In the garrisons near the first drop zones twelve Germans had killed themselves, seemingly out of their minds with terror, they had taken their own lives. One had pulled the pin of his own grenade the night after the coffin drop. That grenade had killed two others, and wounded many more.
Melvin Hale, the tail gunner from the first drop had recovered after several weeks in a German Military Hospital. Soon after he had been transferred to Luftstalag III, a POW camp for downed aircrews and Parachute troops. He never spoke to other prisoners about the last mission he had flown.
Operation R had one more drop. In February 1944 a coffin was dropped from another RAF Lancaster over the forests of the Ardennes. A German Patrol found the package over a week after it was released from the bomber. The GESTAPO was informed, and infantry surrounded the area. A medium Panzer company, with 14 Pz. IV tanks was dispatched to the area, the Germans anticipated a rash of killings by the underground.
It was a Panzer grenadier that first noticed that this coffin had failed to open. Shortly after the intact coffin was loaded onto an army truck, and promptly driven to the nearest GESTAPO office.
Several specialists from the SS were waiting when the sealed Coffin was unloaded. With Great care the coffin was moved into the building, and placed in a heavily guarded room.
Before it was opened the parachute, and everything attached was carefully examined by some of the brightest minds in the Gestapo. The entire box was photographed, with the examiners taking special note of the occult symbols carved with great care into the ancient wood. This coffin was A species of Olive wood normally found in Palestine.
The GESTAPO attempted to take x-rays of the coffin, but like the others this one had a coating of lead on the inside, limiting what could be seen on the radiographs.
It took almost an hour for the “experts” to cut open the coffin. No one was prepared for what they found inside.
LONDON:
“Prime Minister, Good to see you again.”
“Major, always good to see you, how are we this afternoon?”
“Excellent sir. In fact, I have good news. The final mission of Operation R went off last night.”
The P.M. Smiled. This was after all one of his favorite pet projects. “So? You just going to leave me in suspense, or tell me how it went?”
“Well sir, we have information that this drop did not go open. In light of that I think it would be wise to take countermeasures. Just in case Hitler decides to return the favor.”
Winston Churchill nodded and went back to his papers, leaving the major to see himself out. The P.M. waited until the door had closed, then smiled wickedly. He loved it when a plan came together.
Hours later a coded message (not very well coded, as the Germans had it intercepted and decoded only hours after it was send.) went out to plane spotters all over England. It told them to all watch out for any “strange bombs” dropped from German planes. It also advised them that any “strange bomb” was to be handled only by specially trained bomb disposal units.
“So, the English are worried we are going to return their gift?” A German Officer said reading the decoded message. “well then, let us not ruin the surprise.” “Open it.” He ordered.
“Herr General, are you sure?” his aide-de-camp asked, not very excited about the prospects of opening the coffin.
“You’re dismissed.” The general ordered, waving his hand, and thus saving the life of his aid.
The first thing they saw was that there really was a body inside the coffin. The Germans took great care not to remove the stake impaled into the corpses chest. It was evident to everyone in the room that this was a very old body. The remains were mostly skeletal, and the sharp and very large canine teeth could be seen in the upper jaw.
Inside the coffin where more occult type symbols, and this coffin had many more than any of the previously found empty coffins. A wooden stake was imbedded into the chest, where the heart would have been. The interior wood was stained with the fluids of decay, just as the others had been.
This corpse was also decapitated, the head having been cleanly cut by a very sharp blade of a sword or axe. Cloves of dried Garlic were found throughout the coffin. The general did not know what he was expecting when he arrived, but it was not this. The English had taken great pains to drop this corpse onto German Soil (he thought everything was German soil.) But why? It made no sense. Could it really be true? Could the English really have found some ancient monster? Where they mad to release it on his countrymen? His heart beat faster and faster. It was hard to catch his breath. He blinked, but his eyes could not seem to focus.
The General could only make out the stake, and the inlayed silver artfully crafted into it. His head began to throb, he closed his eyes hard, trying to think of a reason the English would do such a terrible thing. He was overcome with a fear more intense than a fear of death. He knew he was in the presence of pure evil. He must stop it, it was his duty. The General could see one of the GESTAPO men looking closely at the corpse. “he’s going to remove the Stake, THAT FOOL!” he thought to himself. “I must stop him.” The General thought.
Before he knew what he was doing the General drew his Walther, 7.65mm. He took as careful aim as his pounding heart would allow, then fired. The .32 caliber bullet caught the GESTAPO man in the base of the skull. The Generals Aim had been true. “I have done my duty.” He thought. It was the Generals last thought, as soon after he drew his pistol one of the SS men shot him.
The troops guarding the building heard the shots. A few exchanged worried looks. They were all afraid. Moments later the troops began tossing grenades into the building. Some began to fire randomly into the building. 75mm Main guns from the Panzer IV’s joined the MG42 fire of the infantry and halftracks.
When it was all over the building had been reduced to rubble. Eighteen Germans officers, SS men, and Gestapo members were dead. Thirty-Five French civilians were also killed. Those that had survived the initial exchange of gunfire were trapped inside the building as the commander of the tank platoon ordered the rubble to be burned and containers of benzine were tossed through broken windows and doors. No attempt was made to recover any of the bodies.
June 8th, 1944, Normandy region of France.
The Panzer commander who had ordered the GESTAPO building blown up was killed in an allied air raid. A pair of American P47 thunderbolts had taken out most of his tanks with rockets, the commander was killed inside his tank.
Advancing British troops had found the burned out Pz. IV, in the commanders hatch the cremated body of the company commander could still be seen clutching a rosary. The British troops hurriedly buried the body near a hedgerow, and reported the death to the Red Cross.
LONDON:
A clerk walked down another flight of stairs. The corridor was dimly lit, as with most bomb shelters. The clerk carried a sealed file. “Operation R” was typed on the file. “TOP Secret” was stamped in red ink several places on the file. It took several moments to find the correct place to store the file. Pulling back a File named “Operation Q: TOP SECRET” the clerk placed the “R” file into the stack, carefully closing the drawer she then locked the cabinet. Then replaced and signed the seal over the drawer. Some file would never be declassified, Operation R was one of them.
Private Adam Boyle, 1st battalion, Suffolk Regiment, 8th Infantry Brigade, 3rd British Infantry Division had landed with his unit in France on D-Day. At 20 he assumed that he would live forever, or at least a bit longer. The surety of youth is a wonderful armor. The fighting those first days was not as horrible as his officers and NCOs had led him to believe. Being under the command of Monty had insured that Private Boyle had received an abundance of training.
The Hedgerows of Normandy provided and abundance of perfect ambush sites for the Wehrmacht. The first burst from the MG42 cutdown his commander, and the Bren gunner. At 1200 rounds per minuet the MG42 was a terrifying weapon to face. It didn’t help that the S.S. troops were very well trained
it its use.
“BLOODY MAHCINE GUN!” another infantryman yelled over the din of the German Machine gun.
“When he changes barrels, we move.” Boyle said to the man lying next to him in the ditch. He got a nod in return.
“Let hope they only have one of the fucking things!” Both men knew the Germans were in the habit of putting two MG42’s together, one shooting until the barrel needed changing from the heat, then the other would fire at anyone who thought it was a good time to move from cover. It seemed like hours before the cacophony of machine gun fire ebbed, signaling a barrel change.
They say that a fit soldier can always better his best run time when trying to avoid gunfire. Private Boyle was convinced this was true, sprinting like a man chased by the devil himself as the focused on a small bit of cover that might protect him from the swarm of 7.92mm bullets soon to be tearing through the air in his direction. He could hear the whistle of .303 bullets as they flew past him trying to help suppress the German gun crew.
“Surprise!” Boyle yelled, diving into the meager cover as he lobbed a Mills bomb into the German position. At first, he figured the impact was from landing wrong as he dove into cover. As he was busy covering his head and vital organs from the grenade blast, he didn’t look at the site of pain.
“Your Bleeding, where you hit?” Another soldier said, joining him in cover.
“Bloody Huns.” Boyle said, noticing it was getting harder to breath.
“20-year-old, gunshot wound to the chest.” The nurse informed the doctor as they pushed a very pale Private Boyle into the Operating theater.
“Get the tunic off.” Ordered the doctor as he helped the other staff cut off the young man’s uniform.
Private Boyle, would spend four hours in surgery as the doctors repaired the damage to his left lung. He had a few other injuries, mostly blast and fragmentation injuries from his own grenade as he took out the S.S. Machine gun nest by himself. He was resting after the ordeal as the surgeon found a combat officer to report this strange case too.
“Doctor, you asked to see me?” Major Standing asked, entering the doctors “office.”
“Major, thought you might find this interesting.” He said handing a small glass jar to the officer.
“Strange looking bullet.” He said, looking it over.
“Major, what you have there is a wooden bullet. I removed it from the chest of a Private just a few hours ago. He was shot with it in the chest while taking on a machine gun nest.”
“Bloody hell.”
“Lucky for the Private though, if that had been a lead bullet, well he’d not have been my concern. Even still that one broke a rib, and collapsed his lung, but didn’t penetrate to his heart.”
“How is he?” The Major asked.
“He’ll recover in a few weeks. Lucky bloke.”
“Thank you, doctor, I’ll pass this along. Please give my best to the injured man.”
“Oh, Major?” The doctor was not finished.
“Yes?” The major paused.
“Why are the Huns using wooden bullets?”
The Major paused. He was not briefed on Operation R, in fact he knew nothing about it. He could only surmise why the Germans were using nonstandard ammunition, and none of those theories made much sense.
“I’ve no idea, but I’ll be asking.” He reassured the Doctor. He would be asking, but no one was going to be able (or willing) to answer his questions.
Authors notes:
During the second world was many secret operations were undertaken by all sides. Many of these operations will never be declassified. Being a student of military history, and having a very active imagination I decided to take a few of the known facts from the conflict, and see how they could produce a good story. There is no evidence that Vampires, exist, or that they were used by any nation during the conflict. It is known however, and well documented that German and Japanese troops DID fire wooden bullets during the conflict. Some historians speculate that these bullets were fired as a result of ammunition shortages by some units. Others speculate that wooden bullets were used in order to inflict non-fatal wounds on the enemy. A wounded combatant takes several others out of the fight, as at least two soldiers are needed to carry the wounded man to an aid station.
One theory, and an easy one to discount, is that the Axis troops used wooded bullets to avoid having them being detected by metal detectors used by doctors. This was a popular theory with front line troops, and to them further proof of the depravity of the enemy. Of course, wooden bullets are easy to find with any X-ray machine, and metal detectors were not commonly used by combat hospital staff at the time of the conflict. Because wooden bullets do not have the mass of a lead or copper bullet, they rapidly loose velocity, and the result being the wounds are mostly non-fatal.
Today we have some idea of the lengths that Allied intelligence services would go to confuse and undermine the Axis leadership during the conflict. It does not seem a stretch that a leaded like Winston Churchill would approve an operation aimed at convincing the Germans they were under attack by vampires. A few English craftsmen, some careful misdirection, and a fear inducing chemical, and you have a vampire scare in occupied France during those dark days.
With the French Underground helping things along by draining a few collaborators of blood, leaving bite marks at the same time. The rumors of such a death, lead forward by the imagination of the local population, as well as some jumpy troops, and you can see how the whole thing could undermine the moral of the Germans. If such an operation was undertaken, those troops shot with wooden bullets would owe their lives to the operation.
Here is an account of American troops encountering wooden bullets during the Second World War. (http://www.trailblazersww2.org/history_woodenbullets.htm)
Wooden Bullets
Fernando Acevedo asked about the Germans using wooden bullets. Below are two accounts which confirm that both the Germans and Japanese used wooden bullets...
From Robert Hemphill (L/275) Yes, I can confirm the wooden bullets used by the German SS Storm Troopers. We had not been at Phillipsburg more than two days when we were sent out on another patrol to check out some Germans on top of a nearby mountain. I don't know where we were or how many of us were there. Check with our good platoon sergeant, Richard Becker. He would know and remember. At that time neither we nor the Germans knew who was behind whose lines. We circled the mountain about half way up not knowing we were between the large group of Germans on top and their pickets or outpost near the bottom. This is important.
I had an eye operation near the camp at Marseilles before coming to the front where I arrived with a patch over one eye. I had taken the patch off before we went on the patrol but could not see good enough to distinguish the soldiers at the top of the mountain. Others would say to me that the Germans were dressed in white winter suits. I do not believe any of us had seen these suits before. While we were standing around looking and not seeing we heard a series of Burp-gun blast. Next, we saw this German in his black helmet running up a trail on the mountain below us. He was running full tilt shouting, comrade, comrade. Every time he shouted the burp-gun would blast. It was in the hands of a tall lanky GI from our Co. Headquarters (name forgotten) who was following the German by 20 or 30 yards. I think he shot the top out of two or three trees. As we all know those burp-guns were great for entertainment but not much of a friend in battle. I carried a BAR which slowed me down a bit in the snow, but I could hit what I aimed at. The BAR was from the WW-I era, the burp-gun fresh out in the 1940's. Here again Richard B. would remember the GI's name. They ran out of hill climbing ability and/or he ran out of ammo and I believe the German was captured, probably among our first.
Our circle of troops slowly moved up the mountain. When we reached the top no one was there but us. We must have been spread too thin permitting the Germans to slip through. Coming back down the mountain I first checked out the German's outpost or picket foxhole for booby traps and/or mines. I le
arned a lot from this SS Winter Soldier about winter foxholes. The temperature was near zero and we were all without winter gear. There were fir or cedar trees everywhere. Boughs from them were made into a 2 or 3-inch mat for the foxhole floor and others covered some of the walls. It was a big hole. Maybe two men were in it. I found the wooden bullets in this mat on the floor of the foxhole. The 7mm slug was bright purple made of some hardwood. In discussing it with the others there, it was said that purple was something that causes severe pain in a wound. The wooden slug was designed to split into splinters and go in every direction as it passes through the body. It creates a wound that could not be operated on and left the man to slowly die of pain. The idea was to have a SS Trooper or two in the company showing off his bullets. Possibly demonstrating one of them on some poor soul from some other country or even Germany who had been less than respectful of the Fuhrer. I have not heard the part about the covering the wooden bullet wounds with wax. Would this be to hide it?
This wooden bullet was one of my trophies from the war. Another, was a German helmet with a bullet hole in it. Helmets were good for shrapnel but not too good for bullets. I found it in a German Jeep sized duck amphibian type vehicle which was in a ditch but not in too bad of shape. The third trophy was a Gold Cross with the SS emblem in the stone in the center. I got this when I was moved back to Regimental Headquarter and the 275th were in positions overlooking Saarbrucken. A group of German POWs were brought in to the POW compound which I was guarding. They were told to empty their pockets before being taken in for interrogation. I helped myself to this poor soul’s SS metal which would have been given to him by der furer. No loss of sleep has been experienced from my liberation of this metal. We would say as we entered a town, "Are we Liberators or Conquerors?" The Liberators took care of the people and Liberated very little else. The Conquerors took whoever and whatever they pleased. Most GIs were Liberators.
Vampires of World War Two Page 2