by Eric Meyer
“I swear to God, Roth, if this goes wrong I’ll make sure you get the first bullet.”
I smiled at him. “The last man that threatened me like that is dead. I’d be careful about following in his shoes if I were you.”
I almost bit off my tongue as I said it, that particular incident was in the past and it was best to leave it there. He took out his pistol and start to examine, he extracted the clip, inspected the bullets, put the clip back in, chambered a round and worked the slide. Then he put it on safe, but kept hold of it. He looked at me calmly and said, “We’ll see about that.”
I heard a shout from Wasser. “Town coming up, about two kilometers away.”
I looked over the piles of logs. It was late afternoon and the light had faded, it was almost dark, but I could make out the ghostly outline of some buildings. They were all in darkness, the Russians observed the blackout, although with electricity and oil being in such short supply even before the war, they never did show much light anyway. Wasser stopped the tractor and we got out to stretch our legs. Tamara climbed down and came to join us, we were all stiff and frozen.
“The town is Istra, we have about twenty five kilometers more before we reach the outskirts of Moscow.”
Even Hachmann looked impressed.
“Can you help us find a way to get past the Moscow defenses?”
I could see her struggling with her conscience. But she had little choice, she’d thrown in her lot with us, if we were caught she would suffer too.
“Yes, I can, I will show it to you. There is a railway tunnel, we can travel through it and they will not see us.”
“What about the trains? Do they stop running at night?
“No, we hear them coming past the farm all through the night. We will need to be very careful, they come often.”
Hachmann looked incredulous, Goethe snorted. “You’re suggesting drive go through a railway tunnel with this pile of junk? If we get the timing wrong a train will do the Red Army’s job for it.”
He stalked off to relieve himself at the side of the trailer. Tamara looked away.
“Is there no other way?” Hachmann asked her.
She shrugged. “There may be, but I do not know it.”
He stared at her. “Very well. For your sake, this had better not be a trap.”
I rounded on him. “Hachmann, she’s got as much at stake as we have, you know that. If the Russians find those dead militiamen she’ll be lucky to be sent to a gulag.”
“Maybe, but I warn you, I shall be watching her.”
“Give it a rest, Hachmann, we need to move past this town. We can get to this railway tunnel and slip into the city while it’s still dark.”
Just then we heard a faint noise that rapidly grew to a roar, a train was heading along the line towards us, out of Moscow. As it went past we could see lines of cattle cars, the doors were partially open and soldiers leaned out. Reinforcements for the Red Army, probably for the Rzhev front. We waved to them, we were indistinguishable from Soviet troops in our white suits and militia uniforms, with sheepskin hats on our heads and PPSh sub machine guns in our hands. Some of the soldiers waved back. I had the feeling for the first time that there was just a faint chance that we might pull this off. But the odds were still massively stacked against us.
“Tamara, how far is it to the tunnel?”
“About twenty kilometers, it is just before the city.”
I shouted for the men to mount up, it was time to move on. To Moscow.
The small town of Istra caused us no problems. I could see out through a gap in the logs, twice militia patrols waved to the tractor and Wasser and Tamara waved back, but none tried to stop us. The temperature fell lower and lower, then snow started to fall, adding to the packed snow already on the ground. We were a long way from the battle lines, the countryside was asleep or seemed to be and the only noise, indeed the only movement for kilometers around came from the tractor engine. Another hour went by, the snow thickened and then the tractor stopped. I’d been dozing, it was a mistake, I should have been more alert. A ski patrol had waved Wasser to a halt, there were six of them, spread across the track. I spoke almost silently. “Blomberg, set up one of the MG34s, we might need it. Be very, very quiet.”
Brenner helped him set the weapon against a small gap between the logs that we’d left for this purpose. They laced a belt of ammunition into the breach and waited while I watched the patrol question Wasser and Tamara. We had a simple plan to get over Wasser’s lack of any Russian. He was deaf and dumb. I could see the lead soldier speaking sharply to Tamara, he appeared to be questioning her. Then he gave a command to two of his men and they took off their skis and walked over to inspect the trailer. I quietly cocked my PPSh and heard the others do the same. I waited as the two Russians jumped up onto the pile of logs. The first soldier lifted a log right above me. For a brief instant, I was staring into the shocked, bearded face of a Soviet soldier. I pulled the trigger, at the same time I heard Goethe open fire and knock down the other man, and then we leapt up and began running towards the other four soldiers. Blomberg and Brenner opened fire, three of the Russians were scythed down in the first burst, the last one nimbly ducked out of sight behind the tractor. The man was armed with a Mosin Nagant, I’d seen him unslinging it and Wasser was pulling out his Walther. I hadn’t allowed anything bigger on the tractor, it would have been a giveaway. Perhaps I’d been wrong. The Russian was lying on the ground now, taking well-aimed shots at us from behind one of the tractor’s large wheels. A bullet whistled past my head and I had to crouch down under cover. I could see Wasser trying to get a shot at the Russian with his pistol, but he couldn’t get near enough, the rifle moved towards him every time he got close. Tamara was still sitting on the metal tractor seat, probably frozen in fear.
The machine gunners had stopped now, for fear of hitting Wasser or Tamara. It was a standoff, we stood covering the Russian with PPShs and Walthers, Hachmann was beside me, but none of us could hit the other. Then Wasser darted away, perhaps to draw his fire, the Russian stood up to get a shot. He was still out of our line of sight, I ran around to try to shoot him before he could draw a bead on Wasser and a bullet whistled past my ear. Who the hell had fired that? Hachmann? I hadn’t seen the Russian shoot, I’d been wondering if the Gestapo man would take advantage of a firefight to kill me, he obviously saw me as a threat. A bullet cracked out, but this time it was the Russian who had fired. I needed to get closer to get a shot in at him. Before I could get near enough, Tamara saw him, picked up a huge, steel wrench from a toolbox next to the seat and brought it down heavily on the man’s head. He froze, then slid down to the ground. I ran over fast and checked him but he was unconscious. I looked up at Tamara and smiled. “Thank you.”
She nodded. “At least this one was armed with a rifle. He had a chance, my father did not.”
The men came up with us, I glared at Hachmann and he glared back. I couldn’t be certain it was him who had fired the shot, but I was very suspicious. He looked with interest at the unconscious Russian.
“I will interrogate him when he comes around, we need to know how many more troops there are between the town and that tunnel entrance.”
“He will never tell you,” Tamara said. “These ski troops are Siberians, they are very tough. You’re wasting your time.”
The Gestapo man nodded. “That will make him the first prisoner I have questioned who has refused to answer. We’ll see. Scharfuhrer Goethe, would you tie him securely for me. Tamara, you will interpret.”
Goethe trussed the man to a nearby tree. Hachmann slapped his face several times until he groaned and his eyes opened a fraction. He struggled against the ropes, then slumped as he realized he was tied tightly.
“Ask him how many soldiers are patrolling along the line.”
Tamara repeated the question, the man shook his head and spat at her, a gob of phlegm ran down her fur jacket. Hachmann only smiled and said to Tamara, “I suggest you look away, I am goi
ng to show him how seriously I want the answers to my questions.
I went away to supervise the men who were clearing the bodies and burying them in a deep snowdrift. We all looked around when we heard a piercing scream. The Russian’s face was a mask of red blood, Hachmann stood back from him. I ran over, when I got closer I realized that he’d cut off the man’s nose.
“Hachmann, that’s going too far, he’s just a prisoner. Leave him alone, if he won’t tell us we’ll find out another way.”
“He will answer, Roth. Stay out of this, you’re in enough trouble with the Gestapo as it is. Tamara, you are here as an interpreter so do your job, ask him again.”
She spoke to him but the Russian still shook his head. He was as defiant as ever, despite the terrible pain he must have been in.
“Scharfuhrer Goethe, take down his trousers,” Hachmann barked.
I went to protest, but decided that it would only give Hachmann an excuse to be even more unpleasant. I’d have walked away if Tamara hadn’t been forced to stay. The Russian was shaking violently in terror, I doubted it was the cold, although it was well below zero the man was sweating. Hachmann stooped over him, his knife held in one hand, the other held the man’s testicles.
“Ask him again.”
She spoke again, she was clearly pleading with him. But he shook his head, tears were running down his face. The knife slashed across once and a spurt of blood colored the snow, he’d cut off one of the man’s testicles. The Russian screamed again.
“Ask him again.”
“No, please stop,” she whimpered.
In reply, Hachmann slashed again and took the other testicle.
“Last chance, ask him. Tell him what comes next, but he already knows. Tell him if he answers me I will let him keep his manhood.”
More rapid Russian and this time the man sobbed out a reply, Tamara translated. The man had told her there was one other patrol between us and the railway tunnel, six men in all. Hachmann smiled.
“Thank you.”
He slashed across the Russian’s throat with his knife and a last torrent of blood spurted out onto the snow. The Russian thrashed for a short time trying to draw breath, then he slumped against the ropes.
Tamara looked at him angrily. “You said you would leave him his manhood!” Hachmann gestured casually. “Look, it is still there.”
We buried the Russian with his comrades in the snowdrift and climbed back aboard the tractor, then we continued on to our destination. I’d ordered both MG34s to be manned ready now that we knew another ski patrol was in the area. We were all alert, waiting for the first sighting of the soldiers. They still caught us unawares, one moment there was nothing and then they swooped down on us, almost silent on their skis. They skidded around in a half turn and snowploughed to a stop, all six of them across our line of travel. It was impressive skiing, I suspect they were showing off when they sighted an attractive girl sitting on the tractor seat. But this time we were waiting for them, I shouted, “Fire!” and the two MG34s erupted, a hail of bullets knocked them to the ground, two were only wounded and tried to escape but we caught them with the PPShs. Inside of a few seconds they were all dead or dying.
“Get their bodies out of sight, Goethe, we don’t want the enemy seeing anything suspicious.”
More Russian bodies were buried deep into the snowdrifts. Hachmann stood close, he was no doubt waiting to point out to me that without his brutal torture of the soldier we wouldn’t have been prepared for these ski troops, but I was sick and tired of the bloodshed and I ignored him. Ambushing troops and cutting them down unexpectedly was part of fighting a war, but it didn’t mean I had to enjoy it. I still wasn’t sure if it was him who had fired that shot when we tangled with the first patrol. But I was waiting for him to make another move, I had my pistol tucked inside my jacket instead of in the holster, it might give me an edge if I needed one. Tamara came to me and pulled me away, she wanted to speak to me quietly. Her face was even paler, ever since we’d come to her farm she’d seen an increasing number of men slaughtered and crudely buried in the snow.
“Obersturmfuhrer Roth, what is to become of me after this is over?”
“Please, call me Paul. I honestly don’t know, Tamara. Do you have any family anywhere?”
“I left my family back at the farm, there is no one else. I did have a relation in Pskov, maybe they are still there, I don’t know.”
I had no idea why I said next what I did, except that I felt attracted to this Russian girl. She was very pretty, there was no doubt, but she was strong and determined too. I though of her using that wrench on the head of the Russian. Yes, she was pretty tough.
“I’ll make sure you’re alright, Tamara. I’ll take care of you, I promise you.”
She smiled and took my hand, held it tightly. I could see Hachmann a short distance away, he was watching through the gloom, smiling.
We moved again off on slow and precarious journey to Moscow. I was astonished that we didn’t meet more Russian troops, I think that only the huge battles raging around Rzhev saved us, the Russians were looking the other way. I smiled, thinking that I could probably have led the entire Sonderbattalion Kurz into Moscow that night and they wouldn’t have noticed. We reached the tunnel, a darker patch in the side of a low hillside where the rails disappeared. I’d already made my plans for going through. It was a single-track line and the tunnel was very narrow, just wide enough for a train to go through. Or a tractor and trailer. We stopped and they gathered around for a briefing.
“We’ll wait until a train comes, as soon as it has passed we’ll start through the tunnel. How long will it take to get through, Tamara?”
“I think about twenty minutes, it is a very long tunnel.”
“Alright, that should be enough time for us to reach the other end before the next train comes.”
She nodded in agreement. “I think so, yes.”
“Let’s get the tractor out of sight, all we can do now is wait.”
We found a clump of trees a hundred meters away, they were sparse and wouldn’t have hidden us in daylight, but at night, even a moonlit night like this one, it was different. We waited in the shadows for about half an hour, then we heard a whistle, the roar of the steam engine, then the train thundered out of the tunnel, heading west, away from Moscow towards Rzhev. This time it was carrying flatcars loaded with artillery. I thought that we should have been sabotaging the line to stop more ordnance from reaching the Red Army and being put to use against our troops, but it was not my decision. The Fuhrer wanted the relic, this preposterous Robe, and so we would have to move heaven and earth to give it to him. If we didn’t die first, of course, an early death was a strong possibility. The train disappeared into the distance, I shouted to Wasser to start up and he put the tractor into gear. We reached the railway line and he turned onto it, straddling the tracks as we started our journey through the dark depths of the tunnel. I was on the tractor now, standing on the footplate and clinging on so that I could see what faced us ahead. The men had tossed aside the logs and openly set up the two MG34s, if anyone caught sight of us now we were finished anyway, unless we could shoot first.
“Does the tractor have lights fitted to it?” I shouted to Tamara.
She shook her head. So much for that, we’d have to manage without. Wasser was steering by feeling his way along the lines, correcting the wheel every time he felt the tires start to lift over the steel rail. After fifteen minutes, we saw moonlight ahead of us. We also heard the sound of a train, coming up fast behind us.
“I thought we would have enough time to get through,” I said to her accusingly.
“I’m sorry, they must be running more trains than usual,” she replied miserably.
No doubt she was right, it wasn’t her fault. I tried to estimate the distance we had to travel to get out of the tunnel against the time it would take for the oncoming train to reach us. The equation didn’t balance out, we were in trouble. I shouted for Wasser to keep goin
g, then clambered over to the trailer. Blomberg helped pull me up, they were watching me, perhaps they were waiting for a miracle.
“We’re fucked, aren’t we?” Goethe asked nastily.
“I told you not to trust that Russian bitch,” Hachmann spat out. “Now we’re all dead because of her. I should have put a bullet in her head.”
“How the hell could she be expected to know the latest train schedules? But listen, we’re not finished yet. You know what a dead man’s handle is?”
They all shook their heads. “I read about it as a boy, all railway engines have a lever, if the driver falls ill or unconscious he let’s go of the lever and it stops the train.”
“Yes, so what?” Hachmann said dangerously. “Do you think by some miracle the driver is about to have a heart attack?”
But Goethe and the others had grasped what I was saying, they were already swinging the MG34s around to point at the engine. Blomberg and Vielberg had their hands on the triggers, the wooden stocks of the guns pressed to their shoulders. Goethe and Brenner fed the ammunition belts into the breaches, ready to hook up the next belt when the first one ran through, machine guns used up bullets at an alarming rate.
“Open fire! Kill that damned driver, it’s our only chance!”