Arnhem

James Sims was still in his slit trench in the middle of that crossroads, where, somehow, not a single bomb or splinter hit him. ‘With each successive salvo of mortar bombs I screwed my steel helmet further into the earth and clawed at the silty soil. I kept repeating to myself, “Hold on … hold on … you must hold on.”’ Lying there all alone felt to him ‘like being in a newly dug grave waiting to be buried alive. Each fresh explosion sent rivulets of earth crumbling around my helmet and into my mouth. I started praying, and really meaning it, for the first time in my life.’ His was a rabbit’s-eye view of the battle, popping his head out from time to time to see wave after wave of German attacks repelled. ‘One German soldier fell just outside the White House. Two airborne medics, unarmed, wearing Red Cross armbands and carrying a stretcher, ran out from our battalion headquarters building to aid him. Their mission must have been obvious to everyone, but I heard the ripping fire of a German machine gun and saw the front man crumple into the gutter. The man at the rear sprinted for safety, pursued by a hail of bullets. A howl of rage went up from the watching paratroopers at this act of murder.’ The body of the dead medic lay 10 yards from Sims, next to the corpse of the German he had died trying to save. ‘Debris from a burning house began to fall on them. The flames got hold of the uniform of the medic and licked hungrily along his spine. I looked away.’

If Sims felt all alone out there on the island, that was because, by now, he really was. He heard a shout from the window of a building. ‘Blimey,’ said a voice, ‘there’s someone still down there. Eh, you! Come inside out of it.’ Sims remonstrated. He’d been ordered to stay there. The voice enlightened him. ‘There’s no one out there any more except you. Now come on in.’ He was appalled and affronted. ‘How had I been overlooked when everyone had been recalled?’ He surmised that he must have been so far down in his slit trench that he had been missed. ‘Gathering my gear and rifle, I slid out of the trench and made for the nearest house. A fusillade of shots rang out, one of which hit the pack I was carrying and spun it round in my hand, but I got there safely.’

Once inside the house, Sims went upstairs. ‘I sat down and took off my steel helmet for the first time in nearly three days and rested my head in my hands for a moment. Then I wandered into one of the front bedrooms which overlooked the northern end of the bridge.’ A defender lying prone behind a window urged him to get down. ‘There’s no one out there,’ Sims whispered. The other soldier nodded to a still figure lying in the corner. ‘That’s what he thought,’ he said. There was a blood-stained rag over the dead man’s face but a jolted Sims recognized him by his unusual height. ‘A couple of weeks ago he’d got me to forge a sleeping-out pass that he had liberated from some adjutant’s desk so that he could stay the night with a girl in Nottingham. Now he was asleep for good.’ Sims also discovered that his best mate, a Cockney known as Slapsie, had also bought it, blown in half by a shell. ‘I was stunned. It was hardly possible. An ex-Commando, veteran of Norway, Tunisia, Sicily and Italy, Slapsie always seemed indestructible. We had shared the same billet, eaten together, drunk together, taken the mickey out of each other, and mucked in together. Now he was gone. A sergeant saw how distressed I was and gave me a swig of cherry brandy. I was really grateful for it.’

That evening, the White House fell. Sims recalled it first being sprayed with enemy tracer, which the Germans used as a warning that this was the next target for their big guns. It was a last chance for those inside to flee. No one did, and five minutes later a shell from a self-propelled gun burst against the wall from no more than a hundred yards away, point-blank range. ‘It hit the top floor and the entire building seemed to shake itself like a dog. We could plainly see the riflemen and airborne engineers inside, caution thrown to the wind, kneeling openly at the blasted windows and pouring fire down at the Germans as though determined to take as many as possible with them to death.’ The big gun came even closer and fired a second shell. ‘The walls of the White House appeared to breathe out before the whole structure collapsed, floors fell inside and a towering column of flame shot into the sky. A cut-off scream marked the end of many gallant riflemen and engineers.’ The destruction of the imposing and seemingly rock-solid White House was a blow to morale. ‘Its sudden collapse was a terrific shock for us all.’