An Englishman at War

by James Holland

  I paid a visit to the headquarters of 29th Armoured Division, having heard that Major Henri Le Grand was most anxious to come back to the Regiment. Henri was a Belgian regular army officer who had escaped from occupied Belgium to England from where he had been sent to the desert to learn about tank fighting; he was posted to my regiment with a view to forming a Belgian Armoured Brigade. He was a most delightful man with an expert knowledge of gunnery and in fact taught us all a great deal about gunnery while he fought with the Regiment in North Africa. My visit, however, was unsuccessful after a cordial interview with Brigadier Roscoe Harvey. I also made an effort to get Michael Gold back to the Regiment. He had gone to the 23rd Hussars, and I received a promise that, provided his commanding officer agreed and that the casualties among their senior officers were not serious, Division would recommend his transfer back to the Sherwood Rangers. I had a few words with Michael, who threatened that he would desert and return to the Regiment if Division did not agree.

  Between 19 and 23 June the Regiment remained in the line supporting various infantry units in a non-aggressive role and I had to attend various conferences in preparation for the attack on Fontenay and Rauray. The attack had been delayed owing to bad weather, which had held up the build-up of reserves and supplies from England. We were told, however, that the general picture was satisfactory in that since D-Day we had destroyed six German divisions and had depleted two more to half their original strength, and that all along the front we outnumbered the Hun by two to one.

  The bad weather Stanley refers to was in fact a massive storm that wrecked one of the two artificial harbours established along the coast and made a huge impact on the build-up of troops. By 22 June, Montgomery was three divisions short of what had been planned but he still needed to launch his next offensive to take Caen as soon as possible before yet more German reinforcements arrived – II SS Panzer Corps, for example, had now left Poland for Normandy and 1st SS Panzer Division had left Belgium on 17 June. The two-to-one advantage Stanley mentions was not enough: a tenet of military thinking was that an attack should not be launched without an advantage of at least three to one and preferably a higher ratio than that.

  Operation EPSOM, as the new offensive was codenamed, would push one armoured and two infantry divisions as well as two independent armoured brigades across the Odon valley south-west of Caen. Opposite them were the Panzer Lehr and 12th SS Panzer Divisions, both among the best the Germans had, but already battered by the fighting of the past fortnight.

  Six new officers joined the Regiment during this period, but with very limited experience of the Sherman tank and little knowledge of gunners and troop control.

  On 25 June the offensive started at daybreak. The Regiment supported 147 Infantry Brigade in capturing Fontenay, Rauray, and finally in occupying the Venres-Tessel Bretteville-Rauray road. Three days of most unpleasant fighting followed in most appalling misty and wet weather, which at times reduced visibility to nil. B Squadron started off by supporting the Royal Scots Fusiliers on the right and C Squadron the Duke of Wellingtons on the left; A Squadron remained in reserve. The fighting in Fontenay was most confused, and after the first day the Germans still held the southern end of the village, which was finally cleared on the following morning, 26 June – but not before John Semken, on turning a corner in the centre of the village, came face to face with a German Tiger tank trundling along the road. Fortunately he had an armour-piercing shell in the breech of his 75mm gun, which he released at 30 yards’ range and then followed up with another six shells in quick succession, which brewed up the Tiger. I happened to be following, talking to Brigade Headquarters on the wireless – in fact, John had just passed me, which was indeed most fortunate, otherwise the Tiger and I would have met and the result might have been very different.

  The attack on Rauray commenced in the late afternoon of 26 June when C Squadron led for the first 800 yards, after which A Squadron passed through it and met very strong opposition on the outskirts; however, the squadron had a most successful shoot and knocked out approximately 13 enemy tanks, of which Sergeant Dring bagged four. A Squadron completed the last part of the attack without infantry support over very open ground, and finally found itself on the outskirts of the village among a platoon of German infantry, well dug in and refusing to surrender. Ronnie Grellis, whose troop was in the lead, endeavoured to eliminate it by throwing hand-grenades from his tank, which had no effect, and eventually dismounted from his tank and made it surrender at the point of his revolver. In his excitement he forgot, as so often happened, to switch his wireless from the regimental external frequency to his tank internal communication, both of which work off the same set. As a result the whole Regiment heard the most thrilling and enthralling conversation between him and his crew and appreciated the shouts of encouragement from his crew as he dealt with the German infantry.

  The Rangers’ bag of 13 enemy tanks compares well with the number of British tanks knocked out at Villers-Bocage.

  On the morning of 27 June, B Squadron sent out two troops to investigate the position in Rauray, but unfortunately the Germans had brought up some tanks during the night, which were cleverly concealed in the trees at the edge of the village, and all the tanks of Ray Scott’s troop were knocked out. Sergeants Biddell and Green were both killed during the morning. By midday the village was eventually cleared and in it we found eight or nine German tanks, including Panthers, Tigers and Mark 4s, some brewed up and others damaged in some degree. One Tiger tank, hidden among some very thick scrub, appeared completely undamaged and we immediately tested it and found it in perfect running order. We soon found a crew from those dismounted who had lost their tanks in action, painted the Fox’s Mask, the brigade’s sign, most conspicuously on the front and rear, and attached it to Regimental Headquarters. Unfortunately, Corps Headquarters demanded our Tiger for despatch to England, as it was the first Tiger ever to be captured in Normandy.

  John Hanson-Lawson, B Squadron commander, tried to stalk a German tank that appeared to be ‘dead’; however a Mark 4 shooting from the flank brewed him up. John and Sergeant Crooks, his signal sergeant, were both wounded, but all the crew managed to bale out from the burning tank, and, thanks to Bill Wharton who dashed out on foot to help, the whole crew, including the wounded, were brought back to safety in an old farmhouse at which I had established Regimental Headquarters. Sergeant Crooks was in a bad condition, but when I spoke to him he smiled and told me that he suffered no pain; he died very shortly afterwards from shock and loss of blood. Crooks was another of the original Yeomen who had fought with the Regiment throughout. He was my troop farrier when I joined in October 1939, and commanded 3 Troop, C Squadron, and after we were mechanized, he made himself one of the most efficient signal NCOs in the Regiment. John Hanson-Lawson had to be evacuated, suffering from a nasty wound and shock. John had been at the university with my cousin Malcolm, and I knew him well before the war; it was through me that he joined the Inns of Court. When war broke out he went to Camberley with the mechanized squadrons while I went to Edinburgh with the mounted squadron, and we were both commissioned to different Regiments. We didn’t meet again until he joined us at Newmarket, when he and Michael Gold swapped regiments.

  The capture of Rauray and Fontenay had proved most costly. B Squadron could now only muster two officers and only seven out of their 16 tanks.

  One evening outside Rauray a very small black rabbit suddenly started up from under my feet and disappeared into the hedge. Thinking that we needed a regimental mascot I gave chase and plunged through the hedge in pursuit of the rabbit. Similar to so many Normandy hedges, this one was thick, strong and full of thorns of no mean size. With great difficulty I eventually caught the rabbit and emerged on the other side of the hedge perspiring profusely and in a somewhat tattered condition. Unfortunately I stumbled over a private from the Durham Light Infantry, slumbering in the ditch on the far side of the hedge, who awoke with an expression of sudden alarm, which soon turned to ast
onishment when he saw a very dishevelled lieutenant colonel grasping a struggling little black rabbit. He said nothing, but I am quite convinced that he thought the rabbit would be eaten. I walked away trying – without any success – to appear completely unconcerned and as dignified as the circumstances would permit. As I went back to the Regimental Headquarters tanks I passed through C Squadron tanks and, on enquiring for the squadron leader, Peter Seleri, was informed that he was asleep in his squadron scout car. I approached the scout car and on opening up the sliding roof I found Peter stretched at full length and fast asleep. (Incidentally, if the driver’s seat is removed a scout car is the most comfortable of all vehicles for sleep.) Obviously he was dog-tired and, fascinated, I listened to the usual whistling which emanates from the open mouth of a deep sleeper, and vaguely wondered what he was dreaming about. I then suddenly decided that I would have my revenge for the very recent rabbit episode, so I gently lowered the rabbit onto his chest. For quite a while the rabbit gazed with unflinching eyes at Peter, who must have gradually become conscious of the weight on his chest, for he suddenly opened his eyes and found himself regarding a little black rabbit within six inches of his nose. He received a horrid shock, and his first reaction was to rub his eyes vigorously as if to obliterate a most unreal and unpleasant vision. When the vision remained he made a frantic effort to grab the rabbit, which beat a hasty retreat to the end of the scout car. I then made my presence known to a somewhat embarrassed and very sleepy-eyed Peter, who made a valiant effort to salute and extricate his large body from the scout car all at the same time. I gently pushed him back again and told him to resume his sleep, which I had so rudely disturbed. In 15 seconds he was once again unconscious.

  Men of C Squadron, July 1944.

  On 3 July the Regiment was relieved by the County of London Yeomanry (part of the 4th Armoured Brigade), commanded by Sandy Cameron, a very great pre-war friend of mine and an ex-colleague in the Inns of Court. He had fought in the desert and collected a DSO and two MCs. It was good to see him again, but after showing him our dispositions and introducing him to the infantry commander I was extremely happy to hand the ‘Rauray front’ over to him. Before we withdrew, C Squadron took part in an attack with a company of the 10th DLI, to capture Quedeville, approximately 1000 yards south of Loury, which place was held by a party of fanatical Germans. One DLI platoon was cut off and was eventually extricated by the recce troop, which lost two tanks. Sergeant Nelson did some sterling work in bringing the two crews back under heavy mortar and machine-gun fire.

  EPSOM ended in stalemate. The British had not achieved the decisive breakthrough to Caen that they had hoped but, on the other hand, the German counter-attack launched on 29 June had been mauled. Although their line had held, it had cost the enemy precious reserves and had meant sacrificing the chance of any significant future counter-offensive.

  On 4 July the Regiment moved all squadrons to a most delightful orchard in the area of Chouain, and for the first time since we landed the whole Regiment, with all the B vehicles (i.e. supply vehicles) was assembled together. The knowledge that we should have a few days’ uninterrupted rest and time for sleep, maintenance and reorganization in pleasant surroundings brought us immense relief.

  Michael Gold rejoined the Regiment on 6 July and took command of B Squadron. He was delighted to be back again and we were equally pleased to see him. I am afraid that he found a very depleted squadron. He wrote these words after he had been around the whole squadron and asked me to include them in my personal war diary:

  When I resumed command of my old squadron in the Sherwood Rangers I found that many of my old friends had become casualties. I miss them all, and in particular I would like to pay tribute to the memory of four sergeants, three of whom were killed in action in June 1944 and one who died of wounds received on the beaches. They are Sergeants G. Green, L. Biddell, W. Crooks and W. Digby. The four of them were all great friends and were largely instrumental in creating within the squadron an exceptional spirit of friendship and loyalty. They were as proud of their squadron as we were of them. To say that they did their duty is an understatement. They were leaders and a magnificent example to us all. We were all close friends, a friendship proven by daily companionship, dangers shared and difficulties overcome. As friends we mourn them who cannot easily, if ever, be replaced but we shall for ever retain their memory and be eternally grateful for the ‘tradition’ which they left with the Regiment, and, if I may say so, particularly in B Squadron. We cannot measure what they did for England; we cannot add up the destruction they wrought on the enemy. Sufficient to say that throughout the desert campaign until the fall of Tunis and from D-Day in Europe until their death they were continually in the lead. May there never be wanting in this realm a succession of men of like spirit and discipline, imagination and valour, humble and unafraid.

  On the same day Myles Hildyard, who left the Regiment to join the staff of the 7th Armoured Division, paid us a visit. He told us that the higher command was very satisfied with the general position and that Monty had forecast that we should be in Paris by the end of the month.

  We were shocked to hear that Henri Le Grand had been killed while fighting with the 23rd Hussars. Apparently he had sought permission, which was granted, to borrow a troop to eliminate an anti-tank gun; as he was leading the troop his tank was brewed up and he was instantly killed. I heard afterwards that he had made a very great reputation for himself during the time that he had spent with the British Army. He was a most unassuming man with a cheerful and lovely disposition.

  Geoffrey Makins, a young major from the Royals, joined the Regiment and took command of A Squadron.

  On the first evening of our rest period I had dined with B Squadron officers, under a tent they carried in one of the echelon vehicles. We had most sumptuous fare, thanks to the local inhabitants, who were only too willing to barter their local farm produce for bully beef. The Camembert cheese and local cider were delicious.

  The usual conferences and order groups at Brigade Headquarters started again immediately for the next attack – known as Maoriz – and on the afternoon of 10 July the Regiment moved to a concentration area in Folliot. From the 11th to the 13th all three squadrons were involved in very heavy fighting in the usual thickly enclosed country, supporting 70 Brigade and 231 Brigade of the 50th Division, which we had not encountered since the invasion. Both these brigades expressed their delight at being with us again, and stated quite firmly that the 8th Armoured Brigade and especially the Sherwood Rangers had given them better support than other armour with which they had fought. This operation was part of a full-scale attack along the whole front to make a break-out and our immediate objective was the line of the Juvigny–Hottot–Landes road and the high ground 400 yards due south.

  The objectives were eventually taken, but with the usual casualties, the fighting in Hottot proving exceptionally unpleasant.

  This action had cost the Regiment six crew commanders – Sergeant Baker, Corporal Footit and Geoffrey Makins (his first action with the Regiment) killed, and Michael Howden, Corporal Deane and Corporal Read wounded. Since we landed, 40 tank commanders from the Regiment had been either killed or wounded.

  The casualties were horrendous. In an armoured regiment there were just under 700 men, of which about 210 made up the three main squadrons of around 50 tanks in all, each with their own commander. In other words, by mid-July, just six weeks after landing, the Sherwood Rangers had lost 80 per cent of their tank commanders. The trouble was that the tank commanders had to be in the turret and for much of the time had to stick their heads above the parapet, where they were very vulnerable to snipers and shellfire. Replacing them effectively was proving increasingly difficult.

  The infantry had also suffered heavy casualties during this action and was badly shaken. The commanding officer of the Hampshires was killed and the commanding officer of the Devons wounded.

  On 14 July we pulled out of the line again and I tried to organize a cad
re class for junior NCOs to train prospective crew commanders. Tony Gauntley undertook to do this and carried out an intensive training, but only for a very limited period as on the 17th we moved into the line again.

  During these few days of rest we had an exceptional piece of bad luck. The enemy was trying to shell some guns close to our leaguer area and a stray shell landed among B Squadron tanks, mortally wounding Sergeant Hardy, another experienced tank commander.

  16

  Normandy Break-out

  The ‘Big Three’, Normandy, July 1944: General Graham of 50 Division, General Horrocks, XXX Corps Commander, and General Thomas of 43 Division.

  SLOWLY BUT SURELY the bitter and attritional battle for Normandy was swinging the Allies’ way. On 27 June, the garrison at Cherbourg had surrendered, as did, three days later, the last of the German troops in the Cotentin peninsula. On 8 July, Montgomery began his latest drive for Caen, which was preceded by the carpet-bombing of the city – 90 per cent of the old medieval town was destroyed. Two days later, what remained of the city was finally in Allied hands. Montgomery now prepared for his latest offensive, Operation GOODWOOD, a thrust south and south-east of Caen, while the Americans prepared for Operation COBRA, their attempt to break out of the bridgehead to the west.