by Mark Zuehlke
Juno Beach
JUNO BEACH
CANADA’S D-DAY VICTORY: JUNE 6, 1944
MARK ZUEHLKE
Copyright © 2004 by Mark Zuehlke
U.S. edition © 2005
03 04 05 06 07 5 4 3 2 1
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National Library of Canada Cataloguing in Publication Data
Zuehlke, Mark
Juno Beach: Canada’s D-Day victory, June 6, 1944 / Mark Zuehlke.
Includes bibliographical references and index.
ISBN 1-55365-050-6
1. World War, 1939–1945—Campaigns—France—Normandy.
2. Canada. Canadian Army—History—World War, 1939–1945. I. Title.
D756.5.N6Z83 2004 940.54’21422 C2004-901051-4
Library of Congress information is available upon request
Editing by Elizabeth McLean
Jacket and text design by Peter Cocking
Jacket photograph Gilbert Alexander Milne, NAC PA–137013
Typesetting by Rhonda Ganz
Printed and bound in Canada by Friesens
Printed on acid-free paper
Distributed in the U.S. by Publishers Group West
We gratefully acknowledge the
financial support of the Canada Council for the Arts, the British Columbia Arts Council,
and the Government of Canada through the Book Publishing Industry
Development Program (BPIDP) for our publishing activities.
Everything in war is simple, but the simplest thing is difficult.
CARL VON CLAUSEWITZ
What is War? A barbaric profession,
of which the only art is to be stronger
at a given place.
NAPOLEON, SEPTEMBER 6, 1812
ON THE EVE OF BORODINO
We came in at the beach, but ’twas hard to reach,
And many lost their lives.
We won our goal, but the terrible toll
Caused grief to far off wives.
BOMBARDIER R.A. EGO,
3RD CANADIAN INFANTRY DIVISION
Dip gently your scythe good reaper now
O’er the fields of the hallowed dead
For young men fought and young men died
Near the sea, where the earth is red.
CAPTAIN STANLEY E. HIGGS,
3RD CANADIAN INFANTRY DIVISION
[ CONTENTS ]
Preface
Acknowledgements
Maps
INTRODUCTION Green On
PART ONE THE ROAD TO OVERLORD
1 Maximum Force Needed
2 The Web-Footed Division
3 Learning New Skills
4 Death or Glory
5 The Intelligence Fog
6 Spoiling for a Fight
7 To Die Gloriously
PART TWO BATTLE FOR THE BEACH
8 No Bands or Cheering Crowds
9 Stick to the Objective
10 All Aflame
11 Roll Me Over, Lay Me Down
12 Merry Hell
13 The Real Thing
14 Go! Go! Go!
PART THREE BREAKOUT
15 Nothing for Shame
16 In Good Fettle
17 An Awful Shambles
18 A Fairly Rugged Day
19 Beginning of the End
20 A Great Initiation
21 At All Costs
22 A Degree of Gallantry
23 Such a Sad Day
EPILOGUE Juno Beach in Memory
APPENDIX A Canadians at Juno Beach
APPENDIX B Royal Canadian Navy Ships in the Invasion
APPENDIX C Abbreviations Guide to the Landing Fleet
APPENDIX D Canadian Infantry Battalion
APPENDIX E Canadian Army Order of Rank
APPENDIX F German Army Order of Rank
APPENDIX G The Decorations
Notes
Bibliography
General Index
Index of Formations, Units, and Corps
About the Author
PREFACE
IN 2003, with the publication of The Gothic Line, I completed a three-volume history of the major battles fought by Canadians during World War II’s Italian campaign and was left to ponder the question, “What next?” My interest in Canada’s experiences in World War II was undiminished and I suspected many a story still remained to be told. With the Italian campaign books, I had forayed onto a field of combat that had been little regarded by Canadian writers—academic or popular. So there had been a satisfaction in pulling back the mist that had begun to cloak that major historical period and shining a light upon it. Consequently, my first instinct was to look for other forgotten campaigns that had slipped for whatever reason from the national consciousness. Casting about through Canadian official accounts, the popular histories, and the academic treatises regarding various battles, I was surprised to find that areas once thought well mined appeared less so. My searches brought me to the Normandy invasion and more specifically June 6, 1944—D-Day.
In my imagining, the Canadian experience of this seminal historic day had to have been well trodden by past writers, but on closer inspection I discovered the truth to be entirely different. In fact, Canada’s D-Day was something treated only in passing by most writers looking at the Normandy invasion and subsequent campaign of almost three-month duration. Those books that were primarily dedicated to June 6 were slight, little more than leaflets. On the opposite side of the balance were a number of monolithic renderings relying on virtually untouched veteran accounts that were generally published by the associations of the regiments present on June 6. Although these latter works contained vast amounts of rich reminiscences, they were organized rather randomly so that readers were left with no context in which to align the described experiences.
A gap in the telling of Canada’s D-Day story became evident. So into this gap I ventured and this book is the outcome.
In the Italian trilogy, I drew heavily on veteran accounts and approached many old soldiers who had never before been asked what happened to them on those fields of battle. By sifting their personal stories in with the historical records generated by the army at the time, it was possible to develop a dramatic narrative that depicted the course of the battle in detail but also enabled the reader to experience combat at a soldier’s eye level. I have followed the same method here.
There are those, particularly academic historians, who consider veteran accounts suspect and so rely almost entirely on the official record. In my own experience, I have found that the veteran memory is trustworthy and, where the record is contradicted, tend to accept the account as rendered by the soldiers who lived it. Normally, it is possible to compare the versions of an event as recalled by several veterans and find sufficient common ground to develop a clear sense of what happened at a particular place and time. It is in this manner that events hinted at in the historical record but not explained are also revealed. Take, for example, a singular mention in the Sherbrooke Fusiliers Regiment war diary of its tanks carrying North Nova Scotia Highlanders off the beach aboard “porpoises.” What was this? Interviews with Fusiliers unearth the fact that ammunition bins were slung under their tanks for the la
nding. These were alternatively nicknamed porpoises or alligators. Then a North Nova veteran recounts how he and the other men in his section jumped onto an ammunition “catamaran” that was hooked to the back of the tank and were dragged like kids on a horse-drawn sleigh over snow off to their war in Normandy’s interior. A little mystery solved.
Veteran memory, of course, is dimming with the passage of time. These days, the researcher is generally left with fragments of events rather than a complete narrative retelling. But the fragment from one veteran, stitched onto the sliver of memory offered by another and informed by the official records and accounts makes it possible to develop a credible narrative. More so, I think, than if only veteran memory or official account is trusted. Inevitably, there are points where the collective veteran memory and that of the official record stand in stark disagreement, with no reconciliation possible. At those times, I have tended to trust my gut instinct and must confess that most of the time it is the veteran version that is accepted.
Ultimately, it is the veterans of D-Day who lived through one of the most intensely horrific long days in history, buried friends who did not, and carried the memory of June 6 for the rest of their lives. This is their story.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
A SPECIAL DEBT OF THANKS is owed to the many veterans whose stories appear in this book. Without them, Juno Beach would not exist. It is impossible to mention all of the veterans here, but they are all listed in the bibliography. I would like to single out, though, Stan Richardson, who trusted his time-worn diary tracing his service as a telegraphist on the minesweeper HMCSBayfield to Canada Post so I might study it. My trepidation remained high as I undertook copying the diary and accompanying photos and then waited anxiously until it returned safely to Stan’s home in Powell River.
This time out, I was assisted immensely in gathering veteran interviews by John Gregory Thompson of Ingersoll, Ontario. John tirelessly and enthusiastically visited veterans scattered throughout southern Ontario, spending many hours conducting taped interviews on my behalf. It is to his credit that so many veterans are included here. Ken MacLeod of Langley, B.C., shared the interviews he has gathered over the years in both video and audio form of veterans in the Vancouver area. Major Michael Boire, associate professor at Royal Military College, generously interviewed lieutenant colonels Don Mingay and Ernest Côté—key officers in 3rd Canadian Infantry Division’s headquarters—on my behalf.
In Normandy, Isabelle Bodin-Benjamin went out of her way to gather a group of elderly gentlemen who lived through the invasion and tried to translate the resulting happily chaotic interview at the PMU Bar in Courseulles-sur-Mer. At home, the tape of this interview ended up in the capable hands of Ottawa translator and good friend Alex MacQuarrie. He and colleague Claude Bolduc somehow managed to sort out the wheat from the chaff of people placing bets in the background and everyone in the bar tossing in their two Euros’ worth to make sense of the interview. Also in Normandy, Jean-Pierre Benamou, a local historian, allowed me to tag along for part of a briefing on the invasion that he was giving a fresh batch of interpreters at the Juno Beach Centre.
The Royal Winnipeg Rifles Association (British Columbia Association) kindly donated a copy of their compiled collection of veteran accounts entitled Perspectives.
At the Canadian War Museum, Roger Sarty very helpfully directed me to the best source documents that could be found at the Department of National Defence’s Directorate of Heritage and History Archives with reference to the Royal Canadian Navy’s role in the invasion. That led to Major Michel Litalien tracking them down for me and then Stephanie Burton undertaking the colossal photocopying task. Steve Harris at the directorate was also, as always, a great help. Back at the Canadian War Museum archives, Carol Reid was a delight to spend an afternoon burrowing through documents with, and in the library there Liliane Reid Lafleur was of great assistance. Thanks also to staff at the National Archives of Canada and the University of Victoria Special Collections.
I am indebted to Professor Jack Granatstein for granting permission to consult his files on Major General Rod Keller at York University.
Thanks, too, to Rosalie A. Hartigan for permission to quote passages from the late Dan Hartigan’s book, A Rising of Courage. Also used with permission from his Battle Diary: From D-Day and Normandy to the Zuider Zee, by Charles Martin (Toronto: Dundurn, 1994), are several passages written by the eminently respected Company Sergeant Major of the Queen’s Own Rifles of Canada.
A major chunk of the work on Juno Beach was carried out while writer-in-residence at the Berton House in Dawson, Yukon. My thanks to the Berton House Writers Society for giving me this opportunity for a three-month stay there and to Pierre Berton for donating the home for this use in the first place. Thanks also to the BC Arts Council, whose financial assistance helped make researching and writing this book possible.
My new publisher, Scott McIntyre, at Douglas & McIntyre deserves much praise for having rescued the Italian trilogy from disappearing into the realm of out-of-print books after the collapse of Stoddart Publishing in 2002. His enthusiasm for Juno Beach and commitment to future works on Canada’s World War II experience is heartening to see. Scott sets a tone at D&M that obviously works because everyone there is a pleasure to work with, whether editors, publicists, or designers.
Speaking of editing, immense thanks to Elizabeth McLean for agreeing to step once more into the breach of working on a book about battle. C. Stuart Daniel also stepped up to the plate again to provide the maps. My agent Carolyn Swayze continues to ensure this writer’s career prospers sufficiently to keep writing such research-intensive books possible.
Another person who came forward to help was Colonel Tony Poulin, a veteran of the Royal 22nd Regiment who some readers will remember from The Gothic Line. Tony had become a good friend over the years and kindly consented to translate Le Régiment de la Chaudière war diary entries and relevant parts of the text of their regimental history into English for me. Soon after he completed this task, Tony suffered a fatal injury during a tragic fall at his home in St. Bruno, Quebec. He is dearly missed.
Finally, I remain blessed to have the continued support of Frances Backhouse, a true partner in this writing life who’s always game to trudge a battlefield come rain or shine.
[ INTRODUCTION ]
Green On
IT WAS THE SILENCE. Major Lockhart Ross Fulton—“Lochie” to friends—knew intellectually that out there in the impenetrable blackness thousands of other ships surrounded the HMS Canterbury and all steered a precisely charted and timed course across the English Channel towards the coast of France. But he could neither see nor hear them. The only sounds were the gentle murmur of sea brushing past Canterbury’s hull, the throb of the ship engines, and the occasional soft-spoken conversation among the bridge crew. Yet in just a few minutes, the minute hand would sweep past midnight and the date would be June 6, 1944. The greatest armada in history was at sea. No navigational lights showed; the wireless radio was deathly silent. There was a dreamlike quality to standing here on the coastal liner’s bridge at the shoulder of the ship’s captain, sipping hot char and staring out at the blackness.
Fulton knew, though, that this was no dream. Nor was it another of the many amphibious and landing exercises that 3rd Canadian Infantry Division and 2nd Canadian Armoured Brigade had participated in since being selected a year earlier for a starring role in the invasion assault force. Come dawn, the major would be at the invasion’s sharpest end when he took the Royal Winnipeg Rifles’ ‘D’ Company ashore in the first assault wave.
Among the gear Fulton had lugged aboard was a large jute sack with its opening tightly closed and secured by a lock. Some hours earlier, when Canterbury had reached the designated point of no return, Fulton had opened the lock and emptied the sack’s contents. This consisted of a stack of identical, highly detailed maps that showed where the Canadians were going to land. Until now, Fulton had been the only man in ‘D’ Company to know that the a
rmada sailed towards the Normandy coast and a stretch of beach that was home to several insignificant seaside villages.1
As he handed the maps out to his young officers, Fulton knew that in a few short hours these place names would be entwined with Canada’s history. But at this stage, his company and platoon commanders showed only scant interest in the identity of the villages previously known only by codenames. What did it matter that the village to the left of their landing beach was now labelled Courseulles-sur-Mer rather than Alba?2 Of more importance was the fact that these maps accorded with those they had used earlier in the weeks and months of preparations for the invasion. There would, then, be no surprises now that they knew the ships were bound for Normandy rather than the Pas de Calais or other possible landing sites on the northwest European coastline.
It was also grimly ironic that the betting pool to which they had contributed nightly for weeks would go unclaimed because the winner was to be the one who correctly predicted the invasion point. Nobody had thought of Normandy. Who would be alive days from now when the fighting eased long enough for a new bet to be made and won?
Briefing finished, Fulton advised them all to “try and get a little sleep.” But this proved advice he could not personally follow. Anticipatory adrenaline was starting to flow through his body, rendering the small cabin uncomfortably close. So he wandered up to the bridge and stared into the eerie darkness. It was a dirty night, with the seas tossed about by the trailing end of the great storm that had forced the invasion’s postponement the previous night and for a time even threatened its cancellation.
