audience. 'It will come to a fight. Somewhere at some time during our drive, it will have to come to a fight. The German Bundeswehr, despite the internal problems that you are hearing about right now, will eventually get itself straight. When it does, it's going to come at us with a vengeance. The Germans are fighters, proud and fierce warriors who have a long history of fighting against great odds, under the most adverse conditions, and winning. Now I fully expect that some German commanders and soldiers will choose not to engage us. The more the better. But we cannot count on that. What we can expect is that the bulk of their commanders will heed their call to duty and obey their orders. And once battle is joined, once we're locked in mortal combat on German soil, those who were undecided will no doubt join in their fight. Just remember that the words to the German national anthem, 'Deutschland Uber Alles,' written in the mid-1800s, are a call for Germans, all Germans, to forget their petty loyalties and doubts and rally to defend the idea of a free and united Germany. Like I said before, we're nothing special, just the foreign army that happens to be passing through their nation today.'
Big Al again paused to let his officers think about what he had said. While he did so, he looked at the map. When he spoke, it was almost as if he were thinking to himself. But he wasn't. 'This brigade has a tough job. It's going to be the rear guard, not only for your own division but for the entire corps.' Still staring at the map, Big Al stretched his arms out and made a big circle. 'We're going to move through Germany like a herd of elephants. In the center, all of our supply trains and service support units will travel just like the cows and young do in an elephant herd. Outside, protecting the herd from all comers, the combat brigades will move, just like the elephant bulls, ready and vigilant.' Pivoting, Big Al jammed his index finger into the air again. 'You people are the bulls. Your job is not to collect trophies or conquer territory. You are there to protect those cows in the center. Because you all know, just like an elephant bull knows instinctively, that if the cows of the herd die the whole herd will cease to exist.'
In an effort to lighten the somber mood of the assembled officers, Big Al was about to mention that he got the elephant idea from watching a National Geographic show on television with his grandchildren. The sudden thought of those grandchildren, whom he might never see again, was brutally painful. While still looking at the audience, Big Al wondered how many of those upturned faces, all younger than his and dutifully attentive, concealed similar thoughts. He, of course, knew that most of them did. So he decided to shy away from the mention of families and children. This, he knew, was already becoming hard enough without bringing such thoughts to mind.
Pointing his finger back at the map, Big Al picked up where he had left off. 'It is 432 miles to Bremerhaven. That means that each and every M-1A1 tank in this command that makes it there will consume over 3,000 gallons of fuel. Fuel, ladies and gentlemen, not tactical genius or firepower, is going to make or break us. Remember that first, last, and always. We're going to suck dry every gas station between here and Bremerhaven, and still we're not going to have enough fuel. If you, the combat commanders of the Tenth Corps, fail to save the cows, we'll all die. Period.'
When he was sure that everyone had had sufficient opportunity to think about what he had just said, Big Al again toned down his speech as he prepared to wind it up. 'This will be a team effort, one in which everyone must work together if we're going to hold it together and succeed. Blown bridges will need to be replaced by the engineers, or the herd stops. Air defenders will need to cover the herd from above, a tough job under the best of conditions made worse by the fact that we're moving. Maintenance units will need to keep up with the herd while doing their damnedest to deal with the many problems that will crop up as we roll north. And the medical services will be hard pressed when the time comes to deal with casualties while staying up with everyone else.'
Big Al stopped again after mentioning medical services and looked down at the floor. In the audience, seated amongst her peers, Captain Nancy Kozak knew what was coming. She had seen the face of battle and understood the pain and concerns that were running through Big Al's mind. Nothing, she knew, ever took away the pain. You could justify it. You could soften it. You could even occasionally forget it. But you could never rid yourself of the pain of watching people entrusted to your care die in battle. Every commander carried the memories of those soldiers he had lost like open wounds, forever.
When he finally looked up, there was a reflective, thoughtful look on Big Al's face. As he spoke, it was in a soft, concerned tone that slowly began to increase in volume and harshness. 'We're not all going to make it. War means fighting, and fighting means dying. You've all seen, I'm sure, my directive concerning the care of our wounded. I know that many of you do not agree with it. Well, to those of you who don't, to those who think that we need to drag our wounded about with us because you were raised to believe in some perverted warrior code that requires you to bring all your men out together or not at all, I say fuck you.' Big Al's sudden use of vulgarity shocked most of the assembled officers, just as he had hoped it would. When he had their undivided attention, he made his point. 'Some have used the Marine retreat from the Chosen Reservoir in November 1950 and the fact that they brought all their wounded and dead out with them in an effort to get me to change my mind. Well, I'll tell you like I told them. This isn't Korea and it's not 1950. Then the enemy couldn't even tend to his own wounded. Here today it's different. I have great confidence that the Germans will give our wounded the same regard and respect that they will give to their own. Both the German military and the civilian medical care system will be able to deal better with our wounded than our own medical units that will be almost continuously in motion. We'll keep those wounded that can make it, evacuate by air from Germany those in bad shape if that option becomes available, but if it comes to a question of life or death, we will turn our wounded over to the Germans, period.'
Looking at his watch, Big Al glanced over to Dixon, then across the sea of faces that were watching his every move. 'I've used up enough of your valuable time. But I felt it was important that you hear this from me one more time. This will be the last time that I'll be seeing many of you before we reach Bremerhaven. Until then, good luck. My thoughts will be with you. God bless you all.'
On cue, Scott Dixon jumped to his feet and yelled, 'Attention!' and saluted. Every officer in the room followed suit, leaping up and bringing their right hand up into a crisp, snappy salute. Big Al merely nodded in acknowledgment, quickly turning and leaving the room without further ado, hoping that none of the assembled officers saw the tears welling up in his eyes as he bid his soldiers farewell.
CHAPTER 12
The mood of the citizens of Niederjossa matched the gray, sullen sky as they trudged through the slush and around piles of old dirty snow that covered central Germany. Few paid attention at first to the German Army Volkswagen staff car, its canvas top down, as it pulled into the town center of Niederjossa without any flourish, without any haste. Like the rest of the midafternoon traffic, the staff car simply negotiated the narrow and winding streets of the small ancient German town built on the banks of the Jossa River. The German Army captain and his driver paid scant attention to the comings and goings of the civilians as they went about their daily routine. He was more interested in making sure that the five medium trucks that were supposed to be following were keeping up. Motioning to his driver to slow down, the captain turned his head around to the right to look for the trucks. As he did, he could not help but notice the stares from the civilians who, shaken from their gloomy preoccupation by the appearance of the German Army, stopped to watch when they saw the small staff car roll by.
As in most towns, there was a look of real concern on the people's faces. While everyone knew what was happening from the nonstop news coverage provided by the television and newspapers, the appearance of real soldiers, armed and ready for battle, on their streets could not be ignored. It had to be dealt with.
Many Germans had no real interest in the arguments put forth by their government. The Americans, they argued, were a benign presence. They had been there for years, one old woman told a reporter, and if they weren't, then someone else would have been. Better the Americans, she said, than the Russians or the English. Like the old woman, many Germans could not really understand why the men in Berlin were being so stubborn, so uncompromising in their dealings with the Americans. Most hoped that it was all a big bluff that, when the final call came, both sides would back down from.
The presence of real soldiers in their streets was to the people of Niederjossa proof that the government was prepared to make good its threats. And if that happened, the people of Niederjossa knew that the clash of arms would be played out in their town, right there in front of their own homes, before their eyes and the eyes of their children. It did not take a great leap of imagination either to picture what would happen when that clash
