of a few days become unfeeling and inhuman monsters. All three knew what the 553rd Field Hospital incident had meant in human terms to the soldiers and patients of that unit. But there was no energy left at that moment in their exhausted minds, overtasked with the needs of dealing with the imperatives of the moment, to lament the dead and wounded of the 553rd. That action was over, completed. What was critical now was to get their brigade moving to the sea. The war had not stopped. The killing was not over. The next twenty-four hours would be critical. The commander of the Tenth Corps, Big Al, hoped to pull away from the last of the corps' battle against the 2nd and 10th Panzer divisions and posture the corps for the forthcoming battle with the 1st and 7th Panzers, now forming what was being called the Hannover line. It was believed that once this line had been broken, there would be no stopping them from reaching the sea.
To that end, Dixon assessed the effectiveness of his brigade, determined which units were still capable of offensive action and which were good only for defense, and positioned them in his line of march accordingly. The 3rd Battalion, 3rd Infantry, which had performed well and was still, on paper, a powerful battalion, had lost two commanders in less than six hours. That, coupled with a series of quick but brutal encounters with the 2nd Panzer, had left the leadership and troops of the battalion unsettled. After a quick conference with Major Jensen, Dixon had determined that Jensen was not capable of rallying the troops of the battalion and executing the rear-guard actions that Dixon had assigned it. Rear-guard operations, high risk under the best of circumstances, required a commander to have sound judgment, a will of steel, and, as Cerro himself had once said during a training exercise, 'a commander with a set of brass nuts.'
The first thought that came to Cerro's mind was one of confusion. 'Why,' he blurted out, 'not Colonel Yost?'
'Because, Hal, I need Yost as the brigade XO. You're right, he should be the one. But I can better afford to lose a maneuver battalion than the field trains. Yost is the only person who is keeping this brigade's support units going and functioning.'
The implication that Dixon was willing to write off Cerro and the battalion he was about to command in order to save the brigade's supply trains didn't bother Cerro. It was, after all, a simple statement of fact. Dixon had four maneuver battalions, two tank and two mechanized infantry. He had only one set of field trains to keep those maneuver battalions fed, fueled, and supplied. Without the field trains, the brigade died. Period. What bothered Cerro was that he was about to replace one of his peers under less than honorable circumstances. Jensen, by virtue of being the operations officer of the 3rd of the 3rd, was the next man in the chain of command and the proper choice for the position. That Dixon was relieving him and removing him from the battalion, to be replaced by an outsider, was a clear indication that something was wrong with Jensen, the unit, or both. Though Cerro wanted to find out what the problem with Jensen was, he knew that neither he nor Dixon had the time. Nodding, Cerro simply said, 'Okay, sir. I'll head on down to their CP, transfer my personal gear over to Jensen's vehicle, and send him up to brigade. Any change in the mission or new orders?'
Having experienced a change of command under similar circumstances during the war in the Middle East, Dixon felt like giving Cerro some advice or a short speech to reassure him. But then he stopped. What could he say? What words could make this deplorable situation any better? None. Cerro was a professional and he had a job to do. It was that simple.
Dixon decided to leave it at that. Instead he merely shook his head. 'No, no new orders. You know what to do.'
With that, the three men parted, Cerro to relieve a man who had once been a friend, and Dixon and Vorishnov to talk to the next battalion commander further down the road.
When Cerro arrived at the command post of the 3rd Battalion, he was surprised to find Major Jim Jensen waiting for him outside. Cerro's vehicle had barely stopped before Jensen was there greeting Cerro. 'I spoke to Colonel Dixon. He said that I was to throw my stuff into your humvee as soon as you got here and report to Colonel Yost at the trains. I've got my gear ready to go.' Turning, he began to rush over to his humvee parked several meters away, but then stopped as something occurred to him. 'Oh, I had the commands and staff of the battalion already gather here. They're waiting for you inside. I thought that you'd like to talk to them.' Then, without giving Cerro a chance to respond, Jensen continued to go for his gear.
Cerro, caught off guard by Jensen's behavior, yelled out, 'Jim, hold it.' Walking over, Cerro came up to Jensen, placed his right hand on Jensen's left shoulder and started to say something, then stopped. What in the hell do you tell a friend when you're about to relieve him of command? Cerro knew that this action, done under these conditions, would effectively destroy Jensen's career. As soon as Jensen got into Cerro's humvee and drove away, he would be viewed as a failure, a soldier who failed the test of combat. For a combat arms officer that was worse than the kiss of death. It would leave a psychological scar that Jensen would carry for the rest of his life. Cerro knew this. Jensen knew this. So what, Cerro thought, could he possibly say to make this better, easier, for Jensen?
While he pondered, searching his tired and confused mind for some words that were appropriate, Jensen saved Cerro from his embarrassment. 'Hal, I asked to be replaced.'
Taken aback by Jensen's comment, Cerro looked up in his friend's eyes and, unable to control his reaction, let his jaw drop open. 'Yeah, that's right. When Colonel Dixon and the Russian were here, I asked them to be relieved.' Jensen stepped back, throwing his arms out to his sides while letting Cerro's limp hand fall away. 'I'm not the commander type. I just don't have it. You know the system. You know the peacetime Army. Majors who want to be lieutenant colonels have to be successful battalion XOs or ops officers. It's the system and I, just like you, played this system. I didn't know that there was going to be a war and I damned sure didn't know everyone was going to get themselves killed or wounded, leaving me to hold the bag. I don't want this. All I wanted to do was retire after twenty years as a lieutenant colonel. I can't deal with this. You can. I can't. I'm sorry, but that's the way it is. So don't worry.'
Pivoting on his heels, Jensen again began to walk away but stopped a second time. Twisting his head slightly, he looked at Cerro, still standing dumbfounded, and called back, 'Oh, yeah. Congratulations, Hal, and good luck.'
Though he had been told to expect someone from Berlin, Major General Horst Mondorf, commander of the 7th Panzer Division, did not expect General Lange, Chief of the General Staff. After his aide had gone to escort Lange to Mondorf's office, Mondorf stood up, walked around to the front of his desk, straightened out his uniform jacket, and waited. As he stood there staring at the door, he kept repeating that he had been right. His decision to give way had compromised the entire Hannover line. Without the 7th Panzer Division, there was no way that the 1st Panzer could hold that line. He had through his orders opened the road to the sea for the American Tenth Corps and, he hoped, spared the German people further suffering. For the future of Germany as a nation, Mondorf had broken ranks with his fellow division commanders and, like the senior officers of the Luftwaffe had done a week ago, allowed his conscience to be his guide, consequences be damned.
Mondorf felt a strange peace as he prepared to greet Lange. He was about to be relieved of his command and no doubt be brutally criticized for failing to do his duty in the defense of Germany and to uphold the traditions of the German Army. Yet he had done what he knew was right. He had followed his heart and decided that for the good of Germany and the German people the current insanity had to be brought to an end. Though he knew his actions alone could not bring this sad chapter to a close, he had done all he could. He was prepared for whatever Lange did or said.
Preceded by a light rap, Mondorf's aide announced his presence and opened the door. With the precision expected of an officer of his rank and position, the aide announced Lange: 'Herr General, the Chief of the General Staff, General Lange.' Stepping aside, he made way for Lange. Lange paused at the door and looked at Mondorf. It seemed almost as if Lange was hesitant to enter. As the two general officers stared at each other, Mondorf couldn't help but notice that Lange's face, normally frozen in a hard expressionless stare, was haggard and worried. In his eyes Mondorf saw traces of doubt, worry, and uncertainty. There was something going on inside Lange's head that his years of training and self-discipline could not hide.
Pulling himself up to a more military stance, Lange entered the room and dismissed the aide, who without another word closed the door and disappeared. While he moved over to an armchair and removed his overcoat, Lange looked down at the floor. He said nothing to Mondorf and heard nothing from him. Finally, when he was ready, Lange dropped into the armchair and studied Mondorf, who remained in place at attention staring at the door. Lange knew what this officer, one of the senior commanders of the German Army, had done and he knew why. Now, Lange thought, did he himself have the courage to do the same? Was he prepared to follow the example
