Heroes in Normandy

by Alan David

  ‘I do know that we shall be moving out in a few days, although I have no details yet of our destination. Just keep your fingers crossed, Kurt. If we go back to Germany we may get leave.’

  ‘I daren’t even consider that possibility because if it fails to materialize I’d never get over the disappointment,’ Kurt responded. ‘We’ve done more than our share of fighting. It’s about time we were given a complete rest.’

  ‘The trouble is, Zimmermann said softly, ‘if everyone who deserved a rest was given one then there would be no one left at the front.’

  Kurt glanced towards the door and saw Leutnant Toepsch peering into the cellar. The Nazi saluted Zimmermann, who changed his tone and looked at Kurt with expressionless gaze.

  ‘I’m glad to be able to tell you that no one at the farm was hurt, although they had a close shave. I’ll talk to you again later, Kurt.’

  Kurt nodded and saluted smartly. He turned and departed, and almost cringed as he came into contact with Leutnant Toepsch in the doorway. He hated Nazis! They had brought this war upon the German nation, and innocent men, women and children were dying for their warped ideals. He went back to his own quarters, downcast and angry, fighting against revealing his thoughts in his expression. They would shoot a man these days just for looking as if he were tired of the war...

  Three days later they moved out, travelling north by road, avoiding air attacks, and moved across the border into Austria. The war seemed far away now, and it was impossible to bear in mind that farther south terrific battles were still being fought in Italy. Even air attacks were fewer, made only by heavy bombers. They were not direct targets any longer, and a strange sense of peace came over them as they marched out of the station along a road that led up through high mountains.

  It was hot and tiring, marching up the steep road, and Kurt soon felt the effects of his wound. He dumped his kit in one of the accompanying trucks and climbed into the back beside Major Zimmermann. His superior was in high spirits, and grinned as he met Kurt’s gaze.

  ‘This is better, is it not?’ he demanded. ‘We’re closer to Germany, and with a bit of luck we may be able to get some leave. If there’s the slightest possibility then we’ll have it.’

  Kurt smiled. Home seemed to be in another world. He could picture the farm and Aunt Gretel, but Anna’s face was cloudy in his mind and he wondered why he could not recall her clearly. He smiled tenderly as he thought of his home, and only the sharp braking of the truck jerked him back to reality. Peering ahead, he saw that they were at the gates of a large barracks.

  The barracks was empty except for guards, and Kurt fancied that it had been cleared for them. They were allocated quarters and, after a meal, were mustered on the square. It was the first time for many months that Kurt had seen the Battalion assembled together, but most of them were strangers, new recruits for the battered unit.

  Colonel Leitner, a short, fleshy man in his forties, a brilliant tank strategist, addressed them as they stood in ranks on the square before him under a perfectly blue sky. There were birds singing in the trees surrounding the square. The peacefulness of the afternoon seemed unreal. Leitner used a public address system, and his harsh voice echoed metallically around them as he stressed the good work they had done in the past and expressed hopes for the future. But Kurt was interested only in what they might be doing in future. They had no tanks, and if they were not re-equipped with Panzers they would be sent into the line as infantry.

  He disliked that thought intensely, as they would probably go to the eastern front. But he pricked up his ears when the Colonel mentioned Panzers, and most of the men on parade stiffened as they caught the drift of the speech.

  ‘The German Army is nothing if not thorough,’ Leitner bawled. ‘There is a training area to the rear of these barracks and our Panzers are lined up there waiting for us. The Company areas have already been designated, and I suggest that we all go now to view the equipment that has been assembled here for us. We are to spend a week checking our weapons and preparing for further action, and then, no doubt, we shall be given our next destination. That is all. Company Commanders, take over and move out.’

  There was some delay while the Companies marched off the square, and Kurt glanced around, listening to the conjecture in the ranks as to their new Panzers. Then it was their turn to proceed to the training area and, when they reached it, Kurt was amazed to see dozens of armoured vehicles lined up and well camouflaged. But there were none of the new Panther tanks, of which they had heard so much, and Kurt shook his head slowly when he walked along a row of Panzer Mark IVs and saw battle-scars on most of them. Although they had been re-painted, the scars of machine-gun fire and shells could not be completely removed. These vehicles had seen a lot of action, probably in Russia, and had been repaired and serviced.

  Zimmermann told the crews to select a tank each, and Kurt moved to the nearest Mark IV. Its turret bore the scars of high explosive upon it, and he wondered what had happened to its former crew. But his crew came to report to him, and Hohner grimaced as he looked at their new vehicle.

  ‘It’s seen a lot of service,’ he commented. ‘Probably as much as us, I shouldn’t wonder. I hope they haven’t left bits of the previous crew inside it. Do you remember that tank we collected at Voronezh? Vogel found an arm in it, lodged beside the radio.’

  ‘We’re going to need a new radio operator to replace Vogel,’ Kurt said. ‘Have you seen anyone who might be suitable?’

  ‘As a matter of fact there’s a Berliner named Gerd Niehaus. He comes from Tiergarten. Lives in Stromstrasse. I heard him talking and knew his origins immediately. He’s an operator, and as he’s from Berlin I’d say he’d be all right for us.’ Schultze, a Berliner, spoke eagerly.

  ‘I’ll have a talk with him. Fetch him, Hohner, before some other tank commander nabs him.’ Kurt eyed Schultze, their driver. ‘What’s wrong?’ he demanded. ‘Don’t you want to get inside and see if it’ll start?’

  ‘You know I don’t like to be first into a strange vehicle,’ Schultze retorted. ‘Hohner, you get in and check if there’s any ammunition in the lockers.’

  ‘I’ve got to fetch Niehaus,’ Hohner said, moving away.

  ‘I’ll get in.’ Weilen, their gunner, spoke heavily. ‘I want to check out the main armament. Thank God they’re fitted the high-velocity 75 to this rattle-trap.’ He climbed upon the front of the vehicle and opened the hatch in the turret, dropping quickly into the interior.

  Schultze waited a moment then also climbed in, using the driver’s hatch. Kurt, who was watching, smiled and turned to survey the scene around him. Crews were crawling all over their vehicles, checking them out. These would be their future homes, and each crew would spend more time inside its vehicle than out of it when they returned to action. Powerful engines were started and began to roar. Exhaust fumes thickened in the heavy atmosphere. The noise was terrific, and they had to shout to make each other hear what was said.

  There were several firing ranges on the training area, and each Company was allocated one. They took their vehicles along rough tracks and then tested their weapons. Kurt was sitting on the ground beside their vehicle, waiting for their turn to do some firing practice, when Hohner returned with a tall, thin youth who seemed nervous. He had blond hair, blue eyes, and was almost skeletal in build. Kurt looked critically at the youngster as he snapped to attention and saluted.

  ‘Radio operator Gerd Niehaus reporting, sir,’ he said briskly.

  ‘All right, Niehaus, stand at ease,’ Kurt responded. ‘No need to salute me or look as if you expect me to bite you. Just finished your training, have you?’

  ‘Yes, Herr Feldwebel!’ Niehaus was scarcely eighteen years old. He gazed into space just above Kurt’s head and held himself stiffly at attention.

  ‘I told you to stand at ease,’ Kurt said gently. ‘I know what initial training is like. The NCOs chased you around as if you were rabbits. They terrified you, didn’t they?’

  ‘Yes, Herr
Feldwebel!’ Niehaus tried to relax but could not, and he dared not meet Kurt’s gaze.

  ‘Well now you’re with a Regiment you’ll find that discipline is not so strict. We’re just one big happy family. I told you to relax, Neihaus. Come and sit down here beside me.’ He waited until the youngster had complied, and smiled when he saw that Niehaus tried to sit to attention. ‘You haven’t seen action before, I take it?’

  ‘No, sir. But I experienced air raids at home. They were very heavy, sir, although we have been warned not to talk about them.’

  ‘Never mind what they told you,’ Schultze cut in, appearing in the driver’s hatch. He dropped to the ground beside Kurt and squatted negligently. ‘Tell me about Berlin. What parts have they bombed? I live in Reichskanzlerplatz. Has it been badly hit?’

  ‘Pretty badly, but bombs have fallen everywhere in the city, even in the suburbs. Nowhere has escaped.’ Niehaus spoke in a low undertone, and Kurt lifted a hand.

  ‘All right, you and Schultze can talk about Berlin later. I want to talk to you, Niehaus, and you’d better pay strict attention to what I have to tell you. There will be five of us inside this monster, and we each rely upon the other. Orders must be obeyed instantly, without thought, for time is precious in action. You will operate the radio and also the machine-gun. You won’t have time to think about what’s going on around you. In action you’ll fire at the survivors of any tank we hit and be ready to take on the crews if they bale out. If we are attacking enemy infantry then you’ll kill any troops in our immediate vicinity. How did you do on your weapons course?’

  ‘I passed out top of my class, sir,’ Niehaus replied, now looking a little more assured of himself.

  ‘Good. We’ll see what you can do when it’s our turn to fire on the range. Have you been inside a Mark IV before?’

  ‘Yes, sir. I trained on a Mark IV.’

  ‘Good. Get into your seat and take over the radio. Set up your equipment and report to the Troop Commander. He’s on the air now, giving orders to the Panzers on the range. He’ll tell you when we have to go forward. We’ll have another chat later, but remember one thing, Niehaus. I’m in command of this tank and what I say goes. If you have any problems or if there’s anything you don’t understand then let me know immediately. I’ll tell you this much. We are a good crew. We’ve been in almost continuous action since Poland, and we only lost your predecessor after we had baled out. He was hit by mortar fire. So just do your duty and remain alert and we’ll all get along well. Talk to the other members of the crew. We are all in this together. You’ll never be alone.’

  ‘Thank you, sir.’ Niehaus got to his feet and saluted. He climbed upon the tank and slid into the vehicle through the forward hatch. A moment later his voice sounded as he called the Troop Commander and netted in the radio.

  Schultze shook his head slowly as he eyed Kurt. ‘I don’t like it, Sergeant-Major. These replacements seem to be getting younger and younger. They’ll be raiding the nurseries next! It’s a sign of what we’re sinking to. I’ll bet Niehaus was in school this time last year.’

  Kurt nodded. He did not want to think about it. Their casualties had been so heavy; millions were dead and the end was not yet in sight. He looked up as Hohner emerged from the turret, a glum expression upon his heavy features. Hohner was a grumbler but a first class loader, and Kurt was relieved that he had his old crew around him.

  ‘I’m happy with everything,’ Hohner announced, glancing around.

  ‘It’ll be the day you’re happy about anything,’ Schultze responded with a grin. ‘The last time you were happy was on leave in Rome.’

  Kurt smiled, for he remembered that leave very well. He had been unfaithful to Anna for the first time since they were married, but it had been necessary to rid his mind of the tensions and fear that had accumulated. He had been like a new man afterwards, but on their way back to the Regiment from Rome they had run into the partisan ambush in which he had been wounded, and he shook his head as he considered the vagaries of fate; that a man could survive all the hells of the battlefield only to be hit in an unorthodox ambush miles behind the line.

  Niehaus called to them and they clambered into the vehicle. Weilen was in his seat and Hohner crouched in the turret near Kurt, who stood up in the turret and looked around. He touched the obdurate steel of the vehicle and felt tension flow into his veins. This was reality. He was back in command of a tank again, and he was not looking forward to action. The future seemed bleak and uncertain, as usual, and he glanced around as he put on his headphones. He received confirmation from Niehaus and gave an order for Schultze to take them forward. They crossed the range to the firing point and tested their weapons. The crash of the 75mm blasted his ears, and the all-familiar sound cast his mind back to some of the actions in which they had been engaged. This was stark reality! This was the brutal truth. No matter what they did or where they went, it all came down to standing in a turret and commanding the Panzer in action against superior odds and equipment.

  Niehaus proved to be an excellent shot with the machine-gun and Kurt was satisfied. He saw the youngster glow with pride when he was commended, and Kurt accepted that the newcomer was a good replacement for the unfortunate Vogel. They moved off the range and took their vehicle back to the leaguer, camouflaging it carefully.

  ‘That was a good practice,’ Kurt said when they stood together beside the massive vehicle. ‘What about the 75, Weilen?’

  ‘Spot on,’ the gunner replied. ‘It’s a new gun. I suspect the old one was damaged when the tank was hit.’

  ‘We needn’t go into that,’ Kurt said sternly, for he saw a glint of fear in Niehaus’s pale eyes. ‘Stand by there. I’ll go and see if we can dismiss now that we’ve finished our shooting.’

  He went across to Leutnant Reinhalt’s tank. His superior was making notes on a clipboard, and Kurt waited until Reinhalt looked up at him. The Troop Commander smiled as their eyes met.

  ‘Looks like we’re back in business again, Sergeant-Major! That was good shooting. But I need have no worries about your crew. They’ve always been the best. How did your new radio operator shape up? He sounded good over the air, and he seems to know his job.’

  ‘He handled his machine-gun very well. He’s apprehensive, but after his baptism of fire he should settle down. I think I’ve got one of the best in him, even though he is on the young side.’

  ‘I’ve noticed that replacements are getting younger,’ Reinhalt observed. ‘I suppose it’s a sign of the times. But you can stand down your crew now. How are you feeling, by the way? Getting over the effects of that wound?’

  ‘Yes, sir. It isn’t bothering me at all now. I get an ache in the ribs when I crouch in the turret, but by the time we go back into action I should be A-I again.’

  ‘Good. I rely a great deal upon you in action. I’m relieved that you’re back.’

  ‘Have you any idea where we might be going when we’re ready?’ Kurt asked.

  ‘I was about to ask you if you’d heard anything from the Major.’ Reinhalt grinned. ‘I haven’t heard a thing. But I suppose it will be either Russia or Italy again.’

  ‘I hope it isn’t Russia.’ Kurt’s face shadowed as he spoke. ‘I think we’ve had our fair share of that place. And the war isn’t going too well out there, is it?’

  ‘You tell me where it is going well for us,’ Reinhalt countered.

  Kurt smiled, for there was no answer to that, and he saluted and returned to his crew. Even if they didn’t know where they would eventually fight again, he knew that they were ready for battle, and it was his experience that they were never left out of action too long. The nightmare was hovering over them again, and all too soon it would descend to envelop them. Would they survive the next battle? The thought crossed his mind and he fought it. He had to survive. He had a wife and children at home who needed him. He could not leave them alone to face the grim existence which would follow when the fighting finally ended. He was certain that Germany would be a
broken nation, and life would be hard for a long time to come.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Sergeant Steine approached the cave mouth with blood pounding at his temples. He heard the baby cry again and kept his eyes fixed upon the brush-screened entrance, ready to start triggering his machine-pistol at the first sign of trouble. He knew the procedure for clearing a cave. He should put men down to cover the mouth then have someone throw a grenade inside. But he was certain there were women within and he wanted at least one of them unharmed.

  Sieber dropped to cover with his machine-gun, and Steine, pausing to glance around, saw that the rest of the men were taking up defensive positions. If this were a trap they would not be found wanting.

  He believed this was a partisan hideout, for women and children would not be alone in these mountains. There was too much partisan activity in the area, and those civilians who had fled from their homes for fear of bombing and shelling would have made their way to Rome by now. He crouched a little as he neared the cave-mouth, aware that he was being foolish, but it would be worth the risk if there was a woman inside.

  When he reached the low entrance, Steine tightened his finger upon the trigger of his weapon. He narrowed his eyes and eased forward, and there was gloom in the deep recess. He realized that he could not enter for he would be silhouetted against the daylight, and that was too much of a risk even for such as he. He squatted, weapon thrust forward, and called out harshly in German, hoping that anyone inside would be able to understand his language.

  ‘All right, inside. We know you’re there, and you can’t get away.’ As he spoke he wondered if there was another exit, but pressed on, his thick voice vibrant with desire. ‘This is a large patrol out here and you have five seconds in which to answer or we shall throw bombs inside.’