Bridge Over the River Rhine

By September 1944 the tides of war had turned, and the Allies were slowly washing inwards across Europe. Paris had been liberated and, five long years into World War Two, there was talk that it all could be over by Christmas. Integral to making this happen was a decisive entry into Germany.

Approaching Germany from the west, the Siegfried Line marked a significant obstacle for the Allies to cross. Heavy fortifications had been in place along almost 400 miles stretching the length of Germany's western border since before the war had begun - Hitler planning the 'Westwall' of his nation as early as 1936. Alongside thousands of bunkers lay 'dragon's teeth', which acted as tank traps.

The Allied solution to the Line was an airborne attack that was to be codenamed Operation Market Garden. The plan called for the largest ever aerial movement in military history, and would allow for the Siegfried Line to be broken from both sides. Near to the Dutch town of Arnhem troops were to be dropped, and were to take control of the bridges that crossed the Rhine. On September 17th 1944 the massive task was undertaken and, though there were plenty of initial successes, the attempt quickly stalled.

André Deutsch's book 'Victory in Europe', Julian Thompson looks at the battle that ensued after the initial landings and considers the individuals who found themselves surrounded once more by the terrors of war. Below is a letter sent during the battle at Arnhem, written by Daily Express reporter Alan Wood, and featured in the book.

For more on the battle, the operation and the decisive actions that would win the war for the Allies (albeit not by Christmas), read Julian Thompson's 'Victory In Europe'.

A Visit to the Imperial War Museum

This week marks the precise point, one hundred years ago, at which the first conflicts of World War One broke out in Europe. It's natural, as a military history publisher in 2014, that our thoughts have very much been centred on the First World War in recent months - but we never like to separate ourselves from the true artefacts for too long. With the re-opening of London's own Imperial War Museum this month, and memories of war at their peak, we thought it was high time we paid the refurbished museum a visit!

The first thing that strikes visitors as they enter the IWM is a (fairly) modern weapon of war, hanging in beautiful comparison with a much older one. The arch that separates the entrance hall from the glorious main atrium offers a sneak peak at both the Harrier (above) and Spitfire.

Growing up with an overly-eager aeroplane-adoring father, we were often subjected to his (not so) internal debates over which of these two was his favourite plane. Was it the lovingly nicknamed Jump Jet, a fighter that had become immediately iconic upon its 1969 introduction due to its ability to launch vertically into the air? Or was it the more sprightly, but no less iconic, Spitfire? We're huge fans of both, but the Spitfire probably wins our favour, having captured the public's imagination (and loyalty) during WWII's Battle of Britain. It's also a beautiful beast, formed of gentle curves and terrific design points.

One of the biggest attractions at the refurbished IWM is the museum's new First World War galleries. These curve around the base of the atrium and, as you can see above, attract quite a queue even in the initial hour after opening.

Unlike the atrium, which offers up grand artefacts with little context - planes, cars and rockets - the First World War galleries are an intensely intimate and emotive affair. With that in mind, we didn't really feel it appropriate to take photos. The whole experience is terrific, and beautifully curated. A reconstructed trench, though obviously lacking in mud, water and constant threat to one's life, is nevertheless a moving experience. The shouts of soldiers evoke the terror of gas attacks as the deafening roar of a warplane rumbles overhead. A small boy walking down the trench with his mother was suitably unnerved that he kept on having to be chased down and brought back so he could understand that though he was safe, this was a terrifying reality to many young men in years now passed.

Indeed, though the exhibition is filled with mostly small items - heavy rifles that can be lifted to demonstrate the burden they put on soldiers, camouflage gear and bullet-ridden hiding places - they build a tremendous, awe-inspiring picture that becomes much more than the sum of its parts.

Back out in the atrium, we climbed the huge staircase towards the top floors. Though there are lifts hiding at the back, these are the best way to view the treasures in the huge hall of the museum. Every stair opens up a slightly different angle on the past, and on the weapons (and casualties) of war that surround you.

See what we mean about different angles on the past? It seems strange, but something about the ability to view everything in the atrium from almost every possible direction really opens up the idea of the items. Technology develops before your eyes - planes, then rockets, and then planes with jet engines. Below you can see the destruction these instruments are capable of delivering. Again, here, we see the queue for the WWI exhibit. It was heartening to see such crowds on a Wednesday morning, all willing to wait so that they might spend time remembering the sacrifices made by men born more than a century ago.

Upstairs offered different sorts of horror - these came from the reminders that war is still all around us. It can be easy to distance ourselves from the terrors of WWI. The upper floors of the IWM bring us back to reality. Here a peace-keeping tank sits in stark comparison with a mural of Saddam Hussein. Around the corner sat a rusted, twisted window frame from the World Trade Center. That too, like the First World War exhibition below, we couldn't bring ourselves to photograph. It wasn't a souvenir, but rather a cold home truth. It did not look like a window frame. It did not look like it had ever been fresh, new, a provider of a crisp view over New York City. Such was the destruction brought upon it.

Elsewhere upstairs there was a segment of the Berlin Wall and, bringing things closer to home than anything else, a newspaper from one of the buses destroyed in London's 7/7 terror attacks. We were reminded that the last time we had visited the fully open IWM it had been one day before these attacks.

This was, perhaps, what we took away from our trip to the Imperial War Museum. The separation from wars passed, and yet the complete connection to those that still wage around us. There were personal realisations, and communal ones. The renovation done to the museum is wonderful, and it stands to educate and remind more emotively than ever before for many years to come.

André Deutsch has published numerous books with the Imperial War Museum. Our latest, 'The First World War on the Home Front' by the museum's senior historian Terry Charman, is available here.