Monsters of the Week

Zone Rouge

(originally published as "In The Coffin Wood")

Bernd took the headphones off and laid them by the radio console, then flipped the apparatus off; they'd last come under fire several hours ago, but the Americans seemed to have an uncanny ability to find and bombard anyone on an open frequency. At this point, though, a bombardment might be a welcome alternative. He had to tell his commander what they'd walked into. "Herr Captain, I have some good news, some bad news, and some extremely bad news."

"Well, if there is extremely bad news, let's have the good news first; it'll be the first good news we've had since we left Calais."

"The good news is that we have lost contact with the enemy. The bad news is that we are definitely cut off; they have taken Verdun and there is the major part of an American panzer army between us and Metz. The extremely bad news is that we've lost contact with the enemy because we are now within what the French call their "red zone" – the battlefields of the last war that are still too dangerous to be entered." Bernd flapped out his map and pointed at a section, an ugly red scar of cross-hatching on the land. "In this district there are three villages so destroyed that the French decided they had died for the country rather than trying to rebuild them. Under our feet, there may be a hundred, two hundred shells per hundred meters square, and that's not even counting the poison gas. Sir, what are your orders?"

Captain Emsbach looked over his command: ragged, hollow-eyed, hungry, lame, and under-strength they might be, but they didn't look like they were about to give up. To the south, the Americans had taken Verdun and the only usable road junction, thanks to the last war; in the north, even before the fighting today, there were disturbing rumors that the British and Canadians were trying to break out of Antwerp and push the front back through Belgium to the German border. Nearly fifty effectives and three Hanomag armored half-tracks, one of which still had a working radio: it was a fart in the breeze compared to the American army that had smashed what was left of 6 Company away from 29 Panzergrenadier Regiment, but any of them who could make it back to Metz would be better than nothing. He took a second look at the map and gathered the men around.

"We are faced with a very dangerous situation in a very dangerous area. The Americans have taken Verdun and will likely try to expand out into the countryside to feel out our forces as soon as they have their logistics settled. They are between us and Metz by any useful roads in this area. To the north, the front is in flux; if we were to go that way, we might run into the British before we reached any of our own units, and get cut off again. However, there is a way by which we might be able to reach Metz, rejoin the rest of the regiment, and continue to defend the Fatherland." He paused for a moment and took the map from Bernd.

"In this belt north of Verdun, the American army will not go. This area was destroyed in the last war and is considered not safe for civilians to enter. If we run through it from west to east – I believe we are about here – and do it quickly, we will be able to cross the river Mass north of Verdun unobserved, and get around their eastern pickets to reach the Mosel and our lines by Metz."

"Sir, that's suicide!" This was Föhn; he'd never been one to know when to keep his mouth shut.

"Very well, Private Föhn; if you believe following your commander is equivalent to committing suicide, the road is open behind you. You can take your chances and try to find an American patrol, but for me, I would rather face leftover shells and gas than French partisans out to purge collaborators. If you want to desert, desert; I'm not going to start shooting and give away the position, but be warned: we will return to the army, and anyone who deserts will be reported." Föhn clammed up and adjusted his helmet.