Devil's Guard- The Complete Series Box Set

by Eric Meyer

  So we found the best method was to strike like lightning before the enemy had time to pass the warning down the line. Hit them hard with everything we had before they even had time to finish a meal. It was, of course, a variant of the ‘Blitzkrieg’ principle we Germans had used in the Second World War.

  Blitzkrieg, or lightning war, was a term that described the force concentration of tanks, infantry, artillery and air power. Concentrating overwhelming force and rapid speed to break through enemy lines, and once the latter is broken, proceeding without regard to its flank. Through constant motion, the Blitzkrieg attempts to keep its enemy off balance, making it difficult to respond effectively at any given point before the front has already moved on.

  When Germany invaded Poland in 1939, Western journalists had adopted the term Blitzkrieg to describe this form of armoured warfare. The operations were very effective during the early Blitzkrieg campaigns of 1939 to 1941. They were dependent on surprise penetrations; like the penetration of the Ardennes forest region, general enemy unpreparedness and an inability to react swiftly enough to the attacker's offensive operations. During the Battle of France, French attempts to re-form defensive lines along rivers were constantly frustrated when our German forces arrived there first and pressed on.

  The gunner tapped me on the shoulder. He also served as the radio operator.

  “Message from the Captain to all vehicles, contact in five minutes.”

  I acknowledged the message and signalled to the men in the back. They nodded their understanding. They had each prepared their own firing position, with boxes and kitbags piled into protective emplacements. They crouched in readiness, weapons cocked, and grenades ready for instant use. The machine gunners constantly traversed around, checking for the smallest sign that would indicate an enemy target. Von Kessler was nearest to me in the back of the lorry, and he leaned over to speak to me.

  “Jurgen, I’m worried about Thien. If she’s a Viet Minh spy, then she can go to hell, but if not, I don’t want her shot out of hand,” he said.

  I looked at him carefully. The worry on his face would have been amusing in any other circumstances, the happy-go-lucky von Kessler showing concern for a native girl.

  “Look, Manfred, the girls will almost certainly be locked away somewhere. If one or both of them is wandering around freely, you know what that means, surely? If they’re given free run of their headquarters, it could only be because they are trusted members of the Viet Minh.”

  “Yes, but..”

  “No buts,” I interrupted him. “If that’s the case, they’re fair targets for our guns. If they’re locked away, they won’t get caught in any crossfire.”

  “I see, yes, I suppose you’re right. Dammit, Jurgen, I’m really attached to Thien. We made plans, you know, after the war,” he replied.

  I was surprised. “Plans, with a native girl? What kind of plans?”

  “We wanted to get married. We’d talked about settling down here, and perhaps buying a small plantation in the south, near Saigon, after my service was completed.”

  I looked at him. “Quite the romantic, Corporal? Don’t worry, it may never happen. Either way, you’ll know soon enough.”

  He looked downcast. “That’s what I’m worried about, Jurgen. Just, be careful, in case it’s not her.”

  “The men have all been briefed, Manfred, so if she’s innocent, there’s nothing to worry about.”

  I checked my watch. “About a minute to go, stand by. Tell the men to be ready.” He passed the word along, but there really was little need. They were all tense, waiting for the moment when we hit the enemy HQ. There was a bend in the road about a hundred metres ahead. I saw the Willys disappear around it and heard the distinctive clattering sound of the Browning .30 calibre as it opened fire. Then we were into the bend, and almost immediately, I could see our objective. It was a Buddhist temple, sure enough, quite a small one, but still it seemed sacrilegious to pervert it to the cause of war. The area around the building was occupied by dozens of Viets, most in uniform and carrying a weapon. I cursed our intelligence people. Not only had the cheeky bastards set up an HQ this close to Hanoi, but they were using it openly, perhaps daring the French to do anything about it.

  We called their dare. One by one, our trucks came into sight of the temple. The heavy machine guns opened fire, spraying thousands of rounds in a matter of less than a minute. Some of the Viets were running for cover. Others, too shocked to respond, just stood open-mouthed as our bullets took them, hurling them to the ground with the sheer weight of lead. The enemy went down as if scythed, and by the time we drew up to the temple, they were strewn all over the ground. I estimated over a hundred people dead. We dismounted from the vehicles and began deploying.

  It was a good plan, decided before we had left the barracks. The machine gunners stayed in their vantage points in the trucks. The rest of us split into groups of twenty, two groups taking the front and back of the temple, two groups checked the outbuildings and surrounding area, while the fifth group, my own with von Kessler, located the statue of Buddha. It stood at the side of the temple, looking solid and heavy, immovable. No wonder our troops had never found it in one of their searches.

  Thanks to Trinh, we knew that the appearance was deceptive. Von Kessler went straight to the hidden lever, moved it sideways and two of the men pushed hard on the statue. It tilted over smoothly and lay on the ground on its side, leaving an exposed hatchway. I looked in, and there were steps leading down. I signalled for the men to follow, then started on down. Von Kessler followed behind me.

  Almost immediately, we heard two voices, speaking in a fairly normal, relaxed tone of voice. It seemed that they were unaware of the attack above ground. Obviously, sound did not penetrate this subterranean complex.

  Corporal Dubois and Private Laurent, our experts with knives, were behind us. I whispered for them to come forward, and sent them to deal with the owners of the voices. If we could eliminate them silently, we would have a good chance of overrunning the underground HQ before they had time to destroy their papers and maps, and make a getaway. It was inevitable that they would have more than one escape hatch from this place. The two Arabs slipped forward, and there was the sound of a muffled cry, then silence. Dubois came back.

  “Both dealt with, Sergeant.”

  “Well done, Dubois.”

  I carried on down the stairway and around the corner into the softly lit gloom of the main passage. Laurent was dragging the second of the dead Viets into an opened out space at the side of the tunnel. It was probably used for storage. We were using it for storage too, but perhaps of a different kind than its original constructors envisaged. I took the lead again, and we pushed on down the tunnel. The rest of the men were close behind.

  We came across another open doorway in the side of the tunnel. Peering around the gap, I could see it was an armoury; rack upon rack of rifles and submachine guns. I recognised several of the weapons we used, MP40s, Kar 98s, and there were Russian made DP28 light machine guns. I even noticed what looked like a British Vickers Machine gun. Two Viets were busy at a bench. One was filing away at a piece of metal held in a vice, and the other was stripping a Kar 98, wiping it with an oily rag. I nodded at Dubois and Laurent and held up two fingers, two men to be exterminated. The Arabs edged forward and stepped quietly into the underground chamber, knives drawn. Both had almost reached their targets, slipping forward in a long, fluid movement, before the Viets even noticed them. I watched them operate; gracefully swaying forward with their knives held low at their sides, almost as if they were performing a ritual dance. The grace of the movements concealed the speed of their approach. Before the enemy even thought to respond, they were collapsing with their throats slit from side to side, blood gushing onto the armoury floor.

  I sent one of the men with a message to bring Petrov here. There was only one way to deal with this huge amount of ordnance; which was with his unique brand of explosives. Then we moved on, and we came to a side ro
om lined with bunk beds. It was a huge space. There must have been as many as thirty double bunk beds in there, all occupied, sixty of the enemy in all.

  Manfred and I covered the further reaches of the tunnel while the rest of the men went quietly in, their knives and sharpened bayonets drawn. The blades rose and fell. There was the occasional grunt, a muffled cry, or a sigh. It was surreal; a shadow dance of death played out in this gloomy cavern concealed beneath the jungles of Indochina. The men filed out, their grisly work done, and we moved on. We were nearly at the end of the tunnel, and just ahead we could see it opened out into a room that was brightly lit. We could hear voices. It was a miracle we had got so far undetected, but now it was time for a direct assault before the rats began to leave their lair. I checked behind me, and the men were all ready. I led them forward in a rush, and we surged into the main room.

  It was a more spacious than we had imagined, and about ten metres square. There were three doors, all closed. I signalled some of the men to go and cover them. Then I returned my attention to the occupants of the room. There were ten of them, Viets, and all uniformed except for one, who was clearly the leader. He recovered first from the shock and looked at me with ice in his stare. Some of the others started to grab for weapons, but at a word from him, they stopped and held up their hands. Except one, a young lieutenant, grabbed for his holstered pistol. Before he could even remove it from the holster several shots rang out, and he fell down, his body split open with the force of the bullets. The sound of the shots was massive in the enclosed space, and our ears rang for several minutes afterwards. Then it all went quite again.

  I gave orders for the men to secure the prisoners, and they were quickly tied with strong twine we carried with this for the purpose. The table in the middle of the room was covered in papers and maps, and there was one chair nearby. I ordered one of the men to gather up the papers, and I sat down, pointing at the man in civilian clothes.

  “You, what is your name, comrade?”

  He walked calmly over to me, his eyes watchful, but there was no fear displayed there. Even tied, it was obvious he was searching for any way to turn events to his advantage.

  “I am Trinh Ca Tam, Sergeant. I see you are Foreign Legion, from the local barracks in Hanoi, no doubt?”

  The bastard was even fishing for information as he answered me. I ignored him.

  “You are the Commissar of this outfit, I assume, Comrade Trinh?”

  He inclined his head gravely.

  “I see. Trinh, any relation to Trinh Van Dung?”

  He stood silently, but I could see his eyes change slightly at the mention of the name.

  “Or should I say, the unfortunate Trinh Van Dung?”

  That got to him. “You have killed Dung?”

  I smiled. “Who are you, his father, uncle, some other relation? No matter. We’re looking for two women, Thien and Mai, are you holding them here?”

  Again, Trinh gave no answer, but his eyes gave him away as they glanced in the direction of one of the doors.

  “Manfred, check that door, and be careful. See if the girls are inside, but remember, one of them is a traitor. Get some of the men to check inside the other doors. There may be other enemy troops that we haven’t accounted for.”

  Two men took each of the doorways, covering each other as they opened them and leapt though. One was a storeroom, filled with foodstuffs, clothing and ammunition. In the corner there was a simple hand operated printing press, a duplicator. I had seen the leaflets and newspapers that they produced on these primitive devices, and they were excellent propaganda tools for the Viet Minh. It would be good to put this one out of use. Another doorway led to a narrow tunnel. The troopers reported back that it led to the surface. Good, that was their escape route uncovered.

  Von Kessler rattled on the handle of the last doorway. It was locked.

  “The key, Comrade Trinh,” I said to the Commissar. He ignored me.

  “Corporal Dubois, kill the man standing next to the Commissar.”

  Dubois looked at me, surprised, then shrugged his shoulders, drew his knife and walked across to the man standing next to Trinh. A quick slash and the man lay dying on the ground, his blood leaving him as the spark of life departed from his body.

  “The key, Comrade Trinh,” I said again to the Commissar.

  “I can keep this up until they’re all dead, and then we’ll start on you.”

  He silently glanced down at the left hand pocket of his jacket. I reached in, found the key and gave it to Manfred. He opened the door cautiously, and with a cry, rushed forward. It was a radio room, clearly serving as a holding cell as well.

  Thien was lying on the floor, unconscious. Mai was sat next to her on the ground, her hands tied in front of her. Von Kessler rushed in and untied Mai, who painfully got to her feet. He called for a medic, picked Thien up and carried her into the main room, putting her gently on the table. The medic began checking out her wounds. She was covered in bruises and looked as if she has been systematically tortured for some time.

  I looked around the room for several minutes, noting that the radio was fairly modern and powerful with an aerial cable that led out of the room. Presumably, it was rigged in a tree somewhere up on the surface. Then I drew my pistol. A few minutes later, I went back into the main room.

  “Does that answer any questions about them?” Manfred asked me angrily.

  “Look at the state of them. There’s no way they are traitors. They’ve been badly abused.”

  “It does look that way,” I said to him.

  “Jurgen, thank God you got here,” Mai said suddenly. She was massaging her arms where they had been bound.

  “What happened, Mai?” I asked her.

  “They came to a bar where Thien and I were having a drink. We were just sitting there chatting when the Viet Minh, eight of them, burst into the bar and kidnapped us. They brought us here to question us about the Foreign Legion, and then they planned to kill us for being collaborators.”

  “It looks as if Thien has had a bad time of it. Why did they treat her so badly, and not you?”

  I looked at her eyes. Was that evasion I could see in there, or just fear after spending so much time waiting for torture and execution in this Viet Minh dungeon?

  She shook her head. “I honestly don’t know. I think that I would have been next, I suppose.”

  “You’d better take it easy for a bit,” I said to her, indicating the chair.

  “Just sit down while we have a little chat with Comrade Trinh. We’re clearing out anything of value while we’re waiting for Sergeant Petrov to arrive with his demolition charges, and then we can see about getting you home.”

  She sat down, near to Trinh.

  “Thank you, Jurgen, you’re very kind.”

  “Now, Trinh, how many underground bases do you have in the Hanoi area?”

  He smiled and said nothing. I showed him my pistol.

  “Comrade, I really don’t have time for this,” I shouted at him. I slashed the barrel of my gun across his face, drawing blood.

  “I need information, Trinh, so how many bases around Hanoi? Do you want me to introduce you to Corporal Dubois? Dubois, show this swine your knife.”

  The Arab produced his knife and flourished it at the Commissar, smiling.

  “He’ll take your ears off, then your toes, your fingers. He’ll cut you into tiny pieces, and you’ll still be alive to feel it all happening, Trinh. Now talk!”

  Trinh just stared back at me, silent. I slammed the gun down on the table, grabbing him by the lapels, and head butting him in the face. More blood streamed out of his smashed and broken lips, and several teeth had fallen out to the floor. I punched him in the face, the stomach, kneed him in the balls, and then gave him several more good uppercuts to the face. He grunted with the pain and almost fell, but two of my men held him on his feet. Von Kessler looked at me quizzically. I didn’t normally beat up bound prisoners, wondering what was so important about getting
this information out of Trinh now. I hoped it would be worth it.

  I slammed my fist into Trinh’s stomach again and two more blows to his face. His appearance was ghastly, covered in blood, both eyes closed, and his skin beginning to go dark where my blows had landed.

  “Talk to me, you bastard!” I shouted. “I want a number. How many bases are there?”

  Then I felt an arm around my neck, and the unmistakable pressure of a gun barrel against the small of my back.

  “Stop, Sergeant, leave him alone. You men, get back, or I’ll kill him!”

  It was Mai. She had grabbed my pistol from the table and had manoeuvred me around so that I was between her and my men.

  “Manfred, untie the Commissar, now, or Jurgen will be killed.”

  He looked desperately at me.

  “Don’t do it, Manfred. Mai, why are you doing this? Was it all a sham, you and Karl-Heinz Vogelmann?”

  She laughed.

  “Vogelmann? He was just another French killer, sent here to enslave the Viet people. Sure, I slept with him, but inside he made me sick. I was always waiting for the time when we could kill him and all of the French colonialists like him. Manfred, untie Commissar Trinh now, or Jurgen gets it. Hurry!”

  “What do I do, Jurgen?” Manfred asked, despair in his voice.

  “You do nothing,” I told him.

  “So Mai, you have always been Viet Minh. What about Thien?”

  “Her?” she laughed again. “A French whore, that’s all, the stupid cow. I used to pump her about the Legion’s operations on the pretext of concern about Karl-Heinz. She never even realised, but she soon will when she gets what’s coming to all collaborators, a bullet in the back of the neck. This is the last time, Manfred. Untie the Commissar, or Jurgen dies. Jurgen, order him to untie comrade Trinh, immediately!”

  “Go fuck yourself, Mai,” I replied calmly.