by Alan David
‘I do, sir. Our house overlooked the River Havel near Spandau.’
‘So you at least will be on familiar ground. But make no mistake, gentlemen.’ Dantine’s voice lost its informal tone and became clipped and harsh. ‘We have a great deal of training ahead of us; hard, severe training. I think it is a pointer to what we can expect in the future. One thing I will say at this time is that I was not happy with the overall performance of this Company when the war started. It seemed that our men completely forgot all they had ever learned. So you may be sure that when I say the training will be tough then that is exactly what I mean.’
They were dismissed, and Eckhardt felt as though his soul had been released from bondage. He saw Fritz Leun and stopped the Sergeant-Major to speak with him, asking if Leun knew about the move.
‘I had heard a rumour, sir,’ Leun replied, smiling. ‘But I know better than to listen to tales from the ranks. But it is true, we are going back to Berlin.’
‘To Spandau.’ Eckhardt nodded. ‘That will bring back some memories.’
‘I know the barracks in Spandau,’ Leun mused. ‘They’re on a back road off Pichelsdorferstrasse, not far from the prison. But I doubt if we’ll go into the barracks. From what I’ve heard we’re going into a camp in the forest.’
‘I wish you’d pass on some of the rumours you hear,’ Eckhardt said, smiling. ‘However we shall be getting into trim for the coming war. I thought it would happen. I couldn’t see the British and the French letting us get away with taking Poland.’
‘You’ve been itching to have a crack at the French, sir, and I think your wishes will become reality. By the way! Congratulations on your promotion. We shall be working very closely together when you take over your new post.’
‘I expect I’ll have to take a course before they make me second in command, but I can’t see any land action taking place before the Spring. This is not the time of year to start fighting.’
‘Very true.’ Leun shrugged his massive shoulders and blinked as a cold wind tried to tear the skin from his craggy features. ‘I shan’t be sorry to get away from this place, sir. I haven’t liked what we’ve been doing here.’
Eckhardt suppressed a sigh and shook his head. ‘I wish you wouldn’t talk like that,’ he admonished. ‘I don’t want to hear it, and you are more than a comrade to me. You’re a link with my past, where my thoughts rest a great deal. I would hate for anything to happen to you because of careless talk, Leun.’
‘Sorry, sir. I was thinking aloud, that’s all. I know we did what had to be done, and Poland is a better place for it. But I was brought up in a different time from you, Herr Leutnant. I cannot reconcile myself to the fact that war should involve civilians.’
‘If you look at the situation as I do, that they are merely enemies of the State, your nights would not be so sleepless,’ Eckhardt retorted. ‘The Führer has not led us wrong yet, and I have the feeling that he never will. He is the leader and it is our duty to follow him. His orders must be obeyed if we are to prove ourselves to the rest of the world.’
‘Yes, sir!’ Leun saluted. ‘If you will excuse me, I have a great deal to do because of this move.’ He paused. ‘Did you hear anything more from your brother?’
‘I checked when he didn’t get in touch again, and learned that his regiment moved out to Sennelager the very next day. He was expecting to go, and was looking forward to some leave.’
‘Do you think we’ll get leave when we reach Berlin?’
‘It’s possible. If we do I shall visit the farm and see Aunt Gretel. I promised Kurt that I would, and I suppose I ought to, if only for old time’s sake.’
‘It would probably make your aunt very happy, sir.’ Leun saluted again, then departed.
Eckhardt watched the older soldier departing, and, in his mind’s eye, could see him as a younger man when he, himself, had been a youth. He wished his father were still alive, and felt a pang of loneliness as he returned to his platoon to pass on the news. But he was pleased with his promotion, and would not be satisfied until he reached the rank of major. With a new war probably going to start in the Spring, there was every chance of rapid promotion, and he was going to be decorated by the Führer himself when they reached Berlin. He drew a deep breath of pride and stiffened himself unconsciously.
It was at the end of the week when they moved out and boarded a train for Berlin. November was passing, and the countryside was cold, wet and grey. Eckhardt looked from the train window most of the time, noting the scenery, gazing at the devastated towns and villages through which they passed. There were miles of unbroken forests, and he idly wondered how many Polish partisans were concealed within their dark depths, little dreaming that in two years he would be fighting those very desperadoes in Poland and Russia and cursing them for their tenacity and ability to cause so much damage and trouble.
When they finally reached Berlin and detrained, they were taken by trucks to a camp near Spandau forest, and Eckhardt looked up at the large black letters of the slogan which adorned the gateway: WE ARE BORN TO DIE. He drew a sharp breath, for he was no stranger where death was concerned, but it had never come home to him that he might be one of those unfortunates who would have to pay the ultimate price for a German victory. If he had ever thought of the subject at all it was with the feeling that he was fated to survive, to reap the fruits of bloodshed and war.
There was a huge barracks square in the centre of the camp and most of the huts were under the trees. The battalion was mustered on the square and Colonel Spaten stood on a small dais to address them with the aid of a microphone and a public address system. Rain smeared down and the wind which cut at them was chill. Silence lay heavily upon the whole area, and the Colonel’s voice seemed to echo under the trees.
‘There is no time to waste now that we have arrived,’ he said, his words sounding like cracks of gunfire. ‘We must prepare ourselves for the bitter tasks which lie ahead. We are being brought up to strength, and those of you who did well in battle will receive your just reward. But this is not a rest camp, and from tomorrow we start an intensive training scheme. Make no mistake about that. It will be so tough that you will think it is worse than the real thing. The reason for this training, after you have conducted yourselves so well in Poland, is that the enemies facing us now are stronger and tougher than the Poles. We are surrounded by enemies and our only hope of defeating them lies in making ourselves stronger and more dedicated to the war which will come.
‘When the Führer sends us into action we will not fail him through lack of strength or readiness. We will be prepared to lay down our lives on the battlefield if it is required of us. That is all I have to say to you now. Your training, when it commences, will speak for itself. All I ask is that you never forget the purpose for it, which is there in the future, and in a few months I have no doubt that you will get all the opportunity to prove your loyalty to the Fatherland. We have a special place in the scheme of things, bearing, as we do, the name “Fatherland” as our Divisional title. Let no man besmirch it, for to do so would cast dishonour upon those who died so gallantly in Poland. When we do go into action again we shall be the finest soldiers in the world.’
The battalion was dismissed and the companies went to their areas, the platoons being shown into their huts by sergeants on the permanent staff. Eckhardt checked that his men were comfortable, then went to his own quarters, realising that another phrase of his life was about to start. He was no longer a Platoon Officer. As from tomorrow he would take over as second in command of the Company, and his promotion was already through. But he knew the next few months would pass quickly, and they were vital, for the battalion had to be brought to a state of readiness and fighting trim.
He was given a course to fit him for his new duties, and as the weeks went by he saw to the training of the men in the Company. At first he wondered if they could take it, for it seemed more strenuous and difficult than any fighting they had experienced in Poland. But he realised that by
the time the training ended these men would, indeed, be the finest soldiers in the world.
An event which warned them that their training might not be in vain took place at the end of November. For strategic reasons, Russia made certain territorial demands on Finland, and when they were refused, launched her army and air force against that tiny country. Eckhardt followed the course of the war intently, for his hatred of the Russians was matched only by his hatred of the French.
December began to run its course, and the winter proved to be hard, adding to the miseries of the intensive training. But grim reality taught them that their hard work would not be wasted. When they received news of the Battle of the River Plate, in which the pocket battleship ‘Admiral Graf Spee’ scuttled herself during the week before Christmas, an atmosphere of gloom descended upon the camp, which was in the iron clutches of frost and snow. Some of the men derided the navy, and Eckhardt agreed that the ship should have gone down fighting although the Führer had expressly ordered the scuttling.
They were given a week’s leave at Christmas, and Eckhardt went into the city to look around his old haunts. He stood on the spot in the Tiergarten where his father had been killed in a street fight years before, and his thoughts were bitter as he went on to an Officer’s Club and booked in. He had been undecided about visiting Aunt Gretel, but felt that he could not face her. She represented a world and a kind of living upon which he had turned his back and he did not want any distractions now.
He spent the leave quietly, and did not drink too much or have any use for women. He felt remote from the rest of the world. He had always been aloof and reticent by nature, but his experiences in Poland seemed to have sealed off his inner thoughts completely, and he was relieved when Christmas was over and it was time to return to the camp.
1940 dawned bleak and freezing. The training continued unabated, and the effects of the leave were soon erased from the minds of the men. The news, from abroad, when it was permitted to filter through, seemed ominous. The British Empire was rallying around its mother country, and the Russo-Finnish war was going badly for the Russians. Although greatly outnumbered, the Finns inflicted terrible losses upon the Russians, and it seemed to Eckhardt that if Germany declared war upon Russia they could conquer that vast country as easily as they had taken Poland.
On the Western Front there was no large-scale activity, although occasional artillery outbursts made the headlines, and newsreels showed German big guns on railway mountings firing at the unseen enemy. There was some patrol activity, but no French offensive materialised and, as January passed, Eckhardt became convinced that the French would remain content to sit behind their formidable Maginot Line and await developments.
The fighting continued to rage bitterly between the Russians and the Finns, with the Russians beginning to gain the initiative, and the situation seemed to change daily, with the Finns becoming hard pressed.
But for Eckhardt the highlight of the winter came when he was paraded before the Führer and decorated for his services in Poland. He received the Iron Cross First Class, and Hitler condescended to speak to him. He was overawed by the small man with the hypnotic brown eyes, and afterwards could not remember what he had replied to the Führer’s questions. But he returned to his quarters fired with a far greater determination to fight the enemies of the Third Reich.
In February he received a letter from Kurt, which had been forwarded by the military post office, informing him that Kurt was due to get married and that Aunt Gretel was going to marry Captain Zimmermann, Kurt’s Company Commander. He was asked if he could attend.
Max considered the request for some time, unsure of himself. A part of him wanted to go, wanted to see Aunt Gretel again and try to recapture that wonderful feeling of hope and love which he had felt for the little farm in his boyhood. But that small, inner self was covered by layers of successive years, each bearing its own scars and wounds, and he fought against the impulse to give in. But finally he spoke to Captain Dantine, showing him the letter, and Dantine insisted that he attend the double wedding. He was given seven days special leave and left Berlin on a train which carried him back into the past as it travelled west to drop him at the station of a little town some ten miles from Dettfeld.
There were some army vehicles drawn up outside the station, and Max approached one of the drivers. The Wehrmacht Gefreiter saluted, eyeing Eckhardt’s black dress uniform, the SS runes on his lapel, and eagerly agreed to give Eckhardt a lift when he learned of Max’s destination.
‘We are going right through Dettfeld, sir,’ he reported. ‘Our camp is just outside the village.’
Eckhardt sat in the cab of the truck and relaxed as it travelled through the snow-covered countryside, reliving the past, his mind in a kind of reverie as he thought of his boyhood. He had never been really happy since his father came back from the Great War. Klaus Eckhardt’s return had seemed to cast a cloud upon the life of his eldest son. But Max had loved his father, and now he cleared his mind of emotion and gazed around with mounting interest as they neared the village.
He was dropped outside the farm gate, and carried his small case as he turned to survey the scene. He had loved this farm in all seasons, for each had its own special charm, but at the moment he wished it was Spring, for he could almost smell the new-mown hay and see the wild flowers. But thoughts of Spring brought other facts to mind, and he sensed that when the time for mowing came there would be a desperate war raging.
He did not know what kind of a reception he would get for it had been a number of years since his last visit. He knew from Kurt’s letter that the double-wedding was due to take place in two days, and he was glad that he had come. He had to make some kind of gesture towards the family, for blood was certainly thicker than water. He knocked at the door, which was opened by a tall, beautiful, flaxen-haired girl who had smiling blue eyes, although her expression changed slightly when she saw his rather forbidding uniform.
‘Hello,’ Max said stiffly, forcing a smile. ‘I assume that you are Anna, Kurt’s bride-to-be.’
‘And you must be Kurt’s brother Max. Please come in.’ She stepped aside, opening the door wider, and Max entered, removing his hat. ‘I’m so sorry that I didn’t recognise you. I don’t suppose you remember me from the village, but I do remember seeing you around although not for a long time.’ She spoke quickly, as if forcing herself to be polite, and Max looked into her face to see shadows in her pale eyes.
‘I don’t remember you,’ he admitted. ‘But then I never mixed with the villagers when I came here. It was usually just a day visit with my father, although we did stay the odd weekend. Is my aunt around?’
‘You weren’t expected.’ She shook her head. ‘I know Kurt wrote you but you didn’t reply. They were hoping you would come, and here you are. You’re certainly going to be a pleasant surprise. But they’ve gone into Hamburg with Captain Zimmermann. I didn’t go because I had a special fitting of my wedding dress.’
She took his hat and Max removed his greatcoat, handing it to her, watching her closely as she went to a closet. She was really beautiful, and he wondered how Kurt had managed to get himself such a prize. As she turned to him, smiling although her eyes were clouded, he wondered if his life could have been changed to any great extent by the presence in it of a woman.
‘I’m sorry if I seem rather concerned by your appearance,’ she apologised. ‘I have heard so much about you, and I know how much your aunt wanted you to come.’
‘I expect what you heard wasn’t to my good, eh?’ he asked, following her into the parlour.
‘On the contrary. They say quite of lot of good things about you.’
‘My uniform frightens you.’ He spoke in a sharp tone, and knew by her changing expression that it was so although she began a vehement denial. ‘It’s all right. I know the SS have quite a reputation. But I am a fighting soldier, just like Kurt.’
‘You were decorated by the Führer.’ She glanced at his cross and ribbon. ‘You must
have seen a lot of terrible fighting. I’ve asked Kurt about Poland but he won’t talk about it.’
‘Then he is very wise. It is not something one would care to discuss over the dinner table.’
‘Can I get you something to eat or drink?’
‘I had some food on the train, thank you, but I would like a schnapps, if there is any in the house.’
‘Aunt Gretel never had strong drink in the house until Captain Zimmermann came home. I’ll get you a glass.’ She hurried from the room, and Max sighed heavily as he relaxed and looked around, crossing to a sideboard to look at some nick-nacks upon it which he remembered from his boyhood.
Coming into this house was like stepping into the past, and there was pain in his breast as he considered. He was not like any normal young man, he reminded himself, and knew his upbringing had cast him in a brittle mould. But he could not help his nature or temperament, and when Anna returned he thanked her gently for the schnapps. They sat down and he tried to react normally to her, but he could not lose the feeling that she was afraid of him, or, rather, afraid of his uniform.
‘Tell me about yourself,’ he said. ‘Let me see if I can place you.’
‘I should be easy to remember. My father is the village policeman, and has been for many years.’
‘Ah!’ Max nodded. ‘I do remember him, and he sometimes had a young girl with him. That would have been you.’
She seemed easier after that, and by the time a car arrived outside the house they were chatting like old friends and Max had unbent a great deal. Anna sprang up and hurried to the door of the room when she heard the car.
‘You must surprise them,’ she said delightedly. ‘Please go and stand behind the front door so they can’t see you when they come in.’
He smiled, wanting to please her, for she was about to become a member of the family, and went into the hall to stand behind the front door as it was pushed open from outside. Kurt entered, his arms laden with packages, and he paused and called.
