During World War II, the Royal Navy faced substantial losses, including HMS Hood, Royal Oak, Barham, Prince of Wales, and the Glorious. The sinking of each capital ship triggered a demand for accountability, often leading to scandal and controversy. Notably, HMS Hood’s explosion raised concerns about design vulnerabilities and tactical decisions during the encounter with the German battleship Bismarck.
The sinking of Royal Oak exposed weaknesses in Scapa Flow’s defenses, generating controversy due to the loss of young boys stationed on the ship and government censorship. HMS Courageous, sinking before the Glorious, highlighted carrier vulnerability to U-boats, sparking debates on carrier use, escort allocation, British intelligence, and carrier aircraft roles.
Over the decades, naval experts analyzed each loss, resulting in varied perspectives on causes and accountability. Controversies, some later disproven, persist, shaping narratives on social media, forums, publications, and documentaries. The analysis of Royal Navy capital ship losses indicates a clear trend: higher casualties lead to more significant societal impact and greater narrative development.
Glorious follows a similar pattern, standing out as a “poster child” for narrative development that challenges all aspects of the Admiralty’s and Board of Inquiry’s version of events. The sinking of Glorious, Acasta, and Ardent on June 8th, 1940, constitutes the Royal Navy’s most significant loss of life in a single engagement during World War II, with approximately 1519 sailors lost. Like Hood this loss resonated across the Empire.
In 1940, few details came out of the Admiralty report surrounding the loss of these ships; The tragedy was acknowledged, but the pressing needs of a nation fighting for survival took precedence, leaving many questions unanswered.
After the war, inquiries into the sinking of Glorious were met with halfhearted or reluctant government actions that failed to address the lingering questions. Sealed documents, blocked inquiries, and an uncooperative Admiralty fueled controversy. Limited survivor accounts led families and researchers to construct their own interpretations, sometimes accepting unverified beliefs as facts.
The widely accepted narrative of the events leading to the loss of HMS Glorious, Acasta, and Ardent is akin to a scandalous action-thriller novel, featuring heroes, villains, and unexpected twists. Serious questions linger about the truth and embellishments of this narrative. This book seeks to challenge aspects of this narrative by utilizing recently released documents and evidence that previous authors and investigators might have overlooked or that remained sealed.
Let start with the existing narrative:
On June 8th, 1940, HMS Glorious, along with the destroyers HMS Acasta and HMS Ardent, departed Northern Norway independently, leaving a heavily guarded convoy behind. The convoy, tasked with returning troops from Norway would return “a matter of hours later.” The Royal Navy cited fuel shortage as the reason for Glorious’ solo return, fearing it might not have enough fuel to reach the UK if it stayed with the fleet any longer.
This decision marks the first major controversy, where official and unofficial narratives diverge. Some argue that Glorious had sufficient fuel reserves to wait for and return with the guarded convoy, ensuring a safe return for the carrier and its crew. However, many contend that the Admiralty’s fuel shortage explanation was a cover story, intended to conceal the embarrassing reason for the Glorious returning with minimal escort.
Many believe that the premature return of HMS Glorious resulted from Captain Guy Doyly-Hughes’ personal motives, driven by anger and ego. Seeking approval from Vice Admiral Wells on the Ark Royal, Doyly-Hughes aimed to bring the Glorious back to the UK independently to expedite the court martial of Glorious’ Commander Flying, Edward Heath. Doyly-Hughes’ vindictiveness, fueled by Heath’s prior disobedience in Norway, led him to risk Glorious, Acasta, and Ardent by rushing back to the UK away from the safety of the convoys – all to prosecute one man for insubordination.
A message transmitted via signal lamp from the Glorious to Ark Royal is used to support this claim.
Some investigators suggest an alternative theory, proposing that Glorious was recalled to the United Kingdom for a covert mission named Operation Paul. This controversial plan, championed by Winston Churchill, aimed to deploy sea mines in the Baltic Sea, disrupting German maritime traffic and impeding vessels transporting iron ore from Sweden.
Irrespective of the motive, Vice Admiral Wells, the officer in charge of the Carriers, approved Glorious’ departure, leaving the crucial capital ship with only two destroyers for protection. With over 1500 crew members and a valuable array of aircraft onboard, the decision to separate from the convoy deprived Glorious of the protection provided to the convoy by Royal Navy warships.
Some families claim that Vice admiral Wells wanted O’Doyly Hughes “out of his hair” and allowed the Glorious to return to get rid of this officer.
In England, codebreaker Harry Hinsley at Bletchley Park, the UK’s secretive codebreaking establishment, detected troubling wireless radio activity from German Navy bases. These messages suggested the impending deployment of capital ships to the Norwegian Sea. Some supporters go further, asserting that the British had cracked the German encryption machine, “Enigma,” allowing them to decipher the messages. Hinsley, armed with this information, tried to alert his superiors at Bletchley and the Admiralty. The Admiralty dismissed the warnings, deeming them the musings of a “jumped-up civilian” or, as some accounts suggest, to protect the intelligence source. If they had heeded Hinsley’s warnings, fifteen hundred lives could have been saved.
Another theory suggests that Glorious was intentionally kept uninformed due to the presence of the Royal Navy cruiser HMS Devonshire secretly transporting Norwegian VIPs, including King Haakon and Prince Olav, back to the UK. Some accounts even propose that Devonshire carried the Norwegian gold reserves to support the war effort. The Admiralty chose not to inform the Glorious, using it as a sacrificial distraction to protect the Devonshire, enabling the cruiser with its important passengers and gold to slip past the Germans.
Hinsley’s predictions of a German breakout proved accurate. In early June, the German battleships Scharnhorst and Gneisenau, along with the heavy cruiser Admiral Hipper and several destroyers, left Kiel, disappearing into the vast Norwegian Sea. Codenamed Operation Juno, the German mission aimed to attack British shipping in Northern Norway and relieve pressure on German troops in Northern Norway. Unbeknownst to the Germans, the Allied forces had decided to abandon Norway and were in the process of evacuating their troops to the UK.
As Glorious sailed toward the UK, it didn’t conduct reconnaissance patrols, an oversight which many consider the primary factor in its loss. Some argue that the captain’s distraction with the Court Martial and a lack of understanding or trust in aircraft, rooted in his background as an ex-submariner, played a role. Alternatively, accounts suggest that RAF fighters on board earlier that morning obstructed the flight deck, disrupting operations and preventing Glorious from launching aircraft for defense. The absence of a Combat Air Patrol left the British unaware of the approaching German threat, resulting in fatal consequences.
Compounding its vulnerability, Glorious sailed with a reduced number of operational boilers, lacked lookouts in the crow’s nest, and had its aircraft armaments removed and stored. The ship was equipped with 16 single 4.7 in (120 mm) guns, loaded solely with munitions for engaging aircraft; no ammunition was available at the guns for use against ships. Operating at the fourth degree of readiness, the ship exhibited a prevailing sense of lethargy throughout.
In the early hours of June 8th, German Admiral Wilhelm Marschall, aboard the battleship Gneisenau positioned south of the Glorious, accurately deduced the Allied forces’ evacuation of Norway. He launched a search for convoys heading to the UK to attack and sink as many ships as possible.
Marschall’s fleet quickly achieved success by sinking three Allied vessels (Juniper, Oil Pioneer, Orama) in rapid succession. After these victories, he mistakenly assumed that the Royal Navy was aware of his fleet’s presence. Consequently, he divided his forces: Admiral Hipper and the destroyers headed to German-held Trondheim, while he took the Scharnhorst and Gneisenau north to rendezvous with a German supply ship before determining the next course of action.
Beneath clear skies and calm seas, the two opposing forces inadvertently closed in on each other. Tension heightened on the German ships as lookouts on the Scharnhorst spotted distant smoke. Strategically, Admiral Marschall positioned his battleships upwind to hinder the enemy’s firing capability, also impeding a carrier’s ability to launch aircraft. Soon after, the outline of an aircraft carrier revealed itself, prompting the German ships to swiftly move and engage before it could deploy aircraft against their advancing battleships.
Despite lacking lookouts, the British eventually spotted the ships about fifteen minutes after being detected. In response, the destroyer HMS Ardent was dispatched to investigate, while the Glorious maintained its course. A sailor was sent to the crow’s nest aboard the Glorious to aid in identifying the unknown ships. As Ardent closed in, it signaled a challenge with its lamp, but received no response from the approaching vessels. The unsettling realization dawned that they were not friendly; instead, they were the pride of the German Navy—the Scharnhorst and its sister, the Gneisenau.
Chaos now ensued.
The Glorious transmitted a wireless radio contact report to alert Royal Navy ships of enemy forces, sparking controversy over whether it was broadcast on the wrong frequency. Despite this, HMS Devonshire, a few miles away, reportedly received Glorious’ contact report. However, being on a mission to evacuate the Norwegian Royal Family and VIPs to the UK, and following Winston Churchill’s orders for strict radio silence, Devonshire did not respond. Instead, it continued its journey, exercising its main guns should they been needed.
Onboard the Glorious, a race against time ensued to prepare its Swordfish torpedo bomber, the carrier’s primary weapon against the approaching German battleships. Simultaneously, the two destroyers started laying smoke screens to conceal the Glorious from German range finders and artillery.
Hindered by a lack of operational boilers, the Glorious struggled to increase speed and outrun its opponents, allowing the Germans to gain ground. Despite valiant efforts, HMS Ardent, tasked with investigating the unknown ships, found itself outgunned and outclassed. It bravely launched a series of attacks against the advancing German ships but was eventually sent to the seabed by the battleships. Only two survivors were later rescued by a German float plane, one of them succumbing to wounds.
Onboard Glorious, torpedoes were hastily brought up for loading onto the Swordfish, which had been armed with bombs instead of torpedoes. Relentless fire from Scharnhorst and Gneisenau inflicted significant damage on the carrier. The third salvo, setting a record for the longest battleship hit at the time, struck the Glorious from approximately 26,400 yards, destroying the aircraft that were being prepared on the flight deck and those in the hangar below.
Fifteen minutes later, another hit wiped out the bridge, leading to the death of the captain and numerous senior officers. The accurate German gunnery also damaged critical engine room equipment, causing the Glorious to slow down. The German ships closed in, relentlessly pounding the stricken carrier.
Amidst the fury of a blazing inferno, surrounded by whirling shrapnel, and the Glorious listing further with each fleeting moment, the command to abandon ship circulated among the surviving crew members.
Watching the burning Glorious slowly capsizing were the crew of the remaining destroyer, HMS Acasta.
Considering the odds, the Acasta’s captain could have chosen to break contact, but instead he decided to fight. Notifying the crew through the ship’s Tannoy, he turned to face the approaching enemy.
Emerging from its smoke screen with guns blazing, the Acasta surprised the Germans. In a courageous last stand, praised by the enemy commander, the Acasta launched desperate attacks against the approaching German battleships, which retaliated. In a final defiant act, torpedoes from the mortally wounded Acasta caused significant damage to the Scharnhorst, hitting near the aft turret and claiming around fifty German lives.
The explosion ripped through Scharnhorst’s aft section. The German commander, believing the torpedo couldn’t have come from Acasta, incorrectly assumed a submarine was operating in the area and swiftly withdrew, leaving the survivors of the battle in the water.
Despite the German victory, the damage to the Scharnhorst led to the abandonment of the mission to head north and attack Allied convoys. Acasta’s final torpedo ultimately saved countless lives.
After the German ships disappeared, hundreds of men were left drifting in the freezing Arctic water. Many succumbed to drowning or hypothermia within the first few hours, while some survived for three days until rescued by Norwegian trawlers, as their own Navy failed to launch a rescue.
A hastily convened Navy Board of Inquiry investigated the loss, concluding that the Glorious planes were fully utilized the day before, the carrier was unprepared for combat, and the Germans had engaged it at a range far beyond the carriers 3.5” guns. The report lacked substance, heavily relying on German descriptions that confused the roles of Acasta and Ardent. Cyril Carter’s account, the sole surviving crew member of Acasta, was ignored, and the British accepted the German version. Carter faced years of abuse for allegedly trying to steal the glory from Ardent’s heroic last stand.
Records related to the incident were sealed for 100 years with a release date of 2041, suggesting either an embarrassing blunder or a secretive mission. After the defeat of Nazi Germany, captured documents validated Carter’s story and clarified many aspects of the battle. Under pressure from Parliament, the account of Acasta’s last stand was subsequently updated.
If the Admiralty could overlook such a crucial detail, what other inaccuracies might be present in their inquiry?
Attempts to reopen the investigation into the loss were fruitless, and subsequent Navy reports offered no further insights into the events. Interest in the June 8th events has ebbed and flowed over the years, interest increasing with notable publications such as “Carrier Glorious” by John Winton and the documentary “The Tragedy of HMS Glorious.”
These influential sources have significantly shaped public perception of June 8th. However, recent findings in intelligence archives challenge various aspects of the existing narrative, overlooked by previous authors. The discovery of these documents not only reshapes the understanding of June 8th but also strongly suggests that Admiralty reports, extending into the 1990s, were deeply flawed and contradicted the actual events detailed in their own archives and reports. Reports, including those authored by Vice Admiral Wells, also contradict many of the claims that persist today.
This book will analyze whether this discrepancy results from a deliberate cover-up or incompetence.
Ultimately, this book’s findings offer a detailed understanding of June 8th, revealing decisions that could have cost more lives and showcasing how the loss of the Glorious ultimately contributed to the Allies winning the war. There is more to this story than meets the eye, confirming the families’ suspicions that something was amiss. In the following chapters, we will conduct a detailed analysis of the Glorious’ final trip to Norway and address the associated controversies.