Ortona
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To what extent the growing press attention and Montgomery’s insistence that Vokes hurry up the offensive influenced his decisions cannot be known. It seems probable, however, that the pressure contributed to Vokes’s continuing to throw his battalions against The Gully in a piecemeal fashion apparently governed more by a desire for haste than any form of sound planning. On the night of December 12, Vokes issued yet another flurry of orders directing one of the only two battalions remaining in reserve to launch a frontal assault against the Panzer Grenadiers.
This time the futile task fell to the Carleton and York Regiment, composed primarily of men from New Brunswick. The 3rd Canadian Infantry Brigade battalion was to pass through the Loyal Edmonton Regiment’s position on Vino Ridge and advance up the main axis of old Highway 16 toward Cider Crossroads. A creeping artillery barrage supplemented by the mortars of both 2nd Canadian Infantry Brigade and 3 CIB would closely precede the advancing troops. Fourteenth Canadian Armoured Regiment (Calgary Tanks) was “to give what support was possible in the deteriorating weather. On both flanks of the main thrust a coordinated effort to reach the lateral road was to be made with the West Nova Scotia Regiment on the left and the PPCLI on the right.” The Hastings and Prince Edward Regiment was to continue pressing up the coast road. One company of the Royal 22e Regiment was to follow behind the Carleton and York Regiment to “mop up.” Zero hour was set for 0600 December 13.9
While looking fairly impressive on paper, this coordinated plan failed to acknowledge the weakness of the supporting battalions. The West Novas, the PPCLI, and the Hasty P’s could no longer function as regiments — casualties had reduced them to the size of mere companies. None of these regiments could offer much punch to support the fresh Carleton and York Regiment. The attack plan was basically a replay of those that had failed previously. One battalion was to go forward, virtually alone.
At 0600 hours, under an unexpectedly sunny sky, the attack kicked off with ‘A’ and ‘D’ companies leading and ‘B’ and ‘C’ companies following close behind to serve as a reserve. The Panzer Grenadier response was an immediate and violent opposition with medium machine guns, mortars, artillery, and tanks. The Canadians’ creeping artillery barrage rolled on across The Gully, leaving the stalled infantry far behind. While managing to destroy three of the German machine-gun positions and taking twenty-one prisoners, the Carleton and Yorks were forced back from the ridgeline overlooking The Gully an hour after the attack began. Attempts to counter the German tanks with Shermans of the Calgary Tanks also proved fruitless, as one of the Canadian tanks was destroyed and most of the others bogged down in the deep mud.
Commander Lieutenant Colonel John E.C. Pangman tried repeatedly to rally his troops and move them forward, but each assault crumbled before it could get underway. At 1600 hours things went from bad to worse when No. 16 Platoon of ‘D’ Company was cut off from the rest of the battalion by a German counterattack. Taking shelter in a house near Cider, the platoon was surrounded. Attempts by ‘B’ Company to break through to relieve them failed. The whole platoon was lost, twenty-eight of the men forced to surrender and the rest killed.10 In all, the Carleton and Yorks lost eighty-one men, including four officers. Two were company commanders.
Among those taken prisoner was ‘C’ Company commander Major Graeme “Buck” Simms and the RCHA forward observation officer Captain Bob MacNeil. The two officers were part of a small unit overrun by a superior force of Germans. As MacNeil, the third RCHA FOO lost in as many days, walked into custody, a sergeant major said, “Come, Englander, for you the war is over.”11
Just as the Carleton and York attack faltered, so did the supporting assaults by the West Novas, the PPCLI, and the Hasty P’s. The PPCLI attack saw ‘B’ Company use the artillery barrage to advance to the crest of Vino Ridge. As the barrage rolled on, the soldiers slugging their way through the mud saw a green flare come up out of The Gully. Seconds later, they were caught in a devastating counter-barrage that was obviously firing on a pre-targeted position in anticipation of their advance. The company staggered back to its start line.12
The West Nova Scotia battalion really never got underway in the morning, being pinned down by heavy artillery, mortar, and small-arms fire throughout the day. At 1630 hours, ‘A,’ ‘C,’ and ‘D’ companies, with a strength of little more than one hundred men remaining, attacked what Major Ron Waterman thought to be a lightly held machine-gun position that had been harassing the battalion all day from about 300 yards to the right. The attack proved the position was anything but weak. Casualties were heavy. ‘D’ Company, with only one commander and ten men remaining, actually reached the objective but had to withdraw without succeeding in knocking it out.13
On the coast, the attempt by the Hasty P’s to push two companies up the road was stopped dead on The Gully’s forward slope by intense machine-gun and mortar fire. Their gain was measured in mere yards.14 “Everywhere along the divisional front the enemy fought with that remarkable tenacity which he had displayed a few days before on the banks of the Moro; this morale factor, combined with his knowledgeable exploitation of the lateral gully as a tactical feature, made 90th Grenadier Division a formidable adversary,” stated one after-action report.15
Finally, however, Vokes was recognizing that the only way of defeating The Gully was to outflank it. Urged by Brigadiers Graeme Gibson and Bert Hoffmeister to try combined tank and infantry sorties around the western flank of The Gully, Vokes had cut orders on the night of December 12 to mount two limited versions of such operations in the morning. Like someone who has burned his hand and is afraid of the heat, Vokes authorized both the Seaforth Highlanders of Canada and the West Nova Scotia Regiment to commit a company each in an attack at the separate potential crossings the two battalions had discovered the previous day. Each would be supported by a squadron of Ontario Tanks.16
At 0700 hours, West Nova Scotia’s ‘B’ Company platoon commander Lieutenant James Jones and Lieutenant F.P. Clarke of ‘B’ Squadron of Ontario Tanks set out to attack the clearing they had scouted the previous night. Clarke had three tanks and Jones’s No. 10 Platoon spread itself in equal numbers on the outside hulls. The racket made by the advancing tanks was masked by the creeping artillery barrage supporting the Carleton and York attack. Clarke drove the tanks in fast. The lead tank tore past a small house containing one machine-gun position, startling the half-awake gunners. Before they could man their weapon, the second tank destroyed the position with a shot from its 75-millimetre main gun. The machine gunners were all killed. Farther along the trail an antitank gun was spotted. This, too, was knocked out by cannon fire before the dazed Panzer Grenadiers could get it into action. Infantry staggered out of their slit trenches with their hands up as No. 10 Platoon leapt off the tanks and rushed their positions.
Bursting through brush into a clearing, Jones’s men and the tankers confronted a farmhouse and three Panzer Mark IVs in cover under some nearby trees. The house appeared to be a battalion headquarters. Officers, orderlies, and other soldiers who were too clean and well dressed for front-line troops were clambering out of windows and doors and taking flight into the surrounding vineyards and olive groves. The head of a German popped up in the turret of one of the tanks. Jones threw himself prone, shoved the butt of the Bren gun he carried into his shoulder, and killed the man with a short burst. Clarke punched a tank shell into the enemy tank. Seconds later, another of the Canadian tankers dispatched one of the other tanks. The third German tank got off one round before being destroyed.
A splinter from that shell hit Jones in the shoulder, as he was mowing down the German staff fleeing the house. Despite serious pain, Jones continued to lead his platoon forward.17 At 1030 hours the rest of ‘B’ Company, led by Captain F.H. Burns, arrived to reinforce the small raiding party. Jones “expressed the wish to carry on with the attack, but was ordered back for medical aid by his company commander,” read his subsequent Military Cross citation.18 Jones’s platoon of about twenty-five men was cred
ited with killing some thirty Germans and capturing a further fifty-two.
No. 10 Platoon remained to mop up enemy resistance around the tank harbour, while the rest of ‘B’ Company and ‘B’ tank squadron turned The Gully’s flank and advanced northeast toward Casa Berardi. They followed a track running between the Ortona-Orsogna lateral highway and The Gully. When they were but 1,000 yards from Casa Berardi, with Cider Crossroads visible beyond, the combat team was barred from further advance by a narrow, deep ravine lying at right angles to The Gully. The tanks could not cross this obstacle, and when Burns tried leading his infantry across alone they were driven back by a now fully awake enemy. ‘B’ Company and the supporting tanks formed up on the western flank of the narrow ravine and refused to be budged by Panzer Grenadier counterattacks.19
Captain June Thomas of the Seaforths’ ‘A’ Company still expected to be relieved of command of the thirty-five men left in his unit. The wet, cold morning that dawned on December 13 did little to brighten his despondent mood. Neither did the arrival of Captain Don Harley, who was the battalion’s mortar platoon commander and a capable rifle company leader. The two men talked little, both seemingly embarrassed by the other’s presence. Thomas was sure Harley was just waiting for his watch hands to reach noon — the time that Thomas thought he was to report to Major Syd Thomson at battalion HQ.
About 1100 hours, Thomas’s radio crackled with a message telling ‘A’ Company to go around the left flank along the track Thomas had discovered. A squadron of Ontario Tanks commanded by Major Herschell “Snuffy” Smith would provide support. The major was to have overall command of the combat force.
Thomas looked at his watch, then turned to Harley. “Look,” he said, “you’re not taking over until noon and it’s only eleven o’clock. I’m still in command.”20 Harley didn’t contradict Thomas. Neither did he assure Thomas that he was not supposed to assume command unless Thomas appeared unfit to continue leading his battle-weary and much reduced company.
The small unit set out, following a long, sweeping approach that crossed The Gully via the culvert Thomas had discovered the previous day. They met no resistance, but the mud caused two of the tanks to bog down. Only three remained operational as Thomas’s platoon reached a low rise overlooking The Gully.
By now, the Germans were aware of the force’s presence and sporadic sniper fire was picking away at them, but it seemed they all lived charmed lives — not a man was hit. Thomas could see that the gently rising terrain bordering the northern edge of The Gully before him was probably riddled with dug-in Panzer Grenadier positions. He broke his infantry into two sections that he and Harley would lead, and a third smaller section consisting of only three men. The two larger sections would take either flank, while the smaller provided some base of fire from the centre. Yelling up at Smith, he said, “Light up what you can see. I’m going to just form open line and go over the top, because I think there’s something down in the bottom of the valley.”21 He then told his men to fix bayonets and prepare to charge.
With a burst of cheers at Thomas’s signal to advance, and screaming as they went, the thin line of infantrymen went over the top of the rise at a full run. The previous day Thomas had feared these men would rebel at another futile assault up Vino Ridge, but they didn’t let him down today when there was a chance of success. The tanks rumbled along immediately behind. Thomas’s section was on the left, Harley’s on the right. The attack went in with such speed and force that the Panzer Grenadiers failed to realize the true size of the attacking force. Germans jumped up out of their holes and fled, others cast aside their guns and surrendered. Smith’s Shermans knocked out two Mark IV tanks and their machine-gun and cannon fire prevented the Panzer Grenadiers from mustering effective resistance. As they closed on a small farmhouse, the door opened and an officer came out to surrender. Thomas discovered he had overrun 3rd Battalion’s headquarters.
The infantry captain’s biggest concern now was how to maintain control of all his prisoners, who must soon realize they outnumbered their captors. “Hell, how am I going to cope with all these people?” he muttered. He told his radio signaller to dump his set and take a couple of other men to round up the Germans before they started filtering back to their weapons. Thomas would retain communication with battalion HQ through Smith’s tank radio. Leaving one tank to help with controlling the prisoners, Thomas and Smith pushed on toward Casa Berardi. They could hear heavy fighting in that direction, which they imagined was made by the Carleton and York Regiment breaking through The Gully and closing on their day’s objective.
Another of the tanks got stuck, leaving them with only Smith’s tank positioned in the centre of the advancing line. They overran another enemy trench system, taking more prisoners and sending many others scrambling toward Casa Berardi, which was little more than 500 yards away. A few minutes later, Smith’s tank became mired in the muck. Frustrated, Smith and Thomas both knew they would have to halt the advance and withdraw.2222 They radioed the Ontario Tanks HQ and received permission to break off the action. Having knocked out two German tanks, two antitank guns, and three self-propelled guns, and rounded up seventy-five prisoners, the small force had achieved miracles — especially as they had suffered not a single casualty.23
Smith’s crew abandoned the tank. Rather than see the enemy capture it, Smith tossed a grenade inside to set off the ammunition and destroy it. The men then walked out to a position at the head of The Gully and dug in for the night. Thomas was surprised when Thomson congratulated him on the action and never raised the subject of his relief. Fearful of reopening the question, Thomas kept his own silence. He imagined that the success his company had enjoyed might have led Thomson to change his mind.24
While the attack was recognized immediately by Vokes’s intelligence staff as a “spectacular thrust on the left which almost loosened the whole front,” it also revealed the foolishness of the previous strategy of trying to crack The Gully from the front.25 A handful of men with a meagre number of tanks had achieved what several battalions, squadrons of tanks, thousands of artillery shells, and hundreds of aerial bombardment missions had failed to accomplish in three days of bitter fighting.
Adding to the frustration was the fact that the Canadians were unable to capitalize on either successful foray. Vokes had so scattered his three infantry brigades and the supporting tank brigades across the battlefront that he had nothing left in reserve. Moreover, his battalions were desperately weak from heavy casualties and losses to sickness, and the mounting toll that battle exhaustion was wreaking on the front-line troops. Most of his rifle companies had been in near continuous combat for over a week. The men were worn out from being able to catch only short naps between mounting assaults, conducting reconnaissance patrols, standing sentry duty, fighting off counterattacks, and enduring the endless concussive racket and danger posed by the night-and-day shelling and machine-gunning of forward positions. Nobody had changed his clothes. They were all unshaven, covered in filth, mud, and blood from their own minor cuts and scrapes and those of badly wounded or killed comrades. There was never enough food or an opportunity to eat it in any degree of comfort. At night they froze and during the day sweat and rain saturated their clothing, preparing them to endure yet another chilling night. Nerves were wire taut.26
Vokes now realized his error and in the late afternoon of December 13, he set about planning for a renewed offensive in the morning that would follow the path by which the Seaforths had achieved their spectacular success. The only battalion at close to full strength was 3rd Canadian Infantry Brigade’s Royal 22e Regiment (Van Doos). With support from ‘C’ Squadron of Ontario Tanks, commanded by Major Herschell Smith, the Van Doos were ordered to advance at 0730 hours behind yet another creeping artillery barrage. This time, however, Vokes was certain the attack would finally open the door to the main lateral road.27
What Vokes didn’t know was that the German defences in The Gully were never weaker than they were on the afternoon of Dece
mber 13. The 90th Panzer Grenadiers were all but finished as a fighting force, and 1st Parachute Division had not yet managed to effect a complete relief. Some of its regiments were still only approaching Ortona from the north, others were in Ortona but still preparing to move toward The Gully. Had the reserves been ready to follow up the turning of the German western flank that day, the Canadians might have shattered the enemy line entirely before a defence of Ortona could be mounted by the paratroopers. Ortona might have fallen in the kind of short, sharp action that Vokes had originally envisioned once he won the north side of the Moro River. He was too late. As the Van Doos prepared, the Germans rebuilt and reinforced. The morning would see a bitter fight — one that would become a legend in the history of the French-Canadian regiment.
Feldwebel Fritz Illi was a platoon commander of 6th Company, 2nd Battalion, 3rd Regiment of the 1st Parachute Division. He had been eighteen when Germany invaded Poland in September 1939. Hearing the news that Germany was at war, his entire high school class in Zuffenhausen had enlisted at nearby Stuttgart. Illi volunteered right away to be a paratrooper. Third Regiment was just forming, so Illi became one of its original members. His first action had been on May 10, 1940, when 2nd Battalion ghosted down from the sky onto the Dutch airfield at Rotterdam. By December 1943, Illi had survived seven combat jumps: Rotterdam, Narvik, the Corinth Canal, Crete, Leningrad, Tobruk, the Caucasus Mountains, and finally Catania in Sicily. In Crete a mortar fragment had left his little finger dangling by some sinew. The medical officer sliced the finger off, slapped on a bandage, and sent him back into the action after yelling, “Germany needs every soldier to fight on!” Illi fought on for the fourteen days it took the parachutists to win Crete. At battle’s end, 75 percent of Illi’s company were casualties.