Lavalle had some good news for the small group that knew ‘everything’.
“The preparation is complete, Gentlemen. Once Général De Lattre approves the operational planning, then we can commence, immediately our Russian friend gives the word.”
The battleground had been of the Soviet’s own choosing, fit for them to penetrate to the heart of the Allied defence, reaching the Swiss border, and opening up the possibilities of a drive into the French interior.
It was flat, reasonably dry, and almost perfect for a precise deep attack in strength, such as the Legion anticipated the enemy plan to be.
It was also a perfect killing ground.
“Ernst.”
Lavalle ceded the floor to the man who had conceived the plan.
“Gentlemen, once we know the timetable, and the timing of the enemy attack, we will initiate the withdrawal, as outlined in the Soviet document, falling back in front of their advance towards Colmar.”
Listening in was the cream of the Corps’ officers, Legionnaires and Americans, men who understood they were just about to be given an opportunity to inflict a huge defeat upon the communist forces.
“The valleys will be sealed with mines and other works, and defended sufficiently enough to discourage their reconnaissance. It will be a fine balance, meine herren, but they must not appear overly defended, or important. Nothing to encourage their interest, for obvious reasons.”
A chorus of assent encouraged Knocke to continue.
“Whilst we are openly falling back, we must not lose opportunities to hurt the Russian. In the opening stages, if we stick occasionally and bloody their noses, we will discourage too close a pursuit. That will help our withdrawal at the start.”
He grinned at the men around him.
“Don’t stick too well though, we want them kept hungry!”
The laughter showed that his experienced commanders were confident and at ease.
“Seriously, Kameraden,” Knocke occasionally lapsed back into the language of another time, “If you do stick, don’t lose the flank of the adjacent unit. We cannot afford gaps.”
Knocke tapped the map.
“Unless opportunities present themselves. We will hold for a while. The Aubach is where ‘Camerone’ and ‘Alma’ will first stand, and then we will invite them on to us, give them time to stack up before we move away, this time keeping them close if we can, as we give more ground.”
He moved past Selestat.
“We will cede Selestat to them. The capture of a major city will encourage them to believe.”
His finger drew a line between two points further to the south.
“Here, this line between Guémar and Elsenheim, this is where we will stand and hold them.”
He looked around the ensemble, his eyes dwelling on those whose units would eventually occupy the indicated defensive line.
“Your officers have already inspected the prepared positions. Any issues?”
St.Clair spoke.
“Sir, there was an issue with some badly sited secondary positions that has now been resolved.”
Von Arnesen followed.
“That was also an issue for us, Sir. Distances were wrong, and often they were too obviously placed. New alternatives have been prepared.”
Knocke accepted that his officers had resolved the issues, and continued the brief.
He cupped his hands around the area north of that defence line, embracing Selestat to the banks of the Rhine.
“We will halt them south of Selestat, and their next echelons will push forward, because we will have conditioned them to expect our withdrawal.”
With little movements of his hands, Knocke began to sweep the imaginary Soviet units into a pocket.
“They will press together in this area.”
Each man present could see it clearly, the hands holding Soviet mechanised units, bunched together, and ripe for the plucking.
“And, on the command, we will visit hell upon them.”
One American voice rose above the hubbub of excitement.
“Amen to that, Général Knocke.”
Brigadier General Pierce’s newly designated 16th US Armored Brigade had a pivotal role to play, partially because it was relatively fresh, partially because it possessed some of the USA’s newest tools of warfare, and partially because Pierce had sought the honour, and the opportunity to expunge the sad memories of August that it represented.
In harness with the detached Panzer regiment from ‘Camerone’, the 16th had a vital part to play in executing Plan Thermopylae.
The plan required the strength of ‘Camerone’, ‘Alma’, ‘Tannenberg’, and the 16th US, a force representing the cream of the Legion Corps’ units.
However, unknown to those in the briefing, the inclusion of ‘Tannenberg’, not part of the ‘Normandie’ Group, had resulted in a leak of information, one that brought an unwelcome visitor to their door, in the shape of General Molyneux, commander of the Legion Corps D’Assault.
The convoy screeched to a halt outside the station building, the sounds of doors slamming and imperious shouts rose as the entourage deployed.
Those present in the waiting room that served as the temporary headquarters for ‘Normandie’, resigned themselves to a haranguing at the very least. After all, much of what had been planned had been done without Molyneux’s knowledge.
Only De Walle seemed unfazed by the sound of marching boots, growing louder, as the man himself arrived at the door and entered with a flourish.
The assembly sprang to attention, and saluted.
As was Molyneux’s custom, he touched his cane to his cap in return.
Lavalle stepped forward.
“Welcome, mon Général. We did not know you were coming. Some coffee before I update you on our situation?”
“You were not informed of my arrival for a particular reason, Lavalle.”
He looked the immaculate soldier up and down, as if he was inspecting some dog mess in the street.
“You were not informed of my arrival, so that I could catch you and your little group in the act.”
For the first time, Lavalle and the others became aware of the two caporal’s, armed with Thompsons, innocuous at first, but now so obviously out of place, and present for a single purpose.
“I am here to arrest you all for treachery, for your intended betrayal of France!”
“There is no betrayal here, mon Général!”
“Really, Lavalle? Really?”
Molyneux lunged at the map, sweeping it up and inspecting it closely.
Finding nothing to support the information he had received anonymously, the infuriated General went at it head on.
“This map shows me nothing. No mark for a line of defence, no line for holding the enemy up, no plans for offense; nothing!”
Knocke went to speak.
The cane shot out like a rapier, falling just short of the German’s chest,
“You shut your mouth, you German bastard!”
For once in his life, Knocke was at a loss.
“So, have any of you traitors got anything to say, before I have you all court-martialled and shot?”
De Walle pushed his way through the tight-lipped men, emerging directly in front of Molyneux. His appearance caused the caporal’s to stiffen, their fingers shifting to triggers, ready to defend the man who had promised them promotions and leave.
“Général Molyneux, permit me to introduce myself. I am Général de Brigade De Walle, of ‘La Service de Documentation Extérieure et de Contre-espionage’”, extending his identity card, De Walle used the full formal title of his organisation, thinking that it added gravity to his status.