Report by Harold Whittingham

Harold Whittingham statement/report:

Thursday 21st

In Lonsdale force, my orders were to cover the gardens (now Zuiderbeekweg and Ploegseweg) and the field beyond. This field was on the Arnhem side of the Van Hofwegen Laundry. A part of the gardens belonged to Mr Breman's house and forge (this is now 117-119 Benedendorpsweg) our riflemen were digging trenches in this part of the gardens which faced the open farmfield. At this point I left Nobby Clarke here to dig our o.p. trench (the garden soil was too sandy to dig deep). In my search I came across a small backyard, size approx 3 by 9 yards. There was only a small 6 foot entrance to this yard. It was surrounded by the side of a large house, a high brick wall and several barns. The height of the buildings was about 20 feet, so here was my perfect mortar pit, one at least 20 feet deep!

In the meantime Sgt Geekie had found a few more of our battalion platoon at the old church. This now brought our strength to 12.

Living in the house were Mr and Mrs Breman, their two daughters aged 15 and 11 years, plus two elderly ladies. Mr Breman was most helpful to us. He not only agreed to my mortar being placed within one yard of his backdoor, he also agreed to having my men in his house which had two cellars. In one of the attic toprooms were their winter storage of fruit, vegetables and tobacco. Outside, in one of the barns were some chickens. We had not eaten for several days and Mrs Breman not only prepared a hot meal for us then, but in the following days they shared all their food until nothing was left.

Little then did we realise the fierce fighting there was going to be, leading to the complete destruction of this part of the village. When we were firing our first bombs it was reported to me that Mr Breman had said to my crew: "That is music to my ears". Very soon we heard the German orchestra, they played "the thunder and lightning polka!"

During the period thursday 21st to Sunday 24th Sgt Geekie, daily, dawn to dusk took his team of men out searching for mortar bombs and food. Due to his effort on his part our mortar was never out of action for want of bombs.

Daily at frequent intervals we used to bomb the woods between the laundry area and the town hall. This bombing must have caused enemy casualties! They must have been very cross with us, because their reply fire was a six barrel crescendo. All hell used to be let loose against us, yet only once did they get into our pit and according to Frank McCormick that one was a dud. Mark you all the other shells got no further than the roofs of the barns and houses surrounding us.

I think it was about Saturday 23rd some Germans got into the dead ground about 80 yards from our o.p. This distance was much too short for normal 3" bombing. We reduced the number of main secondary charges to two, then to one. Still the bombs were overs! In desperation I ordered "primary charge only". This small charge was meant only to ignite the main charges and our infantry, Nobby and myself saw the bomb in the air! It was hardly moving. It was obtaining no height and I was fearful it was going to fall amongst us at the o.p.! Then the bomb slowly turned in the air and landed smack on target. Two other bombs followed and by this time the rubbish was coming back as they tried to silence us, once again! All hell was being let loose as shells landed amongst us - not even our riflemen loved us as the german fire played havoc in their trench area.

On this day also a sniper bullet just grazed my head, drawing blood, but no brains! Sunday 24th Nobby found me wounded in the garden and with the aid of Mr Breman, who made a pair of crutches for me, they got me to the house and cellar.

Tuesday 26th

In the early daylight hours a furious row was going on upstairs. Again it was Mr Breman looking after the interest of the wounded. He was arguing with the German SS not to throw grenades into the cellars as only women and wounded were in them.

 ----- Nowadays many ex-soldiers returning to visit Oosterbeek remember not the house and the forge, but the room that had a piano in it being played by an 11 year old girl. As for myself, 15 years after September '44, Frank and I met on a pilgrimage. After visiting the cemetery and the old church we started to explore. We found the yard with its waterpump - this is the place, Frank said, and he knocked on the back door of 117; who should open it - none other than Mrs Bertha Breman! It is good to recall that the Breman family and my mortar crew all came through and that the piano girl had married Chris van Roekel and lived at 119. For myself, my reward for having been responsible in having their home smashed up when I visited them in September '44, and instead of sleeping in the cellar I have since "the guest of honour bedroom".

From Miss Bremen’s Diary:

[Miss Breman was a 15 year old girl who lived in Oosterbeek and kept a diary as the battle unfolded. Her parents' home was taken over on Thursday 21st by men of the 1st Parachute Battalion's Mortar Platoon, included amongst whom was Sergeant Harold “Dick” Whittingham, Private Nobby Clarke, Frank McCormick, and Reg Curtis.]

Thursday, September 21st

This morning the English soldiers give us something to eat: meat and vegetables. Last night they almost managed to set the room on fire. They had put a candle on a glass ashtray. The ashtray got so hot that it burst, so that the tablecloth caught fire and a hole was burnt in the table itself. Fortunately they discovered it before it was too late. The shooting has continued all morning and we are not allowed to leave the cellar. At noon we had another English meal which was very nice.

In the afternoon the Germans suddenly start to fire very heavily. Many English soldiers got into our cellar. Then another comes down and tells us that a container with ammunition at the other side of the house has been hit and is now burning. Everything will now explode. The soldiers that were in the other cellar now also came and joined us: the container stands just outside the cellar and they are no longer safe there. They all bring axes. Some parts of the wall collapse, but there is no fire. We all sit tight together on our heels in order to make room for all the people. We get very stiff. A couple of soldiers come down with a wounded man. They put him on the ground and cover him with a blanket. I stand up, but suddenly my legs get very wobbly, so I must sit down again. Suddenly Len and Gerald come down. I am very pleased to see some familiar faces. They examine the wounded soldier and say that he has no wounds but that he has a fright, that he has a "shock", because of a grenade exploding near to him. He looks a bit calmer now. They have given him some eau-de-cologne and now he dozes a bit... We call the wounded man "Uncle John" {His real name is Private Nobby Clarke} because he resembles my Mummy's brother who is also called John. He has had something to eat and drink, but he is still very absent-minded and does not recognise me when I ask him how he is. They have put a wet towel on his head. The other soldiers often come to have a look at him. They treat their wounded very differently from the Germans who stayed with the Klaassen family.

Saturday, September 23rd

The English now begin to have a shortage of food. Yesterday many parachutes were dropped but too many landed outside the English lines, so now the Germans have them. Some parachutes came down in the meadow, but the shooting was too heavy and the soldiers could not get near them. We went upstairs to watch the parachutes come down, some landed in our garden and at the back of the house. Then the shooting began again so we had to go down. I asked Gerald about Len, but he does not want to talk about him.

In the afternoon Frank {McCormick} comes down. He comes from Ireland, so he is also a volunteer. He is a nice boy with thick, black; curly hair. He is mad on Roelie, whom he calls Blondie. She has taught him some Dutch: "Hou je mond. Je bent een wurm. Nee. Ja. Je bent een kip zonder kop. Je bent een kat". ("Shut up. You are a worm. No. Yes. You talk through your hat. You are a cat.") He is very proud of what he has been taught. When he comes down they rehearse everything.

Monday, September 25th

During the morning everything is rather quiet. I went upstairs with Gerald. We stood talking to Aunt Jo in the corridor when a wounded soldier came up the stairs from the other cellar. He had one arm in a sling and a bandage around his head. Behind him came another wounded soldier, who was being helped by six others who carried him upstairs. It was Hawk-nose! {Sgt “Dick” Whittingham}. He is one of our friends. His left leg has been bandaged. I am very sorry for him that he is now so helpless. I go down into our cellar, the shooting has started again. Then Frank comes down. He serves the mortar, but in between his shooting he comes down to talk to us.