“They’ll do, whatever they are, Walter.”
Fiedler shook his head in mock sternness.
“No can do, Obersturmbannführer. You don’t get heavy tanks. You know that.”
“Looks like a medium to me.”
“Not my decision but, whatever it is, I’m thinking it’ll go to the heavy tank company no matter what. They’re light on vehicles and these will do nicely. Not my decision, Obersturmbannführer.”
Rolf knew he was right, but wanted to have a look at these new vehicles close up.
He moved off, and the other followed out of curiosity.
The young officer in charge of the two transporter vehicles saw Uhlmann’s approach and jumped down, saluting impeccably.
“Beg to report, Obersturmbannführer, Untersturmführer Jung, 3rd Kompagnie, 1st Chars D’Assaut reporting. We’ve returned, following the successful discharge of our orders, with new vehicles for the division.”
Uhlmann smiled at his own young officer, whom he knew well without the introduction.
“Well then, Heinz… what do we have here eh? No, first tell me how you came by them?”
Jung gestured to the man in command of the second transport, who alighted from the tank transporter.
“Now I understand! You’ve been led astray by that old rogue!”
Their relationship was well known, so no one was at all surprised when salutes were hasty and comradely hugs and slaps were long and clearly heartfelt.
“What have you done, Johan, eh?”
Braun, smiling from ear to ear, merely shrugged.
“I followed the express orders of my superior officer, Sir.”
Jung, now surrounded by more men from the foraging party, stood up to the senior NCO.
“Sir, I beg to report that I was persuaded to steal from our allies, on the basis of information gleaned from some drunken British guardsmen. I would not have done so without immense pressure from the Sturmscharführer, and would advise that he is arrested immediately.”
Uhlmann slapped Jung on the shoulder.
“Well spoken. I’ve often thought of doing that myself!”
“Well, think again, the pair of you. I was just discharging my orders… orders… as it happens… written by you, Obersturmbannführer.”
“Damn. You escape again.”
The laughter was universal and the whole group were relaxed.
Cigarettes went round before Uhlmann posed the question.
“So, what have you got here?”
“These are the very latest British tanks. The opportunity to take this was too good to pass on. They’re Centurion tanks. 84mm gun that can use the new ammo. We’ve picked up some of that as well. No spares for the engine, but we can work on that. I’ve had a play inside and it seems pretty good. Stabilised gun system, all sorts of lovely toys. I’m assuming you’ll let me have it as my own tank. Seeing as I know all the bad things about you?”
Everyone laughed except Fiedler, who was quick to interject.
“No, Sturmscharführer. As I was explaining when you drove in, these will be slated for the Schwere Panzer Kompagnie, you can be assured of it.”
Braun prepared to challenge but Uhlmann waved him down.
“That’s the way of it, Johann. However, I can say I’ve set aside a turbine Schwarzpanther just for you to ride in, if that helps?”
Braun weighed it up and figured he had done all right.
Not that it mattered of course.
Uhlmann climbed onto the trailer.
“Come on then. You going to show me around this beast?”
“Of course.”
“What’s this?”
“Ah. It’s a naked woman.”
“No it isn’t. Even I can see that!”
“Lady Godiva rode through her home town naked. That’s what it says.”
“I prefer pictures. Anyway, show me.”
The two heaved themselves up and dropped into the turret of what had, until recently, been Charles’ Centurion tank.
1312 hrs, Sunday, 1st December 1946, Dai Ichi Life Insurance Building, Tokyo, Japan.
Far East Command, more commonly referred to as FECOM, had been in being for a little over two months.
Its commander, Douglas MacArthur, did not feel valued, despite the huge ‘empire’ over which he held sway.
His command of the Pacific War that ultimately laid low the Empire of Japan had been constantly overshadowed by the German War, and subsequently the war against the Soviet Union, in which Japan played a minor part… or at least that was how the papers so often played it, despite his own large set piece battles on land, at sea, and in the air.
The great crusade against the evil Empire had been the focus of American rage following Pearl Harbor, slipping to sharing newspaper inches with Northern Europe, Italy, and the other places from where fascism had been driven.
The focus swung wholly back to him after the German capitulation, and he enjoyed the media spotlight upon his generalship at Okinawa, even though the fighting dragged on and on, way past the deadline he set and reset, and on into August.
When the acts of surrender on Okinawa were accepted, MacArthur had taken centre stage, but events in Europe always overtook him, and he was singularly hacked off with it all.
Set against the background of a disgruntled C-in-C, the staff of FECOM worked hard to do everything well and give MacArthur little to find fault with.
His relentless need to have invasion plans for Siberia updated drew constant groans from the men and women under his command, but they set to it
MacArthur’s first idea had to be to name the projected Siberian invasion after the commander of the last US forces to set foot there, the American Expeditionary Force Siberia, which landed in August 1918.
His advisors quickly advised, and he quickly understood that Operation Graves, named for Major General William S. Graves, should be consigned to the waste bin as wholly inappropriate.
It was subsequently replaced with the more upbeat ‘Operation Tiger’.
The sister operation, designed to explode out of China to numerous points west and north, was known as ‘Operation Cougar’
The staff of FECOM kept both constantly updated, integrating new units into the plans, removing those who returned stateside, upgrading expectations when new equipment arrived, or downgrading when some other theatre required an asset they had marked down for use.
Today, MacArthur was taking lunch with two of his senior men, Admiral John H. Towers, the C-in-C Pacific Fleet, and Lieutenant General Ennis C Whitehead, C-in-C PACUSA, the unified command group for the US Air forces in the Pacific.
As usual, lunch did not obstruct military business, although it was taken at a slower and more relaxed pace.
MacArthur slipped a piece of beef into his mouth and used the redundant fork to point at the folder sat alongside the naval officer.
“That the latest Tiger updates on the carrier force problem, John?”
Clearing his mouth, Admiral Towers spoke as he loaded another forkful.
“No, Sir, that it isn’t. The temporary loss of Task Force 58 is a bitch, that’s for sure, but if Tiger becomes a reality tomorrow, we can still run an effective prosecution of the existing plan. Just need to shuffle the assets some.”
Again the fork selected the folder.
“So what’s that you’re dragging along? Mess accounts?”
They chuckled together, the ‘Top Secret’ markings clearly marking the contents as anything but.
“No, Sir. Something better examined without the plates and cutlery getting in the way.”
MacArthur nodded his understanding.
“Fair enough, John. Wanna bring us up to speed as far as you can while we eat?”