Hase nodded innocently, glancing round and glimpsing a couple of bewildered but determined stares at the Russian spoken language, one from a Kriegsmarine sailor, his eyes scrutinising him intently with suspicion as the naval ensign stepped forward, indicating to a couple of his friends behind to follow, the regular soldiers joining him. Hase moved to warn the officer as Hausser looked back up at the chalked blackboard, speaking further, ‘We will have to wait a while in eastern Berlin perhaps, but then we will get a train to Krakow and all the way back to where we want to be...we can pick up the other two from the main field hospital there.’ He hesitated, briefly considering another possible route, the shrill whistle of a Reichsbahn departing train filling the hall from outside, more soldiers pushing through the doors into the hallway from the wide street outside. Pulling the full and heavy pack further up onto his back, the young commander glanced slowly around the other side of the hall, several small groups of grim fresh faced young recruits gathering together as they realised from their instructions that their new placements were similar, their conversations apprehensive as some stared down at the written order slips in their hands.
The Kriegsmarine sailor straightened next to Hase, his eyes narrowing in distain at the clean uniform, the man glancing round for his friends’ support as his face neared the soldier, ‘What unit are you from? Did I hear you speak Russian?’
Hase’s startled features flushed, a nervous shrug as he lowered his head, not knowing what the man had said, but becoming more apprehensive. The officer with his back to him stiffened, shaking his head in annoyance as he heard the tone and understood what was happening, his eyes remaining on the chalked timetable above.
The naval soldier in his early twenties pursed his lips, two youthful Wehrmacht soldiers gathering behind encouragingly as his tone became menacing, his finger prodding the soldier in the chest, ‘Russian scum…the traitorous actions of these men and our weak allies have created the situation in the east!’
Hausser spun round, aware of his friend’s rising nervousness, his tone escalating in frustration and anger, ‘This is a loyal soldier of the Reich and has full travel documentation…’
A couple of older soldiers joined the group facing Hausser and Hase, one narrowing his eyes in distain, the other raising his voice, more soldiers turning, a couple of local elderly residents edging away with concern. The naval soldier stepped back slightly in hesitation, the older man behind adding his own opinion, ‘Why is he in Berlin? He should be at the front...this is why we lose men.’ His voice rose further in self-perpetuating anger, ‘Berlin is for Germans only...if he is a Russian, then he should not have the same privileges...these cowards should be kept facing the enemy!’ Several soldiers nodded, edging closer, Hase backing away and into his commander, a muffled voice from the back, ‘They could be deserters...call the chain-dogs!’
One of the Military policemen nudged forward in interest through the assembling crowd, another following his colleague, his hand rising for the attention of their superior. Hausser’s eyes widened menacingly, Hase jumping at the ferocity of his friend’s response, the officer’s escalating rage apparent, ‘Silence! I am a Leutnant in the 76th Infantry Division and this is one of my soldiers...’ Hausser pointed at the sailor accusingly, ‘...that is nothing but defeatism...we have just come from the Kharkov front where one of my men was killed, two wounded and another is missing...’
His eyes narrowed as the Kriegsmarine ensign glanced around nervously, the two younger Wehrmacht soldiers and surrounding others staring back defiantly, a stout military policeman raising his voice behind in irritation, ‘Let me through!’ The figures parted slightly, the silver gorget roaming into view as the man pushed past two more soldiers to stand in front of the Leutnant, his hands rising as furtive whispers rose around him, the group now over twenty strong surrounding them, ‘Stand easy...I will get to the bottom of this.’ He turned to Hausser, his voice becoming calmer as two more military policemen fought their way into the group, three more entering the station from outside with a great coated SS officer, the military policeman continuing, ‘I request your papers, Herr Leutnant...’ He turned abruptly to Hase, ‘…and you! We have no news of survivors from the 76th Infantry Division...its brave Potsdam soldiers fell at Stalingrad. Your uniforms aside, falsely claiming to be part of a unit that no longer exists is a criminal offence under military legislation.’
The whispers escalated as Leutnant Hausser reached for the paperwork in his breast pocket, indicating to Hase, his face solemn, but still flushed with anger, ‘This is my translator...I have his papers too.’
The voice came from behind the military policeman, ‘I will inspect those...now move to the side! That is an order!’ The assembled soldiers shuffled aside, a young grim faced SS officer forcing his way through towards them, the runes of his security division clear on the black collar, Hase swallowing hard as he glimpsed the white SS markings. The military policeman stepped to the side, bowing his head in respect, ‘Herr Major, these two are accused of desertion...they claim to be soldiers of the 76th Infantry Division...’
Hausser stiffened to attention, Hase and the others following his example as the leather great coated officer with peaked cap struggled through the last of the throng, his teeth gritted in irritation. Nodding to the military policeman, he stared at Hausser closely, seeming to examine his uniform and jacket with suspicion as the Leutnant retrieved his orders from his pocket.
The senior officer snatched the paperwork, another shrill train whistle echoing outside as he unfolded the instructions, reaching to his jacket pocket for some round reading glasses, the crowd seeming to wait in anticipation with baited breath as he spoke, ‘This is serious...’ His eyes scanned the page, widening as he read Major Wolff’s typed order, the divisional markings on the upper page as he drew breath, ‘Mein Gott...they tell the truth...they are from Stalingrad.’ He glanced up at Hausser and then Hase in surprise, reading aloud, ‘These two soldiers are extended a leave of absence from the front after not only serving continuously at Stalingrad, but also in the successful Charkow (Kharkov) operation...’ He turned and glared at the Kriegsmarine sailor and his two accomplices, his tone rising in distain, ‘This Leutnant is a decorated soldier and this is indeed one of his men...a translator apparently...highly valued at Grossdeutschland Division as it says here. They are due to return to Belgorod and the Eastern Front by the end of this month at the latest.’ He shook his head, his tone becoming official, ‘By my calculations, they still have nearly two weeks left of their leave from the front and it says here they have to collect two wounded Kameraden from a large rear field hospital in Kiev. That they will all return to full active duty at the division’s front once they arrive.’ He turned back to Hausser, ‘May I ask what decoration, Herr Leutnant?’
Hausser stiffened further, glancing across the assembled group nervously as he spoke, ‘Herr Major…I received a decoration for the brave efforts of my men…I was only fortunate to lead them at the time through coincidence only. They served their country well and most have probably fallen since…I believe the survivors of their unit were then deployed at Rzhev.’
The SS Major’s eyes lowered, his arm extending to the military policeman with the orders, ‘I understand Leutnant…never the less, I take these false accusations against you seriously…’ He glanced round in annoyance, ‘…I think it only best you advise these assembled soldiers of your recognition. They can then see the error of their ways and endeavour to commit themselves to the sacrifices that the Fatherland deserves…may I request…no, command that you to tell me your decoration and where it was earned.’
Leutnant Hausser glanced downwards, his face flushing slightly as Hase smiled faintly, partly understanding what was being said, the junior officer then looking up, beyond the assembled crowd of uniformed figures as he seemed to straighten, ‘The Iron Cross second class, Herr Major. Received after the battle at Cholm.’
The major swallowed, his eyes widening as he spoke softly
in astonishment, whispers sweeping across the crowd, ‘Herr Leutnant…this is indeed an honour. Such sacrifice in the field of battle and such concealment of your commitment to serve a greater Germany.’ His boots suddenly clicked together, a hand rising swiftly to his peaked cap, ‘I salute you for your bravery…’ Hausser’s eyes widened, Hase looking away as the group seemed to draw breath, the Major turning swiftly to the military policeman, ‘Arrest this sailor and his two Wehrmacht accomplices…they will face charges for false accusation and disrespect of a senior officer.’
Hausser stepped forward, his voice lowered to a whisper, ‘Herr Major…may I request this does not occur. They were only voicing their concerns…’
The major spun back, surprise on his face before a smile gradually formed across his lips, ‘Very well Leutnant…I will leave this matter for you to deal with…I expect a strict dressing down and will transfer them to a penal unit on the Russian Front if you so request.’ He indicated to the Kriegsmarine sailor, ‘What have you to say for yourself?’
The man was clearly nervous, his eyes bulging in fear as the policeman pushed him forward, his eyes dropping, ‘I-I am sorry, Herr Leutnant…I meant no disrespect…’ The two Wehrmacht soldiers shoved forward behind him roughly by other disgruntled members of the crowd.
His voice tailed off as Hausser moved closer, the officer’s eyes narrowing as he stared into their faces, the young commander speaking curtly and gesturing to his friend, ‘This soldier is in a German uniform and I owe him my life…we have both fought continuously in Russia since the beginning of the eastern campaign…what sacrifices have you made in the Kriegsmarine that will match his loyalty?’ He stepped back slightly, aware the crowd was slowly dispersing, then continued, glancing across the two Wehrmacht soldiers with irritation, ‘Which unit are you from and where are you stationed?’
One of the young soldiers bowed his head in shame, both stiffening as if being inspected, ‘We are new recruits, just finished basic training, Herr Leutnant.’ He swallowed deeply, glancing into the eyes of the military policeman, the older man grimacing in disapproval as he handed the travel documents back to the young officer, ‘We are off to Russia, Sir…Army Group North to join our assigned unit, Herr Leutnant.’
Hausser glanced back at the naval soldier, ‘And you…where are you going?’
The Kriegsmarine sailor grimaced, his body visibly shaking at the prospect of a penal unit perhaps even in Russia, ‘I-I have now been assigned to patrol boat duties on the French coast…Herr Leutnant.’
Hausser glanced at the major, the senior officer nodding for him to continue as he replaced his glasses back into his jacket, the junior officer speaking slowly to address the three men before him, ‘Then I suggest you stay alert…learn from the experienced soldiers around you and not dismiss them because of what you may think…they may save your lives.’ He hesitated, the soldiers nodding obediently before him as he indicated to Hase, ‘This man’s bravery and commitment matches those of the fallen I have served with. For that I owe him my gratitude and the lives of my men…I look on him as a comrade and our friendship as hope for the future.’ His eyes narrowed as steam from a locomotive engine swept suddenly into the hall, ‘You will learn at the front that nothing is at is seems…that several soldiers are more reliable than others and that some, just some, are more important to you due to their care for duty and comradeship…’
The soldiers nodded uneasily, the major interjecting, ‘Thank you Leutnant…I suggest you now proceed to your train. I will speak individually to these men before they depart.’ He smiled, ‘I feel they are soon to experience the war as you two men have…’ He indicated to his leg, ‘…I agree with your observations and have experienced them myself at the hands of the French and Russkies in the Pripet Marshes…they are a cunning enemy and do not forgive mistakes easily. My wound is deep from one of their bayonets, I can no longer run and was a trophy winner before the war. Such is sacrifice for the better good…’ He sighed, indicating to the three soldiers and pointing to the back of the hall, ‘…you three will join me for a private chat.’ His head turned to the military policeman, the man stiffening to attention, ‘Escort Leutnant Hausser and his interpreter to their train…ensure they secure places…and seats.’
The junior officer stiffened to attention, saluting formally as Hase followed suit, the major grinning and saluting informally back, ‘I wish you two soldiers a successful trip and hope we will meet again someday.’ He extended his hand to Hausser’s surprise, ‘I am Major Kepf…continue your efforts for us at the front, my friend. I feel the tide of war is turning back in our favour….’
The train whistle sounded shrilly, Leutnant Hausser glancing out of the dirt stained window and smiling fondly to himself, glimpsing the youths sat on top of the bridge ahead, the four boys and one girl flushed and grime covered, eagerly awaiting the train to pass underneath. Hase leant forward inquisitively from opposite him, both sat on wooden benches, the soldiers standing and seated round them whispering and staring across at the two figures after the incident in the ticket hall. The Hiwi coughed nervously, glancing at the figures around them, his voice lowered, ‘Hausser, may I ask what is so funny?’
The young officer shrugged, grinning at his friend as he looked briefly into his eyes, ‘I was imagining Udet up there as a boy…he loved trains so much when he was younger. That is one of the places he would have sat with his friends…this station was very busy during the Olympics.’
Hase nodded solemnly, shifting back on the bench and lifting his heavy backpack, ‘I thank you for bringing me to Berlin…this is the furthest I have ever been from Kiev and Russia. Your father and mother are really nice people and your customs strange and funny.’
The officer’s eyes strained in confusion, a grin extending across his shaved chin, ‘Strange? What do you mean?’
Hase raised his hand in defence, smiling warmly, ‘Well, not strange…I used the wrong word. Homely and to be cherished. The German habit or ritual of collecting warm milk every morning from a local churn, your love of bread, meat and vegetables…sauerkraut and those sausages with potato mix…very nice food.’ His eyes glistened as he glanced out of the window in embarrassment, ‘They made me feel very welcome even though I am possibly viewed as the enemy.’ He looked briefly across at the others in the car, several soldiers staring at them and whispering as he swallowed, ‘This trip has been very special for me…I do not know how you arranged a release for me from the front.’
Leutnant Hausser smiled, his own packed bag between his boots as he adjusted his cap in nervous response, clearing his throat, ‘My friend…you are part of my squad…and I apologise. We stopped briefly in Kiev before getting another train to Germany. I never thought about it then…my focus was on returning home and ensuring the other two were safe in the hospital.’ He sniffed with emotion as he noticed his friend’s head drop in embarrassment, ‘We have left early to ensure we visit your parents in Kiev before returning to the front. We will stay there for three days…the trains, fate…and partisans permitting.’
Hase glanced up excitedly, then frowned, his eyes filling with dread, ‘But I can never visit my parents in this uniform…the neighbours and local resistance will target them…they will face suspicion and hatred wherever they go.’ He leant forward once more, his voice lowering to an alarmed hushed whisper, ‘The occupying Germans cannot protect them, no matter what your people think and anything you can do.’
The young officer smiled comfortingly, a whistle sounding outside, the train shunting forward as standing soldiers grasped the overhead racks in instinctive response, ‘I understand my friend…I have considered this. I will visit them alone initially; see how they feel…do reconnaissance if you like to call it…then arrange for a meeting the next day. German soldiers will arrest them if I can arrange it…then you can meet them and be together. I will organise additional food to be supplied for them and the neighbours if I can through local traders.’ He leant forward nervously, ‘Do you appr
ove?’
Hase shook his bowed head morosely and in defeat, the train gathering speed, ‘Not food supply…word will get out no matter what you try.’ His eyes suddenly lit up in rising excitement as he looked back up at his commander, ‘But a meeting would be welcome…’ His eyes glistened emotionally and in reflection, ‘…I have not seen them in nearly two years, they probably think I am dead.’
Behind the speeding Reichsbahn locomotive and its carriages, soldiers waiting on the platform and civilians in the streets looked up suddenly into the grey sky, low sirens beginning to whine across the neighbourhoods, the binoculars of anti-aircraft gun batteries rising to the west of the city apprehensively.
Chapter One: Late Evening April 9th, 1943
The dishevelled figure shivered in the darkening bushes, water droplets falling from the branches above onto the frayed and dirt smeared padded grey uniform, the stains of sleeping rough and hiding in deep undergrowth clear across the worn and faded fabric. Physically, the human frame had lost over a stone in weight in the last month, the face gaunt and lined with mud, thick dark lines under the man’s eyes, his now haggard features still profound but etched with worry and stress.
For nearly three and a half weeks he had roamed behind the Russian lines, sometimes choosing an isolated soldier as prey, on other occasions even joining with small patrols before despatching them and their leader. Vengeance and hatred had driven the almost broken man, his eyes a cold vision into his soul as he confronted soldier after soldier. His original weapon long since disposed of, he now possessed two TT-30 Togarev pistols and his bayonet, a Mosin Nagant sniper rifle slung over his back, the weapon taken from another victim he had hunted for three days, slowly and patiently nearing the rifle cracks as the Russian sniper claimed ‘kills’ across the German line in the distance.
Bloody Citadel Page 3
