Terrible Victory Read online

  Such ad hoc divisional attachments to First Canadian Army were necessitated by a lack of Canadian troops in western Europe, resulting from the decision made in two stages during 1943 to transfer Canadian units from Britain to the newly opened Italian front. First Canadian Infantry Division and 1st Canadian Armoured Brigade had gone to participate in Operation Husky, the July 10 invasion of Sicily. Attached to British Eighth Army, this division had fought through the Sicilian campaign and then joined the march up the Italian boot. Later that year, I Canadian Corps headquarters with 5th Canadian Armoured Division had also transferred to Italy to serve as part of Eighth Army, and 1 CID had come under its command. Ostensibly, the intention of this carving away of almost half of First Canadian Army’s manpower was to provide a core of combat-experienced Canadians for the future invasion of northwest Europe.

  The decision, however, had been equally motivated by political considerations. Public sentiment at home, encouraged by the popular press, had clamoured for the Canadian army overseas to do some fighting. Partly this was fuelled by a desire for any kind of victory after the debacles of Hong Kong and Dieppe. In November 1941, the Royal Rifles of Canada and Winnipeg Grenadiers had reinforced Hong Kong colony, only to be included in the general surrender on December 24 after the Japanese invasion. This tragedy was followed by the disaster of Dieppe on August 19, 1942. Out of 5,000 Canadians landed at Dieppe, 807 had been killed and 1,946 taken prisoner.

  When Canadians read daily newspaper reports about British, Australian, New Zealand, and other Commonwealth forces fighting major engagements in northern Africa, Burma, and on other fronts, the coverage of the endless training exercises conducted by the Canadian Army overseas paled by comparison. When would Canadian soldiers finally fight and garner battle honours for the nation? Under increasing public pressure, and subject to a noisy campaign by a cabal of Canadian officers in Britain who wanted to see the army blooded, the federal government finally gave in and lobbied the British to include Canadian troops in the forthcoming Mediterranean operation.

  The Canadian government expected that prior to the invasion of France, I Canadian Corps would return from Italy to join First Canadian Army, but it soon became apparent that the British had no intention of providing the large flotilla of transport ships necessary to carry out such a transfer or of reorganizing their own commands to facilitate such a complex reshuffling. So I Canadian Corps remained in Italy while First Canadian Army went to battle shorthanded, dependent on Montgomery parsing off other divisions to strengthen it for each assignment.

  I British Corps consequently remained under First Canadian Army for its part in “The Pursuit.” Montgomery was determined to keep the Germans running. On August 20, he had circulated a directive impressing upon “all commanders the need for speed in getting on with the business. The Allied victory in N.W. Europe will have immense repercussions; it will lead to the end of the German military domination of France; it is the beginning of the end of the war.”

  “But if these great events are to be brought about, we must hurl ourselves on the enemy while he is still reeling from the blow; we must deal him more blows and ever more blows; he must be allowed no time to recover.”8

  First Canadian Army’s immediate task was to have II Canadian Corps close the Falaise Gap while simultaneously marching out of Normandy. I British Corps would push northeastwards along the coastline. Once the Gap was closed, the rest of II Canadian Corps would rush to join the pursuit. First Canadian Army was then to “advance to the Seine… cross the river… and operate to clear the whole Havre peninsula to the west of the Army boundary.” The port at Le Havre was to be secured quickly.9

  So the Canadians had started their run up the French coast, with orders to clear each channel port along the way. Because the Germans had reportedly transformed each port city into a fortress manned by thousands of men ordered to hold out as long as possible, they were not expected to move as quickly as British Second Army or the American armies. These were racing blitzkrieg fashion across France by inland routes that put them well ahead of the Canadian advance. But to the Canadians, even their more measured advance seemed hare-paced after the turtle-like gains made during the weeks of gridlock in Normandy.

  ROLLING TOWARDS the Seine in the midst of 2nd Canadian Infantry Division’s long train, 4th Canadian Field Regiment Lieutenant George Blackburn thought “this drive to… the Seine was but a victory march with each [artillery] troop acquiring its own endless story of mad incidents, such as advance parties ‘liberating’ villages miles in front of the most forward infantryman or ‘recce car.’”

  The regiment’s tractors pulling the 25-pound guns, trucks loaded with men and supplies, Bren carriers, and jeeps raised great clouds of dust as they raced along the country roads. A “kaleidoscope” of images passed by: “Madly cheering French civilians lining the streets of villages gay with tri-colours… the refreshing green rich farmland, the apple orchards… the barrels of apple cider… tomatoes, apples and masses of flowers pressed on every vehicle… weak ersatz coffee… all-powerful Calvados and cognac… urchins begging, ‘cigarette for papa,’… Maquis with red, white and blue arm bands and the inevitable German rifle slung on their shoulders… laughing women yelling, ‘Merci Canadi-ens!’… sullen women with towels wrapped as turbans around their heads to hide the fact they’d been shaved for their affairs with Germans… and ringing church bells.”10

  The division had been stalled by a hard three-day action required to clear the dense woods of the Forêt de la Londe, which covered the approach to the Seine opposite Rouen. When it was over, 577 men were casualties. The South Saskatchewan Regiment had been particularly hard hit, losing 185 men, including 44 who had died. But 3rd Canadian Infantry Division and 4th Canadian Armoured Division slipped across the Seine near Elbeuf on August 27 to the right of the forest, turned the German rear, and forced those defending the forest to take flight or be trapped.11

  Major Ronald Shawcross, commanding the Regina Rifles’ ‘A’ Company, was amazed at how fast the advance moved once the Seine was crossed. “We went full speed ahead and damn the horses. We stopped every two hours for the necessary iron rations and bully beef that we had with us. Generally we stopped in orchards that were open and could rest without fear of anybody sneaking up on you.” As they passed through one village or town after another, “Prisoners kept showing up… and all we did was take their weapons and send them back along the road… for others to capture. The paymaster’s money was coming handy for fowl, rabbit, fruit, etc. We were now well ahead of our rations and kitchens.”

  In every town, crowds cheered the passing troops. “Kisses, wine and beer all over the lot, it was a good thing there was no lipstick available in France. Everyone welcomed us with open arms. There wasn’t enough beer, wine and Calvados or we didn’t stop long enough for it to do us much good or harm. We went on to Montreuil, Etaples, le Turne, Hauteville, it was a hell of a trip, forty-five miles in less than one day without a great deal of rest or hot food.”12

  Blackburn noted that the advance became “swift and easy” and because of 2 CID’S line of advance “it was obvious to all that the objective… was Dieppe. 2nd Division was to be given the opportunity to revenge August 1942. But when the forward elements of our infantry were feeling their way towards the outskirts, they were welcomed by Royal Marines standing with glasses of beer in their hands in the doorway of a café and informed that they, the marines, had landed the night before at the port in assault fashion to find the Germans gone.”13 Divisional headquarters staff driving into Dieppe on September I were met by “hysterical joy on the part of the civilians.”14 First Canadian Army’s commander Lieutenant General Harry Crerar ordered the division to stand down for four days to carry out badly needed equipment maintenance and catch its breath. It would then pass through 3 CID, allowing that division a similar maintenance and rest period.

  Crerar issued his orders without consulting Montgomery, who took immediate exception. He immediately signalle
d Crerar: “not repeat not consider this the time for any div[ision] to halt for maintenance. Push on quickly.”15 Crerar was not to be swayed. He calmly but firmly countered that there was no reason for 2 CID to move until a crossing had been secured over the Somme and that the pause was essential to allow this division, which had lost a third of its infantry strength, to absorb 1,000 reinforcements currently en route from Normandy to Dieppe.16 Crerar’s decision was further influenced by the desire of 2 CID commander Major General Charles Foulkes to hold a religious service and parade on September 3 to honour the men who had fallen during the Dieppe raid. Asked to personally supervise the parade, Crerar willingly consented.

  On the afternoon of September 2, Montgomery sent Crerar another signal summoning him to British Second Army headquarters for a meeting the next day at 1300 hours. The wording led Crerar to assume this was to be a one-on-one affair and he suggested rescheduling it to 1700 to permit his attending the Dieppe ceremony. To ensure that no further communication scuttled his plans, as Crerar left his headquarters on the morning of September 3 for Dieppe, he instructed his Chief of Staff, Brigadier General Churchill Mann, that under “no circumstances was he to receive any further communications from Monty until it was too late to cancel his role in the Dieppe ceremonies.”17

  During the service at the cemetery, Crerar read a message from William Lyon Mackenzie King. “I am sharing your joy upon the entry of Canadian troops into Dieppe today,” the prime minister said. “Nothing has so stirred Canada as the rapid series of victories achieved by our forces in recent weeks. My warmest congratulations to you all.”18 Whereas Mann had forwarded this message immediately upon its receipt, he withheld a note from Montgomery until the ceremony concluded at 1440 hours. Montgomery tersely insisted upon Crerar’s attendance at a meeting that had by then started almost two hours earlier. In the note, Montgomery clarified that this was a high level event to be attended by his American counterpart, General Omar N. Bradley, and all theatre Allied army commanders.

  Realizing that his failure to attend smacked of cavalier disobedience, Crerar flew immediately to Second Army headquarters, only to find the meeting long over and all but General Miles Dempsey departed. The Second Army commander consoled Crerar that his attendance had probably been unnecessary, as the meeting had entirely concerned future cooperation between his army and that of First U.S. Army. Both men knew, however, that rebuffing Montgomery was not lightly done.

  Hastening to Montgomery’s headquarters, Crerar was greeted with icy rage. The field marshal brushed aside Crerar’s argument that the Dieppe ceremony and his attendance there were necessary. As the exchange became increasingly heated, Crerar declared that there “was a powerful Canadian reason why I should have been present… at Dieppe. In fact, there were eight hundred reasons—the Canadian dead buried at Dieppe cemetery.” Crerar’s failure to obey instructions, Montgomery retorted, meant that “our ways must part.” Shaken but unbowed Crerar said that he expected Montgomery would now take the matter to higher channels of authority, while he would seek instructions from his government—the only body that could relieve him of command. As if suddenly realizing the dispute had escalated out of proportion, Montgomery abruptly backed down and declared the matter closed. A few days later, he even apologized by letter.19 But the years of growing antipathy between the two men could not be erased.

  FIFTY-SIX YEARS OLD, Henry Duncan Graham Crerar was a World War I veteran and graduate of Royal Military College, who had been appointed Chief of the Canadian General Staff in December 1941, then given command of I Canadian Corps in Britain. A fervent nationalist who wanted Canada’s army to play a significant role in the Allied war effort, he had convinced Prime Minister King to accede to the British request that Canadians be sent to reinforce Hong Kong. He had also lobbied relentlessly for Canada to play the major role in the Dieppe raid. As I Canadian Corps commander, Crerar had headed up the cabal of officers that succeeded in having Canada included in the Sicily and Italian campaigns.

  It soon became clear that Montgomery, who commanded British Eighth Army in Italy, thought little of Crerar’s ability. Montgomery had reached this conclusion in February 1943, when he had led a study group in Tripoli that analyzed traditional Allied battle doctrine in relationship to the lessons learned during the African desert battles. While disillusioned with the performance of all the commanders present, he singled out only Crerar for written condemnation. “I don’t think he has any idea of how to handle Corps in battle,” Montgomery wrote. When Crerar headed up I Canadian Corps, Montgomery tried to ease him into the task by first having him temporarily command 1st Canadian Infantry Division. Crerar haughtily declined the suggestion as beneath his rank.

  He quickly ran afoul of Eighth Army practices of keeping things simple and paperwork at a minimum by issuing a stream of lengthy written orders backed by sheaves of intelligence summaries, reports, and staff analyses. In an army where Montgomery’s casual approach to uniforms and adherence to military protocol set an informal tone, Crerar was also a stickler for proper dress and behaviour. On March 9, 1944, when Crerar returned to Britain to take the reins of First Canadian Army, his departure was greeted with general relief throughout Eighth Army. But Montgomery considered the Canadian government mistaken in giving Crerar such a critical command.

  Crerar was equally disliked by his two corps commanders—II Canadian Corps’s Lieutenant General Guy Simonds and I British Corps’s Lieutenant General John Crocker. No sooner had Crocker come under Crerar’s command than the two had a nasty falling-out when the British general refused to obey to the letter a series of highly detailed orders. Crerar had immediately asked Montgomery to relieve the experienced officer, who had been in either divisional or corps command since 1940. While noting that the egos of both men contributed, Montgomery believed Crerar the main problem: “I fear he thinks he is a great soldier and he was determined to show it the very moment he took over command at 1200 hrs on 23 July. He made his first mistake at 1205 hrs; and his second after lunch.” Because the chain of command had to be maintained even if the man at the top was wrong, Montgomery gave Crocker a harsh dressing-down. But he also warned Crerar not to meddle overly in corps level battle planning. An army commander, he counselled, “must stand back from the detailed tactical battle; that part is the province of his corps commanders.” Over time, Crocker and Crerar learned to work fairly well together, but there was little mutual respect.20

  Simonds’s opinion of Crerar had soured long before he took command of II Canadian Corps. The forty-one-year-old had enjoyed a meteoric career since the war’s outbreak. He advanced from the rank of major to major general in just three and a half years—becoming the youngest corps commander in the Commonwealth forces. It was while serving a stint as Crerar’s Brigadier General, Staff that Simonds witnessed the man’s backroom politicking that led to the Dieppe raid. Had it not been for Crerar, Simonds came to believe, the raid never would have been carried out and a Canadian tragedy averted. Simonds left Crerar’s staff not only disliking the man, but deeply distrusting him.21

  Montgomery and Simonds both considered Crerar severely handicapped by the fact that he had never held a battlefield command. Simonds had gained such experience leading 1st Canadian Infantry Division across Sicily and into Italy before contracting jaundice. Montgomery thought his handling of the division had been exemplary, and considered the young general a protégé and the perfect candidate for First Canadian Army command. Simonds had returned to command 5th Canadian Armoured Division in Italy shortly before Crerar’s arrival. The two had soon become embroiled in an increasingly vitriolic dispute over nothing more than Crerar’s envy of a sumptuous and efficient caravan that Simonds had designed as his sleeping quarters and headquarters when the division was on the move. After an exchange of heated letters, both had questioned the other’s sanity in notes to Montgomery. Although Crerar eventually recommended Simonds for corps command, he did so reluctantly, harbouring the suspicion that the young officer was unbalance
d.

  From the sidelines, Simonds had observed the dispute with Montgomery over the Dieppe ceremony and considered it more evidence that Crerar increasingly “was just not minding the shop.” Since the breakout from Normandy, Simonds had urged Crerar to step up the pace of First Canadian Army’s advance. Simonds knew from intelligence reports that the German Fifteenth Army was evacuating hundreds of men a day from Breskens. Instead of methodically isolating each port and laying siege until the garrison surrendered, Simonds wanted to leave only sufficient forces to “mask them,” condemning the trapped garrison to wither on the vine for lack of supplies. Meanwhile, the army could press on to Breskens and cut off the German escape route.22 A strategic thinker, Simonds grasped the importance of not only securing Antwerp but equally of clearing the sixty-mile-long West Scheldt estuary that linked the port city to the North Sea. He also recognized that Fifteenth Army was on the brink of escaping an encirclement that should have assured its destruction. An opportunity was slipping through Allied hands, and Simonds worried that its loss would cost them dearly in time lost and casualties suffered.

  Devoted to Montgomery, Simonds chose to ignore the fact that Crerar had not been ordered to make haste to Breskens. In his methodical way, the Canadian army commander was implementing Montgomery’s instructions to quickly open each port so that it could be used to bring in supplies from Britain, desperately needed to fuel the rapid advance of the Allied armies. With each passing day, the supply trail running all the way back to the Normandy beachhead lengthened, and a crisis threatened that could only be alleviated by bringing supplies to points closer to the head of the advance.

  “The Pursuit” was in jeopardy, the tanks, armoured cars, and thousands of trucks rushing across France literally beginning to run out of fuel. The supply situation made it logical that the early opening of Antwerp—Europe’s largest port—should be the highest Allied priority. Coupled with the opportunity to snare and eliminate Fifteenth Army, directing the Canadian thrust towards the Belgian port and strategic parts of Holland immediately to its north seemed obvious. Yet Montgomery’s attention was turned elsewhere and his distraction would condemn First Canadian Army to a forthcoming campaign that was both unnecessary and of tragic consequence.