Rickie's War: North Africa

Over The Top!

 

Jim Chapman kept low as he went from foxhole to foxhole to deliver orders. It had been 45 minutes of constant shelling and the New Zealand Corps, in which the British 78th Division and Brighton and Hove Volunteers were attached, were just waiting for the end of the barrages. The men crouched or crawled under their fox holes, ready with their rifles in their hands. The Brighton and Hove Volunteers were an experienced unit, having fought in Africa and Sicily, with some members having fought in France and Norway in the early stages of the war.

Lance Corporal Rickie Avraams also hung low in his foxhole, Albie Fontaine being next to him. The two were used to the loud sounds of artillery barrages. At the time they were admiring the large explosions ignited from the shell’s explosions. Buildings crumbled and dust spurned from the ground with each round. Sometimes war had its absurd ways to be beautiful.

War was an inhumane thing; it is something that pits two men to blow each other’s brains out. Most of the time those two men didn’t even have anything against each other. It was a weird idea. However, thrse two men knew why they were here; they were fighting for a good cause, to fight a bad cause. The Nazi cause. Rickie had a personal vendetta against the ideology due to him being a Jewish man and Fontaine’s ancestral Belgian lands were attacked and his newly-adopted home of Britain was outrightly bombed. Queen and Country could be a reason for them to fight; but it wasn’t that big compared to their personal vendettas. Vendetta is what had brought them this far into the war.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” asked Albie.

“What is beautiful?” Rickie said.

“The shelling. The explosion.” Said Albie.

Rickie replied. “Well it is quite a sight. I haven’t seen Jerry all morning, though. Probably hiding in the cellars. When we go in there, they’ll pop up from behind and shoot us all in the back.”

“I think that’s what the Japs would do, Rickie. We’ve fought the Germans over and over and at least they would face us from the front.”

“They’re good, Albie. They won’t stop unless they’re told to. Thank God there aren’t a lot of them.”

As they spoke, Corporal Jim Chapman slid into their foxhole. “How goes the news, Jimmy?” asked Rickie.

“Well, the barrage will be over in five minutes. After that, they’ll fire a smokescreen. That’s when we’ll advance.”

“Over the top, huh?” asked Albie.

“Tanks will be on our right and we’ll advance with them. Kiwi Infantry will be on our left, and the Indians on the other side of the hill on our right.”

“They’re going up to take Hangman’s Hill?” asked Rickie. Hangman’s Hill was a heavily defended high ground. No vehicle could go up that hill, due to the lack of roads and its steepness, so it was purely man-to-man. But attacking a high ground defended by a battalion of German paratroopers and accurate artillery fire could be a deathwish.

“Apparently so.”

“That’s suicide.” Said Rickie.

“Well, Rickie, just be grateful that we aren’t the ones who are going up there.” Chapman put a hand on Rickie’s shoulder. “I’ll see you later.” Chapman then went on his feet again and went low to the next foxhole.

Rickie and Albie turned their sights back to the town in awe, where artillery shells were landing.

It was the most impressive bombing I have ever seen. I could not see the red color of explosions, but I could see the dust, the ground, the rocks, lifting up storeys into the blue spring sky. I wouldn’t want to be in the positions of the Germans at the moment, but that was all about to change. It was a couple of minutes of more bombing until it suddenly stopped. The last rounds were the most spectacular, however. Buildings were flattened with only one or two left; flat ground was cratered, and whatever was down below was crushed instantly. It would’ve been a miracle if someone survived that barrage. But of course, sometimes miracles are well-prepared, well-thought tactics.

 

Soon after, the barrage ended. The cannons then fired again, this time firing smoke rounds that landed just a couple hundred meters in front of them. Captain Charlton waited for the orders from the ones above him. The orders were marked when the battalion commander sent down a message to his radio, in which he would then blow a whistle, followed by the officers under his command. Killer Company would then get out of their holes and advance up towards the flattened town. Killer Company was ready and crisp, having nearly returned to full-strength after their antics in the Sicilian fortress of Palazzo de Barzagli. They would be in lead of this attack, with the rest of the battalion following after them. NZ soldiers will be on their right and left, accompanied by ANZAC M4 General Sherman tanks. The plan was for the tanks to roll in first with an infantry battalion as an escort (which was the B&H Volunteers itself). The rest of the infantry would come right behind the Volunteers and Tank formation, and then they would spearhead into the city, expecting little resistance after the heavy bombing.

The smoke rounds had been fired, and they were growing into a bigger cloud as Charlton waited for the orders.

Captain Charlton grew up as a son of a Scottish Peer, who now sits in the House of Lords. He grew up in Edinburgh, Scotland’s regional capital, and had wanted to become a soldier since he was a child. His hobbies were those of the privileged: horse-riding, hunting, and archery. He graduated from the Royal Military Academy at Sandhurst in 1941, about a year after Britain’s entry into the war. He was quickly deployed to North Africa along with the newly formed Brighton and Hove Volunteers. Due to his overall competence and the need to replace his superiors, he sped up the ranks; reaching captain just before attacking Sicily. In Sicily he slyly forced the surrender of a medieval castle in Palazzo de Barzagli, receiving the surrender with class by receiving the enemy commander’s sword. Having been nominated for the DSC along with a couple other men under his command, Captain Charlton will go into one of the fieriest battles in Europe yet: the battle to take Monte Cassino and to break through the main German defensive line in Italy, the Gustav Line. This would allow access to Rome and thus, liberate Northern Italy with the possibilities of entering Austria soon after.

Being in his foxhole with his Company Sergeant Major and wireless radio operator, he said out of his observations. “The Prime Minister said this was the soft underbelly of Europe.” He then turned his head to the sergeant major. “If this was the soft underbelly, I wonder how hard the belly is. What do you think of it, sergeant-major?”

The sergeant major, a burly man with small but experienced eyes, said in return. “If this was better than anything the ones invading France are going to face, I’m pretty sure our invasion of mainland Europe is a damned big failure, sir.”

“Correct, sergeant-major.”

As he spoke, the radio operator received a call. The radio operator turned to Charlton and offered the radiotelephone. “It’s Colonel Hastings, sir.”

The captain took it without hesitation and put it on his ear.

“Waterloo.” The colonel said through the phone, in which Charlton received and replied, “Roger that, sir.”

Charlton gave the phone back to the radio operator and pulled up a whistle from his pocket. “It’s been good to know you all. Sergeant-Major?”

The sergeant-major nodded to him and unshouldered his Thompson. “Sir.”

Charlton put the whistle on his mouth and blew it as hard as he could, its sound echoing through the formation of foxholes. With a pistol in one hand, he continued to hear the whistles of his minor officers, and the foxholes suddenly came to life. Soldiers, well-trained and well-armed, went out of their holes like mice looking for cheese; very quickly and very efficiently. They held their rifles in their hands, and walked towards the growing smoke. Sergeants and corporals yelled encouragements to the advancing men. The men of the B&H Volunteers could then hear the sound of tank tracks and their engines on their right. Through the smoke, the tanks could be seen in a fade. They advanced as fast as the walking men, but when they exited the smoke, they picked up speed and raced towards the town’s outer parts.

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