Tragedy at Dieppe

by Mark Zuehlke

  On one such detail, Private Ernest Clarke tried advancing up a street heading inland, only to discover a machine gun firing up its length. His section worked forward via a series of narrower lanes. When one man set a slow-burning fire inside a house with an incendiary grenade, “several Frenchmen came out... dressed in blue denim shirts and trousers, and some carried what appeared to be lunches... They were rather panicky and ran gibbering and waving their hands above their heads... To our left was a house and on the veranda of the second storey appeared French women. These women were crying and they were quieted by the words of a French Canadian.” Clarke’s platoon assaulted “houses with heavy rifle and MG fire, supported by hand grenades. We went past [a] house, throwing a few more hand grenades, then down the road throwing grenades, [and] into the main street. As we went up the road a brick wall lined each side and a side road which was heavily defended with barbed wire joined this road... An enemy mortar was at the end of the road, but we fired on it and destroyed it. The Jerries seemed surprised and rather snivelling although several of the larger sullen looking creatures still had that arrogant look which made me want to pull the trigger.”22

  Reyburn returned to the garage and, from the cover of a vehicle bay, sized up Pourville: a typical small French resort. Holiday hotels and pensions lined the broad promenade. Behind that, Pourville stretched inland for three or four blocks—“a pleasant little spot, with red brick, grey stone, and wooden buildings, with white picket fences in front of the gardens.” The headlands loomed on either side. Inland, the ground right of the river was hilly and terraced. Thick woods were interspersed by small hotels, a few mansions, and small cottages. The headland left of the river rose steeply.23

  Resistance inside Pourville soon slackened to occasional sniping. But on the village’s eastern flank, the situation remained deadly. Many buildings burned, and German mortars on the headland and at strongpoints guarding the road leading to Quatre Vents Farm hit the village with intense, accurate fire. Despite RAF smoke-laying planes and smoke shells fired by HMS Albrighton and other support ships, German observers on the headland were obviously still able to direct the mortars. Captain Buck Buchanan at battalion headquarters saw that much of the damage resulted from hidden 81-millimetre mortars and a light artillery field gun. Their fire made “the town echo with... continuous explosions.”24

  The battalion’s second-in-command, Major Jim McRae, was forced to move the headquarters when the garage was heavily shelled. He set up again in one corner of the village’s grassy main square, in the lee of several buildings. The signallers had just finished tuning in their wireless sets when a mortar round smacked into the middle of the square. Reyburn “caught a glimpse of a young officer who was standing up with his back to the explosion. Spurts of blood shot out from the front part of his neck and shoulder as the shell-splinters went right through him. He toppled forward into the arms of a companion.” Spattered by pebbles, Reyburn thought nothing of it until an hour later, when he realized his trousers and shirt were damp. “It was a hot, sunny day, and at first I concluded it was merely perspiration. But it was blood, and those ‘pebbles’ had been shell fragments.”25

  Several men had been hit, including Regimental Sergeant Major Roger Strumm. Renowned for a thundering parade ground drill voice, the Great War veteran had suffered a severe leg wound from shrapnel. Lieutenant Colonel Merritt, who had been checking on the rifle companies, arrived several minutes after the explosion to find Strumm on a stretcher. He knelt and said, “I’m very sorry to see you hit, Mr. Strumm.” Smiling broadly, the RSM replied, “They told me I was too old to go into action but I fooled them.”26

  McRae again relocated the headquarters, this time next to a swampy area that had been inundated when the Germans blew small dykes and dams controlling the flow of the River Scie.27 He would move the headquarters six times in all. Captain Buchanan thought McRae “was gifted with a sixth sense. Every time we moved, the previous spot was bombed out.”28

  As casualties mounted and German fire pursued the headquarters doggedly from one place to another, battalion medical officer Captain Frank Hayter had to adapt his methods. Normally, the wounded would be kept at the Regimental Aid Post, but as this had to remain close to the headquarters, Hayter kept men there just as long as was required to treat their wounds. They were then either carried on stretchers or sent as walking wounded “to the beach... by the seawall which helped to protect them from enemy fire.”29

  The landing of ‘A’ and ‘D’ Companies on the wrong side of the river threw that Saskatchewan attack awry. Only Lieutenant Les England’s special force had been set down correctly east of the river. Here Sergeant R.K. Kerr’s No. 1 section used a scaling ladder to get up the seawall and then created a bridge across the thick wire tangle by throwing another ladder on top.30 England led Nos. 1 and 2 sections towards a roadblock and abandoned pillbox about a hundred yards beyond the wall. As they closed in, a machine gun fired. Falling wounded, England shouted at Sergeant R.R. Neil to take over.31

  Meanwhile, Sergeant W.A. Richardson had brought No. 3 section up on the left flank “under heavy fire from MG posts on the hill.” Richardson heard England hand the force to Neil. Somebody had thrown out a smoke grenade, and under its covering veil Richardson jumped on top of the abandoned pillbox to try spotting the machine-gun positions. As the smoke cleared, he saw one about twenty-five yards distant and dug into a hole in the side of the bank. Instead of a Sten gun, Richardson carried a Thompson submachine gun. Standing on the pillbox, he loosed a long burst of .45-calibre that killed the gunners. Richardson then charged his section towards the face of the cliff to get under the fire of a second machine gun that “seemed to be high on the hill and to the right.” At least one more machine gun was firing, and the lines of fire crossing in “the area of the pillbox and roadblock was very accurate. In this advance my section became split and presumably suffered casualties as I had now only two men with me, and on looking back could see two bodies [by the] pillbox.”

  As they reached the cliff face, one of his privates shouted a warning. “A grenade had been thrown from above... landing not more than 25 feet from us. We dropped flat.” Richardson stared at the grenade. It was about eighteen inches long and two inches in diameter, and it had a wooden handle about eight inches long on one end. He had never seen a German stick grenade or been briefed on their existence. It seemed forever before it exploded; when it did, though, nobody was harmed. “As soon as it went off, another landed in the same spot. While waiting [for] its explosion I pulled a [No.] 36 [grenade] from my belt. As soon as [the stick grenade] exploded, I stood up and threw my 36 as high up the cliff as I could in the general area of the enemy grenadier. The 36 went off and as we were no longer interfered with, we crossed the road in hopes of finding the rest of the section.” Finding only Sergeant Neil and another man, the little party moved inland until it came upon the other two special force sections pinned down by more machine-gun and sniper fire. The men spread out and returned fire. Although the range seemed to be about 550 yards, the German fire “was extremely accurate.” Riddled by bullets, twenty-four-year-old Private Donald Daniel John Tyman of Regina fell dead, and another man was badly wounded. The special force had lost too many men to reach and eliminate the strongpoint. Richardson realized they would be lucky not to be wiped out but then observed that although the Germans were “good fighters at long range,” they “showed no inclination to counterattack, although he seemed to be in a good position to cut [us] off... if he showed initiative and guts.” This allowed the special force to tie in with some ‘A’ Company men when they arrived.32

  On the wrong side of the river, ‘A’ and ‘D’ Companies had surmounted the seawall and immediately confronted a single narrow bridge, about eighty feet long, that crossed the river just off the beach. Its eastern exit faced the headland. Both ‘A’ Company’s Captain Murray Osten and ‘D’ Company’s Major Mac MacTavish knew they must cross this bridge t
o gain assigned objectives. The main street, which was also the coastal highway, was under continuous machine-gun fire from a pillbox set alongside the road at the base of the eastern headland. Several other machine guns on the sloping headland also had the bridge zeroed in, as did heavy mortars.

  Men from both companies dashed for the bridge. Private J. Krohn’s section of ‘D’ Company’s No. 16 Platoon came off the seawall, turned hard left, and belted onto the bridge. They were halfway across when machine guns caught them. The leading three men “made a mad dash for the other side,” but Krohn hesitated when three men beside him fell wounded. “It was too late for us to be able to make the dash. One more boy fell right beside me, so I flattened out, rolled myself over the side, into the canal, at the same time dragging one of the boys with me. The bridge was under heavy fire by this time.” More of ‘D’ Company slithered down the bank to the river; a 3-inch mortar dropping smoke rounds to the east provided some cover.33

  Major Osten, meanwhile, had led some of ‘A’ Company across in another mad dash that left more dead and wounded scattered along the bridge’s length. Sergeant Basil Smith and another section “came under very heavy [machine-gun] fire.” More men fell, and the rest of his platoon slid down the riverbank and swam across.34 Corporal H. McKenzie “had a tough time swimming the river, as my equipment dragged me down.”35

  The second-in-command, Lieutenant John Edmondson, had meanwhile set up ‘D’ Company’s headquarters in a gas station 150 yards short of the bridge. Just as the wireless signallers settled, Edmondson noticed a Bren gunner firing at the pillbox across the river from behind an empty gas pump—a typical one, with a glass cylinder on top and a hand pump fixed to the side. Edmondson dashed out and took cover behind an adjacent pump. Acting as spotter, he gave the Bren man an estimated range. After each short burst, Edmondson called adjustments until the Bren gun fire was “peppering around the [pillbox’s] machine-gun slot.

  “That German machine gunner caught sight of us though, because bullets flew down both sides of us. We could see the sparks as the bullets hit the pavement.” Suddenly the gun went silent, and Edmondson thought the Bren gunner’s fire had perhaps struck home.36

  The pillbox had actually fallen to thirty-two-year-old Private Charlie Sawden. Having crossed the bridge, he and a group of men under ‘A’ Company’s Lieutenant C. Stiles were pinned down by the pillbox gun. A laconic farmer from Consul, Saskatchewan, Sawden turned to Corporal Charles Devlin and drawled, “If somebody will hold my rifle, I’ll knock out those guys.”37 Stiles took the gun. Sawden stepped into the gunfire and “nonchalantly strolled up to the pillbox and tossed in two 36 grenades, wiping it out and killing four Jerries,” Private Victor Story wrote later.38 A bullet soon afterwards shattered Sawden’s leg. He was carried to the beach after having the injury crudely splinted with bayonets. Sawden would die in the evacuation.

  About half of ‘D’ Company and all that remained of ‘A’ Company had yet to cross the river. The bridge was strewn with wounded and dead. Edmondson decided the best way over was to string a line under the bridge by looping toggle ropes together. With the bridge concealing them, men could then pull themselves across in single file. He was busy working on this when Lieutenant Colonel Merritt showed up. “That’s too slow,” Merritt shouted. “Go across the top.”

  Edmondson hollered at Major Lefty White, headquartered in a large hotel on the north side of the road just beside the bridge, to cover his group with smoke rounds from ‘B’ Company’s 2-inch mortar. White complied, and Edmondson led three men in a dash onto the bridge. Suddenly, Edmondson was lifted off his feet, hurled through a hedge, and thrown down an embankment to land on his side amid rocks next to the river. His legs were paralyzed, and blood streamed from a forehead gash. Two stretcher-bearers quickly dressed the minor scalp wound. Every time Edmondson tried to stand up, though, his legs failed. Merritt told the stretcher-bearers to evacuate him, but Edmondson called back that he would be okay.

  Edmondson watched Merritt walk back towards the bridge. Helmet held in one hand, Merritt called out to the men hunkered on the wrong side. “Come on, fellows. There’s no trouble here. They can’t hit anything. Get across.”39 A clutch of men responded, dashing through the fire. Others stayed put. Captain H.B. Carswell, a 6th Field Regiment forward observation officer (FOO) who was to direct the guns of HMS Albrighton against German targets, saw Merritt lead “several parties across the bridge... which was swept by machine-gun, mortar and [field] gun fire continuously. He was constantly exposing himself. On many occasions he crossed over the bridge, urging his men forward and calling, ‘See, there is no danger here.’ The men followed him splendidly but were shot down time after time.”40

  Four times Merritt guided a party of men over. Once he was seen to “take off his hat and twirling it, for all the world like a boy with his school books, sauntered across the bridge calling back, ‘Come on, boys, they can’t hit a thing, come on, let’s go and get ’em.’”41

  By the time Merritt finished, Edmondson had regained mobility. He set up ‘D’ Company’s new headquarters in a two-storey pub on the bridge’s east side. Looking at the bridge, he saw the dead piled two deep.42

  It was now 0550 hours, and Edmondson heard a strange sound from seaward. Curious, he ducked across to the seawall. Out on the water, a line of landing craft approached. Edmondson realized the noise was the skirl of bagpipes played by the Queen’s Own Cameron Highlanders’ pipers. The Sasks were about to be reinforced, Edmondson realized. He also knew that ‘A’ and ‘D’ Companies had failed to clear the headland and capture Quatre Vents Farm. The Camerons would land under the fire of German guns.43

  16. Hell of a Fix

  The queen’s own Cameron Highlanders had crossed the channel in R-Boats without incident. They were to land at 0520 hours. Lieutenant Colonel Al Gostling’s gut told him the South Saskatchewan Regiment would be unable to seize both headlands in just thirty minutes. So he asked naval officer Commander H.V.P. McClintock to delay the landing ten minutes. After agreeing, McClintock made several critical errors. “Had we trusted to our dead reckoning and continued at a steady course and speed from our turn on to the last leg of the track laid down we would have made the correct beach about 10 minutes late, which was the time we were aiming for,” he later admitted. “Unfortunately when we sighted the coast we thought we seemed rather close and made a reduction in speed... Later when we could see a bit more we thought that we were rather too far to the eastward and made an unnecessary alteration of course which we later had to correct.”1

  It was broad daylight as the R-Boats closed on the beach. Aboard one carrying a ‘B’ Company platoon that included Private G.L. Bird, “everybody was in the best of spirits, singing and joking.” A thousand yards offshore, the Germans began firing from the eastern headland with machine guns, mortars, and light artillery.2 Shells threw up spouts of water.3 Gostling “was very cool and collected,” explaining the different types of fire. “Listen to that, that’s mobile artillery,” he shouted.4 Amid the explosions and firing guns, the Camerons heard also the skirl of pipes. ‘B’ Company’s piper, Corporal Alec Graham, stood defiantly at one boat’s bow. Company Sergeant Major George Gouk recognized “A Hundred Pipers,” ‘B’ Company’s march-past music. Then the boats grounded “on a gravel beach with shells bursting pretty close.” Captain Norman Young leading, the men jumped off the bow.5

  Touchdown was 0550 hours, twenty minutes later than Gostling had desired. The entire battalion was to have been put down east of the river but instead ended up scattered all along Green Beach. This left the Camerons divided by the river. The largest group, consisting of Major Norman Ross’s ‘A’ Company, two ‘B’ Company platoons, most of the men in three ‘C’ Company platoons, and battalion second-in-command Major Andy Law’s headquarters section, landed west of the river.6

  Gostling’s landing craft correctly landed east of the river but right next to the headland. As Go
stling led the men off the boat, a burst of fire from a pillbox killed him instantly. Captain John Runcie, leading ‘D’ Company, saw Gostling fall—likely the first Cameron to die.7 More men died in the dash for the seawall. They had been led to believe the beach was mostly sand and light gravel. Instead, Law encountered shingle “about the size of eggs and terrible to cross.” The seawall, also reportedly only two to three feet high, presented an eight-foot-tall obstacle.8

  The Camerons with Runcie “crowded in front of it, taking shelter from machine-gun and mortar fire coming from the left... The plan had been for ‘A,’ ‘B,’ and ‘C’ Companies... to cross the wall and assemble in a designated area beyond it; but ‘B’ and ‘C’ Companies had been pinned down by enemy fire and up to this time had not been able to cross the wall.” Runcie conferred with ‘B’ Company’s Captain Norman Young and ‘C’ Company commander Captain R.M. Campbell. The fire was coming from the eastern headland or positions close by. Nothing emanated from Pourville. Runcie said he would reconnoitre that way to see if they might advance from the village. Accompanied by his orderly, Runcie crawled along the seawall to the river. Spreading widely as it discharged into the sea, the river was little more than “a trickle.” On the western side of the river, Runcie found that Camerons here had already cleared the wall and entered the village. He sent his runner to tell Young and Campbell to bring everyone from the eastern side of the river to Pourville.9

  Although ‘A’ Company had landed in good order west of the river, it had been held up by the wire entanglements on the seawall. Corporal J.S. Thomas’s section required fifteen minutes to cut a path through the wire while under “considerable mortar fire” that intensified with each passing minute. The promenade was swept by machine-gun fire. Thomas saw that the pillbox at the base of the eastern headland enjoyed a clear field of fire along the promenade’s entire length.10