Then Montgomery made an extraordinary disclosure. “I am just as eager to liberate the Netherlands as you are,” he said, “but we intend to do it in another, even better way.” He paused, thought a moment and then, almost reluctantly, said, “I am planning an airborne operation ahead of my troops.” Bernhard was startled. Instantly a number of questions came to his mind. In what area were the drops planned? When would the operation take place? How was it being developed? Yet he refrained from asking. Montgomery’s manner indicated he would say no more. The operation was obviously still in the planning stage and the Prince’s impression was that only the Field Marshal and a few of his staff officers knew of the plan. Although he was given no more details, Bernhard was now hopeful that the liberation of Holland, despite Montgomery’s earlier talk of lack of supplies, was imminent. He must be patient and wait. The Field Marshal’s reputation was awesome. Bernhard believed in it and in the man himself. The Prince felt a renewal of hope, for “anything Montgomery did, he would do well.”
Eisenhower, acceding to Montgomery’s request, set Sunday, September 10, as the date for a meeting. He was not particularly looking forward to his meeting with Montgomery and the usual temperamental arguments he had come to expect from the Field Marshal. He was, however, interested in learning what progress had been made in one aspect of the Montgomery operation. Although the Supreme Commander must approve all airborne plans, he had given Montgomery tactical use of the First Allied Airborne Army and permission to work out a possible plan involving that force. He knew that Montgomery, at least since the fourth, had been quietly exploring the possibility of an airborne operation to seize a bridgehead across the Rhine.
Ever since the formation of the First Allied Airborne Army under its American commander, Lieutenant General Lewis Hyde Brereton, six weeks earlier, Eisenhower had been searching for both a target and a suitable opportunity to employ the force. To that end he had been pressing Brereton and the various army commanders to develop bold and imaginative airborne plans calling for large-scale mass attacks deep behind the enemy’s lines. Various missions had been proposed and accepted, but all had been canceled. In nearly every case the speeding land armies had already arrived at the objectives planned for the paratroops.
Montgomery’s original proposal had called for units of Brere-ton’s airborne force to grab a crossing west of the town of Wesel, just over the Dutch-German border. However, heavy antiaircraft defenses in that area had forced the Field Marshal to make a change. The site he then chose was farther west in Holland: the Lower Rhine bridge at Arnhem—at this juncture more than seventy-five miles behind the German front lines.
By September 7, Operation Comet, as the plan was called, was in readiness; then bad weather, coupled with Montgomery’s concern about the ever-increasing German opposition his troops were encountering, forced a postponement. What might have succeeded on the sixth or seventh seemed risky by the tenth. Eisenhower too was concerned; for one thing he felt that the launching of an airborne attack at this juncture would mean a delay in opening the port of Antwerp. Yet the Supreme Commander remained fascinated by the possibilities of an airborne attack.
The abortive operations, some of them canceled almost at the last minute, had created a major problem for Eisenhower. Each time a mission reached the jump-off stage, troop-carrier planes, hauling gasoline to the front, had to be grounded and made ready. This loss of precious air-supply tonnage brought cries of protest from Bradley and Patton. At this moment of relentless pursuit, the airlift of gasoline, they declared, was far more vital than airborne missions. Eisenhower, anxious to use the paratroopers and urged by Washington to do so—both General Marshall and General Henry H. Arnold, commander of the U.S. Army air forces, wanted to see what Brereton’s new Allied Airborne Army could accomplish—was not prepared to ground his highly trained airborne divisions. On the contrary, he was insisting that they be used at the earliest opportunity.* In fact, it might be a way to catapult his troops across the Rhine at the very moment when the pursuit was slowing down. But on this morning of September 10, as he flew to Brussels, all other considerations were secondary in his mind to the opening of the vital port of Antwerp.
Not so Montgomery. Anxious and determined, he was waiting at Brussels airport as Eisenhower’s plane touched down. With characteristic preciseness, he had honed and refined his arguments preparatory to the meeting. He had talked with General Miles C. Dempsey of the British Second Army, and Lieutenant General Frederick Browning, commander of the British I Airborne Corps, who was also deputy chief of the First Allied Airborne Army. Browning was waiting in the wings for the outcome of the conference. Dempsey, concerned at the ever-stiffening enemy resistance before him and aware from the intelligence reports that new units were moving in, asked Montgomery to abandon the plan for an airborne attack on the bridge at Arnhem. Instead, he suggested concentrating on seizing the Rhine crossing at Wesel. Even in conjunction with an airborne mission, Dempsey contended, the British Second Army probably was not strong enough to drive due north to Arnhem by itself. It would be better, he believed, to advance in conjunction with the U.S. First Army northeast toward Wesel.
A drive into Holland was, in any case, now imperative. The British War Office had informed Montgomery that V-2’s—the first German rockets—had landed in London on September 8. Their launch sites were believed to be somewhere in western Holland. Whether before or after receiving this information, Montgomery altered his plans. Operation Comet, as originally devised, called for only a division and a half—the British 1st Airborne and the Polish 1st Parachute Brigade; that force was too weak to be effective, he believed. As a result, he canceled Comet. In its place, Montgomery came up with an even more ambitious airborne proposal. As yet, only a few of the Field Marshal’s upper-echelon officers knew about it and, apprehensive of General Bradley’s influence with Eisenhower, they had taken great pains to see that no hint of the plan reached American liaison officers at the British headquarters. Like Eisenhower, Lieutenant General Browning and the headquarters of the First Allied Airborne Army in England were, at this moment, unaware of Montgomery’s new airborne scheme.
Because of his injured knee, Eisenhower was unable to leave his plane, and the conference was held on board. Montgomery, as he had done on August 23, determined who should be present at the meeting. The Supreme Commander had brought his deputy, Air Chief Marshal Sir Arthur Tedder, and an assistant chief of staff, Lieutenant General Sir Humphrey Gale, in charge of administration. Curtly, Montgomery asked that Eisenhower exclude Gale from the conference while insisting that his own administrative and supply chief, Lieutenant General Miles Graham, remain. Another, less acquiescent superior might well have taken issue with Montgomery’s attitude. Eisenhower patiently granted the Field Marshal’s demand. General Gale left.
Almost immediately Montgomery denounced the Supreme Commander’s broad-front policy. Constantly referring to a sheaf of Eisenhower’s communications that had arrived during the previous week, he called attention to the Supreme Commander’s inconsistencies in not clearly defining what was meant by “priority.” He argued that his 21st Army Group was not getting the “priority” in supplies promised by Eisenhower; that Patton’s drive to the Saar was being allowed to proceed at the expense of Montgomery’s forces. Calmly Eisenhower answered that he had never meant to give Montgomery “absolute priority” to the exclusion of everyone else. Eisenhower’s strategy, Montgomery reiterated, was wrong and would have “dire consequences.” So long as these two “jerky and disjointed thrusts were continued,” with supplies split between himself and Patton, “neither could succeed.” It was essential, Montgomery said, that Eisenhower decide between him and Patton. So fierce and unrestrained was Montgomery’s language that Eisenhower suddenly reached out, patted Montgomery’s knee and told him, “Steady, Monty! You can’t speak to me like that. I’m your boss.” Montgomery’s anger vanished. “I’m sorry, Ike,” he said quietly.*
The uncharacteristic but seemingly genuine apo
logy was not the end of the matter. Doggedly, though with less acrimony, Montgomery continued to argue for his “single thrust.” Eisenhower listened intently and with sympathy to the arguments, but his own view remained unchanged. His broad-front advance would continue. He told Montgomery clearly why. As Eisenhower was later to recall,* he said, “What you’re proposing is this—if I give you all of the supplies you want, you could go straight to Berlin—right straight to Berlin? Monty, you’re nuts. You can’t do it. What the hell! If you try a long column like that in a single thrust you’d have to throw off division after division to protect your flanks from attack. Now suppose you did get a bridge across the Rhine. You couldn’t depend for long on that one bridge to supply your drive. Monty, you can’t do it.”
Montgomery, according to Eisenhower, replied, “I’ll supply them all right. Just give me what I need and I’ll reach Berlin and end the war.”
Eisenhower’s rejection was firm. Antwerp, he stressed, must be opened before any major drive into Germany could even be contemplated. Montgomery then played his trump card. The most recent development—the rocket attack on London from sites in the Netherlands—necessitated an immediate advance into Holland. He knew exactly how such a drive should begin. To strike into Germany, Montgomery proposed to use almost the entire First Allied Airborne Army in a stunning mass attack.
His plan was an expanded, grandiose version of Operation Comet. Montgomery now wanted to use three and a half divisions—the U.S. 82nd and 101st, the British 1st Airborne and the Polish 1st Parachute Brigade. The airborne forces were to seize a succession of river crossings in Holland ahead of his troops, with the major objective being the Lower Rhine bridge at Arnhem. Anticipating that the Germans would expect him to take the shortest route and drive northeast for the Rhine and the Ruhr, Montgomery had deliberately chosen a northern “back door” route to the Reich. The surprise airborne attack would open a corridor for the tanks of his British Second Army, which would race across the captured bridges to Arnhem, over the Rhine and beyond. Once all this was accomplished, Montgomery could wheel east, outflank the Siegfried Line, and dash into the Ruhr.
Eisenhower was intrigued and impressed. It was a bold, brilliantly imaginative plan, exactly the kind of mass attack he had been seeking for his long-idle airborne divisions. But now the Supreme Commander was caught between the hammer and the anvil: if he agreed to the attack, the opening of Antwerp would temporarily have to be delayed and supplies diverted from Patton. Yet, Montgomery’s proposal could revitalize the dying advance and perhaps propel the pursuit across the Rhine and into the Ruhr. Eisenhower, fascinated by the audaciousness of the plan, not only gave his approval,* but insisted that the operation take place at the earliest possible moment.
Yet the Supreme Commander stressed that the attack was a “limited one.” And he emphasized to Montgomery that he considered the combined airborne-ground operation “merely an extension of the northern advance to the Rhine and the Ruhr.” As Eisenhower remembered the conversation, he said to Montgomery, “I’ll tell you what I’ll do, Monty. I’ll give you whatever you ask to get you over the Rhine because I want a bridgehead … but let’s get over the Rhine first before we discuss anything else.” Montgomery continued to argue, but Eisenhower would not budge. Frustrated, the Field Marshal had to accept what he called a “half measure,” and on this note the conference ended.
After Eisenhower’s departure, Montgomery outlined the proposed operation on a map for Lieutenant General Browning. The elegant Browning, one of Britain’s pioneer airborne advocates, saw that the paratroopers and glider-borne forces were being called upon to secure a series of crossings—five of them major bridges including the wide rivers of the Maas, the Waal and the Lower Rhine—over a stretch approximately sixty-four miles long between the Dutch border and Arnhem. Additionally, they were charged with holding open the corridor—in most places a single highway running north—over which British armor would drive. All of the bridges had to be seized intact if the armored dash was to succeed. The dangers were obvious, but this was precisely the kind of surprise assault for which the airborne forces had been trained. Still, Browning was uneasy. Pointing to the most northern bridge over the Lower Rhine at Arnhem, he asked, “How long will it take the armor to reach us?” Montgomery replied briskly, “Two days.” Still intent on the map, Browning said, “We can hold it for four.” Then he added, “But sir, I think we might be going a bridge too far.”
THE PRIZE
The most northern of all crossings to be seized by Anglo-American and Polish airborne forces was the Arnhem bridge over the Lower Rhine. Assigned to Major General Urquhart’s British 1st Airborne Division and Major General Sosabowski’s Polish 1st Parachute Brigade, it was the key to Montgomery’s plan to end the war in 1944. Photo shows bridge with long boulevards stretching back to the concert hall complex, Musis Sacrum (left foreground).
The Bridges: Urquhart’s men were also to capture the Arnhem railroad crossing and the pontoon bridge. The Germans blew up the former, and the middle section of the latter was found missing. Mystery surrounds RAF photo of pontoon bridge taken eleven days before attack: were Germans replacing or removing the center? No one could tell, but attack was ordered just the same.
Major General Gavins 82nd Airberne swiftly captured the 1500-foot-long Grave bridge over the Maas River and, among others, the Heumen Canal bridge . But due to confusion in orders and quick German reaction, they failed to capture on the first day Nijmegen bridge, over the Waal, eleven miles from Arnhem. Crossing fell in combined Anglo-American attack on the 19th when the 82nd made a daring river assault which has been called a “second Omaha Beach landing.”
South of 82nd’s positions, Major General Taylor’s 101st Airborne captured all bridges but one: the crossing at Son was blown up, throwing Market-Garden’s schedule off by 36 hours.
Eisenhower and Montgomery were bitterly opposed on war strategy. Montgomery thought Supreme Commander indecisive with “no experience for the job”; Eisenhower considered Britain’s popular Field Marshal “an egocentric who never made a mistake in his life.”
New chief of First Allied Airborne Army, Lieutenant General Brereton, had never commanded paratroops before. He was in disagreement with British deputy, Lieutenant General Browning. Hours before attack planning began, Brereton received a letter of resignation from Browning.
Browning, Britain’s foremost airborne authority, withdrew his resignation when named to command Market-Garden. He had never had operational control of an airborne corps before.
(Left to right) Major General Adair, commander of Guards Armored Division; Field Marshal Montgomery; Lieutenant General Horrocks, whose XXX Corps tanks and infantry would make drive; and Major General Roberts, whose Eleventh Armored captured Antwerp but was halted to “refuel, refit and rest,” thus allowing bulk of German Fifteenth Army to reach Holland and participate in Market-Garden offensive.
Major General Taylor, commander of the U.S. 101st Airborne, meets with Lieutenant General Ritchie, of 12th British Corps; and General Dempsey, chief of Second British Army, confers with Major General Gavin, U. S. 82nd Airborne Commander.
Dutch intelligence man Henri Knap with Arnhem underground chief Pieter Kruyff
Warned London of Panzer divisions in Arnhem area on September 14th. ·
Major Brian Urquhart, Browning’s intelligence chief also spotted German tanks on RAF reconnaissance photos. Warnings went unheeded. ·
Major General “Roy” Urquhart, commander of British 1st Airborne, though veteran combat leader, was commanding paratroop division for first time. He was not only unaware of German armor but was forced to land his units from six to eight miles from crucial Arnhem bridge. Hardly had the attack begun than communications failed, and General Urquhart, cut off from headquarters behind German lines, was forced to hide out for 39 vital hours.
With Urquhart “missing” Brigadier Hicks was forced to lead the division. • When 4th Parachute Brigade landed, September 18th, Brigadier Hack
ett
Because of seniority, challenged Hicks over division command. · Urquhart’s Chief of Staff, Colonel Mackenzie
Calmed down arguing brigadiers. • Meanwhile, unaware of true situation in Arnhem, General Sosabowski
And his Polish 1st Parachute Brigade were delayed more than two days because of bad weather. · Brigadier Lathbury
commander of 1st Parachute Brigade, should have assumed division leadership, but was wounded and, like General Urquhart, considered “missing.”
Holding northern approaches to Arnhem bridge and outnumbered by at least 10 to 1, Colonel John Frost, with his men, in one of history’s greatest feats of arms, held off elements of two German Panzer divisions. · Another bridge hero, Captain Eric Mackay
Though almost out of ammunition, actually called on Germans to surrender. Wounded and captured, Mackay
Refused to give up; he escaped and floated downstream to Nijmegen with companions.
Irish Guards tank group led the armored breakout from Dutch-Belgian border. Shown here are its commander, Colonel J. O. E. Vandeleur and his cousin Giles, a battalion commander
The two men as they appeared in 1944. The Germans succeeded in halting Vandeleur’s tanks barely six miles short of Frost’s men on Arnhem bridge.
RAF Flight Lieutenant Love ground-to-air communications officer during tank drive, wondered why he had volunteered for job. · Lord Wrottesley who made first contact with Urquhart’s isolated troops. · Lieutenant Hay whose “Phantom” radio unit finally contacted ground forces for Urquhart. •