by Alan David
Sergeant-Major Leun had fifteen men in his assault group, and they all remained awake in the darkness, lying in positions which Leun himself had selected for them. There was a radio operator with them and he was in contact with the platoons and Company HQ. The night was starry and there were ominous flashes in the sky to the south. Bombs were falling upon some unknown target, making the ground shudder from time to time under the pounding.
Steine lay in the darkness, hugging his machine-pistol, his eyes never still, flitting across the area under his observation. Starlight glinted upon the water of the pool, and there were some natural night noises. But Steine never heard them with the conscious part of his mind. All his senses were attuned to pick up the unnatural sounds that would warn of partisan activity. He knew all about partisans. He had fought them in Poland and in Russia. They were vicious wolves who shot from ambush and stabbed from behind. A great many good Germans had fallen victim to partisan attacks, and massive operations had to be mounted against them to keep them in check.
He thought he had finished with partisans when they left Russia, but now Italy was out of the war and the Italians, who had not fought with all the determination one expected of them, were fighting a vicious war against their former allies: sabotaging supplies, destroying bridges and roads, ambushing truck-loads of men and massacring them. There was no end to it, and fighting partisans was not like regular warfare. Usually the first one knew of a partisan attack was when mines blew up trucks or machine-guns cut down unsuspecting troops taking a rest from the rigours of the front line.
Steine lay listening for unnatural sounds, but his mind was drifting along the usual avenue of thought. He had a one-track mind. No matter what was going on around him, he could think only of sex. He needed sex like an addict. The sex act relaxed him, soothed his fears and calmed his nerves. But in the months of fighting in the mountains flanking Monte Cassino he had only once managed to get his hands upon a girl. He gulped and clenched his hands at the memory of those few wild moments of lust. What he wouldn’t give to have a woman right now! It was rumoured that many women were with these Italian partisans, and Steine wished he could meet just one of them. He’d work off his accumulated lusts and passions before he killed her.
A slight movement to his left had him turning his head slowly, and he caught a glimpse of a coal-scuttle helmet on the head of a figure moving towards him. But he did not relax his vigilance. It would not be the first time a partisan had donned German uniform to get to close quarters. He called a challenge in a low voice and was immediately answered with the password. Still he did not relax, and watched his visitor until he could recognize Sergeant-Major Leun. His superior dropped flat at his side and they both lay for some moments looking around at their surroundings.
‘Seen anything?’ Leun demanded after a few moments of uneasy silence.
‘Nothing, sir. All is quiet. I think we’re wasting our time here. If there are partisans in the area then they would have been watching during daylight and would have seen the Division coming in. They won’t try to sneak in for water. I’m not saying they won’t attack us, but they won’t be foolish enough to try to sneak in here.’
‘I’m inclined to agree with you, but our function is to be ready to move out against any attack anywhere within the Company area. Keep your eyes open, and pass word to me if you see anything.’ Leun departed silently, moving with considerable experience over the rough ground.
When the Sergeant-Major had gone, Steine heaved a long sigh. The boulders, olive bushes and trees, with some stunted pines, conspired to block his view: there were too many places where a skulking enemy could find cover. But he was a veteran, and had been in many such positions in the past. He kept sharp watch, using his ears as well as his eyes.
Towards midnight there was the sound of shooting from the right. Steine saw tracers flashing among the rocks. The disturbance was in front of Reinfeld’s platoon, and Steine prepared to move out. The platoon had been ordered to fire only if they were attacked and to hold their fire even if they saw unidentified figures. The next instant Leun was calling them stridently, urging them up, and they moved out swiftly in the direction of the shooting, which was now dying away.
Leun gripped his machine-pistol and trotted across the wild ground. He had made a close study of the area during daylight and knew every patch of scrub and where the inaccessible places were. He had pin-pointed tracks, which would have to be used by partisans on the move, and now he headed for the place which he fancied the partisans who had been fired upon from Reinfeld’s position would use for their retreat. Perhaps they had not expected such intense defence by troops resting after a tour of duty in the front line, but they could not be expected to know that these troops were of SS Division Vaterland.
The radio operator called to Leun when they halted and reported that Reinfeld’s platoon had opened fire on about twenty partisans, some of whom had returned fire before withdrawing. Leun nodded, certain that the path he had selected was the one the partisans had used. If they had not pulled right back immediately, Leun figured, then an ambush set along its tortuous route would pay good dividends.
But a machine-gun chattered defiantly as he led the men in front of Reinfeld’s platoon. They went to ground instantly, and Leun, an expert with grenades, pulled one from his left boot, armed it, then hurled it through the night with unerring accuracy. The sharp flash and instant explosion shattered the returning peace, hurling the machine-gun and its crew into the air.
Aware that it would be impossible to set an ambush now, Leun yelled for the men to follow him and started up the path. A grenade exploded somewhere to his right and he heard shrapnel whizzing through the darkness. He clenched his teeth and dropped into cover. The bastards were well organised, and, no doubt, the weapons they were using had been stolen from Germans. He looked around, trying to balance the odds, but he knew it would be folly to try and pursue these people through the night. They had the advantage of knowing the ground intimately, and Leun had no intention of losing men in such an action. There would be plenty of time when daylight came to track down partisans. They had to be hiding somewhere in this area.
He ordered the men to pull back, and an uneasy silence returned. When they were clear of the area he contacted HQ with the radio, and Eckhardt ordered him to return to his former position. The men grumbled as they did so, for they were all keen to get to grips with the partisans.
The night passed slowly. At dawn the assault group dispersed, the men returning to their own platoons. After breakfast the platoons were formed up and Eckhardt held an Orders Group, allocating areas to be searched to individual platoons, each area forming a block of sectors on the map. They were to search for caves and camps, and any partisans discovered were to be shot on sight.
The platoons moved out with scouts in advance of the columns. Reinfeld’s platoon entered a gorge high on the slope overlooking a road that ran north to south which had been the target of numerous partisan attacks. Even as they moved forward through the rocky ground supply trucks roared along the road, some carrying supplies and replacements to the hard-pressed German armies in the south.
Sergeant Steine looked forward to the day’s action. Gone were the tensions of the front line. Soon they would be going back to Germany. A soldier in war did not look too far ahead. But his future held the promise of women, and he was eager to get to grips with the opposite sex.
The platoons were divided into sections, and moved out along prearranged routes. There was a systematic pattern to their search: the whole area would be turned over thoroughly. It was hard going in the rugged countryside, and most of them longed to get back to base. They were not interested in partisans, feeling that the job of hunting them should be given to the back-area troops and field police.
Steine led a section along the gorge and began to climb towards a gaping cave-mouth that stared impassively at them. He did not expect to find it occupied. It was too obvious. But he took the precaution of having Sieber�
�s MG42 in position to cover them. Away to the left, in another valley, a sudden drumroll of machine-gun fire reverberated, and Steine’s eyes glinted. He liked nothing better than shooting partisans.
When they reached the cave Steine threw a grenade inside, then sent three men rushing in to check. They emerged, coughing and spluttering from the fumes of the explosion, to report there was no sign of recent occupation. Steine nodded and they continued. There were partisans around here, he knew. He could practically smell them.
Most of the men treated the search operation as a day’s outing. They had faced hell in the front line for months, had fought in one of the most tenacious battles of the entire war, and they were not concerned about partisans. Steine’s only interest was in women prisoners, and when they had finished eating and were preparing to move on again he cautioned the half dozen men with him.
‘If we spot any partisans make sure they’re men before you fire. If there are any women around I want them taken prisoner.’
‘You know the orders, Sergeant,’ Corporal Sieber protested.
‘Of course I know the orders, Dummkopf! I will personally shoot any prisoners we take. But if there are women then they have other uses that cannot be ignored. They will be shot later. Or is there no red German blood running through your veins, Sieber? Do you make love to your precious machine-gun every night, hein?’ Steine laughed with the rest of the men, for they all knew how zealously Sieber cared for his MG. But they were thankful that he was in their section with the weapon for Sieber was the best machine-gunner in the German Army.
Sieber smiled and shook his head. ‘I could use a woman as much as the next man, Sergeant, but if we disobey orders we will pay for it, and if we are going back to Germany shortly then I want a chance of some leave.’
‘We are not going to disobey orders,’ Steine argued fiercely, his eyes glinting as he imagined getting hold of a female prisoner. ‘We will kill all partisans but women will not die immediately. They will have about ten minutes grace. Hell, we’re fought our balls off since coming to Italy. We’re entitled to something now, aren’t we?’
There was no reply and they went on slowly, checking their sector carefully. They were too experienced not to do a good job. But Steine was giving up hope of locating the enemy until Sieber attracted his attention to a gully which they had almost passed without noticing.
‘Looks like someone’s been through here, Sergeant,’ Sieber reported. ‘There’s a footprint in the dust.’ His dark, machine-gunner’s eyes missed nothing.
‘Watch it then,’ Steine said harshly, shifting his machine-pistol to the ready position. ‘Spread out and keep your eyes open. Shoot first and ask questions afterwards. Anyone in this area has got to be a partisan.’
He led the way into the gully, which was barely wide enough to permit a man elbow room. But after a few yards it twisted sharply and widened, and there was a path reaching up crookedly through the grey rocks and bushes. The path ended upon a shelf and did not continue beyond. Steine could not see what was on the shelf, but a path that led nowhere was significant in country like this.
‘Follow me and keep spread out,’ he warned, easing back his helmet and wiping sweat from his broad forehead. His hands were suddenly shaking, not from anticipation of action but because there might be a woman, and he moistened his dry lips, his nerves taut, his reflexes ready to send him into action.
He started up the slope, leaning forward to counteract its steepness, and there was an urgent eagerness inside him. Halting when his head was level with the shelf where the path ended, Steine caught his breath when he saw a clump of bushes screening the mouth of a cave. He nodded slowly, his instincts working spontaneously. Then he heard a sound which caused him to jerk upright in surprise. A baby cried sharply, the sound being cut off suddenly, as if by a frightened hand. He drew a shuddering breath into his lungs. If there was a baby up here in this godforsaken spot then there would surely be a woman with it. He held up a hand to halt the men then sneaked forward cautiously, making no sound. He flattened out behind a rock. The baby cried again and Steine grinned. He had a feeling that this was going to be his lucky day.
CHAPTER FOUR
Kurt Eckhardt found life pleasant back with his unit. There was nothing for him to do but stretch out in the late May sunshine and, after the long winter of fighting it seemed like Paradise. Days went by, with only enemy air activity reminding them of the war. He received two letters from home informing him that his wife and two children were well. Rumours about the unit moving into the south of France were rife and growing each day. But Kurt, in his quieter moments, wondered about the future with foreboding in his heart.
All he wanted to do was survive: that was the height of his ambition. If Germany was going to lose the war he accepted the fact and wanted hostilities to cease before more blood was shed, particularly his. But there was no sign of an end, and he kept his private fears to himself. The unit continued to rest, and slowly recover from their gruelling experiences.
His ribs were knitting together nicely. The bullet wound itself had healed completely now, and there was just a deep scar to show how close he had come to death. But the bullet had caught him after first striking a metal part of the vehicle in which he had been travelling, and that had saved him.
Major Zimmermann had sent for him, and Kurt was worried because a summons to HQ could mean anything. The worst he could hear was that there had been trouble at home. He reported quickly to the command post and found Zimmermann alone, smoking his pipe thoughtfully. Kurt saluted and stood at ease.
‘Hello, Kurt. How are you feeling now?’ Zimmermann picked up a letter which lay before him. ‘I received this from Aunt Gretel this morning. They had a narrow escape at the farm. A British bomber was hit over Hamburg and almost crashed upon the farmhouse. As it was, they received a severe shaking-up and had a few windows smashed and some slates knocked off the roof.’
Kurt caught his breath and his face paled. He looked into his superior’s dark eyes, shaking his head slowly.
‘Thank God no one was hurt,’ he said. ‘But if they’re not safe on the farm then where can people be safe in Germany today? One hears a great deal about the bombing raids. Are they as bad as they say?’
‘This is just an isolated incident,’ Zimmermann consoled. ‘They are perfectly safe at the farm.’
‘But a British bomber crashed in the fields near the farmhouse when Max was on leave last autumn,’ Kurt observed. ‘He told me about it when he came back. He was forced to shoot one of the two British airmen who got out of it. When the devil is this war going to end? How much longer have we got to hold out when we know it’s hopeless?’
‘Kurt, shut up!’ Zimmermann spoke harshly, glancing towards the door. ‘That kind of talk can only get us into trouble. If Leutnant Toepsch came in and overheard you we’d both be for it. You must learn to control your thoughts. I don’t like this situation any more than you do, but there’s nothing we can do about it except obey orders without question.’
Kurt sighed heavily. He, too, glanced towards the door, afraid that Leutnant Toepsch, a Nazi Party member and a fanatical supporter of the Führer, might be nearby. He clenched his teeth.
‘We’ve been in the thick of it for months, sir!’ he said softly. ‘We’ve been outfought and outnumbered, and the whole front in Italy is pulling back. It’s not a withdrawal, it’s a rout. If we can see it then surely those brass-hats at High Command can understand that it’s useless going on. But it’s not them getting killed or wounded! They’ll let us fight on until the last man is dead.’
‘Kurt, I won’t warn you again. That kind of talk is defeatist and, no matter what we think or feel about the war, we are not permitted to voice an opinion. I, too, think it is nearly at an end. But I’m going to keep my mouth shut and pray that I’ll survive it. You had better do the same. The only certainty in the situation is that you will be shot if you are overheard talking in such a manner. There is a chance that you will survive by car
rying out your duties and orders. I know there are a lot of rumours going the rounds, but pay them no heed. Just hold on and keep your head. It will work out right in the end, I am sure.’
‘I hope so!’ Kurt drew a quivering breath. ‘It’s bad enough having to face action, but when our families are drawn into it a man finds it difficult to fight on.’
‘I understand. My attitude has changed since I married Aunt Gretel. Before then I didn’t care about the war, and I did my best to follow the Führer’s aims. But now I’m married I realise that there is more to this life than eternally fighting enemies we have willingly made in the name of idealism.’ Zimmermann paused and shook his head, smiling ruefully. ‘I reprimand you for talking treason then become guilty of the same offence! But it is hard for a soldier to retain his sanity in this situation. We are asked to perform feats of endurance beyond man’s ability. We do our duty without question, and yet it is not enough. I see no immediate solution to our travails, Kurt. I’m sorry. I wish there was something we could do, but duty faces us. Enjoy these days of peace while you can. I have heard a rumour that we may be back in action again before too long.’
‘Here in Italy?’ Kurt demanded. thought we were pulling out for good.’
‘No, not here.’ Zimmermann shook his head. can say no more. It is dangerous even to think of such matters. But the Second Front is almost upon us. The Allies must be ready now to launch themselves upon France.’
‘So that’s why there have been rumours about us going into the south of France!’ Kurt nodded, and for a moment his face was haggard. He felt physically and mentally exhausted. He wondered if he would find the strength to climb back into a Panzer when the time came. He half wished that when they had last been shot up and forced to leave their tank he had been captured by the Americans. At least the war would have been over for him. But the knowledge that his family was still in Germany haunted him and he realized that he would keep on fighting while ordered to do so. They could not give up all hope. Victory might still be gained.
