Without returning the gesture, the nurse moved away from the bed, no longer obscuring the young soldier on guard duty.
‘Oh shit!’
The man wore the uniform of the NKVD.
Within the environs of Sittard, a desperate fight for survival was in full swing, soldiers standing toe to toe, neither side willing to give ground.
It was the recipe for a bloodbath.
For the Soviets, the situation was advantageous.
They had broken through the 101st’s lines at a number of points, breaking up the division into manageable pieces, each of which would be either bypassed and cleared up later, or, as in the case of the defenders of Sittard, reduced by weight of shot and attrition.
The only black mark was the destruction of the Born Bridge over the canal, an error that the commander of the 34th Guards Rifle Corps artillery had paid for swiftly, his body displayed with the normal placard suggesting treachery and sabotage, as it swung from the balcony of the unit headquarters on LindenStraβe, Saeffelen.
For the Allied forces, the situation was dire.
Elements of the 501st Parachute Infantry and Fallschirm Regiment ‘Von der Heydte’ provided the main manpower for the defence. Stragglers from the decimated 327th Glider Infantry continued to work their way back into the Dutch town, each soldier a welcome addition to its defence.
Add the remnants of a few smaller units and almost two thousand five hundred men stood in defence, against the might of the relatively intact 5th Soviet Guards Mechanised Corps, still boasting over twelve thousand men and women.
The main Soviet effort seemed to be to the south of town, undoubtedly aimed at passing on to the Maas beyond, but enough of the Mechanised unit was pressing Sittard directly, for the risk of being surrounded to be very real.
The Soviet command had also recognised that the assault aimed towards Venlo was failing in the face of heavy resistance, and had redirected some of the 5th Guards Army to a more southerly advance, bringing the 34th Guards Rifle Corps and 40th Rifle Corps into the northern edge of Sittard, adding their battle-weary seven thousand men to the unequal struggle.
At 1332hrs, the worst fears of those in Sittard, and those in the headquarters of the 18th Airborne Corps, were realised.
The 101st was surrounded again, and this time, there was no Patton to come to the rescue.
Brigadier General Joseph Higgins, the 101st’s Chief of Staff, waited for the assembly to come to order.
He had come to Sittard for an ‘eyes-on’ sit-rep, only to become its de facto commander, as the Soviet forces encircled the Dutch town.
Slowly, the noise died away, as the unit commanders he had summoned realised that Higgins was ready to speak. The pervading sound of the heavy rain, combined with the constant crash of incoming artillery, and now thunder, combined to provide a suitably Wagnerian backdrop for the military disaster that was unfolding in Eastern Holland.
“Ok, now listen in.”
The officers stiffened.
“We have a Bastogne all over again, and we got ourselves out of that then, without the Third Army, I might add.”
That wasn’t totally true as it happened, but it served Higgins’ purpose.
“This storm will pass, and then we will have Air, but until then, we stand, and we fight.”
More than one of the experienced men in front of him had the thought that there was nowhere to run to in any case.
“We have plenty of supplies, and our men are in top shape, with good morale; very good morale.”
On the bench in front of them was a map of the town, blocks of wood marking the position of each defensive unit.
Deliberately, Higgins started with the section to the south.
“Colonel Heydte, your men are holding well at this time?”
Although the Germans were welcome, few in the 101st could forget that it was the 6th Fallschirmjager Regiment ‘Von der Heydte’ that had fought them to a bloody standstill in Normandy, in hard battles around Carentan.
“Yes, Herr General. A panzer-grenadiere attack on Munstergeleen was driven off with heavy casualties. We are well provisioned with Panzerfaust, and stopped the first panzer assault here,” his finger pointed out the leading edge of Geleen.
“However, the enemy force shifted to our right flank, and moved on through Neerbeek, before turning back behind us, and coming to a stop at Urmond.”
Roughly one kilometre south of Berg, Urmond marked the high-water mark of the Mechanised Corps’ advance.
“We stopped them there, with the help of your Flak gunners, and our Belgian friends.”
The German’s understated report did not fool any of the experienced men present. The Fallschirmjager had paid in blood for successfully halting the enemy drive.
“I am fully committed, except for an alarm Kompagnie, equipped with a few half-tracks, in the centre of Geleen.”
“Thank you, Oberstleutnant,” Higgins deliberately used the German rank.
“And you, Colonel?”
Verier, the commander of the 5th Belgian Fusiliers, knew he was in esteemed company, but did not falter, knowing his inexperienced men would have a full part to play in the battle ahead.
“Mon Général, two of my companies are on the river at Urmond. I have one at Heksenberg, adjacent to Route 294, behind the Von der Heydte positions.”
Wiping an imaginary speck of dust off the map in front of him, Verier concluded.
“My remaining unit is around Einighausen, guarding the medical and supply facilities, Sir.”
When the Fusiliers had first been assigned, not one officer in the 101st felt they could be trusted, despite their previous good efforts during ‘The Bulge’, but Verier’s unit had shown fighting spirit and, with the addition of some heavy machine-guns and bazookas, was proving to be stubborn in defence.
“Thank you, Colonel. Lieutenant Colonel?”
The recently promoted Marion Crisp stepped forward and adjusted the position of two of the wooden blocks.
“I pulled back from this position outside of Wehr. Soviet infantry had taken Broeksittard and had some of my units outflanked.”
No criticism was forthcoming, as it was the only possible move.
“That actually freed up Fox Company, and we put in a counter-attack, pushing up the Tüddernderweg, and we halted the advance here,” he moved the Fox marker to a position one kilometre short of Tüddern.
“Easy Company is here. Lieutenant Colonel Heydte’s defence of Munstergeleen deflected the Soviets our way, but Easy stopped them dead, and we hold this zone solidly.”
“The rest of 2nd Battalion is strung out to the north of Munstergeleen to the Wehr road. 1st Battalion takes over on the road, and round to Limbricht,” he indicated a small hamlet to the north-west of Sittard.
“3rd Battalion has suffered badly.”
He picked up the marker for King Company and, respectfully, placed it off to one side.
The whole company had fallen in the defence of Nieuwstadt and Isenbruch in the early stages, the extent of the loss only recently apparent to the temporary commander of the 501st Regiment.
“Part of the 3rd is outside the pocket, here at Born, and they are holding. I suspect the commies ain’t interested in it any more, since they took the bridge down themselves yesterday.”
To the others, that seemed a fair conclusion.
“I’ve managed to form a group from the remnants of 3rd, and they are holding from the canal here, at Graetheide,” his finger ran southeast, one and a bit kilometres to Guttecoven, “To here, where they link up with 1st Battalion.”