by Mark Zuehlke
In the mid-morning, the German tanks on the hills struck in unison from both directions. Major Sydney Radley-Walters had fifteen ‘A’ Squadron tanks of the Sherbrooke Fusiliers on Hill 67 overlooking the Cameron position. He saw the tanks about six hundred yards off, but through the rain was unable to identify them as friend or foe. The rain had also cut the effective range of his wireless so drastically he could barely communicate with his own tanks. Finally, peering through binoculars, Radley-Walters made out the distinctive low turret profile of Panthers—six in one group, eight the other, and separated by about three hundred yards. ‘A’ Squadron opened fire and the Germans replied. For the next hour, the two sides traded shots. One Sherman was knocked out, but the Germans appeared unscathed.
To break the impasse, Radley-Walters decided to go on the offensive. He ordered smoke shells fired to screen a move by the two Shermans of No. 1 Troop to the orchard north of Saint-André. Once among the trees, this troop fired smoke to cover an advance by seven tanks led by Radley-Walters past the northeastern edge of the village. When the smokescreen thinned momentarily, one tank was knocked out crossing the main road through Saint-André. The rest, however, reached a position from where they could engage the Germans from three sides. “With the battle raging in [‘A’ Squadron’s] favour,” the shootout continued until 1430 hours, when Radley-Walters counted eight Panthers knocked out in exchange for five Sherbrooke tanks. But where he had positioned six tanks on the northeastern flank of Saint-André, the situation “was becoming perilous.” Two Shermans had been knocked out, the turrets of two more were jammed, and the crew commander in another had been killed. German infantry were attacking with Panzerfausts from just twenty-five yards distant.
Firing more smoke shells to cover his movement, Radley-Walters led three tanks to the rescue. As they closed in, the German infantry fled, and the surviving Panthers withdrew. At 1800 hours, a troop of tanks from ‘B’ Squadron arrived to relieve ‘A’ Squadron, which had just six operational tanks remaining.15
‘A’ Squadron’s intervention had prevented the Germans from using their tanks to support their infantry in overrunning the Camerons. But in two days’ fighting, the Camerons had suffered eighty-one casualties, twenty-nine fatal.16
THERE WERE NO tanks supporting the Fusiliers of ‘C’ Company still clinging to Troteval Farm in the late afternoon of July 21. Nor was there any prospect of reinforcement. Lieutenant Colonel Guy Gauvreau had too few men in the two companies dug in to the north of Beauvoir and Troteval Farms to possibly break through to Troteval. The only thing keeping ‘C’ Company alive was the artillery called down by the FOO, Captain Smith. Major Mousseau and he agreed that unless soon reinforced, the company was doomed.
None of Mousseau’s wireless sets worked, but Smith’s Nos. 18 and 19 sets functioned. He had 4th Field Regiment rout him through to 6th Brigade and begged for “an additional company of infantry or even better, the reserve battalion.” The farm could be held, the day saved. No help was offered. Smith felt as if nobody at brigade “appreciated the importance of reinforcing ‘C’ Company’s success.”
They had already repelled four counterattacks. The company was down to just seventeen men, twelve of them, including Mousseau, wounded. Breaking out with so many injured was impossible. Ammunition was disappearing, all PIAT bombs already gone.
As the fifth attack came in, Smith cut down many SS panzer grenadiers with artillery, but others just kept coming, forming up behind and alongside German tanks that looked to Smith like Tigers. Mousseau and Smith decided to play their last card. ‘C’ Company was dug into deep slit trenches. The Germans were in the open. Smith ordered artillery on top of Troteval Farm. Shrapnel and blast scythed through the German infantry, while the Fusiliers remained safe in their holes. When the shells lifted, through the slowly dissipating smoke Smith saw the ground blanketed with dead and wounded panzer grenadiers. But the Tigers still prowled unharmed through the farm. Mousseau told Smith the Fusiliers either surrendered or died needlessly.
Smith agreed, but said he was going to make a break for it with the artillery carrier. Bombardier Chris May jumped behind the controls, only to discover the rain had shorted out the engine. May opened the engine compartment and started trying to fix the problem. Smith considered escaping by crawling through the tall grain. Rolling his binoculars inside a raincoat, Smith buried the bundle in the mud of a slit trench to lighten his load. Smith expected to be back. He would recover the binoculars then.
Suddenly, the engine started. Smith and signaller Bombardier John Clark hopped on, and May stepped on the accelerator. Smith had called down a final artillery concentration to cover the escape attempt, and the carrier plunged through the exploding shells. Apparently not deigning to fire the massive 88-millimetre main gun at such an insignificant target, the Tigers raked it with co-axial machine guns. White powder flew all around. Smith’s first thought was phosphorous, a horrible image of burning to death. Bits of meat and flesh seemed to be spattering everywhere. Then the carrier was hurtling down the slope, the farm well behind.
Smith saw that a large tin of powdered hardtack was riddled with bullet holes. The contents had been the white powder. A PIAT ammunition box welded to the carrier’s front, which had been loaded with tins of bully beef and stew, had also been ruptured and its contents had “splattered gruesomely over everything.” The carrier’s armoured sides were chipped by countless bullet strikes.
When the carrier reached Gauvreau’s position, Smith advised him of ‘C’ Company’s surrender.17 Gauvreau walked among the remaining Fusiliers dug in on the slope four hundred yards north of Beauvoir Farm. They stayed here no matter what, he said. This was the base from which the farms would be retaken. The Fusiliers had suffered traumatic losses in men and leaders, but they knew their performance had shown “bravery and determination.”18 Gauvreau had earned a Distinguished Service Order, gunner Smith a Military Cross.
THE BLACK WATCH attacked at 1800 hours, behind a creeping barrage and with the tank support that could have prevented the South Saskatchewan and Essex Scottish disasters. The Sherbrooke’s ‘B’ Squadron was on one flank, ‘A’ Squadron of the 1st Hussars the other.
Private W.T. Booth and two other Black Watch intelligence section members assigned to establish an observation post on the objective walked alongside one of the tanks. Every few seconds its 75-millimetre gun boomed, the noise making it impossible for Booth to hear the incoming German shells that were being dropped behind the barrage. But he could see its effects, particularly when Lance Corporal Roderick Hudson was “thrown into the air by a mortar bomb” and killed. “Yet the entire attack, which didn’t last long, had an air of unreality, as if it were a movie I was watching. When we had taken the hill, this feeling vanished in the shock of seeing Canadian dead, the Essex Scottish, lying on the ground. Seeing Hudson fall did not have the effect on me of seeing [the] sleeve patch of the Second Division on the uniforms of those killed.”19
When the infantry came under intense mortar and machine-gun fire, the 1st Hussars dashed forward to help their “little friends” and moved directly in the line of fire of several anti-tank guns. Lieutenant “Alabama” Correy’s tank brewed, and he and Trooper J.A. Brown suffered severe burns. Then Lieutenant Aisbitt’s Sherman was knocked out. Everyone escaped unharmed, but while taking cover, Trooper R.A. Wallwin was wounded by a mortar shell. Lieutenant C.A. Mills lost his tank, while that commanded by Sergeant Inglis had its hull split open by two high-explosive strikes. Having lost an eye, Sergeant Payne continued to command his tank until the squadron withdrew.20
The Black Watch advance made such good progress that the battalion pushed past Point 61 and to the crossroads where the Essex Scottish had broken.21 The successful operation placed the Black Watch to the right of the Fusiliers facing Beauvoir Farm and straightened 6th Brigade’s front with three battalions astride or close to the Saint-André–Hubert-Folie road.
Stabilizing this line effectively closed Operation Atlantic. Both 3
rd and 2nd Divisions had suffered heavy losses over four days, but the latter division’s casualties were shocking. For its part, 3rd Division counted 386 casualties, 89 fatal. For 2nd Division the price was 1,149 with 254 men dead. Hardest hit had been the Essex Scottish and South Saskatchewans. The Essex Scottish reported 2 44 casualties, of which 37 were dead.22 Included in the Essex figure were 102 men taken prisoner.23 No casualty totals for Les Fusiliers Mont-Royal were recorded. Given the loss of two companies, it is probable that this French-Canadian unit suffered comparable casualties.
WHAT HAD BEEN achieved? A greater lodgement on the east side of the Orne that left more room to prepare another offensive without being so tightly constricted around Caen, one Canadian analysis offered. That and the continuation of tying down German armoured divisions in front of British Second Army. Three full Panzer divisions—1st SS, 12th SS, and 21st—along with battle groups of 2nd and 9th SS Panzer Divisions, were fixed here. From the Canadian view, the report added, Atlantic had “prepared the way for the operations to be mounted by First [Canadian] Army, which would [now drive] the enemy out of the country between Caen and Falaise.”24
Simonds had bet wrongly that Operation Goodwood would cripple the Germans in front of II Canadian Corps and a breakout would be easily attained. Instead, the Germans had deftly blocked 2nd Division’s assault and mauled four infantry regiments. July 20 had been a disaster for 6th Brigade. Although subsequent reports claiming that the South Saskatchewan and Essex Scottish Regiments had fled in disorder were false, their losses were such that both would require major rebuilding before they could fight again.
The Saskatchewan attack had been conceptually flawed. Simonds and Young both erred in assuming tanks supporting the battalions on the flanks would be able to also protect the Sasks in the centre. As Major Radley-Walters later told the Sasks’ Major John Edmonson, his ‘A’ Squadron near Hill 67 had neither line of sight to the centre nor any instruction to support the battalion there. “We never fired a round in support of you,” he said.25 The tanks on the left were few in number and mostly knocked out early in the fight for Beauvoir and Troteval Farms.
In February 1944, Simonds had emphasized in a II Corps operational policy statement that success in an attack hinged on defeating the inevitable counterattacks after an objective was won. Meeting these counterattacks had to “form part of the original plan of attack.”26 But the Sasks, the Fusiliers, and then the Essex Scottish were given no opportunity to prepare to repel the armour-infantry counterattacks. The Fusiliers were inadequately supported by seven tanks from ‘C’ Squadron, which were greatly outnumbered. And except for anti-tank guns, knocked out before they had time to bring their weapons into action, the Saskatchewan and Essex regiments were not equipped to fight tanks. Their fate was sealed the moment the Panzers broke into their midst.
Not that Simonds, Major General Charles Foulkes, or Brigadier Young were prepared to accept any blame. On July 22, Foulkes took Edmondson aside.27 “Who gave you the authority to withdraw? Why didn’t you stay and dig in on your objective? Why have you lost all of your automatic weapons and other equipment?” were some of the questions Foulkes threw at the Saskatchewan major.
Keeping calm, Edmondson replied that the battalion had been caught in the open field objective by an immediate tank counterattack that rolled right over it. Nobody had time to dig in. The men with automatic weapons were killed. There was no communications, no tank support, no artillery support, and the anti-tank guns were knocked out immediately. Edmondson considered his remaining duty was to save lives, so he ordered the withdrawal.
Foulkes offered no response but ordered a Court of Enquiry in the Field to investigate the loss of weapons by both the Saskatchewan and the Essex Scottish regiments.28 It was held on August 2. Evidence presented by the few surviving Saskatchewan officers painted a compelling picture of a battalion torn asunder but wherein isolated elements fell back in stages with hope of reaching a position that could be held.
After extensive testimony by officers of both regiments, the court exonerated the Essex of any neglect and concluded that the “excessive loss of stores” by the Sasks “was largely due to the manner in which the withdrawal was carried out.” The court added, however, that the losses were at least partly due to the tank counterattack. While refusing to speculate on whether the Saskatchewan withdrawal had been premature, the court emphasized that there was “no armour support for the infantry.”29
The court’s exoneration of the Essex Scottish came too late to save Macdonald. He was relieved on July 22.30 A respected Windsor lawyer, Macdonald had ten years’ experience as a militia officer with the Essex before the war. He had led a company at Dieppe and then became the battalion’s second-in-command. In May 1943, Macdonald took over command. His promotion had been welcomed by the Essex intelligence officer, Lieutenant Fred Tilston, who commented effusively in the war diary on Macdonald’s qualifications, experience, and knowledge of training.31
On July 22, Tilston was still maintaining the war diary and could not bear to mention Macdonald’s relief. Perhaps he hoped it was a temporary measure. But he unhesitatingly expressed his feelings about the debacle. “It is not a pleasant picture to realize that so many of the [battalion] have been lost, especially when the action was not successful and many of the casualties could have been avoided by better planning and the observance of the procedure that our [training] had led us to believe would be followed before going into battle. All the rules of man management were either violated or ignored, by the sudden move ordered after midnight, the loss of sleep by all ranks, a poor breakfast and little or no noon meal before battle, and the general or detailed picture and plan, if known, was not given to the junior officers or troops.”32
Macdonald made a concerted, ultimately doomed effort to rescue his reputation and that of the regiment he loved. But Young stood behind the criticisms set out in a blistering report that accused Macdonald of failing to control his men and losing their confidence. Young also alleged that Macdonald had displayed such nervousness that he appeared to have suffered a breakdown. Generally, he had demonstrated unsuitability for command.
When every man in the regiment signed a petition supporting Macdonald, it was ignored. Before he left them, many assured Macdonald of their belief in him and declared he was being “unjustly punished.”33 But Young had found someone to blame. Without that, questions might have been raised that exposed his own poor handling of the attack. The brigade war diary asserted that upon receiving the second appeal from the Sasks for tank support, Young had ordered the reserve Sherbrooke squadron and a troop from ‘A’ Squadron to their aid.34 There is no record anywhere else of this order—not in the Sherbrooke war diary, their after-action report on Operation Atlantic, or in the brigade operational logs. The brigade war diary blamed all the losses on German mortar and artillery fire. Never was it noted that the Saskatchewan and Essex regiments were overwhelmed by tanks or that the Fusiliers suffered almost the same fate.
Young’s assertions were accepted without comment by Foulkes and Simonds. But then the 6th Brigade assault plan had come from them. So Macdonald made a convenient scapegoat for all.
RECRIMINATIONS REGARDING ATLANTIC and Goodwood echoed throughout the Allied command chain. So much had been expected, yet the result disappointed all. SHAEF Supreme Commander General Dwight D. Eisenhower and many of his senior officers felt Montgomery had failed them. “A few days ago, when armored divisions of Second Army, assisted by a tremendous air attack, broke through the enemy’s forward lines, I was extremely hopeful and optimistic. I thought that at last we had him and were going to roll him up. That did not come about,” Eisenhower wrote Montgomery.
Despite British manpower shortages, Eisenhower demanded that Second Army continue winning more ground on the Allied eastern flank. “Eventually the American ground strength will necessarily be much greater than the British. But while we have equality in size we must go forward shoulder to shoulder with honors and sacrifices equall
y shared.” Eisenhower was clearly implying that the British-Canadian forces were “not pulling their weight.”35
Plans were already afoot for a renewed attack, wherein II Canadian Corps took centre stage. As Operation Atlantic had reached its sad climax, Simonds and Second Army’s Lieutenant General Myles Dempsey were discussing Operation Spring—aimed at ensuring that the Germans continued to concentrate their armoured divisions on Second Army’s front.
While Goodwood and Atlantic had failed their purposes, they had left the Germans certain that the greatest threat of an Allied breakout was here. But the Americans were poised to begin the real Allied breakout—Operation Cobra—at Saint-Lô. Like Goodwood, Cobra was to be preceded by a massive aerial bombardment. The rains that had transformed Verrières Ridge into a quagmire had also grounded the Allied bombers. When the skies cleared, which was not predicted to occur for several more days, Cobra would proceed.
While the rain continued, however, it was necessary to keep the Germans engaged. Thus Operation Spring—not a breakout attempt but instead “a holding attack.” And to give II Canadian Corps more punch, Dempsey gave Simonds 7th Armoured and the Guards Armoured divisions. There would be three phases. In phase one, 2nd and 3rd Canadian Infantry Divisions, supported by 2nd Canadian Armoured Brigade, would seize a line along the crest of Verrières Ridge running from May-sur-Orne through Verrières to Tilly-la-Campagne. This involved an advance of about a mile across a four-mile-wide front. If this attack succeeded, phase two would commence, in which 7th Armoured Division would charge over the ridge to gain the commanding heights of Point 122 near Cramesnil. This feature, also known as Cramesnil Spur, was about three miles beyond the phase one objectives. Also during phase two, 3rd Canadian Division would advance a further mile. If all went well, phase three would see the British armour push south along the Caen-Falaise highway to Cintheaux or even farther. This was the broad outline that Dempsey gave Simonds on July 22, but the specifics of Operation Spring were his to arrange.36