Juno Beach

by Mark Zuehlke

  As these events were playing out, the Allies realized the situation was so improved that an invasion of northwest Europe might be possible in the spring of 1944. The Combined Chiefs of Staff appointed British Lieutenant General Frederick E. Morgan to the position of Chief of Staff to the Supreme Allied Commander (COSSAC) and assigned him the duty of planning “a full scale assault against the continent in 1944 as early as possible.”9

  The rancorous Trident conference in May 1943, held in Washington, had seen the British and Americans sharply divided over the amount of resources and personnel that should be allocated to Sicily and following Italian campaigns. The Americans were as keen to limit these to mere holding actions as the British were to decisively drive Italy out of the war and develop Churchill’s soft-underbelly strategy to break into central Europe. An uneasy compromise was reached whereby operations would be more vigorous in the Mediterranean than the Americans liked, while a cross-channel invasion was to be launched on May 1, 1944.

  This invasion would be an all-out effort involving five infantry divisions in the first assault, two more quickly following, two airborne divisions landing inland of the invasion site, and twenty more divisions subsequently moving into the beachhead to undertake offensive operations to rapidly expand the lodgement. Even before the conference wrapped up, however, planners cautioned that there were not enough landing craft to make a five-division operation feasible. The plan was quickly altered so that the British would provide two assault divisions and one follow-on division and the Americans one assault division and one follow-on division.

  Decisions made, the conference adjourned and Morgan got down to work. Under his direction, an integrated Anglo-American staff of officers drawn from all three services set about developing the specific invasion plan, codenamed Operation Overlord. Among these officers was Canadian Major R.A. Harris, who served as Morgan’s Military Assistant.10 Also stationed in Morgan’s headquarters was a Canadian liaison officer, Major General G.R. Turner, whose primary responsibility was to keep First Canadian Army commander Lieutenant General Andrew McNaughton abreast of planning details. McNaughton was to be kept in the know not because he was the commander of First Canadian Army, but rather because he was also “the accredited military representative of the Canadian Government in the U.K.” Turner’s presence was not welcomed by the British Chiefs of Staff, but Morgan told his staff—British and American—that there was a “tacitly conceded” agreement to keep the Canadians informed of the developing invasion plan.11

  On July 3, 1943, McNaughton was able to summon Lieutenant General Harry Crerar, then commanding I Canadian Corps, to inform him that 3rd Canadian Infantry Division would begin assault training in preparation for a possible role in the cross-channel invasion. Crerar’s corps headquarters was to have responsibility for the division’s “training and operations.”12

  Less than four months later, however, due partly to Crerar’s persistent lobbying, I Canadian Corps was ordered to join the Eighth Army in Italy. This ended McNaughton’s hopes of keeping the Canadian army overseas together as a cohesive force that would play a significant role in the invasion. Instead, on November 12, 1943, 3rd Canadian Infantry Division with 2nd Canadian Armoured Brigade attached came under command of the 1st British Corps “for operational direction and the training related thereto for the purpose of Operation Overlord.”13

  Meanwhile, plans for Overlord had been firming up quickly since the conclusion of the Washington conference. On July 15, 1943, Morgan had submitted his invasion plan to the British Chiefs of Staff and summarized it in a ten-point covering letter. First, he reiterated the task assigned and set out the primary challenges that must be overcome. The most critical of these was the need to rapidly “improvise sheltered anchorages off the beaches” through which reinforcements and supplies could flow to enable the beachhead’s expansion. Of equal concern was the lack of sufficient and suitable craft. Increased production and reallotment of such craft from other theatres would be required. Furthermore, it might be necessary to postpone the date of the assault to allow the assembling of a suitably large flotilla.

  A May 1 invasion, Morgan wrote, could be launched “only if we concentrate our efforts on an assault across the Norman beaches about Bayeux.” It was here—midway between the two French ports of Cherbourg on the Cotentin Peninsula and le Havre at the mouth of the Seine River—that Morgan believed the Germans were least prepared to repel an invasion.

  Finally, Morgan cautioned his superiors not to be lulled into over-optimism by the success of the Sicily landing that had occurred just five days earlier. The two operations, he said, “could hardly be more dissimilar. In Husky [codename for the Sicily invasion], the bases of an extended continental coastline were used for a converging assault against an island, whereas in Overlord it is necessary to launch an assault from an island against an extended continental mainland coastline. Furthermore, while in the Mediterranean the tidal range is negligible and the weather reasonably reliable, in the English Channel the tidal range is considerable and the weather capricious.”14

  THE BRITISH CHIEFS OF STAFF accepted the plan in principle and passed it forward for discussion by the Combined Chiefs of Staff at the Quadrant Conference in Quebec City on August 14, who granted approval the following day. It was recognized that a supreme commander must be appointed to oversee Overlord, but no decision was reached during the conference on who should fill such a post. The Americans did accept, however, British recommendations that Air Chief Marshal Sir Arthur Tedder be named Deputy Supreme Commander, that the naval commander should be Admiral Sir Charles Little, RN (soon replaced by Admiral Sir Bertram Ramsay, RN), and that Air Marshal Sir Trafford Leigh-Mallory, Fighter Command, RAF, should be air commander.

  Recognizing that in the long haul the northwest Europe campaign would see more American than Commonwealth divisions employed, Churchill suggested that Roosevelt name an American to the supreme commander post. Roosevelt could not offer an immediate recommendation and would not do so until Christmas Eve, when he appointed General Dwight D. Eisenhower, then serving as Supreme Allied Commander, Mediterranean Theatre. During the course of the Sicily and Italian campaigns, Eisenhower had shown a talent for keeping a variety of prickly-natured subordinate officers at the army and corps levels working together despite differing nationalities and personalities.15

  Eisenhower did not, however, get everything his way. When he proposed that General Sir Harold Alexander command the British Army Group, the British War Cabinet rebuffed this notion. Instead, they appointed Eighth Army commander General Sir Bernard Mont-gomery—precisely the man Eisenhower had hoped to prevent getting the appointment. The American general considered Montgomery abrasive, cocky to the point of conceit, and impossible to control. Because the British Army Group Commander also served as the operational chief of the landings, Eisenhower found the War Cabinet’s decision difficult to swallow because Montgomery would have overall control over the invasion plan and its prosecution.16

  During the Quebec conference, Churchill had been concerned that Morgan’s proposal for Overlord was based on too limited an allocation of assault forces. He recommended that “every effort should be made to add at least 25 percent strength to the initial assault.”17

  Eisenhower was inclined to agree and Montgomery also didn’t like the sounds of the plan. Arriving in London on January 3, 1944, Montgomery told Admiral Ramsay “that the assaults were not being made on a wide enough front, or with a sufficiency of force, and that it was necessary to extend them, both to introduce a greater number of formations on D-Day and also to accelerate the capture of Cherbourg.”18

  Montgomery set out a new landing scheme on February 1. Operation Neptune, as the naval and amphibious assault phase of the invasion was now designated, divided the landing sites between two armies. The Second British Army would go in on the left, with the First United States Army landing on the right. In the first assault, five British infantry brigades and three U.S. regimental combat teams would h
it the beach. These units would be under the direction of five different divisions. Additionally, two airborne divisions would be dropped on the American flank during the night preceding the seaborne landings and another on the British flank. Here, the British 6th Airborne Division would carry out the airborne drop. This division’s 3rd Parachute Brigade Group included the 1st Canadian Parachute Battalion. One of the British divisions engaged in the amphibious landing would be the 3rd Canadian Infantry Division. Because the addition of troops to the initial assault would require many more landing craft than currently available, the date for the invasion was pushed back to June 1, 1944.19

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  The Web-Footed Division

  ON JULY 3, 1943, Lieutenant General Andrew McNaughton had informed 3rd Canadian Infantry Division’s Major General Rod Keller that his command might lead the invasion onto one of the beaches. Keller had been promoted to divisional command on September 8, 1942, after fourteen months at the head of 1st Canadian Infantry Brigade. Major General George R. Pearkes and Lieutenant General Harry Crerar both thought he stood out from the small pack of senior Canadian officers to be considered. Pearkes praised Keller’s abilities as a disciplinarian and trainer and described him as “young and energetic… a forceful leader whose judgement can be relied upon.”1 On August 23, 1943, Crerar wrote that he considered Keller “in all respects, fit to command a division in the field. He has had considerable experience as GSO 1 [General Staff Officer Grade 1] of a division and is now commanding a brigade very successfully. He has strong military knowledge well above the average, and strong personality. He is young and energetic. I recommend him first in priority to command a division.”2

  Born on October 2, 1900, Keller was just shy of forty-two when his promotion to major general was approved. This made him the youngest Canadian to hold the rank. Although not quite five-foot-eleven and just over 170 pounds, his ramrod-straight bearing gave the impression that he was taller and more muscular than was actually the case. Born in England but raised in Kelowna, British Columbia, Keller was passionate about swimming, hunting, and fishing. At an early age he had impressed adults and contemporaries alike with what seemed a natural military bearing. One childhood chum later told newspaper reporters that had his parents not called him Rod the contraction would certainly have been applied by his friends. “He always was straight as a stick,” the friend said, “a born soldier.”3

  At seventeen, Keller fittingly enrolled in The Royal Military College of Canada. While he proved a marginal student academically, Keller impressed instructors with his strength of character and moral uprightness. It was these attributes that led to repeated declarations that he had the “makings of a fine officer.”4 In Keller’s Christmas 1919 report, rmc Commandant Archibald Cameron Macdonell declared him of excellent character and a fine cadet. Macdonell did, however, “want him to be a little more cheery” and advised his parents to “tell him to smile under all circumstances.”5

  After graduating on June 24, 1920, Keller reported as a lieutenant in the Permanent Active Militia for duty in the Princess Patricia’s Canadian Light Infantry stationed in Winnipeg. Despite the withered state of the peacetime Permanent Force, Keller’s service with the PPCLI and on various military district staffs resulted in his selection to attend the prestigious British Staff College at Camberley in 1936. Attending either Camberley or the other British Staff College at Quetta virtually ensured a fast promotional track. Of the sixty-three Canadians to attend either college between 1919 and 1939, thirty-six ultimately reached brigade rank or higher.6

  Now, having outstripped most of these men by gaining the coveted rank of major general, Keller seemed poised for an enviable military career. His Deputy Adjutant and Quartermaster General, Lieutenant Colonel Ernest Côté, considered Keller a “conventional tactician,” but “very much a spit and polish officer who cut quite a figure in his battledress. We always kept a spare uniform for him, ironed and ready to go just in case.” This degree of attention to appearances was equally reflected in his insistence that the division itself be well turned out. “He cared for his division and was sensitive to any slight on its reputation. He was a very proud man and always on top of the division’s training.”7

  Underneath the polished facade lurked a troubled soul, which appearances occasionally hinted at. There was the fact that his round, perpetually ruby red face turned vivid purple when he became angered. And the raspy voice that could, again when angered, rip a man to shreds with scathingly brutal disapproval. Keller was seldom angry, however. More often than not he was cheerfully gregarious in the divisional officer’s mess, not expecting to be deferred to and seeming to relish entertaining his officers with humorous stories that left them all laughing with genuine pleasure. But Keller’s popularity as a raconteur could not hide from his staff officers the fact that he drank more than was common in an army much given to consumption of alcohol. A bottle of whisky a day was rumoured. And yet Keller was never seen to be drunk.8

  Word of Keller’s possible heavy drinking had reached Crerar even before he recommended the officer for divisional command. When Crerar confronted Keller directly about the matter, he was assured that the drinking was never overindulgent. Crerar accepted the officer’s assurances without further remark.9

  Not long after Keller’s promotion, Captain Harold Bertrand Gonder of the Cameron Highlanders of Ottawa was appointed to be his aide-de-camp. Gonder had been born to missionary parents in China on May 19, 1909. He was sixteen when his family returned to Ottawa and, after spending one year in school, Gonder, like so many young men in the midst of the Great Depression, began drifting from job to job. He rode the freights from Toronto to Halifax and back to Ottawa, where he finally landed a position as a furrier. Bored by his work, he joined the Camerons as a militiaman on September 2, 1939. Eight days later, Canada was at war and Gonder quickly found himself promoted to the rank of sergeant. Two years after his enlistment, Gonder was sent to officer’s training and soon after his return to the Camerons as a newly minted officer was appointed Keller’s ADC. His job was to be Keller’s shadow, ready to undertake any task.

  Gonder came to respect the major general both as a man and an officer. Aware of the heavy drinking, he also noted its lack of effect on Keller’s behaviour or appearance. The two spent many hours together travelling in staff cars from one meeting to another or to conduct troop inspections of the division’s various brigades and battalions. Keller was a keen believer in the merits of formal inspections, considering that a well-turned-out regiment evidenced an intrinsic pride that would help it triumph on the battlefield. Before each inspection began, Gonder, drawing on his sergeant’s experience, hastened down the lines of men while Keller engaged in pre-inspection formalities with the officers. He would encourage the soldier who was nervous of meeting the general, adjust the uniform of the mildly slovenly, and do his best to ensure Keller would be satisfied.

  Normally during their journeys, the two men sat in the back of the car and enjoyed an amiable silence. Keller seemed to use this rare time of relative privacy, free of the ceaseless interruptions that typified the course of a divisional commander’s day, for reflection. He would smoke his pipe with a thoughtful expression on his face. Gonder presumed that it was here the major general drafted many divisional training schemes and thought ahead to the division’s amphibious assault. Upon arriving back at divisional headquarters, Keller would often proceed directly to his office and spend the next few hours locked away while he turned thoughts into orders or notes for discussion with his staff. Occasionally during their motorized rambles, Keller would become expansively conversational and engage Gonder in discussions that ranged far beyond military matters. But never did he speak of family or personal issues. His wife and two children were never mentioned. Nor did he ask Gonder a personal question.

  Soon after becoming Keller’s ADC, Gonder noticed that the man had one unusual eccentricity. Whenever a magpie crossed his path, Keller paused midstep, doffed his cap or beret, and
then solemnly bowed to the bird. Should there be three birds, he bowed to each in turn. After witnessing this ritual repeatedly, Gonder worked up the nerve to ask its reason. “It’s an old habit that we used to have, my father and I, in the Okanagan,” Keller said. “My father always did that. He used to say that one was for sorrow, two for joy, three’s a girl, and four’s a boy.” Understanding the roots of this oddity made Gonder think of the major general less as a stiff and soulless officer than as someone with a very human personality.

  And then there came the night that Keller visited his old friend Brigadier Harry Foster, who was soon to take a short leave from 7th Canadian Infantry Brigade to command the Canadian forces involved in the recapture of Kiska Island off Alaska from Japanese forces. This was no formal visit, so Gonder remained outside Foster’s office to allow the senior officers to talk without inhibition. Finally, just after midnight, the door opened and Keller emerged. Gonder was shocked to see that both Keller and the brigadier were unsteady on their feet. He hastened to Keller’s side and stayed with him as they walked slowly and with exaggerated care to the staff car. Gonder noted that several officers and men, returning from evening passes in town, were going past and he could sense their eyes falling on them.

  As soon as they were in the car and it had exited the base gates, Keller said in the most vicious tone Gonder had ever heard from him: “Captain Gonder, report to me in my quarters at 0715 hours this morning.” Until then, he had always called Gonder by his first name. Worried about what sin he had committed, Gonder reported precisely at the prescribed time. Keller stood behind his desk, uniform immaculately pressed, showing no sign of effect from the night’s drinking. “I cannot bear to have any of my men see me while I am inebriated,” he growled. “You permitted that to happen last night. I will not tolerate it. Never allow me to get in that condition again. If ever you suspect that I’m on my way to losing my control and my dignity and the appearance that every commander should have, I want you to come up to me and say, ‘Sir, I think it’s time to go home.’ And you will find that I won’t argue and I will thank you and I will come.”