Arnhem

It ended more quickly than that. ‘There was a shout, and two figures almost fell on top of us. One was a lieutenant and, when the firing ceased, he took stock of our circumstances. We were stuck, completely defenceless, and one of our party weak and still losing blood. He decided we must give up. The lieutenant called out in German and, when answered, he got to his feet, arms held high, broke cover and, waving his white handkerchief, walked towards the enemy machine guns. We saw him talking to the Germans, then he shouted out to us, “Drop any arms you’ve got and come over.” And that was it. That was the end of our battle. We entered a large building, we were searched and our equipment and smocks taken from us. We were then told to get some rest. We lay on a tiled floor and just fell asleep. I was glad it was over and I’d survived but the future was very uncertain. What was going to happen to us now?’

Last out of the headquarters building had been Tony Hibbert and his ten-man patrol, but they found progress difficult. Going quietly was impossible because the streets were covered in glass and the crunching could be heard a long way off. He headed south from the ruined headquarters building, hoping to hit the river. But it was soon clear that any movement was problematic. There were Germans everywhere, hunting down paras. ‘In whichever direction we moved, we ran into heavy German fire.’ The only recourse was to find somewhere to hide and hope to get away some time later – tomorrow, perhaps.

The major found a tiny coal shed and shared it with Anthony Cotterell, a writer and war reporter for the Army Bureau of Affairs. ‘It was so small that we hoped it would seem an unlikely place to look for two bodies.’ They hadn’t allowed for snoring – not theirs, but from another soldier in a nearby hiding place. The Germans, alerted by this loud snuffling, started ferreting around the area it was coming from and came on Hibbert and Cotterell as well. ‘We were hauled out, covered in coal dust, feeling very angry and foolish. They marched us off to the cathedral square, where a depressing sight met our eyes. About 20 officers and 130 other ranks were being guarded by a large number of very unfriendly SS guards. This probably represented most of the survivors from the bridge. It was a great shock. We’d felt sure some of them would have got away.’

And indeed some had – for now. Ted Mordecai seemed to have a charmed life. When he evacuated the headquarters building, he didn’t go far but took up position in a nearby back garden. He found an old slit trench and sat in there carefully cleaning accumulated dirt from his Bren gun so it would be primed for the next time he needed it. He stopped to dig into a tin of pilchards with his jack-knife. A shell landed nearby. ‘The pilchards were gone. And once again I was covered in earth. I was annoyed because I hadn’t eaten for ages. On top of that, I had to clean the Bren again.’ He could see German shells finishing off what walls remained of the brigade headquarters building, and he reckoned the garden he was in could well be their next target. So he ducked out of it, across an alley and into an orchard, pursued by Germans. ‘Jerry was almost on top of us but still being cautious and not coming too close.’ That wouldn’t last. ‘I was behind a wall when Jerry lobbed a potato-masher grenade over the top. One of our guys caught the full impact and later I found a piece of shrapnel in my leg.’

But Mordecai and what was left of his party still had ammunition. As night began to fall, he kept on firing, out into the darkness, trying to pinpoint the flashes of enemy gunfire and return bullet for bullet. When the Bren ammunition ran out, he picked up a Sten. Attack after attack was beaten off, ‘then there was a lull in the proceedings and Jerry called on us to surrender. A truce was called whilst a discussion took place between the Germans and our few remaining officers. Jerry agreed to let us hand over our wounded. After the wounded had been evacuated, the Germans again called for us to surrender and were told in Army fashion to “Shove off” (or something much cruder). Hostilities commenced once again.’