisfactory Lewis Gun .... By 1930 a series of trials commenced ... [and] the ZB vz.27 emerged as clear winner ... but it was made in 7.92-mm (0.31-in) calibre only, and the British wanted to retain its 7.7-mm (0.303-in) cartridge with its outdated cordite propellant and its awkward rimmed case .... Then came the vz.33 and it was from this that the Royal Small Arms Factory at Enfield Lock evolved the prototype of what became the bren Gun (Bren from the BR of Brno, the place of origin, and EN from Enfield Lock). Tooling up at Enfield lock resulted in the first production Bren Gun Mk 1 being turned out in 1937, and thereafter the type remained in production at Enfield and elsewhere until well after 1945. By 1940 well over 30,000 Bren Guns had been produced and the type was well established in service, but the result of Dunkirk not only supplied the Germans with a useful stock of Bren Guns ... and ammunition but also led to a greater demand to re-equip the British army.
The original design was thus much modified to speed up production, and new lines were established. The original gas-operated mechanism of the ZB design was retained and so was the breech locking system and the general appearance, but out went the rather complicated drum sights and extras such as the under-butt handle in the Bren Gun Mk 2. The tripod became much simpler but the curved box magazine of the 7.7-mm Bren was carried over ... and there was even a reversion to the 7.92-mm calibre when Brens were manufactured in Canada for the Chinese army.
The Bren Gun turned out to be a superb light machine-gun. It was robust, reliable, easy to handle and to maintain, and it was not too heavy for its role. It was also very accurate. In time a whole range of mountings and accessories was introduced, including some rather complex anti-aircraft mountings that included the Motley and the Gallows mounting. A 200-round drum was developed but little used, and various vehicle mountings were designed and introduced ....
Bren Light Machine-Gun Mk 1
Calibre: 7.7 mm (0.303 in)
Length: 1156 mm (45.5 in)
Weight: 10.03 kg (22.12 lb)
Muzzle velocity: 744 m (2,440 ft) per second
Rate of fire, cyclic: 500 rpm
Feed: 20-round box magazine
The Encyclopedia of Weapons of World War II, Bishop, ed. (1998)
 Carton de Wiart, Gen. Sir Adrian
(1880-1963) A winner of the Victoria Cross in World War I in which he was nine times wounded and lost a hand and an eye, Carton de Wiart was one of the most striking figures in the British Army. He is alleged to have provided the model for the flamboyant Ritchie-Hook in Evelyn Waugh's famous war novel, Men at Arms. He commanded the Central Norwegian Expeditionary Force in 1940, was taken prisoner in the Western Desert in 1941, was repatriated in 1943 for medical reasons and employed for the rest of the war as a special representative to Chiang Kai-shek by Winston Churchill of whom he was a special favorite.
Who was Who in World War II, Keegan, ed. (1978)