8
Operation ‘Aubery’; the attack on Port-en-Bessin— 7 June 1944
47 Royal Marine Commando was assigned the task of force-marching twelve miles west to seize the small harbour of Port-en-Bessin (11 km west of Arromanches-les-Bains), which would become the main port for fuel deliveries to Normandy until Cherbourg had been liberated.
CSgt Fred Batt, HQ-Troop:
The Second in Command now decided to move inland and skit the village which was causing delay so this plan was immediately put into effect and we commenced our days foraging. Many delays were experienced on our track but apart from one incident where we were shelled in a road we encountered nothing more serious than snipers and machine gun nests. All around us we could see krauts hurdling over the countryside and belches of flame as their guns cracked. Our own little battle progressed very well and the interludes of snipers and machine guns served to enliven what would otherwise have been a very dull march. We were continually receiving prisoners from the head of the column and also enemy who came out of hiding as we passed. All this approach march ended at approximately 1930 when we were in an orchard in the village of La Rosière. Here the CO [who had resumed command during the approach march] gave his orders to Tp Cdrs and we proceeded on our way to our final objective PORT-EN-BESSIN. This march in the gathering dusk was a tribute to the training in map reading which had been given, as never once in a complex route of hedge ways and narrow tracks were we compelled to turn back as we were off our way. As we approached HILL 72 the fighter aircraft were heavily bombing and strafing the remnants of the enemy there and our leading troop seized this feature without any difficulty or loss. The time was now almost midnight, it was a pitch black night, we had not stopped during the day and were extremely pleased in the knowledge that during that day we had traversed some 15 miles of enemy territory and our plan was working well. Within a very short time every man was hard at work with entrenching tool, digging for himself a pit in which he could shelter if necessary. Look outs were posted and we settled to await the dawn.
Map showing approximate route taken by 47 RM Commando for Operation Aubery.
L/Cpl Frank Wright, X-Troop:
Another hour later 47 Commando was finally on the move after working its way through the battle that was raging between the Hampshires and Dorsets of 50 Div and the German defenders who seemed to be resisting strongly and contesting every house. We had passed sad little scenes of dead and wounded on our journey so far.
X-Troop was to be lead troop all day. We advanced in single files, one either side of the road and about three paces between men. I was in the right hand file. My sub-section always seemed to be up front. Whether that was because someone thought we had the sharpest eyes and ears or were considered expendable I never found out. Probably neither. Every ten minutes or so we rotated the order of march.
High hedgerows gave good cover.
They were also good cover for an ambush but we didn’t expect one of those just yet. We stretched our legs, sounds of small-arms fire from Le Hamel receded.
In no time we were marching down a long village street lined with villas and some bungalows—all tightly shuttered and silent. Not any sign of life. No pets. No children coming out to play. Yet I had the feeling that we were being closely watched. I think the village was probably Asnelles-sur-mer.
At the end of the street on the left was a high stone wall enclosing the grounds of a large, imposing house. I could see elegantly shaped turrets and oriel windows through gaps in the trees.
Eventually we came abreast of the entrance. There were fine tall wrought iron gates and through them could be seen a freshly-raked sweeping drive up to the front entrance. On either side of the drive were neat borders, meticulously trimmed, and flowering shrubs.
From the drive steps led up to the porch where two heavy columns supported a stone pediment—everything in immaculate condition and in sharp contrast to the peeling paint and cheerful scruffiness of the village houses.
The reason for this contrast was just dawning on me when I realised there were two men standing, quite still and watching us, near the front entrance. They wore field grey uniforms, black hats and boots, officer’s insignia. One was calmly pulling on a pair of gloves, the other, a little closer, had a revolver in his hand, he raised his arm, slowly and deliberately, until he was aiming in our direction, and fired. Bang—clang—B z . z . z . z. the round struck part of the ornate decoration of the gate and ricocheted over our heads like an angry bee.
I stood there like a lemon, absolutely immobile. Marine Skinner was in the left-hand file. He was just outside the gate. Perhaps he took it personally, his rifle flew up and he fired off a round within seconds. As he did so he released a torrent of Glaswegian abuse the meaning of which required no translation.
The two officers, with smart footwork and a twirl of the skirts of their greatcoats were in retreat, they scuttled swiftly round the far corner of the building.
X-Troop pressed on—someone else would have to look after those two. Skinner was a hero for some time after that with promises of free drinks from everyone. I hope he survived the war, the last time I heard of him he had just been made up to Sgt.
Men of 47 RM Commando advancing 6 June 1944.
Mne John Wetjen, Q-Troop:
After what seemed an interminable time we moved off, the depleted troops Q and Y not in the van, much to their chagrin—obviously a good move though we didn’t agree. Q-Troop then suffered its first casualty on foreign soil—Lumsden was killed by a sniper. As planned, light opposition was overrun, otherwise we went round it. Again Q-Troop suffered casualties, this time caught in single file from the rear by a Jerry M/G Spandau, which wounded two NCOs and six Marines, mainly in the legs. This further depleted our Troop. I fell flat on my face and crawled towards a dense screen of nettles, it felt quite safe and they couldn’t see me, but on reflection I was very naïve. Luckily the firing stopped which, if it had continued, would have wiped out the rest of the Troop.
From air reconnaissance and reports from the French Resistance, plus the fact that our IO had secretly visited the area, it was obvious that a frontal attack would be costly in lives and materials and its achievement doubtful, because of the time it would take to overcome resistance. It was decided, therefore that a special force, chosen from 50th Division, should seize the port from the rear. Our Commando 47 was given this job. The port was heavily guarded with two features overlooking it on either side, with deep concrete emplacements with their guns pointing out to sea. So this was our role, to move behind the German lines across country via Le Hamel, keeping free of trouble as far as possible, and arriving at the rear of Port en Bessin at full strength. As the crow flies Le Hamel is approximately 6 miles from the Port, however, allowing for landing further down the coast and various detours across country, the actual distance would be some 12 to 14 miles, subject to any opposition which we would try to avoid.
Our force was depleted, short of weapons (though some had acquired German ones), parts of kit and clothing lost, without heavy weapons but full of hope and of course Esprit de Corps. However, the R.N. were to support us with their big guns when we reached the Port and the R.A.F. were going to give us a display of dive bombing—so it wasn’t all gloom and despondency!!!
Mne Ted ‘Ben’ Battley, B-Troop:
The incursion behind coastal defences by 47 RM Commando on D-Day 1944 is, for want of a better word, often referred to as ‘the march’.
To begin with, it was nothing like the trek to relieve Mafeking. Nor did it have any resemblance to the Royals’ yomp in the Falklands. It was a much more cautious affair. The very wet and bedraggled survivors of the landing gathered just off the beach to dry out, clean weapons, magazines etc. before making towards the Hampshire’s front line. The break-out came without hesitation or opposition. The Commando was on its own. Led by Capt. Ken Isherwood, a platoon from B-Troop spearheaded the advance. Among others at the sharp end were Sgt Lofty Gardiner, Cpl Toms, Marine Ted (‘Ben’) Battley (bren), Marine Roy Emsley MM (his No. 2), Marine Fred Lanyon MM, Marine Pat Plumb (mortar), and Cpl Albert Rutherford.
Avoiding roads where possible, Capt. Isherwood hugged the hedgerows, one eye on his compass, the other searching for potential hazards. It wasn’t long before one occurred.
Moving along a hedge, a sustained burst of automatic fire whipped overhead, much too close for comfort, then a pause and another long burst but Marine Battley had spotted the culprit and, with just two single shots with the bren, silenced him. The Spandau fires at a rate of 1,500 rounds per minute so about 250–300 rounds were fired at the platoon with not a single hit. Passing through the machine gunner’s position, evidence showed that he had not been alone and, since he was not going to use it again, Battley and Emsley collected his gun along with a few belts of ammo. The advance continued uninterrupted for a couple of miles until the platoon went to ground to allow a German military convoy to pass on a road 200 yards ahead.
Resuming a cautious trudge the Commando unavoidably encountered an open road. The leading section were about 100 yards along when a shot rang out. All dived into the field beside the road. Another shot revealed the source as a small copse in the next field beyond the intervening hedge. Although it was obviously not very heavily defended, it needed to be sorted before the Commando could proceed. One section dashed for the hedge and covered for another to join them. Nothing was fired at them but, while preparing for the final assault, a single shot came and hit the ammunition pouch of a marine, shattering a grenade which, fortunately, wasn’t primed. This writer has a clear visual memory of the incident, seeing his comrade scoop handfuls of shrapnel and powder from his pouch but, unfortunately, cannot remember who it was.