THE TEN THOUSAND

by Harold Coyle

  Seeing that everyone had made it and was caught up, Pape bent down and informed Rasper. Standing back up, but before turning around, Pape pulled the gray German Army scarf up over his mouth and his goggles down over his eyes. Ready, he faced front just in time to see the open Volkswagen staff car with Ilvanich and Sergeant Couvelha pull back onto the road from a small rest stop where it had been waiting for the trucks. Off in the distance Pape could barely make out the autobahn bridge over the Fulda River that they were to secure in advance of the Tenth Corps. Though it was now less than a kilometer away, it was partially obscured by fog and mist. The Russian major kept telling everyone in the company that the gloomy, gray overcast sky was good for the corps, since it limited aerial surveillance by the Luftwaffe and German Army helicopters. The worse the weather, he told everyone, the faster we go. To Pape, however, that same depressing scene only meant that they would spend another cold, dark, and miserable night with their asses hanging way out in front of the rest of the corps, waiting for someone to come along and relieve them before the Germans found them out and killed them all.

  Not that he wouldn't have preferred a good stand-up fight. Anything, Pape thought, was better than tromping around in enemy territory waiting for someone to discover who they really were. That, to Pape, was nerve-racking. To a cocky young man full of piss and vinegar, infiltrating enemy lines in advance of the corps' main body to secure key terrain and bridges lacked glamour, though he was finally beginning to realize what being a ranger was all about. Slowly the whole operation to him was turning out to be just like ranger camp. The only difference was that instead of having to make long, grueling, back-breaking treks through the Florida swamps, they got to ride. That and the fact that if they screwed up this patrol there wouldn't be a next patrol. For that matter, as he watched Ilvanich's Volkswagen slow as it approached a roadblock on the highway manned by real German soldiers, there wouldn't be a next anything. Reaching forward with his right hand, Pape grasped the bolt lever in the palm of his upturned hand and gave it a jerk back, cocking the weapon just in case Ilvanich couldn't convince the real Nazis that they were, as Rasper would say, good little Nazis too.

  Too cold to leave the warmth of the fire they had started on the side of the road, the two German Army engineers waved Ilvanich through with no more than a glance. Angered by this lack of soldierly vigilance, Ilvanich was about to stop to yell at the German Army engineers for failing to challenge him. After considering the matter carefully, however, Ilvanich decided not to Though he knew that a good German Army captain would do so, there was always the possibility that he just might play his role too well, causing the German soldiers to react by asking him for documents and identification that he did not have. Besides, he did not know for sure how his American rangers would react to such a challenge. Although he had no doubt that they were all good men, he'd had little time to work with them. Neither he nor the Americans had been able to establish the working relationship that allowed commander and soldiers to react intuitively as one in the short time that they had been together. So Ilvanich allowed the transgressions of the German Army engineers to go unpunished. They would someday pay for that. Turning away, Ilvanich motioned to Couvelha to head for a group of military vehicles parked under the autobahn bridge.

  Even before he stopped, a young lieutenant of pioneers, German combat engineers, strolled up to Ilvanich's staff car and gave Ilvanich a casual salute. Without waiting for Ilvanich to return the salute, the young German lieutenant smiled as he spoke. "Well, can't say that I'm not glad to see you and your company. We've been finished for hours, waiting to get out of here and find someplace where we can warm up." Glancing beyond the lieutenant, Ilvanich saw the rest of the engineer platoon warming themselves around a barrel with fire in it. Again deciding not to criticize, Ilvanich simply nodded as he returned the lieutenant's salute. Looking about at the underside of the bridge to study the handiwork of the German engineers as he slowly got out of the staff car, Ilvanich, almost absent-mindedly, began to question the lieutenant. "Must have taken most of the day to prepare this target."

  "Actually, we started yesterday and finished this morning, Herr Captain. It was a bit too much to work on it during the night. The cold and all, you know."

  No, Ilvanich thought, I don't know. These Germans, he thought, were not as good as he had expected. Perhaps, he thought, this was just a lazy unit. And if this unit wasn't an isolated case, if the whole German Army was as bad, the Americans just might be able to pull off this insane plan after all. Shaking his head, Ilvanich turned and faced the lieutenant. "Do you have written orders?"

  The lieutenant nodded. "Well yes, of course."

  Ilvanich didn't need to pretend that he was losing his patience with the German officer. He really was. "Well, Lieutenant, let me see them now."

  Startled by Ilvanich's sudden demand, the lieutenant jumped slightly. "Well, I have to go get them from my map case, Herr Captain."

  Narrowing his eyes into a piercing glare that sent a shiver down the German engineer lieutenant's back, Ilvanich leaned forward and snarled, "Well why don't you do that, Lieutenant."

  While he waited for the orders, Ilvanich looked back at his own trucks. With little talking, the rangers of Company A had dismounted and were gathering around the rear of Fitzhugh's truck. Only Pape, manning the machine gun in the lead truck and providing Ilvanich cover, remained behind. And of course Jefferson and his Pepper Platoon were ready to pounce at the first sign of trouble. A few chuckles and muted laughter told Ilvanich that Rasper was using his fractured German to form up Fitzhugh's platoon. He had heard Rasper practice it and had found it amusing. Commands such as "Fallin zee in," and "Mockin much snell, now," mixed with Rasper's lazy Texas drawl, brought smiles to everyone, even the normally solemn Ilvanich. This, however, was not the time, Ilvanich knew, for such antics. Barking out in German to Fitzhugh to knock it off, Ilvanich's booming voice caused everyone in the area, real Germans and rangers, to stop what they were doing and turn toward Ilvanich.

  At the rear of the column, Fitzhugh, realizing that Ilvanich was yelling to him, moved to the side of the last covered truck, where Sergeant Jefferson was, and stopped. With no idea of what Ilvanich wanted because he couldn't speak German, Fitzhugh looked toward Ilvanich but whispered to Jefferson, who spoke the language fluently. "What's the major want, Sergeant Jefferson?"

  Seeing that he had an excellent opportunity to mess with what he called his favorite lieutenant, Jefferson took liberties with his translation of Ilvanich's order. "The major said, 'Lieutenant Fuzz, if you don't pull your head out of that lily white ass of yours and get that platoon under control, I'm going to come down there and stick my size twelve Russian boot up your butt.' "

  Fitzhugh shook his head and smiled to himself. "But the major doesn't wear a size twelve. Please ask him, Sergeant Jefferson, to repeat his last order, just to make sure you got it right."

  Silence followed by muted chuckles told Fitzhugh that he had stumped Jefferson. "Okay, fun's over. I'll get my people under control. Please do the same to yours. Supply trucks, especially German Army supply trucks, Sergeant Jefferson, don't laugh."

  Back at the head of the column, the engineer lieutenant returned with the orders. Ilvanich took them and read them carefully. As he was doing so, the German lieutenant commented that he had never thought that he would be given such orders. Ilvanich, pausing, looked about at the gathered German pioneers, then up at the underside of the autobahn bridge at the explosives that he and his rangers would soon be removing. A smile slowly began to creep across his face as he looked down at the German officer. "Funny," Ilvanich said. "Somehow I always knew that I'd be doing exactly this."

  Struck by the captain's strange reaction, the engineer lieutenant didn't comment as Ilvanich went back to reading the orders. The captain, the lieutenant thought, was the hard, cold, and very proper Prussian type. He could see it in the captain's face, in his voice, even in the way he wore his short hair and uniform, all very milit
ary and very proper. The captain, judging from his accent, had to be an easterner, the lieutenant decided. He was right. He just didn't realize how far east Ilvanich really came from.

  Finished, Ilvanich folded the orders and turned to place them in his own map case sitting on the side of his staff car's seat. The orders, official German military orders, gave Ilvanich documentation that he didn't have before that might be useful in bluffing his way through a tight confrontation with other, more alert German officers. When the German lieutenant protested Ilvanich's taking of the orders, Ilvanich demurred. "Your work here is finished. They told you to prepare this target for demolition and then wait for either orders to execute it or to turn it over to another unit that would guard it or execute it for you. My orders, all verbal unfortunately, are to relieve you of responsibility for this target."

  Still unsure about leaving Ilvanich with his orders, the lieutenant countered. "I was expecting to be relieved by elements of the 2nd Panzer Division. A staff officer from that division was by here a few hours ago warning me that they would be delayed another ten to twelve hours at least. They are supposed to establish blocking positions here while linking up with the 10th Panzer Division to the east."

  "Did this staff officer say where that link-up was to be made?"

  Not suspecting that Ilvanich's question was anything other than idle curiosity, the lieutenant nodded. "Yes, Herr Captain. He said that the link-up would be somewhere east of Alsfeld. Once they had made that link-up, the staff officer said that the Americans would be forced either to stop and give up their race for the sea or attack. Quite frankly, Herr Captain, I think the staff officer was hoping that the Americans would attack. There are some officers I know who are looking for a fight."

  Looking back at Fitzhugh and his platoon, ready to move forward and assume control of the massive autobahn bridge as soon as the German engineers were gone, Ilvanich shook his head. "Well, Lieutenant, if those officers knew the Americans like I do, they would think twice before messing with them. Now, unless there's something else that you need to tell me, I accept responsibility for this site and relieve you and your platoon."

  Glad to be finished, the lieutenant told Ilvanich that as far as he could see all was in order. Saluting, he turned to gather up his men and equipment. The German engineers left the bridge without a second thought, leaving Ilvanich and Company A to disarm the masses of explosives the Germans had worked so hard to emplace and to pass on to the Tenth Corps G-2 the information Ilvanich had been able to glean from them.

  While Ilvanich and the rangers of Company A secured the autobahn bridge east of Niederjossa, the lead elements of the 4th Armored Division prepared to make their next leap forward. Like a great Slinky toy moving across the face of Germany, each night the Tenth Corps would spring up, stretch out, move forward, and then collapse on itself further north than the night before. While that simple analogy might make Malin's "March to the Sea" understandable, the actual complex process of moving a corps with over 75,000 soldiers and 30,000 vehicles defied the ability of any one person to really understand the process. For it entailed more than simply lining up vehicles and putting them on the road.

  In the first place, the Tenth Corps had to be prepared to fight. Combat maneuver units, armored cavalry squadrons, tank battalions, and mechanized infantry battalions marching in the lead, on the flanks, and in the rear of the corps, had to be arranged so that they could bull through a blocking position or turn and defend the rest of the corps from a thrust from a German unit. This requirement dictated the order and manner in which combat support units followed. The march tables of artillery units had to conform to the movements of the tank and infantry units so as to allow the artillery units to rapidly set up and fire in support of the combat maneuver units if they made contact with German units determined to fight. The result was that the Tenth Corps, instead of moving forward as one large Slinky toy, in reality consisted of thousands of tiny company-and platoon-sized Slinkys. Moving at different times along different routes and to different locations, these separate companies and platoons tried hard to be at the right place at the right time without ensnaring with each other, a feat that they achieved most of the time but not always.

  Mixed in with the combat maneuver units were the ubiquitous engineer units, ready to jump forward in front of the combat maneuver units to bridge a river or to clear an obstacle. To protect the ground elements from attack by German aircraft, which already were flying over the long columns with great regularity, were air defense units armed with heat-seeking and radar-guided missiles such as the Stinger and the Patriot. These units, relying on a system of interlocking early-warning radar, had to conform both to the needs of combat maneuver units and the leapfrogging forward elements of the radar network to cover the entire corps.

  Within the complex and intricate layering of combat and combat support units were the combat service support elements. Signal units like the air defense radar units had to leap forward in well-planned jumps so as to maintain the communications between units and their superior headquarters. Supply and transportation units, collectively known as trains at every level from battalion to corps, had to move forward to refuel and resupply all elements of the corps, to include themselves. This process was extremely elaborate, made more so by the fact that the entire corps was moving up through Germany like a great bubble. Supplies and fuel, therefore, had to flow in all directions, out from the center and not just from the rear forward as was normally practiced. This complication alone made the already challenging task of meeting the needs of combat and combat support units while the support units themselves were moving a task that defied description.

  Mixed in with the supply and transportation units as part of the trains were the medical and maintenance units, one responsible for retrieving and tending to wounded soldiers and the other for recovering and repairing, if possible, the damaged or broken-down vehicles and equipment left in the wake of the advancing corps. Like the supply units, the task of these elements of the trains was complicated by the fact that this was not a normal textbook operation. Neither the hospitals nor the maintenance units would be able to stop and fully set up their operations. They, like everyone else, would be in an almost constant state of movement or preparation for movement. This alone made it impossible to provide all the necessary services that they were capable of. As with every other support element, the need to deal with the evacuation of wounded in all directions, not just from front to rear, made their tasks more arduous and demanding.

  That, however, was not the most difficult part of the operation for these dedicated professionals, both in the medical and maintenance fields. The standing orders issued before the beginning of the march established demanding criteria to be used in deciding which wounded soldiers and damaged vehicles would be worked on and kept with the corps and which would be left behind. Those wounded whose lives or limbs would be endangered if kept with the Tenth Corps would be left in the hands of German medical services at the nearest hospital. Damaged or broken-down vehicles and equipment would be abandoned and destroyed if deemed unrepairable in the time available or if parts were not available. While it could be easily argued that there was no comparing the two, wounded personnel and disabled vehicles, the dedication of the officers and soldiers in the maintenance units to the accomplishment of their duties is no less real and pressing than that of their counterparts in the medical units.

  While Ilvanich and his rangers worked to clear the corps' line of march, the personnel of the 553rd Field Hospital prepared for another night of aimless wandering. Hilary Cole was charged that night with supervising the transfer of three Tenth Corps soldiers injured in traffic accidents over to the Germans. Leading the stretcher bearers carrying the wounded personnel from the ward tent of their field hospital set up in the parking lot of a German civilian hospital into the emergency room of the German hospital, Cole pondered the wisdom of leaving Americans behind. Though all three Americans had sustained internal injuries in sep
arate incidents that required a recovery period of rest and care that a moving field hospital could not provide, the idea of leaving fellow countrymen in the hands of "The Enemy" bothered Cole.

  Leading the small parade of litter bearers and wounded, Cole was greeted by a German nurse whose English was about as bad as Cole's German was. The German nurse, an older heavy-set woman with a round face and dressed in an immaculate white uniform, was seated behind a counter when Cole and her charges entered. After shouting out something in German to Cole that she did not understand, the German nurse stared at Cole for several seconds, looking her up and down with obvious disdain. Cole, like everyone else in her unit, had been unable to take proper care of herself or her personal needs. Moving about in what had appeared to her and the other nurses of the 553rd to be a totally random fashion, without ever knowing where they were going or when they would get there, unable to fully set up their hospital and the living areas for the staff, left Cole looking and feeling miserable, dirty, and haggard.

  Realizing that everyone in the hospital was staring at them, half unsure what to do and half disgusted, Cole decided that she needed to assert herself. As much as she hated the idea of leaving her wounded here in the hands of foreigners, she knew in her heart that it was the right thing to do. The fact that she couldn't even properly care for herself made her realize how foolish it would be to saddle the 553rd with severely injured soldiers. When it became obvious that the Germans were not going to make the first move, Cole motioned for the stretcher bearers to set the wounded down, took off her helmet, and walked over to the counter where the big German nurse sat. Though she suspected that the German nurse wouldn't understand the words, Cole hoped that she would understand the meaning. Supplemented with motions of her hand, Cole tried to explain who she was and what they were there for. "I am a nurse. Those soldiers are injured and we cannot take them with us. We have an arrangement with your hospital to leave them. Who do I see to make the transfer?"