The Sinking of HMS Glorious
- Matthew Camilleri
- Mar 29
- 15 min read
On 8th June 1940, the Royal Navy suffered one of its most devastating defeats of the Second World War when the aircraft carrier HMS Glorious was sunk in the Norwegian Sea along with her two escorting destroyers, HMS Ardent and HMS Acasta, after they had been intercepted by the German battleships Scharnhorst and Gneisenau. This tragic incident, which resulted in the death of 1,531 officers and men from the three warships, continues to be mired in controversy to this day.
HMS Glorious began her life as a First World War battlecruiser, part of the Courageous-class, alongside HMS Courageous and HMS Furious. Her keel was laid down in Belfast in May 1915. She was launched in April 1916 and completed in October of that same year at just under £2,000,000. The Courageous-class battlecruisers were fast but lightly armoured, with only a few heavy guns. Glorious had a maximum speed of 32 knots and a main armament of four 15-inch guns arranged in two twin turrets. She would spend the remainder of the war patrolling the North Sea, being present at the Second Battle of Heligoland Bight in November 1917 and during the surrender of the German High Seas Fleet a year later. However, the role of the battlecruisers in naval warfare was relatively short-lived, and in February 1919, Glorious was placed in reserve at Rosyth, Scotland.
The Washington Naval Treaty of 1922 limited the tonnage and construction of capital ships. However, up to 66,000 tons of existing ships could be converted into aircraft carriers, which were becoming increasingly important due to the rise of naval aviation. Recognising this shift, the Royal Navy opted to convert the three Courageous-class battlecruisers into aircraft carriers. Glorious began her conversion at Rosyth in 1924 and was completed in Devonport in 1930. The conversion had included the removal of her gun turrets, torpedo tubes, and all of the superstructure down to the main deck, as well as the addition of a full-length armoured flight deck, connected by two lifts to a huge two-floor hangar beneath it, and other necessary installations to facilitate aircraft operations.
Between March and June 1930, Glorious was attached to the Home Fleet, after which she relieved Courageous in the Mediterranean, where she would serve until October 1939, although, between July 1934 and July 1935, she underwent a refit at Devonport. Glorious also participated in the Coronation Fleet Review for King George VI at Spithead on 20th May 1937. Following the outbreak of World War Two, she was dispatched to the South Atlantic to join the hunt for the German pocket battleship Admiral Graf Spee, which was later scuttled off Montevideo, Uruguay. Glorious then returned to the Mediterranean before being recalled to the Home Fleet in April 1940 to support British operations in Norway.
The Norwegian Campaign involved a series of naval and land confrontations as the Allies attempted to thwart the German invasion and secure crucial supply routes. Glorious would play a significant role. On 24th April, she arrived off the coast of Norway alongside the aircraft carrier HMS Ark Royal. Eighteen Gloster Gladiators of No. 263 Squadron RAF, which had landed on the carrier at Scapa Flow, were flown to Norwegian land bases, while Blackburn Skuas and Sea Gladiators of the Fleet Air Arm, stationed on board, attacked targets around Trondheim. Three days later, Glorious set sail for Scapa Flow to refuel and take on new aircraft. Between April and June, she would make five round trips between Norway and the Orkneys. On 26th May, during her second-to-last visit, eighteen Hawker Hurricanes of No. 46 Squadron RAF were successfully flown off. These had been loaded aboard by crane and became the first Hurricanes to take off from the flight deck of an aircraft carrier.
In early June, it was decided to evacuate all Allied forces from Norway. With the Dunkirk debacle unfolding at the same time, some 18,000 British servicemen, along with all their equipment, needed to be brought back to Britain for home defence. The evacuation, codenamed Operation Alphabet, began on 4th June. Together with Ark Royal, Glorious took up station off Narvik on 2nd June, carrying a reduced number of her own aircraft to allow for the embarkation of the RAF Gladiators and Hurricanes. Indeed, ten Gladiators of No. 263 Squadron were flown aboard from their base at Bardufoss on 7th June.
The Hurricanes of No. 46 Squadron, flown in just days earlier, were still stranded ashore since there was no time to load them aboard with cranes, nor could the aircraft carriers risk docking. Since the Hurricanes did not have the range to reach Scotland, it seemed that the best course of action was to burn them to deny them to the Germans. Instead, it was decided to attempt, for the first time ever, to land high-performance aircraft on a carrier without the aid of arrester gear. By placing sandbags in the tails of the Hurricanes and slightly deflating their tyres, it was hoped that they would be slowed down enough to stop them from overshooting the flight deck. Glorious was chosen for the task due to her wider lifts, which would allow the fixed-winged Hurricanes to be stowed in the hangars. Early on 8th June, all the Hurricanes were successfully landed - a remarkable feat considering the circumstances.
Shortly after the last Hurricane had landed, Glorious was granted permission to sail for Scapa Flow with just two escorting destroyers - HMS Ardent, commanded by Lieutenant Commander John F. Barker DSC, and HMS Acasta, under the command of Commander Charles E. Glasfurd. The decision to sail independently of the main convoy, which would later attract intense scrutiny, has often been attributed to the captain of HMS Glorious, 48-year-old Captain Guy D'Oyly-Hughes DSO & Bar, DSC.
Born in Salt Lake City, Utah, USA, to British parents in 1891, D'Oyly-Hughes was sent to Britain to complete his education at the age of nine. He joined the Royal Navy in 1904. During World War One, he was awarded the Distinguished Service Cross and the Distinguished Service Order whilst serving as First Lieutenant on the submarine HMS E11 during the Dardanelles Campaign. The incident which led to the award of the DSO saw him single-handedly swimming ashore to blow up a section of the Constantinople-Baghdad Railway, before making his escape. He later received a bar to his DSO following a successful torpedo attack on a German U-boat whilst in command of HMS E35. By the outbreak of World War Two, he had reached the rank of captain and had been given command of HMS Glorious.
While his courage was never questioned, he was often perceived as a strict disciplinarian with limited people management skills, particularly in dealing with his officers, from whom he expected the same high standards he upheld. In the early 1930s, he had learned to fly and, perhaps as a consequence, believed he knew better than the senior aviators aboard his ship, whose advice he consistently dismissed. His anger was frequently directed at his Commander (Air), John B. Heath. Tensions had escalated during one of the trips to Norway. Glorious was ordered to send her Swordfish torpedo bombers to land bases, from where they were to attack German positions. Heath objected, arguing that the aircraft were ill-suited for such a mission and that the carrier would be left defenceless. D'Oyly-Hughes was so furious at his insubordination that upon returning to Scapa Flow, he had Heath arrested and removed from the ship to await a court martial.
In the meantime, whilst Glorious was making her final trip back to Scapa Flow with her two escorting destroyers, danger lurked just over the horizon. Unbeknownst to the British, on 4th June, the Germans had launched Operation Juno: A naval sortie into the Norwegian Sea by a battlegroup under the command of Admiral Wilhelm Marschall and comprising the battleships Scharnhorst and Gneisenau, the heavy cruiser Admiral Hipper, and four destroyers. Marschall’s orders were to attack the British base at Harstad and support the German advance towards Narvik. After departing from Kiel, they steamed through the Skagerrak, relying on fog to hide them from RAF reconnaissance flights. Nonetheless, increased naval radio traffic had led to British intelligence warning the Admiralty of a possible breakout, while at least one Norwegian coastal observer reported sighting the ships. These warnings went unheeded.
On 7th June, while preparing to attack Allied shipping in the Harstad area, Marschall realised that the British were evacuating and decided to intercept the troop convoys. By the following morning, he had failed to locate them. Abandoning the search, he dispatched Admiral Hipper and the four destroyers to Trondheim to refuel, after which they were to provide naval artillery support for German troops advancing on Narvik. Marschall, flying his flag on Gneisenau, and in company with Scharnhorst, would continue towards Harstad. These were two of the Kriegsmarine’s most powerful warships, displacing some 38,000 tons each, yet capable of speeds of up to 31 knots, and equipped with three main turrets, each with three 11-inch guns.
At 3.46 pm on 8th June, Glorious and her escorts had reached a point about 450 kilometres west of Harstad, heading southwards towards Scapa Flow. They were steaming at 17 knots, zigzagging to throw off any lurking German U-boats. No aircraft were being flown to provide air cover, and none were even on the flight deck, ready to take off quickly should the need arise. Later, it also emerged that there was not even a lookout in Glorious’s crow’s nest, despite the calm sea and good visibility, which would have allowed any potential threats to be seen early. Instead, it was the Germans who sighted their quarry first. A lookout on Scharnhorst spotted smoke around 40 kilometres away, after which Glorious’ mast came into view. There was no way Marschall was going to turn down this opportunity, so he ordered his ships to increase speed and turn to intercept.
At 4 pm, D'Oyly-Hughes was informed that two unknown ships had been sighted, heading towards Glorious. Ardent was ordered to investigate and sped off towards them to determine their identity. In the meantime, Glorious held her course and speed, although orders were given for five Swordfish to be armed with torpedoes and brought up on deck from the hangar. Twenty minutes later, the ship was brought to action stations as the German battleships continued to close the range. At 4.27 pm, Ardent flashed a challenge, which was answered by a salvo from Gneisenau at a range of 15 kilometres. Straightaway, Ardent was hit in her forward boiler room, forcing her to reduce speed. She immediately began zigzagging to evade further hits whilst laying smoke to mask her position.
Ardent and Acasta were two of eight A-class destroyers built for the Royal Navy in the 1920s. They displaced just over 1,750 tons each, roughly 22 times smaller than the German battleships they were about to take on. However, their respective captains were determined not to go down without a fight. Their main armament consisted of four 4.7-inch guns, along with 21-inch torpedoes. Ardent began making repeated torpedo attacks whenever she emerged from the smoke, although all were successfully evaded. Acasta remained alongside the carrier, also making smoke, whilst returning fire, even though her guns lacked the range to reach the battleships. Both destroyers were skilfully handled, with the Germans struggling to hit their targets, despite having Seetakt radar to assist the gun-laying.
By now, however, Scharnhorst had closed to within 26 kilometres of Glorious and, at 4.32 pm, opened fire on the carrier. Six minutes later, she achieved a hit with her third salvo when a shell went right through the flight deck and exploded in the hangar below, starting a large fire which destroyed some of the aircraft. A ruptured steam line also caused a momentary decrease in speed. At 4.46 pm, Gneisenau also opened fire on Glorious whilst continuing to engage Ardent with her secondary armament. At 4.58 pm, she too scored a hit when a shell struck the bridge structure, killing most of the personnel there, including D'Oyly-Hughes. For the survivors, the ordeal was only just beginning.
For the next twenty minutes, Ardent's smokescreen became effective enough to hide Glorious from view. However, she herself emerged from the smoke at 5.01 pm and was repeatedly hit, causing her to lose speed. She continued manoeuvring, even managing a hit with her 4.7-inch guns on Scharnhorst and firing one last torpedo that narrowly missed its target before, at 5.25 pm, she finally capsized and sank. In the meantime, the smoke around Glorious had dissipated, and the carrier again came under heavy fire, receiving hit after hit. One shell struck the engine room, slowing the ship down and causing her to turn helplessly in circles. She also developed a list to starboard. Acasta now left her side and advanced towards the enemy for a torpedo attack. While the Germans engaged the destroyer with their secondary weapons, they continued to pound the carrier at close range. Glorious finally sank at 6.10 pm.
Acasta, in the meantime, was still fighting back. At one point, Scharnhorst's forward turret was hit by a 4.7-inch shell. Although the damage from this was negligible, one of Acasta’s torpedoes finally found its target, with far more serious consequences. A large hole was torn in Scharnhorst's side, allowing some 2,500 tonnes of water into the ship, which developed a 5-degree list and was forced to reduce speed to 20 knots. Apart from damage to the ship’s machinery and starboard propeller shaft, the rear turret was disabled, and 48 men were killed. Yet, Acasta continued to be hit, and, at 6.20 pm, she too disappeared beneath the water. Fearing that more powerful Allied warships might be on the way, Marschall decided to make a hasty withdrawal. Gneisenau and the damaged Scharnhorst sped off towards Trondheim without stopping to pick up survivors.
Around 1,000 men were in the sea, desperately clinging onto Carley floats. Yet, the Royal Navy was unaware of what had happened, and thus no rescue was ordered. The first inkling came the following day after an announcement on German radio, but it was only on 10th June that the Admiralty finally accepted reality. By this point, many of the original survivors had succumbed to exposure. That afternoon, five men were rescued by the Norwegian vessel Svalbard II, which was sighted by a German aircraft and forced to return to Norway. One of the men subsequently died, while the other four became POWs. That night, another 38 men were picked up by another Norwegian ship, Borgund, which took them to the Faroe Islands. Of these, three men later died. Finally, on 13th June, two men were rescued by a German seaplane and taken into captivity. One of them subsequently died, bringing the total number of survivors to 40, including one each from Acasta and Ardent. The total killed or missing was 1,531.
The aftermath of this tragedy was marked by intense debate and controversy as politicians, naval officers, and the public sought an explanation as to how this had been allowed to happen. An aircraft carrier and two destroyers had been lost, along with two RAF fighter squadrons. It could have been far worse had the torpedo hit on Scharnhorst not brought a premature end to Operation Juno, as Ark Royal’s troop convoy could have been targeted next. The relatives of those lost wanted answers to their many questions. An Admiralty Board of Enquiry into the loss of the three ships was concluded just 18 days after the sinkings, relying on testimony from the few survivors. Its findings were then sealed until 2041. HMS Glorious remains the only aircraft carrier to have a 100-year Secrecy Act imposed on it, which only added fuel to several conspiracy theories.
The main controversy has always been the decision to allow Glorious to sail ahead of the main convoy, leaving her vulnerable to attack. While many blamed D'Oyly-Hughes for this decision, it was Vice-Admiral (Aircraft Carriers) Lionel V. Wells, on board Ark Royal, who granted permission. The official explanation has always been that, due to a fuel shortage, Glorious had to sail at a lower speed and thus had to leave earlier. However, later analysis of the carrier’s fuel usage on the earlier trips from Scapa Flow to Norway suggests this would not have been an issue. Was there another reason why she had left early?
One theory that emerged later suggested that the reason D'Oyly-Hughes had been in such a rush to return to Scapa Flow was to initiate court-martial proceedings against Commander Heath, who had defied him. But would Wells have permitted him to risk an aircraft carrier and two destroyers over such a trivial matter? In June 1940, with Britain facing the threat of invasion, this seemed unlikely. It also seems improbable that with everything that was going on, disciplining Heath would have been high on D’Oyly-Hughes’ list of priorities, especially since he had already had him removed from the ship anyway.
Another point of contention revolved around the ship’s state of readiness and lack of security precautions, in particular, the lack of air cover. An aircraft carrier’s primary strength lies in its airborne capabilities, but, for some unknown reason, many of the carrier’s aircraft were below decks and not in immediate readiness to launch. This left Glorious extremely vulnerable, especially when traversing such dangerous waters. On the day of the sinkings, visibility had been excellent, meaning that any aircraft flying over her would have spotted the enemy warships much earlier, giving her a chance to escape.
The failure to mount a timely rescue was also questioned. Why had no enemy sighting report been received? Survivors later asserted that radio messages had indeed been broadcast by Glorious, indicating that she was under attack. Perhaps they had lacked signal strength or had been transmitted on different frequencies. Yet, it later emerged that one ship had indeed received them. The heavy cruiser HMS Devonshire, flying the flag of Vice-Admiral John Cunningham, had passed within 80 kilometres of the action whilst carrying out a top-secret mission: She had been instructed to evacuate Norway’s King Haakon VII, his family, and other government officials to Britain. Her orders were to steam home independently at full speed and in complete radio silence. Cunningham later claimed that the messages had been garbled, but Devonshire’s log book shows that she came to action stations, increased speed, and exercised her main armament soon after - an indication that she was aware of a surface threat. Perhaps Cunningham had decided to follow his orders to the letter and left Glorious to her fate.
While most of the blame for this tragedy seems to have been attributed to D'Oyly-Hughes, who undoubtedly would have had to answer some very difficult questions had he survived, not the same can be said for the captains of the two destroyers. Lt. Cdr. Barker and Cdr. Glasfurd were both recommended for posthumous Victoria Crosses for their part in the battle. The recommendations were, however, turned down due to a lack of surviving eyewitnesses. Even when German reports emerged after the war, detailing their outstanding bravery, renewed calls for the two men to be recognised were once again turned down. The explanation given was that re-opening the case would undoubtedly lead to a re-opening of the enquiry. It was as though the Admiralty wanted the whole episode to be forgotten.
In 2019, Lt. Cdr. Barker’s grandson, Ben Barker, offered a new theory as to why Glorious had sailed independently. In 1939, 82% of Germany’s iron ore imports came from Sweden. Winston Churchill, then First Lord of the Admiralty, was convinced that if these supplies were to be cut off, the war might be greatly foreshortened. He thus came up with Operation Catherine, a plan to send old, heavily modified battleships into the Baltic to wreak havoc and sink ore carriers. Churchill also believed that this show of force would encourage the Scandinavian nations to join the war against Germany. Although the idea was eventually dropped, Churchill soon concocted another plan, this time codenamed Operation Paul. He proposed that aircraft launched from aircraft carriers off the Norwegian coast would fly across the Scandinavian peninsula to lay mines in the Swedish port of Luleå, to block ore exports.
The original plan called for three aircraft carriers and 78 Swordfish. Yet, an order issued by the First Sea Lord, Admiral of the Fleet Sir Dudley Pound, in the early hours of 8th June stated that the operation was to go ahead on a reduced scale using just one carrier - Ark Royal - and 18 Swordfish due to the risks involved. Officially, Operation Paul was eventually scrapped. Could it be that the mission was secretly entrusted to Glorious instead? After all, it is known that some of her Swordfish had been equipped with long-range fuel tanks, which might also explain why they had not been ready for action when the German battleships appeared since they were being prepared for a totally different type of action. It would also explain all the secrecy: Operation Paul could have soured Anglo-Swedish relations for years to come and might even have brought Sweden into the war against the Allies. Although Barker’s case is indeed intriguing, the Ministry of Defence dismissed the theory.
The exact circumstances around the loss of the three ships are still unclear today, more than 80 years after the event. The official account still does not quite add up, and several controversies have never been satisfactorily answered. Perhaps they never will be. The most important thing is that those who gave their lives are not forgotten. The three ships and the men who sailed in them are still commemorated in Plymouth each June by the HMS Glorious, Ardent & Acasta Association (GLARAC), which helps keep their memory alive.
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