The Commissar

Source

Upon reaching the next stretch of forest where they could remain undercover during the day, Oster's battalion went to ground. Before anyone ate or slept, fighting positions were dug, areas of responsibility were laid out, and finally the machine guns were placed. As long as their MG 42s could be utilized, the battalion had a chance.

Krafft noted that they were on the reverse of a slight slope once everyone was settled in. He ate some ration bread and the last bit of sawdust sausage he had in his bread bag, then decided to do a little exploring. He always liked to "know the neighborhood" of anyplace he planned on laying his head.

He checked in with the captain, letting him know that Lang would be on top of things in his absence, then he set out.

As he made his way up the slope, he noted that there was a lot of underbrush, unusual for a German forest, perhaps the nearest village was just too far away for the locals to maintain this stretch of forest. Then again, many of those capable of such work were likely to be wearing a uniform in a far away place. Those still alive.

It was getting lighter but Krafft realized that it was later than he thought when he glanced at his wrist watch. A drop of rain hit his cheek, that's why it was still dark out.

He began to regret his kleiner Spaziergang¹ as the rain started to fall harder. It was still cold enough that he could feel sleet mixed with the rain. He thought for a moment about returning to the bivouac when he heard something familiar, and concerning.

Just over the hill were mortars, plural, and from the sounds of the men manning them, they were Russian mortars.

Krafft crept up to the crest and carefully looked below, sure enough the Ivans were here and from the look of it they were firing on some Germans just ahead, in the direction Oster's battalion wanted to go.

"Did you see how many and what type?" Oster was looking at his map as Krafft reported what he had seen.

"Eight tubes, 82 millimeter, so I'm thinking a battalion mortar company?"

"And they were firing in this direction?" Oster pointed out the direction on his map.

"Yes, I got a rough compass reading, then I decided that discretion was the better part of valor. And you'd want to know."

"Hhmm, we can barely hear them from here, I would have never guessed they were so close. Did you see any sign of the rest of that Red battalion?"

"No Sir, my guess is that their infantry are forward and preparing to assault whoever it is they're bombarding."

"That's a good guess."

Oster sat quietly for a moment, then spoke again, "Get a small group up on that ridge, let Lang lead them. Observe but do nothing else. If Ivan looks like he's going to move out, report that to me. Right now I want the men to rest up and get something to eat, then ..."

"With all due respect, Sir, that's a really bad idea." Lang interrupted the captain in mid-thought.

Oster glared at him but held his temper in check, "Because?"

"Sir, the men know Ivan is just over the ridge, they're pretty keyed up. Do you seriously think anyone is going to be able to sleep, or eat, knowing that? You want to hit them, I know you do, but why wait? Kill the bastards, then move out. It's raining, no aircraft will be up in this mess. We can move in the light ..." Lang paused then stabbed the map, "to here. It's at a ninety degree bearing from where the Russians are attacking, it should throw them off. We kill, then we hide again."

"What about our fellow Germans being attacked?" Krafft asked. "Do we ignore them?"

Oster stood up, "For now, yes. Get the men ready, I want one of the 42s up on that ridge. Everybody else be ready to move. We kill the Russians then we head in the direction Lang suggested. I hope you lads are up for a long day, we might be on the move until nightfall. Then into the night as well."

The Russian mortarmen were young men, their uniforms looked very new. There were two or three grizzled veterans teaching them their trade. After all, why train in the rear when they could learn on the job, so to speak? Firing live rounds at actual enemies of the Rodina² seemed a far better use of ammunition.

Nevertheless, rookie and veteran both went down and went down hard under the fire of the German MG 42 on the ridge above them. Rifle and machine pistol fire killed those who weren't killed by the machine gun.

Oster had his men ransacking the Russians' equipment and personal belongings, grabbing anything which might be useful. One man suggested grabbing the Russians weapons as they had plenty of ammunition.

"Nein, if we encounter one of our units during a firefight, we'll sound like Russians. We use our own weapons."

As he turned to check his map against the visible terrain to the west, not easy as the rain and mist obscured much, he heard Krafft call to him.

Over by one of the Russian mortar tubes Krafft had his weapon leveled at a man on the ground. "Bastard was trying to hide."

Oster looked at the man on the ground, he was a commissar.

"Hitler says we're supposed to shoot them on sight." Krafft pointed out.

Oster looked around in an exaggerated manner, "Funny, I don't see the Führer here anywhere."

Krafft shook his head then nearly jumped out of his skin when Oster fired his MP 40 into the commissar, killing him instantly.

"We kill the enemy, we can't take prisoners. Hesitation like that will get us killed Dieter. You of all men should know that."

Krafft nodded, "You're right, Sir. Maybe I'm tired of killing."

"Are you tired of living as well, Mensch?³"

Krafft looked over at Liesl, who was stripping a canteen from a corpse, "No Sir, not yet."

"Very well." Turning to the rest of the men he shouted, "Let's move out, we've got ten kilometers to go and in case you hadn't noticed, the rain is slowing down. If the clouds clear, we're f**ked. Let's move!"

¹ Little stroll.

² Родина - the Motherland

³ Man, human.