HMS Kelly

2023-11-10

After my dad passed away and I collected all of his many bits together, I came across a cutting from the Daily Mirror newspaper, dated Friday, August 2, 1991, and written by Catherine O’Brien.

My dad had been in the Navy for his National Service so keeping this made sense, but more than that, I think he realised just how poignant and powerful the article and the letter reproduced in it were.

I’m not going to say anything other than just read it.


The Article

Dear Mr King, here’s how to say sorry…

Today we present a lesson in letter-writing for the benefit of Defence Secretary Tom King.

It was Mr King, you will recall, who, found himself unable last week to write personally to the relatives of the nine young Desert Rats killed by “friendly fire” in the Gulf.

He delegated the task to his private secretary, Miss Jane Binstead, instead. The result was perfunctory prose with about as much compassion as the quarterly gas bill.

Mr King was said not to have written the letters himself because he was “unavailable”. We think “incapable” is a more plausible explanation - despite Mr King’s privileged Rugby and Cambridge education. The same thought occurred to Daily Mirror reader John Hawarth, of West Parley, Dorset.

He sent us another letter - which we reproduce on the right - written by Lord Mountbatten 50 years ago.

The recipient was his mother-in-law, Elizabeth Grimble, who had just lost her only son, Ernest, on the destroyer HMS Kelly during the Second World War.

Ernest, a leading seaman, was just 21. Mrs Grimble’s grief was overwhelming.

But in the midst of the devastation, Mountbatten’s sensitive, sympathetic explanation provided comfort.

It continued to do so for 43 years, until Mrs Grimble died. She kept the letter in her bedside cabinet, and re-read it many times. Often it brought tears to her eyes, but she didn’t mind, because in private moments of sadness it was something to hold onto.

When she died, Mrs Grimble passed it on to Mr Howarth, who had served on HMS Kelly but survived, and his wife Doreen, Ernest ‘s sister.

It is still in pristine condition, the heavy weight blue paper barely frayed at the edges. Mr Howarth, 71, said yesterday: “She treasured that letter for the rest of her life.

“She never showed it to anyone outside the family, but it meant more to her than anything else because it was all she had left of her son.”

Mountbatten was captain of the Kelly. He wrote moving personal letters to all 131 next-of-kin of those lost.

The military top brass had not lost that ability. The families of the “friendly fire” victims all have heartfelt letters of condolence from commanding officers.

Even Mrs Thatcher knew how such matters had to be handled. When four British soldiers were killed by a missile from HMS Cardiff in the Falklands, she wrote personal letters to the relatives in her own hand.

Compare those to blundering attempts from Mr King’s department and you witness a true gulf in standards.

There can be no excuse for using cold, unfeeling words where tragic loss of life is concerned.

The families of the nine were promised a telegram from the Queen, a letter from the Prime Minister, then a letter from Mr King.

None have been received. And although she did ring up the relatives to apologise for getting the date of the tragedy wrong, Miss Binstead’s letter isn’t worth the paper it is written on.

Mr Howard suggests: “Perhaps Lord Mountbatten’s letter should be incorporated in MOD instructions as an example of how to inform the loved ones of those lost in battle and to help comfort them in their great sorrow.

“Certainly Mr King should have a copy on his desk.”

We couldn’t agree more.


The Letter

Dear Mrs Grimble,

You will by now have heard the sad news of the loss of HMS Kelly with so many of her gallant officers and men.

I have only recently reached England and hasten to offer you my heartfelt sympathy in your great personal loss. I had the honour to command the finest Ship’s Company I have ever served with and wish to assure you that I share your personal grief.

It may be some consolation to you to know that the Kelly was not lost in vain.

You will have heard the official announcement that 3 Cruisers, the Gloucester, Fiji and Calcutta and 6 Destroyers, the Kelly, Kashmir, Juno, Greyhound, Imperial and Hereward were lost in the Battle of Crete so that our ship rests in company with worthy sisters.

We had been sent out from England especially to help in the struggle in the Mediterranean and the 5th Destroyer Flotilla were proud to be chosen to help defend our Army in Crete from invasion by sea.

On the night of the 22nd/23rd May we were guarding the North Western Coast of Crete when the last remaining attempt to bring troops and supplies over by sea was made.

Only two ships - both sailing ships - attempted to force our patrol and both were instantly sunk by the Kelly and Kashmir. General Freyberg then asked the destroyers to carry out a bombardment of the German positions and the Kelly and Kashmir entered Canea Bay to do so.

The General subsequently made a signal saying how much our bombardment had heartened the British troops and that thanks to our vigilance no enemy troops or supplies had been able to land. This is surely a fine epitaph for the Kelly and her sister ship the Kashmir.

It was nearly dawn before our job was done and we retired at full speed with the German Air Force hot on our trail. We evaded all the attacks made by single aircraft but finally succumbed to a mass attack by 24 dive bombers with very large bombs.

Another sister ship, the Kipling, whom I had detached earlier that morning, saw the bombing and came and very gallantly rescued the survivors in the face of fierce attacks.

We had the satisfaction of shooting down and damaging a number of the attacking aircraft and both ships went down with every gun firing to the last, and all were standing by their posts.

The spirit of the Kelly was magnificent to the end and every one of her Ships Company behaved in accordance with the highest traditions of the Royal Navy.

I felt that this knowledge might help to comfort you in your great sorrow. Yours truly,

Lord Mountbatten,

Captain. RN.