Dry as a Bone ...

View of the Martian desert seen by the robotic rover Spirit in 2004
(Source)

Oh, look at all the brilliant ideas I had this week!

No, wait, that's the surface of Mars.

There's a lot more going on there than in my head right now.

Yup, the well done run dry. But rain is in the forecast. I expect to be introducing an Australian contingent into the North African part of the book. 9th Division to be exact.

Did some quick research, based on Sgt 73rd Regt's comment, his uncle was in the 9th Division at the siege of Tobruk, and decided the 9th was just the thing. If I ever do a Pacific theater account, there's a natural lead in right there.

While in the book it's too late to cover the 1st Siege of Tobruk, it's not to late to cover the Battles of El Alamein, in which the 9th paid a key role.

My research showed the Australian 9th Division was withdrawn from Tobruk in October/November of 1941, leaving a single battalion behind, at the request of the Australian government. Those of you who know your history will realize that that government was growing more concerned with every passing day at the actions of the Japanese.

War hadn't broken out yet, but would, and soon.

The 9th was redeployed to Syria, to keep an eye on the Turks. In 1942, after the attack on Pearl Harbor and the fall of the Philippines, the Aussies wanted their army back home. Quite rightly.

So most of the army was sent back home, the 9th Division was left behind at the request of the British. An American division being promised to head Down Under to backstop the Aussies.

So the 9th stayed in North Africa until January of 1943, they took heavy casualties in the decisive fighting around El Alamein. We will meet some of them in the not-too-distant future. So at least that's one good idea from this week, wasn't mine, props to Sgt 73rd Regt, I'm going to run with your idea. I just hope I can do the Diggers¹ justice! (And get some of this lingo into the story!)

Well, I guess the well wasn't that dry!

Tuna should be along, maybe this weekend, with tales of the Emerald Isle. Yep, him and his Missus visited the Auld Sod recently and it's apparently sparked the urge to write in him. He's our peripatetic political correspondent and has done tales of travel before as well.

So that's upcoming. Juvat might be out of pocket for a bit, so we shall have to see who's got Monday.

I'm hoping my writing slump ends this weekend. A bit o' sleep would be helpful.

It's in the plan ...

Kein Operationsplan reicht mit einiger Sicherheit über das erste Zusammentreffen mit der feindlichen Hauptmacht hinaus.²

Be seeing you.

¹ What's a Digger? Glad you asked, mate, it's a military slang term for primarily infantry soldiers from Australia and New Zealand. You can read about it here, fair Dinkum!

² That's your homework, give me a translation. Should be easy for a clever lot such as you.

Complete Lack of Enthusiasm ...

French reserves crossing a river on the way to Verdun
(Source)

My doldrums continue. I cannot, for the life of me, generate the energy to write something of any value.

Haven't been sleeping well, my mind is far too busy thinking about work (my job is very interesting but there are times I wish it wasn't so, then I could leave it all at work) and also future plot trajectories in the book.

A comment the other day from Sgt 73rd Regt got me to thinking. He reminded me not to forget the Australians. Which, I realize, I had, sort of, the Diggers made a brief appearance here, but no major characters to speak of. I need to rectify that. So yeah, more characters. (But unless I head out to the Pacific, they won't be around long after the war in North Africa comes to an end, we shall see.)

If you really, really need to read about an interesting guy, can't go wrong with "Wully" ...

Field Marshal Sir William "Wully" Robert Robertson, 1st Baronet, GCB, GCMG, GCVO, DSO
(29 January 1860 – 12 February 1933)
(Read Me)

Enlisted in the British Army as a private, retired as a field marshal. The British Army wasn't really known for its egalitarian impulses, Napoléon's army was (in theory). So going that far is quite an accomplishment.

You should read about him, seriously, because Lord knows, I got nothin' ...

Maybe inspiration will strike after a good night's sleep.

Who knows?

Busy, Busy, Busy ...

OAFS Photo

No, this is not Your Humble Scribe being reprimanded by my Muse. But, she has a point.

Monday 1 and Monday 2 were very busy at the paying gig. Monday 3 and Monday 4 look to be no better.

Or worse?

Because yes, I love my job.

I mean someone has to do the necessaries in the la-bo-ra-to-ry before the stuff goes to sea. Right?

Man, I love my job.

But it does get busy at times ...

Yup, it's my crazy time of year.

Not really, but I like the clip.

Busy, busy, busy. Talk quietly among yourselves ...

... not driving a car through the front of a building but, well, maybe, we'll see.

Ciao!

And yes, it was time to change the header ...

Rough Day

Imperial War Museum

Okay, not as bad as those guys above but, I've been busy.

Spent some time over the weekend going through the old "chapters" of the original book and the 1st Prequel (right now we're in the 2nd Prequel). After laboriously noting names and what units they belonged to, I realized something. I don't need to record the "one off" characters, you know, the guys who show up briefly then get killed. Nope just the main characters who stick around for a few posts.

That's four hours of my life gone, but at least I learned something. That's how problem solving goes sometimes, you eliminate the stuff that doesn't work, keep the stuff that does.

At one point in Almost A Lifetime I mention that Bill Brandt and Jack Wilson were in Sicily with the Big Red One. I need to go back and change that, these two guys landed as green privates on D-Day and went on from there. As they were both pretty good soldiers and caught on fast, they would not have been in Sicily. If they had been, they probably would NOT have been privates on the 6th of June 1944.

In Almost A Lifetime the character Billy Wallace made his first appearance. He was in the 1st Prequel as well. I chose his unit based on the unit my Great-Uncle Robert had been in during the Great War. (He died of his wounds in the Middle East and is buried at a Commonwealth Military Cemetery in Gaza.) The Royal Scots Fusiliers has a very good unit diary online, which is what I used to track that unit's movements and actions in Almost A Lifetime. The battalion which Wallace served in was also in France in 1940.

Apparently that battalion spent 1940 to 1944 in the UK, which is why Billy Wallace hasn't made an appearance in a while. (In case you were wondering, if you remembered him at all.)

I also need to catch up with our Polish friend, Jan Kołodziej. He was last heard of being with a German unit on the Eastern Front. We need to catch up with him, and soon.

There are a lot of characters in my scribblings, each of them chosen to illustrate certain aspects of the war. I've touched upon the Battle of Britain, North Africa, Malta, the Eastern Front, even Greece and Crete (briefly).

Norway was covered (I have a bunch of Norwegian commandoes I need to get back to) and then there are the French partisans, still active, somewhere in France.

We'll get there. But ...

The paying gig, while remunerative and enjoyable, does take up a lot of time.

So bear¹ with me.

¹ Yes, that's your cue, a bear.

Indiscriminate Thoughts (or a shotgun approach to blogging*)

 Well, Campers, another week under our belt.  The highlight of the week was that it appears that our Beloved WWII storytelling Scribe has gotten over his funk and started feeding his story starved audience again.  

So...We got that going for us. But... on with the show.

For those readers interested in statistical meteorology,  I read somewhere this week that this summer, our area of Texas had 58 days that reached at least 100 degrees and 20ish that had reached 105 or better. Unfortunately, after a frantic search I could not find that source again.  So, the best I could do is this.

Source

That's Austin and only through the end of August.  We've had several days above 100 in September also.

However...

Things have changed a bit recently.

The sucking sound from the ground absorbing the rainwater was nearly deafening.

A Noah like sign from The Big Guy? Or a sign that Lisa's taking care of watering the lawn at her house?  Who knows?  We'll take any rain we can get and say "Thank You".

Headed into Church yesterday at dawn.  The temperature on my highly accurate truck thermometer read 62^o and 94% humidity.  Significantly cooler than the previous Sunday at the same time with the temp then being in the 90's already.  So yesterday, we had to resort to turning the defroster on after Bambi's family ran in front of me unseen til just short of the last possible moment.  The wipers weren't keeping the condensation off the windshield.

Yes, Beans, it was a touch "sporty".

But the weather has made for some spectacular atmospheric color palettes.

The camera didn't do it complete justice, the reds and pinks were much more vibrant than were captured.

In the "What the heck are you doing to stay busy?" category and as I mentioned last week, we are entering the Birthday/Anniversary/Holiday season around Rancho Juvat.  The last week in October is a critical one for my health. Forgetting it could be "unhealthy".  Not only is Mrs J's Birthday (I think it's her 25th ;-), I could be wrong) that week, but Grand Daughter #1 aka MG has hers also.  Additionally, Grand Son #1 is expected to make his grand entrance that week to top things off. 

So...The transitioning of good lumber into sawdust must occur with great regularity.  MG will be turning two and since she has at least 1/4 Fighter Pilot blood in her (No Beans, I didn't want to do the math on how much of my Dad's blood would be there), she has discovered she likes to be high up on things.

This was discovered when a ladder that had been being used in the living room  (work on the book shelf perhaps) was climbed by MG with out the assistance, or even the knowledge, of her mother.  At that point, MBD requested a Birthday Present that fulfilled that climbing curiosity, but wasn't 7' tall.

Mrs J did some research and found something called a Pikler Triangle. So it is written, so it shall be.

Still needs paint on the legs, but came together pretty well.  Part of the package is a climbing ramp.

This will be that.  Needs a coat of paint and then some half round dowels will be attached horizontally to be grips/steps.  The intent here is to lower the angle of the climb so MG can learn the ins and outs (alternatively ups and downs) at a more sedate pace.  

It's been a fun build.  I only had to trash one leg that the dowel holes were out of alignment with it's partner on.  I got cocky. 

 "I don't need to use a ruler,  I'll just eyeball it."

Good thing pine 2 x 4's are inexpensive.  Gas to go back to Lowe's however....

And to wrap it up.  Sarge and the gang have had several good discussions lately on the blog about whether or not he should retire and what to expect when he does.

I stumbled across the perfect description of the reality of being retired at breakfast yesterday. Presented for your education, all you, still working stiffs, you!

Am I wrong?

Peace out y'all

*A modern day shout out to Blaise Pascal.

The End

(Source)

Oberfeldwebel Tryb shook his head as the remnants of the 2nd Battalion were falling back to the Seelow Heights, to the east of the capital.

"Did you see that, Sir? An old man and a kid, how are they supposed to stop Ivan?"

Oberleutnant Krausse had indeed seen the two uniformed figures in the slit trench by the road. Old men and boys, no rifles, no machine guns, just that one shot Panzerfaust to try and stop the Red Army.

If they survived the initial artillery bombardment, something the Soviets were fond of, then maybe, just maybe, they might kill a single tank. After that they would be slaughtered by the Soviet infantry, they didn't stand a chance.

"Sir?"

"What is it, Manfred?"

"Why are we still fighting?"

"Do you think we should just lay down our arms? Do you think the Allies, especially the Russians, will just let us go home? Perhaps if we said we were heartily sorry, maybe then we'd be all right?"

Tryb blushed, "You know damned well what I mean."

Krausse didn't answer for a moment, he looked back over his shoulder at his battalion. Three hundred men, give or take, many of the men were draftees, the average age was 19. There were one or two veterans in each company, those were less than platoon strength now.

"We're fighting for our homes now. Germany is lost, perhaps the enemy will break the country up like Goebbels claims.¹ Maybe we'll go back to the way things were before the Kaisers. Saxony, Bavaria, Hesse and the like, but there won't be any Prussia, you can bet on that. No doubt we'll be occupied for decades, if not forever. We have everything to lose."

"What is there to gain?" Tryb asked.

"I don't know, Manfred. We fight until we're ordered to stop."

"Or until we are killed."

"There is that, yes."

Bundesarchiv

"What is that sound, Opa?"

The old man listened for a moment, his hearing wasn't as good as it used to be. Then he heard it, well, he felt the ground shaking first. "Red Army armor, Junge. They'll be here soon enough, I'm surprised we weren't shelled first."

Even as he said that, the first artillery rounds began to impact around their positions.

The sound was unbelievable, no single explosion could be distinguished, it was a constant roar of high explosives detonating. The ground shook as if it were alive and in agony. It felt like the earth wished to throw them into the air where the hot steel fragments would then eviscerate them.

The old man remembered his own youth, the Western Front in 1918. The artillery had given him nightmares for years. He was almost deaf in one ear from a nearby explosion in those days. He was shaking with terror, his nightmares had come back to fill his waking moments.

The artillery stopped, the old man's ears were ringing and everything seemed muffled. He remembered where he was and poked his head up out of the trench. Russian T-34s and infantry, a lot of both from what he could see.

"Okay, Junge, remember what you were taught, you take the T-34 on the right, I'll take the one to the left of that. Okay?"

He got no answer, well, maybe he couldn't hear the answer, so he turned to his young companion.

Willi Möller was laying at the bottom of the trench, his eyes glassy and unfocused. The old man leaned down and grabbed him by the front of his tunic.

"Willi! Willi!"

The boy didn't have a mark on him, but the old man had seen it before, no doubt the boy had been killed by concussion. That nearby blast that had almost thrown him out of the trench but had left him unharmed. The boy had absorbed the entire blast.

"Damn it."

The T-34 sounded very close now, the old man took a deep breath, then flipped the sight up on his Panzerfaust. He then stood up, the weapon tucked under his arm.

He aligned the sight with the top of the warhead, lining it up on the Soviet tank not 30 meters away. He pressed the lever down and heard the whoosh of the propellent as the warhead sped on its way.

It was the last thing he heard as the Soviet infantry escorting the T-34 immediately opened fire on the old man.

(Source)

The war would end in less than a month.

¹ A plan proposed by Secretary of the Treasury Henry Morgenthau to eliminate the possibility of Germany ever rising again. The Nazis heard of it and Joseph Goebbels, Nazi Minister of Propaganda used it to convince the country to fight to the last.

Author's Note: Okay Scott, so it wasn't a "one off," more of a mini-series outside the main novel.

General Mud, the Rasputitsa¹

(Source)

"See Manfred, stop complaining about your boots getting pulled off by the mud, even the f**king SS can't move in this crap." Stabsfeldwebel Krausse said to the man next to him, Feldwebel Manfred Tryb.

Tryb shot his sergeant a look, "I'd think those Tigers could handle this mud, all that power, wide tracks ..."

"Nah, even a tank will sink into this morass if the driver's not careful."

He noticed that the SS men were busy unloading the stuck LKW. Which appeared to him as if it were a torpedoed ship, slowly capsizing. No doubt they intended to lighten the load so they could get it up on more solid ground.

Off the road, where his company was marching, wasn't much more solid than the road. But it hadn't been cut up by vehicles. Once they started running vehicles beside the road, you wouldn't see the difference.

Krausse remembered the fall of 1941, the men had expected to be in Moscow before the snow fell. No doubt the French had thought the same in 1812, his lieutenant had said. Some of the younger troops had scoffed at that.

"What, the French? How could they get to Moscow, they couldn't even stop us in just a month. They're not fighters!" Gefreiter Georg Hartmann had said that, Krausse couldn't even remember the man's face, he'd been killed outside Moscow when the Siberians had come out of the night and snow.

The lieutenant had told the man, "Don't mistake poor politicians and bad officers for bad soldiers. F**kers knew how to fight under Napoléon. In the last war they killed my grandfather at the Somme. They know how to fight. 1940 was an outlier, never forget that."

Some of the men had survived the winter of '41, many had not. Krausse shivered and thought again of the "Frozen Meat Medal," the Ostmedaille, which those who had been in Russia from November of '41 to April of '42 were awarded. Of all the men of his company, only twenty-seven survived to actually wear that ribbon in the second button hole of their tunics.

Medaille Winterschlacht im Osten 1941/42
(Source)

Krausse was acting company commander at the moment, a company more the size of two reinforced platoons, ninety seven men versus an authorized strength of one hundred and ninety men.

Their original commander had been killed in action in October of '41. His old platoon commander, Leutnant Herbert Krupinski, had then taken command. He'd been badly wounded in December, in the same attack which had killed Hartmann and many others.

Another lieutenant, Krausse couldn't remember his name, he'd been killed in action the same day he reported for duty, had taken command. After that, Krausse had the company, "temporarily" the battalion commander, Major Walter Kruger, had said.

Kruger had died that spring, now the battalion was commanded by a lieutenant, most of the companies by sergeants, there was one platoon commanded by a senior private. It seemed to Krausse that the Wehrmacht was slowly bleeding to death on the Russian steppes.

"You there! Feldwebel! Where is your officer?"

Krausse looked up into the face of a rather agitated SS-man, an SS-Unterscharführer. A damned junior sergeant!

"It's Stabsfeldwebel² to you, Kleiner³. My officer is in a grave near Kharkov. Want to go see him?" Krausse had fingered the trigger of his MP 40 which left the SS-man in no doubt that Krausse would use it. If he had to.

The man bristled momentarily, then said, "Sorry, long f**king day. But could you lot help us get our LKW out of the muck? The Tiger platoon commander doesn't want to leave the road, he feels like the road is his best bet."

Krausse sighed, he didn't want to help these SS bastards, he had seen their handiwork outside Kyiv last September. But it would set a bad example to the men, if these guys had been army, he would help, so ...

"Tryb, let's help these fellows move that LKW, those Tigers need to be up front, not back here in the rear!"

(Source)⁴

Once the LKW had been pushed off the road, the five Tigers had roared past without even a wave. They'd helped the SS reload their LKW, which had then driven off without a "thank you" of any sort.

"Arrogant bastards." Tryb had said, spitting into the mud in their direction.

"Yes, and what they've done in this war, we'll all pay for some day. Mark my words, Manfred."

Tryb shook his head, "I know."

¹ Sometimes translated as "thaw." Colloquially it means the "season of bad roads." Rasputitsa: "распу́тица" in Russian.

² A Stabsfeldwebel is the equivalent of a Sergeant Major, an SS-Unterscharführer is a very junior sergeant, one step above a corporal.

³ Kiddo.

⁴ Yes, I know it's a different truck type than in the first photo.