Friday, August 3, 2007

Lieutenant Charles F Richardson 1942



PROLOGUE
THE WAR YEARS 1939-1945
CHARLES FREDERICK RICHARDSON

This is an attempt to describe the environment that prevailed in the years leading up to the outbreak of war. Our family was never destitute like some other families during the thirties. The country itself was one of high moral standard. There were never the gray areas of today. There was a right way and a wrong way. It was a black and white decision-making era. It was a time when people in authority were held in esteem, teachers in the schools were respected and obeyed, politicians were known to be honest, at least we never doubted that fact.

In our town St. Stephen N.B, there were many Veterans from the First World War. We all had lost kin during the conflict. My Uncle Stanley Thompson died in France. As a consequence there was ingrown dislike for the German Nation. In the early 30’s when Hitler was rising to power everyone knew there would be another war. The youth of that era were aware of the growing world tension. Almost, without exception, we would join the cadets within the schools. It was never mandatory but it just seemed the right thing to do.

Upon graduating from High School in ‘39 it was natural to join the reserve army and at the first opportunity I joined the Carlton & York Reserve Regiment. There was never any doubt amongst my peers we would serve in some capacity in the war. It was never with a great ambition to rise in the ranks. We all had desires to serve in the army, navy or air force. So many wanted to be air force pilots, it held a lot of glamour and many of my peers were accepted for aircrew. I applied without success and was not willing to join unless I could become a pilot or be a member of the aircrew.

I can think of very few members of the High School classes of the 30’s who did not join the forces. Everyone in my High School graduating class served in some capacity in the armed forces.

I am sure that every one of them, if they had it to do again, would make the same decision.

It was the right thing to do and we felt it had to be done.

The summer of 39 was a dream for me. The joy of completing my school years in the small town of St. Stephen, New Brunswick certainly had many advantages over the big city environment. The graduating class of 1939 consisted of 40 persons and the majority were girls. This small town environment made it possible for me to participate in all the sports activities. I was a part of all the programs, track, basketball, football and my favorite sport was hockey. I made the hockey team in my first year of High School and was captain in my final year. I was also active with cadets.

THE EARL SCOVIL MEDAL

“To the boy in Grade 1X, X, or X1 who, in the judgment of both teachers and the pupils, has done most by exemplary conduct to elevate the tone of the school.” Thus read the citation of the first Earl Scovil Medal. In 1923 and later years the citation read, “To the boy in the graduating class who has done most by exemplary conduct to elevate the tone of the school.” In 1939 I was the recipient.

John W Scovil, M. L .A. and Mrs. Scovil gave the medal as a memorial to the boys of the graduating class of 1914 who gave their lives for their country; their son Earl Markee Scovil was one of three from that class. The first medal was presented in 1922. The year of my birth, which incidentally had nothing whatsoever to do with the awarding of any medals.

It was with honor that I received this medal in the year 1939, when all the rumors of the war were circulating. Within our home very little discussion at the dinner table was about the war in June. I was concerned as to what my future would be and felt that it was time to get to work. This was a period in New Brunswick when very few jobs were available. The Provincial Government had a few work projects available for the young people. Through our local Member I made an application for work and in the middle of July was accepted into one of the programs.

It meant going to Sussex about 100 miles from home. I was fortunate as Mother’s sister, Carrie Burgess, lived in the little village of Apohocqai, nestled on the banks of the Kennebecasis River five miles from Sussex. This was truly an experience, having never been farther than 20 miles from home and I reported to a camp manager in the wooded area outside of the town. There were about twenty in the camp, mostly French speaking from the northern part of the province, my French was very limited and their English matched, however it was a great learning experience. I later was a member of the North Shore (N.B) Regiment, where the French I picked up helped.

The project was to collect Saw Fly Cocoons, the moth, which had been responsible for destroying the Spruce trees in the province. We would be taken into the woods, given an empty Carnation Milk can and on hand and knees turn the moss over, find the cocoons. It was our responsibility to fill a can in the morning and one in the afternoon. It was probably the most boring job one could imagine. Some of my peers from home quit the job. I guess I was too stubborn to admit to Dad that I quit. It certainly prepared me for the days ahead even though it was not appreciated at the time. The camp was very rustic indeed; the toiletry system was a large ditch with a pole extending from one end to the other, room to sit, but not to read.

We did have a good time in the evenings; we formed a softball team and challenged the locals. We had a good pitcher. A few of us were pretty good hitters, so our fame spread and we had many games. In spite of the lack of creature comforts it turned out to be an enjoyable summer. In September the Camp Manager asked me if I would like to join a crew constructing a telephone line into the Forestry Camps in a remote area around Salmon River, near St.Martins. After digging in the moss for the summer, it sounded great, I accepted since there was no prospect for work elsewhere.

While in Sussex I applied for a position with the Royal Bank, in St.Stephen. I passed the tests but the position was awarded to Rowland Frazee, one of my friends and the son of the local manager. Rollie ended up as Chairman of the Board of the Royal Bank.

The job constructing the telephone line was fun from the start. There were only six of us with a fine crew boss. We were billeted in a large abandoned bunkhouse, which had been used when a large lumber company had operated in the area. It was a spooky building. The stories told were made to make one aware of the past and ghosts were supposedly around. We never did encounter one but it was eerie at times especially in thunderstorms. This job ended in late October when I cut my instep with a double bladed ax. It too had a good result. It meant going home in time to enjoy the month of November hunting with Dad & Mother. I was on compensation until the end of December—the one and only time.

September 1939, I had the long weekend at home. Brother Jim, who worked in The Bank of Nova Scotia, and I left the cottage together to attend the Sunday night band concert in Calais, Maine. When we arrived in St.Stephen we heard war was declared, the family was at the cottage, in those days we had no radio or other means of communication. The news was not flashed the way it is today. We were the ones who told our folks when we returned to the cottage. The discussion revolved around when and if Jim would be enlisting as he was of age.

In December I decided my best choice was to go back to School and prepare for University, which I did, however in early 1940 Jim enlisted in the army. Colonel Jim Calkin a native of Woodstock N.B. was employed in St.Stephen. He recruited the North Shore Regiment and Jim became his orderly room Sergeant. The Regiment remained in Woodstock until the fall of 1941 when they proceeded overseas.

It seems my footsteps followed Jim in so many ways. I succeeded him in the Bank of Nova Scotia in February 1940 where I remained until enlisting in the Army in January 1942. I spent basic training in Fredericton, was promoted to Lance Corporal, and kept on the staff as an instructor.

In May 1942 Jim arrived home from overseas, having been selected to attend Officers Training School at Brockville Ontario. While in Woodstock he had courted Ruth True and soon after arriving home they became engaged. The wedding date was to be August 8/42 after graduating from officer's school. On July 2/42 Jim’s platoon was selected to take part in an exercise in Ottawa celebrating Dominion Day Holiday. The plan was to have the platoon arrive in Ottawa on the train, jump into the canal with full battle dress, heavy packs and all, swim the canal and take command of the police station. It was a disaster from the start. The canal was not wide. Safety precautions were not in place, no boat or personnel in position to help. Several of the men on entering the water sank to the bottom. They became stuck in the silt and mud. Two cadets drowned. Jim was one of them. I was advised of this the morning of July 3/42 while in Fredericton and was on my way home shortly thereafter

This was my families and the town of St.Stephen’s first encounter with a local boy being a casualty as a result of the war. Jim had been so well known in the area. He had been a top grade student in School, a better than average ballplayer. He was well known in the community through the bank and the local Baptist Church we attended. It was the first military funeral in the town. The army had sent a number of high-ranking officers. They recognized how negligent the army had been in not having safety procedures in place at the time of the incident. It was the largest funeral ever in St.Stephen. Never had I felt so sorry for anyone than for Mother & Dad and Ruth True. This seemed such a waste and carelessness, yet there were many incidents later in my army career, where lack of common sense was the cause of accidents.

After a short leave I returned to Fredericton. In August I was sent to Saint John to Brigade Headquarters where after a number of IQ tests I was selected for Officers Training School in Brockville. The Allies were preparing for the invasion of ItalyEurope and knew they would need officers. However I have always had doubts whether I would have been one of the elect if Jim had not drowned. In any event it was off to Brockville in September for three months.








The three months at the Officers Training School in Brockville was one of the best times in the army. The weather in September, October, and November was excellent. The location was super. The class was from New Brunswick and there was no dissension. We worked hard, both physically and mentally, everyone had one purpose in mind: To be the very best.

Graduation day arrived the 5th of December. The group from Fredericton graduated; we received our “PIP” indicating we were now officers of His Majesty’s Service. We had been wearing white shoulder flashes, (indicating we were officer candidates), for the last four months. We could now wear our officers' uniforms with great pride and dignity. After a short leave at home I reported to Camp Utopia just 15 miles from St.Stephen, which meant I got home most weekends.

This did not last very long. Camp Utopia was far from what the name conveyed. The camp was in the initial stage of construction. There were a number of huts completed, which housed the private soldiers. The officers were billeted in tents. The weather was in one deep freeze; the temperature never rose above 20 below F. We were in tents, it was so cold that when the bacon and eggs were served at breakfast they were stone cold by the time we reached the table. In my tent there was a kerosene heater on which I heated a couple of bricks I had scrounged and placed in the bottom of my bedroll. This helped somewhat but it was a very cold period, on top of that, the kerosene heater emitted a dark coal like lining on everything we wore, in our hair and body. When I went home on the weekend it would take at least three baths before I was presentable for a date.

After two weeks of this miserable cold, Col. Ralston, Minister of Defense, paid us a visit and promptly closed the camp until the construction was further advanced. We were immediately given leave until after Christmas and told to report to a Camp in Sussex. It was great having the season at home. It was at the local soda fountain, where all the young people hung out, that we received word Pearl Harbor had been attacked by the Japanese. These were wonderful days at home especially with all my peers knowing I was an officer, treated with respect due to position alone. This was ever so true in the army and, it always amazed me, even to this day, how certain people are moved by status alone.

Our stay in Sussex was long enough for us to qualify for that second “PIP”. We left full lieutenants. We were no longer “ ONE PIP WONDERS” and there was no way of knowing we were newly appointed boy wonders. I had my hopes of returning to Fredericton squashed, as I was to report to Edmundston for my tenure at the basic training center. This again was a great experience. I had a Great Aunt there and they were most gracious, however, I do think my Uncle in Law became a little disturbed as I took quite a fancy to my cousin Margery Mc Kinley. I completed my three months there and was returned to Camp Utopia for advanced training and to await shipment overseas

It seemed every where I was posted in the army some clown wanted me to stay on staff when my one desire was to get to England and to the North Shore Regiment. It became necessary for me to parade before Colonel Manson to plead my case and inform him it would be in the best interest of all parties if they shipped me out on the next consignment. Everyone recognized it was only a matter of time until the invasion of Europe would be taking place and I wanted to be a part of it. This may have been youthful naiveté on my part, however it was the way many of us felt at that time. It was a battle of good against evil. We knew Hitler had to be defeated.

In early August there was a large contingent shipped out of Utopia and we were on our way overseas. We sailed out of Halifax on the Queen Mary, after four days at sea, landed in the Forth of Firth, transported to Glasgow, boarded a train and arrived in Aldershot England, which was the reinforcement camp for the Canadian Army. It seemed at every whistle stop on this train ride we were greeted by local volunteers with coffee and scones. This made a big hit with all the troops; we had never experienced this treatment at home.

Aldershot proved to be an interesting experience, the officers shared billets and I was bunked with George Fawcett, a special friend of Brother Jim. They had returned to Canada from the Regiment for officers Training together. George was a fine officer; he distinguished himself well in action, was severely wounded in the invasion and later died from the wounds while on his honeymoon in Canada.

Our life at Aldershot was really on the dull side unless one was fortunate to be sent on courses. I was on a couple of Transport Training courses where I became quite proficient driving all types of vehicles: started out on motor bikes, the old Nortons and Harley Davidsons, graduated to the big truck transports and anti gun carriers. However these were brief respites from the routine back at Aldershot and I did not seem to be getting close to my desire to join the regiment and again felt stymied and frustrated.

Again my relationship with Jim’s service played a big part in my getting to the Regiment. Colonel Jim Calkins was now the Camp Commandant at Aldershot. In what I felt was a daring move decided to ask for an interview---after all he knew the family from his years in St.Stephen and with Jim in the Regiment. It proved to be the answer, Colonel Calkin reprimanded me for not reporting earlier, after small chit chat he wanted to know what I wanted to do in the army, told him I wanted to go to the regiment as quickly as possible. This was in late September ‘43 and from that time on the courses were coming my way one after another so life was not dull from then on.

In early December Col. Calkin called me into his office to advise me I was on my way to the North Shore Regiment to serve as an Increment officer---this meant I would be one of the first reinforcement officers to land after the D-Day landings. Just before Christmas 1943 I was on my way to Bournmouth in the south of England. This was a pleasant trip and Bill Hayworth from Saint John accompanied me on the train. We shared many adventures over the next year or two. Bill was one of the few officers who made it to VE Day. He had been with the Regiment prior to this time and was returning from a course.

My welcome to the regiment was more than I expected. I was posted to B Company where Bob Forbes was Company Commander. He had been the Adjutant when Jim was orderly room Sargeant. Once again Jim’s influenced my army career and again to the good. The other officers in the company all had known Jim. While I knew I had to live up to his reputation it did make the integration into the Regiment much easier.

I was assigned to # 4 platoon and enjoyed every moment of the training. The platoon officer allowed me to pretty much take over the platoon, not as I discovered out of concern for my welfare, but he was happy to have some one take over. He was not the most ambitious officer and was inclined to laziness. We were involved with infantry schemes of all kinds and it was a new experience for me to be working at the company level during the various training exercises. In Canada we had our own platoons without thinking of the big picture involving companys and the entire Regiment. It was a great learning experience and one that came in handy in the future.

It was interesting how I happened to land on D-Day, as explained, I was the INCREMENT officer, in the normal course of events I would be in England on D-Day waiting to go into Europe as a re-enforcement officer. In early February the platoon under the Lieutenant was on a weeks-training exercise outside of Bournmouth, near a small village of Beully, about twenty-five miles from company headquarters

We set camp up on the edge of a golf course, pitched our tents and spent the week in the one location. This was a period of time learning how to handle Bangalor Torpedos; a large pipe filled with explosives designed to blow a hole in the concertino wire that was strung along the shoreline in Europe. We were also doing night exercises, as well as mortar training.

Everything was proceeding quite well and again the platoon was pretty well in my hands as the officer in charge felt he was on holidays. We had been issued a number of phosphorus grenades and while I had the platoon out on field exercises, the Lieutenant at the camp area decided to try out a few of the phosphorus grenades---the only problem was he threw them onto the golf greens themselves. You can imagine the holes they made on the greens—they were something to behold. However the locals did not appear during the weekdays and we were back to Bournmouth on the Saturday.

Monday morning, all hell broke loose, the Golf Club Members were willing to hang and quarter the guilty party and we all came under suspicion. Major Forbes questioned me as to how stupid I could be to do something like that, after protesting my innocence, he demanded that I tell him who did it. Since I was not at the golf course at the time I told him it would only be guessing if I named anyone. Of course he did find out who it was and within a few days the officer was back in Aldershot. I was advised I would be part of the D-Day landing. The moral of the episode is not to tangle with an Englishman’s Golf Course.

The months of February to May were one large scheme after another. We made many landings on the English coast using all the equipment we would need for a landing on the continent. We scaled cliffs; we used the Bangalor Torpedoes, Piat Guns, and mortars and worked with Tanks equipped with flails to allow us to go through mine fields. Every time we went on another scheme there was new equipment on display.

In early May we moved to the south of England, near Portsmouth, where we were confined to a staging camp. All leaves were canceled and due to the confinement of the area our training took a sudden halt. We did what we could in the interim; many of us were on short courses in the first weeks of May. Gerry Moran and I attended a two-week battle course. I thought the previous ones I had been on were tough but they were child’s play compared to this one. Several officers were sent back to Aldershot with black marks on their careers

On our return to the Regiment there were briefing sessions, all the officers of the 3rd Canadian Army attended a briefing from General Montgomery. This was an eye opener to all of us. He certainly was a dynamic character—upon entering the stage at a huge auditorium he told everyone to cough and get it over with. He did not want to hear a cough or any hacking during his briefing—believe me it was the quietest meeting I ever attended—you could hear a pin drop.

On June the 4th we broke camp and were on our way to Southampton. We boarded the Landing Ship Infantry, the “CLAN LAMONT”. Over the course of the next few years I was transported on this vessel four times, once to France on D-Day, back to England when wounded in July, back to Europe and from Germany to England in May 1946.

We were on the ship for a longer period than planned as we were scheduled to land on the 5th of June, due to the weather the plan was postponed till the 6th, I was privy to an interesting conversation between Major Mc Naughton, who was in his early forties, and Major Daughney, who was in his late thirties, both these officers had been in the militia for years and were original officers with the Regiment. The evening before D-Day the discussion turned to “what will happen if anything happens to us”, these young officers will never be able to take over. In retrospect it was a concern and it was only days after that we lost both these fine officers. The lesson I learned at a very young age: “ anyone of us can be replaced no matter how important we may feel”.

On the eve of June 5th we set sail out of the Southampton Harbor. The sight was thousands of ships of all sizes and shapes slowly moving out to sea. It was a miracle in its own that so many ships would find their way to the Cherbourg peninsula and land the troops at the exact location they were to be dropped. It was a sight that will live forever in my memory.

There were 39 men in my platoon when we landed at St.Aubin sur Mer in the first wave assault and that night there were 23. We were fortunate, we never lost anyone on the beach itself, we had scaled the wall, traversed a mined area without mishap. It was in the town itself along the front street that we came under sniper fire and the shelling started. There was a pillbox heavily armed, which we had to take care off. Once this was accomplished a number of prisoners were taken. A few of who were still in their slippers or socks, it eased up a bit. It was a long day and our casualties mounted, as there were still snipers and shelling to contend with.

We moved out of the town in the afternoon and after a couple of brief encounters with the enemy, which we took care of, we formed a defensive position for the night. It was a dark night and I have never seen such a sight. There was continuous shelling; the beauty of the night was mirrored with tracer bullets coming across the sky from every angle. While we had more casualties than anticipated the platoon conducted it well. I was very proud of the way the day had progressed. I still had all my NCO’S and this was a big plus.

The men huddled in slit trenches or did turns on sentry duty, awed by the enemy planes overhead, the bombing and shelling at the beaches. We experienced strong feeling of relief following tense hours of battle, close brushes with death, and the constant meeting with the unexpected. Emotions ran deep as we thought of close friends who had died or were wounded on the beaches, not knowing their fate. My close friend Lt. Gerry Moran was shot through the back, piercing his lung. I later found out he had spent the entire day on the beaches behind the wall. He was later transferred to England and after a lengthy recovery is still going strong in Fredericton. N.B... The North Shore had come through with all odds against them, they had passed with honor their toughest test. Sleep came to very few that first night, this was for real.


The following are excerpts from the History of the North Shore Regiment, covering the landing on D-Day.

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THE RADAR STATION

During June 7ththe 8th Brigade was engaged in clearing out by-passed snipers who were still troublesome in the rear areas, and in making an unsuccessful attack against the fortified radar station west of Douvres-la- Deliivrande, a formidable position which actually held out until June 17.”

C.P.Stacey War Historian

June 7th turned out to be a very busy day. The Regiment was to clear the woods leading to the Radar Station. This was slow work with so many trenches and prepared positions to be cleared. We made progress toward the objective where the Cameron Highlanders were giving machine gun support but were having their carriers knocked out by shelling. The Germans had their reliable 88’s covering the surrounding area of the station. This artillery piece had exceptional accuracy. It was one of the finest artillery guns used in the war with deadly accuracy.

The roads around the station were gravel, one lane with room for single vehicles only. The Germans allowed the Cameron’s to move up in a single line with five carriers ready to spray the station with machine gun fire. Once they were lined up, the enemy would put the last one out of commission so the remainder were sitting ducks, with no room to reverse direction. The Germans than proceeded to knock them off, one by one. It certainly reminded me of the days of early spring at the lake when the otters or muskrats would use the same tactic against the ducklings trailing the mother.

We were witnesses to this debacle, completely helpless to aid our comrades. We were pinned down with machine gun fire from the Radar station. The enemy had every angle covered and we lost a number of men. The Germans had a nasty habit of letting the wheat and grass grow to its normal height then mow the area about a hundred yards in front of their position, we could maneuver through the long grass and wheat, but once we hit the open space it was good bye.

June 7th this was our second day in combat, it is surprising how quickly we learn when some one is shooting real bullets at you and shelling is all around. There is a time to be a hero and a time to make sure you stay alive to be a hero. This was a lesson not everyone learned during those first few days. The following excerpt from the Regimental History was a lesson in the futility of not listening to advice, once in awhile we met stubborn Englishmen in our journey.

“Bring up a Petard”

Lt. C.F.Richardson, of “B” Company, had many reinforcements in his platoon and found it pretty hot as machine gun fire swept the woods and field. The Cameron Highlanders were giving what machine gun support they could muster but were having carriers knocked out by shelling. Richardson found Lt. George Fawcett by the road as his men moved up to relieve “C” Company, and near by were two Cameron carriers that had been blasted by the enemy fire. As they talked a jaunty English Major arrived on the scene and asked who was in charge Major Forbes was leading his “B” Company and said he was in command of the men. ”What’s holding you up? Demanded the English officer. He was, told and shown some of the casualties. “Well, well, we will soon fix that” he said, “Bring up a Petard”. Up came a Churchill tank with its high explosive charge to blow walls and buildings. Major Forbes and Richardson both warned the English officer that he could not hope to cross the field of wheat. “It was one of the most unrealistic scenes of the war,” said Richardson. In one moment the huge Churchill tank was chugging across the field. The next instant there was a terrific blast and when the dust settled the grain was flowing gently in the breeze and there was absolutely no sign of the tank. A shell from the German 88 hit the Petard fairly and the double explosion wiped out the tank completely. Afterward, a classic remark when in trouble was “Bring up a Petard”.

EACH DAY SEEMED LONGER THAN THE DAY BEFORE

The nights were blasted by enemy bombers, and patrols walked cautiously in the dark or crawled in wheel ruts and ditches trying for information about bridges and enemy posts. Every day brought more tension and the men began to feel the effects of constant war fare”

From a Canadian Press Dispatch




For the better part of June it was slow going, clearing wood s and towns of the enemy. Night patrols became a way of life. Lt. “Bones” McCann was on several patrols and had an uncanny knack of finding his way in the dark of night and in unfamiliar territory. He was a legend in the regiment for the information gained and prisoners taken.

As for my part it was not a strong point. While I did not avoid the job it was one I never looked forward too. We had several close calls while on night patrols and it always was a nasty job, especially becoming disoriented in the pitch black of night. We were never out on moonlight nights nor were the Germans. It was always unfamiliar territory to explore, with hidden mine fields to catch the unwary. The enemy was in familiar territory and knew where the minefields were located. He had a great advantage in this particular game. However we did accomplish our mission on more than one occasion. The following is an excerpt from the North Shore History,

“The night of June 19th Lt. C.F.Richardson led a patrol into a grain field and found many tank tracks, relics of previous fighting. He and his men were crawling along using

one of the wide tracks for easier going, when a German patrol crawled along a similar track close by. The North Shore patrol remained perfectly still and was not discovered. “Unless one has led night patrols in a weird and utterly strange no man’s land, the feelings are hard to describe” Richardson said. There is a feeling of complete isolation. You are miles away from any help. You know the men with you are dependable and you also know they are depending on you for correct guidance every move made. Wheat fields that have been trampled down seem the same from any direction. Gunfire is all around us; the enemy is active too. After a particularly tough going we approached our own lines at “A” Company’ s front.

The password that night was “SWEET SUE”, and a company sentry gave no heed to my impassioned “SWEET SUE” pleadings and hurled a grenade. The missile bounced off me as I hollered get down, then it burst. Smitty Astles took the brunt of the blast in his hand and forearm; although my beret and tunic were shredded I was not wounded. Our job had been to find the location of a bridge ahead of the company but once in that wilderness of wheat and tank tracks it was almost impossible to hold direction.”

Two of my Corporals, Hosford and White later managed to locate the bridge and established the fact it was heavily manned. All in all we had done a pretty good job through the various company patrols and I can assure you it was never a task we looked forward too.



Food--- Normandy 1944: Major C.F.Richardson (rear) checks the arrival of a “COMPO” ration. Fourth from the left is Cpl. Gordon Lindsay from St.Stephen N.B. Gord served as my Batman ,Runner and then as a Corporal. Killed February 8th 1945


CARPIQUET

“The Germans then hit Carpiquet with everything they had in the area. For hours on end they shelled it with guns of all calibres; they threw hundreds and hundreds of mortar bombs into the rubble piles; they machine-gunned the village and they sniped everyone that moved. The Canadians went deep to the ground but the bombardment was

almost more than human nerves could stand. During the first night the Germans hurled four counter attacks against the village and each one was repelled. The enemy struck with tanks and with infantry who followed up the armour shouting their heads off in the night. The Canadians beat of the tanks with anti-tank guns and Piats, mortar mowed the infantry.Some enemy tanks got right into the village wwere they were destroyed.

From Gauntlet to Overlord

Lt. C.F.Richardson: From the History of the North Shore “

“Lt C.F. Richardson had a platoon in “B” Company, which was deployed in the rear of “D” Company: “I guess my platoon was as lucky as any, he wrote. ’Within minutes of the opening salvo the moaning and crying for help began and we had no choice but to take it. (The barrage was from our own artillery which some how started first where our start line had been designated. How the SNAFU occurred we do not know. As the barrage moved forward we began to reorganize and out of 35 men I only had 20 to lead from the start line. Lt. McCann was on the right; I was on the left at the start. We had only a Compass to guide us, when the smoke lifted Lt McCann was on the left and I was on the right. How this came about remains a mystery

When the smoke lifted we were just halfway across the 200 yards of stubble where the Germans had mowed the grain and so near their slit trenches we could spit on them. We were in extended line and I encouraged the boys to stay close. We cleared the first line of defense of five Germans and started for the second group when a German threw a grenade.

. It landed in front of me and exploded. I felt a hot sting in my right side and left hand. I thought it was a slight wound. We cleared the trench of Germans and started to collect my platoon headquarters. Private Bailey, my batman, had been dropped .by the

grenade and both runners were badly wounded. However, we had moved through “D” Company and our objective was taken.

My side started to bother me, my left hand was peppered with shrapnel. I had a long cigarette case in the inside right pocket of my battledress and a towel wrapped around my waist. In order to look at my side, which was throbbing, I unbuttoned my tunic and the towel was filled with shrapnel. I reached for a cigarette and found the case bent almost double by a large piece of shrapnel. I was not badly hit but out of nowhere appeared our beloved colonel who ordered me to the first aid post—which marked the finish of my first month in action”.

That night after the shelling had stopped Padre Hickey and a party buried forty North Shore men, “Carpiquet was the graveyard of the regiment.” A quote from the Padre".




BACK TO ENGLAND

After spending the biggest part of the day lying on a stretcher in the hot sun near the beach we were moved to the same ship that brought us to France, (THE CLAN LAMONT). We arrived in Park Prewett Hospital in Basingstoke where they operated and cleaned up my wounds and was transferred to No 11 Can General Hospital at Maidenhead. The stay in the hospital was interesting; the first two nights the other officers who had been wounded earlier were having terrible nightmares. It seemed strange to me; however, one of the nurses informed me that my time would come. It was fact. It took three or four days to come down to earth from being in action and sure enough after the third day I too began having nightmares. The recurring one for the next few days was a German standing over me ready to pierce my side with a bayonet. It was several days before these subsided.

The stay in the hospital was not bad although on today’s standard the stay was a long one. I was wounded July 4th, admitted to Park Prewitt Hospital on July 6th and discharged from 11 Can. Gen. On July 21st 1944. Penicillin was used for the first time to any extent and perhaps accounted for the long stay. Certainly my wounds were not life threatening.

It was back to dear old Aldershot for reassignment to the Regiment. This was a boring time. There were over a hundred reinforcement officers on strength. Plus a number of like wounded who had priority to return to Europe. Everyone was climbing the walls due to inactivity. I was given a ten-day pass and after a couple of days in London visited friends in Mansfield. There was one hitch in my armor ---in order to keep clean in France I had shaved my head so I presented a baldpate for the duration of my leave—it probably bothered me more than the girls I met.

On August 16th it was back on the CLAN LAMONT for the short voyage to Europe and back to the regiment. We spent several days in the “reinforcement pool’ before joining the battalion. The clearing of the channel ports was the first action since Falaise and the regiment had been at rest.

“The attack on Boulogne (operation ‘WELLHIT’) was held up by the necessity of waiting for special assault equipment used at Le Havre, and subsequently by delay completing joint planning with the R.A.F. bomber command. But everything was finalized and ready so that on the morning of the 17th of September the 8th and 9th Brigades of the Canadian 3rd Division advanced against the enemy’s works. The 9th Brigade was attacking Boulogne itself while the 8th Brigade was assaulting the adjoining strong points”

The Canadian Army 1939-1945”

This was my first action after returning and I did not have time to get to know the platoon, which had been Gerald Moran’s on D-Day. It was like walking in a group of strangers. Major Bill Sullivan and Captain Mickey McCallum, two officers who had been with the Regiment before I joined it in England. They had been held as reinforcement officers during the assault. The big attack came before I was well acquainted with the area and the new people in the unit. I was lucky to have Sgt. Ed Gilks as my right hand man and Cpl. Vince Dutcher, these fine soldiers landed on D-Day and were in the thick of the battle on VE day in May ‘45.

The platoon was spread out in a straight-line advance, early in going forward I found myself well ahead of the men---they had had a bad experience with the previous officer, they were told where to go instead of being led. It was the only time this had ever happened to me---after a brief but to the point verbal talk informing them they were to go where I went and that I would never ask them to go where I would not go. The line quickly formed and we went ahead in a straight line.

We carried on and we reached to top of the hill. Lt. Tranton had his men on our immediate right and kept the same course.

We had a few casualties as we flushed the Jerries out of their slit trenches and took a newly built pillbox covering the crossroad. I thought it was old times as we had our objective by 0800 hours and the forward platoons of our Company and “A” Company had reached their immediate objectives, where, we were to consolidate and wait for the reserve platoons.

The following is what I wrote for the Regimental History**

“But all was not what it seemed. We had been fortunate in getting through before the Jerry’s realized an attack was on. The others coming after us was under heavy fire. And we had, somehow, luckily crossed a very tricky mine field. Word soon came that Major Sullivan had lost a leg on one of the mines, and Captain McCallum had got bogged down with the rest of the company. The fighting became very different. The Jerry’s had all the advantage and though we tried everything throughout the afternoon. In one of our desperate attempts to go forward Lt.Tranton was killed, we lost an excellent officer.

It looked bad and when I talked with Captain McCallum, he suggested we should pull back. I pointed out that it would be hell to go back through the minefield. I contacted Major “Toot” Moar of “A” Company and he agreed with my decision. Fortunately Captain Hal MacDonald of Support Company put in his appearance, having cleared a path through the minefield, which meant we could get supplies up to our position. McDonald was a great help to us. During the night we kept close watch and the Jerry’s sent out a couple of patrols, we caught them with cross fire and cut them up badly and also managed to take two prisoners”.

The morning of the 18th, “A” Company completed the capture of its half-taken casement and using Piats cleaned out a smaller gun position. This softened the enemy. One of the Germans who had been taken prisoner by “B” Company could speak English.

“Lt. Richardson sent him back to the main German headquarters with the demand they surrender or we would call in the airforce and bring up tanks. For some unexplained reason the German's on the coastal defense were mortally afraid of our tanks. We waited on our boy and hoped he was telling a good story. Sure enough, we saw a white flag emerge form the gun emplacement. Our bluff had worked. Then Germans without arms started hurrying out. When these men reached us I (Richardson) asked them if there were others in the emplacement, and was quickly cautioned not to go near, as the big gun was soon to be ”kaput. The Jerry who spoke English said “ the kapitan kaput also himself”.

The import of this did not hit us until there was a sudden deafening roar from the gun emplacement and we proceeded to explore. We found the Commandant had strapped himself onto the firing seat of the cross-channel gun, with his second-in-command on the opposite seat; they had used demolition charges to put the guns and themselves out of commission. “B” Company under command of Richardson pushed on again and the third position surrendered.

Extract from the North Shore History: “Casualties had been fairly heavy, but so were those of the enemy. In addition a large number were killed and wounded, 450 were taken prisoner. The garrison was German Marines; there was enough food in the forts to have lasted three months, including live pigs waiting to be butchered. (I am sure our boys made the most of this opportunity). Each casement contained a complete electric plant and diesel engine. The quarters were most comfortable and there was a well-equipped hospital”.

Capt. Mickey McCallum was in poor health and had to be evacuated to hospital. Capt. Willard Parker was promoted to Major in command of “B” Company. Lt. Charlie Richardson was promoted to Captain as second-in-command. The company was reinforced with two fine officers: Lts. Harry Hamley and Wally Jones.

In Fredericton, at basic training camp, Walter Jones was the Sergeant of the platoon I was assigned too. He had been an instructor there for some time, a well qualified one, he

left a lasting impression on me and it was with pleasure that we welcomed him to the company. He was one of the most courageous officers that served in the army. There was a deep respect for each other and he showed exceptional leadership in the field.

Harry Hamley was another exceptional officer and we became close friends, he rose to the rank of Major and was sited for bravery in a later battle at Zutphen Holland

FINISHING THE CHANNEL PORTS

“ On Sunday in Kent, and particularly in Dover, they gave thanksgiving in the parish churches for the Canadians’ victories on the cross-Channel coast from which the enemy had hit out at England since the summer of 1940.” Sept. 1944. “Gauntlet to Overlord”

There was little time for the North Shore to rest. Calais, with its port facilities, and its cross-Channel guns, by-passed before, must be dealt with. Almost daily its enormous guns hurled high explosive shells into the streets of Dover. And those guns were a constant menace to shipping in the Channel. The approach march to Calais was made under a gigantic smoke screen because guns of another pocket, Cap Gris Nez, could range on the line of advance.

The attack was on Noires Mottes, the hill dominating the approach from the sea and the blockhouses housing the cross channel guns. The slope leading up to the dugouts was devoid of cover as well as being heavily mined. It was decided to make it a night attack.

When we reached one of the dugouts we could hear voices and after challenging we were surprised to hear “”All is Kaput, we are coming out” in perfect English.

We took several prisoners and after talking with the one who had spoken English I decided to question him. He had been in the States for several years working in Brooklyn---in 1938 he decided to make an application for US citizenship, which meant he had to return to Germany to complete his application. He was forced into the army.

Through him we made the entrance into the tunnels into the blockhouse and met the Commandant---I asked for him to surrender and he replied, “ He would not surrender to any junior officer so young. As a result I returned to the Company headquarters and after relaying my story to Major Parker he visited the Commandant and he surrendered to him

Paul, the German prisoner & I became friends and stayed with me for the next several weeks until the brass caught up and demanded Paul be treated as a war prisoner. He sure helped us when he was with us.

The next few months we spent clearing the Schelt area in Holland of the Germans—this was where we gained the name “WATER RATS” We were constantly fighting the elements and the dykes were blown ahead of us and we were constantly in mud and water.

THE LEOPOLD LOOMS AHEAD

“This was another tough job carried out by the coast-hopping Canadian Army. It seldom had a sinecure in assignments during the entire campaign in the west. From Caen to Holland, on the left of the Allied line, it faced heart-breaking difficulties but it never failed in any task”

Gauntlet to Overlord

.

On October 2nd the north Shore began the long haul to the Belgian border, making an overnight stop at Steenvoorde, near Hazenbrook for food and refueling. We arrived at our destination on the 4th. The North shore was under the command of the 7th Brigade, which had taken severe casualties.

The Regina Rifles & the Winnipeg Rifles had suffered the most as they had tried to establish a beachhead on the far side of the canal. The Germans had

Seven infantry battalions defending the area

. Fortunately through our negotiations with the high command (Major General Simonds & Brigadier Roberts) the position facing the crossing of the canal was averted. The 7th Brigade was to hold their positions along the canal to prevent a counter attack. The North Shore was rerouted to make an attack from the sea from the area of Terneuzen.

THE POLDER FIGHTING

“Beyond the built- up areas and the warmth of walls the pitiless landscape faced the a pitiless battle. The battalions resolved themselves into individuals who must walk and eat, rest and sleep with death. To them was a series of barns, road junctions, slit trenches, strongpoints, and mines, the objectives day after day.”

The Eighty- Five Days

The Regiment’s skill and experience in assault landings proved to be of great value. For this was another water crossing against resistance. On the morning of the 11th under cover of the dyke the assaulting team began to enter the Buffaloes. These armored giants with enormous tracks and the unique ability to traverse water had successfully landed other troops. Only infantry, jeeps, and carriers could go. It would be several days before we had the use of the heavy guns and trucks ,which had to be brought up by land route from Belgium. No soldier who heard the grinding and clanking of the tank track change to the deeper, quieter note in the water will ever forget the feeling of being at the mercy of Flushing’s big guns and the sea. The risks ashore were those that had been faced before, and we could fight back.

Then began the campaign that for mud, water, discomfort could not be matched. It was agonizing terrain for both attacking and sustained fighting. A misery we had not known before. The enemy was elusive, often evading contact, yet using every farm and culvert as sniping points.

On the 13th we were in heavy fighting with both Lt. Hamley & Lt. Jones leading spectacular results. Walter Jones was killed that day when his carrier ran over a mine. Wally was one of the finest men I met in the army; he was the Sergeant of the platoon when I was a private in basic training in Fredericton. One of the finest officers in battle.

This was one of those times that remain etched in my memory. Wally and I had become friends in Fredericton despite our difference in rank at that time. He was an excellent instructor and a man of principals. It was a surprise and a joy to have him as one of my officers in Holland and ,of course, our friendship was bonded. It was one of my saddest days and a very difficult one to write to his wife with the news of his death.









Monday, July 23, 2007

Bonapart--a bit of Heaven

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This was my birthday cake.
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Here are some cute grandkids riding their horsies.
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Tuesday, July 10, 2007

What is a blog anyway?



"Blog is short for weblog. A weblog is a journal (or newsletter) that is frequently updated and intended for general public consumption. Blogs generally represent the personality of the author or the Web site."

Happy 85th Charlie! Hope you like your birthday present...


Now you can write whatever you want and people have to read it. Well, not really, but they have the option to read it. You can post pictures from your computer as well as copy and paste text from word documents. You can write about what you and Marge are up to, or what mischief your grand kids (or great grand kids) are up to, what's happening at the church, political rants or whatever.


Ian will help while he's around but after that Jacob might fill a surrogate role since he's also now a blogging expert.

Love the Bates gang.