The Best Laid Scheme...

National Archives

S/Sgt. Bob Poole stopped and went to one knee, lifting his hand, then lowering it to one side, he signaled the leading element of 3rd Platoon to stop and take a knee as well. The men in visual range had already done so. Poole, the platoon sergeant was traveling with Sgt. Ed Russell's 2nd Squad, the lieutenant, 2nd Lt. Damian Lott, had wanted his most experienced sergeant up front with the point squad.

Lott hustled forward with his radioman, Pvt. Lou Hess. "Whaddaya got Bob?"

"I dunno Sir, something seems off, something ain't right, can't put my finger on it." Poole answered. "I sent Day and Flores up to check things out, get a closer look. Maybe I'm just a bit nervous about this whole, 'Hey, the Krauts in the town want to surrender' thing. Seems too pat, too phony, ya know?"

Lott was new, but he had learned to listen to his sergeants, he turned to the 2nd Squad leader, Sgt. Ed Russell and said one word, "Ed?"

"I feel the same lieutenant, something doesn't feel right."

Hess had anticipated his lieutenant's next move and had the C Company commander, Cpt. Tony Palminteri on the radio. "Cap, something's fishy, we're going to check it out."

Lott listened for a moment, then said, "Sounds good Cap. We'll hold here, I'll send one squad in to check it out."

Russell looked at his lieutenant, who nodded, and said, "Okay guys, on line, let's go in..."

Reinhard Becker watched from the ruins as the American patrol advanced slowly and cautiously towards him. He was very worried, he had nothing but bad news for them. He was also somewhat nervous as he recognized none of the men coming his way. He felt somewhat comforted when he saw the red numeral one on the shoulder of one of the men, but he would have felt better had these been the same men he had spoken to before.

He lifted the white rag he had tied to a stick out to his side, making sure he kept his body behind the remnants of the brick wall he was sheltering behind. He took a deep breath when one of the Americans saw the white flag and halted the others. The American was pointing his rifle in Becker's direction. Then he heard the American yell...

"Herauskommen!¹"

Slowly Becker stepped into the American's view. That man continued to point his rifle at Becker while one of the other Americans began to advance towards him, yelling "Hände hoch!²" Becker was resolved to not move a muscle, the Americans were obviously on edge.

When the man reached him, he grabbed Becker's arm and roughly shoved him towards the other Americans, shouting, "Raus! Mach schnell!³"

Pvt. Mathew Flores was being rather rough with the older German man who was clutching a white rag on a stick. For his part the older guy looked terrified. When Flores reached the lieutenant and his squad leader, he looked at the lieutenant's radioman and said, "Hey, Lou, you speak Kraut, right?"

"Yeah, some, my grandma always spoke German to me when I was a kid, my Dad's parents came from the old country. What do you want me to ask him Sir?" Hess looked at Lott, not sure what to ask the old German man.

"Ask him where the German soldiers are?"

After a brief exchange in German, Hess told Lott, "There was a lot of stuff going on last night Sir. The SS showed up and searched the town, the army guys who were here had to pick up stakes and move out."

"Ask him who the commander of the army soldiers was?" Lott had been briefed by the captain about the specifics of what C Company expected to find, but had not known much more than the German commander's name and his intention to surrender.

Another exchange in German, during the exchange Lott heard a name he recognized, "von Lüttwitz."

"Sir, the man says that the men who were in the town, 2nd Battalion of the 8th Panzergrenadier Regiment, commanded by a Major von Lüttwitz, were ordered out last night, sometime after midnight, he wasn't sure. He was awakened when he heard the tanks start up and..."

"Tanks?!" exclaimed S/Sgt Poole, "Nobody said anything about tanks!"

"Yeah, the Germans we were supposed to capture had two Panthers and a StuG." 2nd Lt. Lott explained to his platoon sergeant. It was an odd feeling knowing something that Poole didn't, that shoe was usually on the other foot!

"Anyway, Sir, the tanks starting up and moving out woke him up. He said that the SS brought in a bunch of trucks to move the army guys out. He overheard an argument between two of the German officers. One wanted to defend the town, but the SS officer told the army officer that his orders were to evacuate the town, the army guys were needed elsewhere, guy here says he thought he heard the town of Bergisch Gladbach mentioned."

"Hhmm, that's east of Cologne isn't it Bob?" Lott asked his platoon sergeant.

"Yes Sir, word I've heard is that the Krauts are going to turn the Ruhr into some sort of fortress. Maybe our Germans were sent there, Bergisch Gladbach is in that direction."

"Damn, the Cap'n is not going to be happy about this."

Major Jürgen von Lüttwitz and Leutnant Manfred Sauer were crammed into the back seat of a Kübelwagen with a very overbearing SS officer named Grüneberg. The man was drunk as was the other, more senior, SS officer sitting in the front seat next to the driver. The driver was also an SS man.

At first von Lüttwitz and Sauer had feared that the SS had gotten wind of their plan to surrender. But the presence of their two Panthers and the StuG at the head of the little column, as well as the fact that their men were riding in a motley collection of army vehicles and farming trucks behind them, all still bearing arms, and the lack of any other SS troops made them relax somewhat. They weren't in the clear just yet, but the SS officers seemed to think this whole trip was a great big adventure, they'd even offered von Lüttwitz and Sauer a bottle of wine, which the two army officers had declined. The two army officers also retained their sidearms, Sauer made a point of  holding his MP 40 in front of him and looked ready to use it. The SS officers were both too drunk to notice.

"So Major, why hadn't you moved your unit when everybody else pulled back?" The SS captain in the front seat didn't seem suspicious, just curious.

"We had no orders Hauptsturmführer, withdrawing would have been tantamount to desertion, yes?" von Lüttwitz stated that in such a way as to brook further no discussion of the matter.

"Ah, natürlich, Herr Major. We seem to have lost all tactical discretion these days, have to be a goddamned field marshal to move troops it seems. And then only with the Führer's blessing!" The SS captain drank from the wine bottle then passed it to his colleague in the back seat, "Sieg Heil, Roland. Sieg f**king Heil!"

The SS lieutenant, whose name apparently was Roland, laughed and shouted, bottle held high, "Sieg Heil mein Hauptsturmführer, long live the glorious f**king Third Reich!!"

"Sir?" Hess was trying to get his lieutenant's attention.

"What is it Lou?" Lott sounded somewhat exasperated, especially as Cpt. Palminteri had ordered 3rd Platoon to stay where they were, the captain was coming up. Lott wondered if the day could possibly get any worse.

"Sir, the old guy wants to give you a letter, but as you don't speak German, he wants to know if it's okay if I look at it. Apparently he was supposed to give it to the first officer he met. That's you Sir." Hess explained.

"Go ahead, give me the gist of it."

Hess spent a few moments reading the letter, he had to ask the Becker a question here and there, but eventually he was done and looked up at Lott.

"Well?"

"It's an apology Sir. Essentially this Major von Lüttwitz is sorry that he couldn't execute his side of things. The SS were here and were insistent on the Germans moving out. I'm guessing saying 'no' to the SS isn't a smart move. The old man says that the Krauts are hanging deserters whenever and wherever they find them. Von Lüttwitz lost two men a couple of days ago to the hangman, the old guy says they're still hanging from a tree just north of this town. He says that to cut them down is a hanging offense. Hell Sir, he says they're even hanging kids." Hess looked embarrassed for a moment. "Kinda makes me a little ashamed to have German blood in me Sir."

"Not your fault Lou, your grandparents had nothing to do with this, they got out before this happened. Ah, here comes the boss." Lott said as he saw Cpt. Palminteri, his radioman, and the First Sergeant coming up the road into town.

Von Lüttwitz was standing near the train his men had just boarded. They were on a siding deep in a small wood, waiting for dark.

They were near the small town of Ruppichteroth, according to the Reichsbahn people operating the train, they had a very circuitous route to follow that night, apparently the enemy air forces had destroyed a lot of track lately. No doubt to prevent movement of our forces, von Lüttwitz thought.

"We're going to try and get your company to Wuppertal, from there you're on foot. My orders only cover getting you to Wuppertal, then we're to return here for another load. If we survive that is." The railroad official then hurried away to make sure all was in readiness to depart. It was roughly an hour to full dark.

As Leutnants Sauer and Heinrich joined von Lüttwitz near the car the officers would be riding in, von Lüttwitz wondered how Heinrich managed to keep his black tanker's uniform so clean. Probably because he rode everywhere he went, was his thought. Von Lüttwitz, had he looked closer, might have noticed the oil and fuel stains evident from a closer inspection. There was a reason the armored crews wore black.

"Manfred, Ralf, a pleasant evening so far. Any grumbling from the men about our abortive scheme?"

Sauer spoke, "The men who know, and we tried to limit the spread of that information, appreciate the fact that we were willing to try and stop the killing. They know the war is lost, they don't wish to die for the Fatherland."

"How about the few diehards we sent off?" von Lüttwitz asked.

"Ah, they are none the wiser. They have returned and actually accomplished their mission, after a fashion."

"Sir?" Heinrich asked, a puzzled expression on his face.

"They actually met those SS men on the road, who stopped them and demanded their papers, of course. Which were in order. But they told the SS captain their mission, which was to find us a train, and that's why the SS came to our old location. So..."

"Did the three men return?" Sauer asked.

"Yes, they were on the train when we arrived, I saw them talking with the SS as we were boarding. I would keep an eye on them Manfred. They're in 3rd platoon, they were in the old Drilling platoon. Lot of former Luftwaffe in that outfit, Dicke Hermann  indoctrinated them well." Von Lüttwitz paused, lifted his cap and wiped the sweat from his brow with his jacket sleeve, it was a warm evening. Then he continued.

"They're all in the 3rd Platoon's headquarters. They've been together since before Köln as well., all are former Luftwaffe Flak troops. Ardent Nazis apparently. No one in their platoon likes them. At least according to their platoon leader, Unteroffizier Michael Böhm."

"Who are they?" Heinrich asked.

Von Lüttwitz pulled his notebook out, "Grenadiers Michael Wagner, Robert Otto, and Andre Lang. None of them have ever been decorated, according to their records, they are mediocre soldiers at best."

Sauer said, "Let me take care of them. Tonight."

Von Lüttwitz and Heinrich both looked at the former pig farmer, von Lüttwitz started to speak, "What do you..."

Sauer interrupted him, "You don't want to know Sir. Trust me."

Heinrich grinned and said, "I have to make sure my vehicles are properly secured, I was surprised that the station had the right setup to load armored vehicles. Good evening gentlemen." With a nod and a jaunty salute, the tanker disappeared into the gathering dark.

"He rather scares me at times." Sauer said.

"Heinrich? He's a choir boy compared to you Manfred."

"I don't like it anymore than you do Sir, but the men might suffer for those Nazi bastards'  attitudes and actions as the war comes to close, which I know must be soon. Would you rather I..." This time von Lüttwitz interrupted.

"Do what you must, I can help..."

"No Sir, I can take care of this myself. It's better that only one of us has German blood on their hands." Sauer stated with finality.

Von Lüttwitz remembered the flight across France, Manfred Sauer was a good man to have on your side, not a man you wanted as an enemy. But there seemed no other recourse.

He wanted his men to survive.

¹ Come out!

² Hands up!

³ Out! Move quick!

Link to all of the Chant's fiction.

The Plan

(Source)

"Herr Leutnant?" Hauptfeldwebel Klaus-Peter Keller leaned his head through the doorway as he spoke. He could see that Leutnant Sauer was busy, but what he had to tell him couldn't wait.

Sauer put the pen down he had been using to write up a report of the preceding day's activities, the war might be lost but the paperwork never ended, and looked up at his company sergeant major, the Spieß. "What is it, Klaus-Peter? Can't it wait?"

"No Sir, it cannot. We have a serious problem. The 3rd Platoon commander is here with his 2nd Squad leader. Seems that two of his men ran off, they were hanged by the Kettenhunde." Keller motioned for three men to come into Sauer's makeshift office. Unteroffizier Michael Böhm, commander of the 3rd Platoon, and Gefreiter Wilhelm Ziegler, the leader of that platoon's 2nd Squad came in, followed by a third man, a grenadier.

"Böhm, Ziegler," Sauer nodded brusquely at the two men then asked, "Who is this?" gesturing at the grenadier.

"Herr Leutnant, this is Grenadier Jochen Wagner, he went to relieve the sentry on the Hauptstrasse and no one was there. When he checked the duty roster at that post, he noted that Grenadier Jürgen Jäger was supposed to relieve Grenadier Steffen Krämer at 0400, when he reported this, and I looked around their bivouac, neither man was present. Ziegler is his squad leader. The two missing men are from his squad." Böhm nodded at Wagner.

"Sir, like the Unteroffizier said, when I went to take over the post the man who was supposed to be there was not, the man he relieved was also not there. So I reported this to Gefreiter Ziegler." Wagner seemed nervous, thinking that he could be in serious trouble.

"Böhm, how do you know your men were executed by the Feldgendarmerie?" Sauer asked.

"Sir, as my squad is responsible for the main road into town, the Feldgendarmerie came to the post there. I was with Wagner and Ziegler when the Feldgendarmerie came in a Kübelwagen, two men, one a Hauptmann the other an Oberfeldwebel. They asked me if I knew where the 5th Company of the 2nd Battalion was, I told them I was part of that unit. Then they handed me this..." Böhm handed over an official looking document to Sauer.

Sauer read for a few seconds, then handed the document to Keller, "Log this in, put it in the Company records. It's the official notice of the court-martial and execution of Grenadiers Jürgen Jäger and Steffen Krämer. Officially they were deserters. I'm sure the trial was brief, as in 'Where are your travel papers? Oh, you have none, guilty of desertion, that tree there looks sufficient.' Then those two were hauled kicking and screaming into the air. No doubt with the proper signage on their chests indicating their crime."

"Gentlemen, let me speak with young Wagner here for a moment." The other men all left, leaving Wagner alone in the room with Sauer.

"What's your name Grenadier?"

"Wagner, Jochen, Grenadier, Dienstnummer¹..." Wagner began but Sauer interrupted him.

"At ease, sit down Jochen, cigarette?" Sauer offered his own cigarette case as he gestured to the only other chair in the small room.

"Thank you Herr Leutnant!" Wagner answered formally, snapping his heels together before sitting down, at attention of course.

"Relax, I need to ask you a question. The men Jäger and Krämer, did you know them well?" Sauer sat on the other side of the table serving as his desk and lit a cigarette as well, he wanted Wagner relaxed. Hard to do, he remembered from the time when he had been a very junior enlisted man.

"Well, we had been in the same platoon, 4th Platoon, back when we had our Drillings,² but they were in another crew. I didn't like those men, all of them had been Hitler Youth. Begging the Leutnant's pardon, but I was raised Catholic, my parents didn't like the National Socialists. I had to join the Hitler Youth but was never enthusiastic about it. But Jäger and Krämer? They would have gone into the Waffen SS if they hadn't been drafted into the Luftwaffe first." Wagner was loosening up, he had heard that the Leutnant was a decent man, not a fanatic, in fact, some of the men were rather proud that their company commander had once been like them, a lowly private soldier.

"Luftwaffe? So they started life in the anti-aircraft business, eh?"

"Yes Sir, the Luftwaffe..." Wagner began, but Sauer stopped him.

"Yes Jochen, they did to be more politically aware, I know. Tell me, how many true believers do we have in the company? Would you know?" Sauer was taking a chance on this, but he thought he could trust Wagner to a certain extent. Especially when he noted that the boy still wore a crucifix under his tunic. He had glimpsed it when Wagner had leaned forward to stub out his cigarette. No Nazi would wear a symbol of the Church.

"I don't know everyone Sir, but not many, not anymore anyway." Wagner offered.

"I'm sure the enthusiasm has waned since we started to lose the war." Sauer probed.

"Lose the war, Sir?" Wagner took a deep breath, then threw caution to the winds, "the war was lost when the Amis broke through in Normandy. Except for brief pauses, we've been running ever since."

"Yes, that we have. Dismissed Jochen." Sauer watched as Wagner got up and turned to leave, then Sauer added, "No need to let everyone know about our little chat, yes?"

"Of course not, Sir."

Major Jürgen von Lüttwitz was sitting, deep in thought, waiting for the key people in the battalion to file in and find a place to sit. They were in a semi-destroyed Gasthaus, one wall was gone, parts of the roof were missing, but the building contained the largest room in the village so this was where the battalion headquarters was, at least for the moment.

Von Lüttwitz had had a messenger visit him just before dawn. The messenger relayed the news that the division was planning on falling back to the Ruhrgebiet, 8th Panzergrenadier Regiment, with its component battalions, was expected to step off the next day. There were, allegedly, trains standing by to haul the men and their remaining vehicles to the north.

Time was running out for him to make his move. He didn't want to see any more of his men die. He'd had enough of that. He looked up, everyone was seated, waiting on him to begin, he looked at Leutnant Sauer. Sauer nodded, so von Lüttwitz began to speak.

"As you know, the war is irretrievably lost, even though the idiots in Berlin refuse to recognize that. Our upper leaders here in the field also refuse to see the truth. We are defeated. All that remains is for more of Germany to be destroyed and for more Germans to die meaningless deaths. Not to mention the cost to the Amis and the Tommies, I don't think they will be very forgiving at losing men to defeat an army which refuses to lay down its arms. Thoughts gentlemen?"

Sauer spoke, "You all know my thoughts on this. You may not know that we sent two men into the American lines to be captured on purpose, so that we could relay a message to the Americans indicating our desire to cease the killing and surrender. We have received an answer from the Amis this very morning."

Von Lüttwitz looked at Sauer, this was news to him, Sauer explained, "The message came while you were with the messenger from Regiment. I won't give details on how we received the message, other than to say that a very brave villager came across the lines to deliver it, he returned to the Amis after he left his message."

"We have instructions?" von Lüttwitz asked.

"Yes Sir. Now as we all know, many villages have been hanging out white sheets, clothing, whatever they can find to indicate that the villagers give up, it also means, usually, that there are no soldiers remaining in the village. Obviously the Americans have been very cautious, the SS have used the white flags to lure the Amis in, then ambushed them."

"SS bastards!" One of the platoon commanders, Feldwebel Klaus Haasen, muttered under his breath.

Sauer nodded, "The American commander knows of this, he has communicated the idea that we hang a large national flag out of an upper story of the town hall. As if we intend to fight to the end. That's the signal. We hold our positions and wait. That's all there is to it, but..."

"What if someone decides to open fire?" Unteroffizier Thorben Haas, commander of the 2nd Platoon asked, "Are we ready to shoot some of our own to save the rest?"

Leutnant Ralf Heinrich, commanding the three armored vehicles attached to the battalion, spoke up, "I think we have identified the few diehards among us already. Two of them tried to report our plan to the authorities, who didn't believe them and hanged them as deserters. We spread the word of that among the men, most were happy to see the end of those two. Three men were not, they will be sent to Regiment tonight with orders to secure our places in the trains heading for Düsseldorf. It conveniently gets them out of the way. I think this plan will work."

"Will you be destroying your vehicles Leutnant?" Sauer asked that question, though he was ready to quit the fight, he had no desire to assist the Americans. Letting the two Panthers and the StuG fall into enemy hands was not an option.

"Yes Manfred, we will be positioned on the northern edge of the village, covering the sector facing the German lines. If anyone tries to approach we fire at them, to warn them off. The timing is going to be tight. We will not kill our fellow Germans, well, unless they are Feldgendarmerie, SS, SD, or GFP. Them I would relish shooting at. When the Americans arrive, we detonate charges to destroy our vehicles. It breaks my heart, but I won't see them in the hands of the enemy." Heinrich sighed, looked at the floor, then looked at the assembly and spoke one last thing, "I don't like this, but my men and I know the war is lost. We want to live, perhaps rebuild Germany some day. I don't know, but my wife Ilse writes me that things are bad on the home front. If the war continues much longer, who knows what will happen?"

Oberfeldwebel Georg Eichmann, the acting battalion sergeant major, spoke up, "Do we know anything about these Americans, are we surrendering to combat soldiers? I don't wish to surrender to clerks and cooks, not if I don't have to."

"They are the 1st Battalion of the 26th Infantry Regiment, part of their 1st Infantry Division, they wear a red numeral one on a green shield on their shoulder. We have faced them before, in the Hürtgen, in the Ardennes, at the Battle of the Crossroads, and again at Kreuzau. They are a crack division, one of the Amis' best. As good as, if not better than, our own Großdeutschland division." von Lüttwitz answered.

"So it's settled then. When do we do this?" Hauptfeldwebel Klaus-Peter Keller, 5th Company's Spieß asked.

"Tomorrow at dawn we put the Nazi flag out, then we wait. Spieß, I want all of the MG 34s and MG 42s collected tonight, delivered to battalion headquarters, the story is that the weapons folks are going to inspect and service them according to an order received from Army Group B, ordered by Generalfeldmarschall Model himself in preparation for our heroic defense of the Ruhrgebiet. That should keep anyone from getting too trigger happy. The Amis hear one of our machine guns, they don't ask questions, they call in artillery. Stress to your men that any sign of resistance and we will all be wiped out. The note from the American commander was clear on that." von Lüttwitz scanned the room one last time.

"If there are no questions, that is all. I will be making the rounds throughout the night, talking to the men, and to you. We make this work or we all will probably die. If the Amis don't kill us, our own side will. Hals- und Beinbruch, meine Herren!³"

As the others left to return to their units, von Lüttwitz murmured to his two lieutenants, "Manfred, Ralf, stay behind, I have some last minute details to cover."

(Source)

The officers and sergeants of the 2nd Battalion, 8th Panzergrenadier Regiment faced a long night, and a very uncertain future.

For them the war would soon be over, one way or another...

¹ Service number

² Sd.Kfz. 251/21, a halftrack mounting three 2 cm cannon.

³ Break a leg, gentlemen. That is, good luck.

Link to all of the Chant's fiction.

Courage

Source

Reading Sarge's blog post from Saturday made me think about those soldiers doing the right thing, and the mental wherewithal it takes for a person to do that.  Those Grenadiers ratting out von Lüttwitz and Sauer aren't the soldiers I was thinking about- they might have thought they were doing the right thing in their fanatical way, but that wasn't right from the Ami or the reader viewpoint.  What von Lüttwitz and Sauer were planning took tremendous courage.  It wasn't just to save themselves, but to save their entire unit.  

Courage today for the average person doesn't measure up to what they faced.  Think of actions a person might have to take that could be require tremendous courage- Standing up for someone or something that's right, maybe reporting some ethical breach, corruption, or fraud waste and abuse.  That could get you fired at worst, or maybe some social out-casting on social media (which isn't actually a bad thing).  Real life isn't like a Hollywood movie, where some evil corporation puts a hit out on a whistleblower.  But for German soldiers to stand up against Hitler or Nazi Germany, calling it out for the evilness that characterized it, or to say that the war was lost, would have taken an entirely different type of courage.  The result of that action, if unsuccessful, was surely death.  The only benefit from doing that, if it doesn't change hearts and minds, might come when one receives his heavenly reward.  However it's really tough to put earthly concerns aside when facing death, and it requires tremendous faith to do what's treasonous to German leadership, but right in the eyes of God.

Now I know von Lüttwitz wasn't exactly telling Hitler he was full of shit.  He was only saving his own ass, and the lives of his troops.  But he wasn't going to individually abandon his duties and surrender to the Amis, he was risking death by bringing his entire company with him.  That takes courage, and that's good writing- making us worry about a character who is on the wrong side of history.

I've often written about govt. ineptitude and waste, often what I see from afar, not necessarily what I'm directly exposed to in my job with the Navy. But there is some of that from where I sit. I don't have a guilty conscience about not reporting some low-level fraud, waste and abuse, or for horrible decisions on the part of Navy leadership when it comes to defense spending, system procurement or what have you -the things that are in my sphere of knowledge, familiarity, and interest.  But it's not because I haven't tried.  I've learned that some programs are too big to fail.  Our government is far too much in the pocket of big pharma, big corporations, and the defense industrial complex, to the point that there is always an ulterior motive behind our government's actions and our defense procurements.  I had a boss that said there are two reasons the military exists.  One is to fight and win our nation's wars, but the first is to employ our nation's workforce. That's why we get two classes LCS ships, to keep shipyards open.  That's why we have Joint Strike Fighters that cost 3 times what a single Hornet costs, why we always go for a quality that we can barely afford and eventually don't fully achieve, instead of quantity that has a quality all of its own. Eisenhower was right and that industrial complex throws money to the DC swamp like a drunken sailor on payday.  Congress exists not to write laws and help govern, but to redistribute taxpayer dollars to their own states, putting their own constituents to work.  And while there is a utilitarian goal of defending our nation, it really isn't.  They can't look further than their own state while doing so.  There's a reason we have the saying that all politics are local.

Source

Now that COVID is beginning to be less of an issue (I'm vaccinated, wife already had it), despite all the near non-stop fear-mongering in the news, I have started to make a list of all the things I want to do over the next year to make up for lost time.  Taking up the top five spots on that list is getting the hell out of dodge and going on vacation.  We have timeshare points with Marriott Vacations and we didn't get to use them much last year.  I plan to get my money's worth this year though with a few trips with family.  On the docket is a visit to Tahoe this summer with my wife's sister's family.  We will also get away from town next month to Palm Springs, on the heels of a big project I'm turning in the day prior, which will be a relief.  And I've booked a trip my wife has been wanting for several years- visiting the Caribbean, specifically Saint Thomas.  Right now they just require a negative test and masks everywhere.  Hopefully by the time we go, things will be much different, and proof of my two jabs will be enough, if at all.

Regarding that COVID fear mongering, I do wonder when we will start to see studies that say the likelihood of a vaccinated person being able to spread COVID is infinitesimal.  Until then there's no difference between being vaccinated or not- keep social distancing, keep wearing the mast, etc.  They claim it's because of the UK and South African variants.*  I'm not sure there is a big dark deep state government out there that wants to control us, as that seems a little conspiratorial.  But government can't help themselves.  When they believe it's their duty to attempt to save us from something, especially when the news sensationalizes it, they start "helping."  Therefore, we get a government that is too far reaching in their supposedly limited powers, forgetting that they work for us, and they don't rule us.

Source

I'm really tired of wearing masks and the mask police, and that claim that masking "shows you care."  The reason some some of my irritation about masks is that the statistics don't really support mask wearing (particularly cloth face coverings) which is not a statistically significant causal factor of anything. Never was. People keep saying things like, “We’ll see if this continues for the next few weeks, and then decide.” Its asinine. The results are not correlated.  Look at Texas.  They eliminated their mask mandate a few weeks ago, but Texans weren't beholden to them anyway, and cases of COVID-19 have decreased by 42.5%.  The positivity rate of COVID-19 tests has decreased to 5.8%, the lowest number since May 2020.  But people want to feel like “they care,” they want to “do something,” and they want to make sure others are “doing all they can.”  Hence our masking, govt shutting down everything, going trillions in debt, etc.  And masking is an easy cost-neutral demand which the govt loves to give us.

I had a discussion with a far left friend, who is at least polite in her dealings with me, willing to let me post my comments to counter her arguments, and vice versa.  The discussion was regarding entitlements and universal healthcare.  She tends to believe that the GOP is this uncaring institution, unwilling to take care of those most in need which is what we should do as job 1.  I said I agreed with her, as would most Americans, that we should care for the most vulnerable in our society.  How that should be accomplished is where the division lies.  Politics gets in the way, government does too.  That lends itself to fraud, and enabling those who could, but won't pull themselves up after using using that assistance.  As for improved healthcare, when corporate insurance remains the backbone of our medical system, I don't think govt can make it better without some serious reform, but then politics and money gets in the way of that.

I think there are plenty of politicians out there who have the courage required to do what is right- to criticize the debt we're taking on, or the weak science behind COVID precautions, the need to reform our insurance industry, to call out waste in our defense programs, etc., but they face an uphill battle.  I'm cynical as heck, but I have to hope and pray for things to improve.  That too takes courage I suppose.  We have to keep fighting the good fight, despite the difficult odds.  I think von Lüttwitz and Sauer's days of fighting are over, but hopefully their days aren't over.  I guess we'll find out soon enough.

*Wait, I thought calling it the China virus was racist- so why is the media calling the variants UK and South African?

Recruiting Duty

 When last we spoke, I had developed a diabolical plan to entice my plumber to rearrange his priorities to move my projects higher up in the list.  To this end, and the part that made it diabolical, I had intended to use his 5 year old son to influence his Dad.

Unlike most of my diabolical yet cunning plans, this one went off without a hitch.  In researching my subterfuge, I had come across a great website with a plethora of aviation related information including airshows and their schedules for the foreseeable future. Turns out there was one in a small town quite near us.  

So...I bent young Liam's ear about how AWESOME it would be to go to an Airshow and watch airplanes fly.  Liam, being 5, was a very hard sell on the idea.

OK, Not!

The following day, the plumber calls and asks if tomorrow will be ok for him to come and fix plumbing related issues.

VICTORY! 

So, Saturday we drive up to Burnet (BURN' it) Texas for the 29th (somewhat...this show was a reschedule of the 2020 show) annual Bluebonnet Air Show.

After getting our wristbands (there is an entry fee) we stopped by the Air Force booth.  (The Navy, Army and Marines were not interested in influencing young minds I guess as they were not represented by folks in uniform,  Although there were quite a few Old F*rts wearing various ball caps.)

One young Staff Sergeant (very young, he might have been two when I retired...maybe) offered Liam a chance to sit in an F-22.  He leapt at the chance.

We continued our stroll around the airfield when Liam encountered a nefarious type.

Yes that is an Air Force Lanyard Liam's wearing.

At that point, he caught sight of an actual Airplane.  I told him it wasn't really a Jet because it couldn't go supersonic and that's why airliners and A-10's aren't REALLY Jets.  He said that made sense.  

But, being the "Give a fella a chance" kinda guy I am, we walked over to the A-10.  I talked to the crew chief for a bit and in the process, asked him when the A-10 had gone back to a jungle camouflage paint scheme.  He said that this was the demo aircraft and was paying honor to the 355 TFW by painting it in the Vietnam Era F-105 paint scheme.  (The USAF A-10  Demo Team is part of the 355TFW based at Davis-Monthan AFB in Tucson. the 335 TFW had flown F-105D's at Takhli and is mentioned in Raz's book).  The Crew Chief said I'd understand a bit better if I took a look at the right side of the nose.  

There were several names their that I recognized and one Mrs J and I knew personally,  Left column of POW names, third down, was the Air Division Commander at Kadena when I was there flying the Eagle.  He was then BG Browning (or as I liked to refer to him..."Sir") and Mrs J was his Exec.

Shortly, after thanking the Crew Chief for pointing me to this, we were shushed off the flight line as the air show was about to start.

Needless to say, I took a boatload of pictures with my phone, none of which turned out to be very good, but the airshow itself was fabulous.  Most of my airshow experience has revolved around open houses at various bases where the flying part of the Air Show was the Thunderbirds or the Blue Angels.

Those are definitely cool airshows, but the flying part is generally over in about a half hour.  Flying started here at noon and went on nearly continuously for 3 hours.  Hosted by the Commemorative Air Force (Confederate Air Force no longer being PC), one of the first aircraft flown was a C-47 outfitted in WWII D-Day paint scheme.  It took a team of parachutists aloft and they jumped carrying a very large American Flag while the National Anthem played.

Damn! I loved that.  Most of the folks around me were singing along.  Made my heart glad, yes it did. Maybe, just maybe, there's still hope.

After the anthem, the MC described the significance of the C-47's during WWII in Europe and why they were marked up for D-Day.  He also described that this particular aircraft's role iwas to take part in the Night Parachute drop from 800 C-47's of some 13,000 GI's in the operation.

As the Lead Aircraft!  I felt a need to go and touch it later in the day.

About this time, I realized that taking pictures with a cell phone wasn't going to be all that "Special", so I started taking movies. 

They had At-6s flying formation.  That was cool, but they practice right over my house, just not as low.

They had a display of Forward Air Control (FAC) tactics with two O-1 Bird Dogs (painted up as L-19s).  They were accompanied by an O-2 painted in the paint scheme of  Night FAC from Vietnam. This portion of the show was accompanied by some pyrotechnics which had Liam jumping up and down, and me looking the wrong way each time they went off.  Since they went off with a bang and flames, my first thought started with "Oh, No...." 

Fortunately, all was well.

The afternoon went on and other aircraft performed.  There was a B-25 that flew over at the altitude the Doolittle raiders dropped from,  I knew they were low, but not THAT low.  the Pyrotechnics accompanying it were impressive also.  Again, the narrator did an excellent job of explaining the historic significance of the raid, it's effect on morale of both American and Japanese populace and the fact that while only 3 members of the raid died, all the planes were lost.

I had been taking movies for a while now.

Finally, there's one last performance before the A-10 demo. It's a performance by a former Air Force guy, who flies airliners now and, therefore, can afford his own aircraft, a Chinese Nanchang CJ-6.

Another interesting aspect of this airshow vs the one's I'd seen in the military, was there was a lot more low flying.  This shot is of the CJ-6 in the second half of a Cuban eight. (A Cuban Eight is a maneuver that looks like a figure 8 but rotated 90 degrees. ) He performed this maneuver over the airport which means, the crowd is on this side and the trees are on the other side.  The trees might have been 30' high.  

As I said it was a very exciting air show.  If you get a chance next year, you should attend.  Let me know and I'll go with you.

Unfortunately, because I'd taken so many videos (none of which turned out worth a darn), my battery died and I was unable to take video of the A-10 demo.  Suffice it to say, I'd flown with and against A-10s, but viewing the capabilities from the ground gave me a new respect for its maneuvering capabilities.  Having watched actual ground attacks while acting as a range officer on the gunnery range, there were several times I would have told the pilot to abort had this been demo'd with an F-4, too close and too low.  

Very impressive. 

That was the finale, so we loaded back up and headed home.  Liam's last words to me before he fell asleep in the back seat were "That was cool....I want to fly A-10's", 

Mission Accomplished! Now to find an F-22 Air Show!

The Pause That Refreshes

No war stories today, I gave the Muse a 48-hour pass as the weather here in Little Rhody was just too fine to spend time writing about war. Besides which, there is the "where do we go next" aspect to the story that I just haven't worked out yet. (Fear not, if I paint myself into a corner, I can find some semi-clever way out. Or something...)

But I digress, as I said, the weather, note the opening photo, was lovely. Lots of blue was to be seen from the cockpit of Blue. For those who may have forgotten, that is the vehicle which replaced Big Girl last year. Anyhoo, blue, the blue of Narragansett Bay, the blue of a New England sky, and (of course) the blue of my Honda Pilot. (Hey, if I can't be a pilot, I can at least drive a Pilot. Why I didn't name her Anjin-San, I really don't know.)

So what sparked this trip to go "oot and aboot" (as they allegedly say in the Great White Up)? Well, The Missus Herself stopped by the command center/computer room at Chez Sarge in the late morning and suggested an outing. As Blue needed fuel anyway, I decided, let's make it a refueling/pleasure cruise.

It's been a while since milady and Your Humble Scribe have made a visit to Colt State Park on the shores of Narragansett Bay. We often liked to go there and just sit and watch the seagulls, the waves, and other members of our own species enjoying a day on and by the water.

Pleasant it is, pleasant it was.

Though the temperature was a balmy 49°, the wind was, how you say, brisk. So while it looked pretty nice, it was definitely sweater weather. We did see one chap wearing a thick vest and shorts. He tried to make it look like he wasn't cold, but he just couldn't pull it off. The hands in the pockets and the hunching of the shoulders gave it away. Not to mention the shivering, yeah buddy, I saw that.

Did have one distressing fact brought home to me today that as I age, my visual acuity isn't what it used to be. Whereas once upon a time I could discern a mast on the horizon and say, "Why that's a Flight II Arleigh Burke making her way back to base," those days are, sad to say, no more. But the old Mark One Mod One (I've had some work done) eyeballs can still pick out such things that others might not notice.

Like tall spindly things on the horizon which seem to have movement of a rotational variety near the top. Having spotted such a thing I asked The Missus Herself, "Say love, do you see those tall spindly things on the horizon?"

"Where away?" asked the love of my life. (Yes, I paraphrase, she doesn't use nautical expressions as a rule, well, in fact never.)

"Why there m'dear, two points off the starboard bow, right on the horizon!"

"Nope, I see nothing..."

"Stand by!"

Pulling out the trusty cell phone camera, marvel of engineering that it is, I took the following photo (at 30 times magnification).

She looked then shook her head, "Sorry old chap, left me spectacles at home, I see sea, I see sky, and naught else." (Again, no, she doesn't really talk like that. I do, much to her chagrin when we're with company. Other than The WSO and The Naviguesser, who, God love 'em, appreciate my quirks, such as they are. The Nuke? Not so much, she being much like her mother.)

So when we got home, she fetched her glasses and said, "Wow, you could actually see those?"

I answered with a paraphrase of Pattonesque poetry, "Yes, as through a glass, and darkly, but see them I did. Oh look, there's some sort of communications tower as well!"

Yes, Dear Reader she did shake her head and walk away, but after forty-three years she's, as they say, "used to me." (Thank God, as I doubt any other lady on the planet could tolerate my occasional flights of fancy if not outright bouts of lunacy. Oh yes, I have my days...)

So sorry, me lads and lasses, no war stories today. We shall catch up with C Company and their German opponents on Tuesday. Unless Tuna decides he has something to share, for I promised him Tuesday when he took the King's Shilling, just as Juvat owns Mondays. Which is a good thing, gives me a break now and again.

Beans? He jumps in from time to time at random intervals. He's kinda like the weather, only not nearly as predictable.

Speaking of weather, damned lovely it was on Saturday.

Lovely indeed.

Kettenhunde*

(Source)

"Feldwebel Lang, do you know how old that kid was, the one the SD hanged two days ago?"

Feldwebel Fritz Lang looked up at Gefreiter Joachim Taube, "You really need to be careful what you say Joachim."

"But do you know? That Landser they caught on the road with no papers, the one who claimed to be visiting his girlfriend, couldn't have been a day over seventeen!" Taube was obviously upset about that. He'd been in the Army for four years now, all in the Feldgendarmerie. He drove the motorcycle, he obeyed the rules, and acted as if he believed all the things his superiors told him.

"He was nineteen, I know, I checked his paybook after they hanged him." Lang looked off into the distance, it had not been the first time he had seen harsh discipline in the field. But those had been men who stole from their comrades, who ran away from battle. One man they had shot by firing squad in Russia had actually killed his lieutenant. The officer had been unpopular, but all the same, you didn't take matters into your own hands.

"Doesn't that bother you Fritz?" Taube had leaned over and hissed that at Lang.

"Are we on a first name basis now Gefreiter?" Lang spoke with some annoyance, it seemed that discipline in the Army was eroding faster and faster every day.

"Sorry Feldwebel Lang, but..."

"I know Junge, I know. It was wrong and the SD are thorough-going bastards. We would have at least court-martialed the man, then shot him."

"Really? Just like that? How can you..." Taube was nearly spitting mad.

"Calm down, the lieutenant might hear you, he's not as understanding as I am." Lang began to climb out of the sidecar, "Wait here."

He walked over and spoke briefly with their lieutenant. He gestured down the road to the south, they spoke some more, then Lang nodded and returned. He climbed back into the sidecar.

"Come on laddie, road patrol." Consulting his map, he said, "Head down this road, then take your first left."

Puzzled, Taube did as he was commanded.

Grenadiers Jürgen Jäger and Steffen Krämer had both been crewmembers on one of 5th Company's SdKfz 251/21s, the halftrack which mounted three 2 cm cannon. They were, respectively, the loader and gunner on the vehicle, one of those which had had to be abandoned on the other side of the Rhine. They had argued for staying and fighting, as Jäger had put it, "The Führer has demanded that we defend the Rhine to the last man!"

His vehicle commander, Obergefreiter Leon Berger, had told him to "Shut up and get in the barge or I will shoot you right here, right now!"

Berger was now an assistant squad leader in 1st Platoon, Jäger and Krämer were now simple riflemen in the hastily put together 3rd Platoon. To be honest, both men felt belittled. To go from crewmen on a fighting vehicle to being a simple riflemen? It wasn't right.

Now Krämer had told Jäger of a rumor he had heard when checking for mail at the company headquarters. Jäger was aghast.

"Are you serious Steffen, some of the men want to surrender? That's treason!" Jäger had managed to keep his voice down, he felt that many of his comrades were defeatists if not outright traitors and he didn't quite trust them.

"I knew you'd want to hear about it, your father is in the Party isn't he?"

"Yes, he's been a National Socialist¹ since 1922. One of the Old Fighters²! He would be horrified to hear such talk! We must report this, at once!" Jäger was seriously agitated.

"But to whom? The rumor has it that von Lüttwitz and Sauer are both in on this plot."

Jäger looked horrified, he idolized Leutnant Sauer, and Major von Lüttwitz was something of a minor legend in the Army, at least in the West. If they were considering surrender, the situation must be worse than what they were told. Which meant that Dr. Goebbels was lying, it also meant his father was lying. That couldn't be.

"What do we do Steffen? We must tell someone!" Jäger was in earnest, he felt it was his personal duty to the Führer to root out defeatism and treason and report it when found.

"I have an idea..." Krämer whispered.

Feldwebel Lang had Taube stop the motorcycle-sidecar combination as soon as they were out of sight and sound of the roadblock they were assigned to. Lang dismounted and invited Taube to do the same. Then Lang loaded his pipe, tamped it down, then lit up.

"You've never been a smoker have you?"

"No Feldwebel, the taste upsets my stomach."

Lang drew on the pipe and released a cloud of smoke with a contented sigh, "Real tobacco, picked it up in the Ardennes from an Ami supply truck. I'm almost out, that will be a sad day."

Lang smoked for a few moments more, obviously savoring the experience, Taube thought the older man was probably ruining his health.

"So, Joachim, do you think we will win this war? Speak freely, that's an order."

Taube hesitated, when Lang nodded and drew on his pipe again, Taube managed to stammer, "No Feldwebel, anyone can see that we are defeated. We have been retreating since June, with one or two defensive stands along the way, but we always collapse and we retreat again."

"So, do we fight on to the last man? Do we go out fighting so that generations of Germans can forget us as we have forgotten those who fell in the first war? Or do we survive to return to our wives and sweethearts? What's it to be, laddie boy, die for the Folk, the Reich, and the Führer? Do you think Fat Hermann or that club-footed baboon Goebbels will join us on the front line? Do you think Hitler will join us in repelling the invaders?" Lang spoke harshly, then he took one last puff of his pipe, then tapped the ashes out on the sole of one of his hobnailed boots.

"Well?"

Taube looked sheepish and embarrassed, his sergeant had a point, and quite frankly, Taube didn't want to die for anyone, especially not the Party and especially not those strutting idiots in Berlin.

"No Feldwebel, I want to live."

"So it's all right for us to kill those who feel just like we do, but don't have the self-control to stay with their units?" Lang was nearly barking at his corporal.

Hanging his head, Taube began to answer Lang, when the sergeant said, "Hello, what's this?"

Grenadiers Jäger and Krämer came around a bend in the road and saw a Feldgendarmerie patrol up ahead.

"There you go Jürgen, we can report this to the Kettenhunde! They'll know what to do!"

"I hope you're right Steffen. But we're away from our unit, with no papers, what if they don't listen?" Krämer was starting to get nervous, the both of them could, technically, be charged with desertion. Now the idea of reporting the rumor he had heard didn't seem like such a good plan. He hoped the Feldgendarmerie would listen.

Taube looked up at the two soldiers swaying in the slight breeze as they hanged from the tree Lang had picked out. Lang had made the signs around their necks from scrap cardboard in the sidecar. Both signs bore a single word, "Überläufer.³"

"What have we done, Feldwebel? Those men claimed to be reporting a treasonous plot to surrender their unit." Taube was very unsure of himself, it had been obvious that the two soldiers were both fanatics of the "fight to the last man" school of thought. One claimed that his father was a Party member.

But when the other one had exclaimed, "Do you not want to stop this Jewish conspiracy!!?" Taube had shaken his head in shock. He had been constantly chided about his name being Jewish since he'd joined the Army. Of course he denied it, and he had the papers from his hometown in Austria to prove his Aryan ancestry as far back as the year 1565.

But those papers were based on a very clever forgery his father had purchased in Vienna two years before the Anschluß in 1938. His father had seen the writing on the wall and had decided to take precautions. Though his father descended from a long line of Baltic Germans, his mother did not. Her maiden name was Horowitz, she was a Polish Jew his father had met, fallen in love with, and married during the first war, back when the Austro-Hungarian Empire still existed. His father had been a captain in the Army, his mother a nurse.

Now, at least on paper, his mother's name was Horváth, and she was Hungarian, rather than Polish. As his mother, like many Poles, spoke multiple languages, she could easily pass for Hungarian, or Austrian as her German was also excellent.

But the use of "Jewish" as if it were something offensive and criminal had triggered something in Taube, when Feldwebel Lang had arrested the two men, he went along with it. When Lang had determined to mete out summary justice to the two men, he went along with it. He had had a last minute urge to stop things when the ropes were put around the men's necks (the sergeant had that in the sidecar as well) but when one of them called him a "filthy Jew lover" the last line had been crossed.

The two men had screamed and begged for mercy before they were hoisted aloft, using the motorcycle to lift them while Taube covered them with his MP-40. Taube had vomited when the two men began to kick and struggle. Eventually their struggles ceased.

Taube had been sick again, then he turned to Lang, "Feldwebel Lang, why do I feel sick about this. I've witnessed executions before, but..."

"You've never had to actually perform an execution, have you?" Lang asked.

"No, I haven't."

"That's why. You get used to it I suppose."

Then Lang asked a blunt question, "Are you Jewish?"

Before Taube could answer, Lang held up a hand, "It makes no difference to me if you are. The Nazis took one of our neighbors away one day. An older couple, very nice people. She used to give me cookies when I was a boy which she had baked herself. I asked my mother why they were taken away, she told me it was because the Nazis were evil but we had to tolerate them for now. Our neighbors, as you might have guessed, were Jewish."

Taube protested, "I'm not, my mother just likes the name Joachim. She's very Biblical. A good Catholic like my father." Taube tried to be matter of fact about it, but he somehow knew that Lang saw through it, and also that Lang could care less if Taube was Jewish.

"Come on lad, we need to get back and report this to the lieutenant. Did you get their paybooks?"

"Yes Feldwebel."

"Good, can you imagine the gall of those two traitors, claiming that Major Jürgen von Lüttwitz, the Tiger of France, wanted to commit treason? I mean, the man holds the Knight's Cross for God's sake! Utter nonsense." Lang shook his head as he walked back to the sidecar.

As Lang climbed into the sidecar, he looked at Taube, who was still staring at the two dead men, "What are you waiting for Gefreiter? Do you have qualms about this? What we've done here by executing two traitors to the Reich?"

"No Feldwebel, it's just unsettling." Taube mounted the motorcycle, started it up, and the two Feldgendarmes returned to their duty post, the paybooks of Grenadiers Jürgen Jäger and Steffen Krämer in the tunic pocket of Feldwebel Fritz Lang.

As far as Lang was concerned, they had just executed two sniveling cowards who were trying to desert. Who had then tried to besmirch the name of a German war hero to cover that desertion.

No doubt he would have been stunned had he known that the two were actually telling the truth.

* Literally "chained dogs," German Army slang term for the Feldgendarmerie, the Wehrmacht's military police. (In the opening photo, note the gorgets suspended by chains on the two Feldgendarmerie.

¹ The Nazis didn't like being called "Nazis," as Nazi was a derogatory term for a backwards peasant, being a shortened version of Ignatius, a common name in Bavaria, the area from which the Nazis emerged. (Source). "Nationalsozialisten", National Socialists, was the preferred term and what they called themselves.

² In German "Alte Kämpfer," those who joined the Nazi Party before 1930.

³ Defector/deserter

Link to all of the Chant's fiction.

An Old Friend

National Archives

Sgt. Ted Collier, C Company's supply sergeant, came into the CP carrying a case of K Rations, for some reason Cpt. Palminteri loved the damned things. "Hey Skipper, you'll never believe what's out front."

Palminteri sighed and said, "Collier, how many times have I told you not to call me 'Skipper'?"

"Oh yeah, sorry Sir, but like I was saying..."

"Ted, your mouth is always running, get to the point would ya?" Palminteri said that with a grin. He liked his supply sergeant, but the man was one step above a pirate.

"There's an L.T. out front with two Kraut prisoners. One's a sergeant of some kind, the other looks like he should be in grammar school. The L.T. says he knows you so he brought you a couple of presents. I guess he means the Krauts."

Palminteri picked up his helmet and his carbine and said, "Says he knows me, huh? Well, I guess I need to see this for myself. Stow those rations under my cot, let's have a looksee."

When they stepped outside, sure enough, two Germans were sitting on the bench out front. Standing to one side, his back to Palminteri was a lieutenant, something about him seemed oddly familiar.

"Whaddaya got there lieutenant?" Palminteri asked the lieutenant's back.

That man said, "Sarge, cover these two guys for me, would ya?"

Collier unslung his Garand and said, "Sure lieutenant."

The lieutenant turned and said, "Miss me Cap'n?"

It was 1st Lt. Nathan Paddock.

Leutnant Manfred Sauer and Hauptfeldwebel Klaus-Peter Keller were both looking at the company's disbursing officer, Unteroffizier Hans Berthold. Berthold's arm was in a cast, he'd broken it badly two days ago. He should have been evacuated to the rear, but he refused to go.

"Herr Leutnant, if I go back, I may never get to rejoin the company again. Behind the front, everyone has gone insane, you haven't seen it, I have. The GFP and the SD are running wild, stringing up anyone they suspect of being away from their unit without orders." Berthold explained.

Keller pointed out, "You're wounded, that's obvious, and..."

"You don't understand Spieß, a gunshot wound is one thing, a broken arm, could be self-inflicted."

"But the Sani has the forms which..."

"The forms he has are out of date, we have new ones supposedly coming in, I'd be arrested in a second with those old forms."

"How do you feel about surrendering?" Sauer asked out of the blue.

"Sir...?"

"I know you Hans, you're not a fanatic, you're an accountant in civilian life, yes?" Sauer pointed out.

"Yes but..."

"You've done a fine job with the company, but frankly we have two choices, surrender, or die. Do you wish to die, Hans?"

"Certainly not Sir, but..." Sauer knew that Berthold had a pretty wife back in Rendsburg, a town in Schleswig-Holstein on the Kiel canal, he also knew that that wife was pregnant with their first child.

"I need you to go on a special mission for me. You'll be going with Grenadier Finkel." Sauer nodded towards Finkel who was waiting nearby. Finkel looked sixteen but was actually twenty-two. He was one of the company's marksmen and was a deadly shot with his scoped G 43 rifle. But he was also sick of the war. He had had a letter from his parents, both of them were terrified that he was going to be killed, he was their only son.

"Finkel, huh?" Berthold said, "Good man. He wants to surrender too?"

Now that Berthold seemed convinced, he was thinking that he might actually survive to see his wife again, he listened as Sauer brought Finkel over and briefed Berthold on the plan.

"What the Hell are you doing here Nate?" Palminteri said as he engulfed Paddock in a bear hug. "I thought you found some cushy job in the rear so you could be with your gal, what was her name, oh yeah, Beth, a nurse right?"

Palminteri's heart sank when he saw a cloud pass over Paddock's face.

"You're thinking of Beth McGee, she was Stephen Hernandez' lady friend. Edith Parsons, is my lady, they're both Army nurses, well, Beth was, but..."

"Ah Jesus Nate, did something..."

"She's dead Cap'n. Killed in a Kraut air raid while she was in London at some conference. Miles from the front, miles from the fighting, she still gets killed." Paddock's voice was low, there was a lot of pain in that voice. "Hernandez doesn't know yet, that's the other reason I'm here. To tell him."

"Man, I'm sorry Nate, but what's the real reason you're here?"

"I'm your new XO, I'm here to help you kill Krauts." Paddock was abrupt in his tone, as if to say, you can send me back, but I won't stay.

"Okay, okay. Now tell me about these two birds." Palminteri gestured at the two Germans.

"Now that's a story, can we go inside, the Kraut on the left speaks English. The one who looks like a kid, he's one dangerous son of a bitch, but it seems both of them are tired of the war. As are their battalion and company commanders." Paddock nodded his head at the German in the cast.

Once inside the CP, Palminteri looked at the English speaking German, "So, you speak English."

"Yes Captain, I do. I am Unteroffizier Hans Berthold, I was an accountant before the war for a firm which did extensive business in the United States. I have traveled to Boston, New York, and even Washington DC before the war. I am my company's Rechnungsführer, or disbursing officer." Berthold explained.

He continued, nodding at the younger man with him. "This man is Grenadier Kurt Finkel. We belong to the 5th Company, 2nd Battalion, of the 8th Panzergrenadier Regiment. Our battalion commander wants to finish this. He would very much like to surrender our entire unit."

"An entire battalion?" Palminteri's eyes went wide at that.

"We are really the size of a weak company, we have lost heavily since Köln, which I believe you refer to as Cologne. Most of us know that the war is lost, we stand a good chance of being killed to the last man before our leaders see the futility of continuing the war. It is time to end this." Berthold paused, then said, "Would you accept our surrender, if we can figure out a way to arrange it amidst this ongoing insanity?"

Palminteri's first thought was how good that would look on his record, might even make major from it, but he could also save lives. That would be fewer Krauts they'd have to fight in the long term.

"Yeah, I need to talk to my commanding officer, but I think he'll go for it. Winters!" He yelled out into the connecting room.

Cpl. Jacob Winters, C Company Communication Sergeant, popped his head in, "Sir?"

"Get on the horn to battalion, tell Major Josephson to come here fast as he can. We've got a surprise for him." Palminteri was excited about this.

"Surprise?"

"Ask him if he'd like to accept the surrender of a Kraut Panzergrenadier battalion."

"Seriously Sir?"

"Seriously, hop to it!"

"On it Sir!"

"Nate?" Paddock kept looking at the door.

"Sir, I have to find Stephen."

"2nd Platoon is down the street, turn left out the door, two streets down. Tell Stephen I'm awfully sorry."

"I will Sir. You figure out how to make that surrender happen. I'll gladly do the paperwork." Paddock set off to tell his successor the terrible news of Cpt. McGee's death.

Nate Paddock, when he had commanded 2nd Platoon, had written many letters to tell people he didn't know about the deaths of their loved ones. This would be the first time he would be telling someone he knew, and respected, of a death. The death of a lovely woman who deserved far better than this.

He did not think that there were many millions for whom the same could be said, but not one of them was as close a friend as Captain Beth McGee had been.

He wondered when it might be appropriate to tell the world of his proposal to Edith, and her acceptance. Conditional upon the end of the war.

Would this damned war ever end?

There were days when he felt it would last forever.

Like today.

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