Tragedy at Dieppe

by Mark Zuehlke

  Next to the scout car, Brigadier Southam saw a white flag appear on LCT3. “Very soon... numerous white towels or shirts were seen in the direction of the casino. Rolfe and I were by now destroying and burning our papers. Some which were not yet burned were put into the car to be burned. The next report was that German soldiers were closing in across the esplanade. The operator was ordered out of the scout car and—to the best of my knowledge—an incendiary was started inside the car.” Southam looked at the Germans on the wall and called out, “Sorry, lads, we might as well pack up too.” Then “we raised our hands and that was that.”41

  Southam had made an error of serious consequence for the Canadian prisoners. Instead of first burning the detailed military plan brought ashore, he stuck it inside the scout car. Either the incendiary failed to ignite or was not set off. The plan, including instructions that German prisoners’ hands were to be tied, was captured. In retaliation, throughout the fall of 1942, Canadian and British prisoners were sporadically handcuffed or tied. The British and Canadian governments decided upon a tit for tat that saw German prisoners in both countries selectively handcuffed. Shackling German prisoners was abandoned on December 12, 1942. But the Germans only discontinued the practice on November 22, 1943, after intervention by the International Red Cross.42

  As the Germans approached LCT5, Captain Ed Bennett “was standing... with water up to my knees and I slipped my belt and my pistol into the water so that there were no souvenirs for them. They then led us up the beach and I was taken through the town to the Hôtel Dieu. That was the hospital and Archie [Anderson] left me there. He worked all day on that beach bringing bodies and wounded up and putting them in ambulances. He told me he never was so tired in his life because he worked right until dusk that evening before he was taken away himself. Because my hands and wrists were burned I was never chained... That night we were loaded in railway boxcars—all the wounded were packed in like cattle until we reached Rouen. When we arrived at Rouen we weren’t taken off until [eight] in the morning and during that night wounded men were dying and others crying for water. A great many of them died, I’m sure, in the boxcar that night. We were then taken to the hospital in Rouen and I received quite good treatment there... My one eye was good and I could see if I pried it open, but my right eye had gone and I didn’t ever recover the sight in that one.”43

  At the time of surrender, Labatt’s watch showed it was 1500 hours.44 But most hostilities had ended an hour earlier, the German artillery ceasing fire at 1358.

  The casualty toll in front of Dieppe was dreadful. Although the Essex Scottish suffered the most, the Rileys and Fusiliers had also been savaged. Just 125 Fusiliers returned to England and 217 Rileys. Fifty of these Fusiliers were wounded as were 108 Rileys. The latter battalion had 7 officers, and 172 other ranks were killed. Another officer and 6 other ranks succumbed to wounds, and 2 more officers and 9 other ranks died in captivity. The Fusiliers lost 7 officers, and 98 other ranks were killed. Four wounded other ranks died along with 1 officer and 9 other ranks taken prisoner. The Calgary Tank Regiment had only 2 officers and 10 other ranks killed, with 1 more man dying in captivity. But only 2 tankers who landed reached England.45

  Aboard Calpe, Roberts released a carrier pigeon that flew to I Canadian Corps headquarters. “Very heavy casualties in men and ships,” the report it carried read. “Did everything possible to get men off but in order to get any home had to come to sad decision to abandon remainder. This was joint decision by Force Commanders. Obviously operation completely lacked surprise.”46

  The convoy steamed homeward under protective air cover. As the voyage wore on, the weather deteriorated. Single German bombers used the increasing cloud cover to slip through and attack the ships but were driven off.

  Air Vice-Marshal Trafford Leigh-Mallory’s air battle had not developed as hoped. About 106 Allied aircraft were lost, 98 being fighters or tactical reconnaissance planes. Sixty-seven airmen died. The RCAF lost 13 planes and 10 pilots. Combined Operations Headquarters claimed 91 German aircraft destroyed and twice this number probably destroyed or damaged. German documents, however, reported only 48 planes lost and 24 damaged.47

  German Army losses amounted to “five officers and 116 other ranks killed, six officers and 195 other ranks wounded and 11 other ranks missing.” Although many Germans surrendered on White and Green Beaches, most were left behind. Just thirty-seven were taken to England.48 Possessing the complete military plan allowed the Germans to thoroughly critique the raid. They considered it a folly. The 302nd Division’s Generalleutnant Konrad Haase acknowledged that the Canadians had attacked “with great energy. That the enemy gained no ground at all in Puys, and in Dieppe could take only parts of the beach not including the west mole and the western edge of the beach, and this only for a short time, was not the result of lack of courage, but of the concentrated defensive fire of our divisional artillery and infantry heavy weapons. Moreover, his tank crews did not lack spirit. They could not penetrate the anti-tank walls which barred the way into the town... and some of them were unable to get forward over the rolling beach shingle and cross the seawall. In Puys the efforts made by the enemy, in spite of the heavy German machine-gun fire, to surmount the wire obstacles studded with booby traps on the first beach terrace are signs of a good offensive spirit... The large number of prisoners at Puys was the result of the hopelessness of the situation for the men who had been landed caught under German machine-gun, rifle and mortar fire between the cliffs and the sea on a beach which offered no cover.

  “At Pourville the enemy, immediately after landing, pushed forward into the interior without worrying about flank protection... The operations against the coastal batteries were conducted by the Commandos with great dash and skill.”

  But bravery alone could not suffice. Haase concluded: “It is incomprehensible that it should be believed that a single Canadian division should be able to overrun a German Infantry Regiment reinforced with artillery.”49 Generalfeldmarschall Gerd von Rundstedt cautioned that it “would be an error to believe that the enemy will mount his next operation in the same manner. He will draw his lessons from his mistakes in planning and from his failure and next time he will do things differently.”50

  “It was tougher than you figured, wasn’t it?” Quentin Reynolds asked Major General Roberts. Leaning over a rail, Roberts watched the sea passing. “He looked tired now... He drew a deep breath. ‘Yes,’ he said slowly. ‘It was tougher than we figured. They had more stuff than we knew. Our casualties were heavier.’”51

  The convoy divided—destroyers sailing for Portsmouth, the smaller craft for Newhaven. Portsmouth’s dockyard “was floodlit and a veritable sea of ambulances awaited us,” Hughes-Hallett wrote.52 At Newhaven, the scene was similar. Pre-warned that large numbers of wounded were expected, a hospital train was in place by 1730 hours, and 118 ambulances waited dockside. As the wounded were carried off vessels, they were either transferred to the train or taken by ambulance to a series of hospitals. About six hundred wounded soldiers soon crowded Canadian Army hospitals.53

  The unwounded were well received. The Queen’s Own Camerons were taken to a large hall outside Newhaven “where hot tea and sandwiches waited,” Major Norman Ross said. A room had been set aside where men could write brief messages to next of kin in Canada. “I just put down, ‘Returned safely.’ My wife got this and wondered where the hell I had returned from.”54

  Saskatchewan lieutenant John Edmondson was first subjected to questioning. “What happened? Who came back with you? Who did you see killed or wounded?” Edmondson reported seeing a lot of men killed and wounded but was unable to “remember explicitly anything. Remember, the nine hours ashore seemed like only ten minutes. And in the heat of the moment... you only register someone is hit and do not stop to register, ‘Oh, that is John Smith.’ As well, it was more than thirty hours since our last meal at lunch the day before. Heavens, even I was reported kil
led by someone who had probably seen me knocked off the road at the end of the bridge, so you can’t be sure of anything. They handed me a mug of rum, but the thought nauseated me so I asked for tea and something to eat. That steaming tea and bully beef on white bread sandwich tasted better than anything I’d ever eaten.”55

  “So ended the brave and bitter day,” the Canadian Army official historian wrote. “Under the shaded dockside lights in the English ports, tired and grimy men drank strong tea and told their tales, and the ambulance trains filled and drew slowly out. Back on the Dieppe beaches the Germans were still collecting Canadian wounded, and the Canadian dead in their hundreds lay yet where they had fallen. On both sides of the Channel staff officers were already beginning to scan the record and assess the lessons of the raid; and beyond the Atlantic, in innumerable communities across Canada, people waited in painful anxiety for news of friends in the overseas army—that army which, after three years of war, had just fought its first battle.”56

  Canadian infantrymen carry out an amphibious landing exercise near Seaford, England, on May 8, 1942. Such training little prepared the troops for the reality ahead.

  C.E. Nye photo. LAC PA–144598.

  Chief of Combined Operations Vice-Admiral Lord Louis Mountbatten (right) was determined to conduct major raids against the Germans in the summer of 1942. Photo in the author’s possession.

  The Calgary Regiment stands on parade, July 1942, before going to Dieppe. The Churchill tanks have not yet been waterproofed. Photographer unknown. LAC PA–116274.

  Brigadier Church Mann (left) and Lieutenant General Harry Crerar (centre) were both keen to ensure that Canadian troops formed the backbone of the Dieppe raiding force. This photo was taken in February 1945. The RAF officer on the right is Air Marshal E.C. Hudleston. Ken Bell photo. LAC PA–145766.

  Major General John Hamilton Roberts believed that if he tried to withdraw 2nd Division from the Dieppe raid, his Canadian superiors would replace him with someone willing to carry out the operation. Photographer unknown. LAC PA–153351.

  Ships en route to Dieppe as part of Operation Jubilee, August 19, 1942. Photo in the author’s possession.

  ML230 was one of the escort vessels for the R-Boats of Group 7, which carried the Queen’s Own Cameron Highlanders to Green Beach. Four of the R-Boats are seen here just as they start the run towards shore. Photographer unknown. LAC PA–113247.

  Sailors on guard aboard a destroyer standing off the long chalk cliffs that line the coast around Dieppe. The small beaches are not visible at this distance offshore. Photo in the author’s possession.

  This photo of Canadians inspecting one of the pillboxes on the eastern flank of Blue Beach at Puys was taken in 1944. The obstacles dotting the length of the beach were not present in 1942. From the pillbox, it is easy to see how its guns would have dominated the entire beach. Ken Bell photo. LAC PA–134448.

  LCMs cast off from one of the landing ships and head towards shore. Photo in the author’s possession.

  Pourville and Green Beach were clearly visible from the eastern headland. German batteries positioned here inflicted heavy casualties on the South Saskatchewans and the Queen’s Own Cameron Highlanders. Ken Bell photo. LAC PA–137299.

  The smoke in this aerial view of Dieppe is coming from the burning tobacco factory. Photo in the author’s possession.

  An LCA carrying members of No. 4 Commando comes alongside a landing ship crowded with Canadian troops, returning from their successful raid on the coastal battery at Vasterival-sur-Mer. Frank Royal photo. LAC PA–113245.

  HMS Calpe lays a smokescreen off Dieppe. Photographer unknown. LAC PA–116291.

  Lord Lovat (hatless, with his trademark hunting rifle slung over his shoulder) talks with one of his men of No. 4 Commando while others look on. The unit had just returned to the dock at Newhaven. Photographer unknown. LAC PA–183766.

  An unidentified Hunt class destroyer fires at the Dieppe beaches. Photographer unknown. LAC PA–183772.

  Support ships operate off Red and White Beaches at Dieppe. Photo in the author’s possession.

  Casualties from Red and White Beaches are brought aboard HMS Calpe. Photo in the author’s possession.

  For his part in tending the wounded on White Beach and for refusing to be evacuated when the opportunity presented itself, Royal Hamilton Light Infantry padre Captain John Foote was awarded a Victoria Cross. Gordon Jolley photo. LAC PA–501320.

  Dieppe was a scene of disaster. A beached LCT burns, and strewn around several disabled Churchills lie mostly Canadian dead. The corpse in the foreground is identifiable as an American ranger from his puttees, which were part of the unit’s standard uniform. Photographer unknown. LAC C–014160.

  As the soldiers returned from the raid, staff personnel were quick to record their names and units. Photo in the author’s possession.

  In the aftermath, victorious German officers stand on the beach at Dieppe and take stock of the slaughter. Photographer unknown. LAC C–017293.

  A group of exhausted Canadians return from the Dieppe raid. Some nurse wounds. Photographer unknown. LAC PA–183775.

  Canadian troops and members of No. 4 Commando crowd the docks at New-haven following the raid. Photo in the author’s possession.

  Canadian prisoners are marched through the streets of Dieppe. Photographer unknown. LAC PA–200058.

  The Germans viewed the defeat of the Dieppe raid as an important propaganda victory, which they greatly exploited. This photo is generally believed to have been taken after the dead were removed, with Canadian prisoners made to pose as dead. Note the man in the foreground who has his head pillowed and appears to be sleeping. Photo in the author’s possession.

  Canadian war correspondents interview Lieutenant Colonel Cecil Merritt (centre) in 1945 about his Victoria Cross award at a repatriation depot for prisoners of war. Arthur L. Cole photo. LAC PA–161938.

  Epilogue: Dieppe in Memory

  I stand on a German bunker, gazing down Blue Beach’s length. From seawall to tide line, this bunker overlooks all. I have visited countless battlefields across Europe where Canadians fought and died, but I find Puys the grimmest and saddest of all. The high headlands close in oppressively upon either side. Remains of bunkers dominate every flank. It is impossible to look across that bleak, rocky beach and not be haunted by images and sounds of young men dying. A stark monument, much like a bunker itself, stands close by the eastern headland. Prime Minister Mackenzie King attended its dedication on August 18, 1946. The bilingual plaque reads: “On this beach officers and men of the Royal Regiment of Canada died at dawn 19 August 1942 striving to reach the heights beyond. You who are alive, on this beach, remember that these died far from home, that others, here and everywhere, might freely enjoy life in God’s Mercy.” The monument adds to the pervading melancholy.

  Touring Dieppe’s beaches is a sobering affair, one that confirms the inevitability of Jubilee’s failure. As finally planned and executed, the raid was never going to succeed. Yet it was launched and played through to its tragic conclusion. We still ponder the reasons.

  From the outset, the planning was fatally flawed. Combined Operations, particularly Mountbatten and Hughes-Hallett, wanted to stage something spectacular—not just to meet strategic goals, such as assuaging Soviet demands for western Allied action, but to cement and extend the influence of Combined Operations Headquarters. As Hughes-Hallett admitted, where the raid happened mattered little. The point was to raid on a larger scale than ever before and to be seen as doing something.

  Against this backdrop, the operational plan was allowed to develop through a series of compromises that cumulatively ensured failure. The insufficient naval and aerial fire support, Montgomery’s
insistence on a frontal attack including all the tanks, the execution of this frontal assault in broad daylight against an assuredly alert enemy, and other bad decisions made success impossible. Deciding to remount the raid after Rutter’s cancellation, and without significantly correcting the plan’s increasingly apparent weaknesses, was yet more poor judgement—not just by Mountbatten and Hughes-Hallett but by all the senior Canadian commanders involved, the British Chiefs of Staff, and Churchill.