A Bridge Too Far

by Martin Bowman

  Chapter 2

  Berlin

  ‘In the evening we were given orders for the withdrawal, to start at 2145, with our company forming the rearguard. After the briefing a very gentle, elderly gentleman in whose house our company was established, approached me and asked in perfect English, ‘Are you leaving’: ‘No,’ I replied, ‘just moving to another place.’ Such is war, but I still feel a shit about it.’

  Sergeant Joe Smith, 3 Platoon, 21st Independent Para Company.

  On Monday the fighting in the Oosterbeek perimeter was in its seventh day and the battle was reaching its climax with the Germans launching their heaviest attack yet. Even Father Bruggeman at the Mill Hill Fathers’ House noted that ‘this morning they used the artillery for the first time here. ‘The noise is not that bad; a long hum. I visited the elderly in the basement. The atmosphere was very stuffy, but the people felt good and rather safe. Our English friends were caught. We were afraid for them and us for feeding them, but the Germans were very happy with their prisoners.’ There were by now 110 artillery pieces, in addition to many mortar tubes, firing into the perimeter. Under this fire support, groups of enemy infantry started to infiltrate at many points between the depleted strongholds. Some were already inside the perimeter and would be able to ambush or harass the withdrawal. One group of about 30 Germans had been in position for a day or more in the woods 200 yards distant and attempts to clear them out had failed, but they had been kept quiet by medium artillery fire directed at close quarters by Captain Taylor, one of the artillery forward observation officers. Another group between Division HQ and Airlanding Brigade HQ was dealt with by a party of glider pilots under Major Dale. The Germans, though exhausted, were now being reinforced with fresh troops - some of them inexperienced - and with ammunition and supplies and artillery, mortars and tanks. On Sunday Army Tank Battalion 506, consisting of 60 Mark VI Tiger tanks had begun to arrive in Arnhem. Forty-five of these went south to Nijmegen. The others were sent to the perimeter to attack the high ground of Hemelsche Berg. Their ultimate aim was to drive right through to Westerbouwing while Von Allworden’s Kampfgruppe of the 9th SS Panzer drove across the base of the perimeter and cut off the airborne troops from the river. The offensive was launched out of the South East suburbs of Oosterbeek at about 1000 against the northern part of this sector. But the groups of weakly held strong-points still held out, even though some ground and some houses had been overrun. The gunners of the Light Regiment, especially of No 1 Battery, were fighting as infantry with their 75mm howitzers now being used at close range over open sights at tanks and houses. SS-Obersturmbannführer Walther Harzer, commanding the 9th SS Panzer said, ‘The more the perimeter shrank the more stubbornly the British troops defended every heap of ruins and every inch of ground.’

  The British airborne still fought on even though they had lost more than half their numbers through casualties and food, water, ammunition and sleep were in short supply. A major attack by tanks and infantry was mounted during the morning against the Lonsdale Force positions, with the aim of cutting off the main body of the Division from the river; this attack at first achieved some success. Driving in from the north-east, tanks broke through the Glider Pilot posts, came in behind the South Staffords and overran the No 1 Battery gun positions. The infantry, glider pilots and gunners fought back at close quarters with PIATs if ammunition could be found and with grenades and tanks were destroyed or stopped. A heavy concentration of fire from the medium and heavy guns of XXX Corps was brought down on the area of No 2 Light Battery and these, together with counter-attacks by the South Staffords and Glider Pilots, eventually drove the enemy back. Initially, the Glider Pilots and South Staffords bore the brunt of the German attack. The gun area of No 2 Light Battery was soon completely overrun by enemy tanks. There was only one 75-mm howitzer still serviceable. Sergeant Daly of ‘B’ troop and his crew manhandled the howitzer and at 70 yards range fired at a Tiger tank. A second Tiger, attempting to pass the first, jolted it, whereupon it started into life again and opened heavy machine-gun fire against the sergeant and his anti-tank gun. Everyone dived for cover, but Sergeant Daly crawled back to the gun, laid it and sent the tank up in flame with his first round. Lieutenant Adrian Donaldson with Lance-Bombardier Joe Dickson ran across a hundred yards of open ground and manned a Polish six-pounder anti-tank gun, of which the crew had been killed. This the two men brought into action, but after firing eight or nine rounds the gun received a direct hit from the tank, which stunned Donaldson. On coming to; he and his bombardier made their way back to one of the guns of ‘C’ troop and maintained it in action until all the ammunition was expended but not before they had hit and broken one of the tank’s tracks. Dickson then sought and found a PIAT and with this weapon went on with the battle.

  In the South Staffords positions, A Troop No 1 Light Battery which had been part of the front line since Thursday, was overrun by three Tiger tanks. The enemy poured into the perimeter and across the western withdrawal route, cutting the divisional area almost in two before being driven off by the few remaining 75-mm guns fired at a range of no more than 50 yards over open sights. RHQ of the Light Regiment near Oosterbeek church was almost surrounded and had to withdraw to No 3 Battery. There were countless other infiltrations elsewhere and on one occasion a company of Panzer grenadiers occupied a wood less than 250 yards to the South of the Hartenstein in a direct line between him and the guns at Nijmegen. Although they were so close, Lieutenant Colonel Loder-Symonds the Commander Royal Artillery (CRA) called for a barrage against them by the 155-mm guns of 419 Heavy Battery and from the mouth of his dug-out at Divisional Headquarters he directed these guns, which were at a range of 19,000 yards, giving the map reference and calling for a ranging round which landed close to the target. Then after giving an adjustment, Loder-Symonds ordered a concentration of all four guns and watched with satisfaction as the shells fell amongst the enemy. This very brave man - a tall, thin figure - will always remain in many men’s mind, standing in nonchalant conversation while every sort of enemy missile was bursting around him, unnoticed by him - but not by his probably reluctant companions. Some thought that he really liked a battlefield. Into his 32 years he packed a record of military experiences and acts of gallantry that were seldom surpassed in the history of the Royal Regiment of Artillery.7 For the rest of that day and night ‘there seemed’ to Padre Watkins ‘as many of their shells landing in our area as outside it. We did not enjoy it, but it certainly sent the German tanks home.’ ‘About three o’clock’, Lieutenant Stevenson recalled, ‘things began to get really hot. There was really heavy sniping from close range coupled with extremely heavy mortar fire which made our positions practically untenable. After considerable casualties we decided we must move further back still. We began to move and were caught in the open by savage fire from self-propelled guns.’

  At one point German infantry were running down Weverstraat towards the church and at least one Tiger tank got as far as Mevrouw Kate ter Horst’s white house near Oosterbeek Laag church. It drove up to the house and fired a shot straight through it. Bombardier ‘Scan’ Bolden with the Padre, Reverend Thorne, walked out with a piece of white cloth to remonstrate. They went up to the tank and ‘Scan’, in the Padre’s words ‘giving the most comprehensive display of East London invective’, demanded that the tank commander withdraw at once, as the house was in use as an aid post. The German drove his tank away. Then finally one dawn there was an unusual quiet all around.

  ‘Things started up pretty early on the Monday morning, with the tanks coming down the road yet again’ wrote Mike Dauncey. ‘I felt that if they did not meet some opposition the enemy armour would go straight through and cut off the rest of the division. As the morning wore on the ominous squeak of enemy tanks began to get louder and louder. We had no PIATs, but one of the parachutists gave me a gammon bomb, something I had never seen before. To show some opposition, two of us went up Weverstraat through the back gardens. I waited near the road, while my comp
anion guarded me from attack from behind. Two large tanks made their way slowly towards us, fortunately without any infantry, but the noise of their tracks and machine guns firing was menacing. When the lead tank was level with me, I ran forward and threw the bomb. It landed slightly short of the tank’s tracks; there was a lengthy pause and I began to wonder if it was ever going to explode. Then suddenly there was an enormous blast, followed by a huge cloud of dust which hid the tank - then absolute silence. When the dust cleared the tank looked much as before, but it did not move again. I just hoped and prayed it had done enough damage. Certainly it stayed stationary. When I looked around, though, my comrade had gone. As I had only a Luger pistol I went back to my house, which had been evacuated in my absence. Further down Weverstraat I joined up with some airborne soldiers, where we made a stand. The enemy had broken through on the other side of the road and were running towards the church. We engaged them with a Bren gun and Luger pistols and we threw a few grenades in their direction and they threw one or two at us. Slowly but surely the enemy crept towards us and I was hit in the thigh by a bullet that fortunately just went straight in and out. It certainly made me fall but it didn’t break my leg.

  ‘Wandering around the battlefield had become a very bad idea. On one side of the road the German infantry were very close, so we got into a slit trench expecting them to rush us; instead I suddenly heard a noise to my left and looked down to see a German stick grenade beside me. It exploded in my face and broke my jaw in two places. Amazingly I could still think all right, but I couldn’t very easily speak and my face was a mess. Two paratroopers took me to Kate ter Horst’s house. Inside, the house was full of people. There were hundreds of wounded men strewn around inside it and fifty-seven dead in the garden. It was so full that my two comrades laid me on the lawn and went back to the battle. I instantly fell asleep. During the afternoon it started to rain and I woke up soaking and finding myself beside a dead soldier. I felt rather ashamed but, anyway I pulled the blanket off the poor dead chap next to me and put it over me to keep myself a bit dry. Inside, the house was completely full of wounded, including the MO. However, a blanket on the floor was a luxury. My jaw had been broken in two places and it was difficult to speak. Any liquid I took resulted in some coming out through the hole in my chin, an amazing sight according to those who saw it.

  ‘The Padre and orderlies were extremely brave. Some of them went out to stop the enemy tanks from firing at the RAP; this no doubt saved many lives.

  ‘Later in the evening the battle had died down. We still held the perimeter. Someone opened the door of the house and I made enough noise to let the person know I was there. To my relief, he pulled me into the hall. It was somewhat perilous just lying on the lawn in the middle of the battle with mortar and artillery fire all around you.’

  Urquhart now issued orders to most unit or detachment commanders for a conference at 1100. Other officers would be told at 1400 and all soldiers at 1500. When Brigadier Hicks arrived he was out of breath. German infantry had occupied several houses between his headquarters and the Park Hotel and when they had been thrown out by a squad of glider pilots, a Tiger tank had driven up to the gate of the headquarters. He had had to wait for it to be put out of action before leaving. He ran across the churned lawn of the Hartenstein Hotel, which for days had been carefully watched by an expert sniper and was now covered by a Spandau that raked it at the least sign of activity; and he came down the cellar steps, ‘looking a good deal more dishevelled than usual but calm as ever’. Lieutenant Colonel Ian Murray, Commander of the 1st Wing of the Glider Pilot Regiment and - as Brigadier Hackett had been badly wounded in the stomach on Friday - now commander also of the eastern side of the perimeter, was already there. Within a few minutes Loder-Symonds, Mackenzie and Myers were also sitting round the map-covered table beside the empty wine racks and the piles of dusty, broken bottles. ‘We are to clear out to-night’, Urquhart told his gathered officers. ‘We will move back on a timed programme by two routes. In general those farthest from the river will start first. I don’t expect that either of the routes will be free from enemy interference; but they are the best available to us.’

  Major Powell returned to Divisional HQ for orders, but by this time the area was largely under siege by enemy snipers and he had to sprint across the danger area and dive through a window into HQ. He was told that the Division would be withdrawing that night, which came as a shock to him. He described this news as ‘an appalling blow. I thought of all the men who had died and then I thought the whole effort had been a waste’.

  Urquhart had called Charles Mackenzie, his Chief of Staff, to work out the finer details, he said: ‘You know how they did it at Gallipoli, Charles? Well, we’ve got to do something like that’. Many years before, Urquhart had studied the classic withdrawal from this First World War conflict in extensive detail for a promotion examination. He remembered how great care was taken to maintain the illusion of defiance until the last moment, meanwhile the forward positions were thinned out and the force was evacuated from the beaches in good order, whilst the enemy were completely oblivious to it. The Division would withdraw from top to bottom, with those in the north leaving their positions first and so on until everyone was out. ‘Berlin’ was simple: a silent thinning out to start soon after dark with troops in the northern sector to withdraw first. There would be two routes to the river, starting from RVs either side of the Hartenstein and running down about 200 yards east and west of this position here. The eastern route would pass 150 yards west of Oosterbeek church. Colonel Myers’ Engineers would be responsible for the last stretches across the open meadows by the river and Myers was also to be responsible for the ferry service. His sappers would mark the routes with white tapes or parachute cord and glider pilots were to act as guides along the routes which in difficult places would be marked by parachute tape. Evasive action was to be taken rather than returning fire. Groups of soldiers would be led to the river by parachute cord attached to the leader and those following. Bofors 40mm anti-aircraft guns firing bursts of red tracer shells from south of the river would help to indicate the outer limits of the ‘safe lanes’.

  Working to a detailed fire plan devised by HQ Royal Artillery at Division HQ, a heavy concentration of fire from the XXX Corps and 43rd Division guns, mortars and machine guns would be brought down on the surrounding German positions throughout the night to keep their heads down. Men would be told to clean their weapons and to reduce noise march with socks worn over their boots and equipment muffled with rags and sacking and the torn trousers of the dead. They would then cross the river in boat-load parties of 14. They would not be told of the evacuation until the last minute. Orders were issued for the troops to start thinning out at 2015 and to RV at HQ 4th Parachute Brigade near the Hartenstein.

  The Germans that had infiltrated into the perimeter were expected to be encountered on the routes, but these were to be by-passed if possible. Units were given times to cross the line of the Benedendorpsweg, with the first to cross at 2145. On arrival at the river troops were to lie down and await their turn to be called forward by Royal Engineer Officers to embark at the two crossing points. Crossing would start at 2200. Boats would be provided by 43rd Division Royal Engineers and by Royal Canadian Engineers. The Military Police guard on the prisoners’ cage on the tennis courts would silently retire at 0130. All the wounded, together with all doctors and chaplains still alive were to remain at Divisional Headquarters, under the care of Lieutenant Derrick Randall RAMC to be taken into captivity by the Germans.

  ‘Monday seemed much as usual till early evening’ recalled Randall ‘when a staff officer came to inform me of the decision to evacuate across the Rhine that night and ‘presenting the General’s compliments’ asked me to stay behind and look after the wounded. I accepted this as necessary. Last thing before leaving, he bought me a map showing the evacuation routes, so that I would be better able to find and deal with the casualties of the withdrawal. That night the regimental ai
d post was relatively empty for during the day we had evacuated many of our patients through the lines. The noise however gradually increased as XXX Corps artillery put down an extremely heavy barrage to accompany the more sporadic ‘local’ firing, with the appropriate German response. To me it seemed not only to be getting louder but also to be coming more on top of me. Eventually there was a lull in the casualty inflow, presumable because of the evacuation from the area around, so I took the opportunity to lie down on the floor. I must have been so tired that, although the noise was getting louder and nearer until I was expecting it to completely encompass me, I fell fast asleep.’

  Colonel Payton-Reid wrote:

  ‘My own most trying task was breaking the news to our Regimental Aid Post personnel because I had to ask them to remain behind with the wounded, who could not, of course, possibly move. The Medical Officer, the Padre and the others took it very well and readily agreed to give up their chance of freedom for the sake of their charges. It was arranged that some of the walking wounded should accompany us but this arrangement somehow fell through, which was probably fortunate since our journey turned out to be a most testing one, even for fit men.’