1901

Gordon continued. “He got shot in both the arm and the leg. The leg wound seems fairly simple, but his arm is all ripped up. We just stuffed a rag into the leg hole, but we had to use a tourniquet on the arm to stop the bleeding. There were bones sticking out too. Thank God he was unconscious most of the time. I just hope he hasn’t lost too much blood. Tourniquet or not, he just wouldn’t stop bleeding. The doctors have him now and are operating on him. They say it might be hours before they know whether he will make it.”

Patrick forced himself to think beyond Heinz. “How many others?”

“One of the 10th dead, and two wounded. The wounded were able to walk back under their own power.”

One dead and three wounded out of a patrol that normally consisted of ten men and had been augmented to twelve by the addition of Heinz and Ian. Not good numbers. “Okay, what happened?”

Bad luck, Ian explained, just poor, dumb, bad luck. It had been organized as a two-day, two-night patrol by the 10th Cavalry, entirely on foot. They’d made it to within sight of the German defenses in one day and settled in to observe. They spent that night and the next day in safety, but discomfort. “Damn mosquitoes were bigger than some birds we have in England. It rained, of course. It was impossible to brew tea.”

They were on their way back the second night when they’d blundered into a German patrol. “One minute we were moving along in the dark, trying not to step on each other, and the next we were clawing and stabbing at shapes in the night. It was so sudden, so awful.”

Ian added that there had been little time for gunplay, and few shots had been fired. The accident of fate had brought both patrols within arm’s length of each other before bullets could be chambered and safeties removed. For what seemed an eternity, they fought with hands, clubbed with rifles, and stabbed with hunting knives. Finally the Germans fled, leaving several dead comrades. As they distanced themselves from the Americans, a few got their weapons ready and fired. It was then that Heinz had been hit.

“If it’s any consolation, we killed three of the bastards, and others must be wounded. We almost got a prisoner, but he slipped away in the confusion. I guess we had too much on our minds to keep proper track of him.”

Patrick sighed. No, it was not really much consolation, although it would have been interesting to have a fresh prisoner. “Well, at least you saw the German lines. What are your thoughts?”

“Of Byzantium.” He smiled slightly at Patrick’s puzzlement. “Surely you remember Byzantium and its fabled triple walls. Didn’t you get to Istanbul during your European trip?”

“No, Ian, I managed to miss Istanbul. But I do understand your analogy.” Byzantium had been the capital of the Eastern Roman Empire for about a thousand years until its fall in 1453. During that long time, its triple walls were the stuff of fable and legend. Huge and high, incredible works of man, they encompassed the city and protected it from barbarian invaders, many of whom could only stand in awe at the massive constructions. It was not until the advent of gunpowder and the siege guns brought by the attacking Turks that the walls were finally breached and the city was conquered. The result was the end of the Eastern Roman Empire and the city of Byzantium. After a period of looting, it was renamed Istanbul. The walls, even in ruin, are impressive to this day. If Ian was comparing the German fortifications to Byzantium, then he had truly been impressed. “Are they that good, Ian?”

“Yes, I’m afraid they are. They have spent a huge amount of effort building fortifications that run solidly from the Sound to the boggy ground about twenty miles north. Unless you have some secret advantage like the Turkish artillery, the American army I’ve seen will not be able to penetrate them. Sorry.”

Patrick shrugged. “I’m not too surprised. The near miss at Danbury must have put the fear of God into them.”

“So why haven’t you built as sturdily as well? The American lines are nothing in comparison with theirs-just some trenches and some barbed wire.”

“Good point. The fact of the matter is we don’t want them to fear our forts so much that they won’t come out. You’re right, we can’t take them. Their forts are not really impregnable-nothing ever is-but the price we’d pay to take them would be just too horrible. The Germans must come out of their defenses and fight us. MacArthur’s plan is to tempt them with several lines of defenses, but not any one as formidable as theirs. He hopes to entice them to come out. Then, pray God, we can defeat them, no matter how good they are.”

Patrick stood. “If you can, stay here and let me know about Heinz. I’d like to stay, but there is the rest of the brigade to take care of.”

Ian nodded sadly. “I know. There’s a war on.”