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Zusatztext “One of the best [books] on the war that I have read.” –Harry S. Truman “A blow-by-blow account that probably comes as close to the truth as history can hope to approach.” –The New York Times “An absorbing story . . . a great contribution to military history.” –General Matthew B. Ridgeway Informationen zum Autor Ken Hechler received a Ph.D. in political science from Columbia University and taught at Columbia College. He was commissioned as a second lieutenant in the U.S. Army during World War II and, after service in the European Theater of Operations, rose to the rank of major. He assisted President Roosevelt in the preparation of the thirteen-volume Public Papers and Addresses of Franklin D. Roosevelt. Hechler taught political science at Princeton, and later he accepted the post of special assistant in charge of research for President Truman. In 1958, Hechler became a congressman of West Virginia and served his state for eighteen years. Klappentext It was a stunning strategic victory of World War II-and one of the most fantastic breaks for the Allies. On March 7, 1945, a small group of American infantrymen, engineers, and tank crews secured the Ludendorff Bridge that crossed the Rhine. The successful mission saved thousands of American lives and spearheaded the invasion of Nazi Germany. The Bridge at Remagen is the detailed narrative of this surprising but crucial military action, one that stunned the German army. It is also the moving story of men who did not consider themselves heroes, but who performed magnificently under fire. In this amazing true story, Ken Hechler gives you the hour-by-hour account of brilliant military daring, human courage, and almost incredible luck that profoundly changed the course of the war. Leseprobe I. The News Comes to West Point, Nebraska March 7, 1945, was a busy evening at the Goldenrod Cafe in the wealthy little farm town of West Point, 75 miles northwest of Omaha, Nebraska. The school kids were just starting to pile into the booths along the edge of the walls for their evening round of milk shakes, and to take a couple of turns to the rhythm of the giant, rainbow-lighted jukebox. Above the chirp and chatter came the insistent ring of the telephone. To Bill Schafer, the pudgy, bald-headed proprietor of the Goldenrod Cafe, the telephone was a nuisance. It always rang when he was busiest. His cooks and waitresses were constantly interrupting their work to take calls. The biggest annoyance was the long-distance call, which took so much time to get through from Omaha during wartime, and usually resulted in elaborate efforts to shush the gayer customers at the Goldenrod. So when Schafer shuffled to the phone on the evening of March 7, 1945, he was in bad humor when the operator said with authority: "Long distance for Mrs. Mary Timmermann, Omaha calling." Schafer grunted uncomfortably: "Timmy, get this phone again. Make it short. You got lots of customers." An ample, middle-aged lady wearily placed a wet rag on the edge of a table and plodded across to the phone. She was a little afraid of telephones, because her broken English was hard to understand and she had some difficulty figuring out what the other person was saying. She was also afraid because her two oldest sons were fighting in Germany, her pretty daughter was in the WAC, and her youngest son was threatening to run away from home to join the Army before he was old enough. A long-distance call could mean trouble. Mrs. Timmermann, a German war bride from the first World War, had several brothers fighting in the German army in the second war. She was sick of war, sick of her back-breaking 11 a.m. to-midnight job at the Goldenrod, and jumpy and nervous about the safety of her sons and brothers who might be firing at each other at this very moment. She jabbered incoherently when a stern voice on the other end of t...
