Opening Moves (The Red Gambit Series)

by Gee, Colin

  “B’lyad.”

  The casualty figures were disproportionate.

  In all the combat that morning the 27th Guards Tank Regiment ceased to exist, solely one running heavy tank to its name, supported by twelve shattered and traumatised survivors. All but two of the other tank crew remained permanently on the field.

  285th Rifle Division was removed from the Soviet order of battle, its artillery, mortars, and support services absorbed into the Army reserves, the three rifle regiments formed into one shocked battalion and sent rearward for security duties.

  Each of the three regiments had sported over two thousand men before the commencement on the 6th. A few had fallen along the way but Malkendorf had been a slaughter akin to the early days of 1941. German civilians pressed into action to help clear the field four days later insisted that over three and a half thousand bodies were recovered and interred in five mass graves west of Horsdorf.

  A day later, Colonel Leonid Borissovich Shvpaghin was buried by his friend Alexander Bissanov, adjacent to the bridge north of Horsdorf, and alongside his long time comrade Major Alexei Vassilevich Banov, occupying the southern bank directly opposite the burial place of their German adversaries.

  The Malkendorf Kommando, as they called themselves, suffered twenty-three dead and an equal number wounded. They had been buried next to the bridge they had defended so valiantly.

  The Horsdorf group suffered grievous losses, mainly in the hand to hand fighting at the north end of the bridge. Seven men were left standing, none unwounded. The Rifle Brigade helped them bury these brave men on the evening of the battle, similarly adjacent to their last post.

  One Achilles had suffered a hit. Lightly armoured, a 122mm shell was always going to be the winner and the five crewmembers were buried in a hasty ceremony in the convenient hole created by the short drop in the churchyard.

  Along with them went the padre, eleven members of the Northumberland Fusiliers, one unlucky tanker from the 3rd RTR who broke his neck falling off his tank and twenty-seven riflemen from the 8th Battalion.

  The last body laid reverently in the grave was that of Lieutenant Colonel Fairbairn-Banks, his life extinguished by a mortar shell, heart stilled by the smallest piece of hot metal slicing through his aorta.

  Contrary to his gleeful statements in life, the grave was long enough.

  1028 hrs Thursday 9th August 1945, Headquarters of the French First Army, Baden-Baden.

  Eisenhower’s urgent phone call overrode the instruction not to be disturbed, as issued by the Commander of the First French Army to his Aide.

  The Colonel begged forgiveness and informed his commander of the urgency of the situation.

  Général d'Armée Jean de Lattre de Tassigny accepted the man’s nervous interruption and dismissed him, then apologised to his guests as he picked up the simple bakelite phone and had his world turned upside down by the American General.

  The men watched him closely; the woman poured a second glass of Perrier and flexed her wounded muscles, left

  shoulder, and arm bandaged as a result of fragments from a grenade. Nothing serious but very painful.

  The phone call was already coming to an end, with everyone by now aware that something had gone badly wrong.

  De Lattre replaced the receiver carefully, his own shrapnel wounds stiffening his right arm, and addressed the group, favouring the most senior man.

  Outlining the details of the 14th Infantry disaster and the moves made by Eisenhower, he begged the group’s indulgence and picked up the phone once more, instructing the 2nd Armoured Division forward as requested.

  That done he sat back in his chair, ready to hear the rest of what De Walle had to say and, more to the point, what De Gaulle’s reaction was going to be to it.

  Even with them in the room and the extremely pretty agent Valois to examine at length, exceptionally attractive despite not wearing any make-up whatsoever, her charms not obstructed by the bandages and scratches on her face, De Lattre spent more time looking at the fourth person opposite him.

  Such was the presence of Ernst-August Knocke.

  1215 hrs Thursday 9th August 1945, Headquarters of the French First Army, Baden-Baden.

  The meeting concluded shortly after midday, and De Lattre had secured the full support of De Gaulle for the proposal brought to him by De Walle and Knocke. In the way that adversity sometimes assists in the plans of men, Eisenhower’s information about the 14th Division’s collapse solved one major hurdle of the plan, and De Lattre would address that when the time was right.

  De Gaulle left the Baden-Baden headquarters openly and with his normal flourishes.

  The other three took their leave of De Lattre and left less theatrically, departing through the kitchens.

  Anne-Marie Valois’ natural beauty drew admiring glances from the kitchen staff, as well as from the Major making his coffee just the way he liked it, fresh ground beans in a glass mug with boiling water added to brew in the cup. It was the Polish way and he had taught himself to do it with enthusiasm he did not feel. Information was his business and kitchen staff the world over know all the gossip and do not mind who they share it with, so drinking the disgusting brew was a small price to pay.

  Sipping the coffee and admiring from head to toe the sensual lips, thrusting bosom, perfect hips and shapely legs of the pretty woman striding past, he noticed polished military boots and immaculate gaiters on the figure wrapped in an old raincoat behind her. His senses lit off all at once. ‘She is supposed to draw attention,’ said one side of his brain as the other side shouted ‘Look at the man’!

  Snatching a half-second as the figure disappeared through the door Kowalski saw a face that he felt he ought to be able to put a name to.

  At 2240, it came to him.

  His recent temporary attachment as a Liaison Officer with the 3rd Algerian Division in Stuttgart had disrupted his reporting methods but now he was back with the French First Army, Moscow would know that the French were courting the SS swine soon enough and he might even learn specifics by then.

  Ernst Knocke.

  “Skurwielu”, the Polish word for bastard slipped easily from his tongue.

  ‘Govno’, He thought in his native language.

  2135 hrs Thursday 9th August 1945, Headquarters of SHAEF, Trianon Hotel, Versailles, France.

  Eisenhower waited in his private chamber, his orderly somewhere else in an earnest hunt for a pack of Ike’s cigarettes, the main portion of which seemed to have disappeared in the move to Versailles.

  A knock on the door and a relieved Corporal provided a more relieved General with a stack of six packs to keep him going, which became five and a bit before the orderly reached the exit. So important was his habit that a Major was now tasked with ensuring that a steady supply was obtained from the PX.

  Having finished telephone discussions with Bradley and Devers some minutes beforehand, covering the next staged withdrawals, Eisenhower wanted to drop back down to the main intelligence room, just to take one last look at the map in case anything needed his attention prior to the intended relieving attacks slated for dawn on Friday morning.

  Settling back in his chair to savour the rich smoke, his quiet solitary world was interrupted by urgent knocking on his door, which then opened without the customary niceties. Ike was about to chew the Colonel out but he stayed himself, noting the excited and beaming smile on the man’s face. The older officer was a true Southern gentleman, never flustered and always correct so something had well and truly got his dander up and Ike wanted to know without delay.

  “Sir, my apologies to you this fine evening. I have a gentleman outside who I believe you will want to see without delay.”

  No amount of movement of mouth and chin could shift the smile.

  “Judging from your grin Thomas, I believe you may be right. Enlighten me.”

  Colonel Thomas Bell Hood, who was always at pains to state he was no relation to THE General Hood, composed himself and, although failing somewh
at to remove the whole smile, spoke formally and with great precision.

  “General, outside is Lieutenant-General Agustín Muñoz Grandes, official representative of the head of the Spanish State, His Excellency Generalissimo Don Francisco Franco y Bahamonde, Caudilo de España, por la Gracia de Dios.”

  Eisenhower was impressed with Hoods’ perfect recall as well as the impact of the name itself.

  “He seeks an audience with you immediately to relay information of vital importance to the Allied cause.”

  Now Ike understood why Hood’s composure had evaporated.

  Reaching for his cap, he shared Hood’s smile.

  “Then I will see him without delay, and once you conduct the Caballero in please contact Generals Bradley, McCreery, Devers, Alexander, and Clark and let them know to stay by the phone.”

  Hood conducted the Spanish officer into Ike’s quarters where he stood at parade attention, resplendent in his countries uniform and very noticeably sporting a Knight’s Cross with Oak leaves around his neck. Honours earned on the steppes of Russia as leader of the 250th German Infanterie Division, more famously known as the Spanish Blau Division.

  Eisenhower returned an immaculate salute and immediately extended his hand, which was firmly grasped and warmly shaken.

  As Ike showed Grandes to a chair, he knew he was about to get some good news at last.

  “You have come a long way General. I hope you have had some refreshment?”

  “Thank you General. I have been afforded the opportunity to eat and drink. Once I have given you my brief, I would be grateful if you could order your staff to allocate me a modest room where I might catch up on my sleep before I return with your reply.”

  “Consider it done General,” and he leant across to the telephone, organising comfortable quarters for the tired looking Spaniard.

  Grandes inclined his head in thanks as Ike replaced the receiver.

  The Allied general settled back in his chair, his eyes inviting the Spaniard’s information, although all he wanted to do was sit on the edge in anticipation of the words to come, much like a child at the end of a good fairytale.

  Grandes spoke firmly and with a lilt only those from Mediterranean climes have perfected.

  “General Eisenhower, I am here, on behalf of Generalissimo Franco, to give you the official and irrevocable position of the Spanish nation.”

  Eisenhower nodded but did not interrupt the flow with pleasantries.

  “The Soviet broadcast on the 6th August made clear the position the Communists have adopted regarding Spain and other countries. My Generalissimo wishes the Allied nations to be very clear on the position Spain has adopted regarding the Soviet Union and her allies.”

  A light cough broke his flow.

  “Spain believes that America, Great Britain, France, and all the other Allied nations intend to resist this communist aggression. Is that correct general?”

  Eisenhower nodded and reinforced the message.

  “Since that broadcast on Monday I can tell you that all nations who were committed to the Allied cause in May 1945 have reaffirmed their commitment to opposing this violent incursion into free Europe, as well as additional commitment being made by both the Brazilian and Mexican governments, we have received overtures from Argentina on offering assistance. You, Generalissimo Franco, and the Spanish nation may rest assured that we and our league of free nations will resist this with all our might and we will not stop until Europe is no longer under threat.”

  Eisenhower made sure that Grandes would get the real importance of what he was about to say.

  “We all will not stop until Nation States since absorbed or made puppets by the Soviet advances are returned to their rightful leaders and peoples all the way to the borders of Russia herself, and that the Soviet Union is made incapable of further acts of aggression for generations to come.”

  Grandes looked genuinely shocked to learn of the political position of the allied governments and wondered why it had not been announced.

  Eisenhower answered the unspoken question.

  “General, we will prevail, that is a given, for the People’s of the World are stirring to our cause. But much as Abraham Lincoln could not announce the emancipation of the slaves without a signal victory, any such words on our part will appear hollow without a victory, our Gettysburg.”

  Realising that in his efforts to explain the political position he might have strayed into a part of American history unfamiliar to his audience, Ike apologised.

  “Sorry General, not everyone is interested in that part of our history. Allow me to explain a different way.”

  Grandes smiled.

  “I understand perfectly General Eisenhower. Until you can do something to the communists and they have tasted a defeat of note then no threats, no announcement by you will have standing, either in their eyes or the greater world.”

  Eisenhower inclined his head in a gracious acceptance of the Spaniard’s understanding and eloquence.

  “General Eisenhower, Spain is with you.”

  Four words with much meaning.

  “As we speak, the Blau Division is reconstructing and will be ready to be placed at your disposal within the month. The Spanish Army will prepare an Expeditionary Force, which will constitute a full Corps of four divisions. This will be made available, under Spanish Command of course, once the position is made clearer to us regarding what direct threats exist to our homeland.”

  Eisenhower had just been given an extra division of troops, not a huge force in the greater scheme of things, but the prospect of a corps of troops from a new ally filled him gave him a huge boost.

  “Our ambassador’s in the Allied countries are delivering our promise of support and commitment to the Allied cause as we speak. The specifics of the military support remains solely with me, for you to use as you see fit, given the difficulties experienced by your intelligence services of late.”

  In this case, the Spanish eyes in question betrayed nothing of what was known, but the mere fact he had raised the matter made Eisenhower aware of more than a passing suspicion on his new ally’s behalf.

  Grandes continued, aware he had been indelicate but not regretting it.

  “I have in my possession a tape made by the Generalissimo himself. As you have the facilities here to broadcast it he asks if you would do so tomorrow at the earliest appropriate time.”

  Eisenhower’s question, forming on lips that had not touched a cigarette for a record time now, was unnecessary as Grandes continued, fishing in his briefcase.

  “Here is a translated transcript of its contents, word for word, General.”

  Eisenhower returned to his phone and requested coffee.

  He was only vaguely aware of its arrival, so engrossed was he in what he was reading.

  Unconsciously he reached for a cigarette sliding it between his lips and was startled from his trance as the Spaniard’s lighter flicked into life.

  Grandes smiled and gestured lightly, dismissing Ike’s embarrassment, lighting his own with a flourish.

  “Well General, these are fine words and will inspire not only your country but all the countries aligned with the cause you join.”

  Eisenhower arranged the document neatly and placed it on the exquisite cherry wood table, grabbing the arms of his chair. Both generals stood, as if on a silent cue and shook hands firmly.

  Reseating himself, Ike picked up a scalding coffee and grimaced as he noticed a mark on the otherwise pristine surface.

  Both men drank in comfortable silence.

  “We will have to sort out much by the way of logistics, chain of command, a great deal in fact General.”

  “Once I have returned to Madrid to reflect our conversation to the Generalissimo I believe he intends to dispatch me here to assist you and act as Liaison, if that is acceptable to you?”

  “General Grandes, that would be most acceptable to me indeed.”

  Both men grounded their coffees, drained simultaneously, and
shook hands for the third and final time that evening.

  “Colonel Hood will see to your needs General. I hope you sleep well. I certainly will.”

  “Thank you, General Eisenhower.”

  “Thank you, General Grandes.”

  Once the Spaniard had gone Eisenhower flopped into his chair, lit another celebratory cigarette, and commenced a number of phone calls to his senior generals.

  Any coward can fight a battle when he's sure of winning, but give me a man who has pluck to fight when he's sure of losing.

  George Eliot

  CHAPTER 47 – THE NIGHT

  0215 hrs Friday 10th August 1945, Headquarters, US Forces in Europe, Trianon Palace Hotel, Versailles, France.

  The atmosphere was markedly different in SHAEF, partially because news of the Spanish commitment had been a positive boost indeed, but mainly because this morning they were going to do something substantive to the enemy for the first time.

  Despite the euphoria brought on by Grandes’ words, Eisenhower had slept soundly for a few hours, waking refreshed and focussed, content that all was how it should be.

  Exchanging a quizzical look with Tedder across the grand room, he received a nod of confirmation.

  Reaching for his cigarettes, the Supreme Commander closed his eyes briefly and imagined what was about to occur some five hundred miles east of where he stood, and in a number of other places marked in red on his map.

  He smiled.

  0257 hrs Friday 10th August 1945, Airborne over Leipzig, Germany.

  Flight Lieutenant Lawrence Saul watched as another of the friendly predators did its work. The cover they had received so far was excellent and only one of his squadron’s aircraft had succumbed to the Soviet night-fighters.

  Approaching the start of his run-in, the sky was perfect for his job that night.

  Anti-aircraft fire reached up but was wholly ineffective, badly calculated, and exploded beneath the Lancaster Mk III’s of 460 Squadron R.A.A.F.