DURING THE NIGHT of June 9–10, Major General Rod Keller’s headquarters bustled with activity while staff drafted plans aimed at closing the gap between its two leading brigades, as well as establishing firm control over all ground north of the Caen-Bayeux highway. As these plans were developed, the officers started looking beyond the highway, with a mind to carrying out an armoured thrust from the Bretteville-l’Orgueilleuse strongpoint to occupy a steep hill immediately south of Cheux that dominated the surrounding country. In the original invasion plan, 2nd Canadian Armoured Brigade was to have cleared both the village and hill as its last action on D-Day. But the brigade’s three fighting regiments had come up well short of this objective due to problems getting ashore and then stiff resistance met throughout the inland advance.
The 1st Hussars and Fort Garry Horse regiments, which had landed close behind the assaulting infantry battalions, had experienced heavy losses among their squadrons equipped with the experimental amphibious duplex-drive Sherman tank. Many of these self-propelled tanks had foundered in the rough seas, while others were immobilized or sunk by mines and beach obstacles. Once ashore, the tankers were exposed on the open stretches of sand, facing antitank guns that were dug into concrete pillboxes. Even when the beach was taken, the tanks were badly delayed heading inland due to the difficulty of getting over or around the steep seawalls. During the inland advance, the armoured regiments had been forced to crawl along at the pace of the infantry, who were often driven to ground by well-concealed machine-gun positions. To press on alone without the infantry was to risk being knocked out by fire from equally well-hidden antitank guns and Grenadiers firing Panzerfausts—shoulder-fired antitank weapons. By day’s end on June 6, tank losses within 2 CAB’s regiments had reached a state of crisis, with the 1st Hussars and Fort Garry Horse mustering barely half their strength.
But now Keller believed the time had come when tanks could regain the initiative on the battlefield and achieve the D-Day objectives. He summoned 2 CAB’s Brigadier Bob Wyman and instructed him to put together two operational plans for his tanks, whereby one regiment participated in clearing the Mue valley to the highway while another broke out of Bretteville and secured what was dubbed the Cheux hill feature.1
Having gone through the Sicily invasion and up the Italian boot to Ortona as the brigadier of 1st Canadian Armoured Brigade, Wyman had the most battle experience of all Keller’s brigadiers. During the fight for Ortona, he had drawn the ire of 1st Canadian Infantry Division’s Major General Chris Vokes for a perceived hesitance to fully support operations with his tank regiments. Vokes had been so angry at the conclusion of the December 1943 fighting he had made it known to Eighth Army headquarters staff that he would welcome the replacement of 1 CAB as the division’s armoured support by any British tank brigade. As the British considered 1 CAB the finest tank brigade in Eighth Army’s complement, the staff quickly removed it from Vokes, retaining it as a fire brigade to send to whatever division most needed tank assistance.
Vokes had almost immediate cause to regret his hasty outburst when Wyman was assigned to a stint in England on the First Canadian Army staff as brigadier of Royal Artillery, and 1 CAB received a new brigadier that the notoriously outspoken divisional commander greatly respected. He did not, however, miss Wyman, who he considered “a bull-headed guy, a little lord unto himself.” That he believed Wyman felt that infantry but not tanks were expendable only fuelled his disdain for the man.2
Wyman’s time at First Canadian Army headquarters was short, for once it was confirmed that 3 CID would be among the invasion assault divisions he was appointed to command 2 CAB. The division’s Deputy Adjutant and Quarter Master General Lieutenant Colonel Ernest Côté particularly appreciated Wyman’s tough, no-nonsense approach. On the first day ashore, when Keller sometimes appeared uncertain of what to do, Wyman was often at his shoulder providing advice based on his combat experience. Such advice, Côté noted, was “appreciated” by the divisional commander.3
Because the armour was expected to carry out these two operations in a bold dash, Wyman and his regimental commanders were placed in control, with the assigned infantry acting under their direction. This would be the combat debut for the division in an operation where infantry supported and were directed by tankers. During all earlier operations, the infantry brigadiers or their battalion commanders had had authority to assign specific supporting roles to the tankers, even those that saw the tanks ranging ahead of the foot soldiers.
This infantry-dominant command structure reflected standard Western Allied doctrine. Tanks were normally intended to act as well-armoured and highly mobile forward-based gun platforms capable of backing up advancing infantry at close quarters. This view was a major cause of the Allied failure to upgrade the Sherman tank in either firepower or armour thickness to enable it to engage in tank-versus-tank battle against German Tigers and Panthers. The only major improvement offered Commonwealth tankers by the time of the invasion was the provision of one 17-pounder fitted Firefly tank to each troop, which gave the unit a powerful antitank capability. But no thought had been given to equipping all Shermans with the heavier gun because the 75-millimetre was judged a better weapon for delivering high-explosive, armour-piercing, and phosphorous rounds at close range in support of infantry. The Americans showed no interest at all—dismissing the Firefly as unnecessary—in increasing the main gun power of the Sherman. Instead, they adopted a doctrine of putting enough tanks on the ground to ensure they outnumbered German armour.
For the forthcoming two Canadian assaults, however, there could be no assurance that the Shermans would enjoy anything close to superior armoured mass. Keller could give little intelligence to Wyman with regard to the number or dispositions of enemy units operating in the Mue valley or between Bretteville and the Cheux hill feature. Whatever his failings might have been in the Mediterranean, Wyman had demonstrated no hesitance in committing his three tank regiments to battle either during the assault landings or the drive inland. The result was that all three regiments were still badly depleted by the heavy losses suffered. Although the personnel of 2nd Canadian Armoured Brigade Workshop worked tirelessly to repair tanks as fast as they were recovered and new armour was delivered to the front as soon as it arrived on the beach, the rebuilding efforts were frustrated by continuing high daily losses. Crews were also badly depleted, although there were generally spare tankers sitting around at the regimental headquarters for lack of Shermans.
By the end of June 9, the situation had worsened significantly. On June 7, the brigade’s first post-landing operational tank status report showed 115 Shermans fit for action, with 21 to be ready in twenty-four hours, and 36 knocked completely out. Among the fit Shermans, the Firefly model numbered 17 fit, 3 on the to-be-fit roster, and none knocked out. As for Stuart Honeys, 15 were fit, 3 to be fit, and 6 knocked out.4
At the end of June 9, the brigade reported only 112 Shermans still fit for a fight, with one Sherman scheduled for service in twenty-four hours. This despite having lost only 11 Shermans in battle that day. Of the fit Shermans, 13 were Firefly models, and no more of these would be available for twenty-four hours. Of those lost during the day, three were Fireflies.5
Wyman’s immediate concern was to get as many functioning tanks as possible up to the regiments that were to carry out the two-phased operation. To speed the process of moving tanks from the beach landing sites or 2nd Canadian Armoured Brigade’s Workshop, he issued immediate orders for all regiments to send back “all tank crews for which tanks are presently lacking.” Only three or four surplus tankers were to remain on hand to replace men who became unfit for duty. Those sent to the rear were cobbled into crews and assigned to the next available Sherman.6
He also ordered the workshop to pull out the stops and get as many Shermans operational as possible before dawn of June 11. By mid-afternoon on June 10, the workshop was able to report to brigade headquarters that it would have “11 tanks ready for return to units tonight.” Unfortunately, only two were destined to a regiment tasked with the attack.
On June 9, the 1st Hussars had thirty-five Shermans mounting 75-millimetre guns and six with 17-pounders, and had been promised two more 75-millimetre Shermans by the end of June 10. The Fort Garry Horse could field only thirty-four regular Shermans and four Fireflys. The Sherbrooke Fusiliers would not participate in the forthcoming attacks as this regiment was the most depleted, having lost most of its strength in the desperate Authie-Buron battle of June 7. By June 9, it still had only twenty-seven fit-to-fight 75-millimetre Shermans and three Fireflys. The Sherbrookes would be the division’s armoured reserve when the other two regiments went into action. Wyman bulked it up by sending nine fit-to-fight tanks its way.7
Wyman assigned the job of taking Cheux to the 1st Hussars, and clearing the Mue valley to the Fort Garry Horse. When Lieutenant Colonel Ray Colwell heard this news, he was still so short of both tanks and manpower that his 1st Hussars could only field two squadrons rather than the normal three. Colwell pleaded for reinforcements, and Wyman promised to see what was possible. He assured the worried officer that he would not commit the regiment into action until June 12. Between now and then, the brigadier said the 1st Hussars should make use of the time to “get as much rest as possible for tank crews, who are thoroughly tired out.”8
Keller, Wyman, and their respective staffs spent the first part of the day working out a general operational plan. The divisional commander informed the brigadier that the 1st Hussars would be accompanied in their attack by the Queen’s Own Rifles, while No. 46 Royal Marine Commando supported the Fort Garry Horse. Wyman and his people next got to work laying out the full sequence and timing schedules for each assault to attain a series of waypoints en route to the final objective.
At 2100 hours, Wyman held an information conference during which he briefed regimental staffs. Wyman told the assembled officers that the 1st Hussars, supported by the Queen’s Own and probably two troops of self-propelled antitank guns, would advance across six miles of ground from Bretteville to the Cheux hill feature on the division’s right flank. This would happen on June 12. On June 11, the Fort Garry Horse, he said, would “make good an intermediate objective,” by clearing the Mue valley from Vieux Cairon through to la Villeneuve. Once this hamlet was taken, the tenuous hold that the Regina Rifles had on Norrey-en-Bessin south of the Caen-Bayeux highway would be much more secure, enabling the village garrison to support the 1st Hussars and Queen’s Own Rifles during their ensuing assault. The Fort Garry force was to reach la Villeneuve by “last light.” The Canadian division would be free by June 13 to begin advancing in force south of the Caen-Bayeux highway to align with the long thrust into the German defences that the 1st Hussars and Queen’s Own would have won on the 12th.9
The attack by 2 CAB, Wyman understood, would loosely coincide with a planned major operation by the British 7th Armoured Division through the 50th Infantry Division towards Villers-Bocage. This was the first phase of General Bernard Montgomery’s flanking offensive from the right towards Caen. The 50th Division would also put in an assault to the left of Cheux between Cristot and Tilly-sur-Seulles. While the British and Canadian operations were not coordinated, they might strain the Germans’ ability to concentrate reserves to stem a massed assault developing over a couple of days across a broad front. Wyman had no information, though, on the specific timing Second Army had set out for the beginning of the 7th Armoured Division–50th Infantry Division offensive. He only knew that it was to occur sometime in the next few days. So it was likely that by the time the British offensive began, 2 CAB would have already cleared the Mue and be established at Cheux, enabling the Canadians to anchor 50th Division’s left flank as it and the 7th Division pivoted eastwards once Tilly and Villers-Bocage were taken.
WHILE WYMAN was carrying out his briefing on the night of June 10, Second British Army commander General Sir Miles Dempsey was ironing out final details with his own staff for Montgomery’s twopincer scheme. Originally, the operation was to have involved not only 7th Armoured Division’s major thrust west of Caen, but also a matching effort by the 51st Highland Division striking out from 6th Airborne Division’s perimeter east of Caen. Dempsey’s hopes to execute the operation in this manner were frustrated early on June 10 by German counterattacks against the paratroops.
The major thrust of these attacks launched by the 346th Grenadier Division was to achieve a breakout from the centre of a dangerous inward bend in the airborne division lines at Bréville, less than two miles from Ranville and Pegasus Bridge. This deep indentation in the airborne division’s lines had existed since the close of battle on June 6, when the casualty-riddled British 9th Parachute Battalion had been unable to eliminate the German defenders holding Bréville. While Bréville was the focal point on June 10, the paratroops holding the line all along le Plein–Bois de Bavent ridge were subjected to heavy artillery fire and sporadic probes by infantry seeking to exploit any weak point.
At le Mesnil crossroads, 1st Canadian Parachute Battalion was hammered repeatedly by shellfire, probed by patrols, and harassed by continuous sniper fire. Over the course of June 9–10, two strictly defensive days, the Canadians had sixteen casualties, of which six were fatal. This represented 4 per cent of the total Canadian strength at le Mesnil, which “indicated just how severe the results could be when a methodical, calculating and efficient enemy put their long experience to work,” noted paratrooper Corporal Dan Hartigan. “On an attack day casualties were to be expected. On a defensive day they seemed less necessary and so all the sadder.” It was obvious to the men holding the line that the battalion’s combat ability was being slowly whittled away.10
Gravely concerned that 6th Airborne Division’s grinding attrition rates jeopardized its ability to hold the lodgement east of the River Orne, I British Corps commander Lieutenant General John Crocker decided the 51st Division should take over responsibility for the southern half of the perimeter. He also placed 5th Battalion, The Black Watch, under 6th Airborne Division command, as part of its 9th Battalion, with specific orders to eliminate the Bréville inward bend on June 11.11 Although necessary, the commitment of the 51st Division to stabilizing the front east of the Orne meant it would be unable to carry out Montgomery’s left-hand pincer movement in anything more than a localized manner.
Unaware of Crocker’s decision, 2 CAB Brigadier Wyman and his staff were badly hobbled on June 10 by a lack of intelligence on the strength or composition of German forces in either the Mue valley or south of the Caen-Bayeux highway opposite 7th Canadian Infantry Brigade’s front. Vigorous reconnaissance patrolling was ordered in both of these areas, with little success. The North Nova Scotia Highlanders attempted to slip a patrol into Vieux Cairon, but it was quickly pinned down by fire from the Germans holding there and had to withdraw without learning anything of value. Meanwhile, the Stormont, Dundas and Glengarry Highlanders pushed a patrol out towards Buron, which they found to be heavily occupied. Bypassing the village, the patrol pressed on towards Authie but turned back about halfway because of heavy German activity in the area. The Highland Light Infantry carried out a patrol to the east of the division’s area of operations that failed to find either British or German troops.12
While patrols beyond the Canadian front lines were coming up dry, this was not the case for one small unauthorized patrol in friendly territory. The North Novas were still recovering from the debacle of June 7 and taking fresh casualties every day from the persistent shelling as well as patrols that the 9 CIB battalions were sending out on a nightly basis. On June 10, the arrival of a fresh draft of officers to replace those lost in the fighting led to a reorganization of the battalion and the re-imposition of a higher level of discipline. The men were ordered to shave and wash, but also treated to a welcome addition of an egg for breakfast. Then they were ordered to get what rest was possible.
A few enterprising troops, however, took the opportunity to stand down from sentry duty and explore the farm buildings near their position. In one, a 750-gallon barrel of wine was discovered in the basement. Word was quickly sent out and a large group of North Novas queued up in the cellar to fill canteens only to have, lamented the battalion war diarist, “the ‘dirty new adjutant’ stop them and place a guard on it.”13
While things were quieting down somewhat on 9 CIB’s front, snipers remained a persistent problem for the Canadian Scottish holding Putot-en-Bessin. The Germans were based in a strongpoint in a woods south of the railroad between Brouay and Putot. This same position posed a threat to both 7 CIB’s right flank security and also the forthcoming attack, as the 1st Hussars must pass through le Mesnil-Patry, only about a mile to the east. For these reasons, brigade ordered the strongpoint eliminated. Lieutenant Colonel Fred Cabeldu decided to wait until after dark to send a fighting patrol into the wood to wipe out the Germans, but in the meantime wanted to rid the area around his perimeter of snipers. Captain J.D.M. “Doug” Gillan offered to take some men outside the perimeter in his platoon’s Bren carriers and carry out a sweep of the area with the intent of deliberately drawing fire, determining the location of each sniper, and then killing him. As Gillan was explaining his idea, Captain Harold Gonder of the Cameron Highlanders’ No. 5 Platoon volunteered a couple of carriers mounting Vickers heavy machine guns. These guns were fitted to a pintle that enabled them to be fired perpendicularly—perfect for blasting snipers out of trees.
The carriers set off at high speed along a road routinely subjected to heavy sniper activity. When the snipers brought their guns to bear on the carriers, the Camerons ripped into the trees with the Vickers, and Gonder saw several enemy soldiers shot out of the branches during the first quarter mile of their run. Just ahead, the road was crossed by another, and Gillan and Gonder had planned that the carriers should make a sharp turn onto this road, follow it for a ways, and then take another that dogged back to the battalion perimeter. Glancing behind him, Gonder noticed that the other carrier had fallen about fifty yards behind while slowing to take out a sniper. Gonder worried that its driver would fail to make the turn and end up running straight down the current road, possibly driving into an enemy ambush.
Proper procedure called for a commander issuing orders to other carriers in a column to wave one or the other of specially designated signal flags above the little vehicle’s armoured side while remaining inside its protected cover. Forgetting the flag procedure in the urgency of the moment, Gonder stood up “to wave my hand. The instant I stood up I saw a great flash and it was just as if a giant hand poked me back in the seat and I knew I had been hit.” The driver jammed on the brakes and said, “Oh my God, sir.” Gonder snapped at him to get moving or they would all get hit. The captain was angry, knowing “I wouldn’t have been hit if I hadn’t made this mistake, my silly behaviour. One of my corporals reached over with a knife and cut my clothing right down to the skin and put on the field dressing.”
Back in the perimeter lines, Gonder walked into the Canadian Scottish headquarters and reported to Cabeldu, who said, “Get somebody else to give your report. You go see the [Medical Officer].” Gonder was so furious with himself that when he got to the Regimental Aid Post he “started gabbling away to the MO, who said, ‘Don’t talk, Hal.’ He was a gentle man and he poked around and told me I had been hit in the throat and he was afraid my vocal cords might have been damaged and so didn’t want me to talk.” Gonder was quickly evacuated to a rear area hospital and from there to hospital in England.14
As darkness fell, Lieutenants S.R. Ross and I.P. MacDonald formed up No. 11 and No. 12 platoons of ‘B’ Company for the patrol that was to clear the woods. Earlier reconnaissance indicated that the enemy position contained several machine guns and possibly some antitank guns or mortars. To force the Germans to take cover during the patrol’s approach, the rest of the battalion would pound the wood with its 3-inch and 4.2-inch mortars while two troops of Sherbrooke Fusiliers tanks banged it up with their 75-millimetre guns.
The two officers planned to cross the railway cutting by slipping over the bridge that had been the focus of much fighting during the counterattack of June 8–9. As MacDonald’s No. 12 Platoon led the way onto the bridge, however, it “came under heavy mortar and MG fire from down the track on either side. No. 11 Platoon, less two sections which were held up, made their way across the track, taking out at least one MG on the track and one beyond it. From then on,” a battalion after-action report stated, “the situation was one of very close confused fighting, our troops in the open taking on enemy machine guns in fortified positions and deep slit trenches and trying to avoid mortar fire and fire from our tanks. Two MGs were taken out for certain and losses, at least as heavy as our own, inflicted on the enemy. Our losses were fairly heavy—Lt. MacDonald was killed at the bridge and 17 [other ranks were] killed or missing.
“Noteworthy during the raid was the aggressiveness of our troops in the face of terrific fire; the skill of the enemy in the handling of his fixed lines of fire… and finally the devotion of the stretcher bearers and patrols sent to look after the wounded.”15 When Corporal A.L. Frost, who was pinch-hitting as MacDonald’s Acting Sergeant, saw his commander shot down and killed, he took over the platoon without hesitation. As he guided the men back towards the north side of the railroad, Frost discovered Private D.W.M. Ives lying on the ground incapacitated by a wound. Frost hefted the man over his shoulder and carried him through enemy fire to safety, an act that won him a Military Medal.16
The speed with which the patrol had been discovered and torn into by well-hidden German troops provided some telling intelligence, despite the failure to come anywhere close to reaching the strongpoint in the woods. It was clear that the 12th SS Panzer Grenadiers still had strong and determined forces immediately south of the railway and were determined to prevent any major push by the Canadians into that area—sobering news for those planning the 1st Hussars–Queen’s Own Rifles phase of the forthcoming attack.
JUNE 10 PROVED a day fraught with crisis and frustration for the Germans. East of the River Orne, the counterattack out of Bréville had failed to make any progress, with the grenadiers and supporting self-propelled guns quickly forced back into a defensive position centred on the village. For all their efforts during three days of concerted attacks against the paratroopers, the Germans had failed to gain any ground or to annihilate any airborne battalions. Instead, the forces fighting east of the Orne were tied down in a costly war of attrition with little in the way of reserves to make up their losses.
The 12th SS (Hitlerjugend) Panzer Division’s 25th Panzer Grenadier Regiment facing the 3rd British Infantry Division and 3 CID’s 9th Infantry Brigade had also been forced back onto a defensive posture, a fact that mightily chafed its aggressive commander. After the disastrous failures of his attacks on Bretteville-l’Orgueilleuse and Norreyen-Bessin, Standartenführer Kurt Meyer knew he lacked sufficient strength to both hold his sections of the line and carry out further offensive actions. Yet the obstacle that Norrey presented, jutting deeply into the German lines, remained, and General der Panzertruppen Leo Freiherr Geyr von Schweppenburg had once again ordered the Canadians kicked out. Although Army Group B General-feldmarschall Erwin Rommel had instructed I Panzer Corps’s divisions west of the River Orne to assume defensive postures, von Schweppenburg still hoped to have that decision reversed. Then on the night of June 10–11, he would commit the 21st Panzer, 12th SS, and Panzer Lehr divisions against the British-Canadian front in one massive assault that might yet hurl the Allies into the sea.
Accordingly, the 12th SS had scrambled to gather some semblance of a force that could strike Norrey before day dawned on June 10. All that Brigadeführer Fritz Witt could call on, however, was the infantry of the 12th SS Panzerpionier Battalion. Deployed behind the 26th Panzer Grenadier Regiment’s perimeter south of the village, the battalion began a hasty assault unsupported by any artillery or mortar fire. Immediately greeted by withering artillery, mortar, and machine-gun fire, the attack—the battalion’s first—quickly faltered. While some platoons managed to reach the edge of Norrey, none could get in among the fiercely resisting Regina Rifles. Dawn found much of the German battalion helplessly pinned down. Although a withdrawal was ordered, some sections were unable to comply until nightfall because of the intensity of fire directed their way. The butcher’s bill for a fight the Regina Rifles war diarist felt so insignificant as to not mention tallied eighty Germans killed, wounded, or missing.17 The Reginas reported no casualties worth mentioning from the action. While the Reginas were perhaps modest to a fault, one veteran British divisional commander later wrote that: “The Canadian defence of Norrey and Bretteville over the 8th to 10th June must surely go down as one of the finest small unit actions of WWII.”18
The Regina war diarist did remark with somewhat bland enthusiasm on the welcome presence of Typhoon dive-bombers striking positions near Cheux at about 1900 hours on June 10.19 In fact, despite the continuing cloudy and cool weather, most of the Canadian battalions on the front lines witnessed a great increase in Allied air operations, with fighter-bombers swarming overhead throughout the day. By June 10, Allied control of the skies over Normandy was virtually complete, the Luftwaffe seldom venturing from its airfields to give battle. The Allied air superiority was greatly aided by the fact that air force and army engineers had managed to open several temporary airstrips in the Normandy beachhead to serve as refuelling stations. These had received their first customers on June 9 when planes from No. 144 Wing, Royal Canadian Air Force set down mid-morning. Later that afternoon, thinking they were the first to carry out such a feat, 401 Squadron, RCAF landed for refuelling and received the disappointing news that 144 Wing had got there first.20
Plans were afoot for all of No. 144 Wing, under command of the famed fighter ace Wing Commander J.E. “Johnnie” Johnson, to be the first RCAF or RAF wing to set up permanent shop at a Normandy landing strip on June 11. Already an advanced headquarters party was on the ground at St. Croix-sur-Mer. The field, Flying Officer Frederick A.W.J. Wilson of 441 Squadron noted, “was just a bulldozed strip of land. Bulldozers had cleaned up a strip of farmer’s field and made us a little runway.” Tents were set up nearby for use as quarters, mess halls, and supply depots.21
Now able to rapidly refuel and re-arm in Normandy rather than having to return to bases in England, the fighter-bomber squadrons could spend far more hours conducting operational sorties in the battle zone. For the Germans, this meant that attempting to move by day anywhere in the rear became all the more hazardous.
The Allies were also able to use airpower to deadly effect due to an intelligence coup by Ultra. Montgomery’s staff received word that Panzer Group West’s headquarters was to be established in the village of la Caine about twelve miles south of Caen, effective the evening of June 9. This report filed at 0439 hours on June 10 included detailed information on which houses the Germans were using.22
Such precise targeting information was too tempting for Supreme Headquarters Allied Expeditionary Force to pass up and a hastily planned air strike was launched. Deciding on a maximum effort, Allied Expeditionary Air Force put together a joint fighter-bomber and medium bomber operation that included the B-25 Mitchell bombers of No. 139 Wing, RAF of No. 2 Group, 2nd Tactical Air Force, commanded by Wing Commander Clarence “Larry” Dunlap.
A thirty-six-year-old Cape Bretoner from Sydney Mines—who traced his Canadian ancestry back ten generations to 1761—Dunlap’s fascination with flight had begun when he was eleven. Adulthood failed to diminish his interest, so at the urging of Royal Canadian Air Force recruiters he enlisted upon completion of an electrical engineering science baccalaureate degree in July 1928. When war broke out, Dunlap was director of armament at RCAF headquarters in Ottawa. Going overseas in 1942, he first commanded RCAF Station Leeming in Yorkshire before taking command of No. 331 Wing, RCAF in May 1943. Posted to North Africa, this Wellington Bomber wing supported the Allied invasions of Sicily and Italy—flying almost 2,200 missions with a loss of only eighteen planes. Appointed a Commander of the Order of the British Empire for this effort, Dunlap returned to England to take command of No. 139 Wing, RAF stationed in Cunsfold, Surrey, with the rank of Group Captain.
Dunlap’s wing headed for the target at about 1900 hours on June 10. Although trained for pinpoint daylight bombing attacks, the Mitchells would this evening be forced to carry out a blind drop because heavy cloud cover was encountered the moment the planes crossed the Normandy coast.23 The bombers successfully searched out la Caine, however, and hot on the heels of a low-level strike by four squadrons of rocket-firing Typhoons at 2030 hours, the seventy-one medium bombers dumped their payloads on the little village.
The attack annihilated the headquarters, turning it into a flaming ruin. While von Schweppenburg, who had arrived minutes before the attack, escaped with minor injuries, his Chief of Staff Generalmajor Edler von Dawans and sixteen others were killed. Among the dead was I SS Panzer Corps liaison officer Hauptsturmführer Wilhelm Beck. Those staff officers who survived the raid were evacuated—the wounded to hospitals, the merely shaken to a new location where the command might slowly rebuild.
The destruction of Panzer Group West’s headquarters threw the German operational command structure in Normandy into even greater chaos. To fill the gap in the command chain, I SS Panzer Corps was placed under direct control of Seventh Army’s Generaloberst Friederich Dollman, with corps commander Obergruppenführer Sepp Dietrich once again left as the senior commander in the Caen area. Any thought of the Panzer divisions carrying out offensive actions in the next few days died with the destruction of Panzer Group West. Dietrich was increasingly fatalistic, complaining to Rommel after his corps passed to Seventh Army control that no further offensive action was possible and that without major reinforcement by additional Panzer divisions the Germans could hold the existing line around the Allies no more than three weeks. That such a hardened Nazi loyalist would talk with such open defeatism took many of his subordinates by surprise, but one commented later that if nothing else Dietrich had always been “a realist.” Told by Rommel that a limited offensive posture must be maintained, Dietrich growled, “With what? We need another eight or ten divisions in a day or two, or we are finished… I am being bled to death and getting nowhere.”24
News of Panzer Group West’s destruction hit staff at Oberkommando der Wehrmacht hard, prompting the war diarist there to note that the event caused a “crisis.” Nobody in the German intelligence community had any suspicions that the headquarters at la Caine had been so precisely located through Allied ability to read its wireless codes. Instead, it was believed that either the French underground had reported the location or a British reconnaissance plane spotted circling the village earlier in the day had determined that the village housed a high-value target.
One thing was clear to everyone, from OKW staffers to Rommel—Dollman was no von Schweppenburg, and without the veteran tanker’s steely leadership I SS Panzer Corps was incapable of delivering the concentrated blow necessary to split the beachhead into two. At best, all that Dietrich could probably muster was the kind of “penny-packet” tank attacks that had frittered away much of the strength of the three divisions.25
At 12th SS Division’s headquarters, Witt’s staff had managed to canvass its regiments and battalions to determine the casualties suffered during the past four days of fighting. For a division that considered itself a cut above the Canadians they fought, the statistics were grim—about 900 killed, wounded, or missing, with 220 of these being fatal. Twenty-five tanks had been wrecked beyond repair. For all these casualties, the division had achieved precious little. Although they had stemmed the Canadian advance on Carpiquet airport, the Hitlerjugend had failed totally to achieve its intention—a major breakthrough to the landing beaches and victory over the Allies. It was now bogged down in static, defensive warfare—which every Panzer commander knew was a tragic waste of such a division’s armoured potential.
And there was no doubt June 11 would bring more fighting and increasing casualties. Although the Canadians had been thrown back into a largely defensive posture on their left flank, wireless intercepts by the Hitlerjugend suggested an assault was shaping up around Norrey-en-Bessin. The Reginas’ dagger continued to threaten the German front.26