This is the second instalment of the "Bloodiest Square Mile in Normandy"
I would like to hear your comments so far.
Sapper.

As events were subsequently to prove, it was fortunate for me that I was selected as the runner, though at the time I would have been far happier, if indeed one could he happy under the circumstances, digging myself a hole in the ground.

Thinking it would lighten my load I left my shovel for one of the others, bitterly regretting my action later in the day. I started back, walking through the wooded parts and running as hard as I could across the open ground to drop breathless in the ditch on the far side. I saw another khaki figure lying in the ditch. I nudged him and told him to get up to the rest as quickly as be could. He neither replied nor moved, The day was already done for him.

There was no time to waste, and as soon as I had recovered my breath I made another dash across the next piece of open ground which ran along the side of the Chateau, but was fortunately screened from the view of the German occupants by the high brick wall surrounding the grounds. It was now light, and had I been observed I should have made an easy target for any sniper, however luck was with me and I gained the shelter of a deep ditch running parallel with one from which I had just come. There were, I discovered two ditches here, divided by a little bank, Slithering over this I was greeted by a faint shout of “Tommie, Tommie”. It came from two badly wounded Germans farther along the ditch. I suppose it was the only English they knew for it was followed by something quite incomprehensible to me, in what I took to be German. I was far too occupied with my own mission to find out what they wanted, but at the same time much relieved to see that the only enemy I had encountered were in no condition to offer resistance Taking advantage of the cover I made a quick reconnaissance of the land over which I had crossed earlier, though it looked different in the light and the absence of the smoke and dust.

I spotted Corporal Rose coming along an adjacent hedge with four of his section (he was killed a few minutes later) and made towards him leaving the two casualties moaning and dismayed, to I know not what fate. I shouted to them that they would be picked up, but in their ignorance of the language I think it helped them little, I informed the Corporal breathlessly of the position and he in turn told me that the rest of the Company, a dozen men and Captain Archdall were sheltering further along the hedge. Soon after starting to make his way forward Rose ran into a fatal burst of Spandau fire.

Captain Archdall, anxious to learn the whereabouts of the Company Commander and the rest, bade me as soon as I had recovered, to lead the way back, since I alone, knew where the others were. By the usual dash and crawl manner we got half way back and were sheltering in a partly filled-in moat against the Chateau wall preparing for the next move, when we observed that a Tiger tank now occupied the field which I had twice crossed. We immediately lay low.

I have already explained that there were still Germans in the Chateau and they had by now decided that it was time to quit, to execute this maneuver they had despatched one tank to cover this flank. Their route of escape was through the little copse where I had left the others. I never saw them again, but I think they were all taken prisoner, except Major MacCaffrey, who, now wounded in the shoulder, was passed unobserved by the retreating Hun.

We could hear the frantic orders of the Germans on the other side of the wall, but to have revealed ourselves with the tank in so commanding a position and we, having no A/T weapons, would have been suicidal. There was nothing to do but wait for the Tiger to complete his defending action, (though I must add we did not know then, quite what the Germans were doing) and move off in the wake of his fellows. Whatever else, it provided a breather for a little, after the violent activity so far. How long we waited thus I cannot say, powerless to do anything and praying that we had not been observed.

Eventually it lumbered away swinging its deadly 88 mm gun rearwards as it went. The Second in Command, deciding it was now impossible to contact our forward position, ordered us to line the hedge and dig in. It was now that I realised the folly of having parted with my shovel, To borrow one would have been rather like asking a drowning man for his lifebelt; I cursed myself for being such a fool.

As soon as we had lined the hedge, Jerry, his withdrawal now complete, sent over some airburst mortar bombs which he always used for ranging purposes, Three of us jumped for a German trench and being the last in, I was rather more exposed than the other two. The bombs cracked off and the splinters of metal whistled through the branches overhead, but no more followed.

Straightening up again, I sensed a sweet, sickly smell and felt the lad in between the other occupant and myself, slide further down into the hole, “My arm”, he gasped, I saw that between his shoulder and elbow was a bloody mess as if he had been clawed by a savage beast, so that the hone itself could be seen showing through. We did the best we could for him by applying his field dressing, which was totally inadequate, as tightly as possible, to arrest the flow of blood. That he might have all the protective benefit of the trench we propped him up in the bottom, for he was too weak to walk, and left him in the hope that the stretcher bearers might soon come up. I never knew how he got on.

Those who could, dug; dug for their lives in every sense. Without anything to entrench myself I hurried along the hedge in the hope of finding some sort of shelter, for it would not be long before a barrage followed those ranging shot.
Beneath the wreckage of what had been a door I found a trench about two feet deep, made presumably by the Germans. This at any rate was better than nothing and I at once set frantically to work, to deepen it by using my steel helmet as a scoop. It was laborious work, and I seemed to make but, small impression after the loose top soil had been taken off. Then one of the other lads case along and seeing that I had at least got some sort of cover, suggested that we shared his shovel and take it in turns to dig as hard as we could. Although the trench was not very long I considered it quite a sound idea, especially as he took the first shift, I seized the opportunity to take a swig at the stale warm water in my bottle; the first drink for many hours.

I suppose we had gone down about another six inches when it started, but we had more cover than most of the lads who had had to start from scratch. As the first shells fell we got down as flat as we could in the trench, but there was not room to lie full length. Our boots were in each other’s faces, and our heads twisted in order that we might get as far down as possible.

We lowered the door down on top, it that it would have stopped much, but it gave a feeling of added protection. What followed, for what seemed hours, was an ordeal, worse than anything which had gone before. In a great show of hatred for his eviction from the Chateau, the Boche appeared to hurl everything in his armoury at our newly occupied positions. Every second there was the terrifying whizz of shells through the trees, cutting the limbs like butter. Branches came tumbling down and each new, near explosion sent earth down our necks and in our mouths and eyes. To add to the intense discomfort, I developed cramp in the legs, being unable to move in this huddled position. It would have been fatal to have got up, so I had to bear it as best I could though the pain was maddening. Lying with your head to the ground tends to amplify the sound and vibration of explosives and under such concentrated fire it seemed that the whole world around us was erupting as indeed, to some extent it was.

To analyse one’s feelings under such circumstances is difficult. as each shell approaches you have a terrible dread that it will land on you; you forget everyone and everything else; this shell is for you; it is intended for you; it is going to hit YOU, And as each finds you still alive after its detonation, you decide that, that one has gone over, but the next one will be it. Therefore the strain of a prolonged period of this kind can he imagined. It is a period of acute mental torture.

After grovelling, praying and trembling, for how long I have no idea, the din ceased. The quiet was unbelievable and unreal. The ground was still again. We lay stupified for a few minutes not daring to move even to stretch our cramped limbs, lest it should start up again. Suddenly the lid of our coffin was raised , and an equally distressed Corporal shouted, “Get back, get out of it, we’ve had it, all the others have been killed, Get back to B.H.Q if you can, get back “ Without giving us more information he dashed off. Despite our stiffness we jumped out of the trench and a grim sight met our gaze. Not a figure moved. All the twenty men or so who had lined the hedge lay in various attitudes, most with shovels still clutched in their lifeless hands.

They had been caught digging in. Captain Archdal and C.S.M. Broom were only recognizable by their badges of rank, the rest we did not stop to identify, our orders were to go back and after all there was little that two of us could have done, not knowing where the rest of the company were.
Sapper