“Coverage of the intense contest being fought in a small corner of Italy had caught the attention of Adolf Hitler. Desperate for even a Pyrrhic victory, he ordered that the town be held at all costs.”
By Alex Zakrzewski
THE Battle of Ortona is fittingly remembered as Canada’s “Little Stalingrad” because of the ferocious urban fighting that took place. Tragically, the worst of it took place during Christmas.
For a week in late December 1943, the 1st Canadian Division, its brigades already battered and bloodied after months of hard fighting, fought Hitler’s elite paratroopers for control of the picturesque but peripheral town on Italy’s Adriatic coast.
The German paratroopers, or Fallschirmjäger, many of them hardened veterans of the savage war on the Eastern Front, turned Ortona’s quaint, cobblestone streets into a deathtrap. Snipers, machine gun nests, mines and booby straps took a devastating toll on the Canadians, who were forced to fight house-to-house with grenades, submachine guns, and often hand-to-hand with knives and bayonets.
The deeper into town the Canadians pressed, the stronger the German resistance became. The defenders famously dynamited buildings (often with their occupiers still inside), turning the town into a sea of rubble and burning timbers. Canadian mortars and artillery pounded day and night sending deadly chunks of debris flying in all directions, adding to the apocalyptic hellscape.
In a bit of tragic irony, the worst of the fighting took place over Christmas. In fact, on Christmas Eve, Canadians of the Seaforth Highlanders regiment found themselves battling for control of the Piazza San Francesco near the town’s centre, which they nicknamed “Dead Horse Square” after the large horse carcass that lay in the middle.
The square was defended by a German machine gun nest in the church belltower that blazed away at anything that moved. The Seaforths attempted to flank the church by occupying a neighbouring schoolhouse, but the Germans demolished it, killing every Canadian inside except for one. The lone survivor was miraculously dug out three days later.
Finally, a high-explosive shell from a Canadian Sherman tank brought the tower and machine gun crashing down. The Seaforths immediately charged into the church, only to find the Germans barricaded behind the altar. They spent the night engaged in fierce back-and-forth fighting, until early Christmas morning when the Canadians emerged victorious, having taken the church – and no prisoners.
Across Ortona, in the historic Maria di Constantinopoli Church, its ancient stones dating back to the 4th century, Seaforth commander Lieutenant-Colonel Syd Thomson watched the dead and wounded stream past his command post. As he contemplated the terrible sacrifices his men were making, he resolved to give them a Christmas they deserved.
With fighting raging throughout the town, the regimental quartermaster spared no effort preparing a feast fit for heroes, including meats, vegetables, mashed potatoes, gravy, and mince pies and Christmas puddings for dessert. Each man was even allowed a few beers in addition to his daily rum ration to help ease the stress of battle and add to the festivities.
For the next eight hours, one company of Seaforths at a time was rotated out of the battle lines and into the church courtyard, where rows of chairs and tables had been carefully arranged. As they filed in, their exhausted and bedraggled faces lit up at the sight of a traditional Canadian Christmas in this war-torn outskirt of German-occupied Europe. Tablecloths added an air of elegance to what would, for many, be their final meal.
For the Seaforths, the atmosphere could not have been more surreal. While Canadian artillery fired at German positions just metres away, Lieutenant Wilf Gildersleeve played carols and hymns on the church organ, sternly refusing the men’s requests for bawdy barracks songs. The regimental padre, Roy Durnford, noticed that a German shell had blown open the church sepulchre, exposing the bones inside. The Canadians were dining among the dead.
Gradually the men’s spirits rose, and for a fleeting few hours, they managed to forget the carnage raging just a few streets away. Many began to sing. The final service ended at 6 p.m. and was eaten by candlelight. Durnford noted how “huge grotesque shadows played on the walls” as the men sadly but stoically pulled themselves away from the festivities. They were returning to “face death itself.”
For the other Canadian regiments in Ortona there was nothing to compare to the Seaforth’s feast. A few swigs of black rum and a canned ration offered the only reprieve from the relentless fighting. For the German paratroopers, Christmas was even more disheartening.
The Allied media coverage of the intense contest being fought in a small corner of Italy had caught the attention of Adolf Hitler. Desperate for even a Pyrrhic victory, he ordered that the town be held at all costs. The German paratroopers, already greatly reduced in number, understood what this meant: their Führer’s Christmas gift was an order to die.
Fighting in Ortona would continue for several more brutal days until the German High Command, changing its mind at the last moment, withdrew from the city, allowing the Canadians to seize what was left. “Canada’s Stalingrad” had ended at enormous cost.
In just eight days, Canada had suffered more than 1,350 killed; German losses were nearly 900 dead. An estimated 1,300 civilians also perished in the fighting.
It would not be the last time the Canadians would meet the Fallschirmjäger in battle.
Alexander Zakrzewski is a Toronto-based freelance writer with a passion for military history. Follow him @AlexZed85 or reach out to him on LinkedIn. He loves sharing ideas with fellow military history enthusiasts.
