CHAPTER EIGHT
Lingèvres lies 7 miles south of Bayeux, on the D13 just west of Tilly-sur-Seulles. Bayeux had been captured by 50 (Northumbrian) Division, almost unopposed, on 7 June. The division had then advanced south-east towards Tilly. On 8 June, Panzer Lehr Division, one of the strongest and best armoured divisions in the German Army, arrived in the area after a hurried move from Chartres. Tilly was to be the fulcrum for much heavy fighting in the following weeks. The Germans used it as a launch-pad for attacks against the British, while for the British it became an important objective on the route towards Villers-Bocage and beyond. On 10 and 11 June 7 Armoured Division advanced on Tilly before, halted by fierce resistance in the area of Bucéels, it was redirected on the right hook which was to end in the disaster of Villers-Bocage on 13 June.
There was fierce fighting in the area of Lingèvres and Verrières, one mile to the north-east, on 12 and 13 June as the British tried to break through the German positions and push on south to link up with 7 Armoured Division’s advance on Villers-Bocage. But the defence of Panzer Lehr’s 901 Panzer-Grenadier Regiment held. On 14 June 151 Infantry Brigade of 50 Division was ordered to take these two villages. 151 Brigade consisted of three battalions of The Durham Light Infantry - 6, 8, and 9 DLI; tough Geordies, many of them from northern mining families. 6 DLI, with B Squadron 4th/7th Dragoon Guards, was to capture Verrières on the left. On the right Lingèvres was the objective of 9 DLI with A Squadron of 4/7 DG.
One glance at Lingèvres today shows that it has been largely rebuilt. This is hardly surprising - the war caught up with Lingèvres with fearsome brutality on 14 June 1944. But the basic configuration of the village remains unchanged, centred round its sturdy stone church, with the war memorial beside it. This was to be the centre of the battle. At the west end of the church is a small turning to the right, signed to Jouaye-Mondaye and Bayeux. Follow this road as it winds round a small field, over the stream, past a farm on the left and up a gentle rise, through typical Normandy woods and orchards, until you reach a small road and track junction in the middle of open fields, just half a mile from the village. Stop here and turn to face Lingèvres. You are now standing just forward of the British positions on the morning of 14 June 1944. The fields around you were ‘no-man’s land’. The Germans held the village and the woods north of it. But while everything is neat, tidy and prosperous today, the signs of war were obvious then. The road was unmetalled and churned up by the passage of many heavy military vehicles, so that the fields were covered with a thick layer of dust for several yards on either side. Smashed branches disfigured the trees, and the telephone lines hung down in loose tangles from broken poles. The most unpleasant and inescapable evidence of destruction was provided by the large number of dead cows which littered the fields. Killed by shellfire, blast or stray bullets, their carcasses lay rotting, till they swelled and finally burst, filling the summer air with that unique and sickly stench of death which lingers in the nostrils, and which no-one who fought in the Normandy campaign will ever forget. This was the scene for the battle for Lingèvres.
Rotting carcasses of dead cows - a typical field in Normandy in the summer of 1944.
‘A mighty concentration of fire.’ The 5.5 inch guns of 84 Medium Regiment Royal Artillery provided fire support for the attack on Lingèvres.
H Hour for the British attack was 1015. This was selected to ensure that 151 Brigade had the support of all the artillery that was in range - six field regiments, three medium regiments and one heavy regiment. On the right of 151 Brigade, 231 Brigade would also attack, at 1130, at which time this vast weight of artillery support would switch to support them.
9 DLI, commanded by Lieutenant Colonel Humphrey Wood, was an experienced and battle-hardened battalion, having fought in the Western Desert and Sicily. Since landing in Normandy a week earlier the battalion had been held in reserve. Indeed the only casualty sustained so far had been one sergeant drowned as they crossed the beach. This was to be their first taste of fighting in the ‘bocage’, its extensive cover and short fields of fire demanding quite different tactics from those required by the open spaces of the desert. The Geordies were about to learn the hard way.
Colonel Wood had sent out a few hastily-briefed patrols during the previous night, but, with so few hours of darkness in mid June, it had proved impossible to pinpoint the German positions, even though one patrol had managed to reach the edge of the village. Perhaps another 24 hours of patrolling and observation might have unlocked some of the secrets of the defences, but war seldom seems to offer the luxury of time. A decision by some senior commander that a place must be captured is almost always followed by a mad rush by those selected to carry out the attack. As with Hastings and the Green Howards’ attack up the Sunken Lane onto Point 102 before, so Wood and the Durhams must launch their attack with insufficient time to find out what confronted them.
Time, however, is usually much kinder to the defender, and 901 Panzer-Grenadier Regiment had used it well. They had cleared the approaches to the woods and orchards around Lingèvres and sited automatic weapons to bring down a deadly cross-fire onto these killing areas. Perhaps, if the Durhams had known more of the defences or had already tasted the problems of fighting in the ‘bocage’, they might have suggested to their brigade commander that a different plan, perhaps even a night attack, was adopted. But Wood was given little scope for ingenuity. He produced a simple plan. The battalion would advance in box formation, using the road as the centre-line of the attack. A Company would lead on the left; C on the right. Behind them the two reserve companies, B and D respectively, would be prepared to pass through the leading companies on the order of the commanding officer. Wood himself would travel behind A Company on the left, while his second-in-command, Major John Mogg, would follow C Company on the right.
British infantry advance - a Bren light machine gunner accompanied by two riflemen with bayonets fixed.
Unlike the Durhams, A Squadron 4/7DG, commanded by Major Jackie d’Avigdor-Goldsmid, had been in action almost continuously since landing on D Day The learning curve rises very sharply in battle, if you are to survive for long. 4/7DG had learnt much about the reality of war in that one week. From time to time officers and NCOs had to get out of their tanks to contact the infantry they were supporting. Anything that identified a commander attracted the German snipers in the close bocage country. So, map boards were dispensed with; brass badges of rank had been replaced by less obvious cloth; field glasses were stuffed down into tank overalls. A half turret flap was always left open, but commanders did not stay for long with their heads out of the turret. The regiment had developed excellent techniques for co-operating with the infantry. Infantrymen carried yellow fluorescent nylon triangles which, if need arose, could be strapped to a soldier’s pack so that supporting aircraft could pick out the forward line of friendly troops. They proved to have an admirable second use. When pinned down, a yellow blob, tied to a rifle barrel and waved above the corn, was an excellent way for the infantryman to indicate to a nearby tank crew where the enemy fire was coming from. And the tank crews had developed an effective way of dealing with enemy infantry in ditches or trenches - a manner which appeared in no official Manual of Instruction! On the 75mm shell was a small switch which could be turned by a sixpence or screwdriver to activate a ‘delay’ mechanism. The gunner would then fire low, aiming to strike the hard ground some 20 yards short of the target. The round would ricochet about 10 feet into the air and explode in a deadly shrapnel burst above the heads of the enemy.
‘Long lines of men advanced through the high corn, rifles pointing diagonally towards the sky.’
At 1015 9 DLI and A Squadron crossed their start-line, the forward edge of the woods about a mile north of Lingèvres, and began their advance across the open ground. Long lines of men advanced through the high corn, rifles pointing diagonally towards the sky. In front, columns of dust and masonry could be seen as the artillery subjected the village and neighbouring woods to a mighty concentration of fire, while overhead Typhoon aircraft added their rockets to the inferno. As always on such occasions it hardly seemed possible that any of the defenders could survive this terrible hammering.
Well-sited German machine-guns brought down a withering fire upon the advancing Durhams.
But survive they did. As the leading companies neared the woods on the northern edge of the village the rolling artillery barrage moved forward. As it did so the Germans came to life. First two tanks opened fire, and were engaged by the Shermans of A Squadron. Then the well-sited German machineguns, their arcs of fire linking across the open ground, brought down a withering fire upon the advancing Durhams. Men fell, including the two artillery Forward Observation Officers who were at the very front of the attack, so that they could quickly switch artillery fire to neutralise troublesome enemy positions which threatened to hold up the advance.
‘Typhoon aircraft added their rockets to the inferno’ during the attack on Lingèvres.
On the left A Company, all their officers now casualties, ground almost to a halt. On the right C Company was still making progress, but slowly, with mounting casualties. Colonel Wood decided that the moment had come to push through his reserve companies. He told B Company to pass through A on the left, and take up the advance. No sooner had it done so than it, too, came under very heavy fire, losing all officers except one. It was clear that further advance on the left would be impossible. Wood therefore decided to switch the emphasis of the attack. He spoke to Major Mogg on the radio, ordered him to pass D Company through C on the right and to press on towards the village, while Wood himself tried to extricate A and B Companies and swing them round to the right as well. Barely had he given this order when a mortar bomb landed in the middle of his command group, killing Wood instantly and wounding his adjutant and signaller. Command of 9 DLI passed immediately to John Mogg.
Under Mogg’s direction D and C Companies pressed on towards the village, supported by the tanks of A Squadron. One alert Sherman hull gunner noticed an anti-tank gun set back from the edge of the woods. He shot it up with long bursts from his Browning machine-gun, and the crew took to their heels, their long greatcoats flapping incongruously around their legs in the hot morning sunshine. Doggedly the Geordies fought their way forward towards the village against defenders who were just as determined not to give ground. There was much hand-to-hand fighting, but the Durhams would not be denied. As they overcame the German positions they realised how the enemy had survived the artillery bombardment - by attaching string to the triggers of their machine-guns so that they could still maintain a deadly fire while sheltering in the bottom of their trenches. Eventually, and much reduced in numbers, the Durhams managed to break into the village.
Drive back down the road into Lingèvres. Notice the delightful farmyard on your right, by the bend in the road, which now sells Normandy Cidre and Calvados. This became Mogg’s HQ and the Regimental Aid Post of 9 DLI, once they had seized the village. It is hard to imagine, in that mile long journey through peaceful farmland, the grim reality of 9 DLI’s advance on the morning of 14 June 1944. Shortly before your road joins the main road just short of the church, there is a small parking area on the right. Park there and walk the 50 yards to the church, on the wall of which is a plaque commemorating the actions of 50th (Northumbrian) Division in Normandy. Stand at the west end of the church, able to see the war memorial in front and the main D 13 running west out of the village. Try to re-create in your mind the scene of destruction that must have greeted the Durhams as, after a fearsome fight through the woods behind you, they eventually secured that Lingèvres cross-roads around midday on D+8.
A Squadron, whose supporting fire had been so important to the Durhams as they fought their way forward, was quick to follow the infantrymen into the village, their guns engaging any target that presented itself. Plumes of dust, rising from the unmetalled road as the tanks ground their way forward, mingled with the dust and smoke from the stricken village, making vision difficult for drivers, commanders and gunners. 2nd Troop, in the lead, was held up near the entrance to the village, so Major d’Avigdor-Goldsmid ordered 4th Troop to take the lead. As Lieutenant Alastair Morrison, commanding 4th Troop, halted alongside his squadron leader’s tank, Goldsmid leant out and shouted, ‘Get on up to the bend in the road, find the Infantry Sunray and take your orders from him’. (Sunray was a term used on the radio to denote a commander, without revealing his level of command). At the same time he told Captain John Stirling, A Squadron’s second-in-command, to take the reserve troop and find a suitable position on the northwest edge of the village to guard against any enemy tank threat from the that direction.
A Sherman moving up in support of the infantry passes a wrecked Mk IV.
Looking along the track Morrison could see the Durhams moving along the hedgerows towards the village. He ordered his driver to advance. As they approached the infantry a young captain stepped out from the side of the track and waved down the tank. Morrison stopped and jumped down from his tank. The captain was brief and to the point. ‘We are going to capture the village and then hold it.’ he said quickly, pointing towards the church, ‘Give us maximum support. We are moving now.’ Without waiting for a reply he hurried off to lead the attack. Nor was any discussion necessary. Morrison, now the ‘veteran’ of a week of continuous fighting, most of it in co-operation with infantry, knew exactly what was required. He climbed back into his Sherman and moved slowly down the road, followed by Corporal Johnson’s tank, while Sergeant Harris, with his 17-pounder Firefly, covered them forward.
Morrison rounded the bend where the road drops down to the stream with the farm on the right. Ahead of them, through the smoke and dust of an almost completely destroyed village, he could see the infantrymen fighting their way forward. The weight of fire provided by tanks in close support of infantry is immense. The 75mm guns blasted holes in the houses, while the machine guns laid a blanket of fire on likely enemy positions. But it is not just the tanks’ fire effect itself which is so valuable to assaulting infantry. Attacking a village like Lingèvres the infantryman feels especially vulnerable; every house can contain a sniper with his aim carefully laid. It is the threat to that sniper that the tank provides which most assures him. His confidence and morale are immeasurably increased by the presence of tanks in such a situation.
German mortar fire was coming down in the village, causing many casualties among the unprotected infantry Shell splinters and bullets clanged off the tank’s sides as Morrison manoeuvred his tank into a position near the church. He ordered Harris to cover the main road east towards Tilly while Johnson covered the road to Verrières, which, though under attack by 6 DLI, was still held by the enemy.
Breaking into the village may have been hard enough for the Durhams, but there was worse to come. They must now clear it and then hold it against enemy counter-attack. And 901 Panzer Grenadier Pegiment showed no intention of giving it up without a real fight. Every street, house and room had to be fought for. The battle for Lingèvres was to be long, bitter and confused, lasting all afternoon. The high, rapid zip of German Spandau fire contrasted with the slower hammering of the British Bren-guns and the frequent explosions of grenades. And clearly German artillery had the range of the village, as they fired high-explosive shells which burst in the air above the war memorial, showering shrapnel around and knocking slates and masonry off the church, were it fell on the luckless men below. Hot, dusty and exceedingly dangerous, the centre of Lingèvres was a most unhealthy place to be on the afternoon of 14 June 1944.
A Bren-gunner of the Durham Light Infantry.
Lingèvres - the direction of the attack and positions taken up after the village had been taken.
It was not long before action started at the east end of the village. From an excellent position behind the ruins of a cottage Sergeant Harris caught a glimpse of tank movement across a small valley. A minute later his 17-pounder gun fired and a Panther tank immediately burst into flames. This success was a real tonic for the infantry who were digging in in the area after their grim battle for the village. Shortly afterwards Goldsmid came on the radio to tell Morrison that ‘Friendly Sunray is on his way up’. Morrison was to meet him at the western end of the chuch. Climbing out of his tank turret, Morrison jumped down and ran quickly into the church through a large hole that had been blown in the side wall. Nowhere was safe in Lingèvres, but at least by walking down the aisle to the west door he was afforded some protection by the solidly-built church walls.
Emerging through the west door, Morrison realised the real extent of the Durhams’ casualties, which seemed to be ever increasing. Propped against the church wall, which was at least on the ‘home’ side of the village and therefore protected from small-arms fire, was a line of dead and wounded, which seemed constantly to increase as more casualties were brought in by men who then quickly returned to their area of responsibilty. As Morrison waited the arrival of ‘the friendly Sunray’ he saw a Bren-gun carrier race up the road by which 4th Troop had entered the village. The driver skid-turned his carrier on arrival and backed it in beside the church. Single-handed he loaded it with wounded men and then drove off - slowly, this time, so as not to jolt his passengers unnecessarily - back down the road to the large farmyard beside the bend in the road, where the Durham’s Medical Officer had clearly established a make-shift Aid Post. The driver was to make this solitary and dangerous journey many times that afternoon, seemingly oblivious of the constant shelling. As afternoon drew towards evening the inevitable end came. The carrier stood stationary in the road, its devoted driver and his last cargo still and silent where a shell-burst had killed them all. Morrison, never knew his name, but he never forgot that driver, nor the medical orderly who worked tirelessly throughout the day looking after casualties beside the church. These were among the unsung heroes of war - men who, regardless of their own safety, saved the lives of many, though eventually they lost theirs.
German 88mm gun firing in support of infantry.
The Regimental Aid Post of the Durhams, after the battle. The soldiers receiving treatment is a captured German.
As Morrison stood by the church wall a tall, dust-covered, broad-shouldered major strode up the road towards him. There was an obvious air of authority about him - clearly this was the expected Sunray. ‘Are you commanding the company here?’ asked Morrison when they met. ‘No,’ said John Mogg with a grin, ‘I’m bloody well commanding the battalion! Now, show me where your tanks are deployed.’ His cheerful, unconcerned manner was a real tonic. After a short discussion Mogg walked on into the village, leaving the troop leader reassured that at least there was someone in Lingèvres who was about to take a firm grip on the battle.
Although Morrison did not know it, Mogg’s air of easy confidence was based on sound training rather than previous combat experience. Unlike most of 9 DLI Mogg had not fought in the desert and Sicily. Indeed he had only joined the battalion as second-in-command one week before D Day from commanding a Battle School in England. This move had involved a change of cap badge as his original regiment was The Oxfordshire and Buckinghamshire Light Infantry. But he was not the sort of man to let lack of battle experience bother him, and he quickly imposed his personality on the battle of Lingèvres. By now most of the German infantry had been driven out of the village, so Mogg sent D Company to take up a position astride the road running east towards Tilly. Weakened by casualties, the company was now organised as two platoons, which were sited on either side of the road. C Company, now reduced to little over one platoon strength, was sent to do likewise on the Longraye road to the south, while A and B Companies, which had suffered most heavily in the early advance across the open cornfields, were held in reserve near the back of the village.
Having assured himself that the defence was properly coordinated, Mogg went to find the artillery commander, Major Ken Swann. Together they worked out a defensive fire plan for the village. This was to prove invaluable throughout the rest of the day as Swann ensured that every German counter-attack was greeted with quick, heavy and accurate artillery fire. (Major Swann was killed three days later. His grave, with many of the others who died in Lingèvres that day, is in the Commonwealth War Graves Commission Cemetery at Tilly-sur-Seulles.) Mogg’s final task was to call up the battalion’s anti-tank guns and place them to cover all the roads leading into the village.
From his position near the church Morrison watched the antitank guns arrive; 6-pounder guns towed by high-sided carriers called Dragons. Two of these rumbled laboriously by, on their way to join C Company on the Longraye road. On arrival the crews unhitched the guns and sited them facing down the road, before stacking boxes of ammunition in the nearby doorways. Hardly had they done so, and the Dragons withdrawn, when there was a loud ‘crump’ from the direction of Tilly. Morrison looked up to see one of the guns lying on its side in the ditch, its crew dead beside it. A second ‘crump’, and the second gun and its crew were flung into the air like discarded toys. Almost immediately Sergeant Harris, who was covering east, reported on the radio that he thought he could see a tank approaching from Tilly. A few seconds later he confirmed excitedly that it was indeed a tank, moving very fast, and that it seemed to be a Sherman. Soon Morrison could see it too; definitely a Sherman, presumably from B Squadron, which was supporting 6 DLI’s attack on Verrières, and had over-run its objective. Suddenly, and shortly before reaching the village, the Sherman swung sharp right up a track, revealing, close behind it, a German Panther. Harris was not fooled. He gave a quick order to Trooper MacKillop his gunner and a round from the 17-pounder smashed into the Panther, knocking off a track and sending it swerving into the hedge beside the road, where it lay canted at an angle half off the road.
MacKillop’s shot had disabled the Panther, but not put its gun out of action. Mogg considered that it still posed a real threat which must be dealt with. It would clearly be unwise for Harris’ tank to drive openly down the road to engage it; it was a job for the Durhams. He decided to take out a tank-hunting party himself, with a sergeant and private from the nearby D Company and a PIAT anti-tank weapon. Stealthily and slowly they crept towards the disabled tank until they got within about 15 yards of it, undetected. Instructed by Mogg the PIAT-gunner balanced his weapon on a convenient bank. ‘Right,’ said Mogg tensely, ‘When I say ‘fire’, fire!’ The Geordie looked at him with horror, and eventually mumbled: ‘But I don’t know how to fire the bloody thing, sir!’
Mogg could hardly believe his ears - perhaps the man had collected the PIAT from another who had become a casualty earlier. He looked at the sergeant; ‘I can’t either, sir!’ Mogg made a few terse comments as he shouldered the PIAT himself, took careful aim and, with fingers mentally crossed, squeezed the trigger. There was an instantaneous and satisfactory ‘woomph’ as the tank blew up in a sheet of flame. Two German troopers clambered hastily out, dropped to the ground and started to run away. Mogg drew his pistol and fired a few parting shots, which missed, he later admitted, but probably hastened them on their way. He then followed his two companions who were already sprinting back along the road towards the main position. It was hardly, thought Mogg as he recovered his breath, the sort of activity in which a battalion commander ought to be involved, but was perhaps justified in view of the end result and the boost that it gave to D Company’s morale.
Others were tank-hunting, too, if rather less successfully. Lieutenant Ken Whittaker, the Durham’s anti-tank platoon commander, had noticed, while siting one of his guns, a Panther tank in a barn down the Longraye road. Tank-hunting is not a role for a towed anti-tank gun, which must be dragged into position by its Dragon tractor, unhitched and turned round before it can engage a target. Whittaker returned quickly to the middle of the village and sought out a convenient tank to engage the Panther. Here he met Major d’Avigdor-Goldsmid, who had just arrived near the church. Goldsmid decided that he must establish exactly what and where his target was before he set out to stalk it. The two officers undertook a joint reconnaissance on foot. They crept past the two 6-pounder antitank guns which had been destroyed earlier, with the crews still lying dead beside them, and approached the barn. Sure enough, the Panther was still there, and, to the utter astonishment of Goldsmid and Whittaker, beside it stood a German soldier calmly shaving. They withdrew quietly and hatched a plan. Whittaker and a patrol of infantry would work their way round the left flank while Goldsmid’s tank moved along the narrow track that ran behind the barn. On a given signal the infantry would fire a PIAT at short range, while the tank would fire at a point on the barn wall on the other side of which Goldsmid judged the Panther would be. The signal was duly given. The PIAT, a notoriously unreliable weapon, misfired, while the Sherman fired three rounds in quick succession. To their joint dismay the Panther rolled out of the barn and made off towards the open country, apparently unscathed.
British soldiers operating a PIAT in Normandy. ‘But I don’t know how to fire the bloody thing, sir!’
A Squadron suffered its first casualty of the day shortly afterwards. A Durham corporal told Morrison that he could hear the sounds of tracked vehicles to the south. Corporal Johnson, whose tank was now covering that direction, could see nothing, so Morrison ordered him to move to where he could get a better view down the Longraye road. No sooner had Johnson moved forward than his tank was struck by an armoured-piercing round. Luckily the Sherman did not catch fire, but the shot had disabled it. Johnson climbed out badly wounded. He died of his wounds the following day. As the radio operator, Lance Corporal Draper, scrambled down the back of the tank and hurried to take cover, he realised that the gun was off-centre, thereby preventing the driver, Trooper Dagley, from opening his hatch. Dagley, a quiet family man from the west country, had had a premonition that he would not return from Normandy. Before the invasion, when most soldiers were encouraged to send home all their unnecessary possessions, Dagley had also sent his most private and personal effects; watch, wallet and fountain-pen. In reply to Morrison’s questions Dagley had explained that he came from a poor family and that as he would not be returning from the war it was important for his wife to have everything of value before he went. Morrison’s assurances of likely survival made no impression. Now Dagley was trapped, possibly injured or even dead, in a disabled tank, in imminent danger of being hit again. Draper quickly realised the situation and, in full view of the enemy, ran back, climbed into the tank turret and traversed the gun until the driver’s hatch was free. He then climbed out of the turret and opened the driver’s hatch. But Dagley did not move. Draper pulled the driver out through the hatch and carried him, with some difficulty for Dagley was a big man, into the shelter of the church wall, bedside the other casualties. But it was in vain. Dagley’s premonition had been correct; he died a few minutes later. (Trooper Dagley’s grave is in the small cemetary of Jerusalem, an oasis of peace beside the busy Bayeux/Tilly - sur-Seulles road.) It is worth recording that Draper was not shot at as he carried out his rescue attempt. Morrison has always been convinced that this was because the enemy at Lingèvres was Panzer Lehr, a regular Wehrmacht division, not one of the SS formations.
Lingèvres 1998, Looking east towards Tilly-sur-Sellies.
Corporal Johnson’s Sherman beside Lingèvres Church, after the battle. Note the gun traversed so that ft does not obstruct the driver’s hatch.
This left Morrison short of one tank if he was to cover all the roads into Lingèvres. But he was surprised to find that another Sherman tank, apparently spare, had arrived in the centre of the village. This seemed to answer his problem. Clearly it did not belong to 4/7DG, but its ownership was irrelevant to Morrison, who wanted all the tank fire-power available to him. He climbed onto it and banged on the cupola, which opened to reveal the artillery battery commander, Major Swann. In reply to Morrison’s request that he should cover the area south, Swann explained that to make room inside the turret for the many radio sets needed to control the artillery fire the gun had been removed and replaced by a wooden mock-up. A gunless tank, obviously bristling with radios, would be an immediate target for German gunners.
Further discussion seemed pointless, especially as the Germans chose that moment to launch a counter-attack against the village. This was beaten off by the Durhams and A Squadron, as were several other German attempts to recapture the village. Mogg and Morrison had good cause to be grateful for the presence of Major Swann, since the splendid artillery fire support played a vital part in dealing with each successive German attack.
By about 1630 tank gun ammunition was running low. That Sherman tanks carried 90 rounds gives an indication of the level of fighting in Lingèvres that day. Replenishment trucks were called forward and Goldsmid gave orders that tanks were to be withdrawn one by one to re-arm, re-fuel and then return to the village. First to go was Sergeant Harris; Morrison wanted his 17-pounder fully re-armed back in position as soon as possible. This proved to be a wise decision; no sooner had Harris returned and taken up a position near the village centre than events began to move very rapidly.
Goldsmid became increasingly concerned at reports from the infantry that there were tank noises on the road running west out of Lingèvres towards Balleroy. Tank commanders, with the noise of their tank engines and the continuous ‘mush’ of their radios, rely upon the ears of the infantry in situations like this. He told Captain John Stirling, who was in position providing flank protection about a quarter of a mile north-west of the village, to investigate. Stirling went alone, unsupported, and before long he reported that he could see the outline of a Panther turret on the road out of Lingèvres. He proposed to deal with it. This required considerable care; Stirling’s tank only had a 75mm gun against which a Panther was almost invulnerable unless hit in the right place. Conversely, one shot from the Panther would certainly destroy the Sherman. Using the available cover, Stirling skillfully stalked his prey until, at about 400 yards range, he considered that he was in position. He carefully laid the gun himself, aiming at a hedge just below the Panther’s turret. Three quick rounds of solid shot from the Sherman into the Panther’s vulnerable side and the unsuspecting German tank immediately started to brew. ‘16, I’ve got it, and its starting to brew.’ Stirling’s voice was exultant over the squadron radio.
German infantry moving up for an attack.
Lingèvres - showing the three Panthers knocked-out by Harris.
Meanwhile Goldsmid had prudently summoned Harris and re-sited his tank so that it covered the road past the church. He was only just in time. The effect of Stirling’s strike was electrifying. This tank proved to be the last of a group of four. Seeing the back tank so suddenly and unexpectedly destroyed the remaining three immediately bolted east towards the village in a bid to escape. In the village the cry of ‘Tank coming; Tank coming’ went up. As ever, Harris was ready. As the leading Panther swept down the road his gunner, Trooper MacKillop knocked it out with a single shot. Fifty yards behind a second Panther roared past the crouching Durhams. It met the same fate and quickly burst into flames. The 17-pounder gun was really proving its worth. Two crew members jumped out, their clothes alight; no-one shot at them. Unbelievably a third Panther was hot on its tail and thundered into the village flat out. It managed to avoid its two predecessors, which had skidded into the ditches on opposite sides of the road, and, as it reached the middle of the village, McKillop just had time to fire another shot. This blasted the sprocket off its near side, and it slewed to a halt beside the war memorial. A total of six Panther tanks now lay smouldering in Lingèvres, five of them victims of the coolness and accuracy of Harris and McKillop, both of whom were later decorated; Harris was awarded The Distinguished Conduct Medal, while McKillop was Mentioned in Despatches.
The last of the Panther tanks knocked out by Sergeant Harris beside the war memorial in Ungèvres.
Lingèvres 1998. The war memorial still bears the marks of the battle. The small turning to the right, off the main road, was the axis up which 9 DLI and 4/7 DG entered the village.
The morning after! A soldier of the 9 DLI examines on of the Panther tanks knocked out by Sergeant Harris at the western end of Lingèvres. Another wrecked Panther can be seen on the other side of the road.
Lingèvres in 1998.
(Perhaps surprisingly the exact locations of two of Sergeant Harris’ victims can still be seen. Walk down the D13, westwards from the church. After a few hundred yards there is a small culvert, seen clearly in the photographs of 1944 and today. Just short of it on the left, and beyond it on the right, are gaps in the hedges which exactly correspond with the locations of the Panther tanks.)
This dramatic episode marked the finale of the battle for Lingèvres. From this moment the firing seemed to die away. The Durham infantrymen emerged from the rubble; the tank crews climbed out of their tanks. Someone found a crate of champagne on the back of one of the destroyed Panthers and the tension relaxed. The village was held, but the cost had been high. 9 DLI lost 22 officers and 226 men in Lingèvres on 14 June 1944. Among the decorations won that day was a DSO for Major John Mogg - later in the campaign he was to win a bar to that award, and MCs to Major Jackie d’Avigdor-Goldsmid and Lieutenant Alastair Morrison of A Squadron 4/7DG.
A few days later a new brigadier took over command of 151 Brigade - Brigadier Desmond Gordon, hot-foot from commanding 1/7 Queens at Villers-Bocage (see Chapter 7). He did not wait long before confirming Major John Mogg as the commanding officer of 9DLI, in the rank of Lieutenant-Colonel.
General Montgomery invests Lieutenant-Colonel John Mogg with the DSO. Awarded after the battle for Lingèvres.