Devils with Wings

by Harvey Black

  Paul made the first move to speak.

  “Are you,” with a slight shake in his voice, “are you joining the Fallschirmjager?”

  His newfound, short-term companion smiled back. Erich was six foot with a similar athletic build to Paul, but more filled out, more bulk. His oval face lit up as he responded to Paul’s question. His blonde hair and deep set blue eyes gave him a look of confidence, a look of self assuredness that belied his age of nineteen.

  “Yes I am, my name’s Erich, and yours?”

  “Paul, Paul Otto Brand,” they shook hands.

  “Well, something is going to happen soon Paul; there must be well over a hundred of us here by now, and still more arriving. And I’m starving; I’ve not eaten since early this morning. My parents packed me a lunch, but I’d eaten that by mid morning.”

  “I know how you feel,” agreed Paul. “I could eat a horse at the moment.”

  “That’s probably what they will feed us on,” laughed Erich. They both laughed, clearly more at ease now that they had found a fellow adventurer and they both seemed to get on quite naturally.

  They chatted about their hopes and fears for the future and hit it off extremely well. They had both been in the RAD, where together, they had demonstrated the necessary attentiveness and instant obedience to orders; qualities that were recognised as prerequisites for the German Officer Corps and in particular the Fallschirmjager.

  Just as they were about to continue their conversation they heard the loud roar of heavy goods vehicles arriving at the station. The four vehicles grinding to a halt alongside the station building, the locals looking on.

  The Feldwebels and Unteroffiziers who were going to take care of their future training, leapt out of the army vehicle cabs. There was also a Steiner jeep, which an Officer exited from, an Oberleutnant.

  Whistles were blown, they were shouted at, screamed at, pushed, shoved and dragged into some semblance of order along the collection point outside of the front of the station.

  Civilians looked on, not sure whether to smile or turn away, seeing it with a mixture of amusement, yet a slight feeling of anxiety for these young men, at the thought of the harsh training these youngsters were about to experience. Some veterans thought back to their youth, when they had gone through this day, at perhaps another military camp. Some were just civilians out with their families for the day, on a day trip or just out shopping.

  It was becoming a more familiar sight these days, young men going off to various barracks throughout Germany to train to become future soldiers of the new Third Reich. Was it a good thing or a bad thing? Most kept their thoughts to themselves, but all had to agree that Germany was regaining its pride and its prosperity.

  They were arranged together in groups of about forty, Erich and Paul managing to stay together. They had already made the commitment to keep together that day and if possible throughout the gruelling training that was ahead of them. Although they had an inkling of how tough it was going to be, they really had no idea what was in store for them. They would need each other’s mutual support throughout the duration of the gruelling eight weeks of training.

  The groups of forty were each allocated to a troop carrier, a heavy goods vehicle with a canvas top. They scrambled up on the tailgate and climbed in, there was barely enough room for forty, but the alternative was to walk, or even worse, face the wrath of one of their instructors.

  Erich and Paul ended up crushed in towards the front of the truck, about a third of the way along from the back and there were still young recruits climbing on board. When they were all onboard, some were left sitting astride the tailgate, hanging on precariously as the truck drivers restarted their vehicles for the journey to the barracks.

  The cab doors slammed shut as all of the training staff boarded the trucks and with a roar of engines and belches of smoke, that drifted into the back of the vehicles, making some of the recruits gag from the smell and choking fumes, they moved off.

  They had only been driving for about thirty minutes when, unexpectedly, the four trucks pulled over to the side of the road, coming to a sudden halt with a screech of brakes and a cloud of dust threatening to choke the occupants in the back a second time.

  The trucks stopped so suddenly that those sat astride the tailgate were nearly thrown off and had to hang on as if their life depended on it.

  “Are they out to finish us off before we have even started our training?” joked Erich.

  “We’ll soon find out,” replied Paul with a grin. But it was a grin that held unknown expectation behind it.

  The cab doors opened and the whistles, shouts and screaming started again. Orders were bellowed at them and they were told to jump down from the vehicles.

  Once they had all climbed down, they were yet again pushed, shoved, cajoled, dragged and organised into files of four by the Feldwebel and four Unteroffiziers (Uffz). An Uffz was assigned to the group of forty that Paul and Erich had become attached to.

  They were ordered to face the front. Eyeballing them was the Feldwebel in charge along with the four Uffzs. The officer had obviously continued on to the camp in the Steiner jeep.

  The Feldwebel looked at them. In his thirties, with a wide sturdy jaw, full lips and a rounded nose, he looked lean and fit and would probably put any of the younger recruits to shame in any fitness test.

  “Well you rabble, I’m sure you all thought your day of leisure, and your taxi ride, was going to continue, well I’m sorry to disappoint you. You are recruits of the Fallschirmjager now and your training starts today. You have had a restful journey, eaten your mother’s sandwiches, so now it is time to work some of that off. Some of you look as if all you have done these last six months is eat. The camp is ten kilometres away and shortly you will make your way there on foot. This should give you an appetite for your dinner, should there be any left by the time you get there. I don’t want any slacking, anyone lagging behind. You stay together at all costs, you stay with your group, and anyone who leaves the group will be punished as will the remainder of the group. Make sure you arrive together, do I make myself clear?”

  “Ja,” they shouted.

  “The response should be Ja Feldwebel!”

  “Ja Feldwebel,” they all cried out again.

  “I can hardly hear you; you had better start putting more effort into your response than that, otherwise we’ll keep you here until you get it right. Is that understood?”

  They all screamed at the top of their voices, “Ja Feldwebel,” not sure if they were more afraid of the Feldwebel, staying out in the hot dust of this June afternoon, missing dinner or the ten kilometre march ahead of them.

  Three factors were pivotal in the shaping of a Fallschirmjager, a sense of comradeship, an extremely high level of fitness and chivalry. They were encouraged to believe in themselves, and although pushed to their limits in training, they would always be reminded that what was being asked of them was well within their capabilities.

  Although camaraderie was important in any military unit, it was especially significant in the Fallschirmjager. For the Fallschirmjager it was fostered right from the start, at squad level, platoon level, right through to their parent Regiment.

  As a squad they would be dependent on each other and it was essential, particularly behind enemy lines, in an uncompromising position, miles and possibly days away from being relieved, that this spirit was engendered.

  “Attention!”

  “Leeeft turn, by the double, march.”

  The Feld and the Uffzs started off at a steady jog, all in time with each other and the Uffzs attached themselves to their appropriate groups. The groups were a shambles, they were all over the place, and no one was in step. But, eventually, they settled down to a steady, rhythmic pace, staying in a group, faintly resembling a military formation of sorts.

  It was four in the afternoon and a temperature of about twenty-four degrees centigrade. Not too hot if you were sat out on the patio enjoying a bratwurst and beer, but not w
hen marching along a hot dusty road with tens of complete strangers and five instructors screaming at you incessantly.

  After thirty minutes you wished you had stayed at home or been left back at the station. After five kilometres and over an hour of doubling it was beginning to tell on the new recruits, and some of the less fit members of the group started to drift backwards.

  One of their newly appointed comrades, running alongside Paul and Erich, started to slowly fall back, clearly struggling with the pace they were being asked to complete. Each, although weary themselves, grabbed a piece of his clothing at the shoulder or by his waist to keep him going. They discovered his name was Helmut.

  They too were now getting tired and feeling the pace. A further hour, and at the eight kilometre point, they were all shattered, hot, sweating, thirsty, hungry, their legs buckling beneath them. Constantly being harangued by their instructors, falling down, and literally being picked up by the screams of their tormentors.

  Numerous of their comrades had fallen back by the wayside. When members of a group had fallen too far back the rest of their group was also stopped in order for the laggers to catch up. But, this did not mean the group could stop and rest, they were immediately thrown onto the floor to complete press-ups, jump ups, squats and other exercises designed to further test their endurance.

  The recruits were from a mixed background. Some, like Paul and Erich, were from the Wehrmacht having transferred to the Luftwaffe to join the Fallschirmjager. Others were like their newfound comrade, Helmut, who was already in the Luftwaffe and was transferring to the Fallschirmjager. Some had even come straight from civilian life, but had proven themselves in the Hitler Jugend and other such organisations, where they had distinguished themselves.

  They eventually marched in through the camp gates totally exhausted, almost disbelieving how every muscle, every bone, and every joint in their body seemed to cry out in pain and throb throughout their entire body.

  The accommodation was not quite as they expected it to be, they were just plain wooden huts. But then again, they weren’t there for a holiday.

  But still they were not allowed to finish. They were lined up, pushed and cajoled into formation and instructed, and shown, how to stand to attention the Fallschirmjager way, the Wehrmacht and Luftwaffe soldiers helping their less experienced more, exhausted comrades.

  A Fallschirmjager Uffz positioned himself at the head of each of these four groups, and standing at the head of the four groups was the Feldwebel that had accompanied them on their march to the barracks.

  He was stood at ease, facing away from the four groups, waiting expectantly. Then an Oberfeldwebel, the senior sergeant of the barracks, marched towards them followed by two other figures.

  The first figure was the Oberleutnant, who had met them at the station earlier. Another Officer they had not seen before accompanied him.

  As they marched smartly towards the recruits, the Feldwebel gave them a warning and then brought them to attention. This in itself was a shambles as they pulled themselves to attention in one form or another. The Uffzs shouted at them from the corners of their mouths warning them to remain quiet and still.

  The Feld and the Uffzs were dressed in first-pattern jump smocks, the knochensnack and boots. The Uffzs having two eagle wings on each arm, while the Feld had three. All wore the Fallschirmjager helmet, painted Luftwaffe blue-grey with a single silver-grey Luftwaffe eagle on the left and the national tricolour decal on the other side.

  All three Luftwaffe soldiers approached and talked to the Feldwebel, who was smartly stood at attention. The Feld then did a smart about turn and faced the four groups and ordered them to stand at ease. To which they did, again with more of a shuffle than the smartness that would be expected of them in the weeks to come.

  The senior Officer, a Major, the Camp Commandant, looked at each group, sometimes making eye contact with members of the group, but none could hold his searching gaze for long and look him square in the eye.

  The day was still very hot and the Major took off his cap, wiping his brow with a white handkerchief he’d pulled from his pocket.

  He spoke to them, his brow wrinkling beneath his brown, but balding, hair. But he too looked fit, and clearly didn’t limit his activities to just being behind a desk.

  Both he and the Oberleutnant wore similar dress to the NCOs’, except they wore a shirt and tie, typically worn on parade.

  He replaced his cap.

  “Welcome recruits to the Luftwaffe, to the barracks and the training Cadre of the First Fallschirmjager Regiment. You are about to attempt to join one of the elite formations of the German Forces. Not all of you will pass. Some of you will fail and be gone in a matter of days; some will get half way through the four weeks training and still fail and go home. The best of you will stay the course and see it through to the end and become members of this unique organisation. This will be more of a privilege for you than for the unit.

  Once you have completed your first four weeks, you will then go to Wittstock, to complete your second four weeks on the parachute-training course. Only on completion of that will you become true Fallschirmjager. But, that is a long way off; you have got to survive these next four weeks first. You are number twenty seven training Company and each of the groups you are in currently is a Platoon within that Company. Each of your platoons are led by a Feldwebel and an Uffz, with Oberleutnant Nagel and Oberfeldwebel Schubart in overall charge. I will also take an active interest in the progress of your training. I will be here to congratulate all who pass, but in addition, I will be here to dismiss those who fail and cannot make the grade. There is no room for failure gentlemen, on this course, at this barracks and with this unit. One thing that is critical, one thing you must always remember. Although you have your own individual tests to pass to complete this course, if you wish to become part of this elite unit, you must remember that you are a part of a team. Teamwork is equally important. You not only have a duty to yourselves, but to your platoon, your company, your regiment and to your comrades.”

  Camaraderie was crucial in the Fallschirmjager, particularly so at squad level, where it was vital to each and every Fallschirmjager because of their potential isolation in battle. They knew that after most drops they would be out on a limb, miles and hours and even days away from support and so would be totally reliant on each other during that time.

  “That is part of the selection process, it is not just about you passing; it is about all of you passing. A failure of one on an exercise is a failure by all of you. I will now leave you in the capable hands of your instructors. Some of you I will see leave during the next eight weeks, some of you I will see at the passing out parade. They are all yours Oberleutnant.”

  The Oberleutnant stood to attention, as did the Oberfeld and the other NCOs. The company was also brought back to the position of attention. The Oberleutnant saluted and the Major flicked the peak of his cap with the glove held in his hand and returned to his office.

  The Oberleutnant then took a stance in front of the Company. He was in his late twenties, with high cheek bones, almost Slavic in appearance, and a jutting chin that seemed to point at you accusingly when he looked in your direction.

  “Right, that was the nice bit gentlemen, now it is mine and my instructors’ turn. While in the barracks you will double march everywhere. Every time you move about the camp, every time you go to eat in the canteen, every time you go to an exercise or training session, you will double. Any man I or your instructors catch walking, will be punished, and the Platoon they belong to will also be punished. And believe me; doubling around the camp is far more preferable to any punishment you might receive. You will refer to all of your instructors as ‘Staff ’, except for the Oberfeldwebel and any Officer, who you will call sir. You will be stood to attention whenever you talk to one of your instructors. I will leave you now in their capable hands, but I will be involved in all aspects of your training on a daily basis. I will be watching you every day, I will
be watching your progress and I will be watching your failures. Be in no doubt gentlemen, this is going be the hardest eight weeks of your life and I expect more than one hundred percent from each of you, carry on.”

  The Oberleutnant left and three other Feldwebels joined the Oberfeld, now making four in total, one stood in front of each platoon. Feld Geyer stood in front of Paul, Erich and Helmut’s platoon.

  “Right number one Platoon, listen to me. This is what is going to happen to you the rest of today. You will attend the Medical centre for a check up and to be weighed. If any of you weigh more than eighty-five kilograms, because that is the maximum safe lifting capacity of the RZ1 parachute, then you had better lose that weight quickly. Believe me, on this course we will be more than willing to help you do that,” he said unsmilingly.

  “You will then be taken to the Quartermasters where you will be issued with your uniform and equipment. This equipment is your responsibility and low and behold any one of you that loses any of their kit! Take your gear to your barrack room, which will be pointed out to you, then I want you back outside on the parade ground, in training gear, stood at ease in your platoon formation along with the rest of the company. Your Uffzs will show you the way to the Quartermasters, but remember you double everywhere.”

  “Platoon, Platoon shun! Platoon will turn to the left in file, left turn!”

  Another shambles.

  “Platoon to the Quartermasters, at the double, double march.”

  The Uffz led number one platoon to the stores, closely followed by the remaining platoons.

  The volume of uniform they were issued with overwhelmed Paul and Erich. Side laced boots with thick rubber soles, only issued to the Fallschirmjager, an extra thick upholstered helmet, a jack knife, useful for cutting the parachute harness if it got caught up while landing, and a jump smock and trousers and a whole list of other clothing and equipment they would need. The jump smock was also specific to the Fallschirmjager, affectionately known as the ‘bone shaker’.