Uhlmann handed over the hastily prepared document, and then proceeded to recite the basics from memory.
“I have thirty-six dead, one hundred wounded. That Aardvark,” he pointed at the disappearing trailer, “Is probably the only thing we’ll salvage off the battlefield at the moment. I’ve lost two of the Panthers for now, although mine only lost a track, which is why I borrowed this little beast.”
The Wolf showed the signs of heavy action, clear silver scrapes where machine gun bullets had pecked away at the armour, and two larger scars where something bigger had come close to ending its life.
“All four of the aüfklarer Antilopes are gone. Heavy losses amongst the crews.”
He gratefully accepted a mug of coffee and a cigarette.
“Three Hyenas are gone, plus my support infantry took a hammering.”
He remembered something he should have said earlier.
“Krause is dead. His Felix took two solid hits… burned out.”
Another old campaigner was gone.
Uhlmann paused whilst Knocke shook his head and grasped his Panzer commander’s shoulder.
“Anyway, it’s all in the report. We walked into a fucking firestorm, Brigadefuhrer. What went wrong? Why didn’t we know about what we were facing?”
Knocke gave a shrug, the telephone still pressed to his ear.
He covered it with his hand and spoke softly.
“An intelligence failure, …a reconnaissance failure, Rolf. Someone simply didn’t do their job. We will find out… yes… yes, I want to speak directly to General De Lattre… no… you will get him on this line immediately… that is an order… now!”
Knocke turned his conversation back to Uhlmann.
“We will find out in time, but for now, we need to find a weak spot and plan for another attempt. Our beloved Molyneux is on his way up here to lead us to victory, although we’re all under arrest for disobedience of his orders.”
Rolf choked on his cigarette.
“What?”
“He wanted us to attack again… same plan… no reorganisation, just attack again.”
Uhlmann exchanged looks with St. Clair and the rest of the officers present.
He opened his mouth to speak but Knocke cut him short.
“General de Lattre? General Knocke here…. no… I’m afraid not, Herr General. I’m reporting a defeat… we were stopped dead by a large enemy force that we didn’t know about… no… no, not there. No… we didn’t get that far, Sir… Route 3323, one kilometre west of Wilhelmshausen… heavy… roughly forty percent of my lead units and,” Knocke looked at Uhlmann as he examined the report, taking Uhlmann’s shrug as confirmation, “And unusually high casualties amongst the unit commanders. It’ll take some time to get my men back on line for another attack, and we’ll need to revise the plan. Also, General Molyneux has ordered our immediate arrests and is on his way here to ensure matters are carried out to his satisfaction.”
Knocke listened intently, nodding to a man many kilometres away, occasionally humming a positive response.
“Yes, Herr General. General Bittrich is out of contact at the moment, but I’ll confirm his temporary position as soon as I contact him. My commanders think it’ll be two hours before we can get back into the fight. We will have a plan by then. You’ll have your bridgehead, General de Lattre… but… th…”
De Lattre butted into the conversation, understanding the issue that needed to be addressed.
“Yes, I understand that order, General.”
Those watching saw a smile declare itself.
“No, I do not need you to repeat that order, Sir.”
The smile broadened further.
“Yes, Herr General. Thank you and goodbye.”
He handed the telephone back and slapped Rolf on the shoulder.
“Get your men ready to renew the attack, Rolf. I will get you some decent information, so we know what we are up against here. Now go.”
Opening his words to the whole group, Knocke continued.
“We will make our own plans. We’ll commence at 1500, so officers group here at 1400. Find General Bittrich immediately; let him know he has command of Normandie until Lavalle is back in action.”
He clapped his hands, chivvying his staff along.
“Now, we must move quickly. I want the latest reconnaissance photos, reports from the last action, everything here, on my desk, before I finish this coffee, kameraden.”
The officers and men moved in all direction like a bursting star.
Camerone, wounded and stung, would return to the field.
Bittrich had been found and was in control of Group Normandie, his absence caused by nothing more sinister than a vehicle breakdown that kept him out of the loop during the vital time.
Hitching a ride on a passing supply truck, Général de Brigade Willi Bittrich, or as he was now, by De Lattre’s recent order, temporary Général de Division arrived ready to apologise for his lateness.
The loss of Lavalle, albeit temporary, was not something he had anticipated, but the ex-SS officer was up to the task and took up the reins immediately.
He, Knocke, and senior staff officers were poring over the map and latest reports when Molyneux’s entourage swept into the site, changing the atmosphere from one of confident preparation to that of suspicion and threat.
The Frenchman strode into the command tent and stopped at the table, his face dark and malevolent, silently waiting for some recognition of his status and presence.
Bittrich obliged by calling the assembly to attention, throwing up a salute, and starting into a formal report, one that was cut short with malice.
“Herr General Molyneux, I have taken command of Normandie and…”
“Shut your mouth! Just shut your mouth right now! I’ll deal with you later!”
Molyneux slammed his hand on the table, sending pens and documents into the air.
His hand shot out, a single gloved finger holding a magnificent polished ebony cane, trimmed with elegant silver settings, pointing out the two main targets for his malice.
“You, you… you… fucking useless German bastard!”
Knocke stood silently and expressionless.
“And you, you traitorous pig!”
St. Clair blanched and his face showed his anger and contempt.
“Why are you still here? I ordered your arrest! Capitaine!”
The officer commanding Molyneux’s troops stepped forward, ready to do his General’s bidding.
“Capitaine, detain that… and that,” he pointed at the two Legion officers with all the contempt he could muster, “And if they resist, you may shoot them out of hand.”
Captain Maillard relished his instructions more than anyone realised, except Molyneux, who had selected him purposefully and, perhaps, Plummer, who knew everything there was to know about anyone in the Corps headquarters.
Maillard’s extended family had suffered huge loss at the hands of the Waffen-SS in the atrocity at Oradour-sur-Glane in 1944.
That no one present had been anywhere near the massacre was of no consequence.
To him, all SS were to be hated and exterminated.
Plummer was not present to enact De Lattre’s long-standing instructions, having already absented himself due to the death of a family member.
Had he been there, what came to pass might never have occurred.
The atmosphere in the command post went from suspicion and threat to one of extreme danger for all concerned.
The four men positioned behind Maillard tightened their grips on their Mulhouse manufactured ST-45s.[6]
It said a lot about Molyneux that he had allocated the modest supply of the excellent new assault rifles to his rear headquarters before sending any to the front.
6
Author’s note – For RG purposes, the French designated the refined ST-45 as the CEAM m46. I have retained the former German nomenclature for ease.