Devils with Wings

by Harvey Black

  They knew that the Unterfeldwebel would give no quarter in getting his team ready for the task ahead, but equally he would ensure that the entire platoon was pushed hard and were at their peak and well able to carry out what was being asked of them. They all knew that this tough NCO’s leadership and military skills would enhance their chances of success, and survival.

  Saying that, the other Troop Commanders would be equally persistent in bringing their teams up to speed for the forthcoming action.

  “Now you know your troop line-up,” announced Paul, “I’ll take you through your targets. It will only be at a high level at this stage, but as we build up our intelligence on the target we will add to our knowledge.”

  “Troop one, Uffz Leeb, will have a Cupola to secure and destroy, which has two seventy five millimetre guns, and there will no doubt be a machine gun post providing cover as well.”

  “Troop two, my troop, has to secure and destroy a casemate, which is believed to contain three, seventy five millimetre guns. Again, there will no doubt be supplementary cover. Following this, we have another bunker to tackle, with machine guns that give them two hundred and ninety degree cover.”

  “Troop three, Uffz Fischer, your target is an anti-aircraft position. Taking that out is crucial to the safety of the gliders that will be following us in. But, you haven’t got off that lightly,” continued Paul smiling, “I know you like a challenge, so you have a secondary objective, another Cupola, which holds two, one hundred and twenty millimetre guns.”

  “And last but not least, Unterfeldwebel Grun. Your target is another casemate; this one also has three, seventy-five millimetre artillery pieces, and again probably defended by other emplacements.”

  “We will all have additional targets that we’ll need to be familiar with, in case a glider fails to arrive, or the troop it was tagged for fails for some other reason.”

  They all knew what the other reason was, either failure through incompetence, or death.

  “Once we have successfully destroyed or secured our targets, we will have other tasks to complete. But, these will be done as a consolidated unit; the four troops will then effectively operate as one.”

  Paul put his hand up in the air, palm facing outwards, as he’d noticed that the platoon, quite naturally, was on the verge of bombarding him with questions.

  “I know you have a lot of questions and queries floating around in your heads, but at the moment the information I have and the information that I can release to you is minimal. If I were to speculate, or provide you with inaccurate information, it could be detrimental to the operation.”

  “How are we to train then sir, if we don’t know what we’re training for?” challenged Leeb, always the most outspoken of the Uffzs, but also the strongest leader and a likely replacement for Max one day.

  “Shall I take this one sir?” asked Max, recognising that his Platoon leader was being put in a difficult position. He had a duty to his men, to provide them with the best information and tactical solution for their upcoming mission, but equally he had an obligation to keep the main target confidential, to preserve any leaks from getting out and potentially jeopardising the sortie.

  Max continued before Paul could respond, “As Hauptman Kaufmann and Oberleutnant Faust have alluded to, we will mark out the representative dimensions of the target on the training area allocated to us. This will enable us to practice our orientation and movement to and from our glider landing points and our respective targets. We can get a better understanding of speed and the difficulties we might come across carrying the equipment we will have taken with us.”

  “But,” interrupted Leeb again, but he wasn’t allowed to finish.

  “Uffz Leeb, you are not listening to what you’re being told,” interjected Max abruptly. “We have to do the best we can until the necessary intelligence is made available to us.”

  Leeb remained quiet, his frustration clear, but he knew better than to cross the line with his Platoon Sergeant.

  Both Paul and Max empathised with him, but were unable to impart any more information.

  Paul joined in, “I understand your frustration Leeb, as I do for all of you. But, it is what we have been dealt with. We have five months to prepare, in the meantime more and more information or intelligence will be released to us as and when it becomes available.”

  “So,” continued Max, “let’s focus on getting to understand the scale and dimensions of our target as a whole, become conversant with the gliders, your first flight being in about two weeks. Familiarise ourselves with the explosives and other equipment we will need and build up our fitness.”

  Paul took over again, “We’ll be creating a sand model in the hut here, building up a photo’s board as they become available and improving our knowledge of the targets.”

  The duo continued to pacify the platoon and conveyed as much information as they were able, with Max taking a turn again.

  “We shall be visiting and examining various complexes that are not dissimilar to our target, so you will acquire some experience, to touch and feel, and appreciate its scale.”

  Paul finished off by closing the meeting, “The rest of the day, our four troops will be given explosives instruction by our sappers and by the end of the day there will be a rough schedule of the training plan on the board in here.”

  “Dismissed, thank you Unterfeldwebel.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  The first month at the Hildesheim camp was spent on building up their level of fitness. Although relatively fit before they arrived at the camp, it was not at a level that was acceptable to Hauptman Kaufmann or Oberleutnant Faust. Or, for that matter, Leutnant Brand, who recognised not only the importance of the target, but also their need to be ready for it.

  They wanted Group Granite to be honed to a fine pitch, the same for the other groups, not wanting a lack of fitness to hinder any aspect of the operations.

  This had meant long runs, carrying increasingly heavier weights, almost reminiscent of their recruitment days at the training camp in Stendal.

  But, today was the day they were going to familiarise themselves with the glider, something none of them had ever seen close up before. They had seen the pilots completing training flights in them, and had seen them scattered about the camp, but to date they had not been given the opportunity to touch one or even get close to one.

  The DFS-230, known as a freight-carrying glider, was now being inaugurated into the Fallschirmjager’s arsenal as a means of carrying them into battle.

  Max looked at the twelve metre glider with horror and turned to Paul and whispered.

  “Sir, they can’t possibly be serious about us flying in that thing, surely?”

  “It looks like it is a distinct possibility Max, just look at those luxurious seats.”

  At that moment Oberleutnant Faust joined them.

  “Right gather round.”

  The paratroopers gathered around to listen to the Commander of Group Granite.

  “This is the DFS-230 glider and for this simple operation that we have dreamt up for you, this is going to be your taxi. No jumping out of Tante June, we’ll be landing in style.”

  “The glider will allow us to approach the target noiselessly and probably undetected until it is too late for the enemy. It will also enable the troop to be inserted on to the target as a cohesive unit, with weapons at hand, rather than being dispersed, as you would parachuting in and then having to get to the equipment canister for your personal weapons.”

  “For this morning, I just want you to get used to climbing in and out of the glider. Get used to sitting down in it with your weapons, get used to moving around inside and used to egressing and exiting through the two openings at the side and through the cockpit roof. We’ll have seven troopers aboard each glider, plus the pilot. You need to be comfortable with this aircraft, even more so than you would with a Junkers. Although it is built of tubular steel construction and has wooden wings, the body itself is fragile. The l
ast thing we want is a jump boot or rifle barrel poking through the sides. It may improve ventilation, but will do the airworthiness of the glider no good what so ever.”

  The group laughed.

  “The pilot will probably ask you to leave, isn’t that right?” he said to Leutnant Krause, turning to the glider pilot who had just joined the group.

  “It might have an impact on its trim,” he said smiling.

  “Leutnant Krause is in command of the glider flotilla and will answer any questions you may have about his baby. Right gentlemen, you have the next four hours to familiarise yourselves with your new mode of transport, carry on.”

  Paul turned to the other NCOs also in attendance.

  “There are three gliders, so my platoon will take this one, and split the other two between you, ok?”

  The two NCOs acknowledged their assents with a nod of the head and called to their men.

  “Gather round,” Paul called to his contingent, “we’ll go over it one troop at a time,” instructed Paul.

  “And take it easy. We don’t want any damage, you never know, this may be the one we have to fly in!” added Max cheerfully.

  “Unterfeldwebel?” piped up Fessman, the platoon comedian, “they’re kidding aren’t they; it looks like it’s been built in someone’s back yard?”

  “Maybe we should fill it full of ballast, add you too it, and send it up for a test,” responded Max.

  “Maybe he wants to be a wing walker Unterfeldwebel,” added another.”

  “Didn’t you know Fessman, you’re the one who has to climb out of the cockpit and release the tow rope,” pointed out another paratrooper from the back of the ranks.

  Paul looked at Max and nodded, Max understanding that it was time to stop the ribaldry and move on and explore the craft in front of them.

  There was no frustration in Paul’s nod or Max’s subsequent orders to start to do what they were here for. Both Max and Paul welcomed the banter that was generated by the platoon. It just added to the feeling of camaraderie that there was amongst them, and the Fallschirmjager as a whole.

  The paratroopers had every faith in the gliders, and the pilots who would fly them, that were going to deliver them to the point of battle.

  Paul turned to Krause to ask a question, “The wheels, are they jettisoned after liftoff?”

  “Yes Leutnant Brand, we’ll be dependent on the ski only for landing.”

  “Does it have breaks sir?” queried Max

  “Unfortunately not Unterfeldwebel, but we are currently looking at ways to slow it down. Any suggestions would be more than welcome. We are looking at barbed wire as a potential option.”

  “What is the landing distance?” continued Paul with the questioning. If he was putting his life in the hands of a frame with wings, he needed to have some comfort that all would be well on landing.

  “It’s expected landing distance is thirty metres, but we are, as I have said, experimenting with some alternative breaking systems.”

  Paul was the first to step in through the side door. He looked around; it certainly wasn’t spacious inside. The seats were in tandem, in a single line, six facing forward and four facing backward. The rear four were removable to allow the carriage of additional equipment or supplies.

  In fact for the upcoming mission, three of the rear seats would be removed to allow the paratroopers to store the additional explosives they would need to take with them to tackle the forts defences.

  Paul looked at the pilot’s cockpit, if you could call it that. It contained a seat and a few controls. The instruments were phosphorescent, to allow the pilot to see them in the dark, and included an airspeed indicator, altimeter, turn-and-bank indicator and compass. The minimum required in order to fly the glider effectively. Not so much fly, more control it plummeting to the ground, thought Paul.

  He looked up at the top of the canopy, and standing on the pilot’s seat, pushed the canopy up and over to the right, he envisaged climbing out through that exit point with weapon in hand. It would be difficult, and should the pilot be ok, he would probably be one of the first out.

  He moved further into the glider, the gap either side of the seats being not much more than the width of a man’s boot, reaching seat number six, facing forwards, where he sat down.

  He looked to the front of the light aircraft and saw Max’s bulk entering the glider, followed by other paratroopers. Paul could already hear the glider creaking in protest as a result of the weight being imposed on it steadily increasing as more and more troopers climbed on board.

  The seat was small, hard and the space cramped. He was told that they would not be in the air for more than forty minutes, which was just as well. Loaded with the pilot, seven paratroopers and their personal equipment, plus the additional equipment they would need to take in order to complete their mission, any longer and it would get quite uncomfortable and claustrophobic.

  Just wearing his jump suit, without all of the additional paraphernalia a paratrooper wore, Paul’s six foot two frame was very snug indeed, his head almost touching the roof of the craft. Just a quick calculation of ten seats in a twelve metre glider, allowed only one and a quarter metres of space for the paratrooper’s seat, himself and his equipment. That did not take into account the space required for the cockpit and of course the tail plane.

  Max moved up to where Paul was sitting, trying the straps that would hold them securely when the glider hit the ground.

  “I’m not sure it’s safe for me to sit down sir,” said Max grinning.

  “We’ll have to put you on a diet then.”

  “I’m not getting enough food as it is sir!” he uttered.

  Max sat down on the seat in front of Paul, and with just the two of them it appeared as if the entire cabin was full.

  Paul slid back, to enable the other soldiers of his troop to position themselves astride the long bench. When all seven were seated, they got the first impression of just how little space there was and how difficult it would be to decamp from the plane. Should the glider be damaged, on its side, or even somersaulted, they would have to make a fast and furious, but difficult exit.

  “Right Max, I’m going to have a look around the outside, let the rest of the guinea pigs take a look at their palatial mode of transport.”

  “Where do they serve the coffee and Bratwurst’s on this bus?” A paratrooper was heard to sound off.

  It was just typical of the soldier’s sense of humour and it hid what they were really thinking. They were going to fly into battle in a fragile box with wings, without an engine, with no armament and limited control of its descent. In fact, the paratroopers had no control at all.

  “A flying box,” Paul thought out loud.

  “It is pretty much what it is sir,” agreed Max, reflecting on what his Platoon Commander had just said.

  “Let’s go sir,” I’m getting claustrophobic already and I haven’t been onboard for more than a few minutes.”

  Paul and Max moved back towards the central door, practically climbing over the other men, a lesson learnt already, last in, first out; and exited out of the door, ducking down under the wings and out into the fresh air. A thump and a groan from Max indicating that he had not ducked low enough.

  The relief was palpable. The one positive, if there was one, was that at least the paratroopers would be more than ready to get out of the glider when it landed.

  The other men of Paul’s troop also exited the plane, allowing the rest of his force to take a turn in the confined space.

  “We clearly need to spend some time getting acquainted with that baby,” said Max out loud.

  “We need to allocate some time to run through loading and unloading,” agreed Paul. “We can start off slowly and then practice until we are able to get out in record time.”

  “Definitely start off slowly, sir, it wouldn’t take much to damage the outer skin if we’re not careful.”

  Paul and Max started to walk around the external elements of th
e glider. Looking at it from front on, they could see just how narrow it was, no wonder it was so cramped inside.

  Moving further around the side they could see that the ski, situated in between the jettison-able pair of wheels, ran as far back as the centre of the wings.

  Max bent down to look underneath the glider.

  “We don’t yet know what type of ground we’ll be landing on, but if it is something like wet grass, this baby is going to take some stopping.”

  “Let’s hope that Oberleutnant Krause and his team come up with some breaking solutions, eh Max? Right lets go and talk to the troops and get some feedback on their experience and answer the questions they will undoubtedly have.”

  The officer and the NCO returned to the side of the glider to gather the men together and discuss the benefits, and disadvantages, of their new means of transport.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  It was towards the end of January, nineteen forty, the weather had deteriorated considerably. Although daytime temperatures were starting to climb to a high of minus eight, the night time temperatures could still drop below minus twenty.

  Sturmabteilung Kaufmann had been training now for three months and the training was progressing to Hauptman Kaufmann’s satisfaction.

  Group Granite had slowly built up its stamina and general fitness through vigorous physical training, enhanced by carrying extremely heavy weights, mimicking the weights of the explosives they would have to carry for real. They visited fortresses in Czechoslovakia and Poland, in order to see how they were constructed, their general layout, and more importantly, what the key issues were in assaulting such formidable structures.

  It had been clear, that although flamethrowers could have a significant impact on taking such emplacements as heavily fortified bunkers, they couldn’t damage the bunkers enough to make them inoperable, or enable the paratroopers to access them, they would need to use a significant amount of high explosives to achieve entry, and ultimately, their total destruction.

  But, they were concerned at the magnitude of explosives needed, to be used across the eleven assault troops and the subsequent impact on the weight carried by the eleven gliders.