Ortona

by Mark Zuehlke

  Taking a slightly different line of approach than ‘C’ Company, Ware was advancing with his headquarters combat section, following closely on the heels of ‘D’ Company and the machine-gun platoon of Saskatoon Light Infantry assigned to the battalion. Ware liked to lead from the front and he was determined to get into Villa Rogatti by dawn so he could personally direct the defence.5 With him was Lance Corporal Jack Haley, his radio signaller. Haley and his assistant were using two mules to transport the heavy #22 radio set Ware used to communicate with brigade and divisional headquarters. The radio was usually transported by Bren carrier or truck, but neither of these vehicles was currently usable, so Haley had resorted to mules. The radio was slung on one mule and its two large rechargeable batteries were on the other animal, with wires running between. This gave him power and enabled the use of the radio while moving forward. The two mules were linked together by a chain running between their necks. A wiry Moroccan muleteer was along to handle the large beasts.

  As Ware’s group moved into the valley, Haley saw tracers arcing through the fading darkness. It seemed to be mostly German fire concentrated on fixed lines rather than a firefight. A lot of the firing came from Schmeisser 9-millimetre submachine guns. Just as Haley and his mules started heading directly down into the valley, one of these guns opened up with a long burst of fire into the brush some way off from the advancing column. The mule skinner jumped and took one long, wild-eyed look over at Haley. “No good, Johnny,” he said, then scampered off up the slope and disappeared.

  Haley was now a mule skinner. As they descended into the valley, the soldiers near the mules groused in whispers that the damned animals were making too much noise and were going to draw German fire. Haley could hardly blame them because it was true. The mules were blundering into the stabilizing poles the Italian farmers used to train their grape vines, and as every pole cracked underfoot the racket was terrific. With each outburst of noise caused by the mules, the German Schmeisser fire intensified.

  Things suddenly went from bad to worse when the mules, led inexpertly by Haley, blundered one on either side of a tree, whereupon the connecting chain pulled them up abruptly in their tracks. Both mules started pawing the ground, snorting, and trying to bull forward. Haley and his assistant vainly attempted to guide the animals backward to untangle them from the tree. The German gunfire increased in volume and intensity, tracers searching along the hillside for the source of the noise. Then the chain snapped and the two mules crashed off down the hill, the one with the radio trailing electrical wires in its wake. The only consolation for Haley was that the German fire stopped creeping toward him.

  Frustrated, sure he would never see the mules or his radio equipment again, Haley passed word down the advancing line of soldiers ahead for anyone seeing the mules to gather them in and wait. To his surprise, just before the river Haley caught up to the mules, with two hefty infantrymen holding them by their chains. The men handed over the animals and all too happily departed. Haley hooked the wires back to the battery, discovered he still had power and was able to go on the air, and then continued on to the river. As his mule team started across, he realized it was just about light. The river was shallow, barely boot-top depth, but daylight was coming surprisingly fast. “My God,” Haley thought, “they’ll see us for sure. Here we are on this riverbed and we’ll get shot at.” But the Germans, so eager to fire at any sound only minutes before, were inexplicably silent as the entire formation of soldiers crossed the river and started up the slope toward Villa Rogatti.

  Things remained quiet the whole way up the main trail into the village. Once inside, Ware established his headquarters in a farmhouse overlooking the valley on the community’s southeastern flank. Haley and his assistant quickly dug a slit trench next to the house, put up the radio aerial, and established an excellent link with brigade HQ.6

  While Ware’s party crossed the Moro and came up on Villa Rogatti, ‘C’ Company had advanced at first light against the positions that had earlier blocked them. This time there was no opposition. About one hundred yards uphill from where the ambush had been sprung, Garbutt’s platoon discovered a dead German lying in a slit trench. There was no indication of what had killed the man.

  The soldiers pressed on and reached some relatively level terrain across which a number of empty slit trenches were scattered. Farther uphill, Garbutt saw a figure run across an opening and heard a man yell, “Herr Oberleutnant.” Garbutt moved up quickly, expecting a fight, but found only two soldiers, who he thought were probably Poles, sitting in a slit trench. They immediately surrendered.

  Continuing up the hill, Garbutt next saw a German soldier moving around near a machine gun only about seventy yards away. He seemed to be picking up things lying on the ground, shell casings perhaps. Garbutt and his platoon opened fire. The German dashed to his gun and started firing back, ripping off burst after burst toward the Canadians for a full minute or more. Then he must have realized that he was in trouble and outgunned, for he jumped away from the gun and ran uphill through some small brush and high grass. Garbutt’s platoon kept shooting. Brens and rifles were pounding away but he disappeared apparently unscathed. “Amazing,” was all Garbutt could think.7

  From there, the advance into Villa Rogatti went unopposed and ‘C’ Company fell in just behind battalion HQ to serve as the reserve company. The other companies were dug in throughout the village and there seemed to be a lot of firing going on. But, with four rifle companies, its medium machine-gun platoon, and combat HQ section all in position, there was no doubt that the PPCLI had secured its objective and was determined to stay. Ware was even beginning to think it possible the battalion could achieve its next objective: to clear the way for an advance by the Loyal Edmonton Regiment through Villa Rogatti to the fortified villages of Villa Jubatti and Villa Caldari, and on from there to cut the Ortona-Orsogna lateral highway. Such a move would isolate the German west flank, which rested on the fortress position of Orsogna. This would open a route for outflanking Ortona, perhaps allowing the town to fall to the Canadians without a shot being fired in its streets.8 If the tanks got over and reinforced the PPCLI, Ware began to feel such an exploitation of his battalion’s success was possible. First, however, he had to repel the counterattacks that were surely coming.9

  Morning skies over Villa Rogatti were clear, the sun’s surprising warmth raising steam off the soggy clothing of German corpses scattered among the surrounding olive groves and vineyards and in the streets, backyards, and houses. But the fighting continued unabated. Shortly after dawn, it was evident that the 90th Panzer Grenadiers’ 200th Regiment had recovered from the surprise that had caused it to lose the village the previous night to the Patricias. Mortar and artillery field guns started pounding the houses and streets; machine-gunners and riflemen opened up from the dense cover of the surrounding farmland.10

  Crouched in his slit trench, bullets and shrapnel flying overhead, Lance Corporal Jack Haley hunkered over his radio, ensuring that brigade HQ was kept informed of developments in the battle. He was also passing firing coordinates to the supporting artillery regiment on behalf of its forward observation officer, whose radio was broken. The FOO’s radio loss was actually good news to Haley because the set’s batteries were still strong, giving him some badly needed spares. Haley’s main concern was that, lacking any opportunity for resupply of fresh batteries, his radio would fail at a critical moment. Responding to orders from Ware, the FOO was concentrating artillery shoots from the gun companies at the town’s edges to break up German formations trying to fight their way back into Villa Rogatti’s streets. The intensity of the German counterbombardment and lightweapons fire seemed to keep increasing. Shrapnel flew all over battalion HQ’s farmyard, snapping through the house’s windows. Bullets scythed the air. Haley saw a young girl, not more than six or seven years old, run into the street between two buildings and abruptly tumble to the ground. A soldier rushed over, scooped her up, and carried her to cover. Later he saw the girl
being treated by the medical officer, who told him she had miraculously been grazed across the lips by a bullet. Although both lips were severely swollen, she would be all right. This was not the case for Haley’s recalcitrant mules. They were sprawled beside a building, legs up, bodies continuing to be mangled by shrapnel and shell blasts.11

  For the rifle companies on the village edge, conditions were much worse. Fire coming into the west of the town was thicker than anything the PPCLI had yet seen in Italy. Having only the ammunition each man had carried across the river on his back, the soldiers were running desperately short. One Bren gunner refused to fire on enemy groups of “less than twenty,” in an effort to conserve bullets.12 ‘B’ Company Sergeant Major W.D. Davidson scrambled back to where ‘C’ Company waited in reserve by battalion HQ and begged three bandoliers of ammunition. Throwing the heavy load over his shoulders, he lurched back to his men with the vital resupply.13

  Early in the morning, the Germans increased the pressure on the PPCLI by launching an all-out counterattack. Luckily for the PPCLI, the attack’s execution was poorly organized. Obviously confused about the overall Canadian disposition, a platoon of Panzer Grenadiers began forming up behind a hedge directly opposite battalion HQ. Ware looked out a second-storey window and beckoned for the men around him to grab their guns. About five battalion staff, including Ware who carried a Thompson submachine gun, poked their guns out the window and broke up the German formation with an intense volley of fire. The Germans scattered back into the vegetation, leaving several dead.14 One officer and a sergeant were pinned down in some brush, but ignored calls to surrender. A couple of soldiers were detailed to ensure the Germans were kept in place with rifle fire every time they tried to slip away.15

  Meanwhile, troops in the forward sections of ‘A’ Company watched helplessly as the Panzer Grenadiers manhandled an antitank gun up the hill to a firing position beyond the range of their weapons. Minutes later, shells from the gun started punching holes in the buildings they were using for cover. Infantry, supported by heavy machine-gun fire and the antitank gun, forced their way into the streets. Major Bucko Watson shifted his ‘A’ Company platoons to meet the threat, but one five-man section under the command of Lieutenant R. Carey found itself isolated and out of ammunition. The unit had to surrender and the Germans quickly led the Canadian soldiers away before a rescue could be effected. Casualties in the company were heavy and it was beginning to seem that the Germans might wipe out more sections.16

  Realizing he could do little to influence events from battalion HQ, Ware dashed 300 yards across open ground raked by machine-gun fire to link up with Watson. The battalion commander took over command of the company and proceeded to reorganize its units to meet and repel the attack through effective counterassaults supported by fire from other sections. Slowly the Germans gave ground and withdrew into the tangled vegetation of the shell-torn vineyards.17

  Repelling this attack brought the PPCLI no respite. The tired soldiers soon heard the distinctive roar of engines and the squeaking, clanking sound made by the tracks of German tanks. Supported by the 75-millimetre cannon and mounted machine guns of several Panzer Mark IVs, German infantry were soon in among the Canadian positions on the west flank of the village. Crouched in his slit trench, continuing to send orders that directed the artillery bombardment practically into the battalion’s forward positions, Haley looked longingly toward the eastern road snaking up out of the Moro valley. He could hear tanks down there grinding and churning away. But it was obvious they were mired in the mud and having a rough time getting up. If they didn’t arrive bloody soon, Haley worried the battalion might just be overrun.18

  Ware, sharing this concern, sent Lieutenant W. Riddell sprinting back toward the river to find the tanks and guide them into the village. Rushing down the slope, Riddell jumped off a ledge and landed directly on top of a hiding German soldier. Hearing a groan from the man, the officer drew his pistol only to discover another German coming out of some brush with his hands up. Riddell’s orders were to get to the tanks, not to mess about with surrendering Germans, but luckily his orderly was in tow. Handing off the surprisingly docile Germans — who outgunned Riddell’s little pistol — to the similarly armed orderly, Riddell hurried on. A few minutes later, he linked up with the commander of the 44th Royal Tank Regiment squad. Four of the unit’s tanks were hopelessly bogged down in the mud, but the other seven were able to advance into Villa Rogatti.19

  “Just like the cavalry in the movies,” Haley thought as the British tankers roared up over the lip of the valley. The tanks rolled past battalion HQ and drove directly into the battle raging on the west side of the village. With the appearance of the tanks, the German officer and his sergeant who had been hiding near headquarters came out with hands up and walked into the Canadian perimeter.20

  The tanks reached ‘A’ Company at a critical moment, just as the unit was becoming increasingly disorganized, ammunition was rapidly disappearing, and casualties were mounting. Although the company had tried knocking out the German tanks with its PIATs, none of the unreliable and difficult-to-fire rounds from the hand-held antitank weapon had scored a crippling hit. Formally designated “Projector Infantry Anti-Tank,” the PIAT was a thirty-two-pound shoulder-braced launcher, firing a 2.5-pound bomb that looked like a short-barrelled version of the more commonly recognized American bazooka. It required an extremely steady hand to aim and fire accurately. And, unless the firing soldier was lucky enough to score a hit on one of the more lightly armoured sections of a tank, the chance of doing significant damage was slight. Most Canadian soldiers hated the weapon, knowing that it was probably going to fail in knocking out the tank while also bringing the man firing it to the tank crew’s attention.21

  As the British tanks rolled up, almost everyone in ‘A’ Company from its commander to a number of lowly privates tumbled out of firing positions, rushed up to the tanks, and started pointing out targets for immediate attention. The British tank commanders leaned out to receive directions. Everybody ignored the incoming German fire, which Ware later described as “flying so thick it didn’t matter whether one was laying down, standing up, or running.” Within moments of the tanks opening fire, a green flare went up from the enemy lines and the German armour and infantrymen retreated from the village.22 Ware estimated that this first counterattack had been launched by two Panzer Grenadier companies and a squadron of tanks. As the Germans withdrew, ‘A’ Company threw out a hasty fighting patrol to capture the abandoned antitank gun and drag it into the perimeter. It was 1130 hours. Ware ordered his companies to start digging in and to expect another counterattack at any moment. The British tanks slipped into hull-down hiding positions behind various houses, but the squadron’s commander warned Ware that their ammunition was in short supply.23

  At noon a mule train arrived, carrying medical supplies and precious munitions for the infantry. Nearly forty men, most from ‘A’ Company, were being given the best treatment possible by medical officer Captain W.L.C. McGill in the cover of a couple of buildings near the battalion HQ. It was impossible to safely evacuate them from Villa Rogatti to the other side of the Moro because of the continuous shelling. Shortly after the mule train arrived, a British tank rumbled in filled to the brim with more shells for the tankers.24

  In the early afternoon the good weather turned poor. A light rain began falling and fog crept in. Haley, worried that the rain might leak inside the radio casing and short out the unit, sent his assistant to find a more sheltered position. The man located a small stone hut near battalion HQ with a narrow window that the aerial could be extended through. A few minutes after they lugged the radio gear to the new location, a mortar barrage dumped down on the farmyard and a direct hit turned his slit trench into a crater.

  Haley began to wonder why the hell he had been in such a hurry to go off to war. There he had been at sixteen years old, standing in a line in the Seaforth Highlanders of Canada barracks with a lot of young, pimply boys obviously not
far past puberty. The recruiting officer had come down the line asking ages and with each pronouncement of “Nineteen, sir,” sent the boy back for his birth certificate. Haley had fled his home in Medicine Hat several weeks before, riding the boxcars to Vancouver, heading for the adventure and excitement of war. When the officer confronted him, Haley snapped, “Nineteen, sir!” and cracked his heels sharply together while assuming a stance of perfect attention. The officer grinned without humour. “I don’t bloody believe you, boy, but you’re in.” Next the officers learned that the former Boy Scout knew Morse code. He was off to the Royal Canadian Signal Corps, then upon graduation from the signallers’ school was eventually assigned to the PPCLI as Ware’s personal radio signaller. Which had brought him to Villa Rogatti, where the excitement and adventure he had sought was just a little too immediate for his liking.25

  At 1530 hours, ‘B’ Company’s Captain Robertson signalled Ware that a German attack was coming his way. He estimated the Germans were sending in about seventy infantrymen in support of nine Mark IV tanks. The artillery fire that had continued to make any movement inside the perimeter a deadly undertaking suddenly increased, and the German machine-gunners hiding in the olive groves and vineyards cranked up their volume of fire. Ware again rushed from the battalion HQ across about 500 yards of largely open ground saturated by enemy machine-gun and mortar fire to reach the British tanks. Riding on the outside hull of one of the tanks, he guided them to a position that provided a perfect field of fire against the approaching armour. In conference with the tank commander, it was agreed the tanks should stay hidden until the enemy were very close. Ware then moved off across more hotly contested fire zones to reach ‘B’ Company and assist Robertson in mounting his perimeter defence.26