March 1945, London. The war room smelled like cigar smoke, an old paper. Winston Churchill sat in his leather chair, a half-finish cigar burning in the ashtray beside him. Papers covered his desk. Maps hung on every wall. Red pins showed where armies fought. Blue pins showed where ships sailed. Black pins marked cities that no longer existed.

 Churchill reached for another document from the pile. [snorts] This one came in a plain brown envelope. No markings on the outside. Just three words written in pen. Eyes only. Churchill. He tore it open. Inside was a telegram. The paper felt thin in his thick fingers. He held it up to the lamplight and started reading. The message came from Field Marshall Bernard Montgomery.

Everyone called him Monty. He commanded millions of soldiers across Europe. He was Britain’s greatest general since the Duke of Wellington beat Napoleon more than a hundred years ago. Monty never gave compliments. He especially never praised soldiers from Canada or Australia or other parts of the British Empire.

 He thought British soldiers were the best in the world. He said so all the time. But this telegram was different. Churchill’s eyes moved across the words slowly. Then he stopped. His cigar nearly fell from his mouth. Three words jumped off the page like they were written in fire. Give me Canadians. Churchill read the sentence again.

 Then again. Monty was asking for Canadian troops. Not just asking, begging. He wanted them for the most important battle left in the war, the crossing of the Ryan River, the final push into Germany, the battle that would end everything. This was the story of what Montgomery really thought about Canadian soldiers.

A truth he would never say out loud in public. A secret he only admitted when the war hung in the balance and he needed the best troops the Allies had. And this was the moment Churchill discovered that admission. Sitting alone in his war room with smoke curling around his head. The date was late March 1945. The war in Europe was almost over, but the hardest fighting still lay ahead.

The Rin River cut through Germany like a knife. It was 400 yd wide, 25 ft deep. The current flowed at 5 mph, fast enough to sweep a man away in seconds. The Germans had destroyed every bridge for 200 m. They waited on the far side with guns and artillery and concrete bunkers. Montgomery was planning Operation Plunder.

It would be the biggest river crossing since D-Day, bigger even than the invasions in the Pacific. More than 1,200,000 men waited to attack. Thousands of boats sat ready to carry them across. Hundreds of planes would drop paratroopers behind enemy lines. The artillery would fire more shells in one night than some countries owned in their entire armies.

But none of that mattered if the first soldiers across the river failed. If they died in the water. If they got pinned down on the far bank. if they couldn’t take the fortified cities waiting on the other side. Montgomery had spent weeks planning every detail. He studied maps until his eyes hurt. He read intelligence reports about German defenses. The numbers looked bad.

 The Germans had 85,000 troops dug in along the eastern bank. Hitler had given them direct orders. Fight to the death. No retreat, no surrender. Every man dies at his post. Military experts predicted the crossing would cost 100,000 casualties or more, maybe more. If the attack failed, the war would drag on for months.

 More bombing, more death, more cities turned to rubble. The Germans might have time to finish their new wonder weapons, the rockets and jets that could change everything. Montgomery needed troops who would not break. Soldiers who could cross a river under machine gunfire, land in mud, and keep fighting. Men who could storm concrete bunkers and clear fortified cities, house by house, room by room.

Units that would take 50% casualties and still accomplish the mission. He could choose from British divisions, American divisions, Canadian divisions, Polish divisions, and more. The entire Allied army waited for his orders. He had won great battles before. Elammagne in Africa, Sicily and Italy, Normandy on D-Day.

 He knew how to pick the right troops for the right job. and his first choice, his only choice for the hardest mission was Canadians. Churchill set the telegram down on his desk. He picked up his cigar and took a long pull. Smoke filled his lungs. He thought back to the first war, World War I, nearly 30 years ago.

 He had been younger then, so had the world. He remembered Canadian soldiers at Vimemy Ridge in 1917. British and French armies had tried to take that hill for 2 years. Thousands died trying. Then the Canadians attacked. 4 days later the hill was theirs. He remembered their reputation. They will do what you ask.

 Then ask what else needs doing. [snorts] That was what British generals said about them quietly when no one else listened. They did not quit. They did not break. They finished what they started. But Churchill also knew the cost. Canada had a population of just 11 million people, small compared to Britain or America or Germany.

 Yet, they had sent more than 700,000 soldiers overseas. 42,000 were already dead. Every division Montgomery asked for meant more telegrams to Canadian mothers, more coffins on ships sailing home. Churchill stood up from his desk. He walked to the window. Outside, London stretched into the darkness. Street lights were still dimmed because of bombing raids.

 The city had survived the blitz. Survived years of war, but it looked tired, old, gray. What had the Canadians done to earn Montgomery’s request? What battles had they fought? What price had they paid? Churchill knew some of it. Sicily, Italy, Normandy, the Shelt, every hard fight, every mission where success seemed impossible, and they had succeeded every time.

 And what would Churchill say now that he knew the truth? Monty believed Canadians were the best assault troops in the entire war. Better than British, better than American, better than anyone. He was willing to write it down, risk his pride, admit that colonial soldiers had surpassed the soldiers of the empire. Churchill crushed out his cigar.

 He would have to decide soon. Send the Canadians to the bloodiest sector of the Rine, or refuse and risk losing the battle that could end the war. The weight of that choice pressed down on his shoulders like a physical thing, heavy, cold, unforgiving. Bernard Law Montgomery was 57 years old in March 1945. He had spent his entire life in the British Army.

 He won battles that made him famous across the world. Newspapers wrote stories about him. Radio announcers spoke his name with respect. Soldiers saluted him in the streets. He was Britain’s hero, the general who beat Raml in the African desert, who led armies through Sicily and Italy, who commanded part of the D-Day invasion. But Montgomery had another reputation, too. He never gave compliments.

 Other generals praised their troops after victories. They shook hands with ordinary soldiers. They said, “Thank you.” Not Montgomery. He believed praise made men soft. He thought only British soldiers deserved respect. And even they had to earn it through perfect performance. Everyone else was second rate.

 In 1941, before America entered the war, Montgomery had written a report about Canadian forces training in England. His words were harsh and cold. He called them keen but poorly trained. He said they would require extensive work before they could fight alongside real British units. He did not believe colonial troops could match soldiers from Britain, Canada, Australia, New Zealand, South Africa.

 They were useful for carrying supplies and guarding quiet sectors. But the hard fighting, that was work for British men. The Canadians proved him wrong, though it took years and rivers of blood. When Canada entered the war in September 1939, their entire regular army numbered just 4,500 soldiers, smaller than some British regiments.

They had old rifles from the First War, a handful of artillery pieces, barely any tanks, no modern equipment at all. But Canadian men volunteered by the thousands. They came from Toronto and Vancouver, from prairie farms and maritime fishing villages. By 1945, more than 730,000 Canadians served overseas, three full divisions, two armored brigades, specialized units, support troops.

 An entire army built from almost nothing. They fought in Sicily in July 1943. They climbed mountains in Italy and broke through the Gothic line. They landed on Juno Beach in Normandy in June 1944 and pushed farther inland on D-Day than any other Allied force. They fought through the Norman hedge where every field became a fortress and every hedge hid German guns.

But the battle that changed everything happened in October and November 1944. the Shelt Estuary. Montgomery needed the port of Antworp open to supply his armies. The Germans held a stretch of flooded farmland in Holland called the Shelt. They had built concrete bunkers on land that was half water, half mud.

Military experts looked at the maps and predicted 50% casualties. Some said it could not be done at all. Montgomery gave the mission to First Canadian Army. Some British officers thought he did it because he expected them to fail. A chance to prove that colonials were not real soldiers. A way to justify keeping them away from important battles.

 The Canadians attacked on October 2nd. Rain fell constantly. The ground turned to soup. Men waited through water up to their waist. German machine guns fired from bunkers that could not be flanked because the flood water protected them. Artillery shells exploded in the mud, throwing up geysers of black water and earth.

 For 36 days, the Canadians fought. They took the fortified pocket piece by piece. They crossed canals under fire. They assaulted the island of Walcaran through surf and storm. 12,873 Canadians were killed or wounded, but they opened Antworp, the port that would keep Allied armies supplied all the way to Germany. German prisoners told Canadian officers something interesting during interrogations.

They said Canadian soldiers fought differently than British soldiers. More aggressive, more willing to die to take an objective. Your men fight like demons,” one German general said when he surrendered his garrison. Montgomery wrote a private message to the British War Office in December 1944. The message stayed classified for decades.

 In it, he admitted that the Canadian performance exceeded all expectations. He said he needed to reconsider previous assessments, but he never said any of this in public. He took credit for the successful operation himself. He gave speeches about his brilliant planning. He never mentioned the Canadian troops who bled to make his plans work.

 Now it was March 1945. Montgomery faced the Ry River. Operation Plunder would be his biggest challenge yet. Crossing 400 yardds of fast water, while Germans shot at you from a prepared defenses, then fighting through fortified cities on the far bank, cities with names like Wessel and Rice and Emmerick, places the Germans would defend with everything they had left.

Montgomery could request any units he wanted from Eisenhower’s command. American divisions were available. British divisions waited for orders. Polish units, French units. The combined armies of the Western Allies stood ready. He sat in his command caravan studying maps. Red marks showed German positions.

 Blue arrows showed planned crossing points. He had to decide which troops would assault which sectors. The northern part of the crossing faced the worst defenses. Wel was the most heavily fortified city on the Rine. Whoever attacked there would face bunkers, artillery, machine guns, and thousands of German soldiers with orders to never surrender.

British divisions were tired. They had fought for months without rest. American units did not know Montgomery’s careful style of fighting. They liked to move fast and take risks. That would not work on the Rine, where one mistake meant drowning in the river or dying on the far bank. Montgomery’s hand moved across the map.

 His finger traced the sector opposite Wessle, the most dangerous ground, the place where the battle would be won or lost. He picked up his pen. He wrote unit designations for each crossing point. When he reached Vzel, he wrote three words. Second Canadian Division. Then below it, Third Canadian Division. He had made his choice.

 The troops he once dismissed as poorly trained Colonials. The soldiers he never praised in public. They would lead the assault on the hardest objective in the hardest battle left in the European War. The Ry River stretched 400 yardds from bank to bank. Standing on the western shore, a man could barely see the other side on a clear day.

The water ran 25 ft deep in most places. The current moved at 5 mph, fast enough to drag a swimming man downstream and tire him out before he reached the far bank. In March, the water was cold enough to kill in minutes. The Germans had blown up every bridge for 200 m. Chunks of concrete and twisted metal stuck up from the water where proud bridges once stood.

 On the eastern bank, they had built defenses that made the river into a death trap. Concrete bunkers faced the water. [snorts] Artillery pieces sat in prepared positions with exact measurements already calculated. Machine gun nests covered every yard of shoreline. The Germans called it the final line of the Zigfrieded fortifications.

German intelligence officers had done the math. They calculated that any Allied force trying to cross would lose 30% of its men in the first wave. One out of every three soldiers would die in the boats or on the beach before they even reached the city walls. The officers wrote these numbers in reports sent to Berlin.

 They felt confident the rine could be held for weeks, maybe months. Montgomery knew all of this. He had read the intelligence reports. He had studied aerial photographs showing every German position. He had listened to his engineers explain how difficult it would be to cross under fire. Now he had to choose which troops would make that crossing.

21 Army Group had many options. British divisions waited for orders. They were good soldiers with years of combat experience. American units were available if he asked Eisenhower for them. The Americans fought with energy and courage. Canadian forces stood ready, too, though they were tired from months of constant battle and under strength from heavy casualties.

Operation Plunder called for attacks all along a 20-m front. Multiple crossing points at the same time to spread German defenders thin. But the northern sector faced the worst defenses. Three cities sat on the eastern bank. Vzel, Ree, and Emmerick. The Germans had turned them into fortresses. Every building became a bunker.

 Every street a killing zone. Taking those cities would require brutal street fighting, going house to house, room to room, clearing German soldiers from sellers and atticts and everything in between. This was not open warfare where tanks could maneuver and artillery could pound targets from a distance. This was close combat with grenades and rifles and bayonets.

 The kind of fighting that broke even the best units. The kind of battle where soldiers had to be willing to die to take the next building, then the next street, then the next block. Montgomery sat in planning meetings with his staff officers. They spread maps across tables and discussed which units should go where.

 British guards divisions were excellent troops. They fought well in fields and forests, but urban combat was different. Guards units had struggled before when forced into city fighting. American airborne troops were superb shock soldiers. They could jump from planes, land behind enemy lines, and cause chaos. But sustained grinding battles wore them down.

 They were best used in short, sharp actions, not week-l long sieges. The Canadians had proven themselves masters of exactly this type of warfare. At the Shelt, they fought through flooded ground and concrete bunkers for over a month. They took terrible casualties, but never stopped pushing forward. They were patient and methodical and willing to pay the price to finish the job.

 On March 15th, Montgomery finalized his assault plans. Wesle was the key, the most heavily fortified city on the entire Rine. If Wessel did not fall in the first 48 hours, the whole operation risked getting stuck. The advance would slow. The Germans would have time to bring up reinforcements. More Allied soldiers would die.

 The British divisions assigned to attack Wel sent reports to headquarters. Officers mentioned concerns about morale. Men were tired from months of fighting. Some unit commanders expressed doubt they could take the city with acceptable losses. They did not refuse the mission, but their reports made Montgomery uneasy.

 He faced an impossible choice. He could keep British units at vessel for national pride. Show the world that British soldiers led the final great battle, [snorts] but if they failed, thousands would die for nothing. The war might drag on for months, or he could request Canadian troops. Admit they were better suited for this mission.

 Admit that colonial soldiers had become superior to British soldiers. undermine everything the empire stood for. The weather made everything worse. March on the Rine meant cold rain and low clouds. Visibility dropped below 100 yards on bad days. The assault boats would cross in complete darkness to avoid German search lights.

 Men would land in mud, unable to see more than a few feet ahead with German guns firing at the sound of their movements. Montgomery received German radio intercepts from intelligence officers. Hitler’s orders to rine defenders were clear and simple. Every man will die at his post. No retreat, no surrender. The Germans waiting on the far bank knew they would not survive this battle.

 That made them more dangerous, not less. Men with nothing to lose fought hardest of all. On March 18th, Montgomery sat alone in his command caravan. A small trailer he used as mobile headquarters. Maps covered every wall. A single desk held papers and pencils and a lamp. He stared at the operational map showing the Rine.

 Red circles marked German strong points. Blue arrows showed planned crossings. He picked up his pen to write unit assignments. His hand hovered over the section marked Wessle, the most dangerous sector, the place where the battle would be won or lost, the mission that required troops who would not break no matter what happened. Montgomery wrote carefully, “Request immediate transfer of second and third Canadian divisions to vessel sector.

” He had made his choice. Everything hung in the balance now. Montgomery did not write a normal military order. He did not send the request through proper channels where dozens of officers would read it and file copies and add it to official records. Instead, he drafted a private telegram. Personal communication.

 He wrote it in his own handwriting on plain paper. The message had special markings, eyes only, triple classified. That meant only a handful of people in the entire Allied command would ever see it. Montgomery folded the paper himself and sealed it in an envelope. He gave it to his most trusted communications officer with direct orders.

 This goes to Supreme Headquarters. No copies, no records. Deliver it yourself. The telegram was short. Montgomery was not a man who wasted words. He wrote for assault on Wessel and fortified sectors require troops proven in urban warfare under heavy resistance. Request Canadian divisions be attached to second army northern sector in current circumstances with current objectives against current enemy. Give me Canadians.

Those last three words changed everything. Give me Canadians. Not request available forces. not assign appropriate units. He named them specifically. He said exactly what he wanted. Bernard Montgomery, the man who never praised anyone, who believed British troops were the finest in the world, was asking for Canadians by name for the most important battle of his career.

 This was not a standard military requisition. This was an admission. Montgomery was saying that colonial troops were his first choice for the war’s most critical battle. He was admitting that when everything hung in the balance, when failure meant disaster, he trusted Canadians more than British soldiers, more than anyone else. The Allies had the telegram left Montgomery’s headquarters on March 18th.

It traveled by secure communications to Verset, France, where Supreme Headquarters Allied Expeditionary Force had set up operations. Staff officers at Chef received it on March 19th. They read the classification markings and understood this was not routine paperwork. They forwarded it to the Combined Chiefs of Staff.

 By protocol, copies went to the British War Cabinet in London. Churchill’s military secretary received the telegram on March 20th. He placed it in the prime minister’s evening dispatch box, a red leather folder that held the day’s most sensitive documents. Churchill received this box every night, no matter what else was happening. Inside were the secrets of the war, intelligence reports, casualty figures, communications between Allied leaders.

It was 11:30 at night when Churchill opened the box in his study at 10 Downing Street. He had spent the entire day dealing with problems. President Roosevelt in America was sick, maybe dying. Stalin in Russia was making impossible demands for Eastern Europe after the war. The Labor Party in Parliament was criticizing Churchill for war costs and civilian deaths from bombing.

 He was tired and frustrated and wanted to sleep, but the dispatch box could not wait. Churchill poured himself a scotch and sat down at his desk. He opened the box and pulled out the papers inside. Montgomery’s telegram sat on top. Churchill read it once. Then he stood up from his chair. He walked to the window and looked out at dark London.

 He took a long drink of scotch. Then he walked back to his desk and read the telegram again. Then a third time he pressed a button on his desk that rang a bell in the military secretary’s office down the hall. A young officer appeared at the door within seconds, slightly out of breath from running. Churchill did not look up from the telegram.

 He said, “Get me the casualty figures. Canadian forces. September 1939 to present. I want complete numbers. I want them tonight. The officer disappeared. Churchill read the telegram a fourth time. Those three words, give me Canadians. He knew what they meant. He knew what Montgomery was really saying. Winston Churchill had fought in the First War, World War I, 30 years ago when he was younger, and the world was different.

 He had served alongside Canadian troops at Vami Ridge in 1917. British and French armies had tried to take that hill for 2 years. Thousands of men died in the mud for a few yards of ground. Then Canada attacked. In 4 days, Vimei Ridge was theirs. Churchill remembered their reputation. British generals spoke about Canadians quietly in officers clubs.

 They will do what you ask, then ask what else needs doing. They did not quit. They did not complain. They finished the mission no matter what it cost. But they were supposed to be colonial troops. Second rate, useful, but not exceptional. Now, Montgomery was saying something different. He was saying the best troops in the entire Allied Army were Canadians.

 That Britain’s greatest general needed colonial soldiers to win Britain’s most important battle. Churchill sat down and opened his personal diary. He kept it locked in his desk drawer. No one else ever read it. Years later, after his death, it would be found and published. But on this night, it was private.

 He wrote, “Monty has never asked for anything by name before. Always demands the best divisions and means British. that he names Canadians specifically in writing means he believes they are the best, but it also means he knows the butcher’s bill will be terrible and he wants men who will pay it without breaking. Churchill knew the cost of being the best.

 Canada had a population of just 11 million people, small compared to Britain’s 45 million or America’s 130 million. But Canada had already lost 42,000 dead in this war. Every division Montgomery asked for meant more funerals, more telegrams to families, more young men who would never come home. He remembered a conversation with Canadian Prime Minister McKenzie King in 1942.

King had said, “Send our boys where they are needed most. We did not enter this war to watch from the sidelines.” Canada wanted to prove itself. Wanted to show it was a real nation, not just a British colony. They had paid for that proof in blood. Churchill could approve Montgomery’s request. Send Canadians to the bloodiest sector of the Rine.

 Give them the hardest mission. Or he could refuse. Protect Canadian lives, but risk the entire operation failing. risk the war lasting months longer. Risk more deaths across all the Allied armies. He picked up his pen and wrote two messages. The first was short to Montgomery. Your request approved. Use them well. The second was longer. To McKenzie King in Canada.

Monty has asked for your divisions by name for the decisive battle. They have earned this position through their blood and courage. I would not send them if I did not believe, as Montgomery clearly does, that they are the finest assault troops in this entire war. History will remember what they accomplish.

 Churchill signed both messages and sealed them in envelopes. He gave them to his military secretary to send immediately. Then he sat alone in his study with his scotch and his cigar and his thoughts. He understood what had just happened. Britain’s greatest general had admitted that the sun had set on the empire. The colonies were not just equal partners anymore.

 They were better soldiers, superior in every way that mattered. The war would be won not by British might alone, but by Commonwealth blood. And Churchill had just agreed to spend more of that blood to achieve victory. The weight of that decision pressed down on him like a physical force, cold and heavy and impossible to escape. He finished his scotch and stared at Montgomery’s telegram one more time.

Three words. Give me Canadians. The truth that would never be spoken out loud but could not be denied. The orders went out on March 21st. Military communications officers sent telegrams to Canadian headquarters. Second Canadian Infantry Division and Third Canadian Infantry Division. Transfer to British Second Army Command immediately.

 Destination Rin Crossing sites opposite Vzel and Emmerick. The briefing documents included maps, intelligence reports, and casualty estimates. The estimate said 40 to 50% losses expected. Lieutenant General Guy Simons commanded Second Canadian Corps. He was a hard man who had led Canadians through Italy and France. He read the assignment orders at his headquarters in Holland.

 His staff officers stood around the map table waiting for his reaction. Simons was quiet for a long moment. Then he said, “Monty wants us for the hard work again.” That means he trusts us to do what others cannot. Tell the men exactly that. Simon sent a message to all unit commanders. Every regiment, every battalion, every company received the same words.

 We have been requested by name. We know what that means, but we also know what we can do. Prepare for assault. He did not lie to them. He did not pretend the mission would be easy. Canadian soldiers appreciated honesty more than false comfort. The British divisions originally assigned to vessel sector received new orders on March 22nd.

 They were reassigned to secondary objectives. Crossings at lighter defended areas. Missions with lower expected casualties. British officers understood immediately what had happened. They had been pulled from the toughest fight and replaced by Canadians. War diaries from British regiments show mixed feelings. Some officers felt relief.

 They had seen the intelligence reports about vessel. They knew what awaited on the far bank. Being reassigned meant living through the next week. But there was wounded pride, too. One British colonel wrote in his diary, “The Canadians get the glory jobs now. Times have changed since 1914. The empire’s hierarchy had reversed. Colonial troops now led while British troops followed.

 German intelligence officers intercepted Allied radio traffic on March 24th. They could not read encrypted messages, but they could track which units were moving where based on radio patterns. Their reports to Vermacht headquarters said, “Enemy has deployed Canadian divisions opposite our strongest defenses at Visel. Previous experience indicates maximum allied commitment to this sector.

Recommend priority reinforcement. The Germans knew the Canadians by reputation. They had fought them in Normandy and Holland. German afteraction reports from those battles used words like relentless and unstoppable. Now German soldiers manning the Rine defenses learned that Canadians were coming.

 That knowledge did not comfort them. Private Gordon Brown sat in a tent in Holland writing a letter home. He was 21 years old from a farm outside Toronto. He had joined up in 1943 and fought through France and Belgium. Now he was in second division preparing to cross the rine. His letter said, “They always send us where the fighting is worst.

 We have got a name for getting impossible jobs done. I am proud of that, but I am also scared. The rine is the big one. Say prayers.” Gordon sealed the letter and gave it to the male officer. He did not know he would never write another letter home. He would be dead in 3 days, killed in the first wave crossing the Rine. His mother would receive his last letter two weeks after receiving the telegram telling her Gordon was gone.

 Montgomery did something unusual on March 24th. He visited Canadian headquarters personally. Montgomery rarely visited units before battle. He preferred to plan from his caravan and let unit commanders handle the troops, but this time he came in person. Canadian officers assembled in a command tent. Montgomery stood at the front with his map and his pointer.

 He looked at the rows of faces watching him. These were the men who would lead soldiers into the river and across to Wessel. Many of them would not survive the week. Montgomery said, “You have been selected for this task because I have complete confidence you will succeed where others might fail. The eyes of the world will be on this crossing.

 I expect you to show them what you are made of.” It was the first time he had ever publicly acknowledged selecting Canadians specifically. The first time he admitted he wanted them above all others. After the briefing, Canadian officers talked among themselves. They understood what Montgomery’s visit really meant. He was asking them to die for him, asking them to pay the price his British troops could not or would not pay.

 But he was also giving them recognition, saying they were the best. For soldiers who had fought in the shadow of the British army for years, that meant something. Churchill sent another message to Prime Minister McKenzie King on March 23rd. The assault begins tomorrow. I have reviewed the plans. Montgomery has given your divisions the positions of greatest honor and greatest danger.

 Whatever happens, Britain will remember this. I will remember this. Churchill knew honor and danger were the same thing. The most honored troops were always the ones who died first. The night before the assault, Canadian units assembled at Ry staging areas. Engineers prepared assault boats, small wooden craft that would carry 12 men across 400 yardds of water under fire.

Artillery crews rained their guns on German positions across the river. Ammunition trucks brought up shells by the thousands. Men wrote final letters home. They cleaned weapons for the 10th time. They checked their equipment over and over, looking for anything that might fail at the wrong moment.

 Some tried to sleep, but could not. Others played cards or smoked cigarettes and told stories about home. Company commanders briefed their platoon. Wesle is a fortress city. 8,000 German defenders with orders to die in place. We cross at 2 in the morning in complete darkness. First wave expected 60% casualties. Second wave completes objectives.

 We will take that city. The words were blunt and honest. Canadian officers did not sugarcoat reality. Quote, Sergeant James Kyle from third division sat with his section cleaning rifles. He was 23 years old from Montreal. He had fought since Normandy and won medals for bravery. He said to his men, “We know why Monty picked us.

” Same reason they picked us for shel for every terrible job. We do not quit. We do not break. We finish what we start no matter what it costs. Lieutenant Robert Henderson from Second Division wrote in his diary, “There is pride, sure, being Monty’s first choice means something, but there is also anger. We have already paid in blood for being good at this and now we will pay again.

I wonder how many of my company will be alive next week. I wonder if I will be. The broader significance was emerging. This was not just another battle. This was the moment when the British Empire admitted it needed its colonies more than the colonies needed it. Montgomery’s request, Churchill’s approval, the assignment of Canadians to the hardest mission, all of it proved that the world had changed.

 Britain could not win its wars alone anymore. The Dominions were now the dominant partners, and everyone knew it. As midnight approached on March 23rd, Canadian soldiers moved to their assault positions along the Rine. The water looked black in the darkness. The far bank was invisible. Somewhere across that river, German soldiers waited in concrete bunkers with machine guns aimed at the water.

 In a few hours, Canadians would cross that killing zone. Many would die in the boats. More would die on the far bank, but they would cross. They would take Wesle. They would prove Montgomery’s choice correct because that was what Canadians did. They finished the job no matter the cost. Hey, I’m sorry to interrupt, but if you’re enjoying this story about Canadian soldiers and Montgomery’s Secret Request, please consider subscribing to Canadians at War.

It really helps us keep telling these forgotten stories of courage and sacrifice. Now, back to the Rine. The assault began at 2 in the morning on March 24th. Darkness covered the Rine like a blanket. Canadian soldiers climbed into wooden boats along the western bank. Each boat held 12 men with their rifles and equipment.

Engineers pushed the boats into the current. Oars dipped into black water. The crossing had started. German search lights suddenly blazed across the river. Machine guns opened fire from bunkers on the far bank. Tracer rounds lit up the night like deadly fireworks. Artillery shells exploded in the water, throwing up geysers 30 ft high.

 Boats capsized. Men screamed. Some drowned in the cold current. Others made it across and jumped onto the muddy eastern shore. The first wave took 34% casualties. One out of every three men who crossed the river was killed or wounded before reaching solid ground. Exactly as Montgomery had predicted.

 Bodies floated downstream. Overturned boats drifted away. But the second wave was already launching. More boats, more men. They crossed through the same fire, landed on the same beaches, and pushed forward into vessel. The fighting in Vzel was brutal. Germans defended every building. Canadians cleared them one room at a time with grenades and rifles and bayonets.

Progress was measured in yards, not miles. A city block might take an entire day to capture. But the Canadians kept pushing. They did not stop. They did not retreat. By March 27th, 72 hours after the crossing began, Wesle fell. Other crossing points along the Rine saw different results.

 British divisions at lighter defended sectors took four to 5 days to achieve the same penetration. American divisions crossed at Raagan where Germans had failed to destroy a bridge. They faced much lighter opposition. The Canadian accomplishment at Vessel, crossing against prepared defenses, taking a fortified city, establishing a secure bridge head was the most difficult military objective of the entire operation.

Within a week, entire Allied armies were across the Rine and advancing into Germany’s interior. The successful crossing broke German defensive capacity completely. Vermached forces that had fought for years suddenly lost the will to continue. Units began surrendering by the thousands. Soldiers who had been told to fight to the death instead threw down their weapons and raised white flags.

 On April 15th, the Rur pocket collapsed. 325,000 German troops surrendered at once. It was one of the largest mass surreners in military history. These were not just rear area support troops. These were combat divisions that had fought through the entire war. But with the Rine behind them and Allied armies surrounding them, they gave up.

 10 days later, on April 25th, Soviet and American forces met at the Elbe River in central Germany. The linkup meant Germany was cut in half. There was no hope of continuing the war. On May 8th, Germany surrendered unconditionally. The war in Europe was over. Supreme Headquarters Allied Expeditionary Force conducted analysis after the Rine crossing.

Their report said, “Canadian divisions accomplished mission objectives 36 hours ahead of projected timeline despite facing heaviest resistance. Casualties 31% versus predicted 40 to 50%. Indicating superior tactical execution under fire. Wessel sector was operational lynchpin. Its rapid capture prevented German reinforcement of other sectors.

The numbers told the story. Canadian divisions suffered 31% casualties instead of the predicted 40 to 50%. They had taken their objectives faster and with fewer losses than expected. That was exceptional performance. Other units facing similar defenses would have taken much higher casualties or failed entirely.

 Montgomery wrote his official afteraction report on April 5th. He sent it to the combined chiefs of staff in Washington and London. The report said, “Canadian divisions performed magnificently. Their skill, determination, and fighting spirit proved decisive in breaking enemy resistance at critical sector. Operation success largely attributable to their rapid capture of key objectives.

” That word magnificently stood out. Montgomery had never used that word to describe any Commonwealth forces before. He rarely used it to describe anyone. His reports were usually dry and factual. But this time he chose a word that expressed something beyond competence. He was admitting the Canadians had exceeded even his high expectations.

The War Office in London studied the Rine Crossing carefully. They wanted to understand why Canadian units excelled at opposed river crossings and urban warfare. Their studies from 1945 and 1946 reached several conclusions. Canadian forces used decentralized command that let junior officers make quick decisions.

 They emphasized combined arms cooperation at the platoon level with infantry, artillery, and engineers working closely together. They were willing to accept initial casualties to maintain momentum rather than stopping to regroup and they had superior small unit leadership and training. These findings influenced post-war British military doctrine.

 The Canadian methods became the model for how to conduct difficult assaults. NATO doctrine after 1949 incorporated lessons from the Rine crossing into standard operating procedures. The aggressive assault, the decentralized command, the acceptance of casualties to keep moving forward, these became textbook tactics. The recognition that Canadian troops were essential to British victory changed Commonwealth relations fundamentally.

Canada was no longer a subordinate partner. After the war, Canada gained equal voice in NATO planning. Canadian officers began serving in senior positions throughout Commonwealth defense structures. The relationship that had existed since colonial times officially ended. German prisoners from the vessel sector gave consistent testimony when interrogated in April 1945.

They said Canadians fought differently than British soldiers, more aggressive, more willing to keep attacking through casualties. One German corporal said, “We were ordered to hold them at the river. We could not. They kept coming through artillery, through machine guns, through everything.” General Kurt Felt commanded German defenses at Visil.

When he surrendered on March 27th, he told Canadian officers, “I had 8,000 men in prepared positions. I expected to hold for 2 weeks minimum. You broke through in 3 days. Your soldiers attacked like men who had already accepted death. You cannot stop soldiers who have no fear.” American commanders took notice of Canadian performance.

General Omar Bradley commanded 12th Army Group. he said. After the battle, Eisenhower and I discussed the Canadian performance. They have become the shock troops of choice for the toughest jobs. That says something about the British Empire’s future. The Dominions are now the dominant partners. The final casualty figures from the Rine Crossing operation told the story in numbers.

Canadian division suffered 4,743 killed, wounded, or missing. That was a 31% casualty rate. British divisions in lighter sectors suffered 2,813 casualties, an 18% rate. American divisions at Ramagan had 1,934 casualties, a 12% rate. Canadian casualties represented 52% of all Commonwealth losses, even though Canadians were only 35% of Commonwealth forces in the battle.

They had been assigned the most dangerous 52% of the mission, and they accomplished it. The successful Rine crossing shortened the war by an estimated 2 to 3 months. Military historians calculated this saved potentially 100,000 Allied casualties and prevented further Soviet advances into Western Europe. Canadian performance at Visil was directly responsible for the 36 to 48-hour time advantage that prevented German forces from reorganizing behind the Rine.

 Before the Rine, Canadians were viewed as solid but unremarkable troops, useful for secondary operations. Good soldiers, but not exceptional. After the Rine, that perception changed completely. Canadians were now recognized as elite assault troops. The first choice for decisive battles requiring certain success regardless of cost.

 Montgomery’s private request had become public knowledge through the results. Everyone could see why he had asked for Canadians by name. They were simply the best. Montgomery never publicly explained why he requested Canadians for vessel. He gave interviews after the war, but avoided discussing his decision. British reporters asked him about the Rine crossing many times.

 He always gave the same answer. I selected the appropriate forces for each sector based on tactical requirements. He would not admit in public what he had written in private, but his memoirs told a different story. Montgomery published them in 1958, 13 years after the war ended. In those pages, he finally acknowledged the truth.

 He wrote, “A commander must place his best troops where the battle will be decided. For the Rine, that meant the Canadians. I had learned through hard experience what they could accomplish.” Montgomery retired from the army in 1958. He lived quietly in England until his death in 1976 at age 88. His funeral was a state occasion with thousands attending.

Among the honorary pawbearers were veterans from Canadian regiments he had commanded. Men who had crossed the Rine under his orders. Men who had complicated feelings about the general who sent them into the meat grinder but also recognized their worth. Churchill reflected on the Rine crossing in his war memoirs.

Volume 6 came out in 1953. He devoted an entire chapter to Operation Plunder. He wrote, “Montgomery’s request for Canadian divisions was the shest indication of their proven worth. That Britain’s finest general wanted them above all others for the decisive battle speaks volumes about what they had become. Soldiers second to none.

 In 1954, Churchill visited Canada on a speaking tour. He met with Ryan crossing veterans at a ceremony in Ottawa. old soldiers in their best suits with medals pinned to their chest. Churchill shook their hands one by one. He told them, “You were Monty’s first choice because you were the best choice. Britain could not have won without you.

I made sure Monty told you that, even if it wounded his pride to say it.” Lieutenant Robert Henderson led an assault company from Second Canadian Division across the Rine at Wessel. He was 24 years old from a small town in Ontario. German machine gun fire hit him twice during the crossing. Once in the leg, once in the shoulder.

 He kept leading his men anyway, directing them forward until Wesle was secured. He survived and went home in 1945. Henderson became a school teacher. He married, had children, lived a quiet life. He rarely talked about the war unless asked directly. In 1985, a local newspaper interviewed him for the 40th anniversary of the Rine Crossing.

He was 63 years old. Then the reporter asked if he felt honored that Montgomery chose Canadians. Henderson said, “Monty picked us because he knew we would do the job no matter what.” That was a compliment, but also a death sentence for a lot of my friends. I am proud we were chosen. I am angry we had to be.

 Does that make sense? Henderson died in 2003 at age 82. He donated his medals to the Canadian War Museum. His military cross for the Ryan Crossing went in a display case with a note he wrote. We were the best because we had to be. No other choice. Private Gordon Brown never made it across the Rine. He was the young man from the Toronto farm who wrote home saying, “Say prayers.

” He died on March 24th in the first wave. A machine gun bullet hit him in the chest as his boat reached the Eastern Shore. He was 21 years old. His body was recovered 3 days later from the muddy riverbank. Gordon was buried at Grubs Canadian War Cemetery in the Netherlands. His mother, Margaret, received a telegram on April 2nd telling her Gordon was gone.

Two weeks later, she received his last letter, the one where he said Monty wanted Canadians for the rine. Margaret Brown wrote to Prime Minister McKenzie King in May 1945. Her letter said, “They tell me Monty specially asked for our boys. I suppose that should make me proud. It just makes me miss my Gordon more.

” She kept Gordon’s last letter in a frame on her wall until she died in 1987. The letter is now displayed at the Canadian War Museum. Sergeant James Kyle from Third Division survived the Rine Crossing. He fought all the way through Germany until VE Day in May. He came home to Montreal in late 1945. But the war stayed with him.

 He had nightmares. He could not hold jobs. He struggled with what doctors now call post-traumatic stress disorder, though they had no name for it then. Kyle rarely spoke about his experiences. His family learned not to ask. But in 1995, for the 50th anniversary, a reporter convinced him to give an interview. He was 73 years old.

 The reporter asked if he felt honored that Montgomery chose Canadians. Kyle said, “Young people ask if we felt honored. We felt used, but we also felt necessary. If Monty needed Canadians to win his battle, then Canadians we would be. We did not fight for Monty. We fought for each other and for the guys who did not make it across that river.” Kyle died in 1998.

 His funeral had an honor guard from his old regiment. A bugler played last post. his granddaughter read from his 1945 diary. The entry from March 24th said, “Made it across. Half my section did not. Monty got what he wanted. I hope it was worth it.” Margaret Schneider was 17 years old and lived in vessel when the battle came.

 She hid in her basement with her family while Canadians fought through the streets above. She expected to be killed. German radio had told civilians that enemy soldiers would murder everyone. But when Canadian soldiers came through her street on March 26th, they gave her family food instead of bullets. One soldier spoke German. He said, “We do not want to kill you.

 We want to go home.” Margaret wrote in her diary. They looked so young, so tired. How many died to capture our city? For what? The war was already lost. Margaret survived and immigrated to Canada in 1952. She met Ry crossing veterans at memorial events over the years. She told them, “The Canadians I met after the war were the same boys who fought through Wel, kind, decent, haunted by what they had done and seen.

 They had not wanted to be the soldiers Montgomery chose for his hardest battles, but they did it anyway. The Rine Crossing became central to Canadian military identity. Every March, Canadian veterans, organizations hold ceremonies to remember Operation Plunder. They gather at memorials and lay wreaths. They read the names of the dead.

 They tell the story of how Montgomery requested Canadians by name for the war’s most important battle. That story became part of what it means to be a Canadian soldier. A reminder that when the hardest job needed doing, Canada’s troops were the first choice. Gross beak Canadian War Cemetery sits in the Netherlands near the German border.

 Row after row of white headstones stretch across green grass. 2,619 Canadian dead are buried there. 847 of them died during the Rine crossing. Their headstones have the Canadian maple leaf carved in stone. Each one marks a young man who crossed the river and never came home. The memorial wall at Gbake lists names of soldiers whose bodies were never found.

men who drowned in the rine or were blown apart by artillery. Their families had no grave to visit, only a name on a wall. The inscription on the memorial says, “They crossed the Rine so Europe might be free.” In Wessel, Germany, a Canadian memorial was unveiled in 1995 for the 50th anniversary of the battle.

The city had been completely rebuilt after the war. New buildings stood where rubble once lay, but the memorial remained to remember what happened. The plaque has words in both English and German. It says, “Here fell Canadian soldiers in the liberation of vessel. March 1945. Their sacrifice brought freedom to the city and peace to Europe. We remember.

” German and Canadian officials stood together at the unveiling ceremony. Former enemies shaking hands over the graves of the dead. Some Rin crossing veterans attended. They walked through streets they had fought to capture 50 years before. The city looked nothing like they remembered, but the memories remained sharp.

 The Canadian War Museum in Ottawa has a Rine Crossing exhibit. The centerpiece is Montgomery’s original telegram obtained from British archives in 1985. It sits in a glass case under special lighting. Visitors can read the three words that changed everything. Give me Canadians. The display caption explains, “When Britain’s greatest general needed to win the war’s most crucial battle, he asked for Canadians by name.

 NATO military doctrine after 1949 incorporated lessons from the Rine crossing, the aggressive assault tactics, the decentralized command, the willingness to accept initial casualties to maintain momentum. These became standard procedures for opposed river crossings. Militarymies around the world studied the battle. They taught it as an example of how to execute a difficult amphibious assault.

The Canadian model became the textbook approach. By the Korean War in 1950, Canadian units were widely regarded as elite forces. American and British commanders requested them for difficult missions. The reputation earned at the Rine endured. When Canada sent troops to Korea, they were assigned to hard fighting at places like Capyong, where they held against overwhelming Chinese attacks.

They proved again what they had proven at the Rine. Canadian soldiers did not break. The Rine crossing changed how Canadians saw themselves as a nation. Before the war, Canada was still partly a British colony. The British government had significant control over Canadian foreign policy.

 Canadians saw themselves as junior partners in the empire. But the war changed that perception. After Montgomery’s request became public knowledge, Canadians realized something important. Their soldiers were not just equal to British soldiers. They were better. The best general, Britain had wanted Canadians above all others.

 That recognition gave Canada confidence to assert independence. Postwar immigration materials promoted Canada as the nation whose soldiers were chosen to win the war’s decisive battle. Canadian history textbooks emphasized the Rine crossing as the moment when Canada achieved military recognition equal to Britain. School children learn about it alongside Vimemy Ridge from the First World War.

 teachers explained that Montgomery’s request vindicated Canadian military tradition. It proved that Canada had come of age as a nation. British Canadian relations fundamentally changed after the war. Montgomery’s admission that he preferred Canadian troops altered the psychological balance. Postwar defense agreements treated Canada as an equal partner, not a subordinate dominion.

Canadian officers gained positions in joint command structures that had previously been reserved for British officers only. The confidence gained from Rin crossing recognition translated into political independence. Canada began making its own foreign policy decisions without British approval.

 The process culminated in 1982 when Canada patriated its constitution, finally cutting the last legal ties to British parliamentary control. The soldiers who crossed the Rine in 1945 had helped make that independence possible. Rin crossing survivors carried their experiences forward in different ways throughout their lives. Some, like Lieutenant Henderson, balanced pride and anger until they died.

 Others like Sergeant Kyle felt used but necessary. All understood they had been part of something historically significant. The moment when the colony proved superior to the Metropole. Veterans testimonies collected between 1985 and 2015 consistently express this duality. Pride at being chosen, resentment at the cost, satisfaction at proving Canadian worth, grief for friends lost.

 As Kyle said in his last interview, “We were Monty’s first choice. We paid for that honor in blood, but we also proved we deserved it.” Children and grandchildren of Rin Crossing veterans maintain the legacy today. Canadian veterans organizations organize annual trips to Grusbank Cemetery. High school students adopt graves of individual soldiers.

They research the soldiers lives, write reports about them, and present their findings at school assemblies. These young people ensure the stories survive beyond statistics. Gordon Brown’s family established a scholarship fund for military history students. Henderson’s children donated his medals and letters to museums where thousands see them every year.

 These personal artifacts give faces and names to the casualty figures. They remind visitors that the 4,743 Canadian casualties were not just numbers. They were real people with families and dreams and futures that ended at the Rine. Military historians recognized the Rine crossing as the decisive operation of the Western European campaign.

 Academic books and articles give specific acknowledgement to Canadian contributions. The consensus assessment is clear. Montgomery’s judgment was correct. Canadians were the right choice for Wessel sector. No other available forces would likely have succeeded as quickly with acceptable casualties. Montgomery’s telegram represents a moment when military necessity overrode national pride and imperial hierarchy.

Britain’s greatest general admitted in writing that colonial troops were his first choice for the war’s most crucial battle. This admission was both compliment and epitap. Compliment to Canadian military excellence. Epitap to British military supremacy. The 4,743 Canadian casualties at the Rine were not just numbers on a report.

 They were young men from Toronto and Vancouver and Montreal, from small prairie towns and maritime fishing villages. They had traveled thousands of miles to fight Britain’s war. They were chosen because they were the best. They proved that designation correct at terrible cost. Churchill’s final assessment came from his personal diary written April 15th, 1945.

The entry was declassified in 2015, 70 years after the war. He wrote, “Monty’s request for Canadians was the truest measure of their worth. A general who admits his countrymen are not his best soldiers is a general who values victory over pride. That he made this admission proves both his military genius and Canada’s military excellence.

 Britain needed Canada to win this war. That is not shameful. That is the truth. And the Canadians who died proving it deserve to be remembered not as colonials who served the empire, but as soldiers who had no equals. Grossbank Cemetery stands today as it stood 70 years ago, row upon row of white headstones under open sky.

The Canadian maple leaf carved on each stone. 847 rine crossing dead among the rows. Each headstone marks a young man who was chosen for the hardest mission, who accepted the assignment, who never came home. Each one was Montgomery’s first choice. Each one irreplaceable.