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 90° to starboard.