His comrade Jim Charters also remembered his first experience of coming under fire: ‘It was a shock the first time we got mortared. But what can you do? You just got down as far as possible in your hole. The survival instinct just takes over.’
On the day following the German assault into the Low Countries the 1st Black Watch came under heavy artillery fire and encountered an enemy patrol during the night, as they attempted to sneak through the lines. The men in the forward posts waited until the enemy were moving between their positions then opened fire, hitting the leading Germans, who were walking openly, obviously not expecting to meet any resistance. The patrol scattered and ran off under the cover of smoke: ‘Two men were obviously hit and lying exposed in the open . . . they were considered dead but three bursts were fired at them with obvious effect but producing no movement. One man who had taken refuge in what appeared to be a shell-hole, attempted to crawl out, was obviously hit by a rifle bullet and fell backwards.’
5
The division’s gunners were soon embroiled in battle as well. The two forward troops of the 17th Field Regiment Royal Artillery fired 1,289 rounds of high explosive in the course of a single day. Previously, the regiment had laid claim to being the first British gunners to fire shells into German territory when they had gone into action on 6 May. Yet this activity came at a price and they lost one man killed, three wounded and one man with shell shock as a result of bombing and enemy counter battery fire. Peter Royle, a lieutenant serving with the regiment, recalled the incident: ‘I well remember seeing my first dead man as one of E troops’ trucks came back through our positions with a dead gunner on board. He was covered by an army blanket but his boots stuck out and the sight of these haunted me for days.’
6
During this period the light tanks of the Lothian and Borders Yeomanry also had their first taste of action. At 6.30 p.m. on 11 May they took part in a reconnaissance patrol through woodland in front of the division’s positions. They were soon spotted by the enemy. As one tank commander later recorded, they advanced along a road before veering off cross-country:This meant crashing through some barbed wire. We skirted round the left-hand corner of the wood about thirty yards out, and eighty yards between tanks. There was a considerable amount of shelling and gun fire . . . Made a quick inspection of the tank. I found that the camouflage net had been set alight by the exhaust and was burning . . . Shells were bursting very close and my spotlight was blown off. At this point my tank got bogged and I found the crew of number 3 tank hanging on to the outside. Whilst getting into position the number 2 tank got bogged, endeavouring to tow us out.
Still under fire, the crew worked quickly to put wood under tracks to grip in the mud, but just minutes later they got bogged down again. Realizing the dangers of remaining in the open, they left the tanks, first removing the firing mechanism from the guns. The next day they returned to fetch the tank, only to discover the towrope was caught in its tracks. As they attempted to free the tangled ropes they were again shelled by the enemy. This time it was with deadly results, leaving one man dead and one wounded. Efforts were also made to locate the other tank that had been lost the previous day: ‘No. 2 tank was found in the morning to be well out in no man’s land. It was visited. Both tracks were off, one could not be found. The tank had been hit by a shell, the turret was twisted, and no doors could be opened.’
7
Casualties continued to mount in the days that followed. Lieutenant Peter Royle later wrote of his memories of enemy artillery fire: ‘This was the first time I had experienced shellfire at fairly close range and I soon began to know by the whining each shell made as it came towards me exactly where it would land – in front or behind. On this, my first night under fire, my fear was tinged with a certain amount of excitement because it was something new. The more I was shelled during the war the more frightening it became and the less exciting.
8
The long-term effects of this eventually led Peter Royle to experience battle-fatigue during the campaign at Monte Cassino in Italy in 1944. He was evacuated back to the UK and spent the rest of the war in an artillery training regiment.
The division took ninety casualties in three days, with doctors performing fifty operations. On 13 May the Seaforths lost one man killed and two wounded when a fighting patrol ran into a German patrol. The same day the Black Watch suffered the deaths of three men with a further six wounded. As the Germans continued with their ‘aggressive patrolling’ the men of the 4th Black Watch reported enemy troops using flamethrowers in attacks on forward positions. David Mowatt recalled how the deaths of comrades initially had a major effect on the newly blooded infantrymen: ‘My friend Murdo MacRae was the first to be killed in the battalion. We were mates, we’d been called up together and used to share our cigarettes. We were in the line and the Sergeant Major sent me on a stupid errand. I went to the Sergeant at Company HQ and said, “You wanted to see me.” He told me he hadn’t called for me. While I was gone they were burying my mate.’ It was a sensitivity that was soon washed away in the tide of violence that followed.
The tanks of the Lothian and Borders Yeomanry were also soon back in battle as they were sent to support the troops in the forward posts. Once more, they came within range of determined enemy gunners:No. 1 tank came into the view of the enemy and we were fired at by an anti-tank gun, one shot hitting the track and wounding Cpl Akers, the gunner, in the leg. We tried to turn right and get under cover, but probably the track came off and the turret was out of control. Cpl Akers made a gallant effort to turn the turret so that I could get the gun into action, but at that moment we were hit by HE coming through the turret, killing Cpl Akers instantaneously and jamming the guns.
9
Then the number-two tank was hit, killing the commander and disabling the guns. The remaining crewmen got out and valiantly engaged an enemy patrol with their revolvers before wandering in the Grossenwald Forest and both getting wounded by shrapnel, until they were finally located by stretcher-bearers.
Although the men in the forward positions did not know it, the war was not going well for the British and French. Though they were standing firm against probing enemy attacks and aggressive patrols, it was a far cry from the vicious blitzkrieg inflicted elsewhere. With the entire front in danger of collapsing, Highland Division were told they were to pull out from their positions in the
ligne de contact
and join the French reserve – ready to be sent wherever they would be needed to stem the Nazi advance.
On 15 May the withdrawal commenced, although it would be some days before all the British units were fully disengaged. As the 7th Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders pulled back towards the
ligne de recueil
they found the enemy in hot pursuit. Two men were killed and six wounded as the final platoons pulled back. It was not until the 23rd that the French 33rd Infantry arrived to take over positions from 2nd Seaforths.
At first the division withdrew to positions just in front of the Maginot Line and then moved back safely to the rear. As the division pulled back, many among the troops were astonished by what they witnessed. France was under attack but behind the front life seemed to continue as normal. John Christie, a twenty-year-old artillery signaller, who a year before had been a bus driver in Aberdeen, found his regiment passing through a town whose population was making the most of the warm, early summer weather: ‘People were gathered at what was obviously a type of Lido, bathing and basking in the warm sunshine of the afternoon. I remember thinking at the time, how can they be so calm and relaxed as if the war was a thousand miles away instead of just up the road.’
10
The calm was deceptive. Christie and his colleagues were heading into the unknown – retreating towards an unknown destination, oblivious to the chaos and confusion that was engulfing the rest of the British Army. Stranger still, considering the desperate situation being experienced by the BEF in Flanders, on 24 May the 51st Division became part of the French reserve. The sanctuary of these rear positions did not last long. The war caught up with the men of the Middlesex Regiment – a machine-gun battalion attached to the division – on a break during the withdrawal, as machine-gunner Jim Pearce remembered:We didn’t stop long anywhere. We were pulling back all the time, we’d had no contact with the Germans yet. I was wondering what was going to happen, but we just accepted it. Then the Germans dive bombed us one time. I was having a shower. I ran downstairs, got dressed and got my rifle. I ran out and people were firing rifles at them – I don’t know why, it never did any good, we never got any of them. They bombed all around us. It was the first time we’d been under fire. It made me think the war was catching up with us.
It was soon clear to all that the German advance was too fast and the situation too fluid for units to remain out of action for long. They were needed at the front and orders soon came for the division to relocate, joining the French 2nd Army in northern France. The move was confusing for the troops – they had been informed they were heading towards the front but everywhere they went there seemed to be French troops heading in the opposite direction. Yet, day by day the Highlanders continued to move, passing through Gisors and Sézanne, crossing the River Bresle, until on 1 June they reached the line of the River Somme near Abbeville. It was just miles from where men like Eric Reeves and Ken Willats had ‘gone into the bag’ almost two weeks earlier.
With the rest of the British Army reeling back towards Dunkirk and the French seemingly on the verge of collapse, it was little wonder the Highlanders found their movements misted by chaos and confusion. The officers of the 6th Battalion Royal Scots Fusiliers searched desperately for information about the division so they could link up with them. Adrift in a fog of conflicting orders and instructions, their commanding officer later described how he felt the 51st Division had neglected them: ‘They do not seem the least bit interested in us or our affairs.’
11
When they finally reached Neufchâtel he again looked back and contemplated the extraordinary situation they were in: ‘Still no word from 51 Div, nor is it possible to get in touch with them . . . So ends the most extraordinary move. 400 miles across France without one intelligible order from anyone. Whole division practically lost during this time.’
12
This sense of confusion was shared throughout the division. It was normal for the other ranks to be ignorant of the situation but their officers expected to be kept abreast of their orders. The Lothian and Borders Yeomanry travelled in three separate groups as they moved north ready to join the French. The party taking their tanks by rail were told they were being moved to an unknown destination, but should be prepared to be attacked by both air and ground forces during the journey. On the 25th the advance party arrived at Vitry. Here they discovered they were less than welcome. It had been badly damaged by enemy bombers and the officer in charge of the town was found to be inefficient and excitable, seemingly desperate to force the troops away as quickly as possible. Moving swiftly on to Gisors, they soon discovered the road party was lost and the rail party was fifteen hours late.
Finally arriving at St Léger, the exhausted men bedded down for the night in an empty house. They were soon rudely awakened. In the middle of the night Major-General Fortune arrived, also looking for a bed. He was heard opening doors, then moving on once he realized all the rooms were occupied. Heading to the top floor, he was heard to say: ‘Come on David, we’ll get fixed up in here anyway.’ Instead, upon reaching the top floor he discovered two officers in the only bed and another one sprawled across the landing. The next morning the general told the astonished officers: ‘As a matter of interest this is Divisional HQ.’
13
The officers were in for a further surprise when they asked an intelligence officer on the HQ staff if he knew where the rest of their unit were. He was unable to answer, but Major-General Fortune later kindly informed the advance party they were in completely the wrong location.
Such gentlemanly encounters masked the reality of the desperate situation faced by the 51st Division. They were attached to a foreign army, were part of a collapsing coalition and were growing increasingly isolated by the withdrawal of the rest of the BEF from Dunkirk. But such details meant little to the men in the front lines. All knew they were members of regiments with proud traditions – ones that were shared by their divisional commander. It seemed clear they would soon be making a stand.
Arriving near the line of the River Somme, the division began to ready itself for the inevitable action. Initially the Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders advanced in the wake of French troops attempting to retake Abbeville, taking over positions previously occupied by a French cavalry unit. Once in position, they were shelled by the enemy. This was not a barrage intended to harm them but something more ominous. They were registration shells, aimed at ensuring the enemy had their range ready for when they would bombard the positions in advance of their inevitable assault. It was a taste of what was to come. The message was reinforced when two men in civilian clothes entered their lines. They were anti-aircraft gunners who had become separated from their unit, dressed in civilian clothes, then swam the Somme in an attempt to rejoin their unit. They reported to the Argylls that significant enemy forces were concentrating on the opposite bank of the river.
Outside Abbeville, a platoon of Seaforth Highlanders took up position in a graveyard. They had a wonderful view across the gently rolling country – for two or three miles they had a clear view of anyone who approached towards the British line. It was from this location that Jim Reed spotted the enemy advancing in their direction. At first they were nothing but dots on the horizon. Soon it was clear that men and vehicles were coming towards them. The tense infantrymen kept low in their slit trenches, not wanting to reveal their position, not wanting to fire until their bullets would have maximum effect. It was simply a matter of holding fire until the enemy were caught in a trap – except that one soldier had other ideas:This reservist couldn’t wait. They were still a couple of hundred yards away. He stood up and started firing. He was pleased with himself. I said, ‘You’ll bring some shit down on us now.’ He said, ‘No, they won’t have seen that.’ But a couple of minutes later they got our range with mortars and they were dropping all around us. Fortunately we got a recall. But he never learned his lesson, he got killed two or three days later doing the same thing. If he’d kept still – keep quiet till you can kill them without them seeing you – he’d have been OK. It was foolish, that’s how most of them got killed. Some learn, others don’t. Luckily I was learning by then.