To the North

Near Luga, 125 kilometers from Leningrad
(Source)

"There! You see them?" Schütze Helmut Schneider hissed at his squadmate Schütze Hans Warstadt.

Warstadt looked hard, then said, "Yes, I see three of them."

'Three? Oh yes, there are three!" Schneider waved at Schütze Michael Offenbach who was moving slowly and carefully towards the small patch of brush that Schneider and Warstadt were observing.

Offenbach took one step, hesitated for just a second, then dove into the brush. When he stood up he held two chickens, one in each hand. "Ach, if only I had a third hand!"

Schneider walked over and examined the birds, "They are plump, two should be enough to feed the squad. Let's get back to camp."

Leutnant Fritz Acker had his four squad leaders gathered together, they'd been given a reconnaissance mission by the company commander, Hauptmann Ferdinand Busch. Acker spread his map on the ground then began his brief.

"We are here, along this road, this collective farm complex," shifting his fingers on the map, "is roughly two kilometers east of us," he stabbed the map with his forefinger, "here. Battalion has aerial reconnaissance reports indicating the place is unoccupied, but they don't believe them. So, they want a platoon to go forward and check the place out."

Von Lüttwitz scratched his chin, then pointed at the markings on the map which indicated trees. "How thick are those trees?"

Unteroffizier Paul Niehaus of 1st Squad leaned in for a closer look, "Fairly thick, good cover, not a lot of underbrush, the peasants use it for firewood. I had my squad near there, day before yesterday. We could see it clearly."

Unterfeldwebel Leo Klempner of 3rd Squad and Unteroffizier Hannes Kohl leader of 4th Squad also leaned in. Klempner nodded and looked at the lieutenant. "Do-able Herr Leutnant, but it'd be nice to have the company mortars available if we need them."

"Der Chef says they're ours for this recce. Especially seeing as how he and his radioman will be tagging along." Acker looked around at his four squad leaders, then said, "Hannes, I want your squad in reserve, stay a good hundred meters back, but come up at a run if we need you."

"Alles klar, Herr Leutnant." Hannes Kohl was well-known throughout the division, having won a Knight's Cross in France. What's more, he had been a simple private when he'd won it. He didn't like being in reserve, but he also knew he was the least experienced non-commissioned officer. He would follow orders.

"Right, the Hauptmann said to be ready to move out at 0330. the new moon is done, I think it's in the first quarter now. The weather people say it sets at 0300 this time of year. So we'll have enough light to make our way forward. Remember now, stay low and keep to the low ground, the horizon will be brighter to the west, behind us."

The company commander, his radioman, and the platoon leader stayed with von Lüttwitz's squad that night, which meant that there was a little less chicken to go around. But it sufficed.

As they had been preparing the meal, Hauptmann Busch and his radioman, Gefreiter Heinz Baar, had shown up at the squad's bivouac.

"Chicken? Where the Hell did you boys find chicken?" he had asked.

Michael Offenbach had piped up immediately, "They came into our lines just before sunset, Herr Hauptmann. It was a surprise attack, but we overwhelmed these two Communist chickens very quickly."

Busch stared at the private for a long moment, "You're a rogue Offenbach, but I'll let it go if I can get a leg off of one of those birds."

"Certainly, Sir, zu befehl."

Busch was popular with his men, accompanying them on missions like the one they were to undertake in the morning typified his leadership style. Though the hideous burn marks on the left side of his face might argue otherwise, he was also extraordinarily lucky.

Möller and Hermann had argued about that.

"Lucky? The man is badly scarred, what woman would have him?" Hermann had said to Möller when the subject of the captain's luck had come up.

"One, I guess, he has a wife in Dresden, two kids as well. They seem to like him well enough. Besides, most men would have been killed pulling a man from a burning Panzer. He's lucky he was only scarred. Well, and lost a finger when a hatch slammed down on it."

"The Hauptmann is infantry, what was he doing near the Panzers?" Helmut Schneider asked.

"Ah, his platoon was providing support. One of the tanks in the rear was hit and started to burn. Der Chef climbed up onto the damned thing and starting helping the crew evacuate."

"Okay, but why?"

"His older brother was commanding that Panzer." Möller explained.

"Wow, I'll bet his brother really appreciated that."

"We'll never know, a Polish sniper shot his brother just as the Hauptmann had pulled him free of the hatch. Der Chef was already bleeding like a stuck pig as he'd already lost the finger pulling the loader out."

Continuing the story, Möller concluded by telling the men that Busch's brother had lived for four days after being shot, but had never regained consciousness.

"I'll bet der Chef hates the Polacks?" Wachsmuth commented.

"Not at all," von Lüttwitz chimed in as he joined his men by the fire, "like the man said, the guy who shot his brother was just doing his job. Hauptmann Busch has been a soldier for a long time, he's killed men himself but doesn't glory in it. It's his job, and he's very good at it. Now I suggest you lot quit your bullshitting and get some sleep, it's nearly midnight now."

While he was still near the campfire, von Lüttwitz lit his pipe. He drew in deeply, fiddling with a burning stick to get the rough Russian tobacco to light.

When he had it going, he drew his greatcoat tighter around him, the nights were growing colder. As he released a cloud of smoke, he saw something in the firelight.

It was a snowflake.