Girl, you’re lookin’ sweeter now
You got it every day, girl
Wish that I could love you now
In a special way
You light my fire
I feel alive with you, baby
You blow my mind
I’m satisfied..
An Armée de Terre base outside Verdun, France -- 7:45am Thursday March 8, 1984.
Specialist Tony Freeman, United States Army, Omaha, Nebraska.
It almost had Tony believing he was back in Omaha on a Saturday night. Just him and his partners. In their best "lady-snatching" threads, ready to hit out of the clubs and dancehalls Downtown, or maybe they were piling into the car to head to the Budweiser Superfest Concert in Kansas City during the summer. He was hearing the beats of some good R&B...
The music was real, but the rest was a dream.
He awoke into a in a aluminium-lead quonset hut , surrounded by a lot of fellow troops. Tony, Specialist Ricardo Brown and 2nd Lieutenant Bill Michelle trudged into the refugee camp after almost three weeks on the move.
The trek began in horror. The sought refuge in a French national forest only to be bombed out of it by a group of Soviet fighter-bombers. They dropped hig explosive bombs and napalm on the forest. 45 NATO soldiers were killed. More would have lost their lives if a group of British RAF Tornadoes hadn't jumped into the fight. The RAF pilots shot down 3 of the Soviets, but also lost 2 of their own numbers. The remaining opponents fled back to what was left of East Germany or Czechoslovakia.
They were a part of the convoy of British, French and American forces who zigzagged west away from France-West Germany border. They encountered many small towns, deserted and/or damaged. They were attacked by frightened citizens who thought they were Russian. Some in the French countryside held these soldiers responsible for the nuclear war. Some jeered them as they went down the roads.
They were attacked by bandits operating like medieval highwaymen. Five days ago, 2nd Lieutenant Michelle was shot fighting them. His upper right thigh was wounded. A medic within their group stitched him up as best they could, but they had to reach a hospital, or an aid station. Anything.
The next day, Ricardo picked up a radio transmission. The French Army was sending a call to any suriviving NATO forces in France. The rally point would be Verdun.
They got here last night, after three days walking, running, and trying to stay safe through gunshots and fallout.
Verdun, on a foggy gray morning. Some of the bloodiest fighting of the World War One was here.
The trenches the separated American and French doughboys from the "Hun" of Imperial Germany, are now poured with concrete and filled with bodies. Filled with the casualties of a war that those who fought in the "War To End All Wars" couldn't begin to imagine, and this war wasn't over. You can hear the faint strains of weapon's fire and artillery. The surviving forces of the battle for West Germany are still fighting, even as much of their command structure is dead or fled.
"Good Morning, Amigo...I heard you made it to this town. Good to see you again," Staff Sargeant Gabriel Siffuentes said. The upbeat Marine from Florida had been here week. He, and a number of the those who fled firebase FINISH LINE just before it was destroyed by a tactical nuclear weapon.
"Hey Staff Sargeant," Tony said happily, "Nice to see a familiar face. But, i figured you'd have stay at that racetrack until...you know.
The Marine turned somber. "Colonel Gerhardt ordered me and my squad to evacuate. The Russians were maybe twenty clicks away, and being harassed by a forward team with antitank rockets and RPGs. By the time the WP guys pushed through, both side were nuclear committed. FINISH LINE got an airdropped nuke, and the rest were all the SCUDs pouring in. The Colonel died in the blast that came maybe 45 minutes after we had gone.
Tony's heart sank again. Siffuentes' squad saved Tony's life and the lives of his mate at the start of the war. They were surrounded by Spetsnaz forces, and pinned down, when a group of recon Marine outflanked and killed each of the Spets. FINISH LINE was a special place for Tony. It was the new base after the madness of the first 24 hours at war. It was a memory now, if memories still exist in these post-attack times.
A different voice awoke Tony from a morning daydream, "Specialist Freeman!" It was an Army officer, perhaps a junior aide-de-camp. "The Boss needs to see you, now.
"We have a boss?"
"Yes soldier, the ranking American officer. He's a colonel"
The officer led Tony to a command building. Inside a group of men were studying maps of the area.
"Specialist Freeman reporting as requested, sir!"
The officer before with average height, medium build, a short-haired guy with intense eyes, which hid a demeanor that was scholarly. At first glance he could be taken as a strategy room man than a field man.
Colonel Wesley K. Clark, United States Army, Chicago, Illinois.
"At ease, Specialist. I'm Colonel Clark. I've heard than you and two of your mates got here last night."
"That is right, sir. We been on the move since we got the evac order back on The Day."
"What unit where you with, and where were you in West Germany?"
"Second Armored, sir," Tony answered. "I drove an Abrams. We were under fire since the very start and maybe spent an hour at most outside of the tank. How about you, sir?"
"I was in the planning staff at SHAPE HQ Belgium. I was rotated to Heidelberg before the war started. When the balloon went up, they bugged out and headed to bases in France, at least the command staffs did. My group wound up here. The actual base we were going to head to was destroyed before we got there. When we got here we realized that I was highest rank left. I'd personally pass on the job, soldier. However, its a part of war."
"Are we still at war, sir?" Tony asked.
"I didn't hear about a cease fire or an armistice signed yet," Colonel Clark said. "Plus, we have to secure this area and this country along with the French Army. We still have a duty, and that's why I need you for a mission."
Tony nodded. "Action? Okay, sir..What do you have?"
"Records we have on you say you are quite the athlete. Football, Track...and Hockey? That's interesting."
"My Hockey team when I was stationed in Minnesota won an Armed Forces Championship," Tony said.
"Well, we have whole new sport for you Specialist," the Colonel said as he pointed to the three men in room with him. There were each in technical, tight warm weather gear.
The older man in the group, "Good morning monsieur, I called Cyrille. I have been asked by your Colonel to put together recon group. We are going to take an advanced look at some villages up the road. French Army says there is a depot at Carignan, 72 kilometers away. My team has volunteered to....reconnaissance the area."
"Sir, why not send an armored convoy there," Tony asked. "I'd drive that."
"Fuel," the Colonel said. "We have to save every drop before we start sending trucks and maybe tanks into the fray, we need to know what is there and if its worth using the fuel to get it."
"Well sir how are we getting there," Tony asked. "Horses?"
Cyrille shrugged. "Well....In a sense....oui."
"Follow these guys to the quartermaster," the Colonel said. "He has your gear. Captain Landrigan will be leading our part of the team. He's the contact."
Tony left the tent with two of Cyrille's men. One was stocky and quiet. The other was wiry and wore glasses.
"Another added to the group," the younger one said.
"I'll go on the trip if it means action. I'm Tony."
The younger one answer, "Je m'appelle Laurent."
The quartermaster had a light pack prepared, and a working M-16 ready, and some new clothes. A cross between basic BDUs, NBC and what looked to be..well "
"What the hell is this," Tony shrieked. "I'm not wearing tights, dude."
"Specialist," the quartermaster said. "Trust me, you'll want these"
Just beyond the quartermaster's tent, a group of soldiers were massing. It was the ready area. And at the center was the group leader for the military mission.
Captain Roger Landrigan, United States Army. Boulder, Colorado.
"You must be Specialist Freeman. Colonel told me he got another recruit," the Captain said excitedly. "I suggest you get some more chow while you can. You'll need it for the duty. Our friends here brought some good stuff...and by the way...we have a vehicle for you."
Landrigan pointed to a shed. In there was more food. A lot of apples and what smelled like cheese, but it wasn't typical Army issue. It was gourmet.
"Can you believe this," one of the troops said. "Best eating we've had since before the war. I wonder if these Frenchies have some wine around."
Tony grabbed as much as he could pack, and then headed to the next room. A couple of men were working on what look like.....bicycles.
"Excuse me," Tony said. "Where's the vehicles?"
"These are it," one of the men said in French accent. "This one is ready for you. Have a good ride."
Tony took hold of the bike. It certainly wasn't the Free Spirit he had back in Omaha. It was light, fast Gitane.
"This bike weighs nothing," Tony said.
"Very light, Americain," the mechanic said. "And light...means fast."
Tony traded his combat boots for cycling shoes, and he headed back to the ready area. Captain Landrigan was quite pleased. "Now you look ready for duty, troop."
"A very different sort of duty sir," Tony said. "A bike ride?"
"Specialist," Captain Landrigan said. "I live to ride, man. All I did back in Colorado. If I wasn't in the Army, would have been one of these guys"
Landrigan pointed at the civilians the army troops would ride with a protect. "You wouldn't believe who stumbled onto this camp. The best cycling team in the world was training here when all hell broke loose!"
For the Captain, this was bigger than Christmas. Roger Landrigan was an LRRP man. Long Range Reconnaissance Patrol, he was also a man who took every leave possible to follow a world-class bike race. He's followed the Grand Tours calendar since he got his first road bike at 11 years old. Being in the Army has allowed him to see Giros, Vueltas and Tours de France up close.
The Verdun camp had military, and thousands more refugees, many of them from France and Belgium. A few of the battered, tired civilians saw the massing of bicycles. Word had spread throughout the early morning. It seemed to surge the collective strength of people who felt hungry, tired and displaced.
Cyrille and a driver got in a small Renault and began to head up the road, a second and third car followed. The carried spare parts, bikes and first aid.
The refugees began to form a crowd. It was time to go.
The group formed slowly. The lead bike flanked by two French Army troops, followed by a second group and the U.S. Army and Air Force men who were chosen. It was odd to see men on bikes with rifles. But the crowd didn't see the rifles...They only saw the bikes, and two of their heroes again leading a charge on a French road.
Captain Landrigan was riding next to Tony. "Sir, these civilians are a bike team?"
"You got it, soldier," the Captain replied. "They volunteered to push the pace. You see the guys up front? The guy in the glasses? He won the Tour de France last year. The stocky dude? He's known as "The Badger". A real fighter. He's won Le Tour four times.
As the bikes began heading up the road. Refugees were cheering them on, and every rider seemed to find a little more energy. More crowds gathered as they headed through the town and out toward open road. People huddled in their homes went outside. They forgot about the gray, cold day. The didn't think of what the rad level was (they were within "safe levels" on this day). They heard the beautiful French symphony of gears and chains. They saw racing bicycles on parade.
From behind Tony, a rider swooped past and got into his rhythm. He looked like a young kid compared to the rest of the team.
Captain Landrigan knew who the young hotshot was. "One of the reasons I really hate this war," he said.
"Excuse me, sir?" Tony asked.
"The kid who just blew by us," the Captain replied. "He's one of ours, an American. Helluva young rider, too. That kid has the ability to win a Grand Tour someday.. He won't get the chance now."
The roars and cheers of the passers where constant, and the riders pushed the pace more. Even Tony felt his legs generating more power, even with a pack and a rifle on his back. They were leaving Verdun and heading out into the unknown.
Just behind, scared survivors smiled. Even after a nuclear war, there would still be a peloton heading up a French road.
Crevaison sur les paves. Tour de France. Tour de France.
Le velo vite repare. Tour de France. Tour de France.
Le peloton est regroupe. Tour de France. Tour de France.
Camarades et amitie. Tour de France. Tour de France.
to be continued.
