It was crowded in the back of the truck, not a terrible situation in this cold. The residual body heat was welcome, and some guys even broke out blankets. They settled onto their seats, trying to get some rest and stay warm. This truck still had its canvas covering, which did zilch to keep the heat in, but it did break the worst of the wind.
“Sleep if you can,” Mulholland said. “Once we get to Bastogne, there won’t be much of that.”
CHAPTER TWO
Obersturmbannführer Ingo Bauer considered his options.
For days now they had been pushing through the hills and forests as the Germans advanced. He had called a brief halt while he got his bearings.
Bauer was a tall man in his forties, with dark hair and blue eyes that stood out in a face that seemed permanently tanned and lined from the summer months spent fighting across French fields, despite the fact that it was now winter.
Looking around, he saw that his men were cold and tired, some slumped in the snow or on patches of bare ground. The lack of discipline nagged at him, and he thought the men would be warmer if they had remained standing instead of resting upon the frozen ground, but he held back the command — Steh auf! Get on your feet! — that had already begun to form at the back of his throat.
He had to remind himself that some were only teenagers, pressed into service. There were still a few veteran soldiers, and he depended on them to keep the youngsters in line.
Toward the rear was a small group of American prisoners that they had swept up in the advance. The prisoners slumped to the snowy road, much like his own men.
What had happened to the unit that had set out so confidently from Germany just a short time ago? The cold and snow and constant fighting, that’s what. It had all taken its toll on the men.
Truth be told, it had taken a toll on him as well.
Had it really been just a few days ago that he had listened as Der Führer unveiled this plan to advance through the Ardennes Forest? Hitler and his planners had made it all sound so certain. Here in the cold and snow, with Allied forces digging in and not giving up, the plan seemed nothing but foolhardy, the Obersturmbannführer thought.
At least they were well equipped, with plenty of food and ammunition. The Germans also knew all about winter gear, and they were much better outfitted than the Allies. They were used to the constant gray of a European winter. The Achilles’ heel of the German campaign was proving to be fuel for the panzers and the tanks’ ability to traverse the narrow forest roads.
The sound of a throat being cleared interrupted his thoughts.
“What are your orders, Herr Obersturmbannführer?” asked Hauptmann Sepp Messner, who had appeared at Bauer’s elbow.
Bauer waited a moment before replying. It was just like Messner to address him formally, even though it was just the two of them talking, in the middle of a forest. He had encouraged the use of first names, but Messner definitely had an iron rod up his ass in that regard.
Bauer wondered whether he would ever hear the sound of his first name again.
He knew that Messner didn’t like him, and the feeling was mutual. Messner was a few years younger, but he was two inches taller and far more handsome than Bauer, not to mention that he came from a much wealthier background — just the sort of young officer who caught the attention of all the young ladies in Berlin. Messner resented the fact that a mere peasant such as Bauer outranked him. Bauer’s surname, in fact, meant “peasant” or “farmer” in German — a fact that Messner surely had not overlooked.
Perhaps it was petty, but it felt good to keep Messner waiting for a reply. He took his time studying the map he held, although he had long since memorized it. Their destination, the town of Bastogne, lay ahead.
“We move forward,” he said finally. “We will see if we can join up with the panzers. They can’t be too far ahead.”
“What about the prisoners?”
Bauer shrugged. The prisoners were the least of his concerns, considering that his unit had lost contact with the larger panzer force ahead as the result of having to sweep a couple of villages that the tanks couldn’t be bothered with. In the process, they had picked up a dozen American GIs who had basically been lost in the forest. “We will take them with us.”
“They require watching,” Messner said, disapproval apparent from the tone of his voice.
Bauer glanced over at the prisoners. He doubted that they would give anyone much trouble. They looked to be in even worse shape than his own men, if that was possible. The Americans lacked real winter gear, wrapping themselves in blankets and even burlap feed sacks to fend off the damp cold. Bauer supposed that he should let them eat something, but there wasn’t time. The expressions on the Americans’ faces ranged from blank to fearful. None of them looked defiant.
He turned back to Hauptmann Messner. “What else would you have me do with them, Sepp? Tell them to keep up. I want you at the rear to watch for stragglers.”
Of course, he knew very well that Messner was hoping that his commanding officer would order him to shoot the prisoners. Bauer had no such plans. He wasn’t sure how much of his reluctance to shoot the Americans came from a sense of simple decency toward enemy soldiers — and how much was inspired by the urge to annoy Messner.
There was also the fact that the rules of war had remained somewhat gentlemanly between the Germans and Americans. Sometimes there were regrettable incidents where prisoners on both sides had been shot, but those were isolated cases where passions had gotten out of hand or there was no expedient way to deal with prisoners other than to shoot them.
The truth was that the Allies wanted the Germans to feel comfortable surrendering — preferably in large numbers, as had happened at the Falaise Gap and other battles. The reasoning seemed to be that every German who surrendered was one less to fight.
In any case, these prisoners on the road weren’t Russians. Bauer would have been glad to shoot any Russians himself.
Through gritted teeth, Messner replied, “As you wish, Herr Obersturmbannführer. I will keep them moving.”
The Hauptmann walked off, and Bauer sighed. Having a malcontent as second-in-command only added to his headaches.
He felt that Messner was too reckless by far, taking chances and gambling with the lives of their men. For his own part, Bauer had begun to wonder whether there was a chance, even a slim one, that life would go on after this nightmare of a war was over. That hope was a bit like the faint light you saw on the horizon that hinted at dawn, even while the dark of night still enveloped you.
Of course, survival seemed to be a coin toss at the moment. They still had this day to get through. And if they were lucky, the next one after that. In war, you couldn’t think too far ahead.
Bauer hadn’t given up — he was a good German, after all — but he believed that only a fool could think that Germany would emerge triumphant after the beating they were now taking on two fronts. The way that Bauer saw it, the best option for Germany was some sort of conditional surrender or treaty. He suspected that the window was closing for any kind of negotiated peace, but if this battle in the Ardennes was successful, they still might get at least that.
Hauptmann Messner was one of those fools who still believed that total victory was possible.
Soon Messner was shouting at the prisoners to get on their feet. The unit began to move up the road.
From his maps, Bauer knew that their destination, the village of Bastogne, still lay several miles ahead. The crossroads town was essential to capture. The heavy tanks couldn’t manage the narrow roads through the hills, so the only way forward was through the town. Bauer had been told that, unfortunately for the Germans, the 101st Airborne and other units were putting up a stiff resistance. It would be vital for Bauer’s men to catch up with the panzers to create a more effective attack force.