On Desperate Ground (46 page)

DeAngelo and several other men stood their ground and kept their heavy machine guns chattering after the jets. In seconds, the attack was over. High-speed jets were excellent against other fighters, but as ground attack planes, they were simply too fast, unable to slow down enough to inflict total destruction.

As the two jets climbed away from the attack, DeAngelo saw a wisp of smoke trailing one of them. “I think I hit one, Colonel!” he yelled, excited at the thought of damaging one of Hitler’s wonder weapons. He looked down and saw Sadler crawling out from under the jeep, dirt on his face, his mouth opening and closing, sound barely escaping as he looked down the column at the burning wreckage.

“Oh no, no, no…”

 
Captain Canfield and two lieutenants ran along the column, ordering undamaged vehicles to pull out of line and away from the burning wrecks. Medics tended to the wounded and the dead were pulled from the wreckage and laid in a row alongside the road. When everything was finally under control, Canfield went up to the front of the column, where DeAngelo was giving Sadler a drink from his canteen. The Colonel’s hand was shaking, but his face was cleaned up and he looked like he had pulled himself together.

“How bad is it, Barney?” he asked shakily.

“Twenty-six dead, twenty-nine wounded, some pretty bad. Two jeeps, six trucks and three halftracks destroyed. And, the Germans know we’re here.”
 

Sadler looked stricken. At that moment, the walkie-talkie in the jeep squawked, and a tinny voice said “Eagle Leader, come in. This is Base.” Sadler reached for it, suddenly embarrassed by the heroic call sign he had given himself. He had chosen it for how it would sound in the history books. Now he was certain it would go no farther than his own court martial. Base was the radio post he had left behind after he crossed the Mulde, not wanting to be within reach of headquarters in case they ordered his return. The walkie-talkie had a short range, and could reach only back to his radio vehicles.
 

“Come in Base. This is Eagle Leader,” he answered despondently.
 

“Eagle Leader, HQ has ordered me to contact you ASAP and tell you they order your immediate return. The order reads ‘All 537
^th
RCT units must return to area west of Mulde River without delay.’ Want me to read that again, Colonel?” Sadler could hear the nervousness in the radio operator’s voice as he told him the bad news. He held the walkie-talkie away from him, as if it were diseased. He knew that his entire future was at stake, and he had to make a choice now. Determination returned to Sadler as the news from headquarters seemed to snap him out of his shock and depression. There was only one way to go home a hero, and it was not back across the Mulde.

“Base, please repeat. Cannot read your transmission. Please repeat.” With that he tossed the walkie-talkie on the ground, pulled out his .45 automatic, and fired one bullet into it. The walkie-talkie jumped and came to rest with the case cracked, pieces of metal and wire jutting out. Now they were on their own. He turned to his stunned subordinates.

“All right. We’re not going to let these men die in vain. The 537
^th
is going to be the first unit to contact the Russians, Germans be damned!”

“But Colonel,” Canfield broke in.

“No buts, Captain. We’re moving out. Get a detail to take the wounded back in the trucks. From here, we walk.”

“Why walk, Colonel?” DeAngelo asked.

“Because the Germans know we’re here. They’ll be looking for us on the roads. Instead, we go cross-country toward the Elbe.”

Within thirty minutes the undamaged vehicles were hidden in the woods, the wounded were being driven back to Wolfen, and over 600 men were advancing on foot, directly towards Hill 182, ten kilometers to the east.

* * *

“Benedikt!” Faust screamed as soon as the paratrooper walked into the radio room at the castle headquarters. “Where are the Panzers?”
 

Benedikt was momentarily taken aback by the crazed, fierce look in Faust’s eyes. Faust had always been highly focused, even driven, but Benedikt had never seen him like this.

“Speak, man!”

“Sir! They are in position two kilometers to the rear, camouflaged in a small ravine. They can move up the slope into a firing position covering this entire front. Most of my company is deployed around them.”

“Good. Wendel just reported the Americans to the west, about 12 kilometers from here, headed in this direction. We may need to lay down some fire to nudge them in the right direction if they go off course. He had to make a strafing run at them, since they obviously spotted him also. He thought there were at least two battalions of infantry.”

“Then your plan is working,” said Benedikt flatly.

“Of course. It will work. By this time tomorrow there will an entirely new conflict begun right here. If everything goes well, the Russians will have to pull their forces away from Berlin to fight the Americans. This war is not over! And you, Benedikt, will be responsible, along with your comrades. Your name will go down in history.” Faust smiled at the compliment he was bestowing upon Benedikt, waiting for a suitable response.
 

“I have only you to thank for that, Colonel Faust.”

Faust’s eyes glowed with anticipatory glory. He foresaw everything going perfectly in the morning, and the opportunity to keep killing Russians expanding days, weeks, months, even years into the future. A perfect existence, with all these men serving his own need to keep the blood flowing, building a wall of death around him. He felt a compulsion to be certain they were all doing their part, acting out their assigned roles perfectly.
 

“Where is
Hauptmann
Neukirk?” he demanded, turning to Jost and Hans. “You,
Feldwebel
,” he snapped. “Where is he?”

Jost stood to attention. “Colonel, he went out a while ago to check on the incoming patrols. I don’t know where he is right now.”

Faust didn’t like one of his key officers out of touch. He turned back to Benedikt.
 

“Go out and find him. Now.”

Dieter was not far away. As night fell, he looked to the east from the observation post on the hill. Hans had called him earlier on the radio, reporting that the Americans were closer than they had thought. Dieter decided to wait for another contact report to be sure he was headed in the right direction. Even though Wendel’s jets flew over the area for the rest of the afternoon, searching for the column on every road and track, the Americans had simply disappeared. Dieter was forced to wait until dawn to leave, not wanting to run into the Americans at night, when any soldier was likely to shoot first at the sound of a German voice. He had ordered his men at the observation post to return to their unit, telling them he would stay until their replacements came up. He was now alone, and as the stars came out he thought about how peaceful the dark countryside was. He had no way of knowing that he was at the center of a web of events that were, at that very moment, drawing powerful forces to him. Or, that the woman he loved more than life itself was huddled up only meters away, having heard his discussion with Hans, and waiting with him, in spirit at least, for the dawn.
 

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

18 April 1945

Hill 182

Outside of Bad Schmeideburg, Germany
 

Benedikt gunned the BMW up the dirt and gravel road that led up to the top of the hill. Instead of following Faust’s order to find Dieter, he had gone back to his men last night and given them their final orders. He told them that the coming day’s events might leave them separated, and that they should follow his orders explicitly, even in his absence. He shook hands with every man in his company, said his farewells, and departed before dawn. Leaving his men, some of whom he had been with since the beginning, had brought both sadness and relief, and an odd sense of freedom. He had done everything he could for his men, and now they were on their own, with one final duty to perform.
 

He had his own job to do, beginning with Dieter. Benedikt thought he knew what his next move would be, but he had to be sure of Dieter first. Slowing as he drove the bike into the clearing at the top of the hill, he hoped he was right about the man.

Jost Brunner had gone out to the observation post during the night. He and Dieter were sharing cold rations as they heard the motorcycle draw closer. They stood apart and casually held their Schmeissers at the ready, not knowing who or what to expect. They exchanged glances as they saw it was Benedikt getting off the BMW.
 

“I thought I’d find you here,” Benedikt said obliquely as he walked towards them. His StuG 43 Assault Rifle was slung over his shoulder, not held at the ready as Dieter and Jost’s weapons were, however hard they tried to look like they weren’t.

“Why is that,
Herr Hauptmann
?” Jost asked as he stepped forward between the two men. “Colonel Faust sent you out yesterday to find
Hauptmann
Neukirk. Last night he was wondering where you were.”

Benedikt took a deep breath and looked both the men in the eyes. If he were wrong, it could all end here, and he would die a traitor’s death at the hands of two loyal German
Soldaten
. He smiled inwardly at the thought of loyalty. Who was he being loyal to now? There was only one answer, and it was to himself. It was not how he had lived and fought the past years, but it seemed the only path left to him now. It was not perfect, but it was enough.

“Because, my Bavarian friend, this is the perfect jumping-off point for warning the Americans and stopping Faust before he succeeds.”

Jost was too protective of his officer to believe Benedikt immediately. He didn’t move from in front of Dieter and did not lower his Schmeisser.
 

“What about your oath of loyalty to the
Führer
?” Jost asked, trying to sound angry. “Does that mean nothing to you?”
 

“I have lived by it. And now our country is broken between the Russians and the Western Allies. I cannot obey an oath that will turn Germany into a battleground between them. Faust must be stopped. If I am right, we can do this together. If not, shoot, damn you!”

Jost did not move or speak, waiting for Dieter. Dieter walked around him, patting him on the shoulder. He extended his hand to Benedikt.
 

“You’re right. On all counts.” Jost watched them another moment, then finally moved his submachine gun away from Benedikt. “Well, my
Hauptmanns
, if that’s all settled, we had best contact Hans and find out where the Americans are this morning.”

* * *

Hauptsturmführer
Hugo Raalte had been ignoring repeated radio calls from SS headquarters demanding another report. He had sent in several, including the fact one of his companies had found Faust’s hidden, nearly deserted headquarters. The calls had become more frantic, until he decided he could ignore them no longer.

“Karl!” he called for his aide. They had found a small farm and spent the night there, monitoring various
Wehrmacht
radio transmissions, trying to pick up reports on the location of the nearest Americans.
 

“Yes, sir!”

“Anything new on the radio?”

“Not since last night. It seems certain the Americans are halting at the Mulde River. The Russians are closing in around Berlin and heading for the Elbe River.”

“Then it’s time for us to make our move. The Americans won’t get any closer, and the liquor’s all gone anyway,” he said with a grin. “Send a message to Headquarters. Tell them we’ve had radio trouble but it is now repaired, and that we have located Faust, and plan to capture him today. That will keep them busy. ”

“Excellent, sir. And then?”

“Destroy the radio and get the men moving. Towards Bad Düben, the Mulde, and a nice American POW camp. We’ll let Faust and these other idiots around here kill themselves or get taken prisoner by the Russians if they want.”

* * *

“I make three of them,” Mack whispered. He kept his binoculars on them as Rose brought his sniper scope up to his eye. They had crawled up a small streambed to within 50 yards of the base of Hill 182. On the west side of the hill, near the crest, Mack had spotted three Germans. No other movement anywhere.
 

“Want me to take them out? I could drop two, easy from here, before they knew what hit ’em.”
 

“No. We need prisoners. Do you think we can get up there without them seeing us?”

Rose looked up from his Springfield scope, studying the terrain around the hill. The ground grew rocky around the base, thick bushes and small trees on the lower half of the hill, broken by sharp rocky outcroppings. Pine trees covered the rest of the hill, with a jumble of boulders at the top. Rose studied the dirt road leading up the hill.

“Yeah, we should be able to make it up okay, as long as there aren’t more of them up there. Hang on.” Rose crawled backwards, lower in the streambed where the others were waiting.

“Kowalski, you and Luther go around that hill in twenty minutes and head up the dirt track. We’ll go first and take the three Germans on the crest. I don’t want that radio damaged any more than it is climbing over those rocks.”