1635_ The Eastern Front - Eric Flint [117]
After a moment, Long chuckled. "I see. And myself?"
"I want you to get in touch with von Taupadel. I want him to forget about reaching the Poznań road and just go straight at whatever part of the city he'd closest to right now."
Long was back to frowning. "It'll take me some time to reach him, General. By the time I do—"
"Radio," Mike said. "Use. The. Radio."
He turned in his saddle and pointed back to his communications tent, which had been set up twenty yards away. Jimmy Andersen was standing outside the entrance flap, looking lonely and forlorn.
"Sergeant Andersen will operate it. He knows what he's doing. So goes Brigadier von Taupadel's radio operator, if he hasn't died of neglect and boredom yet."
Long stared at the tent much the way a man might stare at an ogre's lair.
"The, ah, radio, sir?"
"Use. The. Radio. Now."
Duerr went straight to the radio tent as soon as he got out of the woods. Oddly enough, given his age and acerbic temperament, Duerr was more at ease around electronic technology than most younger officers. Within five minutes, all three brigade commanders had gotten their orders.
A minute later, the artillery barrages began. Ten minutes later, even at a distance of half a mile, Mike could hear the sounds of infantry regiments advancing on the city.
"About fucking time," grumbled Jeff Higgins. He and two of his captains were crouched over a map inside a small bakery. They'd been trying to figure out if there was any route that might extricate them from what had essentially turned into a trap. Unfortunately, the map was in as bad a shape as the regiment was by now. Being fair to the regiment, Jeff was sure that map had been lousy even in its prime.
Within thirty seconds, the noise produced by the artillery barrage made it impossible to talk anyway. Jeff signaled the two captains to return to their units. All they could do now was wait.
After it was all over, Mike's aides estimated that about half of the Polish forces who'd been defending Zielona Góra had made their escape to the northeast. The failure to cut off the Poznań road had allowed for that.
But von Taupadel didn't make more than token noises of reproach. Except for the Hangman Regiment, the division's casualties had been light. Much lighter, he said, than was usual for an army taking a city as sizeable and as well-defended as this one had been.
"A good day's work, General," was his summary conclusion. "Very good day's work."
"I thought we'd need three days myself," said Derfflinger.
"So did I," chimed in Schuster.
The three brigadiers were giving Mike an odd sort of look. That expression stayed on their faces for the next half hour, too. After they left, he asked his aides if they'd noticed.
Duerr grinned. "They've decided you know what you're doing."
"Not exactly that," said Anthony Leebrick. "Meaning no disrespect, General Stearns, but you're not the subtlest military strategist the world has ever seen and your tactics are not what anyone would call complicated."
Long was grinning also. "You go here and hit them. You go over there and hit them too. Then both of you do it again."
All three officers laughed. Mike couldn't help but join in for a moment. It was true enough, after all.
When the laughter died out, Duerr shook his head. He wasn't smiling anymore.
"None of that really matters, General. Your brigadiers have come to the conclusion that the three of us came to some time ago. You are never indecisive and you are always willing to take the fight to the enemy. In war, that is what's most critical."
Long nodded. "Taking this city so quickly, coming on top of what you did after Świebodzin. They have confidence in you now, General. They may not agree with your decisions, certainly. Von Taupadel obviously thinks you moved too soon and should have let him take the Poznań road. But those sorts of things do not really matter, so long as they have confidence that their commander will command."
Mike was not a egotist, but he enjoyed compliments as much as any human being does. He wasn't able to savor