Arnhem

by William F Buckingham

  The MARKET first lift was the largest single concentration of military transport aircraft ever assembled for an airborne operation, with the powered component numbering 1,534 machines.8 Of these, 332 were Armstrong Whitworth Albemarles, Handley Page Halifaxes, Douglas Dakotas and Short Stirlings belonging to RAF Nos. 38 and 46 Groups, with the remainder being Douglas C-47s from the USAAF 50th, 52nd and 53rd Troop Carrier Wings.9 The unpowered component consisted of at least 491 gliders.10 The bulk of these were British Airspeed Horsas, with a payload of just over three tons, while at least thirteen were General Aircraft Hamilcars with a wingspan of 110 feet and a payload of almost eight tons.11 All carried British troops or equipment for the 1st Airborne Division, and were towed by RAF aircraft from Nos. 38 and 46 Groups. The remainder were approximately 120 US-built Waco CG4s carrying artillery pieces, Jeeps and equipment for the 82nd and 101st Airborne Divisions. These machines were only available thanks to an extraordinary effort by the US 26th Mobile Repair and Reclamation Squadron based at Cookham Common just west of London. The Airborne landings in Normandy had used up virtually the entire stock of Waco CG4 gliders in the UK and by the beginning of July 1944 normal replacement procedures had provided just over a thousand machines, only sufficient for a single division lift. The 926-strong Squadron therefore set up a three-shift assembly line system on 8 August capable of assembling sixty gliders per day, rising to a peak of 100 on one occasion. Thus by 15 September 2,160 CG 4s were available, ninety per cent of which were deployed for MARKET. This, however, raised the problem of who was to fly them, for by mid-September there were only 2,060 US glider pilots in the UK. After consultation with Major-General Williams, Brereton authorised US gliders to fly into Holland with just one pilot and no co-pilot to take over in an emergency; the reaction of the glider pilots and their passengers to this decree does not appear to have been recorded, but can be well imagined.12

  The MARKET first lift thus involved over 2,000 aircraft and gliders from twenty-four separate airfields spread across an area fifty miles or more west of London, and 100 miles north of the capital in the East Midlands.13 Consequently the Air Plan, which involved marshalling this aerial throng, directing it out across the North Sea via two waypoints and ensuring the lead elements were in place to deliver their loads at precisely the same time, was a masterpiece of staff work in its own right. The aircraft were organised using two assembly points: Hatfield north of London for aircraft flying from the western airfields, and March in Cambridgeshire for those flying from airfields in the East Midlands. The glider tugs, which were all based in the west, were scheduled to take off first, partly because they were slower than the parachute transports and partly because of the location of their launch airfields. In order to gain height and formation these serials initially flew west, some as far as the Bristol Channel, before wheeling through 180 degrees and joining the western-based parachute transports carrying the 101st Airborne Division. From there the glider element flew east-north-east for almost 100 miles to rendezvous with the parachute transports carrying the 1st and 82nd Airborne Divisions from the East Midlands over Aldeburgh on the Sussex coast. Once assembled, the aerial armada divided to follow two separate paths to the landing areas in Holland. The Northern Route leading to Nijmegen and Arnhem crossed the Suffolk coast at Aldeburgh, codenamed ANTIGUA, and ran south-east over a ship-borne beacon codenamed TAMPA for around 100 miles to the island of Schouwen just off the Dutch coast, codenamed BERMUDA; the route was also reassuringly marked by the presence of seventeen rescue launches. At approximately the halfway point the formation was to be joined by a further fifty-six glider combinations from Manston in Kent and at this point the British glider component was organised into three adjacent streams one-and-a-half miles apart and occupying a corridor of sky up to 100 miles long.14 At BERMUDA the route doglegged almost due east to a point just north of Eindhoven, where the stream split again, the aircraft and gliders carrying the 1st Airborne Division peeling off to the north toward Arnhem while those carrying the 82nd Airborne Division continued on to the Grave and Nijmegen landing areas.

  The Southern Route, which was assigned exclusively to the 101st Airborne Division, ran east from Hatfield for almost fifty miles to the Essex coast near Harwich. It then veered south-east across the Thames Estuary to the tip of the Kent coast near Margate and then east across the mouth of the English Channel with the route again marked by ten patrolling rescue launches. After crossing the coast near Ostend the route continued east past Antwerp to a point just south of the Albert Canal where it turned north over Bourg Leopold and the GARDEN jump-off line and headed for the landing areas just north of Eindhoven. After delivering their loads the three sections of the armada were to wheel through 180 degrees and retrace the same route back to their home bases to prepare for the second lift the following day. In addition to the electronic EUREKA beacons, marker and rescue boats stationed on the over water legs to aid navigation, the transport armada also enjoyed extensive fighter cover. The Northern Route was protected by a total of 371 RAF Mosquitoes, Spitfires and Tempests, while the US 8th Air Force provided 548 P-38 Lightnings, P-47 Thunderbolts and P-51 Mustangs to protect the Southern Route.15 Sixty per cent of the fighters were assigned escort duties, while the remainder provided a rolling flak suppression effort for the fly-in.16

  The 05:00 reveille noted by Staff Sergeant Miller at Fairford appears to have been applied to the British Airborne troops across the board, given that at Grimsthorpe the 1st Parachute Battalion ‘arose from sleep at an unwarranted hour’ for a relatively leisurely breakfast.17 At Grantham, Private James Sims from the 2nd Parachute Battalion was sagely advised to ‘have a good breakfast as you don’t know when you’ll get your next meal’, and a ‘good breakfast’ also figured in the 1st Battalion The Border Regiment’s account of the early morning of 17 September.18 The atmosphere for the meal was generally light and confident but not universally so. At Manston in Kent elements of the 2nd Battalion South Staffords and the 1st Airlanding Light Regiment RA were served by WAAFs, and the morale value of the breakfast may have been offset to some extent by the sight of some of the latter crying at the prospect of their customer’s imminent departure for battle.19 With breakfast and presumably muster parade out of the way, the British Airborne units ensconced in their regular billets were trucked to their designated airfields from 07:00. The length of journey varied. The 1st Parachute Battalion travelled fifteen miles from Grimsthorpe to the 61st Troop Carrier Group’s base at Barkston Heath, for example, while the 2nd and 3rd Parachute Battalions’ billets at Grantham and Spalding were eight and thirty miles respectively from the 314th Troop Carrier Group’s airfield at Saltby. The bulk of the 1st Airlanding Brigade appears to have been moved from its base at Woodhall Spa in Lincolnshire to temporary billets nearer the western cluster of airfields housing the RAF’s glider tug units in preparation for MARKET; the 1st Border Regiment, for example, were billeted at Burford, six miles from No. 512 Squadron’s base at Broadwell.20

  As they were already at their airfields, the men of the US Airborne divisions went back to their accommodation after breakfast to collect their personal equipment, and then marched or were trucked out to the C-47s and Waco CG4s drawn up alongside runways and perimeter tracks. NCOs in charge of sticks were issued slips with their aircraft number, which was also chalked on the aircraft. The 1st and 2nd Battalions of the 506th Parachute Infantry Regiment at Membury experienced some difficulty locating their C-47s in the fog, and Private Burgett’s platoon encountered the additional problem of their sergeant being given an incorrect aircraft number. The troops then went into immediate pre-jump routine, packing and mounting A5 Parapacks, the large padded containers for supplies and heavy equipment carried on special racks beneath the aircraft or delivered via the passenger door in mid-stick. The parachutes attached to the Parapacks were colour-coded for easy identification: red or yellow for ammunition and explosives, blue for rations, green for fuel and white for signals equipment or medical supplies; lights with intercha
ngeable coloured lenses could also be fitted for night drops.21 Parachutes were trucked out to the aircraft, and Burgett’s stick was allotted T7 models, the standard US T5 parachute modified with a quick-release box similar to that employed on the British X-type parachute. The modification was carried out in-theatre by Divisional riggers, as a number of US paratroopers had drowned in Normandy after being dragged into flooded areas by their uncollapsed canopies before they could undo the numerous harness buckles or cut themselves free with the knives most US paratroopers carried for the purpose. As a Normandy veteran Burgett welcomed the modification, but some of his companions complained vociferously, apparently worried in case the box disengaged prematurely.22

  It also appears to have been US procedure to issue ammunition at this point, again by truck drop-off, although it is unclear whether this included individual basic loads as well as ammunition for crew-served weapons and explosives. According to Burgett, every man in his stick carried two cans of .30 belt, two bazooka rounds, two mortar bombs, blocks of C2 plastic explosive, blasting caps, lengths of detcord fuse and possibly an anti-tank mine in addition to water, three days’ K and D rations, spare clothing, combat equipment and personal weapon, parachute, reserve parachute and Mae West life preserver.23 While a considerable physical burden that meant most paratroopers were unable to board their C-47s without assistance, this was a logical precaution for troops operating behind enemy lines with tenuous resupply arrangements. It was also standard procedure across the board. Brigadier-General Gavin referred to his troopers from the 82nd Airborne Division loading themselves ‘with all the ammunition and anti-tank mines they could carry’ as a result of experience in Normandy, and to ordering that an additional 700 anti-tank mines be distributed across each of his three Parachute Infantry Regiments.24 Neither was this an exclusively US practice. Trooper Arthur Barlow from the 1st Airborne Reconnaissance Squadron used ‘dozens of packets of spare Sten gun ammunition’ as protective packing for a No.38 radio in his parachute kitbag, for example.25 Major Michael Forman, commander of B Company, 7th King’s Own Scottish Borderers (KOSB) made an unexpected discovery on inspecting his men shortly before take-off from Down Ampney. Virtually every man had augmented his load with so much extra ammunition that Forman feared the additional weight would unbalance their Horsa gliders; he therefore ordered it all to be left behind.26

  At the British airfields trucks dropped the glider plots, their passengers and sticks of paratroopers off by their aircraft, where they carried out last-minute checks and fitted parachutes. Their mood appears to have been less serious than that of their US counterparts, presumably because the bulk of the preparatory work had already been done. At Fairford, Staff-Sergeant Miller rechecked the instruments and load lashing of his Horsa with his co-pilot Sergeant Hollingsworth and chatted briefly with his passengers while an RAF photographer filmed the scene. Duty done, he then lay down on the dew-wet grass to enjoy the sunshine.27 Some members of the 1st Airborne Reconnaissance Squadron’s glider component spent the run-up to take-off at Tarrant Rushton chalking nicknames and ribald comments on the sides of their Horsas. This graffiti was analysed in a post-battle intelligence report by Hauptsturmführer Sepp Krafft, the commander of SS Panzergrenadier Ausbildungs und Ersatz Bataillon 16, in an attempt to discern the political conviction of the British troops. It is unclear what National Socialist conclusions were drawn from inscriptions like ‘West Ham for the Cup’ and ‘Get up them fucking stairs’.28 Morale was boosted at all locations by the liberal distribution from canteen trucks of ‘char and wads’, slang for hot, sweet tea and bacon sandwiches; Captain Stanley Panter from the 2nd Parachute Battalion spent many hungry days in captivity after MARKET bemoaning the fact that he had abandoned a half-eaten sandwich on the wing of his C-47 at Saltby.29 Private James Sims’ recollections of this period provide an illuminating insight into the atmosphere on the eve of take-off:

  Someone dished out great mugs of tea and bacon sandwiches, and a camera crew on a truck came along and filmed us. We jumped about and waved our mugs in the air. The excitement was beginning to build up, everyone was laughing and shouting; the atmosphere had suddenly become like a school outing or picnic. All our doubts seemed to be swept away in a sudden surge of confidence. At last we were going and we somehow knew that this time there would be no stand-down.30

  The Airborne throng on the glider lift airfields also contained a few more august individuals. At Harwell the commander of the Glider Pilot Regiment, Colonel George Chatterton, had elected to fly the Horsa carrying Lieutenant-General Browning and noted the light-hearted atmosphere and the studied elegance of his distinguished passenger: ‘He [Browning] came to the glider immaculately dressed in a barathea battle-dress with a highly polished Sam Browne belt, knife-edge creased trousers, leather revolver holster, all gleaming like glass, a swagger cane in one hand and wearing kid gloves. He was in tremendous form because he realized that he had reached one of the climaxes in his career. There was immense gaiety everywhere.’ Once aboard Browning took station on an upturned Worthington beer crate placed between and just to the rear of the pilot’s seats.31 Major-General Urquhart, who was slated to fly in a Horsa from Fairford, also had a high-ranking pilot, Lieutenant-Colonel Iain Murray, the commander of No.1 Wing The Glider Pilot Regiment. Urquhart was accompanied by his ADC Captain Graham Roberts, Captain George Pare the No. 1 Wing padre, Urquhart’s batman Private Hancock, a signaller and two Military Policemen as a personal escort, presumably drawn from the 1st Airborne Division Provost Company; the body of the Horsa was loaded with Urquhart’s radio-equipped personal Jeep and two motorcycles for the MPs.32 As he was preparing to board Urquhart was approached by his Operations Officer, Lieutenant-Colonel Charles Mackenzie, regarding a USAAF query about bombing the Wolfheze mental asylum, located in the woods just east of LZ Z and a six-wagon flak train on a siding nearby. The Americans were willing to carry out the attack, but only if 1st Airborne Division took responsibility, which Mackenzie had already done on Urquhart’s behalf. The mission was scheduled to be carried out an hour before the landing commenced.33

  Although it has attracted little if any comment, what came next was to have a direct and detrimental impact on subsequent events at Arnhem, and raises doubts about Urquhart’s grasp of precisely what he was involved in. Sources vary as to who initiated the exchange, but according to Urquhart’s biography Mackenzie then enquired as to how command of the Division was to devolve in the event of Urquhart being ‘put out of battle’.34 The upshot was that command of the 1st Airborne Division was to devolve in the first instance to the commander of the 1st Parachute Brigade, Brigadier Lathbury, a decision that may have been already communicated in general terms to the Division’s senior commanders. Next in line was to be Brigadier Philip Hicks, commanding the 1st Airlanding Brigade, and then the commander of the 4th Parachute Brigade, Brigadier John Hackett. Although Hackett was senior in time-in-rank to Hicks, the latter had more experience as an infantry commander as the former had been a cavalryman before joining Airborne Forces. The controversial aspect here is not Urquhart’s decision, but the time at which it was taken. Taking a conventional formation into battle without resolving such basic precautions and ensuring they were disseminated and acknowledged by all concerned would have been questionable, if not negligent. To do so in an Airborne operation was certainly negligent and arguably a dereliction of duty, for the vagaries of tow-rope failure, aero-engine malfunction, enemy action or landing accident meant there was absolutely no guarantee that anyone would reach the landing area in Holland in a fit state to carry out their duties. Urquhart’s failure in this regard, and more importantly that of any of his staff or subordinates to advise him of his error, would appear to be a further manifestation of the unwarranted overconfidence that infected the 1st Airborne Division. It also provides additional evidence that Urquhart had not really grasped the fundamental differences between Airborne command and operations and their conventional counterparts. He was shortly to confirm this contention on t
he ground in Holland.

  By 09:00 the fog that had complicated the 506th Parachute Infantry Regiment’s march to their aircraft at Membury had dissipated in the sun, and the weather was ‘fine and clear except for some broken cumulus cloud’.35 The MARKET force thus began to take off at 09:45, starting with the glider combinations from the airfields in Berkshire and the West Country.36 If not already drawn up in staggered rows on the end of runways, the gliders were towed forward onto the runway and attached to their tugs. Horsas used thick, 300-foot-long hemp ropes with an integrated radio-telephone cable to allow speech communication between glider and tug, while the US CG4 employed a nylon cable just under an inch in diameter. Staff-Sergeant Miller’s account of a Horsa take-off from Fairford provides a graphic insight into the process that followed:

  We swung into the space just vacated…The ground crew plugged the tow-rope into our glider and the tug. Our glider vibrated in the slipstream from the Stirling…The controller stood with the yellow disc raised. I looked at Tom. O.K. Nodding at the controller, I raised my left thumb. Down flashed the yellow disc. The tug began to creep forward, taking up the slack of the rope. I heard the tug pilot call over the intercom ‘Brakes off, Number Two!’…We rolled forward. Shooting a glance to one side, I saw the line of men and WAAFs waving farewell. I raised one arm in reply, and then switched my eyes back to the tug, the tail of which was swinging violently from side to side. I kicked the rudder one way and then the other to take the strain off the Stirling. Glider and tug lined up…I watched the airspeed creep up, forty, fifty, sixty mph…The tail of the Stirling lifted gradually off the ground. Levelling off, I hugged the runway ten feet up. The Horsa trembled under the impact of the tug’s slipstream beating up from the runway. It was hard to hold her level. One wing dipped, over went the wheel to correct…Our airspeed clocked 110 mph…We were climbing rapidly, and a moment later the hedge at the end of the runway…slid underneath – we were away.37