Battle of Lonian Sea

Battle of the Ionian Sea

Aloft in Warspite's eccentrically huge superstructure, a little knot of men was tense. They felt not just the tightness that comes over all sailors at sea after dark--but now the exhilaration of men about to give battle.

It was a few minutes before 9 p.m. The officers talking with Admiral Sir Andrew Browne Cunningham did not even smoke: the whole fleet was blacked out. Sir Andrew--who is brusque and taciturn even in relaxation--spoke only in brief outbursts of instruction.

The situation was clear to all. Yesterday one of the British submarines constantly lying off Italian ports to watch for the enemy's coming out (just as Nelson's frigates, whenever there were enough, scouted the French and Genoese ports) had reported a strong Italian force hard by Cape Passero, on the southeasternmost tip of Sicily, steaming east. British forces had immediately set out from Alexandria for Suda Bay, Crete.

This morning the cruiser Orion (7,215 tons, 6-in. armament) had broached into the expected path of the enemy fleet, reported by air reconnaissance to have divided into a northern squadron--two battleships covered by cruisers and destroyers --and a southern squadron--one battleship similarly covered. The Orion was to try to decoy the southern squadron into a night trap. Toward evening the main British force followed the flagship Warspite into the Ionian Sea between Sicily and Greece toward the hoped-for area of conflict. A few light Greek vessels put out to join them.

But already the Italians had been attacked. Bombers and torpedo planes from a British carrier (probably the brand-new Formidable, whose presence in the Eastern Mediterranean was confirmed last week) buzzed around the southern squadron. They concentrated on the battleship, later identified as the Vittorio Veneto (35,000 tons, 15-inchers), which was hurt in the Taranto raid on Nov. 11 but had been repaired. Three torpedoes found the Vittorio Veneto's hull, probably in the stern works, and cut her speed from 32 to 15 knots.

Dusk had fallen and now the British knew they were near the southern squadron. They knew they were going to have a fight after all these months of wake-riding. They knew that at last they were going to shake the living rivets out of the Eyeties.

Action. The British capital ships--Warspite (30,600 tons, 15-inchers), Valiant (sister) and Barham (35,100 tons, 15-inchers)--worked along with caution. Destroyers screened them. All crews were at battle stations: spotters crouching behind cold searchlights, signalers at smaller lights, gun crews working with dims, secondary TIME, April 7, 1941 batteries all set with star shells. Control officers strained their hungry eyes.

Just after 9 o'clock a dark shadow was sighted; an unidentified vessel hove to. She was probably Vittorio Veneto. Sir Andrew grunted a terse order: "Close position."

By 10 p.m. the vessels had tightened to a line of battle. At 10:20 a number of darkened ships loomed up on their starboard bow. Simultaneously they were challenged by an enemy vessel on the port beam. Admiral Cunningham decided to sheer away from the lone vessel and engage the others. He ordered all ships 90DEG to starboard.

This maneuver brought the line on opposite course to the enemy ships, so that the two lines were about to pass in contrary directions along each other's full length. The enemy vessels were unusually close. So close that star shells were apparently not even necessary.

The destroyer Greyhound (1,335 tons, 4-7-in. guns) flicked on a searchlight. By great good luck the glare squarely silhouetted the third ship in the Italian line, the cruiser Fiume (10,000 tons, 8-inchers).-- At this exceedingly close range, Warspite, whose heavy batteries had been brought to readiness, spoke up with a broadside of 15-inchers. The whole broadside found its mark. The Fiume burst into flames from foremast funnel to sternpost. The after turret flopped right into the sea. Warspite let her have another broadside. Fiume was now afire and hopelessly crippled.

By now the whole British Fleet was swinging into action. Admiral Cunningham ordered fire switched to the next in line. This was the Zara, sister to Fiume. Again the first salvo struck fire. The Pola, another sister of Fiume and Zara, was engaged. At one stage both Pola and Zara hung white sheets over their sides to indicate surrender. Barham blew the destroyers Vincenzo Gioberti (1,729 tons, 4.7-in. guns) and the Maestrale (1,449 tons, 4.7-in. guns) to bits as they tried to duck into smoke screens.

At this point searchlights picked up two other Italian destroyers ideally placed for torpedo attack on the British Fleet. They bore away and launched torpedoes. Churning white wakes in the darkness, the torpedoes passed between the British ships without a hit. The most aggressive admiral could not take such risks with his battleships. Sir Andrew turned the capital ships away and ordered the British destroyers to go in and finish the hurt cruisers.

The British destroyers--of which there must have been at least two divisions, eight craft--cut the sea up with torpedoes. Most of the destroyers carried eight torpedoes. The Havock, Captain Watkins, which gave a good account of herself at Narvik, signaled the flagship: "I am hanging onto the stern of the Pola. Shall I board her or blow her stern off with depth charges? Haven't any torpedoes left." But another destroyer got the Pola.

Post-Mortem. By midnight the action was over, the northern Italian squadron had never joined battle. Later eight reconnaissance planes flew out over the scene and saw hundreds of Italians on life rafts. British units came back and picked up over 900 men--and found two ways to rub into Benito Mussolini's hide his Axis commitments. They announced that there were 35 German officers, petty officers and seaman-gunners among the survivors. And the Admiralty declared: "It would have been possible to save 200 or 300 more but for attacks by German bombers on the ships engaged in the task of rescuing Italian seamen." Judging by the complements of the lost ships, about 1,500 Italians had perished.

As the Eastern Mediterranean Fleet steamed proudly back to Alexandria--with no bad damage, and not a single man having lost so much as a hand--the British indulged in glorious postmortems. When the Italians said they were positive that they had sunk a British cruiser, British who had been in the battle suddenly remembered a curious thing: after they had quit the action, they had heard gunfire --could it be that the Italians had sunk one of their own?

Battleships. The Italians had started the war with six battleships, had perhaps commissioned two more since. Three had been damaged at Taranto, but two were probably repaired since. The Vittorio Veneto, which was commanded in this engagement by Chief of Staff Admiral Arturo Riccardi, was hurt again. Net: maximum, six; minimum, three.

Cruisers. Of 22 at war's beginning, one armored and two light cruisers had been sunk. In this action three heavies were sunk. Net: 16.

Destroyers. There had been 126 at war's beginning. Eleven had previously been definitely sunk. Two more were sunk in this action. Net: 113.

For the British, the battle meant much.

It meant that the Mediterranean was definitely and finally theirs. It meant that lines of communications for important adventures in the Balkans were relatively secure. It meant that units might now be freed for the Battle of the Atlantic.* If the British claim of absolutely no loss was true, this was about as decisive and about as shameful a defeat as any supposedly first-rate fleet had ever suffered.

* A lucky searchlight hit similarly caught the British armored cruiser Black Prince unawares at Jutland, the last big night engagement, and she blew up. * This week the R.A.F. announced that bomber pilots had found the Atlantic raiders Scharnhorst and Gneisenau in Brest, had dropped bombs all around them.

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