The Old Guy

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"Tell me again how we are winning the war Herr Unteroffizier?" Grenadier Karl-Heinz Köhler asked his squad leader as he lit his pipe.

Unteroffizier Manfred Sauer sighed and looked at the man. He had to be the oldest man in the company. According to his paybook, he had been born in 1894, had fought in the First World War and had won both the 2nd and 1st Classes of the Iron Cross. As he stood there with the older man, one of the 17-year old conscripts came up and asked about the black and white ribbon in the second button hole of the older soldier's tunic.

"I mean, you have the Iron Cross 1st Class, but aren't you supposed to get the 2nd Class first, before you can win the 1st Class? Or do I have that wrong?" Grenadier Emil Lutz fancied himself an expert on the uniforms of the Wehrmacht as he'd studied them since before he was in the Hitler Youth.

Sauer looked at the young soldier and said, "Ah Lutz, you should have studied the uniforms of the Kaiser's army as well. In Grenadier Köhler's button hole is the ribbon for the 2nd Class as it was in World War I, pinned to his tunic pocket is indeed the Iron Cross, 1st Class, but look close, what do you see?"

Lutz leaned in for a good look, then said, "There is no swastika, it says 1914, not 1939. What is the 'W' for?" The youth looked puzzled, then it hit him, "Ah, 'W' for 'Wilhelm,' the Kaiser."

Köhler chuckled and said, "My, my, there is hope for the younger generation yet, it's not all 'Sieg Heil' and all glory to the GRÖFAZ."

Lutz again looked puzzled, so Sauer explained, "GRÖFAZ, it stands for Größter Feldherr aller Zeiten."

Lutz looked at his squad leader and said, "Greatest field commander of all time?"

"But of course, they didn't teach you that at school?"

Suddenly the light came on, "Oh, you're talking about the Führer?"

"With nothing but the greatest respect my boy." Köhler chuckled as he said that, drawing deeply on his pipe, which he had finally gotten to draw properly. "Be nice if we had some proper tobacco and not this ersatz nonsense."

Grenadier Lutz, suspecting that somehow the older man wasn't entirely respectful of the Reich and its leaders, said nothing. But if looks could have killed...

"How many Frenchies did you kill in the last war Opa¹?" Sauer asked.

Looking first at his squad leader, with a rather disdainful look, then at Lutz, Köhler answered, "Medal citation said 37, I doubt it was that many. It's not something I like to talk about. But I'm no stranger to killing. Seen enough of that in my day."

Lutz finally looked somewhat impressed at the grizzled old veteran. Before he could say another word, Sauer said, "Run along now Lutz, the grown ups need to talk. Go report to Obergefreiter Vogel, I think he needs help cleaning pots."

Lutz looked perturbed, but did as he was commanded. He went off, at a fast jog, to find the company cook. "Good little Nazi there, Herr Unteroffizier." Köhler shook his head as he said that.

"Be careful with that line of thought Opa, they're starting to shoot people for that sort of talk."

Drawing deeply on his pipe Köhler looked at the young NCO, "Yes, yes indeed. They're also calling up old farts like me to go back into the Army. At least I'm not with some Volkssturm² unit drilling with broom handles pretending to be soldiers. And you can stop with that 'Opa' nonsense any time, Herr Unteroffizier."

"Sorry, force of habit, you actually look like my grandfather. Maybe a little older but..."

"No disrespect Herr Unteroffizier, but kiss my arse."

Sauer chuckled, he liked this old veteran. Easier to talk to then some of the more bright-eyed youngsters fresh from the Hitler Youth and the Labor Corps. "Let's go find something to eat, old man."

"Now there's an idea, you young pup."

The front lines near Aachen, 01 October 1944
The circled divisions are those of von Lüttwitz (275th) and Paddock (1st). The red dot is the city of Aachen,
(Source)

Some of the company commanders were grousing that all of the real fighting was taking place around Aachen, they wished that they could be sent down to fight the Amis there. Hauptmann Jürgen von Lüttwitz understood their ardor, he used to be like that. He spoke up, "Meine Herren, the Amis will be attacking all along the line soon, I'm sure. But we're still taking in new men, half of whom are only partially trained and barely know which end of the rifle is which, we're not ready for combat."

The battalion commander agreed with von Lüttwitz but said, "Gentlemen, I know you want back into the war, but as your colleague stated, we're not ready. Division has been talking about rotating battalions into the line near Aachen to give the men combat experience. But the American 2nd Armored Division is just over that next hill. They're preparing for something, I don't know why they haven't attacked. We could barely stop them at this point."

What the battalion commander didn't know is that the Allies were having major supply difficulties. Major General Ernest N. Harmon, commanding 2nd Armored, "Hell on Wheels," was continually screaming at corps and army headquarters to get him the supplies he needed. He claimed that he had nothing in front of him capable of stopping his outfit from driving to the Rhine. He just needed the fuel and munitions to do so.

For now it was a lack of fuel which kept the Allies away from the Reich. But that wouldn't last forever. The Germans had the time to prepare, but did they have the resources? Hauptmann von Lüttwitz and some of the older hands thought that having time to prepare would do nothing but delay the inevitable. The only question was - how many more men, women, and children had to die before the diehards realized it was futile?

¹ Grandpa
² Literally "people's storm," a national militia formed in the late years of WWII. Faced with destruction and the loss of so many men, the Nazis organized old men and boys into these units. Many of whom died facing Russian tanks in the East.