James Shipman - Task Force Baum

Outside of the town, Koehl was relieved to see no sign of the Americans. They found the highway and turned to the north-west, rolling toward the ambush point. He kept his eyes busy, moving up and down the landscape for any sign of the enemy, but their luck held, and they reached the turn without incident. Another half hour passed before Koehl saw the outline of roofs in the distance. They had made it. The town of Gräfendorf loomed on the horizon. They moved in among the houses until they reached a checkpoint guarded by an MG 42 machine gun and a half-dozen Germans. Koehl ordered his vehicle to stop, and he climbed out, grimacing a little at the pain from his wound as he awkwardly scrambled down from the Ferdinand.

“Halt!” yelled one of the men, pointing his machine pistol at the Hauptmann .

“Put that damned thing away right now,” barked Koehl. “What do I look like? A GI?”

The soldier hesitated for a moment and then slung his MP 38. “Where is your commander?” the Hauptmann demanded.

The soldier jerked an arm and pointed behind him with his thumb. Koehl nodded and turned to Lieutenant Jaeger, who had poked his head out of the top of the Ferdinand. “Get the whole unit up,” he ordered. “Keep the engines running, and I want one Ferdinand facing back down the road, in case the Americans barge in here before I’m back. I’m going to meet with the commander of the reinforcements and coordinate our plans. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Jaeger nodded and started barking orders. Koehl hurried past the machine-gun nest and down the cobbled streets of Gräfendorf in the direction the soldier had indicated. As he passed a side street, a Tiger tank materialized in his view, the sleek monster aiming its giant cannon in his direction. He has tanks . Good . He walked a few more meters down the street and came to another tank. In front of this vehicle, he found the commander, who looked up, saluting crisply. Koehl returned the gesture.

“You must be Hauptmann Koehl?” the captain inquired.

“ Jawohl . And who are you?”

“I’m Hauptmann Baumann,” said the tank commander. “Hoepple told me you’d be meeting me here. What are we dealing with, and what do you have?”

“A task force of Americans. Maybe fifteen tanks left and a bunch of half-tracks. They could be carrying another five hundred escaped POWs.”

Baumann whistled. “That should slow them down. What do you have?”

“Five Ferdinands fully fueled and armed. I’ve got most of a company of infantry.”

“That’s it?” said the captain, raising an eyebrow. “And you’ve been tangling with the Americans all day? You’re as brave as the colonel said.”

Koehl ignored the comment. “What have you brought with you?”

“I’ve got six Tigers and a battalion of infantry.”

Another six 88s and five hundred men. He had them! “That’s quite a command. Isn’t there a major somewhere?”

Baumann nodded grimly. “There was. His head is somewhere in France. Never could find it.”

“Where do you want us?”

The captain thought about it for a second. “We’ve got the center of the town dialed in, but if you take your Ferdinands and spread them out on the south side, we will be able to hit them from the front and the side at the same time.”

Koehl nodded. “We’ll do it. I’ll be in position in a half hour or less.” He stepped forward and shook Baumann’s hand. “Glad to have you with us,” he said.

“You too, Hauptmann .”

Koehl left, moving quickly now. He returned to his force and gave swift commands. The Ferdinands lurched into motion, maneuvering around the machine-gun nest and down the narrow street. Koehl walked along next to the vehicles, steering them down individual streets until they were all in position, each facing back toward the center. His infantry spread out as well. They were now in a similar position to their ambush at Gemünden, but with four times the force. He took a moment and said a quick prayer of thanks. He felt guilty about offering praise to God for allowing this trap to form, but he was elated and happy that he was in position for his vengeance. For Gerta. For Schmidt .

He positioned himself so he could see out of the town and back down the road where the Americans would be coming. He scanned the fields and the road with his binoculars, impatiently watching for the enemy to materialize. Minutes turned into an hour, and then another. The gray clouds in the heavens began to dim. The first hint of darkness. He stared out with mounting desperation. They had the perfect trap, but the Americans were nowhere to be found. They had disappeared into the countryside. He had failed again.

Oflag XIII

March 27, 1945, 1400 hours

Hall and Stiller made their way back toward the task force. They had to push their way through the pressing throng in order to reach Captain Baum. The commander was in the center of a maelstrom of excitement as the POWs cheered and laughed, clapping and celebrating. After a few more minutes, they reached the remaining vehicles and found the task force leader huddled with his principal officers and a few of the POWs. Baum was in a deep discussion with a colonel, and he looked up mid-sentence, recognizing Stiller.

“Colonel Goode, here is Major Stiller right now.”

The POW turned and saluted. “Major Stiller, a pleasure. Baum here tells me you were looking for someone specific.” Stiller looked to the task force commander and then back. Hall knew his commander was trying to work out whether Baum had spilled the beans.

“I was looking for Lieutenant Colonel Waters, for reasons that need to remain confidential,” he said sternly.

Goode seemed to understand and nodded in response. “That’s my XO. Unfortunately, he was wounded by the damned krauts when we tried to get them to surrender. Did you find him?”

“Yes, he’s in surgery right now.”

Goode’s face showed his concern. “Is he going to make it?”

“Looks like it,” said Stiller. “But he’s not going anywhere right now. Can’t move for a month probably.”

Goode nodded. “That’s what I expected. Damned shame. Don’t worry, Major. I can guess why you’re here, but your reasons are safe with me.” He turned to Baum. “But one problem at a time. The captain and I were beginning to discuss the evacuation of my men. He just gave me the news that he can’t take everyone, but we didn’t get around to a number yet.”

Baum’s face lit up with discomfort. “A couple hundred, tops.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” protested Goode, his eyes widening. “I’ve got fifteen hundred men here. They’ve been waiting for months to be freed. You’ve got to do a hell of a lot better than that.”

Baum shrugged helplessly. “We’ve lost a batch of half-tracks getting here. I’m sorry colonel, but our intelligence estimated three hundred in the camp at the most.”

The POW commander spat on the ground. “Sounds like your S-2 blew it,” said Goode. “What on earth am I supposed to do with everyone else? March them back to the camp? We just killed a bunch of the guards. I’m sure they’ll be real happy to welcome us back. This is a hell of a situation, Captain.”

Baum paused, thinking. “We could take men on the tanks. It will be a risk for them, and we’ll reduce our fighting ability, but we could probably get another hundred that way.”

“That’s a bit better, but not much,” said Goode. “I’ve got to give my men more of a chance than that.”

“We’ve got some food and a weapon or two, don’t we?” said Stiller. “We could distribute some of it to those who might want to try to escape on foot.”