by Eric Meyer
“Let’s go!”
We had a worrying moment when we reached our lines, the whole front was alerted and they nearly mistook us for Russians, but we managed to persuade them to let us through with our hands held high. Once we were safe, I hurried back to HQ and we handed over the prisoner. Muller came out to see what the fuss was all about.
He nodded with approval. “Well done, men. I’m sure we’ll milk this one for everything he knows.”
“He speaks German, Sir, and I believe he’s anxious to cooperate to save his skin.”
“Is that so?” He looked at Tereschova.
“And why are you so keen so rat on your comrades, Comrade Commissar? I thought you people were all dedicated communists.”
The Russian looked Muller over. “Yes, so we are, Sturmbannfuhrer.” He spat out the rank ‘Sturmbannfuhrer’ as if it was a swear word. Muller raised his eyes.
“So you know our SS ranks, do you?”
“Of course, it is my job to know the enemy we face. Do you know what we call you people?”
Muller shook his head.
“You take the orders of the devil in Berlin, Hitler. You are his guard, are you not, the Schutzstaffel? We call you the Devil’s Guard. What I say makes no difference, you and the devil Hitler you guard are beaten. All of you Germans will regret the day you ever set foot on our soil!”
Muller’s expression darkened. “What the hell are you talking about, beaten? You are a prisoner of the SS, we have a whole Panzer army here, my friend, more than enough to smash anything you send against us, so how are we beaten?”
“For every Panzer division you put in the field, Sturmbannfuhrer, we can mount three tank armies to oppose you. For every soldier you send forward with a rifle we can send forward twenty, with twenty more waiting to take their place when they fall. For every aircraft you send over, we will put ten aircraft up to shoot it down. You are finished, SS man, you and every other German that has invaded my country!”
There was silence in our group for several seconds. I’d heard the same defeatist talk from my own men, perhaps the Soviet propaganda machine was very effective. But the Commissar was clearly wrong. I knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that the German armies were the most powerful fighting force in the world. And our SS Divisions were the elite of that fighting force.
“Take him away,” snapped Muller. “Get our intelligence people to talk to him, they’ll soon find out what’s in front of us. Well done, Hoffman.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
“You and your men had better get something to eat and get some rest, we may be in action very soon.”
We managed to locate some foul tasting stew from the cookhouse with thick slices of black bread. I couldn’t face the ersatz coffee again, so I washed the meal down with fresh water, probably melted snow, but it tasted fine. We spent the rest of the day repairing and maintaining our weapons and equipment and then we went into the church and I flung myself down behind the blanket and fell straight to sleep, praying that neither army, German or Soviet, would disturb me this time. They didn’t and I slept the whole night, in the morning I was awoken by Mundt, who said it was time for stand to. I was still fully dressed to keep out the cold, I even still wore my winter camouflage. It was a simple matter of pulling on my jackboots and rushing outside with my men for the assembly. There was no alarm, no emergency, so we were able to get a leisured breakfast. I even thought about a shave, except that the prospect of trimming my beard in ice-cold water was distinctly unappealing. We sat around the camp, cleaning and checking our weapons.
“What did you think about what the Russian said, Sir?” Merkel asked me.
“What do you mean?”
“About them outnumbering us so massively, do you think it’s true?”
“They outnumbered us at the start of Barbarossa, it didn’t make any difference then and it won’t now.”
“So why are we constantly retreating, Herr Untersturmfuhrer?”
I noticed the other men were looking at me intently. I knew I had to be careful with my answer. The trouble was, I honestly didn’t know, I was newly commissioned and had only just arrived at the Front.
A new voice answered him. “It’s part of the Fuhrer’s strategy to pull the Russians onto our guns so that we can slaughter them in even larger numbers, then outflank them and mount a joint drive on both Moscow and the southern oilfields.”
I looked around, it was SD Sturmbannfuhrer von Betternich, leaning on his cane. The older man managed to look fresh and clean shaven, his uniform immaculate in regulation field grey, he had a wide lapelled black leather greatcoat over his tunic and wore a smart peaked cap. We all stood up to attention.
“No, no,” he waved us back down. “Hoffman, would you report to my office in, shall we say, half an hour?”
“Yes, Sir.”
He walked away and we relaxed.
“So that’s it, is it?” Bauer asked me. “We’re pulling the Russians onto our guns to kill more of them?”
“I imagine so, Bauer. Why else would we be constantly pulling back?”
After half an hour I got up to leave.
“I thought we’d finished helping him out,” Mundt said, “he makes me uneasy, that SD man. I never did like policemen much.”
I smiled. “Had problems in the past, Scharfuhrer?”
“Well, yes, one or two. I remember when the Party first started, I joined the SA, damn, we had some fun. Fistfights, battles with the communists, always made a profit too, of course, if you kept your eyes open. The police were always two faced, mind, let you do anything you wanted one minute, throw you in jail the next.”
“Well, you’ve got plenty of fighting to do here, so I trust you’ll stay out of prison.”
He laughed. “As long as they don’t catch me, or the Russians shoot me before it’s all over.”
The other members of the platoon cheered him as he said it. He was a likeable rogue and a good man to have as my senior NCO.
“Don’t ever steal anything from the SS, Mundt, they’ll have you shot.”
They all laughed again. I went over to find von Betternich, he was sat behind his desk.
“How is everything going, Hoffman, I gather you had a successful night?”
“Yes, Sir, no problems. Look, I thought that my work with you was over, you’ve finished investigating the Regimental officers, I’d prefer to stay on duty.”
“Had enough of police work, have you?”
“It’s not that, Sir. I just want to fight the Russians, I feel that’s what I’m here for, not investigating my fellow officers.”
He looked thoughtful. “Come with me, Hoffman.”
We walked outside and strolled around the camp in the fresh air.
“I see the monks are still here,” he said abruptly.
I had forgotten about them, they were part of the scenery of the camp, but yes, they were still there, sitting outside their makeshift, ragged camp, just outside our perimeter. One of them had erected a crude, wooden cross on a pole.
“Yes, I expect they’re waiting to regain possession of the monastery and church when we leave,” I replied.
“Is that what they’re doing?”
I looked at him sharply. “What else would they be doing, Sir?”
“No, no, I think you’re probably right, they’re just trying to get back what is rightfully theirs. That’s the trouble with war, property gets, shall we say, re-assigned. Churches, monasteries, buildings, artworks.”
I was mystified, where was this conversation heading.
“You know of Reichsmarschall Goering’s art collection in his home at Karinhall, of course, Hoffman?”
I’d heard rumours but I decided to say I’d never heard of it. Von Betternich smiled.
“Is that right? Well, well. The Reichsmarschall is of course holding it all in trust for the nation, very noble of him, don’t you think?”
“Yes, of course, Sir.”
“But war, you see, confuses things. Loy
alties, for example, people forget who they owe allegiance to.”
I was horrified. “You mean there is some kind of a conspiracy against the Reich?”
“Who knows? I am merely a policeman investigating the murder of those senior officers, it leaves their regiments leaderless, rudderless. That’s what happens, you see, you chop off the head and people run around without orders, without knowing who to trust.”
We walked on, I was enjoying the chill and fresh spring air, but not the company, not the ominous way this conversation was heading. Or was the chill coming from the very dangerous SD officer next to me? I laughed inside at that melodramatic thought. Von Betternich, of course, was a policeman, he could almost read minds as he’d mentioned before.
“I am not your enemy, Hoffman. Quite the opposite.”
“No, Sir.”
“Are you a Christian?”
What kind of a question was that? “Er, not really, Sir, no. Not for a long time.”
“No, of course not. I imagine your loyalties are clear?”
“Absolutely, Sir, to the Fuhrer, to the SS, to my regiment.”
“Good. I need you to continue, Hoffman. I need someone I can trust to assist me. This investigation could have a serious effect on the course of the war on the Eastern Front. At the very least, it may uncover a serious conspiracy to undermine the discipline and loyalty of the Das Reich Division of the Waffen SS. That kind of thing can lose battles if it is left to grow and fester, do you understand how easily it can happen?”
I thought for a few moments, but lying to this man would not be a good idea.
“No, not really, Sir, I don’t understand at all.”
I didn’t want to understand either, it was politics. The further I drifted into this murky world, the further I would get from the glorious career I’d dreamed about in the Waffen SS.
I left him and walked back towards my billet in the church. Overhead, a bunch of aircraft flew past causing the alarms to sound, men running to don steel helmets, Flak guns sighting on the planes, there were perhaps thirty of them, a strong force. They were heading west, quite low, more Ilyushin Il-2s, the infamous Sturmovik. No match for our Messerschmitts and Focke-Wulfs, of course. Except that the Luftwaffe wasn’t anywhere to be seen.
“Going to give our Panzers some problems, I imagine,” a voice said behind me, Sturmbannfuhrer Muller, now acting commander of the Standarte ‘Deutschland’.
I heard the distant sound of anti-aircraft fire, the whine of the aero engines as they dove in for the attack, the whistle of bombs as they hurtled earthwards, then the explosions as they struck.
“Where are our aircraft, Sir? It seems crazy to let the Soviets have free rein to attack our Panzers.”
“Where are they indeed? That’s a good question. A question we often ask ourselves, Hoffman, and we never seem to get a satisfactory reply.”
We both stared into the distance at the smoke and explosions. Our own Flak guns were on standby, the whole camp buttoned up tight, but other than being able to take a shot at the enemy as they returned after their mission it was doubtful we’d be able to help the Panzers.
“I’m not happy about you cooperating with the Sicherheitsdienst, Hoffman. I don’t trust that officer, von Betternich. The last thing I need is a policeman running around upsetting morale.”
“I don’t like it either, Sir. I’d sooner just be with my platoon.”
“Of course you would. You can help me out you know, keep me informed of the investigation. I’ll do what I can to get you relieved from this SD matter as soon as possible, I don’t want one of my officers tied up with policemen.”
So it was to be quid-pro-quo. Somehow, I felt even more uneasy about being asked to spy on the SD. In effect, to spy on the spies.
CHAPTER THREE
“We are determined, as leaders of the nation, to fulfill as a national government the task which has been given to us, swearing fidelity only to God, our conscience, and our Volk... This the national government will regard its first and foremost duty to restore the unity of spirit and purpose of our Volk. It will preserve and defend the foundations upon
which the power of our nation rests. It will take Christianity, as the basis of our collective morality, and the family as the nucleus of our Volk and state, under its firm protection... May God Almighty take our work into his grace, give true form to our will, bless our insight, and endow us with the trust of our Volk.”
Adolf Hitler February 1933
There was no time for me to think any more about my loyalties concerning either the SS or the SD. My regiment, Deutschland, was part of SS Division Das Reich, itself part of the newly reformed SS Panzer Corps under the command of one of our SS heroes, Obergruppenfuhrer Paul Hausser who the men had nicknamed ‘Papa’. One of our regiments, Der Fuhrer, had been pushed back from their advance positions on the River Oskol, had to regroup and dig into new positions. During the day, we were amused to see streams of our allied Italian troops fleeing from the Soviets. Yet our morale was good, our Army Group South Commander, von Manstein, made it clear that the Russians had run out of steam and shortly we would be going back on the offensive, one that this time would sweep the enemy away and put us firmly back on the road to Moscow. I joined my platoon and we marched away to join the Panzers of our Division ready to mount our new attack. We would be riding in style as we’d been assigned a new delivery of armoured half-tracked vehicles with which to go into battle. Clearly, our commanders were anticipating a lightning thrust against the Russians that would carry everything before them. We assembled in a wood outside the village of Valki, line after line of our heavy tanks, artillery pieces, troop carriers and more, a formidable force. It was snowing heavily, a blizzard started to obliterate the countryside and it was difficult to see more than fifty metres in any direction.
Muller, our regimental commander, came back from Division and started giving orders. For my platoon, out task was simple, we were to follow the Panzers and suppress any pockets of resistance that threatened us in the rear of the advance and of course clear enemy mines.
“It’s quite straightforward, stay with the tanks and watch out for any enemy that they miss, we’re going in fast and hard. You will all be riding in the new armoured personnel carriers, so you shouldn’t have problems keeping up. Any questions?”
I put up my hand.
“Hoffman?”
“Sir, what about radio communications?”
“No, most of our vehicles don’t have radios, they’re in short supply. I shall be in contact with Division, so keep your eyes on me for any changes in orders.”
It didn’t sound satisfactory, more like a Great War army, but I acknowledged the order. Kretschmer, an Obersturmfuhrer asked him about mine detectors.
“We’re still waiting for replacement batteries, Kretschmer.”
“Sir, we don’t have a single working mine detector and we know the Soviets will have planted plenty of them, how do we clear them?”
Muller thought for a moment, he looked a little embarrassed.
“Look, we’re waiting for fresh batteries to come in from Germany, at the moment we’re all in the same boat. If you think there’s a minefield, you’ll have to go forward and use your bayonets to find them.”
I had to be careful to keep a straight face, our mighty First SS Panzerkorps forced to go forward and dig out the mines by prodding for them with bayonets. And no radios in our vehicles either, should I ask Muller about carrier pigeons? Better not.
There was a clamour in the distance, Muller looked up with an irritated expression. “Damn fools, we haven’t had the order to go yet.”
We looked towards where the noise was coming from, suddenly the snowstorm cleared briefly and we could see men scrambling to climb into their tanks, artillery gunners working frantically to deploy guns. It was chaos, shouts, the roar of engines starting, whistles blowing. Then a siren started to wail and we heard distinctly a sentry shouting as he ran towards us.
“Alarm
, alarm! They’re attacking, sound the alarm!”
Behind him there was the explosion of a tank shell as it exploded, then they were coming down on our position.
“It seems that someone neglected to tell the Soviets that they were overextended,” Kretschmer said drily. “They’ve decided to take the initiative and attack first.”
But Muller overrode him, shouting “Mount up, mount up, stay with the tanks!”
I ran for my vehicle, a Sonderkraftfahrzeug 251 half-track, designed specifically for our Panzer Grenadiers to keep up with the tanks. Equipped with a 37mm Pak 36 anti-tank gun, as well as two mounted MG34s, we were confident that they would give us sufficient firepower and mobility to support our new advance. Except that the enemy had decided not to wait, they were coming straight towards us.
I leapt aboard, the men were already there waiting for me.
“Follow the Panzers,” I shouted at the driver. I hadn’t a clue where they were going, it seemed that neither did anyone else. Several of the tanks turned around and headed away from the action, but to their credit, most had the sense to go forward to engage the enemy. We bumped through the wood, trying to make sense of the confusion in front of us. Another half-track running parallel to us took a hit from a T34’s main gun and disintegrated, several men were thrown screaming to the ground. The driver slowed, but I shouted at him to keep going. Mundt was manning the small Pak anti-tank gun fitted to our half-track.