Orders, Decorations, Medals and Militaria

The important Second World War Dieppe raid D.S.C. group of seven awarded to Captain G. T. Lambert, Royal Navy, who displayed great courage as “Operation Jubilee’s” Principal Beach Master, establishing his H.Q. in the face of appalling fire on “Red” and “White” Beaches on the town’s seafront: the bare facts speak for themselves – 11 out of 13 officers and 50 out of 67 ratings of the R.N’s Beach Parties were killed, wounded and/or captured, among the latter their gallant C.O

Distinguished Service Cross, G.VI.R., reverse officially dated ‘1945’, hallmarks for London 1947; 1939-45 Star; Atlantic Star; Africa Star; Defence and War Medals, M.I.D. oak leaf; Coronation 1953, mounted as worn, together with a set of related dress miniature medals and tunic ribands, generally good very fine (14) £8,000-10,000

D.S.C. London Gazette 13 November 1945. The original recommendation states:

‘Commander Lambert was Principal Beach Master on the main beach (Red-White); this beach was under heavy and continually increasing observed fire throughout the operation. The troops who landed on this beach were pinned down, having been repulsed with heavy casualties, which placed the Naval Beach Party in a position of the utmost hazard. It then became the main duty of the Naval Beach Party to evacuate the troops, which, regardless of his own safety, Commander Lambert did everything possible to organise.

That this very gallant effort was largely frustrated was owing to the fact that few L.C.As succeeded in reaching Red-White Beach and of those that did, the majority were afterwards sunk by enemy fire.

Subsequently, when the troops on the beach were surrendering, Commander Lambert made a spirited attempt to avoid falling into enemy hands by swimming out to a sunken L.C.T., but he was eventually forced to surrender.’

Geoffrey Thornton Lambert was appointed a Midshipman in the Royal Navy in September 1922 and enjoyed steady advancement between the Wars, gaining promotion to Lieutenant-Commander in December 1934, and his first command, the destroyer H.M.S. Foresight, in January 1938. Still serving in the same capacity on the renewal of hostilities in September 1939, he was ordered to join Force “H” in the following year, Foresight subsequently taking part in “Operation Catapult”, the destruction of the French Fleet at Mers-el-Kebir, near Oran on 3 July 1940. Moreover, Foresight was among those ships chosen for a large scale search for German capital ships off Norway that November - Lambert was duly mentioned in despatches (London Gazette 1 July 1941).

Coming ashore to a Staff appointment on attachment to No. 2 Group, Bomber Command at High Wycombe, in early 1941, Lambert was advanced to Commander and joined Combined Operations in the following year, which transfer would ultimately lead to his appointment as Principal Beach Master in “Operation Jubilee” in August 1942. On that occasion he had charge of all Naval Beach Parties, from those on the west flank at “Orange Beach One” at Varengeville through to those on the east flank at “Yellow Beach Two” at Belleville, his own party landing right in the middle of Dieppe’s seafront on “Red” and “White” beaches - no place to be on the 19 August 1942, for unbeknown to Allied intelligence, a large number of camouflaged enemy gun positions overlooked the very same spot: moreover, due to one of our landing craft flotillas having earlier run into a German convoy, all element of surprise was lost and the enemy fully alerted to the pending assault.

Having been embarked in H.M.S. Prince Charles, Lambert transferred to a landing craft at about 0320 hours on the 19th for the final run-in to Dieppe’s seafront – he takes up the story in the official report he delivered to the Admiralty on his return to the U.K. in May 1945:

‘The enemy’s fire increased considerably as we stepped on to the beach. My party landed on White Beach near the centre of the town’s front. We had not had time to scatter nor take what cover there was under the steeper banks of shingle, before a shell or mortar bomb fell amongst us, killing or severely wounding all except four, who were liberally spattered with flying stones. Several more shells landed in quick succession; the effect of this fire then and throughout the operation was multiplied considerably by the beach being composed of large shingle … ’

Setting off down the beach, Lambert decided to establish his H.Q. in the shelter of a groyne dividing Red and White Beaches, and was joined by his two runners and the badly wounded Sub. Lieutenant Thomson, R.N.V.R. Next striking out along the beach to make contact with the Naval Signal Section, his wrist-watch already shattered, Lambert came upon Sub. Lieutenant Haslett, R.N.V.R., and was just giving him some instructions when the latter was shot through the head:

‘The crack of single bullets passing near seemed to indicate we were being sniped. A search through binoculars revealed the culprit on the breakwater (which, I was surprised to find, had not yet been captured), and he was dealt with.’

Desperate to make contact with H.M.S. Calpe, the raid’s H.Q. ship, Lambert impounded a passing scout car and from it commenced to send a series of signals by handset to the Force Commander, even though ‘the Germans were breaking into the conversation in English.’ In fact, the overall picture was bleak in the extreme, and until orders were received to commence the evacuation, all that could be done was to grab a Sten and ‘try and counter the heavy small arms fire which was being directed from the cliffs and buildings along the front.’

Eventually, as related by Lambert, he ‘was informed that the code word had been passed for the withdrawal to begin.’ But the landing craft making for White Beach were heavily attacked by enemy aircraft, and those that reached Red Beach subsequently struck by mortar and shell fire while casting off – the troops had to be brought on shore again through a murderous fire. The situation was now hopeless, Lambert describing events leading up to his capture:

‘After this incident, which left us busy for some time [the loss of landing craft off White and Red Beaches], it was noticed that the horizon was clear of shipping, and Brigadier W. Southam was informed it was unlikely that anymore would be sent. He was rallying his men to further efforts but they were too exhausted for much more exertion. Casualties were getting heavy and, although we kept up small arms fire as individuals, we could not reduce the increasing fire directed at us from the cliff tops. I then set out to return to the beach H.Q., about a furlong to the eastward, to talk things over with the P.M.L.O., but a heavy barrage was put down and it was necessary to lie very flat until it ceased. When it suddenly stopped, Germans could be seen attacking from the promenade and our troops had begun to surrender. I returned to the strong point, being met by Lieutenant Bibby, R.N.V.R., who told me that the soldiers had had enough and had run out of ammunition. We decided to try and escape by swimming out to a sunken L.C.T. with its bows afloat and lie up until dark. The Germans had no compunction about firing at us all the way out, but we got on board. However, the rising tide engulfed the bows and, as we were too exhausted to swim, the current took us close in to the breakwater where we were picked up by the enemy.’

In terms of stark facts, and by way of illustrating the odds faced by Lambert and his beach party, no better summary of the casualties suffered on Red and White Beaches is available than that recorded by Ronald Atkin in Dieppe 1942:

‘The Royal Hamilton Light Infantry sent 582 officers and men to White Beach, of whom 197 were killed or died subsequently. Another 175 became prisoners and of those who managed to get back to England 108, almost exactly half, were wounded …

The hopelessness of the Essex Scottish position on Red Beach was graphically illustrated by the battalion’s casualty figures. Of the 553 embarked, only 52, fewer than ten percent, returned and two of these subsequently died in hospital. The Essex Scottish lost 121 killed or died of wounds, while 382 were captured on the beach at Dieppe.

The Fusiliers Mont-Royal were not far behind the Essex Scottish in the total of men made prisoner, losing 354 of their embarkation strength of 584 to the prison camps. Ten of these soldiers died in captivity and a further 105 were killed at Dieppe. Colonel Joe Menard brought home to England with him 120 soldiers (four of whom later died of wounds) and four of the 31 officers with whom he had set out.

The brief, doomed foray by the Royal Marine Commando cost them 66 killed or captured and 31 wounded, and the grim count at Red and White Beaches was pushed even higher by the severe losses of engineers, sappers, signallers and naval personnel.’

In fact, the overall losses sustained by the naval personnel of the R.N. Beach Parties speak of even harsher returns - 11 out of 13 officers and 50 out of 67 ratings were killed, wounded and / or captured.

Bitter though the experience of falling into enemy hands undoubtedly was, Lambert noted nonetheless that ‘it was gratifying to discover that “Operation Jubilee” caused the Germans considerable anxiety, judging by the amount of cross examination to which I was periodically subjected.’ Having been incarcerated at Marlag und Milag Nord in the interim, he was finally liberated in May 1945.

Appointed to the Admiralty’s Small Vessels Pool in October 1945, Lambert became Deputy Director of Movements for Naval Servicing Craft in June 1946 and returned to sea as Executive Officer of the cruiser Sussex in January 1947, in which appointment he was advanced to Captain in July of the following year. Having then attended a course at Greenwich College, he commanded the frigate Veryan Bay and ended his career as Naval Attache in Paris, when he was placed on the Retired List in July 1957.

Sold with a large quantity of original documentation, including a good run of ship “flimsies” (16), covering the period March 1934 to February 1949; a mass of signals, letters and telegrams (approximately 60 in total) from fellow officers and family, the whole congratulating him on his attaining post-rank in January 1947, and including a letter from his old Combined Operations Naval C.O. at Dieppe, Admiral Hughes-Hallett (‘It is a relief to me to feel that the long interruption of your career caused by Dieppe has not prevented you successfully surmounting the hurdle!’); and a fine selection of career photographs, the majority of ships (approximately 65); together with a presentation silver salver, hallmarks for London 1927, this with central engraved inscription, ‘Lieutenant G. T. Lambert, Royal Navy, from Vice-Admiral A. D. Pound, Captain C. P. Talbot and the Wardroom Officers, H.M.S. Renown, 26th July 1930’; his R.N. Officer’s wardroom napkin holder, silver, unmarked, Meli of Malta, with usual engraved list of ship appointments (1921 to retirement in 1957), in addition to his name and initials; and a wooden ship’s model of the recipient’s first command, the destroyer H.M.S. Foresight (pennant number ‘H-68’), as constructed at Marlag und Milag Nord during his captivity, approximately 560mm. overall length.

Also sold with a quantity of memorabilia appertaining to the recipient’s son, Lieutenant G. R. Lambert, Royal Navy, a Fleet Air Arm pilot who was killed in a helicopter accident in February 1956, including his Royal Air Force Pilots’ Flying Log Books (Form 414 type) (2), covering the periods October 1950 to October 1952, and November 1952 to February 1956, both with pasted-down certificates and photographs; together with his commission warrant for the rank of Sub. Lieutenant, dated 21 April 1954; his certificate for graduating as a Naval pilot, dated 27 July 1951; a photographic certificate for crossing the Arctic Circle (H.M.S. Illustrious), otherwise known as the “Order of the Bluenose”; an S.O. Book 135, with his handwritten notes on instruments; a run of “flimsies” covering the period October 1950 to November 1955; Admiralty letter of condolence addressed to his father, dated 25 February 1956; a pair of prize medals for hockey, the reverse of one inscribed, ‘824 Squadron, 1952’, both in card boxes of issue; his bullion embroidered F.A.A. “Wings”, large and small sizes; an 813 Squadron (F.A.A.) flying tunic cloth badge, and two wooden wall plaques, one bearing the crest of 813 Squadron.

George Ronald Lambert commenced flying training as a Midshipman at No. 22 F.T.S. in October 1950 and obtained his “Wings” in July 1951. Further training appointments ensued at 766 and 737 Squadrons (F.A.A.), prior to his joining 824 Squadron in February 1952, and between then and his death in October 1956, he enjoyed several seagoing appointments and operated in Firefly, Avenger and Sea Fury aircraft. But at the time of his death on 24 February 1956, he was serving as a helicopter pilot in 705 Squadron, R.N.A.S. Gosport, in Dragonfly Mk. 3s.