Devils with Wings: Silk Drop (27 page)

The unit stopped, Paul and his platoon commanders scanning their frontage and their flanks. Above them to the right, a well worn track snaked down towards them, standing out white against the multiple shades of green, its route lined by the ever present olive trees. Above this path was a terrace of sorts, with flat green balconies, trees flourishing in lines, clearly cultivated by local farmers or fruit growers. Reddish brown earth sloping down to the next balcony, at least a dozen could be seen. To the left more terracing, but shallower and not man made, weathered and fashioned by heavy rains and tumbling waters that would have rushed down to the ever narrowing gully during the rainy season. They got up from their crouch, Paul satisfied that they were on their own, the men left behind would fire a warning shot if the village was being re-occupied.

A kilometre into the gully and the boundary started to close in, the sides steepening, the terrain rougher as they reached the defile. They moved deeper in to it, claustrophobic after the more open, wider section they had just traversed. Its sides climbing steeply above them, as if swallowing them up. The terraces were now gone, replaced by craggy rock on both sides, lone, dwarf sized trees clinging to its sides, struggling to eke out a living on the dry bare ledges. The occasional clump of yellow gorse was the only true colour to break up the dark grey sides. The ground under foot steadily deteriorated, unremittingly testing their limb articulation and balance, teasing the paratroopers with a sense of firmness, only to give way, jolting a leg. The occasional curse indicating a trap had been sprung, a Fallschirmjager suddenly finding himself on the ground, much to the amusement of his comrades, but who intensified their search for similar traps.

They continued to make their way through the ever narrowing gap until the track they were on was only a couple of metres wide, forcing the column into single file, the company now strung out along a nearly two hundred metre stretch. The narrow gorge continued for half a kilometre before it came to an end, as if slowly opening its jaws, allowing the troopers to stagger their position, the feeling of claustrophobia dispelled. But, they had felt hidden, secure, in the defile, but now, with still a couple of hours of daylight to go, they felt exposed. The land in front of them now levelled out before dropping away again in the distance where they would probably turn east.

Paul called a halt, the view of Hania again in front of him. The sea was bright blue, darker than the pale blue sky that met it. The town sitting in the inverted triangle, between the slopes coming down to border it. The occasional house could be seen dotted on the slopes as they became shallower the closer you got to the town.

He gathered his officers and senior NCOs about him, the rest of the company searching for a comfortable piece of ground to rest, others, under orders, were laying out the recognition signs should one of their Luftwaffe comrades choose to fly over. Some took the opportunity to quench their unremitting thirst, the sun beating down baking their steel helmets. That aside, they were still alert, aware that they were advancing deeper into enemy territory.

Now they were out of the gorge, they could again hear the muffled sound of fighting below them. Although they wished they could be there, supporting their comrades in their struggle to subdue the enemy, they were still recuperating from their own fast moving firefight. Up since three in the morning, they were all experiencing a weariness that was dragging at their limbs, sleep clawing at their tired eyes.

Although Paul couldn’t see Rethymnon from their current position, it was some fifty Kilometres east of Hania, they could hear the Luftwaffe attacking targets in and around the town, the Junkers transport aircraft following, dropping their cargo of Fallschirmjager as the second wave of the day was initiated. First battalion of the second Fallschirmjager Regiment landing north of Adele and west of Stavromenos, with the third battalion making a landing between Perivolia and Platinais. A second group was assaulting southwest of Stavromenos.

Paul called his men to order.

“I want five Listening Posts out, we’re bivouacking here tonight. Viktor, you’re responsible for our route of advance and eastern arc. Put your LPs fifty metres out, no more.”

“Jawohl, Herr Oberleutnant.”

“Dietrich, cover our left flank and rear. The ground to our left is less steep, so put two out to our left, one at fifty and one at a hundred. And one behind us of course.”

“Jawohl, Herr Oberleutnant.”

“My platoon sir?” asked Leeb, not wanting his platoon left out of any duties.

“You’re to take a patrol further down the gully. I want to know if there are any surprises for us tomorrow.”

“A full troop sir?”

“Yes, if you come up against a significant force you may have to fight your way out, although the darkness will give you some cover. Don’t take third troop, give Braemer chance to settle into his new command.”

“How far down sir?”

“Not much more than half a kilometre Ernst, beyond the level ground it drops down again and we don’t know what the route is like, yet. Leave your main kit here, travel light. If we need to bug out, I will leave some men here to cover your withdrawal. Unterfeldwebel Richter, have just one of your tubes set up to cover Leutnant Leeb’s withdrawal should he need it. Keep the rest packed in case we need to move quickly.”

Richter nodded his acknowledgement.

“Sir.”

“Rotate the LPs sir?” asked Nadel.

“I would advise not Leutnant, the ground is too treacherous and they would make too much noise in the dark. I suggest we have three man LPs, allowing them to stay in situ and take it in turns to get some sleep.”

“Good point Feldwebel Grun, all LPs to have three men rather than the usual two,” ordered Paul.

“What time for the patrol sir?”

“Make it one, so make sure the troop gets some sleep before you go. We’ll be losing light soon, so I want everyone fed, in position and ready within the hour.”

The officers and NCOs dispersed, orders were given and preparations made.

***

The three Fallschirmjager scrambled up the forty degree slope on the fringe of the company’s left. It was only fifty metres to the first LP, but the ground beneath them was not allowing for easy movement. They found a spot in the centre of a patch of scrub, where if they lay down they would be invisible to anyone other than someone standing over them.

The occasional tree clinging to the side of the gully were too thinly spaced to hide any advancing infantry, not that they could necessarily be seen in the dark anyway. They felt sure that any approaching troops traversing the side of the slope would be heard by either LP well before they would be seen.

They had agreed a rota and Blau put his head down on a softer piece of gravel and was asleep almost as soon as his head had touched the floor. The LP moving back up the gully over the ground they had recently traversed quickly got into position as did the one covering tomorrow’s route of advance. The LP covering the eastern flank found it harder, the ground being much steeper. The rest of the company settled down for the night, the heat of the day swiftly evaporating leaving a blanket of cold over the men, who less than an hour ago were sweltering in the baking sun.

Leeb had his men gathered around him, cicada’s chirping in the background, the air cool and fresh. Their faces recently blackened with a concoction of mud and earth. Their packs were secreted with their comrades, stealth being the watchword for this patrol. Each man jumped up and down, checking for loose equipment or anything that could create noise. Satisfied the patrol was ready he led his scouting party quietly north, picking their way through sleeping troopers, the sentries on duty for each platoon watching them go. Leeb was followed by Uffz Konrad and nine other members of second troop.

They made contact with the forward LP who was expecting them, agreed a password for their return, and then headed out into the darkness leaving the safety of the camp perimeter. They advanced slowly, step by step, treading carefully, weapons at the ready, ears alert for any sound that stood out above their carefully placed feet as they progressed across the flat ground.

Fifteen minutes on and the ground started to fall away again, one minute they were enclosed by a few, heavily foliaged trees, the next minute they were in completely open ground, the sides of the gully disappearing above them on both sides, the Cicada’s restarting as they left them behind. Having advanced over five hundred metres, Leeb slowed the pace even further as the gully opened up again, occasionally stopping to look and listen, convinced that the small tree or undergrowth ahead was a person. Seconds later the undergrowth seemed to move, staring back. They would blink and it became what it truly was again, a tree or bush and the patrol continued.

Leeb halted the troop, squinting his eyes, looking deep into the darkness, sure he could see a regular shape ahead. He motioned Konrad forward and whispered in his ear.

“I’m sure there’s something ahead. Keep the troop here, I’ll take Muller and Kempf with me.”

“Ok sir.” He called the two men forward.

Along with their platoon commander they ghost walked towards the area that had attracted Leeb’s attention. They lifted their legs high to avoid any grass or scrub and placed them back down gently, checking for anything that could break or crack, as they put their weight back down, giving their position away. Even though it was cold, the concentration and effort required resulted in sweat trickling down the inside of their uniforms. They peered into the gloom. After a few minutes of walking softly towards their target, their bodies aching from the intensity of the effort required to maintain that posture, they recognised a hut of sorts, built of interlaced stones with a basic thatched roof, no more than two metres wide.

“What was that?” hissed Muller.

“I don’t know,” responded Leeb. “It sounded like a tin rattling.”

“There it is again,” informed Muller.

White ghosts leapt out in front of them. Black faces and hooves hidden in the darkness, their shaggy white bodies floating passed them like demented spirits, bells clanging from around some of their necks, wavering cries like deranged souls as they fled into the distance. Something brown shot passed Kempf, horns prominent.

“Hell,” hissed Kempf, “it’s a bloody goat.”

The noise continued unabated as a flock thirty or forty panicking sheep and goats sped past them, bleating fast and furious, bells ringing as they raced down the gully passed the hut.

“Damn. Everyone quiet,” called Leeb.

The men hugged the now cold ground, steadying their breathing, listening, watching.

The animals continued to scatter down the draw, the clappers banging out an irregular tune as they went. Leeb focused on the hut ahead of them as a figure emerged, scanning the darkness about him, club held out in front of him. He moved a few feet away from the hut and looked about him listening to the sound of the fleeing animals. The figure walked a full three hundred and sixty degree circuit of the hut, then back to where he started before heading up the gully towards where the Fallschirmjager were hidden.

He was within two metres of Leeb when he stopped, sniffing the air, the club swinging at his side. Leeb froze, his face close to the dusty earth, keeping his breathing slow and shallow, the sound seeming to reverberate in his ears, the sweat cooling and chilling his now still body. The man had no shape, his ragged clothes just draped over his form, the stench of the goat herder, putrid and foul pervaded the air.

After a few moments the herder seemed to relax. His arm holding the club drop loosely to his side and he shuffled back to his hut, hitched up his outer clothes, pulled down his greyish pants and urinated against the wall of the hut, constantly looking about him and back over his shoulder. The occasional muffled explosion, or distant crack of a rifle shot drawing his attention to the coast. He shook himself, re-adjusted his clothing, sniffed the air again and went back inside.

Leeb waited ten minutes before he gave the order to move and led his men quickly back up the gully, checking in with the LP, briefing his commander and settling down, along with his men, for couple of hours sleep.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Although still dark, the sentry could make out one of his comrades cat walking down towards him, placing his hands and knees carefully on the ground so as not to be heard. As he got closer he rose up into a crouch and moved the last five metres until he was next to his fellow trooper.

“There’s movement above us, off to the left,” he hissed.

“Scheisse. I’ll let the Leutnant know. Stay here, don’t re-join your LP in case you’re heard.”

The sentry went swiftly, but quietly, to rouse his platoon commander. Placing his hand gently over Leutnant Nadel’s mouth he shook the sleeping form, instantly reassuring him that he was a friendly before Nadel’s pistol, close at hand, could be fired.

Nadel was awake in a trice, snatched the sentries hand from his mouth and whispered, “What is it?”

“The LP has just reported in sir, there is movement along the goat track.”

Nadel shot up, his mind now fully alert.

“Wake the Company Commander then the platoon commanders.” He gripped the sentry’s arm. “Quietly though, make sure everyone is quiet.”

“Sir.”

The trooper left to carry out his orders, but as hard as he tried the ground underfoot crunched as he passed over it. He prayed that the sound wouldn’t travel beyond the confines of the gully.