Three dead and eight wounded did nothing to calm his anger, and, even though he had blazed away with his .50cal from his Dodge command car, shooting off a belt of ammo had not assuaged his anger, neither had the downing of one of the enemy craft.
The air waves crackled with anger as he tore a strip off the highest ranking USAAF officer he could reach by radio, making the man personally responsible for covering every inch of air over Third Army.
Patton had almost calmed down when the headquarters convoy reached the river bridge at Zell-Mosel.
Despite the ongoing clear-up operation, graves registration and service units had made only modest inroads into the detritus of battle.
Normally unshaken by the sights and aftermath of intense combat, ‘Old Blood and Guts’ remained remarkably quiet until arriving at the selected headquarters position at Haserich.
Ahead, Third Army’s soldiers pressed hard towards the Rhine.
Standing with his hands on his hips, the classic Patton pose, he considered his personal options, which took about two seconds, as part of his mind was already determined to go forward.
“Hap, you’re gonna hold the fort here. I’m going on up to Ernie’s HQ, just to put a burr under his ass. Be back later.”
The statement brooked no argument, not that Gay was going to raise one; he knew his man too well.
Patton was already some distance away, calling the Captain in command of his escort to ‘get the men mounted the hell up’.
Within two minutes, Patton’s convoy was only noticeable by the faint noise of engines in the distance.
George Patton had been awake for over three hours, dragged from his bed by news of Soviet counter-attacks.
The last report arrived, speaking of successful defence and battle lines held… and more besides.
Hobart Gay took the message and moved to his commander, who was contemplating the successes of Harmon’s XXII Corps.
Ernest Harmon had already beaten back a number of concerted counterattacks and was following up hard, pushing the 16th Armored Division up alongside the 35th Infantry and pressing the retreating Soviets all the way to the Rhine.
“General…”
His concentration broken, Patton accepted the proffered message form.
“Well I’ll be goddamned. Mark it up, Hal.”
Patton returned the paper, substituting it for coffee, and watched as his CoS directed the staff to upgrade the situation map, reflecting the unexpected turn of events at Koblenz.
‘Sonofagun… damn…’
Small raiding parties had been paradropped, some had even used boats to get upriver, and all had met with startling success.
Every bridge on the Rhine from Neuwied to Koblenz-Horchheim had been primed for blowing, and each was saved by the speedy intervention of the raiding parties.
Only the Metternich Bridge over the Moselle had been destroyed completely, the Pfaffendorfer Bridge in Koblenz proper partially damaged, the recent repairs made by Soviet engineers removed by Soviet high-explosives.
Clearly, the bridge was still capable of supporting the vitals of war, as made clear by the report from US XVII Corps’ 4th Armored Division, which indicated that their lead elements were already fighting in the Koblenz districts of Ehrenbreitstein, Horchheim and Pfaffendorfer Höhe, all on the east bank.
Opportunity knocked twice before lunch, as Harmon’s boys broke through to the Rhine at Mainz, although heavy resistance prevented them from crossing at the rush.
Patton had already dispatched amphibious assault equipment to broach the huge river at Sankt Goarhausen, and had begged more from SHAEF and US 12th Army Group, most of which was already on the road for Mainz.
It was a good day for the Third.
The good days had continued, only the odd temporary setback discouraging the ebullient Patton, whose confidence cascaded down to the very point of Third Army.
Wiesbaden’s Ducal Palace provided Patton and his staff with a much needed bricks and mortar location where they could wash away the grime of being on the road for nearly two weeks.
The old Music Hall in the Mittelbau provided a suitable venue for the main business of governing a vast army, and it was here that George S. Patton received the news of a bloody defeat.
“Goddamnit! What was the man thinking? That the sonsofbitches would keep on running? Goddamnit!”
Third Army had crossed the Rhine with an ease that beggared belief.
Mainz fell after a short but intense tussle, 35th Infantry and 16th Armored taking a heavy hit but getting the job done.
Koblenz felt a few hammer blows, as Soviet commanders desperately tried to push the XVII Corps back over the Rhine. The counter-attacks all failed but ate up valuable time, allowing the Red Army to re-establish itself in the hills beyond.
The small crossing that Patton manufactured at Sankt Goarhausen became a success beyond his wildest dreams, and he focussed much of his bridging assets there.
Four separate bridges appeared, permitting US III Corps to come up and, with all the spare units Patton could muster, from tank-destroyers to engineers, cross the Rhine and exploit the relative absence of organised Soviet resistance and linking the crossing points at Koblenz and Mainz with incredible speed and efficiency.
Ernest Harmon’s XXII Corps had been moved to the flank for a rest on the 8th April, allowing US VI Corps to take up the running for Frankfurt.
The experienced units of VI Corps, 10th US Armored and 45th US Infantry, slugged it out with battle-hardened Soviet units, pushing their way into the western outskirts of Frankfurt by the evening of April 12th.
Meanwhile, Patton organised further excursions.
Hindered by US Sixth Army Group’s problems around Heidelberg and Mannheim, even Old Blood and Guts shied away from launching his men around to the south of Frankfurt, which inevitably meant his eyes had turned to the northern route.
He ordered US XXI Corps through the mountains and deep into enemy lines, intent on cutting enemy supply lines through Butzbach and Reichelsheim. He reassigned 15th US Armored Division for some extras clout.
Major General Fairvale, commander of 15th Armored, was the subject of Patton’s present tirade.
The inexperienced division, despite having some of the best tanks available to the US Army, had walked into a Soviet trap at Bad Nauheim, one that cost the division heavily, as well as halted the flanking drive in its tracks.
“Goddamnit!”
Contrary to perceptions, Patton rarely fired his Generals, preferring to mould them and educate them in place.
However, in this moment, and given other issues relating to the command of the 15th, he made an executive decision.
“Fairvale gets a rear line job as of now. Who we got to replace him?”
“General Silvester?”
Lindsay McDonald Silvester had been commander of 7th Armored, but had been relieved following perceptions of poor performance in the German War.
His mind processed matters for a moment before he made a swift decision.
“Find Major General Silvester and tell him he’s ordered to report to me a-sap.”
Thirty-five minutes later, the newly appointed commander of 15th Armored, feeling uplifted by Patton’s full confidence in his abilities, was on the road to, as Patton had put it, ‘get the goddamned division sorted out and moving east before I put my boot up everyone’s ass.’
Colonel Bell was a man on a mission.