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cover photograph U-boat under air attack
IT IS THE INTENTION of this series to present aspects of New Zealand's
part in the Second World War which will not receive detailed treatment in the campaign
volumes and which are considered either worthy of special notice or typical of many
phases of our war experience. The series is illustrated with material which would otherwise
seldom see publication.
‘The only thing that ever really frightened me during the war was the U-boat peril.’—
ONE OF THE MOST VITAL battles of the Second World War, and certainly the longest,
was that fought at sea against the German U-boats. The island fortress of
The U-boat was by far the greatest menace. In the First World War it had brought The name was retained throughout the war although it soon became an Ocean Command with bases extending from
A deciding factor in this favourable turn of events was the success achieved by aircraft over the
Bay of Biscay and the convoy routes in the
New Zealand airmen flew with the anti-submarine squadrons of
Aircraft, however, had not been ineffective in the war at sea before this period, even though the
actual number of U-boats destroyed by them was small. Their defensive work in protecting convoys
and in keeping U-boats submerged had been invaluable, so that many a ship owed its safe arrival to
the vigilant watch maintained from the air. When independent offensive patrols were increased
during the second half of
Nevertheless, inefficient weapons and the lack of suitable technical aids rendered the early air attacks more of a harassing nature. They inflicted a certain amount of damage and often forced U-boats to lose touch with convoys, but were only occasionally successful in completely destroying the enemy. The U-boat was an elusive and difficult target to attack from the air and its construction was so tough that the depth-charge then in use had to fall within a few feet of the hull in order to split it.
Throughout
During
When on patrol the U-boat's lookout was of a high order, four men on duty at a time standing back to back in the conning tower, each searching an arc of 90 degrees. They were supplied with excellent binoculars and the watches were changed frequently. In clear weather they would often sight an aircraft at such a range that the boat could dive in time to avoid attack, but the skilful use of sun and cloud cover would defeat them. Furthermore, in a heavy sea, the watch could never be fully efficient because of the rolling of the U-boat and the spray.
The principal weapon employed in the air attacks on U-boats during
AN INDICATION of the more effective role aircraft were soon to play in the U-boat war
was provided during the North African landings in
Several New Zealanders flying with No. 500 Hudson Squadron had very successful hunting
during this period. Their unit was one of several sent to Gibraltar to hunt U-boats in the sea lanes
through which the convoys were passing to invade North Africa. This was a welcome change of
activity as for the previous nine months the squadron had been based at Stornaway, in the Outer
Hebrides, whence it patrolled over the bleak waters to the north of
As the first convoys were already approaching the Straits, the Hudsons began operations
immediately. During the next three weeks No. 500 Squadron flew over 200 sorties and attacked
thirty-four U-boats; three of these have now been confirmed as destroyed. Two of these successful
attacks were made by New Zealand pilots. Throughout the month flying conditions were generally
good with visibility almost unlimited except during heavy but infrequent storms which passed
quickly. On most days conditions were ideal for carrying out surprise attacks, since aircraft
On 6 November, two days before the landings began, anti-submarine patrols were flown to
the east of Gibraltar ahead of the convoys, and it was while engaged in one of these missions that
Pilot Officer H. A. Poole1 made the squadron's first attack. In fact, he had the unusual experience
of attacking two U-boats in the course of a single patrol. The first was sighted in the act of diving,
and by the time the Hudson reached the spot it had been submerged for some twenty seconds.
Nevertheless, the four depth-charges that were dropped must have shaken the submarine as its
stern immediately rose above the surface for a few moments before it finally disappeared. In the
second attack the submarine had dived about a minute before the aircraft reached it and no results
were seen.
On the following day the convoys were nearing the landing points. Strong air cover was
provided, including many patrols and sweeps flown by the anti-submarine aircraft from Gibraltar.
Just before midday Flight Lieutenant H. G. Holmes2 sighted a U-boat ‘travelling at high speed on
the surface a few miles south of the Fleet’. He achieved complete surprise in his attack, the depth-
charges straddling the enemy vessel while it was still on the surface. A piece of metal was seen to
fly into the air in the midst of the explosions and subsequently large quantities of oil appeared on
the surface of the sea. About the same time, Squadron Leader I. C. Patterson3 saw a German
submarine on the surface some fifteen miles ahead. He was able to approach unobserved, but in
his first attack the depth-charges failed to release. A second attempt, a few seconds after the enemy
had dived, brought air bubbles to the surface but no other sign of damage was seen.
The next day, 8 November, twelve aircraft from No. 500 Squadron, four of which were
piloted by New Zealanders, were employed in protecting the naval forces and convoys landing
troops on the beaches in the vicinity of
During the next two days, while anti-submarine patrols continued, a detachment of Hudsons
moved to the airfield at Tafaroui, near The conical hub on some types of airscrews.
So far most of the patrols had been uneventful, but the next week there were many sightings
and attacks as the U-boats made strenuous efforts to intercept the supply convoys. On 12 November
4 aircraft attacked a diving U-boat and brought oil to the surface,
while Holmes put destroyers on the scent of another which had submerged before he could
attack it. Patterson had three sightings in the course of one patrol during the following morning.
His first was made at a distance of nearly twenty miles, but evidently the U-boat lookouts spotted
the Hudson as the submarine dived before an attack could be made. However, employing the skill
and patience derived from long experience in hunting U-boats, Patterson flew away from the area
and returned later, using cloud to conceal his approach. His perseverance was rewarded when,
shortly after his return, a U-boat was seen surfacing. Still using cloud cover, Patterson manoeuvred
his machine into a position from which he was able to deliver a surprise attack. The stern of the
submarine was blown out of the water and the vessel assumed a vertical position with some twenty
feet of its hull above the surface. It remained like this for nearly a minute and then went down at
the same angle. Soon afterwards gushes of air and oil came to the surface and continued to rise for
some minutes. The same afternoon another Hudson pilot, Flight Lieutenant M. A. Ensor,5 while
flying just above broken cloud, saw a fully surfaced U-boat below him through a clear patch. He
immediately dived to attack and was able to release his depth-charges just as the enemy submarine
submerged. They were well aimed, as a few moments later the U-boat reappeared midst a mass of
foam and air bubbles. Several of the crew then appeared on the conning tower and opened fire on
the aircraft. This fire was silenced but unfortunately the Hudson was compelled through shortage
of fuel to leave the scene before assistance arrived. The damaged U-boat was then circling slowly
on the surface.
On 14 November Mitchell took part in an attack on another German submarine which was
eventually forced to beach itself near
Ensor had better luck the same morning, some forty miles off
‘The trip back was a nightmare,’ Ensor said afterwards. ‘Sometimes the plane's nose would dip steeply and I had to signal the crew to run into the tail to balance it. Then the tail would drop, whereupon they would have to run to the nose. It was when we were nearly home and congratulating ourselves that all was well that the engine gave out.’
Misfortune of a different kind attended another successful attack by Squadron Leader Patterson
two days later, when he caught an enemy submarine unawares on the surface. The U-boat's stern
was lifted clean out of the water and the conning tower stove in by the explosions of the depth-
charges which straddled it. Attempts by the crew to man the machine guns were prevented by
fire from the aircraft. Smoke was coming from inside the vessel and some of the crew leapt over
the side. Others came on deck waving white objects in token of surrender. As it was now certain
that the submarine was disabled and as other aircraft had reached the scene, Patterson flew to a
nearby airfield to report the opportunity of capturing a valuable prize. A destroyer was sent out
from
The last patrols from the airfield at Tafaroui were flown on 18 November, in the course of which two more attacks were made, one of them by Holmes, after which a large amount of oil and air bubbles came to the surface for over half an hour before the Hudson was forced to leave the scene.
No. 500 Squadron now moved to Blida airfield, about thirty miles south-west of
Operations were continued without a break and during the following days patrols were flown
continuously from the new base. During the first flights from Blida, Holmes made another
attack on a U-boat, his fifth in thirteen days. Very large air bubbles were observed as if the vessel
was attempting to resurface and subsequently a patch of oil appeared, approximately thirty yards
in diameter. Thereafter, sightings and attacks became noticeably fewer and before the end of the
month it was clear that the enemy had decided to reduce the scale of his attack in the Western
ON THE MORNING of
This patrol is of particular interest as it illustrates an important stage that had been reached in the
Battle of the
The early months of
The land planes and flying boats of Very long range. They carried minimum armament, fewer depth-charges, and extra fuel.
At other times it was a pack gathering for the assault. Several times U-boats were sunk as a result of close co-operation between aircraft and the surface vessels of the escort, signals being exchanged by radio-telephone or, when radio silence was essential, by Aldis lamp.
The third type of air patrol was the independent hunt over areas of the ocean where U-boats were known to be lurking, their presence having been discovered by sightings or by the interception of their radio transmissions. The information collected from such sources was sent to the operational units so that crews could be briefed before setting out on their missions.
The month of
The first aircraft to reach the convoy on the 6th was a Liberator from 6 as pilot, and Sergeant V. B. McKeague7, navigator. Three U-boats were attacked
during their close escort patrols, the aircraft remaining with the ships for seven hours at a distance
of more than eight hundred miles from its base. The following morning Sergeant W. M. Easton8
was with a Fortress from a base in the Hebrides which attacked a U-boat near the same convoy.
Rain and low cloud enabled the aircraft to achieve complete surprise as the four lookouts were
seen in the conning tower as the depth-charges fell. Their explosions engulfed the U-boat, which
disappeared leaving a large patch of oil on the surface. On the same day Flying Officer B. W.
Turnbull,9 as captain of a Liberator from
During these months New Zealand airmen were involved in a number of similar episodes.
One of them, Flight Sergeant J. D. Ackerman,10 was navigator of a Fortress which sank two
U-boats within a few weeks. The second success was scored in the middle of March when heavy
air protection was provided for two inward-bound convoys routed close together. They were
attacked by a pack of some forty U-boats. Thirteen vessels had been sunk during one day while
the ships were outside the range of air cover. The surface escorts, hopelessly outnumbered, were
unable to repel the mass attacks which took place. The next day every long-range aircraft that
could be spared joined in the battle. Nineteen attacks resulted and finally the enemy's effort was
broken. This was achieved not so much by the few definite kills as by the density of the air cover
provided and the close co-operation between the surface vessels and aircraft protecting the ships.
Aircrew &
Ground Staff
During
‘It is more and more difficult for the U-boats to attack convoys,’ declared Admiral Luctzow about this time. ‘The increased air support given to the Allied ships has neutralised the U-boat's most powerful weapon—invisibility.’
The lull which followed meant that the air patrols in the
Their patrols, so often lacking in incident, and frequently flown in vilc weather, demanded
quiet courage, endless patience, and constant vigilance. The pilots, particularly those in the flying
boats, had to possess many of the qualities of the sailor. Indeed, from the earliest days of their
training they were brought into close association with the In the aircraft engaged on
There are no landmarks five hundred miles out in the
In the early years, each flight was a navigational adventure. Later, as wireless and radar aids were developed and astro-navigation more widely used, the task of the navigator was made somewhat easier. But the greater distances then flown still made his work very exacting, as he had no relief throughout a flight. In a Catalina, for example, he might be continuously engaged at his job, in cramped conditions, for upwards of twenty hours without a break. It was also the navigator's duty to keep an accurate log of each flight. As well as recording every alteration of course and every calculation of drift, the log included the text of all messages sent and received, all sightings of ships and other aircraft, with appropriate details. Weather observations were also made, usually at the western extremity of the patrol. These meteorological reports took the place of the peacetime reports from ships, now forced to remain silent. They contributed much to the successful planning of operations, naval and military as well as air.
The work of the navigator was supplemented by that of the wireless operator-air gunners, who interchanged their duties to afford some relief on long patrols. As radar sets were fitted to anti- submarine aircraft, these men specialised in operating them, although in the course of a patrol most members of a crew would take turns of duty at the set—the ‘magic eye’ which revealed, beyond visual range, the presence of objects on the surface of the sea. The work of an air gunner remained important, even in areas where enemy aircraft were not likely to be encountered. His duty then was to watch continuously the surface of the sea within his field of vision and to report anything he sighted. Ships straggling from convoy, lifeboats or rafts containing survivors from torpedoed ships, were sometimes discovered as a result of his vigilance. The wireless operator, on the other hand, saw little of what occurred outside his aircraft. Crouched over his radio, he remained alert, ready to transmit an emergency sighting report or to receive messages which might lead to a change of patrol, a diversion to assist in a search or attack, or instructions to land at a different base because of deteriorating weather at the home airfield. There were occasions when it was entirely due to his alertness that a faint SOS was received from a lifeboat's weak transmitter or from another aircraft about to land in the sea. In the larger aircraft another important member of the crew was the engineer whose duty was to watch the behaviour of the engines, to check cylinder temperatures, oil pressures, and petrol consumption. He also kept a record of each patrol so that any fault could be dealt with speedily by the maintenance staff on return.
Thus each member of a crew had his allotted task and every patrol successfully completed was the result of efficient co-operation in carrying out these duties. While many flights involved little incident there was always a report to be made on landing. If there had been an encounter with the enemy or if anything unusual had occurred, each member of the crew was called upon to give details as he had seen them. When the interrogation was completed and the meteorological officer had received his report, along with some good-natured chaff about his forecast, the weary crew made their way to their billets for a few hours' rest. Later they might be found round an old piano in the mess singing together one of the many songs which by this time had become popular throughout the Command. One of the best known was the ‘Coastal Anthem’, the words of which, though often varied, went something like this:
* * *
FOR THE GREATER PART of the war, the main operational bases for the German U-boats
were situated in the French Atlantic ports where, sheltered beneath many feet of concrete,
they were immune from bombing attacks. But to reach the Allied shipping lanes from these
bases they had to cross the Bay of Biscay. By the middle of
But this destruction and the crippling restriction of their movements had only been achieved as
a result of sustained efforts begun two years earlier. During most of this time it had been an
unrewarding task for the aircrew concerned, involving much flying with not even the meeting
of a convoy to break the monotony. After some four or five hours in the air, they might catch a
glimpse of the north coast of
New Zealand airmen had taken part in this campaign from the outset, flying with the Sunderlands, Wellingtons, Whitleys, and Hudsons on patrols planned by the Area Combined Headquarters of 11 beat off attacks by two German fighters whilst returning from an anti-submarine
patrol. Several New Zealanders also flew with the first Wellington squadron to be equipped with
the Leigh Light for night attacks in the Bay of Biscay. This two-million-candlepower searchlight,
so named after the officer responsible for its development, was fitted in the under-turret of the
aircraft. With pilot and radar operator working together it was possible to locate and home on to
surfaced U-boats at night; then, at a range of approximately one mile, the searchlight would be
switched on to illuminate the target, which could be attacked as by day. The Leigh Light, in a
modified form, was later fitted to Liberators and Catalinas.
March to August 1943 saw the climax of the Biscay campaign. In the former month, the Leigh
Light Wellingtons, many of which had now been fitted with improved radar, had considerable
success. A typical attack was that made by Flying Officer W. Lewis A Sunderland flying boat was so badly holed in one encounter that it was forced to land in a ploughed field, a feat
that was achieved without injuring the crew.12 as captain of one of these
aircraft, on the night of 24-25 March. His crew of five included four other New Zealanders. They
were nearing the end of the southward leg of their patrol when a radar contact indicated a possible
target ten miles to starboard. Lewis immediately turned and homed on the contact, losing height
at the same time. When the radar operator called the range as just under one mile, the Leigh Light
was switched on. It lit up a fully-surfaced U-boat dead ahead. Six depth-charges were dropped
near the vessel, which appeared to heel over on its side, but nothing further was seen. However,
although it was disappointing for the crews of the Leigh Light aircraft not to be able to see the
results of their attacks, their efforts were soon rewarded. Towards the end of April, U-boats began
to appear on the surface by day rather than face the sudden and unexpected attacks in darkness.
They also began to carry increased armament to drive off aircraft that surprised them, or at least
to upset the accuracy of the attacks. Although some aircraft were shot down and others damaged,13 directed his fire with such good effect that several of the enemy
gunners were seen to crumple. The flak slackened and his captain was able to take accurate aim.
The U-boat shuddered violently as the depth-charges exploded and soon afterwards it sank,
leaving a large patch of oil on the sea in which about thirty of the crew were seen.
Sometimes both hunter and hunted perished, as when a Wellington crashsed on the deck of a
14 He also found the sole survivor from
the first aircraft in a small dinghy a few miles from the scene. Supplies were dropped to him and the
position reported so that both he and the survivors form the U-boat were subsequently rescued.
Towards the end of 15 During its approach the aircraft was heavily hit
by concentrated cannon and machine-gun fire from three submarines travelling in V formation.
One member of the crew was seriously wounded and large holes were torn in the fuselage and one
wing. Nevertheless, in a second attempt, Anderson succeeded in depth-charging a U-boat on the
outside of the formation. The other two then dived, leaving the third damaged and wallowing on
the surface.
About the same time more fighters were sent by the enemy to intercept the anti-submarine
aircraft. They flew in formations averaging from five to eight, and achieved some success until
methods were devised of warning aircraft on patrol of their approach and patrols by British
fighters were increased. Meanwhile, there were some spirited engagements in which the enemy
fighters were not always successful. One Sunderland managed to beat off repeated attacks by
eight Junkers 88, destroying thre of them. On another occasion a Liberator returning from
16 I. R. Heays,17 H. J. Mills,18 and I. R. Thompson.19 Heays was badly
wounded and died later in hospital.
In spite of these new tactics by the enemy, 20 had the
experience of taking part in three night attacks within a fortnight. On the third occasion the
U-boat was so damaged that it had to be towed into a Spanish port. Of the daylight attacks in
which New Zealanders took part during the same period, one of the most successful was made by
Wing Commander A. E. Clouston,21 who after a distinguished career in experimental flying had
come to
In his unit were many New Zealanders, both on the ground as well as in the air. One of the
flight commanders was Squadron Leader M. A. Ensor, an outstanding figure in
In
But the hard-won advantage that had been gained by the aircrews was not allowed to slip from their grasp. The Bay patrols were continued relentlessly both by day and by night and any U-boats sighted were hunted to exhaustion.
THE OPERATIONS begun in
New Zealanders had taken a prominent part in the establishment of the first base for anti-
submarine aircraft in 22 and Flying Officer S. G. Baggott.23 Another New Zealand pilot, Flight Lieutenant
T. P. Gibson,24 sailed in charge of the first ground party. All three had flown Sunderlands over the
Western Approaches from the early days of the war. Subsequently Evison was to command the
squadron and Baggott to become a flight commander. Another RAF Sunderland squadron sent to
25 and then by
Wing Commander A. Frame.26
During
Jui, the base near
No. 490 Squadron had begun to form at Stranraer, on the west coast of 27 The first three crews had already arrived
and others followed during the next two months. Among them were several New Zealanders
who had already distinguished themselves in operations with 28 who had flown Ansons during the early days of the war with No. 48
29 who had been with the Fleet
Air Arm at the outbreak of war. A few New Zealanders came from Bomber Command.
The squadron's Catalinas were named after the New Zealand provinces and the first two aircraft, piloted by Wing Commander Baird and Flying Officer H. K. Patience,30 flew to West
31
was exacting and very monotonous.
During Fernhill, torpedoed 400 miles off 32 was captain of the Catalina from No. 490 Squadron which set out upon receipt of the
vessel's distress signal. Within five minutes of reaching the reported position, two lifeboats and
three rafts were sighted, containing thirty-nine survivors. Emergency packs, a wireless transmitter,
and a bundle of clothing were dropped to them, the clothing being supplied by the aircrew from
what they were wearing at the time. It was a nearly naked crew that returned to base after remaining
with the survivors for five hours. As a result of their messages a corvette had been directed to the
rescue, but before it reached the survivors, Flying Officer N. A. Ward,33 flying another 490
Squadron Catalina, had succeeded in leading a merchant ship to the scene to pick them up. This
vessel was then escorted to port by a third Catalina from the same squadron.
A few days later, on 11 August, Ward attacked a German U-boat. He was flying as second pilot to his squadron commander and happened to be at the controls when the U-boat was sighted three miles away. It was only just visible in the fairly heavy sea that was running. The Catalina immediately went in to attack, dropping four depth-charges. These fell slightly astern of the submarine, causing its bows to rise out of the water and remain so for a short time. After turning in small circles, as if its steering had been damaged, and exchanging fire with the Catalina, the U-boat finally submerged. A fifth depth-charge unfortunately failed to release during the attack. However, considerable consolation was derived from the fact that it also held fast during landing.
On the same day and about the same hour, Flying Officer L. A. Trigg34 made a most gallant
attack on another U-boat about ninety miles farther north. It was his first operational sortie in a
Liberator aircraft. His unit, No. 200 Squadron, was only in process of converting from Hudsons
to the new type of aircraft, but as several U-boats were known to be in the area, it was essential
that a Liberator be despatched on patrol that morning. The aircraft took off from Rufisque, near
Dakar, shortly after dawn. Four hours later a surfaced U-boat was sighted and Trigg prepared to
attack. The enemy submarine did not attempt to submerge. Instead it engaged the Liberator with
its anti-aircraft guns, scoring repeated hits and setting the aircraft on fire during its approach.
Trigg continued with his run in and made such an accurate attack that the U-boat sank a few
minutes later. Unfortunately, immediately after making the attack, the Liberator crashed into the
sea. There were no survivors.
When the aircraft failed to return to its base, a search was organised, and during the next afternoon a Sunderland sighted a dinghy containing several men who were reported as survivors from the missing Liberator. It was not until a naval vessel reached the scene on the following morning that the occupants of the dinghy were found to be seven Germans, the only survivors from the U-boat. By a strange irony of fate the dinghy was one which had floated free from the Liberator at the moment of the crash. It had been found and inflated by one of the Germans half an hour after the U-boat sank. Among the survivors was the U-boat commander, who expressed sincere admiration of the pilot's courage in not allowing the submarine's heavy and accurate fire and the precarious condition of his aircraft to deter him from pressing home his attack.
‘We sighted an aircraft and engaged it with all our guns,’ he declared. ‘As the machine was coming in to attack, it was hit and set on fire. Although his plane was well alight the pilot continued the attack, releasing his depth-charges from a height of fifteen metres. We could see our fire entering through its open bomb doors as the aircraft passed over us. Then the depth- charges burst near the submarine and I momentarily lost sight of the machine. However, I recovered from the shock in time to observe it dive straight into the sea.’
Flying Officer Trigg was awarded the Victoria Cross posthumously. Only a few weeks earlier
he had received the Distinguished Flying Cross for two skilful attacks against U-boats whilst
protecting a West African convoy in
The members of his crew who perished with him were Flying Officer J. J. Townshend, of
Stroud, Gloucestershire, Pilot Officer G. N. Goodwin, of Vresto, British Columbia, Flight Sergeant
R. Bonnick, of Hendon, 35
Flight Sergeant A. G. Bennett,36 Flight Sergeant L. J. Frost,37 and Flight Sergeant T. J. Soper.38
* * *
In this brief account it has only been possible to mention the names of a few of the New
Zealanders who flew with the anti-submarine squadrons in the Battle of the
THE AUTHOR,
1Flight Lieutenant H. A. Poole, DFC;
2Squadron Leader H. G. Holmes, DFC and bar; England; born Rangiora,
3Squadron Leader I. C. Patterson, DSO, m.i.d.;
4Flight Lieutenant I. R. Mitchell, DFC; RNZAF Station,
5Wing Commander M. A. Ensor, DSO and bar, DFC and bar; Manuka Bay, Cheviot; born Rangiora,
6Flying Officer H. J. Bennett; born Tuatapere, Southland,
7Warrant Officer V. B. Mc Keague;
8Warrant Officer W. M. Eatson;
9Flying Officer B. W. Turnbull, DFC; Hedgehope, Southland; born
10Squadron Leader J. D. Ackerman, MBE, m.i.d.;
11Squadron Leader R. G. Hartshorn, m.i.d.;
12Flight Lieutenant W. Lewis, DFC;
13Flight Sergeant R. C. Armstrong; born
14Flying Officer J. Whyte; born
15Flying Officer W. Anderson, DFC;
16Flying Officer F. E. Bailey, DFC;
17Flight Sergeant I. R. Heays; born
18Flying Officer H. J. Mills, DFM;
19Warrant Officer I. R. Thompson, DFC;
20Warrant Officer D. E. Mc Kenzie, m.i.d.;
21Group Captain A. E. Clouston, DSO, DFC, AFC and bar, m.i.d.;
22Wing Commander C. E. W. Evison, m.i.d.;
23Wing Commander S. G. Baggott, DFC, m.i.d.;
24Wing Commander T. P. Gibson, DFC;
25Wing Commander H. J. L. Hawkins;
26Wing Commander A. Frame, DFC;
27Wing Commander D. W. Baird, AFC;
28Wing Commander P. R. Godby, m.i.d.;
29Squadron Leader A. M. Foster; Boac, England; born
30Flight Lieutenant H. K. Patience, AFC;
31Wing Commander B. S. Nicholl;
32Flying Officer R. M. Grant, m.i.d.; born
33Flight Lieutenant N. A. Ward, DFC;
34Flying Officer L. A. Trigg, VC, DFC; born Houhora,
35Flying Officer I. Marinovich; born Oratia,
36Flight Sergeant A. G. Bennett; born
37Flight Sergeant L. J. Frost; born
38Flight Sergeant T. J. Soper; born
The occupations given in each case are those on enlistment.
cover photographBombing up a Wellington
IT IS THE INTENTION of this series to present aspects of New Zealand's
part in the Second World War which will not receive detailed treatment in the campaign
volumes and which are considered either worthy of special notice or typical of many
phases of our war experience. The series is illustrated with material which would otherwise
seldom see publication.
THE FIRST OFFENSIVE RAID by the
The two New Zealanders who were in action on this historic day each had an eventful flight.
Squadron Leader L. S. Lamb1 was leader of a formation of Wellington bombers attacked by nine
German fighters. Although two of the bombers were shot down before an escape could be made
into cloud, Lamb's skilful leadership in the battle undoubtedly saved the lives of many in the
formation.
The Wellington aircraft had been ordered to bomb two warships located at Brunsbuttel but
only one aircraft found a target. The Blenheims, flown to the Schillig Roads, were more fortunate.
The first formation found the German battleship Admiral Scheer and, bombing from masthead
height, took the enemy completely by surprise. A second formation of five Blenheims attacking
the Admiral Scheer fifteen minutes later found the crew of the battleship at action stations. The
aircraft flew in almost at sea level, and as Sergeant M. H. S. Innes-Jones2 watched—he was
navigator and bomb-aimer of the fourth aircraft preparing to attack—the three Blenheims in
front of him were each shot down in succession. As his captain approached the battleship, the fifth
Squadron Leader Lamb and Sergeant Innes-Jones were two of some five hundred New
Zealanders who were serving in the
At the beginning of the Second World War British bombing policy was governed by the
consideration that the less bombing there was the better. The Royal Air Force was not strong
enough to provoke retaliation by the numerically superior
At the beginning of the war much had still to be learned about the tactical use of a bomber force. It was later realised that bombing a warship from a low height could do little damage and was suicidal. It was soon apparent, also, that heavy casualties would be incurred if attacks were made in daylight on objectives strongly protected by shore-based fighters.
On 3 bore the brunt of the initial attack. His aircraft
was hit and several of the crew wounded, but Hetherington managed to return to base, only to
crash as he attempted to land. He and two of the crew were killed.
The air battle lasted for nearly an hour, continuous attacks being made on the formation from
all sides. In the leading aircraft, piloted by Squadron Leader A. McKee,4 the wireless operator,
Corporal C. B. G. Knight,5 coolly carried on with his work in spite of such continuous distractions
as enemy tracer passing his window. As chief wireless operator for the formation he was responsible
for obtaining valuable bearings on German wireless stations for navigational purposes and for
passing messages to base, including the sighting reports of the German warships encountered.
In this action five Wellingtons were lost and one was severely damaged. A few days later, twelve
out of twenty-four Wellingtons were shot down in a similar engagement.
Thereafter daylight attacks on warships in the German North Sea bases were discontinued. Aircraft of Bomber Command continued to search the North Sea for German warships, but the weather was generally so bad that to find, much less attack, such tiny and elusive targets became almost impossible.
THE POLICY WHEREBY BOMBER COMMAND was not permitted to drop bombs on
other than military objectives—and even these targets could not be attacked if there was risk
of injury to civilians—led the aircrews to agree with the American press in speaking of the ‘Phony
War’. Bomber Command was mainly engaged during this period in training and in making
reconnaissance flights by night deep into the heart of
Although the pamphlet raids were probably of little value as propaganda, the aircrews so engaged became familiar with the whereabouts of roads, railways, power stations, factories, and airfields in conditions similar to those which would prevail when they were allowed to bomb. The real value of these raids, however, lay in the training they gave.
In peace the aircrews had not had the same opportunity to make long flights by night, certainly
not over a totally blacked-out country. Now it was often necessary to change course when attacked
by enemy fighters or to avoid sudden bursts of anti-aircraft fire. Each change of direction might be
affected by a wind very different from that forecast, for in wartime there was not the same information available about possible changes in the weather. Instead of an expected head wind, there
At first the Germans offered little opposition to flights over their territory; possibly they preferred not to betray gun and searchlight positions, or perhaps they felt that leaflets could not do any harm. Sometimes the anti-aircraft fire was heavy and an occasional night fighter was seen. But the Germans were working continuously to improve their defences and these became far more formidable as the months passed.
The worst enemy of the aircrews was the weather. One of the greatest dangers was from the formation of ice on the plane surfaces which could, by altering the shape of the wing, reduce the ‘lift’ of the aircraft. Ice might also jam the ailerons, elevators, or rudders and cause the pilot temporarily to lose control. In addition, fine powdered snow might seep into the cockpit and gun turrets, freezing on clothes and equipment. All too often the heating system inside the aircraft would fail and crews would have to work in temperatures 20 and 30 degrees below zero. The intense cold was such that on occasions men would beat their heads against the bulkheads—any pain rather than that from the cold. Frostbite was common.
An electric storm was a frightening experience and dangerous because of its effect on the compass and other vital instruments. The whole aircraft might be outlined in violet light, sparks might fly from one point to another, and every movement of the crew crackled in the electric air. As the leaflets dropped through the chutes they crackled and gave off sparks; even the knives with which the bundles were cut discharged sparks.
Such were some of the conditions that the aircrews had to face night after night. Perhaps the
one causing most anxiety was the uncertainty about the weather in England. The most difficult
part of the whole flight often came at the end of several hours in the air when crews were almost
exhausted, their mental faculties slowed by the cold and strain of the flight. While over
Another task which British bombers were called on to carry out during the early part of the
war was to patrol the islands of Sylt, Borkum, and Norderney on the north-west coast of
The ban on the bombing of military objectives on land was temporarily lifted on the night of
6 and P. W. West7 and Flying Officers
K. N. Gray8 and F. H. Long,9 and to the public, the raid was a welcome break in the apparent
stalemate.
A LTHOUGH DURING THE FIRST few months of the war most of the New Zealand
aircrews were scattered among 10
The New Zealand Government immediately placed the six Wellingtons in the flight at the disposal of the British Government. The men themselves were for some weeks uncertain about their future. They wanted to stay and fight but were keen to remain a complete unit. With this desire the Air Officer Commanding-in-Chief, Bomber Command, was in complete agreement.
The New Zealand Government approved the formation of a New Zealand Bomber Squadron
within the
Three aircraft took off captained by Squadron Leader C. E. Kay,11 Flying Officer J. N. Collins,12
and Flying Officer. J. Adams;13 with them were Pilot Officer T. O. Freeman,14 Pilot Officer D. J.
Harkness,15 and AC1 E. P. Williams.16 The remainder of the crews were made up from men of
the
From this time until the invasion of
The most important sortie during this period was made on 12 April by Flight Lieutenant
A. A. N. Breckon17 who, accompanied by Pilot Officer D. J. Harkness, LAC E. P. Williams,
three
Landfall was made at the Lofoten Islands at 1305 hours. The visibility on the coast was approximately 2-3 miles, 10/10 cloud at 800 feet, with an extremely strong wind blowing which
caused the most unpleasant conditions. Great difficulty was experienced in controlling the
aircraft while flying alongside the mountains in the Fiord. A reconnaissance of Vestfjorden
was made and photographs were taken between 1330 and 1430 hours. As we proceeded into the
Fiord, weather conditions rapidly deteriorated, clouds came down to about 300 feet and to
almost sea level in places, causing visibility at times of 500 yards and less. A great effort was
made to reach the town of Narvik at the head of the Fiord, but although we were nearly at our
objective, we had to turn back for our own safety as we were flying at 200 feet in a heavy snow
storm, with the clouds closing in on us, making us wonder if we could make a safe exit. During
the entire reconnaissance of the Fiord, we had extremely bad flying conditions and the most
At this time it was known that the enemy held Narvik in force. The First Battle of Narvik
had been fought two days before and the
DURING THE NORWEGIAN CAMPAIGN Bomber Command was unable to give
direct support either to the British or Norwegian armies. There were no bomber bases
nearer than in
Crews from the New Zealand Bomber Squadron were among the first to see signs of the
impending invasion of
The following day Pilot Officers O. H. Keedwell18 and J. D. Murphy19 sighted a strong enemy
naval force in the North Sea. They attacked a battleship but scored no hits. Sergeant M. H. S.
Innes-Jones in the leading aircraft of one flight saw his bombs overshoot and hit one of the escorting
destroyers. Unfortunately the German warships were later lost sight of until they were located
and attacked at Bergen two days later.
From the time of the German invasion of 20 was lost.
During the middle of April British troops landed at Namsos and Aandalsnes, but, in the face of heavy German air attacks, were forced to withdraw a fortnight later. At Narvik, where local air superiority was achieved by British fighters, the town was captured and held until the beginning of June.
There is some evidence that the attacks on his airfields did force the enemy to reduce his bombing
in the Aandalsnes and Namsos areas, but attacks on shipping and the mining of Kattegat and
Skagerrak had no apparent effect upon the flow of German reinforcements into
THE GERMAN INVASION of
From the moment the attack began, Bomber Command with the Advanced Air Striking
Force (AASF)—a force of medium bombers (Battle and
By 14 May the situation had become very bad. The Germans broke through at Sedan and, in addition, crossed the Meuse near Dinant. A huge gap was opened, and next day, with virtually nothing to stop them, the Germans poured through towards the Channel. In the north the Belgians were retiring to the Antwerp defences and the resistance of the Dutch was in its final stages.
During the period before the break-through the AASF operated by day bombing enemy
columns, principally in the Luxembourg area. Most of the aircraft in which they flew were the
single-engined Battles, even then regarded as obsolescent. They were slow, unmanoeuvreable, and
carried little protection against enemy fighters. At first the aircraft flew at 1000 feet until a target
was sighted, when they came down to ground level, lifting to avoid hedges and other obstacles.
The attack was made down the length of a column in order to take advantage of the larger target
so offered; no bombsight was used. Another method of attack was to bomb whilst diving from
5000 feet to
Home-based Blenheims, as well as the two AASF 21 and Pilot Officer C. R. Frankish.22 Pilot Officer O. H. Keedwell
was shot down in flames by fighter aircraft which attacked his formation after it had been broken
up by intense anti-aircraft fire.
By night during this critical period New Zealanders flying Wellingtons, Whitleys, and Hampdens bombed enemy mechanised columns, bridges, roads, and road junctions many miles behind the battle area. Bombing accuracy was not as high as in daylight but at least losses were light.
By attacking bridges and communications the AASF attempted to stop the Germans as they
began breaking through at Sedan on 14 May, but, with the force available, could do little.
The path of the Battles and Blenheims was bitterly contested and at least 40 of the 71 aircraft
which took part in this operation were lost. Pilot Officer V. A. Cunningham23 lost his life whilst
making a brave attempt to machine-gun a pontoon bridge; Pilot Officer T. B. Fitzgerald24 was
No. 75 (NZ) SQUADRON
(Translation)
PROPORTION OF LOSSES
(Only those firmly established as shot down are here
taken into consideration.)
AND IN GERMANY …
Day and night British flyers bomb vital points of
IS THIS PROOF OF GERMAN AIR SUPERIORITY?
NARVIK FLIGHT
OPERATIONS OVER NORWAY
The Fall of
A flight to Germany
TARGET & RETURN FLIGHT
Preparations for another flight
wounded but crash-landed successfully and was later awarded the DFC for his part in the attack;
Pilot Officer H. L. Oakley25 was also shot down but baled out from his aircraft just in time. The
German advance was halted for a few hours but that was all.
During the first few days following the break-through, the AASF, now operating only by night because of the earlier heavy losses, and hampered both by continual moves from one base to another and the resulting breakdown in supply and communications, made few attacks on the enemy. Bomber Command flew mainly by night, directing as many sorties as possible against enemy troop movements and communications in the fighting area, but could do no more than harass the enemy's advance.
On 20 May the approach of German columns towards Arras threatened the rear of the British
On 21 May the Germans reached the Channel Coast, severing the Allied armies in the north
from those south of the
The evacuation began on the night of 26 May. In the days and nights immediately before this date the AASF, having neither the range nor the detailed information necessary, was unable to take any part in supporting the Northern Armies. The only direct part that Bomber Command could play in influencing the course of the land battle was to detail such Blenheims as were available to attack enemy columns near the battle zone and to bomb pontoon bridges over rivers and canals.
Home-based bombers and AASF aircraft continued to operate by night, directing their attacks
partly against the Upper Meuse crossings and partly against the great railway network in
During the period of the evacuation from
After Dunkirk the Germans turned their attention to the Allied armies in the South then
disposed along the
During this period the men of Bomber Command and the AASF continued to harass the
enemy by attacking troop movements near the battle area, usually where the pressure was heaviest
on the French. As the German forces crossed the
IMMEDIATELY THE GERMANS invaded
The first bombs of the strategic bombing plan were dropped on the night of
From this night onwards
On 10 June 26 took part in this first war flight over Italian soil.
Twelve Wellingtons, six of them from No. 75 (NZ) Squadron, were to have accompanied the
Whitleys to
With the capitulation of
The immediate task was to take steps to reduce the scale of attack on England. Aircraft works and airfields were bombed and many attacks made on ports and shipping concentrations. On 22 July, however, it was decided that attacks on barges and shipping in canals and ports were only to be carried out if the craft appeared to be concentrated for invasion.
In the weeks following the fall of France British bombers, usually numbering up to one hundred,
would go out night after night to bomb targets in
Most targets were bombed from several thousand feet, but some crews descended to a very low height to make sure of identifying and hitting their target. If there was dense cloud this could be extremely dangerous, especially in hilly or mountainous country; cloud can play strange tricks on the senses so that a pilot can imagine that the aircraft is being flown upside down or in any but the right position. If he succumbs to the temptation to disbelieve his instruments, he may easily lose control and crash in attempting to right his aircraft.
Pilot Officer J. F. Swift27 made a successful attack on the railway marshalling yard at Osnabruck
during
A particularly hazardous low-level raid at this time was that made on the Tirpitz, then berthed
at 28 who captained one of the
aircraft shot down, was taken prisoner.
The damage caused by the bombing of German industry and communications at this time was not very serious. On occasions, when conditions were favourable, severe damage was done, but it is now known that many of the bombs dropped were miles off their targets.
This lack of accuracy was caused by the difficulty of navigating an aircraft several hundred miles over a totally blacked-out country, of finding the target upon arrival in the area, and of hitting that target whilst trying to evade innumerable bursts of anti-aircraft fire and the probing fingers of searchlights. An aircraft rarely flies in a straight line but, affected by continually changing winds, almost always moves crabwise in much the same manner as a boat crossing a swift stream. It was, of course, extremely difficult for the meteorologist to predict accurately the speed and direction of the wind for several hours ahead, and it was necessary for the navigator to check continually any change in the wind by measuring with a special instrument the drift of the aircraft relative to objects on the ground. When the aircraft flew over heavy cloud for hundreds of miles the navigator could only work out, with the aid of his sextant, an approximate position (usually to within five or ten miles) by observation of the stars.
With every change in direction, speed, and height of the aircraft—and sudden bursts of ‘flak’
made them frequent—the navigator had to make new calculations. It is obvious that the task of
guiding an aircraft flying at a speed of nearly three miles a minute to within even a few miles of
the target was not easy. Upon arrival at the estimated position of their objective the bomber crews
would have to search systematically for the target, often for as long as an hour, a task which was
made more difficult by the dummy cities which the Germans were beginning to build. Very often
Though the German defences were to become much stronger, they were by no means negligible
during the
One of the first aircraft from No. 75 (NZ) Squadron to be engaged by enemy night fighters
was captained by Flying Officer N. Williams.29 The attack was made by three He113s over Wesel;
one fighter (and possibly a second) was shot down by the gunners in the Wellington and the third
was driven off. The Wellington, though riddled with bullets, was then flown back to its base.
Perhaps the crew of another aircraft from No. 75 Squadron also met German night fighters
on this night, for they did not return. Two of the crew, Flight Sergeant R. A. J. Anderson,30
the wireless operator, and Sergeant J. L. Owen,31 a gunner, were New Zealanders.
It might justifiably be asked what was the point in our aircrews risking their lives at all in
The answer is that after the Battle of
IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY there is a chapel dedicated to the memory of the men of the
After the fall of
To the men of Fighter Command must go the credit for preventing the
But Bomber Command also played some part in forcing
Early in September the movement of large numbers of self-propelled barges and small ships
into Ostend,
On 17 September
Most New Zealanders operating over the invasion ports at this time flew
One of the most determined attacks made on an invasion port was carried out by Pilot Officer
F. H. Denton,32 of
He broke cloud at 1000 feet and manoeuvred until he was in a position to attack this target (the docks and shipping at Flushing) which he knew was heavily defended. Pilot Officer Denton dived through a devastating curtain of light flak and machine-gun fire in a most determined and courageous manner, releasing his bombs at an altitude so low that the force of the explosions rocketed his aircraft several hundred feet in the air. Nevertheless, he was able to see large fires and explosions amongst the shipping and docks. He eventually, with great difficulty, brought his aircraft, with gaping holes through each wing, safely back to its base….
THE PART THAT NEW ZEALANDERS played in the work of Bomber Command during the first year of the war is difficult to assess. They were scattered among every squadron in the Command and took part in almost every operation.
During the period from the beginning of the war to the end of
In addition, members of the
Many New Zealanders who were serving in the
Although few in number, New Zealanders formed a greater proportion of Bomber Command
in the first year of the war than at any later period. At a time when the shortage of trained aircrews
was acute they made an important contribution to the British bombing effort, and with their
fellows in the
THE AUTHOR,
1Squadron Leader L. S. Lamb; clerk; born
2Squadron Leader M. H. S. Innes-Jones;
3Flight Lieutenant E. J. Hetherington;
4Air Commodore A. McKee, CBE, DSO, DFC, AFC, m.i.d.;
5Flight Lieutenant C. B. G. Knight, DFM;
6Squadron Leader W. M. Nixon, DFC;
7Squadron Leader P. W. West, DFC; clerk; born
8Flying Officer K. N. Gray, DFC, Czechoslovakian War Cross; schoolteacher; born
9Flight Lieutenant F. H. Long, DFC; woolbuyer; born
10Air Commodore M. W. Buckley, CBE, US Legion of Merit, m.i.d.;
11Air Commodore C. E. Kay, CBE, DFC;
12Flight Lieutenant J. N. Collins; clerk; born
13Wing Commander J. Adams, DFC, AFC;
14Wing Commander T. O. Freeman, DSO, DFC and bar;
15Squadron Leader D. J. Harkness, DFC; clerk; born Midhurst, Taranaki,
16Flight Lieutenant E. P. Williams, DFM;
17Wing Commander A. A. N. Breckon, DFC;
18Flying Officer O. H. Keedwell; stock agent; born
19Pilot Officer J. D. Murphy; farmer; born
20Pilot Officer D. A. Rankin; clerk; born
21Flying Officer T. G. Bassett; bank clerk; born Te Kopuru,
22Pilot Officer C. R. Frankish; farmer; born
23Pilot Officer V. A. Cunningham; shipping clerk; born
24Wing Commander T. B. Fitzgerald, DFC; farmer; born
25Flight Lieutenant H. L. Oakley;
26Pilot Officer P. G. Brodie;
27Flying Officer J. F. Swift, DFC; motor mechanic; born
28Pilot Officer A. H. Gould, DFC;
29Flight Lieutenant N. Williams, DFC;
30Flight Sergeant R. A. J. Anderson; gardener; born
31Sergeant J. L. Owen; clerk; born
32Wing Commander F. H. Denton, DFC and bar;
The occupations given in each case are those on enlistment.
THE NARRATIVE is based on official records and reports made available by
the Air Ministry and supplemented by personal interviews. The photographs were
supplied by the Air Ministry Information Section and the Royal New Zealand
the type used throughout the series is
Aldine Bembo
which was revived for monotype from a rare book printed by aldus
in 1495 * the text is set in 12 point on
a body of 14 point
cover photograph
Vapour Trails over Westminster
IT IS THE INTENTION of this series to present aspects of New Zealand's
part in the Second World War which will not receive detailed treatment in the campaign
volumes and which are considered either worthy of special notice or typical of many
phases of our war experience. The series is illustrated with material which would otherwise
seldom see publication.
‘The gratitude of every home in our Island, in our Empire, and indeed throughout the World, except in the abodes of the guilty, goes out to the British airmen who, undaunted by odds, unwearied in their constant challenge and mortal danger, are turning the tide of world war by their prowess and by their devotion. Never in the field of human conflict was so much owed by so many to so few.’
THIS account of the great days of
This narrative is confined to the deeds of fighter pilots, but although their gallantry has by now
become a household word, the work of
Nor was the battle fought exclusively in the air, a point which was made by the Secretary of
State for Air on
…. The battle is being fought not only in the air. It is being fought in the Maintenance
Command, in the workshops, and at the dispersal points of the squadrons of the Royal Air
Force. It is being fought in the Flying Training and Technical Training Commands of the
The staunch resistance to the blitz of the citizens of
WHEN FRANCE, overrun in some six weeks by the full weight of the German forces,
finally capitulated on
Although an invasion of Great Britain had been considered by the German Naval Staff as
early asthe late
Had the Germans followed
* * * * * * * *
The strength of Fighter Command when the issue was joined on 10 July was fifty-two
operational squadrons, all but three of which had already been heavily engaged in the Continental
fighting. This force was composed of twenty-two squadrons of Hurricanes, twenty of Spitfires,
eight of Blenheims, and two of Defiants. It had always been assumed that any attack on Great
1
Throughout the battle Air Vice-Marshal Park had some twenty-two squadrons under his
control, though his effective fighting force was restricted to about twelve Hurricane and six
Spitfire squadrons. The balance was made up of
Herein lay the essence of Fighter Command's defensive strategy, for had the Group Commanders been compelled by the absence of early warning to man their patrol lines constantly,
they would have found themselves as often as not at the disadvantage of having to make interceptions with fighters low in fuel. In addition pilots, engines, and maintenance crews would have
been subjected to severe strain by the long hours of wasteful flying. Over land the early type of
radar was not effective and raid intelligence was supplied by a chain of
This system, working progressively downwards from Fighter Command through the Groups to the Sectors, enabled the Command to identify approaching formations and allot the interception of raids to particular Groups, also to reinforce one Group by another if necessary. The Group Commander decided which Sector would meet each specific raid and detailed the strength in squadrons to be used. The Sector Commander decided which fighter units were to be employed and operated the machinery of interception by using the position, course, height, and speed of the enemy aircraft and of his own fighters, which were concurrently displayed on his plotting table in the operations room. He controlled his fighters by a series of courses broadcast over the radio telephone until, on making interception, tactical control passed to the fighter leader in the air who then directed his pilots into battle.
This was the system under which the battle was fought. Dependent on painstaking attention to detail by hundreds of men and women, it had been organised by Air Chief Marshal Sir Hugh Dowding in the pre-war years, and because of its inherent quality and flexibility it enabled the German mass attacks to be beaten.
THE BATTLE fell into four main phases. During the first phase from 10 July to 18 August a
series of raids was directed against Channel shipping and ports on the South coast. Between
10 July and 7 August the
* * * * * * *
On 2 July German squadrons began regular daylight attacks against targets in Great Britain. From the 10th these attacks were designed principally to exhaust the British fighter force, for on that date the first really large enemy formation (70 aircraft) was employed. This date, then, marks the real opening of the battle.
On 10 July two large formations of enemy aircraft attempted to attack convoys off 2 who was leading a section of No. 74 Squadron Spitfires; it was the first kill for a
New Zealander. Cobden led the eight-gun Spitfires into the attack at high speed and immediately
picked out a straggling Dornier for an attack from astern. Black smoke poured from the starboard
engine of the enemy aircraft, but at that moment Cobden, then alone, was attacked from above by
Me109s, several of whose pilots combined to seriously damage his Spitfire. Despite this, Cobden
was able to evade the enemy and make a landing with wheels up on a coastal airfield. The Dornier
was claimed as destroyed. Altogether during the engagement seven enemy aircraft were shot
down for the loss of one pilot, while the convoy lost only one 400-ton vessel.
The attacks on convoys on the 10th and the following day confirmed Air Chief Marshal
Dowding's opinion that if the Channel convoys became the chief German objective a great strain
would be put on the squadrons based near the South coast. Because of the small number of available
squadrons, in comparison with the wide territory they were responsible for protecting, only small
fighter escorts could be provided for the coastal convoys, for whose protection Fighter Command
was responsible. Thus there was always the danger that an escort might be suddenly attacked by
For the next ten days the Germans used tactics similar to those already discussed, in that they
launched two or three raids, suitably separated in time, either in the central Channel or the Straits.
In every case the targets were convoys, and the attackers, having built up a strong force of aircraft
over the French coast, moved quickly to the target without any attempt at concealment. Consequently the defending squadrons, arriving one by one over the area, were often too late to
interfere with the bombers, who retired as quickly as possible, leaving their escort of Me109s and
Me110s, who normally held the advantage of height, to act as rearguard. These conditions prevailed on the 19th when Fighter Command suffered unusually heavy casualties in beating off an
attack on shipping in Dover Harbour by Junkers 87 dive-bombers. Defending fighters were late
off the ground, and it was fifteen minutes after the first report of bombing had been received that
3 J. R. Kemp,4 and R. Kidson.5 The Defiants, each
mounting a four-gun turret in the mid-dorsal position, were flying towards Cap Gris Nez when
they were attacked at 5000 feet off
The events of the next few days indicated that the Germans were possibly not yet agreed on the
policy of staying behind to fight after each attack had been made. Indeed on several occasions when
Fighter Command aircraft were early in the air, strong German formations turned before the
defenders. However, on 24 July the enemy launched heavy attacks on convoys both in the Straits
and off
No. 54 Squadron, a flight of which was commanded by Flight Lieutenant A. C. Deere,6 and
which also included Pilot Officer C. F. Gray7 among its pilots, was heavily engaged throughout the
day. The squadron regarded the operations as ‘the biggest and most successful since
I managed to stall turn on to their tails and fire a burst into the centre of the formation. Me109s then came down from above and a dogfight ensued. I had general wild bursts at various aircraft but was unable to get a decent bead because of constant attacks from behind. I managed, however, one long burst at an Me109 at close range and he went down with glycol pouring from his machine.
Meanwhile Gray was engaged with two of the enemy fighters. Having damaged the first, he set fire to the second and saw the German pilot jump by parachute and fall into the sea. Altogether under Deere's leadership the squadron was credited with five enemy aircraft definitely destroyed and a further nine probably destroyed or damaged. Only one pilot from the squadron was lost.
This testing phase had made it clear that the Germans were frequently able to bomb targets in
the Straits before being intercepted and that the large protecting umbrella, plus the advantage
of height which their fighters almost invariably enjoyed, gave them tactical superiority; but the
BY THE END OF THE FIRST WEEK in August the
The main problem was to know which was the diversionary attack, and to hold sufficient squadrons in readiness to meet the main attack when this could be discerned from the very unreliable information received from the radar stations after they had been heavily bombed.
To meet the attacks against coastal objectives it was necessary to keep nearly all the readiness squadrons at forward airfields, such as Lympne, Mansion, Rochford, and Hawkinge, from which Air Vice-Marshal Park sent half his available squadrons, including the Spitfires, to engage the enemy fighters and the remainder to attack the enemy bombers flying at 11,000 to 13,000 feet. As the fighter screens to the main bombing formations flew in large unwieldy masses some 5000 to 10,000 feet above the bombers, the Spitfires had to climb to well over 20,000 feet to intercept them. Hence they rarely had the advantage of height. On the other hand, this fact often allowed fighter pilots to do severe damage to the bombing force before general dogfighting developed between fighter and fighter.
The first really heavy attack on a land target since July was made on the morning of 11 August
against 8 In the early stages the top cover of
Messerschmitt fighters, which were some distance east of the main formation, was brought to
battle by other squadrons, but it fell to
Attacked Junkers 88 in leading section from beam and gave two-second burst and rear gunner stopped firing. Put a second burst in the starboard engine which caught fire and aircraft crashed in flames on the west side of Portland Bill….
That little very serious damage was done in this attack was largely due to the efforts of
For the next few days there was intensive enemy activity between the Isle of Wight and the
Thames Estuary. Targets attacked included radar stations, convoys, and coastal towns. According to
a German account of the air war against Great Britain, 13 August was chosen as Adlertag (Eagle Day)
and marked the opening of an all-out four-day offensive designed to smash the fighter defences in
Southern England. Once this goal was reached the offensive was to be extended northwards,
sector by sector, until all England was covered by day attacks and Fighter Command was irreparably broken. The way for invasion would then be open. It is interesting to note, however, that
at this date (13 August) the
THIS DAY was outstanding in many respects. Five major operations were fought; the activity
ranged over a front of 500 miles from
The first major attack was launched by two waves, totalling about 100 enemy aircraft, against
the fighter station of Hawkinge, in Kent. Pilot Officer J. A. A. Gibson9 led a section of No. 501
Squadron Hurricanes from Hawkinge to intercept the attack. Gibson sighted one formation of
about twenty Junkers 87 dive-bombers approaching from the south, and attacking from out of
the sun he sent one into the sea in flames. He then noticed other dive-bombers attacking his home
airfield. Returning at speed he was in time to intercept two and damage one of them. Their rear
gunners, however, set his Hurricane on fire, but, noticing that he was near the town of
Then followed an unusual attack in that it was directed not against the South or South-east
coasts but against targets in the North-east. The attack came shortly after noon and was split into
two thrusts, one directed at Sunderland and Tynemouth and the other against the airfield at
It was Air Chief Marshal Sir Hugh Dowding's opinion that:
The sustained resistance which they (the Germans) were meeting in South-east England probably led them to believe that fighter squadrons had been withdrawn wholly or in part from the North to meet the attack… the contrary was soon apparent and the bombers received such a drubbing that the experiment was not repeated.
In fact, instead of having an easy passage, the Germans were met by nine squadrons of Spitfires and Hurricanes which considerably thinned their ranks.
Pilot Officer J. N. MacKenzie10 was with one of the four squadrons which intercepted the main
attack against the Tynemouth area. His squadron encountered an arrowhead formation of fifty
bombers flying at 18,000 feet, escorted by forty Me110s a little astern and above. These escort
fighters retained their formation when attacked and the combat resolved itself into a dogfight
with the escort and a few loose bombers. MacKenzie singled out a Junkers 88 for attack and closed
to within 80 yards of the enemy aircraft before breaking away. He last saw the Junkers entering
cloud with smoke pouring from one engine.
The Germans cannot have been well pleased about the effectiveness of this raid, for in the Tyneside area no military damage was caused and industrial damage was insignificant. Meanwhile some 30 to 40 bombers and escorting fighters were attacking the aerodrome at Driffield. The airfield was extensively cratered and many buildings and hangars destroyed. But the fighter pilots exacted a heavy price from the Germans, for as a result of these attacks in the North-east, no fewer than fifty-six enemy aircraft of an attacking force of about three times that number were claimed destroyed. Not one British aircraft was lost although a few were damaged.
In the afternoon large formations of enemy aircraft attacked a fighter airfield and four radar
stations in the South-east; an aircraft factory was also dive-bombed. This was followed by two
attacks in the evening. The first was launched against Portsmouth and 11 led No. 87 Hurricane Squadron, which included Flying Officers
D. H. Ward12 and K. W. Tait,13 to intercept this raid and the ensuing combat was described as
the fiercest the squadron had experienced. The enemy fighters on being attacked formed themselves
into two main defensive circles while the squadron set about them with good results. Squadron
Leader Lovell-Gregg was shot down during this hectic engagement, but his loss was avenged by
Ward and Tait, who each claimed the destruction of an Me110.
This attack against the South coast was hardly over when the pilots were called upon to intercept
yet another heavy raid directed against an airfield in
In all, as a result of the day's operations, it is now known that the
On the 17th, despite the fact that good weather prevailed over England, there was a general
lull in operations. The Luftwaffe's strenuous efforts to knock out Fighter Command ended on
Sunday the 18th, when the Junkers 87 dive-bombers operated for the last time in any strength and
At Biggin Hill, where Pilot Officers W. S. Williams14 and R. M. Trousdale15 were stationed
with No. 266 Squadron, the pilots were ordered off the ground shortly before their aerodrome
was bombed and by determined attacks against the enemy force were able to mitigate substantially
the severity of the attack, so that the only damage to the airfield was light cratering. Both the
New Zealanders were engaged, Williams climbing back to 15,000 feet for a second attack after
having chased an enemy fighter in a dive before opening fire and sending it crashing into the sea
five miles from the French coast. There was an aftermath to this engagement, however, for having
returned to their base to refuel, the Squadron's Spitfires were attacked on the ground and Trousdale's aircraft, amongst others, was destroyed.
These attacks brought this phase of the Battle of
IN THE FOLLOWING five days there was none of the fire that had characterised the German effort throughout the preceding week. Indeed the Germans seemed to be resting after their exertions, and there is no doubt that the pause gave Fighter Command, too, a much-needed breathing space. Nevertheless, across the Channel the German commanders were not without hope of ultimate victory, for on 20 August the battle order of the German Commander-in-Chief was as follows:
Continue the fight against the British Air Force until further notice with the aim of weakening the British fighter strength. The enemy is to be forced by ceaseless attacks to bring his fighter formations into operation….
In accordance with these instructions intensive operations were renewed by the Germans on
24 August, and for the next fortnight they sought by heavy attacks on airfields to the north and
south of
Above the Clouds
COMBAT
On a typical day in which heavy attacks were launched at intervals, activity over the
To deal with these new tactics Air Vice-Marshal Park arranged that some of his fighter
squadrons should meet the enemy as far forward as possible. Other squadrons, including reinforcements from the neighbouring sectors of Nos. 10 and 12 Groups, patrolled the all-important fighter
airfields near and around
On occasions Squadron Commanders would send one flight against the bombers whilst the other attempted to contain the enemy fighter aircraft. These were the tactics adopted by the Commanding Officer of No. 87 Squadron on the 25th when he led his squadron from Exeter to intercept 100 enemy aircraft making an attack against Warmwell airfield. Although six other fighter squadrons were airborne in the area this squadron made interception alone. The trend of the action is admirably described by a squadron report, as follows:
‘B’ Flight went for the Junkers 88s and the Me110s went for ‘B’ Flight. ‘A’ Flight then attacked the Me110s.
Flying Officer Tait, who was leading a section in ‘A’ Flight, attacked approximately thirty Me110s at 18,000 feet and saw the leader fire two red Very lights, evidently calling for the top cover of Me109s to come down. His report continues:
They did. Attacked one 110 trying to enter a vicious circle. After three bursts he dived away with one engine stopped and crashed into the sea. Attacked a 109 from directly above with full deflection—a Spitfire also attacked it from the beam. The 109 crashed on land.
It subsequently transpired that this squadron, although heavily outnumbered, had accounted for no less than nine enemy aircraft. In spite of their losses the bombers got through to Warmwell, where they dropped twenty to thirty bombs, doing damage to hangars and buildings. The enemy fighters at heavy cost carried out their duty of protecting the bombers: thirty-six German fighters were claimed destroyed but only four bombers were claimed to have been shot down in the entire engagement.
It was during this phase that Flight Lieutenant Deere and Pilot Officer Gray established themselves as outstanding fighter pilots. Both had been decorated a few days previously, Deere receiving
a bar to the DFC he won at
Many of these combats were in direct defence of the vital airfields protecting 16 and other pilots of No. 85 Hurricane Squadron.
All through the early morning of that day the Germans had simulated attacks, thereby
necessitating wearying standing patrols over fighter airfields. However, by 10.30 a.m. it was
obvious that the enemy was preparing in earnest and accordingly upwards of nine fighter squadrons
I then pulled up to 23,000 feet, dived on a straggling Me110 and gave a long burst from the beam through to line astern…. I pulled away and climbed to 25,000 feet and dived on another straggler and did the same attack with the same result. I then climbed up to 26,000 feet and dived through a circle of Me110s and pulled up underneath one. I shot into his belly at about 100 yards, closing to 50 yards range, and he rolled over with white smoke pouring out from underneath him and went down in a controlled glide. I had to break away as I had run out of ammunition and about seven Me110s dived on me so I hit out for home base….
As a result of this day's operations thirty-seven German aircraft were destroyed. But twenty-six
Fighter Command aircraft were lost and fourteen pilots killed or wounded. This was a severe blow
to the fighter strength, especially at a time when losses in pilots and aircraft substantially exceeded
the reinforcements available. In respect of aircraft, the needs of the squadrons were being met by
using reserves built up during quiet periods, so that although the gross output was not keeping pace
with the casualties, the supply of aircraft never became a factor limiting the scale of operations.
It was the supply of pilots that caused most concern, for at the beginning of September there was
an average deficiency of about ten operational pilots in each Fighter Command squadron, although
No. 11 Group squadrons were maintained at an average of nineteen operational pilots. The establishment of a fighter squadron was 26 pilots.
This phase then, marked the crisis of the Battle of
There was a critical period between 28 August and 5 September when the damage to sector
stations and our ground organisation was having a serious effect on the fighting efficiency of the
fighter squadrons. Had the enemy continued his heavy attacks, the fighter defences of
ON SATURDAY, 7 September, the enemy turned to the heavy attack of
It had already been envisaged that the Germans would attempt an invasion within the next
two weeks and that control of the air over South-east England would be vital to the operation.
But although increased attacks were expected, the switch of the main German offensive to an
attack on
The third phase of the battle opened with a series of reconnaissance raids during the morning
and a light fighter-bomber attack on coastal airfields. The remainder of the day was quiet, and it
was not until about 4 p.m. that a German force was first reported to be gathering over the French
coast. During the next thirty minutes the development in strength of the attacking force proceeded, paralleled by the periodic despatch of fighter squadrons to the
Almost immediately Flight Lieutenant J. A. A. Gibson was engaged with No. 501 Squadron
against a force of over 150 enemy aircraft, but he was the only pilot to make a claim and that an
inconclusive one. The bombers then flew up the 17 leading a section of No. 603 Squadron Spitfires, reported waves of
bombers escorted by fighters above, around, and below them. His first attack was against an Me109
which burst into flames, then, having climbed into the sun, he saw a string of fighters below him.
He made two attacks on a straggler from this formation and left it in a dive, streaming glycol.
Climbing again to 30,000 feet, Carbury dived through a formation of German aircraft, spraying
them with bullets, but as he did not see any damage, the New Zealander, although short of petrol,
oxygen, and ammunition, once more climbed up and attacked two formations of enemy fighters.
Again he fired at a straggler and saw it burst into flames. Of seven enemy aircraft claimed destroyed
or damaged by his squadron, Carbury was credited with three.
However, at this time, while one third of the fighter defences was engaged with the retreating
enemy, other bomb-carrying formations were approaching East London. The second wave were
all engaged shortly after crossing the coast, but in the main the enemy was undeterred and at least
four formations attacked 18 of No. 234 Spitfire Squadron, damaged a Dornier 17 bomber. He then found himself
alone, but in spite of this he attacked a formation of twelve Me109s and set one on fire. This
attack was typical of many which took place all over South-east England during the day.
Many squadrons after being engaged were given time only to land, refuel, and re-arm before
being sent up again in an effort to stem the hordes of German aircraft which made the evening
hideous with their noise and filled the streets of the East End of
The fighter pilots fought gallantly to stem the enemy advance and although greatly outnumbered they achieved success in the numbers of enemy aircraft destroyed. In those early September days, none of them knew the outcome of the battle or where the enemy would strike next.
Day after day they ran to their Spitfires and Hurricanes—kept serviceable by the ground crews in
spite of bombing and strafing attacks and lack of sleep—and flew into battle against the hundreds
of enemy aircraft whose black crosses filled the skies above them. After dark, while
Such was their success that only on 7 September did the Germans succeed in breaking through
to 19 one of a small group of New Zealanders engaged in night fighting.
This dual success was certainly not a typical contemporary example; it was a unique achievement.
Herrick was flying a
Immediately afterwards another enemy aircraft was illuminated and after chasing for about 10 minutes I got within range and opened fire at about 400 yards. I then fired several short bursts with the range decreasing and obtained a good deflection shot. The enemy aircraft seemed to halt and waver in the air and I overshot as I had used all my remaining ammunition. Then the searchlights turned on me and I could see no more. As I overtook the enemy aircraft, I noticed that it was falling to pieces and that both engines were smoking badly. My rear gunner fired in both actions….
The next morning the remains of both these enemy aircraft were found. Herrick was immediately awarded the DFC for this action.
The week which followed was characterised by the fact that, particularly in the
On 15 September the
Although it has since been established that only about one third the number of enemy aircraft
claimed destroyed on that day were in fact lost by the Germans, it is still likely that 15 September
will remain as the day which turned the tide of the battle. It was remarkable for the success of
Air Vice-Marshal Park's plans for meeting the enemy as far forward as possible. This was accomplished because the Germans, by using huge masses of bomber aircraft, took over half an hour to
fly the 60 miles between the coast and the outskirts of 20 who was
leading one of the Spitfire squadrons, was able to attack an Me110 which he claimed to have
destroyed. In general the Germans were very roughly handled, as on their way inland they were
attacked by eleven squadrons of No. 11 Group and then by the mass Wing from Duxford. During
the retirement four more fighter squadrons made interception. Significantly, most of the bombs
that fell during this attack were dropped about the same time that combats were taking place.
During the second attack later in the day the Germans did more damage with their bombs, for owing to the fact that a shorter warning was available, only half of the intercepting squadrons were airborne before the Germans crossed the coast. Thus some of the fighters did not engage until the enemy were over South London, which became a bombing and a fighting area at the same time. In intercepting this attack several New Zealanders had successful combats, which can be illustrated by a few examples.
Pilot Officer G. M. Simpson,21 of No. 229 Squadron, attacked, with other Hurricanes of the
Northolt Wing, some thirty Heinkel 111s at 20,000 feet. After he and other members of his
squadron had made an attack on one of the bombers, it crash-landed on West Malling airfield, to be
joined a few moments later by Flight Lieutenant M. V. Blake,22 who was compelled to make a
forced landing on the same airfield with his windscreen covered in black oil as a result of a bullet
in his oil pipe.
About the same time Pilot Officers H. P. Hill23 and J. N. MacKenzie were patrolling Hornchurch
in Spitfires of the
I carried out three beam attacks from slightly ahead and above, breaking away at 50 yards… this aircraft crashed in the edge of a wood and exploded.
The second Heinkel landed wheels up on
As I was about to enter cloud saw a Heinkel 111 coming through. I carried out two beam attacks, also one stern attack, and the enemy aircraft finally crashed in a block of houses near Rochester.
As a result of the day's attacks 174 enemy aircraft were claimed destroyed by Fighter Command. Even at the time this figure was considered rather high, and it has since been established that fifty-six enemy aircraft were actually destroyed. In fairness to the integrity of the fighter pilots it is worth remembering that, considering the enormous numbers of aircraft engaged in combat and the wide area over which the battle raged, it was quite possible that several British pilots, unknown to one another, had engaged one and the same victim. Mr. Churchill in revealing that throughout the battle the defences got two to one of the Germans, instead of three to one as was the contemporary opinion, was content to say, ‘But this was enough’. The German reaction to the events of 15 September is apparent from the following entry which was made in the German War Diary:
The enemy The code name for the invasion of England. This decision was made on 17 September.
In fact
Meanwhile from 16 to 26 September both the nature and scale of enemy day offensive operations
underwent a change. In the main the weight of attack was reduced and there was ushered in a new
phase of air fighting in which the Germans began to operate what were essentially offensive
fighter sweeps. This was not to say, however, that enemy bombers were no longer seen, although
they were used to a lesser extent. Concentration on
The last heavy daylight raid of the month was on the 27th. In all, four attacks were made,
three of them against
THE LOSSES incurred during the heavy daylight attacks in the previous phase precluded a
continuation of this type of offensive, and thereafter enemy long-range bombers were less
frequently employed by day. The month was characterised by the switch to high-level fighter-
bomber attacks by Me109s, though long-range bombers continued to be used at night, mainly
against
Of all the tactics used by the Germans those of October were the most difficult to counter.
Because of the inability of radar control to give good warning of very high-flying raids, and of the
The New Zealanders, of whom there were now about seventy-five in the Command, some
forty of these in No. 11 Group, flew on many and varied patrols and interceptions during the
month and several of them had successful combats. On 2 October Pilot Officer J. S. Smith, An order to the pilot by radio telephone from the Controller giving a course to steer and height to fly to intercept
the enemy.24
of No. 151 Squadron, was on local flying practice when he was vectored
On 12 October Pilot Officer P. W. Rabone25 was leading a section of No. 145 Squadron
Hurricanes when he was attacked from out of the sun by two Me109s. He turned to attack the
second Messerschmitt and found himself in a tight circle with both enemy aircraft, in which
position they flew for some twenty seconds. Eventually one enemy aircraft made the mistake of
breaking out of the circle:
‘As he did so,’ Rabone later reported, ‘I delivered a burst of two seconds from 100 yards range on the port quarter. The Me109 appeared to explode in the air, no black smoke was seen but the plane spun downwards.’
Rabone was then attacked by the other Messerschmitt and felt bullets hitting his aircraft, but by violent evasive tactics he shook off his attacker and at the same time saw his first adversary dive into the sea off Dungeness.
The success of such combats was due in no small measure to the fact that Air Vice-Marshal
Park was able to adjust his tactics and interception methods to meet each change in the enemy's
plans. This was a deciding factor in the battle and earned him well merited praise from his
Commander-in-Chief, for although tactical control was delegated to Groups, tactical methods were
normally laid down by the Command. There was no time for consultation during periods of
intense fighting, however, and the Air Officer Commanding No. 11 Group acted from day to day
mainly on his own initiative. This indefatigable man directed his few fighter squadrons throughout
the entire course of the battle with admirable skill and courage. Yet, whenever a lull relieved him
from his operations room he liked nothing better than to continue with the job by climbing into
his own Hurricane and flying over the battle area. Often he would land at one of his airfields to
see for himself how his fighter pilots were standing up to the battle.
In December Air Vice-Marshal Park was made a Companion of the Order of the Bath for his ‘conspicuous success’ while commanding the fighter defences in the world's first great air battle.
WITH THE END of October the Battle of
The Battle of
On 7 September Goering's pride and joy—his
For the first time the
During the battle nearly 100 New Zealanders served with Fighter Command. Many of them
had joined the
1 Air Chief Marshal Sir Keith R. Park, GCB, KBE, MC and bar, DFC, Croix de Guerre;
2 Pilot Officer D. G. Cobden;
3 Squadron Leader J. R. Gard'ner, m.i.d.;
4 Pilot Officer J. R. Kemp; clerk; born
5 Pilot Officer R. Kidson;
6 Wing Commander A. C. Deere, DSO, OBE, DFC and bar, DFC (US), Croix de Guerre;
7 Wing Commander C. F. Gray, DSO, DFC and two bars;
8 McGregor
9 Squadron Leader J. A. A. Gibson, DSO, DFC;
10 Squadron Leader J. N. MacKenzie, DFC; farmer; born Goodwood, Otago,
11 Squadron Leader T. G. Lovell-Gregg;
12 Squadron Leader D. H. Ward, DFC and bar;
13 Flight Lieutenant K. W. Tait, DFC, m.i.d.;
14 Pilot Officer W. S. Williams, m.i.d.; clerk; born Dunedin,
15 Wing Commander R. M. Trousdale, DFC and bar;
16 Pilot Officer W. H. Hodgson, DFC; radio technician; born Frankton Junction,
17 Flying Officer B. J. G. Carbury, DFC and bar;
18 Squadron Leader K. A. Lawrence, DFC; RNZAF Station,
19 Squadron Leader M. J. Herrick, DFC and bar, Air Medal (US);
20 Wing Commander W. G. Clouston, DFC;
21 Flying Officer G. M. Simpson;
22 Wing Commander M. V. Blake, DSO, DFC;
23 Pilot Officer H. P. Hill; clerk; born
24 Wing Commander I. S. Smith, DFC and bar, m.i.d.;
25 Squadron Leader P. W. Rabone, DFC; clerk; born Salisbury, England,
THE NARRATIVE was compiled from bottom) is
copyright to the Daily Mirror Newspapers Ltd.
The maps are by L. D. McCormick from material supplied by the
THE AUTHOR,
the type used throughout the series is
Aldine Bembo
which was revived for monotype from a rare book printed by aldus
in 1495 * the text is set in 12 point on
a body of 14 point
cover photograph HMS Leander steaming on full power trial in the
IT IS THE INTENTION of this series to present aspects of New Zealand's
part in the Second World War which will not receive detailed treatment in the campaign
volumes and which are considered either worthy of special notice or typical of many
phases of our war experience. The series is illustrated with material which would otherwise
seldom see publication.
IN A CABLE MESSAGE dated It was not until Leander and Achilles were styled as HMNZ Ships.
On Achilles had departed for South America,
the
Before the end of the month the Leander was in sub-Antarctic waters on a cruise to Campbell
Island and the Auckland Islands, which were uninhabited and possible bases for enemy raiders.
Nothing suspicious was seen in either locality, but a heavy gale with poor visibility between the
rain squalls prevented a close examination of all the anchorages in the Auckland Islands. The
Leander returned there six weeks later and anchored in Carnley Harbour, several inlets of which
were visited by her boats. Port Ross and other anchorages were reconnoitred by the ship's aircraft,
but again no sign of any recent human activity was seen.
There is no doubt, however, that a German ship was lying in a remote anchorage in Carnley
Harbour at the time the Leander made her first visit to the Auckland Islands. This was the
Norddeutscher Lloyd steamer Erlangen, 6101 tons, which had sailed from
The Erlangen was ordered by radio from Erlangen put to sea again on 7 October and arrived in a
Chilean port thirty-five days later. She subsequently made her way into the Newcastle and scuttled by her crew.
ON Leander, commanded by Captain H. E. Horan, DSC, RN,2
left Dunera and
HMS Achilles having returned to
Five days later the Leander was at Umbria,
Grimsby,
scuttled herself in the outer anchorage. For the remainder of the month the Leander patrolled in
the southern area of the Leander adn two destroyers searched for and found the
submarine Evangelista TorricelliEvangelista Torricelli, 880–1230 tons displacement, eight 21-inch torpedo-tubes, two 3.9-inch guns, 17 knots (surface),
8½ knots (submerged); sister ship to Galileo Galilei, captured near Leander's aircraft
and well holed by her gunfire, was the fifth Italian submarine accounted for in the Leander and her destroyers
which were undamaged by near misses.
Control of the
THE PROTECTION of shipping along this ancient seaway was the monotonous but important
duty assigned to the New Zealand cruiser which, for nearly six months, was the senior ship
of the Leander,
in company with two sloops, met the first convoy from Leander
for a period of nearly five months, during which she steamed more than 30,000 miles in company
with slow convoys and averaged only five days a month in harbour
The southern part of the Leander's deck log ranged from 85 to 92
degrees. The continuous discomfort due to heat and humidity was aggravated from time to time
by fierce sandstorms at sea as well as in harbour.
The feeble activities of the Italian submarines were checked by the destruction of five and
the capture of a sixth during the latter part of June. Thereafter they gave little trouble, and their
only success against the ships escorted by the Leander was the sinking, on 6 September, of a thirty-
year-old Greek tanker which had straggled far behind Convoy BN 4. Italian aircraft were equally
unenterprising. They made infrequent hit-and-run raids on
A welcome break in the monotony came in the early hours of 21 October when Convoy BN 7
was passing east of the approaches to Massawa. HMS Auckland sighted and engaged two Italian
destroyers, HMAS
Francesco Nullo, 1058 tons displacement (standard), 35 knots, four 4.7-inch guns, four 21-inch torpedo-tubes.
The Leander was relieved by HMAS Hobart on 3 relieved Captain H. E. Horan in
command of the Leander at
By this time the British blockade was largely effective in preventing supplies reaching the
enemy in Italian Somaliland and Leander was ordered to carry out what was designated operation ‘Canned’. The object was to
demolish the factory and the wireless station at Leander arrived off the place
on the morning of 28 November, her aircraft bombed the wireless station, and after warning to
evacuate the canning factory had been given, the cruiser shelled it at a mean range of 4000 yards,
ninety-eight rounds from her 6-inch guns causing considerable damage and setting fire to the
buildings. Having recovered her aircraft after it had made a second attack on the wireless station,
the Leander proceeded to
An enjoyable spell of twenty-five days in that port while the ship was refitting was the first
real diversion for her crew since she left New Zealand seven months before. The Leander sailed
from
AT THIS TIME considerable anxiety was expressed by the Leander.
In response to the urgent personal representations of the First Lord of the Admiralty, however,
it was agreed that the New Zealand cruiser should remain on the East Indies Station. Actually,
though it could not be known at that time, the immediate danger in New Zealand waters was
past, both German raiders being on their way to the Leander took part, with three other
cruisers, in an unsuccessful hunt for a raider in the wide area between the Maldive Islands and
the Seychelles. She was to have better luck a month later.
After escorting the Aquitania, Mauretania, and
Ramb I, 3667 tons gross register, 17 knots. One of four sister ships built for the Italian Ministry for Regia
Azienda Monopole Banane) and employed in the banana trade to
Wireless direction-finding bearings indicated that enemy ships were in the vicinity of Saya
de Malha, a vast coralline bank lying some hundreds of miles south-east of the Seychelles Islands.
This area was, in fact, much frequented at that time by German raiders and their supply ships.
On 2 March the Leander met the Australian cruiser Canberra at sea and, in accordance with the
orders of the Commander-in-Chief, East Indies, they searched the area. In the afternoon of 4 March
From 10 to 20 March the Leander, Canberra, and armed merchant cruiser
Owned by Louis Dreyfus and Company,
A situation which for a time appeared very threatening to British interests had developed after
the Government of Leander,
which sailed from Colombo on 14 April and arrived off the mouth of the Shatt-el-Arab on the
18th, a few hours after the troopships from Leander on
29 April and the ship went to sea again the same day to take part in a search for the German raider
Pinguin.Pinguin, formerly Hansa liner Kandelfels, 7766 tons gross register. During her cruise of eleven months, this raider
captured or sank twenty-eight ships totalling 139,120 tons and laid mines in Australian waters causing the loss of
three ships of 17,790 tons. Aquitania
and
On Leander being sent to the Leander type of cruiser is essential to support our men in
Leander arrived at
Early in May, concurrently with the arrival in Leander took an active part in naval
operations in support of the army, bombarding enemy positions and engaging Vichy French
destroyers. Hostilities ceased at midnight of 11–12 July and the armistice agreement was signed
at Leander received orders to return to New Zealand. She sailed on 31 July and ended
an eventful cruise of sixteen months by escorting the Aquitania across the
FOR FOUR DAYS following the treacherous attack on HMNZS Leander was patrolling north of New Zealand. During
the second half of
At the beginning of HMAS Australia (flagship of Rear-Admiral J. G.
Crace, RN), USS
The American effort in the Admiral E. J. King, Commander-in-Chief, United States Navy, Our Navy at War.
The Anzac Squadron covered the passage of numerous convoys transporting troops and
material from the Leander, Achilles, and other ships being
detached for close-escort duty as requisite. During the first three months of the war in the Leander was at sea for seventy-two days and steamed 23,220 miles. Towards the end of April
The Leander and Achilles and three
On 28 May the Leander landed American troops and supplies on
The surprise assault landing of the United States Marines on
Neither the Leander nor the Achilles took part in any of the naval actions about
After a further period of escort duty, the Leander went to 4 formerly of the Achilles,
the
After a visit to HMNZS Leander
joined United States Task Group 36.1 off Savo Island on 11 July, taking the place of the light
cruiser Helena, which had been sunk in action against Japanese destroyers in Kula Gulf on 6 July.
The Task Group, which consisted of the cruisers Honolulu (flagship of Rear-Admiral W. L.
Ainsworth, USN),
Honolulu and
From the SUB-ANTARCTIC to the GULF OF ADEN
IN DOCK
at Auckland
THE TASK GROUP returned to Taylor,
Buchanan, Woodworth, Maury, Gwin, and Ralph Talbot.Taylor, destroyer, Gwin, Buchanan and Woodworth, Maury
and Ralph Talbot, 1500 tons, 36.5 knots, four 5-inch guns, eight torpedo-tubes.
After leaving Honolulu (flagship) leading
the
According to a captured Japanese document, the enemy force consisted of the light cruiser
Jintsu (flagship of an unnamed rear-admiral) and the destroyers Yukikaze, Hamakaze, Mikatsuki,
Kiyonami, and Yugure.Jintsu, 5900 tons, six 5.5-inch guns, eight 21-inch torpedo-tubes, 33 knots. Yukikaze, Hamakaze, and Kiyonami, 2000
tons, six 5-inch guns, eight 24-inch torpedo-tubes, 34 ½ knots. Yugure, Mikatsuki, four 4.7-inch guns, six 24-inch torpedo-tubes, 34 knots.Satsuki, Minatsuki, Matsukaze, and Yunagi. The latter ships, which were running
troops and supplies to Japanese positions at the head of Kula Gulf and which kept well over toward
the steep coastline of
It was a minute before one o'clock when the enemy ships began to appear on the American
radar screens. Four minutes later the van destroyers reported the enemy in sight at a distance of
16,500 yards. Steaming on almost reciprocal courses, the two forces were closing each other at
the rate of a mile a minute. At 1.9 a.m. Admiral Ainsworth ordered his destroyers to attack with
torpedoes, and there began another swift, fierce night action of the pattern common to the Solomon
Islands campaign. During the next ten minutes the leading destroyers discharged twenty-six
torpedoes and those in the rear, though badly bunched, got off twenty-five. The Leander fired
four from her starboard tubes, but these probably all passed south of the enemy.
The first torpedoes had barely started to run when the Jintsu, second ship in the enemy line,
exposed a searchlight on the leading American destroyers, opened fire, and discharged torpedoes.
Almost instantly she became a target for the rapid gunfire of the Honolulu, Leander, and
Immediately after the Inter-ship voice radio communication.Jintsu had opened fire, the destroyers Yukikaze, Hamakaze, Kiyonami,
and Yugure followed suit and, at a mean range of 6500 yards, discharged twenty-nine torpedoes,
all of which were of the 24-inch type, with warheads of 1200 lb. These were well on their way
when Rear-Admiral Ainsworth passed a signal to his ships by TBS radioLeander and was missed by all the rear destroyers except the Ralph Talbot.
All the ships were firing hard and the situation was complicated by the dense smoke from the
guns. It was seen through a gap in the smoke that the Honolulu had started to turn to port, and
as the initial formation was ‘port quarter line’, drastic action had to be taken by the
THE CRUISERS were badly bunched at the turn, and almost as soon as the Leander had
straightened up to follow the St. Louis on the new course, she was shaken severely by the
violent explosion of a torpedo which hit her on the port side amidships. The engines were at once
ordered to be stopped and the Leander was quickly left behind by the Honolulu and
At the time the Task Group was about to make its 180 degree turn, the patrolling Catalina
reported that four enemy destroyers had also made a radical alteration of course to port and were
retiring to the northward. The commander of the leading American destroyers was ordered to
pursue them. As a matter of fact, the latter had been scattered during the turning manoeuvre and,
The Honolulu and
At 2.5 a.m. the Honolulu fired star shells and a minute later gave the order to commence firing.
But before either cruiser could open fire, the tracks of torpedoes were seen approaching. Three
torpedoes passed close ahead of the
The Honolulu and
Between four and five hours later, enemy aircraft made three attempts to attack the returning
Task Group but were driven off by the ships’ gunfire and fighters from the Gwin began to settle and it was apparent that she could not be saved. Ten officers
and forty-four ratings, who were all that survived of her ship's company, were taken off and she
was sunk by torpedoes. She had lost sixty-seven officers and men in the action. The damaged
cruisers and their screening destroyers arrived at
The torpedo that struck the Leander blew a huge, jagged hole in her port side amidships and
exploded into No. 1 boiler-room, which was badly wrecked by the blast. All those on duty there
were killed. The hole was about twenty feet in depth from the lower deck level and thirty feet
in length, with distortion of armour and shell plating and frames extending more than fifty feet
fore and aft. There were bad cracks in the ship's side and in the lower deck, which was lifted
between three and four feet over the main damage area. The explosion threw up a great column
of water, most of which fell on the after part of the ship and swept several men overboard. Blast
from the explosion vented up a boiler-room fan casing and blew seven members of a 4-inch gun's
crew over the side. Unfortunately, the Leander, which was steaming at high speed when hit, had
travelled a considerable distance before it was known that the men had gone. The port quadruple
torpedo-tube mounting, situated about fifty feet abaft the seat of the explosion, was lifted bodily
aft for several feet, leaving the torpedoes lolling over the ship's side.
THE LEANDER took an immediate list of ten degrees to port. Main steam failed to the two
after engines (inner shafts) and electric power was cut off everywhere forward of No. 3 boiler-
room, plunging the ship into complete darkness and bringing all auxiliary machinery to a dead stop.
Very soon, steam was lost on the port forward engine, due to the enforced evacuation of No. 2
boiler-room because of the intense heat when the air supply fans were disabled by blast. The
ship had lost two-thirds of her 72,000 horse-power steaming capacity. The wrecking of the
electrical installation caused a complete cut-out of all communications, except the very limited
number of sound-powered telephones, and a total failure of all gunnery fire control and radio
equipment. The telephone battery was put out of action by a short circuit on its leads. Not only
had electric power failed, but the transmitting station, with its superhuman calculating machines
which correlated a dozen different sets of data at once for the control and accurate firing of the
guns, had been completely flooded and its operators compelled to leave the compartment. The
Leander was in no condition to renew the action had the enemy returned, and when daylight
came there was every likelihood of air attacks.
But the Leander, a fourth rate of fifty guns, commanded by Captain T. B.
Thompson, had fought gallantly in the Battle of the Vanguard, Sir Edward Berry. Four days after sailing, the Leander
fell in with and at once engaged the Genereux, a French ship of the line of eighty guns, whose
broadside fire was more than double and whose crew was treble that of the British ship. After
a fierce action lasting six and a half hours, the Leander was forced to surrender. She had repelled
several French attempts to board her. Her hull was badly shattered by gunfire and she could not
strike her colours as no mast was left standing. Ninety-two of her crew were killed or wounded.
The Genereux had suffered nearly 300 casualties. Captain Thompson, who lost a leg, was court-
martialled for the loss of his ship and knighted for his gallantry. The Leander's crest and her motto
‘Qui Patitur Vincit’ (Who Suffers Conquers) are derived from this famous action.
The light cruiser of Leander
spirit was unchanged, and her motto held good. Many of her ship's company of 600 were
‘hostilities only’ men, not long away from farm, factory, shop or office in New Zealand: for
not a few youngsters Leander was their first ship. But, in the words of her captain, ‘the conduct
and bearing of all hands during the action and during the trying passage back to harbour were
a source of extreme pride and gratification to me. All behaved like veterans. The curtailment of
Leander's part in the action was a bitter disappointment to me and everyone on board.’
It has been well said that ‘however perfect the machines, war in the last analysis is fought by
men whose nerves must remain steady to direct the machines, whose courage must remain high
when they as well as their machines are in danger, whose discipline and training must be such that
they work together’. Throughout that long day, officers and men of HMNZS Leander laboured
When some 600 square feet of her structure was blown open to the sea, five compartments
were completely flooded—the forward boiler-room, main switchboard room, forward dynamo
room, low-power room, and the transmitting station. Five fuel-oil tanks were wrecked and two
others badly contaminated with sea water. There were big leaks through a damaged bulkhead
into No. 2 boiler-room and the passage on the port side, as well as into the stokers’ mess-deck
through the splits in the ship's side and the deck above. Major damage had been done to auxiliary
machinery and steam, water, and fuel-oil pipe systems. It was found that the ship could steam at
slow speed on the two outer engines, taking steam from No. 3 boiler-room. A south-easterly
course was set to return to harbour and the Leander gradually worked up to 12 knots. Communication was established with the destroyers Radford and Jenkins, which had been detached by Rear-
Admiral Ainsworth to stand by the Leander and which acted as anti-submarine and anti-aircraft
screen during the passage to
When No. 2 boiler-room had to be evacuated because of the stoppage of the air supply fans,
it was not possible to close the stop valves of the main steam pipes because of the intense heat.
Acting Chief Engine-room Artificer Morris Buckley5 went back a few minutes later and at great
risk in the darkness and escaping steam succeeded in shutting down the valves. Led by Chief
Shipwright J. W. Stewart,6 a damage control party set about the establishment of a flooding
boundary. Working in almost total darkness and up to their waists in oil and water, they shored
up damaged bulkheads and hatches and plugged holes and cracks. The most immediate danger
was the imminent flooding of No. 2 boiler-room. Stoker Petty Officer A. Fickling7 and Leading
Stoker J. R. Haliday8 volunteered to re-enter the compartment and shore up the damaged bulkhead. Measures were then taken to pump out the boiler-room by means of two portable electric
pumps, with a capacity of sixty tons an hour, which kept the water level below the floor plates.
Commander S. W. Roskill9 had been injured on the leg and nearly swept overboard by the
explosion, but for some hours he directed the work of his damage control parties until incapacitated
by his wound. ‘The high standard of organisation and training shown by all hands was largely
due to his initiative and leadership’, said the captain's report. Regular drills, lectures, and demonstrations had made all officers and men ‘damage control conscious’, and it was for this reason
that in spite of severe casualties among the senior ratings of one party, correct action on their own
initiative was taken by the survivors. The general reaction was: ‘Well, it was just what we had
been told it would be like.’ A seaman boy, Mervyn Kelly,10 seventeen years of age, was employed
as the commander's messenger. He, too, had been blown over and injured by the explosion, but
he stuck gamely to his job, and during the period when all telephones were out of action he
carried many important verbal messages speedily and accurately. He neither mentioned nor
reported his injuries until long after daylight.
The port torpedo-tubes, which were about to be fired when the ship was hit, were dismounted
by the explosion and most of their crew became casualties. A young petty officer, Charles A.
Patchett,11 though badly shaken, immediately organised the survivors and the crew of the starboard
12 who had taken charge of all electrical
repair parties when he learned that the commissioned electrician and his staff had been killed in
the main switchboard compartment. When he heard that there were badly injured men on the
stokers’ mess-deck, Norman Craven,13 the youngest member of the sick berth staff, at once
volunteered to go there and assist the first aid parties. Under conditions requiring more than
ordinary courage, he attended to wounded men, showing much initiative and a sound knowledge
of his duties. Chief Petty Officer Telegraphist C. J. Rosbrook14 showed great organising and
technical ability in rapidly making good all breakdowns in the ship's wireless telegraphy system.
The first casualty arrived at the main dressing station six minutes after the explosion occurred,
and almost all the fifteen cases were treated there within the next ten minutes. The seriously
injured suffered mainly from a combination of multiple fractures of leg and ankle bones and the
effects of blast. All were standing up when they were injured, with the exception of a leading
stoker who was seated at a desk. Two ratings standing one on either side of him were killed
instantly. The behaviour and morale of the injured men was of a high order both during the action
and afterwards, and they were unselfish in their insistence that ‘we should treat the other fellow
first’, reported Surgeon Lieutenant-Commander E. S. McPhail.15 ‘They appeared to be far more concerned with the damage inflicted on the enemy than with their own condition and wounds.’
Electric current failed in the main dressing station and forward first aid post, and emergency
lighting had to be used until the repair parties restored power for the lights and sterilisers. The
sick berth staff and auxiliary medical parties worked for eighteen hours without a break. Being
in battle dress, all were continuously wet through as a result of perspiration from heat and lack
of ventilation, but liberal rations of saline tablets and well-sweetened lime juice helped to prevent
exhaustion. The condition of the wounded on their discharge to hospital was evidence of the
medical staff's sound work.
The customary preparations for feeding the ship's company had been made before the action and proved adequate under most trying and difficult conditions. Approximately three days’ normal supply of bread was already baked. Two sandwiches per man were prepared, coppers were filled with hot soup and cocoa, and a large tub of iced lime juice placed in the galley. The issue room was fully stocked with tinned foods, especially fruits, and emergency supplies were placed in the main store. No damage to galley or bakery was caused by the explosion, but no electric power, steam, or fuel-oil was available for cooking from the time of the action until the afternoon.
FOR EIGHTEEN HOURS the engineers and stokers laboured in heat and semi-darkness to
keep the ship afloat and steam her more than 200 miles back to harbour. Two-thirds of her
boiler power was damaged and out of service. The only two available boilers, all the main and
auxiliary machinery, and all the main and overflow feed water tanks were contaminated by salt
water and fuel-oil. It is essential to good steaming and the safety of the plant that the water used
to generate the high-pressure, superheated steam must be entirely free from salt and as pure as
it is possible to make it. Distilled water is used, losses are made good by evaporators, and frequent
tests are made in order to detect and quickly correct any salinity. But in the The carrying over of water spray with the steam from the boilers to the engines, with consequent danger of damage.Leander all the rules
of good steaming had been upset by the intricate and extensive damage to her vitals. The boiler
feed water quickly became contaminated with salt water and fuel-oil. This caused almost continuous ‘priming’
Terse but graphic was the account of his experiences written by a young stoker who was on duty in No. 3 boiler-room:
The supply fans roared to the demand for higher air pressure as the engine throttles were eased open for full speed. Stop! Full astern! Full ahead! Stokers whipped off oil sprayers, on sprayers; the ship heeled. Crash! Crash! Crash! Our boilers pulsated and roared. Furnace flames spat out with every salvo. Dull thuds around us. Bombs? No, enemy shells exploding in the sea, more likely. Loud speakers told us that our force had run into a Japanese cruiser and destroyer squadron. The ship quivered as the salvoes thundered. A crash—sudden darkness— the ship lurching and heeling over—an almost incredible silence. The water tenders flashed their emergency lights, the chief of the watch wrenched his fan throttle closed, the leading stoker slammed to a stop his oil-fuel pump as the needle of the steam-pressure gauge started to creep up. No safety valve lifted. An electrical repair party eventually gave some power and lights. Bilge water crept across the floor plates. Minutes seemed like hours. Steam and water cut through gland packings, showering us with a scalding spray. Water levels raced from high to low in the gauge glasses, the boilers primed, turbo fans ‘hunted’, the steam pressure danced from high to low. We swung on valves, nursed our pumps and watched salty feed water upsetting all the laws of steady steaming. With communication lines dead and in semi-darkness we did our best to give steam. Slow ahead! Two sprayers on each boiler, one on each, two, three on each, and so on, hour after hour, steam roaring through leaking glands and blow-down valves open. All day we flogged those boilers. Nightfall saw us safe in harbour, battered, torn, but not beaten.
American fighter aircraft gave cover to the Leander from daylight on 13 July until her arrival
in harbour. She was screened by the destroyers Radford and Jenkins, the latter being relieved by
the Taylor at 8 a.m. Two other destroyers joined the escort during the afternoon and the Leander
arrived in
The Leander spent a week in Stack and Lang,
she left on 21 July for Radford, arriving at Leander should then to go a Philomel to commemorate the thirty-three officers and ratings who had been killed
in action or had died in HMNZS Leander since
The Leander sailed from Leander and her escorts, thickly
coated with snow and ice, arrived at
During the next six weeks, drafts of officers and men left the Leander to go to England. On
Tyler and manned by ratings
from the Leander for the passage to the
HMNZS Leander finally paid off on Leander had upheld her noble motto and
the traditions of the four ships of that name who had preceded her in the
Built
In Leander sighted and engaged the
French ship of the line Pluton, 74 guns. After
a fierce action lasting two hours, though reduced to a wreck, three times set on fire, and
repeatedly attacked by boarders, she put the
Frenchman to flight.
In Leander was one of his squadron.
In Leander fought in the Battle of
the Genereux, 80 guns, by whom she was taken.
In Leander was taken from the
French by a Russian and Turkish force at the
capture of Corfu and was restored to
In Leander captured the French
48-gun ship Ville de Milan, together with the
latter's prize, the British 38-gun Cleopatra,
taken a week previously.
In Leander was sold out of the
service for £2100.
Built Leander took part in the expedition
under Lord Exmouth against the Dey of
Leander's
casualties were heavy, more than a quarter of
her ship's company of 500 being killed or
wounded. As a result of the bombardment
more than a thousand Christian slaves were
set free and the Dey was made to pay a
heavy indemnity.
Built Leander was stationed at Eupatoria to
prevent the Russians landing reinforcements.
The ship was converted to steam in
Built
Light cruiser of 7270 tons displacement and
72,000 horse-power, mounting eight 6-inch
and eight 4-inch guns and eight torpedo-tubes
tubes. Built at Devonport Dockyard and
engined by Vickers-Armstrong Ltd. Launched
in Achilles, Ajax, Neptune, and
The ship's motto is Qui Patitur Vincit (Who
Suffers Conquers). The crest consists of ‘An
arm in armour holding a lance proper between
two lotus flowers argent on wavelets or and
vert’.
1Vice-Admiral J. W. Rivett-Carnac, CB, CBE, DSC; born England, Leander and Commodore Commanding NZ Squadron, 1937–39;
captain HMS Rodney, 1941–43; promoted Rear-Admiral,
2Rear-Admiral H. E. Horan, DSC; born Barham, 1937–38; Chief of Naval Staff, New Zealand, 1938–40; captain HMS Leander,
3Captain R. H. Bevan, RN; born England, Leander, 1940–42; retired (ill-health) Collingwood (training establishment) 1943–45.
4Rear-Admiral C. A. L. Mansergh, CB, DSC, m.i.d., US Silver Star; born England, Achilles, 1942–43; HMNZS
5Chief Engine-room Artificer M. Buckley, m.i.d., RN; born Northwich, Cheshire, England, 3 Dec
6Chief Shipwright J. W. Stewart, DSM, RN; born Ardrossan,
7Stoker Petty Officer A. Fickling, DSM,
8Petty Officer Stoker Mechanician J. R. Haliday,
9Captain S. W. Roskill, DSC, RN; born England, Leander,
Oct 1943-Apr 1944; promoted captain
10Seaman Boy, 1st Class, M. A. Kelly; born Waimate,
11Petty Officer C. A. Patchett, m.i.d.,
12Chief Electrical Artificer W. R. J. Jones, DSM, RN; born Pretoria, South Africa,
13Sick Berth Attendant N. Craven, m.i.d.,
14Chief Petty Officer Telegraphist C. J. Rosbrook, m.i.d., RN; born
15Surgeon Captain E. S. McPhail, VRD, m.i.d., RNZNVR; born
THIS NARRATIVE is based on Admiralty documents, New Zealand naval records,
and Japanese official reports. The maps, ship silhouette, and badge were drawn by
L. D. McCormick from material contained in official sources. The photographs
come from various collections which are stated where they are known:
THE AUTHOR, Clipper Ship to Motor-liner and Ordeal
by Sea, and of Pamir: the story of a Sailing Ship. He served as a gunner in the
1st NZEF during the First World War.
the type used throughout the series is
Aldine Bembo
which was revived for mono-
type from a rare book printed by aldus
in 1495 * the text is set in 12 point on
a body of 14 point
cover photograph
THIS SERIES will be completed in 24 numbers, of which this is the 17th. It presents
detailed accounts of episodes characteristic of the fighting in the Second World War
and studies of certain aspects of New Zealand's war experience, illustrated with material
for which space will not otherwise be available. Binding cases for this series can be obtained
from booksellers.
This number deals with the services of New Zealand airmen in the defence of Malta,
vital to the success of our operations in the Mediterranean and Middle East. Other
numbers of this series dealing with the experiences of New Zealanders serving in the
RAF are Aircraft against U-Boat, Early Operations with Bomber Command,
and New Zealanders in the Battle of Britain. The research and preliminary narratives
for the full story have nearly been completed by a team of New Zealand Air Force officers
working in London. The first volume, written by Wing-Commander H. L. Thompson,
will be ready for publication this year.
The Assault on deals with one of the operations of the Royal New Zealand
Air Force. The history of the RNZAF, from its birth in
‘The key to our position in the whole
Mediterranean lay inMalta .’
ON A CLEAR DAY from the Grand Harbour of Three years of war in the Glorious was withdrawn with her squadrons of fighters to take part in
the Norwegian campaign. In the shadow of the airfields of
In the three eventful years that followed, during which the
On 1 a New Zealand officer in
the
Air Commodore Maynard's contribution to the new chapter in Glorious had left behind. On 19 April he formed
a fighter flight at Hal Far airfield, where three of these obsolete fighters were assembled, given
the names of ‘Faith’, ‘Hope’, and ‘Charity’, and flown by members of his personal staff and surplus
flying-boat pilots.
Regia Aeronautica was not slow to start. The island had its first air raid
at dawn, followed by seven more before nightfall and by forty-nine before the month ended.
Air Commodore Maynard also succeeded in retaining four Hurricanes which were in transit
through
One natural advantage was the island's pale limestone which was soft to work and yet hardened
quickly on exposure. The fact that it was an island of rock contributed largely to
For these first seven months of Italian attack 2 was a member, and formations of up to twenty
Italian Fiat fighters and
By October Italian plans in the Fliegerkorps X, was transferred from Illustrious limped back into the Grand Harbour after being heavily hit, and the period which
became known as the ‘Illustrious blitz’ had begun. But Malta stood firm, as it had against the
Italian Air Force. Its shipping offensive, however, practically ceased, while the
Air Vice-Marshal Maynard, In 3
THROUGHOUT the first half of 4 of No. 230 Squadron,
while making a sweep to cover a Fleet movement, was credited with damaging an Italian
submarine. Flight-Lieutenant H. L. M. Glover,5 who had returned to the Ark Royal
and led them back to 6 carried the Middle
East Army and Air Commanders-in-Chief, General Sir Archibald Wavell and Air Chief Marshal
Sir Arthur Longmore, from
At the end of April every available Sunderland was pressed into use to assist in the evacuation
of
On the same day, 25 April, Flight-Lieutenant H. W. Lamond7 was detailed to search for a
party in the Githeon area in
There was a further diversion in early July when Flying-Officer D. N. Milligan and Flight-
Lieutenant A. Frame were detailed to co-operate in the Syrian campaign, searching for fast Vichy
ships which were running the Allied blockade between the Very Important Persons
By 8 took off from Aboukir in Egypt for Kalafrana Bay. On
board also, as a passenger, was Pilot-Officer G. H. Easton,9 a Wellington-bomber pilot, who
had crashed on operations and was returning with his crew to
By midday the party found themselves on a rocky beach, which they estimated, accurately,
to be approximately 100 miles east of
In due course the party arrived at the
The end of this incident was equally remarkable. After walking for an hour, the Royal Air
Force party overtook some of the Italian Major's men. One of these ran over to the group,
drew his bayonet, propped it against a rock, and jumped on it until it snapped. There were
some two dozen Italians, each of whom threw away his rifle or handed it over and cheerfully
joined the procession. Similar incidents happened on four occasions, and after three hours the
company was more than a hundred and fifty strong. The British lines were soon reached, for
the
THE STORY of the air war in
There were two main enemy shipping routes, the new eastern route between The twin-engined Maryland aircraft from the 10 flew consistently in the Glenn-Martin Maryland aircraft
On 15 April Bloxam shadowed a convoy of five merchant vessels escorted by three destroyers
off the island of Pantelleria, north-west of
For its attacks on shipping the
On 18 August Pilot-Officer J. Buckley11 attacked a 9000-ton merchant ship which had run
aground off the island of Lampedusa as a result of an attack by Fleet Air Arm Swordfish aircraft.
A swarm of destroyers, torpedo-boats, and lighters were salvaging the deck cargo of motor
transport as the
Flying-Officer V. Allport12 of No. 18 Squadron sank a large Italian merchant vessel, and on
26 November Flight-Lieutenant E. G. Edmunds13 led six Blenheims of the same squadron on
a shipping sweep east of
As a result of combined air and naval action from Luftflotte II, from the
A FLYING-BOATSORTIE
THE Illustrious blitz by the
In the first three weeks of January 950 raiders came to
At the end of February, when the weather improved, Eagle brought them as far as the 14 made their
first take-off from an aircraft-carrier and flew to the island. The Luftwaffe made determined
15 led in as further
reinforcements No. 229 Squadron of Hurricane night fighters from
The February convoy had failed to get through to the island, but in March a combined operation by all Services, which demanded a feint attack by the land forces in North Africa and strategic
bombing by the
April was the cruellest month. An average of 170 bombers raided
The fighter pilots on the island appeared to be attempting the impossible. On 1 April Sergeant
Hesselyn, of No. 249 Squadron, flew in the afternoon detail. Four Spitfires were patrolling at
1000 feet when a Dornier flying-boat, with heavy fighter escort, was reported by the ground
controller to be flying into
One and a half hours later the Spitfire flight scrambled again. A large force of Stuka dive-
bombers was plotted on the ground radar screens. As the Spitfires climbed they were attacked
by some twenty Messerschmitts 109 and were forced down in broken formation to 1000 feet.
Hesselyn, with another pilot, escaped the attentions of the fighters and flew straight after the
Stukas through the curtain of anti-aircraft fire. He caught one Stuka The Stuka pilots made near-vertical dives from 15,000 feet and released their bombs at 5000 feet. As a pilot pressed
the bomb-release, an automatic device took control of the aircraft to pull it abruptly out of its dive, for this manoeuvre
was usually so violent that both pilot and rear-gunner blacked out; at this point the Stuka became momentarily
defenceless.
The beleaguered garrison received new heart on 20 April, when forty-seven Spitfires flew
in from the Wasp. They had been despatched from the carrier
by Wing-Commander J. S. McLean,16 a former Battle of McLean made the new Spitfire arrangements work smoothly and successfully. Within twenty minutes of the Spitfires' landing at Ta Kali, they were dive-bombed by
ninety German aircraft. The runway was virtually blotted out, but by first light the next morning
determined Army reinforcements working with oil lamps and in the light of burning aircraft
and petrol bowsers had cleared and rolled the runway. A total of twenty-seven aircraft was all
that could be mustered, and after the day's fighting only seventeen remained serviceable. One
of the new pilots from USS Wasp, Sergeant J. D. Rae,17, was shot down two days after his arrival;
he returned to flying, although the shrapnel wound in his arm was not properly healed, and
was soon to rank among
As April ended the position was desperate. Anti-aircraft ammunition needed to be carefully rationed, while the pilots were showing signs of ‘cracking’ under the immense strain. Captured German bomber pilots, who had been making three sorties a day, four days a week, were confident that the air battle was over, for they no longer needed fighter protection.
Kesselring believed he had achieved his object. During April Malta's striking power had been
neutralised and supplies run through to the
General Student, who had commanded the airborne invasion of
The island therefore had an essential, if fortuitous, respite. The arrival of a second heavy
Spitfire reinforcement on 18 May was the climax of 18 led No. 185 Hurricane Squadron with increasing success,
while Sergeant R. B. Hesselyn was again among the top-scoring Spitfire pilots, being credited
with five enemy aircraft destroyed and one damaged within five days. At long last the Royal
19 destroyed one Italian Fiat heavy bomber and probably
destroyed another in the same sortie.
The supply situation was still critical, since the passage of the Narrow Seas remained closed
except to essential supplies of petrol and torpedoes which came in by submarine. In June a
convoy of eleven ships was turned back to 20 flying the specially-stripped photographic Spitfires of No. 69
Squadron, whose flight he later commanded, made frequent sorties over the 21 of No. 221 Squadron, patrolled in a radar-equipped
Wellington outside
As July opened 22 was credited with two Messerschmitts destroyed
in each of two sorties. When the
NOW that 23 Air Vice-Marshal Park's principal war experience had been in directing fighter operations, and he was to change drastically the functions
of
The most significant tactical feature of the operations which now began, and which were a
necessary prelude to the 24 and Flight-Sergeant A. G. Metcalf,25 flew tirelessly over the
Radar-equipped Wellingtons, loaded with parachute flares, patrolled the shipping lanes for up to ten hours throughout the night. Sighting reports were sent to base, and a striking force of torpedo-Wellingtons was homed on to the target convoy by continual position signals and by direction-finding radio. The search-Wellingtons, popularly known as ‘Snoopingtons’, promptly dropped parachute flares in an L-shaped pattern around the convoy from 4000 feet, utilising any moon path on the sea as well, so that the whole convoy might be trapped in a rectangle of light and the dispositions of the escorting destroyers clearly picked out. Meanwhile the strike-Wellingtons, or ‘Torpingtons’, attacked at sea level, making their runs so that the enemy merchant vessels were silhouetted against the flares. The torpedoes had to be dropped at approximately seventy feet above sea level, and on dark nights pilots sometimes flew into the sea. Radio-altimeters and some curious forms of torpedo-sights were later refinements, but pilots generally relied on their own judgment.
The night offensive on shipping exceeded all expectations. In the first two squadrons, Nos. 38
and 221, there were twenty New Zealanders during this period; the latter squadron had been
quickly switched from the very different climate of
The squadrons were accordingly based in Egypt and used 26 of No. 221 Squadron, specialised in search work, and on 31 October when
operating from Gianaclis he made a dusk reconnaissance off the coast between
On the night of 17 September a sighting report was received at 10 p.m. of three merchant
vessels and twelve destroyers north-west of 27 made his attack, releasing both torpedoes
on the same run against a 4000-ton merchant vessel. He was subjected to intense anti-aircraft
fire from that ship, and being busy with evasive action saw no results. Sergeant A. G. Metcalf
was one of the last to attack; he selected a 3000-ton merchant vessel and saw two explosions.
Again there was intense fire and the aircraft was punished severely. The wireless equipment
became inoperative, the main fuse box being blown off. The navigator was wounded in the
leg, and Flight-Sergeant J. D. C. Cumming,28 the wireless operator, received severe flesh wounds
in both arms and a thigh. The Wellington, however, continued to fly, and when Metcalf had
set course for base he dressed Cumming's wounds. The latter was able to make temporary repairs
to the wireless, and having sent out an SOS signal, he assisted the wounded observer to navigate
back to base. Once they had got over the airfield it was discovered that one wing was damaged
and only one undercarriage wheel could be lowered, but a safe landing was made.
As the 29
attacked an enemy merchant vessel of 4000 tons, escorted by a destroyer, which he found illuminated off the north coast of 30 had an exceptional fortnight.
On the night of
In conjunction with the Wellington night attacks, the daylight strikes by Beaufort torpedo-
bombers from 31 flew twenty-three sorties as wireless
operator-air gunner from
Out of these gallant Beaufort attacks came a unique event in the air war in which two New
Zealand wireless operator-gunners took full share. On 32
and J. A. Wilkinson33 flew with their South African pilot and English navigator in an attack
on one merchant vessel and two destroyers off Sapienza in Southern Greece. The pilot, Lieutenant
E. T. Strever, fired his torpedoes at short range at the merchant vessel, since that was invariably
the prime target, but his aircraft was badly hit in the starboard engine, which eventually failed,
forcing him to land in the sea. Although the Beaufort sank within ninety seconds, the crew
were able to climb into their dinghy and paddle towards the coast. Presently an Italian Cant Z506
float-plane alighted about 100 yards away. The South African lieutenant swam over to it, and
was courteously received with brandy and cigarettes as he explained in pantomime what had
happened. The rest of the crew were taken aboard, and the three-engined float-plane taxied
laboriously to a nearby island. Here they were given the use of the officers' mess for the rest
of the day and were treated to an excellent dinner and a lively party in the evening. In the morning
photographs were taken and the Cant set course for
But the crew was now faced with the difficulty of flying a strange three-engined aircraft,
besides being without maps or charts and having little knowledge of their geographical position.
The Italian second-pilot was put in the pilot's seat and a rough course set for
But this was merely light relief to the unceasing attack which
THE CONTINUED success of
When Air Vice-Marshal Park took over, the island's petrol and food supplies were still critical,
and its eleven squadrons, which included five fighter squadrons, were tired after the long blitz
they had sustained. But a total of ninety Spitfires represented comparative strength, and some
battle-weary personnel could be relieved. Park quickly changed the defensive tactics of this fighter
force. A Special Order of the Day announced his new policy of forward interception: aided by
improved radio-location methods, the Spitfire squadrons swept northwards to break up the enemy
formations before they could approach Eagle, an old and trusted friend of Ohio limped into the Grand Harbour under Spitfire cover and ten weeks' fuel was added
to the island's four weeks' stock.
The last blitz on
Sergeant J. F. P. Yeatman,34 who had volunteered for service in
I considered they had not seen me, so dived on the straggler, opened fire from 200-250 yards
and observed strikes on the starboard wing. The Messerschmitt turned on its back and dived
down in the direction of
Sergeant N. M. Park35 on 12 October flew in a dawn patrol of three Spitfires of No. 126
Squadron which made a head-on attack on a formation of seven Junkers 88 bombers. He shot
down one and, despite the efforts of escorting German and Italian fighters, turned and destroyed
a second. On the midday patrol he claimed another bomber as damaged. In a similar patrol
two days later, Sergeant Park probably destroyed one Messerschmitt fighter and damaged one
Junkers 88, while Sergeant R. B. Hendry36 claimed one fighter destroyed. In the afternoon
sortie Park reported:
We were patrolling at 21,000 feet, 20 miles north-east of Grand Harbour, when we sighted nine Junkers 88 with a swarm of fighters heading south. We turned into the attack, Red 1 and myself going into the bombers. I got on one bomber's tail, but my guns had frozen so I broke away, and after shaking off two attacking Messerschmitts 109, I dived away down to 10,000 feet. On hearing the Ground Controller broadcast the height and position of the bombers, I went east to Kalafrana Bay, where the bombers were seen heading back to the north-east. I tried to intercept them, but was jumped by two Me109s. I turned quickly to avoid, and after a complete turn got on a Messerschmitt's tail. I closed in without opening fire to about 100 yards, when he changed his turn and I gave him a three-second burst from dead astern. He went into a steep dive straight into the sea. I circled the spot but there was no sign of the pilot. I claim one Messerschmitt 109 destroyed.
Sergeant Park's total over this short period of intensive fighting was three Junkers 88 and
two Messerschmitts 109 destroyed and one Junkers 88 probably destroyed—by the end of the
month his score at
By November, therefore, Air Vice-Marshal Sir Keith Park Air Vice-Marshal Park was knighted in recognition of his command at
During this month, therefore, the Allied forces in the
Sergeant J. A. Houlton,37 of No. 185 Squadron, flew in a section of four Spitbombers with
fighter escort which bombed Gela airfield in
Three New Zealand pilots scored an unusual success on 14 November. Five Spitfires of
38 caught an Italian Fiat BR20 bomber
at sea level and made a simultaneous attack; white smoke came from both engines, and the aircraft immediately plunged into the sea, where it exploded in a sheet of flame. Fifteen minutes
later the formation intercepted an aerial train of some thirty-five transports, flying at sea level
and escorted by long-range German fighters. Sergeant J. E. Mortimer39 was engaged by one
of the Messerschmitt 110 fighters, but he eventually drove it off with black smoke pouring from
its starboard engine. Hendry saw a large four-engined Junkers 90 detach itself from the main
body of the transports and climb slowly toward the safety of cloud cover; he overtook it and
was able to fire a burst just as it disappeared. Climbing through the ceiling of cloud, Hendry
picked out the ponderous shape of the Junkers 90 passing below him through breaks in the cloud.
He used all his cannon shells against it, scoring strikes on the starboard wing, which began to
trail black smoke, and he last saw it steadily losing height. Among them the three pilots claimed
one enemy aircraft destroyed and two damaged.
Hence, as the vital year of
THE AUTHOR,
1Air Vice-Marshal F. H. M. Maynard, CB, AFC, Legion of Merit (US);
2Squadron-Leader R. J. Hyde, AFC, m.i.d.;
3Air Marshal Sir Hugh, Lloyd, KBE, CB, MC, DFC, Legion of Merit (US); AOC RAF, Mediterranean, 1 Jun 1941–15 Jul 1942; C-in-C, Air Command,
4Squadron-Leader D. N. Milligan, DFC; born
5Flight-Lieutenant H. L. M. Glover; British Overseas Airways Corporation; born Dunedin; joined
6Wing-Commander A. Frame, DFC;
7Squadron-Leader H. W. Lamond, DFC (Greek); British Air Forces of Occupation,
8Wing-Commander S. W. R. Hughes, OBE, AFC, DFC (Greek);
9Flight-Lieutenant G. H. Easton; BOAC; England; born
10Wing-Commander J. R. Bloxam, OBE, DFC;
11Squadron-Leader J. Buckley, DFC;
12Squadron-Leader V. Allport, DFC; born
13Flight-Lieutenant E. G. Edmunds, DFC; born
14Flight-Lieutenant R. B. Hesselyn, MBE, DFC, DFM and bar;
15Wing-Commander D. Kain; Raglan; born
16Wing-Commander J. S. McLean, OBE, DFC;
17Flight-Lieutenant J. D. Rae, DFC and bar;
18Squadron-Leader K. A. Lawrence, DFC; RNZAF Station,
19Flight-Lieutenant G. McL. Hayton, DFC; born
20Flight-Lieutenant H. G. Coldbeck, DFC;
21Wing-Commander A. H. Harding, DFC; RNZAF Station,
22Flight-Lieutenant G. Stenborg, DFC; born
23Air Chief Marshal Sir Keith R. park, GCB, KBE, MC and bar, DFC, Croix dc Guerre;
24Wiag-Commander M. J. Earle; born
25Flying-Officer A. G. Metcalf, DFM; born Bradford, England,
26Flight-Lieutenant J. S. Frame, DFC;
27Warrant-Officer T. D. Rusbatch;
28Flying-Officer J. D. C. Cumming, DFM;
29Flight-Sergeant W. Hornung, DFM; born
30Flight-Lieutenant W. A. Fraser, DFC, DFM;
31Flying-Officer J. H. Low, DFC; born Bluff,
32Warrant-Officer A. R. Brown, DFM;
33Flight-Lieutenant J. A. Wilkinson, DFM; Pukekawa,
34Flight-Lieutenant J. F. P. Yeatman, DFC;
35Pilot-Officer N. M. Park, DFM; born
36Flight-Lieutenant R. B. Hendry, DFC;
37Flight-Lieutenant J. A. Houlton, DFC; Woodend; born
38Flight-Lieutenant D. A. Piggott;
39Flight-Lieutenant J. E. Mortimer, DFC;
The rank given is the highest attained by each airman during his wartime service and the occupations are those engaged in on enlistment.
THE NARRATIVE was compiled from
J. R. Bloxam Cover, page 17 (bottom, page 19 (bottom)
F. H. M. Maynard page 13, (bottom left)
S. W. R. Hughes page 14
cover photograph The South-east face of
THE BATTLE OF ENFIDAVILLE was the last major operation in which
2 NZ Division was engaged in Africa, and the struggle for Takrouna was the most
severe phase of that battle. It came at the end of a severe ten months' campaign, when
the Division was at the peak of its efficiency as a fighting machine but signs of strain
were beginning to appear. None of the troops engaged had taken part in fewer than two
battles, Medenine and Tebaga Gap, and the great majority in many more.
The responsibilities of leaders at all grades were consequently greatly increased, and
this account shows how they were discharged. There were few actions in which junior
commanders, down to privates commanding sections, were required and able to play such
important and decisive parts. There was more manoeuvre in this action than usually
occurs in a set-piece affair and some interesting examples of the use of reserves and of
artillery.
The services of New Zealand troops in Africa will be related in part of a volume dealing
with the events of 1939–41, including the Greece Campaign, and in three volumes
dealing respectively with Libya
This is the 18th of a series of 24 detailed accounts of episodes characteristic of the
fighting in the three Services during the Second World War and studies of certain aspects
of New Zealand's war experience. It is intended to be supplementary to the campaign
volumes.
Binding cases for this series can be obtained from booksellers.
‘L'homme est l'instrument premier du combat.’
ON
For the attack on 20 April, General Montgomery decided to strike directly into a series of
precipitous ridges and spurs that overlooked
The New Zealand Division, which had 8 British Armoured Brigade under command, was
already in action to the south and west of 1), which in addition had to contend with Wadi el Brek, a deep, twisting wadi winding
down from the hills. Farther left were 2
Along the whole divisional front, in the forward positions held by the infantry before the attack, was a wet-bottomed wadi with many tributaries. Crossings were made over this wadi by the engineers during the nights before the infantry advanced. Between the wadi and the olives green barley grew knee high in unfenced fields.
Every effort was made to keep the plan as simple as possible, although complications could
not be avoided on the left sector. The start line was to be taped just to the north of the wadi
in the forward positions, and on this line the battalions would form up with coloured lights,
shaded and on pickets, marking the boundaries between them. The axis of advance was at right-
angles to the start line, and as the direction of the attack was almost from south to north it was
hoped that the infantry would keep direction by the Pole Star, which would be straight ahead.
The objectives were to be reached in two stages: in the first stage 6 Brigade would capture Ogla
and surrounding country with two battalions, and 5 Brigade would advance to the road with a
battalion on either side of
A regiment of tanks was attached to each brigade, and from these, troops (three tanks in each) were detached to support the engineering parties that were to clear tracks for the supporting arms through the minefields known to cover the enemy positions, and one troop was attached to 28 (Maori) Battalion to crush passages through the cactus in its area.
Such was the plan in outline. Little was known of the enemy dispositions, other than the
general appreciation that the main defences lay to the north of
Of the two 5 Brigade battalions that would take part in the first phase, 28 (Maori) Battalion,
commanded by Lieutenant-Colonel C. M. Bennett,3 was to advance on the east side of 4 on the west side.
23 Battalion, commanded by Lieutenant-Colonel R. E. Romans,5 was to capture Djebel
Froukr. The Brigade Commander made it quite clear that this battalion was to fight for its start
line beyond the
Zero hour was an hour before midnight on 19 April.
PRECISELY at zero hour gun flashes sparked and flickered behind the infantry on the start line. The soft whish-whish of the first shells rose to an angry, jagged muttering, while the staccato cracks of the nearest guns were lost in the exhilarating pandemonium of the barrage. The battalions began to move forward.
On the right of 5 Brigade,
On the right of the battalion, A Company (Major W. Porter6) reached the south side of
In the centre, C Company (Captain W. M. Awarau7) was halted in the valley between Bir
and 8 found that he was the only officer not a casualty. He left instructions for the
other platoons to follow and tried to push on with his own platoon, but soon realised, when
the men with him had dwindled to three, that further advance in the centre was impossible.
On the left, B Company (Captain C. Sorenson9) after hacking its way through the cactus
hedges with machetes, got as far as the south-eastern end of
Headquarters 10 his Intelligence Officer, across to B Company to
find out the cause of the delay. When word of B Company's plight was brought back, Bennett
at once sent orders to the Company Commander to push round to the east of the enemy positions
holding him up, to join C Company, and to advance with that company to the road.
While Wikiriwhi was taking these instructions to B Company, Bennett went in search of C Company, elements of which, without officers, he found farther up the valley. He did not get as far north as Haig, but told the C Company men that they were to stay where they were, that Haig was to take command, and that the advance was to be carried on to the road when B Company joined them. Haig was probably the last man to hear of these orders, for he was trying to reach the road with his platoon and was expecting the rest of C Company to join him.
Colonel Bennett could judge by the amount of firing that B Company was still held up to
the south of
Soon after this all control within
From B Company two platoons, commanded by Second-Lieutenant W. P. Anaru11 and
Sergeant T. Trainor,12 skirted the eastern slopes of
The third platoon from B Company, now commanded by Sergeant J. Rogers,13 stayed in
the wadi to the south-east of
Meanwhile D Company (Captain P. F. Te H. Ornberg14), which had had the original task
of mopping up but which had concentrated on the CO's instructions to help B Company get
past the south-east corner of
Out to the right, 6 NZ Brigade had all but reached its final objective after a relatively easy advance opposed only by defensive fire. The brigade was being reorganised and by the morning would be in a sound position.
On the left of
This withdrawal had followed an extremely difficult and costly advance. 21 Battalion had left the start line with three companies forward and two platoons of the remaining company following in reserve. The third platoon of this company had been left on Point 121, ready to form the pivot of the gunline that was to cover the west flank of 5 Brigade during the second phase of the operation. Colonel Harding moved with his headquarters between the leading and reserve companies.
Advancing on the right of the battalion, C Company (Major B. M. Laird15) had soon run
into the heavy fire that covered all approaches to 16 commanding 15 Platoon on the right, had been able to get his men through to the immediate platoon
objective to the west of 17) had forced its way to an oval-shaped patch of prickly
pear on the west slopes of 18 who commanded 14 Platoon in reserve, attempted to reform the men and find a way to overcome the
machine-gun posts that were holding up the advance. The Company Commander had already
made unsuccessful attempts to get forward and had returned to Headquarters 5 Brigade with sections from both 13 and 14 Platoons. The remainder of C Company joined Battalion Headquarters.
The other two forward companies had been more successful. A Company (Captain G. A. H.
Bullock-Douglas19) in the centre and B Company (Captain W. J. G. Roach20) on the left had
each left the start line with two platoons forward, followed by Company Headquarters and the
Once at the road it was soon clear that the enemy held a dominating ridge immediately to
the north. From A Company Lieutenant J. C. Chalmers,21 commanding 8 Platoon, went off
to the right to find out if the Maoris had got through to the road on the other side of 22 organised 7 Platoon for an attack on the ridge, leaving the
two sections of 8 Platoon on the south side of the road. Steiner found that the enemy was firmly
entrenched in deep weapon pits on the ridge, but a determined attack with tommy guns and
hand grenades soon gave some degree of success. Five machine-gun posts were destroyed and
opposition had slackened when Steiner realised that only two other men besides himself were
left standing. There was only one thing to do—the men went back to the road. Chalmers had
returned to the roadside also, without having seen or heard
During this period 12 and 11 Platoons of B Company had, together, been attacking the
western end of the same ridge across the road that Steiner had attacked. The platoon commanders,
Lieutenants R. Donaldson23 and G. M. Taylor,24 led the men through mortar and small-arms
fire to the bottom of the ridge. Here hand grenades, tossed by the enemy from pits and trenches,
killed and wounded many but did not break up the attack. Shooting and stabbing, the platoons
fought on up the ridge. A typical exploit was that of Private A. T. Luxford,25 who took command
of a section when its NCOs had been wounded. Led by this determined soldier the section captured
a 50-millimetre anti-tank gun, two machine-gun posts, and a mortar pit. When the whole section
except himself had been struck down, Luxford battled on until his own ammunition, and any
he could pick up, was exhausted and he himself wounded. Farther up the ridge Sergeant L. N.
Parris,26 who had led another group, found that the area had been cleared but that he had only
four men left capable of moving. Parris set up a machine-gun post in a captured pit, but when
it seemed that the enemy was going to counter-attack and that no support was available, he
returned to the road with the few survivors. Weeks later the graves of Donaldson and Taylor,
with those of many of their men, were found on the ridge where they had died fighting.
Meanwhile the rest of 21 Battalion had been stopped farther back. Both rear platoons of
A and B Companies, cut off from the forward platoons, had unsuccessfully tried to get to the
road through the now very severe fire from 27 disappeared on what must have been a determined effort to reach the east side
28), in reserve, had suffered casualties
from mortar and artillery fire, and had been put between Headquarters and
The Battalion Commander could see that the south-west and west slopes of
However, before this runner arrived (about 2 a.m.)
Little to go on, but enough for a decision that would put the Brigade at least in a position
to hold on to what it had won.
On the battlefield Colonel Harding, after conferring with such officers as had returned to his headquarters, ordered the forward companies to pull back to their original assembly positions if contact was not made with 28 or 23 Battalions before dawn. Such withdrawal was eventually made.
There remained the east side of
23 Battalion had moved up behind 29
took command, assuring his CO that he would carry out the Brigade Commander's instruction
that the battalion would fight for its start line.
Calling on B and D Companies, which were leading, and giving orders that the remainder
were to follow, Thomas got the men moving, firing to the front and shouting loudly. Lieutenant
Haig of C Company,
But the method worked. Advancing in bounds of about 200 yards, going to ground together
to fire concentrated bursts on machine-gun positions on Bir and
By this time both B and D Companies were much reduced in strength, and despite repeated
shouts to C and A Companies to come up, probably not heard in the commotion, the two rear
companies had not followed. Thomas, after a quick check, found himself with 17 men in D Company and 20 in B Company. He decided not to wait but sent back the Intelligence Officer,
Lieutenant A. F. Bailey,30 to bring the other companies forward.
Lieutenant A. S. Robins,31 himself slightly wounded, who had taken command of B Company
when Captain S. Wilson32 was wounded, was ordered to take the eastern slopes of Cherachir,
while Captain H. C. Black33 was to take the western end of the same feature with D Company.
The shouting and yelling that Thomas had encouraged during the advance through the valley, partly to discourage the enemy, partly to keep up the spirits of the men, had died down. The crash of exploding shells, the sharper crunch of mortar bombs, the quick chatter of machine guns, and the sudden burst of light from a flare showing clearly the outline of the ridge ahead, were sufficient evidence that grim work remained.
Robins posted two Brens to cover his advance, and in complete silence led his company
towards an abrupt gully running up the east end of Cherachir. Two parties of Germans fell
back before the company, pausing at intervals to fire at the advancing men. The Brens, firing
at the flashes, gave the enemy little chance for damaging fire, and there was no delay. The gully
was very steep, rough and stony, but although it was clear that the enemy held entrenched positions
on the crest the advance was not observed, despite flares and mortars fired right over the heads
of the attackers. Once on the crest the main points of resistance were located farther along the
ridge to the west, and to the east from the two parties of retreating Germans. Fortunately
D Company claimed the attention of the position to the west, and the ‘mobile’ Germans were
D Company had met greater opposition and had lost several men, including Captain Black
—last seen rushing forward revolver in hand and found killed many days later—but had finally
stormed the crest of Cherachir. All officers in the company had become casualties: Sergeant
F. J. Muir34 commanded a platoon, then assumed the duties of CSM, and finally added a second
platoon to his command, organising several short bayonet charges. Corporal W. S. Smellie35
commanded the third platoon for the last stage of the battle.
As had been the case with B Company on the eastern end of Cherachir, the men of D Company were forced to take cover from enemy shelling just below the crest of the ridge. They stayed there in one organised party for the rest of the night, with enemy troops occupying the northern slopes. Occasional enemy grenades were still being thrown over the crest at daybreak.
Meanwhile Thomas was organising the rest of the battalion as it arrived. For a while the
situation possessed all the elements of a comic opera. The Germans were calling out to each
other from Bir, 36 was instructed to tell them in German
to call out to their companions to surrender. This was done without result.
The situation gradually sorted itself out. Captain C. A. Slee37 came up with one platoon
(Lieutenant H. Montgomery38) from C Company and went back to find the rest of his men,
while the platoon cleaned out some remaining enemy positions on the south-east end of Cherachir.
D Company,
Other elements of 23 Battalion, collected by Lieutenant A. C. Marett39 from the confusion
still present in the valley, together with small parties from
WHEN two platoons from B Company, 40 These
two decided that their small force should be divided into two parties. Rogers would take one
party up the south-east side of 41 forward
observation officer from 42 a stray from
23 Battalion. Smith attached himself to Rogers' party, a very valuable addition. Catchpole
encouraged the Maoris to carry on and set to work to establish communications with his headquarters.
At dawn the two parties started their attack. Enemy fire of all types was still heavy, and a hail
of mortar bombs sent the men running for shelter from rock to rock. But they ran forward
and were soon among enemy positions. Rogers' party got to work with rifles, while Smith and
Private K. Aranui43 gained a ledge overlooking the trenches. More men from both parties were
soon battling at close quarters against Italians in deep fighting pits, protected by screens of barbed
wire hung with rattlers and other warning devices. Hand grenades, Bren guns, and bayonets
were used and several weapon pits were silenced in turn. Some men broke right through, and
from half-way up the hill soon convinced the enemy that they now had the upper hand. White
flags appeared in quick succession from the defences circling the base of 44
Manahi took three men up a bare ridge that ended abruptly at a sheer rock face topped by stone buildings—the ledge. There was no opposition, a strange fact soon explained by Smith and Aranui. These two had already reached the rock face, up which they scrambled with the aid of a cluster of telephone cables running to the now surrendered enemy positions below. They were confronted by a high stone wall. The cables again proved useful, and the two looked down into a small courtyard where a solitary German soldier operated a wireless set. Aranui leapt down and took him prisoner, and while he was being sent off down the hill an officer called out in English, offering to surrender, from a room opening off the courtyard. He was an artillery observation officer and had been observing from a window that covered the whole divisional front.
There followed one of those strange interludes of war. The officer surrendered to Smith,
they smoked together, and the officer went off into captivity. More of the attackers arrived,
and the whole area was explored. The men were on a narrow rock ledge, almost covered by
a row of stone buildings. Smith saw an Italian ducking through the buildings and gave chase.
The Italian eluded him, but Smith carried on up a flight of rough-hewn steps to find himself on
the pinnacle. The steps had led up one of four rock faces enclosing an uneven platform from
which rose stone buildings in a haphazard maze. Paths zigzagged through the buildings. Smith
went through to the north side and saw, immediately below him, an untidy huddle of houses—the
village of
Neither on ledge or pinnacle had there been any enemy interference; they had evidently
relied on the defences at the foot of
Meanwhile Rogers and Manahi had decided that the best method of defending the pinnacle and ledge, for they expected an immediate counter-attack, would be to bar all access from the village. They blocked with a boulder the mouth of a tunnel bored through the rock to the bottom of the face enclosing the pinnacle, and Manahi himself occupied an Italian weapon pit overlooking the flight of crude stone steps that gave on to the path connecting pinnacle with ledge, continuing on below the rock face on the west side of the pinnacle to the village. Other Maoris, together with some stragglers from 23 Battalion whom Manahi called up the hill, were placed in various vantage points covering the village itself and a steep wadi on the west side. By now it was mid-morning on 20 April.
During this period the only link with the actual field of battle and Headquarters 5 Brigade,
since the withdrawal of 21 Battalion, had been the wireless set with the 23 Battalion Adjutant,
Captain A. Ross,45 from a wadi between Bir and
The two 6 Brigade battalions were well dug in with supporting arms up and communications
established, and Brigadier Gentry was confident that they could resist any counter-attack. At
dawn 46
At this stage Lieutenant Wikiriwhi, who had taken the triple role of commanding officer,
adjutant, and intelligence officer of 47 who, supported by two tanks at long range, had, quite alone, moved up
At ten o'clock word was brought back from 23 Battalion on Cherachir. The Intelligence
Officer, after a hazardous trip through the valley between Bir and
With this information it was only a matter of minutes before an artillery programme was
under way to the loudly expressed gratification of Thomas and his men. The tanks were given
renewed instructions to push on to Cherachir, a difficult task owing to the many mines, and the
supporting arms were told to get through. These latter could not move far, for no soft-skinned
vehicles could survive the shellfire, and machine guns, anti-tank guns, and carriers had to give
up after several unsuccessful attempts. The tanks eventually reached the
By this time artillery observation officers, among them Captain J. C. Muirhead48 from
During the afternoon
Little more could be done. The attack as a whole had not reached the planned objectives,
as 4 Indian Division, after a particularly bitter fight, had not managed to capture its first objective
and had been left in a similar position to that of 5 NZ Brigade. Obviously nothing further
was possible in the meantime: it remained to tidy up the existing positions, and at all costs, with
the artillery exposed in the open plain, to hold
Meanwhile the small party on 49
so worried the crew of two captured 25-pounder guns with Bren fire from the dome of the mosque
that they unsuccessfully attempted to withdraw from their positions on the northern slopes
beyond the village. Private W. Takurua50 fired all the ammunition he could find for an enemy
2-inch mortar slap into the village, and followed this up with a box of Italian stick grenades.
All were busy.
In such a restricted area the men on
Manahi managed to find C Company, 51 and was told to take his men up and to hold
on at all costs. Catchpole said, although he did not know it at the time, that reinforcements
were on the way and that any artillery programme would be stopped. This was a critical moment.
Manahi went on. Again men were posted to cover all approaches to ledge and pinnacle.
The relieving platoon from 21 Battalion arrived under Lieutenant Shaw at 3.30 p.m., and
while the relief was taking place the long-expected counter-attack was launched. A pause in
the shelling had been followed by the approach of a group of Italians coming directly
from the village along the bottom of the face below the pinnacle. The ensuing struggle was
bitter and ferocious. Manahi and Corporal J. P. Bell52 dealt with a few who had broken through
to the steps, mowing them down with machine-gun fire. Other Italians made more progress,
forced a way on to the ledge and thoroughly aroused the Maoris by tossing hand grenades into
a building sheltering wounded. Italians were shot, bayoneted, and pushed over the cliff during
one of those grim moments when all control is lost.
In the midst of this pandemonium, Muirhead, who had been indulging in the rare spectacle
of observing at close quarters the operations of an Italian cookhouse in the village immediately
below the northern side of the pinnacle, charged down to the ledge. He had been on the way
back from the far side of the pinnacle, had seen what was going on, had collected two or three
Shaw sent a note to Brigade, for no signals cables had withstood the heavy shellfire despite the gallant and constant endeavour of the Brigade signallers, explaining what had happened and asking for reinforcements. Another platoon from 21 Battalion was sent, taken from C Company under Lieutenant Hirst. This party arrived at nine in the evening.
Hardly had the reinforcements got into position before the enemy again attacked, taking the two platoons by surprise as they thought that all access routes were covered. The pinnacle was captured, and an attempt was made to clear the ledge. But the men were rallied and drove the enemy back to the pinnacle, where they occupied the mosque and adjacent buildings. A stalemate developed. Neither party could remove the other, each endeavour being frustrated by a shower of hand grenades and small-arms fire.
With daylight on the 21st the enemy took advantage of the extra height of the buildings
on the pinnacle, and it was soon clear that it would be no easy task to dislodge them. Shaw was
wounded while sniping from a gap in a wall, and Hirst took command. At the bottom of the
hill the Brigade Commander ordered
Hirst and Manahi then discussed the problem of driving the enemy from the pinnacle. Manahi
tried to get the 53 who then arrived to observe for
Immediately two parties from the ledge, one led by Manahi, the other by Sergeant I. Weepu,54
went up to the pinnacle. The enemy had gone! A thorough investigation showed that he had
left by the same mysterious means by which he had surprised the two platoons from 21 Battalion
the night before—the tunnel giving on to the path to the village. Manahi remembered that he
had forgotten to point out the tunnel during the relief.
The end was not yet, however, for the enemy was still firmly entrenched in the village and
on the north-west slopes. It was approximately midday, and it seemed that the position was
little better than on the previous day. There had been an improvement, for line communication
had been re-established during the night and both Headquarters 5 Brigade and the supporting
As soon as the enemy realised that the pinnacle had changed hands once more, both ledge
and pinnacle were again subjected to heavy and continuous mortar fire. More casualties were
The village itself was a different proposition, not so easily dealt with. Perched on a narrow ridge, huddled close to the abrupt face of the pinnacle, it was a very difficult target. Yet Hirst believed that some softening was necessary, as all access routes were covered from solidly built stone houses that would afford complete protection against the small-arms fire of any attacking party. He rang Headquarters 5 Brigade in the middle of the afternoon to discuss the situation.
The Brigadier was up with 55
after considering the possibility of getting a two-pounder anti-tank gun up the hill, decided to
get one of the new 17-pounders to range on the village from its emplacement near Brigade
Headquarters. The 17-pounder was still on the secret list, to be used in emergencies only. However, permission was obtained to use it, and the gun crew was soon briefed. The first shot landed
on the roof of a building occupied by Hirst's men, drawing immediate and anxious objections,
but soon the gun was sending its solid shells ricochetting through the village. The excited observers
from the summit saw that the stone buildings gave little protection against this bombardment,
and that the enemy had been reduced to panic.
The opportunity was promptly seized. The first move was made by Manahi and a group of Maoris. While the 17-pounder had been in action, Manahi and his men had been stalking enemy posts on the north-east slopes, dodging and creeping among the boulders, swift to use bayonet or grenade. Several weapon pits had been taken in turn and many prisoners captured, when Manahi noticed the effect of the 17-pounder on the enemy in the village. He believed that the plum was at last ripe for the plucking, and with several others made for the village.
The other movement was made by Hirst.
Below on the flat
The final objectives of the
During the critical stages of the first night of the battle the necessity for flexible command
was demonstrated. The losses on the west side of
During the action 5 Brigade had captured 732 prisoners, 164 of these being German. The enemy
units identified had been from
The enemy, too, regarded the battle as an epic feat of arms, as the following translation will show:
Extract from Report by General Messe, Commander 1 Army (German-Italian), on the Battle
of Enfidaville,
…. When I had inspected our defensive system I had immediately seen the importance which
I reproduce here a letter I received from General La Ferla (commander of Trieste Division) on 18 April:
To His Excellency General Messe, 1 Army Commander
This morning, in your name and the name of the Motherland, in the presence of representatives of the
(Signed) La Ferla
The Takrouna garrison comprised 1/66 Infantry Regiment and the German platoon mentioned above, a troop of 65-millimetre guns, and one of captured 25-pounder guns of 16 Artillery Regiment.
The enemy's preliminary barrage was terrific. It lasted from 11 p.m. on 19 April until 6 a.m.
next morning, when enemy infantry moved to the attack against
The attack was so violent, and supported so strongly by continual waves of fresh troops, that
the German strongpoint of
About 9 a.m., after a violent hand-to-hand struggle, our positions on the south-east of the height were overrun. The enemy then infiltrated on to the top of the mountain and into the tiny village which dominated it. Our battalion commander led a few men of his headquarters in counter-attacks to drive the attackers out.
This situation would have been untenable in face of the great numbers of the enemy still
moving up (almost the entire 2 NZ Division) if fresh forces had not been on their way up to
Moving with the vigour characteristic of our best shock troops, Folgore Battalion dislodged the enemy from house after house, pushed him back from rock to rock, hurled him down off the precipices on the eastern side of the mountain, and retook all the lost positions. The mopping- up took many hours, and not until nearly dawn on 21 April could the situation be regarded as completely restored.
But the enemy did not cease his efforts to occupy
From 5 p.m. that day the furious struggle on the mountain was carried on more at random than with any sort of direction, as all direct contact was lost, but there was no let-up in the fighting.
The same enemy who had at first advertised his capture of the outpost, and then contradicted his own words, was now puzzled to find such fierce resistance by every little group of our men, who preferred death to surrender.
The struggle went on from episode to episode all day on 22 April and all the night of 22-23 April. Not until the early hours of the 23rd did the enemy gain the mastery of the situation.
But at what a cost! The enemy himself admitted that his casualties were enormous, and that he actually did not have the troops available to launch any more attacks.
The battle in the
1Brig W. G. Gentry, CBE, DSO and bar, m.i.d., MC (Gk), US Bronze Star;
2Kippenberger
3Lt-Col C. M. Bennett, DSO;
4Brig R. W. Harding, DSO, MM, ED; Kirikopuni,
5Lt-Col R. E. Romans, DSO, m.i.d.; born Arrowtown; business manager, CO 23 Bn 1942–43; twice wounded; died of wounds
6Maj W. Porter, MC and bar;Pupuke,
7Cape W. M. Awarau;
8Capt W. Te A. Haig, m.i.d.; Ruatoria; born Waipiro Bay, Ruatoria,
9Maj C. Sorenson;
10Capt M. Wikiriwhi, DSO, MC, m.i.d.; Taneatua; born
11Maj W. P. Anaru;
12Sgt T. Trainor, MM; born Ruatoki,
13Sgt J. Rogers; born NZ,
14Capt P. F. Te H. Ornberg, MC, m.i.d.; born NZ,
15Maj B. M. Laird, ED;
16Capt R. A. Shaw; Taumarunui; born
17Maj D. J. Ashley, m.i.d.;
18Lt I. H. Hirst, MC;
19Capt G. A. H. Bullock-Douglas;
20Maj W. J. G. Roach, MC;
21Capt J. C. Chalmers;
222 Lt L. A. Steiner, DCM; born NZ,
23Lt R. Donaldson; born NZ,
24Lt G. M. Taylor; born Walton,
25L-Cpl A. T. Luxford, MM;
26L-Sgt L. N. Parris, MM;
272 Lt J. T. Upton; born NZ,
28Capt I. A. Murray; born
29Lt-Col W. B. Thomas, DSO, MC and bar, m.i.d., US Silver Star;
30Lt A. F. Bailey, MC;
31Maj A. S. Robins, MC; Queenstown; born Queenstown,
32Capt S. Wilson, ED, m.i.d.; born NZ,
33Capt H. C. Black; born NZ,
342 Lt F. J. Muir, MM; born NZ,
35WO II W. S. Smellie; Dunedin; born Dunedin,
36Sgt W. D. Dawson;
37Maj C. A. Slee, m.i.d.; born Westport; clerk; died of wounds
38Maj H. Montgomery;
39Maj A. C. Marett, MC; Dunedin; born Dunedin,
40Sgt H. Manahi, DCM;
41Maj S. F. Catchpole, MC, m.i.d.;
422 Lt W. J. Smith, DCM;
43Pte K. Aranui;
44Lt H. Grant, MM;
45Maj A. Ross, MC and bar, m.i.d., Order of Valour (Gk); Dunedin; born Herbert, North Otago,
46Maj-Gen C. E. Weir, CB, CBE, DSO and bar, m.i.d.;
47Pte T. Heka, DCM; Awanui,
48Maj J. C. Muirhead, MC;
49L-Sgt H. Ruha, MM; born NZ,
50Pte W. Takurua;
51Col K. W. R. Glasgow, DSO, ED, m.i.d.;
52L-Cpl J. P. Bell;
53Maj A. F. Harding, MC;
54WO II I. Weepu, MM;
55Fairbrother
The occupations given in each case are those on enlistment
THIS ACCOUNT is based on the war diaries and official documents of 2 New Zealand
Division, supplemented by material from officers and men who served with the units concerned. The author is indebted to all those who supplied information so freely and so
patiently. The map is by L. D. McCormick, and the sketch on page 4 is by J. P.
Snadden. The photographs come from many collections, which are stated where
they are known:
K. G. Killoh Cover, page 14 (top), page 17 (bottom), page 18 (top), page 19 (bottom) and page 22
Royal Air Force page 13
The author,
the type used throughout the series is
Aldine Bembo
which was revived for monotype from a rare book printed by aldus
in 1495 * the text is set in 12 point on
a body of 14 point
cover photographs
(top left) Cape Terawhiti, New Zealand
(top right) Lieutenant D. L. Vaughan at
(bottom) Camouflaged, radar station, Lombari, off
THIS ACCOUNT of the services of New Zealand Coastwatchers may be found
to be more interesting than were the monotonous vigils so steadfastly endured. The
ill-fated group in the Gilberts gave a magnificent example of cold courage and devotion
to duty which should not be forgotten.
This is the 19th of the Episodes and Studies series, which will be completed in
24 numbers. Binding cases may be obtained from booksellers.
New Zealand's share in the Pacific War is related in a volume which we expect to
publish within the next twelve months.
THIS NARRATIVE is based on New Zealand Post and Telegraph Department and
Army and Navy records, a report on the Cape Expedition by L. Clifton of the Aerodromes
Services Branch of the (then) Public Works Department, and The Coast Watchers by
Eric Feldt (
The maps were drawn by L. D. McCormick. The photographs come from various collections which are stated where they are known:
THE DUTIES OF THE COASTWATCHER are not spectacular. His role is passive or
preventive rather than active and aggressive, but the information he obtains can be of vital
importance. The commerce-raiding enemy at large in the
The coastwatcher's duty is tedious. He has to spend long hours looking out over the inconstant but unchanging ocean or struggling with his radio, groping for contact with the outside world. He has to endure, perhaps to an exaggerated degree, all the monotony and boredom of service life without the compensation of a multitude of new friendships. It is only near a few main ports that he will have enough to do to keep healthily busy.
Coastwatching was carried on from our own coasts and those of New Zealand dependencies.
Watch was also kept on those islands to the north and the south which might, in enemy hands,
menace our security. Although the greater part of the coastwatching communications system was
operated by New Zealanders, the actual watch for ships and aircraft on many
In
The scheme for the location and maintenance of coastwatching posts throughout New Zealand
was further elaborated during 1938 and 1939, provision being made for fifty-eight stations
operating a 24-hour watch. On the outbreak of war the scheme was smoothly brought into
action. In
In later years of the war the coastwatching organisation was several times modified. The
number of stations fluctuated; some were abolished altogether and aerial patrols substituted.
Stations were established in the
The more important and accessible stations were linked to the Area Combined Headquarters by direct line telephone. Others, in the more remote positions, reported by radio.
Although operational control was centred in the
THE NEW ZEALAND
The political control of the eastern
New Zealand's coastwatching stations were mere pinpoints in the immensity of the Tagua, New Golden Hind, and Ranui.
The operational control of this wide network of coastwatching stations was centred in New
Zealand, but our responsibility for maintaining them was limited. The Post and Telegraph
Department supplied radio equipment for many stations, both in our own dependencies and
on islands governed by
In all island territories a general instruction was issued to the population at large to report
to the authorities the appearance of strange ships or aircraft, as well as drifting or stranded mines
or unusual flotsam and jetsam. On populous islands like
LOCAL authorities gave the utmost assistance to the coastwatching system. At Rarotonga,
in the
Not all
The New Zealand Chiefs of Staff doubted the wisdom of posting to remote tropical islands
young men without much experience of life who might not easily adjust themselves to the isolated
conditions in places where they would be the only Europeans among a native population. It
was decided, therefore, that these operators should have older men as companions. Thus soldier
companions to most of the wireless operators were sent in pairs to the Gilbert and Ellice Islands,
except
The sub-Antarctic islands were manned at first wholly by men recruited by the Public Works
Department, and both Raoul (or Sunday) Island in the Kermadecs and Suvarov (or Suwarrow)
Island had, to begin with, Public Works survey parties which also acted as coastwatchers. The
radio operators in each case were recruited from the Post and Telegraph Department. Suvarov
had been noted by the Chiefs of Staff in
During
At the beginning of
In agreement with the Governor of
In each island group a parent station passed to When Ocean Island was evacuated in
To make sure that each station was always ‘on the air’ if needed, sub-stations passed signals
to parent stations and the parent stations themselves made contact with
COASTWATCHING duties are so self-evident that they do not call for complicated instructions. The two important considerations are, first, to maintain an alert watch through the twenty-four hours, and second, to keep communications in an efficient state so that any sightings of ships or aircraft can be promptly reported.
Even though the duty is simple in outline, there is a great deal of difference between a bad sighting report and a good one. An exact description of a ship or an aircraft makes its identification certain instead of doubtful. A list of questions to answer about shipping and aircraft simplified procedure, and a good sighting report might read something like this:
N.Z.N.L.O.,
From the plot of the movements of merchant ships kept by naval operations officers the vessel could then be identified easily and its progress noted. Special alarm signals supplemented these general sighting reports. An attack by enemy aircraft was signalled by ‘AAAA’, an enemy landing or shelling by ‘LLLL’. All enemy or suspected enemy reports were given the priority ‘Immediate’.
In the
THE PLAN for extending the coastwatching network to the Gilbert and Ellice Islands was
formulated in All the operators in the Gilbert and Ellice Islands had received training in weather reporting and were equipped
with a supply of weather-report forms and code-books. At Funafuti pilot balloon flights were also made in addition
to the ordinary weather reports.
On 20 July HMFS 700 tons, then owned by the Colony of Viti
Ashore there were Government buildings available for use on Beru and
One of the soldiers captured in the northern Gilberts also testified afterwards to the pleasant climate of his island. But on one occasion the island, only six feet high, was swamped in a hurricane by heavy seas. All the houses were damaged but were quickly repaired. Here, too, fresh food could be obtained locally, though the coastwatchers depended on rain water for drinking.
The men's relations with the natives were generally good, except on one of the Ellices where
the two soldiers quarrelled with the inhabitants and also did not speak to each other for months.
When the A small motor vessel owned by the Colony of Degei
The worst feature of this island life, no matter how attractive the climate and the setting,
was that the men often did not have enough to do, and the opportunities for recreation were
not varied enough to keep them happy throughout a long period of duty. The radio operators,
with their weather reporting duties, equipment maintenance, and radio schedules to keep, were
more fortunate than the soldier companions, but for most coastwatchers boredom was the arch-enemy. In some instances, however, the ease of tropical living did directly affect efficiency and
radio schedules were laxly kept. A serious case of neglect of duty occurred in
New Zealand Coastwatchers
The Cape Expedition
After Beru failed, when the Japanese occupied the southern Gilberts, precautions were taken
at
The Gilbert Islands were so close to the Japanese mandated territory in the Marshalls that they
were placed in a position of immediate danger by
On Bikati Island in the Makin (or Butaritari) atoll, the coastwatchers calmly reported the
entry into the lagoon of twenty-three enemy ships. The Japanese landed next day and the following day captured the three coastwatchers, but not before a last distress signal had been sent and
the radio and code-books destroyed. Seven New Zealanders were made prisoner by this time
—three wireless operators and four soldier companions. Corporals M. P. McQuinn, J. M. Jones, and S. R. Wallace, Privates J. M. Menzies, M. Menzies, L. E. H. Muller
and B. Were. The first three were the wireless operators; they were given military rank retrospectively. All were
repatriated at the end of the war.
The remaining islands of the Gilbert Group were not occupied by the enemy until about nine months later. During this time the coastwatchers carried on as usual. They had volunteered to remain at their posts, and the information they could give of the strength of an enemy attack and even the negative information that would be provided when they became silent were equally vital to the Allies.
Towards the end of Degei was sent to the Ellices and southern Gilberts
with stores for the coastwatchers. She was ordered to go no farther north than Nonouiti, where
the supplies for Kuria, Abemama, and Maiana were put ashore. The Degei was making the
voyage under difficulties as Japanese air patrols passed daily over the Gilberts. She moved only
at night and did not break radio silence. It was arranged that a half-caste should use a launch
towing a lifeboat to take the stores to the three northern stations. The coastwatchers at these
posts, receiving their stores by this means, must have felt that they were already lost, even though
not already forgotten.
THE OCEAN ISLAND radio station was manned by some civilian New Zealand Post and
Telegraph operators seconded for duty with the
The final occupation of the Gilberts by the Japanese was heralded by the fall of Nauru Island
on
The conduct of the coastwatchers during the invasion was altogether admirable. They coded and sent off signals giving the strength of the enemy, and on some islands signals were still being sent after the enemy had landed. All stations sent the correct distress signal ‘LLLL’ before their radio and code-books were destroyed. Some sent a last message heroic in its simplicity and understatement—‘Japs coming. Regards to all.’ or ‘Two warships visiting us. No launch yet.’ or, sticking even more closely to the business in hand, ‘Ship one mile NW of island with high superstructure forward.’
‘The Naval Board’, it is stated in a service file under a date in
The coastwatchers were not all captured immediately. They had been waiting nine months in daily expectation of the Japanese invasion, and no doubt had often considered what action they would take when the enemy arrived. Many of them escaped and hid in the bush for several days, but gave themselves up either when the Japanese threatened reprisals against the native inhabitants or when they felt that reprisals would be the result of their escape. One party had an excellent chance at least of putting to sea but were refused the use of a launch by the natives for fear of Japanese action and gave themselves up to the enemy.
There are some other indications of how well the coastwatchers bore themselves in the testimony collected afterwards from natives and other observers. (Some French Roman Catholic
missionaries were left at liberty by the Japanese under close and onerous supervision.) One
soldier when taken prisoner refused to allow a Japanese to lead him by the arm. When the guard
presented his bayonet, the soldier imperturbably asked him for a drink. On another island,
while he was collecting his belongings, a New Zealand soldier was jostled by a Japanese whom
Seventeen New Zealand coastwatchers—seven wireless operators and ten soldiers—were
taken prisoner in this completion of the Japanese occupation of the Gilberts. Five civilians,
including the Government wireless operator at
In the early afternoon on
At an enquiry into the
The coastwatchers who died on The New Zealanders who died on
The civilian status of some of the coastwatchers, men seconded from the Post and Telegraph
Department as radio operators or Public Works Department employees, had caused anxiety
in New Zealand after the capture by the enemy of the first civilian wireless operators in the
northern Gilberts. It was decided in The position of the remaining coastwatchers in the Gilberts had obviously become desperate. They can only have
been abandoned because it was considered that the information they supplied was worth the sacrifice. It must have
been expected that they would be captured, and attention might have been given earlier to their status as civilians or
combatants.—Note by Editor-in-Chief.
THE EASTERN PACIFIC is the widest expanse of nearly unbroken ocean in the world.
In this empty area Pitcairn is one of the few islands close to the route between He was later taken into the service of the
British and Allied Merchant Shipping.
A merchant ship, the J. Sterling Morton, 7181 tons, was supplied by the
The coast of Pitcairn Island is precipitous. Surf boats can be beached at only one point and
the unbroken ocean swell makes boat work dangerous. To simplify unloading, everything had
been shipped in packages of up to 200 lb. weight. In spite of this, lowering the gear into open
boats and hoisting the packages up the cliffs of the island were difficult operations, even with
the help of the whole able-bodied population and the construction party. The ship remained
off the island for eleven days. Four operators, enlisted in the New Zealand Army, had been
landed, and Dyett, who was first attested into the Army, was also appointed, together with
the Pitcairn-born Young and a cook. The station was kept in operation until
A SYSTEM of coastwatching posts operated by the
Although it is not directly part of the history of New Zealand in the war, the work of some
individual New Zealanders among the Eric Feldt, The Coast Watchers (
Another of Kennedy's activities was to rescue airmen shot down over the neighbouring
area. He paid the natives a standard reward of a bag of rice and a case of tinned meat for each
airman, friend or foe, delivered to
By
From early in
Telegraphist G. Carpenter,
Another New Zealander, Telegraphist T. Witham, RNZNVR, was attached to a coastwatching party which went with the United States Marines in
A New Zealand Wesleyan missionary, the Rev. A. W. E. Silvester, who remained at his
station on Eric Feldt, Helena, sunk in battle with the enemy, reached
the island, and Silvester joined with the coastwatchers in collecting the men before they could
be caught by Japanese patrols and in organising the scanty local food supply to cope with the
large influx. The men were taken off by destroyer a week later. Silvester was afterwards awarded
the United States Medal of Merit for these services.The Coast Watchers. The greater part of this account of the
THE ESTABLISHMENT of coastwatching stations on the sub-Antarctic islands several hundred miles south of Stewart Island was known during the war, for purposes of secrecy, as the ‘Cape Expedition’.
Erlangen, 6101 tons, which had sailed from Holmwood and Rangitane in
In These were the German auxiliary cruiser 10,000 tons, six 11-inch and eight 5.9-inch guns.Orion and her supply ship, the captured Norwegian tanker Ole Jacob.Admiral ScheerGoeben had reached Admiral Scheer might have had a similar mission, and it was estimated that she
could reach the Auckland Islands from the
Thus, when the small auxiliary schooner The Tagua sailed from Tagua was sheltering in Port Ross at the northern end of the
Auckland Group on 10 March, and on the 13th entered Carnley Harbour. She might well have
arrived to find the Admiral Scheer or the OrionOrion and the Ole Jacob, en route to the dénouement for her passengers and crew, even though it would have meant
a hue and cry after the enemy ships. The coastwatchers and the crew of the Tagua had been
instructed, in the event of meeting the enemy, to pretend to be on a fishing trip or to ‘adopt
any other stratagem which you think will throw him off the real object of your party.’
It would have been difficult to convince even moderately suspicious German captors of the
civilian innocence of the enterprise when the cargo included radio equipment, portable huts,
and stores on a generous scale for a long sojourn in a cold climate. The Tagua, with merchant
service officers, had eight RNZNVR ratings as seamen. The coastwatchers were civilians. Even
if the code-books they carried could have been successfully destroyed, the evidence was enough
to show them as civilians engaged upon a military enterprise, and their capture would have
qualified them for execution as francs tireurs.
No raider appeared during the five years the Cape Expedition was in being. Two ships,
both Allied merchantmen, were sighted by the most northerly group of coastwatchers during
The Cape Expedition, in spite of its accelerated departure, had been carefully planned. The
Aerodrome Services Branch of the Public Works Department undertook responsibility for
manning the stations, providing the huts and finding suitable sites for them, and collecting the
stores; its representative sailed in the Tagua in charge of the establishment of the stations.
Although the notice was short, men were found. They had to be used to living in remote
places, self-reliant but not self-sufficient, for they had to be co-operative and cheerful. The
stations were small, four men at each, increased to five in the second year. At first they were
civilians, but all were attested into the Army as privates in
Because of the rigours of the climate, food had to be provided on a lavish scale. Three years'
supply was taken, as it was impossible to estimate when the expedition might be relieved. Clothing
was provided in generous quantity, and tools and accessories to deal with every imaginable
contingency. Portable pre-fabricated huts with double plywood walls and double windows
were erected at the three stations. Each station had a dinghy and outboard motor, and the
MV Ranui (57 tons) remained in the Aucklands to act as a link between them and, if necessary,
the outside world.
In practice it was found that windproof clothing was more important than warm clothing.
The temperature never fell very low; it averaged a little under 50 degrees throughout the year.
But the islands were almost continuously clouded (an attempt in
Three shore stations were established: No. 1 at Port Ross, No. 2 at Carnley Harbour, in the
Aucklands, and No. 3 at Perseverance Harbour, Campbell Island. The Ranui's crew of four
maintained a shore observation post at her usual anchorage, Waterfall Inlet, in the
The first instructions laid stress on concealment. Emergency radio stations were established in the vicinity of each station. The men were encouraged to carry out surveys, to take weather observations, and to interest themselves in the wild life of the islands. They made one signal daily by radio, at staggered hours to decrease the risk of their presence becoming known and the value of their work being compromised.
In
The work of the parties, apart from their coastwatching duties, was obviously a help in
maintaining morale. Men with strong intellectual interests were likely to be better able to
stand the loneliness and privations of sub-Antarctic life than others who could find no special
significance in their environment. The health of the men was remarkably good, belying the
forebodings with which the first parties were established. A nineteenth-century attempt to colonise
the Auckland Islands had failed miserably, and a sheep station on Campbell Island had been
abandoned in
Neither the Aucklands nor Campbell Island were ideal homes. The Aucklands were largely
covered with impenetrable rata forest, sprawling horizontally along the ground, and the open
The chief compensation of living in the sub-Antarctic (apart from ‘time to think’, as one
coastwatcher put it) was the abundant wild life, particularly seals and sea birds, which gives
these coasts their special interest for the zoologist and birdwatcher. On the Aucklands, shooting
wild pigs in the bush or wild cattle or blue rabbits on Enderby Island, provided both sport and
fresh meat. The mutton from the flocks on Campbell Island was so good that in
The routine work of keeping the station going absorbed much of the coastwatchers' time.
Every man in turn did a day's cooking, firewood had to be cut, and from time to time stores
had to be brought up from the beach. ‘Coastwatching, conscientiously maintained, is not the
relaxed occupation it might seem to be,’ Report by Dr. R. A. Falla,
The coastwatchers were relieved every year. Some men volunteered to remain or returned after a year's interval; two of them spent three years in the sub-Antarctic.
THE RECORD of the coastwatchers in the
The chief military value of coastwatching stations must always be precautionary. Although
in the latter stages of the war in the
The fine response of those coastwatchers who came in contact with the enemy speaks for the spirit, as well as for the efficiency, of the rest. Coastwatching experience embraced both the heat of the tropics and the cold of the sub-Antarctic. The vigil of the coastwatchers in the southern Gilberts after the Japanese conquest of the northern islands of the group, daily expecting capture and daily seeing the enemy's reconnaissance planes in the sky and never their own, was one calling for a type of endurance described by a naval observer as ‘cold courage—a rarer thing than courage in action.’
cover photograph
Pilots of a Buffalo squadron scramble
VERY few people are aware that New Zealand airmen played a prominent, almost
predominant, part in the defence of Malaya and Burma in 1941–42. It is recorded
in this number of the Episodes series, and the record is a very fine one of devoted and
desperate service by these youngsters against literally overwhelming odds. Nor is No. 1
Construction Squadron very well known. It gave splendid service in Malaya, survived
many vicissitudes with sang-froid, and had a remarkable and highly creditable experience
on SS Darvel,
This is the 20th number of the Episodes and Studies series, to be completed in 24
numbers. Binding cases may be obtained from booksellers.
IN
About half past eleven on the morning of 6 December, the routine reconnaissance flown by
Hudsons of No. 1 (General Reconnaissance) Squadron,
On 7–8 December 1941 the Japanese struck at
The Japanese advance down the Malay Peninsula was supported by a number of seaborne
landings on both the east and west coasts. On the morning of 26 January a patrolling Hudson
sighted two transports and a number of barges, escorted by two cruisers and eleven destroyers,
approaching Endau, on the east coast some eighty miles north of
The first wave attacked in rather cloudy conditions, but with the arrival of the second wave comprising the Vildebeestes of No. 36 Squadron, the weather suddenly cleared and enemy fighters intercepted the attacking aircraft before they could reach their target. Nevertheless they continued on their course with great determination, and as a result of the whole operation one cruiser and two destroyers were sunk and two transports set on fire. In addition, twelve Zeros were shot down for the loss of two Hurricanes and one Buffalo.
As was to be expected, however, the slow Vildebeestes suffered badly, eleven being shot down,
together with two of the three Albacores, the loss including both squadron commanders. Two
New Zealand pilots, Sergeants T. S. Tanner1 A. M. H. Fleming,2 were killed on this raid.
Pilot Officer R. C. Barclay,3 although shot up by enemy fighters and with his gunner killed,
flew through to the target in the face of an intense anti-aircraft barrage put up by the ships. After
delivering his attack he was shot down into the sea but, together with his observer, managed to
swim ashore. They walked down the coast for two days, when they fell in with the survivors
from a sunken destroyer. The whole party then continued on their journey and reached
After their heavy losses at Endau neither No. 36 nor No. 100 Squadron was employed in
During the early part of February the Japanese were observed to be building up shipping
concentrations at Balik Papan, and on the 26th a convoy of fifty ships was sighted steaming south
towards
The moon was one day past the full and the wind off shore. All was evidently set for simultaneous landings—one at the eastern end of
Following attacks on Kalidjati during the nights of 5 and 6 March, in which large fires were
started and considerable damage inflicted on the enemy, only two aircraft remained serviceable.
During December eighteen Hudsons and crews, amongst whom were six New Zealanders,
had been despatched from 4
On 4 February an attack by Hudsons and Blenheims, with top cover supplied by Hurricanes,
was directed against the aerodrome at Kluang, on the mainland of 5 who was last seen
lagging slightly behind the formation, failed to return. The Blenheims and Hurricanes did not
appear at the rendezvous point, as just before take-off it was discovered that the breech blocks
had been removed from the Hurricanes' guns, and the Blenheims, finding they had no top cover,
dropped their bombs on a railway line and returned to base.
In the evening of Friday, 13 February, five aircraft of No. 62 Squadron were sent to attack
a Japanese invasion fleet approaching 6 who provides the following account:
‘Nobody was very keen to have a go this day, because in the first place the only bombs we had
were “GPs” General purpose
“There was no cloud to speak of and visibility was good. The time was about 5.30 p.m.,
which left about half an hour until dusk, which was followed very quickly by complete darkness.
When we were about five miles away the enemy ships opened up with a very accurate barrage
The Hudsons were away again next morning with a mixed force of Australian Hudsons and RAF Blenheims to attack the enemy invasion fleet. From this sortie seven aircraft, including four from No. 62 Squadron, failed to return.
After a Japanese parachute attack on 7 and E. C. Gartrell8 were awarded the Distinguished Flying
Cross for gallantry and leadership throughout these bitter actions. Julian, who led the final flight
to operate from
Meanwhile in the aerial battle for
In 9 and the two Flight Commanders, Flight Lieutenants
J. N. MacKenzie, DFC,10 and J. R. Hutcheson,11 were New Zealanders already serving in the
Based at
However, largely through the personal initiative of Flying Officer C. W. Franks,12 the squadron
Equipment Officer, shortages were made up, and after hard work by all hands the aircraft were
made serviceable. The weather provided another handicap to the flying programme. At this
time of the year frequent heavy tropical thunder showers, which reduced visibility almost to zero,
interrupted training and grounded the aircraft.
When war broke out on 7 December, No. 488 Squadron was not yet fully operational, so
the initial burden of defending
As soon as the sirens went the ground staff and pilots at
On the first day of the war Pilot Officer R. S. Shields,13 in company with an
‘While at 9000 feet in pursuit of nine enemy bombers, I observed a bomb burst approximately
three miles ahead at one o'clock. I immediately turned sharply to port, through 180 degrees,
and saw a Japanese aircraft about 1000 feet below me. As a result of my turn I was coming up
on the bomber from astern. I saw it to be a twin-engined aircraft with a single rudder. Its shapely
nose was oval and transparent; its body well streamlined although it had no transparent structure
above the fuselage just aft the wing. I am unable to identify this aircraft by reference to any
silhouette with which I am familiar. The camouflage of the bomber was a single shade of dark
green above; a dirty grey-blue colour below. The markings were normal, with the addition of a
vertical band of red towards the rear of the rudder. I overhauled the enemy at about 25 m.p.h.
As my windshield was covered with oil, I was able to get only occasional glimpses of him. At
Also serving with the detached flight at Kota Bharu was another New Zealand pilot, Sergeant
C.B. Wareham,14 who in these early stages of the war began a career as a photographic reconnaissance pilot which was carried on with distinction throughout the later campaign in
Back in 15 also of No. 243 Squadron, to
achieve the honour of shooting down the first Japanese aircraft. During December there was
not much daylight activity by the enemy, who confined most of his aerial efforts over 16
were ordered to locate and protect the Prince of Wales and Repulse, which were being attacked
by Japanese high-level and torpedo bombers 170 miles away. By the time they arrived, however,
both ships had been sunk, but the Buffaloes provided escort to a destroyer which had rescued
survivors and was heading south at full speed. Following up, other members of the squadron,
flying in pairs, maintained until dusk a continuous patrol over the oil patches where survivors
were still being picked up.
Several times during the month pilots were ordered off the ground in pairs to intercept Japanese reconnaissance aircraft, but the enemy, flying high, always escaped before the Buffaloes could reach them.
On
Although there were no attacks by the enemy, this was the first major operation in which
No. 488 Squadron took part. By their excellent flying under most adverse conditions, the pilots
proved the value of their training, while on the aerodrome at
A second convoy arrived on 13 January bringing, among other forces, fifty-one Hurricane
aircraft and twenty fighter pilots. The effect of these reinforcements on morale in
Tengah was the first attacked, in the first week of the New Year, and
The squadron's first fight occurred on 12 January. Eight aircraft, which were standing by at readiness, were ordered to take off to intercept a raid coming south. Led by MacKenzie, they climbed as quickly as possible to the north-west. When they were at 12,000 feet, over Johore, they sighted the enemy force, consisting of twenty-seven fighters, 3000 feet above them. MacKenzie, seeing that he was heavily outnumbered and at a serious disadvantage in height, ordered his pilots to fly into the sun and take evasive action. The enemy spotted them, however, and dived on them en masse.
Two New Zealanders, Sergeants T. W. Honan17 and R. W. MacMillan,18 were shot down
in a few seconds. Both baled out and landed safely fifteen miles from Johore, Honan with a bullet
wound in his arm. Five other machines were damaged and two other pilots wounded, but all
managed to return to 19 attempted to press
home attacks on enemy fighters, but failed to score decisive hits before they were in turn attacked
and forced to break off the engagements.
A second formation, consisting of six aircraft led by Hutcheson, took off twenty minutes after MacKenzie. Hutcheson was the only one to make contact with the enemy. He was attacked by a Zero, but after being outmanoeuvred broke off the action. Another member of the squadron, who was flying on patrol with two Dutch pilots, was attacked by six Zeros but escaped into cloud.
Later in the morning MacKenzie and four other pilots flew a further patrol over 20 escaped uninjured.
Generally speaking, the Buffalo proved a disappointing aircraft. It did not stand up well to sustained climbing at full throttle, and frequently suffered from loss of power due to a drop in oil pressure and overheating. It could not operate above 25,000 feet, took thirty minutes to get there, and its speed was less than had been expected of it. This, combined with the unexpectedly high performance of the Japanese aircraft, particularly the Zero fighter, was to put the New Zealand squadron at a grave disadvantage during the campaign.
The next day's operations were equally severe, and are well described in the squadron's diary:
At 0630 hours Pilot Officer Hesketh led four aircraft of A Flight on a security patrol, but
no contact was made with the enemy. At 1100 hours Flight Lieutenant Hutcheson took off
with eight aircraft, some being from a Dutch squadron, to intercept 30 Type 96 bombers,
making contact with them and attacking from astern. The speed of the bombers was such
that the Buffalo aircraft could only just overhaul them but could not get into position for
beam or overhead attacks. Flight Lieutenant Hutcheson was shot up by rear-gun fire and
crash-landed at base. Pilot Officer Greenhalgh attacked an Army 96 bomber. Although only
two guns fired, he managed to get smoke from one engine. Pilot Officer Oakden was shot
down into the sea by rear-gun fire from a bomber, and was rescued by a Chinese sampan,
sustaining slight injuries to his face. Sergeant Clow was shot down in the sea, swam 400 yards
to a small island, and was picked up by some Chinese in a sampan and returned to
Today, although we did not meet up with the fighters because we did not attack from above, we were badly shot up from rear-gun fire. The Japanese bomber formations of 27 packed aircraft throw out such an accurate and heavy rear-gun barrage that they are very difficult to attack. Some way must be found to break up these mass formations and attack bombers independently. No doubt there was fighter escort in the near vicinity, but it did not pick up our fighters owing to cloudy conditions and also because we attacked from astern.
In the last two days 488 Squadron has lost seven aircraft and had many others damaged, with no loss to the enemy. No blame can be attached to the pilots, who have done their best with Buffaloes. Until we fly as Wings of 36 aircraft we will be unable to inflict heavy damage on the enemy.
The squadron's aircraft strength was now down to fourteen, most of which were damaged. In addition to normal servicing and maintenance work, the ground staffs had to repair machines after every engagement to enable them to fly again. From now on the Japanese were over Singapore every day, and as long as they had aircraft to fly, the defending forces went up to meet them.
No. 488 Squadron had its first combat success, and suffered its first battle casualty, on 15 January.
Led by Pilot Officer G. L. Hesketh,21 the readiness section took off to intercept a raid and was
attacked by a swarm of Japanese fighters. Hesketh was shot down and killed by a Japanese fighter,
and most of the other pilots had their machines more or less badly damaged. Sergeant E. E. G.
Kuhn22 scored the unit's first victory when he attacked a Type 97 fighter and sent it crashing to
the ground.
On 18 January Hutcheson led a successful patrol of pilots from No. 488 Squadron and No. 243
Squadron, 23 and Sergeant Killick both sent their opponents down in flames, and Hutcheson and
Sergeants Meaclem and Macintosh claimed the probables. A second patrol the same day, also
led by Hutcheson, resulted in Sergeant Kuhn shooting down another Zero into the sea and in
Hutcheson and Pilot Officer E. W. Cox24 being shot down. Hutcheson crashed in jungle but was
unhurt. Cox was killed.
The next day offensive patrols were flown over the mainland of 25 made a reconnaissance of Kuala Lumpur, 200 miles to the north of
From the middle of January until the end of the campaign, Nos. 488 and 243 Squadrons shared
between them practically the whole responsibility for the fighter defence of
As a result of continuous losses, the total British air strength by 19 January was only seventy-four
serviceable bombers and twenty-eight serviceable fighters. Against these the Japanese were using
an estimated 250 bombers and 150 fighters. No serviceable aerodromes remained in British hands
on the mainland, and to relieve congestion on
With such odds against them, the obsolescent, overworked Buffaloes could do little to ward
off the ever-increasing weight of Japanese attacks. 26) was fatally wounded. Two airmen who had been helping to get the aircraft off
were killed, and the squadron's headquarters was wrecked. Five airmen distinguished themselves
immediately after the raid when, disregarding exploding ammunition, they succeeded in putting
out a fire which had started in the armament filling room.
On 23 January Clouston was posted to Headquarters Operations Room, and the command of the squadron passed to MacKenzie, who was shortly afterwards promoted Squadron Leader.
Very few of the original twenty-one Buffaloes were left. The number available for operations varied from day to day between one and four, as the ground staff succeeded in making them serviceable. Too few to operate effectively by themselves, they flew with what was left of No. 243 Squadron. Even when combined the formations were pitifully weak in comparison with the enemy, but they went up to attack whenever the occasion demanded. The pilots, having learned their experience the hard way, were now fully seasoned fighters and could give an excellent account of themselves.
During the next few days No. 488 Squadron was re-equipped with nine Hurricanes from the shipment which had arrived earlier in the month. Changing to a new type of aircraft in the prevailing conditions was not a simple matter. The pilots, in between operations, had to learn to fly them and become acquainted with their characteristics; and the fitters, riggers, and armourers had to familiarise themselves with new equipment, new tools, and new techniques. The ever-present threat of air raids did nothing to help matters. But the change-over was made, and spirits rose all round at the thought of what the pilots could do with modern planes.
They were to have little chance of operating in them. At ten o'clock on the morning of
27 January, when all the machines were on the ground refuelling, twenty-seven bombers appeared
over the aerodrome with very little warning and everybody had to dive for cover. The bombers
dropped their entire load on
In the next few days the men of the squadron worked feverishly repairing the least damaged
of the aircraft and filling in the bomb craters. On 30 January they were able to put three Hurricanes into the air, operating from a single strip which had been cleared. Meanwhile, the situation
on the mainland had become rapidly worse. More convoys of reinforcements arrived, but they
had come too late to stem the Japanese advance and the British forces were obliged to withdraw
to the island of
With the enemy in possession of the northern shore of the Strait of Johore, three of
At nine o'clock on the evening of 31 January MacKenzie was told that No. 488 Squadron must be ready to move immediately. Throughout the night, interrupted by frequent air raids, the men prepared for the move. They packed all the Hurricanes' equipment and spares, and their personal clothing, into cases and loaded it on lorries ready to be taken to the docks. Then they dispersed the lorries in the rubber plantations round the aerodrome and awaited the order to go. The next day they were told they were not to go but were to stay and service the aircraft of No. 232 RAF Squadron which had recently arrived from England. The ground staffs of all other squadrons were being evacuated, and that of No. 488 was the last to remain on the island.
February opened with increasing bombing raids by the Japanese, who were able to attack
the aerodromes and the harbour at will. Oil tanks near the Naval Base were hit and blazed furiously, covering the island with a dense pall of black smoke. The few fighters left at
On 4 February Pilot Officer P. D. Gifford27 and Flight Sergeant J. Rees28 took a party of men
to Sembawang to service the aircraft of No. 232 Squadron. They arrived just as the Japanese
started shelling the aerodrome from across the Strait. They worked on the aircraft that night,
and next morning the pilots took off in a hail of shells and flew all the serviceable ones to
On the evening of 6 February the pilots of the squadron left by ship for
The Japanese landed on Singapore Island on the night of 8–9 February, and two days later they
were well across the island. No. 232 Squadron flew all its serviceable aircraft, which were badly
in need of repair, to Empire Star. At half past six the ship
pulled out into the stream and anchored.
After a night of suspense she sailed at half past six next morning for
The squadron's pilots had arrived in
The ground staff, after reaching
Until 22 February the two squadrons carried out patrols over
It was now clear that the Japanese would probably overrun the whole of the Deucalion and sailed for
From the time it left New Zealand in
Heavy Odds
danger which it would be hard to surpass. At the beginning of the Malayan campaign it was a
half-trained, untried unit. At the end Air Vice-Marshal P. C. Maltby, Air Officer Commanding
the
A paragraph in the despatch of the GOC
I wish here to pay tribute to the gallant air crews who throughout the later stages of the Malayan campaign went unflinchingly to almost certain death in obsolete aircraft which should have been replaced several years before….
No.
Airfield construction was one of the major problems confronting the British command in
The men were recruited from all over New Zealand. They came from the Public Works
Department, from private construction companies, and from the ranks of those already enlisted
in the
An advanced party of four officers and fifteen airmen, who formed the Survey Section, left
New Zealand towards the end of July in the Dutch ship Maetsuyker and reached 29
travelled by air and arrived two days after the first. The rest of the squadron, with the heavy equipment, sailed on 13 August in the SS Narbada. Accommodation on the Narbada was so inadequate
that most of the men were put ashore in
In Malaya the unit was based at
As soon as the squadron was settled in it began its first job, the construction of a bomber aerodrome. The site, consisting of two runways in the shape of an L, had already been marked out by the survey party, and the construction machinery had been assembled ready to begin work.
The whole area was covered by rubber plantations, miles and miles of trees, planted in orderly rows. The initial process in building the strips was the removal of the trees, which were uprooted by bulldozers and thrust aside to be cut up for firewood by Chinese coolies. Then came the rough levelling of the ground by carry-alls, enormous scoops drawn by 18-ton tractors, which took the tops off the hillocks and deposited the spoil in the hollows; lastly, the graders took over, smoothing out the rough spots and evenly distributing the gravel put down to surface the runways. The mechanical work was supplemented by the labour of hundreds of coolies. They swarmed everywhere with picks and shovels, putting the finishing touches to what the machines had done.
When the squadron started operations the north-east monsoon season had begun. With clock-like regularity the rain started in the afternoons, turning the newly-cleared ground into a quagmire of soft, sticky mud. It did not interfere seriously with the tree-felling by the bulldozers, but the tractors and carry-alls, working on the bare clay, became bogged to their axles. After a heavy afternoon's rain it was impossible to work them until next morning's sun had dried the ground. Then for a few hours, while the sun streamed down and the earth rose in choking clouds of dust, the excavating and grading went on until the rain again put a stop to it. Whenever a spell of fine weather occurred, work went on continuously, far into the night, to make up for lost time, and the peace of the countryside was shattered by the roar of bulldozers and tractors.
Towards the end of November, when the 30 was sent to Bekok, ninety miles to the
north, to mark out the site for a second bomber aerodrome.
For news of the outside world the men relied mainly on the camp radio, and the broadcasts showed that the situation was growing daily graver. The road running past the camp, too, gave evidence that something was afoot. Every day it was crowded with military transport: staff cars, guns, truckloads of troops and arms, all hurrying north.
Early on the morning of 8 December
The loss of airfields in northern
In the middle of December work at
Besides its main task of building aerodromes, the squadron was called on to do a multitude
of other odd jobs whenever experience in handling heavy equipment or machinery was needed.
The salvage party, formed at the beginning of the war, had been sent to northern
Early in January the detachments at Seletar and Tengah were recalled to start work again
on the
The Rifle Range strip was finished, except for final grading and surfacing, by the middle of
the month, and was being used by light aircraft of the Malayan Volunteer Air Force. It was the
only one built by the squadron in
On 15 January, with the Japanese at the northern border of Johore, the Bekok camp was
finally evacuated and the runway was blown up next day. Work at
Then came the order to evacuate the camp and prepare the airstrip for demolition. Coolies
dug holes in the newly formed runways, and mines were laid in them ready to be exploded when
On Singapore the unit was quartered at the Singapore Dairy Farm, in the centre of the island and about a dozen miles from the city. The men lived in tents hidden among the rubber trees, and the officers in one of the farm buildings. For the next few days, despite frequent interruptions by enemy bombers, work was continued on the two new strips at Sungei Buloh and Yio Chu Kang, both of which were by then almost completed. When, at the beginning of February, the Japanese brought their artillery to bear on them, both had to be abandoned. There was also a constant demand for men and machinery to help in repairing bomb damage on the main aerodromes, which were under daily attack, and parties were sent out from the unit as they were needed. In addition, at the urgent request of the Army authorities, a detachment spent several days building tank traps in the western part of the island.
At the end of January it was plain that
On the morning of 1 February the squadron was ordered to embark with its machinery on
the SS Talthybius. The equipment was sent down to the docks, and at one o'clock in the afternoon was all at the ship's side, ready for loading. As a result of the daily bombing of the port,
all the native labourers had long since disappeared. No help could be had from the ship's native
crew, who were untrained and useless as stevedores. Consequently all the work of loading,
including working the winches and stowing the cargo, had to be done by the squadron. The
ship's derricks were rigged, winches manned, and loading began at three o'clock.
Work ceased at nightfall, as a strict blackout had to be maintained. It was resumed at daylight next day, and by that evening most of the equipment was on board. There were numerous
air-raid alarms during the day; but the work continued without a stop until enemy bombers
were practically overhead, when the men took cover, some in shelters on the wharf, others in
the ship's hold, to emerge again immediately the raid was over. Several times bombs fell close,
but the Talthybius was not hit. In sixteen hours of working time, despite interruptions, the men
loaded between 2300 and 2500 tons, ship's measurement, of heavy equipment, including tractors,
trucks, stores and machinery.
The ship remained at the wharf again that night, and the men returned to their camp at the
Dairy Farm. Next morning a working party went down to straighten up the cargo and help to
load some additional Talthybius survived the first, although bombs fell close by.
In the second she received two direct hits from bombs which exploded in the holds, and there
were several more near misses. The working party was caught on board, and one man was killed.
Seven more were seriously injured, with severe burns and shock, one of them dying in hospital
the next day. The ship was set on fire, and water poured in through holes in her side.
The fires were put out after a 24-hour struggle by the ship's crew, but she continued to make water fast in spite of the rigging of auxiliary pumps. Much of the cargo was destroyed by the bombing and fire, but the heavy excavating machinery and large quantities of medical, dental, and other stores were undamaged and it was hoped that a good deal could be saved. A party of volunteers went to the docks on the afternoon of 4 February and unloaded the medical stores and the men's kitbags, but lack of steam to work the winches prevented any of the heavier gear being taken off. Later the same afternoon another bombing attack set the ship on fire again and sank her.
The next two days were spent at the Dairy Farm waiting for fresh embarkation orders. By this time the Japanese were shelling the island, and the hazard of artillery fire was added to the constant bombing attacks. Shells burst all around the camp as the enemy fired at observation posts on nearby hillocks and searched for Australian batteries hidden in the neighbouring rubber plantations. Overhead, bombers swooped low as they dived to attack big oil installations half a mile away.
On the afternoon of 6 February the squadron was told it would be evacuated in a convoy sailing that evening. The men struck camp immediately and were taken in lorries to the docks. There, amid the litter of bomb wreckage and in the glare of burning buildings, they loaded all that was left of the unit's equipment on to the waiting ships. There was not much: only their personal kitbags, the medical supplies, and their rifles and ammunition.
Two parties were formed, one going on the SS City of Canterbury and the other on the SS
The convoy sailed that night, with a strong naval escort, for City of
Canterbury suffered the discomfort of overcrowding and insufficient food, and there were frequent
air-raid alarms; but the escorting warships warded off all enemy attacks, and the ships reached
Darvel, after lying at anchor in the stream all night, returned
to the wharf again on the morning of the 7th. The men landed and were taken to an
The following afternoon they again went down to the docks and embarked on the Darvel.
After some hours, during which there were several air raids, she eventually put to sea at dusk.
She had just cleared the harbour when she was again recalled and brought back to her berth.
Darvel lay alongside the wharf and the
men slept on her decks.
The next morning they were taken once more to the transit camp. During the night the
Japanese had landed on the western part of the island, and by morning they had made considerable progress eastwards. Towards midday their artillery started shelling the camp and all
personnel had to take to the shelter trenches. In the afternoon, during a lull in the shelling, the
men scrambled into their trucks and once more made for the docks. This time they went straight
aboard the Darvel, and she immediately headed for the open sea. She escaped just in time to
avoid a heavy dive-bombing and strafing attack on shipping in the docks, and the last view of
The ship sailed through the night, and at daybreak anchored off the southern tip of a small island to avoid observation by enemy aircraft. She was still short-staffed and members of the squadron virtually worked her. Some took shifts in the engine room and stokehold, others mounted and manned light anti-aircraft guns, and others took over the messing for all the troops on board.
The next stage of the voyage lay through Banka Strait, between Kintak, which had run
ashore during the day. In consequence, she was still in the Strait when the next day dawned.
She anchored in the shelter of a group of small islands in the hope that the Japanese would not
see her. Close by was another small ship which had been bombed some days before and abandoned.
The morning was peaceful until half past eleven, and then a formation of enemy bombers appeared. They were too high for the ship's anti-aircraft guns, so the gun crews withheld their fire and took cover. The planes altered their course slightly to bring them directly overhead, and then the bombs began to fall. For a minute all was confusion as the bombs rained down all round the ship, the explosions tossing her about like a cork and drenching her with spray. There were no direct hits, but concussion and splinters from near misses made the ship a shambles. Then it was over, and there was silence except for the hiss of steam escaping from burst pipes. Five minutes later the bombers returned, but this time they concentrated their attack on the abandoned steamer a few hundred yards away. They sank her and, having used up all their bombs, returned to their base.
The Flight Lieutenant F. Butler commanded the party on the Darvel, although spared a second bombing, was in parlous condition. Her hull was riddled
with holes by bomb splinters, and she was leaking badly. The steering gear was damaged, and
so were all the lifeboats. Fires had broken out in several places, and many of the troops on board
were killed or wounded. The New Zealand unit had one killed, seventeen wounded, and several
more slightly injured.Darvel until he was wounded in the attack on 11 February,
when he handed over command to Flight Lieutenant Begg.
The captain gave the order to abandon ship, but the state of the boats made it impossible. The fires were quickly brought under control, and then working parties from the Construction Squadron went below to fill in the scores of small holes with wooden plugs. Others set to work to repair the lifeboats and rigging and clear up the debris on the decks. There was no doctor on board, so medical orderlies cared for the wounded.
A naval officer, Lieutenant Commander Griffiths, RN, took over command of the ship and,
rather than wait for another attack, decided to risk steaming through the rest of the strait in
daylight. The passage was accomplished safely, and at the southern entrance a halt was made
to repair the damaged steering gear. Finally, at half past eight in the evening when welcome
darkness covered the ship, course was set for Darvel
was listing badly to port, and the Captain reported that she was sinking. All passengers and
baggage were crowded to the starboard side, and members of the Construction Squadron went
below and plugged more holes. After about two hours' work the leakage was brought under
control, and the ship eventually arrived off Darvel reached
On arrival at Marella. Although Japanese air
activity was by this time increasing over Marella sailed at six o'clock that evening, in one of the last convoys to get away from
Meanwhile in
At Mingaladon aerodrome on the outskirts of the city, No. 67 Squadron received adequate
warning of the enemy's approach and took off to intercept, in company with a squadron of the
American Volunteer Group which had arrived from Loiwing, in Radio telephone31 and Sergeant G. A. Williams32 were in R/T
For a first combat the results were impressive. In a moment Bargh was in amongst the Japanese fixed-undercarriage 96 and 97 type fighters, and immediately became involved in a confused series of most hazardous dogfights. It had been drilled into the pilots that their primary object was to shoot down the bombers, and Bargh, by his single-handed manoeuvres, succeeded in drawing the Japanese fighter escort away from the formation.
As in
In the meantime, with his aircraft shot full of holes, Bargh dived away from the enemy fighters,
flew out to sea, and regained height to await the return of the bombers. His windscreen had oiled
up but, nothing daunted, he took off one of his flying boots, wiped the perspex clean with his
sock, and turned in to attack the bombers as they came away from the target. Joined now by
Sergeant E. H. Beable33 at 17,000 feet, he dived on the enemy formation and succeeded in destroying one bomber and probably a fighter. Beable fired a long burst into a bomber which, last seen
trailing smoke, he claimed as a ‘probable’.
Sergeant W. Christiansen,34 though slightly later in sighting the enemy, attacked at the first
opportunity. His own words describe the combat:
‘I climbed to 16,000 feet and did a front-quarter attack, opening fire at 400 yards and breaking away at approximately 100 yards. I broke away to the front of the formation and repeated this attack. My windscreen was covered with oil, making it impossible for me to observe the results of my attacks. I did three more front-quarter attacks and then broke away as I couldn't see out of my front windscreen. I was firing at 12,000 feet when I saw another formation 1000 feet below me. I dived and did a climbing stern attack by pointing my aircraft at the formation and firing. I could not aim or see any results as by then visibility through my windscreen was nil. The formation headed out to sea in a north-easterly direction and I returned to base to refuel.’
The remainder of the squadron and the American Volunteer Group had a very satisfactory
total score for the day of thirteen enemy aircraft destroyed and several probables. Of these,
No. 67 Squadron was able to claim six destroyed and three probables without loss to themselves
—a highly creditable performance in their first encounter. Nevertheless, many of the bombers
had succeeded in getting through to the target and both
They did not have long to wait. About eleven o'clock on Christmas morning the warning
system reported 120 enemy aircraft heading for
This time, apparently somewhat shaken by their previous reception, the Japanese paid our
pilots the pretty (if back-handed) compliment of despatching some eighty fighters with their
raiding force, including a number of
Pilot Officer G. S. Sharp35 and Sergeant E. E. Pedersen,36 meeting a fierce attack by an almost
overwhelming number of Japanese fighters with height advantage, fought their way through
after shooting up three of them. Sharp forced-landed on
Meanwhile, Beable was making the most of the opportunities that came his way, and in three
separate attacks he blew up a Zero that was on his leader's tail and claimed a ‘possible’ and a
‘damaged’. From each of these combats he had to dive away to evade enemy fighters, but returned
to the fray until his guns would no longer fire. Sergeant J. G. Finn,37 who was with him at first,
was attacked before he could reach the bombers, but in turning he was able to fire a good burst
into the wing root of an enemy fighter; a bright flame leapt from its petrol tank.
The indefatigable Bargh was caught on the climb, but got a burst into a fighter which immediately began to trail smoke. He then had to dive to ground level before shaking off a Zero which
had got on his tail. By the time he had climbed back into the fray the enemy had disappeared
and he had to be content with one probable. Sergeant K. A. Rutherford38 raked a bomber but
was ‘jumped’ by three Zeros and had to dive away without a claim.
The Tomahawks of the American Volunteer Group had a field day and claimed twenty-one
destroyed, giving a total from all sources of twenty-seven destroyed, two probables, and two
damaged. Thus in the course of two raids the Japanese lost over forty aircraft out of some 180,
against which there had been never more than twenty-five British and American fighters. No. 67
Squadron lost Sergeants J. MacPherson,39 E. B. Hewitt,40 and R. P. McNabb41 (
The Japanese did not appear inclined to face a repetition of such fighting and
Back on the ground at
The Buffaloes were dispersed around the airfield and meals were brought round by truck, and although the pilots waiting for the next attack knew only too well the odds against them—and only those who have waited for the enemy in such circumstances can appreciate the sense of strain—there was never any indication of jumpiness. Before dawn the flight truck would roll up to the dispersal hut and yawning pilots would jump out to disentangle their flying gear from the heap on the bench. Outside, in the keen air of the early dawn, the silence would be split by the sudden crackle of Cyclone engines bursting into life, blue flames licking back from the motors as they were run up.
Rutherford, a sheep farmer from 42 developed the routine of a morning session of ‘Acey Deuce’, a
game very popular with the pilots of the American Volunteer Group. Other pilots, deciding
that an opportunity to sleep was not to be lightly tossed aside, would stretch themselves comfortably on a pile of parachutes and flying gear, while some would make the most of a chance to
repair equipment. Before long the mess truck would arrive with supplies of eggs and bacon,
soon to be sizzling in the frying pan. Then a rattle of cutlery and laughter as they gathered round
to breakfast from huge sandwiches composed of a fried egg on a slice of bacon held between
two planks of bread. The carefree manner, cheery banter, and spirit of comradeship among all
ranks gave their life something denied to those whose lot is cast in a more peaceful mould.
Because of the importance of defending 43
claimed a ‘flamer’ on the ground, the enemy aircraft firing back at him from its stationary position
as he flashed over it. The whole operation was over in a few minutes and the Buffaloes returned
without loss.
While on patrol down the Tenasserim over 44 crept up
on a single-engined two-seater aircraft. His first burst must have killed the observer as there
was no return fire; no evasive action was taken by the enemy aircraft, which caught fire and
crashed into the hills.
Towards the end of January the long looked-for and sorely-needed air reinforcements began
to arrive. The fighter strength was augmented by thirty-six Hurricanes which were distributed
amongst Nos. 17, 135, and 136 Squadrons; pilots for these squadrons, including several New
No. 113 Squadron also inflicted much damage on the enemy at this time. Six New Zealanders
flew with the squadron—Squadron Leader P. Duggan-Smith45 and Flight Sergeant J. Keys46
(pilots) and Sergeants A. M. Dingle,47 J. Beard,48 E. Brooking,49 and J. B. J. McKenzie50 (navigators). On 7 January, the night of its arrival at
On 24 January another night raid was made on
Operations now included attacks on enemy river traffic near Kado, north of
Throughout February the squadron carried out a variety of attacks and hit the enemy wherever
he could be found. River steamers, railways, barracks, troop concentrations and stores dumps
all received attention, until on 18 February, after a month of continual flying, the land threat
to Zayat Kwin made this airfield untenable and the detached flight was withdrawn to Magwe.
The squadron continued to operate from Magwe until 7 March, when the fall of
In the meantime, the fighters had been in action without respite. On 23 January the Japanese
attempted a surprise strafing attack on 51
damaged another. The next day the Japanese came again, evidently intent upon annihilating the
Allied air force at
Cooper, Sadler, Bargh, and Christiansen were patrolling above base at 18,000 feet, and this time had the height advantage, when an enemy formation of Army 97 bombers was sighted ten miles east-south-east of the base. All the enemy were shot down in the ensuing action. Sadler made two attacks on a bomber, which immediately dropped out of the formation and crashed in flames. His next attack also set fire to a bomber, which was claimed by two other pilots who finished it off. Cooper got a long burst into a bomber which blew up, but he received return fire in his own engine and it began to emit smoke and flames. He dived steeply with switches off and blew the fire out. Bargh followed up earlier successes by getting a ‘flamer’ after an attack pressed home to 100 yards. He saw all the other bombers in the formation going down, some in flames and some disintegrating with wings falling off. The last one he followed down had evidently received attacks from other fighters, as it blew up when he was about to attack it and crashed beside the railway line north-east of Pegu.
On the ground, however, the situation was rapidly deteriorating. The retreating British
Army sustained a severe reverse at the Sittang Bridge, and the way was open to
Between 23 and 29 January the Japanese, who for some time had concentrated on night bombing, attempted to annihilate the small Allied fighter force, using a total of 218 aircraft, most of them fighters. The Buffaloes, Hurricanes, and Tomahawks shot down some fifty of the enemy in six days; immediately, he returned to night operations. On 24 and 25 February the Japanese made a last attempt to claim air superiority, using a total of 166 aircraft; they lost heavily, thirty- seven bombers and fighters being destroyed, of which the American Volunteer Group shot down no fewer than twenty-four.
No. 67 Squadron was now reduced to six Buffaloes, while the newly arrived Hurricane
squadrons had also suffered severe losses. Living conditions were becoming more and more
primitive and regular food was hard to obtain. Some of the New Zealand pilots lived in a deserted
building on a peanut farm, where they contrived meals of half-cooked tinned sausages and water
melons, washed down with cocoa made with goat's milk and water from the Irrawaddy River.
Fortunately, some food parcels from home were rescued from
It was the beginning of the end.
On the following day there was no let-up, and raids continued with two waves of twenty-seven
bombers and ten fighters each. The early-warning system no longer functioned and the Allied
fighter force was all but overwhelmed. By midday the runways at Magwe were useless and many
of the remaining aircraft had been destroyed on the ground. That afternoon the four remaining
Tomahawks of the American Volunteer Group were flown out to Loiwing in
Next day the enemy again thoroughly pattern-bombed the runways at Magwe, and although
two of the three remaining Hurricanes intercepted the raiders, no enemy aircraft were shot down.
Our aircraft managed to get back on their aerodrome only by a miracle of airmanship. That
night the bomb craters were filled in sufficiently to allow such aircraft as could be made airworthy
to take off for Loiwing. The ground crews travelled overland in a motley collection of motor
transport in which they ran the gauntlet of Japanese army units from
Much has been written of the achievements of Fighter Command in the Battle of
Throughout the first phase of the campaign the lack of an adequate early-warning system had
been a source of constant anxiety. There was only one radar set in
On the ground the Japanese had swept all before them and in three months had conquered
1Sergeant T. S. Tanner; born
2Sergeant A. M. H. Fleming; born
3Flight Lieutenant R. C. Barclay, DFC;
4Wing Commander L. G. W. Lilly; born
5Sergeant D. S. Hunter; born
6Squadron Leader E. J. Henry; born Rangiora,
7Squadron Leader I. Julian, DFC;
8Squadron Leader E. C. Gartrell, DFC; RNZAF Station,
9Wing Commander W. G. Clouston, DFC;
10Squadron Leader J. N. Mackenzie, DFC;
11Squadron Leader J. R. Hutcheson, DFC;
12Squadron Leader C. W. Franks, MBE; born Leithfield,
13Pilot Officer R. S. Shields; born
14Flight Lieutenant C. B. Wareham, DFM;
15Warrant Officer B. S. Wipiti, DFM; born
16Warrant Officer W. J. N. Macintosh;
17Warrant Officer T. W. Honan; Takapuna; born
18Flight Lieutenant R. W. Macmillan; Mangakino; born
19Pilot Officer P. E. E. Killick; born
20Pilot Officer V. E. Meaclem;
21Pilot Officer G. L. Hesketh; born
22Master Pilot E. E. G. Kuhn, DFM;
23Flying Officer N. C. Sharp, DFC; born
24Pilot Officer E. W. Cox; born
25Flight Lieutenant H. J. Meharry; born Reefton,
26Pilot Officer L. R. Farr; born
27Flight Lieutenant P. D. Gifford, m.i.d.; Doyleston; born
28Flight Lieutenant J. Rees, BEM; RNZAF Station,
29Squadron Leader E. C. Smart; born NZ,
30Squadron Leader A. G. Begg; Dunedin; born Dunedin,
31Flight Lieutenant C. V. Bargh, DFC; Pihautea,
32Flight Lieutenant G. A. Williams, DFM;
33Flight Lieutenant E. H. Beable; Hangatiki, King Country; born
34Flying Officer W. Christiansen; born Frankton Junction,
35Squadron Leader G. S. Sharp, DSO;
36Pilot Officer E. E. Pedersen; born
37Sergeant J. G. Finn; born Winton,
38Flight Lieutenant K. A. Rutherford, DFC; Hawarden; born
39Sergeant J. MacPherson; born Otautau,
40Sergeant E. B. Hewitt; born
41Sergeant R. P. McNabb; born
42Warrant Officer P. T. Cutfield; Papatoetoe,
43Flying Officer E. L. Sadler; born Tynemouth, England,
44Pilot Officer P. M. Brewer; born
45Squadron Leader P. Duggan-Smith, DFC; born England,
46Flying Officer J. Keys;
47Sergeant A. M. Dingle; born
48Flight Sergeant J. H. Beard; Dunedin; born Dunedin,
49Warrant Officer E. Brooking;
50Warrant Officer J. B. J. McKenzie; Tamahere,
51Flight Lieutenant A. A. Cooper;
The occupations given are those on enlistment.
THE NARRATIVE was compiled from information supplied by members of
the units concerned and from documents made available by the T. M. O'Connell page 15 (top and bottom),
F. A. McCarthy pages 16 and 17, and K. A. Rutherford page 18 (top left and bottom).
The maps are by L. D. McCormick from material supplied by the
THE AUTHOR:
the type used throughout the series is
Aldine Bembo
which was revived for monotype from a rare book printed by aldus
in 1495 * the text is set in 12 point on
a body of 14 point
COVER PHOTOGRAPH
Men of 5 German Mountain Division
waiting to embark for
‘Why, I have spent all my life in trying to guess what was at the other side of the hill.’
The German Army records, war diaries and reports, even reports of telephone
conversations, are now lodged at
The studies in this number were prepared by the War History narrators engaged in the preparation of these volumes. They give a good idea of what happened on the other side of the hill.
Died of heart failure, Dismissed Early in
The Allied force, chiefly
At Platamon 21 NZ Battalion, commanded by Lieutenant-Colonel N. L. Macky, had dug in with orders to defend the coastal pass until instructed to withdraw. Macky was told that the country ahead of him was quite unsuitable for tank movement, and that he need only expect infantry attacks. Supporting 21 Battalion were the four 25-pounders of A Troop 5 NZ Field Regiment, commanded by Lieutenant L. G. Williams, and a section of engineers from 19 NZ Army Troops Company, commanded by Lieutenant F. W. O. Jones.
Such was the situation when General Boehme, Rose to Army Commander; committed suicide while awaiting trial as war criminal on charges of killing hostages
in the
The 2nd Motor Cycle Battalion from
The reconnaissance report, combined with the sound of demolitions that began at dusk and
seemed to get farther and farther away, led to the conclusion that the British were occupying
only the ridge near the castle and not the hills about it. The commander of 2 Motor Cycle Battalion decided to attack at first light next morning. Meanwhile General Veiel Transferred to Reserve in
During the night of 14-15 April 2 Motor Cycle Battalion formed up to attack the castle,
concentrating behind a ridge with the object of attacking the inland flank. Shelling from behind
the castle, an irritated diarist says, ‘plagued us, front and rear, right and left… things were
damned sour with us for a while’. In the morning, after a brief artillery bombardment, the
battalion moved forward, making good progress until it reached the forward slopes of the castle
ridge. Here a ‘murderous fire’ broke out, and the leading company suffered heavy casualties,
including the company commander. The companies on the west flank found unexpected opposition, and a reconnaissance patrol was sent out to determine 21 Battalion's left flank. This patrol
brought back the disconcerting information that the ridge was held as far inland as the village
of
Colonel Balck arrived to take command at two o'clock in the afternoon. He found that the
Motor Cycle Battalion had gone to ground in the tangled undergrowth, boulders and scrub
on the forward slopes of castle ridge. Balck gave instructions for the battalion to be withdrawn
and reformed. It was then to move out in a wide encircling movement to attack 21 Battalion
from above Awarded the Knight's Cross for the Pinios action. Described as a particularly dashing and versatile commander in
mobile operations: a commander above average in every respect, unshakeably cool. Committed suicide
Balck ordered the tanks to attack immediately. The whole of ⅓ Panzer Regiment pushed
to within 1200 metres of the castle and deployed to support the unit's light platoon of five Mark II
Meanwhile, 2 Motor Cycle Battalion had been attacking C Company 21 Battalion at Pandeleimon. Three of the four companies attacked, as the fourth company had been pinned down
in front of the castle until after dark when trying to disengage earlier in the afternoon. One
company swung well round over country that was ‘terribly difficult, mountainous and pathless,
with slopes of 700 metres to surmount’, and reached
The fight for the castle began at nightfall. End not yet in sight. Very fierce resistance, and terrible country.
In the meantime General Boehme had issued a Corps order stating that
Elements from 8/800 Brandenburg Regiment, a special unit largely recruited from Germans
familiar with foreign countries to undertake intelligence or sabotage tasks, were to outflank the
This operation could not be carried out owing to a heavy swell.
That night, 15-16 April,
Balck decided to attack again from front and flank. The 2nd Motor Cycle Battalion was to
re-attack
At nine o'clock in the morning of the 16th, following a deception attack at first light, the
bombardment started against the castle and surrounding field positions. On the flank the Motor
Cycle Battalion attacked with one company moving up behind
The tanks had been accompanied by engineers to help force a passage, and their story is well told by a participant:
The right-hand company of tanks forced its way forward through scrub and over rocks, and in spite of the steepness of the hillsides got to the top of the ridge. The country was a mass of wire obstacles and swarming with the enemy. In the thick scrub visibility was scarcely a yard from the tanks, and hardly a trace was to be seen of the enemy except an occasional infantryman running back. The tanks pressed forward along a narrow mule path. Many of them shed their tracks on the boulders, or split their track assemblies, and finally the leading troop ran on to mines … and completely blocked the path. A detour was attempted. Two more tanks stuck in a swamp and another was blown up on a mine….
Colonel Macky withdrew his battalion a few minutes before ten o'clock, and Balck signalled
to
The Germans tried to press the pursuit, but immediate advance was impossible as the tanks could not get down the castle ridge. The infantry, badly mauled, needed reorganising. The tunnel through which the railway passed the castle ridge almost at the edge of the sea had been so thoroughly blown that the engineers estimated it would take five days to clear. Actually temporary repairs were effected sooner, but as late as 20 April engineers reported that the tunnel kept falling in and no set time could be given for repairs. One company of tanks tried to get forward along the edge of the sea but found this impossible. In the end the tanks were towed over the ridge, such a slow process that only 25-30 tanks had been got across by eleven o'clock next day.
On 17 April 21 Battalion was joined by 16 Australian Brigade Group, for General Wilson
had now realised the danger to his right flank. Brigadier A. S. Allen, who took command with
the task of barring the way to
Balck's troops got away from a bad start:
The coast road was a quagmire as a result of the heavy rains, and was impassable. The tunnel
could not be repaired…. Tanks were moving forward … but all petrol for them had
to be manhandled up. Ground heavily mined … 149 wounded in hospital at
It was midday before the forward troops reached the Pinios at the east end of the gorge, followed
by the first of the tanks which had bumped down the coast from
Balck took the squadron under command and ordered it to press on along the northern bank. The tanks were ordered into the gorge, but found that the demolitions on the railway line had been so thorough that not even the engineers could promise an immediate passage. Two officers looked for a ford over the river so that the tanks could use the road on the south bank, and by swimming and wading found a passable spot.
A Mark II tank drove determinedly down the high, steep embankment into the water. It struggled through the water like a walrus, with nothing showing except its turret … the driver … was sitting up to his middle in water and the waves completely prevented him from seeing anything. Finally the tank clambered out on the other side, amid loud cheers from the spectators … now the leading five tanks crossed the river one after the other. Two missed the track and sank helplessly….
By nightfall only four tanks had crossed the river. Three of these were bogged in a swamp while trying to get round a demolition in the road, and the decision was made to halt for the night. Nothing had been seen of the British positions, but patrols found to their cost that the demolitions were covered by machine-gun fire. The Germans soon found, too, that the gorge was within range of British artillery, for scarcely had they—
… bedded down when there was a whistling through the air … everybody jumped for cover behind, under, and in the tanks…. The detonations echoed viciously, we thought the enemy was shelling us with super-heavy guns. More and more accurately did the shells fall… repeated almost hourly until morning … there were dead and wounded on both sides of the Pinios.
On the morning of the 18th one company from 11/304 Infantry Regiment crossed the river
on kapoc floats and was immediately put to work filling in the demolition that prevented the
tanks from advancing along the road to Tempe. Patrols from 8/800 Brandenburg Regiment
and a platoon from this company then attacked along the road, supported by the six tanks now
across the river. The squadron from 6 Mountain Division worked along the north bank. It was
approximately midday, and by this time troops from 6 Mountain Division, which had, unopposed,
crossed the tortuous mountain paths of
Largely because of 21 Battalion's resistance between the night of the 14th and the late morning
of the 16th, and the subsequent delays imposed by the skilful demolitions behind
One road from near the prison led up to
Every day for a week it had got hotter and now, Sunday the 25th, it was stifling. Paratroops
in their cumbersome uniforms were sweaty and ill at ease, and the alpine troops who had been
filtering into the area for the past two days (after a gruelling fight and a rough march from
Major-General Julius Ringel, commander of 5 Mountain Division and in command of all
troops on this front, favoured outflanking movements, but further delay was out of the question.
Ringel had under him a capable team of officers. Utz, who had the main role in the attack
on All of them won the Knight's Cross on
Utz had been asked to attack the day before but had refused. It was a formidable task, calling for heavy air and artillery support and careful preparation. He knew little about the enemy except that he appeared to be strong (he had given 3 Parachute Regiment a rough handling), clever at hiding himself (his guns, effective far beyond their numbers and weight, had still not been found), and a sharpshooter, as one reporter put it, who held his fire ‘like a hunter at his shooting stand until the quarry is close.’ The few positions already located in this close country were well constructed and wired and resolutely defended. Two New Zealanders captured in the early morning stated that they had been short of food and water for five days, but there was little encouragement in this for the paratroops in the valley could say the same.
Whatever Utz thought of his prospects, the Germans in the valley, alpine and parachute troops
alike, knew the impending attack would be hard. Their enemy came under the inclusive heading
of ‘Tommy’ and they had grown to respect him. ‘Never before’, a paratroop sergeant-major,
Karl Neuhoff, Neuhoff also fought (as a captain) against the New Zealanders at
* * *
The defenders were not picked marksmen as some of the Germans thought; most of them
here were not even trained infantrymen. They were, as the Germans faced them, 19 Battalion
on the right fringe of the assault; then a detachment, 180 strong, of
The attack from the valley was against
* * *
Ramcke, whose three weak battalions had scarcely more than the strength of one, was to
attack
But the attack could not wait. A platoon of infantry guns dropped shell after shell on Cemetery Hill, thinking it harboured a mortar. Then, in the early afternoon, Schrank personally led a company onto this feature. He found it unoccupied—as Heidrich's paratroops could have told him; for both sides had found it untenable and had left it for some days in no-man's-land-but on its bald crest he came under heavy fire and still could do nothing to silence the guns.
Ramcke's paratroops were able to get up close under cover of a ridge outside the defences. They drove off a counter-attack in the centre during the afternoon, then Gericke led his men through olive groves to the spur abutting the coast. They came under heavy fire but, with good support from their own guns and mortars, they pressed on and by four o'clock gained the crest, taking fifty prisoners. The newly won positions—the first real breach in the line—were strongly counter-attacked but the paratroops held. They could now enfilade the centre of the coastal sector from the north while Schury could do the same from the south.
Schury's battalion, however, was striking trouble. It was getting more than its share of enemy
shells, was raked with bullets from
Schrank's men had no time to think of such things. They were under fire from the olive
groves south of the village and from the cactus and aloe thickets and cottages on
These hammer blows seem to affect the New Zealanders like mineral baths. Frantic, hellish
fire keeps raking us whenever we raise our heads…. They even try a desperate counter-
attack on the left of No. 1 Company. They want at all costs to get out from under the
The success on the coast had meanwhile been used as a lever to loosen the whole of the defences
on that part of the front.
The line in the south, however, still held and the struggle there grew even harder. Utz threw in his last reserve, the small party of III Battalion, and called for more Stuka support. The dive- bombing tore a gap in the line, but it was quickly filled and could not be exploited. But the end was in sight. The defenders, finding Germans in the streets behind them, knew the battle was lost and began to withdraw. Alpine troops—both Schury's and Schrank's—followed up closely, but not recklessly. They were taught caution by incidents like the following, which one of them later described:
One fellow as tall as a tree climbs out of a slit trench. He has pulled two egg-shaped hand grenades. One of them explodes prematurely and takes off his left hand, but he still throws the second one to the feet of the Germans only three paces away.
With Pink Hill in their hands, Schrank's men gained relief from the fire that had plagued them
all afternoon and they pressed on into
At eight o'clock, not long before dark, 100 Mountain Regiment reported that elements of
II Battalion ‘had penetrated into
It is getting dark as we reach the southern edge…. Paratroops and mountain troops of another company join us; we strike no opposition as far as the church.
Suddenly the Tommy appears in and from all streets. He is met by rifle salvos and hand
In the town itself things go mad; everywhere bitter individual combats take place….
The story is taken up by a corporal of a machine-gun battalion:
… Our machine guns are one after another silenced… their crews all wounded or dead…. [the survivors] hold their positions… with grenades and pistols…. With a heavy heart the lieutenant decides to evacuate the town with his small group…. So we grasp our wounded comrades under the arms… and carefully withdraw them between the ruins of smashed houses…. Dripping with sweat, beaten and tired to death, we arrive … at the battalion outposts. Yet even the enemy draws back; he has had enough.
Heidrich's men were not supposed to have taken direct part in the attack on
We were firmly convinced that this was much more than a local counter-attack; it was a
general counter-offensive along the whole line which we had been expecting for some days.
The appearance of tanks confirmed this view and we were quite sure that the whole battle
was turning against us. The men had reached the limit of their endurance…. My commanding officer [Major Derpa] had just been killed… our morale was very low….
We were both amazed and relieved that the counter-attack, after clearing the town of
* * *
The New Zealanders had not, however, been driven from the village after their counter-
attack (by two companies of 23 Battalion and elements of the 18th and 20th, a patrol of 4 Mechanical
Transport Company, among others, and two light tanks of
* * *
Burghartswieser concluded:
In the early morning—the Tommy had disappeared—I combed through
Panzer Attack
in
from a German publication
from German publications
Gs
from Ge
Ruweisat
Ridge
The Left Hook at
Panzer Grenadiers in the Senio Bridgehead
‘With a view to dealing them a lethal blow and removing this perpetual threat to
the flank’, Field Marshal Rommel on 9 July sent a force against the New Zealanders
whose aggressive action was endangering the open southern flank of his defence line. This was
to be the final task for his German troops before they were withdrawn for a period of rest.
During the previous week, when the German-Italian army after its 400-mile advance from
The operation against the New Zealand Division had hardly got under way when the British
attacked unexpectedly along the coast, overrunning Sabrata and part of the
Between these northern and southern areas of operations Italian infantry had been steadily
advancing the line of the defences. This central sector was cut at right angles by a line of low,
unimposing ridges, running for some ten miles east and west and known as
Some hours before dawn on 15 July intense rifle and machine-gun fire broke out in the central
sector. At the headquarters of
Soon Italian infantrymen came streaming back in the darkness. Then, joining in this disorderly retreat, came some of the gunners who had been manning the heavier guns well behind the front line. The rumour was spread that Brescia Division's front had been pierced and that Pavia's defences were being attacked in the rear. By this time communication with both the Italian divisions'headquarters had broken down.
While awaiting reliable information from their liaison officers attached to the Italians, the German staff still held to the opinion that a strong raiding party had broken into the defences and was trying to fight its way out again. This opinion was maintained even when survivors of German anti-tank detachments reported in with the story that their positions had been overrun and many of their guns destroyed.
At dawn German anti-tank gunners protecting the battle headquarters of
Then, a short distance to the south of the area of this engagement, the Panzer Division's small force of tanks appeared escorting a column of about 250 prisoners from 22 NZ Battalion. The tank commander reported that enemy infantry had fought their way through his night laager, damaging several tanks, but that as soon as it had become light enough to operate, his surviving tanks had reformed and made a quick counter-attack, to which the infantry had surrendered after their anti-tank guns had been destroyed.
Having delivered their prisoners, the tanks took up positions to the south of Point 63 to intercept the enemy force on the ridge on the line of its anticipated withdrawal. Full daylight, however, revealed that the enemy's operations had been much more than a mere diversionary raid.
South of the ridge Brescia Division's defences had disintegrated except for some isolated posts
that had somehow survived the night attack. Farther to the north-east Pavia Division's sector
had been reduced to one strongpoint area by Point 64, on the eastern end of
On the north side of the ridge, where the demoralisation of the men fleeing from the forward areas had communicated itself to those in the rear, the Italian defences were in utter confusion. Few Italian officers could be found, so that the Germans had to take over and restore discipline. But even under threats of the severest punishment only a few of the men could be persuaded to re-occupy the infantry posts and gun positions.
After the first unsuccessful counter-attack against the British force on Point 63, the Germans
ordered that all possible fire power should be brought to bear on the ridge in order to force
In the middle of the morning
No further reinforcements were received by the defenders until much later in the day. The
21st Panzer Division, still fully engaged in the north against the Australian salient, had difficulty
in releasing any of its troops, but eventually sent off a small force of about one hundred men
with some artillery under the command of Colonel A. Bruer. Awarded Knight's Cross when acting commander of A private in 9 Uhlan Regiment in
Colonel Baade's force, with not so far to travel, arrived even later. With the order for his
recall,
Made aware of this misunderstanding by progress reports,
As these three groups of reinforcements—Bruer group from the north, 33 Reconnaissance
Unit and Baade group from the south—were converging on the central sector, British tanks
had been advancing slowly but steadily over the area to the south of
The situation was becoming grave. The British, now in clear possession of the ground to
the south of the ridge, were increasing their efforts to send supplies and reinforcements to the
troops holding it, and more than fifty British tanks were reported to be deploying over a wide
front.
With the sinking sun behind them the armoured cars of the reconnaissance unit, with the few remaining tanks of the Panzer Division, then drove east against Point 63 under a bombardment of all the available guns. Obscured by smoke and dust the armoured cars quickly broke into the defences, closely followed by the rest of the assaulting force. The defenders, infantry of 4 NZ Brigade, offered a determined resistance for the short time that their ammunition lasted but, once their anti-tank guns were silent, were forced to surrender.
As the prisoners, about 400 in number, were being rounded up, the area came under fire from
British tanks farther to the east—and also from Italian gunners on the north who had apparently
failed to follow the course of the action. Under this fire and with several armoured cars and
tanks damaged, the assaulting force was unable to advance past Point 63. Some of the troops
on the right wing, however, had passed to the south of the defended area and penetrated some
distance to the east, where they were met by the advance of a few British tanks. Falling back
in some confusion, these men were halted and reformed by Bruer group which was only now
moving up in support on the right flank. Still more to the south, Colonel Baade, having seen
the British tanks advancing, had halted his infantry to prepare a defence line when a firm order
from the Corps Commander, General Nehring, Commanded Afrika Korps in the summer offensive of
This second wave of the assault, commencing at dusk, coincided with a withdrawal of the
British tanks and carried the attack past Point 63 to subdue the final core of resistance round
the headquarters area of 4 NZ Brigade. Beyond this area the attack came under heavy artillery
and tank fire. Reduced now to fewer than a dozen armoured cars and tanks and about 200
infantry, the German force could make no more headway. As darkness fell the troops took
up positions for the night along the pipeline track that ran north-eastwards from the
Early in the morning of 16 July the assault was resumed with
For these few days the strength of the German-Italian army had been at its lowest; the men
were tired, equipment was worn, supplies and reinforcements were coming forward very slowly.
In the accounts of the battle for
Of the battle the
If the enemy had succeeded in capturing the Deir el Shein fortifications (a mile and a half
north of Point 63), the whole
It was most astonishing that the enemy could not exploit his penetration to a break-through by pushing his tanks forward….
After his shattering defeat at
The El Agheila position, which blocked the route around the shore of the Gulf of
The Marsa Brega-Maaten Giofer line of defended localities was occupied towards the end of
November by the Italian 21 Corps (
Reinforcements could not be expected from
Rommel had been ordered by
After a heavy artillery bombardment, the British attacked the defended localities south of
It was at this stage that Rommel, who had been apprehensive of such a threat from the first,
received warning that he was in danger of being encircled by an For this operation 2 NZ Division comprised 4 (British) Light Armoured Brigade and 5 and
During the morning of 15 December the German troops holding the high ground south-east
of
The increasing threat to the southern flank during the morning had caused
To avoid the threatened encirclement, Rommel decided to break contact on the night of
15–16 December and retire to
Towards midnight 90 Light Division, which was occupying hilly ground south of the Via
Balbia at New Zealand diaries credit 24 Battalion with 34 prisoners (some of whom were recaptured later), eight 50-millimetre
anti-tank guns, 25 spandau machine guns, seven cars, four trucks, and some other material. The battalion's casualties
were 14 wounded.
Meanwhile the situation farther inland, where fifty British tanks and some transport columns
had been reported in the rear of
After going about five miles this force met a unit of light tanks (New Zealand Divisional
Cavalry), which withdrew westwards after exchanging a few shots. About an hour later the
Germans became engaged with some tanks of 4 British Light Armoured Brigade and a large
column of transport (5 NZ Brigade Group), with artillery, to the south. Although shelled by
the artillery and pursued by the tanks, they passed rapidly across the front of this force and
succeeded in getting away to the north-west. In this encounter British diaries say that two German tanks were destroyed and that the
The pursuing British armour made
The New Zealand Division had succeeded in the evening of 15 December in getting behind
the whole of the German Afrika Korps; but it had to deploy in the darkness on unknown ground,
with the result that 6 Brigade, which had been sent north to block the road, had become separated
from the rest of the division by a gap of about six miles. While 90 Light Division had prevented
6 Brigade from reaching the road, along which
‘Things are going badly in
This officer joined the German Army as an officer cadet in The division took part in the campaigns in Major-general Dr. Fritz Polack,
General Polack's division had been on this part of the front for only three days. The Panzer
Grenadiers had recently come out of action in the Acting in the place of Field Marshal Kesselring, who had been seriously injured when his car was involved in an
accident on 23 October. Subsequently, as German Commander-in-Chief, von Vietinghoff negotiated the surrender
of all German forces in
Polack's division took over the front formed by
To the defence of this ground General Polack committed his 15th Panzer Grenadier Regiment,
one of his three regiments of infantry. This regiment had fought the 6th NZ Infantry Brigade
once before—in the heavy actions for the control of the hilltop village of
From the outset the Panzer Grenadier Regiment put into operation a policy of aggressive
defence. The thrusts of 6 NZ Brigade's 24th and 25th Battalions up the
The policy of aggressive defence created–as Polack intended–an impression in the minds
of the New Zealand troops that the bridgehead was strongly held. This was certainly not the
case. About 700 men, including supporting tanks and guns, had been put into the bridgehead
at first, but on the night of the 18th Polack, on orders from 76 Panzer Corps headquarters, When interviewed in
Most of the men withdrawn were in their new positions on the west bank of the river by the morning of the 19th. The battle outposts left behind in the bridghead reported a quiet day. Sixth Brigade patrols which tried to test the forward positions found the Panzer Grenadiers very much alert, and were immediately brought under well-directed spandau fire. Guns and mortars supporting the outpost defence lent a hand with effective bombardments of the New Zealand positions, particularly those of 25 Battalion. The New Zealanders retained the impression that the Panzer Grenadiers were still in strength on the ground beyond the embankment.
The attack Polack had been expecting opened at nine o'clock on the night of the 19th with a
heavy artillery barrage. The New Zealand Division was making a full-scale set-piece assault
from the
The attack overlapped both the Panzer Grenadier and 278 Divisions' sectors. Eight regiments
of field artillery laid down the line of creeping fire. Other field guns and about 100 medium
guns sought out the bridgehead gun, mortar and headquarters positions. Heavy mortars, machine
guns, and tanks assisted with diversionary and other tasks. Searchlight beams gave artificial
moonlight. Red tracer shells of Bofors guns fired above the heads of the attacking infantry
marked the lanes and directions of advance. The New Zealanders expected that their full-scale
effort would surprise the defence. They thought it would be the cheapest way of winning the
ground they wanted north of the
Polack's divisional artillery and mortars and the 76th Panzer Corps artillery acted with great
promptitude. As no fire came down on them in the early stages of the attack, they were free
to bring down the whole weight of their own fire on the New Zealanders. Heavy and accurate
concentrations of shells and mortar bombs fell on the 6th Brigade's forming-up areas on the
Forward Defended Localities.
For two hours the wide and deep barrage moved forward from the vicinity of the railway
embankment. The guns then turned their attention to the sectors where the attack was to be
made. About 11.30 p.m. the second phase began. The wall of fire crept towards the la Palazza-
As far as can be ascertained only ordinary HE shells were used in the barrage. The second phase actually followed
an arranged pause.
For the Panzer Grenadiers it became a matter of getting back. Old soldiers, taking their weapons with them, showed remarkable skill in making their way across the enemy-held ground, through the curtain of fire along the river and the minefields to the security of the new line on the western bank. Most of these men were back in the new line by midday on the 20th. The new soldiers —recent reinforcements—did not give so good a performance. Houses and slit trenches had given good protection even against the tremendous bombardment. Losses from shellfire had not been heavy. But the morale of many of the new men had been smashed. These were the men who did not return. General Polack thought they should have done better:
If the enemy penetrates the positions or breaks through, there are always opportunities for men to get back from enemy-occupied territory next day or next night. In the daylight a situation is never so hopeless as it seems at night.
About 2 a.m. the New Zealanders had closed up to their objectives towards the east bank
of the
To Polack the whole operation was a most satisfactory success for his 15th Panzer Grenadiers.
Their aggressive defence had deceived the New Zealanders into making a major attack, The New Zealanders knew that there had been a withdrawal by troops of 278 Infantry Division from the northern
outskirts of ‘We counted 94,000 shells in three and a half hours’, Polack later told a New Zealand officer. In point of fact, the
Allied artillery could ill afford to expend large quantities of ammunition at this time. ‘29 Panzer Grenadier Division Report on Fighting on the Italian Front, 16-20 December 1944’, incorporated in a
pamphlet entitled ‘Preparations for Defensive Campaign in Daily reports of Commander-in-Chief, South-West, to OKH (High Command of the German Army), December
‘29 Panzer Grenadier Division in Personal reports on German officers.The German sources used are:
The Senio line remained secure until
WHEN Captain Upham and I were in Athens in April 1952 as the New Zealand
representatives at the unveiling and dedication of the Memorial erected by the
Greek people to soldiers of the British Commonwealth who died in Greece, we found
that our men had left a very great reputation. Queen Frederika said to me: ‘The Greek
people think your soldiers were all gentlemen. They were brave and kind.’ This reputation was earned by the New Zealand Division, which fought with high credit in the
brief campaign of 1941, by the men who escaped after capture then or in Crete, and
who wandered for months or years before getting back to Egypt, being recaptured or
perishing, and by the volunteers who returned to Greece on desperately hazardous
‘Special Service’. It is a great satisfaction to put on record the services of some of these
brave soldiers.
New Zealand should be grateful to the Greek people who helped and sheltered her
men regardless of the deadly penalties they risked.
IN 1 Chief Engineer 2 and A. Edmonds3 and, interviewing them separately, told them that General
Sir Harold Alexander, GOC-in-C
Early next day Major C. M. Woodhouse, an English officer who already had worked in
occupied Harling—was to be done quickly, otherwise it would be
of no benefit. He went on to describe the general purpose of the operation. A main supply
route of the Axis was the single-track railway down the centre of
Keeble then gave details of the proposed operation. The target was one of three railway viaducts
in the
Both officers were rushed through the normal three weeks' parachute course in two days.
The commander of Harling, Colonel E. Myers of the
On the night of
The planes set off again for
The plane Edmonds was in reached Mount Giona and after a few sweeps picked up the light from three fires grouped in a small basin. Although it was not the expected signal the men jumped. They all landed away from the fires and, after hiding their parachutes and flying kit, cautiously edged their way to the fires. There they found a Greek lieutenant, a Cypriot soldier and a young lad from the nearby village. These three had heard the aircraft on the first fruitless flight and on the second night had lit fires in the hope that something—food, ammunition, anything at all— would be dropped; but they had not expected men. They all huddled around the fire until dawn when they collected the stores containers. The first big disappointment was to find the wireless smashed. Once all the stores were accounted for they had a closer look at the country and wondered how they had missed injury in landing on such mountainous terrain. The young lad, Andreas, took them to a nearby cave, perfectly concealed, where they settled in. The day wore on but still there was no sign of the other parties.
Later in the day the leader, Woodhouse, went off with Andreas to Amfissa, an Italian garrison
town not far away, where he intended to make a reconnaissance and, if possible, send a runner
to
There was nothing to do now but wait until Woodhouse came back. The days dragged by slowly and there was still no word of the other two parties. Then on the seventh day they heard that a British party was on its way to the camp; the news was like a tonic after a week of seclusion and enforced inactivity. In the afternoon Hamson and Wilmot arrived and all gathered around eager to know what had happened to them. Like Woodhouse's party, they had jumped over fires in a densely wooded valley but had had to wait until dawn before they could come together. The country was very broken and the stores containers fell over a wide area. People from the local village were out early collecting the stores: they looked upon them as booty and refused to give them up. Some of the containers were returned later, mostly the explosives. A few of the village children ate the explosives thinking they were sweets and became very sick. The area was not safe, and when Italian troops came looking for the parachutists they moved on. Before doing so they buried all the gear they had managed to salvage. Their wireless set, like Woodhouse's, had been badly damaged in the drop.
The leader of a small band of brigands, Karalivanos, who had attached himself to Myers' party, was introduced. A short, strongly built man, with a heavy black beard, Karalivanos was dressed in Greek national costume and had the appearance of an apparition from a bygone age. His jacket was heavily embroidered, he wore knee breeches and stockings, and even his shoes had the traditional black pom-poms. The finishing touches were added by the armoury he had wrapped around his body—grenades, pistols, ammunition and knives—and by the rows of medals on his chest.
With the exception of Woodhouse who was still away on reconnaissance, the two parties
now joined up. The men had hardly settled in to their new camp when they were startled by
an old man bursting in on them. ‘We heard the rattle of stones on the slope above us and like
a whirlwind a vigorous old man came into our camp, talking Greek with great speed and volume.
Then suddenly the Greek stopped and he staggered us by saying with a marked American accent,
“How are you, okay.” ‘This newcomer hopped excitedly around the camp and never stopped
talking for a moment. He was Nikos Beis from Lithoriki, a village about eight hours to the
south, and when he had heard of the British party he had come to see if he could help. A rifle
rested in the crook of his arm and the pockets of his ragged coat bulged with ammunition. A
civilian cap was pulled well down on his head; he wore an old-fashioned pair of military breeches
with puttees wound around his legs from the knees to just above the ankles, and his low shoes
left the top part of his feet exposed. As a young man he had spent ten years in
Niko had a very poor opinion of Karalivanos and went to no trouble to hide it. At the time Karalivanos was sulking, and it was plain to everyone that his attachment to the party was purely for what he could get out of it. When he saw that there was no hope of free goods, he stopped helping in the work of the camp and became more and more obstructive. Niko exploded with wrath when he heard Karalivanos saying that there were no mules in the locality. ‘Mules,’ he said, ‘Why, there are plenty. I'll get as many as you want.’ He left the camp immediately and promised to be back in a few days with a whole team.
Woodhouse came back from Amfissa and shortly afterwards, on 9 October, there was an air drop of supplies. The high wind scattered these over a wide area. Karalivanos and his men went to work with a will but their eagerness slackened off when they found they were collecting explosives, not food. The noise of the planes brought Italian troops to the locality searching for parachutists and also questioning the villagers. With the idea of collecting the stores left behind, Karalivanos tried to panic the party into leaving, but Myers had the measure of the man and refused to be rushed. The Italians kept within range of the villages and did not venture too far into the mountains.
Baba Niko returned proudly leading a string of fifteen mules. ‘And,’ he said, ‘there will be fifteen more along in the morning.’ At dawn next day he started out with the first section of the party for a place he knew which was much more secure than the present one; a few hours later the second section followed with the rest of the mules. Myers and Woodhouse remained to await the arrival of the second team of mules. All this activity was maddening to Karalivanos as he sullenly stood by, thinking of what he could have purloined and how he had missed. He called his band together and they all walked away—a good riddance, everyone thought. But they had not finished with brigands. Another one, Barfas, arrived about this time and was taken into the party; he seemed to be a better type and more reliable than his predecessor.
The journey through the mountains was hard. The guides kept away from villages, making
wide detours through the wild country. There was no let-up in the steady, yet exhausting, pace
of the guides as they plunged down into valleys and climbed up steep hillsides. Heavy mist
covered the mountains, and it was only by calling out that the parties managed to reassemble
in the afternoon. Another recruit was added to the party when Baba Niko introduced Mikhali
Khouri, a Palestinian Arab soldier, who had been left behind in
Khouri left almost immediately to search for food. It snowed heavily in the night, and next morning the party continued its journey in the cold and mist. When Khouri joined the party again, the men noticed that he had taken the silver stars off his shoulders and had placed three chevrons on his arm. His real rank was private, but evidently he felt that he owed it to his numerous Greek friends to hold on to some pretence of rank.
The new camp was on the opposite side of Mount Giona, near the village of Mavrolitharion. Myers was specially anxious to find out if there were guerrillas fighting in the mountains and, if so, where. But the local Greeks did not know of any. It looked as if the party would have to recruit its own supporting force from the nearby villages. In the meantime there was plenty of work to be done on the stores. Everyone helped in cleaning and checking the arms and explosives. Barnes and Edmonds supervised the handling of the explosives and began breaking them down to more convenient sizes. Each day was fully taken up in these tasks.
Work was forgotten when a messenger from Stromni, the nearest village, came running up to warn them that three hundred Italians were at a place not three hours away looking for the party. The men watched the flat below and saw the Italians approaching and then pitching camp. It was dangerous to stay. Baba Niko again came to the rescue; he knew of an excellent hiding place about an hour away. Before moving, the party hid the stores and explosives near the cave and covered up all tell-tale signs of habitation. Sidling along the north-west slope of Giona, they could see that the Italians had thrown a cordon around the mountain. The new hiding place was a grass-covered ledge perched high on the mountainside and aptly called ‘The Eagle's Nest’.
Myers, Hamson and Yianni, of Stromni village, left immediately on a reconnaissance of the three viaducts. They moved at night and during the day were in well-concealed positions with a good view of the country. From the start they used code-names of their own making for the viaducts so as not to give an inkling of their intentions to the Greeks around them. Papadia was known as ‘The Priest One’, Gorgopotamos as ‘The George One’, and Asopos as ‘The Soapy One’.
Of all the countries in
Within a few days Myers returned, and to an intent audience related his observations. Asopos viaduct was in extremely difficult and precipitous country. It was perched over a sheer gorge with tunnels at either end and there was no easy access; it also had a strong garrison and reinforcements were not far off. A surprise attack was out of the question, and altogether the prospects for a quick and successful demolition by a small force were poor. Papadia viaduct was near Asopos, but the approaches to it were too wide and there was no cover for a force to creep up to a convenient attacking place. It was heavily garrisoned and had quick communication with reinforcements in the neighbourhood. Gorgopotamos viaduct, eight miles north of Asopos, looked the best proposition of the lot. There was good access sufficiently open and yet well enough covered to allow an attacking force to operate. Likewise the line of retreat was quick. The nearest reinforcement was at Lianokladi, several miles to the north, while the Papadia and Asopos garrisons were even farther away to the south. There were about eighty men in the Gorgopotamos garrison and it was likely that, despite the fortified defences, a small force could capture the viaduct in a surprise attack. Gorgopotamos viaduct became the target.
Myers conferred with Barnes and Edmonds, gave them technical details of the viaduct, and
placed Barnes in charge of the demolition party. Barnes estimated the stock of explosives at
five hundred pounds and calculated that it would be enough for the task, allowing a very generous
safety margin. Lt-Col Edmonds comments: ‘Invariably when planning a demolition we calculated the minimum charges required,
then, reckoning that once we reached the target we must be certain there were no hitches, we would double the
charge to allow for them being faultily placed in the haste of the operation. If explosive was available we might
even double up on those charges. ‘When lecturing the
News arrived that Colonel Zervas, a well-known Greek officer, was leading a band of guerrillas in the Valtos region on the west side of the
The two sapper officers studied a blueprint of the Gorgopotamos viaduct and also a photograph
showing the Orient express crossing it. In length it was 674 feet and it stood 105 feet above the
river. It consisted of seven steel spans supported by four stone and two steel piers. Barnes and
Edmonds decided to cut the higher of the two steel piers near its base and so bring down two
of the spans. By cutting a section out of one side of this pier, the spans would fall to one side
and become twisted so much out of shape that it would be impossible to use them again. If there
was enough time the second steel pier would also be cut. Barnes set the party a rigorous preparation and training schedule. The explosives were made malleable and converted into smaller sizes.
This was a long and tedious job at which everybody took a turn. Finally the explosives were
tied to boards for better carrying and handling. From a farmer who knew the viaduct it was
learned that the steel legs of the pier were in L-shaped sections. A dummy pier leg was fashioned
There were rumours of another British party somewhere in the mountains but they were not
definite enough to identify it as that led by Cook. To the surprise and joy of all, on 14 November
Cook and his three men walked into the camp. Apart from the company, four more men were
a welcome addition to the little sabotage party. But even more welcome was the news that Cook
had got in touch with a band of guerrillas led by one Ares and had been escorted on the way
by them. On the night that the others had parachuted into
The guerrillas—or Andartes, to give them their Greek name—who had come with Cook stood
in groups around the camp. Their ages ranged from 18 to 35; they were strongly built and
nearly all were bearded. They were poorly dressed in a collection of old and ragged uniforms
and many were barefooted. Their arms were an assortment of all types of rifles, though a few
carried captured
On 17 November Woodhouse came back with more good news. He had reached Valtos in the record time of six days and without difficulty had found Zervas and his band of Andartes. At the time Zervas had an Italian battalion bottled up in a narrow gorge and was picking them off until the inevitable arrival of reinforcements would force him to withdraw. So keen was he to help the British party that he called the action off, and after selecting forty-five of his best men, left immediately for Mavrolitharion which, by forced marches, was reached in eight days. On his Valtos journey Woodhouse heard of a British party staying with a guerrilla band and, as he had expected, found Cook and the three others. He vouched for them to the leader, Ares, who had been somewhat suspicious of them, and also induced him and his band of eighty to join the intended operation.
Colonel Zervas, who had accompanied Woodhouse, was introduced. He was then over fifty
years old, was of short build and inclined to stoutness; his beard was long and like his hair, already
greying, was well groomed. He wore a clean and well-kept khaki uniform and also a small cap
of the same colour. In manner he was calm and assured and instinctively he commanded the
respect of all who met him. Zervas was well known in
On the way to Mavrolitharion where Ares and his guerrillas were billeted, the British party
was given a great ovation by the villagers and had their first sight of Ares. He was poles apart
from Zervas. Short and of slight build, Edmonds comments that Ares ‘filled out amazingly during the next two years when he wore out saddles instead
of boots.’
Ares joined the Communist party in the pre-war days and went to
The two guerrilla leaders agreed to combine for the attack on the viaduct and Zervas was placed in charge. This was the first time the two had ever met, and it was the only time during the whole occupation that they combined in a common action. Zervas and Ares sent their men to reconnoitre the viaduct, and when they came back Myers worked out plans for the final assault.
The attack on the garrison was to be by night, and if possible by surprise. Two parties of
eight Andartes each were to cut the railway and telephone lines and were to remain to cover
the demolition and hold up reinforcements until the withdrawal signal, a green Very light, was
given. The main force of a hundred men was to attack at 11 p.m. on 25 November. Mikhali
The move to the Gorgopotamos viaduct began on 24 November. The whole force, with the exception of Ares and a few of his men, moved off that morning for the assembly point on top of Mount Oiti. Ares had a reason for delaying his march as the men found out later from Barker, who had stayed with him. A man from a neighbouring village was accused of sheep stealing and Ares summoned all the villagers to the square to witness the trial. In villages to which Ares had access, he had dissolved the civil police and had undertaken to maintain law and order himself. Ares thrashed the man mercilessly with his leather whip until he was forced to confess. Ares then drew his pistol and shot him through the head. He told the people that was how he dealt with wrongdoers.
The trudge up the mountain was exhausting and Edmonds marvelled at the way Zervas, singing jazzy songs, led his men through the falling snow. The weather worsened and by the time they reached the top at four in the afternoon there was a howling blizzard. The soldiers were glad to creep into the cramped shelter of an old derelict sawmill while the Andartes sheltered in the timber stacked outside. During the night a fire broke out in one of the stacks, caused no doubt by a careless Andarte trying to keep warm. Everyone turned out to fight the fire and after an hour's frantic effort it was put out. Fortunately the fire did not go near the explosives, while the leaden sky and the falling snow hid the blaze from the enemy. Next morning the two guerrilla leaders with Myers and Woodhouse left, making a rendezvous for the main party for one o'clock at a spot about half an hour from the viaduct. All were there on time. It was bitterly cold and everyone kept warm by stamping around the small plateau, swinging their arms and blowing on their hands.
Just on dusk Myers despatched the two parties who were to cut the telephone and railway lines. An hour after darkness the rest of the party moved down to the flat. The moon was not up; in pitch dark the silent men groped their way down the slope, keeping contact by placing their hands on the shoulders of those in front or by holding on to the tails of the mules. Later on the moon gave light, but fortunately there were enough clouds in the sky to keep it from getting too bright. The force stopped at the source of the Gorgopotamos stream—three large springs flowing from the base of the cliffs—and was here split up into the prearranged teams. While the two attacking parties moved quietly off, the demolition party unloaded the explosives from the mules and arranged them into carrying loads. With Yianni of Stromni village acting as guide, the party reached its assembly point before zero hour. Here they were to wait for the signal announcing the capture of the garrison.
Suddenly there was a roar of fire—the attack had started. The Andartes opened up with everything they had and for ten minutes there was a deafening din. The firing died down to surge up
‘We had hoped for surprise but the garrison was alert.’—Comment by Lt-Col Edmonds.
Barnes cut the wire around the base and, regardless of possible mines, he and the others ran to the pier. In the manner so often rehearsed the three sapper officers and their assistants placed themselves by the pier legs ready to tie the charges. But the frames to which the charges were attached refused to go into the leg section of the pier. To their dismay they found that the leg sections, instead of being L-shaped as they had been told, were more like a square U. They cursed underneath their breath as they ripped the charges off the frames; they could still do the job but it would take longer. Working like madmen, they packed the charges inside the leg sections and within half an hour had finished. They paused for an instant when they noticed that the firing had died down on both banks. Then, carefully and quickly they fixed the detonators and fuses in two places on the rings of explosive fuse connecting the charges. Barnes blew a whistle warning the assistants to take cover. At that instant a red flare shot up from the south bank. The garrison had been overcome. But there was no signal from the north bank; it was heard afterwards that the officer there was immobilised by a leg wound and did not get word of success from his men who were busily collecting loot.
Barnes and Edmonds struck the fuse caps, waited until they were well alight and then dashed for cover about twenty yards away. Flattened out against the ground, they were shaken by the sudden tremendous blast and by the thousands of pieces of red hot metal flying in all directions. As soon as the last echo had died away, they were on their feet again and were delighted to see that two of the spans were down and that one was twisted completely out of shape. The remains of the pier stood at a rakish angle with eight feet cut from its base.
There was still time for more work. Charges were fixed to the span which was not twisted
and also to the second pier. Glancing over to the north end of the viaduct from which they
heard a voice, they were happy to hear Myers calling out, ‘Congratulations, good work.’ Shortly
afterwards Woodhouse, from the west side of the stream, yelled a message to them: ‘Reinforcement train has arrived from
ASOPDUCT
The retreating men were dead tired. They dragged themselves up the mountain slope; often they fell down exhausted and at the limit of endurance. Some even fell asleep. Those who were on their feet helped and urged the others on. Edmonds describes the climb: ‘As I began to climb my system reacted to the unusual exertions of the past forty-eight hours. My legs suddenly became heavy and the strength seemed to flow out of my body. I was compelled to sit down utterly exhausted. I could have easily thrown myself down and gone to sleep.’ On his frequent pauses to rest Barnes watched the Andartes struggling up the slope and admired their endurance: ‘It is a tribute to Greek Andarte endurance that these Andartes, for the most part badly clothed, badly shod (many barefooted except for a piece of cloth or goat hide) accomplished the descent and ascent of Mount Oiti, 5,000 feet high, and walked mostly through deep snow for 25 to 30 hours in all. This included carrying their arms and a three hours battle at Gorgopotamos bridge. One hurried meal was all the food they had in this period.’
Thus ended the first organised attack in occupied
At the sawmill the tired men slept the clock round. When they awoke they found that Baba
Niko, highly delighted at their success, had a big meal ready for them. The rest over, the whole
force moved back to Mavrolitharion, where it broke up into separate groups. Ares and his guerrillas were the first to leave. A special farewell was given to Baba Niko before he returned to
his village. All were sorry to see him go. Barnes paid this tribute to the old man: ‘Here we left
our friend who for two months by cajoling, threats and visits to villages had obtained our food
from the terror-stricken villagers. He was our quartermaster, cook, safe guide and counsellor. He
never once failed us in a task which I now know to have been well nigh impossible in those
circumstances.’ Myers and his party attached themselves to Zervas and started off with him to
his headquarters in western
This was the first step on their way back to Egypt. They had accomplished their task and all were now keen to rejoin their units. Woodhouse, Marines, and two wireless operators were to stay on. On 12 December the remainder of the party left for the coast to meet the submarine which had been promised before they had left Egypt. They were at the rendezvous in time but the submarine never came. The trip to the coast was difficult enough but the one back to Zervas' headquarters was even more so. Barnes described their hardships: ‘This was for all of us the hungriest and most uncomfortable three weeks in our lives as we carried all our gear—we had no mules–travelled mostly at night in bad weather, and food was scarce indeed in Epirus.’
In the weeks which followed the men felt frustrated and out of temper with the authorities
in Egypt, beginning to doubt whether they were making a genuine effort to help them. Their
life was now one of run-and-hide from village to village to keep clear of the searching Italians.
The winter was severe and all suffered intensely from the cold. Myers went down with a very
bad attack of pneumonia and his condition was critical for some time. Meanwhile Zervas was
active in carrying out raids on the Italians. Wireless communication was regularly maintained
with 4 was parachuted into
Even before the Gorgopotamos party arrived in
After the saboteurs had received orders to stay in
With the arrival of
WHEN the first sabotage party dropped into Washing, to the proposed
operation.
Three sapper officers were already on their way into 5 (5 Field
Regiment) who was working with Colonel Psarros, leader of an Andarte band, in the Parnassos-Giona locality. Sergeant Bob Morton6 (
Other New Zealanders working with Edmonds were Pte Lou Northover7 (19 Battalion),
Corporal Dick Hooper8 (I General Hospital), and Driver Charlie Mutch9 (4 Reserve MT Company). Though they had tried hard to escape from
Edmonds moved his headquarters to Anatoli, which at an altitude of over 6500 feet is the
highest village in
Built on a gradient with a curve, the viaduct, 330 feet above the stream bed, was awe-inspiring in the way it spanned the sheer gorge. Its main arch had a span of 262 feet. On each side of the gorge the track disappeared into tunnels; the distance between them was 600 feet. The only approach was down narrow tracks leading over the tunnels. During the day the tracks were open and in full view of the garrison; at night the whole area was swept by searchlights and it was almost impossible to dodge the beams. But if an attacking party managed to get over this bottleneck of the narrow tracks, it would have plenty of room to spread out and so would be less vulnerable. Edmonds knew that a direct attack would be extremely difficult and dangerous. But it was by no means impossible. If the attack was planned properly and carried out resolutely by a well-armed force, it had a good chance of success.
Two days after the reconnaissance the three sapper officers, Captains Pat Wingate and Keith Scott and Lieutenant Harry McIntyre, arrived at Anatoli. Myers also came to the headquarters to see Edmonds about the demolition of the viaduct. The Brigadier said that its destruction could not be put off any longer and that he personally would direct the whole operation. The actual demolition was to be left to Edmonds. After briefing the three sapper officers, Myers and Edmonds left for Mavrolitharion to finalise arrangments with Ares for Andarte support.
Before they reached Mavrolitharion the two officers received the disconcerting news that Ares had captured the Andarte leader, Colonel Psarros, and had ordered him and his band to join ELAS. Colonel Psarros' band was one of the few supported by the British, and Ares had broken his undertaking not to molest other approved and trustworthy Andarte forces. The Brigadier was upset by this sudden bad turn but could not move Ares. The breach of faith was flagrant and Myers had no option but to hit Ares where he felt it the most: he recommended to Middle East headquarters that all supplies to him be stopped. The situation was very delicate and required careful yet strong handling. Although the time was hardly opportune, Myers had several discussions with Ares about the destruction of the viaduct. Edmonds reports:
‘With the Brigadier I attended several conferences with Ares and often as we set off for his H.Q. we wondered what their outcome would be. On one occasion when we were prepared for a rough house as Ares appeared to be getting a bit desperate, on the Brigadier's orders I instructed a member of our party to call on us on some pretext an hour after the conference started, to see if all was well.’
In the end Ares agreed to take part in the attack on the viaduct. But he had not reckoned on the decision of the EAM Central Committee which ruled that its army, ELAS, was not to be used in the operation. It was useless for Myers and Edmonds to argue that there was a reasonable —if not good—chance of success. Many years after the event General Sarafis, commander of ELAS, endeavoured to justify the decision:
‘Then he [Myers] spoke about the destruction of the Asopos bridge, which had been ordered
by H.Q.
Nor was a feint to distract the garrison and give the experts time to destroy the bridge likely to succeed, since the garrison covered the bridge with its fire; and moreover, reinforcements would come quickly from nearby garrisons before we could manage to carry out the work of demolition…. I explained that, as military commander of ELAS charged with the direction of operations, I was of the opinion that the action had no chance of success…. We stated that after discussion with the officers who had made the reconnaissance, we found the operation could have no chance of success…. Colonel Eddie [Brigadier Myers] did not agree with us, said that he considered the operation feasible.’
The special service agents at Edmonds' headquarters did not take the news kindly: ‘The first
reaction of our party to the final news that ELAS would not take part in Washing was to curse
wholeheartedly. The second was to refuse to admit that our plans were frustrated, and was
expressed by each man by the words, “Let's damned well do it on our own.” ‘Stott and Captain
Geoffrey Gordon-Creed, a British officer on the Mission staff, asked Edmonds if they could see
Brigadier Myers and volunteer to do the sabotage by themselves. The Brigadier listened to them,
then turned to Edmonds and asked him what the chances of success were. ‘The only way it
could be done by stealth,’ Edmonds replied, ‘would be by following the stream down the gorge.
That is, practically speaking, impossible and because the Germans regard it as impossible a determined party just might succeed.’ At that time Edmonds was right when he said the passage
down the gorge was impossible; the local Greeks regarded it as such and the Germans, after an
inspection of both ends of the gorge, had reached the same opinion. The Germans were sure
that no one could possibly get through the gorge and were perfectly satisfied that this natural
barrier was better than any man-made defence. The Brigadier told Gordon-Creed and Stott to
go ahead, and wished them success in their ‘impossible’ task.
An hour later Gordon-Creed and Stott set off with George Karadjopoulos to reconnoitre the gorge. Edmonds was keen to take an active part in the actual demolition, but the Brigadier reminded him that he now had the responsibility of directing and co-ordinating all operations in his area and so was not free to go on any particular operation he liked. Edmonds, although disappointed, knew the truth of this and consoled himself with the thought that he would still be able to help the party from his headquarters.
The reconnaissance party was soon back with the report that they had been stopped by a sixty- foot waterfall a short distance inside the chasm. Ropes were needed to help the party through this and other obstacles. Gordon-Creed and Stott found that the gorge deserved its bad reputation, and they realised that it would take them days to reach the viaduct. For the most part the gorge was only a few yards wide, with sheer cliffs rising to a thousand feet above the stream. The sun never entered the gorge, and the only passage for most of the way was through the freezing cold water or along the steep cliff sides. The heartbreaking barriers were the waterfalls, with side walls worn smooth as glass, and the deep pools into which the water fell. Loose rocks from the cliff faces kept shooting down into the stream. In one place the gorge widened into a dry patch and this spot was selected as the camping place.
Every available piece of parachute rigging was collected and plaited into ropes thick enough
to grasp; altogether there was about 340 feet of rope. On 21 May a fresh party of eight men
left to make the attempt. Gordon-Creed was in command and Stott was the guide. The other
The following day Stott and Morton went ahead and came back with the report that they had reached a third waterfall. It had a sheer drop of over forty feet, was about fifteen feet wide, and had perpendicular sides worn smooth by the water. All the rope had been used and further progress was impossible without its aid; also they wanted packs that could be carried on the head when they were forced to wade through deep water. It was feared also that it would be impossible to go beyond the third waterfall without the benefit of more reconnaissance work from both the north and south clifftops. So far they had not got within sight of the viaduct although they had gone a good two-thirds of the way down the gorge. The stores and explosives were carefully cached in a dry place and by 28 May the party was back at Edmonds' headquarters. ‘When they returned to my headquarters (Edmonds wrote) their appearance told the tale of their hardships. Their knees were cut and bruised from scaling the falls, their clothes were torn and ragged and most of them looked worn and exhausted.’
While waiting for ropes, grappling irons, and other equipment from Animals. The purpose of the operation was to divert and
occupy the enemy while the Allies landed in
On 15 June Stott, Mutch, and Khouri left Anatoli carrying heavy rucksacks packed with ropes,
climbing irons, axes, a rope ladder and various other stores. The plan was for these three to
force their way through the remainder of the gorge, and as soon as they had succeeded Stott would
send a message for Gordon-Creed, McIntyre, and Scott to join them. Under Stott's direction
the small party went about its task quickly and resolutely. ‘Our first day,’ writes Mutch, ‘was
‘I got down the big waterfall, found it was the last and suddenly when I rounded the bend I
came face to face with “Mrs. Washing” herself. There was a lot of activity going on and workmen
were swarming over the viaduct strengthening it to carry heavier loads and making a deuce of
a din, rivetting I think. They have scaffolding erected all over it and ladders leading up from the
bottom. I was taking all this in when I looked down at the stream and saw two workmen only
about 10 yards away from me working with their heads down getting stones out of the stream.
Luckily they didn't see me and I quickly got out of sight. These workmen come down from
the railway line by some steps cut in the north cliff side, and we should be able to get up this
way. Please send Geoff, Scotty and Mac immediately. The job's in the bag. I am going off on
a recce of the road south of
Gordon-Creed, Scott, and McIntyre left immediately and met the others inside the gorge on 18 June. They carried the explosives farther down the gorge, hid them and then made the climb back to their camp site, the only dry and level place where they could sleep. By the following afternoon they had carried all the stores to within striking distance of the viaduct. They waited for darkness, listening to the din of the rivetters above the roar of the stream. The cold was intense and almost unbearable; all they had on were shorts and rubber-soled shoes.
Night had well settled in when the men moved the explosives up to the northern base of the steel arch. They found that the wire entanglements had been folded back for the workmen and that ladders had been placed against the structure up to a platform. All this meant precious time saved. They looked up to the viaduct and saw in the moonlight the outline of a sentry with a rifle slung across his shoulder, pacing up and down. Fifty yards away from him was the guardhouse, with fifty more Germans ready to move at call.
Scott and McIntyre climbed up to the platform, hauled up the charges on parachute cords and
started fixing them. Gordon-Creed stood by the track which came down from the guardhouse
to the stream. Although the guardhouse could not be seen, its position was fixed by the low
mumble of the guards talking. The men tensed when they saw the red glow of a cigarette end
above them. It came towards them. Gordon-Creed signalled the two sapper officers to keep
quiet, then hid himself by the track. The glow came nearer and nearer, until finally Gordon-Creed
could make out the figure of a German soldier. The saboteurs kept absolutely still; then as the
When the work was well under way, Stott
Shortly afterwards Mutch and Khouri started on the way back to get the two mules ready for a quick retreat. ‘What a mad scramble it was swimming and climbing ropes,’ writes Mutch. ‘While going up one rope ladder my arms gave out on me and I fell back about twenty-five feet and knocked myself out and got a bad knock on the shin. I came to about fifteen minutes later hearing Khouri calling to me from the top in the darkness. After another couple of attempts I made it.’
Scott and McIntyre, the two sapper officers on the platform, worked quickly and silently. They were so keyed up that the sound of every move, no matter how slight, was magnified into an agonising clatter. Once a loose rivet fell, torturing the sappers with every sound it made. A searchlight came on and swung from one end of the viaduct to the other. The two hid their faces and hands and remained motionless while the beam passed over them, though they swore that the beam was fixed on them intentionally and that the eyes of all the garrison were looking at them.
Just on midnight, after two hours' work, the sappers signalled Gordon-Creed that they had finished. Charges had been fixed to the four members of the arch and had been connected with rings of explosive fuse; this was duplicated to make sure that nothing went wrong. Five ‘time pencils’ were fixed to set off the charges; actually only one was required, but the sappers did not want to leave anything to chance. At midnight they crushed the ‘time pencils’. In an hour and a half the acid would eat through the wire inside and the released spring would force the hammer down on to a cap which would detonate the charges. The two hurried down from the platform and joined Gordon-Creed. They took a last look at the viaduct and saw the sentry leaning idly over the handrail looking into space.
The three men set off up the gorge with all possible speed. The climb up the first waterfall
was a nightmare. Although they were exhausted, they knew that they would have to force
their bodies to the limit of endurance before they were clear of the gorge. For an hour they
struggled and pulled themselves up through the dark chasm. From then on they kept looking
at their watches every few minutes; the hour and a half, the time limit for the explosion, was
nearly up. The time passed but there was no explosion. Another quarter of an hour passed.
Surely, they thought, nothing could have gone wrong. In their minds they traced each step of
the operation and tried to think of something they had missed. They knew the ‘time pencils’
were sensitive to temperature and that in a cool place the time limit could be extended by a
quarter of the normal time. The minutes dragged on slowly. When their watches showed that
one hour and fifty-five minutes had passed, the men stopped and wondered if they should go
back to see what was wrong. Then all of a sudden a bright flash lit up the gorge. The men did
not hear a sound: the roar of the stream was too deafening for any noise, no matter how great,
to reach them. But they were sure that it was the explosion. As they stood in the water up to
their waists they shook hands and congratulated one another. They had done the ‘impossible’.
The sappers left nothing near the viaduct which would lead the Germans to suspect that a British party had done the demolition. The commander of the garrison was called to account and was suspected of having sabotaged the viaduct himself. Then suspicion rested upon the workmen. The whole garrison was judged guilty of gross neglect of duty and the officer in charge and several others were promptly shot. It was not until five days later that the Germans found a rope ladder made of parachute cord, and so realised that a party of saboteurs had attacked through the gorge.
An expert engineer flew from
The demolition of the Asopos viaduct was regarded as one of the best feats of sabotage in the
war. Edmonds wanted to be sure that the members of the party got full credit for their work.
Up to then he had never recommended anybody for an award, and not certain of the procedure,
he signalled to
AT the beginning of
While Stott was in Mutch was recaptured on Chios Island in
‘A German general and a high up
The man who Stott met was Colonel Loss, Chief of the
The mayor's house was given the status of neutral territory and Stott's safety was guaranteed.
But Stott wanted to look at the defences round the
On 21 November Loss came back from
It is not known what the authorities thought of Stott's action in negotiating with the Germans.
Two special service agents, both New Zealanders, who know of the incident, say that when
the British authorities heard of the negotiations they immediately cancelled them. This version
is also mentioned by Colonel C. M. Woodhouse in his book on Greek politics, Apple of Discord:
‘Capt. Stott, a New Zealand officer, entered
On the other hand, Stott was officially commended for what he did and was awarded a bar to his DSO. This account is taken mostly from the citation to the decoration; there is no other official source of information. It would appear that the results of Stott's initiative and courage in these almost fantastic happenings were of considerable value to the Allies.
In
Morton landed on 22 March and took over leadership of the party, now numbering eight. The Japanese knew that they were ashore and sent strong forces to capture them. For the next six weeks Morton carried out his reconnaissance in spite of being constantly pursued by the Japanese. On one occasion his party successfully fought a pitched battle with a large enemy force. In May he managed to buy an old boat from the natives, and in it he and the remainder of his party sailed for several hundred miles before being picked up by a passing plane.
Morton was awarded the MC. The last part of the citation to his award reads: ‘Although costly, this operation resulted in a vast amount of reliable intelligence being obtained which proved of great value in the subsequent landing.’
THE names of other New Zealanders who were special service agents in
Lt-Col J. Mulgan, MC (British Army); died in
Lt W. A. Hubbard (Divisional Cavalry); killed by ELAS guerrillas in
WO II J. A. Redpath, MM (
Major J. W. C. Craig, MC and bar (22 Battalion).
Major A. H. Empson, MM (18 Battalion); died of sickness in
Capt D. G. MacNab, MC, DCM (
1Brig F. M. H. Hanson, DSO and bar, OBE, MM, m.i.d.;
2Lt-Col C. E. Barnes, DSO, MC, m.i.d.; born NZ
3Lt-Col A. Edmonds, MC, m.i.d.;
4Maj W. S. Jordan, MBE, MC, m.i.d.; Victoria,
5Maj D. J. Stott, DSO and bar; born NZ
6Capt R. M. Morton, MC, DCM; Nyasaland, South Africa; born NZ
7WO II L. N. Northover, MM;
8Sgt R. A. Hooper, MM; Greenmeadows; born NZ
9Sgt C. Mutch, MM; Otahuhu; born
THE AUTHOR,
Information on the Gorgopotamos and Asopos operations was drawn from Lt-Col Edmonds'
manuscript With the Greek Guerrillas 1942-1944. Edmonds' generous action of placing his manuscript at the disposal of
The following books were read for information on the Greek Resistance movement:
We Fell Among Greeks, Denys Hamson, Jonathan Cape,
Apple of Discord, C. M. Woodhouse, Hutchinson,
Report on Experience, John Mulgan,
Eight Years Overseas, Field Marshal Lord Wilson of
Closing the Ring, Winston S. Churchill, Houghton Mifflin,
Greek Resistance Army. S. Sarafis (Translated by M. Pascoe), Birch Books,
The Greek Dilemma, W. H. McNeill, Lippincott,
The following articles in New Zealand magazines were consulted:
H. McD. Vincent, ‘Zed Boys for the Zero Hours’ in RSA Review,
D. G. MacNab, ‘Salute to Colonel Bill’, Review,
W. S. Jordan, ‘Fought Nazis and Reds for Freedom of Greeks’, Weekly News,
A Grand Saboteur’, New Zealand Free Lanc,
THE MAPS arc by L. D. McCormick. The photographs come from variou collections which are stated where they are known:
the type used throughout the series is
Aldine Bembo
which was revived for monotype from a rare book printed by aldus
in 1495 * the text is set in 12 point on
a body of 14 point
cover photograph
Shells bursting near Point 175
THE operation here described was one of the stiffest in which New Zealand troops have ever been engaged. In broad daylight, on open ground giving every advantage to a determined and skilful defence, the infantry companies engaged took their objective and, despite very severe losses, held it against fierce counter-attacks. They were gallantly and skilfully supported by an entirely inadequate number of guns and tanks, but in the main they had to rely on their own weapons, and they showed what resolute troops can do.
It is always extremely difficult to discover what has actually happened in hard infantry fighting. This action has been most closely studied, the evidence (mostly contemporary) of over sixty participants examined; the story is given mostly in their own words, and it is believed to be authentic. There are few more completely truthful accounts in military history.
Usually in battle there are some for whom the strain is too much. It is interesting and impressive to note how well and gallantly everyone in this combat
seems to have behaved. If there had been any failure it would have been mentioned or at least hinted at, but there is no suggestion of any in these candid
letters and diaries. It is often said that the spirit of our troops was never higher
than in the Libyan campaign of
It is worth reading and thinking over.
THE We are indebted to Totensonntag (Sunday of the Dead), equivalent
to All Souls' Day, and it was natural that the Germans in North Africa should call the bloody
battle they fought this day, when their
Their victory, however, was not complete. For one thing the losses inflicted on them by
the gallant South Africans and the remnants of the British armour were more than they could
afford. And as part of this battle, though the German Command was only vaguely aware of
it, New Zealanders of 6 Brigade this day fought two important and largely successful actions.
One of these, by 26 Battalion on the right or eastern flank of the main Axis attack, has already
been described in this series by E. H. Smith in Guns Against Tanks. The other was an attack
by 25 Battalion, joined later by 24 Battalion, to capture Hill 175 which barred the way to
This attack is described here, mainly in the words of participants. It was fiercely opposed
by the enemy holding the feature and the ground beyond it The German 361 Afrika Regiment, which included many Germans who had previously served with the French
* * * * *
When the companies lined up—B on the right, D on the left, C in reserve behind D—the
men were told the attack would be easy. ‘It won't be much; they're packing up already,’ said
one voice. One rifleman understood it was to be ‘a bayonet charge to clear out a few pockets
of the enemy about 300 yards to the front.’ Another expected ‘action against isolated machine-
gun posts.’ A third was told that ‘we were to attack a German outpost position, and that the
attack would follow the lines of our recent manoeuvres’, and a fourth adds that ‘after taking
the position [we were] to dig in and prepare for a counter attack.’ A fifth recalls that D Company
was ‘to move forward and capture a ridge supposedly lightly held’; and another from the same
platoon states that ‘opposition was not expected to be heavy.’ A runner overheard Colonel G. J.
McNaught telling a captain, ‘I don't think you'll encounter much fire—perhaps a few MGs.’ The riflemen quoted were Ptes B. H. Robb (10 Platoon), A. G. Reed (11 Pl), T. A. Pritchard (18 Pl), E. C. Moynihan
(17 Pl), W. G. Gyde (18 Pl), and P. D. Greenlees (18 Pl). The runner was Cpl E. A. Eagan (C Coy).
B Coy contained 10, 11 and 12 Platoons, C Coy 13, 14 and 15, and D Coy 16, 17 and 18.
Some men accepted this information; others did not. ‘I don't like it much, boy,’ said Sergeant R.
Brown-Bayliss to a friend, ‘it's too much like the book.’ Some men, especially those who had
lost mates in a skirmish that morning with Headquarters of the
Whatever their outward calm, and however lightly they professed to view their tasks, officers
and other ranks alike felt an inward strain of a sort which was not yet familiar. For this was
their first action in the Desert, except for the morning's skirmish, and their first attack. Colonel
McNaught had not fought with them in
Brigadier H. E. Barrowclough had told him to expect little if any resistance and he briefed his subordinates accordingly, pointing out also that the ground just south of the cairn of stones which marked Trig Point 175 was a likely danger spot. He had no time to do more—no time for reconnaissance, no time for reflection and planning, no time for manoeuvre. He had only the knowledge of great urgency and a realisation that the simpler the arrangements the better —‘I can almost hear myself now saying to myself “make it simple, make it simple”.’ And, underneath, was a dark suspicion that the attack might be ‘a very sticky job’. From the moment the operation was ordered—about 11 a.m.—he had to produce a rapid stream of decisions to meet the zero hour of 11.30 a.m. ‘At the most,’ he says, ‘I had two minutes to think about the whole set-up, and no time to weigh pros and cons.’ His mind had to work fast and it seemed to rise to the occasion; he felt oddly exhilarated as though he could think more quickly and clearly than ever before in his life. In less than the half-hour allowed his men were lined up for the start. But his orders had to be carried downwards through company commanders to their platoons and thence to the infantry sections. The crowded minutes were too few and too short to finish this percolation to the last drop. ‘Looking back now,’ says McNaught, ‘I can see that this haste was asking too much of the attacking troops. There was not enough time to brief the men properly or to tie up one or two points about my orders.’
For one thing, it was not even certain that the cairn was Point 175. The objective, clear enough on the map, was far from clear on the ground. On the map it was a tiny triangle surrounded by an oblong contour; but few officers and fewer NCOs had maps or time to study them, and so they remained unaware of a wadi which curled round from south to west of the cairn, and they knew little more of the escarpment to the north than they knew of the enemy who lurked in its folds and who had yet to show himself. There was only the hill itself, vague in outline and inscrutable in its promise. ‘The ground to our front,’ says Sam Brown, ‘was a wide and seemingly flat area of about two square miles. As mortarmen, we shuddered.’ Again he says: ‘We could only see a long stretch of flat ground sloping gently upwards and dotted with an occasional tussock which appeared to be the only cover which it afforded.’ To those on the right it seemed a flat plateau with the escarpment falling away to the north. Perhaps there was more vegetation there, for Private Reed says: ‘Country fairly flat, with quite dense foot-high scrub.’
There had been some movement ahead at first but it soon stopped. According to Sergeant
J. Huse of 13 Platoon, the brigade convoy had ‘halted on high ground from which we could see
enemy transport scuttling across the horizon. We could also hear machine-gun fire….Our
artillery [29 Battery,
These enemy vehicles were not on Hill 175, because Colonel C. E. Weir of Forward Observation Officers.
The infantry, then, had dismounted from their three-ton lorries at the wadi less than two miles from the cairn and had marched through the gun positions to the flat ground beyond, facing west-north-west towards their objective. At zero hour they moved forward.
B Company was well extended and Lieutenant C. H. Cathie, commanding 10 Platoon with
his right section moving along the top of the escarpment, was almost out of touch with the rest.
His men were ‘mostly new to battle but very keen, some too much so’, and as they advanced
they eagerly scanned the plateau ahead, the folds and abutments of the 80-foot-high escarpment,
To the south 11 Platoon, according to Private W. S. Bellerby, ‘started off in file’ to the tune of ‘four 25-pounders which fired intermittently—I don't know what at. There was no other supporting fire.’ After a short time, which he thinks less than five minutes (but which was probably longer), ‘[we] came under long range machine gun fire. As this fire became more intense we spread out in line in extended order. This fire was from directly in front of us.’ Neither Bellerby nor other members of his platoon mention being halted at or before this stage.
Certainly 12 Platoon, in reserve some 200-300 yards behind 11 Platoon, got the order to halt, on the evidence of Private Reed:
Just before we started the artillery were pounding away and we passed through them, and then were ordered to stop. Plans were changed, more opposition than thought at first.
This was soon after 11.40 a.m., when Captain F. R. McBride, commanding B Company, was ordered ‘to stay the attack and await tank support.’ The method so far had been a formal infantry attack in which 10 Platoon was ‘to deal with the Escarpment and everything over the edge’, while 11 Platoon and, behind it, 12 Platoon were to make straight for the ground to the right (north) of the cairn.
D Company on the left had started in much the same way, except that none of its platoons seem to have been halted. In fact everything at first went just as the men had been led to expect. ‘Nothing happened,’ says Private Greenlees of 18 Platoon; ‘we just plodded up the slope…. somewhere up the rise in a wadi to the left we passed a tented encampment. There was no sign of life there.’ But Greenlees' platoon was in reserve and may have been lucky at this stage. The right forward platoon, No. 17, came under fire at once, if Private S. B. Wolfe's memory does not play him false:
…. right from the start we were under fire from M.G.s firing on what we thought were fixed lines. Small heaps of stones laid out in converging lines seemed to indicate this….
This fire, if it in fact opened so soon, must have been confined to the right of the company; for 16 Platoon, forward on the left, was not yet troubled.
Because of fresh intelligence that Hill 175 might be strongly defended, the Brigaadier had
decided to intervene, committing to the attack a squadron of sixteen Valentine infantry tanks
—C Squadron of As reconstructed by Col McNaught a few months later.
Here is our present position on map. There is Pt 175 1½ miles away. You can see a tallish object, call it “Cairn”. Beyond is what looks like a blockhouse. Call it “Blockhouse”.
Enemy: Probably in strength and on high ground both sides. Probably has tanks and may be using British tanks….
Intention: To capture and hold at all costs “HILL 175”.
Method: Tanks. Advance in two waves. First wave advance at 15 m.p.h. [top speed for Valentines] and capture
objective, will cross start line at zero. Second wave at Inf. pace with C Coy (800 yards behind forward companies)….
Bren carriers: Move at 15 m.p.h. immediately behind first tank wave and assist them.
The companies were to advance on a front of 400 yards each, mop up enemy on the objective, and hold the ‘forward half of high ground’—a role which implied that the tanks of the first wave and the carriers would be able to capture the feature on their own. Zero hour was now noon; twenty minutes after this McNaught hoped to move his advanced headquarters to a position 500 yards east of the cairn which marked Point 175. The new arrangements, of course, percolated even less thoroughly than before to the rank and file, so that most infantry sections were still vague as to their tasks and remained under the same misapprehensions regarding the enemy.
The first wave of heavily-armoured Valentines rumbled forward, soon threading their way through the thin lines of infantry and leaving them behind. Two sections of carriers followed, like frisky terriers, with Private Grant ‘worked up to good fighting spirit, giving my gun plenty of use’ until Lieutenant C. S. Wroth, who rode with him, had to restrain him, saying, ‘This is not a game of Cowboys and Indians.’ Enemy infantry on the objective were cowed by the tanks and rounded up by the carriers in a matter of minutes, though some bolder spirits regained their nerve after the tanks had passed and manned their weapons again; others lay low and remained undetected. Resistance was ineffective and the crews of tanks and carriers had only to threaten and they were obeyed. But all this took place within a few hundred yards of the cairn; infantry advancing towards this area had had their way paved by the armour, but on the extreme right and left there was resistance or the threat of it which the tanks had done nothing to overcome. For the infantry the fight was only beginning.
Cathie's platoon struck this resistance about 800 yards past the start line. Rifles and machine
guns below the escarpment opened fire from the north and north-west and Cathie, as cager
as his men, sent one section along the top to cover him with plunging fire and himself led the
other two sections in bounds along the foot of the escarpment until they were near enough to
fix bayonets and charge. ‘The Jerries appeared from everywhere with their hands up,’ says Cathie:
‘most of them had machine guns but they dropped them pretty smartly.’ About five Germans
were killed and twenty captured in this assault at the cost of one man lightly wounded. But
the section on top was getting impatient and, against orders, tried to get down the steep slope.
In an exposed re-entrant three men were wounded, two of them badly, by another enemy party.
Cathie's sections moved to help, flushing out twenty more prisoners from a cluster of tents
on the way. Back on the plateau the wounded and prisoners were sent back to safety and the
cat-and-dog fight with a more numerous enemy below was resumed. Cathie later went across
The machine-gun fire which 11 Platoon met soon after the start, according to Bellerby, ‘became
more and more intense—I never experienced anything like it again—and at the time I was wounded
we were going to ground and going forward in bounds.’ Bellerby was in No. 4 Section (under
Corporal R. Sanders) which was accompanied after about half a mile by one of the Valentines,
driving alongside at walking pace, firing its machine gun. ‘There must have been about 1000 yds
of flat to cover before we came to the enemy,’ writes another member of the section, Private
C. M. Morris. ‘After getting amongst them,’ he continues, ‘we went to ground to wait for
the troops on our right [presumably Cathie's platoon below the escarpment] to catch up with
us. It was while waiting that Bennett Pte W. A. Bennett. Pte H. M. Shewan.
Breasting the faint crest of a rise roughly north-east of the cairn, the section came under heavy fire from machine guns ahead and Sanders, Bellerby, and Private C. C. McNicol were hit. Perhaps it was here too that the platoon lost its commander, Lieutenant J. P. Tredray, a brave young officer, who was killed outright. To Bellerby and those with him it was exasperating that the ground in front still clung doggedly to its secrets, and there was no sign of the enemy but his deadly fire. The wounded, however, were left and those still on their feet continued to press westward.
What the rest of 11 Platoon was doing is not clear, but it seems that one section, including Sergeant E. P. Wootton and Corporal M. C. Ford, attacked with fixed bayonets some enemy posts just north of the cairn. These were taken but at least two men, Privates B. Hoppe and R. Bray, were wounded and there they had to lie, later caught up in a duel between the Valentines and one or two enemy tanks. ‘I was very lucky,’ says Hoppe (wounded in the spine), ‘not to be hit by many hot red tomatoes from the tanks as I lay on the ground.’
No. 12 Platoon, following some distance behind No. 11, saw some enemy surrender to the
tanks in front. Machine-gun fire from the right flank sent the men to ground, but the platoon
commander, Lieutenant G. J. B. (‘Ben’) Morris, soon had them on their feet again. ‘I think
it's only spent stuff,’ he said; ‘get up and walk.’ Reed comments…. it didn't sound too spent
to me’. Corporal E. R. Dix was carrying a bakelite grenade in his pocket when a bullet smashed
it; he removed the detonator ‘very gently and was glad to leave it on the ground.’ Soon after
this the platoon ‘got amongst the Huns and four chaps under Keith Marshall Cpl W. K. Marshall.
Not only was the advance on the left getting too fast, but D Company also tended to veer southwards, as though the tilt of the ground were sliding the platoons in that direction. In the words of the company commander, Major A. J. R. Hastie,
… when some 500 yards short of it [the objective] I noted with concern that the gap between D & B Coys was increasing considerably and as my left flank did not appear to be coming into enemy held ground I ordered an almost half right wheel by the two forward Platoons in order to help close the gap.
Sam Brown, following somewhere behind Hastie, says: ‘There was a general change of direction to half right with the outside left flank men running to keep up with the unexpected pivot.’
‘The last 200–300 yards were covered by section rushes,’ says Major Hastie, ‘as considerable
MG and rifle fire was being encountered.’ Again, Lieutenant Handyside says: ‘… when about
100 yds off the enemy F.D.Ls Forward Defended Localities.
No. 18 Platoon, under Lieutenant P. de V. Holt, ‘a young officer who advanced coolly under
fire in his first action without hesitation of any kind’ (according to Private Pritchard), had meanwhile followed some distance behind. ‘We crossed a yard wide strip of plough which ran along
the entire front,’ writes Private Greenlees, ‘and no sooner were we over it than the enemy opened
up with mortars, machine guns, and God knows what else. It was just a case of down and up
and forward.’ The enemy mortars opened fire just before the platoon drew level with a derelict
tank ‘and our 2/Lt. Holt scared us all by nearly knocking himself out by falling on his revolver,’
says Pritchard. ‘As we drew level with this [the derelict] there appeared to be bursts of machine
gun fire… directly across us,’ reports Private Gyde, a Bren gunner of the left section. ‘As
L-Sgt T. L. Tattersall.
The mortar detachment plodded forward, ‘still mixed up with the infantry’, and Brown gives a warm description of enemy fire at this stage:
The scythe-like machinegun fire lifted and was immediately followed by an increase in mortar bombs… we were startled by a sharp command:
‘Mortars! Where are the mortars?’
….Working frantically we had our gun set up in less than thirty seconds and commenced to drop bombs down the barrel while a cone of machinegun fire beat a pattern on the ground two yards in front of us….
No. 18 Platoon could see the enemy surrendering ahead and so, writes Pritchard, ‘We ran the last few hundred yards in order to be in at the death and were in time to help with the disarming of the prisoners.’ Private Greenlees ‘arrived at the crest to find the enemy surrendering by the dozen. Already a large muster was grouped together and Colonel McNaught detailed some others and myself to escort them back…. As we left the battalion was going forward again. About a hundred yards back down the slope with the prisoners, we were fired on… and I was wounded in the arm.’ Corporal G. H. Sampson of 18 Platoon was also in this:
… as the prisoners seemed to be rather neglected… I and two or three other chaps (one was big Percy Greenlees, about 16 stone) rounded them up and demanded that they dump any knives, etc. They were all pretty scared and complied readily enough. A few minutes after we set out for Bn HQ. We'd proceeded about two hundred yards when the counter attack broke loose. Being a brand new Lance Jack, I suppose my sense of duty was still a bit keen so I decided to make my way back to the section….
D Company began to settle in and Major Hastie ‘asked for Pl trucks to be sent up with tools. D.R. arrived back… to say trucks would report shortly. At this stage things were fairly quiet, 16 Pl well out on left flank and 17 Pl were near me on right of position and 18 Pl…. had come up into 17 Pl's area. I moved round and indicated areas to 17 & 18 Pls. During this I came across H. Gamlin and one other examining a small captured A/T gun. I told Gamlin to try and see if he could get it working and he said he thought he could….’ Pritchard speaks at this stage of ‘occasional fire from a point where the hills converged’. There was little cover, as Corporal D. S. G. Walker of 16 Platoon reports:
… we were ordered to dig in. Hopeless task—hard ground—no tools. Used. small “holes” vacatad by Germans no more than six inches deep.
But even this comparative haven was to be denied to D Company. At about 1.30 p.m. a despatch rider ‘arrived to say I was to push on as the tanks would only be with us for another ten minutes’, to quote Hastie's report. Hardly had this order reached him than C Company arrived on the scene.
This company, under Captain Heslop, had only just got to the start line when the original
advance was halted and the tanks committed. When the forward companies were about 600
Ormond, moving fairly well out on the left flank, was perturbed at the sight of a huge mass of vehicles about two miles to the left rear, but a more immediate menace was a ‘derelict’ tank —perhaps the same one from which Holt had been shot—which, according to Sergeant Huse, ‘came to life when we were right under its guns and caused heavy casualties.’ This was almost certainly the tank first engaged by Ryan's left section of K Troop, which he describes as follows:
I moved my section up with the Infantry until we were engaged with what I took at first to be a burnt out tank. We had noticed this tank for about an hour and there didn't seem to be any movement until he suddenly started to move. I moved my portees to attack him on either flank and fortunately for us managed to knock him out.
Private H. H. Hanlen records that 13 Platoon's first casualty was about ‘Halfway across the
flat… Pte Wilson Pte J. T. Wilson. Cpl I. F. A. Quin.
Meanwhile the centre and right of C Company had almost reached D Company. As 15 Platoon on the right drew level with Colonel McNaught, he ordered Lieutenant Robertshaw to ‘accompany the [three] tanks with my platoon and go forward where there was now a very wide gap between the two forward companies….’ So 15 Platoon departed. This left only 14 Platoon, Huse's section of 13 Platoon, and C Company Headquarters to support D Company, though Captain Heslop was as yet unaware that any of his company had been detached. Heslop met Hastie, who had just been ordered to continue the advance, and they decided that C Company —relatively intact as Heslop thought–should move through D, saving time and allowing a pause to Hastie's deserving men.
A Company and a section of carriers had been sent before the start of the attack to cover
B Company's forming up and to clear cut pockets of the enemy which might be found below
There were no covered approaches to the forward area and lorries bringing up ammunition had to drive over the same bullet-swept flats that the infantry had crossed only a few minutes before; for McNaught took his advanced headquarters forward at the earliest moment and reached the area 300-500 yards short of the cairn by 12.30 p.m., at which time D Company was still collecting prisoners and B Company had not yet drawn level. The vehicles with him were all perilously exposed to small-arms, anti-tank and mortar fire. One or two ammunition lorries were hit and as they burned their contents began to explode.
The Colonel himself seemed unperturbed, and many witnesses have testified to the encouragement they got from the sight of their commanding officer standing in the open or walking without hesitation no matter what fire came his way. They disagree about his headgear, which is variously described as a glengarry, a balaclava, a field service cap, or nothing at all; but they all agree about the pipe in his mouth and his unfailing courage.
Despite the fire which met the vehicle group, Colonel McNaught had some reason for satisfaction with the situation he found. Strong enemy positions had been overrun and ‘Our troops
… had got on pretty well.’ It seemed to him that the enemy had been occupying mainly
the eastern part of the feature, and this was already in his hands at comparatively small cost and
long columns of prisoners were making for the rear. D Company was ‘moving well towards
the western part of the objective’ and though B Company had been held up it was in no serious
trouble. With C Company at hand and A Company at call, there were reserves enough for
likely demands, and the tanks were still forward and their presence heartening. Yet ‘it was
The situation on the left, as CSM R. F. Thorpe of C Company saw it, was as follows:
We were at a burnt out truck near the left hand corner of a large sandhill…. Immediately we left the shelter of the sandhill the enemy fire became very intense and we suffered many casualties before passing through D Coy and taking up a position about 100 yards in advance of them. Here the fire appeared to come from our immediate front, left front, left side and even left rear. Targets were still not visible to our left but men could be seen to the front right (believed to be our own troops) and others moving from right to left and disappearing over the skyline into the wadi. These, I consider, were Germans….
Major Hastie, who also failed to locate the source of the fire, says: ‘I could hear Heslop ordering
“Cease fire on the left” and wondered why. I found out later he thought my men were somehow firing on his Company.’ Some of D Company seem to have gone forward again just before
or at the same time that C Company came up; for Private Gyde says: ‘… we had started to
advance when we came under particularly heavy machine-gun fire.’ Pritchard adds: ‘We advanced
once more and… [then] were pinned to the ground with a very intense automatic weapon
fire. Personally I could not see where this was coming from and no one else was very sure either.
In the meantime our tanks had been recalled
and we were stuck in an exposed position with
no support, and rifle and bayonet our strongest
weapon, because to man a Bren meant raising
one's self to a position which was the signal for
intense fire….’ Wolfe says: ‘Going forward
again, things got pretty confused, our tanks
knocked out, our anti-tank likewise, and we
found ourselves surrounded, pinned to the
ground by cross fire and out of touch with the
other companies.’ Furthermore, ammunition
was getting low. ‘We had set out,’ says Private
Hanlen, ‘… with our hundred rounds per man
and the Bren guns four hundred rounds….
We finally went to ground after routing out a few machine gun posts. Some of our chaps firing
from them—fortunate in having a bit of cover; they were the only ones who did. The enemy
This, then, was the setting for the next stage of the drama: exposed positions, fiendishly heavy and close machine-gun and mortar fire from the seemingly empty desert, and next to no ammunition. Hastic sent a runner, Private T. C. Taylor, to Colonel McNaught to say he was pinned down by heavy fire from the left flank. Except for a few ‘very shallow holes and clumps of tussock’ there was no cover. Then Sergeant H. C. Blackburn of 16 Platoon reported that Lieutenant Handyside had been wounded. ‘We were lying in a shallow depression,’ says Hastic, ‘and I was giving him the situation as I knew it when he [Blackburn] was killed.’ There was still no way of knowing whence the fire was coming and Hastie was as mystified about this as any of his men, but he soon had the answer: ‘… shortly after this I observed the top of a tank appearing over the ground out on the left flank. This gradually came into full view, followed, by two others in echelon formation.’ These tanks advanced slowly in bounds, with infantry following closely. Miles Handyside, lying wounded in the open, saw the Germans counter- attack ‘with one tank that I saw and plenty of Infantry.’ Then he watched a brave action by one of the battalion Bren carriers, which ‘fought a good rearguard here, slowly giving ground and firing single shots all the time from its gun.’ Hastie saw either this or another which ‘came up to my area and then moved round to the rear and back towards Battalion HQ. It drew a considerable amount of fire.’
The same curve of the ground which had first hidden the tanks from C and D Companies
still hid them from Ryan's two portées which were level with Advanced Headquarters, and
so there was no effective fire which could be directed against these tanks. Or almost no fire;
for ‘Hughie’ Gamlin had been working on the little anti-tank gun which had been found on
the position and had turned it to face the enemy. Corporal Sampson has reconstructed what
he thinks ensued: ‘There was a small Jerry gun with a short barrel poking out through a sheet
of plating, pointing towards me but behind most of our boys… Having got a round away
at the tank, Hugh did the most natural thing and took a quick look over the shield to see if he'd
scored a hit. Jerry was just one jump ahead and guessed that is what would happen; he was
also a good man with a rifle.’ And so Gamlin died, and the last slim chance of defeating the
tanks died with him. For most of C and D Companies there was now no hope, but this fact
took some time to dawn on the men. Hastie told those around him to fire on the enemy infantry
when they could, and Sergeant J. E. Caldwell of 17 Platoon ‘coolly got an officer’. The remaining carriers moved over to help D Company but could do no more than send a few bursts of
Bren-gun fire into the enemy infantry and retreat before the tanks. The platoon commander's
carrier had to withdraw when its driver, Private Grant, ‘stopped a lump of shrapnel in the back’ According to himself; it must have been a big lump because Pte H. R. Mackenzie saw him back at the RAP and
says he had ‘half his right shoulder blade torn to ribbons’.
As Hanlen notes: ‘We did not have to wait long. The enemy realised our position and brought
up three tanks (our own with Huns in) and they soon put an end to things, spraying the ground
and running the boys over.’ Heslop writes that the tanks ‘moved forward slowly, followed
Few soldiers, before action, seriously think of being captured by the enemy, a contingency which, unless it actually arrives, seems impossibly remote. So capture finds them quite unprepared for the act of surrender or the ensuing captivity. Thus Hastie saw the tanks pass through 16 Platoon, ‘some of whom I saw get up with their hands up’, and he comments: ‘This rather shook me at the time.’ The tanks still came on and more men put their hands up. ‘When the leading tank was about 30-40 yards from where I was I very reluctantly told those around me that they had better do so too as I could see nothing else for it. I then buried my maps and papers and followed suit, noting Heslop getting to his feet too…. Fortyseven of D Coy were taken then including nine walking wounded.’ One of the wounded was Corporal Walker who was using a German spandau machine gun. He says: ‘Owing to its height above ground etc. I and the gun were hit by a burst from tank No. I which could not have been more than 50 yards from me.’
Thorpe, who may have got a good distance farther west with part of C Company, says that the final advance ‘brought us to within 200 yards of the edge of the wadi. By this time all sign of troops, to our right front, had disappeared; but a definite target, Germans, was visible to our immediate front (on the edge of the wadi) and could be seen advancing in short bursts to our left front, left side and left rear. From this stage the remains of the Coy were pinned to the ground by very heavy small arms fire and replied as best they could. Unfortunately the number of targets was far too many for the number of men remaining.’
With Thorpe when he surrendered was Private A. H. Annis, whose battle-dress jacket at the back ‘looked as if rats had chewed it.’ Private Moynihan's view of these last minutes is typical and his last sentence haunting:
…. there were tanks all around us…. things were a bit hazy and the next thing I knew we were marching back behind the Jerry lines. We had done our best with what we had to fight with and it was not our fault we had been taken.
Ormond's two sections of 13 Platoon must have been captured about the same time, from his description of what happened after he relieved Quin's section of D Company:
Settled my 2 Sections in German slit trenches and told Sgt Brown Bayliss we'd have to hold the position. Then went forward a bit with my runner, Pte A. Scott.
40 or 50 Germans stood up and surrendered 150 yards away so started over towards them when they didn't obey my signal to come over. Then I noticed a whole lot more huns lying ready to fire, and also a tank which I hadn't noticed before which was giving us occasional bursts; so got back smartly to the rest of the platoon—Scott killed somewhere here by bursts from tank.
Back with his men Ormond was quickly embroiled in a heavy exchange of fire, during which
he moved from post to post, not only to encourage his men but to make use of whatever he
We hung on there till I was knocked out by a trench mortar, the Germans advancing a bit as we got short of men and ammunition.
When I came to the Germans were in possession, none of our men about and no firing close by. I lay quiet in my trench until dark.
Sergeant Brown-Bayliss, among others, was killed and most of the survivors captured.
The captives from C and D Companies were quickly marched off down the wadi which curled round from left to front and saw no more of the battle at close hand. In the years of captivity which faced them they did not even have the consolation of knowing that at least two of the three tanks which overran them were knocked out within a few minutes. Ryan's two portees, in Sam Brown's words, ‘dashed up, in reverse, about 100 yards to our left rear…. we heard dull… thuds as their shots hit home.’ Ryan saw it as follows:
…. we noticed a light tank (Italian I think) followed by a Valentine flying our recognition signals. It was difficult for us to decide whether the Valentine was firing at the Italian tank or not. We engaged the Italian tank at about 500 yards with both guns and he didn't fire another shot–we must have killed the gunner-but he kept rolling to within about 50 yards of us, finally going up in flames. K4. continued pumping shells into him until he stopped…. I switched the fire of K3 to the Valentine, having decided he was hostile and we were greatly helped by two members of the 25th Battalion who lobbed two sticky bombs with good results. This tank was knocked out but I think the honours should go to the infantry.
At this point Brown saw Colonel McNaught dash up in his staff car to ‘about half-way between us and the forward troops.’ The mortar detachment then felt ‘a passionate desire to be useful’ and drove up to him, noticing as they drew alongside, that ‘he was wounded in the leg and limping badly’. The mortar was quickly set up and the Colonel directed its fire. It was soon joined by another gun from the reserve detachment and ‘we put over a positively terrific support fire ranging from 800 to 1200 yards for the counter attacking reserve infantry who were moving up through us [A Company]…. a glorious release from our previous feelings of helplessness and frustration…. [the enemy's] fire decreased… until there was only to be heard an occasional rattle of machinegun fire from well in front.’
Robertshaw, as he led 15 Platoon towards the right, was unaware of what was happening behind him; his eyes were on the three tanks in front and it was all he could do to keep up with them. They ‘went off’, he says, ‘at a pace which soon carried us well forward, and during the advance we did not see any enemy, although we must have passed along the front of a strong enemy position.’ When he reached the escarpment things began to happen quickly. All three tanks were disabled ‘immediately by an anti-tank gun and a Mark III tank just below the top of the escarpment. We engaged and killed the crew of the anti-tank gun. The tank came to the top and then backed down again and we heard it move away again, much to our relief.’
Private J. M. Simonsen of No. 9 Section saw all this as follows:
For a few minutes we were unmolested, then quickly came under heavy fire. We were given orders to charge, which we did. Came to earth after covering some sixty yards….
Perhaps 30 or 40 yards away on our left front were 3 I tanks, all disabled but still fighting with all they had. The nearness of these with the resulting heavy fire, quickly made our position untenable. However when the order came to withdraw, I had already become a casualty, a bullet having passed through my foot….
Gradually this fragment of action fits into the jigsaw puzzle; for surely this action between our tanks and the enemy tank was that which Private Hoppe saw while lying wounded on the ground somewhere north of the cairn. And if so it seems likely that some of 11 Platoon had already pushed past here on their way westwards and that 12 Platoon was not far short of this point.
Robertshaw ordered his platoon to withdraw:
Once on their feet the sections drew a hail of small arms fire, and were practically all killed or wounded. Those who were not killed lay up in unoccupied enemy positions… until forty hours later…. I believe a few of the walking wounded did come out and found our lines on the night of the 23rd…. The few still fit stayed with the badly wounded.
Robertshaw himself and Sergeant Connor got out ‘by a lot of luck’ by taking cover behind the tanks, and two privates also reported back. Simonsen stayed, for he could not walk. He, too, reports the tragic end of 15 Platoon: ‘Upon the order to withdraw, several soldiers rose to be immediately shot down.’ Others ‘gradually dispersed’ and he was left to watch ‘the tanks —still fighting—until one was hit directly by an artillery shell. This could be heard coming and landed on the turret of the tank immediately in front of my position, setting the tank on fire. The crew… evacuated the blazing tank, although I fear that none of them escaped wounds or death, owing to the enemy machine guns.’
To fit this action of 15 Platoon into B Company's movements, bearing in mind the limited viewpoints of those who took part and the urgent and terrible distractions they suffered, is now difficult. For one thing, Cathie's platoon was absorbed in its deadly game above and below the escarpment and lost all count of time or thought of the other platoons. And 11 and 12 Platoons met such a storm of fire on the plateau that those who remained on their feet scarcely knew what was happening. Bellerby, before he was hit, recalls seeing Colonel McNaught some 300 yards to the south. He carried on for perhaps 300 yards, which must surely have taken him somewhere past the cairn and possibly a long way past, for he says that there was a wadi ‘about 100 yds ahead and the ground dipped steeply out of sight and apparently it was in this wadi that the enemy infantry were dug in.’ He stopped a bullet in the leg and there he lay in a slight hollow for the next four hours.
Actually after I was hit the fire eased off somewhat. By this time our advancing troops were out of sight. An RAP bloke came up and dressed our wounds and then he too disappeared forward.
Half an hour or an hour later some of A Company debussed at the crest behind him and carried on past him on foot.
Thanks mainly to Private Reed, the story of 12 Platoon is clearer, though the farthest point of their advance is not known. After the capture of the prisoners, perhaps 150 yards past the cairn, he says:
Continued our advance for another 500 yards or so till things got very hot. Went down. Ben Morris hit in the
upper leg, Bernie Willis, Pte B. G. Willis. Pte G. K. McK. McLauchlan. Sgt H. R. Martin.
Were the three tanks Reed saw those which Robertshaw had accompanied? It seems likely,
though there were plenty of others knocked out by this time. At all events the platoon was now
Reed in his curiously detached way tells this story without frills:
Slight escarpment to our front and right flank but we couldn't get to the lip of it but could hear a lot of row and
heard a tank [perhaps the same one which had menaced 15 Platoon] on our right flank. O. Wilson who had taken
over the bren crawled over to me with it. He had had a jam. I cleared it and took it over. Had to pull back. Some
of the chaps carried Ben back while I covered them then I made a dash and relied on them. When we got back a bit
found McLauchlan had not come. His pal Pete Easton Pte A. N. Easton. Pte J. W. McDonnell. Pte R. R. Brown.
At last reached some of our own chaps and got some ammo from B2 [a company lorry] which charged up but was stopped by a mortar or something of that nature.
Let us leave 12 Platoon for a while in this terrible and wonderful setting wherein, as a matter of course, a man goes back into torment for the sake of a friend or stays there alone to cover the others—and such things can be described as though you or I or the man next door would have done the same. Well we might, but there lurks a secret and frightening doubt not apparent to Reed; for such deeds were this day the rule and not the exception.
Not far away, for example, from where we leave 12 Platoon, another action had been fought
by KI, the leading two-pounder of Muirhead's right anti-tank section. This gun, under Sergeant
F. Seifert, came under ‘fairly severe machine gun fire’ but continued to trail the leading infantry
by about 200 yards, which made the prominent portée more attractive to enemy marksmen
than the thin line of infantry bounding forward and then falling flat among the scrub. Then
KI ‘engaged a tank’, as Muirhead says, ‘and forced the crew to evacuate same. It did not catch
fire although badly damaged.’ Another hundred yards forward the gun engaged a machine-
gun position, firing about ten shots. ‘K1 then received 2 more or less direct hits by mortars
which put the gun and portée out of action but did not damage the crew.’ Colonel McNaught
appeared and Muirhead told him K1 was out of action and suggested bringing up K2. The
reply was: ‘No!, you are infantry now! Forward!’ ‘So forward we went,’ says Muirhead,
‘about 25 yards and were engaged by machine guns which wounded Frank Seifert and myself.
Seifert was badly hit and could not be moved. Nobody could move—the bullets were clipping
the grass about 12” above the ground.’ But Muirhead did crawl back a short way and got a
Bren carrier to pick up Seifert. K2 must have been following to the right, near the escarpment,
for it too engaged ‘a large tank which came up over the escarpment and blew the turret off it’,
according to Gunner W. Kelly, who was the layer and pressed the trigger. ‘This tank burned
and was a complete write off,’ he adds. ‘K2 then engaged another smaller tank at short range
and blew the turret off it. This one did not burn.’ There is no telling how soon the one followed
Artillery support was, as it happened, one of the problems of this attack. There were for one
thing only eight field guns when a full regiment of twenty-four would have been less than enough.
Then the enemy lay low and held his fire until the attacking infantry were too close for artillery
support, so the observation officers had to engage more distant targets. After the initial programme had been halted at five past twelve by Colonel McNaught because the shells were landing
among our tanks.
So although Captain McBride was ‘unable at any stage to make contact with the Arty’, and Major Burton of Headquarters Company who came up soon after the attack started found him ‘a most worried man owing to lack of arty support’, the gunners were doing their best and Fisher was well forward, unknown to McBride, directing the fire of A Troop wherever he thought it would help B Company. Molloy was doing the same for the left flank with B Troop. But in each case four guns were now covering a front of well over half a mile, and so their fire was sparse.
Where the shortage of guns was particularly felt was in dealing with the ‘Well placed Machine Guns covering A/T Guns’ (to quote McNaught's own account) on the edge of the escarpment or in its re-entrants. No. 10 Platoon was dealing with these as it came to them but Cathie could have done with some help, especially after he was ‘pipped through the shoulder’ and could no longer use his rifle. Nos. 11 and 12 Platoons also tended to face north rather than west in response to this threat. McBride asked for reinforcement, but McNaught thought the left the critical flank and told him ‘to hang on without help.’
Major Burton walked forward with his batman (his truck had been shot up that morning) to report to Colonel McNaught and found that ‘A number of vehicles had advanced perilously too far forward…. I ordered several trucks back a few hundred yds…. Bren carriers were doing a grand job but were smashed like pieces of crockery. Tommy guns, hand grenades and bayonets were coming into operation…. the fire of enemy weapons swept the area….’ McNaught's own headquarters was now under fierce fire and the Colonel himself was hit at about 1.15 p.m. and again a quarter of an hour later. Shortly after that the Intelligence Officer and Signals Officer, Lieutenants M. J. T. Frazer and G. Colledge, were also wounded. Burton continues:
…. The CO had advanced his headquarters… very close to the trig point. The fire… was terrific, the trucks being riddled…. The two wireless operators were killed…. The Intelligence Officer stretched out across a Bren carrier looked a shocking sight and as I gave him a wave and a cheerio I thought I had seen him for the last time.
In the respite gained by the mortars on the left flank McNaught sent a despatch rider This DR was probably Pte J. B. Kinder, who had already proved himself by repairing his motor cycle under fire;
again he had it ‘shot away from under him’ (to quote the citation for his MM); and, converting a German machine
to his own use, he finally had this, too, disabled by enemy fire. ‘He, together with his friend [Pte W. H.] Bill Morton,
did a great job,’ says Maj Burton.
Meanwhile A Company of 25 Battalion was being brought up in lorries (except for 8 Platoon, which came up on foot) and it debussed under fire somewhere near Advanced Battalion Headquarters about a quarter past two. Captain W. H. Roberts, the company commander, made his reconnaissance under ‘terrific mortar and machine gun fire’, according to Burton, ‘to find the best line of attack.’ Then A Company attacked ‘up the left centre,’ says McNaught, ‘reached the remnants of D Coy and stabilised the position.’ But this is a more sanguine view than that, for example, of Lieutenant Jack, who says:
We were hurriedly deployed and proceeded with the advance…. Platoons came under fire immediately. Advance continued by short bounds…. 7 and 9 Platoons finally pinned down by fire from enemy tank which remained stationary … believed to be out of action. Tank then moved up and attempted to run over our troops who were prone on the ground. Our anti tank guns then obtained direct hits on the tank and put it out of action. (I was wounded very soon after this incident.)
The enemy was only 150 yards ahead, and a Bren carrier which came up with ammunition
paused to engage machine guns at that range before carrying Jack and four other wounded
back to the rear. Jack had been wounded three times according to Sergeant T. P. Winter, who
took over 9 Platoon. Winter led his men forward until pinned down by tank fire. The earlier
action on the escarpment had used up much small-arms ammunition and the platoon could
no longer reply to the fire which raked it. Winter says ‘grenades and sticky bombs were used,
without effect, in an endeavour to push past the enemy tanks.’ Winter himself was then wounded
in chest and arms and Lance-Corporal C. H. G. Howell was killed when he stood up to dress
Winter's wounds. Only the wounded sergeant and five men of 9 Platoon remained in action.
No. 8 Platoon, under Lieutenant Bruce Campbell, fared slightly better as a whole, but its 4 Section
‘Where these guns came from no one seemed to know,’ says Burton, ‘but they did a wonderful job in supporting
this attack and won the admiration of all….’ These formed a section of 9 Platoon, 27 MG Bn. McNaught says
they arrived later, but whatever time they came, the machine-gunners certainly deserved the praise; for this bare
terrain offered them little cover and their fire was too damaging to remain unchallenged. The other section of two
guns supported the right flank along the escarpment.
If the left flank gave some appearance of solidity at this stage the right was unmistakably fluid, and Burton spent most of his time there, trying to sort things out. ‘There were quite a number of lightly wounded men and others who had lost their officers and n.c.o.s and who were just moving back to the rear,’ he says. ‘These I ordered into position just over the edge of the escarpment and we established a two platoon front. I sent a messenger back to bring forward every available man from HQ Coy.’ This group of men was very likely that at which we left 12 Platoon after the death of Ben Morris. Sergeant Martin was now, as Reed has told us, in command of this gallant band, whose thin ranks were to be reduced still more. Reed continues:
Colonel McNaught turned up and asked what had happened, then ordered us to attack again. Went over to our
right to the edge of the escarpment and attacked up there. Jim Granville Pte J. Granville. Pte L. E. C. Suff. Cpl J. R. Walker. Pte J. R. Jeromson.
Then Reed, whose matter-of-fact narrative has already taken us through more death and desolation than most men know in a lifetime, describes with warm admiration an action he witnessed. Others might be brave, we must infer, but for him and those with him there was just a job of work to be done:
Before this action we had been told that one of our I tanks had been captured by the Germans… Col McNaught was walking over to it as though to give the crew orders when it opened up with machine guns. I then saw one of the coolest things of that day. Close to me was a 2-lb anti-tank gun up on its portee. It had been facing our front but when the tank opened up I saw the Sergeant in charge slowly circling with his hand giving the driver instructions to back and turn the truck. They then went into action and the first shot snapped off the wireless aerial of the tank. These chaps were stuck up on the tray of the portee and under heavy machine-gun fire all the time. (The regular gunner [gun-layer] had been hit while the portee was turning.) The tank scuttled back down the escarpment and the portee backed to the edge and finished it off.
We advanced a bit and then Capt McBride was hit…. Pete Easton took over the Bren from me as my arm was
stiffening up and I was feeling a bit weak…. Sgt Martin was awarded the DCM for the period when he commanded 12 Platoon.
Infiltration below the escarpment reached the level of a serious counter-attack and Cathie picked out a position for a do-or-die stand against it: ‘we were fairly exposed,’ he wrote, ‘but this point simply had to be held. Here I lost two corporals killed (Cpl F. Beamsley and L/Cpl A. McK. Black), and the RAP orderly was shot next to me. All these men had been splendid throughout and were always there when wanted.’ When the survivors of 11 and 12 Platoons joined 10 Platoon, as they now did, Lieutenant D. A. Wilson took command–‘a short, dark, sturdy man,’ Cathie says, ‘the coolest, quietest, best soldier there.’
Brigadier Barrowclough sent up not one company of 24 Battalion, as promised, but two.
The first of these, D Company, reached the scene between 3.15 and 3.30 p.m. and was at once
committed on the right. Then Colonel C.
Shuttleworth of 24 Battalion arrived to take
over from Colonel McNaught, of whom the
Brigadier says: ‘…. it was with difficulty
that he was persuaded to go back to the dresssing station.’ McNaught briefed his successor–
‘I am afraid rather incoherently’–and then
went back for medical treatment. McNaught was awarded the DSO and Cathie the MC for this action.
Meanwhile Major Burton, not knowing of
these arrangements, assumed command of
25 Battalion when he heard that McNaught had gone and picked for his command post a shallow
bomb hole on the flat above the escarpment. There, with his batman, Private G. S. (‘Taffy’) Ringwood, he endured a few minutes of careful and accurate attention from an enemy mortar. Taffy, who
had so far stuck loyally at his side, ‘became restless, he was absolutely sick of this bomb crater,
and he was all for evacuating’; but he stayed. Then, when Burton was about to leave this area,
a hail of bullets whistled overhead and looking along the edge of the escarpment we could see khaki forms crawling
towards us. Another burst ripped through and nearby I heard a man moan. Sgt Atkins, L-Sgt S. W. Atkins.
How many needless casualties were caused by this misunderstanding will never be known; for few men on either side of this sharp exchange were clear as to what was happening. It was probably only a handful, though no less tragic for that, and it could have lasted for only a matter of moments; for the newcomers were quickly and heavily involved with the same enemy B Company had been fighting so bitterly all afternoon.
The new D Company, under Captain H. H. McDonald, had come up quickly in lorries, only too anxious to help. From midday, when they first heard the battle ahead, they had been restive, as Private E. E. Heyber of 18 Platoon confirms:
…. We waited for orders to advance. Our officer Mr Thompson Capt H. Thompson. 24 Bn, like 25 Bn, had 13, 14 and 15 Platoons in C Coy and 16, 17 and 18 in D Coy.
Heyber himself was hit by a mortar fragment in the first mad rush. Private R. E. Till, also
of D Company, has a terse entry in his pocket diary: ‘Heavy M.G. fire as we debussed–Point 175.’
Private W. R. A. Shakespear of 16 Platoon adds some details: ‘We moved forward at short
1Pte G. M. Morgan.
Private R. Heath, manning a two-inch mortar in 16 Platoon, says:
…. we advanced through murderous machine gun and mortar fire. Andy Lees L-Cpl A. G. Lees. Pte L. M. Lewis. Pte E. W. Cains.
Then Heath ‘collected it in the back’ but stayed on the job until dark. Casualties were heavy
all through the company—at least two killed, as we have seen, in 16 Platoon; Privates T. Green,
A. Gibson, J. V. Morgan and C. C. Davey killed in 17 Platoon; and, within a few minutes of
the start, Captain McDonald himself and his batman, Private G. Absolum. ‘In the meantime
D Company was held down under fire,’ says Shakespear; ‘Capt MacDonald (Happy Mac) stood
up to size up the position, when I looked again he had fallen.’ This was a sad loss; but the company pushed on. Shakespear continues: ‘We advanced to the edge of the escarpment, but the
fire was heavy and we had to withdraw a few chains. While at the edge Pte McClintock Pte C. McClintock.
Several D Company men mention an anti-tank action which sounds very much like that which Reed admired; but it could not have been the same unless Reed mistook Colonel Shuttleworth for McNaught, who had long since left the scene. Gunner Kelly describes it as follows:
At dusk Col Shuttleworth came over and asked K2 to engage a tank down the escarpment. K2 moved over the crest … and in three shots demolished this tank which went up in flames.
In moving over the crest … back to its position K2 came under heavy MG fire and Sgt Joe Prisk was killed instantly….
Kelly, himself slightly wounded, took command of the gun.
D Company of the 24th and the survivors of B and HQ Companies of the 25th, however,
gradually subdued the enemy on the right flank and firing decreased towards dusk. On the
left it had flared up strongly in the late afternoon and A Company, down to half strength, was
heavily pressed and almost overwhelmed, as were C and D Companies earlier on much the
same ground. And the advanced headquarters which McNaught had set up was still under
terrible fire and now without officers at all. As Captain E. K. Tomlinson, commanding C Company of the 24th, saw it, ‘all that remained were a few signallers who were packing up and getting
out.’ He gained the impression that 25 Battalion was ‘badly demoralised and disorganised and
their men were streaming off Point 175 hotly pursued by the enemy.’ This was, however, a local
view; he knew nothing of Lieutenant B. R. Henderson's group to his right front, nor did he reach
I decided that the best way to assist the remnants of 25 Bn was to stage an attack on Pt 175 with my own Coy, hoping that the sight of fresh troops would help 25 Bn to reorganise and establish a line.
So Tomlinson went back to meet his C Company, which had been driving forward, and put this plan into effect, telling his men to ‘go to ground and hold a defensive position on the reverse slope of 175’ if enemy fire were too damaging, to give 25 Battalion time to reorganise.
All this, of course, took place in a matter of minutes, and Tomlinson had no time to ponder about a group of enemy tanks which seemed to be refuelling in a wadi not far to the left (south); he was only thankful that they did not intervene. Opposition was heavy enough as it was, and enemy infantry was ‘now in full possession of Pt 175’; his losses were mounting, so Tomlinson's men ‘went to ground about 300 yards from that point [the cairn] and managed to beat off an attack… with our own fire power.’ This spirited action quietened the enemy and gave a breathing space during which the position was strengthened, a party of nineteen of A Company under Lieutenant Campbell and some stragglers of 25 Battalion were brought in on the right, and contact was eventually made with the 24th's D Company, which had by this time been ‘pretty badly mauled’.
Thus the day drew to a close, and the fighting with it. Shuttleworth had decided to hold the ground now in his grasp, bringing up tools for the men to dig in and calling up his own A and B Companies later to form a reserve. Major Burton had reported to Shuttleworth and explained the situation as best he could. ‘I could not give him a complete picture,’ he says, ‘… as I had not seen all the left sector….’ Burton was worried for the safety of Henderson's group of A Company, some 300 yards in front of the new positions, and also for any survivors there might be of Robertshaw's 15 Platoon. He dreaded a second mischance like that on the right when men of 24 and 25 Battalions had fired at each other.
This final line was well short of the farthest reached by 25 Battalion and a long way short
of its hopes. The wadi curling from south to west, which had served the enemy all afternoon
as a hidden avenue of reinforcement for any part of the front, remained in his hands, though the
New Zealand mortars and guns (unknown to their observers and crews, who had been firing
blind) had dotted it with wounded and dead. The slopes from the cairn southwards where the
first prisoners had been taken were back in enemy hands, and beyond them towards the west
the ground held many wounded and dead of both sides. Somewhere between there and the
escarpment Henderson was still holding out in a little island of some thirty A Company men.
There was movement in the darkness and not all of it German. Lieutenant Ormond, for example,
‘collected some of our wounded, Tom Gaddum, L-Cpl F. J. Gaddum. L-Cpl H. McA. Campbell.
On the right the line rested well short of the farthest advance of B Company of 25 Battalion,
though how far II and 12 Platoons got before they turned back can only be guessed from accounts
such as Bellerby's and Reed's. Bellerby, with Sanders and McNicol, had been lying still for
about four hours—‘Most of the time… the fire was too hot for us to move’. About 5 p.m.
this fire had eased off and ‘my mates assisted me back to the crest about 2-300 yards behind,’
says Bellerby. From there an A Company truck, hastened by mortar fire, took the three wounded
men back to the dressing station. Hoppe (and presumably Bray) was picked up about the same
time by a Bren carrier sent up by ‘three boys of my own platoon.’ Simonsen of 15 Platoon,
during a lull in the firing,
heard someone calling. Taking a quick look on raised hands, I discerned a soldier some fifteen feet away, wounded.
I wormed my way up to him, to find him in a very low condition. Basil Cook, Pte B.J. Cooke.
Late at night Simonsen was picked up by a German ambulance car. Such was the confusion of the night that it was a matter of luck whether the wounded here were picked up by
friend or enemy and 8 other wounded of 15 Platoon, luckier than Simonsen, were brought back behind our lines.
Simonsen was in Cpl Ussher's section, which had 5 killed, 3 wounded and safe (including Ussher), and 2 captured;
all 10 of the section were hit. Out of 34 of 15 Platoon who went into action, 14 were killed, 9 wounded and safe,
and 6 captured (of whom most if not all were wounded). This was a heavier rate of casualties even than 12 Platoon's,
which had 9 killed; the section which included Reed had 4 killed or mortally wounded and 3 wounded out of 10.
Colonel Shuttleworth was indefatigable; he personally sited, often under fire, almost all the section posts on the right. It was far into the night before he allowed himself any rest from the duties which crowded upon him. Darkness cased his anxiety for the right flank, but the situation there was still somewhat tense, as Private Shakespear recalls it:
Towards dark the firing died down on both sides and we moved to flatter ground up on the escarpment. The
Germans were fairly close, we could hear them giving orders and lining up their guns and vehicles on the flat below
and a little way ahead. Flares were being used freely by the enemy. We just lay on bare ground, but dug in later
as best we could. Pte Fleming, Pte D. Fleming.
D Company of the 24th had already lost 27 men, about a third of them killed. B Company
of the 25th numbered only two officers (Wilson and Cathie) and 36 other ranks, a sad drop from
the 120-odd at the start of the attack. Even 9 Platoon of Its II killed and missing included the platoon commander, Lt T. W. Daly. Lt Ormond met one of the tank officers ‘in the bag’ and learned from him that he had ‘disobeyed three orders to
pull out’ and was ‘about to obey an emergency call’ from his OC to withdraw at once when his tank was hit. His
crew—and others—did not want to leave the infantry unsupported and dangerously exposed on their objective.
Some tanks fell victim to 88-mm guns in the Blockhouse area; others, as we have seen, were knocked out by
tanks and anti-tank guns on or below the escarpment. Eight enemy tanks were destroyed.
The darkness held other dangers too, as Privates R. T. K. Thomson of 25 Battalion mortar platoon found when he made his way back that night. He heard New Zealand voices and headed in their direction. Then a truck drove near and was loudly challenged to halt. It drove on and a Bren opened fire. The truck stopped and Thomson went over to it. He found Captain Roberts of A Company (who had been wounded that afternoon) lying on one side of it, his driver on the other. Roberts, dying, looked up at Thomson and said: ‘Tough luck, being hit by your own chaps.’
For those who had survived the day's fighting and who now had to hold the ground won,
there was not time yet for the shock of their various personal experiences of violence and bereavement to set in—that was not to develop for three or four days yet. In the meantime, as Burton
says, ‘There were at least 100 men of the Bn still on or about Pt 175 and they were hungry, sad,
and damn cold.’ Burton, the calm and competent ex-Territorial, had compassion and energy,
and he got tea and a stew made and took these and greatcoats and blankets to his men at the
front. ‘So with a coat, a blanket and a stomach full of hot stew the troops soon lost that feeling
of misery which the strain of battle, hunger and cold had brought on.’ He was only sorry that
he could not do the same for Henderson's group, not knowing where it was, but it was at least
good to learn, as he did during the night, that it was still holding out. D Company of 24 Battalion
was similarly cared for, as Private R. D. Lynn notes: ‘Cpl Swanson Cpl W. T. Swanson.
If the dark brought relief to the men at the front, in the RAP at the wadi to the rear it meant little or nothing. ‘Doc’ McCarthy, 25 Battalion's Medical Officer, Padre Willis, medical orderlies and volunteer helpers and even a captured German doctor, as Private H. R. Mackenzie says, worked ‘almost to the point of collapsing.’ Mackenzie himself, when free from his signals duties, ‘helped dress various chaps with the result that my clothes from the knees downwards were very bloodstained and dirty…. I helped to spoon feed some of the poor chaps who could not move.’ But grimness was not the only quality of the scene, as Private G. H. Logan of 24 Battalion's A Company reminds us:
Just on dusk the prisoners (Germans) started to come in and our platoon was given 200 to look after….An order
was given to take away the prosoners's boots—this was done and I accompanied the truckload of boots to Coy HQs
where I was informed that the order had been countermanded and to return the boots to the prisoners. The 200 pairs
were dumped in a pile and
Next day, according to Private G. R. Mansel, 24 Battalion's B Company was given a task
which has a familiar ring—‘clearing up a few machine gun posts at Pt 175.’ ‘Our platoon, No. 10,
hadn't gone many hundred yards,’ he continues, ‘when it became obvious we were in for a full
scale attack.’ But the task was accomplished at the cost of some thirty casualties and Hill 175
was ours. The huge enemy assembly to the south was taking its threat eastwards. To the west
the Blockhouse invited attack, and beyond it the tomb of
WAR DIARIES and other official documents have provided the framework only; this account has been prepared chiefly from interviews and correspondence with dozens of men who took part in the action. Where their contributions have been directly quoted the author's debt to them is explicit. Among others whose help has not thus been acknowledged are: B. Campbell, J. V. Elliott, K. B. Neilsen, L. M. Nelley, F. R. Porter, R. S. Tappin, T. G. Taylor, G. Thomason, R. T. K. Thomson, and D. A. Walton. Colonels H. G. Burton and G. J. McNaught have been particularly helpful.
THE MAPS are by L. D. McCormick. The photographs come from various collections which are stated where they are known:
S. Lyle-Smythe Cover and page 32 (top)
New Zealand Army Official, W. Timmins page 15
G.J. McNaught
page 16
(top)
R. Arundel
page 16
(bottom)
J. B. Hardcastle
page 17
(bottom)
A. C. W. Mantell-Harding
page 18
(top)
C. H. Cathie
page 18
(centre)
K. B. Neilsen
page 18
(bottom)
New Zealand Army Official page 31
THE AUTHOR,
the type used throughout the series is
Aldine Bembo
which was revived for monotype from a rare book printed by aldus
in 1495 * the text is set in 12 point on
a body of 14 point
cover photograph
A digger at work in the escape tunnel of Stalag Luft III
Drawing by Ley Kenyon
DURING World War II over 9000 New Zealanders became prisoners of
war. Of these 718 made successful escapes, 236 from German hands, 480
from the Italians and 2 from the Japanese. Several have recounted their experiences in published books. Many equally remarkable exploits are recorded only
in the reports held by the
This final number of the Episodes and Studies series is a survey of the whole field. It could have been a work of immense length and yet of very great interest.
The author has asked me to acknowledge, on his behalf, his indebtedness to
Mr W. Wynne Mason, the author of Prisoners of War, a volume of the Official
History series, ‘whose research was my primary source.’
THE DRAWINGS by Ley Kenyon (cover and inside cover) are used by permission of the publishers,
E. F. Cooperpage 15 (top)
J. McDevittpage 16(top left)
Peter McIntyrepage 16 (
James Reidpage 17 (bottom centre)
New Zealand Army Official, W. A. Brodie page 17 (bottom right)
D.J. Gibbspage 18 (top left)
P. W. Batespage 18 (top right)
T. G. Beddingpage 18 (centre left)
E. R. Silverwoodpage 18 (centre right)
Section 53 of the Army Act makes it a military offence not to rejoin HM Forces if it is in one's power to do so.Prisoners of war are exhorted to escape.
The principle was also to occupy the minds of the prisoners themselves, for few had settled down willingly to the dreary occupation of being a prisoner of war, and all found the humiliation and boredom of prison life oppressive. Many men dallied with the idea of escaping. Escapes— successful, failed, or future—had the strongest moral effect on everybody inside a prison camp The idea that they could at some time escape was a great enhancement of prisoners' self-esteem. It was the principal means open to them (apart from direct sabotage and going slow on working parties, the former a matter of opportunity, the latter a routine) of actively returning to the struggle against the enemy. With any man who got away went the thoughts and aspirations of the much larger number who had to stay behind. Successful escapes bolstered morale.
Some men were persistent and determined escapers. Prowess in this field of action did not always coincide with outstanding fighting ability, but often the two qualities were closely associated in the same person. An astonishing number of men escaped several times; these prisoners gave their whole minds to the problems of organising escapes, were alert to seize every opportunity and, if necessary, to create them. Some men escaped for negative reasons: their overwhelming hatred of prison life. Others escaped from a sense of adventure, some from a sense of duty
The enemy, too, had to spend a great deal of thought and energy in dealing with escapes and
minimising the possibility of their occurrence. The German camps were surrounded by formidable barriers of barbed wire, with sentries in observation towers equipped with searchlights. In
In many camps escape committees were set up with the express object of providing would-be
escapers with the materials and information they needed. In officers' camps the senior British
officer's permission was usually obtained before an escape was undertaken. Senior officers were
concerned to see that the attempt would be reasonably likely to succeed, not a futile gesture
which would only provoke the enemy, and also that it should not prejudice the success of other
parties. Cases occurred where the same device for getting out of camp was hit upon almost
simultaneously and quite independently by different parties, and its use by one would obviously
make it impossible for a second party to use the same means.
The actual organisation varied from camp to camp. In some the committee rigidly controlled
escapes, equipping the escapers from a pool of materials collected from everybody in the camp.
Nobody was allowed to make an attempt until he was perfectly equipped and thoroughly briefed
with all information that he needed. In others it was little more than a discussion club. In many
camps those who had escape materials in their possession—clothes, compasses, maps—preferred
to hold them in case they themselves should later wish to make an attempt; some would part
with these articles only in exchange for money (unselfishness was not universal in prison camps:
conditions of strain may bring out the worst as well as the best in men). Some escape committees
were indefatigable, collating information about trains, passes, permits, and the thousand and one
other details of civilian life in an enemy country in time of war which had to be known by escapers;
coaching every aspiring escaper in the best way to cope with every imaginable contingency;
teaching appropriate phrases of the enemy language to those who were unfamiliar with it. Every
frustrated escaper was eagerly questioned when he came back to camp, and the lessons of his
failure taken to heart. The information inside any camp about conditions outside might not
always be accurate. For instance, in some Austrian camps in
A number of prisoners found fulfilment for their own aspirations in unselfishly forwarding
the escapes of others. Among these men were the expert forgers of passports, and the tailors who
made up blankets or other improvised materials into passable imitations of civilian clothes. A
Zealand major (Neill Rattray Maj N. A. Rattray, MBE; Waimate, born South to Freedom, Hon. T. C. F. Prittie and W. Earle Edwards (Hutchinson), p. 320.Life Without Ladies, Colin Armstrong (
At one of the moments of greatest importance in the conduct of an escape, the actual passing
An escaper's equipment was obviously limited in bulk. He could take a pack with him but
not one of conspicuous size. Thus it was rarely possible for him to carry much more than
ten days' food, and his need to replenish the supply when it ran out would lead to a crisis in his
career of freedom. Some escapers tried to make their food last them longer by preparing especially rich mixtures from the most concentrated of the foodstuffs in their
Next to food the most pressing need of the escaper was civilian clothing. In his own uniform
he was immediately conspicuous among civilians. Clothes were made up inside the camp by
expert or amateur tailors whose work with blankets and portions of uniform, aided by the judicious
use of dyes, would have amazed their mothers and wives. Materials brought into camp for amateur
theatricals often gave these tailors an extra source of supply. Men out on working parties picked
up clothing from civilians by barter, the cigarettes, soap, and chocolate out of
To get out of camp, tools such as wire-cutters or files might be needed. These were hard to come by, and it was practically impossible to get them in a parcel. They were nearly always acquired by barter or by theft.
Escapers who intended to make their own way without reliance on outside help needed maps
and a compass. A few maps had been obtained by fair means or foul in most prison camps. They
Most escapers felt they needed money. In Italy the practice of issuing special ‘camp lire’ made
it impossible to accumulate money, except illicitly by selling valuables to guards or civilians. In
The escaper had to have personal papers if he was to mingle with the civilian population, more
especially as identity papers are always carried in normal times by the citizens of most continental
countries. Many escapers who could not produce them came to grief. It was almost impossible
to travel by train in
Although only a small proportion of escapers had friends outside before they escaped or
any outside help arranged beforehand, few escapes succeeded without a great deal of help from
sympathisers in the enemy country itself. Some of the help was involuntary; the friendship of
guards was cultivated (the contents of
In Greece and in
An escape is better defined as the complete journey from a prison camp to ultimate freedom
than as the initial evasion from enemy hands. For the escaper perhaps the most dramatic
moment was the exit from the camp itself. Months of observant study were needed to decide
how to get out; an assiduous but unobtrusive watch had to be kept on the whole system of guards
and barriers to find both the most favourable moment during the twenty-four hours for the
attempt and the most favourable place. The main methods of getting out of camp, subject of
course to considerable variation in detail, were by cutting through the wire or finding some
point where it was possible to climb out without alarming sentries, by tunnelling under the wire,
by disguise or impersonation, or by hiding in rubbish or clinging under carts which were passing
out of the camp. The other two important methods of escape were from working parties and
from parties in transit, particularly from trains.
It was no easy matter to cut through the outer wire of an established prison camp. The fence would probably be 12 feet high and double, with a jumble of concertina wire in the centre, thickly hung with bits of tin ready to jangle loudly at the slightest touch. Inside the wire a margin of soil about ten feet wide was kept soft by constant raking so that footprints would show up. In Japanese camps a few strands of wire were electrified. The whole fence was lit at night by high arc-lamps; guarded by day and night, it was overlooked by high watchtowers on which the sentries had movable searchlights to help them in. their task. Machine guns were mounted in these towers covering the approach to the wire, and the sentries themselves were armed.
In addition to sentries perched up in these observation towers, many German and Italian camps
also had sentries on beats outside the wire. In Germany the prisoners were generally forbidden
Lt-Col W. B. Thomas, DSO, MC and bar, m.i.d., US Silver Star; Kenya; born Dare to Be Free (Wingate,
Tunnelling might be described as the escaper's favourite indoor sport. If it succeeded, tunnelling
out of camp outwitted the enemy more spectacularly than any other type of escape. The absorbing
work and long-term planning involved, demanding the loyal co-operation of a fairly large body
of men, made digging a tunnel enthralling as a sport even if it never became a means of escape.
The two great difficulties of tunnelling were the disposal of the spoil inconspicuously and the
concealment of the entrance. At Lamsdorf (Stalag VIIIB) a tunnel 130 yards long led 10 feet
below the surface from a hut in the Canadian compound to bushy ground outside affording good
cover; it was lined throughout with bedboards, and air was taken down into it along a trunk
built from tins fitted together (the
In nearly every permanent camp in
One of the neatest tunnelling exploits was that in which nineteen men escaped from Gruppignano
in his, camp, men set to work in four-man shifts to build a tunnel,
With tunnels may be mentioned drains. In Italy, in particular, old buildings often concealed
ancient cloacae, sometimes of considerable size, big enough at least for a man to crawl along.
It was by means of a tunnel linking drains that a small group escaped in the Unwilling Guests, J. D. Gerard (A. H. and A. W. Reed), p. 97.
The method of passing the guards at a camp entrance by impersonation or disguise was obviously not a mode of escape that could be used frequently. The more ambitious escapers imitated
some personage who was on a visit to the camp—the representative of the International Red
Cross, a German officer, an Italian interpreter complete with beard. This required careful preparation, but although very risky, usually worked for those bold enough to try it. Some, however,
relied on improvisation, on the inspiration of the moment. One New Zealand sergeant escaped
from a hospital in Maj F. E. Webster;
Close study of the method of garbage disposal in a camp might allow an escaper a ride out to freedom. Some men had themselves wrapped up in bundles of rubbish. Others clung to the undersides of carts or hung there uneasily in rope slings, hoping not to be seen. Some escapes were made in North Africa by this means.
In working parties in Account by Sgt B. J. Crowley.
In the first days after capture in
One of the most courageous escapes from trains was made by a New Zealand sergeant-major
(R. H. Thomson WO I R. H. Thomson, DCM, m.i.d.;
The moment they entered the closed trucks in which they were to travel from
The escape of a wagonload of sick officers is among the most heroic of train-jumping episodes.
Perhaps because the prisoners were considered too ill to be dangerous, the grating in the roof of their
truck was left unsecured. A Montenegrin lieutenant gave a practical demonstration of how it
could be lifted. At dusk these men all jumped the train; a man who had his leg in plaster had
his crutch handed out to him through the hole in the roof while he waited on the running board
before jumping. A New Zealand medical officer (W. G. Gray Capt W. G. Gray, m.i.d.;
Halts gave some limited opportunities to make a break. Men were alert to seize the shadow
of an opportunity. During an Allied air raid on the line between
No method of escape was easy. None was safe. Although he devoted much ingenuity to deceiving his captors, the escaper could never be sure that he would not get a bullet in his receding back. If he was recaptured in enemy country, although he was generally honourably treated, even with a certain admiration, he could never be sure that he would not be the victim of atrocity.
The Germans caught many men at
Some prisoners got out of the
Life in the mountain villages of Sgt P. L. Winter; Tikorangi, Waitara; born NZ
Alarmed by the number of prisoners scattered through the hills of Dvr E. J. A. Phelan, MM; born
The escapers scattered through the hill villages were all eager to get a passage to the Middle
East and return to their units. The only ways of doing this were in Greek fishing boats or in the
submarines of the
Some were indefatigable in their search for boats. In Crete Driver Phelan made many attempts
to negotiate a sale. Twice he actually set out: once the boat sank a few hundred yards out, and
on the second time the motor broke down a mile from the shore. On a third occasion he carried
out the much bolder plan which led to his recapture. Equipped with arms, a
A New Zealand sergeant (J. A. Redpath WO II J. A. Redpath, DCM, MM;
One New Zealander's experience was typical of that of the hundreds of men who were taken
off the south coast of WO II F. M. Diver, MM; Rototuna,
While lodged in a small civil jail in Together with those soldiers fortunate enough to avoid capture altogether, some hundreds
of escapers roamed
As they had done in
Here is a typical escaper's experience. About 18 miles out of
One of these three men escaped later from
The land route to ignis fatuus of many escapers in
A New Zealander, who had suffered the chagrin of missing a passage to
It was not easy to get a passage away from
The small party under Sergeant Redpath which reached the Greek mainland from
Their first seizure of a vessel went smoothly enough, but unluckily the fuel tanks were empty: she had just finished a voyage. Later they boarded a caique of 150 tons and seized it at pistol point, but this too did not have the fuel to reach Egypt.
These two frustrated attempts showed the escapers the wisdom of acquiring a supply of diesel
oil for themselves. Their third seizure of a ship went well. They—the party had now grown
to about twenty—boarded a caique at night, shut up the Greek crew in their own cabins, and
put to sea. They had fuel for thirty-six hours' sailing. Their navigation instruments were an
army compass and a protractor, while their chart was a small-scale map of
Lieutenant Thomas, whose escape from
On Easter Saturday
Account by Pte R. Kendrick.In the turmoil that followed the Italian armistice of en masse.
One Fascist commandant had declared his intention of handing over his camp intact to the Germans. The camp leader announced this to the prisoners under cover of a gathering at a baseball
match, telling them it was now a case of every man for himself. That evening many men escaped
through a hole in the wire cut for them by friendly guards. Their emotions on looking back at
the lights of the camp from outside would have been shared by many others: ‘The thought that
Tedesco, Italian for German.
This party had been lucky; it had reached the Allied lines in a few days. Other parties later took as many months to do the same or a much shorter journey.
All over War in Val d'Orcia, Iris Origo (Jonathan Cape), p. 146.
An escaper met a family whose five sons had all been shot by the Germans for helping fugitive
prisoners of war, but they still gave them their help: ‘“They have taken everything from me.
What more can they take? I started with my sons on this road, I shall continue along it….”’The Way Out, Uys Krige (Collins), p. 307. This South African writer's book should not be confused with another
excellent narrative of escape in
The risks run by the Italian people on behalf of British prisoners were real enough. A prisoner
who spent a year in hiding in
It is fair to say that the average escaped prisoner was genuinely surprised by the welcome he
received from the Italian people. The difference between the negligence and inefficiency of the
Italian administration of the prison camps and the kindness, courage, and generosity of the illiterate
peasants was as sharp as it was unexpected. Undoubtedly some Italians helped escapers in order
to ingratiate themselves with what they thought was now the winning side. Others seemed
to cast off the fears that had weighed on them under Fascism, and sustained by their hatred of
the Germans, whose brutality and undisguised contempt for their former allies had earned them
this feeling, took the greatest risks for their guests without any hope or contemplation of reward.
An English escaper remarked that his time in hiding with the Italian people was ‘the greatest
experience of my life’, and never again could he think in the narrow terms of nations and races.The Way Out, Uys Krige, p. 309.
Before the armistice it had been difficult to escape from See 2 Lt J. Denvir, DCM; born Farewell Campo 12, James Hargest (Michael Joseph; Life Without Ladies, Colin Armstrong (Partisan, James Caffin (Collins,
The conditions along the old frontier of
Not all had such bad luck, though the Yugoslav partisans were not then entirely co-operative.
Another party, largely composed of men who had escaped from Campo PG 107 and led by two
officers (one of whom—Captain Riddiford Capt D. J. Riddiford, MC;
The adventures of the escapers who got through to the British lines in southern The Way Out, Uys Krige, pp. 371–3.The Way Out, by Malcolm J. Mason (Paul); Unwilling Guests, by J. D. Gerard (A. H. and A. W. Reed); and PoorPeople—Poor Us, by J. E. Broad (H. H. Tombs).
Still another way out was by sea. A number of men were evacuated down the Adriatic from
near
When the hospitality of the Italian people had become strained and Fascist activity more
menacing, many men were encouraged by their proximity to its frontiers to escape to
In Switzerland a curious new phase of prisoner-of-war life began. Swiss neutrality was rigidly
enforced. The escapers were obliged to remain, but they were no longer in the fullest sense
prisoners. They enjoyed some freedom of movement, and they could work or study as they
pleased. They lived in camps of about 200, well found but not luxurious. At a typical working
camp,
The German system of placing men out in small working camps and leaving them in comparative freedom ‘on the job’ favoured escapes. It was so much easier to escape from a working
party, as compared with a regular prison camp, that many officers exchanged identities with
men to secure this opportunity. Immediately after the intense disappointment of being taken
from
The officers from the Italian camps were quartered first at
In Germany itself the scales were heavily weighted against the escaper. Most escapers pretended
to be foreign workers, a good enough alibi so far as language was concerned, but one which might
get the impersonator into difficulties if he met anyone of the nationality he had assumed. As
nearly all the escapers in
Another factor that worked against the escaper was the scruffmess of his home-made clothes. Even if he were wearing genuine civilian garments, he often had to show himself to the public in clothes in which he had slept or in which he had been crawling about in fields or swamps or wading rivers in darkness. The German civilians were generally clean and tidily dressed, making the travelling escaped prisoner of war conspicuous by his untidiness and poor clothes and possibly by personal dirtiness as well.
The best chance of leaving In Farewell Campo 12, Brigadier Hargest describes how he escaped from
The escaper who tried to remain entirely independent of all outside help and avoid all contacts
with anyone, walking by night and hiding by day, had practically no chance of getting out of
The recaptured escaper was lucky if he fell into the hands of the civil police. Those whom the
In the general disintegration of
At first sight the route out of
A New Zealander (Sergeant Crowley Sgt B. J. Crowley, DCM, EM; Arbeitsdienstausweis (worker's pass), an Eisenbahnausweis (permit to travel by rail),
and a Personalausweis (personal identity papers). One afternoon in them!) took him to their own
barracks. There to his surprise and delight was his friend who had missed the tram and the first
train; he had caught a different series of trains without mishap. The Frenchmen hid them for
three days and then smuggled them on board a Swedish coal ship they were detailed to load.
The two escapers hid in the middle of the coal but under a ventilator. Some of the crew knew
of their presence and helped them to defeat the searching
A few months later a party of three (two New Zealanders Drivers E. R. Silverwood and E. J. A. Phelan.
The prison camp established at Sagan, between
A number of the officers in the stalag's North Compound, which was opened early in Escape to Danger, Flight-Lieutenant Paul Brickhill and Conrad Norton (
Of the three tunnels, ‘Tom’, ‘Dick’, and ‘Harry’, begun at Luft III, the first was found by the Germans when nearly finished; the second, never taken far, was used as a dump for the spoil from the first; while the third, ‘Harry’, was taken 340 feet at a depth of 30 feet and broken on the night of 24-25 March 1944, approximately a year after the North Compound escapers began operations. It had been hoped to pass over 200 men out through ‘Harry’. Thirty per cent of the escapers had been nominated by the escape committee from among those who had contributed most to the project; the rest had been selected by lot. Almost six hundred men had helped with the work, and it was an invidious task to decide who should share in the reward. The end of the tunnel proved to be much nearer to the wire and its sentries than had been calculated, and emergence from it needed great care. Then sand fell in the tunnel itself through the bulky packs of some escapers catching in the wooden lining as they were hauled along its trolley way. With these delays the hoped-for rate of egress was never achieved, but seventy-six men got away before an astounded sentry, patrolling outside the wire in the early morning, nearly trod in the hole and raised the alarm.
So far the Luft III break had been an escape among other escapes, though certainly an exceptionally well-organised and successful one. It was the sequel which made it one of the tragedies of
the war. The whole countryside was raised to catch the escapers. Huge numbers of Germans,
troops and civilians, were engaged in the round-up; in this way alone the escape had hindered
the German war effort. The reprisals taken on the men in camp were insignificant, but a few
weeks after the break the new commandant of the camp, severely embarrassed by the duty,
announced officially to the senior British officer that forty-one of the escapers had been shot
‘while resisting arrest or attempting further escape after arrest’. The senior British officer's question
as to how many had been wounded was unanswerable. The list of those who had died in this
way finally reached fifty. It included two members of the
See Men escaped into Partisan, by James Caffin (the exploits of John Denvir).
In
Things might not always go so smoothly. Another party about a month later on approximately
the same journey came partially to grief. A New Zealander (Sapper Roy Natusch Spr R. S. Natusch, MM; Maraekakaho, Hastings; born NZ
Few prisoners of war escaped from. Japanese hands. On the islands of the East Indies thousands
of miles of sea separated them from friendly territory. In Malaya and
A pilot officer of the Sqn Ldr E. D. Crosslecy, MC, m.i.d.;
Another New Zealander, a lieutenant in the RNZNVR (R. B. Goodwin Lt-Cdr R. B. Goodwin, OBE; Arthur Barker Ltd.Hongkong Escape.
TheItalians were much more deeply moved by successful escapes than the Germans. They
vented their spite first on those who remained behind, imposing restrictions which, even if
apparently petty, could be exceedingly irritating in the cramped unnatural atmosphere of a
prison camp. The first target for their vengeance was the
The Germans took escapes rather more lightheartedly, almost, it might be said, in a sporting spirit. But German officers and guards could expect punishment for negligence. It was unusual, in fact, for the prisoners who remained behind not to suffer in some way for the escapes of others, even if this did not go beyond the inconvenience of extra searches and roll calls. The recaptured escaper was rarely harshly treated. He could expect to be sentenced to up to a month in the cells, but the punishment was usually less, a week or a fortnight for the first offence. The execution of the Luft III escapers was so exceptionally atrocious that the men who remained behind in that camp at first believed that the announcement of the fifty deaths was only a ruse to discourage further escaping and that the victims were all alive in some other camp.
The prisoners of the Japanese could expect only death on recapture, possibly in an unpleasant form. Indeed, an escape from Japanese hands was a neck or nothing enterprise. Men who attempted escape from Changi Peninsula are known to have been shot. It was the fixed policy of the Japanese to execute recaptured escapers; it was also their policy to take severe physical reprisals on those who remained behind, particularly on the men sharing the hut of those who got away.
The chief risk that the escaper faced was of being shot by a sentry while actually getting away.
Naturally this risk varied with time and place but was real enough in most camps, even if less
important on a break from a working camp. Train escapes were in a special class for danger.
On the trains taking British prisoners to
* * * * *
It has been mentioned that the two things most needed for successful escape were persistence and good luck. The personal records of some escapers are amazing for the tenacity with which in the most unfavourable circumstances, and while under suspicion and disabilities from previous unsuccessful attempts, they stuck to the intention to escape. The hardened escaper, like the masters of other arts, tended to simplify, to use the most direct and most obvious methods, and to improvise when the occasion offered itself at some uncalculated juncture. Examples might be drawn from the complete escape careers of individuals to show to what point they were carried by their own unquenchable optimism and self-confidence. Few of those who escaped did so on their first attempt; one man made at least fifteen escapes before he finally reached safety. The boldness and enterprise needed for success were not confined to the comparatively few who reached freedom. As far as personal qualities went, many hundreds of other New Zealanders had all that was needed for the most ingenious and hazardous escapes.
The element of luck was so strong, so paramount, in successful escapes that it is both a distortion and an injustice to praise the escaper at the expense of the failed or would-be escaper. Some of the most gallant escapes, considered simply as actions, were failures; even when the initial evasion had been made good, a great proportion of escapers failed to leave the enemy country, and their possibly bold and original plan of leaving a camp was successfully executed in vain. There was nothing for them to do but to try again. The man whom no disappointment could overwhelm is the true epitome of the escaper, the persistent to whom good luck comes in the end.
THE AUTHOR: