Devil's Guard- The Complete Series Box Set

by Eric Meyer

  We had a quick drink to celebrate the new beginning on the Eastern Front. He barely had time to put the bottle away, before a battery of guns opened fire. They were tank guns. Shells landed around our position, Russian shells, they were here.

  Our Panzers roared into action, Tigers and STuGIIIs, soon the new day was a chaos of smoke and flame, the roar of engines and the constant gunfire and shells exploding.

  “Deutschland, let’s move!” Muller shouted across the camp.

  Voss started up the half-track and we moved out to follow the Panzers. We drove onto the flat steppe outside Korenevo where our forces had surprised the Russian advance, our Panzers had tangled with T34s and vehicles manoeuvred for advantage as shell after shell flew across the battlefield. Russian tank riders were jumping off their vehicles and setting up positions in shell holes, quickly bringing their anti-tank rockets into play. As we watched, a rocket hit the armoured side of a nearby Tiger tank and bounced off the heavy armour, but a hit on the thinner rear plate or on the more lightly armoured assault guns could be devastating.

  “Voss, over there, head for that position,” I shouted, “eleven o’clock, about sixty metres ahead!”

  “Got it,” he shouted back, wrenching over the wheel and heading for the Russians in a breakneck charge.

  Mundt was manning the frontal MG42 and he emptied a belt at the Russians to keep their heads down. They ignored the machine gun bullets that buzzed all around them and started to deploy their own light machine gun, a Degtyarev DP with its round pancake magazine. Several rounds buzzed overhead before Mundt corrected his aim and fired off a hail of bullets that knocked out the gunner and wrecked the gun. Two heads popped up and started shooting at us, one had a PPSh sub machine gun, the other a Mosin-Nagant rifle, but the weight of machine gun fire was too much for them, the PPSh gunner was flung back when several rounds took him in the chest, the rifleman ducked back down. Then we were adjacent to the shell hole, we simply leaned over and poured fire down from our MP38s until the Russians were all dead.

  All around the battlefield our half-tracks were doing the same deadly task, protecting the attack from enemy infantry. We moved on to the next enemy position and proceeded to deal with it in the same way, it was brutally effective. Within a few minutes, hundreds of the enemy were dead or wounded, burnt out tanks and broken Russian artillery pieces littered the battlefield. Then the Russians hit back with the Katyushas. One moment the distant slope was empty of Soviet armour and then it was lined with thirty or more cumbersome looking lorries, each carrying the framework that supported the Katyusha rockets. When they opened fire it was devastating, the eerie ‘whoosh’ as they fired and hurtled over the battlefield, trailing smoke from their exhausts, then the explosion as they hit.

  “Should we take cover, Sir?” Mundt asked.

  I considered it for a second, then I saw the CO’s half-track rushing towards the far slope, accompanied by three other half-tracks.

  “No, head for the Katyushas, we’ll see if we can’t knock some of them out. Voss, move it!”

  He drove like a demon across the battlefield. Several times we passed pockets of Russians shooting at us, we fired again and again, both machine guns flat out to cause the maximum amount of death and destruction.

  “Merkel, the grenades, give them a present or two as we go by.”

  “Yes, Sir,” he grinned. He seemed to have recovered from that bad moment with the Bishop, I felt sorry for him if as I thought, a priest or a monk had abused him as a boy.

  His aim was devastating, we passed the first shell hole, the machine guns hammering at the defenders and Merkel simply leaned out and lobbed two stick grenades into their position. A few metres further on we heard the explosions behind us as another Russian irritant was removed from the battle. We had a bad moment when a small group of Russians launched an anti-tank rocket directly at us, we held our breath as it struck the rear bodywork of our half-track, then it went straight through the other side before impacting itself into the ground and exploding. It was a good omen, we were untouchable, we were the lords of the battle, the Soviets couldn’t even touch us. We caught up with Muller and the other half-tracks, two more joined us in our mad dash. He smiled across as he saw us. Then he bent down to use the radio fitted inside his vehicle. We were about two hundred metres away, the Katyushas had little hope of hitting us, several Russians had begun to shoot with rifles and sub-machine guns but the lorries were manoeuvring to turn around and flee. They had left it too late, within seconds we were among them. They had miscalculated badly, half of them were trying to flee, the other half trying to defend their position, they were in total chaos. We tore through them, machine gunning them and lobbing grenades amongst the soldiers and the vehicles. Several of them got away, driving crazily for the safety of a wood in the distance, but two STuGIIIs had come up to join our action and they fired shell after shell at the retreating Russians. I estimated that we had knocked out more than twenty of their Katyusha launchers, a considerable result. Then the tide of battle ebbed and the firing stopped, apart from the odd single shot.

  We spent some time on the battlefield, mopping up Soviet pockets of resistance and repositioning our defences against a possible Soviet counterattack, but we had scored a major victory, they were unlikely to be back. Muller called us in for a briefing.

  “I’ve heard good news over the radio, Der Fuhrer has wiped out two divisions of Soviet infantry and armour, virtually an entire army. We’ve done it, men, this is a major setback for the Soviets, they’ll think again before they launch any more attacks! Well done, all of you. We are moving to the outskirts of Kharkov, we’ll return to Korenevo first to collect the remainder of our people and supplies and then pull out. Next stop Kursk and then Moscow!”

  We all cheered, at last, through all the snow, the wet, the cold and the misery, all of the setbacks the regiment had suffered, we were back in the game. We drove back to Korenevo in triumph, I was convinced that nothing bad could happen now, but as I had learned, hubris is not a good thing. Laughing at the gods carries a strong risk that they’ll have the last laugh on you. So it proved. I was checking the inventory of our stores and equipment to make sure that nothing got left when we moved into Kharkov when I heard a voice from behind me.

  “An excellent result, Hoffman.”

  Von Betternich.

  “What can I do for you, Sir?”

  “I need an escort to take Wiedel and me back to speak to Standartenfuhrer Stettner.”

  “Sir, Der Fuhrer is in the middle of a fight against the Russians.”

  He smiled. “I have it on good authority that they won their action, like your own regiment. It seems that the Soviets have been driven away from the main areas of Kharkov, Der Fuhrer is even now being directed to set up their new position on the south western side of the city.”

  “We’re redeploying too, moving to our new camp.”

  “Of course you are, Hoffman. Fortunately our destinations are similar, Wiedel and I will accompany you, we just want you to detour to Der Fuhrer’s new camp on the way.”

  “We’re taking the half-track, Sir, it’s not very comfortable.” I was doing my best to dissuade him, our camp was in chaos as everyone prepared to move, it would be no less chaotic when we arrived at our new position, Der Fuhrer would be no different.

  “In that case the Kriminalkommissar and I are in for a bumpy ride. Shall we say one hour? That should give you time to refuel and re-arm, perhaps get something to eat as well. I understand the cookhouse has a good stew on offer today. The meat is even edible. Don’t worry about Muller, I’ll speak to him now.”

  He limped away smiling and left me cursing.

  An hour and a half later we were bumping along the trail towards Kharkov.

  “Is this business likely to take long?” I asked von Betternich.

  “Why, are you in a hurry, Hoffman?”

  “Only to get everything settled into our new quarters, Sir, otherwise no, of course not.”

&
nbsp; “I am pleased for you. Your pretty nurse is likely to be at Der Fuhrer Headquarters tending to the wounded.”

  “What? You mean Heide Thalberg, what the hell is she doing there?”

  “Der Fuhrer took heavy casualties during the battle. The hospital was overrun, literally no more space to attend to the wounded and so they sent out some nurses and a doctor to help on site, so to speak. They’ve set up a triage centre and an emergency operating theatre too, your friend is assisting.”

  I could hardly believe it. Yesterday I’d wondered if I would ever see her again, if I’d be killed or wounded in battle, if she would fall victim to an air raid. Now I was heading straight towards her, where she would be working. We arrived at their new camp, they had obviously suffered very badly, there were only six half-tracks that I could see in working condition, three more were being frantically repaired by the mechanics. The Headquarters building looked like an old barn, Stettner had set up his office inside and the wounded were being attended to in a huge white tent with a red cross on it. The duty officer told Von Betternich and Wiedel they would have to wait an hour to see Stettner as he was busy. They just smiled and nodded, and said they’d wait, it was no problem. Von Betternich suggested I find Heide, but to be back within the hour in case they needed me.

  I walked across the camp through rows of terrible devastation. Almost everything had been damaged during the fight, broken vehicles towed back to await repair, men lying in disconsolate positions on the ground in the snow. Even the unwounded seemed tired and demoralised beyond hope. Outside the Red Cross tent the wounded were a piteous sight, there must have been nearly a hundred men lying on the ground, just left in the snow. I went inside and walked straight into Heide. Her eyes were like saucers, as if I’d just landed from an alien planet.

  “Jurgen! What are you doing here?”

  I took her in my arms and held her to me, then I bent down and kissed her, ignoring the stares of the men around me. Amidst the death, the stink and the destruction it was like meeting a vision from a beautiful dream. I explained that I had been detailed to escort the SD and Gestapo. Her nose wrinkled in disgust.

  “It’s a pity, I wish you didn’t have to help those people. But enough of that, tell me how you are, did your regiment suffer badly?”

  “Nothing like this lot, no. We’re not too bad, just a few casualties.”

  “Until the next time.”

  “Heide, you shouldn’t worry, I told you I’d be ok.”

  “Don’t be crazy, of course I’ll worry, you can’t stop an artillery shell or a bomb with words, can you? None of us will be safe until this stupid war is over. Look at these poor devils here!”

  She forced me to look around. There were men with no arms, men with no legs, men blinded, men screaming in agony. It was sickening.

  “I have to get back,” she said, “they need me urgently, there are so many of them.”

  “Look, Heide, my regiment is camped nearby, I’ll try and get over to see you again tomorrow.”

  “We could be back in Kharkov General Hospital by tomorrow.”

  “In that case I’ll come and find you there. You can’t keep me away, you know.”

  She smiled, but it was a tired, wan smile. “I shan’t complain, then, Jurgen. Come back safe to me.”

  We exchanged kisses and she hurried away to deal with the wounded. I went back to the half-track to check on the men. Normally there would be plenty of banter between them and troopers from the other regiment, but not this time. I thought about Muller’s optimism. If many more of our troops were hit this hard, we would never even get to Kursk, let alone Moscow.

  Von Betternich and Wiedel were standing nearby, drinking mugs of coffee that one of my men had found for them. As usual, they were relaxed and calm.

  “How was your young lady, Hoffman?”

  I told them she was fine.

  “Good. We have a unique opportunity here, Der Fuhrer has taken a battering. It could be a good time to deal with Standartenfuhrer Stettner.”

  “Very well, Sir, what do you want me to do?”

  “Make sure that all your troopers are armed and prepared to move. I want the half-track kept manned and ready to leave at a moment’s notice, then you can accompany us, bring one of your men, Scharfuhrer Mundt would be a good choice, I think. I suggest you leave Oberschutze Voss in command.”

  “Right, Sir.”

  “And make sure that you and Mundt have your machine pistols with you.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  An orderly came out of the barn and told us that Stettner was ready to see us. We walked into the wooden building and into a separate room, it was like a storeroom that had been hastily set up for the CO to use. It was freezing cold there was no heater. I was amused to see Stettner still sat on the gilt throne. Like before, Sturmscharfuhrer Vinckmann was with him. In the corner, the Kar 98 rifle with the telescopic sight I’d seen before was leaning against a chair.

  “What can I do for you gentlemen that cannot wait?” Stettner asked.

  “It is quite simple,” von Betternich replied. “I have come here to recover a stolen artefact, a gold cross, a solid gold crucifix inlaid with precious stones.”

  Stettner stared at him, his gaze as cold as his office. Vinckmann shifted uncomfortably.

  “Why would I have such a thing?” Stettner asked.

  “Intelligence suggests that you do, Standartenfuhrer. Will you please hand it over to us?”

  “Damn you, von Betternich, you and your Gestapo friend! I haven’t got your cross and you can get out of my headquarters before I call my men to put you in chains for your damned impudence. I could have you shot!”

  Wiedel had moved next to Vinckmann. He pulled out his Walther and put it against the Sturmscharfuhrer’s body. “Vinckmann, would you prefer to cooperate with the Gestapo or would you prefer to risk being sent back to Berlin in chains for execution like your commanding officer?”

  “But, I don’t know anything...”

  “Shut up, Vinckmann!” Stettner snapped. He jumped up and made a grab for his machine pistol but Mundt and I were ready.

  “Stop, Sir,” I said to him. “Leave the gun, I’ll have to shoot you if you reach for it.”

  “You’ll never get away with this,” he snarled. “If I give the order my men will be all over you, you’ll never get out of here alive.”

  “We’ll see about that,” von Betternich said in a menacing tone. “Scharfuhrer Mundt, break open the base of that throne, let’s see what ‘King’ Stettner has been sitting on.”

  “Don’t you dare touch that throne,” he shouted, “I’ll have you shot if you go near it!”

  Mundt looked at me and I nodded. “Do it!”

  He smashed the butt of his machine pistol against the base of the throne several times before it splintered and a hole opened in the side. He gave it several more blows with the MP38 until the hole was wide enough to see inside. He put his hand in and withdrew it clutching the most beautiful object I’d ever seen, a richly jewelled crucifix, the metalwork had a dull yellow sheen, the sheen of solid gold. Vinckmann’s face fell, we all noticed. He obviously didn’t know.

  “Standartenfuhrer Stettner,” von Betternich said solemnly, “I arrest you on the charge of looting state property and murder. You will be returned to Berlin for trial. It may be that the SS want to try your case as a military matter but it is unlikely, I think the Gestapo will arrange everything. Do you wish to make a statement?”

  “Fuck off, Gestapo man,” Stettner hissed, “you won’t get ten paces from here before my men shoot you like rabbits!”

  “Put the handcuffs on him, Wiedel.”

  The Gestapo man stepped forward and put the manacles on Stettner’s wrists.

  CHAPTER TEN

  “The heaviest blow that ever struck humanity was the coming of Christianity. Bolshevism is Christianty's illegitimate child. Both are inventions of the Jew. The deliberate lie in the matter of religion was introduced into the world by Christia
nity. Bolshevism practices a lie of the same nature, when it claims to bring liberty to men, whereas in reality it seeks only to enslave them. In the ancient world the relations between men and gods were founded on instinctive respect. It was a world enlightened by the idea of tolerance. Christianity was the first creed in the world to exterminate its adversaries in the name of love. Its key note is intolerance. Without Christianity, we should not have had Islam. The Roman Empire, under Germanic influence would have developed in the direction of world domination and humanity would not have extinguished fifteen centuries of civilization at a single stroke. Let it not be said that Christianity brought man the life of the soul, for that was in the natural order of things.”

  Adolf Hitler July 1941

  “Well, that all went well, didn’t it?” von Betternich smiled.

  “Did it, Sir?”

  “Of course. Now, before we go any further, Sturmscharfuhrer Vinckmann, tell us what you know of this business?”

  “Nothing, Sir, absolutely nothing! Good God, I wouldn’t do anything like that, it’s sacrilege to steal from a church.”

  He crossed himself, the look of horror on his face was evidence enough, clearly he’d not known of his CO’s theft. And worse, the murders.

  “You are a sniper, Vinckmann. There have been some murders committed by a skilled marksman, what do you know about it?”

  “I’m a sniper, that’s true, it’s how I got my promotion to Sturmscharfuhrer. But murder? No, Sir.”

  “I thought not,” von Betternich said, “but in that case, I wonder who did do it?” he said it almost with the fake puzzlement way of a stage conjurer about to pull the rabbit from the hat. In the background, Stettner laughed, a grating, sneering laugh.

  “You should have got your act together before you got here, you clumsy oafs. Now you know that Vinckmann is not the sniper, how do you know that the real one is not outside waiting for you to leave the barn?”

  “Thank you for your warning, we will be sure to take precautions,” von Betternich said, still infuriatingly calm.