Deliver Us From Darkness

by Ian Gardner

  Two aircraft made emergency landings at Ghent, and a third, piloted by the 26-year-old 304th Squadron commander Maj Ken Glassburn, was forced to land in Brussels with an injured paratrooper still on board. This was an improvement on Normandy when, after dropping men from the 82nd Airborne, Glassburn had had to ditch his aircraft in the Channel off Utah beach. Squadron Operations Officer Capt James Brown did not fare any better and made an emergency landing at RAF Manston in Kent with a wounded navigator.

  For those preparing the next day’s glider mission back at Chilbolton, time passed remarkably quickly. At about 1630hrs the first distant specks began to appear in the gray skies to the east as the C-47s began to return. Although around 40 percent of the aircraft from the 442nd had been damaged, the troop carrier mission was by no means over.

  * Despite the success of the air drop many gliders and their tow planes were shot down. The aircraft seen crashing by Berta was piloted by 1st Lt Walter Hultgren from the 303rd TCG and had been towing a glider when it was hit by flak. Hultgren and his copilot Harold Horowitz bailed out moments before the flaming C-47 hit the ground, killing the radio operator and crew chief. By September 21, the aid station at Helena Hoeve farm was shut down. Afterwards the barn was used to house around 50 German prisoners, who were later relocated to the football fields at Son.

  * It is interesting to note that Rothwell’s plane, A/C No: 42-93096, is now on permanent display in the National D-Day Museum at New Orleans.

  5

  “Road to Eindhoven”

  September 17–18, 1944

  Following on behind Regimental HQ, 3rd Bn moved south along Rooijscheweg toward Son, which was only two miles away. The settlement was dominated by the Noord-Brabantse Sanatorium for Tuberculosis (TB) – known locally as the ‘Holy Heart of Jesus’ hospital. The impressive four-story building was built in 1914 by the Broeders Alexianen, a Catholic religious order from Belgium, and stood close to the Aloysius Boys School (now the Emilius school) and girls school (now La Sonnerie hotel and restaurant) north of the Wilhelmina Canal. By now the Regiment was fully aware that the crossing points at Houtens in the west and Hooidonk to the east had been destroyed on September 11, and so had focussed its full and undivided attention on the swing-bridge at Son.

  The locals were cheering and handing out beer, which was a surreal experience for the 506th, especially 3rd Bn, who were behind the main force when the shooting started. “We couldn’t really appreciate what was happening,” recalled Bob Dunning. “It sounds a little selfish now but we just wanted to keep moving and weren’t happy about having to stay in the water-filled ditches.”

  Up ahead, at around 1500hrs, 1st Bn were forced into a flanking maneuver around the western side of the town, while 2nd Bn attempted a direct assault on the bridge. The swing-bridge could be electronically rotated through 90 degrees on a central mechanism. When fully open, each side of the iron structure was protected by a wooden pier that acted as a crash barrier to passing boats. After Dolle Dinsdag, the tiny garrison at Son (which had its HQ in the church) had been enhanced to about 90 soldiers, including the Luftwaffe officer candidate school.

  There were at least two 88mm antiaircraft guns in the village, the primary role of which would have been to protect the canal from air attack. The first was located in fields 200 yards northwest of the main bridge, between the TB hospital and the canal. This 88mm gun seriously delayed 1st Bn’s advance, causing several casualties, including one of Ed Shames’ best friends, 2nd Lt George Retan (A Co), who was among the first to be killed. Before the invasion, another antiaircraft gun (fully mobile) had been placed in a pre-prepared position in front of the Aloysius Boys School, 300 yards from the bridge. From here the crew had a commanding view along the main road in both directions. After D Company knocked out the “Aloysius” gun with a bazooka, members of 2nd Bn discovered another gun site, along the canal bank to the west, which showed signs of recent occupation. One mile further along the waterway, next to what remained of the bridge at Houtens, was a third 88mm AAA gun which had been withdrawn to Best shortly after the drop.

  At around 1620hrs, as both battalions were converging on the Son bridge, most of the German force retreated to the southern bank, under a protective shield of machine-gun fire, before blowing up the objective. Several mines were placed beneath the central turning mechanism which, when detonated, tore the bridge in half. The huge explosion threw debris hundreds of feet into the air and some of the heavy wooden planks even landed on the gun site behind the tuberculosis hospital. Col Sink was beside himself with anger as Bob Dunning remembers: “I’ll never forget the look of shock and surprise on the colonel’s face as he took the cigarette from his mouth and threw it on the ground, calling the Germans all the cuss words under the sun!”

  It took ten minutes to overcome the enemy resistance on the northern bank. “After they blew the bridge we came under heavy fire from across the canal,” recalls Ralph Bennett, “which was the battalion’s first real head-to-head encounter with the enemy. I was part of a small group, comprising men mainly from 2nd Bn, who swam across to create a defensive firebase in a large orchard, from where we were able to push the Germans back.”

  Under the supervision of Gen Taylor and Col Sink, the engineers from C/326, assisted by Regt HQ Co, began clearing the twisted remains of the bridge, and depositing them on the southern bank. Wooden planks from the structure were then placed over a couple of rowing boats, to create a gangway, and tethered either side of the central wooden barrier using jump ropes. As the bridge repair work got underway, all three battalions were deployed in defensive positions around the vicinity.

  While the temporary crossing was being fashioned the Regiment needed to find a place to get supplies and vehicles safely across the canal. The answer was less than 60 yards away. East of the bridge the waterway widened, allowing ships and barges to turn. At this point the angle of the canal bank became shallower, creating an ideal ramp for vehicular access. In a nearby barn, hidden beneath bales of straw, the forward-thinking Dutch had stockpiled around 200 empty oil drums. Several sturdy rafts were built, each one using 16 barrels fastened to wooden beams and topped with planks.

  The repairs were completed by 1730hrs, but 3rd Bn were the last unit across the canal: “We crossed around midnight, guided by jump ropes acting as handrails,” recalls Pfc George McMillan (I Co 2 Ptn).

  The original idea to take Eindhoven by 2000hrs was now out of the question, and the 506th was forced to spend the night at the nearby hamlet of Bokt. A Company remained behind to protect the canal crossing, while 1st Bn went into reserve. The 2nd Bn and 3rd Bn were placed in defensive positions one mile from Son, astride the road at Bokt, facing south, with 2nd Bn on the left and 3rd Bn to the right (in the vicinity of Esp). James Martin’s 2 Ptn, from G Company, was selected to act as divisional security, while the rest of the company continued across the canal with the battalion.

  Divisional headquarters was established close to the bridge inside the Girls School at the nunnery, as Jim recalls: “Standing outside the front of the school was a very pretty lady. A couple of our guys were making lewd comments, thinking that she couldn’t understand. The young woman said absolutely nothing and didn’t even change her expression until one of the officers from division came over. She looked across, smiled at my two friends and responded in absolutely perfect English, clearly comprehending every single word they had said!”

  Several groups of enemy prisoners were brought in to divisional HQ for questioning. Such was the chaotic nature of the German defensive operation that some of the prisoners-of-war still had cinema tickets with them for a film that had been shown the previous day in Amsterdam.

  Just before 2100hrs, a row of houses close to the main road between Esp and Bokt was commandeered for command posts (CPs). “Major Horton took over one of the buildings from a middle-aged couple who were more than happy to oblige,” recalls Ray Skully. Derwood Cann thought that the bivouac area, in open fields south of the CP, was far too hastily
organized. “The troops were exhausted and many went to sleep without even ‘digging in.’ No fire plan was used and few patrols sent forward of the immediate area. Some of our people didn’t even know that the password for D+1 was ‘Uncle – Sam.’”

  The night was cold, misty, and wet, forcing Bill Galbraith to share his gas cape with replacement Pvt David Phillips (S-1). Bill and Dave had known each other since high school and had jumped together from the same plane as Capt Kiley. At around 0130hrs, vivid green tracer fire could be seen arching into the night sky to the west. During the early hours, Pfc Frank Lujan (I Co 3 Ptn) was sent out on a recon with several others. During the patrol they came under fire on a couple of occasions and just before dawn, S/Sgt Frank Rick was killed, quite possibly by friendly fire. Several enormous explosions were heard coming from the city as the enemy blew up an electrical substation along Boschdijk, containing 10,000 liters of oil, and the Deutsche Reichspost (German Postal Service Office) on Dommelstraat.

  During the night Maj Horton received orders from Regiment to be prepared to attack Eindhoven early the next morning. The plan was to advance the four miles into the city, with 3rd Bn spearheading the advance. The following morning the first jeeps and horse-drawn carts began to arrive after being ferried across the canal on the makeshift rafts.

  Assaulting Eindhoven

  At 0600hrs on Monday September 18, 3rd Bn kicked off the regimental assault on Eindhoven. The enemy were already withdrawing from the city to the southwest in an attempt to stem the British advance. Forming an extended line straddling the highway, H and I Co led the assault with G and HQ Co following behind in reserve.

  Jim Melhus and Audrey Lewallen decided to test their machine gun and thought that a rabbit scampering around a nearby field would make a convenient target: “We fired a short burst at the unsuspecting animal and in the process managed to scare the heck out of everyone around us!” Bringing up the rear, accompanied by the Dutch, were 2nd Bn, Regt HQ and Regt HQ Co, and, last but not least, 1st Bn. The commander of 1st Bn, Maj LaPrade, had been given temporary responsibility for the regiment.

  Everything and anything that was available, from ladies’ bicycles to prams, was used by the Americans to transport equipment. Farm carts were enthusiastically driven by local farmers and many self-proclaimed “resistance” workers had been enlisted to carry heavy equipment and ammunition.

  Capt John Kiley and 1st Lt Cann gathered their respective departments and started south towards Woensel. The initial advance had been split into four phase lines with the fourth being Vlokhoven, a suburb of Woensel. In 1944, the main road was known as Eindhovenscheweg; outside the city it was fashioned from compacted sand, but from Vlokhoven it was brick-paved with wide sidewalks. “We were spread out along both sides of the road about 15 minutes ahead of the battalion,” recalled Bill Galbraith. “I was on the left and Kiley the right; ultimately it was our job to locate any potential enemy threats and maintain cohesion between H and I Company by radio.”

  As the advance party moved out, the two rifle companies deployed into the potato and beetroot fields on either side of the road. Along the route at regular intervals were air-raid trenches that had been dug for public use, and signs reading ‘Nur Nachts Fahren’ (German for ‘Drive only at night’).The men also noticed that all the streetlights and many trees by the road had been painted with thick white bands to aid with night vision during the blackout.

  At 0730hrs, Kiley’s patrol had not gone far when it came under sporadic rifle fire 600 yards north of Vlokhoven. “Although one member of our group was wounded,” recalls Cann, “we took cover in a nearby ditch and sent a contact report back to battalion via our SCR300 radio operator – assessing the enemy strength over on our left to be possibly one platoon.”

  At that moment both assault companies came under fire with H Co 1 Ptn bearing the brunt east of the highway. In contrast to what was happening up front, Jim Melhus and his colleagues from HQ Co were relaxing and drinking cups of fresh milk handed to them by a local farmer. As 1 Ptn worked their way through the fields near Tempel, they came to a tall thick hedge. The barrier was almost impenetrable except for a hole about the width of a man in the center. “First to go through the opening was our lead scout Pvt Charles (Charlie) Kier, who was immediately shot in the chest,” recalls Hank DiCarlo. Taking a deep breath DiCarlo flung himself through the gap, narrowly missing Kier, and landed heavily on the other side in a deep drainage ditch. Kier was gasping for air, due to a gaping exit wound in his back. In front of Hank was a large field full of potatoes. “One after another, amid sporadic bursts of enemy machine-gun fire, about a dozen of our guys came diving through the hedge, including aid man Pfc Lloyd Carpenter. Moments later, as Lloyd was patching Charlie up, a couple of medics from the battalion came tumbling into the ditch, carrying a stretcher. After Charlie was secured they began to manhandle him back through the hedge. When one aid man inadvertently stood up we cringed but nothing happened. The enemy gun team allowed the first aid guys to carefully slide Charlie to safety without firing a single shot.”

  While this was happening, Lt Bolte noticed a small section of exposed wire fence further along the hedgerow, and decided it was an ideal spot to gain entry to the potato field. The NCOs told him it was foolhardy but, perhaps anxious to prove himself, Rudie took no notice. Grabbing hold of the wire with both hands, he bravely swung forward into the field, whereupon a single bullet pierced the front of his helmet, killing him instantly.

  Back in the potato field, the men were fighting for their lives as Hank DiCarlo vividly recalls:

  Immediately to our front was a building, and directly behind that an open-ended barn and two enormous haystacks. Lieutenant Forney, myself, Pvt James “Sharkey” Tarquini, Pfc Bill Briggs, Pfc Godfrey “Jon” Hanson, and Pfc Glenn Sweigart were attempting to outflank the machine gun when we came under fire from somewhere behind the haystacks. The house was empty but as we moved closer to the barn the shooting intensified. Next to the house was a large pile of bricks. As I darted behind the stack, a ricochet hit me and sliced open the flesh on my collarbone. Lt Forney was in front with Sharkey, when he was shot and collapsed, while the rest of us returned fire. After seeing Forney go down, Sharkey displayed incredible courage and sprinted into the house. Using his rifle as a battering ram, he smashed through a rear window, ran around the side of the building and successfully neutralized the enemy.

  Afterwards, Tarquini, who was from Boston, explained to us what had happened. At the back of the house there was a three-foot-high packing crate, pushed against a wall under the window. Holding his M1 across his body, the diminutive Tarquini jumped onto the crate and catapulted through the glass frame. Once outside, he ran into an alleyway where he killed four Germans, who had been shooting at us from behind one of the haystacks – truly amazing. Rough and ready, a superb scout, Sharkey was never officially recognized for his bravery on that day or any other. We always pulled his chain by saying that he was just “too darn ugly” to get a medal.

  Second platoon was right behind 1 Ptn when Pfc Charles Deem was killed and squad leader Sgt Bill Cumber was riddled across the chest by machine-gun fire. “As we were waiting for medic Lloyd Carpenter to arrive, Cumber told me ‘he was hit bad and having trouble breathing’ but although seriously wounded he survived,” recalls Ken Johnson.

  Meanwhile, anxious to keep up the momentum, 1st Lt Roy Kessler came forward with 1/Sgt Gordon Bolles to where Bolte had been trying to slide under the fence. “We realized that the enemy machine gun had the spot zeroed and I tried to stop Kessler from doing the same thing as Lieutenant Bolte.” recalled Bolles. “As he reached out and grabbed the wire, the enemy gun opened up, hitting him in both arms.” Kessler returned to duty several months later only to be killed during the Battle of the Bulge.

  “Being the assistant for 3 Ptn, the company called me over to take command after Rudie and Dave got hit,” recalls Bob Stroud. “When I arrived most of the guys were still pinned down in the ditch but there was ano
ther channel running to the right, along which S/Sgt Frank Padisak had managed to crawl. I told Sgt Don Zahn to lay down a base of 60mm mortar fire and before we started to move, organized some additional fire support from a soldier with a Browning Automatic Rifle (BAR).We were just getting ready to attack when someone told me that Padisak had silenced the enemy gun – which was the best news I’d had all day.” The bravery of James “Sharkey” Tarquini and Frank “the Slovak” Padisak clearly won the morning but the platoon hated to lose Rudie Bolte and Dave Forney at such an early stage. Forney was so seriously injured that it took him several years to recover from his wounds. Bob Stroud stayed, and capably led 1 Ptn through Holland and the remainder of the war. “Dark-haired and athletic, Lt Stroud was seemingly unflappable,” recalled Hank DiCarlo. “He knew the score, and believed strongly in an aggressive patrolling policy.”

  It seemed to John Kiley that the battalion’s advance along Vlokhovenseweg was fragmenting into chaos. Several accidents happened as the soldiers misunderstood what they were being told by the Dutch. In one incident, 26-year-old Adri Luykx was shot dead, despite the fact that he was clearly wearing a white PAN armband. Tragically for Adri, the only officially sanctioned armband at that time was orange, with the word “ORANJE” stencilled on in black letters.

  As if to make matters worse, all radio contact had been lost with Maj Horton, whose last known position was with G Company, which was at the rear and still in reserve. “The captain sent me back with a clear message for Major Horton,” recalls Bill Galbraith. “Kiley wanted him to order H Company to get the hell back on line or the entire battalion would be flanked! I nodded and ran north along the sidewalk for about 100 yards, where I bumped into my old buddy from I Company, Jim Brown, who was now a radio operator with 2 Ptn. I figured it would be quicker for Jim to make the call, as if Major Horton had personally given him the order. He grinned and got on the net to H Company.” Brown had just finished speaking when a bullet smashed into the handset only inches from his face. “It scared the hell out of me,” recalls Galbraith, “but Jim seemed completely unshaken as he unslung his rifle, said ‘See ya later’ and walked away.”