CHAPTER FOUR
4th/7th Royal Dragoon Guards was an armoured regiment in 8 Armoured Brigade. For the D Day landings it was placed under command of 69 Infantry Brigade, with a squadron allotted to each infantry battalion. Initially the plan was for the regiment to swim its tanks ashore. This highly unlikely sounding performance for a 30-ton tank had in fact been carefully thought out and prepared. Each tank was fitted with a flotation screen and a Duplex-Drive (DD) system which would propel it through the water. On reaching land the flotation screens would be lowered. Tanks being somewhat unnatural swimmers, all crews were trained in submarine-escape techniques. As D Day approached it was decided that while B and C Squadrons would indeed swim ashore, landing five minutes ahead of the two assault battalions, B Squadron with 6 Green Howards on the right of King Beach and C Squadron with 5 East Yorkshires on the left, A Squadron’s landing craft would drive right onto the beach at H+45 minutes.
The removal of A Squadron’s amphibious status and equipment was largely to cater for the introduction of the 17-pounder gun. It had already become apparent that the normal 75mm gun on the Sherman, excellent as it was for providing fire support for attacking infantry, lacked the penetrative power to knock out the German MkIV, Panther and Tiger tanks. Shortly before D Day most armoured regiments were issued with a few modified Shermans, with a new turret mounting a much more powerful 17-pounder gun. This ‘Firefly’, as it was known, could not be converted as a DD tank because the 17-pounder barrel was too long to fit inside the raised flotation screen. In 4/7DG the five Fireflies were given to A Squadron, whose landing-craft must therefore be driven right onto the beach.
The men of A Squadron liked the Sherman tank. It was far more comfortable and reliable than the old Valentine with which they had trained until re-equipped in late 1943. It was not that Lieutenant Alastair Morrison, aged 20 and commanding 4th Troop of A Squadron, was over-concerned about comfort. This was to be his first taste of battle, but the training through which Major Jackie d’Avigdor-Goldsmid had put A Squadron in recent months had made it quite clear that war would be hard enough without the added disadvantage of having to fight in an uncomfortable tank.
An amphibious Sherman DD Tank, with flotation screen lowered. Its 75mm gun was no match for German tanks.
The Sherman ‘Firefly’. Its 17 pounder gun, could knock out German tanks.
Goldsmid, who had fought in France in 1940 and been evacuated from Dunkirk, had pushed his squadron hard. They had trained in all conditions - wet, dry, hot, cold, open country and built-up areas. They had spent many nights at sea, coming in at dawn to land and link up with the infantry. It had been Goldsmid’s intention that there would only be one new problem to be faced when they landed in Normandy - the enemy.
Morrison’s troop had three tanks. His own and Corporal Johnson’s had the 75mm gun. The anti-tank punch for 4th Troop was provided by Sergeant Harris’ Firefly, with the more lethal 17-pounder gun. But with its longer gun barrel and different turret, the ‘Firefly’ would be an obvious target for the German gunners. For the most part, therefore, Morrison and Johnson led in the 75mm tanks, with Harris’ tank tucked in behind to cover them forward and move quickly to engage enemy tanks, when a particular threat developed.
The final loading onto the invasion landing craft went like clockwork. To Morrison it all seemed exactly like an exercise. When loaded the craft collected together in groups of four, hidden under voluminous camouflage nets. Shortly after they had tied up, as Morrison was idly watching the mass of small boats which buzzed around the invasion fleet, he was surprised to see a Royal Engineer motor barge come alongside, bringing an officer, fifteen sappers and a vast 5-ton coil of beach matting. As the sappers worked feverishly at welding this contraption onto the landing craft just behind the ramp, the officer collected all the tank crews together.
‘This,’ he said, ‘is the Roly-Poly Beach-Mat. As soon as the landing craft hits the beach and the ramp goes down, two men are to run forward and unroll the mat up the beach. The tanks will then drive along the mat.’ And, with that rather terse instruction, he left.
The tank crews of 4th Troop were sceptical. Having rehearsed the landings many times, they knew exactly what to do. Why introduce some new, unproven gadget at this last minute? Their concern was clearly shared by the rest of A Squadron, because late that night the troopers set about the beach-mat. After a brief resistance it disappeared overboard with a huge splash, to cheers from the soldiers.
Major Jackie d’Avigdor-Goldsmid (in steel helmet) commanding a Guard of Honour for a famous visitor to 4/7 Dragoon Guards prior to leaving for France.
4/7DG’s experiences of the crossing to France were much as others. However, as they neared the coast the local Naval Commander decided that the sea was too rough to launch the DD tanks for their swim into the beach. He would bring them into a deep-wade, just a few hundred yards short of the beach. This proved to be a very wise decision. Whereas all the tanks launched at the US Omaha Beach sunk in the long swim in to the beach, B and C Squadrons of 4/7DG reached Gold Beach with only a few tank casualties.
Behind the leading squadrons, A Squadron arrived at about 8.30, accompanying the reserve infantry battalion, 7 Green Howards. The landing went largely according to plan, with the exception of the loss of two tanks which fell into underwater shell holes and were swamped. There was a short delay while the German minefield was breached, and then A Squadron and 7 Green Howards set off along the main axis, past Crépon towards Creully, a small village about five miles inland. As they advanced with 1st and 3rd Troops leading, and the infantry riding on the backs of 2nd and 4th Troops behind, they encountered little significant opposition. Occasionally a pair of hands would protrude above the corn, to be followed by a German soldier who, obedient to the signals of the passing troopers, made his way disconsolately north towards the beach. In an orchard just south of Ver-sur-Mer they paused only briefly to dump the supplies of extra ammunition which they had brought over, and which was to be the regiment’s immediate reserve. Then on, as quickly as possible, towards Creully.
The bridge at Creully was important. The River Seulles wanders from west to east across the countryside. Pre-invasion intelligence had reported that it was likely to prove a tank obstacle. Goldsmid had realised the significance of this bridge and had determined to seize it intact as quickly as possible. The leading tanks were about to cross the main road just north of Creully when a German staff car, driven at great speed from west to east, came into view. It was quickly engaged by machine-gun fire and slithered into the ditch. Inside was a dead German Medical Colonel. The squadron moved quickly on. 2nd Troop, which Goldsmid had ordered to take the lead, crossed the main road and started to make its way down the narrow winding road towards the Creully bridge. There was an early scare when it was reported that there was a Panther tank on the bridge, but it quickly withdrew and A Squadron was able to motor over the bridge in single file, and climb the hill, under the over-hanging walls of the old Norman castle, into the middle of the village. The tank crews were conscious of a feeling of vulnerability as they drove past houses which seemed to crowd in upon them, each a potential haven for a German sniper who could so easily pick off the tank commanders, with their heads out of their tank turrets. One shot from a German anti-tank weapon at very short range in that narrow street would have destroyed the leading tank, thereby blocking the entire advance.
It was with a distinct sense of relief that the squadron emerged from the village and into open country. They passed through a line of trees just south of the village and surveyed the scene ahead.
The small town of Creully lies just south of the D 12, the main road from Courseulles to Bayeux, about 5 miles from the coast and 7 miles from Bayeux. From the Ferme du Pavillon (Chapter 3) return the ½ mile to the cross roads in Crépon. Turn right (south) onto D 65, following signs to Creully. After crossing the D 12 (1½ miles), the road bends downhill to the water-meadows of the River Seulles. Ahead, on the high ground, is Creully, with its imposing castle. Just after crossing the river, pull in on the left and admire the War Memorial of 4th/7th Royal Dragoon Guards, unveiled in 1992 by their Colonel-in-Chief, the Duchess of Kent. Look back, over the river, towards the Chateau de Creullet. It was there that General Montgomery established his headquarters when he landed on 8 June, and it was from there that he conducted the Normandy Campaign.
Follow the road up the hill, under the almost over-hanging walls of the castle, to the road junction in the town centre, beside the French War Memorial. Keep right, on the D 35, signed to St Gabriel-Brécy. After ½ mile turn left onto the D 82, signed to Rucqueville and Coulombs. Drive past the industrial complex and stop at the far end of the electricity sub-station, where you can see the country for about a mile ahead.
It was a perfect summer day. The sun shone brightly in the clear blue sky. A gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the trees and sent ripples through the corn, which was beginning to turn from the green of spring to the gold of mid-summer. In short it was a scene of undisturbed peace which confronted the men of A Squadron as they emerged from Creully - very different from the picture of war which Goldsmid had so graphically painted for them during training. Goldsmid’s heart soared. This was good tank country - long fields of view but with folds in the ground and the occasional hedges and strips of wood which the squadron could use as tactical bounds as it advanced south. Here, for the first time since they had landed some hours earlier, he could deploy his squadron properly and press on at speed. The confined fields and hamlets were, for the moment at least, behind them. He pressed the transmit button on his radio and gave orders to his four troops:
‘Shake out into two-up formation - 1st Troop left, 2nd right, 3rd and 4th behind 1st and 2nd respectively. Now let’s go.’
Morrison caught the confident ring in his squadron leader’s voice. He manoeuvred his three tanks into their appointed place behind 2nd Troop, and watched the leading tanks, with Squadron Headquarters between and just behind them, as they disappeared over a gentle crest about 200 yards ahead. Near the front of the advance Goldsmid’s practiced eye noted every detail of the countryside. Things might be fine for the moment, but he well knew that it could all change very rapidly. Where was the most likely hiding place for an enemy anti-tank gun? Where was the nearest cover into which the squadron could move if it suddenly came under fire. To the right the ground seemed to fall away towards the River Seulles. Tanks could easily use the contours of the ground to gain protection on that side. On the more exposed left there was a belt of trees about 400 yards ahead.
Then quite suddenly two tanks to his right seemed to explode in sheets of flame, followed quickly by clouds of dense smoke. In a quick glance he saw that they were those of Sergeant Partlow and Corporal Lipscombe of 2nd Troop. Goldsmid had heard nothing above the noise of his tank engine and the crackle of his radio. Nor had he seen anything. But he knew that the leading tanks were in open country and probably exposed to a very alert and accurate German gunner.
‘Speed up. Make for cover - the line of trees 400 yards ahead.’
Lieutenant Peter Aizlewood with 1st Troop was already nearing the line of the trees, watching intently to see if he could locate the German tank or anti-tank gun which had struck so suddenly. Squadron Headquarters and Lieutenant Charles Pillman’s 3rd Troop hastily joined them. On the right the remaining tank of 2nd Troop, that of the troop leader Lieutenant Michael Trasenster, had prudently withdrawn a little, using a fold in the ground to conceal it from enemy fire.
Behind, Morrison had seen none of this. The first hint of trouble had come from hearing the hurried orders from his squadron leader. He had as yet no idea what had caused them. Tucked into the low ground to the right of the road, unable to see the leading tanks, Morrison felt somewhat cut off from events. Slowly he inched his way forward to where he could take in the detail of the scene. Ahead and to the right he could see the burning tanks of 2nd Troop, in the middle of the field. Over to the left 1st and 3rd Troops and Squadron Headquarters had now reached the line of trees. Morrison watched through his binoculars as one of the tanks nosed its way through the trees. Suddenly chunks of metal flew off the turret. Immediately a near solid column of dense black smoke spiralled vertically upwards for about 100 feet.
Morrison was surprised. Throughout their training he had formed a mental picture of a tank ‘brewing-up’. He had expected to see a few sparse flames lick from the stricken tank, to be followed by the hurried disembarkation of the crew, possibly wounded or burned, and shortly after by the thud of ammunition exploding inside. But reality was quite different. The tank had suddenly become an instant inferno. And to his right he could see that the turret of one of 2nd Troop’s tanks was glowing red. Above both tanks a black pillar of smoke hung as if suspended from some invisible beam.
Morrison was now in something of a quandary. Ahead of him, 2nd Troop, down to just the troop leader’s tank, was clearly stuck, unable to push forward on the right. The squadron radio net was momentarily silent - perhaps the tank which he had just seen hit was that of his squadron leader, Goldsmid. But there seemed little point in just sitting doing nothing, waiting for orders which might never come. He decided to join 1st and 3rd Troops in the line of trees. He gave orders to his driver, Corporal Gardner, and the tank set off at top speed across the open ground towards the trees.
Effect of a direct hit on a Sherman. The Germans referred to it as the Tommy Cooker’ because of its tendency to burst into flames on being hit.
‘Hello 4 Able for 4 - I’d watch it if I was you.’ The warning voice of Sergeant Harris crackled in his ear. But Morrison had calculated the risk - if he drove fast enough the German gunner, however alert and accurate, would be unlikely to be able to hit him. The tank bucked violently as it roared across the open field.
Reaching the tree line without mishap, Morrison breathed a sigh of relief and took stock of the situation around him. On the right was Pillman and 3rd Troop. Ahead, in a small clump of trees he could see 1st Troop, with Aizlewood’s tank a little forward of the others in what looked like a good firing position. Morrison focused his binoculars on Aizlewood’s tank. He wondered if the crew had yet been able to locate the enemy gunner. But as he watched he saw a spark, as if someone had struck a match against the side of Aizlewood’s tank. Then ‘woomph’ from inside the tank and immediately the tell-tale column of black smoke erupted into the sky. Just one figure clambered out of the turret and fell into the corn.
By chance, directly over the top of Aizlewood’s tank, Morrison had noticed a distinct flash at the foot of a telegraph pole on a distant feature. That flash had been followed by a whisp of smoke which drifted away down a nearby hedgerow.
From where he was Morrison knew that he could not engage the target with direct fire. The brow of the hill in front of him prevented this. And the danger of going forward from his turret-down position was clearly indicated by the now-burning tank ahead. Any movement forward would expose his tank to fire from an alert and accurate enemy. The only answer must be an indirect shoot, with the gunner, unable to see the target, being given corrections by Morrison following the fall of each shot.
But herein lay a problem. While Morrison was justly proud of 4th Troop’s ability to hit targets they could see, he had to admit that they had never shone at indirect shooting. This entailed a mass of mumbo-jumbo about ‘bracketing’ - the art of landing one shot beyond and one shot short of the target, then halving the bracket, and repeating the process until you hit it. In theory it all sounded so simple. There was, however, one snag - the commander must see the fall of shot if he was to send the necessary corrections. As far as 4th Troop was concerned the very mention of the words ‘indirect shoot’ seemed to activate some hidden gremlin. The gun would then take charge and despatch its shells into the far distance, never to be seen again. Corrections, of course, were then impossible.
But there was clearly no other option. With a slight sense of the inevitable Morrison gave orders to his crew. He gave a quick and rough estimate of the range, traversed the gun onto line and gave the order ‘Tire’. There was a loud bang and Morrison almost hopelessly scanned the far horizon through his binoculars. In keeping with tradition, he saw nothing. He shortened the range and called for another round. To his utter astonishment, and for the first time ever, he saw the shell strike the ground some way short of the target. He halved the bracket, ordered another round and was both amazed and elated to see a sudden belch of flame and smoke in the area of the target.
‘On target, three rounds gunfire.’ The gunner, Trooper Hilliard, kept his foot on the firing button while the loader, Corporal Arnold, slammed the rounds successively into the breech of the gun.
As Morrison watched what he thought was the end of an enemy anti-tank gun he was conscious of a distinst feeling of pleasure. But not for long. Suddenly the entire area around him seemed to erupt with bursting shells. Not having been under heavy fire before, he found the experience not a little alarming. He was wondering where the fire was coming from when there was a voice in his earphones.
‘What the hell do you reckon this is, sir?’ It was Corporal Gardner, the driver, speaking on the intercom.
‘Oh, I don’t know.’ Morrison tried to sound relaxed since he had absolutely no idea. ‘Enemy mortar or something, I expect.’
At that moment a shell landed just beside the tank with a huge explosion, which shook the tank and covered it in a shower of dirt. A piece of shrapnel struck the side, which resounded like a deafening gong.
‘Bloody heavy mortar!’ growled Gardner from the bowels of the tank.
Aizlewood had not been in his tank when it was destroyed. He had dismounted and crawled forward to a small ridge to get a better view of the country and see whether he could pinpoint the German gunner. He was returning to his tank when it was hit. Of his crew of four, three were killed and the fourth wounded. Disconsolately he had walked over to his squadron leader’s tank. It was while he was discussing with Goldsmid and Pillman what to do next that the shellfire suddenly burst all round them.
Morrison, at least, was in the comparative safety of his tank; only a direct hit would knock it out. But Goldsmid and his two troop leaders were unprotected, in the open, exposed to the fire. Quickly he told them to take cover, and then climbed back into his own tank while Aizlewood and Pillman sprinted towards Pillman’s tank. They never made it. A shell landed on top of them as they ran. Pillman was killed instantly and Aizlewood so bady wounded that he was later to lose a leg.
Goldsmid was puzzled; it seemed to him that the fire was coming from behind them. Fortunately it ceased as abruptly as it had started, but not before 7 Green Howards, the infantry battalion with which A Squadron were operating, had suffered many casualties, having been caught in the open. Sadly Goldsmid was right; the fire had indeed come from behind. An inquiry later showed that someone ashore had called for fire support. The request had been passed up the Army channels to the Naval HQ Ship, which allocated HMS Orion, a cruiser with 6-inch guns, and put her in touch with a spotter aircraft. Orion’s log clearly records all the details, salvo by salvo, ending on a triumphant note ‘Enemy tanks destroyed - well done’.
‘Enemy tanks destroyed - well done!’ HMS Orion’s 6-inch guns caused severe casualties to A Sqn 4/7 DG and the infantry. An example of excellent shooting but tragically poor target identification.
Lieutenant-Colonel Rodney Byron, commanding officer of 4/7 DG, decided that as they were only about a mile and a half short of what had always seemed to be a most optimistic objective, the advance should halt and they should sort out their casualties. A Squadron was to stay with the infantrymen until dark and then pull back into leaguer for the night.
Morrison heard Goldsmid’s radio order that the squadron should withdraw a short distance to better and more secure positions. As he moved back towards the low ground nearer the river, the ground became steeper and the surface, now pockmarked with shell-holes, very uneven. But the high corn concealed the dips and hollows. Suddenly one of his tracks slipped into a hidden hollow and the tank rolled over on its side. Only a little shaken, Morrison crawled out of the turret and was reassured to see an American Thunderbolt aircraft circling overhead. With a bit of luck he would see the yellow recognition panel behind the turret and would protect the tank from enemy interference. This comforting thought was rudely interrupted when he realised that the aircraft was diving straight for him. What followed was exactly as it appears in films - sparks from the wings, a rattle of machine-gun fire and a furrow of earth ploughed up a few yards away from the side of the tank.
Morrison squirmed quickly back into the turret, seized an orange smoke grenade and lobbed it into the corn. Anxiously he watched to see whether the smoke would develop in time to inform the pilot of his mistake. It didn’t; the second pass was correct for line but wrong for elevation. This time the bullets went a few feet over his head.
By now the orange smoke was billowing up into the sky. On his third run the pilot waggled his wings and disappeared over the horizon. Morrison breathed a sigh of relief that at least there was one pilot who was not a very good shot. To have been killed on D Day by an American fighter would indeed have been ironic.
As darkness approached and A Squadron prepared to withdraw into leaguer, to rearm and refuel for the next day’s operations, Morrison decided to use the cover of darkness to recover his tank. He and Gardner went back to guide forward a recovery vehicle, leaving Hilliard and Lance Corporal Carter, the hull gunner, crouching in a hedge beside the tank. As dusk gathered Hilliard and Carter dimly saw two figures approaching the tank. ‘Hardly likely to be a German patrol and certainly not one of ours’, thought Hilliard. The only reasonable explanation seemed to be a couple of local farmhands on the lookout for a bit of loot. He decided to move them on quickly and fired a burst from his Sten-gun over their heads. This had the desired effect as the two figures ran away at speed, encouraged by another over-head burst. (Some twenty-one years later Goldsmid and Morrison returned to the area on one of their annual Battlefield Tours. They decided to visit the farm a few hundred yards ahead. Over a glass of Calvados the local farmer explained how he had helped the Allies during the invasion. The only unfortunate experience had been on D Day itself, when he and his son went out at dusk to help the crew of a British tank which had turned over in a nearby field. But their efforts had not been welcomed by the British soldiers, who had chased them off by firing a machinegun at them, nearly killing them. Morrison decided not to reveal his part in the story!)
Lieutenant Alastair Morrison
Like other commanders, Goldsmid took stock of the situation at the end of D Day. He remembered his thoughts of just eighteen hours earlier - the mixed emotions of expectation and anticipation. He remembered, too, the sense of history in the making as the tracks of his tank first gained purchase on the sand of Normandy. Now A Squadron was over five miles inland, within a very short distance of its final objective, and it had been responsible for the capture of a considerable number of prisoners and the destruction of several anti-tank guns. Against this had to be set the loss of seven killed, four injured and four tanks destroyed. The casualties would be a bitter blow to a squadron which had lived and trained together for many months. The whole had become a close-knit team, with each man trusting, respecting and relying upon the others. Now some were gone. But without being in any way complacent Goldsmid, as he walked round talking to the tank crews as they replenished their tanks, was fully aware that A Squadron’s experience of D-Day could have been much worse, and that his hitherto unproven squadron had performed splendidly in its first battle.