Read Online Postcards From No Man's Land by Aidan Chambers - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Aidan Chambers
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sheets. I thought the sky as well as our house was falling on our heads. We were all feeling very miserable. Jacob began to shiver. During a lull in the fighting Father rescued from the wreckage upstairs a pair of his trousers and a pullover for Jacob to wear, for what was left of his army clothes was useless. ‘Better not let Jerry catch you like that,’ said Hugh, ‘or he’ll take you for a spy and shoot you.’ He meant it as a joke, I’m sure, but it sent a tremor through me. I could see it also made Jacob think for a moment, but then he picked up his plum-red paratrooper’s beret and put it on, took his paratrooper’s scarf and tied it round my neck, and said, ‘That’ll fox him!’ It was not a good joke, but we laughed anyway as we huddled against each other for warmth.
The next day an officer brought orders for the men to leave. Only then we learned that those at the bridge in Arnhem had had to give up on Thursday. Not for forty-eight hours, as planned, but for four days they held out against tanks and guns and mortars, and greatly outnumbered by the Germans. Only when they ran out of ammunition, and werealmost all captured or injured or dead, had the few remaining given in. Now, eight days after the first paratroopers landed, the British soldiers trapped in Oosterbeek were surrounded by ever stronger German forces. It could not be long, a day or two at most, before they would be overrun. The only way to save them was by withdrawing across the river, from where they could reach the main army. But to have any chance of success, this would have to be done during that Monday night, with a barrage of heavy gunfire from the main army south of the river to cover their escape, confuse the Germans and make them keep their heads down.
Orders were given that the barrage was to begin at 8:50 p.m. that evening and the withdrawal at ten o’clock. Men defending the northern perimeter, which was furthest from the river, were to withdraw first, and so on, like an ebbing tide, down to those at the southern end on the river itself. As we were near the river end of the village, the soldiers in our house would be among the last to leave.
In preparation, the men were ordered to blacken their faces, to muffle the sound of their boots by wrapping them in strips torn from blankets, and to make sure their weapons did not rattle when they carried them. All other equipment was to be destroyed.
Of the wounded men, any who could walk were to leave. But those who could not or were too ill were to remain where they were, along with the medical officers and orderlies. They were to give themselves up and become prisoners of war when the Germans took over the village again.
In all the days of the battle till these orders came, everyone had tried to be cheerful and optimistic. Now a strange mood overcame us. That Monday the fighting was fierce, the worst of any so far. What remained of our house was often hit, even was burning in the upstairs rooms at one point, but Father and some of the lightly wounded men managed to put the flames out while the uninjured menwent on firing at the enemy, who had occupied houses on the other side of the street. Twice German soldiers almost reached us, but were fought off, hand-to-hand sometimes, though not without cost. Ron, who had been with us throughout that terrible week and so often helped us, died in this defence of our home. His companion, Norman, brought the news to us in the cellar. Mother and I wept for this brave and kindly man who had done so much to try and make our lives bearable during the battle, never complaining, and who we knew left behind in his own country a young wife and baby daughter, whose photos he had often shown us. Norman sat silently with us, dazed by the loss of his friend, but before he could recover he was called for from above and had to run back up to face the enemy again.
I think this was the moment when I knew for sure that, after all, we had not been liberated but
The next day an officer brought orders for the men to leave. Only then we learned that those at the bridge in Arnhem had had to give up on Thursday. Not for forty-eight hours, as planned, but for four days they held out against tanks and guns and mortars, and greatly outnumbered by the Germans. Only when they ran out of ammunition, and werealmost all captured or injured or dead, had the few remaining given in. Now, eight days after the first paratroopers landed, the British soldiers trapped in Oosterbeek were surrounded by ever stronger German forces. It could not be long, a day or two at most, before they would be overrun. The only way to save them was by withdrawing across the river, from where they could reach the main army. But to have any chance of success, this would have to be done during that Monday night, with a barrage of heavy gunfire from the main army south of the river to cover their escape, confuse the Germans and make them keep their heads down.
Orders were given that the barrage was to begin at 8:50 p.m. that evening and the withdrawal at ten o’clock. Men defending the northern perimeter, which was furthest from the river, were to withdraw first, and so on, like an ebbing tide, down to those at the southern end on the river itself. As we were near the river end of the village, the soldiers in our house would be among the last to leave.
In preparation, the men were ordered to blacken their faces, to muffle the sound of their boots by wrapping them in strips torn from blankets, and to make sure their weapons did not rattle when they carried them. All other equipment was to be destroyed.
Of the wounded men, any who could walk were to leave. But those who could not or were too ill were to remain where they were, along with the medical officers and orderlies. They were to give themselves up and become prisoners of war when the Germans took over the village again.
In all the days of the battle till these orders came, everyone had tried to be cheerful and optimistic. Now a strange mood overcame us. That Monday the fighting was fierce, the worst of any so far. What remained of our house was often hit, even was burning in the upstairs rooms at one point, but Father and some of the lightly wounded men managed to put the flames out while the uninjured menwent on firing at the enemy, who had occupied houses on the other side of the street. Twice German soldiers almost reached us, but were fought off, hand-to-hand sometimes, though not without cost. Ron, who had been with us throughout that terrible week and so often helped us, died in this defence of our home. His companion, Norman, brought the news to us in the cellar. Mother and I wept for this brave and kindly man who had done so much to try and make our lives bearable during the battle, never complaining, and who we knew left behind in his own country a young wife and baby daughter, whose photos he had often shown us. Norman sat silently with us, dazed by the loss of his friend, but before he could recover he was called for from above and had to run back up to face the enemy again.
I think this was the moment when I knew for sure that, after all, we had not been liberated but
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