Opening Moves (The Red Gambit Series)

by Gee, Colin

  “I did wonder how you knew Pförzer,” exclaimed Braun.

  With Braun leading, they swiftly moved the small distance to where Uhlmann and Shandruk waited in the water. A whispered warning from Braun to lessen any surprise and they held up their hands for assistance. Both were equally surprised when they sailed out of the water, extracted by Pförzer’s amazing strength.

  The Austrian took one look at Shandruk’s Nagant and pointed at the water.

  “Get rid of that immediately. Let’s go, smartly now” was all the conversation from the Austrian before he whisked them off and into his small but comfortable barge cabin.

  The pistol was already on the bottom of the Danube.

  Rolf started to speak but the flat hand held aloft by Pförzer brooked no arguement.

  The one-armed giant turned his head to Braun.

  “Light,” he gestured at the oil lamp and Braun immediately turned it down so that no light would be visible to the approaching Russian patrol.

  The two bored men strode past noisily and with a purpose, which purpose was fortunately to get back to their guard hut as soon as possible, not to worry about who could be sneaking around the moored boats and barges.

  “We can relax now,” commented Pförzer, and again he gestured to Braun to adjust the lamp. The huge man busied himself in one corner and then turned around to his visitors.

  “My barge is my home,” he waved his only hand expansively, “Formerly an iron ore carrier from Linz but now converted to my own needs.”

  He clapped his hand on Braun’s shoulder and looked at the others.

  “So, who do we have here then?”

  Both identified themselves and their former unit, Uhlmann receiving a respectful click of the heels.

  Pförzer reciprocated and spoke briefly of his service with the 3rd SS Aufklarungs Abteilung as he sorted under the bench seats for blankets and towels.

  A kettle magically started whistling, none of them had even realised it was there, and coffee, real not ersatz, was swiftly thrust into their hands.

  All three drank quietly, savouring the wonderful taste. The mugs had seen better days for sure, their enamel more chipped away than present.

  The silence that descended on the group as they drank their fill seemed to turn a little awkward once mugs had been emptied.

  Pförzer noted Rolf’s eyes firmly fixed upon him.

  An unspoken question received a proper answer from Pförzer. “Black market, kameraden, black market. I have business arrangements with some fine Russian entrepreneurs hereabouts, and with some of our American Mafiosi upriver.”

  The pot did the rounds again and levels were replenished.

  He sat down, stroked his hair into place and picked up his drink.

  “Which arrangements are about to help you a very great deal.”

  With their undivided attention, he continued.

  “The Colonel here signs my passes. You need passes to move anywhere with the schiesse Russians in control, more so of late. My passes take me where I need to go, in order to acquire the finer things of life. The Colonel has expensive tastes and I satisfy them.”

  A pause as his mug was raised.

  “He lost his right arm fighting the Italians outside Stalingrad; I lost my left arm at Demjansk in forty-three. Between us, we save lots of money in gloves.”

  The roguish grin on his face brought out their own smiles and they shared a small laugh.

  Shandruk could not hold himself back.

  “Truly?”

  “Truly. I have at least five right gloves and no left ones.”

  Not one of them believed the man, but they could not help but smile at his failed attempt to keep a straight face.

  A full gulp and his mug emptied, Pförzer yawned and spoke wearily.

  “You should be safe here. They don’t normally come on here unless they are picking up stuff for the Colonel. Get dry and grab some sleep. It’s coming up to three o’clock so you can have two hours easily before I put you in the hold. You can sleep more in there, provided one of you stays alert.”

  Pförzer quickly tidied up the mugs, cleaned them and replaced them in the rack, then settled back into his chair and looked at his new comrades, realising that each was already asleep and dreaming of a better world.

  At five o’clock he would get them into the hold and then be away to see Colonel Evgeny for his signed pass.

  0503 hrs Sunday, 5th August 1945, Ybbs an der Donau, Soviet Occupied Lower Austria.

  “Waking the dead would probably have been easier,” chirped Pförzer, as Shandruk became the last of the three to return to life, all having taken advantage of the safety offered to sleep deeply.

  “As soon as you are all ready to move ,we will get you into the hold while I’m away. It’s always locked and it’s very secure, so provided you stay quiet at all times you shouldn’t have problems.”

  He passed a paper wrap to Uhlmann.

  “Apple, bread and wurst is all I have at the moment but I will be able to do better for lunch Herr Sturmbannfuhrer.”

  Pförzer moved out and onto the deck, scanning the area carefully whilst appearing to busy himself with chores and checks. He beckoned the three out after a short delay.

  Showing them down into the hold, Pförzer whispered, “In the far corner you will find sacks and sheeting. Very comfortable I should think menschen. Leave the boxes and stacks alone if you please.”

  Before closing the hatch and locking them inside, Pförzer took another look around.

  “I will be back within two hours kameraden. I will bring clothes and food with me and we will leave the quay immediately, if only that we may talk more openly and safely. There is lot of strange stuff going on with the Russians at the moment and I want to get clear of here as soon as possible.”

  In the darkness, Uhlmann decided to save his precise and worrying explanation of the Russian behaviour for later.

  “No lights, stay silent until you hear me speak directly to you. And for god’s sake, one of you stays awake! Alles klar meine herren?”

  Barely audible assent and thanks floated up from the three already immersed in the total darkness of the hold, and then the locks were in place and Pförzer was gone.

  0657 hrs Sunday, 5th August 1945, Ybbs an der Donau, Soviet Occupied Lower Austria.

  It seemed like the man had been absent but a few minutes before the sound of the engine reluctantly coming to life disturbed Uhlmann. He had stayed awake first, whilst the others slept, and then placed Braun on alert and taken his own rest.

  Two opaque panels in a small central structure in the ceiling allowed a low light to gently bathe the hold, sufficient for Uhlmann to see his comrades.

  That Braun and Shandruk were fast asleep when at least one should have been alert was not wasted on him, and he had court-martialled men in his unit for the same offence on the Russian Front. The other two started awake as the engine roared with acceleration, and he looked at each man’s reaction.

  Without the need for words, he established that Braun had indeed fallen asleep on guard. In the silence of looks exchanged between fellow soldiers, Braun accepted his blame, and his guilt was clearly marked on his pained expression. Rolf inclined his head and raised one eyebrow, in the style of an extravagant silent movie actor. In return, he received a resigned exhalation from the ashamed NCO. There was nothing more to be said.

  They became aware that the vessel was moving and relaxed. After what seemed like an age the hatch was opened and Pförzer greeted them as the morning sun flooded into their hiding place. Some clothes were thrown down, along with a brown wrap with food.

  “Morning kameraden, sorry for the delay but I wanted to pass the bridge before letting any of you out. The day is bright and not a cloud in the sky. No sign of the storms now.”

  His head withdrew as he quickly scanned around before returning.

  “Get into those civilian rags as soon as possible. I will put your uniforms over the side later on. When you have
done that, we can have you up on deck one at a time.”

  A further check on the surroundings.

  “I normally bring one crew with me, so no-one will be worried to see a hand on deck. Willi is staying at home today.”

  A huge grin split his face.

  “We will have you safe and sound in no time. Watch your eyes.”

  His hand dropped inside the frame and clicked the switch to the three lights, which immediately illuminated the hold area.

  The light, even though low wattage, hurt their eyes, as none had been quick enough to react to Pförzer’s warning.

  The hatch dropped back into place.

  Recovering their vision, the three sorted through the clothing and removed their uniforms, making the final transition from members of the Waffen-SS to civilians with little thought. Their old uniforms were bundled together and tied with twine found on the floor. The contents of the paper wrap were shared between them and they relaxed back in silence, although the hand-knitted jumper Shandruk had been left with drew some sniggers as he wrestled with its overly long arms.

  The hatch was raised and Pförzer beckoned to Uhlmann.

  “Best we sort out quickly our plan Herr Obersturmbannfuhrer, so you first on deck I think.”

  A pack of Chesterfield cigarettes and a book of matches were dropped lazily down, passing Rolf as he ascended the ladder. Replacing the lid, Rolf screwed up his eyes as the sunlight made its presence felt. As his eyes grew accustomed, he started to take in his surroundings; the wide steady flowing river and the lush countryside on either bank. The garish paintwork of the barge itself, its mixture of yellow, red, and green heavy on the eye. Gingerly he made his way into the little wheelhouse.

  “Wear that cap please, and make sure you pass it to the next on deck.” Pförzer nodded at a weather-beaten old brown leather flat cap gently swaying on a hook.

  “Part of the uniform. Smoke?”

  Rolf nodded.

  Pförzer shook out a Chesterfield and lit it all in one easy motion, offering the pack and lighter to Rolf, gesturing that he could keep both.

  In silence, the men drew heavily on the rich American tobacco, the steady chugging of the engine adding an almost mystic quality to the moment. Rolf spotted the two separate small lines looped at one end and worked out that these were what Pförzer attached to the wheel to keep it straight when away from the wheelhouse.

  Sending his butt over the side, the Austrian looked Uhlmann up and down and chuckled.

  “Not quite as smart as your uniform Herr Obersturmbannfuhrer, but certainly not about to attract attention.”

  “True…true,” said Uhlmann as the realisation that he had worn his uniform for the last time swept over him.

  Pförzer leant against the wheel and waved gently at the Captain of a barge moored to the bank.

  “So, how may I be of service on this lovely sunny day?”

  “Obviously we must dispense with the formalities so please call me Rolf if you will.”

  Pförzer nodded.

  “Rolf it is then. Call me Hub.”

  Uhlmann finished his cigarette, flicking it purposefully into the water, and dropped his bombshell.

  “We need to report to the American authorities as quickly as possible.”

  Pförzer’s surprise was written all over his face.

  “I had expected something different Mein Herr. Papers for the three of you, cover stories, you know the score but you actually want to go to the Americans?”

  Although Pförzer was a man not fazed by much, it was clear that Rolf had caught him by surprise.

  “Then you have something to tell me I assume Mein Herr…err…..Rolf?”

  Therefore, the next few minutes were spent in explanation of all that the escapees had seen and understood, leaving out nothing.

  “Now I understand Herr Obersturmbannfuhrer. Once again the dance will start it seems but perhaps this time we will manage to fight with stronger allies.”

  A wry smile expressed a great deal and was easily understood by a fellow combat soldier.

  “I knew there was tension between the Soviets and the Western Allies but didn’t have any idea it was this bad. So Rolf, when?”

  “The longer they wait the more chance of discovery obviously. The hidden laager we saw can only be five kilometres maximum from where we came together. I think soon Hub, very soon.”

  “Today is Sunday, tomorrow is Monday 6th August.”

  A moment’s pause for thought.

  “As I see it the first issue is getting through the Soviet checkpoints.”

  Rolf inclined his head in acceptance.

  “That will not be a huge matter for us. I am well known as I go back and forth often. I drop a bottle or two in the right hands and we will slip through without problem.”

  He saw doubt in Uhlmann’s eyes.

  “Rolf, crossing through to the American side will be easy enough with the papers I possess. I also have a few friendly Americans who provide me with good papers for the other side.”

  His bulk leant against the wheel once more and his hand worked at his chin as he wrestled with the problem.

  “None the less, it is the Americans who will pose the biggest threat. If you go to some idiot who is not prepared to listen or just imprisons you, then you may find your information becoming ‘old news’ in rapid order.”

  The chesterfields again did the rounds and helped the thought processes.

  “We must find a combat soldier preferably, not one of these rear line swine who wouldn’t know what to do with what you have to tell them. We must find you someone who will listen,” a very obvious idea was spreading through Hub’s mind, “Someone who is of high enough rank to get people out of bed on a Sunday.”

  Rolf’s quizzical look drew a response.

  “Ah yes, I forgot, you have not encountered our American enemy have you? They do like their comforts and I would expect that many will be away from their posts, enjoying everything this wonderful country has to offer.”

  Pförzer indicated with a simple head gesture at a map on the wall of the wheelhouse.

  “To our right now is the town of Weins.”

  He waited whilst Rolf got his bearings.

  “We will face inspection at the Freyenstein checkpoint”, waiting whilst Rolf’s finger traced upriver to the location, “Where we will have some visitors onboard. So long as two of you are well hidden, I see no problem. I go upriver empty mainly so there is nothing unusual.”

  Uhlmann’s finger tapped the map pensively.

  “You would agree that we must find the right American, Rolf?”

  “Yes of course, but I cannot help thinking that time is not on our side here.”

  More searching of the map and fingers running imaginary routes.

  “Where are you thinking we might find the person we need?”

  “Mauthausen. I happen to know a high-up American Commander, a General no less, is visiting the former camp there today.”

  Rolf’s enquiring face betrayed no knowledge of the name as he searched upriver. His finger came to rest over the spot.

  “Former camp?” Rolf’s voice asked almost disinterestedly.

  “Not a place we should be proud of, my friend. One of the camps where the mass killings took place.”

  Rolf’s head turned, suddenly focused.

  An uneasy shift of weight and a sigh revealed Pförzer’s discomfort. “The world will stand in judgement on all of us who knew and did nothing, and there will be a reckoning.”

  Rolf nodded.

  “One day soon I expect, but if we do not speak out to the Western Allies immediately, that reckoning will be run by the schiesse Russians!”

  Again, Rolf’s finger tapped the map, this time beating out a rhythm of thought over Mauthausen.

  “I also believe that the General will be staying overnight in the area,” ventured Pförzer, receiving a grunt from a barely listening Rolf.

  “There are few establishments in the area suitabl
e for a distinguished General. I will try to find out once we get through the Russian checkpoint. I have a suitable contact in Enns, a man who might be able to help us; a frontline schwein.”

  A gentle turn of the wheel started the vessel on the long right hand bend that would bring them to the Freyenstein checkpoint.

  Rolf continued scanning the interior of the wheelhouse and he noticed a modest carved wooden relief of Saint Florian to the left of the wheel.

  “St Florian Hub? Why St Florian?”

  “I was born in St Florian more years ago than I care to remember, and he has come to mean more to me than just that.”

  A new pack of Chesterfields magically appeared and was opened with his teeth before disgorging two cigarettes.

  “He is the patron saint of my chosen profession, or at least the one I chose before the war, when I had two arms.”

  Rolf looked none the wiser.

  “I was a fireman in Linz until the Anschluss, and then I was caught up in the fervour of the times.”

  A sympathetic nod said all that could be said.

  “Mind you, could have been worse. I might have taken it all the way and joined that bunch of shirt-lifters in the SS Kavellerie eh?”

  Rolf laughed, enjoying the joke at the expense of his former comrades of the 8th SS Kavellerie Division ‘Florian Geyer’.

  “Here, take the wheel. Keep the same distance from the bank, I won’t be long. Oh and if anyone waves, do wave back.”

  Uhlmann took the wheel as Pförzer slipped quickly out and to the deck hatch, slipping inside in the blink of an eye.

  The vessel was easy enough to steer and he relaxed into the role, pulling gently on the wonderful American cigarette stuck in the corner of his mouth.

  He almost jumped as the deck hatch crashed open and Pförzer emerged with a heavy green canvas bag.

  Cautiously he looked around before sending the wrapped and weighted uniforms into their wake. Returning to the wheelhouse, he carefully stowed the bag in a small cupboard. Accepting the wheel back from Rolf, he nodded at the cupboard and grinned. “That’s Ivan taken care of when he comes knocking Mein Herr.”