by Peter Haden
They pressed on. Visibility was appalling but that was helping enormously. Without the fog, the enemy Lewis gun would have opened up long before the flame-thrower could have been deployed – its range was barely more than thirty meters. But their best defence was to pick out enemy forms in the wavy mist before they were spotted. Twice in the next hour Steinke deployed men on the left flank to engage a trench whilst the men behind came up with grenades. Several times they seemed to change direction, describing a wide half-circle around enemy positions that Günther never even saw. But suddenly there seemed to be no more opposition. Leutnant Geiger picked up the pace and walked upright, no longer crouching. There were no more trenches or emplacements. They were through!
They pressed on into the early hours of Thursday morning. The going was difficult, but not as bad as in the immediate area of the front. Suddenly, behind them, the earth seemed to explode. It vibrated and shook from thousands upon thousands of explosions that produced enough ambient light for them to be able to make their way more quickly. But the nearest rounds were landing way behind them. Even so, what it must have been like underneath the barrage and what it was doing to the British, Günther could barely imagine.
They came to what had once been a village, a small hamlet; its buildings now in ruins. Leutnant Geiger leant against a wall and waited for his platoon to catch up and gather round. He hadn’t risked a road thus far, in case they encountered an enemy column, so he reckoned they were in no immediate danger.
‘Keep the noise down,’ he ordered quietly, ‘and Unterfeldwebel – I want sentries out-facing. One section should do it, about ten metres away.’
‘Jawohl,’ acknowledged the platoon sergeant and turned to organise his men.
‘The rest of you sit down – we’ll take a break. Smoke if you want. I doubt they’ll see us in this weather,’ his thumb indicated back the way they had come, ‘and they certainly won’t hear us with that lot going on.’ A few of the men grinned, but most were grim-faced. They had crossed the enemy lines and were safely beyond the barrage, but the real work had yet to begin. And they had been pushing it for some hours – all of them were pretty tired. Leutnant Geiger sipped from his canteen and his men were quick to follow suit. Most of them chewed on Erbswurst and hard bread from their ration packs. A few contented themselves with Ingwerbonbons of brittle ginger candy.
‘Fifteen to twenty minutes,’ he told them, ‘just to rest the leg muscles so that we don’t cramp up. Then I want to push on. We’ll take a longer break this afternoon whilst I send out a few scouts. If we can find something suitable, it would be good to put in an action at last light.’
The ruins of the village were astride a narrow lane and no vehicle or foot traffic passed through whilst they rested. Geiger reckoned that he could afford to risk the unpaved road, which was little more than a cart track really and not likely to be used as a main supply route. They advanced without contact until first light, and although the mist thinned, it did not lift completely. By now Leutnant Geiger had swapped positions with his Unterfeldwebel – no one could stay alert at point indefinitely. Geiger estimated that they were at least eight kilometres behind the enemy lines. Suddenly the barrage, which had become gradually more muffled as they pressed on, rumbled to a halt. There was no birdsong. Come to that, there were hardly any trees, just a few blackened stumps. But it was eerie to be able to listen almost in silence. Günther thought of the massed divisions hurling themselves on and through the British positions. A lot of good men on both sides would die this day.
They passed through two more villages, each as blasted out as the first, till finally the Unterfeldwebel lifted an arm and stopped, falling into a crouch. He ran back to his platoon commander. Günther was near enough to hear what was said.
‘There’s a proper road up ahead. I didn’t see them but a few vehicles went past. Lorries, by the sound of it.’
Leutnant Geiger didn’t hesitate. ‘Get the men off this track into that field. I’ll take Corporal Steinke and watch the road for a while. See if you can find some sort of shelter, then send someone back here so that I’ll be able to find you.’
‘Sir, we might need a runner,’ Steinke suggested. ‘Shall I have Raschdorf come with us? He’s a fit lad. Bit of extra fire power might come in handy, as well.’
Geiger, Steinke and Raschdorf walked along the edge of the field towards the road. The ground had been fought over more than once since 1916 but some of the vegetation was coming back, although the land had not been farmed. The beginnings of a replacement hedgerow ran alongside the edge of the field. Through it they could just make out the road, although the mist was still thick enough not to know what was coming until the vehicle was almost in front of them. Several lorries and horse-drawn carts went by over the next half-hour, and on one occasion a team of horses harnessed to a field gun.
‘Notice anything?’ the Leutnant asked them both. Steinke looked at Günther and raised his eyebrows.
‘The carts going from right to left are all loaded,’ he offered tentatively. ‘The ones going the other way are empty, apart from the wounded. Same with the lorries. One way, they’re quite quick. Going back to the front, the engines are labouring and the suspension’s down.’
‘So, what does that tell us?’ asked his Leutnant, who seemed to be enjoying himself testing the young soldier.
‘Somewhere up the road,’ Günther answered quietly, ‘there has got to be a supply dump. We could try following the traffic – that should take us to it…’ he trailed off, hoping he hadn’t been too forward.
But Geiger was an intelligent officer who enjoyed bringing people on, finding out what they were capable of.
‘Good man,’ he allowed. ‘So, here’s what we’ll do. Raschdorf, you and I will take off our packs. Just bring your water bottle and spare mags. Obergefreiter Steinke, you will take the packs back to where we have just come from. When the Unterfeldwebel’s man turns up, find out where the rest of the platoon are and join them. Whoever’s going to wait for us two will be better off back there, rather than any nearer the road. Alles klar?’
‘Verstanden,’ the corporal replied. All quite clear – understood.
It was bliss to move without the weight of a pack. Keeping just far enough inside the field not to be seen, they alternatively walked and jogged alongside the supply route. The occasional passing traffic told them that they were going the right way.
They heard the supply dump before they saw it. It was in a former farmyard on the other side of the road. There was a jumbled noise of lorries, men and horses, together with the sound of matériel being humped, hefted and loaded. But the mist was thinner.
‘We’ll stay here,’ the Leutnant ordered. ‘Don’t want to chance being caught in the open.’ They settled behind the remains of a small clump of trees. As the weather slowly lifted they could make out the size and shape of the supply dump, although they weren’t near enough to make out the contents. It wasn’t a huge area – maybe a couple of hundred metres across. ‘Probably a regimental facility,’ he told Günther. ‘Not big enough for a higher formation. Suits us – anything bigger and we might not have enough men.’
‘What do we do now, Sir?’ Günther felt confident enough with his officer to put the question.
‘We move back, into what’s left of the mist. Keep these trees between us and the supply dump. As soon as we can, we turn parallel with the road and make our way back to the RV.’ He looked at his fob watch. ‘It’s coming up to midday. We can have a rest and a meal and be back before last light.’ He grinned and patted Günther lightly on the shoulder. ‘When Tommy turns up later for his nightly supply run, he’s going to be disappointed. And with any luck, when they face our lads in the morning, they’ll be short of ammunition.’
Chapter 3
The Unterfeldwebel had chosen well. The ruins were isolated but the walls of the farm buildings gave good shelter. The lads had made a small fireplace from some
rubble and brewed a much needed hot soup. Both Leutnant Geiger and Günther accepted a mug gratefully.
‘We’ll move out in a couple of hours,’ Geiger opened his orders group for the full platoon. ‘I want to get there before last light because that’s when Tommy will stand-to – he always does. We’ll attack before he’s ready.’
He drew lines in the dust on the floor. ‘Here’s the road, and the supply dump is in a farmyard on the other side. It’s not huge. We approach in file behind a clump of burned out trees on this side of the road. The mist is clearing, but in this drizzle, we should make it unseen.
‘Number 5 Gruppe, I want you about a hundred metres to our left, astride the road. Your job is to stop any traffic approaching once the attack goes in. Similarly, you take out anyone or anything that escapes from the dump. Number four Gruppe, you do the same to our right.
‘As soon as I can just make out the edge of the dump, the rest of us will form line abreast. This is also the emergency drill if we are spotted. But assuming we’re not, I give the ambush sections time to set up then signal the advance. They can come in afterwards on my whistle.’
He looked round at his men. ‘Once we advance, the aim is to kill as many of the enemy as possible. Afterwards, the ambush sections stand by in case there’s a counter-attack – although I don’t think that’s likely – and the rest of us will take what we need and set fire to everything else. Any questions?’
‘What about numbers, sir?’ asked one of the junior NCOs.
‘We’ll have the advantage,’ came the reply. ‘Raschdorf and I think that there are about twenty manning the dump itself, but there might be a few more when we get there either collecting or delivering.’
He looked around. ‘No more questions? Good. For now, get some rest. Don’t forget, we move in about two hours.’
A few of the men managed to doze. But most of them just pretended – too keyed up at the thought of the coming action.
Their luck held as they advanced across the final field. Geiger was amazed that whoever was in charge – almost certainly the regimental quartermaster – had not thought to put out extra sentries to warn of any approach in the mist. They would be facing trained infantry, but the QM’s department tended to get the sick, lame and lazy. Even so, the mist was a blessing. It wasn’t last light, by any means, but visibility was pretty poor in the gloomy late afternoon.
Had the weather been different there might have been a problem, thought Geiger. The British infantry were equipped with the famous Lee-Enfield. They placed huge emphasis on musketry. The bolt-action rifle fired a high-powered .303 cartridge from a ten-round magazine and a skilled infantryman could rattle off anything between twenty and thirty rounds in what was known as the “Mad Minute” – after the order to open fire had been given. In the early stages of the war, advancing German troops had reported coming under machine gun fire, when in fact they were facing the rifles of a British Expeditionary Force, many of whom were veterans who had seen action in the Boer war. The Lee-Enfields far outranged the Bergmann MP18s, but in this weather, they conferred no advantage.
Geiger signalled the advance. Amazingly, they were across the road and at the very edge of the supply dump before they were spotted. The British must have thought themselves safe this far back from the line because they had even piled arms next to where they were working, putting them butt down in circular groups that sloped inwards to join at the muzzle. There were sentries, but only within the area itself, and they had been too interested in what was going on behind them rather than conscientiously watching their arcs of fire.
Someone screamed for a general stand-to. The sentries engaged the Stosstruppen even as the Tommies dived for their weapons, but the nearest Germans threw grenades towards the grounded Lee-Enfields. Many of the British troops were killed by shrapnel before they could pick up, shoulder, aim and fire. Günther realized with a start that he was in action for the first time in his life. His heart was racing but time seemed to be standing still. Although he was looking around frantically, they seemed to be advancing almost in slow motion.
An enemy soldier stepped out from behind a horse-drawn wagon and aimed at the advancing line. Without thinking Günther fired a double tap and the man went down. He realised that for the first time in his life he had killed another human being. As they advanced relentlessly, firing at any enemy standing his ground, Günther saw bodies everywhere – some still, others moaning piteously.
Geiger led his men onwards, still firing, through the wagons and stacks of supplies. He checked their line, left and right, but in doing he was briefly distracted. A brave British soldier lying prone in the open carefully took aim. Both Geiger and Günther saw him, but Günther’s weapon was pointing in the right directions – Geiger’s wasn’t. Without taking aim and firing from the hip, Günther sent a short burst at the enemy, whose head exploded into a cloud of red and grey mist.
When they were just over half-way through the dump, the British broke and ran out into a field on the far side. It was all over in less than five minutes. The Germans fired at the retreating Tommies but did not pursue them. Some went down but quite a few escaped, shrouded by the weather. Geiger regrouped his men in the centre of the dump, amidst the carnage, and used his whistle to bring in the ambush groups. One section brought in four prisoners, disarmed and their hands in the air. Amongst them was the quartermaster, a portly individual who clearly hadn’t seen much exercise or hard fighting lately.
‘Take off your boots,’ Geiger commanded in good English. When they hesitated, he pointed his MP18 at the British captain. ‘Give the order,’ he commanded.
Grudgingly, the prisoners obeyed. ‘What are you going to do, shoot us?’ the quartermaster sneered. Geiger knew it was pure bravado – the man’s hands were shaking.
‘I can’t spare men to take you back as prisoners,’ the Leutnant replied. ‘And we do not shoot men who have surrendered. I suggest you put down your boots and follow your comrades into that field.’ He waved his machine pistol towards the rear of the dump. ‘But do not come back, or you will be shot.’
Unable to believe what they were hearing the prisoners walked, hesitantly at first, looking over their shoulders, but when they saw that weapons were not being raised behind them they fanned out and ran.
‘He didn’t even ask about his own wounded,’ the Unterfeldwebel observed in disgust.
‘And our butcher’s bill?’ queried Geiger.
‘One dead – Meyer – and three wounded, but only one seriously.’
‘We’ll have to leave him with the British,’ said Geiger reluctantly. ‘Make sure they are all well clear of the ammo stacks, then see if you can find them some cover and medical supplies.’
Unfortunately, the British ammunition was of no use, but Geiger’s men did not need to be told what to do with the rations. They looted prized tins of food that had long ceased to exist in their own ration packs – tins of fruit jam, tea, Fray Bentos corned beef, meat stew and even vegetables. Steinke led his men to a stack of parcels waiting to be sent forward with the rations. Günther became aware of Leutnant Geiger standing next to him. He turned to face him.
‘Vielen Dank, Junge,’ his officer began. ‘You saved me, back there.’
He thought the “Junge” was a bit rich, considering the relatively few years between their ages, but it was nice to be thanked.
‘Can I offer you a piece of advice?’ the Leutnant went on. For a couple of seconds Günther thought it was going to be about the action, but without waiting for a reply Leutnant Geiger grinned, patted him on the shoulder and said, ‘Look for those addressed to officers. They’ll have the best gifts from their folks back home!’ With that he walked off towards where the Unterfeldwebel was settling the wounded.
The first parcel Günther opened contained a welcome pair of hand-knitted gloves, two tins of cigarettes, a letter and a small glass jar with a label pasted onto th
e lid on which someone had written “Potted Shrimps xxx”. He hadn’t a clue what the words meant, but what looked to be butter in the jar would be a rare treat. Captain Gryce-Jones would have to donate his parcel, but Günther left the letter well clear of the stack in the hope that it would eventually find its way to the officer.
In the space of twenty minutes all of them had two or three days’ rations stashed away in pockets, packs and pouches. And most of them had at least one item of warm clothing, with gloves and scarves being the most popular. They looked an odd bunch, thought Geiger, mostly although not entirely dressed in uniform, but he didn’t mind, and in any case their somewhat mixed attire would help confuse the British.
Some of the horses were wounded and had to be shot, but from the carts that were being loaded they found four good mounts and harnessed them.
‘Right, listen in,’ growled the Unterfeldwebel. The Leutnant says we are going to press on, away from the front. We’ll take the road, but it’s a supply route so we’ll get off it as soon as we can and on to the byways.’
‘What happens if we meet the British?’ asked one of the Gruppe NCOs.
‘Play it by ear,’ the platoon sergeant replied. ‘But it’s most likely they’ll be Army Service Corps drivers with a few carts or lorries, so with any luck it’d be more of a problem for them, not us.’ He paused… ‘But if we do come up against anything serious, follow Standard Operating Procedures. Lead section gives covering fire, the rest of us retreat. Then it’s fire and movement by sections as we disengage.’ What would happen if the SOPs didn’t work nobody bothered to ask.
‘Right then,’ he went on, ‘I’m only going to say this once. If any of you lot have found any alcohol, put it on the cart. No more will be said. But if I catch anyone drinking after that, God help you, ’cause that’s who you will be talking to next.’ He paused for effect. ‘The Leutnant says we can all share a tot later, but only when we have stood down for the night.’
