Tragedy at Dieppe

by Mark Zuehlke

  Haase had also concentrated on exploiting the defensive advantage of the terrain. Both the River Scie at Pourville and the Saane at Quiberville had been dammed where they flowed into the sea. This caused flooding upstream for about two miles and created marshy areas about 250 feet wide. These, it was hoped, would provide some anti-tank protection.

  The ravines cutting through the cliff faces were “covered with wire entanglements and booby traps to the depth to which, judging from the beach, an ascent by a landing enemy would have been feasible,” Haase later wrote. “The valleys of Dieppe, Pourville, and Quiberville are lined on both banks with dominating heights on which were installed defence works and heavy infantry weapons, including beach defence guns. Stretches of the beach between the heights on both sides of the valleys are protected against tanks as follows: near Dieppe in conjunction with the port entrance, and at the two valleys in conjunction with the flooded area, by means of anti-tank obstacles, dragon’s teeth, anti-tank walls, anti-tank minefields, anti-tank ditches. Specifically in Dieppe all approaches from the beach to the interior of the city are sealed off by strong concrete walls.”21 Although in some cases a small gap was left, most walls entirely closed off the streets. Each roadblock was about eight feet high and three to four feet thick. On the town side, roadblocks were sloped to create a fire step. British aerial reconnaissance failed to detect that most roadblocks had an anti-tank gun sited behind them. To avoid detection, these guns were emplaced after dark and then pulled into cover at daybreak.22 Several old caves in the west cliff upon which the castle stood were used to hide guns. One cave, about nine feet wide by twelve feet deep, concealed a 75-millimetre gun. The ammunition, consisting of 150 rounds, was stacked in boxes against the cave’s rear wall.23 Other caves in both the west and east cliff faces concealed machine-gun positions and other light artillery.

  The Dieppe strongpoint was protected by all-round obstacles, such as wire barriers, gun positions, and concrete command posts. Not expecting a frontal assault on Dieppe, the Germans emphasized landward defences as much as those on the beach. All approaches into town were as “thoroughly covered” as those leading off the promenade, as protection “against parachute landings.”24 By mid-August, the division had completed about 60 per cent of its construction plan.25

  Although the Germans had gathered no concrete intelligence about the staging and subsequent cancellation of Operation Rutter, by mid-July they believed that a strong raid or even cross-channel invasion was imminent. This fear was based on logical calculation rather than intelligence gathering. Moon and tide information indicated that the periods of July 23 to August 3, August 10 to 19, and August 25 to September 1 were feasible for such operations. After that, conditions would be less favourable.

  On July 3, Commander-in-Chief, West, Generalfeldmarschall Gerd von Rundstedt began whipping the troops to a fever pitch to meet the threat. “It is our historic task to prevent at all costs the creation of a ‘Second Front,’ ” he warned. All strongpoint and defensive area commanders were sworn to defend their positions to the death. On July 6, Haase summoned all the division’s officers down to the rank of captain. Before these witnesses, Haase pledged to defend Dieppe to his last breath.26

  The Germans became increasingly anxious about the expected attack. On July 10, LXXXI Corps—of which the 302nd Infantry Division was a part—authorized “an immediate and drastic increase” in established divisional strength. Each rifle company was bolstered by two light mortar sections. A heavy mortar platoon consisting of six 12-centimetre mortars was added to every machine-gun company.27 These mortars were most effective at ranges between 2,200 and 3,800 yards, but had a maximum range of 6,500 yards. When fitted with percussion fuses, the shell shattered on explosion into splinters that flew horizontally to cover a large area.28

  The division’s regiments were each supplemented by one light-infantry gun platoon armed with two light guns. Regimental infantry anti-tank platoons were strengthened to anti-tank company size. Two platoons within these companies were armed with 37-millimetre anti-tank guns and two other platoons with 50-millimetre anti-tank guns. Each artillery battalion was increased by a third battery. One of these batteries was armed with four 80-millimetre field guns. The other two each received four light field howitzers. Substantial increases were also made in signal, supply, and medical personnel.29

  A month later, on August 8, the commander of Fifteenth Army, Generaloberst Kurt Haase (no relation to Konrad Haase), issued a veritable call to arms that was distributed throughout the ranks of 302nd Division. “Various reports suggest that owing to the DESPERATE position of the Russians—the Anglo-Americans will soon be forced TO TAKE SOME KIND OF ACTION IN THE WEST... I have repeatedly given the troops this news, and request you to REPEAT my orders AGAIN AND AGAIN in order to ensure that these thoughts BECOME AN OBSESSION and that they DO NOT EXPECT ANYTHING ELSE!

  “The troops must realize that it will be a VERY STICKY BUSINESS!” He went on to describe how they would face attack from bombs, naval guns, commandos, assault boats, airborne troops, and hostile citizens. Sabotage and murder could be expected. “STEADY NERVES will be required if we do not want to GO UNDER!

  “FEAR DOES NOT EXIST! When the hail of smoke pours down upon the troops, they must wipe their eyes and ears and grasp their weapons firmer than ever and defend themselves as never before! HE OR WE! That’s the slogan for all!!

  “I have looked into YOUR EYES! You are GERMAN MEN! You will willingly and bravely DO YOUR DUTY! And THUS REMAIN VICTORIOUS! Long live our PEOPLE, our COUNTRY, OUR FÜHRER ADOLF HITLER!”30

  Ten days later, on August 18, 302nd Division was at a high state of readiness as the sun set over the English Channel. All personnel were to man their normal duty stations fully dressed. Clothes were to remain on when sleeping, and equipment was to be kept close at hand.31 In the past few days, the men had been repeatedly told there would be an English invasion by August 20 because Russia “had threatened she would otherwise throw in the sponge.”32 Yet the repetitive routine of garrison duty made it difficult to remain constantly vigilant. Every night, from 2200 hours to 0600 hours, most men were on sentry duty, with two hours on followed by two hours off. At 0600 hours, they stood down and slept until 0930. The next hour was spent bathing and eating breakfast. From 1030 to 1130, weapons were cleaned. At noon, a two-hour dinner period began. Then, from 1400 to 1730 hours, the troops laboured on defensive construction. At 1730 hours, a free period began that lasted until 2200 hours. This was the pattern. One day blended unchangeably into the next.33

  Although OB West had issued an alert for the entire coast, and von Rundstedt considered the weather forecast for August 18–19 “suitable for enemy raiding operations,” his Luftwaffe counterparts differed. The prediction of fine morning weather followed by thick overcast in the afternoon convinced the headquarters of Luftwaffe No. 3 Air Fleet that enemy action was unlikely. As the Luftwaffe operated independent of OB West, there was nothing von Rundstedt could do to override its commanders. And they decided to grant a twenty-four-hour leave to one of every three pilots. Most passed the night of August 18–19 in a village forty miles from Dieppe with women from the LN-Helferinnen (Women’s Auxiliary Air Signals Corps). In the afternoon of August 18, a gaggle of correspondents, film cameramen, and photographers descended to record the activities. This was part of a propaganda tour intended to encourage more Aryan women to join the corps by showing the happy times they could have helping dashing pilots relax. After dinner, a large dance ensued, with the women in evening gowns and the pilots wearing white dinner jackets or their white summer mess tunics. The party was still in full flight at dawn.34

  The night was warm. Despite all warnings, the soldiers of 302nd Division felt no sense of urgency. German air reconnaissance in the early part of the night reported activity around British ports “was, if anything, less than normal.” At 0130 hours on August 19, sentries returning to the Varengeville battery “und
ressed and went to sleep” in disregard of their orders to remain fully clothed. They expected to wake to another dawn as repetitive as those that had preceded it during their many months of duty near Dieppe.35

  11. The Die Was Cast

  Across sussex, 2nd Canadian Infantry Division spent early August enmeshed in preparations for exercises serving as covers for Operation Jubilee. It was a time of unusual orders. All infantrymen now conducted every exercise loaded down with “all the items that would normally be carried on an actual operation. Each man carried three grenades, 150 [rounds] .303, special bombs, 200 [rounds] .450 if equipped with the light automatic and extra .303 for [light machine guns],” the Royal Regiment’s war diarist noted.1

  Although battalion and company commanders knew better, the junior officers and men were told on August 10 that these preparations were for a combined-operation demonstration in conjunction with the Calgary Tank Regiment. Such was the level of authenticity, the tankers were instructed to waterproof their Churchills.2 Not everyone was fooled. When Essex Scottish’s Company Sergeant Major Cornelius Stapleton saw that the exercise involved only those battalion members originally detailed to Operation Rutter, he suspected the raid was back on. He nursed the suspicion in silence.3

  The demonstration was code-named Popsy and was to be proceeded by a movement exercise to designated positions called Ford I. There would also be a Ford II and Ford III. These exercises would last “for a month commencing 15 Aug 42,” the divisional war diary recorded.4 August 15 was a Saturday. The officers down to the company commanders spent this weekend ostensibly planning Ford I, first at divisional headquarters and then at their respective brigade and battalion headquarters. For the men, meanwhile, the weekend was largely free of extra duties. After Sunday morning’s church parade, the Royals’ diarist wrote, “the rest of the day was observed as a holiday.”

  On Monday morning, umpires arrived at the Royals’ headquarters to oversee Popsy and were assigned two rooms. Ford I, Lieutenant Colonel Bob Labatt announced, would begin on Tuesday, August 18.5

  Later, the many unusual occurrences during the week leading up to August 19 would be recognized as preliminaries to staging the raid. For Les Fusiliers Mont-Royal, one clue was the premature recall on August 14 of Captain Robert Hainault and thirty men from an anti-tank-gun course. All weekend, more officers returned abruptly from leave or courses. On Sunday, Lieutenant Pierre Loranger, off serving as a 3-inch mortar instructor at the Rowlands Castle Battle Drill Course, returned. He was accompanied by Lieutenant M. Ranger, who had been taking the course.6

  It was the same for all regiments. “A few eyebrows went up” among the troops of the Royal Hamilton Light Infantry, its regimental history reported, when on Monday, Major N.A. “Norry” Waldron returned unexpectedly from a posting at the divisional reinforcement unit. A spare, short, bespectacled man, with a Groucho Marx–style moustache, Waldron was the regiment’s toughest training officer. Although he yelled at the men almost incessantly, Waldron always personally demonstrated each task with a perfection not easily matched. His return could only foretell that Popsy was going to be a tough one.7 Waldron was not the only officer returned unexpectedly that day. Captain A.C. “Tony” Hill showed up. More surprisingly, Captain John Currie, Lieutenant Colonel Bob Labatt’s brother-in-law, was yanked from a course on becoming a company commander. Lieutenant T.R. McCoy hurried back from an intelligence course.8

  Requiring more time to move their Churchills to LCTs at Gosport harbour, four troops of the Calgary Tank Regiment’s ‘C’ Squadron and two of ‘B’ Squadron loaded onto tank transporters and started out from billets at Seaford on Sunday evening at 1900 hours. They did so even though the decision to launch Operation Jubilee would not be finalized until the morning of August 18, the Tuesday.9

  The waterproofing of the tanks was mostly complete, and operating them in seawater was possible at depths of six feet. Louvre extensions—long, box-shaped stacks—were attached to air vents. Two angled extensions to the exhaust pipes thrust up well above the turret. A crossbar connecting the two pipes added stabilizing strength to prevent bending or breaking due to the drag caused by moving through water. Once ashore, electrically triggered cordite charges would blow most of the waterproofing materials and louvre extensions clear of the tank. Not considered an operational impediment, the extended exhausts stayed in place. Tank waterproofing was still experimental, and tanks so treated had never previously gone into battle. There was, however, no fallback plan should the waterproofing fail and the tanks founder underwater.10

  Development of the waterproofing had been supervised by the regiment’s technical adjutant, Captain Bill Payne, and his quartermaster sergeant, Joe Freeman. Prior to Rutter, they had used a swimming pool on the Isle of Wight to test and improve techniques. The job had been exasperating. Payne finally declared to anybody who would listen that tank hulls could only be fully waterproofed during construction. The most they could hope to achieve now was reducing leakage to a slow trickle or seep. Since by mid-August the waterproofing had been installed for more than a month, Payne’s new anxiety was that the materials might have deteriorated.11

  On Monday, that part of the regiment selected for movement to the closer harbour of Newhaven concluded its final preparations. Trucks were loaded with ammunition and the tanks given last inspections. Personnel were instructed on when to leave billets and meet assigned transport. At 2000 hours, the last tanks of ‘B’ and ‘C’ Squadrons and all of ‘A’ Squadron clattered off under their own power for Newhaven and were soon loaded onto LCTs. They were promptly followed by the other regimental vehicles that would be going to Dieppe and the trucks loaded with ammunition. By midnight, the quays next to the LCTs were hubs of activity, with ammunition, tanks, carriers, scout cars, and blitz-buggies (early-model jeeps) all being slung aboard.12

  Eighteen LCTs were required to carry the fifty-eight tanks, eleven Daimler scout cars, and fifteen blitz-buggies. Although manned by Calgary tankers, two of the blitz-buggies were equipped as ambulances, and most others were to be under divisional control. Several scout cars were similarly designated to serve brigade and divisional headquarters.13

  The loading process was complete by 0630 hours. Then the tankers slung hammocks on deck and rested until noon. After eating their emergency “iron” rations, the tank crews completed last-minute waterproofing, cleaned guns, and carried out routine tank maintenance. They were in the midst of this when Lieutenant Colonel Johnny Andrews spread word that the exercise was in fact “an actual operation against Dieppe, a strongly fortified town on the French coast. Excitement ran high as all ranks prepared their vehicles and equipment for the coming engagement,” the Calgary war diarist wrote. “By 2100 hours, all vehicles were ready and crews were waiting impatiently for the landing craft to leave harbour.”14

  Although the tankers moved in advance of the other raiding troops, they learned at the same time as everyone else that the exercise was really a raid. In fact, the final decision to launch Operation Jubilee was not made until the next day—August 18. After consulting with Major General Ham Roberts, Air Vice-Marshal Leigh-Mallory, and Captain John Hughes-Hallett, Commander-in-Chief, Portsmouth, Admiral Sir William James issued this order at 1002 hours. It was not an easy decision. Originally, the force commanders had favoured initiating the operation on August 17 so that it would take place the following day. But poor weather forecasts had led to a twenty-four-hour push-back. The forecast remained questionable, but if the raid was to proceed, mobilization of troops to embarkation points must begin. And the two minesweeping flotillas had to stage near Beachy Head to move ahead of the convoy into the minefield. Accordingly, 9th Minesweeping Flotilla sailed at 1215 hours from Portsmouth and 13th Minesweeping Flotilla at 1545.15

  Confident that weather would not scrub the raid, Hughes-Hallett wrote two formal letters to Mountbatten. The first, which he authored alone, outlined Combined Operations’ need for a dedicated navy.<
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  Naval vessels for previous combined operations had to be borrowed from other commands. The LCTs, for example, came from an administrative LCT command based at Troon in South Ayrshire, Scotland. Because of the secrecy surrounding Jubilee, the LCT commander was unaware of the purpose to which his vessels were assigned. Consequently, he nearly derailed the operation by issuing orders that would relieve half the LCT commanding officers and their first lieutenants. Hughes-Hallett’s frantic intervention got the order cancelled, but it had been a struggle to do so while maintaining operational secrecy.

  This was not the only calamity narrowly avoided at the last minute. Hughes-Hallett had secured two obsolescent motor gunboat flotillas because of their “unusually large smoke-laying capability.” These would “protect landing craft lying offshore from... enemy fire.” On August 16, the young captain in overall command of these flotillas arrived unannounced at Fort Southwick—a small fort overlooking Portsmouth from Portsdown Hill that served as the local Combined Operations Headquarters for the Dieppe raid. The officer said he was under orders from his boss at Coastal Forces Depot in Gosport “to return [the flotillas] at once so that the smoke making apparatus could be dismantled and removed.” Again, Hughes-Hallett acted quickly to have this order overruled.

  These two outside threats to Jubilee’s naval plan had convinced him that Combined Operations required its own dedicated navy consisting of sufficient landing craft to carry an entire brigade group. It would also require dedicated “escort craft and destroyers, its own navigational craft to act as guides to landing craft flotillas, and its own headquarters ship. The primary role of the force should be training, and it should be expanded steadily as the date for the invasion [of France] approached until it was large enough to lift the whole of the British Army units which were to be committed to the assault. A secondary role would be to carry out cross Channel raids from time to time as opportunity offered. Above all, this Naval Assault Force should be commanded through the normal naval chain of command.”