The Gothic Line

by Mark Zuehlke

  WHILE THE EDMONTONS teed up this attack, the Hastings and Prince Edward Regiment formed up behind the 48th Highlanders. Leading the regiment was ‘D’ Company, commanded by Major Alan Ross, with support from a troop of Churchills. Ross could see that the German fire against the Highlanders was coming primarily from buildings on a low shoulder of Convent Hill immediately ahead. He could see no enemy movement on the right flank, which boded well for the planned hook approach. Despite these favourable signs, Ross hesitated to order the advance.

  The ground his company was to cross was bare of vegetation, leaving his men badly exposed to German fire. A deep creek cut across the line of advance, which Ross doubted his supporting tanks could negotiate. Those gullies that might serve as covered lines of advance were being subjected to regular artillery and mortar fire in an obvious effort to cut up any units trying to use them. Ross thought it logical that the Germans on the hill facing the Highlanders would have the open ground also covered by antitank guns hidden in the dense foliage that matted the hill’s eastern slope. He knew any element of surprise would be thrown away the instant his company stepped out into the open.

  The company commander chewed the problem over with Cameron by radio. Forget flanking the hill, the lieutenant colonel decided. Instead, he ordered Ross to drive through to the Highlanders’ pinned-down ‘C’ Company, extricate it, and then, if possible, go right up the front of the small hill. Cameron promised him not only the support of the troop of Churchills, but the continuous covering shellfire from a troop of Sherman tanks that would stand to his rear.16

  Ross struck quickly with the infantry out front and the Churchills grinding along close behind. Whenever a German machine gun opened up, the infantry hit the ground, and the tanks knocked out the enemy position with 75-millimetre shells and bursts from their machine guns. If a German antitank gun engaged the tanks, the infantry, firing from the hip as they ran, swarmed it. In short order, ‘D’ Company swept past the weary Highlanders of ‘C’ Company straight through to the buildings, where they rooted out any Germans who had yet to retreat up the slope to Convent Hill. Within minutes, the action was over. The Hasty P’s lost one man killed and two wounded, compared to a good number of German dead and six prisoners. A few minutes later, a couple of the tanks rolled up with about twenty more prisoners marching out in front. ‘D’ Company also captured a 75-millimetre antitank gun, a 20-millimetre self-propelled gun, two trucks, a half-track carrier, and a broken-down motorcycle. With the light fast failing, the other companies formed around ‘D’ Company, while the tanks withdrew to a safer place to spend the night. The Hasty P’s settled down much pleased with having rescued the High-landers—with whom they enjoyed a friendly, but intense, rivalry.17

  All across the Canadian front the supporting tanks were withdrawing from the front lines because it was considered too risky to leave them in exposed forward positions at night. Among those leaving were the tanks with which Royal Canadian Regiment commander, Lieutenant Colonel Jim Ritchie and his intelligence officer, Lieutenant Gordon Potts, had been vainly searching for his four missing rifle companies. Having dismounted and watched the tanks clatter off into the gathering gloom, the two men walked towards the front lines. Each man had a grenade and Potts carried a Thompson submachine gun. Expecting to use the tank’s radio for communications, neither man had thought to bring a portable set with them. For the next three hours, the two officers stumbled around in the ever deepening darkness, climbing up and down cliffs, until finally giving up and groping their way back to their headquarters.18

  Meantime, the commanders of the RCR rifle companies had decided that with no orders coming from headquarters they had better do something on their own. Major Sandy Mitchell of ‘B’ Company took charge and established radio contact directly with Calder at Brigade HQ.19 He proposed infiltrating up the slope of Convent Hill. With no idea what had happened to Ritchie, Calder told Mitchell to proceed on his own initiative. The RCR went up the hill in an arrowhead formation with ‘A’ Company on the tip, ‘B’ Company right and ‘C’ Company left. They scooped up ten German prisoners found dozing in slit trenches and then, after slipping and sliding blindly up the steep last stretch, the three companies burst onto the summit only to find that the Germans had fled minutes before. The Canadians dug in for the night around the convent.20

  ON THE CANADIAN far left flank, the Loyal Edmonton Regiment crept through the dark towards Monte San Giovanni with ‘C’ Company in the lead and ‘B’ and ‘D’ companies close behind. Also in trail and travelling in a couple of Bren carriers was a detachment from the three-inch mortar platoon and the medium machine-gun platoon. Meeting no opposition on the approaches, the Eddies quickly secured the summit. When some men jumped off one of the carriers and swept through a pair of bypassed houses, they captured two Germans manning a wireless set. The house with the radio was determined to have been an artillery observation post and likely the one responsible for calling down much of the accurate fire that had plagued the Seaforths on Monte della Mattera.21

  ‘B’ and ‘D’ companies took over the lead and headed for Monte Marino. It was 2035 hours when the two forward companies rushed the summit. One company came onto the objective right in the heart of two companies of completely surprised Germans. A short firefight ensued before the German defenders were driven off. Eight Germans were awakened at bayonet point in a house that turned out to be a possible regimental headquarters.22 Another wireless set, engineering equipment, and some medical supplies were captured. The Edmontons also rounded up seven horses and nine carts. They suffered no casualties and reported Monte Marino secure at 0030 hours, August 27.23

  Although the advance had bogged down before Convent Hill, the Canadians had made excellent overall progress. They were now about seven miles north of the Metauro River. On their flanks, II Polish Corps and V British Corps had been similarly successful. Eighth Army had advanced so rapidly that it had managed to prevent the Germans from breaking contact. The task for August 27 was to maintain the chase.

  In the past, Eighth Army had often frittered away opportunities gained like this by pausing to regroup and thus allowing the Germans to fall back to their next defensive line. Major General Chris Vokes believed that next line was probably based on Monteciccardo—a hill town overlooking the “muddy trickle” of the Arzilla River.24 The nine-hundred-foot hump upon which the town stood was the high point of a rugged ridge that ran from the village of Monte Gaudio in V Corps’s sector near the Canadian left flank to Monteciccardo. From here, the ridge dropped off into a low three-hundred-foot-high saddle that contained the villages of Sant’ Angelo and Ginestreto. Beyond these villages, the ground rose sharply again to the summit of Monte Belilla, which lay in the Polish sector. These features constituted the last physical obstacle between the Allies and the Foglia River. North of this ridge, the land sloped gradually towards the Foglia save for a small secondary ridge that skirted the southern edge of the river’s flood plain.

  Intelligence reports supported Vokes’s theory. His spirits were further buoyed by the fact that these reports stated that the prisoners taken in the day’s fighting indicated that “unit strengths [were] much reduced, weapons scarce, but small-arms ammunition sufficient. Enemy morale bad and many deserters.” Vokes “ordered the leading brigade commanders to push ahead on their own initiative to the… Foglia without respite, and to avoid giving the enemy a breathing spell.”25

  THE GERMAN SITUATION was not as dire as Vokes thought, but it was precarious. The defending 71st Infantry Division had already been in an exhausted state before falling back to the Metauro River and was rated by Tenth Army headquarters as only “fit for defence within limits.” Overtaken by the Canadians in what was supposed to have been an orderly, uncontested withdrawal, the division’s regiments had crumbled, with many men surrendering without offering even token resistance, while others fled at the first sign of Allied troops. In the early morning hours of August 27, Tenth Army Chief of Staff Generalmajor Friedrich Wentze
ll telephoned Kesselring’s Chief of Staff, Generalleutnant Hans Röttiger, and described Generalleutnant Wilhelm Raapke’s 71st Division as “weary.”26 The LXXVI Panzer Corps did not, however, plan to relieve this division. Instead, Raapke was told he must continue fighting until September 15, by which time 1st Parachute Division would have completed absorbing two thousand reinforcements that had arrived only on August 26.

  Despite the fact that even after taking in these reinforcements the paratroop division would still be seventy-five per cent understrength, Wentzell knew it remained one of the crack German units. The reinforcements were young, but relatively well trained. By mixing them judiciously alongside seasoned veterans, the division would soon, he thought, be “in good condition and fully qualified for any operational task.”27 Already, despite the original intention to keep the division from renewed operations until September 15, the weakened state of the 71st Division had forced commitment of 1st Parachute Division’s 4th Regiment in front of the Poles. During the retirement from the Metauro River, this regiment had been caught in the open by artillery fire and suffered heavy casualties. It also remained hard-pressed, as the Poles continued their advance towards Pesaro.28

  This was the kind of frittering away of strength that Kesselring and Wentzell wanted to avoid, preferring to save the paratroops for the day when a firm defence must be mounted within the Gothic Line fortifications. In the streets of Ortona and Cassino, and at the Hitler Line, the paratroops had displayed an astonishing ability to inflict heavy casualties with thinly spread forces if they were able to fight from inside prepared positions. If the paratroops were again to work their magic at the Gothic Line, they must not be cut up piecemeal in the ever chaotic battlefield conditions inherent in a fighting withdrawal.

  For the 71st Infantry Division, the grim task was then to regroup on the northern side of the Arzilla River, dig in, and fight. Its job was simple. To hold the Allies south of the Foglia until the paratroops and other divisions were ready to defend the Gothic Line. Kesselring remained unworried. Despite all evidence to the contrary, he still clung to the belief that the Adriatic offensive was a diversion intended to panic him into reinforcing this sector to the detriment of the line north of Florence.

  Wentzell was less sure. He warned Kesselring that if the Eighth Army had shifted its main strength to this coast—and if the Canadians were here, this was entirely likely—that the German’s left wing could collapse. Kesselring took the issue up with his Army Group staff, who agreed that, if true, this would certainly be a worst-case scenario. Evaluating the situation from the Allied side, they concluded that an offensive on the Adriatic front, given the weakness of the German divisions in that sector, would be “the right one, all right.” Kesselring remained dubious, but he decided to err on the side of caution and issued orders recalling Tenth Army Commander Generaloberst Heinrich von Vietinghoff and General Richard Heidrich from their leaves. If a major battle was shaping up on the Adriatic front, he wanted his best commanders there to fight it.29

  [ 10 ]

  A Gallant Do

  THROUGHOUT HIS first day of commanding a brigade in combat, 1st Canadian Infantry Brigade’s Brigadier Allan Calder had constantly moved from one regimental headquarters to another, issuing orders on the spot to keep the momentum going. This had left his staff back at brigade headquarters “completely out of touch with both events and [his] intentions.”1 Deep valleys and intervening ridges had wreaked havoc on radio communications, so that Calder could seldom get through to his headquarters on his jeep’s No. 18 set. The radio problems further convinced Calder that to exercise command control over his regiments he needed to be up front with them. Yet Calder also knew he should be available to receive intelligence information and instructions from divisional and corps headquarters in order to ensure 1 CIB’s operations conformed to the overall offensive plan. Needing to be everywhere at once, Calder had raced back and forth from brigade headquarters to his three regiments at an exhausting pace.2

  Roving the battlefield, as Calder did, was anathema to 2nd Canadian Infantry Brigade’s commander, Graeme Gibson. He seldom strayed from a headquarters habitually sited well back from the front lines. If he needed to consult one of his lieutenant colonels, they were summoned to his headquarters. Although 2 CIB operated in even hillier country than 1 CIB, radio signals here had proven more reliable. So, even though his forward regiments were a good four miles from his headquarters at Serrungarina, Gibson seldom lost contact with them.3

  Not that August 26 closed with Gibson controlling a seamless operation. Following the Seaforth Highlanders of Canada’s failed sally against Convent Hill, a worrisome gap had opened between his brigade and that of 46th British Division’s 128th Brigade as his line had drifted farther to the east than planned. At 0100 hours, August 27, Gibson ordered Princess Patricia’s Canadian Light Infantry commander Lieutenant Colonel David Rosser to carry out a night move from its reserve position in Serrungarina to plug the gap. By dawn, the PPCLI was to have reached the small summit of Monte Altiero behind the Loyal Edmonton Regiment’s position on Monte Marino. From here, it would then drive around the Loyal Edmontons’ left flank to move through rugged hill country to the Arzilla River. The regiment would be supported by the tanks of ‘B’ Squadron of the 145th Regiment, Royal Armoured Corps.4

  By 0230 hours, Rosser had his more than four hundred men on the march, while he and his staff remained at PPCLI headquarters hammering out a plan of attack. They had three hours before Rosser must get his headquarters moving by jeep and truck to rendezvous with the rifle companies at the base of Monte Altiero. A briefing of company commanders was scheduled for 0630 hours, with the attack starting an hour later.5

  The PPCLI were not the only Canadians going without sleep this night. At 0330 hours, Loyal Edmonton Lieutenant Colonel Budge Bell-Irving began briefing the acting commanders of ‘B’ and ‘D’ companies. The normal company commanders had been rotated to headquarters as Left Out of Battle. This was a standard army practice that required holding back a small group of officers and men from every company. If the company were decimated, they would form a nucleus around which it could be rebuilt by reinforcements. By intermittently designating company commanders as LOB, opportunity was also provided for second-in-commands, in this case, captains Gordon Armstrong and Alon Johnson, to gain valuable command experience.6

  It was over snaking roads such as this that I Canadian Armoured Corps made its secret move from the central Apennines to the Adriatic coast. NAC PA-204147.

  A dispatch rider sews his regimental shoulder flaps back onto his uniform at the end of one of several attempts to deceive the Germans as to the Canadians’ whereabouts. NAC PA-185005.

  Royal 22e Regiment troops engaged in a training scheme prior to the advance to the Gothic Line. J. Ernest DeGuire, NAC PA-190299.

  The 1st Canadian Light Anti-Aircraft Regiment (the so-called “No Name Regiment”) antitank platoon pose with their six-pound antitank guns. NAC PA-135903.

  Major General Chris Vokes (left) and Lieutenant General Tommy Burns in discussion just prior to the attack on the Gothic Line. NAC PA-185006.

  Rimini had the sad distinction of being Italy’s most heavily bombed community. NAC PA-173439.

  Artillery crew readying for the August 25–26 barrage to open the drive to the Gothic Line. NAC PA-185004.

  Canadian 25-pounders fire on targets at the Metauro River on the night of August 25–26. NAC PA-129762.

  An artillery captain, his plotter, and signalman provide targets and ranges to the guns just before the barrage begins. NAC PA-185003.

  Tanks of the Governor General’s Horse Guards are cheered as they advance towards the Metauro River. NAC PA-168022.

  Private L.V. Hughes, 48th Highlanders of Canada, snipes at German positions near the Foglia River. NAC PA-116842.

  German prisoners are marched to the rear just after the fall of Mombaroccio. NAC PA-185007.

  A file of 48th Highlanders of Canada marches towards the Foglia Riv
er on August 29. NAC PA-177533.

  A B.C. Dragoons Sherman tank with its turret blown off near Point 204. NAC PA-176300.

  German tank knocked out near Tomba di Pesaro. NAC PA-144728.

  Canadians look out from the castle ramparts of Gradara at the view German artillery spotters had enjoyed during the battle for the surrounding terrain before the breakthrough to Cattolica. NAC PA-173612.

  The relentlessly hot sun that Canadians experienced through most of the Gothic Line Battle was scarcely cut by the camouflage netting used to conceal artillery positions. NAC PA-177532.

  Canadian soldiers on the march during the breakout from the Gothic Line. NAC PA-168941.

  Churchill tank on the move towards Cattolica. NAC PA-184997.

  Lance Corporal J.A. Weston of Fairfield, New Brunswick, mans his Bren gun. NAC PA-184999.

  Self-propelled gun advances up a narrow track. Note the dust cover draped over the main gun. NAC PA-184998.

  Privates P. Saulnier and L.L. Little take cover in a shell crater they hastily transformed into a weapons pit near the Foglia River. NAC PA-185000.

  Bell-Irving’s plan appeared straightforward. With Armstrong’s ‘B’ Company on the left and Johnson’s ‘D’ on the right, they “were to head right out a mile or two miles into enemy territory.” Bell-Irving ended his briefing with a sardonic smile. “Well, good-bye chaps,” he said. “It’s going to be a gallant do. I do hope to see you again.”7

  Before this attack started, however, Armstrong was to send a platoon out “for the purpose of killing the enemy and, if possible, holding the ground” to the front of the company’s start line.8 Setting off at 0530 hours, the platoon became disoriented in the dark and confusing terrain and ended up wandering lost until it stumbled upon a small German outpost. Having killed two Germans in the process of routing the enemy, the platoon commander radioed Armstrong for further instructions. Deciding this action fulfilled the “killing the enemy” part of his orders, Armstrong told him to bring the platoon home.