Derek Colls, Chris Sidgewick and Ian McKay were even more worried, and had made up their minds that we had either been bumped off or kept prisoners; they were discussing a plan of action. Ian had suggested sending a tank with its guns traversed to the rear, indicating a temporary truce, in order to ascertain our whereabouts.
I told them all exactly what had happened and we discussed arrangements about the formal surrender and wondered if, in view of the fact that we had agreed that they should march with their arms, we should provide some kind of a guard of honour. I seemed to recall something similar when the Duke of Aosta surrendered his garrison. However, we decided that Derek Colls and I should be at the rendezvous at 6 o’clock to receive their formal surrender, but we took the precaution of having B Squadron tanks at close call, with Derek’s company of infantry and Chris Sidgewick’s guns.
At 6.30 in the evening there was still no sign of the German colonel or his men, and when suddenly we heard Spandau fire, I became instantly alarmed that the garrison was attempting a breakout. At that moment Hylda Young, our medical officer, appeared with his ambulance and was just about to enter the village to collect the wounded. I signalled him to stop and asked him to ascertain what was happening in the village. When he arrived at the headquarters he met the German adjutant and asked him the reason for the shooting, but the adjutant professed complete ignorance. Hylda then suggested he should return to me in the ambulance, while he remained at the headquarters. This was agreed and the adjutant entered the ambulance, and Hylda proceeded into the headquarters. Suddenly the shooting increased in intensity and was combined with mortar fire and, as a result, the adjutant leaped from the ambulance and started running in the direction of the firing. Thereupon Hylda raced back to the ambulance and drove full speed back to me. He told me he had seen no signs of any Germans in the village, except for the adjutant, and that there appeared to be a small battle taking place at the far side of the village.
I forthwith called for Bill Wharton’s troop and we entered the village, expecting to be shot up at any moment, but instead we were greeted by a frantically excited and gesticulating German adjutant, from whom we learned that the colonel and his men had been fired on as they were leaving the village on the far side and they had been compelled to return the fire.
We all rushed through the village to find the Germans taking cover in the ditches on the side of the road from the odd mortar shell that was falling. We raced up the road and through the German column and eventually met a patrol belonging to the Green Howards via which we sent an urgent message to cease firing. We eventually discovered that the Green Howards, moving north on a parallel axis 20 miles away, had received information about the Pierre garrison from the locals and had despatched a company to obtain information; they had suddenly come face to face with a large German column marching down the road, carrying its arms, led by a colonel on a white horse and had opened fire. I was most relieved to hear that only one German had been wounded.
I found the German colonel, a very worried man, and explained the mistake but asked him why he was marching out of the north end of the town instead of to the prearranged rendezvous. After consulting the map we discovered that the railway crossed the road in two separate places outside the village, which his adjutant had confused, and they were marching to the wrong crossing.
In the meantime the whole column had re-formed on some open ground and I asked the colonel to explain this unfortunate situation to his men, which he readily agreed to do. In return, he requested that his men should be allowed to break their arms before being marched off, which, in view of what had happened, I allowed.
The German RSM called the men to attention and the colonel addressed them for about a quarter of an hour, explaining what had happened, telling them that he had made an honourable surrender, and bidding them farewell. When he had finished he nodded to the RSM, who gave the order to break their arms, by crashing the butts of their rifles on the ground, after which each man raised his right hand and roared, ‘Sieg Heil,’ three times. I was most impressed with their discipline.
The colonel then turned to me, handed over his revolver and signalled to his orderly to hand over his white charger. So ended the surrender of the St Pierre garrison.
Most reluctantly I gave the white charger, a beautiful animal, to one of the local farmers, who was a prominent member of the Maquis, and the revolver to the owner of the house in Renaix where B Squadron had established its headquarters. He was most thrilled, as he was a gunsmith by trade and promised to display the revolver, with a suitably engraved plaque, in his shop window.
The leader of the Maquis came to see me that evening and demanded that I should hand over eight Germans, including the colonel and his adjutant, for those of their number whom the Germans had shot. I explained that such a request could not be granted, but agreed to write a full report, including statements, signed by themselves, a copy of which they retained, which would be available for investigation after the war.
Postcard photograph of a shop in Renaix.
We left the town of Renaix on the following day, 7 September, after a most pleasant but short stay and the whole town turned out to say farewell. I think they were sorry to see us go. We travelled 60 miles, passing through Voorde, Ninove and finally Brussels, which had very recently been liberated.
I did not relish the idea of leading a whole armoured regimental group, with all the supply vehicles, through Brussels and on to the Louvain road, so I despatched Michael Gold on ahead to recce the way through and arranged to meet him on the outskirts of the city. I chose him because of his knowledge of French, but in the haste of the moment forgot his amazing capacity for making friends, and his fatal charm to members of the opposite sex. As soon as we arrived on the outskirts of Brussels we found that the city people were celebrating to the utmost of their capacity. Never have I seen such a fantastic and sincere demonstration of complete joy. Our progress through the streets was, somewhat naturally, excessively slow, as each tank and vehicle was swarming with civilians, and, somewhat naturally also, there was no sign of Michael Gold. Stephen and I led the column in a Jeep swamped with flowers, fruit, food and wine, thrown in by the delirious Belgians, and, after selecting a guide from the numerous civilian volunteers, we gradually made our way through the city to the Louvain road. That day we travelled 60 miles and spent the night at Aarschot a few miles north of Brussels. Michael Gold turned up the next morning full of apologies at having lost his way.
We spent 8 and 9 September on maintenance, which the tanks badly needed. We still had some of the original tanks we had landed on D-Day, some of which registered over 2000 miles on the mileometer.
Michael suggested that we should pay a visit to Brussels and have some dinner there, but I pointed out that as none of us had any Belgian currency, in fact no money at all, I did not quite see how we should get anything to eat. I was told not to worry and that he would guarantee food, so he, Arthur Warburton and I set off in the Jeep.
Michael drove straight up to the Carlton restaurant and parked outside. He led the way to the door and I kept wondering how on earth we should eat without money. As we entered Michael stood aside to allow two very lovely Belgian girls to pass, followed by their escorts. As they entered he gave each of them in turn a slight bow and a winning smile. That, of course, provided us with a most excellent dinner. The food was superb, the wine excellent, and we had a most delightful evening.
After the meal they insisted that we should return to their homes, where we drank more champagne. We finally left at two o’clock next morning, after being kept waiting by Arthur, who, just as we were about to leave, returned to the house on the excuse that he had left his gloves in the drawing room. It took him 20 minutes to find his gloves, assisted by one of our beautiful hostesses.
19
Gheel and MARKET GARDEN
The citation for Stanley’s Distinguished Service Order.
THE FOLLOWING THREE DAYS, 10, 11 and 12 September, the Regiment
experienced some of the bitterest fighting of the whole war, which cost us very heavy casualties.
I received orders early in the morning of the 10th via a liaison officer from 50th Division to support 231 Brigade, which was passing through a bridgehead over the Albert Canal made by 151 Brigade. On reaching the canal we discovered that the bridgehead was far from secure and that 151 Brigade was being heavily counter-attacked with tanks and infantry, so the Regiment was immediately ordered into the bridgehead with 151 Brigade. The brigadier had crossed the canal and established his headquarters within the small perimeter, and was even so optimistic as to have brought his caravan. Before bringing the Regiment up I was discussing a plan of action with him when his intelligence officer approached and said, ‘I think I should tell you, sir, that there are two enemy tanks in a sunken lane 300 yards to our left flank. If you watch carefully you can see them and it is quite easy to hear them.’
‘For God’s sake,’ exclaimed the brigadier, ‘bring your tanks up quickly.’
A certain confusion ensued as the brigadier’s caravan and other elements of his headquarters went hurtling back over the canal, followed by machine-gun bullets from the tanks.
C Squadron arrived first in the bridgehead and, supporting the 6th DLI, temporarily restored the situation and extended the bridgehead by capturing the village of Gheel. B Squadron pushed forward to the north-west corner of the bridgehead with the 9th DLI, and was violently counter-attacked during the afternoon, but withstood the attack. Michael Gold was wounded in the head as he was travelling in his scout car. He was fortunate not to be killed when the bullet grazed his eye, which I am afraid he lost. The ammunition position became rather serious for the tanks in Gheel, which for a considerable time were cut off, as the Germans had cut the road. However, Sergeant Stanton made a bold dash in the ARV and relieved the situation.
The opposing Germans were youthful fanatics and when night fell we plainly heard them shouting in English, ‘We are prepared to die for Hitler, we intend to die for Hitler.’ At night they made a clever counterattack. Their infantry infiltrated our lines and let off flares, which completely illuminated our tanks, making them an easy target for their tanks, which had crept up. We spent a most uncomfortable night.
The following day the reserve company of the infantry was attacked by a whole German company, which had been able to infiltrate during the night, owing to our infantry being so thin on the ground. John Mann, captain in B Squadron, was shot dead by a sniper as he was sitting in his tank at a crossroads and his tank was brewed up. The rest of the squadron tanks supporting the reserve company caught the attacking infantry in the open and broke up the attack. The whole bridgehead consisted of a mass of sunken lanes and thick orchards, which made infiltration comparatively easy.
Colin Thompson, B Squadron second-in-command, was shot up by an enemy tank and received a nasty wound in the leg.
During the afternoon of the 11th, a corporal from a machine-gun section, which was close to my tank, came across and said, ‘I should just like to confirm, sir, that that there tank is one of yours.’
I walked across to where he was standing and saw, somewhat to my consternation, a German Panther very slowly creeping down a lane 300 yards to our immediate front.
Fortunately the gun was pointing over its rear and the commander was looking backwards, anticipating trouble from behind. I couldn’t engage from where Robin Hood (my tank) was positioned, and I didn’t want to disclose our position by starting up the tank’s engine, so I rushed across to Dick Holman and Sergeant Charity, whose tank was close at hand, and was relieved to find that from where they were they could possibly engage. Their tank was also in a sunken lane and from their position it was possible to obtain a comparatively clear view of a short distance of lane along which the Panther was bound to pass should it continue in the same direction. I stood on the back of his tank while Sergeant Charity traversed his gun to cover the lane, and we waited breathlessly for the Panther, which we could hear quite plainly, to appear, praying that its gun still pointed to the rear. We suddenly saw it and Sergeant Charity let fly with his first shot, which was high and missed. The Panther immediately halted, and I saw the gun traverse quickly around towards us. Sergeant Charity fired again and once more he was too high; by this time the gun of the Panther appeared to be pointing directly at me. I offered up a silent prayer that the Lord God would improve the accuracy of Sergeant Charity’s gunner, and that we shouldn’t have a misfire. I heard his repeat order: ‘Reload, drop fifty.’
‘On,’ said the gunner.
‘Fire,’ shouted Sergeant Charity.
I put my fingers in my ears to avoid the explosion, which rocked the tank forward, and gave a shout of delight when I saw that the armour-piercing shell had struck and entered the turret of the Panther. He followed with three more shots in quick succession, all of which found their mark and the last of which set the Panther on fire.
Some of the German crew baled out and were immediately engaged by the tank machine-gun and the infantry machine-gun corporal, who had originally spotted the Panther.
Those three days’ fighting had cost the Regiment 46 casualties, 50 per cent of which were fatal. At that time I suppose each squadron averaged 10 tanks, making a total of 32 tanks in the Regiment manned by 160 men. A large proportion of the casualties consisted of tank commanders and officers, including Captain John Mann and Lieutenant Cooke killed and Michael Gold, Colin Thompson and Jimmy McWilliam wounded. The Regiment had 11 tanks knocked out and two damaged, which was the heaviest number of tank casualties in one battle that the Regiment had suffered since the Battle of Wadi Zem Zem in the desert. Sergeant Nesling fought magnificently throughout and was afterwards awarded the DCM for his outstanding gallantry.
With the number of men in tanks below 200, the loss of 46 represented almost a third of the Regiment’s fighting power. As Stuart Hills pointed out, almost every tank suffered a direct hit at some point – and whether any of the crew managed to clamber out alive was largely a matter of luck. ‘It was crazy, really,’ says John Semken, whose nerves were beginning to suffer by this time. ‘I always used to say we were living on borrowed time.’
The fighting at Gheel was followed by three pleasant days’ rest at Bourg-Léopold, where once again we met our old friends, the Staffordshire Yeomanry, who were part of the 8th Armoured Brigade in North Africa. Michael Farquhar commanded the Regiment and Lawrence Biddle was his second-in-command. Michael commanded the Crusader Squadron of the Staffordshire Yeomanry when I commanded the Sherwood Rangers’ Crusader Squadron. On D-Day plus 10 they had returned to England to be trained for DD tanks for the crossing of the Rhine. We had a most pleasant party at Brigade Headquarters and consumed some delicious wine, which the brigadier had had presented to him.
I received a letter from Michael Gold, written in hospital in Brussels. He was very cheerful in spite of having had his eye removed and told me that our Belgian friends who had entertained us had shown him great kindness bringing so much champagne to the hospital that a continuous stream of wine kept flowing from his empty eye socket.
I was notified by Brigade that at long last certain decorations had come through, including MCs for John Semken, A Squadron commander, Ian Greenaway, who lost a leg in Normandy, John Mann, who was killed a few days previously at the Battle of Gheel and MMs for Sergeant Dring (a bar), Sergeant Saunders, Sergeant Nelson and Sergeant Birch. All so thoroughly deserved.
I had to attend a conference at Corps Headquarters where General Horrocks, the corps commander, gave us the present dispositions and future plans. He paid a great deal of tribute to 43rd Division and 50th Division and a certain amount to 11th Armoured and Guards Armoured, but I think he might have made mention of the 8th Armoured Brigade, without whom neither 43rd nor 50th Divisions would have got so far. The next operation, he told us, was to make a break-out through the bridgehead over the Escault Canal and drive north to link up in Holland with the American and British airborne divisions, which were d
ropping at Arnhem and Nijmegen. By doing this it was hoped to cut off all the German forces west of the axis and to prevent supplies being sent from Germany to the flying-bomb sites situated on the coast. The Guards Armoured Brigade was to lead, followed by two infantry divisions and the 8th Armoured Brigade. The Regiment was to be detached from the remainder of the brigade and to operate in a picketing role, with one squadron of Royals, a detachment of RASC and light ack-ack and Field Ambulance, with our usual company of 12/60th and battery of Essex Yeomanry under command. I liked the idea of this independent command. According to how the operation went, we should then pass under command of the 82nd American Airborne Division.
This was Operation MARKET GARDEN, hastily first devised when 21st Army Group was still in rapid pursuit and it was felt that the enemy was all but finished. The idea was to capture key bridges at Eindhoven, Nijmegen and Arnhem using airborne forces, who would then be hurriedly reinforced by XXX Corps driving a 60-mile corridor to join them. This would offer a back-door route across the Rhine and into Germany. The three bridges had to be taken intact and XXX Corps’ drive north to stick to a very, very tight schedule before the airborne forces ran out of ammunition and supplies. If any single part of the plan went awry, the whole operation was doomed to failure. D-Day had been months in the planning, yet MARKET GARDEN, despite involving an entire armoured corps, three airborne divisions and a further airborne brigade, as well as a vast air armada, took just seven days from being given the go-ahead to its launch.
As we found practically the whole way across Holland, tanks were forced to keep to the road owing to the highly cultivated lands and irrigation schemes throughout the country. As a result the Guards had the first eight of their tanks knocked out, as they could not leave the road, which was covered by two battalions of SS, who fought desperately and made their progress extremely slow, but they contacted the American parachutists the following day at Eindhoven, six miles north of the bridgehead.
An Englishman at War Page 43