by Mark Zuehlke
Little intelligence had been garnered by the PLDG patrols, particularly the one towards Nissoria. The fighting at Leonforte and Assoro had revealed a change in German tactics that concerned intelligence officers. “Hitherto the German rearguard has pulled stakes cleanly and retired some 8 or 10 miles to a new position,” they pointed out in a written summary. “The fact that they are not voluntarily retiring from their latest strongpoint but are fighting for every yard of ground indicates that we are nearing something like a serious defence zone. Beyond doubt they would have held Leonforte had they not been driven out of it.”2
What did this mean for Agira? Perched on its mountain cone 2,700 feet above sea level, the ancient dun-coloured town dominated both the Dittaino and Salso valleys and the high plateau—along which Highway 121 ran—that separated the two rivers. This intervening ground was hardly what most Canadians would consider a plateau. It was rugged, undulating, “treed, and covered with orchards, vineyards, and olive groves.”3 Such country provided a multitude of potential fighting positions, but the intelligence officers considered it unlikely the Germans would put up more than token resistance in front of Agira. Surely the Germans would recognize that the Canadians could bring “overwhelming artillery and aerial support” to bear. Observers positioned next to the Norman castle on the summit of Assoro, which the Canadians now called “Castle Hill,” would be able to direct the artillery onto any pockets of German resistance with deadly effect. Also, they believed the Germans were too few in number to do anything but make a stand inside Agira itself.4
Generally, the mood at divisional headquarters was optimistic. A good, solid artillery and aerial bombardment plan would be put together. The Royal Canadian Regiment, followed by the rest of 1st Canadian Infantry Brigade, would march behind this covering fire across the six or so miles of plateau, climb the mountain to gain Agira, and clear out what should be thoroughly dazed, battered, and demoralized Germans. The whole business would be concluded by nightfall on July 24.
General Bernard Montgomery had visited Major General Guy Simonds on July 22 and guaranteed the Canadians priority call on Eighth Army’s artillery. Because the shells were still being brought across the beaches, there were some shortages. To ensure that the Canadians were untouched by this, the rest of the army faced a daily restriction of thirty rounds per gun.5
At about 1800 hours on July 23, divisional artillery commander Brigadier Bruce Matthews and Simonds sat down with their staffs and spent the evening setting out the support plan in minute detail.6 There would be a “timed program of artillery concentrations on successive targets along the route; a creeping smoke barrage 1,000 yards ahead of the forward troops would conceal them by a screen 2,000 yards long; and in front of this curtain Kittyhawk fighter bombers of the Desert Air Force would bomb and strafe targets along the road while six squadrons of medium bombers attacked Agira and its immediate vicinity.”7
As the plan developed, the division’s general staff officer, Lieutenant Colonel George Kitching, felt a growing sense of unease. Simonds “appeared to be wedded to the barrage type of support of The Great War vintage.” Known as a “creeping barrage,” the guns dropped shells a specified distance ahead of the advancing soldiers, shifting their fire forward to each successive point of concentration according to a precise schedule timed to match the pace of the infantry. It was “designed to pulverize the enemy in their defensive positions just before our infantry reached them,” Kitching wrote. But there was one flaw with this strategy that he had observed during the past two weeks. The 25-pounder, which was the backbone of the divisional artillery, “did not fire a shell that was effective against strong defences or deep trenches, although it was a very potent killer when engaging enemy in the open.” The Germans were countering the creeping barrage by taking shelter when the artillery began firing and emerging quickly after the guns passed by to engage the infantry, just as they were about twenty-five or fifty yards from the position.
Having been in Simonds’s service long enough to take the general’s measure, Kitching knew better than to express his concerns. Once Simonds made his mind up, there was little likelihood of getting him to reconsider. And this plan seemed quintessential Simonds in action. A trained gunner, Simonds “believed artillery was essential to the success of any battle.” Several times during the campaign, he had delayed an attack to deploy the artillery and bring it to bear in support—even when the infantry brigade and battalion commanders had wanted to strike without a bombardment in order to capitalize on surprise and speed. Trained as an infantryman, Kitching had generally thought the brigade and battalion commanders correct, while artilleryman Simonds let the allure of guns “unduly influence some of his tactical decisions.”8
Besides being convinced that he might more easily move a mountain than talk Simonds out of the artillery plan, Kitching held his tongue for another reason. His would be the lone voice of dissent. The permeating sentiment that night, Kitching noted, was “that nothing could stop troops that were going to be supported by 5 field regiments and 2 medium regiments. Over 150 guns in support of one battalion!”9 In addition to the division’s inherent three field artillery regiments, the Royal Devon Yeomanry would once again be in support, as would another British field regiment, the 165th. The British 7th Medium and 64th Medium regiments would also be firing.10
As was his custom, Simonds went to bed at 2300 hours and was not to be awakened until 0600 unless there was a dire emergency. During the night, Kitching maintained divisional command.11 By 0630 hours, the general was always ready for a briefing prior to breakfast on anything of import that had occurred in the night. After breakfast, Simonds would either hold a conference with his brigade commanders or personally visit their brigade headquarters and perhaps also drop in on some of the battalion commanders.12
THE MORNING OF July 24, Simonds convened a conference and the plan was explained in detail to the brigadiers. Brigadier Howard Graham was appalled.13 The RCR was expected to cover about one hundred yards every two minutes to keep pace with the lifts of artillery providing the creeping barrage. There would be nearly a two-thousand-yard-wide smokescreen created by lifting the guns firing the smoke a thousand yards every twenty minutes. Together, “guns and aircraft [would] carpet an area about eight miles long and three miles wide with fire, behind which the RCR from the west . . . would march in to occupy Agira.”14
“My God! The man must be crazy,” Graham thought. The brigadier was all for artillery support. He loved to see forward observation officers with the battalions, ready to call guns down on identified targets. That was eminently useful to infantry. But to “shoot around the country in the hope of hitting something, and to time this shooting on the assumption that the people you want to support will be within one hundred yards of the shells when they hit the ground, is nonsense.” The elaborate smokescreen struck Graham as more dangerous to his men than useful. It was entirely likely that a strong wind or change in wind direction would blow it away or even send it drifting into the German positions, so that they were covered while his men were left exposed.15
Graham knew he was skating on thin ice with Simonds already so never considered objecting. Besides, the plan was too far advanced. Already, ground crews on airfields around Pachino and in North Africa would be fuelling and loading ordnance into hundreds of bombers and fighter bombers while the flight crews were briefed on targets. Closer by, the gunners would be stacking shells next to the guns, as their commanders worked out firing angles and ranges to deliver the rounds precisely where they were required.
Returning to his brigade headquarters, Graham summoned the battalion commanders and explained the plan. Lieutenant Colonel Ralph Crowe assembled the RCR’s company commanders on a treed ridge from which they were able to see Agira. Crowe said he was pleased the battalion “had been selected to put on this ambitious attack.” His dispositions were that ‘C’ and ‘D’ companies would advance astride the highway with the former on the right, the latter the left. Crowe set o
ut several specific positions where the leading companies would halt and then be leapfrogged by the two following behind. In this manner, ‘A’ and ‘B’ companies would be out front when Nissoria was reached. They would clear the village and then move up to the top of the high ground east of it, whereupon the original two leading companies would pass again to the fore. Just before Agira, ‘A’ and ‘B’ companies would again leapfrog into the lead and seize the town.16
Hearing all these tidily set-out details, ‘C’ Company’s Captain Ian Hodson noted how “little flexibility there was in the plan, and no options for company commanders.” Crowe emphasized that the report lines were sacrosanct and not to be crossed early because that would put the infantry in the way of their own shells. Checking his watch, Crowe told the officers they were to immediately get off the ridge because very shortly the artillery plan called for it to be the first targeted area. Hodson and the other company commanders exchanged puzzled expressions. “Why was it necessary to fire on ground we held, why waste ammunition?” Hodson wondered.17
The RCR’s war diarist pondered the same question. “The feature is so important to gain that the [battalion] . . . will be supported by the complete [divisional artillery], plus ninety bombers, plus more than a hundred fighter-bombers in close support. It is a set piece attack, with a timed [artillery] program, report lines, bells, train whistles and all the trimmings.” He worried about the fact that the 48th Highlanders, in securing the highway junction, had “been fairly vague as to the enemy dispositions, but it is felt that the support will be so overwhelming that resistance before Agira will be slight.”18
‘B’ Company’s Captain Strome Galloway recalled the old military adage that “time spent in reconnaissance is seldom wasted” and believed that the senior divisional commanders had twisted it into “No time for reconnaissance, get going!” So far in this campaign, Galloway had seen them hustle the infantry into “many minor disasters, which when added up, [resulted] not only in too many unnecessary casualties, but in a loss of faith in much of our leadership.”
This creeping barrage chilled his blood. In the Great War this tactic had been used successfully to “shoot the infantry onto the objective.” But that objective was generally no more than a few hundred or a thousand yards from where the infantry went over the top and into No Man’s Land. Simonds expected the RCR to march two miles to its start line in the afternoon heat of Sicily and then advance behind the barrage for another seven miles to Agira. “As any infantry officer knows,” he fretted, “controlling advancing infantry behind a succession of linear barrages over such a distance, especially when the ground is rough, undulating and scattered with orchards and farm buildings is next to impossible. The advancing troops lose the barrage as it moves on with mathematical precision and they move on as the ground allows.” But Simonds had “never fought as a foot soldier, or any other kind of a soldier for that matter, [and] appeared to have no appreciation of the physical limitations of even the best trained soldiers.”19
Nearby, the tank officers of the Three Rivers Regiment’s ‘A’ Squadron had been similarly briefed for their role in supporting the RCR advance. The intelligence summary given was optimistic. It stressed the fact that the PLDG had met no opposition before reaching Nissoria and mentioned only one known German strongpoint, which was about one thousand yards southwest of Agira. “The enemy troops are the same as we have previously engaged,” the briefing officer assured the men, “namely one Panzer Regiment, Italian troops and some reinforcements of paratroops.” ‘A’ Squadron was to assist the RCR in the attack and once Agira was taken, ‘C’ Squadron would “exploit to the east as far as a bridge on the river Salso . . . and hold the position” with the Hastings and Prince Edward Regiment at its side.20
By early afternoon, Simonds and most of his senior divisional officers were assembled on Castle Hill to observe the attack. A good number of British officers from xxx Corps were also in attendance. The division’s historical officer, Captain Gus Sesia, lay on his stomach on the cliff edge, and nearby the war artist, Will Ogilvie, busily sketched the scene. There was also a gaggle of war correspondents, including Lionel Shapiro of the Montreal Gazette. Although the correspondent found Simonds “colourless,” he thought him a “tactical genius.” At 1500 hours precisely, the guns roared and the attack went in. “As I looked over the side of precipitous Assoro, I could see the battle developing,” Shapiro wrote. “Tanks . . . were crawling along the single road; from this height they looked like undersized snails. The smoke of shell explosions rolled lazily over the valley. Now and again I could see the minute figures of infantry parties scurrying from shrubbery to shrubbery. The confused rumble of artillery and automatic fire filled the valley. It was suddenly cut through by the shriek of planes . . . Here was a panorama for the gods of war.”21
While Shapiro thought all was unfolding as it should, the division’s officers soon realized there were serious problems. “A lot of the shells passed over our heads,” Sesia wrote. “We could see the target quite plainly below us. It was a large field surrounded on three sides by a heavy wood. The artillery fire was fairly accurate, and from the bursts one could easily determine its concentrated nature.” Someone came up to stand next to where he lay and remarked that the concentration was quite good. “Yeah,” Sesia responded before turning and seeing he was addressing Simonds. The major general said “he was not satisfied with the smoke, though, and with reason. There was a fresh breeze blowing across the field at the time and the smoke concentration did not seem effective in spite of the number of shells dropped.”22 Simonds ordered the guns firing smoke rounds to increase their rate of fire from one to three shells per minute, but the crosswind continued to dissipate the smoke too rapidly for the screen to be effective.23
The valley was soon enveloped in a haze of smoke and dust from the exploding shells, making “visibility poor,” Sesia noted, “particularly for the Air Force.” One Kittyhawk after another peeled off to drop its bombs as close to the road as possible, but the historical officer realized that the five squadrons of medium bombers never showed up. He thought perhaps the poor visibility had resulted in their being warned off the target area.24 The true cause was a foul-up by the RAF signals arm, which had failed to notify the bomber squadrons of their task.25
Advancing along either side of Highway 121, the RCR enjoyed no such bird’s-eye view of the battleground. The battalion had begun marching at 1400 hours to gain its start line on a rise just east of the highway junction. ‘D’ Company’s Captain Charles Lithgow saw ahead the “undulating ground covered with olive groves and grape-vines while Nissoria looked white and deceptively clean in the burning sun. On the far side of the town, our intermediate objectives were two hills north and south of the white, winding road. On the northernmost of these was a red building, the only splash of colour in an otherwise drab picture.
“Everyone was in good spirits as the artillery barrage began its solid pounding and the troops plunged forward over the terraced hillsides toward Nissoria. The companies moved easily at first but with ever increasing difficulty over some of the steep slopes, and the barrage, lifting a hundred yards in two minutes began to draw ahead leaving an increasing gap between it and the forward troops. About one mile from the start line, ‘D’ and ‘B’ companies crossed to the north side of the road and the advance continued with the inner flanks of the companies moving on the road.”26
Captain Strome Galloway, like the other RCR commanders, had his platoons deployed in an arrowhead formation with one forward and two following close behind and out on either flank. The troops were arrayed in single file. As each platoon’s line wound through the orchards, many of the men “plucked apples, figs, and plums from the trees . . . Just as we were emerging from the treed area and coming out below Nissoria, CSM Goodridge ran forward and handed me a beautiful apple. I was munching this as we came out into the open.”27
Just behind the two leading companies, Lieutenant Colonel Ralph Crowe’s battalion headqu
arters section was coming up the road with the Three Rivers tanks of ‘A’ Squadron following in line. “As the ground leveled out near Nissoria,” Lithgow looked over his shoulder and saw the Shermans deploying “to either side of the road.” Everything seemed to be going perfectly, he thought, the expectation that Nissoria would not “prove much of an obstacle” bearing out. “In fact, the enemy had shown no reaction to this point. It was almost a training picture . . . the irregular line of troops moving steadily forward . . . shouts and hand signals from officers and NCOs controlling the advance . . . the ‘clank’ and whine of the Shermans as they lifted great clouds of dust...and in the distance the artillery laying a smoky, metal pall over the hills.
“All at once, with a shriek and a ‘crump’ ... enemy mortar fire fell upon the reserve platoons of the leading companies. Fortunately it was behind the forward troops and only became truly effective as they broke into the western section of the town. House cleaning was begun automatically, but with a difference...all the doors were locked and neither LMG [Bren light machine gun] nor Tommy gun fire would open them. This took everyone aback momentarily but it was decided to move on and assume the buildings empty, which indeed they were, for the inhabitants had fled.”28
The mortar fire that had fallen on Lithgow’s reserve platoons had also caught ‘B’ Company. Sergeant Lloyd Oakley, who was commanding the lead platoon, “had just gone over a slight crest when the barrage came down. Over to the right of us, near a cemetery, which stands on a hill, ‘A’ Company caught its full weight also,” Galloway observed. “My rear platoons kept advancing and closing up on the forward platoon, so I gave Oakley a shout and signalling with my cane, got the whole platoon to rush over the ridge and down into a depression ahead. They dashed forward although the whole area was smothered in clouds of dust and smoke.”29
