THE HARBOUR CALLED MULBERRY

New Zealand Listener, Volume 13, Issue 323, 31 August 1945, Page 6

THE HARBOUR CALLED MULBERRY

An Extraordinary Story Is Told In An Extraordinary Way

N D-Day, July 6, 1944, British engineering completed one of its most remarkable feats-two prefabricated harbours, each capable of handling supplies as easily as a good natural port, were towed across the Channel and put together under fire on the beaches of France. The story behind that amazing plan goes back to 1940, and involves thousands of men. It was such an extraordinary story that it really needed to be told in an extraordinary way. The BBC undertook this, and in March of this year broadcast a documentary programme lasting nearly an hour and a-half, which dramatised the story of "The Harbour Called Mulberry," from the moment (at the time of Dunkirk) when it was no more than a feeling of determination to return, up to the day-D plus 16-when the worst summer storm for 40 years was subsiding, and one half of the construction, Mulberry B, had withstood it.

ECORDS of "The Harbour Called Mulberry," have been sent by the BBC to the NBS, and will be heard from 2YA on Monday, September 3, starting at 7.30 p.m. The programme is in three parts (1) "The Harbour is Planned"; (2) "The Harbour is Built"; (3) "The Harbour in Being." It was written and produced by Cecil McGivern, and incidental music was written specially for it by Walter Goehr. The Admiralty, the War Office, the Ministries of Supply, Labour, and War ‘Transport, and the Films Division of the Ministry of Information all co-operated with the BBC in the production. The narrator is Valentine Dyall, who at times explains, at other times is almost a part of the cast, throwing out questions to the workers, inventors, and soldiers, and at other times again is simply a declamatory voice placing words in a rhythmical pattern with the incidental music. Its Hero Is Not a Man As the narrator will tell listeners (in the words of Cecil McGivern), " ‘The Harbour Called Mulberry’ is the story of the growth of an idea, of the clothing of that idea in steel, and of its fulfilment." The real men who played their parts in the original drama are unnamed, "because the hero of this story is not a man." Yet in the drama which the BBC has made, men emerge as living characters-War Office experts, Second Front "agitators" whose voices float in through the War Office windows, foremen on concreting jobs, commandos returning from raids, workers who have been dragged far from their homes to do the unskilled work-all these are brought to life by a highly skilled acting cast, and worked closely into a fast-moving script. "A Magnificent Job" Martin Armstrong, one of: the independent critics writing for the BBC Listener on broadcast programmes, de-

scribed how he listened: to "The Harbour Called Mulbérry" with misgivings, remembering his "inability to stomach those large dramatisations of great events with which the BBC occasionally indulges us." But, he says, he expected the worst and got the best. "Cecil McGivern, who wrote and directed it, has certainly done a magnificent job," Armstrong said. "The story covered the whole scheme from the first tentative discussions down to the carrying out of the great venture on D-Day and the subsequent gale that put it to its supreme test, and the incidents and scenes were so skilfully chosen, written, and linked together by the narrative. that the story forged ahead not only without a hitch, but with perfect coherence and a_ steadily-growing interest. Even’ my pet aversion, the incidental music, seemed to me to be in place here, and, besides, good in itself ... it is a first-rate historical document, besides

being a thrilling drama-dquite the best thing of its kind I have heard." In the Beginning This story of the growth of an idea starts where you might expect it to start-with a British Tommy remarking at Dunkirk: "We’re out-right out-but one day, we'll go back, as sure as God made little apples." Then you hear about the commando raid on Guernsey, when a dinghy overturned on the way ‘back to the launch and one commando and precious Bren guns were lost in the surf: "The surf creaming on the yellow sand, looking lovely, and gentle, but behind it-the terrible strength of the sea." It was there that someone realised how much would have to be learnt about beach landings. And while the Germans age deciding that without first taking a port the English cannot threaten invasion of the | Continent, sone English engineer is on his way to Whitehall to deal with "port reconstruction and repair’-to think out ways of restoring the wreckage the Germans will leave when eventually it is possible to capture a port. As 1941 goes by, some lessons are learnt. A raid on the Lofoten Islands in March leads to ideas for the design of LCA’s-Assault Landing Craft. Study of the weather indicates that the odds are two to one against, for any given attempt. Commando reports suggest that with adequate naval and air support a

small port could be taken and held. But could the Continent be invaded on a large scale? The problem grows with the New Year, and in 1942 the experts wonder whether and how a major assault could take place. Meanwhile the Germans decide to concentrate forces in the ports. Then comes another experiment. At 1.34 a.m. on March 28 H.M.S. Campbelltown is exploded at St. Nazaire, 400 Germans are killed, and a drydock is closed by the wreck. The scene changes to a Conference Room in Whitehall. The experts are piling up the butts of nervously smoked cigarettes in the ashtrays. Could Antwerp be taken? Army: with air cover, yes. Air Force: no fighter cover could be given. Antwerp is too far away. Could a landing be made in the Pas de Calais area? Air Force: yes, air cover possible. Navy: yes, quite practicable. Army: im-possible-the perimeter would require 50 divisions. The P.M.’s Memo Then comes Mr. Churchill’s now famous memorandum, suggesting an investigation of the possibilities of using piers on beaches-piers that might float up and down on the tide, that could be anchored, that could roll, expand, and contract. And 1942 ends with only one decision made, and that a negative one -no invasion this year. But an idea has been born. ; In 1943, there is the experiment with bubble breakwaters, and a trial with the "lilo scheme"-inflated rubber bags to break the waves. In April comes the tryout of "Winnie," a floating pier 480ft. long, with "spuds," spikes that are pushed down to rest on the bottom. "Winnie" withstands a violent storm in a remote Scottish bay, twisting and bending, rolling, but surviving. So the decision is made, and the planning of a gigantic undertaking begins. The Work Begins A 50-mile stretch of beach for D-Day is chosen in secret, and it is proposed to make two "Mulberries" — one for the Americans, and one for the British troops-two harbours the size of Dover (which took seven years to build), 50,000 tons of steel, when every ton is precious, 15 miles of piers, causeways, and breakwaters, needing thousands of tons of cement, and all to be built in six months. Code names are chosen for the different parts of Mulberry so that it can all be talked about and written about and even those who are doing the work won’t know the secret. (continued on next page)

(continued from previous page) Workers must be got. They are combed from far and near. Leaving home is a wrench for them. Heavy work is a strain, since a great many of them are unfit. Scotsmen, Welshmen, Irishmen, North Country men come south. Some bring wives and children, though they were not supposed to. In all, 20,000 of them are gathered in, pouring concrete, bending steel bars. One hundred and forty-six caissons, each as big as a block of flats, must be constructed. Bridge-units for causeways must be made by the dozen. The rate of completion is slow at first, but it improves. The men "have everything bar ’ousemaid’s knee," but they also have a will to do the work, even though constant speculation and head-scratching fails to reveal what they are making. A bridge across the Channel? Things to block enemy harbours? Fuel stores for midAtlantic? But still no one discovers.

Most important, not even the enemy. Caisson after caisson is launched with cheering into estuary or harbour, D-Day Itself At last-"It can start." June 6 comes. From horizon to horizon the sea is filled with south-seeking craft. The slow old blockships are given a start; 150 straining tugs bring the caissons. The LCA’s, faster, slip by to make the first attacks. "The beaches are won!" The whole armada knows. The blockships are settled in the right places by skilled seaman‘ship. The caissons are put in position. The pierheads, with their "spuds," are ranged in their rows. The bridge units are joined, making causeways from pierheads to land. "The stuff’s pouring ashore, sir!’ Twelve days pass. D-Day plus 13 is due. The glass is falling. At sunset, there are no gulls to be seen. The worst summer storm for 40 years is coming. D plus 14; pierheads are breaking loose.

The bigger ships are dragging their anchors. D plus 15: waves are 15ft. high, 300ft. long. Mulberry A, where the Americans are, is "nearly finished." The beaches are littered with dead men, caissons. The blockships have their backs broken. D plus 16: the storm is going down a little, and everyone is exhausted. But Mulberry B remains, for it was partly sheltered by a reef. And on D plus 28, the millionth man goes ashore on the Continent of Europe.