THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Wednesday, November 1, 1995 TAG: 9510310115
SECTION: VIRGINIA BEACH BEACON PAGE: 10 EDITION: FINAL
TYPE: Cover Story
SOURCE: BY NANCY LEWIS, CORRESPONDENT
LENGTH: Long : 153 lines
``BY THE ROAD - they're by the road,'' warns a breathless voice from behind a nearby tree.
``They're all over the . . . place,'' hisses another in a loud, throaty whisper.
We crouch motionless in the cover of fallen leaves fearful that the enemy has each of us lined up in the cross hairs of their rifle sights. Though only a game, the terror of war begins to come home to those playing out a mock World War II skirmish.
Nothing on this battlefield gives clue that we are spending the final weekend of October 1995 at the Army's Fort Eustis base in Newport News. In this historical fiction it is October 1944 and this could be anywhere on the European Theater's western front in France.
In the guise of a ``berichter,'' or German war correspondent, I have been granted amnesty by the organizers of this re-enactment to accompany this American squad on its foray into enemy territory.
I am jotting this account with the stub of my one remaining pencil. The pages of my notebook are parchment-like from the dampness.
Suddenly, the frantic sound of running feet crunching crisp leaves and breaking dead branches, and the silence of these still woods has been broken.
The squad of eight American infantrymen takes cover behind the broad trunks of maples and oaks. In the brief seconds of quiet that follow, sunlight filtering in from the leaf canopy above dapples the thick mat of decaying leaves underfoot. The dance of gold belies the brutality of war, whether real or imagined.
Comes now the rapid rat-tat-tat of a machine gun. Then the quick retort of rifles, tentative and halting at first - like a knock on a door when one is unsure that anyone is home - then more certain - ready to kick the door down.
Orange flashes blossom from rifle barrels at random, and the smell of gunpowder and cordite mixes with the musty odor of rotting vegetation.
A white cloud from a smoke bomb drifts like a stage curtain across the scene in the steady, eastward breeze, and the American soldiers take advantage of the cover to move quickly into defensive positions.
Volleys are falling all around, now, and the reconnaissance team attempts to draw the Germans out of hiding.
Two soldiers retreat quickly.
``Pull back - pull back,'' calls out one, dodging a shot as he darts from one tree to another. His comrade fires off a round as cover, then he, too, is on the run as bait in the pincer action.
The other six men are ranged, hidden, on either side of what will, within minutes, become a mock killing ground.
Enjoying the protection afforded members of the Fourth Estate during times of war, this correspondent had earlier gained admittance to the Allied camp.
I crossed enemy lines at 1330 hours. Allied security was protected as I was blindfolded during the Jeep ride over rough terrain, and my safety was assured, since I was made to hold a white flag aloft.
My first objective in visiting the enemy camp was to ascertain whether, in fact, German prisoners of war were being treated humanely by the British, French and American forces. On this count, I was reassured.
Three of our soldiers, who had just been taken captive as I arrived at the command post, said, when asked out of earshot of enemy officers, that, yes, ``so far'' they had been treated with all due decency and respect. They had been captured as they reconnoitered the enemy camp, then backed up against the trunk of a big oak, blindfolded and searched. Though they found no tactical plans in the paperwork they removed from the prisoners' pockets, American officers did confiscate two cigars from one of the men.
``Blimey, how many's he got?'' asked a British soldier when first one, then another, of the cigars were pulled from the German soldier's camouflage tunic.
The men were waiting to be fed as I departed the camp with the American squad on its reconnaissance mission.
In the midst of the above detailed firefight, and in the interest of preserving a record of the larger battle, this correspondent made haste to leave the area and made her way through the woods to the German camp, which, unbeknownst to the Americans, was not far distant.
Now, night is coming quickly on.
Moisture from the thick, sticky mud that clings to my clothing chills my skin as I hunker down into a sandbagged foxhole, hoping for a few hours of sleep.
The wind whistles through the branches of the tall trees which have, so far, kept the location of this command post secret. Stark tree limbs reach like skeletal fingers into the gray sky.
It was only a short four months ago that Allied forces landed on the beaches of Normandy. Though many Allied troops were lost, those that survived to establish a beachhead were later bolstered by thousands of reenforcements. The American and British forces have now established a strong presence all along the 500-mile French front and are determinedly advancing, slowly but surely, on the German border.
This small clutch of stoic Luftwaffe, Waffen SS and Heer soldiers I am bunkered with - together they number 56 - is surrounded and vastly outnumbered by Allied troops. They remain confident, nonetheless, that they will prevail, at least in this encounter if not in the larger battle - the larger war.
It is 0300 hours, and I have entered the command tent, using the password, ``Panzer,'' because it is now raining hard. The difficulty of finding one's way to headquarters from the foxholes in the surrounding woods is exacerbated by the slippery mud of the clearing.
``I've never been this scared in . . . my life,'' says the guard on duty inside. He sits propped against a tent pole, pointing an 8 mm bolt action rifle. ``I just want to do it right, not lose it.'' His whispered words are slurred after more than 24 hours without sleep.
The Waffen SS officer has been left alone to guard headquarters while his comrades make defensive forays. Protection of the command center has taken top priority with the capture, several hours earlier, of the Allies' tactical plans for the invasion of Germany, he explains.
While the American, British and French soldiers slept, members of the Ninth Panzer unit crept unseen into the camp, entered the command tent and walked off with the enemy's locked plan case.
As they left the encampment with booty in hand, sleepy guards ``opened fire,'' according to one of the SS soldiers.
``I felt that great chill through my body when one ally asked who was responsible for the raid and one of us told him, `the Ninth SS,' '' says another guard who has just returned from probe a into the woods. He smears smaltze on a thick slice of pumpernickel.
``My stomach thinks my throat's been slit, I'm so hungry,'' says an SS man, coming in from patrol duty at 0542 hours. He cracks, then peels, the shell of a hard-boiled egg and slices off a hunk of cheddar cheese.
With the dampness, the chill, the lack of sleep, pessimism begins to set in. A tired voice mutters in the dark, ``It's the first time I've ever felt like this. We're gonna lose.''
But an SS officer bolsters his comrades. ``They'll never take us. We're too good.'' MEMO: [For a related story, see page 11 of The Beacon for this date.]
ILLUSTRATION: [Color Photo]
A LIVNIG HISTORY LESSON
ON THE COVER:
Doug Kingdom, left, from Alexandria and Kurt Reimer from Bristol,
Tenn. talk strategy as members of the ``Axis'' forces.
Staff photos by STEVE EARLEY
A re-enactor on the familiar motorcyle with sidecar gets
instructions before heading out of the ``Axis'' camp for a patrol.
The event is a chance for the group's members to use their authentic
World War II garb and gear.
Jeff Winholtz, left, and Brian Crawford, dressed as members of the
British SAS forces, surrender after a battle with Axis re-enactors.
The rat-tat-tat of machine gun fire and the intermittent bursts of
rifles were all recreated using blanks like these. But the smell of
gunpowder and cordite was in the air.
Staff photo by STEVE EARLEY
Joe Rempfer, a re-enactor from Pennsylvania, looks down the line of
other members of the Ninth SS Panzer Division in the Axis camp. The
Panzers captured an Allied plan case.
by CNB