大象传媒

This story is about my great Grandfather, he wrote it in 1946/7. He passed away in May 2004.

Arnhem

It was about 2pm on Sunday 17 September 1944, that the blood-chilling order, "Stand to the door", rang through the plane in which I with 19 others had flown from England to take part in the Airbourne assault on Arnhem. I was jumping No.4 so on hearing the order I closed up on No.3 gripping his static line ready to throw it clear as he jumped. No.1 was already in position, hands grasping the sides of the door, eyes glued to the little panel where any moment now a red light would appear to be followed seconds later by a green. That green light was the signal for a leap into space. I cast a hasty glance back along the plane: each face was tense and set but as I caught someone' eye here and there each managed a smile of assurance. I looked back to the panel. Then it came. Green. There was a sudden shuffling, three hasty steps forward, a breath-taking rush of air, a soft crack and I was swinging in the air with a canopy of silk over my head. Seconds later I was lying on my back in a ditch, gazing into a blue sky. So I arrived in Holland.

The next half-hour was spent getting organised on the ground, each unit for it's own particular rendezvous. The plan was for one Batt. to make it's way with all possible speed to Arnhem, 8 miles away, and hold the bridge till the rest of the Div. came through as they were expected to do either late on Sunday night or early Monday morning. As it happened none of the Div. save the assualt group ever reached the bridge.

My place was with the troops who were to make the first attack. We moved off on foot but as we went on more and more men seemed to acquire bicycles some of them taken from stray German troops who has the misfortune to run into us. Eventually our own jeeps, landed by glider, caught up with us and as many of us as possible climbed on to them. We advanced along with some spasmodic opposition. It was about 8 pm and darkness was falling when we fought our way into the outskirts of the town of Arnhem. As we advanced between the houses a hidden machine gun opened up on my party killing one of my mates who had survived the North African and Italian Campaigns with me. We had just dealt with this post when a burst of firing broke out from the river which lay on our right hand. The firing was coming from a barge which was floating down the river in the darkness. The firing was erratic so we simply took cover till the barger went out of range.

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