by Mark Zuehlke
The German response was further hampered by continued poor intelligence and an unwillingness throughout the higher levels of the ponderous command chain to abandon preconceived notions of how the Allied invasion strategy must develop. By June 9, Oberkommando der Wehrmacht staff, with the primary exception of Operations Chief Generaloberst Alfred Jodl, who still called for immediate elimination of the beachhead despite the lack of forces to carry out such a mission, recognized that throwing the Allies back into the sea was no longer feasible. Yet OKW offered no instructions to Army Group B’s Generalfeldmarschall Erwin Rommel to develop a new strategic response. Effectively, Rommel was left to his own devices and then severely hobbled when Hitler decreed there could be no reallocation of Fifteenth Army divisions away from the Pas de Calais area to Normandy.
Remarkably, almost everyone at OKW, as well as Commander-in-Chief West Generalfeldmarschall Gerd von Rundstedt and Rommel, still clung to the notion—encouraged by the continuing Operation Fortitude deception—that a second, grander invasion was imminent. So Fifteenth Army remained pinned on the coastline northeast of Normandy, while Rommel received vague promises that divisions from far distant fronts would be forthcoming. That these could not possibly arrive in time to contribute to the outcome of the beachhead phase of the battle went unsaid. Despite the fact that most OKW staff acknowledged the beachhead could not be eliminated with the divisions Rommel had on hand, Hitler countenanced no other strategy. OKW directives continued to urge Rommel to “recover the entire length of the Normandy coastline.” Lacking sufficient forces to deliver a major offensive capable of overwhelming the Allied divisions, OKW messages, drafted to assure Hitler that the staff were not adopting defeatist attitudes, insisted the beachhead could be “broken down by concentrated local counterattacks and then ‘demolished in detail.’”10
Panzer Group West commander, General der Panzertruppen Leo Freiherr Geyr von Schweppenburg, still hoped to launch precisely such an operation by unleashing the three divisions of I Panzer Corps gathered along the Normandy front against the Second British Army lines early on June 10. Rommel, however, recognized that these divisions had all become so entangled in checking the British-Canadian advance towards Caen and Carpiquet airport that they could not effectively switch to the offensive from their current positions and hope to achieve any gains of consequence. More likely, they would end up “demolished in detail” and that could not be allowed.
He decided that a pause was needed, during which the Panzer divisions could be extracted from the front line and replaced by infantry divisions. While these fresh divisions kept the Allies contained, I Panzer Corps could reorganize and then perform its proper battlefield function by forming the spearhead for a well-coordinated counter-strike that might just succeed in carrying out Hitler’s directives. At 1730 hours on June 9, Rommel issued an instruction to Seventh Army and I SS Panzer Corps. “There should be a return to the defensive in the sector between the Vire and Orne and the counterattack should be postponed until all preparations had been completed.”11 Rommel planned to await the arrival of ii Parachute Corps, which would replace the Panzer divisions in the line with a highly competent and determined force. The question, of course, remained of when this corps would actually be detached by Hitler from where it was positioned in Brittany and sent marching to Normandy.
Yet Rommel could not afford to simply go on the defensive until the paratroops arrived. To do so would allow General Bernard Montgomery to set the pace of offensive operations. Consequently, while directing German forces between the Vire and Orne to assume a defensive posture, those east of the Orne were to counterattack 6th Airborne Division on the morning of June 10. On this front, Rommel was fortunate to have available two largely unscathed divisions—the 711th Infantry Division and 346th Grenadier Division—as well as elements of the badly mauled 716th Infantry Division and the still formidable 21st Panzer Division.
This latter division had, in accordance with instructions from von Schweppenburg, launched a localized counterattack on June 9. A battle group, formed around the nucleus of Major Hans von Luck’s 125th Panzer Grenadier Regiment, was ordered to launch “a decisive attack on Escoville, advance on Ranville, and take possession of the Orne bridges.” Seizing these bridges would isolate 6th Airborne Division and the British battalions that had marched from Sword to reinforce its hold east of the river. Capture of the bridges would also fully expose 3rd British Infantry Division’s left flank and put its hold on Sword in jeopardy. It was an ambitious and audacious plan, and von Luck’s regiment was bolstered with significant artillery and armour for its execution. Tanks and self-propelled guns were provided by 22nd Panzer Regiment’s No. 4 Company and three batteries of the 200th Assault-Gun Battalion, while a company of 88-millimetre guns from the 220th Antitank Battalion would provide covering fire protection from any British armour in the area. The 21st Panzer Reconnaissance Battalion would lead the attack. Generalleutnant Edgar Feuchtinger, 21st Panzer Division’s commander, assured von Luck he would have all the division’s artillery supporting the attack for as long as its ammunition held out.12
Assembling the battle group before dawn, von Luck deployed the antitank guns on a hill south of Escoville to cover the battle group’s advance. The major placed his small command group immediately behind the reconnaissance battalion troops to enable him to exert combat control. To avoid detection by artillery and naval gun spotters, the battle group struck out of the darkness at Escoville and quickly fought its way into the village against heavy resistance from British paratroopers. The moment it turned light, however, the paratroops called naval gunfire down on the centre of Escoville and the German attack collapsed. Four of the ten Panzers were knocked out by the naval guns and about forty Panzer Grenadiers died before von Luck pulled back to the start line.13
WHILE THE 21ST Panzer Division had attempted this breakthrough at Escoville, the 857th and 858th regiments of the 346th Grenadier Division were still licking their wounds from a botched attack launched the previous day against 1st Canadian Parachute Battalion. Having had their first assault on le Mesnil crossroads driven off by a counter-bayonet charge on June 7, these two regiments had tried to overrun the crossroads again on June 8. Nightlong concentrations of artillery and mortar fire preceded the attempt. Then, in the dull predawn light, the paratroops had looked along the road approaching the intersection from the south and spotted a column of infantry supported by several Mark IV tanks and self-propelled guns forming up. Advancing in marching ranks, as if on parade, the grenadiers headed their way.
As the parachute battalion’s mortar crews zeroed in the three-inch mortars that had fortuitously arrived the day before from the beachhead, the only explanation they could muster for the bizarre German advance is that they believed the paratroops lacked mortars. If so, they were rudely disabused of this notion as the tubes started coughing out rounds as quickly as the mortar men could drop them down the spout. Explosions ripped ragged holes in the advancing column before the grenadiers realized their mistake and broke out into an extended line to continue closing on the crossroads inside the cover of dense orchards lining the roadway. The tanks, meanwhile, pressed up the road, disdainfully shrugging off the exploding mortar rounds, while the SPGs pulled into sheltered positions from which they enjoyed clear fields of fire on the Canadian lines.14
‘B’ and ‘C’ Company directly faced the advancing Germans, with ‘A’ Company near the brickworks unable to bring any fire to bear at all. This meant that only about 160 Canadians were squared off against a far superior force backed by tanks, against which the paratroops could do nothing until they came within the hundred-yard range of the PIAT guns. The torrent of fire thrown out by the paratroops forced the grenadiers back as they tried to cross the field directly in front of the Canadian line, but one Mark IV ground on alone directly into the point where the two company lines met. From here, it raked the slit trenches on either side with its machine guns and 75-millimetre gun, inflicting heavy casualties on the neares
t platoons. Faced with such devastating fire, several precious minutes passed before one of the battalion’s PIAT gunners was able to crawl close to the tank. He quickly punched two explosive charges against its hide, and although these failed to penetrate, they convinced the tank crew to call it a day. The tank rolled two hundred yards back across the field to where the grenadiers had taken up position around a large farmhouse surrounded by an orchard, which on one side extended almost to the Canadian lines.15
From here, the Germans raked the Canadian lines with heavy machine guns and accurate sniper fire. Leaving the Germans in possession of the farm put the entire battalion position at risk, yet this was a typical Norman fortress, with its courtyard enclosed by a high stone wall, through which the grenadiers had carved firing slits for the machine guns. Lieutenant Colonel G.F.P. Bradbrooke told ‘B’ Company commander Captain Peter Griffin that he must wrest control of the farmhouse from the Germans no matter the cost.
With the entire battalion now numbering fewer than three hundred men, Griffin could only scrape together an assault force of seventy-five men, composed of fifty men from two of his platoons and twenty-five soldiers from Headquarters Company. Griffin’s plan was simple. The ‘B’ Company component under his command would conduct a frontal assault, while Lieutenant Norm Toseland flanked the German position with the other troops and hit the farm from the south.16
After briefing the men, Griffin said, “Fix bayonets.” Hearing that chilling command, Private Mark Lockyer thought, “This is idiotic.” To attack a heavily defended position without artillery or tank support seemed certain suicide and counter to their training. Turning to the man next to him, Lockyer said, “This is like 1914. Is he serious?” Griffin showed just how serious he was by racking a bayonet onto the end of a Lee Enfield and yelling, “Charge!” Without a moment’s hesitation, the men in the two groups all dashed forward to do their duty.17
Sprinting across the orchard, Griffin’s men caught the grenadiers by surprise and overran a line of about six machine guns that had been unmanned. But as they closed on the farm the German defence hardened, despite the fact that the parachute battalion’s three-inch mortars were thumping the farmhouse and enclosed courtyard with a fierce barrage. Unable to push forward in the face of the stiffening fire, Griffin’s force spread through the orchard and began shooting it out with the defenders.
Meanwhile, Toseland’s little band of twenty-five men had jogged along the road until they had passed by the farm and turned to move in from the flank in a full-tilt charge towards a facing hedgerow. The Germans here were alert, manning several machine guns dug into the reverse side of the hedge. As the guns opened up, Lockyer saw Sergeant C.E. Huard die. Then Corporal O.M. Bastien and Private W.W. Shawluk fell. Seconds later, just ten yards from the hedgerow, a slug pierced Lockyer’s right lung and knocked him down hard. Tose-land urged the others on, with Private T. Davies inspiring the survivors as he met the German fire with a Bren gun fired from the hip while on the run. But Davies soon fell wounded, along with Private H.W. Hughes. Four other men were killed before the charge reached the hedgerow. Toseland and the men still on their feet cleared the position in bitter hand-to-hand fighting. Then they pressed through to come up on Griffin’s flank and provide covering fire from behind another hedgerow.
Griffin’s mauled force managed to finally seize the farmhouse after a close-quarters fight and set out to secure several outbuildings farther to the south. But as they closed on the new position, they came under intense fire from a large force of grenadiers dug into the buildings, and spotted a number of armoured vehicles parked close by. Realizing he lacked the numbers to prevail, Griffin fell back on the farmhouse. Recovering from their initial surprise, grenadiers and supporting armour moved towards the farm from the outbuildings, while heavy mortars pounded the old stone building. To try holding the farm would mean death, so Griffin ordered a withdrawal to ‘B’ Company’s original lines.
The paratroops had to fight their way back by moving in bounds, with one section covering another while it retreated a short distance and then protected the backs of the first section. Several men were wounded or killed along the way. Some of the wounded, including Private Davies, suffered a second injury but still remained in the fight. Griffin’s men probably would have been butchered during this phase if not for the covering fire from the remnants of Toseland’s little group. Privates Russell Geddes and W. Noval, respectively using a Bren gun and sniper’s rifle, proved particularly deadly—credited jointly with killing about fifty Germans during the withdrawal. Both men were awarded the Military Medal, as were sergeants Joe LaCasse and Harvey Morgan. Sergeant George Capraru earned a Mentioned in Despatches citation. For his part in the assault, Griffin received a Military Cross.
When Griffin’s force was clear, Toseland and his badly cut-up group began a fighting withdrawal of their own. There was no time to check the ground for immobilized wounded before the men fell back with guns blazing. Several paratroopers were left in no man’s land. Barely conscious, Private Lockyer was vaguely aware of his comrades leapfrogging past him as they headed for the rear. They were all gone by the time he heard another of the wounded yell, “Help! Help! Somebody help me!” Lockyer could see the fellow and a couple of others sprawled nearby who showed faint signs of life.
Eventually, two Germans approached through the orchard. The dirty uniform and baggy pants worn by one indicated he was a common grenadier, but the other man was spiffed out in a pristinely clean and pressed officer’s uniform. As he approached the wounded soldier who had cried out for help, the officer calmly drew a Luger and shot the man in the head. Then he strolled over to another of the wounded and shot him. Lockyer frantically stuck a hand inside his camouflaged paratrooper’s smock, soaked it in the blood oozing out of the bullet hole in his chest, and smeared his face liberally. Taking a deep breath, he lay absolutely still as the two Germans walked over. One kicked him with terrific force in the stomach, but the private stifled a groan and kept his body loose so that he flopped lifelessly. Twice more a boot slammed into him, eliciting the same response, before the two men walked towards another paratrooper who was pleading for help. Lockyer heard the man moan, “Help,” and then sob, “Oh no!” A pistol cracked and then the Germans walked away.
Passing out, Lockyer awoke again only after dark. Finding a morphine syringe, he injected himself and felt a little stronger after that. Eventually, he started crawling towards the Canadian lines. It took a long time, but at last he recognized the roadside hedgerow where the paratroops were dug in. From the darkness, someone hissed, “What’s the password?”
“Christ, I dunno. I’ve been lying out all day,” Lockyer groaned. A couple of paratroopers scurried out and dragged the wounded man into the lines. Three days later, he was evacuated to hospital in England.18
WHILE GRIFFIN’S FORCE fought its battle, the paratroopers at le Mesnil brickworks had received a welcome surprise when Lieutenant John Madden and four other paratroopers from ‘C’ Company stick marched wearily into the perimeter. On D-Day, the twenty-year-old lieutenant’s stick had been one of the most poorly dropped in the battalion, landing on the west side of the River Orne about 1,200 yards from Sword Beach. Determined to rejoin the battalion, Madden had led a handful of his men across country, including a hazardous dash over Pegasus Bridge while the battle for control of it still raged, and finally made it home four days later. Along the way, the Canadians had occasionally supported British units they passed in quelling German resistance, or been forced to crawl past enemy positions in still-contested parts of the battlefield. Despite the fact that the various parachute battalions and brigades had become badly intermixed after the D-Day drop, Madden never considered joining one of the units he encountered along the way. Training had instilled in him that para-troops stuck to their objective and the Canadian final objective was to rally on le Mesnil, so that is what he determined to do.19
Madden reported to ‘C’ Company’s headquarters in a two-storey house.
The lower floor served as the farm stable, while the family lived above it in crude quarters. The lieutenant was shocked to learn that Major Murray MacLeod and Lieutenant H.M. “Chuck” Walker were dead. Major John Hanson was in command, and as Madden was senior to the other surviving ‘C’ Company officer, Lieutenant Sam McGowan, he became the company’s second-in-command. Hanson confided that he was happy to see Madden, because they had written him off for dead. Then Hanson told him to get out on the line and see to the men, who numbered just sixty-eight. Despite the fact that he was exhausted, Madden recognized that the paratroopers holding the line at le Mesnil were practically zombies after four days of almost constant action. Faces were gaunt, expressions flat, and filth and dried blood grimed their tattered uniforms and bodies. Almost every man had a ragged bandage covering one wound or another. But when he spoke with each in turn, he heard a quiet, understated confidence in their voices. Madden figured these men could take on just about anything the Germans threw at them and win. He surely hoped that was the case, for even as Griffin led his mauled band of troops into the battalion’s lines, it was obvious the battle for the crossroads was far from over.20
Despite being unable to hold onto the farmhouse, Griffin’s charge proved a success because the Germans chose not to reoccupy it, confining themselves instead to sniping at the Canadian lines from the orchard. No tally of the losses suffered by Griffin’s frontal assault group were compiled, but Toseland’s smaller band suffered terribly. Of the twenty-five who went into the attack, eight were killed and thirteen wounded. Toseland amazingly escaped without a scratch, despite the fact that several bullets pierced his clothing during the charge on the hedgerow.21
