by Soren Petrek
Rommel made a decision. Although not technically his responsibility, he knew that an investigation had to be completed. He wanted there to be examples of propriety and adherence to the rules of war followed by German officers when future generations considered the whole bloody mess of this war. He was not going to be said to have turned a blind eye. His troops did not engage in such conduct. He could not fathom how any man could condone such savagery. He walked out into the adjoining office where his aides and staff officers were located and called an aide aside.
“Find out where Major Horst Stenger is located. He is military police. Once you have him located, place a call to him immediately. Contact me as soon as you have found him.”
Rommel walked back into his office and collected the papers on his desk. It was time to move. He commanded from the front and expected his officers to do the same. The fight was right down the road along with his duty. If his old friend and comrade in arms, Horst Stenger, couldn’t get to the bottom of what happened in Ouradour, no one could. Horst was brave and smart. He had a tenacity that when unleashed was inspiring. Rommel had commanded him in the first war. Stenger had proven himself beyond measure. Horst would find out what happened and produce a report for Berlin that would also bear Rommel’s name. One last act of decency, even if he knew in his heart no one would be punished.
Stenger’s face blanched as he listened to his old commander over the phone.
“Horst, I’m not sure what happened over there, but I do know that over eight hundred civilians were massacred,” Rommel said quietly into the phone.
“General, I don’t know what to say except that I will find out.”
“Thank you, my old friend and comrade. Of course, remember that they’re SS and highly unlikely to take kindly to your involvement.”
“Is this widely known yet?”
“It’s out there enough so that Das Reich and that fool Lammerding will tread lightly. I’m sure that Lammerding will blame some subordinate, claiming he had no direct knowledge of it. I just want names and their personal actions. I have dispatched a courier to give you the appropriate orders. You should have them in your hands before the end of the day. Now I’m off to the front. I trust your decisions more than my own sometimes, Horst”
“Is there anything but war for us, Erwin?” Stenger asked, speaking to a friend who he sensed he might never see again.
“I think not for me, Horst. Make sure there is for you and Willi You two are the best soldiers I have ever known.” With that Rommel slowly set down the receiver and abruptly walked out of his office.
Stenger walked back to the kitchen of the small police station and found Madeleine and Willi playing cards and filling the little room with cigarette smoke. They both looked up, sensing something wrong.
“What’s happened, Major?” Madeleine asked, her face suddenly serious.
“That was Field Marshal Erwin Rommel calling me about some police work,” Stenger replied.
“Did it concern me?” Madeleine asked simply.
“No, Madeleine. All I seem to have left is my word and I have given it.”
Madeleine nodded. Her hopes had not been misplaced. She desperately wanted her war to be over and was content to sit it out in the comfort of the little police station and wait for the British. She was after all a British agent and she had some back pay coming.
“What do you need from me?” Willi said, concern on his face. Stenger could never hide anything from Willi. They read each other’s emotions openly.
“Just stay here for now, Willi. I’m taking a trip. Strictly police business. I am afraid it is bad business.”
“I thought we were out of that now,” Willi said with a sad smile, trying to lighten the mood a little bit.”
“This is a direct request from General Rommel. He needs a report on some SS activity,” Stenger said, skirting the truth. He had not failed to notice the flash of interest in Madeleine’s eyes as he mentioned the SS.
“Remember, mademoiselle, you are retired,” Stenger said, giving Madeleine a meaningful glance.
“Of course,” Madeleine smiled demurely, slightly inclining her head.
Stenger looked at Madeleine. She was so beautiful, in the way that only daughters of the Mediterranean can be. The years of killing and running hadn’t harmed her savage beauty. In the last few days he had learned more about her and concluded that his decision to spare her might have been one of the best decisions of his life. There was no bloodthirstiness in her.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Stenger rode with a small detachment of regular army troops past the small road sign marking the entrance to the doomed town of Ouradour. Their vehicle pulled up to a roadblock staffed by some SS troops.
“May I help you, Major?” the soldier asked, having made no move to have the truck blocking further access to the town moved.
“Yes, you can move that truck and let me through.”
“Can’t sir. My orders are to allow no one in without permission from General Lammerding.”
“How about permission from his senior officer Field Marshall Erwin Rommel?” Stenger said handing over an enclosed case holding one of several copies of his orders signed by the Field Marshall.
“I, I don’t know if…” the soldier said, clearly confused.
“See this insignia, corporal? Military police. I am giving you a direct order. If you do not follow it I will have you shot on the spot. Perhaps I’ll order one of those fellows to do it.” Stenger had allowed his voice to build until he was shouting. He had stood up in the vehicle and unbuttoned the flap covering his side arm. The corporal’s eyes had grown to the size of saucers as he shrunk in the face of Stenger’s barrage.
“Move that truck,” the corporal stammered as he hastened to distance himself from Stenger and his pistol.
Stenger intentionally glared at the corporal as they passed and the men proceeded into the town. As they entered the outskirts Stenger’s driver slowed. It wasn’t long before the men in the vehicle grew silent as they surveyed the damage. It seemed as if every building had been demolished and then set on fire. Stenger’s face was grim as he directed the driver to stop in the village square.
“Spread out, I want pictures and notes taken. We will meet back in an hour.” Stenger said, exiting the vehicle.
The men moved cautiously, as if on hallowed ground. It was clear that something evil had taken place. Stenger didn’t have to walk far before he saw signs that a crime scene had been compromised. Heavy equipment had been used to move earth and, presumably, bodies. There was evidence in every building he looked into of arson and cremation. In their haste, charred body parts had been overlooked as they had been hastily collected and most likely shoved into communal graves. An untrained eye might have missed the pieces of human bone scattered everywhere. To Stenger it represented an unmistakable trail of evidence. It looked like a bone yard.
Walking out from the perimeter of the town, Stenger approached the remnants of a small church and looked inside. He saw more than one child’s clog that had not been completely engulfed by the flames and explosions that had ravaged the church. He saw blood cooked by the intense heat into the porous stone floor of the building. Tears stood in his eyes as he realized the true magnitude of the barbarity that had obliterated the people of the small town. He had seen carnage in war, and as a detective in civilian life. He had seen dead children, both as casualties of war and as victims of the worst of crimes. He knew instinctively that hundreds of women and children had died in the most horrible manner imaginable within the confines of a house of God. The evidence was beyond dispute. He raised his own camera and began to take pictures, having to stop periodically to wipe tears from his eyes so that he could do his work and record the shadows that remained of an unspeakable act that demanded justice. He knew that his report would be read with the usual degree of efficiency and then no significant action would be taken. Stenger shook his head silently, horrified that such a crime would go unpunished and the
victims forgotten. He was not so calloused by war that his humanity was corrupted. In truth it was the one thing that saw him through his first war, killing to keep himself and his friends alive. Humanity drove him to pursue a life of service and to hunt down those that preyed on innocence.
Once he finished, Stenger went back to the church for one last look. He was about to make the hardest decision of his life, and he wanted to be as close to God and the victims of the town as possible. As he looked inside his eyes caught sight of a small, smoke damaged crucifix nailed up in a recessed area that had escaped the brunt of the damage. The small figure of Christ seemed to be looking at him silently, imploring the decision that took root in his mind. The German high command might never seek to punish the guilty, but he knew somebody who would, a champion so fierce that nothing could keep her from getting revenge.
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
Madeleine sat silently looking at the photographs Stenger quietly set down in front of her as he explained the situation. Willi silently examined the floor as the enormity of the crime settled upon them.
“You are sure this is Oradour sur Glane, Major Stenger?” Madeleine said in a steady, even tone. There was neither pain nor anger in her voice, only the cold distant promise of retribution.
“Yes, Ms. Toche,” Stenger said, adopting a little formality as he felt the transformation begin in Madeleine. She had been showing signs of trust and happiness. It was clear that a friendship was developing between them.
“Everyone?”
“If they were in town.”
“My cousin and her four year old daughter then?”
“I have no way to know, I am sorry.”
Madeleine nodded almost imperceptibly, acknowledging her belief in Stenger’s compassion. She remembered mentioning to Stenger that she had family in the region days before the tragedy occurred.
“I appreciate you telling me. It is a demonstration of trust and I cannot tell you how I have lacked an ability to trust for so long. Had this information come to me before I was captured I would have killed every officer responsible and every soldier under their command that I could find. I am bound by my oath although every tiny piece of me is screaming for revenge. I cannot explain it, Major. It lives inside me and its strength is terrible to resist.”
“What I am about to say I will deny if ever questioned. I am a soldier and a police officer. I trust in the law and justice but that is impossible here. Something must be done, something I cannot do,” Stenger said, his eyes locking on hers.
Madeleine watched Stenger walk over to a beat up old cupboard over the sink. He reached in and took out a small bundle and placed it on the table along with a box of ammunition. He unwrapped the contents and handed them over to Madeleine. She silently accepted her pistol and silencer, remembering another man she held in the highest regard hand her a similar pistol years ago in another kitchen. Willi watched, a sadness crossing his face as the realization of what was happening set in.
“Willi, I gave my word to you,” Madeleine said giving him the final say.
“When you go, keep your head down, soldier. Das Reich are animals,” he said as he stood and walked out of the room, gently placing his hand on her shoulder in affirmation as he passed.
Without another word Madeleine stood, tucking the pistol under her clothing.
“Any idea where and who, Major?” Madeleine asked as if ordering a cup of coffee on the terrace of some quaint cafe.
“I believe a Major Diekmann was in command. By now they should be in Normandy, possibly around Caen.” Stenger said without hesitation.
“We will meet again, Major.”
“Yes, we will mademoiselle. I know of a lovely little restaurant just off the beach in La Ciotat,” Stenger said, a grim little smile playing on the corner of his lips his internal struggle rending him inside. He hoped he was right.
“You and Willi keep your heads down too,” Madeleine said and left the room without further preamble.
Stenger waited and Willi walked back into the room shortly after she left.
“We never really caught her, did we, Horsty?” Willi said placing a bottle of cognac and two coffee cups on the table.
“You can’t catch the night, Willi. You can’t catch the night,” Stenger almost whispered, holding his cup up as Willi poured.
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
John Trunce looked at the little scrap of map he had and knew he was lost. He was roughly where he was supposed to be, but the fight was behind him. Not only was he behind enemy lines, he was behind the enemy. He needed to find the fight, and then get back through and find the American army, if he could. That would be step one; he’d find his company after that.
Madeleine walked into a small hotel in a village approximately thirty miles from the front. She traveled more openly under the auspices of returning home from employment in the south. There was little likelihood that anyone had time to look for the Angel of Death with the decisive campaign of the war being waged in Normandy. She had covered a great deal of distance with little or no concrete idea of where or how she would find Das Reich, much less Major Diekmann. He was first on the list. Her plan was to move towards the first allied army she could find and get word to London. The SOE would know where Das Reich was, and then she would. The fact that she would have to cross both the German and Allied lines didn’t faze her. She knew she could pick an easier area on the edge of the fighting and make her way through. All she knew at this point was to make her way towards Carentan. It was pivotal strategically for both sides. She knew that if she tried to travel straight North she would be heading towards the more heavily reinforced German areas. She avoided Resistance groups along the way. She had operated alone for this long; she didn’t want to get sidetracked or captured. It was best this way. She could tell from the demeanor of the civilians she encountered and spoke with where the battle was headed. No one knew for sure, and by no means had the French declared victory. Most people just prayed that their town would be spared as the two Goliaths pounded one another. Her cover story was always the same, she was waiting to meet a relative leaving a town in the path of battle. It got her closer with each day. Her plan was simple and familiar. She would locate Diekmann’s regiment, then the man himself, and put a bullet in his eye. She knew she couldn’t kill them all in the midst of a pitched battle. She would find him when he came off the line. He was a Major, after all, and would be directing battle as orders came down from command. Northern France was a vast area to be looking for one man, but she knew that if his division was engaged he would be there and she would find him.
Madeleine had eaten a good meal and was able to find a room in a small family hotel. Most people were moving away from the battle. The proprietors were much like her family. Once you’ve poured your love into a business, leaving it behind is unthinkable. The family was as resolute as hers would be. When the battle came, they would lock the front door, put a ‘closed’ sign in the window and retreat to the basement until the storm passed.
She was no farther than thirty miles away from Carentan and knew that she was approaching the rear of the German army. The closer she got the more immediate she felt the need for something more powerful than two small caliber pistols. She had trained with everything the SOE provided. She wanted to avoid open combat, but she knew it was a possibility. She would be conspicuous in any event and intended to keep to the shadows as much as possible. If she could find a German MP-34 machine pistol she would be content with that. It had massive firepower and could take out a platoon of men in seconds. Her plan was to kill an SS soldier and “borrow” his.
John Trunce hid among the brambles of a hedgerow as a small German patrol walked by. They were moving quietly, speaking in whispers. They were disciplined and experienced troops. He waited to see if they were indeed alone, scanning the area in all directions for stragglers or a rear guard. He had been trained in ambush and had killed several men during action in Italy. Once the men passed he stepped from his hiding place
and shot them in rapid succession. He moved quickly over to investigate. The three were dead and he checked them for anything that might let him know more precisely where he was. He stripped the men of their weapons and slung one of the machine guns and some extra ammo over his shoulder. He also found grenades and what turned out to be an old road map. It was crude, but he was glad to have it. He knew that he was somewhere near Carentan, having spotted a road sign earlier. Knowing where he was, all he had to do now was decide where he was going. He pulled the dead soldiers off the road and under the cover of the hedgerows that seemed to be everywhere. He had hardened since the excitement of his first taste of combat in Italy. Even then, as scared as he and his buddies had been he always was able to temper that fear with confidence. He knew it made his chances of survival and doing his duty that much more likely. A soldier without fear gets people killed, but then so does a soldier who is paralyzed by fear. He was something in between, a good soldier.
Madeleine woke up in the middle of the night. There were still many hours before dawn. She decided it was time to move cross-country, find the front, and then try to skirt it. She gave no consideration to waiting until the country was liberated. She could not take the chance that Diekmann would be captured or be withdrawn to where she couldn’t reach him. She left the hotel, having paid for her lodging the previous evening. She walked out of the town and headed north across the first field she found.
