The Second World War Dieppe raid M.M. group of five awarded to Corporal J. A. Gregory, South Saskatchewan Regiment, a part-Blackfoot warrior who accounted for several of the enemy in his role as a Battalion sniper - but lost an eye in the final withdrawal when he had no less than four vessels sunk from under him: anything he had seen or experienced in the Great War, when he had been twice wounded, ‘was a picnic compared to his eleven hours under fire at Dieppe’

Military Medal, G.VI.R. (L. 12057 Cpl. J. A. Gregory, S. Sask. R.); 1939-45 Star; Defence Medal 1939-45, silver; Canadian Voluntary Service Medal, with overseas clasp; War Medal 1939-45, silver, mounted as worn, generally good very fine (5) £4000-5000

This lot was sold as part of a special collection, The Ron Penhall Collection.

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One of just five M.Ms awarded to the South Saskatchewan Regiment in the 1939-45 War, all of them for the Dieppe raid.

M.M. London Gazette 2 October 1942.

‘In recognition of gallant and distinguished services in the combined attack upon Dieppe.’

The original recommendation states:

‘ During recent operations at Dieppe on 19 August 1942, Corporal Gregory was a sniper and scout attached to Battalion Headquarters. On four occasions, although under fire and observation, he made long trips into enemy sniper positions that were causing casualties at Battalion Headquarters. On each occasion he killed the enemy sniper. In between these sorties, Corporal Gregory kept the defences of Battalion Headquarters organised and although he lost an eye during the action, continued with his duties until the final withdrawal to the beach. His courageous devotion to duty was of inestimable value in the defence of Battalion Headquarters.’

Joseph Arthur “Joe” Gregory was born at St. Laurent, Manitoba in December 1900, his antecedents including Blackfoot warriors. Enlisting under-age in the Canadian Overseas Contingent in the Great War, he served in France and Flanders with the 1st Canadian Mounted Rifles, being wounded at Sanctuary Wood in June 1916 and again at Oppy Wood in March 1918 - ‘This time my wounds were such that I remained in hospital until September 1918, when I was invalided home to Canada.’

The renewal of hostilities in September 1939 witnessed Gregory enlisting in the South Saskatchewan Regiment at Swift Current, and he was embarked for the U.K. in August 1940. A Corporal by the time of his participation in the famous Dieppe raid, his main task was to protect the Saskatchewans’ Battalion Headquarters (B.H.Q.), a role that brought him into close contact with his C.O., Lieutenant-Colonel C. C. Merritt - shortly to be a V.C.

The following extracts have been taken from Gregory’s own account of that memorable day:

‘The entire line of landing craft hit the beach [“Green” Beach] at almost the same instant. The wall proved good shelter from the machine-gun and rifle fire which was mostly directed at the boats, from which we had all disembarked and quickly crossed the short 30 yards of beach and were now on our way up the barbed wire. Apparently the Nazis thought we had not yet landed, the gunfire still being directed at the boats themselves. Different coloured tracer ammunition, in the gloom of the early morning, gave the show a First of July appearance ...

I started out alone, ahead of B.H.Q., to clear the houses in that vicinity for the purpose of protecting B.H.Q., but upon reaching the second house my good friend Silver Stewart came up right behind me. A woman of about 45 years was in the lower part of the house, but in the first room I entered upstairs two nazis faced me. Empty bottles were scattered about, with two full Cognac bottles and a large parcel of food on the table. Silver Stewart held the two Germans at the point of a gun until I had searched the other rooms, where I found two good-looking girls. It seemed that we had broken up an all-night party. We took all of them over to the interrogator for questioning. The older woman stated that the younger women were obliged to entertain the Nazis garrisoned there. I found evidence of this in most German billets. We gave the parcel and Cognac to the stretcher-bearers ...

Our Adjutant, Captain Buchanan, sent me on a reconnaissance of the river, and to locate the bridge. As I went across to the next street towards the river, a Nazi jumped from a house, behind me, but he was promptly shot down by Sergeant Skoberg. I found the river very high, too swampy near the edges, to cross. The bridge was swept by machine-gun fire and our men were being hit there as I came up. Heavy mortar fire was now coming in among the houses. I reported back to B.H.Q. with my findings ...

At one house at the bottom of the right ridge, an old French lady pointed out a sort of garage, saying “Allemande!” We went toward it and as we came around to the entrance I glanced up the lane where two of our boys were escorting about fourteen prisoners. Stewart shouted, and I turned as he jumped towards the Germans with his bayonet. I sprayed one with the Tommy-gun as Silver got the other. They had rifles and grenades, and would likely have got our boys, who were escorting prisoners, if we had not surprised them ...

B.H.Q. had moved, as the Company were held up at the bridge by machine-gun fire, and the approaches to the bridge were getting a nasty pasting from mortar fire. Our own mortars were set up when the enemy mortar positions were spotted, but the Nazis promptly knocked them out, most of our crews becoming casualties. At this time, Colonel Merritt personally led the way across the bridge, and most of the men who followed him were hit; but enough got through to knock out the pillbox at the other end of the bridge ...

My brother Fred and the other observer now joined us. We noticed some shots coming from close by, so after placing an observer, we started mopping up again and were joined by three more men ... I located the Regimental Aid Post. There appeared to be about 40 wounded there, our Regimental Sergeant-Major being badly hit in both legs. We started for the ridge again, and coming out from a house we had just searched, we came out the back way and found the heavy gate locked. My brother Fred started to climb the wall when a burst of machine-gun fire cut through the vines all around him. We shot out the lock and came out into the street. An old French woman came over and told us to come where a wounded soldier lay. It was a lad from ‘C’ Company, badly hit, so I helped him towards the R.A.P. and on the way met Coporal Mundy and turned the wounded man over to him. Upon arriving back at the gate, I could not find the men who had been with me, so proceeded alone. As I climbed over a six-foot wall, at almost the last house, three Jerries ran across a small orchard. Firing one handed, I dropped two, and the other Jerry got over the opposite wall into the trees as my magazine ran empty, but I heard shots in that direction a minute or so later, so I presumed someone got him ...

I proceeded back to the Nazi officers’ quarters ... As I came out a shot snapped over my head from a point near the ridge, so, ducking along a wall for about 50 yards, I climbed over as he shot again. Sneaking up to about 40 yards and spotting him in a clump of bush, I gave him two bursts. He could not have had much experience as he exposed himself too much. I started down to R.H.Q. and noted a couple of shots from near the river, about 600 yards away. I located him by coming in from the side, giving him about an eight shot burst to make sure. Then I went back to B.H.Q. ... I saw Colonel Merritt again as he went to where our men were held up about a mile inland at an enemy strong-point, suffering many casualties from fire from the strong-point, from the left ridge mortar batteries and also from artillery ...

Snipers were becoming active again, so I posted a couple of our own snipers, one at the top of a house, the other sniper nearby, then I went up on a little expedition up along the river. I was very lucky, as I came out behind one Nazi sniper and only located him when he fired. I waded along a ditch beside a hedge and got within about 20 yards of him - one burst was enough. Coming back, I passed through a yard where a nice young girl and an old man gave me a drink of wine and a cup of coffee. Their house had been hit by a mortar bomb. Back at B.H.Q. a sniper was bothering them with erratic firing, and I tried for half an hour to locate him, but he must have ducked ...

About half way up the ridge I heard the order to make for the beach to evacuate. By this time Germans were on either side of me and I saw several filing down through trees to a row of houses below me, which would cut me off. I fired one magazine full at them, made a duck, and then ran along the wall to the street below, cutting down to the right hand side of the beach ... ’

Once back at the beach, Gregory assisted in establishing a final line of defence and in loading wounded men into the A.L.Cs (Assault Landing Craft), prior to making his own bid for freedom in a similar craft. What followed was extraordinary even by Dieppe standards. His account continues:

‘I was helping push the A.L.C., and we had just got it floating clear when a bullet struck the side of the A.L.C., ricochetted into my face and knocked me down under the water for a minute [blinding him in one eye]. One other man was hit badly at the same time, so I helped him over to the shelter of another boat which had been blown up but afforded some cover. Another man lay close by and I managed to get him under the shelter of the sea-wall. I went across the beach again, the bullets still missing me but kicking up the sand around me, and I waded out and climbed over the side of the A.L.C. There were already some wounded men in it, and quite a number more made it across the beach, waded out, and climbed in beside me. I had lost my Tommy-gun at the other boat when hit and had discarded the equipment.

Heavy rifle and machine-gun fire came into the boat from the top of the cliff, killing and again wounding some of those already hit. Ricochetting bullets made a wicked continuous whine off the sides of our boat. We had not gotten over three or four hundred yards out when we bagan to sink. Our boat kept going, but as it filled, went much slower.

I got to my feet and hooked both arms over the edge, but could not get out, as so many badly wounded men were grasping my legs. I managed to hold one man up, but the water was nearly up level now and the lads below drowned. I found myself free and managed to swim out as the boat sank. Some of the men also escaping turned back to the shore, but some of us headed outward, and were soon picked up. This A.L.C. did not stop as it picked us up, as it was being shelled with light stuff and mortars, also by aircraft. I grasped some ropes hanging from the sides, and two men - one on each leg - nearly tore me away. I remember a sailor yelling to them to let go but cannot recall how I got in the boat. This A.L.C. kept circling around picking up men, under heavy fire, until finally hit and then it headed out.

The water was pouring in, and everyone discarded boots, steel helmets, clothing and everything, to lighten the boat. We had got about a mile out when we had to leave the craft.

I swam around until picked up by a M.T.B. This boat also circled around to pick up men, and was also hit. Here I met Sergeant-Major MacAvoy of our H.Q. Company, who bandaged my forehead and eye, telling me my eye was gone. My left eye. MacAvoy was wounded in the back.

We left the boat in a hurry, and were picked up by a destroyer, the Berkeley. MacAvoy helped me climb the rope ladder to the deck and took me down to the sick bay. I sat down in a chair and found Lieutenant of the Special Task Force on a stretcher beside me, and we began a discussion about the scrap. The guns were firing from - and at - our ship continually.

I seemed to hear a heavy thud and felt myself lifted to the ceiling. A heavy bomb had struck the ship just off the sick bay, blowing a large hole in the side, and concussion made a mess of things inside. Then the water rushed in and the back-wash carried me with a rush to the hole in the side of the ship, back in again, then right out of the side of the destroyer and into the Channel. I went under, and bobbed to the surface amongst a number of bodies.

Another M.T.B. came up and I was again picked out of the sea. As I reached the deck an aircraft gunned us. Just after this, I noticed that I had been hit again, but did not know just when or where it had happened. A sailor bandaged me. I had discarded the last of my clothing when getting away from the sinking destroyer, so I stood nude and shivering. A sailor took off his heavy jacket, put it around me, while another sailor gave me a shot of rum.

They told me to go below, down in the hold where it was warmer. But I replied that “this is my fifth boat, and I prefer to be up where I’d have a chance to get away if it was hit.” One comforting sailor said, “Lad, if this craft is hit, we’ll all go straight up, because she’s full of explosives and ammunition!” However, I went over and lay down on the deck beside an Oerlikon gun which was firing almost continuously. We were moving all the time, and I watched the air battles with my one good eye. The concussion from exploding bombs and the guns firing sort of dazed me. It seemed like hours, moving all the time.

Finally, I rose up, took a look around, saw chalk cliffs white against the water ahead of us, so turned to a gunner and said happily, “Gee, we’re nearly home, eh?” The gunner laughed and said, “Home be b-------, we’re still at Dieppe!” I didn’t feel so good about that! He explained that we had had to stay behind to give protection to the convoy which was now on its way back to England with wounded, our prisoners, and what was left of our regiments and other members of our attacking force. At last, about 1700 hours, we stopped circling the Dieppe beaches area, and headed for England.’

As a result of his wounds, Gregory was evacuated to Canada in October 1942, where he served for the remainder of the War at the Central Recruiting Station at Calgary, gaining advancement to Staff Sergeant in June 1945. He was honourably discharged that September and died at Calgary in July 1971.

Sold with a copy of The March of the Prairie Men, by Lieutenant-Colonel G. B. Buchanan, M.B.E., one of the title pages inscribed ‘To Ron Penhall, in appreciation of your interest in the Regiment, C. C. Merritt, Lt. Col., S. Sask. R.’, together with Merritt’s original handwritten text for the foreword to the book; together with much interesting and informative research, including transcripts of several radio interviews with Gregory following his return to Canada.