蜜芽传媒

The Normandy Battle

My aim here is to record the moments in this battle which, for one reason or another, remain vivid in my memory, rather than to give a detailed account of events. The story of the 43rd Reconnaissance Regiment can be read in the book 鈥� Record of a Reconnaissance Regiment鈥�(White Swan Press,Bristol 1946). This covers Normandy and the ensuing campaign that took us over the Seine through Belgium, Holland and North West Germany.

At Pouligny I was posted to 鈥楤鈥� squadron and commanded 鈥�6鈥� Troop until we reached Holland. Thereafter I was second in command of the squadron. For three weeks in March 1945, in the absence of my squadron leader, I commanded the squadron in its advance beyond the Reichswald towards the west bank Of The Rhine. There are a number of references to 鈥�6鈥� Troop and 鈥楤鈥� Squadron in the regimental history I have referred to.

By way of a background it must be said that the 2nd Army to which our Division (43rd Wessex) belonged, was undoubtedly the best army Britain had ever put into the field. It was superbly organised with marvellous fire support from its artillery and from the tactical aircraft of the RAF. We had pretty well complete air supremacy and only occasionally saw the Luftwaffe. This of course made life less unpleasant than it might have been. Furthermore, we all felt we were on the last lap of a long war, and that we were winning.

Winning or not, a soldier鈥檚 first experience of battle is bound to be a memorable occasion for him and mine was no exception. On 2nd August the Division carried out a night approach march round the town of Caumont in order to advance on Mount Pincon, which at the time was the hinge on which the German defences rested. I was told that my troop was to lead the Regiment鈥檚 advance and late on 3rd August took up position in the village of Jurques to await the order to move. There was a good deal of noise and smoke in Jurques, much of it coming from a Sherman tank that was burning and exploding on the outskirts of the village. The ground we stood on was high and overlooked a road that ran down into a valley and then rose up to a wooded ridge opposite. 鈥�6鈥� Troop was to advance down this road, then move up the other side of the valley and beyond.

I was exhilarated at the prospect and rather naively confided in a couple of infantrymen, who were sitting nearby, that this was my first day in action. They were, to put it mildly, apathetic, and it turned out that the road ahead was still strongly held by enemy infantry with 80mm guns and the company to which they belonged had suffered heavy casualties earlier that day. There was no way through for armoured cars, and dusk was beginning to fall when our plan was abandoned for the day, so it was not exactly a dashing start.

First contact

It was late the next day we finally launched ourselves down the hill and up the other side going through the Bois de Buron, turning left towards Le Clos and on to La Tautainerie. It appeared that the Germans had pulled back and we were able to advance three or four miles before regaining contact. When this came it was we who caught the Germans unawares, at a place called Duval, and we were able to inflict several casualties and take prisoners. It was a good start and the kind of luck which 鈥�6鈥� Troop was to enjoy for the rest of the Normandy battle.

However, we were not congratulating ourselves and at such a time it was unlikely that we would. We were far from battle hardened and as yet unaccustomed to the eerie contrast between the glorious Normandy countryside and the strong presence of death which pervaded the scene and accompanied our every action. The waiting moments, as always, were the worst and once or twice over the coming days I found myself hating it all.

Early losses and lessons

鈥楤鈥� Squadron as a whole suffered early losses. By the end of the third day we had lost three of our six subalterns (two killed, one died of wounds). On making contact with the enemy, or if enemy presence was suspected, the troop leaders had been trained to dismount and carry out reconnaissance on foot. On my first day in action my NCOs and I carried out several such foot patrols on the approaches to Duval and did so without getting shot. The other three troop leaders were all killed whilst probing forward on foot in a like manner. Thereafter we learned the value of the armour plate on our vehicles and, as far as possible, did our probing mounted.

Whether mounted or on foot one had an overwhelming feeling of loneliness in the thickly wooded bocage. The stench of death assailed our nostrils and the absence of living humans was uncanny. French farmers were rarely seen and we knew that if we met Germans it would probably be sudden and without warning.

It was sometimes possible to 鈥榬ead the battle鈥� and therefore sense the enemy whereabouts because German weapons made quite different noises from British weapons. In particular the Spandau machine gun did not 鈥榬at-a-tat鈥� like the Bren but spewed out bullets in a continuous sound. German mortars were very efficient and their bombs were sometimes fitted with vanes which caused them to howl on descent 鈥� very unnerving. The most lethal weapon for our cars was the 鈥榩anzerfaust鈥� which was fired from the shoulder and penetrated our armour as if it were cardboard. We had to be on the constant look out for anti-tank mines, as we discovered later when probing towards a crossing of the river Noireau at Point Erenbourg near Conde. Unknowingly I passed over a network of mines on the road without touching one whilst the car following behind was blown up. The mines had been disguised by covering them with loose chippings on the metalled road surface.

Typhoon Attack

Despite all these hazards, 鈥�6鈥� Troop continued to enjoy luck. For example, I have mentioned the excellence of RAF support.
Unfortunately the front line is not always easy to identify from a fast moving Typhoon aircraft, even though we made much use of the lurid fluorescent panels and yellow smoke to help the pilots (and ourselves). On our first day in action, by way of welcome, a group of Typhoons decided that 鈥�6鈥� Troop was on the wrong side and singled us out for special attention. Diving down they fired salvoes of rockets at us. The noise was indescribable and we flattened ourselves in our cars or in the nearest ditches. It was a miracle the troop suffered no serious damage or injury, but we were shaken for a while and I never again trusted any nearby aircraft, German or otherwise. I was somehow cheered by the fact that what we had experienced was for the Germans routine rather than exceptional.

In praise of the infantry

We had unstinted admiration for the infantry of the 43rd (Wessex) Division, who were drawn from the county regiments of the West Country. The history of the Normandy battle shows that they never lost their zest for the fight and came through this period with a reputation second to none. Time and again they passed through us to attack ground and back would come stretcher-bearers carrying wounded. Once as I stood by the road two walking wounded came past me, the first, a private soldier, said 鈥渋t鈥檚 hell up there鈥� only to be instantly rebuked by the other soldier who clearly did not want us to think his lot could not take it. In that battle the CO of the Wiltshires, Col. Pearson, was killed a few minutes after I had been speaking to him on the approaches to Mount Pincon.

Praying in aid

During these stressful times I derived comfort from the impromptu religious services held by the Padre, The Rev. Gethyn-Jones, and undoubtedly became one of those the Americans called 鈥楽lit Trench Christians鈥�. All the troops cared about was to finish the war as soon as possible so they could get home. Physically we were all extremely fit and able to manage without much sleep and with fairly indifferent food. Now and again a pig would appear on the menu thanks to Cpl. Hawes in 鈥�6鈥� Troop who was a pork butcher by trade.

Onto the Seine

With the fall of Mount Pincon the German defences began to crumble and within days the Normandy battle was over.
鈥�6鈥� Troop had suffered only a few casualties which I like to think was due to my tactics but was more probably due to the fact that, because the sinking of our troopship had delayed our readiness, we entered the battle at the moment when the Germans were beginning to crack. Nevertheless, even though the fates had been relatively kind to us, it had been a testing and exhausting month of August.

At this point the Regiment was launched for the first time on its classic role of medium range reconnaissance. 鈥楤鈥� Squadron鈥檚 objective was Vernon, on the Seine about 100 miles away. It was an exhilarating race across France and in about 48 hours 6 Troop was in Vernon. There I dismounted in order to move through gardens that overlooked the river from the west bank. Enemy snipers were operating from the far side and there was a lot of shelling. The bridges were blown so that night the 43rd Division infantry carried out an amphibious assault and drove the enemy back so that the sappers could build a bridge. Early the next day, the 27th August, my armoured car was the first British fighting vehicle to cross The Seine.

There was lots of heavy fighting in the thick woods on the East Bank, in which the regiment was involved, before we could revert to our normal role. When the way was clear 鈥�6鈥� Troop was sent north to Les Andelys. En route a Frenchman volunteered to assist me with his local knowledge and sat on the back of my armoured car. He spoke excellent English and was an amusing companion during a relatively uneventful day. We reached Les Andelys in mid afternoon and found it clear of Germans which I duly reported on my wireless. However, the artillery of a neighbouring British Corps decided to make the place a target, perhaps mistaking us for Germans. Soon our position was resounding to the crash of exploding 25 pounder shells. We leapt into our cars and fled ignominiously up the hill back to the squadron base. Our job was done and there was nothing to be gained by being killed by British guns. My Frenchman鈥檚 name was Roger Galand and the next day my brother Douglas and I called on him and his wife Janine in Portmort near Vernon. They entertained us in great style several times in the few days before we had to go eastwards. We kept in touch for a while after the war.

Paris 鈥� my first visit

Whilst we were halted at Vernon I, with Frank Henn (a brother officer) took a jeep to Paris. The city had been taken two days earlier and was out of bounds to British troops, so theoretically Frank and I were the first British officers into the liberated French capital. I suspect others have equal claim. On arrival we were much welcomed by the Parisians, although we were a bit miffed to be taken at first for Americans. We had a thoroughly entertaining night, during which a woman who was particularly kind to me told me about the last Englishman she had entertained, prior to the fall of France, a name well known to me since he was a director of the Bank of England! At dawn the next day Frank and I returned northwards to Vernon enjoying a beautiful sunrise over the Seine and well content with our first ever visit to Paris.

Taking up the Torch

The next move was to take us through North鈥擡ast France via Brussels to the frontiers of Holland. On our route lay the battlefields of the First World War and the cemeteries of our dead of that war. At one such cemetery I halted the troop and climbed down to walk among the gravestones. I spent several minutes doing this and found myself deeply moved by the experience. I even made a small quiet speech saying 鈥淒on鈥檛 worry 鈥� we have taken up the torch and we will finish the job properly for you.鈥�

I then returned to my armoured car to find that I was the only one apparently stirred by the occasion. The troops remained in their vehicles stolidly munching biscuits and if they wondered what their officer was up to they showed no sign. I put this down to British phlegm and presumed my Irish streak, or my strong sense of history, had prompted my emotions.

Escort to Nijmegen

At the frontiers of Holland we found ourselves poised for the great advance which was intended to take us across the Rhine at Arnhem. 鈥�6鈥� Troop鈥檚 orders were to seize and hold the bridge over the River Lissel at Zutphen, some way beyond Arnhem. I remember that Sir Philip Sydney had met his end at Zutphen and hoped we would have better luck. But first I was detailed to escort the divisional commander, General Ivor Thomas, through Eindhoven and up to the leading Guards Armoured Division elements which were then heading for Nijmegen. This was quite an adventure since the line of advance took us through the landing grounds of two American Airborne Divisions and along a road which was alternatively held by Germans and Americans. Eindhoven, a large town, was uncannily deserted and presumably the Dutch there were still keeping their heads down.

Nijmegen and beyond

We reached Nijmegen after a few diversions and that evening I stood by the roadside watching the Irish Guards moving up to attack the bridge over the Waal which they, with the Americans, subsequently took in some style. As they passed with shouts of 鈥淟et the Micks get at them!鈥� I even found it possible to feel a twinge of sympathy for any German troops that lay in their path. That evening I attended the Divisional order group at which the general gave his order for the advance on Arnhem. This session was held in a dimly lit school somewhere in the middle of Nijmegen and the scene never left my mind.

As history records, 43rd Division never reached the bridge at Arnhem. We in the Recce Regiment were deployed to protect the West flank of the Division, in an area known to us as 鈥淭he Island鈥�.
This flank was very fluid and it was terrible to receive a huge welcome from the Dutch villagers only to pull out a few hours later in order to shorten the line.

One village that we held for a few days was Dodewaard where 鈥�6鈥� Troop had several fairly successful encounters with German troops. It was there that I also had the pleasure of directing the whole Divisional artillery onto a large gang of German troops who were busy digging a defence line about 400 yards away. I have never seen so many shovels flung away in such haste.

Although outwardly unscathed many of us were a bit jumpy by this time and on cold misty nights in Dutch orchards it was easy to mistake apple trees for cohorts of advancing Huns. My gunner suffered in particular with his nerves and, on the morning we entered Dodewaard, he infected me. We were moving, of necessity, along an upraised dyke 鈥� a position that presents one鈥檚 armoured car as a perfect target for any enemy gunner within range (and we knew it). Suddenly Straw (for that was his name) called out pointing to his left 鈥淟ook, Sir, Germans!鈥� I looked and quite clearly saw lines of German soldiers below the dyke waving their helmets as if trying to attract our attention. I looked again and the picture dissolved into a field of high corn swaying in the wind, without a German in sight. All this is bright sunlight! I felt less foolish a short while later when I was able to engage some real German soldiers with the artillery described previously when a patrol emerged from the wood right in front of us. The Dutch had warned us they were coming, which was helpful.

A few days later the regiment was relieved by the 101st US Airborne Division and we withdrew through Nijmegen to take up a defensive position south of the river Waal, more or less opposite Dodewaard. The next day the Americans had to beat off a major attack from the Germans. These US soldiers were the cream of their Army and later distinguished themselves at Bastogne in the Ardennes. The Germans were perhaps unfortunate to find the 101st in position in place of the few scattered armoured cars which we would have presented!

By now we knew that there would be no speedy end to the war and we thought more in terms of a few days in Brussels, which duly came. I shall long remember the hot bath I had at the leave hotel-my first bath since Vernon several weeks earlier!. Back on the banks of the River Waal we continued to lead a relatively quiet but by no means uneventful life. Since arriving in Holland we had had many contacts with the Dutch and they could not have been more friendly. For my part I developed a great admiration for the Dutch people which I hold to this day.

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