An Englishman at War

by James Holland

  As I landed I noticed Bill Enderby, wounded in the arm, and in obvious pain, slowly making his way onto a tank landing craft, which was just about to reverse and return to England with other wounded aboard. I waved to him and continued to extricate my way up the beach, which was littered with a variety of army equipment, including knocked-out tanks, and pitted with deep bomb holes, which made progress difficult.

  Eventually A Squadron joined up with what remained of B and C Squadrons at the prearranged rendezvous, and then came under command of the 56th Infantry Brigade of the 50th Division. En route we passed through a tiny village called Asnelles where we anticipated some sort of opposition, but the Germans had apparently cleared out, and all we saw were some local inhabitants, who appeared to regard us with disinterest and unfriendly suspicion; I do not blame them, as the invasion had caused untold damage to their countryside and should any of them have lived in the villages situated on the invasion beaches their houses would have been completely wrecked.

  Michael Howden, one of my troop leaders, experienced some difficulty in finding the rendezvous. Michael was known as ‘Dis-Mike’, because he suffered from a slight stammer and somehow always managed to have certain difficulty with his wireless set. So often after trying to contact him on the wireless he would suddenly come on the air and say, ‘Sorry, but my m-m-m-mike is d-d-d-dis.’ In other words, the microphone of his set was not working. After repeated calls over the wireless, which drew no reply and caused me anxiety for his safety, I was most relieved to hear once again that well-known stammer from Dis-Mike about his dis-mike.

  Stan Cox was the gunner in Mike Howden’s tank. As they moved inland on D-Day, movement was clearly spotted in a nearby tree. Fearing it was a sniper, about which there had already been many warnings, Howden ordered Stan to give the tree a burst of the Sherman’s machine-gun. Having traversed the turret, Stan then fired, by mistake, the main 75mm gun instead, hitting the trunk about halfway up and felling the tree completely. ‘B-b-b-bugger, Cox,’ exclaimed Howden. ‘That was a b-b-b-bit b-b-b-bloody drastic!’

  Naturally I was most anxious to learn how B and C Squadrons had fared. Owing to the bad weather and choppy seas, the DD tanks were launched very close to the beaches and only swam for a comparatively short distance. Even so, five C Squadron tanks and three B Squadron tanks were swamped after leaving the landing craft, and sank to the bottom of the sea. Most of the crews were rescued, I was relieved to hear, and were awaiting fresh tanks. The villages of Le Hamel and La Rivière were captured without undue opposition. Snipers, however, proved most unpleasant to all tank commanders, and claimed Colonel Anderson as a casualty. A German 50mm anti-tank gun concealed in a house was causing some trouble, and the colonel decided to do a recce on foot. He was warned both by Sergeant Towers, his signal sergeant, and George Jones, the adjutant, to beware of snipers, to which he replied, ‘Don’t worry, I shall be wearing my tin hat.’ He was immediately hit twice by a sniper, and pinned down in a ditch for an hour before he was rescued and sent back to England. Michael Laycock, the regimental second-in-command took charge of the Regiment. Monty Horley, who commanded a troop in B Squadron, was killed as he was landing his tank on the beach.

  The Sherwood Rangers had been a bit rudderless since the death of Donny Player. Colonel Ian Spence, who had taken over from Player, had been brought into the Regiment and had not been especially popular. He had annoyed some of the officers by playing poker in the mess and winning not insignificant sums from some of his men. Back in England, he was promptly given a staff job and replaced by Colonel John D’Arcy Anderson, who had been second-in-command of 2nd Armoured Brigade but had no practical experience of leading a regiment in battle. John Semken, who was now technical adjutant, was certainly unimpressed by Anderson, who had asked him what the technical adjutant actually did. ‘Commander of an armoured bloody regiment who didn’t know that!’ Anderson also tended to speak to the driver of his tank on the A set radio, so that the whole Regiment heard what he was saying, no matter how trivial. Despite these apparent shortcomings, he went on to become General Sir John Anderson, GBE, KCB, DSO, and deputy chief of the Imperial General Staff.

  After a short period for de-waterproofing the tanks and maintenance, the next phase of the battle started and A Squadron supported the Devons in capturing Ryes [sic], which fell without much opposition. Except for Tunisia this was the first time that we experienced tank fighting through villages and in enclosed country, and it was not altogether pleasant, as we found once again that a 30-ton tank with a crew of five is extremely vulnerable to one German infantryman who simply had to conceal himself in a ditch while the tank went past, and then either fire a ‘bazooka’ or throw a sticky bomb on the engine of the tank, which he would write off most easily and then slip away without being seen.

  The Germans did not have American bazookas, but did use two types of anti-tank projectile: the Panzerfaust and the rocket-fired Panzerschreck. Both could be extremely effective, but were only so at short ranges of no more than around 150 yards. Using them against oncoming tanks required nerves of steel.

  Further, the tank commander, who cannot control his tank or troop or fight a battle without his head above the turret, was extremely vulnerable to snipers, who caused so many casualties among our best and most experienced tank commanders. We soon learned that in the bocage country, consisting of deep-sunk lanes bordered by high hedges on either side, tanks could not be operated without close infantry support.

  After the fall of Reyhs [sic], A Squadron fought with the Essex Regiment to capture the high ground outside the old town of Bayeux. I had the greatest difficulty in locating the colonel of the Essex Regiment, who had failed to appear at the prearranged rendezvous, but I was informed by a member of his battalion that he had been seen four miles down the lane. It was most imperative that he should be contacted immediately, so I either had to find him in my tank, as no small vehicles had been landed, which entailed making a most painfully slow and cumbersome journey along a very muddy lane swarming with infantry waiting to take part in the next phase of the attack, or use my feet, which, of course, appeared equally unattractive. However, I found a most happy and ideal solution to my problem, for, much to my amazement, I discovered a fully saddled horse belonging, presumably, to the local policeman, standing patiently outside a house. I immediately mounted and dashed off to locate the commanding officer of the Essex. Never in my wildest dreams did I ever anticipate that D-Day would find me dashing along the lanes of Normandy endeavouring, not very successfully, to control a very frightened horse with one hand, gripping a map case in the other, and wearing a tin hat and black overalls! The Essex colonel was somewhat startled when I eventually found him, and reported that my squadron was all ready to support his battalion in the next phase of the attack.

  Bayeux could have been attacked and captured that evening, as patrols reported that the town was very lightly held, but the commanding officer of the Essex preferred to remain on the outskirts for the night.

  So ended D-Day. The landing had been successful and objectives had been taken and all units of the 50th Division were in the exact position as planned on the sand table over so many conferences. All of us were weary and maybe suffering from reaction; however, after replenishment of the tanks and various order groups for the battle next day, most of us had about five hours’ good sleep.

  On the whole, D-Day was a success for the Allies. It came as a surprise to the German defenders who had not been expecting an attack in such weather and who had been caught off-guard with a number of senior officers away – not least Rommel, commander of Army Group B and the Atlantic Wall. The bridgeheads around each of the five invasion beaches were not as large as had been hoped, and opposite Sword Beach, the British failed to secure the key city of Caen, one of the principal D-Day targets, but the landings had not been pushed back into the sea, which had been the planners’ greatest fear. Overall, too, casualty figures were only a third of those expected. By the end of D-Day, 132,715 troo
ps had been landed along with some 20,000 vehicles.

  The Germans had 10 panzer divisions available in the west: three directly under Rommel’s control, three more in the south-west of France, and four under command of Panzer Group West, which fell beyond Rommel’s direct command. They now had to bring these divisions up to the front as quickly as possible. It was some of these crack units that the Sherwood Rangers would confront in the following days and weeks.

  15

  Fighting in Normandy

  The first Jagdtiger knocked out by the Sherwood Rangers.

  THE NEXT DAY reports came through that the landings on all the beaches had been successful, and that, generally speaking, opposition had been less severe than anticipated, except on Omaha Beach, on our right, where the Americans suffered heavy casualties. At one time their position was very precarious owing to the withering fire on the beach, and they had great difficulty in holding their very limited beach-head.

  The Americans on Utah Beach met the least opposition of all: owing to an error in navigation, they landed where there were fewer obstacles and less resistance – apparently the Germans in that area had relied on a flooded countryside as a form of defence.

  It was interesting to learn afterwards that the coastal defences had not been destroyed by the bombing and the naval bombardment that preceded the attack, owing to the enormous thickness of the concrete and to the fact that accurate bombing was made difficult by the low cloud. However, it must have had a tremendous effect on the morale of the defenders and produced a most unhealthy Maginot Line complex.

  We all had a most wonderful feeling of relief on D-Day+l, knowing that beach-heads had been established all along the invasion coast, resulting from a landing that had been made from high seas which had swamped many landing craft and caused many infantrymen to be swept away as they waded to the beach from the landing craft. At the same time we still appeared to be a long way from Berlin.

  In tank warfare there are two distinct types of fighting: the deliberate frontal attack against prepared enemy positions in order to make a hole in the enemy’s line, through which an armoured column can pass; and the pursuit battle, which follows the piercing of the enemy’s line.

  In the deliberate battle, generally speaking, the tank regiment is placed in support of an infantry brigade, and each squadron of the tank regiment supports an infantry battalion, and the attack is preceded by intensive artillery concentrations on known enemy strong-points, during which time the sappers clear lanes through the minefields through which the tanks can pass. The tank colonel works with the infantry brigadier and the tank squadron leader with the infantry battalion commanders.

  The pursuit battle is altogether more satisfactory and follows the breaking of the enemy’s line. The armoured regiment is sent off on its own, with its company of motorized infantry and battery of guns, and works independently of the brigade to exploit successes and cause havoc in the rear of the enemy; light opposition is brushed aside or, if too strong, bypassed. It is an ideal command where the armoured regiment commander can use initiative, speed and is entirely independent of his brigade commander.

  From the Battle of Alamein to the end of the North-west European Campaign, the fighting consisted of a series of deliberate and pursuit battles and as, throughout the war, only a limited number of armoured divisions existed, the 8th Independent Armoured Brigade was continually called upon to support the very numerous infantry divisions who were not in armoured divisions, for a deliberate attack and then again for the pursuit battle.

  The most unsatisfactory operational command in the army is that of the brigadier of an armoured brigade. Seldom does he take direct command of his three armoured regiments, which are either fighting under command of an infantry brigade in a deliberate battle or have been sent off independently as a regimental group in a pursuit chase. Not often in Europe did he command his whole brigade operating as one unit in a pursuit battle, although he did so in the desert, which in fact can be considered a somewhat specialized, and certainly more pleasant kind of warfare.

  From now on the Regiment fought a continual series of deliberate or pursuit battles until the end of the war, varying in intensity.

  Although this section was probably written after the end of the war, the contrast between the authority and experience of his writing here and that of the young captain new to armoured warfare of just a couple of years earlier is particularly striking.

  On D-Day+l, 7 June, the Regiment attacked that ancient and historic town of Bayeux. A Squadron attacked with the Essex, and B Squadron came in from the north with the South Wales Borderers; C Squadron remained in reserve with Regimental Headquarters at St Sulpice. We were the first troops into the town and were most relieved to find that, except for isolated strong-points in the town and the odd sniper, no Germans were to be found, which prevented any damage to the beautiful and historic buildings. We were given a most enthusiastic and spontaneous reception by the inhabitants, who appeared genuinely delighted to welcome us and demonstrated their joy by throwing flowers at the tanks and distributing cider and food among the men.

  One enemy machine-gun post concealed in a house held out in the south of the town. The building caught fire as a result of our gunfire. After a very short space the clanging of a bell heralded the arrival of the Bayeux fire brigade, manned by a full team all wearing shiny helmets. Regardless of the machine-gun fire, they held up the battle, entered the house, extinguished the fire and brought out the German machine-gun section.

  On 8 June all the regiments of the 8th Armoured Brigade rejoined the brigade and formed a mobile column to move south. The Regiment was ordered to make a small right hook and to occupy some high ground known as Point 103, which overlooked the villages of St Pierre and Fontenay. We encountered en route certain anti-tank guns, which we bypassed, and snipers as usual compelled all tank commanders to keep their heads down, but we arrived at our destination without a casualty, except for Victor Verner, one of my troop commanders, who was hit in the head by a sniper and eventually died from his wound. He had fought with us in North Africa and at all times in battle nothing ever disturbed him: his imperturbability and quiet efficiency inspired confidence from those under his command. His death was a grave loss to the squadron.

  On arrival at Point 103, the squadron took up fire positions in the trees overlooking St Pierre, which appeared to be deserted by the civilians and Germans. As no infantry had arrived, John Bethell-Fox, one of my troop commanders, and Keith Douglas, my second-in-command, climbed down the hill into the village, but had the greatest difficulty in making contact with any of the civilians, who had all taken refuge in the cellars. They eventually persuaded an old Frenchman to come out of hiding; he told them that there were Germans in the village and tanks in the vicinity, then, thinking discretion the better part of valour, they beat a retreat back to their tanks, but on turning a corner they came face to face with a German patrol under an officer. Such an unexpected meeting caused alarm and surprise on both sides and they turned about and made for their respective bases. Keith, however, managed to empty his revolver in the direction of the enemy, but did not wait to ascertain the damage.

  The Germans in the village were the vanguard of the Panzer Lehr Division, one of the finest armoured units in the German Army.

  That evening we were more than pleased at the arrival of some antitank gunners, with a company of machine-gunners, as we felt rather naked and lonely on this high ground, especially at night, without infantry protection.

  On the morning of 9 June Point 103 became most uncomfortable and appeared to be the main target of German mortar and shellfire. Enemy tanks had also appeared on the scene. Although the trees on Point 103 gave some cover from view, it was quite impossible for the tanks to find a hull-down position, and each time they came forward to engage from the top of the hill they became a sitting target for the German tanks in the village, especially for one which cleverly and continually ran up and down a deep lane in the valley that aff
orded natural cover and in which alternative fire positions were plentiful. However, after watching his movements very carefully, Sergeant Dring eventually scored five hits with his 17-pounder and blew him up, but not before he had caused us some damage.

  Michael Howden (Dis-Mike), Sergeant Rush and Sergeant Houghton all had their tanks knocked out, but they and their crews baled out without injury, except that Dis-Mike’s stammer prevented any kind of speech for half an hour and his complexion – which at the best of times is devoid of colour – was even whiter than snow. Peter Pepler from B Squadron was killed by a piece of shrapnel as he was entering his tank and Keith Douglas, my second-in-command, was hit in the head by a piece of mortar shell as he was running along a ditch towards his tank, and was killed instantly.

  Keith had joined the Regiment during our early days in Palestine and had been badly wounded at the Battle of Zem Zem in the desert, but had recovered in time to land with us in Normandy. His early youth had been unhappy owing to parental matrimonial trouble, but an adoring and hardworking mother had found sufficient money to educate him and to send him to the university for one term before the war started. When he joined the Regiment he appeared to have a grudge against the world in general and particularly his fellow Yeomanry officers, of whom there were quite a few at that time, who had been with the Regiment before the war and consisted of the wealthy landed gentry: these he regarded as complete snobs and accused of being utterly intolerant of anyone unable to ‘talk horses’ or who had not been educated at an English public school. He was a complete individualist, intolerant of military convention and discipline, which made life for him and his superior officers difficult. His artistic talents were clearly illustrated by his many drawings and the poetry that he wrote very much in the modern strain, and, had he lived, I am convinced that he would have made a name for himself in the world of art. I recall so many times at various conferences and order groups having to upbraid him for drawing on his map instead of paying attention.