Black Operations- the Spec-Ops Action Pack

by Eric Meyer

  “Have you heard of Stalingrad, Roth?”

  I didn’t like that sound of that question.

  “Industrial city on the Volga, yes, I’ve heard of it.”

  “Indeed. Army Group South has crossed the Don already, their next objective is the Volga and the oilfields of the Caucasus. The Fuhrer has ordered the attack on Moscow to be deferred and we’re to concentrate our efforts both here in the north and on the drive to the Volga in the south. That means we must take Stalingrad.

  “Are we moving the Battalion to join Army Group South?”

  “Not the whole Battalion, no. Just you, you’re taking your platoon to Stalingrad. Before the Army and the Luftwaffe pulverize the city a certain person in Berlin wants you to extract a certain valuable item from the city museum.

  “Reichsfuhrer Himmler?”

  “No, the Reichsfuhrer is not involved. But one of his assistants got drunk at an Air Ministry party and talked about that gold machine you retrieved from Soviet territory last year. They put in a direct request to Himmler and he had agreed that you can do something similar for them. Something very valuable, an artwork I believe, they want it brought to the Reich.”

  “So it’s for Reichsmarschall Goering.”

  Kurz nodded. “I believe so, yes. So don’t make any mistakes, between Goering and Himmler they’ll squeeze your nuts if you make any mistakes. And that’s before they hang you. You’ll need to move fast, they’ll move it east of the Urals as soon as our armies get any nearer, so you’ll just have to go in and get it before they do.”

  I knew that my luck would run out eventually. I didn’t want to be here, or in Stalingrad or anywhere else on the Eastern Front. I’d had enough of the perpetual cold and ice, of mud when it thawed, of Russians trying to kill me by day and night. I’d had enough of lice, squalor and filth, of lack of food and lack of sleep. I wanted to go to Pskov, collect Tamara, and then go somewhere safe, somewhere warm. The United States sounded good, but in the meantime I was serving out a sentence here in Sonderbattalion Kurz. KI wondered if I could get away. It was true it wasn’t a penal unit like the outfit I’d seen Hachmann in, those men were walking corpses and they knew it. I gave some thought to desertion, but even as I mulled the idea over in my mind, I suspected that they wouldn’t let me get away quite so easily. Kurz gazed at me, as if he was reading my mind.

  “Worried about this mission, Roth? Think you can’t pull it off?”

  I came alert, was I that obvious? “No, Sir, not at all.”

  “Good man. How is that pretty girl doing in Pskov, is she settling in well?”

  So he knew. “Yes, I believe she is, Sir.

  “Excellent. The Gestapo will keep an eye on her, of course. She’s from the Russian side of the lines, so they’ll want to know she’s not up to anything bad. I’m sure she isn’t, it’s just a formality.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Yes, unless I obeyed orders, they would find a way to punish me, directly or indirectly.

  “Is it any warmer in Stalingrad, Sir?”

  “Stalingrad in February? It’s wonderful, Roth. People go there for their holidays. It’s wonderful, swimming in the River Volga, sunning themselves on the beaches. Our troops can’t wait to get there.”

  “When do we leave, Sir?”

  “Soon, Roth, soon.

  I had one more task to take care of. I asked for and was given two days leave. To find Luftflotte 2, attached to Army Group South. I had promised to buy a round of drinks for Major Klempt and his two wingmen of Jagdgeschwader 27. Then it would be time to go to Stalingrad.