Casca 4: Panzer Soldier (9 page)

Sleep, the great healer, was their best ally, and they used him as much as they could, letting the darkness take them for hours at a time. They woke only to repair an item of their gear, or to eat a piece of bread. They filled their canteens with snow from outside and waited for it to melt, then drank and slept some more. They only left their cave to take a leak or crap and scurried back to their burrow cursing. The storm passed, leaving a startling clearness. The new snow sparkled with millions of flashing diamonds, each one a pinprick to the light-sensitive eyes of the cave dwellers. A brilliant crystal cold day, the air bit at their lungs and skin.

At the
Ingul they crossed over what in the spring would be swift flow, now frozen solid to a depth of five feet. An eighty-ton tank could rumble over it with no fear of crashing through.

They decided not to try and break through the Russian lines to their own forces at
Novy Bug. With the food they had picked up at the hut they had a better chance of making it on to their original destination at Yuzhney Bug. Twelve days of crisp clear weather and they reached the first German outposts. Staggering in they almost had their asses shot off by the machine-gun crew sitting behind an MG-42. Only Gus's string of curses which could have been heard clear to Berlin stopped the gun crew from ripping them to pieces.

Ragged, bearded, filthy caricatures of soldiers, they were hustled to the rear in an amphibious Volkswagen. They were shown into the presence of an immaculate colonel of
Jagers, a man who obviously considered those beneath him fit only to do his bidding.

Langer read the martinet correctly and reported in the best military manner. "Sir,
Stabsfeldwebel
Carl Langer begs to report that he has reported back to German forces with three other ranks following the destruction of our tank in the battle around Nikopol three weeks ago."

Colonel von
Mancken rose from behind his field desk and stepped in front of Langer, looking the man up and down in distaste. Wrinkling his nose at the odor of this disgrace to the glory of German arms, he said, "You mean you came all the way from Nikopol? I do hope you have a proper explanation or I assure you that you and those with you will most certainly face a court martial for desertion." He called for his regimental sergeant major, a huge Bavarian with a barrel chest. He had the look of a man who enjoys the power he has over others.

"
Stabswachtmeister
Schmitt, have these men issued new uniforms and cleaned up. You will report of their activities since they left their unit at Nikopol. You will report back to me at fifteen hundred hours with the report and these men."

Schmitt clicked his heels together. "
Zum Befehl, Herr Oberst
." Turning his attention to Langer he barked out as if he were on a drill field, "
Achtung
, about face, quick march.
Eins, zwei, drei, vier
," He literally tried to goose-step Langer out of the door.

Once out into the open, leaving the colonel to his delusions of grandeur in his log and sandbag HQ, he halted Langer. "Okay, knock off the tin soldier shit. You're in a lot of trouble. That prissy bastard in there will have you before a firing squad in the morning unless you have some help. Do you have anything to trade for the services I might be able to render you in the name of German
soldierity? Gold, silver, jewels, opium. I'm not hard to get along with; almost anything will do that I can resell."

Teacher and the others joined Langer, who had had just about enough. He looked the sergeant major over carefully. The lack of combat badges or ribbons was obvious. This was one of those bullies who had spent the last four years in some training regiment, impressing recruits and being careful to make themselves indispensable to their commanders in order to avoid going to the front. But time had caught up with this one and he was on the front, now. It was high time he learned a reality.

Gus moved up closer to Schmitt; Yuri began to give his butcher knife a finer edge, stropping it on his boot tops, while squinting and looking up at Schmitt, grinning. His gold tooth gleamed in a dark, wizened face. Teacher merely smiled and began fondling his submachine gun. Schmitt hesitated. What was this? Why weren't they afraid of him? He was a sergeant major and outranked them. Everyone had always been afraid of him back in Germany.

Langer moved up closer to Schmitt, his face only inches away from the
other's. "Listen to me. I have seen your type for years and you're a gutless piece of suet. You can get away with that bullshit back in Germany, but here on the front it's a little bit different. You mess with us and I'll twist your head off your shoulders. Do you know what it means to die? For your sake I hope so. Now get away from me and go scare some children."

The first real fear he had ever known struck him. Schmitt took a step back in shock. He had been on the front only two weeks, and there had not even been a shot fired other than an occasional sniper and that was on the lines; a place he carefully avoided. He cursed himself. His mistake was making himself too indispensable to Col. von
Mancken. When the colonel received orders to the front he just had to take his faithful sergeant major with him. The pompous bastard! Blustering, he tried to fake it. "You watch your step. I'm the boss here and you heard what the colonel said. The showers are over behind supply. Get cleaned up and write out your report. I'll see you later."

Langer snorted and turned his back on him. Yuri rose from his squatting position and passed in front of Schmitt. Smiling and bobbing his head, he took out a small bulging cloth bag. He grinned as he pressed it into Schmitt's hands.
"For Germanski, presento." Gold tooth gleaming he followed after the others.

Schmitt, who was used to his
lessers presenting him with tokens of their esteem, mumbled to himself that the savage had more sense and manners than the others. At least he recognized his betters. "Wonder what it is?" Pulling the drawstring open, he shook the contents out into his hand and froze; his gut squirmed and he let the contents fall to lie on the snow. Ears! Human ears! A dozen or more, all from the right side. Sweat broke out on his forehead in spite of the cold. He backed away and almost ran back into the security of headquarters.

The showers were a canvas field tent with empty petrol drums set up outside filled with water. It had a stovepipe affair running from an old wood-burning stove, up through the
center of the drums to heat the water. Crude, but right now it was the most luxurious innovation they had ever experienced. All except Yuri, who distrusted water in any form other than drinking, but he gave in to the demands of the others that shed his lice-infested rags and joined in.

Gus, removing his boots, let out a yelp of pure joy. "Here, fellows, look what I got." He had to peel his socks off and there exposed to daylight for the first time in days were two blackened toes on his left foot, the two small ones, black and dead; frostbite. "I got my bleeding ticket out of here, ain't they beautiful?"

Gus refused to go to the dispensary until after he washed. "There's no rush, they ain't goin' no place, for a while, that is." A supply clerk came over with clean uniforms for them after they had been deloused. The only one who wasn't infested was Langer. For some reason the little bastards didn't like the taste of him, but the others had to submit to a complete spraying and laughed as their clothes were tossed into the wood stove. They enjoyed each hissing pop that said another Russian louse was cremated. Of those they had inspected only a few had the little gray cross on them that said they were the carriers of typhus. In the early days of the war you could get a couple of marks apiece for each of them you turned in to the medics for shipment back to Germany, where they were analyzed and tested. By now there were probably more of them in the Fatherland than in Russia.

Gus joyfully presented himself to regimental hospital. An hour later the doctor took a pair of pliers and simply pulled the two blackened toes off without the benefit of any
anesthetic. Taking a pair of surgical scissors he trimmed up the edges, rinsed off the foot with a little raw alcohol, sprinkled it with sulfa powder and cursed him all the time for being a slackard and a defeatist. That there was no good reason for anyone to get frostbite if they only took proper care of themselves. It was treason not to take proper maintenance of an item that was the property of the state, even a piece of obviously defective equipment as the traitorous
Stabsgefreiter
clearly was. Gus asked the doctor how he'd like to have his ass stuck in a snow bank for three weeks and then see how much would be left after the
Stabsgefreiter
, by the grace of our Holy German or Austrian Fuhrer, took a pair of his pliers to it.

After Gus proceeded to describe what he could do with his pliers to other portions of the doctor's anatomy, he was hurriedly moved out to a hospital ward. The doctor made a note to have the man's mental condition tested. He was most certainly, at the least, a
nonsocial and emotionally disturbed person who shouldn't be permitted to run around loose without professional supervision. At fifteen hundred hours Langer, Teacher and Yuri presented themselves to the sergeant major at regimental HQ. The clean uniforms and showers gave them a semblance of military appearance. The Knight's Cross around Langer's neck did more than anything else to give Schmitt a case of the jitters. You didn't get one of those for kissing babies. Taking their paybooks and papers, Schmitt knocked on the colonel's door and received permission to enter.

Returning, he told them to stand easy and wait. It would be a while; the colonel was busy. Ten minutes later a
Blitzmädel
left the colonel's office, looking pleased with herself. She took a look at the Knight's Cross holder and the man's rugged face and smiled, wet her lips, patted back her light brown hair done in an efficient bun, and exited after one more smile.

Schmitt knocked on the door and received permission to send Langer and the others in.

When they presented themselves, Yuri stayed slightly to the rear. He had never liked officers of any kind. Russian or German made no difference, they only meant one thing to him: trouble.

Colonel von
Mancken peered at Langer and then Teacher. Pointing a manicured finger at Yuri, he inquired, "What, may I ask, is that?"

"A volunteer, sir, one who has fought well for us," he added. Von
Mancken raised an eyebrow. "I did not ask for a list of his merits, Sergeant. I asked what is he?"

"A Tatar, Sir."

Von Mancken viewed the Asiatic with distaste, shaking his head. "What is the Reich coming to when it uses the likes of a patently subhuman type to fight battles that should be, won by the glorious feats of arms of Germany's Aryan youth? Indeed a sad state of affairs." He dismissed the Tatar from his mind as he would have a dog or any beast.

"Sergeant Langer, I have made some inquiries." He held Langer's and the others'
paybooks and papers in front of him. A trace of envy touched him when he eyed the Knight's Cross and he promised himself to get one before much longer, and one with the oak leaves to it. It would certainly add greatly to his career.

"I have communicated with the commander of your former division and he referred me to the headquarters of Field Marshal von
Manstein, who it appears awarded your decoration. It is his desire that you and your companions be given transport to a rest area. That includes your savage also."

The colonel omitted the fact that he had been informed by the field marshal's aide de camp that the Herr Field Marshal did not like for anyone to cast doubts on the
valor of anyone he had personally decorated, especially when such a person had been not in combat himself. It would most certainly not be pleasing to the Herr Field Marshal and could have unhappy results for anyone so shortsighted as to commit such an offense. Did the Herr Colonel understand? Or was he addressing a major? Ranks changed so rapidly at the front it was often quite difficult to keep track of all the demotions, they happened so rapidly.

Von
Mancken returned his attention to the men in front of him. He was careful to keep control; one must not give vent to displays of emotion in front of the enlisted men. "It will take a few days for orders to be prepared. Until that time you will have no duties here; just don't start any trouble. Schmitt will see to your quarter assignments. You're dismissed."

Langer and Teacher clicked heels, saluted and left followed by a scowling Yuri. The Tatar could smell the envy and hate in the colonel. Well, maybe he would have to start a new collection of ears.

For Langer and his men, the next days were ones like they had not known for years. All the food they could eat and more. Gus ate like a barbarian king. His threats against the medical orderlies' private parts kept them in a state of constant fear and attendance. He gorged on sausage and cabbage, swilling it down with huge amounts of whatever was to be had, from Czech beer to medical alcohol cut with water and flavored with just a touch of iodine. He swore it tasted exactly like good Scotch whiskey.

Every time Yuri saw
Stabswachtmeister
Schmitt he would just smile and tug at his ear lobe. Schmitt kept as much space between himself and the little brown man from the steppes as possible. .

The New Year was celebrated by a small party. The
Blitzmädel
decided to try the scar-faced tanker on for size. When they left the privacy of the storeroom they had used for their meeting, she could barely walk. Never had she experienced anything like that night. The Panzerman had put her through movements that she had only seen in school when they had studied the art of India. And she had snuck a forbidden look at a copy of the Kama Sutra one of her classmates had ordered from a pornography house in Bremen. The sergeant could have, in her opinion, written the damned thing.