The Refugee Column

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"How deep is the river here?" Krafft was worried, though the river looked placid, he wasn't all that familiar with it.

Liesl answered, "One meter fifty, at most two meters ..."

"Deep enough that we can't really get across at no risk. The shorter people will need help." Lang pointed out.

One of the men, an older reservist, stepped forward. "We could make a human chain, the stronger men go first, then the rest follow. We link arms, pull each other through the water."

"I see a problem with that." Krafft spoke.

"Just one?" Lang offered.

With very little daylight left, they made the crossing. The current near the middle of the Spree was much stronger than anyone had anticipated. One of the younger men, a small fellow, was swept away before anyone could do anything.

But they had, for the most part, made it across. They had lost one of the MG 42s, the man carrying it had nearly been swept away as well, Krafft had told him to let the gun go. He had, saving his life but reducing the platoon's firepower by a good third. Krafft had stopped referring to it as a company a few days ago.

"Rations are soaked, we still have a good amount of ammunition, we lost the one gun but we didn't lose it's ammo. But without rations? We might be well and truly screwed." Lang had done an inventory, the ration bread was ruined, a number of the men still had sealed tins of meat.

"We'll have to make do, perhaps we can scrounge something from one of the local farms." Liesl had suggested.

Krafft thought for a moment, "That will be a last resort. I doubt any of the farms around here have anything left. Remember the refugee columns in Silesia? It'll be the same here, people will take everything they can carry. First to be discarded will be furniture and the like, the last thing they'll dump is food."

Fortunately the temperatures that night were mild. Everyone had taken their clothes off and wrung them out as best they could. Krafft had noticed that a couple of the younger men had stolen a glance in Liesl's direction when she was undressing. One look from him though, and they were back about their own business. By morning everyone was feeling a bit better about their situation. Krafft couldn't believe their optimism. Perhaps they didn't know any better.

"We'll hole up here today, there's a major road across the next ridge which we need to get across. But we won't make the attempt until dark. Everyone get some rest."

When night fell, the men moved out. When they got to the base of the small ridge which separated the river from the highway, Krafft had the men wait there. He and Lang went forward, Liesl insisted on going with them. Lang pointed out that she was the only one who knew the area. So Krafft agreed, reluctantly.

Upon reaching the crest of the ridge Krafft pulled out his field glasses. Below them, maybe half a kilometer away, he could make out a refugee column. Wagons and carts, drawn by people, he could see no animals in evidence, clogged the road, all headed west.

As he watched, he heard the drone of aircraft engines, approaching fast. Moments later flares popped overhead, lighting the scene below. Then the Soviet Sturmoviks swooped in, cannons blazing.

It was apparent to Krafft that the pilots didn't care one way or the other whether they were strafing a military column or a refugee column. To the men in those machines, they were Germans and that's all that mattered. They were killing Germans.

Within minutes it was over. The two men and one women could hear the screams coming from the wreckage of the column, Krafft stayed motionless, how was he supposed to react to such a thing? Lang though, saw an opportunity.

"Wait here, Liesl, I'm going to bring the men up. We cross now." He then disappeared into the dark.

Liesl gripped Krafft's arm, "Dieter, we need to move. Kurt is bringing up the others." Then she noticed it, in the dim lights of the burning column below, she could see tears streaming down his cheeks. His eyes looked glazed over. She was truly worried that Dieter had reached his breaking point.

She heard the rushing steps behind them, coming up the ridge. She waved the men forward, but grabbed Lang when he stopped to see what was wrong.

"It's Dieter, I don't know what's wrong with him."

Lang took one look and said, "Grab his left arm, I'll get his right. Come on old boy, we need to get you across this road. It's not your time yet."

Krafft let himself be led down the ridge and through the wreckage of the refugee column. Some of the survivors, recognizing their uniforms, cursed the men of the platoon as cowards.

"Stay and fight, you craven bastards." One old man had hissed at them. He sat in the road, blood pooling underneath him from a bad wound in his leg. He was holding an older woman in his arms, obviously someone he cared about, perhaps his wife?

"Fight what? The storm birds? Do you see any anti-aircraft guns about?"

Lang had told the man who spoke to shut his mouth and move. They kept moving until they were well into the forest south of the road with it's ruined lives.

Krafft sat heavily. He didn't say a word, he just continued to stare into the distance.

"Keep an eye on him, I'll be back."

Lang had taken two men and returned to the road. They were after food, and they found enough to sustain the platoon for a few more days. One of the men had protested, "What will those people eat?"

Lang had shaken his head, "Ivan's armor will be here later today, or tomorrow. These folks don't stand a chance. Ivan will simply run them over or shoot them. We need the food, they don't."

Eventually the insistence in Liesl's voice brought Krafft out of his torpor. He shook his head, noticed that he still had his field glasses in hand, so he put them away. He turned to look at Liesl, his eyes reflected nothing but war and loss. Then he realized where he was, who she was, and his look softened.

"How long?"

"Only a few minutes."

"When the Ivans strafed the column, I couldn't help myself, everything seems so futile. I believe the Soviets won't stop until they kill us all."

"So we just stop and let them? Or do we stay alive and rebuild Germany?"

Krafft's laugh was bitter. "Rebuild Germany? After what we've done?"

She slapped him, hard, "We're not all Nazis. Wake up!"

Lang came over before the conversation could continue, "Can I interrupt this lover's spat and suggest we keep moving? We have food now and ..."

"Food? From where?" Liesl looked back towards the wreckage of the column, then she understood.

"Yes, we took it from the dead, the dying, and those about to die. I'd rather stay alive for now. You?"

They moved off, deeper into the forest, heading south before turning to the west.