The emphasis on Knocke’s rank was not wasted on anyone present.
“Sir, I regret, but I cannot.”
The General grew red-faced immediately and went to speak.
Knocke cut him off in an instant.
“In the event that they permitted you to enter, in contravention of Corps standing orders, I would have no choice but to shoot them myself for dereliction of duty.”
The General’s eyes widened, and he wondered if the SS bastard would do it. Knocke could not see the two sentries behind him wondering the exact same thing.
An oppressive silence followed, during which the General stared into the eyes of the man in front of him, seeing there the character and resolve others had seen so often before.
Both Lange and Demarais spoke of it in hushed tones later, describing as best they could the silent battle of personalities, and trying hard to properly relate the discernable moment when the Frenchman knew he had been found wanting.
Knocke also relaxed, and gave the General a reasonable option.
“If I might offer an alternative, Sir? You were not to know of this standing order within the Corps. Perhaps Colonel Desmarais could examine your papers on their behalf, and then honour of both sides will be satisfied when they pass scrutiny?”
Colonel Paul Desmarais did not welcome being pulled into the confrontation but, in the spirit of the Legion, rallied to his comrade’s side.
The General, to everyone’s surprise, even his own, extracted his papers and passed them to Desmarais without a word, focussing his attention on Knocke.
“And what do these men know of honour, Colonel?”
The words could not have held more contempt.
Theatrically, Knocke turned abruptly to the sentries, who involuntarily stiffened, still expecting some sort of rebuke.
After spending a few moments examining each man in turn, exaggerating his close inspection of them from head to toe, he turned back and answered very deliberately.
“Sir, these men are legionnaires, and therefore they know more of honour than any fighting man in service today.”
The whole situation was surreal to the General, defied by private soldiers, aided and abetted by a senior officer, a German, and ex-SS as well.
‘I will shake these pigs up and make them into soldiers or my name isn’t Molyneux!’
His thoughts would have moved to revenge but for the interruption from Desmarais, returning his papers with due formality.
“All in order, Mon Général.”
The sentries snapped aside like hinged doors, presenting arms in the time honoured manner.
“You have not heard the last of this, Colonel Knocke, oh no.”
The General swept forward, acknowledging the presented arms with another wave of his cane, penetrating deep into the Hotel Stephanie in search of Lavalle.
Lange and Desmarais looked at Knocke as a butcher looks at the likely turkey on Christmas Eve.
“You know how to make friends don’t you!”
Desmarais’ face didn’t wholly convey the humour he intended, for Generals made terrible enemies.
The two sentries had recovered their stance and were motionless statues, mentally replaying the events that had tested them.
Knocke stood in thought before turning to his fellow officers.
“I think we are about to see a change around here, and not one for the better.”
Neither man could disagree as they entered the headquarters, ushered in by Knocke who remained at the back.
The Caporal clicked into the general salute position, closely followed by the younger legionnaire, the two paying a soldier’s homage to the man who had intervened on their behalf.
Demarais and Lange heard the movement and turned, witnessing an honour not normally afforded Colonels, but now being freely given by soldiers to one they held in high esteem.
Knocke was actually taken aback and stopped dead, examining each man in turn before his face split with a genuine smile.
He nodded, savouring the moment and made to enter, but again stopped.
His mind practised the words before he spoke them.
“Legio Patria Nostra, Kameraden,” the Legion motto slipping uneasily off his tongue, the German sentiment at the end forgivable in his concentration.
The younger man could not bring himself to say anything; not so the Corporal.
“Honneur et Fidélité, mon Colonel,” and in a lower, conspiratorial voice added, “Et merci. Merci bien.”
Knocke nodded and headed off in hot pursuit of the new arrival, leaving behind him two men who would tell their comrades of what had come to pass, and thus increase the legend.
Soon to be Général de Corps D’Armée Albert Roland Molyneux was visiting himself upon the unfortunate Lavalle and Bittrich, haranguing them for anything from the colour of the wallpaper to the paperclip found on the carpet.
Eventually, Molyneux moved to the recent matter, ordering that Lavalle place the sentries on a charge for their impertinence.
Knocke and his comrades arrived at that moment, and discovered that Lavalle too could hold his ground.
“I regret you have been inconvenienced, mon Général, but the men were acting under my express instructions, so I am unable to do as you request.”
“Then I will find someone who will! What sort of unit are you running, Lavalle?”
“The sort that obeys the orders of its commander, mon Général, and so I submit that I must also be arrested if my men are detained, as it was I that issued their orders.”
The frontline officers in the room had all met the man’s type before, and all dreaded being under the control of one so obviously useless and dangerously incompetent.
“Well. This time I will let it go. But, understand this!”
Molyneux turned around, scoping every man in turn.
“I will now be giving the orders around here.”
Stout hearts sank all around the room, as the possibility became the reality.
“I, Acting Général de Corps D’Armée Albert Roland Molyneux, am here to take command of the Legion Corps with immediate effect. I require a briefing from you and your unit commanders, with full details on all strengths and logistical stocks.”
Calling on all the arrogance of a member of France’s ruling class, bred into him within his mother’s womb, through to the tolerance of his bullying all the way from Aspirant to the rank of Général, he added, “I will take coffee in my suite now and return here in thirty minutes precisely. Be ready or I will replace you with more capable officers.”
Molyneux turned and strode out, satisfied that he had curbed the Legion officers for the moment, and determined to show them exactly who was boss, starting in thirty minutes.
Another officer arrived in the silence that held sway in the main staff room, the remaining presence of some of Molyneux’s officers preventing the outburst that most needed to clear their minds.
Unpeturbed, the American General strode up to Lavalle and saluted.
“General Lavalle?”
“Yes, I am Lavalle, Général. How may I help?”
“John L. Pierce, 16th Armored Group, Sir.”
The smartly turned out officer produced a sealed letter and passed it over with little ceremony.
“Coffee, Général Pierce?”
“That would be most welcome, Sir.”
A cup appeared in front of Pierce, smaller in size than his normal brew. His disappointment lasted until he realised that the hot liquid was of the finest quality.
The staff had started to pull together all information needed for the briefing.
Lavalle handed the envelope and contents to Bittrich.
“Well, Général Pierce, it seems you have arrived at an opportune moment. The Corps has just received a new General and I am no longer in command.”
Pierce had known about the change, part of which was brought on by his presence within the unit, and the need for a more senior rank.