Operation Market Garden—a diary excerpt by T/Sgt. Winfield E. (Bing) Wood Bing was the aerial engineer and crew chief of C-47A, S/N 42-9284, assigned to the 61st Troop Carrier Squadron. This aircraft was named “Turf & Sport Special”. September 16, 44 The British were on the field all night loading the plane. It looks as though we are really going to go this time. September 17, 44 All of us thought we were going to get an extra hours sleep this fine Sunday morning, but we were fooled. We were called early to get ready for the mission. Our stuff had been trucked to the plane yesterday, so we dashed over to chow, then to a briefing. Our faces fell when we learned we were to drop at Arnhem in Holland. That meant a long run over enemy territory in broad daylight. This first run was to touch off a series of drops. Crew chiefs dashed from the briefing to the planes and gave them a last-minute check. After the check, we gathered together and discussed the mission. None of us were very happy and we took a last look around as though maybe this was the last time we would see a lot of the old gang. Pilots came out at 10:15 and we took our places in line on the perimeter track. The first squadron was airborne at 11:20 and ours at 11:32. Each element consisted of 36 planes carrying 16 paratroopers and three bundles. The takeoff was smooth and only took us twelve minutes. We were all plenty nervous because we had been told during the briefing that it would take an hour to fly into the DZ and at least another hour to get out. But they had reassured us a little by telling us that every known anti-aircraft battery had taken a good going over and were still being hammered. They warned us that we must stick to the prearranged route to escape the flak. It took us about a half-hour to get into formation. Then we lined out on our way. As usual, the countryside around our field was buried under a morning blanket of fog. Near the coast the fog broke so we could see the people going to church. We headed out over the channel and soon picked up our fighter cover. As we came in contact with them, we passed a British glider train.Just before we reached the Dutch coast, I saw a stream of golden fire flash from the ground, up out of sight into the stratosphere. At the time I thought it was a new means of anti-aircraft, but later learned that we had seen the trail of fire left by a V-2 rocket bomb. That started the cold sweat running down my back, and from my position between the two pilots, could see by the backs of their necks that I wasnt the only one feeling nervous.For twenty minutes we flew over flooded countryside. The Germans, to forestall attacks on this part of the coastline, had cut the dikes and flooded the whole countryside. It was a pitiful sight to fly over farms, towns, and even cities and see nothing but a few roofs and upper floors of the buildings sticking out over the water. At a few places, cattle or other livestock could be seen marooned on higher ground. At other high places we could see the remains of anti-aircraft batteries, and I do mean remains. They had been blasted out of existence. I saw one good example of how thorough our air cover operated. While we were still flying over the inundated countryside, I saw a flak boat put out from a small harbor to maneuver into position so it could take pot shots at the line of troop carrier planes. It no sooner got away from the concealment of the shoreline than things started to happen. A rocket-firing Typhoon swept in at wave-top level and loosened two rockets. The boat blew up with a blinding flash of flame and smoke. I dont think they even saw the plane that hit it. A pillar of black smoke plumed straight up into the sky, and we were out of sight before it sunk. About the time we reached dry ground, people were just coming from church. The people in the streets were dressed in their Sunday best. As they saw us serenely sailing along overhead, they went wild. For a short time they were sort of dazed by the sight of hundreds of planes, then they started waving flags, bed sheets, and anything else they could get their hands on. We were flying low enough so we could see the expressions on their faces. Their mouths were open as they screamed and hollered and danced around.I stood in the open door and watched for evidence of resistance, once in a while leaning out to look ahead. Suddenly a troop carrier plane went winging back to England. It was just skimming the ground. It was soon followed by two more. Both of these were making the tops of the trees shake, they were so low. My heart dropped a foot and my mouth turned so dry I could have spit feathers because this meant the first troop carriers into the DZ had run into plenty trouble. Just when I felt the worst, I happened to look up level with our formation and saw a returning formation coming in perfectly formed echelons. Then I knew that the first planes skimming the ground were the radar planes, and that the perfect formation showed that we were running into no trouble at all. That relieved some of the nervous tension that was building up. Ten minutes out I had the paratroopers latch up and checked their equipment to be sure everything was okay. Three minutes out, the pilot called back and at the same time gave them the red light. Then he pulled the throttles back till we were almost to stalling speed and leveled the plane off at four hundred feet, speed about ninety-five miles an hour. The DZ was already dotted with multi-colored parachutes and small figures could be seen gathering supplies. The pilot called for me to get ready for the drop. I watched the warning light and tapped the jumpmaster on the back when the light flashed green. He smiled, said Cheerio, and went out the door. Each trooper shuffled to the door, stood there for an instant as he hitched his leg bundle into position, cheeriod, then jumped out of the plane. The troopers all unloaded beautifully. We made a turn and headed out. The radio operator and radar man helped me pull in the static cords. It is a hell of a job to pull them in, even with three men doing the hauling. As we left the DZ, we could see the people from a nearby town rushing out to help the troopers gather their equipment. Our squadron was fired on by flak, but we never even knew it till we got back to base. The squadron behind us said the flak was going right up through the formation to burst high above. Our squadron escaped without a hit, but other outfits werent as lucky
Posted on: Mon, 27 Jan 2014 08:25:45 +0000
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