Arnhem

That evening, the sounds of battle outside were noisier than ever and, as he took evening service, he could hardly hear his own voice. But he managed to make himself heard when he began to sing ‘Abide with Me’, and the wounded men joined in as best they could, or just lay listening. ‘God of the helpless, O abide with me’ – never, he concluded, were the words sung in a more appropriate setting. The text for his sermon was ‘Take no thought for the morrow,’ from St Matthew’s Gospel, and he believed it brought much-needed comfort. As he bade the men goodnight and left, a man beside the door began to sing, in a thin, shaking voice. ‘Just a song at twilight, when the lights are low/ And the flick’ring shadows softly come and go …’ An Irish ballad steeped in sentiment, ‘Love’s Old Sweet Song’ had brought an emotion-filled end to many a night round the piano at home or down at the pub. ‘Tho’ the heart be weary, sad the day and long/ Still to us at twilight comes Love’s old sweet song.’ Pare choked. ‘It was so full of pathos and the memory of peace at home that I could barely keep back my tears.’

Back at the St Elizabeth, many of those recovering from their injuries saw clearly what was happening and were not prepared to let tomorrow take care of itself. One of these was Brigadier Gerald Lathbury, commander of 1 Para. He had been in the vanguard of Market Garden and fought hard to reach the bridge but had been turned back by fierce German resistance. Caught in mortar and sniper fire, he was wounded in the back on the second day of the operation. He was just a few hundred yards from the hospital at the time and carried there for treatment. His wound was not a major one, but there was no way back to his lines. From then on he was a reluctant spectator of the battle for Arnhem and Oosterbeek, trying to make sense of the noisy mayhem outside and what he could glean from talking to other casualties and the Dutch orderlies. He took the sensible precaution of concealing his high rank from the German nuns who cooked and cleaned, unsure of their loyalties. When SS officers toured the wards, he hastily took to his bed to stay out of their way. The last thing he wanted was to be deemed well enough to be shipped off to Germany as a prisoner of war. His debriefing of men still being brought in from the front line told him that things were going badly outside but that British forces were thought to be on the other side of the river, almost within reach. But it was no good waiting for them to get to him. ‘I made my arrangements to go,’ he noted. ‘The hospital was no place to stay in.’⁵

It was one o’clock in the morning and drizzling with rain when he crept out into the unguarded hospital grounds on to the road and began walking as inconspicuously as possible in a north-westerly direction. ‘There were fires everywhere and it was dangerously light in consequence. Crossed the railway carefully, crawling under about seven trains. Felt very naked walking through the edge of town as fires lighted up everything.’ Then he was into the woods, grateful to be in the dark at last but having to plot his course with a compass through dense undergrowth. ‘Fences a nuisance. Got tired very soon.’ As it began to get light he could see around him scores of re-supply containers and parachutes, flown in at huge personal risk and loss of life by RAF pilots but to no useful purpose. He at least could make use of them and he picked up a tin of soup to have later. ‘It was pouring with rain. Not sure where I was.’ He rested up in the loft of a farm, too cold and wet to sleep.

In the morning the weather was fine and he pushed on. He passed houses and gardens and saw several dead Germans but no British. He also spotted, he noted rather proudly, as if writing up nature notes, ‘two green woodpeckers, a red squirrel and a hedgehog’. Then, perhaps letting his guard slip in the glorious sunshine, he ‘got rather careless and walked on top of a German ammunition dump and had a narrow shave with the sentry. Had to make a big detour. Getting very tired. Very few houses now. Chose one and decided to risk it. Struck very lucky. House full of evacuees, many speaking English. Was given food and wine. Found an escaped British soldier who had been brought out of Arnhem by the evacuees, wearing civilian clothes. What luck so far.’