The collapsing bag strategy also worked well on the recently contested south-eastern aspect of the perimeter. The support units pulled out first, with the 1st Airlanding Light Regiment RA receiving the order to move from Captain Ronald Hayward, the Electrical and Mechanical (EME) Officer at HQ RA, who carried the order in person from the Hotel Hartenstein.126 1, 2 and 3 Battery moved first at around 22:00 followed by Regimental HQ; as 3 Battery was the only portion of the Regiment to remain in its gun positions after the fighting earlier in the day, the others likely concentrated there before moving off; the sights and breech blocks had been removed from the Regiment’s guns after the last of the 75mm ammunition had been fired off earlier.127 Lieutenant Wladyslaw Mleczko and his 3 Troop from the Polish Brigade’s Anti-tank Battery moved off at the same time. The Troop had been deployed on the Benedendorpsweg from Wednesday 20 September, and appears to have lost the last of its four 6-Pounder guns in the Monday fighting. Lieutenant Mleczko had despatched Bombardier Stanislaw Nosecki to pass the word of the upcoming evacuation to his men in their dispersed locations with orders to concentrate at the Oosterbeek Old Church ready to move off at 22:00, although most were already aware courtesy of adjacent British units. Before moving off into the darkness and deluge Lieutenant Mleczko briefed his men that if they had not gained passage on a boat by 03:00 it was every man for himself and they were to either swim for it, as Mleczko intended to do, or ‘take a chance and wait for whatever might happen’. In the event there was no need for the domesday scenario as Lieutenant Mleczko, Bombardier Nosecki and around a dozen anti-tank gunners who had come in on the third glider lift made the crossing to the south bank at 02:00 after a lengthy wait.128
The infantry units manning the perimeter began to withdraw around an hour later, beginning with the LONSDALE Force units straddling the Benedendorpsweg east of the Oosterbeek Old Church. The 1st Parachute Battalion withdrew from its positions at 23:00 after silencing some unspecified enemy activity, taking its walking wounded and leaving the non-ambulatory cases ‘where the enemy would find them’; the entire party was reported as being on the south bank by 04:00.129 The 3rd and 11th Parachute Battalion pulled out thirty minutes later, the former numbering around thirty effectives, all of whom reportedly reached the safety of the south bank accompanied by an unknown number of walking wounded; the remaining casualties were ensconced in a cellar, the location of which was passed to the RAP.130 The 11th Parachute Battalion rendezvoused at the Oosterbeek Old Church before moving off, possibly under the command of Lieutenant James Blackwood. Details are sparse as Lieutenant Blackwood was wounded at some point and as he noted in the 11th Parachute Battalion War Diary, ‘I cannot say how 11 Bn fared. I was blind with blood and field dressing and lost touch with my men in the darkness, crossing the river myself with 1st Bn personnel’; according to Middlebrook seventy-two paratroopers from the Battalion were evacuated.131 Last out was the 2nd South Staffords party, which was detailed to withdraw no earlier than 23:45 and ‘thus had the honour of covering the withdrawal’.132 Equipment that could not be carried out was smashed in place at 23:30 and Major John Buchanan commanding Support Company passed the word to move to the South Staffords dug in near the Oosterbeek Old Church. A newly shaven Major Robert Cain from B Company did the same for the contingent at the Laundry. The withdrawal to the embarkation point went without incident apart from the usual random German mortaring and machine-gun fire and appears to have been concluded quickly, given that Lieutenant Donald Edwards and the remains of C Company’s 17 Platoon reportedly joined the back of the queue for a boat at 01:00.133 The honour of being the last away led to an unclear number of South Staffords still being on the north bank when the crossing was ended at dawn, but between 124 and 139 members of the 2nd South Staffords crossed the Lower Rhine to safety.134
At the disembarkation point on the south bank the number of casualties being ferried across the river or sustained during the crossing rapidly became a major problem. As the Canadians had not been briefed to expect wounded no reception arrangements had been made and the 23rd Field Company’s two-man RAP in the culvert under the summer dyke struggled to cope; over the course of the night Lance-Corporal Roseborough and Sapper McDonald treated sixty-nine stretcher cases and 100 walking wounded. Many of the Canadian Sappers gave up their greatcoats for use as blankets or improvised stretchers.135 The unexpected burden also impacted on the 23rd Field Company’s ability to perform its primary task; as the unit War Diary put it, ‘Caring for all these casualties proved a great drain on man power of the Coy and prevented adequate relief for the boat carrying parties and boat crews.’136 This, together with the numbers of able-bodied evacuees moving along the route from the riverside and churning up the ground, likely explains why although the first increment of storm boats was launched at twenty-minute intervals. It took until 03:00 to get all fourteen craft into the water; salvaging the three vessels from the truck overturned at the entrance to the orchard unloading site caused further delay.137 Casualty-handling arrangements had been made but further up the chain of command, at a conference at 130 Brigade HQ at Homoet at 07:00 on 25 September and a second at Nijmegen at 12:30; the attendees included 1st Airborne Corps Deputy Director Medical services Brigadier Arthur Eagger, the DDMS from 30 Corps, Major Henry Richards commanding the RAMC detachment from 1st Airborne Division HQ’s Seaborne Echelon, and the acting commander of 163 Field Ambulance in the absence of Lieutenant-Colonel Herford, a Major Mackenzie. 163 Field Ambulance was to operate an MDS at Valburg while 130 Field Ambulance from the 43rd Division was to set up a Casualty Collection Post (CCP) near the evacuee transit area in the south-west outskirts of Driel, and also establish an RAP in the orchard near the disembarkation point.138 However, the latter was only intended to handle any casualties incurred during crossing or while operating the disembarkation point and the number of casualties rapidly began to back up there, as noted by Brigadier Eagger and Major Richards when they visited the RAP at 23:30, which was also under heavy mortar fire. The problem was a lack of transport to move the casualties down the medical evacuation chain, which led to the CCP at Driel also being obliged to retain casualties.139 The situation was alleviated initially by the trucks from the 551st General Transport Company RASC, which began to ferry casualties back once its vehicles had shed their loads of storm boats, assisted by 3-ton trucks from the 5th Dorsets according to Sliz.140 The problem was reportedly solved eventually by a fleet of forty medically adapted Jeeps gathered at the CCP by the 43rd Division’s Assistant Quarter Master General (AQMG) Lieutenant-Colonel J. McCance, as these were the only vehicles that could ‘…master the narrow, slippery roads back from Driel’.141 This was presumably the pool of vehicles from which the 43rd Division’s Deputy Assistant Director Medical Services promised to provide some ‘ambulance cars’ for Major Richards when he visited the CCP at 01:00, and the source of the five ambulance Jeeps that Richards procured to move casualties back from the orchard RAP.142 The Jeeps, reportedly in conjunction with the ‘genius for administrative improvisation’ of Lieutenant-Colonel McCance and the 43rd Division ADMS, Colonel K. A. M. Tomory, appear to have ultimately done the trick as by 05:00 casualties were ‘being cleared fairly well’ despite enemy mortar fire on the area around the CCP and nearby roads.143
The constant German machine-gun and mortar fire may have fallen disproportionately on the disembarkation point owing to German observers on the Westerbouwing Heights opposite. Sergeant George King running the Canadian refuelling point recalled German flares repeatedly illuminating the beach: ‘the water was just boiling with machine-gun fire, 88’s would burst in the air…Every time a flare went up, we dove under the water. The river was boiling, just boiling!’144 Alarming as it may have been the German fire on the south bank does not appear to have been particularly effective, given that the Canadian Sappers stationed on the south bank suffered only four wounded in the course of the operation. Sappers D. E. Francis and J. P. LeTouqueux were wounded by a mortar bomb near Major Tucker’s Command Post on the beach. Sergeant
Donald Barnes and Lieutenant Kennedy’s driver Sapper Ronald McKee were hit by shell fragments in the orchard; Sapper McKee died later that night after being evacuated, likely in the CCP at Driel.145
The exemplary behaviour of the Airborne soldiers awaiting passage has been commented upon in most accounts of the battle. The 1st Border War Diary noted that ‘The discipline of the Bn was beyond praise, especially during the long wait on the “flats”.’ Cholewczynski noted that ‘the Poles constantly marvelled at the Red Devils’ discipline as they patiently waited for evacuation.’146 Unsurprisingly given the ordeal they had undergone for the previous nine days the discipline was a little brittle, however, and the Airborne soldiers were sometimes callous when it came to the boats. Lieutenant-Colonel Preston recalled the reaction to a storm boat drawing into the bank, men ‘scrambling and heaving themselves into it from all directions…In a moment the boat had filled with men, and those still trying to clamber in were prevented from doing so by those already there [and] were falling into the water or onto the shore.’ Preston was nonetheless able to restore order with a whispered warning that the vessel was in danger of capsizing.147 During a lull in the shelling Sergeant David Christie from the 1st Airborne Reconnaissance Squadron recalled a loud scream, reportedly from a drowning man, elicited a response of ‘If he has to die, why the hell should he make such a bastard noise about it?’ from another man in the queue, concerned lest the noise attract German fire.148 The Sappers’ official records are critical. The 260 Field Company War Diary refers to ‘Difficulty in marshalling airborne troops for loading in spite of officers & NCOs on far bank supervising job’, while the 23rd Field Company War Diary noted that it was ‘impossible to regulate the number of passengers carried in the boats … in many cases they had to be beaten off or threatened with shooting to avoid having the boat swamped.’149 Such threats were the exception rather than the rule, although the Airborne troop’s discipline became more ragged as time went on and the fear of being abandoned on the north bank grew.
As 260 Field Company’s assault boats plied their way back and forth across the Lower Rhine their numbers diminished over time. As we have seen one craft was hit by a shell and two more were swamped by the wake from Canadian storm boats, which were capable of twenty knots when moving unladen; the unit War Diary refers to the Canadian boats being a ‘nuisance’ in this regard and to some men being lost from one of the swamped craft, although it is unclear if the missing men were 260 Field Company personnel or evacuees. A combination of the current, fatigue and an increase in the strength of the wind obliged an increase in the assault boat crews from four to six at some point, with a concomitant reduction in lift capacity; by 05:00 this made the assault boats ‘practically unmanageable’ and the effort was called off an hour later. The Sappers were reportedly ‘extremely tired but pleased’ with their efforts, although there was apparently some resentment when a radio report announced, two days later, ‘that the job was done by Canadians’.150 Nonetheless, the bulk of the lifting across the Lower Rhine fell upon the 23rd Field Company due to the larger capacity and motorised nature of its equipment The number of storm boats was again reduced over the course of the night, and all fourteen of the 23rd Field Company’s craft were never operating simultaneously. According to a Private Charlton from the 1st Parachute Battalion, by 02:00 the boats ‘had reduced to six or seven’, while Lieutenant Cronyn claimed there were likely ‘no more than three or four in use at [any] one time’.151 This could have been because the storm boats were damaged by enemy fire or rough handling while the craft were being carried across the dykes, because the craft had to be replaced after being holed by striking underwater obstacles when beaching or by enemy fire during the crossings. The five craft held in reserve were therefore rapidly used up.152 There was also the matter of refuelling, which was required after approximately an hour’s running and temporarily removed storm boats from the cross-river shuttle. This was no easy task in the rain-sodden zone of fire and a good deal of petrol was lost in transit between the orchard and the refuelling point on the beach; as Sapper William Richardson put it, ‘We spilled so much that I think we lost more than we brought forward.’153
The biggest brake upon the Canadian Sapper’s activities in fact proved to be the fifty-horsepower Evinrude outboard motors.154 The Evinrude was a US-produced civilian item that had performed satisfactorily during training in the UK and in carrying the 10th Canadian Infantry Brigade across the Seine at the end of August 1944, but which was found wanting in the prevailing conditions on the Lower Rhine on the night of 25-26 September. The problem was inadequate waterproofing that allowed the heavy rain and backwash created by beaching the vessels at speed to penetrate the motor’s electrical circuits and spark plugs, which resulted in multiple and repeated failure of the motors.155 This was especially dangerous in mid-crossing and not just due to the fast-running current, as the heavily laden craft were vulnerable to swamping by movement from their passengers or, like the unpowered assault boats, the wash from their fully powered brethren; Lieutenant John Stevenson from the 1st Airborne Reconnaissance Squadron noted that the storm boat that carried him across the Lower Rhine had only half an inch between the water and the gunwales.156 Hitching a tow from a functioning craft presented the same risk swelled by a much slower rate of progress in the face of the current and enemy fire, although it was done successfully on at least one occasion. The motor of the craft carrying Private John Crosson from the 7th KOSB failed to start after loading at around 02:00: ‘Another boat came alongside to load up. Our sapper persuaded its pilot to give us a tow across. This was very slow progress [and] it seemed like ages before a bump was felt as both boats arrived on the south bank.’157 The waterlogged motors were swapped out for functioning items by men from the maintenance Section from the 10th Field Park Company RCE who then carried them to a small hole in the riverbank dubbed ‘the Shop’, where Lance-Corporal Arthur Gamble and Sapper Earl Fisher dried out the electrics and spark plugs, immersing the plugs in a pan of burning petrol. The work of swapping out, drying and restarting the malfunctioning motors continued all night.158 The engine failures also prompted spectacular outbursts of foul language from the operators. As Major Alan Bush from the 3rd Parachute Battalion remembered, after the motor of his storm boat cut out in midstream, ‘I thought I had heard every oath in the English language but I heard a few new ones from those Canadians until they got it going again.’159 Lieutenant Stevenson had a similar experience when the motor on his storm boat refused to start after loading: ‘the Canadian engineer pulled at the lanyard to start the outboard motor, but nothing happened…All the time he was pulling away, he kept saying “The bastard ‒ the bastard ‒ the bastard” when suddenly it “phut-phutted” into life and we were away.’160
The Canadian Sappers made in the region of 150 round trips across the Lower Rhine in the course of the night; the unit War Diary declared: ‘All of the boat crews were magnificent, and only gave up their ferrying when their boats were no longer operable or else when they were exhausted and had to be ordered from the beach.’161 The capacity of the storm boats was ten, although it is unclear if this included the three-man crew employed by the Canadians, but the average load brought across was sixteen and, in one instance, thirty-six. Surprisingly in the darkness some storm boat crews spotted and rescued Airborne soldiers attempting to swim to safety. Sergeant Alf Roullier from the 1st Airlanding Light Regiment became disoriented while attempting the swim and was grabbed by the scruff of the neck by a crewman of a passing storm boat who then lifted him into the craft and assured him he was ‘almost home’. Signalman James Cockrill from Division HQ Signals underwent the same process and ‘nearly cried when I found out I was back where I started’ when the empty boat then grounded on the north bank; the storm boat then carried him to safety along with a full load of evacuees. Private Alfred Dullforce from the 10th Parachute Battalion made it all the way across the river under his own steam stripped naked but still carrying his .38 pistol, only to mak
e landfall in front of two Dutch women. They proved to be the less embarrassed about the encounter, and Dullforce made his way to Driel clad in a multicoloured skirt and clogs.162 Not all the swimmers were so lucky. Captain James Ogilvie from D Squadron GPR, who had helped relay the withdrawal order to the Poles on the Stationsweg, drowned while attempting the swim with another Glider Pilot, allegedly due to the weight of his sodden kilt.163
The men of the 23rd Field Company more than lived up to the accolades in the 23rd Field Company after-action report. Corporal George Robinson, who had helped construct the access bridge into the orchard concentration area before carrying the first storm boat over the dykes, also carried the last vessel down to the river at 03:30 and then commanded it for six round trips until it was put out of commission. This may have been the craft reported as making a final trip despite being holed and which sank just short of the south bank in water shallow enough for all aboard to wade ashore.164 Corporal James McLachlan, who made the first successful crossing of the night, was relieved with his crew after making fifteen round trips that lifted approximately 210 men to safety. The leader in this regard, however, was Sapper Raymond LeBouthillier. When his crew was relieved after fourteen crossings Sapper LeBouthillier refused to rest and instead joined another crew and made a further twelve trips across an unbroken five-hour period, during which his vessels lifted over 500 men from the north bank. He made a speciality of leaping from the storm boat to physically prevent it beaching too hard to offset the Evinrude motor’s lack of a reverse gear, and to prevent the backwash from a fast beaching from swamping the engine. On several occasions he deliberately directed his boat to the outer edges of the crossing lane and called out for any Airborne troops unable to make it to the embarkation point, and only desisted when exhaustion led to a direct order to leave the beach. Sapper LeBouthillier’s performance was justifiably rated as ‘outstanding’ and he was awarded the Military Medal in recognition of his actions.165
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