It was then observed that the barrage was on a bearing not of 233 degrees, but of about 270 degrees. The companies immediately wheeled to the west, but it took ten minutes to change front, and it was not until ten past eleven, with the barrage already well ahead, that the carriers advanced, followed by the infantry and sappers. The moon was now up, its large face tinted yellow by the dust particles that filled the atmosphere.
Turner, wearing corduroy trousers and a leathern jacket, was riding in a wireless jeep, driven by Tom Bird, who, like several officers, was wearing the old desert hand’s poshteen. Almost immediately the jeep drove straight into an empty enemy weapon pit. It was extricated with difficulty, but, otherwise, for the first thousand yards all went well; there was a little fire, but no opposition on the ground.
Some barbed wire was then encountered and the carriers were delayed for five minutes while Graham’s sappers went in to test for mines. None was found and the advance continued. Parties of enemy were observed, running away, and the carriers opened fire on them. The going became exceedingly bad, with much soft sand. More scattered groups of the enemy were seen running away and twenty German prisoners were captured without resistance; they were engineers.
Tim Marten was following Turner in one of the 15-cwt wireless trucks known as a ‘gin palace’ and he was measuring progress by the vehicle’s speedometer, reporting from time to time by air to Captain Charles Wood, GSO 3 at 7th Motor Brigade headquarters. Thus: ‘We have just done the Cambridgeshire distance.’ Then: ‘Getting on for the Cesarewitch now.’ And finally: ‘Just running up to the winning post.’
The barrage, however, went on and on. The 2,000 yards’ advance that Turner had counted upon was passed and when some 3,000 yards had been traversed Turner, his mind nagged all the time by the doubts about map locations, became anxious. He, therefore, asked Noyes, the FOO, to call for a round of smoke from 2nd RHA on the objective. As this landed within 300 yards of him, he thought it good enough and halted the advance.
In fact, the force never reached the correct map reference of Snipe at all, and finished up 900 yards approximately SSE of it.[61]
The success signal was given both by wireless and by Verey light at a quarter past midnight. This was what Pearson, with the antitank guns and supply trucks, had been waiting for back on the start-line. He had been under brisk shellfire for about an hour and at about 11.30 a lone enemy aircraft, after releasing a parachute flare, had dropped a stick of bombs which set two vehicles on fire and caused a few casualties. Picton, the stout-hearted medical officer, went to their assistance and was treating the wounded when the success signal went up. Pearson started forward at once with his guns and vehicles, leaving the doctor and his ambulances behind. Events were to prevent Picton from reaching a gallant company of men who sorely needed him. Mercifully, however, his devoted medical orderly, Rifleman S. H. Burnhope, very small, not very significant, coupling his medical duties with those of company barber, but stout of heart, was among those who went forward.
Pearson and his party had a rough ride. One after another his vehicles sank into the soft sand and there was a long delay while sand-mats, shovels and tow-ropes were got out. The 6-pdrs were in the worst case. Those of 239th Battery were seriously handicapped by the fact that some of the vehicles were not equipped with four-wheel drive. Alan Baer himself, however, was fortunately riding in one of the new American half-tracked vehicles of which there had been a small issue — the White Scout Car — driven by Lance-Bombardier Voce. Accompanied by Willmore and Sergeant Norrie, he picked his way forward by compass under the yellow moon, escaped contact with any roaming enemy, reached the supposed Snipe position, made a reconnaissance and drove back. Making three or four journeys, he towed his guns up one by one with their detachments and a little ammunition. His remaining guns got up on their portees. All six of the Royal Artillery guns that had set out thus got forward.
Pearson, also making two or three trips, got forward thirteen of the Rifle Brigade guns, making, together with the RA guns, nineteen 6-pdrs in all. Water, rations and machine-gun ammunition arrived in sufficient quantities in trucks, but, as the unexpected events were to prove, there was far too little ammunition for the 6-pdrs. Off-loading was completed by 3.45 a.m.
Meanwhile, the motor companies, very thin on the ground, had taken up their allotted sectors and had dug-in. The sand was excessively loose and would not hold to the shape of a trench or weapon pit, but slid back as it was dug. The place turned out to be a German engineer-stores depot and it fortunately provided Turner with a dug-out, which he took as his headquarters and in which he posted Marten and the wireless set, manned by Signalman ‘Busty’ Francis and another. A few other small dug-outs were also found in the area occupied. Telephone lines were run out from Turner’s command-post to each of the companies. The ground was foul with excreta and the bodies of some dead Germans lay about. The sand being now undisturbed by vehicles or shells, the moon shone clearly over a wide distance. Turner was able to see that the position was in a slight depression, which, when daylight came, turned out to be in the shape of a shallow oval, about 900 yards long and 400 wide.
While the motor companies were consolidating, the carriers of the Scout platoons, as was their wont in motor battalions, drove outwards to reconnoitre and cover the consolidation. Those of A Company went out north-westward without incident. Those of C Company, under Dick Flower, however, had a spirited brush with the enemy. Having gone 250 yards, they encountered barbed wire, which suggested another minefield. Resolved to investigate, Flower found a gap and went through it for fully a mile in the moonlight. Some sixty enemy appeared and began to run away. The carriers engaged them and took fourteen prisoners.
About 200 yards away in the moonlight Flower then made out the shapes of some thirty-five tanks together with a number of soft-skinned vehicles. Most people would have been satisfied with obtaining this useful information and would have withdrawn in the presence of tanks, but Flower brazenly opened fire with his bren guns and set fire to three vehicles. At this contumacious behaviour, the enemy tanks moved out and opened fire. They hit an old derelict vehicle a few yards from one of Flower’s carriers. The derelict burst into flames, the carriers were illuminated and one of them was hit by a shot from the tanks. The prisoners made a dash to escape but were mown down by both friend and enemy. The tanks advanced menacingly against the carriers, firing both their guns and machine-guns, and Flower, returning their fire, by mere instinct, withdrew before them. Thus did Turner’s small force begin its exploit in the offensive spirit that was to inspire it throughout.
What Flower had stumbled upon was in fact a night leaguer of a mixed force of tanks, self-propelled guns and vehicles, part German and part Italian, under the command of the German, Colonel Teege, and known as the Stiffelmayer Battle Group. It was located on the long mound to the south-west which we have called Hill 37 and beyond the brow of which Flower had penetrated. It was soon evident to Turner, in fact, that the desert around him was, except to his rear, alive with enemy. All to the westward numerous camp fires were to be seen at no great distance. The moon and their lights enabled him to discover another tank leaguer about 1,000 yards to the northward, which was, in fact, a leaguer of 15th Panzer Division. Numbers of enemy vehicles could also be seen.
By now the anti-tank guns had arrived and had been sited as well as was possible by night. The Vickers and bren guns had been posted. Digging-in had been barely completed when, at about 3.45, the deep-throated rumble of tanks in motion was heard from the direction of Teege’s leaguer. Very soon their sombre shapes could be seen advancing in two bodies. One was obviously shaping course to join the northern leaguer of 15th PZ Division, but the other made straight for Turner’s position, moving in line-head.
The guns were immediately manned and loaded. Fire was withheld until there was a certainty of a kill with the first shot, for the 6-pdr’s poor sights made night-shooting very chancy. As the leading tank of the more southerly column drew near, it was
seen to be a big Mark IV, with its menacing long gun. It was permitted to penetrate right into C Company’s terrain and hit at a range of thirty yards by Sergeant Brown. The shot glowed red-hot as it sunk into the armour-plate and the tank burst into flames. At the same time a Russian 7-62 cm self-propelled gun was likewise knocked out and ‘brewed up’ on A Company’s sector on the west by the broad-shouldered Sergeant Swann, who, determined that his position as platoon sergeant should not deny him a shoot, took control of Corporal Cope’s gun.
The remainder of the enemy force immediately altered course and made away, but a number, as was to appear at first light, halted and took cover in small, scrub-smudged folds in the ground only a few hundred yards to the west.
Only one of the crew of the big Mark IV escaped. Leaping out, he ran to a trench a little way off, whence, with commendable aggression, he sniped at the British positions for the remainder of the night until a rifleman, locating him at first light, crept out and finished him off with a grenade.
These two kills with the new guns caused immense jubilation. The riflemen had heard with delight of the exploit of the London Rifle Brigade two days before on the edge of the Australian front and were eager to emulate their brother Green Jackets. From this moment the garrison was fired to a most astonishing degree with an eager and offensive confidence. As events disclosed themselves, this spirit swelled into something even more impressive — the exultant spirit of the happy warrior.
Shortly after this the garrison unaccountably sustained a serious loss in the disappearance of 2nd RHA’s FOO. For some reason, never explained, Noyes left Turner’s dug-out at about 4 a.m., possibly to find a good position for observation, lost his way, ended up miles away in the lines of the London Rifle Brigade, whence he was never able to return. His signallers remained, but the lack of a FOO was to be sorely felt.
At 5.45 a.m. Pearson returned to the Highland Division lines with the non-fighting transport, taking the prisoners with him. He also was never able to get back to the position, urgent though its needs became, for at the approach of daylight the pace of events began to quicken. Sergeant Swann and CSM Atkins should have gone back with him, but asked permission to stay.
Half an hour later, as the sky began to change to the colour of pewter and the bitter pre-dawn wind whipped across the desert, Turner was able to assess more clearly the nature of his footing in the inhospitable landscape. The almost flat scene, stretching for a mile and a half all round, shadowed by the faint anonymous folds and ripples of the desert, was overlooked by the slight elevations that formed the horizon on all sides except the south. Patches of low, scrubby camel’s thorn stippled and darkened the desert canvas here and there, affording some exiguous cover for those who knew how to use it.
This scrub extended into the shallow oval in which the garrison had taken station and they had been quick to take advantage of it as they sited their weapon pits and trenches, knowing well, however, that full daylight would show the need to alter their dispositions. The excellence of their concealment and digging, indeed, saved them from a great many casualties in what Turner called the ‘deluge of fire poured down on us for the rest of that day’. The gun-pits were never really pin-pointed by the enemy. Turner noted, however, that the faint undulations and the scrub provided some strips and zones of dead ground which an equally experienced enemy could put to advantage in any attack upon him.
It was in this grey dawn twilight that the enemy tank leaguers both to the north and to the south-west were to be seen starting into motion. For some such activity Turner had been watching, for he knew that at the approach of light all tanks would break leaguer and move out to whatever was their mission for the day. Contrary to his expectation, they moved westward.
To the surprise of the garrison, a number of the German panzers which had halted in dead ground after their attempted move in the night suddenly broke cover at ranges of from 600 to 800 yards. They thus offered highly tempting rear and flank targets at killing ranges to the riflemen’s gun detachment as they peered out in the biting wind.
In such circumstances, it was perhaps not in accord either with doctrine or with their mission for the garrison to disclose their positions and engage. But they did not feel in a calculating spirit that day and could not resist the temptation to attack. The dawn was shattered as eight or nine guns barked with the 6-pdr’s sharp, high-velocity crack. The results were spectacular. Eight tanks and self-propelled guns were destroyed to the north (all being found derelict on the battlefield subsequently) and a further eight were claimed from Teege’s battle group to the south-west, of which three were still derelict on the ground a month later. Upon the unfortunate crews who attempted to escape the machine-guns poured their streams of bullets.
Bursts of unrestrained cheers ran through the garrison at the thrill of this dramatic success. A ripple of exaltation seized all ranks. From that moment they felt themselves to be on top of the enemy. Sixteen birds for breakfast was a very good start to the day’s shooting.
This display of aggression, however, was answered by the inevitable counter-action. Their position disclosed, the garrison was heavily shelled. Sergeant Saunders was killed and his gun knocked out by a direct hit and two other guns were damaged beyond immediate use.
The sky changed from pewter to pearl and the crimson streamers that preceded the approach of the desert sun spread out along the eastern horizon. It became evident that some of the gun positions must be altered. Thus, Alan Baer found one of 239th Battery gun’s field of fire obscured by a hump a cricket pitch away. Moreover, some guns had dug themselves into the soft sand in the last shoot — as was to recur frequently during the day — and had to be pulled out and resited. To alter positions in daylight was a dangerous and difficult task. The bren-carriers had to be called upon to shift the guns and the movement immediately attracted enemy fire. Captain Hugo Salmon, Bird’s second-in-command, was gravely wounded and lingered for some six hours before he died, devotedly tended to the last by Rifleman Burnhope, the medical orderly.
At about the same time a single German soldier, who had been lying concealed in the very centre of the position, was seen to leap up and run at full speed westward. He was unarmed. Quixotically, the riflemen let him go. Not a shot was fired. ‘We all instinctively felt,’ said Bird afterwards, ‘that he was not fair game.’
Full daylight revealed to Turner only too clearly the nakedness of his position. To the north, scarcely to be recognized as elevations, he thought he could make out Kidney Ridge and Woodcock. Much more obviously and more threateningly, the mound of Hill 37 appeared to south-west, the point of observation of much of the fire directed against the garrison. To north, west and south enemy movement and activity of all sorts was to be seen. Marten, coming up from the dug-out where he had been reporting events by wireless to 7th Motor Brigade, looked round the morning scene, where the shadows were beginning to sharpen under the rising sun, and asked:
‘Have we come to the right place, sir?’
Turner answered: ‘God knows. But here we are and here we damned well stay.’
He expected 24th Armoured Brigade to appear on the scene very soon but, meanwhile, long used to work in close association with gunners, he was fretting at the loss of his FOO. The picture around him was alive with targets and he would need gunner support if attacked by infantry. On his orders, Marten reported the loss of Noyes to brigade headquarters and asked urgently for a replacement. One was promised, but never arrived, for from now onwards the British lines to the east and the approaches to them were so scourged by enemy shellfire that nothing could get forward.
The anticipated appearance of 24th Armoured Brigade was not long delayed, but it was of a totally unexpected nature. At 7.30 a.m., as the huge crimson globe of the sun began to climb out of the British lines, great clouds of dust heralded their approach. The Shermans and Grants breasted the slight crest of the Oxalic line and halted to search the exposed ground ahead with their field-glasses. Two thousand yards ahead they saw
a strongpoint of guns and weapon pits among the camel’s thorn, with a sprinkling of burnt-out German tanks hard by. Not recognizing what was intended to be their own ‘pivot of manoeuvre’, they promptly opened fire on it with high explosive. Much of the fire fell on 239th Battery, who lay nearest to them.
This was galling. In an attempt to stop it, Turner sent out his intelligence Officer, Jack Wintour, on the dangerous mission of making his way to our tanks in a bren-carrier. This Wintour accomplished. He succeeded in abating the fire of the leading squadron, but the remainder of the brigade continued to bombard their friends. The irrepressible Wintour then calmly returned.
At 8 o’clock, 24th Brigade began to move forward towards Turner’s position. Immediately they did so Turner observed about twenty-five German tanks, nearly all of which were the latest and most powerful long-gunned ‘Specials’, taking up hull-down positions behind Hill 37 to oppose them. In doing so, they presented themselves as targets to Turner’s guns. In spite of the long range, the 6-pdrs at once engaged the big tanks and brewed up three of them at 1,100 yards. As their crews bailed out they were shot down by machine-guns from the advancing Shermans. The armoured brigade now knew who were their friends.
Half-an-hour later the Shermans joined hands with the garrison. Instead of bringing the relief that it promised, however, their arrival brought on a fight of violence and confusion. Drawn as by a magnet, the enemy attacked our exposed and halted tanks with every weapon that they could bring to bear — from their hull-down tanks, from the anti-tank guns of 115th Panzer Grenadiers and 33rd Panzerjagers and from the heavy shells of their medium artillery.
Alamein (Major Battles of World War Two) Page 28