Devils with Wings: Silk Drop (3 page)

Out of the corner of his eye Paul caught sight of Max’s smile. Paul’s immediate thought was, ‘what has that rogue been up to now’. He depended heavily on his company sergeant, on Max, who in Poland, had saved his life and looked after him when he had been injured in Belgium.

“Once we get to Hildesheim,” he continued his briefing, “I want a full kit inspection, everything, understood?” Leutnant’s Nadel and Roth both nodded and responded.

“Jawohl, Herr Oberleutnant.”

But Leutnant Krause unintentionally groaned. Suddenly realising what he had just done, he snapped to attention, ensuring his company commander that he understood. Paul looked at him for a few moments, making the officer uncomfortable and fidgety.

Paul was worried about Krause and had asked Max to keep a subtle eye on him, although he suspected that Max was already doing that. Leutnant Nadel, tall, with a pinched, pale face, on the other hand was a strong solid leader. Thought through his actions, explained them to his men, elucidating what he expected of them, rather than forcing his orders through. Leutnant Roth, was completely the opposite. The short, cherubic faced officer, his blonde wiry hair, was impulsive and quick to make decisions. Not a bad thing, but he did need to be reigned in at times, preventing him from making rash decisions.

“Make sure Unterfeldwebel Eichel does the checks with you Leutnant Krause, I don’t want any mistakes. Hauptman Volkman could call for a full battalion Inspection at any time,” Paul added. “Right, let’s go!” Paul indicated to Max that he was ready for the company to move out, rotating his right arm in the air.

“See you in Hildesheim sir,” said Max as he walked by. “Fun and games await us.”

Paul jumped up into the cab and Max continued to walk down the line of eight trucks, banging on the side of the cab doors, giving them a two minute warning. Paul looked in the truck’s wing mirror and seeing Max climb aboard the last vehicle instructed the driver to pull off. The driver crashed the gears in his hurry to get moving, taking a sideways glance at his passenger, waiting for a bollocking. But the Oberleutnant either hadn’t noticed, or had chosen not to.

Paul’s mind was elsewhere, staring out of the window, contemplating the approaching exercise, ticking off the list of things he needed to have done in preparation, necessary for its success. He felt satisfied that he and his company were ready, and any way, Max would have ensured that nothing would have been missed.

The convoy drove through the camp gates and he returned the guard’s salute. They were off and would be in Hildesheim camp before they knew it. This time the weather would be much improved. When he was last there it was extremely cold. Situated in the foothills of the Harz Mountains, the winter weather had been harsh.

They turned right out of the camp and right again onto the autobahn taking them west. Within minutes they were heading south on another autobahn, only possible as a result of The Fuhrer’s road building programme. The driver interrupted his thoughts. “There’s a flask of coffee over there sir, if you’d like a drink,” he said pointing to a flask in a bin to the right of the gear stick. “I’m afraid there’s milk and sugar already in it.”

“I don’t mind if I do,” responded Paul, glad of the distraction from his racing thoughts. “Milk and sugar is fine.” He poured himself and the driver a hot drink, placing the driver’s in a holder, obviously home made, on the dashboard.

The driver was older than most Luftwaffe soldiers, probably in his early forties. He thanked Paul and they continued the journey in silence.

They skirted round the west of the city, Paul looking out of the window as he sipped his hot coffee, watching the built up area slowly diminish as they entered deeper into the rural part of their journey.

Travelling north of Wolfenbuttel and south of Salzgitter, the autobahn was bracketed by farms and cultivated fields, the last ten kilometres taking them through the rich green forest of Schellerton. The journey lasted exactly one hour and forty minutes and once they had passed the camp guardroom and were inside the camp, they were allocated accommodation, the top floor of one of the large, three-storey barrack blocks. The camp was relatively large, with a canteen, small airfield and even a cinema. Primarily the home of the German Air Force and the Long Range Recce school, it was now the home of the Fallschirmjager. Once settled, they were given some lunch, much to the pleasure of Helmut. Afterwards they were given a final brief on the next day’s events by the battalion commander, and then left to their own devices. Some chose to take advantage of the film being shown in the Cinema, others flaked out on their bunks or joined a card school.

They were sat in the canteen, Paul, Helmut, Manfred and Meinhard, just chatting and relaxing before the next day’s activities. Max and his fellow sergeants were sat round another table putting the world to rights. The ground floor of the two-storey building served as the eating area while the adjoining single level building, the clash of pans and shouted orders emanated from its interior, was the cookhouse.

“It’s going to be a bloody long forty eight hours,” grumbled Helmut

“Have you got a parachute for your donkey?” questioned Paul.

“What bloody donkey, what are you on about?” answered a bewildered Helmut.

“To carry your food supplies of course,” replied Paul keeping a serious look on his face.

The other two burst into laughter. Helmut’s reputation, his constant desire for food was already legendary throughout the battalion. Even the Raven had been known to make a comment.

“Bugger off all of you.”

They continued to prattle about nothing for another hour before calling it a night. A rapport had formed between the four officers and they enjoyed each others company. Although Paul liked them all and was particularly close to Helmut, he missed his friend Erich. Helmut and Paul had gone to see Erich at the Regimental HQ the previous day to speak to him and catch up on events, but he had been away from the unit on some errand for the Regimental commander. He would see him again soon he hoped.

They pushed back their chairs, said their goodnights, checked with their sergeants that last minute preparations were complete and retired to their bunks. It was ten at night, on the twenty seventh July, 1940 they would be up at 3:30 the next day, parachuting onto the target at 5, twilight.

***

Paul’s company were making final preparations in the large aircraft hangar, put aside specifically for the forthcoming exercise, which was close to the apron, and a stones throw from the runway. It was four fifteen am.

After a quick meal, the paratroopers had assembled in the cavernous hangar, checking their equipment one last time before embarking on their transport waiting on the runway. The company was grouped by platoon, the Leutnant’s checking the readiness of their men, assisted by their platoon sergeants. The other three companies were also in the throes of preparations and the hangar was filled with an echoing drone of over four hundred men getting ready, the clinking of equipment and the low chatter of men preparing for battle, albeit a practice.

Paul walked over to second platoon to inspect their progress. Unterfeldwebel Fischer sprang to attention and saluted his company commander.

“All present and correct sir, we’ll be ready in ten,” he informed him. They were joined by Leutnant Nadel, who also saluted his senior officer.

“Unterfeldwebel Fischer informs me all is well Dietrich?”

“Yes sir, we’re at full strength and raring to go, just giving everything a final once over.”

“Good, carry on, and no more saluting, we’re on a combat footing remember.”

He approached the neighbouring platoon where he was joined by Max on route.

“Looking good so far Max.”

“Yes sir, they’re a good bunch.”

“How are Fischer and Kienitz settling in to their new roles?”

“Doing well, their platoon commanders seem to welcome their experience and enthusiasm, Eichel too. Although I suspect Eichel is taking on more than he should.”

Although all of the officers in the company were naturally senior to Max, as the company sergeant he reported directly to Paul. This gave him the right to raise potential issues regarding the company’s officers and men. Both Fischer and Kienitz had been Unteroffizier’s in Paul’s unit when he was a platoon commander during their tours in Poland and Belgium. Like Paul, Kienitz had been wounded during the attack on Eben Emael, a minor wound to his right leg. He was now fully recovered.

“We need to keep a close eye on first platoon during the exercise then.”

“Will do sir, but I have every faith in Eichel.”

“Let’s go and see how our Leutnant Krause is getting on then.”

They approached the platoon they’d been discussing to see Leutnant Krause adjusting his own equipment, while Eichel was inspecting the platoon.

“All ready Heinrich?”

“Yes sir,” he responded, fumbling a salute.

“No saluting Heinrich, remember? We’re assuming combat conditions.”

“Sorry sir.”

“Have you reviewed your platoon and are they all set?”

“Unterfeldwebel Eichel is doing that now sir.”

“But are they ready to your satisfaction Leutnant Krause?” demanded Paul, his usual patience being severely tested.

“I… I think so sir.”

“Well I suggest Leutnant Krause, you check them now, and report to me when you are satisfied they are ready for battle, do I make myself clear?” Krause quickly came to attention.

“Jawohl Herr Oberleutnant.”

“See that you do.”

With that Paul turned on his heel and left, Max following behind.

‘Let’s check the last platoon Max, before I get really angry. Well, what are your thoughts?”

“Eichel has it under control sir. I think he’s actually enjoying running the platoon.”

“But that’s not the point Max. It’s not his job.”

“I understand sir, I’ll keep my eyes peeled.”

“Good. Right, let’s go and see how Roth is doing.”

They approached the final platoon, in full swing, getting ready. They had a spot alongside one of the high walls of the hanger, their kit propped up against it.

“It looks like he’s trying to be first to finish as usual,” whispered Max.

“Well Viktor, your men seem to be ready?”

“Yes sir,” replied Leutnant Roth, standing proud

Unterfeldwebel Kienitz has them well organised, isn’t that so Unterfeld?”

“Ja, Herr Leutnant,” the twenty three year old NCO replied. “We’re ready, just showing the rest how it’s done,” he said grinning.

“How’s that leg of yours?” asked Paul

“Don’t even know it’s there sir.”

“Only a bloody scratch anyway,” interrupted Max. “Just a way to get sympathy from the girls, sir.”

“So your platoon is ready Viktor?”

“Yes sir.”

“So you wouldn’t mind if we do a check ourselves then?” tested Paul.

“Well, we plan on doing one last check, if you’ll excuse us sir.”

“You had best get on with it then, carry on.”

Paul and Max walked away, grinning at each other. They both suspected that in his haste to be the first platoon ready, he might well have missed something. Even the staunch Kienitz would have difficulty in restraining the impetuous officer.

Five minutes later, all three platoons indicated their readiness to move, just as the battalion commander joined them. He was accompanied by the three other company commanders, whose men were also in the hangar getting ready for their turn to load the aircraft.

“Oberleutnant Brand, you’re men ready?”

“Yes, Herr Hauptman.”

“Excellent, I want your men to move out in five minutes. The aircraft are warming up their engines now.”

It was short and sweet, the Raven was quickly on the move again, no doubt checking all aspects of the exercise, wanting nothing to go wrong. He was probably liaising regularly with the regimental commander, who would undoubtedly be watching the exercise closely.

Paul was a little surprised when he felt the thump on his back from the exuberant Helmut, and his good luck wishes.

“Well Paul, first on the ground then. Make sure you get everything set up for us, right?”

“Sure. We’ll suss out a bar and a cafe for you, ok?”

From his tunic he produced a cold bratwurst, wrapped in paper.

“Just in case you let me down, I’ve brought my own snack,” he said smiling broadly.

Feldwebel Jung interrupted. “Excuse me sir, the platoon commanders are ready for you.”

“I’ll be right with you Jung.”

The Feldwebel departed along with the other two Oberleutnant’s, who had also wished Paul and his men luck.

“Well, work calls, so I’d better get going. Give them hell out there,” he said clapping both Paul and Max on their shoulders.

“You too Max.”

“The best are leading the way sir,” responded Max.

“If I wasn’t commanding the best company in the battalion Feldwebel Grun, I might agree with you,” he said tapping Max’s massive shoulder with his gauntlet.

He left them to go and organise his own unit.