It turned out that they had a lot of medicine, a lot of blankets and a lot of food. Horst, the old man, had pleaded poverty to the soldiers but had secretly horded all their supplies for himself. He had rationed out their provisions with an iron fist, keeping the lion’s share for himself, leaving the leftovers for the women and children. Rohleder was surprised to find that even the old man’s wife wanted to stay.
They had money enough for the journey and now, with their new protector to lead the way, the women found a new desire to live. Only Stephanie seemed to get worse. The medicine was too little too late. They agreed to wait until she grew better but the cave was crowded and the threat of discovery bore down heavily on them all.
Horst had not left them to travel on his own but kept to himself at the back of the grotto, coming out only to eat and when it was his turn to fetch water. Otherwise they got on well with each other and the women’s acceptance of Rohleder encouraged his self-esteem and improved his confidence in the company of strangers. Suddenly he no longer dreaded going back to a life in civilisation. The idea of the curious stares and the whispered suspicion of his scars held no more fear for him. He realised he was looking forward to life after the war, regardless of what might come or who might win.
The days passed by and the weather improved. Life in the cave was almost pleasant. Stephanie’s fever swelled dangerously and broke. Two days later, a visibly improved Stephanie announced to the cave that she felt strong enough to move on. The relief was evident in all and a party atmosphere broke out among the inhabitants.
The women set to preparing food for the journey ahead and even Horst helped with the preparations. He knew that if the Red Army caught them, there would be no hope of salvaging what was left of his possessions. Horst had plans and those plans involved the goods he’d horded over the past months and the black market.
Rohleder had long ago given up wearing his SS tunic and wore cast-offs from one of the dead husbands of the women. He knew that if Ivan caught them, their chances would be slim, but if they were caught with him in uniform, their chances would be non-existent.
The plan was to drive along the main road westwards. If they were stopped, Rohleder would act the part of a shell-shocked invalid and the women and Horst would try to bluff their way through. Rohleder’s scars led weight to their story and their confidence in their alibi seemed to hinge solely on this fact.
The night before departure they all went to bed early. Rohleder was not as confident of their chances as the women were and he lay alone in the pitch darkness, worrying at the matter. His thoughts were interrupted by Stephanie as she cuddled up to him under the blanket. She had often held him in the night but this time he felt a charge in the air. Rohleder recognised the mood and hardly dared to hope it was what he thought it was.
Her hand moved slowly to his face and she traced the indentations of his scars lightly with her fingers. She kissed the rough skin on his neck and he moved position to accommodate her better. He hesitated and bent his head down to kiss her lips, dreading the rejection he knew would come but helpless against the force of his want. She kissed him back and the dormant passion that had simmered under the practicalities of their survival threatened to storm them both where they lay. She broke off and let her hand slide down onto his chest, "I wanted to thank you for what you’ve done for us, but don’t think this is gratitude. I want this because I want you.”
He opened his mouth to say something but she shushed him by putting a finger on his lips. "… and I want you because I need a good man, and that’s what you are Michael, you are a good man.”
Rohleder had never heard any woman talk like that before, especially not the no-nonsense woman now sharing his bed, and his initial shock evolved quickly into pleasure. He smiled down at her, "Let’s go outside.”
They silently gathered a blanket and left the cave to wander out into the balmy summer night. Despite the warmth, he felt a shiver of anticipation run up his spine and she caught it and chuckled. "What’s wrong? Scared of the dark?" she teased.
"Scared of wicked women more like." He liked her laugh, he decided. She should do it more often.
She took his hand in hers, whispering, "I know where we can go - over by the river.”
"But that’s miles away."
"Come on, it’ll be nice." She laughed like a child, carefree and excited, and he willingly followed her into the moonlit undergrowth.
He woke up to the dawn chorus with his own song in his heart. It was late, he realised, and he wondered why nobody had come looking for them. He sat up and looked around, Stephanie was still sleeping. She looked so young and composed in sleep and he felt a tenderness towards her that bulged in his chest.
"Hey sleepyhead, we’re late. Time to go back.”
She opened one eye and then the other. A smile came next and she stretched like a cat. "I could sleep forever. Let me sleep.” It occurred to Rohleder that he was sharing another side to Stephanie that she rarely let anybody see. Away from Paul, away from the responsibilities of being a mother, she let a trace of her younger self show through and he felt flattered by her trust.
Hand-in-hand they strolled back towards the cave. Stephanie chatted and laughed so much that he could hardly get a word in edgeways so he just listened, content in his new position in her affections.
"Do you want to hear something crazy?” he asked.
"What?" She stopped walking and turned to look at him.
"We’ve been on the march for what seems like ages. I’ve nursed you and loved you, and yet I still don’t know your second name.”
A cloud passed across her features, "Is it so important?”
"Important, no, but I am intrigued.” He laughed at her serious expression, "We haven’t even been introduced.”
He held his hand out in mock solemnity, "Rohleder, Michael Rohleder. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”
She didn’t look like she was going to take it until Michael said, "Are my advances to be spurned?”
She smiled and laughed, "Ok." She paused and said, "Stern, Stephanie Stern. Charmed, I’m sure.”
Rohleder blinked, "Stern? Are you Jewish?”
Her eyes held his, "Only you know, Michael. You can do as you please with me but I have told no other my real name.”
His face darkened and he broke away. "Are you mad? Do you know what this means?”
"No." She looked worried.
"I can’t believe this, it’s … ” Then he suddenly laughed. " … it means we have just broken the Nuremburg Race Laws of 1933. How am I meant to make a career in the SS with such a heinous crime on my record?”
Her face turned from fearful to laughing in the beat of a heart. "Oh you … ” she swiped at him, but he ducked away and turned to take her wrists,
"I don’t care if you’re Martian, Stephanie Stern,” they pulled together, "I just know that in my heart I feel as if I’ve found the right woman.”
She kissed him full on the lips and they stood like that for what seemed like an eternity Although it was in fact only a couple of minutes.
Ten minutes later, they rounded the last bend in the path and Rohleder instinctively knew that something was wrong. "Stop." He held up a finger for quiet. "What can you hear?”
"Nothing … ” she puzzled until understanding bloomed and horror darkened her face.
They were thirty yards from the campsite, thirty yards from their group of women and children, and yet there was not a sound to be heard. Rohleder was positive something had happened. He turned to Stephanie but it was too late,
"Paul!!” she screamed. Ignoring Rohleder’s warning she sprinted for the cave and was gone from sight.
"Shit," he muttered. Training and drill took over and he crouched down and moved into the bushes. He crept through the foliage adjacent to the path, checking for the enemy, booby traps or anything that would denote that there was someone here.
The horses were still tied up outside and they looked healthy enough, spooked but not hu
rt. He cursed that he’d left his weapons in the cave but everything became unimportant as Stephanie staggered out of the cave carrying her son. Her face petrified in a noiseless wail of grief, she stopped and laid the body of her child on the floor. Rohleder was shocked out of his trance by the unearthly howl of anguish that ripped from out of her lungs.
He walked up to her, all training and drill forgotten, and stood over her as she keened her pain over Paul’s small, inanimate corpse. It looked like a wild animal had gnawed his throat out and he idly wondered what size animal could do that to a human being. He looked away, mute in his shock, and went to the cave.
Inside was carnage in all its hideous forms. No mercy had been shown and Rohleder wondered at the inhumanity of the war that had driven men to such brutality. Every corpse had had its throat ripped out; every face had the scream of fear still chiselled into the features. The only thing that seemed out of place was the lack of blood. The scene was remarkably dry.
He listened in a daze to Stephanie as her grieving took on a distinctly hysterical edge and, laden with grief, concluded that he would have to go and help her with her son.
Chapter 36
"So we buried the boy and here we are.” He looked around.
"Was it Ivan?" Muschi asked.
"Who else would do it? The bloodsuckers were under strict orders not to touch the civvies?” Von Struck looked at Henning and turned to Rohleder, "Michael, there’s something you should know. Arak spoke to me last night.”
"And … ?”
"He told me I no longer have a command.”
"Those bastards," Henning muttered. "What do you want to do, Boss?”
"Kill the bastards, kill them all,” Rohleder answered for him, looking at nobody but speaking to all. "We’ll go in by daylight and burn them in their barracks. It’s gone too far now, Boss. We have to do what’s right.” He stared at Von Struck who looked around at their solemn, young faces. He closed his eyes briefly to think and made his decision. "We’ll kill them. Just like Michael said, we’ll go in when it’s light and burn them where they sleep. We’ll have to be thorough. We can’t afford to let one of them survive.”
"What about the Count?” It was Nau.
Von Struck looked at him and answered with a steely determination, "We’ll kill him too. Fuck Himmler, this has gone too far down the wrong track.”
"That’s what I wanted to hear," Muschi smiled. "Now we really are being the good guys.”
Nobody laughed. They mounted up and rode off to collect Stephanie. The ride back was strained. Every man in the squad dealt with his own thoughts. Von Struck thought back to his father and their last conversation. His father had been right about so many things and his abhorrence for the Third Reich showed Von Struck what a decent man he had been. How things had changed since then, how he had changed as well. The code that his father had talked about had been broken a million times over and his own personal road to hell was opening up before him. But he would make amends; he knew what had to be done.
It felt good now that the decision had been made to kill the Count. It would ruin him but the war would be over soon, he thought, so what the hell. He felt bad about bringing his friends into the mission but if he’d known the whole truth from the beginning, he didn’t think he would have taken it on, regardless of what Holaf or Himmler thought of him.
They rode hard by day but didn’t meet any Russians. It seemed as if God was paving the way for them and Muschi took it as a good omen. After four days, the castle came into view. Perched on the hill as it was, it looked to the men like a beacon of evil and their mood dipped once again.
"I hate that fucking place.” Nau whispered to Gruhn, "A torch is too good for it.”
"It would go a lot quicker if we had a flame thrower. What are we going to burn it with?”
Henning overheard them. "We’ll have to get inside and set the furniture alight.”
"I knew it wouldn’t be easy." Gruhn nodded to himself. "It never is.”
"Stop your whining. Anybody would think you want to live forever."
"Henning, you’re a sick … ”
"Right, let’s lay the plans down," Von Struck interrupted. "Henning, you take the lads to burn the barracks. Any interference from the Ukrainians, shoot them. Don’t mess about. We go in hard and fast, light the woodwork and get out. It’s tinderbox dry at the moment, so we shouldn’t have any problems. We’ll ride together to the Castle, from there you go on to the barracks. Emergency RV is here. Michael, you come with me. We’ll do the Castle. Tell Stephanie she has to wait here.”
"You tell her, she won’t listen to me.”
"What? She can’t come with us Michael, she’s not … ”
”They killed her boy. She’s been talking about this as if it’s her chance of revenge. She won’t listen to you either but you can try.”
Von Struck shook his head disbelievingly and then gave in. "Ok, she comes, but she’s your responsibility." Rohleder nodded.
The horses were skittish and hard to control, so they walked them the last kilometre, right up to the great double doors with the gruesome dragonheads. There wasn’t a soul to be seen, and despite the oppressive air, Von Struck felt relieved to be doing something positive. They gathered around for a final briefing. Von Struck opened his mouth to say something but was cut off by the sound of the great double doors opening.
All at once there was action. From both sides of the building came two long lines of SS. They lined up twenty meters either side of the squad, weapons at the ready. Rasch walked through the doorway and down the steps towards them. His face was tense and Von Struck noticed he’d developed a nervous tick in his right cheek.
"What’s going on, Rasch?”
"Markus, it seems as though some gentlemen from Berlin wish to talk to you and your men.”
"Who? I don’t see anybody.”
As he spoke, the two men in question stepped out of the building and walked towards them. One was smaller than the other but was definitely the man in control; as was made evident by Rasch’s angst-ridden face. Their long leather trench coats and wide-brimmed hats gave them away as police officers of some kind, but Von Struck was too baffled to think clearly.
"Standartenführer Von Struck?" asked the smaller of the two, putting on a pair of pince-nez as if to inspect him.
"Yes, what seems to be the problem?”
He pulled out an identity card and waved it before Von Struck’s face, "My name is Major Jens Schmidt of the Geheim Feld Polizei and this is Leutnant Meier.” He raised his arm in salute as if it was a part of the introduction. "Heil Hitler!”
Rasch bodily jumped at the volume of his tone. "What can I do for you, Herr Major?” His mind was racing. What the hell did the secret military police want with him?
"Herr Standartenführer, it is my sorry duty to inform you that your father has been arrested, tried and found guilty of treason. He is now at the Military Correctional Facility at Torgau where he awaits execution. You are to be transported to the SS penal complex at Dachau until it can be established beyond all doubt that your father did not corrupt you in any way. Your men are to go with you.”
Rohleder was the first to step forward, cock his weapon and point it at the policeman. The others followed suit. Schmidt didn’t flinch and calmly stared at Rohleder as he continued. "Any show of protest, insubordination or defiance will be noted for the court. Please hand your weapons over and fall in. The trucks are on their way to pick you up now.”
Von Struck signalled his men to stand back but they kept their weapons trained on Schmidt.
Von Struck was confused. "My father, a traitor? Impossible. He’s a war hero.”
"Herr Von Struck, your father was implicated as one of the plotters. He is guilty and has signed a confession as such.”
"The plotters? You’ll have to explain. We’ve been in the field … ”
"It’s very easy." Schmidt Interrupted. "Your father was one of the July Plotters. He helped in the attempted assassinat
ion of the Führer.”
As if on queue, the men let their weapons fall in disbelief. "Adolph is dead?" muttered Rohleder.
Henning shook his head, "The Führer, assassinated? What the hell has happened since we’ve been gone?”
"No, I said 'attempted'. He survived. The ringleaders have all been caught and tried. Your father, the General, is helping my colleagues in Torgau with a few more names. They have very robust methods and I don’t think he’ll be able to withhold the names we want him to give us for too long." The last was said more to his subordinate who laughed dutifully.
Von Struck reacted quicker than he thought. He landed a right punch flush on the Schmidt’s chin and he went down like a dropped anvil. "You can show a bit of respect, you insignificant little worm," he hissed, "My father is not a traitor and if he dies at Torgau, I’ll hold you personally responsible.”
The policeman rubbed his chin. "This is not helping your case, Herr Von Struck.”
"It’s Standartenführer Von Struck - a rank I earned in the field.”
"You may not have any rank at all if you insist on mutiny. Think carefully, Standartenführer. We could kill you all quite easily here or you come with us peacefully and let the military court decide what to do." He took a step closer to Von Struck and whispered in his ear. "You don’t have a chance, I’ll grant you that, but think of your men. They’ll end up in prison for a while and then they can all go home. Think of your men and your men’s families.”
"My father is not a traitor,” Von Struck insisted.
"That is not for me to decide." He stepped back and addressed the squad. "You men, put down your weapons. Standartenführer Von Struck has already agreed. You will all come with us to Dachau until they see that you are innocent, then you’ll all return to your units. No harm will come to you, I promise.”
The Division of the Damned Page 20