James Shipman - Task Force Baum

“Hall, no!” screamed Stiller, reaching over, jerking the barrel of the Thompson into the air.

“What the hell?” Hall shouted in response, trying to jerk the weapon away from the major, who had clearly lost his mind. “Let me go!”

The major kept his iron grip as the two of them pulled the Thompson back and forth. “Damn it, Hall, those aren’t Germans.”

The lieutenant slackened his grip, and Stiller ripped the submachine gun out of his hands. Hall breathed deeply for a few moments, fighting the adrenaline down. He looked out again at the packed mass of men with new eyes. The major was right. The mass of huddled figures did not wear the grey of the Wehrmacht . Who were they? They weren’t wearing GI uniforms either. “Do you recognize those—”

“Russians,” Stiller finished for him.

Russians. That didn’t make any sense. “Have they come this far west?”

The major shook his head. “Prisoners. Look at them. They’re half-starved, and they have no weapons.”

Hall stared at the men and realized the major was correct. “If they’re prisoners, where are their guards?”

Stiller turned the jeep off, slinging the Thompson over his shoulder and stepping out of the vehicle. “Let’s go find out.”

Hall hopped out and stalked cautiously around the front hood to join Stiller. Even as he reached him, Baum was limping up, surrounded by his command team and a squad of infantry, weapons poised. The captain stopped to talk to Stiller.

“What do we have up there?”

“Looks like a batch of Russians,” said Stiller, reaching into his pocket to pull out another brown plug of tobacco. The major stuffed the oily leaf into his mouth, gave the wad a couple of gnaws, and spit an amber ball of liquid to the ground.

Baum’s eyes flickered with wary interest. “Where are the Germans?”

“I was just going to find out. Would you like to come along?”

The captain bristled a little. “You are welcome to accompany me , if you wish.” With that, the lanky commander strode past Stiller, moving around the next Sherman in line, trailed by his support team and their fire support.

Stiller stood by the jeep for a moment as if he was not going to follow. Finally, he grunted and turned to the lieutenant. “Let’s go.”

Hall followed the major past one Sherman, then another. He felt naked without the Thompson, and he wondered if he should ask for it back. He’d neglected in the rush to even grab one of the grenades sitting on the seat. The major was striding after Baum with a determined look on his face. Hall decided to leave the situation alone for now. After all, if the Germans fired on them, they’d likely go after the one holding a weapon first.

They passed another tank as they caught up with Baum. The Americans had spread out, trying to protect their commander but also to space out the enemy’s targets as much as possible. The Russians were less than fifty yards away now and starting to move toward the halted column. They were grouping up in a great mass, and Hall could see the excitement on their faces as they waved wildly. A great din rose from the crowded Soviets. But the same question passed through his mind again. Where were the Germans? Hall glanced nervously up to his right and his left, the thought occurring to him that this would be the perfect place for a trap. He couldn’t make anything out in the hills above him on either side, but that didn’t mean the threat wasn’t there. If they were hit now, the whole force could be decimated in a matter of minutes. There would be no escape.

“Careful now, boys,” said Baum, his caution mirroring Hall’s. “We don’t know what’s ahead of us. Eyes sharp for those krauts.”

The gap closed. The Russians were swarming past the lead tank now. Hall saw the turret flip open and Nutto pop his head out, staring in amazement at the mass swirling past him as if the tank was a boulder jutting out from a strong river current. As the Soviets spotted Baum’s group, several of them broke into a run, sprinting forward to embrace the captain. The task force commander grimaced from the contact, the pain of his wounds affecting him.

“You are American, no?” asked one of the men, speaking broken English with a thick Slavic accent.

Baum nodded, and the man embraced him again. “We are prisoner here many months. You are army coming to rescue?”

The captain shook his head. “We are a task force on our way to Hammelburg. The main American army is fifty miles behind us. Where are your guards?”

The soldier made a cupping gesture with his hand, then twisted it violently. The men around him laughed. “They are kaputt , as Germans say.”

“You killed them all? When?”

“As soon as we saw you coming around bend.”

“How many were there?”

The Russian shrugged. “Not so many for us. But you say you are not American army. Still, you must take us with you.”

Baum shrugged helplessly. “We can’t. I’m sorry. We don’t have any room. We’re on a mission.”

A flicker of disappointment flashed across the Russian’s face. He turned and spoke rapidly to the men behind him. Hall could hear the groans coming up from the crowd, growing in power in a reverse wave that traveled violently away from them as the men realized they were not here to help them. The soldier turned back to Baum.

“Do you have food? Weapons? Anything for us?”

Baum didn’t respond. He turned to Stiller and Nutto, who had joined them. Nutto was pale and leaned against one of the tanks. “What do you think?” asked the commander. “I hadn’t planned for this.” Hall could tell that Baum was deeply moved and frustrated by the unexpected situation.

“We can spare a bit of both, sir, can’t we?” asked Nutto. “We gotta do something.”

“I agree,” said Stiller.

Hall was shocked. They were already low on ammunition and nowhere near their destination, let alone on their way back. How could they spare anything for these Russians? The American army would be here any day. There were at least a thousand Soviets here; they should be able to take care of themselves until then.

Baum rubbed his chin for a second. “Let’s give them ten Garands and a hundred K rations. That won’t solve their problems, but it will give them a bit to eat and let them at least put up a fight if the krauts come calling again. Besides, they’ll have some weapons from those guards.”

“Can’t we do more?” asked Nutto.

“I don’t see how. It’s too much already,” said the commander. Baum turned around and gave the order. A few men broke off to comply. The captain returned to the Russian soldier.

“We will give you some rifles and a little food. It’s all we can spare.”

The Soviet brightened. “That is very generous, comrade. What should we do now?”

Baum turned to his left, pointing above his shoulder. “I’d head up into those hills. Find a good position and defend yourselves. Our boys should be along in a few days, and they’ll liberate you proper.”

The soldier stepped forward and shook Baum’s hand. “Thank you.”

Baum returned the gesture. Stopping the man as he turned to leave, Baum drew out his own .45 and handed it to the Russian. The man’s eyes widened.

“For me?” he asked.

“Yep. You take it. You’ll need it as much as I will, maybe more.”

The Russian embraced Baum again. “Thank you. Thank you much. You are great man.”

“I need you to clear a path for us now. You should get out of here anyway, before the Germans come back.”

The Soviet nodded toward the hills. “We going now to find good spot to wait. Proshchay, tovarishch. ”

Hall and the other Americans stood quietly as the supplies and rifles were brought forward. The Russians quickly passed out the weapons, hefted the rations, and began their trek up into the hills. The Americans watched them in silence for a few minutes, until the road was finally cleared. As they faded away in the distance, Baum went rigid at attention and saluted their allies. The rest of the Americans did the same. All except Hall. What did he care for a bunch of Russians? The captain finally turned back to them. “I wish we could have done more for them, but we’ve got our own job to do, and it’s about time we got back to it. Let’s return to our vehicles and roll out.”