Introduction

The Victoria Cross represents the best in military valour. We learn the background of this medal through the story of Sergeant Ernest “Smokey” Smith.

The line extended from the main door to the Centre Block of the Parliament Building in Ottawa, out past the entrance to the Senate, down the inclined path and halfway along the East Block. Most of the people standing there were in uniform, the black, green, and blue of Canadian Forces’ personnel, with a smattering of civilians in their midst. It was Tuesday, 9 August 2005. The skies were clear, the sun high, the weather hot. Men and women stood in line to say a personal farewell to a hero, the last living Canadian recipient of the Victoria Cross.

Sergeant Ernest Alvia “Smokey” Smith, VC, CM, OBC, CD, had died peacefully in his Vancouver home on 3 August at the age of ninety-one. After a few preliminary ceremonies in Vancouver immediately following his death, Sergeant Smith’s cremated remains were flown to Ottawa. The purpose was to allow them to lie-in-state in the foyer of the House of Commons in the Centre Block of the national Parliament Building. The honour of lying-in-state in the Parliament Building had previously only been granted to a handful of prominent Canadians – former governors-general, prime ministers, or members of parliament – with the notable exception of the Unknown Soldier in 2000. Sergeant Smith received the honour, appropriately enough, in the Year of the Veteran. As the bearer party carried the casket into the building the bell in the Peace Tower was rung, ninety-one times in total. Flags across the national capital, across Canada and on Canadian buildings abroad were lowered to half-mast. On the morning of the 9th, after dignitaries and government officials conducted a private ceremony, Parliament’s front doors were opened to the public. The long line of military personnel and civilians slowly flowed forward, signing the books of condolence, witnessing the military vigil provided, and paying respects to the man. One reporter noted that some of the visitors smiled, while others “saluted or bowed their heads in silent prayer as they stood near a casket containing Smith’s ashes.”

Four days later, on 13 August, an immense military funeral was held in Vancouver. The ceremony began at 1000 hours at Seaforth Armoury, where Sergeant Smith’s remains had been placed under vigil the previous day. The procession itself, including hundreds of men and women in uniform, slowly moved along Burrard Street, the same route that the combat veterans of The Seaforth Highlanders of Canada – Smith’s wartime regiment – had followed when they returned to Canada in the fall of 1945. Thousands of mourners lined the streets, standing in the bright sunshine as Smith’s casket, draped with the national flag, perched atop an old gun carriage and flanked by honorary pallbearers from the navy, army and air force, passed by. When the casket crossed the Burrard Street Bridge four CF-18 fighter jets appeared overhead, grouping themselves in the missing man formation in order to signify the “loss of a comrade”. A veterans’ delegation joined the funeral procession as it approached its final destination.

After a two kilometre journey, the funeral procession reached St. Andrew’s Wesley United Church, the site of the funeral service. Eight bearers, all Seaforths, removed the casket from the gun carriage and carried Sergeant Smith into the church. People standing outside the packed church, wishing to pay their respects, began to clap. The funeral itself was what one would expect, mostly prayers, hymns and speeches. At the same time, the service “touched on Smith’s famed irreverent side”, as shown by the presence of music numbers such as one of Smith’s favourites, the jazz piece “Way Down Yonder in New Orleans”.

Smokey Smith’s last wishes concerning his final resting place were carried out the day after the funeral service. He had asked to have his cremated remains buried at sea, specifically to have his ashes scattered over the Pacific Ocean. The “tremendous honour” to carry out this duty fell to the ship’s company of HMCS Ottawa, one of the Canadian frigates stationed in nearby Esquimalt. On the morning of the 14th Smith’s immediate family and his remains embarked onboard Ottawa for the brief journey. And, a little after 1030 hours, Smokey Smith’s remains were scattered over the water off Point Atkinson, near Howe Sound.

The German staff car was the first enemy vehicle to cross the line of roadblocks and anti-tank mines laid out by the Seaforth’s tank-hunting platoon. Somehow, the driver of the small Volkswagen avoided the mines and made it through the line unharmed. He didn’t, however, see the Seaforth soldier armed with a PIAT launch his bomb at point-blank range. The driver was torn in half and the car rolled into the ditch. A senior German officer got out of the wrecked vehicle and seemed to start yelling orders. He didn’t last long either.

What followed was the confirmation of the usefulness of a dedicated anti-tank platoon within the regiment. The night before, 21 October 1944, The Seaforth Highlanders of Canada had launched an attack across the Savio River along the eastern coast of Italy. The weather was horrendous, downpours of rain raising the level of the river to waist height. The current was fast, making the crossing difficult. But the worst part was the effect on the far riverbank, which was both steep and, now, extremely slippery. Nevertheless, the officers and men of “D” and “B” Companies, wet and coated in mud, made their way across the river and consolidated positions along the top of the riverbank. Mortar and machine gun fire harassed the two companies as they moved forward.

"A” and “C” Companies then moved forward, through the lead companies, and deeper into enemy territory. “C” Company of the Seaforths was on the right of the advance, moving forward along a road to the village of Pieve Sestina and a bit further to a nearby church. The tank-hunting platoon, which had originally crossed the river with “B” Company was detached and moved forward with “C” Company. Unfortunately, the advance opened “A” and “C” Company personnel to attacks from all sides as, after all, they had broken through the German front line. Enemy infantry, machine gunners, tanks, and self-propelled guns were on all sides, with the exception of the tenuous connections back to “B” and “D” Companies.

Enemy fire reached out for “C” Company as it neared the church around 0400 hours. Worse, German armour could be heard moving about in the area. The Canadian soldiers quickly began to dig in. “C” Company had no anti-tank support, with the Canadian tanks and anti-tank guns still stranded east of the Savio River. Sergeant Keith Thompson, commanding the tank-hunting platoon, deployed it and had roadblocks put into place. Soldiers armed with PIATs dropped into the ditches alongside the road in preparation for the most likely advance of the enemy armour. Sergeant Thompson personally placed a string of anti-tank mines across the road and camouflaged them. The Germans soon moved out from behind some of the buildings near the church. The first victim was the staff car, but the enemy officer’s words had been heard, and a 75-mm tracked self-propelled gun soon moved into view. It continued to rumble forward towards the Seaforths and their roadblock. Private K.W. Ballard took a shot at it with his PIAT, but his bomb flew over the top of the self-propelled gun. Fortunately, as the big beast continued forward it struck one of the anti-tank mines and lost a track, blocking the road in the process. The Seaforths cheered and one soldier dropped a hand grenade into the turret of the self-propelled gun, killing the crew.

One staff car destroyed. One self-propelled gun immobilized. Next came a Panther. This was a different story. It was not a soft-skinned vehicle or a thinly-armoured artillery piece. The Panther was one of the deadliest tanks in the German armoury. It rolled up behind the smoking self-propelled gun and stopped. The Seaforth tank-hunters were ready. Private Ernest Alvia “Smokey” Smith had previously led two men and a PIAT into a position across the road in case they were needed. Before the Panther arrived, Private Smith and Private James Tennant recrossed the road and grabbed a second PIAT. As the Panther approached their position, its MG-34 machine gun opened up. German infantry on the tank also threw grenades in the direction of the Canadians. Private Tennant – he and Smith were described as “thick as thieves” – was wounded, taking shrapnel in the shoulder and arm. The Panther was now within ten metres of Smith’s position. He jumped up out of the ditch, then laid back down in a very exposed position in order to get the best possible aim with his PIAT. He fired. Many years later Smith would note that he had “barely enough time to aim.” The Panther continued forward a few yards, then stopped. Severely wounded, it began to try to back away from the Canadian position.

The Panther may have ceased to be a threat, but the anti-tank round had no effect, it would seem, on the ten or so German infantrymen that had been riding on the back of the tank. They now jumped down, armed with sub-machine guns and potato-masher grenades, and charged towards Private Smith. Completely unfazed, Smith refused to back down and instead moved out on to the road. He fired his Thompson sub-machine gun at the Germans at point blank range, killing four of them and driving the others back. Another enemy armoured vehicle nearby began to open fire in Smith’s direction and the German infantry began to regroup and move forward once again. Smith continued to hold his position, reloaded his weapon, and protected his wounded comrade until the Germans stopped and withdrew.

Again, another enemy tank began to fire in Private Smith’s direction. And again, Smith ignored the threat and took Private Tennant, now bleeding badly, to the nearby church to get him help from battalion medical staff. Smith then returned to his roadside defensive position, waiting for the enemy to give it another try. They didn’t. A Victoria Cross-winning performance had come to an end.

While Smokey Smith fought, other German tanks and self-propelled guns attempted to come at the Seaforths from around the other side of the church. They, too, failed as the tank-hunting platoon continued the fight, destroying two of the enemy weapons and killing numerous soldiers. Sergeant Thompson’s men performed splendidly, Thompson himself later receiving an immediate Distinguished Conduct Medal for his “coolness and tenacity” and his leadership. The fires from the devastated enemy tanks and guns soon lit up the sky. Dead Germans littered the ground. And, by 0600 hours, the enemy had pulled back, this part of the battle over.

At first glance, the Victoria Cross does not appear to be a particularly impressive decoration. Uniformly dark brown in colour, matte in finish, with a plain crimson ribbon, it pales in comparison to more colourful honours or awards in the British or Canadian Honours Systems. Yet, to reach such a conclusion would be unfortunate. Part of the esteem—even reverence—with which the Victoria Cross is held is due to its simplicity and the idea that a supreme, often fatal, act of gallantry does not require a complicated or flamboyant insignia. A simple, strong and understated design pays greater tribute.

More than 1,300 Victoria Crosses have been awarded to the sailors, soldiers and airmen of British Imperial and, later, Commonwealth nations, contributing significantly to the military heritage of these countries. In truth, the impact of the award has an even greater reach given that some of the recipients were sons of other nations who enlisted with a country in the British Empire or Commonwealth and performed an act of conspicuous bravery. Some recipients earned their award and lived to receive it, others did not and their specially marked headstones are found throughout the world in Commonwealth War Graves Cemeteries and other graveyards.

In parts of the Commonwealth, the Victoria Cross remains the highest award for gallantry in the presence of the enemy. Canada, Australia and New Zealand have all adopted their own versions of the Victoria Cross. In the latter two nations, they are identical to the original award. The Canadian decoration is to be “awarded for the most conspicuous bravery, a daring or pre-eminent act of valour or self-sacrifice or extreme devotion to duty, in the presence of the enemy.” It is the latter condition, “…in the presence of the enemy”, that distinguishes the Victoria Cross from the Cross of Valour and makes them, respectively and simplistically, the highest awards for military and civilian acts of courage.

As the lying-in-state and funeral of "Smokey" Smith highlighted, the Victoria Cross still resonates with Canadians, even more than six decades after it was last awarded to a member of the Canadian military. Debates over its place within the Canadian Honours System in the 1980s and 1990s led to the creation of the Canadian version of the decoration in 1993. In 2006, stamps and coins celebrating the 150th anniversary of the creation of the original award joined the ever-growing collection of materials commemorating the story of the Victoria Cross and Canada. Its place at the top of the Canadian Honours System is secure.

Photo credits

• 1 Canadian Forces Joint Imagery Centre, Department of National Defence
• 2 Directorate of History and Heritage, Department of National Defence

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