Opening Moves

“Anyway Major, now I must have piss of nature too. Goodbye and thank you. Major Ramsey.” Salutes exchanged and Yarishlov was gone.

Ramsey struggled to find a way to approach the matter without going at it head-on. So he did. “Did you tell the Russian about the symposiums Major?”

“Hell no, just told him we get a whole load of boring lectures that’s all.”

“And Biarritz? You mentioned Biarritz.”

“That’s where I’m going on furlough next week Major. Just told the Colonel that he might want to go there someday.”

Ramsey could not help think the very obvious thought that the Russians might well want to go there one day, in something painted green, but resisted further enquiries. He would have to mention this in his report anyway, so he would leave it for now. What Ramsey did know was that both words appeared on his top secret joining orders for 6th August, for a week’s special training. Secret was a word he understood and clearly the yank did not.

None the less, he took further stock of the young Texan in front of him and his eyes were drawn to an ornate emblem on his chest.

“May I enquire what that is for Major? It is very grand and must be important indeed.”

The American swelled and puffed out his chest.

“I got that for being second in my class at the Texas Military Institute Major. That reminds me. The Colonel said you have the Victoria Cross. What did you get that for?

“For being first in my class in the School of the Reichswald, Major. There were no prizes for being second. Good day to you.”

And with a salute that Ramsey had never meant less in his entire career, he strode off towards the Brigadier and his staff.

1602 hrs Monday, 23rd July 1945, Former SS Panzer Training grounds, Paderborn, British Occupied Germany.

Yarishlov joined up with the Soviet entourage returning to Schlangen for a dinner with the American Staff. He was beckoned forward by the general.

“Ride with me Arkady Arkadyevich and tell me your thoughts.”

“Yes, Comrade General,” directing his own staff car to follow without him.

As the Mercedes-Benz, which had been appropriated some weeks before hand, started off on the short journey, Yarishlov spoke further.

“I believe that the unit we saw today is extremely inexperienced, unless the Americans are deliberately misleading us. I am not sure they are that clever.”

“You are right Colonel, they saw little action. We have no intelligence on a 15th Tank Division in any case but we know they have been in Europe for only a few months. However, it is not important. What is important to me is what you think of them?” The strange emphasis on the word “them” caused Arkady a moment’s puzzlement.

He replied with the truth as he saw it.

“They have neither the skills nor the equipment to function properly in the field. Their experienced units simply have to be better than these we have seen today or the green toads would have devoured them in an instant. The new Pershing tank looks nice but it floundered in modest mud as you saw.”

“Indeed. Whichever officer directed that second assault would be counting trees in Siberia now if he were one of mine.”

“One of yours would not have done such a thing Comrade General,” stated Arkady with total conviction.

“But what of them Arkady? What of them?”

“I spent some time with a British Major. He is a professional for certain Comrade General, as were the others British I saw.” He paused just long enough to consider the next statement. “The Americans I spoke to were fools. I saw not one man there who I would trust on my right-hand in combat Comrade General.”

Arkady felt as if his words were a catalyst to something, but he didn’t know what.

The General smiled and merely said, softly and with certainty, “Fools indeed Arkady.”

The American units had been running field exercises at Paderborn the whole week before the Soviet visit in an effort to get combat effective. They were actually a conglomerate of newly arrived formations as yet unassigned to any division but it had been decided to place them under the fictitious umbrella of the 15th US Armored Division purely for the purpose of masking their true identity. Had they been veteran US tankers perhaps the reports that went back to Moscow might have said something very different.

Chapter 23 – THE REPORTS

A moment of luck, good or bad, often plays a greater part in our destiny than hours of design.

Ernst-August Knocke

1430 hrs Wednesday, 25th July 1945, Soviet Military Intelligence Headquarters, Schloss Gundorf, Leipzig, Soviet Occupied Germany.