Germanica (26 page)

Not that the tankers cared, but being attached to the 105th wasn’t all that bad. The infantry had managed to make themselves fairly comfortable while waiting for the big attack to take place.

A jeep pulled up next to Mimi and a captain got out. Dixon successfully fought the urge to salute and simply nodded in recognition. “How can I help you, Captain Tanner?”

“First, you can give me the name of the woman who modeled for Mimi.”

Dixon grinned. “You’d have to kill me first, sir.”

“Well then, maybe you can tell me where the rest of your tanks are. The division was expecting twenty and it looks like we’re short sixteen.”

“Sir, I understand that the rest will be along shortly. There were some issues that the colonel wanted to iron out with the men before we came up here.”

Aw, crap, Tanner thought. “Let me guess, Sergeant. A number of the men were less than enthusiastic about coming up here to fight in the Pass.”

“That’s about the size of it, sir,” Dixon said. The rest of the men in the small column had left their tanks but were staying out of hearing range. “We got to go because I was the most junior sergeant and the least likely to piss and bitch about the situation.”

“Did anybody actually refuse orders?”

“No, sir. The colonel’s just letting them sound off about how they felt. We were in the first attack and the division got chewed up badly, which is how I got this last stripe. My guess is that they’ll be along in about an hour or so.”

Tanner forced a smile. “I guess the war can wait that long.”

He had to wonder, though, if the army was getting close to actually refusing to go back into the battle. It had happened before, but not with any large force of Americans. In the First World War, however, a number of French divisions had refused to go on the attack after suffering appalling losses in a number of battles ordered by incompetent French generals. A number of historians felt that the French infantry had been pushed beyond endurance by making a number of futile and bloody attacks on strong German defenses. As a result, the French refused to attack. They would stand on the defensive but not waste men in further slaughters. A number of the mutineers had been hanged, but the French hierarchy became more aware of the anger of their men. They didn’t want a revolution like the Russians had. Was this what was going to happen to the American army? Good lord.

“Sergeant, are the men aware that the attacks will be preceded by very heavy bombing?”

Dixon started to laugh but caught himself. Captain Tanner seemed like a decent guy, but he knew he shouldn’t push it by being a smartass. “Sorry sir, but most of the guys think that’s just so much bullshit, if you’ll forgive my language. There are a lot of guys who don’t think the bombers can hit the ground, much less a target.”

There was a faint rumble and they instinctively looked skyward. “Speak of the devil,” Tanner said. A long line of bombers was high overhead and headed down the pass. Another rumble told them that the remaining sixteen tanks were heading into the area.

“Sir, I sure as hell hope you’re right about the bombers, sir. It would give me a great thrill to put Mimi in gear and simply cruise through Germany without any incident and not put the brakes on until we hit Switzerland.”

CHAPTER 13

The air raid system had failed. Again. There were supposed to be radar stations letting the German infantry know that the American planes were en route. So what had happened? It didn’t matter. Hummel and Schuster just wanted to survive the horror that was exploding all around them and threatening to blow out their lives.

The two men were in their strong little bunker but far from safe. Bombs exploding nearby were sending shock waves that threatened to collapse their fort and even suck the life from their lungs. Hummel had lost his hearing again, but that seemed to be it. Schuster, on the other hand, was clutching his knees to his chest and screaming silently. At least Hummel
thought
Schubert was silent. He wouldn’t know for certain until his hearing came back. Or if it came back. If he was deaf, would the army discharge him? Fat chance.

Schuster started to rock back and forth and Hummel could see that he’d wet himself. There was a pause in the bombing and, even though his hearing still wasn’t working right, Hummel could detect Schuster making loud, keening, screeching noises, lunatic noises.

Hummel reached out and grabbed his friend’s arm. “Calm down. It’ll be all over in a minute.”

It wasn’t. Schuster shook off Hummel’s hand. More bombers came and dropped still more bombs. The world was turning to dust and it felt like the earth was disintegrating. Hummel looked into Schuster’s eyes and saw nothing but madness. Schuster pushed Hummel away and tried to climb out of the bunker.

“Stop. You’ll get killed. Stay down here and be safe,” Hummel said.

Schuster clawed at the earth and continued to howl. The tips of his fingers were bloody and raw. Hummel tackled his friend and dragged him back to the relative safety of the bunker. Outside, it was raining murderous hot and sharp metal.

An explosion hit close by and caused the roof of their bunker to collapse. Now I know I’m going to die, Hummel thought. Schuster had stopped digging. He simply lay there, half covered with debris, his chest heaving. At least he’s alive, Schuster thought.

And then it was over. The bombers were gone until the next time. Hummel started to dig his way out, but it was difficult with Schuster inert and in the way. He called for help. A few minutes later, he heard voices and rescuers started digging. Another few minutes and Lieutenant Pfister and several other soldiers pulled the two men out and laid them on the ground. Someone poured water over Hummel’s head and then let him drink.

Pfister looked at Schuster who didn’t respond. “What happened to him?”

“It was the bombing, sir. He couldn’t handle it anymore.”

The lieutenant examined Schuster who lay there until someone sat him up. His eyes were blank. His mouth was open and his tongue lolled around.

“He isn’t faking it,” Pfister said. “I just hope he recovers soon.”

“Sir, should I take him to the hospital?” Hummel asked.

“And what will they do for him?” Pfister asked angrily. “He doesn’t have any apparent physical wounds, so the SS will decide that he’s a coward and not sick and hang him. No, he’s better off with us. Maybe this shock will wear off enough so that he can function, at least a little, but until then he stays with us. We’ll all take turns watching out for him until something happens.”

Hummel stared at his lieutenant and their eyes locked. They both nodded. Pfister was not going to fight to the death either, at least not if he could help it. It was good to know. Too bad it took turning his good friend into a vegetable in order to find it out.

* * *

Fifty-year-old Lieutenant General Lucian Truscott was the new commander of the U.S. Seventh Army. General Alexander Patch’s health had deteriorated to the point where he could no longer function in such a stressful position. They said he had pneumonia but Ike wondered if it wasn’t something more serious. Regardless, the Seventh Army needed a more vigorous commander and the strong Truscott was such a man. He was also a realist. He looked at Ike and Devers and asked a very simple question.

“I just flew up from Italy and crossed the Alps. We probably flew over German-held territory, but don’t worry. I don’t want any medals for that. The scenery was magnificent from a tourist’s point of view but appalling and horrible from a military one. Just how many men are you willing to lose while pushing south to Innsbruck, and what the hell do we do when we take the place? There are no real roads leading from Innsbruck to Bregenz or any other place that the Nazis feel is important.”

Ike winced. The backlash against continuing the war against Germany was gaining momentum. Back in the States, protests had become larger and louder, with many extoling the martyrdom of Mildred Ruffino. There had been no real violence yet, or any large refusals on the part of military personnel to do their duty, but there was tension. A handful of soldiers were being brought up on charges while others had declared that they had suddenly decided they were conscientious objectors. Ike had ordered that any court-martials be held in abeyance until the situation clarified itself. Some historians had likened the period to that just before the Russian Revolution broke out. Most thought that comparison was utter nonsense. It was inconceivable that soldiers would refuse to fight an enemy and form soviets to make collective decisions. Nor was there any inkling whatsoever that the nation’s hatred of Japan had receded. Just the opposite. The ever louder cries called for an American exit from Europe so that Japan could be squashed.

“We will do our duty,” Ike said tightly.

“Never suggested that we wouldn’t,” Truscott responded softly. His vocal cords had been damaged years earlier, which made some think he was soft spoken and not dynamic. Those who thought that way quickly found out that they were dreadfully wrong. “But has anybody thought of what might happen if the Japanese were to surrender first?”

“I don’t even want to think about that,” Ike answered, forcing a smile. “Although I’ll admit that I’ve wondered that as well. While we can be fairly certain that it won’t happen, we cannot totally rule out the possibility. The Japs are suicidal stubborn bastards who won’t quit until the last one is dead. If they do go first, maybe it will motivate the Nazis to give up. Who the devil knows? Unless something dramatic happens to change the game, we’ll be fighting the Japs for a very long time.”

“I suppose that’s good to know,” said Devers. “However, it does mean that our boys will be getting killed by Japs and Germans instead of just Germans.”

Truscott was not finished. “It also means that I am not going to send our boys into a man-killing meat grinder. Have either of you seen a lion eat an elephant?”

“Not lately,” Ike said while Devers looked puzzled.

“Well, I haven’t either. But I understand that the lion eats the elephant one bite at a time. Now the German force is not an elephant. We are larger, you could say that we are the elephant, but they have the stronger ground. Therefore, there will be no more three-division frontal assaults and their subsequent appalling losses. We will isolate an area, pound and shell the crap out of it, and then chew it up and spit it out. It’ll take time and be slow but steady, but there won’t be anything much that the Germans can do. We eat a chunk and their positions to either side are in danger of being flanked while we expand the chunk. When that happens, they’ll either have to come out of their holes and attack or retreat. If they attack, we hit them with bombs and artillery and destroy them. If they retreat, which is the more likely scenario, they will soon wind up with their asses up a mountaintop and nowhere else to go.”

Ike nodded and checked his watch. He’d spent enough time in Strasbourg welcoming Truscott to his new position and he’d liked what he’d heard. Truscott would put immense pressure on the Germans and they would, sooner or later, fold. Some thoughts were nagging at him. In his position he heard rumors, or sometimes just rumors of rumors. They all said that the United States was developing some kind of super-weapon. If this was true, wonderful. If not, then life and death would go on and the Seventh Army would push its way south through the confines of the Brenner Pass towards Innsbruck while Mark Clark’s armies would claw their way north. After that, anything could happen.

* * *

Is there really a war on? thought Tanner. This day was just too idyllic for words. He and Lena were sitting on a blanket spread on the grass in a field and having an old-fashioned summer picnic. They were a few miles away from their workplaces and living quarters. Better, the weather was cooperating. It was pleasantly warm and the sun was shining.

It was the first time he’d been with Lena on a totally social basis and he’d been as nervous as a high school sophomore about asking her. Then, he’d been as pleased as a little kid when she agreed.

Tanner had gotten some good food from the cooks—fried chicken, potato salad, and apple pie with ice cream. A bottle of decent Rhine wine completed the picture.

Lena looked up at the blue sky and smiled. “You have no idea how many times I wished for the simple freedom to be able to do exactly this.”

“And with me?” he asked with an impish grin.

“Of course I didn’t know you then, but definitely with somebody like you. And that reminds me. You call me Lena and that’s correct, but how do I call you? Should I say Tanner or Captain Tanner or Scott, or, God help us, Scotty.”

Tanner laughed. “It’s always been as if I never had a first name. Everybody who knew me always called me Tanner. I would be very happy if that’s what you did.”

“Then Tanner it is, Tanner. Except when we are on duty and then I will remember your rank.” She looked around again. The not so distant mountains were sharply visible. “And I did not come with you just for the chance at some really good food, although that did help. I think you wanted to know me better and I felt the same way. Or am I being too forward and European.”

“I think you’re being just great.”

He also thought she looked great. Instead of the semi-military uniform she normally wore, she’d somehow scrounged up a white blouse and a full blue skirt that still showed enough of her shapely legs. She’d mentioned that she’d liked dancing and it showed in her lean muscles. Now that she no longer was a refugee, she no longer looked like one. She had a lovely trim and proportioned figure. He was also pleased that, unlike many European women, she did shave her legs. With her dark hair, it might have looked very strange to an American. She had no stockings. Few women did. She had attracted a lot of attention when he’d picked her up at the tent she shared with seven other women and drove her in a jeep to the picnic site.

“Someday I would like to go back to Prague,” she said wistfully.

“I don’t know if I can help, but I’ll try. You may have to wait a while. The Red Army is still setting up shop and things could be nasty until they really get the place under control.”

She leaned over and patted his arm. “I understand. I really do rather doubt that my father is even alive, much less waiting for me in Prague. Still, I would like to find out what I can.”

“Understood.” She had told him that Father Shanahan was going to use the Red Cross to help, but there was no Red Cross setup that she knew of in Prague. He wished that she hadn’t let go of his arm. God, he was again acting like a kid and he had the feeling she knew it and was laughing at him.

The day became evening and they talked about life, their pasts, and whatever futures they thought they might have or wanted. He already thought he knew the details of her life before the war and as a slave with the Schneiders, but she elaborated. She held his hand tightly while she told him, purging herself and crying a little. He wanted to kill the Schneiders, but she said no. The Schneiders were not worth it.

He drove her back to the tent where a couple of her other tent mates were lounging and trying not to stare.

“Come with me,” she said taking his arm and leading him to the tent. She stopped and looked in. “Both of you, out of here,” she said laughing.

A few seconds later, a pair of women came out, stared and smiled at Tanner. Lena took his hand and led him into the tent. The heat was stifling. “Have you ever seen anything quite so grand?”

Eight cots were set up in no apparent order. Clothes were strewn about and duffle bags hung from hooks. A bra lay on one cot. He asked if it was hers and she laughingly said no. “I am not a slob. All my things are put away.”

“You are right, though, Lena, this is truly magnificent.”

She didn’t bother to smile. She simply slipped into his arms and they kissed. The first one was most pleasant, even tender. The next few were much more passionate. She pulled away but kept smiling broadly.

“While it’s tempting, dear Tanner, I am not going to make love to you on an army cot with seven other women hanging around.”

He kissed her on the forehead and hoped that his erection would go down so that he could get to the jeep without drawing too much attention. “I will work on it. Maybe I will find you a palace for rent in Innsbruck.”

* * *

Ernst Schneider entered the small apartment he shared with his wife and their two grown children. At least he lived in the sunshine of Bregenz and not in a cave like so many others were forced to. He couldn’t decide if he felt foolish or terrified. His wife did not share his indecision.

“Good lord, Ernst,” she gasped, “what is that you have and what have you gone and done?”

“This is a Panzerfaust,” he announced proudly, holding out the several foot long tube-shaped device. “It is a tank killer and I am now a captain in the Volkssturm and this is one of the two weapons I’ve been issued. The other is an old Mauser rifle and they gave me a few dozen rounds of ammunition.”

“But why?” Gudrun asked. “Have things gotten so bad that the Reich has to enlist older civilians and men who are veterans of the first war?”

“I am not old,” he sniffed. “I am barely forty. And if I can help defend our country, I will do exactly that. The army is considering drafting men as young as our Anton.”

Gudrun rose quickly from her chair. Ernst could not help but notice how much spryer she was since she and all the others were now on an enforced diet. She had lost thirty pounds and he twenty. Both Anton and Astrid had also slimmed down. It was almost impossible to find a fat person in Germanica. This had led to numerous jokes about how Herman Goering would look if he had made it to the Third Reich’s last hope.