by Ian Gardner
The main railway building south of the tracks had been previously occupied by the stationmaster and his family. On the wall adjacent to the entrance was a large white panel emblazoned with “16” in black.*
“The CO also directed that one section of four guns, led by sergeants Garland ‘Tex’ Collier and Charles ‘Chuck’ Easter, be attached to H Company and the other section deployed around the station,” recalls Wedeking. “Chuck had only recently taken over from Tom Simms, who’d been commissioned and posted to 2/506. Our fields of fire were very limited, except for the open space down the railway tracks and the area near the station. To supplement our firepower we also had a bazooka team and one .50 cal machine gun (from the 81st Antiaircraft Bn) working alongside us.”
Willem “Wim” de Bosch, a 24-year-old living with his parents 200 yards due north of the station, had a couple of squads from the MG Ptn living in his barn. Wim’s older sister, Dirkje, was more than happy to cater for the soldiers who included Dutch irregular, Leo Jeucken, who had been with HQ Company since Eindhoven. When Dirkje teased Jeucken about his stature, he jokingly told her “that being small was a positive advantage, especially when it came to dodging bullets!”
As the Germans were holding the high ground on the northern bank of the Veluwe, 2nd Bn moved north to the Neder Rijn, with Battery “F” from the 81st Antiaircraft Bn. They were to defend a wide front along the dijk from Opheusden to Heteren. The 3rd Bn took over a sector 2,000 yards long, facing west from the northern edge of Opheusden, extending south through the railway station towards Dodewaard. “We had been made aware by the Dutch that the enemy were sending out two-man patrols into no man’s land to check on our activities,” recalls Clark Heggeness. “However, at the time we couldn’t see or observe them from our own positions.” Joe Doughty never forgot the parting words of a British major, as he handed over the CP at the Hervormde schoolhouse, on the northern edge of Opheusden. “It was something along the lines of ‘Good luck Captain, I can guarantee that you Yanks won’t hear a single shot fired in anger.’”
With G Company covering the northern flank, H Company minus 2 Ptn – who were in reserve around Boelenham farm – dug in at the railway station on the southern edge of town. I Company held a small pocket of land north of the Waal, and established a CP at the jam factory alongside the dijk at Dodewaard – where the company made full use of the extra “sugar rations.”
Enemy activity increased immediately after the battalion took over, and the Germans made several unsuccessful attempts to cross the Rijn. This was followed by a series of sporadic artillery barrages that for the most part were directed along the front lines of 3rd Bn. “We were once again on British rations, which were absolutely dreadful,” recalls Bob Harwick. “It was pitiful to see our GIs begging cigarettes from the Limeys. I had to look away, when I saw a Sherman tank pass by with a British crew, and heard one of our guys saying, ‘Got any gum chum?’”
H and G Company were sharing the front line, as 1st Lt Alex Andros explains: “We were to tie in with G Company over on our right, whose line was about 400 yards west of the main road [Dalwagenseweg] that ran through town. I was working with Capt Walker to connect that line from G back to first platoon, who were behind us at the station. The position Walker initially suggested was completely open and flat with little cover to our front. This would have left us way too vulnerable, so I told him ‘Either we move forward or we move back.’ Walker decided on the former and I butted my guys neatly in with G Company, down to the railroad tracks.” Andros’ 3 Ptn were positioned along Smachtkamp, a dirt road that meandered from the northern edge of Opheusden down to a small railroad crossing at Parallelweg in the south.
The platoon was based in and around a small abandoned building designated “Blokpost 17,” which had previously belonged to a signalman who controlled the nearby crossing point.* Cheap and functional, the compact two-storey building, built in 1882, comprised a kitchen and living room on the ground floor, along with a tiny cellar/pantry. A steep narrow spiral staircase led upstairs to an open-plan area, naturally lit by two skylights built into the low roof.
On the morning of October 5, the German 363. Volksgrenadier Division launched a ferocious attack in an attempt to break through and seize the bridge at Nijmegen. The vicious and uncompromising assault involved Infanterie-Regiments (IR) 957, 958, and 959 along with Infanterie-Fortress Battalion 1409.
At 0300hrs, enemy troops from IR 957 and IR 958 began probing the main 3rd Bn front line. IR 958 found a weakness along the southern side of the railway embankment, between 1 Ptn and 3 Ptn from H Company. Two hours later the Germans launched the first in a series of fanatical attacks along the “murder mile” that would last for nearly three days.
Before the battle, elements of the MG Ptn had been allocated outpost positions between 1 Ptn and 3 Ptn. Bill Wedeking was concerned that the first section, under Chuck Easter, which included corporals Fayez Handy, Andy Bryan, John Hermansky, and Nathan Bullock, had been deployed into isolated outposts far ahead of the main LOD without any proper infantry support. “In situations such as this, when my crews were attached to a rifle company, I had absolutely no control over what they were doing or told to do,” recalls Wedeking. “Only on rare occasions such as this, were the guns actually deployed by the rifle platoon leaders themselves.”
Due to the lack of manpower in the first squad, Dutch teenager Leo Jeucken had volunteered to carry ammunition for Cpl Bullock, who was dug in about 50 yards north of Handy, on G Company’s southern flank. Pvt Darvin Lee was next to Tex Collier and recalls:
Tex was sharing a slit trench with one of the airborne engineers who had been brought in to bolster our defenses when the first big barrage arrived [ahead of the main assault]. Cpl Andy Bryan and myself were only a few feet away in shallow shell scrapes, when the engineer was hit in the head by shrapnel and started screaming, “I’m gonna die – I’m gonna die.” I calmly pointed out that I’d sustained a similar injury in Normandy, so there was no real need to panic. The guy calmed down enough for Tex and Andy to take him across to the temporary aid station [Blokpost 17] over by H Company. By the time they returned, the volume of mortar fire had increased and a shell exploded a few feet away from our exposed positions. We all commented how close it was and the last words I heard Tex say was something like” Yeah, but a hell of a way to go!” Another mortar landed even closer, covering me in debris, followed by another that exploded directly on top of Collier. His foxhole was covered by smoke and I called out to see if he was OK, but there was no answer. Crawling over, I could see that the back of his jacket was shredded and torn. As I lifted his head, blood trickled from Collier’s mouth and it was then that I realized he was gone.
During the same barrage, Handy’s gun, which was closest to the tracks, was knocked out and his gunner, Pvt Clyde Benton, hit by shrapnel. Pfc Morris Thomas stepped in on Bullock’s gun, while Nathan helped Benton to the aid station. With enemy infantry advancing closer, Leo Jeucken crawled forward to help feed the ammunition while Thomas continued firing. Moments later, Thomas was wounded in the back and was forced to abandon his post. Leo bravely took over, and held off the enemy advance until mortally wounded by German small-arms fire. One of the men offered to carry Thomas over to the aid station, but he refused. Moments later, Bullock returned and threw Thomas over his shoulder. Dodging bullets, he carried his friend to the aid station before heading to the rear with H Company. As the surviving machine-gunners pulled back, Andy Bryan took Collier’s most cherished souvenir from his body – a 9mm German Luger pistol.
The Germans attack
On the night prior to the main attack (October 4/5), German patrols had fired submachine guns and flares along the LOD in order to solicit a response. The battalion had had strict orders not to return fire and reveal its positions. “I had kept my guys awake all night after a German fighting patrol tried to probe our lines,” remembers Sgt Frank Kleckner, from H Co 3 Ptn. “It was so dark that we didn’t even notice that the enemy wer
e in the vicinity until they were within 30 yards of our positions.”
Bob Stroud and his 1 Ptn were positioned several hundred yards behind “Blokpost 17,” straddling the tracks at the railway station, with one squad led by Sgt Lou Vecchi to the right (north) and another led by newly promoted Sgt Hank DiCarlo on the left (south). Supported by Sgt Bob Martin’s 60mm mortar squad, the platoon had established its CP in a heavily fortified concrete pillbox that had previously formed part of the Dutch Grebbe defense line in 1940.
During the night of October 4/5, 1st Lt Clark Heggeness and H Co’s 2 Ptn were being held in reserve as Ken Johnson recalls: “At about four in the morning, we received an alert that we were about to be shelled. We managed to evacuate across a nearby road, just as the barrage began… A couple of rounds fell among us and I was no more than six feet away from Pfc Charles Stenbom, when he lost both legs in the blast. I can still hear the pitiful high-pitched scream that Stenbom let out, almost like an animal, it was truly terrible. From here we were hastily ordered forward to positions alongside the railway adjacent to Lt Andros.”
The men quickly dug in along Eldijk, a 7 feet-high flood barrier to the west of Dodewaard that ran due south from the Linge Canal. “The artillery we experienced that morning was unbelievable,” recalls Johnson. “Pvt Bert Bailey was near the top of the dike when a shell exploded and blew his head clean off his shoulders. Still complete with helmet, Bailey’s head rolled down the embankment and stopped at my feet. It was a horrifying experience staring down into his expressionless face, knowing that only minutes before we had been talking to each other.”
Earlier, Heggeness had sent a patrol from the second squad forward to a small wooden footbridge along the canal, with instructions to hold it at all costs. Pfc Alex “Zanny” Spurr, a 22-year-old from Carbon, Indiana, recalls the disaster that then unfolded: “Close by was a well-constructed stone barn with walls four feet thick that became our CP. During the ensuing attack, the enemy managed to swim across the waterway and get behind the outpost.” Hard hit during the assault, the patrol lost privates Nick Le Cursi and Randel Pettis, who were both replacements after Normandy.
Now virtually surrounded, the men had no choice but to take cover in the stone barn, where they had a field telephone wired back to platoon HQ. After a frantic conversation the patrol was ordered to delay the Germans for as long as possible, giving 2 Ptn time to withdraw and regroup with the remainder of the battalion. After an hour or so of heavy fighting, the situation became hopeless and, low on ammunition, the men had no alternative but to surrender. Spurr continues: “We abandoned our weapons and came out with our hands raised. After being thoroughly searched, we were taken to the German lines. Upon arrival our belts and the top buttons of our trousers were removed. An officer looked through all the mussette bags and took every blanket he could find but surprisingly never touched any of our spare clothing or rations. After interrogation we were held in what appeared to be an old wine store with a door at either end.”
During their first night in captivity, Spurr and his friends were amazed to learn that one of the guards was a US citizen from New York. The soldier told the prisoners that he had been in Germany studying medicine when war was declared. “Over the next few nights we continued talking,” recalls Spurr. “The man had a friend who had been slightly wounded and made it clear that they both wanted out of their current situation. We proposed that we could take him and his colleague back to American lines if he set us all free. The next night, when the guy turned up with his buddy, we knew that the plan was on. Using drainage ditches, we carefully waded back towards where we thought the Allied lines should be. After moving all night, it began to get light, so we decided to hide until the following evening. Finally we reached friendly forces and were directed to the H Company CP, where we explained to Captain Walker about our two German friends.” Walker was pleased to see the team and congratulated them on defending the footbridge to the last round. He thought it was an incredibly selfless thing to do and made sure that the two ‘prisoners’ were well treated before promising to write everyone involved up for bravery awards. Spurr was later awarded the Distinguished Service Cross for his efforts.
Total war
On the level crossing next to the stationhouse was a flat-roofed wooden tool shed, which had been providing accommodation for Hank DiCarlo and his squad.
As it was getting light, we heard gunfire coming from the direction of our observation post and realized something was wrong. A few moments later, privates Jack Grace and Jimmy Igoe came running towards us, shouting excitedly they had just killed two enemy scouts who had been trying to outflank them. Suddenly the area erupted with explosions and as the majority of our equipment and ammunition was still in the shed, we ran a relay race back and forth trying to collect it. Moments later, we began to see movement along the tracks and poked our LMG through the slit in the pillbox and opened fire. I saw several enemy soldiers fall before the rest spread out into the bushes and shrubs on either side of the railway lines.
Through his field glasses, Bill Wedeking saw enemy troops crossing the railway lines in front of his command post at dawn: “The .50 cal and my four MGs began firing down the tracks, forcing the enemy to stop and regroup. The bazooka team fired about eight rockets into an area where we thought the Germans were more highly concentrated. As the bazooka guys had only 12 projectiles at their disposal, we had to keep four back in reserve. About 0600hrs, Cpl Fayez Handy reported to the CP and gave me a few sketchy details of what had just happened to the four guns attached to H Company. As Handy was briefing me, I noticed that one of his hands was pouring with blood and he said, ‘Look, Lieutenant, no finger!’ One of our guys sprinkled some sulpha powder on the stump and bandaged the injured hand. We then instructed him to try and find the battalion aid station located at the northern end of the main street and he headed off but never came back. Roughly 30 minutes later, Sgt Charles Easter arrived and told me that all four machine guns had been destroyed and their crews annihilated.”
Shocked by what he had just been told, Lt Wedeking sent Easter back to Boelenham farm with a runner to appraise Maj Horton of the situation and grab a hot meal. Wedeking recalls: “To be honest, I was seldom aware of where the battalion CPs were located and any contact was usually by runner. I later learned that after filing his report, Chuck was in one of the barns next to the CP when an artillery shell exploded through the roof, mortally wounding him. Upon hearing the news, I made Nathan Bullock temporary platoon sergeant and promoted him accordingly when it was confirmed that Easter had died on October 8, after being evacuated to Dodewaard along with battalion HQ.” Ben Hiner witnessed the event and recalled. “I went over to tell Easter that it wasn’t safe to remain in the barn but he was exhausted and had no intention of moving.” After Chuck’s death, his parents who lived in Cincinnati, Ohio, generously began sending care packages to the platoon.
Pvt Jim Melhus, MG Ptn, had been holding the line in a cherry orchard north of the station. At the centre of the orchard was a wooden platform about ten feet across and 30 feet high. While investigating the contents of a nearby barn, Jim discovered a pile of cord strung with tin cans, containing small pebbles that he thought would make an ideal perimeter defense. Tradionally these prefabricated lines were used by farmers to protect ripening crops from the local bird population, especially sparrows. Three weeks before harvest, usually in June or July, the lines would be strung from towers over the top of the trees and anchored to wooden poles situated around the edge of the orchard. During daylight it would be the farmer’s job to keep watch from the platform and pull on the gathered cables to scare away any inquisitive birds.
After stringing 200 feet of “sparrow” cable across the front of his gun position, Melhus recalls:
Pfc Leonard Schmidt and Pvt Carl Pease were manning another gun 50 feet away to my left. We had been there since around 0230hrs and built our defenses in both primary and secondary positions. That night a couple of us were resting in a near
by building when we were alerted by small-arms fire.
One bullet smashed through a window and could only have come from the platform in the cherry orchard, so we knew the enemy was close by. Around 0500hrs, an unidentified patrol, responding in English, was discovered crawling along a ditch towards Schmidt and Pease’s position. As Carl stood up to guide the men in (thinking they were Americans), he was shot in the head and died instantly. As the enemy hit us with mortars, one round struck my position and knocked out my ammo carrier [Timeteo Melendez] as we took cover. At least 12 rounds landed around our position, accompanied by intense rifle fire that cut through the tree branches above our heads. At that point we decided to move back and reoccupy our secondary position, and set the gun up as the enemy were trying to flank us over on the right. Just as I managed to get the weapon into action we were joined by some of the riflemen from H Company. Firing into the legs of the advancing German infantry, I saw several enemy soldiers go down before we ran out of ammunition. As we were about to be overrun, there was little choice but to spike both of our machine guns with hand grenades.
Melhus and Schmidt were furious with Cpl Lewallen, who was at the station, for failing to resupply them. After making their way back to the command post, the two gunners were astonished to find Lewallen huddled in the corner of the room. Grabbing firm hold, they dragged the corporal out of the building and ran towards town as Melhus recalls: “We owed him that at least and we were both in no doubt that he would have been killed if we’d just left him there.” As they headed north along Dalwagenseweg, a shell exploded, peppering Lewallen’s legs with shrapnel. Leaving Lewallen on the road, Melhus called for a medic and said goodbye.