The First Snow of Winter

by Fred Allen

  Sharkey, Peter and the Recce Platoon commander reviewed all available maps and aerial photographs. They took two small armoured personnel carriers and a jeep and moved off in the early evening. They made early contact with the British unit on their left, briefed the Intelligence Officer on their mission, and arranged to establish communications at specific times but to maintain wireless silence for the remainder of each day. The only information of possible value came from the Royal Artillery Forward Observer (FOO) who was working with the unit. He had reported what he thought was enemy activity in a certain sector and he indicated the area on their maps.

  The Recce Platoon commander agreed that they should first take a look in the area identified by the FOO. Early the following morning they parked their vehicles behind some vacant farm buildings and Sharkey and Peter moved forward very quietly on foot to have a closer look. Sharkey’s sharp ears picked up something and they both went down on their hands and knees and moved forward with extra caution. In front of them, through the gradually improving light, they could see what appeared to be an old gravel quarry with a line of trees along the lip of the quarry on one side.

  As they watched carefully it became obvious that there was something against the lip of the quarry on their left and under the line of trees. Large outlines could be distinguished against the sharp face of the quarry wall and, as the light improved, it became obvious that these shapes were large camouflage nets. The shapes plus some ominous metallic sounds, convinced them that they had located a “Hedgehog” perfectly positioned between the two units and prepared to wreak havoc on the rear echelons of the advancing Allied units.

  One entrance to the quarry was directly in front of them and they could see that it was both steep and narrow. To complete their reconnaissance they separated to familiarize themselves with the perimeter of the quarry. Taking the area to the right Peter found a second entrance to the quarry and this, too, was at the top of a narrow and steep ramp. After these individual reconnaissances, Peter and Sharkey met and rejoined the remainder of the patrol at the abandoned farm buildings. They briefed the platoon commander on their findings.

  Sharkey was of the opinion that time was of the essence because there was really nothing to stop this small powerful force from cutting a swath through the rear echelons of the advancing Allied units. They could move at any time but the longer they waited the greater the disruption the enemy could cause. The ideal plan would be one that would prevent the tanks from exiting the quarry.

  As usual, Sharkey had an idea. He quickly sketched out his plan on a page from the platoon commander’s notebook. It was based upon the one weakness of the position that had been adopted by the “Hedgehog” commander and that was the restricted access to and from the quarry. There were only the two entrances and both were steep and narrow. In fact they were so steep that an exiting tank would, for an instant, expose its most vulnerable parts-underbelly and tracks-at the top of each ramp. They could position one antitank weapon to cover each exit and also try to place three anti-tank mines across each exit so as the lead tank came over the prow of the ramp it would fall on the land mines.

  The alternative was to wait until they could break wireless silence in about three hours and request help. The problem in following this plan would be that in three hours the Germans could be deep into the allied rear echelons. The compromise plan was to set up their control of the exits so that if the Germans did make a move they could put Sharkey’s original plan into effect and try to prevent the tanks from exiting the quarry.

  They proceeded very carefully and succeeded in placing the anti-tank weapons at points from which they could cover the two exits, and Peter had succeeded in placing the three anti-tank mines across the right exit when all hell broke loose. In his attempt to mine the left-hand entrance, Sharkey had encountered a sentry post that he and Peter had missed on their original reconnaissance and his little group had come under fire. With a well placed grenade Sharkey neutralized the sentry post but the damage had been done and the element of surprise was lost.

  The roar of starting engines broke the morning silence as the German commander realized he had no choice but to start his foray into allied lines immediately. Nearly blotted out by the sound of tank engines were the shouts and commands of the tank crews. From the top of the ramp at the left entrance Peter carefully took aim and dropped two Germans trying to extract ground irons to which the camouflage nets were attached. Still partially covered by their camouflage nets, the huge tanks all appeared to be heading up the ramp to the left exit. Sharkey and his group had not had time to set out their mines but his PIAT made a direct hit on one of the lead tank’s tracks as it rose up over the prow of the ramp and the shuddering hulk swung silently and, as Sharkey had predicted, blocked the forward progress of the other two tanks. They reversed immediately and, lumbering slowly, turned towards the other exit.

  Peter suddenly heard Sharkey screaming “Here they come Boyo! Watch out for the APCs!” It was only now that Peter realized that there had been three Armoured Personnel Carriers under the camouflage nets that they had not seen in their reconnaissance. The APCs now headed for the right exit leading the other two tanks. Sharkey and his group picked off the members of the crew as they bailed out of their disabled tank and took two of them as prisoners, both wounded. They were both Hitler Youth and still full of fight. Sharkey silenced them quickly with well-placed thumps from his rifle butt and had them tied up and taken back to the platoon commander. With the left exit now effectively blocked, Sharkey now moved quickly to join Peter at the other exit taking the two remaining PIATs just as the APCs started up the ramp.

  Peter directed the fire of the PIAT covering his exit and they knocked out the first APC. The second APC attempted to push through the wreckage and was ripped apart by one of the mines Peter’s group had set out. The third APC was experiencing difficulty in getting through the piles of wreckage and there were streams of orders coming from the second tank. Peter moved up hoping to be able to hit the tank with one of the explosives he was carrying in his small back pack. As he hurled the package he was aware that the tank turret had opened and the head and shoulders of the tank commander emerged firing an automatic weapon. The sensation Peter felt when he was hit was as if someone had hit him on the head with a baseball bat. Suddenly he was on his knees, blood was streaming down the side of his face, his eyes just refused to focus and his legs didn’t respond to the order to move him away from this place. Then he felt something rip into the back of his leg and darkness descended.

  The next thing Peter knew was that he was limping back towards the patrol’s base position; he was carrying his rifle with which he was threatening several very young German soldiers. Two of the soldiers were carrying the stretcher they had used to move their supplies up to the quarry on which lay the limp, lifeless figure of Sharkey. One of the young Germans was jabbering at him in what appeared to be broken English, “he is dead, Sergeant, this man is dead!” Peter refused to listen and waved his rifle menacingly. “No! No! He’s not dead! Move! Move!”

  Perhaps reality finally started to penetrate his awareness with the realization that Sharkey, the indestructible Sharkey, was really dead. Tears welled up in his eyes and despite the repeated admonitions he had heard from Sharkey that “Soldiers don’t cry” tears flowed down his face and, suddenly, Peter felt terribly tired.

  When Peter awoke, he was in a bed at a field dressing station. His head was swathed in bandages and there was another heavy bandage around his right leg above his knee. Noting that Peter was now awake, one of the orderlies told a doctor who came over to speak to Peter.

  “Well, Sergeant, you just qualified for a couple more wound stripes. Nothing serious; the head wound looked serious but your helmet saved you and it turned out to be just a concussion with contusions-doesn’t that sound great to tell your grandchildren-a concussion with contusions. The leg is only a flesh wound but I note another scar
not far from there and it would appear, Sergeant, that you don’t cover your ass very well. We’re going to send you back to a field hospital later in the day and they’ll probably keep you there for a week or so. Say hello to all of those pretty nurses for me.” Peter was transferred to the field hospital later that day.

  Peter was up and walking around a few days later but he was advised that the leg wound was a little more serious than indicated in the original diagnosis. There was some muscle and hamstring damage that would take a bit of time and therapy to heal so the war might just be over for him.

  Ten days after his arrival at the field hospital Peter was getting ready for a flight back to England and treatment in one of the base hospitals to be followed by a month or so at a convalescence depot. Late in the afternoon one of the nurses told him that he had some visitors, and VIPs at that. He was seated in his wheel chair when the group entered the ward and Peter instinctive attempted to rise when he recognized the brigade commander-the same officer who had been his boss as brigade major-but the Brigadier told him to remain seated.

  The Brigadier was accompanied by Peter’s CO and the Battalion Adjutant. “Sergeant Marshall, I consider it a great honor to be here today. The Division Commander was called to a conference at 21 Army Group and he asked me to represent him. His Majesty, King George VI, has graciously agreed, on the recommendation of the General Officer Commanding the Canadian Forces in Europe, to confer upon you his highest award for valor in the face of the enemy, the Victoria Cross. This award is for conspicuous gallantry in an action that will save thousands of lives. In making the original recommendation, your CO determined that in the action at the old quarry you participated in all phases of the action from planning to the highly effective execution. Our investigation confirmed that under your personal direction troops under your command destroyed two heavy tanks and three APCs with total disregard for your own safety. Furthermore, although painfully wounded, you personally neutralized the third tank. You took ten prisoners including the German commander and made a valiant effort to save the life of your comrade CSM Shawkey.”

  The Brigadier saluted Peter and stepped forward to shake his hand. At this point loud applause broke out from members of the visiting party, assembled doctors and nurses and the other patients in the ward.

  The Brigadier continued. “You will recall, Sergeant, that for several years-off and on-you and I have discussed whether you should apply for officer training. Well that question has been resolved by His Majesty. As of this date, Sergeant Marshall becomes Lieutenant Marshall as His Majesty confers on you a battlefield commission. While I have always been unsuccessful in my efforts to persuade you to apply for officers’ training, I’m reasonably sure that you have no intention of disobeying a Royal Command. You will return to England tomorrow as scheduled but you will remain in London in accommodations to be arranged by CMHQ and prepare for the investiture which will be in about two weeks. Treatment and physiotherapy will be provided by a hospital in the London area and regimental tailors have been alerted to provide you with a complete officers’ wardrobe on a priority basis. Most of the cost of the new wardrobe will be met by your very grateful Government and the cost to you should not be that difficult as I understand you have been recently restored to full pay after defraying the cost of refurbishing a certain English pub. Finally, after the investiture, you will be flown back to Canada to participate in a major bond drive which will open, after rehearsals, in Quebec City. Other awards arising from your highly spectacular action have been the Military Cross for your platoon commander, three military medals and, in recognition of his vital role in the operation, CSM Shawkey will be awarded a Mention-in-Dispatches. It is most unfortunate that limitations on posthumous awards prevent us from conferring something more substantial on such a gallant soldier with such a distinguished, and, I might add, colorful record. My heartfelt sympathy, Lieutenant, on your loss of such a great and loyal comrade.”

  Peter arrived in London the following day and was met by a senior officer from CMHQ. He was transported to an officer’s club where he found that a suite of rooms had been reserved for him. He was advised that a staff car was at his disposal twenty-four hours a day and the driver would be provided with a schedule of all his appointments including those with the regimental tailor on Saville Row and the local hospital where he would continue his treatments including physiotherapy. The valet provided by the officers’ club would also be provided with his daily schedule of appointments.

  As unaccustomed as Peter was to this VIP treatment, he found it quite pleasant. His new uniforms would not be ready for at least a week, but he was provided with a new battledress on which his new rank was prominently displayed and his ribbons, less the VC-which, of course, had not yet been officially awarded-were neatly mounted on his chest. For the first time, these included the French Croix de Guerre and they represented an impressive splash of color on his rather drab battle dress. He was also provided with brown shoes, shirts, ties and an officers’ forage cap.

  As a status check, he asked his valet to have his car brought around and, sure enough, he wasn’t dreaming, the car was in front of the club in fifteen minutes.

  This must be, thought Peter, what Sharkey had talked about so often. The Big Gong is really the only Gong he would say in referring to the Victoria Cross. It’s what we call the “Latch Lifter”; it opened all doors.

  Peter used the staff car to visit a couple of Sharkey’s favorite pubs and informed a number of acquaintances of Sharkey’s demise. Actual tears were shed in both places as the publicans announced the news to their patrons and ordered a drink on the house as a toast to their old friend and comrade. Peter noted, with some satisfaction, that nearly all the drink orders were either Jamieson’s or Bushmill’s Irish Whiskey.

  Dozens of cables addressed to him had arrived at CMHQ and were delivered to him at the club. There was one from his parents expressing congratulations and their pride in his award. There were also cables from the Canadian Prime Minister, the Minister of National Defence, the Premier of the Province of New Brunswick and the Lieutenant-Governor of the Province.

  The regimental tailors were giving Peter’s new wardrobe top priority and Peter had several fittings for his serge uniform by the end of the week. Also to be provided would be a serge battle dress, two forage caps, a Sam Brown belt, several pairs of shoes, a trench coat and an officer’s great coat. The tailor would also provide a blazer with the regimental crest, two pairs of flannels and, as a personal present from the director of the company which had been regimental tailors for many regiments over many decades, a business suit and a British Warm. The latter was a very special overcoat usually worn by senior officers. The Managing Director of the Regimental tailors insisted on being present for the final fitting and for when Peter was “dressed” for his visit to Buckingham Palace for his investiture.

  Peter’s investiture was the first of a number scheduled for His Majesty that day and, on this occasion,

  Peter would be the lone recipient of the VC. Peter waited nervously while one of the King’s Equerries read the complete citation and Peter heard the full account clearly for the first time. He remembered most of his actions as described in the citation but some of the deeds were lost in that period of darkness between that thunderous thump on the side of his head and when he found himself escorting the prisoners that were carrying Sharkey’s lifeless body on his way back to the abandoned farm buildings.

  His Majesty was very gracious as he pinned the prestigious medal on Peter’s chest. The King asked Peter his age and his eyes opened in some surprise when Peter answered “Twenty-three, Your Majesty”. He then commented on the many ribbons that were already present on Peter’s chest and described Peter as a very gallant young man.

  After the investiture there was a formal reception in Peter’s honor at the CMHQ Officer’s Mess and it was very late when his driver took him back to the club. His flight back to
Canada was in two days and Peter had a few more things he would like to do before departure. First, he visited the Guard’s Depot where the Depot Commander greeted him as an honored guest. He gave a copy of a recent photograph of Sharkey to the Depot RSM who promised that the new picture would replace the one of Sharkey that already occupied a place of honor on the Guard’s Depot Wall of Honor. He also provided the RSM with a full set of Sharkey’s ribbons on which had been mounted the Mention-in-Dispatches insignia awarded to Sharkey posthumously for his final action. The RSM confirmed what the Brigadier had told him at the field hospital two weeks earlier; that only the VC and

  Mention-in-Dispatches could be awarded posthumously and, while this explained Sharkey’s last award, the true significance of this protocol would come back to haunt him much later.

  That night Peter used his staff car to visit Sharkey’s two favorite pubs and once again each publican rang the bell announcing a drink on the house this time the toast would honor Peter. Both publicans requested a copy of both Sharkey’s and Peter’s pictures which would be mounted in a place of honor in their respective public houses. Peter promised to send the pictures. He had one more copy with him for which he already had plans.

  Early in the evening he directed his driver to drive south to the village where he had had his first real encounter with Sharkey. Peter went directly to the pub where he and Sharkey fought their epic battle. The arrival of the staff car aroused the attention of the regulars as did the entrance to the pub of the very distinguished young Canadian officer. The more knowledgeable patrons immediately recognized the significance of his ribbons and word spread quickly. Peter pretended to take great pains in inspecting the furniture and then stepped up to the bar. It was the same publican who had set the damages at one hundred pounds and which had taken Peter over two years to pay off. He told the publican that he was inspecting the furniture because, after all, he had paid for it. Now the face of the publican lit up in recognition. He had also read of the investiture in the papers and the local people had established a strong tie with the battalion of “Colonials” who had been stationed with them for so long. The publican immediately rang the bell and announced there would be a drink on the house in honor of Lieutenant Peter Marshall VC, MM&Bar, Croix de Guerre, Mentioned in Dispatches; a real fighting man to which his public house bore evidence. Peter then ordered another round of drinks and proposed a toast to Sharkey another fighting man who had inflicted his share of the damage on this house but was too smart to pay.