The Legion Is My Country is doing great. False Start, Book 2 of The Mephisto Legion, is available for pre-order and releases on July 21.
#sciencefiction#militaryscifi
On June 6, 1944, the most powerful armored reserve in Western Europe sat completely still. What unfolded that morning is one of history's most staggering cascades of catastrophic timing.
First: the weather. German meteorologists forecast storms in the Channel. Impossible landing conditions. The invasion was days away at minimum. Rommel, commander of the Atlantic Wall, took the forecast as a personal gift. He packed a pair of grey suede shoes he had bought as a surprise for his wife. June 6 was her 50th birthday. He drove home to Germany to celebrate.
Second: the deception. Operation Fortitude had convinced German high command that Normandy was a feint. The REAL invasion, they were certain, was coming at Pas-de-Calais, where a fake army group under Patton sat waiting. Hitler held his best units in reserve for a blow that was never coming.
Third: the command structure. Rommel and his superior, von Rundstedt, had fought bitterly over Panzer strategy. Rommel wanted the tanks near the beaches. He had been destroyed by Allied air power in Africa and knew armored columns moving by daylight would be slaughtered on the road. Von Rundstedt wanted a massive concentrated reserve for one decisive inland counterattack. Hitler resolved the argument in the worst possible way: he split the difference. Some Panzers to each army group, the best divisions locked in OKW reserve. Answerable to Hitler alone. No one else could release them.
Fourth: Hitler slept. When paratroopers began landing in the dark early morning hours, his staff quietly noted the reports and let him rest. His personal physician had sedated him the previous night. He woke around 10am. When briefed on the landings, he reportedly laughed. A feint, obviously. Fortitude was working perfectly. He would wait for the real invasion at Calais.
So while Allied troops fought and bled across five beaches, the most powerful Panzer force in France sat with engines cold. The 12th SS Panzer Division Hitlerjugend. Panzer Lehr. Fueled. Armed. Ready. Waiting on one phone call that did not come.
Only the 21st Panzer Division was immediately available. And in the afternoon, it did something remarkable. It drove north, punched into the gap between Juno and Sword beaches, and elements actually reached the Channel coast. For a brief window, the invasion had a knife at its throat.
Then the men of the 21st Panzer looked up.
248 British gliders were passing overhead, landing behind them. The commanders assumed they were being encircled. They pulled back south to avoid the trap.
Those gliders were not an encirclement. They were a routine reinforcement of the 6th Airborne. The gap closed. The moment passed.
Hitler released the reserve Panzers at 4pm. By then, Allied troops had been ashore for 10 hours. The 12th SS and Panzer Lehr spent the night getting shredded by Allied aircraft as they marched to the front. They arrived piecemeal, the next day, into a beachhead that was already fortified.
Six years of war. Millions of lives. The fate of Europe.
And it hinged on a weather forecast, a pair of grey suede shoes, a sleeping dictator, and 21st Panzer soldiers who mistook a routine glider landing for a trap.
When I was the Air Force Military Aide to Bill Clinton (and again, that was not a political appointee position, it was a military assignment), I served daily with very young staffers who were appointed because of their efforts in the campaign or who their parents were.
I really enjoyed interacting with most of them. Bright kids from Ivy League school. But their naïveté and lack of experience showed. Dramatically.
One day I was walking across the White House “campus,” the “18 acres,” and I encountered one of the young female staffers. We chatted for a bit, and she asked me, “So, why did you join the military? Were your career options limited or were you forced to by a judge?”
I wanted to throat punch her, but I said, “No, ma’am, I volunteered.”
She asked, “But why? Lack of education? No other options?”
“No, ma’am, I volunteered. Really. Not only do I have a Bachelor’s but also an MBA.”
She asked again, “Then why?”
I shook my head and walked away. They simply can’t understand a higher calling. They are incapable of understanding that another human who would selflessly serve.
Therein lies much of the Democrat vs. military disconnect. They’re missing the patriotism chip.
Read the Book Shots Fired In Anger, written in 1947 by John B George - his memoirs of Guadalcanal - then watch The Pacific. That may change your opinion.
Before the United States had fully entered the war in Asia, American pilots were already being recruited to fight Japan over China.
They flew shark-faced P-40s for a deaf, retired Army officer the brass had cast aside.
Often outnumbered in the skies over China and Burma, they shot down enemy planes at a rate almost no one believed.
This is the story of Claire Chennault and the Flying Tigers..🧵1/7
Many years ago (1980ish), I did an internship at a VA Regional Medical Center in the behavioral science unit. While there, I had the privilege of meeting one of the residents who flew with Chennault. At first I wasn't sure he was legit, but a quick check of his service record proved he was the real deal. About 10 years ago I met a vet who flew C-54s in the Berlin Airlift. Almost all of the amazing people are gone now.