The Ferry

Source

They had spent the night in a small wood between the villages of Ihleburg and Parchau, if the entire battalion had been there they would have had no cover. As it was, the tress were mostly deciduous and had yet to leaf out, fortunately there was a stand of evergreens on the edge of the wood where the men could be concealed from the air. One of the radiomen, the younger of the two had opted to go with them. The senior man stayed behind.

"You understand that the outburst of machine gun and rifle fire we heard this afternoon was probably your boys, running into Ivan out in the open," Krafft had told the older radioman, he was all of 19 and had been in the army for a year.

"I understand that, Herr Stabsfeldwebel, but this is my post, he can go," he said, gesturing at his younger colleague, "but I must stay. It is my duty."

Krafft had shaken his head and told the younger man to have his kit ready before darkness, they would leave when night had settled in.

"F**king Hitler Youth, no doubt." Lang had snarled when he'd been told what the radiomen were going to do.

Liesl spoke up, "Kurt, for the young, this is all they know. Hitler and the Nazis were in power when these boys were little. From their earliest memories, it's always been Hitler and his cronies."

Lang shrugged, "Not my problem, just expressing an opinion. Kids never learned to think for themselves."

"Alright, that's enough." Krafft spread his hands, as if calming the waters.

Lang then said, "I sent Heffenbach out with one of his lads, see if he could get eyeballs on that racket we heard this afternoon."

"You did what? Did you think to check with me first?" Krafft's temper grew shorter as they got closer to their goal. Before Lang could answer, Krafft shook his head.

"Never mind, that was uncalled for. Good idea really. Hopefully the boy knows how to sneak."

Lang chuckled, "Well, we've heard no more shooting since he left."

The platoon was ready, they were still waiting for Heffenbach to return. Krafft checked his watch, it was the 1st of May and the light was fading fast. Both in this small wood near the Elbe and for Germany as a country. He wondered what would happen when, if, they contacted the Amis. Would they shoot first? Or would they honor the white rag Krafft had stuffed in his tunic to affix to a rifle when the time came.

Two men entered the area in front of the barn, Heffenbach had returned. Krafft had nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw them.

"Jesus, I guess Lang was right, you are good at sneaking. Didn't see you until you popped up. Good thing I didn't have my weapon ready."

Heffenbach grinned, "I learned a few things in the East, Herr Stabsfeldwebel, staying alive was my best skill. We found the location of the firefight ..."

"Firefight?"

"Yes, a small group, perhaps fifteen, it was hard to count all of them, had been ambushed. Couldn't tell by who, Russians if I had to guess. We saw a couple of their scout cars running up and down the roads."

The older radioman lowered his head and stared forlornly at the ground. Krafft grabbed his sleeve, "Might not be them, Junge."

"I don't think it was them, Staber." Heffenbach continued.

"Why not?"

"One of the bodies I could identify, it was Hauptmann Oster. So this group was from our battalion."

"Scheiße."

"So Oster's dead?" Lang said, shaking his head.

"Appears so, Heffenbach figures they were following the road, trying to make time. It was just bad luck that a couple of Russian scout cars probably came on them in the open and just opened fire." Krafft said, looking around, he wanted to be off, but Heffenbach had brought back further bad news.

"Look here on the map, the terrain between here and Rogätz is completely open. Nothing but farm fields. If the Russians have their scouts out ..."

"We'll need to be very alert. They won't drive with no lights at all, but they will be using lights taped up to just present a slit. We can see them, but only if we're really paying attention. More importantly, as long as it isn't raining, we should be able to hear them coming." Krafft then redirected his attention to the map.

"It's nine kilometers if we go straight through Parchau and then over the fields. We don't have to follow the roads, I'd prefer to stay out in the fields. We'd have more of a chance of going to ground before being spotted by a scout car. It's a risk but ..."

"It's our only chance." Liesl chimed in.

The men all looked at her and nodded. It would be a stress-filled night, of that they were sure.

The night was cloudy so there wasn't much light. As there was also not much wind, it was comfortable. Other than the need to be on the lookout constantly for the Russians. One of the men said he could "smell the river ahead," which Lang scoffed at, but Krafft believed the man. People who lived near water knew those sorts of things and the man claimed to have grown up on the banks of the Weichsel¹, so he might know what he was talking about.

Krafft was having trouble staying awake, so when Lang threw him to the ground it startled him. Then he heard it, engine noises.

Not far away, perhaps 300 meters, was a farm track. On that track were two Soviet scout cars. Krafft would have stumbled along without even noticing them had Lang not thrown him to the ground.

The platoon watched as the two cars stopped for a bit, then they heard laughter. Lang hissed in his ear, "Probably stopped for a piss."

Lang was probably right, after a few minutes the vehicles moved on and the platoon could hurry onwards.

They arrived at the bank of the Elbe about two hours before dawn. They found the ferry landing, but no ferry.

"If it was me, I'd tie up on the western side of the river." Liesl offered.

"And why is that?" Krafft asked, knowing that she had a reason for saying that, but it was Lang who answered.

"Russians are on this side. Would you want to deal with them, if you owned a ferry on the Elbe?"

"A fair point. But how do we get the ferry to come over here?"

"We have to wait until it's lighter. It's too dark to see if the ferry actually exists, if it does is another question. Then we figure out how to get the boat to our side."

"Someone could swim?" Liesl offered.

Lang shook his head, "She's a big river, wide and fast enough that anyone swimming across, provided they didn't drown in the attempt, would arrive on the opposite bank well downstream. You're crazy if you fight the current, crazier still to attempt such a crossing without having trained for it."

Krafft was using his field glasses to study the other bank of the river. "There are lights in Rogätz, probably oil lamps by the way they flicker. So there are people there. I think the ferry is intact, there's something that looks like a boat near the water's edge."

"Just because it looks like a boat doesn't mean it's intact. Might be holed, lying in the shallows."

"You're an incurable optimist aren't you, Kurt?" Liesl teased him.

"Well, sure, but you have to be realistic. Now how do we get across?"

"Let's find a place to hide, the bank seems to have lots of brush and a few trees. Let's get everyone under cover for now. In the morning, we'll see what we can see. We're almost there, I can almost taste it." Krafft said.

Lang muttered, "And she thinks I'm an optimist."

¹ The German name for the Vistula River.

Experiencing "Technical" Difficulties¹

PxHere

Rough night, didn't sleep well.

Awakened after one of those tossing, turning, dream-filled intervals of actual sleep to discover that the sun was up, my watch had stopped, and my throat felt like I'd been gargling shattered bits of glass.

So yeah, not a bright start to the day.

As I write this it is only 1639 (4:39 PM for you civvies) and I am nodding off at the keyboard.

So, bottom line up front ...

The fiction store won't be open today. I can barely focus long enough to type this.

The Missus Herself returns from her trip to the homeland Monday evening. Without her I am, apparently, a complete mess.

Four more days.

I can do this.

I think.

Sigh ...

¹ Technically, I'm exhausted. So yeah, "technical" difficulties. My machine is more than ready to accept my input. Problem is, I got nothing.

Der Führer ist tot!¹

Source

The bridge over the canal was, amazingly, still intact. As it was a ways from any towns or villages, 2 kilometers east of Ihleburg and nearly 3 kilometers southwest of Güsen neither of which was a very sizeable town, it had attracted no attention from enemy aircraft. As the Amis closed up along the Elbe, that might change.

"Do you think Ivan will push any units this way, link up with the Amis?" Lang asked.

Krafft shrugged his shoulders and looked back at Lang, "I don't know, once they have Berlin, perhaps. But then again, you know how the Russians are about territory, they might send units this way to keep the Amis on their side of the river."

As he turned back to the front, he had noticed that it was starting to get lighter to the east. It wasn't long until sunup. Though there was a small patch of forest ahead, just south of Ihleburg, there was no way they'd make it before sunrise. It was then that he noticed a building just ahead. A farm?

He signaled the men to deploy in skirmish order and motioned Lang to come up.

"Looks deserted." Lang remarked.

"Look closer."

Lang pulled out his field glasses, the farm wasn't far, maybe 150 meters, but the glasses would help. He was often amazed at how good Krafft's vision was. One of his nicknames was die Eule².

"Looks like a Kübelwagen, so there can't be more than four men around, probably German, what do you want to do?" Lang looked at Krafft as he tucked his glasses away.

Heffenbach took three men around to cover the far side of the farm buildings, Krafft and three men advanced to the front, keeping their eyes open for anything suspicious. As they got closer, Krafft noticed a light coming from a crack in the shutters over a window, probably the kitchen he guessed, Where else would people be this early in the morning?

He had his men hold, he crept up to the shuttered kitchen window and listened, at first he heard what sounded like crying. Peeking through the crack he saw two men, in German uniforms, sitting in front of a radio. One man was looking at the floor, dejectedly Krafft thought. The other was hugging himself, rocking back and forth. Krafft could see the gleam of tears on the man's cheeks.

What fresh hell was this?

He gestured for his men to move up and then indicated that he was going through the door. One man raised an eyebrow, Krafft realized that the man's face was clear as day, because the sun was up. Behind the clouds, but up.

Krafft tried the door, it wasn't locked, probably had no lock this far out in the country. When he stepped into the room, it was the kitchen, he had his StG 44 at the ready. While he hadn't seen any nearby weapons, he didn't want to take any chances.

Both men jumped when he stepped in, they both held their hands before them, one gasped, "Bitte, nicht schießen.³"

"Wolf, Dietrich, come in, first signal Lang that it's clear."

Though the men looked and sounded German, it seemed odd for them to be here, by themselves, with an operating radio. He kept his weapon on them, one tried to speak and Krafft directed them to be quiet.

"You're absolutely sure?" Krafft asked, looking at the senior of the two radiomen.

"Jawohl, Herr Unteroffizier. It came out on the Deutschlandsender⁴ earlier this morning. Our unit radioed us, ordering us to fall back to their position."

"So Hitler is dead, according to you fellows." Lang didn't really believe it.

"Nein, Herr Unteroffizier, according to Herr Goebbels."

Only Krafft, Lang, and Liesl were in the room. The remainder of the platoon were in defensive positions around the farmhouse and its two outbuildings. He'd had some of the men push the Kübelwagen into the barn.

"Not a smart move leaving your car outside," Krafft pointed out. "Why are you even here?"

"We're part of a patrol monitoring the river, higher headquarters wanted to know if the Americans were across yet."

"And why is that?"

"We'd prefer to surrender to the Amis and not the Russians."

Lang laughed, "Understandable."

Krafft continued, "You said part of a patrol, where is the rest of it? And why leave you two here?"

"The farmhouse seemed a good place to leave the radio, there are twelve others, all infantry, probing towards the Elbe."

"And when did they leave?"

"Last night, after sunset."

"Hhmm," was all Krafft could offer. He had a thoughtful look on his face.

Krafft and Lang were looking at the map, "We're about four kilometers from the Elbe, schnurgerade⁵. But we're still nearly 12 kilometers from the ferry at Rogätz. We can be there by tomorrow morning. With any luck at all," Krafft said, tracing the route on the map.

"An easy night's hike, but what about these other fellows, will they be cooperative?" Lang wondered.

"Well, don't they have the same objective? Surrender to the Amis?" Liesl pointed out.

"If we can believe the two radiomen. Bring them in, Kurt."

Lang fetched the radiomen.

"Alright, which one of you was crying his eyes out over the death of our 'beloved' Führer?" Krafft asked pointedly.

The junior man raised his hand, Krafft nodded, he'd seen him crying through the cracked shutter. "It was me, Herr Stabsfeldwebel. But I was crying because the war is lost, Germany is lost, everything is lost." The boy's eyes were filling again.

"How long have you been in the Army, Junge? And how old are you?"

"Seven months, I'm almost 17."

"Almost. Do you know if Berlin is still holding out?"

"Yes, the city hasn't fallen to the Russians yet. When the wind is right, you can hear the artillery."

"Yes, but not last night, was it the wind, or has Berlin capitulated? We can't know. When do you expect the rest of your patrol to return?"

"Maybe not for two days, the Unteroffizier said they had to be very cautious about moving when it was light out. Even moving at night in the open is dangerous, he said."

Lang and Krafft gave each other a significant look.

"What do you want to do?" Lang asked Krafft.

"The plan stays the same, we move out an hour after sunset. If those other people come back, that might change things."

"If they come back?" Liesl said as she sat up, in some alarm.

"There is a good chance they won't. If Berlin has fallen, Ivan will be pushing units to the Elbe, that group might get swept up. Just like we might get swept up."

"What about the radio lads?"

"They can come with us, or they can stay here. Their choice."

Lang raised his MP-40, "Or ..."

"No, we're not going to kill them. I don't want that on my conscience."

"Wouldn't be on yours, Dieter."

"Yes, it would. It doesn't matter who pulls the trigger, if I consent, it's the same as if I'd shot them myself. No, and that's final. Klar?"

Lang sighed, "Jawohl, Herr Stabsfeldwebel, I don't want to kill them either, but ..."

"No, Kurt, that's an order."

Lang left to brief the rest of the platoon and get them bedded down for the night. After he left Liesl looked at Krafft.

"Would he have shot them? They're just boys."

"Yes, I rather think he would, if he saw them as a threat. So would I, if it meant protecting you, and the others, of course."

She walked to him and put her arms out, he gathered her into his arms and squeezed. It scared him, but he would kill to protect this woman. But he didn't think it was necessary at this point in time.

Tomorrow?

That might be a different story.

¹ The Führer is dead. The Führer being Adolf Hitler. For those who didn't know.

² The owl

³ Please, don't shoot.

⁴ One of the major radio broadcasting stations in Germany.

⁵ Straight as a string, German idiom for "as the crow flies." A German might also refer to Luftlinie, or "air line" for the same thing.

Breakout

Source

Oster looked at Krafft, not sure how the man would receive this plan. Lately the sergeant's emotions had been all over the map, but when it came to taking care of his men, Oster thought Krafft to be one of the best men he had.

Krafft looked down at the ground, they were holed up in yet another forest, not far from Hohenseeden, two days after ambushing the Russian reconnaissance unit, two days after the death of Oberst von Balck and perhaps 30 other members of their little Kampfgruppe.¹ They were southeast of the Elbe ferry at Rogätz, which was 16 kilometers from their position. But the destination they were making for, Tangermünde, still lay some 30 kilometers to the north. Only a few people other than Krafft knew of this ferry. One of his soldiers had mentioned trying for that instead of a "might be intact" bridge further to the north.

"I hate to say this, Herr Hauptmann, but I agree. There are just too many of us to try and make it as a body. Breaking into smaller groups gives us a chance, no matter how small it may seem," he had decided, for now, to keep the knowledge of the ferry close to the vest. No sense telling everyone, though it pained him to keep it a secret from Oster.

Oster looked around the small group of sergeants and corporals, "My suggestion is that we break down into our constituent platoons and each group make its way as best it can."

"This is ludicrous, a death sentence!" Gefreiter Heffenbach erupted with passion. "Together we are strong, together ..."

Krafft looked at his man, "Together we are a Gottverdammte target, Ernst! There is no safety in numbers out here. We are all likely doomed, however, breaking into smaller parties we might slip through. You can hear the guns at night, can you not? Berlin is still standing, the Ivans are still focused on that. Once it falls, they will begin rounding up the stragglers. That's what we are, Ernst, stragglers."

"But Staber ..." Heffenbach protested.

Lang stood up and walked over to Heffenbach, "Why don't you sit down and shut up boy? Haven't you figured it out yet, the f**king war is over. We're waiting to be mopped up. I'd rather be mopped up by the Amis, not the Ivans."

Heffenbach hung his head, "I know you're right, Kurt, it's just to give up."

"It's either that or die, Junge." Krafft said quietly.

The decision was made, they would break up into groups, each no larger than twenty men, and try to break out on their own. They would leave at intervals, Krafft's group, he'd assented to bringing Heffenbach and the remains of his platoon with his group, numbered twenty one men and one woman, Frau Schmitz.

She and Krafft were in deep conversation some twenty meters from the rest, Lang, as was his custom, sat somewhere between the main group and his friends.

Liesl's eyes glistened in the dim light from the stars and moon above, the forest blocked most of the light, but not all. "Are we going to survive, Dieter?"

Krafft sighed, "I don't know, Liebling, I certainly hope so. If it was just you, me, and Kurt, we'd have a 50/50 chance."

"Only 50/50?"

"The SS and the Feldgendarmerie are still out there, hanging deserters. They'll bully small groups, three to four, and hang them. A half-platoon, armed? That might give them pause. Remember most of them are bullies and cowards, if they were real men, they'd be at the front. Or making for home. This is their last chance to lord it over others. When the war ends, we'll all be slaves."

She gave him a harsh look, "You are so negative, my darling."

"I am a realist. Our only hope is that the West and the Ivans fall out, and I think they will. Then, and only then, will we Germans be needed."

The hour arrived, the group was gathered, they were told that their path was due west. One of the men pointed out that Tangermünde was to the north.

"Do you think such a long river is only bridged at one place? Do you not think that there might be ferries along the river?" Lang pointed out.

"But the ferry boats, won't they be destroyed already?" one of the younger soldiers asked.

"It's possible, but it's also possible that the boats are on this side of the Elbe, our side. After all, we want to deny the Amis the ability to cross, not our own ability. I reckon that the boats which remain are on this side of the river." Krafft answered.

"Unless the verdammte Ami terror flyers have sunk them all. We don't want them on our side of the river, they don't want us on their side of the river. It's a crap shoot lads. Let's just stay alive and keep moving. For now whether that ferry exists or not, that's not a problem for right now." Lang pointed out.

"Enough chatter, let's move, single file, no talking. I hear it ..." Krafft began.

"And I'll make sure the chatterbox goes silent forever." Lang added.

Lang hissed to Krafft, "We're also hoping for a bridge over the Elbe-Havel Kanal as well, right?"

"There's one just east of Ihleburg, should still be up. If it isn't ..."

"Then I guess we learn to speak Russian." Lang added.

"If I were a praying man, I would start right now."

"Way ahead of you, Dieter, I think I was born again somewhere around Kharkov."

"Took you that long?"

"Would you both shut the hell up?" Liesl hissed at the two men.

Krafft put a finger to his lips and nodded. There would be time later, he hoped, for banter. Now was certainly not that time. Then he blew a kiss at Liesl, she smiled.

Lang, ever the comedian, blew a kiss back at Krafft.

All Krafft could think was, "Dear God, at least let these two survive."

The night was alive, though the rain had stopped in the late afternoon, water still dripped from the many trees. It helped masked the noise of the group's movement, tomorrow could be a problem, they all knew that.

Though they had no way of knowing it, roughly 100 kilometers to the east in Berlin, Adolf Hitler had just shot himself. The Thousand Year Reich would last one more week.

The war in Europe was winding down, fighting raged in Berlin, hundreds more Germans and Russians would die in its streets, but the end was near.

¹ Battle group, a grouping (often ad hoc) of combat units, usually smaller than but could be the size of, a brigade. These groups were task focused and late in the war could be composed of the remnants of multiple units.

It's another Tequila Monday

 Well, time is running out.  Lots of boxes either full, half full or still to be taped into readiness.  

The Wine Closet

That having been said, still a lot of packing to do.  Progress on the moving front is OK not great, but it has made some progress.  These are the contents of our wine closet.  60+ bottles of PDG* wine.  That will be loaded into my truck (inside the cab of course) and transported to CStat (AKA College Station) and stored at MBD's house.  Too big a risk of theft/heat damage to move it with movers.

Mrs J and I went to College Station last Thursday, spent the night and returned on Friday.  Took a look at the property that Mrs J was interested in.  It was a lot nicer than it looked from the air photo.

We'd set up an appointment to meet with a builder to talk about what was needed, what issues we might have, water, all the things that are needed to build a house.  The property is about 4.8 acres, which we feel is enough for a house, a barn, grazing area for the horses and privacy.  Lots of tall oak trees, but quite a bit of underbrush to be removed.  Fencing-in the perimeter will be one of the first tasks.  Then we can bring in the horses to graze.  

Mrs. J also had a pretty good idea.  She had done a bit of research on situations like this.  Apparently, there are people who have herds of goats that they will rent to "mow" the underbrush.  Gonna have to check out that a bit more, but if that works, well...

Got boxes all over the house, some full, some partially, some still need to be "built".  Got until December 18th to be out as the house changes hands at that point.  So...Time's awaistin'

Oh, one more thing,  after a long day, Mrs J and I were sitting out front having a medicinal glass of wine.

Being somewhat interested in aviation, Austin Bergstrom and San Antonio Airports flightpaths are within viewing range.  (Yes, Beans a glass or two of Josh Rose' aids the visual acuity).  In any case, I happened to notice this rare vision.

Given the bearing of the X and from where I'm looking. I'd say that they three Airliners passed over a TACAN station along I10 northwest of San Antonio.  Just thought it kinda cool that they all (well except for the fourth one) passed over pretty much the exact same spot.  The accuracy of the station is a couple of miles, so pretty accurate navigation, Mates!

Yes, Beans, they were also altitude separated as well as time over the TACAN.

So, sorry for a short post, Gang, that's all I've got at this point.  Gonna be a very (OK very, very) busy next few months.  Looking forward to completion and move in.

Peace Out, y'all!

*Pretty Darn Good!  (Sarge wouldn't allow the other "D" word!)

Life and Death

Source

"I understand, Stabsfeldwebel Krafft, and your idea makes perfect sense. But I have a, shall we say, moral problem with this." Hauptmann Oster was not angry, simply non-committal at this point in time.

"Sir, I get it, we'd be leaving fellow Germans in the lurch, I know you promised to ..."

"I promised nothing, Staber."

"Well, yes, however, isn't the promise of your assistance implied when a senior officer gives you an order? Besides which, isn't our first loyalty to these men ..."

"And one woman."

"No Sir, I haven't forgotten that. But as I was trying to say, isn't our first loyalty to our unit, and then to whatever higher unit is controlling us? And are those Hermann Goering boys above us in the hierarchy. After all, they're Luftwaffe, not army." Krafft did not want to hang their hats on Oberst von Balck's unit, or his abilities as an officer.

Oster sighed, "We were ordered deeper into the wood, upon hearing a Panzer battle start up, then we were to advance and hit those Ivans in the arse. Assuming of course that things were going well for the Goering lads. I tell you what we are going to do, and I'll brook no argument."

"Very well, Sir."

"We will take most of the battalion back into the forest, deep enough where it's pretty obvious vehicles won't be able to get through. However, I am going to leave a small party at the edge of the forest, well-concealed and in a position where the Russians would not think to enter. A guess, yes, but an educated one I think. Do you think Unteroffizier Lang could handle that assignment? Him and perhaps two other men, one to act as a runner to bring us word when it's time."

"Kurt, that is, Unteroffizier Lang, is the only one I would trust to not screw this up. He's perfect for this sort of thing."

"Very well, have him choose two other men to go with him, men he would trust with his life, because he is doing exactly that."

"Jawohl, Herr Hauptmann."

The Russian colonel was furious, he had gotten nothing from those illiterate German farmers and housewives. His men had beaten two of them to death, all that the remainder would admit to is that the dead woman his patrol had found on the road, was their representative to the local worker's Soviet. As good Communists they resented the implication that they were anything but happy to see the glorious Red Army in their land.

"Chertovy naglyye ublyudki!¹" he cursed, slamming his hand down on the hood of his command car.

"Comrade Colonel?" The commissar was nearby and obviously didn't like what the colonel said.

"What, tovarishch kommissar²? You believe those Nazis? Do you really think they are Communists, like you and I?"

"No, of course not, tovarishch polkovnik.³ But we are going to have to assimilate these people into the Communist International once we are done with the Hitlerites. If they are not part of the Soviet, they will be soon."

The commissar's smugness made the colonel want to draw his pistol and shoot the man. But he knew that that would not be career-enhancing.

"Very well tovarisch, then we assume that a random German sniper shot that woman?"

"Of course not, aerial reconnaissance spotted German armor in the area. We saw tracks a few kilometers back but the rain washed out whatever traces were left here. Which tells me that the bastards are waiting somewhere, somewhere to ambush us I have to assume. Do you have your map handy?"

Lang and his two runners watched from concealment as the Soviet reconnaissance unit went past, hell for leather, they were in a hurry to get somewhere.

"What do you think, Johannes, was that all of them? I counted three T-34s, seven halftracks and ten motorcycle/sidecar combinations. I seem to remember there being more motorcycles."

Schütze Ackermann spoke, "Johannes and I counted them when they first arrived. There were twelve motorcycle/sidecar combinations. The rest of the numbers match."

Lang nodded, "Okay Klaus, Johannes you agree?"

Schütze Johannes Becker agreed, "Klaus has the right of it. We're missing two motorcycle/sidecar combinations. Everything else matches up."

"Very well, Klaus go back and inform Hauptmann Oster."

"Hhmm, I wonder what that could mean." Oster was thinking that those missing men could be trouble.

Krafft answered, "Six men, Sir. No more. We have a platoon watch our backs and we stick to the trees. My guess is that those men went back to report to higher, perhaps their radio is out of order, or their commander wants to make damned sure his boss knows what he's up to."

Oster nodded, "Alright then, 1st Company, 2nd Platoon, what do they have now, 12 men?"

Krafft nodded, "They also still have ammunition for their MG-42."

"Gut, have Krämer and his boys watch the back door, we're moving up to Lang's position. I'll send a runner back when he can follow. Klar?"

Krafft nodded, "Aber natürlich, Herr Hauptmann."

"Well, I'll be a son of a bitch." Lang muttered as he watched two Russian motorcycle/sidecar combinations head up the track to where the Soviet reconnaissance had gone.

"Break down maybe?" Becker whispered.

"Possibly, or they stayed behind to rape and pillage. At any rate, Johannes, those were our missing people. I think we've accounted for all of Ivan's recce lads in the area."

Lang turned as he heard movement behind him, he was expecting Ackermann, he was surprised to see the captain and the rest of the battalion, or so he assumed.

"Herr Hauptmann, the missing reconnaissance boys just passed us by. All of them are chasing up the track after the Hermann Goering lads."

"Ausgezeichnet!⁴" Oster said, clenching his fist.

Then in the distance, they all heard the distinctive sound of a German 7.5 cm tank cannon. Followed immediately by an insane amount of small arms fire, interspersed with the thumping of the Wirbelwind's four 2 cm cannon.

The men started to get up, Oster signaled them to wait.

Shortly the firing ceased and Oster stood up, "Come on, let's go!"

Keeping to the forest, Oster's battalion hurried along the route that von Balck had suggested. At one point they heard a motorcycle approaching, Krafft had an MG-42 set up in short order. Turns out there were two. The 42 engaged the Russians, spilling all of the men on the ground. One got up as if to fight back, the 42 knocked him back into the ditch.

"Let's go! Skirmish order!" Oster commanded.

As the men advanced up the track they found a knocked out T-34. Then another, then a third. It appeared as if von Balck's Panthers had accounted for all three reconnaissance tanks. Then as they advanced further, they saw this ...

Source

Oster hissed as he recognized von Balck's personal vehicle, around her were a number of men, some digging, some pulling bodies from the wreck.

Krafft turned to Liesl, "You won't want to see this Liebling." As he said this, the men were pulling charred remains from the Panther's commander's hatch.

"Dear God ..." Liesl murmured.

"A Panzer man's end is never pretty. You don't have to ..."

"I've seen worse, Dieter. That must be Oberst von Balck, may the Lord have mercy on his soul."

It was indeed the body of von Balck. When the Soviets had come up the track, one of the T-34s had spotted von Balck's vehicle, the two had fired at nearly the same time. But as the T-34 was moving, his shot missed. von Balck's had not. But both of the other T-34s had come to a full stop and fired. One of them hit the Panther in a deadly place. Von Balck and his crew all died when the onboard ammunition, what was left of it, went off.

One of the Hermann Goering sergeants approached Oster.

"We belong to you now, Herr Hauptmann. You are the only officer remaining."

"We came as soon as we heard ..."

"Nothing you could have done, Sir. Ivan got in a lucky shot, hopefully the Oberst and his lads didn't feel a thing. Hatches were open so the turret didn't fly off. Not much left to burn inside so the fire was fierce but short-lived. Only the boys in the turret burned."

"Es tut mir Leid,⁵ Oberfeldwebel, but we must be off ..."

"Two of the motorcycles got away ..."

"They didn't get far. Bury your dead, what do we have left?"

"Just the men, the last two Panthers aren't much use, neither has the fuel to move more than a kilometer, and one threw a track which we can't repair, it would take far too long. I'm sure Ivan got off a radio message."

"What about the Wirbelwind?" Oster asked, he had seen the devastation meted out to the Soviet halftracks and the infantry in them.

"No more ammunition, and she's about out of fuel."

"So we all walk to the Elbe. Let's get things sorted, Oberfeldwebel ...?"

"Hartmann, Sir. Rolf Hartmann."

"Good, let's get busy Oberfeldwebel Hartmann, we've got a long ways to go yet. I feel we'll have company soon."

¹ Проклятые наглые мужики = Damned impudent bastards.

² Товарищ полковник = comrade commissar

³ полковник = Colonel

⁴ Outstanding/excellent.

⁵ I'm sorry, Sergeant