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Home , Sloedam, Walcheren, Western Scheldt

Causeway. The Battle for the was a military operation in the north of and the southwest of the at the end of World War II. This battle was the largest operation on Dutch territory in WW II. Although much has been written about these battles, it turned out to be a relatively unknown action for many. In particular the great importance of the Canadian troops in these crucial battles, aimed at making the port of accessible again. In this column we take a closer look at one specific operation. The commemoration is annually on the agenda of the Royal Canadian Legion Branch 005, the Liberation of the Netherlands. The Walcheren Causeway. A Battle Honour granted to the participating Canadians units. In other words: the "senseless slaughter on that damn dam", as this action is called in the book "Canadians in action" by Hen Bollen and Paul Vroemen. Why am I re-naming this phase of the liberation? I came across this in my search for Canadians who had been awarded the Military Order of William. In the last edition of 2020, I paid attention to a posthumous award of it, but there were also soldiers who survived the war and received the highest Dutch military decoration. One of them: Lieutenant John Ch. B. Forbes of the Régiment de Maisonneuve. He had documented his personal experiences in an article "Le pont maudit". When I entered his name in Google, I came across the "Historical Yearbook 1986" of the Local History Foundation De Bevelanden. It referred to a translation of "the personal experiences" of Lieutenant Forbes which had been translated from French by B.P. Burkunk. (Burkunk himself has been awarded the Bronze Lion-hs) Reading Forbes' story and attending commemorations, I realized that there is a story behind every tombstone, but also every survivor of WWII has a history too. The background story for the 2020-12 edition was the column of Joseph William Campbell, composed from data collected by third parties. John Ch. B. Forbes 1985 Lieutenant Forbes however, has personally recorded his experiences, giving us a "glimpse into the hell of the war" at first hand. Reading his report I thought: THIS SHOULD NEVER BE FORGOTTEN. General situation. While the conquest of North Beveland was almost complete, units of the 4th Canadian Infantry Brigade advanced through South Beveland towards the Walcheren Causeway. (Dutch: -hs). The only connection between Walcheren and the "mainland". The east side of the Causeway was cleared of German forces quite quickly by the Royal Regiment of Canada, supported by heavy mortars and artillery. 153 POW’s were taken. This completed the task of the 4th Brigade and the 5th Infantry Brigade was deployed to storm the Causeway. This last unit had been promised leave of absence in the vicinity of Antwerp, to which the men were eagerly looking forward. But first, however, the Causeway had to be conquered quick, Brigadier W.J. Megill, commander of the 5th Canadian Infantry Brigade, outlined the operation beforehand.

W.J. Megill

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The Germans had built up a powerful defence system on the Walcheren side of the Causeway. They had artillery, mortars and automatic weapons. Including the infamous Flakvierling 2.0 cm. On the western tip of the Causeway were concrete fortifications armed with heavy machine guns. A little further back a Tiger tank was dug in, equipped with the dreaded 88 mm cannon. With an antitank gun in the vicinity of the same caliber, this weapon ensured that an attack with armoured units over the Causeway, battered by enormous craters, was doomed to failure in advance. Interesting detail: on the maps of October 23, 1944, which had been provided by the Canadian Intelligence Service, the German fortifications on the east side were shown in detail, but no information Flakvierling whatsoever about the German positions on the Walcheren side. The trees, which adorned the Causeway before the war and which should have provided some much- needed cover, were no more than a few pathetic stumps. The German pioneers had thoroughly blown up the railway: the twisted rails stood out erratically against the gray sky. Also, the entire operating field had been thoroughly undermined. There were even explosives hidden under the stones. Everywhere the site was full of large holes and bomb funnels caused by recent air raids.

Walcheren Causeway with German troops, 1940

The British Air Force had repeatedly bombed the Causeway. About half the Causeway was almost destroyed over its full width. The tides of the seawater had free access into the huge crater and reached chest height. Furthermore, the German pioneers had completed the defense with barbed wire barriers equipped with booby traps.

Germans inspecting crater after bombardment

Explosives had also been used on the Walcheren-side of the Causeway. The embankment was completely destroyed and the road surface as well. Walcheren was practically "separated from the mainland". Apart from the available anti-tank weapons, this bizarre landscape would have been totally unsuitable for an attack with armoured units. The seawater in the ditches next to the Causeway never reached high enough to allow an amphibious operation. Attempts to cross the Sloe on foot would be smothered in the mud; the infantrymen would be shot as "sitting ducks". The Germans knew: the Canadians had no choice and they were prepared thoroughly for it. Anyone who managed to get through to the western end of the Causeway in spite of all this, would be confronted with a two hundred strong rearguard of true elite soldiers: paratroopers, including a great number snipers from the famous Freiherr Von der Heydte battle group.

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During the bitter fighting in the Southwest corner of Brabant, the Canadians had got to know these fighting machines all too well. Moreover, every German on Walcheren had received direct orders from Hitler to fight to ‘’the last man standing” if necessary, under punitive measures against their family at home. That damn dam: about 1,200 meters long and about 40 meters wide on top. For the men of the Royal Highland Regiment (Black Watch) of Canada, and the Régiment de Maisonneuve it would become “a hell on earth".

Report and Analysis of Lieutenant Forbes, RMWO4. Platoon commander of the 18th platoon of the Régiment de Maisonneuve. The Allied strategists had decided to attack the island in three places simultaneously: in the southwest near , in the northwest near Westkapelle and in the east at the Walcheren Causeway. The 5th Brigade of the 2nd Canadian Infantry Division was ordered to force a passage along the Causeway and form a bridgehead for the British 52nd Lowland Mountain Division, which then was to take Middelburg. Brigadier W. J. Megill, Commander of the 5th Canadian Infantry Brigade, launched the three battalions, one after the other. First up was The Black Watch of Canada from Montreal P.Q. Their assignment was to conduct reconnaissance at battalion strength to test the positions and strength of the enemy. On Tuesday, October 31, early afternoon, their C-Company set out, followed by Companies A, B and D. Their advance was preceded by the usual heavy artillery bombardment. Despite this, heavy German fire fell on the Canadians. The sound of detonating grenades joined the hellish whistling of bullets from machineguns and rifles. The vanguard suffered serious losses and made slow progress. The enemy was virtually invulnerable in its concrete positions. Around 3.30 pm The Black Watch had approached the Walcherense wall to within 70 meters. Here the enemy fire, through the intervention of Von der Heydte's "firefighters", became so intense and deadly accurate that the scouts had to remain immobile under cover. They were literally transfixed. Artillery support was desperately requested. Armored units from Fort Garry Horse were ready to intervene, but their action was canceled because of the unwieldy Sherman’s would be irrevocably stuck in the huge craters. The Germans continued to bombard the men of The Black Watch and even using flamethrowers. Around 7:30 pm, the Canadians were able to retreat to the starting positions under cover of darkness. Lieutenant J.P. Jodoin, with four men of his platoon, two of them were wounded themselves, would try to retrieve the seriously injured. They were just below the Walcheren rampart and it was impossible to reach the wounded. That is why they requested close support from the artillery. Due to coordination errors, this barrage fell short: on top of the wounded and their rescuers. Thus, the last hours of this terrible Halloween day slowly past. After the inferno came the pitch-black night, the unnatural silence, and the steady, supercooled rain that covered the weapons with a layer of ice. Because this operation turned out to be anything but favorable, we saw our departure for a well- deserved rest period in Lier near Antwerp go further and further into the wrong. At Brigade HQ, faces grew longer and longer because of these unexpected delays and the ever-increasing pressure from the top of the commanders to hurry.

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They had thought to “bounce” the Causeway – take it in a lightning move and simply overrun the confused ‘’Krauts’ (nickname for Germans-hs) and be on the way to Antwerp within an hour! Showing shameful carelessness, I would even say criminal incapacity, Brigadier Megill then put together a plan of attack of such childish silliness that was beyond any imagination! He ordered The Calgary Highlanders to initiate the second stage of operations at 00:00 on that first November with the aim of establishing a bridgehead on the Walcheren rampart on the right of the Causeway. They would be immediately followed by Le Régiment de Maisonneuve, which would capture the seawall on the left side of the Causeway. Then the British 52nd Lowland Mountain Division, which mainly consisted of Scots, would take over the formed bridgehead and push on to Middelburg and . Only then would we, Canadians, fall back on our rest garrison in Belgium. Things were pretty simple for the Brigadier: Once our task was completed (a matter of an hour at the most) we would be removed from the front. The harder we would push on, the less losses we would suffer. In that way the first officer sat philosophizing in the relatively safe place of his headquarters, a house at the southeast of the Bevelandse Wal. Thus the fate of the soldiers was decided. The Canadian soldiers, laying with muddy water in their boots and fear in their hearts on that damn Causeway. Around midnight on November 1, 1944, the B-Company of the Calgaries advanced slowly behind the Canadian artillery firewall along that narrow road with many obstacles. Halfway through, they came under highly concentrated German fire, as a result of which the 12th platoon was completely destroyed and the 10th platoon lost the commander and suffered further heavy losses. The survivors were ordered to retreat, regroup, and initiate a second attack. At daybreak the advance was resumed with the D-Company of Major McKenzie at the vanguard, keeping an eye on the seawall at the end of the Causeway. They were closely followed by the survivors of B-Company, who were to conquer a few farms around the Walcheren end of the Causeway. McKenzie was indeed able to get through to the Walcheren rampart, where he overran a fortification and fifteen POW’s were taken. Significant losses were suffered on both sides. At 9.33 am D-Company had formed a small bridgehead and the other Companies soon joined to consolidate the captured stronghold. Enemy mortar shells set the attack route on fire. The Canadians clung to every meter of conquered territory, but in the end the mighty crossfire of the defenders made any further progress impossible. The Calgaries were there in full coverage, because not an inch of open ground could escape the beams of machine gun fire and snipers, while only 600 meters had to be gained. The support fire from its own artillery failed to neutralize the stubbornly defending enemy. The shells fell mainly into the water and mud and had little effect, while the Germans let their 81 mm and 60 mm mortars do their job with deadly precision. At 4 p.m. the survivors of Company D and Company B were thrown from the bridgehead by a fierce German counter-attack. By then A-Company had already lost all officers and the Commander of C- Company was wounded for the third time. Company D and B were ordered to break fire contact and to head back to starting positions, while Company A and C were to regroup in the large crater halfway up the Causeway and had to wait for further orders. At about 9:00 pm that November 1, the orderly of my Company Commander's, Captain Camille Montpetit, came to warn us that all commanding officers should report for an "O-Group”. (a meeting conducted by a commander where orders are distributed.) I will never forget the faces of my men, dimly lit by a few candles and an oil lamp. Everyone was clean- shaven and ready to go for the leave in Belgium. I wondered what this conference could mean. Was it our turn to be chased into the hellfire of the Causeway?

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My men said among themselves: “It is out of the question that they will use us for a third attack, now that it has turned out that this is useless. Major Roberts, our Company Commander, has already left for 's-Heer Arendskerke to arrange our transport to Lier. The trucks are already waiting for us there! '' I listened to these words of encouragement and was half-reassured by them. In addition, our battalion was severely decimated. We had been in continuous action since July 5, 1944. During four months of heavy fighting between Normandy and the Scheldt, we only had two days of rest. The companies had shrunk to a third of their normal strength, and the notorious battle fatigue was gradually undermining the morale of the survivors. At our D- Company the 16th platoon of my friend Lieutenant Guy de Merlis only had twelve men, platoon 17 of Lieutenant André Garneau as well and as far as my own 18th platoon was concerned: I had just eight men at my disposal. If we added here the eight brave Belgian volunteers who fought with us in our uniform, our D-Company consisted of no more than forty men, while the organic combat strength had to be 150 men. It was well known to us war volunteers, that our Prime Minister Mackenzie King detained some 70,000 fully trained conscripts in Canada for political reasons. W.L. McKenzie King Every day we fervently hoped, but in vain, that they would finally be sent to Europe to reinforce our ranks. Every day, our volunteers fell: dead, injured, or mentally cut off without being replaced. By removing personnel from other military service lines, it was possible to slightly replenish the first-line ranks, but without taking into account sufficiently that they cannot be turned into an infantryman from one day to the next. I've seen punished people, anti-armor and anti-aircraft gunners, cooks, drivers, and all kinds of men who had been doing administrative work for four years. These folks were provided one bad day with a couple of hand grenades, cartridge holders and a Lee Enfield and were ordered to go to the front. Captain Camille Montpetit, who was to temporarily replace Major Roberts as Commander of our D-Company, told us that Commander J. Bibeau, commander of our battalion, had done everything he could, to prevent Brigadier Megill from sacrificing us Maisies, (nickname for Ie Régiment de Maisonneuve-hs) on the Causeway. After a heated discussion, on the verge of insubordination, threats and a brutal reproof followed. After all, Commander Bibeau was left with nothing but simple obedience, albeit under protest. Montpetit handed me an aerial photograph of the Causeway area and informed me that the battalion had been ordered to form a bridgehead on Walcheren. The guidelines were as follows: behind a barrage of 72 howitzers, Le Régiment de Maisonneuve had to move with the D-Company in the lead. Lt-Colonel Julien Bibeau, amidst war For our D-Company, the plan of attack was as follows: the correspondent Desjardins (left) and a local. remainder of platoon 17 was added to platoon 18, due to the Ossendrecht, October 1944 absence of the commander, Lieutenant Garneau, who was L.O.B. (L.O.B. = Left out of Battle-hs) Platoon 18 was to be the forefront. Assignment: to establish a bridgehead on the Walcherense wall to the right of the Causeway. Platoon 16 was to follow immediately and was targeted to capture the Walcheren dike to the left of the end of the Causeway.

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The staff platoon with the company commander would follow next. Once completed the mission, we should be relieved by units of The Glasgow Highlanders, part of the 52nd Lowland Mountain Division. Then, at the latest 60 minutes after H-hour, (time to start the attack-hs), we could retreat to South Beveland and leave for Lier near Antwerp. Hour-H was on All Souls Day at 4 a.m., November 2, 1944. A dense, supercooled drizzle fell on us. The soldiers constantly moved the bolts of their weapons to keep them from freezing. The sound ate our nerves. It was 3:30 am. We were in cover against a dike near our starting line. We lay so close together like frightened sheep that I could clearly feel my neighbour's racing pulse beating against my back. I kept an eye on my wristwatch with my senses tensed to the limit. This had an almost hypnotic effect on me and I felt as if I became one with the minute hand, which crawled irrevocably past the green numbers on my watch. When the time came, I ordered my men to gather around. I repeated the orders and drafted the battle order. The three of us moved up to the start line. I led the way, flanked by the Arsenault brothers, both of whom were equipped with a Brengun. Right behind me was my orderly Grégoire Goulet, who was followed by four Belgians: Roger Mathen, Roovers, Dumais and Benz, who listened to the nickname Snake. Behind this followed a second Bren group, after which the rest of Platoon 17, commanded by a sergeant, joined in a similar battle order. Finally, at some distance, Lieutenant Guy de Merlis followed with his 16th platoon. Before we left, I had warned my men, based on the aerial photograph, that after about 500 meters we would encounter that enormous crater, where we might expect troops from the Calgaries, who had regrouped there after their failed attack. Once past that crater we could only expect enemies, so we could fire at anybody that moved. According to my records, the starting line of our barrage was about 200 meters in front of the large crater. The 72 howitzers would, after having placed their fire accurate, shift their barrage about a hundred meters forward every minute (creeping barrage-hs). It was up to us infantrymen the perilous task of advancing in the "lee" of and leaning against that barrage. We moved quickly towards the starting line through the silent and dark night, despite the bad road conditions. Completely unexpected, because we had not covered more than a few hundred meters and certainly not 500 meters, a huge black hole loomed before us in the darkness. Surely that couldn't possibly be that big obstacle halfway through the Causeway! There was no one in that big hole, not a single Calgary soldier, nothing. I didn't take any chances because it was quite possible that the Calgaries had further withdrawn in view of the coming artillery barrage. I halted and the men gathered around me. I consulted my watch and saw that the barrage was about to begin. And yes, the shelling started. Behind us the horizon lit up as if a thousand spotlights were suddenly alight. With a dull rumble, we heard the gurgling and whistling of 72, 25-pounder shells swirling at lightning speed over our heads and saw the bursts coming down from a safe distance ahead in fiery red glow and black, stinking smoke. This lasted about twenty minutes, during which time it seemed impossible that even a square centimeter of the terrain could escape the steel splinters. Then finally the fire was creeping forward and we hastened to join us as soon as possible. It was as if we were in a blast furnace where gigantic melting pots 25-pounder were continuously pouring their red-hot contents over the earth.

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I could clearly see the faces of my soldiers, who moved with me grimly and without hesitation. However, they had an unhealthy tendency to get closer and closer together. My shouted order to keep more distance was apparently drowned in the turmoil, for I could not even understand my own words. With mouths wide open, to ease the painful impact of the air pressure waves on our poor eardrums, we approached the zone where our grenades landed. And there we saw an incredible thing. Human figures staggered out of the blazing furnace. They stood out clearly against the fiery backdrop of jumping grenades. I recognized in a flash that they were Calgaries! But it was too late, for the Arsenault brothers had already opened fire on the fleeing shadows. After all, were only enemies to be expected here? I saw them fall ... how horrible. Those Calgaries were survivors of a group that had gotten our own artillery shelling on top of them. And now this! I jumped in the back of the Arsenault brothers to end their shooting. They looked at me with confusion until the terrible truth also dawned on them. In a few moments we had left the Calgaries behind, for we were on the offensive after all and we had to follow the shelling as close as possible. I wondered where those Calgaries could have come from so suddenly, and soon I had the answer to this burning question for myself when we arrived at the huge crater in the middle of the Causeway. So there were two large craters! No one had pointed this out to us, nor had it been seen in that aerial photograph. That explained everything to me, although the remorse (until this day) kept gnawing at me. Crossing the deep obstacles, we had to wade through the icy water up to the chest, some got tangled in the barbed wire and struggled to break free. We had lost quite a bit of time traversing this wretched rat trap and had to make a double effort so as not to fall behind with our firewall, which was now increasingly being crossed by counterfire from the German side. Mortar shells began to fall, heightening the sinister atmosphere of the pale twilight that heralded the approaching dawn. We were suddenly caught between two fires: in front of us our own artillery and behind us that of the firing Germans. I noticed one of the Arsenaults had disappeared. Bidoche, a Belgian, lay dead at my feet. Together with Roger Mathen, I jumped into a pot hole for some cover. Now the German mortar shells fell around us. When the fire was shifted somewhat, Mathen helped me to crawl out of the hole, because we had to move forward after all. There was no point in lying down until you were slaughtered. We had not come for that. When I grabbed Roger's hand, I suddenly felt warm blood running down my left arm! Roger Mathen, the Belgian, wrote about this in his book "Memories of a soldier at the front": "When I was about to leave that mud hole where I had taken cover with Lieutenant Forbes, I grabbed his arm to help him up. I felt a warm liquid run over my hand. Snake then shouted that the lieutenant had been injured. Platoon 17 had been practically destroyed by fire and had ceased to exist. A man moved in the water right next to me. How many were we left? I called Jules, Jacques and De Merlis. I peered at the dike that loomed before me. I saw figures move and run together. Then I felt a severe shock and fell into a hole with a severe pain in my side. Finally my side and my leg started to weigh like lead and I lost consciousness ”. So far Roger Mathen. So I was also injured: a deep cut on the left wrist. I panicked, I was furious with anger, I screamed, waved my arms and chased those who were still able to do so from their cover. As if in a trance we stormed forward to the end of the Causeway. Suddenly we came across an 88 mm cannon. Two soldiers emerged from behind the armour shield with their hands in the air. One of us jumped the ‘’Krauts” to the throat like a madman, after which the couple rolled over the ground like fighting ruffs. And so we finally got what we came for: on Walcheren! I searched for that dike to the right of the Causeway, but saw nothing but water. Then we walked on in a westerly direction. Our artillery had stopped firing. German mortar fire now fell into the mud far behind us. I prepared for the worst. At any moment now we could come face to face with the enemy. And I didn't even have a bayonet at my disposal. But nothing moved.

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The road to Middelburg seemed endless with its empty foxholes and scattered fallen. A little further I saw a country road, which crossed the traffic road and then disappeared into a concrete tunnel in the embankment. Here we took up position, so that we could cover the road intersection further on. I counted my men and it turned I had eight of them left, including two Belgians. We had left with the twenty-two of us! I wondered where platoon 17 could have gone. We later experienced that the sergeant, acting as a commander, had been killed in the first minutes of the attack and that the rest of the platoon had become stuck somewhere along the way. On the other side of the traffic road, I suddenly noticed Lieutenant De Merlis, who had taken up a position in a small farm. I contacted him and he said: “I'll stay where I am, because my platoon is minimized. I only have a few men left '.' I replied: “We are nearby and keep an eye on that crossing. Didn't you notice us at all, Camille? '' Gradually daylight came and my watch told me it was 6 am. So it took us two hours to cover 1500 meters. I saw on my map that we had left our original goals about 2500 meters behind us. Would the Scots know where to find us if they came to relieve us? Would the Germans have withdrawn from their dyke positions at the Causeway? We had been promised that we would be relieved around 5:00 am. Our Company Commander was nowhere to be seen. We also had no radio at our disposal. I sent my orderly to De Merlis to ask for his opinion on our situation. De Merlis replied that he stayed where he was until he was relieved. He had previously sent his own orderly back to South Beveland with the map coordinates of his position. There was still total silence. Only in a war do such contrasts occur. One moment you cannot hear your own voice and then you can easily hear your neighbour's heart beating. The autumn rain did not stop. Through the gray morning mists I could now clearly see our original target: the sea dyke vanishingly in the distance on either side of the Causeway. So there we were: between Middelburg in the west, the Causeway in the east and who knows how many ,,Boches” (French nickname for Germans-hs) around us. We were surrounded from all sides: by the seawater, the mud flats of the Sloe and the invisible lines of the Germans. I heard that we had only taken a few POW’s when we passed the Walcheren dyke. It was now 7 a.m. and there was still no sign of the Limey’s (a nickname for British used by Commonwealth people outside the motherland-hs). Unpleasant feelings crept over me at the thought that our relievers would also have to fight their way where we would definitely be bothered by their artillery. We were all around in the water of the inundations. We only had one Brengun with a dozen cartridge holders at our disposal, we had some rifles and hand grenades. My wound had stopped bleeding and did not hurt at all. I kept looking expectantly in the direction of the dyke, where I hoped to see our relief coming at any moment. Suddenly, did I see it right? Yes, soldiers arrived there, dipping through the swampy terrain, carrying machine guns and ammunition boxes. They came our way, it couldn't be missed. They had no choice, unless they wanted to go open and uncovered over the embankment. Germans ???

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No .. Yes, they were Germans, apparently on the way back. About 75 men were struggling to trudge through the puddles in goose march. They were wearing their long winter coats and were covered with mud from head to toe. They had to pass us close, there was no other way. It was clear that they had not yet noticed us, that they had no idea who had taken position here and barred their only way back to their own lines. We had spread out noiselessly and were hidden along the dyke and among the sparse thickets along the road. I myself would signal the attack by being the first to open fire. Our machine gun was positioned just above me. I was level with ground level with my Browning at the ready. I was trembling so much that I had to lay up the gun to aim properly. And then the first German appeared barely twelve paces from our ambush. He carried an ammunition box on his back. I saw a Spandau MG 42 machine gun, a so-called Hitler-scythe. It was held by a hand, covered with a woolen glove without fingers. I opened fire and all hell broke loose. Utter panic and chaos among the surprised Germans. Arsenault emptied his Bren holders until the weapon jammed. Spandau MG 42 He swore loudly and hammered the reluctant gun with his fist. And then it was over. Wounded Germans were squirming in the water. Their cries of despair were heartbreaking. Four Germans approached me with their arms raised. One of them was horribly wounded in the face. A bullet had ripped his cheek from ear to chin and turned the head into a grinning skull. The man was bleeding like a slaughtered cow. Another threw himself on his knees, begging for survival. I asked Dumais to question him in German. The German replied that he was 42 years old and had a wife and four children. Then he gave up his name and army number, assuring him that he wouldn't let go, and asked us to spare his life. I sent Dumais with a Belgian from De Merlis' platoon and the prisoners back to South Beveland for further orders. The Germans, who had survived our ambush, had fled back to the dyke from which they had come and where they had their positions. Around 10 a.m. we were under fire from their snipers. They quickly aimed well and gave us no respite. Soon it got a bit too tricky for us. To make matters worse, an armoured vehicle rattled our way out of nowhere. With no misunderstanding! But the clouds had now broken and the ground mist cleared and suddenly our planes were there. We watched the Hawker "Typhoons" descend on the tank with deafening screeches and bombard it with their missiles and onboard weapons. The moving ,,meat grinder” was hit hard but was still able to rush the retreat with its tail between its legs. The planes disappeared as quickly as they had come. Would we have gotten out of there well? But the bullets kept whistling around our ears from the embankments and we had to constantly change cover to minimize the chance of hits. There were wounded at De Merlis. His position was even worse than ours, as a 20 mm gun from close range was in the process of blasting their farmhouse. Fortunately, Private Carrière's extraordinary courage saved the situation. Armed with a PIAT (portable anti-tank weapon-hs), he sneaked through water and reed and approached the gun emplacement from the back. He managed to eliminate the gun including the personnel, allowing De Merlis to breathe more freely. It looked like the Scots would not come to relieve us at all. PIAT Dumais, completely out of breath and covered in mud, invaded our position. He reported that the "other side" had given orders to give up our positions and fall back to South Beveland. As if it were on an exercise in field service! It was now 2.45 pm. Fortier was hit and collapsed right next to me. I tried to hold his head above the shallow water. He lost a lot of blood and soon passed out. De Merlis shouted he was taking off. I was left alone and heard groans in the reeds nearby. I saw something move there.

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A wounded German grabbed my hand. He had sunk deep in the filthy, soft mud slush. I pulled as hard as possible but the man remained stuck immovably. Hopeless! I let go of him and scrambled up the sloping side of the rampart. Carrière joined me and together we ran towards the Causeway. Panting and with a pounding heart, we did indeed come close to the Causeway, that narrow lifeline to our own lines. Bullets hit all around and we heard the furious hammering of the Spandau machine guns. We threw ourselves to the ground and tried to crawl into the earth. Carrière showed his right hand, which had been pierced by a bullet. Ouelette, who was ahead of us, stumbled, hit in the heel. Nevertheless, he kept limping like a tipsy deer. Somehow, falling and getting up again, we managed to get to the Causeway. At a large grenade funnel, which was not there when we passed it earlier, we suddenly encountered our own troops. There were finally those Scots! About twenty men from the Glasgow Highlanders, who had also suffered some losses on their way here. They were accompanied by Lieutenant Innes, observer of the 5th Canadian Artillery Regiment. Again we were under heavy machine gun fire, so that we had to lie motionless in cover again, waiting for the bullet that would finally bear our name. The blasts of fire passed right over us and it was a good thing that those rotten machine guns had to be reloaded from time to time and the glowing barrels changed. I asked Lt. Innes if he could ask our artillery for smoke cover. We were served immediately, the phosphorus pots were flying through the air. One of those projectiles landed on top of a Scotsman, who lay convulsively with a crushed skull. Our cover hole was filled with acrid smoke and left us no choice. I burst out of the crater, coughing and spitting, with the only one left of my men: the soldier Talbot. We stumbled across the Causeway until we were completely out of breath. Then a heavy projectile exploded right behind us, throwing us violently against the boulders. Talbot could not get up again, a shrapnel had hit him in the back. I managed to drag him to the dubious shelter of a nearby foxhole and decided to wait here for darkness. Again that unreal silence set in without the slightest sound, the slightest movement. The damn Causeway seemed to be at the end of her rope too. I looked after Talbot as best I could and used up all our emergency bandages. The darkness came over us like a pleasant protective blanket. It was 7:00 PM. I had some rations left and wanted to get Talbot to eat. He refused and groaned: “When I think about food I will throw up. I believe there is still some movement in my right leg. Maybe I can walk. Let's get out of here, because I don't like dying in that stink mess here”. We set off with difficulty. Although I was on the verge of being exhausted myself, I supported my man as best I could. When we finally left that wretched big crater with all that water, that barbed wire and those booby traps behind us, we finally returned to where we had left that morning: sixteen terrible hours late. Brigadier Russell of the 157th Scottish Infantry Brigade had refused to send more than one platoon of his men up the Causeway. It was even said that Major-General Hakewill Smith, Commander of the 52nd Lowland Mountain Division, had initially refused to obey when the Canadian Army Corps commander, Major-General Foulkes ordered him to continue the frontal assaults across the Causeway. The 52nd Lowland Division would have another Commander within 24 hours if the Corps orders were not carried out! (That’s an order! Did not only apply to the Germans-hs) The nightmare was over for the three battalions of the 5th Canadian Infantry Brigade, except for the wounded who had a long battle ahead in their hospital beds. Sir Edmund Hakewell Smith

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The Black Watch of Canada, The Calgary Highlanders and Le Régiment de Maisonneuve had fought for 53 hours, leaving 135 dead and wounded on the "damn Causeway". They had been slaughtered in vain as a result of blind military mismanagement and an absurd sequence of gross incompetence, naive ignorance and. . . . inhuman numbness. What a terrible example of the price war can demand when incapable commanders are in control.

One wonders whether this job could not have been done better and completely differently. The Scots of the 52nd Lowland Division showed that it was indeed possible. They crossed the Sloe via a ford at Nieuwdorp, at a distance of 4 kilometers from the Causeway and eliminated the entire German defense around the Causeway from the flank. This fordable place across the mud flats near the Kraaijert was repeatedly pointed out by the resistance, through the unforgettable Pieter Kloosterman from Nisse. This great resistance leader had warned not only the Scots, but also the Staff of our battalions - on presentation of clear German staff maps that had been stolen from the Germans – NOT TO ATTACK FRONTAL over the Causeway. It was recommended to use the wide strip of hard clay soil that crossed the Sloe Piet Kloosterman at Nieuwdorp like an invisible bridge. Only the Scots followed this advice, Photo family archives though they later made it appear as if they had discovered the passage themselves using aerial reconnaissance. Aerial reconnaissance at a time when even the all-weather Typhoons could not take off due to poor visibility. Walcheren was largely under water and, after our occupation of South and North Beveland, was completely cut off from the mainland. One could have simply waited until the Germans finally had to surrender, at least as far as the area between Middelburg and the Causeway was concerned. The coastal batteries of Walcheren were ultimately the main target, because this heavy artillery controlled the entrance to the and thus the passage to the vital ports of Antwerp. Therefore, eliminating this obstacles and occupying the coastal strip along the Western Scheldt could have been sufficient. By November 6, the Allies had captured all guns and silenced them forever. Shortly afterwards, the German commander, General Wilhelm Daser, realized that further resistance, especially for overcrowded Middelburg, would only lead to further, unnecessary bloodshed. He was bluffed by a small Scottish reconnaissance group, who had come from Vlissingen to Middelburg in amphibious vehicles. This was instigated by the brave Middelburg medicine, doctor Nauta, who had paddled to Vlissingen in a small canoe to report that the German headquarters in Middelburg was inclined to a non-violent surrender. General Daser The Canadians had proved with their blood that - even with an overwhelming number of men and material - it was not possible to establish bridgeheads with acceptable losses if the attack had to pass over a bare, impassable dyke of 1,200 meters in length. That is why the attack on the Walcheren Causeway, after the disastrous reconnaissance experiences of The Black Watch of Canada, should have been stopped immediately. Based on my own experiences and the truthful description of these fateful operations in "Tug of War", I have told my story of this nameless battle to my comrades, the current young platoon commanders, who, as a General, may have to make responsible decisions under similar circumstances. take.

Lieutenant Charles Forbes, RMWO4 Translation: B.P. Burkunk BL A famous quote from Forbes is: "War is the ransom that humanity has to pay for its stupidity."

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Jean-Charles “Charly” Forbes was born on 19 March 1921 in Matane, Québec. He went to high school in Victoriaville, where a priest encouraged his interest in the military. Charly attended the Royal Military College of Canada in Kingston, Ontario where he completed a Bachelor of Military Science degree between 1939 and 1941.

Charly enlisted for active service in November 1941 as an artillery officer. He quickly became interested in “Battle Drill”, an innovative way to train soldiers in basic infantry tactics. Charly taught Battle Drill at army training centres in Brockville and Valcartier before embarking for England in December 1942.

In England, Lieutenant Forbes joined Le Régiment de Maisonneuve, a battalion with 2nd Canadian Infantry Division. He and his unit landed in Normandy in early July 1944. Charly led his platoon through the bloody battles for Verrières Ridge and the drive from Caen to Falaise in August 1944.

Lieutenant Forbes distincted himself during the in October 1944. Charly’s leadership and daring in charging two enemy strong-points ensured that his company reached its objective on time. For this action, the Dutch government awarded Charly the Military Order of William, Knight 4th Class, one of the country’s highest awards for bravery on the battlefield.

Charly’s war ended when he was wounded near Groesbeek, Holland in December 1944. He married in September 1945 and demobilized in November. Charly worked at the family timber mill but re-enlisted when it went bankrupt. He commanded a mortar platoon in the Korean War with the 2nd Battalion, Royal 22ᵉ Régiment.

Charly retired from the army in 1965 at the rank of major. He remained active in the military community as an Honourary Lieutenant-Colonel with Le Régiment de Maisonneuve. Charly also found more time for his talents as a painter and violinist, and his wife, Nicole, and two sons.

The French government awarded Lieutenant-Colonel Jean-Charles Forbes the Legion of Honour in 2007. He passed away on 19 May 2010 at Beaupré, Quebec.

WAR CONTEXT

Herman Sligman

Sources: Local History Foundation ,,De Bevelanden ,,Historical Yearbook 1986” Wikipedia Book ‘’Canadezen in actie” by Bollen and Vroemen (NL) Canadiansoldiers.com Definingmomentscanada.ca

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