CHAPTER SIX
The pressure which caused Panzer Lehr to call off its attack on Bayeux on 9 June centred around the capture of the small village of Audrieu by 1st Dorsets of 231 Brigade, and the advance further south by the tanks of 8 Armoured Brigade towards St Pierre and Tilly-sur-Seulles. A drive south through Audrieu, passing the Chateau, now an excellent hotel, leads onto the high ground of Le Haut d’Audrieu, Point 103, from where there are commanding views to the south and west. 4th/7th Royal Dragoon Guards secured this key area on 9 June. From here they watched a column of German tanks moving north-west through the low ground towards Bayeux - doubtless Major von Schönberg-Waidenberg leading his tank battalion of Panzer Lehr Division forward.
But while high ground, like Point 103, dominates the area, the fighting predominently took place in the close ‘bocage’ country. It was to be a slow and painful business for the British as they sought to expand their Normandy Beach-head. The Germans defended fiercely and the close country impeded the movement and nullified the firepower of the advancing tanks. Much of the fighting occurred in confused, viscious, close-range encounters between the infantry of both sides. The advantage, in this country, always lay with the defender. The attacker must accept heavy casualties in gaining his objective. Nowhere was the fighting more fierce than in the fields astride a small sunken lane just south of the village of Cristot on 11 June, D+5.
The ‘Bocage’ was difficult country for the tanks of both sides. A German Panther forces its way forward.
After its D Day successes 6 Green Howards advance on D+1 was less dramatic. They secured the St Léger feature, including the main Caen-Bayeux road, and advanced a further two miles south until they overlooked the railway line just west of Le Bas d’Audrieu, only to be pulled back to the St Leger feature later in the day, in line with the rest of 69 Infantry Brigade. On their right 151 Infantry Brigade established a position near the village of Condé-sur-Seulles. The Yorkshiremen were to remain there for the next three days.
‘There was nothing more serious than a little sniping, some shelling and a determined and skilful recce by German armoured cars - just enough enemy activity to keep the soldiers from any real rest. Patrolling and a stand-to at 4.30 am and 11.30 pm made the nights unpleasantly short.’
LIEUTENANT COLONEL ROBIN HASTINGS
But Sunday 11 June was to prove to be a terrible day for 6 Green Howards. The rain was sheeting down. ‘A lousy day for anything,’ thought Company Sergeant Major Stan Hollis, ‘anything, particularily war.’ Hollis was still commanding 16 Platoon of D Company, and they were advancing again. A relatively simple operation, they had been told. They just had to capture a small hill, thereby protecting the left flank of 8 Armoured Brigade who were to advance south. The operation seemed to be something of a rush, and the experienced Hollis knew that hurried operations could sometimes lack the detailed planning and preparation needed to ensure success. It had been a quiet morning, with nothing unusual in the wind, but around lunchtime Colonel Hastings had been summoned by the commander of 69 Brigade. The Green Howards were to be ready to move at 1400, for an unspecified task.
Hastings found his Brigadier, an elderly officer for whom he had little respect, with Brigadier Cracroft of 8 Armoured Brigade and Lieutenant Colonel Byron of 4/7 DG. 8 Armoured Brigade, with 1 Dorsets and 8 Durham Light Infantry under command, had earlier pushed forward south towards Tilly-sur-Seulles. The Durhams had briefly secured entry into the village, before being ejected by a German counter-attack. Another attack was to be made. The two brigadiers had just returned from a reconnaissance which had led them to a small hill just south of the village of Cristot. Accompanied by B Squadron 4/7 DG they had managed to drive almost to the top of the hill, encountering just a few Germans, who had been easily brushed aside. If the hill was held by infantry, the flank of the armoured advance would be protected. It would surely be a relatively simple business to send an infantry battalion to occupy this key piece of ground.
This, then, was the task for which Hastings and his Yorkshiremen were required at such short notice. In concept it sounded simple, though as speed was clearly important and time short, Hastings was unable to carry out a reconnaissance. He was not enthusiastic, considering it to be something of a wild plunge into the unknown. But, as the earlier reconnaissance had not been seriously opposed, it seemed unlikely that the Germans would stay and dispute possession of the hill. He could only hope that the task would not prove too difficult.
Hastings’ main worry was the country. This was the depth of the ‘bocage’. The small fields and orchards were surrounded by thick, high hedges. A journey of some half a mile across country might involve crossing eight or more of these hedges. Furthermore, the country was interlaced with a network of narrow roads and tracks, often sunk deep between high banks, surmounted by hedges. With a view seldom further than about 80 yards, a few resolute men could easily hold up an advance of a large formation, causing many casualties. It was particularity unpleasant country for tanks which found the banks and hedges most difficult to cross. And, while they could not make best use of the long range of their tank guns, they were well within shot of any small infantry parties, which, armed with hand-held antitank weapons, might lie concealed in the hedges until a suitable target presented itself at almost unmissable range. Tank crews felt naked and vulnerable in this close country, and Hastings remembered the apprehension he had felt back in England when he first thought about fighting in the ‘bocage’ country.
He decided to advance with two companies leading; C on the left, B on the right. They would be accompanied by the tanks of B Squadron 4/7 DG. Behind them would follow D and A Companies with C Squadron, while A Squadron would bring forward the battalion’s mortars and anti-tank guns once the objective had been captured. Between and just behind his two leading companies, Hastings’ own headquarters would move up a convenient track which led towards the summit of the hill. This track would be the centre-line for the attack.
Initially the advance went without incident. But it was a nerve-racking business; each hedge proved to be something of a mental as well as a physical hurdle. As they forced their way through it the Yorkshiremen half expected their arrival in the next field to be greeted by a murderous hail of fire from some unseen Germans at very close range. Lack of preparatory time had prevented an artillery plan being arranged and registered. Fire support in the event of trouble would depend on the efficiency of the artillery obvervation officers, advancing with the leading companies.
British infantrymen slog it out yard by yard through the Normandy country lanes.
Tucked away in the Normandy countryside, Cristot is a difficult village to locate. Perhaps the simplest way to approach it is from Tilly-sur-Seulles. Take the Caen road (D13) out of Tilly, cross the River Seulles, up a hill bending left and then right. As the road straightens out watch for a narrow turning left marked Rue de Cristot, just before a house. (If you pass large gates to a château you have gone too far!) Cristot is 3 kilometres along the D 172. About half way along there is a T-junction. Turn right. After a sharp left bend the road goes gently downhill. About three hundred yards after the bend, shortly before entering the village of Cristot, a narrow track, with high banks and trees on both sides, crosses the road. Pull in on the right and you will find yourself at the bottom of a sunken lane which marked the centre-line of the attack.
If, however, you are following the story on the ground, follow the D 82 south from the scene of Chapter 4 at Creully. After ½ mile turn left onto D 158B, signed Coulombs and Audrieu. Go through Coulombs, over the fly-over of the main Caen/Bayeux road, and through Loucelles. Just short of Audrieu there is a second fly-over, crossing the railway. The road enters Audrieu and joins the D 82, signed now to Tilly-sur-Seulles and Villers-Bocage. In the middle of Audrieu, opposite the church, turn left, signed Cristot. This small country road takes about six right-angle bends before it enters Cristot. At the T junction in Cristot turn right, and stop about 200 yards after leaving the village, where a narrow sunken lane crosses the road.
Walk up this lane on the east side (left if you are coming from Cristot village; right if coming from Tilly) until it rises to ground level. The trees astride the lane are much thinner than they were in 1944. To your left new farm buildings obscure a white house, which can be seen as you progress further up the lane. The French farmers have grubbed out many of the hedges, and the whole area looks much more open than it did all those years ago. In particular the field on your right was in fact about four separate fields, surrounded by high hedges. Looking half right you can see the top of the hill, more a gentle rise than a hill, about 400 yards ahead. This was the Green Howards objective. On 11 June 1944 it was hidden by the dense hedges and trees.
C and B Companies crossed the road south of Cristot without opposition and started to climb the gentle slope towards their objective. Suddenly C Company on the left came under withering fire from the area of the white farmhouse about 100 yards ahead. Almost immediately its commander, Captain Chambers, who had been wounded on the beach on D Day, was killed. He had only assumed command when Captain Linn was killed on D Day. It was, therefore, the second time in less than a week that C Company had seen their commander killed as he led them forward. As the infantry casualties mounted, so too some of the leading tanks of B Squadron were hit. On the left the attack ground to a halt.
On the right B Company fared no better. It too came under heavy fire and the advance broke down, despite the efforts of Major Young, the company commander, who walked about the fields encouraging his men forward, in full view of the enemy, until he was wounded as he tried to outflank the German position. His life was saved by his runner, Private Leary, who, though wounded himself, managed to drag Young back into cover, dress his wounds and make certain that he was evacuated. (For his actions that day Leary was awarded the Military Medal.)
Hastings was now faced with something of a dilemma. Both his leading companies had been halted by heavy and totally unexpected fire, and had sustained many casualties, including both company commanders. In B Company the second-in-command, Captain Mitchell, had also been killed. But the battalion objective was still some way ahead, and was clearly far more strongly defended than had been anticipated. Hastings decided upon another tack. A Company, moving behind B Company on the right, would take over the lead and try to outflank the enemy, thereby continuing the advance as well as taking some of the pressure off the battered B and C Companies. Having given orders for this, Hastings set about trying to sort out the confusion in these two companies. But as he and his small headquarters moved up the narrow track they too came under fire. A battalion headquarters is neither strong enough nor properly equipped to deal with a strongly held enemy position. Hastings withdrew quickly to the road and called up his sole remaining reserve, D Company. When Major Lofthouse joined him at the road/track junction, Hastings ordered him to clear the track ahead.
Lofthouse made a quick and simple plan. D Company would advance up the track with 16 Platoon on the left and 17 and 18 Platoons on the right. Hollis, at the head of 16 Platoon, was to keep level with 17 Platoon, with a tank moving slowly up the track between the two platoons.
D Company moved gingerly forward. They could hear the heavy firing in the fields on both sides of them; at least the high banks of the lane would give them some protection. But, conversely, they would be completely exposed to fire coming down the track. They had advanced about two-thirds of the way when they were greeted by a short burst of fire. Hollis knew that sound immediately - the tell-tale rapid burst of a Spandau machine-gun. On his right the tank had stopped, and he could see that 17 Platoon had already taken casualties. Clearly the machine-gun was sited at the far end of the lane, dominating the entire approach. Hollis crawled forward a little to see whether he could pin-point the source of the trouble. Suddenly his eye was caught by a slight movement at the foot of a tree at the end of the lane. The exact spot is arrowed on the photograph opposite. Hollis was half way up the lane on the left. As he watched, two heads appeared above a mound of earth. Their appearance was followed by a sharp burst of fire which hammered down the track. The heads then quickly bobbed down behind their cover. Hollis continued to watch. After a few seconds the heads appeared again, fired another burst and again disappeared. And again… and again. Hollis noticed how methodical they were. Typically German - carefully observing a regualtion burst and a regulation pause.’ To Hollis this was intolerable. Why should two stereotyped Germans be allowed to hold up the advance and cause these casualties? The situation demanded instant action. Their next burst, he vowed, would be their last.
German Spandau team operating in the lanes of the bocage. CSM Hollis took two machine gunners on in a frontal attack in the sunken lane.
German machine gunners at the head of the lane (arrowed) were holding up the Green Howards - CSM Hollis, noted their methodical operation of the weapon and timed his attack accordingly.
CSM Stan Hollis VC
Opening his ammunition pouch Hollis fumbled around inside for a grenade. But all his hand drew out was a shaving brush and a pair of socks. Cursing his lack of preparedness he turned to one of his soldiers and demanded a grenade. This was quickly produced. As the Germans ducked down after the next burst he flung the grenade. As his fingers released it he realised with horror that he had forgotten to pull out the safety pin. But where most men would have started again with another grenade, Hollis could not wait that long. In the split second that it took for the grenade to land just short of the mound, he realised that although he knew that the grenade would not explode, the Germans did not. It was only human nature that they would wait crouching behind their cover until the grenade had exploded. So they crouched and waited. This was the position in which Hollis found them a few seconds later, after a quick solo dash up the lane. One burst from his Sten gun and the way was clear for D Company to continue the advance.
Following on behind, Hastings reached the point where the sunken lane rises to ground level. He paused to take stock by the tree where Hollis just despatched the two Germans. To his right he could see that A and B Companies had joined up and were nearing the far end of the field. To his left, too, things looked a little better. C Company had just managed to capture the white farmhouse. Several tanks were burning in the field. One, clearly out of control, was driving round and round in a tight circle like some macabre merry-go-round. The fields on both sides seemed full of casualties and a consider-able number of German prisoners were being herded together. But two points were abundantly clear. First, any idea of a quick and easy move to occupy some almost undefended hill was clearly wrong. The place was alive with Germans, who were clearly of a quality not hitherto encountered by the Green Howards since they had come ashore five days before. Secondly, casualties in the close fighting against this most resolute enemy, who had almost physically to be dug out of his positions, were extremely high and still mounting, and the final objective was still several hundred yards ahead. Hastings took a deep breath, and ordered the attack to push on.
Doggedly the Yorkshiremen fought their way forward against an enemy equally determined not to give ground. A little further on, Major Honeyman, A Company Commander, reported that his sergeant-major had gone forward to try to extricate part of a platoon which had advanced a little too far, and was himself pinned down by German machine-gun fire. Honeyman asked his Colonel’s permission to go forward to help him. Hastings was not enthusiastic. Honeyman could go forward a bit to see if he could locate the exact position and possibly signal to them, but he was not to get involved in any foolhardy attempt to get them out. Honeyman made his way slowly forward, but had gone only a short distance when, peering over a hedge to see if he could locate his men, he was shot in the head and killed. This was tragedy indeed. Honeyman had already proved to be an outstanding company commander. He died before the announcement that he had been awarded the Military Cross for his leadership of A Company on King Beach on D Day. Ironically Company Sergeant Major Calvert brought his party back safely about an hour later, having fought an extremely gallant and determined action, for which he was later awarded the Distinguished Conduct Medal.
Clearly the attack had again stuck fast, and, with the tanks also unable to move forward, Hastings had no alternative but to order his battalion to halt. Once again he considered the situation. A and B Companies now only had one officer left each; C and D had two each. A large number of key NCOs were also dead or wounded. Hastings ordered the battalion to prepare to hold the ground they had taken. They had shot their bolt; if Brigade Headquarters still wanted the summit of the hill, then another battalion would have to pass through 6 Green Howards in order to take it.
For some hours the battalion held their position. Among those who worked tirelessly that dreadful evening was Padre Henry Lovegrove. A much respected member of the battalion, Lovegrove seemed oblivious to the constant fire as he tended the wounded and looked after the dead and the dying. He was to be awarded the Military Cross for his actions that day. As the evening wore on Hastings heard the sound of heavy fighting behind him, across the other side of the road in the area of Point 103, from which the Yorkshiremen had launched their attack. Clearly a German counter-attack was in danger of cutting them off. It was now beginning to get dark, and the feeling of growing isolation was compounded by knowledge of the fact that the tanks of the 4/7 DG would shortly have to pull back to a safe area to carry out their normal night-time maintenance. Hastings radioed back to his brigadier, and was somewhat relieved when his advice that his battalion should withdraw was accepted. This was achieved with the tanks of the 4/7 DG carrying back as many of the Green Howards wounded as could be recovered.
11 June was as bad a day for 6 Green Howards as could possible be imagined. They had suffered nearly 250 casualties in just a few hours fighting. In short, the nucleus of a fine battalion had been lost, with nothing to show for it.
‘There were innumerable lessons to be learned from this attack. It occurred at a time when the Army’s initial advance was losing impetus; the contact battle was merging into static warfare. Those are difficult and often expensive moments. Certainly the enemy were not deeply entrenched, but were using the natural cover and protection of hedgerow and ditch. In this thick leafy country the advantage is with the defenders, who can stay still and hold their fire until the last moment. Tanks are blind in this country. By 11 June the enemy was recovering from his first shock. He was fighting to the death. It was too late to plunge into deep unrecced country with insufficient knowledge of the strength or disposition of the enemy.’
LIEUTENANT COLONEL ROBIN HASTINGS
Colonel Hastings at the Sunken Lane in 1975.
The attack on Tilly-sur-Seulles by 8 Armoured Brigade never materialised. The Germans struck first, with the tanks of 2nd Battalion Panzer Lehr Regiment advancing north towards Point 103, the high ground at Le Haut d’Audrieu. Four German tanks managed to break into the British position there before they were destroyed and the rest driven off. In this brief but fierce battle Major von Schönberg-Waidenberg, as ever at the head of his battalion, was killed. The rest then withdrew back to the Tilly area, licking their wounds. It was the sound of this fighting which Hastings heard behind him, as he and his Yorkshiremen struggled to secure the ground that they had won at such cost.
The battle for the Sunken Lane was just one of many small, local but fierce encounters as the Allies systematically ground-down the German forces in the weeks following D Day. It was one of those remarkable coincidences of war that both sides should seek to secure that small Hill 102 near Cristot at almost the same time. To the British it was just a matter of flank protection for an impending attack. To the Germans it was vital ground in their defence of the area. As can be seen from the top, the view to the east and south is one of long fields of view and fire, very different from the close bocage country to the west. Indeed the view stretches almost to Carpiquet airfield and the outskirts of Caen. Had the Green Howards taken this hill on D+5, as they so nearly did, the entire German position west of Caen would have become most unpleasant. Look at the ring contours on a map and none of this is apparent. It is not surprising that none of the British commanders realised the true significance of that hill until, on 25 Jun, D+19, it was finally taken. Only then did it become clear why soldiers from 12 SS Panzer Division (Hitlerjugend) were so quickly moved there, by chance between the two brigadiers’ reconnaissance and the Green Howards attack.
British troops moving up through the hedgerows - a nerve-racking experience.
Cristot church. The scene shortly after the fight in the sunken lane.
Cristot church today.
So often there exists an unwritten chivalry in war. Like the boxer who strives to knock out his opponent, but would never continue the assault as his victim lies unconscious on the floor, so in war, the treatment of enemy casualties and prisoners is almost invariably sympathetic and correct. The medical services of both sides treat enemy casualties with the same care that they treat their own. There are frequent stories of the gallantry of medical staff, collecting casualties, both friend and foe, under intense fire. It seems that to both sides, even in the heat of battle, the sight of the medical officer, with the Red Cross on his vehicle, is respected; he is probably not fired upon intentionally. But this chivalry does not seem to have extended to the 12 SS Panzer Division (Hitlerjugend). Those who fought against the Hitler Youth in Normandy show none of the respect with which they now talk about most of their former enemies. A bitterness tends to creep into their voices, ever after more than 50 years. The story of the ‘execution’ of 50 Canadian prisoners at Audrieu on 8 June is well chronicled and has coloured the view of many.
Treatment of enemy casualties and prisoners is almost invariably sympathetic. This young soldier of the Wehrmacht, in obvious distress, receives attention from an American soldier. Had he been a member of an SS unit his chances for survival after surrendering would have been considerably less.
The battle for the Sunken Lane has its own nasty epilogue. Among those wounded and captured was a young Lieutenant of the 4/7 DG. Shortly after the battle two men from the regiment visited his mother in England to say that he had been seen to be wounded and was probably now a prisoner of war. ‘No’, she replied, ‘he’s dead.’ When the two suggested that there was no proof of this she said that his labrador, which normally lay quietly in the corner of the room suddenly started to whine at about 6pm on 11 June. It whined until 9pm, then curled up and went quietly to sleep. ‘I know’, said the mother, ‘that that was when he was dying’. Only later in the war did the horrific truth emerge. A soldier of 12 SS was captured by the British during the Falaise battle in August. Under interrogation he told the story of a wounded British officer who was captured and tied to the broken limb of a tree. Whenever the British artillery opened up on the German position he was dragged out into the open. He took 3 hours to die. Research pinpointed this story to Hill 102 near Cristot, from 6 to 9pm on 11 June. War is indeed a gruesome business.
To follow these battles conveniently on the ground, rather than in the strictly chronological order in which they are laid out in this book, go next to Lingèvres, Chapter 8. From the Sunken Lane, follow the D 172 south-west to Tilly-sur-Seulles. On joining the D 13 on the edge of Tilly, turn right, go through the town and on west. Shortly after leaving Tilly you will pass the Commonwealth War Graves Cemetery, where lie buried many of those who died in the intensive fighting in the area in June 1944. Continue west for 1 ½ miles until you reach Lingèvres.