“That’s not thunder,” Harris whispered.
They stepped outside and looked to the south, toward the river line. They knew there would be nothing to see, but they had to make the effort. As they stood, others emerged from their tents, stopped, and turned in the same direction, until thousands of men were simply staring toward the sound of the distant rumbles that presaged agony instead of rain. The volume of sound increased until it was a steady roar, and they knew they were hearing an artillery barrage of truly epic proportions. God help the men on the river line.
For Ludwig and the men of the 4th Rifles, the night march had been an uncomfortable but not a dangerous experience. German planners had done well, and their way was marked by white ribbons and human guides to direct them. When they reached a point about a mile from the first American defenses without any response from the Yanks, the men of the 4th started to feel better about their prospects for surviving the day. They fed themselves, checked their weapons for the hundredth time, and tried to rest, even sleep.
The shock and roar of the cannons jolted them and they thanked God that the shells were coming from their guns and landing on the Americans. They had all heard cannon fire before, but nothing like this! It was almost deafening, and the earth seemed to vibrate.
About midmorning, they were ordered into ranks and sent out toward the Americans. There were cheerful jokes that no Yanks would be left.
As they swept forward it was with a feeling of supreme strength and confidence. Even though Ludwig could see only a few dozen yards in either direction and sometimes not even all the men in his own company, he sensed enormous numbers all about him. Sometimes when fewer trees blocked his view, or the men moved to a slightly higher point of ground, he saw glimpses of the other companies, battalions, and regiments all sweeping forward with him. He also sensed that the huge numbers he could sometimes observe were only a fraction of what was going on out of his range of vision.
Another small comfort was the presence of other German soldiers in front of them. He wished them well. Even though there was a tendency to deride American efforts, he knew from experience what could be done from behind a good defensive position.
As they advanced, the barrage seemed to advance with them, and the sounds of impact and explosion caused the ground to vibrate under Ludwig’s feet. He looked for Captain Walter and saw him striding erect, once again apparently without fear, urging his men on, and Ludwig wished he could be like that. He also wished that the captain would not get shot, as the battle was not that one sided. He could hear the rattle of small-arms fire and the bark of smaller artillery pieces and knew they were coming from the American lines. Every so often he would hear someone scream or cry out in pain and fear. More often than he would have liked, they passed German dead and wounded.
Ludwig had started the advance cold and wet as a result of the November mist. Now he could no longer feel the weather or his own discomfort. His heart was pumping as though it would go through his chest, and he was aware of sounds coming from his own throat.
Finally they broke into a clearing and he could see both the American earthworks and the river to their rear. How foolish, he thought; they could be trapped. However, he quickly realized that would not be so. As the advancing waves of Germans before him moved over and into the American lines, the brown-uniformed Yanks retreated over pontoon bridges to the other side of the river. He watched spellbound as German guns raked the last Americans crossing to the relative safety of the east bank of the river and saw men fall into the cold water, where they drifted toward the distant ocean.
A series of small explosions lifted the bridges off their temporary moorings and sent them floating down the Housatonic along with the bodies. Amazing, Ludwig thought; the Yanks had pulled off the retreat across the river and had done so while still being pounded by the crushing might of German artillery.
As they passed through the American outer earthworks, Ludwig was dismayed to find many more German than American dead. They had succeeded but paid a heavy price. There were other problems as well.
“Ludwig,” Hans Schuler asked, bleeding from a cut on his arm, “what the hell is this shit?”
“Barbed wire.”
“Yes, but so much of it?”
“I know,” Ludwig grunted as he tried to finesse his way through a barricade made of coils of the stuff. “Be careful. This is really nasty shit.” How many other surprises did the Americans have in store for them?
Captain Walter ordered them to pause and dig in about fifty yards from the river. “What else can we do?” sneered Kessel when the captain left. “We can’t swim it.”
Ludwig thought the river looked shallow and could possibly be forded at some spots, but he held his tongue. He didn’t like the idea of crossing it either. It was much more satisfying to watch German artillery make the Yank fortifications bounce and lift into the air. They were less than half a mile away and it was an impressive show of sound, light, and fury.
After a while, the battered unit that had preceded them through the American earthworks was withdrawn. Ludwig realized with some discomfort that there was no one else between his 4th Rifles and the Yanks.
Captain Walter slid into the shallow trench beside him. “Got new orders, Ludwig. Go out there and tell the platoon leaders that we will be crossing the river in an hour.”
Ludwig was dismayed. “I thought we won the battle.”
“No, Ludwig, we only pushed them back to where they wanted to be in the first place. Now we have to move them to some other place where they don’t want to be. Then maybe we will be able to say we won.”
Ludwig looked at the river and the still-impressive American earthworks. “How will we cross, sir?”
“It has all been planned quite well. Typical German efficiency. Engineers will be along shortly to lay a pontoon bridge. We will cover them with heavy fire and then cross and establish a bridgehead. When we are strong enough over there, we will assault their main works. This, I’m afraid, will be a most difficult day.”
Ludwig swallowed what he wanted to say, and the captain moved away, leaving him to carry out his orders. As he did so, he saw men laying telephone and telegraph lines up to the river line. The captain was right about German efficiency. A particularly large explosion from the American side caught his eye. Something important had exploded. Good. Whatever his sympathies and future plans, his most significant efforts would be directed toward surviving this awful day. As he looked across again, he saw the thin lines that told him there was even more barbed wire to cross. Damned devils.
The war room in the chancellery was crowded with generals and staff aides when the kaiser strode in, with Holstein and Bulow in tow. Everyone rose. The kaiser acknowledged their deference and sat down in his special chair.
“Well, Field Marshal von Schlieffen, what can you tell us about the battle?”
Schlieffen drew his slight frame to an erect pose. “I can state with confidence that we have achieved great success.”
The kaiser exhaled noisily and sagged in relief. “Then we have destroyed them?”
“Not yet, sire, but that will happen shortly. Perhaps I should start at the beginning?”
The kaiser laughed softly. It surprised those who had not heard him laugh in some time. “Do that. Every time I asked for information earlier, I was told the battle was in progress. Good lord, I knew that!”
Schlieffen chuckled and others joined in. Being on the winning side was always a good feeling.
“Sire, at first light this morning, we commenced an enormous artillery barrage utilizing more than four hundred pieces that we had gathered for that purpose. They consisted of weapons from 90 to 160mm. A very impressive display of firepower was then utilized to batter a small section of their defenses west of the river while the units we’d advanced to the jump-off point awaited the order to attack. For your information, we moved them all last night. At approximately midmorning, the attack began. We used one division on a very narrow front corresponding roughly to the area of bombardment. That one division was backed by three others ranked directly behind it. There was little finesse involved. We simply overpowered the Americans at a specific point and swept through before they could react.”
“And where was that point?” Bulow inquired.