Gradually the sound of digging faded away and a deathly silence hung over the valley. Occasionally a star shell illuminated the sky when they would all hug the ground.
Shortly before midnight the forward units passed through their lines. They loomed up out of the darkness like black monsters and although they were expected the men gripped their rifles and watched them cautiously. When they were through, they knew that nothing stood between them and the enemy.
As the night passed, Leeburg suffered untold mental agonies. Waves of terror would pass through his body gripping his stomach muscles and loosening his bowels. The feeling would pass leaving him feeling weak and tired.
Often he crawled to the other positions of his section more to occupy himself than to reassure his men. They all felt the same. Some put up a front of bravado as did Corporal Garner. Others disobeyed orders and buried themselves in the bottom of their pits with a cigarette. Most remained silent and prayed.
Only one of them visibly shook with fear and that was Siegel. His teeth chattered and he trembled from head to foot. Fortunately he was with Obrecht, a seasoned campaigner. A much older man who had taken Siegel under his wing. He spent the night helping to console Siegel and allay his fears.
As dawn approached the men prepared themselves for the onslaught…
Lieutenant Merkel made one last tour of inspection before the dawn broke through. Having satisfied himself that his men were well dug in and camouflaged he returned to his own trench and watched the grey light of dawn creep into the darkness. With a bit of luck, he thought, they should be all right.
The enemy armour was expected to veer south, to their right flank. It should only be the infantry that they had to contend with. He scanned the ground around him as it came clearer. Behind them was the cluster of farmhouses and the small church. They were shabby, dirty yellow buildings. Picturesque in the bright sunshine, but drab and uninviting in the early dawn.
Their occupants would all be in the mountains, he thought. He would not have to forget the bands of partisans and guerrillas who hid in the mountains ready to stab them in the back. He hated them and their methods, whether they were pro German or not. It was not his kind of warfare.
Encircling the town were the mountains and he could see the green of the trees below the line of the mist. The rest of their battalion was spread out, behind them towards the trees and to their left, to stop the enemy infantry outflanking their defences. In front of him was their own forward position and beyond that the broad flat valley with its fields of crops. It was about two kilometres wide and rose sharply towards the trees on the far side.
There was only one pass down that slope, he thought, and that was to their right. The only place where the enemy armour could trickle into the valley, and there was no point in them turning north, there was no escape. They would have to go south.
Having studied the ground tactically, his mind turned back to his ‘O’ group with Major Reitzer. The Major had been very meticulous in his orders, even to the extent of telling him which section he wanted out front. It was not a detail he usually concerned himself with, or should. What was there between Reitzer and his Sergeant Leeburg? he wondered. What was their background? He felt that Reitzer was going to be continually on the Sergeant’s back. Why? What had caused this resentment? He felt a little sorry for Leeburg. He liked the lad. He liked the way he had handled his section when they had been in reserve. What had Leeburg been doing before he joined them? Instructing in mountain warfare? Yes, he looked the type. Probably a first class skier. Wonder why he had never been commissioned?
A distant rumble of gun fire attracted his attention. He looked up at the sky. A mist still hung over the valley and where the sun would be was a faint glimmer of orange. So long as the mist hung there, they would be free of any artillery barrage. He sighed and waited.
As the grey light of dawn broke through, Leeburg saw the full nakedness of his position and felt again the full force of panic. My God! he thought. He was out in front, facing a flat open terrain where they could swarm across at him and he had no escape. He was trapped, like a doomed man in his cell awaiting his execution.
The perspiration rolled off him. He wanted to get up and run for the cover of the woods. At least there they had some protection. Not in a muddy hole trying to stop a flood with a stick.
The immediate feeling of panic passed leaving the dull empty ache of fear. He stood in his trench, stark faced, eyes red rimmed from the lack of sleep and gripped his rifle with sweating hands. He wasn’t hungry even though he hadn’t eaten all night. His mouth was parched dry but he knew that if he took a drink it would pass straight through his bowels.
He felt grubby. His hands and clothes were covered with a yellow mud. The water had risen above the matting and their feet squelched in the mud. In a peaceful, beautiful valley, he was stuck in a filthy hole with a rifle to face what? Tanks? Shells? Or just other men? Standing waiting to kill or be killed. He was standing in hell.
The mist hung over the valley well into the morning and still they waited. Shortly before midday the orange glow became stronger and the mist started to rise. With every second more and more of the hills became visible.
It was the signal that the enemy had been waiting for. No sooner had the mist started to lift than a barrage of gun fire opened up, well to the right of their position. The German guns retaliated and the loud reports from the firing and explosions rent the air. Flashes of orange flames shot up from the trees as the shells exploded, and black clouds of smoke hung over the trees where once there had been mist.
Leeburg pulled his visor well over his face and buried it against the side of the trench as he crouched in the mud. Gradually the line of the enemy shells was creeping along the foothills, towards the head of the valley and the small village. The bursting shells came closer and the whine of their flight passed over their heads.
Leeburg prayed and perspired, and felt sick. For over half an hour the explosions shook the ground and filled the air with its black smoke. Twice a shell fell short into the foreground of the village. Into an area occupied by one of their companies. The village lay almost in ruins with flames and smoke pouring out of the buildings. Smoke was also coming from the trees on both sides of the valley.
When the barrage stopped, the silence was pregnant. Leeburg gave a sigh of relief and moved his limbs to loosen his joints. Then he saw them! Small brown objects. They poured out of the woods like an army of ants. Funny shaped objects like something from outer space.
Oh my God! he thought. Oh my God! His heart started to pound madly. There were thousands of them, thousands! His legs felt weak. My God! He wanted to be sick, his bowels felt loose, he wanted to get up and run.
Oh my God! he groaned. The perspiration ran off his back and became ice cold with fear. He was trapped. There was nowhere he could go. He had to stay and face the monsters.
He saw them spread out. They moved slowly, but were getting closer, and closer. Occasionally they would go to ground and he would wait with thumping heart until he saw them again. He glanced at Luker and saw his sullen face staring at the army of objects coming towards them. In all the time they had been together in their trench they had barely spoken a dozen words to each other.
‘God! There are thousands of them,’ Luker whispered hoarsely, not so much to Leeburg, but to himself.
Leeburg didn’t answer him. A sudden feeling of calmness had taken over from the panic. His body had stopped shaking, leaving him numb with exhaustion.
He saw the leading patrol was entering a field about two hundred metres to his front and again his heart started to thump away wildly. He gripped the rifle tightly and held his sights on the platoon. The end of the rifle seemed to bob up and down.
Steady! he said to himself. For God’s sake calm down. The leading enemy patrol had moved out of the maize and stopped alongside a hedgerow. They went to ground. Leeburg kept his eyes trained on them. They started to move again. Quicker this time. Towards him!<
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Again panic seized him. Will Merkel never open fire! For God’s sake fire! They were nearly on top of them. He could see their faces! They were grubby, tensed faces!
Crack! Lieutenant Merkel fired and a barrage of lead was unleashed. Like a man obsessed, Leeburg fired, and fired and fired. Fear and self-preservation drove him to fire almost wildly, anywhere in front of him. He saw two men fall to the ground, but it could have been from any of the section. The whole platoon were in the same mood. Fighting for their lives! Then suddenly there was no enemy to be seen. The Americans had gone to ground.
Brrr … brr … brr … brrr…
An enemy machine gun opened up. From the corner of his eye, Leeburg saw the ground around him being sprayed with bullets. Frantically he sank into the bottom of his trench, and buried his head against the side walls. Luker also dropped his head on to his knees as the bullets thudded all around them.
The machine gun went silent.
They would be moving forward, he thought. Towards him. He had to stand up and fire, but the machine gun might open up. It would have him in its sights. He would be riddled with bullets. The perspiration came to his brow. He was afraid to stand up. Terror gripped him. He saw Luker also kept his head down.
Brrrrrrrr … brrrrrrrr…
Their spandau fired from the high ground. Thank God! Leeburg thought. Thank God! The Americans retaliated and the two machine gun companies fought it out. Leeburg buried his head in his knees and hugged the bottom of his trench. A hail of lead was hurtling through the air above his head. A hail of instant death.
The American gun ceased firing, but the spandau continued for a few seconds longer, as if to show that they had won the duel. Further into the valley another spandau kept up the firing. An artillery battery joined the demonstration of fire power and the whole valley re-echoed with explosions. Leeburg’s section also started firing again. Leeburg moved himself. Very, very slowly, he edged his head above the ground. When nothing happened he became more confident. He brought his rifle into position and ran his eyes along the sights.
The Americans were pulling back. He saw them darting back along the edge of the field. Running from cover to cover. He fired two wild shots, content to let them get out of his immediate range. But the units in the south section of the valley kept up a constant barrage of fire and a smoke haze hung over the trees under the low lying clouds.
Leeburg sank back into his trench again. The respite would be only temporary, but it was a thankful rest. God! he could do with a cigarette, he thought. He felt weak and exhausted.
Then he saw that Luker had not moved. He was still crouched against the corner of their pit. Leeburg leant forward and put his hand gently on his shoulder. Luker’s body fell away from him and collapsed at his feet. Leeburg saw the mutilated face which had been caught in the stream of machine gun bullets. He quickly turned his back on him and fought off an immediate desire to vomit.
The dreaded rumbling of armour made him forget about Luker like an electric shock. He peered over the edge of the trench but saw only the distant greenery of the wooded slopes. There was no sign of the Americans in the valley. As if by magic they had all disappeared into the ground. Away to his right, where the valley broadened, there were streams of tracer bullets and machine gun fire, but no armour.
A sudden explosion to his rear sent him to the bottom of the trench again. Another explosion followed, and another, and another. He buried himself under Luker’s body. The shells were falling in the ground immediately below the village, where the other company was dug in. An American machine gun opened up and immediately their own spandau responded. More explosions rent the air, but from the opposite side of the valley.
He heard rifle fire coming from Corporal Garner’s position. He forced himself off the ground. All hell seemed to be let loose. He peered over the top, and saw a party of Americans about a hundred metres away from him scurrying across his front. Feverishly he fired, blasting away at the moving figures until they disappeared again behind a hedgerow.
Suddenly there was silence again, but it was only momentary. Heavy rifle and machine gun fire opened up at the head of the valley. Leeburg kept his head low. The exchange went on for about half an hour and then stopped. An eerie silence hung over the valley.
Leeburg glanced up at the sky. The clouds still hung low over the valley. So long as they remained there they were at least free from any air attacks, but he knew the enemy would try again. They had been probing their defences determining where to make their attack. He prayed to God that they would make it elsewhere.
For over two hours Leeburg waited. Not daring to relax, not capable of eating, his stomach churned up, his nerves strained. Waiting for a barrage of shells to be rained upon them. But it was about three kilometres to the south that the enemy selected for their assault. Where the valley changed direction and where there were orchards and plantations, for extra cover. His prayers had been answered.
Almost like a bystander he listened to the softening up barrage. And when that was over there was the constant thud, thud, of exploding mortar bombs, and the never ending firing of machine guns and rifles. As the afternoon passed the battle raged. A feeling of relief at being spared the heavy onslaught was tempered by an anxiety at the slow passing of time. He lived every second of that afternoon as if they were hours.
The battle for the valley was still raging as darkness crept over the mountains, but Leeburg knew they were saved. Immediately the curtain of darkness fell, Lieutenant Merkel gave orders for them to withdraw. Wearily the men picked themselves out of their holes and crept back towards the village, leaving behind their dead.
Leeburg collected his section together outside the ruined buildings and counted their losses. They had left behind six men. Five dead and one badly wounded. Amongst those killed was the youthful Siegel and the veteran Obrecht. Silently they prepared to move into their new company formation lines, leaving their part of the valley to the medicals and engineers.
As Leeburg passed the smouldering ruins of the farm building, he saw a small group of officers and men standing around a signal vehicle. Some part of his dulled brain told him that it would be part of their battalion H.Q. It also told him that Reitzer and Schroeder would be there, but it made little impact on him. He was mentally exhausted and physically spent.
All he wanted was to sit quietly in some part of the woods where he could unwind and prepare himself for the next onslaught. Because the following day it was all going to start again. And it would go on, and on, until he joined Luker, or the war was over. But self-preservation brings out many reserves, and Leeburg had a great desire to live.
As they passed the watching group of dark figures, without consciously being aware of Reitzer watching him, Leeburg gritted his teeth and made a solemn promise to himself that he would fight his own personal battle, and survive.
Major Reitzer watched the men of his battalion trudge back towards their lines in the woods. Beside him stood the lean, erect figure, of Lieutenant Schroeder. He stood once pace to Reitzer’s side and rear. Always correct, Reitzer thought. Schroeder never put a foot wrong. Reitzer admired him for that. He liked military perfection of any sort. That was why he felt pleased with himself as his men filed past him.
His men had carried out his orders precisely as he had intended. They had repulsed the enemy patrols, driven them off, and discouraged the enemy from making its major attack at the head of the valley. That was what Division had demanded of Colonel Von Lesting and that was what the Colonel had demanded from him.
Reitzer silently congratulated himself and gave a self-satisfied smile. He had never let the Colonel down since he had been given the command of the battalion at Cassino. It had been retreat, retreat, retreat, but it had been perfected with the type of copy book precision that the Colonel admired. And it was being noted.
The Colonel had hinted of possible promotion and the General had been extremely friendly the last time he had visited the lines. And Schroeder’
s letter to the party headquarters in Berlin would help. They had a lot of influence.
It had been a good move, Reitzer thought, to let Schroeder and Hauser, his driver batman, attach themselves to his battalion — a very good move. Schroeder had the right political connections, and Reitzer had impressed him with his power of command and tactical appreciation. And Reitzer had been careful to show that he also admired the Party. He wasn’t a member, but he was pleased to serve them as a soldier.
All things considered, Reitzer thought, he should get his own regiment before the end of the year. If it hadn’t been for that bullet in the leg, in Sicily, he would have had it by now.
In the darkness he scowled. It was important for him to get his own command. He was ambitious, and his ambitions didn’t stop just at a half colonel. That was just a stepping stone. His sights were cast very high. It never entered his head that the war might end before he achieved his ambitions. He had listened to Schroeder’s political lectures to his troops so often that he believed them himself. And it didn’t really matter if they were ultimately beaten, so long as he achieved his ambitions. Another two years and he would have real power. As for the future? Well, there would always be a place in Europe for a high ranking German officer. They were the power.
He saw Lieutenant Merkel pass by followed by his company. Leeburg would be amongst them, he thought. He had received Merkel’s sitrep report. He knew Leeburg was unharmed. But he would be a different man, Reitzer thought. He didn’t want Leeburg killed, but he wanted to change him. To make him into a hard fighting soldier. To make him appreciate that Reitzer was his superior at the greatest game open to man.
The Fallen Eagles Page 9