Arnhem.

It's a name out of myth and legend for paratroopers and WWII history buffs alike. In a single word one captures both the highest and lowest attributes of soldiering; irrepressible courage and fierce tenacity shackled by ego and rigidity, the folly of underestimating one's enemy, the rank idiocy of ignoring the facts in front of one's face because that just doesn't fit with The Plan. It's a name that evokes a Shakespearean sense of tragedy, of men and women embarked upon a path that, in retrospect, is doomed to failure, death and destruction; but despite the awful circumstances, these people display the most extraordinary character, often beyond what they thought themselves capable of, and thus write themselves into legend.

Driving down from Amsterdam in the rain along the A10 autoway, the chills I felt upon seeing the name Arnhem were definitely from more than just the cold rain off the North Sea that had blasted me when I'd stopped to buy a road map. Being both a former paratrooper and a WWII buff, I've wanted to see this place since I was a boy younger than Ben. (And I wish I could have shared it, and the stories of those men & women, with him.)

Amsterdam lies northwest of Arnhem, and Arnhem is the northernmost part of the battlefield, so it's the place one reaches first; kind of backwards, but I decided I'd roll with the geography and stop at what is regarded as the best museum devoted to the battle, the Airborne Musuem Hartenstein, located in Oosterbeek, a few miles west of Arnhem, and the place where the British paras dropped. (And thus problem #1 for the Brits - they dropped too far from the bridge.) The building was formerly the Hartenstein Hotel, but became the HQ of the British 1st Airborne, the center of their final perimeter, and eventually filled with wounded. Along the way, I drove through the town of Wolfheze, scene of much heavy fighting, with the initial British drop zones in fields to my right as I drove south.

Unfortunately, the museum was closed for renovations, with construction equipment everywhere. This was unfortunate because I'd planned to pick up more detailed local maps and hopefully a copy of "Major & Mrs. Holt's Battlefield Guide Operation Market-Garden", the definitive guidebook.



And you need a guidebook, because WWII battlefields aren't giant parks like our surviving Civil War and Revolutionary War battlefields, full of explanatory markers of dubious historic accuracy or Park Service employees (who generally, at the national level, are pretty good where history is concerned). The drop zones are farmer's fields. What was a strongpoint is someone's house, the aid station a church or cafe. The place where a Medal of Honor or Victoria Cross was won is a spot on a dike, a piece of lonely hedgerow-lined Norman road, a small declivity in a bit of Dutch woods; sometimes there's a marker, sometimes there isn't. Monuments are present, but they tend to be smaller, generally put up by the locals or by a group of veterans. These battles were fought in and around where people live and work, school their children and walk their dogs. Often those battles flattened the homes and businesses of their parents or grandparents. (More on that below.)

So I poked around outside and wound up chatting with a Dutch couple who were actually just hikers and didn't realize that this had been one of the major battle sites of WWII. Shifting my car to a spot where it wouldn't be side-swiped by a dump truck and muttering the old saw "It doesn't rain in the Army, it rains on the Army" and set off to visit a monument across the road.


This is one of the largest monuments I saw in Holland. It was built just after the war, designed by noted Dutch sculptor Jac Maris (who designed a number of monuments and sculptures both here and in Nijmegen). There are benches around the monument with the following inscribed upon them:

"September 1944 The British 1st Airborne Reconnaissance Squadron fought to its end here. Sit here and enjoy the peace for which they fought and died."

The major British cemetery lies nearby, so I headed there next.
















The British practice at the time was to bury their war dead not far from where they fell, so rather than one gigantic mega-cemetery like the American one at Coleville-sur-Mer in Normandy, one finds these smaller, more intimate places - if the word applies to the resting place of over 1700 men. Thus, this cemetery holds the remains of British paratroopers, glider pilots, air crew and the few non-Airborne troops who died north of the Rhine. It's also where the Polish paratroopers who crossed the Rhine in an attempt to reinforce the 1st Airborne and died alongside their allies are buried.

The British also allowed the next-of-kin, if any existed, to choose the inscription on the headstone. While one certainly finds more than a few quotes from Henry V and "a place forever England", there are often indescribably personal, searingly emotional passages as well. On the headstone of one paratrooper, a sergeant and father of four: "Goodnight, Daddy". I'm not ashamed to say that reduced me to tears, and it took me a few minutes to compose myself.

I wound up driving into Arnhem proper next. Of the nearly 12,000 men in the 1st Airborne and its attachments, only one battalion - the 2nd Paras under Lt. Colonel John Frost - along with some engineers and a mixed-bag of men from other units - made it to the area around the brdige itself. They seized the north end on the evening of the 17th, and held it against overwhelming German force for four days. In the process, the Germans absolutely flattened this part of Arnhem.


The bridge (as in Nijmegen, the original collapsed later in the war and a faithful replacement built) now named the John Frostbrug.


A marker near the bridge. The brown lines represent the outlines of the buildings and blocks as they were in September 1944; the gray shows the buildings today.

One medieval structure somehow survived the fighting - one of the old city gates.



This pillbox, and another across the roadway on the eastern side, prevented the paras from securing the bridge until after nightfall on the 17th, when they were captured with the aid of a flamethrower.

This memorial and roundabout lie at the north end of the 2nd Battalion's perimeter. The broken pillar in the center is debris from the ruined provincial Palais du Justice.

A fairly modern office building now stands on the site of LTC Frost's HQ next to the bridge; this plaque marks the location.

From the bell tower of this church, the Germans had a view of the entire British bridgehead. It lay just outside the British perimeter, which is why the buildings to the left survived, while the ones between the church and where I stood were obliterated.

A school stood here in 1944, across the road from Frost's headquarters. British engineers under Captain Eric Mackay occupied the building to guard the eastern side of the bridge approaches. On the 19th, a German soldier approached under a white flag and said his officer had sent him to discuss surrender. Captain Mackay cheekily replied that he didn't have the facilities to take all the Germans prisoner; the confused German left, and then began demolishing the school and nearby buildings with tanks and assault guns.

Nearby, Lieutenant John Hollington Grayburn won a (posthumus) Victoria Cross while leading a party to disable the fuses on explosives the Germans had placed under the bridge.

By the evening of the 20th, the British positions at the bridge had been overwhelmed. The remainder of the 1st Airborne hunkered down into an ever-shrinking perimeter in Oosterbeek. The Polish paratroopers, originally scheduled to drop on the 18th, finally were dropped south of the river and suffered heavy casualties. They twice attempted to cross the river to reinforce the 1st Airborne, but only a handful of men made it across. Elements of XXX corps finally reached the Rhine, but they too were unable to cross the river in any significant numbers. Finally, on the night of the 25th, somewhere around 2,000 paratroopers (accounts vary) were evacuated back across to the south bank of the Rhine. A few men, including virtually all of the medics and doctors, remained behind with the walking wounded holding the tattered remains of the perimeter.



"TO THE PEOPLE OF GELDERLAND: 50 years ago British & Polish soldiers fought here against overwhelming odds to open the way into Germany and bring the war to an early end. Instead we brought death and destruction, for which you have never blamed us.

This stone marks our admiration for your great courage, remembering especially the women who tended our wounded. In the long winter that followed your families risked death by hiding Allied soldiers and airmen, while members of the Resistance helped many to safety.

You took us then into your homes as fugitives and friends, we took you forever into our hearts. This strong bond will continue long after we are all gone".

The Germans forcibly evacuated the residents from the area, and cut off shipments of food into the country later in the fall. Most of Holland remained in German hands until the end of the war.

65 Years Ago: "Put us down in Holland, or put us down in Hell.."

In June of this year, I got a chance to realize a life-long dream...

On September 17th, 1944, thinking that one swift stroke would bring Germany to its knees and end WWII in Europe, the Allies launched the largest airborne assault in history. Paratroopers from three countries - two divisions of Americans (82nd and 101st Airborne), one division of British (1st Airborne) and Poles (1st Polish Parachute Brigade) parachuted or rode gliders into Holland along a path more than 70 miles long. Their mission: to seize a series of bridges across the many rivers and canals along the route, and secure a corridor for the tanks of the British XXX Corps. The prize: the bridge across the Rhine at Arnhem. This objective was assigned to the British 1st Airborne, with the Polish brigade reinforcing them. The 82nd was assigned the sector to the south, between the Maas (Meuse) river and the Waal river, a branch of the Rhine, and the bridges across these (and several canals as well). The 101st had the southernmost sector, closest to the British lines; they had to seize a number of canal bridges.

They almost won.

The Germans weren't entirely the scratch force of disorganized remnants and green replacements the Allies believed to be holding the sector. A tough force of German paratroopers held the line in the south. The German formations which just a few weeks before had retreated in disarray had somewhat reorganized. And two SS Panzer divisions, the 9th and 10th, were refitting at Arnhem.

They almost lost.

Work sent me to Amsterdam (lovely city, want to go back!) in June, and knowing I might not get a better chance, I took two days vacation to visit some of the northern part of the battlefield - something I'd wanted to do ever since I first read "A Bridge Too Far". With a fading battery in my camera, a couple of maps and a very scanty knowledge of Dutch, I set out to walk some of the ground my Airborne brothers before me had.

My home base for this trip was the Hotel Courage in Nijmegen, right on the river front of the Waal and mere steps from the Waal road bridge, prime objective of the 82nd Airborne. The hotel is the brown building to the left of the Velorama, the Dutch national cycling museum. These two buildings actually date from before the war. On the hill behind the hotel stands the ruins of the Valkhof, a medieval castle built by Charlemagne (and Roman army camp before that).
























These fields a few miles east of Nijmegen - and less then 3 miles from the German border - were the primary drop zone for the 508th Parachute Infantry Regiment, and the northern DZs for the 82nd Airborne. Our family friend, Bill Bladen - who also jumped into Normandy on D-Day - landed somewhere near here.

In Sicily and then in Normandy, the paratroopers had been badly scattered in night drops. Even though this jump would be in daylight, the commander of one battalion of the 508th, Lt. Col. Louis Mendez, told the pilots of the planes that would carry them here:

"Gentlemen," Mendez said coldly, "my officers know this map
of Holland and the drop zones by heart and we're ready to go.  When I
brought my battalion to the briefing prior to Normandy, I had the
finest combat-ready force of its size that will ever be known.  By the
time I gathered them together in Normandy, half were gone.  I charge
you: put us down in Holland or put us down in hell, but put us all down
together in one place, or I will hound you to your graves."

The photo on the left is looking south; Germany lies just down the road to the left. The right photo is looking north, towards the Waal; the ground here is essentially flat all the way to the river. Just west of here is a large wooded ridge called the Grosbeek Heights, also the scene of fierce close combat.

The Germans drove the Americans off the drop zones several times, and at one point were driven off with bayonets.


















There were some spectacular successes. The southern border of the 82nd's zone was the Maas River (Meuse in French), crossed by this bridge near the town of Grave. Lieutenant John S. Thompson, a company commander in the 504th, kept his stick in the plane until they were over the southern bank of the Maas. They jumped and landed not far from this spot. The 16 men then knocked out a pillbox (still standing!) just off the left of this picture, and another next to the road (right). The northern end of the bridge was secured about a half-hour later, and within an hour the 82nds' first objective was firmly in American hands. The bridge is now named after Lieutenant Thompson.

The pictures above show the center of the small town of Beek, between the 82nd's main drop zone and the Waal Bridge at Nijmegen, at the bottom of the northern end of the Grosbeek Heights. It was a major blocking position, keeping the Germans at bay as they attack ed westward along the road towards Nijmegen. Our friend Bill Bladen was wounded during the fighting here in Beek; he was eventually evacuated to England. The photo on the left is one of the few surviving buildings from before the war in town; the right shows a memorial built by the residents to the paratroopers of the 508th.

Here is what both the Germans and Americans were fighting for: the Waal bridge at Nijmegen.

The original Waal bridge collapsed not long after the battle; this replacement was built on the same design on the same location. This shot was taken just a few hundred yards west, or downriver, from the bridg e - from the same spot as the picture above. The 82nd was supposed to seize it on the first day, and it was lightly guarded as the paratroopers hit the drop zone a few miles to the east. But they had dropped too far, and the orders and communications were confused ; by the time the first pa trols reached the bridge approaches, over 200 German troops had deployed to defend the southern end. The bridge was also wired for demolition, and the detonator well-secured on the northern side. It would take four days, British tanks and a valiant daylight river crossing before they would secure their objective.





Looking west, or down-river, to the railroad bridge, also rebuilt after the battle.










On the left below, a bit of the Nijmegen market square. You can tell this area escaped much if not all of the fighting by virtue of the fact that the buildings obviou sly pre-date the war. (The oldest parts of the church date back to 1297, and were part of a replacement for a still-older church on the site. The picture on the right is from about a block away, on the other side of the square, looking roughly south. This entire area - and much of the city for blocks in each direction - were all but flattened during the battle.





















Unable to break through the German defenses in town, and knowing the British were in dire straits a few miles north in Arnhem, General James "Slim Jim" Gavin came up with a bold, if dangerous plan. Since the best way to take a bridge is from both sides at once, he would have force a river crossing downriver, west of the bridge, using boats to be supplied by the British. He tapped a battalion of the 504th Parachute Infantry for this led by Major Julian Cook (played by Robert Redford in the movie "A Bridge Too Far"). They would attack at dawn.

But the boats were delayed, then de layed m ore due G erman counter-attacks and traffic jams on the narrow two-lane road leading to Nijmegen.

Finally, at 3 PM, the Americans pushed off from the southern bank in 28 tiny canvas-and-rubber collapsible assault boats from just to the left of the power plant shown here. There weren't enough paddles to go around, so some of the men used their rifle butts as paddles. The Germans, dug into the dike from which I took this picture and positioned on the railway br idge to the east, took them under intense mortar and machine gun fire. At the time of the battle, the river came up to approximately the line of small trees in the middle distance shown here; under murderous fire, the Americans landed and charged across the muddy ground to the German positions on the dike. Many of the Germans - for the most part older men and young boys - tried to surrender, but the Americans, enraged beyond re ason after their horrific crossing, gave no quarter. The courageous engineers turned their boats around and paddled their ungainly craft around for another wave; they would make the crossing a total of six times that day, September 20th, 1944.

The men of the 504th moved eastward along the dike, securing first the railway bridge and then the north end of the Waal road bridge. The tanks of the Gr enadier Guards rumbled forward. The Germans attempted to blow the bridge, but the wires had been cut by a young member of the Dutch Resistance, Jan van Hoof, and the detonators removed by British soldiers. The Germans fell back. Jan van Hoof was killed by German fire on September 19th, while acting as a guide for Allied forces.

Memorial commemorating the river crossing; the tablet on the ground bears the names of the members of the regiment killed in action during the fight. About 50 yards from this spot on the night of the 21st, Private John Towle won the Medal of Honor for his role repelling a German counter-attack:

For conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity at the risk of life above and beyond the call of duty on 21 September 1944, near Oosterhout, Holland. The rifle company in which Pvt. Towle served as rocket launcher gunner was occupying a defensive position in the west sector of the recently established Nijmegen bridgehead when a strong enemy force of approximately 100 infantry supported by 2 tanks and a half-track formed for a counterattack. With full knowledge of the disastrous consequences resulting not only to his company but to the entire bridgehead by an enemy breakthrough, Pvt. Towle immediately and without orders left his foxhole and moved 200 yards in the face of intense small-arms fire to a position on an exposed dike roadbed. From this precarious position Pvt. Towle fired his rocket launcher at and hit both tanks to his immediate front. Armored skirting on both tanks prevented penetration by the projectiles, but both vehicles withdrew slightly damaged. Still under intense fire and fully exposed to the enemy, Pvt. Towle then engaged a nearby house which 9 Germans had entered and were using as a strongpoint and with 1 round killed all 9. Hurriedly replenishing his supply of ammunition, Pvt. Towle, motivated only by his high conception of duty which called for the destruction of the enemy at any cost, then rushed approximately 125 yards through grazing enemy fire to an exposed position from which he could engage the enemy half-track with his rocket launcher. While in a kneeling position preparatory to firing on the enemy vehicle, Pvt. Towle was mortally wounded by a mortar shell. By his heroic tenacity, at the price of his life, Pvt. Towle saved the lives of many of his comrades and was directly instrumental in breaking up the enemy counterattack.

Arhem lay just a few miles up the road - at the time, a single, two-lane road atop a dike, with soft polder (reclaimed land) on either side...