Le Surcouf – or stuff you learn gaming


A while back I studied a game I want to buy called Silent War, which is a single player simulation of the US submarine campaign against imperial Japan during the second world war. There I came across a little tidbit of information that sparked my curiosity. «The game contains counters for several anachronistic submarines, among other the giant french submarine Le Surcouf lost in 1942 during mysterious circumstances.»

Model of Le Surcouf from The French Naval Museum

Now, a giant submarine is to put it mildly. Le Surcouf was launched in 1929 and commissioned in 1934, as a one-of from the ideas that submarines would surplant surface warships, an old idea all but obsolete by the time the ship was finished and launched. The boat was 110 meters long and close to 3 tons dead weight. With a crew of 110 men and 8 officers she was more an underwater cruiser than a submarine in the modern sense of the word. She carried a observation aircraft in a watertight hangar, and her main armaments was twin 203mm cannons in a turret, and theoretically she could, using the aircraft for spotting, engage enemy ships at a range of 39 km.

Now this enormous submarine was not surpassed in size until nuclear subs where developed, but despite, or perhaps because of, her enormous size, she did not prove to be very successful. She rolled in bad weather, used more than 2 minutes to dive making her vulnerable for ASW-patrol bombers, and was a beast to trim during diving. Nevertheless she had a very intriguing service record:

In 1940, when France fell, Le Surcouf was stationed in Cherbourg, but being refitted in Brest. The crew realized the surrender of France was a foregone conclusion and with only one engine functioning and with a jammed rudder, she limped across the English Channel and sought refuge in Plymouth.

On 3 July, the British, concerned that the French Fleet would be taken over by the German Kriegsmarine when the French surrendered, executed Operation Catapult. The Royal Navy blockaded the harbours where French warships were anchored and delivered an ultimatum: re-join the fight against Germany, be put out of reach of the Germans or scuttle the ships. Most accepted willingly, with two exceptions. (The French fleets at Mers-el-Kebir and Dakar.)

Le Surcouf under way, as most subs of her era she would cruise at the surface Addendum: It has come to my knowledge that this is in fact not a picture of Le Surcouf, but of the fictional I-507 from the japanese movie Lorelei:The witch of the Pacific


French ships lying at ports in Britain and Canada were also boarded by armed Marines, sailors and soldiers, and the only serious incident during these operations was aboard the Surcouf, where two Royal Navy officers and a French warrant officer were fatally wounded, and a British seaman was shot dead by the Surcouf’s doctor. The French sailors would be repatriated, unfortunately, the hospital ship carrying them back to France was sunk by German submarines, and many frenchmen lost their life. This would not be the last time British and French had a strained relationship regarding the Surcouf…

By August 1940, the British completed Surcouf’s refit, orginally started in Brest and turned her over to the Free French Navy (Forces Navales Françaises Libres, FNFL) for convoy patrol duty. The only officer not repatriated from the original crew, Louis Blaison, became the new commander. Now soon the old misgivings flared up. There were rumours that the ship actually spied for the collaborators in Vichy-France, or even that the ship was attacking the convoys she was meant to protect. The British admiralties response was to station a British officer and two sailors on board for «liaison» purposes. (In effect to keep an eye on the french crew.)

The admiralty had been rather reluctant to recommission the Surcouf in the first place. She was old, and of dubious value as a fighting vessel. Not to mention that her size meant she needed a crew three times larger than other submarines.

In December 1941, Surcouf carried the Free French Admiral Émile Muselier to Canada, putting in to Quebec City. While the Admiral was in Ottawa, conferring with the Canadian government, Surcouf’s captain was approached by New York Times reporter Ira Wolfert and questioned about the rumours that the submarine would liberate Saint-Pierre and Miquelon (a French archipelago some 30 km south of Newfoundland) for Free France from Vichy control. It was rumoured, but never confirmed, that Surcouf’s captain kidnapped Wolfert, smuggled him to the submarine in the trunk of a car, and imprisoned him aboard. The reporters glowing pro-Free France articles later published makes it less likely he didn’t come aboard willingly. Whether willing or not; Wolfert did accompany the submarine to Halifax, Nova Scotia where, on 20 December, they joined the Free French corvettes Mimosa, Aconit, and Alysse, and on Christmas eve took control of the islands for Free France without resistance. Probably the only time in history where a submarine not only have lead an amphibious assault, but also have had the largest caliber armament of all participating units.

Now this action put the Americans in a difficult position: Secretary of State Cordell Hull had just concluded an agreement with the nominally neutral Vichy government that French possessions in the Western hemisphere would not be attacked, but treated as neutral. He threatened to resign unless President Roosevelt demanded a restoration of the status quo. Charles de Gaulle refused, naturally, and Roosevelt dropped the matter.

In January 1942 the Free French decided the Surcouf would do a better service in the Pacific theater, seeing as she had little to contribute to the Atlantic campaign. Possibly the planned to have her restore Free French control over several Pacific island now under Vichy-French control. The Surcouf was to resupply at Bermuda, then pass through the Panama canal and then report for duty at Tahiti. The move south also started rumous she was to liberate Martinique.

But she disappeared after leaving Bermuda, and to this day no one can say for certain what her final fate was. The most popular theory is that The Surcouf was sunk on 18 February 1942 about 130 kmnorth of Cristóbal, Colón. The American freighter SS Thompson Lykes, steaming alone to Guantanamo Bay on what was a very dark night, reported hitting and running down a partially submerged object which scraped along her side and keel. Her lookouts heard people in the water but the freighter carried on its course without stopping, as they thought that they had struck a German U-boat. And that could be the last word, if it was not for all the theories that started being put forward.

Some claim that while she was sunk by the steamer, the ramming was intentional, the allies still not convinced of the crews loyalty.

Another conspiracy claim that she was caught refueling a German sub, and both ships were engaged and sunk by US submarines, the supposed ramming just being a smokescreen employed to not hurt the pro-French sentiment in the US public.

Other claim the Submarine had taken aboard a lot more supplies than reasonable at Bermuda, and that she had taken a run for the Vichy-French ports in Europe.

James Rusbridger examines some of the theories in his book Who Sank Surcouf?, dismissed all except one: The 6th Heavy Bomber Group operating out of Panama reported sinking a large submarine the morning of 19 February. Since no German submarine was lost in the area on that date, it could only have been Le Surcouf. Rusbridger suggested that damage from the collision with the US steamer had damaged the subs wireless and the stricken boat had limped towards Panama hoping for the best.

And of course, it should be no surprise the area she was lost happen to be within a certain triangle as well…

After the war, a memorial for the boat and her crew was erected in Cherbourg.

Some more information on Le Surcouf, including some pictures and a full roster of the last crew to man her. (in French)