by Mark Zuehlke
The 12th Royal Tank Regiment reached the southern ridge overlooking the Arzilla River at 0615 hours. Hearing heavy volumes of gunfire ahead, its commander, Lieutenant Colonel H.H. Van Straubenzee, proceeded on foot to Lieutenant Colonel Jim Ritchie’s Royal Canadian Regiment headquarters. Ritchie informed him that the 48th Highlanders were held up “just in front of the river” and directed Straubenzee to both Mackenzie’s headquarters and that of the Hastings and Prince Edward Regiment. The British officer met and discussed the situation with both regimental commanders. It was decided that the tank regiment’s ‘A’ and ‘C’ squadrons would provide fire support from the south side of the river until the situation stabilized sufficiently to allow ‘A’ Squadron to cross the river and provide the infantry with direct support.11
As the two tank squadrons began pounding various targets with their main guns, Canadian artillery and mortar units also fired on suspected German positions. The intensity of the shelling caused an immediate slackening of the German fire, prompting ‘A’ Squadron to begin its move forward. The moment the leading tanks came off the slope en route to the Arzilla River, however, antitank guns started blazing away from covered positions on the northern ridge. Two tanks were knocked out and the rest had to duck for cover in an olive grove or hastily withdraw behind the ridgeline.12
Lieutenant Colonel Don Cameron of the Hasty P’s called a heavy concentration of artillery down upon Point 268, hoping to assault the position with his infantry alone. Although the artillery fire was accurate, the leading companies were driven to ground before they could even kick off the attack. At 1210 hours, Brigadier Allan Calder ordered his regiments to sit tight and directed the commanders to send back representatives to 1st Canadian Infantry Brigade’s headquarters to receive instructions for a new attack.
Calder told the assembled officers that he wanted the Hasty P’s to swing towards the 48th Highlanders’ left flank to relieve pressure on the embattled regiment. The Highlanders would then proceed with a drive up to Point 146. Once that objective was secure, the Hasty P’s would wheel northwestward and strike out against Point 268 under the cover of darkness. At the same time, the RCR would attack Point 268 from the southwest and then pass through the Hasty P’s on the summit to continue northward. During the initial phase of the attack against Point 146, artillery would fire smokescreens to cover the supporting tanks, which would then cross the Arzilla River and advance to the Highlanders. The attack was to begin at 1745 hours.13
The 12th Royal Tank Regiment squadron assigned to the Highlanders counted eleven tanks, a mix of three Shermans and eight Churchills. According to the plan, they would back up ‘A’ Company as it pushed off from the village at the head of the regiment towards Point 146. Things started to go badly from the outset, however, when one Churchill was knocked out by antitank fire from the northern ridge while crossing the river and another Churchill and two Shermans became hopelessly mired in the water. As the remaining seven tanks entered the village, a German mortar round or a rifle grenade dropped directly into a Churchill’s open turret hatch and killed the entire crew. An antitank shell knocked off another Churchill’s track and the massive machine slewed into a ditch, nearly crushing two Highlanders who just managed to roll clear of its treads.
One of the surviving tanks was the squadron commander’s Sherman, which had to remain in the village so its radio could be used to coordinate the attack. That left only four to support the Highlanders. ‘A’ Company set off regardless at 1930 hours with the four Churchills in the vanguard. Lieutenant Harry Kilgour’s No. 9 Platoon was forward on the right, Lieutenant Frank Girdlestone’s platoon to the left, and Captain Bob Murdock’s platoon followed closely behind the two leading platoons, with Captain George Beal and his company headquarters unit behind that.
The Germans met the advancing force with heavy artillery that struck down the leading section in Kilgour’s platoon, killing or wounding every man. The fire also knocked out one of the Churchills. With his sights set on reaching the summit, Kilgour failed to notice that German fire had driven his men to ground just short of the crest. He rushed onto the hilltop alone and then, realizing his predicament, scuttled over to where Lieutenant Girdlestone was forming up on the left-hand side of the hill. Kilgour’s platoon linked up with this force a few minutes later.
Thinking Point 146 now secure and unable to contact Beal for instructions, the two platoon commanders decided to press on to their next objective—another small hill a short distance to the north that was identified as Point 162. As they closed on this position, a heavy concentration of artillery bracketed the hill. Beal, unaware his men were virtually on top of the objective, was softening it up for the attack. The two platoons took cover while Kilgour yelled into his radio for the artillery to break off. No sooner had he managed to get the shelling lifted than heavy, determined small-arms fire from the summit of Point 162 proved that this position was held in strength. The two platoons retreated towards Point 146 but, as they approached, came under fire from paratroopers who had infiltrated back onto the hill after the Highlanders had departed.
Although the Churchills hammered the handful of buildings on the summit of Point 146, Beal lacked sufficient strength to clear out these newly arrived German defenders. He ordered his company to dig in on the southern slope of the hill to await reinforcement.14
To the left of the Highlanders, the advance by the Hasty P’s was stalemated because the Germans on Point 146 could slice into their exposed flank should they try moving forward. They were also still wondering where their tanks were.15 Repeated attacks on Point 146 by the remaining Highlander companies and the tankers were repelled. The Germans set haystacks on fire and used the light from the resulting bonfires to aim their machine guns and antitank weapons. One Churchill was knocked out by a Faustpatrone, and when the crew bailed out the Germans killed them with a blast from a flame-thrower.16 At dawn on August 29, the two surviving Churchills withdrew for lack of ammunition and ‘A’ Company fell back on the village. Of the August 28 fighting, the regimental war diarist wrote: “This day in its entirety, will… go down as one of the most difficult and unpleasant that this battalion has had to experience.”17
AUGUST 28 HAD PROVEN equally unpleasant for the Loyal Edmonton Regiment, which was attempting to renew its attack on Monteciccardo. Even while the infantrymen waited for elements of ‘A’ and ‘C’ squadrons of the 145th Regiment, Royal Armoured Corps, fire from the German lines intensified. ‘B’ Company was so plagued by gunfire from a position three hundred yards off that a platoon was sent to clear it out. This it did at a cost of two Canadians wounded in exchange for one German prisoner and two others wounded. Clearing the outpost, however, failed to lessen the rate of German artillery and mortar fire harassing the company. A direct hit on ‘B’ Company’s headquarters killed two men and wounded a further eight.
At 0700 hours, the tanks ground up to the rear of ‘D’ Company’s position. Lieutenant Colonel Budge Bell-Irving called tank commander Captain R.F. Grieve and Captain Alon Johnson of ‘D’ Company together to discuss the attack. Given the open terrain between the Arzilla River and Monteciccardo, there were few options other than to charge straight at the village.18 Bell-Irving told Johnson to concentrate his company and enter Monteciccardo directly in front of the monastery tower, for it appeared this was the only spot where a street entering the village was wide enough to admit the Churchills.19
Before the attack went forward, Bell-Irving had the regiment’s antitank platoon blast the tower apart. As the antitank gunners were blowing great chunks of masonry out of the tower, four of ‘A’ Company’s missing men managed to use this distraction to escape from their hiding place in the town and dash to the Canadian lines. All were suffering from light wounds. They brought with them four German prisoners, of whom two were also wounded.20
At 1315 hours, Johnson’s company and the tanks headed for Monteciccardo. Johnson’s men were well spaced out, so the constant artillery, mortar, and machine-gun fire cause
d few casualties and failed to slow their advance. Liaison between the tankers and the infantry quickly became a problem, however, as the infantry officers were unable to attract the tankers’ attention and direct them to fire on specific targets.21 Still, by 1400 hours, ‘D’ Company reached the village outskirts. The lead platoon charged into the monastery garden and entered the structure itself, of which only the ground storey still stood. A wild melee broke out between the Canadians and ten Germans inside the building. When the bullets and fragments of grenades stopped, the Germans were all dead. The Canadians had suffered no casualties.22
As the other platoons came up to the edge of the garden, however, they were subjected to heavy fire from tunnels extending from underneath the monastery. These were large enough to hold two companies of German infantry and proved immune to artillery or aerial bombardment. Although ‘D’ Company remained unaware of the origin of this fire, it had unwittingly discovered where the Germans had been able to hide during the air raids that had savaged Monteciccardo on August 27.23
From the edge of the monastery grounds, Johnson watched Captain Grieve’s Churchill roll up close to the monastery and fire on suspected German strongpoints. Suddenly, several Germans stepped out from the corner of a nearby building. One shouldered a Faustpatrone and fired. When the explosive charge struck, the tank exploded into flame.24 Grieve and three of his crew bailed out, but the officer and two of the men had suffered wounds during the explosion. The men no sooner hit the ground than several Germans surrounded and quickly hustled them all into a cellar that was part of the tunnel network running under the monastery.25
The other tanks were still struggling to find a route up the final bit of slope leading to the edge of town and were further slowed by the heavy artillery fire buffeting their armoured hides. Figuring he faced a protracted fight for the monastery, Johnson slipped his web belt off in order to lighten his load and make it easier for him to dash quickly back and forth between platoons. As he straightened up, a bullet slammed into the front of his helmet, passed through the thin steel, and opened a gash down the centre of his skull. Johnson was knocked flat on his back by the impact, and when he sat back up blood gushed down all sides of his head.
His first concern was to regain control of his company, but a stretcher-bearer ran up and said, “Sir, you’re hurt bad.” The words startled Johnson far more than had the sight of his blood or the rapidly increasing pain of his wound. He suddenly felt dizzy, verging on fainting. Forcing himself to concentrate, Johnson turned over company command to Lieutenant H.F. “Fritz” Hansen and then walked back to the Regimental Aid Post. It would be two months before Johnson returned to duty.26
The fight around the monastery degenerated into complete confusion when several Churchills got up to within one hundred yards of the monastery wall and started hammering the building with high-explosive rounds. Inside, ‘D’ Company’s lead platoon watched the building shake and tremble under the explosive impact of each round, but its stout walls withstood the battering. When the tanks ceased fire fifteen minutes later, the platoon scrambled out of the building and rejoined the rest of the company on Monteciccardo’s outskirts. ‘D’ Company set up in a semi-circle facing the monastery. The other Edmonton companies were still well back, waiting for instructions.
Bell-Irving realized that only a much more coordinated and heavy concentration of artillery would shift the odds into his favour. He hammered out a plan that called for 25-pounders to fire on the village from 1915 to 1950 hours, whereupon two regiments of heavier medium artillery would take over for ten minutes. Under the cover of this fire, ‘B’ Company and a squadron of tanks would close on the monastery. At 2000 hours, the artillery would abruptly cease firing and ‘B’ Company would rush the building. Companies ‘C’ and ‘A’ would immediately pass by the monastery, enter the town, and clear it.
When the 25-pounders finished their scheduled fire plan at 1950 hours, the explosions inside Monteciccardo suddenly ceased. No fire came from the medium artillery. Bell-Irving radioed for an explanation of the delay. Finally, even as the clock ticked up to 2000 hours and the scheduled time for the infantry companies to begin their assault, he was told the guns had been required elsewhere. The Edmontons would have to attack without the promised support. They also had only two tanks instead of the promised squadron, for the others had unexpectedly withdrawn without telling anyone they were leaving. Bell-Irving went ahead with his plan.
‘B’ Company rushed the monastery and swept into it without meeting any resistance. The other companies passed by and within minutes had driven through to the other side of Monteciccardo. The Germans had fled. They had left Captain Grieve and his three crew-men behind in a cellar under the monastery. A patrol mopping up the town soon discovered the body of Captain Roxburgh lying in an alley. No trace of the other missing Edmontons was discovered and they were assumed captured. At thirty minutes after midnight, Monteciccardo was declared secure.27
The moment the Edmontons broke into Monteciccardo, the Seaforth Highlanders of Canada, who had been following their fellow 2 CIB regiment, passed by the village on the right and started marching towards the villages of Ginestreto and Sant’ Angelo to the east and north of Monteciccardo respectively. ‘D’ Company led the way, with ‘C’ immediately behind and ‘A’ following farther back. ‘B’ Company remained in reserve. Only slight opposition was met during the night’s advance and by dawn of August 29 Ginestreto was in the regiment’s hands. ‘A’ Company then moved on to Sant’ Angelo and pronounced it secure at 0830 hours.28
On the Canadian right flank, 1 CIB’s regiments had reorganized and resumed the attacks against Points 146 and 268 at 0330 hours. Where resistance had been strongly offered by the Germans scant hours before, the advancing Hasty P’s and 48th Highlanders now met little opposition. By 0430 hours, the Highlanders reported Point 146 secure and the Hasty P’s and RCR walked through the abandoned German fighting positions on Hill 268 to advance a mile along the road leading out of Ginestreto.29 The Hasty P’s had suffered forty-three casualties in the protracted fight for Point 268, of whom seven men were killed. For the Highlanders, the toll paid for taking Point 146 was eight dead and twenty-four wounded. The ease of the subsequent advance indicated that, having lost Monteciccardo and other strongholds west of where 1 CIB had been stymied, the Germans had decided to withdraw behind the Foglia River.30
As the Germans pulled out, the two leading brigades of 1st Canadian Infantry Division were directed to prepare to be relieved. Both the Hasty P’s and the RCR, however, pushed patrols through to the Foglia River. Calder was discussing turnover of his sector with Brigadier Paul Bernatchez of 3rd Canadian Infantry Brigade when the RCR reported by radio that a patrol had found the Foglia “fordable to infantry practically anywhere” and probably passable in many spots to tanks.31 While pleased with this information, Bernatchez asked Calder to immediately instruct his units to cease further patrolling as his own troops would soon be patrolling near the Foglia and there was a risk of patrols exchanging fire. Only one patrol by the 48th Highlanders on the extreme right boundary was authorized.32
The order to cease patrolling came too late for Cameron’s Hasty P’s. The lieutenant colonel had already dispatched a patrol at 2230 hours with instructions to cross the Foglia and test the German defences. Sergeant E.R. Leroux led his men across the river and then a mile northward to a road running inland from Pesaro. Leroux returned from the patrol at 0430 hours and reported encountering not a single German, despite the fact that the Canadian front lines continued to be battered by German artillery and mortar fire throughout the night. Leroux’s patrol proved that the paratroops, believed to be taking over the entire front facing the Canadians, were still thin on the ground.33
[ 12 ]
Something Radically Wrong
IN A FORTNIGHT’S TIME, the Perth Regiment of Canada’s commander had said in a rousing pre-battle speech delivered while standing on the hood of a jeep, they would “be riding the watery streets of Ven
ice in gondolas.” Private Stan Scislowski had wanted to believe Lieutenant Colonel William Reid, but the man was a newcomer from the Irish Regiment and had yet to win the trust of his new command. The twenty-one-year-old conscript from Windsor was not alone in thinking that the regiment’s own Major M.W. Andrew should have got the regiment when in August Lieutenant Colonel J.S. Lind was promoted to brigadier of the new 12th Canadian Infantry Brigade. “Butterballs,” as the men called Andrew, was from Stratford, whereas Reid shared no links to the Ontario farm country and small towns from which most of the regiment’s ranks hailed. A nice-enough-seeming fellow, Reid, like many high-ranking officers, appeared to think he could rally the ranks by sounding “like a high school football coach whipping his team up for the big game, with all the rah-rah stuff.”1
Scislowski and his mates in ‘D’ Company’s No. 18 Platoon had heard this folderol before at the Arielli River north of Ortona and again at the Liri Valley. Butchered and shamed at the Arielli, the Perths and other regiments of the 11th Canadian Infantry Brigade had then endured a long, cruel march up the Liri Valley. One look at a map showed a hell of a lot of Italy to cover before anyone should indulge in gondola-riding fantasies.
Today alone, the men faced a thirty-five-mile march to relieve the Seaforth Highlanders of Canada. They started out at 1000 hours on what the regiment’s war diarist declared was “one of the warmest days we had.” Except for a small advance party sent ahead to scout the assigned concentration area, most of the regiment’s 37 officers and 795 men were marching.2
“Sweat dripped off our foreheads in a steady stream, brought on not only by the heat absorbed by our steel helmets, but also by the pace of the march,” Scislowski later wrote. “Whoever was up at the head of the column was clipping along too fast for our liking, and it took a lot out of us just to keep up. And that’s when the cursing and the complaining got going. ‘What the hell’s the bloody hurry?’ someone behind me rapped out, and then more voices began to echo rude sentiments. They came thicker and faster by the minute. ‘I’ll shoot the son of a bitch if I ever get my hands on him! I’ll cut his balls off, the bastard!’”3