Dunkirk: The Men They Left Behind (16 page)

The story was the same across the divisional area. It was clear the vast enemy forces ranged against them would soon close in for the kill. One artillery unit reported the chilling sight of enemy bombers passing just fifty feet (fifteen metres) above their heads. Others reported bombers and fighters circling their positions as if just waiting for the order to attack. Furthermore, every battalion commander in the division found his men stretched out over a front that seemed far too large to defend. The tanks of A Troop of the Lothian and Borders Yeomanry were assigned a 2,000-yard front, with just sixty-five men and three carriers. To bolster their defences they positioned an abandoned French tank in the line, hoping its puny 2-pound gun might help to ward off any enemy advance.

On 30 May a reconnaissance patrol of the Lothian and Borders Yeomanry set out to recce the area between the towns of Eu and St-Valery-sur-Somme. They were informed the enemy had a bridgehead over the Somme but were given no further information as to how far their advance units had penetrated. It was an eerie experience for the crews as they drove across a landscape where signs of war were predominantly the graveyards and memorials to the victims of the Great War. Even when they found bridges prepared for demolition there were no Allied troops anywhere to be seen. But they did locate telephone wires that had seemingly been cut by enemy troops. Furthermore they met civilians who informed them the Germans were so confident of victory they had borrowed bathing suits and gone swimming in the sea. Chillingly, the civilians also reported approximately 1,000 German soldiers in St-Valery-sur-Somme. The only signs of Allied activity were a few French marines, armed with nothing heavier than rifles, who were occupying a lighthouse, while at Le Tréport they discovered a handful of British troops hanging around in the town square. Their only contribution had been to open all the swing bridges to hold up the German advance.

Here it was intended they would make a stand and attempt to counterattack the enemy forces to their north. On 4 June, as the final survivors of the Dunkirk perimeter were being rounded up, the men of 152 and 153 Brigades went on the offensive. With the support of French tanks, they advanced upon the enemy bridgehead over the River Somme. Like so many attacks launched in the weeks before, it was a failure, despite the furious efforts of the artillery to support them with the gunners of the 17th Field Regiment firing nearly 650 rounds in just three hours. Nearly 600 fighting men were lost from 152 Brigade, with the 4th Seaforths and 4th Cameron Highlanders taking the bulk of the casualties, as the French tanks were picked off one by one by determined German anti-tank gunners.

It was the first serious action the Seaforths had seen. For Jim Reed the story of the battle had begun the previous evening when his sergeant had informed them they would be going into action the next morning. They would be advancing with fixed bayonets – a sure sign they could expect close contact with the enemy:We had tea in the early morning, were given picks and shovels and then we advanced. We reached the edge of this wood quite easily. Then the trouble started. We’d thrown away the shovels – we couldn’t carry these big things and carry a rifle with fixed bayonet. We came under a bit of fire then we got halfway through the wood and it started to get a bit heavy. We could hear tanks battling away at the other side of the wood. Then we got some really heavy stuff coming down on us, but having thrown our picks and shovels away we had to try to dig in using our bayonets. The shelling lasted for about two hours. We lost about half a dozen men killed from our platoon and quite a few were wounded. That’s a lot for one platoon. I remember at the end I went looking for my mates because we’d all scattered. I found one of my friends who’d had his throat torn out. But you soon forget it because after that we got in quite a few skirmishes.

The attack was the first time the Highlanders were thrown into a major action. It was a day that had a profound effect on each man, as David Mowatt remembered:I shot a couple of Jerries. I was going along the riverbank and there was a platoon of them on the other side – so I had a couple of bangs at them. Then they scarpered – but I’m bloody sure I hit them because I was ‘dead-eye dick’. I thought ‘I’ve got to get you first mate!’ We were taught ‘shoot first, ask questions later’. You were a soldier and your rifle was your best friend – that man over the other side isn’t! But that was the only time I fired my rifle. As the company runner I had other work to do. At another point I saved my mate’s life – Eckie MacPherson. I’d just come back from an errand and I bumped into him in an orchard. I heard a shell coming over – I shouted, ‘Down Eckie!’ I threw myself down. The shell landed and blew Eckie high up into the air. God knows how high he went. He landed – bang – exactly where he’d been standing. He was out cold – I got underneath him and lifted him. I carried him down to the aid post. I said to the orderly, ‘Careful with him, he’ll fall to pieces.’ I couldn’t look at him. I told the medic what had happened and he said, ‘By God! He’s lucky to be alive.’ Every year until he died Eckie’d be at the regimental reunion with a glass of whisky waiting for me and say, ‘Here’s to the man who saved my life.’

The following day the Germans made a determined effort to push the Highlanders back from the Somme. The 7th Battalion Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders were particularly hard hit at Franleu. It was later described as the ‘blackest day in the history of the regiment.’
¹⁴
The Germans launched their attack in the early hours of the morning. When the news reached battalion HQ they at first believed it to be patrol activity, but the men who were sent to investigate found large numbers of enemy troops surrounding the village. Communication for the Argylls became difficult as the enemy cut telephone wires around the village.

It soon became clear the entire position was under threat and the Bren gun carriers were positioned around the HQ as a final line of defence. With enemy snipers infiltrating into the village, anti-sniper patrols were sent out. The situation deteriorated as the artillery HQ in the village of Ochancourt was captured, leaving the Argylls without effective support.

In the confusion the reserve company was sent forward but didn’t know the way and was soon lost. When one officer got out of his truck to check a signpost he was shot in the back by a sniper and severely wounded. With its last hope lost on the way to the village, the battalion HQ came under fire from heavy mortars. Some relief was felt when the heavy machine-guns of the Royal Northumberland Fusiliers were heard engaging the enemy. The respite was short lived and at 4.15 a.m. they saw the green-white-green-white flare that signalled someone’s position was surrounded. From the C Company positions the troops could see around 1,000 enemy forming up on three sides of them. Elsewhere D Company were attacked first by enemy cavalry, then by light tanks backed up by cavalry and motorcyclists. The company’s Bren gunners did sterling work, ensuring that short, accurate bursts were enough to prevent the enemy from crossing open areas, but it was not enough to turn the tide of battle. From the observation post in a church tower enemy mortars were spotted being brought up on horse-drawn wagons, accompanied by more troops arriving by truck. The newly arrived mortars took a serious toll, concentrating their fire on the battalion HQ and on the hedgerows concealing the Bren gun positions. Their deadly fire soon destroyed the wireless truck and one of the ammunition lorries. As the high explosive rained down, the wounded were sent into the HQ cellar. Here they received little assistance since there was no one to treat them, the medical staff having earlier been evacuated as the result of a confused signal. The bearers attempted to stem the bleeding and make them comfortable, helped by the valiant padre, Captain MacInnes. When enemy snipers were picking off men collecting water, he had insisted on being the only one allowed outside. As the day progressed, the men in forward positions were issued with chocolate and water as their only sustenance.

At 2 p.m., with the sounds of the neighbouring battalions under heavy attack, the Argylls could see a large formation of troops massing nearby. At first it was hoped the 1,200 soldiers were the expected relief from the Black Watch. They soon discovered these were enemy forces preparing for a final assault upon the village. For the rest of the afternoon A Company and the HQ were able to continue to defend their position in Franleu. Enemy advances on the village were repulsed thanks to a section of Royal Northumberland Fusiliers machine-gunners and the sterling work of a single mortar crew.

Relief was attempted by French tanks and a detachment of Black Watch but these were unable to advance due to enemy resistance. At 5 p.m., with all hope of relief extinguished, a mortar bomb struck the last remaining ammo truck, blowing up and flattening the area around the HQ. Major Younger, who had organized the defence, was hit in the head and eye. Captain Robertson was hit in the leg, and forced to bandage his own legs. Lieutenant Mackay, who had organized the observation post and arranged the feeding of the men, was peppered with shrapnel. RSM Lockie, who had led the earlier anti-sniper patrols, was also hit and CSM Dyer was severely wounded in the arms and legs.

With their situation desperate, the Argylls were ordered to withdraw to the village of Bouvaincourt. The difficulty was that the forward companies were unable to disengage and retreat – indeed they could not even be contacted. The surrounded B Company were unable to withdraw and nothing more was heard from them.

At 6 p.m. Colonel Buchanan, realizing the situation was hopeless, gave permission for any men who wished to attempt to break out. Two carriers were able to get away, as did some trucks crammed with men, many of whom were wounded. Some platoons never received the message since they were cut off in the village. All of C Company, whose position faced the main thrust of the assault, were posted as missing. Only the colonel and the padre were left unwounded. Having spent all day offering comfort to the wounded, MacInnes refused to leave them to their fate. At the end of the day he remained inside, along with thirty wounded, the colonel, the French liaison officer and other officers. Mortar bombs continued to land around the HQ and soon all the trucks around it were ablaze.

In the days that followed it became clear the battalion had been mauled beyond belief. Only D Company, minus the platoon that had earlier fired the surrounded signal, and some from the battalion HQ had been able to extract themselves and withdraw. By the end of that one day’s fighting the battalion had lost twenty-three officers and 500 other ranks killed, wounded or missing.

That same day the Lothian and Borders Yeomanry also found themselves under attack. At first it was just patrols who advanced on their positions. Their initial approach took them towards the abandoned French tank. Realizing the British troops were waiting, the first German soldier raised his hands in surrender – until one of his comrades shot him for being cowardly. The second German soldier was then shot by waiting men and the patrol scattered. With the Germans safely behind a ridge, the French gun was used to fire over the ridge where they believed the enemy to be. So far so good – or so it seemed. A patrol was sent to make contact with the forward posts, but it never returned.

With the enemy far from beaten, heavy artillery fire struck their positions, as one of the officers later recorded: ‘After each burst I heard groans. Finally it stopped. At least three men had been killed and about fifteen wounded. Two carriers were loaded and sent off . . . whilst the last carrier was being loaded and the wounded attended to, the Germans appeared at very close range running and firing tommy guns . . . somehow all the wounded and all the guns were got away, there were nine on the last carrier.’
¹⁵
The intense fire took its toll on both the physical and mental resources of the regiment. Cohesive activity and coherent thought were impossible as the troops struggled to stay alive. In the haste to withdraw, some men, positioned in relative safety within a house, did not hear the order to retreat and were left behind. By the time the mistake had been noticed it was too late to go back and the men were abandoned to their fate.

Soon enemy dive bombers joined in the fray, their bombs screaming down on to the tanks and crews assembled in the village of Ballilleul: ‘Result – little left.’
¹⁶
One of the regiment’s squadrons lost forty men out of a total of just sixty-five. As one officer of the regiment later noted: ‘All ranks discovered the use of a hole in the ground, the deeper and narrower the better.’
¹⁷

Despite the losses suffered by the division that day, the Highlanders’ ordeal was far from over; 4 June may have seen the end of the Dunkirk evacuation but in Normandy the Highlanders were only at the beginning of their ordeal. Whether infantrymen, tank crews, pioneers, drivers or gunners – officers, NCOs or riflemen – every man of the division was in the firing line. The gunners of the 17th Field Regiment had initially been firing at targets over 8,000 yards away. The range had fallen to 6,000 yards, then fallen again to find themselves firing at targets to their left and right. Eventually the targets they were given were to their rear. At Escarbotin one battery of the regiment found themselves virtually surrounded and firing incessantly at a rapid rate. Unable to fight on, they took the firing mechanism from the guns and withdrew on the gun tractors. Elsewhere C Troop were sent with rifles and Bren guns to help protect A Troop, who were firing at the enemy at point-blank range. Despite the help, they were soon surrounded and captured. Another battery reported coming under mortar fire at a range of 1,000 yards while enemy machine-gunners fired at them from the rear. With further resistance pointless, one battery gave a surprisingly cheery final message over the wireless: ‘Cheerio, coming to join you.’
¹⁸

As the gunners pulled back they came under attack from the air. Peter Royle later wrote of the experience: ‘I lay on my back in the open field and watched the JU87s screaming down vertically before loosing off their bombs and zooming away. I watched the bombs leave each plane – sometimes two, sometimes four, at a time – and they always seemed to be aimed at me personally. Of course they never were, and I always breathed a sigh of relief when they went on and hit somebody else.’
¹⁹