Devils with Wings

by Harvey Black

  A good night’s sleep and they would then be briefed the following morning on the purpose behind their stay at the salubrious, Luftwaffe hotel.

  It was eight a.m., on a cold winter’s morning and Paul and his Platoon, along with other soldiers, pilots and civilian staff were assembled in one of the wooden training huts in the Hildesheim Army camp.

  Situated in the foothills of the Harz Mountains, it attracted the cold weather like a magnet. The temperature was barely reaching two degrees during the day and dropped to well below freezing point during the night.

  The black, wood-burning stove, dominating the centre of the room, gave out just enough heat to make the temperature in the hut comfortable, although those at the extremities of the building often felt a slight chill.

  The surrounding area was used by the German Army for training and manoeuvres and was well suited to the type of training the Assault Force would need to facilitate.

  The training hut, barely lit by the four, low watt bulbs suspended from its low ceiling, slowly filled up until just under five hundred officers, men and pilots were in attendance.

  Paul and his Platoon felt quite inconspicuous in the mass that was assembled there.

  There was a buzz of sound as some paratroopers were reacquainted with old friends or colleagues and swapped stories catching up on old news. There was also, naturally, a good deal of discussion about the purpose behind such an assembly of soldiers and airmen.

  The door at the far end of the hut opened again, letting in, briefly, a cold blast of air, making the stove flicker as a result of the draught caused.

  In walked Hauptman Kaufmann, followed by Oberleutnant Faust and Leutnant Krause, who made their way through the assembly to a small raised platform at the far end of the hut.

  The three of them mounted the platform and stood behind the chairs and small table that had been placed there for their use.

  “Gentlemen,” boomed Kaufmann’s voice. “Please find yourselves a seat, or at least somewhere to perch for the next twenty minutes.”

  The assembled men found what seats or benches they could, or sat on tables or desks, or even just propped themselves up against the hut’s wooden wall. Although most tried to get as close as possible to the only source of heat in the hut.

  Once they had all settled down, Kaufmann continued.

  “I’m sure you are all keen to know why you’ve been brought here,” he resumed, loud enough for all to hear, “to this dismal place, and plucked away from your parent units.”

  Hauptman Kaufmann, was a tall handsome officer, born in Bonn, Germany in nineteen ten. In nineteen thirty eight, he was promoted to Hauptman and actually trained as a pilot, but was quickly brought back to his unit to form Sturmabteilung Kaufmann, which consisted of the individuals now sat listening to him.

  “I’m afraid I can’t reveal all to you just yet, but I can tell you the basics, and that we are to train for a number of key operations to be conducted sometime in the future. This group of soldiers and airman, the training that you’ll be conducting, is highly secret. You have all signed the secrecy pledge. Be in no doubt gentlemen, if the purpose of our group and its activities was to get out, it would not only jeopardise our country’s interests, but could put our future operations, and our lives, at risk.”

  He looked around the room, attempting to make eye contact with as many soldiers and pilots in the room as possible, to emphasise his point.

  “Any breach, by any of you in this room, will have dire consequences for that individual or individuals, one of those consequences being the firing squad.”

  He remained quiet for a few seconds; giving people a chance to let what he had just told them sink in.

  “Right, enough of that, now to the purpose of our mission. We have to secure four targets; the targets will not be revealed to you at this stage. In order to secure those targets I will be forming four groups. Sturmgruppe Beton, will be commanded by myself. Sturmgruppe Stahl will be commanded by Oberleutnant Adler, his second in command being Leutnant Fleck.”

  Paul looked at Max, and like Paul, Max’s look was one of disbelief. Erich too had been dragged into this escapade. He would try and see his friend as soon as the meeting was concluded.

  Kaufmann continued, “Sturmgruppe Eisen, will be commanded by Leutnant Schiffer with Leutnant Janke as his number two.”

  Again, Max and Paul looked at each other in amazement. Elements of the first company they thought they had left behind in Poland must be in the room with them somewhere.

  Paul and Max started to look around the crowded room and at once started to pick out troopers that looked vaguely familiar as being from second and third Platoon, comrades who had fought alongside them in Poland.

  “And finally,” Kaufmann was still speaking, “Sturmgruppe Granite, commanded by Oberleutnant Faust with Leutnant Brand as his second in command.”

  Now it was Max’s turn to stare at Paul in astonishment, and he was sure that in this tightly packed room, Leutnant’s Fleck and Janke would be experiencing the same level of incredulity.

  “I know you will have lots of burning questions, but please hold them back for the moment. Once this meeting has broken up, your respective Group Commanders will brief you. Thank you gentlemen, we will see each other frequently over the next few months.”

  The trio gave instructions as to where the particular groups were to meet their respective Commanders and then left the stage and exited from the training hut.

  The soldiers and airmen in the hut slowly moved towards the single exit point, making their way to their next meeting place. Paul’s group, were to go to a hut similar to this one, but towards the end of the camp.

  Before they left, Paul and Max frantically searched for their comrades.

  Paul spotted Erich first; he looked less skinny than the last time they had been together, clearly back on decent rations was doing him good. Paul clawed his way through the throng, grabbing Erich’s right hand, shaking it hard and gripping his shoulder with his left.

  “God, it is good to see you Erich!” exclaimed Paul

  Erich grabbed Paul’s shoulder and the fallout they recently had was completely forgotten. Both were ecstatic at once again being together, although it was to be short lived.

  “It’s great to see you Paul, you too Unterfeldwebel.”

  He also shook Max’s hand, genuinely pleased to see the stocky sergeant also.

  Paul suddenly shot forward as a huge hand clapped him on the back, making him lose his balance. It could be only one person who would consider greeting Paul in this way, and Paul turned to see Helmut, with a beaming grin across his face.

  “One day,” said Paul, “you’re going to do that to the wrong person you know.”

  But it was said without malice, it was just Helmut’s way, larger than life.

  He also shook Paul’s and Max’s hand, then threw his arms around Paul, giving a huge bear hug.

  “Has he been behaving himself Unterfeldwebel?” questioned Helmut.

  “I couldn’t possibly say sir,” responded the diplomatic Max.

  “If you officers will excuse me, I’d like to track down some real soldiers,” and Max went off in search of the other Platoon Felds to catch up on the news.

  The three looked at each other, a trio that had gone through training together; through their first combat experience together and here they were again.

  “So Paul,” interjected Erich, “are you airfield construction, experimental tactics or toilet cleaning?”

  All three laughed.

  There was a moment of silence as all three stood in a circle; hands placed on each other’s shoulders, genuinely pleased to be together again.

  All of a sudden they felt embarrassed at this show of affection and after a few awkward coughs they let their arms drop to their sides and Paul asked.

  “So, what happened after I left?” Curious as to what happened when he departed Poland.

  Helmut answered first, “Well, the very next day I
was dragged in to the Raven’s HQ.”

  “Battalion HQ now, you know he’s been promoted Adjutant don’t you Paul,” butted in Erich.

  “Who’s telling this story?” rebutted Helmet.

  “Yes I do know,” replied Paul, “that will shake the Battalion up.”

  “He’ll be Battalion Commander before you know it,” added Erich.

  “Hauptman Volkman, scary isn’t it.”

  “Anyway,” continued Helmut, looking perturbed at the interruptions, “I was called in to the Adjutant’s office and was told by the Raven we’d been selected for special duties.”

  “Yeah, latrine digging,” laughed Paul

  “My first thoughts exactly,” replied Helmut, “knowing the Raven’s sense of humour.”

  “Get on with it,” said Erich impatiently; noticing that the hut was slowly emptying and they would have to follow the others to their next briefing.

  “Ok, ok, I just want to get all of the facts right.”

  “Get on with it,” supported Paul, punching him softly on the shoulder.

  “He said my platoon was being sent to Hildesheim, for duties unknown. We had to discard our badges of rank and put on this bog standard Luftwaffe uniform, you know the rest.”

  “And you Erich?”

  “Same as Helmut, the day after you’d gone, I got the same speech and here I am.”

  “I’m just happy that we’re all together again.”

  “Hopefully, we’ll be involved in something together, replied Erich”

  “Sir,” resonated Max’s voice, “we need to get a shift on.”

  “You scared the shit out of me then Max!” complained Helmut jokingly, “you’re like a bloody panther creeping up, and then you open your mouth and scare the bloody living daylights out of everyone.”

  “Sorry sir, I didn’t realise you were still of a delicate disposition.”

  Only Max could get away with it, being the most experienced soldier in the Company. He was highly respected by the three young officers.

  “Right, come on then Max, before you get yourself court marshalled for your insubordination.”

  He turned back towards his friends, “I don’t know what happens next, but best of luck to you two. We will try and get together sometime soon, yes?”

  They all agreed and started to move towards the exit door, the hut emptying at a faster rate now and the three officers were some of the last to leave.

  Paul and Max also left for their next meeting, joining the platoon that had been waiting for them outside. The other two platoons were also there, it was almost like a big family reunion.

  The group broke up, comrades promising to keep in touch and Paul’s platoon walked down the tarmac road to their destination, hut twelve.

  The hut was the same size and configuration as the training one, along with the wood-burning stove.

  By the time Paul’s platoon had entered, along with the engineers already there, there numbered fewer than one hundred people. The layout was similar; desks, tables and chairs strewn around the room, which they quickly organised at one end of the hut. On this occasion there was much more room available, as they were just a fifth of the numbers attending the initial briefing.

  They made themselves comfortable; taking advantage of the tea and coffee that had been laid on for them. Biscuits too. Paul could imagine Helmut’s delight and so smiled to himself.

  Max saw him smiling and smiled back, glad to see his Platoon officer back on form again. He knew that Paul had been troubled by their departure from Poland, and suspected that all was not well between him and his two friends. But all was tranquil again. He threw some more logs on the fire, the sizzling and spitting clearly heard as the wet logs impacted with the hot core, and settled back to wait patiently for the next briefing. One thing he had learned during his time in the Luftwaffe, patience was obligatory.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  The door to the hut opened, and Oberfeldwebel Kanitz, the company senior sergeant, brought the room to attention as Oberleutnant Faust made his entrance.

  “At ease gentlemen, from this moment on we dispense with the usual military ceremony. We have to work closely as a team, so we will curtail the usual military protocol.”

  He made his way over to where Paul was stood and reached out his hand to shake Paul’s, who returned the gesture.

  “Leutnant Brand, I get to meet you at last, you are gaining quite a reputation for yourself.”

  Oberleutnant Rudolph Faust was born in Gelsenkirchen in nineteen sixteen. At the youthful age of nineteen, he began his military career as an officer cadet in the army’s pioneer Battalion 16. He remained with the engineers for only 10 months before he was enticed into the new voluntary service, the paratroops, the Fallschirmjager. By this time he was commissioned as a Leutnant.

  He was promoted to Oberleutnant in nineteen thirty nine, and here he was now in command of the pioneer Platoon and Paul’s Platoon, that now formed assault group granite.

  “Thank you sir, your reputation precedes you also,” he reciprocated.

  “I shall give a general briefing to the men now, then you and I and the senior NCOs can go through some of the elements in more detail before opening it up to the group.”

  “That makes sense sir,” agreed Paul

  “Right, let’s make a start then.”

  Faust made his way to an area of the hut that had been set up with a six foot table, a map board and an easel. There were also various blank notice boards attached to the walls close by.

  “We have been allocated an extremely difficult mission,” he began, “and we have a little over five months to prepare for it. So, be prepared for the long haul,” he said looking around at the expectant faces of the group.

  “Our task is to assault a major facility, which unfortunately, I cannot divulge to you at this time. I can’t even tell you where it is, what it is, or, show you any pictures, for the moment anyway.”

  The group members looked at each other, probably all thinking the same, how do we prepare to attack a target we know nothing about?

  “I will again reiterate Hauptman Kaufmann’s security brief. Who we are, what we are doing here and the purpose of our long-term goal must be treated with utmost secrecy. To the extent that no one will be allowed to leave the barracks unless specifically authorised and there will be no mail or phone calls, in or out. Do I make myself clear?”

  The assembled men all nodded their heads and murmured their agreement; military secrecy was not new to them.

  “We will assault this target from the air, not by parachute gentlemen, but by glider. It is my intention that we put the assault force directly on top of the target.”

  He waited a few moments for it to sink in, the fact that they would be landing by glider, something none of them had done before, and to allow the murmuring to die down.

  Max turned to look at Paul, “So, those papier-mâché gliders are not for dropping supplies after all, they are for dropping us.”

  “So it would seem Max, so it would seem,” replied Paul calmly, becoming more and more intrigued by this operation and the innovative approach that was being taken. His interest was soundly peaked; they were not going to help construct airfields after all, although deep down he never believed that that would be the case.

  “We have nine specific targets to assault, secure and destroy, by landing on them directly. The group will be spilt accordingly, but I shall cover that in more detail at a later date.”

  Faust turned to the easel behind him and pinned up a picture of the DFS Glider.

  “This will be our taxi,” he said, pointing to the glider. “It can carry ten men, with their equipment, or over a thousand kilograms in weight. We will need to get used to it. Sitting in it, getting in and out of it, securing any equipment or explosives we’ll need to take with us. We will also need to train extensively in the use of explosives.”

  Faust made eye contact with the engineers that he had brought with him from his engineer pla
toon.

  “I’m sure the sappers amongst us will be more than willing to demonstrate their skills at blowing things up,” he said smiling. “You will practice with explosives until it becomes second nature to you. As we won’t initially, have any plans of the target, for security reasons, we’ll have to recreate a pseudo target, on the ground, that match the dimensions of the actual objective. We’ve been allocated a section of the training area, specifically for our use. We also have this hut as our base and our Company headquarters. Most of our internal training will be completed here. Tomorrow we start work, gentlemen.”

  This was clearly a big undertaking, thought Paul, it was going to require all of their skills, wits and stamina, and would undoubtedly test them to the limit.

  Paul looked at the Oberleutnant, whom he knew by reputation to be a strict disciplinarian and a meticulous planner, so Paul had no doubt that the months ahead would be tough and the pressure would truly be on.

  Faust also believed in realistic training, so the training would be intense and not without risk. Like Paul, Faust held his men and NCOs in high regard and gave them the opportunity to contribute to the planning and enable them to help mould the plan specific to their element of the operation.

  “Right, I have talked enough I think, are there any questions?”

  Paul was the first to ask a question, probably a question that was on the minds of most of the soldiers and pilots there.

  “Oberleutnant, are you able to tell us about the bigger picture, what will the impact of our operation have on the wider context? Besides us, what are the three other groups tasked with?”

  “They are valid questions Leutnant Brand, but I’m afraid, for the moment, the answers to both questions will have to remain unanswered. We have explicit instructions, as regards the dissemination of information, to work on a need to know basis. The Fuhrer himself has instructed all military units to operate on that basis, regardless of what activity they are involved in, but particularly where sensitive information is concerned.”

  Paul had known the answer even before he had asked it, but the question had to be posed, so that all present knew where the information line was drawn.