“So he’s been around the block too. Medals everywhere around here,” dismissed the American, actually annoying Arkady.
“Anything I can help you with before we move off Colonel?”
“Are the tank recovery team well practised Major? They seem to be taking their time down there,” swiftly changing the subject to mask his strange feeling of hurt for the British Officer and indicating a field of bogged-down armour and half-tracks with a gesture of his left arm.
“No sir. We sprung this on them as a surprise exercise. Part of the plan. It will take them a’whiles to get the vehicles back online.”
Yarishlov could not suppress the amusing thought about who had been practicing lying the most, for the American was being outrageous.
“Not same Sherman tanks to the one’s I had used Major.”
“Indeed sir? We sent you a few I believe and I’m sure they made all the difference. The Sherman is a good horse with plenty of firepower. Equal of the panzer in my view Colonel.”
Which it certainly was not but Yarishlov wasn’t going to argue with the man’s obvious lack of hard-won expertise on enemy armour, no matter how outrageous he was being. His view of Americans was nose-diving by the second.
“Still y’all had a good day. Makes nonsense of all the talk doesn’t it?”
“What talk might that be Major?” the annoyed Russian already preparing a similar response to the one Ramsey had received earlier.
“I mean all this nonsense about you maybe planning an attack on us Colonel. Spent a whole week in some French castle with some ex-kraut officers. Learning about your tactics just in case. Their top dog was ex-SS too”. The Major deliberately hawked and spat, solely to impress Yarishlov.
“Bastards got me transferred from my unit because they couldn’t deal with the fact that I was better than them.” The bitterness in his voice was extreme. “Cost me my bird for some time to come” Yarishlov evidently did not understand. “My bird,” tapping his collar, “Lieutenant Colonel’s rank. Won’t get that because of the attitude problem they reported I have.”
Yarishlov had a look on his face that Parker interpreted as support but that was actually something entirely different.
“Anyway, whole thing doesn’t scour at all. Waste of time. We all kicked the krauts out so why would we start on each other? Reckon it’s the goddamn Nazis agitating myself. Goddamned symposium nonsense. Hell, we’ve even got one of our own too!”
Parker let out a huge sigh.
“It’s enough to try the patience of a saint Colonel.”
Parker extracted his lucky strikes and proffered the pack to Yarishlov, who declined.
Parker lit up.
“Still I’m having a week’s furlough in the south of France soon as I can. Colonel, Biarritz, you should go there some time sir. Hell of a place for a man to relax.”
The Major just let it all come tumbling out without a care in the world. Had he looked more closely he would have realised that a Russian Lieutenant Colonel just had his antenna twitch. But he didn’t, so he had no idea that the Russian was making a mental note that this ‘symposium” was something he had to write up in his report on return. He also missed the look on the face of a Black Watch Major returning from his unnecessary call of nature, wondering incredulously whether he had just heard what he thought he had heard.
“I may well do Major,” was about all Yarishlov could say as he processed the look on the approaching Ramsey’s face.
Something was wrong, but what was it?
“Did you see much action Colonel?” was about the most stupid question the fool could have asked but it didn’t stop him from asking it.
“I saw a few battles Major, enough to satisfy my childhood desiring for such things.”
“We saw quite a bit ourselves of course,” which both Russian and Englishman knew was a crass lie, for both had discovered that the soldiers present had only been in Europe since early March, and at a time when the German was surrendering to anything that came from the west. It was different for the Russians of course. Their final days of combat had seen the bloody Armageddon of Berlin that had cost so many lives.
However, both men’s thoughts were still in turmoil. Ramsey working out what had been said; did he really hear the words “Biarritz” and ‘symposium”? Yarishlov replaying the event and trying to decide what exactly had happened.
“Anyway Major, now I must have piss of nature too. Goodbye and thank you. Major Ramsey.” Salutes exchanged and Yarishlov was gone.
Ramsey struggled to find a way to approach the matter without going at it head-on. So he did. “Did you tell the Russian about the symposiums Major?”
“Hell no, just told him we get a whole load of boring lectures that’s all.”
“And Biarritz? You mentioned Biarritz.”
“That’s where I’m going on furlough next week Major. Just told the Colonel that he might want to go there someday.”
Ramsey could not help think the very obvious thought that the Russians might well want to go there one day, in something painted green, but resisted further enquiries. He would have to mention this in his report anyway, so he would leave it for now. What Ramsey did know was that both words appeared on his top secret joining orders for 6th August, for a week’s special training. Secret was a word he understood and clearly the yank did not.
None the less, he took further stock of the young Texan in front of him and his eyes were drawn to an ornate emblem on his chest.
“May I enquire what that is for Major? It is very grand and must be important indeed.”
The American swelled and puffed out his chest.
“I got that for being second in my class at the Texas Military Institute Major. That reminds me. The Colonel said you have the Victoria Cross. What did you get that for?
“For being first in my class in the School of the Reichswald, Major. There were no prizes for being second. Good day to you.”
And with a salute that Ramsey had never meant less in his entire career, he strode off towards the Brigadier and his staff.
Yarishlov joined up with the Soviet entourage returning to Schlangen for a dinner with the American Staff. He was beckoned forward by the general.
“Ride with me Arkady Arkadyevich and tell me your thoughts.”
“Yes, Comrade General,” directing his own staff car to follow without him.
As the Mercedes-Benz, which had been appropriated some weeks before hand, started off on the short journey, Yarishlov spoke further.
“I believe that the unit we saw today is extremely inexperienced, unless the Americans are deliberately misleading us. I am not sure they are that clever.”
“You are right Colonel, they saw little action. We have no intelligence on a 15th Tank Division in any case but we know they have been in Europe for only a few months. However, it is not important. What is important to me is what you think of them?” The strange emphasis on the word “them” caused Arkady a moment’s puzzlement.
He replied with the truth as he saw it.
“They have neither the skills nor the equipment to function properly in the field. Their experienced units simply have to be better than these we have seen today or the green toads would have devoured them in an instant. The new Pershing tank looks nice but it floundered in modest mud as you saw.”
“Indeed. Whichever officer directed that second assault would be counting trees in Siberia now if he were one of mine.”
“One of yours would not have done such a thing Comrade General,” stated Arkady with total conviction.
“But what of them Arkady? What of them?”
“I spent some time with a British Major. He is a professional for certain Comrade General, as were the others British I saw.” He paused just long enough to consider the next statement. “The Americans I spoke to were fools. I saw not one man there who I would trust on my right-hand in combat Comrade General.”