The Kaiserschlacht

In march of 1918, after a ceasefire with the Russians on the eastern front, the German Army shifted several divisions to the west and made an all-out rush for Paris Amiens, and the English Channel.
Here is an excerpt from ENEMIES:

March 19, 1918

Near St. Quentin, France
The defeat at Passchendaele was devastating, not only for Jürgen’s regiment, but the whole of Germany’s northern divisions. The 238th Infantry Battalion suffered more than fifty percent casualties. They were rested in a village east of Rouelers for a week, then entrained for the one hundred-fifty mile trip south to St. Benoite, a small town near St. Quentin. There they trained with replacements whose numbers were yet insufficient to produce a full regimental complement. What would have added up to shattered morale was buoyed by the news of victory on the Russian front.

Second Platoon had a new leader, Heinrich Lutz, a newly commissioned 2d Lieutenant, or feldweblelleutnant. Jürgen did not envy this man, not much older than himself. The army was massing for something big, and Lutz would be thrown into the thick of it. That his own new role of gefreiter increased his peril hadn’t hit home.
The code word “Michael” was rumored to be the big offensive that would drive the German army through to the English Channel, Paris, and victory. The official name heard was Kaiserschlacht, the Emperor’s Battle. After years of stalemate and false hopes, the thought was exhilarating.
Tonight they were enjoying sausage for dinner. It was the first real meal they’d known since Rouelers. Tomorrow, they were told, they would march to the line. That meant the attack would probably be the following morning. Earlier in the day, Jürgen had seen more artillery being put in place than ever before. It seemed the predictions of something big happening were coming true.
They would be part of the 18th Army, whose main objective was the city of Amiens, the major transportation center for the Allies. Everything traveling north and south went through Amiens.

~ * ~
From St. Benoite it was only a 5km march to Grugies, a tiny crossroads that had been a village before having the bad luck to be located yards from the front lines of The Great War. There was not a single building standing. The weather had reversed itself from a promising spring day to an overcast, cold mist.
They arrived at the trenches around 6 PM, having had only a modest breakfast of oatmeal doled out by a humorless mess staff. Dinner would be making do with their own rations. One of the new replacements, tall with curly brown hair, had a fire started with scarce firewood he had somehow wangled. He was holding an open can over the small flame. Jürgen was impressed with this clever conscript from Bremen. His name was Feldenhauer. What caught Jürgen’s attention was the man’s quiet acceptance; making the best of any situation. The fire was an example.
“Mind if I share, Feldenhauer?”
“Of course, Gefreiter.”
“Jürgen is fine. I haven’t really earned the title.”
Feldenhauer smiled. “Rudi.”
Jürgen held his open can of pork over the flame. Soon the fat sizzled, making the usually unpalatable contents smell surprisingly good.
“Where’s your home, Rudi?”
“Bremen.”
“Really?” Jürgen enthused. “I’m from a Neuhaus, just south of Cuxhaven; so close to Bremen, but I’ve never had the chance to go there.”
“Why the interest in Bremen? Hamburg is just as close, and more interesting.”
“Why, the competitions, of course!”
Feldenhauer frowned, shook his head. “Competitions?”
“Your Shützenfest! One of the best in Germany. What an honor to win there!”
Feldenhauer made a wry smile. “I suppose,” he said, but let the subject drop.
They watched the flames and ate their warmed rations.
“You have a trade, Rudi?”
“I worked at the brewery!”
Jürgen could see a spark of enthusiasm in his answer. “The Braueri Beck?”
“None other. I’m there three years. I’ll make it my career if I live through this. How about you?”
The question bothered Jürgen. He’d asked it of himself many times, wondering if he was good at anything besides shooting at targets. “I’ve no idea. More schooling is what I need, if I could find a way to pay for it. That isn’t likely. I’ll probably wind up working on the Oste, or if I’m lucky, the Elbe ferry.”
Feldenhauer waited a bit before saying, “If I wanted something, I wouldn’t let anything stop me. You only have one life. You have the power to either grab it, or accept what the world hands you. Figure out a way to go to whatever school you want.”
Jürgen supposed he was right. Wise words, but hard to put into practice.
“Frightened about tomorrow, Rudi?”
“Apprehensive,” he replied. “Too green to be scared. You?” Jürgen searched for something clever to put Feldenhauer at ease, but failed. "We have hundreds of thousands of men from seventy-two divisions ready to attack an unsuspecting enemy…but yes…yes, Rudi. I’m scared."

Jürgen searched for something clever to put Feldenhauer at ease, but failed. “We have hundreds of thousands of men from seventy-two divisions ready to attack an unsuspecting enemy…but yes…yes, Rudi. I’m scared.”