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f the British column moving up from Eindhoven were
to get help to Allied forces at Arnhem, it had to get across the bridge
over the Waal River at Nijmegen. When it became obvious to Allied
commanders that the Nijmegen bridge was not going to be taken away from
the Germans without the bridge being destroyed, a plan was developed to
get troops across the Waal by boat to attack German forces on the north
side of the river.
The problems were both difficult and dangerous. The
Nijmegen bridge, nearly a half-mile long, was defended by well-armed
German forces on both the south and the north ends; others were on the
structure. The plan called for an Allied attack on the both ends
simultaneously to prevent the Germans on the south from withdrawing
across the span and blowing the bridge. Included in this plan was the
taking of a nearby railroad bridge. On the south would be British armor;
on the north, troopers from the 82nd, who would have to row across the
400-yard-wide river in boats, under very heavy fire. The 82nd was
shorthanded at this time, as weather had delayed the arrival of the
325th Glider Infantry. Moreover, because of the deteriorating situation
in Arnhem, the crossing would have to be made immediately--in daylight.
On 19 September at 2100, General Gavin called the
50th Wing Glider Officer, Maj. Hugh Nevins, and told him to get 295
glider pilots lined up to take the places of the 504th troopers
needed for the river crossing. The GPs, bivouacked near Groesbeek, were
to go into the line on the Groesbeek Heights, which was under constant
attack at the time. Most of the pilots were armed with nothing heavier
than .45-cal. automatics or M-1 carbines; all were volunteers. The
change took place around midnight of 19 September--two GPs into each
foxhole, replacing two troopers. The glider pilots would not sleep for
another 36 hours.
The pilots, though they were spared a frontal
attack, were under steady fire from small arms, machine guns, and hourly
attacks by mortars, 88s, and the “screaming mimis” (Nebelwerfers). However, according to Maj. Nevins, “The single most
devastating ordeal was lack of sleep. . . [which was] really worse than
the enemy fire.” In daylight on 21 September, Maj. Nevins was checking
positions overlooking Mook when he spotted eight of the formidable Tiger
tanks moving in on his lines from the Reichswald. The tanks, “looking
like enormous crawling prehistoric monsters, were creaking up the
railroad around our right flank. If they got behind us, they would
slaughter us piecemeal. Over the field phone, I alerted battalion and
division command posts, asking for anti-tank support as quickly as
possible. I’m sure my voice was shaking.” Within minutes, two
bazooka teams appeared and began to stalk the tanks. When they had crept
up within less than fifty yards of the lead tanks, they cut loose and
“literally detonated the first three tanks.” The others withdrew
back into the woods. When the GPs were relieved, they had suffered 12
casualties, including two killed (Dank, a,
191-93).
The glider pilots were put on 26 empty trucks
headed for Belgium, and evacuated on 24 September. In the 101st’s
sector, just south of Veghel (see
“The Unknown Hero,” the convoy was ambushed by Col. Freiherr
von der Heydte’s 6th Parachute Regiment. Fortunately for the glider
pilots in the convoy, the GP in charge, Capt. Elgin D. Andross, Group
Glider Officer of the 313th, had previously served in the infantry. At
considerable risk to his own life, Andross organized his troops, who
eventually fought their way out of the ambush, killing over 100 German
paratroopers. Thirteen glider pilots had been casualties, and three
others were captured (Devlin, 274f).
Of the casualties, three were killed. One of these
was combat veteran Dana Mudd, glider
pilot of the 91st squadron (Dana performed the triple-loop of a CG-4A on
the 439th’s Field Day, July 1944). After the war, Father John Whelan,
439th Chaplain, recalled his last conversation with Dana: “When I said
goodbye to Dana Mudd on the mission to Holland, he seemed to know how
close he was standing to eternity. He told me with a blithe spirit,
which was his hallmark, that he did not expect to get by that one. And
he didn’t” (Dank, c).
According to 82nd CG James Gavin, the river-crossing
project was “risky. . . but something had to be done. I could not
conceive of sitting on the southern bank with a regiment of infantry and
the Guards Armored
Division while Urquhart was destroyed eleven miles away.”
Before jump-off on the Waal River-crossing, to Gen.
Gavin’s chagrin, he got word that both Mook and Beek were being
overrun, and realized that he needed to get out to this area and get
some help organized for those towns (see “439th Joins The
Infantry,” in Into The Valley). On the other hand, Gavin knew that 504th PIR CO Col.
Reuben Tucker was a “very competent battle commander,” and left
Tucker in charge of the effort to take the Nijmegen Bridge. General
Gavin, referring later to his division’s fighting in Holland,
described the battle to cross the Waal River as “the most brilliant
and spectacular battle of all” (Gavin, 172-77).
Manning the boats were the engineers of the 307th,
some of whom rowed across the river several times (see story below). CBS
war correspondent Bill Downs reported on the crossing: “A single
isolated battle that ranks with Guam, Tarawa, Omaha Beach. A story that
should be told to the blowing of bugles and the beating of drums for the
men whose bravery made the capture of this crossing over the Waal
possible” (82nd).
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