Arnhem

Luck, however, seemed to have deserted Anje van Maanen. Back at the Tafelberg, she and the other Dutch civilians had spent a difficult and anxious last night. They had been informed by their German captors that they would have to leave the next morning. ‘But we don’t know where to go as our house is still in British hands.’ When she woke, ‘I am afraid what this day will bring. A lot of new misery I am sure.’ Outside, there was no let-up in the battle, with the big guns of the Second Army a dozen miles away still belatedly joining in the artillery exchanges with the Germans. ‘The noise is terrible. It has not been as bad as this before. We can’t speak because of it. The Germans take away their patients and the British start to move out theirs too.’ The wounded men, immobile as they were, confined to what passed for beds, seem not to have been told what was happening, perhaps to stop them panicking. They knew something was up by all the disturbance and activity downstairs, and during a lull in the shelling one optimistic Cockney ventured to Reg Curtis that ‘Jerry’s packed up and buggered off.’ But then orderlies came to carry them out, and Curtis was aware that these medics were very quiet and looked distressed. ‘You’re going to the hospital in Arnhem,’ he was told.

As he was carried out of the makeshift field hospital in the Tafelberg that had sheltered him for six days, he saw the bodies of Airborne and enemy lying where they had fallen. ‘Jeeps and small vans were improvised as makeshift ambulances, anything with wheels that could get us away from this hell hole. Three of us stretcher cases were loaded onto a small open lorry. It was a rough ride along the shell-holed and litter-strewn roads and those of us with shattered bones cried out in pain until we came to a standstill at the St Elizabeth Hospital.’ Other wounded had to walk that same route, a tough 2-mile slog for men with injuries, some carrying others on stretchers. One of them considered they must have looked a pitiful sight. ‘We were battered, like the buildings around us. We were scruffy and dirty. Our uniforms were torn. We couldn’t march with our heads high as we had done when we arrived here as liberators. But most of us still wore our red berets and we still felt proud of them. We had proved to the enemy that we weren’t to be trifled with.’

The Dutch were about to be sent on their way too, Anje recalled, thrust out into the middle of what was still a battlefield. ‘We are told we must leave, and a message is sent to the German headquarters to stop the firing, but it doesn’t. Outside, just 20 yards from the Tafelberg is a German artillery officer with orders to blow the whole place up. He tells us the shelling is not going to stop and we must take a route through the garden and down the back streets. I don’t know how we’re expected to drive a car through a garden with seriously wounded people. But there is no other solution. A shell wrecks the kitchen. Fortunately, no one is hurt. Finn appears from under the table, grey with dust and wagging his tail. That dog is amazing!’ The Dutch sat in the cellar while negotiations went on for their safe passage. ‘There are more loud crashes and everything shakes and trembles. A man we know comes rushing down and tells us his sister, Corry, a nurse, has been killed. Oh no, it can’t be possible. Just a little while ago she was sitting with me in the kitchen. When the latest attack came, five people were hit, three of them dead and two wounded. Corry immediately went to the wounded boys. And when the second attack came a shell splinter hit her. It is too awful for words. I hate God. We sit in the cellar feeling utterly miserable. I feel as if I have aged ten years since last Sunday.’

It was now made clear that there would be no ceasefire to evacuate the building safely. They would have to take their chances with the bombing and shelling outside, as would the remaining patients. Some of the Dutch occupants dithered but her father ordered Anje to leave. He would stay. The Tafelberg was his responsibility until the last of the wounded had gone. But she must go now. She feared she might never see him again. ‘Everyone says goodbye. I am crying. I can’t help it. I don’t want to go outside and face possibly being killed. On the other hand I am desperate to get away and out of this mess. We go on our way, past people who can’t make up their minds. I wave at the Tommies still left behind – and I never found out whether they came out of this mess alive. Aunt Anke and I make our way along a small corridor and have to step over a German corpse. We put our noses outside the door, into the open air – and sun! It seems ages since we saw the sun. Then machine-gun bullets hit the wall beside us and we disappear back inside. But we can’t stay here. We must go.’