Devils with Wings (10 page)

“He will tell you more about it,” continued Volkman, Paul realising that the Oberleutnant was still talking to him, “when he arrives.”

At that moment the orderly returned with the schnapps. He placed the tray, holding a crystal decanter and crystal glasses, no doubt from Volkman’s personal store, on the table between the two Fallschirmjager officers and proceeded to pour each of them a drink. Volkman sat back, clearly waiting for the orderly to finish before he continued his discussion with his junior officer.

The honey coloured drink, along with the crystal glasses, glinted, reflecting the dancing fire. The crackling of the logs, brought back memories of his last Christmas at home in Berlin. Paul had been sat in front of a fire, not dissimilar to this one, with his family, sharing a drink and a joke. But reality was opposite him in the form of his Company Commander.

“Don’t be too miserly with it Bachmeier!” snapped Volkman.

“It’s not every day that we get to drink to the success of two of our Fuhrer’s heroes,” Volkman imparted, clearly in one of his rare good moods.

Promotion and a second Iron Cross naturally contributing to the Raven’s high spirits.

The orderly placed a glass on Volkman’s side table and a second glass for Paul on the bigger coffee table in between the two officers, and then left the room. The orderly had probably tucked himself away in the kitchen or, judging by the size of the cottage, a second room in the back.

Volkman picked up his glass, sniffed at the aroma, a distinctive, but pleasant smell that was already filling the room, adding to the smell of the wood smoke given off by the log fire.

He held his glass up and towards Paul, Paul following suit.

“Here’s to the success of our Battalion, to the success of the Fallschirmjager and to the success of our beloved Third Reich. And of course, to you Leutnant Brand, you show promise and I shall be watching your progress closely. No more cock ups like yesterday though.”

“To success sir,” joined in Paul.

“Is there a spare glass for me, before you two drink it all?” boomed a voice loudly.

They had been so involved in the discussion and the following toast that they didn’t notice the officer stood facing them with the sentry stood behind him.

“I am sorry sir, but the Oberst insisted on walking straight in,” announced the unfortunate sentry looking flustered. But what was he to do, a private soldier; he could hardly stop the Regimental Commander from entering the Company Head Quarters.

“That is all Keller, thank you,” said Volkman standing up to welcome his Regimental Commander.

The sentry saluted and hurried back outside to continue his watch, worried that this might be seen as a lapse in his duties and could reflect on him badly. But the two senior officers, who had more important things to consider, already forgot him.

Paul pushed back his chair and also stood up and both he and Volkman saluted smartly, the Oberst returning the salute with a flick of his right, gloved hand to his cap.

Paul offered the Oberst his chair, but it was refused.

“You stay there, Leutnant Brand, I’m sure the Oberleutnant can conjure up another chair and schnapps of course,” he said smiling.

“Thank you sir,” responded Paul, staying by his recently vacated seat.

Volkman called for the orderly again and a chair and a glass of schnapps was quickly brought in for the Oberst, who now sat adjacent to Paul and Volkman, facing the fire.

Oberst Baum, Paul instantly recognised, was the Commander of the First Fallschirmjager Regiment, FJR1.

Volkman’s Company, part of the first Battalion, came under the command of Baum along with the second and third Battalions and fourteen Panzerabwehrkompanie.

Oberst Bruno Baum was a Fallschirmjager from Willmaischorf, Prussian Silesia, and a Prussian like Oberleutnant Volkman.

He had joined the Army Cadets at the young age of twenty-two, where he started his military career, receiving the Iron Cross First and Second Class while serving in a West Prussian Infantry Regiment, in World War 1.

On joining the Reichswehr, he took command of the first Battalion, General Goring Regiment, the first German unit to become an operational airborne contingent.

In nineteen thirty six, at the not so young age of fifty three, he was the first German paratrooper to jump from an airplane. He became Commander of the 1st Fallschirmjager Regiment, FJR1, in nineteen thirty eight.

Although Paul had seen him before, he had never been this close to his Regimental Commander and was surprised how short he was.

“Well Oberleutnant, what have you told this young aspiring General so far?” he said smiling, looking at Volkman.

“I have informed Leutnant Brand of his and his platoon’s awards and that he has been selected to join a trials Battalion, that is being assembled in Hildesheim. He naturally doesn’t want to move out of an operational unit.”

Baum pulled out a gold cigarette case and took out a cigarette before offering the case and its contents to the two officers, who both refused. Paul didn’t smoke and Volkman only smoked cigars from Cuba.

He lit a cigarette, taking a deep draw before expelling a blue cloud of smoke, which was drawn upwards by the thermals from the fire. Volkman slid an ashtray across the coffee table for his superior to use.

“Disgusting habit young Brand, you remain a non smoker. You still smoking those disgusting cigars Gunther?” It was a rhetorical question, which the Oberleutnant knew he need not answer.

The Oberst brushed cigarette ash off his tunic trousers and drew again on his cigarette, adding to the blue cloud hovering above their heads, and looked at Paul.

“You are to be congratulated Leutnant Brand, I will get a great deal of pleasure presenting yours, and the other recipients, their awards tomorrow.”

“When I was charged with creating the first Fallschirmjager Battalion, it was probably one of the most difficult tasks ever given to me, but it was also my proudest moment. At that moment in my life, I had never flown before, never parachute jumped out of an aircraft and wasn’t even sure what the concept of a paratroop unit was.”

“When we first asked for volunteers, surprisingly there were up to some sixty men who came forward from each company and enrolled. Very soon I had a full Battalion. It has grown since then naturally, to what it is now.”

He looked straight at Paul as he said, “It is men like you, Leutnant Brand, and your Company Commander, that have helped fulfil the dream of an elite force. A force that operates outside of the normal military boundaries. Anyway, enough of my chatter, let’s get down to business.”

Oberleutnant Volkman had heard all of this before, but he never tired of hearing it. He too shared the dream of an elite paratroop unit, that he hoped one day would grow in size and be a key tool used by the military to meet its objectives.

“You too Oberleutnant, the Iron Cross First Class, is a great honour and your promotion is well deserved. I take it that you’ve made Leutnant Brand aware of the change in your circumstances?” Baum looked at Volkman enquiringly.

“Yes sir, but he will keep it confidential until it is officially announced tomorrow.”

“Well, Leutnant Brand,” Baum continued. “I have a new assignment for you and your platoon.”

Before continuing, he stood up and walked around the back of Paul, until he was standing in front of the fire, rubbing his hands together. Turning round, his back now to the fire, his hands clasped behind him absorbing its warmth, he continued. “You are to join Hauptman Kaufmann and Oberleutnant Faust as part of a trials unit to be based in Hildesheim. You will take your platoon with you, to be integrated with Oberleutnant Faust’s engineers.”

He held up his hand to counter any protests Paul might raise.

“I understand your concerns about leaving an operational unit Brand,” continued Baum, recognising Paul’s flickering eyelids, which were probably intimating a mild objection.

He reached down to the coffee table, picking up his glass of schnapps, taking a nip, “Excellent, Oberleutnant, no doubt from your personal cellar?”

The Raven nodded; again he knew he needn’t respond verbally.

He continued, “Poland is all but beaten, and it is unlikely that there will be any further major fighting, the Russians have seen to that, and the likelihood of specialist parachute operations is very doubtful. Enjoy the break young Brand, believe me you will have ample opportunity to get into the thick of it in the very near future. The unit you are being attached to will be training in utmost secrecy and once you leave this room you are not to breathe a word to anyone, do I make myself clear?”

“Yes Herr Oberst,” responded Paul promptly, now all ears and very attentive.

“Oberleutnant Faust and Hauptman Kaufmann will brief you further I’m sure. But, you will have to deal with the disappointment from your platoon. You will only be at liberty to tell them that they will be partaking in an experimental training school. And absolutely nothing to your cronies, Janke and Fleck, they will be kept equally busy elsewhere.”

The Oberst was clearly well informed, thought Paul smiling to himself.

“Right Hauptman Volkman,” the Oberst referring to the Oberleutnant’s new rank, “I shall leave you to your duties and let Leutnant Brand get his Platoon ready for departure, which will be immediately after the presentations are over.”

He placed his now empty glass on the table, and made his way back round to the other side. How he could stand in front of the heat of the fire for so long, Paul couldn’t imagine.

“What about lunch?” asked Volkman.

“I am sorry Gunther, but I have much to do.”

He was handed his cap by the orderly and his two subordinates quickly stood up, saluting their Regimental Commander. He returned their salutes and left as quickly and as quietly as he had arrived.

The snap of the sentry coming to attention could be heard clearly outside, probably caught unawares again by his illusive Regimental Commander.

The Raven remained standing and Paul followed suit, clearly the meeting was over and he was being dismissed.

“The presentations are tomorrow, and immediately after that, and I mean immediately, your platoon will be transported to Pulawy railway station and trained to Hildesheim.”

The meeting over, Paul saluted, turned sharply to the right and left the HQ. On his return to the cottage his thoughts were a maelstrom and he was oblivious to all around him. The village, the villagers and the saluting soldiers passing him were not even seen or heard and he was surprised to find himself suddenly outside his billet.

He was sat on a bench, under an old oak tree, a five-minute walk from the village confines, overlooking a small pasture. He was watching a local Polish farmer tending his cattle and his smallholding.

Back in Germany, his Uncle would have put his cattle in the barn by now, keeping them under cover during the winter months, feeding them fodder saved during the summer months.

When he stayed there during holidays, his Uncle used to pay his nephew pocket money for helping him feed them and muck them out. It was likely that this local farmer did not have a barn, but maybe a coral somewhere where he could feed and keep watch over them during the winter solstice.

Paul wondered if the farmer’s life was simple, without the worries of command, without the many intricacies of military life, not having to comply with the day-to-day demands of the German military machine.

But, he knew deep down, he would never want to trade places. This farmer’s life was probably spent surviving. Breeding his animals and growing enough food to feed his family, and maybe a little left over to sell for a few luxuries.

Paul cogitated about his meeting with Erich and Helmut after his audience with his Company and Regimental Commanders. It had not gone well.

The conversation with his friends had been quite difficult. They both knew that he had been to see the Raven, and it soon became common knowledge that Oberst Baum, the Regimental Commander, had also been in attendance.

On explaining to them that his platoon would be attached to an experimental training unit in Hildesheim, for them it didn’t quite hang true. Erich in particular was struggling to match Paul’s story with the urgency of the meeting earlier that day.

For the first time since they had known each other, since meeting up at the Stendal training camp, they felt uncomfortable in each other’s presence. Erich because of Paul’s evasiveness, and Paul because he was not being open and truthful with his friend.

There wasn’t a rift between them, but there was certainly an estrangement.

He heard the rustle of grass behind him and turned to see Max approaching, powerfully striding through the field, his gait obvious at any distance. His brooding time was over, it was time to leave the farmer and return to his military existence.

“Leutnant, the Platoon will be assembled in the hour as you requested sir,” reported Max, saluting as he did so.

“Thank you Max, come and sit down. Rest your weary limbs for a few minutes.”

Max joined his Platoon Commander on the bench. “Is all well with you sir?” enquired Max, clearly concerned as to what he perceived was a mood of despondency.