Morgan laid his weapon against a tree and tried to control the shaking that was affecting his hands. He hadn’t fired a shot. “Nice try, Captain,” said Rolfe. He offered his canteen to Morgan who gratefully accepted. “Your first battle, sir?”
“Is it that obvious?” he asked and Rolfe chuckled.
Behind them the dead and dying were being picked up while destroyed and damaged vehicles were pushed off the road. The column was moving again. Morgan wondered if this was how it was going to be all the way to the Rhine and beyond.
Hours later the column had lurched to a halt and Morgan did a quick job of setting up a security perimeter- no real fortifications, only barbed wire this time as it was understood they’d be on the move again tomorrow morning. They hadn’t reached the actual front lines, although the sound of artillery had grown sharper and they’d passed through American 155mm batteries firing at something off in the distance. Along with the one-sided fighting earlier in the day, the effect was sobering.
Morgan wasn’t surprised when Colonel Stoddard told him to report. Like Levin said, unless provoked or served incompetently, Stoddard was a fairly decent sort. A West Pointer in his mid-forties, he was short like most tankers, had thinning gray hair and eyes that pierced right through you.
Morgan reported and was told to sit down. “Captain, I just don’t know whether to congratulate you or kick you in the head. Your stunt this afternoon showed initiative and courage under fire and for that you are to be commended. However, you took half a dozen men on a senseless foray and now one is dead and another badly wounded. What do you have to say?”
Jack took a deep breath. What’s the worst Stoddard can do, he wondered, send me home? “Colonel, we were under fire and men were dying. I did what I thought was best. I hoped to distract the eighty-eight and maybe get them to withdraw. I didn’t suspect a machine gun, just like we didn’t expect the eighty-eight.”
“It was about a quarter mile away and you told your men to start shooting at it while you tried to flank it. Did you really think they’d hit anything?”
“No sir. I just hoped to confuse the Germans and give our boys something to shoot back at. Frankly, sir, I was a little disconcerted at how few of our guys actually did shoot.”
“Why didn’t you wait for the cavalry?”
“I saw the first tank come down and get killed. I didn’t want to wait for another to come and die.”
Lieutenant Colonel Whiteside came in and took a folding chair by Stoddard. “I have casualty figures, Colonel. Fifteen dead and eleven wounded, several seriously.”
Stoddard winced in pain. He might be a gruff bastard but he obviously cared for his men as much as he cared about protecting his skin. And, Morgan thought sadly, one of the dead and one of the wounded was a result of his actions. He could still see the half-track in front of his Jeep blowing up and the Sherman being destroyed. That was why there were more dead than wounded. Nobody had a chance to get out.
“We learned a lot today,” Stoddard said quietly. “First, we will have flankers out whenever possible, although the damned hedgerows hinder that. Second, we will have heavy weapons mixed in among the helpless so they can fight back. In sum, Morgan, you did well. Perfect? No. But well. You actually did something while others were hiding in the grass and crying for their mommies.”
“Colonel, I was scared shitless, too.”
“But, like the colonel said, you actually did something,” said Whiteside, “and you learned a dirty little secret today. In combat, many, many men will simply freeze and not fire their weapons.” He handed Jack a small box. “This just came for you, Captain.”
Puzzled, Morgan opened it. His jaw dropped. It was a Bronze Star. “What the hell is this for, sir?”
“Your actions on the LST,” said Whiteside. “You saved a man while the ship was blowing up, or don’t you remember? A Commander Stephens put you up for it. There was some bureaucratic disagreement as to who should give you the medal, the army or the navy since you saved a GI but were on a navy ship. It was decided the army should do it since you’re one of us. Congratulations. You’re now an official hero. “And oh yeah, you’re getting a Purple Heart as well, or had you forgotten about your shoulder and that ugly cut on your face.”
“Frankly I had, sir.”
Stoddard stood and they shook hands. “Yeah,” said Stoddard, “you’ve proven to be a pleasant surprise. Now go back and have some of Levin’s clandestine wine and tell him to bring me some, too. I need it after today.”
CHAPTER 4
VARNER ARRIVED at his Berlin apartment dirty and late for dinner. He didn’t bother to change. He sat and ate slowly and without enthusiasm. He endured their stares because Magda insisted that he needed to eat to keep up his strength. Margarete, little Magpie, gazed at him, wide-eyed. She had never seen him in a filthy uniform before. She was a bright little girl and both he and Magda loved her deeply. Although, at fourteen and with her figure ripening, perhaps she wasn’t so little anymore. Regardless, she knew when to keep still. The only question she asked was whether Hitler was dead. Rumors, she said were flying. He told her he didn’t know. He hated lying to his daughter, but he couldn’t take the chance that she might say something to a schoolmate that could get back to the damned Gestapo.
When she was done eating, Margarete kissed him on the forehead and announced that she had studying to do. Magda then informed her husband that he was filthy and it was time for him to clean up.
Varner grunted and went to the bathroom where he filled a tub with hot water, stripped, and lay down in it, letting its warmth cleanse him in more ways than one.
He toweled down and walked naked into the bedroom. He was mildly annoyed that Magda hadn’t brought any underclothing to the bathroom. His annoyance ceased when he saw her lying naked on the bed, her long blond hair undone and strewn across her pillow. He grinned wickedly. “Is it Christmas?”
She smiled and beckoned to him. “No, but you can open your present anyhow.”
They made love with an intensity that had been lacking in the last few weeks as his job had overwhelmed and exhausted him. Magda was no longer the slender student he’d married almost two decades ago, but he thought the slight plumpness she’d gained in certain areas of her body was highly desirable. He proved the point by caressing her intimately, in preparation for a second time. She moaned and sighed. “Magpie will hear us,” he said.
“I think she understands.” They caressed each other with their lips, fingers, and tongues until he again entered her and they climaxed, totally spent.
Later, they lay side by side, sweaty and sated. Varner felt it was time to bring up an unpleasant decision he’d made. “You and Magpie must leave Berlin. When the bombs were falling and I was cowering in some filthy stinking basement and trying not to shit myself, all I could think of was the two of you and what danger you were in. And when I helped pull that boy out of the rubble, I thought I would weep in despair. We have no defense against the Allied bombers, and the next raid, or the one after that, could easily kill you.”
Magda was not surprised. In fact, part of her welcomed it. She wanted to be by Ernst’s side in Berlin, but she also wanted to protect their daughter. And she was not too proud to admit that the bombings, an almost daily ritual now, terrified and horrified her. She counted it a blessing that, so far, the sirens hadn’t sounded this night.
“Now that I’m assigned to von Rundstedt’s staff, I can get authorization for you to go to your sister’s place.”
Magda’s sister Bertha and her husband Eric Muller lived in a village near Hachenburg, many miles farther west and near the Rhine. To her knowledge no bombs had fallen there, although Hachenburg itself had been hit.
“Agreed,” she said, “and there is another problem that would be solved. Do you remember Volkmar Detloff?”
“Of course. Pure Aryan from a totally Nazi family, he’s a fanatically Nazi Youth, and thinks he’s a new god
