It was sunset on Frank Ballard’s tenth day in Germany, and he was aware that the terrain was changing around him more rapidly with every mile. They were approaching the mouth of the Moselle Valley, where that dark river flowed into the Rhine. For days they had rolled along between forested ridges, bypassing small, almost medieval towns, but they were now entering a region where factories were as common as farms. The land was flat, and the vast landscapes of forest had been reduced to clumps of isolated woods between roads, hamlets, farms, and industry.
The headquarters company of CCA pulled into the yard of one such factory, where the fuel trucks had formed an impromptu depot. As the vehicles took on gas, Ballard climbed out and spread his well-worn map on the hood of a jeep. They were close, now—damned close—to Koblenz and that great prize, the only river crossing that really mattered.
He was taking a drink from his canteen when a jeep came racing up the road and turned into the depot yard. Ballard recognized one of Smiggy’s corporals, and waved a salute as the man jumped out of his vehicle and raced up to the combat command CO.
“What do you see up there?” asked the colonel.
“We caught sight of one tank down in the city,” the man reported breathlessly. “But we’ve moved in past the first downhill run, and haven’t taken any fire. We’re going in as fast as we can, Colonel, with the first company of tanks right behind us. It looks like if we get any trouble it won’t be until we’re closer to the river.”
“Well, be careful and keep your eyes open,” Ballard suggested—unnecessarily, he knew, though it made him feel better to give the advice. “We want to get across those bridges as soon as possible.”
“Aye, aye, Colonel!” replied the corporal, quickly heading back to his vehicle.
As he was leaving, another group of jeeps and trucks pulled up, these coming along the road Ballard had been following from the west. He recognized the headquarters company of his artillery battalion, and ambled over to greet Major Diaz as he scrambled out of a half track.
“How long has it been since you’ve been shot at?” Ballard asked Diaz.
“A few snipers here and there,” the major acknowledged with a shrug.
“They get their heads down pretty fast when we give ’em direct fire from a couple of one-oh-fives.”
Ballard nodded. “I can’t help feeling like we’re missing something—like it shouldn’t be this easy.”
“Maybe it won’t be,” Diaz suggested. “But it’s not far to the river, is it?”
“Not far at all.” Ballard folded up the map, saw that the fueling hoses were being rolled away from the last of his tanks. “Headquarters—mount up!” he called.
“Well, I’ll keep my guns ready,” Diaz pledged. “You go get ’em, Colonel!”
Ballard reviewed the advance, tried to plan for any obstacles. Sure, the tanks and infantry of the combat command were already penetrating the outskirts of the city, with little resistance reported so far. But Diaz was right—surely it wouldn’t be this easy? With these thoughts weighing on his mind, Ballard’s command tank rumbled off, following a road leading into the heart of Koblenz. He sat atop the turret, looking around and listening for sounds of combat.
He had seen a lot of damaged cities in the course of this war, but he was surprised at the extent of the destruction here. This was the work of heavy bombers, he knew—mountains of brick and concrete and dust rising as high as two-story buildings flanked the sides of this street, marking places where tall structures must have stood.
A half hour later he heard a screeching call over his radio.
“Eyes One, calling Barnyard Ten. Spot me, ten o’clock, up the hill.”
He recognized Smiggy’s voice and, looking to his left, caught sight of his recon officer waving from beside a blasted wall on a side street. Ballard instructed his driver to head that way, and the Sherman nimbly skirted several piles of bricks, lurching through a bomb crater as it climbed the road.
The tank halted a dozen paces away and Ballard pulled himself out of the turret, then hopped down to the street. The reconnaissance captain’s face was split by a wide grin, and Ballard felt a flash of hope. “Whatcha got?” he asked.
“Take a look at that, Colonel,” Smiggy said, turning to peer over the wall, which at this point dipped down to chin height. Ballard leaned into the gap and looked, saw the glorious sight of sunlight reflecting from a wide band of water.
“Is that what I think it is?” he asked.
Captain Smiggs nodded proudly. “Yup, Colonel. You can call all those generals and field marshals, and tell ’em that we’ve got a bead on the Rhine.”
Ballard was still looking, eyes ranging to right and left. “I count two bridges still standing!” he declared.
“And there’s one more, just out of sight around the bend,” Smiggy replied. “If we can keep moving, we can be across that river by the end of the day!”
It seemed too easy, too tempting a thought … but once again Ballard
allowed himself to hope that, very soon now, this goddamned war would be over. No sooner had he let the hope creep into his thoughts than it was dashed by the sounds of guns—
lots
of guns—coming from the city, near the waterfront. It was small-arms fire, but it denoted a pretty tough level of resistance.
“Shit,” Smiggy grunted. “Sounds like trouble, Colonel.”
Ballard could hear that for himself, as machine guns and several tank cannon added their notes to the chorus of battle. He cursed silently as he saw one of his Shermans go up in a plume of orange fire and black smoke. Other tanks hastily reversed, rolling back to the cover of a railroad embankment. He heard the distinctive crack of an 88 and saw another M4 explode. The CCA armor was shooting back now, machine guns and infantry rifles coming into play, but it took only a moment’s study to see that the headlong advance had been brought, at least temporarily, to a halt.
“HQ—move out!” Ballard called, sprinting back to his own tank. He had been right, dammit, and he hated to be right about stuff like this.
But the speedy race against no opposition had, in fact, been too good to last.