Picking up his coffee, he moved to the window next to Lavalle.
The dispatch arrived and was accepted by Bittrich, who immediately passed it on to his commander.
Finishing the rest of his coffee, the German noted the obvious surprise as Lavalle read the message.
“More coffee, Sir?”
“Yes please, Willi,” and the Frenchman passed over his empty mug without taking his eyes off the paper.
By the time Bittrich had refilled both mugs, the message had been read.
“This is a warning order, Willi. How’s your French now?”
The German exchanged Lavalle’s mug for the order.
“We shall see, Sir.”
The German scanned the paper, checking a couple of words with his commander before surrendering the document.
“When? Where?”
“It doesn’t say. Nothing specific. Just…,” Lavalle searched for the relevant part and, on finding it, read it word for word, “… Prepare to move your command by rail to a location in Eastern France on receipt of a verbal order with written confirmation to follow.”
“Last time I heard something like that it concerned Vienna in ’45.”
A matter of which Lavalle had no knowledge at all, but that didn’t stop him from understanding exactly what Bittrich meant.
“At least they have included rolling stock capacities. That will enable us to plan that side of things, Willi.”
“We need to know where we are going too. That would help.”
The grumbling continued as the two sorted their way through the whole document.
As they concluded, agreeing that senior officers were the same in all armies, ‘La Camerone’s’ Commanding officer arrived.
Knocke, despite his own version of the mixed uniform, looked every inch the perfect soldier; clean, smart and professional.
Like Bittrich, he wore boots and gaiters, although his were of German origin. His trousers were American issue olive drab, crowned with his black Panzertruppen jacket, Death’s Heads removed from the lapels in favour of the French rank markings of a colonel. The famous black tunic was sporting all Knocke’s awards and displayed the new Corps badge and armband. However, his armband carried the legend ‘Camerone’ instead, to denote his unit affiliation. In truth, there were few such unit armbands as yet distributed, but, as more became available, the whole unit would eventually carry the distinctive markings.
On his head he wore his old M38 side cap, again the eagle exchanged for the new insignia. Whilst Haefeli’s kepi had been an honour granted by an officer of La Legion, Lavalle sought guidance from higher authority before permitting its general use, a stance that Knocke understood perfectly.
Saluting Lavalle, and being honoured in return, he removed his cap and silently enquired for news.
“I assume your antennae just twitched then, Ernst?”
Bittrich grinned at the Panzer commander, handing him the drink he had just poured.
“I saw the dispatch rider leaving. Plus, I have some requests to submit, Sir.”
Lavalle put Knocke in the picture as best he could, which gave the man only headaches and no answers.
“I will expect that your brigade will be first away with a cadre from my headquarters. Once we know when and where, we will write proper orders. Until then, make sure you are ready to implement a full unit displacement.”
“Yes Sir.”
“How long until you can implement?”
Knocke considered the matter for the briefest of moments.
“I can move up to the ramps and commence within the hour. I would expect to have my whole Brigade loaded within five hours, if the stock is in place Sir.”
From another man it might have seemed like a wild claim or bravado. Both senior officers accepted it for what it was; a fellow professional who knew his men and his business inside out.
Lavalle failed to hide his smug look and moved on.
“You have requests you said? What do you need, Ernst?”
“At the moment, my maintenance crews are working miracles, and everyone one of my tanks is running. That cannot last, Sir.”
Lavalle looked at Bittrich, who understood perfectly, and moved to his table, seeking a particular folder.
The French officer gestured Knocke to continue.
“Sir, I know Uhlmann and St.Clair are out and about scavenging for parts, and that will help. But my need is also for personnel, trained maintenance personnel, or I risk having the tanks and the parts but no one capable of marrying the two. My engineering crews are out on their feet Sir, and mistakes are starting to be made.”
Lavalle asked the most obvious question.
“How many men do you need, Colonel?”
“If I had another forty trained personnel the problem would be gone, Sir.”
That drew a smile from the Frenchman.
“That I cannot do but,” and he nodded his thanks to Bittrich who had provided the necessary document, “There are eleven panzer maintenance personnel on their way here as we speak, 17th SS Panzer-Grenadiere Division prisoners taken by the Resistance in Normandy. They ended up languishing in a civilian prison, forgotten or ignored. Either way, they should be here tomorrow or the day after.”
Lavalle returned the document to Bittrich.
“That is a start, Ernst,” and looking at Knocke’s expressionless face, he felt compelled to continue, “Not enough but a start.”
“Thank you, Sir. The movement preparation order may make things difficult, as we may not be here tomorrow or the day after. But I have an idea for now, one that should provide a long term answer.”
“Your solution?”
“Is there any reason why non-SS cannot serve here? Unless I am mistaken there is not.”
Lavalle pondered but remained silent, encouraging Knocke to continue.
”In which case, seek volunteers from the forming German units and the existing camps around here, requesting trained personnel and organise their immediate transfer.”
“And?”
“Personnel who have mechanical experience can be of use, to do some of the heavier manual labour. I do not doubt that such people can be found in a range of places and units, Sir.”
“I do see a problem, Ernst. The orders.”
Knocke conceded with a nod.
“I had not anticipated a movement order, Sir, but we may yet have time to bring in some new personnel from the local camps to help my mechanical engineers.”
Lavalle had absolute trust in the judgement of the man in front of him and made sure he demonstrated that whenever possible.
“I will get you some more men, Ernst, you may count on it.”
Knocke stood, putting his empty mug on the side table.
“Thank you, Sir. I will return to my duties and get my unit ready.”
Replacing his side cap, he gave a smart salute and left.
Back in the less than impressive hut that presently served as the headquarters of the 1st Legion Chars D’Assault Brigade ‘Camerone’, Knocke called together his officer group, less Uhlmann and St.Clair, who were still out scavenging.
Frenchmen, Germans, and a smattering of officers from a kaleidoscope of nations, answered his summons and received the warning order on the Brigade’s movement.
The questions, when invited, were predictable.
“Menschen, you know what I know. It will be Eastern France and we will go by rail. That by itself is information from which we can glean much.”
Turning to the map pinned on the wall between the two windows, Knocke stepped to one side so that the majority could follow his reasoning as he fingered the map.
“The new siding is not yet complete, so we will have to load up at le Bas de Pont.”
A French officer cut in, complaining that the loading ramps there were not yet finished either.