James Shipman - Task Force Baum

They finally reached the front of the column. The lead tank was a smoking husk. Hall could smell the sickening aroma of burned flesh. He felt his stomach wrenching again, but he somehow gagged down the bile and kept his place behind Stiller. Baum knelt on the side of the Sherman, using the tread as cover. He pulled out a set of binoculars and scanned the bridge and the houses on the other side of the river. He turned, waving behind him. Lieutenants Nutto and Weaver raced up, pulling in behind Hall and squatting down behind a Sherman.

“Okay, here’s the deal,” said Baum. “That bridge is still operational, but I don’t know for how long. We’ve got a batch of resistance up there. A company maybe of infantry and some anti-tank cannon. I’m not sure if it’s armor or what. I can’t see a damn thing.”

“What are we going to do about it?” asked Nutto.

“Same thing as at Schweinheim. We roll right the hell through it.”

Nutto nodded, although Hall thought he could see doubt in the lieutenant’s face.

“We’re going to push this Sherman out of the way,” explained Baum. “Then I want the tanks to go across, guns blazing. I’ll bring up a platoon of infantry for close support. Let’s get a tank across with the infantry and form a little bridgehead. When we see what reacts, then we hit them hard and roll across with everything we’ve got.”

“Yes, sir,” said Nutto, wiping the dirt from his face. “I’ll go over first.”

“Negative,” said Baum. “Can’t risk it. Send one of the boys.”

Nutto shook his head. “I want to lead it, sir. That’s a hell of a gamble. I’d rather go myself.”

“I said no,” retorted Baum, a hint of steel in his voice. “I told you, it’s somebody else. Now make the orders and let’s go.”

Baum moved back a few yards and found cover behind a copse of trees near the road. Stiller and Hall joined him to watch the attack unfold. The firing seemed lighter from there, and Hall wasn’t sure if that was because they were out of the line of fire or if the German resistance was beginning to break.

As he watched, the Shermans ground forward. The second tank rolled slowly until it bumped into the lead. Then the driver gunned it. The treads rumbled over the pavement and dirt, kicking up a storm of rock and concrete behind it. The lead tank remained in place for a moment and then rolled forward and slightly to the right. The two vehicles moved together for a few yards before the lead tank rumbled off the side of the road and out of the way. The new lead Sherman stormed on, firing from its cannon even as a platoon of infantry sprinted past Hall, spreading out and firing as they went.

The Sherman surged toward the bridge, picking up speed and leaving the infantry behind. A soldier fell and then another, hit by the fire from across the river. The tank made it to the bridge and started across, slowing now so that the infantry could catch up. The first dozen men reached the bridge and stormed on, catching up to the rear of the advancing Sherman.

The bridge evaporated in an instantaneous pillar of fire. The force of the explosion threw the infantry still on the shore back like rag dolls, flinging them high in the air. Hall watched in horror as the bodies shot through the sky before raining down hard to the ground a hundred yards or more from the river. The Sherman and everyone on the structure when it blew were vaporized. The steel structure screamed as it bent and bristled, plunging in a shrieking rip and tear of metal into the waiting water below. The Main belched up a frothy chaotic hiss of steam that sent circlets of waves out from the crash. The water churned and coughed for a few angry moments before resuming its current as if nothing had ever happened.

“Shit!” shouted Baum. He removed his helmet and threw it to the ground. “Sons of bitches blew my bridge. Killed a bunch of my boys, too!”

“What are we going to do now?” asked Stiller.

Baum looked up through his grief. He narrowed his eyes. “Not much to do, Major. This is the only way over the damned river. I don’t have bridging equipment.”

“There has to be another way.”

“I had intelligence up and down this river. This is it. We have to turn around.”

“We can’t!” said Stiller, his voice agitated. “There’s got to be another option.” Hall was surprised by the vehemence in the major’s statement.

Baum shook his head again. “Can’t be done, Major. Now I don’t have time for a long discussion. I’ve got two tanks down already and a batch of men. All dead for this foolish damned mission. So, if you’ll excuse me, I need to attend to my boys. I suggest you make your way back to the jeep, and let’s get the hell out of here.”

The captain started to leave, but Stiller grabbed his arm, holding him back. Baum turned sharply, his eyes flashing a dangerous anger. “What the hell are you doing, Major? Get your hands off me!”

“I can’t. We’ve got to go on. We can’t return empty-handed.”

“What do you mean, Stiller?”

“Patton’s son-in-law is in that camp.”

Hall was frozen with surprise, and so, clearly, was the captain.

Baum stared at Stiller for a moment, his lip twitching. “Christ, is that what this is all about then?”

“That’s right,” said Stiller. “And we can’t come back with nothing but our dicks in our hands. We’ve got to go on, and we’ve got to grab him. No other choice.”

Baum looked at Stiller for a moment, shaking his head and whistling. He stared at the river, then looked the other way at his battered column. He shook his head. “All right, Stiller. We’ll see what we can do up north.” He pointed a finger at the major. “But everything from here on out is on you. You and that son of a bitch general of yours.”

The captain turned and scrambled off, starting to shout orders. Stiller turned to Hall, as if realizing all at once that the lieutenant was there as well. “Now listen here, Hall. That’s a secret between you, me, and the captain. You’re gonna carry that one to the grave. Do you understand?”

Hall nodded, too stunned to answer out loud. He stared out at all the dead men, the burning vehicles. That bastard sent us all in to die, just to save his daughter’s husband . If I get a chance, I’ll make him pay too . The lieutenant spat and turned to follow Stiller back toward the convoy.

As he moved, a steel cylinder ripped past him and crashed into the ground at Baum’s feet. The metal exploded, knocking the captain and Lieutenant Nutto to the ground. Hall stared in horror. Neither of them moved.

Gemünden, Germany

March 27, 1945, 1000 hours

Koehl sat on the pavement with his face buried in his hands. Hot tears seeped through his fingers and ran down his arms. She was dead. Gone in an instant, like so many thousands he’d watch disappear in the past six years. But this was his flesh and blood. He’d tried to protect her. She’d refused him, but he could have forced her. Why hadn’t he gone after her? Required that she leave with him for headquarters immediately? With all his experience of the unexpected tragedy of war, why had he allowed himself to be lulled into a false sense that she would be safe for a day or two without him?

“ Hauptmann .” He heard Schmidt’s voice, a distant echo through the fog of his grief.

“Leave me alone,” he sputtered in response.

“I cannot, sir. I’m so sorry. You know I’d never willingly violate your grief, but right now I don’t have a choice. The Americans are coming. They’ve been spotted in the distance. We need your attention to this.”

A burning flame of anger tore through his sorrow. The Americans were here. The ones who killed his sister. His fury tore him from his grief. “How many are there?” he asked, the torrent of his anguish swirling around him.