Sapper Alan Whitworth Gauntlett

Unit : No.3 Troop, 4th Parachute Squadron

Army No. : 14430206

The following are extracts from Sapper Gauntlett's short book about his wartime experiences, beginning with his arrival at Spanhoe airfield on Monday 18th September 1944:

After fourteen "Stand To's" - i.e. possible operations - we were now firmly convinced this was to be 'The Big One'. We lowered ourselves from the truck with our heavy and bulky equipment and stood by our troop aircraft, with chalk mark 725, awaiting orders. There was a delay on take off because of fog. Tea was available and much appreciated! Capt Brown at last told our stick (the sixteen on our plane) to stand in line to check and adjust our equipment, each checking the man in front.

Once inside the plane, we divided into two rows and sat down on metal seats lining each side of the fuselage. Jumping number nine, I sat half way down on the same side as the exit door. Taking off at 12.10 hrs we had a two hour flight, each man with his own thoughts...

A sudden burst of flack and a jolting of the craft. We were approaching the 'drop zone'. Capt Brown called "stand in lines" and we clipped our parachute hook to the static line and checked that the man in front was O.K. with a pat on the shoulder. Red light on. Capt Brown, with our despatcher an American aircrewman, stood in the now open door. Heart thumping - green light on - Capt Brown away - shuffle forward up to the door and out. My God, no going back now!

A snap as the chute opens. My heavy equipment drags. Are those bullets whistling by from machine guns? Looking around, I control the chute. Bang! I hit the ground in less than ten seconds. Yes, they are real bullets!

All around, there are hundreds of chutes in the air and dozens of planes. The planes are so low - 800 ft. How can they be missed? - but then some are hit. I shudder and turn away. We had been told the 'Bosche' knew we were coming and they had been well prepared. Some of the lads who dropped on Sunday were to control our dropping area, and a very good job they made of it against overwhelming forces.

The drop zone was a vast heather-covered open heath and our briefing was to collect in the north east corner. There would be blue smoke as pointers. The north east corner was easy, but blue smoke in a battle zone is not very clear. Ducking and diving, to minimise being a possible target, I stumbled on to our advanced party as instructed. I looked back and saw the heath ablaze from the fire-fight that was taking place as the Germans opposed the drop...

... A straggling collection of each Troop moved off at 17.00 hrs to form a defensive position for the night south of the railway line from Oosterbeck to Arnhem. Mortar fire, heavy machine guns, and rifle fire was continuously around us, with the occasional heart-stopping sound of heavy tanks moving ever nearer...

... On 19th Sept '44 after a night of intermittent shelling and the odd rifle fire we 'stood to' at 0500 hrs and received orders to move off towards Oosterbeck. At Wolfhege railway station the column stopped. Trouble ahead! Then all hell broke loose.

The Germans had outflanked us - behind, ahead and from the North. Firing seemed to be coming from all directions; ours going out, theirs coming in. It was sheer hell.

At this critical stage, German fighter planes appeared and I saw strafing along the road and up to and over the railway lines at the station. We all dived for cover and stayed there "eating dirt" until the fighter planes finished their attack.

There was confusion all around with few Officers to give orders. The only way was South, so in disarray we withdrew. This meant going back over the railway track via quite a high embankment. I was one of a party ordered to stay and assist jeeps etc over the track. It took eight men to bounce a jeep with trailer over each track. We managed four, but then one became completely stuck, unable to move. With sniper fire and mortar shells all around we started losing men, so we made a run for it...

... I continued South along a tree lined road. There were beautiful houses and lovely gardens along the way - many damaged by shelling - and the owners came out waving and cheering us as Liberators. Sadly they were soon to be disappointed and left to their fate.

Also along the road were blown up jeeps, wagons and German armoured vehicles, many with their dead drivers still inside. It was all too much to take in. Somehow it didn't seem real. I was in a complete daze and my actions became automatic.

We moved off the road and went through woodland. At dusk we were instructed to 'dig in'. My position was on the western edge of the woodland 50 yards from a road... Ahead of me was some pastureland about 400m x 100m. This position proved to be set as the final bridgehead, near the top of the "thumb" on the West side. We were told this line had to be held at all costs. With the danger of strafing heavy digging-in started. The soil was soft and leafy but we were only able to form a shallow groove...

I stayed in this spot until late on Friday 22nd September. Then began three days of hell, including Panzer Tanks approaching within 50 yards, then damaged by our Piatt gun, continuous attacks across the pastureland, also the verbal taunting by loudspeakers telling us what was happening at the bridge and to our folks at home. The Germans also had a wicked mortar we called a "Wailing Minnie". The mortars fire a dozen shells in approx 12 seconds. They wail in the sky, you heard them coming from a distance. If the first one exploded in front of you and the next one closer still, you willed God that the third one would be behind you...

Late on the 22 September during an attack I was hit in the leg by a mortar splinter. It was very hot and painful. At dusk a Medic was called and he helped me back to the dressing station for treatment. The dressing station was an old family house with three storeys and a basement and was full of dead and dying. This was another shock to my system - blood, bandages, stretchers loaded with injured: men who had lost limbs, men with bloody bandages on their heads. I felt guilty being there with just a leg wound.

After a night at the dressing station I heard contact had been made between our medics and the German medics and arrangements were being agreed for a "cease fire" so that the wounded and dead could be attended upon. The medic jeep at the dressing station could take one stretcher on the bonnet, one stretcher overhanging at the back, two walking wounded plus driver and one medic. I was one of the walking wounded.

There was heavy machine gun and rifle firing and mortar shelling all around outside the dressing station. With nerves on edge, my feelings impossible to describe, we heard very loud whistling and shouting. But gradually there was peace, and with a medic holding a white flag we moved out into what had been a crossfire of death. We moved down a lane lined with German soldiers in ditches, all heavily armed. They glanced up at us as we passed. There seemed to be Germans everywhere. Just a short drive, and then along a short lane, and we found we were back in our own defensive positions where there was a main Dressing Station. Half an hour later the curfew was lifted - and Hell on Earth was back again.

This dressing station was also nearly full, the sights, sounds, and smell never to be forgotten. I received further attention and was given medication and dressings for self use, leaving the medics free to attend to the more seriously wounded. It was here that I saw the extremely brave women of the house acting as orderlies dressing, cleaning and comforting the wounded and dying. Our doctors and medics worked continuously, seemingly unaware of the danger they were in...

In the afternoon of Monday 25th Sept an Officer... explained that we were to withdraw back over the Rhine from our bridgehead at Oosterbeck that night. All those able to walk were to wrap their boots in towelling to deaden any noise since there was up to a mile to walk down to the river... Those unable to walk (which included me) would have to give up to the Germans the following morning.

The Officer took as many names and numbers as possible, mine included. He promised that if he made it over the river he would let our families know we were alive at this time...

[Tuesday 26th September] ... We had been fighting the SS storm troopers and they were the first we saw coming towards us, fully equipped, helmets of their unusual look, grenades on their belts, ammunition hanging round their necks with machine guns in their hands. They were tough guys now (just as we thought we were in battle) battle weary but they had the swagger of the victor. They appeared to acknowledge their victory but also gave us credit for the battle we fought. These men rounded us up and with medical help we staggered a couple of hundred yards to an assembly point...

... Transport lorries arrived and those selected for hospital boarded the transport. My leg wound was such that they considered it required treatment... We travelled out of Oosterbeck, through the outskirts of Arnhem and then north to a place I later knew to be Appledorne where we were taken to an old Dutch military barracks, one of the three storey blocks adapted for hospital use. I am really in a daze and just follow orders up the stairs two flights turn left to the end of a very big room full of beds with palliasses and a blanket. I flop down on the last bed, my leg giving me much pain, and I collapsed with relief... Our medics had done wonders in setting up a field hospital with one of the blocks, of course with help from the Germans...

... After a couple of days we were allowed outside for exercise, this of course being limited to within the three block area... Our food was little but welcome, breakfast time we had a slice of dark brown bread with a spread of something and a tin mug of ersatz coffee, midday a mug full of vegetable soup and in the evening similar to breakfast...

One day an R.A.M.C. officer came into our room on his way round each block to tell us how we stood. He informed us that the Germans were constantly telling him that 500 men were fit for travelling and must be made ready to move. Our M.O. kept telling the Germans that this was impossible as most of the wounded were too bad to move. The officer asked us to help by malingering as much as possible and not appear too fit.

I arrived here on Tuesday 26th September 1944 and by Saturday 30th September 44 the German medical staff M.O's and orderlies started sudden inspections of all wounded and found as they expected many with little cause to remain in hospital, along with dozens of others Jon [Johnson] and I were on the list to leave, we knew transport was being prepared, this being trains to Germany...

... Our escape plan, for there was one, had to be at night, although it was near a full moon, we would go via the fire escape ladder, across a barrack road, a verge, a hedge, a fence and keep running! Not a good plan but we must try. We asked some of the lads to be our lookouts to check via windows the position of the patrolling guards after midnight and when they were least attentive.

It's midnight, all is set, we are signalled all is clear and we open the fire door and step out onto the first steel platform with our boots hanging around our necks, all is still. We look around and then down the steel ladder leading to the ground, one more step and we see movement below, a German guard looking up at us with his rifle at the hip. We froze and then in panic dashed back inside, stumbled to our beds and feigned sleep. As we did this all hell broke loose, guards shouting, lights coming on, guards burst into our rooms rifles ready and prodding those asleep. Just panic, panic all around but my head stayed under the blanket...

... [Next morning, Sunday 1st October] A good wash and a shave after our bread and coffee and feeling better we made our way down stairs for some exercise and fresh air. Our Chaplain had asked for a service to be held this morning, it was granted but chairs were required for some of the wounded. These chairs were to be collected by us, from a three storey block on the far side of the parade ground, approx 150-200 yards away. Jon and I walked along with the working party under the watchful eyes of four guards. We entered the block and my main concern was finding cigarette butts and there were many, up the stairs for more chairs? And more dog ends... Time goes by and Jon and I are on the third floor and we hear "a silence", uncanny. We look out of the window and see our working party with chairs and four guards well on the way back to our barrack block and for the service to be held...

... What should we do now? a situation completely unexpected. Various options came to mind the first to run after our party. Not good, wait an hour to see if we are missed, possibly wait until dark and try to escape, we had no further plan to follow at night time. With all these thoughts going on our stomachs were crying out for a little food.

We compromise and decided to wait for a while then go back for food! Time up and we proceed down the stairs out into the open, all seems quiet and here are two British soldiers in uniform walking along a German barrack road (with no chairs). Luck told us to walk back the long way round the parade ground this took us along the far road parallel to the hospital and then the long leg return which took us towards our block with the many soldiers still "exercising".

We hear a considerable noise, shouting and whistling, it came from our men and this appeared to attract the attention of the guards, a perfect diversion. Second nature took over, Jon and I looked at each other, nodded and dived for cover just off the road. A breath, then do or die, up and running through the vegetation, past a hut and up to the fence, no stopping we rolled down into the stream under the fence wire and up the other side. Ahead we saw a row of houses just beyond an allotment plot and roadside hedge with ditch... Running doubled up through the allotment we threw ourselves down into the roadside ditch, wet cold and desperate...

... There are a couple of men, young, in the roadway, they walk past but look directly at us. A couple of minutes later they returned and ask us if we were English. When we both replied yes, we were told to stay there.

About half an hour later they both return and tell us to be quick and follow them down a path between two houses to the back garden and into a small air raid shelter dug deep into the ground, with a hatch door, straw on the floor and two vent pipes... Minutes passed and the door opened, a plate of beans and potatoes put in and a request for our wet clothes for them to dry... The hot beans and potatoes the first hot food for over two weeks was more than welcome...

... Very early next morning we were taken out of the shelter and moved three houses away. We climbed a ladder up into the very small roof space, floor boarded out, with two palliasses and one potty...

... One day a head pops up through the ceiling hatch and takes a photo of each of us, later during the evening I am told I must remove my moustache, I look too British and the photos are for a Dutch identity card for us to have on our travels... There are Gestapo units in the area looking for young Dutch men needed for work in Germany. These men do anything not to go and find hiding places for weeks at a time. We are told this searching is not good for us as they become more frequent and the places to hide become less. We are to move tomorrow [5th October].

... Our move is arranged to be just before night curfew. We walk out arm in arm with our "Dutch girlfriends" the wives of our two men helpers. We are all on edge our hearts thumping. I keep looking at my army boots, they look so wrong. The "girls" do not speak much English so our walk is silent. Twenty minutes and thank God with nobody in sight we went into another semi detached house, met by another husband and wife. Our companions of the walk left quickly, after very sincere thank yous, so they could return to their husbands before curfew. How brave these people are they risk their lives, a real risk. A new position, two scared people willing to help lead us upstairs into a bedroom. A bed is pulled away from the wall and shows a recess between the false wall and sloping roof with a small door access to crawl through, it was very well hidden...

... [10th October] Two of the underground arrive just after curfew was lifted. They had four cycles, one for each of us, on the rack on the back of ours we saw a Hessian sack and we were told they contained our uniforms, dry and clean!!!... A very big thank you to our hosts and off we went, a few yards and I don't know what hit me, I was over the handlebars and on the gravel road with my bike on top of me. No one had explained to me that in Europe most cycle brakes work by back peddling. I had done the normal thing of free-wheeling but this put the brake on and over I went. I laugh now but at the time it caused a stir...

... About 45 minutes passing various vehicle and farm tractors and other cyclists, we kept formation and almost without notice our guides changed once and we had seen no guards or Germans... Off the cycles and pushing them along tracks between allotments as far as we could see in either direction. There were also many allotment sheds of various sizes and conditions. Yes, one of these would be our hideout for the next few days. Our shed was obviously a regular hideout, there were chairs, a stove, bedding, cups, water, plates, knives, cards and many bales of straw around "the living area". During our stay here there were always at least two Dutch Underground with us; they were no doubt also on the run...

... it's 5am Monday 16th October, our guides arrive with cycles, the same plan set out m[?] and distances to be kept. We are all quite emotional in our goodbyes, we have bonded with these Dutch people and feel for their hardships and family problems. They have been so generous in their giving of themselves and we can give nothing in return but thank you's...

... We keep to back lanes if possible but there were sections of our journey along main roads. Our journey was again first north then westward and finally south towards the Lower Rhine, but it is still miles away. I am getting tired, to cycle so far, not having exercise for days and little food. It all seems too much but thank God we have turned down a narrow farm track and this is our next secure "home". A neat, but very old farm, with out-building, chicken, pigs and a cow or two all loose around the buildings. With no sense of security the farmer and his wife greet us all in the yard like old friends...

... Friday 20th October early, a visitor, no, two visitors and four cycles. We are to move out; this is it, what we have been waiting for [The assembly for Operation Pegasus; the mass escape of evaders to the Allied lines]... The journey proved to be uneventful although after a couple of hours I noticed we were regularly passing Dutchmen cycling in the opposite way each pushing a cycle. (It was not until twenty four hours later I realised they were returning cycles used to transport earlier troops to the collection point.) Things moved with a blur, out front guide suddenly stopped along a wooded lane, waited for me, grabbed my cycle and pointing in the wood said GO THERE. Jon behind me was told to do the same. Our uniforms so carefully looked after and kept with us we had little thought and went with the cycles and were lost forever.

We dived into the wood and soldiers appeared everywhere directing and guiding us further into the wood. A Regimental Sergeant Major stood before us, my God back to earth with a bang, he asked name, rank and unit and said as engineers, although in civvies go left. We followed guides; all in uniform and told to "go to ground" two yards apart along an imaginary perimeter line... Early evening, we are to remain here for the night and a sandwich was supplied. Time drags, there is little noise each side of us and it is very cold with only a boiler suit on. Early morning and voices from near by, we move towards them, it was like an H.Q. on manoeuvres, a dozen men all round a small fire with tea, no milk, and sandwiches all in battledress. I borrowed a can for some tea with plenty of sugar and scrounged a sandwich, (where did they come from?) These men are getting ready for today's intake of troops they tell me there will be about 100 men altogether and that we will be moving out Sunday night if all goes well. Jon and I were some of the first to arrive in this woodland and our cycles of yesterday will bring more in today. God knows how but some came by lorry load, covered by farm material. Many came at night, still in uniform, but with special Dutch guides, through the countryside.

Sunday morning, it was so cold during the night but we had one thought, we were going home. In groups we were given our instructions. Midnight we leave in single file, try to keep hold of the man in front, it will be dark. Glider pilots will act as guides on route, they will have set the route with white tape where needed, of course we must make as little noise as possible and take orders when we get to the river and boarding boats, a rush to board can turn one over. I was a little concerned being still in civvies and doubly worried because Jon and I were to be the last in line.

As the day passed by we had less and less to say, like going into battle our thoughts turn to problems ahead and what was the chance of making it, two miles to the river was a long way and there must be Germans about somewhere along the line. It was a dark night and the minutes crept on to midnight. We started and I was amazed at how long it took for 100 men to start the long journey down to the river and for us to get started. Then at a steady pace we are off, so dark we could hardly see the man in front. The white tape helped and the occasional Glider Pilot guided us along the way, they then followed along behind (now we are not the last) and took up the tape. We walked along paths, lanes, roads and gardens, I thought with much noise, but with no challenges.

We suddenly bunch up and find we are very close to the river, hint of moonlight and a glint of the river about 100 yards ahead. Now we must wait for the call from the boat controller. The air is suddenly ablaze with mortar, and machine gun fire. We see tracer bullets crossing the river some 100 yards both upstream and downstream from our position, these tracer are the guides for the Canadian R.E's boats to come between. They are coming, we hear the first outboard engine, above the noise of the firing and we are ordered to move off over the muddy banks, slipping and sliding towards a dark outline of a boat prow with the controller standing and ready to receive us. The boats come in a steady flow, load and slip away into the fast flowing river. My turns comes and I'm off like a terrier, head down the mud sucks you down but with extra strength, perhaps the fear, I climbed on board heads down and we are away. Shells start falling the Germans are awake and know something is afoot. A cry and shooting ahead, a boat is hit and turned over but near the south bank. The flow of the river is very fast and our boat master has difficulty in steering our craft a straight course, what seems hours but really only minutes we bump into the south bank, and scramble out, heads down up the muddy slope to be greeted by Canadians, big strong lads almost throw us into the back of a 3 ton lorry to be driven off into the night. Leaving gun fire and flashes all behind. Safe at last.

24th and 25th October 1944 - After a nerve racking lorry ride along the treacherous Arnhem-Nijmegen road, pitch black and no lights, we arrived at the Hospital in Nijmegen. A meal and bed then at first light kitted out with a uniform, a doctor checked over and a debriefing before immediate transfer to the nearest aerodrome and plane to the UK.

END.

The following is Sapper Gauntlett's subsequent M.I.9 report:

Captured : Oosterbeek, 26 Sep 44.

Escaped : Apeldoorn, 1 Oct 44.

Left : Holland, 24 Oct 44.

Arrived : U.K., 24 Oct 44.

Date of Birth : 3 Jul 25.

Army Service : Since Jul 43.

Peacetime Profession : Student Engineering.

Private Address : Sandledene, Station Road, Fordingbridge, Hants.

I was in the Arnhem operation and was in the Divisional Headquarters grounds at Oosterbeek (N.W. Europe, 1:250,000, Sheet 2a and 3a, E 67) on 20 Sep 44, having been wounded that day. I remained here until 26 Sep, when I went to the regimental aid post centre. The Germans captured this centre at 0930 hours.

We were moved to the Divisional Headquarters grounds and were there until 1400 hours, when we were transferred to Arnhem hospital and from there to Apeldoorn (Z 70) hospital. We were here until 1 Oct 44.

At about 1200 hours L/Cpl Johnson and I were walking through the hospital grounds when we discovered we were not being observed. We darted behind a shed and after some time were able to make our way over some rough ground and barbed wire to a road.

We noticed some people watching us from a house. A man came out, recognised us as being English, and motioned us to lie low. He returned with another man and led us through some gardens to their air-raid shelter. They kept us there till dark, when we were taken to a market gardener's shed. From this point we were helped on our journey.

Following his return from Arnhem, Sapper Gauntlett was posted to the 1st Parachute Squadron, which had been amalgamated with the 4th Parachute Squadron, and later took part in the liberation of Norway before heading to Palestine with the 6th Airborne Division. On the 10th September 2014, he was a guest of honour at IWM Duxford for a special showing of, and gave a brief introduction to, the film Theirs is the Glory. Alan Gauntlett passed away on the 15th October 2018.

See also: Private Reid.

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