Retribution

Bundesarchiv

Major Jürgen von Lüttwitz stood by the side of the road and watched as his men moved past him, they were headed back to Germany. Hitler's great offensive had failed. Out of 527 men, he was bringing back only forty-three. He was sure that some of those men were still alive, somewhere, but of the various components of his former Kampfgruppe, all that was left were the remnants of the 1st Company.

He noted with some satisfaction that the men had gathered a number of carts, the ubiquitous Infanteriekarren, If. 8s which every infantry company in the Wehrmacht was supposed to have seventeen of, normally drawn by horses but designed to be drawn by men if need be. They had found a number of them abandoned along the road back to Losheimergraben. So they appropriated them. That had been Sauer's idea.

When von Lüttwitz had first met Manfred Sauer, the man had been a simple soldier, content to follow orders and do his job, no more, no less. But in the retreat across France the man had proven himself to be a force of nature when he put his mind to it. From grenadier to lieutenant, Sauer had proven his worth over and over. Von Lüttwitz realized that he couldn't have done it without Sauer there to back him up.

"Wool gathering Herr Major?" Sauer had come back down the road looking for his commander.

"Perhaps, I'm thinking of the retreat across France, then again, I'm remembering that first winter in Russia as well. Retreating is never easy, but it's a damned sight harder in winter!"

"Yes it is. I've halted the column, there's something going on farther up the road you need to see."

As the two men started walking towards the head of the column, von Lüttwitz asked Sauer what he had seen. "Roadblock, looks like the Sicherheitsdienst, they seem to be stopping all movement to the rear. No doubt looking for deserters is my guess." Sauer explained.

"SS bastards!" Was all von Lüttwitz had to offer.

When they reached a point where they could see the roadblock, von Lüttwitz noted that there were a number of figures lying in the snow, off to the side of the road. He used his field glasses to study the situation, the arrogant bastards actually had a fire going in a empty oil drum next to the road. There was a halftrack nearby, its machine gun not manned at the moment. There were ten men in the group, one officer that he could see.

"Looks like they've been dispensing some 'field justice' by the looks of those bodies. It's hard to tell, but not all of them are soldiers. I'd swear they've been shooting civilians as well." The disgust and contempt in Sauer's voice was obvious.

After a few moments of watching, von Lüttwitz turned to Sauer and said, "Take Torsten's squad, have the MG 42 set up to cover the road from..." von Lüttwitz paused, "Do you see that small group of pines to the right?"

Sauer swung his glasses in that direction, "Yes Sir, I see it. I'll have Meissner make his move from there. I'll take the rest of the men right down the road..."

"No, I want you with Meissner, if those SD bastards try anything, gun them down, no mercy. Germany already has much to answer for, I'll not be a part of their crimes." von Lüttwitz made it very clear, he wanted to kill these men who followed the fighting troops into action and terrorized those behind the lines. "Cowards, all of them."

As Sauer and Meissner began to move out, the men heard a noise which was unmistakable, a tank coming down the road.

"Hold up Manfred, that sounds like one of ours. What deviltry is afoot, I wonder?"

Von Lüttwitz and his men moved off the road.

Bundesarchiv

"Slow down, Hans, there's something in the road ahead." SS-Scharführer Klaus Winkmann of the 9th SS Panzerdivision 'Hohenstauffen' had his head part way out of his hatch. He didn't wish to be blind, nor over exposed to enemy rifle fire. This uncomfortable position was a compromise.

He watched as his driver, SS-Rottenführer Kurt Zerbst, slowed the big Panther. Winkmann was furious to be ordered back to the division's assembly area. The Amis were attacking and his battalion commander wanted at least one tank back at the regimental depot to defend it. Winkmann had a squad of SS Panzergrenadiers riding on the back and they weren't happy about this mission either, and now this, apparently a roadblock set up by their own people.

"Willi, get on your gun, I'll brook no nonsense from these rear area types." SS-Sturmmann Wilhelm Kleist worked the bolt on his machine gun and looked out of his periscope in the bow of the tank. Whatever Winkmann wanted, Kleist approved of, they'd been fighting together in the same outfit since Normandy.

As the tank slowed, Winkmann noticed a man step into the road, he was signaling them to stop. Winkmann then noticed the bodies off to the side, civilians and military. He also noticed the small diamond on the man in the road's sleeve. Sicherheitsdienst!

"Where do you think you are going Sergeant?" The man asked with a certain degree of arrogance, typical for these swine, Winkmann thought.

"We're under orders, now if you men will move that halftrack out of the way, we'll be on our way."

In his headset Winkmann heard his gunner, SS-Rottenführer Egon Hartz say, "We couldn't be better positioned Klaus, I've got Panzergranate up the spout and the fool in the halftrack is in my sights."

"Stand by Egon." Winkmann murmured into the intercom.

"I'll need to see your papers Sergeant." The SD man insisted.

"I'm with Hohenstauffen, we've been ordered back to our depot. Don't you know there's a war on, man?"

Another man stepped into the light from the fire burning in the oil drum. "Is there a problem here Oberscharführer?" Winkmann saw the insignia of an officer on the man's collar, perhaps an Untersturmführer.

"These men seem sketchy to me, Sir. I think they are retreating without authorization."

Winkmann again murmured into the intercom, "Kill them."

The gun on the tank barked, the concussion from it knocked the two SD men standing in the road to the ground. The round from the cannon hit the halftrack in the engine compartment and then ricocheted through the driver's compartment and into the passenger section. The man who had been manning the machine gun mounted on the roof was torn in half as the antitank round went through him.

The infantry on the back of the Panther opened fire at the SD men standing by the road, not one of them was left alive. Kleist's machine gun finished the men jumping from the burning halftrack.

"Let's roll Hans, I want to be at the depot before daylight."

The big Panther jerked into motion, its tracks taking a second to get a grip on the icy road. Winkmann thought he heard a scream as the tank rolled over the two men in the road.

"SD bastards." Winkmann spat over the side as his vehicle pushed the burning halftrack off the road.

"What did I just see, Herr Major?" Sauer was amazed at what he had just seen, a Panther from seemingly out of nowhere had dealt with the roadblock which they had planned to destroy if their passage had been contested.

"I guess the panzer boys are in a hurry to get somewhere, I wonder where they got the fuel from?" von Lüttwitz didn't really care what the men in and on the Panther had done to the SD men, in fact, he felt a certain satisfaction in having witnessed the incident.

"Wow, I think we need to put some distance between us and this mess, Herr Major." Unteroffizier Torsten Meissner understood the officers' fascination with what they had just witnessed, but if there were more SD or SS men in the area, he didn't like their chances of not being blamed for this. Even if it was obvious that a tank had killed the roadblock.

"Yes, I'm glad you're paying attention, Torsten. Let's get the men moving."

As they passed the burning ruin of the roadblock, Sauer noticed that the two men in the road had been crushed by the tracks of the Panther. He also noticed that there were a number of women and children among the dead beside the road. He spat on the SD officer's corpse.

"Rot in Hell you Nazi bastard."

As each man passed the spot, each spat on one corpse or the other. One man spat on both, and kicked both for good measure.

"I think they're dead, Gregor." One man quipped.

Grenadier Gregor Fittkau, whose fiancé had been arrested, and shot, by the Gestapo for 'defeatism,' simply kicked the dead officer once more and said, "Not dead enough."

As the day grew lighter, the destroyed roadblock was already being covered in fresh snow. Just another atrocity in a world gone mad.

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