"And the other reasons for the number ten?”
Czerolka smiled reflectively. "The Ten Patriarchs is what we’re setting our hopes on. The Sodom and Gomorrah bit was a spur of the moment thing. Soldiers all know and laugh about that story and I thought it may make it more accessible to them. The main thing is that they believe that sordid tale and they unquestionably accept it as true. However, the tenth line of the Oratio Dominica was a stroke of genius, don’t you think? They will go to battle with that written on their hearts in fire.”
"I put more trust in them smirking over the sodomite cities than remembering the Lord’s Prayer.”
"So do I, actually, but we should pretend that they’re adults, you know," he smiled.
Michael was pouring out two pots of beer when Smith strolled in.
"Ah, the Dracyl” Czerolka observed unpleasantly. Smith gave him a wry smile and turned to Michael. "Rohleder is back. You should see what he’s brought.”
They followed him into the yard where Rohleder stood in the centre of the squad.
"Nice to see you back, Herr Rottenführer. Did all go to plan?”
Inselman answered for him, "Take a look, Brother.” and with a flourish he whipped off the tarpaulin that covered the back of the lorry. Inside was crate after crate, stacked one on top of the other..
"Is that all ammunition, Inselman?" he gasped.
"Allow me, Heinz.” Rohleder stepped forward offering his MP38 to Michael. "Herr Oberstgruppenführer, this is Helga, my faithful lover and companion since the early days of this God-forsaken war. You can have her. I don’t need her anymore for I have found another.”
Michael took the weapon and, looking puzzled, he slung it over his shoulder. Rohleder walked to the driver’s cab and pulled something long out of it. "Herr von der Heyde, if I may introduce you to my newest flame, meet Gertrude," he said, holding a brand new rifle like a baby. "Isn’t she a beauty?" he beamed.
Michael took the weapon in. It was longer than a machine pistol but shorter than a rifle. It had the same lines as a rifle but a large, curved magazine hung below. The barrel ended in an iron sight and the butt was wooden. "I give up, what is it?" he smiled.
"This, comrades," Rohleder theatrically turned to the squad, "this is the StG44, the new Sturmgewehr that seems to be all the rage along the Eastern front.” He pulled it to his shoulder and pretended to fire a shot off. "7.92 calibre, 500 rounds a minute and effective up to 300 meters.” The squad whistled in appreciation but Rohleder recited his tutorial as if they were not there. "Not as far as a rifle but further than a machine gun, and it’s the same rate of fire as a machine gun. So it’s a veritable assault rifle in the truest form of the word. It has a gas operated firing mechanism, so there's loads of cleaning after an automatic blast, I’m afraid. It has a wooden butt like a rifle, and because our weapons don’t have the folding stock, we get bayonet attachments on it too. The magazine holds thirty rounds and, at the front, it has a fitting for a small periscope sighting device for shooting around corners. I’ve also got a camera to get it all down on film for posterity.”
"Now the pederast wants to turn us into photo models," Henning groaned loudly,
"When do we get to test fire it, Herr Oberstgruppenführer?” Nau asked excitedly.
Rohleder butted in, "When I’ve finished the lesson, SS Oberschütze Nau, so pay attention. I’ve got a great story about this gun.” Michael winked good naturedly at Nau who smiled ruefully back at him. "Apparently, so I’ve been reliably informed, Old Adolph didn’t want to adopt this weapon at all and called for the project to be stopped. He didn’t like the idea of a new sort of weapon with new ammunition being introduced to the field. Luckily for us, a couple of the bigwigs with a bit of backbone realised what potential this design had and secretly gave the go-ahead for its production and distribution. This only came to light when Adolph was holding a meeting of his top generals and he asked them what they needed to win in the East. One of them said straight away that he wanted more of these new weapons, and that let the cat out of the bag.”
"So what happened to the bosses who secretly gave the go-ahead?" Smith asked.
"They were chopped up into firewood and used to cook Old Adolph’s milk soup.”
Smith looked aghast.
"How should I know, Tommy? Was I there? I don’t even know if the story is true. It’s probably all lies but who cares, it’s a good story, isn’t it?”
"Not with an ending like that, it isn’t" Smith laughed.
"Rottenführer Rohleder?”
"Yes, Brother Michael,” he shot back farcically.
A hint of a smile flitted across his face before he spoke. "The ammunition - was your contact able to adapt the silver to make the bullets we require?”
Inselman jumped down holding a cartridge for all to see. The casing was brass as normal but the bullet itself, the part that would leave the barrel, was silver.
"As you can see, he managed the order to our requirements. I personally have tested a couple of magazines on their firing range and there is no difference to a normal round; and why should there be? It’s only the head itself that is different.”
"Right, Herr Rottenführer," Michael nodded, "If you would issue the weapons, we can clean them ready for firing and go down to the range. Do we have normal rounds to practice with? It seems such a shame to use all our silverware up.”
"Yes, we have normal rounds to practice with.”
"Right, well dish them out and show us how to strip and assemble them for cleaning.”
They broke the crates and sorted the weapons out from the ammunition. Rohleder took the class on stripping and assembling and preparing their weapons for firing. It took a long time until all were satisfied with their preparations but finally they were ready.
"Standartenführer, would you accompany the men to the range?” Michael asked. "I have to arrange that our horses will be delivered to us.”
Von Struck nodded and they shambled out of the yard towards the range.
Chapter 50
A Forest Somewhere in Romania
Junior lieutenant Olaf Borkin strode past the gathered troops. "Make way there, make way. What are you all looking at? It’s only a woman:”
Senior Sergeant Leon Saprinskii called the men to attention to give his report. "Comrade Lieutenant, we have successfully apprehended two German spies. The woman is unconscious but the man,” he indicated Reuben with his head, "will now go through a thorough interrogation, with your permission comrade.”
Borkin took in the eager faces of his troop. He had only been a troop leader for two weeks and he knew his authority over the men lay with the tolerance of the Senior Sergeant in front of him.
"How do you know they’re spies, Senior Sergeant?" he asked as impartially as he could. If it was perceived that he was questioning Saprinskii’s rationalization he would be seen in a bad light with the men. The Senior Sergeant held an almost cult-like position within the regiment due to his prolonged survival at the front. He had served in the Red Army in 1939 and had taken part in the first advance into Poland, the siege of Leningrad and now the big push through the Balkans. If there was one thing Borkin didn’t need it was to be the target of Saprinskii’s disapproval.
Saprinskii smiled knowingly, a smile that Borkin had come to hate over the past two weeks, and playing to the troops he answered, "Well, Comrade Lieutenant, that’s why we’re going to interrogate them, to see if they really are spies.”
"And how do you wish to do that, Senior Sergeant Saprinskii. Do you speak German?” He knew Saprinskii did not. He also knew that nobody else in the platoon did except for him.
Saprinskii shrugged. "No, so we’ll torture them until they speak Russian to us." He smiled at Borkin and turned to the men. "Start up the fires. A good fire always makes them talk.”
Borkin was too shocked to react as the men all turned away and started to gather wood. Borkin felt miserable. How could he show his leadership over men who treated him like a joke? It w
as a Herculean task that he suspected would only be lightened by the chance of combat with the enemy. If he could somehow show his mettle against the Fascists, they would listen to him, he was sure. Unfortunately, up to now, all they'd seen of the enemy were cold campfires and the dismembered bodies of their comrades.
"Does anybody speak German here?"
It was Reuben and Borkin’s ears pricked up.
"Yes, I do. Who are you and what are you doing here?”
"My name is Reuben Stein and the girl on the floor is Stephanie Stern. We’ve escaped from a German camp and we were looking for you, for the Red Army.”
Borkin stayed impassive but he was excited. Soviet soldiers had already liberated a major camp in July at a place called Majdanek. The discovery of another German atrocity camp would surely make his career. "What sort of camp was it?”
"If only you knew. It was hell, a hell on earth. I lost my friend and … ” He broke off as the telling of the loss of Mordechai faltered in his throat.
Borkin felt his excitement fall as his pity rose. He turned to see if anybody was listening and was surprised to find the whole squad was looking at them.
"What does he say, Comrade Lieutenant?" one of the privates asked.
"He say’s they’ve escaped from one of the atrocity camps the Germans use.”
The change in attitude was instantaneous and the whole group dropped what they were doing and gathered in to hear. Saprinskii pushed to the front and stood to the side of Borkin and Reuben to get a ring side view. "Ask him where it is,” he demanded.
"Untie him and get this ridiculous noose off his neck," Borkin ordered. Then, to Reuben, "Tell us everything, we need to know everything.”
Two hours later they were on their way to the headquarters. Stephanie had come out of her faint and, much to Saprinskii’s anger, had been told to get in the lorry with them.
"But, Comrade Lieutenant, why can’t you just take the Jew and leave the girl with us, if only to safeguard against a trick? They might well be German spies, Comrade.”
"I’ll take that chance, Senior Sergeant. Tell the men to make camp here for the time being. Set a guard rota, and no fires or vodka. I don’t know how long I’ll be, so I leave them in your capable hands.”
"Yes, Comrade" Saprinskii bristled.
Borkin hadn’t really believed everything about the vampires and the Count. However, any special unit that was operating in their area, or along their axis of advance, was important intelligence and he thought it better to let the higher-ups decide what to do. Also he needed to report this camp before anybody else did.
He commandeered a lorry and a driver and it felt good to be away from the troop for a while, to be away from the constant struggle for control of the men’s loyalties.
Headquarters was a farm, or the remains of a farm, on the outskirts of the wood. They were told to wait until the General had time, and after a dreadfully torpid hour-long delay, they were finally ushered in.
The General sat behind what was once a kitchen table, immersed in paperwork. He was a large man, head shaved, with large bushy eyebrows. He briefly looked up when they entered, and after eyeing Stephanie up and down, he grunted something that was unintelligible to Reuben. A large map hung on the wall behind him and a framed picture of Stalin hung next to it.
Behind the General was a small, immaculately dressed man of indeterminate age. His uniform was pressed to perfection but bulging at the buttons, and his peaked cap sat above a large flabby face. He wore small round glasses that pressed into the side of his head and his pointy chin jutted out from his jowls like a knife pushed through butter. His eyes never left the three of them.
"So, what’s the problem, Lieutenant?" the General finally addressed Borkin.
The small man behind the General coughed and the General heaved a sigh irritably. "Comrade Lieutenant,” he added.
Borkin, who was glad to note that the General was not a politically orientated officer, told him most of what he knew. He had wanted to leave out the vampires but his conscience had pricked him hard and he had added it at the end as a bizarre after-note.
"Right, Comrade, you did well to bring this to my attention. I don’t know if you’ve heard but our men in Poland have discovered another such camp in a place called Majadank, I believe … ”
The small officer behind him spoke for the first time, "Majdanek, I believe, Comrade General.” He took a step forward and leaned back to sit on the table. In German he spoke to Reuben. "Tell me about the vampires, Jew.”
Reuben was momentarily taken aback but swung into the same description he had given Borkin and his men. All the while the little man sat like a patient bullfrog and listened. The General soon lost interest and after a while went back to his paperwork.
"So the Fascists have left the camp, you say?” he asked when Reuben had finished.
"I, well we, thought so at the time. We didn’t see any when we left.”
"Do you think this Bourgeois Count is annoyed at the Fascists?”
Reuben looked puzzled.
"What I am trying to ask here is would the Count be agreeable to a change of sides. Would he fight with us against the Fascists?”
"I don’t know. I think the Count has his own goals. I don’t think he has been working for the Germans to please the Third Reich. It was more of a quid pro quo situation.”
The little man nodded for him to elaborate.
"Well, we were working on a serum so that the vampires could survive during the day and I think that’s the only reason the Count was fighting on the German, I mean Fascist side … ”
Suddenly the little man became animated. "I see, I see. So he has no ideological affiliation to the Fascists. This is good, this is very good.”
The General looked up briefly from his paperwork and asked what he had in mind.
"Well, as I see it, the Count has no real loyalty to the Third Reich. I think that if we send a delegation to negotiate a deal with the Count and his vampires, perhaps they’ll come and fight for us. Think of the terror that will cause if the Fascists find out we have their vampires fighting on our side.”
"And who are we going to send to formulate this delicate piece of negotiation? I can’t spare any senior staff at the moment owing to the next phase of our push.”
The little man whirled around and banged his fist on the table, "I will go. I’ll negotiate with the Count and bring him onto the side of the Motherland." He looked at Reuben, Borkin and Stephanie. "Show me on the map where it is.”
The General theatrically sighed again and decided to ignore them.
Reuben went over to look, but after much searching, he couldn’t find it.
"Could you find it if you were given horses or a lorry?”
"I don’t know. It was a long way away and we didn’t really follow any set route … ”
But the small man had made up his mind. "You three will come with me. We’ll go by day with a small force and we’ll promise them what they need.”
Reuben opened his mouth to protest but Stephanie beat him to it. "No. I will not go back to those monsters. You cannot make me and I will not go. I’d sooner be shot, right here and now, than go back:”
The small man’s face took a distinctly dangerous twist and he leaned forward to speak to Stephanie "That could so easily be arranged, German. I could have had you shot as a spy when you first came here but I chose to listen to your side of the story before I made any decisions. You both say you are willing to help our struggle against the Fascists, so here is your chance to prove it." He looked at his watch. It was early evening. "We leave at 0600 hours. Hopefully we’ll be in their area before nightfall, then we have the whole of the next day to find them and to strike a deal." He looked up at Borkin, "Comrade Lieutenant, they are in your custody until this mission is at an end. If they escape, you will pay with your head, literally.”
The Division of the Damned Page 27