The first time Dad went to Arnhem, he flew in on a twin-engined Dakota. This time he arrived in Harwich in an electric Tesla and was taxied to Arnhem in an electric London cab. How times have changed!!! To add to the excitement of his first return trip to the Netherlands, we had to detour as the M11 was closed due to an accident, but this also meant we drove past the Imperial War Museum, Duxford where we were treated to an unplanned fly-by of a spitfire, not once but twice over our taxi. It was quite symbolic of the days ahead.
More than seven decades ago, Dad took a leap into the unknown. Prior to the outbreak of the war, he looked destined to a peaceful life as a farmer. The war changed that, with him joining up as a young man, initially in the RAF (for which he was later forgiven by his father) for a few short months, before enrolling in the Wiltshire Regiment (earning his father’s forgiveness, approval and a pint). Claiming it was on the promise of extra pay he then joined the newly formed Parachute Regiment. This led to the biggest step he could possibly have taken when, on the afternoon of 18 September 1944, he stepped out of the Dakota into the abyss of rain and hails of gunfire to play his part in the defeat of the scourge that had destroyed the lives of so many people of the Netherlands and the rest of Europe.
In the following years he married, had five children and a variety of jobs, often involving travel and long hours with little chance of time off. In some ways his wartime experiences became a distant memory, but in others they continued to haunt him.
He outlived his wife, siblings and most of his friends, maintaining his health and a level of fitness that even at the age of 98 means he is able to do things that many people half of his age would find difficult. Much of this is down to his positive attitude.
My siblings and I have always been aware that Dad’s war time service involved him being a paratrooper involved in Operation Market Garden and being sent to Palestine, but not a lot more. Dad had sometimes spoken of meeting a Dutch woman who, when she learned of his connection to the battle for Arnhem, hugged him, a complete stranger, like a long-lost friend who had rescued her, thanking him profusely. He discovered she had come from the district but didn’t understand why she was thanking him for what he considered to be a failure.
Many years later, in 2019, shortly after the 75th anniversary of the Battle of Arnhem, with Dad’s permission, I applied for the Arnhem Veterans’ Medal. Little did we know this would lead to a whole new world of recognition and special friendships, particularly with Gerrit Pjipers and his wife Johanna, with whom Dad feels an amazing bond of friendship. So, after spending a lifetime trying to distance himself from his wartime experiences, he took the most recent huge step and attended the 2022 Airborne Wandeltocht accompanied by myself and my sister Judy.
The visit was incredible and the welcome indescribable. He has thoroughly enjoyed his experiences, especially kisses and hugs from the ladies!! Dad has been transformed by this visit in a good way and was even singing a song to us that they used to sing whilst waiting to jump. The song was sung to the tune of Red River Valley and goes:
Oh, come and sit by my side if you love me
Do not hasten to bid me adieu
But remember the poor paratrooper
And the job he is trying to do
When the red light goes on, we are ready
For the Sergeant to shout “Number One”
Though we sit in the plane close together
We all tumble out, one by one
When we’re coming in for a landing
Just remember the Sergeant’s advice
Keep your feet and your knees closer together
And you will reach mother earth very nice
When we land in a certain country
There’s a job we will do very well
We will fire old Goering and Adolph
And all of those blighters as well
So, stand by your glass and be ready
And remember the men of the sky
Here’s a toast to the men dead already
And a toast for the next man to die.
Although the old romantic used to replace the final verse with:
Oh, come and sit by my side if you love me
Do not hasten to bid me adieu
But remember the poor paratrooper
(adding) Whose love, it will always be true.
Dad has become quite the celebrity, but most importantly he now realises that what
he had thought had been an unsuccessful military attempt had actually provided
hope to a whole generation and their descendants, although he still maintains it was
nothing special and he was just following orders just like other soldiers! “I was just
doing my job”.
He is humbled by the welcome and outflowing of love and thanks from the Dutch
people he has met on this trip, saying, “… we’ve always been friends”.
He is still singing this morning, walking tall and is very happy. We are all so very
grateful to those who have made this trip possible and hope to see you all again.
Jan (Larder) Davis
