That night, the aircraft from Illustrious dropped ten tons of bombs on Leros while we passed along the north coast of Crete. It was a bright moonlit night and the planes took off at 2000. The attack was a complete surprise and many direct hits were obtained. The moonlight was so bright that one pilot was able to distinguish the house of the Commander-in-Chief, so he dropped a bomb on it.

From this sortie, the fifteen planes returned undamaged at 0130. Just prior to dawn, we passed safely through Kaso Channel and met the battle fleet at 1030 Monday, October 14.

At 1100, RDF (2) reports started coming in of numerous formations of enemy aircraft, and at 1235 nine bombers attacked the fleet. One stick of bombs straddled Liverpool and a very close one landed just by the chute on the port side. The force of the explosion lifted the whole ship, and the heat blackened the paint on that side. Many dishes were broken but the fire control instruments remained intact. A few minutes after this explosion, the HACP (3) table was started up again in order to deal with three more bombers already quite close to the ship. Just as the switches were made, a fuse blew out so the instrument had to be clutched into hand. By the time this evolution was completed, the planes had dropped their bombs (fortunately badly aimed) and were out of range. We later discovered that the previous near miss had shaken a bit of metal into some gears which jammed and caused the fuse to burn out. At the time I thought that it might have been an Italian fuse.

This attack occurred at 1445. At 1510, HMS Ramillies (battleship) opened fire on something we could not see from our ship, and we expected aircraft over at any minute. However, none came and shortly thereafter we learned she had been firing at a submarine which dived immediately after the first salvo.

And now I record the tragedy of HMS Liverpool and the death of a great friend, one of the five to first go to sea with me, and the youngest member of the Gun Room.

On the evening of Monday, October 14, we were steaming in company with the battle fleet about seventy miles south of Crete. Paravanes had been streamed and Liverpool had just taken her station for the night. It was another bright moonlit night with many cloud banks hovering in the sky, and I was just sitting down to a delightful dinner. Suddenly at 1845, action stations were sounded and I dropped my soup spoon to rush to the HACP. No one could understand why we should be closing up at such a time when "stand by night action stations" had just secured.

At 1853, an aircraft was sighted crossing and re-crossing our bows. As there was only one pom-pom crew closed up, they rushed from one side of the ship to the other trying to get a shot at the machine. In a few minutes, the aircraft steadied up to come in on the starboard beam, and the starboard pom-pom fired four rounds at it. The ship swung around hard to starboard as a torpedo was seen to fall from the plane. Only one was seen to fall, but another was reported to have passed astern, and at 1856 we were struck on the starboard side abreast the centre line capstan. The ship gave a sickening lift under the force of the explosion. The D/F pole snapped off at the topmast, and the bridge and pom-pom decks were showered with petrol. Petrol fumes began to seep through the entire ship by way of the ventilation trunks, and the engines had to be stopped (4).

In the HACP we heard the pom-poms open fire and guessed immediately that torpedo bombers must have been attacking. After a horrible few seconds of waiting, an explosion rocked the compartment like a full broadside with no recoil. I tested communications after ordering the crew to the top of the hatch and, on finding all correct in spite of the shaking up, I ordered the crew back down. Petrol fumes started coming down the ventilation trunks so I ordered the men to put out their cigarettes. Here I might add that the men remained perfectly calm and silent through these horrible moments of doubt.

I found out later that Illustrious and Valiant were attacked at the same time as Liverpool by two aircraft on each ship. They had received RDF warnings on these aircraft well in advance of the attack, so when the planes came in, the whole armament of both ships was trained on them and they were riddled with shot before they had an opportunity to drop their torpedoes. It is thought by some that those planes were German. RDF reports were also received in Liverpool, but the rating on watch in the remote control office was new to his job and, not knowing what the reports were, failed to pass them up to the compass platform. This episode is a glaring example of a ship's dependence upon the individual ... the chain suddenly grew taut and broke at a weak point.

We waited in the HACP. "A" turret's crew was cleared from the turret. Ammunition supply numbers were ordered up from below. "A" and "B" magazines and shell rooms were flooded, and fire and repair parties were piped forward.

At 1920, the petrol compartments exploded with a blast like ten torpedoes. The two ton armoured top of "A" turret was blown sixty feet in the air. The turret itself was whipped around from a starboard to a port bearing, with the right gun aimed at the moon, the centre gun bent and trained on Arcturus, and the left gun dropping into the sea. The whole of the foc'sle deck became a blazing inferno of twisted metal that hung limply to the ship, rising and falling with the swell--a beacon for enemy aircraft. Hands were ordered to fall in by divisions, so we vacated the HACP. On coming up from below, I passed the sick bay where the most ghastly sight I have ever seen presented itself. The dead and wounded were lying about on stretchers. The sick bay was full, and many had to be left on the deck while those still coming in were being moved aft to the wardroom and gun room flat. Dazed men were wandering about with all the clothes burned off their blistered and bleeding bodies. The smell of burnt flesh and the groaning and suffering were so horrible, I cannot write about it.

Boats and Carley floats were ordered out so I went up to the four-inch gun deck to see that my number thirteen float was correct. On finding the float correct, I went aft to the quarterdeck where the majority of the ship's company was fallen in, and watched the preparations for being taken in tow astern. By this time the ship was down by the bows with a list to starboard. The fire cast an ugly glow on the sea, and we expected another attack at any minute.

The pinnace and motorboat were hoisted out by the crane. The power had not failed and the lights continued to burn brightly.

At 2000 a destroyer arrived and in the next hour, Gloucester, Orion, Calcutta and Coventry also came to our assistance. We commenced to go astern in order to swing the ship around to get better control of the fire and also to have our stern roughly in the direction of Alexandria. On going astern, the motor boat, pinnace and two Carley floats broke adrift and were lost. A large fire was burning for'ard with intermittent explosions in "A" turret. At 2230 Orion came up to take us in tow. At 2300 the tow was passed, and at 2330 she commenced towing astern on a course 135 degrees at 9 1/2 knots.

By this time the wardroom and gun room flat had become veritable hospitals. I wandered among the injured doing what I could to alleviate suffering, but finding my stomach too delicate, was forced to return to the quarterdeck for some fresh air.

Just before midnight I had some food in the gun room and then went for'ard to assist with the fire fighting. The fire had subsided considerably but occasionally, some oil fuel would blaze up. Four hoses were being played into the twisted mess that was once a forecastle. I took charge of the hoses from Midshipman Popert who had been in the smoke and heat from the time the hoses had been got out. We expected the forecastle to break adrift at any moment. For the first four hours of Tuesday morning, I controlled the hoses. On being relieved by Midshipman Hashim, I returned to the gunroom to get some sleep.

In the forenoon the battle fleet appeared to cover our return. At 1105 the tow parted and fouled Orion's screws. By 1430 another tow was passed and we proceeded at 9 1/2 knots. At 1425 the bow dislodged and fell off at thirty bulkhead.

Destroyers made contact with a submarine at 1430. One attacked with depth charges set to extreme depth while a Swordfish patrolled over the area. Oil and bubbles appeared about 400 yards away on our starboard beam.

It was impossible to calculate the casualties at this time as several were missing from the second explosion, and some bodies had gone down with the foc'sle. Of three officers dead, only the charred remains of Midshipman Norris were recovered that day. The body of the senior engineer was never found and it was not until the second day in harbour that the body of the torpedo officer was discovered in one of the foc'sle mess decks.

At 2030 we buried our dead. By the light of the moon the bodies of twelve men killed in action lay under Union Jacks on the quarterdeck, and following the last rites, the remains of my good friend, Midshipman Ralph Norris, RN, eleven ratings and one unidentified body, were slipped into the sea. During the night, three more ratings died so another funeral service was held at 0830 Wednesday morning, before entering harbour.

When we arrived outside the harbour, Orion slipped and we were taken in tow by two tugs. At 1300 a bow-less but proud Liverpool passed the boom gate. At 1415 we were secured alongside pier 81. Three more men had died in the meantime, and all dead and wounded were removed as soon as the ship was secured. At 1500 a muster was held. The price of that one torpedo was thirty-two killed--of whom three were officers--and thirty wounded. (During an air raid on Alexandria that night, two of the injured died of shock.)

For the next week Alexandria had an air raid every night. Because of her weakened condition, Liverpool's HA (high-angle) armament was shut down and we slept through the raids.

Sunday night there were three raids. For the first I was sitting with some young Italian ladies in the Sporting Club; for the second I assisted in an improvised band at the "Monsiegneur" when the professional band left to take cover and, for the third, I was safe in HMS Liverpool. No damage was done to military objectives but two civilians were killed.

From the moment of berthing, efforts were made to clean up the ship and prepare her for docking. In two days time she was a normal Southampton-class cruiser from fifty bulkhead aft.

The moon being nearly full, there was an air raid each night of this week. Occasionally the raiders came twice in one night.

Tuesday evening Spicer and I went on a party with the Reverend Wragg. First we had drinks in the Metropole bar. Then we moved to a small Greek restaurant where we dined on roast lamb fresh from the spit, and drank some very excellent Greek red wine. Finally we went to a cinema showing "My Favorite Wife." A most enjoyable evening!

It was in the Metropole bar that the blow fell. A Sub-Lieutenant from Liverpool came and told us we would be leaving the ship the following morning at 1100. A signal had been received from the C-in-C stating we were to join HMS York with Midshipmen Waters and Hashim. It was hard to think of leaving the ship we had been through so much in, and much harder to think of leaving so many friends. The service is unavoidably cruel in that respect.

Wednesday morning, October 23 at 1045, the four of us, now minus Midshipman Norris, said farewell to Captain Read and at 1100, with large lumps in our throats, walked over the side into the waiting motorboat. Many officers and men waved to us as we rounded the damaged bows and passed out of sight.

A few days later Captain Read was given command of HMS Ramillies and Commander Welby was given command of HMS Liverpool.