Descending from the Clouds

by Wurst, Spencer F. ; Wurst, Gayle;

  By this time it was completely dark, and we were in blackout conditions. Someone remembered I had gone to mines and demolition school, so I was given the dubious honor of supervising the mining of the tracks. It was a delicate job. First, we molded the plastic explosives onto the tops and sides of both tracks. After we thought they were well secured, we unscrewed the caps from the grenades. This allowed us to get to the safety pins, which we very delicately withdrew and saved. If this doesn’t sound like much, try doing it under blackout conditions. Once the pin was out, all a grenade had to do was lean over hard from the top of the track, and it would go off.

  I don’t remember how many gammon grenades we planted, or how long it took us. I tried to tamp the explosive as much as I could. We went back to our foxholes and stayed on high alert for the remainder of the night.

  Much to our surprise, we heard another locomotive coming down the track early the next morning. It even blew its whistle. The 2d Battalion unit farthest to the right opened up on it. It got by them, then the 2d Platoon of Company F took up the fire, and it got by them, too. When the train came to the area we had mined, the grenades went off and blew a small section of the track. The locomotive made it just across the break, and came to a screeching halt. We joined in with our small arms fire. Just to make sure, we put a 2.36 inch rocket from our bazooka into the engine.

  The shooting died down after a few minutes. We didn’t get much return fire. Most of the personnel were rear-echelon German military, and after the shooting started, they all jumped off on the other side of the boxcars. There were some wounded. We had to send out patrols, going under the boxcars and around either end of the train to pick up the prisoners. Most of them were taken within a hundred yards of the tracks and gave us no argument.

  We were primarily interested at the battalion level in information that could help us in the next two to three hours. The interrogations were short and snappy. We discovered we had stopped the last train out of Nijmegen. There was a lot of loot on it, and our company was well supplied with cigars, liquor and other booty for a few days. I heard that the cars near the end were full of radios, furniture, paintings, and other things of great value the Germans had looted from Nijmegen. These cars stretched back outside of my squad’s area, so I did not see these things for myself. But I can attest to an even more important cargo. The first or second boxcar behind the locomotive was loaded with German potato masher hand grenades. If our bazooka round had hit that freight car instead of the locomotive, we’d still be flying.

  After we had the train secured, some of us took out our ID panels, which were used to identify captured enemy vehicles. They measured about six by eight feet, unfolded. Whenever we captured a vehicle, we tied a panel down on the cab to keep it from being strafed by our own planes or shot up by friendly ground forces. We put two or three panels on the train to protect it from Allied aircraft. But they came down afterwards and strafed it anyway.

  After things had quieted down, I climbed up on a boxcar that had some bodies on top of it. There I discovered a man, probably a railroad worker, dressed in a German military uniform. He looked to be in his fifties. I was only nineteen, so he looked to me like an old man. There wasn’t a mark on him, and I couldn’t determine the cause of death. I concluded the poor guy must have died of a heart attack amidst all the shooting. This dead man on the top of the boxcar is the thing that sticks in my memory. Strangely, it is not the action but its aftermath that I remember best.

  These events occurred on September 18. Later in the day, our B-24 heavy bombers came in at very low altitude and dropped large amounts of supplies by parachute. I don’t know if we completely recovered them, but we were so hungry by that time that the horse the Dutch cooked up looked good.

  On September 19, General Gavin committed his division reserve to capturing the highway bridge and railroad bridge at Nijmegen. Company F, as part of the 2d Battalion, 505, learned we were moving into Nijmegen, a few miles up the line from the outskirts of Groesbeek. Company F was not part of the advance guard, which I think had been assigned to Company E. We also heard that British armor was approaching the division area. As we took up the approach march formation, we did hear tanks, and we were glad to see some armor as we got into the outskirts of Nijmegen.

  One of the most incredible things about the battle of Nijmegen is that we went into the city cold. At the squad level, we were absolutely ignorant; we had no information whatsoever on the situation. We were under the command of a new captain who had never been in battle before, Captain Rosen. There was no briefing on the street situation, the boulevards, what to expect at the bridge, or even its exact location. Not only did we not see a map, we were going into urban street fighting at nighttime with no idea as to the size or layout of the streets.

  As we moved into Nijmegen, we took advantage of all possible means to help us with our heavy loads. We were a pretty rugged looking outfit. We didn’t hesitate to use mules and horses, and I’ve seen the 60mm mortar squad transport ammunition on bicycles and in baby buggies. We had only been able to find one horse. That poor animal was so heavily loaded down with ammunition packs and carriers it was almost swayback. No one complained about the unmilitary appearance of the various types of transportation.

  We started picking up some heavy-caliber artillery fire on the outskirts of town. There was some big stuff coming in, which is especially frightening in a built-up area. We hugged the sidewalks as close to the buildings as possible, ready to dash into a house or take advantage of any cover we could get when we heard the artillery fire coming in. There was also small arms fire—rifles and machine guns—to our front. This caused the leaders to think they needed more automatic weapons, so they passed the word back to send up our BAR men. This order gave me pause, because we had been trained to fight as a rifle squad with all our assigned weapons, and sending our BAR men to the front broke the tactical integrity of the rear squads.

  Nevertheless, I sent Eisenhart, my BAR man, to the front. He disappeared up the street, and this was the last I caught sight of him for months. He was seriously wounded in the leg, and I didn’t see him until February or March of 1945, when he returned to the unit.

  As we were moving into the town, one of our men was killed by artillery fire. I don’t know why he was out on the street, but he had a reputation for looting the dead. He went so far as to take rings and very personal items. Each of us had a personal code of conduct that depended on our individual scruples, since senior officers, who were supposed to maintain a higher code of honor than ordinary men, were seldom at the front to supervise and enforce the terms of the Geneva Convention.

  My code was never to shoot an unarmed man, but in a fire-fight a wounded man still firing could be shot. Wounded enemy soldiers would not get priority medical treatment, but they did get equal treatment with Americans. I never physically abused prisoners, and never saw any man in Company F do so, either, no matter how critical it was to obtain information that could be of immediate help. As far as looting went, the best trophies were pistols, which we all wanted. Next were military decorations, followed by watches. Almost everyone looted living prisoners of their watches, but most of the men, myself included, would not rob the dead. I positively never saw anyone cut fingers off to take rings.

  When our one would-be looter fell on the way into Nijmegen, Dutch civilians ran out and covered his body with a blanket. As strange as it may seem, even though we were taking artillery fire, the Dutch were out on the sidewalks and streets to cheer and applaud as we entered the city. We were very concerned about their safety. Later on, as we got into Nijmegen, we didn’t see any Dutch civilians except for members of the Resistance, who were quite numerous and identified by orange armbands. They were extremely helpful to the Allied units; they guarded prisoners, acted as guides, and performed other duties. We attempted to arm them with captured German weapons.

  Colonel Vandervoort had given Company D the mission of securing the railroad bridge over the Waal River. Company D
split off from the rear of the battalion column and headed toward the railroad bridge. The remainder of the battalion, Companies E and F, continued towards the highway bridge. It was mid-afternoon or earlier. There was quite a bit of shooting up ahead, and as we got deeper into town, British tanks came up on the street behind us.

  It seemed the streets were becoming wider as we approached the river. There was at least one broad boulevard. Here the order of march broke up as Company E went to the right on one of the streets going toward the bridge. Company F continued a little farther, then made a right turn up another street. This put us in positions that we would hold for the next day or two during heavy fighting, with Company E on the right, and Company F to the left on a two-company front. Within our company formation, the 2d Platoon was on the right, the 3d was in the center, and the 1st was on the left.

  Because of the nature of the area in which we were fighting, we could not keep contact between platoons and companies. It wasn’t possible to wait for one company or platoon to catch up to the other; each one fought its own little battle in its own street. This left us open to attack on the left and right, but maintaining contact would have slowed us down.

  As we moved up toward the river, the streets running to the bridge went from left to right of our direction of march. We didn’t know it, but a traffic circle led into the approaches to the bridge just a few blocks down from the boulevard. This was an ideal situation for defense. The enemy probably figured they didn’t have enough troops to cover the area, so they pulled their main line of defense in close to the bridge. This, however, didn’t keep them from sending out patrols and miscellaneous groups into the houses on the streets that approached the bridge or traffic circle.

  As we crossed the streets that ran to our right, we took small arms fire. We double-timed across the boulevard, and continued up the right-hand side of the street for fifty to a hundred feet. There were homes on both sides, and a line of saplings ran between the street and the sidewalk. We flopped down and leaned with our backs to the houses.

  At the enemy end of the street, a German antitank weapon was dug in at the traffic circle. A British tank hesitated at the intersection we had just crossed. It was touch and go for the tankers, because they had to dash across the boulevard and hope they wouldn’t get hit. The tank turret and main tank weapon were turned to face down the street toward the traffic circle. As the tank crossed, its long axis was exposed, and the turret was at right angles to the direction of movement.

  The tank made a dash across the intersection, fired a round down the street, and managed to get across. It headed up our street with its turret still based at a right angle to the direction of movement. As it passed us, the muzzle of the main gun hit one of the saplings along the street and spun around clockwise, almost doing a 360 degree traverse. When the muzzle hit the tree, I think it pushed the gunner forward against the firing mechanism. The last thing I remember, the gun was coming in line with me when the damn thing fired.

  Chapter 21

  Nijmegen: The Battle for Hunner Park and Control of the South End of the Highway Bridge

  When the gun went off, the detonation was close enough to stun me. I was momentarily knocked out or lost my senses. I couldn’t hear much for the next few hours, but I recall coming to and immediately remembering what had occurred. Another odd thing happened, too: my watch stopped, and I don’t remember now if I ever got it running again. As for the tank, it just kept rolling down the street.

  Luckily, the round was armor piercing. If it had been high explosives, it could have been catastrophic, but it was already very bad. The second man to my right was killed instantly. He was such a recent replacement I can’t even remember his name. The man next to me was seriously wounded but survived. As soon as I came to I grabbed my first-aid packet and started to bandage him as best I could. We had been taught to use the first-aid packet of the wounded man rather than our own, to ensure we still had bandages if we were wounded ourselves. In the confusion I wasn’t thinking all that clearly, although my training did click in well enough for me to start working on him.

  I was too stunned to have many memories of our actions between the time the tanker hit us and late evening. There was no time for briefing. We immediately went on the move and came under heavy fire. It must have been late afternoon when we reached the vicinity of a traffic circle that led into the bridge. Only later did we discover the tactical importance of the streets we traversed to our front, which ran almost perpendicular to those that led to the approach to the bridge.

  We moved across a couple of streets, then made a right turn onto a street that led into Hunner Park. This was situated to the east or, from our point of view, to the left of the traffic circle as we approached the bridge. To the northwest of the large park was a built-up area, the Valkhof, that we called the “medieval castle.” The traffic circle to the right of the park controlled all the circulation heading onto the main road that crossed the bridge. The park was at a higher elevation than the bridge and the road that approached it. We made contact with British tanks two or three blocks from the park. Either the 1st Platoon’s area included the Valkhof, or this was our left boundary. This was not a single building, but a high bank running parallel to our line of advance once we got into the park. The Germans had fortifications or tunnels in the bank leading to the medieval structure.

  What we did on September 19 in Nijmegen flies in the face of all tactical considerations. We were about to fight in the dark with tank support in a built-up area where we didn’t know the layout of the streets. That we were ordered to do so is an indication of the crucial importance of the highway bridge over the Waal.

  My next memory occurs at dusk. Lieutenant Carroll was back in command of the platoon. He was with a British Army major who was giving us a short briefing. Two squads from the 3d Platoon had been assigned as support for the major’s unit. We were to follow close behind two tanks, giving them whatever protection we could. I think the mortar squads had set up to the rear, getting ready to fire into the park.

  I led the squad as we set off. We made a right turn and headed up the street. I later learned it led directly to Hunner Park, where SS panzer grenadiers had dug in their defenses. The British tanks were abreast of one another. We followed them as closely as we could, seeking maximum protection as we peered ahead into doors and windows. I don’t recall if I fired or saw any enemy soldiers, but they were there. As soon as we turned the corner, the tanks fired rapidly with their two .30-caliber MGs and 75mm cannon. The din was deafening.

  We got a lot of return fire from the head of the street, heavy small arms fire. In addition to machine guns, rifles and machine pistols, the Germans had dug in some 20mm anti-aircraft weapons. I don’t know if they were twins or quads, but when they’re shooting at you, it hardly matters. They fired tracer rounds with a ratio of about one to four. It was late enough for the tracers to show up well in the dark.

  The fire became so heavy that the tanks momentarily stopped. They weren’t damaged by the small arms and the 20mm fire, but it was a dangerous situation for the rifle squads. I got flatter than flat on the street, trying to get below a six-inch curb in a desperate search for cover. The fire immediately over my head cracked the air a foot or two above my body. I lay prone, hugging that curb for dear life, and I wasn’t the only one. I don’t think it gave us much protection except from our right front. If it hadn’t been for the pavement, I’d have started digging.

  After a few minutes, the tanks moved forward again. We jumped up and followed as closely as we could while still being able to look left and right for German foot troops with antitank weapons. We suffered some wounded. It’s almost impossible to describe the racket of four .30-caliber machine guns and two main tank guns firing rapidly. The British tankers loaded a full 250-round belt and fired non-stop until it was run through. We had been trained to fire bursts no longer than twenty rounds, and I thought they were going to have a lot of burned-out barrels when the shooting was over.<
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  We moved up the street for a block or a block and a half until we came to a burning building to our left front. The flames gave off quite a bit of light. Approximately fifty yards away, the tanks had come across a hasty roadblock made of saplings or the limbs of larger trees. The tankers would not advance or push the brush aside for fear of antitank mines hidden in the branches. Again the British officer appeared. He told us to “pip pip” round the tank and clear the brush and tree limbs.

  I was reluctant because of the tank episode earlier in the day. At night, a buttoned-up tank is practically blind. To advance around and move in front of those tanks would expose us to friendly fire as well as heavy fire from the enemy. We had almost gone forward enough for the traffic circle to come in view to our right front. It was a large area, and the Germans had dug it in with at least one 88, as well as other heavy weapons. There were also most definitely mobile 20mm guns.

  We nevertheless moved around to the left of the tank to clear away the debris. At that very instant, a German antitank gun let loose. The German gunner was anxious and missed. The fire came from our right front and went across in front of the tanks. The gunner probably couldn’t see them, but he had anticipated their movement into his field of fire.

  When an 88 fires on you at a distance of a hundred yards or less, you don’t get much time to react. The tanks reversed, moving to the rear as quickly as their engines could get them there. One thing, and one thing only, saved us from being crushed—my squad had already started around to the left of the tanks.

  Our relief was short-lived. The tanks’ surprise withdrawal left us totally without cover. There we were, unprotected in a close group, visible from the burning building to our left front. To make matters worse, we couldn’t take cover by running along the front of the buildings. All the houses on the street had a front yard of fifteen or twenty feet surrounded by a tall, spear-headed iron picket fence. There were only two ways to approach the buildings—over a fence, or up the sidewalk and into the house through the front door.