by Mark Zuehlke
Before the column started moving again, a truck suddenly roared around a corner and almost collided with the lead tank. Out jumped two German privates with hands held high. Seemingly embarrassed, one of them confessed to misreading the map. The Hasty Ps standing around the two men sympathized. They were finding the maps inaccurate and confusing, while the countryside itself was such a patchwork of interconnecting valleys cutting through networks of rugged hills and ridges that keeping a sense of direction was increasingly difficult. In the distance there always seemed to be another dun-coloured hilltop town or village that looked much like the others, and each could as easily be the objective as not. The Canadians dumped the ammunition that the German truck had aboard, turned the truck around, and added it to the column’s transport.33
Once they were moving again, Tweedsmuir noticed something on a hillside reflecting sunlight. Soon he made out the shape of a wrecked airplane bearing American markings. “The atmosphere grew more and more electric with every mile we went,” everyone expecting something to happen. But it was hard not to wonder if they were in for nothing more than a pleasant drive in the country and the peaceful occupation of yet another town. They had been warned the Germans were ahead, but the Hasty Ps knew nothing of fighting them. They knew Italians, who either surrendered or ran away.
“Suddenly,” Tweedsmuir later wrote, “the narrow valley gave way to a broad open plateau with the town of Grammichele perched like all Sicilian towns on a hill top. The road ran, a straight white ribbon, slightly raised above the cornfields to the foot of the hill three miles farther on, and we could see our carriers far ahead approaching the town.”34
Grammichele had a population of about thirteen thousand. Rebuilt after being destroyed by an earthquake in 1693, the town had a curious spider-web layout that gave it a hexagonal shape with six roads radiating outward from its central plaza. It stood on a ridge about 250 feet above the valley floor, with its outskirts descending down the eastern slope. Nothing could approach unseen across the open plain. As the carriers and scout car disappeared into its outskirts with three tanks carrying part of ‘B’ Company following close behind, the rest of the column was still two miles back.35 Tweedsmuir had lost sight of the carriers and tanks at about the time the main column came to a road crossing with a great crater blown in the middle of it. While the tanks might work around it, wheeled vehicles could not. Tweedsmuir had just got the men out of their trucks and busy filling in the hole when “the shooting started.” Machine guns and small artillery pieces opened fire from some high ground left of the battalion’s position. “We got under cover and shifted as many of the trucks as we could off the road. Mortars opened up, accurately ranged on the road, and those trucks that couldn’t be shifted were soon burning, popping and banging as ammunition exploded.”36
In the outskirts of Grammichele, the lead formation had driven into the middle of an ambush launched by the 4th Hermann Göring Flak Regiment and attached infantry. Several 20-millimetre Flakvierling—self-propelled four-barrelled guns (SPGs) that could be used against either aircraft or tanks—slashed into sthe carriers and tanks. The scout car was hit, and Major van Straubenzee took a bullet in the shoulder. Aboard one of the carriers, Lieutenant Ryckman used its 50-calibre Browning machine gun to spray tracer rounds at the various German guns or to mark their position for the tankers. In short order, however, all three carriers were burning. The Shermans jockeyed for position, returning the German fire with 75-millimetre high-explosive rounds.37 When a chance hit from one of the flak guns penetrated the tank commanded by Lieutenant P.E. Sheppard, it exploded. Twenty-year-old Ellis James Lloyd, the tank’s loader-operator, died. The rest of the crew suffered burns and other injuries while bailing out.38
As the rest of ‘B’ Company fought its way into the streets around the beleaguered advance guard, Hasty Ps’ Corporal Ernie Madden arrived aboard a carrier just in time to spot the crew of an 88-millimetre gun in the process of reloading. Madden floored the carrier and rushed the gun head-on. The carrier crashed into the gun’s square protective shield, sending the gunners flying. Several were crushed under the carrier’s tracks.39
A crazy, wild fight had developed that was less controlled by officers than by men just going for the enemy. The Hasty Ps had trained for fighting through ambushes such as this, so the companies reacted instinctively. ‘B’ Company had gone straight into the face of the main German fire. Caught in the open at the base of the hill, ‘A’ Company slipped left of the road into whatever cover it could find and started throwing fire out in aid of ‘B’ Company, while ‘A’ Squadron weighed in with a barrage of 75-millimetre rounds.
This spontaneous action gave Lieutenant Colonel Bruce Sutcliffe the precious minutes needed to cobble together a hurried plan of attack. Telling ‘A’ Company to continue providing fire support, he directed ‘C’ and ‘D’ companies with a battery of self-propelled guns (SPGs) from the Royal Devon Yeomanry to “make a wide left sweep into the town.” Brigadier Graham was present and approved Sutcliffe’s plan, but just as the battalion commander readied to issue the necessary orders, Simonds showed up again. “I want this battle stopped,” he declared after Sutcliffe explained his intentions. “I don’t like the plan.” Regimental Sergeant Major Angus Duffy, hovering close by, slipped away in embarrassment at hearing two senior officers he respected being so bluntly reprimanded .40 Graham and Sutcliffe stood their ground and Simonds backed off, but it was plain the bad blood between him and the brigadier was worsening. Sutcliffe had his men quickly on the move, supported also by several Shermans, which “succeeded in scoring direct hits on one enemy tank and on the flak position which had been shelling the road.”41
Tweedsmuir had set up a headquarters section in the ditch by the road next to ‘A’ Company. With him was a forward observation officer, who seemed to be terrifically slow getting any shelling of the town under way. Whenever Tweedsmuir popped his head out of the ditch, Germans started sniping at him.42
By 1130 hours, the tanks, SPGs of the Devons, and artillery fire finally called in by the FOO were starting to tell on the German positions, many of their guns having been knocked out. But ‘A’ Company had started taking “extremely heavy, observed mortar fire from the right and front.” There was also one of the deadly rapid-fire 20-millimetre guns ripping off bursts from somewhere on the left and three machine guns tearing away from both its flank and front. Realizing somebody needed to do something about the mortars, Private I.J. Gunter—who was part of the battalion’s intelligence section—ventured out and located their positions. Returning to one of the tanks, he directed its fire against the mortars and soon silenced them. Meanwhile, Private H.E. Brant attacked one of the strongest German positions single-handedly. Firing his Bren gun from the hip, Brant advanced on about thirty enemy troops. Those who were not killed surrendered. Both Gunter and Brant were awarded Military Medals for their actions.43
As soon as ‘B’ Company reorganized around the burning carriers and tank to begin pushing deeper into the town, the Germans started withdrawing out the opposite side. By 1200 hours the fight was over, and the Hasty Ps left to take an accounting of their situation. For having walked straight into the maw of an ambush, the infantry had got off surprisingly lightly. Of the total twenty-five casualties, fifteen were Hasty Ps and none of these were killed.44 The Three Rivers Tank Regiment suffered the other ten casualties, with Lloyd being the only fatality.
Tweedsmuir walked over to where the “wounded lay in the shadow of a wall, propped up and bandaged with the flies buzzing round them, stoically smoking.” Considering the incredible volume of fire the flak battalion had thrown at them, he recognized they had been lucky.45 How many Germans had been killed or wounded was never tallied, but the Hasty Ps counted two of the flak guns, two Panzer Mark IVs, and two Panzer Mark IIIs knocked out. There were also a number of German trucks and a great deal of supplies that had been abandoned.46 Included in the captured booty were cases of tinned fruit. Tweedsmuir made sure that the wounde
d were given all the fruit they desired.47 Orders came from Brigadier Graham for the Hasty Ps to bivouac around Grammichele, while the 48th Highlanders passed through to continue the advance towards the town of Caltagirone—about eight miles farther west on Highway 124.
The Hasty Ps were well pleased with how they had performed. After the fact, so was Simonds. He went around the companies congratulating the battalion on “extricating itself from a dangerous trap and then driving the enemy from his superior position.”48 The fight for Grammichele was the first time the Canadian division had met German troops. While they had walked into the ambush, they could console themselves with the rapidity of their recovery. And speed was certainly of the essence. That evening Simonds received a signal from Montgomery advising that as XIII Corps was “held temporarily on the right, it is now all the more important to swing hard with our left; so push on with all speed to Caltagirone, and then to Valguarnera-Enna-Leonforte. Drive the Canadians hard.”49
[11]
Hazards and Hardships
WHILE IST CANADIAN Infantry Brigade had been winning Grammichele, 2nd Canadian Infantry Brigade had marched from near Ragusa through rough country to gain Highway 124. Only the Loyal Edmonton Regiment, mounted on the tanks of the Three Rivers Regiment’s ‘C’ Squadron, and the brigade headquarters had transport. Left far behind this leading column, which also included 3rd Canadian Field Regiment, the Seaforth Highlanders and Princess Patricia’s Canadian Light Infantry were forced to make the passage of thirty miles on foot. This distance came as a rude shock to the brigade, for an inaccurate road trace on their maps had showed it as being only about seventeen miles. Exemplifying the worst of Sicilian construction practices, the unpaved and narrow track snaked treacherously up and down steep hills and through narrow valleys. Switchbacks were so tight the Shermans had to back and fill to execute turns. At one point, the head of the armoured column was directly across from its tail with the middle out of sight behind an intervening hill. Because of the ubiquitous dust boiling up around each Sherman, the tank commanders at the front and back mistook each other for German armour. Several 75-millimetre rounds were exchanged before the error was discovered.1
“An infernal Devil’s stairway,” the Seaforth’s war diarist declared the road. Each hill climbed only revealed another higher one beyond. With nightfall, word was passed that the march must continue. The brigade was not to pause until it reached Grammichele.2
In his Sherman, named “Commodore,” Lieutenant Jack Wallace realized the column was not only plagued by inaccurate maps but had actually driven completely off the one provided. The squadron commander, Major F.L. “Fern” Caron, passed instructions that the tanker at the front was to guide the column forward by means of the North Star. “I never saw so many mountain roads in all my life,” Wallace complained later. At midnight, his driver, Trooper Ace Elliot, “became violently sick” because of the twisting road. The bow-gunner, Trooper Vic Harvey, took over the controls. “He gave me some awful moments as he tried to negotiate some of those turns in one swoop. Once he had to jam on the brakes or else we would have been hurled over the cliff... He never tried that kind of stuff again after the blast he got from me over the intercom,” Wallace recalled. At about 0300 hours, the mechanized column passed through Chiaramonte Gulfi. Dawn of July 16 found it approaching the little village of Licodia—a short distance south of Highway 124—where the brigade halted. For the last mile of the journey, Wallace’s tank had to be towed by another because it had run out of fuel. The other Shermans had almost dry tanks.3
Licodia was teeming with Americans from the U.S. 45th Infantry Division’s 157th Regiment. Lieutenant Colonel Charles Anckorn told Brigadier Chris Vokes his troops “had been ordered back from Grammichele in order to conform with the move of the Canadian Division.”4 While Anckorn and Vokes discussed impending moves, their soldiers set to trading. Lieutenant Wallace cadged twenty gallons of fuel from an artillery officer after learning that the fuel trucks would not arrive for hours. The men in his troop, meanwhile, “practically traded all their food for American food. The yanks were glad to see our stew and tea whereas our lads were glad to see some coffee and beans.”5
Although the tankers, Loyal Edmonton Regiment, and other units in the mechanized column were able to spend a leisurely morning resting in Licodia, the brigade’s other two battalions were still marching. Finally, at about noon, some trucks from the Royal Canadian Armoured Service Corps established a shuttle service to carry the Seaforths and PPCLI forward in lifts.6 This transport was provided only on a temporary basis. Despite orders from divisional headquarters that 2 CIB was to take over the advance from 1 CIB, which had closed on Caltagirone late on July 15, it remained desperately short of vehicles. As the Eddies had enjoyed some time to rest, this battalion was again mounted on ‘C’ Squadron’s tanks and sent forward with the 3rd Field Regiment and brigade headquarters in trail. The Seaforths and PPCLI would follow by foot. From Caltagirone, the brigade was to head directly for Enna.7
During its counterattacks on the American beaches, the Hermann Göring Division had used Caltagirone—another town with a population of about thirty thousand—as a headquarters. When the 48th Highlanders started moving towards the town on the evening of July 15, expectations were that the ten-mile journey from Grammichele would be carried out quickly because the battalion was riding on carriers provided by the Saskatoon Light Infantry—the division’s support battalion—and Shermans of the Three Rivers Regiment’s ‘B’ Squadron. After a mile and a half, however, the lead vehicle carrying Lieutenant Edward MacLachlan “came across a burned-out enemy vehicle which it by-passed, thereby touching the soft shoulder at the side of the road, passed over an enemy mine and blew up.”8 MacLachlan and the carrier’s SLI driver were killed, and 48th Highlander wireless signaller Private Douglas May was badly wounded. MacLachlan was the battalion’s first fatality.9 Engineers then came forward and “started the laborious process of clearing the whole road to Caltagirone of mines.”10
The Highlanders fell out on the side of the road, expecting a long wait. But when Lieutenant Colonel Ian Johnston reported the situation, Brigadier Howard Graham came forward. Leave the vehicles, he said, and advance alongside the road on foot. “I’ll buy you the best bottle of Málaga in Sicily if you take Caltagirone before daylight,” he told Johnston.11
Once the battalion had departed, Graham had his Jeep parked behind a hedge of cactus. Firing up his Sterno stove, the brigadier treated himself to a wash and shave while ruminating over what to do about Simonds. The clash could not go unaddressed. At every turn, Simonds was “cold and critical.” Every gesture or word from the major general seemed intended to drive home the message that Graham did not measure up. Sitting in the shade of the cactus, the brigadier “decided that this morning’s tongue-lashing was the last straw.” He was fed up with Simonds, who was six years younger and had less experience commanding troops. Clearly, Simonds was waiting for an excuse to fire Graham, so why let him choose the moment?
Graham drove to the divisional ‘O’ Group, which was held in a field outside Grammichele. After Simonds issued his orders for the following day, Graham called him aside. “This morning you scolded me and bawled me out and humiliated me in the presence of my driver and signaller. I feel the time has come for us to part company, and therefore I request release from my command at once.” The RCR’s Lieutenant Colonel Ralph Crowe, Graham said, was competent to take over the brigade.
“You’ll get a bad report for this,” was Simonds’s only response.
Returning to his brigade headquarters truck, Graham typed up a short note confirming his request to be relieved of command and recommending Crowe for it. This was the hardest decision of Graham’s life. He cared about the brigade and felt his handling had been competent. It seemed a particular shame that he should suffer such a personal and career setback on this day, which was his forty-fifth birthday.
Graham was packing his kit when a signal from Lieutenant General Oliver Leese i
nstructed him to report immediately to xxx Corps headquarters. Telling his brigade major that Simonds would soon send someone to take over the brigade, Graham started the long journey to the rear.12
At about 0200 hours on July 16, Crowe took over “temporary command of the brigade.” In his absence, Major Billy Pope assumed command of the RCR. This battalion was already on the march, advancing with two companies well out on either side of Highway 124 to protect the flanks of the 48th Highlanders.13
When Graham reported to Leese, the xxx Corps commander told him to bed down somewhere and that General Montgomery was coming to see him. The Eighth Army commander showed up first thing in the morning. “Now, what is this trouble between you and Guy Simonds?”
Graham briefly explained. Montgomery interrupted once to ask if he had ever refused to obey an order. Never, Graham responded. Montgomery told him he was to go back and resume commanding his brigade. When Graham said that would be difficult because of the words passed between himself and Simonds, Montgomery said not to worry. The army commander then had a private conversation with Leese, who soon informed Graham that he would accompany the brigadier back to 1st Canadian Infantry Division’s headquarters.
