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The Unknown Hero

T

he Germans on either side of the road between Eindhoven and Nijmegen did what the 101st Airborne Division expected: they made an all-out effort to cut the narrow corridor on which the column of British vehicles were traveling, and they did so near the corridor’s base. If the Germans could staunch the flow of Horrocks’ XXX Corps early, then they could easily mop up the isolated airborne units to the north in Nijmegen and Arnhem. The attack came at Veghel, the site of key bridges that promised to snarl traffic once destroyed. It happened on D-plus-5 in a coordinated attack that came from the north, northwest and southeast, and it produced the largest battle in which the 101st had been involved to this point in Holland.

The command staff of the 101st had known from D-plus-3 that an attack was coming, but they did not know for sure where. Early in the morning of D-plus-5 they got word from Dutch Underground sources that the Germans were moving in the direction of Veghel and Uden. Heavy concentrations of German infantry, plus one panzer and one assault gun brigade were in the area and converging. Gen. Taylor sent Gen. McAuliffe to Veghel early in the morning to find a new location for the Division CP. When it became clear that the attack would be on Veghel, Taylor told McAuliffe to stay and take charge. Just after 1100 the Germans cut the road north of town, between Veghel and Uden, and the 2d Battalion of the 506th arrived. McAuliffe dispatched the unit to the Uden road to stop the Germans before they could move in on Veghel. But these Germans had tanks.

Lt. Col. X.B. Cox, who was the CO of the 81st Airborne Anti-Aircraft / Anti-Tank Battalion, was nearby. McAuliffe told Cox, “Get one of your guns up the road and smash a tank; that may stop them.” Cox quickly jumped in a jeep hooked up to a gliderborne 57mm anti-tank gun. In the jeep was Battery B commander Capt. A.G. Gueymard, Pfc. Rogie Roberts, the gunner, and another crew member, the ammunition loader.

When they reached the road there was no time to find cover. A long column of British vehicles, including trucks loaded with ammunition and gasoline, was edging its way north; at the intersection of a road coming in from the west were two panzer tanks. One was already shooting up a British 40mm anti-aircraft unit nearby. Also on the north road was a band of Americans from the 327th Glider Infantry stubbornly firing a small 37mm gun at the tank. The tanks were preparing for a turkey shoot. A few hundred feet to the east was a fenced-in field, in which horses frantically raced back and forth, trying to escape this wanton violence now taking place between humans. One horse was hit.

Lt. Col. Cox’s group screeched to a stop, and as they jumped out, the ammunition handler panicked and ran off behind a building. Flattened into a nearby doorway right next to where the jeep stopped was a soldier unknown to the gun crew--a glider pilot working his way south--in the wrong place at the wrong time. The crew was short-handed and Cox yelled for help. The GP didn’t hesitate. He quickly assisted the three men in unhitching the gun and wheeling it around. As they started to set it up, somebody yelled at the GP to see if he could find them some ammo. He jumped up into the jeep and dug into the ammunition.

As they loaded the first shell, the tank’s gun swung around on them. They knew they were dead. The tank hit a house behind them, covering them with dust and debris. The make-shift airborne-troop carrier gun crew fired. The first shot hit the turret. Too high! Pfc. Roberts looked at the gunsight. It was set for distance—1,600 yards. He set it for the correct range: 200 yards! Fire. . . Bullseye! The tank is on fire. Another gun hit the second tank, which immediately pulled back.

There had been no time for Col. Cox’s improvised crew to set up the gun’s trails properly, and each time it fired it lunged back into Robert’s legs, finally breaking one of his kneecaps. Quickly, as the column again started to move, the crew packed up and moved on.

An AP news story by young war correspondent Walter Cronkite, representing the Combined American Press, appeared on 26 September 1944: “A make-shift crew. . . handling a U.S. gliderborne anti-tank gun which made a hasty emergency shot that knocked out a German tank was credited today with saving possibly hundreds of British and American soldiers. The crewmen were Lt. Col. X.B. Cox, San Angelo, Tex.; Capt. Adolph Gueymard, Baton Rouge, La., and Pfc. Rogie Roberts, Port Arthur, Tex.”

No one knew who the glider pilot was. There had not been time to find out.

Years later, former GP Thomas J. Berry attended a reunion of his old outfit, the 91st Squadron of the 439th Troop Carrier Group. The former Glider Officer of his squadron, John A. Neary, who had de-briefed F/O Berry upon his return from Holland was one of the few who knew about the incident in Veghel, and had always thought that Tom Berry should have received some recognition for his action. He asked Tom if he had made contact with any of the other participants. Somebody in the 101st would certainly remember. Tom said he had just never gotten around to it. But it started him wondering, and a few years later he bought Rendezvous With Destiny, A History of the 101st Airborne Division. The book had recorded the incident, and there were the names of the airborne members of the gun crew. No mention of a GP. It had been a long time ago; probably no one knew their helper had been a glider pilot.

A year later, in June of 1982, Tom’s curiosity got the best of him, and he called Col. X.B. Cox (Ret.) in San Angelo. Col. Cox immediately sent off a note to the former GP: “Words cannot express how much I enjoyed your phone call. It seems impossible that after so many years such a reunion could be possible. Thousands of times I have recalled the incident and most of the time, I have wondered who you were and what became of you.” Col. Cox promptly contacted Gueymard and Roberts.

Upon finding out who the “mystery man” was, Rogie Roberts wrote Tom a letter: “Yes, I remember you distinctly, and I knew you were a Glider Pilot. I have thought about you many times since then and often wondered what would have happened if you had not been there. The man who should have been unloading the ammunition was behind the house. I don’t blame him. I was scared, too.”

In a response to Col. Cox, Tom wrote in much the same tone. He confessed that he had only told a few people of the incident: “My wife just found out about it, when your letter arrived.” See photo.

To Rogie Roberts: “I surely do not know how you people knew it was a glider pilot who became one of the crew. But I know I was sure slinging ammo around in that jeep looking for an armor-piercing round. If you were scared you sure didn’t show it. At least I don’t think you were as scared as I was.

“After the tank was knocked out—Thank You—you people seemed to pack up and leave. I assumed you had business elsewhere. After that I resumed my trek back to Brussels. Our instructions were to make our way back after landing. I had landed up at Groesbeek with the 82nd Airborne on D-Day and was just working my way south when this affair took place.”