Falaise. Blood soaked Falaise.
Carnage! Bloody carnage.

This is not a pleasant episode, but the scenes that were enacted here are engraved on my very soul.

For here is war at it's most evil, this is where all the press reports and tales of courage in war are stripped naked of any kind of veneer of patriotism, or humanity. This is where war can be seen for what it really is; a dirty and inhuman slaughter of a Nations generation of young men.

After the war, all the Nations would depend on these young men to carry the Countries forward with the drive and inventiveness of youth, Sadly, they would not be there, for those young men paid the ultimate price and would not be there in the future. Thus, many Countries paid a very expensive price for the loss of their Nations young and ambitious men after the war.

For what follows was the real horror of war, and at its bloodiest. Destruction. Utter and complete destruction, it is very hard to describe the scene in words. The roads blocked with dead horses still harnessed to the smashed carts they were pulling; swollen with feet stuck stiffly up in the air. German soldiers dead, sometimes one on top of the other. Further on, groups of German dead lying in twisted and grotesque positions. Some fleeing German soldiers cut down as they fled. Tanks that finished tilted in crazy angles against the side of buildings, mobile guns and armoured troop carriers destroyed. Artillery twisted and abandoned. The whole paraphernalia and detritus of war turned into a massive mangled mess, and covered with Normandy dust. Some soldiers burned as their vehicles caught fire.

Religious statues destroyed. One very poignant sight, was in the corner of one village, were the French Peasants prayed with their rosaries before a life size statue of Christ. The statue still stood there amongst all that destruction, surrounded by dead and mangled bodies, like an island that had remained impervious to the fire that had raged all about. But, what was most poignant, was that the statue was untouched, still looking down at what had happened around. With his arms spread wide in supplication. But, with both hands blow off. I am not a religious man, but somehow that picture that remains with me, is a telling icon of the futility of war.

This went on for miles as we chased the fleeing Enemy towards the hell that awaited them at the neck of the Falaise gap. The Germans used any method to try and escape, in some areas it was not possible to cross the road for German dead. The mighty Tiger tanks blown to smithereens and scattered in every direction. Wall to wall death, smashed houses and buildings with the roads between with so many dead it was difficult to walk, men half out of tanks and cars, burned alive before they could get out.

One scene I shall never forget, was the blackened figure of a man burnt to death and fixed in the position of trying to get out his vehicle, he had his hand on the car door handle and one foot out of the door, fixed in that position as the flames overtook him. The stench of death hung over everything like a sickening pall. The sun had already begun to cause early decay. An inferno beyond comprehension! Covering everything was a thick layer of grey dust, almost as though the scene had been sprayed with grey emulsion.

I remember very clearly, a young dead German sat on the road with his back to a grassy bank, just as though he was taking a rest and a short sleep, feet spread, hands in lap, head on chest covered in this thick grey dust, he looked as though he, and his uniform were fashioned from grey clay. But, his sleep would last for all eternity.

All this, as a complete German army had been caught in the terrible trap of the Falaise pocket. As the noose closed round the top of the bag, the way out narrowed. The German army desperate to escape streamed through the neck of the bag, only to be fired on by our guns over "open sights" Sometimes at point blank range. Meanwhile the rocket firing Typhoons had a turkey shoot, the Enemy was subjected to continuous air attack with no help or protection, and caught in the open, the carnage was complete. For me personally, there was no satisfaction, "There but for the grace of God, go I" Carnage on this scale was something we had not expected. I do not wish to see anything like that again. Why? Well I have to live with it for the rest of my life.

The fact that the German army was able to retreat, reorganize and reform in Holland pays great tribute to their discipline and organization. Even so the Germans did not give in easily, some of the fire fights that took place at the rear of the bag were bitter and hard fought. Much fierce fighting took place as we pressed forward down the Tinchbray road. All of a sudden it was over, and the great chase began. Glad to leave Falaise and Bloody Normandy behind. The company packed everything into their vehicles and started North, A headlong chase all the way to Belgium, only short stops, one had to use a German helmet for a toilet.

Waving crowds, cigarette for Papa? Exciting in its way but being out of action has its drawback, its that much more difficult to get back into it again. After Falaise, the chase was almost none stop, all of our vehicles plus the German staff car we had captured, set off heading towards Northern France and Belgium. Cheering crowds and pleasant green country side made a wonderful change from the death and destruction of Normandy, just to see normal people walking about and the undamaged villages was heartening indeed. Girls in summer dresses after the desolation of Normandy. What a pleasant change! All the way the French made us very welcome, genuinely pleased to see us, it was a shame that we could only stop for short periods, the pressure to follow up the German retreat kept us going all through France to the Seine .

On the way, we were ambushed by a rear guard, we had been caught between a high stone wall on one side and stone buildings on the other. From the woods in front of us the Enemy opened fire as we came through this narrow road, my very good friend Jock, and myself were travelling in our half track. This great friend of mine, was killed along side me and tumbled out of the door, rather than run over his body two of us jumped out and sat his body against the wall, before taking violent evasive action. We just could not mangle him under the tracks of our vehicle, even under fire.

Falaise! Bloody Falaise!
I would be genuinely interested in how you fellows view this, and what is your reaction to it?
Sapper Brian.