The sight before them would, under other circumstances, have been rather beautiful. A landscape covered with a pristine snowfall, unmarred by tracks or stains. Out of it poked small collections of pine trees, spotting the landscape as it dipped down into a shallow valley As the ground rose the other side, the patches of trees grew larger once more. Under these circumstances, the same vista was a depressing sight.
Captain John Marosy and Sergeant William Bressler had been moving through the trees for hours after
“We could try and make our way down and across.” Bressler didn’t sound too happy about that. Marosy didn’t blame him.
“No way Bill. We’ll be floundering for hours down there. Stuck out in the open like a pair of plaster geese. The snow will have drifted in the valley. It’s not too bad up here, but it’ll be feet deep down there. And even if we do manage to make any distance, we’ll be leaving tracks a blind man could follow.”
“So what do we do, Boss? Wait here until somebody finds us, and hope it’s the partisans, not the Krauts?”
Marosy thought carefully. “In the short term, yes. We made good time under the trees. We’re well clear of the wreck. We’ll hole up here until dusk. Try and keep warm and rest. We’ve got two things running for us. One is that the boys know we’re down and they’ll be looking. If they find us, they’ll send a ski-equipped Dragon Rapide out to get us. The other is that we’re in the snap-back after the storm. Temperature is higher than normal for a few hours but it’ll drop like a stone tonight. By midnight, the snow will be freezing and crusting and we should be able to make better time if we do have to cross that valley.”
“Wouldn’t put too much faith in the boys looking for us Boss. We’ve lost what, twenty, thirty aircraft in the A-4 bombardment? And there’s a big Kraut push on. The rest of our boys will be working round the clock. They won’t have time to look for us. At best, they’ll keep their eyes open going out and coming back.”
He was right, of course and Marosy knew it. It was obvious that the German offensive had obviously been carefully planned. They had to have had this stashed away for months, waiting for the conditions to be right.
“There’s always the partisans. They’ll know a bird went down and they’ll be looking for us as well. When they find us, they’ll get a message out.”
“Provided the Krauts don’t get us first. What do we do then?”
Marosy was beginning to find Bressler’s pessimism a touch irritating. “We pick a nice strong tree to get hanged from; what do you think?”
Bressler nodded and started looking at the pine trees around them. “That one looks about right. Got a nice view across the valley as well. Especially of the German troops gathering to watch down there.”
“Not a funny joke, Sergeant.”
“Not a joke at all, Boss. Take a look.”
Marosy scanned the tracks at the foot of the valley. Sure enough, in the last few minutes, a group of trucks had pulled up and were disgorging white-clad infantry. He took out his binoculars and had a closer look. They were Germans all right; the banana-shaped magazines on their rifles were all too apparent. Even as he watched them milling round by their trucks, he saw some pointing up at the hills around them.
“Sorry Bill, you’re right. Krauts. We’d better get out of here. Back the way we came, we don’t have very much choice.”
They started edging back through the trees. Marosy paused for one last look. It seemed like most of the Germans were coming his way.
“What’s happening out there?” General John M Rockingham wanted information and wanted it now. He was in de-facto command of the 3rd Infantry since General George Rodgers had caught a blast of grenade fragments and gone down. Which raised another point. “And what’s happened to the RCAMC post? Have we got it back yet? What are we doing about our wounded?”
The Lieutenant spoke very carefully, his voice clipped to avoid it shaking. “We’ve recaptured the field hospital Sir. They’re all dead in there. They shot the patients in their beds, made the doctors and the nurses lie on the floor and then one of them walked down the line, putting a bullet in each of their heads. Boys are hopping mad about it, Sir. They’re in a killing mood now; there’s no disguising it. We won’t be seeing prisoners any time soon. We’ve set up an emergency facility using some first aid post people who happened to be here and some of the not-so-badly wounded who learned first aid in the Boy Scouts.”
There was a quick pause while the Lieutenant composed himself. He’d seen the scene inside the RCAMC post himself and wouldn’t forget it in a hurry. “As for the rest, we’re just mopping up now. We’ve cleared out the snipers. The EYs did a grand job as usual. We’ve restored the Southern perimeter as well and driven the Finns out. We guess they’re retreating. Should we pursue them?”
Rockingham thought for a second. “No. Secure the perimeter, then we’ll get set up and get the headquarters back into operation. Lord knows what’s happening out there while we’ve been pinned down. Any prisoners?”
There was a bitter laugh from the Lieutenant. He hadn’t exaggerated. After the RCAMC post, there hadn’t been any interest in taking prisoners. A couple of the Finns had tried to surrender but they’d been shot or bayoneted, or both. “No, Sir. The Finns are fighting to the last man and the last bullet. No prisoners.”
“And nobody prepared to take any I’d guess. Very well. Lieutenant. Pass word around that if we can get some, it would help us find out what the hell is going on here.”
“I’ll pass the word, Sir.” ‘And a fat lot of good it will do’ was the Lieutenant’s unspoken addition.
Rockingham slipped out the Division Office and made his way to the communications office. The Royal Canadian Corps of Signals had their radio sites set up but it was a gamble whether they had any operational capability back yet. He made his way from building to building, keeping well under cover all the time. There were wise words he’d heard from a fellow officer once. ‘All situations are tactical until you have proved otherwise for yourself. Never take somebody else’s word for it, if you do you could earn the unfortunate distinction of being the last casualty of the battle.’
The firing had stopped and the battle here at the headquarters unit did seem to be over. He reached the RCCS bunker and announced himself. Entering a defended building unannounced was another good way of becoming the last casualty of the battle.
“Have we contact with our forces yet?”
“No, Sir. Re-establishing now. We are receiving but we’re not able to transmit yet. We’re re-rigging the aerials; we should have that solved soon. We’re picking up a lot of transmission from our units, Sir. It seems like the Finns infiltrated between them during the storm and set up road blocks and so on. All our front line units are cut off. They’re in a series of hedgehogs, spiny side out, where our front line used to be. They’re holding firm but calling out for air and artillery support. It’s a mess, Sir. The whole divisional front is a gaping hole, if those hedgehogs collapse, there’ll be nothing to stop the Finns going through and rolling up the whole of Second Corps. Or heading north and hitting First Corps in the rear.”
“Well, they’d damned well better not collapse then, hadn’t they?” Rockingham looked at the map, envisaging what his front like had to look like. “And there’s no damned reason why they should. This infiltration and hedgehog trick is all very well. The Finns made good use of it during the Winter War and the early stage of the Continuation War, but those days are gone. We’ve got more tactical air than we know what to do with and our units are a lot more self-contained. When we get through to the units that have been cut off, tell them they are to hold their ground and not try to break out. We’ll come to get them. Tell them that if they run short of supplies, we’ll drop them by air. Get that out as soon as we have transmission.”
“Sir, we heard about the RCAMC post. Is it true?’
