The Germans, for some reason best known to themselves, had lately renamed the Adolf Hitler Line. They now called it the Senger Barrier after, presumably, the distinguished commander of one of their panzer corps, General von Senger und Etterlin, the Rhodes scholar, who had triumphed in the sector in the earlier battles of Cassino.
Perhaps a fortified line bearing the Fuhrer’s title was considered too sacred to be expendable just then, but whether that was so or not, the Germans had spent six months building it. They had done this with Russian and other dissident labour battalions – in other words, slave labour – and, clearly, they meant to hold it.
Nonetheless, these positions were no stronger than the troops that manned them and, after the sudden piercing of the German front in the Liri Valley, manning it all, at least with infantry, had not been achieved in several of the key sections.
The Hitler Line on our part of the front stretched away across the valley and rested on the sheet anchors at each end of it. Pontecorvo on the southern side and Piedimonte, the stronger of the two with the Aquino fortifications below as already mentioned, at the northern end. The Pontecorvo section had been taken over by the enemy in good time and in good order, but this had not been possible at our end of the line. The 1st Para Division had suffered heavily and the other German troops in the district had suffered heavily and the other German troops in the district had also been broken up so that reorganisation had been impossible in the time available.
In the case of Piedimonte, the Polish remnants from Monte Cassino swarmed over the hills and were baying at the gates of the place within twenty four hours of the fall of the monastery. Piedimonte was then virtually empty save for a handful of paratroopers, who had come out of Cassino ahead of the Poles.
In the ensuing disorder, the Polish Carpathian Division stormed into Piedimonte at dawn on the 19th of May at the same time as we, ourselves, were sitting astride the highway just below it. The Poles made an unbelievable amount of noise, while their attack was in progress and, under the circumstances, it is not surprising that we caught part of the German reaction.
Deadly as ever, the German 1st Para Division hit back at the Poles immediately. By nightfall, their 4th Para Regiment had recaptured most of the little town under, or rather above, our noses and eliminated most of the Carpathians, who had got in to the place. The following day, the enemy had recovered it completely.
For two days, there was a see saw struggle here, while the Irish Brigade held the ring for the combatants and stopped the battle from spreading sideways. Our static role was rather trying and we had to endure heavy intermittent shelling, although we were virtually only spectators.
At one stage, we had a fine close up view of a German Mark IV tank engaging a British Churchill in single combat across the draw in front of us. They were only a few hundred yards apart as they sniped with their cannon, hull down behind the crests. The duel went on for some time, with solid shot ricocheting off the rocks – and off each other. Eventually, the German scuttled off unscathed in to dead ground, to lie up in wait for his next set of targets.
The only move that we made at that time was a defensive one and I pushed out H Company to the airfield of Aquino on the afternoon of the 20th. In view of what had just happened, Pat thought that some kind of German sally was all too likely.
The previous day, 36 Brigade had attacked the place with the Buffs and Argylls in a rather disjointed operation – of a kind which was usually fatal with the German paras. They had been repelled with heavy loss, including both of their commanders and the Buffs’ CO (Lieut Colonel GM de Monk MC) died in the battle. His command carrier was blown to bits by a direct hit from an 88 mounted flush with the ground in a concrete cupola. The range was under a hundred yards when it happened. We found the wreckage later.
That part of the conflict was fought out in dense fog and the ground at the southern edge of the airfield was strewn with shattered wrecks. Mostly these were the Buffs’ carriers, bunched up together with a number of tanks and other vehicles. They had been caught at point blank when the mist cleared and the Germans had shot them to pieces in a few minutes’ firing.
That eddying morning mist was deadly with its treacherous phenomenon of lifting in patches. This sometimes happened at the deck level although opaque just a few feet up. In other words, men on the move or in vehicles might well be seeing nothing when their opponents, hidden in their concrete pits, could see quite enough to engage them.
Satisfied with their success and, no doubt working to a timetable, the enemy abandoned Aquino the following night. That morning, when H Company probed forward, I think we could have taken the whole airfield sector and sailed through the Hitler Line without the slightest difficulty. However, smarting under the repulse, our division lay under restraint just then – thereby providing what a resolute rearguard can do.
I think that at that moment, our people were fully absorbed with Piedimonte to the exclusion of all else and the chance of harrying the enemy as he pulled back was let slip.
On my part, I spent my valuable time writing to the next of kin of our casualties and diving for cover when our opponents let rip at us, which they did pretty frequently.
The battle for Piedimonte started to wane during the 21st after the Paras had expelled another Polish attack. While the pause lasted, Kendal Chavasse dropped in for lunch, as he often did when new moves were afoot. No one bore evil tidings more cheerfully than Kendal and he was always likely to appear in our mess when something nasty was about to happen. He was a welcome harbinger in spite of this habit, but on this occasion his news was pleasant for once. His recce regiment was taking over the sector. I was not sorry. The Rifles had seen quite enough of it. We had been unlucky here, losing men daily and being unable to hit back.
Some of Kendal’s scouts had already joined up with Desmond’s H Company at the airfield and they were now taking over the whole of our role as flank guard to free us for our next operations. 56 Reconnaissance Regiment were well equipped with their armoured cars for this kind of purpose – which was, in fact, what they were for and they were less vulnerable than we were.
However, the enemy had not finished with us yet. The battle flared up again at dusk and in their final fling, we lost another ten of our men to their guns, my driver among them. Several of our vehicles were hit and burned out, including one of the mortar platoon’s carriers. Most of the casualties were in E Company. After dark, we pulled back to Fiore, in brigade reserve a short distance behind the Recce.
Finally at first light on the 22nd, the Poles attacked Piedimonte once more and secured the place at last with negligible opposition. Our redoubtable opponents had again slipped out during the night and this, the fourth and final Polish attack, hit thin air for the second time in a week.
The German withdrawal for the sector was determined by the strategic situation elsewhere. Twenty four hours later, the Canadian 1st Division and their 5th Armoured Division sliced through the Hitler Line north of Pontecorvo like butter and after our experience of their countrymen shortly afterwards, I can quite understand why.
The German collapse at Pontecorvo finally unhinged the Hitler Line in the Liri sector and their failure to hold the key parts of it was such that there was no point in it ever being built. For practical purposes, it was never effectively defended save for that rearguard action at Aquino and our own 11 brigade of 78 Division walked straight through there the following day without opposition. By this time, the whole of the German forces opposite us at the northern end of the sector was now racing north to escape encirclement.
From this day onwards, the 23rd, although we did not appreciate it as such, the battle of Cassino had ended in victory. From then on, the German purpose was to frustrate and delay until a new line could be stabilised – and our task was to prevent that happening.
The hue and cry was on and we were about to learn a new lesson – how to conduct pursuit. We had a bad beginning at Aquino and we gave our opponents, who had fought there, a two day lead on us quite unnecessarily.
Sprawled across the valley, as we were, and with an enormous impedimenta involving the transport of the entire army, there was competition for the existing roads. In consequence, there was a good deal of sorting out to be done before any pursuit was possible and the Irish Brigade remained where it was for the next two days.
On the evening of the 23rd, we were introduced to the 11th Canadian Armoured Regiment. This unit had been assigned to support us in the near future and so we received a state call from Major Douglas McIndoe, Art Tongs, one of his subalterns, and several others. Douglas was one of the squadron commanders. The regiment had just lost a number of its tanks in that bloody battle at Aquino but, as Douglas cheerfully observed, ‘No doubt, we shall be given others.’
Sergeant Browne, the mess sergeant, laid on a full scale banquet in honour of the occasion and the hospitality evidently touched the emotions of our visitors. The evening became rather noisy, and noisier still when the revellers starting singing our Irish songs.
I don’t suppose this exuberance in our camp was the cause of it but, at midnight, we had a surprise visit from the Luftwaffe. They sent in a good many aircraft and they droned all over us for a space, putting down parachute flares and other devices, which lit up most of the valley. Having done that to their satisfaction, they then started to rain down AP bombs on us, flying in single aircraft one at a time at very low attitudes. Of course, they could see our vehicles dotted about in the olive trees as if it had been daylight. They kept up for at least half an hour, showering their unpleasant missiles down on us – and others of their friends kept joining in to relays, no doubt attracted by the glare whenever their predecessors hit anything.
By the time, they had finished several of our men had been hit by splinters and we lost quite a number of vehicles. Some of the latter were still burning when the sun rose and the sparkling mist of the morning was altogether ruined by the eddying smoke and the pungent scent of scorching.
The rest of the brigade suffered equally, so no one could cast any stones.
On the 24th, I appointed 677201 Rifleman, late Fusilier, John F Clanachan, a Lance Corporal.
Writing to father, I said,
‘Clanachan is in his element and has acquired new dignity with his new status… He is now lance corporal and throwing the hell of a chest. He was quite dumb founded when we announced his promotion, having been a fusilier for twelve years…Kendal Chavasse is coming to lunch with me today….and it is always fun having the opposing team’s rations which makes a pleasant change. I have found that one entirely loses appetite when on the job and no one seems to eat anything at all. We keep going on tea, run and tobacco. But we made up for it afterwards, though.’
And ‘The country here is simply lovely and it is hard to associate it with war. The fields are full of multi coloured flowers, poppies and yellow things and roses growing down all the hedges and the crops nearly at full height. I wonder who will reap them.’
Clanachan was further inflated that day as among the first to compliment him on his elevation was our brigadier, Pat Scott, who had dropped in for lunch.
The next morning, Thursday the 25th, we were at immediate notice to move from dawn onwards, though for the whole of the day nothing was possible as the 6th Armoured Division was blocking the road in front of us.
That evening, Ian Lawrie arrived – standing in for Paul. Ian, Captain WI Lawrie, was battery captain of 26 Battery, who supported the Faughs and, as their FOO, had taken them through that bloody day in the Gustav. 26 Battery was commanded then by Douglas Anderson, another old friend and Paul’s opposite number. A lithe and agile fellow, Ian was a Highland scot from Glasgow and, like Jimmy Stewart our brigade major, he found this no handicap in an all Irish formation. The Irish Brigade always liked a few Highlanders in their midst – if only, at times, to provoke them. He brought Alan Parsons with him, whom we also knew well. Alan was standing in for John Lockwood.
Ian came round all the companies with me that evening and he knew most of our people anyway. From now on, he would get to know them even better.
Up to that stage not even Pat, and none of the COs, had had much experience of the German performance with rearguards. The enemy had carried out this role most effectively at Piumarola – although we had not recognised it as such. But from now on, we would become fully familiar with their technique.
Our initiation in to their delaying tactics began at the head of the Liri Valley – that is at the western exits.
The valley itself is an elongated amphitheatre, very long in proportion to its width and presided over by the Monte Cairo range on the northern side and the lower Aurunician hills to the south. But at the valley head, which we were now facing, the Via Casilina took a right angle turn to the south. Here at Arce, this route, Highway Six, was effectively barred by two features.
Insignificant in comparison with the mountains to the east, Montes Piccolo and Grande were nevertheless strong enough tactically. These two hills dominated the little towns of Arce on the one side and Ceprano to the south on the other and they prevented access to either. Highway Six unfortunately ran through both of them. In view of this, the German naturally clamped down on the two hills immediately and they had very reason to hold them for as long as possible.
Whilst they did so, they would effectively take the pressure off the retreat and this was absolutely necessary for them as most of their 10th Army was on the move just then, rapidly disengaging rearwards. They also had to cover the escape of their mountain troops outflanked in the high hills behind us. Their gunners up there were still firing industriously in to our tail, having swung their weapons round through an arc of 180 degrees in the long course of the battle. In the meantime, our vehicles could only trickle forward.
The Germans assigned the defence of the sector to the 1st Para Regiment and that fact was a sufficient indication of their purpose.
At first light on the 26th, the 6th Armoured Division sent in the Guards Brigade against Monte Grande and the Irish Brigade was assigned the task of bypassing the battle and getting round the back of it.
We were on the move once more on the 26th at 0300 hours, which seemed to be the favourite time just then for starting new operations. The Faughs were ahead of us and were lying second up in the brigade.
Rather improbably, we had the whole of the battalion em-bussed in troop carriers and we swung off through a deserted and wrecked Aquino and up Highway Six with our transport – just as we might have done during peacetime manoeuvres. Either we were pushing our luck or else there had been a high level communication failure.
I must say it did seem a little strange, motoring along that highway with burned out vehicles embroidering the verges along the whole of its length. British wrecks were nearly as numerous as the German remnants and there were a good many tanks lying there from both sides.
The operation began to look faintly ridiculous when the road in front started to leap up in fountains under shell fire and straight ahead loomed the sinister bulk of Monte Piccolo. Until that moment, we had not been aware that its occupants were unfriendly.
The situation rapidly became an impossible one and we debussed the battalion in one of the swiftest dismounting operations that I had seen anywhere up to that time.
After that, we lay up in the nearby olive groves in frustration for the rest of the day and part of the following morning and then moved slowly forward while the Guards scaled the nearby hills and fought their action through to its long drawn out conclusion.
In the meantime, the Faughs were pushing on ahead, probing round the southern and western footings of the two hills. In the course of this, they were heavily engaged by the German gunners, who were sitting on the slopes just above them.
As Pat said, ‘The German OPs on Grande were looking straight down in to us and we could hardly move a yard in those sparse woods without being spotted by them. They had all the tracks taped and the junctions registered of course.’
Later that afternoon of the 27th, we were diverted and Pat received warning orders to support the attack on Grande.
At 9pm, he called me up, actually to set the thing in motion but, by that time, I think we were too far round and the out flanking movement of the Faughs was making itself felt.
Pat didn’t like getting mixed up in other people’s battles if he could avoid it. There was little chance of proper coordination and adventures of that kind were liable to end in chaos.
He remarked afterwards, ‘I was jolly anxious to get on out of it and away from the district. I didn’t want our chaps pulled in to that kind of bear garden.’
And of course, it was far better to outflank such positions instead of going at them head on as the Guards had done – easier and far less expensive.
Nonetheless, the Faughs had a rotten day and it was a trying one for all of us. In the late evening, they were edging up to Route Six near Ceprano and the forward movement continued slowly until midnight. Movement in fact was only made possible due to the impromptu bridge building across dykes, streams and ditches by the divisional sappers and by their bulldozing activities. It was a day of very hard going as cross country movements often are. This was harder than most of them with rugged terrain and one obstacle after another.
Pat went up to the Faughs that night and arrived while they were still under intermittent shell fire, ‘…as hair raising a drive as I ever want – with that and my wireless packing up, I was not in my silkiest mood when I reached them. This was made worse by not being able to find anyone and I started giving tongue on the subject.’ Brian Clark, the adjutant, found his brigadier wandering around in due course. As most of Brian’s Tac HQ had already been hit and with vehicles on fire everywhere around them, it is hardly surprising that Pat’s reception lacked the usual formalities.
He went on, ‘….I noticed, on reaching their HQ, a good many burning objects but did not realise that they had just suffered heavy shelling. I was duly contrite….’ However, Brian observed afterwards that if the brigadier felt contrite, he certainly kept it to himself.
Pat also said, ‘Coming back afterward in the dark, we lost ourselves but eventually ran in to one of Ronnie Denton’s (Major RB Denton MC, 214 Field Company RE – the 78 Division sappers) bull dozing parties. These chaps thought nothing of playing about on their own in no man’s land.’
Although unpleasant, I suppose that the day’s operation were successful. The purpose was certainly achieved, although the Faughs suffered severely from shell fire at dusk. We did ourselves too. Our support units on the move, with their retinue of transport, inevitably attracted attention. After striking at the Faughs, the enemy then shifted on to us and, in our turn, we left a blazing trail of wreckage behind us with burning carriers and other vehicles – mostly belonging to S Company. Unfortunately, we lost a number of good chaps with them.
The 11th Canadians had been diverted during this phase so Douglas and his men had not, as yet, joined us. However, at nightfall, Mike Eveleigh reported instead. Mike commanded B Squadron of the 3rd Hussars and he moved his tanks in to join us during the late night.
At dawn, the Germans were not slow in noticing these movements and they promptly set about us again, hitting several more of our vehicles, this time belonging to the MG platoon. We were still under close observation and spotting from their hill top eyries, shot with devastating accuracy. Using up their ammunition stocks before pulling back, this last ditch effort was as destructive as any other part of the battle. The scream of projectiles seemed endless and before the echoes of the explosions died others were on their way. They hit one machine after another and most of them went up in flames immediately they were hit. When the torment ended, Charles Bird had two of his Vickers and one of the carriers left. The others were fragmented and smouldering scrap iron tossed over the valley like wrack after the hurricane has passed. He lost his gun crews with them.
After this, however, the next day went better and, by 0800, the Faughs were across the Liri north of Ceprano and we followed, tanks and all, quickly after them.
Halting across the river, we watched the fireworks going off on the top of Grande and Piccolo where the enemy was busy counter attacking. The Guards and, I think, the Rifle Brigade, had got on to the top of Piccolo after a typical resistance by the 1st Paras, who had held on to the place with extraordinary tenacity. Furthermore, their defence of it during those two and a half days had probably saved thousands of their comrades.
While we were waiting and breakfasting, Norman Bass looked in, on his way back from the Faughs to their B Echelon, who were now well behind us. Norman had been blown up on a mine the previous evening, but with his india rubber constitution appeared none the worse.
It was now our turn and at 1000, we took over the role of advance guard, coming up on the left of the Faughs. I thought the country ahead of us looked pretty foul and I knew that every key feature in it would be held like Monte Piccolo had been.