by Mark Zuehlke
With each passing day, the number of serviceable Luftwaffe and Italian aircraft diminished as the Allies intensified their bombing of Sicilian airfields. One after the other, most of the island’s airfields were so damaged that soon only two were considered fully operational.
By July 9, 323 German aircraft were declared destroyed in the Italian theatre, along with 105 Italian. The Allies, flying a total of 42,227 sorties between mid-May and the invasion, lost 250 aircraft—mostly brought down by anti-aircraft fire while operating over hostile territory.
Not only Sicilian airfields but also transportation hubs in cities and towns back of the invasion beaches were heavily bombed. There was little in the way of surgical precision about the bombing raids, many being carried out at night against blacked-out targets. Although massive strategic destruction was inflicted, it came at the price of many civilian casualties. Palermo was badly damaged, its rail and road transportation networks all but destroyed.29 Similar punishment was meted out to Catania, and it soon became an almost deserted city, its streets torn up and blocked with debris from destroyed buildings. The sewage system ceased functioning entirely, and water and electrical supply was regularly disrupted for long periods. Little in the way of food was able to reach the city because the island’s rail system had been smashed. There were too few trucks to move supplies on roads that were increasingly hazardous to travel on because of marauding Allied fighters and fighter bombers. Incompetence by the Fascist authorities exacerbated matters. An insufficient number of air-raid shelters had been constructed, and many of these were structurally unsound. As the bombings intensified, attempts to force civilians to clear roads to enable the movement of military transport only drove people into hiding. Before the invasion date, most of Catania’s citizens had fled up the slopes of Mount Etna to find refuge in caves or woods. Catania’s suffering was not unusual. In Siracusa, those who opted not to flee crowded into the ancient Christian catacombs of San Giovanni.30
While brutally executed, the Allied bombing yielded the desired effect. By July 9, the Luftwaffe and Italian air forces were largely paralyzed. The Italian navy cowered in its badly damaged ports. And the defenders on Sicily were desperately short of supplies and denied full freedom of movement along the island’s interior roads and rail systems, most of which had been badly hammered. Military and civilian morale was desperately low.
By midday, the Canadian Fast Assault Convoy stood seventy miles south of Malta. Aboard Hilary, Captain Sesia looked about at “a veritable armada of warships, merchantmen and transports of every description and size.”31 Even to the east of his position the sea teemed with ships, for the British convoy coming from that direction had hugged the African coast until it stood just off Tripoli before heading directly towards Sicily. By noon, this convoy carrying the British 5th and 50th Divisions plus the 231st Infantry Brigade joined the others in “converging as if along the supporting strands of some huge spider’s web upon Malta.”32
Sailing in this convoy were four of Canada’s Landing Craft Flotillas—the 55th and 61st Landing Craft, Assault (LCA) and the 80th and 88th Landing Craft, Mechanized (LCM). The LCA flotillas were equipped with the forty-one-foot-long wooden boats capable of carrying thirty men to a beach and unloading them off the front by dropping a ramp that the troops then stormed down. The LCM flotillas, meanwhile, were outfitted with vessels also mounting a landing ramp on the bow, but their fifty-foot steel hulls were better designed for carrying vehicles and equipment than men.33 By 1943, LCMs were rarely used for landing troops. Instead, they each generally carried a single tank. Aboard the four flotillas were twenty-four officers and 376 ratings, all Canadians. Most were seasoned veterans of combined operations, having landed assault troops at Bruneval, St-Nazaire, Dieppe, North Africa, and in various commando cross-channel raids. The two LCA flotillas were tasked with landing the 231st Infantry Brigade’s assault waves, while the two LCM flotillas would ferry vehicles and supplies on to British-captured beaches near Siracusa.34
The eastern convoy that these Canadian vessels were part of—code-named “Force A”—had come alongside the fast convoy at noon. Steaming well ahead of Hilary, but being quickly overtaken by the fast-running ships, was the Canadian slow convoy. As these convoys came together, Sesia saw the naval escorts that had guarded them during the voyage pull away, to be immediately replaced by four cruisers and six destroyers tasked with providing close support during the landings. As the fast convoy bore past the slow convoy, five ships from the latter sped up to join it. Had St. Essylt and City of Venice not been lost, they would also have contributed their vital stores, vehicles, and troops to the strength of the initial landing force. The rest of the slow convoy, which would remain well back until the stores and men aboard were required, quickly faded from view.35
Force A soon began drawing away from the fast convoy, as it veered back on a more easterly course to pass Malta on that flank while the Canadians went around to the west of the island. Then both began converging again, joined by two convoys composed of Landing Ship, Infantry (Medium) (LSI); Landing Craft, Tank (LCT); and Landing Ship, Tank (LST) vessels that had sailed out of Sfax on the Tunisian coast with the rest of British Eighth Army’s divisions aboard. These vessels came up the middle between Force A and the fast convoy. As the Canadians cut close by the island of Gozo, the three convoys carrying the U.S. Seventh Army came alongside on the left. The American ships arrowed straight for their beaches, while the Canadians turned to the right and made for the western side of Pachino peninsula.36
Soon after this course change, the fast convoy and all the other Allied ships sailed into an unexpected gale whose large waves pitched smaller craft such as the LCMs, LSIs, LCTs, and LSTs badly about. But the pace of the ships never slackened. “From now on anything may happen to us,” Sesia wrote. “The Italian fleet is still in Taranto and as far as we know shows no sign of moving. Can anyone imagine a similar threat against Britain without so much as a trawler coming out to intercept it? We are well within aircraft range, yet there has been little indication that the enemy suspects our presence, let alone intends to come out and attack us.”37
On Hilary’s bridge, Rear Admiral Vian was unconcerned about the threat of Italian navy or Axis aircraft. Instead he stared at an intelligence signal reporting that a highly placed source inside the Italian military had leaked information that the anchor point for the Canadian convoy was “the centre of an extensive minefield which could be detonated electrically by the Headquarters of the enemy forces in the [Sicilian] capital city of Enna.” Intelligence analysts warned that the source was generally regarded as unreliable.
Still, Vian faced a conundrum: should he sail into the middle of a possible minefield that, if detonated, could destroy the Canadian invasion force before it even reached the beach? Deciding he could not make this decision alone, Vian asked Simonds to come up from the operations room for a conference. Simonds sent Kitching instead, who carried the intelligence message back to the operations room. “Sir,” Kitching said, “the Admiral asks what you think we should do.” Simonds read the message and handed it back to Kitching. “Tell the Admiral that if I were he I would pay no attention to it.” Vian smiled at this news. “Please give my compliments to General Simonds,” he told Kitching, “and tell him from me that he would make an excellent admiral.”38
If Simonds and Vian were prepared to gamble against the existence of an Italian minefield, they were less willing to defy Mother Nature. As the seas continued to roughen, signals passed back and forth among the Allied ships and headquarters in North Africa about the possibility that the landings would have to be delayed while the fleet waited out the storm. Sesia saw Simonds standing on the deck “gazing anxiously at the sky and the sea. He was alone and seemed extremely thoughtful.” But at 2100 hours, the waves and wind subsided somewhat and word spread that the strike was on. “This is the final lap,” Sesia thought. “At 0245 hours the . . . 1st [Canadian Division] will take part in the greatest combined operation yet mou
nted, and we shall invade Sicily.”39
PART TWO
FIRST BLOODING
[5]
The Actuality of War
AT 1630 HOURS on July 9, the three battalions of 2nd Canadian Infantry Brigade assembled at assigned boat stations aboard their respective transport ships to hear Brigadier Chris Vokes’s Order of the Day. “Actions speak louder than words! Go in and get the bastards,” it read. “The words were typical of our [brigadier],” the Princess Patricia’s Canadian Light Infantry war diarist recorded, adding that “a roaring cheer greeted them.”1
The thirty-nine-year-old Vokes had a reputation as a rough-talking hard charger. His temper was as fiery as the red of his hair and walrus-style moustache. Major Thomas de Faye, whose Saskatoon Light Infantry company provided 2 CIB’s heavy weapons support, considered him a “tough old bird, great boxer, tall, wide, and built like a bulldog, which also summed up his personality.”2
Vokes believed a commander’s duty to his troops was “to inspire their confidence and get the best out of them.”3 Lieutenant Colonel Bert Hoffmeister, who had taken over the Seaforths from Vokes, believed the brigadier was both competent and able to win the trust of soldiers. Using coarse, direct language when talking to the men was a key ingredient in his command style, but he was equally blunt with officers.4
On June 28, just before the fast convoy sailed from Britain, Vokes had gone to each of the brigade’s three ships to deliver the same rousing speech. The gist, so far as Seaforth Highlander of Canada’s Padre Roy Durnford could discern, was that the brigade was expected to be the best there was and that any Germans met were to be “dealt with harshly.”5 Durnford realized that the brigadier’s words were “designed to instill a certain fearsomeness into the character of his men. It was intensely blood-thirsty in its sentiment, and doubtless, from a military point of view, a much needed injection. For such a man as myself the speech was welcomed only for its brevity,” the padre confided to his diary. “I find something repulsive in this business of teaching men to hate their fellows, and in rousing blood-lust in them. I maintain that a man can fight without bitterness. In any case it seems a poor sort of business to have to inculcate hatred by artificial means.”6
Vokes would have vehemently disagreed. Soldiers needed to be bloodthirsty, and it was an attribute he sought to instill at every possible opportunity. On the morning of July 4, Vokes had circulated a personal message through the brigade. It read:1. On the eve of our baptism by fire, for which we have all trained so hard and so long, I wish to issue the creed which will govern all of us throughout this and any subsequent campaign.
Firstly—We are free men fighting for a just cause. Therefore, we are invincible.
Secondly—We will seek out and destroy the enemy wherever he may be found.
Thirdly—We must be hard and ruthless; we must never relax or relent until the victory is ours.
Fourthly—We must never ask for quarter. Therefore, it will be our prerogative to grant it.
Fifthly—Only cowards surrender.
2. I am presenting each Unit of the Bde, herewith, a copy of the 2nd Bde Pennant to be known as the “GEORGE BAKER.” We will carry them with us through ITALY and GERMANY.
3. And, finally, good luck—and good scalping—to you, one and all.7
While Vokes had time to rally his troops before the invasion, his counterpart at 1st Canadian Infantry Brigade, Brigadier Howard Graham, was largely preoccupied with the change forced upon his landing plans by the decision to use DUKW amphibious trucks to move three of his four assault companies from the sandbar to the beach. Graham disliked the idea. The DUKW had no armour to protect the troops. That the men would have to first transfer from the transports to LCTS and then clamber into vehicles they had never even seen before ensured the brigade would be late heading for the beach. This meant that 2 CIB on the left and the British 231st Brigade on the right would land without his brigade in the middle, leaving both of these units exposed to the possibility of deadly flanking fire and counterattacks. During a meeting held aboard Hilary, Graham urged Major General Guy Simonds and Rear Admiral Sir Philip Vian to scrap the DUKW scheme and instead allow the three companies of his brigade that would fetch up on the sandbar to go in behind 2 CIB. Once his companies passed the sandbar, their LCAS could turn sharply and race to line up with their assigned beach sectors. While that would still mean a delay in 1 CIB hitting the beach, it would be less than if they went with the DUKW plan.
Graham had devised this idea in concert with the captain of his headquarters’ ship, Captain Andrew Gray of Glengyle, and both men pressed their respective superiors hard for agreement. Vian conceded that every objection raised was valid and their alternative plan was better. But it had been xxx Corps staff who instructed the use of the DUKWS, and there was neither the time nor the means to go about getting their approval to scrap the scheme. Graham kept waiting for Simonds to come to his aid, but the divisional commander offered no comment. DUKWS it would be, Vian finally declared, and there was nothing further that Graham and Gray could do. As the meeting broke up, Graham waited for Simonds to come over and offer commiseration, but “there was not a word of sympathy or support.”
Back aboard Glengyle, Graham holed up in his cabin and started producing a concise précis that could be sent by lamp to Royal Canadian Regiment’s Lieutenant Colonel Ralph Crowe aboard Marnix van St. Aldegonde to notify him that the battalion’s two assault companies would land on DUKWS. The other assaulting battalion, the Hastings and Prince Edward Regiment, was aboard Glengyle. So he was able to brief its Lieutenant Colonel Bruce Sutcliffe personally on the change that affected only one of his assault companies—the other being able to skirt past the sandbar for an unimpeded run to the beach. Neither man questioned the order, but Graham chalked that up to the fact that the three of them knew each other well. Before his promotion to brigadier, Graham had commanded the Hasty Ps—Crowe had been one of Graham’s company commanders and Sutcliffe his second-in-command. 8
AS NIGHT DESCENDED around the Canadian Fast Assault Convoy, thousands of soldiers faced the prospect that this might be their last night on earth. Yet there seemed little visible apprehension. The gale had little effect on the infantrymen aboard most of the large transports. In Llangibby Castle, the men were fed a hot meal and then many went up on deck to await the order to get ready. Captain Donald Brain, whose ‘B’ Company would be one of the two in the battalion’s leading wave, saw that the “night was beautifully clear and one could make out quite clearly the other ships of the convoy in the moonlight. From the decks we could watch bombing on shore and the sparks as A.A. shells burst above the target areas . . . fully half the men were out watching the display, while on the mess-decks men were making final adjustments to the fit and comfort of their equipment. All were confident and cheerful and I can honestly say that I did not meet one man who showed conscious signs of nerves. In one corner, the inevitable ‘crap’ game was in full swing.”9
Also in full swing was a songfest in another corner, with Corporal Felix Carriere and a few other men providing musical accompaniment. “I played a guitar until my fingers were bleeding and we sang songs until silence was demanded.”10 The PPCLI officers had also got into the swing of things, gathering in the dining saloon for coffee and sandwiches at about 2300 hours and launching into a “sing-song . . . Every song in the repertoire—clean and unclean—was sung, and even college yells were hooted out. Then came the time to break up and dress for the occasion. From that time on, everything functioned as smoothly as any drill parade.”11
At 0048 hours on July 10, Hilary dropped anchor about seven miles off the Sicilian coast. Around her the other ships followed suit. This was the release point from which the assault craft would head for the beach. There was no sign of the reported minefield. But the seas had worsened again, the gale returning to fierce life. Even as the anchor chains rattled down, the LCAS aboard the big transports, such as Circassia and Llangibby Castle, were being loaded with the first
assault wave.12
The time for planning was over, the time for execution imminent. On paper, British Eighth Army’s landings were straightforward. Lieutenant Colonel George Kitching, 1st Canadian Division’s general staff officer, had summarized everything clearly in a surprisingly brief operational order at the beginning of June, and none of the overarching details had changed. On the far right, the XIII Corps, under Lieutenant General Miles Dempsey, would land on several beaches along a ten-mile stretch of coast south of Siracusa that extended to the village of Avola. The amphibious assault would be preceded by glider-borne paratroops of 1st Airlanding Brigade from 1st Airborne Division, making night landings inland to block enemy attempts to reinforce the coastal defence forces. The initial primary objective of XIII Corps was to seize Siracusa port, which was small but vital to Allied plans. xxx Corps, including 1st Division, would at the same time be assaulting Pachino peninsula, while to the left of Eighth Army, the U.S. II Corps of Seventh Army would land on a long swath of south coastal beaches concentrated on Gela. The immediate American task was to seize airfields at Gela, Biscari, and Comiso. Helping in this task would be American paratroops from 82nd Airborne Division, which were to drop several miles inland of the coastal Gela directly in front of the village of Ponte Olivo. Here they would establish blocking positions. xxx Corps would strike the peninsula from both flanks and head-on, with 231st Infantry Brigade Group landing on the eastern coast, 51st Highland Division the tip, and 1st Canadian Infantry Division the western coast. Because a gap of about twenty-five miles separated the Canadians from the Americans, Nos. 40 and 41 commandos of the British Special Service Brigade would land on the far western side of the bay, in which Bark West lay, to knock out coastal defence batteries there and then move to meet the Canadians advancing from the beach.