by Matthew Hall
By the time they arrived back in Vilvoorde the streets were heaving with ecstatic crowds. Everywhere there were improvised flags and showers of flowers. The town had burst into life with people dancing in the square, embracing and drinking wine in a spontaneous outpouring of relief. As Herford’s party drove through they were showered with petals, but some consternation was caused by the fact that the lead car contained Germans. It took them a few moments to realize that they had been taken prisoner.
Herford returned to Ledeberg, his temporary base at that time, and deposited the prisoners. He still had to find a new site for the Corps Medical Area so he set off again an hour later. They had gone no more than a mile when they were stopped by a tank commander who assured them it was extremely unsafe to proceed further, as the canal bridge 1½ miles ahead was mined and under fire from German 88mm guns. It was the same bridge Herford and Franklin had crossed at 8 o’clock that morning! Satisfied there was no prospect of setting up a base in the Malines area, they settled for a site bordering the main Brussels–Antwerp road where they moved later that afternoon.
Some days later Herford was informed that there was going to be a substantial airborne landing at Arnhem. Having reached the Rhine, the Allies faced tougher and more resolute resistance which required bold countermeasures. To cross they had to seize bridges which would carry military transport. Montgomery therefore planned to seize a bridgehead at Arnhem using the 1st Airborne Division later supported by the Polish Brigade. The 82nd US Division would be sent to capture the bridges at Nijmegen and Grave and the 101st US Division would secure the road from Grave to Eindhoven. XXX Corps would then push through from Eindhoven to Arnhem along the ‘carpet’ of airborne troops who would have seized these positions.
The operation was huge and hastily planned, and involved 35,000 men. On 17 and 18 September many thousands of paratroopers were dropped. The 101st US Division was largely successful, but ran into problems when they discovered the canal bridge on the road to Eindhoven had been blown. However, they succeeded in capturing the town on the 18th. The 82nd US Division made headway, but could not seize the bridge at Nijmegen. At Arnhem some of the British paratroopers succeeded in holding their position at the northern end of the bridge over the Rhine, but were coming under increasingly savage attack. XXX Corps, which Herford’s unit was following, proceeded up the Eindhoven road under heavy fire, frequently being forced to stop, but finally made it to Eindhoven on the afternoon of the 18th and the canal was bridged. The following day they pushed through to Nijmegen, where on the 20th there was a hard-fought battle for the bridge.
The final objective was to link up with the paratroopers at Arnhem, who were by now in dire straits. Bad weather had hampered the flying-in of supplies and ammunition was in short supply. The 10,000 men of the 1st Airborne gallantly held on to a small area on the northern bank where they fought for eight days, but XXX Corps, the 43rd Division and the Polish Parachute Brigade were all unable to reach them. All thoughts of a completely successful outcome to the operation were now abandoned, and the priority was to effect a ‘rescue’.
Herford came up to the south bank of the Rhine on 23 September near Driel, just over 9 miles west of the town of Arnhem. As they had come closer the fighting had become more and more intense. The roads were clogged with military transport and further progress was halted as the enemy held the vital bridges the Allies were struggling to capture. Herford met with Brigadier Eagger, the CO of the Airborne Forces medical services. He was dreadfully worried about the 1st Airborne pinned down on the opposite bank as they were reported to have nearly 2,000 casualties and were critically short of supplies.
Later that day Herford attended a conference of senior medical officers at which it was decided that he should take command of the Airborne ‘tail’ of about 15 ambulances, including six vehicles with medical supplies for the Polish Brigade who were several miles further east on the south side of the river. With the assistance of Captain Louis of the 1st Airborne, he was given the task of seeing what could be done to get medical supplies over the river.
They set off in a convoy of 78 vehicles. They had not gone far when Major General Thomas of the 43rd Wessex Division flagged them down and yelled, ‘What the hell is a medical unit doing here? I want guns!’ He ordered them off the road to make way for heavy artillery.
Communications with the 1st Airborne had all but broken down. Units were separated, their locations uncertain, and no one knew exactly where their front line was, or indeed if they had managed to establish a front. They were surrounded by a ring of fire and were increasingly at the mercy of superior forces. From the southern side of the river at Driel, Herford watched in amazement as supply drops were made on the other side of the river with awe-inspiring bravery. Though the sky was an inferno of exploding shells and flak, the heavy, lumbering supply planes droned low over the ground and disgorged their payloads of essential cargoes. The airmen inside could actually be seen throwing the bundles out of the doors. Planes were hit, they caught fire, spiralled out of control and exploded in the air, but the others carried on regardless. Herford describes the actions of those men as some of the bravest he witnessed in the war. It was made all the more tragic because it later transpired that most of the drops had taken place over areas already recaptured from the Airborne. As such, most of the supplies were delivered into German hands. Of 100 bombers and 63 Dakotas on that mission, 97 were damaged and 13 shot down. Of 391 tons of supplies, only 31 were retrieved by the Airborne troops.
Herford waited in anticipation throughout the night of 23 September for an anticipated attempt to send reinforcements and supplies over the Rhine, but the mission was prevented by a lack of assault craft. The fire was so heavy on the roads that the necessary transport had simply been unable to get through.
On the morning of 24 September Herford had become increasingly impatient at their apparent inability to render any assistance to their helpless comrades on the opposite bank. He reviewed the alternative possible courses of action and later that morning sought an interview with General Thomas at 43 Division HQ. He found the general and put forward three options.
The first was to send two medical officers and 12 men in six DUKs (amphibious vehicles), each carrying half a ton of medical supplies from the seaborne tail of the Airborne Division which could cross later that night. The second was for one officer and 30 medical orderlies, each carrying an assault pack of medical supplies, to cross in boats that night. And the third was for a daylight attempt to be made to carry over supplies in boats under the Red Cross flag. It was agreed that the last was potentially the safest, and would not rule out attempting either of the other methods if it were to fail. At 2.30pm, together with Captain Louis and four volunteers from 163 Field Ambulance (privates H. W. Belmore, A. H. Hill, J. J. Keegan and A. Moore), Herford organized a river crossing with 6 cwt of supplies.
They were protected from enemy snipers in their position by the high banks of the dyke, and before they carried their supplies over the top and down to the water Herford asked the officer in charge of the platoon covering that section of riverbank to provide them with covering fire if the Germans decided not to respect the Red Cross flag; but if the medics were forced to ground by enemy fire his platoon should open up with whatever they had.
They made their way down to the riverbank and were fortunate enough to find an assault boat which was to have been part of the aborted crossing the previous evening. No shots were fired and no Germans were visible on the opposite bank. The river was wide and fast flowing, there were high sloping grassy banks either side of it, rising 30 feet on the north side, levelling off, then rising steeply to some woods 200 to 300 yards away. The nature of the incline on the northern bank was such that anyone at water level could not have been seen from the woods, which was the most likely place for an enemy detachment to have taken cover. This was probably why this assault boat had escaped destruction.
Just as they were about to land on the other side, another boat su
ddenly appeared from around a bend. There was only one man paddling and as he drew closer another figure rose up from the well of the boat. They had been part of a detachment who had attempted to cross the river the night before but which had been continuously pinned down by fire. Herford exchanged a few brief words, pointing them in the direction from which they had climbed over the dyke, then proceeded across the water under the Red Cross flag. Unbeknown to Herford at the time, his party reached the north bank of the Rhine at almost the exact moment a truce ended between the Airborne and the Germans during which no fire was exchanged to allow for the wounded to be evacuated. The truce had lasted from 3pm until 5pm, when the battle recommenced as if it had never ceased. History later revealed that at the time the truce was granted the Germans were becoming increasingly worried by long-range shelling from the British south of the Rhine. A message was received by Major Skalka (Chief Medical Officer 9th Panzer SS) from 2nd British Army HQ asking if the ceasefire could be extended to allow sufficient time for medical supplies to be brought across. Skalka refused.
Herford worked out that there were three possibilities. Enemy fire might terminate the proceedings forcing a rapid retreat; their luck might hold sufficiently for them to get through to the Airborne with the supplies; or direct contact would be made with the enemy in which case he would request safe passage under the Red Cross flag. The latter seemed the most likely possibility, so he decided to constitute himself an envoy and request an interview with a senior German officer.
He surveyed the landscape. There was no movement in the woods ahead, but there was mortar fire issuing from a point under cover some distance to the right. It was impossible to say whether this was an Airborne or enemy position. Some 500 yards away to the left, situated on the edge of the woods, was a small house flying the Red Cross flag. There was a neat privet hedge around it and further up the hill behind it were several other houses. Between the river and the house was a line of willow trees.
Herford decided that the best option was to head towards the house. He left his party by the river and set off up the bank and a grassy incline beyond towards the willows. He saw the first signs of life just as he was approaching the willows. A group of soldiers emerged from one of the houses. From several hundred yards’ distance their nationality was not clear. Herford thought it distinctly odd that they made no signal. He wondered whether they were Poles and prayed they were not Germans. As he drew closer he came upon a deep ditch filled with water, protected with barbed wire and difficult to cross. As he was looking up and down for the best place to jump over, a line of figures rose up from behind the privet hedge surrounding the first house; they pointed their rifles at him and made motions of throwing hand grenades. There could be no doubt that they were Germans.
The ditch was a nuisance. Herford had no desire to get wet and tangled up in barbed wire, but it was clear from the urgency of their signals that he had to hurry or they would open fire. He waved to them, raised his Red Cross flag, pointed to the ditch and walked along until he could find somewhere to cross. He marched up to them as boldly as he could and said that he wanted to see ‘ein hoher Offizier’ and asked to be taken to their colonel. They asked whether he was a Parliamentaire (envoy), to which he replied that he was. It was apparent that the others still waiting by the river had no means of escaping, so he also asked if they could be brought with him. The Germans were uncertain as to the status of this request, but no doubt Herford’s persuasive manner and grasp of German were a distinct advantage. One of them took the Red Cross flag and said he would take him to their officer. Herford spelt out that if they would not accept his status as an envoy the whole party should be respected and returned to the southern bank.
The Germans said very little apart from ‘Ja, ja’, and immediately blindfolded him. He was then led some distance on and told to stand against a tree. For a fleeting moment he wondered if he was simply going to be dispatched on the spot. The only grain of comfort he could summon up was the thought that if that was their intention they would have shot him as he was crossing the ditch. However, a few moments later a young soldier came and led him away by the hand up the hill over some rough ground. Walking blindfold was not easy, but the young German politely warned him of obstructions. After they had been walking for about five minutes Herford asked if they were near their destination. The German soldier had been shouting out questions to others he had met and it appeared that there were very few officers in the area. No one appeared to know where their HQ was.
The blindfolded walk continued for what seemed a long time, but was perhaps no more than half an hour. On several occasions there was mortaring nearby and Herford’s escort seemed reluctant to go on; he pulled him down into cover once, but the shells exploded some distance away. In addition, a number of planes roared overhead, firing their machine guns, but Herford concluded they were German planes strafing the Airborne.
Eventually they got to what Herford assumed was the battalion HQ. He was told to stand outside until an officer came out and spoke to him. Several minutes later Herford heard the voice of a young man who was evidently the officer who had been asked to deal with his request. Herford outlined his demands: the immediate passage of the supplies, the passage of further supplies, facilities for the immediate evacuation of the more seriously wounded Airborne troops and the return of himself and his companions should these demands be rejected.
The blindfold was then removed. Herford saw the officer was a young, good-looking lieutenant colonel of an SS Group. His face bore a duelling scar, the mark of a young aristocrat. He requested Herford’s identity papers and asked whether he had eaten. When Herford said that he had, the man seemed quite offended that he had refused the invitation to dine with them. He left and Herford remained standing outside looking at the guards and soldiers who passed. Some of them had hard, brutal, war-worn faces. He felt distinctly uneasy about his safety.
Dusk was advancing and Herford was beginning to feel pangs of hunger. As he waited two girls of about 22 came out, evidently nurses, and they spoke in German. Herford learned that one of them came from Hamburg and had spent a year in Manchester before the war. When they mentioned food he reckoned that he would not get anything until the next day and so readily accepted. One of them fetched him a chair and a plateful of stew. As he was eating, a rather severe-looking officer passed who thought that Herford was seeing too much, and told him to eat facing the wall. Through the open door Herford could see a tray of wine glasses being carried into the mess. He could hear the officers’ voices and laughter as they exchanged jokes. It seemed a very civilized and relaxed mess.
A lady came out with a girl of eight. She was Dutch and explained that the house belonged to her. The Germans had just requisitioned it and had taken over every room except for one tiny one. Her daughter was forced to sleep on the kitchen floor. There was so much noise neither of them could rest. Herford sympathized.
The situation was comical, almost surreal – a woman complaining about the noise of laughter when all around them war was raging. As darkness fell Herford’s papers were returned to him and he was taken by car to the nearby Divisional HQ. He was now well and truly separated from the others in his party. He later learned that they had been allowed to return to the south bank, but that Captain Louis made a second attempt to cross later the same night during which he was shot and killed.
On arrival at Divisional HQ his papers were again taken for careful checking. Prior to the crossing he had taken pains to ensure he was carrying nothing other than his identity documents, some personal letters and a small notebook containing bogus ‘top secret’ information about some units which were well known to the Germans. He was pleased to see that they spent a considerable length of time poring over its contents.
He repeated his demands. The German officers stressed that the Airborne attack had all but collapsed and that they were unsure about his status as an envoy because he carried the Red Cross flag and not the white one. Herford replied that as he wa
s a medical officer and solely interested in the wounded the Red Cross flag was sufficient. This was not an argument they were prepared to accept. They agreed to treat him as a special prisoner and said that the next day he would be sent to see the Chief Regional Medical Officer, Lieutenant Colonel Sangerling, who might be able to assist with the evacuation of the casualties.
Herford was then driven to another location near the town of Ede where he spent the night in some very uncomfortable accommodation: a cold room with no mattress and only one blanket. There was an armed guard posted outside his window. As he lay shivering in the darkness he admitted to himself that he had probably embarked on a fool’s errand.
When Herford failed to return with his companions he was posted as ‘missing, suspected POW’. As soon as the news reached his old friend Johnny Johnston, he wrote to Herford’s parents, giving his frank assessment of the situation:
I have notified over 100 men as ‘missing’ in this war; they are just posted as missing for a very long time until official confirmation (of death) comes through. I therefore agree with you entirely about the War Office not saying ‘believed POW’ unless it’s very sure of itself… Personally I’ve no doubt that he’s safe and well although a POW. In fact I’m sure of it and frankly am not as worried about him as I would be if he was just ‘missing’. And what’s more it’s nearly over now and it won’t be long till he’s restored to you again… That is of course, if he doesn’t escape in the meantime, and I’d not put it past him! Bet he’ll be a pain in the neck to any Germans he has to deal with officially… How proud you must be of him. You know, the magnificent Arnhem show was just his cup of tea. I know of no other friend who was so guaranteed to produce the goods under conditions like that as Martin. Here’s hoping when he comes out that he has that DSO to pin up.