by Mark Zuehlke
Corporal Dan Hartigan and the rest of his platoon were ready to go ninety minutes later, so they killed the remaining time by smoking and trying to guess where they might be heading. At the parade ground, the men were issued ammunition, had their gear inspected, and then were loaded into transport trucks. As the long convoy wound its way across the English countryside, Hartigan’s platoon passed the hours playing craps on a blanket one of the quartermasters had thoughtfully tossed in the back of the truck for use as a rolling mat. Eventually, the trucks passed through a gate and entered a tent encampment in a large field encircled by a single strand of waist-height barbed wire.
As the men climbed down from the trucks, a sergeant bellowed into a megaphone: “You are now in a place called a security transit camp. Here you are going to learn the best kept secrets in the world. Anyone who places a foot beyond that single strand of barbed wire will be shot without being challenged. Your best bet is not to go within a hundred feet of it,” he warned.25
The paratroops assembled on the parade ground before a makeshift stage that Bradbrooke and his headquarters staff mounted a few minutes later. With a flourish, the lieutenant colonel pulled a canvas cover off a large map showing the south England coast and the French coast, with the English Channel in between. Bradbrooke confirmed that the paratroops would soon be leading the invasion forces into France and said he would tell them more that evening.26
During the evening briefing, Bradbrooke gave a general outline of the invasion plan. On the western flank, General Omar N. Bradley’s First United States Army would establish a beachhead on Cotentin’s east shore near the city of Varreville and another between the Drôme and Vire rivers. Meanwhile, on the eastern flank, General Miles Dempsey’s Second British Army would seize a long beachhead extending east from Port-en-Bessin to Cabourg at the mouth of the Dives River. This beachhead would be expanded inland on the first day to encompass the cities of Bayeux and Caen.
In the American sector, 4th Infantry Division would establish the beachhead on the Cotentin Peninsula with a landing on a sheltered beach codenamed Utah, while 1st Infantry Division, reinforced by the 116th Regiment of 29th Infantry Division, set down in front of the town of St. Laurent-sur-Mer on Omaha. In the centre of the whole front, the British 50th Division would land immediately east of Arromanches on Gold Beach and drive inland to Bayeux, linking up with the Americans en route. East of the 50th Division, the 3rd Canadian Infantry Division and 2nd Canadian Armoured Brigade would attack Juno Beach, and on their left, the British 3rd Division would strike Sword Beach at Lion-sur-Mer and break through to Caen by the afternoon. The flanks of the invasion force would be secured by airborne landings, with the U.S. 82nd and 101st Airborne Divisions dropping at the base of the Cotentin Peninsula to isolate Cherbourg, while the 6th British Airborne dropped east of the Orne River and seized crossings over the Caen Canal.27
The battalion intelligence officer Lieutenant R.D.J. Weathersbee added that 6th Airborne’s specific tasks would be to capture several bridges and hold them until relieved, while destroying several others to deny their use to the enemy. Wrecking parties would also knock out several communication installations, German strongpoints, and some coastal gun batteries that could threaten Sword Beach.28
It was 3rd British Parachute Brigade’s job to block several possible routes that German counterattacking forces could use to reach the beaches from the east. Six bridges crossing Dives and its tributary, Divette, would have to be blown and blocking forces set up on several roads. The brigade was also responsible for destroying a coastal battery at Merville on the mouth of the Orne River.
Knocking out the Merville battery and denying the Germans use of the roads north of it fell to 9th Parachute Battalion, while 8th Parachute Battalion would blow all bridges in the southeast part of the sector. First Canadian Parachute Battalion would meanwhile operate in a roughly triangular area marked at its apexes by the villages of Robehomme, Varaville, and le Mesnil. Inside this zone, they were to destroy a bridge and an enemy headquarters at Varaville, another bridge at Robehomme that crossed a wide ditch, protect 9th Battalion’s attack on the Merville battery from any Germans moving in from the south, and seize and hold a vital road junction. Le Mesnil crossroads, as this road junction was known, stood on top of the narrow le Plein–Bois de Bavent ridge, a 180-foot-high strategic feature that separated the Orne and Dives valleys. Securing the thickly wooded ridge would prevent its use as a German observation post. The same height advantage had led Brigadier Hill to select the crossroads on the ridge for his brigade command post.
‘C’ Company would jump ahead of the rest of the battalion, secure the drop zone, and then carry out the attack on Varaville. After destroying the Robehomme bridge, ‘B’ Company would establish a holding position in this area to check any German attempt to attack the airborne division from the east flank. ‘A’ Company, meanwhile, would cover 9th Battalion’s attack on the Merville battery and then move to seize le Mesnil crossroads.29 Weathersbee concluded by saying that specific details of these operations would be set out in company-level briefings and then further broken down by platoons and individual sections.
A smiling and unusually animated Bradbrooke wrapped up by saying, “You’re going to be surprised and happy when you learn all the things you are going to do on this operation. Believe me, there will be a part for every soldier here. Get a good night’s sleep and good luck!”30
[ 7 ]
To Die Gloriously
THROUGHOUT SOUTHERN ENGLAND, soldiers by the thousands were either moved to security compounds or awoke one morning to find their base transformed into a virtual concentration camp. Since April 5, the Regina Rifle Regiment had been in Hiltingbury Camp, Camp 7, Block C (C-7)—part of a great tent city that sprawled over most of Hiltingbury Common six miles north of Southampton. On May 25, American soldiers with orders to allow nobody in or out sealed the entire camp.
Only ten days earlier, the only people in 3rd Canadian Infantry Division who had known the precise location of the invasion had been a mere handful of Major General Rod Keller’s divisional staff officers. On May 15, however, the veil of secrecy had been lifted for the brigade and battalion commanders and their second-in-commands during a day-long briefing session held in the great dining hall of Cranbury House—the large estate housing Keller’s headquarters.1
Major John Clifford Cave, the Sherbrooke Fusilier Regiment’s thirty-six-year-old second-in-command, had never seen so much senior brass gathered in one place. The tobacco smoke–filled room was crammed almost to overflowing.2
First came a general appreciation of the overall invasion plan, with the division’s intelligence officer using a large map to detail the passage of the invasion fleet from England to the five beaches in Normandy. Then a new map was undraped that showed Juno Beach and the inland countryside. The beach was a five-mile strip of low, flat sandy coastline running from the seaside resort of St. Aubin-sur-Mer in the east to the Château Vaux about a mile west of the mouth of the River Seulles. Fronting the beach were the villages of Bernièressur-Mer about two and a half miles west of St. Aubin-sur-Mer and the small fishing port of Courseulles-sur-Mer on the eastern bank of the Seulles River. Tucked slightly inland on the western bank of the river was the hamlet Graye-sur-Mer. River Seulles widened just behind its mouth to create several basins that offered good shelter for fishing boats.3
In several places, a series of rocky ledges normally submerged during high tide extended as far as a mile out to sea. On the west bank of the Seulles, the beach at low tide was a half-mile deep and backed by a deep swath of ten-foot-high dunes. Between Courseulles and Bernières it was mostly sand broken by a few rocky outcrops. Both villages were well protected from storms by concrete seawalls the assault forces would have to breach.4
Next, Lieutenant Colonel Don Mingay took the stage to explain the operational plan. Two infantry brigades, each supported by an armoured regiment and two regiments of artillery, would comprise the assault wave. Tanks and inf
antry would hit the beach together, with the artillery providing covering fire. The Royal Winnipeg Rifles strengthened by a Canadian Scottish Regiment company would land west of the River Seulles, while the Regina Rifles touched down in front of Courseulles. The rest of the Canadian Scottish Regiment would form 7th Canadian Infantry Brigade’s reserve. Supporting these landings would be the 1st Hussars Armoured Regiment and the 12th and 13th artillery regiments. On the left, 8th Canadian Infantry Brigade would put the Queen’s Own Rifles on the beach in front of Bernières while the North Shore (New Brunswick) Regiment swept into the western outskirts of St. Aubin. The Fort Garry Horse would be in support along with the 14th and 19th artillery regiments—the latter seconded to the division from 2nd Army Group, Royal Canadian Artillery. In reserve here would be Le Régiment de la Chaudière.5
Immediately after the assault force secured the beach, Mingay explained, the reserve regiments would land. Then the two brigades would launch a four-phase drive inland. Phase I was simply to occupy Vaux, Graye-sur-Mer, Courseulles, Bernières, and St. Aubin. InPhase II, 7 CIB would secure crossings over the River Seulles and advance to Creully—a medieval castle town about six miles inland—while 8 CIB would take up a parallel position on a low ridge extending north to south from the village of Basly through Anguerny to Anisy. These were the division’s intermediate objectives for the day. ForPhase III, 9th Canadian Infantry Brigade, having landed while the two leading brigades pushed inland, would pass through 8 CIB and seize the villages of Authie, Ardenne, Carpiquet, and the strategically vital Carpiquet airport. Simultaneously on the right, 7 CIB would wheel to the southeast from Creully to occupy the ground between Putot-enBessin, Bretteville-l’Orgueilleuse, and Norrey-en-Bessin. This would put the two leading brigades astride the Caen-Bayeux Road—Objective Oak—by evening. Phase IV was simply to reorganize here and dig in.6
Because of a significant gap on the left flank between the Canadians and the British division on Sword Beach, No. 48 (Royal Marine) Commando was placed under Keller’s command. Its four hundred-strong force of five fighting troops and one heavy weapons troop armed with mortars and medium machine-guns would land on the division’s eastern boundary and capture Langrune-sur-Mer while another commando unit drove over from Sword to link up with No. 48.7
Opposing the Juno Beach landing would be the 716th Infantry Division’s 736th Grenadier Regiment, most specifically its 2nd Battalion beefed up by elements of the 441st East Battalion (comprised of eastern European conscripts and volunteers). The intelligence officer described the 716th as “a low category division of two regiments of infantry and one regiment of artillery [equipped with] two field and one medium battery. All personnel are trained in coast defence although the better trained have been transferred to field divisions. The remainder consists of young soldiers, men of older classes unfit for service on the Eastern Front and men who have been wounded and are only slightly disabled. In comparison with a first class field infantry division its fighting value has been assessed as 40 per cent in a static role and 15 per cent in a counterattack. The division should be up to strength in personnel (13,000) and equipment, and is probably over-strength as it has been reported that non-German soldiers, Russians, Mongols, etc. have been seen in the divisional area.”8
Although the opposing regiment was considered of poor material, it was dug in behind a maze of beach obstacles and enjoyed excellent fields of interlocking fire from a complex of fortified strongpoints. These strongpoints consisted of concrete pillboxes with adjacent open machine-gun pits. In key points, 75-millimetre guns had been positioned inside casemates or open emplacements to add to the direct defensive fire. All obvious routes by which infantry and tanks could move off inland from the beach were covered by at least one strong-point, and all the strongpoints were well protected by minefields and barbed wire entanglements.
Reconnaissance photos had identified at least nine strongpoints on Juno Beach, with two particularly formidable positions on either side of the river mouth by Courseulles and one each at Bernières and St. Aubin. Ranging between two thousand and three thousand yards back of these, the reconnaissance photos showed that the Germans were well along in construction of a system of dugouts thought to contain heavy mortars and machine guns. Although some positions had been identified, intelligence staff had only a slight idea of the number of German artillery batteries deployed well back of the beach that could be brought to bear on the landing force. Most of these were 75-millimetre batteries, but at least a few 88-millimetre guns had been detected. There was also a battery of four 105-millimetre guns within direct fire range of the beach.
Once the strongpoints were overwhelmed, the 716th Division was expected to pose little further threat to the landings, but in short order the Canadians could face counterattacks by two armoured divisions positioned within easy striking distance of Juno Beach. The 21st Panzer Division, under Generalleutnant Edgar Feuchtinger, was just eight hours away in the area of Falaise. Almost wiped out in Tunisia at the end of the African campaign, this division had been rebuilt with young and well-trained soldiers. Farther east, near the Seine estuary, the 12th SS Panzer (Hitlerjugend) Division was comprised of untested but fanatical Hitler Youth. Its officers and non-commissioned officers, however, were all veterans and many had seen service on the Eastern Front. The 12th SS could easily be on the scene the day after D-Day (D+1).9
The briefing ended with discussion of a subject that had been worrying everyone in the room—estimates of probable casualties. They were told that 21st Army Group Headquarters predicted that 9,250 of the 70,000 British and Canadian soldiers landing on D-Day would be dead, wounded, or missing by day’s end. Of these, 3,000 were expected to have drowned. The Canadian forces, including 1st Canadian Parachute Battalion, landing on D-Day would total about 15,000. By simple averaging, Canadian casualties were expected to tally 1,982 men, almost 15 per cent of the landing force lost in a single day.10
It was a sobering thought and one that Mingay again explained a few days later to a group of about thirty Canadian journalists who would accompany the division to Normandy. Mingay walked the reporters through the same thorough brief that had been given to the officers, including illustrating the operation on a series of highly detailed maps. When Mingay told the reporters of the estimated casualty projections, the room grew quite still. Then Montreal Gazette correspondent Lionel Shapiro stood and asked Mingay “what plans had been made to withdraw if the landing was unsuccessful?” Mingay, who was sitting on the edge of a desk at this point of the briefing, responded: “There are no plans for withdrawal. If it fails the Allied cause will be in real jeopardy.” Shapiro was incensed, accusing Mingay and the entire Allied planning staff of being “stupid, incompetent.” Mingay sharply retorted that they “were taking no chances that anyone in the organization would even contemplate anything but success.” The invasion force either succeeded or died on the sand.11
THAT THE ENGLISH CHANNEL might be running red with blood as the assault ended in failure was a distinct possibility. And even if it succeeded, the likelihood of personal survival was by no means guaranteed, as soldiers, sailors, and airmen alike learned when the bleak casualty projections were revealed during ensuing briefings. During several brigade and battalion level briefings, Captain Peter Simonds of the Royal Canadian Corps of Signals noted the general reaction. “Some,” he later wrote, “remembered that the estimated 500 casualties for Dieppe had run to about seven times that figure and decided, on this basis, that they had just about ‘had it.’” Yet they seemed strangely unfazed. Simonds was “downright alarmed as well as forced into admiration at the carefree, relaxed manner with which they approached their ordeal. Frankly, I would have liked to have seen this splendid cross-section of young Canadian manhood outwardly place a higher value on their own useful lives and well-being.”12
When Major Roger Rowley briefed the Cameron Highlanders of Ottawa, which, as the division’s heavy weapons battalion, would be landing in scattered units alongside the rest of t
he division’s battalions, Simonds was taken aback by the man’s casual dismissal of their chances. Rowley reminded Simonds of Errol Flynn, both in his appearance and cavalier style. “You might as well face the facts, men,” Rowley said, “that you stand a good chance of being killed. So what? It’s a damned sight better to die gloriously writing one of the greatest pages in history than to die twenty years hence lying in a drunken stupor in a gutter with the rats eating off your red nose.” Expecting outrage at such flippancy, Simonds was surprised when the men instead “burst into a gale of appreciative laughter. They felt just like [Rowley] about the whole affair—they were in it to the finish, come what may. Nowhere else have I seen anything approaching the devil-may-care exuberant morale and spirits I encountered… with the 3rd Canadian Infantry Division.”13
Not everyone appreciated the manner in which briefing officers warned of a possible slaughter. In late May, a Royal Navy Commander briefed the 31st Canadian Minesweeping Flotilla’s ship captains aboard HMCSCaraquet. Lieutenant Commander James Green, captain of Wasaga, was deeply disturbed by the man’s cold-blooded manner. First, he dismayed the captains with the news that, instead of clearing the invasion route for Force J’s crossing to Juno Beach, the Canadian flotilla was now to sweep the lanes ahead of the American force sailing to Omaha Beach.
He followed up this bad news by saying that the minesweepers leading the way into the beaches were particularly vulnerable to being crippled by shore battery fire and could expect heavy losses among their crews or even the disabling of their ships. In the latter event, he warned, the damaged vessel would immediately be blown out of the water so it would not get in the way of the landing craft carrying troops and equipment to the beaches.
