Deciding that he had best dismount and go over to brief the corps commander, Vorishnov ordered the driver of his tank to cut the engine at the same time that the man riding the commander's hatch of Malin's carrier had his driver cut their engine. The sudden silence enveloped the patch of woods, Vorishnov, Malin, and the tiny tank company like a blanket. Now all the subtle noises, like people talking or sponson box doors being slammed shut, that had been masked by the sound of diesel engines drifted throughout the cold, damp morning air. With one eye on Malin and an occasional glance down the long straight road to the south, Vorishnov started to dismount when Malin from his carrier waved over to him and yelled, "No, stay where you are, Colonel. I'll join you over there on your tank." Without waiting for a response, Big Al ducked down and out of his carrier through the troop door in the rear.
Vorishnov saw that Malin, like everyone else in the corps, was tired. His walk and the way he carried his head reminded Vorishnov of a man carrying a heavy load. Of course, Vorishnov knew that the general did have a heavy load, several in fact. He just didn't know which one, the responsibility of commander or his anticipated arrest and trial for disobeying the American President, was weighing heaviest on him at that moment. Climbing up, Malin smiled at the driver, who could only manage a simple nod in return. Even the loader, a large jolly fellow, was slow in coming to attention as he stood on his seat and saluted the general. Pulling himself up and onto the turret, Malin came up next to Vorishnov and squatted down on his haunches. "Any contact with Dixon yet?"
Pulling his combat crewman's helmet off and setting it down on the roof of the turret, Vorishnov nodded as he ran his gloved fingers through his matted hair. "Yes, General, about ten minutes ago, just before we broke out of the tree line here. Colonel Dixon, who is traveling with the lead element, announced that he expected to reach the link-up point within fifteen minutes." Looking down at his watch, Vorishnov studied it for a moment, then pointed down the hard-surfaced road to the tree line three thousand meters to the south. "I expect them to be coming out of there any time now."
Malin followed Vorishnov's outstretched arm, looked at the far tree line, and simply nodded. "Good. Good. I'll be glad when Scotty and his wandering strays are finally back with us."
Vorishnov was about to ask Malin if it was a good idea for him to be so far forward when he heard a call for him come in over the headphones of the crewman's helmet that he had laid on the turret in front of him. Picking it up, he recognized Dixon's voice. "Excuse me, General, that's Colonel Dixon calling now."
Smiling, Malin reached out. "Here, Colonel, could I have that?"
Knowing of the close relationship Malin and Dixon had, the request did not surprise Vorishnov. "Of course, General."
Without bothering to put the crewman's helmet on, Malin put the earphone as close to his ear as he could and pulled the boom mike over to his mouth. Then, before he spoke into the mike, he glanced over to Vorishnov. "This thing in the secure mode?"
Vorishnov nodded.
"Good." Then depressing the transmit lever, Malin called Dixon. "Colonel Dixon, this is Big Al. What took you so damned long?"
For several moments there was silence. Finally Dixon, realizing that it really was Malin, came back with the best response that he could think of. "Sorry, sir. But I forgot something in Prague and had to go back for it."
This caused Malin's face to light up. Watching, Vorishnov knew for the first time that all was going to come out all right. The Americans were beginning to regain their terribly unmilitary and inappropriate sense of humor.
"Scotty, this is Big Al. You almost at the link-up point? Over."
"Affirmative. I have the farmhouse in sight. Over."
"Great. I'm in the wood line to the north of the farm with your Russian counterpart. How about I meet you at the link-up point? Over."
There was a pause. "Roger. As soon as we fire the recognition signals. Over."
Turning to Vorishnov, Malin asked about the recognition signal. Having heard Dixon's request, Vorishnov was already reaching down for the two star clusters. "Here, General, a green star cluster followed by a red. They respond with a green and white."
"Okay, then fire away."
"Before I do, I need to bring a tank up to go with you to the link-up point."
Malin smiled. "I don't think that'll be necessary, Colonel."
Vorishnov insisted. "We are still, as you would say, in Indian country. I am afraid as the senior tactical commander here I must insist that you have an escort."
Knowing that Vorishnov was right, Malin nodded. "Okay, Colonel. Bring up your tank and fire the star clusters. I'm going over to my carrier to get ready."
Without a salute, Malin stood, moved over to the edge of the turret, and climbed down. As he went, Vorishnov felt a sudden pang of sorrow. This would be Malin's last official act. For once Dixon and the two battalions traveling with him had passed through this point, his career would be over. How terrible, Vorishnov thought, to end such a great effort on such a melancholy note. Then, with a slight shake of his head, as if it were necessary to shake his mind free of his last thought before he could move to the next, Vorishnov yelled to the young company commander to have one tank prepare to move out to the link-up point as soon as he fired the star clusters.
From his position behind the lead tank of his column, Seydlitz looked up through the barren tree branches to the west at the brooding gray clouds. He had greeted this cruel winter day with mixed feelings. The low gray clouds would limit the interference they could expect from American ground-attack aircraft. Though capable of flying, finding their target, and hitting it in just about any kind of weather, the American pilots showed a distinct distaste for coming in low and exposing their expensive aircraft to the murderous anti-aircraft fire that Seydlitz's company and the attached Gepard anti-aircraft guns threw up at them. Still that didn't mean they were impotent. Even at an altitude of ten thousand feet the guided weapons and deadly 30mm cannons of the ground-attack aircraft took their toll. And the further north the 2nd Panzer went, the worse it became. Of the seven tanks that Seydlitz had lost, four had been to air strikes.
So there was much to be thankful for today. If only the ground would freeze again. Then, rather than being restricted to roads and a few patches of high ground, Seydlitz would be able to freely maneuver his company. Again, the further north they went and the closer to the sea, the worse things became, especially in this area. Marshes in this part of Germany were numerous and, to a tank, as deadly as a minefield. Already that morning they had passed three Leopards and two Marders that had strayed onto what they thought were fields of solid ground that had turned out to be bottomless pits of mud. Mired in the soft black mud all the way to their fenders, the tanks were as useless to the battalion as if they had been hit by an enemy anti-tank missile. The only good thing about this miserable weather was that the Americans too would be confined to the roads.