Starfall (Kirov Series Book 39) by Schettler John

Author:Schettler, John [Schettler, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: The Writing Shop Press
Published: 2018-09-28T16:00:00+00:00

01:00 Hours, June 19

Begin in the center, that was the drill. It was no longer a game of careful chess now, where one piece after another would move in quiet succession. That time was over. The front was a vast arc, from the Meuse near Namur, up through Brussels, and then northeast to Tilburg. The twelve divisions that needed orders were those south of Antwerp, all the way to the Meuse. That line had to be withdrawn, this very night, and redrawn somewhere else. Von Rundstedt leaned over the map and fingered Louvain, about 25 kilometers east of Brussels.

“Make that the new center of this position,” he said. “Isn’t that where von Salmuth has his headquarters?”

“Yes sir, with Bayerlein and half the Lehr Division.” There was a question in the younger man’s eyes as he said that, but von Rundstedt answered it immediately.

“Full Panzer divisions have enough trouble these days, so I’m afraid half a division in reserve will not fix this situation. Very well, get started in the center. The divisions closest to Brussels will have to move first, as they have the farthest to go. Tell them to make certain we take every gun we have. Leave nothing behind. As for von Salmuth, tell him he should probably relocate his headquarters to St. Trond, but Bayerlein should stay where he is. As for Eberbach and his 7th Army, pull everything back to the Meuse south of Namur. There’s another 11 divisions that will need orders. Evacuate Charleville and Sedan. Pull everything back from the lower Meuse there, across the valley and into the Ardennes. They will fight us for those cities, but I do not think they will be too eager to get into the forest country.”

Those orders went out, one after another, the telephone exchanges and telegraph stations tapping out coded messages. The three week hiatus on the Brussels line was over.

Panzer leader Hermann Balck always had a saying: “Night marches are life savers.” That would certainly apply here, and once again, the German Army would prove it was still a capable force, pulling out in the darkness, ten thousand engines sputtering to life, every cart, horse team, and commandeered car or truck pressed into service. The German infantry left their field works behind, posted rearguards, and melted away, making the retreat through the grey streets of Brussels in a way that Wellington never had to do, at least in one telling of those events.

A light rain started, and the moonlight glistened on the cobblestones and gaunt brick buildings. Troops filed east, through the city, the locals peering cautiously out from their windows to see what the commotion was all about. When they realized what was happening, only one thought rose in their minds—liberation! They had been listening to the artillery pounding away, its dull rumble shaking the window panes and rattling the teacups, but no attack had been made directly into the city. It would therefore be spared the ravages of war, which was probably something that Hitler would have never permitted.

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