Devil's Guard- The Complete Series Box Set

by Eric Meyer

  Wiedel was ecstatic at our haul. He woke up his radio technician and told him to inspect it for clues. I took the opportunity to make our escape from the Gestapo and catch a lift back to Podvirky on a supplies truck heading to the railway yard. When I got into my bed I had no trouble sleeping that night. The next morning my platoon were all together, Voss and Bauer from guarding Nadia Vlasov and Mundt discharged himself from the sick bay, although he still walked with a decided limp.

  “I can’t stand those doctors, I’d sooner take on the Russians,” he said grimly.

  We spent the next two weeks struggling with every other available man to free Panzers and STuGIII assault guns from the mud. The Sturmgeschutz III assault gun was a powerful mobile gun, built on the chassis of the Panzer III. Initially intended as an armoured light gun for infantry support, we widely employed the STuGIII as a tank destroyer. Our self-propelled assault guns had proved invaluable. We often deployed them by night, hiding them behind camouflage or in specially dug pits or even in the thousands of narrow ravines that littered the steppe. Their fast, accurate fire had proved devastating and decisive in battle after battle and they were considered as vital as any of the Panzers. We were going to need every one we could get when the battle began. The pace was quickening everywhere as the High Command built up their forces for the coming battle. It was the middle of May and the spring rains and consequent mud were ending. We knew that it would be vital to attack before the Russians built their defences into overwhelming strength and were eagerly waiting for the order to deploy into the forward positions.

  We returned to our shabby billets in Podvirky at the end of one particularly hard day. While attempting to lay a roadway of logs to prize a Panzer IV out of the wet clay that gripped it, we were suddenly attacked by low flying Soviet fighters. Fortunately they hadn’t carried bombs, but after the flight of four aircraft had finished shooting up the area with machine gun and cannon fire dozens of our men lay dead in the brown, Ukrainian earth, never to see their homeland ever again. The constant fear of attack, the delays in setting a date for our own assault on the salient and the constant filth, grime and shortages of the Eastern Front was taking its toll. The air attack seemed to knock the stuffing out of all of us. Why can’t we just attack the bastards? That was the question on everyone’s lips. When we got back, von Meusebach was waiting for us together with another SS officer.

  “Men, this is the commanding officer of our Second SS Division Das Reich. Gruppenfuhrer Walter Kruger has a few words to say to us.”

  Kruger stood to address us. He was lean and hard, every inch the fighting soldier, his Knight’s Cross with Oak Leaves and Swords a testament to his bravery.

  “You have all worked hard to prepare for this attack and there is no doubt that we shall unleash a storm that will drive the Soviets back to Moscow and beyond, a storm they will never forget!”

  A few men cheered, but most of us had heard it all before.

  “The attack has been postponed for several weeks.”

  He was drowned out by a series of shouts, groans and catcalls. He held up his hand.

  “This is by order of the Fuhrer. I know you are disappointed, but we are awaiting deliveries of the new Panzer V. When these new tanks are deployed we will be smash through the Soviets, we’ll beat them and drive on to Moscow!”

  He paused, waiting for applause for his fighting rhetoric. There was silence. He had effectively told us that the High Command was giving the Russians more time to prepare their massive defences. I hoped that the Panzer Vs would be as effective as they hoped, and that they would be able to cope with the hundreds more T34s that we were giving the Russians time to produce and deploy on the battlefield. Kruger carried on talking for a few minutes more and then quickly ended his talk.

  I was weary of the constant battle to wrestle the armour off the flatcars and then to be called to wrestle them out of the mud that seemed to trap the unwary driver at every opportunity. I decided enough was enough. I was going into the city for the evening. I put my head under the cold pump and enjoyed my usual cold shower, Mundt cranked the handle for me so that I could crouch down and let the ice cold water pour over my head. I put on my uniform, brushed it off, wiped a rag over my jackboots and went outside. Mundt was waiting in the Kubelwagen with Bauer and Voss.

  “We need to drive into the city to collect the mail, Sir, I thought you might like a lift.”

  “I thought the mail came yesterday?”

  He kept a straight face. “I’m sure that more will have arrived today.”

  I couldn’t help but smile, it was the flimsiest of excuses, but it would have to do. I climbed in and we roared off.

  “We need to return before midnight, Willy, otherwise we could all be posted AWOL.”

  “I know that. We’ll collect you at eleven, shall we say outside the Hotel October?”

  I nodded. The Scharfuhrer could be a mind reader sometimes.

  The reception clerk in the hotel confirmed that Nadia Vlasov was still staying at the hotel, they'd moved her to room 417 while they repaired the damage done to room 412. I thanked him and ran up the stairs, I didn’t even bother with the lift, even if they’d got it working it would probably break down. Nadia answered the door when I knocked, her eyes widened with surprise.

  “Jurgen, you took your time getting back.”

  “It’s the war, Miss Vlasov.”

  “Call me Nadia.” She reached forward and pulled me into the room, her mouth clamped on mine. “I’ve been expecting you.”

  We undressed each other with shaking hands. I showered her with kisses and stroked her beautiful, perfect but tiny body. Then we made love, a warm journey of pleasure and exploration as we each discovered the other’s body. Afterwards, I lay on my back and she put her head on my chest.

  “Can’t you move into Kharkov, Jurgen? We could see each other more often, I’ve been lonely here on my own.”

  I looked down at her face, I only wished I could. Our dirty little hovel in Podvirky was hard to bear, but I explained to her that we didn’t have much of a choice where we were posted.

  “Why not join the Gestapo, then? Those two men, Wiedel and the one with the limp have been here talking to me.”

  “That’s von Betternich, he’s SD, not Gestapo.”

  “What’s the difference?” she asked.

  “It’s slightly complicated, but here goes,” I grinned, enjoying our conversation. She was perceptive enough to know how much I loved talking and explaining things to her. “The RSHA, the Reich Main Security Office known as the Reichssicherheitshauptamt is an organisation subordinate to Reichsfuhrer Himmler in his dual capacities as the Chief of German Police, Chef der Deutschen Polizei and Reichsfuhrer-SS. The duty of the RSHA is to fight enemies of the Reich both inside and outside the borders of Germany. The organisation is divided into seven main offices, or Amts. Amt IV, Geheime Staatspolizei is the Gestapo, headed by SS-Gruppenfuhrer Heinrich Muller. Amt VI, the SD, is led by SS-Brigadefuhrer Walter Schellenberg. It is the foreign intelligence service of the SS.”

  I smiled, it sounded long-winded. “But I guess they do much the same job, they don’t usually tell me much of what they’re up to.”

  She put her hand up and stroked my hair. I wished we could stay like this always, that there would be no war raging outside this room.

  “They seem to know a lot about you, Jurgen, they’ve mentioned you several times.”

  I was about to ask her what they’d said when there was a hammering on the door. I put a towel around my waist and jumped up to answer it, Mundt stood there. “It’s a general alert, the Soviets have counterattacked at Belgorod. We’re needed.” He smiled at my semi-naked body.

  “I’ll be down in one minute, Willy.”

  I raced to throw my uniform on. “I don’t know when I’ll see you again, Nadia. If the Soviets break through, get out of the city fast.”

  She nodded. “I’ll do that, try not to get yourself killed, Jurgen.”

  “I onl
y wish the Russians would listen.”

  I pulled on my jackboots, grabbed my weapons and helmet and rushed down the stairs and outside. They were waiting in the Kubi with the engine running, I leapt in and we roared off. The journey back to Podvirky was chaotic, armour and infantry trucks driving at high speed towards Belgorod. We bounced and slewed all over the road, trying to avoid the worst of the potholes, but the mud had mainly tried. Why hadn’t our Intelligence units alerted us before that an attack was now possible? We screeched to a halt, left the Kubi in the vehicle park and ran to the assembly point outside HQ. Von Meusebach was shouting streams of orders to men who ran in what seemed like random directions. He saw me and shouted.

  “Hoffman, where have you been?”

  “Gestapo business, Sir.”

  He nodded. “Very well, get your platoon into your half track, you’re just in time, we leave in five minutes.”

  Mundt was already herding the men together, we ran for the half-track and climbed in, Bauer started the engine and we were ready to leave. The men were still putting on their kit, webbing belts, helmets and gas mask containers, although most of those contained other things, the threat from gas didn’t seem likely to materialise. Von Meusebach stepped carefully through the mud and boarded his armoured reconnaissance vehicle, the SD 232 Six wheeler. Armed with a two-centimetre gun in the turret and additional MG34 machine gun, the vehicle carried a large radio aerial array over the turret that would enable the commander to keep control of his forces by radio. The CO’s head stuck out of the turret, he presented a very heroic figure with his cap set at a jaunty angle, evidently deciding to forego the security of a steel helmet for the time being. We were all waiting lined up outside the Regimental HQ without engines running, waiting to leave when two men dashed out with cameras, they were SS-Kriegsberichter, war correspondents and photographers. They spent several minutes taking pictures of the head of the column, especially von Meusebach, they then waved and disappeared back into the building. The CO removed his cap, donned his steel helmet and dropped down into the turret, closing the hatch with a clang. The armoured car drove away and we followed, none of the men said a word about delaying the column for the photographs, but a very definite picture of von Meusebach was emerging.

  We reached the outskirts of Belgorod and stopped, we were parked in a large, open area with several squadrons of Panzer IVs and Tigers and two StuGIII assault guns. The CO popped open his hatch and climbed down to speak with the tankers and then came over to us.

  “The Red Army is trying to break through on a five kilometre southern flank of the city, our task is to support the Panzers while they drive them back. Keep a tight formation on my vehicle. I want half of the regiment in front of me and half behind. I will keep control from the centre. Form up, we’ll follow the Panzers in.”

  We boarded our half-tracks and waited, but not for long. The Panzers’ engines roared and they surged away along a narrow lane that skirted the southern part of the city. We travelled for three kilometres without incident when abruptly we ran into the Soviets, a column of T34s complete with tank riders heading straight for us. Our units went straight into action, the STuGIIIs deployed one to each of the flanks, the Tigers formed a diamond formation and the Panzer IVs tucked in behind the security of the Tigers’ heavier armour. They were already firing, shells landed amongst the Russians and the T34s started hitting back. Bauer pulled the wheel over and we steered for the shelter of a nearby ravine, a shallow dried up riverbed that would offer us some protection from the worst of the Russian fire. I jumped down to look for Soviet anti-tank guns or infantry carrying man-portable anti-tank rifles. The tank riders were already jumping down off their tanks, disappearing into shallow dips and holes in the ground. It was our turn to take action, our Tigers and Panzer IVs would be decimated if they organised their anti-tank fire.

  Then it happened, the Soviet infantry started to push the distinctive long barrels of their PTRDs out of the foxholes ready to engage our armour. The PTRD-41 Soviet Anti Tank Rifle was a single-shot weapon which fired a 14.5mm round. It was too light to penetrate the frontal armour of our tanks but it could penetrate the thinner sides of our smaller, more lightly armoured tanks and self-propelled guns.

  I pointed to a nearby Russian position, Bauer swerved the half-track out of the ravine and we charged towards the enemy. Too late, they were concentrating on one of our Panzers and we were on them before they realised we were there. Mundt and Voss poured fire down onto them from our front and rear mounted MG34s, then a hail of bullets slashed at us from another foxhole that was only ten metres from us. We ducked down as the Soviet gunner emptied his clip and us, fortunately they hade a Degtyarev light machine gun, the one we nicknamed the record player. It was lethal in use, but when the 47 round pancake magazine ran out it was very slow to load. The gunner was inexperienced and his burst went wide of us, I peeped over the top of the half-track and saw him start to reload. I pointed to Beidenberg, “Bring three of the men, let’s get them now!”

  I didn’t wait for him to acknowledge, we only had seconds to act. I leapt over the top of the half-track and started to run, within seconds I was almost on them, the gunner was still reloading but there were three other infantrymen in the hole. I pointed my MP38 and pulled the trigger, but in the heat of the action I’d forgotten the cardinal rule with Hugo Schmeisser’s iconic design. The long clip of ammunition that extended under the weapon was not a good fit and the slightest movement meant that bullets would not feed into the chamber. I’d gripped the gun by the clip and when I pulled the trigger nothing happened. It was like a moment frozen in time, I stood there stupidly holding my useless machine pistol, the Russian machine gunner frantically rammed the new pancake clip onto his gun, his three companions brought up their cumbersome Moisin Nagant rifles ready to shoot. I dived to the side just as the first of the bullets whizzed through the air past my ear. The other two riflemen stood up to aim at me as I rolled away, but Beidenberg and the other troopers rushed up and fired repeatedly at the Soviets. The four of them were hurled to the floor of the foxhole, Josef helped me up and we ran back to the relative safety of the half-track.

  Two more of our STuGIII self-propelled guns had arrived and were picking off the T34s one by one as the Tigers and Panzer IVs roamed the battlefield like game beaters, pushing them out of concealed pockets, breaking up their formations and blasting them with highly accurate bursts of the Tiger’s powerful 88mm gun. We didn’t have it all our own way, the Soviets set up a battery of heavy anti-tank artillery on a distant ridge and started to pour fire on our armour, a Tiger and two Panzer IVs exploded before the STuGIIIs turned their fire on the ridge and started to punish the Russians. The T34s started to retreat, it had been a scrappy affair and they had never looked like breaking through our armour, at least not in our small sector of the Soviet attack. As I looked anxiously around the battlefield for any signs of Soviet survivors, I saw the CO, von Meusebach, or at least I saw his armoured car, sheltering in a deep ravine, the hatches battened down so that they would have found it impossible to take any active part in the battle. It seemed that our new CO was not particularly keen to risk taking any enemy fire, or indeed on firing on the enemy himself. Apart from his caution, we had inflicted casualties on Russian men and armour, for their part they no doubt succeeded in what they were looking to achieve, an estimate of our fighting strength and abilities with which to judge their tactics for the coming battle.

  We pulled away slowly, careful to watch for possible Soviet trickery, they were adept at throwing men and machines into pointless attacks so that they could draw out attention away from their real objective. I half expected another part of our front to be under attack, Kharkov or even the important railhead at Podvirky, but when we returned it was all quiet. The Tigers dispersed around the village for both camouflage and to defend the railhead, the crews had set up a barrel of beer that they’d ‘liberated’ from some local bar. They invited us to join them for a drink and we stood swilling dow
n the local brew, it was alcoholic but there was nothing else to commend it.

  I chatted to a Tiger commander from one of our SS Panzer battalions, a Sturmscharfuhrer August Just, both of us pulling faces at the appalling flavour of the Ukrainian beer.

  “I think we all got a good taste of what is to come.”

  He grimaced. “If it ever comes, the talk now is of postponing it until July.”

  I nearly choked on my beer as a gulp went down my windpipe. It was astonishing news.

  “Which bloody idiot made that decision? We’re almost giving it to the Soviets on a plate. Don’t they know what’s going on over there in the salient?”

  “I believe his name if Adolf Hitler,” the tanker replied drily.

  I looked around, but no one seemed to be listening to our conversation. “So he still insists on waiting for the deliveries of these Panzer Vs, he won’t budge?”

  He shook his head. “No chance. Every commander in this theatre of war has tried to persuade him to move, von Manstein even. Paul Hausser flew to Berlin to make the case, but Hitler still insists that we must have the Panzer Vs before we move.”

  “Look, August, I’ve been over the other side on reconnaissance missions, they’re building defences up like you wouldn’t believe. Now that the muddy season is ending they’ll be redoubling their efforts, it’ll be sheer hell when we go over there.”

  “I know that, we all know that, but we’re stuck here until we get the order to go.”

  He looked me in the eye and I knew exactly what he meant. The waiting would result in massively higher casualties. Neither of us really expected to survive the coming battle against the massed might of the Soviet mechanised hordes.

  Chapter Six

  ‘The battle is going very heavily against us. We're being crushed by the enemy weight...We are facing very difficult days, perhaps the most difficult that a man can undergo’.