First World War battleship, HMS Ramillies, and joined her in Colombo on 22 February 1940.
In January 1941, after Greece has been invaded by Italy, I was appointed to HMS Valiant, another WWI battleship, currently serving in the Mediterranean Fleet based in Alexandria. After a year of relative peace and quiet in the Indian Ocean, things certainly hotted-up in the Mediterranean. My introduction to the ‘shooting war’ was a bombardment of Bardia, when the Italian shore batteries shot back. This was followed by a convoy to Malta, when the carrier, HMS Illustrious, was damaged by Stuka dive bombers.
All this is on the record. What is not on the record is what it was like to be a Midshipman (the lowest form of life in the Navy) taking part in the Matapan campaign. Keeping everyone accurately informed of what was going on in a battleship, with a ship’s company of 1,200 (including some 20 Midshipmen) was not really possible. Furthermore, all these events took place 70 years ago, and, as most elderly people have discovered, memories tend to fade – to put it mildly. Consequently, what follows needs to be treated as ‘faction’.
Quite how information about what was going on percolated to the Gunroom is a mystery, but even the Midshipmen were becoming aware that the Italian fleet was thought to be at sea, and that there might be a chance of catching them. There was definitely a special atmosphere of anticipation of something dramatic in prospect when the Fleet put to sea from Alexandria during the night of 27 March.
My Action Station was on the bridge, and at night I had control of the port searchlight, so I managed to gather roughly what was going on by overhearing snippets of conversation from the compass platform. My impression was that an Italian battle fleet was at sea and was engaged in a fight with our light forces of cruisers and destroyers, which were attempting to lure the Italians towards our battleships. Then the carrier, HMS Formidable pulled out of the line to fly off a strike of Swordfish torpedo bombers. The general impression was that there might be the chance of catching the Italian heavy ships, provided they kept up their chase of our cruisers. Later, just before dusk, Formidable flew off another strike. It then transpired that the Italians had turned away after some of their ships had been hit by torpedoes from the Swordfish. The chase went on into a still, calm night, although it was apparent that our cruisers and destroyers were busy further north.
My recollection is that Valiant was the only capital ship fitted with, what is now known as RADAR, but was then known as RDF, and was therefore stationed immediately astern of HMS Warspite, Admiral Cunningham’s Flagship. As far as I was concerned, it seemed that there was little chance of our catching up with the retreating Italians, and, as it got dark there was a general air of anti-climax. Then, suddenly, in the quiet of the night, came a report from our RDF operator that he had an echo on the port bow at about 5,000 yards of what appeared to be a stationary ship. I turned my searchlight on to the bearing given by the RDF operator in the hope of seeing the target. Just then the destroyer Greyhound turned her searchlight on which, I think, picked up an Italian destroyer, but the loom was enough for me to make out a ship on the horizon. I seem to remember that I reported that I had a target in sight, and was ordered to ‘open shutter’. The beam lit up a stationary cruiser, but we were so close by then that the beam only lit up half the ship.
At this point all hell broke loose, as all our eight 15 inch guns, plus those of the Flagship and Barham’s started firing at the stationary cruiser, which disappeared in an explosion and a cloud of smoke. I was then ordered to ‘train left’ and lit up another Italian cruiser, which was given the same treatment. By this time the night was full of smoke, loud bangs and flashes and the dark shapes of our destroyers, with their coloured ‘recognition lights’, appeared and disappeared. That bit of the Mediterranean then became a very dangerous place. There must have been some twenty British and Italian warships dashing about in every direction at high speed. It was at this point the C.-in-C. ordered all ships not engaged in sinking the enemy to withdraw to the north east. Bangs and flashes went on for a bit, but then things gradually calmed down.
The next morning the battle fleet returned to the scene of the battle while attempts were made to pick up survivors. This was rudely interrupted by an attack by German bombers. Fortunately they missed, although Valiant was straddled diagonally from the port quarter to the starboard bow. A Royal Marine sentry on the quarterdeck was killed by a splinter, but otherwise no damage was done. Except that the two bombs going off virtually simultaneously, made the whole ship flex along its length. The only result was that some of the hatches in the armoured deck took some time to be forced open.
The return to Alexandria was uneventful, and the peace and quiet was much appreciated.
Introduction Dr J. E. Harrold
The Battle for Cape Matapan stands out as the biggest and most decisive battle between surface fleets in the Mediterranean during World War II. It also stands out among the series of staff battle summaries concerning the theatre of operations in the Mediterranean by warranting a publication of its own. Written shortly after the war, the summary presents an initial review of the battle, drawing on the accounts of those present on both sides. As such, it provides the most detailed and vivid account of ship and aircraft movement as the enemy is hunted, trailed, avoided and engaged. It also conveys the ‘fog of war’ in which accurate intelligence combines with the inaccurate and misleading to paint an often confusing picture of events. Written so soon after the event, there is inevitably little reflection in the account, which is also rendered incomplete by the omission of the role played by ULTRA in enabling the British to read Italian and German signals. Its original ‘restricted’ classification meant it was only to be released to certain individuals, including select foreign governments and international organisations, but was not otherwise to be made generally available to the public. However, this summary presents a unique insight into one of the last fleet engagements in naval history and therefore warrants a wider readership.
Unlike the Atlantic, control of the Mediterranean was not a matter of national survival for Britain. However, since the opening of the Suez Canal in 1869 it had become a valuable lifeline between the United Kingdom and its dominions in Asia and Australasia, a significance reinforced as demand for Middle Eastern oil emerged. Moreover, its strategic importance as the major means of supply and communication with theatres of war from North Africa to the Middle East, the Balkans and Italy ensured that the fight for control of the Mediterranean would continue until the end of the war in Europe.
It was not until June 1940 that the Mediterranean became a major problem for Britain, caused by two seismic shifts in the war: the entry of Italy into the war followed only days later by the collapse of France. At once Britain had lost an ally and gained an enemy, the impact of which was most keenly felt in the Mediterranean. The Italian Navy (Regia Marina), under the command of Admiral Angelo Iachino, presented a formidable opponent; modern, well designed and generally faster than its older Royal Navy (RN) counterparts; it also had the advantage of being able to focus solely on the war in the Mediterranean while Britain and the Allies had to stretch resources to cover the Atlantic and later the Pacific. It had been designed principally to provide home defence against the French Navy, a role it was clearly not required to fulfil, and preferred to remain ‘a fleet in being’, reluctant to engage in battle, save for the protection of the occasional convoy, while continuing to pose a sizeable threat to its opponents.1 The apparent reluctance of the Regia Marina to engage in battle was in part due to its limited supply of fuel.2 When it did venture out it suffered other significant deficiencies, notably the lack of organic (sea-launched) aircraft, the absence of radar and the centralised land-based command of the Italian Naval Headquarters (Supermarina), which denied Italian commanders the freedom of action enjoyed by their British counterparts. All these factors were to weigh against the Regia Marina when it met the RN at Cape Matapan.
By comparison, the British Mediterranean Fleet, which included the Australian light cruiser HMAS Perth and the destroyer HMAS Stuart, under the command of Admiral Sir Andrew Cunningham (know as ABC) began the war smaller3 and older. All three battleships engaged at Matapan, HMS Warspite, Valiant and Barham had been present at the Battle of Jutland, 25 years earlier. Crucially, each but Barham, together with other more modern British ships, was fitted with radar. The RN also enjoyed the presence of an aircraft carrier, although