CHAPTER THREE
Gold Beach, the D Day assault objective of 50th (Northumbrian) Division, was subdivided into two - Jig and King. Major General Douglas Graham, 50 Division’s commander, had four brigades under command. On the right 231 Brigade, with 56 Brigade behind, would assault Jig Beach; on the left 69 Brigade, backed by 151 Brigade, would land at King Beach. These two beaches were each subdivided into Green (right) and Red (left). Within 69 Brigade, 6th Battalion The Green Howards would land on King Green, 5th Battalion East Yorkshire Regiment on King Red.
It is worth noting the outline timings immediately before and after H Hour, which give some impression of the thoroughness of the planning and the weight of resources involved. These were much the same for all the British beaches.
H-7 hours: RAF bombers start attacks on the German positions, and in particular on the ten main coastal batteries.
H-75 minutes: RAF bombing ceases - after 1,316 sorties, dropping 5,853 tons of bombs.
H-60 minutes: US Air Force bomb beach defences - 1,083 sorties, 7,348 tons. Naval Bombardment Groups (6 battleships, 2 monitors, 22 cruisers) fire on the larger coastal batteries. Smaller ships engage beach defences.
H-15 minutes: Landing Craft (Rocket) open fire - 20,000 rockets fall on British beaches. Self-propelled artillery (25-pounder Sexton armoured vehicles) open fire from landing craft as they come within range of the shore.
H-5 minute DD tanks (amphibious Shermans with canvas flotation screens and Duplex Drive propellors) swim ashore.
H Hour: Assault engineers mine and obstacle clearance vehicles touch down.
H+7 minutes: Assault battalions go ashore, in two waves.
H+45 minutes: Reserve battalions land, followed by successive waves bearing naval beach control parties, infantry Bren-gun carriers and self-propelled anti-tank guns (US M10 armoured vehicles with 17-pounder guns), Crocodile tanks (flame-throwers), reserve tanks (non-amphibious Shermans) and beach trackway equipment.
H+90 minutes: Self-propelled artillery lands, followed by towed artillery and anti-tank guns.
For the most part the sheer weight of fire and strength of the assault force overwhelmed the German beach defences. Only on Omaha beach, where the Americans found far stronger defences than anticipated and where the assaulting divisions were pinned on the beaches until the afternoon, did the Germans manage seriously to disrupt the landings. And with Allied mastery of the sky, the German Air Force hardly put in an appearance. Montgomery’s call for ‘the violence, speed and power of the initial assault’ was well heeded.
Lieutenant Colonel Robin Hastings walked down Whitehall on a fine morning in March 1944. The trees were already in bud; the promise of Spring evident. Great events, in war as well as in nature, were clearly imminent, and Hastings was on his way to the War Office to be told the part that his battalion, 6th Battalion The Green Howards, would play in the forthcoming invasion.
The Green Howards was, and still is, a Yorkshire regiment. Although a Territorial rather than a Regular Army battalion, the 6th Battalion was already battle-experienced. It had taken part in the 1940 campaign which ended ignominiously at Dunkirk, had fought in the 8th Army’s desert campaign and been one of the assault battalions for the invasion of Sicily. To replace some of those lost in France and the Mediterranean, the battalion had received large numbers of reinforcements, many of whom came from outside Yorkshire. Indeed Hastings himself was one of those ‘imported’ from another regiment. He had served with distinction in The Rifle Brigade throughout the Desert campaign, winning a Military Cross and two Mentions in Despatches, and had already been ‘noticed’ by many senior Generals, including Montgomery, as a young leader of real distinction. He was just 26 years old when he assumed command of 6 Green Howards in Sicily in July 1943. But although so many of those who, like Hastings, now wore The Green Howards cap-badge in 1944 came from other regiments and other parts of Britain, 6 Green Howards never lost its Yorkshire ethos.
After some hours in the bowels of the War Office, Hastings emerged. His mind raced as, on his journey to rejoin his men in Scotland, he ran over the details of the task ahead of them. To be one of the leading battalions ashore on D Day seemed a sufficient challenge. But, having captured his allotted stretch of beach and destroyed its defences, including some potentially troublesome pill-boxes, the Yorkshiremen had to move inland and capture a prominent house with a circular drive. Next, just behind this house, the battalion must put out of action the Mont Fleury gun battery - vast concrete emplacements at present being hastily thrown up to house 150mm guns which could wreak fearful damage upon the ships stationed off the beaches and the soldiers who would wade ashore. A further mile inland, the Meuvaines Ridge and a suspected rocket site were to be captured, with the help of the tanks of 4th/7th Royal Dragoon Guards. Even this was not the end. They must then advance almost ten miles inland and capture an important ridge near St Léger, astride the Caen-Bayeux road. The country through which they would advance was a mass of small fields and orchards, high hedges, narrow sunken lanes and tiny hamlets. This was the ‘bocage’. With trees and hedges clad in the heavy foliage of June it would be a defender’s paradise. The horizon would seldom be further than 100 yards, and a few resolute men with a Spandau machine-gun could hold up an advance of a sizeable force for hours, causing heavy casualties. The nine mile walk from King Beach to St Léger seemed a very long way, mused Hastings as he journeyed north, even without the added ‘bonus’ of every hedge concealing someone intent on stopping you.
To carry out this demanding list of tasks, Hastings had his own battalion of four rifle companies, with a support company of mortars and machine guns. He was also allocated the Sherman tanks of B Squadron 4th/7th Royal Dragoon Guards, two teams of Royal Engineers AVREs (Armoured Vehicle Royal Engineers) and Flails. [The AVRE, was a converted Churchill tank with a 290mm Petard mortar, which fired a bunker-busting high-explosive ‘dustbin’ over a distance of about 80 yards. It could also carry rolls of track matting (Bobbins) or bundles of chestnut paling (Fascines) for filling craters in roads. The Flail was a Sherman tank which had a drum fixed between two extended arms. As the drum rotated numerous chains would ‘flail’ the way through a minefield clearing a path about 9 foot wide.] Also there was one platoon from the medium machine gun battalion, 6th Battalion The Cheshire Regiment, and the fire support of a battery of 86th Field Regiment, Royal Artillery (The Hertfordshire Yeomanry).
The operational tasks confronting 6 Green Howards were not Hastings’ only worries in the hectic weeks before D Day. Every day seemed to bring its own crop of complications. Though insignificant individually, when set against the sheer size of the proposed operation, each needed careful thought and resolution.
Among the ‘imports’ to 6 Green Howards was a large draft of Scotsmen, which included Lance Corporal Joyce, from Glasgow. Like others he went on a short spell of leave, to see his family and to release a little of the tension which months of hard training and the prospect of imminent action had built up. Unfortunately his relaxation went a little too far. Having imbibed rather too much of Scotland’s national drink, and suffered from the effect which sudden fresh air has upon such a condition, he heaved a convenient brick through a near-by shop window and started to help himself to some of the contents. The Glasgow police were not amused and arrained him quickly before the local Sheriff who decreed that he should spend some time in prison. This worried Hastings. First, Joyce was an excellent soldier who would be much needed in Normandy. Secondly, and perhaps more alarmingly, if it became known that the best way to avoid taking part in a distinctly hazardous operation was to sling a brick through a shop window, there might not be many windows in Britain left unbroken. Hastings’ powers of persuasion were tested to the full, but eventually a chastened Lance Corporal was released to go to Normandy. He was to prove his worth even before the Green Howards had cleared King Beach.
Armoured Vehicle Royal Engineers AVREs.
Another problem occurred when an RAF plane dropped a bomb squarely in the middle of the exit road which ran from the beach to the house with the circular drive. The aim might have been superb, but it was not appreciated by the Green Howards, for whom this road would be a crucial life-line up which the much-needed tanks, wheeled vehicles and supplies must follow them. However the planning experts seemed to have the answer to everything. Armed with dividers, graph paper and a recently taken air photograph, some genius worked out the width and depth of the hole. A fascine of the exact size was then constructed and placed on the top of an AVRE whose driver was told that once on the beach he was to drive up the road to the hole, dump his bundle in it and drive over it. In the event the measurements were perfect, the AVRE landed exactly at the right place, the driver placed his bundle squarely in the hole and trod it in. The axis road was open.
To his considerable frustration Hastings was not allowed to brief his men on the task confronting them. He would have liked at least to take his company commanders into his confidence, and they were obviously keen to know what was in store for them and their men. But the security instructions precluded this. He must keep his thoughts and fears to himself. If Hastings ever felt daunted by the task given him, he certainly never showed it. Under his leadership the battalion approached D Day in an atmosphere of the utmost confidence.
Impressed, like Peter Dickens, by the immense detail of his orders, Hastings was given little scope for his own inventiveness in planning the operation. The test for him and his subordinate commanders would come as the first soldiers waded ashore. It would be leadership, not planning, that would count when the Green Howards hit the beach. That in itself was a source of great comfort, for Hastings knew that he was backed by an experienced and reliable team, and the loyalty, courage and stubbornness in adversity of the Yorkshire soldier was almost legendary. Morale, leadership, confidence and the standard of training would be the cornerstones of success.
A few weeks before D Day the battalion moved south, first to Bournemouth and later to Winchester. Once there the gates of the camp were firmly shut. There would be no more leave; the time had come for the Yorkshiremen to be told the detail of their task. As they studied the photographs, models and maps that were now available, they, like others, were amazed by the detailed knowledge of the country over which they were about to fight and the thoroughness of the planning. Many hours were spent pouring over photographs, trying to pinpoint the beach defences and commit to memory all the key features which might be recognised when they emerged from their landing craft. The last few days of waiting passed quickly.
Lieutenant-Colonel Robin Hastings, Commanding Officer 6 Green Howards, briefs the master of the Empire Lance shortly before they sailed for D-Day.
There are, of course, snags in even the best laid plans. Operation Overlord was no exception. Hastings and his battalion were to cross in the Empire Lance. This ship, which went by the name of a Landing Craft Infantry (LCI), was, in fact, a converted cargo ship, festooned with a mass of small landing craft into which the assaulting infantry would clamber for the final run-in to the beach. But once the Green Howards were aboard a staff officer went round the ship counting the number of landing craft, lifeboats and men. He then worked out that there was one too few lifeboats for the number of men on board, and declared that under no circumstances could the ship sail unless one of the landing craft was replaced by a lifeboat. As he watched his own battalion headquarters landing craft being removed, Hastings wondered momentarily whose side the man was really on. After weeks of training and rehearsals with the correct landing craft, he and his headquarters team must now go into the beach in one with which they had not practiced. It hardly seemed a good omen.
The first grey streaks of the dawn of 6 June were creeping into the eastern sky when Reveille was sounded in the Empire Lance. It was almost unnecessary; few had slept. Most had spent the time cleaning their weapons and making final checks of their equipment. Breakfast was unusually silent. The last meal before going into action is always difficult - the stomach feels tight and the appetite small. The next meal may be many hours away. For some there will be no next meal. A few natural humorists did their best to relax the atmosphere, but for the most part the Yorkshiremen picked at their food in silence, deep in their private thoughts. Fear of what the immediate future may hold; fear not so much of death but of the possibility of painful injury. Fear in anticipation is far worse than fear in the moment of action and danger. Once battle is joined events move far too quickly for most soldiers to be frightened. But the period of waiting beforehand seems interminable, and Operation Overlord, with its lengthy build-up and training, its final delay and its protracted Channel crossing, gnawed at the spirits of those involved.
Even hardened veterans, like Company Sergeant Major Stan Hollis of D Company, were glad when the time came to climb down the scrambling nets into the Landing Craft Assault (LCA) which would carry them ashore. The infantryman in his full assault equipment is a mass of buckles and buttons. All of these seemed to cling to the nets as if unwilling to leave the safety of the ship for the dangers and uncertainties that lay ahead. Weapons and equipment caught on the nets as they clambered down into the landing craft, which rose and fell alarmingly in the rough water. Hastings, normally a bad sailor, was surprised that he was not sea-sick on that rough journey; perhaps he had other things on his mind! On reaching the water Hasting’s landing craft bucked violently in the swell, thereby making it almost impossible for the crew to detach the lowering hook, which weighed upwards of half a ton and which, when the craft was lifted on the high waves, bounced along the top of the battalion headquarters command carrier, at one end of which was a box of grenades and at the other the colonel’s wash basin. Watching this Hastings felt ruefully that if the hook hit the grenades there would be no need for the wash basin! Eventually the hook was released and the landing craft took its place among the others circling round, waiting to line up for the run in to the beach. After what seemed an age the time appointed came, and the vast armada of landing craft lined up and headed for the coast of Normandy.
Infantry climb down the nets into a landing craft.
Running up towards the French coast and Gold Beach, camouflage covers have just been removed from this LCT at H-30. (MICHAEL IRWIN)
It might be imagined that the first troops ashore in an invasion would be the leading infantrymen, but in this case it was not so. As the table on Page 29 shows the specialist armour, DD tanks, AVREs and Flails, would land first, to destroy previously identified defence strong-points and to clear exits through the minefields so that the assault infantry would not be pinned down on the beaches, unable to advance inland. (On Omaha Beach the Americans, with no armoured vehicles ashore in the early phases of the landings, suffered exactly this fate and many casualties.) Before the armour could go ashore, however, pathways must be cleared through the multitude of defence obstacles which, following Rommel’s personal orders, now littered the beaches. This clearance was the task of the Landing Craft, Assault (Hedgerow) [LCA(HR)].
Lieutenant Michael Irwin RNVR commanded the nine LCA(HR) of Group 2, 591 Flotilla heading for King Beach. A veteran of landing craft, Irwin had taken part in the largely unopposed landings in North Africa in November 1942. At Salerno in Southern Italy in September 1943, however, it had been a very different story, as Irwin had had to land men from the 36(US) Division under heavy fire, straight into the teeth of strong German defences. It was an operation which nearly foundered. Now, for the third time, Irwin was leading a force towards an enemy-held beach.
Unlike the Infantry LCAs, which were transported across the Channel in large Landing Ships, to be launched a few miles out for the final run-in to the beach, the Hedgerows sailed the entire journey. They were to be towed most of the way by the Landing Craft Flak (LCF) and Landing Craft Tank (LCT). Cast off at 0615 about six miles out, they would then lead the way to the beaches. Once in position a few hundred yards off-shore, they would come into action. Welded to the deck of each Hedgerow were two banks, each of twelve ‘mortar’ barrels. Set into each barrel was a spigot, to the front end of which was attached a bomb containing 30 lbs of High Explosive, with a percussion cap on the end. Fired simultaneously at a range of between 335 and 415 yards, these 24 bombs would land among the beach obstacles and clear a lane 80 yards long by 12 yards wide. Following close behind the Hedgerows, the swimming DD tanks and the LCTs with the other specialist armour would then land. The armour would motor quickly through the cleared lanes onto the main beach area and start to neutralise the defences before the arrival of the first infantrymen a few minutes later. The landings were timed for shortly after low tide, when the beach obstacles would be clear of the water and therefore vulnerable to the Hedgehogs’ attack. As soon as thelanes were cleared and marked, the follow-up landing craft, with the tide rising, would drive further up the beach with some degree of safety.
Lieutenant Michael Irwin RNVR - 1944
A mountainous sea resulted in craft shipping vast amounts of water, and putting heavy strain on the tow lines. Seven of the nine LCAs in Group 2 broke their lines and had to make the journey under their own power. Here Irwin’s coxwain concentrates on the job in hand.(MICHAEL IRWIN)
En route for France. Photo taken by Lieutenant Michael Irwin as his LCA (HR) 1110 is towed by LCF38. (MICHAEL IRWIN)
Battles seldom, if ever, run according to plan, and even this, the very first stage of the landings, with so much that must follow on that momentous day, ran into early troubles. The sea, on the night of 5/6 June 1944 was exceedingly rough, and the small LCAs, designed for work close in-shore not as cross-channel ferries, suffered accordingly. Bucking wildly in the mountainous sea they shipped vast amounts of water, and the pressure upon the tow lines from their tug Landing Craft proved to be too great. Seven of the nine LCAs in Group 2 broke their tow-lines and had to make the journey under their own power. Irwin’s own LCA (HR) 1110 had to cast its tow at 0200 when its tug, LCF 38, broke down with engine trouble in mid-Channel. Eight of Irwin’s LCAs made it to their appointed position on time - a remarkable feat of determination and seamanship.
As he closed in on his firing position, Irwin was conscious of an unnatural silence along the beach. The fire from the bombarding ships, which had been roaring over his head as he drove his craft shorewards, had momentarily lifted and there was as yet no response coming from the German defenders. Estimating his range at about 400 yards, Irwin ordered his two crewmen to take cover in the engine room as he operated the ripple switch which fired his banks of bombs. With a satis factory bang they flew towards the beach. Irwin just had time to notice that two had failed to fire, their firing mechanisms doubtless affected by the sea spray which had drenched the LCA during its journey. But conscious of LCT 930, with its load of Flail tanks, almost on top of him as its captain sought to follow up the Hedgerow’s fire by landing his charges immediately after Irwin had cleared a path through the beach obstacles. Irwin just had time to order ‘Hard a-port’ as the bow of the LCT missed his craft by only a few feet.
Beach obstacles to be overcome by the invaders.
With the job done Irwin’s LCA (HR) 1110 turns away from Gold Beach and heads back to parent ship Empire Mace. The two spigot mortar bombs, which failed to fire, can be clearly seen. (MICHAEL IRWIN)
Some were not so lucky. Sub Lieutenant Ashton’s LCA(HR) 1106 was rammed and capsized by its following LCT just before it fired its spigot bombs. The LCA and two of the three crew members were lost.
Although Irwin’s primary task was now over, he had one more duty to perform. Shortly before leaving England an Army officer had visited his LCA and delivered some sticky bombs. Having fired his spigot mortars, Irwin was to attach these sticky bombs to some of the beach obstacles. This would involve manoeuvring the craft carefully alongside these fearsome looking objects, leaning over-board and pressing the sticky bomb against them. It promised to be a most unhealthy business, as the German defences would doubtless have come to life and be pouring fire along the beaches. Nor did it seem sensible to Irwin to introduce some new gadget, with which no-one had trained, just a few hours before departure. But orders were orders and having fired his main charges Irwin started to undertake this unpleasant task, as bullets from a German machine-gun whipped just over his head. His first few attempts all failed; the bombs refused to stick and fell into the water. Without further ado Irwin set sail for his parent ship, the Empire Mace, where his LCA was hoisted aboard. As he withdrew he could see the leading infantry-men storming up the beach, while the two Flails which had landed from LCT 930 just behind him were now both in flames. For most, D Day was just beginning; for Irwin it was over.
Of the eight LCA(HR) of Group 2 which reached the French coast five made it back to their parent ship. In addition to the one that was run over, two others foundered on their way to the Empire Mace, having completed their primary tasks - and had similarity unsuccessful experiences with the sticky bombs!
A Landing Craft Assault (LCA) carried twenty men and two Royal Marines - one to operate the engine, the other to open the front ramp for landing. From his LCA CSM Hollis of D Company, the left assault company of 6 Green Howards, could see A Company on his right and the 5 East Yorkshires on his left. About half a mile from the shore Hollis began to pick out the landmarks which he had learned so well from the air photographs and models back in England - the house with the circular drive, the road running up to it from the beach and an ominous-looking pill-box on the sea wall. It was clear that they would land dead on target, which was greatly reassuring. The operation ahead would be hard enough without the difficulty of landing off-target and having to re-cast the battalion operation while still on the beach. But Hollis was mesmerised by that pillbox. It was so sited that it could bring devastating fire along the beach. A man of action, as he was shortly and convincingly to prove, Hollis took a machine-gun from one of his soldiers, balanced it on the landing craft’s ramp, and fired several bursts at the pill-box as it came within range. Perhaps that would daunt the ardour of any Germans inside. As they came in to land he grabbed the barrel and lifted the gun from the ramp, which would shortly go down, quite forgetting in the excitement of the moment that the barrel would be hot - he received a painful burn across the palm of the hand.
King Beach, the exit road and the house with the circular drive. This photograph, taken from a low flying aircraft, was memorised by all members of 6 Green Howards.
‘A self-inflicted wound, quite the most painful I had the entire war, it took weeks to heal and the battle hadn’t even started.”
COMPANY SERGEANT MAJOR STAN HOLLIS VC
Ironically the ‘pill-box’ was nothing of the sort. A tramline used to run along behind the sea-wall, and this was just one of the shelters for waiting passengers. It still stands, and the marks of Hollis’s shooting can still be seen.
Approach King Beach by the coast road, the D 514. Four and a half miles east of Arromanches, or three miles west of Corseulles, there is a small cross-roads. A track runs north down to the beach about 400 yards away. Turn south - there is a small sign, easily missed, saying ‘Musée America Gold Beach’. After just fifty yards turn right, along Rue Claude Debussy, with a high wall on the left. A sign points to ‘Residence Les Loges’. Park opposite the gateway in that wall and face the sea. You are looking down onto King Beach, where, at just after 0730 on the morning of 6 June 1944, 6th Battalion. The Green Howards landed in France. In front is the track running up from the beach, through the gap in the hedge, joining the main road where you turned off. The wall behind you is that of ‘The house with the circular drive’, which was such a vital marker to the Green Howards. In 1944 it stood alone. Now it is seems almost lost among the new houses that have been built over the years.
The ramps went down and the Yorkshiremen piled out into the water which came up to their waists. Weighted down with equipment, some stumbled and fell before reaching the beach. Among them was Sergeant Hill, of 16 Platoon, who had been with D Company throughout the desert and Sicily campaigns, but who was tragically killed when he tripped on leaving the landing craft and was run over as it drove into the beach.
Infantry storm ashore from a landing craft.
Hollis, accompanied by three machine gunners and three mortarmen, raced up to the high-water mark where they were to lay down a smoke-screen to cover the German minefield as the rest of the company crossed it. It seemed almost unnecessary. From behind them the guns of the naval ships standing off the beaches and the artillery fire from guns on the approaching landing craft poured an incessant stream of fire onto the enemy positions. The smoke and dust of battle already shrouded the area. As he directed the fire of his small group Hollis saw a line of birds sitting quietly on the barbed wire just a few feet away, apparently quite unconcerned in the midst of all this fury. Private Mullally followed his sergeant major’s gaze. ‘No bloody wonder, sergeant major’, was his dour comment, ‘there’s no bloody room for them in the air’.
Hastings landing craft followed close on the heels of those of his leading companies. The driver drove it hard into the beach where the nose stuck firmly. The tail then started to swing slowly round. Hastings watched with increasing alarm as it approached one of the German defensive beach obstacles - a mine attached to a pole. It was clear that in a very short time the rear of the landing craft would hit it. It was obviously sensible to disembark quickly. The drill was that immediately land was hit the ramp went down and the men on board leapt off and rushed up the beach. But this just did not happen. All sat firmly in their places, as if frozen solid, with the ramp still shut and no-one keen to open it, while the tail swung slowly but surely towards the mine. After what seemed an age, but was probably only a few seconds, one of the crew gave the ramp a shove. It went down to reveal a stretch of water between landing craft and land. Once again Hastings expected everyone to rush off up the beach, eager to release the tension and join the fray. But again, no-one moved. So, with an eye on the approaching mine, Hastings walked to the front of the craft, sat down on the edge and lowered his feet gingerly into the water in the manner of a Brighton paddler. The water just reached his ankles as he touched the bottom, so he thankfully rose and advanced up the beach without further ado, followed by the rest of his party.
On reaching the sea wall his first concern was to find out how his leading companies were progressing. He put up his binoculars but could see nothing. Looking down he saw that a bullet or mortar splinter must have snapped off the eye pieces. Until that moment he had been totally unaware of the heavy firing which echoed along the entire beach.
On the right A Company was pinned down on the beach by heavy fire from a nearby pillbox and a German 105mm gun position. These problems were solved when a tank of B Squadron 4/7 DG, under command of 6 Green Howards, managed to ‘post a letter’ in through the firing slit of the 105mm gun emplacement, while Lance Corporal Joyce, who Hastings had saved from a Glasgow cell, now proved the accuracy of his throwing arm. Covered by Major Honeyman, his company commander, he jumped the sea wall, lobbed a grenade into the pillbox, and then followed it up quickly, rounding up the Germans who had survived. (L/Cpl Joyce was awarded the Military Medal for his actions on D Day.) The way was now clear for B and C Companies to pass through and advance towards the next objective, the Meuvaines Ridge.
On the left D Company, having successfully passed through the minefield and a gap in the hedge, was beginning to make its way up the road towards the house with the circular drive. Shortly after coming through the hedge they had their first battle casualties - from enemy fire in the area of the house. The leading two platoons pressed rapidly forward, bypassing the house, intent on reaching the Mont Fleury gun battery as quickly as possible. Company headquarters, with Major Ronnie Lofthouse and CSM Stan Hollis, followed up the road and approached the wall in front of the house. They had paused about fifty yards short of the gate when Lofthouse spotted the source of the fire, which had now been turned onto the back of the platoons which, having moved further inland, were now ahead about to start their assault on the gun battery.
There’s a pillbox in there, sergeant major,’ he said, pointing to an area of bushes about fifty yards to the right, beyond the end of the wall. Hollis reacted instantly. Not waiting for orders he charged the pillbox alone, firing his Sten-gun as he ran. The Germans turned their fire on him as he raced towards them. Unaccountably, they missed. Within a few seconds he had reached the pillbox, shoved his gun muzzle in through the firing slit and sprayed it around like a hose-pipe. He then climbed on top of the pillbox, lay down and slipped a grenade in through the slit. When it exploded, with a satisfactory bang, he jumped down into the trench at the back which led to the entrance. Bursting into the pillbox he found two dead Germans and a number of others who were either wounded or dazed - at least they clearly did not want to fight any more. Emerging from the pillbox, Hollis noticed that the trench led towards another pillbox about one hundred yards further on. If this was occupied by another group of Germans who might also shoot-up the platoons advancing on the Mont Fleury Battery, the advance might grind to a halt. He decided to investigate further on his own. Having changed the magazine on his Sten-gun, he started to walk along the trench. As he did so German soldiers started to emerge from the pillbox. But they seemed disinclined to tussle with Hollis, whose manner doubtless made clear to them the penalties of anything other than instant surrender. Prudently, they all put their hands up; in this way Hollis captured 25 to 30 prisoners, who he directed down towards the beach, where the beach group would doubtless look after them.
The leading platoons of D Company now nearing the battery were probably quite unaware of the drama behind them, but had the Germans been able to direct unsuppressed fire onto the rear of these platoons D Company’s operations on D Day would probably have progressed no further.
Face the gate in the wall which leads to the house with the circular drive, with the sea behind you. Turn right. The road leads on towards some new houses. The second house on the right of the road has been built on the site of Hollis’ first pillbox. The trench system has also been built over, but the concrete casemates of the Mont Fleury Gun Battery still exist, now incorporated into some of the gardens and sheds which have since sprung up in the area. They can be seen along the Rue de Roguettes in the village, just over the ridge.
As the morning passed Colonel Hastings was able, with considerable satisfaction, to tick off the various tasks he had been given. Beach, pillboxes and the house with the circular drive had all been captured. The garrison of the Mont Fleury Battery, after the hammering they had received from the air bombardment and naval guns, had decided that discretion was the better part of valour and had fled without a fight. B Company, under Major Young, had, despite an unexpected minefield, cleared its objective and taken more prisoners. C Company had linked up successfully with B Squadron 4/7DG and together they had captured the German position on the Meuvaines Ridge, which turned out to be, not a rocket site, but a command headquarters. From this position another 40 prisoners were making their way disconsolately down to the beach en route for prison camps in England.
Exit road from King Beach, 1998, showing the house with the circular drive. It was just in front of the gate that Hollis became aware of the German pill-box. O marks where Hollis was when he saw the pillbox.
1998 the scene of the first part of Hollis’ VC. The gate leading to the house with the circular drive is on the left.
Things were going far better than Hastings had ever dared to hope. But his natural satisfaction was tempered by one major worry. Although the overall casualty figures were not unexpectedly high, 6 Green Howards had lost too many key leaders. C Company commander, Captain Linn, had been killed during the attack on the Meuvaines Ridge, and the second-in-command, Captain Chambers, had been wounded in the head - fortunately not too badly as he was able to remain and assume command of the company. Major Jackson of Support Company had been seriously wounded on the beach. In addition several platoon commanders and non commissioned officers had been hit. Leadership by example had always been the battalion’s creed, and this inevitably meant that the leaders were always at the most dangerous place - the front. Lieutenant Kirkpatrick of 16 Platoon D Company had been injured on the beach. He had fought throughout the morning with a broken arm. Now, on the advance forward from Mont Fleury, he too had been killed. This continual drain on the leadership of the battalion, if it persisted, would have an inevitable and adverse effect on the fighting quality of the battalion. But although Hastings was understandably concerned, he knew that other battalions were in greater difficulties, still fighting fierce battles on the beaches. He, at least, had secured room to manoeuvre. St Léger was still a long way further on. They must press on as quickly as possible.
The battalion advance from Mont Fleury along the road to Crépon was conducted under desultory German fire. B and C Companies led, with D tucked in behind and A in reserve. Just short of Crépon they came under withering fire from the village. Captain Jones, the much respected commander of the Carrier Platoon, was killed just short of the village. It was clear that the village was strongly held and that any further advance would be impossible unless the road through it was cleared. This road must become the battalion’s lifeline as they advanced south. Along it must come the wheeled vehicles bringing food, ammunition and other vital stores. But Hastings did not want to get involved in a costly and time consuming street battle. He knew that his top priority was to press on as fast as possible towards his ultimate objective five miles further south. He therefore ordered B and C Companies to bypass Crépon and push on; D Company must clear the route through the village. This would be something of a gamble. The opposition in Crépon might be more than D Company could deal with on its own, and he would only have A Company as a reserve, to help out both the leading companies and D Company. But to the experienced Hastings the risk was both carefully calculated and necessary.
An aerial view of King Beach and the advance to the Mont Fleury gun battery, clearly still under construction at the time of this photograph. The effects of RAF bombing can be clearly seen.
He sent for Major Lofthouse and made it clear that the road must be opened, but that D Company must not get bogged down in trying to clear out every German from the village. They were to do just sufficient to ensure that the road was open for use. Lofthouse decided that the best he could do was to search the houses that actually overlooked the road. He collected his platoon commanders and gave them their orders. With Lieutenant Kirkpatrick killed as the company left the Mont Fleury area and Sergeant Hill killed on the beach, 16 Platoon had become leaderless. Lofthouse had therefore ordered his company sergeant major, CSM Stan Hollis, to assume command of the platoon.
To reach Cépon from King Beach, follow the D112 inland for two miles. En route, and just before leaving Ver-sur-Mer, you may be able to make out the faint invasion markings on a wall ahead as the road bends right - CREPON ASSEMBLY AREA - ALL DUMPS - TT. (TT denotes Tyne-Tees and was the tactical sign of 50th (Northumbrian) Division.) Since the war a bypass has been built around Crépon, passing it to the north. Stop, en route, to admire the splendid War Memorial dedicated to those of 6th and 7th Battalions The Green Howards who died during the Normandy campaign. Unveiled in 1996 by the regiment’s Colonel-in-Chief, King Harald V of Norway, it takes the form of a splendid statue of a soldier, sitting at rest, but alert, before a wall on which are engraved the names of his fallen comrades. It is, perhaps, the most moving of all the many British memorials in Normandy, and is well worth visiting. About 100 yards beyond the memorial, turn right, still the D112, signed Bazenville and Bayeux. Go ½ mile to the last farm on the left, a large gate set in a high wall, almost opposite a Priority Road sign. This is Ferme du Pavillon, the home of the Lahaye family. Inside the farmyard, the farmhouse is immediately on your right and just beyond it a narrow alley, with a wall on the left, leads to an orchard. If you plan to visit the scene of this action it would only be reasonable to ask the permission of the family.
Cromwell and Sherman tanks moving inland from King Beach towards the house with the circular drive.
King Beach and the exit road, 1998.
So far D Company’s advance through the village had gone well. Now 16 Platoon must clear this farmhouse. Hollis led his men into the farmyard and quickly set about searching the house. He burst into one room and found a small boy of about ten cowering in the corner, clearly expecting to be shot. But Hollis, who must have presented a fearsome spectacle, just lowered his weapon and gave a toothy grin. (The boy, M Lahaye, later inherited the farm and greeted Hollis as a friend annually on British Army Battlefield Tours.) Satisfied that the rest of the house was empty, Hollis, being of an inquisitive nature, decided to look around the farm to ensure that there were no Germans concealed there. Cautiously he led his men down the narrow alley in the corner of the yard. Reaching the far end he peered gingerly round the corner. He hardly had time to absorb the detail of the orchards and fields when there was a sharp crack and a bullet gouged out a flake of the stone wall a few inches from his face. Hastily he withdrew, waited a few seconds and then, lying down this time, ventured another look. This time no bullet, just a scene of pastural tranquility - an orchard, a field surrounded by high hedges about 150 yards away and a couple of dogs jumping around wagging their tails near a gap in the hedge. A veteran of many battles, Hollis did not miss the significance of those dogs. Clearly there was someone, with whom the dogs were friendly, in the area of that gap. Hollis looked hard and could just make out what he thought was a field gun, concealed in the leafy hedge.
PIAT anti-tank gun of the type used by CSM Hollis.
He hurried back to Lofthouse on the road and explained what he had seen. The company commander promptly authorised him to take a small party and try to eliminate the gun. So Hollis collected a PIAT anti-tank gun and rejoined his men in the farmyard. Quickly he gave out simple orders. He had earlier noticed that running down the left-hand side of the orchard towards the hedge was a strip of rhubarb about five yards wide. Hollis with his PIAT and two Bren-gunners would crawl down through the rhubarb in order to get closer to the field-gun, thereby giving a better chance of a hit with what was always a notoriously inaccurate weapon. At the same time several of his men were to dash out into the middle of the orchard and give covering fire for this hazardous operation.
Gateway into Ferme Du Pavillon, Crépon. Hollis found the small boy cowering inside the farmhouse on the right. The alley to the orchard is at the far end of the farmhouse.
CSM Stan Hollis went back for two of his men and at great personal risk extricated them from in front of a German gun position.
Instructions clear, they set off. Hollis and his Bren-gunners started their tortuous crawl down the rhubarb strip, but there was no covering fire from the others; they had all been killed, by rifle and machine-gun fire from from a very alert enemy in the hedge, as soon as they broke cover into the open orchard. Hollis crawled on. Reaching the far end of the rhubarb he loaded his PIAT. Taking careful aim on the field gun, he fired. The round fell short. With horrible inevitability the gun traversed slowly until Hollis seemed to be gazing directly down its barrel at a range of only about one hundred yards. There was a shattering explosion. The shell passed over his head and slammed into the house behind him.
‘To hell with this; I’m getting out of here,’ was the way Hollis would later describe his reaction. Shouting to the two Bren-gunners to follow him, he started to crawl back through the rhubarb. Reaching the end he doubled down the narrow passage, rejoined the rest of D Company on the road and reported to Lofthouse. The company commander was keen to press on quickly. He decided that as the field gun was not directly threatening the route through the village it should be left for others to sort out later.
Orchard at Ferme Du Pavillon. The wall on the left is the end of the small alley.
Infantrymen of 50 Division moving inland past the village of Crépon, on the afternoon of D-Day.
Striking memorial to the Green Howards at Crépon.
But as Lofthouse and Hollis were talking they heard the sound of machine-gun fire from the area of the farmhouse. Hollis suddenly realised that the two Bren-gunners who had accompanied him had not returned. Since he had taken them in, he would get them out. Exchanging his PIAT for a Bren-gun he doubled back into the farmyard and down the narrow alley. On reaching the far end he charged straight into the middle of the orchard, firing from the hip and shouting to the two soldiers to get out. Totally disregarding the bullets flying around him, and standing beside the bodies of the soldiers who had died there earlier, he covered the withdrawal of his two Bren-gunners. As soon as they had reached the safety of the alley, by which time his magazine was empty, Hollis sprinted after them. Together the three men rejoined D Company on the road, miraculously unharmed.
6 Green Howards continued their advance until, by nightfall, they had reached a point just one mile short of their planned objective, the St Léger feature astride the Caen-Bayeux road. During D Day the battalion had about 90 casualties, which Colonel Hastings considered to be ‘not unreasonable, bearing in mind the tasks given that day’. For his actions in clearing the pillbox at Mont Fleury and in the orchard at Crépon on D Day Company Sergeant Major S.E. Hollis was awarded the Victoria Cross, the only man to be so decorated on D Day. Lieutenant Colonel R.H.W.S. Hastings was also decorated for his leadership on D Day. He was awarded the first of his two DSOs, which he later described as ‘quite undeserved personally, but probably par for the course for a battalion commander who survived D Day and whose battalion did quite well.