Captain Stephen Perry, who has died aged 90, was awarded an MC in Normandy in 1944, vividly recording his experience of battle in his pocket diary.
Captain Stephen Perry
On August 4 that year Perry — a troop commander serving with 86th (Hertfordshire Yeomanry) Field Regiment RA (86 HY) — was at Jurques, south-west of Villers Bocage. The regiment was equipped with self-propelled guns (SPs), 25-pounders mounted on a tank chassis.
Despite his CO’s objections, his regiment’s 24 SPs had been ordered to deploy on a forward slope overlooked by a long ridge 2,000 yards to their front. “The inevitable happened,” wrote Perry. “We were heavily shelled by 105mm artillery, but we managed to take cover in a sunken road. Then I took a dekko through my glasses and there was the flash! It was a tank — probably a Tiger – just below the skyline. I grabbed the first three chaps I could see and we jumped into an SP ... but [the Tiger] spotted us and a ding-dong battle began, round for round.
“After the 11th round, a cloud of smoke came up from the Tiger. Then we got in [another] half a dozen rounds before he waddled off pouring smoke from his turret.” Perry’s courage in a critical situation was recognised by the award of an MC.
Stephen Denys Perry was born on February 4 1920 at Bedford and educated at Tonbridge. He was commissioned into the Royal Artillery and posted to 86 HY. The regiment remained in England until D-Day. A staff officer told his CO that his superiors were expecting 90 per cent casualties.
On June 5 Perry embarked at Southampton. At three o’clock the following morning he was awakened and packed his haversack — maps, protractors, water bottle, gas mask, gas cape and rations. He lamented the loss of his blue silk pyjamas, “which would have to be left behind for some merchant seaman, blast him!”
Just before six, still seven miles from Gold Beach, the Landing Crafts (Mechanised) were lowered, and Perry realised for the first time how rough the sea was. Aircraft were roaring overhead to drop their bombs on the pillboxes and gun casemates but, to his relief, the Luftwaffe did not appear.
Salvos from the destroyers sent up great sheets of flame in the half light as their shells hurtled towards the shore batteries.
Soon most of them felt seasick and would rather risk the German bullets than stand any more buffeting by the waves. At seven, the 24 guns of the regiment opened up from their Landing Craft (Artillery) and pounded the defences at Ver-Sur-Mer and La Rivière. Shells from the Germans sent up huge spouts of water close to Perry.
An hour later their craft grounded on Gold Beach and the doors went down. The water was waist-high. Shells were falling, spandaus were rattling from the seawall. To their right another landing craft exploded.
After the sappers had cut through the barbed wire and taped routes through the minefields, Perry and his troop pushed on towards Creully, surviving encounters with snipers and a pair of 88mm guns. At 3pm, after he had bolted down a chocolate bar and a biscuit, they encountered a German company concealed in a network of slit trenches. They attacked and took 30 prisoners.
At 5pm three Sherman tanks were knocked out directly in front of the troop. The firing came from a wood 400 yards away, but no sooner had they chased off the enemy than salvo after salvo from the Royal Navy started falling among the Yeomanry. They called up the ship, but it was 15 minutes before the shelling ceased; there were several casualties.
Just as it got dark, the men came up against a radar station surrounded by mines and barbed wire. Rockets from a six-barrelled nebelwerfer rained down on them from this strongpoint, but Perry bracketed the target in two rounds and his next six fell perfectly.
When they were five miles inland, the first German aeroplane appeared, a Heinkel 111. “That,” Perry wrote, “means a good pranging later on, so we had to dig deep.” At 5am an officer was brought in on a stretcher with a bullet through his chest. “A lesson learned,” wrote Perry. “Don’t ever swan around on a motorbike in the middle of the night when the battle is fluid.”
On D+8, Perry was near Tilly-sur-Seulles and supporting “A” Company, 6th Battalion Durham Light Infantry, in an attack on a fortified farmhouse. As he advanced on foot with the infantry across a wheat field, 12 spandaus opened up.
The DLI took a number of casualties and Perry’s wireless set was knocked out. He ran back to his carrier, thinking that every moment would be his last. Bullets from the spandaus rattled against the side of the vehicle and then one came straight through the control box three inches behind his head.
As he returned to the infantry with a new set, he was fired on by a 75mm self-propelled gun. The nosecap of the HE shell hit the wing of the vehicle but failed to stop it. The DLI fixed bayonets, charged and took the building. As Perry went inside a bullet whistled through his battledress, grazing his shoulder blade.
86 HY took part in the push across the Seine and the advance into Belgium and Holland. On September 23, at Veghel, midway between Eindhoven and Nijmegen, Perry was severely wounded in the leg and took no further part in the war.
In 1948, after he had recovered, he joined a firm of solicitors in Bournemouth and spent the rest of his working life there. In retirement he lived at Poole, Dorset, where he was a keen yachtsman and golfer.
Stephen Perry died on January 15. He married, in 1951, Kathleen (Kay) Mitchell, who predeceased him.
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/obituaries/8435995/Captain-Stephen-Perry.html
Salvos from the destroyers sent up great sheets of flame in the half light as their shells hurtled towards the shore batteries.
Soon most of them felt seasick and would rather risk the German bullets than stand any more buffeting by the waves. At seven, the 24 guns of the regiment opened up from their Landing Craft (Artillery) and pounded the defences at Ver-Sur-Mer and La Rivière. Shells from the Germans sent up huge spouts of water close to Perry.
An hour later their craft grounded on Gold Beach and the doors went down. The water was waist-high. Shells were falling, spandaus were rattling from the seawall. To their right another landing craft exploded.
After the sappers had cut through the barbed wire and taped routes through the minefields, Perry and his troop pushed on towards Creully, surviving encounters with snipers and a pair of 88mm guns. At 3pm, after he had bolted down a chocolate bar and a biscuit, they encountered a German company concealed in a network of slit trenches. They attacked and took 30 prisoners.
At 5pm three Sherman tanks were knocked out directly in front of the troop. The firing came from a wood 400 yards away, but no sooner had they chased off the enemy than salvo after salvo from the Royal Navy started falling among the Yeomanry. They called up the ship, but it was 15 minutes before the shelling ceased; there were several casualties.
Just as it got dark, the men came up against a radar station surrounded by mines and barbed wire. Rockets from a six-barrelled nebelwerfer rained down on them from this strongpoint, but Perry bracketed the target in two rounds and his next six fell perfectly.
When they were five miles inland, the first German aeroplane appeared, a Heinkel 111. “That,” Perry wrote, “means a good pranging later on, so we had to dig deep.” At 5am an officer was brought in on a stretcher with a bullet through his chest. “A lesson learned,” wrote Perry. “Don’t ever swan around on a motorbike in the middle of the night when the battle is fluid.”
On D+8, Perry was near Tilly-sur-Seulles and supporting “A” Company, 6th Battalion Durham Light Infantry, in an attack on a fortified farmhouse. As he advanced on foot with the infantry across a wheat field, 12 spandaus opened up.
The DLI took a number of casualties and Perry’s wireless set was knocked out. He ran back to his carrier, thinking that every moment would be his last. Bullets from the spandaus rattled against the side of the vehicle and then one came straight through the control box three inches behind his head.
As he returned to the infantry with a new set, he was fired on by a 75mm self-propelled gun. The nosecap of the HE shell hit the wing of the vehicle but failed to stop it. The DLI fixed bayonets, charged and took the building. As Perry went inside a bullet whistled through his battledress, grazing his shoulder blade.
86 HY took part in the push across the Seine and the advance into Belgium and Holland. On September 23, at Veghel, midway between Eindhoven and Nijmegen, Perry was severely wounded in the leg and took no further part in the war.
In 1948, after he had recovered, he joined a firm of solicitors in Bournemouth and spent the rest of his working life there. In retirement he lived at Poole, Dorset, where he was a keen yachtsman and golfer.
Stephen Perry died on January 15. He married, in 1951, Kathleen (Kay) Mitchell, who predeceased him.
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/obituaries/8435995/Captain-Stephen-Perry.html
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