Strasbourg is situated on the Rhine to the East of the Vosges mountains, but this story starts to the West of the Vosges,, where for a week we had been encamped in the foothills. The main road between Strasbourg and Paris crosses the mountains through the Saverne gap where the Germans had concentrated their main defences of the approach to Strasbourg. They were in great strength on the flatter ground through which ran the Route Nationale but they had decided that the mountainous ground to the South of the road was impassable, except for the odd logging vehicle, so that area was left undefended.
Now that we were so near to the border between France and Germany the attitude of the local people was somewhat ambiguous compared with those we had already met in West Central France and Strasbourg has changed hands between France and Germany in the past and the population were not convinced of the permanence of the Allies victories, and were not prepared to show too much joy at our arrival. However there was a very well organised Resistance movement which was anxious to help, and help they certainly did.
The first evidence of this was a strange collection of characters who turned up at Divisional Headquarters. They were either on foot or on bicycles and their clothing was such that they would not have merited a second glance if seen on the road. Their reception at Headquarters soon dispelled any doubts about their importance. They were regional controllers, who were to provide the key to opening the road to Strasbourg.
The Resistance maintained that by careful choice of the woodmens' tracks and trails through the mountains they could get the entire Division round the German positions to the South of Saverne and onto the road to Strasbourg. This proposition was received with considerable doubt, but one night a jeep carrying the local commander of the Resistance and two of our officers set off to prove the point. It was proved by the officers in the jeep bringing back a notice that had been pinned to the door of the German Headquarters in the Saverne town square! The officers confessed that they had been astonished and frightened when the jeep, which was on a very rough track suddenly turned left and they found themselves in the main square. The Resistance man carefully parked outside German Headquarters, got out and unpinned the notice. He then handed it to the officers and asked if that was proof enough. Of course, getting a jeep to Saverne was not quite the same as getting several hundred tanks, self-propelled guns and all the other paraphernalia that goes with an armoured division. However, for most of the next few weeks the engineers were out every night reinforcing bridges, widening roads and even putting up signposts where required. Still the Germans remained in ignorance, and later when I, myself, walked into the German Headquarters in Saverne the General commanding all the German forces in the area was just being hauled from his bed to confront our Colonel. The Colonel was seated at the General's desk smoking a cigarette and the General, still in pyjamas was asking plaintively to be allowed to wear his hat (presumably the correct attire when you are going to surrender.)
The drive from our camp in the West to the town square in Saverne had taken two days. It was very tiring, at times very frightening and completely non-stop. I only saw one bridge that had collapsed but several others were very rickety. The one that had failed now consisted of just two long steel girders that had to be adjusted to the width of each vehicle. Crossing over a gorge several hundred feet deep in such circumstances required concentration, but out of the corner of my eye I did glimpse the upturned tracks of one Sherman far below.
Before we arrived at the town we were split into our small units. The Colonel was in our lead tank and my ambulance was not far behind, hence my presence in the German Headquarters just in time to see the unhappy General asking for his hat.
An A.D.C. was standing at each side of the General's chair and I recognised them as German-speaking officers. When the 'phone rang one of them picked it up and shouted in German. I was later told that he said "The Americans are here and charging down the Route Nationale." He then pulled the wire from the wall!
This seemed an odd thing to say and do but the Colonel immediately saw the point and started issuing orders that boiled down to "All get going fast down the old road." The old road took a less direct route to Strasbourg over the high ground to the left of the Route Nationale.
We had been going for about half-an-hour when we saw the German armour emerge from the outskirts of the city. They moved fairly slowly, that being the great weakness of their armour, in search of the non-existent Americans, while we pressed on towards Strasbourg on the old road.
We passed to the north of the City towards the bridge over the Rhine. It would have been an additional triumph for our small unit if we could have captured this bridge, but although two of our tanks got across, the bridge was blown up behind them. I had earlier left the tanks to deal with the casualties from a minor skirmish, and when I tried to catch them up I was stopped by an artillery man controlling the road. I asked what had happened and he pointed to the two solitary Shermans standing forlornly on the other bank "We are just going to destroy those two. Their crews and the rest of your lot are heading for the City." I never learnt exactly how the two crews got back but when I asked Chef Larreur he just said "Its not only the English who can swim." It was said with a broad grin and much tapping of the nose, so I suspect the Resistance people were involved and the message was "The less said the better."
The rendezvous place in the City was the main square, and we had been supplied with a rough town map. I was negotiating a very narrow street with overhanging buildings each side when I saw, to my dismay, a Panther entering at the other end. It came grinding steadily towards me but I then saw with relief that its main gun was pointing down and to the left, with the turret machine-gun pointing skyward - the classic surrender positions. The tank commander then poked his head up through the turret hatch and inched his tank as far to the left as possible, just allowing me to scrape by. I called thanks to him and received a "You're welcome" response in perfect English. We might have been two holiday-makers in an English town.
I turned into the main square just in time to witness the surrender of the City. There then followed, for the next few days, a worrying but entertaining period. An armoured division, with few infantry, is not the ideal unit to receive the surrender of several infantry divisions distributed over a large area, including the nearby forts of the Maginot Line.
The German armoured units that had chased up the Route Nationale looking for the non-existent Americans had become disorganised and had been practically eliminated by the time of the surrender. The disarming of the enemy infantry was quite another matter. In fact it was not done until the Americans did finally arrive. The fear was that some of these divisions, still good fighting units, would ignore the surrender and cause problems.
Leclerc's method of dealing with this situation was to try to give the impression that there were many more divisions under his command than just the French 2nd Armoured. To this end everyone was encouraged to rush around, keeping the streets filled with armoured vehicles and truck loads of infantry. Our British uniforms were perfect for this strategy. Chef Larreur asked me if I thought it would be offending my principles to put on an act as a Senior British Medical Officer and go round inspecting hospitals. My principles were getting a little worn by then and I agreed to join in what become a glorious charade, To begin with I was to use a jeep, but by the time I inspected the first hospital I was being driven in a large staff car, with a German speaking French officer as my A.D.C. I was told to try to look imposing, but imposing is one thing I really am not! I did wear my best battle-dress which was very clearly British, and carried an English tin hat on my back. My A.D.C. was fortunately slightly smaller than me which helped, but as the heir to the best known vineyards in Burgundy, he had a lifetime of looking imposing. However, he was also a consummate actor and I felt I could not go wrong as he rushed to open doors well ahead of me, so that I could stroll through looking down my nose at everyone in sight.
The hospitals were either staffed by nuns, or by German army nurses. The former ignored us and as for the latter, I can only say that they looked like concentration camp rejects, because they were too fearsome and I am only thankful that I never fell into their hands.
My A.D.C. and I had a splendid day. I lost count of the number of hospitals at which we put on our act. We had agreed that we should insist on inspecting each ward, but accept no hospitality. It was easier to remain aloof and to tramp round giving, we hoped, the right impression.
This uneasy situation remained until, on the fifth day, the American infantry started to stream out of the woods that covered the lower slopes of the Vosges. An American Lieutenant asked who the hell I was and why I was driving an American ambulance. I explained that we were waiting for his lot to take over the arduous task of disarming about three German divisions that were scattered about the place. Then I hurried back to base where, perhaps we could all relax at last.