by Mark Zuehlke
Three of them were wounded during shelling on August 24. The war diarist wrote, “It is a difficult job for gunners to sit for a period and receive the shelling we are catching in this area and yet not fire back.” But, he added, “It is our silence period before all hell breaks loose on the Hun.”21 That a hellishly heavy artillery fire program was certain was evidenced that night when trucks unloaded three hundred rounds per gun. The shell delivery was, of course, carried out under enemy fire and one Royal Canadian Army Service Corps driver was killed and two wounded. Several vehicles turned over trying to hurry down the winding track and a few others were destroyed by direct artillery or mortar hits.
On the morning of August 25, the regiment’s new commander Lieutenant Colonel G.A. Rankin arrived. “We can’t say the CO is taking the regiment over at its peak,” the war diarist confided, “but we do know he will get full support and cooperation of all ranks.” Throughout the gun positions, the regiment girded itself for action. Soon the gunners would be released from their enforced silence. That night, at 2359 hours, the attack was to go in and at 0013 hours of August 26, 17th Field Regiment would open fire with the rest of I Canadian Corps’s gunners. “The spirits and anticipation of all ranks was unbounded,” noted the war diarist, “as we all said to ourselves, ‘At last we get our own back.’”22
GIVEN THE SHORT TIME available to plan his attack, Major General Vokes believed the division was as well prepared as possible. Not until August 16 had Vokes been able to provide his general staff and brigadiers with details of their objectives, so they could begin planning for a contested river crossing and advance over hilly terrain.23
Fortuitously, 2nd Canadian Infantry Brigade’s commander, Brigadier Graeme Gibson, and Brigade Major A.F. Macdonald had both visited Rimini before the war and retained some memory of the nature of the ground. Drawing from personal memory, topographical maps, and aerial photographs, the two officers constructed a sand model. To maintain security they gave the indicated towns false names, but the ground detail was rendered as accurately as possible.24 For two days, the brigade’s regimental commanders and the commanders of all supporting units worked out the details of a theoretical attack based on the sand model. Only the day after the study group broke up did Gibson inform the officers that “the ground studied during the past two days… was a model of the actual ground which [2 CIB] would shortly… attack.”25
Vokes planned a two-brigade-strong attack delivered across a four-mile-wide front. Each brigade would commit two regiments and hold its third in close reserve. II Polish Corps’s 5th Kresowa Infantry Division was on the Canadian right flank and V British Corps’s 46th British Infantry Division on the left. Left of this division would be the 4th Indian Division, while the Kresowa Division would have the 3rd Carpathian Infantry Division to its right. These five divisions were to simultaneously strike the Metauro River.
Because it was a night attack, the infantry would have to fight until dawn without tank support. Once it was light, six tank regiments of the 7th British Armoured Brigade and the 25th British Tank Brigade would support the British infantry divisions, while three regiments of the 21st British Tank Brigade would support the Canadians. The 2nd Polish Armoured Brigade was inherent to the Polish division.26
Having lost most of his air power to the invasion of southern France, Alexander could not offer Leese as many aircraft as either general would have wished. Still, the British Desert Air Force promised that one hundred medium bombers would hit the Gothic Line with fragmentation bombs delivered in a series of staggered raids. Weather permitting, these bombers would return the following day for a repeat performance while another five hundred medium bombers pounded Pesaro’s outskirts. Night raids by six squadrons of Wellington bombers against the Gothic Line would follow. Fighter-bombers would also be available each day, circling overhead in cab ranks for fast deployment.27
The cab rank system had proven itself during the Liri Valley Battle. Normally this entailed a group of fast planes, usually consisting of three to six Kittyhawk fighter-bombers forming up overhead. These planes were on call to hit targets assigned by the air staff captain stationed at each divisional headquarters. Depending on the target, a single plane might be called out of the rank or the entire CAB rank might be unleashed.28
Eighth Army would depend on the weight of its artillery, more than air power, to destroy enemy defensive works. The three attacking corps had at their disposal 1,052 guns. Just under half were assigned to V Corps, with the majority of the others dedicated to the Canadians. This included 1 CID’s inherent artillery regiments, the guns of 1st Army Group Royal Canadian Artillery, the artillery regiments of the 4th British Infantry Division, 5th Canadian Armoured Division, and several batteries from II Polish Corps. In all, this amounted to ten field regiments—of which two were self-propelled—four medium regiments, one heavy regiment, and a heavy anti-aircraft battery.29
At the Liri Valley, Brigadier Bill Ziegler, 1 CID’s chief divisional gunnery officer, had decided that the standard Eighth Army tactic of supporting infantry advances with creeping barrages had failed. These barrages entailed the infantry following a general line of shelling that advanced one hundred yards every two to five minutes according to a preset schedule intended to match the rate of the infantry’s forward movement. Ziegler had found such barrages incapable of eliminating well-dug-in German defensive works, such as the four attacking Canadian regiments now faced. He felt that firing heavy concentrations against specific preset targets or target areas was more effective. Each concentration would be fired in “belts of 400 to 500 yards in depth and timed to agree with the proposed rate of advance of the infantry (100 yards in six minutes). . . . The concentrations would in effect provide curtains of fire in direct support of the infantry, moving up and along each of the four ridges in advance of the assaulting troops until the outer perimeter of the prepared bridgehead was reached at approximately 0200 hours, an hour before the infantry were expected to arrive on their objectives. During the succeeding hour the belt of fire on pre-arranged targets would assist the infantry in recognizing the limit of penetration for Phase 1.”30
That penetration was to be three thousand yards. Ziegler’s plan would utilize a total of 280 guns. The 25-pounders, medium guns, and 4.2-inch mortars would each have three hundred rounds per gun or tube. The heavy anti-aircraft guns would have five hundred rounds apiece.31
ON AUGUST 24, the 1st Canadian Infantry Brigade and 2nd Canadian Infantry Brigade brigadiers issued their orders for phase one of the attack—the river crossing and bridgehead establishment. This was 1 CIB’s Brigadier Allan Calder and his headquarters staff’s first battle together. Although confident, Calder fretted nonetheless that some overlooked detail might jeopardize his attacking regiments.32
Divisional intelligence staff had advised Calder that “enemy opposition to crossing… the Metauro and the advance to Via Flaminia would probably be light and confined to small arms fire, with possible mortaring and shelling of likely crossing places. It was believed that opposition would be stiffer about the towns and on high features, which lay between the Metauro and the Foglia. It was expected the ‘silent’ crossing would achieve at least a measure of surprise.”33
The two brigades would attack with 1 CIB on the right and 2 CIB on the left. Calder’s left-hand regiment would be advancing across rough ground where several sheer escarpments would have to be circled around. Royal Canadian Regiment drew this duty. On 1 CIB’s right-hand flank, where the 48th Highlanders of Canada would advance, the terrain sloped down into a somewhat rolling coastal plain that offered better going, particularly for tanks. As usual in Italy, small creeks and irrigation ditches cut the entire front from west to east to form natural tank obstacles. The 48th Highlanders would start crossing the river at 2310 hours, with the RCR following five minutes later. Once the leading companies of both regiments crossed the river, engineering parties would start constructing crossings. The Hastings and Prince Edward Regiment would provide security fo
r the engineers and then go forward when the 48th Highlanders and RCR finished securing their objectives. Calder warned Hasty P’s commander Lieutenant Colonel Don Cameron that, because the two leading regiments were attacking at night, some German pockets of resistance would likely be missed and require mopping up during the follow-up advance.34
The more Calder thought about the plan, the more convinced he was that the need for mopping up possible German pockets would significantly delay the Hasty P’s. Consequently, he cancelled the original plan that would have seen them jump through the two leading regiments once these had consolidated on the other side of the Via Flaminia and drive out to the three-thousand-yard point that was to mark the outward boundary of the initial bridgehead. Instead, Calder ordered the RCR and 48th Highlanders to go the entire distance with the Hasty P’s following along as best they could.35
Over at 2 CIB headquarters, Brigadier Graeme Gibson planned to send the Princess Patricia’s Canadian Light Infantry forward on his right flank with the Loyal Edmonton Regiment on the left. Unlike Calder, Gibson saw no reason for a change in plan in order to mop up bypassed Germans. The PPCLI would cross the river at 2235 hours and the Loyal Eddies at 2305 hours. The Edmonton regiment would seize two high points beyond Via Flaminia that dominated the left flank of the brigade’s forward lines—Point 233 and Point 241—while the PPCLI would gain control of the hamlet of Serrungarina. When these objectives were secure, the Seaforth Highlanders of Canada would pass through to secure the bridgehead boundary.36
That the two brigades would succeed in crossing the river and gaining the initial objectives was considered a given. The German 71st Infantry Division facing them was known to be small in number and badly organized. Resistance would more likely stiffen as the Canadians moved towards the bridgehead’s outward boundary and the Germans brought up reinforcements. For this reason, it was vital that the supporting tanks crossed the Metauro by dawn at the latest in order to catch up to the infantry before the German reinforcements arrived. This meant the Royal Canadian Engineers had little more than four hours to build tank crossings. Although largely dry in summer, the Metauro’s banks were steep and its wide riverbed soft enough to mire tanks trying to cross unaided by a properly constructed diversion. In 1 CIB’s sector, three such fords were planned. The sappers also had to clear the minefields on both riverbanks and those blocking several roads and rough tracks that approached the Metauro from the south.
Mine clearing had started on August 20. It was slow, dangerous work compounded by German mine-laying ingenuity. In the past, German engineers had generally used heavy explosives to blow large craters in roadbeds. This time, they had gone a step farther by lessening the size of explosive charges and stringing them out in a line so that instead of one crater, a series of smaller, interlocked craters was created. These took longer to fill. To add a dash of danger to the mix, the Germans had also buried ‘S’ mines, Schümines, and Italian box mines in the roadbed near where the explosives had gouged out crater strings. The explosions that opened the craters also rained thick coatings of debris over the emplaced mines, leaving them too deeply buried to be seen by the Canadian sappers, discovered by their mine detectors, or found by the methodical probing of ground with knife blades. All the sappers could do was hope the cratered roadbed was free of mines and set to work filling the holes in with bulldozers. But, as the bulldozers scraped one layer of debris after another away from the covered mines, the triggering devices were eventually depressed and the bulldozer disabled or destroyed. The only recourse for the sappers was to halt the clearing process after each pass by a bulldozer and sweep the ground for mines, resulting in long delays. Despite these problems, by nightfall on August 25, the roads were declared ready for traffic and the four regiments leading the attack moved quietly through the darkness to their jumping-off points.37
Earlier, the troops had listened to their officers read messages from Leese and Burns. “You have won great victories,” Leese’s announced. “Now we begin the last lap. Swiftly and secretly, once again, we have moved right across Italy an Army of immense strength and striking power—to break the Gothic Line.
“Victory in the coming battles means the beginning of the end for the German Armies in Italy.
“Let every man do his utmost, and again success will be ours.”38
Burns bluntly set out the task. “Let every one of us go into this battle with the determination to press forward until the enemy is destroyed; to strike and pursue until he can fight no longer. Then, and only then, shall we have won what we, as Canadians, have been fighting for—security, peace and honour for our country.”39
This immediately prompted some sardonic wag to compose a new verse for singing to the ever popular melody of “Lili Marlene.”
We will debouch into the Valley of the Po
We will deal the Hun a mighty, mighty blow
We will debouch into the Po
This we know, for Corps says so
Onward to Bologna, onward to the Po.40
[ 8 ]
Ah, Cannon!
THE DAY’S TERRIFIC heat had barely lessened by nightfall, when a gentle breeze began to blow in off the Adriatic. A waning moon quickly set behind the mountains, leaving the sky awash with glittering stars. On the Canadian right flank, the 48th Highlanders of Canada marched along a gravel road towards the Metauro River. Earlier that day, Lieutenant Colonel Don Mackenzie had reconnoitered this line of approach and realized the gravel crunching under his men’s boots would betray their presence. Accordingly, he ordered them to slip their boots inside oversized socks in a crude attempt to muffle the noise their footsteps must make. With insufficient standard-issue socks to go around, some soldiers, with whispered apologies to moms and aunts, resorted to using woollen stockings knitted by relatives. Although most had been dubious, the Highlanders discovered the socks did effectively mask the sound of their boots.1
While the Highlanders employed stealth, other units cast aside all discretion. Lieutenant A.D. Egan’s Royal Canadian Regiment marched towards battle garishly wrapped in colourful silk scarves purloined from the same Florence factory Lieutenant Jimmy Quayle’s scouts had plundered.2 The RCR’s ‘B’ and ‘C’ companies were leading. At 2315 hours, these two companies began descending a gentle slope towards the river.
To their left, the Princess Patricia’s Canadian Light Infantry’s ‘A’ Company, under Major E.W. Cutbill, and Major Colin McDougall’s ‘B’ Company led, while ‘A’ and ‘D’ companies of the Loyal Edmonton Regiment formed on their left flank. A heavy silence hung in the air. No trace of sound or sign of movement could be detected on the German side of the river.
The PPCLI were to cross at an oxbow that pushed to within mere yards of the Via Flaminia—the first objective of the Canadian attack. Elsewhere river and road were separated by several hundred yards, but here the Germans could fire directly into the riverbed with any machine guns set up on the higher ground north of the road. To improve the PPCLI’s odds of achieving complete surprise, this regiment was given a head start. Cutbill and McDougall’s men reached the edge of the Metauro’s south bank at 2230 hours, paused just five minutes to hastily reorganize, then started creeping across the gravel riverbed. Although the Loyal Eddies reached the river simultaneously with the PPCLI, its two leading companies remained hidden in the tree line bordering the southern bank. They were to wait until 2305 hours before crossing, by which time the PPCLI were expected to have cleared the Germans from in front of, and immediately behind, their sector of the Via Flaminia.
Neither gunshot nor cry of alarm greeted the PPCLI during the river crossing. Climbing out of the riverbed, the men advanced in line across a field lying between the river and the highway. They expected any moment to hear a rifle crack or the dreaded sheet-tearing sound of an MG42 followed by the thump of a mortar firing and the piercing white glare of an illumination flare exploding overhead, but there was only silence. At the roadside, the leading platoons hesitated in disbelief at their good fortu
ne for a moment before bounding across by sections to enter a maze of gunpits that all proved empty.3Thirty minutes later, the Edmontons, also meeting no resistance, formed up beside them.
The 48th Highlanders and RCR enjoyed similar success—the only resistance encountered being some deep pools in the riverbed that sucked the socks off their boots. As they slipped into a cluster of olive groves and headed towards the highway, one soldier tripped and dropped his Lee Enfield. A sergeant hissed at him to mind his footing. They soon realized the man’s clumsiness didn’t matter. There were no Germans to hear.4
Five minutes after the first Highlanders were already coming up the other side, RCR Lieutenant Jimmy Quayle’s scout platoon crossed. The previous night, Quayle and two of his men had probed the river’s other side and detected no signs of German occupation. But the scout officer had dismissed this discovery as resulting simply from their not having stepped into the wrong spot at the wrong time. Night patrols could pass within a few feet of hundreds of Germans hunkered in fighting holes without either side being aware of the others’ presence. So he could scarcely believe the Germans were well and truly gone.5Spreading out north of the Via Flaminia, the four Canadian regiments waited for 2359 hours and the onslaught of the guns.