by Mark Zuehlke
Although the divisions charged with denying Allied use of Antwerp’s port were weak in numbers and quality, the combination of defensible terrain and limited numbers that First Canadian Army could put into the field made them a formidable opponent. Repeatedly, German divisions had shown themselves capable of rapidly rising from the ashes to offer another stubborn fight. In Normandy, they had proven masters of the defensive battle, and it was clear they would bring this skill to the forthcoming struggle.
JUST HOW POTENT an opponent the Germans remained was rammed home to the battalions of 6th Canadian Infantry Brigade on September 24 during an attempt to force a crossing of the Antwerp– Turnhout Canal in front of Lochtenberg, about seven miles northeast of Antwerp. All the bridges here had been demolished, and reconnaissance patrols reported the canal line heavily defended. Intelligence reports stated that the Germans were set on “retaining as long as possible the landward approaches to Beveland,” and the canal provided the best remaining defensive position. Consequently, “it was apparent that a well-prepared assault would be necessary.”
The plan called for the Calgary Highlanders, immediately southwest of 6 CIB, to put in a feint attack just before dawn.10 Once the feint drew off some of the defenders facing its portion of the line, Les Fusiliers Mont-Royal would cross in assault boats to the right of a blown bridge in front of Lochtenberg, while the South Saskatchewan Regiment did the same on its left. Each battalion would be supplied with six folding assault boats that could carry eighteen men each. Plentiful fire support would be provided by the 5th and 6th Canadian Field Regiments and two platoons of heavy mortars. Once the bridgehead was established, the engineers would throw a bridge over. A squadron of 8th Canadian Reconnaissance Regiment (14th Canadian Hussars) would then precede the Queen’s Own Cameron Highlanders of Canada in a two-and-a-half-mile drive out of the bridgehead to Kamp van Brasschaat—a former Belgian military base where the Germans were believed to have a headquarters. The crossing was set for 0700 hours.11
It was a dirty morning, heavily overcast with sporadic showers and dense fog at ground level. Major Armand Brochu’s ‘C’ Company led Les Fusiliers Mont-Royal towards the canal at 0500, followed by Major Fernand Beaudoin’s ‘B’ Company. Once both companies were over, Major Georges White’s ‘A’ Company would cross and consolidate the immediate bridgehead, while the first two companies pushed towards Lochtenberg. ‘D’ Company, the support platoons, battalion headquarters, and vehicles would remain on the south bank until the engineers put a bridge over.
The French-Canadian troops advanced quietly through a wood that masked their approach to the canal from the Germans on the other side. Right on schedule, Brochu’s men slid the boats down into the canal, clambered aboard, and paddled hard for the opposite shore. They had feared going straight into a hornet’s nest of enemy fire, but neither a shout of alarm nor a gunshot rang out. Within minutes, ‘C’ Company was out of the boats and scrambling up the opposite bank to take up firing positions, while the two engineers manning each boat paddled back to fetch the next lift.12
To the west, it was an altogether different story for the South Saskatchewan Regiment. At 0615, the pioneer platoon commander returned from the wood where they were to concentrate for the launch and reported the place crawling with Germans. As no opposing forces were supposed to be south of the canal, the South Saskatchewans’ attack plan was completely disrupted. Rather than enter into a firefight to win the canal launching point, Lieutenant Colonel Vern Stott hurriedly shifted the battalion a short distance westward, hoping an unmolested crossing could be made there.13 ‘A’ Company, with Lieutenant Cecil Law’s No. 9 Platoon leading, moved out along what his 1/25,000 map showed as a narrow track. When the track turned out to be a small water-filled canal, Law’s men were forced to advance on top of a low dyke that formed the canal’s left bank.14
Having been posted to the regiment on September 15, Law was a newcomer. But that was true for most everyone that morning. The mauling the South Saskatchewans had suffered in the Forêt de la Londe at the end of August had depleted the ranks almost completely of men who had gone ashore in Normandy. Only six officers who landed in Normandy had remained. To bring the regiment back to strength, it had received about five hundred reinforcements during the short rest in Dieppe. All twenty-four lieutenants had joined since the forest battle.15
Law had deep military roots. His father had served in the Sea-forth Highlanders of Canada in the Great War and was again overseas with that regiment. At thirteen, Law had jiggled his age in order to join the Vancouver regiment in 1936. In 1940, upon graduating from Duke of Connaught High School in New Westminster—where he had commanded the cadets—Law enlisted in Victoria’s Canadian Scottish Regiment because the Seaforths were already overseas. After being shipped to Britain as a reinforcement in 1942, Law’s father intervened to bring him back into the Seaforth fold. Law was shortly sent to Canada for officer training and commissioned in May 1943. Just before D-Day, he again returned to Britain, and in September was assigned to the South Saskatchewans in France.16
If the officers were inexperienced, the men they commanded were generally even more so. Most had been dredged up from rear-area duties, and whatever basic training they had received was long forgotten. About 90 per cent of Law’s platoon was completely green. Only his platoon sergeant and five other men were survivors from Normandy. “These poor lads had no idea of infantry,” he later commented. “They couldn’t properly load a Bren magazine, knew nothing whatsoever about grenades… some of them had thrown exactly one No. 36 grenade without ever learning how to clean, arm, or worse, disarm, or really make them ready for throwing. The PIAT was a complete mystery. Only a couple had ever seen a two-inch mortar. They gave me heart failure ten times a day, but I couldn’t really blame them. Yet I had almost no chance to train them at all, before going in.”17
The surrounding sugar beet fields were sectioned by ditches that either cut across the canal with only a narrow lock providing a crossing point or were diverted away by an equally narrow dyke. On the canal bank opposite, the ditches proved impassable for No. 7 Platoon, preventing it from keeping step with Law’s platoon. Still well short of the Antwerp–Turnhout Canal, No. 9 Platoon found itself alone when No. 7 Platoon was forced to turn back.
Minutes later, machine-gun and rifle fire started cracking past Law and he shouted for his platoon to hit the dirt. The intervening locks they could cross on their stomachs, but the intersecting dykes were slightly higher than the surrounding terrain, so they had to dash madly over them and then flop down prone on the other side. After one such sprint, Law looked back to see how his men were doing and saw that the soldier behind was on his hands and knees, “head down… dragging his rifle alongside him on the ground.” Its barrel was pointed directly at Law. The lieutenant asked if the man had ever been taught how to crawl correctly. No, he replied. Under sporadic fire, Law demonstrated “how to leopard-crawl with head up, and then the thought struck me that he might have limited knowledge of his rifle too. ‘Is your safety on?’ I asked. ‘No Sir,’ he answered proudly, while I had a short heart failure. ‘Well put it on until you’re ready to fire,’ I said rather too fiercely. He looked hurt. ‘You might catch the trigger on a branch and shoot me,’ I explained. ‘Now keep your head up when you crawl so you can see what you’re getting into.’ Alas, only a short distance further on, he was crawling with his head held very high indeed and took a bullet right through the head. I really felt sick for that poor lad.”18
Eventually, Law could see the main canal. On the opposite bank was a cluster of houses, and it was from these that the majority of the German fire was coming. “Section leaders,” Law shouted, “get some fire on those houses so we can get up to the bank for a look.” To his dismay, Law realized his section leaders had no idea how to organize their men. Like some sergeant on a training shoot, Law started crawling from one man in a section to another to personally indicate where each should direct his fire and at what rate. Soon this section
was firing, but it was the only one doing so, and the Germans responded with furious MG 42 bursts. Two of the men were ripped by slugs.
Law was desperate, realizing that his inexperienced platoon was going to have to break off the action and escape to the cover of a nearby dyke. He ordered the two-inch mortar team to fire a couple of high-explosive rounds on the houses, followed by three or four smoke bombs to cover the withdrawal. The first round left the tube and promptly exploded about eight feet overhead, badly wounding the two men manning it and the platoon PIAT man. With Law and his sergeant throwing smoke grenades for cover, the platoon finally extracted itself. It was 0900 and the South Saskatchewans were far behind schedule.19
As ‘A’ Company came back, Stott headed off to brigade headquarters to tee up a new plan with 6 CIB commander Brigadier J.G. “Guy” Gauvreau. Until his promotion on August 30, Gauvreau had commanded the Fusiliers and it was at that battalion’s headquarters that Stott finally found him. Although the Fusiliers had an unopposed crossing, the leading ‘A’ Company had been blocked by heavy machine-gun fire after gaining a crossroads about one hundred yards south of Lochtenberg village. The Fusiliers were caught in the open, while the Germans were dug into thick woods immediately north of the road parallelling the canal and several houses grouped around the crossroads. Planning to personally direct the developing fight, Major Joseph-Mignault-Paul Sauvé had taken his tactical command section across the canal.20 Gauvreau had set up at battalion headquarters to support Sauvé, for although the thirty-seven-year-old was a veteran of Normandy and more recent battles, this was his first as battalion commander.
After Stott tersely briefed Gauvreau, the brigadier ordered the battalion to cross at the original site. The two artillery regiments would smother both the woods held by the Germans and the opposite bank of the canal with high explosives. They would also fire extensive smoke to conceal the men going over in boats. The new assault would kick off at 1300 hours. As the South Saskatchewans manhandled the boats to the initial crossing point, the gunners of the 5th and 6th Field Regiments alternated between shelling the woods, the north bank of the canal, and blasting the woods and houses where the Germans were holding up the Fusiliers. The fire on the Germans south of the canal proved effective, for when the South Saskatchewans reached the concentration point they found the woods abandoned.
‘A’ Company, dragging the boats forward, headed towards the canal on schedule. Five minutes later, the battalion’s three-inch mortars started dropping smoke rounds to cover the move. At 1310, the artillery weighed in with fire that “caused terrific damage to buildings in enemy territory and effectively silenced the majority of the enemy weapons.”21 Twenty minutes after the artillery opened fire, Lieutenant Cecil Law and his No. 9 Platoon came out of the woods and headed to the canal with three assault boats.
Things started well enough, with Law’s platoon quickly making the crossing under the smoke cover. The company’s other two platoons soon joined it and established a solid base on the bank. At 1330, company commander Major Ken Williams relayed the signal “Whippet” to battalion, signifying that ‘A’ Company was tight on the opposite shore. Major Harry Williams started feeding ‘B’ Company over. By 1425, his men were across.22
Law ran over to Major Harry Williams and explained that he was taking his platoon east along the right side of the road, and ‘B’ Company should move up the left side in accordance with the battalion plan.23 ‘D’ Company would then cross over and defend the landing site, while the two lead companies pushed to a crossroads that led to their final objective of Lochtenberg about a half-mile to the east.24 Unable to locate his own company commander, Law set out with No. 9 Platoon. He expected the rest of ‘A’ Company would come up behind as soon as ‘D’ Company was firm on the canal bank.25
Dogging close behind ‘B’ Company’s Williams was eighteen-year-old Private Charles “Chic” Goodman carrying the wireless set. Relatively speaking, despite his youth, Goodman was a South Saskatchewan veteran—having gone up from ‘B’ Echelon reinforcement status to the battalion’s fighting units after Bourgébus Ridge on July 20. He had seen a lot of combat since. The St. John, New Brunswick native had joined the cadet corps in grade six. With his mother’s permission, Goodman had lied about his age to enlist in the regular army when he was only sixteen. The older soldiers had quickly nicknamed the scrawny kid Chic, short for chicken, and referring to his skinny arms and legs. But Goodman had thrown himself into soldiering, enjoying the challenges. He was soon rated a crack shot. Having an uncle who had been a signaller in the Great War and had taught him Morse code and other signalling methods, Goodman qualified for the Royal Canadian Signals Corps. After Bourgébus, he had served as a platoon rifleman until the reorganization at Dieppe resulted in his being made a company signaller.
Ahead of Goodman and the rest of Williams’s company headquarters section, Lieutenant Ernest Arlond Toole’s platoon was on point. The twenty-nine-year-old officer, who also hailed from St. John, had only joined the battalion on September 12 and had made Goodman’s acquaintance the night before. Toole had left their hometown just weeks earlier and the two had agreed to catch up on local news after the current action.
‘B’ Company was advancing rapidly up a ditch bordering the road—too quickly so far as Williams and Goodman were concerned. They were darting past houses that nobody from Toole’s platoon had bothered clearing. Any number of Germans could be inside. Turning to Goodman, Williams said he was going to catch up to the lieutenant and rein him in. “Do you want me to come?” Goodman asked. “No, you stay here with the company section.” Taking his runner, Williams sprinted off towards the front of the advancing column. Moments later, the forward platoon was cut to ribbons in a crossfire coming from positions to its front and left flank. Toole was among the men killed in seconds.26 Suddenly, a small tank rolled out from behind one of the buildings about a hundred yards ahead, and its machine gun ripped off a long burst that killed Williams.
Both ‘B’ Company and ‘A’ Company’s No. 9 Platoon came under intense fire from their front and were driven to ground inside the ditches. The tank growled back and forth, snapping off rounds from its small main gun and bursts from the machine gun. Unlike most infantrymen, who tended to identify any tank as the mastodon Tiger with its powerful 88-millimetre, Law realized this one was much smaller, lightly skinned, mounting only a 37-millimetre cannon. That meant a well-placed PIAT round could knock it out. Trouble was that Law’s PIAT gunner had been wounded and his assistant confessed he had no idea how to fire the weapon.27
Across the road, Goodman heard someone from ‘A’ Company shouting about whether anyone knew how to fire a PIAT. Goodman had paid attention during his PIAT training and figured he was as skilled as anyone. Dashing across the road, he crawled up the ditch to Law, loaded one of the two-and-a-half-pound hollow-charge explosive bombs, and shouldered the thirty-two-pound launcher. The first round was a clean miss.28 Goodman fired another round and scored a hit that Law thought knocked one of the tank’s track guards off, causing it to skew into a tree.29 Reaching into the bomb carrier for the third and final round, Goodman pulled out a stash of bully beef and cheese instead. “Guess someone figured there was a better chance of being hungry than encountering a tank,” Goodman ruefully muttered.30 Law sent the assistant gunner running back to ‘A’ Company to fetch more ammunition, while Goodman dodged back across the road to rejoin his unit.31
Knowing that ‘B’ Company was badly exposed to the fire coming from the houses and that it was only a matter of minutes before his platoon was cut to pieces, Law decided the only thing to do was to cross the road and take the fight to the Germans inside the houses. Having earlier lost his mortar to the prematurely exploding round, Law and his sergeant covered the move with smoke grenades. None of his green troops were “keen to brave the tracers, which seemed like a solid wall of fire.” But when he yelled, “Go,” everyone “pelted across the road and into the alleyway between the houses.” Amazingly, nobody was hit.
When they tried getting into the backyards to take the houses from the rear, Law discovered that the thin cement walls bordering the grounds had been topped with broken glass meant to deter thieves, but proving a hellish impediment to the movement of troops. Finally managing to get into the backyards, the platoon discovered that the Germans had fled. A farmhouse to the north, however, posed a new threat that Law decided had to be secured. The platoon rushed across open ground and gained the house unscathed. But when a section moved to check a root cellar about twenty yards north of the building, it was caught by machine-gun fire. One man died and another two were wounded.
Law began fortifying the house by setting up two of his Bren guns at the corners facing north, and the third on the farmhouse’s top floor. In the cellar, the Canadians found the farmer, his wife, and three children hiding. Joining the Bren gunner upstairs, Law looked out a window as a half-track drove out into the field about thirty yards away. It was headed north, the crew sitting down rather than manning the 15-millimetre machine gun and its driver clearly exposed to their fire. Realizing that the Germans could easily be killed before they could retaliate, Law yelled at the men to open fire. “But they were just too scared to do so.” Watching the half-track trundle off to the safety of nearby woods, Law “practically sobbed.” He later reflected that the men might have been right, for the farmhouse could have easily been ripped apart by the powerful machine gun, capable of putting out armour-piercing rounds at a velocity of 2,715 feet per second, which would have cut through the walls like a knife through hot butter.
By now, the platoon leader was feeling out on a limb. The rest of the company should have caught up, but there was no sign of it. Lacking a radio, he sent a runner to find the company headquarters and report his location. It was beginning to get dark, and he feared that if the Germans in the woods realized how weak the farmhouse position was they would counterattack. The farmwife emerged from the cellar to offer Law and his men bowls of potato soup. “We hated to take their food, but we were literally weak from hunger and the stress of the day.” Law had just finished gulping down his serving when the runner came back with instructions for them to withdraw across the canal. The Fusiliers had been thrown back, and brigade had ordered the South Saskatchewans to pull back as well.32