by Mark Zuehlke
WITH THE PENINSUL A clear, the way was open for 9th Brigade to mount an amphibious attack against Leer on April 28. Situated at the confluence of the Ems and Leda rivers, Leer covered the roads running north to Emden. Protected by the rivers on three sides and by marshes on its northern side, the large town was ideally suited for defence. The Germans had added to this by destroying all bridges crossing the two rivers, so Simonds had decided an assault by storm boat would be necessary. Storm boats were small open-hulled craft powered by an outboard motor and operated by Canadian engineers. Brigadier Rocky Rockingham and his staff expected “an opposed landing . . . as air photographs showed weapon slits dug along the dykes surrounding” the town. From across the Ems, Rockingham studied the dykes with binoculars and saw Germans moving about behind the slits.
At Leer, the Ems was a broad 300 to 350 yards wide and was influenced by tides that limited use of the few suitable boat-launching sites to high tide and the slack current that followed. Unable to find reliable tide charts, the Stormont, Dundas and Glengarry intelligence officer spent twenty-four hours huddled beside the river, measuring the tidal rise and fall.
Rockingham’s planning was complicated by Simonds’s insistence that the bridgehead be firm and secure before night fell, so that engineers could begin bridge building under cover of darkness and without German interference. Accordingly, Rockingham set the assault for 1500 hours. The tide would be at its highest point then, with sufficient time left before nightfall to secure the bridgehead. However, this meant the boats would operate in broad daylight, something usually avoided. The only solution was to lay on an extensive artillery program that included smothering the opposing shore in smoke to blind German observers.33 In addition to 3rd Division’s three field regiments, Major General Holly Keefler secured the army’s 11th Canadian Field Regiment and 7th Canadian Medium Regiment. He then reached out to the British and came up with four more medium regiments, two heavy regiments, and one sub-unit of super-heavy 9.2-inch guns. Keefler’s chief gunner, Brigadier L.G. Clarke, designated ninety-one specific targets, allotting a set number of guns to each.34 Also firing in support of the crossing would be ‘A’ and ‘C’ Squadrons of the Sherbrooke Fusiliers. In the afternoon hours preceding the attack, Typhoons would intensively strafe targets inside Leer.35
The crossings were to be made in three different spots at precisely the same time “to prevent the enemy from concentrating his defence.”36 One North Nova Scotia Highlander company would launch from the south bank of the Leda River—rendered secure the previous day by 7th Canadian Infantry Brigade—and attack the narrow peninsula that guarded the entrance to Leer’s harbour. Assembling on the west bank of the Ems about two miles south of Leer, the Highland Light Infantry would load three companies into thirty boats and drift downstream to land at the junction of the two rivers. Assembling at Bingum, the Glens would cross the Ems directly to assault Leer’s western outskirts with a first wave of two companies. Also taking to assault boats to support the two battalion-sized attacks would be a heavy machine-gun platoon of the Cameron Highlanders of Ottawa (MG). Once these initial crossings were complete, the rest of the North Novas would be ferried across to assault the town’s southern outskirts.37
At 1425 hours, the guns opened with a shattering bombardment that artillery observers reported was “excellent, as burst after burst was seen along the dykes where the enemy was entrenched.” In front of the North Nova company, however, the opposite bank was too close for the guns to risk firing on it, and a persistent wind made any artillery smokescreen “impractical.” To compensate, ‘D’ Company’s Major Kenneth Nelson Webber had the platoon’s mortar section fire smoke while a platoon of Cameron Highlanders and all available Bren guns of the nearby Canadian Scottish Regiment raked the opposing bank.38 At the designated moment, Webber waved a hand and the rifle platoons and engineering crews hauled the boats over the dyke and across thirty yards of marsh before splashing into the river. The engineers raced the boats across at top speed, cutting the engines just in time to skid the craft up against the shore. ‘D’ Company tumbled out, each platoon sprinting towards its assigned section of dyke. Most of the defenders were “still cowering in their slits.” Three machine guns and four 20-millimetre anti-tank guns were overrun before their crews fired a shot. Pushing inland, Webber saw the HLI landing at the mouth of the Leda. When a large number of Germans attempted to withdraw from in front of the Highlanders, the North Novas opened up from the flank “and either killed or captured” them.39
The three companies aboard the first wave of the HLI flotilla had swept down the two miles of river and found the artillery fire on its landing site so “effective that the enemy had had enough by the time the boats touched down.”40 A large number of prisoners were taken, and the battalion established its bridgehead “in record time.” Entering Leer, the enemy “returned a hail of sniper fire . . . and also made use of his Panzerfaust against the infantry. However, the first phase of the attack was speedily completed and the troops pushed on.”41
To the north, the Glens met serious trouble, despite the fact that most of the leading two companies reached the opposite shore just four minutes after launching. A couple of boats suffered engine failure and capsized. Three men aboard one of the boats were unable to swim, and Major J.A. Stothart saw them being swept helplessly downstream. Sprinting through a minefield to get alongside the men, Stothart dived into the river and managed to pull two safely to shore. He then swam after the third man and succeeded in rescuing him as well. ‘B’ Company’s Major Jack Forman and his two signallers had been aboard the second capsized boat. All their wireless equipment was lost, and the men were carried by the current back to the west bank. On the opposite shore, Captain Don Stewart took over the company and led it through a sharp fight for control of the dyke. ‘A’ Company’s landing was a fiasco. Unloading in ‘B’ Company’s area, the troops sunk into waist-deep water choked with weeds, which slowed getting ashore.
Quickly sorting order out of chaos, ‘A’ Company’s veteran non-commissioned officers got each platoon headed towards its designated area. Sergeant Fred Haworth’s leadership was typical. Advancing his platoon in section bounds, Haworth put in a rapid assault across the dyke that overwhelmed several machine-gun positions. Instead of shooting one German machine-gunner, Haworth jumped on his back, yanked him from behind the MG42, and chucked him into a deep water-filled ditch.42
By the time ‘C’ and ‘D’ Companies crossed over, thirty minutes after the first wave, the situation was mostly in hand. But three of their boats were sunk by German fire. While the men in one waded ashore, fifteen men in the other two boats drowned. These two companies led the assault into the town, where fierce street fighting broke out.
Once the HLI and Glens gained Leer, the North Nova companies in reserve began crossing. When one boat was swamped after its motor failed, five more men drowned, but otherwise the crossing was without incident. The battalion quickly passed through the HLI and entered into the raging street battle. By nightfall, 9 CIB had advanced far enough to enable the engineers to start bridging operations without interference. But the river and weather proved formidable foes, with winds, the tide, and waves hampering ferrying attempts. Persistent engine failures also disrupted operations.43 As a result, plans to hurry the Wasps and carriers of the North Novas across were not carried out.44
Night brought “the most confused fighting” for 9 CIB, Rockingham later wrote. “The enemy took advantage of his local knowledge, and at times fought with the greatest dash, and bravery. Our positions were not clearly defined, thus great care had to be taken to avoid shooting friendly troops. A halt was finally called during the night.”45
Lieutenant Colonel R.D. Hodgins, who had assumed command of the HLI on April 7 when Lieutenant Colonel Phil Strickland was appointed to serve on the division’s general staff, set his tactical headquarters in a house while it was still dark. His staff had just finished getting the wireless sets and other gear operational when they
“found themselves surrounded by a [group] of enemy. MGS across the street covered all exits and a Panzerfaust proceeded to perforate the house. Aid was forthcoming as detachments from three [companies] stormed down the street and drove off the attackers.” Hodgins decided there was no point in the companies fighting further during the night, “as lighting was poor and the task almost impossible.”
As the sun came up on April 27, the slow business of clearing Leer began. The HLI advanced through the north part of the town, running into groups of Germans “that pop up from cellars [while] snipers covered most open areas.”46 Unexpectedly, the resistance suddenly softened. By noon, the HLI had consolidated on the eastern edge of the town, and Brigadier Rockingham reported Operation Duck—as the amphibious assault had been named—complete. Except for the Glens, casualties had been light. The HLI had just four men wounded, and the North Novas reported no losses other than the five men drowned. Except for its fifteen men drowned, the Glens had only two others killed and two officers and thirty-one men wounded.47 The army’s official historian largely credited a sound tactical plan “and the determination of the assaulting troops” for the operation’s rapid success.48
BY LATE AFTERNOON, 7th Brigade had three battalions across the Ems and was expanding the bridgehead eastward. At 2130 hours, the brigade’s attack kicked off with the Regina Rifles on the right and the Royal Winnipeg Rifles the left. The Reginas were to sweep the ground between the southern edges of Julianen Park to the Leda River, while the Winnipegs secured the park itself. Both battalions met only scattered resistance from Germans mostly happy to surrender. Advancing through the night, the two battalions gained the outskirts of the village of Loga by dawn. At 0700 hours, the Canadian Scottish passed through “and thrust into the rubble piles of Loga, meeting only scattered opposition but taking quite a number of prisoners.”
Once the village was secured, the Reginas pushed out at 0900 hours on April 30 towards a group of buildings dominated by a large barracks complex. ‘B’ and ‘D’ Companies led. The battalion had no information on likely enemy strength, “but in view of the light opposition encountered by our [brigade] generally, no one, least of all the [commanders] of either [company] figured on any sort of a fight. This was to be the usual methodical check-up on houses in the area for hidden and scared [Germans].” Each company was supported by a Wasp section, pioneers to clear booby traps and mines, and a single 6-pounder anti-tank gun .49
Leading his ‘D’ Company platoon along “a road across a wide, flat, open, water-sogged meadow toward the river,” Lieutenant Walter Keith saw the large naval barracks off to the left. He had just turned his back on it when a bullet whizzed past his right ear with a mighty crack that deafened him for hours. Realizing the sniper must have recognized him for the platoon’s leader and tried for a head shot, Keith led his men in a dash to a water-filled ditch, where they all took cover. Captain Dick Roberts was commanding ‘D’ Company. When he suggested carrying on, Keith argued they should stay put until ‘B’ Company cleared the barracks. Roberts agreed.50
Entering the barracks complex, ‘B’ Company’s leading platoon was attacked by Germans throwing grenades and firing small arms. Everyone scattered safely to cover, and then the Wasps swept up and blasted the building with flame, which convinced twenty-five Germans to surrender. But the remaining defenders decided to make a stand—Captain Ken Sunstrum and his men locked in a drawn-out battle against eighty naval marines, who “decided to fight rather than throw in the sponge. They were not fanatics—they were good well disciplined marine troops,” a Regina report later concluded. Lacking artillery support and possessing no mortars, the marines were armed only with Schmeissers, grenades, and some Panzerfausts. “While their defences . . . were organized, this could be described as unorganized resistance, as the enemy fought from behind well fortified positions in the barracks buildings, content to inflict casualties on us, yet reluctant to continue the fight when in danger of suffering casualties themselves. Why they decided to make a stand is somewhat of a mystery, but it does testify to the total lack of information the enemy had of his own or our troops’ positions in the closing days of the war. Interrogation revealed that they were carrying out orders and they did not know resistance had completely crumbled in other parts of the area.”
After several hours, the marines fell back to a fortified building where they manned “both the basement and upstairs sandbagged windows with machineguns and Panzerfausts. The Wasps were too vulnerable to this overhead fire to be successfully committed . . . nor could a good shot be got at it with the [anti-tank] gun.” Sunstrum deployed his PIAT men, who hammered the building with fifteen bombs “fired from almost point blank range (under 50 yards). The PIAT explosions, in addition to blasting the face of the enemy officer responsible for the fight, set fire to the building with the result they capitulated. With this capitulation a few stray stragglers and snipers were rounded up. This one point was manned by 1 officer and 34 other ranks. Our casualties were 3 killed and 4 wounded, all by small arms fire.”51
From the ditch to the south, Lieutenant Keith and the rest of ‘D’ Company watched in amazement as the moment the shooting ceased, about two hundred German marines “came streaming out of the barracks and ran as fast as they could to surrender to us! I remember the field being full of Germans waving white flags. I remember looking down at one of our Bren gunners, his finger was on the trigger and his knuckles were white. One word from me and he would have opened up on those stupid idiots. I think I’m glad I said nothing, but I’m not sure.”52
By day’s end, 7 CIB had taken more than five hundred prisoners, and the last resistance in the Leer area ceased. Already 9 CIB was moving towards Emden and the 8th Brigade for Aurich to seize crossings over the Ems-Jade Canal, but 3rd Division had fought its last real battle. The ensuing days would see its brigades moving slowly northward across increasingly difficult ground made harder to navigate by “extensive demolitions.” It would still be short of either objective at war’s end.53
[24]
Crossroad Ambushes
WHEN APRIL 22 dawned, 4th Canadian Armoured Division was still hemmed up inside the Küsten Canal bridgehead south of Bad Zwischenahn. Although the Germans were mostly inexperienced naval marines, the terrain favoured them. Everywhere north of the canal the countryside consisted of “endless stretches of wet ground, interlaced with countless ditches and streams. The maps were full of treacherous bogs and ponds; movement—particularly armoured movement—was restricted to a few routes; and these were vulnerable to counter-attack. In this country even an inexperienced unit, if determined, could hold up an entire division.”
Despite devastating artillery and air support that left the “main road leading north from the canal . . . literally strewn on either side with German dead,” 10th Infantry Brigade had only managed to deepen the bridgehead two miles.1 The Lincoln and Welland Regiment had suffered such heavy casualties achieving its meagre gains the previous night that its rifle companies had to be reinforced by men from the support company. An attempt during the day to outflank the Germans concentrated before the main road running due north bogged down before a heavily defended streambed, and the Lincs fell back to their start line.2
To the left, the Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders also suffered casualties for minimal gains. They faced the Aue River and behind it the small town of Ostercheps. Tying several assault boats together to create an ad hoc bridge enabled ‘B’ Company to cross. By the time ‘A’ Company was strung out in an extended line on the boats, the Germans zeroed in with mortars. The third platoon in line was savaged, with five men being killed and ten wounded. Captain S. F. Day and the other two platoons, however, gained the opposite shore and managed to win a toehold on the village’s outskirts, through which ‘C’ and ‘D’ Companies then passed. As night fell, the Argylls were well inside Ostercheps but so cut up that they were unable to prevent Germans from infiltrating buildings behind their forward positions. When ‘D’ Company faced being cut
off, Lieutenant Colonel Bert Coffin ordered it back to the lines of ‘A’ and ‘C’ Companies.3 Major Bill Whiteside was just moving to comply when the company was attacked from all sides. A splinter from a Schmeisser round shattered against a wall, pierced Whiteside’s right eye, and blinded him. Refusing evacuation, Whiteside continued to direct the company’s defence through a five-hour fight. When the Germans broke off the action, ‘D’ Company’s fifty survivors pulled back. Whiteside lost all sight in his injured eye. For his action that day, he received a Military Cross.4
Neither battalion made any gains on April 23, despite intense support by rocket-firing Typhoons. At midnight, the Algonquins moved through the Argyll positions inside Ostercheps, only to have its lead company mauled when a supporting artillery barrage fell short.5 Fourteen men were killed or wounded, but ‘D’ Company pushed on to the edge of the village. ‘B’ Company then moved out into the open country beyond. Supporting artillery again fired short, causing eight casualties, but the advance never wavered. When ‘C’ Company took the lead, it also lost a man to friendly fire. Subsequent investigation determined that the shells fell short because after each shot fired, the recoil pressed the guns deeper into the soft ground, lowering their range. Major George Cassidy dismissed the incident as an unfortunate cost of war when “weighed against the numberless times we received ace support from the guns.” He was more disturbed to see that recently “the men invariably became careless during the consolidation process, and fell victim to snipers. The same thing occurred this night, for in the hazy moonlight, it was quite possible to spot our men, particularly in open fields, and several more casualties, one of them fatal, resulted from this.”