Young Lions Roar (24 page)

Anne followed Russ’s instructions. Russ handed her a handkerchief, which she accepted gratefully. She wiped her mouth with it but was violently sick again. Russ just managed to grab her
hair in time and hold her ponytail out of the way of the projectile vomit. Anne wiped her mouth for the second time.

“Was it like this the first time for you as well?” Anne asked.

“The ‘first time?’” Russ asked in confusion.

“When you killed someone.”

“Oh.” Russ was silent for a moment before he answered. “The first time that I killed someone was at the Battle of Wake. Not a proper person, you understand, only a Hun. But
yes, I was also violently sick, as was Bob. I killed some more Huns at Fairfax, but I wasn’t sick afterwards. Bob and I were too busy trying to escape. Like Sam and Alan, we were some of the
lucky few that managed to escape the massacre that occurred the next day. Since then I’ve killed so many Huns that I hardly give it any thought at all.” Russ shrugged his shoulders.
“It gets easier after the first one. Now I don’t give it any more thought then I would to killing a rat. It got easier for me and it will get easier for you. I guarantee it.”

“I… I hope so, Russ,” Anne said. “Because I don’t know if I could do that again. But really, Russ, feeding dead Huns to the pigs; is that strictly
necessary?”

Russ put his hands on Anne’s shoulders. “Listen, Anne. Those Nazi bastards killed your father and your mother, your uncle and your auntie, your cousin and her baby boy. They murdered
your entire family. They got what was coming to them.”

Anna nodded in agreement.

“And anyway,” Russ continued, “after we’ve killed the Huns we do have a practical problem: what do we do with all of the bodies and the uniforms and equipment that we
can’t use? We have neither the time, the energy nor the inclination to bury the dead Huns. The solution is also extremely practical. We feed them all to the pigs; they will eat absolutely
anything and everything, including bodies, uniforms and equipment, and leave no trace.”

“Except for teeth.”

“Except for teeth. For some reason the pig’s digestive system can’t cope with them and they shit them out.”

Anne laughed.

Russ smiled. He was glad to see that Anne was beginning to recover her sense of humour.

“Russ, just do me one small favour?” Anne asked.

“Yes, Anne, what is it? Anything.”

“Promise never to offer me any pork products from your farm?”

Russ stood to attention and gave the Scout salute as he solemnly gave his word. “I promise.”

“Cross your heart and hope to die?” Anne stood up.

“Cross my heart and hope to die,” Russ said.

Von Clausewitz spotted the “Mumford and Sons” lorry that had transported Blucher’s squad to the farm, and also the captured British Army staff car which
served as Monat’s patrol car. Von Clausewitz’s own lorry had also previously belonged to the same furniture removal company. Von Clausewitz shook his head with amusement as he imagined
the ridiculous sight of the mighty German army being driven up north to take part in the invasion of Scotland, transported on furniture removal lorries. He was sure that the Scots would be
absolutely quaking in their boots with fear (or laughter?) at the sight. His only consolation was that the Scots would probably be even worse equipped than the invaders were.

Von Clausewitz paused for a moment, with a puzzled expression on his face. He felt a familiar tingling in the pit of his stomach. Some thing was not quite right. Von Clausewitz used hand signals
to order his men to halt, take cover, and take up a position of all round defence. His stormtroopers automatically lay down on the sunken road, with the last two men in both fire teams turning
around to face the rear. The other soldiers faced to the left and right of the road like the legs of a giant centipede. They pulled their weapons tightly into their shoulders and carefully scanned
their fields of fire with their fingers on the trigger and their thumbs on their safety catches.

Von Clausewitz’s second in command walked up to him. “Trouble, Scharführer?” Rottenführer Schindler asked with raised eyebrows.

Von Clausewitz nodded. “Perhaps, Otto. I can see two people at the entrance to the shed, but no sign of the Obersturmführer and the rest of the patrol. Where are they?”

Schindler shrugged his shoulders. “The Obersturmführer and Scharführer Blucher are no doubt searching the buildings as we speak. They probably ordered the civilians to wait
outside. Standard procedure.”

“Maybe,” von Clausewitz answered grimly. “But something’s not right: I can feel it in my bones.”

“Shall we watch and wait for five minutes, Scharführer?” Schindler suggested.

Von Clausewitz nodded. “Good idea, Otto. We’ll wait for five minutes and see if any of our men come into view. But in the meantime, order the men to make ready for action: forward on
my command.”

“Yes, Scharführer,” Schindler replied with a jackal’s grin on his face. He was looking forward to seeing some action at last, even if it was only mopping up partisans.

Von Clausewitz raised his binoculars to his eyes.

“Look, Russ: Aurora and Alan.” Anne pointed. “Do you two lovebirds need a hand?”

Aurora and Alan both stopped pushing their loot-laden wheelbarrows in order to answer. In truth, they were glad of any excuse to stop working for a moment. Pushing wheelbarrows that were piled
high with booty across a treacherous and slippery pig shit covered cobble stoned farm courtyard was hard work.

“I will treat that comment with the contempt that it deserves. If I wasn’t so knackered I would retaliate with something suitably witty and cutting,” Alan replied haughtily.
“Luckily for you, I’m on my last legs; my arms feel as if they’re going to fall off and I don’t have the energy to reply.”

Von Clausewitz watched the scene develop two hundred metres away. The rest of his squad were safe from view and safe from fire lying down in the sunken road.

“Two more civilians, Otto. A man and a woman.” Von Clausewitz said in a low voice. “Correction: two girls and two boys in total. Where are the parents?”

“Probably with Obersturmführer Monat and Scharführer Blucher. It might be all perfectly innocent, Scharführer.”

Von Clausewitz lowered his binoculars to speak to Schindler. “You might be right, Otto. I hope so. But there’s still no sign of the patrol.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I think that the two of you are doing a marvellous job.” Russ said. “I don’t think that these two star-crossed lovers
need a hand, Anne. I’m sure that after they’ve loaded up the washing machine they’ll find some excuse to disappear upstairs in order to have some quality time. I think you know
what I’m talking about.”

Anne laughed.

“And I am sure that your intentions towards Anne are as pure as the driven snow, Russ,” Aurora said sarcastically.

“Touché!” Russ replied, but he could not help blushing with embarrassment.

“Everyone knows that your mind is as filthy as the pigs which you raise, Russ!” Aurora grabbed the nearest object that she could reach and hurled it at full force at Russ’s
head. “I just hope for Anne’s sake that your body is not as filthy as your mind!”

Russ laughed and ducked his head.

“I hope that you insist that he has a shower when he takes off those dirty dungarees, Anne!” Aurora advised.

“Don’t worry, Aurora; I will!” Anne replied with a mischievous wink.

Von Clausewitz’s face drained of colour, and he dropped his binoculars onto his chest where they dangled around his neck. He turned to face Schindler.

“What is it, Karl? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost,” Schindler said with concern.

Von Clausewitz nodded his head slowly. “I have, Otto; Monat and his men are dead. The girl threw a jackboot at her friends. A German Army jackboot.”

Schindler stiffened to a position of attention. “What are your orders, Scharführer?”

Von Clausewitz snapped out of his momentary stupor and pulled himself together. He turned around to face his stormtroopers, the professional soldier once more. “Squad, listen in: the rest
of the patrol are dead. partisans have killed them. There are four partisans two hundred yards to our front in front of a shed. Charlie fire team will cross over the fence onto the field on the
left hand side of the road, and Delta fire team will cross over the fence on the right hand side of the road. Shake out into extended line. We will carry out a frontal assault on the shed with this
road as our axis of advance. We need prisoners in order to find out what happened to our men. Don’t fire until we’re fired upon and only at my command. Advance at the double.
Understood?”

“Understood,” his men chorused.

“All right, let’s go.” Von Clausewitz nodded grimly. “Sieg Heil!”

Russ’s brows furrowed in confusion.

“What is it?” Anne asked as she placed a hand on his arm.

“Both of the fences are shaking,” Russ replied. “Look.” He pointed at the two fences that ran parallel on either side of the road that led out of the farm.

“Pigs?” Anne asked.

Russ shook his head. “No! Germans! Take cover!”

At that precise moment a burst of machine gun fire cut Russ and Anne down where they stood.

Aurora stood rooted to the spot in horror with her hand to her mouth, oblivious to the rounds that ricocheted off the cobblestones at her feet. A thin stream of urine ran down her leg and formed
a rapidly expanding pool on the cobblestones. “Aurora! Come on!” Alan shouted as he grabbed her by the arm and pulled her into the farmhouse.

“But… Anne… Russ…” Aurora protested as Alan slammed the front door shut.

“They’re both dead, Aurora, and we will be as well if we don’t start fighting back. Quickly, grab a gun and start shooting.”

“But from where, Alan?” Aurora asked as another volley of rounds slammed into the wall of the shed. “The weapons are in the shed.”

“Christ, you’re right,” Alan replied. “Well, we better think of something quick, because we’ve got about thirty seconds until those Nazis reach us!”

Von Clausewitz led his men at the double towards the shed, with his Schmessier pulled tightly into his shoulder and with his finger resting on the trigger guard. “Otto,
take Delta fire team and assault the farm house. Half your men through the front door and the other half through the back. I’ll assault the shed with Charlie fire team.”

“Yes, Scharführer!” Schindler replied. “You heard the Scharführer! Delta, follow me!” Schindler fired a burst of bullets at the farmhouse as his stormtroopers
followed him at a run.

“We’re under attack!” Leon shouted. “Quickly, Alice, break out the weapons! Sam and Bob, barricade the main door!” he ordered.

Sam and Bob both ran towards the front of the shed, making sure that they didn’t run directly behind the shed door. Although the walls of the shed were made of concrete blocks the door was
only made of corrugated iron, and was rapidly beginning to resemble the surface of a cheese grater. The rounds punched through the door as if it was made of paper.

“Sam! Start building a barricade made out of bales of hay! They’ll act as a bulletproof barrier. When Dad returns with the weapons we’ll kick the door open, return fire, and
give the Huns a nasty shock!” Bob shouted.

“Quick thinking, Batman!” Sam replied. The boys swiftly built a barrier two hay bales thick and two hay bales high directly behind the door.

Schindler’s fire team quickly reached the farmhouse. “Brandt, Polanski and me will go through the front; Schmitt and Mueller will go through the back,
understood?”

“Yes, Corporal!” his men chorused.

“Let’s go!” Schindler kicked open the front door, fired a short, sharp burst of rounds into the room, and backed out. Brandt swiftly threw a grenade into the room.
“Grenade!” They waited for the grenade to explode before they charged straight in.

Alan fired one cartridge into Schindler’s chest at point-blank range and another cartridge into Brandt’s chest. Both men collapsed onto the floor of the kitchen. Polanski rapidly
retreated out of the front door.

“Whatever you’re going to do, do it quick, Aurora. They won’t fall for the same trick twice,” Alan said urgently as he reloaded Leon’s shotgun with another two
cartridges.

“How much time have we got?” Aurora asked.

“About five minutes.”

Aurora picked up the phone and dialled desperately, “Please answer the phone…”

“Ready?” Leon asked.

“Yes, Dad,” Bob answered as he held the MG 42 machine gun in a tight grip. Sam knelt beside him, tenderly cradling the belt of machine gun bullets in his hands.

As Leon pushed open the door, Bob squeezed the trigger and swept the courtyard with a spray of rounds. Sam smiled as he saw a stormtrooper standing by the front door to the farmhouse fall to the
ground and lie in a crumpled heap. Polanski was dead before he hit the ground.

A burst of rounds flew over the boys’ heads and made Sam and Bob duck. A grenade sailed through the air and landed behind the boys. Leon picked it up and threw it out of the door. The
grenade exploded in the courtyard, sending up a shower of shrapnel, pig shit and broken cobblestones. Another grenade swiftly followed the first, and Leon repeated the action.

“We’re in a tight spot…” Bob said.

“Shut up and keep firing!” Leon shouted.

A stormtrooper stepped out from behind the lorry in the courtyard and threw a grenade. The grenade cart wheeled through the air and bounced off the front of the shed wall and exploded in the
courtyard. Another stormtrooper stepped out to throw another grenade, but Bob cut him down with a brief burst of bullets. The German fell backwards and dropped the grenade, which exploded behind
the lorry.

Sam smiled as he heard the cries of at least two men screaming out in pain and agony. “Good shooting, Bob!”

“Verdamnt!” Von Clausewitz swore furiously. This was not going according to plan. Four of his stormtroopers were already killed or wounded and he was rapidly
running out of men, as well as ideas. Von Clausewitz punched his fist into the palm of his hand with frustration. He needed to try another strategy before his squad became combat ineffective.