Tiddlers v. Tlrpitz

In the late autumn of 1941 a select group of British naval men, volunteers for a mission of danger and hardship, proceeded to a lonely country house and began a strange program of training.

Their quarters were purposely kept dank and moist. They ate miserable special diets of concentrated food. For weeks on end they disciplined themselves to work and live and spend drab hours in closetlike confinement.

Eventually they were introduced to the vehicles they were going to operate. They were British four-man midget submarines, designated as X-class boats. The men knew that once started on an assignment it would be physically impossible to lie down. No one could cook food; they would have to live on the beefed-up rations and drinks they took along. Censorship has cleared nothing on the X-boats sanitary arrangements; presumably the men had relief tubes like those provided for airplane pilots on long flights.

To Alten Fjord. Finally, in September last year, came the night when three X-boats (known to the Royal Navy as "Tiddlers") cruised off into the North Sea, After a voyage of nearly 1,000 miles they reached the mouth of Norway's Alten Fjord.

Then they started a hazardous 60-mile run up the fjord, delicately slipping by every known form of trap, net and guard until they reached the inner anchorage.

They nuzzled past more torpedo nets, pressed to within 200 yards of their quarry, the proud 45,000-odd-ton German super-battleship Tirpitz.

First the Tirpitz deck guards knew of the attack was when they saw periscopes breaking water off the beam. Hell broke loose in the fjord; guns thundered, a rain of rifle and machine-gun fire pattered on the small intruders.

But the Tiddlers' torpedoes had been well and truly aimed. As they struck home there was an enormous explosion; the majestic bulk of the battleship lifted several feet in the air. The Tirpitz sagged back into the water, buckled and pierced. She was no longer a fighting ship.

To Glory. The hail of German fire and depth charges made escape impossible. Lieuts. Basil C. G. Place and Donald Cameron got their crewmen out and scuttled their funny little boats. Most of them are now prisoners of war in Germany.

The full story of their incredible exploit was published, only last week, when the two commanders were awarded the coveted Victoria Cross. Of the third Tiddler, nothing is known, except that just after the Tirpitz was torpedoed a great explosion was heard farther down the highwalled fjord. Apparently, past the worst of the barriers, she and her gallant crew had found a mine.

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.