by Mark Simmons
THE BATTLE OF
MATAPAN 1941
‘The Mediterranean is an absurdly small sea; the length and greatness of its history makes us dream it larger than it is.’ Lawrence Durrell, The Alexandria Quartet: Balthazar
For the members of my family past and present who have served in the Royal Navy and Royal Marines.
MARK SIMMONS
THE BATTLE OF
MATAPAN 1941
THE TRAFALGAR OF THE MEDITERRANEAN
SPELLMOUNT
Front cover: ‘Warspite Recovers her Swordfish.’ HMS Warspite picks up her reconnaissance plane at speed, a manoeuvre never tried out before as the British Fleet steam flat out to catch the Italian warships. The Swordfish piloted by Petty Officer Ben Rice had been aloft for nearly five hours, searching in vain for the Italian fleet. Low on fuel the aircraft was recovered by the fast moving Warspite in a challenging operation that was faultlessly accomplished. (Painting by Dennis C.Andrews)
Mark Simmons served in the Royal Marines in the 1970s. He is now a full-time writer specialising in military history and is the author of two novels, From the Foam of the Sea and The Serpent and the Cross.
First published 2011 by Spellmount, an imprint of
The History Press
The Mill, Brimscombe Port
Stroud, Gloucestershire, GL5 2QG
www.thehistorypress.co.uk
This ebook edition first published in 2011
All rights reserved
© Mark Simmons, 2011
The right of Mark Simmons, to be identified as the Author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyrights, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights, and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.
EPUB ISBN 978 0 7524 7264 5
MOBI ISBN 978 0 7524 7263 8
Original typesetting by The History Press
Contents
Acknowledgements
Prologue
Introduction
Part 1 The Naval War in the Mediterranean, June 1940–March 1941
1 The Fourth Punic War
2 The Regia Marina
3 Britain Alone
4 Ultra Secret
5 Early Clashes
6 Operation Judgement
7 Cape Spartivento
8 Enter the Luftwaffe
Part 2 Matapan
9 Reluctant Allies
10 Hut 8
11 The British Fleet at Alexandria
12 Daybreak, 28 March
13 Morning, 28 March
14 Afternoon, 28 March
15 Attack at Dusk
16 Night Action 28/29 March
17 The Italian Cruisers
18 29 March
Part 3 Conclusions
19 Effects of Matapan
20 Intelligence
21 What If
Appendix A The British Fleet at Matapan
Appendix B The Italian Fleet at Matapan
Appendix C The Aircraft at Matapan
Bibliography
Acknowledgements
The genesis of this book came about while researching some articles on the Taranto Raid. It struck me there were some relatively recent books on the Taranto Raid but not on Matapan. I am grateful to the veterans of the Second World War whom I spoke to, and through whom it was made apparent to me that the battle, particularly in three key areas, needed exploring again. This was not to detract from the older excellent accounts of the Battle of Matapan, S.W.C. Pack’s The Battle of Matapan which is largely an eyewitness account by the weatherman of HMS Formidable which I have quoted several times, and Ronald Seth’s Two Fleets Surprised: The Battle of Cape Matapan, which is different in its approach, exploring the Italian side of events more fully. Both are now 50 years old and much new material pertaining to the battle has become available since their publication. Neither of the earlier versions make any reference to the Ultra decodes, the name used by British intelligence resulting from the decryption of encrypted Axis radio communications in the Second World War. They could not have mentioned the vital part Bletchley Park played in the battle, as the information was not declassified until the mid 1970s.
I am hugely indebted to Group Captain L.E. (Robbie) Robins AEDL, who drew my attention to much of the role Ultra played, and gave me free use of his extensive library, supplied numerous cups of coffee and great conversation and was good enough to read an early draft making many excellent comments and suggestions. And to David Pearce my architect, another avid book collector who introduced me to Robbie, which proved such a great favour.
The second area was to reassess the Italian side of events. Count Galeazzo Ciano’s diary gave a flavour of Italian High Command political and military at the highest levels. Commander Marc Antonio Bragadin’s The Italian Navy in World War II has been invaluable, as has the help of C.V. Francesco at the Italian Navy Historical Archives.
Thirdly the role of Admiral of the Fleet Lord Cunningham of Hyndhope as C-in-C Mediterranean Fleet in 1941 needed some assessment, as his role has become rather tarnished in recent years. Cunningham’s own autobiography A Sailor’s Odyssey was a vital source. The HMSO official British histories have also been a gold mine of information.
Many associations have helped with eyewitness accounts and illustrations. Ray Oliver and Sara Wrigley at the HMS Barham association, Russ Graystone at the HMAS Perth association, Denis W. Edwards at the HMS Formidable association and Frank Allen at the HMS Hood association. Also the BBC’s WW2 People’s War archive, for the memories of Surgeon-Commander E.R. Sorley RN supplied by Graeme Sorley.
I also want to thank many museums for their help with illustrations. In particular the Royal Navy Museum Portsmouth, Fleet Air Arm Museum Yeovilton, the Italian Navy Historical Archives, the Venice Naval History Museum, the Imperial War Museum and the United States Navy Historical Centre.
Iain Ballantyne and Dennis C. Andrews (who also provided the artwork for the front cover) at International Fleet Review, John Mussell at Medal News and Flint Whitlock at World War II magazines gave me much encouragement, advice and help.
My Wife Margaret as always gave her wholehearted support in proofreading and index building with additional help from Jo Shinner. My Father A.F.T (Tom) Simmons ran his expert sailor’s eye over the manuscript and assisted with illustrations. Thanks to all.
Prologue
‘Here we are safely back in harbour after taking part in what has been rightly described as “the greatest naval battle of the war”.’ So wrote Surgeon-Commander E.R. Sorley in April 1941, who served on the battleship Barham, part of the golden generation that fought during the Second World War, sadly fast disappearing now. He tried to analyse the Battle of Matapan: ‘Our success was due to (a) an extraordinary piece of good fortune in coming close enough to the enemy in the dark (b) the Italians’ ignorance of our whereabouts and (c) our very prompt seizing of the opportunity before the enemy could escape.’1
Of course Sorley could not have known there was rather more to it than that; vital aspects responsible for victory were hidden. The Italian fleet was hamstrung by its own countrymen and allies. A labyrinth of Axis politics and strategies did it no favours. Yet it might have turned out differently had another course been taken.
And then there are the voices of those who took part from admirals, to pil
ots and the ratings of the lower decks; all were heroes in the long story of men at sea.
Note
1 BBC World War II archives. Surgeon-Commander E.R. Sorley
Introduction
It was the humid season on Malta, that September of 1943. The hot Sirocco winds from North Africa blow from August to October across the cool sea, raising humidity. The local sailors do not like them because the seas have time to build up and on land they can bring bad dust storms to the Maltese islands and Sicily. However, the weather was clear on the day the Italian fleet came to surrender.
On 10 September 1943, a haze reduced visibility to some fifteen miles. Warspite and Valiant, two British veteran battleships of Matapan, with escorting destroyers, went out to meet the Italian vessels. Both battleships had been present 25 years before, with the 5th Battle Squadron, when in November 1918 the German High Seas Fleet had surrendered at the end of the First World War. They had met the Italians off the coast of Africa, north of Bone, the Italian ships sailing from Spezia early on 9 September. The latter had taken an agreed course west of Corsica, a fleet of three battleships, six cruisers and eight destroyers. The three battleships of the Vittorio Veneto class were the newest in the fleet; Roma had only been completed in 1942.
The Italian ships were attacked by dozens of German aircraft from bases in the south of France, using the new FX-1400 ‘Fitz X’ guided bombs, in the gulf of Asinara near Sardinia. Roma was hit on the port side; speed was quickly reduced to ten knots. Another bomb hit between the bridge and second 15-inch gun turret resulting in a magazine explosion. The ship burst into flames and quickly capsized and sank, taking 1,350 men down with her. The Littorio (renamed the Italia after the fall of Mussolini) was slightly damaged. Other Italian naval units sailed to Malta from several ports. In all 5 battleships, 8 cruisers, 7 destroyers, 24 torpedo-boats, 40 submarines, 19 corvettes and various auxiliaries and smaller vessels surrendered.
Admiral Andrew Browne Cunningham, commander of the British Mediterranean Fleet, known affectionately as ABC, was delighted. ‘It was the most moving and thrilling sight. To see my wildest hopes of years back brought to fruition.’1 The most deadly enemy to Britain’s control of the Mediterranean had been brought to heel, directly the result of the victories of Taranto and Matapan.
Modern Italy almost from its first unification had cast covetous eyes toward Malta. In 1866 she had entered an alliance with Prussia against Austria but had come off worst both on land and sea. The result was the navy was rebuilt with the most powerful ships, the Duilio class battleships with four 100-ton Armstrong guns mounted in pairs in revolving turrets, their design directly influenced by the USS Monitor of the American Civil War.
Britain could not risk any likely threat to its route through the Mediterranean Sea to its imperial territories. Although no state of war existed between the two countries, Malta and Gibraltar were vital coaling stations. The answer, the deterrent, was to build four great coastal batteries armed with the same 100-ton guns, all built by Armstrong’s of Newcastle, one of which can still be seen at the Rinella Gun Battery on Malta. During the Second World War it became a coast watching post for the 2nd Battalion Cheshire Regiment, whilst its rock-hewn galleries became air raid shelters.2 Therefore it was a great achievement that on 11 September 1943 Cunningham was able to send a signal to the Admiralty; ‘Be pleased to inform their Lordships that the Italian Battle Fleet now lies at anchor under the guns of the fortress of Malta.’3
The people of the island rejoiced as the Italians surrendered. ‘Malta was en fete, with the people wild with jubilation and many of the streets draped in flags. Among others, the parish priest of shattered Senglea contiguous to the dockyard and therefore one of the main targets of air attack announced the Italian surrender from his pulpit.’4 The outlook in June 1940 could hardly have been more different. The day after Italy’s declaration of war on Britain and France, the air raids hit Malta, bombs falling on Pieta, Floriana, and lower Valetta.
Notes
1 Cunningham, A.B. A Sailor’s Odyssey p.563
2 Farrugia, Mario, Fort Rinella p.33
3 Cunningham, p.564
4 Ibid p.565
PART 1
The Naval War in the Mediterranean, June 1940–March 1941
1
The Fourth Punic War
Late in the afternoon of 10 June 1940 Benito Mussolini, Il Duce, spoke from the balcony of the Palazzo Venezia in Rome to the crowd which had been hurriedly assembled. An order approving the demonstration had only been signed the day before, so the faithful could share the moment.
‘Destiny’ Il Duce proclaimed, had decreed war. ‘We go into the field against the plutocratic and reactionary democracies’ who had ‘threatened the existence of the Italian people.’ The speech was delivered in his usual bellicose style; ‘Honour, self-interest and the future’ could not be ignored. He declared Italy’s naval intentions: ‘We want to snap the territorial and military chains which suffocate us in our sea … [Italy] cannot really be free if it does not have free access to the ocean.’1
Mussolini was speaking to the ranks of his ardent fascist supporters. The view of many other Italians was rather different. Public opinion in September 1939 had rejoiced at the decision to remain neutral. In the intervening months it had not changed. Even among Il Duce’s closest supporters and advisors, support for the Pact of Steel with Germany and entry into the war was lukewarm, or people were openly hostile. Count Galeazzo Ciano, his son-in-law and Minister of Foreign Affairs, son of Costanzo Ciano, the admiral, war hero and ardent fascist supporter, was against the alliance. In his celebrated diary Ciano leaves a picture of his struggle to restrain his father-in-law in his support for Hitler and the Nazis. He warned him the war would be long, arduous and would be won by the British.2 On the day Mussolini made the announcement, Ciano wrote in his diary: ‘The news of war does not surprise anyone and does not cause very much enthusiasm. I am sad, very sad. The adventure begins. May God help Italy.’3 The Italian General Staff convened at the Palazzo Venezia a few days earlier and had warned Mussolini that Italy was ill-prepared, and the war must be short. ‘Our supplies are frighteningly low. We literally don’t have some metals. On the eve of the war – and what a war – we have only 100 tons of nickel.’4
Italy had been living on a war basis since 1935. Her adverse trading balance was large and the government’s budget for 1939–40 forecast a heavy deficit. A further arms race could be disastrous. The Italian Army was undergoing a major reorganisation, involving the reduction of infantry divisions from three regiments to two; the process was ongoing, and a serious handicap to large operations. Between January and April a big call up of conscripts and reservists had taken place. The army had some recent experience of campaigning but not against a modern enemy, and there were shortages of weapons and equipment, and much they had was outdated.
The Regia Aeronautica (Italian Air Force) had some 5,400 aircraft, but 400 were obsolete and based in the African colonies, and the Service had reached a peak of readiness for war in 1936. Since then a decline had set in. It was only fit to fight a short modern war. In contrast the morale of the Regia Marina (Italian Navy), a problem from its creation, had improved under the fascist regime. It had good ships: well built, well armed and fast. However it lacked a secure supply of oil and lacked experience, and had carried out too few exercises to bring the ships up to full efficiency. The submarine fleet by its size alone deserved respect; in 1940 it had twice as many boats as the Kreigsmarine.5 According to reports from the Italian Commission for War Production, which reached Mussolini at the end of 1939, Italian industry would begin to meet in full the needs of the three armed forces by 1944. By February 1940 General Favagrossa, head of the commission, was able to report that the former date could be brought forward to 1943.
Mussolini was gambling that the war would be short, although however short it might be, Italy would be dependent for raw materials on her German ally, although Il Duce was determined to fight his own
war at British and French expense.6 According to the New York Times:
With the courage of a jackal at the heels of a bolder beast of prey, Mussolini had now left his ambush. His motives in taking Italy into the war are as clear as day. He wants to share in the spoils which he believes will fall to Hitler, and he has chosen to enter the war when he thinks he can accomplish this at the least cost to himself.7
Winston Churchill said that the responsibility for Italy entering the war was borne by ‘one man alone’; certainly many Italians were unenthusiastic. For Mussolini, victory was less important than fighting itself, for it was ‘humiliating to remain with our hands folded while others write history. It matters little who wins.’8 By 1940 he had been in power for eighteen years; in the early days many had admired him and his policies. Clementine Churchill who met him in 1926 thought him ‘One of the most wonderful men of our times.’ She was delighted to take away a signed photo as a memento, which she kept on her desk for some time.9 Winston Churchill himself, in a 1927 speech in Rome, declared that Mussolini’s fascist movement had ‘rendered a service to the entire world’, with its stand against ‘the bestial appetites and passions of Leninism.’10
Many Italians, although they mistrusted Hitler, felt they were opportunistically entering a short war for profit. France was on her knees, the BEF had lost all its heavy equipment and had barely escaped Dunkirk, and some of her leaders talked of abandoning the Mediterranean. In June 1940 Mussolini’s gamble hardly seemed risky, and few demurred openly at his decision. The alliance with Germany would free Italy to pursue her own agenda in the Mediterranean and Africa. Mussolini expressed this three years later to party officials. ‘The question of our land frontiers was settled by the war of 1915–18. We are faced today with the problem of maritime frontiers, and this conflict has for us a very special character, that of the Fourth Punic War.’11 The Italian fleet would play a central role in this.
