This is another barnstorming book from James Holland, and although it has been out for a while, it seemed appropriate to read it this year, with it being 80 years since Guy Gibson and his comrades launched their famous raid to destroy the Ruhr Dams. As expected, if you have read any of his other non-fiction, this book combines meticulous research and analysis, a keen eye for interesting and illustrative personal stories, and an accessible and entertaining writing style. I wouldn’t categorise it as revisionist, but James does seek to add a fresh perspective to the surprisingly sparse number of books written about Operation Chastise. It also picks up on a contention that he (correctly) makes in many of his books, that the Allied approach to fighting the war was both reasonable and effective, and that their performance on the battlefield was better than how it is often perceived in the popular imagination. As such, he stands within the ranks of a group of Second World War historians who are seeking to push back against a declinist view, particularly of the British (or more correctly, DUKE) forces throughout the Second World War.
With such a well-known story, it is hard to cut through the layers of myth and misconception, but James does that very effectively here. One aspect of the Dams story where he applies a corrective is in the common notion of Barnes Wallis as a bumbling boffin, a lone voice against an uncomprehending RAF bureaucracy. While there is some merit in the latter (though even this requires much more nuance), the former is wholly incorrect. As he explains, “Wallis had always been a deep thinker and a particularly inventive engineer…although first impressions may have suggested he was the archetypal absent-minded professor, nothing could have been further from the truth. Wallis had a brain that was both highly organised and pragmatic. He was a brilliant mathematician and draughtsman, and something of a perfectionist - a man who could remember figures and details with extraordinary precision. He also possessed steely resolve and determination; after all, this was a man who never went to university, who learned many of his skills through experience and huge amounts of dedicated hard work, and who later completed a degree, in his spare time, in three months. Learned and widely read, through his combination of talent, brains, hard graft and determination, he had become one of Britain’s best-regarded aircraft designers.” Wallis was also a highly effective networker with a wide range of connections that he could and did leverage to complement his areas of expertise. In the context of the Dams raid, his thinking had led him to a startling conclusion: “that the key to ending the war was to take out Germany’s power source. If its coal mines, oil depots, hydro-electric stations and water supplies – or ‘white coal’– could be destroyed, then there would be no war industry. With no war industry, Germany would no longer be able to wage war.” Wallis saw this as a much more efficient use of air power, but it lay beyond both the limits of current technology and weaponry and the operational capability of the RAF. The story of overcoming the former is, of course, the story of the development of the Upkeep bouncing bomb. The latter is intimately connected to the forming of 617 squadron, and that is the second area where Holland seeks to peel away layers of misconception.
Foremost among these is the idea that what the RAF needed was an elite squadron that could achieve feats of flying that others simply couldn’t. The reality was a need for a switch in emphasis, and a willingness to try something that didn’t align with Harris’s priorities for the bomber offensive. As James rightly points out, “Far from the special squadron being made up from volunteers and ‘special’, highly experienced crews, Gibson and Whitworth, in their desperation to stick to the strict timetable set for them, were now accepting crews with way, way less than the minimum requirement of operations. Whether this would come back to haunt them later, only time would tell.” This, rather than 617 being an elite squadron, is the most remarkable part of their story: the whole raid was a massive race against time, with untried technology and mostly untried crews. I hadn’t appreciated the extent to which the whole lead-up to the raid was rushed, with only a single live Upkeep being dropped in advance and with many of the crews never even having dropped a dummy. Describing the raid itself is where James truly hits his stride, and the jeopardy, danger and fear faced by the crews come across palpably in his writing. Rather than 617 being an elite who had skills that other squadrons lacked, the main requirement was for strong leadership and determination to see through a difficult and unprecedented mission. This is reflected in the massive casualties suffered, even by the standards of Bomber Command in 1943, with 8 of the 19 crews failing to return. And while the ‘big bomb’ principle would be taken forward by Barnes Wallis with new designs, Upkeep would never be used again, and the naval Highball variant was never used operationally at all. Ironically, it is 617 squadron who developed into a truly elite squadron under Leonard Cheshire, and who would become even more famous for their raids using the Grand Slam and Tallboy ‘earthquake’ bombs designed by Wallis - one of which was the successful sinking of the original Highball target, the Tirpitz.
The final misconception that James addresses, and the one where he comes closest to being a revisionist, is in the question of the legacy of Operation Chastise - and in this, he makes a simple and very valid point. It is wrongheaded to look at how quickly the dams were repaired and conclude that the raid was therefore futile; rather, the importance of the dams means that repairing them was a priority, and resources were redirected accordingly. He comments that, “If as much energy had been put into building the Atlantic Wall as had been dedicated to reconstruction work on the dams and in the Ruhr, the Allied invasion of June the following year might not have been so successful. As it was, Rommel’s defences were still woefully inadequate. The cost of repairing the damage wrought by the Dams Raid of 16/ 17 May 1943 was absolutely enormous – psychologically, materially, logistically and financially. It was also one the Germans simply could not afford. In no way should the achievement of the extraordinary Dams Raid ever be belittled.” The point is a good one - the effort expended on repairing the dams (and on defending both them and similar installations across the Reich) was badly needed elsewhere. Given that this level of devastation was caused by a single raid by a single squadron, it emphasises Chastise as a striking application of the principle of ‘steel not flesh’. While he acknowledges the missed opportunity of utilising follow-up raids to disrupt the repair efforts, James also highlights three main problems caused by the Chastise raid itself: “First, there was the material damage. Factories, bridges, railways, buildings and, of course, the dam itself would all have to be replaced…Second, there was the water shortage. Water was needed both as a power source and for the extraction of coal…and for cooling in other industrial processes. Water was also greatly needed for drinking and sanitation - without it the area’s large population would ultimately die or become diseased - and for the fire services. Third was the issue of manpower…the Allied bombing campaign had left many dead, wounded and homeless, which in turn meant there were fewer people to go down mines or work in factories.”
Finally, the conclusions he draws are compelling:
“Despite the failure to destroy the Sorpe, there is no question that the raid was a phenomenal achievement. It was true that the squadron had accrued around 2,000 training hours, but, really, the preparation was decidedly patchy in parts. Only one, lone live Upkeep had been dropped before the raid; half the crews had never even dropped an inert one. That they should have been expected to head over enemy-occupied territory to drop a weapon that had been dropped once before by some and by many not at all is astonishing…Barnes Wallis has often been portrayed as a lone voice desperately arguing his case in the face of a wall of po-faced bureaucracy, but this was hardly the case. That Operation CHASTISE ever happened at all is testimony to the many people from different services and from different ministries and departments who helped support his idea and who ensured it bore fruit…It has been argued that the lasting effects of the Dams Raid were minimal because they were rebuilt so quickly. This, however, is to look at it the wrong way round: they would not have been rebuilt so quickly or at so much cost had they not been important targets. The tragedy is that the post-war downplaying of their importance affected the way those who flew on the raid viewed what they had done.”
This book is a worthy addition to the vast quantity of literature on the Second World War and is a timely reminder of the astonishing achievement of Operation Chastise. As well as a riveting account of the Dams raid itself, the background on the scientific effort to develop Upkeep, the political wrangling to ensure the raid went ahead, and the perspective of some of the survivors who lived through it are all fascinating. This is a first-class piece of narrative history, and well worth your time to read.
P.S. My only quibble, and it is a minor one, is with one stylistic decision. I found the method of repetition used to make an emphatic point to be a bit irritating (the timing was going to be close. Very close indeed.) It’s not something I’ve noticed in any of his other books, and certainly not in his more recent ones, but it was quite annoying here!