Opposite Sides (58 page)

Then, during a sustained
heavy barrage just after Easter, General Blick got hit; his head
blown clear away. Major Resmel’s command, or what was left of it
were cut off from the rest of the army. They struggled to keep the
single transport vehicle operative but by the end of the week, the
engine finally gave a final cough and came to a dead halt. Nothing
they did could coax it back to life.

They moved by night and
rested by day but progress was painfully slow. Hans was as good as
his word. The wounded were carried as best they could until there
were too many to continue on. They sensed the Desert Rats were not
far away.

They dug into their
position among rocks and damaged tanks as best they could, trying
to keep their heads down as the net was drawn tighter. Spasmodic
fighting continued for a few more days and it was now apparent that
there would be no way out of the situation other than in a
body-bag. Supplies were now dangerously low as the last of the food
and water was rationed further. The only ammunition left was in
their rifles. The Major gave orders that no bullets were to be
wasted on unnecessary targets and, if at all possible, the
possibility of life should overrule death. He instructed his men
only to respond to fire if their own life was in
jeopardy.

At each sunset they could
feel the cold of the evening crawl across the barren scarred
landscape and creep up the trouser leg, biting a pathway into the
bone itself. Without blankets and cover, the men shivered in the
clear chill air, waiting for any slight indication that another
barrage attack was about to begin. But for two nights everything
remained calm. There was not even a hint of a flare or explosion
anywhere near them,

Dawn broke just as
peacefully the following day. As the sun climbed higher, the heat
became unbearable. Everything not in shade cracked and sizzled.
Lookouts had trouble keeping watch and had to be rotated every few
hours. Major Erwin Hans Resmel strained ears and eyes to keep track
of the situation. Fragments of speech broke into the long silences
as men tried to reassure themselves that they were not
alone.

‘
Got a
cigarette left, Fritz?”

“
Sorry.
Smoked my last several hours ago.”

“
Who was the
b . . . b . . . blasted one who took my biscuit?”

“
Damn you and
your biscuit. You should have eaten it when they were handed
out.”

“
Stop
belly-aching!”“Well, someone did. We’ve got a thief in our
midst.”

“
Shut up!
Have mine. Go
!
”

A small tin of dry
biscuits was launched into the air like a shell. The moment it was
caught, it was dropped on to the ground.

“
Mein
Gott
, Walter, this metal’s come from a
blast furnace!”

“
What did you
expect in this heat?” the thrower called over. “Try touching the
side of that tank wreckage and see what that does to your
hands!”

Having sorted out the
biscuits it went quiet for a while. The men knew they would have to
move themselves and the injured round the rocks and wreckage as the
glaring sun inched its way across the sky. It was better at night.
Cold but at least one did not have the burning and dreadful
thirst.

They scanned the desert
and rocks around them.

“
What can you
see? Hey, let me have a look.”

A battered pair of
binoculars that had been found earlier half submerged in the sand
were handed over.

“
What can you
see?”

“
Nothing!”
The answer came from behind a rock. “There’s no movement at all.
It’s too hazy to see clearly.”

Over to one
side, about two hundred metres away, several muted voices could be
heard singing a verse of
Lilli
Marlene
.

Mäuschen
must be playing
again
, Hans thought.

“
I wish
they’d shut up,” someone complained. “I’d like a nap.”

“
Siesta
time,” another commented. “Maybe the Latin’s do have the right
idea.”

“
Shut up,
will you!”

It remained quiet well
into the late afternoon. Then as the sun dipped towards the far
hills, a barrage of shelling began. The period of quiet had come to
an end.

In the last
few hours of the afternoon of April 18
^th
their position was heavily
shelled. One of the unwelcome arrivals landed close to the small
group which had been sheltering close by the Major. Kurt Ketten was
one of those who was killed. Blown to bits from a direct hit. At
least the boy didn’t have to suffer. His nightmares would torture
him no more. A splinter from the shell had hurled itself outwards
to strike Hans deep in his left shoulder. It felt at first as if he
had been kicked by a mule and after a few minutes, when nothing
more appeared to be happening, he began to wonder whether he had
been mistaken. He felt no pain although he found it impossible to
raise his left arm much more than a few centimetres from his body.
Slowly blood began to ooze through the thin material and stain his
shirt and he became aware of a stabbing, throbbing pain which
radiated downwards through his spine and into his leg. The old
wound he had there complained and made the damaged muscles of his
leg ache. He gritted his teeth, and managed to keep the pain at bay
as he called the names of the men around him. A young,
inexperienced boy of no more than seventeen or eighteen crawled
forward from behind rock and squatted down beside the
Major.

“
There’s some
of us over there still able to fight, Major.” He pointed to the
group of rocks from whence he had come. “Many injured in that last
round. Some bad.” The young soldier noticed the bright red stain
that was turning into a large black-red mark. “You’re hurt, too,
Major.”

“
Never mind
that. What about over there by the tank?”

“
No-one’s
left, Major. They had a direct hit. You’re our last officer.
Unterfeldwebel Mand’s an old hand. He’s not far from
here.”

“
Where is
Mand?’

‘
Over there.
Behind that.” The boy pointed to a large chunk of rock that jutted
out of the ground like monument making a statement. It was not so
far away from where Hans’ group had taken refuge. The Major weighed
up their respective positions. They were too scattered and too
short of ammunition to wage a counter attack.

“
How long
have you been fighting, lad?” asked the wounded officer, squeezing
out his words between the pulsating bouts of pain. Across his
shoulder and down his arm, his uniform was turning bright
red.

“
A few weeks,
Major. This was my first real go. My mate, Udo’s crouched over
there with his hands over his ears. At night, he rocks and screams
like a frog. He’s been like that ever since the shelling’s
started.”

“
You all
right?” The boy nodded. “Have we anything that’s white?” asked his
commanding officer.

“
No,
Major.”

“
Verfluch
t
!
It’s obvious they’ve got us well surrounded.” He winced as he took
a deep breath. “Not much we can do about that. To try and make a
run for it . . . day or night . . . now would be suicide. They’d
tear us to shreds . . . and to fight on would be sheer stupidity.
Surrender’s our only option. We’ll have to offer our surrender.
It’s senseless to carry on to the last man. Think you can crawl
over to Mand?”

“
I’ll
try.”

“
Good. Keep
down. Tell Unterfeldwebel Mand to report here.” He flinched as he
tried to shift his position. “Are there any more flares
left?”

“
I can find
out for you, Major.” The boy seemed eager to please and carry out
orders.

Young men,
like these, are a credit to any unit
,
thought Hans.
Pity such lives were
candidly wasted in such senseless ideals
.

The young recruit
scrabbled away, ducking and twisting with the dexterity of a rat
over to Mand’s position and then returning in the same way with the
Unterfeldwebel crawling with difficulty behind.

“
Ah, Mand.
Good, you’ve found some. We may have to fire a few flares first.
You’ll have to get the men to lay down their weapons. Those
severely injured need attention. There’s to be no more shooting.
Understand? My old wound on my leg is also giving me a problem. I’m
finding it difficult to move about. I’ll give up my Luger when the
Tommies come over. Go, now!”

Mand did his best to
salute. It was a military salute. This time there was no ‘Heil
Hitler.’ He had not done that for many months.

Hans saw that Mand had
put up a white flag and that its movement must have caught the
attention of the enemy for the shelling ceased abruptly. They men
waited a full eighteen minutes for the surrounding soldiers to
walk, guns ready for action, towards their position. As the British
got closer, the soldiers of the Afrika Korps popped out from behind
the rocks and held up their hands.

It was an American jeep
which rolled out from cover and headed first towards the white flag
and then over to Hans. Tied to their aerial was the white flag Mand
had been waving. Immediately beside the driver was Mand. The
vehicle stopped a few metres from where the Major was leaning, his
head resting on the side of a huge rock that had been his protector
during the last few days. Mand was in the passenger seat, a
rifleman just behind.

An officer in a British
Commonwealth uniform stepped out from the rear seat and walked
briskly up to the Major. Hans swayed a little. He used the edge of
the rock as a support and managed to salute. The officer came to
attention and saluted in return. Hans took out his Luger, removed
his gun belt and handed them both to the officer.

“
Major Erwin
Hans Resmel, Afrika Korps. I request that you accept our surrender.
I speak on behalf of them all. I have forty three men left, three
severely wounded and a further eight needing medical attention. The
rest have all been killed.”

“
Your
surrender is accepted, Major. Your wounded will be treated.
Consider yourselves prisoners of His Majesty’s Armed Forces
together with the Armed Forces of the United States of America in
North Africa. Please give the order for your men to put all weapons
in front of my Sergeant, over there.”

“
Unterfeldwebel Mand will see to it, at once.” Hans spoke
quickly to Mand who had been escorted over. Mand saluted and left.
They could hear him bark out the order. Immediately, the war-weary
soldiers of the Afrika Korps made a line and as the file came
closer to the British officer, machine guns, rifles, shells and the
remaining bullets were thrown down to make a pile. The men then
remained in lines, awaiting further orders from their commanding
officers.

Four other vehicles had
since arrived, bringing British and American soldiers who would
provide an armed escort until the two hundred men reached some form
of prison camp. A tall sandy-haired American walked up to
Hans.

“
Major, I see
you’ve been wounded.” He indicated the entry point, using his own
body, hoping the German Officer would understand. Hans
nodded.

“
I’ll
manage.”

“
Allow me to
drive you back to our lines. Our medics there will fix you
up.”

“
And my
wounded men?” asked Hans. “They need help. Some are a lot worse
than me.”

“
They will be
seen to, Major. There’s a truck on its way.” The wounded Major
attempted to move but now the pain was getting worse.. “No, allow
me. Corporal!” The corporal came running. “Help the Major to that
vehicle.” He indicated the vehicle that would be used to take the
wounded to where medical help could be given.

“
By the way,
Major, your English is excellent. Don’t come across that
often.”

“
Thank you,
Lieutenant.”

Hans was in no condition
to give any further explanation. The burning of the wound made Hans
woozy. He could feel the sticky blood seeping into his shirt. By
the time the vehicle arrived at the First Aid post, he felt too
unsteady to walk unaided into the tent. He collapsed on to one of
the stretcher beds and lay there with his eyes closed, trying to
think of anything to lessen the searing pain.

High up in his beloved
Alps it was cool and soothing. He could hear children’s voices.
They were calling. The calls were for him. He was the little boy
again rolling himself down the slope, turning like a spinning top:
faster and faster over the grass. He heard someone call his name.
He tried to answer.

“
Wait for
me
!”

A face
materialised. It was Caroline’s face. She was lying between the
sheets
¨C
the
last time he saw her. He tried to shake her.

“
Don’t die,
Caroline. Please don’t die
!”

If only he could have
kept holding her, maybe she would not have died.

“
He’s very
restless, sir. Is there anything we can give him for the
pain?”