On Desperate Ground (42 page)

Slowly, picking each step deliberately, he walked in a low crouch to the door of the hut. Standing to the side, he lifted the latch and held it. Waiting until another gust of wind blew loudly through the pines, he opened the door slightly and stepped inside. He immediately felt the muzzle of a gun pressed to the side of his head. He could feel the tremble in the hand that held the gun as it quivered slightly against his skull.

“Who is it? Speak or I’ll shoot!”

“Elsa, it’s me!” The gun fell away immediately and the feel of the gun barrel against his head was replaced by enveloping arms.
 

“Dieter, oh my God, I’m so glad to see you! Do you know what’s happened?”

“What? Wait, first tell me what you’re doing with that pistol.”
 

They sat down on the bed and he holstered his pistol and took hers from her, snapping on the safety. She snatched the Luger pistol back from him with a flash of anger.

“Don’t treat me like a helpless girl! My father had one of these from the Great War and taught me how to shoot when I was a child. I am quite good with it.” She snapped the safety off again and put the Luger in her jacket pocket.

“All right, I’m sorry. Now tell me everything.”

“After you left, I thought a pistol might come in handy if the SS came. I have no intention of letting them take me back there. I asked Stieff if I could have one. I told him I was afraid of the Russians. He gave me this the morning you left. He had me out in back of the barn doing some target practice when they came.”

“Who?”

“The SS. Those Waffen-SS that were looking for you at the castle, only not a battalion. Less than a company, I think. Stieff went out to talk to them while I hid in the woods. I heard them questioning Stieff about where Faust was. Stieff said he was out patroling west of the Mulde River and was due back in two days.”

“Did they believe him?”

“Yes, I think so. They said they had been sent off by their battalion commander to search east of the Elbe, and when they found nothing they decided to search the area around Wittenberg again.”

“Smart move. It puts the river between them and the Russians.”

“Yes, and they don’t seem too eager to move.”

“They’re still there?”

“Yes, they’ve taken over, but Stieff and the other men are moving freely about. They must be waiting for orders.”

“Damned odd. So that’s why you greeted me with a gun to the head.”

“Yes. I have no intention of being put in that prison again.”

“We may not be able to avoid it, or worse.”

“Listen to me, Dieter. There’s only one way this is going to end, and that’s with you and I, together, alive, and this damned war over with. Anything else is unacceptable. Completely unacceptable.”
 

As she spoke, she looked at him with simple, honest, grim determination, her eyes alive in the darkness. He knew that if it hadn’t been him at the door, she would have fought and died rather than be taken prisoner. He envied her ability to make a decision and follow through with determination. While he was plagued by moral dilemmas, Elsa acted. It was one of the things he loved about her, and envied.
 

“Alive, together, in peace. Who would have ever thought such a simple thing would be so difficult? Come, let’s go. We need to get back before dawn.”
 

“Good, I’m ready get out of here. Do you have any food? I haven’t eaten since yesterday.”

Dieter pulled a wrapped package from his pocket. “Here’s some bread and cheese. I told Jost to have some hot soup waiting. Now eat as we walk, we’ve got to get you back and hidden before Faust returns.”
 

As they walked down the path to the motorcycle, Elsa munched hungrily on the black bread and cheese. She finally stopped eating long enough to ask, “Why should Faust give a damn where I go anyway, after he helped get me out of that prison?”

Dieter told her about the incident in the tower, and about the name Anna.
 

“He’s crazy,” she said with a shrug.

“Yes, that does seem to be the prevailing opinion.”

It was almost dawn when they got back to the small castle at Bad Schmiedeberg. Hans was waiting outside, pacing in the courtyard, wrapped in a greatcoat against the night chill. Dieter switched off the engine and Hans walked up to them, smiling.

“Elsa, it’s good to see you safe, or at least with us.”

“That’s safe enough for me, Hans. Now where is that hot soup? I’m chilled to the bone.”
 

Hans led them to the kitchen, where a large pot of soup sat simmering on top of an ancient wood-burning kitchen stove. The room was warm and the smell of food wafted up to them. Jost was in a chair by the kitchen table, asleep and snoring.

“The picture of domesticity!” Dieter joked. They all laughed as Jost awoke with a start. He jumped up, and engulfed her in a hug.
 

“Sit, sit, my child. You need some soup to warm you up.”

The four friends sat around the table, enjoying the warmth of the room and each other as Elsa told them about the SS at Eutzsch and her escape to the hut. It felt to Dieter like a stolen hour, with the rest of the world asleep, Faust, the SS and their other enemies all distant and harmless at the moment. Elsa looked at him and smiled, as if to say, see, this is what it will be like when it’s over. He smiled back, and tried not to think of what the morning might bring. When they were done, Jost took Elsa to a room at the far end of the castle. He brought her blankets and extra clothes, water to wash in, and told her not to venture out of the room unless it was an emergency. He bade her goodnight and left. She put the Luger under her pillow and was asleep in seconds.

Outside, the sun was beginning to dawn in the east. Dieter and Hans walked up to the tower to scan the western horizon at first light.
 

“How are the men doing?” Dieter asked as they climbed the staircase.

“As well as can be expected. They’re keyed up about the operation, but there are a thousand rumors flying about. Hitler’s flown to South America, the Swedes are going to negotiate a truce, America is going to withdraw from the war—that one has been popular since Roosevelt died. Foolishness.” They reached the top of the stairs and walked out onto the tower, over to the stone parapet facing the rising sun.
 

“Hans, as soon as the Americans get close enough, I’m going to cross over to them and warn them about Gambit. Then I want you and Jost to bring the men over to surrender. All of them.”

“Right out from under Faust’s nose?”

“Yes. The order will come from me. The men will obey me, I’m certain. But if Faust interferes—”

“By tomorrow the paratroopers will be on our flanks, providing ‘protection’, and the panzers will be in our rear. Do you think Faust is suspicious?”

“I think he is out of his mind, and perhaps also suspicious of me. What do you think Benedikt will do?”

“He’s certainly not afraid of a fight, and he took on those SS troops in Zossen,” Hans answered.

“Yes, but that was to keep Operation Gambit intact, to prevent its failure at the hands of the SS. Getting Elsa away from the Gestapo was a romantic gesture. Asking him to go against a
Führer
directive and betray his immediate superior officer is quite another thing.”

“Yes. I think he’s a good man, but we may be asking too much of him. He hasn’t been with us long enough to go along without a good reason, but he might.” Hans thought for a moment, then asked, “When will you go to the Americans?”

“When they cross the Mulde. If we wander off now looking for them, anything could happen. I need to speak directly to someone in command of the American units to our front, to make sure they understand about Gambit, and don’t fire on us when we surrender. The two battalions can’t stay in place and wait for the Americans, in case Faust realizes what we’re doing and tries to take direct command. We have to move towards them, and that could easily be seen as an attack.”

“It’s not going to be easy—” Hans was cut off by a distant explosion coming from the west. It echoed off the ridge in front of them. Men camped in the woods along the road ran out, weapons in hand, looking for a threat.
 

“Call the observation post and bring back a report, fast!” Dieter ordered. Hans was gone in an instant to the radio room.

* * *

The eight Americans trudged through the low underbrush in the scrub pine forest. Not all of the
Dübener Heide
was open meadow. They had slogged through a marsh and then up and down a series of low hills covered with boulders. Rose explained to Mack it was the remains of rock left by glaciers in the last Ice Age. Mack didn’t care. It was nearly dawn and they had covered little ground.

“We’ve got to find a better way,” said Mack, disgustedly.
 

“Okay, take ten!” Rose ordered. The men flopped down where they were. Most were asleep in seconds. Rose pulled out his map and studied the area under the beam of a red-lensed flashlight.

“We’re somewhere in here,” Rose said, pointing his finger to open space on the map. “The heart of the
Heide
, rough country. The village of Söllichau is probably over that hill or the next. It straddles the road and rail line to Bad Schmiedeberg, both of which pass within less than a kilometer of Hill 182.”

“If the railroad track gives any cover, why don’t we follow that up once its daylight? The Germans haven’t been running many trains during the day, and we’d hear it coming anyway.”

“That’s an option, but not for a while. We still need to head up that way.” Rose pointed in the opposite direction from the village.

“Why?” said Mack excitedly. “Why not get into Söllichau now, while it’s still dark, find the rail line, and hustle out on it? Why go through more of this shit?”

“Because, Captain,” Rose said angrily, in the sarcastic tone he always used to explain the obvious to higher-ranking officers. “It’s an inhabited enemy village. I plan on getting us to Hill 182 alive. Then, it’s your show.”

“We have to take a chance now, Lieutenant,” Mack answered in the same tone. “If we take the rail track from Söllichau, we can make it to within sight of Hill 182 today. We can observe, rest up, and then get up the hill during the night. If we keep going through this crap, we’ll be a day late, a dollar short and dog-tired when we get there. It could be too late.”

Rose didn’t like going through the village or even close to it. But he had to acknowledge Mack was right. It would mean the difference of a full day. He needed more time to think.
 

“Luther! Wake up! Try that damned radio one more time.”

“Sure Rosie. Pretty good spot up here for reception, if she’ll work.” Luther set up the radio and fiddled with the dials. He got a blast of static. “Yowie! That works.” He twisted the dial to their frequency and heard the clear sound of an American voice. He held up his earphones so the others, leaning in, could hear.

“Archer, this is Longbow, Archer, this is Longbow. Come in Archer.” It was repeated several times, followed by “Archer, are you there?” There was a moment’s silence, and another, different voice came on and began the same plaintive message.

“That’s our call sign!”

“Good work, Luther. Now get them on the horn and tell them to stand by.” Outgoing messages had to be brief, otherwise the Germans could triangulate their position if they were listening to the right frequency.

Luther’s face dropped as he tried to send. “No can do, Rosie. She’s only receiving. Still can’t get her to send.”

“God damn it! That thing’s nothing but dead weight.”

Luther looked hurt, as if Rose was talking about him. “Rosie, I’ll git her to work, just wait and see. Gimme some time, that’s all.”

“All right, you and Mackenzie both want time? Then get on your feet, we’re gonna haul ass outta here.” Rose set off at a trot, heading in the direction of Söllichau, Mack a close second.
 

The village was over the next hill.
 

Rose cast a concerned eye towards the eastern horizon on his right. It was already false dawn, and reflected light from the sun below the horizon had increased visibility, easing the effect of darkness. They stood at the edge of the woods, looking out on cleared land sloping down to the houses at the edge of the village. The hills they had descended stretched in line all the way to Bad Schmiedeberg. The main road out of the village, the quickest route to Bad Schmiedeberg, was a kilometer away. Even closer, they could make out a small railway station. The tracks led out of town, paralleling the road. Rose had sent Kowalski out for a look. He came back, flowing invisibly in from the shadows.
 

“We got about three hundred yards of level track on open ground. Then it goes into the trees, far as I can see. Good cover.”

“Okay. Kowalski, you go first with Woodis, Santiago and Burke. Mandelbaum, you follow with Luther and Mack when I give the signal. I’ll cover you from that stonewall by the station. When you’re all into the woods, I follow. Got it?”

Heads nodded. “Kowalski, give me two minutes to get into position. Then go.”
 

Rose patted Kowalski’s helmet as he got up and ran down to the station, to a stucco-covered stonewall running in front of and around the side of the building. Rose leapt over it and looked around. He could see down the road into the village, up to where the men waited, and down the track to where it disappeared into the woods. It was quiet. He leaned his Springfield rifle against the wall and pulled the burp gun from around his pack. He watched Kowalski lead the first three men down from the trees. They halted at the track while Kowalski stuck his head out and peered around. He looked over at Rose and gave the thumbs up. Rose signaled him to move forward.