First Contact

(Source)

The men were awakened before dawn, the officers seemed to be in more of a hurry than usual. As Guillaume got ready to begin another day's march, Sergeant Pierre Brasseur came to him.

"We're shifting to the east Caporal, the Boche are coming through the Ardennes, in their thousands."

"Tanks?" Guillaume didn't want to hear the answer Brasseur gave him, "Hundreds. Columns of Boche tanks stretching back to the Rhine. Get your boys onto the road, Guillaume, we're marching now!"

The sky was lightening in the east when the column began to move, they hadn't gone more than a kilometer when they stopped. Guillaume wondered what the holdup was, when the wait stretched to 15 minutes, word trickled down the column for the men to fall out to the side of the road but to keep their gear on. The stop was only temporary.

As the sun peeked over the horizon Guillaume heard the tramp of footsteps and the squeaking of wagon wheels. There, on the road, was a group of civilians, they were heading to the west. It was a column of refugees fleeing the advancing Germans.

The men watched as the column thickened and filled the road, spilling onto the verge. People of all ages, children, the elderly, pushing farm carts, baby carriages, whatever they could find with wheels, piled high with personal possessions. A farm cart, pulled by two oxen, had two elderly people sitting on a pile of furniture and suitcases.

Guillaume stood up and called to them, "Monsieur, Madame, where are you going?"

The old man grimaced and said, "I fought the bastards twenty-two years ago, now they are back. We are going to visit my daughter in Louvain. Stop them, stop them here!"

Young Trouvé asked his corporal, "Who are they running from, Caporal?"

Guillaume shook his head as if to clear his thoughts, then he turned to Trouvé, "The Germans, Marcel, they are running from the Germans."

Leutnant Acker was back with the platoon so Jürgen was once again simply an assistant squad leader. It irked him a little bit, Feldwebel Harzer wasn't a very good squad leader. He tended to give vague commands and was often indecisive. He was also something of an Arschloch.¹

"Lüttwitz! What the Hell is this?" Jürgen turned to see what the fuss was.

"Herr Feldwebel?"

"We should have two spare barrels for the 34, I only see one."

"One of the barrels was damaged during the fighting at the border, we turned it into the armorer, we should have it back within the next day or so." Jürgen explained.

"Damn it, I'm gone for a few days and the whole squad falls apart!"

"Herr Feldwebel?" Jürgen knew that they were to advance soon, Harzer acted like he knew nothing about it.

"What?" Harzer asked with some exasperation.

Jürgen saw Leutnant Acker coming their way, he didn't look happy.

"Harzer! Why aren't your men in position?"

"Sir?"

"We're advancing within the hour, you should be up on the line right now, not chatting here in the rear. Von Lüttwitz, I expected better from you!"

Acker went back the way he came turning back once to shout, "Move it!"

"Heads up lads, here they come!" Sgt. Greaves saw the enemy infantry emerge from the treeline some 200 yards away. They were well dispersed in skirmish order, presenting no worthwhile target for the moment. But give them another 50 yards and he'd have the lads open up with their Lee-Enfields. He had his machine gun further down the line, ready to enfilade the German line.

"Just like that, eh Sar'nt? Just walk out in the open, expect us all to bloody flee?" Billy was excited, this was his first glimpse of the enemy.

"They're probing, once they find us I think they mean to fix us in position. I'm worried whether or not they have tanks off to the flank. That would certainly ruin our day!"

"Might be something worse Sar'nt ..." Billy pointed to the northeast. A swarm of small shapes were in the air, gradually they became recognizable as aircraft.

"Damn! Steady boys, maybe they're not for us."

Jürgen didn't notice the Luftwaffe dive bombers which passed by over to the left flank. They were heading deeper into Belgium to interdict the Allied supply system behind the lines. Stop the flow of supplies and the troops on the line would eventually have nothing to fight with, nor food to eat. He was far too focused on the field ahead of them, ahead was another tree line, a perfect place for the enemy to be set up. Was he the only one who noticed?

"Feldwebel Harzer, we need to spread out more."

"Scared Lüttwitz? I thought you were ..." Harzer had a look of surprise on his face as he stumbled forward then dropped to the ground, his tunic torn and bloody.

"COVER!" Jürgen had the squad down and returning fire, but the rest of the platoon was milling around in the open, they were confused. Von Lüttwitz could hear the rattle of rifle fire, fast and accurate from the looks of the casualties they were taking.

"Grüner!"

"Here, Uffz!" Jürgen heard the man answer from the left, fairly close.

"Stay low, get back to the jump off point, the company headquarters should be there. Tell them ..." Jürgen paused, what message should he send back, that they were getting torn up by rifle fire?

"Tell them that our advance is held up, we have a strong enemy skirmish line to our front, we either need artillery or someone to come in on their flank. We're pinned!"

"Got it Uffz, cover me!"

"Hold your fire lads, we don't have any targets. The Huns have gone to ground." Sgt. Greaves was wondering why the machine gun was still silent, they should have swept the field by now. His answer came in the form of a runner arriving from the rear.

Dropping to his knees and panting the man gasped out his message, "I've come from company Sar'nt, fall back, we've got Jerry tanks in our rear. The platoon on your right has already scarpered². Hang about much longer and they'll scoop us all up!" The man then got back to his feet and continued down the line.

"Right then, by sections, back to the start line. Billy take your lads first, we'll cover. Looks like we've lost this one."

"We'll get 'em tomorrow Sar'nt! We laid a lot of 'em low today, tomorrow should be easier if we can get our own bloody tanks up. Where the Hell are the Frogs, aren't they supposed to be over yonder." Billy waved in the direction of their right flank.

"I don't know laddie, but we've got to go. Now off wi' ye!"

Caporal Guillaume Micheaux could hear firing all around them, but nothing close. One of the men claimed to have heard tank engines to the rear of the battalion.

Sergeant Brasseur scoffed and said, "And where else would our tanks be but to our rear, moving up to support us. Calm down child, I know you're new to this, but trust me, our line here is very strong."

Little did Brasseur know, but elements of a German armored division had already bypassed them to their rear earlier in the morning. The tanks the men were hearing were German.

The campaign was only a few days old, but things were starting to go very wrong. The men in the field were doing their best, but the generals were already being overwhelmed by the speed of the German advance. Confusion led to units being left in the wrong place or moved to where they weren't needed.

Nothing was moving on the roads as the Luftwaffe strafed anything which moved, mostly refugees fleeing the onrushing Germans, but the refugees themselves added to the confusion, they blocked roads and spread panic.

But the speed of the advance was also concerning to the German high command. No one expected this kind of breakthrough, generals schooled in the mindset of the First World War grew nervous, some suspected a trap. Elements of the Allied armies were deeper into Belgium than expected. Reports from the Ardennes spoke of traffic jams and hold-ups along the Maas.³ The bulk of the panzers were supposed to break through there, deep in the Allied rear.

Reports weren't coming through so the generals in the various German headquarters were starting to worry. Many of them were products of the First World War, many were artillerymen who didn't understand the new ways introduced by men like Guderian and Manstein. Their aides counseled patience, it took time for reports to come back from the front, let the men leading from the front handle things. It was no time to panic.

Yet, already there was talk of calling a halt to determine the situation. The success of the offensive in the West hung in the balance.

¹ Asshole, prick.

² British slang, "ran away"

³ The German word for the Meuse River