The Encounter

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"Staber! Hold up, get the men off the road, ein kurzer Pause machen.¹"

Dieter Krafft stopped, holding his hand up so that the men in the company would stop as well. They were all so exhausted that getting them moving again might pose a problem. He turned and looked at the young officer, the company commander, coming up to him.

"Leutnant?"

"Look Dieter, the men are exhausted and look at these refugees, do you see the looks they're giving us?"

Krafft looked, he saw nothing at first, then he saw an old man perched precariously atop a wagon, a wagon containing everything his family owned. Krafft also saw the empty sleeve, a veteran of the first war? Perhaps.

Then he saw the old man's stare, resentment, nearly outright disgust. It struck Krafft that the army probably shouldn't be retreating faster than the people they should be defending.

"I see, Sir. Let's have a look at the map."

They were in a wood which petered out in another kilometer or so. Beyond was a village, probably abandoned, and perhaps a kilometer past that village, running north and south, a slight ridge, perhaps no more than 20 meters above the surrounding terrain. But it was something.

"The way I see it, Sir, is that we could set up here," he pointed at the map, "near where the wood ends and hit the people following us there. Or ..."

"That ridge, near the village. I'd go for the high ground Staber."

"Genau.²"

They let the men sleep as the refugee column staggered past. Eventually the track through the forest was empty. Parcels and other detritus were strewn along the path. Things which had once been seen as necessary for comfort were now seen as an unnecessary burden.

"There will be another column behind this one, I'm sure." Leutnant von Zitzewitz opined.

"No doubt, but as likely to be Ivan's reconnaissance elements as another group of refugees." Krafft muttered.

"There is that." the lieutenant nodded.

"Let's get the men moving, shall we Herr Leutnant?"

"As you wish, Sir."

The village looked as if it had once been prosperous, now most of the houses were in ruins. Near the entrance, there were two trees, something was hanging from one of them.

"What fresh hell is this?" one of the men pulling the IF8 infantry cart groaned.

Wehrmacht infantry cart Infantriekarren IF8
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Hanging from the tree were two men, both in tattered uniforms, both hung by the neck, no doubt by the Feldgendarmerie. Both had crudely lettered signs hanging around their necks stating "Traitor to the German people."

Krafft simply said, "Keep moving lads, I want us dug in on this ridge by sunset."

One of the younger men, he couldn't have been much older than 16, "Shouldn't we cut them down, Herr Stabsfeldwebel?"

Gefreiter Max Goerner shook his head, "Not unless you want to join them boy." He nodded towards the village, there sat a Feldgendarmerie patrol. There were five of them, two on a motorcycle-sidecar combination, the other three in a Kübelwagen, one of whom was an NCO.

The sergeant and two of his men began walking towards the road, "Hold up a moment, gentlemen."

Krafft signaled the men to stop, under his breath he muttered, "Scheiße ..."

Lieutenant von Zitzewitz looked at Krafft and nodded towards the men. The lieutenant was a fast learner.

"Good afternoon, Leutnant, may I see your movement orders please?" The military policeman was wearing his gorget which announced his role to anyone who cared to know. Due to its looks, the Feldgendarmerie were known in the army as Kettenhunde, chained dogs.

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Von Zitzewitz noted the man's rank, an Oberfeldwebel³.

"That's Herr Leutnant," The young officer put heavy emphasis on the "Herr" honorific. "I would ask you for the same, Oberfeld."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Where are your orders, Oberfeldwebel? Or are you just swanning around the rear areas avoiding the fighting and terrorizing individual soldiers perhaps separated from their units?"

Before the military policeman said another word, he looked to his right. He had heard the charging handle on an StG 44 being pulled back and released. There, to his right, was an older sergeant, grizzled, his winter reversible camouflage suit was ripped in spots and very filthy, but the weapon in his hands looked well-maintained and aimed directly at his midsection.

"Threatening the Feldgendarmerie is a serious crime, Herr Leutnant."

The very young lieutenant didn't say a word, he just stared at the man. The chained dog also noticed that of the other men on the road, most of them had their weapons pointed at him and his men. There were at least two MG 42s, mounted on infantry carts, ready for immediate use.

"So is impeding the German Army in the pursuit of its duties in defending the Reich." the lieutenant spoke in a voice as cold as Siberia.

The cop reached for his sidearm. From the time of Krafft opening fire to the Feldgendarmerie sergeant hitting the ground, to the men in the village being raked by the two MG 42s, was no more than a few seconds.

Oberfeldwebel Hermann Schoerner gasped as the waves of pain spread over him. He tried to speak as he looked up at the young lieutenant, whose Walther P 38 was pointed directly at his head. His lips moved, the crack of the lieutenant's pistol ended the conversation.

Gefreiter Goerner cackled, breaking the spell. "Come on boys, you six come with me, we'll drag those bodies into the village."

Goerner had gestured at the nearest squad, who began doing as they were told. Goerner then turned to Krafft, "I reckon we'll meet you fellows up on that ridge. Dig me a nice hole, won't you Dieter?"

"Was that altogether wise, Dieter?" Von Zitzewitz was unsettled by what they had done, and it showed.

Krafft looked at his officer, "Would you rather we let those dogs hang some of our men? You know the type, the world is better off without them. Besides, who is going to notice? The Ivans?"

"I suppose you're right, but ..."

"Staber Krafft, the Russians, they're here!" Came a hissing warning from further along the ridge.

Looking up out of the trench they had hastily scraped out of the dirt, Krafft put his field glasses on the track coming out of the forest. He saw at least two BA 64 armored cars and at least three of the American White halftracks the Soviets loved. (Though they would never admit that to the Amis, Krafft thought.)

BA 64
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"Time to earn our pay, Herr Leutnant."

Von Zitzewitz was watching them as well, "Think they'll come on tonight?" It was getting dark.

"No, they'll probably hole up in the village and come visiting in the morning. I would. They can't be sure what's in front of them."

They spread the word quietly through the defensive works, hold fire, keep your heads down, and no fires. Let the Ivans relax, but if they came up the road, wait for the first Panzerfaust to light up the lead car.

It was a long, cold night ...

¹ Slang term for a Stabsfeldwebel, roughly "Sergeant Major". "ein kurzer Pause machen," literally a short pause, functionally equivalent to the English, "take five."

² Exactly.

³ A senior sergeant, roughly equivalent to an U.S. Army Staff Sergeant.