by Dick Camp
Enemy fire swept the bridge, killing and wounding most of the men and leaving the Hartland drifting, out of control. Lt. Cmdr. Godfrey Philip Billot, RN, Hartland’s commander, was severely wounded in both legs and a shoulder. He saw there was no alternative but to abandon ship. The word was passed from man to man. First Sergeant Whittaker remained behind, directing the evacuation of the wounded, even though he was close to unconsciousness from the soaring heat and smoke. Finally he was told that everyone was out and had just started climbing the ladder when he heard a faint voice calling for help. He turned around immediately and was able to locate the man. “By this time the Marine sergeant was too weak to lift him,” Cooke wrote, “and conditions in the after-hold were all but unbearable. Whittaker directed the wounded man to hold onto his legs and keep his nose close to the deck where there was an inch or two of breathable air. Then he crawled toward the emergency exit, dragging the man after him. The sailor was too weak to climb and fell at the foot of the ladder. Whittaker kept climbing, made the open deck and gave directions for another man to make the final rescue … then he passed out.”
By the time the fresh air revived Whittaker, fires raged in several locations close to crates of ammunition and mortar shells. He realized the ship could blow up at any moment, so he gathered the two surviving Marines and went over the side. They reached the seawall only fifty yards away but could not climb it. Cooke wrote, “By luck, an old tire was hanging over the side. This Whittaker hung onto, but was too exhausted to get to the top. The man behind him used Whittaker’s body as a ladder and climbed up. Whittaker then was boosted by the man behind him, and so by a kind of human chain, the Marines and a few comrades reached the beach at Oran.” The handful of survivors took shelter in a shallow trench at the base of a cliff and took stock of their situation. Several men were wounded and needed medical treatment, they only had two .45-caliber pistols, a half dozen hand grenades for defense, and their position was open to attack from three sides. Nevertheless, Whittaker organized a defense and when several small French patrols stumbled into their position, they were taken prisoner.
By 0410 the Hartland’s superstructure was engulfed in flames and she was completely abandoned. Lieutenant Commander Dickey had high praise for the men in his command. “They had action stations in the captain’s cabin in the after part of the ship. Fire and smoke from enemy hits made conditions almost unbearable, yet not one attempted to leave his station. Upon abandoning ship officers and men again showed the highest kind of leadership and spirit in helping to save the lives of many United States soldiers who were unfamiliar with the ship and the use of the life jackets … and at the wharf, although physically exhausted, they continued to save lives by pulling men out of the water.” Private First Class Earheart, according to his Silver Star citation, “volunteered in the face of continuous Vichy French shelling, to swim to a harbor tug whose movements were endangering the men abandoning the warship. He was killed in this effort.” At 0525, the Hartland exploded, damaging a number of buildings around the Mole Ravin Blanc, and sank. One officer recalled, “The American flag still flew, readily visible in the light from the flames before the explosion.”
For five hours the group managed to hold out, waiting for the outcome of the battle. They now numbered three Marines, six unwounded and fourteen wounded British seamen, and two dozen French prisoners. Sometime around 0900, a large group of heavily armed French soldiers surrounded their position and demanded their surrender. The men had no other choice and came out with their hands up. The wounded were taken to the local hospital, while the three Marines were taken to an air raid shelter where prisoners were being assembled and later that day to a French fortress overlooking the city. The next morning they were transferred to a former barracks where they stayed until being liberated on the following day. Cooke wrote that the “[f]irst direct bearer of the news was a U.S. Army half-track, mounting a .30-caliber machine gun which drove into the prison past several open-mouthed French sentries, pulled up at the entrance with a flourish, and took over the fort.” Operation Reservist was a deadly failure, a waste of gallantry and men. Of the 17 officers and 376 men of the 6th Armored Regiment, 9 officers and 180 men were killed in action, and 5 officers and 153 wounded. The U.S. Navy lost five killed and seven wounded (including two Marines—Earhart’s body was recovered but not Horn’s remains) and the Royal Navy suffered 113 killed and 86 wounded. Rick Atkinson noted in An Army at Dawn, The War in North Africa, 1942-1943 that, “Eisenhower eventually accepted blame for the debacle. … [N]o consequence attended the gesture … but Andrew Bennett … persisted in his criticism; he infuriated both the British and Eisenhower, who declared he was ‘going to get that fellow out of there immediately.’ Unrepentant, Bennett soon found himself in Iceland.”
The commanding officer of the Londonderry Marines in an Order of the Day dated 23 February 1943 stated, “[The Marines] were called upon and were found not wanting. Their names will go down in the history of our organization as a symbol of courage and self-sacrifice.”
CHAPTER 3
Marine with the Chetniks
The matte-black Royal Air Force (RAF) four-engine Halifax bomber from No. 138 (Special Duties) Squadron winged its way across the Mediterranean and western Greece toward the clandestine drop zone in the mountains of Yugoslavia. The single passenger in the fuselage was bundled up against the cold. At eight thousand feet, the temperature was not the scorching heat he was used to in the Sahara desert of Libya where the flight had originated. The experienced bomber crew had warned him about the cold, having conducted many agent insertions and supply drops along this same route. The British Special Operations Executive (SOE) used this special “Moon Squadron” for the heavy duty work of dropping containers, packages, and agents into German occupied Europe because of its ability to carry heavy loads of supplies over long distances. Their mission this night was to drop the agent and three tons of arms, ammunition, and explosives to the Yugoslav resistance fighters.
The aircrew anxiously scanned the ground looking for the signal fire. They were near the end of the scheduled five-hour flight and should be approaching the drop zone (DZ) at any moment. “There it is,” the co-pilot called out, pointing to the bonfires in the shape of a square cross. The passenger, Marine Capt. Walter R. Mansfield recalled, “A tiny light blinked ‘dit-dah-dit’ from the ground near the fires. Then it repeated. These were the signals we had been briefed to accept. We flashed a coded response back from an Aldis lamp. Then the lights passed beyond the hole and I could not see them. We came downstairs to about a thousand feet. After two passes over the target, the bombardier leaned over and yelled in my ear, ‘Get yourself ready—this is it!’” Mansfield slid over to the “Joe hole,” a hatch in the deck of the aircraft named for the agents (“Joes”) that parachuted from it. “The light directly over the bole went red—my warning signal!” he explained. “I threw my legs over the side of the hole and suspended myself over it, hands supporting on the edges, eyes facing the light directly above me. One-two-three-four-five—‘Green light!’ I shoved off.”
Walter Mansfield
Prior to World War II, Walter R. Mansfield was a successful anti-trust lawyer in William J. “Bill” Donovan’s New York City firm. When Donovan was appointed as the head of OSS, Mansfield volunteered for the secret organization and then applied for commission in the Marine Corps Reserve. After receiving a commission, he received orders to the Marine Parachute Training School at New River, North Carolina, which he downplayed—“All they do is throw you out of a plane. Do five jumps and you’re a parachutist.” In 1942 he was commissioned in the Marine Corps Reserve. He underwent special operations training at areas “A” and “C,” located adjacent to the Marine Corps Base at Quantico, Virginia; Area “B” in the vicinity of Catoctin Mountain in Maryland; and London, England. The training included hand-to-hand combat techniques, marksmanship and physical conditioning. The OSS developed several unique training facilities—the “House of Horrors,” designed to
teach close shooting techniques; the “Tranizaium,” a twenty-foot by twenty-foot structure where recruits learned to maneuver and walk in narrow spaces—and “hired” the renowned hand-to-hand combat instructor Maj. William “Fearless Dan” Fairbairn to teach “gutter fighting.” In England Mansfield said he “trained with French and Norwegian parachutists.”
Upon completion of training and a period of indoctrination, Mansfield was sent to the Middle East in the latter part of July 1943 where he was briefed and trained for the Yugoslav mission. “We conferred with the British representative of the MO-4 [Military Operations Directorate], the corresponding British unit similar to the OSS. We were given long lectures on the latest intelligence in Yugoslavia, both on the side of Mihailovich [General Draza, leader of the monarchist Chetnik movement] and on the side of Tito [Josip B., leader of the Communist partisans].” Within days, Mansfield was assigned a comprehensive multi-faceted fact-finding mission. “I was to be the preliminary American liaison representative directly to General Draza Mihailovich; that I was to report general military intelligence, including disposition of his forces as well as those of the enemy; that I was to find out what operations he had been conducting as well as those planned for the future; that I was to see what his manpower and supply situation was, and to report any suggestions and plans for operations in the future.”
At the time of Mansfield’s assignment, there were two factions vying for power in Yugoslavia—the Partisans under Communist Party leader Tito, a Croatian, with their core area in the mountains and forests of northern Bosnia; and the Royalist Chetniks under Yugoslavian Mihailovich, a Serb, who operated out of their base in the wooded mountains of Montenegro in the south. They were bitter enemies who fought each other as much as the Germans. Britain initially favored the former resistance leader but they were increasingly supporting Tito because they thought Mihailovich was not doing enough to fight the Germans and there were indications that he was collaborating with the enemy. In late summer 1943, Donovan was able to break the British monopoly on undercover operations in the Balkans, despite SOE objections, and send in his own fact-finding agents. President Roosevelt spelled out this policy in a letter to Donovan saying in part, “In order that there should be no misunderstanding, it should be made clear to the British that, in accordance with the established policy and practice, we intend to exercise this freedom of action for obtaining independent American secret intelligence.” Mansfield explained, “At the time the American policy in Yugoslavia … was that we backed all resistance leaders who would fight against the Germans.”
“Zdravo, Purvi Americanec” (Greetings, First American)
Mansfield leaped into space. “The chute blossomed easily,” he said, “and I suddenly found myself in a contrasting world of silence, with no more roar of motors. I gained my bearings and saw that I had been dropped too far to one side of the fires, which were several hundred yards distant.” As the ground rapidly came up, he frantically tried to maneuver closer to the signal fires “but realized that I would never make it. I landed in a pile of rocks on a hillside.” Fortune was with him and he was just bruised, not injured. “I got out of my harness, drew my .45 and waited in the cold. Within ten minutes I heard voices, yelling out in Serbian. ‘Zdravo! Zdravo! Piatelj!’ (Greetings! Greetings! Friend!). I answered and soon was surrounded by a small group of weird, ragged-looking men, most of whom had black beards and hats bearing a skull and bones emblem. I told their leader that I was an American, whereupon they all began to whoop, holler and kiss me (black beards and all) yelling ‘Zdravo, Purvi Americanec’ (Greetings, First American). I mustered my Serbian to reply, ‘Zdravo! Chetnici!’—the first American had landed.”
The drop zone seemed to be covered with members of Mihailovich’s fighters. “There were about three hundred guerrillas; some tending fires, others standing guard around the little hillocks near the field or waiting to gather up the containers and put them in oxen carts,” Mansfield said. “All cheered loudly as I marched with my little escort to the middle of the field where a group was waiting.” He was introduced to the group—SOE representatives Col. William Bailey and Maj. Kenneth Greenlees, and Mihailovich’s emissary, a Serb named Slepcovich. “Just then the bomber roared in over our heads and dropped fifteen parachute containers … approximately three tons of arms … mostly [German] material that had been captured in North Africa … three or four heavy machine guns, explosives with primer cords, time fuses, percussion caps, and the necessary paraphernalia to do the demolition work. Each cylindrical container weighed about three hundred pounds … and each container of the rhomboid type somewhat less.”
The experienced Halifax crew dropped the bundles on target and the guerrillas wasted little time in gathering the containers and loading them on carts. British Capt. Michael Lees noted:
In the dropping zone there was hectic activity. Peasants dressed in broadly cut jodhpur-style breeches and square-waisted jackets, all of heavy homespun material, were carrying in the twelve or so containers dropped from our Halifax and loading them onto bullock carts. These were driven by their womenfolk, and as soon as they had their load up, they rumbled off into the darkness. My first impression was one of remarkable organization. No one stood around. Everyone seemed to know his task and to get on with it, although they all had time to greet us, embrace us, and make us feel welcome. The relatively few mobile troops guarding the dropping zone were dressed for the most part in peasant gear, though some of them wore battle-dress jackets. The officers mostly wore Yugoslav military clothing and equipment, and most of them carried Schmeisser submachine guns; I learned that the possession of one of these was a sign of considerable prestige. In all, the Loyalists were a motley lot in their clothing and equipment. What struck me most was the integration of the peasantry and these Loyalist Chetniks. The peasants, a proportion of whom were carrying long, ancient rifles slung across their backs, acted as runners, supplied the bullock carts and transport, and brought food and drink.
Mansfield said that the “air was cool and the soil rocky in the mountains, a wonderful contrast to the burning sands of Africa.” With a simple wave of his hand, the Serbian emissary led the group off the drop zone along a rough path into the wooded hillside. Mansfield recalled:
After two miles of walking, we penetrated a little woods on the top of one of the hills and there found a big log fire, with rough-hewn benches lying about. Big bearded guards stood about under the trees … all were dressed in homespun peasant breeches in rather ragged condition, with white hats bearing the Yugoslav emblem. Nearby there were two or three Serbian mountain peasant houses called ‘kolibas,’ a few captured pup tents … and a group of tents made from camouflaged parachutes which housed the British contingent—Col. Bailey, his second in command, Lt. Col. Duane Hudson, [Capt.] Michael Lees and three noncommissioned officers, including two Royal Marine sergeants who had been captured on Crete, escaped, and ended up in the camp.
General Mihailovich
Colonel Bailey spoke up. “This is for the present the general staff headquarters. I think the General will be along shortly because I know he has been waiting and is anxious to see you.” Mansfield was somewhat disappointed as he expected “something a little more pretentious,” for the headquarters of a guerrilla leader who supposedly commanded thousands of fighters. “I was soon to learn, however, that appearances were deceiving,” Mansfield said. “The surrounding woods were full of guerrillas, fully equipped with radio communications to all parts of Serbia, and their power could not be measured by the size of their headquarters.” He learned later that over four hundred men were deployed in the hills surrounding the headquarters. About a half mile away, Mihailovich had set up his central communication stations, which consisted of five portable suitcase radios that maintained contact with thirty-eight field commanders throughout the country. Within minutes, “a dark figure emerged from one side of the woods, with several others following,” Mansfield said.
Colonel Bailey stepped forward and in
troduced the Chetnik leader. “The General and I saluted and shook hands,” Mansfield said before describing Mihailovich. “Before me stood a man of perhaps forty-five years, stocky-medium build, heavy iron-gray beard, wearing a black cap, leather jacket, peasant britches, and a well-polished cartridge belt from which a Luger protruded at a cocky angle. He smiled broadly. ‘Greetings, Captain. Welcome to our free mountains of Yugoslavia,’ he said quietly, in perfect French. ‘Thank God you landed safely. We were all worried. We don’t want anything to happen to the American officer who had been sent in to us.’ I thanked him.” Mansfield soon discovered that the British officers were not keen on any private discussions with Mihailovich in French—they wanted to be present to interpret and thus aware of all that was going on. The SOE headquarters was still not happy with the American presence. Later on Mansfield received hints from the British officers that their government was considering cutting off aid to Mihailovich.
Mihailovich invited the group to sit around the fire. “Yanko, the General’s orderly, appeared with a bottle of ‘Rakia,’ a strong peasant-made vodka distilled from plums,” Mansfield recalled. “This loosened our tongues and in a short while I was telling them about various Yugoslav staff officers who had escaped in 1941 [when the country was overrun by the German Army] and were now working for their country’s liberation in Cairo and London. … I could not help noticing the sharp contrast in appearance between these ragged men and the neat well-dressed officers I had met in Cairo. Here it was the man, not the cut of his uniform that mattered. Here were the fighters!” During the conversation, Mansfield learned that the Germans patrolled the roads but seldom came up into the woods, and then only with a sizable force, “which would be detected well enough in advance,” Mihailovich assured him. “[But], always be ready for a quick move, or ‘pocred,’ on a moment’s notice.”