Читать книгу A Bloody Dawn - Dan Harvey - Страница 13

2

DEVISING D-DAY

Fear is cold. It causes the body temperature to drop and the heart pounds faster. Fear widens your field of vision and each intake of breath is involuntarily shallower and quicker. As the early morning light of 6 June 1944 outlined the shape of the Normandy shoreline, those in the lead landing craft felt such fear. Dawn on D-Day revealed a grey, overcast sky, a rough green coloured sea flecked with white and a vast armada. In every direction there were ships as far as the eye could see; destroyers, sloops, frigates, cargo carriers, troop carriers, warships, merchant vessels, corvettes, minesweepers and specialist craft. This was the largest amphibious assault in history. Reassuringly, overhead flew a vast array of Allied aircraft at varying heights. Spitfires, Hurricanes and P-51 Mustang fighter aircraft wove neat circular patterns in the sky while Wellington, Lancaster and ‘Flying Fortress’ bombers and their fighter escorts flew directly landward.

Among the tightly packed, wet, cold, nervous troops heading for shore in the landing craft were many who were nauseous with seasickness, or fear, or both. The sheer scale of the Allied assault was unprecedented. Huge naval guns pounded the coast as the lead landing craft swept towards the beaches. Overhead, the bombers targeted German defensive positions, their aerial bombardments dropping tonnes of high explosives onto preselected targets. The long-awaited attack along the coastline of northern France onto Nazi-occupied Europe had begun. Shocking in its extraordinary expanse, the scale unimaginable, the magnificence of the military might and power that was being unleashed was a sight never to be forgotten by those who witnessed it, both attackers and defenders. Wonder and awe were not the only emotions experienced; dread and foreboding were uppermost also.

For some it was an acutely held fear, with a sickening sensation of a lead lump or an empty vacant hollowness in the pit of their stomach; a chronic dizziness in their head; an inability to concentrate or hold any focused, coherent, rational thought for long in their minds. Overall it presented a potential helplessness to react and overcome the challenge of a situation that threatened to overwhelm them. It had the capacity to bring about a withdrawal into oneself, a loss of ability to control the situation and themselves within it. It was both a physical and a psychologically felt paralysis, capable of delivering a numbing, crippling, dysfunctionality if not mastered. Many in the landing craft at sea, those paratroopers and glider-borne troops in the air, as well as those within the strong points, pillboxes and gun emplacements on shore were afraid. Moving progressively closer to the proximity of danger and the increased likelihood of harm or death were mostly young men, uninitiated troops new to battle. They were suddenly confronted with the sharp realisation that war was inglorious, impersonal and arbitrary; they were very soon to learn that combat itself was random, raw and brutal, because actually fighting in a battle was all about killing or being killed. Then there were those fearing fear itself. The fear of feeling afraid is one of the biggest of all fears. There were other fears also:

I always wished that if I got hit it would be clean and done with, that I would not be left lying screaming with a leg here or an arm there. So if I got hit cleanly it would be the first and I suppose the last that I would know about it. So that was the way I felt!

Private Tommy Meehan (Dublin),

2nd Battalion, Royal Ulster Rifles.

The reality of D-Day was the chaos of the fighting and the turmoil within the fighters, each man fearful and each man already at war with himself, as Corporal Peter Huntley, Royal Engineer Corps explained: ‘I was glad I was an NCO [Non-Commissioned Officer, mostly sergeants and corporals] because when you are frightened, and we were all frightened, as an officer you cannot show it.’ Stronger even than the fear of falling short of expectations, was the harbouring of a strong sense of imminent death. There were those who held a belief, a presentiment that something was going to happen, a feeling of certainty of dying. That those with such premonitions contributed to their own self-fulfilling prophecy is unknown, while others, reconciled to approaching death, were fatalistic.

***

D-Day was a bloody and terrifying battle; the horror of events anticipated and planned in advance. For months, even years beforehand, it was the fear of failure that occupied every waking, working moment of the D-Day invasion commanders and planners. The consequences of failure were immense and the possibility was to haunt them incessantly and insidiously. The repercussions of a fiasco, the dread of a debacle – and there were no guarantees that it would not be a washout – were huge. Doubts existed about not just the planning being flawed, but that the secret information, sensitive draft papers, maps and everything else contained therein would be either lost or stolen. To counter this, only those who were cleared with the appropriate security classification of ‘BIGOT’ were to catch sight of the details of Operation Overlord and other related documentation. The term ‘BIGOT’ was an acronym for ‘British Invasion of German Occupied Territory’ and denoted the highest level of security possible; above ‘Secret’ and even ‘Top Secret’. Adherence to this highly controlled circulation of the planning documents achieved the level of military secrecy and security required, and strict compliance to the list of those ‘BIGOTS’ entitled to receive such material was rigidly enforced.

Working out the details of the intended invasion plan, drawing up a blueprint and developing a stratagem was an onerous process, involving much effort and difficulty. It was taxing, exacting and wearisome, yet the professional Allied military planners were well aware of the army axiom, the accepted general principle that, ‘Plans are nothing but planning is everything’. As soon as you cross the start line and go on the offensive, when the first shots are fired, the plan often comes apart; war has a narrative all of its own. To further complicate matters, the ‘start line’ for this operation was a shoreline, a different prospect entirely and one for which the Germans had four years to prepare their defences. To rupture them, to break open the vital exits from the beach into the hinterlands, the planning had to take into consideration the assembly, equipping, training and transportation of a force capable of breaking through the German lines, as it is fighting power that achieves objectives on the battlefield. To penetrate the German defences demanded a build-up of military assets capable of exerting the application of a concentration of kinetic force so strong that it would overwhelm the defenders.

However, the plan also had to provide for being outmanoeuvred. Militarily, it would be reasonably straightforward, but the operation had to be mindful of its ability to drive off the German reserves in the inevitable counter-attack. It was about taking into account many matters all at once; time and space crucial among them, but there were so many elements vital to make the plan work: Getting the troops to shore, getting them onto the beaches, and then getting them inland in sufficient numbers with the capability to maintain their forward thrust was a start. Then the Allied forces had to join their separate footholds together into a bridgehead of sufficient width to affect an advance across northwest Europe. The planners identified, discussed and addressed the difficulties, only for more, other and further complexities to arise. The undertaking was enormous and the risks immense. There were so many uncontrollable, variable, unknown and unpredictable factors that plans relied on a mixture of ‘knowns’ and ‘assumptions’. There was such a thing as good and bad planning; the difference between having consideration of available assets, good intelligence, enemy strengths and weaknesses, clarity of purpose, and successfully matching the tasks to be achieved with the organisation of units to do so; and of course unity of command. To add further complexity, amphibious assault is one of the most dangerous manoeuvres to effect, due to the vulnerability of the troops involved. Get the planning wrong, miss something vital or not give sufficient weight to any one of a series of different elements contained in overcoming the powerfully designed and constructed defensive positions and the subsequent wherewithal to exploit an advance inland and onwards could prove fatal to the plan and those who had to execute it.

From this the military planners identified the critical criteria, taking into consideration the necessary constraints and limitations upon which the planning priorities hinged upon or were hindered by. Understanding these and paying attention to them increased the chances of the plan succeeding. Always conscious of the fact that it was one thing to plan the fight but someone actually had to execute it, make it work, win and survive concentrated the planners’ minds. In this regard attention was paid to the lunar cycle, as two requirements were considered essential; the right conditions of moonlight and tide. A late rising moon was necessary to afford cover of darkness to the first waves of the parachute drop, while offering the benefit of moonlight after they had landed. This had to coincide with a dawn low tide, so those going ashore on the beaches could best avoid the obstacles. The timing of the whole invasion depended on such factors, and these were added to the other prerequisites in order to decide the ‘where’ of the invasion. Away from heavily defended ports; within range of air cover; the availability of enough suitable beaches; and most importantly, at the location least expected by the enemy and thus delivering the essential element of surprise.

Translating the plan into actionable measures for the soldiers on the ground also involved the realisation that the Allies would be coming up against a new style of warfare. The Germans had reached the coast of France six weeks after they advanced into Europe, a feat unimaginable to their First World War counterparts. They had waged a new type of warfare, ‘blitzkrieg’ (lightning war), a military tactic designed to create disorganisation in the enemy forces through the use of mobile forces and concentrated firepower. The Allies realised this new warfare required a new kind of ‘warrior’ (commandos, rangers, paratroopers) and new equipment to meet the situation, plus specialised armour to clear a way through the obstacles defending the beach for the infantry. All of this and more had to be factored into the planning. If all this wasn’t enough to have to consider, or maybe because of it, an ever-present nagging doubt lingered in the minds of the planners. Was the plan good enough? Had it considered all that was foreseeable or was it going to be a costly farce? The Allies knew that the cost of getting the planning wrong could result in a catastrophe, and perhaps even lose them the war.

All in all there was a lot to be feared, both actual and imagined. The stakes were very high and all too real. The responsibilities of the role of the planners weighed heavily on their shoulders; theirs was a troubled duty, haunted by the prospect of getting it wrong. If D-Day were not to succeed, it would result in a lengthening of the war, with the stark reality of more lives lost, a continuance of Nazi tyranny in western Europe, and the continued potentially devastating effects of Hitler’s V-1 flying bombs and V-2 rockets – or ‘buzz-bombs’ and ‘doodlebugs’ as the British public called them. There was also his secret weapons programme; the jet-powered fighter prototype, the Messerschmitt Me 262 and the V-3, a multi-barrelled gun capable of firing 300 lb shells across the channel at the rate of one every six seconds, the so-called ‘London gun’.

The turning point of the war (after the Battle of Britain in the summer of 1940) was the Battle of Stalingrad (August 1942–February 1943) with the Soviet victory over the Germans demonstrating that the soldiers of the Wehrmacht, the ‘super race’, were not indestructible after all. Now the advancing Red Army was threatening the frontiers of Germany, and perhaps beyond, further westwards. Finally, there was the unthinkable prospect of the headway being made by German scientists in developing the atomic bomb. The answer to stopping this was the Allies opening the second front via the D-Day invasion of the northern coast of France, and it had to be successful.

***

Among those prominent in preparing the plan was Commander Rickard Charlie Donovan, Royal Navy, from Ballymore, Ferns, County Wexford. He was part of the Plans Division of those co-ordinating the services at Combined Operations, set up for the strategic and tactical planning for the reinvasion of Europe. In 1942, the chief of combined operations was Lord Louis Mountbatten (blown up by the Provisional IRA in Mullaghmore, County Sligo, in August 1979). It was a distinct and individual branch of the military that was to become a ‘fourth armed service’ in itself. Donovan was an exceptional staff officer in every way, and in December 1943 was promoted to Deputy Director of Combined Operations and in 1944 Senior Deputy Director. He was one of those on the ‘BIGOT’ list responsible for working out the detailed planning necessary for Operation Overlord.

Rickard Donovan was a former First World War submarine commander on one of a number of small, dangerous, cramped and unhealthy submarines (L7) attacking Turkish vessels in the Dardanelles. Leaving the Royal Navy after the war, he rejoined the service during the Second World War and became one of those immersed in designing D-Day. He was retained after the war to write the history of the Combined Operations (available in the Public Records Office, Kew Gardens and London). Decidedly Irish, he was awarded the CBE by the United Kingdom on 14 June 1945 and later the Legion of Merit by the USA. He died in 1952 at the relatively young age of fifty-four, having suffered from high blood pressure, ulcers and tuberculosis (TB). He never received any recognition or honour in Ireland for his contribution, at which he was always disappointed.

Identifying problems and planning to overcome them saw those in Combined Operations drawing the strings of purism and pragmatism together. Combining new technologies and innovations to tackle the beach obstacles was just one such area of interest, one that was to bring Rickard Donovan in contact with at least two fellow Irishmen. One was Michael Morris (later Lord Killanin), a BIGOT-cleared staff officer in General Hobart’s unique 79th Armoured Division, a unit that developed ingenious innovations on specially converted armoured vehicles (a tank chassis, but complete with gun turret) customised to overcome the beach obstacles. Another was General Percy Hobart, who was in fact Irish – his father was from Dublin and his mother from County Tyrone. His widowed sister, Betty, married Monty (General Bernard Law Montgomery, himself) so they were actually brothers-in-law. Michael Morris had been born in London in 1914; his father was from Spiddal, County Galway, and was killed in action on 1 September 1914 as officer commanding with the Irish Guards at Villers-Cotterêts in France. Morris was originally commissioned into a Territorial Army Unit, the Queen’s Westminsters, in 1938 and he subsequently became part of the 30th Armoured Brigade as a major, Being part of the 79th Armoured Division, he was their brigade major present at Normandy on D-Day. For this wartime work he was awarded an MBE. Made Lord Killanin from the age of thirteen upon the death of his uncle, Michael Morris married (Mary) Sheila Cathcart Dunlop from Oughterard, County Galway, who was herself awarded an MBE for her work contributing towards breaking the famous German ‘Enigma’ code. Lord Killanin was later to become President of the International Olympic Committee 1972–80, the director of a number of Irish companies, and together with John Ford produced a number of notable movies. He died at his home in Dublin in 1999 and was buried following a bilingual mass in the family vault in Galway.

The initiation, design and development of D-Day had a necessary geopolitical strategic context to it and it was nested, nurtured and advanced incrementally and internationally between the USA, Britain and Russia, that is between Roosevelt, Churchill and Stalin respectively, over a number of years. An early, close and long-time influential friend and advisor to Winston Churchill, particularly on his becoming Prime Minister and in his prosecution of the war against Hitler, was Irishman Brendan Bracken. Born in Templemore, County Tipperary, he was the second son of Joseph Bracken, a builder and monumental mason, member of the Irish Republican Brotherhood (IRB) and one of seven founders of the Gaelic Athletic Association (GAA, Cumann Lúthchleas Gael). Brendan Bracken chose to play down his Irish background, and over time – through the overlapping of his successful newspaper publishing career and politics – he was to become part of the British establishment and a close friend and confidant of Winston Churchill, He was Churchill’s parliamentary secretary (1940) and Minister for Information (1941–5) and was subsequently elevated to the peerage as Viscount Bracken of Christchurch in 1952. Bracken played a key role behind the scenes in easing Anglo-American co-operation after the Japanese Pearl Harbor attack on 7 December 1941, when the USA had to be persuaded to concentrate initially on defeating the Nazis in Europe.

In January 1942, at the Anglo-American Conference in Washington (codenamed ‘Arcadia’), Churchill and his senior military staff suggested that should the USA pursue the Pacific campaign first against Japan, it might leave Germany alone to perhaps defeat Russia and then Britain, this resulting in both Japan and Germany forming an alliance to confront America all on its own. A year later, the Casablanca Conference (January 1943) saw Churchill and Roosevelt formally agree the ‘Germany First’ policy for a combined Anglo-American war effort in northwest Europe. As a result, a combined military planning cell was established in London to oversee detailed proposals for the invasion plan. Lieutenant General Frederick Morgan (British), with the title of Chief of Staff to the Supreme Allied Commander (COSSAC), was appointed with an initial staff of fifty officers from Britain, the USA and Canada to form the basis for Operation Overlord and deliberations began in March 1943. This staff was to grow to over 300 officers and 600 other ranks as they worked throughout the spring, summer and autumn of 1943.

***

‘There it is … it won’t work. I know it won’t work, but you’ll bloody well have to make it work’ (General Alan Brooke, Chief of the Imperial General Staff to Lieutenant General Frederick Morgan (COSSAC)). Strength was to ‘guarantee’ success, but getting this strength to shore demanded ships and there were not enough of them available. Getting ashore and staying ashore, forcing the invasion and making it stick, became the work of COSSAC. Looking at the ‘where to invade’ options, selecting one, then analysing the associated problems and providing the answers kept them busy throughout 1943. This parallel military strategic planning effort developed from the Political Strategic Progress and was to further escalate after the Tehran ‘Big Three’ meeting of Roosevelt, Churchill and Stalin at the end of 1943.

Once convinced, the Americans were anxious to invade France, and as soon as possible. The British wanted to first ‘tighten the ring around Germany’ with other theatres of involvement in Italy, the Balkans and in the Mediterranean, to limit the German ability to wage war (by bombing the industrial heartland) and also to rid themselves of the Kriegsmarine’s U-boat menace, before going ashore. The British effort to bring this appreciation to the Americans was aided considerably by General Alan Brooke, Chief of the Imperial General Staff from Colebrooke, County Fermanagh, the son of Sir Victor Brooke and Lady Brooke. Granted land in County Donegal during the Elizabethan era, a year after the 1641 rebellion they were rewarded with more (30,000 acres in County Fermanagh) for defending what they already had. He was among a number of British generals who had connections with Ireland and who were involved in the conduct of the war at the highest level, be it through birth, upbringing, ancestry, domicile, education or family background. None was more formidable a figure than Alan Brooke himself, whose efforts to persuade his American counterparts were important in order for them to comprehend that landing an invasion force was problematic enough, but more difficult was reinforcing, supplying and maintaining it, and that this build-up of necessary numerical strength and equipment would take time.

In his effort to make the Americans aware and understand the necessary strength needed to invade France and to maintain it there, he was amply aided by his predecessor as chief of the imperial general staff, another British general from Ireland appointed by Prime Minister Churchill as head of the British Joint Staff Mission in Washington, Field Marshal Sir John Greer Dill. Already known to and respected by General George Marshall, his once American equivalent, Dill’s personality saw a fruitful working relationship develop and progress made with plans and proposals. Dill represented Prime Minister Churchill as his Minister for Defence in America and was a – perhaps ‘the’ – vital link in Washington in the Anglo-American Alliance from January 1942 until his untimely death in November 1944. Despite differences on both sides, Dill ensured that not only did these not become difficulties, but through his effective work that they not become injurious to his cementing the co-operation of the Alliance. When he died he was granted the privilege and unique honour of burial in Arlington Cemetery, normally only reserved for fallen US military on active service, such was the esteem and respect in which he was held by the Americans. Now buried among them is a field marshal of the British Army from Ireland, a banker’s son from Lurgan, County Armagh. On the early but separate deaths of his parents, John Dill went to live with his uncle, Reverend Joseph Burton, and was educated first in Belfast’s Methodist College then Cheltenham College in Gloucestershire, before entering Sandhurst.

The Anglo-American Alliance had been successfully agreed, cemented and continued, giving life to and copper fastening the D-Day planning. It can now been seen that Field Marshals Dill (Armagh) and Brooke (Fermanagh) and the Viscount Bracken (Tipperary), all from Ireland, played a background, but nonetheless vital, role in the influencing of the D-Day decision, design and delivery.

The D-Day Plan had been conceived, created and composed, and Operation Overlord had been put into place. It would not be long, however, before another pair of ‘Irish eyes’ saw it and the Plan was radically revised.