by Bryn Hammond
We learned that the regiment was to be attached as armoured support to our old friends of the first ‘do’, the 2nd New Zealand Infantry Division under everyone’s hero, General Freyberg. On hearing this news I think everyone was a lot happier especially as we were all put into the picture and knew beforehand down to the last man exactly what we were supposed to do and when. It helps an enormous lot when one is aware of the general picture and not left stumbling along in the metaphorical dark, as had happened so many times in the past.89
Nevertheless, the task to which the brigade was assigned was not made less daunting by this knowledge, as Collins was well aware:
The role of the armour was to push through to just beyond Tell El Aqqaqir and this was just fine in view of the fact that we would be travelling in the dark, through our own minefields, through a Jerry anti-tank gun screen, through uncharted Jerry minefields plus anything else they planned to throw at us for good measure. As it later transpired we met all these obstacles and I don’t think any of our lads enjoyed it one little bit.90
When the combination of engineers, tanks and infantry had opened a channel, 9th Armoured Brigade’s task was to break the strong crescent of German anti-tank guns and defended positions along the Rahman track. One thing was obvious to all based on experience of the fighting since July: sending armour without adequate infantry support against dug-in anti-tank guns was a recipe for heavy casualties and potential disaster. As Major Anthony Wingfield of 10th Hussars observed:
In retrospect it seemed to be a Balaclava charge to expect that brigade to drive through a dug-in anti-tank screen in the dark without further infantry support – particularly after our experience of the deadliness of the 88s and the depth of the German anti-tank screens.91
Currie initially estimated his potential brigade losses as fifty per cent. However, Montgomery told both Freyberg and Lieutenant-Colonel Sir Peter Farquhar of 3rd Hussars that he was prepared to accept considerably higher casualties: ‘It’s got to be done and, if necessary, I am prepared to accept 100 per cent casualties in both personnel and tanks.’92 Nevertheless, responding to Freyberg, he deprecated the risk of such high losses because of the immediate follow through of 1st Armoured Division.
On the night of 30 October, Freyberg returned from touring the various units due to take part in the attack and, shortly after midnight, contacted Leese to ask for a postponement of 24 hours. He had encountered fatigue amongst many units and chaotic congestion immediately to the rear of the proposed attack front. Leese accepted Freyberg’s judgement and, subsequently, the attack was rescheduled for the night of 1–2 November.93
In preparation for the attack, the infantry had been drilled in a skill familiar to their Great War forebears. Ernie Kerans remembered:
The battalion moved up north to await its turn for the big battle. Here, camped by the side of the ‘Boat track’ we rested and waited, away from the shelling. We had a mobile canteen and were near enough to the sea to swim. To get ready for our part every man had to practice walking a 100 yards in exactly 2½ minutes, which was to be between ‘lifts’ in the ‘creeping barrage’.94
When told of their role in the forthcoming attack, most of the men were canny enough to dismiss the suggestion that powerful artillery support would make this ‘a piece of cake’. Kerans continued:
The men could see it was not going to be so easy. Could see the officers were ‘chain smoking’, noticed one or two unsteady on their pins with drink taken for unsteady nerves. One officer, accidentally (?) shot his toe off. Anyway front line ‘squaddies’ lived for the moment and made good use of the swimming parties and the goods from the mobile NAAFI. Enemy planes broke up an odd swimming party, but no one was hurt. We spent a couple of nice days there but soon it was time to leave.95
With the delay in operations, it was the afternoon of 1 November when they moved up to their forming-up positions. The Durhams’ seven-mile approach march – ‘a bloody long way’96 – with equipment was especially galling, as Kerans described:
At 16:00 hours we halted for the evening meal – a tin of M and V* – not much to die off. An hour later we continued not so much as a column as an untidy ‘Crocodile’. Thick layers of sand clung to our skin rags wrapped round the bolts of our weapons, to ensure they would work when needed.97
The final approach was through Australian positions:
The last few yards were through a wired-off gap in a minefield. It was lined with Aussies, who watched us in silence or quietly cheered us on in half-whispers. One slapped me on the back and whispered ‘Sic em for me, Limey’. I got the queer feeling we were going to a dangerous sort of football match. The continuous growling of the guns and the whining of the shells seemed unreal.98
The men themselves were generally quiet, realizing the importance of the occasion and that they were going to have a fight on their hands. Private Jackson Browne of 8th DLI remembered:
We were going in about 1 o’clock in the morning. You just get your kit off and lie down. They give you plenty of warning. You sit and talk and one thing and another. A lot of tension. Everybody’s tense. You’ve got to be to a certain degree – wondering what tomorrow’s going to bring.99
The atmosphere on the eve of Supercharge was redolent of infantry attacks in the Great War. Private John Drew, another member of 8th DLI, wrote that:
We lay there for quite a while and after the sweat of the march we were beginning to shiver. We only had KD [Khaki Drill] on, so we cuddled up together to keep warm, and you believe me ‘Sardines’ had nothing on us. It was here we had an issue of rum and nothing was ever more welcome. In fact, we felt ten times better for it.100
With rum giving the illusion, if not the reality, of warmth – ‘the body glowed even if it was so much goose-flesh outside’101 – the men who had had ‘a pretty shitty wait’102 were now as prepared as they could be for their moment to arrive.
Even whilst the infantry were getting into position, sixty-eight Wellington bombers led by nineteen flare-dropping Albacores began attacking targets about the Rahman Track and Tell el Aqqaqir. These attacks continued for seven hours. Night-flying Hurricanes attacked the Stukas’ base and Royal Navy Motor Torpedo Boats made demonstration attacks along the coast. Supercharge would be no surprise, although its focal point might be.
* ‘Centre of gravity’ i.e. focal point of the attack.
* Eden had been a Brigade Major in 198th Brigade, 66th Division in late 1918.
* Australian Rules ‘Footy’ team have eighteen players on the field.
* The two (not four) medium regiments available were 64th and 69th Medium, R.A.
* Meat and vegetable stew, aka ‘Maconachie’.
CHAPTER NINE
‘LA CADUTA DEGLI DEI’
For the watching Bernard Freyberg the barrage for Operation Supercharge was disappointing. He had envisaged something more spectacular than Lightfoot. The anti-climax was almost certainly because, despite the barrage’s use of 192 field guns with 168 further guns employed on other tasks like counter-battery fire, the attack front was considerably narrower than before. Consequently, the artillery flashes were much more concentrated.1 It was rather different for the attacking infantry, as Private Jackson Browne of 8th DLI observed:
‘Get your kit on’. And then when the time comes, everybody’s just waiting. Half a dozen guns opened up – pop, pop, pop, pop ssshhhhhwwww!! Then all of a sudden you hear – Bugger! The earth starts to shake. Well, you looked back and saw that lot. God Almighty! Hell!
It was well organized. On each flank – on the battalion flanks – they had Bofors guns firing tracer every two or three minutes so that you could keep on line. The barrage was going now for about two minutes then they’d drop two or three smoke bombs – they were a bloody nuisance… But when they dropped you knew the barrage was lifting. You just moved in.2
Never before had British infantry received such artillery support in the Desert War.3 The tried and trusted techniques from the Great War (as during Lightfoot
) were again applicable, as Captain Ian English described:
We realized that [the barrage] in fact was our armour. That was our protection. The barrage stood on the opening line for twenty minutes while we closed up. This was the first attack behind a barrage we’d done and it was emphasized that one should always be within a hundred yards of it so one can arrive on the enemy position within a few moments of the barrage passing over.4
Among 9th DLI, it was Lieutenant Wilfred White’s first action:
The noise was terrific, gunfire, shell bursts, mortars, rifle fire, machine-gun fire, the skirl of the bagpipes, the shouts of our charging infantry all combining in an incredible and unbelievable cacophony of sound. And above this noise we could hear from time to time the call of our Company Commander’s hunting horn. It made us feel rather special and somehow comforted us.5
Major Teddy Worrall’s hunting horn – another example of the eccentricities of British officers in combat throughout the Second World War.
The barrage rolled forwards, battering a path, until pausing at 0220hrs on the first objective. Both infantry brigades advanced to time behind it, as English recalled:
Promptly at 0105hrs we crossed the start line in formation with bayonets fixed. At that time it was a pretty dark night because the moon was well past full and ten minutes later the barrage started. We had been expecting a lot of noise. We heard the guns behind us and the flashes we could see and the whistle of the shells going over our heads and then an enormous crash and clouds of dust in front of them.6
The terrain, seemingly flat, did little to assist the advance. English described the scene:
It wasn’t flat, but it was extremely open. There were little bits of scrub. When you got down on the ground you could see in fact there were undulations and little crests. If you took a quick look at it, standing on your feet, you’d say they weren’t there at all. But in fact these little crests and pieces of dead ground were extremely useful.7
Dead ground, however, could conceal Italian and German defenders whilst the absence of any features, except the line of telegraph poles marking the Rahman track, made it especially hard for any officer or sergeant with compass and map ‘trying to walk a straight course through the inferno for more than two miles to an objective which was only a pencil line on a map’.8 Jackson Browne remembered:
The company commander had a bloke – his batman. He had to pace this out all the way. He had a hell of a job. He had to count the paces. Somewhere along the line – it was about 5–6,000 yards we had to do – I think when we got to about three and a half thousand yards we had to stop for consolidation. Find out what was happening.9
Despite assistance from 28th New Zealand (Māori) Battalion, which was to deal with a strongpoint on the right flank, it was the three DLI battalions who encountered the greatest problems. Initially, however, their advance met little opposition, as Jackson Browne recalled:
The first thing I knew was some of the Germans were coming out hysterical. What a bloody state they were in. God Almighty! There was dozens of them coming out. Some of them was cradling and crying and one thing and another. It must’ve been bad then right under that barrage. But his machine-gunners were still having a go – the diehards, y’know. Odd mortars and that coming over.10
The Māori battalion had a tough fight in fulfilling its task and suffered almost 100 casualties, including its inspirational commander, Fred Baker, who was seriously wounded. The attack was conducted wholly in the spirit of its warrior heritage, as one of its officers, Major Charles Moihi Te Arawaka Bennett, made clear:
We had to fight almost every inch of the way. We were never far behind the barrage which gave us good protection and did some damage too… At one spot we were opposed by a wall of enemy firing at us with all they had. We all broke into the haka ‘Ka mate! ka mate!’ and charged straight in with the bayonet… It was the most spirited attack that I myself had taken part in.11
The advance of 151st Brigade was led by 8th and 9th DLI. Ernie Kerans was with the latter’s Headquarters Company when they first met determined resistance:
The barrage was literally raising the dust and through it I could see the single explosions of shells and grenades and multiples from scores of Spandaus and other machine-guns. My Alamein was in full swing. I realised I still had my rifle slung. Bullets were now plucking at our clothes in large numbers. The bullets and bits of shrapnel came like a shower of deadly hailstones and we had to throw ourselves down to live. On the right a vehicle burst into flames and by the light I could see A Company men trying to advance. We were ahead of them but some of them were still on their feet, others were falling or had done. There were tracers amongst them and explosions all around them. Over the sounds of the barrage and the small-arms could be heard curses and the cries of the wounded. Someone in a pitiful voice was crying for his mother.12
Kerans, surrounded by the terrifying sights and sounds of battle, did what the ‘poor bloody infantry’ always did in such circumstances: buried his nose in the dirt and hoped not to get hit:
From everywhere ‘Stretcher Bearer, Stretcher BEARER!’ Whatever had been on fire went out and we were just left with noise. Sight had gone but the screams and curses mixed with the chatter of the machine-guns and explosions of shells continued. We hugged the ground and bullets skimmed our heads. Ken took a bullet in his shoulder.13
Similar resistance was met by 8th DLI. Men were helpless as they saw mates killed by their side.
Private John Drew’s memories were bitter:
Though we had to keep apart Joe and I kept in touch with one another till we were held down by machine-gun fire… Things here looked pretty grim and it was only the audacity of an NCO that got us out of it and which cost him an arm. By this time Joe and I had got our Gun going again and we began to advance with the section. The next thing I knew was a tremendous crash behind us. As I fell forward I caught a glimpse of Joe going down. Picking myself up, I discovered that, except for a few scratches, I was OK. I then walked over to Joe and found much to my regret that there was nothing I could do for him. Looking round I found what had been the cause of it all, one of the Jerrys had feigned dead. I then picked up the Gun. I must admit I was pretty mad by this time and let him have a full magazine. I am pretty certain he never lived to tell the tale.14
As the attack fragmented, control by officers and NCOs became difficult to exercise. Lieutenant Jamie Kennedy of 9th DLI, describing his experiences in the third person, admitted his helplessness:
The company came to tanks, some dug into the ground, and here the fear of the power of the tanks seemed to make Jamie’s men crazed; he realised that they were beyond accepting any orders other than his finger pointing out targets. If a German tried to get out of his tank no one waited to see if he was surrendering; two men jumped on the tank, pushed the German back in, dropped a grenade in and closed the lid.15
From a variety of motivations, men in this extreme environment of savage violence and fear committed acts that defied justification by rational explanations of revenge, orders or conditioning. The most basic instinct of survival – kill or be killed – overwhelmed them. Clear concepts of ‘combat’ and ‘atrocity’ were lost, as is evident from Jackson Browne’s account:
Quite a few went back as prisoners but there was a hell of a lot got their come-uppance. You see that list of Montgomery’s – the last list we got, the final one about what he was going to do – he said the watchword is ‘Kill Germans’. So that’s what they did. They were shooting the buggers down like they was flies. Blokes who’d never shot any bugger before were having a go. They certainly were. I don’t know if that’s good or bad. It was good from our point of view!16
Browne witnessed further callous and brutal actions, some committed in cold blood:
We were having casualties what with one thing and another but we had no problems with mines or anything like that. We found two blokes – one was dead with the barrage and the other was typical German with his blond hair and tha
t. They had a tin box. I think they’d been going to lay booby traps and they’d been caught in the barrage. So, he’s lying there and Phil Thompson from Bishop Auckland shot the bugger. He said: ‘_____ !’ (Bad Language – you know). ‘Laying so-and-so booby traps!’17
Distasteful as it may be to citizens of the modern democracies, such acts were committed in the defeat of fascism, giving the lie to the myth of ‘Krieg Ohne Hass’.* Moreover, these actions were exceptional neither in the desert nor in the war in general.
Lieutenant-Colonel William Watson’s 6th DLI followed the lead battalions. The necessity of adequate ‘mopping up’ of resistance after the first advance (another Great War principle that was still applicable) was brought painfully home to Watson:
The tragedy was that in our enthusiasm we must have walked over some of these Italians – single chaps or ones or twos – who lay ‘doggo’ as we passed. Undoubtedly one of them killed my RSM, [Arthur] Page, killed my doctor who was tending [the wounded] and also Sergeant Fairley, who … played cricket for Crook and for the battalion down in Dorset. They all three were killed together and it was a great blow. I also think young Vickers, who had just come to the battalion, who was a splendid junior officer from a well-known Durham family and whose father farmed and was an auctioneer and valuer, he too was killed.18
Watson, a true County Durham man, felt these losses of his ‘neighbours’ keenly. His men sought out the line of dug-in Italian armour marking the point at which they swung to form a north-facing flank for the bridgehead:
Sure enough, we came across this group of dug-in tanks. It was almost too good to be true that we should find them there. Practically every one of the crews was still inside and I remember walking up to one and the corporal shouting ‘Stand back, sir, stand back!’ after planting a limpet mine that sticks onto the armour plating. It just blew inwards and killed the crew. I saw A Company having great fun trying to set one alight. But we did the turn and we got into these positions. The positions that we held were absolutely in the right place. Then the guns opened up again for the 8th and 9th Battalions to continue their advance.19