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Jeeps. Then Came Richardson's Jeep And Three Shermans Stripped Of Equipment And Riders. Behind Them Were Seventeen Shamans Loaded With Infantrymen And Three Big Pershings With Their Great 90-Mm, Guns. Next Came Richardson's Staff, A Battery Of Self-Propelled Guns, Seventeen More Sherman Light Tanks And A Long Line Of Trucks Filled With Men, Ammunition And Food. It Was A Mobil, Battle Tested Force. And In Spite Of General Exhaustion, almost Everyone Was As Eager As Richardson Himself. Little Happened All Morning As They Raced North In Column. At Noon They Knocked Out A German Passenger Train With out Stopping. Then Rolled Through Several Peaceful-Looking Military Installations. When They Finally Came To A Roadblock Richardson Simply Smashed Through, Using The Lead Tanks Like Battering Rams.
       Just Before Dusk Richardson Checked His Speed0meter; It Had Already Clocked Seventy-Five Miles. But Fog Was Rolling In And His Radioman Could Make No Contact. There Was Only One Thing To Do. Push On. Entering Brilon A Few Minutes Later, Richardson Received A Radio Order From The Division Commander, Major General Maurice Rose. Task Force Richardson Was To Clear Brilon. Richardson Acknowledged The Message, But As Far As He Was Concerned He Was Still Going To Follow Howze's Orders, So He Kept Going. Paderborn Was More Than Thirty Miles Away And He Didn't Yet Know Which Route To Take. He Went Ahead With A Few Vehicles To Find The Best Road, And Sent The Main Body Into Brilon To Make A Cursory Investigation.
       It Was More Than An Hour Before Richardson Learned From A Civilian That A Good Road To Paderborn Was Just Ahead, But It Was Now Dark And Foggy And Someone Would Have To Walk Ahead And Lead The Column. He Had Just Started To Get Out Of His Jeep To Do The Job Himself When He Heard The Main Body Catching Up At Last He Wondered What Had Kept Them So Long At Brilon. A Young Lieutenant, A Platoon Leader, Leaped From The First Tank And Hustled Up To Richardson Through The Gathering Darkness.
       "Follow Me," Said The Colonel, And They Started To Walk Down The Road. Richardson Noticed The Lieutenant Was So Scared That His Face Looked White In The Gloom. He Didn't Blame Him.
       The Tank Lights Shielded By Blue Tissue, Rumbled Behind. Getting Closer And Closer, Richardson Walked Faster But The First Tank Kept Gaining On Him. When It Nudged Him In The Back, He Jumped Aside And Jogged Across The Road Into The Ditch. Like A Faithful Dog, The Tank Followed Richardson Into The Ditch. He Scrambled Back On The Road And Waved His Flashlight Frantically, But The Tank Continued To Bear Down On Him, Now He Could See The Second And Third Tanks Wobbling Back And Forth In A Clumsy Effort To Follow The Leader. And Just Behind He Saw The Dim Mark Of A Red Cross. What The Hell Were His Ambulances Doing Up Front? Finally. In Answer To His Signals, The First Tank Stopped With A Lurch. There Was A Loud Clank As The Second Tank Banged Into The Rear Of The First And, A Moment Later, Two More Metallic Thuds. Richardson Shouted Angrily At The Driver Of The First Tank, And Turned To The Platoon Leader." What The Hell Happened To The Tank Commander?"
       The Shaken Lieutenant Climbed Up To The Turret Of The Tank And Looked In. "Something's Wrong!" He Called." There's Champagne All Over The Floor Of The Tank."

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