The battle for antwerp, p.15
The Battle for Antwerp, page 15
August 1944
My Dear Son
Susan and I have not heard from you for some time. I daresay our letters are somewhere in France. I know what you have been up to thanks to Susan. You are just like your father! You are never content to sit back! At least you will receive an uncensored letter. I hate the blue lines. It feels as though someone has been going through your things! Susan has told me that you will be re-joining your battalion soon and so I intend to give this to someone you trust.
Your father has been sent to the far east. My two boys are both far from me. I know the newspapers are full of headlines about the war ending but I remember how many died in the Great War after they said that. Keep your head down! Until they sign some sort of peace treaty then young men will continue to die.
Mary is still a ferry pilot and she seems to enjoy it. She has spoken of continuing flying after the war is over. I would rather she would do as you have done and find someone nice to spend the rest of her days with!
Susan and I meet up once a week for tea and a chat. We are making plans. Don’t roll your eyes! I can’t see you but I know that is what you are doing. Your dad was the same. You might as well resign yourself to the fact that we are going to organize your life from the moment this war ends and there is nothing you can do about it!
Life is not getting any easier at home. The rations we have are now spread even further. It will take some time for this great country of ours to get back on its feet but with men like you and your Commandos we can make it great again. I know I am wasting ink and breath but try to keep your head down. Survive this war! We need you.
All my love,
Your Mother xxx
I carefully folded the letter and replaced it in the envelope. When things looked hopeless I would open it and read it. Mum was like a rock. When Dad had been swanning off around the world and Mary and I had been growing up it had been Mum who held everything together. She was a reassuring certainty in a world of uncertainty.
I sniffed the envelope of Susan’s letter before I opened it. There was still the faintest aroma of her perfume. I used my dagger to slit it open. When I opened the letter a lock of her hair fell from it. I carefully laid it on the bed.
London August 1944
My Dearest Tom,
Your mother and I are concerned that you have not replied to our letters. I know that they are probably still following you all over but, as I have discovered that you will be re-joining your unit your mother has said she will give the letters to someone called Daddy Grant. This feels deliciously naughty. I can write an uncensored letter. Your mother says that we can trust this Daddy as he served with you. I envy you the loyalty of your men. I like the girls I work with but I do not think they would rally round like your men do.
Your exploits have kept me awake at night. You are not named but when I read a report or hear a radio transmission about the special Commandos then I know it is you. Major Foster’s reports are a big clue where you are. Do be careful!
Your mum is a force of nature. She is planning our wedding and where we will live! I visited your house for a weekend in June when I was given a leave after the landings. You have a lovely home and she has been redecorating your old bedroom. I am sorry, Tom, but you will not find the bedroom you grew up in when you return. It is now a grown up bedroom. Beattie says that we can live there until you decide what you want to do and where you want to live. She is so practical. You are lucky in both your parents.
I could write more but your mum is waiting to take the train down to your old camp.
I have put a lock of my hair in the letter. I hope it reminds you of me. I would hate for you to forget me. I don’t want your head turned by these French girls you must be meeting.
Keep your head down and I love you, now and always,
Susan xxx
Anna’s kiss suddenly made me feel guilty. I read and reread that until I heard Sergeant Poulson shout, “Mess!”
I put the letter back in the envelope and smartened myself up. It would not do to meet my brother officers looking scruffy. I knew that I needed a haircut and a decent shave. They would have to wait until the morning.
My men were waiting for me outside my tent. “Thought we could go in together, sir. They have a Sergeants’ Mess and Officers’ Mess in one tent.”
“Thank you, Sergeant Poulson.”
We marched to the mess tents. The reading of the letters had made us late. Our appearance made conversation stop as we walked into the joint mess. The Colonel waved me over. The sergeants had to queue but we had orderlies to serve us.
“Here you are Captain, we saved a seat for you here between Major Boucher-Myers and Lieutenant Gregson. The young lieutenant is keen to talk to you.” I nodded to the other officers as I sat down. I realised that I did not recognise a single face. The deaths, wounds, promotions and transfers had taken all the officers I knew away. I felt like the new boy at school. I had experienced that many times when growing up with a father who was moved from airfield to airfield. The colonel continued, “Captain Harsker has just returned from Flushing. The day after tomorrow he will be training officer and put you all through your paces. We may well have a sea wall to ascend under fire!”
Major Boucher-Myers said, “I have heard good things about you. I spent some time working with Major Foster in the planning for D-Day. He speaks highly of you.”
“He’s a good chap. He is up north working on this next operation. We are in good hands.”
“And I hear you were in the 1st Loyal Lancashires?”
“I was.”
“I was in the East Lancashires. Small world eh?”
“It certainly is, Major.”
The Major smiled, “The name is Bill. Can’t be bothered with titles here in the mess. I dare say we will get the chance to chat but young Gregson there is about to burst out of his battle dress.”
I turned to the eager young man. The thin pencil moustache told me that he was desperately trying to look older. “Pleased to meet you, Lieutenant, but don’t believe all the stories you hear. My life has been duller than you think.”
“It’s John sir, and you are wrong. You have a V.C. and an M.C. I heard you are in for a bar too!”
“Winning medals is a lottery, John. I know many men who deserved those honours more than I. So tell me, have you been in the Commandos long?”
“I qualified in January, sir. I just missed you when you went to Normandy. I was at Ringway doing parachute training. You have jumped haven’t you?”
“Yes, a couple of times. The Dakotas are better than the old Whitleys we used to use. You just dropped out of the bomb doors in those! We had more Roman candles than I care to remember.”
“I thought about joining the paratroopers but my uncle is in the Commandos and I followed him. I was named after him. John Marsden.”
“John? How is he? We served together before St. Nazaire.”
“I know sir. He is a Major now and in the far east with Number One Commando.”
“Did you not want a transfer to his unit?”
“I wanted to be in action as soon as possible sir. It takes weeks to get to the Far East. I don’t want to miss out on the next battle. I hoped to be in on D-Day but I just missed it. I hear that Bréville was a hard fought battle.”
“It was.” The food had arrived and I leaned back to allow the orderlies to serve us. There was beer or wine and I chose the wine. I turned to Lieutenant Gregson. “Every battle is hard fought, John. The Germans are tough. When we go to Flushing they will hang on to what they have. You to have to be clever, fitter and deadlier than the men you fight.”
“I know sir.”
“How are the men you lead?”
“All good chaps.”
“Your sergeant?”
“Young and keen sir, like all of them.”
“Your job, John, is to use that keenness and not abuse it. Weigh up the value of your men’s lives against the objective. Sometimes there are ways around problems. Commandos are thinkers. Use your mind more often than you use your gun and you will go far. More importantly you will have more chance of surviving this war.”
I was questioned about Flushing by the Major and the other officers. I pulled no punches and told them of the difficulties we might encounter.
My men enjoyed their meal in the mess and as I lay in my cot, reading the letters again I heard them coming back to their tents. They had not been drinking but had been in high spirits having been talking to the other Commandos. They were singing.
Bless 'em all,
Bless 'em all.
The long and the short and the tall,
Bless all those Sergeants and WO1's,
Bless all those Corporals and their bleedin' sons,
Cos' we're saying goodbye to 'em all.
And back to their Billets they crawl,
You'll get no promotion this side of the ocean,
So cheer up my lads bless 'em all
Suddenly Reg Dean’s voice rent the night, “And if you don’t shut up now the lot of you will be on Jankers from now until hell freezes over!”
There was silence. Reg Dean had spoken.
Chapter 12
Ostend and the surrounding land were fairly flat and I despaired of finding a sea wall that we could use. I was lucky. The Germans were still holding out in Dunkirk and the coast road south was closed. On the Zee Dijk, not far from the bombed out airfield, I found a high dyke which would suit perfectly. It matched the one at Flushing. Although not as steep it would allow the men to land from the sea and try to scale the steep wall. The beach we would be using in Flushing, code named Uncle Beach, was close to the breakwater. This was as close as we could find. We would be able to use the dunes above the road and the abandoned German defences. It was perfect. I left my men to prepare the defences and then Emerson and I went back to the camp.
The Colonel was not in his tent. “He has gone to Ghent, sir, for a meeting.” Reg waved me over, “And to hear news, sir. I had it from one of the radio operators that the paras have gone in. It happened a few days ago apparently. Eindhoven, Nijmegen and Arnhem are all being attacked! The bloke I spoke to said that the war could be over by Christmas. If they take those bridges then we are across the Rhine and we will soon be in Berlin.”
He sounded so excited and I hated to prick his bubble but I had to, “Reg can you think of any operation which has gone smoothly enough for us to reach all of our objectives? We were supposed to be in Caen a day after we landed; it took weeks. I think it a bold strategy and it might work but I am sceptical.”
He nodded, “You might well be right. I think I just wanted it to be over.”
“And I think that is true of all of us. Tell the Colonel, when he returns, that we have a suitable wall for them to train.” I stood and went to the map. I tapped the beach. “It is here. I would suggest using two landing craft at a time. We can have two in the morning and two in the afternoon. If we have four days we might get through them all.”
“Right sir.”
“Oh and tell him we are using live rounds.”
“Live rounds, sir?”
“He wanted real. We will give him real.”
“But remember Slapton Sands sir!”
Smiling I said, “The difference, Sergeant Major, is that it wasn’t Commandos firing at Slapton Sands. No one will get hurt. You have my word on that.”
After I left the tent I went to the lorry. “Head back to the lads and bring them back when they are finished making the defences.”
I headed for the Quartermaster’s stores. I had some more things to pick up. There was little point in training and being soft on the men. The Germans would not.
That evening the conversation was thankfully not, as on the previous night, about me, but the ambitious parachute drop by American, British and Polish paratroopers. The news had filtered through. Many were already talking about the attack as though it had been successful. All that we knew was that it had taken place in the third week of September. The news we had was three or four days old. The young officers like John Gregson were envious. The landings on D-Day had been small scale compared with this. I remained silent. Major Boucher-Myers said, “You are quiet Tom. Do you envy the paratroopers?”
Shaking my head I said, “I fought with them at Bréville and a finer force of soldiers I have yet to meet but when we chased the Germans from Falaise they saved a lot of their good armour. A great deal escaped from the pocket. They have Waffen SS and they are still in good shape. The paratroopers go in with even less heavy weapons than we do. Do you think they can stop a Mark IV let alone a Tiger or a Panther with a six pounder? That is assuming they land enough of them. Remember the Americans at St. Mere Église? They were spread over a huge area. Many of them landed in the town and were massacred. This sounds like an ambitious drop. I am no general but I might have tried just one bridge or perhaps two but a whole line of bridges is asking for trouble.”
John Gregson had been listening, “I thought you would have been all for this. I hear they have the Guards Armoured Division too.”
“When we went into Antwerp we were held up by Panzerschrecks and 88s. We met very few tanks. We were lucky when we managed to take one bridge but our luck ran out when we got close to a defended town.”
The Major said, shrewdly, “But you lost no men.”
“We had wounds but we were just the scouts. The Rifles and the 11th Armoured took casualties sir. A rocket makes a mess of a scout car sir and that is what the Guards will be using to check the road. Tanks need open country where they are not restricted. That is why we beat Jerry at Falaise. He had open country tanks and the bocage hemmed him in. The land they are crossing is covered in bridges. You block a bridge or you barricade a bridge and the advance stalls. Sometimes a quick fix doesn’t work.”
John Gregson had obviously done his homework, “Yes sir but this is precisely what the Germans did in 1940! They used the paratroopers to take the main centres.”
“German Paratroopers are the equal of ours. They were successful at Crete and in Holland. Those two actions wiped them out as a force. They have never been used since. The remnants are still in the Netherlands fighting as line troops. Is it really worth gambling the Red Devils in the hope of a quick victory?”
The Major laughed, “Well thank you for that bucket of cold water Captain!”
“With respect sir, I have been fighting the Germans since 1940. I would rather take it slower and guarantee winning than waste men’s lives as they did in the Great War in the hope of a win on the football pools! It might come off but the odds are stacked against it.”
I did not enjoy being so negative but I did not want my battalion to go into battle thinking that the war was almost over. We only won when we thought we were going to lose. The British are stubborn that way.
After we had messed I gathered my men in the back of the lorry and explained what we would do. When I had finished they seemed happy enough. “I have spoken with the Colonel before dinner and he said he would like it to be as realistic as possible. He is happy for us to use live ammunition. I have told him that we will be careful. Do not make a liar out of me. You are all good enough shots to miss just as you are to hit when we fire at Germans. The first two sections who attack tomorrow have been given carte blanche to choose their time and method of attack. We will be up at three and in position by three thirty.”
“You think they will try a sneak attack before dawn?”
“I do indeed. It is what I would do. They will try to catch us napping. There are two big boxes at the back of my tent. Put them on the lorry.”
“What are they sir?”
“Searchlights!”
The men were eager and we were in position by three fifteen. I had a German sub machine gun and my sniper rifle. I had plans to scare them just a little. Major Boucher-Myers and his sections would be the first to attack. Lieutenant Gregson was part of that force. I knew they were keen to outwit me. I hoped I was ready for the challenge.
I had my binoculars and was scanning the dark sea. The German defences had not needed much cleaning up. We would present a good target for the Commandos who would be landing. Shepherd and Beaumont had rigged up the thunder flashes which I hoped would replicate the shells and mortars the Germans would be using. Emerson and Fletcher were ready with the searchlights while Sergeants Poulson and Barker had the two flare pistols ready to light the night.
Alan Crowe said, “I can hear them sir.”
I used my glasses and scanned the sea again. I spotted them. They were two dark shapes and they were about a hundred yards from shore. They were using the Landing Craft Infantry (small) which held a hundred men each. I knew they only had eighty in each one. They did not use a ramp but had gangplanks which were launched by rollers over the deck. They were vulnerable on the beach. The beach itself was shallow. It was no more than thirty yards deep and then they had fifty feet of seawall over which they would have to scramble.
“Wait for it, wait for it! Emerson and Fletcher, now! Flares, now!”
The effect was spectacular. The pre-dawn light turned day as the two flares fell, lighting the sky, and the searchlights struck the boats. Three Commandos, standing on the bows ready to land, were so shaken that they fell into the water.
“Open fire!”
My men were looking forward to this and their bullets zipped over the heads of the two boats. I heard the officers shouting for their men to get off the boats as quickly as they could. Using the telescopic sight I aimed to the right of a stanchion on the right hand boat. Major Boucher-Myers was next to it. As the bullet pinged close to his head I saw him turn in shock. I fired four more bullets at the metal parts of the landing craft. As the men jumped in the water and prepared to race across the beach I shouted, “Now, Shepherd!”
My two explosive experts had set the thunder flashes in irregular lines up the beach. They now exploded them as the Commandos staggered across the sand. Most threw themselves to the ground as the charges exploded. It was like daylight as the two searchlights lit up the beach. By the time they managed to reach the sea wall the one hundred and fifty men were well spread out. I saw Lieutenant Gregson exhorting his men to climb the sea wall. We had covered it in the grease the cooks had collected from their cooking. The men who reached the sea wall were taking three steps forward and two steps back. Daylight had broken by the time the first exhausted Commandos pulled themselves over the wall and reached the road. My men all stood and emptied their guns ten feet above their heads.
