by Alan David
‘Yes, sir!’ Eckhardt turned quickly, calling to Reinfeld. ‘Scrub the operation,’ he ordered. ‘How soon can you get your sections back here? We’re moving back to camp then pulling out for Germany.’ He glanced down at the operator. ‘Call up the other three platoons for me. Tell them to cancel the partisan operation and move back to the rendezvous at once. I’ll be there waiting for them. This is urgent. If we’re not careful the Division will be in Germany and we’ll get left behind.’
He hurried to his vehicle and sprang into it. Reinfeld shouted orders and the files of approaching men began to double. Eckhardt suppressed a sigh. They were about to step off into the unknown again, and he wondered where they would finally end up. It was in the back of his mind that they would be sent to Russia once more, and he was glad that the summer was approaching for the Russian winter was too much to endure...
CHAPTER SIX
When orders for the Regiment to move came through, Kurt felt a pang of cold fear strike through him. Life was comparatively peaceful in Austria, but they received instructions to drive their armoured vehicles to the nearest railway station, where they would entrain for Germany, and Kurt wondered about their ultimate destination. All he could learn was that they would pass through Munich, heading west, and then Stuttgart.
‘It looks like France and the Second Front,’ Leutnant Reinhalt said soberly.
‘If the Allies are going to land somewhere in France then it’s about time they did so,’ Kurt observed. ‘Next week will see June upon us. If they leave it too late they’ll get all the bad weather.’
‘You sound as if you’re impatient to get back into action.’ Reinhalt smiled grimly. ‘But, wherever we go, you can be sure that we will get more than our share of fighting.’
‘I’d rather go to France than Russia,’ Kurt spoke quickly. ‘It was hell trying to fight through to Stalingrad. I’ll never forget those days as long as I live.’
‘It’s better to forget them. Let’s get our vehicles loaded at the station. We’re going back through Germany. Now we’ll get a chance to see just how much damage the Allied air raids have done. There have been so many rumours.’
Kurt thought of the farm south of Hamburg and hoped his family were safe. He was relieved that they were not living in one of the big cities. But a strange reluctance had seized him at the news that they were going to move. He had been subconsciously hoping against hope that somehow they would be forgotten, or overlooked, and that the war would pass them by. But they were being moved according to some obscure strategy beyond the understanding of mere fighting troops, and movement orders were being processed which would take them back into the heart of hell.
All was confusion as the cumbersome armoured fighting vehicles were loaded upon low cars at the railway station. The drivers eased their heavy Panzers up the ramps and then supervised the lashing-down. There were moments of tension when vapour trails showed high in the sky, but although enemy aircraft passed overhead many times there was no attack.
They were not going to travel with their Panzers. They stood on bare platforms to watch the long train carrying the tanks depart, and a sigh of relief swept through them as they saw the tail-end of it passing out of sight. Another train drew in beside them and they boarded it, settling down in the compartments, divesting themselves of their equipment. But hours passed before, just after nightfall, their transport began to move.
Kurt recalled the long train journeys he had made crossing Russia, especially when travelling home on leave, and his eyes narrowed when he thought of the partisan attacks that had been made against them. But there was little fear of such occurrences on this route, and the train hammered steadily through the night, taking them through foreign surroundings. There was little to see and they made infrequent stops. The stations through which they passed were blacked out and they had no idea where they were. A sense of unease affected all of them. The past was dead and the future was uncertain. They had no roots, and sat in darkness while the long train jolted and swayed through the night.
In the early hours of the morning they halted outside a city that was being bombed, and crowded at the windows to see the flashes and fires. The ominous sounds of war blasted in the distance, reminding them of what they could expect next time they went into action, and daylight came while they were still motionless. Rumours began to pass from coach to coach; some even suggesting that they were about to return to Italy.
It was mid-morning before they moved again. Breakfast had been a frugal affair, and the men were stiff and uncomfortable, squeezed into the compartments. They were not permitted to leave the train at any of the stops. But they were in Germany at last, and excitement caught them as they peered out at their homeland. They looked around at the countryside, failing to see many signs of air raid damage, and began to think that the rumours of such raids had been grossly exaggerated. But Kurt was aware that most of the Allied air attacks had been directed against the industrial north of Germany, and with his family living south of Hamburg and east of Bremen he knew he had reason to worry about their safety.
The day passed monotonously but peacefully. During the afternoon they made a long halt and were permitted to leave the train, although there were field police forming a cordon around the station. Kurt was surprised, thinking that it was to prevent men from deserting. But then he realized that it was more likely they were not being permitted to make contact with their civilian countrymen. Perhaps they were being held incommunicado to prevent the civilians learning the true state of affairs at any of the fronts.
Night came and they were suddenly marshalled with their equipment and made to board waiting trucks outside the station. They were conveyed some thirty miles by road before being taken back to the railway, and then they boarded another train and continued through the night, heading northwards now, and Kurt wondered how far they were from his home. But during the night they detrained once more, and waited until dawn before being packed into more trucks. They set out in convoy, heading west, and during the morning they crossed the frontier and entered France.
‘So it’s to be the Tommies again,’ grumbled Hohner. They were packed like sardines into a truck, and tank crews had remained grouped together. ‘It’s the Second Front for us.’
‘Has it started yet?’ Niehaus asked, and was jeered by the others.
‘No one knows where they will come ashore,’ Kurt asserted.
‘It’s obvious that they’ll come straight across from Dover to Calais. It’s only about twenty-two miles, isn’t it?’ Schultze asked.
‘We couldn’t cross there in 1940,’ Weilen observed. ‘I remember standing on the cliffs and seeing the white cliffs of Dover. That was a beautiful summer, wasn’t it? We captured all north-west Europe in six weeks.’
‘And it’s given us nothing but trouble ever since,’ Hohner retorted. ‘I wish they had given us leave before sending us on here. We were in Germany. It wouldn’t have mattered if we’d gone home for a few days.’
‘Too much chaos in Germany now,’ Niehaus said. ‘Remember I was there very recently, and I tell you that the bombing is terrible. Berlin is being laid to waste and the northern cities are being pounded into rubble. There are thousands of civilians being killed. Bombs don’t care who they kill. Women and children are being slaughtered in their hundreds.’
‘Shut up, Niehaus,’ Kurt ordered, and there was silence for some time while they each thought of their homes and wondered what was happening.
Night came and they still travelled in their convoy of trucks. Then a terrific explosion rent the air ahead of them and all the trucks halted. NCOs came running from vehicle to vehicle, urging everyone to get down and take cover.
‘What’s the trouble?’ Kurt demanded of one shapeless figure. ‘Is it an air raid?’ He could hear other explosions, and they were too heavy to be grenades.
‘No. The French Resistance. They’re playing up hell all over France; sabotaging, destroying bridges and railways, shooting up convoys like this
one. Take my advice and get your heads down. They’ve blown the road ahead and behind us. Get your weapons ready and be prepared to fight for your lives.’
They ran to the side of the road and dropped flat, lying together, and Kurt was reminded of the partisan attacks they had experienced in Poland and Russia. But there was no small-arms fire and they lay motionless in a timeless limbo. Several fires were burning at either end of the column. Kurt shook his head. There was no end to the violence that followed an occupation. When they had taken France and the Low Countries they had naïvely thought that would be an end to it. But they had been wrong, and now it was all too obvious.
After what seemed an age they were ordered to get back into the trucks, and they moved on again, passing three burning vehicles which had been leading the convoy. Kurt stared at them as they passed, and thought of the terrible moments when Italian partisans had fired upon his truck just south of Rome. He could still feel the numbing impact of the bullet that had struck him, and a twinge of pain darted through the wound in his chest. It was like a knife thrust, and he felt his nerve deserting him in the darkness. He wished he could get off the truck and make his own way home, but there were now many enemies between him and the family he loved.
By the time they reached their destination they were exhausted from the endless hours they had spent cramped in their vehicles. They entered a large camp in a wood and wearily climbed out of the trucks with their equipment. Dawn was not far off, and they were put under canvas. Kurt found himself in a tent with several other NCOs, and they stretched out on the bedrolls that had been provided and lay resting until daylight.
It was as well that they were under cover of trees, for with the coming of daylight there was a great deal of air activity. They could not see the sky for they were expressly ordered to stay away from the few clearings. But they heard the sound of aircraft passing overhead, and the crashing of bombs in the distance informed them that the Allies were taking advantage of their air superiority.
Kurt wondered about the forces arrayed against them. It had been hell on the Italian front, and anyone who had been to Russia knew the nightmarish conditions under which Germans fought there. But this was France, a country that had been occupied for four years, and yet there was as much air activity here as elsewhere. Other Allied air forces, based in the fortress England, were bombing France, and it brought home to Kurt just what Germany was up against. His spirits fell, for he could see no hope of victory.
They were mustered and Company Commanders passed on some small items of information. They would remain in the camp until their armoured vehicles arrived at the nearest railroad station. They might have to wait some considerable time because enemy air raids had destroyed many of the stations and rolling stock could not get through. They had finished the trip by road because the rail lines had been cut in so many places. There would be few parades. No one was permitted to leave the camp, but they could write letters to their next of kin if they wished.
Kurt lounged under a tree, listening to the incessant air raids. A number of enemy fighter-bombers were active, and that reminded him of Italy. But they were not far from England here and the range of such aircraft had been greatly increased during the past four years. He thought of 194o, when the German army had been invincible, and realized that the greatest mistake the Führer had made was attacking Russia. He suppressed a shudder when he recalled the fighting he had seen in the east. It did not bear thinking about.
Days passed and they had nothing to do. Time weighed heavily upon them as they played cards or sat and talked. There was no word of their armoured vehicles, and Kurt began to hope that they would never arrive. It would suit him if he never had to climb into another Panzer as long as he lived.
Mail arrived, having caught up with them from Italy, and Kurt had a letter from Anna informing him that the children were well and the farm still undamaged.
A few days later they were told that their Panzers had arrived at the nearest railway station, and they went down after dark to collect them. There was a great deal of confusion and everyone wanted to get away from the station before daylight. Eventually they got their vehicles on the road and began to make their way to prearranged positions. As the sun came up next morning, Kurt and his crew were putting the finishing touches to the camouflage around their Mark IV, which was in a field near a farm. Then Kurt was summoned to the Troop Commander’s vehicle along with the other tank commanders.
Leutnant Reinhalt spread out a large scale map of France and Kurt saw a red line drawn upon it. He caught his breath when he saw it ended thirty-odd miles to the west of Paris, near a town called Rambouillet.
‘That’s our destination,’ Reinhalt said. ‘We are going to move during daylight, keeping to second class roads, and we are to make good time. We’ll have to be very careful of enemy air activity, which has been stepped up considerably all over France during the past weeks. We’re going to have to make a lot of detours to get there, and God knows how long it will take, but do your best to keep your vehicles roadworthy. If anyone drops out they could be in serious trouble. At night the French Resistance is out in force, playing hell with all occupying troops. France isn’t a safe area anymore.’
‘So it’s the Second Front for us,’ Kurt observed. He was the senior tank commander in the Troop with the exception of Reinhalt himself. ‘Have we any idea where the Allies will attempt to land?’
‘If HQ have they didn’t tell me,’ Reinhalt observed, chuckling grimly. ‘I don’t think anyone knows. They are taking steps to find out, but there are several theories. Only time will prove which of them is right. So we have to cover every eventuality. We are going into reserve at our destination so that we can be moved to any part of the coast once the main Allied landings are apparent. We don’t know what to expect, but if the fighting follows the course of that on other fronts then we’re in for a hot time. But all of that is in the future. The only thing that must concern us now is getting to our destination. It’s going to be a hell of a trip, but we’ve got to make it.’
They were silent for a moment then Kurt cleared his throat. ‘I assume, sir, that the nearer we get to the coast of France the worse the air attacks will become. It will be murder trying to move during daylight. Are we going to travel at all at night?’
‘I don’t think so. It could be far worse for us at night with the Maquis on the prowl. We’re going to have to stand guard at night. From now on we must be at top flight vigilance. The lull is over. There’s no war against the Allies yet in France, but there will certainly be activity against us, so watch out for your vehicles.’
The grim words pulled them up sharply, forcing them to consider the realities of the situation. Kurt felt nothing but despair. It was painfully obvious to him that Germany had lost the war and, as far as he was concerned, the most humane thing for the Fürher to do was sue for peace to save lives. But he knew that course was out of the question, and gritted his teeth and remained silent. It seemed that their duty was far from over, and the uncertainty of their future seemed to weigh heavily upon everyone, from Leutnant Reinhalt down to the most junior tank commander. Kurt saw nothing but harshly set features in the grey light of early morning.
‘That will be all then,’ Reinhalt said. ‘I don’t know how far we will be expected to push on today, but keep your eyes open at all times. If there is an air attack directed against us personally then deploy and hope for the best. There’s little else we can do. Now go back to your tanks, ensure that your crews have breakfast, and be ready to move out upon the word of command.’
Kurt returned to his Mark IV to find that Schultze was already preparing breakfast, and his crew eagerly asked questions. There was little he could tell them except the name of their ultimate destination, and he added that it was doubtful if they would ever see it. A Panzer Regiment stretched out in column of march presented a fine target to prowling fighter-, bombers.
They eventually moved out, and the column stretched back as the Panzers cl
attered along. They did not follow the main roads, which would have given them less distance to cover, and during the day the alarms which overtook them were numberless and exhausting. Many times they crashed off the small roads and tried to find what cover was available in the countryside. They could not travel directly across country for they would leave broad tracks to act as signposts to enemy aircraft. But they made steady progress, and by the end of the first day Kurt was surprised to learn that they had not lost a single tank to enemy air activity. But they still had a long way to go and it was obvious that conditions would get worse as they proceeded westward.
There was little rest and hardly any sleep for anyone during the night. Several explosions were heard which were distinct from the bombing that occurred, and they saw fires raging in the distance. The French Resistance was becoming more and more audacious with each passing day, and Kurt stood in his turret and peered around alertly when it was his turn to mount guard. In addition to guards in each vehicle there were also sentries moving around their leaguer, and the night passed uneasily.
The next day followed the pattern of the first, although there was more enemy air activity, and Kurt wondered if the French Resistance was passing on word of their movements to the Allies. It seemed that the fighter-bombers which appeared overhead were looking for them, and several tanks were hit in strafing attacks that came sweeping in without warning. The Allies were using several types of aircraft, and all seemed better than the few German aircraft they saw. To Kurt it was just another indication that they were on the losing side.
When they stopped that night they were outside a large town, but Kurt had no idea what it was. There was a complete blackout upon their movements and they waited tensely during darkness, guarding their vehicles. Schultze approached Kurt and asked for permission to go off foraging, but Kurt shook his head. They could hardly see each other’s face in the night, and in the distance bombs were bursting somewhere while gun-flashes erupted intermittently. The dull rumble and crump of explosions reminded them where they were and why.
