Zielona Góra, Poland
Thursday, October 18, 1635
Captain Casper Havemann of Charlie Company, 20th Battalion, the Hangman Regiment edged a little higher over the debris at the end of the street his company had just cleared. Beyond was open ground. That did not bode good if they had to cross it. He turned to his second in command. "See anything you like?" he asked.
Lieutenant Joachim Schultz shook his head. "It is quiet, Captain. Too quiet."
Casper reached out towards a windowsill for some wood to tap. His hand did not make it before all hell broke loose.
BOOOM! BOOM! BOOOM!
There were, also, rifle rounds intermixed with the Polish cannons that had suddenly opened fire. Casper dropped to the ground, covering his helmeted head with his arms as he lay there.
There was a crash, and the side of the building beside them started to collapse. Several bricks fell onto Casper, and he tried to roll clear. He did not make it.
He regained consciousness to find two men trying to drag him clear of the rubble. The cannons were still firing, as were the snipers.
One of the men trying to help him fell, and Casper found himself nose to nose with the lifeless face of Private Huber. Meanwhile, even as bullets hit the rubble around them, someone else was still trying to pull him free.
"Leave me! Save yourself!" Casper ordered.
"I'm not leaving you, Captain," Private Mattias Amsinck said as he finally hauled Casper free of the rubble that had covered him and dragged him behind cover.
Casper rolled round to look at where he had been. Private Huber's body marked the spot. He could see a foot sticking out of the rubble. It could belong to either Lieutenant Schultz or the signaler, Corporal Neumann. It was not moving. Nothing in the pile of rubble was moving. Just like that, in the twinkling of an eye, three men had died. He looked back down the street his company had just cleared. It appeared deserted, as everyone had taken cover when the Poles opened fire.
There was a shudder as a cannon ball hit the rubble they were hiding behind. Other cannon balls bounced over their position. It was becoming untenable, but there was no way Casper could retreat on his own, and Private Amsinck, for all his courage, would be hard-pressed to carry him to safety.
"Go! Get to safety. That's an order!"
Mattias shook his head. "I'm not leaving you, Captain."
Casper swore.
He was so distracted he did not hear anyone approaching until the slap of hobnailed boots on cobblestones changed to a screech as Sergeant John Trelli of the military police patrol that had attached itself to his company slid feet-first right up to them.
He stared in silent amazement as Sergeant Trelli emptied a haversack of grenades and started lobbing them over the rubble they were hiding behind. He realized why Trelli was doing it when the first wisps of dense white smoke drifted over them.
As the smokescreen grew, Sergeant Trelli got to his feet and hauled Casper up across his shoulders. The jarring of his head as Trelli started running was too much for Casper, and he sank into unconsciousness.
****
Casper glanced over his shoulder as Private Amsinck and Private Kuhn helped lead him and the rest of the wounded back to a better defensive position. What he could see amazed Casper. Sergeant Trelli, a Military Policeman, had taken over effective command of his company. Not just the men, but also the officers were following his orders as he directed a fighting withdrawal.
****
A few days later
"How are you feeling, Captain?" Corporal Georg Schlegel asked as he dropped a bundle of files onto Casper's bed.
Casper stared at the numerous folders. "I was starting to feel better before you reminded me about real life."
Corporal Schlegel nodded energetically. "Yes. Yes. Captain. I have made some notes for the after-action report you will need to prepare." He handed Casper several sheets of typed notes pinned together.
"Why?" Casper demanded. "I hate writing after action reports." He shuffled further up his bed until he was sitting, resting his head against the wall. "They're a curse upon all real soldiers." Corporal Schlegel was still handing out his notes, so he grabbed them.
"They are only necessary on special occasions, Captain," Corporal Schlegel said.
Casper glared at Corporal Schlegel. "And what was so special about our latest little encounter with the enemy?"
Corporal Schlegel pointed to the papers in Casper's hand. "If you would just read my notes, Captain, all will be revealed."
Casper gave Corporal Schlegel a final glare before settling down to read. Sheet after sheet of paper dropped to the blankets as he read. As he neared the end, he looked up. "Sergeant Trelli really managed to get the company back without additional fatalities?"
"Four carried and eight walking wounded, but still only three dead," Corporal Schlegel confirmed. "It was the most masterly of fighting withdrawals, and a complete shock that an MP sergeant could display such leadership."
Casper whistled. He had feared that the casualty list would be considerably worse.
Corporal Schlegel handed Casper three handwritten letters of condolence. He dropped the last pages of Corporal Schlegel's notes unread as he accepted the letters. They said exactly what he would have said if he had dictated them himself, which was not surprising, because he had, unfortunately, already dictated too many similar letters to Corporal Schlegel in the past. He put them to one side to be signed later and waited for Corporal Schlegel to move onto his next order of business.
"Next, we have recommendations for decorations." Corporal Schlegel opened a folder and handed Casper some Form 8s. "Recommendations for the Purple Heart.'
Casper winced before he started to read them. He was not sure he approved of giving people medals just for getting wounded. The three men who died when he was injured were there. Private Amsinck was there. Even he was there. But one name he expected to see was missing. "What about Sergeant Trelli?"
"He wasn't injured, Captain."
Casper stared at Corporal Schlegel. "The man charges into a kill zone to rescue me and Private Amsinck, and he emerges without a scratch? How is that possible?"
"I don't know how he managed it, not with the amount of fire the Poles sent into the smokescreen he generated with those grenades, but he did."
Casper nodded, and immediately regretted doing so as his head ached in response. He blinked a few times as he recovered. "Huber deserves at least a Silver Star. Amsinck deserves a kick up the butt for not following orders and clearing out while he had the chance."
"I'll start the process to recommend both of them for the Distinguished Service Cross then," Corporal Schlegel said as he pulled out another sheet of paper for Casper to sign.
Casper glanced over it to check what it said. "What are their chances?" he asked as he added it to the pile accumulating on his bedside table.
"Pretty good," Corporal Schlegel said. "They were certainly acting gallantly, and Private Huber's death while trying to dig you free is clear evidence that they were putting their lives at risk." He nodded. "It would be a harsh decision of the Decorations Review Board to deny them the Distinguished Service Cross."
"What about the Medal of Honor?"
Corporal Schlegel licked his lips before answering. "That would probably be pushing it, Captain."
Casper did his best to shrug, but his bruised and abused body protested, leaving him to grunt before settling back against the wall. "Nothing ventured, nothing gained. Put in a recommendation for both of them."
Corporal Schlegel rolled his eyes. Still, he made a note. "I'll need to collect witness statements to support the nominations."
"You do that." Casper eyed the bundle Corporal Schlegel still carried. "Meanwhile, what's next?"
Corporal Schlegel sorted out several papers from the parent bundle and started handing them to Casper. "Form 8s for Sergeant Trelli and his patrol recommending that they be awarded the Einsatzmedaille Gefecht . . ."
Casper grimaced as he accepted the forms. The new Combat Medal was a contentious compromise between what the up-timers were used to and the realities of war down-time. A lot of old-school officers did not see the point in giving soldiers an award just for being involved in combat. That was, after all, their job. The attempt to introduce the up-time Combat Infantry and Combat Medic badges had been dropped in favor of an all-arms combat medal, to be awarded only to personnel actively engaged in combat, or in the case of soldiers not normally engaging in combat, such as of medics, performing their assigned tasks while battle raged on around them.
"Sergeant Trelli and his patrol are a perfect example of why we need the Combat Medal, Captain," Corporal Schlegel said.
Casper glared at Corporal Schlegel. It went without saying that the captain had been a member of the old school that had opposed the new combat award.
"It will make their job a lot easier," Corporal Schlegel pointed out.
Casper sighed. Unfortunately, Corporal Schlegel was right. One of the major causes of conflict between MPs and soldiers was the perception that they avoided combat. Wearing the black, yellow, and red ribbon with an embroided "G" on it on their uniforms would not appease everyone, but the simple response of "Zielona Góra" to the demand of where they earned "that" would silence most would-be antagonists.
"Just give them to me," Casper muttered. Needless to say, Corporal Schlegel was a vocal advocate for the new award.
Casper skimmed through the forms It did not take long as, other than the individual identifying facts, everything else was the same. "Do I have to do anything?" he asked.
Corporal Schlegel reached over and pointed to a box on the top form. "Just sign it there as the recommending officer."
"What happens to them after that?"
"They have to be endorsed by Sergeant Trelli's commanding officer. We send them up our chain of command. They'll send them over to Captain von Frankenberg so they can be endorsed before handing them over to Colonel Higgins for approval."
"He can do that?" Casper asked. "I mean, I thought approving officers had to be at least a colonel, and according to General Stearns, Higgins is a lieutenant colonel—whatever that is."
"With an independent command that reports directly to General Stearns," Corporal Schlegel pointed out. "I think that it can be assumed that General Stearns has delegated authority equivalent to that of a full colonel to Colonel Higgins."
Casper silently conceded he might have walked into that one. "Next order of business," he prompted.
Corporal Schlegel passed Casper a thick folder with Sergeant John Felix Trelli's name on it. "I have prepared a Form 8 recommending Sergeant Trelli for the Imperial Medal of Honor for you to sign."
Casper whistled. "Aiming high. Not that I object," he added hastily. "What are his chances?"
Corporal Schlegel shrugged. "The fact he survived unscathed may be an issue."
"He can't be held responsible for how badly the Poles shoot."
"True," Corporal Schlegel conceded. "However, the only Medal of Honor to be awarded so far was the posthumous award to Hans Richter. That creates a rather high bar."
****
A few days later
Captain Georg Friedrich von Frankenberg, commander of the 4th Military Police Company, sat at the dining table he had requisitioned as a desk in one of the few structures in Zielona Góra that was still standing. In his hands, he held a copy of a recent issue of the Grantville Times. He was staring at the front-page photograph, trying to imagine what it must have been like on the streets of Zielona Góra shortly after the Poles launched their counterattack. It was a powerful image. It showed a man coming out of the smoke carrying a wounded man over his shoulder whilst he helped another man to safety. One could see in their eyes that they felt they were close to safety.
A noise had him looking up. It was his second in command, and in his hands were a couple of service messenger envelopes. "What've you got there?" he asked.
"Special delivery from the Hangman Regiment," Lieutenant Heinrich Diefenthaler said as he approached. "A messenger just brought them in."
Georg placed the newspaper to one side before clearing an area of his desk. "What's in them?"
Heinrich unwound the strings holding the thinner envelope closed and checked the contents. "Forms of some kind." Pulled out a handful and dropped the envelope onto the table while he looked at them. "Number eights." He flicked through them. "It looks like the Hangman Regiment wants to award Combat Medals to all of the MPs who got caught up in the fighting in Zielona Góra."
"That sounds perfectly reasonable." Georg turned his attention to the other envelope. He glanced at the newspapers he had been reading, and then back at Heinrich. "Well! Don't keep us in suspense. Open it!"
Heinrich stuck his hand into the envelope and pulled out a manila folder . He looked at the cover and smiled. "I think this might be what you've been waiting for, Captain."
"What have they nominated Trelli for? Have they gone for the Medal of Honor?"
Heinrich flicked the folder open and read the first page. A few seconds later he looked up, smiling. "Yes."
Georg held a hand out for the file. "Give it here!"
Heinrich ignored Georg's outstretched hand as he continued reading. "Sergeant Trelli has been recommended for the Imperial Medal of Honor by Captain Casper Havemann." He pointed to a blank spot on the form as he passed it to Georg. "It needs to be endorsed by Sergeant Trelli's commanding officer."
Georg dropped the folder to his desk. "Me?" he asked, tapping his chest.
"You, Captain."
Georg looked from the folder, still lying closed in front of him, to the newspapers on his desk. They were from Grantville and Magdeburg, and their front pages all sported the same photograph. One of Sergeant John Felix Trelli running out of a cloud of smoke carrying Captain Havemann of the Hangman Regiment over his shoulders while helping another soldier limp to safety. It was a photograph that was already inspiring people to demand that Trelli be awarded the Medal of Honor. He looked up at Heinrich. "I hope he did more than just recover a wounded officer."
It took three hours to read all the information in the folder. Georg passed Heinrich the last page and settled back in his chair and waited for him to finish reading.
Minutes later, Heinrich laid down the last page and looked up. "I would say that Sergeant Trelli did a little more than just recover a wounded officer."
Georg nodded. "I think it is safe to say that Sergeant Trelli has a very good chance of being awarded the Medal of Honor." He flipped open his inkwell and dipped his steel-nib pen in it. It was the work of a few seconds to enter the details to endorse the recommendation of Sergeant John Felix Trelli for the nation's highest award for bravery. He put it to one side for the ink to dry. "Who do we forward it to?" he asked.
"I think it goes straight to a decorations committee for consideration."
"You'd better check. It wouldn't do to send it to the wrong authority."
****
A little-used meeting room in the Imperial Palace in Magdeburg
January, 1637
Colonel Friedrich von Brockenholz, the commanding officer of the USE Marine Corps, walked into the meeting room. He smiled when he saw that he was the first person to arrive—just as he had planned. He led the Adjutant General Corps corporal who was carrying his files to a seat near the head of the table that backed onto the windows that overlooked Hans Richter Square. He directed the corporal where to lay his files before allowing him to leave. With the room to himself, Friedrich walked around.
He paused in front of the painting of Hans Richter's final moments—the act for which the man was awarded the Imperial Medal of Honor. He screwed his nose up at the painting. Not that he had anything against the painting, but if it had been up to him, he would not have approved the award.
He moved around to the fireplace. Standing on the mantlepiece was a medal display box. Inside was a replica of the Imperial Medal of Honor. It had a simple imperial purple neck ribbon, which was threaded through another ribbon of the same color from which a simple gunmetal cross bearing the image of a lion wearing the Imperial Crown was suspended. All up, the intrinsic value of the decoration was probably less than a hundred dollars. The value was in the perception of the award and it was his responsibility as a member of the first awards board to be convened since the establishment of the award to maintain the integrity of the Imperial Medal of Honor.
Friedrich's ruminating was interrupted by the sound of footsteps stopping outside the meeting room. He turned his attention to the door as the door handle moved, and then the enormous door was silently swung open. He did not know why he was surprised by the silence. This was, after all, the imperial palace, and one assumed only the best craftsmen would have worked on it.
A soldier in his early forties entered. "Von Brockenholz," Colonel Joachim Bassewitz, the commanding officer of Magdeburg's army garrison, muttered by way of a greeting.
"Colonel Bassewitz," Friedrich offered in an equally surly greeting. The two men did not particularly like each other. That came from Bassewitz being Army, while von Brockenholz was a Marine.
Over the next ten minutes, the rest of the board filed in. They covered all the services—Navy, Air Force, Army, and Military Medical Service. The last man, a colonel with the Army's Adjutant General Corps, entered. He paused at the door to look around. "We are all here. Good," Colonel Johann Almers said. He stepped to one side to allow stewards pushing a trolley to enter. In short order, a glass and carafe of water were placed beside each board member. They were, of course, placed on a placemat and not directly onto the table, which had previously graced the Christiania, the warship Hans Richter had destroyed with rockets.
Colonel Almers dismissed the stewards with the wave of a hand. That left the seven members of the awards board gathered around the table and his adjutant. Johann took the vacant chair at the head of the table and checked the clock over the mantle. As the clock chimed the hour, he started speaking.
"You all know why you are here." It was the most redundant of openings. "You must forget your personal allegiances and petty squabbles." As he said the words Johann let his eyes settle in turn on both von Brockenholz and Bassewitz.
Bassewitz pointed an accusing finger at von Brockenholz. "His men broke into my camp and painted a Marine unit symbol on my residence. I had to have the whole place whitewashed."
"You were going to whitewash the house anyway," von Brockenholz said. "Hey, if your base security had been all it was supposed to be, my men wouldn't have been able to get to your house, let alone tag it."
"Enough!" Almers roared. "I said you must forget your petty squabbles!" Almers glared at von Brockenholz and Bassewitz in turn. "Is that understood?" he demanded.
"Yes, Sir," both Von Brockenholz and Bassewitz said.
As they settled back in their chairs, von Brockenholz was tempted to poke his tongue out at Almers. However, that would have been extremely childish and ill-suited to the sanctity of the occasion. Instead, he resorted to bestowing a superior look befitting a Marine looking down his nose at a dogface.
Almers gave von Brockenholz a very dubious look before holding out a hand to his adjutant. The captain placed a folder in Almers' hand and he laid it on the table, opened it and read off the first name. "Private Thomas Clap, a soldier in the service of the army of Hesse-Kassel under the command of Landgrave Wilhelm V of Hesse-Kassel. For his actions at the Battle of the Warta."
There was an immediate outpouring of opinions from around the table. With so many people trying to make themselves heard, no one was being heard.
Von Brockenholz looked to Colonel Almers to see how he intended dealing with the rabble. He surprised him by pulling out an up-time-style referee's pea-whistle and blowing it, hard. Because he had been watching him, von Brockenholz managed to cover his ears before Almers actually started to blow. So he was able to watch and wonder at the efficacy of the whistle in relative comfort. It was much more effective than hammering away with the usual symbol of a chairman's authority, a small wooden gavel—unless, of course, said gavel was being hammered away on the miscreant's head. Which was what he would have been tempted to do.
With order restored, Almers gestured for von Brockenholz to speak. A couple of the others started to protest, but Almers silenced them by lifting his whistle to his mouth.
Bassewitz waited for Almers to lower his whistle before speaking. "I agree that Private Clap giving his life to save the lives of his fellow soldiers by smothering a live grenade with his own body was conspicuously gallant and intrepid. It was also beyond the call of duty and definitely deserving of the Imperial Medal of Honor.
"However, the regulations clearly state that only members of the USE armed forces are eligible for the award. That means Private Clap, deserving though he might be, cannot be awarded the Imperial Medal of Honor."
"I agree!" USE Air Force Colonel Eugene "Woody" Woodsill said.
Colonel James Flannery, USE Military Medical Service, raised a hand. "I'm with Colonels Bassewitz and Woodsill on this. Private Clap was fighting as a soldier in the army of Hesse-Kassel and not the USE armed forces. Therefore, he is not eligible for the Imperial Medal of Honor."
"General Jackson. You look as if you have something you wish to say."
Von Brockenholz swung his head around to check out Frank Jackson. He was the up-time liaison officer for General Tortensson, and he did look as if he had something he wanted to say.
Jackson passed his eyes over the other two up-time board members before settling on Bassewitz. "Is the Landgraviate of Hesse-Kassel part of the USE?"
"Of course," Bassewitz said. He was clearly offended at the inanity of the question. And then he stared hard at Frank. "Are you suggesting that state military should count as part of the armed forces of the USE?"
"Not just state military, but even community militia. Depending on who they are fighting," Jackson said. "And, at the time, the forces of the landgraviate were fighting an enemy of the USE, while under the overall command of the emperor."
"You're only saying this because you're a general in the SoTF National Guard!" Bassewitz said.
The "discussion" progressed from there, as differing points of view were argued. No one came to blows, but Almers had to resort to his whistle several times to restore order. Finally, everyone seemed satisfied.
"Are we ready to make a decision?" Almers asked. He was rewarded with a sea of nodding heads. "Very well. All those in favor of approving the posthumous award of the Imperial Medal of Honor to Private Thomas Clap, please raise your hand."
Hands rose.
"Is there anyone who feels Private Clap should not be posthumously awarded the Imperial Medal of Honor?"
When no one responded, Almers turned to his adjutant. "Record that, after due consideration of all the facts, it is the opinion of this awards board that Private Thomas Clap, while serving as a soldier in the service of the army of Hesse-Kassel under the command of Wilhelm V landgrave of Hesse-Kassel, did perform actions at the Battle of the Warta of conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty deserving the award of the Imperial Medal of Honor."
Colonel Almers' final words were followed by a solemn silence. A silence that he broke the moment the adjutant finished transcribing his words. "The next case I wish the board to consider is that of Anders Jönsson, who gave his life to save that of the emperor."
****
Three hours later, they stopped for lunch. Von Brockenholz grabbed the opportunity offered to make an urgent bathroom stop—with a guard as an escort.
He returned a few minutes later to find that several trolleys of food had been wheeled into the meeting room and arranged near a wall with stewards manning them. Friedrich had missed the initial feeding frenzy with his bathroom break, so there was no one slowing him down as he made his way along the lineup until he bumped up against Frank Jackson at the dessert trolley. "What's good?" he asked.
"The apple is particularly good today, Colonel von Brockenholz," a steward answered.
"Thank you." Friedrich indicated that he would like a large serving of the apple pudding.
"Cream?" the same steward suggested. He laid a hand on one of the pressurized cream dispensers made popular by the revitalizing cream industry. At Friedrich's nod, the man added a generous squirt of fluffy whipped cream.
Von Brockenholz turned around to find that Jackson had not moved away. "So, how do you think things are going?" he asked.
"Quite well." Jackson gestured for von Brockenholz to follow him back to the windows.
"One from seven is 'quite well'?"
Jackson lowered his tray onto the window ledge. It was a wide ledge, a side effect of replacing the old-style double-glazing, which had a foot or so between the inner and outer windows, with the much narrower form of the new style, where two windows were screwed together. "Did you think any of others met the criteria?"
Von Brockenholz placed his tray beside Jackson's and joined him in staring out upon Hans Richter Square. "Well, Anders Jönsson certainly did enough to get it in my opinion."
"So you said. Often." Jackson grinned. "Trouble is, the Imperial Medal of Honor is restricted to people serving in the military of the United States of Europe, rather than with the military. If he had been a USE citizen, or even in the process of becoming a USE citizen while serving as the emperor's bodyguard, things would have been different. As it is, the Distinguished Service Cross is as high as we can approve under the current legislation."
"So, you're happy with how things have gone so far?" von Brockenholz asked.
"Very happy," Almers said from just behind von Brockenholz's right shoulder. "I'm sorry. I could not help but hear what you were talking about."
Von Brockenholz waved a hand. "No need to apologize." He looked at Colonel Almers. This would be a good chance to ask something that had been bothering him. "Do you know why the board is only seven?" He gestured towards the table, which was obviously built for more.
Von Brockenholz nodded. "They were only able to save seven chairs from the wreck of the Christiania."
Friedrich patted the back of the nearest chair. "These came from the Christiania?"
Johann nodded. "Everything in this room came from her," he said, "Except for the painting of Herr Richter's final courageous act and the ribbons on the replica of the Imperial Medal of Honor. We wanted something from the Lossen, but nothing survived the magazine explosion."
Friedrich managed not to whistle as he looked around the timber-paneled room. "Talk about symbolism," he muttered.
That earned him a smile from Colonel Almers. "Please. Eat. The sooner everyone is finished, the sooner we can get underway again."
****
Lunch lasted forty-three minutes—by von Brockenholz's pocket watch. However, waiting for members of the board to return from their after-lunch visit to the bathroom added another fifteen minutes. So it was almost exactly an hour after Colonel Almers brought the morning session to a halt before he started the afternoon session.
He opened his folder. "Private Johann Huber, a soldier in the service of the USE Army's 20th Battalion, the Hangman Regiment. For his actions at the Battle of Zielona Góra."
During the morning session, the board had developed a simple way to get the ball rolling. When Almers finished speaking, hands went up. Pollice verso, the turned thumb—where the thumb was pointed upwards, was the sign they considered the recommendation to be dead in the water, dominated.
Von Brockenholz glanced around. It appeared that everyone agreed with him as he could not see a single pollices premere, or pressed thumb—where the thumb was pressed down on the fist, which would have indicated support for the recommendation.
"So," Almers said as he turned to his adjutant, "the board has decided unanimously that Private Huber's actions are not deserving of the Imperial Medal of Honor." He turned back to the board. "Would anyone like to make a case for a lesser award?
"Colonel von Brockenholz?" Almers prompted.
Von Brockenholz shook his head. "Private Huber's actions are about what would be expected in such a tightly bonded group. There wasn't anything truly deliberate about his actions. And I feel that an average soldier confronted by the same situation would have behaved exactly the same."
There were mutters of agreement from around the table.
Johann dipped his pen into the inkwell his adjutant provided and wrote on the Form 8 before passing it to his adjutant to blot. With his hands free, he picked up the next form. "Private Mattias Amsinck, a soldier in the service of the USE Army's 20th Battalion, the Hangman Regiment. For his actions at the Battle of Zielona Góra."
The show of hands replicated those for Private Huber. However, this time, Frank Jackson stepped up to justify making a lesser award. He settled back in his chair as he started to speak. "Although there are similarities between Private Huber's and Private Amsinck's cases . . .'
"Because they are both recommended for their actions at the same incident," Captain Bollendorf muttered audibly.
". . . there are also significant differences . . ."
"Private Huber died while Private Amsinck survived." Colonel Flannery said.
Frank smiled at James Flannery. "That is true, Colonel Flannery, but it is also the case that Private Amsinck refused to abandon his commanding officer. Even in the face of a direct order to do so." He looked around the board members before laying a hand on his notes. "Does that constitute an act of heroism so extraordinary as to set the individual apart from their comrades?"
"You're looking to downgrade him to a Distinguished Service Cross?" Bassewitz demanded. "When I proposed the DSC for Sergeant Pralle, you came back hammer and tongs saying that his actions barely qualified for a Silver Star."
"And that's all they did merit," Frank said.
Colonel Almers' whistle separated the two belligerents. "Time out!"
There was clear animosity there. Von Brockenholz leaned closer to Captain Markus Bollendorf. "Do they like each other or what," he whispered.
"Colonel Bassewitz has a real talent for making friends and influencing people," Bollendorf said.
It took a few seconds for von Brockenholz to realize that Captain Bollendorf was agreeing with him. When he did, he smiled at Bollendorf and the pair of them sat back and listened to the battle royal that raged between the two army colonels. Eventually Colonel Almers called for a vote. It was six to one to downgrade Private Amsinck's award to a DSC. After Almers challenged Bassewitz to explain why he disagreed, the decision became unanimous.
While Colonel Almers dictated the decision to his adjutant, von Brockenholz checked the last form in his folder. This one was the elephant that had been quietly sitting in the room all day.
"And finally," Johann Almers said, "we come to Sergeant John Felix Trelli. A soldier in the service of the USE Army's 4th Military Police Company. For his actions at the Battle of Zielona Góra, while assigned as leader of an MP patrol with the Hangman Regiment."
An uncomfortable silence filled the room. Friedrich imagined it had to be because no one really wanted to venture their opinion. Sergeant Trelli's case presented some interesting issues. Firstly, he was the first up-timer to be recommended for the Imperial Medal of Honor. Secondly, there was that photograph in the newspapers. That led to the third point; that there was active lobbying to have Sergeant Trelli awarded the Imperial Medal of Honor. And, finally, there was the fact that he performed a supposedly death-defying act of gallantry without suffering a scratch.
Friedrich knew, because he was a combat veteran, and because he had read a copy of the medical report, that the "without a scratch" bit was just typical media hyperbole. However, it was effectively true that Sergeant Trelli had come away from his act of gallantry no worse off than he had been when he decided to break cover and run to where Captain Havemann lay. How did you award the nation's highest award for courage and bravery to someone who wasn't even entitled to wear the Purple Heart when the only other recipient, or recipients if you counted Private Thomas Clap, died performing the deed for which they were awarded the Medal of Honor?
This time, the show of hands favored awarding the candidate the Medal of Honor.
"Colonel Woodsill?" Colonel Almers prompted.
Eugene "Woody" Woodsill cleared his throat. "The Imperial Medal of Honor is supposedly awarded to people who risked their life to perform some extraordinary deed, yet Sergeant Trelli performed his supposedly extraordinary deed without suffering a scratch. Lieutenant Richter died performing the deed for which he was awarded the Medal of Honor." Woody shook his head. "It doesn't seem equitable that Sergeant Trelli can be awarded the same medal."
"Sergeant Trelli cannot be held responsible for the inability of the Poles to hit him," Jackson said.
"He hid behind a smokescreen," Woodsill protested.
"So?" Captain Bollendorf asked. "Do the regulations for the Imperial Medal of Honor require that it only be awarded to stupid people? Not only was Sergeant Trelli smart enough to think of creating a smokescreen to cover the evacuation of the wounded, it is also clear evidence that his actions in rescuing Captain Havemann and Private Amsinck were deliberate. Would you have abandoned a relatively safe position to charge forward, into an area under intense gunfire, to rescue Captain Havemann and Private Amsinck?" Bollendorf challenged Woodsill.
"Certainly, no other man there that day was willing to do what Sergeant Trelli did," Joachim Bassewitz said.
"SLAM!"
The room reverberated with the sound of Frank Jackson slamming his hands onto the table. "You are all missing the point," he roared. "Sergeant Trelli hasn't been recommended for the Medal of Honor because he risked his life to save the lives of a couple of men."
Woodsill waved his copy of Sergeant Trelli's Form 8. "This seems to think otherwise."
Jackson sighed. "Read it properly, Woody. Other than establishing a connection with the soldiers, Sergeant Trelli's rescuing of Captain Havemann and Private Amsinck is largely irrelevant."
"Irrelevant?" James Flannery protested. "He risked his life to rescue two men."
Jackson waved a hand. "I'm not belittling that, but it isn't a particularly outstanding action." He looked around the table. "I'm sure most of us would like to think we would have done the same in the circumstances. Back when we were fit and strong, and thought ourselves invincible.
"What really stands out about Sergeant Trelli, what he did that is really above and beyond the call of duty is what he did after he turned Captain Havemann and Private Amsinck over to the company medics.
"Sergeant Trelli took over command of Captain Havemann's company. He then led them in a fighting withdrawal to a good defensive position. And once there, he encouraged the men to hold their position against multiple attacks by the Poles.
"Could you have done that?" Frank challenged Woodsill.
Woodsill shook his head. "Of course not. But then, I'm a pilot. What do I know about ground combat tactics?"
"And Sergeant Trelli is an MP," Frank said. He picked up a paper from his folder. "He graduated in '32 and went straight into the Military Police. Up until the battle for Zielona Góra, Sergeant Trelli had never seen combat. He hadn't even been on field maneuvers since he completed Basic Training."
Von Brockenholz whistled. The more he had heard, the more impressed he had become with Sergeant Trelli. "I doubt any of my Marine sergeants could have done what Sergeant Trelli did." He shook his head. "The rushing in to rescue comrades, that I can see a Marine doing. Leading a platoon? I can see that. But leading a company?" He shook his head. "Even for a Marine sergeant, that would be above and beyond the call of duty."
"According to the reports, Sergeant Trelli didn't fire a shot during the battle," Flannery said. "Is that significant?"
"No." Bassewitz's answer was uncompromising. "It is exactly what I would expect from an officer commanding a company."
"I agree with Colonel Bassewitz," von Brockenholz said. "To shoot at someone, you need to concentrate on your target. An officer cannot afford the distraction. It is . . ." he looked towards Jackson. "Is there an up-time phrase?"
"Loss of situational awareness," Jackson volunteered. "Anything can happen when you're distracted."
Silence reigned as the board absorbed what they had heard.
"Are we ready to make a decision?" Colonel Almers called out.
The heads around the table started to nod, and then, still with their heads nodding, hands were raised, with thumbs pressed.
Almers sat up straight. "Let us be very sure about this. In the case of Sergeant John Felix Trelli, a soldier in the service of the USE Army's 4th Military Police Company. For his actions at the Battle of Zielona Góra, while assigned to the Hangman Regiment." He looked around the table. "Are we all agreed that he should be awarded the Imperial Medal of Honor?"
Hands were raised. "Just to make doubly sure," Almers said. "Is there anyone here who thinks Sergeant Trelli should not be awarded the Imperial Medal of Honor?"
No hands were raised. He waited in silence for over a minute, just to be sure. "Then our business is complete." He turned to his adjutant and dictated the formal words of approval, and then he turned to the board. "I wish to thank you all for your efforts. And, please, remember that anything that took place in this room must remain confidential until after any formal announcement is made."
Almers passed his eyes over the board one last time before getting to his feet. The secretary, who had finished writing by this time, packed up his folders and he too stood. Together they advanced to the door. Almers knocked and, while he waited for it to swing open, turned to the board members, who by this time were all standing, and awarded them a brief nod of his head before he turned and walked out.
****
Imperial Medal of Honor
TRELLI, JOHN FELIX
Rank and organization: Sergeant USE Army, 4th Military Police Company
Place and date: Poland, 22 October 1635
Entered service at: Grantville, State of Franconia-Thuringia
Born: 13 May 1983, Fairmont, West Virginia
Citation:
For conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity in action at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty while serving as a military policeman with 4th Military Police Company, assigned to the Hangman Regiment, 3rd Division, in Zielona Góra, Poland, in support of the invasion of Poland on 22 October 1635. While under heavy fire MP Sgt. John Felix Trelli successfully completed a combat rescue of Charlie Company's commanding officer, who was wounded and nearly unconscious as a result of artillery fire and of company personnel wounded in the attempt of his rescue. Using smoke from his grenades as cover he effected the rescue and upon turning over the wounded to company medical personnel he arranged evacuation of all wounded to a secure position. Further upon discovery of the infantry company looking to him for leadership, he took effective command and conducted a fighting withdrawal while under heavy enemy fire, established the company into a strong defensive strongpoint, and repelled numerous enemy attacks until relieved. Sgt. Trelli's selfless heroism, indomitable fighting spirit, and extraordinary gallantry were directly responsible for Charlie Company's ability to hold their position and repulse the enemy. Sgt. Trelli's bravery at the risk of his life was in keeping with the highest traditions of the U.S.E. Army and reflect great credit upon himself and the armed forces of his country.
****