JIM STONE, SOLDIER AND MILITARY POLICEMAN 1908-2005
Rough, tough army officer who led Canadian troops in Italy and Korea, and was three times awarded the DSO, was proudest of a fund he started for blind children
By TOM HAWTHORN
Tuesday, December 27, 2005
Posted at 1:37 AM EST
Special to The Globe and Mail
VICTORIA -- Big Jim Stone was a soldier's soldier. Gruff in manner, disciplined by nature, domineering in person, he was thought arrogant by some, yet his bravery was unquestioned. He once greeted news of an enemy assault by barking, "Let the bastards come!"
Mr. Stone rose from private to command of a regiment during the Second World War, fighting in Sicily and northward on the Italian peninsula to bloody Ortona and beyond. He returned to action in the Korean War, his tactics and the bravery of the men under his command halting a fearsome Chinese advance at Kap'yong.
He was one of only 22 officers in the Canadian army ever to be awarded the Distinguished Service Order three times. He also had a Military Cross to his credit.
He was a physically imposing man -- bald, with ropy muscles in thick arms, and a brush mustache. His features were more than once likened to those of an eagle, a comparison for which he did not care. To incur his displeasure was dangerous. Mr. Stone was as fierce a disciplinarian as he was a warrior.
James Riley Stone, who was born in Gloucestershire, trained as a cadet in England before emigrating to Canada in 1927. He was working in a forestry camp in Alberta's Peace River district when word reached him of war in Europe. He rode his horse out of camp on the first leg of a four-day trek to Grand Prairie, where the eager 6-foot-5 soldier joined the Edmonton Regiment as a 31-year-old private.
By the time the Eddies fought across Sicily and onto the Italian boot, Mr. Stone had risen up the ranks to become a company commander. On the outskirts of Ortona, a picturesque Tuscan seaside town, German snipers plagued the Canadians, who eventually found an undefended trench along which they managed to sneak beneath the guns and into town.
The major was "resourceful, independent-minded, determined, brave to the point of near recklessness," according to the popular military historian Mark Zuehlke.
Mr. Stone would need all those qualities to survive the grim battle for the ancient town. He devised a bold strike at the heart of the German defence with tanks charging into the heart of the town with the support of the infantry. The ruse caught the enemy by surprise, but just as the daring tactic seemed about to succeed, the lead tank stopped for fear of mines. According to Mr. Zuehlke's riveting account in Ortona, the major jumped aboard the tank only to hear the tank commander balk at risking his $20,000 machine.
"I've got 20 to 30 men here with no goddamned armour at all and they're worth a million dollars apiece," Mr. Stone yelled at the tank commander. "You're just a bunch of goddamned armoured sissies."
Just then, a German antitank gun began firing on the row of tanks. Mr. Stone threw a smoke grenade and raced headlong towards the gun. He lobbed a fragmentation grenade before seeking cover against the enemy gun's steel shield, silencing the gunners on the other side. The Canadians eventually captured the ruined town at great cost.
Later, Mr. Stone chafed at being the second in command. When he asked for a transfer, his commander refused, insisting that Mr. Stone "was the Edmonton Regiment."
After his bravery at San Fortunato Ridge, in which he led an antitank platoon into the midst of German defences, the major was awarded a DSO. He was promoted to lieutenant-colonel and in 1944 at last took command of the Loyal Edmonton, as the regiment had since become known. He saw further action in northwest Europe, earning a bar to the DSO, and was preparing for a tour in Asia when the Japanese surrendered.
After the war, he ran a hotel in Salmon Arm, B.C., where he settled into a domestic life with his bride and the first of several children. He maintained a military connection as commander of the Rocky Mountain Rangers.
He returned to combat duty with the outbreak of the Korean War as commanding officer of the 2nd Battalion, Princess Patricia's Canadian Light Infantry. Soon after arriving by troopship at Pusan in December of 1950, Mr. Stone was told his men were to be sent as reserves near the front line. With the memory still fresh of the 1941 debacle at Hong Kong, when green Canadian troops became inevitable casualties of a Japanese assault, the commanding officer insisted his men had come to Korea to complete their training before facing the enemy. He even visited U.S. Lt.-Gen. Walton Walker to press for a guarantee. Not wanting a political battle with the Canadian government, the commanding general agreed. (He would die in a traffic accident later that month.)
The training time also afforded Mr. Stone a chance to weed out those whom he saw unfit for battle. "Much 'scruff' that was hastily recruited has now been returned to Canada," he wrote. "Troops here are fit, morale high, show lots of guts in close contact."
He would later contend that he had not removed all the misfits after some men died drinking canned heat (methyl alcohol). According to author John Melady, the troops were ordered to march past the corpses as a lesson.
On their way to the front, the Canadians came across a massacre of American soldiers, who had hunkered down for the night in a deserted hamlet only to be killed in their sleep. Many were still in their sleeping bags. Mr. Stone ordered the Canadians be outfitted only with a single blanket each. They might be uncomfortable, he reasoned, but they might not wind up with their throats slit.
Sleep would be an impossibility in the battle in which he and his men will be remembered.
A massive Chinese assault had left troops from the Republic of Korea in a disorganized retreat. Mr. Stone, who had only days earlier returned after suffering from smallpox, was ordered to defend one side of a river valley atop Hill 677. He did a reconnaissance from what would soon be the enemy's assaulting point, determining the likely strategy for the Chinese attack. His recce and his experience fighting the Germans in the hills of Tuscany would prove invaluable on the night of April 24, 1951.
The Chinese attacked in great strength, vastly outnumbering the Canadian defenders, who were somewhat unnerved by their stealth -- the Chinese travelled silently, rubber footwear muffling noise until the moment when a piercing whistle or bugle call signalled the start of an attack. The startling noise heralded the start of a bloody battle, the Pats raining murderous machine-gun fire on the Chinese, who had the disadvantage of climbing a steep hill.
Still, their overwhelming numbers came close to overrunning Canadian positions. The fighting in close quarters was fierce and desperate. A platoon leader bravely called for artillery strikes on his own position, trusting his men's slit trenches would protect them from the aerial assault.
At times, the outcome looked dicey. A captain asked to pull back, but Mr. Stone refused. "I told him to stay there, that nobody could pull out, if we ever lose that hill, we lose it all," he said.
In the morning, Mr. Stone ordered an air drop to an isolated platoon, which had exhausted its supplies, including ammunition. The Americans unloaded their cargo with pinpoint accuracy to the relief of the Canadians below.
The attack was repulsed. The Chinese had died by the dozens, if not hundreds. The losses to Big Jim Stone's Patricias: 10 killed, 23 wounded. "Kap'yong was not a great battle, as battles go," he would write many years later. "Personally I believe that Kap'yong was the limit of the planned offensive of the Chinese at that time."
Mr. Stone was convinced his men would have been annihilated had the Chinese pressed on. Still, the defence of Hill 677 undoubtedly saved many soldiers from the UN forces, who won time to reorganize following their hasty retreat.
In any case, the Pats were awarded a United States Presidential Unit Citation, a rare honour. Mr. Stone received a second bar to his DSO.
After Korea, he qualified as a parachutist as the 2nd Princess Pats joined an airborne brigade group called the Mobile Striking Force. In 1953, he became chief instructor at the Royal Canadian School of Infantry at Camp Borden in Ontario. Promoted to colonel the following year, he was appointed provost-marshal of the Canadian Army. He was seconded to the federal justice department in 1958 and later served as senior deputy commander of penitentiaries.
In 1957, he founded the Military Police Fund for Blind Children, raising money for recreational activities and medical equipment. His own daughter, Moira, known as Plumsy, had lost both eyes to cancer. While attending a school for the blind at Brantford, Ont., the girl had asked her father to treat classmates who could not afford candies at the school's tuck shop. Mr. Stone was heartbroken and angered by the lack of resources and founded the fund the year after the death of his daughter, aged 7.
He was named a member of the Order of Canada in 1994 for his charitable work, not his heroics. He considered the fund for children his greatest accomplishment.
Jim Stone was born on Aug. 2,
1908, in Gloucestershire, England.
He died on Nov. 24 at The Lodge
at Broadmead in the Victoria
suburb of Saanich. He was 97.
He leaves daughters Shelley
Bouska and Victoria Patricia
Shimmons; a son, Michael Stone;
six grandchildren; and, two great-
grandsons. He was predeceased
by his wife, the former Esther
King, whom he married on April 2,
1946. She died in 1990. He was also predeceased by a daughter, Moira, in 1956 and a son, James, in 1958.
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