by Alan David
‘I wouldn’t have his job for anything in the world,’ Hohner said, gazing after the truck. ‘If he gets hit then it’s the big flame for him. No chance of baling out and making a run for it. Have you seen one of them going up in flames?’
‘Too many times,’ Schultze said gutturally. ‘Shut up about it, Hohner. What are you trying to do, scare us?’
Hohner shrugged and climbed upon the back of the tank. He peered around.
‘Those bloody stubble-hoppers didn’t even try to attack the Tommies,’ he observed. ‘We moved up front and stirred up all that trouble. We lost some Panzers, and all those stinking infantrymen did was get down behind the nearest hedge and dig in. Look at them over there. They’re not planning on going forward again today, are they? The next thing you’ll know, they’ll be inviting the British over for coffee. We’re not going to throw that lot back into the sea just by making threatening gestures. We’ve got to go over there and knock the hell out of them:
‘It would be a simple matter if it wasn’t for their airforce,’ Weilen commented. ‘Now we know what it must have been like for our enemies when we started our Blitzkrieg in ‘39, hein?’
Kurt made no reply. His eyes took on undefinable shadows when he thought back over the years to ‘39. It all seemed a lifetime ago. So many men had been killed, so many countless miles traversed, and for what? Here they were in France, where they had gained an overwhelming victory in ‘4o, but now the boot was on the other foot. No one, back in ‘4o, could have visualised the wheel turning full circle within four years. But it was so, and nothing could change that fact. The future seemed very bleak. There could be no hope for them. Kurt tightened his lips, afraid to pursue his line of thought further. He had a wife and family at home, and if he failed to pull back out of battle one day then they would have to learn to forget him and fend for themselves.
‘Sergeant-Major, there are aircraft coming this way,’ Niehause reported, and Kurt turned swiftly, his gaze flitting around to ensure that all their equipment was under cover.
‘Get down under the Panzer and remain still,’ he ordered quickly. ‘Let’s hope they don’t spot us.’
They dived under the armoured vehicle and lay as dead, and seconds later the entire wood was torn apart by waves of aircraft diving in turn to devastate it. Terrific explosions rippled and blasted, and trees were uprooted and splintered. The air became thick with the fumes of high explosive, and they were battered by the intense attack. Kurt had no idea whether their position had been spotted or whether the Allies were attacking the area because it looked like good cover. They were fairly safe under their Panzer, unless it received a direct hit, and there was nothing they could do but lie mindless in the blustering hell. Long minutes passed and the attack was pressed home. Dimly they heard the cries of wounded in the strange lulls that fell at odd moments, but no one was moving around. The stretcher-bearers would not come out of their cover until the attack ended.
Kurt closed his mind to his surroundings and tried to picture his wife and children. A fatalistic calm had seized hold of him, as it always did in moments of extreme fear. He occupied himself with trying to picture the faces of his children, and the nightmare erupting about him could not reach him. It was the only way he knew to retain his sanity.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Max Eckhardt brooded sombrely in bed that first night he spent at the farm. His well-disciplined life seemed to be falling apart and he could not understand it. He had always performed his duty to the best of his ability, and a few reverses in the field had not seemed to make much difference to the grand scheme of things. But suddenly he was aware that everything was changing. Nothing could ever be the same again. Time altered the situation daily, and if those changes were so slow as to be imperceptible it did not mean that they were not taking place, and suddenly they all added up to a massive change.
He slept with the dull rumble of exploding bombs in the background, and when he looked from the bedroom window after a particularly heavy series of detonations he saw an ominous glow in the sky in the direction of Hamburg. The port was being bombed continuously, and he wondered if there was anything left for the Allies to hit.
The next morning he arose fairly late and went down to find Aunt Gretel listening to the BBC news on the radio. He began to remonstrate when she lifted a hand to command silence, and stood eyeing her grimly, angry with her and out of humour. Nothing was going right.
Aunt Gretel suddenly switched off the radio and twisted the tuner to remove the needle from the BBC station. She looked at Max with an impassive face.
‘Well?’ he demanded roughly. ‘What lying propaganda are they putting out this morning?’
‘The Allies have entered Rome,’ she said quietly. ‘You said yesterday that it would take them months.’
‘I don’t believe it!’ He shook his head fiercely. ‘That must be a special programme they broadcast for the likes of you. It suits their purpose to fill the German population with gloom and despondency. People are being shot all over Germany for listening to such nonsense.’
‘Call it what you like. It seems to fit in with what’s happening. We hear the air raids that are taking place. You said yourself that you have seen the Ruhr being devastated. Do you know they are sending over one thousand bombers each day? The RAF at night and the Americans during the day. Surely you have seen those great monsters they are using. Some of the bombs weigh ten tons. They destroy whole streets. We never had anything like that when we were attacking.’
Max shook his head in frustration. ‘Aunt, I can’t take much more of this. You talk as if this whole war is my responsibility.’
‘You are responsible in a way,’ she told him firmly. ‘You supported Hitler and his ideals. Look where they have led us. God knows how many thousands of innocent women and children are being killed in the cities. Every day and night they are being bombed. Those big bombs are not just falling on military targets. Whole residential areas are being flattened.’
Max sighed and turned away impatiently. ‘I’m leaving today,’ he said resolutely. ‘I shan’t come back, Aunt Gretel. I can see that there is a wide gulf between us. As far as I’m concerned I’ve only been doing my duty, like the rest of the armed forces. Why blame me for what’s happening? I’ve only been fighting Germany’s enemies. What about Kurt? Do you give him this treatment when he comes home?’
‘Kurt doesn’t believe in the war. He never wanted to go in the first place. He hates every minute of it. But you glorify war. You’ve made a profession out of the misery and death of others. Max, when will you learn that your way is wrong?’
‘What would you have me do?’ he asked quietly, gazing into her eyes. ‘Shall I return to my unit and tell the Colonel I won’t take part in action again? What do you think would happen to me if I even hinted that I did not like what was going on? I would soon become a victim as much as the people being killed by Allied bombs.’
‘Max, I don’t want you to go.. I’m sorry for the way I’ve spoken to you. I can still see you as a little boy. I loved you then and I love you now. It’s because of my love that I worry about you. The SS have done some terrible’ things. If you are ever caught by the Allies what do you think they will do to you?’
‘I’m not concerned about the future,’ he retorted. ‘The present is hard enough to bear. Everything has changed. The people cheered us when we marched into Austria and attacked Poland. They called us heroes when we took France and kicked the British into the sea at Dunkirk. Now, because things are not going right any more, we are villains. It is not good enough. You don’t know how many brave and loyal Germans laid down their lives for those victories you all enjoyed so much.’
‘We are losing this war and it should be stopped to save lives. Nothing can be gained by continuing it except more damage and death. Why do we fight on?’ Aunt Gretel shook her head helplessly. ‘I can remember the huge loss of life we suffered in the Great War. That is being repeated now. It’s a sinful waste.’
Max shook his head. Will you give me some breakfast before I leave?’ he asked.
She came to him, putting her arms around his neck. ‘Max, my boy! You’ve always been a son to me. I don’t know what the answers are to Germany’s problems. I fear it is already out of our hands. We gave up all rights when we brought the Führer to power. All we can do now is suffer the awful consequences of our action. I don’t want you to leave here with bad feelings between us. If you can’t see what lies ahead then you are not to be blamed for that. I am older than you. I suspect that is the reason why I see everything so clearly. I hope you will survive this terrible business. It is dragging on and on. God knows it should be finished. Come and sit down and I will give you breakfast. When you leave you must take my love with you in your heart. I want only what is right for you.’
‘This is wartime,’ he responded curtly. ‘None of us are free agents. We all have to do what we are told. That’s all I can say. I don’t have any personal view of the future. All I know is that I have to go on fighting while I am ordered to do so.’
He ate breakfast in silence, but his thoughts were fast-moving and he decided to leave that day. After breakfast he informed Aunt Gretel of his decision and she wept on his shoulder. But he was adamant, and kissed her cheek when he was ready to depart.
‘I’ll write to let you know where I’m going,’ he said. ‘I think I understand your attitude, Aunt. Don’t worry about it, and don’t share it with anyone outside this house. I don’t want to learn that you have been arrested. If Kurt comes home on leave then give him my best regards. I hope the war will be kind to him. If I get leave again in future I’ll come and see you, and perhaps it will not be so difficult then.’
‘My poor Max,’ she said. ‘Matters can only get worse, much worse.’
He took his leave of Anna and patted the children on the head, then slung his knapsack from his shoulder and departed. He looked back once and saw Aunt Gretel standing at the door, waving to him. He waved in reply then turned his back upon the farm, and as he went on he cut from his mind all the fond boyhood memories he had cherished over the years. One had to get rid of such encumbrances if the mind would be unfettered for total war. He walked into Dettfeld, got a lift on a truck going south, and went back to the hell that was the Ruhr.
It was late evening when he finally reached Gutersbrucke and reported to the barracks. When he entered the Officers’ Mess he found Colonel Dantine there alone. His superior was surprised to see him.
‘You’re not expected back before tomorrow, Captain. I trust you found everyone well at home.’
‘Yes, thank you, sir,’ he responded. ‘But the inactivity of home life did not sit too well upon my shoulders. I am relieved to be back.’
‘The Battalion is out on rescue work but will return at dawn,’ Dantine said. ‘We are on alert, Eckhardt. I’m expecting movement orders to come through at any time.’
‘Have you any idea where we might be going?’
‘I haven’t been able to get even the faintest notion, but the Battalion is up to strength once more and we must expect to be thrust into the line wherever we will be most needed. We’ll give a good account of ourselves no matter where they send us.’
Eckhardt nodded. He finished his drink and went to bed early. His slumbers were disturbed by bursting bombs, but it was a sound to which he had become accustomed, and he drowsed until his door was thrust open just after dawn. He raised himself up on one elbow, blinking as he recognized the small figure of Colonel Dantine. The Battalion was still out on rescue work.
‘Something wrong, sir?’ he demanded.
‘I’ve just had word from Brigade HQ. There’s a report of an Allied landing in Normandy. It may merely be a raid, but many troops are coming ashore.’ Dantine paused in the doorway. ‘I’ll have to go to Brigade, Eckhardt, and I’ll be away quite some time. When the Battalion returns I want it confined to barracks. If there is some action going on then we want to be in on it, don’t we?’
‘Yes, sir!’ Eckhardt started to rise, and smiled wryly as Dantine hurried away. He sat upon the foot of his bed, his mind coming to full alertness, and pictured a map of France, pinpointing Normandy and trying to remember the coast there. But it was four years since he had last been in France and his memory was hazy. So much had happened in the intervening years.
He dressed and went down to the Mess for breakfast. Afterwards he went along to the Intelligence Office and asked to see a large-scale map of France. The Intelligence officer had no fresh news regarding the Allied landing, but it appeared to be a big operation.
‘Everyone has been saying that the Second Front will come in the Pas de Calais area,’ Eckhardt mused. ‘I suppose this Normandy landing could be a diversion intended to draw our reserves into this area in order to give their main landing a better chance of getting ashore.’
‘If the Normandy landings are not the main ones then the Allies are about to mount a massive offensive in France,’ the I.O. observed.
Eckhardt gazed at the man’s impassive face for a moment then nodded slowly. ‘You’re right. And if that is the case then we can expect more action than we’ve ever seen before.’
He left the office and was waiting in his Company Lines when the Battalion returned from its rescue work. The men were dirty and exhausted, grumbling a little as they were dismissed. All they wanted to do was get some breakfast and then turn in for a couple of hours. They stiffened at the sight of Eckhardt, and he ordered Sergeant-Major Leun to call them to attention while he spoke. They watched him impassively as he broke the news to them. There was little reaction; they were too tired to care about what was taking place in France. They had seen their share of action in other countries, and most likely they expected to be sent back to Russia.
Eckhardt dismissed them and returned to the Officers’ Mess. There was a great deal of speculation among his colleagues but he stayed clear of it. He preferred facts to flights of fancy, and rumours had no place in his way of life. It was late afternoon when Colonel Dantine returned from Brigade HQ, and he was tense and serious as he called the officers to attention. Eckhardt, studying his superior’s face, realized that there was a crisis pending for the Division, and waited stoically to learn of it. Dantine soon dispelled any doubts.
‘Gentlemen, I am to inform you that the Allies have five beach-heads on the Normandy coast and are pouring men and materials ashore. It is a massive operation, but not one which is considered to be the main offensive. We are to hold ourselves ready to move at thirty minutes’ notice, so have your Companies prepared. We are going into France. No doubt we shall be held in reserve until it is known where the main Allied landings will be made, but you can be assured that there is still plenty of fighting to be done. I want this Battalion to move out within twenty minutes of the alert being sounded, and we are going to prove to everyone that we have the finest battalion in the Brigade.’
Eckhardt listened to the familiar pep-talk, and afterwards went to his Company to pass on the news. It was just after midnight when the order for them to move out came through, and the skies over the Ruhr were aflame with anti-aircraft fire and the glow of many fires as they climbed into trucks and were conveyed swiftly through the short night. Eckhardt sat in the cab of the leading truck of his Company and peered intently into the darkness. His thoughts seemed frozen in his mind and he could not push aside the knowledge that Aunt Gretel thought Germany had already failed in its bid for world domination. His frustrations made him irritable, and he could not bring himself to think constructively.
Their route took them around the Ruhr, for heavy bombing continued day and night in the area. Their trucks roared on, heading south, and they made short stops for food. There was an air of anticipation: they were going back into action.
When night came they continued, and sometime during darkness they crossed the border and entered France. Daylight found them pushing towards the coast to the west of Paris, and soon they came within the range of Allied fighter-bombers c
arrying out daylight sweeps.
Their first intimation of air activity came when the column was attacked by several fighter-bombers which flailed them with automatic fire. The trucks stopped and men tumbled out of them, running for cover. They dropped into ditches at the side of the road and lay helpless under the diving machines that sent streams of tracers at them. Trucks were bombed and machine-gunned, many of them bursting into flames. Interminable minutes passed and the enemy aircraft maintained their attack until they were satisfied that they had destroyed the entire column. When they finally departed, flying back towards the coast, the survivors crawled out of their cover and arose to take stock of the situation.
Eckhardt saw that most of their transport had been hit, and many of the vehicles were burning fiercely. Ammunition was exploding in the fires. Those trucks that could be salvaged were dragged clear of the inferno, and mechanics had to cannibalize some trucks in order to repair others. Roll calls were made of each Company and casualties received attention. Eckhardt saw that he had suffered seven dead and ten wounded in his Company alone, and when he gazed around he estimated that all Companies had been similarly hit. Their strength had been reduced before they even reached the forward area.
Before they could move out again another air raid developed swiftly, but men were posted to watch for the Jabos and, with more adequate warning, they managed to get under cover before action commenced. Eckhardt lay in a ditch with Leun at his side, and the ground tremored as bombs exploded and streams of machine-gun and cannon-fire lashed at them.
When the second attack ceased they had suffered more casualties, and Eckhardt, along with other Company Commanders, was summoned to Dantine’s HQ. The Colonel was in a towering rage.
‘This is hell!’ he snapped. ‘If it’s a sample of what we can expect in France then how can we be expected to reach our destination?’ He paused and glared around at his subordinates as if expecting one of them to come up with a solution. Eckhardt gritted’ his teeth and remained silent. Dantine continued. ‘We can’t use transport during daylight, that’s obvious, so the Companies will begin marching. Ensure that the proper distance is maintained between formations, and for God’s sake have men watching for aircraft. At the first sign of attack get under cover and stay there.’
