大象传媒

continued from 15a

The Worcesters had just driven the Germans from a row of houses near the river and were carrying out mopping-up operations in the area nearby. With the departure of the Germans the villagers turned out to greet us their happy, smiling faces expressing more eloquently than words ever could their great pleasure at being free at last. A small group of them joined us as we stood beside the carrier, shaking our hands and chattering excitedly in an amusing mixture of Dutch and school-taught English. One lovely young lady, blonde, blue-eyed, and wearing a pale blue and white jumper that seemed to be two sizes too small for her and merely served to accentuate her natural charms, stood at the front of the group saying nothing but looking supremely happy.
Our driver (not Alf or Nobby on this occasion, but no names, no pack drill) leaned on his rifle wlth his arms folded across it and eyed her from head to foot and back again in undisguised admiration while she, undoubtedly reading his dirty thoughts, continued to smile broadly but said nothing. Finally, he could keep his thoughts to himself no longer. "Cor, I'd love a night in bed with you," he breathed.
The girl burst out laughing, and replied, in perfect English, 鈥淵es, I've no doubt you would."

The night was dark and still. Captain Woodward stood a few yards away from the carrier trying to pierce the darkness as he kept a sharp lookout. The rest of us occupied our usual places in the carrier. When we spoke, it was in hushed tones. Even the radio was turned down as low as possible. Occasionally, I would have to make a call, or reply to one, but there was nothing urgent about them, just routine calls to make sure we were still in touch with each other on the Battery net. It had been like this for some time, with nothing happening where we were yet so much happening not far away. The calm before the storm?
Then, quite unexpectedly, an unfamiliar voice broke into the silence of the night. "Hello, Fox Three. Hello, Fox Three. Message for Fox One. Report my signals. Fox Three to Fox One, over."
It did not concern me, but I pricked up my ears, nevertheless. It was always useful to know what was happening elsewhere. I heard no reply to the call. There followed a long pause, then Fox Three repeated his call. Again, I heard no reply. Another long pause, then the call was repeated again. Still no reply.
The Fox Three operator then went silent. I was about to dismiss it as just another unfortunate O.P. signaller who had lost contact with his opposite number when another unfamiliar voice interposed.
"Hello, Fox One. Hello, Fox One. Message for Fox Three. Report my signals. Fox One to Fox Three, over."
I listened with interest for Fox Three's reply, but there was none. Fox One repeated his call, but again I heard no reply. After a long pause the call was repeated a second time, but still there was no reply. Fox One then went silent.
Captain Woodward had moved closer to the carrier when he heard the voices. Now he moved closer still. "Who was that?" he asked, quietly.
"Two other O.P.s trying to contact one another but having no luck," I replied. I thought for a moment then made a decision. "If I can hear them O.K., they might be able to hear me. I'II try to help them. "
Captain Woodward nodded his approval.
Remembering the German operator who had tried to contact me in Normandy I decided to go straight in with my message without asking for report of signals. I did not want to be mistaken for a German interloper. The situation might be serious for the Fox operators. "Hello, Peter Three. Hello, Peter Three. Message for Fox One. Fox Three has been asking you for report of signals. Did you hear him? Peter Three to Fox One, over."
A long silence followed, and I began to wonder whether he had heard me or not. If he had, he would know I had given him information that only he and his fellow signallers on their Battery net would know about. He would probably be having a quiet discussion with his officer before deciding whether to reply or not. Then to my great satisfaction came a reply. "Hello, Fox One. Hello, Fox One. Message for Peter Three. No. Nothing heard from Fox Three. Fox One to Peter Three, over."
"Roger. Out to you," I replied. Then I called Fox Three. "Hello, Peter Three. Hello, Peter Three. Message for Fox Three. Fox One has been calling you for report of signals. Did you hear him? Peter Three to Fox Three, over."
The Fox Three operator replied immediately. He had evidently heard me call Fox One and knew I was in contact with him. No, he had heard nothing from Fox One. I then told Fox Three, "You cannot
hear him and he cannot hear you, but I can hear both of you strength five. If you have a message for him I will relay it for you."
He gave me the message, which was simply the coded map reference of his new location. I relayed the information to Fox One and asked him if he had any message for Fox Three. "No. This is what I wanted to know." he replied.
"Roger," I replied. Peter Three to Fox One and Fox Three, good luck, out."
It was most satisfying to have been able to help two unknown fellow signallers out of their difficulty, for I know they would have done the same for me had our positions been reversed. There were no set rules for such an emergency. It was one of the "unwritten laws" of signalling.
Shortly after my transmission ended Bert Hawkins called from B.H.Q. "Hello. Peter Three. Hello. Peter Three. Well done. Out."
More than once during the battle for Arnhem the German tanks attacked and cut the main road north of Nijmegen, thus cutting off the whole of XXX Corps. This soon began to have unfortunate results for us. We gradually ran out of necessities food, ammunition and, worst of all in the opinion of some, smokes! We were so short of ammunition at one time that we had orders not to fire unless the target was of vital importance and we could be sure of hitting it. We were restricted to only five rounds per day for the whole regiment. Five rounds between twenty-four guns: And we were up there to try to help the hard-pressed airborne men fighting in the town. Because of the shortage of food we were ordered to live off the land, and so armed men went out in trucks day by day in search of food to supplement our dwindling rations. One of our trucks drove along a narrow lane on this grub-hunting mission and stopped near a gateway to observe a barn-Iike building that stood in the middle of a field. Beyond the field was a large wood, and vehicle tracks were visible in the grass between the barn and the wood. Our men studied the tracks for a while and decided it might be worth their while to wait and see what made them. The time was then 11.00 hours. At twelve-noon precisely a truck emerged from the wood and bumped slowly across the field and stopped in front of the barn. German soldiers clambered out and entered the barn, and for some minutes they were busy carrying various cartons and boxes from the barn to the truck before driving back the way they had come, and vanished into the wood.
Our men remained where they were and waited to see what might happen next. Nothing did. They kept watch until 15.00 hours and then decided it was safe for them to investigate. They found the barn to be a German ration store, and helped themselves. The incident was repeated the next day, with the Germans drawing their rations at 12 noon and we drawing ours at 15.00 hours. And for the next few days, until the main road was cleared and our regular supplies started to get through to us again, we had the comical situation of both British and German troops drawing rations from the same store without the Germans apparently being any the wiser.

We in Roger Dog were observing from our position on the south bank of the River Lek when we received orders to relieve "C" Troop O.P. who were in position further along the riverbank and were now required elsewhere. The light was fading quickly and the rain had begun to fall steadily as we bumped cautiously along the rough track towards Roger Charlie's last reported position, trying to make as little noise as possible because of the proximity of German troops. We found Roger Charlie parked alongside a five-foot high brick wall that surrounded the garden of a large, square-built house that stood at the top of a field that sloped gently down towards the river. The owner must have been a market gardener, because the field next to the house was full of cabbages.
Having parked Roger Dog behind the wall to the rear of the house, where it would be safe from anything but a direct hit, we joined our "C" Troop colleagues, and after exchanging a few dubious pleasantries and giving each other what information we could on the local situation. They warned us, "Don't make any noise. Jerry's just across the river." As if we didn't know. They then climbed into their carrier and charged away as fast as they could, making almost as much noise as a squadron of tanks.
The noise of their departure must have carried for miles on the still night air, and the Germans reacted immediately, opening fire with everything. Bullets and mortar bombs hit the house continuously. Bombs that did not hit the house landed in the immediate vicinity. It was obvious we could not use the house as our O.P. while Jerry was treating it so roughly. We would have to find somewhere else, and quickly. As there was no other building in sight, and no high feature that would do for an O.P., we made our way across the cabbage field, with me trailing the remote control cable behind me. The steady rain had turned the soil into thick, soft mud that stuck to our boots in heavy clumps and made quick movement impossible. By sheer chance we came upon a slit trench about a hundred yards from the house and dropped thankfully into it. It was a good one, with a thick layer of almost-new straw in the bottom and deep enough to be safe from anything but a direct hit. It appeared to have been dug only recently, because the straw was so clean, as if it had not felt the weight of soldiers' feet. Whether it was German or British mattered not.
As soon as I had connected the spare headset and mike to the remote control cable I called up the others on the Battery net and was relieved to find I still had good contact with all of them. The continuous bumping and jolting of the Bren carrier could easily knock the radio off frequency, and sometimes did if the frequency dial was not securely locked on, and a hundred yards or so one way or the other in one's location could make all the difference between good reception and no reception at all. In a forward area such as this, good radio contact was vital.
The rain started to fall more heavily and continued unabated, making the night a thoroughly miserable one for us. We would obviously have preferred the relative comfort of the house but not while it was receiving Jerry鈥檚 attention.
The downpour increased steadily and so did our discomfort. Constantly moving our feet to try to keep them warm and to prevent stiffness in our legs soon churned the bottom of the trench into thick, oozing mud. Soaked to the skin and thoroughly uncomfortable we peered into the darkness for possible signs of the enemy, who might reasonably be on our side of the river for all we knew, and I made occasional quiet calls on the radio to make sure we still had communication with the rest of the Battery.
At about 02.00 hours, with Jerry still having an occasional goat the house, the quiet burblings in my headset changed suddenly to a loud, continuous hum. I turned my head sharply and stared in alarm across the cabbage field to where Roger Dog was parked and was dismayed to see a faint green glow emanating from the carrier. "Oh, hell:" I ejaculated.
"What's wrong?" Captain Woodward asked.
"I think the set's shorted."
Pulling myself out of the trench I squelched and slithered across the field to the carrier, the dripping cabbages slapping against my legs as if trying to restrain me. When I reached the carrier my fears were well founded. The little green light on the top of the radio glowed eerily in the darkness. It should not light up at all except during a transmission. There was a canvas cover fitted to the top of the set and I had draped this over the front of the set to protect it from the rain before leaving to go to the trench, but even so, the steady downpour had somehow managed to seep into the set and caused a short-circuit. I could now neither send nor receive. I switched the set off and returned to the trench. Until the set dried out, or until a line-laying party should bring a telephone line up to us, we had no means of communication with anyone. We were isolated.
The attack on the house died away slowly, with only an occasional missile being directed at it, but the rain continued to fall steadily, and just as the dreary grey dawn came we climbed stiffly out of the trench and headed for the house, having decided it was now safe for us to do so.
We occupied a rear ground floor room; the back of the house being furthest away from the enemy and therefore safest from a direct hit and tried to prepare a hasty breakfast to put some warmth into our chilled bodies. Our continued silence since the radio packed up would have caused some concern to the Battery by now and someone might have done something to try to establish the reason for it.
We did not know, as we waited for someone to arrive, what had been happening a little further along the river. The Polish airborne troops had been contacted and some supplies had been taken across the river. It was a start, but it was not enough. The airborne were being very hard-pressed. The horseshoe pocket they held was not big enough for a relief landing to be made behind it, and the country was completely overlooked by the Germans and offered no hope of an assault crossing in strength. Arnhem itself was in enemy hands. These factors led to the order for the withdrawal of the airborne troops from the north bank of the Lek. To carry out the withdrawal necessitated the widening of the tiny bridgehead in which the airborne were now confined. With their backs to the river they were now completely enfiladed from both flanks.
To relieve the German pressure on the airborne and allow them to pullout, the 4th Dorsets crossed the river at night. Carrying their boats down to the water's edge under cover of darkness they were mortared and machine-gunned and their assault boats holed before they could be launched. Their gallant rescue attempt was fraught with the greatest difficulties. It could only be undertaken at night, because the high ground on the north bank gave the enemy full observation and made a daylight attempt impossible.
The first troops began to cross at 01.30 hours, ferried over by Royal Engineers. Some boats were hit and sank, others were carried downstream by the fast current. By daylight the elements of four Companies were across but were pinned down by close-range enemy fire as they landed.
Led by their battalion commander, Lt. Col. C. Tilly, shouting "There they are. Get 鈥榚rn with the bayonet," they fought their way in small groups up the steep slope to the high ground which was their objective. The colonel was missing as a result of this action, which succeeded in relieving the pressure on the airborne and allow the preparations for their withdrawal to be made. A link-up was established with the airborne headquarters while the infantry on the south bank fought to hold the bridgehead open and the artillery fired constant barrages across the river.
The evacuation of the airborne was planned for the next night. To keep the enemy guessing, a feint attack, complete with its own artillery barrage, and all preparations for an assault crossing, was staged downstream. The Bren gun carriers of the 8th Middlesex, with Vickers machine guns mounted, confused the enemy further by dashing along the river bank firing their guns continuously. With Bofors of the L.A.A, Regiment laying two lanes of tracers as directional fire the airborne quietly withdrew to the north bank, where Royal Engineers waited for them in assault boats. Meanwhile, the Dorsets were fighting and holding on in the woods, covering the withdrawal.
Over two thousand men of the Airborne Division were evacuated that night. The Dorsets fought on, mostly unaware that the evacuation was taking place. Of the 250 men of the battalion, with their forward observation party, who crossed the river to enable the men of the Airborne Division to evacuate, 170 did not return. A gallant sacrifice had been made for the sake of the Airborne.
We in Roger Dog had been the forward observation party with the 4th Dorsets in many actions since landing in Normandy, and we were to support them in many more before the war in Europe ended, but on this occasion another Field Regiment in the Division was ordered to provide the support. Someone Up There was being kind to us that night.
The Division fought on for fourteen days on the "island" north of Nijmegen, hard and difficult fighting in the worst conditions. In clearing the area west of the road to Arnhem and holding it against a number of determined counter-attacks, and the enemy infiltrating across the river, every unit of the 43rd. Division was fully engaged.
Because of the persistent heavy rain the low-lying ground, much of it below sea level, quickly became a quagmire. Tanks, guns and trucks got bogged down in it under their own weight. In twenty- four hours the Division did not gain a single yard.
In the words of General Sir Brian Horrocks, Commander of XXX Corps, in a television broadcast about the battle in 1957, "It seemed as if even the gods wept for us."

漏 Copyright of content contributed to this Archive rests with the author. Find out how you can use this.