by Tim Saunders
Canadians practice bayonet fighting during the long months of training. Note the bayonet scabbards are still on.
Ross Munro.
‘They will always recall Aldershot where every division went for its initial training overseas; grey, dull, uninspiring Aldershot, where they lived in big prison-like barracks, drilled on the huge squares and were inspected by royalty and brass. Aldershot is as stiff and forbidding as a drill sergeant major and in this oppressive barracks town the Canadians got their first impression of England. They did not like it much... The war seemed very unreal to them.’
In the spring, and away from Aldershot to ‘the stately homes and spacious estates requisitioned for camps and barracks,’ the Canadians found that they were not to join the BEF in France as planned, but were to deploy to Norway. But before this move could take place, Norway was overrun and the Canadians returned to their camps in Southern England. When the Phoney War came to an end on 10 May 1940, as the Germans struck in the west, the Canadians were still in the UK. As the campaign disintegrated into defeat, there were proposals to reinforce the BEF in Calais, ‘but it was obvious that Calais would not hold for long. It would be a useless waste of men to reinforce the Rifle Brigade, and the plan to use the Canadians was not put into force.’ However, 1st Canadian Infantry Brigade sailed to Brest to join a British formation known as the ‘Second BEF,’ but this attempt to support the ‘fading French Armies was doomed to failure’. Advancing to within forty miles of Paris, the Canadians received orders to withdraw as the French crumbled to defeat. The Luftwaffe harried 1st Canadian Brigade as it marched back to evacuation at Brest.
As the Battle of Britain was being fought, 2nd Canadian Infantry Division (minus a brigade garrisoning strategically-important Iceland) arrived in Britain in August 1940. This division, and others that were to follow them across the Atlantic, initially took their place in defending the South Coast from the expected German invasion of the British Isles. Throughout the autumn of 1940 and into 1941, the Canadians shared the increasing privations of the British people, and became close to them, which resulted in many marriages, before the term ‘GI bride’ had even been invented.
As the threat of invasion gradually receded, and, like Napoleon, Hitler turned his attention to the east, the emphasis shifted to training. A year later, in the spring of 1942, the Canadians were champing at the bit, and wondering, with some justification, why they were not training back home in Canada. Officers censoring soldiers’ letters home reported increasing resentment against their enforced inactivity. However, this ‘trial for the patience of the Canadians’ did mean that Canadian HQs and units were more comprehensively prepared than many of their British allies, whose formations were constantly being called on to provide battle-casualty replacements for the Mediterranean and Far East theatres.
In the spring of 1942, the people of Horsham in Sussex became aware that the 2nd Canadian Division’s camps surrounding their town were empty. They were used to the Canadians disappearing on exercise, but not for so long. The 2nd Division had moved to the Isle of Wight, where with the Solent between it and the mainland, they were to train in great secrecy for the Dieppe raid. However, with the RAF yet to establish supremacy of the skies above the Isle of Wight, the Luftwaffe noted the growing number of vessels of all types assembling in the small ports along the Solent.
A Canadian crewed Churchill batters down an obstacle in one of the urban training areas in early 1942.
Canadian infantry train in the ‘blitzed’ ruins of an English town
Major General ‘Ham’ Roberts, Officer Commander 2nd Canadian Division.
A Mark I Churchill desembarking from a Tank Landing Craft on the Isle of White.
The training objective was simple: to prepare for the raid. However, as mentioned earlier, COHQ’s report records that there were no fewer than nineteen enabling objectives. These objectives, all with a strong commando flavour, ranged from ‘General agility training particularly up steep places of almost cliff gradient’ through ‘Practice with the actual loads which it was proposed would be carried by the assaulting troops’ to, ‘Street fighting with particular reference to intercommunication between small interdependent detachments’. This latter training took place amongst ‘blitzed buildings of West Cowes and Yarmouth, which daily rang to the sound of small arms and the crack of exploding grenades’. Amphibious training with landing craft, especially when the Calgary Regiment and their new 40-ton Churchill tanks began practising loading and off-loading with the new Landing Craft Tank (LCT), produced considerable speculation. However, only a handful of officers at Major General Robert’s Headquarters knew the reason behind this rigorous commando-type training.
A couple of exerpts from war diaries give a flavour of the Canadians’ training. On 8 June 1942, the adjutant of the South Saskatchewan Regiment recorded the day’s activities for the battalion:
‘HQ Coy on wire cutting, map and compass work. A Coy crossing wire obstacles, climbing and swimming. B Coy assault work and compass march. C Coy unarmed combat. Route march. D Coy route march and lecture on grenades. All coys on night schemes, compass march or crossing wire obstacles. Returning to camp at 0100 hours where they received a hot drink.’
Sleep was a precious commodity, and the South Saskatchewans were out early the next day, with reveille sounded at 0500 hours. The following day’s programme included amphibious training with LCAs. The soldiers of the Calgary Regiment had a seemingly easier physical regime, but after training, they had to spend many sleep-depriving hours maintaining their Churchill tanks. Their war diary described a typical day during their preparations.
‘23 May 42: 0600 hrs – Embarking, craft afloat.
0630 hrs to 0830 hrs – Cruise.
0830 hrs to 0900 hrs – Disembarking exercise. Craft afloat and
withdrawn when unloaded.
1000 hrs to 1300 hrs – Gunnery and small arms training.
1430 hrs to 1800 hrs – Troop Training.’
A Mark I Churchill climbing a seawall via a ‘lumber ramp’ during training.
The Dieppe Raid was to be the first amphibious attack in which armour was to be used. So the Calgary Regiment were not only training, they were also taking on an element of development work. This included perfecting the waterproofing of the Churchills, which now sported the characteristic extensions to their exhaust pipes.
Sergeant Major Dumais of the Fusiliers Mont Royal has written an account of the training from a soldier’s point of view:
‘Our training as commandos was designed to transform us from hard and well disciplined troops into men who refused to give up. Physical and psychological resistance had to be brought to a peak. To this end, we drove our men more and more ruthlessly... Our assault courses went uphill, naturally; but we made them go over it five or six times until they could not stand up... We trained in most dangerous conditions, climbing vertical cliffs in the minimum time, and crossed rivers on a rope... Each man had to get over with his full equipment... We lived in the open for several weeks with only a ground-sheet, a gas-cape, and two blankets for protection. We slept in our damp uniforms and when it rained we got wetter.
‘There was no question of using blanks for training: when firing around or over our troops, we used regular service ammunition. Bullets were one thing – they tend to go where they are aimed – but grenades, mortar bombs and shells are quite another... I was coming out of a building that we used for house-to-house fighting. I heard “Take cover!” and dived for the ground – but never got there. I was lifted, spun around, and woke up with my head in the corner, stunned and at first deaf but without a scratch.’
The Royal Canadian Engineers trained particularly hard with both the tanks and infantry, but their most important task was to open routes across the beaches, which in the case of Dieppe was up onto the open Esplanade. This involved getting the tanks over the six-foot-high seawall, emphasised in intelligence photographs and information as the most serious obstacle. Captain Whitaker wrote:<
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‘For the high walls, the sappers devised wooden ramps or stairways for the tanks to climb. Each of these ramps was made of five tons of lumber. A squad of 30 men trained hard to carry these loads an anticipated 30 yards and then assemble the ramps in an incredible five minutes.’
After a month’s intensive training, General Roberts noted a steady improvement in the time in which speed marches were completed, better shooting results and favourable comment on tact-ical exercises, COHQ reported:
‘By the 13th June, the troops were deemed to be sufficiently trained, and a full-scale exercise was carried out. It took place near Bridport on a coast as nearly as possible resembling that which was to be assaulted. The exercise was given the code name “Yukon I”
The Calgary muster with ‘crews front’ before embarking for Exercise Yukon II.
Canadian soldiers being briefed on their part in Operation Rutter.
...It was not altogether successful and revealed certain deficiencies in the training of all three services. The main errors were, that a landing was made on the wrong beach, that many of the Tank Landing Craft were late, that some of the landings took place at the wrong time and in broad daylight, that the liaison between personnel of the Royal Engineers and the Infantry was defective and that the infantry progressed inland at a very slow rate.
‘Not altogether successful’ was not how the Canadians viewed the assault exercise on the Dorset coast at Bridport. It was a disaster. Battalions were landed up to two miles from their designated beaches, and, as in the case of the Calgary Regiment, some units landed well behind schedule. A HQ South Eastern Command officer reported that as a result of the appalling landing:
‘The division fell into an indescribable confusion, which was in itself sufficient to throw doubt on the feasibility of the operation, even though there was no enemy present to turn confusion into bloodshed and slaughter.’
Without a successful rehearsal, Admiral Mountbatten could not authorise Operation Rutter to proceed. As explained in his HQ’s post-operational review:
‘On receiving a report of this exercise, the Chief of Combined Operations decided to hold a second exercise known as “Yukon II” on the 23rd June. This decision was not reached without some difficulty, for to carry it out entailed a postponement of the operation. The Chief of Combined Operations, however, considered it essential for another exercise to take place, and the postponement was accepted. This second exercise, which was witnessed by the Chief of Combined Operations, was much more successful and he therefore decided to carry out the operation at the first favourable date after the 24th June.’
Though still far from prefect (particularly in naval aspects), there was sufficient improvement and assurances of lessons being learned to allow Operation Rutter to proceed. The troops were embarked, briefed, and sealed from contact with those not taking part in the operation.
Canadian officers photographed during Yukon I
Only on 27 June were the majority of the officers made aware of the fact that they were training for an actual operation rather than an exercise; the men were only briefed on 2 July when they embarked on their landing ships and craft. Unaware that the Rutter plan was already unravelling, the soldiers were pleased at the prospect of action. Captain Denis Whitaker wrote of the Canadians’ optimism:
‘We had trained hard; we were confident that we were ready for action – as fit and tough and skilled as a soldier could be. We infantrymen saw ourselves surging onto the beach under the umbrella of thundering naval guns.’
Cancellation
While the Force waited in its ships and landing craft all assembled in the Isle of Wight’s Solent ports, ‘during the last week in June and the first week in July, the weather intervened.’ This was a sustained period of poor weather, with winds well above Force 3, a sea state that for much of the period precluded amphibious operations with tanks, and placed the vital airborne element of the plan out of the question. ‘The weather continued to be unsuitable and on the 5 July, the operation was postponed.’ The delay led to another modification of Rutter’s plan:
‘It had been worked out that, if the expedition was to take place on the 7th July, it would be impossible, owing to the state of the tide, to re-embark the tanks until some three hours later than would have been the case on Saturday, the 4th July, and that, in consequence, three hours further air cover would be necessary. The Military Force Commander now expressed the opinion that these extra hours would give the enemy an opportunity to organise infantry and artillery opposition on a scale which might prejudice the re-embarkation. The Force Commanders, therefore, agreed... that in their view the operation should not be carried out in its original form on the 7th July, and that the plan had a diminishing chance of success as each day passed. The Chief of Combined Operations thereupon directed the Force Commanders to consider a modified plan whereby the operation should take place on one tide. It would begin as nearly as possible to the time of low-water and be completed or nearly completed by the next following high-water.’
This ‘one-tide’ plan enabled the RAF air support to be increased, as the duration of the operation would be reduced from twenty hours to just twelve hours. With the tanks needing to withdraw before the tide receded too far, the time they would be ashore would be reduced. Consequently, tasks such as the attack on the St Aubin aerodrome and on the German divisional headquarters at Arques-la-Bataille would be without tank support. It would also not be possible to carry out a full intelligence search of these facilities, and there was only time to make a few quick demolitions. ‘This plan commended itself to the Force Commanders and it was agreed to adopt it.’
But on 7 July, before the abbreviated plan could come into effect and the Canadians go ashore at Dieppe, the enemy intervened. The Combined Ops report recorded that:
‘While awaiting the order to proceed against the enemy,... some of the force was anchored in Yarmouth Roads, some in Cowes Roads and the remainder in Southampton Water... at 0615 hours four German fighter bombers, believed to be FW 190s, dropped four 500 kilogram bombs on HMS Princess Astrid and HMS Princess Josephine Charlotte lying in Yarmouth Roads with troops on board. Both ships were hit and the damage done to HMS Princess Josephine Charlotte was severe. The bomb went through the mess decks into the engine room, thence through the bottom of the ship and exploded underneath; putting the ship out of commission ... Whether the enemy had an inkling that the expedition was about to sail cannot be known for certain. He made frequent air reconnaissance flights during the last week of June and the first week of July.’
The weather continued to be bad, and with two ships now out of action, the operation was formally cancelled on 7 July.
The force of some 10,000 men returned from the Isle of Wight to their normal bases around the country. Obviously, all these fully-briefed naval personnel and troops knew about the operation in considerable detail. The official report commented that, ‘There is no doubt that talk and rumours were rife for some time after the dispersal of the Force’. The possibility of there having been a leak concerning the operation, and that it was picked up and reported by enemy agents, was investigated at the time. The likelihood of this having occured has been hotly debated ever since. However, at the time it was assessed that enemy intelligence reports would have indicated that this was a cancelled raid, not one that was about to happen.
Revival of the Operation
The Rutter plan had been shelved, but, there were still hopes to revive the operation. The process by which the raid was revived just six weeks later is still shrouded with secrecy and has developed its own mythology. Suffice it to say that, as recorded by Captain Whitaker, there was a feeling that the operation ‘was being pushed relentlessly towards its conclusion by a powerful unseen force’.
Reasons behind this unseen force have been hotly debated. Mountbatten perhaps provided a clue when he wrote:
‘Since we cannot conceal from the Germans that we are intending operations, and, indeed, part of the object of
these operations is to keep them in a state of suspense, I welcome any publicity that might arise from this scheme.’
This clearly indicates the intent to keep German divisions in the West. It is also reported that the American reaction to the cancellation of Rutter was a restatement of their threat: if the British did not take action, they would reconsider the ‘Germany-first’ decision and concentrate on the Pacific theatre. Consequently, on 27 July, the Chiefs of Staff Committee issued a new Directive to Admiral Mountbatten. The COHQ report records that:
‘The next most favourable period for carrying out a raid on Dieppe would occur during August. It was accordingly decided to re-mount the operation, the code name for which was changed from “Rutter” to “Jubilee”.’
