Ruff was careful in wording his question so as not to appear totally ignorant of military matters. "Yes, this all seems to belie what the American President is saying. But I cannot simply come out and declare her a liar based on the movement of a few supply units. Can I, gentlemen?"
Kasper, understanding the real question behind his Chancellor's question, responded. "This is normal procedure for American forces. Some of their officers call it a slingshot. When the situation allows, logistical units and the bulk of the supplies to be used during the initial phases of an offensive operation are moved as far forward as possible in advance of the combat units. The combat units themselves are kept as far back as practical and dispersed. Only at the last moment are those units launched forward. When the combat elements do come forward, they all pass through the pre-established logistical points where they refuel and then move immediately into the attack. In this way the logistical system, normally the bulkiest and most cumbersome part of an army, is already set in place, leaving the roads free for movement of the combat units and able to support combat operations from the very beginning. It is a system the Americans have practiced here in Germany during Reforger exercises and used quite successfully during the first Gulf War."
Finishing his cigarette, Ruff crushed it in an ashtray and looked at the map again. "How soon before we know for sure when and where the Americans will strike, if indeed they intend to strike?"
Picking up where Kasper left off, Mahler responded. "The next elements that move forward, if the Americans stay true to their doctrine, will be corps and division artillery units. Like the logistic units, by moving them forward first, the artillery units will be off the roads and ready to support the maneuver units when they come through. As for the likely axis of advance, when I left we were looking at three major avenues of advance into eastern Germany." Leaning over Ruff's desk, Mahler used his index finger to show Ruff where he was talking about. "One, here, north from Chomutov toward Chemnitz. Another, here, from Teplice into Dresden with a possible supporting attack from Decin also north toward Dresden. There is also the remote possibility that an end run may develop here, from Liberec, through Poland, toward Görlitz."
Mention of the move through Poland surprised Ruff. "They wouldn't dare."
Resuming his position of attention, Mahler responded in a matter-of-fact manner. "It has been confirmed, Herr Chancellor, that General Malin, the commanding general of the Tenth Corps, paid a personal visit to the Polish embassy in Prague yesterday afternoon. This was followed last night by the appearance of the Polish military liaison officer at Tenth Corps headquarters. While such an operation is questionable, General Lange cannot ignore that possibility. He has instructed his planning staff to take such a contingency into account when planning for the redeployment of our forces to counter the American threat."
"When, Colonel Mahler, does General Lange intend to present a full report and his recommendations to me?"
Lifting his right arm to eye level, Mahler studied his watch for a moment before answering. "In four hours, Herr Chancellor. There is an intelligence update by General Schacht's section for the senior members of the General Staff scheduled at 0630, followed by a final review of the draft operational plan to the full staff at 0700 hours. That will take no more than thirty minutes. After that, Generals Lange and Schacht, along with the chief's of their planning staff's, will be prepared to report to your office at 0800 to brief you and your cabinet." Then, as an afterthought, Mahler added, "Will that, Herr Chancellor, be satisfactory?"
With a wave of his hand, Ruff told Mahler that eight o'clock was satisfactory. Thanking the two colonels, he dismissed them. When he was alone, Ruff looked down at the map on the desk before him. So, he thought to himself in the silence of his den, the Americans come again. That thought brought his black-sheathed Hitler Youth dagger to mind. After lighting another cigarette, Ruff leaned back in his seat, taking a long drag as he looked up at the ceiling. Though his eyes were open, he only saw the images of a dark, gray corpse-filled cellar in Regensburg in April of 1945. Every detail, even the smell of that cellar, was as keen to him at that moment as if it had just been yesterday. He could even feel the pain in his leg almost as intensely as he had when the wound was fresh on that distant day. "This time," he said to himself with a hint of self-satisfaction, "I shall be ready."
Arriving at the rail yard in Milovice just as Nancy Kozak's company was finishing breakfast and getting back to loading their vehicles onto rail cars, Scott Dixon and Colonel Vorishnov joined Kozak for breakfast and watched the operation. Using the hood of Kozak's humvee as a table, the three officers ate their breakfast of runny eggs, soggy toast, and limp bacon while Kozak briefed Dixon on the status of her company between mouthfuls. Not that he didn't already know its status, as well as that of all the companies under his command. Dixon's own staff had already given him an update on that less than an hour before. It wasn't the information he was interested in at that moment. What he was really looking at was Kozak's attitude and the attitude of the soldiers in her command. That was something that didn't show up on the charts and graphs at brigade headquarters. For this piece of critical information, Dixon relied heavily upon his own eyes and ears. With what they had to do, Dixon had to be sure that everyone in his command was mentally as well as physically ready. So, informing Dave Yost, his executive officer, that he had had enough staff briefings and planning sessions at both corps and his own command post to last a lifetime, he and Colonel Vorishnov hopped into Dixon's humvee and fled the organized chaos of a brigade headquarters in the throes of planning and preparing for the invasion of Germany.
Referring to notes in a spiral notebook covered with a personalized camouflaged carrying case, Kozak alternated between eating and recounting item by item the status of her command and her concerns. As she did so, Vorishnov watched her in fascination. He watched how she held her fork, how her full, shapely lips moved when she spoke, how she held her head slightly to the side with a few stray wisps of her long hair falling out from under her helmet. Such a lovely girl, he thought, involved in such a cold, brutal business. A veteran himself, Vorishnov wondered how such a beautiful creature as this woman could maintain her femininity and still continue to do what was necessary. Vorishnov was just beginning to imagine what Kozak would look like in an elegant black gown with a jeweled necklace draped about her slender neck instead of the dirty collar of an olive drab wool sweater, when her company first sergeant came up behind her and interrupted her briefing by loudly clearing his throat.
Without showing any indication that she was upset over the first sergeant's interruption, Kozak paused and turned toward him. "Is everyone back at it, First Sergeant?"
Making a slight grunt, First Sergeant Gary Stokes's reply showed his disgust. "Well, ma'am, like my old man use to say, 'Ya can teach 'em, but ya can't learn 'em.' "
She looked at him for a moment with a patient, calm expression on her face while she waited for Stokes to continue. "It's the same old story, Captain Kozak. As soon as someone starts shooting, half of what we tried to teach these people goes out the window." Looking at Dixon, Stokes threw his hands up in disgust. "I mean, the second we go into combat, everyone thinks, Hey! Fuck it, man, this is war, and all the discipline and accountability we try to instill in these guys is forgotten."