Devils with Wings

by Harvey Black

  He carried an MP40 sub machine pistol and a set of triple magazine pouches attached to his belt. Many of the force carried the Karabiner, Kar 98k and carbine. With it came a cloth bandolier, which they hung around their neck and both sides of their chest, fixed in position on the waistline, either side of the belt buckle.

  The twelve compartments sported one hundred and twenty rounds. This may seem excessive, as they were only meant to be in combat for six hours before being relieved. But in an intense conflict, ammunition could rapidly be consumed, and should they not be relieved until later, they would be very dependent on a re-supply.

  Paul checked that his torch was working and that the rest of his command also had their torches available for immediate use. He clipped his to the front of his tunic.

  Paul had asked Max to ensure that the soldiers also stowed away some biscuits or chocolate, just in case their relief was delayed or that their re-supply failed to appear.

  Max was also doing a check of the four troops, and once he had finished, they would check each other’s equipment.

  Spread across Paul’s teams, they had four MG34’s and one Flammenwerfer, Flamethrower. Group Granite was fortunate to have the new lighter model, the series 40. This deadly weapon could shoot a flame up to thirty metres long for up to ten seconds, although the engineers recommended that they use one to two second bursts. Paul knew he would certainly not want to be on the receiving end of that flaming oil.

  These and the MG’s had already been stowed on the glider.

  Max walked over, “all’s well sir, shall I check your kit now?”

  “Yes, go ahead, and then we must load the special weapons.”

  Max handed Paul two egg hand grenades and two stick grenades,

  “Secure these well sir, I am sure they will come in handy. I’ve made sure the rest of the troops are well stocked.”

  “Smoke grenades Max?”

  “Each troop has twelve; Forster, Straube and Kienitz have them in your troop.”

  Max checked his commanders fighting equipment and Paul did likewise for him and all was well.

  They gathered the troops together and gave the instruction to start to load the special weapons onboard the craft, waiting silently on the runway with one wing down on the ground, the other pointing into the sky as if indicating it was ready to complete its task.

  In the gloom of the early morning, they looked like spectres, or phoenix’s waiting to come to life.

  Max supervised the assembly and the loading of the explosives; this was completed efficiently and without any problems.

  Distributed across the eleven gliders, they would carry some two and half thousand kilograms of explosives. A third of the explosives carried by the group would be made up of the new fifty kilogram and twelve and a half kilogram hollow charges; the remainder would be made up of more conventional explosives.

  It was near the time of embarkation and they completed the last of their preparations.

  Paul’s final task was to heavily smear his face and helmet with mud, the purpose being to hide as much of the sheen as possible. Paul noted that the rest of his force was following suit, complying with a basic rule of camouflage, of hiding the shape and shine of your face and helmet.

  Paul ran his hands through his fair hair before placing his helmet on his head and securing the strap.

  Faust gave the order to embark.

  Paul and his men made their way out to the gliders, an oil lamp flickering in front of a board by each aircraft identifying which glider was allocated to which troop.

  Boarding the wrong glider wouldn’t be a problem until they landed, finding they had got a glider with the wrong equipment stowed, or they couldn’t locate everything, would be a disaster for the assault troop unlucky enough to experience that.

  Paul was the last one on board glider two. He could hear his men behind him, shuffling on the central bench attempting to get comfortable for their forty minute flight.

  Hempel too, was getting himself comfortable. For the next forty minutes he was the most important person on board.

  He was checking his controls, ensuring that the wing flaps and rudder responded to his foot pedals and joystick.

  The clock was ticking; they would soon be in the air.

  Hempel leant back and spoke to Paul, “any minute now sir.”

  Just as he spoke, a flare soared above them. It was time. No amount of doubt or reflection could stop it now.

  If Group Granite was to secure this seemingly invincible fort through shock tactics; they had to land all eleven gliders, their assault troops intact, within minutes of each other and within metres of their targets.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  It was ten past four in the morning on the tenth of May nineteen forty; the troop was part of Storm Group Granite, an extension of the advanced guard of the German airborne assault on the Low Countries. A vanguard operation aimed at key sectors of the Belgian border, to take control of Fort Eben Emael and the Albert Canal bridges.

  They were at the forefront of a massive German invasion to take Western Europe. Storm Group Granite, commanded by Hauptman Joachim Faust, was tasked with taking Fort Eben Emael, securing the gateway to the soft underbelly of this vulnerable and unprepared country, about to be caught off guard by a devious and determined enemy.

  On this day, three Regiments of the Belgian 7th Division were holding the line of the Albert Canal with their right flank anchored by the fortified complex of Eben Emael.

  This fortress was armed with two, one hundred and twenty millimetre guns and sixteen, seventy-five millimetre guns in armoured turrets and casemates. Eleven gliders would land on top of the fort, secure it, and ensure it remained in their hands until relieved by 4th Panzer Division, of XVI Panzer Corps.

  The airborne assault was launched in support of this German offensive. The opening attack was to be made by the 7th Flieger, a Luftwaffe unit commanded by General Max Student, and 22nd Infantry Division commanded by General Graf von Sponeck. The 22nd Infantry Division was an army airborne formation with troops and equipment suited to be transported by air, to complete whatever task was expected of them.

  On this occasion, the 22nd was tasked to take The Hague, and if possible obtain the submission and cooperation of the Dutch Crown. The division was also to take the airfields at Valkenburg, YPenburg and Ockenburg, lying to the north, east and south of The Hague respectively.

  Whereas, the rest of 7th Flieger was to occupy Rotterdam and Waalhaven airports, strike at Dordrecht, the Moerdijk bridges across the Maas estuary, clearing a corridor for the German 18th army.

  One critical role of the 7th Flieger, was to take the bridges at Veldwezelt, Vroenhoven and Canne and take Fort Eben Emael, reputedly the strongest fort of its time in the world, defended by elements of the Belgian 7th Division.

  The imaginative flair of Adolf Hitler himself had taken a personal interest in the planning of the surprise capture of the Albert Canal bridges, despite the skepticism of the OKW, the German High Command. He was a strong supporter of the new parachute force and he had suggested that they use gliders as a new mode of attack.

  As paratroopers would not be able to land directly on the objectives by parachute, with the precision needed in the first instance and to reduce the warning given to the Belgian defenders, it was decided that gliders would deliver the primary strike.

  A special detachment of forty-two gliders had been formed under the command of Hauptman Kaufmann, made up of four hundred and fifty men, including pilots, of the 2nd Parachute Battalion. For months the battalion had undergone rigorous training at a secret location, practicing in the use of explosives and going through the manoeuvres necessary to take the key gun emplacements and secure strategic bridges.

  On the left bank of the canal, twenty gliders would land right in the middle of the defences covering the bridges at Veldwezelt and Vroenhoven, the objective being to cut the cables to the bridge demolition charges and the telephone lines. A further detachment was
to land at Canne and a detachment of eleven gliders was to land on top of Fort Eben Emael itself.

  The force was ready to complete its task and the aircraft were taking off from Ostheim airport as planned.

  With all her engines roaring at full boost the Junkers hauled at the glider behind it, enticing it to finally let go of its link with the ground, ferrying its passengers, eight determined men with their equipment, explosives and courage, to the Belgian coast.

  The Junkers three B.M.W radial piston engines strained, the aircraft struggling to keep itself in the air at its lower speed of two hundred kilometres per hour whilst pulling the heavy, barely airworthy glider, the Deutsches Forschungsinstitut fur Segelflug, DFS 230A behind it in tow. Storm Group Granite flew towards Denmark in an arrow formation, in three groups of three planes each, and one group of two.

  A group of three aircraft was called a ‘kette’, and a group of ‘kettes’ a chain. Normally a Junkers used in a parachute drop would carry a troop of paratroopers, but on this occasion they were mere spectators, their silent companions towed behind them in this instance, would be taking the Fallschirmjager into battle.

  They slowly circled over Ostheim airfield, gradually gaining height before they flew west to form up with Group Steel.

  The two glider flotillas met up and continued with their flight west, the pilots following a marked flight path, leading them to the release point for the attack. Groups Granit (Granite), Eisen (Iron) and Beton (Concrete) took off from Ostheim, Group Stahl (Steel) from Butzweilerhaf.

  The Junker pilot of the lead plane, peered out of the cockpit window into the gloom of this early spring morning, a great deal of responsibility resting on his shoulders.

  He was an experienced pilot, and the lead pilot of the formation, with at least five years experience flying transport aircraft like these. Saying that, until this operation was instigated he had never towed a glider let alone towed one into battle.

  He, and his co-pilot, were watching out for the markers put into position on their route, to guide them to the target area and the release point for the gliders.

  His co-pilot pointed to the first rotating beacon, “there it is we’re bang on line.”

  The rotating beacon was their first marker point, and could be seen passing their port side.

  “There’s the searchlight too,” indicated the pilot, “check the timing will you?”

  The searchlight light disappeared and the co-pilot started counting the seconds on his watch.

  “One, two, three,” the chain of aircraft droned on, “eight, nine, ten, “it’s back on, ten seconds on the dot.”

  “Looking good,” responded the pilot,” but just check to make sure it stays on for only thirty seconds. I doubt there will be any other searchlights lit, but better to be sure.”

  “Ok sir, better to be safe than sorry.”

  “Is there any of that coffee left in the flask?”

  “Soon as I’ve checked the count, I’ll pour.”

  “There its out, bang on the button, I’ll get that coffee now.”

  They were leaving the first searchlight behind, and could already see the next rotating beacons. The two after that would see them over Buir and Lucherburg, putting them roughly half way to the target and the release point.

  Hempel, leant back towards Paul, “I can see the beacon at Lucherburg sir, that puts us about halfway to the release point.”

  Paul’s stomach knotted, they would be in action soon he thought. He passed the information back down the line to his troop, “half way.”

  He could feel the tension rising in the glider cabin.

  Were they, like him, questioning their ability to complete the mission? He didn’t think so, they exuded confidence.

  On the surface, Paul did the same. He didn’t show them the doubts that he sometimes felt as their leader. He wouldn’t let them, down. Anyway, Max would be there somewhere. Just picturing the burly Unterfeldwebel, being there to back him up, made him feel a little easier.

  He berated himself, knowing that he should snap out of it, he had men to lead into battle; he didn’t have time for self doubt now.

  The glider immediately behind Paul’s contained Max and his assault troop.

  The pilot, Engels, had also informed his assault troop commander of their location and the fact that they were half way there.

  “Looking good,” Max commented, completely relaxed.

  He’d had his jitters as they were boarding the gliders, but now he was ready, now he was unshakeable. They had trained hard and well. Yes, things could go wrong, he thought, but that is life. The fundamentals were all there. The tactics were right, the training had been intensive and they were well led.

  Oberleutnant Faust was an exceptional officer, and so was Leutnant Brand. They would get them through this and lead them to victory.

  The Junkers pilot sipped his coffee, pulling a face as he did so, “canteen coffee again?”

  “It’s the same coffee we have every time sir,” replied the bemused co-pilot.

  “I know, and it never gets any better.”

  “Look, he pointed out, it’s the second searchlight sir. I know, count the seconds.”

  “We don’t want to take our paying passengers to the wrong place do we?”

  The co-pilot fumbled with his watch and started his check of the searchlight timings.

  “Yep, same as the first one, not far now sir.”

  “About twenty kilometres, ten minutes to go then. This tail wind must be stronger than we thought, this puts us ahead of schedule,” the pilot said worryingly.

  “How far ahead sir?”

  “I’d say about ten minutes. We still need to gain some height as well.”

  “What will you do?”

  “Let’s check our height and time once we get to the searchlights at Aachen.”

  Hempel shouted to Paul, “we’re at the release point sir, but we’re not being released,” he said sounding concerned.

  “What could be the problem?” asked Paul

  “Were not at the correct height for one sir, I think these winds have pushed us too quickly and we haven’t been able to climb fast enough.”

  “Could we make it from here?”

  “I doubt it sir, we need at least another four hundred metres.”

  “Are we still climbing?”

  “Yes, but we are crossing over the Dutch border as we speak; they will be none too pleased.”

  “When this all kicks off, none of them will be pleased,” stated Paul.

  Through the wisps of cloud the keen eyed co-pilot had spotted the searchlight, showing the location of their next step, the release of the gliders, and the last of the support they would see from the ground.

  “What do we do sir; we still need to climb four hundred metres?”

  “We’ll have to keep going; we’ve got to get the gliders to the right height for release. If we release them now, they’ll never make it to their targets.”

  “But we’re crossing into Dutch airspace sir!” The co-pilot sounded alarmed.

  “A bit late to worry about that now, very soon the entire German army will crossing into their space. I have no option; we have to gain some more height.”

  “Flak’s coming our way sir,” shouted the co-pilot, his eyes wide with fear.

  “Shit!”

  The glider shook as an explosion burst somewhere above them.

  “The buggers are firing at us sir!”

  “Are we at the right height yet,” Paul asked?

  “Close enough sir, I hope to God we get the release soon.”

  Puffs of smoke could be seen above and to their right, the flak clearly aimed at other aircraft in the armada.

  “We’ve got it sir, the signal to release, standby!”

  Paul shouted back to his men, who sensed something was wrong, particularly as they could hear the anti aircraft fire going on around them.

  Although they had some very small windows just below the wings, it didn’
t give them a very clear view, and they certainly couldn’t see what was happening ahead of them.

  Crouched together, in a cramped enclosed space, being fired at with nothing to fire back with was claustrophobic for the paratroopers at the rear of the glider.

  Another flash, more puffs of smoke in the sky to the front of them. The Junkers dropping sharply to avoid them, Hempel quickly matching the Junkers path, not wanting to snap the tow line.

  “Time to release sir.”

  “Let’s do it.”

  At this instance, they were close to their ideal height; it was now the turn of the glider pilots to prove their worth.

  Hempel initiated the release; troop two was ready to descend.

  Fischer was also holding on to his bench seat as his pilot, Stadler guided the glider downwards, following in the wake of Paul’s glider in front. They had the un-envious task of flying close to the anti-aircraft battery, on top of the fort, their first target.

  Max’s pilot also dropped the towline, and now, unfettered from its umbilical cord, it swooped down, seeking out its final destination.

  Leeb touched the shoulder of his pilot, Menzel, “there go three of the gliders, are we next?”

  “Yes, I’m just giving them a bit of space before I release. With this flak flying around, we may need to jink about a bit.”

  “Get ready, we’ll be dropping shortly,” Leeb shouted back to his troop.

  “That’s it, we’re free,” declared the pilot.

  The glider fell, Leeb’s stomach coming up to meet him.

  Menzel looked up at the Junkers transports, as they pulled away from them, increasing speed now they rid themselves of the gliders.

  Their task wasn’t quite over, they had to drop dummy paratroopers with firecrackers attached, to try and confuse the enemy, helping to cover the activities of the rest of Sturmabteilung Kaufmann.

  The Dutch and Belgians were now their enemy, thought Menzel.

  Six months ago he was flying sport gliders for fun, now he was about to go to war with the Dutch and the Belgians.