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The agreement between the Allies made at Yalta specified that the Elbe River would be the boundary between the Soviet sphere of influence and the Anglo-American-French lines. If the American troops crossed the Elbe, they were treaty-bound to withdraw back to it at a later date. Thus, any American casualties sustained in the effort would have been lives wasted. Regardless of how much generals like Patton and Montgomery wanted their armies to make it to Berlin ahead of the Reds, Ike had forbidden it.

Ike continued. “Once Monty’s across, we hope there will be other opportunities to cross; perhaps there’ll even be a collapse of the German forces on the Rhine. Be prepared to make the jump at the first opportunity. Once on the other side of the Rhine, can your men make an all-out effort to cut off the Germans?”

Devers winced. “You know we’ll do our damndest and then some. I’ve got nineteen divisions, which sounds like a lot, but all of them are understrength, filled with raw and inexperienced rookies, and just plain worn out. The army is scraping the bottom of the barrel.”

“So are the Germans,” Ike said. “We’re conscripting eighteen-year-olds, but they are drafting children who are much younger.”

“Understood, but it doesn’t change the fact that this isn’t the same army that invaded France last summer. The men are counting the days until the war ends and they can go home, and those who don’t have enough time in service to get discharged are scared to death at the thought of going to fight the Japs. Until the Bulge, everybody thought the war with Germany was over and nobody wanted to be the last man killed.”

“Can’t say as I blame them,” said Ike. “Everybody’s mad and disappointed that the Krauts have shown so much life.”

Devers continued. “And don’t forget that seven of my divisions are French and they are pretty much fighting their own war. De Gaulle has instituted some troop replacement policies that are just plain nuts and that’s left their units badly understrength and undertrained. That and the fact that General Tassigny takes his orders from De Gaulle and not from me is a royal pain. And don’t forget that General Leclerc and General Tassigny won’t even speak to each other, which is why Leclerc’s division is in the Seventh Army and not the French First Army. It’s a farce.”

“Understood,” said Ike grimly. The French had shown a propensity to squabble like children both among themselves and with their erstwhile allies.

Devers had never been Ike’s favorite general and he had been considering replacing him. But now he was having second thoughts. Maybe Devers’ apparent problems weren’t all his fault. Perhaps it was also due to a fractured and fractious command. De Gaulle had been a thorn in the American command’s side from the very first. Neither FDR nor Churchill could stand the man and accepted him as the leader of France only reluctantly. Paris had been liberated some months earlier and it was felt that De Gaulle no longer saw any need to expend effort and French lives in a war that was already won. France had regained control of Alsace and Lorraine, provinces claimed by France and lost in 1940, and that further dampened their enthusiasm for future operations or even basic cooperation.

Devers stood and pointed at a map of Europe on the wall. “Once across, I’m sure I can halt a lot of German traffic, but that still leaves the road from the south via Italy wide open. And then there’s nothing to stop the Krauts from coming up through Yugoslavia. The Reds aren’t there yet.”

Devers turned a worried look at Ike. “General, am I allowed to speak ill of our allies?”

Almost from the day he’d taken command, Ike had issued a fiat that no one could insult the British or the French. A few officers had made that mistake and paid for it with their careers.

Ike smiled. “If it’s just between us, yes. Of course, you could always call General Alexander a bad general who just happens to be British rather than a bad British general.”

British General Harold Alexander had recently been promoted to Field Marshal and made commander of all operations in the Mediterranean. Ike and others felt that Alexander had been kicked upstairs and out of the way.

Devers laughed. “Ike, I know that Mark Clark is now in charge of the Fifteenth Army Group and that’s got to be an improvement over Alexander. From what I can tell, it’s been a slow-motion chase for months. And yes, I know the Fifteenth has been climbing northward towards the Alps and I also know that we’ve stripped it of some of his best units, but Clark won’t be able to stop the Germans in Italy from getting to that redoubt. The British Eighth Army is run down and they don’t want to take any more casualties either. Clark’s armies are made up of units from many countries, including Brazil. It’ll take time for Clark to sort things out. I mean, does anybody really think the Brazilians can take on even a weakened Wehrmacht? Hell, we all know FDR’s big on this new United Nations thing, but Clark’s got Canadians, Poles, and South Africans in his army along with those damned Brazilians. I’d like to have the Poles and South Africans but you can keep the others. The Canadians are just as worn out as the British.”

Ike nodded and dug out another cigarette. Mamie had written him about his chain smoking. He thought he might do something about it after the war. Now it gave him comfort. Ike was confident that Mark Clark was an improvement over Alexander, but by how much was a question. The man had a tendency to act like a prima donna. He had liberated Rome on June 5, 1944, the day before the invasion of Normandy. Rumor had it that he felt that Ike had upstaged him. There was also the question of his liberating Rome in the first place. Clark’s advance had been controversial. By taking Rome instead of cutting across the width of Italy, he had permitted large numbers of Germans to escape to the north where they now confronted the Allies and could be heading for the Redoubt. Jesus, he thought. How many prima donnas could he have? First there was Montgomery, then De Gaulle, add Mark Clark and stir in a dash of George Patton.

Of course, he thought with a small degree of satisfaction, he didn’t have to deal with that ultimate prima donna, Douglas MacArthur. That legend in his own eyes was Roosevelt’s problem.

“Have you forgotten the soldiers from India and that regiment of Japanese from Hawaii and California?” Devers added with a smile. The Fifteenth Army Group was indeed a polyglot force.

“Intelligence says that the German and Italian units facing Clark are mere remnants,” said Ike. He was now regretting the decision to exclude Clark from this meeting. Ike’s staff had talked him out of making a dangerous flight over the Alps to Italy or having Clark make one instead.

“Even a beheaded and dying snake might have enough venom to kill a victim if given a chance,” answered Devers. “If the Germans in Italy decide to make a run for this redoubt area, I don’t see any way of stopping them. Once they get to some kind of sanctuary, they can rest and reorganize and be a real bear to push off of those mountains. Of course the weather continues to be miserable, which doesn’t help matters one damn bit. By the way, if Clark can’t use the 10th Mountain Division, I’d like to have it. Their skills will come in handy if we have to fight on those peaks.”

Ike nodded grimly. While Bradley and Devers would ultimately close the route from northern Germany to the Redoubt area, the door from the south was open and would likely remain that way. Maybe it wouldn’t be a huge German army that made it to the mountains, but it wouldn’t have to be to be an effective deterrent. Damn it to hell, he thought as he reached for another cigarette. Realistically also, there was no chance of stopping the Germans from moving to the Alps until the Rhine was crossed.

“You can have the Tenth,” Ike said. And, he thought, you have convinced me to give you a chance to either stop the Germans from making it to the Redoubt in large numbers, or taking it from those who do make it.

“Do I have the go-ahead to begin planning to cross the Rhine?”

Ike winced inwardly. It was a reminder that he’d shot down Devers’ earlier plan. “Just don’t plan too long. I want your men across as soon as feasible.”

Devers beamed. “Great, Ike. To get started I want to switch the Seventh Army’s location with the French First Army. I want Americans heading east along the Swiss border where they can cut off Germans from the north and east. I just don’t think the French are up to it and you can blame De Gaulle all you want.”

Ike laughed. Devers enthusiasm was contagious. Now all the man had to do was pull it off. “Jake, I plan on blaming Le Grand Charles for everything.”

* * *

Tanner tried not to limp too badly as he reported to Major General Richard Evans of the 105th Infantry Division. His knee had healed and his foot was getting better, but was a long ways from healthy. He wondered if he would ever be able to play touch football or pickup basketball. Hell, or even walk briskly. He had also picked up an intestinal bug that had cost him twenty pounds. This morning he’d noticed that there was a hint of premature grey in his hair. Damn. The last thing he needed was to look old before he was thirty. When he got home after the war, how would he ever find a woman if he looked older than he was? He had laughed at his reflection when he realized that first he had to survive the war in order to get home upright and not in a box.

Evans commanded the 105th Infantry Division. He was at his headquarters in a farmhouse ten miles west of the still uncrossed Rhine and north of the Swiss border.

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