That was particularly true of the Hürtgenwald, scene of intense fighting during the German War, where the boot was now on the other foot, with US divisions in defence on favourable terrain.
Everything seemed right; was right.
Eisenhower lit another smoke from the dying cigarette he had started at the sound of the telephone ringing and Bradley’s first words.
He went through his checklist yet again.
‘The plan is good, and we’ve been over it time and time again… check.’
‘Weather… good as it can be for us… check.’
‘Enemy responses… none as yet… check.’
‘All assets in place… all in place… check.’
‘Supplies… we’re well provisioned and want for nothing… check.’
‘Morale… spoiling for a fight, so George says anyways… mind you, so does Guderian… in his way… check.’
The cigarette leapt to and from his lips with every thought.
Suddenly, the filter stopped a few millimetres from Ike’s lips.
‘Feel worse than D-Day, don’t you, bud? So what’s wrong then, eh?’
The answer would be supplied before midday.
“This is worse than fucking Kursk.”
Petrov couldn’t argue, as he hadn’t been present at the great defeat of the German invaders.
Not that it mattered, as he knew what his commander, Marshal Kirill Meretskov, Konev’s replacement as OC 2nd Red Banner, meant.
Anyway, the Marshal hadn’t been there either.
They had done the best they could in the time they had been given, the hours since the warning spent adjusting, preparing, reinforcing, replenishing, and waiting.
Above all… waiting.
Petrov knocked back the small vodka the two men had permitted themselves, placing his empty glass alongside that of his boss.
Meretskov finished reading the letter from his protégé, the young Stelmakh, folded it, and put it back in the envelope, his mind suddenly filled with thoughts of his old comrade, Georgii Stelmakh, killed by the Luftwaffe in 1942.
He waived the envelope at Petrov.
“The boy’s doing well, Tovarich. Just like his old man it seems.”
Permitting himself a smile at the memory of his old friend, Meretskov stretched, and watched as the clock ticked its way to 10 o’clock.
“It is begun, Ivan.”
As if to emphasise the moment, a phone rang, its trill sounding more urgent than normal to the ears of men whose wait was now over.
Hitler had done it in 1940, and again in 1944.
It had seemed more than reasonable to the Allied planners that their forces could do it going the other way in 1945. Better supplied, better equipped, and with air superiority over the battlefield.
One thing that was not really appreciated was the difference in opposition.
In 1940, it had been an unprepared and poltically demoralised French Army.
Four years later, in the main, it had been US Army units that received the onslaught, many new to war, some more experienced but so tired and battle weary; all unprepared.
The element of surprise had been key on both occasions.
The lack of it was to be key to many a young man on this occasion.
Allied planning for the opening of Spectrum Blue, the opening ground attack of the Spectrum Operations, required fighter-bomber strikes throughout the rear areas of the Soviet front, particularly to deal the legendary Soviet artillery a deathly blow.
Heavy bombers were targeted against the crossing points on the Rhine and other watercourses, both hamstringing any movement of reserves and munitions, as well as denying an escape route for the frontline formations.
On the ground, three main thrusts pushed out from the Allied lines.
From Nuess and Wersten came the German 101st Korps, pushing down the Rhine on either bank, its sights set firmly on Cologne.
To the south, US 17th Corps, part of US Third Army under George Patton, was tasked with making the running through the Ardennes to meet the German Korps at Cologne, trapping 6th Guards Tank Army and 5th Guards Army in a pincer movement.
Additionally, US 3rd Corps was to assault towards Koblenz, and the junction of the Mosel and Rhine.
Whilst the land was white, there was no falling snow, and visibility was excellent across the battlefield, permitting ground-attack aircraft to successfully engage, bombers to hit their intended targets, and artillery spotters to bring their enemy under close scrutiny.
The Allies advanced relatively unopposed.
Up to two minutes ago, the advance had been a relative breeze, with only the occasional resistance from a seemingly broken Red Army.
Signs of hasty flight were everywhere, although not all Soviet soldiers had managed to escape.
Only at Reuth had it been a problem for the 90th US Infantry, and Captain Towers had lost half a dozen men in a few minutes of frenzied activity.
Love Company of the 359th Infantry Regiment had moved off the main route to check out the small village.
The welcome of the local populace was cut short by the stammering of a DP 20.
Four GI’s and twice as many civilians had been put down in the first burst. Two more of his men died during the storming of the Chapel, along with four of the Soviet soldiers who had been left behind.
Two others found themselves in the hands of the enraged townsfolk, and were beaten to death before Towers could intercede.
Had he been so inclined.
Love Company had radioed in a contact report and was immediately rewarded by being ordered to take point as the slated unit, King Company, had a mine problem at Stadtkyll.
One platoon of K had attempted to manouveure around the deadly mined ground, and found itself in L Company’s area, so was swiftly attached to Towers’ command.
So, with orders for swift movement still ringing in his ears, Towers pushed his men forward, trading a little caution for speed of advance, right up to the point that mines became the least of his problems.
Five halftracks were knocked out, some burning, some just resembling Swiss cheese, some of the enemy heavy machine-guns equipped with ammunition capable of penetrating the armour plate. The 12.7mm DShKs claimed victims amongst the men packed in each vehicle.
One vehicle disgorged its crew, the men heading for the cover of a gully that proved to be a deadly nest of anti-personnel mines.
The explosions continued long after the squad of men had been ripped to pieces by unforgiving metal.
Mortar shells were arriving all over the area around the stranded advance party.
Handset to his ear, Towers shouted and waved his fully functioning arm at his men.
“Get back into cover, goddamnit! Baines! Baines! Back there… move back there!”
