by Bryn Hammond
We are bound to have some desperately anxious moments as to what success is to be achieved. There are great possibilities and great dangers! It may be the turning point of the war, leading to further success combined with the North African attack, or it may mean nothing. If it fails I don’t quite know how I shall bear it, I have pinned such hopes on these two offensives.
In his own words, therefore, ‘The stage was now set, after much trouble, for a possible change in the tide of the war.’76
* Officer in charge of gap
CHAPTER SEVEN
AN END HAS A START
It was a full moon, a gloriously calm, warm night. All the men were at their guns, ammunition was being polished. Fradd, the GPO (Gun Position Officer), was standing at the command post, watch in hand. Inside, the telephonist was listening to instructions from battery command post. Down the wire came ‘five minutes to go’. The lamp on the post from which the guns take their angle went black, the wick having been turned up too high. A man ran across with an electric torch. He had thirty seconds to go! Five seconds to go! FIRE! And as Fradd shouted down his megaphone, the whole regiment let go together and all along the horizon flash after flash appeared and the air began to crack and rumble as the near and distant guns fired on their tasks. The Battle for Africa had begun.1
At 2140hrs on 23 October 1942, this, as penned by Canon Gervase Markham, was how the opening of the battle appeared from a battery position of one field regiment: an almost-tangible sense of tension and drama and the inevitable last-minute hitch before the guns roared into life.
For many witnessing it, the bombardment was stunning, but although 408 field guns and forty-eight medium guns were concentrated in the northern sector under the control of the XXX Corps Commander Royal Artillery (CRA), Brigadier Mead Dennis, the majority of available guns were actually spread along the entire forty-mile front.2 Consequently, in places the noise was barely noticeable, a fact that made a great impression on Major-General Francis ‘Gertie’ Tuker:
There was no roar of cannon, at least none that we heard as the sound came through the muffling sands below Ruweisat – none even from our own divisional guns hard by. Wide to the north and south played the swift flickering lightning flashes, dead white, as if giants danced a Khuttack war dance whirling their swords about their heads under the moon. And the sound, too, it fluttered all around us and above us. Many a time have I been in a bombardment, our own and the enemy’s, and never have I listened to so seemingly gentle a noise of guns. When I say fluttered, I mean fluttered like a thousand moths – no other. It was hard to believe that 500 field- and medium- guns close by were pounding the enemy’s batteries with shell.3
However, where the guns were concentrated, it was undoubtedly impressive. At the artillery observation posts (OP), officers and men enjoyed a ‘grandstand’ view of the sights and sounds as the gunners stepped through their fire programme. Bombadier Cyril Mount recounted:
You can’t describe it. It was like millions of wild swans going overhead, mixed with the sort of noise you sometimes get when a tram car goes round the bend – or a tube train – a squeeching. That’d be one probably turning over and you’d think ‘God, is it going to hit us?!’ It seemed to be about six inches above our heads all night long – this barrage. At times it was as light as daylight there were so many flares going up. We just got very, very pissed that night on Canadian Club whisky and yet not so pissed that we were incapable. It was adrenaline mixed with the alcohol somehow. It was an incredible night.4
To see such devastating destructive power in use against his fellow man was assuredly a challenge to Canon Markham’s faith but, despite this, he rationalized the end as justifying the means:
They were just the enemy. You didn’t see them, you didn’t know them. You knew that they were trying to win the war for a cause which you regarded as an evil cause – Nazism – and so you were glad to be fighting a battle that would help to win the war. There was no opportunity or occasion for sympathizing with the individual soldier who was on the opposite side. Even as a chaplain, that was only a very secondary thought.5
As in the Great War, when men witnessed or endured such massed artillery fire, the weapon in its effect was seemingly a bludgeon, disguising the sophisticated science required to wield it successfully.
Montgomery claimed to have slept through the bombardment,6 but wrote elsewhere that it was ‘a wonderful sight, similar to a Great War 1914/18 attack’.7 Lance Corporal Douglas Waller of 1st Rifle Brigade called it ‘a little bit of World War One stuff’.8 On the front of XXX Corps, a complex ‘hurricane’ bombardment benefited from the thorough preparatory counter-battery (CB) work of units like 4th (Durham) Survey Regiment in locating the Axis guns. Now the flash-spotting, sound-ranging, aerial reconnaissance, secret trig points and the surprisingly unscathed observation towers reaped their dividends. With medium guns attacking the more distant targets and the 25-pounders concentrating fire on forward batteries, Eighth Army quickly established fire superiority.9 The German and Italian gunners were totally unprepared when the bombardment opened, as Kannoneer Martin Ranft recalled:
I was talking to a comrade of mine and I was facing the front line which was roughly about 5 miles away from our guns. Suddenly I saw the whole front line – the sky went red with the gunfire. I said ‘Look at that!’ We thought then ‘That is going to be the end’. But we survived. When the shells came over it was just horrible. You know, you had the shells howling over you and then exploding all round you. It wasn’t a very nice thing.10
The headquarters of 15. Panzer-Division immediately reported problems from the destruction of telephone communications by artillery fire. General Georg Stumme was also completely surprised. His efforts to grasp the details of the situation were ineffectual and the Panzerarmee fought the first few hours of the battle ‘blind’.11
At 2155hrs, the bombardment stopped. The gunners made the necessary adjustments to begin the barrage and fire concentrations on targets in the vicinity of the front line; the infantry lying flat while the change took place. Then, as the firing recommenced, the infantry and the Royal Engineer mine-clearing parties started forward again. Rifleman Reg Crimp looked on:
Groups of Jock infantry, in shorts and shirts and tin-hats, with bayonets fixed, begin filtering forward through the gap. Poor devils – I don’t envy them their night’s work. Not much reaction from the enemy seems forthcoming, though – only an occasional soughing plunge and the hoarse crash of a shell landing somewhere forward.12
SECOND ALAMEIN: OPERATION LIGHTFOOT
The waiting tank crews watched without envy from behind their protective armour. Trooper Len Flanakin of the 9th Armoured Brigade remembered:
Across the minefields we could see the shadowy figures of the Sappers engrossed in a job I would not have had for the world. Infantry men bent low moving in to attack. The barrage ceased for a moment. Then the gunners having adjusted their sights began in unison again. These men must have got into their stride as this encore seemed heavier than ever.13
Air superiority was crucial to British success at Alamein. The Desert Air Force was to assist by attacking ‘deep’ targets, permitting the artillery to focus on the close battle.14 From 2200hrs, when the artillery commenced attacking the forward defensive positions, twenty Fleet Air Arm Albacore ‘pathfinders’ and sixty Wellingtons worked through the night in a counter-battery role on the front of XXX Corps. Major Alan Newson, Royal Marines, was commanding 821 Squadron, Fleet Air Arm:
We were doing the usual job of illuminating concentrations behind the enemy lines. Of course we had to fly over the battlefield of Alamein itself. It was a wonderful sight. I can remember the barrage stretching for miles in either direction, tracer going in all directions and in the distance were explosions and fires and the flares dropped by the Wellingtons and ourselves. The chief opposition was enemy night fighters and light ack-ack. The other thing that used to worry us quite a lot was our own Wellingtons and their bombs because they used to
bomb from 10,000 feet and we used to bomb from 5,000. That was one of the risks we had to take because we had to keep the illumination going the whole time they were bombing.15
The Wellington 1C crews from 148 Squadron had been given a line of longitude which they mustn’t bomb east of. Anything visible west of the line, however, was fair game. Flight Lieutenant Ron Dorey of 148 Squadron was puzzled at first:
We couldn’t understand this because nobody said ‘The battle is about to open’. When we turned from Wadi Natrun heading west, I have never ever seen a sight like it! Thirty miles of solid gunfire. At night. From the coast down to the Qattara Depression. We looked at this and said ‘God Almighty, what’s going on?!’ And then as we flew closer, we thought it was flak at first, but miles of it! As we got nearer we suddenly realized what it was all about.16
The squadron was instructed to fly at 6,000 feet and target artillery gun flashes, which in Dorey’s opinion in the darkness was ‘a bit ridiculous really’. Consequently, his crew persuaded him to undertake a risky manoeuvre:
I said ‘6,000 feet. That’s because there’s British artillery shells going over.’ They said ‘Oh, Go on, have a go’. So we went up to the coast and came hurtling back down at 200 feet and let them blaze away with their guns! Whether we hit anything or not, I think is debatable. When we got back for debriefing, another crew were sitting on the next table to us and the Wing Commander walked in and he was going absolutely spare. This sergeant pilot had gone down like we had machine-gunning on the front line but unfortunately, on his way down, he got a British artillery shell right through the fuselage in one side and out the other. It left this gaping hole about 3 feet across! Right through, and all they did was patch it up.17
The attack of 9th Australian Division on the northern flank began well. Three battalions (2/24th, 2/17th and 2/15th) encountered little opposition or delay in taking their first objective. The 2/48th Battalion, commanded by the same Lieutenant-Colonel ‘Tack’ Hammer who had led them at Tel el Eisa, had practised long and hard at capturing and consolidating positions and was as efficient on the night as in rehearsals. Only one battalion (2/13th) did not take all its objectives. Its mine-clearing ‘Scorpion’ tanks broke down and supporting Valentines from 40th RTR were delayed in the minefields. Heavy casualties ensued before the tanks finally arrived to assist.
On the southern flank of the XXX Corps attack, 1st South African Division, although delayed, managed to reach ‘Oxalic’ – the final objective. The division was fundamentally weaker than its Eighth Army counterparts, but used machine-guns to good effect in support of its attack. Raids, demonstrations and ‘Chinese attacks’ were carried out by both 1st Greek Brigade and 4th Indian Division. These were necessary, but costly, diversions.
In the centre, success in the attacks of 51st and New Zealand Divisions was essential for an armoured breakthrough. The attack by 51st Division was modelled on methods used by the division’s Great War antecedent and its controversial commander, ‘Uncle’ Harper, and witnessed first-hand by Wimberley.18 Four lines coloured green, red, black and blue marked the divisional objectives. Defended localities were given the Scottish place names and the attack frontage split into six lanes. Wimberley’s experience of the last war would probably have warned him of the likely problems arising from an attack frontage which widened as the advance went forward. On the flanks, therefore, units ‘leapfrogged’ each other in the attack to compensate for this.
In the northernmost lane, both 5th Black Watch and 1st Gordons suffered heavy casualties from machine-gun fire and several of their supporting tanks from 50th RTR were knocked out. Further south, Charles Barker, officially posted as a deserter having made an unauthorized return to his unit from a base camp in the Delta, was a liaison officer with 5/7th Gordons:
The barrage was not far in front of us as we moved steadily forward and were soon in the fog of war. Grit and sand thrown up by thousands of exploding projectiles reduced what visibility existed, the clean air became foul with the smell of cordite as we paced out the distance we covered keeping direction by compass and the red tracer shells from bofors anti-aircraft guns. It was important that we kept pace with the barrage in order to give the enemy no time to recover before we were upon him It was equally important that we did not get casualties from our own guns. The Battalion Intelligence officer was the main check advancing alongside Lieutenant-Colonel Roscoe Saunders, the Commanding Officer. It was a fantastic experience going into such an action with such a splendid Division accompanied by the pipes.19
When 5/7th Gordons reached the black line, Barker was sent back to report progress before being sent on a thrillingly dangerous reconnaissance mission with Universal carriers to discover whether the lead companies of 1st Gordons had reached their final objective. Discovering a gap in the German minefield, Barker mounted his carrier and ordered the driver forward:
Suddenly, above the general rumble of battle there was a shattering crash from our left as German 88mm anti-tank guns opened up on us. I tapped the driver’s steel helmet. Signalling him to press on with all speed, we ran the gauntlet of fire the whole length of the gap. Being carriers, we had a low silhouette and were unscathed. It was a very frightening experience being engaged by 88mm guns at close range. There was no warning, no whining of a shell’s approach, just a mighty bang and an enormous flash. On reaching the end of the gap I turned the patrol right and kept along the wire searching for the two companies but there was no sign of them. We circled an oil drum which later I discovered to be located near the east end of the Kidney feature. Our tracks were visible in the sand as we retraced our route and we were soon in the thick of it once again. The noise was appalling as the Germans opened up on us as we returned through the minefield gap. I spotted a Gordon lying wounded in the minefield. I stopped the carrier, leapt out, grabbed him and bundled him into the carrier and pressed on. Through a hail of fire we arrived back at Battalion HQ. I reported where we had been, the existence and extent of the minefield and the unmined German gap. Also, that our search along the wire on the far side indicated that A and C Companies were not near ‘Aberdeen’. Although I had failed in my task this was important information.20
Lieutenant-Colonel Murray therefore ordered his men to dig in on the black line. The apparent failure to take ‘Aberdeen’ was important as it would prevent 1st Armoured Division from getting on by dawn.
In the centre of 51st Division’s attack were 1st Black Watch and 7th Argyll & Sutherland Highlanders. Lieutenant Hugh Samwell of 7th Argyll & Sutherland Highlanders recounted:
Oddly enough I don’t remember the actual start – one moment I was lying on my stomach on the open rocky desert, the next I was walking steadily as if out for an evening stroll, on the right of a long line of men in extended order. To the right I could dimly see the tall thin figure of the major commanding the other forward company. He had a megaphone, and was shouting down the line, ‘Keep up there on the left – straighten up the line.’ I turned to my batman, who was walking beside me, and told him to run along the line and tell the sergeant in charge of the left-hand platoon to keep his direction from the right.21
Both battalions found the pace of the barrage at 100 yards every three minutes too slow for the eager infantry, as Private Frank Devaney remembered:
We worked to 100-yard lifts behind the guns. We were even curtailed to a certain walking pace for a hundred yards so the guns could be governed to this lift – so many minutes plus seconds of our walking time. They were adjusted to us. On the night, the Jocks were walking too quick – they were going too far, too fast. They had to slow down a bit so’s the guns could lift and we wouldn’t be suffering casualties from our own guns.22
After taking the red line, both battalions began to encounter fierce resistance, losing men to rifle machine-gun and mortar fire as well as the German anti-personnel ‘S’ mines and booby traps. Hugh Samwell recalled:
Mortar shells were landing right among us. I heard a man on my left say, ‘Oh, God!’ and I
saw him stagger and fall. The major was shouting again. I couldn’t hear what he said, but his company seemed to be already at grips with the enemy. At that moment I saw a single strand of wire ahead about breast high. I took a running jump at it and just cleared it. My sergeant, coming behind, started to climb over it, and immediately there was a blinding flash and a blast of air struck me on the back of the neck. I never saw that sergeant again. I remember wondering what instinct had made me jump that wire. Strange? I hadn’t been thinking of booby-traps.23
Entering the German minefields, Frank Devaney recognized the extent to which his survival was a lottery:
You’re in the minefield before you realize it. You know you’re in the minefield because they’ve got forward markings. They’ve got wire of their own and once in it, you don’t know the depth of it, you’ve got to keep going and you know within yourself that something’s going to happen. If they’re anti-personnel mines, you’re going to go with it. You’re hoping you’re going to get to the other side of it before you go up.24
It was doubly unfortunate therefore that Devaney was in the vicinity of a carrier when disaster struck, but his good fortune to live to tell the tale:
I was alongside it. There was a terrific explosion and we were just scattered about like a pack of cards and the carrier was just thrown over on its side. It went over a Teller mine – one of these anti-vehicle mines – and by luck the ammunition in the carrier stayed intact, it didn’t go off.25
Recovering and getting beyond the minefield, Devaney saw bloodlust descend on the attackers seeking revenge for friends killed alongside them in the attack. With admirable candidness he described the mix of emotions, environment, training and basic instinct that defined men’s actions in close combat: