Devil's Guard- The Complete Series Box Set

by Eric Meyer

  “I took shelter in here from the bullets, Hoffman, but the building was hit by a Soviet shell and collapsed around me.”

  “The Soviets were certainly chucking everything at us, Sir, you’re very lucky.”

  “Perhaps, but it was not Soviet bullets that I was sheltering from. Someone else shot at me while the battle was on. Have you seen Kriminalkommissar Wiedel?”

  I told him he was at regimental HQ with Muller.

  “In that case you can escort me there now, Hoffman. Thank you for rescuing me.”

  He was quite able to walk and we made our way to where Muller was talking to his officers. Wiedel was nearby using the HQ radio, he saw von Betternich and signed off, then came to greet him.

  “It’s good to see you, Sir,” Wiedel said.

  “Yes. Listen, Wiedel, they tried to kill me, did you know that?”

  “No, Sir, I didn’t. Who tried to kill you?”

  “I don’t know who it was, but I would recognise him if I saw him again, he came quite close to me. What is happening here?”

  “We’re pushing forward again, the LAH have taken over our positions around Kharkov, we are heading back to Korenevo prior to jumping off for Kursk. Departure is set for the early hours of tomorrow morning.”

  He looked around it was growing very dark.

  “Very well, I’ll do the rounds of every man in the regiment when we stop at Korenevo and see if I can find the swine that shot at me.”

  “Assuming it was one of our SS Deutschland soldiers, Sir.”

  He looked at me thoughtfully. “Yes, that’s right, assuming that it was. We will see in daylight when we arrive at Korenevo. Bastards, they tried to kill me!”

  I got back to the platoon and settled in for a short night. We bivouacked next to the half-track, again my position as officer in command gave me a privileged place in the cockpit, so I was out of the snow. The men passed around another bottle of schnapps, they seemed to have an inexhaustible supply, I didn’t complain. My thoughts were elsewhere and I was happy to drown my sorrows.

  “The men won’t be sorry to get back to Korenevo, Sir, that church was a lot warmer than out in the open.”

  “That’s true. Has anyone heard any news of Kharkov, the Russian bombing? Did they hit the hospital?”

  “You’re worried about the nurse, Sir?”

  I admitted that I was.

  “I heard from someone that they hit several buildings but not the hospital,” Voss said. “I’m sure she’ll be safe.”

  My hopes lifted, but when I’d be able to get back to Kharkov and check for myself I couldn’t be sure. This battle seemed to be endless, it had started before I arrived for my new posting and there was no sign of it ending. First we took ground, the Soviets counterattacked and retook it, then we took it again, when would there be a real conclusion? I thought about what the men had said, that the Russians had seemingly endless supplies of men and equipment. Our own supplies were becoming more and more intermittent, it was a sobering thought that the 6th Army had perished in the snows of Stalingrad almost entirely through lack of food and ammunition. We all remembered the radio broadcasts, Reichsminister Goering promising to resupply by air, Reichsminister Goebbels constantly assuring us that the city was in our hands, even the Fuhrer claimed that the 6th Army would prevail right up until the end. They had all been wrong. It struck me like a body blow that if the assertions of the men were true, then the Russians would always have the advantage in men and materiel. In that case, the end would surely be pre-ordained, we couldn’t beat them. We had just won a good victory, beating back the fresh Russian offensive at Kharkov. I recalled that they’d sent wave after wave of troops against us as if they did indeed have thousands, possibly millions more to take their places when they fell. Was the war in Russia then doomed? I tried to put that thought out of my mind, as it was unthinkable. Yet at the current rate of attrition, we could win battle after battle and still lose the war, eventually we would just run out of troops, of tanks, of fuel and ammunition.

  I helped myself to more schnapps. Mundt raised his eyebrows, but said nothing. I realised how much I depended on the tough, reliable sergeant, he always seemed to be there, always did the right thing. When I drifted off to sleep, I thought again of Heide. It seemed that almost as soon as I’d shut my eyes I was being shaken awake. It was Beidenberg, “Sir, we’re getting ready to move out, we’ve made a pot of coffee. Merkel managed to get some loaves of bread from the cookhouse, so you’ll want some breakfast before we leave.”

  I groaned, my limbs were stiff with cold and the cramped position I’d slept in.

  “What time is it, Beidenberg?”

  “One thirty, Sir.”

  We had half an hour before we left. I quickly strapped on my webbing, checked my MP38 and went towards the smell of hot coffee. As usual, it was foul, but at least it was hot and soaked into the bread in my stomach.

  “Are we anticipating much resistance, Sir?” Merkel asked.

  I smiled, he was obviously keen to follow up on his grenade throwing exploits.

  “I suggest you keep a supply of grenades handy, Merkel, you never know.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “And keep that rifle handy too, we could find having our own sniper might useful.”

  He nodded and smiled.

  When I climbed into the half-track I discovered that Merkel already had a fresh wooden box of grenades by his feet, the lid off and ready to use. That suited me, if we ran into Soviet resistance a well-thrown grenade could well tip the balance in our favour. Then there were shouts for us to start up, there was a massive roar of engines, smoke swirled over the vehicles, even the light of the campfires disappeared into the dark cloud as the leading vehicles pulled away. We were advancing again, yet I felt little optimism, I was being carried further away from Heide. Even after knowing her for such a short time, she was uppermost in my thoughts. Whatever it took I would get back to see her, whatever.

  We were well on the way when I heard the sound of a shell being fired up ahead, one of ours. Two more shells were fired, then there was the chatter of machine gun fire, after that everything went silent, obviously a Soviet outpost that had been taken by surprise. We accelerated and after another kilometre more firing broke out, this time shells and bullets whistled overhead, it seemed that we were engaging the enemy. A flare lit up the sky and I saw the amazing sight of an entire Soviet army encamped on the steppe immediately in front of us. How on earth they’d failed to realise we were heading towards them I couldn’t imagine, except that they may have mistaken our tanks for their own. But it was a golden opportunity, by the light of the flare I could see the tankers jumping into their vehicles, clouds of exhaust smoke as they started the engines, men running out of tents, pulling on boots and grabbing equipment. Some of the men were already firing back at us, camp sentries, anti-aircraft guns probably, but it was all too little too late. We smashed through the Twenty Fourth Army, part of the Voronezh Front, as if it was made of paper. The Panzers and STuGIIIs were firing constantly and the Soviet tanks were exploding one by one, as our shells hit the easy stationary targets. The machine gunners of our tanks and half-tracks poured belt after belt of ammunition at the hapless Russians, some tried to regroup to shoot back but there was a desperate panic in the camp, that blocked men’s minds and stopped them thinking sanely. Then we were in amongst them.

  Merkel lobbed his grenades in quick succession. A small group of soldiers were crouched behind a pile of rubble, popping out to take quick shots at our troops. Two stick grenades sailed over their heads to land, one behind them, one in their middle and they exploded in a shattering mixture of smoke, brick dust and body parts. Mundt was firing the forward MG42 and Beidenberg the rear, they swept the ground of live soldiers, leaving only corpse strewn devastation in their wake. Voss was driving, several times he swerved to run down a group of fleeing Russians, Beidenberg finished off any survivors as we rushed past. Several tanks had started their engines and were fleeing the
battle but our Panzers and STuGIIIs pursued them and finished them off. An armoured car, a command car probably with its large aerial array, was totally destroyed, almost certainly incinerating its occupants including the commander of this outfit, possibly a Soviet general. Our half-tracks were braking to a halt, soldiers jumping out and going around on foot to finish off the survivors. Our job now was to protect the Panzers from infantry attack from the rear, the Russians had a nasty habit of popping up behind our Panzers and hitting them in their vulnerable, thinly armoured rear. We went from cover to cover, shell hole to shell hole, rooting out Soviet resistance and taking prisoner any that surrendered. Not all were quick enough, some soldiers were too slow to throw down their guns and put up their hands and our men mowed them down in droves. I shouted at my men to be careful and spare those soldiers that surrendered, but their blood was up, they were both terrified and exhilarated in the fierce heat of battle and they were hard to rein in. Finally we had cleared the area of the enemy, the prisoners were being herded back to begin their captivity and we pressed on non-stop to Korenevo. The track was clear of any enemy and we were able to drive straight to the monastery and make camp just as if we had never left.

  I was surprised to see the monks still in their camp. When we checked out the church and monastery it was obvious that the Soviet army we had just decimated had used them as a headquarters, there were signs everywhere that they had made a hurried departure. We simply moved our possessions back in and took over as before.

  “Weird, those monks camped out over there still,” Mundt said to me. “They must be dedicated.”

  Merkel was watching them too, an uneasy expression on his face, no doubt he had been religious once. Perhaps he still was.

  “It’s almost as if they’re waiting for something,” he said. “They give me the creeps.”

  I laughed at his nervousness. “Merkel, they are waiting for something, they’re waiting for the soldiers of both sides to go home and leave them alone. They suffered under the communists, Stalin had tens of thousands of their priests shot. Now we’ve arrived and they’ve got freedom of religion but they are stuck in the middle of a war zone with soldiers occupying their church.”

  “That’s right, Merkel, they just want us all to bugger off and leave them alone,” Mundt added.

  “Well, they still make me uneasy, seeing them waiting there, silently. I’m going to go over and see what they want.”

  Some impulse made me get up and shoulder my MP38. “I think I’ll come with you, Merkel, you’ve aroused my curiosity.”

  The platoon looked astonished. “Are you religious then, Sir?” Voss asked.

  “No, I’m not, I’m just curious, as I said. After all, they’re our neighbours, I want to see what they’re like.”

  “Make sure they don’t convert you,” Mundt shouted after us.

  Merkel half turned and flipped a rude sign back at him.

  We walked over to the camp, there were six tents, some large, some small. The monks, twelve of them, were sitting on cut logs they had dragged around a campfire to use as stools. They eyed us warily as we approached, I remembered that we were still armed to the teeth, I had two unused stick grenades clipped to my webbing, my Walther in the holster and the MP38 on its strap around my chest. With the steel helmet on my head, it was hardly an encouraging sight. An older man looked up at me, then got warily to his feet.

  “I am Bishop Demchak, how may I help you?”

  I tried to give him a reassuring smile. “Jurgen Hoffman, Bishop. Don’t worry, I want nothing from you, nothing at all. I just came visit your camp and to ask why you are still here.”

  The older man hesitated for a moment. “And where would we go, Untersturmfuhrer?”

  “You know of our SS ranks?”

  “I make it my business to know who is occupying our church.”

  “I’m sorry, it must be difficult for you.”

  He shrugged. “It has been so for a long time, the communists have not made our life easy. But to answer your question as to why we are still here, we must guard what is ours.”

  “The church and the buildings, you mean?”

  “Our order of monks has many riches, Untersturmfuhrer, not all are visible to men. But yes, the buildings are of course important to us.”

  “And the other riches, the ones not visible to men?”

  He looked alarmed for a moment, then relaxed. I guess he remembered that we weren’t a communist raiding party.

  “God has many mysteries, my son. We preserve what we can.”

  I was growing tired of his cryptic way of speaking, I felt as if he was in some way trying to dazzle me with the benefits of redemption.

  “Come on, Merkel, let’s get back to the others and see if they’ve managed to find any food.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Herr Hoffman,” the Bishop called after me. “If you are in need of spiritual guidance, do come and see me again, I will be pleased to assist you.”

  I waved my hand in acknowledgement as we walked away. Then a thought struck me, how did he know my name was Hoffman? I looked around but he had gone, probably disappeared into one of the tents.

  The cookhouse had prepared their inevitable stew and brewed more foul coffee. I took a steaming bowl of potato soup mixed with some indeterminate meat, a hunk of coarse bread and a mug of coffee and sat with the men. My head had started to ache again badly after the excitement of the early morning engagement and I was glad of a rest and hot food.

  “So what’s the next move, Sir,” Voss asked me. “Is this the beginning of the attack on Kursk?”

  “Why Kursk, why are you so keen on Kursk?” I asked him.

  “I had a woman there, bloody beautiful, can’t wait to get back to her. We were in love, you know, she was the nicest girl I’d ever met, said she’d come back to Germany with me after the war, unless of course I settled here on one of these farms.”

  “You do that and the bloody partisans will cut your balls off, you know,” Mundt said. “They don’t take kindly to our settlers.”

  “But Oberschutze, she could be dead by now, you should prepare yourself for the worst,” I said to him.

  “Oh, I have, Sir. She had a couple of sisters so at least one of them is bound to have survived.”

  I heard the men laughing, I tried but couldn’t hide my astonishment at human nature. “I hope it turns out well for you, Voss.”

  “Yes. What about your girl, Sir?” Voss asked me. “You know, the pretty nurse at the hospital, do you reckon she’s ok?”

  “Fraulein Thalberg is in perfect health, I’m happy to say,” a voice said from the other side of the half-track. Von Betternich, as always standing in the shadows where you least expected him. But this time he was welcome.

  “Sir, it’s good to see you. So you have news of Heide?”

  “Yes, the hospital was untouched by the bombing and shelling, she is fit and well and going about her duties even as we speak. A word with you, Untersturmfuhrer.”

  I moved away from the men and we found a quiet spot.

  “I found the man I was looking for.”

  “One of our men, from the Deutschland Regiment?”

  “As it turned out, yes, he was.”

  “Was, Sir?”

  “Was. He had been shot, not a rifle bullet this time, as far as we can tell. A shot to the side of the head, doubtful he even saw it coming. When the surgeon has time I will get him to extract the bullet, but I have little doubt it will prove to be one of ours.”

  “So you think the sniper is one of our own people?”

  “Certainly a German, yes, but not necessarily from this regiment. No, he could be from another regiment, Der Fuhrer, perhaps, we have unfinished business there, if you remember. We are due to go back and visit them, I will naturally want you to accompany me.”

  “Sir, I thought I was finished with all of that business?”

  “I need you, Hoffman, to watch my back. It seems you need me too, to watch your bac
k,” he looked significantly at my head wound, covered by the bandaging.

  “I’m sure I can take care of myself, Sir.”

  He smiled. “You don’t want the men thinking you’re being watched over by a policeman, eh? But what about Fraulein Thalberg?”

  “What about her?”

  “You have been helping us, naturally we are concerned for your welfare and that of your friends. You are aware that the Kriminalkommissar has made it his business to keep an eye out for Fraulein Thalberg’s well-being. War can be a very dangerous business, you know.”

  So that was the quid pro quo, but it was a price well worth paying. And he knew that I would pay it, gladly and in full.

  “I appreciate that, Sir.”

  “Good. Der Fuhrer have set up their HQ outside the city of Kharkov, Hoffman. We’ll be going there in the morning, perhaps there will be time for a visit to the hospital if you wish. You could take the opportunity to get your dressing changed and attend to other more personal business. Now, I have some matters to attend to with Sturmbannfuhrer Muller, I will see if he has a Kubelwagen that we can borrow. Half-tracks are so uncomfortable, aren’t they? And entirely too warlike, quite the wrong impression for a policeman.”

  He nodded and walked off, leaving me once more wrapped up in the dark tentacles of the SD. And now, of course, the Gestapo. But tomorrow, I may see Heide, I could deal with the SD and the Gestapo if meant spending some time with her, even a few precious minutes.

  An hour later, a runner came to find me.

  “Sir, you are to report to Sturmbannfuhrer Muller, at once!”