'With Recce at Arhem'
'With Recce at Arhem'
The experiences of a British soldier who parachuted into Arnhem on the first day of Operation Market Garden
As the anniversary of Arnhem, September 1944, approaches a few memoirs of the battle have been re-released. This week’s excerpt comes from With Recce at Arnhem: The Recollections of Trooper Des Evans – a 1st Airborne Division Veteran.
This is a graphic first-person account from a member of the Reconnaissance Corps who dropped alongside the Paratroop Regiment in the first stages of Operation Market Garden. This is not a guide to the battle but is very much one man’s experience - of combat and of the aftermath as a POW. A must-read for those with an interest in Arnhem.
The following excerpt captures the jolting series of episodes during Evan’s very first few hours in the battle:
Crossing the Dutch coast in perfect weather conditions our thoughts and reveries, sitting in the aircraft, were shattered as the German anti-aircraft fire opened up on us. The fighters dipped and dived, took them on and silenced them. Revelling in our complete superiority of the skies, again we felt that nothing could stop us now. The good weather continued all the way to the objective, the landing and dropping zones near the village of Wolfheze. 'Stand to the door,' seemed to come quickly, although the journey had in fact taken almost four hours. The dispatcher was standing by the open door.
The red light was on, changing so quickly, it seemed, to green. We shuffled towards the door, following the man immediately ahead, fiddling nervously with equipment, hoping that everything was in place and functioning correctly. No time to think now, we really were committed.
Leap into space, the ground seemed close; hold your breath while the static line pays out. The harness snaps around your body and you gasp with relief as that beau- tiful canopy opens above you. Very little wind, good! Pay out the line on your drop- bag strapped to your leg, it hits the ground, your descent slows and then your feet meet terra firma. Great! Piece of cake! No problems!
Canopy collapses, hit the quick release, and join your mates as soon as possible. Everyone feels alone when making a jump. It's a strictly personal thing. Open the drop-bag, grab rifle, ammo - oh! Get this bloody over-smock off - always a damn nuisance. Now then where are we? Fol- low the crowd. Jeeps come into view, familiar faces with a variety of expressions. 'Come on', someone shouts, 'We've got to get to that fucking bridge".
We joined our sections - mine was No 9, under Second Lieutenant Sam Bowles. Our driver was Bill Edmond, a likeable Scot. The Para battalions were forming up around us; they'd have to cover seven miles to the bridge on their flat feet. This, we all knew, was the biggest drawback to the operation; the element of surprise would be lost having to cover the distance between ourselves and the bridge at Arnhem. It would not require any great tactical genius on the enemy side to realize that the great bridge over the Neder Rijn was our target. The Recce Squadron brief was uncomplicated: 'Get to the bridge'.
So setting off on our various routes the Troops split up. 'C' Troop headed towards the railway crossing at Wolfheze station. Before crossing the line we turned left onto a track which was parallel with the railway. The first German we saw looked as if he was snoozing in the sun, sitting down against a fence post. The hole in his helmet, through which his blood still dripped, shattered the illusion. There was an ack-ack train of Bofors guns on the railway line that had been hammered by our fighters the day before; it was just so much scrap metal.
We were startled when another German, who had been hiding in a ditch nearby, jumped up with his hands in the air. The Dutch Commando attached to our Troop, got hold of him, hustled him into the woods and simply shot him.
Within minutes of this happening firing broke out ahead of us and we heard the order for 'Dismounted Action'. Leaping off our Jeeps we sought cover. Most of the firing seemed to be coming from the woods at right angles to the track and immediately ahead of us and some of our lads were caught out in the open ground. At least two of our Jeeps were captured and the lads taken prison.
At this juncture I was still wearing my steel helmet and lying down facing the enemy. I was surprised to see our Medical Officer Captain Swinscow stand up waving the Red Cross Flag. There was a shot from somewhere on my right and he went down.
The weight of my helmet caused an ache in the back of my neck so I rested it for a while with the front of the helmet on the ground. As I looked up a bullet whizzed in front of my face, shattering a small twig near my left hand - I'd looked up just in time.
I couldn't make out where the shot had come from but assumed it was probably fired by the same man who had shot the MO. As the place was getting too hot for comfort I scrambled to my knees; he fired again and this shot hit the bandolier of ammo slung across my chest. Two close calls in as many minutes! (I managed to keep the two damaged rounds that had deflected the bullet until I was thoroughly searched as a PoW. The great loutish oaf of a German found them and confiscated them).
Hearing movement behind me, I turned to see members of the Glider Pilot Regiment who had been sent to relieve us. Those big chaps came up to me and asked casually, 'anything happening then?' I was quick to tell them that there was a sniper busy on our right and that he'd shot our MO. They didn't take very kindly to this and after a look round they headed across the railway to the opposite side.
As soon as I saw where they were going I realized where the sniper was hiding and mentally kicked myself for not realizing sooner. There was a large bush beside the railway and as the pilots approached it a German emerged with a rather sickly smile on his face and his hands in the air. He did not smile for long however; three bayonets were thrust into his body and really wiped the smile of his face.
'C' Troop withdrew back to Wolfheze. Taking our wounded with us we placed them in the care of our wounded MO who despite his own wounds, started work right away. A Dutch house had been taken over for the purpose with the enthusiastic consent of the lady who lived there. Bill Edmond, my Jeep driver, had been killed during the action. I'll always remember him as a man who was extremely fond of his wife and was never reluctant to say so. He was buried in a temporary field grave opposite the house that held the wounded. Bill had died with one hand outstretched in order to save himself as he fell, rigor mortis had set in and this hand was sticking out of the blanket.
A little later a Dutch lady approached us with the suggestion that our dead be buried in her garden. We were pleased to do this, so Bill was disinterred and moved. Later I used his original field grave as a slit trench!
After we'd reorganized we tried another route to Arnhem. Evening was closing in so there was not much time before darkness descended. There was firing ahead of us and within minutes we came across a German car which had been riddled with bul- lets. The three occupants - a German General, his aide de camp and his driver - were sprawled in grotesque, unnatural positions, quite dead. They had been driving towards Arnhem, oblivious to the presence of so many British troops; men from the 3rd Battalion Parachute Regiment saw the car and just opened up on it.
This excerpt from With Recce at Arnhem: The Recollections of Trooper Des Evans – a 1st Airborne Division Veteran appears by kind permission of Pen & Sword Books Ltd. Copyright remains with the author.