One Way Roads

by Erik Foge

  Montgomery approached Erik and pushed his face close to Erik’s. “Major, I can assure you General Urquhart’s First Airborne is quite capable of holding their own.”

  Erik mocked, “I forgot, you and MI6 know all.”

  “That’s correct, major.”

  Bradley positioned himself by Jamie, leaned in and whispered in her ear, “I hope the major knows who he’s talking to and knows what he’s doing.”

  Jamie turned and replied in a half whisper, “He does; he knows the German Army very well and what they’re capable of doing.”

  Erik took charge of the conversation: “Like in May 1938, when General Oster and Beck warned the British government that Hitler was going to start a war.” He held up one finger. “And urged resistance toward him.” He held up another finger. “They also asked you to help them overthrow Hitler.” He raised a third finger. “Your government was extremely doubtful that the German opposition could overthrow the Nazi regime. Thus, they ignored those messages.” Erik tapped his foot while he waited for an answer.

  “What else do you know, major?” Montgomery asked, his expression sour.

  “That Rommel thought Patton was a better general, among other things, Sir.”

  Montgomery tilted his head, his right eyebrow raised. “How do you know that?”

  “I knew him personally.”

  Montgomery rubbed his chin. “What else do you know?”

  “Oh, do you really want to know?”

  Bradley stepped between them. “Gentlemen, Germany is our enemy, not each other.” Montgomery glared at him. “Monty, I have to agree with the major that you should put additional troops in Arnhem.”

  “Who would you recommend, major?”

  “Why not the First Polish Parachute Brigade?”

  “They are under the command of General Sosabowski?” Montgomery asked, looking at Browning. Browning nodded and Montgomery stared back impassively. “Since we’re working together, I will modify my plans to incorporate the First Polish Parachute Brigade. Anything else, major?”

  “I recommend you fly them at the same time you fly General Urquhart’s First Airborne.”

  Montgomery shook his head. “Major, leave that up to me. I don’t need your help or opinions on field operations.”

  “If the plan succeeds…” Erik replied with dramatic, false sincerity.

  “When it succeeds, major.” Montgomery gave Erik a look of disdain.

  “Of course, if the plan succeeds, we can pour into the Ruhr?”

  Montgomery nodded but maintained his glare.

  “Would you say Antwerp will be your next goal?”

  “Explain yourself, major.”

  “Operation Crossbow,” Erik stated and offered nothing more.

  Montgomery and Browning stared at each other as if a trapdoor had opened in the floor beneath them. Montgomery raised one eyebrow in a questioning slant and gave a keep-your-mouth-shut-look toward Erik. “Finished, major?”

  Erik tilted his head as if to say maybe or maybe not.

  Dripping with spite, Montgomery added defensively, “Major, this is neither the place nor the time.”

  “It may not be the place nor the time, but Antwerp is just as important to us as it is to the Germans. If we take it, they will launch an offensive,” Erik said.

  “With what? Germany is defeated! They’re fighting with old men and boys!”

  “Oh dear God, Monty, you actually believe that bullshit?” Bradley tried to voice his opinion, but Erik shot him down with an open palm gesture. Bradley looked at Jamie as if to say Erik needed to watch what he was saying, but Erik continued:

  “The Germans have a new tank out, the Tiger Two. It’ll destroy any tank we put against it.”

  Montgomery reached over and with a forefinger stirred his intelligence reports and pulled one out. Then he leaned toward Erik, tapped a hooked forefinger on his report and spoke clearly with an undertone of anger and resentment. “Major, this report states that they are not capable and do not have the resources to build a new tank.”

  “You can count on two things that will happen by the end of this year,” Erik replied, “one, the Germans will launch another offensive in the west, and they will have marginal success. And two,” Erik looked the length of the table where the map laid and glanced back at Montgomery, “Operation Market Garden will fail.”

  “How dare you mock me and my plan?” Montgomery shot back with a sour look on his face. “Now major, I should ask you, do you, actually believe your bullshit?” Montgomery waited to see if Erik had any more comments.

  Erik’s face heated and his jaw tightened. “Yes, I do! If anything, they will launch their last offensive in the Ardennes forest!”

  “How can you consider yourself an intelligence officer of the OSS since you do not know the facts about the German Army?”

  “I know more than you will ever know. Now I must ask this—how can you consider yourself an effective general when you failed to take Caen with the initial landings on June sixth?”

  Silence fell upon the room. Montgomery gave Erik a mad, dismissive gesture and pointed to the door. “Get out! Leave the room now, major!” Then he turned to Bradley. “I will not take this badgering from a pathetic major who knows nothing about Germany and has never been in combat.”

  Erik got in Montgomery’s face. “Listen here you, bloody bastard, I’ve seen more death face-to-face in combat then you ever will.”

  Bradley separated them both, like a referee in a boxing match, and then motioned Erik to excuse himself politely. Erik snapped a salute to Montgomery and did an about-face. Bradley excused himself, so did Jamie, and they caught up with Erik.

  “Major, what was that all about?” Bradley asked. “You were way out of line. You could be court martialed for your actions.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “You should because I won’t be able to go to your defense.”

  “I’m not asking you to.” Erik leaned in so only Bradley could hear. “The Germans are making more advanced weapons, and the British know that. This grand plan, Operation Market Garden, will fail, but Montgomery will not listen to anyone but himself.” Erik looked around and then continued, “You need to go to Eisenhower and advise him this is a bad plan.”

  “I can’t.”

  Erik leaned back; his eyes widened, unable to hide his surprise at Bradley’s statement. “Why in the hell not? Eisenhower will listen to you.”

  Bradley shook his head and removed his glasses. “Monty can be difficult. I know your feelings are shared and expressed by a lot of the generals.”

  “You avoided my question … I’d like an answer.”

  “You wouldn’t understand.”

  “Try me.” Erik waited, then began to understand. “Political reasons?”

  Bradley gave a subtle nod.

  “Things never change.”

  “Major…”

  “Call me Erik.”

  Bradley motioned Erik to walk with him and Jamie followed behind. “Erik, how do you know Operation Market Garden will fail?”

  “Just call it a gut feeling.”

  Bradley glanced at Jamie. “Your aide said you know a lot about the German Army.” Erik nodded.

  “What are you going to do now?”

  “Sir, I really don’t know.”

  “I could use a man with your knowledge and expertise on my staff. All I have to do is make a few calls.”

  “Thank you, but I have to decline.”

  “Why?”

  “I prefer working alone.”

  “Do you really think you can make a difference all by yourself?”

  Erik smirked and nodded.

  Bradley cocked his head and appraised Erik with a knowing smile. “Major, will I see you again?”

  “I don’t know…now I want you to be straight with me.” Erik pointed at Bradley to make his point clear. “How do you know about me and the French Resistance?”

  “We have a contact in Audrieu, France, and he men
tioned your name.”

  “He who?”

  “He goes by the name Hawk.”

  “The Hawk?” Erik tilted his head forward, as Bradley nodded his head. “What is his real name and why do they call him the Hawk?”

  Bradley looked around and said in a half-whisper, “Valensky and because of his eyes.”

  Erik smirked and snapped a salute. Bradley returned one, and they shook hands and parted ways. Jamie caught up with Erik at the sergeant’s desk. “Sergeant.”

  The sergeant gave his undivided attention. “Yes, Sir?”

  “Where are the NCO’s quarters?”

  “Head out these doors and take an immediate left. It’s the stone structure about twenty yards away.”

  Erik nodded as he absorbed the information and took mental notes. “Thank you, Sergeant. As you were.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Erik and Jamie walked down the stairs and headed in the direction of the NCO’s quarters. He bit his lower lip while he thought about what had just happened and about the other possibilities that he could pursue to prevent the Germans from launching their rockets armed with atomic warheads, like saving Hitler’s life.

  “Wow, babe, Montgomery and you really didn’t see eye-to-eye,” Jamie said. Erik glared at her for a second then nodded. “He really doesn’t like you.”

  “Thanks for the recap,” Erik said. “He’s a pompous ass and will get what he deserves.”

  “Jacques told me that people either like you or hate you.”

  Erik arched his brow and tilted his head slightly as if he considered the possibility.

  “Is what you did back there the reason why?”

  “One of many reasons.”

  Jamie grabbed his arm and turned him around. “Will Operation Market Garden really fail?” Erik looked at her as if she should already know the answer. “Erik, please tell me. I want to know.”

  “Most definitely, and unfortunately a lot of British and Polish paratroopers will die in Arnhem.” His stomach suddenly surged, and his hands balled up into fists. “Damn it. Damn it. Damn it.” If he hadn’t antagonized Montgomery quite so much, the outcome might have been different. Now he’d be responsible for a lot of Polish paratroopers’ deaths.

  Jamie grabbed his shoulders and looked into his eyes. “What is it?”

  Erik shook his head in disgust. “It’s nothing. Forget it.”

  Jamie shrugged. He was glad she knew him well enough not to push the issue. Erik turned around and barged through the door of the NCO’s barracks. Men recognized he was an officer, snapped to attention and saluted. Erik returned the salute and gave the order, “As you were.” He approached an individual who was busy reading a Life magazine.

  The individual snapped a salute and Erik did one in return. “Can I help you, Sir?”

  “Where are Sergeant Court’s belongings?”

  The soldier glanced down the row of bunks and pointed. “Over there, Sir.”

  As Erik walked off, all eyes focused on Jamie, who followed him in. Erik glanced over Court’s area and saw the MP-44 that was taken from the Kübelwagen he drove. Erik grabbed it and the extra magazines. At that moment, he heard a loud, outspoken voice.

  “Nice legs! When did they allow women in here? Though it’s not like I’m complaining.”

  Erik glanced up and recognized Court, the sergeant who punched him in the gut when he first came to see General Bradley. He stood quickly.

  “Hey lieutenant, are you here for business or pleasure.” Court eyed Jamie from head-to-toe. “I hope it’s for pleasure because I’m up for it if you get my meaning.” He laughed, and Jamie looked to Erik for help.

  “Hey, Court, some major is in your things,” someone said.

  “What in the hell?” Court and Erik’s eyes met like two gunslingers in a western film. “That’s my gun!” Court stormed to his bunk. Erik simply motioned Court to come get it.

  Erik studied his opponent, looked for an angle to attack. Court pointed his finger at Erik and left his abdomen exposed. Erik placed his right foot forward, and at the same time slammed the butt of the gun into Court’s gut. Court gasped and peered up. Erik again slammed the butt of the gun into his belly which caused him to fall to his knees. Jamie and the others stood motionless.

  “Before I introduce myself, you do know how to salute an officer?” Erik forced Court around to face Jamie and then jerked him back around to face him. “Did you forget?”

  Court shook his head, his expression confused.

  Erik shouldered the MP-44 and pulled out his pistol. “Remember me?” Though he appeared calm, something unmistakably ominous festered inside Erik. “Let me give you some clues,” he said evenly.

  Jamie stepped forward with her mouth open as if unable to find words. Erik shook his head and gave a look that told her not to interfere. Then he forced Court’s head back and placed the gun to his head. Erik’s brow wrinkled in vexation and he said bluntly, “You speak good English for a Nazi.”

  Court’s eyes enlarged in horror. “I … I was just doing my job.”

  Erik gave a sadistic grin with a gleam of satisfaction in his eyes. “So was I.” Then Erik swung the grip in the back of Court’s head and knocked him unconscious. He released his body which fell to the floor.

  Jamie stared at him white-faced. Erik met her gaze without emotion and jerked his head toward the door. She followed him out. They climbed into the car, and Jamie reached for his hand.

  “Erik, can I ask you something?”

  “You can ask, but it doesn’t mean I’m going to answer.”

  Jamie nodded sheepishly. “What happened back there?”

  Erik squinted at her, shrugged as if to say it wasn’t worth acknowledging and started the car.

  “Why won’t you tell me?”

  “Because he’s an asshole, and I only did to him what he did to me.”

  Erik drove off.

  Jamie sighed and quickly changed the subject. “You did well back there.”

  Erik glanced at her as if to say, what are we are talking about now?

  “You know the meeting with all the generals.”

  Erik rolled his eyes. “I should’ve done better.”

  “I’m proud of you.”

  He grinned and gently tapped her hand. “You did well, too.”

  “Thanks, babe. Could you go to Eisenhower and warn him that Operation Market Garden will fail?”

  Erik shook his head. “Even if I tried, it’d be almost impossible to see him, and he’d ask me too many questions. I remember reading something he said, ‘It is not the big decisions that weigh heavy … it’s the details, the small ones.’”14

  “Bonesteiner said you were the best. I can see why he said that.”

  Erik remained quiet. His thoughts raced, but there was nothing he could do. Then he remembered the First Polish Parachute Brigade and smashed his fist against the steering wheel.

  Jamie tried to comfort him by rubbing his arm. “Babe, if you want to talk about it, I’m here for you. It might be good if you vent versus keeping it bottled up.”

  Erik shook his head and tried to clear his thoughts, but a flashback hit him from his time in Iraq: three of his friends were killed when an al Qaeda RPG hit their Humvee. Then, like now, there was not anything he could do except watch and blame himself for their deaths because he made a small mistake. His hands trembled.

  “Are you okay, babe?” She stared into his eyes. “What are you thinking about?”

  “I’m fine.” He took a deep breath to still the violent shakes that overcame him. He felt her eyes on him and fought to contain his emotions but failed. He pulled the car over.

  “Babe? Talk to me.” Jamie tilted her head.

  His eyes began to water. Then Erik told the story of when he was in Iraq in 2002. The memory was so vibrant that he could remember every word spoken.

  It was a long day. I was impersonating a member of the Bundesnachrichtendienst, BND, (Germany’s Federal Intelligence Service) in order to
interrogate a member of al Qaeda, who was in the hands of the German Army. The member of al Qaeda had sensitive information that the Russian Navy was going to make an attempt to sell a few of their nuclear submarines and other weapons of mass destruction. But I got nothing out of him. After that, I hooked up with my military contacts, who were on routine patrol. The air was dry and hot, like an oven, though the temperature was slowly becoming bearable. Tensions were high, eyes alert, and all were trying to keep in good spirits and humor. Parker, who was manning a .50-calibre machine gun in the Humvee’s turret, was going to see his girlfriend, a nurse in Germany. Jim, whose tour was ending in a few days, was behind the wheel. Ray, a Navy SEAL who was called out of retirement, mainly because he worked in Intelligence, was in the front passenger seat, and I was in the back seat. Everyone was eager to get back to base.

  “Hey, Függer, when do you head out?” Ray asked, looking over his shoulder.

  “0700,” I replied.

  “Must be nice, Sir,” Jim said.

  “You’ll be joining me soon.”

  “Not soon enough, Sir.” Jim looked in the rearview mirror. “It has been a pleasure knowing you.”

  “Hey guys, first round’s on me,” Parker yelled from the top side.

  I pointed to a side street and said, “I think this is a shortcut to the base.”

  Ray chuckled and shook his head. “You’ve been here only four days and you think you know this shithole of a place.” Jim turned onto the side street, and Ray stared at me and said, “For being a squirrel, you’re not bad.”

  As we approached a bridge, a group of Iraqi men scattered. They looked suspicious, as if they were planning something. Some ran to the left, behind some burned out vehicles, and some scurried down an embankment under the bridge. Ray said there was something wrong with the situation and ordered Parker to keep alert and man the .50-calibre. But it was too late. We heard the whistling sound of a rocket-propelled grenade that came our way. Everyone braced themselves, and Jim slammed his foot on the accelerator.

  Parker yelled in terror, “RPG!”