Death Stalks the Ruins

(Source)

SS-Rottenführer¹ Egon Ehrenfeld scanned the town of Rüthen from his perch in the water tower on the southern edge of the town. He had volunteered for this mission which was very simple, report on the American advance and delay them as long as he could.

Ehrenfeld was from this area and had visited Rüthen many times before the war. He was saddened by the fact that most of the town had been reduced to ruins, he was surprised that the old water tower, built in 1909, was still relatively intact. He would use that to his advantage.

Ehrenfeld was 21 years old, he had been nine when Adolf Hitler and the National Socialists had come to power in 1933. He had been a member of the Hitler Youth and had joined the Waffen SS as soon as he had turned 18 in 1942. His father, a local Party official, had managed to keep him out of the hands of the Wehrmacht and conscription. Papa had been so proud when his boy was accepted into the SS.

It was a cloudy day, rather windy and a bit cold, but not unexpected in this area for early April. He was happy that it wasn't raining, a common feature of the weather in early spring. He rather wished that he had donned his Zeltbahn before taking up his position as his camouflage smock and woolen tunic weren't really keeping him warm. But he'd been colder in Russia, much colder. Besides which the Zeltbahn made a very nice rest for his scoped K98k.

As he studied the terrain to the east, he saw movement on a rise about 2 kilometers from his position, tanks and halftracks, American tanks and halftracks.

(Source)

1st Lt. Stephen Hernandez was sitting on top of the turret of S/Sgt Brad Woodstock's tank, 'Catamount.' Woodstock was inside at the moment, trying to figure out what was going on with his radio. After a few moments he came up in his hatch.

"Geez, looks like a flaky switch, if Blaisdell holds it down, it works fine, let go and we can't transmit. I'm going to switch over to Harrell's tank, he ain't gonna like it, but Hell, I'm the platoon commander, I need good comms."

Hernandez jumped down with Woodstock, briefly told his platoon sergeant what was going on, then waited for Woodstock to take over 'Misfit II' and resume his place at the head of the column. As he waited he looked towards the town ahead, according to his map it was called Rüthen. He brought his field glasses up and checked out the town. He saw a tower, pretty banged up, but if there were Krauts in the town, they'd have a guy up there.

Ehrenfeld watched the two men on top of the lead tank for a few moments. Then, realizing that it would be a while before that group would be a threat, he scanned around the town once more. He didn't really have a good view to the north, but that wasn't his sector anyway, he did have excellent views to the east, the south, and the west.

To the west were the remnants of Army Group B, holding the Ruhr for whatever reasons still made sense in the Third Reich. The Ruhr was the industrial heartland of the Reich, but if it was surrounded, of what use was it?

Ehrenfeld had no illusions regarding his survival. He was a member of the Waffen SS, he had seen atrocities in the East and here in the West. He was guilty of participating in atrocities. While he felt that his oath compelled him to obey the orders he was given, regardless of how the world may view that, he did feel a certain amount of guilt over what he had done.

But the bottom line was that everything he had believed in since he was a child was being swept away. What kind of world would follow the war? He didn't know but he was also quite sure that he wouldn't live to see it.

Checking that rise again, he noted that the Americans were moving again. Probably planning on traveling up the valley of the Möhne River, which would place them in range within the next fifteen minutes or so.

He would wait. He was ready.

Woodstock knew the men in his platoon well, still he wasn't as comfortable with Harrell's crew as he was with his own. But he needed a working radio, so he had switched mounts. He noticed that Cpl. Bill Simpson, though a competent driver, wasn't nearly as smooth on the gears and on the steering levers as his own driver, Cpl. Will Harness. Then again, Misfit II was a brand new tank whereas Catamount had seen a lot of war so far. Maybe that's why Misfit II felt a little stiff.

He was glassing the road which ran along the river, it looked clear, if it was mined, it wasn't obvious. He rather wished they had some engineers along, but maybe Hernandez wouldn't mind having his guys dismount and have a look. Didn't hurt to ask.

Sgt. Charlie Gammell climbed down from his halftrack and heard Pvt. Carl Wiggins bitching, again.

"Why do we have to check the damn road, ain't we got engineers to do that kind of thing?"

"Carl, quit your bitching. You know what to look for, it's a paved road, it's in pretty decent shape, just look for trip wires, funny looking areas in the pavement, anything out of the ordinary. The Krauts have been on the run and they didn't plan on having us come at them from the east, most of the defenses are in the west. We should be good, but the tankers want us to have a look anyway. You probably won't set off an AT mine, so stop worrying."

"Probably Sarge? Really? Probably?" Wiggins wouldn't let it go.

"Get to it."

Gammell was looking around, he could see the top of that tower he'd noticed when they were up on the hill. Good spot for a sniper. He thought for a moment, then acted.

"Posey, on me. We're going to have a look-see at that tower. Frank, you've got the squad, we'll be back shortly."

"Got it Sarge." Cpl. Frank Barnett was the assistant squad leader, and he was proving to be a good one. Gammell knew he was leaving the men in good hands. Besides, his little excursion wouldn't take nearly as long as it would to check the road for mines.

Pvt. Ross Flowers hustled over, then he and Gammell set out for another spot of high ground just ahead and on the right. Before leaving, Gammell had grabbed the spare walkie-talkie out of the halftrack.

"Hhmm, what's this?" Ehrenfeld muttered to himself as he saw two men separate from the squad near the halftrack. He lost sight of them as they went into the woods just behind the next rise over. The Amis were getting close.

Maybe it was time to have a little fun with them.

"Holloway, Quinn, Noble, you guys check the left side, Walter, Wiggins, MacTavish, you guys got the right. Haskell, get the spare field glasses out, keep an eye on that tower. I feel like we're being watched, I don't like it."

"Geez Corp, that tower has gotta be close to a mile away. Kind of a long shot for a sniper don't ya think?" Pvt. Billy Zerbst liked to ask questions, sometimes they were good questions, this seemed like a good question.

"Yeah, it's a long shot, but I've seen guys take that shot. Sarn't Gammell could make that shot. I doubt anybody would open up on us from there, especially with that .50 cal mounted on the track. He might not be able to hurt us at that range, but we sure as Hell can ruin his day."

No sooner had those words left Cpl. Franklin Barnett's mouth then his helmet went spinning from his head. It was a glancing blow, the range was too far for the German bullet to penetrate Barnett's helmet, but it knocked him to the ground, stunned.

While two men dragged Barnett out of the road, and the other members of the squad went to cover, Pvt. Ken Buchanan moved the halftrack into a position to cover the other squad members and where Pvt. George Haskell, manning the .50 caliber Browning on top of the halftrack, could better see the top of the tower. Haskell racked the bolt back on the big gun, then he depressed the butterfly trigger.

His first few rounds were low, he could see the tracers skipping off the masonry on the tower, he adjusted and started putting rounds into the opening near the top of the semi-ruined tower. He fired deliberately, short bursts, eventually he had to stop firing and load another box of ammo. There was no return fire from the tower.

Ehrenfeld had lowered himself from the top of the tower, planning to use another opening about 10 meters below the top, just as he began to slide over to that other opening he could see and feel rounds hitting on the outside of the masonry, not far from the opening he planned on using. Had he been spotted?

Then he was showered with debris coming down from the top of the tower, bits of masonry and wood, as the American machine gun began to hit the spot where he used to be. Sounded like a 12.7 mm gun, the Russians had those, nasty guns, a big round, he'd seen friends hit by one of those. Left a mess.

Flowers had nearly jumped out of his skin when the .50 started firing, for some reason he hadn't expected that. He was watching Sgt. Gammell's back when he heard the sergeant mutter, "Got you!"

Ehrenfeld saw movement from the corner of his eye, he ducked back from the opening just in time. A bullet hit the masonry right where his head had been a moment before. He had to pause and wash his eyes out, bits of dust and grit had gotten into them from the ricochet. At least now he knew where those other two men were, roughly. One of them was a damned fine shot!

"Shit." Gammell muttered as he began to move. Flowers knew to follow without asking. For a sniper to stay in one place was like asking to die.

Gammell moved up the hill and back a ways, he lost sight of the tower almost immediately, which meant that whoever was up there had lost sight of him as well. So he hoped.

"Scheiß drech noch mal!²" Ehrenfeld lost sight of the two Americans as they scrambled to his left. He was observing through a small hole which he couldn't shoot through but which gave him another angle of view. As there was no fire from the halftrack down on the road (he still couldn't believe he'd hit that soldier from nearly 1200 meters away) he decided to take a chance on the top of the tower once more. Different spot, same level.

Barnett was sitting up now, he had a massive headache, but was otherwise okay.

"Sumbitch rang my bell good. Did ya get him Georgie?"

"Nah, but I made him shift position. He went down lower I think. Sarn't Gammell took a shot, I heard his rifle. Should I hold off, let the Sarge take him?" Haskell asked his corporal.

Barnett answered, "Yeah, but keep your eyes on that tower, anything moves, shoot. The rest of you guys, get back on the road, check for mines. If that guy shoots again, it'll probably be at Haskell!"

Haskell gave his corporal a look, then nodded, it made sense, you go for the biggest threat, which might be him on the .50, might be Sgt. Gammell up on that hill. If the Kraut showed himself, he'd nail him.

Ehrenfeld was near the top of the tower again. He carefully checked his surroundings, as near as he could tell, he was safe from observation to his left, too many trees. So he put his scope on the road again. Yes, the mine hunters were back at work, time to drive them back to cover.

As always, when he squeezed the trigger, the recoil surprised him.

Pvt. Jesse Noble swore as a bullet skipped off the pavement near his foot, the squad dove for cover once more. This time Haskell didn't return fire immediately, he couldn't see anything to shoot at.

"Hold still you bastard," Gammell breathed out then squeezed his trigger. The tree cover was fairly thick here, lots of pines, but there was a slight wind which was causing the branches to move, giving him occasional glimpses of the top of the old tower.

During one of those glimpses, he'd seen movement, something there, so he fired.

Ehrenfeld couldn't believe how intense the pain was. The bullet had gone into his left side, just below the armpit. The impact had knocked the wind out of him and caused him to drop his rifle. He had seen his cherished K98k slide through the opening to fall to the ground below. He had carried that rifle since late-43. He had, he figured, some 52 kills with that rifle.

Now he was having trouble catching his breath. He reached over with his right hand and touched his side, his hand came back drenched with blood. He tried to rub it off on his trousers.

If only he could catch his breath...

Gammell's squad and Woodstock's tanks had cleared the road into Rüthen, the only resistance they had encountered was that single sniper. There had been other Germans in the town, but they had pulled back to Warstein, the Ruhr Pocket was starting to collapse.

Gammell had climbed the tower with Flowers, the L.T. had given his blessing. He had told them to hurry though, they were pulling out and heading east, deeper into Germany. Other units would reduce the pocket, the Big Red One was needed for the drive deeper into the Reich. Perhaps even into Czechoslovakia.

Gammell squatted down next to the dead man, his eyes were still open, his helmet was off to one side. He wasn't a kid, but he wasn't old either, bright blue eyes and bright blond hair, a poster child for Hitler's SS.

"Why didn't he wait Sarge? Let us get closer, he could have killed a few of us."

Gammell pointed to a field phone nearby. "Guy was probably reporting on our progress, probably had orders to slow us down, then pull out. We were lucky I guess. I just had a momentary glimpse of the guy's back. But I hit him square."

"Yeah, you did Sarge, nice shot."

"Hhmm." Gammell reached down and closed the German's eyes. Then patted the corpse on the shoulder. Gammell muttered something, which Flowers thought he heard, but didn't understand. Flowers held his tongue though, it seemed out of place to say anything.

Later, when they were back on the ground and with the platoon, Flowers asked Sgt. Katz a question. He knew Sgt. Katz was really smart, if anyone knew, it would be him.

"So Sarge, what's a Valhalla?"

Katz turned to look at the young private, "Valhalla's a place, not a thing. Well, it's a mythological place, not real. Why do you ask?"

"Just something Sgt. Gammell said when he closed that Kraut sniper's eyes."

"He did what?"

"He closed the guy's eyes, they were open, ya know, staring at nothing. I remember Sgt. Gammell saying once, that after you kill a deer, you had to do something to respect the dead animal. You took it's life, you at least acknowledge that. Some weird Vermont deer-hunting shit I guess." Flowers shook his head, he wasn't a hunter, what would he know about it?

"What exactly did Sarn't Gammell say, Posey?"

"Sounded like, 'See you in Valhalla.' What does that even mean?" Flowers asked.

"You know who the Vikings were Posey?"

"Yeah, guys raided England and stuff, back in the old days."

"Well, they had a lot of myths, one of 'em was about Valhalla. It's a place where warriors went after they had been killed in battle. Spent close to eternity drinking and carousing all night, then fighting all day. Until everything ended, the whole world. Odd that Sgt. Gammell would say that."

"Yeah, I guess so. Sgt. Gammell has his ways, ya know?"

"We all do Ross, anything to try to keep our sanity."

As Katz walked away, Flowers realized that that was the first time anyone in the platoon had called him by his first name.

Quite a day.

Later, when they had bivouacked for the night, Sgt. Katz stopped to talk with Sgt. Gammell.

"Valhalla, Charlie? You believe that stuff?"

"My Dad's mother, my grandmother, was from the old country, Norway. She told me lots of stories when I was a kid. Odin, Thor, Loki, Valhalla, and what the Germans are experiencing now, sort of."

"What's that?"

"Ragnarök. The end of the world, at least I'm sure that's how a lot of Germans feel right now."

"They brought it upon themselves Charlie."

"I know that Cat, believe me, I know."

"So you buy into that Norse stuff?"

"Hey, I grew up with those stories. My bestemor, my paternal grandma, kind of believed. Sure she was raised Christian, but her grandparents believed in the old ways. Lot of great stories she told me back then."

"That's some scary shit, Charlie."

"No scarier than this war. It bothers me to have to kill people, but I'll do it, so me and mine can get home again."

"I hear you Charlie. I hear you."

¹ Corporal

² F**k it again!

Link to all of the Chant's fiction.

What took ya so flippin' long?

 "Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the government for a redress of grievances." 

I'd be willing to bet most of this blog's regulars knew what the rest of that first sentence was no later than the 4th word.  I'd also be willing to bet those same folks could recite the rest of it faster than they could read it.  

This has been gnawing at me for over a year now.  During that time, I've been to exactly two Masses, last Christmas and yesterday, Easter Sunday.  Given that our Archbishop gave a dispensation for people over age 65 removing the requirement to go to Sunday Mass, initially, it made sense not to go.  

Source

At the time, nobody, not even that person with fecal matter in his cranium who is the Chief Medical Advisor to the President, knew what the Wuhan released virus effect would be.  Of course that didn't stop any of them from pontificating.  "Two weeks to flatten the curve."  I had my doubts, but we live out in the country, we're pretty well stocked with frozen and canned goods, so I'll go along.  

But, and it's a big one, then they started adding on requirements to "flatten the curve".  Masks being a particular bugaboo for me, but the one that really sticks in my craw was the limitations on how many people, if any, were allowed to assemble.  I could deal with masks albeit mumbling something about Bovine Excrement sotto voce (sometimes not so "sotto").  I also didn't much mind social distancing.  

The limitation of number of people attending something,  set to 50 initially then reset to 100 (how flippin generous of them), really set my molars to grinding. How is that NOT  prohibiting the free exercise thereof  and/or violating  the right of the people peaceably to assemble? 

As an aside, I learned something while researching this, because I've heard people say "Congress isn't doing this, the State/County/City is".  I'd always wondered whether that was true.  It's not and hasn't been since Cantwell vs Connecticut in 1940, where the Supreme Court (back when they had backbones) ruled that " due to the Fourteenth Amendment, the Free Exercise Clause is enforceable against state and local governments". Something to keep in mind the next time some 'Karen' is shrieking at you.

Stay on Target, juvat.

Target, aye, Sarge!

Most of the time, I'm social distancing normally.  I'm not a fan of large crowds, and I REALLY don't like being shoulder to shoulder with strangers in large crowds even before WuFlu hit.

But, the one place this restriction really set me off was in applying it to Religious Services.  Now, I'm not sure exactly how many square feet our church has, but it's very large.  It'll seat way more than 100 people with 6' spacing. More if families sat together.  But, nope, 100 max says the "Masters".  100 people, AKA 25 families of 2 adults and 2 kids.  

Couldn't make myself believe it was more important for me to go to Mass than the family I would be displacing.  So, with the exception of Christmas, I didn't.

Missed it quite a bit.  Spent a lot of time walking around the property talking aloud to the Big Guy, but it wasn't the same. I also demonstrated my displeasure by asking Mrs J to transfer our automatic deposits from our Church to Cross International, a charity we'd already been supporting, just now with some more bucks.  

Then on March 2nd, Governor Abbot opened up the state, no more mask mandate, no more size restrictions, no more social distancing mandates from the state gummint.  Halleluiah!

Not so fast, juvat.  

Seems, the powers that be in the Archdiocese  of San Antonio apparently wanted those restrictions to remain in force.

Archbishop Gustavo Garcia-Siller
Source

So, the reservation system for attending Mass remained in effect, max attendance was limited to 100 and I remained home.  I'm Bummed.

As I wrote last week, DIL arrived back home and Mass came up in conversation as Easter (THE Christian Holyday, not a misspell in my book) was coming.  She had received an E-mail from the Parish with available Masses, and a link to register.  We opted for the 8AM Mass, but when she clicked the link, all Masses were full.  It was less than an hour after registration opened.

I'm still bummed, and the conversation during my solo walk revolved around "Why are they limiting attendance, when there's no mandate to do so?"  The only answer I could/can come up with is "Because you don't have power if you don't use it."  

Fortunately, last Thursday, word got out that there were to be no limit on people attending,  However, masks would be "required" and social distancing would be "maintained".  I figured we'd still go to the early Mass and get there about a half hour early, that should suffice.

I was wrong.  We got there about 7:35, the Church was full.  As I looked around, I noticed that there must be some really large families in the Parish, as there were very few 6' distances between the folks in the pews.  Most had masks, but a significant number did not.  

We attended in the overflow area in the Parish Hall and watching Mass on a movie screen wasn't quite as moving as actually being in the Church, but it is a step in the right direction.  

The powers that be, whether in gummint, big tech, entertainment or religion, are making huge mistakes based on bad assumptions and the backlash is coming.  "Just say No" is going to take on a whole new meaning when it does.

Never give Up, Never Surrender!

Why seek ye the living among the dead?

The disciples Peter and John running to the tomb on the morning of the resurrection.
Eugène Burnand

Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene went to the tomb and saw that the stone had been removed from the entrance. So she came running to Simon Peter and the other disciple, the one Jesus loved, and said, “They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we don’t know where they have put him!”

So Peter and the other disciple started for the tomb. Both were running, but the other disciple outran Peter and reached the tomb first. He bent over and looked in at the strips of linen lying there but did not go in. Then Simon Peter came along behind him and went straight into the tomb. He saw the strips of linen lying there, as well as the cloth that had been wrapped around Jesus’ head. The cloth was still lying in its place, separate from the linen. Finally the other disciple, who had reached the tomb first, also went inside. He saw and believed. (They still did not understand from Scripture that Jesus had to rise from the dead.) Then the disciples went back to where they were staying. John 20:1-10 (NIV)

He Is Risen...

Fanatics

(Source)

Sgt. Brad Winkler had just the top of his head exposed above the hatch ring. He didn't want to have to rely on his vision slits, but he didn't want to expose too much of himself either. Snipers loved exposed tank commanders. His tank, "Boozer" was in the lead, 3rd Platoon was with the point element with the other tanks of Woodstock's platoon interspersed with the infantry.

3rd Platoon's lieutenant had been relieved of his command, now S/Sgt Bob Poole was running that outfit. Sometimes the new lieutenants thought that they knew more than they did, though things were quiet, there were still some diehards out there who wanted to kill Americans. Mostly SS, but the occasional band of paratroopers would put up a fight, most of the German Army types were content to surrender.

As Boozer rumbled down the small farming track, Winkler spotted some men coming out of a field to the right of the road waving at his tank. He pulled his field glasses out and studied them.

Bedraggled, no two men seemed to be wearing the same kit, some had helmets, some wore soft caps, and there were two varieties of those, some had no headgear at all. One man was holding a white rag on a stick, all had their hands in the air.

"Dilf, stop!" He ordered his driver, Cpl. Herman Dilfer. Boozer quickly came to a stop she was only traveling about 2 mph, Winkler didn't want to tire out his infantry support by rolling any faster than that. He looked to the rear, S/Sgt Poole already had his men deploying to either side of the road in a loose skirmish line.

When Winkler turned back to the front he told his gunner, Cpl. Jeb Nagel, "Jeb, keep an eye on that tree line, I don't want any surprises."

Shortly after he had said that, a line of tracers reached from the trees and passed through the surrendering Germans, tumbling over a number of them. Without a word, Winkler felt the turret slewing to engage the people firing. Nagel was on them in seconds, the coaxial machine gun firing, followed an instant later by a high explosive shell flying downrange to explode in the trees.

"HE up!" announced the loader, Pfc. Willis Hornsby. Without a word from Winkler, Nagel fired again.

Winkler looked to his right, Poole had a squad moving up to check out the tree line, it looked like they had suppressed or destroyed the enemy machine gun, but they kept the gun trained on that spot anyway.

After a few long minutes, the squad Poole had sent forward signaled the all clear. So Boozer began to advance again, two squads in support. Winkler was already on the radio reporting the encounter.

Pvt. Mathew Flores from 2nd Squad reported in to S/Sgt Poole, "Jefe¹, more of those SS bastards, two guys on the MG, we followed a blood trail back into the woods, the other guy didn't get very far, we found him dead. As near as we could tell, it was just the three guys."

"All right, thanks Matty, go back and tell Sgt. Russell to hold where they're at, we'll be moving as soon as I sort these Germans out, some of 'em are untouched, a few of 'em are wounded." Poole watched as Flores jogged back out to rejoin his squad. Doc Hood was working on the German wounded.

Poole had counted seventeen Germans, six of them were dead, two more had died of their wounds, four men were unscathed, one man had a slight flesh wound. Doc was trying to save two of the more badly wounded ones with the help of a German medic. He was about to have his radioman, Lou Hess, translate for the Kraut medic, but as he walked over to the two men, he could hear the German speaking English. It sounded odd because he spoke with a British accent.

"Doc, what's the scoop?" Poole has worked for a small town newspaper before the war, he liked the jargon of the newsroom.

Hood sat back on his heels and looked up, "Lou, get on the horn, we need a truck to evacuate these wounded, don't tell 'em they're Krauts."

"What if they ask?" Hess wanted to know.

Hood looked at the wounded Germans, the oldest one couldn't have been more than eighteen. "If they ask, they're wounded kids." Then he looked at his platoon leader, "Well, it's the truth isn't it?"

Suddenly the German medic swore and sat down in the road, throwing a bloody wad of bandages onto the shoulder.

"Fritz?" Doc Hood looked at the man.

"I couldn't save him, he lost too much blood, the damage was just too severe. Dwayne, he was only seventeen. Just a boy." Poole guessed that the two medics had introduced themselves, at first he'd assumed Doc was calling the man 'Fritz' because that's what they typically called a German. One German was Fritz, collectively they were Fritzes.

A Dodge weapons carrier was coming down the road at speed, the guy driving braked hard, kicking up a lot of dust. The driver of the weapons carrier, a T/5,² protested as soon as he saw that the wounded he was supposed to pick up were German soldiers.

"Nobody said nothing about picking up no Krauts!"

S/Sgt Poole looked briefly at the driver, then turned and called over Pfc. Ronald Donovan. "Ron, ride back with this guy and keep an eye on the prisoners. I don't think they'll try anything, but..."

"Got it Sarge." He began to help the Germans onto the vehicle, the driver began to protest again.

Poole walked over to the man and leaned in close to his ear, whispering something. The man went pale then mumbled something and climbed back into his truck. Within minutes the truck was headed back to the battalion aid station.

"What did ya tell him Sarge?" Doc Hood asked.

"I told him that I'd give one of the Krauts his carbine and let them decide where he was going to go, and with who."

"Seemed to work."

"Yup, usually does.

Poole had his men wrap the dead Germans in their shelter quarters, they all had one, and line them up just off the road. With the exception of one sergeant, the Germans were all very young. He looked off at where the SS had been set up. No doubt the Army guys were supposed to open fire on the first Allied unit that came down the road, then the SS would open fire. He guessed that the SS also had orders to shoot anybody trying to surrender.

He was determined to do the same for any SS trying to surrender. Some might call it murder, Poole thought of it as 'field justice.' He certainly wouldn't lose sleep over it.

Nor would any man in 3rd Platoon after the events of the past two days.

¹ Boss, Spanish.

² Technician Fifth Class, equivalent to a corporal

Link to all of the Chant's fiction.

It Is Finished...

 After this, Jesus, knowing that all things were now accomplished, that the Scripture might be fulfilled, said, “I thirst!” Now a vessel full of sour wine was sitting there; and they filled a sponge with sour wine, put it on hyssop, and put it to His mouth. So when Jesus had received the sour wine, He said, “It is finished!” And bowing His head, He gave up His spirit. John 19:28-30 (NKJV)

Lest we forget...

It Ain't Over Yet...

(Source)

Sgt. Lucas Cole was moving down a road with his 3rd Squad of the 3rd Platoon. At the moment they were in reserve, about 50 yards behind 2nd Squad. Sgt. Cliff Davis's 1st Squad was on point about a hundred yards ahead. 1st Squad had just gone around a bend in the road and were obscured behind a small woodlot when Cole heard a burst from what could only be a German machine gun.

Cole got the squad ready to move up as needed. As he did so, he heard a flurry of fire from American rifles, then, within minutes, artillery was screaming overhead. After a series of explosions, the gunfire stopped and the platoon began to move again.

As they rounded the corner Cole saw what he had hoped to never see again, American soldiers down in the road, two sprawled lifelessly where they had been hit and another being worked on by Doc Hood.

"2nd Squad, move up, take the point, 3rd Squad, hold up here!" 2nd Lt. Damian Lott redeployed his platoon and then got on the radio to Company.

"Send the tanks up, we hit an MG nest, I've got two KIA and one wounded. We need the tanks Cap'n! Sarn't Poole, take the BDs and check out that Kraut position!"

S/Sgt Bob Poole and the five Basic Duty privates, Lott liked calling them 'the BDs,' headed across a small field to a burning farmhouse, the building had been wrecked by the artillery. Cole guessed, correctly, that the Germans had been in there.

2nd Squad was out in front now, Cole decided to get his guys out as flank security, 1st Squad was, to say the least, rattled. Moments later, one of the BDs, Pvt. Abel Simpson, came jogging back.

"Three dead Krauts L.T., f**king SS. No sign of anyone else." Simpson stopped talking when he heard the tanks coming, he was wondering, as were others in the platoon, why the tanks hadn't been up front in the first place.

Pvt. Dwayne Hood, the medic attached to 3rd Platoon came over to the lieutenant and said, "Ellis is stable, we need to get him back to the aid station quick. It was a through and through but there's lung involvement."

Lott nodded at his radioman, Pvt. Louis Hess, and then said, "Who'd we lose?"

Doc Hood looked at the two dead men sprawled in the road and said, "John Malcolm and Curt Bixby, Malcolm was dead when I got here, head wound, Bixby lived for a few seconds, that Kraut gun laid him open bad. I'll wrap 'em up, we got a jeep coming up Lou?"

The radioman nodded, "Be here in five."

Cpt. Tony Palminteri showed up in his jeep as the casualties were being loaded, right behind him were the tanks of S/Sgt Bradley Woodstock's detachment from C Company of the 745th Tank Battalion. The captain was not happy. As soon as he had dismounted from his jeep, he beckoned Lott over.

"Walk with me lieutenant."

When they were out of earshot of the platoon, Palminteri turned to Lott, "Mind explaining to me why you didn't wait for your armored support lieutenant?"

Lott noted that the captain was making a point of addressing him by his rank, not his name. He paused for a moment, then answered, "I had my scouts out, things were quiet, so I figured we'd move down the road a bit. Nobody noticed that farm house I guess."

"You guess lieutenant?"

"Sir, you're right, I f**ked up. Sarn't Poole warned me, I didn't listen..."

"And because you didn't listen, two of your men are dead, another is wounded pretty bad from what Doc Hood tells me. He might not make it. You more than f**ked up lieutenant, you failed your men. Climb in that jeep, for now you're relieved of your command."

"But Sir..."

"In the jeep lieutenant, the one with your dead and wounded. I want you to think on what you did to them. Yup, what you did to them. Go."

Palminteri waved S/Sgt Poole over. The sergeant suspected something was up when he saw 2nd Lt. Lott climb into the jeep with the casualties. Moments later the jeep turned and went back to the rear.

"What's up Sir?" S/Sgt Poole wondered what was going on.

"For now it's your platoon. Who's your guide?"

"Sgt. Owens..."

"He any good?"

"Sir?"

"Would he make a good platoon sergeant?" Palminteri was impatient, he wanted to talk to Woodstock before he headed back, find out where the f**k the tanks had been.

"Yes Sir, he's a good sergeant, the men respect him."

"Good, he's your platoon sergeant, you're the platoon leader. Any problems with that?"

"No Sir."

"Good, I need to talk to Woodstock but I want your platoon on point still. Now that you've got tank support the Krauts may be a bit more leery about engaging you. Keep your f**king eyes open, capiche?"

"Yes Sir."

"You left my boys out there on their own Brad, what's your excuse?" Palminteri was angry and it showed.

"Sir, these babies don't run on wishes, we needed fuel or we'd be right about here now, waiting for a fuel truck. I asked the lieutenant to wait, he said we could catch up. Hell, Poole warned the guy, he didn't listen."

"All right, heads up out here, a lot of the Krauts are giving up, they don't want to die any more than we do. But the damned SS are still fighting to the last man, you meet resistance, slam the bastards. Tank fire, artillery, paste 'em, they want to fight, we'll kill every last one of 'em. Poole's a good man, he knows what to do, work together. Remember if the enemy want to fight, oblige them, if they try to surrender..."

"Heat of battle, right Sir."

"Mind you, if they're trying to surrender, let 'em, but watch them like hawks. Had an incident over in 3rd Battalion the other day, some Kraut was just pretending to surrender, brought out a hidden pistol and killed one of our guys. SS bastard of course."

"Got it Sir. I doubt we'll take any SS prisoners, even if they want to quit, f**k 'em."

"Unofficially, I agree with you Brad. Just don't make it obvious."

"Got ya Sir."

As Woodstock's tanks took the lead, 3rd Platoon in close support, there was an air of anger about the unit. The infantry were ready for a fight, they wanted the war to be over, any German who wanted to keep it going would pay and pay dearly.

As the men moved up, past the blood pooled on the road, Sgt. Eddie Russell, 2nd Squad, passed the word, "No SS prisoners. Not now, not ever. Kill 'em all."

By the time the word got to the last man, Pvt. Eddie Harvey, it was down to, "Kill 'em all."

No the war wasn't over just yet.

Not by a long shot.

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Kriegsgefangene¹

(Source)

Von Lüttwitz stood at the fence - he, Sauer, and Heinrich had been put in the officers' enclosure, his men were on the other side of a double chain link fence, with perhaps two meters between the fences. Both fences had barbed wire on top, he hadn't noticed any dogs, he knew a German camp would use this area between the fences as a dog run, he hadn't seen any here.

He had expected it but he was still in a bit of shock from having his medals stripped from his tunic. The burly military policeman (MP) who had pulled his Knight's Cross from around his neck had done so with all the glee with which a particularly bad child would exhibit. The man had glowered at him, almost daring him to do something. His pistol had been taken away almost at the very moment of them being turned over to the men from the POW camp.

Leutnant Ralf Heinrich had protested loudly when one of the MPs tore the epaulettes from Heinrich's black Panzer tunic, then torn the Army Totenkopf patches off as well. A slap across Heinrich's face from the MP had almost caused Heinrich to strike back. Sauer had barked at him to stand at attention. Heinrich had immediately complied.

That was the first time von Lüttwitz had heard the phrase he and the other officers would become very familiar with, "F**king Nazis."

"Regrets Herr Major?"

"No, Manfred, but, well, yes, many, but not over our actions of the past few days. Look at the men, some don't look very happy, but most of them look relieved. They know that the retreating is over, the dying is over. They are going to survive. Things may be tough over the next few months, but I think the Amis will treat us well."

"Even these Ami Kettenhunde?"

"They're the same in any army, some are good, some are bullies, but in general, the Amis aren't a vicious people. At least not in my limited experience." von Lüttwitz sighed then looked at the sky, "I think it's going to rain."

As the rain started to fall, Sauer wondered how long they would be kept in these open enclosures. Not a single shelter in sight, open pit latrines, life wasn't going to be comfortable, but at least no one was shooting at them.

Situation on the 2nd of April 1945
1st Infantry Division is circled in red.
(Source)

Once again C Company was mounted in halftracks. The Big Red One was covering the left flank of the right pincer of the forces encircling what remained of the Germans' Army Group B. On paper that Army Group consisted of three armies - one Panzer, one Infantry, and one Parachute, between those three armies they controlled fourteen divisions.

On paper.

Most of those once proud divisions were little bigger than regiments. Many of the men in those divisions just wanted the war to be over. While Hitler might scream about fortresses and fighting to the last men, most of the troops had had enough. They were ready to quit.

Cpt. Tony Palminteri climbed out of his jeep and stretched his back, these roads were killing him. He looked over at his driver, Pfc. Clay Newton, and said, "Don't wander off too far Clay. Stretch your legs, take a nap if you want. We've got a few minutes before we push off again."

Then he turned to his radioman, Cpl. Jacob Winters, and said, "Get the platoon leaders up here with their platoon sergeants. We need to set up shop around here someplace, I want to have a look at the terrain and compare it to the maps we've got. I've seen no sign of the Krauts trying to escape out of this bag we've got them in, but you never know."

1st Lt. Stephen Hernandez was talking with his predecessor, 1st Lt. Nate Paddock. The two men had moved away from the column and were quietly enjoying the spring weather. It was a long few moments before Hernandez broke the silence.

"Ya know Nate, I think I'm going to stay in the Army when this is over. I had plans but..."

"It's got to be hard for you. I know Beth cared for you, a lot. I'm still shocked by her death. I'm not sure if Edith will ever get over it. They were close." Paddock sighed and looked down at the ground. He and Hernandez hadn't spoken much about Beth McGee's death. He'd talked to a couple of the guys in his old platoon, they said that Hernandez didn't let on that he was in pain, but as one of the men said, Hernandez was a lot quieter than he used to be, more intense in some ways.

"So you gonna marry Edith?" Hernandez had to ask.

"Well, I think there's an understanding there, you know, if we both survive the war..."

"Yup, Beth and I were serious, but decided to wait until after... Well, shit, there isn't going to be an 'after' for her, is there? Sorry Nate, it still hurts, I think it always will."

"Ya know Stephen, word at battalion is that they're considering you for a Silver Star."

"For what?"

"I don't know, something about arranging the surrender of an entire Kraut battalion. Regiment has had their eye on you for a long time. Division too. If you stay in, you might get to keep that commission too." Paddock looked at Hernandez, then said, "Don't take any stupid chances, okay. Your men need you, Hell the whole outfit needs you. This war is damned near over."

"I won't Nate, the only thing I care about right now is getting my boys home alive and in one piece."

(Source)

Every day saw more men being brought to what some of the men were starting to call 'The Zoo.' Von Lüttwitz and Sauer had been able to stay in touch with their men through the efforts of Hauptfeldwebel Klaus-Peter Keller. The Spieß had managed to organize a very efficient communications network in both the enlisted and the officer enclosures. Word had it that he'd convinced the American commander to let the men start building shelters.

Word also had it that the Spieß had pointed out to the American officer that the job could be very profitable for that officer. Keller had contacts in the region from before the war. The area occupied by the Allies needed rebuilding, why let the prisoners sit around idle all day? After all, the war was nearly over.

Somehow Keller had managed to recover von Lüttwitz's Knight's Cross from the brutal, and as it turned out not very bright, MP who had stolen it from him. As Keller said, "Hide it somewhere Sir. I don't think there will be any repercussions, but you never know."

"I shall find a safe place for it Klaus-Peter. How are the men?"

"Getting fat from the rations the Amis give us. Far better than what we've had for quite some time. Hopefully I can get them working soon, idle hands and all that."

"Indeed. Well..."

Von Lüttwitz was interrupted by an entire squadron of American twin engine bombers passing overhead. No doubt to strike some target in the Ruhr pocket. Von Lüttwitz waited until the noise had passed, then said to Keller, "What were we thinking when we started this war?"

"We weren't thinking Sir, not at all..."

¹ Prisoners of war

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