On 12 October Frenchie found a pub near Mook where he established Regimental Headquarters.
The wife of the innkeeper was a one-time opera singer and one evening offered to entertain Regimental Headquarters officers with some singing. Not wishing to be discourteous I accepted the invitation and ordered all the very reluctant officers who were not on duty to assemble in their private sitting room after dinner. Her rendering was fascinating and formidable and the small room, filled with smoke, echoed with the notes of various operas, in spite of which I saw the Baron, who was sitting next to me, gradually lower his head onto his chest and soon her singing was accompanied by gentle wheezing emanating from the sleeping Baron’s open mouth. Halfway through the performance the accompanist suddenly struck up with great vehemence a tune that resembled very closely the Dutch National Anthem; the chords must have penetrated into the baron’s sleeping brain, for all of a sudden he leaped to his feet with great alacrity and stood smartly to attention, much to the amazement of all present. When he discovered that he was the only one standing he subsided back into his chair covered with confusion. I saw to it that he remained awake for the remainder of the performance, which lasted two and a half hours in all.
On another occasion I had my headquarters for two days in the house of the local village policeman and his wife, a most delightful and hospitable couple. They had two little boys, whom they confided they had adopted, being unable to have children. As apparently it is not possible to find children for adoption in Holland, they had brought these two kids from Croydon in England. They told me that nobody in the neighbourhood knew that they were not their own children and they had decided never to tell the boys themselves.
As a parting gift they gave me a tiny puppy, called a Pinscher, which I gather is a breed of dog peculiar to Holland. It was brown and smooth-haired and when full grown only reached 10 inches. I called the dog Beek, after the neighbouring village where the Regiment crossed into Germany for the first time and were the first British soldiers to do so.
I became most attached to this little dog and I think the affection was mutual because he never left me and was my constant companion, ever in my tank, remaining with me until I was demobilized. He was most intelligent and I trained him to sit and not move until I whistled. He was not popular with Regimental Headquarters officers, especially Frenchie, my adjutant, on account of his shrill and high-pitched bark, with which all were greeted on approaching me, and his occasional habit of snapping if he considered anybody should not be well disposed towards me.
I so well remember on one occasion, later on during the campaign in Germany, when I suddenly discovered, much to my consternation, that Beek was missing and I had the alarming thought that he had been left behind at the place where we had spent the night and which we had left very suddenly. I immediately instigated a search, during which I heard Frenchie say to the IO, ‘With any luck the colonel told that blasted dog to sit and forgot to whistle.’ I suppose that there might have been certain justification for their dislike.
During the middle of the month Brigade called for applications for NCOs with battle experience for instructors in England, to be drawn from those who had been continuously in action. I sent in the names of SSM Biddle, Sergeants Charity and Evans and Corporal Lacey, and at the same time Bill Wharton and Corporal Newton proceeded on a wireless course in England, much to their delight. Peter Seleri returned to the Regiment, having recovered from his wound, and took command of B Squadron.
During the month a ‘Mechanical and Gunnery Circus’ consisting of experts, visited the Regiment in order to give advice on any D&M or gunnery problems that we might have discovered. The gunnery side of it proved most useful.
On the last day of the month news came through that Michael Gold, Jack Holman and Stuart Hills had all been awarded the MC, about which we were all thoroughly delighted.
On several occasions the squadrons of the Regiment had to relieve the 13/18th to support the Americans on what was known as the ‘island’, a piece of land situated on the river, and connected by bridge with the Nijmegen side. One day I visited B Squadron and found the reserve troop cooking a black rabbit, which they had caught for the pot, and which abounded on the island. As I was leaving I heard a GI say to his comrade, ‘I guess that in some ways we may be uncivilized, but we don’t have to eat black cats, like those bloody Tommies.’
The brigadier arranged a dance for officers in Nijmegen in the town hall – fortunately undamaged – which proved a great success. The Dutch girls were thrilled and in spite of not having danced for four years they soon learned. It was really rather astonishing as the Germans were only four miles away on the other side of the river, and the periodic shelling was plainly audible. The brigadier tried to get 50 girls up from Brussels, but failed owing to security reasons. At the start of the dance I found myself talking to Peter Seleri, Neville Fearn and two young Dutch girls, one extremely attractive and the other equally plain. Neville, on my arrival, immediately took the floor with the beauty and left Peter and me with the other girl. Anticipating that Peter might beat a hasty retreat and that I should be left alone with rather a large, spotty-faced, but very charming Dutch girl, who spoke no English, I said to Peter: ‘I think you should dance with this charming girl.’
‘Sorry, Colonel, but I can’t dance,’ replied Peter.
‘I am afraid that I shall have to order you to take a lesson from our charming friend.’
‘I am sorry, sir, in that case I shall have to disobey an unlawful command,’ he replied.
‘If you dance with her, I will give you the next Jeep which is allocated to the Regiment,’ I offered, Jeeps being extremely short at that time.
‘Make it a Jeep and two first-class wireless operators for my squadron, and I will dance.’
‘All right,’ I agreed, ‘but it’s pure blackmail’, and away he went at great speed, and not too steady on his feet, to the tune of a very rapid Dutch quickstep, firmly grasping his large fair-haired Nijmegen partner.
During the evening Nervo and Knox, who were working for ENSA, gave us an excellent cabaret show.
I attended a good many conferences during this time on the Siegfried Line, and discussions on the ways and means of breaking through and dealing with the pill-boxes, concrete emplacements and outer defences of this very formidable line. This was to be the next operation working in conjunction with tank flame-throwers, who gave us a most impressive demonstration of their capabilities. It was first decided that we should attack through the Reichwald forest, but the plan was cancelled.
On 2 November I moved Regimental Headquarters to the small village of Winssen, at which time the brigadier was having a great drive on the training in the use of rifle, pistol and Bren gun for all B3 echelons, truck drivers and administrative personnel. He visited Headquarters Squadron and asked three men, who happened to be the orderly room corporal, the regimental sanitary corporal and the technical store clerk, when they had last fired a gun or pistol in practice or anger. None of them had done so since landing in Europe, much to the wrath of Brigadier Prior-Palmer, who gave Roger Nelthorpe a first-class rocket for not training all members of his squadron, regardless of their occupation. With a great deal of grumbling and moaning Roger immediately instigated an intensive training programme for all his drivers during their off-duty periods.
Some Americans from the 101st Division carried out a most creditable recce patrol onto the other side of the river, where 10 Americans crossed under cover of darkness. They were directed by their own artillery and found out some most useful information regarding the strength of the enemy on the other side of the river. Behind the German lines, they held up a captured American Jeep being driven by some Germans, which they recaptured with the occupants. Soon afterwards they met a lorry carrying 15 Germans, which they also captured and drove back towards the river, taking their disarmed captives with them. Just before reaching the river they dismounted their captives, formed them up in the road and ordered them to march
towards the river in a soldierly and smart manner. The Americans fell in at the rear of the column, marching equally smartly, but covered the rear German files with their rifles, having threatened to shoot the last German files should anyone attempt to escape. The German outpost platoon on the bank of the river mistook the column for a relief force, and forthwith were captured. The Americans made all the Germans swim back across the river, while they covered them with their rifles from the boat, and returned to their lines with 30 Germans. They had, however, to leave the Jeep and the lorry, which they most thoroughly immobilized. It really was a most remarkable effort.
About the same time the Germans carried out an almost equally spectacular feat, when seven ‘frogmen’ swam 10 miles down the river and destroyed the Nijmegen bridge by setting a time charge underneath one of the main structural supports.
On 8 November news came through that the attack on the Siegfried Line would take place further south, and at very short notice the Regiment was loaded onto tank transporters and we moved south to Sittard. I travelled with Frenchie Houghton, the adjutant, in a Jeep and we had an extremely cold journey. Two days later, I learned the corps commander, General Horrocks, had selected the Regiment to support the 84th US Infantry Division in attacking the Siegfried Line. He had made this choice because this division had not yet been into battle, and on account of our previous actions with the Americans. We both immediately proceeded to the American Divisional Headquarters at Gulpen for a conference, while the Regiment had congregated in the coal-mining town of Paulenberg, a most desolate place that had been devastated from shellfire and was swimming in mud from the recent rains and continual streams of tanks and army vehicles.
Except for two troops of A Squadron, which were attached to 333rd Regiment, we had to operate with 334th Regiment, commanded by Colonel Rossond, a pleasant individual, but completely incapable of making a plan or a decision. After the first conference, which lasted an hour, nothing had been decided. When I remarked on this he said, ‘I like the Boys to have their say, because the Boys have to do the job!’ I managed tactfully to persuade him that it would save much time if he and I could decide upon a plan, orders for which could be given out at the conference, after which he could ask for comments and not wait for his battalion commanders to make a plan for him! I decided to live at his headquarters and detailed each squadron leader to take up residence at the battalion headquarters with which they were to operate.
This operation consisted of an offensive push by the 2nd US Armoured Division in a north-eastern direction on our right, coordinated with a frontal attack northwards of the 84th US Division against the Siegfried Line defences. The 333rd Regiment was to capture Geilenkirchen on the left advancing along the main Palenburg–Geilenkirchen road, supported by two troops of A Squadron and the 334th Regiment on the left, fighting with B and C Squadrons and A Squadron less two troops, to make a frontal attack against the defences.
Much time and energy was devoted to planning and preparation. Not only had this American division never worked with tanks before, but it had not yet fought a battle and, in addition, in order to breach these Siegfried Line defences, we had to operate with crocodiles (tank flame-throwers), flails (a Sherman tank with a revolving spindle in front to which are attached heavy headed chains, which beat the ground as the spindle rotates before the advancing tank in order to set off the mines) and AVREs (an armoured vehicle carrying powerful charges for the demolition of concrete defences).
On the 17th, all the armour carried out a full dress rehearsal of the breaching part of the operation, which was greatly hindered by the continuous rain, which made the area a sea of mud resulting in most of the tanks becoming bogged. Colonel Delamore of the Lothian and Border Horse, which had been converted to flails, was to command the breaching forces; their first duty consisted of making two gaps for the tanks over the railway, an anti-tank obstacle, which was heavily mined, after which I took command of all the armour, which, with the attached troops, amounted to a dual regimental command.
At the final conference before the attack, our brigadier informed us that we should be fighting throughout the winter and that the possibility of home leave would be out of the question owing to the shortage of manpower and shipping difficulties, which was somewhat depressing before an operation that had every sign of being thoroughly unpleasant.
The pull on British manpower was immense. British men were not only fighting in the Far East, but also in Italy as well as north-west Europe and, in addition, manning numerous outposts throughout the Empire, stretching from Gibraltar through to the Pacific. In addition, manpower was used to build the vast numbers of aircraft and ships and other war matériel produced in Britain. On top of that, there was Home Defence and the formation of the Pacific Fleet in August. It was no wonder after five long years of war that manpower in north-west Europe was becoming short, but it was both extremely hard and demoralizing for those still slogging their way into Germany. Even the United States was forced to blood new divisions such as the 84th, who were, almost to a man, inexperienced and new to war. The best American units were, by this time, among the finest in the world, but the green divisions often faced a terrible baptism of fire as they came up against fanatical German troops determined to fight for every yard. For Stanley and the Sherwood Rangers, who had been fighting almost continually since D-Day, nursing these rookie troops was no easy task, and especially when there was no common doctrine between British and American troops.
There had been a time when it had seemed likely the war would be over by Christmas, but while the end was now within touching distance, both Nazi Germany and Imperial Japan seemed determined to fight on.
From 18 until 24 November the Regiment fought a continual slogging battle against the carefully prepared and well-thought-out concrete defence positions, which, except for D-Day, was a new experience for us. These defences consisted of numerous concrete pill-boxes surrounded by wire and mines. The walls were so thick that not even the tank 17-pounder gun could penetrate.
During the night preceding the attack we had very little sleep. Artillery concentration started at 03.30 on the morning of the 18th, and at 05.00 suddenly the whole area was lit by ‘artificial moonlight’, produced by a battery of searchlights situated behind our lines, which proved most effective, and the attack commenced.
One gap through the minefields and over the railway was not completed in time, so both A Squadron less two troops and B Squadron, which was supporting the leading battalions, used the same gap. B Squadron’s objective was the high ground north-east of Gelsenkirchen, and A Squadron’s the village of Prummern. By midday these two squadrons had knocked out, or caused to surrender, six pillboxes and had captured 350 POWs, and the Regiment can claim to have been the first British troops to have broken through the Siegfried Line.
By the end of the day both squadrons with the American battalions had taken their objectives, but B Squadron lost Lieutenant Crosbie who was killed when his tank was knocked out by an antitank gun. John Semken, A Squadron commander, drove his tank over a cluster of four mines, which exploded simultaneously. The tank was completely written off; fortunately the crew suffered no injury, but were all rather shaken up. John Scudamore was shot in the leg when his tank was hit by an anti-tank gun, and Sergeant Dring of A Squadron received a nasty wound in the hand when he was doing a recce on foot. He came across a Panther, which he thought had been knocked out, but when he approached the tank it was very much alive and engaged him with high explosive. He was fortunate as a shell landed right beside him.
Without any doubt he was one of the Regiment’s most experienced tank commanders and troop leaders. He appeared to be gifted with a sixth sense and always spotted an enemy tank long before anybody else, or before he was seen. He was an expert gunner; deadly accurate and quick with his tank 75mm. He and his gunner knocked out more German tanks than any other member of the Regiment. I recall so vividly a conversation that came over the air between him and another A Squadron tank co
mmander, somewhere in Normandy.
‘Nutts 1. (Sergeant Dring talking.) Enemy tank concealed 800 yards to left front, stop where you are.’
‘Nutts 1. Never seen a turret with horns, am engaging the cow.’
A German Mark 4 tank was forthwith brewed up by an anti-tank shell from Sergeant Dring.
His wound gave him subsequent trouble, which prevented him returning to the Regiment. However, for his sake I was extremely pleased, for he had fought among the leading tanks of the Regiment from El Alamein to the Siegfried Line, and he was one of the very few NCO tank commanders of a sabre squadron who had survived so much action.
On the 19th, B Squadron, supporting the same battalion, was ordered to capture the high ground south of the village of Wurm, an advance of 1500 yards. This proved most difficult owing to the open ground and the very cleverly concealed pill-boxes. The squadron commander, Peter Seleri, had his tank destroyed and was wounded for the second time. C Squadron spent the day clearing the north end of Prummern and the orchards to the east and knocked out three German tanks. Second Lieutenant Holmes of that squadron was instantly killed when a high-explosive shell landed on his tank. Among the other casualties Corporal Whitfield, an A Squadron fitter, and Corporal Hewitt of B Echelon were killed and Mechanist Quarter Master Sergeant Scott and Sergeant Collis wounded, Sergeant Collis for the third time. Technical Adjutant Bridgford and Mechanist Quarter Master Sergeant Scott carried out most sterling work in attending to various damaged tanks, because even after the battle had gone forward the shelling still continued and they had to work under most difficult conditions.
A Squadron had a comparatively quiet day, except for 1 Troop under David Alderson, which continued to support the 333rd Regiment in capturing Gelsenkirchen and won the sincere praise of the Americans for the support they gave them.
November 20 proved a continuation of the previous day’s operation. Progress was painfully slow, as the pill-boxes had to be eliminated one by one and each one was supported by fire from another. A Squadron, still fighting with 333rd Regiment, cleared the high ground north-west of Gelsenkirchen, but owing to the enclosed country, it had to stick to one road, which made progress extremely difficult.
An Englishman at War Page 45
