On September 20, 1944 the war in the West depended on whether American Paratroopers could seize the Nijmegen Bridge before the Germans could destroy it.   The fate of Operation Market Garden and 10,000 beleaguered British paratroopers trapped in Arnhem rested on the capture of the bridge.  A daring daylight crossing of the Waal river was planned to capture the bridge.   

Since our phone call of last week, I have been devling into my past – searching for – who knows what . . . . But you called me – and asked questions that no one has ever asked before – how I felt? What was it like? Before? After? During? And I gave you pretty trite answers. But our discussion has reopened all kinds of pores in my mind – I lie awake at night living or trying to relive – the Waal Crossing . . . .

Wednesday, September 20, 1944: Before the Crossing.

C Company, 307^th Engineers had moved closer to the river -- I don’t remember if it was the night before or early in the morning. (I think the latter). Captain "Spike" Harris called me -- and together we walked up the power station on the Waal River with other C Company officers and platoon sergeants. I had no idea why we were going. I don’t think Spike knew much more. We met with Colonel Tucker (CO 504^th Parachute Infantry Regiment), Major Cook and other field grade officers. I was sure something BIG was going on because ordinarily we wouldn’t have been party to all those upper ranks of officers. We walked upstairs in the empty power station -- as I recall very clean and modern. Got to the second floor or so and looked out over the river -- it was broad --couldn’t see much current but couldn’t tell from where we were. About then I began to understand what was up -- we were going to cross it - and the Engineers in the U.S. Army were the customary boatmen. Ergo, we were there to plot a night crossing. "Where were the boats?," we asked -- "Coming," they replied. "What kind of boats?" -- "Press out, British canvas assault boats." -- "How soon?" -- "Afternoon."

And then I began to understand that they were really serious about a daylight crossing. Wow! "Who’s going to protect us? That is one wide river" -- "We’ll lay in British armor to hit the other side and to lay down a smoke barrage so no one will be able to see."

It began to dawn on me that this was one rash daredevil idea -- and we engineers were going to be a big part of it.

I guess Spike and the rest of us went back to the company and we moved up in enfilade to the east of the power station on the down side of the levee or embankment. Spike said I was to take a squad of my platoon over first. Do what I could about miners and support infantry etc. etc. etc. I am not sure why he chose me -- but we were not accustomed to question such decisions.

Wednesday, September 20, 1944, 3 p.m.: The Crossing

I recall chaos around 3 p.m. The 3^rd Battalion of the 504, some 500 men, were charging about. Officers yelling and what not -- plus our C Company of the 307 – about 100 or so men. I can’t remember being anything but numb -- not quite sure what was happening or what was about to happen.

At some point British tanks lined up behind the levee embankment with cannons heading up -- to send smoke -- plus shells across the Waal River. Finally some British Army "lorries" [trucks] arrived with the assault boats packed on -- I think there were two trucks, maybe more.

We sprang into action. After all, we were the so-called "river crossing experts." We hauled the boats down one by one. Did we figure out to press them out, or did some Brit show us? Who knows? Anyhow, we got one opened up, and I knew this was mine -- was there a command to move out? I can’t remember. I just knew we were supposed to crack this boat down the embankment across the sandy shore and across the fucking river. How did I feel? I was numb and frozen. If I really considered going across in daylight after all that creeping around behind the power station -- knowing what was probably waiting for us -- I suppose I would have crapped out. But I figured that if Spike and the big shots thought we could make it, why not?

So I rallied my squad; grabbed the boat and headed down the embankment about 15 feet. I think the canvas boat was heavier than it looked - then across sandy mud to the river’s edge and into the water. We pushed the boat out to where we could all step in. All hell was breaking loose. Tanks firing, smoke appearing and lots of small arms fire. I had lots of experience with canoes and row boats, plus a period on a freshman crew at Harvard. So I took the stern and shouted, "stroke!" - "stroke!" - "stroke!" as we wallowed across the Waal. I think we were eleven engineers and all had paddles -- five to a side and across we went. There was a whistling of bullets all around us but for some reason, no one was injured. We hit the other bank and took off like cowboys and Indians up the bank. Three of our guys were left to ferry the boat back to pick up another load. (I think they had the toughest job of all!).

Wednesday, September 20, 1944, 3:30 p.m.: After the Crossing

When we hit the shore we were elated! Intoxicated! We had somehow made it across that "broadside" of fire without a scratch. We scampered out of the boats and up the beach to higher ground and took off gradually east where we knew the highway bridge to be.

We didn’t find any mines -- we just ran and ran. We were eight young men, 19 to 23 years old, who had just won a new life and we dashed like a cavalry squadron. Nothing could stop us now! I think there were eight of us - me and seven of the squad -- we didn’t wait for the 504. Forward we ran. There was a pillbox in front of us -- who knows if there were any defenders. We tossed in grenades and shot ahead -- there were two houses. I think uninhabited but we tossed grenades there too and romped on. At some point I bethought me of duties as an officer -- wrote a brief note to Capt. Spike and sent it back by one of my engineers.

We spread out -- from here on I get hazy. I was down to six and we were hooping and hollering all over the place. We sounded to ourselves as if were single handedly to save the Bridge.

Like a bad officer, I got ahead of the group. I remember running through a large pasture; was surprised by the whistling of bullets going by; surprised by seeing dead cows up-ended; wondering of someone was really truing to shoot at me -- me -- the victorious crosser of the Waal. Finally, after and hour and a half, my euphoria began to wane. I found a little 6x6 house -- probably a farm implement storage. Took off my helmet and looked around. It must have been 5 or 5:30 by this time. Bullets still whistling around - but presumably not at me (I hoped) - I wondered what in the world I should be doing? No men, no mission, not really an infantry man conqueror. Two of my men arrived -- we took council -- wondered whether to proceed or get back to the beachhead.

At this point we discovered Major Cook and elements of the 3^rd Battalion coming towards us in a ditch. I reported in to Major Cook, told him that everything was OK this far and since I had only two of my squad left I probably should see what I could do at the landing. And we three crawled over the top of some 20 504 men and gradually returned to the beach which was empty but for some battered boats and six dead troopers - not a very brilliant ending for our crossing.

Wednesday, September 20, 1944: Evening

Two of my squad and I remained at the beachhead overnight and made our way across the Waal when a boat came from the other side. My other three joined the 3^rd Battalion, 504 moving forward. Sgt. Kero was killed firing a bazooka at a German Panzer (He was awarded a posthumous DSC). The other two returned safely.

I believe the company lost 4 of 5 KIA and about 12 WIA ( I have just found my "diary") of the Holland campaign and I notice that I hardly mention the river-crossing - I guess I was still stunned!).