Deep in the jungle's heart, in a quiet, secluded clearing, a cluster of canvas tents formed a makeshift camp. Barbed wire encircled the perimeter, its strands strung with empty tin cans that clinked at the slightest movement—an improvised alarm system. Yet anyone watching closely would notice that German soldiers passed through on fixed routes, never straying. Clearly, traps or landmines lay hidden just beyond sight. If you look closely, you'll notice that on a large tree at the edge of the base—with a trunk as thick as a man's waist—stands a German soldier, concealed among the dense branches,and his G42's dark barrel sweeping the ground below. Any intruder daring to approach would be shot without hesitation.
Key vantage points around the encampment—small knolls and ridges—were manned by troops in the distinctive dark-gray German field uniforms. On two of these peaks, G42 machine guns were trained to cover the approaches, creating overlapping fields of fire with the machine gunner in the tree above. Behind the tents, a PaK 38 50 mm anti-tank gun sat ready, its barrel aimed squarely at the camp's main entrance. Nearby, four waist-deep pits held hidden GrW 34 80 mm mortars, prepared to lob shells at any assaulting force.
Not far away, Job and Crane, our two snipers, lay concealed in the tall grass, their eyes fixed on the enemy stronghold.
"Looks like we've stumbled onto a German base," Crane whispered, excitement flickering in his eyes as he watched soldiers stream in and out.
I nodded, but my face tightened. "Heads down!"
Moments before, a German officer had emerged from one of the tents, binoculars in hand, scanning the clearing. Fearing detection, I hurriedly warned Crane.
"What now? Call in artillery to shell the place?" Crane asked quietly, making sure the Germans couldn't see him.
"Not quite," Job replied, scanning the enemy positions. "This appears to be a temporary command post. Their defenses are minimal—if they sense immediate danger, they'll pull out at once."
"Sergeant, how do you know this is only temporary?" Crane sounded skeptical.
I lowered my voice. "You've never faced Germans in combat. They're not as weak as some fools claim. Have you studied Rommel's Fifteen Tactical Maxims?"
"I have," Crane said, nodding. "My instructor drilled them into us during training."
"Good," Job said. "The Germans apply those maxims brilliantly—far better than many European armies, ourselves included. If they weren't so stretched thin, we'd never be able to chase them down. Their lines are far too long."
Crane nodded again, his eyes returning to the camp.
Erwin Johannes Eugen Rommel—the "Desert Fox"—had earned his reputation in North Africa, defeating British forces with fewer men. His Fifteen Tactical Maxims became legendary: even after the war, armies worldwide continued studying them. Rommel was undeniably a tactical genius; the only tragedy was that his genius served Germany.
Rommel's maxims read:
Attack, attack, and keep attacking.
Regardless of weapon caliber or numbers, always use firepower to support infantry assaults.
An outmatched force can overwhelm a larger enemy by deploying weapons in multiple locations or by concentrating fire rapidly.
Whether attacking or defending, position weapons as far forward as possible.
Whoever opens fire first and concentrates firepower will win.
Use deception whenever possible.
In every assault, exploit psychological factors—create panic within enemy ranks.
All arms must coordinate simply yet thoroughly during combined-arms attacks.
Use smoke screens whenever possible to conceal daytime movements.
Whenever troops rest, conduct reconnaissance.
During both offense and defense, always deploy a security element.
Troops must learn to move silently.
If a unit stays in one place longer than briefly, fortify the position.
Stronger firepower and deeper fortifications yield fewer casualties.
Unit commanders must act with initiative, decisiveness, and boldness.
Thanks to these principles, German officers and soldiers had become exceptionally skilled. Any misstep on my part could be exploited, leading to disastrous losses. Yet , facing such a formidable foe was, win or lose, a challenge worth embracing.
Now that Job had located their temporary command post, my mind raced as I studied the tactical map. I mulled over Clécy's frontlines, then turned to Brooks.
"Get Colonel Herbert on the line," I ordered.
"Sir, my scouts have discovered a German command post about three kilometers ahead," Soon I reported over the field phone.
"What? A command post that close?" Colonel Herbert sounded astonished.
"Yes, sir. Although they've hidden it in dense foliage, it's still uncomfortably near our lines. It strikes me as odd—no reason to establish a command post this far forward unless they're planning a large-scale engagement, or some bigger plot…"
Colonel Herbert paused, absorbing my assessment. "Captain Carter, you're right. If the Germans were planning guerrilla attacks, they wouldn't place their command center so close. What's your plan?"
"Sir, I recommend Captain Turner halt his advance and hold position about a kilometer behind my line. He and the howitzer company will serve as blocking and reserve forces. I'll lead my own unit forward as bait to draw the Germans into the open. And, sir, I request that Captain Turner detach a reinforced platoon to bolster my troops."
My proposal was a precaution: if Turner and I advanced simultaneously, our search area would widen, but our forces would be dangerously spread out. Should the Germans concentrate on one column, our exposed men—without fortifications—could be overrun. This wasn't a static line; we couldn't rely on trenches in the jungle. And with the Ardennes campaign looming, I worried deeply—this jungle was just a taste of the vast forests to come.
"You might walk into a trap," Herbert warned. "But I'll authorize it."
"I understand, sir. Only if the Germans believe they can annihilate me quickly will they commit their main force. Then we can move in and eliminate the remaining Germans around Clécy."
"Proceed, Captain."
Soon after, Turner's men received Colonel Herbert's orders. They shifted to a defensive stance—digging in, establishing strongpoints. A sixty-man reinforced platoon joined my company, bringing us to roughly 260 troops—essentially a strengthened weapons company.
My plan was straightforward: whatever the Germans intended, we would adapt. Their advantage lay in terrain—without the jungle's cover, they wouldn't dare engage us head-on. Not because they feared us, but because they couldn't sustain a protracted fight of attrition. For security, we deployed as planned: Joanner led scouts and combat engineers up front to clear a path; Winters formed our main assault line facing the jungle; two armored cars and our mortar section trailed behind, ready to provide fire support. Donovan commanded the flanking force on our flank, ensuring no unit became isolated. Each time we seized a critical position, I ordered it fortified before advancing. With this tight formation, I believed the Germans would reveal themselves. Besides, we had ample artillery—if we encountered even a single German patrol, we'd rain fire upon them. Minimizing our casualties was priority one.
Yet despite all my planning, the Germans didn't respond as expected. Apart from sporadic harassment, they steadily withdrew. Even the temporary command post that Job discovered was abandoned. Although Turner and I maintained a safe distance, a sudden unease gnawed at me.
"Hold position! Stand to!"
"Hold position! Stand to!" The command passed quickly through platoons and squads. Soldiers scanned the dense foliage with growing tension.
"How far are we from Captain Turner's location?" I asked.
"Sir, two kilometers as the crow flies," Gibbs replied promptly.
"Two kilometers? So our columns are effectively five kilometers apart."
"Yes, sir."
"Too dangerous. Too dangerous." I paced, then turned to Brooks. "Request Captain Turner to close up on our position—immediately!"
I checked my watch: it was already noon. From our morning departure until now, the sniper ambush had been the most hazardous moment. Apart from minor German patrols, we hadn't faced any major enemy action. My men still had energy, but they needed food to sustain themselves.
The sky hung low and heavy. And in that thick, stifling air, I could feel hateful eyes—lurking deep in the forest—silently locking onto me from the shadows.