by Mark Zuehlke
The German machine gun was still chattering away. Ten feet from Potvin, Corporal Cloutier was hit in the forehead by a round and dropped dead. Potvin was sickened and enraged. Cloutier was old guard. He had been in ‘B’ Company in England and had landed with Potvin in Sicily. If the damned tanks would come up, he could send one to crush the gun under its tracks. Looking over his shoulder, however, he saw that the tanks were about a thousand yards back and that two of the three were burning. The three tanks supporting ‘C’ Company were holding a position near the surviving tank of his own support group, so he tried to reach them on the radio to ask for assistance. The set was broken. He fired a green flare. This signal indicated that a machine gun was holding up the advance and that tanks should assist. The tanks did not budge. A red flare indicating an antitank gun drew no response. ‘B’ Company would have to win or lose its fight alone, Potvin decided.
Already the troops were breaking up the visible resistance. While No. 10 Platoon’s 2-inch mortar team bombarded the pillbox with rounds, Lieutenant Audrin and a platoon section tried to get through the wire and close on the position. Potvin went to assist with another section drawn from Lieutenant R.L. St.-Onge’s platoon. Suddenly, the fog that had blanketed the battlefield lifted. With growing horror, Potvin saw that his company was directly in the centre of a semicircle of German emplacements. Gun flashes erupted all around the Canadians as the Germans saw their exposed prey. A bullet slammed into Potvin’s left hip and exited his back close to the spine. The impact threw him into the air and his knees snapped up just under his chin so that he landed on the ground in a fetal position. He was unable to rise because of excruciating pain each time he tried to move. At his side, the captain’s radio operator desperately tried to get the set working so he could call for help. Potvin shouted to Audrin to hold his position and keep the Germans busy while he sent St.-Onge’s platoon to establish a holding position on the right flank.
Lying on the ground in the tall wheat, Potvin could see little of how the manoeuvre was proceeding or whether it was succeeding at all. He threw his map case to Audrin and told him to take control of the company. Audrin started crawling toward St.-Onge. Artillery shells exploded all over the company’s tenuous position, and “a storm of fire and steel swallowed us. The ground shook as if we were near an erupting volcano.” Potvin could see that some men were breaking. If the men panicked and ran, Potvin knew the Germans could wipe out the entire company. Picking out those who looked on the edge of cracking, Potvin harshly reminded them to do their duty. Crawling painfully toward the nearest soldiers, he was hit in the left forearm by another bullet — his third wound. Seconds later, a piece of shrapnel from an exploding shell slashed a deep, long gash into his arm just above the bullet wound.
Company Sergeant Major Garceau and stretcher-bearer Private Gagnon rushed over and tried to staunch the flow of blood running from the four wounds. To reassure his men, Potvin sang “Alouette.” Although a bullet broke Audrin’s wrist, the young officer continued directing the company’s resistance. St.-Onge meanwhile led a rush against the pillbox. As he was about to throw a grenade, the lieutenant was struck by a bullet. He fell to the ground, the live grenade landing alongside him. When it exploded, St.-Onge was killed. Sergeant Gérard Poitras of Chicoutimi took over his platoon.13 As Audrin’s wounds were now too painful for him to lead the company effectively, CSM Drapeau assumed command. Minutes later he, too, was wounded.
Royal Canadian Horse Artillery Forward Observation Officer Captain Keith Saunders, was also caught in the crossfire. Seeing that all the infantry officers were either dead or wounded, the artillery officer took charge, assisted by sergeants L. Couturier and Fernand Trembley. They tried to slowly shift the forward platoons to a strong-point established 200 yards back by the reserve platoon. Despite managing to shoot some snipers out of trees and knocking out one machine-gun position, ‘B’ Company remained completely pinned down by heavy German fire from all sides. There was no way the surrounded company could break out on its own, even if it abandoned the eighteen wounded men.14
At 1200 hours, Allard drove his Jeep up to ‘C’ Company’s headquarters section. Bellavance’s company was behind and to the right of the cut-off ‘B’ Company. Allard saw that all his companies were under “heavy fire and suffering heavy casualties. Guns, mortars, machine guns, and snipers, all that the German could muster, seemed to be centred on the four rifle companies. Before them one could plainly see the barbed wire and the pill boxes in the enemy lines.”15
‘C’ Company’s position was little better than ‘B’ Company’s. Lieutenant Claude Gagnon’s platoon was pinned down and Lieutenant Roger Piché was down with a bullet in his arm. Allard called for artillery fire against the German positions, but was told all the artillery was either out of range or now committed to the 78th Division’s drive toward Aquino. He refused the offered 4.2-inch mortars, fearing their less-than-accurate fire would hit his own exposed men. The situation, Allard decided, was hopeless. The attack must be broken off or his regiment would be wiped out inside the salient trap. Ordering smoke fired on the German positions, Allard jumped into his Jeep and drove toward 3 CIB headquarters to get permission for a retreat. At ‘A’ Company, he told Captain Henri Tellier to coordinate a withdrawal plan with Major Ovila Garceau and to be ready to move on Allard’s order. Just outside ‘A’ Company’s position, a burst of machine-gun fire shattered Allard’s windshield. His driver, Private Denis, was wounded, but Allard was not even scratched. He dived into a ditch and headed for the rear on foot, leaving his bodyguard, Private Geonais, to tend the wounded driver.
Geonais, however, managed to start the Jeep, even though it was under constant fire from the German machine gun. Crouching next to the driver’s side, he slowly guided the bullet-riddled vehicle down the road until it was out of the German gunner’s range. Then he jumped in and caught up with Allard. Denis was still alive, somehow not having been hit by the many bullets that struck the Jeep during its extraction under fire. Allard took the wheel and raced to the rear, where he dropped Denis at an aid station before hurrying on to see Bernatchez. At 1300 hours, he asked Bernatchez for permission to order a withdrawal. Bernatchez immediately sought authorization from Vokes.
While Allard anxiously waited, Bernatchez argued with Vokes. Allard realized that the divisional commander was proving difficult to convince, even though men had to be dying with every minute’s delay.16 When ‘C’ Company came up on the brigade radio pleading for permission to withdraw, Allard could only tell them to “take up a good position and wait for orders.”17 Finally, Vokes acquiesced. Allard rushed from 3 CIB headquarters back to his companies. Along the way, a report came in that five of the six tanks were knocked out. At 1405 hours, Allard burst into regimental headquarters and passed the order to the forward companies to undertake a fighting withdrawal. He told Major Garceau of ‘D’ Company to assume command of ‘B’ Company and bring both units out together. Bellavance radioed that he had twenty-five wounded, including one officer. ‘C’ Company broke off contact with the Germans and cleared out from behind ‘B’ Company. Garceau then sent a platoon forward to link up with ‘B’ Company.18
Inside ‘B’ Company’s perimeter, the situation was chaotic as the men prepared for what would be a hazardous breakout under fire. Although also wounded, Drapeau was trying to convince Potvin to agree to be evacuated and he had two stretcher-bearers ready to load the wounded officer. A small party of walking wounded was going to slip through the corridor that Garceau’s platoon had opened up between ‘D’ and ‘B’ companies. Drapeau wanted to send Potvin out with the wounded men. Potvin refused to consider the idea. “I go out with the company,” he said, “not before.” The captain still believed that, if his company were reinforced and supported by tanks, a break in the Hitler Line could be effected. With the radios all out of action, Potvin was unaware that ‘D’ Company was establishing contact with his company not to continue the offensive but rather to enable a withdrawal.19
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sp; Lieutenant Harry Pope coordinated the company’s effort to get its wounded out to ‘D’ Company’s lines. He made three trips carrying a wounded man on his back to safety each time. After the third trip, he set off to return to ‘C’ Company’s lines and disappeared. (Taken prisoner, Pope would later escape with four other men and cross into Allied lines in late June.) From ‘D’ Company’s perimeter, the many wounded in both companies were being evacuated by men carrying them out on their backs or in the regimental Jeeps, whose drivers bravely charged through enemy fire to reach the wounded troops. Driver C.A. Robitaille made several trips through intense German fire, bringing back two to three men each time. Although he had mounted a Red Cross flag on the Jeep, the German fire directed his way never slackened. A shell killed two stretcher-bearers who were carrying a wounded man to safety.20
When the shelling eased for a moment, Potvin struggled to his feet to see what was happening. A bullet slammed into his right wrist, breaking it. The bullet whirled him around and threw him to the ground. Regaining his senses a few minutes later, he found himself alone. It seemed his men had withdrawn while he lay there dazed. Even the dead had been carried away and Potvin realized that somehow he had been overlooked, probably because the impact of the last bullet had tumbled him into a small hole.21
At 1450 hours, ‘D’ Company had established a sufficiently strong link with ‘B’ Company to enable Potvin’s embattled troops to withdraw into the forward positions of Garceau’s leading platoons. The men went slowly, the remnants of platoon sections leapfrogging back through each other so that when one section moved, the other was behind it and able to provide protective fire. When ‘B’ Company passed through ‘D’ Company, Garceau ordered his men to start falling back. The entire manoeuvre was carried out under heavy German gunfire and constant mortar and artillery bombardment. At 1540, the two companies passed Allard’s tactical headquarters. He assumed that those who were going to escape from the deadly salient in which the regiment had spent an eleven-hour ordeal had done so.
Out of an initial strength of just under 400 men, the regiment had suffered 57 casualties. Allard was sickened that his “regiment had been the victim of the recklessness of High Command, which had sent it on a dubious mission on the basis of relatively limited information and without artillery support to surprise the defenders.” Divisional staff, he thought, had not “shown much imagination in assuming that the Germans would abandon such well-built fortifications, which enabled them to contain the advance of the Eighth Army with minimum forces.” Allard later wrote that he was “left with a bad taste in my mouth about the whole affair. I looked on those who had analysed the intelligence reports as ill-advised bureaucrats. And after this event I retained serious doubts about the competence of commanders who had blindly made the decision to hurl us, without preparation, against lines supposed to be abandoned shortly anyway. My friend and comrade Paul Bernatchez, who had reluctantly transmitted the order, silently shared the same opinion. He was as deeply affected as I by the losses his former regiment had suffered, losses that were to contribute very little to the eventual victory.”22
Allard sent a prearranged signal to Bernatchez, who then directed a heavy artillery concentration into the salient to break up any German counterattack that might be forming to strike the Royal 22e Regiment while it was on the move. The regiment was to withdraw behind the West Nova Scotia Regiment, which had established a position alongside the Carleton and York Regiment.23
Out in the salient, Potvin heard German voices approaching. Despite the wounds to his arms, shoulder, wrist, and hip, he crawled about twenty yards away from their line of approach. Potvin was “exhausted, covered in sweat and blood, but determined to regain the Canadian lines and not to be captured.” Surrender was unthinkable. As he started crawling, a burst of submachine-gun fire from a German Schmeisser kicked dirt up around him. Potvin rolled into a wagon rut and played dead. It was impossible for him to tell whether the fire had been intentional or just random searching fire.
Suddenly, shells and mortar bombs started exploding all around, sending great gouts of soil and flame firing into the air. The heavy hammering of Vickers machine guns told Potvin that the fire came from his own side. He imagined his good friend Major Rolly Yelle of the Saskatoon Light Infantry Regiment, which provided 3 CIB with heavy machine gun and 4.2-inch mortar support, directing the fire and almost laughed. “How ironic,” he thought, “that, having escaped from the Germans so far, I am killed by our own fire, directed by my friend.” A heavy feeling that he recognized as the result of blood loss settled over his brain. Although he struggled against it, Potvin passed out.
An hour later, he regained consciousness. His thirst was terrible, and his water bottle lost. Plucking some green grass, he chewed on it with the hope of extracting some coolness and moisture. The sun, however, had dried it and he was left with nothing but “the taste of dust on my lips.” He stared up at the intense blue sky and prayed “to the Virgin Mary as only a miserable, wounded soldier might.” Potvin was shortly convinced that his prayers were directly answered, for a light rain started falling. The drops striking his sunburned face felt refreshing, but his feeble attempts to catch enough water in his hands for a drink failed. He chewed on the rough fabric of his rain-drenched uniform. The small amount of water gained this way left him surprisingly refreshed.
Nearby, Potvin could hear Germans moving through the grain. Periodically, they fired bursts from their submachine guns, as if they were either finishing off wounded soldiers or hoping to flush out any who, like him, might be in hiding. Confused about their intentions, Potvin crawled away from their line of movement. A look at his watch told him that darkness was still some hours away. If he could remain hidden until nightfall, he might still reach the Canadian lines and survive this hellish day.
May 19 had not developed the way Lieutenant General Tommy Burns had envisioned. The I Canadian Corps commander had truly expected the Van Doos to break through the Hitler Line and open a gap through which a flying column from 5th Canadian Armoured Division could plunge. Even at 1400 hours, as Allard was initiating the regiment’s withdrawal, Burns and Major General Bert Hoffmeister were conferring about the breakthrough force. Hoffmeister told Burns that the Irish Regiment of Canada, the tanks of the British Columbia Dragoon Guards, a battery of ten self-propelled antitank guns, and a squadron of the Governor General’s Horse Guards reconnaissance regiment were ready and waiting. Burns advised him to maintain sufficient flexibility in his dispositions to allow for a quick shift of the force to other parts of the Liri Valley should 1st Canadian Infantry Brigade or elements of XIII Corps near Aquino open a hole before 3rd Canadian Infantry Brigade. Burns actually hoped that a breakout might come in the south near Pontecorvo, so that 5 CAD could swing northward in a wide arc to link up with XIII Corps advancing south from Aquino. Between them, the two forces could then surround and destroy the German divisions forming up along the Hitler Line.
Such optimistic plans were dashed, however, when Burns returned to his headquarters and phoned Eighth Army commander General Sir Oliver Leese. By now, Leese knew there would be no breakthrough at Aquino and that the R22eR attack had ended in a bloody repulse. He told Burns “to plan for a set attack in about forty-eight hours time and to institute the necessary preparations.”24
In a letter to his wife, Leese wrote that May 19 had been: “A disappointing day — all along the line we have come up against strong defences.”25 Leese was not terribly surprised by the failed attacks, for such hastily thrown–together affairs were always gambles. Eighth Army would now proceed with the type of offensive for which it was noted and with which it was most experienced — a carefully planned set-piece assault carried out with methodical precision.
The intelligence staff at I Canadian Corps headquarters chose to explain the setback as the logical outcome of probing the Hitler Line “in strength,” rather than a failed breakthrough. One staff officer described the German defenders as “a hotch-potch of units,
which, given time to sort themselves out, would probably remain on the line as long as we permitted them to do so. So far the enemy, failing to appreciate the weight of our attack, has committed his immediately available reserves and more strategic reserves piece by piece, rather than mount a counterattack on a divisional level. Not once has he reinforced any sector by a group larger than regimental size. This indecision has produced the picture as we now know it: reserves put in anywhere the thin line was weakening resulting in the variety of units identified, under the command of the formation HQ into whose sector they were committed.” Leese predicted that, lacking a division-sized reserve, the Germans would now try to regroup into more organized lines of resistance. “Consequently, the momentum which has been lost for a time must be regained before the enemy has a breather to carry out the regrouping and reorganizing of which he is now badly in need.”26
Once it became obvious that the attack must fail, Vokes personally reconnoitred the Hitler Line from the safety of the overlooking low ridge occupied by his forward regiments. The front faced by 1st Canadian Infantry Division stretched approximately 4,500 yards from a point on the north where the Forme d’Aquino passed through the German line to the Liri River on the south. From the maps, Vokes knew the right front had no natural features that would impede armoured movement. On the left, however, a steep ravine ran from the Liri River to a point where it petered out about midway across the Canadian front. Mindful of the debacle presented by The Gully during the Ortona battle, Vokes wanted to avoid attacking across this ravine. He knew the entire front was riddled with antitank minefields, but believed a creeping barrage should detonate enough of these to enable the tanks to get through. If this failed, he surmised, “the tanks must take their chances as prior mine clearance of lanes through known minefields was not possible under these circumstances.” Vokes decided his divisional attack would strike against the right flank.
