Part 55, Chapter 754
Chapter Seven Hundred Fifty-Four
22nd September 1949
Kimberly, South Africa
At long last the 140th had a definite date of departure from South Africa. The 8th Panzer Infantry Brigade was to prepare for movement on the 1st of October 1949 having been relieved by elements of the 5th Army Corps. No one was in the mood to celebrate just yet. They knew the cautionary stories about those who were stupid enough to think they were home free when the enemy hadn’t gotten the message yet. Surviving months of getting shot at, only to become a punchline at the end.
The other thing was that Jost and Soren were not in a mood tonight to brave the horrors of the Enlisted Mess Tent. The British Army had been supplying the food to the Heer in South Africa and many were starting to wonder if it was a backhanded way of getting revenge for the Battle of the Somme. Instead the Senior Enlisted had arranged something special because of their departure from Africa. Someone had a connection with the local tribes who had given them steaks and beer in appreciation of their kicking the snot out of the Boers, provided that no one said a word about who had given it to them.
“Word is that everyone’s kit is going to be searched for uncut diamonds” One of the Stabers said as Jost sat down in his chair. He had a plate with a fire roasted steak and beans that smelled like heaven and that mention of the coming week’s business was a sour note. “There’s also talk that a deal has been reached with the Belgian Government that anyone from the Heer, or directly connected to anyone from the Herr, attempting to sell loose diamonds in Antwerp is going to get thrown in the clink.”
There had been several of the men who had thought that they’d made their fortune by getting deployed to Kimberly with the mines located just a few kilometers from their bivouac. It seemed that the Brass were on to them and the items they were planning on smuggling back home were going to be worthless in the stockade. Jost figured that the gravel lining the latrine was going to become very interesting in the coming days.
“This is better than what we’ve been eating” Soren said, changing the subject to a safer topic.
“British food” Someone said with the disgust evident in their voice.
“It could be worse” Jost said, “My little brother, Tilo said that entire time he was in Vietnam and Southern China his outfit got fed fish and rice. His entire Division would have cheerfully committed murder for a loaf of bread.”
“Wasn’t he the one who pulled you off the top of an SPz in Korea?” Soren asked, “When you threw a bottle at him.”
That caused a round of laughter around the table, which caused Jost to glower at everyone.
“I wasn’t the one who threw the bottle” Jost said, “And I should have known that Tilo would have needed to have become more than the little snot rag he was in before if he survived where they sent him.”
That caused everyone to go quiet. There wasn’t a man here who’d not had the pleasure of having their introduction to adulthood being a hard process in Spain or the Russian front.
“At least we’re going home now” Soren said.
“And the game Divisional musical chairs will start” Jost replied.
That was a dangerous topic. Beyond the usual rounds of transfers, promotions and replacements, as soon as they returned Wunsdorf someone, or more likely someone’s wife, would have had enough of this life and the decision would be made to do something else with their lives. All up and down the food chain would come the mad scramble for position. For those near the top, lack of advancement could mean that they would be looking for a new job in the coming days. Jost and Soren had spent this campaign working with Hans in Regimental Intelligence, something that was no safer than guarding the convoys or watching for enemy snipers. It did however look good in their files that they had volunteered for it.
Washington D.C.
“Vienna?” Nancy asked, “What’s there?” Nancy had spoken before she had a chance to think. Which was never a good thing.
“Your assignment” Her supervisor said, he clearly wasn’t happy about Nancy’s reaction.
What Nancy knew about Austria was that it was what she had heard from people who’d been there. The proudly independent Duchy was something of a backwater and Vienna itself was considered something of a tourist trap. It was also the last remnant of the Habsburg Empire that had once dominated Eastern Europe. Maria Acker had told Nancy that it was like a middle-aged man sitting in a bar demanding respect for achievements on the athletic field decades earlier. Now, Nancy was going there.
“Now Miss Jensen, if you can avoid giving me attitude” Her supervisor said, “You’ve a great deal of material to go over and not a whole lot of time in which to do it.”
That was how Nancy ended up buried under reams of paper. Print-outs of excruciatingly boring reports detailing every aspect of the nation of Austria. Her impression was that this wasn’t exactly necessary but because her mouth had run away from her it had been what she tasked with. This was what was in Austria.
22nd September 1949
Kimberly, South Africa
At long last the 140th had a definite date of departure from South Africa. The 8th Panzer Infantry Brigade was to prepare for movement on the 1st of October 1949 having been relieved by elements of the 5th Army Corps. No one was in the mood to celebrate just yet. They knew the cautionary stories about those who were stupid enough to think they were home free when the enemy hadn’t gotten the message yet. Surviving months of getting shot at, only to become a punchline at the end.
The other thing was that Jost and Soren were not in a mood tonight to brave the horrors of the Enlisted Mess Tent. The British Army had been supplying the food to the Heer in South Africa and many were starting to wonder if it was a backhanded way of getting revenge for the Battle of the Somme. Instead the Senior Enlisted had arranged something special because of their departure from Africa. Someone had a connection with the local tribes who had given them steaks and beer in appreciation of their kicking the snot out of the Boers, provided that no one said a word about who had given it to them.
“Word is that everyone’s kit is going to be searched for uncut diamonds” One of the Stabers said as Jost sat down in his chair. He had a plate with a fire roasted steak and beans that smelled like heaven and that mention of the coming week’s business was a sour note. “There’s also talk that a deal has been reached with the Belgian Government that anyone from the Heer, or directly connected to anyone from the Herr, attempting to sell loose diamonds in Antwerp is going to get thrown in the clink.”
There had been several of the men who had thought that they’d made their fortune by getting deployed to Kimberly with the mines located just a few kilometers from their bivouac. It seemed that the Brass were on to them and the items they were planning on smuggling back home were going to be worthless in the stockade. Jost figured that the gravel lining the latrine was going to become very interesting in the coming days.
“This is better than what we’ve been eating” Soren said, changing the subject to a safer topic.
“British food” Someone said with the disgust evident in their voice.
“It could be worse” Jost said, “My little brother, Tilo said that entire time he was in Vietnam and Southern China his outfit got fed fish and rice. His entire Division would have cheerfully committed murder for a loaf of bread.”
“Wasn’t he the one who pulled you off the top of an SPz in Korea?” Soren asked, “When you threw a bottle at him.”
That caused a round of laughter around the table, which caused Jost to glower at everyone.
“I wasn’t the one who threw the bottle” Jost said, “And I should have known that Tilo would have needed to have become more than the little snot rag he was in before if he survived where they sent him.”
That caused everyone to go quiet. There wasn’t a man here who’d not had the pleasure of having their introduction to adulthood being a hard process in Spain or the Russian front.
“At least we’re going home now” Soren said.
“And the game Divisional musical chairs will start” Jost replied.
That was a dangerous topic. Beyond the usual rounds of transfers, promotions and replacements, as soon as they returned Wunsdorf someone, or more likely someone’s wife, would have had enough of this life and the decision would be made to do something else with their lives. All up and down the food chain would come the mad scramble for position. For those near the top, lack of advancement could mean that they would be looking for a new job in the coming days. Jost and Soren had spent this campaign working with Hans in Regimental Intelligence, something that was no safer than guarding the convoys or watching for enemy snipers. It did however look good in their files that they had volunteered for it.
Washington D.C.
“Vienna?” Nancy asked, “What’s there?” Nancy had spoken before she had a chance to think. Which was never a good thing.
“Your assignment” Her supervisor said, he clearly wasn’t happy about Nancy’s reaction.
What Nancy knew about Austria was that it was what she had heard from people who’d been there. The proudly independent Duchy was something of a backwater and Vienna itself was considered something of a tourist trap. It was also the last remnant of the Habsburg Empire that had once dominated Eastern Europe. Maria Acker had told Nancy that it was like a middle-aged man sitting in a bar demanding respect for achievements on the athletic field decades earlier. Now, Nancy was going there.
“Now Miss Jensen, if you can avoid giving me attitude” Her supervisor said, “You’ve a great deal of material to go over and not a whole lot of time in which to do it.”
That was how Nancy ended up buried under reams of paper. Print-outs of excruciatingly boring reports detailing every aspect of the nation of Austria. Her impression was that this wasn’t exactly necessary but because her mouth had run away from her it had been what she tasked with. This was what was in Austria.
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