Kane & Abel (1979) Read online

  The Fifth Army, led by General Clark, landed in amphibious craft on the southern Italian coast, with aircraft giving tactical cover. They met considerable resistance, first at Anzio and then at Monte Cassino, but the action never involved Abel. His chest was now covered in medals that showed where he’d been, not what he’d done. He began to dread the end of a war in which he’d seen no combat, and would end up decorated for serving a million meals. But he could never come up with a plan that would get him to the front line. His chances were not improved when he was promoted to Lieutenant Colonel and sent to London to await further orders.

  After D-Day in June 1944, the great thrust across the English Channel and into Europe began. Abel was transferred to the First Army under General Omar N. Bradley, and detailed to the Ninth Armored Division. The Allies liberated Paris on August 25, and Abel paraded with the American and Free French soldiers down the Champs Elysees to a heroes’ reception, even if he was some way behind General de Gaulle. He studied the unbombed magnificent city, and decided on the site where he would build the first Baron hotel in Europe.

  The Allies moved on through France and crossed the German border in the final push towards Berlin. Local provisions were almost non-existent, because the countryside through which the Allies marched had been ravaged by the retreating German army. Whenever Abel arrived in a new town, he would commandeer the largest hotel and the remaining food supplies before any other American quartermaster had worked out where to start looking. British and American officers were always happy to dine with the Ninth Armored Division, and wondered how it managed to requisition such fresh provisions. On one occasion when General George S. Patton joined General Bradley for dinner, Abel was introduced to the fighting general, who always led his troops into battle brandishing an ivory-handled revolver.

  ‘The best meal I’ve had in the whole damn war,’ declared Patton.

  By February 1945 Abel had been in uniform for nearly three years, and he realized the war in Europe would be over in a matter of months. General Bradley kept sending him congratulatory notes and meaningless decorations to adorn his ever-expanding uniform, but they didn’t help. Abel begged to be allowed to fight in just one battle, but Bradley continued to turn a deaf ear.

  Although it was the responsibility of a junior officer to lead the supply trucks up to the front lines and supervise food for the troops, Abel often carried out that duty himself. And as he did in the running of his hotels, he never allowed any of his staff to know when or where he would next appear.

  It was the continual flow of blanket-covered soldiers on stretchers into camp that March morning that made Abel decide to take a look for himself. He could no longer bear the one-way traffic of limbless bodies. He rounded up a lieutenant, a sergeant, two corporals and twenty-eight privates, and headed for the front.

  The twenty-mile drive was excruciatingly slow that morning. Abel took the wheel of the leading truck - it made him feel a little like General Patton - as his convoy inched its way through heavy rain and thick mud; he had to pull off the road several times to allow ambulance details the right of way as they returned from the front. Wounded bodies took precedence over empty stomachs. Abel prayed that most were no more than wounded, but only an occasional nod or wave suggested any sign of life. It became more obvious to Abel with each mud-clogged mile that something big was going on near Remagen, and he could feel the beat of his heart quicken.

  When he finally reached the command post he could hear enemy fire in the near distance. He pounded his leg in anger as he watched stretcher-bearers bringing back yet more dead and wounded comrades. He was sick of learning about the war at second hand. He suspected that any reader of The New York Times was better informed than he was.

  Abel brought his convoy to a halt by the side of the field kitchen and jumped out of the truck, shielding himself from the heavy rain, feeling ashamed that others only a few miles away were shielding themselves from bullets. He supervised the unloading of 100 gallons of soup, a ton of corned beef, 200 chickens, half a ton of butter, 3 tons of potatoes and 100 ten-pound cans of baked beans - plus boxes of the inevitable K rations - in readiness for those going to, or returning from, the battlefield. He left his cooks to prepare the meal and the orderlies to peel the potatoes, while he went straight to the tent of the commanding officer, Brigadier General John Leonard, passing yet more dead and wounded soldiers on the way.

  As he was about to enter the tent, General Leonard, accompanied by his aide, came rushing out. He conducted a conversation with Abel while on the move.

  ‘What can I do for you, Colonel?’ Leonard asked.

  ‘I’ve started preparing the food for your battalion, sir, as requested in overnight orders.’

  ‘You needn’t bother with the food for now, Colonel. At first light this morning Lieutenant Burrows of the Ninth discovered an undamaged railroad bridge north of Remagen - the Ludendorff Bridge - and I gave orders that it should be crossed immediately and a bridgehead established on the far side of the river. Up to now, the Germans have blown up every bridge across the Rhine long before we got there, so we can’t hang around waiting for lunch before they demolish this one.’

  ‘Did the Ninth get across?’ asked Abel.

  ‘Sure did,’ replied the general, ‘but they encountered heavy resistance from a forest on the far side. The first platoons were ambushed, and God knows how many men we lost. So you’d better hold that food, Colonel, because my only interest now is in seeing how many of my men I can get back alive so they can join you for dinner.’

  ‘Is there anything I can do to help?’ asked Abel.

  Leonard stopped walking for a moment, and studied the overweight colonel who had clearly seen no action.

  ‘How many men do you have under your direct command?’

  ‘One lieutenant, one sergeant, two corporals and twenty-eight privates. Thirty-three in all, including myself, sir.’

  ‘Good. Report to the field hospital with your men. Turn them into stretcher-bearers, and bring back as many wounded as you can.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ Abel ran all the way back to the field kitchen, where he found most of his men sitting in a corner of the tent, smoking.

  ‘Get up, you lazy bastards. We’ve got real work to do for a change.’

  Thirty-two men snapped to attention.

  ‘Follow me!’ shouted Abel. ‘On the double!’

  He turned and started running again, this time towards the field hospital. A young doctor was briefing sixteen medical corpsmen when Abel and his out-of-breath, unfit, untrained unit appeared at the entrance of the tent.

  ‘Can I help you, sir?’ asked the doctor.

  ‘No, but I hope I can help you. I have thirty-two men who’ve been detailed by General Leonard to join your group.’ It was the first his men had heard of it.

  The doctor stared in amazement at the colonel. ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Don’t call me sir,’ said Abel. ‘We’re here to assist you.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ the doctor repeated.

  He handed Abel a carton of Red Cross armbands, which the cooks, kitchen orderlies and potato peelers put on as the doctor briefed them on what was taking place in the forest on the other side of the Ludendorff Bridge.

  ‘The Ninth has sustained heavy casualties. Those of you with medical expertise will remain in the battle zone, while the rest will bring back as many of the wounded as possible.’

  Abel was delighted to be taking an active part in the war at last. The doctor, now in command of forty-nine men, allocated eighteen stretchers, and each soldier received a full medical pack. He then led his motley band through the mud and rain towards the Ludendorff Bridge, with Abel only a yard behind. When they reached the Rhine they saw row upon row of blankets, covering lifeless bodies. They marched silently across the bridge in single file, passing the remnants of the German explosion that had failed to destroy the foundations of the bridge.

  On up towards the forest they marched, the sound of gunfire growing in intensit