by Alan David
Niehaus, still awaiting his first time in action, could not imagine what it would be like in a Panzer under direct fire. He had heard rumours about solid steel shot crashing through armoured vehicles and had seen some wrecked tanks that had been blasted by fire. But his first time in action was still ahead of him and there was a nagging fear in his mind that when that time came he would fail his comrades. He had seen dead bodies in Berlin — victims of the air raids, and he had been shocked by the sight of them, quite unable to bring himself to touch them. Now he was a trained soldier and would be expected to take his place in a Panzer and die for Germany if necessary. He suppressed a shiver as he lay listening to the Allied aircraft roaring overhead. Death and destruction were all around him, and he was not made of armoured steel. He was mere flesh and blood, and very scared.
Everyone was scared. The knowledge that action lay in the near future was daunting even for the stoutest of hearts, but the fact that they were the underdogs, when they had been so accustomed to being the victors, seemed to have a freezing effect upon their morale. Kurt, lying motionless, his thoughts sluggish, could not bring himself to think of the future. What happened next was not a part of his awareness. He had seen enough action to realize that a man should concern himself only with the present. It was possible that they had no future, and he set his teeth into his bottom lip when he heard yet another wave of fighter-bombers roaring low overhead. When their weapons began chattering he wondered who was getting hammered, and could only feel relief that it was not themselves.
Nightfall came and they prepared to move out. The leading Panzer moved along a narrow road, and almost immediately there was a terrific crash and a flash of orange fire. It had run over a mine 1 The column halted. Kurt cursed angrily: the Resistance were responsible. They were delaying all movement at night so that the Germans would be forced to travel during the day, when the Allied air force could get them.
There was a long wait while sappers went forward to check the road, and several more mines were lifted. Then they moved on again, passing the burning tank that threw frightening shadows around the perimeter of its blaze. They made fairly good time after that, and moved steadily towards the beachheads. They had a destination south of Caen in Normandy, and they were a long way behind schedule, but, before dawn, when they camouflaged their vehicles, they had gained many miles during the night despite the choked roads and the wreckage.
During the long day they lay under cover once again, and that was the hardest part of their existence. Now they could hear the ominous sounds of gunfire. They were in Normandy, and artillery, complemented by the big fifteen and sixteen-inch guns of battleships lying offshore, was pounding German defences. Kurt listened to the familiar sounds, and he knew that within the next few hours they would be in action against enemy armour. He wondered if the Allies had brought new tanks into their forces. Their own new Panthers and Tigers were having teething troubles, although their armament was still superior to that of the British and Americans.
Kurt was summoned to Major Zimmermann’s HQ, and he moved out of cover very carefully, ducking down whenever aircraft swooped overhead. The sounds of battle were heavy and ceaseless. Having no real news about what was happening seemed to fill them with a sense of unreality, and their guesses at events always seemed to endow the enemy with greater powers and abilities than they really possessed.
He found Zimmermann and the tank commanders crouching in a ditch. The countryside was wealthy with cover for their vehicles. Fields were small and hedges massive, consisting of banks with trees planted in them. Kurt had never seen hedges like them, and realized that they would make good cover. But fast movement by armoured vehicles seemed out of the question. He saw billowing smoke everywhere, and flinched whenever heavy shells exploded in the vicinity. It would take them a day or two to get used to the shelling again.
‘Hello, Kurt,’ Zimmermann greeted. ‘How’s your crew?’
‘We’re fine, sir,’ Kurt replied. ‘Did we lose many Panzers during the night?’
‘Three,’ Reinhalt said. His face was taut and filled with strain. ‘The damned Resistance! They’re as bad as the Allied air force! This is going to be a hell of a battle.’
‘What’s the position?’ Kurt asked. ‘It’s not knowing what’s going on that affects the men more than anything.’
‘I can tell you what’s happening,’ Zimmermann said wearily. ‘Look at your maps and pass on this information to your crews when you get back. You’ve all got your large scale maps of this area, haven’t you?’
There was a murmur of assent from the tank commanders, and Zimmermann smoothed out his own copy.
‘The Allies landed four days ago on five separate beach-heads. Those beach-heads have now linked up to form a continuous foothold that stretches from Ouistreham in the east — can you find it? — to just east of Montebourg in the west. The British landed on three beaches and the Americans on two. The British are on the right as we face them and the Americans are on the left. Their landing area now has been enlarged to almost sixty miles of coastline, and they have penetrated inland in some places to a depth of ten miles. The British appear to be driving towards Caen, which is the most important objective for them on their front, and it looks as if the Americans are attempting to drive right across the Cotentin Peninsula in’ order to cut off Cherbourg. They do not have a port in which to land their supplies and every effort is being made to deny them one.
‘Our Fifteenth Army appears to be holding the British along the coast so we are going in west of Caen, which is heavily defended. We will try to drive a wedge between the British and Canadian Divisions. If we can breach their line it is likely that we shall turn their flanks and throw them back into the sea. As soon as our vehicles are fully operational we shall attack. Is that clear?’
Kurt studied his map, following the gist of Zimmermann’s information. It seemed to him that the Allies were firmly entrenched ashore, and he felt that nothing could dislodge them. He remembered Anzio, in Italy, where they had fought bitterly in an attempt to throw the Allies back into the sea. They had not been successful, and here the Allies had more men and materials. Kurt knew they would fail. No matter what the Germans did now they were doomed. He sensed it, and the knowledge filled him with foreboding.
Zimmermann spoke again, in a tense, low-pitched voice, and his face was expressionless. ‘There’s little I can tell you now except good luck. Orders will come through when we are due to move forward to support the counter-attack. Watch out for enemy air attacks.’
They left the HQ and went back to their vehicles, and Kurt had to hurl himself into a ditch in heavy undergrowth when a formation of enemy fighter-bombers zoomed low overhead, cannon firing and bombs blasting. He was covered in earth and bits of broken trees, and lay huddled until the whirlwind had passed. Then he went on to his tank. He had mentally given himself up for lost, as usual, and it seemed the best frame of mind to adopt under these hellish conditions. But he dreaded to think of what might happen when they began to roll forwards.
His crew were eager for news, and Kurt spread out his map and explained what Zimmermann had told him. They accepted the situation in silence, and, when he looked around at their taut faces, Kurt saw resignation in most of their expressions. They knew what was coming and they didn’t like it.
‘Well they didn’t give us much of a rest, but it isn’t the Russian front facing us,’ said the irrepressible Schultze. ‘Just think of all those endless miles we’d have to retreat if we were on the steppes now. I’d rather face the British any day. At least they’d take us prisoner if anything went wrong. We know what the Russians do to men who try to surrender.’
‘What was it like on the eastern front?’ Niehaus demanded in a voice that tremored with anticipation.
‘If you don’t know then be relieved that you never had to experience it,’ Hohner said bitterly. ‘Forget about the Russian front, Ɉunge. You’re in France now, and that’s where you’ll do your fighting. Make sure y
ou keep your wits about you. Forget what’s going on outside the tank. It doesn’t concern us. The only thing you have to be afraid of is the shell that’s going to hit you. I don’t have to tell you that we have been a very lucky crew. You have joined us, and we hope you are lucky too. Don’t think about anything but your job. We work as a team, and if one of us fails then we all fail.’
‘That’s quite a long speech for you, Hohner,’ Kurt said gently. ‘But you’ve said what I was about to express in different words. I guess we know what this is all about, and we’ll do whatever task is set us. I hope our luck holds out, and remember, if we have to bale out don’t waste any time. Get out fast and under cover.’
‘We know the drill,’ Weilen said softly. ‘I’m not concerned about what might come at us on the ground. It’s those stinking aircraft I don’t like. We’re sitting ducks as far as they are concerned, and those rocket-firing Typhoons are what scare me. Those rockets are worse than anything they have in the way of anti-tank on the ground.’
‘If one of those comes down at us we’ll never know what hit us,’ Kurt said. ‘Stop worrying about things that are beyond our control. Now stand by. We may get orders to move out at any time. The 21st Panzer Division is operating in this area, and they’ve had a mauling, I gather. They counter-attacked in the spot we are going to hit, and they did it the first day the Allies landed.’
‘And they were thrown back, obviously,’ Weilen said, ‘or we wouldn’t be called upon to make the same thrust. The Allies have had another three days to build up their defences, so what chance do we have?’
‘It’s not for me to say.’ Kurt shook his head. ‘Look, all we can do is our job. We know that pretty well, and have always done it to the best of our ability. Niehaus, get into the tank and stand by your radio. Orders will be coming through soon. Keep me informed of anything that’s said.’
Niehaus eased from under the tank, but at that moment a fighter-bomber roared right over their position. Niehaus came back under the vehicle, yelping like a dog that had been whipped. He crashed against Kurt and lay shivering as enemy weapons hammered and three bombs blasted. But the attack passed as quickly as it started, and Niehaus began to crawl from under the tank again. But a second attack came in. It was obvious that the pilots had spotted something in the immediate area. Blast shook the tank and the heavy detonations hurt their eardrums. Somewhere a man’s voice rang out shrill with agony, the sound intermittent as heavy detonations bludgeoned it out of existence.
Niehaus ducked again and lay motionless, and interminable minutes passed as attack after attack came in. Kurt counted eight of them before the hell and the fury passed away and comparative peace returned. They all crawled out into the open, gasping in the explosive fumes that filled the area. Smoke was rising, and Kurt saw two tanks burning fiercely. A number of men were wandering around aimlessly, shocked by the attack, and Kurt yelled for them to get under cover. If they were spotted they would attract more aircraft.
Hohner had to lift Niehaus on to the tank for the operator to climb into his seat. But Kurt heard the youngster’s wavering voice as he used the radio, and a few moments later Niehaus was calling to him. Kurt nodded. It was never so bad when one had something to do, and he fancied that Niehaus would make a good addition to their crew.
They were ordered to move forward, and Kurt heaved a long sigh as he stood in his turret. They still had camouflage on the vehicle, although some of it fell off when they began to move. Leutnant Reinhalt called his Troop together and they began to move forward. But the hedges proved to be insurmountable obstacles and they were forced to cross open fields and make for gateways in order to advance. Almost immediately they were spotted by fighter-bombers, which came wheeling and diving like vultures, roaring and spitting flame and death. Time and again the aircraft swooped at them, and a Panzer vanished in a pall of flame-shot smoke. The whole world seemed filled with chattering death, and they moved into cover and waited out the storm.
The pilots attacked again and again, whenever they could see targets. They had no intention of leaving the area until they had devastated everything. The tank crews felt helpless in the face of such vicious fire. They could not fight back. They took it patiently, ears ringing, minds dazed by the noise. Then the planes departed and they began to move forward once more. They were under orders to advance, and somewhere ahead of them lay the enemy armies. Action was upon them once again, in a different country, but still with the same grim situation and the few devilish alternatives.
Kurt tried to close his mind to his fears and concentrate upon his duty. It was the only way he knew of getting on with it. If he let his fears gain the upper hand he would lose his nerve, and then, if the enemy did not get him, his own people would shoot him for cowardice. They moved steadily, clanking and rattling forward, trying to climb over and through the massive hedgerows in what was the worst tank country Kurt had ever seen.
CHAPTER NINE
Max Eckhardt was given four days leave. He knew that Colonel Dantine had pulled some strings somewhere and did not question his good luck. He left Gutersbrucke and hitched-hiked in a north-east direction, for it was useless trying to travel on the railway. He had about one hundred and fifty miles to travel to reach Dettfeld, and secured a lift to Munster. From there he went on to Osnabruck then angled eastwards to Hanover. He was appalled by the sight of so much damage in the cities, and wondered if there was any place in Germany which had not been hammered by the enemy airforces. From Hanover he went northwards, and arrived in the small town of Dettfeld in the late afternoon, tired and shocked by the sights he had witnessed.
A German military truck dropped him off in the market square of Dettfeld, and Max was surprised to see a great hole occupying the space of four houses in a row of buildings overlooking the square. The area was roped off, and it looked as if the incident had occurred some weeks before. He stood staring at it, wondering what had happened, although it was obviously the result of enemy action. A policeman approached him, a fat, red-faced old man who was wearing Great War medal ribbons on his tunic.
‘Good evening, Captain!’ he greeted. ‘I haven’t seen you around here before. Do you have people in town?’
‘I’m Max Eckhardt. My Aunt is Frau Siegler.’ Max paused. Was Frau Siegler,’ he amended. ‘She is now Frau Zimmermann. She has a farm just out of town.’
‘I know her well. The farm is all right. Your brother is Kurt Eckhardt. He’s with a Panzer Regiment.’
‘That’s right. What happened here?’ Max glanced around, turning to look at the town mayor’s house, which was opposite and undamaged. He thought of Sonia Dressler, the mayor’s daughter, and ached to see her.
‘A bomber lost its way last month. It was hit over Hamburg and jettisoned its bombs as it tried to get away. But it came down seven miles to the west. The bombs struck here and killed six people. It was a bad night for Dettfeld.’
‘It must have been even worse for Hamburg,’ Max retorted. ‘How is the mayor’s family?’
‘Fine! You know Herr Dressler?’
‘I know Fraulein Dressler.’ Max saw a grin appear on the policeman’s face. ‘What’s funny?’ he demanded.
‘You must be the handsome SS Captain who is going to be a proud father in a few weeks,’ came the swift reply.
‘A baby for the Führer.’ Max nodded. ‘So I succeeded in doing my duty. I’ll call on the family later. I have three days left of my leave.’
He departed, walking out of town, feeling a desire for solitude. He had been looking forward to making love to Sonia again, for he felt the need to completely relax. It had been impossible to relax since his last leave months before, and great events had taken place since the previous autumn. A sigh gusted from him. He heard the sound of aero-engines and looked up to see tiny silver specks in the vast stratosphere. American bombers probably making a daylight raid on Berlin; his eyes clouded slightly, for Berlin had been his home for many years. Then he heard the faint rapping of machine-gun fire and narr
owed his eyes as he studied the blue heavens. There were Luftwaffe fighter planes up there, attacking those giant monsters of the sky. He saw puffs of smoke, then a quick flash and a dark smear. One of those bombers had been hit, he surmised, and halted to study the sky, looking for evidence of another of Germany’s enemies coming down. After what he had seen in the Ruhr he had no sympathy for anyone even remotely connected with the Allied airforces.
He continued walking. The planes were many thousands of feet high and their target lay in the .distance. He glanced around, feeling the cloak of alertness and duty slipping from his shoulders as he recognized landmarks. It was strange, but this was the only place in the world where he could really relax and forget who he was and his purpose in life. Here at the farm he did not have to remember that Germany was fighting for survival against many enemies. He could be human again, try to live as a normal man would. But he was aware that the many bitter memories in his mind might prevent him ever finding inner peace again.
When he reached the farm he paused by the gate to look around, being transported, as always, into the past and his distant childhood. He always felt a pang of regret that he had not been given the opportunity to live here as a boy. He had wanted that more than anything in the world, but his father had insisted upon taking him back to Berlin, and that fact alone had changed his whole way of life, had given him bitter memories and hatreds against the enemies of Germany. His father had taught him nationalism, and the Führer’s doctrines had seemed to fit in with his father’s teachings. Now his feet were set upon the path he had willingly chosen and there was nothing he could do about the direction he was taking even though it now seemed wrong. It was like being in the seat of a runaway vehicle. He was plunging headlong into disaster but was helpless to do anything about it. He could not even take the chance of jumping clear before the final crash. He had to sit tight and endure whatever came his way.
