James Shipman - Task Force Baum

The Hauptmann climbed into his new Ferdinand, taking the commander’s seat, and within a few minutes, his reduced force was rumbling down through the narrow path and back onto the road. They turned left, passing the hulk of a burning Sherman and up the steep incline toward Oflag XIII. As they moved along, the lieutenant shouted up to him. “I know a shortcut, sir. If we take the branch to the left, we have a straighter shot at things. I think we can shave off five minutes or more.”

“Take your path, Lieutenant,” Koehl ordered.

The column moved forward, and Koehl utilized the radio to contact Colonel Hoepple.

“What is it, Koehl?”

“We caught them in an ambush and chewed them up pretty well. They lost three Shermans and several half-tracks.”

“Excellent work, Hauptmann . Did we suffer any casualties?”

“We did… I lost my Ferdinand.”

There was silence on the other end. “I’m sorry, Koehl. Did anyone get out?”

“Negative.”

“Schmidt?”

“He’s gone.” Koehl’s voice trembled with the words.

“I’m so sorry, Hauptmann . Perhaps you should just come back.”

“Not an option, sir. We’re going to get them.”

“I understand. Anything I can do here?”

“If you can find any reinforcements, we need them. I want to throw everything at them and crush the rest of the force.”

“I’ve been working on that. For now, engage and keep them busy. And, Koehl,” the colonel’s voice softened over the receiver, “keep yourself alive, do you hear me?”

“ Jawohl. ”

As they drew near the Oflag, a dim thunder could be heard even over the roaring of the Ferdinand’s diesel engines. The attack has already commenced , he thought. He had to get into position and stop the Americans while he still had a chance. Another few minutes passed, and in front of him he saw the camp unfolding. He could already see the blackened smoke of a half-dozen burning buildings. To his right, in an open field, he observed the enemy force charging rapidly toward the fence line, cannons blazing, followed by clusters of infantry. The half-tracks were nowhere to be seen and probably were back up the road a bit. He cursed himself for taking the shortcut, as otherwise he would have come up directly behind the unarmored troop carriers and destroyed them in detail before he mounted the attack on the remaining enemy tanks.

There was no time for such regrets. The Americans would be inside the camp in mere moments. He thought about pulling his entire force into line before he commenced his attack, but by then it might be too late. Making up his mind, he didn’t hesitate. “Fire!” he screamed down into the turret.

“But, sir,” objected the lieutenant, “we’re the only vehicle in position.”

“No time, Lieutenant. Fire!”

A moment later, the Ferdinand jerked back as the massive 88mm cannon erupted in flame. A Sherman exploded in the distance.

“Reload!” Koehl demanded.

A few moments passed. “Ready!” came a voice from below.

“Fire!” A round exploded near another tank, missing by a few yards. The process was repeated and another shot fired, striking a light tank. “Keep them coming!” he screamed. They were destroying the enemy armor without any resistance. In a few minutes, with luck, he would have them all. Even now, the Ferdinands were moving around him and up into position. Soon he would have the entire weight of his force to bring down on the Americans.

“Sir, it’s headquarters,” said the lieutenant.

“Not now. Tell them we’re in combat. And get that next round loaded!”

His vehicle fired again. Another near miss. Damn it! He was used to his own gunner, who always found the mark. “Another round. Hit your target!”

“Sir, HQ insists on speaking with you.”

Koehl reached down in frustration and tore the headset out of Jaeger’s hands. “What is it?” he asked in frustration.

“Is that you, Koehl? It’s Colonel Hoepple. I’ve great news: we have reinforcements coming up. Two companies of men and some Tigers. I’m setting up an ambush, and I want you to join them. Do you have your map out? Its coordinates—”

“Not now, sir! I have them in my sights!” interrupted Koehl. “I’ve got them right where I want them.”

“Come on now, Hauptmann . You have a few Ferdinands against how many tanks? It’s not enough. Pull back and meet my reinforcements. Remember, it’s what you asked for.”

“I don’t need any damned support at this point! I’ve got them right now!”

“Koehl, listen to me,” said the colonel, his voice stern and cold. He’d never heard the colonel sound like this before. “Your judgment is clouded by grief. You’re taking risks with your men and equipment that I cannot let you continue. I’m giving you a direct order. You will pull back and join the reinforcements. Do you understand me?”

Koehl could have torn his hair in frustration. The enemy was here, distracted by the camp defense, in an open field and vulnerable. A few minutes more and he could wipe them out. But he had a direct order from the colonel, and orders were orders. “Please, sir, you don’t understand the situation.”

“It’s you who isn’t seeing things clearly, Hauptmann . Do I need you to turn your command over?”

Koehl stared at the receiver. Had it come to that? He’d served with the colonel for years. Still, he had to try. “Sir, if you just give me a moment to explain. I have them right now in position, I only need a few more minutes and I’ll—”

“Enough! You are relieved, Hauptmann . Hand the receiver to Lieutenant Jaeger. You will report back to base immediately. Do you understand?”

Koehl dropped the receiver down into the turret, not even bothering to tell his crew what was happening. He stared out at the battle before him in disbelief. He had them, had them here in his grasp, and now he had to retreat. Worse, he’d lost the confidence of his commander. He could hear the Americans laughing at him. He thought of his sister, of Schmidt. No matter, there was nothing he could do. Even as he watched, his Ferdinand rumbled into reverse and backed down the road until the field and the fight were fading away.

Oflag XIII

March 27, 1945, 1300 hours

Curtis lay helplessly on his back in the German barracks. Knorr loomed over him, pistol drawn. The captain closed his eyes, his breath coming in ragged, tearing gasps. He waited for the bullet that would take everything away, his pain, his sorrow, his future. He heard the slide of the bolt as the German moved a round into the chamber of his Walther P38 9mm pistol. The sergeant placed the barrel against the middle of his chest.

“So long, Captain. I hope you have a pleasant journey to hell.”

Curtis heard a sharp explosion and a flare before blackness overwhelmed him. His mind ripped through images from the past; flashes of light taunted the darkness around him. He was dead, moving to another life or whatever awaited him in the abyss. Strangely, he could still feel the pain in his back and a suffocating lack of breath. He felt himself gasp, and his arms shoved up, pushing something heavy off him. He blinked in surprise, his eyes blurry again as he tried to focus on the scene around him.

Nothing made sense. He could see the sky above, the same gray, cloudy canopy he’d faced all day. Dust swirled around, brown particles floating gently down. He was covered in wood and material. He pulled himself up, looking around. He realized he was still in the barracks. The roof had collapsed. A few feet away, he saw the body of Knorr, twisted and unmoving under a pile of rubble, his face pasty white and blood running in a rivulet from the edge of his mouth.