The Unquiet Grave

by David J Oldman

  Barring bad injury, there was a good chance that Müller and Richter were still being held in one of the POW camps. Until earlier in the year, apart from men who had been hospitalized, there had been no repatriation at all of German POWs. There were still tens of thousands of them in the country, working mostly in either construction or agriculture. Repatriation had finally started, but only of those prisoners deemed not to have been hard-core Nazis. And SS would have been rated as hard-core. I was pretty confident that we were going to find someone like SS-Obersturmführer Franz Müller was still kicking his jackbooted heels in one or other of the camps.

  Before Jekyll arrived I got everyone together in the front office to make sure we had got our facts straight so as not to contradict each other when the time came.

  While I was at lunch Peter had returned from consulting 7th Hampshires’ War Diaries. He had also turned up a blackboard and chalk from somewhere and was drawing a diagram of Operation Jupiter on it. He had even acquired a swagger stick with which he planned to point out the salient details to Jekyll. More impressive still was a new map he had managed to get hold of: an Institut Géographique National map——the French equivalent of our Ordnance Survey. It was a good scale, 1:25,000, and detailed the exact area west of Caen we were interested in. It had been over-printed by the Intelligence unit of 43rd Division and showed the position of several Panzer Groups and two Divisions. Where Peter had managed to lay his hands on the map I’d no idea but, treating it as too precious to mark, he was using the blackboard for diagrams and would only go as far as sticking pins in his precious map. He was transferring the flags from the old map to the new as I watched.

  ‘The map was overprinted before the Jupiter offensive and turned out less than accurate unfortunately.’ He ran a hand over the map’s contours. ‘German strength was underestimated. That’s why breaking out into the open ground beyond the River Orne proved so difficult.’

  That hardly came as a surprise. Most armies tend to underestimate their enemy. Two years down the road, though, it was water under the bridge——or maybe down the Orne; what mattered most was demonstrating to Colonel G that we were on top of the job.

  ‘Susie gave me the photocopy of Richter’s diary. I’ve got the translation here.’ He rummaged through the paper on his desk.

  ‘You’ve done it already?’

  ‘You’re only interested in July 10th and 11th aren’t you? The entries were short, it wasn’t too difficult.’

  ‘What does it say?’

  Peter peered at his own handwriting as if he found it harder to decipher than Richter’s German. ‘What was left of the 25th SS-Panzer Grenadiers pulled out of Caen on July 8th,’ he said, ‘as we already knew. According to Richter, the remnants of his platoon occupied some buildings near Maltot. Somewhere he calls the Strandhaus.’

  ‘What’s that in English?’

  ‘Translates as beach house.’

  ‘But there isn’t a beach there,’ I said. ‘It’s miles from the sea.’

  ‘There’s the river,’ Stan suggested.

  ‘The Orne,’ Peter agreed. ‘It must have been somewhere on the river.’

  ‘Is the château near where the carrier was found on the river?’

  ‘I don’t think so. Apart from the Château de Fontaine which is some distance from Maltot to the north-west, the only château I’ve found near the village that was mentioned in the War Diaries is the Château de Maltot.’

  ‘How many châteaux can there be in a place the size of Maltot?’ said Stan.

  ‘Quite,’ I said, ‘and the carrier wasn’t actually at the château and there’s no reason to suppose Richter and the rest of Müller’s platoon were there either. It was probably an HQ or command post so they’d probably be nearby.’

  Peter grunted in a way I’d come to recognize suggested he wasn’t altogether convinced.

  ‘Was there anything else in Richter’s diary?’

  ‘Yes. Quite interesting as a matter of fact. Richter says they were ordered to this Strandhaus and that when they arrived they found the owner still there along with two Gestapo officers.’

  ‘Gestapo?’ said Jack. ‘What would they be doing there?’

  ‘Richter didn’t say. The place was supposed to have been occupied by a company of the 10th SS-Panzers but they’d already pulled out. 9SS Hohenstaufen were supposed to relieve them but Müller and his platoon had orders to stay until told to withdraw. The rest of the 12th were engaged with the attack on Maltot. The next couple of entries are pretty brief. They pulled out on the evening of the 10th and Richter notes as they withdrew they met 9SS Hohenstaufen moving up.’

  ‘Nothing about the carrier or Dabs, then?’ I said.

  ‘I’m afraid not. Richter made a few notes on how hard the fighting had been and the names of a couple of his comrades who’d been killed, but that’s all.’

  ‘Pity,’ I said. ‘Still, life wasn’t meant to be easy.’

  ‘That’s usually what people say when they want you to do something nasty,’ Jack observed.

  ‘See what else Richter has to say when you’ve got the time, will you Peter? You never know, one of the later entries might mention something relevant.’

  ‘I’ll take it home and go through it tonight.’

  ‘All work and no play...’ warned Susie.

  ‘This is Peter,’ I reminded her. ‘Jack’s already a dull boy.’

  ‘I resent that,’ said Jack.’

  ‘You’ll get over it. Put the kettle on and get it ready for Colonel G,’ I said. ‘He’ll be here shortly.’

  *

  Susie had managed to lay her hands on some cupcakes and I’d got a half-bottle of scotch in, in case he wanted something stronger than tea. It might sound as if we were in the habit of brown-nosing our superior officer, but we weren’t usually that toadyish. It was mostly that after my abortive meeting with him at the Rag, I could see no reason to put his back up any further.

  He arrived at three o’clock and found everything set up and all of us waiting. I could tell he was impressed by Peter’s map because he strode immediately across the office and began peering with his one eye at the contour lines delineating the country between the Rivers Odon and Orne.

  Peter, in his rather ponderous lawyerly fashion, began by outlining Montgomery’s objective in the series of operations around Caen; attempting to keep the bulk of the German armour occupied defending the ground to the west and south of Caen, and so enabling the American forces further west to break out into more open country.

  After about ten minutes, he got Operation Jupiter under way, getting 8-Corps over the River Odon and taking the villages of Baron-sur-Odon and Fontaine-Étoupefour.

  He chalked a fresh arrow on the blackboard. ‘Resistance was stiff, particularly at the château——’

  ‘Which château is this?’ asked Jekyll.

  ‘Château de Fontaine——between Hill 112 and Éterville. It wasn’t much more than a ruin although 10SS-Panzers were well established. Jupiter’s first objectives were achieved by mid-morning. The next phase of the operation was to take the high ground here.’ He rapped his swagger stick against Hill 112 on the board. ‘The enemy was dug in on the rear slopes with Panthers and Tigers. Our Churchills had good armour but poor guns——the M10s, good guns but poor armour. And open turrets, of course. So something of a mismatch——’

  I cleared my throat noisily, trying to alert Peter to the fact that Jekyll was getting restive. The only château mentioned so far hadn’t been the right one and I wanted to hurry things along. Peter, though, didn’t take the hint. He waited a second, assuming I had something to add and when I didn’t, continued:

  ‘Hill 112 overlooked the ground not just to the north and the Château de Fontaine, but the villages of Éterville and Maltot...,’

  ‘If it wasn’t Château de Fontaine,’ Jekyll interrupted, ‘near which château was the carrier and Dabs found?’

  ‘That would be here, sir, in Maltot,’ Peter said, sliding his stick
a little across the map. He pointed to a blood-red flag that represented Kearney’s carrier. ‘The Château de Maltot, between the village and the River Orne.’

  He paused for another question but as Jekyll seemed satisfied he continued:

  ‘Early in the morning 7th Hampshires supported on their right flank by 5th Dorsets moved up to Maltot. Unfortunately they found the village to be far more heavily defended than they’d been led to believe. They managed to superimpose themselves on the hamlet but only by leaving pockets of the enemy still in place. The village changed hands several times during the day but by 1300 hours it was a stalemate. 7th Hampshires’ B Company to which Sergeant Kearney’s carrier was attached on the left flank of the attack penetrated furthest, almost to the banks of the Orne River. Communications were lost, though, and subsequent counter-attacks and flanking manoeuvres from the German positions Hampshires had by-passed almost wiped them out. Those not killed were taken prisoner. Not many men made it back to our lines.’

  ‘Prisoners were taken?’ said Colonel G.

  Peter, still looking at the map, cocked his head to one side and didn’t seem to hear.

  ‘I said,’ Jekyll repeated, ‘prisoners were taken?’

  ‘Sorry sir. Yes, they were.’

  ‘Although Dabs was executed.’

  ‘Well,’ Peter replied, frowning and still glancing at the map as if something was troubling him, ‘we’re not entirely sure he was, are we? After all, there’s always the possibility his wound was the result of skirmishing.’

  I glared at him but he didn’t notice. We hadn’t even discussed this possibility. It was just the sort of complication I had gathered us all together to avoid before Jekyll arrived. But before I could repair the damage, Peter was off again.

  ‘By mid-afternoon under the impression that the Hampshires had secured the village, 4th Dorsets were sent to relieve them. They were surprised to meet some units of the Hampshires withdrawing to the northern edge of Maltot. The Dorsets attempted to secure the position and the Dorsets’ A Company followed the line Hampshires’ B Company had taken and suffered a worse fate. They were lost to a man.’

  Jekyll got to his feet. ‘You’ve obviously done your homework, Peter,’ he said, spoiling the compliment by looking ostentatiously at his watch. He leaned over the desk towards the map, claiming the last cupcake which had been sitting on the plate in isolation, no one else having the effrontery to take it. ‘When was the body of Dabs found?’

  Peter had become preoccupied with the flags on his map again so I said:

  ‘Operation Express, thirteen days later. It was found on the drive of the château and according to the diary of an SS private named Werner Richter, we can place at least one platoon of the 25th SS-Panzer Grenadiers close to the Château de Maltot——’

  ‘Almost place,’ Peter demurred once more. We do still have to verify their exact location.’

  ‘We’re not going to quibble just because Richter called it a beach house,’ I replied irritably. ‘Kearney’s ID discs were found on the body of Unterscharführer Otto Vogel and he was a member of this particular platoon. It was commanded by...’ But in my irritation I’d forgotten the man’s name. I looked to Peter but he was moving his damn flags again.

  ‘Obersturmführer Franz Müller,’ Susie piped up.

  Colonel G gave her the benefit of one of his rare smiles. ‘And this is the 25th...?’

  ‘25th SS-Panzer Grenadiers,’ I reminded him. ‘Hitlerjugend. The 25th had been Kurt Meyer’s regiment. They were the men responsible for the Ardenne Abbey massacre.’

  ‘Well,’ Jekyll said, ‘if you’ve managed to put SS from that regiment on the spot I don’t see the need to pursue this much further. They recovered three bodies, correct? Which just leaves this sergeant...,’

  ‘Kearney,’ I said.

  ‘One assumes he wasn’t the only missing man?’

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘During Operation Jupiter. You do have a number on missing personnel?’

  ‘Missing as opposed to dead?’ I asked, playing for time while Peter sifted through the papers on his desk again.

  ‘Missing,’ said Jekyll curtly.

  ‘Only casualties for 7th Hampshires at the minute, sir,’ Peter said. ‘Eighteen officers and two hundred and eight Other Ranks.’

  ‘I can’t imagine this Kearney was the only missing man,’ said Jekyll. ‘You said 7th Hampshires’ B Company was lost? The company to which Kearney’s carrier was attached?’

  ‘All but those taken prisoner, sir,’ Peter said. ‘And a few who managed to get back to our lines.’

  ‘Well, I can’t see the point in spending any more time on Kearney.’

  ‘No, sir. I’ve examined 7th Hampshires’ War Diaries, but none of the survivors shed any light on what happened to his carrier.’

  ‘On the other hand,’ I said, unwilling to let go of Kearney altogether, ‘if his body’s found and he was shot in the back of the head like Dabs, we can assume it wasn’t the result of Peter’s skirmishing and we’ve got two executions.’

  Jekyll shrugged. ‘Two killed when the carrier was destroyed...? Dabs executed by the SS. You said Kearney’s ID discs found on the body of a dead SS soldier? I think we can already assume Kearney met a similar fate. You’re certain the man who had Kearney’s discs was in this Müller’s squad?’

  ‘According to the evidence of Richter’s——’

  Jekyll turned to Peter, cutting me short. ‘Anything untoward as far as other men missing following this engagement?’

  Behind his glasses, Peter looked like a rabbit caught in headlights. ‘Nothing reported as far as we’re aware, sir. But we’re still looking, naturally.’

  One might have thought it a natural avenue to explore, but the fact was we hadn’t been looking to see if there had been any other incident like the Dabs’ shooting. No one had told us to. Nor had it occurred to me that it might be expected. I saw Jekyll glance at his watch again so I asked Susie if there was any more tea, on the principle that giving someone a reason to stay if they’re short of time always hurries them out the door.

  ‘Not for me, thank you Blake,’ Jekyll told Susie. ‘I’d better be on my way. Good work, Peter. Tidy up the details and I think we can put this one to bed.’

  He looked pointedly at me so I followed him out the door and down the stairs.

  ‘We’ve got some likely suspects here, Harry. Vogel had Kearney’s discs. Richter puts him there. I can’t see any point in looking under every stone.’

  ‘No sir, of course not. It was just that since you specifically dropped the file off...and what with that letter from Kearney’s sister, I——’

  ‘Sister?’

  ‘His sister, Rose? I assumed there was a particular reason...,’ I let the statement hang, wondering whether I should mention Sir Maurice Coveney again.

  Jekyll shook his head as if dropping the file off had had nothing to do with him.

  ‘I was merely asked to pass it along to you. Nothing more. A bad business, but that’s war.’ We reached the street and he stopped. ‘That Major you asked about, Hendrix, was it? No trace. You did have the right name? Anyway, I wouldn’t worry too much about him. Crossed wires most likely. Square this one up as soon as you can.’ He put on his cap, tipped a finger to it and strode off in the direction of Great Portland Street.

  I climbed back up to the office. ‘That’s pretty clear,’ I told the others. ‘He wants it squared up as soon as possible so we have to pin it on the 25th.’

  Peter was looking less than happy. I didn’t know if it was the embryonic barrister in him taking exception to the suggestion we should attribute to the SS the murder of a man we weren’t even sure was dead, or whether he had taken umbrage because Jekyll had grown restive during his presentation. Had it been the former, I could have told him the Metropolitan Police had never been adverse to pinning something on a likely suspect if the cap fit. So why should we expect the army to be any different? And in my opinion, just about any cap fit
the SS as snugly as a Balaclava.

  ‘So what does he want us to do exactly?’ asked Stan.

  ‘What officers usually want you to do,’ Jack observed. ‘Do what you’re told and as quickly as possible. And don’t get it wrong.’

  ‘For once,’ I said, ‘Jack’s cynicism isn’t far off the mark. Jekyll wants us to wrap it up as quickly as we can but he’ll also expect us to make it convincing. In that case, let’s see if we can’t find anything else concerning the SS men we’ve got names for. Who knows? Maybe one of them kept a diary, too, and we’ll get lucky and stick the pin in the proper place.

  ‘First we’ll get back to the Dorsets and the Hampshires, just on the off chance there’s anything else we ought to be looking at——any other missing men or suspicious deaths. More suspicious than getting blown apart by a Tiger tank, I mean.’

  ‘Right,’ said Peter. ‘I’ll get on to that.’

  ‘Give him a hand, Susie, if you will.’ I glanced at the clock. ‘Though by now half of those you need to contact will probably have left on weekend leave.’

  ‘Even if they’re not,’ Susie said looking at me expectantly, ‘they won’t be keen on going through their files at this time of a Friday.’

  ‘Okay,’ I relented. ‘There’s nothing that won’t wait until Monday. We’ll start fresh next week. Go on, clear off. You’ve earned it.’

  Jack and Stan looked like a pair of dogs wanting their reward, too; Jack a wire-haired terrier getting a bit grizzled round the muzzle, and Stan a bull-mastiff as likely to take a bite out of you as lick your hand.

  ‘First thing Monday, Jack, start contacting the Barnardo homes and see if you can’t find out where Joseph Dabs was brought up. Despite what he said, Jekyll won’t thank us for missing something he thinks we should have seen. We’ve talked to the other families so let’s tidy it up for Dabs as well. Did someone say he was a Londoner? Start in London anyway. When you get a hit perhaps you can follow it up, Stan. Some of those kids came up the tough way and they’re less likely to bugger you around than the rest of us. Dabs is the one we know least about and apart from his discs the only ID we’ve got is from a visual, and that almost a fortnight after he died. I don’t know how far decomposition had got but it was July and he was shot in the head. Chances are they just took it to be Dabs because of the discs.’