Wartime News

Vol 13. 1st Edition

February 2008

© Wartime News

Guards Repel Panzers at Shiba Valley

by John Elliot

Fred Drury and I met at the Guards Training Depot at Caterham in September 1940. After a period of training we transferred to Pirbright Camp in Surrey. Then, after ten weeks of fieldwork, we left for Regents Park Barracks in London carrying out ceremonial duties at Buckingham, Kensington and St James Palaces. We later manned a PoW Camp in Barnett and took on guard duties at Greenford. Then followed more official duties before a period at RAF Northolt. From Regents Park barracks, Fred and I were sent to Eastcote in North-West London to join the newly formed 6th Battalion. From Eastcote, Fred and I were suddenly moved to Gourock, on the Clyde, boarding the luxury liner, Regina-del-Pacifico, leaving on the 27th November 1942 arriving at Algiers on the 6th December 1942. After two or three hours, Fred and I along with a score of Guardsmen set off by foot for a march of ten miles to Fort-de-l’Eau along the coast where we stayed until 14 January.
We left Algiers by rail in a cattle truck to join our battalion which was some 450 miles away. It was a spectacular journey and after a 5-day ride through breathtaking scenery, we arrived at Coldstream Farm, Medjez-el-Bab, where the battalion was resting after a spell at the front line. We left the farm on the 20th for the front which proved to be a working day of 24 hours, with shells, bullets, tanks, booby mines, Stukas and Me109s, accompanied by rain, gales and all the bewilderments associated with them. Our sleep? Catnapping for ten weeks!
The rest of January was spent under continuous fire, but on 6 February, we moved to Robaa - the ‘Sunshine Valley’. We were supposed to have been picked up by TCVs (troop carrying vehicles), but for some unknown reason we marched all night in torrential rain. We made frequent stops to adjust our compass bearings, but the rain, plus the pitch blackness, made this march the most frustrating I’d ever been on. Being informed that a 50 mile march was a possibility had a soothing effect on our irritability. Monty’s insistence of having his troops ‘put in the picture’ was not evident here!
At last we halted in a deep gully and were told to sleep until daybreak. We were all in a wretched state. I collapsed where I stood and, like the rest of the platoon, was soon asleep. At dawn the rain clouds had disappeared and I had a wash in a nearby muddy river. Later that morning we were informed that higher command had information that the Germans were about to commence a major offensive in this area. Patrols and other sources had reported large concentrations of enemy tanks and guns. ‘Plans had been made’ to meet this threat and the codeword ‘Tomato’ would be used to bring us to an immediate state of readiness to repulse this anxiously awaited attack.
We set off on the 8th, this time in our TCVs for a mountainous area near Robaa. This ten-hour journey was most alarming as at times we leaned over to dangerous angles. We seemed to spend most of our time digging the vehicles out of deep muddy ruts - oh, and it was raining again. We finally debussed and made our way up a mountain feature about 4,000 ft above sea level. On reaching a rock-strewn valley, we halted and were allocated one of its steep sides, our section commanding the highest point.
For the next ten days, we experienced the most savage weather thrown at us. It made this god-forsaken valley an ordeal never to be forgotten. Bobby Hyde asked my pal Jeff and I to climb to the highest point to look for possible German movements. The climb to the top was hazardous, but we eventually reached it. Just below the peak of a mountain immediately to our front, we could make out a Beau Geste type fort which dominated most of the valley behind it. I observed this fort for some time, but could see no sign of life. To our right was a flat piece of ground, sparsely covered with six foot tall trees. I’d been using two of these trees as reference points through my Zeiss binoculars which I had borrowed indirectly from a German. Watching these trees, I noticed that one of them was moving very slowly. Hardly believing my eyes, I became aware of a human form at its base. Handing the binoculars to Jeff, he became as perplexed as I about the meaning of it. On returning to our company, we discovered a number of French Colonial Goums that were attached to us, two of whom had been patrolling the area we had just left. These Goums were Atlas Mountain tribes and were used by the French for mountain warfare in which they had few equals. We actually found them very friendly.
About midday on the 17th, we received the codeword ‘Tomato’. The Germans had attacked the Americans in the Fiad Pass and Gafsa. This was 100 miles south of our rain-soaked valley where we were blissfully unaware that we were being conned. The guns and tanks of the enemy in this area were dummies! For some reason best known to himself, the American General Fredendall had positioned his HQ 60 miles behind the front line in a valley and relied on the radio to communicate with his Divisional Commanders. It seemed he had his dislikes in command and any plans he did have resulted in certain disaster at Kasserine.
Our battalion left the Robaa area in our TCVs on the 17th, arriving at the Aroura Wadi in the Sbiba Valley at 4.00 am the next morning. As we moved into the valley, the Americans were pulling out. I distinctly remember a very indignant ‘Jos’ Marsden pointing to our front and shouting at the poor bewildered Yanks, “the bloody Germans are this way”. This remark clearly emphasises my theory that the poor footslogger bears the brunt of higher commands’ incompetence!
General Fredendall eventually returned to America and received a ‘hero’s welcome’! George Patton gratefully accepted the task of licking this force into shape by using good old fashioned Army discipline and common sense.
After breakfast on the 18th, I climbed to the top of our ridge to our front. From here I could see that the ground was flat for a mile to another ridge through which the Le Kef to Sbeitla road ran to my right. Between the wadi and the ridge, four 25 pounders of the Royal Horse Artillery were digging in. To my left, on the other side of the road, the American 18th Combat Team (our battalion’s Longstop Hill allies) had already dug in. On the right flank of our position, the 3rd Grenadier Guards had also dug in. Finally, behind us, below the crest of the wadi’s bank, a troop of recently arrived Churchill tanks. This was their first action. I had never seen a 25 pounder gun close up before. I then wandered over to where the RHA had just about completed their digging in and was informed by a Sergeant that he’d been told 20 minutes earlier that the Germans were just 20 miles away. With this ‘Blue Pidgeon’, I hurried back to my section. Although we lacked tank, apart from the untried Churchills, and anti-tank power, I felt that the enemy was in for a bloody nose when he attacked us in these well dug-in positions. His move through this valley had been guessed rightly by General Anderson, the British 1st Army Commander. It was the obvious route to take to try to split the US and British forces.
The next day, 19 February, at 7.30 am the sheer blissfulness of having taken off my boots and socks was rudely shattered by the sudden and violent crashes of the nearby 25 pounders. ‘Dutch’ looked at me and yelled, “He’s here this bloody time!”. A thick early mist had given the 21st Panzer Division excellent cover as they moved across the mile-long plain in front of us. By some act of God, the mist lifted when they were barely half way. They were now in an ideal killing ground situation. Carrying my boots and socks, I hobbled to the top of our ridge. From here I could see a number of German tanks - I stopped counting after twenty - and supporting infantry advancing towards us. I could hear the excited, though precise, words of command by the 25 pounder gunners. Their remarkable team work had me spellbound. Shell after shell was rammed into the breach-block, fired, then ejected. I cannot speak too highly of British gunners. They came to my rescue on many occasions in Tunisia and Italy.
The Churchill tanks then opened up behind us with their six pounders, as did our battalion with their antiquated two pounders. Shells whined, hissed and exploded around us. Bullets whispered over our heads from both directions. From well behind us, American ‘Long Toms’ opened up with 7" shells. Their first salvo fell on 14 Platoon positions, killing a Guardsman who had the same name as me. Many thought that I had been killed. The ‘Long Toms’ quickly adjusted the range and along with the guns of the RHA, Churchills and others, soon had several Panzers on fire. Suddenly one of the Churchills behind us was badly hit, severely wounding the driver in the legs. Cpl Spencer and I went to his assistance after his mates had pulled him clear. He died shortly later.
From my trench, I then saw a British Valentine to my right firing from an Arab mud house at one of the attacking Panzers. The muzzle flash of its gun was followed by the shuddering stop of a Panzer - a sure sign of a fatal hit. The attacking tanks and infantry suffered heavily until eventually they had to withdraw. A Panzer Division, however, is not easily deterred and by 2.00 pm they launched another determined attack. But, once again, Allied gun power proved too much and, for the second time, they had to withdraw. The biter had been bitten.
All that day and following night, German tanks blazed and shook as shells inside them exploded. Royal Engineers went out in the early darkness to blow up disabled tanks. These burning coffins lit up the night sky.
The battle continued through the early hours and we quickly took up firing positions. We opened up on a solitary German running up the ridge in front of us. He stumbled short, picked himself up and disappeared over the ridge. All of our tanks were now going hell for leather towards the ridge. To my amazement, they rattled to the top, stopped, and were silhouetted against the skyline, against all military orders that said, “never stand on a skyline”. Horrified, I watched as all four were hit and set on fire. We then turned our attention to the many heads bobbing up and down on the ridge’s crest. Our rapid rate of fire quickly convinced them to keep their heads down.
Our patrol had been given a 2" mortar crew to increase our firepower and as I was carrying a cumbersome container of six 2" shells, I became rather anxious to get rid of them. Knowing that we had an excellent target of Germans on the ridge, I asked the Corporal in charge to have a shoot. He refused, saying that if he fired they’d retaliate. I was speechless, so I was saddled with these mortars for a while longer. A tank was seen coming from our positions at a fair speed with Bobby Hyde on it, who yanked us on board. During the ride back to our positions, I looked back several times at the tank we had come out on. It was blazing fiercely on the ridge crest. Only three tanks had survived this action, one badly damaged. Seven tank crew and one Guardsman were lost, with ten wounded. On reaching our company we were all given a large whisky, I would have thought we should have been given it before we went out! We lived to fight another day!

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