by Matthew Hall
Herford’s task after the battle was again to tour the battlefield and clear up the carnage which remained. In the town of El Alamein itself the flies were so thick in the air that they blackened the doors of houses. They blackened everything. He recorded that he could never have imagined that there existed so many flies in the world. In the early months of 1943 Herford became increasingly frustrated at the relative inactivity of his existence providing medical services for an army in the Western Desert which was no longer fighting. After the defeat of Rommel at El Alamein, the focus of attention switched to Tunisia, where Operation Torch, the first Anglo-American landings of the war, was underway.
By May 1943 North Africa belonged to the Allies, but Herford was keen to get back to the forefront of the action. In April he was moved to No. 200 Field Ambulance, which involved further sorties into the desert, but the Commanding Officer of the unit, Robby Robinson, was almost fresh out from his War Office job in Whitehall, and had very little idea about the desert. Herford was therefore greatly relieved when he learned they were to be part of the invasion force going to Sicily.
His unit left North Africa on 4 July 1943.
CHAPTER 7
SICILY
Herford set sail for Sicily in a more confident mood than two years previously when he had been part of the ill-fated Greek expedition. Bolstered by the Americans, and with the Germans in increasing difficulty, he was fully confident that this expedition would be a successful one. The 200 Field Ambulance was attached to 231 (Malta) Brigade as an independent group. They would share the same supplies, but their commands would be separate. Herford was grateful for this, desiring as much autonomy as he could obtain. The expedition to Sicily was the precursor to the Italian invasion and the beginning of the battle for the continent of Europe. In mid-1943 the bulk of the German forces were concentrated on the Eastern front, and although amongst the Allies the Soviets had the most powerful artillery and infantry, Churchill and General Eisenhower decided that efforts should be concentrated into diverting some of the German forces away from the Eastern front to enable the Soviets to finally overcome their attackers. Italy was the obvious choice for an invasion as Allied troops could be moved relatively swiftly across the Mediterranean from North Africa, and Sicily was to be used for a dry run to measure the level of resistance which might be met with on the mainland.
Operation Husky, as the Sicilian invasion was named, involved 3,000 ships and landing craft carrying nearly 160,000 men, 14,000 vehicles, 600 tanks and 1,800 guns; an immense logistical undertaking from which many lessons were learned for the future invasion of Normandy.
The Germans knew that invasion was coming, but were short both on men and morale. On 20 May Hitler had a conference at which his Foreign Secretary, Neurath, reported that the Sicilian citizens were openly cursing German soldiers in the streets. They were blamed for causing the war and exhausting food supplies. The public officials were unwilling to exert discipline and the general view was that the arrival of the English would be a liberation. Increasingly Mussolini’s power was being eroded by internal dissent. The Allies were hopeful not only that the Italian populace would welcome them, but also that invasion would provoke a popular uprising against their leaders.
The convoy arrived in the Gulf of Noto, south of Syracuse, at nearly midnight on Saturday 10 July 1943. The sky was shining red with phosphorous flares which were being sent up by the Germans 25 at a time. Any cover which the darkness afforded was effectively destroyed, but there was very little fire coming at them, only a few shells exploding harmlessly into the sea. The landing site had been well chosen as there appeared to be very little resistance. Herford’s unit landed at Marzamemi, 25 miles south of Syracuse on the bottom south-east corner of the island. The landings started at half-past midnight and continued until dawn. The troops filed into landing craft which swept swiftly across the calm sea to the beaches where they quickly dug in – a precautionary measure as the Germans were already in full flight having been subjected to heavy fire from the Allied landing further up the coast.
Herford’s unit landed at 7am. The sun was up and the German fire seemed to have dried up completely. He had anticipated being pinned down in hastily dug slit trenches while battle raged, but instead he had time to admire the glorious countryside, filled with rich green vines and tomato plants laden with ripening fruit, while the heavy transport was being brought ashore. A casualty centre was quickly erected, but there were few wounded; most of the injuries were limited to superficial wounds caused by stray shrapnel from the sporadic shelling offered by the meagre German defences. By the time the unit’s six ambulances and four 3-ton lorries were brought ashore it was 10am. Herford decided the best course was to reconnoitre a site for the casualty centre further inland. He set off with a driver through the undulating countryside until they found an ideal spot a mile inland in some well-equipped farm buildings which bore signs of having been recently evacuated by German officers. The accommodation it would afford the limited casualties would be very comfortable.
A number of medical units besides Herford’s had come over in the expeditionary force and were spreading out along the coast. Herford established his site as the central casualty station and during the rest of the day made a tour of the other ambulance units to ensure that their evacuation procedures were correctly in place. The Germans were digging in on the hillsides further inland, and any battle fought uphill would inevitably bring heavy casualties. When Herford returned to the newly established base he received an order to constitute an Advance Dressing Station (ADS) to accompany a special composite heavy-striking force codenamed ‘Harpoon’. The ADS would be in the front line of infantry picking up the wounded as they fell. It was the most hazardous of medical work, but he was extremely eager to be in the forefront of the action, and determined that medical services would be provided as close to the fighting troops as possible.
The order required immediate action, and he quickly prepared a 3-ton lorry loaded with supplies and two light ambulances. The mini-convoy set off at once for Harpoon Force HQ at Noto, a small town some 12 miles to the north and 3 miles inland from the coast, arriving at 5.30am the following morning. There Herford reported to the CO, Brigadier Richards, and two hours later moved off in the rear of the Harpoon Force convoy.
The procession of tanks, heavy artillery and infantrymen struck inland in a north-westerly direction towards the small town of Palazzolo. Along the way there were frequent stops while small pockets of resistance were mopped up with barrages of artillery fire. But nearing Palazzolo the opposition became stiffer. Air support was called up, and British bombers remorselessly strafed the German strongpoints with dramatic effect. By 4pm British tanks were rolling into the centre of Palazzolo and prisoners were being rounded up at rifle point.
Until the town was entered the Harpoon Force had suffered no casualties, but as the remaining Germans were flushed out of their hiding places two British soldiers were shot – thankfully not fatally. Herford’s unit scooped them up, and he sent an ambulance back to the hospital at Noto with the British casualties and two wounded German POWs lying side by side.
Having gathered momentum, Brigadier Richards did not want to allow the enemy time to regroup, so immediately pushed on inland towards the town of Vizzini. They were now in potentially troublesome mountain country, but the Germans seemed largely to have fled. Herford could barely believe the speed with which they had penetrated the interior of the island. But hopes of a trouble-free occupation of Vizzini were shattered when 3 miles outside town they met with extremely heavy, and very accurate, mortar fire.
For several hours they were pinned down while the superior British artillery gradually wore the town’s defenders into a slow submission. Meanwhile, Herford got word over the radio that another ADS positioned on the outskirts of the town of Buccheri (which was several miles further back along the Palazzolo road), had just received five British casualties as a result of an attack by tanks. The brunt was borne by the 7th Mediu
m Regiment Royal Artillery, which received heavy losses of life. Herford responded by dispatching an ambulance, which collected a severely wounded private who had lost a lot of blood from a deep bullet wound. Frantic attempts were made to prevent the bleeding; a dressing was pressed hard against the wound and a saline drip connected to prevent the blood vessels collapsing, but tragically the life simply drained out of him during the journey.
Nightfall arrived and Vizzini was still in German hands. The dogged resistance continued into the next morning, when to everyone’s surprise the mortar fire increased. Very little advance was made, and Herford was frustratingly holed up in the back of his ambulance. For a doctor to be at the front with very few casualties to attend to was an ironic experience, rendering him for the time little more than a spectator, but he was grateful that for now at least, lives were not being squandered.
Under the cover of mortar fire two companies of the Hampshire Regiment attempted to make the breakthrough, but each time they were forced back by the ferocity of fire. The enemy continued to hold out for the rest of the day, taking advantage of the fact that as long as they remained in a town filled with innocent civilians, the ferocity of the Allied bombardment would be tempered by a concern not to inflict too much on the Sicilians.
That evening Harpoon Force was bolstered by the arrival of 231 Brigade, bringing with it a welcome increase in firepower. In anticipation of a major assault being launched which might involve hand-to-hand fighting, Herford was required to set off with an ambulance to Vizzini to prepare for the arrival of the expected casualties. En route he stopped to help extricate Brigadier Urquhart’s jeep from a ditch.
By the following morning the enemy had been beaten back from the town, their retreat necessitated by a shortage of ammunition. The Harpoon Force then divided in two. The objective was the town of Scordia. One half of the force would go via Militello, the other via Francofonte. Herford’s unit moved with the half going via Francofonte. There was slight opposition, but good progress was made the following day and by 5pm Herford had established ‘A’ Advance Dressing Station 1 mile east of Scordia.
The Allied campaign made steady progress northwards across the island, but not as swiftly as they would have hoped. On the east side the Eighth Army were struggling though mountainous country towards the port of Catania, and on the west, the Seventh Army were heading for Palermo on the northern coast. Although the Axis troops were initially taken by surprise, they did not take long to adopt strong positions, usually at altitude. The mountain roads were narrow, winding and often treacherous. The defending army frequently blasted cliffs above the roads making them impassable except by infantry. In hand-to-hand combat the Allies were in a much weaker position – there were 405,000 German and Italian troops on the island, outnumbering the Allies by two to one. The Harpoon Force was now fighting across the plain to the south-west of Catania and meeting stiff opposition and very accurate mortar fire. Herford was kept busy removing casualties to safety, but was dogged by a lorry breakdown on the night of 17 July which took the REME until 6am to repair. This was particularly galling as moving casualties at night was far safer than risking attention from enemy fighters during the daylight hours.
On the afternoon of 19 July, Herford received orders to join the other Advance Dressing Station which had been established at Raddusa, a small town to the north-east. Under cover of darkness the small ambulance convoy set off at 1am, only to discover several miles to the north that the bridge on the Raddusa road had been blown. They were forced to take a diversion, only to get lost when in the pitch dark, without the help of headlights, the Raddusa road was completely missed. A circuitous route was adopted, more than once impeded by blown bridges, until they reached their final destination at midday on the 20th.
Raddusa was comfortably behind Allied lines, but Herford needed to visit the forward ambulance units to ensure the supply and evacuation lines were operating effectively. On the morning of 21 July he set off by trusty motorcycle to visit the C section of the Dorsets several miles to the north. All was well with casualty evacuation, but the enemy shelling was intense. On leaving Herford had a lucky escape; he unwittingly left his motorcycle in full view of the Germans, allowing a mortar unit to size up the range with considerable accuracy ready for when he came back to drive it away. As he started the engine several mortars in succession landed far too close for comfort, spraying him and the motorcycle with a stinging shower of earth and gravel. He counted himself extremely lucky not to have been among the 31,000 Allied soldiers killed and wounded in the campaign.
The following day he continued his liaison duties, visiting the 4th Canadian Ambulance Unit and the Devons, helping the latter evacuate their casualties south. As well as coping with the disconcerting accuracy of German fire, Herford also had to contend with an unexpected enemy when the farmhouse in which he was lodging turned out to be infested with fleas whose constant biting and hopping kept him awake most of the night.
On the 24th the ADS at Raddusa suffered a direct hit from a shell, wounding seven personnel, one of them fatally. Those who remained unhurt considered themselves very fortunate. It had been yet another close call. Herford began to question whether his luck was running out, as the following evening, while he was in a forward position visiting the Devons, he was bedding down to snatch a few hours’ sleep in a farmhouse when he heard the menacing whine of an approaching mortar. He held his breath, waiting for the worst; but, missing him by no more than a few feet, the motor crashed into the next bedroom, killing the occupant. Herford emerged from the damaged building shaken but unhurt.
The following day he again found himself in the teeth of danger when he went forward with ambulance units to evacuate casualties from a wooded area to the south of Agira which was being doggedly defended. At one point he was standing at the top of a small hill held by Canadian infantry. Suddenly he heard a shout to hit the deck. German soldiers in camouflage rushed up the hillside staging a counter-attack. Weaponless, Herford could only watch as the Canadian infantrymen held their positions and opened fire on successive waves of troops who alternately leapfrogged one another, the men on the ground providing covering fire for those surging forwards. Bullets whistled overhead. The air was suddenly thick with the acrid smell of exploded gunpowder as spent cases sprayed from the breaches of the Canadian guns; and ears were deafened by a barrage of thunderous rifle cracks. Herford was in awe of the infantrymen as they coolly held their ground while at any moment they might find themselves in a battle of bayonets.
Thankfully the uphill struggle proved too tall an order, and German fire suddenly ceased. None of the Canadians was hurt, but on the slopes below several twisted, lifeless bodies lay motionless in the scanty cover. At intervals, small groups of survivors sprang up and ran for their lives to the valley below. But they need not have feared being shot in the back, and in accordance with the strange chivalry of war, the fleeing attackers, though easy targets, were allowed to escape. After the attack came the business of clearing the casualties. A number of Allied soldiers were lying injured in the surrounding woods and were rapidly fetched out by stretcher-bearers. One of the greatest dangers to a soldier suffering a bullet or shrapnel wound is loss of blood, and the immediacy of medical attention was of critical importance. The field ambulances were equipped with limited facilities for carrying out blood transfusions – a recent innovation – which on this occasion saved several lives.
Herford’s skill as a route-finder was called upon that evening when he was asked to find a northerly route which would by-pass the town of Agira, so tenaciously defended by the Germans. Herford was asked to survey some pretty rough and rocky terrain which proved quite impracticable for substantial troop movements. Apart from facing the lurking fear that wandering around in the darkness he would chance upon some enemy troops, he also had to sacrifice a night’s sleep. He finally crawled beneath the covers at 5.30am and managed to snatch a few minutes’ rest.
Fighting intensified throughout the day. A
n alternative northwards route had been found and the Devons and Dorsets made slow progress along a rough track to the east of Agira against stiff opposition. Herford followed, overseeing the removal of casualties, which were by now mounting significantly, but given the amount of metal flying through the air were still remarkably light. Again accurate mortar fire took its toll and four trucks suffered direct hits as well as the OC Devon’s jeep. The OC survived, but two were killed and several others severely wounded. At the end of the afternoon the Dorsets took over a large house 2 miles to the east of Agira. Inside were two British soldiers who had been taken prisoner two days earlier and a German officer who despite swift medical attention subsequently died from his wounds.
The siege of Agira lasted through the night. The Devons and Dorsets, with the help of Canadian reinforcements, laid siege and showered in heavy fire from dusk till dawn when finally the weary occupants surrendered. With the town now occupied the quickest route back to the ADS was through Agira. Herford set off on his motorcycle but was stopped by a roadblock. He took a diversion over rough ground but struck a large stone and was thrown from his vehicle, the front forks severely bent. Reduced to Shanks’s pony (slang at the time for ‘having to walk’), he made his way on foot into Agira’s outskirts where he found an old Italian car which he quickly cranked into life and used to return to the ADS.