New Orders, New Guys

Bonn, Germany - 1945
(Source)

Leutnant Manfred Sauer was waiting to see the station master, along with a number of other people in uniform. Sauer and his 5th Company had made it to Bonn, damage from an air raid farther up the line just outside Köln had halted their train here. Now they were stranded, nearly 60 kilometers (by road) from their destination - Düren. As he was patiently waiting in the queue, he saw a party of Feldgendarmerie coming down the platform, checking papers from the looks of it. Eventually there was one of the Kettenhunde¹ standing in front of him.

The man actually snapped his heels together, saluted, then said, "Herr Leutnant, your papers and movement orders, please?"

Sauer noted immediately that the Feldgendarm only had three fingers on his right hand. Sauer took a chance, "Russia?"

"Yes Sir, winter of '41. Froze my arse off."

"More than that, ja? I was there, outside Leningrad. Later we were at Kharkov, we..."

"223rd Infantry Division?" The Feldgendarm took a guess, he had been in the 223rd.

"Yes, you?" Sauer asked, what were the odds of meeting someone from the old outfit.

"Jawohl! The very same! Back then I was an artilleryman, after losing two fingers and a large part of my left foot, they made me a cop."

"Ouch! Frostbite?"

"The fingers, yes, the foot was courtesy of a Russian mine. Lost the fingers in '41, messed up my foot in '42. Been in the Feldgendarmerie since then."

Apparently Sauer had a look of surprise on his face as the Feldgendarm continued, "Not all of us are assholes, Sir. Your papers? In case my lieutenant asks..."

"Certainly, Feldwebel...?"

"Brunner, Franz Brunner, Herr Leutnant. From Meissen."

"A pleasure Feldwebel Brunner." As he said this, Sauer handed over his paybook and the company's movement orders.

Brunner took them, after handing back Sauer's paybook, he looked hard at the company's orders, "Is this correct Sir, 5th Company, II Battalion, 294th Grenadier Regiment?"

"Yes, it is, why, is something wrong?" Sauer was a little alarmed, while Brunner seemed like a decent chap, the Feldgendarmerie lieutenant coming their way might not be.

"Brunner, Leutnant." The Feldgendarm Oberleutnant nodded to the two men, "Is there a problem Feldwebel?"

"Don't we have new orders for any units of the 294th Grenadier Regiment?" Brunner asked.

"Just the 2nd battalion of that regiment, why?"

Sauer spoke up, "Manfred Sauer, acting commander of the 5th Company of the II Battalion of the 294th Grenadiers. Is there a problem, Herr Oberleutnant?"

"Come with me Leutnant Sauer, there is no problem, but I do have new orders for your men. Have they detrained yet?"

"No Sir, I was hoping to find out what the new plan was, we were bound for Düren, but..."

"I know, the English terror bombers were very busy last night, all the lines through Köln are out right now. But you're not going to Düren just yet. Your entire battalion has been attached to the 3rd Panzergrenadier Division, they're at Euskirchen, reforming. I think we can get your train there tonight. But you'll have to wait here until dark."

"Here in the station?"

"No, no, there are still a few buildings nearby where your men can rest, get some food into them. Your battalion commander is in my office as we speak."

"Oberstleutnant Siegesmund? He's here?"

"Um, no, he's not your battalion commander anymore, he was arrested yesterday."

"Arrested?"

"He was caught on an eastbound train in civilian clothes, I assume he decided he'd had enough of the war."

"I had no idea..." Sauer didn't know the man very well, he had seemed, flighty. But now?

"Ah, here we are Sauer, my office, such as it is."

As the two men entered the battered building, the door was broken and most of the windows were boarded up, a man inside, sitting with his back to the door reading some papers, stood up.

Though the light was dim, there was something familiar about the officer, then Sauer noticed that the man had his right arm in a sling. The officer stepped forward, into the light.

"It took you long enough to get here, Leutnant." The man had a big smile on his face.

It was Jürgen von Lüttwitz.

Stavelot, Belgium - 1945
(Source)

"They sure beat the Hell out of this place, Sarge." Pfc. Franklin Barnett was looking at the ruins of the town of Stavelot. Snow-covered, very few buildings intact. Next to one building was a wrecked King Tiger.

"Well, those SS bastards came through here. Murdered a bunch of civilians, those who could get out fled west. Those that couldn't well, a lot of them died here. Women and kids too." Sgt. Stump Gentile was angry and saddened at the same time. He couldn't imagine the sort of soldier who would kill civilians. He resolved that no SS men would ever be captured by his squad.

"Any chance of us getting a beer while we're here, Sarge?" Pvt. Ken Buchanan, Barnett's assistant gunner, had asked the question. The B.A.R. team's ammunition bearer chimed in when he heard the word "beer."

"Yeah, how about that, Sarge?" Pvt. William Zerbst didn't look old enough to drink, Gentile doubted the kid had started to shave yet. All the guys in the squad called him "Baby," he looked so young.

Gentile came up short in his thoughts when he remembered, his squad was down to eight men. Word from headquarters was that they'd be getting replacements soon. Stump really hoped there were some veterans among them.

S/Sgt Jack Wilson, platoon sergeant for 2nd Platoon, and Sgt. Woodrow Sherman, the platoon guide, were standing in front of nineteen men. Wilson noted at least two noncoms, a sergeant and a corporal, the remainder were all privates. Too many looked too damned young, probably draftees to boot!

"All right, listen up! When I call your name, sound off with 'Here.' None of this 'yo' bullshit. You hear your name, you sing out with 'HERE!'"

"Cruz, Enrique!"

"HERE!"

"Ryan, Maurice!"

"HERE!"

"Kelley, Larry!"

"HERE!"

"Price, Arthur!"

"HERE!"

"Cortez, Ignacio!"

"HERE!"

"Schultz, Rick!"

"HERE!"

"Page, Billy!"

"HERE!"

"Gomez, Javier!"

"HERE!"

"Allen, Eric!"

"HERE!"

"McBride, Wayne!"

"HERE!"

"Higgins, Leon!"

"HERE!"

"Perkins, Kurt!"

"HERE!"

"Webb, Kenneth!"

"HERE!"

"Stanley, Rudy!"

"HERE!"

"Phillips, Randall!"

"HERE!"

"Fuller, Jonathan!"

"HERE!"

"Estrada, Juan!"

"HERE!"

"Holloway, Raymond!"

"YO!"

"What's that you f**king numbnuts?!!"

"Sorry Sarge. HERE!"

"Hawkins, Allan!"

"HERE!"

"Okay, you privates will follow Sgt. Sherman here. He'll get you assigned to your squads and get you some chow. He'll get you squared away, Sgt. Cruz, Cpl. Ryan, you come with me, I'll introduce you to the L.T., let's go people, we don't have all f**king day!"

The lower ranking men followed Sgt. Sherman, who actually marched them away, which surprised Wilson, he didn't know Sherman had it in him, but hey, it's still the Army, isn't it? Wilson chuckled as he watched the new guys move off.

"Sarge, Corporal, I gather you guys are returning from hospital?"

Sgt. Cruz answered first, "Trench foot in the Hürtgen, trust me, you don't want that."

Cpl. Ryan then chimed in, "Shrapnel, left leg. Also the Hürtgen. I'd like to say I'm glad to be back, even if it is 1st Battalion, but I'd be lying."

"All right then, glad you guys are here, we're short of experienced people. Let's go meet the L.T., name of Hernandez. Good man."

As the three men went up the street, Wilson had to wonder, how long would these new men last?

¹ Literally "chained dog" German military slang for the Feldgendarmerie.

Link to all of The Chant's fiction.