Ambush

(Source)

Soldat Jean-Yves Cahun had at first counted himself lucky to have slipped out of the German encirclement of Dunkirk. He had assumed that the Royal Navy would only be taking off British soldiers from the beaches. He had been wrong, French troops had been evacuated as well. But the vast majority of them had been returned to France within hours. They had escaped captivity at Dunkirk, but faced a renewed German onslaught.

Out of the frying pan and into the fire as the Yanks might say, Jean-Yves thought. Though the French expression "aller de mal en pis¹" was far more accurate and succinct.

Two days ago, after escaping from Dunkirk, Jean-Yves had made contact with a group of soldiers that he initially thought were French. Their sergeant spoke French, but with an odd accent, well, odd to Jean-Yves. For all he knew the man could have been from a section of France he didn't know, speaking a dialect he had never heard. But when two of the other men had laughed at the look on his face and began talking in a language unfamiliar to him, he was completely confused. Until the sergeant noticed his confusion.

"Ah, you think we are French, yes? We are Polish and we too are lost."

Jean-Yves looked even more puzzled until the sergeant explained, "We are with Sikorski, 10th Armoured Cavalry Brigade. We were on a training course when the Germans entered Belgium. We've been trying to rejoin our unit which was outside Reims the last we knew."

"You're a long way from home Sergent, Reims is a good 150 kilometers from here." Jean-Yves pointed out.

"Warszawa further still." the sergeant said in a voice filled with despair.

Before Jean-Yves could reply, the sergeant continued, "We were driven out of our homeland by the Niemcy, now it appears that France is falling as well. We had thought to go to Dunkirk and leave with the English, but were too late." Pausing, the sergeant looked at the rifle Jean-Yves held.

"Do you know how to use that?"

Jean-Yves simply nodded, he felt no need to explain himself to these men. Though he did note that the Poles were all carrying the MAS-36, the same rifle as his own. Which eased his concerns about obtaining ammunition. The MAS-36 was intended to replace the older rifles still in use but issue wasn't all that widespread.

"I've killed Boches with this rifle, how are you lads fixed for ammunition?"

"We have plenty, we have yet to encounter any of the Niemcy. How much do you need?"

"Twenty rounds, if you can spare them."

"Where are you headed Soldat? Are you planning on killing more of these Boches, as you call them?"

Jean-Yves grinned, then said, "You boys feel like going hunting?"

The Poles all nodded.

Jürgen was dozing in the passenger seat of the LKW², his squad had been selected to provide the escort for a supply convoy moving up to the front. He had no problems with that, it certainly beat walking.

Officially the 2nd and 3rd Squads had been combined, the platoon was at half strength for now. Bernd Osterfeld had 1st Squad, Jürgen the 2nd, the other platoons in the company were also short of men. Replacements were promised but were not yet forthcoming.

Oberschütze Leon Schwarz, Wittman's old assistant, had recruited a couple of men from another company during a pickup football³ match. Leutnant Acker, upon seeing the records of the men Schwarz brought in, stated, "No wonder 3rd Company was glad to be rid of these two." For in truth, neither Schütze Christian Möller nor Schütze Martin Busch would ever be mistaken for choir boys.

"Don't worry Herr Leutnant, these lads are from my village, they're good lads, I'll keep them in line." Schwarz had assured his lieutenant. While skeptical Acker decided, "Why not? We need the bodies." So von Lüttwitz's squad had an extra man.

Now the squad looked like this:

• Fahnenjunker-Unteroffizier Jürgen von Lüttwitz, Squad Leader
• Obergefreiter Sepp Wittman, Assistant Squad Leader
• Oberschütze Leon Schwarz
• Schütze Bodo Hermann
• Schütze Michael Offenbach
• Schütze Karl Wachsmuth
• Schütze Hans Warstadt
• Schütze Walter Schnabel
• Schütze Christian Möller
• Schütze Martin Busch
• Schütze Helmut Schneider

Jürgen was looking over his roster at the moment that a rifle round pierced the LKW's windscreen and blew glass into the driver's face. That man, Oberfahrer⁴ Manfred Weiss, though partially blinded, kept his composure long enough to stop the LKW off to the side of the road. The drivers behind followed suit, not knowing what was going on but trusting their lead driver. When they too came under fire, the men from 2nd Squad reacted quickly.

Jürgen pulled Weiss out the passenger side door and was pleased to hear his squad MG 34 open fire from two trucks back. Schwartz and Möller were manning that weapon and had brought it into action quickly. Weiss was moaning and trying to rub his eyes.

"Stop that or you'll blind yourself." reaching down for the man's canteen, he told Weiss to lean to one side and just run water over his eyes. "Don't rub them!" Jürgen again barked as he moved up the ditch to ascertain where the fire was coming from.

It ended almost as quickly as it started when the enemy ceased fire and moved off.

Wittmann came up to Jürgen's position and said, "Delaying action, looks like the boys expecting this shipment are shit out of luck for now. Two of the LKW's took some damage, the drivers say they need their maintenance guys to fix them. I sent Warstadt back to report to company."

"By himself?" Jürgen thought it imprudent but then realized that they needed the bodies here, in case the enemy hit them again.

Before Wittmann could respond, Jürgen said, "Good decision Sepp, we need as many bodies here as possible. Anyone hit besides my driver?"

"No, not a scratch. Just two f**ked up LKWs."

"I don't think you hit anyone." Sergent Bartosz Podbielski laughed, "But that lead driver will need new underwear I'm sure!"

Jean-Yves shook his head. "That shot should have hit the driver dead on, it surprised me that he seemed alive. Now answer me this, why did we withdraw?"

One of the Poles, Damian Krempa, looked at the Frenchman and said, "You saw how many there were, a couple of squads at least, if you count the drivers. We are but six men." He nodded at the other Poles and said something to them. For Privates Klaudiusz Mierzejewski, 

Mariusz Perzan, and Juliusz Dziadosz didn't speak French. Mierzejewski spoke Russian in addition to Polish and Perzan was fluent in German. Only young Dziadosz had no other tongue but the one his mother spoke.

"He's right Cahun, we delayed them for a bit. We'll move down the road a few kilometers. If we don't find a French or Polish unit to join up with, then we'll become highwaymen, attacking Niemcy convoys wherever we find them. Does that suit you?" Podbielski asked.

"I suppose, mon Sergent."

"Perhaps we can find you a scope for that M-36 as well. That wasn't a bad shot really, I made the range to be 200 meters or so." Krempa said.

"Closer to 250, I didn't account for the wind ..."

"Don't worry chłopaczek⁵, you did better than I expected. We'll make you a myśliwy yet!"

Jean-Yves looked puzzled for a moment, "Mish-she-vlay?"

The Poles all laughed, Krempa looked at Jean-Yves and said, "A chasseur, a jäger, what the Tommies call a hunter. I think you'd do well as a huntsman in the Carpathians back home. Maybe someday ..."

"After we drive the Boches out of France." Jean-Yves hissed.

"Or maybe kill them all," Podbielski suggested, "that's my preferred solution."

The men got up and moved off as night fell. The sergeant wanted to put as much distance as possible from where they'd ambushed the supply column. The Germans were a thorough race, they'd be looking for their attackers at first light.

¹ Go from bad to worse.

² Lastkraftwagen, the German word for a truck. Typically pronounced letter by letter, in German it would sound like "ell-kah-vay."

³ Fußball, or soccer if you prefer.

⁴ Senior driver.

⁵ Boy or lad. (Polish)