Deliver Us From Darkness

by Ian Gardner

  After 1st Bn moved into position, 3rd Bn withdrew under cover of darkness and reassembled at the Christian School in Hien. Bob Stroud recalled: “Along the way we came under mortar and artillery fire, and Pfc Glenn Sweigart was killed. Upon reaching the CP at the schoolhouse, we were ordered to return to our original positions due to some kind of admin error! On the way back we passed G Company, who had about 70 German prisoners they were escorting towards Dodewaard.”

  That night the entire 3rd Bn was ordered south of the railway, to form a defensive line 400 yards wide, continuing north into Opheusden, linking up with 1st Bn. Throughout the chaos of October 5, 2nd Bn’s positions remained unchanged. However, the new order of battle followed a line from south to north, beginning with I Company along the Waal at Dodewaard. The main line of resistance (MLR) continued with one platoon from B/326 Airborne Engineers, H Company (with G Company in reserve), followed by C, B, and A Company, who were anchored up on the dijk next to the Rijn.

  “Apart from Arnhem, Opheusden was probably the bloodiest battle of the entire campaign,” adds Ralph Bennett. “The rifle companies lost a lot of guys and I was lucky to get most of mine out alive. Ultimately, one of the reasons why the German attack failed was due to accurate and effective counterbattery fire called in by the artillery observers attached to 1/506.”

  At some point after the signalman’s house on Smachtkamp was hit, the Germans moved the bodies of Clawson and Thomas to a forward aid station on the southern side of the railway embankment, where they established a temporary cemetery. The corpses of the two Americans were then buried on the northern side of the tracks, to keep them separate from the German dead. Over the weeks following the battle the shallow graves were covered by floodwater and any external sign of their existence washed away.

  When the morning comes

  A vigorous and aggressive patrolling policy was maintained throughout the night of October 5/6 by all front line units, under a protective shield of harassing artillery fire. In the lull that preceeded first light on October 6, a heavy mist descended over the area. G Co 3 Ptn, led by 1st Lt Linton Barling, were moving westwards along the railtracks when they clashed with forward elements of II./IR 958. The enemy unit had moved into the station under cover of darkness, and were now threatening the MLR at the level crossing. Simultaneously, IR 957 attacked along the northern side of the station, pushing 1st Bn back 500 yards and pinning down H Company, who suffered two men killed from 2 Ptn – Pvt Jack Butler and Pfc Jose Hernandez.

  The remainder of G Company were immediately released from reserve and sent to defend the tracks in an attempt to recapture the station. The 3 Ptn were somewhere in front of 5th DCLI, who were expected to be coming in from the right along Dalwagen on a flanking movement. Barling heard voices up ahead and, thinking they were British, moved forward in the fog to make contact. The voices turned out to be German and after a brief exchange of fire, the enemy displayed a white flag. As Barling passed the waiting room on the western side of the station, the door flew open and he was killed instantly by a burst of machine-gun fire.

  At dawn, Ben Hiner was in one of the houses close to the southern side of the station along Dalwagenseweg. “I was peering west through the mist from a second-floor window, when I saw a number of soldiers eerily emerging from an orchard about 300 yards away.” The advance party from IR 958 had found a gap in the lines, and were now moving in extended file – about ten feet apart – along the edge of the orchard in an attempt to outflank the town. At first Bahlau thought they were Americans, but then noticed the men were wearing long woolen overcoats. The roaring silence was shattered the moment Hiner opened fire on the gray-clad figures with his M1 rifle. Weisenberger and Bahlau were resting nearby in a large building belonging to the railway, and they immediately realized what was happening as Fred Bahlau recalls: “I was on guard behind a pile of battalion supplies outside the barn when I alerted Lt Weisenberger, who immediately ran over to support Hiner. However, the overwhelming weight of return fire forced them both back to the ground floor of the house.”

  The Germans made no attempt to clear Bahlau and Hiner’s positions but instead circled around an adjacent building and crossed over Dalwagenseweg. “Using the nearest ditch we moved forward towards the building and managed to get behind the enemy who were now moving away from us,” recalls Bahlau. “Using the ditch on the other side of the road we got close enough to throw a few grenades into the rear of the column.”

  “Lt Weisenberger’s carbine jammed briefly, just as he jumped into the ditch with Bahlau,” remembers Hiner. “I watched the rear as Fred engaged and captured five of the Germans. We then started to receive fire from a copse about 70 yards away. The guys continued firing from the ditch, as I scuttled around behind the trees and shouted for the enemy to surrender, which much to my surprise they did! The Kraut in charge wasn’t being very co-operative, but soon changed his mind after I prodded him with my bayonet. For being so arrogant, we made him push one of his colleagues, who had been wounded, back to our original position in a wheelbarrow.”

  In total the three men had managed to capture 11 prisoners as Bahlau remembers: “Really they were just boys wearing brand-new uniforms who gave up easily. I guess we were lucky because this sort of thing would never have happened in Normandy.” A brief look through the men’s soldbücher (paybooks) revealed that the prisoners had originally been assigned to the 13. Infanterie Close Support Howitzer Company (ID 363). Once again the man pushing the wheelbarrow became argumentative, as Bahlau recollects: “The guy soon shut up when I gestured toward his throat with my knife, before hacking off his collar insignia as a souvenir!”

  When the group returned to their original location they were glad to see that the long-awaited vehicles from HQ Company had finally arrived. After several trips through furious enemy artillery fire, almost everything, including the 11 prisoners, was successfully delivered to Hien. Lt Weisenberger remained at the battalion CP, while Bahlau and Hiner made one more journey back to the outpost, where they ran into Capt Harwick and 1st Lt Heggeness.

  A couple of hours earlier, Col Sink had called Capt Harwick in Hien to report that a German raiding party had broken through the G and H Company front lines, ahead of another possible heavy attack, and asked him to investigate. Harwick called for a driver and jeep then tried to drive north, but artillery bursting across the open meadows along Dalwagenseweg prevented him from reaching Opheusden. Somewhere north of Dodewaard, Harwick spotted 1st Lt Heggeness, who happened to be in the vicinity with his 2 Ptn. Heggeness recalls: “The ‘brass’ wanted Capt Harwick to send out a patrol to assess the situation and capture an enemy soldier for interrogation and on the spur of the moment the boss decided to do this himself.”

  One of the sergeants from 2 Ptn suggested that Capt Harwick could take a small squad, park the jeep in “no man’s land, then simply wait at a safe distance for a German patrol to come along and take the bait.” This seemed ridiculous, and realizing that the enemy had been pushing down the railway lines towards Boelenham farm, Harwick decided it might be better to head towards Hemmen and asked Heggeness to go with him. The driver turned around and taking a more circular route, drove his two passengers to the farm, where Harwick intended to get an update from 5th DCLI, who were still occupying the old 506th CP.

  Earlier, the owner of Boelenham farm, Dirk Tap, had been asked by the British to make preparations for his family to leave and recalls: “On hearing the news, the refugees who had been sheltering overnight in the basement fled towards Dodewaard. Around 1pm, artillery shells began to explode around the property and the cart that we’d been loading with our belongings was blown to smithereens. It felt like the world was ending as we scrambled out through the scullery door and returned to the cellar.” Shortly after arriving, and concerned for the Tap family’s welfare, Capt Harwick went into the kitchen to look for the family. As he moved through the scullery, towards the back door, a burst of automatic gunfire shattered a window to his left.

 
The British seemed totally unconcerned that the Germans were now only a short distance away from the house. Harwick thought better of the situation and ran to his waiting jeep. Thinking he could outflank the enemy, the anxious driver sped down the straight narrow driveway, and turned due west (right) along Boelenhamsestraat towards Opheusden.

  Following the line of the railway tracks, the men had driven no more than 500 yards, when they ran into a patrol from II./IR 958 hiding behind a dijk, to their right, next to a large tree.

  Capt Harwick yelled at the driver to “step on it” and ducked down. Initially the Germans seemed surprised but they soon came to their senses, and fired a volley of rifle shots, followed by several bursts from a machine gun. “At that moment, the world was just a piece of muddy road and fleck of green field as we cringed and reached 50 miles per hour,” recalls Harwick. “I knew the jeep had been hit but we seemed OK, except the driver didn’t attempt to take the slight bend up ahead.”

  As the jeep plunged into a drainage channel on the left-hand side of the road, Harwick and Heggeness were catapulted head first into the freezing water, losing their weapons and helmets. “Gagging on a mouthful of mud, I was acutely aware of a sharp pain over my left eye, as I struggled to stand,” remembers Harwick. “Heggeness was already dragging the driver out from under the water.” The unconscious, and unknown, soldier had been shot in the head, and what little life remained, ebbed away as he lay in Heggeness’ arms. “We expected to be killed at any moment, and were sitting ducks as the enemy only had to come forward 50 yards to get a clean shot at us,” added Harwick.

  Initially the two officers moved west along the channel, which eventually fed into the Linge Canal. Clark remembers hearing German voices, “We remained motionless amongst the rushes and it appeared to me that the enemy were laughing at what had just happened. We could see their rifle barrels pushing back and forth through the reeds along the bank as they were trying to locate us.”

  After hearing the commotion, a patrol from 5th DCLI came up from Boelenham and attacked the Germans, allowing Harwick and Heggeness to make good their escape. Following the channel, the men crawled under a small bridge to the northern side of the road and waded southwest, until reaching the junction with Dalwagen. Here, a drainage pipe led back underneath the road and the men were able to crawl through the culvert and make their way to the safety of a nearby house before continuing to Opheusden.

  By the time the two officers reached the outpost manned by Ben Hiner and Fred Bahlau, they looked like a bizarre pair of Halloween ghouls, as Bob Harwick recalls: “Our uniforms were shredded and torn and our faces caked with blood. My right leg had also been injured, but the first question anyone asked me was ‘Where’s the damn jeep?’”

  Climbing the stairs of the outpost house, Harwick and Heggeness scanned the area from where they had just come through field glasses, but were unable to locate the crash site: “However, we did see plenty of enemy soldiers crawling around in the undergrowth to the west. Capt Harwick immediately got on the radio and called for artillery but incredibly, due to insufficient ammunition, none could be made available, so we called up our own 81mm mortar platoon only to be told the same thing!”

  Fred Bahlau recalls the event from his perspective:

  Capt Harwick thought that there might be a slim chance that the driver was still alive. He also wanted his maps and reports that were tucked into the doors of the abandoned vehicle. After being told the rough whereabouts of the jeep, Ben Hiner and I volunteered to mount a rescue mission in the vehicle that we’d previously been using to move the equipment for HQ Company.

  I drove like hell along the canal, and eventually found Harwick’s jeep on its side. As we stopped, the enemy opened up, hitting our vehicle several times. Jumping into the murky water, Ben and I managed to reach up inside and grab Harwick’s papers. Floating facedown, the driver was obviously dead, so we recovered the body and headed back to Opheusden. The captain was in tears when he saw the lifeless driver and needless to say blamed himself for the soldier’s death.

  Afterwards the two NCOs were finally able to return to Hien, where Capt Morton was anxiously awaiting news. Morton recalled: “Hiner and Bahlau actually apologized for their absence, despite the fact that they had collected Capt Harwick’s papers and brought me 11 POWs!” Hiner and Bahlau were awarded the Silver Star (with oak leaves for Bahlau) for the conspicuous gallantry they both displayed on October 6. The Tap family eventually escaped from Boelenham farm and were able to find shelter at a cousin’s house in Andelst.

  Later that afternoon the Germans forced 1st Bn back to the eastern edge of Opheusden, where they were ordered to form a skirmish line with 5th DCLI. Col Sink and the commander of 5th DCLI, LtCol Taylor, decided that a combined attack might be the best course of action. The main thrust would take place along Burgemeester Lodderstraat, west towards the church. The British would sweep south of the road and 1st Bn to the north, jumping off near the windmill (where 1st Bn had previously established an aid station).

  The 30-minute meeting took place in an orchard behind what had previously been the H Company CP at De Tol, BrigGen McAuliffe sat in while LtCol Taylor issued his orders to B and D Company, 5th DCLI. Brigadier Hubert Essame, the commanding officer of 43rd Wessex Division, arrived to express his concerns about the apparent lack of British and American artillery. McAuliffe explained that the 321st GFA would do their best to support the counterattack, despite the fact that they did not have enough ammunition readily available for the mission. To make matters worse, the artillery officer for 5th DCLI had been wounded which meant that 5th DCLI had no forward observer available for the forthcoming attack.

  The British moved out along Dalwagenseweg, using the deep roadside ditch for cover. Following an inaffective artillery preparation, both units began to advance and after about 300 yards came under devastating enemy 88mm cannon fire. Although delayed, D Company, 5th DCLI, decided to stop and reorganize near the windmill.

  With everyone now on line, the attack recommenced, signaled by a single whistle blast from the Americans. The British were then targeted by several enemy machine guns located in a ditch adjacent to the road. The two leading platoons swept forward firing from the hip and hurling grenades, until all six enemy gun teams were neutralized. It was then that the Germans blanketed the area with artillery and mortar fire and their riflemen began to exact a devastating toll on the stranded British infantry.

  LtCol Taylor was forced to commit his reserve platoon, whose leader Lt Durden managed to regroup the shattered remnants of D Company. Despite this, the Germans were able to infiltrate around both flanks, making it almost impossible to evacuate the wounded. At one point the German commander allowed the casualties to be removed and taken to the windmill. The American medics working at the mill soon became overwhelmed with the number of British and American casualties. Meanwhile, back at De Tol, Col Sink and LtCol Taylor decided to regroup and try again.

  At 1600hrs, the Cornishmen from B Company, 5th DCLI, led another attack, this time through the orchards and houses on the southwestern side of Opheusden into the area of the Biezenwei meadow. The German mortar fire controllers had the location marked and recorded, and rained a continuous barrage of shells onto the British as they swung around into position. Small-arms fire rippled along the line as the Allied troops closed with the enemy. At one point the Germans brought in a self-propelled gun but the crew were forced to withdraw. Elements of 1st Bn, supported by a troop of tanks from the Scots Greys, were fighting for control of the railway station where the Germans had sited an antitank gun close to the canal bridge.

  Cpl Bobbie Rommel’s machine-gun section was now attached to 1st Bn, and they were struggling on the southern edge of town under the weight of their equipment:

  Cpl Don Gallaugher tripped and broke his ankle, which was all we needed. Shortly afterwards a British soldier walked past and surprised us all by saying, “Good morning chaps, lovely day, isn’t it?” The man then headed off in the direction o
f the enemy lines leaving us to scratch our heads and wonder if the Brit had actually been a Kraut. Moments later we came under enemy artillery fire and were forced to take cover in a roadside ditch, when a couple of British tanks arrived to support us. The commander of the first Sherman started hollering from his turret, “Hey Yanks, get moving – you’ll never kill anybody hiding in that damn ditch will you?” Bang – a split second later an AT round hit the tank, badly wounding the commander. As we were carrying the casualty to the nearest collection point, the ungrateful SOB didn’t say a single word, not even a “thank you,” in fact he couldn’t even look me or any of the other guys in the face.

  Later that day the four of us came under shellfire and found cover in a nearby culvert that ran underneath an elevated section of road. We couldn’t stay there for long and realized that our only means of escape would be through the mud-filled drain. The first two guys made it out the other side but as Andy Bryan and I followed, an enemy machine gun opened fire.

  The weight of my .30 cal gun helped me gain some extra traction, as I ran like hell across the waterlogged ground. Upon reaching my colleagues, I screamed, “Where’s Andy, where’s Andy?” One look at their faces gave me the answer. The guys had seen him slip in the mud, before being riddled with bullets as he struggled to get back on his feet. It was the only time I ever cried, Andy was like a little brother to me.

  Before he was killed, Bryan had given Tex Collier’s Luger to Darvin Lee for safekeeping. Most of the men in the platoon were beginning to believe that the pistol was bad luck, but Darvin disagreed and defiantly kept it as a souvenir.