The End

Source

"We look pathetic," Lang sighed as he looked at the column.

Without weapons, equipment and helmets, shaggy and unwashed, their greatcoats stained with mud, the platoon didn't look like soldiers anymore. Krafft had to agree with Lang, they looked pathetic.

But they were alive.

Backus had radioed his superior in Magdeburg concerning the prisoners he had gathered up. He didn't tell the man that they had come across the Elbe. His commander was a lazy man who would have told him to send them back to the Soviets, rather than have to deal with them himself. So that little detail was left out.

As it turned out, Backus' commanding officer had met a lady in Magdeburg who he was spending a lot of time with, time he'd rather spend with her than with doing his job.

"How many of the bastards did you bag?" the man wanted to know.

"Roughly forty, Sir. They were separated from their unit, had no support and were tired of fighting, I guess."

"You guess, Captain? The army doesn't pay you to guess."

"Does it really matter what their motivation for surrendering was, Sir? We've got them, I propose to take 'em to Helmstedt, according to messages I've received the army is setting up a collection point for refugees and POWs there."

"Helmstedt, huh?" there was a pause on the line, Backus swore he heard a woman giggling in the background. "Fine, take your whole platoon, we're pulling out anyway, the entire outfit's pulling back to the area around Brunswick."

Backus checked his map, yup, what the American army called Brunswick was Braunschweig to the Germans. It wasn't far from Helmstedt. "We'll pull out tomorrow morning, Sir. Can we get a couple of trucks for the POWs?"

"Hell, Backus, I'm looking at my map, it's like what, 40 miles? Hell, the bastards can still walk can't they?"

"Well, yes, but ..." the line had gone dead. The last thing he'd heard was a woman calling for his commander to "come back to bed."

Niemeyer looked up as Backus came into the shed by the ferry landing, "You look like you've seen better days, Herr Hauptmann."

Backus nodded, "I have but that's a story for another day. Have the prisoners ready to move out tomorrow morning. We're marching to Helmstedt."

"That's sixty kilometers, that's a half-day's walk, in your trucks you could do it in a couple of hours."

"Unfortunately all I have is the two trucks parked outside the townhall, for my men and equipment."

"But certainly you could use them to move the prisoners, they aren't going to run away and ..."

"We're leaving as well, Herr Niemeyer. We've been ordered to pull back to Magdeburg, but you didn't hear that from me. Now if any of your folks need a ride to Helmstedt ..."

"But why would ..." then it struck Niemeyer, the Amis were leaving them to the mercy of the Red Army. "This is insane, Herr Hauptmann, you're leaving us to the verdammte Kommunisten¹!"

"Not my call, Herr Niemeyer. You know as well as I do, 'Befehl ist Befehl.'"² Backus was obviously not happy about this situation. "How many people are left in the village, Horst?"

Niemeyer was surprised, Backus had never addressed him by his given name before, "Perhaps a hundred and fifty, more or less."

"How many capable of walking, oh let's say, sixty kilometers?"

Niemeyer looked at Backus, he wondered if the man was proposing they evacuate their homes.

"Most of them, there are seven or so elderly who might not be able, but we have carts ..."

"Let me make it easy for you, Horst. Have those who wish to accompany us to Helmstedt form up in the village square, by the church, at first light tomorrow. Make sure everyone understands that to stay here is to possibly live under the Russians. It's not certain, but that's what we're hearing."

"When can we return?" Niemeyer had a sick feeling deep in his gut.

"Who can say? I would plan for a very long wait before you could return, if ever."

Niemeyer nodded, "Danke, Herr Hauptmann, I will speak to the people. I will see you tomorrow morning at any rate."

Captain Backus, United States Army, looked over the crowd of people. Well, perhaps a hundred people, not much of a crowd, but in the small square, it seemed like a lot. Horst Niemeyer had told him before sunrise that none of the villagers would be leaving.

"After all, we survived the Nazis, I'm sure we can survive the Communists. There are those in the village who will welcome the change. They say you Americans are too ill-disciplined and Germans need a firm had over them."

Backus shook his head, "Well, I don't know about that, but I understand that people don't want to give up what they know."

"I also have a personal favor to ask of you, Herr Hauptmann."

"And that is?"

"Can you overlook the loss of two prisoners?"

"Krafft and Schmitz, the two love birds, correct?"

"Yes Sir, that is correct."

"Are they staying here?"

"For now, I suppose. They wish to be married by our pastor, as soon as possible."

"I see. Very well, my boss doesn't really care for that matter, so perhaps I shouldn't as well."

"Thank you, if you ever come this way again ..."

"Danke, Herr Niemeyer."

"So I guess this is it." Lang said as he looked around, trying to keep his emotions in check.

"I suppose it is." Krafft was also struggling to keep his composure.

Lang nodded, then snapped to attention, "It has been an honor, Herr Stabsfeldwebel," as he snapped a very crisp army-style salute.

Krafft came to attention as well, returning his old comrade's salute. "Take care of yourself, you old reprobate."

"I will and I have no doubt that Liesl here will have you fully domesticated within a month or so."

Liesl smiled, "It may take a little longer than that but ..." she then hugged Lang, hard. "Do take care, Kurt. Find a good woman, settle down."

Lang was blushing fiercely, he stepped back, gave a short bow and said, "I will, gnädige Frau. If I can find one as special as yourself that is."

Then he turned and walked to the head of the column of German prisoners of war. He stopped and faced the column and barked out the orders. When the column stepped off, though they still looked bedraggled and hard used, pathetic was not a word anyone would use to describe them.

They looked like soldiers.

¹ Damned Communists.

² An order is an order.

Not Quite in the Fire ...

Source

Liesl took Krafft's hand and looked at Niemeyer, "My name is Frau Liesl Schmitz, my family name is Baumgartner. My husband was killed in action at Stalingrad, as to me being Stabsfeldwebel Krafft's wife, all I can say is we're not yet married. But we intend to be. We met in my husband's home village, to the east of Berlin and ..."

Niemeyer looked at her, "You've walked all that way? With the Russians howling up from behind?"

Krafft stepped in, "Something like that, Herr Niemeyer. First things first, where is this Backus fellow and do you have any food, my men are not quite starving but they are hungry. And we've come rather a long way."

Niemeyer blinked once, then twice, looking at Krafft, then at Frau Schmitz, "Of course, where are my manners? The Americans brought food. I'll see to it immediately. As for Hauptmann Backus, we should see him now. If you'll come with me."

Niemeyer led Krafft and Frau Schmitz to a modest dwelling, not far from the ferry landing. Krafft stopped in the street.

"There are no sentries?"

"No, of course not, this is my home. If you wait here, I'll go get the American ..."

"Horst? What is this? Do we have guests?" A middle-aged woman came out of the house, drying her hands with a small towel. Obviously, to Liesl at any rate, this had to be Frau Niemeyer.

"Ah, yes, a party of soldiers have just come across the river, this is their leader and his, uh, wife." Niemeyer answered his lady.

"Come, come now, come inside, it's far too blustery a day to be standing out in the street. Would you care for some tea?" As Frau Niemeyer herded them into the house, Krafft looked somewhat nervous.

"No need to worry, Stabsfeldwebel, if this was a trap would I leave you with my wife? I'll bring Hauptmann Backus here, you two can chat and then we'll proceed from there. Is this acceptable?"

Before Krafft could answer, Frau Niemeyer handed him a cup of very nice smelling tea. It had been months since he'd had a cup of tea. He took a sip, then said, "You're in charge here, Herr Niemeyer."

As Niemeyer hustled out of the door, his wife shook her head, "Horst? In charge? He wishes. Now come, come sit down."

"So you took it upon yourself to bring them over the river? Rather dangerous don't you think, Herr Niemeyer?" Captain Backus, United States Army, asked as he ushered Niemeyer into his office in the town hall. The two men were speaking German, a language Backus had been rather rusty with until ten months ago.

"What should I have done, Herr Hauptmann? Leave them to the Russians?"

"Well, my boss may want to do just that. Where are these men now?"

"I have them stashed away, I'm feeding them as well. Their commander is at my house. He and his, uh, wife are with my wife."

"Well, I suppose I should go speak with this fellow. These boys aren't SS are they?"

"Heaven forbid, I would let those bastards rot on the other side of the river, these boys are army, roughly used I'll add. They've marched from east of Berlin to here. According to their commander, they've marched well over two-hundred and fifty kilometers. Their main goal was to get to this side of the Elbe and surrender to the Americans."

Backus nodded, "All right, take me to this fellow and his, his wife did you say?"

"Yes Sir, something like that."

Backus shook his head, Herr Niemeyer was hiding something, he could tell.

"So Frau Schmitz, you are a Wehrmachthelferin?" Backus was looking at her papers, something seemed somewhat "off" about them.

"No Sir, my papers are forged, it was a device so that I could stay with my husband." Liesl glanced at Krafft when she said that.

"Frau Niemeyer, would you have clothing which might fit the young lady?"

"Well, yes, I suppose. Let me get something, come with me Frau Schmitz."

As the two women went upstairs, Backus looked at Krafft. "Forged papers in wartime, wearing a uniform you're not entitled to, you're lucky the Russians or the Kettenhunde didn't catch up to you."

Krafft grinned at Backus' use of the term "chained dogs" for the Feldgendarmerie, "Yes, Herr Hauptmann, serious indeed. But desperate times ..."

"And is she really your wife?"

"No Sir, but we intend to make that official as soon as we can."

Backus stood up and began to pace in the Niemeyer's small kitchen, "It is my understanding that this village and the entire province of Magdeburg is to fall into the Soviet Union's zone of occupation. My commander has sent word from Magdeburg to 'not get comfortable' as he anticipates that we will fall back to the west once Berlin is captured. So, you gentlemen," he looked at Krafft, "present something of a problem for us."

"How so, Sir?"

"There have been many German units fleeing to American lines in the hopes of not being taken by the Soviets. Some have been turned away, not allowed to cross our lines. My commander doesn't like Germans, not at all. I doubt he would accept my accepting your surrender." Backus stopped talking and looked out the window for a bit.

Turning back to Niemeyer and Krafft, Backus asked, "Do either of you have any ideas? I personally don't like the Russians, my mother's family is Polish, they have an intense dislike for Russians and that's something I inherited from my Polish grandmother. So, what do we do?"

They were back at the warehouse, although Liesl had stayed with Niemeyer's wife. "It's best this way," Frau Niemeyer had insisted.

Herr Niemeyer spoke briefly with Krafft, "If you think of something, anything ..."

"I'll try, but no matter what, thank you for your help so far. My second-in-command, Unteroffizier Lang, saw Russian scout cars across the river this morning. He's worried they'll bridge the river and ..."

"Not yet, for now we are in the American zone, if what Backus says is true, it won't happen for some time yet. Weeks, not days. So Ivan will stay on his side of the river. To put on a good face, I had Herr Driessler scuttle the ferry."

"Scuttle?"

"Opened the seacock, which flooded her, and then let the ferry settle to the bottom of the landing. She's fine and can be pumped out fairly quickly, but to the casual observer, she's not useable."

"Will that fool the Americans?" Krafft asked.

"Good question. They are a somewhat gullible people but awfully clever. They're also unpredictable. Backus will probably see through our little ruse, his commander probably won't. He's an arrogant bastard who sees what he wants to see. Hopefully he stays in Magdeburg."

"So for now?" Krafft asked.

"We wait, if it helps you sleep tonight, Frau Niemeyer is trying to round up civilian clothing for your men, the right papers though ..."

"Tell her to stop, if we're caught out of uniform, the Amis could shoot us."

Niemeyer nodded, "We'll see about that. Get some sleep, Stabsfeldwebel and we shall see what tomorrow brings."

Out of the Frying Pan ...

Source

"What can you see?" Lang was impatient, the sun was up and it looked like it was going to be a lovely spring day. Which meant that the sky was clear and the Jabos would be out in force.

"There are people moving around near the boat, which appears to be intact, civilians. I don't see any Amis or Ivans."

"A good thing, ja?" Liesl offered.

"Indeed, schatzi, provided they're not busy doing something else."

"I have an idea." Krafft looked at Lang.

"Give me the rag, I'm going to step out and wave it. See if they respond." Lang's idea seemed reasonable, but ...

"Seems risky." Krafft pointed out.

"So is remaining here for much longer."

Friedrich Driessler looked up from his work and saw something on the far bank of the Elbe. What in the world?

"Hey Horst, guck mal da¹!"

There was a man, in a uniform from the look of it, waving a white cloth tied to the end of what looked like a rifle. Driessler's eyesight wasn't as good as it once was.

Horst Niemeyer came out of the shed next to the dock. He looked first at Driessler who was repairing a line, then across the river. Fortunately the sun went behind a cloud, lessening the glare off the water of the river.

Niemeyer walked down to Driessler, "Looks like one of our boys, probably running from the Russians. What do you think, run the boat over and pick him up?"

"It's your ferry, Horst, you do what you will, but what will the Amis say?"

Rogätz had a small American army garrison, roughly a platoon of service troops. Their commander, Captain William Backus, was an easy-going sort. He spoke German, which he had learned from his grandmother, and got along well with the people in the area.

"We could ask the Hauptmann," Niemeyer suggested, "or we could just go over and get him. Hauptmann Backus shouldn't mind too much."

"I think you've already made up your mind, Horst."

"Cast off for me, won't you?"

Lang watched with great interest as the ferry began to move. Without looking towards them, he told Krafft and Frau Schmitz, "Ferry is on its way. Shall we wait until it gets here before you pop out? Let me talk to them first. No need to startle anyone."

It didn't take long for the boat to get to the bank, Lang grinned as the older man aboard the boat came out and tossed him a line. Which he tied haphazardly to a nearby bollard.

The man came ashore and stuck his hand out, "Niemeyer, 33rd Fusilier Regiment, of course, that was a long time ago."

Lang grinned and took the man's hand, "Lang, Füsilier Regiment 78, II. Bataillon, small world, ja?"

"Aren't you going to introduce me to your friends?" Niemeyer gestured with his chin towards the thick brush farther down the bank.

Lang waited a moment, this was somewhat unexpected.

"We can't stand here all day swapping yarns, there's an American garrison in Rogätz and if any of them see the ferry over here, they might ask questions." Niemeyer was anxious to get back to the other side of the river.

"Russians make you nervous, Opa²?" Lang scoffed.

"Having fought the bastards, yes. Seen any recently?"

"They're not up to the river in force yet, from our understanding they are focused on Berlin. Is the capital still holding out?"

"I've no idea and what's more, I don't care. Now are you lot coming or not?"

When the remainder of the men filed onboard, Lang cast off the line and hurried to jump aboard.

Niemeyer saw this and called out, "Russians make you nervous, Junge?"

Lang laughed and made a rude gesture at the older man.

Once upon the western bank of the Elbe, Niemeyer told Krafft and his people that they should take shelter in a small warehouse near the ferry landing. Then he asked, "Do any of you speak English?"

The young radioman raised his hand, "I speak a little."

Another man stood up and walked up to Niemeyer and Krafft. Krafft introduced him as Gefreiter Peter Müller.

"Why didn't I know you spoke English, Peter?" Krafft asked.

"We were fighting Russians, I didn't think it a useful skill."

"I remember the memo that went around in the fall of 1944, some SS fellow named Skorzeny was looking for men who spoke English for a special mission. Did you answer that call?" Krafft was wondering if the man really spoke English.

"I don't know Staber, we're losing the war, the SS want men who can speak English, then we hear of a lost offensive in the snows of the Ardennes, probably a bad move. Besides which, I like the Americans, I lived in Milwaukee for a couple of years before the war."

"You lived in America?" Krafft was amazed.

"Teaching the Amis how to make beer was a good job." Müller had a wistful smile on his face when he said that.

"All right," turning to Niemeyer he said, "I guess Müller is your man. How are we going to do this?"

"I don't know. I'm not sure how to explain to Hauptmann Backus how thirty German soldiers are suddenly in his sitting room."

"Our goal is to surrender, not fight the Amis. Surely this Backus fellow will understand."

"I'm sure he will, it's his commanding officer I'm worried about. He's an Oberstleutnant with his headquarters in Magdeburg. He's not a very friendly sort. On the plus side, Hauptmann Backus is Volksdeutsch³ and speaks our language. He might be sympathetic to your situation. His commander might toss you back over the river if ... Mein Gott!"

He had just noticed Liesl Schmitz at the back of the group.

"You have a Wehrmachthelferin with you?" Niemeyer looked worried.

"Yes, why?"

"When you surrender, they will separate her from you, is that a problem?"

Krafft felt his heart sink, "Yes, it is."

Niemeyer nodded, then he gestured at Liesl, "Fräulein, come with me please."

"Where are you taking her?" Krafft bristled.

"To my wife, we'll get her a change of clothes, she can stay with us."

It was Liesl's turn to look concerned, "What if I don't want to do that?"

Niemeyer shook his head, "Alright, one problem at a time. Arranging your surrender, then we'll worry about the young lady."

"It's Frau, not Fräulein." Liesl spoke up.

Niemeyer looked from Krafft to Liesl, "She is your wife?"

Krafft waited for a heartbeat, then said, "Not exactly."

¹ Look there!

² Grandpa

³ A term for ethnic Germans.

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.

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.