On Desperate Ground (41 page)

“Either one means an interesting next few days,” Faust said. “I doubt they could know much about Operation Gambit. But we can’t underestimate the possibility. Be on alert here.” Faust scanned the horizon again in all directions. “Where are your men?”

“The 9
^th
Battalion, with the German Russian-marked vehicles, is based here and in the woods behind the castle. The 8
^th
, with Russian trucks, is in the woods along the road between here and the hill.” Dieter pointed along the road. To the right was cleared farmland, dominated by the hill beyond it. To the left of the main road was a pine forest, which rose gradually to a low ridge paralleling the road.
 

“We can either attack them here, from this position, or move out towards Bad Düben when they cross the Mulde.”
 

“Very good. Are there
Luftwaffe
units to your front?”

“Yes, there are 20mm batteries at Bad Düben and Söllichau, a little village at the end of this ridge. Should we bring them in? They have no one in command and will probably be overrun once the Americans get here.”

Faust considered for a moment. “No. You will either see them running down this road or hear them firing. That will alert you that the Americans are close.”
 

With that, Faust consigned the men to their deaths, for the slight advantage of a warning that would come soon enough in any case. Dieter was not surprised.
 

“What is the latest report from Benedikt?” Faust asked, moving on to the next subject.
 

“The SS have vanished without a trace. There were reports of them crossing the Elbe at Pretzsch, before we got there, but it apparently was not the full battalion he saw earlier.”

“Strange. Not that I mind one less headache. Contact Benedikt and tell him to meet me at Dommitzsch. If we don’t find anything today, I’ll send him up here to you as planned.”

“Yes, sir.” Jost left them alone as he climbed down the tower staircase to the radio room.

The two men said nothing as they looked down the road. The sun was low in the western sky, the brightness causing them to shade their eyes. Dieter wanted to speak but felt awkward and tense with Faust now. He had known him since the beginning of the war, and had learned much about survival from him. Now, he owed him everything for the rescue of Elsa. He had not had a chance to thank him properly since the return from Berlin. He felt that Faust was avoiding him, remaining formal and stern, beyond even his usual strict military bearing.
 

Dieter extended his hand to Faust.

“Colonel, I have not thanked you properly.”

Faust looked at him with surprise and then disgust. He turned on Dieter, raising his hand and slapping him across the face. Dieter fell back against the tower wall, stunned at the unexpected savagery. Faust moved close to him, inches away from his face, spewing rage.

“Do not even think of it! You are a dead man now, don’t even think of a life after this, do you understand? You have nothing but this mission, nothing!” Faust’s face contorted as spittle jumped from his lips.
 

Dieter was completely at a loss.

“I only meant to thank you for saving Elsa.”

Faust drew his Walther automatic pistol and aimed it Dieter’s forehead. His arm was shaking and Dieter’s eyes widened in fear as he saw the safety catch was off. Faust spoke to him in controlled, clipped tones.

“Do not ever speak of Anna again to me. Follow your orders precisely and I will not kill you. Those are the only two things I require. Do anything else and you die. Is that clear?”
 

“Yes.” Dieter could barely manage to croak out that last word. Faust holstered his pistol, spun around, and descended the staircase. Dieter sat down on the hard stone floor, listening as Faust’s vehicles roar out of the courtyard, trying to make sense out of what just happened.

Anna? Who is Anna?

Jost climbed back up the stairs wearily. “He’ll be gone all night. This would be a good time for you—”
 

Jost stopped in mid-sentence as he saw Dieter slumped on the floor, a stunned look on his face. “What happened?”

“Jost, my old friend, I think our Colonel has gone insane.”
 

Jost extended his hand to help Dieter up. “God help us if our officers all take so long to see the obvious. I could have told you he was crazy the first time I saw him riding that train into Holland!”

Dieter grinned sadly as he got up. “You’ve really spoken the truth this time, Jost, about more than Faust. I knew Hitler was insane the first time I heard him speak, but I did nothing. Nothing but fight for him like Faust wants me to fight for him. I’ve done my duty, and look where it’s gotten our country.”

“Well,” said Jost in his broad Bavarian drawl, “there’s duty to the army and the government, then there’s duty to God, and to yourself. They are not always the same, young man.”
 

“I wish I had understood that much before.” Dieter folded his arms against the parapet, and looked out at the setting sun. Jost put his arm around his shoulder.
 

“Now, if you had, would you be here in a position to end this insanity? No, you’d be in a penal battalion or dead, and no help to us at all. So, stop your bellyaching and go get Elsa while the Colonel is out roaming the countryside. We’ll figure out what to do when she’s safely here. Then get some sleep, I’ll wake you before midnight. Benedikt’s motorcycle is in the courtyard, you can make good cross-country time with it.”

Dieter felt Jost’s wisdom and friendship wash over him. He looked at the older man who had been through so much with him. “Do you talk to all
Hauptmanns
like that?”

“Only the ones who need it, boy. Go.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

16 April 1945

Wolfen, Germany
 

 
Lieutenant Colonel Howard Sadler braked the jeep to a halt in front of his headquarters tent and got out cursing. “Goddamn sonuvabitch!”
 

Captain Barney Canfield, his Intelligence Officer, got out of the passenger seat, unwrapping his white knuckled hands from the doorframe. He followed Sadler into the tent as the sentry on duty snapped to attention. Seconds later, the escort jeep with its mounted .50 caliber machine gun pulled in behind the Colonel’s jeep, other officers spilling out and filing into the tent like ducklings in a row. Sadler didn’t wait for the rest of his entourage to enter as he began to rant.

“There’s not a single damn German out there!” he yelled, pointing towards the Mulde River. “How in hell can they tell us to stay this side of the fucking river!”

Orders had come down from First Army HQ a week ago. All units were to approach the Mulde River line, hold, and go no further. Headquarters didn’t want any American units running into Russians before the link-up had been properly planned. This made eminent sense to most veteran GIs, who were glad of a break, a chance to rest, and not get shot at. It made no sense to Lieutenant Colonel Howard Sadler, the newly appointed commanding officer of the 537
^th
Regimental Combat Team.

Sadler paced back and forth within the narrow confines of the tent, stroking his moustache nervously as he waited for the rest of his officers to file in, thinking about what to do next. Everything depended upon his getting into action. Sadler, a loud, brash, self-aggrandizing officer, had spent the last two years in various rear-area supply posts, and had never previously requested a combat command. He had risen quickly in rank, due as much to his ability to claim credit for other’s work as his own. He had been comfortable far from the front lines, and could have waited out the end of the war without encountering any danger. The only problem was that Sadler had political ambitions. There was very little he was actually suited to do, and he planned to use his rank and wartime service to gain political office. With the war finally winding down, Sadler had requested a combat command, hoping to participate in one final battle that would secure his reputation. With that one glorious moment, his political future would be certain. His rear-area service need not be mentioned. Voters could be left to assume he had been in combat since the Normandy invasion.

Sadler had known it would not be easy to take over command of the 537
^th
RCT. His junior officers were aware he had no combat experience, so he had tried to look and act the part. He lived in a tent while in the field, saying he wouldn’t take up residence in anything better than his men had. He drove his own jeep and led reconnaissance patrols, not because he wanted to, but because he knew he needed to. He wanted the support of all his officers when he made his big move.
 

All his hopes and plans had come to nothing. For the last week, the 537
^th
RCT had been waiting outside of Wolfen, on the west bank of the Mulde River. It seemed certain to Sadler that the war would end with him sitting in this damn tent without a single battle to his credit. Today it had been too much. He had jumped in his jeep, taking his Intelligence Officer along and trailing another jeep with aides and guards. They crossed the river and drove in every direction for an hour. They didn’t see a single German soldier. Sadler was certain his moment had come.

“The front is wide open, and we’re supposed to sit here and wait until the Germans reinforce this area. We could lose hundreds of lives trying to cross this river under fire!”

“But sir,” Captain Canfield said. “Corps Intelligence hasn’t heard about any German withdrawal, and our orders haven’t changed. We could get chewed out for crossing over today.” 
“Hell, Canfield, that was just a little patrol, no one’s going to say anything about it.”
 

Sadler looked at the map again, stroking his moustache. He made a decision. To hell with Corps.

“We’re crossing over. Canfield, inform 1
^st
and 2
^nd
Battalions, my Headquarters Platoon and the Reconnaissance Platoon. We leave in one hour. The 3
^rd
stays here on reserve and to keep up appearances. We’ll inform Corps HQ once we’ve made it to the Elbe.”

 
There was silence in the room as his staff exchanged uncertain looks.
 

“Well?” snapped Sadler.

“Yes, sir,” answered each officer.
 

“Then get going. We move out in one hour.” He turned to his second in command. “Major Thomas, you’re in charge here. Hold Easy and Fox Companies in readiness and keep Corps off my back.”

“What if they order you to return, sir?”

“The radio vehicles will cross with us, but I’ll keep them well to the rear. That way any order to return would, ah, take a good deal of time to get to me. Got it? Now get the hell outta my way.”

Sixty minutes later, the column pulled out and crossed the river. The Recce Platoon led the way in their halftracks, followed by the Headquarters Platoon in jeeps with mounted .50 caliber machine guns, and two battalions in deuce-and-a-half trucks. Once out of sight of the river, Sadler ordered the two radio vehicles and an infantry squad to drop back.
 

“Wait one hour, then follow us, slowly. Send a jeep up with any communications,” Sadler ordered the technical sergeant in charge of the radios. “Except if it’s an order to return. Do you understand me?”

“I get it, sir. Which way are you headed?”

“Due west, to a town called Pretzsch on the Elbe River.”

His planned route took him directly by Hill 182 and Dieter’s Hiwis at Bad Schmiedeberg.
 

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

17 April 1945

On the road to Eutzsch, Germany

It was after midnight as Dieter opened up the BMW full throttle on the deserted country road. Only a narrow beam of light shown through the taped headlight, but even this was unnecessary. The dirt and gravel road was white in the moonlight and he could easily make out the twists and turns. His mind was racing, hoping Elsa would be waiting at the hut in the woods as he tried to plan out his next move. How could he make contact with the Americans? What about the SS and Faust? What about his own men? He knew he could count on Jost and Hans, possibly Benedikt. Would the others follow him, or were some so dedicated to the mission there would be a fight? Where could he hide Elsa that Faust wouldn’t find her, but where she could stay close to him, ready for their break to the American lines?

One problem at a time, he told himself. He slowed the motorcycle and turned onto a field, crossing it until he came to a farm track. He followed the rutted path into the woods, where he shut down the BMW and pulled it off into the trees. Making his way up the slope in the dark was more difficult than he had imagined, and he tripped over roots and rocks, falling repeatedly. No light from the partial moon penetrated the canopy of pine branches above him. He had to stop several times to get his bearings and catch his breath, until he emerged on the ridge near the hut, thinking it was somewhere off to his left. He walked slowly and cautiously down the dark path, waiting to quiet his labored breathing and to listen for any movement. Minutes later, he made out the outline of the hut. It was dark and quiet. He stood by a tree and observed the area for ten minutes. There was always the chance that Elsa had been followed, that some of Faust’s men were waiting for him, in or outside of the hut. He heard nothing but the wind swooshing through the pines. He drew his pistol.