THE TEN THOUSAND

by Harold Coyle

  Although I am pledged to obey the orders of the superiors appointed over me in accordance with the Constitution, the oath of my commission also requires me to defend that very same Constitution from all enemies, foreign and domestic. After very careful consideration, 1 cannot view the surrender of this corps to the Germans as anything but detrimental to the maintenance of long-term peace and stability for the United States and Europe.

  I therefore have decided to disregard the President's order to lay down our arms and allow Nazi aggression once again to threaten the world peace. Instead, I propose to march this command from the Czech Republic, through Nazi territory and to the coast, where I will deliver this corps, with all its equipment and personnel, into the hands of my superiors as an effective and combat-ready force.

  I must underscore that my choice, my view, may not be shared by many of you. I am, after all, disobeying the orders of the President of the United States. I cannot ask you to blindly follow suit. Each of you, from division commander down to rifleman, must choose on his or her own. I cannot promise you success. I cannot promise you that you will be hailed as a conquering hero when we return to the United States. We may, in fact, be treated as criminals. Possible death and deprivation waits for us along our route of march. What I can promise you is that we will stand up to Nazi aggression, as our fathers and grandfathers did in World War II. If you go forward, with me, we go forward as soldiers, masters of our own fates, ready to uphold our honor as American soldiers and free men.

  Those of you who in the depth of your hearts cannot bring yourselves to commit to this enterprise are free to remain in the Czech Republic, where you will be disarmed and returned to the United States. I, and every member of this command, will respect your decision. You, like me, must determine where your true duty lies.

  I remind those of you who stay with the colors of what Captain Charles May told his troopers of the 2nd Dragoons before they charged Mexican positions at the Battle of Resaca de la Palma in 1846: "Remember your regiment and follow your officers." Together, with the help of God and the skill and determination that have made the American soldier the most effective soldier in the world, we will not only see this through but will serve notice to the world that the United States is, and shall remain, a force to be reckoned with. God bless you all.

  A. M. Malin

  Lieutenant General, U.S.A.

  Commanding

  The address to the corps was, Kozak thought, well thought out and had had the desired effect on her company. Not a single soldier had stepped forward to ask to be left behind. She had, when she had read the message and after, taken every opportunity to ensure that no one was being coerced through peer pressure or pride to do something that they did not want to do. Though she knew that those forces were in effect generally, Kozak was able to convince herself that the members of her tiny command were there that night of their own free accord. For that she was thankful.

  Stuffing the piece of paper back in her pocket, where eventually it would be forgotten and slowly destroyed as other items were shoved in on top of it, Kozak folded her arms tightly across her chest as if she were struggling to keep whatever warmth she had left from escaping. The light snow that had begun to fall during their meal was becoming heavier. While this, she knew, would cover their move into Germany and give them the best chance to roll through the German countryside to their point of debarkation without detection, it had its drawbacks. The wheeled vehicles of the battalion's field trains, moving by road after the border posts had been cleared, would have to negotiate the treacherous mountain roads made worse by the same fresh snow that would cloak the entry of the combat vehicles. And the follow-on forces, as well as the rest of the Tenth Corps sitting lined up and ready to' move in fields and along the sides of roads, would have to deal with the foul weather that would hinder them as much as it aided Kozak's company. The whole operation, Kozak imagined, was like one of those giant domino contests run to see how many dominoes you could line up and then knock down with a single push. This operation, she knew, like the domino contest, depended on detailed planning and at times incredible luck. One domino out of place or falling wrong would stop the whole process.

  Looking about her, Nancy Kozak suddenly got the feeling that she was alone. Standing there in the bitter night, every sound muffled by the falling snow, the world seemed to be at rest and asleep, not waiting to leap forward into battle. That leap, she knew, would come. What it would mean to her and her command, however, was beyond her comprehension. The whole enterprise was from beginning to end crowded with unknowns. Would they be able to make it through the mountains to their designated blocking positions and unload their vehicles unhindered? Would the Germans resist, and if so, how? How would her soldiers react to that resistance? How would she react?

  While Kozak waited and wondered, eighty miles to the southwest, in a break in the mountains known as the Cheb Gap, Major Ilvanich and the rangers of Company A, 1st Ranger Battalion, 77th Infantry, were about to push over the domino of Big Al's gamble.

  The sudden appearance of the Czech border patrol lieutenant and his two soldiers at the door of the German customs office didn't surprise the German customs sergeant. The German sergeant glanced up at the clock on the wall. Noting that it was just before midnight, he shrugged his shoulders and prepared to greet the Czechs. It was not unheard of for the men who patrolled the borders of their nations to pay social calls on each other while making their rounds, especially on nights like this. Looking up from his desk when the door flew open, allowing a flurry of snow and a blast of cold air to sweep into the building, the customs sergeant smiled and nodded at the Czech officer before shouting for the senior German Army sergeant on duty. The senior German Army sergeant, who had been enjoying the warmth of the back room with his squad where they had been watching television, threw his legs over the side of his cot onto the floor, pulled his uniform shirt on, and sauntered on out into the outer office.

  The Czech officer, after shaking loose snowflakes from his uniform and stomping his boots just inside the door on a thin mat, came forward toward the long counter where the German customs sergeant sat. The sergeant, with a sweep of his right hand, invited the Czech officer to take a seat near the heater behind the counter. There they were joined by the senior German Army sergeant. Neither German paid any attention to the Czech border patrolmen who remained just inside the door where they unslung their rifles and checked the actions of their rifles to ensure they were not frozen. The sound of sliding rifle bolts caused no concern, for men coming in from the cold and snow were expected to check their weapons for operation. The Czech officer, taking a seat before them, held his hat in his lap over his hands, as if to warm them up faster. This didn't cause the Germans any concern who were more interested in warming themselves than watching their guests. Since the American operations in the Czech Republic had become a matter of international concern, both nations had reinforced their mutual borders. To ensure that things did not get out of hand, officials of both nations encouraged their people patrolling the border to maintain close and cordial contact during the period of crisis.

  After allowing several seconds for the Czech lieutenant to open the conversation, the German Army sergeant finally spoke. "We were just getting ready to go out ourselves and follow the border trace for a while when you came in, Herr Lieutenant." The Czech lieutenant glanced into the back room where the soldiers of the sergeant's squad sat, stripped down to their T-shirts and lying about on cots or lounging on chairs watching the television. If they had been preparing for a patrol, they had the strangest pre-combat drill he, Major Nikolai Ilvanich, had ever seen. Still he said nothing about that, only grunting and nodding as the German sergeant continued. "I suppose that you have been out and around walking the trace itself. Perhaps, Lieutenant, you could show me where you were and we could coordinate our patrolling efforts?"

  Ilvanich smiled, for he knew what the German Army sergeant really was after. If by chance the German sergeant found t
hat the area he was responsible for had already been patrolled by the Czechs, he and his men wouldn't need to go out into the cold. The German sergeant could, in all good conscience, report to his lieutenant that the area was secured. It wasn't that the sergeant was being lazy or lax about his duties. It was just that he was being efficient. Ilvanich knew, as a soldier does, that it would be foolish to duplicate efforts. Although his German was impeccable, Ilvanich allowed some of his Russian accent to muffle his words, trusting that it would disarm the Germans further and that they wouldn't be able to tell the difference between German spoken with a Slovakian accent and German spoken with a Russian accent. "Let me see, please, your operations map, and I will show you where it was that we have just come from."

  Happy that the Czech officer was more than willing to go along with his suggestion, the German Army sergeant got up and went into the back room to retrieve his map from his cot while the customs sergeant went to get Ilvanich a cup of coffee. Looking over toward the door, where his two companions still waited, Ilvanich gave Sergeant Allen Rasper and Specialist Kevin Pape a slight nod and smile. Both men, sweating as much from nervous anticipation as from the heat of the Czech Army overcoats that covered their own uniforms, returned Ilvanich's nod and waited for him to make his move.

  "We have been," the German Army sergeant said, beaming as he returned with his map, "most anxious about how thin we are along the border." Plopping the map down on Ilvanich's lap, the German began to point out the location of the outposts his company had established along the German-Czech border. "The panzer and panzergrenadier units were gone before we even got here. They're all up north around Chemnitz or Dresden. Our division is stuck here in a paper-thin outpost line trying to cover almost two hundred kilometers of frontier with lightly armed mountain troops. So, Herr Lieutenant, it is important that we cooperate whenever possible, in order to make best use of our men."

  Looking back at the soldiers lounging about in the back room, weapons lined up against the wall without any magazines in them, Ilvanich felt both satisfaction and disgust. While he was pleased that the Germans were so unprepared and were at that moment giving him the disposition of their forces in the local area, he was upset that this sergeant was, through his lack of vigilance, endangering his men. While he and his fellow Russian officers knew that German soldiers were in all probability no better and no worse, man for man, than their own, the German military system had always held a mystique, an aura of evil efficiency that caused them great concern. To see it now close up and personal for the first time, in this light, made Ilvanich begin to wonder if through all these years his superiors had not been guilty of overstating the prowess of the enemy. While it was probably true, Ilvanich pushed that strange thought from his mind and began to listen intently while the German Army sergeant pointed out the clearly marked military symbols that represented the fighting positions as well as the outposts and patrol routes of the German Army company responsible for the Cheb Gap roadblock. The German sergeant, with a note of concern in his voice, ended by stating that except for his company covering the entire Gap and beyond, there wasn't an organized combat unit between where they sat and Nuremberg.

  Taking the map and sticking it under his left arm, Ilvanich began to stand up. As he did so, his wool cap fell to the floor, exposing the 9mm pistol in his right hand. Noticing that the hammer of the pistol pointed at them was cocked back, the two German sergeants rose. First one, then the other, glanced at the two Czech soldiers who had been left standing at the door.

  Both had, while the Army sergeant was briefing Ilvanich, moved up to the counter. They now stood there, rifles raised and ready, staring at the German sergeants. Switching to his best High German, Ilvanich calmly began to issue his orders. "Now, if neither one of you gets excited, you and all your men will live to see the dawn. First, Sergeant, you need to assemble your squad out here without their weapons, where my sergeant can watch them. Then we need to call your platoon leader and company commander and convince them to join us here. Please, when you do so, be discreet, for although I really do not want to see you or any of your men dead, my American ranger friends here are quite upset about what your Chancellor has been saying and doing lately. Neither of them cares about your personal well-being like I do. They would, as the Americans are so fond of saying, just as soon shoot you where you stand as look at you."

  When he was satisfied that the German Army sergeant understood, Ilvanich turned to the customs sergeant. "And as soon as my trusted American deputy arrives, a young lieutenant eager to practice his soldierly skills and not particularly concerned whom he practices them on, you and I will go to the station control room and begin to make some changes in the routing of rail traffic. This is going to be, I'm afraid, a much longer night than either of you expected."

  Though he could see that both sergeants were quite angry, as much about the playful manner in which he was treating them as about the situation, Ilvanich could also see that they were confused and unsure. So long as he kept them that way, he and the rest of his American ranger company would have the advantage and, with just a little luck, be able to pry open the door into Germany for the rest of the corps.

  16 JANUARY

  Used to the night shift in the small town of Pegnitz, located in southern Germany, police Sergeant Julius Reusch found no difficulty staying awake and occupied. His silent companion, Ernst Ohlendorf, recently shifted from day duty, however, had long ago given up trying to entertain himself and had drifted off to sleep. Slouched in a seat opposite Reusch, Ohlendorf was hardly disturbed by Reusch's walking back and forth from his desk to the metal files as he sorted reports and documents that the day and evening shifts had not had time to file. Even when his lieutenant came in, flipping on the bright overhead lights, and told Reusch that he and Ohlendorf needed to go down to the rail yard and check out a report from an old woman that tanks were moving about down there, Ohlendorf didn't budge.

  After a great deal of effort, Reusch managed to get Ohlendorf moving, though barely. Every move, every exertion by Ohlendorf, still half asleep, seemed to be in slow motion. Reusch, accustomed to the difficulties that even young men had when shifting from day to night duty, was patient with Ohlendorf. They had time. The lieutenant hadn't seemed terribly concerned with the old woman's complaint. She had made the same complaint when the American Army had moved into the Czech Republic the previous December, and when the German armored units deployed along the Czech border had suddenly been shifted north several days ago. No doubt, Reusch's lieutenant had been right when he offhandedly commented that some brilliant military strategist in Berlin had made the startling discovery that the Czech border faced Bavaria as well as Berlin and that it might be a good idea to keep someone there as well. It would be, Reusch thought, just like the Army to hustle troops north in a great panic and then hustle them right back where they started from. While he checked Ohlendorf to ensure he had his uniform on right, pistol belt on, and hat straight before stepping out into the bitter cold, Reusch felt like an undertaker preparing a corpse. Half to himself, half to Ohlendorf, Reusch mumbled that a corpse at least was cooperative.

  Driving carefully along the slick, snow-covered streets, Reusch glanced about. There was no point, he figured, in going out without making the most of it. So he took a route to the rail yard that led him past some of the buildings and shops that needed to be checked on a regular basis. Though he would have preferred to have Ohlendorf do the checking while he tried to keep the police car from slipping and sliding, Ohlendorf had lapsed back into a deep sleep. So Reusch drove and made the checks on his own, steering with one hand most of the time.

  He was in the process of looking closely at the front of one of the banks when a vehicle with headlights mounted high above the ground came tearing around the corner from a side street. Without realizing what it was, and only catching a glimpse of the vehicle from the corner of his eye, Reusch had seen enough to know that if he didn't do something immediately, there would be a collision.
Jerking the steering wheel hard in the direction in which he had been looking, Reusch began to pump the brake. Despite his best efforts, however, the right front of the police car slid on the snow-covered street, hitting the rear of a parked car. This impact threw Ohlendorf forward and into the dash in front of him as the police car bounced off the parked car. Rather than bringing the car to a stop, the impact caused Reusch's car to spin out into the middle of the street, right into the path of the oncoming vehicle.

  Realizing that he had lost control and unable to do anything but pray, Reusch stopped fighting the steering wheel and, ignoring Ohlendorf's panicked cries, turned to face the vehicle that they were fated to hit. As terrible as his sudden loss of control and the collision with the parked car was to Reusch, it did not match his shock when he looked and saw the tracks of an armored vehicle, level and in line with his eyes, bearing down on him just a few meters outside his car door window. Though the commander of the oncoming M-2 Bradley had seen his car and was attempting to stop, the slick, snow-covered pavement carried it forward several more feet toward Reusch. There was only enough time for Reusch to close his eyes as he prepared to be crushed.

  From atop the turret of C60, the bumper number of her M-2 Bradley, Captain Nancy Kozak held her breath as the white and green German police car disappeared under the front slope of her Bradley. Preparing herself for the inevitable, Kozak winced, dropping down her open hatch and bracing herself. But instead of a sudden and crushing impact, Kozak felt little more than a slight shudder. Relaxing her grip, she slowly began to rise back out of her hatch, ever so carefully leaning forward as she did so in order to see what had happened to the German police car.