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  A lot of people changed. They went berserk. Generally, they [the enemy] do their best till you’re on top of them and once they’re exposed to it, well, they want to just ‘hands up, it’s all over’, so to speak. They hate the moment it doesn’t happen that way. A man goes down … well, he’s finished. You kill him – you’ve got to do that. You’ve got to do that. It’s a pressure. It’s him or you and that’s it. You just shot or bayoneted the man who’s in front of you. The man that’s defying you from completing your task. Because while you were allowing him to survive, somebody beside him, or coming round, was going to take your life. So, in other words, you couldn’t allow anybody to survive. You had to kill him. After all, it’s in darkness. He’s not just a person standing up when he jumps up out of his slit trench shouting ‘Kamerad’ or whatever. You can’t stop to think because the quicker that you put him away, the better. He could have a revolver in his hand or anything and it is dark. All you see is the figure. To you, the silhouette there is the enemy to be destroyed and that’s all that’s in it. There are no second thoughts because if there are, that’s that.26

  What Devaney’s training had taught him and others like him to guard against was precisely what happened to Hugh Samwell:

  Suddenly I heard a shout of ‘Watch out!’ and the next moment something hard hit the toe of my boot and bounced off. There was a blinding explosion, and I staggered back holding my arm over my eyes instinctively. Was I wounded? I looked down rather expecting to see blood pouring out, but there was nothing – a tremendous feeling of relief. I was unhurt. I looked for the sergeant who had been beside me. At first I couldn’t see him, and then I saw him lying sprawled out on his back groaning. His leg was just a tangled mess. I realised all at once what had happened: one of the enemy in the trench had thrown a grenade at me as he came out with his hands up. It had bounced off my boot as the sergeant shouted his warning, and had exploded beside him. I suddenly felt furious; an absolute uncontrollable temper surged up inside me. I swore and cursed at the enemy now crouching in the corner of the trench; then I fired at them at point-blank range – one, two, three, and then click! I had forgotten to reload. I flung my pistol away in disgust and grabbed a rifle – the sergeant’s I think – and rushed in. I believe two of the enemy were sprawled on the ground at the bottom of the square trench. I bayoneted two more and then came out again.27

  Despite their slogging fight the two battalions did not reach and capture the blue line – the final objective. It was a similar story further south again where 51st Reconnaissance Regiment and 50th RTR tanks did manage to reach their final objective but were driven back. Only on the extreme left, next to the New Zealanders, did the combined efforts of 5th Cameron Highlanders and 7th Black Watch put one platoon of the latter on the blue line, where they remained until morning.

  The 2nd New Zealand Division had an advance of between 5,000 and 6,800 yards from its start line. With 104 guns on a front that almost doubled between the start line and the final objective, a full creeping barrage was impossible, as Howard Kippenberger recorded:

  That meant that each gun would be firing on a lane 24 yards wide and increasing to 46 yards wide, far too few shells to the yard to be worth much as a barrage, for a barrage must saturate every yard of ground with shells to be effective. Accordingly, the artillery plan was for a fourth of the guns to fire on the barrage lines to help the infantry to keep direction and for the other three-quarters to fire concentrations on particular spots where the enemy was known to have defences. Therefore, by later standards, there was no real barrage. The divisional objective was equally divided between the two brigades, 5 Brigade having a little farther to go.28

  Once again, the rate of advance was 100 yards in three minutes, which proved too slow for the infantry. Nevertheless, Kippenberger’s brigade with 23rd Battalion leading and 21st and 22nd Battalions behind, pressed forward despite heavy fire and the minefields, amongst which were scattered many anti-personnel devices. Lieutenant Dick Wardell of 22nd Battalion described the scene:

  The enemy now opened up on us with everything they had and their fire was withering. They were obviously expecting us in spite of the utmost secrecy of our previous movements. It seemed impossible that anyone could advance into this fire, but we did. By now we were going through thick dust like fog caused by bursting shells and smoke from bursting shells; it was pinkish to look at as tracer bullets winging through all the time made it so. The enemy used tracer a lot and it was actually possible to avoid machine-gun tracer. You could see where it was going and walk beside it as they were firing mostly on fixed lines.29

  Meanwhile, out in front, 23rd Battalion’s commander, Lieutenant-Colonel Reg Romans, had stepped in when there was confusion over the location of his unit’s final objective, which supposedly stood on rising ground. Sergeant Tom Hutchesson recalled:

  [The Colonel] looked in the direction we had been advancing, saw Miteiriya Ridge looming up ahead and decided that was the only distinct rise… Colonel Romans stopped the discussion with ‘You see that rise ahead of you. That is your objective. Take it!’30

  The passage of 23rd Battalion had so far been too easy for its commander who stated ‘We haven’t done any real fighting yet – let’s get cracking.’ It was only later realized they had advanced too far and the battalion withdrew back through the barrage to its correct objective.

  Meanwhile, Dick Wardell had already had one lucky escape when a mortar shell had landed at his feet, blowing him into the air, and wounding his batman. In such a storm of fire as 22nd Battalion encountered, it was always likely his luck would run out:

  We pushed on all the time. The creeping barrage was crashing shells overhead and bursting about 200 yards in front of us. On we went and now right in front of us was a large German machine-gun pit with about 7 or 8 Germans firing with all they had; we charged them with Brens, Tommys and grenade and finished them off. Then on again. We had come a long way by this time and still the fire was terrific. Then we were going through a very heavy cloud of dust and smoke, and I got a most terrific whack on my shoulder and a burning pain. I was on the sand again with blood running down my arm onto my chest.31

  Wardell’s battle was over but his battalion had taken all its objectives by 0315hrs. In 6th New Zealand Brigade, 24th Battalion, assisted by 28th (Māori) Battalion which mopped up pockets of resistance, gained its objectives with relative ease but still suffered disproportionate casualties given that its rifle strength was about 180 down at the start.

  The artillery resources allotted to XIII Corps, which used 136 field guns to neutralize Axis guns, but which by at least one estimate had almost 300 guns available, suggest that Montgomery may to some extent have been hedging his bets in case XIII Corps achieved more than expected, or XXX Corps less.32 Ironically, the end result was to weaken support in the north without significant benefit in the south, where the wide front worked against counter-battery techniques.

  Horrocks had only limited resources in infantry and armour to work with and settled on using 131st Lorried Infantry Brigade to form a bridgehead for 44th Reconnaissance Regiment, equipped with carriers, to be followed by 22nd Armoured Brigade, through the January and February minefields. Meanwhile, 44th and 50th Divisions remained on the defensive. In the event of success, 4th Armoured Brigade would be available for exploitation. However, the principal objective of XIII Corps was to ensure that 21. Panzer-Division and Divisione ‘Ariete’ remained pinned for as long as possible in the south.

  Lance Corporal Laurie Phillips’ narrative of events (and the criticism it contains) encapsulates all the fundamental elements of the XIII Corps action.

  The gaps in the minefield were to be made by the sappers, covered by the carriers of the 44th Recce Regiment, with the new Scorpion flail tanks to help them lift the mines. Our Company was to go through the two left-hand gaps, and ‘A’ Company the two on the right; to form a bridgehead on the far side through which the armour could advance; the rest of the Brigade would follow. Havin
g dealt with the first minefield (January) in this way, the second (February) would be similarly penetrated. I cannot believe that this was the best way to do it. The whole of the Brigade’s vehicles were lined up nose to tail in four columns stretching from the German minefield back across no man’s land, through the gaps in our own minefield and beyond… The troops facing us were an Italian parachute division – the Folgore – a fairly tough lot. As soon as they realised where the gaps were being made, their guns, machine-guns and mortars opened up; some vehicles were set on fire, lighting up the scene like daylight and making it even easier for them. Our Company had a difficult time getting through, and when they finally got through January they had to knock out a number of machine-gun nests and anti-tank guns; they had quite a lot of casualties with the company commander and two other officers wounded, and two of the sergeants in our platoon killed – Mac Mulford and Graham Bradbury; both were regulars and both had been awarded the MM shortly before. They were first class types who instilled great confidence in those serving under them, and we were all very depressed that they had gone.33

  In the same battalion a fellow lance corporal, Douglas Waller, was not even sure of the purpose of his unit’s attack:

  I think it was classified as a diversionary or feint attack. We were up against the Italian ‘Folgore’ Division which, contrary to the general opinion of Italian troops, were really tough nuts. We got through the first minefield. We were in the gap and our portee got hit in the engine – I think it must have been a solid shot because there wasn’t a big explosion. We just heard ‘BANG’ and something hit the front of the truck and it just folded up. We were then useless because we couldn’t manhandle or drag the anti-tank gun. So we left that and spent that first night as infantry attacking strongpoints. It was very hairy because they were well dug-in. I don’t know whether it was deliberate or not in the confusion – but you would have some of them coming out to surrender and then suddenly somebody would open up and they would drop down … we suffered quite a few casualties to that.34

  Some tanks of 5th RTR and the Royal Scots Greys also got through the first minefield but attempts using the ‘Scorpion’ ‘flail’ tanks to go further were foiled by heavy fire and daylight. Captain B.E. Miles, the Royal Scots Greys’ medical officer, was in the midst of the shambles on this first night.

  Our Sappers had been unable to penetrate the second minefield so we were stuck more or less in a gap in the first where we were forced to remain as wounded kept being brought to us, instead of siting our Aid Post between the two gaps in the first minefield as planned. Our petrol and ammunition lorries were close behind us. Jerry soon pinpointed the gap and I estimated that at least 25 shells landed within 50 yards. We could do no more than spend the night digging the wounded into slits in the sandy gravel, giving them morphine and attaching the appropriate label.35

  Further to the south, Général Marie Pierre Koenig’s 1ère Brigade Française Libre also failed to make progress in the vicinity of the Himeimat promontory. Horrocks was left, finally, to decide between trying to break through the February minefield or to indulge in ‘crumbling’.36

  In the mine-clearing operations Leese’s XXX Corps was responsible for making lanes in the British minefields but, forward of this, XXX Corps and X Corps were responsible for clearing their own. In the event, the efforts of both corps went more or less to plan, although the flail-equipped ‘Scorpion’ tanks allotted to infantry divisions proved unreliable. Approximately 500 mine-detector devices were available for the attack, but on many occasions the work still depended on care, the bayonet and a sapper’s very cool nerve amidst a raging battle. Progress with the mine-detectors was about three yards a minute; without them, somewhat less. The engineers with each of the infantry divisions found the overall process much slower than expected.

  The tank lanes for X Corps were in two separate one-mile wide ‘corridors’, one for 1st and one for 10th Armoured Divisions. Furthermore, these lanes had to continue beyond the limit of the infantry advance. Gaps sixteen yards wide were made first (to allow one vehicle to pass another if the latter was destroyed). These gaps were then to be broadened to forty yards. Peter Moore recalled:

  The great thing about our drill was that I never had to issue an order. Every member knew what to do and could go on doing it in his sleep. I was therefore able to reserve my energies for when something went seriously wrong. I was able to walk over to the Ink gap where 1 Troop under Jimmy Haig and Bernard Jarvis and a very business-like section of 573 Company under a Lieutenant Smith had everything under control.37

  Moore’s unit, in the New Zealand sector, found progress so slow that he watched each gap being cleared with rising concern. Because of low enemy fire, it was sometimes necessary to operate the detectors crouching or kneeling. This slowed matters further and Moore’s attempts to contact his commander, Brigadier Gilbert McMeekan, to tell him this, failed. McMeekan’s wireless was useless, forcing him to make face-to-face confirmation with Brigadier Neville Custance that 8th Armoured Brigade could get forward.

  Conscious that time was running out before the leading units of the armoured brigades arrived, Moore recognized there was nothing for it but to press on.

  Eventually we found indications that we had reached the far side of the minefield. As Sergeant Stanton was hammering in the last of the mine markers in an eight-yard gap, I ran through the gap in a tearing hurry. There were, by my estimate, less than 20 minutes left before the dawn would break and then it would be like the 9th Lancers’ casualties south of the El Meriya [sic] Depression in the July battles.38

  The 8th Armoured Brigade’s vanguard in this sector was the Sherwood Rangers.

  We found the leading squadron of the Sherwood Rangers all ready to go and we guided the leading tank up to and through the gap as first light was coming. Almost immediately the first tank was hit. I remember six tanks deploying left and right at the end of the gap and engaging some enemy anti-tank guns with their Besas, but by this time it was getting light. It was also becoming clear that the Sherwood Rangers could not get forward. Several tanks were hit and a crash action by an RHA battery in the open could not silence the enemy anti-tank guns. I decided that I must collect our men and get them behind the ridge. Leaving a party with the unenviable task of keeping the gap marking signs in order, we withdrew behind the crest and brewed up some breakfast.39

  Moore felt that, despite their best efforts, he and his sappers had failed. They had done their part, but not in time.

  We had breached the minefields as ordered. But that first night had been just not long enough. Whether another hour would have given the armour a clear run, I don’t honestly know. The cost in sapper casualties was considerable. We had 25 in my squadron on the first night alone out of the deployed strength of about 150. We were, though, wonderfully fortunate, for of these only five were fatal.40

  This was unfair. A tremendous achievement had been accomplished under exceptionally trying circumstances. Eighth Army’s plan and timings had always been over-ambitious since even under ‘average operational conditions’ a section of Royal Engineers required two hours to clear a sixteen-yard gap to a depth of 400 yards.41

  However, the lanes cleared were narrow and did not go as far as hoped. At dawn all further attempts had to stop. The results were such that for 1st Armoured Division, only one lane had been cleared as far as the limit of the Australians’ advance and the other lanes were considerably less advanced, whilst, despite Moore’s pessimistic view, in 10th Armoured’s sector greater progress was made and four lanes reached as far as the Miteirya Ridge. Now it was the armour’s time.

  At 0200hrs tanks of 1st and 10th Armoured commenced their final approach to the battle zone – a distance of between six and nine miles. Brigadier Frank Fisher’s 2nd Armoured Brigade led Major-General Raymond Briggs’ 1st Armoured Division and reached the German front line just after 0400hrs. The advance was in three regimental groups: The Queen’s Bays (2nd Dragoon Guards) on ‘Sun’ track on the ri
ght, 9th Lancers on ‘Moon’ in the centre and 10th Hussars on ‘Star’. Scout cars of the reconnaissance troop led, followed by two tank squadrons, regimental headquarters, the third tank squadron, a battery of ‘Priest’ self-propelled guns, motorized infantry, a battery each of anti-tank and anti-aircraft guns and finally the supply vehicles. Fisher and Briggs were both on ‘Moon’ track.

  Following the tiny lights set up to mark the paths cleared through the Axis minefields, their progress gradually slowed until, as Major Anthony Wingfield remembered:

  John Brook Hunt, who was acting as a liaison officer with 1st Gordons, came ‘on the air’ to say that the Jocks were held up by an enemy strongpoint; that two of their companies were out of touch, and that they could go no further that night. The Recce Troop which was in touch with the rear of the Gordons confirmed that there was no forward movement.42

  With the tanks strung out along the tracks in the midst of an enemy minefield and with dawn breaking, Jack Archer-Shee, 10th Hussars’ commander, was faced with a difficult decision. Wingfield continued:

  To go on through the infantry into minefields which had not yet been gapped would certainly end in disaster. To remain where we were in situ strung out in single file along ‘Star’ Track in daylight would invite annihilation by 88mm anti-tank guns and enemy aircraft alike. A third course – that of dispersing in what appeared to be a minefield also seemed uninviting. Jack had just about made up his mind to press on in accordance with the original instructions when the Brigade Commander put him out of his agony by ordering the adoption of the third course.43