Armageddon - Max Hastings [49]
SERGEANT ERWIN HECK of the Arnhem SS NCO school was impressed by the disciplined bearing of British prisoners, who marched into the town singing “It’s a long way to Tipperary.” But the Germans were even more gratified by their own achievement. “We felt proud of ourselves,” said Heck, “especially when we had achieved victory with so few resources.” It has often been suggested that the Arnhem battle was distinguished by chivalry between the German and Allied combatants. It is true that there were local truces in the midst of the battle, to allow both sides to remove their wounded to a German hospital. Some British prisoners were treated with courtesy and consideration by the SS, as gallant warriors. But neither side gave much quarter during the battle, and there were ugly incidents when it was over. A British medical officer was shot in cold blood by a drunken German war correspondent. Captain John Killick said: “It was pretty dismaying that while the Germans were giving us food, water and cigarettes, on the other side of the square they were shooting out of hand Dutchmen whom they believed had helped us.” The entire civilian population of Arnhem was summarily expelled from the town. On 24 September in heavy rain, almost 100,000 dispossessed people trudged like a defeated army from their homes, clutching such belongings as they could carry, the silence of the Dutch broken only by the sobs of children and the sounds of battle a few miles distant. In the months that followed, the sufferings of local people at the hands of the Germans were very great. Lieutenant Jack Reynolds was awarded a Military Cross for his own contribution at Arnhem, yet it was half a century before he could bring himself to go back to the town. “I felt so ashamed. When we left the Dutch people, they were far worse off than before we came.”
Considerable bitterness towards Horrocks’s XXX Corps persisted among the British paratroopers when the battle was over. One of 1st Airborne’s survivors, arrived at last at Nijmegen, shouted at the 5th Wiltshires, who had come north up the road with 43rd Division: “It took you a bloody long time to get here!” A Wiltshireman shouted back with equal asperity: “Yeah, and quite a few poor bastards didn’t get this far!” When Corporal Denis Thomas arrived as a prisoner at Stalag XIB in October, a paratrooper cried to the rest of the hut: “Here’s another bloody tank man who’s come to relieve us!”
Gavin of the U.S. 82nd urged that the U.S. Army should review its policy of ruthlessly relieving formation commanders who failed in a single battle. He argued that it might be wiser to allow general officers to gain experience, and to enjoy at least a second chance. He suggested that the U.S. might learn something from the British practice of distributing decorations after a disaster, to relieve the burden of guilt on those responsible. Lieutenant-General “Boy” Browning “lost three-quarters of his command and a battle. He returned home a hero and was personally decorated by the King. There is no doubt that in our system he would have been summarily relieved and sent home in disgrace.” Decorations were awarded to other British senior officers, whom some of their subordinates would have preferred to see dismissed. Air Chief Marshal Sir Arthur Harris once remarked caustically upon the British habit of assuaging the pain of defeats with a deluge of “gongs.” At Arnhem, the British fielded too many gentlemen and not enough players. After its failure, senior American officers were even less willing than before to accept lessons in the conduct of war from their allies.
A bitter sense of anticlimax followed Market Garden. The British would be leading no triumphant advance into Germany through Holland and the Ruhr. Second Army Intelligence recorded ruefully on 29 September: “The enemy has gained a respite, of which he has taken fuller advantage than