DENYING REALITY
Major Richard Blaine fights an uphill battle trying to convince smug generals they are mistaken in ways that will cost thousands of lives.
DENYING REALITY
“How often it is that the angry man rages denialof what his inner self is already telling him.”
– Mark Twain
Looking at the flustered faces ofthe high-ranking officers in the bench seats in front of me, I thought, not forthe first time, that Military Command was the art and science of running thecircus from the monkey cage.
The Army held a pathetic beliefin the collective wisdom of individual ignorance. That belief would killthousands in three weeks’ time.
The tragedy was that these ineptstrategists felt themselves to be at the very apex of brilliance andhumanitarianism.
But I knew that the urge to savehumanity was almost always a false front for the urge to rule.
Consider the modern Brutus,General Eisenhower. He had everyone fooled by his “earnest” pose. Might haveeven fooled me but for Sentient “reading” the diary of his thoughts.
Behind me, General Pattonsnapped, “Well, you going to hurl us pell-mell onto Omaha Beach or what?”
I turned to him. “I’m going totry to reason with you all so that Sentient does not do that.”
I turned slowly round and roundto talk to all the generals.
“The Germans know that their bestchance to stop this Allied Invasion is Omaha Beach – which you have to take otherwisethe gap between Utah and the British beaches will be too great.”
I shook my head. “No tacticiancould have devised a better defensive situation. A narrow, enclosedbattlefield, with no possibility of outflanking it.”
I sighed, “Many natural obstaclesfor the attacker to overcome; an ideal place to build fixed fortifications anda trench system on the slope of the bluff and on the high ground looking downon a wide, open killing field for any infantry trying to cross no-man’s-land.”
Bradley grunted, “We’veconsidered all that, Major.”
I nodded my head. “Yes. Four misconceptionsgave you the notion that you could successfully assault thisall-but-impregnable position.”
I held up the first throbbingfinger. “Allied intelligence said that the fortifications and trenches weremanned by the 716th Infantry Division, a low-quality unit made up of Poles andRussians with poor morale.”
I barked a bitter laugh. “At Omaha, intelligence reckoned that therewas only one battalion of about 800 troops to man the defenses.”
I held up the second achingfinger. “The B-17s assigned to the air bombardment will hit the beach witheverything they have, destroying or at least neutralizing the bunkers andcreating craters on the beach and bluff that would be usable as foxholes forthe infantry.
Up went my third artificialfinger.
“The naval bombardment,culminating with the LCTs’ rockets, will finish off anything left alive andmoving after the B-17s finish. The infantry from the 29th and 1st divisionsgoing into Omaha are being told that their problems would begin when theygot to the top of the bluff and started to move inland toward their D-Dayobjectives.”
A fourth finger joined itsthrobbing brothers. “40,000 men with 3,500 motorized vehicles are scheduled toland at Omaha on D-Day.”
I hung my head and almost sobbed.“None of that will prove to be true.”
I raised my head and met theireyes. “The intelligence was wrong; instead of the contemptible 716th Division,the quite capable 352nd Division will be in its place.”
I rubbed my face with throbbingfingers.” Instead of one German battalion to cover the beach, there will be three.”
I saw hardened denying eyes.
“The cloud cover and late arrivalwill cause the B-17s to delay their release until they will be as much as fivekilometers inland; not a single bomb will fall on the beach or bluff.The naval bombardment will be too brief and generally inaccurate, and in anycase, it will concentrate on the big fortifications above the bluff.”
Their rock faces told me theyrefused to believe me. “Finally, most of the rockets will fall short, most ofthem landing in the surf, killing thousands of fish but no Germans.”
General Bradley’s bullet eyes metmine. “We have hard intelligence while you have this fanciful Sentient ofyours. Regardless of what you say, Major, we’re going.”
Above us, Sentient’s voicelaughed, “YES, TRIBAL CHIEFTAN, YOU ARE ALL GOING!”
