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XI. Crossing the Albert Canal, Belgium and Onward to Tripsrath, Germany.
Albert Canal and Oostham, Belgium, Driel, Holland, Tripsrath, Germany

The Albert Canal, a formidable defensive moat blocking the advance Northeast had been bridged by the Guards Armoured Division; 鈥楤鈥� Squadron followed in their wake. It was now September 9th. After crossing the bridge we swung left to the village of Beverloo. However the driver reported that there was no charge showing on the ammeter and he would have to investigate. He pulled into a field and attempted to rectify the fault but unsuccessfully. Whilst he was trying I watched the removal of the remains of a crew of a tank that had been hit. An armour piercing shot on one side pierced the turret; the opposite side where it had emerged was splayed out like the petals of a tulip. Ropes were being used to pull the remains out of the turret hatch; the bodies bent, charred, angular and rigid were difficult to remove.
The mechanics were back at the Canal so we retraced our route and headed back. The mechanics truck was parked next to a block of warehouses with a cobbled area in front. There was a nondescript platoon of armed civilians on parade in front of the warehouses; the commander was an attractive middle aged woman in tweed suit and high heels. I enquired from an onlooker who could speak English what it was all about. He replied that it was the Belgian Resistance Movement - the Maquis - parading for the first time after the liberation and the person in the tweed costume and sensible shoes was a man and their Major in command of the unit; he had assumed the disguise and outwitted the enemy during the occupation.
The mechanics soon got cracking to tackle the problem watched by members of the Maquis, with an enemy paratrooper they had found in a nearby wood. He was very bedraggled and engaged in eating an equally bedraggled piece of bread, obviously in a state of near starvation. He had been hiding in the woods for some time.
The mechanics working on the battery in the turret,
traversed the gun for access and, unknown to the mechanic, it pointed at the paratrooper鈥檚 head. This was thought to be a great jest by the Maquis; the German still tearing at the bread received a kick on the backside to draw his attention to it. He lunged at his tormentors, who led him away.
The paratrooper could have been a survivor of an attack on our A.1 Echelon - the supply lorries - which was staged by a force of about 50 enemy paratroopers when a number of lorries were set on fire by machine gun bullets. Amongst the casualties the Squadron Sergeant Major - the 鈥楻at鈥�, was captured. When the lads heard about this berets were thrown in the air with a really mighty cheer.
We had instructions to join the Troop at Oostham (see Appendix IV) but were told to make a detour across country and not to go directly down the road as it was being guarded by the enemy with a flame thrower. We met up with the Troop on the left flank of the village. We were leading and as we passed a large barn on our left, part of a group of farm buildings, there was a loud bang as an armour piercing shell whizzed inches past the turret. A frantic order to bale out was given by our commander, the Second Lieutenant, but Ken countermanded it. The driver reversed the tank back but within a few yards was stopped by thick trees. We waited with the engine switched off for the source of the shell to appear from behind the farm buildings, but in vain. The Troop Sergeant鈥檚 鈥楽herman Firefly鈥� tank was parked next to a roadside chapel with the Troop Leader鈥檚 tank further back. The Troop Leader, with considerable courage, ran over from his tank to assess the situation himself and gave orders to get out of it. As he was getting down from our turret there was an explosion from the vicinity of the chapel. and smoke and flames came from the Troop Sergeant鈥檚 tank. With great haste we accelerated out of the copse in which we were trapped and raced back past the chapel. The driver was lying next to the tracks of his tank waving frantically for us to get the hell out of it. By this time it was getting late so we harboured in the middle of a field, mounting guard crouched beside the tank. We waited and concentrated so much that the shadows appeared to move, and welcomed first light.
Fifty-seven years later I met up again with the driver, Tom. The Troop Sergeant had courageously dismounted to make a reconnaissance and was capturing eight German parachutists, for that was what they were, when he himself was surrounded and captured. Stan, the gunner was keeping watch from the turret when a parachutist climbed on to the tank from the rear and shot him and threw a grenade into the turret. Tom baled out slightly wounded and as he lay on the ground by the tank he could hear the screams of John, the operator dying in the turret. Tom had seen the enemy in the nearby copse with 鈥楶anzerfaust鈥� bazookas and so with selfless courage waved us away from danger.
In 1999 the Mayor and Council of Oostham erected a Memorial in front of the Church to John and Stan and to the two officers in the King鈥檚 Royal Rifle Corps who lost their lives during the liberation of the town. The community of Oostham and 150 Old Comrades of the Market Garden Veteran鈥檚 Association attended the Service of Dedication.
If we had infantry with us they would have spotted what was going on and taken appropriate action. As it was we were without infantry - why? The Germans worked in close co-operation with infantry. A SP (Self-Propelled gun) with a detachment of infantry worked together assisting each other, the infantry observing for the armoured vehicle, which gave any covering fire required.
The 鈥楶anzerfaust鈥� was a hand held one-shot bazooka which could penetrate 200mm of armour at 30 metres. During the latter stages of the war Hitler was of the opinion that production of this valuable weapon was being slowed down in order to hasten peace. To counteract the effect of this weapon chain link on steel framing was attached to the side of the Shermans in the hope that the bazooka would glance off. This DIY was additional ironmongery to the track plates welded on the front and the turret to give additional protection.
During an offensive we were following another tank skirting the edge of a copse when the gunner spotted a German with a Panzerfaust ready to fire. The gunner in his haste fired the main 75mm gun instead of the machine gun. After the action we went to the copse and found the German 鈥� a massive man 鈥� decapitated by the shot. As we entered the copse I called 鈥榃akey Wakey鈥� and was quite rightly admonished by a crewmember. It worried me that I could be so callous.
Bourg Leopold - 鈥楾he Town of Leopold鈥�. King Leopold capitulated to the Germans, opening the French left flank to their Panzers. Most likely his motive was to save the population from another rampage through his country in conflict between the English and the Germans. General Petain of France could also have been influenced by the sight of the numerous War Memorials with their long list of names in every French town and village.
Well, we arrived outside the town and set up a ring of tanks similar to the wagons of the Voortreckers, in a large field. The Germans were in the vicinity but this did not deter us from going on our evening exploration to have a look at the town.
We walked into the town through a damp wood and learnt that there was a magnificent party going on; soldiers and inhabitants celebrating the liberation. Before we could join in there were several explosions nearby so we returned quickly to the tanks. Guards were posted around the tanks several hundred yards into the field. Instead of the customary two, it was decided that to give the troops a rest, there would only be one on duty - the real reason because it would give an opportunity for those who had been celebrating to sober up.
I was given the stint 02.00 hours; I crawled out in the pitch-black night and managed to find the guard I was relieving. and lay down in the thick, wet grass with my 鈥楽ten鈥� gun, eyes straining in the blackness. Then I heard a rustle as though someone was crawling through the grass; nearer it came, nearer. and nearer. Should I blast away with my 鈥楽ten鈥� gun; shout 鈥淲ho goes there, stop or I fire鈥� in the approved manner, or do nothing until I could see the whites of their eyes. I did nothing and just as well as the large black bulk of a browsing cow emerged out of the black backdrop.
The town was eventually cleared of the Germans and billets found for rest and recuperation.
We had acquired a large rabbit, a 鈥楤elgian Hare鈥�, which shared our accommodation in the tank. It never strayed far when let out to graze and became a popular companion living in the driver鈥檚 compartment. During our stay in Bourg Leopold we went off to Brussels for a two-day break. The driver gave the rabbit to a friend who was one of the cooks to look after. On our return we discovered it had been eaten.
The highlight of the Brussels trip was getting a shampoo and haircut at an upmarket hairdresser. The black water in the marble basin didn鈥檛 look quite right. Sightseeing by tram was over the heads of the passengers hanging onto the outside. It was good to be back in civilisation once more and to sleep in a decent bed in a hotel.
On our return, with great enterprise and ingenuity a show was organised and it became obvious that the unit had a lot of theatrical talent. A star turn was the gunner of the Troop Leader鈥檚 tank who sang 鈥楽tardust鈥� He had served in the Western Desert before being posted to our unit. He was killed during the action at Tripsrath in November.
From Bourg Leopold the plan was an attempt to cut the Germans off in Holland, outflanking the Siegfried Line, the German fortifications on the border, and opening up the path to Northern Germany - Operation Market Garden.
The object of the exercise was to meet up with and relieve the Paras who were to be dropped to capture the bridges at Graves, Nijmegen and Arnhem. The route of the attack was to be the width of the road only. We were to follow the Guards Armoured Division who were leading the assault. The problem of course, attacking on such a narrow front with a long tail back, was the possibility of flank attacks by the Germans cutting off the supply route and reinforcements.
As we motored North alerts became frequent and it was necessary to stop and take up positions behind trees lining the road. Every minute of advance meant two miles of exposed flanks.
The American Paras had successfully taken the bridge at Graves so we pushed on to Nijmegen, which we reached without any difficulty.
We parked in the open square just before the bridge. The town was obviously short of food and we were besieged for anything we could spare. The Dutch Resistance put in an appearance solemnly parading around the Square two Dutch girls, their heads shaved and carrying placards 鈥楳off Geg鈥� - German Prostitutes - as they had consorted with the German troops. It was a pity the Resistance had nothing better to do. Later when we had returned to Nijmegen I was detailed to pick up some potatoes from a nearby Nunnery. The nuns had taken the two girls into their protection and given them wigs to cover their bald heads.
It was decided to cross the river by the rail bridge. Whilst we were waiting to go across the co-driver was found wandering about with amnesia. The Squadron Leader sent him to casualty from whence he was invalided home.
The Squadron pushed on with the Duke of Cornwalls
Light Infantry riding on the tanks in an attempt to reach the Polish Airborne Brigade at Driel to the west of Arnhem.
It was extremely hot and dusty. The column of tanks was held up and it transpired later that two enemy 鈥楶anther鈥� tanks, thinking that it was one of their retreating units, joined in but were soon knocked out by an infantry man with a 鈥楶iat鈥� anti-tank gun. It was getting dusk when the leading tanks ran over mines set by the Paras but there were no casualties.
We dismounted and spoke to the Polish Paras. They gave lurid accounts of cutting up Germans 鈥榣ike bifsteks鈥� with their knives and how they swam across the river when outflanked.
The village of Driel lay opposite to where the 1st Airborne had landed. We found a billet in a deserted house with a cellar next to the embankment. During the night the area came under heavy shelling so much of the night was spent in the cellar. The next day an attempt was made to get a DUKW - a 鈥楧uck鈥� or an amphibious truck into the river but the operation was abandoned as it became bogged down in the soft mud of the riverbank.
That night I spent the small hours of the morning on guard. I wandered from the house to stretch my legs, when in the middle of the road and very exposed a star shell turned the pitch black of the night into day. I stood stock-still hoping that I would not be spotted, but it soon went out and the night returned to peace and darkness. During the day we watched 鈥楧akota鈥� aircraft, flying nose to tail and very low, dropping supplies to the beleaguered Paras on the other side of the river.
We received instructions to take a Para Brigadier, who knew the area, to Nijmegen. That meant going straight back along the road we had come on, with the possibility that it was under surveillance by German troops. We put the Brigadier in the co-driver鈥檚 seat, which was vacant, and commanded by the Troop Leader, went hell for leather down the road. Unfortunately fallen overhead telegraph wires that festooned the road caught the commander across the mouth knocking out some of his teeth but we pressed on. After arriving at Nijmegen with the Brigadier we were told to go back to Driel.
Next morning we attacked towards Arnhem along the top of the embankment but had to withdraw because of the heavy enemy opposition,
The following day we retired South of Arnhem to what was described as 鈥楾he Island鈥� for a rest and harboured in an apple orchard.
In the sitting room of the house there was a glass cabinet displaying china and on a centre shelf a very nice china clock. The Troop Leader warned the Troop about looting and said that he didn鈥檛 want the contents of the cabinet touched. As we were leaving I remembered I had left my small pack in the house so I got out of the tank and returned to the sitting room for it. As I grabbed my small pack and was running out I glanced at the cabinet. The contents were tact, except for an empty space where the clock should have been.
It was November with the weather worsening. Arnhem was not captured so we could not go north, so the strategy was to attempt a breakthrough Southeast. We passed through the hamlet of
Mook on the edge of the Reichswald Forest. In the distance we saw an ammunition train stationary and well alight with its cargo exploding, sending up clouds of black smoke. In a field densely packed with crashed gliders the wings poked into the air, criss-crossed with fuselages and tails, just like a Nash 鈥楾otes Mere鈥�.
The resting-place that night was a railway siding, the billet a ganger鈥檚 hut that had goats in it. We chose instead a railway wagon for our sleep. That night the Germans shelled the siding, during which we feared the worst, spending the night flat out in the wagon. In the morning 鈥楻oger the Railway Gun鈥� the Germans were using down the line, had hit the goat hut.
The next port of call was Brunssum, a small town on the Dutch German border. Our billet was a skittle alley much used at all hours of the night by the local Resistance with the German collaborators under their care doing all the cleaning and cooking.
One morning I was told to report to the Squadron Leader鈥檚 office which had been set up in a house. The SSM said 鈥榟ats off鈥� and I marched in and learnt that I was being sent back to 鈥楤lighty鈥� for a commission, a week from the next Saturday. I found the news very welcome. That same week, however, the attack was to begin on Germany, crossing the border to capture the village of Tripsrath. The weather had broken, with rain and still more rain.
The 鈥楽herman鈥� was impossible in mud, as the tracks were too narrow to bear the weight of the tank in soft ground. The 鈥楶anther鈥� had wide tracks, very suitable for soft going or rocky terrain as we found out at Jurques. We soon got bogged down in a field. The driver and I dismounted to get another tank to tow us out. Ken didn鈥檛 leave the turret, watching from the hatchway as we laboured away to get the hitch on to our tank. There was a cry from the turret and Ken disappeared inside. Sensing something was wrong, I climbed up and he reappeared; he had been shot. A bullet from a sniper鈥檚 gun had nicked him on the side of the neck. He asked me if there was a hole in the back of his neck as well. I assured him if there was he would be dead. I bandaged him up with his field dressing standing beside the turret without thinking that I might be a target for the sniper. I was very lucky he was unable for some reason to shoot me.
The Troop Leader told Ken to go back to find a Field Dressing Station. His request for me to go back with him was refused so off he went with his small pack of precious cigarettes.
Afterwards he told me he was very bitter about having to walk back a long way on his own, fearing that he might collapse. The bullet took away his collar fastening and the button on his left shoulder epaulette.
We started off; the roads jammed with transport, troops and Bren gun carriers going to the front, in miserable weather. To get past a jam we went up a bank; the turret, heavy with track plates welded on for extra protection slewed round. The 75mm gun hit a tree head on resulting in it recoiling, spewing out a high explosive shell into the turret where it bounced on the floor. I hastily slammed it back into the breach of the gun.

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