大象传媒

This story was submitted to the People鈥檚 War site by Norman Wigley of the 大象传媒 Radio Sheffield Action Desk on behalf of Mr George Martin, and has been added to the site with his permission. The author fully understands the site鈥檚 terms and conditions.

This edited account is taken from the book 鈥淐assino to the River Po. Italy 1944-45. A personal account of life and action in a tank troop鈥� written and published by George Martin.

Other parts to this story can be found at:

Part 1: A7832441

Part 2: A7832702

Part 3: A7832964

Part 5: A7833549

Part 6: A7833710

Part 7: A7833837

Part 8: A7833972

Part 9: A7834043

Part 10: A7834179

On 8th June 1944, we found ourselves with our replacement tank and heading north east from Rome to the area of Monte Rotondo, an area of rolling hills and pleasant valleys. Later that morning we received orders over the radio to go to a hill feature where we were to meet the rest of the squadron.
We made good progress, finally arriving at a track which would take us to the hill over to our right. We had another troop and Squadron HQ following in our rear, as we nosed forward towards the ridge where we halted 鈥榟ull down鈥� to look over the crest.
The sight that met our eyes was, to say the least, quite unexpected: some 800 to 1000 yards distant we saw a factory and walled enclosure, various out-buildings and the whole scene one of feverish activity. By the time we had studied the scene, the rest of the squadron had drawn up along the crest, guns trained on the buildings below us.

Word of our advance must only recently have reached the Germans, caught them on the hop, I thought, they were busily loading up trucks and all manner of vehicles ready for evacuation. Troops seemed to be everywhere, mounting trucks and half-tracks, haste was the keynote.

For a minute or so, we watched, then the first salvo crashed out from our tanks鈥� guns. From then on we continued independent firing, H.E. and machine guns continued the onslaught. With small arms only, they did not have a chance; the whole area was soon covered in fire, smoke and dust. I noted with some surprise that no effort was made to offer to surrender.

It was not long before the action was over, and we were moving on once again, across country now, and as leading troop again, moved forward from ridge to ridge. We then received orders to go to a hill feature over to our right. We were told it had been checked by a recce. group and found clear. We always treated this information with some suspicion, but with my two other tanks, one on each side just to my rear, we made our way through the fields and hedges; apart from a shell or two there was no opposition.

As we reached the bottom of the hill, I could see some patches of turned earth, which more careful examination showed to be well hidden slit trenches, and I could see movement! There must have been consternation in the trenches when our tanks rolled up, rather than infantry. We dealt with the trenches as we went through; their rifles and automatics could not match the constant movement and fire from the tanks鈥� machine guns. We moved forward to a second group of trenches just below the crest of the ridge and gave them a short burst of machine gun fire. Ever so slowly, we saw a bayonet come into view carrying a filthy piece of cloth; this was followed by the rifle and eventually the soldier who half climbed and half fell out of the trench. He stumbled towards us with arms held high. Some yards in front of the tank I yelled 鈥淗alt鈥�; he froze, and on a signal, dropped his rifle on the ground in front of the tank track. We moved forward slightly so that the rifle was safely under the track.

I could almost feel sorry for him, he was terrified, almost a nervous wreck in fact. His raised hands shook. His uniform had been ripped open, and he had cut out the front of his shirt to use as a flag of truce. There he stood, clothes and trouser fly open, his vest and long underpants as black and filthy as his shirt. I told him to fasten up his uniform.

I then signalled him to climb up to me; this he did willingly. 鈥淐areful Sir,鈥� warned my gunner, 鈥渋t may only be an act he鈥檚 putting on.鈥� 鈥淚 doubt it,鈥� I replied, 鈥渉e seems too scared to blow his nose.鈥� In my best German I asked for his paybook - this indicated that he belonged to a Panzer Grenadier Regiment and I reported this to HQ. He then pointed into the turret and then to himself. 鈥淢e,鈥� he said, 鈥淣o 鈥� stay there,鈥� I replied firmly. At this stage he appeared to be getting very agitated and, delving into his pocket, brought out a fist full of paper money; which he thrust towards me saying, 鈥淵ou.鈥� Then, pointing to his wrist watch and indicated that he wanted me to have that as well. He seemed intent on buying himself a place in my tank!

I made it plain I was not interested and asked if there were any more soldiers in the trenches. He said there were 5 or 6 more. I could see some men watching and waved them over. Out they came with hands held high and no visible weapons. My first prisoner was still begging to be allowed into the turret. They grouped themselves on the left side of my tank and I was just about to get out and collect their paybooks, when the firing began. Looking back, I sometimes wonder if they knew what to expect. Crouched down, they were protected by the tank from the murderous hail of fire which soon arrived.

The first bullets whistled past like a swarm of angry bees. A few hit the tank. A leg was thrust past me into the turret hatch, 鈥淗err Major, bitte,鈥� wailed my 鈥榝riend鈥�, 鈥淥h bitte.鈥� He was ready to climb into the turret with me. 鈥淥ut!鈥� I snapped and he found himself looking into the barrel of my .38 revolver; it had a sobering effect on him. 鈥淕et down there with the others.鈥�

The fire was coming from an area some 200 yards to our right rear 鈥� a hedgerow running more or less at right angles to our line of advance, and behind it, I suspected, some cover such as a shallow ditch; for most of its length it was spitting fire. Turrets were traversed to bring guns to bear and the whole length was raked with machine gun fire and a few H.E. for good measure. In ten minutes it was all over and the Guards who later took over the area found the hedgerow littered with corpses.

Having sent my P.O.W.'s back, I set off up the hill to observe over the crest, and glancing back, I was dismayed to see the 4 tanks of Squadron HQ sitting on the forward slope of the hill, some 600 yards to my rear in a very exposed position, and in breach of basic tactics.

From my vantage point, I could see the next ridge some 600 yards away. The main point of interest in the valley was a solidly built house, over to the right on the ridge. Its position made it ideal for an observation post and there seemed to be considerable activity around it. Carefully watching through binoculars, I noticed a reflection of light from a bedroom window, and sure enough, I could make out the 鈥楧onkey's Ears鈥� rangefinder equipment of an artillery observation unit; at the same time I realised he would be able to see the slope to our rear where our HQ tanks were sitting.

Quickly my gunner traversed on to the target, but we were too late; before we could fire a shot, I heard a battery firing off, the whine of shells over our heads made us fear for the worst. We quickly fired two shells 鈥� one hit the house wall, but the second went straight in the window where I had seen the O.P. Glancing back, I was appalled to see shells bursting on the distant hillside, among and around our Squadron HQ tanks. We continued to fire, 鈥淚t鈥檒l be all Krauts and brick dust when I鈥檝e finished with the bloody place,鈥� said the gunner.

In the enemy attack, our 2nd I/C had been killed and the Squadron Leader wounded along with a couple of P.O.W.s. There was a stunned silence among the crew on hearing this news 鈥� our 2nd I/C was a very popular officer, fearless in battle and with the M.C. to his credit.

We were ordered to hold our position and had plenty to occupy us as we continued to fire on enemy positions. The shelling eventually eased somewhat and by early evening, we were ordered to retire; our place being taken by 鈥楢鈥� Squadron. As we headed back to where Squadron HQ had been, we kept to lower ground and thought we hadn鈥檛 been noticed, when suddenly we found ourselves entering what seemed to be a solid wall of shell fire. They whistled over, bursting ahead, behind and all around us. The air was so thick with smoke and dust, that visibility was nil. It seemed that we bore a charmed life, no tank was hit, apart from shrapnel, which did not do any harm to us or damage to the tanks. At one point though, my corporal鈥檚 tank converged with mine, and tracks just touched before we slewed away from each other in the gloom and in another welter of explosions.

Safely through we made our rendezvous with our depleted Squadron HQ. The loss of our two friends and comrades was a bitter blow to the whole squadron, and even the warm summer evening seemed to have an unexpected chill in the air.

Pr-BR

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