From Today I Found Out.
In the early morning hours of August 19, 1942, an armada of 237 ships appeared off the coast of northern France. Aboard was a raiding force of 6,100 men, mostly Canadians along with five battalions of elite British Commandoes, Royal Marines, and American Rangers. Their objective was to capture and briefly hold the coastal resort town of Dieppe. For months, the Soviet Union had pressured the British and Americans to open a second front in Europe, relieving some of the pressure on the beleaguered Red Army. Doing so, however, would require capturing an intact port, essential for delivering the vast amounts of men and supplies needed to sustain an invasion. The Dieppe Raid, codenamed ‘Operation Jubilee,’ would demonstrate the feasibility of such an operation. The 4,900 men of the 2nd Canadian Division, eager for action after months of training, were confident of success, their commander, Major General J.H. Roberts, declaring “Don’t worry, boys, it’ll be a piece of cake.” He could not have been more wrong. At 4 A.M. the landing ships carrying No.3 Commando stumbled into a flotilla of German torpedo boats, resulting in a brief exchange of fire. While the enemy vessels were scattered, the German coastal defences were now alerted to the raiders’ presence. Thus, when the Allied landing craft finally hit the beach, the enemy was waiting for them. What followed was chaos and slaughter. Dieppe was surrounded by high chalk cliffs, atop which the Germans had placed dozens of machine gun nests and mortar batteries, pre-sited to rake the beaches with deadly accuracy. Wave after wave of soldiers stormed out of their landing craft into the surf, only to be cut down by withering fire. Tanks struggled to advance up the beach, their tracks spinning uselessly on the loose shingle, while those that managed to reach the town found all the entrances blocked and were picked off one by one. In the absence of adequate Allied air cover, the German Luftwaffe mercilessly strafed and bombed the beaches, inflicting horrific casualties. About the only success of the day was enjoyed by the men of No.4 Commando, who managed to blow up the gun batteries at Vesterival-sur-Mer and Varangeville in a textbook operation. But it was too little, too late. At 9:40 AM, the signal to retreat was given, and the remaining men were withdrawn from the beach. They left behind 1,421 dead and 1,946 captured – more than half of the entire raiding force.
Though it came at a horrendous cost, the Dieppe Raid taught the Allies a vital lesson: ports were too easily defended, and could not be counted upon in a future invasion. Instead, the Allies would have to learn how to land and supply themselves on open beaches. Doing so, however, would require specialist equipment, including landing craft that could sail right up to the beach, discharge their load of men or vehicles, then immediately unteach themselves and return to the landing fleet. Just such a vehicle would come from an unexpected source: a bull-necked, foulmouthed, hard-drinking, free-wheeling boatbuilder from New Orleans named Andrew Higgins. In one of the most astonishing feats of the Second World War, in just five short years Higgins grew his tiny company into an industrial juggernaut that by the end of the war would produce over 20,000 landing craft – nearly 92% of the U.S. Navy’s entire wartime fleet. Sturdy, maneuverable, and dependable in even the heaviest surf, these humble little vessels served with distinction in nearly every theatre of the conflict and completely revolutionized amphibious warfare, prompting Allied Supreme Commander General Dwight D. Eisenhower to declare Andrew Higgins “The man who won the war for us.” This is the extraordinary story of the Landing Craft, Vehicle, Personnel or LCVP – better known as the Higgins Boat.
Author: Gilles Messier
Editor: Daven Hiskey
Host: Simon Whistler
Producer: Samuel Avila
