James Shipman - Task Force Baum

To his shock, the sergeant ripped his hands away. He turned to look at his friend. His eyes were full of pain but also with determination. He opened his mouth to speak, but the superheated air seized any sound. Koehl grabbed for the sergeant’s wrist again, shaking his head; he would not leave without him.

Schmidt pushed away, his face a scowl. He pointed toward the escape hatch, his gesture a command. Koehl knew his friend was right. He had seconds at most to escape. He would never make it if he tried to assist the sergeant. He must choose between life and death. There wasn’t even time for last rites.

He wanted to stay, to slump down next to his closest friend and let the flames and fire take them both. Something pulled at him, though, an instinct to survive, to flee, to save the life that Schmidt was giving him in his agony and sacrifice. He hesitated a moment more, as Schmidt gestured frantically at him. He made the sign of the cross over his friend, uttering a few words in Latin.

With a heroic effort, he pulled himself up on the ladder and started to rise. He paused at the hatch and looked down at Schmidt. He smiled sadly, tears filling his eyes. The sergeant saluted, smiling in return, battling the pain. Koehl took a deep breath and climbed up into the hatch, dragging himself out with all of his strength, racing against time. Another second passed, and he was out, rolling off the hatch onto the body of the Ferdinand. With a final exhaustive effort, he leapt from the tread into the grassy blades of the meadow. As he hit the ground, his Ferdinand exploded. Hot shrapnel flew in every direction. A fragment tore across his shoulder, lancing cloth, flesh, and bone. He arched his back and screamed with the pain, twisting and turning as his mind fought the throbbing, hot wound. He crawled a few meters away, the meadow thick with explosions, before darkness overwhelmed him.

Koehl woke suddenly, jerking and fighting. Strong hands held him down, and he struggled for his life, ripping at the fingers that grasped his chest. His shoulder burned with fire. “ Hauptmann , stop fighting.” He recognized the voice. One of his men. He was among Germans. He opened his eyes and saw he was still on the hill. A young private crouched over him, pinning him down, a weary face full of grave concern.

“It’s all right, Private. I’m fine now. You can let me up.”

The soldier hesitated before releasing his grasp. Koehl pulled himself to a sitting position. He could see his line of Ferdinands, which seemed intact except for his own. His own . His machine was gone. He’d protected her through battle after battle, only to lose her here at his moment of triumph. Worse, his men were dead, all of them, even Schmidt, his closest companion in the entire world. The last person he’d truly cared about.

At least they’d destroyed the enemy force. He looked down the hill, and then even that dream was gone. To his utter amazement, with the exception of three burned-out tanks and two half-tracks, the Americans were gone. Somehow, they’d escaped his grasp again. He burned with rage.

“What happened?” he demanded through gritted teeth, addressing the private who just moments ago was trying to help him.

“The Americans were able to push through and escape.”

“How could that happen?” he demanded.

“The tanks that we hit did not block the road. They were able to push on through.”

“I don’t understand how that is possible. We had them!” Koehl tried to lift himself, lunging at the private. The soldier took a step back.

“I’m sorry, sir. When your vehicle was hit, several of the other crews jumped out to try to assist you.”

“You should have stayed at your weapons!” he screamed, his anger mixing with pain. “I didn’t give that order. We had those bastards right where we wanted them! Now they’ve gone and killed Schmidt too. Schmidt!” The captain coughed the last words through a bloody froth spewing from his mouth. His head swam, and he nearly passed out again. He reached out, grabbing the front of the private’s tunic and pulling him near. “I didn’t give that order.”

The private recoiled, his face filling with shame. “I’m sorry, sir. We all are. But we wanted to save you. You’re our leader. You’ve protected us all this time. You’re more important to us than a useless column of Americans.”

Despite his anger, Koehl was surprised and touched by the words. “You should have done what I said.”

“You’re right. We should have followed your orders, but we couldn’t let you die, not when there was a chance to save you. We will follow you anywhere, sir, and follow any order, but we won’t give up a chance to keep you alive.”

They had turned him over now, and a medic was at work on his back. He heard the man fumbling through his equipment.

“No morphine,” he ordered.

“You need it, sir. Let us take care of things.”

“I said no! I must be alert!” Koehl was already thinking beyond the ambush. There was still a chance. Still time to stop them, if he moved fast. “Patch me up and make it fast.”

“Sir, you need a hospital. We’ve done enough on this. We need to get you back to Hammelburg.”

“We are going forward!” said Koehl. “Do your work. The best you can do. We are leaving in ten minutes.”

“There’s no way I can—”

“Do it!”

“ Jawohl, mein Hauptmann . This is going to hurt.”

“You have your orders.”

The medic set to work. Koehl could feel the man poking and prodding with metal tweezers. The pain burned through his entire body, and he had to fight to remain conscious. He felt the prongs digging deeper, and he bit down, his teeth tearing at his tongue as he fought the pain.

“That’s one piece of shrapnel, sir. But I think there’s more.”

The medic continued, digging and moving the metal instrument through his back. One of his men handed the Hauptmann a belt, and he placed the leather between his teeth, biting down hard to endure the agony. He felt another sharp stab as the tweezers dug deeply into his back. He cried out in a muffled yell, then dropped his head, closing his eyes as he battled the pain.

“I think that’s all. Now I need to patch you up. You need stitches, but I can bandage you for now. You really should be at the hospital.”

“I told you, Corporal. Just get it done.”

The medic continued his work. Even the simple cleaning and bandaging of the wound was almost more pain than Koehl could take. In a few minutes more, however, it was over.

“That’s the best I can do, sir.”

Koehl rose, twisting his shoulder back and forth. The pain lanced through him, but he drove it down. “That will have to do. Thank you.” He turned to his senior Ferdinand commander, Lieutenant Jaeger. “Do we have any intelligence on the column?”

The man shook his head. “No, sir, but it’s not hard to guess where they went.”

“The Oflag.”

The lieutenant nodded.

“How long was I out?”

“Not long, sir, maybe ten minutes.”

Koehl calculated this, adding the time to the dressing of his wound. If they hurried, there might still be time to hit the Americans before they took the camp. “Let’s roll out. I’ll jump in with you. We can take the lead. How far out are we from the camp?”

“Maybe a half hour at most.”

“If we gun it?”

“The engines may overheat. It’s an eight percent grade.”

“We’ll have to risk it. Let’s get going right now. Call the infantry in.”

“And your vehicle?” asked Jaeger.

Koehl glanced at the burning husk of his Ferdinand. Even now his friend’s body burned within, along with his precious crew. He shook his head. I can’t think of that right now . “We’ll come back and take care of things later.”