In Chariots Of Iron

In Chariots Of Iron

The personal adventures of a soldier in a Canadian Armoured Brigade during World War II from training to VE Day

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SMASHWORDS EDITION

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PUBLISHED BY: Ray W. Lane on Smashwords

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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Acknowledgements

I would like to acknowledge that the first chapter entitled A Tribute to the Men with whom I Served and part of the last chapter, Love and Kisses to the Canadian Army were first published in Voices, a column in The Edmonton Journal.

I would also like to acknowledge the encouragement and help I received from those who proof-read the text; namely my daughter Ruth Kanter, friends, Art Davison, Bud Liversidge, Cathy Welburn and professional editor, Gayl Veinotte.

I am deeply grateful to Vanessa Cordery for her many helpful suggestions and the added eye catching lettering and background she provided for the cover.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Introduction

Remembering

War Declared

Chapter 1. Training – Calgary, Nanimo

Chapter 2. Training – Dundurn, Borden

Chapter 3. Regiment Arrives in Britain

Chapter 4. Normandy

Chapter 5. In Action at Last

Chapter 6. Three Fearful Days

Chapter 7. The Mad Charge – Worst Day of my Life.

Chapter 8. Closing The Falaise Gap Days of Confusion

Chapter 9. Falaise to Nyjmegen

Chapter 10. Nyjmegen to the Rhine

Chapter 11. Crossing the Rhine

Chapter 12. Ijssel River to Deventer

Chapter 13. Deventer to the Causeway

Chapter 14. Causeway to the War’s End

Chapter 15. A show of Force and the Horror of Bergen Belson

Chapter 16. The Long Wait

Conclusion: Casualties of War

Glossary

My Sherman Chariot

Five passenger ATV—Good for hunting and shooting, both ways—500 Horses.

Weight about 30 tons—Speed about 28 MPH.

Can withstand attacks from bears or elephants but vulnerable to German Tiger tanks.

THE REASON FOR WAR

INTRODUCTION

On security grounds I was not permitted to keep a diary. I relied on my memory. There were a few vague recollections but events I describe here, burned themselves forever into my mind.

To make my personal experiences as accurate as possible, I used the regimental History of the First Hussars, newsletters of the Sherbrooke Fusiliers, the History of the South Alberta Regiment, General Montgomery’s writings, Denis Whitaker’s Victory at Falaise and other published historical war records. I also possess detailed maps of the areas in which I fought. They all helped to clear a fading memory.

Like other veterans, for many years I remained silent—not even my family knew of my experiences. In my later years I felt it wrong for people to be left ignorant, and forget the causes of war or the sacrifices of those who never returned.

After I retired at 65, I returned to my skills as a water color artist. I painted many of my war memories and took prints of my paintings to my Regimental reunion. I showed friends. The events I described in art revived their recollections of the war. Some who saw my paintings suggested I should also write my war stories. I decided to do just that. To that end, I enrolled in a creative writing class and surprised myself that I could write. More surprisingly, some even liked my writing.

Unlike many writers who feel it necessary to provide an ambience of foul language on every page, you will not find much of it in my story.

To achieve what writers imagine is reality, they overdo it. Actually, I think the most violent words I heard were in the parade square—there were somewhat less in combat. In the presence of real violence and the actual possibility of being blown to pieces at any moment, we didn’t scream, holler and argue with one another. We saved our fights for the enemy. There was often ominous silence. In a tank, when action was hot and heavy, we tried to keep calm and speak in a normal voice to one another.

The Edmonton Journal of September 23, 1999 quoted David Grimes from the Sarasota Herald Tribune: "Dirty words are flying out of the mouths of men, women and children at a furious rate and for no apparent reason.

The result is not only a coarsening of the culture, but a devaluation of swear words themselves.

Normally cuss words, to be effective, must be used sparingly; otherwise they lose their shock value.

Clearly, today’s swear words and insults have lost their punch."

I must confess that I was always totally uncomfortable when in the constant environment of dirty words and profanity. It was something I endured just as did many others. However, to completely ignore it when writing the events of war would be untrue. On occasion therefore, I have included some colourful expressions where it added to the understanding, emotional impact or humour.

WAR IN THE MAKING

In 1934, I was 14 and beginning to comprehend and take an interest in what was happening in the world around me.

Two aggressive characters were making the news—Adolph Hitler of Germany and Mussolini of Italy. They both despised democracy and bullied their way to the top. By 1932 Hitler had complete control of Germany. He made no bones about his agenda. It was all there to read in his book Mein Kampf (My Struggle)—full of hatred of Jews, a belief in the superiority of the pure Germanic Aryan races, and his vision of Lebensraum (living space) for Germans. The book wasn’t a best seller outside Germany, but maybe it should have been, people might have reacted and the war wouldn’t have happened.

Hitler also organized massive gatherings where, with his extraordinary oratorical ability, he appealed to German racial pride, promoted the idea of German racial superiority, resurrected and increased the intensity of the historic anti-Semitism that had been rampant for centuries in all European countries, into a renewed murderous hatred of Jews.

His undisguised method for obtaining Lebensraum was to make war with nearby countries, take over, get rid of its inferior peoples and colonize it with the pure German races.

Top quality German couples were encouraged and rewarded for raising babies.

Germans considered mentally or physically unfit were sterilized. By 1945 around 400,000 had been sterilized and 200,000 handicapped Germans were euthanized. The purpose was to make Germans into a super race and remove the heavy burden of looking after the helpless and deformed.

Germany was not alone in this. Eugenics was all the rage at that time in the scientific communities of Britain, Europe and America. Sterilizing the unfit was practiced everywhere. It was when it came to deciding who was unfit that a good thing went wrong. Science became the moral arbiter of what was right and wrong and who was unfit.

In 1928, under the duress of many prominent political figures of all stripes, Alberta passed the most draconian sterilization act in the British Empire.

People who were considered candidates for sterilization were: feeble minded, mixed races, natives, certain nationalities, deaf mutes, the deformed, the poor and those with low IQ’s.

As in Germany the use of sterilization was open to questionable opinions, prejudices and abuse in determining who should be sterilized. In Alberta, a case came before the courts. A mother got rid of her daughter by putting her in the Provincial Training School in Red Deer. A dubious IQ test of 64 listed her as a moron and a candidate for sterilization. Her mother connived and without her daughter’s knowledge had her sterilized while having an appendectomy. A later test showed her to have an IQ of 89—quite acceptable. The woman sued the government and won.

This case demonstrated the possibilities of a good thing being misused.

In Germany, Hitler made the most of sterilization’s possibilities. A great way to get rid of his undesirables!

In Alberta the act was rescinded in 1972 and, eugenics fell into disrepute.

Hitler had a fourfold plan to achieve his dream of Lebensraum.

First to take over Czechoslovakia, Second: Russia, Third: Britain and France and finally the U.S.A..

It was sad that the leaders of other countries did not take his threat seriously—who could actually want war and do such things?

In spite of the fact that his evil agenda was not yet in full swing, concentration camps were already doing the nefarious business of getting rid of Jews, and political enemies in Germany.

His ruthless ambition required a massive military construction program. Hitler had already won over a large portion of the German people to an exaggerated idea of their racial superiority over other races. He revived pride in German values and convinced them the only way to rescue them from the deep poverty and depression into which they had fallen after the first Great War was a dictatorship with him at the head—The Fuhrer.

There is an honourable kind of patriotic pride, but this was pure arrogance.

The total capacity of Germany’s colossal industry was put to work rearming to make Germany into the mightiest military nation on earth. Unemployment became a thing of the past. People had jobs and money to spend. Hitler’s image was enhanced immensely.

It is doubtful that Hitler had any deep understanding of economics but he did hit upon the paradoxical crazy solution to economic depression that works—make war!

Meanwhile, what was happening in France, Britain and the U.S.?

What was happening here in Canada?

Unbelievable! Disarmament was the catch word.

University students paraded, shouting No more war! No more war! and signed pledges not to fight should there be another war no matter what the reason.

It was much the same in all the other western nations. It was counter productive to the peace they sought.

Hitler must have laughed! This mind-set made it so much easier for him to fulfill his lethal ambitions.

One after another we saw countries in Eastern Europe fall before him. In most cases Hitler’s armies simply marched in and took over.

I don’t understand what took so long for people and governments to realize that Hitler was doing exactly what he said he would do—his intentions were not hidden. His future agenda was there for all to read.

I couldn’t understand the German people. I was sure not every German agreed with him. In Canada we had German neighbours. Many were extremely flattered by Hitler’s boast of German superiority, believed it and dared to flaunt it. Stroking the ego does strange things to people. This race pride and admiration of Hitler led many to boldly express their anti-Semitic views. It angered many people.

This wasn’t like the Germans I personally knew as a boy. I thought of the sweet little German widow, Mrs Peterson who lived next door—always going out of her way to do kind things for our family and others. She was particularly fond of me. How could I think ill of her? There was also my best friend Henry Snyder—you couldn’t ask for a nicer guy! There was the Merchant Taylor who had been a high ranking officer in Germany before World War I. He left Germany because of its military posture. There were many others too, who weren’t like that. But Hitler, along with his eager followers, was a different breed.

By the time he invaded Czechoslovakia people were just beginning to wake up and worry about what he might do next. Many still clung to the notion that Hitler wasn’t such a bad boy and there would be no war—who wanted war?

Hitler’s next move was not long in coming. On September 1st the German Army invaded Poland. So began a global conflict as described by Encarta Encyclopaedia, that in terms of lives lost and material destruction would be the most devastating in human history.

REMEMBERING

A TRIBUTE TO THE MEN WITH WHOM I SERVED

When I was discharged, along with many others, I received a number of medals. It was often joked that they were issued with the rations (I think they were). They were certainly bestowed upon us without ceremony. Mine sat in a dresser drawer, oxidising and turning black because they were never worn.

I avoided going places where wearing them might be expected. It was difficult to explain that these medals simply described places where I served and actions in which I had participated—none for special acts of valour. I did my duty, obeyed orders and did the things every other soldier did—nothing above and beyond the call of duty. The risks which I suffered, so did the others.

When a friend asked another veteran and me to honour her husband, a First World War veteran, by wearing our medals at his funeral, I got a new perspective for wearing them. In particular I realised I had been neglecting to remember those fine men with whom I had served.

I was reinforcement, sent to replace someone who had been killed. I was proud to join the men in the two regiments with which I saw combat—the First Hussars and later the Sherbrooke Fusiliers. They bore the brunt of the fighting on the Normandy beaches. It was an honour, and an inspiration to become one of them.

Now you ask, What goes through your mind as you stand with others at the cenotaph on Remembrance Day?

My thoughts are probably much the same as those standing beside me.

What exactly do I remember?

I remember all the men who lost their lives on that very first day in action and never got the chance to wear these medals though earn them they did indeed! I wear mine vicariously for them.

I wear them to remember the first wounded man I saw coming from the front. He was on a jeep ambulance, which brushed by us as we moved up into action. Through the narrow slit of the periscope on my tank, I saw the unforgettable pallor and agony on the face of a horribly wounded man. I often wondered if he survived.

I wear them to remember Corporal Hannon, our driver, who had a shrapnel wound in the head that left him paralysed for life. How could I forget him? I wore his blood on my uniform for two weeks before I could get a change of clothes.

I wear them to remember Captain Oerton and Trooper Reg Burns, who stood out on our tank while still under fire to lift the wounded Corporal Hannon to safety.

I wear them to remember the brave, unselfish Sergeant Lilley, our troop sergeant, who, when his tank was hit and burning, ordered the crew to bail out and