by Harvey Black
Leeb disbanded the group, claiming they would make the perfect target for the Tommy air force, ordering them to set up where Oberleutnant Janke had instructed, his chiselled angular features breaking into a smile as he approached Paul.
“Report Leutnant Leeb,” said Paul, smiling, equally pleased to be back with his men.
“First things first sir, is Feldwebel Grun with you?” asked the slim officer, his brow furrowed as he looked around, expecting to see the stocky Feldwebel not far from Paul’s side.
“Yes Ernst, but he’s badly shot up. Keufer, Oberleutnant Janke’s medic is looking after him at the company first aid post.”
“I’ll get Fink over there sir, to check on him.”
“So what happened?” cross examined Paul.
“Once you gave us the order to pull back and we got detached from you and the Feld, we regrouped on Wadi Piggi to try and hold them back, so we could counter attack and come to yours and Feldwebel Grun’s aid.”
“If you hadn’t pulled us back when you did sir,” added Nadel, his normally pale face flushed with the heat, “they would have got right in behind us, then we’d have been hit from all sides.”
“But there were too many of them,” interjected Roth, the tip of his nose still red and burnt from the sun, “and when the tank turned up we had nothing to throw at it.”
The dark haired commander of the mortar troop joined them, his helmet hanging from his belt, sweat running down the sides of his rectangular face, his piercing eyes taking in his bedraggled company commander.
“Even Richter’s boys couldn’t dent it,” chipped in Nadel.
“But we had a secret weapon sir,” claimed Leeb, excited now at the retelling of their story, but reliving an event that could have been the death toll for all of them. “Fessman.”
“He, and one of his men, Stumme, ran like hell along a fold in the ground,” said Roth picking up the story.
“After throwing smoke,” threw in Nadel.
Roth turned towards him, his cherubic face nodding excitedly. “They ran right in amongst the enemy infantry protecting the tank and chucked three grenades into the tracks.”
“They must have shattered a pin or one of the treads, because the track came off and it slewed to the right and that was the end of it,” said Leeb bringing the story to a conclusion. “They still manned the guns, but they couldn’t advance any further forward and threaten to overrun us, all they could do was use it as a pillbox. But more reinforcements piled in and we had to pull back, there were just too many of them sir.”
“Then you bumped in to Oberleutnant Janke?”
“Not a moment too soon sir, we had a Greek unit come at us from the town of Adele, but his boys soon showed them off and we pulled further back. We didn’t want to leave you and the Feld behind sir, but we had no choice, they would have overwhelmed us if we’d have stayed.”
Paul nodded, picturing the scene, the bedlam, the pressure his platoon commanders and their troopers would have been under. Over five hundred men assaulting them from the front and side, a tank to contend with, the Greeks throwing another few hundred troops at them from their other flank. They did well in the circumstances.
“What about casualties Feldwebel?”
Paul stopped in his tracks, about to ask Max for the status of his company. He would have known how his unit had fared. But he wasn’t here, he was fighting for his life in a stone built hut, in the middle of a hostile country. They said nothing.
“We’ve lost twenty killed and six wounded sir, including Feldwebel Grun.”
Paul reflected on the numbers, he had lost nearly a quarter of his company. He turned to Richter. “How many bombs do you have left?”
“None sir. We’d hoped for a resupply, but the last drop was just ammo, food and water.”
“It seems the mortar stocks are being held back to support the main push along the coast sir,” contributed Leeb.
Paul rubbed the scar with his left hand, analysing what he had just been told and thinking through the options facing him. He still had a company to lead and no doubt they would be given a task to support the main thrust.
“Right Unterfeld, you are now the acting Company Feldwebel. You will take up your duties immediately and assume Feldwebel Grun’s responsibilities until further notice, at least until the Feldwebel is back with us.”
“My troop sir?”
Paul turned to one of his officers. “Dietrich, take the Feldwebel’s men under your command, appoint an Uffz and incorporate them as a third troop.”
“Jawohl Herr Oberleutnant.”
The three officers all shook Richter’s hand vigorously, in complete agreement with Paul’s choice. He had proven his worth many times and with his leadership of the mortar troop had help them win some of their fire fights.
“Your first task is to provide me with a complete rundown on ammunition stocks, food and water supplies. Find Bergmann and send him to me immediately.” He turned to the three platoon commanders.
“The copse back up the slope,” said Paul, pointing back up towards the copse he and Max had been hiding in before the arrival of the Fallschirmjager troops. “Make that the Company Command Post and deploy your platoons around it and await further orders. I need to consult with battalion HQ.”
They all dismissed and went about their duties. Richter still coming to terms with his appointment, wondering how it would be received by the rest of the unit, him being a new comer.
Paul walked amongst his men, chatting to them, re-establishing the link that existed between them. Most had fought with him before, some since the start of the war, back in Poland. He searched their faces, looking for anger or distrust as result of him leaving them to fend for themselves. But most of the talk was their inquisitiveness in how he had made it back through enemy lines, most joking about the added complexity of having to haul the Herculean Feldwebel on his back. Paul, with a twinkle in his eye, reminded them all, that when the Feldwebel returned to duty, he may want to question them about their comments. To which they all laughed.
They were all relieved to hear of his return and throughout the day they took it in turns to slip away and give him their good wishes. They were equally pleased to have their company commander back. Although the three platoon commanders had led them well, it was Oberleutnant Paul Brand who had their complete trust and confidence.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Paul’s company spent the night securing their positions, sending out night patrols, keeping the enemy on their toes, not knowing where the invaders were or what they were up to. During the day the two companies split. Paul’s group covered the southern outer limits of Rethymnon, sending probes into the outer limits of the town. One led by Paul, met allied troops pulling back from Hania. His platoon sized force exchanged a few shots, but they retired quickly, ammunition stocks being too low for an extended fire fight. But their objective had been achieved, to put doubt in to the enemies mind as to where their attackers were. In their minds the Fallschirmjager seemed to be at their front, side and rear, making it difficult to decide where best to place their defences.
All along the stretch from Hania to Rethymnon, the Raven’s battalion of four companies, one now commanded by his friend Erich after the loss of their comrade, Oberleutnant Meinhard, provided a screen to the flanks of the army that was now aggressively pushing east. At this moment in time, the Ramke Group was pushing in to Hania, supported by the 100th Gebirgsjager Regiment and the 3rd Fallschirmjager Regiment, with the 141st and 85th, Gebirgsjager Regiment’s thrusting south of Hania in the direction of Souda and Rethymnon.
During the hours of darkness, Paul pulled all of his forces back to their prepared positions, having insisted that his men dig shell scrapes for added protection. He would have gone for deeper trenches, but in their weakened state through lack of food and water, and being in almost constant battle since they landed on the 20th May, he resisted it. He wouldn’t send out any night time p
atrols close to the town, but he would still put out Listening Posts around their perimeter and a small security patrol should the enemy head their way. The sky frequently lit up with flashes from explosions, testament to the battle still raging down below them and to their west.
He stood with his three officers and the new Company Sergeant, Acting Feldwebel Richter, on the northern edge of the copse. Paul’s company now covered a full one hundred metres either side, running north to south, securing Helmut’s right flank. He turned to Roth.
“I want four LPs out tonight, all points of the compass. And keep a watch out for Oberleutnant Janke, they may well return tonight,” he said pointing back to the west.
“Jawohl, Herr Oberleutnant.”
“Dietrich, I want a troop sized patrol out, early hours, say three. It’s just a security patrol, don’t go beyond three hundred metres, but do a full circle of the perimeter. They’re not to get in to contact; they are purely out there to ensure the enemy isn’t sat in the undergrowth waiting to ambush us at first light. Understood?”
“Yes sir.”
“Ernst, your boys get the night off, but we’ll take out your full platoon in the morning and patrol close to the town again. We leave at five.”
“Yes sir.”
“Ammunition status Feldwebel Gru... sorry Feldwebel Richter?”
“MGs have two belts each and about sixty rounds per man sir.”
“One heavy action would see that off,” mused Paul, it’s worrying that we’re so low on 34 ammo. Make sure Leutnant Leeb’s platoon have at least three belts per MG. You’ll have to make do with one hundred and fifty rounds per troop Ernst, so if we so come in contact with the enemy, make sure they use them sparingly, and only to cover our withdrawal.”
“I’ll tell them sir.”
“To make up for it I want your MP40s to have at least eight magazines.”
“That will reduce the ammunition for the other platoons sir,” informed Richter.
“That’s as may be, but if Leutnant Leeb’s men bump into the enemy, they will need all of it if they are to extract.”
“Jawohl sir.”
“The wounded?”
“We lost one during the day, Kohler, from Oberleutnant Janke’s company. The rest will hold out I think sir.”
Paul’s thoughts drifted to his units losses. Scherer, newly attached to the company HQ, didn’t even leave the Junkers transport plane, shot through the chest by a 40mm, Bofors round, a hole the size of a man’s fist punched through his chest. Nadel had lost his entire 2nd troop, trapped in a flaming Tante June as it plummeted to the earth, a death Paul could not even contemplate. Forster got off lightly with a broken leg, still probably guarding the prisoners near the top of the gully they had descended only a few days ago. He hoped that a team had reached them by now to provide medical aid and bring them down. His fellow company commander, Meinhard, killed in action early on in the invasion of the Island, his company now commanded by his close friend Erich. Amsel, from Jordan’s troop, with a shoulder wound, his shoulder blade shattered. He would not fight again, but if he remained in the Fallschirmjager he would be destined for the training depot, passing on his experience to raw recruits. Jordan had been less lucky, killed during the same fire fight, Braemer assuming command of the troop. Two men lost in the gully itself, when they ambushed the Allied unit, a soldier killed on their way to Rethymnon, brought down by a burst of fire from a British Hurricane fighter. Then they had hit a wall of enemy fire as they walked in to a British counter attack. Nadel lost another man, Primke from Leeb’s platoon hit by a tank round, a Vickers machine gun dispatching one of Roth’s men as they withdrew. Both lost a further two men at the Wadi Bardia. The next, Abt with a shattered arm, Roth losing two more as they pulled back north of Adele. Then there was Max. He must go and see Max now.
“Sir... sir, are you ok?”
“Ok, to your duties, Feldwebel Richter please remain behind.”
The three platoon commanders drifted off to prepare their units for the duties allocated. The LPs, perimeter patrol should ensure they didn’t get caught unawares, thought Paul.
“How have the men been?”
“Seem to have accepted it sir. I’m no replacement for Feldwebel Grun. For all his tough discipline, the men seem very loyal towards him.”
“Most have fought with him since 1939, and for some this would have been the fourth fight. They will try to test you Feld, but I’ve no doubts that you’ll be able to handle their moods and mischief.”
“They are some of the best soldiers I have fought with sir. I will try and live up to yours and their expectations.”
“Don’t give them an easy ride,” said Paul smiling.
“I have no intention of that sir, if you would excuse me I need to sort out the ammunition.”
“Dismissed.”
With that the slim, dark haired ex-commander of the mortar troop went to carry out his tasks for the night. Paul followed him as he moved amongst the men, giving orders regarding ammunition with confidence. Paul had no doubt he would be as good, although not quite as good, but close, as Max. He turned to go and check up on Max and saw Bergmann stood close by.
“Sir.”
“Bergmann, still hugging that box around with you I see,’ he said smiling, the radio tucked inside a wheeled weapons canister. He looked across at the rest of the HQ element, Mauer, Ostermann, heading towards the copse.
“I thought it might come in useful sir. Major Volkman will no doubt be expecting you to make contact.”
“Set up the HQ element by the copse back up the hill, find Leutnant Leeb and he’ll show you where to bed in. Once I’ve seen Feldwebel Grun I’ll join you.”
“Sounds like it’s been a rough few days sir.”
“We’re back in the fold now Bergmann, have comms ready for when I get back.”
“Jawohl sir.”
Paul stepped off, crossed the road and headed towards the temporary medical post, picking his way across the rough ground, the light already fading into dusk. Sesson, who he recognised from 1st Platoon, acknowledged him as he walked passed. He pushed the groundsheet, suspended across the entrance, aside and ducked his head under the low doorway, the inside hot and stuffy. A flickering oil lamp, snaffled from a local’s house, cast shadowy shapes on the inside of the stone walls. He recognised the shape of Fink, his company medic, as he got up from crouching over one of his patients.
“Evening sir.”
“It’s bloody warm in here Fink.”
“We’ve had them outside most of the day sir, round the back, in the shade. The heat in here was even worse during the day, but we’ve brought the worst of the cases back inside before the temperature drops.”
“Where’s Feldwebel Grun?”
“Over there sir,” he said pointing to a large shape lying close to the far wall.
The hut could only accommodate five people lying down, with just enough space between them for the medics to get access to them to take care of their wounds.
“Here sir,” said Fink, handing Paul a second oil lamp he’d been using to examine his charges. “I think it’s sheep or goat fat with a wick dipped in to it. It’s pretty basic, but it gives us some light to work with.”
Paul grabbed the cylindrical container, an old tin can with a crude handle stuck on the side, a cap on the top with a protruding, yellow, flaming wick. He stepped carefully over the other bodies, shining the light over their faces, giving them an encouraging smile, not wanting to touch them in case he caught their wound. He didn’t recognise them, they would be from Helmut’s unit. He crouched down next to the form he was told was Max.
“You look like a ghoul sir.”
“I could charge you with being offensive to a senior officer Feldwebel Grun.”
“It was a compliment sir,” his voice croaky. “You always look better in the dark.”
“Is Fink taking good care of you then Max?”
“They�
�re both doing great.”
Max caught his breath as a shaft of pain stabbed through his side.
“Anything I can do to make you more comfortable?”
“A feather mattress... would be good... I feel like... the princess and the pea.”
“I think you would be the frog Max. Have you had any pain relief?”
“None left... sir. But Keufer’s done a great job... patching me up.”
“You’ll be as good as new in no time Max, and back with the company.”
“Richter will do a good job in my absence sir.”
“You know?”
“Nothing... gets by me,” he said with a cracked smile. “He’s only standing in for me. I’m still the company Feldwebel.”
They locked eyes.
“We’ll get you out of here Max, back on form, back with the unit, that’s my promise.”
“I know sir. If you don’t mind... I feel tired... you have a company to lead.”
They gripped hands. A little more strength back in Max’s.
Paul headed for the exit, handing the lamp to Fink on his way out.
“A quick word outside Fink.”
They moved a few metres away from the hut.
“How is he?”
“His shoulder and chest wounds are painful, but clean. I think they will both heal well. But the wound in his side, his abdomen, is chewed up inside. Until we have some decent light and a good surgeon to work on it, we won’t be able to tell how bad it is or repair it.”
“Have you stopped the bleeding?”
“Yes sir, for the moment. Its infection setting in that worries me. It smells clean at the moment, but we need to get him out of here as soon as possible.”
“All in good time Fink, all in good time. We’ll get them all out of here soon. Let me know immediately if there is any change in his condition.”
