by Mark Zuehlke
THE
LIRI VALLEY
THE
LIRI VALLEY
CANADA’S WORLD WAR II BREAKTHROUGH TO ROME
MARK ZUEHLKE
Copyright © 2001 by Mark Zuehlke
First paperback edition 2003
First US edition published in 2004
03 04 05 06 07 5 4 3 2 1
This book was published originally by Stoddart Publishing.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written consent of the publisher or a licence from The Canadian Copyright Licensing Agency (Access Copyright). For a copyright licence, visit www.accesscopyright.ca or call toll free to 1-800-893-5777.
Douglas & McIntyre
2323 Quebec Street, Suite 201
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National Library of Canada Cataloguing in Publication Data
Zuehlke, Mark
The Liri Valley: Canada’s World War II breakthrough to Rome / Mark Zuehlke.
Includes bibliographical references and index.
ISBN 1-55365-013-1
1. World War, 1939-1945—Campaigns—Italy—Liri River Valley.
2. Canada. Canadian Army—History—World War, 1939–1945. I. Title.
D763.I82L57 2003 940.54'21562 C2003-910549-0
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication data is available.
Cover design by Peter Cocking
Cover photograph by Strathy Smith, NAC, PA-169121
Part title photograph by Daniel Crack
Interior design and typesetting by Kinetics Design & Illustration
Printed and bound in Canada by Friesens
Printed on acid-free paper
Distributed in the U.S. by Publishers Group West
The publisher gratefully acknowledges the financial support of the Canada Council for the Arts, the British Columbia Arts Council, and the Government of Canada through the Book Publishing Industry Development Program (BPIDP) for its publishing activities.
War, which used to be cruel and magnificent,
has now become cruel and squalid.
— Winston Churchill
Of what use is decisive victory in battle
if we bleed to death as a result of it?
— Liddell Hart
Hey, Willy. You’re going back
in a box if you don’t watch out.
— Sergeant Bill Worton, Seaforth Highlanders of Canada
CONTENTS
Preface
Acknowledgements
Maps
Introduction: The Road to the Liri Valley
ONE / Prelude to Operation Diadem
1 Military Sins
2 The Unwanted Canadians
3 Baptism of Fire
4 Frustrated Ambitions
5 Deceptions
TWO / The Gustav Line
6 A Just and Righteous Cause
7 An Unholy Balls-Up
8 A Most Satisfactory Day
9 One Could Not Afford to Grieve
10 It Is Stiff Fighting
11 The Fog of War
THREE / The Hitler Line
12 Don’t Let It Get You Down, Chum
13 Where Are You Going Like That, Little Pot?
14 Operation Chesterfield
15 It’s Sheer Murder
16 The Hardest Thing to Watch
17 Those Were Fine Boys
18 An Honour to Die
19 A Gruesome Task
FOUR / The Pursuit
20 Punch
21 Our Somewhat Weary Shoulders
22 Be Very, Very Careful
23 A Bit of a Black Eye
24 Push On
25 Viva il Canadese
Epilogue: Valley of Loss
Appendix A: Eighth Army Order of Battle
Appendix B: Canadians at the Liri Valley
Appendix C: Canadian Infantry Battalion
(Typical Organization)
Appendix D: Canadian Military Order of Rank
Appendix E: German Military Order of Rank
Appendix F: The Decorations
Glossary of Common Canadian Military Terms and Weaponry
Notes
Bibliography
General Index
Index of Formations, Units, and Corps
PREFACE
Since publication of Ortona: Canada’s Epic World War II Battle in 1999, I have been blessed with ever more contacts within the small community of the remaining Canadian veterans of the World War II Italian Campaign. As was true of that first work in what is now to be a trilogy on this long, brutal, and costly campaign, this book would not have been possible without their contribution. It is their ability and willingness to reach back across the span of almost a lifetime to recount often painful wartime experiences that enriches the pages here. In letters, personal interviews, e-mail correspondence, and telephone calls, they provided the vivid details that — sifted together with the official records, regimental war diaries and official histories, autobiographies and biographies, and other archival materials — enabled depiction of the combat experienced by Canadians in the Liri Valley in the spring of 1944.
There is a school of thought in the study of military history that advocates the belief that veteran memories, filtered as they are by the span of time, are suspect. Accordingly, the only fact that can be relied upon is that provided by the official records and histories — particularly where veteran memory contradicts such sources. Yet anyone delving into the official histories will find that the record is quite often muddled and contradicted by the accounts filed by soldiers at the time and by the many day-to-day records contained in the regimental war diaries. The “fog of war” becomes particularly thick during the furtive, desperate days when a great battle is under way and often the paperwork that ultimately becomes the basis for the official record is not completed until days or weeks after the event. Often, too, officers stationed well back of the fighting lines wrote these records with only passing consultation with the men who had been in combat.
So where is truth? The official record or the memories of the veterans? Each writer plunging into the writing of military history ultimately develops a personal, somewhat unscientific, process for filtering information. Mine involved using a fair degree of gut instinct and cross-checking supposed facts wherever possible. When two or three veterans said the same thing and this contradicted the official record, it seemed to me logical that these old soldiers, who had been there when the bullets and shrapnel were flying around them, were most likely telling the story truthfully. It should be particularly noted that I have yet to find a veteran who showered himself in glory and heroism. Most are modest to a fault about their own role in events.
For those caught in its maw, war is a terrifying and intensely mind-focusing experience. Sensations are heightened as the adrenaline courses through the body and memories were so deeply seared into the mind of many veterans that they will never be forgotten. It has been a source of amazement to me to discuss the fighting in the Liri Valley with a veteran and have him provide a precise time reference down to the virtual minute at which something pivotal occurred. Go back to the official war diaries and the veteran’s time reference is seldom out and, if so, by no more than a minute or two.
I found that where a veteran was unsure of something, or simply could not remember, he invariably informed me of the fact. “I don’t remember the details of this event” was a fairly common response to my oral or written questions. Often a battle had been so intense and prolonged that the events became a jumble or, as they often stated, “a blur.” Yet through this haze of time, m
any incidents were starkly illuminated in their descriptions. Pierre Potvin’s horrific, yet selfeffacingly humorous, account of his suffering multiple wounds on the edge of the Hitler Line. Tony Kingsmill standing next to his experimental bridge at the Gari River and watching a flow of terribly injured young Indian soldiers stream past on their way to the rear. Tankers, like David Kinloch, seeing friends and comrades perish inside the burning wreckage of Sherman tanks. Those are the types of memories reflected in this book.
Finally, it should be noted that the many stories regarding the experiences of individual veterans related here normally align closely with the official accounts. Where there is discrepancy, I have endeavoured to verify details with other veterans or other historical source material. Seldom have I found a veteran in error and normally this was limited to mixing up dates and precise locations. Usually I have been able to locate sufficient other accounts by veterans or source material to enable the creation of an accurate depiction of events. Where the official record and that of veterans conflicted dramatically, I have more often trusted the veteran accounts. They lived the battle, buried comrades in its aftermath, and carried the scars of the physical and emotional wounds suffered there for the rest of their lives.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
The veterans who contributed to this book are listed in the bibliography and it is to all of them that I owe the greatest thanks. I would, however, like to single out a few for specific recognition. Without Tony Poulin’s meticulous translation of letters and accounts written by Pierre Potvin, that soldier’s incredible ordeal before the Hitler Line would not be included here. Strome Galloway was always gracious and quick to respond to my queries on many topics. Victor Bulger, John Dougan, Stan Kanik, David Kinloch, Charles Prieur, and Frederick Ritchie were equally helpful and patient. Bill Worton served as a guide to other veterans in Vancouver. In a lengthy written account of his experiences, Donald Reid provided many details about the rear-area operations of a tank regiment that greatly broadened my understanding of armoured operations in Italy. Unfortunately, space limits did not allow inclusion of much of his material, but it is now deposited at the Museum of the Regiments in Calgary and will be a boon to other researchers.
The Battle of the Liri Valley was the first corps-scale engagement fought by Canadians in World War II. In its wake, military personnel generated many thousands of pages of reports, analyses, and accounts. The archivists and contacts in the regimental associations who helped me ferret out much of this valuable information are too numerous to mention all by name. Special thanks, however, to Tony Walters of the Rocky Mountain Rangers and Howard Hisdal of the British Columbia Dragoons. Thanks also to Dr. Steve Harris and others at the Department of National Defence, Directorate of History and Heritage, staff at the National Archives of Canada, Debbie Lindsey at the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation’s Radio Archives, Chris Petter and the two Terrys at the University of Victoria’s Special Collections, and Benoit Cameron at Royal Military College’s Massey Library.
In Italy, Oreste Schiano di Zenise of Naples helped greatly with initial logistics and it was unfortunate that a communication glitch foiled our attempts to actually meet in Cassino. Federico Lamberti reorganized his business schedule to show me around Cassino and described many aspects of the battle that I had not previously encountered. The staff at Cassino’s La Pace hotel went out of their way to provide a friendly environment to a Canadian researcher who spoke terrible Italian and was always asking another question about how to get somewhere or other or needing to send another e-mail.
Dr. Bill McAndrew supplied many useful contacts and information on various aspects of the Italian campaign. Alex McQuarrie in Ottawa helped greatly with enabling me to contact both Italians and Canadian veterans. He also hosted a great dinner with Strome Galloway and Tony Poulin for company. Major Michael Boire, now a professor at Royal Military College, offered valuable advice on what to look for during my battlefield tour.
I am privileged to once more have Elizabeth McLean as my manuscript editor and to work again with Don Bastian and Jim Gifford at Stoddart. Literary agent Carolyn Swayze continues to work her magic on the contractual and financial side of keeping this writer’s career viable. I am blessed to have the companionship and support, both at home and, happily, also this time in Italy, of Frances Backhouse.
INTRODUCTION
THE ROAD TO
THE LIRI VALLEY
On July 10, 1943, some 26,000 Canadians landed on the beaches at Pachino, the southernmost point of Sicily. The Canadians were part of a massive invasion force mounted by two armies — the United States Seventh Army and the British Eighth Army. In one day, the invasion force established a solid toehold inside the Axis’s much vaunted Fortress Europe. First Canadian Infantry Division and 1st Canadian Army Tank Brigade served in the British Eighth Army alongside not just British troops but also New Zealanders, South Africans, Indians, and Poles. However, the Canadians were new to this army, which had recently won the long, bitter North African campaign. While Eighth Army had fought in the desert wastelands, these Canadians had languished along with 465,000 of their compatriots in Britain.
First, the Canadians had waited to repel a German invasion that never came. Then they had waited for the Allied invasion of Western Europe, which often seemed as illusory as Hitler’s never-launched invasion of Britain — Operation Sea Lion. They trained, they drank, they went sightseeing, they fell in love and married British women, they fathered children. What they did not do was fight. Except for one dreadful day on August 19, 1942, when a largely Canadian force landed at Dieppe, France, and was cut to pieces on the beaches, leaving 907 Canadians dead and 1,946 as prisoners of war after surrendering.
After Dieppe, it would have been understandable if Canadians had been content to have their soldiers spared the inevitable costs of battle. But public opinion clamoured all the louder for its army to fight. The government shared this sentiment, as did most of Canada’s military leaders. Pressure was brought to bear to commit Canadians to the Sicily venture. Britain, somewhat reluctantly, acceded.
The campaign in Sicily was over in thirty-eight days. During those days, Canadians marched 130 miles, fought several small, fierce engagements, and took 2,310 casualties. Of these, 562 died and most were buried in a Canadians-only cemetery outside the village of Agira in Sicily’s sun-scorched interior. Originally, it had been expected that after Sicily the Canadians would return to Britain, but new plans were afoot. British Prime Minister Winston Churchill believed Sicily could serve as the launching point for a greater venture, the invasion of Italy. In Italy, he argued, the Allies would find Fortress Europe’s soft underbelly. It might even be possible to drive right up the Italian boot and plunge into Austria, bringing a swift conclusion to the war.
When, on September 3, Eighth Army invaded Italy by crossing the Strait of Messina, Canadian troops led the way. The Italian army, already bloodied and beaten by its defeats in North Africa and Sicily, collapsed. On September 8, Italy surrendered, but German divisions rushed in to fill the gap and the rapid advance up the Italian boot that Churchill had envisioned deteriorated into a blood-soaked slog. Eighth Army followed dusty roads up the eastern coast between the Apennine Mountains and the Adriatic Sea. On the west, the American Fifth Army advanced north from Salerno up the Tyrrhenian coast. Progress for both was slow, as the German opposition proved cunningly deployed and tenaciously offered.
In November, both armies tried to crack through stiffening German resistance centred on two great defensive lines. To the west, the Americans hammered into the Gustav Line. To the east, Eighth Army tackled the Bernhard Line. Rome was the prize each army sought and, with the rains of winter rapidly approaching, all involved knew time was running out. The Americans made virtually no headway, their attacks broken against the solid defensive wall of the Gustav Line, which was anchored by the incredible defensive bastion of Monte Cassino.
Eighth Army battered a crossing over the Sangro River, forcing the Germans to f
all back a few miles to the Moro River. Here the Canadians took the lead, fighting a vicious slugging match against the elite 90th Panzer Grenadier and 1st Parachute divisions. From December 6 to January 4, the battle raged. The Moro River, Villa Rogatti, San Leonardo, Casa Berardi, Cider Crossroads, The Gully, and Ortona became battle honours for the regiments engaged at each place. The eight-day street battle between the German paratroops and the Loyal Edmonton Regiment, the Seaforth Highlanders of Canada, and the Three Rivers Tank Regiment was one of the most intense and costly battles ever fought by Canadian soldiers. At month’s end, 2,339 Canadians were casualties and 502 of these had been killed.
Even as this great battle was playing out in the mud and rain, more Canadians were arriving to join the war in Italy. No longer did the government believe a single infantry division and an armoured brigade represented sufficient Canadian participation in the Italian campaign. The fall of 1943 had been spent lobbying for British agreement to an expanded Canadian role. In November, I Canadian Corps was formed and brought into the strength of Eighth Army. In late winter, the corps would become fully operational, comprising veterans of the 1st Canadian Infantry Division and the 1st Canadian Armoured Brigade, as well as the newly arrived 5th Canadian Armoured Division. By the end of 1943, about 75,000 Canadians were in Italy, including the many support personnel necessary to keep an entire corps operational.
With the approach of spring, the Allies desperately sought to find a way to break the deadly impasse in which they had been mired for months, as on either side of the Apennine Mountains each army had fruitlessly attempted to sever the heavily fortified German lines. The Canadians had spent a bitter winter just north of Ortona engaged in costly but futile patrols and probing attacks without purpose. General Harold Alexander, Deputy Supreme Commander Mediterranean, decided the only solution was to break through the Gustav Line on the western coast. To do so, he would require the combined strength of his two armies. Plans were developed to shift the majority of Eighth Army west in time for a massive assault across the width of the Gustav Line from Monte Cassino to the sea.