Reynolds raised his head, still in shock. Three minutes of firing had been enough to stop the German brigade cold. Through his binoculars, he counted thirty dead tanks and as many APCs — slewed crazily at all angles amid the flattened wheat. There were no signs of life or movement. EurCon’s grand attack had been stopped.
No, he thought coldly, more than stopped. The Germans who’d come storming across those fields so boldly had been butchered. It would be a long time before the bastards recovered from this disastrous attack.
Alpha Company had held just long enough.
Half-deafened, Reynolds stood slowly and shook himself, like a man coming out of the water. Voices and engine noises replaced the silence, and he slowly began to realize that nobody was going to shoot at him in the immediate future.
As he gathered what was left of his company and set about finding out what Brigade wanted him to do, the roar of jet engines through the sky brought fear back up his throat again. A glance upward, though, showed them to be American and Polish planes, loaded with bombs and headed southwest. Flight after flight screamed overhead, hugging the earth on the way to their targets.
EurCon had reached its high-water mark. Now the tide was turning.
The steady flood of damaged tanks and horribly wounded men filtering back from Swiecie told its own story of defeat and despair, but radioed reports confirmed the worst.
Von Seelow put down the handset and looked at Leibnitz. His face was pale. “That was Major Schisser. Colonel Baum is dead, along with most of the 21st Panzer. The highway north is blocked by large numbers of tanks and missile vehicles. Our men came under intense fire just short of the woods.” He swallowed hard. “Casualties are very heavy — at least forty percent, probably much more.”
Leibnitz’s face was a mask of shock and repressed sorrow. Willi knew that the division commander and Baum had been friends for a long time. More telling than that was the destruction of the 21st Panzer Brigade — the follow on force for his own decimated command. Minutes before, Baum’s Leopards and Marders had been the leading edge of the German breakthrough, actually passing through the breach and headed full speed up the highway. Near full strength and unengaged, they should have been able to crush anything the Americans or the Poles could throw in their path. Instead, they were strewn across the open countryside — wrecked and on fire.
Beside the 7th Panzer’s stricken leader, General Cambon exclaimed, “Those woods were supposed to be clear!” He turned to face von Seelow. “Your brigade reported overrunning the American infantry there. Obviously your incompetent fools missed something.”
Sneering openly now, he challenged the two Germans. “Well, what will you do now?”
Willi set his teeth.
Leibnitz asked, “Is General Montagne willing to commit the exploitation force? We can keep the breach open…”
“Down!” Major Thiessen screamed.
The staff officer’s warning barely preceded the roar of enemy aircraft streaking low overhead. Bombs and cluster munitions tumbled off wing racks. Explosions rippled through the brigade area. Thick, choking smoke billowed over von Seelow and the others as they hugged the grass.
A few moments later, the jets vanished as quickly as they had come, having brought the battle back with them to brigade headquarters. Screams and low, pain-filled moans rose from those who had been wounded.
Willi, Leibnitz, and the Frenchman picked themselves up, brushing off the dirt and grass. As the men around them tried to regain control of the battle, Cambon declared, “We will not commit the 5th Armored without knowing more about the enemy positions north of Swiecie. It would be suicide to send more units into the same ambush.”
The Frenchman pointed to the map. “Here. Take your 20th Brigade and probe northward. Once you’ve pinpointed the enemy concentrations, we will decide whether to attack or bypass them.”
Leibnitz stiffened. “Impossible. The 20th is only at half-strength. That’s why we didn’t use it in the attack. It’s out of position as well.” His voice rose to a challenge. “Why waste precious hours shifting my last brigade when you have a full-strength French division, ready and waiting, with their motors running. Send it through the gap.”
Cambon sniffed. “Ridiculous. The corps’ plan is quite clear, General Leibnitz. ‘The exploitation force will be committed only after the 7th Panzer has secured the breach,’” he quoted. “It’s clear your men were not up to the task. I told the general that you Germans were fit only for garrison troops.”
That did it. Willi von Seelow’s eyes flashed and he nodded.
“True. In the last war we garrisoned Paris, Lyons, Cherbourg…”
Astonishingly, Leibnitz grinned.
“I won’t stand here and listen to this!” Cambon spluttered.
“Then leave,” replied Leibnitz calmly. “We’ve fought hard, and taken the losses to prove it. Those losses were justified only if the attack succeeded.” He stood close to the Frenchman, almost nose-to-nose. “And it won’t succeed now, not without help that you French bastards are unwilling to give. If that is true, then this battle, this war, is not worth the loss of another German soldier.”
Evidently shocked by the sudden turn of events, Cambon strode off. Once the Frenchman was out of earshot, Leibnitz turned to face von Seelow, his anger already sliding back to sadness. “Pull your troops back to the start line, Willi, and pass the order to Major Schisser as well. There’s good defensive terrain. We’ll reorganize there, and begin planning a fighting retreat, all the way back to Germany if need be.”
In one part of Poland at least, the Franco-German alliance was dead.
CHAPTER 36
Pressure Points
Unwilling to believe what he’d just read, Nicolas Desaix stared down at the message form he held crumpled in his hand. He looked up at Michel Guichy. “Montagne is sure of this?”
“Yes, very sure,” the Defense Minister growled. “This man Leibnitz and his subordinates have refused all of II Corps’ orders to renew the attack. They’ve even abandoned all the ground gained this morning. They may be preparing to fall back further.”
“Boche bastards!” The coarse epithet felt so good rolling off Desaix’s tongue that he repeated it. He tossed the message form aside. “Does Berlin know anything about this situation yet?”
Guichy shrugged. “Who knows? II Corps controls all land-line communications access to the 7th Panzer, but the Germans do have radios.”
“Damn.” By rights, the German Chancellor and his cabinet ministers should be equally appalled by their panzer division’s refusal to obey EurCon orders. Unfortunately Desaix was no longer sure he could predict Heinz Schraeder’s reactions. Russia’s state television had begun broadcasting reports of Kaminov’s secret negotiations with France. Since then, Berlin’s willingness to accept French political and military advice had perceptibly diminished. And in recent telephone conversations, Schraeder’s tone had grown notably tepid, even cold.
Another troubling thought struck him. “What about Montagne’s own German staff officers? Who controls them?”
“Unimportant, Nicolas.” The Defense Minister shook his head. “Our people already have General Wismar and his subordinates in ‘precautionary custody.’”
Desaix relaxed minutely. Though somewhat high-handed, General Montagne’s prompt action had at least blocked one path by which the 7th Panzer’s mutiny might have spread. Once this “insurrection” was snuffed out, apologies, compensation, and perhaps even a judicious promotion or two should soothe any ruffled German feathers.