Battle of the Atlantic

This used to be the most secret place in Britain. A vital command

centre, protected by armed guards, hidden deep below the bustle of

Liverpool City Centre. And, indeed, during the Blitz, below the

wreckage of large chunks of it. Covered by the Official Secrets Act

until 1975, it didn't exist officially until then. Even today,

hundreds of Liverpudlians walk over it in the streets above, totally

unaware of what's beneath their feet. 70 years ago, this was simply

known as the Western Approaches Combined Headquarters. And it was

here, below reinforced ceilings and three foot thick walls, that

But to win wars, you need to win battles, and the story of The

Battle of the Atlantic was to prove to be the longest, deadliest and

most vital of them all. At stake, But this is also the story of this

river and its people, and their will to survive and win against all

the odds. Today marks the 70th anniversary of victory in the

Battle of the Atlantic. And the nation's eyes are on Liverpool. But

this will be the last official occasion those who lived through

those dark days will gather to remember. Many are now in their 90s

and too old to travel. Many of their stories remain forgotten or

I wonder how many people see this statue at the Pier Head and know

who this man was? His eyes stare out to sea, scanning the horizon.

In the war, he was searching for submarines. In peace, well, he's

now a resting place for local pigeons, and the occasional tourist

photograph. Every battle needs a hero and this man, Captain Frederic

John Walker, was that hero. The legend they called Johnnie Walker.

He was a leader, he didn't believe in anybody slacking, he didn't

believe of any enemies in the group. Whatever the decisive order was you

did it. You didn't question it. You just did it because you knew he had

conviction. Them ships, they worked together as a unit, one unit, one

leader and that was it. But at the start of the war he remained,

forgotten and largely ignored by the Admiralty. His time would come

later when be would be given command of an escort group of

fighting ships based in Liverpool. Ironically his speciality was anti-

submarine warfare and submarines were to be at the very heart of

The Battle began just eight hours after war was declared. The Athenia,

an unarmed passenger liner crowded with women and children, had left

Liverpool, hoping to reach the safety of Montreal. She was hit by

a single torpedo, and sank off the coast of Ireland. 98 passengers and

19 crew died. And on the first day of war, Germany begins her mass

murder at sea. The survivors of the Athenia land, living witnesses of

the horror of Nazi warfare. Sinking an unprotected ship was a deadly

warning of what was to come - the menace of the U-boat. The Battle of

Britain's hopes of winning the war depended on keeping open the vital

lifeline of supplies carried by ships from America and Canada to

Liverpool. It was a time of real crisis, every day the number of

hits on these vital convoys got worse and more and more ships

simply failed to get through. The early days of the war were to prove

a disaster for shipping and a triumph for the German submarine,

the U-boat. Early convoys would have little protection. By June

1940 200 allied ships had already Hit and run, the method of the U-

boat. No prisoners taken, just men, weeks adrift, dying of thirst.

Hauled by a torpedo, funk by shellfire or suck -- shellfire or

sat a light. Thousands of shipping destroyed each month and thousands

of good men lost. Vivienne Brooke was a Wren from Liverpool,

monitoring the convoys losses as part of a secret unit based in the

Liver Buildings. She used these wooden models of boats to chart

their progress. By the end of the crossing many of these models would

be swept off the board. By the time they got into British waters, they

were limping very badly, some of them. And by the time they came

into Liverpool waters and into our plot there would perhaps only be

three left of 20. And it was a very sad sight to see them limping in

after all that voyage across the Atlantic. On Merseyside 10,000

local men volunteered to join the Merchant Navy. It was a perilous

task. Life expectancy was lower than the armed forces, and your pay

stopped if your ship was sunk. Many were just teenagers, seeing sights

that still haunt them to this day. I was 19 years of age then and they

were... You'd see men diving over the side of the ships, and they are

diving into water that's on fire, and we couldn't save them. We

weren't allowed to stop to save anybody. You had to just keep going.

To see them men on fire in the water, all the water's on fire

because the oil's on fire. And, oh, it was terrible that was, that was

a terrible thing. You'd see a ship, right in the middle of the convoy,

sometimes you'd catch them on the outsides of the convoy, but right

in the middle of the convoy bowl and they just exploded and then

they kept exploding, for about maybe 12 hours you could hear after

and they were still afloat but exploding with the ammunition in

them. A simple terse telegram would bring the war to people's doorsteps.

It was a telegram you never wanted to receive. My cousin Gerrard was

in the Merchant Service on his way home, in convoy of course, off the

coast of Ireland. They were torpedoed and from what we heard

from somebody else who was in the same convoy, there was just a

whoosh and the ship just disappeared. And I wasn't in the

forces then, and I was getting ready to go to work and I heard

this awful scream and it was my aunt Nell. When I went in, as we

lived next door but one to each other, she had the telegram in her

Churchill decided on direct action. In February 1941 he moved the

entire command of the Western Approaches, as the Atlantic theatre

of war became known, from Plymouth to this top secret bunker, a former

telephone exchange in the basement here at Derby House in Liverpool.

It was from here the Battle would have to be won. This rare film

shows what life was like here at the height of the Battle. 400 staff

worked around the clock every day in these rooms. Many were local

women recruited from the Wrens or Women's Auxiliary Air Force. They

were connected to Bletchley Park, where intercepted signals from

German submarines, using secret Enigma codes, were decoded and sent

to Liverpool to plot the threat to the convoys. Local historian

Margaret Jones showed me around. You get an impressive view of the

map room from up here. Whose office was this? This was Sir Max Horton's

office. He was the Commander in Chief, in charge of the Battle of

the Atlantic. He certainly was. He certainly was, yes. And is the

office as he left it in 1945? or less. We've paid great attention

to the detail, you see it's extremely authentic. There's only

him we need sitting here, it's more or less as he left it. Why was this

place so secretive? Because of the immense part it played in World War

II as in the Battle of the Atlantic, in fact without the part it played,

we wouldn't have won the Battle of the Atlantic, that's the relevance

of it. And the MoD knew what they were doing. Everyone here was under

the Official Secrets Act and they knew how to keep a secret. Stella

Passey was another young Wren from Liverpool, caught up in the Battle.

Most days she carried secret orders and signals into the Command Centre

from the Blundellsands Wren headquarters. I'd just be given

this envelope to take into Derby House, so we used to get the

overhead railway, the Docker's Umbrella, into Liverpool and walk

up to Derby House. I used to have to go in, I can't remember the

security, but I can remember I'm sure I went down the stairs and

along the corridor, past where they has all the ships, convoys, you

know, I handed over what I had, got a receipt and that was it. Then I

had to go back to Blundellsands that same way I came.

Seated on the hood of a touring car, the Prime Minister goes on a tonic

tour of the bombed areas of Birkenhead, Liverpool and

Manchester. Mr Churchill not only receives a tonic from the

courageous Lancastrians as he said in his broadcast, but he himself

acts like a tonic to the stout hearted people in the front line.

We now know that Churchill didn't come to Liverpool just to raise

moral, he came here because he was desperately worried about the U-

Boat menace. But how did he stay in touch with the government of the

country, when he was in Liverpool? Well, when he was in here, he had

his own private hotline and so he used this secret telephone box.

This is just one of two remaining in the UK. And when he was in there

there was an armed guard outside while he was making his hotline

telephone calls. And of course, it's situated in the guard room

itself, that's how secure it had to sealed off anyway. So many people

who worked here may not have known even that Mr Churchill was in the

building, making a phone call? Quite likely, because it's so big, they

wouldn't have needed to know- they were so busy getting on with their

own work at the time as well. Perhaps the tell-tale whiff of cigar

smoke might have been the giveaway. Churchill's new Command Centre soon

proved its worth by overseeing the hunting down and sinking of the

German battleship, Bismarck. It was an event that helped change the

course of the war. And now the only pictures actually taken during the

engagement of the war. This portion of our picture was pulled to and

taken from one of our ships and shows the last of Bismark's shells

bursting before she sank. Back in Liverpool, the Port and the River

Mersey were proving to be vital assets to the Allies as the convoys

began to get through. Stuart Wood is one of the Mersey's most experienced

river pilots, and an expert on the history of the river. The war effort

on Merseyside was a little-known story, perhaps almost forgotten but

the reason it's forgotten is because it involved absolutely everyone on

Merseyside from the dockers to the river pilots to the tug boat owners,

tug boat crews, to the volunteers who went to sea in the ship, for the

whole period of six years. The manpower lost on Merseyside was

around about 12,000. 2,200 odd ships were lost during that six year

period. It was the total commitment of the people of Merseyside that

made it work. Without the River Mersey and the people who lived on

both banks, the war could not have been successfully won. 90% of the

cargo that was required to progress the war came through the river here,

it came through the Port of Liverpool. 70 million tonnes in six

years. Quite a remarkable effort and it was down to the local people to

keep it going for six years. This quiet corner of Anfield Cemetery

shows the tragic price people paid for victory. It also tells the

saddest of stories. How many people taking a short cut to Anfield or

Goodison Park or just rambling through, realise that this is a mass

grave? The last resting place of 554 people killed during some of the

worst bombing any city has had to endure. Some of those buried here

were never identified. The German plan was simple. Stop the ships at

sea and destroy Liverpool. This photograph was recovered from German

intelligence at the end of the war. It was taken secretly by the

Luftwaffe flying over Liverpool in November 1940 and the detail is

chilling. Ships waiting in the river to rejoin convoys back to Canada can

be clearly seen. Someone has marked out potential targets in red ink.

Clarence Dock Power Station, the local gasworks and factory and anti

aircraft positions in Birkenhead. These photographs of the bomb damage

were taken by Liverpool Police. They had the task of logging where every

bomb dropped. They're seen here for the first time in 70 years. They'd

been locked away in files now kept by the Merseyside force. The true

extent of the bombing on Merseyside was kept from the public. Only

London was bombed more. Churchill's war cabinet censored reports.

Liverpool was referred to only as a ''northern town'' to protect the

public morale. Proud buildings lay in ruins, backstreet homes and

suburbia were all affected by the bombing. But the docks and the Port

of Liverpool were the main targets. An ammunition ship, the SS Malakand,

was set on fire in Huskisson Dock and exploded with such force that

debris was found two miles away. Queen Victoria's statue remained

untouched. She cast a defiant figure and was an inspiration to the people

of Liverpool. But the surrounding devastation was extraordinary. Two

thirds of Bootle's housing was destroyed and in all nearly 200,000

homes either damaged or destroyed. The docks and the river were

constantly hit, but somehow the dockers ensured convoys of ships

were able, finally, to unload their precious cargoes. One of the many

legacies we have of the 39-45 conflict in this river is the number

of ships that were lost. The wrecks number hundreds and we are in a

particularly good place here off the Liver building, where a ship hit a

mine and blew up and shattered into millions of pieces. The area was

designated by the Mersey Docks and Harbour company as a prohibited

anchorage because the wreckage on the bottom couldn't be cleared away.

The Mersey Docks and Harbour company had more important things to do.

They did a quick survey, checked that it was reasonably safe and then

declared the area a no-go area, in real terms a prohibited anchorage

and it's still the same 70 years later. And this is St Luke's Church

standing proud at the top of Bold Street. It was hit by an incendiary

and left to this day as a haven of peace and a lasting reminder of the

pity of war. This is Bootle Town Hall. The flags, bunting, ships

plaques and paintings on the wall tell their own story. They honour

the memory of all who took part in the Battle of the Atlantic. Here,

they never forget. This ship's bell is rung before every council

meeting. It's a direct link from the present to the past, to the Battle

of the Atlantic. But the bell pays tribute also to Captain Johnnie

Walker. Walker was given HMS Starling when he took over command

of the Second Support Group, based in the Mersey at Bootle. It was to

prove to be a key moment in the war. Walker devised new tactics. Instead

of shepherding and defending convoys from submarines, his ships would go

on the attack in groups and hunt them down. The biggest difference he

made was by taking the battle to the war, instead of sitting back

waiting. They were destroying at will. He turned it round and he

hunted them, instead of them hunting us. And that's why he always played

that tune when he left Liverpool, 'A Hunting We Will Go' and that's

A team effort once again. We hear this all the time. When they were

out there hunting the submarine, one nailed it while the other kept it in

position and then the others in the group went after them to make sure

they finished the job off. He was an amazing man, well thought of, but

had this ability to lead his men, not from a distance but from right

up at the front. Come on boys let's go to it. For those out on the

convoys, the fragility of life was an everyday experience. Norman Earl

lost four ships and many friends while in the Merchant Navy. He was

torpedoed twice and bombed twice. When your ship got hit your mind

went everywhere because, especially if it was an aircraft, you could see

the bombs coming but you wouldn't know where to go. You'd nowhere to

go anyway. If you did get hit at sea and you were injured, well, you'd

probably lie dead and drown because you never had time to clear

everything together. You were always happy all the time though. Even

though you were young, you didn't want to die young. For some

returning seamen, there was little appreciation for the brave work they

were doing. I was abused a couple of times with not being in uniform so

all's we had was a badge and anybody that had a son or relative in the

armed forces, they'd thought we were dodging the collar. There's a few

times I've been told. It's only when somebody else pointed out what I'd

done I got away with it. completion of 20 days successful

U-Boat hunting in the North Atlantic ends with the arrival at Liverpool

of sloops of the Second Escort group. Six German submarines sunk in

an operation which the First Lord of the Admiralty assessed as far

reaching in its importance and comparable to Trafalgar. HMS

Starling enters port with Captain Walker, group commander, standing

proud. He flies the signal 19, 39, 44. Johnnie Walker still going

strong. Walker's tactics worked brilliantly. He returned in triumph

and received a hero's welcome from the crowds and the First Lord of the

Admiralty. You have created a record in having sent well and truly, no

doubt about them, six German U-boats. And Captain Walker took the

opportunity to lead the hurrahs. Hip, hip, hurrah! Hip, hip, hurrah!

By 1944, the Battle of the Atlantic was all but won. Attacks on the

convoys began to fall and vital supplies for the D-Day landings got

through. But in the moment of triumph came tragedy. Just four

months after sinking those six submarines, Captain Walker collapsed

and died. Many believed he'd worked himself to death and died of

exhaustion. He had sunk more U-boats than any other British or Allied

commander during the war. The city of Liverpool came to a halt, as

thousands lined the streets to say a final farewell. And then Johnnie

Walker was buried at sea, with full military honours, in Liverpool Bay.

Even though I grew up in Liverpool, I never knew the full story of

Johnnie Walker or even the secret of the Western Approaches headquarters

and its role in the war. It was governed by the Official Secrets Act

until 1975 in case it ever needed to be used again. It's now preserved as

the Liverpool War Museum. It's strange to walk along its empty

corridors, with the ghosts of the past, and where Stella had once

brought her secret orders. I discovered she hadn't been back here

in nearly 70 years. There you go, Stella. Do you recognise this place?

I'm sure there was a corridor there on the other side. Do you recognise

the map room? I recognise the chart, yes. When you looked from your

vantage point, which is only a yard or two away from the table.

could see them moving the markers, you know, if they had to move them.

And what was the atmosphere like? Pretty tense I would think. I think,

honestly, you looked upon each of those as a ship and you hoped that

they either got to Halifax or got back to England, you know. Because

at one time there were actually loads and loads of losses of ships.

Everyone had this enormous weight of responsibility? That's right, yes.

After so many years, how does it feel being back here now? Coming

back here? It's an experience! I never thought I would come back.

It's humbling in many ways to reflect on the statistics of the

Battle, the longest battle of any modern war. Liverpool's dockers

handled 79 million tonnes of cargo. Cammel Lairds built a new ship every

20 days. 28,000 U-boat crew men died. 3,500 ships were sunk. And

32,000 Merchant seamen never made it back to this river. And when you

look upon the Mersey, it's hard not to think of those who lost their

lives. And what it meant to a whole generation who lost their youth,

lost their innocence, lost family, and friends, but never lost their

will to survive. And for them, why it is important to always remember.

They don't teach the children today in the schools enough about how this

country was saved. Because we were down to two weeks food and that was

the end of it. Everything came to Britain, apart from what was grown

here, everything came to Britain by sea. To be a Merchant seaman during

the war, I am very, very proud to say that I was with some real good

men. They knew what to expect. They knew what they were going to go

through. But they signed on again and they went back to sea. Many of

the men had been in lifeboats but they signed on again and went out

again. And I've been proud to have been one of the men. I think there

should be a permanent memorial for it because Liverpool was in the

midst of it and I think we should have a memorial. They say it's the

last one but it won't be the last one for me. I'll still remember them

and I'll still go to the memorials. You think what could have been. It's

no use worrying about what could have been, it's what's happening now

that's the most important. In the darkest days of World War Two, the