On Desperate Ground (13 page)

CHAPTER NINE

22 February 1945

Elsa Klein’s Apartment

Berlin, Germany

White sheets,
Dieter Neukirk thought to himself dreamily.
I am
sleeping on white sheets.

Dieter moved his hand over the linen, feeling the clean, crisp laundered bedding. He inhaled deeply and took in Elsa’s scent, lingering from where she had lain beside him, until rising at dawn for work. Dieter had slept through her leaving and felt he could sleep forever. Hardly believing he had made it back to Berlin yesterday, he lay in the unaccustomed softness, thoughts and images from the journey flooding his mind. He knew from bitter experience that there was nothing he could do but let the memories play out, tormenting him as they always did. There were so many of them. He had seen so many horrible things. The luxury of the clean sheets and warm bed faded, and Dieter shivered with the memory of the freezing winds on the Polish plain.

On the retreat to Breslau, Dieter and his men had been constantly fighting, marching or digging in. They had made it to the city, by then declared “Fortress Breslau” by the
Führer.
The local Nazi party leader,
Gaulieter
Hanke, put troops and civilians to work digging trenches, tank traps and other fortifications. It was to be a fight to the death, a bulwark against Bolshevism at the border of the Reich. Or so the posters and radio broadcasts said. “Every House a Fortress!” Except for the fanatical SS troops, neither the Wehrmacht soldiers nor the civilians put to work on the fortifications looked ready for a last stand. They were gaunt, worn, and shabby, many wrapped in layers of rags for extra warmth. When Dieter’s Brandenburg column entered the Breslau area and passed the line of trenches and pillboxes under construction, they had been greeted by vacant stares from the workers, SS troops standing guard. They passed women, children and the elderly digging anti-tank trenches out of the frozen earth. Pictures of Hitler adorned the sides of houses and barns, exhorting all Germans to resist the Russian onslaught. Trucks with loudspeakers rumbled by, music blaring out and slogans tumbling word over word into the frozen air. Nazi banners snapped blood red in the winter wind.

This was not what they had expected. The tired men looked at each other, their weary faces masking their astonishment. Breslau was supposed to be their assembly area, a safe haven behind the lines for German forces refitting for the upcoming fight. There was nothing here except desperation and resignation. The only fit troops were the SS guards. The Brandenburg veterans knew that the pitiful defenses and the tired, cold, and ragged soldiers they passed would not last long.
 

Dieter had been marching next to Hans von Schierke. They stepped out of the line and watched the men shuffle by. The wounded were in the middle of the column, some walking, the rest carried on litters.
 

“Hang on, boys,” Dieter called out, “just a few kilometers to the railhead. Doctors and warm food!” He watched as they passed by, giving words of encouragement he was not certain of.
 

Hans turned sideways and spoke quietly so the men would neither see the expression on his face nor hear his words. “How do you know what we’ll find? This was supposed to be a fortress, and all that’s here are a few ditches and spent troops!”

“We have orders,” Dieter responded, patting his tunic pocket, feeling the folded, worn papers. “We were to let all German troops through our lines, then fall back after them, holding off any Russian pursuit. We are to pass through the Breslau lines of defense and assemble at the railhead on the south side of the city. We will then be transported to Berlin to be refitted as part of the General Reserve. We’ve done everything properly, and if there is a train here, by God, we’re all getting on it!”

 
The next group included Alois Schmidt and his Hiwis. Before Dieter fell in with them, he whispered to Hans. “Get to the end of the line. Make sure everyone gets to the train. No stragglers. We’re getting out of here as fast as we can.”
 

Von Schierke nodded his understanding, and jogged down the line of men to the rear guard at the tail of the column.

After an hour of slow marching through the ruined city, Dieter saw the rail line they were to follow to the Breslau rail yards. The men grew anxious and excited, shedding their tiredness as the prospect of leaving the eastern front behind drew closer.
 

“Are we really going to Berlin, sir?” asked Schmidt, as eager faces gathered around him to once again hear and dream about their destination.
 

“Potsdam barracks,
Feldwebel
. Rest and refit, the orders say.”

“Well, I will be fit enough if I can rest for a month,” said Schmidt, smiling at the men around him and giving them a wink. “Maybe with a nice
Fraulein
for a while!” The men burst out laughing, and Dieter laughed along at the little joke, praying at the same time that there would be a train waiting for them, with enough cars for all his men.
 

The rail lines led into the main railroad yard, ringed by anti-aircraft batteries. Work crews were busy repairing the rails from the last Russian air raid. Dieter ran up to the head of the column as it turned a corner around a large warehouse. He stopped in his tracks. There, across the yard alongside a loading dock, was a locomotive with ten freight cars, flanked by passenger cars, two at each end.
 

Dieter directed his men to assemble by companies in the rail yard and moved toward the train. Black-clad SS soldiers guarded it, grouped around small fires burning in steel drums. They looked suspiciously at Dieter as he passed by them, pointedly not offering a salute to the Wehrmacht officer. As he drew closer, he could see the death head collar tabs of concentration camp guards.

“Where is the officer in charge?” demanded Dieter of the nearest guard, who simply pointed towards a small shack at the end of the loading dock.
 

Hans trotted up to Dieter, informing him everyone had made it to the assembly area. Together, they went into the shack. As Hans opened the door and they entered the room, a gust of cold wind blew in behind them. Papers flew off a desk next to a coal stove where an SS officer was stooped over, warming his hands.

“Shut the door, you oaf!” he yelled, turning in surprise at the newcomers. His clerk, the only other person in the single-room shack, scurried to pick up the papers. He turned and stood up straight, his uniform immaculate and boots shining. He was clean-shaven except for a pencil thin mustache over even thinner pursed lips. He smelled of cologne.
 

Dieter and Hans gaped at him, and exchanged looks. Until the officer’s remarkable appearance brought it home to them, they had not realized how bad they must look. Their faces were covered with stubble and their uniforms tattered. Hans wore a blanket as a cape over his winter coat, and Dieter wore a once-white camouflage smock over his. They were filthy, and definitely did not smell of cologne.

“Who the hell are you?” the officer challenged, “and shut that damn door!”

Dieter and Hans stood there, neither moving. Finally Dieter turned to Hans and nodded slightly. Hans kicked the door shut with a loud slam.
 

“I am
Hauptmann
Dieter Neukirk, commanding the Brandenburg Division Rear-Guard Battlegroup,” announced Dieter, giving the name of his force as listed on his orders, which he removed from his tunic. “These orders from OKH dictate that once we fulfill our mission and enter the lines at Breslau, we are to have top priority for transport to Berlin. Our mission is complete. There are no more German units east of Breslau. We are ready to depart on that train. Immediately.”

“What the hell do you think I am, a stationmaster? I don’t give a rat’s ass for your Wehrmacht orders. Now get out!”

“Who is in charge of this rail yard?” Hans inquired quietly as he looked around the room.
 

“No one. I am
Hauptsturmführer
Reinhart Egger. I am in command of this train, which carries valuable cargo. I am awaiting transit orders from SS headquarters in Berlin. This is the only train here and the last one, probably. Given the tactical situation, no further trains are expected. All rail personnel have been conscripted for the defense of Fortress Breslau.”

“What is this valuable cargo, Egger? And when do you expect your orders?”

Egger did not readily reply, appearing uneasy. “Priority war materials. We are from Auschwitz III. We had to evacuate before the Russians arrived.”

“Auschwitz III?” Hans asked.

“Auschwitz-Birkenau. A slave labor factory complex, actually. Quite large, about 25 square kilometers. We produce artificial rubber, and other products.”

“Is that what’s in the freight cars?”

“No, our other products.”

“But when do you expect your orders?” Dieter could tell that Egger was reluctant to answer questions.
 

“I do not know. We were ordered here, with instructions to wait for our final destination within the Reich. That was ten days ago. Communications are somewhat difficult, but I expect to hear any time now.” Egger grew more agitated, and his voice rose as he attempted to convey a confidence he did not feel.

Dieter turned to look out the window at the guards by the train.

“Where are the rest of your men?” he asked idly, “I see only about a dozen.”

“On detached duty with
Sturmbannführer
Harder. He is in command of all SS combat troops in Fortress Breslau. I am to have them returned if I receive...when I receive my orders. I should not be surprised if you and your men are also put into the defenses here.”

“My orders are direct from OKH, and cannot be overruled by the SS or any
Gaulieter
.” Dieter now understood Egger’s uneasiness. “How long before you are put into the trenches yourself,
Hauptsturmführer
? I bet that pretty uniform has never seen the bottom of a muddy ditch.”

“How dare you speak to a member of the SS like that! I—”

“Just a minute, Egger, calm down. I only meant to point out that you have a predicament. So do we.”
 

Hans took his meaning immediately and spoke to the clerk who was nervously following the conversation. “Say friend, how about a smoke outside? All I have are Russian cigarettes, but they’re better than nothing.”

Egger nodded his agreement and the two officers were left alone.

“Now look, Egger, we both have a problem. I have transit orders and no train. You have a train but no orders. If things stay that way, we may all end up getting surrounded by the Russians here in Breslau. That means death or capture, and I can tell you one is as bad as the other.”

Egger collapsed into his chair and buried his face in his hands, all of his initial officiousness gone. “I know, but what can I do? They seem to have forgotten us and I can’t get any word through! The Russian bombings are getting worse, and soon we won’t be able to repair the tracks anymore.”
 

“Listen to me. I have valid orders. Take your men out on the train with me.”

“But I’m responsible for the cargo! I can’t leave any of it behind.”

“You must leave all of it behind. I have over nine hundred men, with some stretcher cases, which will take additional room. With your men, it will take the entire train.”

Egger looked ashen, but Dieter knew he was looking for a way out. He leaned in and spoke conspiratorially. “Does it not make sense to leave your cargo for the valiant defenders of Breslau? I know you would prefer to stay and fight, but you have your orders. At least leave something behind for Harder.”

Egger looked up and was about to speak when they heard shouting outside. Dieter rushed out of the shack and saw several men pulling Schmidt and an SS soldier apart. There was a lot of yelling and pushing, and the other SS men, vastly outnumbered, had run towards the fight with their sub-machine guns leveled at the Brandenburgers.
 

“What is the meaning of this,
Feldwebel
?” Dieter barked.
 

“Sir,” said the SS man quickly, addressing Egger who was several steps behind Dieter. “They have Russian scum in German uniform! I heard them talking to this one. They should be shot!”
 

“These are our Hiwis,” answered Dieter, noting that the crowding Brandenburgers had absorbed the Russian volunteers. “We have over 200 anti-Stalin volunteers, all damn good soldiers.”

“We will settle the question of these sub-human Slavs later. Attention!” Egger snapped out orders to his men. “You six, assist this officer in the unloading of the train. You other men come with me. We will visit
Sturmbannführer
Harder and see about the release of our men.” He paused, glancing slyly at Dieter. “Now that we have our transit orders”.
 

Egger sent for his staff car. As it pulled up, he told Dieter that the locomotive crew was with his other men, Harder having kept them as insurance that he would not make any unauthorized moves. It would take them some time to get the steam up, but if Dieter’s men got the train unloaded quickly, they could be ready to leave before nightfall and the usual evening bombing raid. As he spoke, Hans strolled up to them.