PATRICK DEVLIN
Fighting Irishman
During the night of 31 August 1939, Nazi forces posing as Polish saboteurs seized the Gleiwitz Radio Station in Silesia, Poland, and sent an anti-German broadcast across the radio waves. It was the eve of the planned Nazi invasion of Poland and a ruse to the world, a false provocation, and justification for Germany to attack. Operation Himmler had started, comprising twenty-one incidents in all along the border between the neighbouring countries. and was intended to give the appearance of Polish aggression against Germany. In supposed retaliation the German Army invaded Poland on 1 September, attacking from three directions, north, south and west. Striking almost at dawn, German tanks, infantry and cavalry penetrated Polish territory on three fronts with five armies, a total of 1.5 million troops. The Poles were no match for the Germans and retreated to pre-prepared defensive positions. However, all defiance became futile after the Soviets then attacked from the east on 17 September, effectively surrounding the Poles. Small pockets of resistance remained but it was all over by 6 October. Britain and France had mobilized and declared war on Germany on 3 September and for the second time that century set about preparations for battle.
Almost two years from the capitulation of Poland, with the Second World War now in its third calendar year, a 17-year-old left Galway in neutral Eire in great haste. Straight after leaving school he crossed the border into the Northern counties, and on 1 July 1941 promptly volunteered to enlist and fight against the Germans after signing on at the Army recruiting office in Clifton Street, Belfast. Patrick Devlin, not wanting to miss out on the big adventure, worried that it would pass him by, had lied about his age, stating that he was twenty. Freshly enlisted, 6410458 Private P. Devlin was sent to England.
This indeed was the start of a big adventure that would take the young man from basic training in England to the Normandy bridgehead during Operation Overlord, the break-out and push through France leading ultimately to his being wounded in action after the Rhine crossing.
England
Paddy Devlin was not alone. So many of his Irish peers found their way to England and uniformed service that some line regiments ended up Irish-heavy. This led to fights breaking out so often that a disgruntled Monty split the Irish up, sending them in much smaller numbers throughout the infantry as a punishment. Devlin’s first regiment, the 8th Battalion, Royal Sussex Regiment, was based in Colchester, and after a massive fight against Canadians in the town Monty disbanded the battalion. Devlin was sent to the 11th Battalion, Queen’s Royal Regiment (West Surrey).
During the build-up training for D-Day Devlin volunteered for a brand-new airborne unit being formed from Irish volunteers; this was to be an Irish parachute battalion and was to be part of a brigade set to play a major part in the coming invasion campaign. However, after gathering many volunteers together, the ‘top brass’ had a re-think. Not wanting to put all the Irish back in the same basket and go through similar discipline problems, they decided they should be scattered throughout the airborne brigades. Rifleman Devlin therefore found himself in 18 Platoon, C Company, 1st Battalion, Royal Ulster Rifles, part of 6th Air Landing Brigade in the 6th Airborne Division, destined for the Normandy landings and led by Major General Richard Gale.
By this time Devlin had become a battalion scout-sniper. After the end of the Great War, sniper training and a sniper establishment had disappeared from the order of battle of most British infantry units. No progress in developing sniping had been made in the years between the two world wars, and when war came again in 1939 it was considered a low priority. Even sniper rifles were in short supply, leading to any old First World War rifles that had not been sold off or committed to service elsewhere, being reissued. In the early days urgent requests were made for snipers, leading to the establishment of a small training school in France, and later one at Hythe. Even after the debacle leading to Dunkirk a negative attitude was taken towards this much-needed skill. By the time of the Normandy landings, however, things had changed. The British Army sniper was well equipped, trained and classed as a specialist.
The typical kit and equipment carried by such on the eve of Overlord was in Devlin’s own words:
The .303-inch British Enfield Rifle, Telescope No 32, GS Watch, Denison Smock, Face Veil, Binoculars, Compass Prismatic Mk3, x2 No 36 (Mills) Grenades, Bandolier of 50 rounds, Water bottle, x5 rounds Tracer, x5 rounds AP and Emergency Rations.
The war establishment for infantry battalions set during 1942 included 8 snipers: 1 sergeant, 1 corporal, 2 lance corporals and 4 privates. The specialist units were allocated even larger establishments, 32 snipers for a parachute battalion and 38 snipers for an air landing battalion. After Normandy a sniper school was again set up in France and this school also held courses to train instructors. These newly qualified trainers then went back to their respective units to run basic level and continuation courses for the snipers of each battalion.
After 1942 the First World War SMLE (Short Magazine Lee Enfield) and its back-up the P14, were officially replaced for sniper use by the Lee-Enfield Rifle No. 4, Mk 1 (T). Like its predecessors this was a bolt-action weapon, this time fitted with a 10-round magazine and a 3-power telescopic sight (No. 32), plus iron sights. The sniper rifles were selected from the standard factory production line, picked as superior from the batch. They were then stripped down and rebuilt with a new stock and a wooden cheek piece fitted. At this stage standard issue ammunition was still supplied.
Operation Tonga
Operation Tonga was the code-name given to the British airborne element of D-Day, the parachute and glider-borne force which was to land and secure vital objectives hours before the seaborne invasion, thus protecting the eastern flank of operations inland from Sword Beach. Objectives were the seizure and capture of two vital bridges over the Caen Canal and River Orne, later to become known as Pegasus and Horsa bridges, and the destruction of various German positions, including the Merville battery, which could make life uncomfortable for those on Sword Beach. All of this would help prevent the 21st Panzer Division from racing towards the allied bridgehead to sweep the attackers back into the sea.
Like many others during the build-up, Rifleman Devlin found himself in one of the little barbed-wire transit camps popping up all over England. These camps were all part of the operational security; the barbed wire was not only there to keep out the unwanted, but to keep the operationally briefed troops in.
Here the battalion was fully informed of its mission and tasks for D-Day, and what was expected from each and every man. After the brief a ‘special’ pay parade was held, with the officer commanding sat behind a table. Each man was given 200 francs along with the offer of three condoms. Devlin: ‘I thought we were going to fight the Germans, sir? Not to breed.’ After his initial refusal Patrick was persuaded by the CQMS to take them anyway, if only to give them away.
On the eve of 6 June 24,000 airborne soldiers at 22 airfields across England, boarded 1,200 transport planes and 700 gliders. 1st Royal Ulster Rifles (1 RUR) boarded their Horsa gliders; every platoon had been earmarked one each and in a unit of 750 men that makes for many airframes. The men of 2nd Oxfordshire and Buckinghamshire Light Infantry (2 OBLI), also of 6th Air Landing Brigade, were doing the same, and would be the first to leave. Unfortunately. though. this could not be said for the third and final battalion of the brigade, 12th Devon shire Regiment (12 Devons). The RAF had run out of Halifax and Stirling tugs so apart from one company, the Devons had to travel by sea, and catch up via the beaches!
Devlin, with his Enfield .303 cradled in his arms, by now with his face blackened, climbed aboard and picked a seat portside by a window. This way he could keep his eye on the exit door – he liked it that way. During take-off, however, the towing aircraft belly dived and released the tow rope, 18 Platoon came to a standstill on the runway, before being towed away, this time by a tractor! Thus it was that Patrick Devlin was in the very last Horsa glider to take off for the air landing operation.
Normandy
During the night flight the wind was strong and gusting, blowing the gliders, hanging on at the end of their tow ropes, in all directions. Now and then, by the light of the moon, Devlin could see through gaps in the clouds down to the massive armada of ships heading into position.
Over Normandy tow ropes were released and hundreds of gliders steered their way to their respective landing zones. In the first wave behind the Pathfinders, the Ox and Bucks had already swooped down onto their target bridges. 1st Royal Ulster Rifles landed near Ranville. The men were then assembled by whistle, and companies were formed up and marched off to complete missions as tasked. C Company was formed up on the road and sent on its way, heading through Le Bas de Ranville and on up to a feature known as the ‘Ring Contour’, so called simply because that was how it appeared on the map. Whilst marching Paddy realized that this was for real this time when he saw his first dead German soldier, a Fallschirmjäger (German Para-trooper) crumpled up by the side of the road, most probably from 1st Battalion, Fallschirmjäger Regiment 6, elite troops who were known to be operating in the area and who would fight a very tough rearguard action.
On arrival at the Ring Contour Devlin and the remainder of his section were tasked to dig in under the cover of darkness to cover the approach routes to Ste-Honorine la Chardonnerette, in preparation to provide covering fire for the remainder of the battalion during an attack on the village via the Longueval flank early the following morning, 7 June.
Overall the situation at this time was considered to be largely successful, though many of the units were under-strength. Strong winds blowing at the time of the drop had driven many gliders and paratroops way off course; as the sun fell on D-Day many men were still making their way towards their units’ objectives. Those already in place had to repel counter-attacks as a much smaller force than anticipated. This said, all tasks had been accomplished and all units were sited to defend the bridgehead.
Errors were made, however, At dawn the following day it was found that Two Section’s position faced in the wrong direction – they could not even see the village let alone provide covering fire. This was quite a common siting mistake during the war. Lazy marking out in the dark by tired troops, and poor super vision by NCOs, often led to this error being made.
The first shots were then fired overhead when, to the delight of those manning the hilltop, two Spitfires chased a fleeing Junkers 88 escaping from an attack on the beaches and shot it down right in front of the position, to a tumultuous cheer from the trenches. On seeing this, the German defenders of Ste-Honorine opened up, shelling the RUR positions. Immediately work began to build up the hastily dug trenches to provide better protection, another lesson learnt the hard way. Some time during this barrage the attack from 1 RUR started. After what seemed a long pounding, followed by silence, it became apparent that Devlin and Two Section were on their own; the remainder had moved off without sending word to the small group. On top of this shock discovery, the Ulsters’ attack was faltering, then as if nothing could get worse, the cry of ‘Tanks!’ went up. Tanks were spotted leaving the village, heading directly towards Two Section to clear them off the feature. Devlin hurriedly prepared for withdrawal, quickly packing away his range card and panoramic sketch of his firing position’s given arcs. Under the section commander they legged it back towards Ranville, which had been the first French village to be liberated.
On their arrival a paratrooper sentry informed them that the Ulsters’ attack had failed, and that, after retreating, the battalion had headed for Longueval. Getting a grip on his sniper rifle once more, Devlin headed off with Two Section and found the remainder of the company digging in at a holding position on the ‘Top Road’. 18 Platoon lined the bank of a sunken road interlocked with the other platoons. Two Section joined them and hurriedly dug in again, awaiting the expected German counterattack. Devlin was pushed forward of the emerging position, just out of earshot of the hasty digging, to be used as a forward early warning to the remainder of the company, a routine task for any sniper.
After such a counter-attack failed to materialize the company was ordered to push to the southern end of Longueval village where they were told to dig in for the third time that day, Devlin dug his new shell scrape by the former German headquarters, now being used as the regimental aid post (RAP). On completing his new scrape and before settling down, he made out a new range card and sketched a new panorama detailing known distances, and identifying, marking and listing reference points. These were to help in target indication and fire control. Finally Paddy was able to put something on to eat and boil a brew, not forgetting also to clean his sniper rifle. The remainder of 7 June was uneventful. However, after a night of routine, the position was attacked, this time by two Spitfires mistaking them for Germans! The division suffered 800 casualties between 5 and 7 June.
Night patrol
The young platoon commander of 18 Platoon, Lieutenant Mike Gann, who had left Two Section behind on the Ring Contour, was tasked to carry out a reconnaissance of his old position, for the night of 9 June. To help carry out his task he picked his scout-sniper, Devlin, to lead the way, navigate into the target area and, he hoped, back out again. Patrick relished the chance to show what he could do. The mission was to recce Two Section’s old position to see if it was now occupied by enemy forces. For Devlin, this was a typical sniper skill and one in which he was well rehearsed. To keep noise to a minimum it was to be a very small, three-man, patrol. The final member was one who always looking for some action; Lance Corporal Geordie Gibbs would bring up the rear.
This patrol was useful for Devlin as it enabled him to shake out his scouting skills and get some experience under his belt. En route the patrol passed by the lone para sentry and, after exchanging passwords, gained the information that to his knowledge the contour feature was definitely now occupied by the Germans, ‘Yes, they are on the hill.’ After leaving the relative safety of the defensive position, Devlin signalled a patrol stop, spending several minutes in all-round defence to ensure eyes and ears were adjusted to the conditions.
Now moving on, Paddy and his companions crept ever nearer, and with the certain knowledge of its occupation ever more cautious, until within earshot of the trenches where they lay low and listened to German voices talking. Mission accomplished, the lead scout then led the satisfied patrol back to headquarters where Lieutenant Gann made his report.
Several days later another sniper task came in. C Company commander wanted Devlin to flush out a German sniper from a building that overlooked the defensive positions from 100 metres or so outside the village. Paddy quickly gathered up his sniping equipment and set off in the direction of the barn on task.
To ensure he kept out of line of sight he went up the street using the walls, alleyways, windows, doorways and gardens for concealment. He well knew the superiority of the German machine guns and feared a burst along the street or indeed a shot from the sniper he hunted. He worked his way up the street, house by house, garden by garden, until the last house but one. The final house was a large two-storey stone barn-type dwelling. This he reckoned would provide him with a decent position from which to search out the enemy hide in the wooden barn not far distant.
All but the second-last house had been deserted, and in it he discovered a lone Frenchwoman cowering from view and peeping out at him and then indicating the direction from which the fire had come. Paddy made his way through her house and into the last one. Here he took in what he could see of the stone barn. He would have liked to remove roof tiles from several places and use one of the holes to shoot from, but decided not to. He had to assume that the building was under observation so no change to the appearance could happen. Instead he crept inside, keeping in the shadow and avoiding any doors and windows in plain view of the enemy arc of fire as he searched up and down the house for a fire position but found none suitable.
Instead of lying in a observation position waiting for any sign of movement from his enemy, and to the dismay of the company commander who had been following his progress, a frustrated Devlin simply jumped into the street, adopted the kneeling position and fired off two rounds rapid into the barn in the hope of enticing his opponent into giving away his position, whilst using the covering fire to get himself a better look! The OC grabbed him by the shoulder of his Denison smock and pulled him back into cover as several shots rang out from the German.
This method of ‘locating the enemy’ is normally used as a last resort in order to entice an enemy observer to open fire, and it comes with risk. The least important member of a sub-unit would usually be tasked to provide the movement not a sniper, a most valuable asset! In this case the move led to a tit-for-tat counter-snipe match between the two snipers with neither side hitting the other. This duel went on for some while until it became apparent the German sniper was not alone. After the German fire intensified Patrick Devlin was recalled.
Whilst Devlin was battling it out at the barn, the remainder of his company had taken their first casualties during repeated counter-attacks by the German forces. He was then ordered to pack up his kit and get back to his company. Several days of relative inactivity in the trenches followed, until 1 RUR was relieved by 5th Cameron Highlanders of 51st Highland Division. As the Camerons took over each position from the Ulsters the Scotsmen bragged that they would show the Irish how to attack! The Highlanders’ attack went in but the bragging Scots never lasted long – within minutes they were defeated and came running back through the Ulsters! The Ulsters then had to quickly re-man the trenches that had been far too easily abandoned.
The bombardment that followed that incident seemed similar to Devlin to one he suffered on an occasion when he was caught out in the open whilst out sniping one day. With only a skinny lone tree for cover, he lay in the open ground for thirty minutes under incoming fire. This is one of the reasons that snipers were often disliked by their own side during the Second World War. Any sign of sniper activity along the lines or in no-man’s land could easily result in the area concerned being pounded by artillery – a once peaceful scene would turn violent due to the presence of a sniper. Indirect fire was one of the only effective ways to catch a sniper out and kill him.
Through the second half of June and into July 1944 the fighting in Normandy developed into a virtual stalemate; the Germans’ quick reaction to the Allied landings had prevented a rapid break-out from the bridgehead. Instead, every metre was going to have to be cleared and fought for. Allied losses to German snipers at night were particularly noticed, as was the Germans’ clever concealment and use of cleared passageways through the Normandy hedgerows, providing cover from view and from fire. This pretty little area, known as La Suisse Normande (‘Swiss Normandy’), with its rolling hills, thick hedge rows, streams, rivers, orchards, patchwork fields and dense woods, stone-built towns and picturesque villages, favoured defence not attack, and therefore assisted the Germans. The Germans, too, showed their superior combat skills and experience, retaining the determination and the ability to fight even after suffering heavy casualties, often reforming broken units to continue the battle. The stubborn and resourceful character of German troops involved in a rearguard action was well known amongst the advancing Allied units.
Scout-snipers were trained to a high level of fieldcraft and were considered among the best in those skills within a battalion. Good ones were hard to come by. Because of their specialist skills they were trusted to lead patrols of the highest level, advising company command and battalion headquarters. Unfortunately young officers often struggled to accept the word of the sniper and would doubt or disregard him, instead favouring their own opinions. This could lead to disastrous results, as Devlin found out towards the end of June 1944.
During a scouting task for B Company, Paddy was ordered to infiltrate the forward enemy positions and help B Company troops to capture a prisoner. Snipers get to know the ground they operate in like their back garden and this ground knowledge soon came in handy. Devlin led a platoon out through their own lines into no-man’s land towards the enemy. Before they had even passed through the sentry position of their own defences, and were still in relative safety, one of the platoon feigned illness and refused to be budged, not wanting to risk his life. After this was finally sorted out, Paddy shook his head then continued on; he could see that discipline was poor and was expecting a long night of it. His idea was to lead them to a forward sentry machine-gun position he had noted on an earlier patrol. As far as he was concerned that part was routine.
After stopping short of the intended objective Devlin called forward the platoon commander. Paddy briefed him on the exact location of the German position but from there it all turned into a shambles. The young officer scolded Devlin for his actions and refused to accept his directions, stating that there was no way the enemy were anywhere near the said location. At this he promptly walked along the hedge to the position Devlin had shown him, only to be challenged in German! On being challenged, the foolish but brave officer jumped into the hedge firing a burst from his Sten gun to which machine-gun fire was returned. He was never seen again. The rest of the platoon all ran off back to their own lines, chased by bullets spraying the area from the German machine gunner. They left the officer to his fate; not one man from the patrol stepped forward to help. The dejected sniper, not wanting to leave the officer like this but unable to do much about it on his own, patrolled back to friendly lines. When he got there, the sentry stated that ‘the shambles’ had returned a good twenty minutes beforehand. In the after-math Devlin made a detailed and frank report of what had happened and handed it in to headquarters.
Later on in the war, whilst wounded and in hospital, Devlin was shown a long list of the ‘missing in action’. The only name he recalled was of this tragic officer, whom Devlin had to assume was dead.
Allied casualties during the first phase of Operation Overlord, including killed, wounded, missing and captured, were later estimated to be approximately 10,000 for the invaders against 4,000–9,000 German defenders. For 1st Royal Ulster Rifles the figures were killed 85, wounded 235 and missing 35. One of the wounded was Devlin’s company commander, though he would later return to lead C Company to the Seine after the breakout.
After numerous weeks on the defensive east of the River Orne, many of the airborne troops were chomping at the bit, wanting to get on, out of the bridgehead and away from the normal infantry defensive role. In the middle of August the order to advance came and 6th Airborne eyes turned towards the open countryside between the Rivers Orne and Seine. Rifleman Devlin, C Company, 1st Royal Ulster Rifles, and the rest of 6th Airborne Division advanced, continually harrying the Germans as they retreated to the Seine near the port at Le Havre, fighting through and capturing Deauville, Trouville and Honfleur en route.
The high command decided that the better to control and coordinate all the different airborne units during the push into Germany that a unified, single headquarters and structure was required for the airborne forces. Therefore, during August 1944, the Allied First Airborne Army was formed. It gathered into its structure several American and all of the British airborne units. The first mission for the new army was only weeks away, Operation Market Garden. Preparations for this were already under way, but because the men of 6th Airborne had fought long and hard in Normandy, they were to miss it. Instead, having left their weapons in France, they went home on leave! As Devlin put it after the event, ‘By luck I’ve missed the Arnhem shambles.’
Leave and new battles
Early in September 1944 the whole 6th Airborne Division was sent back to England to rest and reorganize. The men left via the Mulberry harbour built at Arromanches on the invasion beaches. There were two of these temporary harbours built for the Normandy invasion, designed and developed to off-load men and equipment. Various pier and breakwater structures were made in Britain, then floated very slowly, piece by piece, across the English Channel to be assembled and positioned off the landing beaches and then anchored to the seabed by chains – an amazing feat of military engineering. Mulberry A for the American forces was built off the coast at St-Laurent-sur-Mer by Omaha Beach, and Mulberry B was the harbour assembled for Gold Beach at Arromanches, for use by the British and Canadian invasion forces.
After some reorganization back in England, Devlin and his mates were rushed back into action in late December, arriving in Belgium on Boxing Day. They found themselves fighting off a major German counter-attack in the forests of the Ardennes for a month in absolutely freezing conditions. The Battle of the Bulge, as it became known, was Hitler’s attempt to retake the initiative earlier lost at Normandy. Towards the end of February 1945, after tough fighting all the way to the banks of the Maas River, capturing the villages of Bures and Wavreille en route, the division was again sent back to England, this time to Salisbury Plain where they practised for the next and possibly their last operation of the war, the crossing of the Rhine.
The Rhine crossing
HQ XVIII Corps (of First Allied Airborne Army) now planned Operation Varsity. This was executed and led by Major General Matthew Ridgway. Lieutenant-General Gale had moved up to Deputy Corps Commander and Major-General Eric Bols had taken over 6th Airborne. Operation Varsity was to be the biggest airborne assault of the Second World War. The plan was to land gliders and parachutists slap bang in the middle of the German forces, thus preventing them from counter-attacking against ground forces making the river crossing. What was more, like Arnhem, it was to be achieved in broad daylight.
After a spot of home leave, Rifleman Patrick Devlin found himself once again preparing for a major operation. He travelled from Bulford to another wire-enclosed transit camp, this time in Essex, where after the briefing about the forthcoming event, he and the rest of the participants were routinely barred from leaving camp. During this confinement Devlin questioned himself about his voluntary return to the war.
At home in Galway, his mother had brought much pressure onto Patrick to decline to return to England and the certainty of further combat, even going so far as inviting a priest to the house in the hope of dissuading him. ‘After all,’ they said to Paddy, ‘it’s not our war. You’ve done your bit lad, and no one could speak ill of you for not wanting to go back. Eire is neutral.’
Paddy turned to his father for advice, ‘The decision is yours, son’ said Patrick’s father. Young Devlin was adamant. Not pausing for one moment, he chose to return to the front. But here, in confinement once again, once more on the eve of battle, he had time and second thoughts about his romantic fool-hardiness to have returned so eagerly .
24 March 1945
Up early at 0245 hours, breakfast, followed by a chilly truck ride to RAF Rivenhall near Colchester to emplane. On arrival at the airfield after the journey, the troops were taken straight to their gliders; hundreds of them littered the field. Lift-off was not for a few hours so to keep warm the soldiers played football in the dark. The weather status was good, ideal conditions for the morning’s flight.
As before, each platoon had been allocated its own glider. On boarding Devlin sat in the same seat as he had done before for D-Day, by the window, with the exit door in view. He had learnt from experience that on landing gliders quickly became shot up. He wanted to be first out the forward port door on landing and not be left queuing to exit. Varsity was to become the largest single airborne operation in history – 1,348 gliders and 1,696 aircraft took 21,680 airborne soldiers, in one lift, towards Germany.
After a smooth, uneventful take-off Devlin dozed for the 3½-hour flight, and perhaps ‘with the carefree attitude of the young’, thinking ‘it won’t happen to me’, was much more relaxed this time. Devlin mentioned after the war that, despite the danger, travelling by glider was less nerve-wracking than advancing across ground, because you cannot hear much because of the slipstream.
On their arrival over the landing zones things were different. Devlin could now hear the sounds of battle. To add to the confusion, there was fog, dust and smoke all over the field. Around 1030 hours the tug cast away the tow rope and the pilots guided the glider down to its final destination, LZ U3. The glider landed on the correct LZ but on the wrong side, far away from the objective. This, however, turned out to be a stroke of luck. One of the five gliders involved in this part of the operation was badly shot up. By landing at the wrong end of the LZ Devlin’s glider had managed to miss most of the incoming fire. And thus it was that Paddy Devlin made his second operational air landing.
The 6th Air Landing Brigade had been given the hardest task of all, capturing the town of Hamminklen and the bridges over the River Issel. The initial task for 18 Platoon was to take a t-junction on the road to the south of Hamminklen, with the river, being a couple of kilometres away (though this distance was now greater as they had landed nowhere near the intended location). The glider carrying 18 Platoon put down in a ploughed field. On landing, whilst others over-cautiously stowed the door into the ceiling, Paddy sprinted through the doorway, leapt to the ground and then ran down the length of the glider to take up a fire position at the rear. As he did so he realized he was being shot at by two Germans, about fifty metres away in the front door way of a two-storey farmhouse. One Jerry was firing an MP 40 at the glider as the troops debussed. Devlin returned the fire, chasing the pair of them into the farmhouse. Who knows what damage they would have caused against the glider troops but for Devlin’s quick response?
At that moment two enemy armoured personnel carriers sped into view heading down the road from behind the farm house. It was not clear whether they were trying to reinforce the enemy position or run away. In any case Devlin hit several soldiers in both vehicles as they sped past – this raised his morale a bit. Once the platoon commander had got his bearings and the men were reorganized, they were ready to move off to the objective.
Two Section took point, spread out and headed off across the ploughed field in the direction of the road junction. Paddy Devlin felt exposed as he walked across the open field so he decided to move closer to a ditch running along the edge of a wood. As he moved nearer, though, he noticed a German MG 34 gun team, who seemed to be clearing a stoppage from their gun. Paddy knew he had to reach the ditch before they had cleared the stoppage and gunned him down; he was right in their view. When Devlin was less than 100 metres from the gun team they opened fire. The burst hit Paddy in the arm and the small of his back down the right side. Dropping his weapon, he fell face first to the ground and froze still. The Germans, thinking they had killed him, did not shoot at him again. His right arm was broken from the impact of the rounds, and he felt blood running down his right thigh as he lay there unable to move.
Devlin had to stay there for some while until, the Germans having moved off, the pilots from the glider crawled past keeping low. Devlin called for help, which startled them – they stated afterwards that they had thought he was a goner. Paddy pleaded for help to get into the ditch but they continued on their way, much to his anger. Lucky for Patrick he had friends and soon after Rifleman Bertie Birchall came back looking for him. After an unsuccessful attempt on his own to lift his wounded friend Bertie left, coming back with Rifleman McCrea. At this point they discovered that the ‘blood’ Devlin had pouring onto his legs was in fact leaking from tins of condensed milk intended for their tea break! Devlin was dragged off towards the regimental aid post.
Outside the aid post was a smashed glider lying partially in the road, and partially in the ditch; scenes of battle were all around. Before reaching the RAP Devlin and his helpers came under fire from two more enemy vehicles, this time eight-wheeled APCs that came into view shooting everywhere. Both sides were letting loose at each other so Birchall and McCrea dropped Devlin and legged it for cover. Patrick fell into the ditch just as a PIAT took out a German vehicle. This then crashed into the ditch next to Paddy and the broken glider, with the soldiers in it trying to jump out and take cover from the over whelming British fire. Germans were shot all around Paddy as he lay there in the middle of it all! After this battle had finished Devlin finally reached the medical officer, who tended his wounds.
Casualties
Allied casualties in the airborne attack were lighter than expected when planning the operation. They were significant all the same, mainly because of the decision to go in daylight rather than risk scattering the troops in the darkness. Of the 7,220 men who had landed as part of 6th Airborne Division, by the end of the first day of Varsity about 1,400 were killed, wounded or missing in action. This figure, sadly for Devlin, included Lieutenant Mike Gann, his platoon commander, who was killed in action.
For Rifleman Patrick Devlin the war was over and he was sent back to England along the casualty evacuation chain. From the aid post he went back to the Rhine bridgehead, going over the newly built Bailey bridge back over the river to the field hospital. From hospital he moved on to Goch, then Venrey where he had plaster put on his arm, and then to Bruges in Belgium. Finally he flew to RAF Lyneham in Wiltshire by Dakota and on landing he was sent to Basingstoke hospital for further treatment.
Devlin’s kitbag caught up with him eventually, so on VE-Day, 8 May 1945, he sneaked out of bed, donned his best uniform and went absent without leave for three days. He went to London where, by his own admission, he ‘whooped it up!’ When he returned he was unceremoniously told off and sent to Shaftesbury military hospital, which was much stricter and harder to abscond from. After a while Paddy was discharged from Shaftesbury, downgraded and sent to Villach in south Austria, from where he was finally demobbed in September 1946.
Author’s note
‘Kill one man, terrify a thousand’ – Ancient Chinese Proverb. From the outset I was very interested in writing this chapter and in particular I wanted to write it about a British Army sniper. Not only because I was one but for several other reasons. Firstly, this is the first piece of sniper writing I have done since my book Sniper One: The Blistering True Story of a British Battle group Under Siege was published. Secondly, and more importantly, because so little is written or known about British snipers, I hope my choice helps in some small way to redress the balance.
Snipers were not popular soldiers back then and were thought of as ‘unsporting’. Of course another reason is that so few actually survived the war at all. There are now many ‘famous’ snipers – Zaitsev, Allerberger and others – but very few British ones. It proved very difficult to find a subject to write my chapter about. Rifleman Patrick Devlin came to me after much reading and researching of web sites, ending up with a written request to the Imperial War Museum for assistance. The help I received was enormous and immediately the private papers of Patrick Devlin were offered to me amongst others and it was then I decided to write about him. All quotes in the chapter are taken from the private papers, though I have filled in some detail using a bit of artistic license.
References
Patrick R. Devlin, Private Papers: Unpublished
Gregor Ferguson, The Paras: British Airborne Forces 1940–1984 (Osprey, 1984)
Adrian Gilbert, Sniper One On One: The World of Combat Sniping (Sidgwick and Jackson, 1994)
John Man, The Penguin Atlas of D-Day and the Normandy Campaign (Penguin, 1994)