Operation MARKET GARDEN: Eindhoven
Lewis Nixon had never known that the Dutch were such a rowdy bunch. Must be something the Germans put in the water, he muses acerbically to himself, making his way through the dancing, shouting, singing, cheering, waving crowds that have been pouring out of every house in Eindhoven. There's been no resistance since the paratroopers landed in the Dutch fields of tall grass and grains. Nix can't decide whether that makes him more or less nervous about what lies ahead.
The crowds push closer and closer as Dick Winters stands on a street corner, peering through his field glasses. He’s scanning the windows and rooftops of surrounding buildings but is finding it difficult to distinguish anything out of the ordinary. He feels someone jostle him from behind, but doesn’t pay attention to the movement until he hears a familiar voice.
"Dick, clock's tickin'," says Nixon, pushing his way through the nearest part of the madness.
The fact that a number of paratroopers are joining the celebration, despite the shouting of the officers for them to continue, isn't helping matters. "Keep your squad moving!" is a constant cry in the background.
Nix watches it all uneasily, glancing at Dick.
"Yeah." Winters tucks his binoculars into his field jacket after one last, long look at the area. Pulling on the collar of his uniform, he attempts to downplay the fact he's an officer, trying instead to look like any one of the dozens of paratroopers strung out through the crowd. He's not paying attention when a young woman with a laughing smile grabs his shoulders and presses a kiss to his lips.
"Thank you," is all Winters can think to mutter as he pulls away, the woman turning and continuing on her way.
Beside him, Nix is dealing with his own overzealous thankful citizen. "Thank you, thank you . . ." The young lady is not to be dissuaded, despite the paratrooper not-so-subtly trying to pull away from her and her hands, and Nixon nearly pulls a face as she kisses him. "Very kind." As the laughing girl and her friend move on, Nix spots Harry Welsh approaching with a sour expression.
Moving through the crowded streets, big blond Lieutenant Buck Compton spots Winters, Nixon and Welsh grouped by the street corner. "What's up, Welshie?" he asks the shorter man as he comes upon the tense-looking trio. He scans the sea of people, waiting to hear what's happening.
Harry turns his head slightly as he proceeds to pop his jacket collar up, covering up the brass he wears. Or trying to. The damned map case strap just doesn't seem to want to play nice. "Snipers. We gotta get to those bridges." Finally giving up, he slings the case forward, hugging it close and generally looking slightly annoyed.
Screams are a thing that tend to catch a man's attention. The four soldiers begin to notice the women being dragged through the crowd, and the American officers push their way through to the edge. Inside the loose circle, a half dozen women are being stripped down to their undergarments in the dust, screaming and crying, other women mercilessly ripping their clothes off.
One woman wails as one man holds her down, and another Dutch woman cuts off her hair in giant chunks with a big pair of scissors. Her scalp is bleeding. The crowd chants in vicious-sounding Dutch, still waving their orange flags.
Nix doesn't know what they're saying, and he’s got even less of an idea as to what's going on. Mouth dry, he says, "What'd they do?"
Someone had been listening. "Zey slept with zee Germans," a man about the same age as the officers says in a rather cocky form. He wears an orange brassard on his left arm, proudly displaying it, along with the openly wide smile he shares with the Americans. "Zey are lucky. Ze men who collaborated are being shot."
Nix looks over his shoulder at the accented voice. He recognizes the other man and he turns the rest of the way around, and glances at Dick and Harry. "Mr. van Kooijk here is with the Dutch resistance."
van Kooijk offers his hand to each man, clasping the American’s with his right and covering with his left. His handshake is firm and very respectful. "We've been vaiting and hoping for this day . . . for almost five years."
The throngs of Dutch continue to sing and dance around them, waving American and Dutch flags as well as orange banners, pleased with their newfound freedom. However, still, in the distance, the cries of anger of those watching the punished women add a tense hint to the air.
Ignoring the cheering crowds, the paratroopers getting dragged through-and away from Dutch women-by their commanding officers, and the general clamor, Nixon says, "Says he can help us secure the bridges here."
The member of the Dutch resistance gives a firm nod. "Yes. Together ve can push zee remaining Germans out of Eindhoven." Pausing, van Kooijk raises his hands palms up, still smiling from ear to ear. "And that's just zee beginning."
Tilting his head to the side a bit, Winters thinks for a moment. "Any idea where they might be?" he asks over the din of the crowd pressing in on them.
The smile wavers just slightly. "Ah, vell," the Dutch man starts, almost looking embarrassed, "vee're still working on that right now." van Kooijk turns to his right, motioning with his hand for a young boy-also wearing an orange armband-to approach. "Peers and his friends here are gathering information as ve speak. His contacts, a couple of towns down, said they saw the British 2nd and guards armored move through, half an hour ago."
"They're just kids," is all Winters can think of to say as this latest bit of intelligence is passed on to him. He glances at Nix off to his side, trying to gauge his reaction without being obvious about it.
Nixon's expression, as he glances back at Dick, says '. . . Well' eloquently, without a word passing between them.
van Kooijk is quick to reassure the officers. "These are reliable reports. Anything ve can do to help you, ve vill do." The boy, Peers, looks up from Winters to Nixon then back again, giving a firm nod. He is much like the adults in this situation-calm and matter-of-fact. Anything to chase the Germans from their lands. "Anything."
With a pat on the shoulder, van Kooijk directs Peers back towards his friends. Just then, something large, olive drab, and covered in people starts down the street.
The British armored have finally arrived.
"Right on time," somebody mutters, as they all turn to watch the jeeps and tanks-covered in pretty girls waving flags and young soldiers puffing out their chests-crawl down the street. Their progress is agonizingly slow.
Turning his head away from the slowly-moving tanks and the waving Brits, van Kooijk looks back to the American officers. "Captain. I'll be happy to show you the quickest route to the bridges"
Winters sighs as he watches the 2nd Armored tanks clank and begin their move into town. Turning back to van Kooijk, he fixes a steady gaze on the man. "I'd be happy to have your help." To the American officers standing with him, he says, "Get scouts to the edge of town in case we're here for the night."
van Kooijk nods at his words and glances down the street once more. The vehicles continue to crawl down the street, and the Allied military personnel keep right on celebrating as though they've already won the war.
Nixon isn't the only one who has a bad feeling about this.
The crowds push closer and closer as Dick Winters stands on a street corner, peering through his field glasses. He’s scanning the windows and rooftops of surrounding buildings but is finding it difficult to distinguish anything out of the ordinary. He feels someone jostle him from behind, but doesn’t pay attention to the movement until he hears a familiar voice.
"Dick, clock's tickin'," says Nixon, pushing his way through the nearest part of the madness.
The fact that a number of paratroopers are joining the celebration, despite the shouting of the officers for them to continue, isn't helping matters. "Keep your squad moving!" is a constant cry in the background.
Nix watches it all uneasily, glancing at Dick.
"Yeah." Winters tucks his binoculars into his field jacket after one last, long look at the area. Pulling on the collar of his uniform, he attempts to downplay the fact he's an officer, trying instead to look like any one of the dozens of paratroopers strung out through the crowd. He's not paying attention when a young woman with a laughing smile grabs his shoulders and presses a kiss to his lips.
"Thank you," is all Winters can think to mutter as he pulls away, the woman turning and continuing on her way.
Beside him, Nix is dealing with his own overzealous thankful citizen. "Thank you, thank you . . ." The young lady is not to be dissuaded, despite the paratrooper not-so-subtly trying to pull away from her and her hands, and Nixon nearly pulls a face as she kisses him. "Very kind." As the laughing girl and her friend move on, Nix spots Harry Welsh approaching with a sour expression.
Moving through the crowded streets, big blond Lieutenant Buck Compton spots Winters, Nixon and Welsh grouped by the street corner. "What's up, Welshie?" he asks the shorter man as he comes upon the tense-looking trio. He scans the sea of people, waiting to hear what's happening.
Harry turns his head slightly as he proceeds to pop his jacket collar up, covering up the brass he wears. Or trying to. The damned map case strap just doesn't seem to want to play nice. "Snipers. We gotta get to those bridges." Finally giving up, he slings the case forward, hugging it close and generally looking slightly annoyed.
Screams are a thing that tend to catch a man's attention. The four soldiers begin to notice the women being dragged through the crowd, and the American officers push their way through to the edge. Inside the loose circle, a half dozen women are being stripped down to their undergarments in the dust, screaming and crying, other women mercilessly ripping their clothes off.
One woman wails as one man holds her down, and another Dutch woman cuts off her hair in giant chunks with a big pair of scissors. Her scalp is bleeding. The crowd chants in vicious-sounding Dutch, still waving their orange flags.
Nix doesn't know what they're saying, and he’s got even less of an idea as to what's going on. Mouth dry, he says, "What'd they do?"
Someone had been listening. "Zey slept with zee Germans," a man about the same age as the officers says in a rather cocky form. He wears an orange brassard on his left arm, proudly displaying it, along with the openly wide smile he shares with the Americans. "Zey are lucky. Ze men who collaborated are being shot."
Nix looks over his shoulder at the accented voice. He recognizes the other man and he turns the rest of the way around, and glances at Dick and Harry. "Mr. van Kooijk here is with the Dutch resistance."
van Kooijk offers his hand to each man, clasping the American’s with his right and covering with his left. His handshake is firm and very respectful. "We've been vaiting and hoping for this day . . . for almost five years."
The throngs of Dutch continue to sing and dance around them, waving American and Dutch flags as well as orange banners, pleased with their newfound freedom. However, still, in the distance, the cries of anger of those watching the punished women add a tense hint to the air.
Ignoring the cheering crowds, the paratroopers getting dragged through-and away from Dutch women-by their commanding officers, and the general clamor, Nixon says, "Says he can help us secure the bridges here."
The member of the Dutch resistance gives a firm nod. "Yes. Together ve can push zee remaining Germans out of Eindhoven." Pausing, van Kooijk raises his hands palms up, still smiling from ear to ear. "And that's just zee beginning."
Tilting his head to the side a bit, Winters thinks for a moment. "Any idea where they might be?" he asks over the din of the crowd pressing in on them.
The smile wavers just slightly. "Ah, vell," the Dutch man starts, almost looking embarrassed, "vee're still working on that right now." van Kooijk turns to his right, motioning with his hand for a young boy-also wearing an orange armband-to approach. "Peers and his friends here are gathering information as ve speak. His contacts, a couple of towns down, said they saw the British 2nd and guards armored move through, half an hour ago."
"They're just kids," is all Winters can think of to say as this latest bit of intelligence is passed on to him. He glances at Nix off to his side, trying to gauge his reaction without being obvious about it.
Nixon's expression, as he glances back at Dick, says '. . . Well' eloquently, without a word passing between them.
van Kooijk is quick to reassure the officers. "These are reliable reports. Anything ve can do to help you, ve vill do." The boy, Peers, looks up from Winters to Nixon then back again, giving a firm nod. He is much like the adults in this situation-calm and matter-of-fact. Anything to chase the Germans from their lands. "Anything."
With a pat on the shoulder, van Kooijk directs Peers back towards his friends. Just then, something large, olive drab, and covered in people starts down the street.
The British armored have finally arrived.
"Right on time," somebody mutters, as they all turn to watch the jeeps and tanks-covered in pretty girls waving flags and young soldiers puffing out their chests-crawl down the street. Their progress is agonizingly slow.
Turning his head away from the slowly-moving tanks and the waving Brits, van Kooijk looks back to the American officers. "Captain. I'll be happy to show you the quickest route to the bridges"
Winters sighs as he watches the 2nd Armored tanks clank and begin their move into town. Turning back to van Kooijk, he fixes a steady gaze on the man. "I'd be happy to have your help." To the American officers standing with him, he says, "Get scouts to the edge of town in case we're here for the night."
van Kooijk nods at his words and glances down the street once more. The vehicles continue to crawl down the street, and the Allied military personnel keep right on celebrating as though they've already won the war.
Nixon isn't the only one who has a bad feeling about this.