The Old Hunter

Bundesarchiv¹

They had crossed into Belgium three kilometers east of the French border town of Ohain. The squad had made very good time, the lieutenant figured there were two reasons for that, the men knew they were getting closer to their destination and the American rations they had captured had boosted both their stamina and their morale.

The skies had been clear, allowing them to benefit from what little starlight there was. It wasn't totally dark so they made use of the farm fields in the area to travel faster. The lieutenant began to look for a good spot to reenter the woods, they might be able to make another ten kilometers under the cover of the woods, the pre-dawn light would help them. So von Lüttwitz hoped.

Military traffic was non-existent, though they were avoiding the roads as much as possible due to the incident with the Americans the previous day. The lieutenant assumed that most military traffic would be on the main highways to Brussels and Antwerp. Although the German Army had pushed through the Ardennes in 1940, that had been something of an anomaly, the French manned it lightly, expecting a replay of the opening moves of 1914. They had been sorely surprised.

So he discounted the Ardennes as an area of heavy military concentration. He expected outposts and a thinly manned and lightly patrolled line. He was assuming a great deal, but that was really their only hope. Further north in Belgium and into the Netherlands the fighting would be heavy. It was, after all, a quicker way to get over the Rhine than to try and  fight through the forests of the Ardennes and the Schnee Eifel.

The open fields and rolling terrain of Wallonia

(Source)

As the sun was beginning to rise in the east, the lieutenant checked his map, they had to be close to the Belgian town of Viroinval, which means they had put nearly sixty kilometers behind them. It also meant that they might be able to reach Rochefort the next night, that was his target. Once they reached that town, and if they had not struck the German lines, he would determine what to do next. They were within 100 kilometers straight line distance of the Reich. No doubt further on foot, but they were tantalizingly close.

Unteroffizier Schumacher spotted it first, "Herr Leutnant, perhaps a good place to get out of the open," he was gesturing to his left. Sure enough, there was a small dirt track leading into some rather thick woods. It would be perfect.

Leutnant von Lüttwitz, pointed the way and signaled the men to remain in skirmish order. He was taking no chances.

On the far right of the line, Grenadier Hans Pfeiffer was scanning his sector, he paused, he thought he saw someone. At that moment he felt something tug at his right trouser leg, then he heard the crack of a rifle, damn it! He had been shot. He went down as his leg gave out from under him.

(Source)

Henri Desjardins lowered his old hunting rifle and fumbled in his jacket pocket for another bullet. Though he was very spry for a 75 year old man, his eyesight wasn't as good as it used to be. In the morning light he saw something low and gray moving towards the forest. It had to be a boar or a deer. At any rate, it was food on the table. So he fired. Why would people be out here at this time of the day?

He began to move towards where he'd seen the animal go down, he heard no noises so he assumed that he had killed it with his first shot. He stepped carefully, truth be told, his eyes were not as strong as they once were, the ground here was uneven and in the early morning light he couldn't see where he was stepping.

When he got to the spot where he expected to find his kill, he was startled when his "kill" leapt at him.

Pfeiffer was in a lot of pain, he had tied off his leg at the thigh with a makeshift tourniquet by using the strap from his bread bag and the cleaning rod from his K98k. He wondered who had shot him and why. He also wondered what the Hell he was going to do now, there was no way he could travel on one leg, he needed medical attention, soon.

As he waited, he heard someone approaching through the high grass. It was a man, and he sounded old. He also seemed to be muttering in French. Damn it, Pfeiffer thought, to come all the way from Normandy and get shot by the Maquis in Belgium. He drew his fighting knife.

As the man stepped to where he could see Pfeiffer, his eyes grew very big as he spotted the man he'd shot, he tried to bring his old hunting rifle to bear, but Pfeiffer was faster. His knife slid into the old man's chest between two ribs and into his heart. The old man seemed to sigh as he went limp, dropping his rifle and falling across the downed German soldier.

Leutnant von Lüttwitz and the rest of the squad had immediately gone to ground upon hearing the shot, "Verdammte Scheiße!" the lieutenant had thought, "What now?" He maneuvered, as he knew his men would, to reorient the skirmish line towards the direction of the shot. The direction of the threat.

Grenadier Manfred Sauer had been closest to Pfeiffer when the shot rang out. Crawling to his right, he attempted to get to where he could see Pfeiffer and perhaps see the one who had fired the shot. He heard someone, had to be a man, a very clumsy man, coming through the grass, which puzzled him, who would fire a shot at them and then rush right in?

Hunters!

When he heard a short scuffle, a gasp and then someone swearing in German, he realized Pfeiffer must have dispatched the threat. Cautiously he moved towards Pfeiffer. When he got there, he saw a lot of blood on and around Pfeiffer, most of it was probably from the dead man Pfeiffer was trying to push off of him.

"Good Lord man, what the Hell are you playing at?" Sauer helped Pfeiffer get the dead man off, he noticed that it was an old guy, he also saw the ancient hunting rifle. Then he noticed the tourniquet on Pfeiffer's leg. Not all of the blood had been from the dead hunter.

"I'm hit Manfred, pretty bad. This old bastard probably thought I was a deer or something. He's probably dead blind.² Damn it, that hurts, stupid Belgian bastard." He snarled as he struck the corpse.

Leutnant von Lüttwitz assessed the situation, there was no way that Grenadier Pfeiffer was going any further. They had to be into the trees and soon, no doubt the old Belgian would be missed and someone would come looking for him. As he looked around, Pfeiffer spoke up.

"You have to leave me Herr Leutnant. There is no way I can travel. Here, take my ammunition, the rifle too. I have no more need of it. You must go!" Pfeiffer nearly shoved his rifle at the lieutenant. Sauer was helping him out of his gear, taking everything but his bread bag.

Leutnant von Lüttwitz looked at Pfeiffer for a long moment, he noticed that the rest of the squad had already disappeared into the edge of the wood. Only Sauer waited with him. Pfeiffer mouthed, "GO" and then pointed at the forest.

The lieutenant gripped Pfeiffer by the shoulder and squeezed. He and Pfeiffer were all that was left of the old 1st Platoon. They'd left 27 men in Russia, had received replacements, then lost all but the two of them on the beaches of Normandy, through Falaise, and the long agony of the retreat across the Seine.

"Bis nächstes Mal, Herr Leutnant³. It was an honor serving with you." They shook hands and the lieutenant was gone. Only Sauer lingered.

"You're a good man Hans, I hope the Americans capture you and not the Belgians."

"Ja, me too. I doubt the Belgians will be happy finding me with a dead Belgian."

"Tschüss."

With that last "bye" Sauer was gone, Pfeiffer was alone.

So close to home, yet so far.

¹ Yes, I know the machine gun is an MG 34 and not an MG 42, there are only so many usable pictures on the Internet. Plus, I really liked the photo.

² In German, "stockblind," the equivalent of "blind as a bat."

³ See you next time.