Able Company, 504 PIR 
0530 18 September, 1944 
Near Neerbosch, on the Maas-Waal Canal 

Holland is flat, no two ways about it. On Sicily it was the heat. In Italy, it was the mud. But here in Holland, it is the complete lack of cover. Pool-table flat, pancake flat, you get the picture. Scouting the position before we jumped off, Murph (1st Lt. Murphy, 1st Platoon leader) and I could only spot one low rise to provide any defilade on our approach march. 

The plan was simple — stupid simple — I guess. 3rd Platoon and our MG team, under 2LT Smith would take up positions on top of the “hill” to our left, acting as base of fire. 2LT Cherry, with 2nd Platoon, would be our backup, in the very likely event that the whole plan “went south.” And my buddy Murph drew the short straw, as usual. He would take 1st Platoon straight down the road toward Bridge 10. 

A little more about Murph, and how he got selected for his part in this little “outing.” Murph and I are both members of an ever-shrinking club of Sicily veterans in the 504th PIR. We were both squad leaders back then, me in Charlie Company, and Murph in Baker. Between the Germans, the Italians, and the US Navy, the Five-oh-Four was shot to hell on Sicily, lots of promotion potential if you get my drift. Long story short, I ended up in command of Able Company for the drop into Holland, and Murph got 1st Platoon. Murphy was my right-hand man, and always drew the toughest jobs. If roles were reversed, I’m sure he would do the same for me. 

Murph wasn’t going to be completely exposed on his approach to Bridge 10. Battalion had given us the luxury of two 60mm mortar sections to support our assault. My fire plan was to have one section fire off its ammo, then replenish while the other section fired. Then repeat until the job was done. That was the theory, anyway. 

Meanwhile on the north bank of the canal… 

Leutnant Koch dropped his half-smoked cigarette over the bridge parapet into the Maas-Waal Canal, steely grey in the dim dawn light. Had he seen movement far off over the plain south of the River? He turned to look over his shoulder at his men finishing hastily improved defensive positions on the north bank. After standing by the bridge, night after boring night, for what seemed an eternity… last night the call had finally come through from HQ:“The damned Yankees are coming! Be alert for paratroopers and don’t let them take that bridge.”. 

“Schmidt!” he called to the lookout at the south end of the bridge, “Do you see anything?”. Any reply was lost in the “whizz – BANG” of smoke bombs landing on the road 200m south of the bridge. “Man your positions!” he yelled and looked over to make sure the heavy machine gun and flak gun teams were alerted, “Here the bastards come, give them hell gentlemen.” 

We jumped off at 0530, and the start was smooth for a change. Our mortar men dropped a nice smoke pattern for Murph’s platoon, and they took off up the road with no enemy fire. 2nd and 3rd Platoons got into their reserve and base-of-fire positions as planned. 

Things started to unravel a bit as the next mortar section’s smoke pattern drifted off target. 1st Platoon must have felt exposed, because instead of heading straight for Bridge 10 as planned, they veered over to the left side of the road. “Murph, keep ’em moving!” But my shout was lost against the clatter of small-arms fire. From my perch in a barn up on the small rise, I noticed a draw about a hundred yards to the left of the bridge. It looked like it could provide defilade from German fire to the east. Change of plan. I motioned my radio man over, “Able White Six, Able Six! Cherry, first platoon is stalled. Take second across at the draw just to your right. Third will provide suppressing fire. Out!” 

Cherry’s 2nd Platoon started moving out, while both 1st and 3rd put some heavy suppressing fire on the German right flank. Where were our mortars? Cherry could really use some 60mm assistance right about now. German fire continued pounding 2nd Platoon, and they went to ground. After what seemed like hours, Cherry’s men did a low crawl and finally reached the south bank of the river, with supporting fire coming from 3rd Platoon and some 60mm HE. I took a quick glance at my watch, 0544. 

Meanwhile, back in the German lines… 

“Schweinepriester, there are a lot of those bastards,” Schmidt muttered as he and Koch grabbed their coal scuttle helmets and jumped behind their sandbags. Koch’s 2nd Platoon was only at half- strength and had been assigned the to defend the right side of the bridge. Favoring a slight rise on the otherwise flat Dutch plain for what limited cover it offered, the Americans flooded over the small rise directly in front of Koch’s position as machine gun and 38 flak emplacements on the left opened up on the advancing paratroopers, doing little apparent damage. The Americans barely seemed to slow. 

“Hold your fire,” Koch ordered his men, thinking to maintain concealment and some element of surprise for as long as possible. That did not amount to very long at all, as the Americans quickly advanced to close range while a machine gun of their own opened fire from the building on the small ridge. All around Koch came the sharp “crack-crack” of rifle fire, as his troops tried, unsuccessfully, to keep the invaders back. Heavy fire had the platoon diving for cover and disorganized, as several American squads rushed the south bank of the canal and into its swirling depths to effect a crossing. Koch swore and shouted to the men around him, “Come on you rabble, get up and fight or we will be overrun by Yankee bastards!” He aimed and fired at the men floundering across the canal. 

His encouragement worked, but perhaps too well. A team jumped over the sandbags and down the bank of the canal to assault the invaders as they attempted to form a beachhead on the north bank. 

“Come back here you idiots!” Koch screamed in dismay, but to no avail. Lt Koch could see nothing else for it but to lead his remaining men down the bank to join the melee in support of the runaway team. Driven back, they regrouped again — only to face a new assault from desperately charging Yanks sprinting up the bank and over their sandbags. A vicious melee ensued. The yanks were gradually driven back and finally began to retreat back across the canal. 

At the same time, Lt Steiner and 1st Platoon were desperately defending in a melee of their own on the other side of the bridge. Koch turned to observe Steiner’s men bravely send the Yanks packing back into the water. “We are hold…” he started to yell, but got no further. A stray bullet from one of the last assaulters caught him below the ear, under his helmet, and he died instantly with a final look of defiance on his lips. 

The next thing I remember, I was on my back, ears ringing like a siren, and SGT Robbins, my radio operator, shaking me by the shoulders. His eyes were as big as pie plates, his mouth was moving, but I couldn’t hear a word he was saying. I pulled myself up to the ledge of the barn window and surveyed the scene. Dust and tracers filled the air as far as I could see from right to left. What looked like a squad of Krauts was spilling out of their foxholes to the left of the bridge, heading down the bank of the canal toward what I assumed was Cherry’s 2nd Platoon crossing the canal. I became a little bemused at the sight of the battle unfolding silently before me, what with the only sound the whining in my ears. Robbins must have wondered about the slight grin that came across my face. 

504th troopers came spilling back south of the canal to the west of the bridge. Then I looked over to the right, and more troopers were falling back on the other side of the bridge. Dammit! We were losing the battle, and I was out of control of the company. Slowly, I emerged from the fog I was in, and got Robbins to get on the horn to the platoons. Cherry had spotted some vacant enemy positions over to our left. “Cherry, get second platoon across in force, just establish yourselves across the river. We’ll throw the Krauts out when we’ve got a foothold on the north bank.” I got Smith and 3rd Platoon to provide supporting fire for Cherry. 

Disturbing news from 1st Platoon: Murphy was down, a sniper! His men were mulling about when a them had suddenly had enough: they charged across the bridge and mixed it up with some Krauts just east of the bridge. Unfortunately, their Rube Goldberg assault failed. They came stumbling back up the bank south of the canal and set up a position on the road by the bridge. 

A good portion of the German troops had moved west to deal with Cherry, so by now their numbers seemed to be thinning out right at the bridge. Smith and a good part of 3rd Platoon sprinted to the right and crossed the bridge, taking some positions the Krauts had vacated along the road. At this point, the hotheads from 1st Platoon rallied up and headed straight across the canal to finish what they had started earlier. This time, they tossed the Germans out, and a few of them streamed back toward a farmhouse on a small rise northeast of the bridge. At last, we were finally established on the north bank of the canal. But the Germans were still able to put fire on both the road and the bridge. The crossing was not secure. The time was 0556. Battalion needed us to clean up this position by 0615. We were running out of time. 

But time wasn’t a German that day… 

A promising first half hour for the defenders, but with Koch gone the fight went out of 2nd Platoon, and they quickly gave way on the right under the next US assault. 

“Able Blue Six, Able Six! Smith! Take third platoon and assault those Krauts just west of the road! Able Six out! Able White Six, Able Six! Cherry, get second in gear and attack those foxholes on the far left! Out!” Our MG and parts of each platoon put down suppressing fire on the Germans, but would it be enough? 

I looked out and saw 2nd and 3rd Platoons responding as they had been trained, but. German fire was heavy, and their attack seemed to falter. It was out of my control now; we were committed on the left. 

“Able Red Six, Able Six! McVeigh, get first moving and flank the farmhouse to your right. Able Six out!” Just like on our left, gun flashes and tracers lit up the farmhouse. 1st Platoon moved up on either side of the house, but then went to ground. 

I was ready to recall 2nd and 3rd Platoons to regroup at the canal, when I saw Kraut troops streaming away from their positions; 3rd Platoon firing after them as they ran. Another bunch of Germans was running away from 2nd Platoon. I glanced over to the far right, and Germans with hands raised were coming out of the farmhouse that 1st Platoon had surrounded. 

In the German ranks… 

On the left Steiner and his men were unable to withstand the next assault across the bridge and retreated in disarray, stumbling into the nearby farm house. Having seen the loss of his comrade and friend Lt. Koch, Lt. Steiner attempted to rally the troops for a last stand, but the invaders proved too strong, taking the bridge and driving away the German defenders — all within thirty minutes of commencing their attack. The Germans had no chance to blow the bridge. 

A wave of relief swept over me; the Grenadier Guards would be able to cross here with “dry feet” after all. 

And then my thoughts went to Murph… 

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