Deliver Us From Darkness

by Ian Gardner

  A couple of British soldiers came from the rear carrying a wooden platform. Ed jokingly whispered to Welsh that Strayer had inadvertently invited them to some kind of floorshow! “We stood to attention as a British brigadier walked in and stepped onto the podium. He told us to sit and relax, then without any formal introduction explained, ‘Gentlemen, at this precise moment several trucks are en route from Belgium, carrying 25 collapsible canvas boats, destined for the river Maas here at Grave.’ So at least we now knew where we were!” The brigadier was most likely Sir Harold Pyman, the British Second Army Chief of Staff whose headquarters were in Grave. He continued, ‘I have called you here tonight to discuss the possibilities of mounting a mission across the Rijn to bring back a number of our paratroopers, who have recently escaped the fighting at Arnhem. Colonel Strayer, as part of your battalion is currently holding the section of river in question, we would like some of your men for the job … what do you think?’ Strayer nodded his head and the brigadier continued, ‘The operation will not be without risk, so we’ll need three of your very best senior NCOs and 17 other ranks from E Company to support our forces by forming a bridgehead on the northern bank of the Rijn, near Wageningen.’”

  Sir Harold outlined some of the logistics, such as boat handling and the pair of Bofors antiaircraft guns that would fire 40mm tracer shells across the river to guide the evaders to the waiting craft. “There was no question that the British had come up with a top-notch plan but there was one thing that worried the hell out of me,” remembers Shames:

  How could they even think to send only enlisted men, on what could quite possibly be a suicide mission, and not have any officers with them? To me it went against all facets of duty and honor.

  When the brigadier finished his briefing, he asked if there were any questions. I shot out of my seat with my hand raised as Strayer looked over and sneered under his breath, “What the hell do you think you are doing?” After introducing myself, I asked, “Sir, if the operation is that important, surely one of us should go with them, and also why are our soldiers leading the patrol and not yours?” The brigadier ventured hesitantly, “Are you volunteering for this patrol, Lieutenant?” “No, Sir, I don’t volunteer for anything,” which brought a big laugh from all present but I didn’t see any humor in what we were discussing. As the laughter died down, he asked again if I was volunteering for the job – “I s’pose I am Sir, I s’pose I am.”

  Looking at my colleagues, who were still shaking their heads and grinning, the brigadier asked if maybe they would care to join me? Somewhat reluctantly, Heyliger and Welsh agreed although I wasn’t popular for forcing them to volunteer, but I’m glad they did, because Moose and Harry were both reliable people and superb officers. On the other part of my question, the Brigadier said that he planned to work closely with 2nd Bn specifically in the sector patrolled by my platoon. Directly after the meeting we went back to our outfits, and as Heyliger was the most senior, he was chosen to lead the mission. Although every one of my men wanted to participate, I would not let Paul Rogers go on this or any other patrol that followed. It became a standing joke between us that he wasn’t up to my standards, but in all seriousness, I needed to know that if anything ever happened, he would be able to take over.

  After much thought, I picked cpls Walter Gordon and Francis Mellett, Pfcs Walter Hendrix, Gerald Flurie, Wayne “Skinny” Sisk, Robert “Popeye” Wynn, and Pvt Lester Hashey. Welsh and Heyliger selected ten of their people [Sgt Robert Mann, T/4 John McGrath, T/4 Charles Rhinehart, T/5 Ralph Stafford, Pfc Bradford Freeman, Pfc Ed Mauser, Pfc James McMahon, Pfc Silas Harrellson, Pvt John Lynch, and Pvt David Pierce] for the mission now codenamed Operation Pegasus I.

  The next day, Heyliger, Welsh, and Shames returned to Grave with their men, where Royal Engineers from the 43rd Wessex Division were on hand to teach the boat-handling skills required on the river Maas, which had a similar current to the Rijn. “Being from Norfolk, Virginia, I had pretty much grown up with rowing boats,” recalls Shames, “but the flat wooden hulls on the British variety proved particularly challenging. That afternoon we practiced for four hours and another 12 the next day and soon realized that once on the river there was absolutely no margin for error.” The men were put through their paces by the sappers and rehearsed until everyone knew exactly what was required.

  Assault training also took place during this period. Shames’ men were to form a semi-circular bridgehead about 75 yards wide on the northern bank of the Rijn, with a machine gun on each flank as Ed explains: “Corporal Mellett was in charge of one .30 cal and it was his job, if we were ambushed, to provide interlocking arcs with the other gun, giving us time to withdraw and form a skirmish line along the riverbank.”

  Meanwhile, using the telephone at the PGEM power plant in Ede, Maj Tatham-Warter was able to communicate with David Dobie in Nijmegen to further develop the plan, now set for the night of Monday October 23. It is likely that Dobie advised Tatham-Warter to utilize the same route that he had previously taken down the shallow valley between Renkum and Wageningen towards the river.

  Much to the amusement of Digby Tatham-Warter, the final evacuation point was given the codeword “Digby.” The signal indicating that the group had reached the river was to be a red torch, flashing a “V” for victory sign. During their third communication, Tatham-Warter announced that the Germans were planning to evacuate the nearby town of Bennekom on Sunday October 22, so it would make sense to bring the operation forward by 24 hours and maximize the inevitable chaos.

  On October 21, to get things moving, Dobie and his intelligence officer, Lt Leo Heaps (a Canadian who had also recently escaped from Arnhem), moved into Strayer’s CP at Hemmen. This left Tatham-Warter in the capable hands of SAS major Hugh Fraser and intelligence officer Maj Airey Neave.

  Preparations across the Rijn

  Preparations were now underway across the Rijn. Maarten van den Bent was a resistance worker living in Renkum, and well aware of the risks he and his colleagues were about to undertake. Two weeks earlier his brother Simon had been captured and executed by the Germans. During the evening of October 21, Maarten made a final recon with Maj Tom Wainwright (OC Supply Company 156 Para) and Dunkirk survivor CSM Robert Grainger (D Co 10 Para).After checking the road near the empty sanitorium at Orange Nassau’s Oord, the three men visited a nearby dairy farm belonging to Jan Peelen.

  Peelen was a friend of Maarten’s, whose local knowledge had been invaluable to the preparations. At the same time, Hendrikes van der Pol (alias “Flip”) and Maj Tatham-Warter (codename “Dr Peter”) were looking around Peelen farm for a suitable final assembly point. Leaving Wainwright and Grainger at the farm, Maarten and Jan headed north through the woods towards a large hotel, Nol in ‘t Bosch, to scout a shorter route, and afterwards waited along Molenweg for Van der Pol and Tatham-Warter to arrive. After a brief discussion they all agreed the troops would leave the road at a nearby bend, which offered clear views in either direction. At 2015hrs, after a brief map-orientation session, Grainger and Wainwright changed into their military uniforms in the cellar of Peelen farm before heading off to reconnoiter the route to the river.

  On Sunday afternoon, together with the commander of the Ede resistance, Dirk Wildeboer (alias “Bill,” who had previously arranged civilian clothing and ID cards for many of the soldiers),Tatham-Warter, and Brigadier Lathbury met up with Maarten van den Bent, to give him the go-ahead for the operation. Before going home, Maarten was briefed by Capt Tony Frank (2IC, A Co 2 Para). Frank told him to expect an additional group of around 40 armed and uniformed British soldiers (led by Maj Tony Hibbert and Dutch truck owner Piet Kruyff). Hibbert’s group would be arriving from Oud Reemst, near Arnhem, and it was to be Flip’s job to make sure the two lorries arrived at Molenweg on time.

  About 90 men (including 30 airborne medics) came in during the day, guided predominantly by nurses from the Red Cross and local boy scouts. Dressed as civilians, the soldiers spent the evening at a central rendezvous point,
operated by Tony Frank, in a copse opposite the sanitorium at Dennenrust. Later that same evening a wagon delivered weapons and uniforms to Orange Nassau’s Oord.

  Maj Tatham-Warter asked Maarten van den Bent to meet the vehicles that were expected to arrive around 1900hrs. Disguised as a lumberjack, Maarten returned to Molenweg where he was horrified to see two men waiting in a parked car. The occupants were part of a local neighborhood watch scheme and their presence forced Van den Bent to relocate to another position further down the road. Not long afterwards, Jan Peelen arrived, carrying an old axe, and reported to his colleague that the vehicle had gone. As the area now seemed clear the two men began to chop and stack wood as they waited for the two lorries from Oud Reemst to arrive.

  American security measures

  In the meantime, along the southern bank, members of H Co’s 1 Ptn and 3 Ptn were assigned outpost positions across a two-mile front maintained by 1st Bn. The first OP (to the west) was next to the brick factory at Wolfswaard. The second was centrally located opposite Wageningen by the ferry crossing and a third situated 900 yards further east on the dijk near Randwijk. Hank DiCarlo recalls, “For a couple of nights before the operation, the two Bofors antiaircraft guns, about half a mile apart, fired tracer shells across the river for several minutes every hour. The tracer was marking the left and right parameters of the embarkation area [Digby] and as long as the escapees kept within these limits, they were heading in the right direction. It was hoped by firing the Bofors on a regular basis that it wouldn’t arouse suspicion or alert the enemy when the time came to evacuate the British.”

  By Saturday night, all the boats had been placed under apple trees in the 3 Ptn area adjacent the river. Night routes were laid out using engineer tape and additional artillery placed on alert, ready in case anything went wrong. Before being deployed S/Sgt Ralph Bennett reported to the H Company CP at Normaalschool on Hoofdstraat in Zetten, for a final briefing about the operation. “I took about 15 guys from my platoon and distinctly remember somebody lightheartedly playing a piano after the meeting. The night of the operation was so cold that I urinated in my own trousers trying to keep warm.”

  Throughout the evening of October 22, constant enemy mortar and artillery shells were landing immediately behind the operational area. A barrage of rockets fired from a Nebelwerfer battery hit the new Regimental CP, located at Christine Hermine School in Zetten, seriously wounding three men.

  Back on line, Pvt Ed Petroski, a replacement from H Co 1 Ptn, was making a large amount of noise as he fiddled with his poncho, trying to stay warm and dry, as Hank DiCarlo recalls: “Our platoon sergeant, Frank Padisak, leaned towards ‘Petro’ and quietly growled ‘If you shake that thing one more time, I’m gonna kill your god damned ass.’We all muttered our approval and for the rest of the night Petroski remained as still as a statue.”

  The point of no return

  Back on the northern side of the river, as the paratroopers from Oud Reemst were arriving at Molenweg, a platoon of German soldiers pedaled by on bicycles: “Luckily we were partially hidden from view and the Germans disappeared into the darkness completely oblivious to what we were doing,” recalled Maarten van den Bent.

  A group of about ten resistance men were also on board the trucks, including Charles Douw van de Krap (a Dutch naval officer) and two recently escaped Russian POWs… Shortly before midnight, just as we were preparing to move out, Tatham-Warter began to worry about Peelen’s ability as a guide. It was never my intention to take over but, keeping Jan by my side, I moved the group down hill in single file through the woods, onto a track densely lined with tall pine trees. We soon reached Jan’s cattle barn, where the soldiers were issued weapons and changed into military uniforms [previously transported from the Orange Nassau’s Oord Sanitorium by Peelen on his three wheeled bakfiet].

  At this point the column split into four groups. Flanked by two smaller sections, the main body with Brig Lathbury, Tatham-Warter, and Tony Hibbert followed the advance party led by Maj Wainwright and CSM Bob Grainger. Maarten van den Bent moved through the meadows west of Oranje Nassau’s Oord, with Wainwright’s group, crossing the elevated main road from Wageningen to Renkum. “As we were negotiating the dijk, Grainger and two other men fell headfirst into a ditch and started to giggle,” recalls Maarten. Maj Tatham-Warter was not far behind and whispered something along the lines of “For Christ’s sake shut up, where the hell do you lot think you are?” “Everyone who was close enough to hear just had to laugh making the situation ten times worse,” recalls Maarten. “Things had calmed down by the time we traversed a small bridge, and crawled across the open meadow area to the brick factory alongside the river [as the Bofors guns began firing]… According to Major Wainwright, this was a critical point between two German observation posts. Moving downstream towards the collection area, somebody was spotted by an enemy patrol, but, surprisingly, after a brief exchange of automatic fire they withdrew.”

  Upon reaching what they thought was “Digby,” Tatham-Warter and Wainwright sent a signal across the river but failed to detect any response. To make matters worse the next burst from the Bofors was not due for at least another 30 minutes. Thinking they were either in the wrong place or the mission had been cancelled, Tatham-Warter was weighing up his options, when a Canadian accent spoke out from the darkness. “Are you people by any chance looking for some boats?” The voice belonged to Leo Heaps, who was with Heyliger and Welsh. At that moment, TathamWarter could have exploded with joy but instead calmly confirmed that “indeed they were the people looking for the boats.”

  Earlier, Airey Neave and Hugh Fraser had joined Col Sink and LtCol Strayer and the southern shore party down at the riverbank. Nearby, Ed Shames and his men were anxiously awaiting the order to embark. “I did my best to remain calm but kept regurgitating bile, which during the course of the mission actually damaged the fillings in my teeth.”

  Shortly after midnight, a red flashlight was seen across the river, blinking the “V” sign that signaled the start of the operation. The Americans quietly carried their boats into the water and proceeded to paddle, while enemy artillery flashed somewhere in the distance, silhouetting the men as they rowed across. Leo Heaps and David Dobie joined the first phase and were with either Heyliger or Welsh.

  Because of the strong current, a couple of the wooden framed craft collided during the slow and deliberate five-minute crossing. “Upon reaching the northern bank I began to set up my defensive bridgehead,” recalls Ed Shames. “Moving away from the river together with Walt Gordon, we placed the men in a wide semi-circle about ten to 15 yards apart, with the two machine guns on the riverbank protecting our flanks. Cpl Gordon and I then took up prearranged positions at the apex and waited… We had expected to meet one of the Dutch resistance workers, but there was nobody to be seen, so Heyliger and Welsh went forward with their teams and disappeared into the woods. While we were waiting for the search party to return, I sent Cpl Gordon around to check on the men.”

  Tension began to mount when, as a diversionary tactic, British artillery started to shell enemy positions east of Arnhem. About ten minutes later much to everyone’s relief, Heyliger and Welsh reappeared with Brig Lathbury and his men. Immediately a signal was flashed across the river for the other boats, crewed by the sappers from the Royal Engineers, to come across.

  Once inside the bridgehead, it took about 30 minutes and several trips to evacuate all 149 people (including approximately 130 British paratroopers and seven American airmen).At around 0120hrs, Ed Shames was told by a British officer: “All present and correct, last man sir.” (Strictly speaking he was not the last man as one of the Russians had dissapeared during the journey.) With that the signal was given for the perimeter to implode and exfiltrate back to the river. “We were the last to leave,” recalls Ed. “I had two American airmen in my boat, one of whom was a pilot called Clyde. From my perspective, the patrol went like clockwork both in its planning and execution. We had suffered no casualties and I beli
eve to this day that it was one of my proudest moments in World War II.”

  When they reached the southern bank, the British were ecstatic and shook hands enthusiastically with the Americans before being led away for a debriefing. S/Sgt Ralph Bennett was behind the dijk, near the ferry and watched the returning boats. “After everyone was safely ashore we pulled back to create a protective shield. I talked to a couple of the Paras as we were walking back to the collection point [Strayer’s CP] who told me that they’d had a rough time and that the German tanks during the battle at Arnhem had smashed through anything and everything in their way.” After arriving at Lonkhuyzen farm, each man was given a cup of coffee laced with rum and a complimentary carton of cigarettes before being taken by truck to Nijmegen. Unfortunately, as he was leaving Hemmen, Tony Hibbert’s legs were crushed, when the jeep on which he was sitting, collided with another vehicle in the pitch darkness.

  The following day Col Sink officially commended Heyliger, Welsh, Shames, and each of the enlisted men for their aggressive spirit, courage, and devotion to duty. Brig Lathbury sent a special message via the BBC to Dirk Wildeboer stating: “Message for ‘Bill,’ everything is well, all our thanks.” CSM Robert Grainger was awarded the Bronze Star by the 101st Airborne Division, and Maarten van den Bent, along with several other members of the resistance, including his murdered brother Simon, were given the Medal of Freedom by the US government in 1947.

  13

  “Our work is nearly done”