Devils with Wings: Silk Drop (28 page)

Paul quickly pulled the platoon commanders together and told the trooper from the LP to run through what had been seen.

“The goat track that runs along the slope sir, halfway between the furthest LP and the top, there is movement along it.”

Paul reflected, his calculations telling him that they were some two to three hundred metres away.

“How many?”

“I left after about a minute sir, but before that I saw at least a dozen soldiers pass by. But we couldn’t see clearly, it was just shadows and the occasional noise of someone stumbling.”

“How do you know they were soldiers?” asked Max

“We could tell by the shape of their helmets Feldwebel, they’re definitely Tommies. Some had those hats that they pin up at the side.”

There was silence as Paul reflected on what he had just heard, tactics and scenarios running through his jaded mind. He felt under pressure. They needed to take action soon, while it was still dark and they had time to react. This force was heading down towards Hania and Rethymnon. The last thing the Fallschirmjager needed was more British troops joining those already there.

“It sounds like they’re Australian troops,” added Leeb.

“Dietrich, pull in the LP’s and get your men ready. I want your two MGs on the eastern flank, get as high as you can but make sure you have plenty of cover. You’re going to be exposed up there. That will make your range somewhere in the region of five hundred metres across the gully. Take extra ammo and spare barrels, take them from Leeb’s platoon.”

He turned to Leeb.

“Ernst, take your platoon back up the defile. We don’t know how far back they stretch, so move at least five hundred metres before turning west and come in behind them. It will start getting light in less than an hour so you’ll have to be quick.”

“Sir.”

“Viktor, your platoon is to follow Ernst. Leave a troop at the top of the defile to cover our backs then take the rest behind Ernst’s men to cover his back. One on top of the slope and one further west on the flat. I want you to just focus on the enemy to your front.”

“What about the rest of my men sir?” asked Nadel.

“They can cover the entrance to the defile and watch over Unterfeld Richter’s mortars. I will give you the company HQ as well, except I want Bergmann with me.”

They were disturbed by the arrival of the returning Listening Posts.

“Quiet,” hissed Max. “Report.”

The LP to the rear had seen nothing, the same from the eastern and northern LP’s. But, the one furthest west had some information to impart to the assembled group.

“At least one hundred men have gone passed our position sir. They’d slowed down but there weren’t any signs of them stopping while we were there.”

“Sounds like at least a company sir.”

“Yes Feldwebel Grun, so we need to get into position fast. Brief your men, but I want you moving in less than five, time is not on our side. You need to travel light Ernst, leave your kit and MGs here. No, wait, take one MG with you, but move quickly.”

“Jawohl Herr Oberleutnant.”

His officers scattered and rapidly advised their men of what was to take place.

Within two minutes of Paul’s briefing, Leeb recognising how time critical their plan was, a troop from his platoon was already hiking back up the defile they had only descended the previous day. They travelled light, just basic kit, weapons, ammunition and water. They moved quickly, knowing that speed was of the essence, the light of day creeping up on them, the sun ready to pop up above the horizon, sunrise a mere fifty minutes away. Once the enemy could see them, once the enemy knew where they were, the element of surprise would be lost and the enemy soldiers could disperse and even turn the tables on their enemy.

“Max,” called Paul in a whisper.

“I want you to control our mortar team. I don’t know how effective they will be in this terrain, but we’ll need all the help we can get.”

“Where will you be sir?”

“I’ll go with Leutnant’s Roth and Leeb.”

He turned round.

“Bergmann, see if you can contact HQ. Let them know what’s going on. If the British unit makes a run for it they’re likely to head north.”

“We’re unlikely to get a signal in the gully sir.”

“Stick with me then and try when we get to higher ground.”

“Yes sir.”

“Fink, Mauer, Ostermann, you stay with Feldwebel Grun and cover the mortar team. If we need you Fink, we’ll try and get the wounded to you.”

“Yes sir,” they all responded.

Leeb came alongside.

“We’re ready sir, I’ve sent Konrad’s troop ahead.”

“Good, let’s go.”

They moved out. Nadel’s two, reinforced, four man MG34 gun groups, laden down with additional fifty round ammunition belts and spare barrels, clawed their way up the steeper eastern side of the gully, their boots slipping on the loose rocks under foot on the sixty degree slope.

Nadel was ahead and looking back he could see his men becoming more distinctive to him as dawn rapidly approached. He looked across the gully to the opposite slope, but could not make out any movement, as yet, the hope being that if he couldn’t see them, they wouldn’t be able to see him.

Down below him, at the base of the gully, at the narrow exit point before it widened as it continued down towards the coast, the shadows of Feldwebel Grun and Richter’s mortar team, like wraiths, could be seen preparing to give the enemy their own surprise. He spotted the small outcrop ahead that he was working towards. It wasn’t much, but would furnish them with some concealment and protection. They clambered over the dark green, slightly damp, foliage and swung right to the side of the outcrop, a lone immature olive tree adorning the top. An ideal focal point, thought Nadel, for the enemy to direct fire on to him and his men. He had no option. They needed the height and the angle if they were to bring down sustained suppressing fire to support their comrades, even though the range was excessive.

He studied the facing side of the gully again, this time with his binoculars. But on this occasion he could just make out the lighter line of the goat track and could see darker shadows intermittently spaced along it. Looking down, he could just make out Richter’s men crouched next to their mortars, clearly ready to fire. He switched back to the target, noticed the shadows were stationary and then checked his men were in place and ready. All they could do now was wait for dawn to reveal their targets in full.

Leeb crouched breathlessly at the upper entrance of the gorge, the sound of panting Fallschirmjager could be heard all around him. They had dashed up the trap ridden gorge and having been on the go for twenty four hours, with only a couple of hours of uncomfortable and disturbed sleep, the pace was starting to tell.

After exiting the defile, leaving a troop to cover the entrance and Feldwebel Grun’s back, Roth’s men continued up the more spacious gully, where they had crossed only yesterday, at a faster pace. Now the snaking path and flat green, cultivated terraces were somewhere above to their left, the chalk white path barely discernible in the pale light of the early morning. To their right the shallower, weathered terraces, they would now have to scramble up. Leeb looked at his three troops, two without the familiar MG34. He turned to Paul.

“What do you suggest sir?”

Paul looked up the western slope. “Send first troop with the MG left, scale the slope at an angle, on to the top then advance about one hundred metres beyond. Second troop on the top of the slope and third troop on the goat track.”

“Sounds good sir.”

Paul looked at his paratroopers, their breathing slowly steadying, a high level of fitness allowing for a fast recovery. It was time to push them again.

“Let’s move it.”

Paul was up and on his feet and led the way straight up the slope facing them. Fessman took his nine men at a slant, pummelling up the gradient as best and as quickly as they could, driving the toes of their boots into the ground, leaning into the incline as they made steady progress up the punishing slope, noticing the ground was becoming more defined as the light steadily grew.

Reaching the small plateau at the top, he advanced across its surface, placing his troop in a sixty metre line, his MG on the left, a hundred metres beyond the top of the slope and waited. He shifted his body from side to side getting as comfortable as he could on the barren, rock-strewn ground. He could see the shadows of his comrades moving into position on his right, but could see very little to his front. He saw Konrad setting up his men on the top of the ascent and called his men forward until they were in line with Konrad’s left flank. He knew Braemer would be lower down covering the goat track. He saw Oberleutnant Brand running along the line, scrunching down, as he moved towards him.

“Ready Uffz?”

“Yes sir. We’re going to be up against it this time.”

“We are, but Unterfeld Richter’s mortars will add some extra weight.”

“Leutnant Nadel’s lads will give them a headache as well sir.”

“As soon as I am back with Konrad, we’ll move forward.”

“Understood.”

Paul left and ran, hunched over, back to the centre of the line. He came alongside Leeb.

“Roth has sent a runner. All is clear back there so he’s sent one of his troops here should we need them. More the merrier sir, we need to put them further out, beyond Fessman. It’s a big area to cover and it will make it less likely we’ll have to contend with a flank assault.”

“Agreed. Organise that and position yourself with Fessman. I’ll stay here so I can cover the goat track as well.”

Leeb left and Paul turned to Bergmann.

“Make contact with HQ. Let them know we’re about to bump a company sized force, possibly up to two hundred men.”

“Jawohl sir.”

Paul looked around him, dawn was drawing near. Soon he would be able to see the enemy, and they him. He needed to close the distance. He looked left, but still couldn’t see if Roth’s men were in position. If not, they would have to catch up, he thought. He stood up, signalled to move forward.

In a concertina fashion, the entire line of over forty men stood and moved forwards, weapons at the ready. The two MGs on the left flank gripped in front of their gunners, a fifty round belt already in the feed tray.

Keeping in line with their company commander, they slowly gained speed, boots pounding into the ground, scattering small rocks and stones as they advanced in a quick march. Paul picked up speed to a double march, over forty pairs of lungs breathing hard, their limbs jarring against the ground, muscles and tendons still taut from the previous day’s events. The line started to stagger, the fitter ones gaining ground, keen to get to grips with the enemy. Those with heavier loads or on rougher ground, found the going harder. But before it became a problem, an Australian unit came into view in front of them.

A group of twenty soldiers were sat close to the edge of the slope, the tail end charlies of the allied unit. Some were lying on the bank staring down into the blackness of the gully below, others quenching their thirst on top of the plateau, or sharing what little food they had left. But now they all sat up from their reclined posture, disturbed by the sudden rush of noise behind them.

Dawn, as if on cue, speedily exposed the contestants of the forthcoming engagement. Paul could now see a long line of allied soldiers sat along the goat path some fifty to a hundred metres below, the line stretching off into the distance, further than his eyes could see. Some were huddled together in groups, others in pairs, threes and fours, whispering to each other or catching some desperately needed sleep, or at least their eyes were closed, others taking dregs of water from their now depleted water bottles. Although he couldn’t see to the end of the line, his estimate from what he could see was well over a hundred soldiers, maybe double that including those out of sight.

His mind was now racing. Had he taken on too big a force? Could the lead elements swing round and hit him hard from the side? Maybe even surround him. During the next few minutes, no more, he would have the answers to these questions. He would know if his tactics were sound. He just needed to disrupt the enemy force to such an extent that they would be unable to rally and would have to disperse.

“Hit them hard,” screamed Paul.

His advancing force erupted in a paroxysm of fire, Straube to his left pumping rounds into the group of Australian soldiers not more than twenty metres in front of them. The Australians struggled to react quickly enough. Two Bren guns were thrown on to their bipods in an effort to put down some fire, the group tripping over each other in their alarm at the advancing Fallschirmjager. Their battle cries and guns spitting fire, made a terrifying sight. Such was the weight of fire, the Bren’s didn’t even have a chance to fire a single round as a mixture of machine pistols, karbines and light machine guns devastated their ranks.

Matters were to get worse, Nadel’s MG34s were inflicting serious casualties at their rear and on the men strewn along the full length of the goat track, the targets so numerous the gunners were finding it difficult to select.

Richter added to the clamour of sound, rounds targeting the column some two hundred yards ahead. Max recognising the need to keep the head of the column occupied and under intense fire, preventing them from rallying and pulling together a counter attack of any substance against the much smaller German force.