Battlefield Taiwan

All’s Quiet on the Eastern Front

Master Sergeant Luke Childers lay in his bed, looking out his window. As the morning dragged on, the snow began to fall more steadily. It was beautiful watching the white “fluffy cotton balls of love,” as his mother used to call them, fall from the sky to blanket the ground below. Luke was grateful that his bed was placed next to the window; at least he had an excellent view of the wintery weather unfolding.

He eventually glanced over to his other side at the row of nine other beds with wounded soldiers in each of them. Some of the soldiers had what appeared to him to be minor injuries — a cast on a foot or an arm, or some minor bandages. Others were in much more serious condition, with obvious amputations or covered head-to-toe in dressings from second- or third-degree burn wounds.

An orderly entered their room with a wheelchair and headed towards Luke. It was time for his physical therapy session. While he hated these sessions, he knew if he wanted to get out of this hospital and back to his unit, he needed to try to push through the pain and regain his strength.

The man wheeled the chair right up to the edge of his bed and locked the wheels before coming around to the side of his bed. “You need me to help you up, Master Sergeant?” the orderly asked with a warm smile.

“No, I can get into the chair myself, Jim. I’ve been practicing the last couple of days while you’ve been gone,” Luke said with a smile and a wink.

He slowly lifted himself up and turned his legs towards the edge of the bed until they were just above the floor, then used the button on the side of the bed to lower it a bit until his feet were level with the floor. Then with a gentle lift of his arms, he was standing; albeit with a little bit of pain, but he was standing on his own. He took a few steps towards the chair and slowly lowered himself into it, wincing a little as he did.

“It looks like you’re starting to heal up nicely, Master Sergeant. The physical therapy must be working,” the orderly replied as he unlocked the wheels. He pushed Luke out of the room and down the hall to the elevator that would take them to the floor with the physical therapy rooms.

Jim had been working as an orderly for the hospital for the past two years, enjoying every minute of it. While stationed there at Ramstein Air Force Base, Jim had met a local woman, fallen in love and gotten married. When his enlistment had been up, he’d opted to stay in Germany and found a government civilian job at the hospital as an orderly. The rest was history.

The physical therapy room was busy, but Patricia, Luke’s therapist, was waiting for him.

“Hello, Luke,” she said with a bright smile and a twinkle in her eye. “How’s my favorite patient doing today?”

Luke felt his face flush a bit as her warm brown eyes sparkled at him with that gorgeous smile and bright white teeth, “God, she’s gorgeous,” he thought.

“I’m doing good, Patricia. You going to work me hard today?” he joked.

“You know it, soldier boy,” she said with a devilish grin on her face, which warmed his spirits.

Jim locked the wheels to Luke’s wheelchair and watched in amazement as Luke slowly stood up, then proceeded to take a couple of steps towards the physical therapist. With his work done, Jim left to go get the next patient.

“This is the best part of my job, seeing these wounded soldiers recover,” he thought as he whistled a soft cheerful tune.

Patricia worked strenuously with Luke’s right leg, lower back and left arm for the next two hours. She ran him through a number of different exercises before turning him over to the next therapist, who would guide him through a series of water exercises before he had massage therapy.

Master Sergeant Childers was lucky. The shrapnel he had taken in his lower back, leg, and arm had not caused any serious long-term problems. It hadn’t severed any tendons or nerves, and just needed time and physical therapy to heal up. The doctors had told him he would probably be ready to go back to his unit around Christmas or maybe just after the New Year, which was fine by Luke. He hated being separated from his soldiers and the rest of his unit. They had been through so much since the start of the war, and he wanted to hang on to those friendships he had left.

Following an afternoon of physical therapy, Luke was wheeled back to his bed in the room with the other wounded soldiers. As he entered the room, he saw the first lieutenant who had woken up screaming a couple of times last night. He looked rather sedated. At the foot of the lieutenant’s bed, he saw the officer’s name was Joe Dukes and he apparently hailed from some armor unit.

When he had asked the nurse about him earlier that morning, she’d lowered her voice and said, “He and two other soldiers were the only ones who survived from his battalion. He’s taking it hard. To make matters worse, the poor guy lost a brother and his mother, who were visiting San Francisco when it was destroyed by the North Koreans.”

The staff was really not supposed to share information on the other soldiers, but it had become somewhat commonplace in these large recovery units to give at least basic information about the people the soldiers were sharing a room with. As Luke rolled past him on the way back to his bed, he could tell that physically, Dukes was nearly healed up, but mentally, the poor guy was a mess.

“I should try to talk with him after dinner, see if there’s anything I can do to help him,” Luke thought.

Childers, who always had his ear to the ground, had heard one of the doctors say that Dukes had been awarded the Distinguished Service Cross, but it had been officially upgraded to the Congressional Medal of Honor. It was a big distinction, and clearly, this poor guy had been through the wringer to have been awarded such a medal. A week after arriving at the hospital, Luke had been awarded his third Purple Heart and second Silver Star and had also been put in for the Distinguished Service Cross for his actions in the Kiev breakout. While he felt honored to be awarded these medals, he knew there were others who had done more than him and also deserved to be recognized.

After settling back into his bed, Luke saw one of the orderlies had left him yesterday’s copy of the Wall Street Journal. He picked it up, skimming through the headlines and trying to decide if he even wanted to read it. Drafting of New Army Continues… War in Europe on Hold Until Spring… Battle for Taiwan Enters Second Week — Fighting Said to be Fierce… Allied Forces Stop Chinese Offensive in Korea… US Secures North Korean Capital Despite Chinese Counterattack.

“I think I’ll skip the paper today,” Luke thought as he placed it on the nightstand between him and the soldier in the bed next to him. He reached over and began to read a new book that had been brought to him by one of the hospital volunteers.

As he finished the third chapter, he looked up at a familiar face who had entered his room and begun walking towards him — Lieutenant Jack Taylor, who was now sporting captain’s bars. Luke placed his book down and smiled at Captain Taylor as he approached.

“I see congratulations are in order, my friend. How are you doing, Sir?” Luke said as he held out his hand to shake Jack’s.

“I’m doing good. I should be the one asking how you are doing. You’re the one still stuck here in the hospital,” Captain Taylor responded as he stood next to Luke’s bed.

“I’m doing OK. Getting better, slow and steady. They say I should be able to return to the unit around Christmas or New Year’s at the latest. How are the other guys in the unit doing?” he asked now out of concern for the soldiers in his unit with whom he had not had a lot of contact since their breakout of Kiev.

Jack looked down at his battered platoon sergeant for a second before responding. He had to admit, Sergeant Childers was looking a lot better now than he had when they’d first left Kiev. He hadn’t been sure he was going to make it for a while. “Three of the wounded guys have been flown back to the States, where they’ll recover and probably be discharged from the military. Two of our other guys are still here with you, as you know, though they should be discharged within the next week or two and will return back to the unit.”

He paused for a second before continuing. “You probably haven’t heard yet, but the 2^nd Calvary Regiment is being reorganized with Fifth Corps now, so we’ve been effectively taken off the line for the time being. It’s probably best, since we were down to less than 40 % strength. The colonel has our regiment focusing on resting and recovering and writing out as detailed of an account as we can of our various engagements. They want us to break down what went right and wrong with each engagement, so we can develop some training scenarios around them. It’s a good idea, and it’s taken our minds off the losses we’ve sustained. We’re also getting a ton of new raw recruits fresh from basic training, so we’re working hard at getting them as ready for combat as we can,” Taylor explained.

Childers had been desperate for information from outside his four walls; Taylor’s visit was just what he’d needed.

“Does it look like there will be any fighting in the near future?” Luke asked, not sure if he wanted to be a part of it or miss out on it entirely.

Captain Taylor smiled. “From what we’ve been told, there won’t be any new offensives until sometime in the spring. They want to build up our forces and then go for the jugular when the time is right. Besides, the situation is still very tense with China, and the Pacific is taking a lot of resources away from Europe.”

Looking up at Captain Taylor, Luke asked, “Where does the colonel want me when I’m able to return to duty?”

Taylor thought about how to respond before he answered, “I was hoping you’d be assigned back to work with me, but I’m not sure if that’s going to happen. We’ve lost a lot of officers and NCOs. I heard a rumor you may either get promoted to command sergeant major and be assigned to one of the battalions or end up being promoted to officer.” He wasn’t sure if this was what his friend wanted to hear or not.

Luke sighed and then nodded. “I guess I’ll see when I report back. As long as I can continue to lead soldiers, I’ll be content wherever they place me,” he responded, although he felt a bit uncertain about the future now. The two of them talked for a little while longer before Captain Taylor said he needed to get going, but he promised to visit again in a couple of weeks.

A couple of days later, Luke worked up the nerve to go talk to Lieutenant Dukes, the tanker who was having a hard time mentally with all that had transpired. He wanted to offer up a few words of encouragement to the guy. It was clear JD (as Childers learned he was usually called) had been an NCO before he had been an officer; he was too old to be a fresh lieutenant. Childers hoped their shared bond as sergeants might help him break through whatever was haunting him.

Luke sat down at JD’s table. “I’m Master Sergeant Luke Childers,” he said as he extended his hand.

JD paused and then looked up at Childers. He took a moment to focus on who had just introduced himself and looked at Luke’s extended hand before shaking it.

“I heard you are being awarded the Medal of Honor for your actions in Kiev,” Childers said.

JD looked up at him with sad eyes. “Not like it did a lot of difference. Thousands of soldiers were still trapped in that god-awful city, and nearly everyone in my battalion was killed,” he replied, clearly trying to gain control of his emotions.

Luke paused for a moment before responding. “JD, I know it’s hard losing a lot of the friends you had in your battalion, but it wasn’t you who killed them. That was the Russians. I was one of those soldiers trapped in the Kiev pocket with the 2^nd Cav. We broke out with a lot of help from tankers from your battalion who were still trapped with us and a lot of help from a German tank unit. Those guys from your unit that were trapped in Kiev, they helped us break out of the city and saved thousands of other soldiers.” He spoke with genuine gratitude.

JD took a deep breath. He had never heard about how some of his trapped comrades had helped the soldiers stuck in Kiev. It was somehow a relief to him that they had been able to assist in the escape, even if most of them had been killed in the process.

Luke added, “It stings losing soldiers under your command, JD, but your soldiers died doing their job, a job they volunteered to do and a job they were proud of. You can’t let their loss eat you up. Save that anger for the enemy.”

“What do you suppose they’ll do with me once they give me this medal? I’ve heard they don’t let you go back into combat if you have ‘the’ medal,” JD said. “All I’ve known is tanks and leading soldiers. I’m not sure I could stand being cooped up in an office.”

Luke thought about that for a moment before responding, “I’m not 100 % sure what they’ll do with you. I think they will probably want to integrate your experience into the armor school or maybe they will send you out on the road to do some public speaking events. If I were you, I’d try to get a position at the armor school and pass on as much of my knowledge to the new tankers as possible. This war isn’t going to be over soon. It’s going to drag on a while, and the President says the US is going to build a massive army to defeat the Russians and Chinese.”

Luke hoped their conversation would give JD some optimism and guidance for his future. He hated seeing soldiers suffer like this from a combat loss. Luke had spent nearly his entire career in Special Forces and the infantry, and he had known more than his fair share of losses over the years. It had taken him a lot of time and hurt to work through his own issues, but he had put those demons to rest and did his best to help other soldiers around him who were going through the same thing.

JD thought about the instructor job, then smiled for perhaps the first time since he had arrived at the hospital. “I think I would like to work at the armor school. It would still keep me in the tank world I know and give me a chance to work with soldiers. Thank you for telling me about that — I’m going to put in a request for that assignment, and I’m sure they’ll give it to me. You’ve given me a lot to think about. If you’ll excuse me, I have an appointment with one of the docs. Maybe we can talk more later if you want?” JD said as he got up.

Luke smiled warmly. “I’d like that very much. Stay strong and I’ll see you later.”

“Here they come!” came an excited voice over the radio. Seconds later, a dozen 155mm artillery rounds impacted along a mock convoy the engineers had set up in the impact zone.

“Excellent shot,” replied Oberstleutnant Hermann Wulf. “Now let’s see how well the battalion does at engaging the enemy,” he said over the battalion net.

A minute later, dozens of Puma infantry fighting vehicles fired their 25mm chain guns at the enemy vehicles, scoring dozens of hits across their armored hulls. Some of the tracer rounds could be seen bouncing off the ground from nearby misses, while other rounds punched holes right through the vehicles, thudding into the ground behind them.

Hermann grinned with satisfaction. His troopers were finally becoming proficient with their vehicles’ main guns and calling in supporting artillery. In the coming months, it was going to be imperative that they know how to function as a combined-arms unit. From everything the Americans and German units had been passing along to them, they would be having a tough go of it with the T-14 tanks and the T-15 infantry fighting vehicles. He had two more months to get his unit prepared to deploy. His battalion, the 35^th Mechanized Infantry Battalion, would be deploying to Belarus to help shore up the Polish and American forces facing down two Russian army groups.

Lieutenant Colonel Nikolay Tarnavskiy looked around the commander’s side of the turret in the new German Leopard 2A6 main battle tanks his brigade was being given. He marveled at the fire control system, the internal safety features to protect the crew, and the raw power this tank projected.

“I’m glad I never had to face off against a tank like this. I’m not sure I would have survived,” he thought as he pulled himself up and out of the turret.

He picked his still-lit cigarette off the top of the turret, placing it back in his mouth. Tarnavskiy took a long drag and filled his lungs before looking at his executive officer. “These tanks will do,” he said with a grin on his face.

The XO laughed for a second. “These tanks are better than what the Americans were going to give us. You have to love German engineering — they really know how to make tanks,” he replied.

Jumping down to join his XO, Tarnavskiy said, “When we receive the entire battalion’s worth of tanks next week, I want the men to spend as much time as possible learning from our German instructors as possible. They need to become experts in these tanks if we are to take our country back. I want them trained hard — is that understood?”

His XO nodded. “It will be taken care of. We will not let you or our country down.”

Prior to the war, the 17^th Ukrainian Tank Brigade was going to be outfitted with surplus American M1A1 battle tanks. Once hostilities between NATO and Russia had started, the Americans had begun to activate its surplus equipment, and the job of outfitting the new Ukrainian Army had suddenly fallen into the Germans’ lap. Germany saw this as a great opportunity to be the official military supplier of Ukraine. From an economic standpoint, this was a boon because once the Ukrainian army committed to using German military equipment, they would most likely stay with it for the next twenty or thirty years. Once the German manufacturing went into full military production, supplying Ukraine along with their own forces wouldn’t be too difficult of a challenge.