Bridge at Remagen Remains a Poignant Symbol : REMAGEN: Reminder of the War

The senior burghers of this lovely town on the Middle Rhine prefer to tell Americans of its many tourist attractions and to shrug aside all allusions to another influx of Yankees in an earlier and unfriendlier time.

Karl Dreesbach, a spry pensioner, was the first person we spoke to in Remagen. Where could we find the site of its famous bridge?

“There’s not much to see there,” he said in passable English. “Visitors find our new mall, the promenade along the river or our churches to be much more interesting.”

But we were persistent, and he finally gave us directions to the bridge site. We were also curious. Where did he learn his English?

“In Canada,” he said. “In Lethbridge, Alberta.”

And what was he doing in Canada?

“I fought in the Afrika Korps with Rommel and was taken prisoner. I spent much of the war in a POW camp working on Canadian farms.”

We understood then why Herr Dreesbach--and other veterans we met in Remagen--were reluctant to speak of the bridge. It still rankles them as a reminder of the Wehrmacht’s failures and blunders and of their own sacrifices in a lost cause.

It was on March 7, 1945, that an advance patrol of an American tank division, led by 2nd Lt. Karl H. Timmermann, fought its way to the heights above Remagen and made a discovery that historians agree was a turning point in World War II.

Although the retreating German armies had blown up every other span across the Rhine to slow the Allied pursuit, the Ludendorff railroad bridge, capable of carrying the heaviest American tanks, was, incredibly, still standing.

After an intense battle, the bridge fell within a day to three companies of GIs, one of them under the command of Timmermann, a Nebraskan of German descent.

Over the next week, more than 25,000 troops and their tanks and equipment swept across the Rhine and became the spearhead of the decisive Allied drive into the heart of Germany.

Gen. Dwight D. Eisenhower, supreme commander of Allied Forces in Europe, later wrote: “Broad success in war is usually foreseen by days or weeks (but) this was completely unforeseen. We were across the Rhine on a permanent bridge . . . The final defeat of the enemy was just around the corner.”

Adolf Hitler also understood that failure of his officers to destroy the bridge was a prelude to Germany’s final defeat, and had four of them shot.

Under constant attack by German planes and heavy guns, the bridge fell into the river 10 days after its capture, carrying 18 Americans to their death. By that time, however, combat engineers had built a temporary floating bridge 200 yards downstream and the flow of arms and troops continued without interruption.

Today, nothing is left of the bridge except for two lofty stone abutments on each side of the Rhine.

Only 12 miles from Bonn and midway between Cologne and Koblenz, Remagen has undergone little change since its brief but crucial wartime role. New buildings arose from the rubble left by bombs and artillery in those sections of the town nearest the fighting at the bridge. But most of the older buildings, including those in the town square, still stand.

It is only a five-minute drive up a steep hillside and through an exclusive residential district to St. Apollinaris Church and the vantage point from which Timmermann first saw the bridge.

A memorial museum in one of the bridge abutments on the Remagen side of the river presents a closer and more stark picture of the battle. A circular stairway leads to a succession of small chambers containing hundreds of photographs of the action, plus the actual weapons and battle gear of both German and American troops.

There is also a reproduction of a letter Timmermann sent home shortly after the battle in which he wrote: “There’s no glory in war. Maybe those who have never been in battle find that certain glory and glamour that doesn’t exist. Perhaps they get it from the movies or the comic strips.”

Unfortunately, a plaque outside the museum honoring the 18 Americans who died in the collapse of the bridge has been torn down by vandals.

A 1969 movie, “The Bridge at Remagen,” starring George Segal, was based on the history of the bridge.

Our own reception at the museum was not exactly cordial. An elderly ticket seller and guide, who spoke not a word of English although conceding that most visitors were Americans, tried to overcharge us by manipulating the exchange rate.

Although we paid the precise amount a placard over his head said we should pay, he was still nattering away at us when we left 45 minutes later.

But except for the dour docent, we found the residents of Remagen to be warm and welcoming. And we found Remagen itself to be one of the most restful and least touristy towns along the Rhine.

Built on a hillside within sight of terraced vineyards, Remagen commands a view of a swiftly flowing section of the Rhine and its constant stream of barges and sightseeing craft. The town was once a popular vacation retreat for Roman emperors and, later, for German kaisers.

A long promenade with a hotel, the Furstenberg, plus sidewalk cafes and the mansions of the wealthy run the length of the town’s riverfront.

Along the promenade, flagstaffs bearing the ensigns of many nations enliven the days, while a glittering array of ornate street lamps help Remagen shine by night. The streets leading down to the river from the town center have ingenious patterns of red, black and beige cobblestones.

Even if history had not been made at Remagen, its dramatic setting, splendid churches and remnants of the Roman era, as well as its many festivals and cultural events, would make it an attractive place for travelers who wish to avoid the crush at the more popular resorts along the Rhine.

To guarantee a memorable evening, have dinner or a drink at a cafe on the promenade and look across the Rhine to deep forests on the opposite bank or down the river to steep vineyards climbing toward the heights.

Come twilight, watch the red, white and green running lights of the barges glimmer across the dark surface of the river. If you do, you will vow to return . . . as we did.