The Liri Valley

by Mark Zuehlke

  At 1615 hours, the regiment still waited, with no indication of haste on Weir’s part despite his having been ordered by Snow in the mid-morning to get under way as soon as possible. Although also given to a leisurely pace, this was finally too much for Snow. He called Weir to brigade headquarters and “granted” him a seventy-two-hour rest.31 Major Boyd Somerville assumed command in his absence and quickly got the regiment marching. By now, the little boat used by the Perths was no longer serviceable. Instead, there was a raft that could carry one platoon at a time.

  The raft had been built by pioneers of the 4th Canadian Anti-tank Regiment’s 49th Anti-tank Battery for ferrying their guns across the Liri River. At first, the rafting operation was harassed by a German machine-gun position and two snipers dug in on the opposite shore. After four guns had been floated across, with each crossing drawing fire, Acting Sergeant Hamish Munro of ‘F’ Troop decided to clear off the problem. Commandeering a 6-pounder antitank gun from the Perth Regiment, Munro brought the gun to bear and knocked the machine gun out of action — earning a Military Medal. By 1800 hours, the antitankers had seven 17-pounder guns across the Liri River and turned the raft over to the Highlanders.32

  The Highlanders started crossing at 1910. ‘B’ Company was over by 2055 hours. Three hours later, all the regiment’s rifle companies were west of the Liri River and digging in on the Perths’ left flank.33 Perths commander Lieutenant Colonel Lind had originally been under orders from Snow to continue the attack against Point 119 once the Highlanders were in position. However, now that it was dark, he asked Snow for permission to wait for daylight. The men, he said, had gone with virtually no sleep for forty-eight hours and also had been subsisting on nothing but hard rations and tea. Snow “entirely agreed and issued orders for the further advance at first light.”34

  During their two-day advance from the Melfa River to Ceprano, the Canadians had been engaging the 26th Panzer Division, commanded by Generalleutnant Smilo, Baron von Lüttwitz. Having taken a heavy battering from the French corps on the Canadian left, this division was too depleted to effectively meet 11 CIB’s offensive. The immediate Ceprano area contained only the 150-man-strong 26th Panzer Battalion and a similarly weakened battalion of the 1027th Panzer Grenadier Regiment. Still trying to stem the advancing French tide, von Lüttwitz panicked when the Perth Regiment fought its way into Ceprano. His report to Tenth Army commander Generaloberst Heinrich von Vietinghoff was despairing. “Numerous tanks in assembly positions on the east bank of the Liri indicate that after dark, and when the bridges are ready, the enemy will cross the river with the intention of carrying out an armoured breakthrough along the Via Casilina [Highway 6] on 28 May.”35

  Lacking sufficient armour to block a breakthrough, von Lüttwitz asked for and received permission from von Vietinghoff to withdraw five miles to positions west of Pofi, where the terrain was better suited to defence. At dawn, rearguard units of 26th Panzer Division anxiously awaited the approaching armoured onslaught and were confused when no tanks appeared. Instead, the Perths and Cape Breton Highlanders plodded off at first light for Point 119, finding the Germans had retreated from this objective during the night. Moving forward only a few hundred yards beyond Point 119, the Perth Regiment established a defensive strongpoint straddling Highway 6 northwest of Ceprano. The Highlanders formed up on the Perths’ left flank. Lacking any armoured support, the two regiments dug in.36

  Although the two regiments were on the objective assigned by Hoffmeister for the outer limit of the brigade’s May 28 advance, the major general was angered by the attack’s execution. He called Snow “to say that he was most displeased that Point 119 feature had not been captured the night before and that there was no excuse whatever for not capturing it.” The much-hectored Snow did not defend his actions and continued consolidating his brigade’s grip around Ceprano.37

  The Germans, seeing the infantry pause and not knowing what delayed the expected armoured advance, assumed the many antitank mines they had left in their wake were exacting a hefty toll on the Canadian tankers. It was not mines, however, that stalled the 5th Canadian Armoured Brigade’s regiments. What kept them was the lack of a bridge over the Liri River.38

  Confused staff work at all levels of 5th Canadian Armoured Division’s upper command had significantly delayed construction of the bridge. Although Snow had planned to use a Bailey bridge to transfer his transportation and support vehicles across the Liri River, he had neglected to advise the acting commander of 10th Field Squadron, Royal Canadian Engineers — the sapper unit assigned to support his brigade — of his May 27 attack. This meant it was well into the day before the engineers knew that they should build a bridge. The lack of engineers anywhere near the Liri River had apparently been noted by Hoffmeister during his personal reconnaissance, for he alerted the divisional engineering commander, Lieutenant Colonel Jack Christian, of the situation about midday. Christian immediately went to the river and organized four reconnaissance parties. One, led by Lieutenant G.L. Williamson of 1st Field Squadron, found a suitable site near where the Perths had made their one-boat crossing, which had previously been used by the Germans as a ferry crossing. The river here was 120 feet wide, with 20-foot banks that were nearly vertical on both sides. Bridging such a span required a bridge that was stronger than normal and close to the maximum span possible. After Williamson’s crossing point was approved for use, the lieutenant returned to the river to make more detailed measurements. Taken prisoner by a German patrol while doing measurements on the other side, the lieutenant never returned from his mission. This meant another delay.

  First Field Squadron commander Major R.B. Cameron started organizing his bridging team, but was delayed by mixed orders that had the job on, then off, then back on again “as an insurance.” What bridge 5 CAD intended to use in its place was never clear to the engineers. Only one route was open to the Liri River’s western bank and that was a looping one that ran south of the Isoletta Reservoir and then followed narrow tracks to a crossing of the Sacco River on the Ceprano Station–Ceprano lateral road south of the station. This route was designated for 1st Canadian Infantry Division use and the two bridges required there had just been completed.

  Finally, work began at 2330 hours with completion scheduled for 0900 on May 28. The site was registered by the enemy and subjected to random artillery and mortar fire. This was typical, for German engineers could determine crossing sites and rate their likely priority for suitability as well as any other sappers. Construction appeared to proceed smoothly, however, and by morning the bridge was almost complete. Then came trouble. “Perhaps,” the engineering corps’s historian later wrote, “fatigue, over-eagerness to make good time, and inexperience on operations all contributed to a degree of carelessness.” Whatever the reasons, “as the bridge was pushed across the gap, the launching nose hit the far bank and buckled.” The entire bridge came apart and sank into the river. A fresh troop from 10th Squadron was rushed to the site and began the job over. The second bridge was finally completed at 1730 hours.39 Christian wrote after the event: “This delay caused a change in the Army plan, and has given us a bit of a black eye.”40

  Indeed, the delay and confusion that resulted in the slow start of construction had stalled the entire Eighth Army advance. No bridges existed north of Ceprano for XIII Corps to cross the Liri River. A vast traffic jam built up along Highway 6 and all paralleling roads and tracks as 5 CAD and the 78th British Infantry Division lined up to await the bridge’s completion. Until the bridge was finished, the British were unable to advance to the right of the 11 CIB’s flank and provide the much sought-after, and so rarely found, protection this division was supposed to have provided for the Canadian advance up the entire Liri Valley.41

  Finally, I Canadian Corps commander Lieutenant General Tommy Burns realized that the tankers of 5 CAB could get to Ceprano via the bridges recently completed in the 1st Canadian Infantry Division sector. “I was not quick enough to appreciate the point that while no tank
crossing was available on the right, there was a crossing on the left. There had been a lack of reports on the situation on the front of the 5th Armoured Division. I should have gone up to see for myself how things were when the slowdown became apparent.”42

  The lack of reports on May 28 from 5 CAD to corps headquarters was not unique. Burns’s general staff commander, Brigadier Nick McCarter, had been grousing in his diary for days about the ineffectual work being done by 5 CAD’s headquarters staff. Hoffmeister, roving with his smaller tactical HQ group, had paid scant attention to the broader picture of logistics needed to keep an entire division of almost 20,000 men operating. He left those details to his staff and they were proving woefully incapable. On May 25, McCarter, well aware of the problem, wrote: “It is a hopeless task to try and get any information out of HQ 5 Canadian Division. They are behaving like complete amateurs in many ways. We have to badger them continually about sending back information and even that seldom produces results. If only they would be systematic it would not throw such a strain on them. 5 Div have also been bad about using other people’s routes and not sticking reasonably close to own axis. The staff work in that Div has been lousy.”43

  As a result of the delayed communications, it was not until mid-afternoon that Burns directed Hoffmeister to use the left-flank bridges to get an armoured regiment across the Liri River. Brigadier Desmond Smith, commander of 5th Canadian Armoured Brigade, had been waiting with a strike force comprising the B.C. Dragoons, two companies of the Westminster motorized infantry regiment, and two batteries of self-propelled guns from 4th Canadian Anti-tank Regiment to drive through to Pofi. Now the Dragoons set off on a long trek to a new start position north of the Sacco River and west of Ceprano, arriving there finally at 2100 hours.44

  When the first bridge collapsed, Snow resorted to rafting the entire Irish Regiment across the Liri River. Once the bridge was finally able to handle traffic, he won priority call on its use to shift the brigade’s transport and other supporting elements over to Ceprano. As the first vehicles started up the road past the bridge toward Ceprano, antitank mines began exploding. The Irish Regiment also found themselves afoul of anti-personnel mines as they walked out from the river crossing point.45 Four Irish Regiment soldiers were killed, the first losses the regiment had experienced from mines.46

  Once Snow had his brigade firmly ensconced on the western bank of the Liri, he was pleased to receive a call from Hoffmeister to the effect that 11 CIB would “probably remain in present position for about thirty-six hours before moving on.” Snow conveyed the happy news to his regimental commanders, who passed it down the line. The expectation was that 5 CAB would move through the infantry brigade and carry the advance 1,000 yards beyond Pofi without need of 11 CIB’s support.

  24

  PUSH ON

  Wearing his tunic bearing major’s crowns, David Kinloch had arrived at the forming-up point south of Ceprano well ahead of the British Columbia Dragoon squadrons. He and the other squadron commanders had not much liked the look of the ground they were to cross in the morning. This they made clear at an Orders Group called by Lieutenant Colonel Fred Vokes at 2000 hours on May 28. Kinloch had another more immediate worry — while all the other tank squadrons had arrived, his ‘B’ Squadron was still on the road, apparently lost.1

  Vokes’s briefing confirmed their fears. The ground from Ceprano to Pofi was extremely close and heavily vegetated. Narrow streams running through steeply banked gullies, irrigation ditches, sunken roads, countless twisting tracks and trails, and repeated ridge-backed hills that cut across at right angles to the line of advance rendered the terrain virtually impassable for tanks. Vokes had accordingly been directed by 5th Canadian Armoured Brigade commander Brigadier Desmond Smith to break the armoured regiment into two columns that could “take advantage of any possible route forward which might be found.” Tanks operating alone in such country would invite disaster, so each column was to be supported by a Westminster Regiment company. A battery of 4th Anti-tank Regiment’s self-propelled guns would accompany the columns.2

  Kinloch’s squadron would lead the right column with the Westminsters’ ‘C’ Company in support. This lead element would be followed by ‘A’ and ‘B’ Troops of the 4th Anti-tank Regiment’s 98th Battery, Vokes’s regimental headquarters troop, ‘A’ Squadron, and two bridging tanks to provide crossings as needed. ‘C’ Squadron, with ‘B’ Company of the Westminsters and the 98th Battery’s ‘C’ Troop, would comprise the left column.3 The objective was a north-south ridge midway between Pofi and Arnara. Pofi, a typical Italian hilltop village, was to be secured en route.4 Major Ian Douglas, commander of the Westminsters’ ‘C’ Company, expressed concern that the White scout cars might be unable to keep up with the tanks and even prove incapable of negotiating the terrain at all. “What happens then?” he asked.

  “You get off and bloody walk!” Vokes snapped.5 It was imperative that the infantry keep up with the tanks, he said, while the tanks must not outpace the infantry.6

  Meeting over, Kinloch returned to the empty space where his tanks were supposed to harbour. A section from the reconnaissance troop was out searching the main roads for the missing tanks, but had so far been unsuccessful. Finally, in the early morning hours, the squadron rumbled in. Kinloch’s second-in-command, Captain Bill Malkin, described a nightmarish journey along roads choked with other traffic that finally brought the squadron to a checkpoint manned by British provost officers. The provost officer, confusing them with a retiring British division, had pointed them south instead of north to the reservoir. Soon intermingled with British trucks, Jeeps, and tanks, Malkin realized the mistake, but it had taken hours to unsnarl his tanks from the column and turn them in the right direction. He had been very happy to encounter the reconnaissance Honeys and follow them into the regiment’s tank harbour. With the eastern skyline already brightening, Kinloch briefed his weary tankers.

  Kinloch was pleased with his team, particularly since Captain Barney Finestone had just rejoined the regiment and been posted to his squadron to serve as battle captain. This was a position of pivotal importance to armoured regiments. The battle captain’s chief task was to monitor the regiment’s radio communications, maintaining a continuous link between the squadron commander, up forward with the squadron’s fighting troops, and the regimental commander. It was a tough job at the best of times and in the close Italian terrain, where the always troublesome radio sets were prone to interference, the job was even more complicated. Then there was the sheer patience a B.C. Dragoon battle captain had to show when being constantly hectored by Vokes with orders or demands for information.7

  Dawn of May 29 heralded another dry, sweltering day. The two columns advanced at 0500 hours and immediately encountered delays caused by the terrain and presence of antitank and antipersonnel mines dug into the tracks or scattered across many of the small fields. After about a mile, Kinloch’s squadron came to the Fornelli River, a tributary of the Sacco River. The bridge had been blown and a delay ensued while one of the bridging tanks was brought up. It was 0620 hours before the column lurched off again.8

  Both columns were subjected to sporadic shelling. The Sherman used by the B.C. Dragoons’ regimental HQ troop commander, Lieutenant Gordon Lyle Mortenson, was damaged by an exploding shell. Taking command of another Sherman, Mortenson advanced only fifty yards before a mine tore off its track. Unable to raise the regiment’s second-in-command, Major Ira Secord, on the radio, Mortenson walked over to the major’s tank. Standing in front of the Sherman, he waved his arms and shouted to try to catch Secord’s eye. Talking on his radio, Secord failed to see the officer and ordered his driver to advance. The tank ground forward, bashed into Mortenson and drove right over him. Fortunately, he fell between the tracks. Although shaken, he was unhurt.9

  The right-hand column, stretched out in single file, straggled onward as the lead troop paused to clear one obstacle after another. The Westminsters, as predicted by Major Douglas, were having a terrifi
cally hard time keeping up with the tanks. Scout cars were becoming mired in ditches, high-centred on stumps, logs, and rocks, and even tipping over into gullies when chunks of the roads fell away. Some sections were left to follow on foot and others found alternative routes that the cars could negotiate, while most continued to doggedly follow Kinloch’s tanks.

  B.C. Dragoons’ ‘C’ Squadron on the left flank made only slightly better progress, while facing much the same terrain and the presence of mines and other obstacles barring paths. Ahead of the main column, Honeys from the reconnaissance troop and Bren carriers from the Westminsters’ scout platoon raced up and down the many tracks to find the best forward route. The scouts also probed for pockets of German resistance, but so far none had been located. It appeared the Germans had withdrawn from east of Pofi. Finally, the Westminsters’ ‘B’ Company got permission to advance ahead of the tanks and test the German defence of the town. The infantry drove off in their White scout cars, leaving the tanks behind.10

  At 0840 hours, the right-hand column reached the Meringo River, another Sacco tributary. Typically, the bridge had been destroyed. Where the bridge had been, the river was too wide and the banks too steep for the remaining bridging tank to deploy.11 Kinloch halted the column at the river’s edge while the reconnaissance troop searched for a crossing point. Stuck back in the column, Vokes was unable to see the extent of the problem. He kept carping at Kinloch via Captain Finestone. Whether short or long, his messages were all of a type. “Push on!” or “Why the hell are you not pushing on?” Patient detailing of the situation brought only temporary silence from the rear. Fifteen minutes or so later, it was “Push on!” or “Why the hell are you not pushing on?” all over again.

  Kinloch wanted to push on. The last thing he wanted was to have his squadron milling about for hours on the grassy shoreline of Meringo River under sporadic German shelling and mortaring. But there was no damn crossing. Finally, at 1515 hours, the reconnaissance troop discovered a crossing point that would suffice and the column moved. Once there, the tankers kept their engines running. This, combined with the heavy radio traffic plugging the radio net and the static that garbled transmissions, made it difficult for Kinloch to send or receive communications. Despite having his headphones on to monitor the radio, the major became aware of a commotion near the side of his tank. Looking down, he saw Finestone lying on a stretcher and being loaded onto a Jeep ambulance. Unable to raise Kinloch on the radio, he had run over to the major’s tank to pass on Vokes’s latest urgent message personally. Just as he reached Kinloch’s tank, an exploding shell had riddled his back with shrapnel. Kinloch thought the message, never to be delivered, had probably instructed him to “Push on as soon as the bridge is in place.” Now his battle captain was badly wounded, probably for no good reason.12