Personal Worries – Casualties.
As we got closer to the battlefields of Tunisia in December 1942, I was a Corporal in command of a section (up to 10 men). My thoughts were very often deeply concerned with what my reactions might be in certain circumstances in battle. My main concern was how I would react if men of my Section or Platoon were badly wounded or mutilated by shell or bomb. I was not at all concerned about battle noise.
I did not have long to wait for my first baptism of shellfire and casualties. One day early in January 1943 at about midday, our position was heavily shelled. Fortunately, everyone was in their trenches when it happened and the shelling did not last long, but quite soon after it started, there were calls for stretcher bearers from a trench close to mine but at a lower level. As I looked in the direction of this trench, I was horrified to see strips of flesh dangling from camouflage branches covering the parapet of my trench. I had visions of what I might see – terrible mutilations etc. but these thoughts only lasted seconds. I was quickly out of my trench to see to the casualties. The trench they were in was L shaped and was occupied by my Bren gun Section, a L/Cpl and two Fusiliers. The shell had exploded on the corner of the L, wounding all three, two quite badly. All were quickly taken out by the stretcher bearers and moved to the Battalion Aid Post for evacuation to hospital.
After this incident, all my worries and doubts about my reactions to certain casualties disappeared. I felt well and truly blooded
Cpl. Murphy – A Consequence Of War.
Corporal Murphy was a Section Commander in my Company in December 1942. He was married and his wife was expecting their first baby sometime that month. Our Battalion sailed from Liverpool in November 1942 for North Africa (Operation Torch). Before leaving our camp in Scotland, Cpl Murphy had requested that he be left behind with our Reinforcement Company which was not due to leave for another six weeks. This would ensure that he would be available in England when the baby arrived. His request was turned down for obvious reasons as others might want similar consideration.
We arrived in the battle area of Tunisia in late December. Because this was a new area of operations and having very long lines of supply and communications, it was many weeks before any mail from home arrived. In the meantime, Cpl. Murphy was worried sick, not knowing if all was well with his wife. Eventually, he received a letter telling him that he was the father of a baby daughter and that mother and child were in good health.
This turned Cpl. Murphy into a new man. Over the following months, photos of the baby started to appear and daddy was looking forward to a time when he would be able to cuddle his daughter.
In October 1944, Murphy, now a sergeant, was involved in heavy fighting in northern Italy and, along with a large number of other soldiers of the Battalion, he was killed.
Of course, there were many similar cases during the war, but I knew Murphy personally.
A Night Patrol Attack.
On a fairly clear night with lots of stars in a clear sky, I was out on a fighting patrol of about eight men commanded by a Lieutenant Walsh. I was 2 i/c of the patrol. Our brief was to be become as big a nuisance as possible to Jerry. The area to be patrolled was quite flat but contained quite a number of wadis and lay to the right of the main enemy position known as ‘Two Tree Hill’.
It is always necessary on these night patrols to go to ground frequently and listen for noises that are not normal at night e.g. voices, digging, vehicles etc. On one of these stops to listen, we heard voices which appeared to come from somewhere in front and on either side of us. After poking about a bit, we discovered that we were in the centre of a horseshoe shaped wadi and we had entered it through the open end.
Lt, Walsh and I discussed the situation in a whisper. We decided that six of us should crawl forward to a point in the wadi directly in front where there seemed to be the most enemy activity, leaving two of the patrol to cover our rear. We were wearing leather jerkins over our uniforms and this combined with crawling over dry stubble sounded to our ears like a steamroller crushing fresh gravel. Having got to within five yards of the edge of the wadi the head and shoulders of a German Officer or N.C.O. appeared in front of us, shouted “Achtung” and other words we did not understand. I was in the middle of our group and I immediately opened fire with my sub-machine gun (Tommy Gun) and fired half a magazine (about 10 rounds) at the target, whilst the others lobbed in hand grenades. We then got to our feet and ran back the way we had come picking up our rear party on the way. After about 300 yards or so, we went to ground to listen to what was going on behind, flares were going up and illuminating the whole area as well as M.G.s firing in every direction. Clearly our opponents had received a late night surprise they had not anticipated.
The return trip to our own positions was fairly fast but great alertness had to be maintained throughout, enemy patrols may also have been around creating the danger of being ambushed ourselves.
On that patrol we thought we had stumbled on German units either waiting to go to positions on their main position ‘Two Tree Hill’, or else had come off the hill and were waiting to go back to a rest area to their rear, after having been replaced by fresh troops.
A few days after this event I was promoted to Sergeant – I was still a teenager.
Horror Of Horrors – Anti Personnel Jump Mines.
On a reasonably bright night early in February 1943, I was 2 i/c of a fighting patrol whose brief was to check on enemy patrol activities in “no mans land”, in an area on the right flank of the main German position on our front which was being defended by paratroopers of the Hermann Goring Division.
The patrol was commanded by Lt. Walsh and consisted of eight Fusiliers and myself. We were negotiating some rather flat ground that was intersected with wadis and gullies and quite close to the enemy positions. Whilst moving along one of these wadis which was pointing in the general direction of the enemy positions, we suddenly noticed patches of freshly disturbed earth on the floor of the wadi. As a Fusilier and I were in the lead, I stopped the patrol and immediately discovered that we were just inches away from trip wires which were connected to anti-personnel jump mines and very recently laid. Any pressure on the trip wire would release a mechanism at the base of the mine, just beneath the surface, and cause a small charge to explode which propelled the mine 6 to 8 feet into the air, where it would explode discharging hundreds of steel ball bearings in all directions. Anyone caught in close proximity would be killed or seriously injured. We did not wear steel helmets on patrol! Trip wires were usually connected to several mines, all of which would be ignited when the trip wire is disturbed.
We realised that we were in a dangerous situation and that the enemy, who had so recently planted the mines, may still be in the vicinity. This realisation caused the patrol to quickly withdraw a hundred yards or so back in the direction from which we had come. When clear of the wadi, we went to ground to listen for any noise that might indicate that we were not alone in no man’s land. After a few minutes we came to the conclusion that we were alone and withdrew.
On reaching the safety of our own position, I know that we all thanked ‘someone’ that we had not ignited any of those mines.
Any patrols in areas of conflict are in the main very stressful and everyone must maintain a high degree of alertness at all times.
How I Came To Be A Sergeant At 19.
I was one of three Corporals in 17 Platoon ‘D’ Coy. There are 3 sections of 10 men each in a Platoon and each section is commanded by a Corporal. On leaving UK in November 1942 for N. Africa, I was the youngest Corporal in the Battalion.
Right from the first day we took over front line positions in Tunisia, I was being picked for every patrol that my Platoon had to send out into “No Man’s land” whether it was a recce, standing or fighting patrol. I was either in command of the patrol or 2 i/c to the Platoon Commander who was Lt. D. Walsh (a Dubliner). He was 37 years old and had joined up in 1940 at the upper age limit of 35 and here he was in Tunisia, the oldest Lieutenant in the army, taking out patrols etc. Most officers of that age would be a Colonel or a Brigadier. The Platoon Sergeant (who was 42 years old) was a chap called Martin and had already completed 22 years service. 17 Platoon had the oldest Commander and Sergeant in the Battalion and most probably in all front line units throughout the army.
As a result of the number of patrols in which I had been involved, and one in particular, I was promoted Lance/Sergeant and this did not go down at all well with the other two Corporals in my Platoon and the others in ‘D’ Coy, who were all older and senior to me.
Shortly after my promotion the Platoon was ordered to take over the defence of some farm buildings in open country about ¾ mile in front of a small town called “Bou Arada”. This landed our Platoon in the most advanced position in the entire Irish Brigade sector. The farm was protected by barbed wire and anti-tank mines and also had 2 x 6″ pounder anti-tank guns in position. German tanks would have to use this open country in any attack on our Brigade positions. We were in fact in a very exposed position.
A few nights after we took possession of this farm, a message was received from Battalion HQ to the effect that Lt. Walsh and Sgt. Martin were to report to HQ with all their kit as soon as possible and that I was to take command of the Platoon.
Lt. Walsh and Sgt Martin were being sent back to UK to pass on their knowledge and experiences of war in Tunisia. I was quite sure that was not the reason they were being sent home as they had not been our there long enough to get any worthwhile experience. I think that a mistake had been made in allowing an aged Lt. and Sgt. to be sent out to a war zone for front line duty in the first place.
As a 19 year old, I was now left in command of a platoon of 36 men, two anti-tank guns with their crew of 1 Sgt and about 8 gunners. A few nights later, we were relieved by a platoon from another company and we rejoined our own company now on “Grandstand Hill”, the main Irish Brigade position – to my great relief!
About 10 days after we had left that farm, the enemy did launch an attack, supported by about 30 tanks, some of which got quite close to the farm. At this particular time, my platoon was occupying a position just behind “Grandstand Hill” and were able to watch the German attack develop. The tanks were stopped – 19 of them knocked out and left burning – by our artillery. By late afternoon, the attack had petered out completely and by dusk all surviving tanks had disappeared.
All is well that ends well.
“We Buried Them In The Dead Of Night”
I was a 19 year old Sergeant in command of 17 Platoon in February 1943. During one afternoon’s briefing for the coming night, I was told to take my platoon out after last light to an area very close to the front of our Company position. We were to bury some German paratroopers who had been killed during an attack on our position “Grandstand Hill” some 15-16 days before.
Arriving at the burial site only a few yards beyond our wire, we commenced collecting the dead paratroopers on stretchers and placed them near a communal grave being dug in a gully. Whilst collecting six bodies lying in a gully leading up to our wire, we noted that the body nearest the wire was that of a young officer. He was lying on his back with his head resting on his knapsack and his right hand was on his chest. Under his hand, there appeared to be a photograph which was collected by one of our party.
We buried 15 bodies that night and a further 9 the following night making a total of 24. All the bodies were in an advanced state of decomposition and were basically held together by their uniforms and equipment – the smell was awful. The reason they had not been buried before was simply that we did not know they were there because of the nature of the terrain i.e. rocks, gullies and dead ground. The first intimation of those bodies was the smell!
The following morning when we were having breakfast in our trenches, the photograph found on the officer’s body was passed around from trench to trench. It showed a very attractive young woman of about 19 or 20 with an equally attractive child of about 12 months in her arms. Both were smiling and waving at the camera, probably saying bye-bye to a young husband and father going off to war. As the photograph was passed to each member of the platoon, no one made any comment. I know that I, like everyone else, found it a very poignant moment to think that the young officer had taken it out of his pocket to say goodbye to his wife and child before he died.
I remember thinking to myself, what in the name of God are we, young men from about eight different nations, doing killing each other in these God forsaken and barren hills of Tunisia. That thought quickly passed and we just got on with the war. The thing we could not get rid of was the smell of decaying human flesh; it seemed to cling to our uniforms like cigarette smoke.
One other fact made the burial of those German soldiers even more poignant. On the day they were killed, the Germans had attacked our position on “Grandstand Hill” about an hour after first light and we were fully prepared to attack their positions on “Two Tree Hill” that night. One of our two attacking Companies was to have been mine – ‘D’ Coy. Due largely to the amount of ammunition used repelling the German attack, ours was called off. The thought occurred to all of us that had the Germans not attacked that morning, then they would probably have had the honour of burying us.
I continued to serve with the Regiment in Tunisia, Sicily and Italy until the end of the war and was never again involved with burial parties.
The German soldiers who opposed us (the 38th Irish Brigade) in Tunisia belonged to the Herman Goring Parachute Division. They were among approx. 300,000 Axis troops who surrendered in May 1943 when all fighting ceased in Africa.
Seeing Is Believing.
On 7th April 1943, I was Platoon Sergeant of 17 Platoon ‘D’ Coy. taking part in a 78 Division major attack on Djebel Mahdi. Shortly after our arrival on our newly won position, my Platoon was ordered to go forward and investigate enemy movement seen on a feature in front of the Company position.
The Platoon was not able to go directly forward but had to move to a flank and then approach the area indicated. Now out of sight of our Company position, enemy movement was spotted about a 100 yards away on our left and on higher ground. The Platoon Commander immediately gave the order to wheel to the left and charge the enemy position. As we did so, our opponents opened fire on us, killing and wounding several of the us including the Platoon Commander who was badly wounded. We continued charging up the slope firing our weapons from the hip and screaming a variety of Irish obscenities, our opponents quickly put up the “white flag” and we were quite surprised to take the surrender of some 19 Germans all in good health, well dug in and in a good position. The ground we had to cover leading up to their position was flat and completely bare of any cover and they could have picked us off one by one.
During the round up, disarming and searching the prisoners I was puzzled to see a Fusilier H. Fisher behaving in a friendly way with one of the prisoners and under my startled gaze they were actually exchanging photographs. Fisher was a Belfast man and pre-war had been a very good amateur boxer and had reached the finals of the “Golden Gloves” Championships in the U.S.A. On this desolate hill in Tunisia, Fusilier Fisher had met by chance, in combat, one of his old boxing opponents who had fought for the ‘father-land’ in the same competition. The chances of that meeting must have been “one in a million”.
Harry Fisher survived the war, as I am sure did his old enemy pugilist.
Night Attack On “Djebel Ang”
Two Companies, A & D, were ordered to retake a hill called “Djebel Ang” in a night attack. This hill had been lost in a German attack the day previous when a English county battalion had been in possession. “Djebel Ang” was quite high, rocky and narrow with what I called a camel’s hump about ¾ of the way along from our attack start line; the ground sloped quite sharply down on either side, particularly so on the left.
Our two attacking companies formed a box formation because of the nature of the terrain. All automatic weapons were positioned along the front of the box, and on the flanks so that maximum automatic fire could be directed at targets in every direction. The divisional artillery (25 pounders) were supporting our attack with a creeping barrage which we had to keep close to as we advanced. All opposition was very quickly put out of action by shell and bullet.
As we approached the ‘Camel’s Hump’ we became aware that our heavy artillery 5.5″ guns were firing from positions a couple of miles back from our right rear at enemy gun positions out to our left front (ie a diagonal line of fire). It soon became apparent that these heavy shells were crossing the hump very close to its top and that sooner or later one or two of these shells would strike its top and probably cause us casualties as we passed on either side.
I was in command of 17 Platoon on the left of our box formation and as we approached the hump which rose up sharply, it became obvious that the two companies would have to continue to advance to the right of the hump and this would cause a degree of congestion due to the narrowness and steepness of the slope, the ground on the left dropped away very sharply. As I was about to direct my Platoon over to the right, I noticed that there appeared to be a goat track running along on the left of the hump and which appeared negotiable in single file, and I had a hunch that the track would converge with the right where the hump levelled off further along.
We had no difficulty following the track in single file but about half way along, at least one heavy shell struck the top of the hump; the explosion sent a shower of rocks down on top of us but, fortunately due to the steepness of the slope, the large pieces shot out over us. At this point, there were calls for stretcher bearers on the other side as one friendly shell had killed the “A” Coy. Commander and another officer who had just returned from hospital, having been wounded during an attack in January; a signaller was also killed and a number of soldiers wounded.
Had my Platoon gone to the right with the others we would have been somewhere in the vicinity of that shell explosion. As anticipated my Platoon converged with those on the right as if it had been planned.
The attack on that night was very successful, with all enemy units being overrun, killed or captured and the morale of the two Companies was sky high.
Djebel Ang” was a very important position of high ground which had to be in our hands before the final push onto Tunis.
Night Attack On Hill 622 (Butler’s Hill)
After last light on 22nd April 1943, my company carried out a night attack on a feature called point 622 (Butler’s Hill) supported by a heavy artillery barrage. I remember as we advanced we thought that every German machine gun in Tunisia was firing – most on fixed lines, covering every possible line of approach to their positions. Our problem was finding the gaps that were not covered.
When we reached the forward slopes of ‘622’ it was a case of crawling from rock to rock, the objective stood out above us like a flat top loaf and there appeared to be a machine gun every few yards around its perimeter. Another memory of that attack was how verbal the German defenders were during the early stages of our attack, they appeared to be shouting encouragement, giving orders or asking for information. Of course, we didn’t have a clue what they were saying. On the other hand, we were keeping very quiet so as not to give our locations away.
The noise of battle on that night was quite horrendous, artillery shells and mortar bombs exploding in large numbers all over our area – added to by grenades and machine gun fire. You could always tell whose guns were firing. The German machine guns tended to fire long bursts at a very rapid rate of fire while our Brens fired short bursts and had only half the rate of fire of the German ones.
Shortly after the attack started, my Platoon lost contact with the rest of the Coy. A Sgt Morrissey was acting Platoon Commander and I was the Sergeant and, together with a number of Corporals and Fusiliers, were able to get on to the forward slopes of 622 and got involved in quite an exchange of fire with at least three enemy machine guns, some as close as 20 yards away. Grenades were exploding all around us and fortunately none of us had been injured at that stage.
I took over a Bren gun and got into a good position behind a large rock and started to pick off enemy guns one at a time. Up to this point, they were not firing at us but appeared to be firing on fixed lines into an area behind us. I would watch for their muzzle flash, aim at it and then fire a long burst and this appeared to be effective as at least two of their guns ceased firing bur another one must have spotted my muzzle flash and returned fire. The German machine guns could fire up to 1200 rounds per minute and, on this occasion, a burst of 15-20 rounds was fired at the rock in front of me and I could feel the rock shudder with the impact of so many bullets.
At this point in our battle. I heard the Company Commander, Major Horsfall, giving fire orders from a position somewhere behind us. We immediately realised that a potential target for such orders would be too close to us for comfort and I set off crawling and running to where I thought he was and luckily found him and told him where I had come from and that I thought that he was about to shoot up our back sides. This was always a great danger when fighting in this sort of rocky terrain at night.
Major Horsfall was very pleased to know of my Platoon position and told me to go back there and keep engaging the enemy and that he would attempt to round up enough of the Company to try an attack from a position on our right. However, in the darkness and amongst the rocks, he could not find enough men to carry out his intentions and, instead, he came forward to where I was with my Platoon and was promptly wounded by a grenade. A piece of grenade shrapnel had caused an injury to his right eye and he was in some pain and having difficulty seeing and asked me to find a Lt. Sillem, the only remaining officer in the Company so that he could hand over command to him.
I remember that I could not find this officer but took Major Horsfall to find the stretcher bearers to have his eye seen to. I then headed back to my Platoon but had not gone far when I almost stumbled upon a Fusilier Dunn of 18 Platoon, who was lying on a flat rock and appeared to be in great pain with a severely injured leg; He pleaded with me for help and, after a few minutes, I got hold of two stretcher bearers and we managed to get Dunn down to lower ground and just as we got him down there were a number of grenade explosions almost at our feet. I and one of the Stretcher Bearers were injured and I had numerous pieces of grenade shrapnel in my left leg, left arm and under my chin.
The reader should understand that this being a night attack on a very rocky feature where the Germans had been in occupation since December 1942, were well dug in, had good camouflaged positions and were not easily seen in the dark. In our initial advance that night, we had obviously by passed some of them. The defenders were now quietly throwing grenades at any unwary soldier.
After the grenade attack, I was bleeding quite profusely and in need of medical help, I was sent back to the RAP (Regimental Aid Post) where the medical Sgt. (Phillips) cut off my left trouser leg above the knee and also the left sleeve of my Battledress jacket. My injuries were all flesh wounds and the most serious one was a piece of shrapnel that had penetrated between the tendons on the outside of my left knee. Incidentally Fusilier Dunn, who was a big fellow (14-15 stone), was also taken safely to the RAP.
By ambulance and train over the next day or two, I finished up in the 92 Field Hospital (tented) in Algiers, where I spent the next 3-4 weeks recovering. I arrived back with the Battalion in late June about 2 weeks before the landings in Sicily.
I had been wounded between 0200 and 0300 hrs on St. Georges’ Day and it was almost full daylight when I arrived at the RAP. The attack on Hill 622 had failed and our casualties were heavy. Going into the attack, the Company was about 70 all ranks strong but the roll call on St. Georges’ morning revealed 1 officer, Lt. Sillem, and 22 other rank survivors.
Hill 622 fell to a reinforced ‘D’ Coy. in a day light attack on 25th April and was supported by three Churchill tanks of the North Irish Horse Regiment, who had made an incredible climb up a very rocky feature to take up “Hull Down” positions in front of Hill 622, where they were able to use their 6 pounder guns firing solid shot and H.E. shells at visible targets and were also able to use their BESA MGs to good effect.
Lt. Sillem was killed leading ‘D’ Coy in that attack.
Close Calls.
Mid April 1943 in the early morning after the capture of the hill feature “Djebel Ang” my platoon had found itself in a very exposed position on the Company’s right flank and very close to Hill 622, which was still in enemy hands. Its forward positions were only 75 yards away and on a higher level. Away to our right, at a much lower level, we could see “Longstop Hill” also occupied by the enemy. We could see German soldiers shaking their blankets outside their trenches and dugouts in the early morning, apparently unaware that Tommy now held the high ground and was looking down on him. Longstop Hill was about a mile and a half away, was about ¾ mile long and not very high; its importance was in the fact that it ran parallel to the main road from Medjez-El-Bab to Tebourba and Tunis and would have to be captured before any advance along that road. German positions on Longstop were about to become untenable because our artillery could now destroy all their positions on that hill at will.
As we took stock of our position in the early morning light, I realised that we were indeed in a very exposed situation and had to dig in very quickly behind a number of large rocks and had to accept that our field of fire was going to be very limited. Trenches of a sort would have to be dug behind the rocks which would conceal us from German machine guns and snipers on 622.
Myself and two fusiliers were digging behind a particularly large rock and had to dig around each side so that we could, if required, bring fire to bear on the enemy position above. I was digging at the left side of the rock as far round as I safely could and, in doing so, I must have exposed my head for a second as suddenly there was a sharp bang which indicated to me that my left hear had escaped a snipers bullet by a fraction and the ear left singing for several minutes afterwards. I dropped down in the trench and shouted “for God’s sake keep your heads down, that bullet was meant for me”. A few seconds afterwards, a Fusilier Henry who had been slightly lower down behind me in the trench said “I think that I have been hit” and pointed to a spot just above his left collar bone, I could only see what looked like an insect bite and asked him to turn round and I immediately saw blood oozing from quite a noticeable wound just below his left shoulder blade. That bullet fired by a sniper at me was on a downward path, missed me and hit Henry’s shoulder; it had gone in just behind his collar bone and came out just below his left shoulder blade without touching a bone – two very lucky soldiers!! We put a field dressing on Henry’s wound and with some difficulty got him back to the Battalion Aid Post.
At about mid-day on the same day, a Lance Corporal Johnston and I were standing in a trench which had been dug earlier. All the earth and stones dug up had been piled up at the front of the trench to form a parapet to give some extra protection. Johnston and I were chatting and enjoying the warm April sun as nothing was happening and the whole front was peaceful. Suddenly a shell exploded on the front of our trench, blowing most of the loose earth on top of us. We dropped on our bottoms in the trench, looked at each other and said simultaneously “Where the hell did that come from?” and fully expected more shells to follow, but none came. We came to the conclusion that a German O.P. at the rear of “Longstop Hill” had spotted us in our trench through their binoculars and got an anti-tank gun or a tank to fire one H.E. shell aimed at our trench. It would not have fired again knowing that it would be seen by our artillery O.P. and quickly put out of action. Had that shell exploded one foot higher up on the parapet of our trench, you would not be reading this!!
After last light on that day my Platoon was pulled back to take over a less exposed position with in ‘D’ Coy. area. We were too close to the enemy to give “three hearty cheers” for that order.
Longstop Hill.
During December 1942, a Guards Brigade and one American Battalion had made three attempts to capture “Long Stop Hill”. Two attempts were successful but were driven off again by strong enemy counter attacks. The third attempt failed to get going. Casualties amongst the Guards and Americans were very heavy and the weather at the time of these attacks was foul, heavy rain for long spells which turned the ground into deep mud in which tanks and other vehicles could not operate.
Every move made by the Guards and Americans on “Longstop Hill” was seen by enemy O.P.s on Djebel Ang, who were able to direct accurate artillery and mortar fire on their positions. The Army Command decided that “Longstop” would have to remain in enemy hands until the high ground “Djebel Ang” was in our hands. Due to weather conditions and insufficient troops, that had to wait until April 1943, when we took it.