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Part Five – The Last Campaign

Chapter 17 – The Floodbanked Rivers

The campaign in the mountains was over. The enemy still clung to Monte Grande and a few similar strongholds, but his forces had been backed against the escarpment above the plains and could be ejected at any time. From assaults on rounded ridges, from the storming of precipitous summits, from infiltration along valleys and ravines, from the forcing of brawling streams, the Indian Divisions now turned to another sort of warfare.

The Emilian plain beyond the Apennines was by no means a strategical and tactical paradise. This low land in centuries past had formed a great marsh. When the snows melted on the Apennines each spring immense torrents poured down through clefts in the foothills, seeking the Adriatic. This spate spread across the plain, engulfing large areas. As the countryside became populated it was found possible to contain these seasonal floods by raising the river banks with ramparts of earth. The turbid water moved sluggishly to the sea, tending to silt rather than to erode. No deep channels were cut, and the levels of the river rose rather than fell. To confine the spring freshets the banks were built higher and higher, until to-day the line of each river is marked by great dykes standing above the plain.

These floodbanks are military works of first importance. They transform each river into five successive obstacles-the fortifications of two outer banks, of two inner banks, and the river itself. The soft ramparts lend themselves to burrowing, so that these high mounds may be converted into elaborate fortifications. When the threat to the Gothic Line became imminent, the German military labour organization swung into action. The floodbanks were scooped out, and underground accommodation provided for substantial garrisons. Longitudinal tunnels were built and revetted with stout timbers. Leading off these galleries, vertical and horizontal shafts opened on to the sides of the flood banks like portholes in a ship. From these portholes protruded the ugly muzzles of scores of guns. The plain was usually so flat that a weapon pit only a few feet above its level would command the approach for hundreds of yards. The lazy meanders of the river made the successive posts mutually supporting, and allowed them to sweep a wide front with converging and enfilade fire.

A river line was a fixed zone of defence. Being without outworks attacking forces were kept at a distance by means of belts of wire and aprons of mines. The near floodbank was breached in places, with a

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view to flooding the approaches when necessary. All bridges were destroyed; the garrisons of the near bank crossed on foot bridges which when not in use were swung back against the far bank. The northern floodbank for some inexplicable reason was usually slightly higher than the south bank. These few extra inches improved the observation of the defenders.

Other factors complicated the problem of attack. The narrow dykes offered a meagre target for artillery, and even less target for bombs. Without bridging they were impassable for tanks or vehicles, and bridges could only be built on the site of former bridges, since the slopes of the banks were too steep for tracks or wheels to surmount without approach ramps. Thus to reach these floodbanks with mechanized arms presented a problem of extreme difficulty; to storm them, a grim task indeed.

Every device breeds its anti-device. Not only the Germans but the United Nations had given a lot of thought to floodbanked rivers. The problem of attack was threefold – to approach, to effect a lodgment, and to cross. It was obvious that the approach must be made in small numbers, as anything resembling a massed assault would incur sufficient casualties to weaken the assailants, and so endanger the second stage of the operation. On the other hand, there was no assurance that isolated posts and small detachments when established on the near floodbank would be able to bring the river line under sufficient control to effect a crossing. Basic tactics therefore had to be determined by the empirical method of trial and error. It speaks volumes for the resource of Eighth Army planners that after a few weeks of experiment the problem of approach had been solved. Artillery was deployed in such fashion as to cast shells within a few yards of the men whom the guns supported; it became possible to bombard the inner slopes of a floodbank without undue risk to troops dug in ten yards away on its outer bank. Supplementing the artillery, the weapon of fire was enlisted. Crocodiles and Wasps, fire-throwing vehicles great and small, and Lifebuoys (manual flame-throwers) were mobilized to burn out the warrens of the defenders. While billows of blazing oil smothered the banks, jets of flame would be injected into the portholes, rendering the tunnels uninhabitable and driving the garrison into the open.

For crossing these narrow high-banked rivers the sappers devised an ingenious variation on the “Ark” bridge. Instead of a full span the bridge was little longer than the tank. With the tank resting in the river bed the span could be lifted hydraulically and placed in position. Should the river be deep, the superstructure was so designed that if the bottom “Ark” carrier was submerged, a second tank complete with bridge could drive on to the top of the sunken vehicles and so construct a crossing two tanks deep. Other ingenious equipment

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included new and strong types of aerial cableways, on which not only men but guns and vehicles could be slung rapidly across the narrow troughs of the rivers.

A battle group organized for assault on flood-banked rivers incorporated a wide range of specialist formations. Armour was important, because the high dykes gave considerable cover to tanks closing up in close support of the infantry. Anti-tank guns, particularly of the self-propelled variety, were of value for sniping into port-holes and for reducing enemy posts on the near bank. Machine-gun companies firing from flank could hold the floodbank under a lash of steel until the infantry had closed to within a few yards. Flame-throwers would lead the way, with Kangaroo armoured troop carriers in close support. Special assault companies of sappers would move forward with the infantry, and would begin work on crossings while the battle raged about them.

Yet in spite of all technical assistance and mechanical device, the issue remained between man and man. Had the enemy been able to oppose the Allied advance with troops of commensurate courage and endurance, the strength of his fortifications might have decided the day. Fortunately the German divisions which manned the flood-banked rivers had been mauled and battered for month after month, thrust headlong from position after position. The cream of the German armies had been destroyed. No troops could endure such punishment without realization of the futility of fighting on. A rising proportion of German troops were no longer battle-worthy. Disillusion had reacted on the relationships of officers and men until a slow but incurable depression clouded all but the most fanatical minds. Its recurrent motif was that no battle lost or no battle won could affect the final result. The Germans continued to fight, but they fought as doomed men.

Their adversaries of the United Nations moved from strength to strength. The front had been broken in Normandy, and seven armies were thrusting into the vitals of Germany. The Russian avalanche rolled remorselessly towards the Reich. In Europe the end drew near; in the Pacific the ring closed around Japan. In Italy, despite all hardships and dangers a dominant thought rang like a bell in soldiers’ minds. “We too shall be in at the kill.”

This collection transcribed by Chris Gage
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