Curious onlookers began to drift towards the dock entrance to view the damage. Orders had been given to cordon off the area, but they were ignored. The explosives in Campbeltown’s bow were so well hidden no one discovered the real reason for the visit of His Majesty’s forces. Visiting admirals and generals, with their French mistresses in tow, waved off posted guards to take a look. Sub commanders, gun position officers and their lady friends arrived to look around. Local dockyard workers and townspeople, feeling it was safe to venture out after the night’s gun battle, thronged around the old destroyer, gawking at the wreckage. Souvenir-hunters clambered all over the old ship like insects, stepping gingerly over the fallen heroes, slipping on the gory, blood-soaked deck.
An ignominious end to an illustrious career as a feared sea hunter. But she had done her job. Her payload was in the perfect position. She had one more card to play.
Suddenly, a titanic explosion shook the whole town, blowing out windows and flattening all the small sheds and buildings in the immediate area.Campbeltown gave up the ghost. With a massive roar of farewell, an hour later than planned, the four tons of explosive ordnance stored in her bowels erupted. Shards of glass, gravel, roofing tiles, hunks of wood from nearby wharfs and bits of Campbeltown’s super structure blew in all directions. It was like shrapnel from a live grenade and rained down on roads and building roofs for a radius of a mile.
On board ship, tens, if not hundreds of Germans, their guests and townspeople were blown into oblivion. The grisly aftermath of the explosion saw human body parts hanging from telephone lines, cranes and masts of nearby ships. Blobs of human entrails plastered the walls of nearby buildings.
The force of the explosion split the old ship in two, the front end blown to pieces and the stern lifted clear of the water. Beneath her, the lock door on which her bow sat disintegrated. The rush of river water roared into the empty lock. The remains of the dock door and the carcass of the old ship slid into the Normandie Lock, knocking aside two German tankers awaiting maintenance there.
A column of acrid black smoke from Campbeltown climbed to the heavens, marking her final combat sortie. She had gone out in style. Stunned survivors, some wounded by falling debris, stood mutely looking at the wreckage. Surviving commandos, now prisoners of war, hearing the shattering roar, grinned broadly. Mission accomplished!
REVIEW:
“If you’re a World War 11 history buff, or even vaguely interested, especially in the European theater, you need to read Black Ops, volume 1, and/or Black Ops, volume 2. The war itself has been documented and written in great detail. The part that is much less known is the great sacrifices of the secret agents of US, British, and French decent who were dropped on beaches, or parachuted into France to work with brave members of the French resistance. The sacrifices of these people are at times difficult to comprehend, except for their willingness to give their lives for their country. These are truly heart-wrenching stories!” — Jerry F., Seattle, Washington