The Human Level

On Memorial Day we must all remember the true nature of war.

War is not a series of events on maps or a set of dates in a history book, or even a few words about an individual’s experience. Instead war is a personally enduring trial of what it means to belong to humanity.

Who are we as a species?

What differentiates us from others?

How do we identify, manipulate, and attempt to overpower others in our personal existence?

Can we resolve our differences of opinion in other ways?

I do not touch on those topics very much here. Instead, I simply seek to show the world war is only experienced on a personal level.

War is one person traversing time and space while feeling the moment of existence.

Whether it is positive negative, or neutral, all War is simply personal experience.

Until we can understand what each of these experiences is like for those within their confines, we cannot understand war and its costs.

May we come to see war on the human level, realizing next time we have the choice to engage in one we recognize that choice leads to personal histories which should never be lost.

Stonne

“AP” I yell.

 

Krause removes an armor piercing shell from the wicker basket, handing it to Fuchs, the loader.

 

Fuchs places the AP round gently within the open breach on our Pak-36 anti-tank gun.

 

Pohl closes the breach, making the gun ready.

 

We’re dug in, and loaded, for the inevitable French counter-attack.

 

“Now we wait” I tell my men, as we scan through the town, and up the lane on the right.

 

Armor crews rush to their idling tanks, all lined up in a column up the narrow lane in the small village of Stonne.

 

Small French houses bracket each tank in the line.

 

Those could be my house. This could be Boppard, where mom is now. What if the French offensive had broken through the Sigfried Line last year, advancing all the way through Boppard? What if mom had been in a house surrounded by French tanks?

 

Damn those French tanks!

 

Just as I think about French tanks, a Char-B1 appears up the road, on the edge of this small French town.

 

The moment I notice it, it fires two shots; one from it’s 47 mm turret gun, and the other from its hull-mounted 75 mm gun.

 

He was ready!

 

Instantly the first and last tanks in the column lined up on that narrow street burst into flames.

 

Get him, Get him!

 

“Prepare to fire at that Char-B if he comes within range” I calmly tell my crew.

 

We all stare in amazement as the French tank moves forward, rapidly firing both guns at the line of German tanks.

 

The German tanks fire back, all nine left in operation are pounding the French tank with everything they can throw at it.

 

Nothing is penetrating!

 

That thing is a beast!

 

The Char-B keeps coming, knocking down tank after tank in the German column.

 

Four German tanks are burning as they are pushed aside by the oncoming French monster.

 

“In Range!” Vogt screams above the sound of more shells firing and the eruption of our compatriots flammable armored vehicles.

 

“Fire!” I scream back.

 

At this range we’re just knocking on the door.

 

“AP” I yell, starting the loading process for my AT gun all over again.

 

The French tank simply continues forward, impervious to all the steel thrown at it.

 

Krause removes an armor piercing shell from the wicker basket, handing it to Fuchs, the loader.

 

Our shell quietly disappears into the Char’s armor, with no discernible result.

 

Fuchs places the AP round gently within the open breach.

 

Pohl closes the breach, making the gun ready.

 

The French tank is closer now.

 

May this round find its way home!

 

“Fire!” I scream, yet again launching an armor piercing shell at the French Char-B.

 

Another two Panzers explode as the Char-B thrusts its way through the small town.

 

“AP” I yell, repeating the loading process.

 

The French tank continues forward so it is now only a few hundred meters away.

 

Again, the shell is absorbed in the French tank’s thick armor, with no result.

 

It’s as if that thing is swallowing our steel, then spitting it back out at our tanks as it goes.

 

Krause removes an armor piercing shell from the wicker basket, handing it to Fuchs, the loader.

 

Fuchs places the AP round gently within the open breach.

 

Pohl closes the breach, making the gun ready.

 

Our tanks rapidly fire at the onrushing French machine, but their shots are as effective as my own.

 

Another two Panzers explode.

 

How many are dying from this one French Char-B?

 

I sure hope he’s alone!

 

“AP” I yell, hoping the closing range will help my rounds penetrate.

 

Krause slowly removes an armor piercing shell from the wicker basket, as he stares at the oncoming French beast.

 

Fuchs reaches out, taking the shell from Krause.

 

Their faces are solid with fear.

 

Is my face expressing the same thing?

 

That monster is under 100 meters away, and still coming strong.

 

“Stay focused on your duty.” I remind my crew.

 

Their faces turn back to their work.

 

Fuchs places the AP round gently within the open breach.

 

Pohl sternly closes the breach, prepping the gun.

 

“Fire!” I yell just as two more Panzers blow up.

 

That’s the last of our tanks.

 

Now it’s up to us.

 

The French tank dashes toward us.

 

Our last round ricocheting off the front armor plate.

 

We’re useless against this behemoth!

 

As he closes range we should penetrate.

 

We should!

 

“AP” I scream, knowing this will be our last round before he’s on us.

 

The French tank’s machine gun opens up on us, spitting rounds all around our position.

 

This is it!

 

Krause gingerly removes an armor piercing shell from the wicker basket, while his body trembles.

 

“Krause, stay with us.”

 

A round smashes through Krause’s left leg, crumpling him just as he hands the round to Fuchs, whose face is pale white.

 

“This is our chance to knock it down, load up Fuchs!” I scream.

 

Fuchs automatically places the round in the breach, which Pohl snaps shut.

 

They are breaking!

 

“Medic! Medic!” Fuchs screams, hoping to help Krause.

 

Am I breaking?

 

“Fire!” I scream, as I stare down the on-rushing French monster.

 

“NOTHING!” I holler before realizing anything slipped out.

 

Krause is whithering in agony on the ground with Fuchs over him.

 

We’re no longer an operational unit.

 

BCHCHCHOOOOO

 

I’m blown away from my gun.

 

Darkness surrounds my small area of remaining site.

 

That Monster bit me too!

 

Looking back toward where my gun had been set-up, I see Pohl dangling over the destroyed breach.

 

I can’t see Fuchs or Krause anywhere.

 

The French tank has already turned, making its way up the small lane to our right.

 

Hopefully the other Pak-36 over there can find a way to penetrate his armor.

 

My eyes go dark.

 

My world goes quiet.

 

My mind goes still.

 

 

 

On May 16, 1940 a single French B1 bis named “Eure” and commanded by Captain Bilotte forced its way into the town of Stonne. Hotly contested, Stonne switched sides 17 times over the course of the German invasion of France. Captain Bilotte’s Eure attacked a German column from Panzer Regiment 8, destroying 2 Panzer IV and 11 Panzer III tanks, along with 2 Pack 36 anti-tank guns. After his successful assault, Captain Billotte turned around, heading back out of the village. His tank had endured 140 shell impacts, all of which failed to penetrate the thick armor of this massive beast of a machine. After the battle Bilotte was nicknamed “The Butcher of Stonne.”

 

Contrary to popular opinion, even though France eventually fell to the German onslaught, the French put up a heck of a fight with some advanced and awesomely powerful equipment. Poor communication, tactics, and strategic leadership, as well as operational plans and some good German luck led to France’s defeat. It wasn’t their ability to inflict heavy losses on the Germans which caused them to fall.

 

Today Captain Bilotte’s Eure can be seen in the center of Stonne. His name is also given to an award in the game “World of Tanks” in which the player destroys a large number of enemy vehicles quickly. Pierre Armand Gaston Bilotte went on to serve as a military attache, a division commander, the head of France’s military mission to the United Nations, and eventually Minister of National Defense.

 

 

 

 

If you like what you've read here, please consider buying

Threads of The War, Volume IV.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The 1st Time

Still wet from the rainstorms through which we passed the night, the deck of the carrier undulates with the steep rise and fall of the churning Pacific Ocean.

I taxi my fighter across the deck toward the bow of the ship, taking my station facing the wind for maximum lift.

We’re going to take out the fleet!

When my turn arrives I max my engine while holding the breaks to await the next rise of the carrier’s deck with a steep wave.

This is it!

The deck rises.

The flag man drops his arms toward the sea.

Purring like a highly coiled cat ready to pounce, my engine’s full-throttle push against the breaks is relieved as I release the wheels.

Slowly, at first, then with great speed and power, I launch off the deck of the carrier into open ocean.

As I rise I can see our small destroyer escort and massive carriers fade in the distance.

They will never know what hit them!

Our flight of fighters and dive bombers heads toward Oahu, toward Pearl Harbor, towards destiny.

We are the vanguard of a new age!

We are going to catch them with their pants down!

As we approach Pearl Harbor from the north, a vast row of battleships reveals itself from behind the small chain of mountains separating the northern and southern parts of the island.

Scanning away from the battleships, I spot my targets, the orderly lined up planes on Hickam Field and Ford Island.

We did it, they are surprised!

I head my fighter toward Hickam, firing my machine guns to strafe the empty and idle fighters lined up there.

First flight heads toward battleship row, dropping their bombs on each of the ships parked in a beautiful line on the side of Ford Island.

There’s nothing to stop us from taking out the whole fleet and air arm.

What a day, the Pacific is ours!

Zeroing in on Ford Island, I run another pass to strafe even more fighters.

We’re going to take them all out!

No resistance, no idea we were coming, no defense!

As I run low on ammunition I signal to Second Flight, “Time to head home!”

We’ve done our job this day.

 

 

December 7th, 1941 was not the first time anyone conducted a successful aerial assault on U.S. forces based in Pearl Harbor, Hawaii. In fact, on Sunday February 7, 1932 a small force of two aircraft carriers and its destroyer escorts wiped out the United States fleet and all military air assets at Pearl Harbor in a war game designated “Fleet Problem #13”. 152 Fighters and dive bombers launched from a hidden carrier force, which had arrived off the coast of Oahu earlier that morning after hiding in a rain storm, dropped sandbags and flairs, figuratively sinking the ships at anchor in the harbor while also attacking the nearby aircraft. Initially deemed a win for the attacking force, the judges later rescinded the award because of complaints from the Navy the attack was unfair. Sunday was deemed an inappropriate day to attack the fleet at anchor. Rear Admiral Harry Yarnell, the qualified naval aviator who had led the attack force to such success, disagreed with the final ruling, claiming such an attack was exactly what a future enemy could do. The event was observed by those on Hawaii, including representatives of foreign consulates. It was also discussed in local reporting. Nine years later, the Japanese empire conducted the same attack, costing the United States many ships, thousands of men, and bringing the U.S. into the World War. Sometimes, what we may think is unfair is exactly what our opponent believes is needed.