Ex Tpr P A Wilcox, ‘B’ Sqn, 8th KRI Hussars.
After the foray in the Villiers Bocage area on June 13/14, we were withdrawn to the area of Briquessard, two or three miles to the north, and for the next two weeks or so the regiment took up a defensive position with the infantry.
It was a miserable time. The weather was bad and the days and nights consisted of a procession of patrols, sniping, mortaring and a bit of random artillery fire. Sleep was a luxury and was usually done with one eye open.
Finally, around the end of the month, we handed over to an American armoured Division and we pulled back for a rest period near the village of Jerusalem. All I can vaguely remember of this period was getting to have a decent wash and shave, getting your boots off and a little more sleep — although most nights we had courtesy calls from the Luftwaffe.
Having lost my own vehicle at Villiers Bocage, I had been riding on one of the motor transport vehicles, but after about a fortnight I was back in my own troop driving a Daimler scout car.
As we got into July we were given the order to move from the Jerusalem area to an area north west of Caen. This town was becoming the whole focal point of the front. I think the general idea at the time was that Montgomery concentrated the bulk of his forces around the town to draw more German forces away from the Americans, and to give them a chance of a break through.
By this time the weather had improved and for a change was getting quite warm. Having got rid of the mud, we now had dust everywhere. As most of the minor roads in this area were unmade, every time anything moved, clouds of dust rose up. A dead give-away to the enemy.
It is said by some that things tend to happen in threes. How true that is I’m not sure, but in my case it did happen.
After my close call at Villiers Bocage, the second event occurred a few days after we had moved into this new area. I was travelling along a minor road on my way back to squadron headquarters. In front of me I could see a small church on the corner of a crossroads. As I got to within 20 yards of it I heard the familiar whirring overhead and explosions going off around me. I suddenly realised that I had invited the personal attention of the German gunners.
I immediately put my foot down and tried a bit of evasive action, which wasn’t very effective, due to the narrow road. I managed to get to the crossroads and then things became rather hazy because I found myself and the vehicle lying on our side in a ditch at the side of the road. Whether it was my bad driving, or a blast from a near miss, or a combination of both, I’ve never been able to fathom.
Meanwhile, shells were still exploding around me and I have a distinct recollection of some dropping in the little graveyard at the side of the church. The thought went through my head that even the dead weren’t safe in this war. After a moment’s panic in the ditch, and realising I was still in one piece, I started to extricate myself, but unfortunately it wasn’t going to be as easy as that.
We had recently been told to place a layer of sand bags on the floors of our vehicles as extra protection from mines, and these had now become dislodged and had wrapped themselves around one of my feet, the foot pedals and also the steering column. From the angle and position I was in, I could barely reach them with one hand.
After some fruitless effort, I gave up and managed to twist myself around to get at the radio. Although the batteries were going flat, I managed to contact the squadron for assistance. They came to my aid quite quickly and once again I had the dubious distinction of being towed away.
In retrospect, it was obvious that the Germans had the crossroads on a fixed line of fire, and any dust cloud in the vicinity brought down immediate fire on the area.
As I have mentioned, the small market town of Caen was now the focal point and in the early days of July it was receiving some special attention from the RAF. After they had reduced it to a pile of rubble, it was given to the Canadians to clear it of any enemy who might have survived.
I have always held the opinion that this bombing was over-done at times and in this particular case, our progress was held up by piles of rubble blocking the road. It had to be bulldozed out of the way before we could move through the town.
There was only one serviceable bridge over the river in the town and it was proposed to push three armoured divisions over the bridge, the 11th leading, the 7th to pass through them and advance south, towards Falaise, and the Guards’ Armoured Division to head east.
It doesn’t take much imagination to picture all the chaos, noise and dust that now ensued with three armoured divisions trying to move through the ruins of the town and over a solitary bridge. And, of course, as soon as darkness fell, this was a heaven-sent opportunity for the ‘non-existent’ Luftwaffe to make its appearance. So for the next few nights things became very unpleasant, to say the least, especially in the vicinity of the bridge.
As we moved through the town towards the bridge, I was quite shocked by the scenes of devastation all around me. Having seen so much bomb damage in London I thought I would be hardened to it, but the sight of this small market town flattened to the ground left a lasting impression. The only other place that left a similar impression was a year later, when we entered Berlin. Although we were to see an awful lot of destruction in between, these two places stand out in my mind.
As a matter of interest, I wonder why the casualty figures for the victims of Caen have never been published. Perhaps the answer isn’t very hard to work out.
Having crossed the bridge at Caen, we passed through 1th Armoured Division and deployed south of the town. The country here was as different from Bocage as chalk from cheese.
We found ourselves on a wide open plain and the whole division was crammed into an area of about four square miles. To the Germans, dug in further south, on higher ground, we must have presented a tempting target and they were not slow to take advantage of it.
After my experience at Villers Bocage, I never felt particularly safe sitting in my vehicle when we were static and under shell and mortar fire. So whenever we leaguered up for the night, I usually hunted around the area for a slit trench that had been abandoned by the Germans. If I found one, I parked beside it and if things got a bit too hot I just hopped in, feeling much safer below ground level.
Referring back to my remarks about things happening in threes, it was in this area, south of Caen, that I had my third ‘incident’. We were deployed in this wide open corn-field, at least that’s what I think it was because the predominant colour was yellow as opposed to the green of the Bocage, and following my usual practice when we stopped for the night, I found a trench to park beside.
It was quite late on in the day and there was a fair amount of firing going on all around. I had just got out of the slit trench after tidying it up a bit, in case I had to use it, when I heard a whirring sound behind me and the trench, where I had been standing moments before, had a deep furrow across the top of it. I shudder to think what sort of shape I might have been in had I stayed in that trench ten seconds longer.
Apparently it was an AP shell which had missed it’s target, and by the time it had reached me it was nearly spent, but still with sufficient velocity to have made quite a mess of me.
One other incident stands out in my mind during our most unpleasant time in this area, and that was seeing a chap break under the strain. He just sat down suddenly and cried and cried. It had a very sobering effect on me. I think we all knew just how he felt.
Around the end of July we were moved out of the area south of Caen and I don’t think anyone was very upset at this move as by this time the whole division had been badly battered.
It was about this time we lost the 4th CLY. The survivors of this regiment were sent to join their sister regiment, the 3rd County of London Yeomanry. I don’t think they ever recovered from their losses at Villiers Bocage.
