The Royal Air Force and Airborne Operations, Normandy to Varsity, 1944-45

The RAF's role in the delivery of airborne forces during the Normandy landings, in Operation Market Garden and in Operation Varsity

Reference: Airborne Operations D-Day Brief

This paper surveys the role of the Royal Air Force in the three major airborne operations mounted in support of the Allied campaign to liberate Northwest Europe in 1944 and 1945 - the airborne dimension of Operation Neptune in Normandy, Operation Market in The Netherlands and Operation Varsity, the Rhine crossing staged in March 1945. Over time, historians have tended to view the Normandy and Arnhem operations in isolation. The airborne missions in Normandy are typically addressed as part of the wider story of Operation Neptune, while much of the published literature on Market implies that airborne warfare started and finished in September 1944.[1] When the two operations are linked, it is often via the simplistic notions of airborne victory in Normandy and airborne defeat in The Netherlands, implying doctrinal regression in the intervening period and a failure to apply the key lessons that Normandy bequeathed. Varsity is then represented as a corrective that successfully addressed the many and varied planning failures responsible for the Allied defeat at Arnhem.[2]

While this depiction is valid in certain respects, it is deeply flawed in others. The perception of airborne victory in Normandy is based primarily on the more general success of Allied operations, while very different and much narrower criteria tend to be employed where Market is concerned. It is easily forgotten that the Allies depended far more heavily on the airborne at Arnhem than they did in Neptune, and that victory required an entirely unprecedented level of airborne mission success. Subsequently, in Varsity as in Normandy, the airborne assault was a component part of a broader operation but was not, ultimately, the decisive factor in the Rhine crossing plan. In short, in all three cases, there is a need to assess the airborne role in its correct historical context if it is to be properly understood. 

This is very much the aim of the following analysis. The success or failure of each combined operation is not the issue. Rather, the central question concerns the outcome of the airborne missions and the role of the RAF in the development of airborne warfare during the Northwest Europe campaign. The RAF's contribution is addressed in relation to the basic Allied airborne operational concept, the many and varied challenges that it generated, and doctrinal development during 1944 and 1945. The key air lessons gathered from one operation to the next are also assessed, together with their subsequent impact on planning. Via this approach, it is possible to establish a number of clear continuities in the story of the RAF's association with the airborne medium, extending from the Allies' first large-scale use of airborne forces through to the end of hostilities. Yet this evolving relationship was complex, to say the least, and does not readily align with the generally accepted view of a regressive failure in Market that was subsequently corrected in Varsity. 

There is a vast literature dealing with the history of the airborne forces, and with airborne operations in the Second World War. Yet so much has been published that it is, perhaps, all too easy to lose touch with some of the fundamentals of the subject, not least the elementary question of why airborne forces should have been needed at all. Yet this is directly relevant to the first of the three operations with which this study is concerned. While a number of arguments were advanced, there was one basic contention that effectively decided the issue in Britain. Sooner or later, it would be necessary to open a second front with Germany. Allied forces would have to attack heavily defended beaches to secure a foothold on mainland Europe. In such circumstances, it would obviously be very useful if airborne forces could be dropped behind the enemy's coastal defences in support of the amphibious landings.[3]

The case appeared unanswerable, and so it was that two airborne divisions - 1st and 6th Airborne - were generated to fulfil this very specific purpose. In the process, airborne operations were effectively subordinated to amphibious operations and amphibious landing doctrine, which, in the British case, espoused the concept of the dawn assault, exploiting surprise rather than the long-term softening up that characterised American operations in the Pacific. But, if the amphibious forces hit the beach at daybreak, what were the implications for the airborne? Clearly, they would need time to secure their objectives before the beach assault began, which meant landing several hours before dawn, during the hours of darkness. This was in marked contrast to German airborne doctrine, which was firmly based on the principle of the daylight airlift; night-time landings were deemed too difficult and hazardous. 

Operations in North Africa at the end of 1942 offered only limited scope to test the concept, so it was not until Operation Husky, the landings in Sicily in the following year, that the Allies were compelled to confront the extreme complexity of the task that they had taken on. Only then, in the most brutal circumstances imaginable, did they begin to comprehend the exceptional challenges involved in executing accurate airlifts in darkness, after a long approach over water, in live operational conditions. In Husky, the simple truth is that the Allies saddled themselves with an airborne delivery plan that lay far beyond the capabilities of their aircrew, or indeed the aircrew of any air force then in existence.[4]

US Waco gliders were towed by RAF tugs
in Operation Husky 

Many of the gliders crashed or landed in the sea

Predictably enough, Husky was followed by a veritable outpouring of airborne lessons and doctrine papers.[5] Many different issues were considered, but there was a particularly strong focus on the airlift. It was accepted that air issues had to be addressed with far greater care in future airborne operations, with much more influence being given to the theatre air commander. It had to be recognised that successful lifts and landings were weather dependent; the high command had therefore to rule on whether airborne missions were essential to the success of broader ventures, such as amphibious operations. If essential, these other operations might have to be delayed until weather conditions were suitable for the airlift.[6] Aircrew training, especially in night navigation, required far greater attention: ‘Aircrews participating must therefore be trained to an operational standard. In particular, pilots require intensive training in low flying, navigation over sea, and in judging distances by moonlight. All the aircraft crews must have some preliminary operational experience ...’[7]

The post-Husky post-mortem was thus very thorough. But it was one thing to write lessons and doctrine papers; implementing key findings and recommendations was never likely to be so straightforward. How far, then, was it possible to exploit the lessons of Sicily in Operation Neptune, the opening phase of Operation Overlord, in Normandy in 1944? 

The air command, control and planning provisions established for Normandy were unquestionably superior to the fragmented machinery employed before the Sicilian landings. Responsibility for the airlifts into Normandy was placed under the Air Commander-in-Chief, Air Chief Marshal Sir Trafford Leigh-Mallory. A so-called Airborne Air Planning Committee was created to co-ordinate the airlift with other parts of the plan and, at divisional level, for the British operation, 38 Group and 6th Airborne Division set up a joint headquarters to ensure the closest possible collaboration.[8]

Leigh-Mallory with Montgomery in Normandy

Yet a fundamental problem remained: the Normandy airborne operation, like Husky, would not be treated as an operation in its own right. Rather, both the airborne mission and the accompanying airlift would be moulded and shaped around the amphibious landings in a manner that lay largely beyond the Air Commander's control. Leigh-Mallory's well known dislike of the American airborne plan provides one obvious illustration. Despite his misgivings, he was compelled to accept the plan in deference to the requirements of land commanders such as Montgomery and Bradley, and he had later to accommodate wholesale revisions to their requirements only a few days before D-Day. His concerns proved only too well founded: the American landings were both inaccurate and widely dispersed.[9]

101st Airborne Division's parachute landings in Normandy; more than 30 sticks
dropped outside the area of the map

In the British sector, the task facing 6th Airborne Division was to establish a bridgehead on the eastern bank of the Orne River, and subsequently to extend the eastern flank of the Allied assault area outwards to the River Dives. The airlift task was expected to be reasonably straightforward where the central and southern drop zones, N and K, were concerned. The obvious exception was the coup de main at Pegasus Bridge, but intensive mission-specific preparation involving 43 rehearsals ultimately allowed this vital mission to be executed successfully.[10]

6th Airborne Division area of operations, drop zones and
landing zones

Period map showing the topography of the area around
DZ V (DZ is marked 'V', battery is marked 'B')

The landings at the northern drop zone, DZ V, posed far greater problems. Here, the task was to neutralise the Merville Battery - a major threat to Sword beach. For the airborne, this was a particularly awkward target, as it lay so close to the sea. The commander of 6th Airborne Division insisted that he needed a drop zone no more than two miles from the battery. To the north was the sea; to the west lay the Caen Canal and Orne River; south of the battery, the terrain was wooded and undulating. The only flatter and more open country lay to the east, but it was immediately adjacent to the River Dives valley, which had been flooded by the Germans and therefore posed a lethal threat to the heavily laden British and Canadian paratroops. Nevertheless, as there was no feasible alternative, it was in this area that DZ V was located.[11]

Oblique image of the Merville Battery under construction

A direct route from England to the drop zones would have taken the troop carriers over the Allied invasion fleet. As Husky had shown, naval vessels were unable to distinguish between friendly and hostile aircraft at night, so there was a serious danger that Allied shipping might open fire on the overflying troop carriers and glider combinations.[12] It was thus necessary to route the airborne armada further to the east, in the direction of Le Havre, where there were strong German anti-aircraft defences. To avoid Le Havre, and to cross the Normandy coast at the correct location, the RAF transports would now have to effect a sharp turn over water, in darkness, before making their final approach from the north-east.[13] Such manoeuvres had caused considerable navigational problems during Husky, and the outline of the Normandy coast would offer little assistance to the aircrew. The coastline between the Orne and Dives estuaries is flat and featureless and, while the ports of Cabourg and Ouistreham are distinctive topographical features, they are also quite similar in appearance.[14]

Air routing from the UK, showing the night-time turn over water to
avoid over-flight of the Allied fleet and the Le Havre flak area

D-Day planning map, showing the 6th Airborne Division fly-in
and illustrating the proximity of the flooded area to DZ V

If the aircraft were still on course when they reached the coast, the pilots charged with finding DZ V would have seconds to do so. To improve their chances, the Allies expended a considerable effort on raising the standard of air navigation during the first half of 1944. The Pathfinder system was introduced to aid the location of landing areas at night.[15] But the task of improving aircrew proficiency was massively complicated by the immense scale of the Normandy operation. This necessitated an extremely rapid expansion of the air transport fleet and a sharp acceleration of aircrew training. The inevitable result was that many undertrained and inexperienced personnel were committed to battle on D-Day.[16] In the British case, the division of tasking between the various drop zones was such that it was necessary to assign the DZ V parachute drop to 46 Group, which had only been formed in March.[17] The majority of 46 Group aircrew lacked the experience of their 38 Group counterparts, which included familiarity with the Normandy coast derived from Special Duties missions.[18]

Pathfinders, tasked with marking the DZ but given
very little time to fulfil their mission

46 Group Dakotas

Then, finally, there was the weather issue. The Allied high command might ostensibly have accepted that the airborne lift was weather dependent, but Eisenhower's concerns lay elsewhere during the approach to D-Day. His ultimate decision to launch the operation was based overwhelmingly on maritime rather than air considerations.[19] The wind was too high for parachute drops, and visibility conditions over the American sector in Normandy were also unfavourable.[20]

The Normandy airborne operations achieved partial mission success, a higher proportion of objectives being secured in the British than the American sector because of the greater accuracy of the British airlift. The British achievement was capped by the outstandingly successful seizure of Pegasus Bridge, and the main airlift was sufficiently accurate to ensure the capture of the Ranville area and the prompt relief of the coup-de-main force.

The brilliantly successful landings at Pegasus Bridge were the
result of some 43 mission-specific rehearsals

Yet this still left the bridgehead far smaller than expected, and any hope of pushing the eastern flank out to the Dives had to be abandoned. This was partly because the original plans were probably too ambitious and partly because the Germans reacted more rapidly and in greater strength than the Allies expected, but a further significant reason is that the airlifts to the two outlying drop zones were very much less accurate than the Ranville lift.

In order to protect the security of the Pegasus Bridge operation, British airborne planners decided to reduce the time allotted to the pathfinders to the barest minimum – 30 minutes.[21] In the south, in the rush to set up their signals, one of the DZ K pathfinder teams failed to observe that they had mistakenly been dropped at DZ N (Ranville), and many paratroops destined for DZ K therefore landed in the Ranville area too. To the north, at DZ V, the only pathfinder equipment to survive the landings intact could not be recovered and set up before the main lift arrived. As they neared the coast, the 46 Group Dakotas drew AAA fire both from the invasion fleet and the Germans, which dispersed their formations; approaching from the northeast, some crews mistook the Dives estuary at Cabourg for the Orne Estuary at Ouistreham, and crossed the coast too far east. Others, having arrived over the correct area, found the DZ partially obscured by smoke and dust from a bombing raid on the Merville Battery, and were unable to detect such pathfinder aids as were functioning.[22]

Post-operation plot and comment on the DZ V landings 

In no time at all, they were past the DZ. A number then turned back in search of their objective, flying across the main stream of troop carriers and adding to the confusion. The majority of paratroops dropped wide of DZ V, and others were blown southeast by the strong northwest wind. There is still no agreement over the number of casualties incurred in the drop, but it is clear that there were significant losses in the flooded area.[23] Of 700 personnel originally assigned to the attack on the Merville Battery, only 150 could actually be assembled; this proved sufficient to capture the battery, but not to hold it. The supporting glider landings also failed, leaving the Merville operation to be executed without sappers or their specialised equipment.[24] In their absence, the guns could not be placed completely out of commission, and the Germans were able to repair them after they reoccupied the battery. Moreover, the Germans retained their hold on the coast between the Orne and the Dives for the remainder of the Normandy campaign. They only withdrew in the middle of August.[25]

The theory and the reality of the British
airborne operation

Typically, if we think of the Normandy airborne missions at all, we tend to think of Pegasus Bridge and the wider Ranville area. And yet we must recognise that this represents only part of the airborne story. In the British sector, the landings at DZ K went badly wrong while the DZ V mission was a disastrous failure; in the American sector, the outcome of the airlift was similarly disappointing, with the result that many airborne objectives were not achieved, or were only secured with the support of troops from the landing beaches. Casualties were inevitably high. Although the Allies had devoted extensive efforts to improving the accuracy of airborne lifts after Sicily, many of the failures of Operation Husky were, in fact, replicated in Normandy. Once again, the RAF and the USAAF sought to ensure that appropriate lessons were identified and exploited.

Yet if Normandy demonstrated the extreme difficulties involved in mounting accurate and concentrated airborne landings, it also offered a solution. Operation Mallard, the British glider lift on the evening of D-Day, reached Normandy before nightfall and achieved a degree of accuracy far beyond anything previously witnessed by either the Allies or the Germans.[26] This, in turn, dramatically reduced the time involved in the assembly and deployment of 6 Air Landing Brigade. Up to this point, the Allied airborne forces had effectively been tied to night operations by their use in support of dawn amphibious landings, but the amphibious phase of Overlord had now been completed. Potentially, therefore, the airborne would have more freedom to choose whether they operated by night or day. The RAF retained the view that, given a sufficiently high level of training, accurate night operations might still be possible. However, for the Americans, the arguments favouring daylight airlifts now appeared overwhelming, assuming the availability of supporting air power to provide fighter escorts and flak suppression.[27]

The daylight fly-in for Operation Mallard

Staged in daylight, Operation Mallard achieved an
unprecedented degree of accuracy

How, then, were the airborne to be used after D-Day? The British had held one of their two divisions, 1st Airborne, in reserve for follow-up missions. The basic idea was that they would be deployed at short notice to sustain the Allied ground advance through France and towards Germany. Potentially, Allied forces might be stalled by an enemy defensive line or major water obstacle. If so, vertical envelopment might provide a means to unhinge the German defences, allowing the advance to resume.[28] Broadly the same approach had been applied by the Allies in North Africa late in 1942. It had proved difficult then, with the major losers being the British 2nd Parachute Battalion under its new Commanding Officer, Lieutenant Colonel John Frost.[29] It would prove no easier in the summer of 1944. 

One particular problem was that airborne operations took time to plan. Especially time-consuming was the loading plan - matching the available airlift to specific units and cargoes. To save time, 1st Airborne Division constructed a standard loading plan that could be used in support of any operation on a one-size-fits-all basis. It could be described as 'lift plan heavy', based as it was on the entire division, including much of the divisional command and support infrastructure.[30] It envisaged what was primarily a glider operation rather than a parachute landing, and the loading requirement expanded over the summer to reach the equivalent of around 600 assault gliders, whereas the RAF possessed fewer than 400 tugs. Hence, two lifts would be required, and it would be essential to use troops from the first lift to defend the landing areas, pending the arrival of the second. Not one of 1st Airborne's three brigades would be conveyed in its entirety by the first lift.[31]

In the context of a short-distance cross-channel operation against weak opposition, there might be no great objection to this approach. However, in a deeper operation, closer to the German heartland, it appears far more hazardous. Potentially, there would be a longer delay between the two lifts because of the greater distance involved, and enemy forces would have more time to react before the second lift arrived. The troops deployed by the first lift would be dangerously exposed. Arguably, 1st Airborne Division's loading plan was not sufficiently mission-focused. In an airborne operation, the mission is not to deploy a particular number of personnel, nor is it to hold drop zones. Rather, it is to capture such tactical or operational objectives as have been specified as quickly as possible. In conjunction with 'lift plan heavy', it would have made sense to develop 'lift plan light', based on brigades rather than the division. There was sufficient capacity for two complete brigades, and all their equipment, to be carried in a single lift. Unencumbered by the DZ defence task, both brigades so lifted could have been dispatched immediately to execute their primary missions.

Attempts to use the airborne in support of operations in Northern France came to nothing; throughout the summer, successive plans were proposed and then cancelled. During this period, the Allies sought to unify the airborne forces by creating First Allied Airborne Army, under the command of Lieutenant General Lewis Brereton, comprising the British and American airborne divisions, RAF and USAAF troop carrier and glider forces, and other elements such as the Polish Parachute Brigade.

Brereton, commander of First Allied
Airborne Army

It was agreed that, in future operations, the RAF would be used almost entirely for the British glider lift; US troop carriers would convey the British parachute brigades as well as their own. In late August, after the breakout from Normandy, First Allied Airborne Army was allocated to the support of Montgomery's 21st Army Group. The first operation subsequently planned was named 'Linnet', and targeted the French/Belgian border not far from the channel; Linnet would have involved all the forces that later participated in Market; it was an operation of mass rather than depth. The lift plan envisaged three daytime lifts: two large-scale lifts, with double-tow for the American gliders, would be mounted at dawn and late in the afternoon of the first day, while a third and smaller lift would be flown on the morning of the second day. All three lifts would be completed in around 24 hours from H-Hour - the time at which the first airborne troops were actually landed.[32]

Double-tow: an essential part of the Operation
Linnet airlift plan

Linnet was delayed by the weather and then cancelled after Allied ground troops overran the drop zones. Airborne planning then shifted to the first operation to target Arnhem and Nijmegen, Operation Comet, drawn up early in September. The plan involved only 1st Airborne Division and the Poles - depth but not mass. Their tasking extended across a huge area immediately adjacent to the German frontier, and encompassed a multiplicity of tactical objectives. It is highly unlikely that Comet would have succeeded. Two daylight airlifts were to be flown at either end of the day.[33] This was problematic, to say the least, as the objectives lay so far inland. Having reached the Dutch coast, the Allied transport aircraft faced a transit across an area of some 90 miles of German-occupied territory, where there was abundant enemy AAA and a functional radar-based integrated air defence system. By contrast, Allied radar coverage did not extend to Arnhem and Nijmegen. So escort fighters were assigned to the air transport formations in considerable numbers, as well as barrier patrols, and extensive counter-flak operations were planned by both the RAF and USAAF.[34]

Evasive routing was another essential feature of the airlift to guide the vulnerable troop carriers, tugs and gliders around known flak concentrations and away from roads where mobile flak might have been deployed. The route selected was somewhat to the south of Arnhem, and required a sharp northeast turn after ‘s Hertogenbosch.[35] However, from this point, a final approach towards central Arnhem would have passed directly over the flak defences of both Nijmegen and Arnhem itself.[36] The Allied transport aircraft would have been flying low and slow, straight and level. In the face of flak, there was the potential for very heavy losses.

Evasive routing: the Comet airlift routed the airlift
around known German flak concentrations

Routing over Arnhem (the dashed line) would have involved
overflight of the Arnhem and Nijmegen flak defences

This factor provided part of the basis for the RAF's contention that the drop zones and landing zones should be located outside Arnhem, but flak was not the only consideration in this respect. It also transpired that the apparently open country south of the town was in fact poorly suited to large-scale glider landings, being typical Dutch polder-land intersected by hundreds of drainage ditches. After the innumerable difficulties encountered in Normandy and Sicily, it was impossible to contemplate a major glider landing in such extensively subdivided country.[37]

The country south of Arnhem was polder, intersected
by hundreds of drainage ditches

The arguments against landing near the Arnhem road bridge were accepted by Lieutenant General FAM 'Boy' Browning (Deputy Allied Airborne Commander and British Airborne Corps Commander) and the closest possible alternative was chosen, near Wolfheze, seven miles to the northwest.[38] The commander of 38 Group, Air Vice-Marshal Leslie Hollinghurst, remained unhappy. He disagreed with the entire concept of staging an airborne operation against such deep objectives in broad daylight and retained his belief that high casualties were likely. Leigh-Mallory nevertheless decided that the operation should proceed.[39]

One-size-fits-all planning: glider manifest for Operation
Linnet (cancelled), Comet (cancelled) and Market

Comet was, like Linnet, delayed by the weather and then cancelled. It was cancelled due to intelligence suggesting a stronger German presence in the prospective battle zone than originally expected, including Enigma decrypts reporting that 2 SS Panzer Corps (9 and 10 SS Panzer Division) had been sent to the Arnhem area to rest and refit. On the morning of 10 September, Montgomery met Browning and Lieutenant General Sir Miles Dempsey, commander of Second (British) Army, to discuss the future of the plan.[40] Quite apart from the threat now posed by the two SS Panzer Divisions, Browning and Dempsey were well aware of the drop zone problem at Arnhem by this time, and it is very likely that Montgomery was too.[41] One solution might have been to switch the operation to another Rhine crossing point, but Montgomery was determined to retain Arnhem as the objective.[42]

So Browning proposed the merger of Linnet and Comet, using the three divisions assigned to Linnet and the Linnet airlift plan, but the Comet objectives - mass and depth combined.[43] Montgomery enthusiastically embraced the scheme and secured Eisenhower's approval later the same day. At this stage, there was no consultation with any of the other major stakeholders at Airborne Headquarters in England. Lieutenant General Brereton, the American airborne divisions and the Allied air forces all remained blissfully ignorant of the events that were unfolding in Belgium. They only found out when Browning returned to the UK, revealed the enlarged Arnhem plan, and announced that it had already received Eisenhower's authorisation.[44]

The airborne part of plan was soon to be named Market, although it is better known by the combined airborne and land operation name Market Garden. It quickly began to unravel. Consider the basic concept. Market relied on the RAF and the USAAF to fly 35,000 troops and huge quantities of equipment around 300 miles, across different command, communication and weather zones, deep into enemy-occupied territory and right up to the German frontier. And yet, despite the plan's critical dependence on the two air forces, neither had been approached in order to establish whether, in fact, the Linnet airlift could be recycled in the manner that Browning envisaged. Unfortunately, the three senior Army officers simply did not understand how the combination of mass and depth would impact on the plan. Arnhem and Nijmegen were just too far from the UK for such a massive multiple-lift operation to be viable; the Germans would be left with ample time to mobilise before the airborne build-up was completed.

The basic problem became clear at the very first planning meeting held at Airborne Headquarters after Browning's return to Britain. It was at this meeting that the USAAF troop carrier commander, Major General Paul Williams, pointed out that, given the extra range involved, it would be impossible to double-tow the American gliders - a technique central to the tight Linnet timetable.[45] The American glider deployment rate would therefore be halved.[46] Worse was to follow. Soon after the meeting broke up, Williams' staff concluded that their troop carrier force could not mount two lifts in one day at full strength within the hours of daylight, as the Linnet plan had proposed. This was again because of the greater distance involved and hence the increased transit time and the reduced turn-around time in the UK; moreover, fewer daylight hours would be available by mid-September, compared with late August, when Linnet was devised.[47]

They also feared that the proposed dawn take-off schedule would leave the operation vulnerable to weather disruption, a problem that had already contributed to the cancellation of Linnet and Comet. Consequently, instead of reducing the scale of the second lift to proportions that could be managed within the Linnet timetable (but potentially drawing out the airlift across several more smaller lifts), they proposed mounting one full strength lift per day in the middle hours of the day, when weather and visibility were likely to be most favourable. As planned, this would extend the airlift timetable from the H plus 24 hours envisaged for Linnet to H plus 46 hours.[48]

Hollinghurst was confident of the RAF's ability to execute two lifts at either end of the operation's first day - 17 September - but Williams insisted on the single lift plan. Events would prove him correct on weather grounds alone, as foggy conditions would have prevented a dawn take-off by 38 Group and 46 Group on the 17th.[49] But two lifts that day would have made little difference in any case. The fundamental problem was simply that the operational objectives were too deep, given the scale of airborne lift requirements and the number of aircraft available. It was for this reason that, earlier that month, Brereton had recommended deploying First Allied Airborne Army to the Continent before attempting an operation so far to the east, but there was no opportunity to implement this eminently sensible recommendation before Market was approved.[50]

Despite this, the airlift timetable has since become the subject of much criticism, but the greatest controversy where the Arnhem air plan is concerned surrounds the location of the landing areas. It was soon agreed that 1st Airborne Division would use basically the same DZs and LZs that had been selected for Operation Comet, suitably enlarged.

There was no alternative. Indeed, if anything, the arguments for landing at Wolfheze were now stronger. Allied intelligence, both Army and RAF, was reporting a considerable build-up of flak around Arnhem, and there were concerns that this was not mere coincidence.[51] Potentially, via some breach of operational security, it seemed possible that the Germans had got wind of the Allied plan, and that flak defences were being augmented specifically to counter the impending airborne assault.[52] Furthermore, whereas Comet had divided 1st Airborne's 600-gliders between Arnhem and Nijmegen, the entire lift would now target Arnhem, accentuating the need for large, open landing areas. Only the larger fields immediately west of Wolfheze satisfied this critical requirement, and only then by a narrow margin.[53]

Heavy anti-aircraft artillery batteries near Arnhem
and Nijmegen

Nevertheless, the fact remained that this plan, combined with the extended airlift timetable and 1st Airborne Division's pre-arranged loading scheme, would tie the British airborne to an extended DZ/LZ defence task at a location miles away from their key objective - the Arnhem road bridge. Around half the troops brought into Arnhem by the first lift would be used to hold the landing area. Out of five and a half battalions (and numerous divisional elements) brought into Arnhem on 17 September, only two would actually be sent to the bridge.[54]

The Arnhem landing areas near Wolfheze were the only
large and open fields available for the airborne assault

How successful was the air plan? On Market's first day, the RAF and USAAF between them prevented any interference by the Luftwaffe, and the combination of evasive routing and flak suppression kept aircraft losses to the absolute minimum. The airlift staged on 17 September was the most successful airborne deployment to be mounted by the Allies in the Second World War. The airborne were delivered with unprecedented accuracy to their DZs and LZs. The daytime lift allowed for more compressed landings and, for the airborne troops, assembly and unloading, at full strength, in a fraction of the time required in Normandy on the night of 5/6 June. Although slightly delayed and subjected to more enemy interference, the second lift was also very successful. Thereafter, the weather turned decisively against the Allies, causing the third lift to be spread out over several days and impacting adversely upon air operations in a variety of other ways, too, but the weather would also have interfered with any notional alternative airlift timetable. The Market schedule did at least provide for the first two lifts to be completed broadly according to plan.[55]

The success of the first two Market lifts is worth stressing, as its true significance is ignored in virtually all histories of the operation. Control of the air allowed the Allies to stage the airlifts in daylight; the daylight lifts ensured accuracy; accuracy, more than anything else, led to the rapid and complete assembly of airborne troops and equipment on the ground. This, in turn, allowed the majority of airborne units to secure their tactical objectives; the proportion of airborne tactical objectives captured was significantly higher than in Normandy.[56] It was primarily for this reason that Market came so close to success. The problem was that the plan required all airborne tactical objectives to be captured; even a very limited degree of mission failure could jeopardise the entire undertaking. 

In no previous large-scale airborne operation had 100 per cent tactical mission success been achieved - or anything like it. Why should Allied commanders like Montgomery and Browning have believed that such a feat might now be possible? The basic fact is that they vastly underestimated the speed and scale of the German response to the initial airborne landings. As we have noted, Allied intelligence had located 2 SS Panzer Corps in the Arnhem area early in September 1944, but its component divisions were known to have suffered heavy losses in Normandy and during the subsequent retreat; they had very few tanks, and it seemed unlikely that they would present a significant threat once Operation Comet was enlarged into Market. Of 2 SS Panzer Corps, Montgomery later wrote: 'We knew it was there. But we were wrong in supposing that it could not fight effectively. Its battle state was far beyond our expectations.'[57] In other respects, too, Allied intelligence assessments proved too optimistic. Following the initial landings on 17 September, the Germans succeeded in mobilising many more troops than expected in the key Arnhem and Nijmegen sectors with remarkable speed. Organised into ad hoc battle-groups, they were rapidly deployed against the airborne, giving the Germans a numerical advantage that fatally undermined some of the most elementary assumptions underpinning the Market concept.[58]

From 19 September, the main effort of both 38 Group and 46 Group was switched to resupply at Arnhem. The location of the resupply drop zones reflected the expectation that 1st Airborne Division would take up positions not only at the road bridge but also on a long perimeter line all around Northern Arnhem, before major German counter-attacks began. Instead, the drop zones were soon largely overrun and ringed with flak; British resupply plans and ground-to-air signals equipment quickly fell into German hands. The results are well known. The majority of the 55 aircraft lost by 38 Group and 46 Group during Market fell victim to flak on resupply missions, including the Dakota flown by Flight Lieutenant David Lord, who was posthumously awarded a Victoria Cross. Not a single aircraft from the two groups emerged from the operation entirely unscathed. Most of the supplies fell straight into German hands or landed in areas that were beyond the reach of 1st Airborne.[59]

One of the RAF Stirlings of 38 Group that did not return from Arnhem:
the aircraft crashed through the hedge at the bottom of the photo

The worst day of all was 21 September, when a supply mission was launched without escort fighters, which had been grounded by the weather, and the transports were intercepted by the Luftwaffe. In total, 23 aircraft were shot down and 61 more sustained damage.[60] Out of ten aircraft dispatched by 190 Squadron, only three returned. By this time, the justification for continuing these futile missions was being challenged, and there was no resupply on the 22nd, ostensibly because of the weather. The last mission of any scale was flown on the 23rd; again, only a tiny fraction of the supplies actually reached 1st Airborne Division.[61]

Flight Lieutenant David Lord, VC

Most of the major lessons identified after Market's failure were meticulously applied by the Allies during the preparations for Operation Varsity, the following March. The single, cardinal failure in Market lay in the area of command and control. It should never have been possible for Montgomery, Dempsey and Browning to devise the operation in isolation and secure Eisenhower's approval for their plans without consulting the other key stakeholders within First Allied Airborne Army. Montgomery had little knowledge or understanding of airborne operations, and was totally dependent on Browning for advice; and yet Browning had never actually led airborne troops into battle, and his grasp of the air dimension was limited in the extreme. He was, after all, a Guardsman, with absolutely no professional expertise in air matters. In Varsity, by contrast, command and control was more effectively integrated, with senior land, airborne and air commanders being intimately involved in the planning process from the very beginning.[62]

Air Marshal Coningham, of Second Tactical Air Force,
worked closely with Brereton on the Varsity plan

Whereas Market Garden had been scrambled together at exceptionally short notice, a lead time of several months provided ample scope for most aspects of the Varsity plan to be subjected to detailed scrutiny and deliberation.[63] The airborne plan was far less ambitious than the Arnhem plan: the objectives lay only a short distance across the Rhine, and the landings were not, in any case, scheduled to commence until the first river crossings had been successfully completed by British ground forces - Dempsey's Second Army - under the auspices of Operation Plunder.[64] Finally, a highly detailed intelligence assessment of the strength and dispositions of German forces in the area was prepared before the operation was launched.[65]

The Varsity landing areas lay just to the east of the Rhine

Beyond this, the difference between the challenge that confronted the RAF at Arnhem and the task they faced in Varsity could hardly have been more pronounced. Although the bulk of the US 9th Troop Carrier Command deployed into France for Varsity, 38 Group and 46 Group remained in the UK, but they were moved to airfields in East Anglia to reduce distance and transit time to the minimum. Their routing followed the shortest possible course across the channel, and virtually the entire flight took place within friendly skies. They had only to make the briefest of incursions into hostile airspace before releasing their gliders into a largely rural area of Germany and turning for home.

The main problem facing the Allied air forces lay in implementing one of the other key lessons of Market, namely that airborne operations should be mounted via a single airlift. Primarily, this meant reducing the demands of the airborne divisions to sensible levels, but some enlargement of the air transport fleet was also necessary, at a time when aircraft and manpower resources were being stretched to the limit.[66] Ultimately, the two RAF groups were raised to a combined total of 440 aircraft - about 60 more than they had possessed at Arnhem.[67]

The air routing for Operation Varsity

How successful was the RAF mission in Operation Varsity? Some 35 gliders did not reach the release point due mainly to slipstream problems and broken tow-ropes - familiar hazards in longer-distance operations. Others were released at too high an altitude, their tugs having been forced higher up for flight safety reasons in the congested airspace over the Rhine; this certainly complicated the landing task.

Congested airspace: inbound glider combinations
above outbound troop carriers

But the vast majority of gliders were cast off at the correct location and altitude.[68] The landings nevertheless went badly wrong; indeed, they were something of a failure by comparison with the main British glider missions in Normandy and The Netherlands. In seeking to exploit the lessons of Arnhem, the Allies neglected the lessons identified after Sicily and repeated the mistake made in the Merville Battery assault in Normandy: they subordinated all other considerations to the requirement for landing areas that were close to the objective.[69] Moreover, before Varsity was launched, there was insufficiently detailed consultation between First Allied Airborne Army and Second Army. Consequently, between them, they failed to spot one aspect of the Second Army Rhine crossing plan that very obviously had the potential to jeopardise the success of the airborne operation. 

To shield their preparations for the river crossing from German eyes, Second Army generated possibly the largest smoke screen in history; it was maintained for no fewer than nine days over a front of more than 50 miles. One airborne lesson recorded after Operation Husky had been that DZs and LZs should be sited to ensure that they were not obscured by smoke or fires on the ground,[70] but this eminently sensible recommendation had apparently been forgotten by March 1945. Had the airborne operation been commanded by a British officer such as Browning, who had worked closely with Second Army in the past, the smoke screen might possibly have been identified as a hazard.[71] But Browning had been removed from his post after Market, leaving Varsity to be commanded by an American, Lieutenant General Matthew Ridgeway.[72] It may be that Ridgeway did not maintain a comparable working relationship with Second Army's senior staff.

Second Army smoke canisters before Operation Varsity

Even then, the consequences might not have been quite so serious without another factor - an unfortunate intervention by the commander of the Glider Pilot Regiment, Brigadier George Chatterton. Chatterton was a key personality within the Allied airborne community and had played a vital role in the creation and expansion of the British assault glider force. Of particular note was his role in training the aircrew who so brilliantly executed the Pegasus Bridge landing on D-Day.[73] But, in Varsity, Chatterton made a fundamental mistake. He concocted a plan for landing 6th Airborne Division's gliders in relatively small tactical groups immediately adjacent to the objectives of the personnel they were carrying.[74] This was completely at odds with past experience, which had demonstrated the advantages in terms of air navigation that accrued from the use of a small number of large and easily visible LZs.[75]

Chatterton's scheme would have taxed the aircrew who landed so successfully in Normandy and at Arnhem, but much of the Glider Pilot Regiment had not returned from Arnhem. Therefore, at minimal notice, it had had to be reconstituted using such manpower resources as were available - chiefly aircrew from the RAF reserve pool. These new recruits were then given the standard glider pilot refresher course (having never received the basic training) and some rudimentary infantry instruction.[76] With such obviously 'green' pilots making up a high proportion of his force, Chatterton should have observed that most elementary planning principle - keep it simple. Instead, with the best of intentions, he needlessly complicated an already very difficult task.

British gliders crossing the Rhine to find their
objectives shrouded by smoke

During the final approach to the Rhine, visibility remained at least adequate for the gliders and their tugs. But the country to the east of the river, where the release point and the LZs were located, was substantially obscured by Second Army's smoke screen, and by smoke and dust generated by the 4,000-gun artillery barrage and the ongoing battle.[77] After cast-off, descending through the dense smoke, the pilots circled and tried to pick out their assigned landing points, only to be confronted by a murderous hail of anti-aircraft and small-arms fire from the Germans. In no time, the tactical plan disintegrated, leaving the British glider force to be dispersed over a large area. Many gliders fell victim to the German gunners or crash-landed, and others were raked with fire as soon as they touched down.[78]

The majority of glider-borne cargoes were destroyed or damaged or could not be recovered and deployed in battle, and 27 per cent of the glider pilots became casualties. The casualty rate sustained by 6 Air Landing Brigade in Operation Varsity totalled approximately 40 per cent, most of the losses being incurred during the actual landings;[79] the 2nd Oxfordshire and Buckinghamshire Light Infantry lost half their strength in a period of about 20 minutes.[80] After a recovery effort extending over several days, the final equipment losses included 46 per cent of 6th Airborne Division's jeeps, 44 per cent of their trailers, 44 per cent of their carriers, half their light tanks, 29 per cent of their 75mm Howitzers, half their 25 pounders, 56 per cent of their 17 pounder anti-tank guns, 29 per cent of their 6 pounder anti-tank guns and 56 per cent of their Dodge 3/4 ton weapon carriers.[81]

Some of the many gliders that crashed on landing
or succumbed to enemy fire soon afterwards

Luckily, the operational implications were not especially grave. The British paratroops landed far more accurately and the glider landings, ironically enough, received invaluable support from the many American paratroops who were dropped in error on the British LZs.[82] Moreover, although the intensity of the anti-aircraft fire substantially exceeded Allied expectations, German resistance quickly collapsed on the ground. Hence, most airborne objectives were soon secured and the vital link-up with Second Army was achieved without difficulty. Plunder-Varsity succeeded but it was, perhaps, something of a sledgehammer to crack a nut. There were obvious attempts in the subsequent after-action reports to play down the true extent of the British glider-landing debacle, and this exercise in sanitisation continues to colour historical assessments of Operation Varsity to this day.[83]

Conclusions

The RAF's experience across the three airborne operations addressed in this paper was clearly very mixed. In Normandy, the successes of the Ranville mission and Operation Mallard were marred by the disaster that occurred at DZ V. At Arnhem, the RAF made a vital contribution to the Allies' most successful airborne lift of the war, only to be confronted by a bitter and enduring critique of the air plan. In Varsity, the RAF again fulfilled their mission very creditably, but the glider landings were ruined by a series of elementary tactical planning failures.

Why should this story have been so complex and convoluted? How can the absence of more consistent development and advance, from one operation to the next, be explained? The initial problem lay with the post-Husky airborne lessons studies. They correctly identified many vital lessons but without questioning the basic concept of using airborne troops to support dawn amphibious landings. Yet many of the problems that arose during Husky actually stemmed from this concept. It was thus hardly surprising that identical difficulties should have been encountered in Normandy, given the obvious similarity between the two operations. Thereafter, the airborne concept was changed. However, in seeking to implement the revised approach in Operation Market Garden, Montgomery and Browning largely ignored earlier lessons, which had, among other things, emphasised the need for ample lead time, for integrated command and control and for prompt relief of the airborne troops by ground forces. Moreover, their plan imposed particularly narrow and exacting constraints on those subsequently responsible for planning at the tactical level.

Without prior consultation, the air forces were tasked with a lift that combined unprecedented scale and depth with a protracted daylight transit through hostile airspace to objectives only just short of the German border. Historians have tended to argue that there were several ways in which they might have discharged this formidable undertaking, ignoring or misrepresenting key planning considerations as well as the steadfast determination of both the RAF and the USAAF to avoid the mistakes of Sicily and Normandy. In truth, in the prevailing circumstances, there was no viable alternative to the approach that the Allied airmen adopted - an approach that finally yielded the accurate and concentrated landings that had eluded them in the past, substantially increasing the scope for the airborne forces to fulfil their missions.

Nevertheless, this achievement was overshadowed by the fact that, ultimately, Market Garden failed. Its aftermath duly witnessed another search for lessons, which correctly identified many features of the plan that might, ideally, have been different, but failed to capture the context within which some of the original planning decisions were taken. Particularly notable in this respect was the verdict that the Arnhem landing areas were too far from the road bridge. Superficially, the case might have appeared valid, but it was not accompanied by any careful consideration of the factors that led to the selection of the Wolfheze DZs and LZs - the intelligence on German flak and the requirement for large, firm and open fields capable of accommodating 600 assault gliders – and it did not identify any viable alternatives.

Arnhem public relations photo showing
approximately 80 gliders

Equivalent Varsity public relations photo
showing just seven gliders

And so, when Operation Varsity was planned, the need for landings close to the airborne objectives came to overshadow almost every other factor. Consequently, on 24 March 1945, British forces mounted their largest single glider landing of the war into LZs that were shrouded in thick, Allied-generated smoke and well protected by German anti-aircraft defences; moreover, this daunting assignment depended predominantly for its success on novice aircrew, who had received nothing more than a glider pilot's refresher course before becoming guinea pigs in Chatterton's doomed tactical landing experiment. The Market baby - the successful airlift - was ejected with the bath water, and the overriding importance subsequently attached to tactical requirements on the ground effectively placed the airborne cart in front of the air force horse. It was for this reason that the RAF's final large-scale airborne lift of the Second World War ended in another shambolic glider landing.

Plots showing the Arnhem and Varsity glider landings; the far greater accuracy
of the Arnhem landings is underlined by the fact that the Varsity plot only shows
approximately 280 of the 400 British gliders involved in the operation

Notes

[1]. Where Arnhem is concerned, this basic failure is common to Martin Middlebrook, Arnhem 1944: The Airborne Battle, 17-26 September (Penguin, London, 1995), Cornelius Ryan, A Bridge Too Far (Wordsworth Editions, Ware, 1999), Peter Harclerode, Arnhem: A Tragedy of Errors (Caxton Editions, London, 2000) and AD Harvey, Arnhem (Cassell, London, 2001), to name but a few. William Buckingham, Arnhem 1944 (Tempus, Stroud, 2004), considers earlier operations involving 1st Airborne Division but otherwise also avoids comparing or contrasting Market with previous airborne ventures.

[2]. Lloyd Clark, Arnhem: Jumping the Rhine 1944 and 1945 (Headline Review, London, 2009), pp. 281-282.

[3]. Air Publication (AP) 3231, The Second World War 1939-1945, Royal Air Force, Airborne Forces (Air Ministry official monograph, 1951), p. 48.

[4]. 38 Wing RAF Report on Training and Operations in North Africa and Sicily, May/July 1943 (held at Air Historical Branch - AHB); John C. Warren, Airborne Missions in the Mediterranean 1942-1945 (United States Air Force Historical Division Research Studies Institute, Air University, 1955), pp. 33-52; AP 3231, Airborne Forces, p. 90; Lieutenant-Colonel TBH Otway, Airborne Forces (War Office official monograph, 1951), pp. 120-127; Maurice Tugwell, Airborne to Battle: A History of Airborne Warfare (William Kimber, London, 1971), pp. 164-166.

[5]. These papers included Joint War Office/Air Ministry Report on the Employment of Airborne Forces; U.S. War Department Training Circular 113, 9 October 1943; un-numbered SHAEF memorandum dated 19 January 1944; and Combined Chiefs of Staff Paper 496. Copies of all can be found in Notes on the Planning and Preparation of the Allied Expeditionary Air Force for the Invasion of North West France in June 1944, Appendices (held at AHB). See also US Army Air Forces Board Project (T) 27, Long Range Study of Airborne Operations, 29 April 1944 (held at AHB).

[6]. Extract from Joint War Office/Air Ministry Report on the Employment of Airborne Forces, Part A, Lessons of Airborne Operations in Sicily, 27 November 1943, Notes on the Planning and Preparation of the Allied Expeditionary Air Force for the Invasion of North West France in June 1944, Appendices.

[7]. Ibid.

[8]. John C. Warren, Airborne Operations in World War II, European Theatre (United States Air Force Historical Division, Research Studies Institute, Air University, 1956), pp. 3, 6-9; AP 3231, Airborne Forces, p. 118.

[9]. Memorandum on the Employment of Airborne Forces in Operation Overlord, April 1944, Appendix V/8; notes of a conference held at SHAEF, 27 May 1944, Appendix V/45, Notes on the Planning and Preparation of the Allied Expeditionary Air Force for the Invasion of North West France in June 1944, Appendices.

[10]. Stephen Ambrose, Pegasus Bridge, D-Day: The Daring British Airborne Raid (Pocket Books, London, 2003), pp. 57-59.

[11]. TNA AIR 38/238, an Account of the Organisation, Training and Operations (and Lessons Learned) of 46 (Transport Support) Group, Royal Air Force, during the Invasion of Hitler’s Europe, prepared by Headquarters 46 Group.

[12]. The burden of identification was placed squarely upon the aircrew rather than the naval crew, effectively compelling the aircraft to route around naval forces at night: see COSSAC/2297/4/Ops, December 1943, Employment of Airborne Forces, Appendix V/24, Notes on the Planning and Preparation of the Allied Expeditionary Air Force for the Invasion of North West France in June 1944, Appendices.

[13]. For a map of the routing see AP 3231, Airborne Forces, p. 119.

[14]. On the difficulties of this routing, see TNA AIR 37/464, Wing Commander, Airborne Ops, to D/Chief of Ops, 20 April 1944.

[15]. AP 3231, Airborne Forces, pp. 96-97; Warren, Airborne Operations, p. 4; Otway, Airborne Forces, p. 131.

[16]. Warren, Airborne Operations, pp. 7-9, 18-20, 23, 24; Notes on the Planning and Preparation of the Allied Expeditionary Air Force for the Invasion of North West France in June 1944, by PS to Air C-in-C, AEAF (held at AHB), p. 310.

[17]. AP 3231, Airborne Forces, p. 108.

[18]. TNA AIR 37/464, Wing Commander D. Cattell to Chief of Ops, 1 May 1944.

[19]. Carlo D’Este, Decision in Normandy (Penguin, London, 2001), pp. 109-110.

[20]. The wind was gusting at up to 30 mph; see AP 3231, Airborne Forces, p. 125.

[21]. TNA AIR 37/772, AOC 38 Group to AOC 46 Group, 7 July 1944; Otway, Airborne Forces, p. 200.

[22]. AP 3231, Airborne Forces, pp. 125-128.

[23]. Subsequent correspondence includes TNA AIR 37/286, Wing Commander BA Coventry to OC RAF Broadwell, 18 June 1944; AOC 38 Group to Group Captain J. Bradbury, 24 June 1944; TNA AIR 37/772, AOC 38 Group to Group Captain RL Crofton, 24 June 1944.

[24]. Lloyd Clark, Orne Bridgehead (Sutton, Stroud, 2004), pp. 56-58.

[25]. Air Historical Branch, The Liberation of North West Europe Vol. 4, The Breakout and the Advance to the Lower Rhine, 12 June to 30 September 1944 (unpublished official narrative, first draft), p. 10; the position of the front line is most vividly illustrated in consecutive maps in John Man, The Penguin Atlas of D-Day and the Normandy Campaign (Viking, London, 1994).

[26]. AP 3231, Airborne Forces, p. 134.

[27]. Warren, Airborne Operations, p. 61.

[28]. AP 3231, Airborne Forces, p. 146; Extract from Joint War Office/Air Ministry Report on the Employment of Airborne Forces, Part B, Recommendations for Future Employment of Airborne Forces, Notes on the Planning and Preparation of the Allied Expeditionary Air Force for the Invasion of North West France in June 1944, Appendices.

[29]. Otway, Airborne Forces, pp. 78-81; Major-General John Frost, A Drop Too Many (Cassell, London, 1980), pp. 74-100.

[30]. TNA AIR 37/413 Browning to HQ 38 Group RAF, 22 May 44.

[31]. Major-General RE Urquhart, Arnhem (Pan, London, 1972), p. 217. Although it is widely supposed that the entirety of 1 Parachute Brigade arrived at Arnhem on Market Garden’s first day, 20 gliders were in fact allocated to the brigade in the second lift.

[32]. TNA AIR 37/509, No 11 Group Operation Instruction No 39/1944, 2 September 1944; memorandum entitled ‘Air Support, Operation Linnet’, Appendix B, 30 August 1944.

[33]. TNA AIR 37/979, 38 Group Operation Order 524, ‘Comet’, 6 September 1944.

[34]. Ibid.

[35]. Ibid.

[36]. For relevant mapping, see AIR 37/1214, Appendix D, Headquarters Troop Carrier Command Intelligence Trace No. 4 for Operation Market; the equivalent map for Operation Comet is contained in TNA WO 205/850.

[37]. TNA AIR 37/1214, Allied Airborne Operations in Holland, September-October 1944; Hollinghurst papers, RAF Museum, AC 73/23/49, comments on AHB monograph on the history of the airborne forces, p. 2; For the relevant terrain intelligence reports, see TNA WO 171/393, 1st Airborne Division War Diary, September 1944.

[38]. TNA CAB 44/253, p. 69.

[39]. TNA AIR 37/775, Hollinghurst to Leigh-Mallory, 6 September 1944.

[40]. TNA WO 285/9, Dempsey diary, 10 September 1944.

[41]. TNA CAB 44/253, p. 69.

[42]. TNA WO 285/9, Dempsey diary, 10 September 1944.

[43]. Ibid.

[44]. First Allied Airborne Army, Operations in Holland, September-November 1944, 16 December 1944 (held at AHB).

[45]. TNA WO 219/4998, minutes of a meeting called by Commanding General, First Allied Airborne Army, 10 September 1944.

[46]. TNA AIR 37/509, No 11 Group Operation Instruction No 39/1944, 2 September 1944; Warren, Airborne Operations, pp. 89, 226.

[47]. TNA WO 219/4998, memorandum by Lieutenant Colonel Thomas Bartley, 10 September 1944.

[48]. Ibid.

[49]. Stan Cornford and Squadron Leader Peter Davies, ‘Arnhem: The Weather,’ Air Clues, Vol. 48, No. 10 (October 1994), p. 396; TNA AIR 37/13, An Account of the Organisation, Training and Operations (and Lessons Learned) of 46 (Transport Support) Group, Royal Air Force, during the Invasion of Hitler’s Europe, p. 70.

[50]. TNA WO 219/2186, Brereton to Eisenhower, 1 September 1944; TNA WO 219/2121, memorandum by SHAEF planning staff, 4 September 1944. This memorandum set out the basic arguments Brereton submitted to Eisenhower on 1 September.

[51]. TNA WO 171/341, XXX Corps intelligence summary 494, 7 September 1944; TNA AIR 37/1217, Operation Market, 1st Airborne Division Planning Intelligence Summary No. 2, 14 September 1944, prepared by G2 (I); see also TNA AIR 37/1214, Appendix D, Headquarters Troop Carrier Command Intelligence Trace No. 4 for Operation Market.

[52]. TNA AIR 37/1217, Operation Market, 1st Airborne Division Planning Intelligence Summary No 2 dated 14 Sep 1944, prepared by G2 (I).

[53]. Report on the British Airborne Effort in Operation ‘Market’, by 38 and 46 Groups, RAF, 1 January 1945 (held at AHB).

[54]. The three battalions of 1 Parachute Brigade left the landing area, 2 and 3 Para having been assigned to the bridge, while 1 Para was to occupy positions in northern Arnhem. All the Air-Landing Brigade elements conveyed by the first lift remained in the DZ/LZ area, together with all Glider Pilot Regiment personnel, who were trained to fight as infantry.

[55]. For the best account of the airlifts, covering the whole operation, see Warren, Airborne Operations, Chapter 4. On the compression of the airlift, relative to the Normandy lifts, see p. 90.

[56]. Out of the multiplicity of crossings, only the bridges at Son and Nijmegen were not secured. By contrast, the British airborne lodgement area in Normandy was far smaller than originally planned. Of the various American missions, only one of the four causeways from Utah Beach was captured outright by 101st Airborne and they also failed to establish a firm northern perimeter line linking with 82nd Airborne, or to seal off southern flank of the Utah beachhead. Similarly, 82nd Airborne failed to establish adequate protection on their northern flank and were unable to capture the La Fière, Chef-du-Pont and Pont l’Abbé bridges. Much of the British and American airborne achievement was dependent on assistance or reinforcement by conventional ground troops advancing inland from beaches, whereas, in Market, the airborne were predominantly unsupported.

[57]. Montgomery, Memoirs, p. 297.

[58]. Airborne Operations: A German Appraisal, Office of the Chief of Military History, Department of the Army (US Army Foreign Military Studies Series, 1950), pp. 54-55; Kershaw, It Never Snows in September (Ian Allen, Hersham, 2004), pp. 108-112, 119-120.

[59]. Warren, Airborne Operations, p. 132.

[60]. Ibid., pp. 133-144.

[61]. Arie-Jan Van Hees, Green On! A Detailed Survey of the British Parachute Re-Supply Sorties During Operation Market Garden (self-published, Eijsden, 2009), 18-25 September 1944, pp. 216-217.

[62]. Warren, Airborne Operations, pp. 159-160.

[63]. No 38 Group RAF Report on Operation ‘Varsity’, 20 May 1945, para 110, (held at AHB).

[64]. Warren, Airborne Operations, p. 161.

[65]. Ibid., p. 167.

[66]. Ibid., pp. 158, 161-163.

[67]. AP 3231, Airborne Forces, pp. 184-185.

[68]. Ibid., pp. 193, 197.

[69]. No 38 Group RAF Report on Operation ‘Varsity’, 20 May 1945, para 24-26.

[70]. US War Department Training Circular No 113, 9 October 1943, Notes on the Planning and Preparation of the Allied Expeditionary Air Force for the Invasion of Northwest France, June 1944, Appendices.

[71]. Smoke obscuration was specifically identified as a hazard to air navigation during the preparations for the Normandy landings; see TNA AIR 37/464, Wing Commander D. Cattell to Chief of Ops, 1 May 1944.

[72]. Warren, Airborne Operations, p. 156.

[73]. Ambrose, Pegasus Bridge, pp. 57-58.

[74]. No 38 Group RAF Report on Operation ‘Varsity’, 20 May 1945, para 24-26.

[75]. The main British doctrinal pronouncement on the subject read: ‘The dropping zone should be an easily recognisable area rather than a pin point chosen for tactical reasons’. See extract from Joint War Office/Air Ministry Report on the Employment of Airborne Forces, Part A, Lessons of Airborne Operations in Sicily, Notes on the Planning and Preparation of the Allied Expeditionary Air Force for the Invasion of North West France in June 1944, Appendices.

[76]. AP 3231, Airborne Forces, p. 185.

[77]. Warren, Airborne Operations, p. 174.

[78]. Otway, Airborne Forces, p. 308.

[79]. Howard N. Cole, On Wings of Healing: The Story of the Airborne Medical Services, 1940-1960 (William Blackwood, Edinburgh, 1963), p. 166.

[80]. TNA WO 171/4320, 6 Air Landing Brigade Headquarters War Diary, 24 March 1944.

[81]. Otway, Airborne Forces, pp. 318.

[82]. Warren, Airborne Operations, p. 181.

[83]. See, for example, No 38 Group RAF Report on Operation ‘Varsity’, 20 May 1945, para 63. For a typically misleading account of the British glider landings, offering no comment at all on their inaccuracy or the materiel losses involved, see Lloyd Clark, Arnhem: Jumping the Rhine, pp. 314-316.