Temporary Headquarters,
20th Armored Division
Major General Mark Green, Commanding
Outside of Baby, France
July 23rd, 1946
06:34 hours
The huge new American tanks try to maneuver through their tight turns, just outside of a hastily-erected command tent. The tanks are the newest in the U.S. arsenal, the M-26, also known as the ‘Pershing.’ A few seem to be having trouble making the steep grades just out of sight. Gears can be heard grinding and crunching, as the engines come close to stalling. One finally does and the driver, with his commander cursing at him, tries to restart the machine. All the commotion attracts the attention of a harried officer, who rushes to enter the command tent.
“Get your ass in here Cole! I’m tired of running. We need to get some combat experience for these raw recruits in the division. I want you to put Regimental Combat Team Able southwest, along the river. Assign Regimental Combat Team Baker to cover the bridge and Regimental Combat Team Charlie to northeast, also along the river. Put Armored Task Force Patton in reserve, behind Team Baker. It’s time to see how those new Pershings stack up against the Soviets’ best. We’ll see how that JS-2 takes a 90-mm in the face. Mine all the roads in and out of Baby, and rig the bridge for demolition.”
The Colonel looks startled and then decides to hazard a comment.
“Sir, may I remind you that before we lost communications, we were told to stay out of harm’s way and just remain in contact with the Reds. We were not supposed to become heavily engaged.”
The general stands up from his chair and glares at the officer.
“What the hell are we doing here then? I didn’t come over here to keep running from Bolsheviks. This is a perfect setup for an ambush. We’ll give ’em a bloody nose, and then set them up for the next one. Goddamn it, don’t worry Cole! I’m not an idiot! I’m not going to get suckered into a stand up fight. We’re just going to kick them in the teeth and then keep on ‘relocating to the rear’.”
“Permission to speak freely, sir?”
“Go ahead Cole.”
“We have a reconstituted unit sir, made up of a lot of green troops straight out of basic training. Their training was cut short by two weeks, and they were stuffed on a bunch of cramped four-stacker transports, and shipped here to France. Some of these guys can’t even figure out the new gearshift patterns of the M-26, much less drive in a straight line. I think this is a bad idea, sir. These boys have never seen the elephant much less a Soviet JS-2 heavy tank at full throttle.”
“Listen Cole. We have to stand and fight sometime and now’s the time! Don’t get your undies in a bundle; we’re not going to stay long… just long enough to see the elephant, as you put it and then we continue as ordered. I’m sure the old man won’t whine if we take a few JS-2’s out. We’ll just keep in contact, by punching them in the mouth. Now get your ass out there and get this bunch in line. Briefing’s at 07:10… now move it soldier.”
“Yes sir.”
London
July 23th, 1946
14:40 hours
A panicked officer rushes into General of the Army Omar Bradley’s office and breathing heavily announces “Excuse me sir, but you really need to have a look at this.”
“What is it Compton?”
“We’ve lost communications with the 20th Armored Division. They were ordered to stay in contact with the Soviet 14th Tank Army, but not to engage.”
“Fill me in on this unit Sid. Is this one of those fresh off the freighter, and who’s in command?”
“Yes sir. It’s an untested, reconstituted, division brought back from the continental U.S., under the command of Major General Mark Green.”
“Untested and reconstituted, huh? Isn’t that a polite term for ‘fresh meat’ Sid? I think I remember General Green. Isn’t he that cocky bastard who was one of Al Brown’s regimental commanders in the 5th Division, always bragging about how easy it was to just drive into Czechoslovakia and Austria last year? How’d that son-of-a-bitch get a star, let alone two?”
“Yes sir, he was. And I don’t know exactly how sir. I heard that he is a U.S. Senator’s son”
“How exactly are they out of communication; and for how long?”
“About six hours now sir, ever since the Reds started jamming our signals again. The other units have adapted, but the 20th Armored doesn’t have a Signals Battalion assigned to it yet. We sent out a Signals Company to regain contact, but they haven’t reported in. We have indications that there are Red units of battalion-size, and greater, that are in position to cut off the 5th’s egress.”
The officer jumps to his feet and crosses the room much faster than a man his size should be able to.
“How in God’s name did that happen?!?!?”
“General Green, apparently decided to stand and fight at Baby. Here are some maps that show you the general situation.”
Both officers look briefly at the map. Each is an expert at assimilating the symbols on the paper.
“It looks like Green had a pretty good setup, behind the river. We believe he was going to ambush the leading elements of the Reds to give his troops some combat experience, then move on south following his orders to Brive-la-Galliarde.”
“The next map shows how he got his ass in a sling by trying to improvise.”
“By delaying his retrograde movement too long he gave the Soviets time to set-up in back of him. There are two recon battalions to his southeast that can slow him up just enough for the Soviet 27th Tank Division to cut him off.”
“For crying out loud… what the hell was that idiot thinking? Get me General Eisenhower back in Washington on the phone… NOW! Then cut orders for the 101st Airborne to stand-by, we might need them to get in the line as regular infantry. Get me in contact with Green! I don’t care if you have to crash-land a plane in there with a working radio! GET ME GREEN! Then get Norgard in here, and have him bring me the status of every air unit within range of the 20th Armored. What kind of distances are we talking here? Didn’t they have the 49th Quartermaster Brigade assigned to them for safe-keeping?”
“It’s about twenty miles from Baby to Brive-la-Galliarde, and yes, they did.”
NATO Headquarters,
London
July 24th, 1946
06:35 hours
A small figure tries to make himself smaller, while huddling under a piece of wreckage. He digs a radio out from under the crushed body of a passenger that was in the pile of twisted metal that was a small plane.
“Hello… this is Private Johnson of the 20th Armored Division… Hello? Can anyone hear me? Over.”
A startled radio operator twenty miles away jumps out of his seat and keys the mike.
“We hear you… Private… Use the assigned protocol. Over.”
“I don’t know what the protocol is. Shit, I just dug this radio out from under a crashed plane and wondered if it worked. I got lucky, just getting you. Who is this anyway? Over”
“This is NATO Western Command Private. Lieutenant Casey speaking. Over”
“How do I know that you are who you say you are? Over.”
“Ask me a question only an American would know. Over.”
“Ah… Okay. Who won the Kentucky Derby in 1945? Over.”
“Jesus Johnson! How would I know? I don’t follow horse-racing! Ask about something normal, like baseball. Over.”
“Are you a commie? I’m from Kentucky, and everyone knows it was Hoop Junior! Okay, how about an easier one… who was the jockey?… Oh, ah, over.”