Opening Moves (The Red Gambit Series) (12 page)

0917 hrs Sunday, 1st July 1945, Winzenheim Camp [Rheinwiesenlager], Occupied Germany.

SS-Standartenfuhrer Ernst-August Knocke cast a spell wherever he went, be it on his own comrades or on those detailed to guard the prison camp full mainly with members of the SS, combat soldiers incarcerated alongside those who did spent their war at a desk or in a concentration camp.

What immediately set him aside from every other German there was the fact that he strode the camp in full black panzer uniform, complete with those tangible marks of years of bloody intense combat, from his Great War Iron Cross First class, awarded for his heroic defence of a trench position, through to the Knights Cross with Oak leaves and Crossed Swords at his throat, the last personally presented by Adolf Hitler. Underneath the Knights Cross was the “Pour le Merite” or Blue Max, also of Great War fame, which the young acting Oberleutnant Knocke had won two days before hostilities ceased and which had not been confirmed until 1929. These awards and insignia had not been looted and he was held in the very highest esteem by those who imprisoned him there, particularly the camp commandant. The French Colonel had once served with the Vichy Forces but had been forgiven sufficiently to be placed in charge of the abhorrence that was Winzenheim camp.

Knocke was the third ranked officer presently in the camp but the other two above him were held in virtual contempt by the combat troops, who all deferred to his judgement on matters. Because of the respect they held him in, they continued to march and drill on his orders, and the exercise sessions were rigorous and long. Thanks to his efforts his combat troopers kept fit and healthy, where others less prepared succumbed to disease and the melancholy of the unoccupied mind. All in all, there were one thousand and thirty-eight members of the SS in the camp, of which over half had once been SS combat troops. Add in two hundred and onee members of the Wehrmacht and Luftwaffe, and the camp fit for habitation by five hundred and forty souls was crammed with one thousand two hundred and thirty-nine prisoners.

In a nutshell, Knocke was a legend on both sides of no man’s land. An energetic forty-seven year old who had seen time in the trenches of the Great War, he departed from the beaten German army at the end of hostilities, surviving the great German depression with work as a night watchman and baker. The full recognition of his Great War service came in 1929, when the Pour-le-Merite was belatedly presented to him and with it came an opportunity to join the Wehrmacht; to be once more a professional soldier.

He joined the rising National Socialist party in 1934.

In February 1941, he transferred from the Wehrmacht into the Waffen-SS and from that time he never looked back. He had served with a number of Germany’s elite SS divisions, rising from Untersturmfuhrer with the Leibstandarte-SS, through to Standartenfuhrer in SS-Das Reich, with command appointments in every SS Panzer Division but SS-Frundsberg and SS-Hitler Jugend.

Panzers were his main tool, and he was a master craftsman. Employing his metal leviathans correctly at all times, he successfully completed mission after mission, butchering the massed Soviet ranks with precision and sweeping the field with his meticulous manouevrings and instinctive judgement.

Wherever he had gone, he took victory with him, even if his contribution could not stem the tide elsewhere.

His final command had been immolated outside Vienna, but not before successfully counter-attacking once more and inflicting huge losses on the Soviet army.

The division had then virtually ceased to exist and Knocke had tried to proceed back to Berlin on orders from someone who clearly did not understand the transport situation.

He had fallen into the hands of the French Army two days later.

The young North African soldiers who captured him had obviously been in awe. They did not even remove his handgun, which fact caused some consternation with the French regular army major who was confronted by a loaded Walther P38 when Knocke handed it over before his interrogation. In truth, he might still even have it on his person now if he had not taken it from its holster himself and placed it on the table. Money could not have bought the look on that officer’s face and Knocke delighted in telling the story often.

In his mind, Knocke appreciated that Germany would still need soldiers, and so he trained his men in the arts of war as he knew them. From veteran to new trooper, he set in place a continuing tactical training programme, often using stones or pieces of wood to represent tank tactics and formation manouevre on the floor of the barracks. He reasoned that even the French might object if he did so openly in front of the guards.

Because of his teachings, many a young man in his captive audience acquired knowledge that would stand him in good stead should there be further bloodshed in Europe.

Unfortunately, Knocke could not continue as he would have wished today, for he had been requested to attend the administrative block for clarifications. That was code for interrogation about wartime career’s, and most importantly, where he had been and whom he had killed.

Well, that was the day gone then, Knocke mused, for he had been many places and killed many enemies.

Human beings, by changing the inner attitudes of their minds, can change the outer aspects of their lives

William James

0925 hrs Sunday, 1st July 1945, Winzenheim Camp [Rheinwiesenlager], Occupied Germany.

Lavalle had seen a lot of German officers by now and felt that nothing was going to surprise him anymore. From the ‘seig-heiling’ stiff-backed fanatics through to those who awful experiences had cowed; they had all been across his desk and received his personal interrogation and decision.

His task was simple.

Regardless of the previous years of war and what had been done that was regrettable, find men who would wear the uniform of his beloved legion and who were prepared to honour the legion code, men who could bring soldierly qualities to the struggle against the communists What his country needed now were soldiers of quality and no one could refute the fact that the Germans had them in large numbers, many of them languishing in prisoner of war camps the length and breadth of Europe.

Rumour had it that there were over five million Germans presently in captivity, less the sixty-three men Lavalle had thus far found to ply their profession further afield in the jungles of Indo-China. Most of those were either on their way to or had arrived at the Sidi-bel-Abbes headquarters of the Legion.

That the struggle for which Lavalle was recruiting was exclusively against the communist meant that he had only had three suitable candidates turn away from the offer he put on the table, for one thing each and every German understood was the communist threat.

So here he was in Winzenheim, one of the Rheinwiesenlager, the set of camps hugging the Rhine that were rapidly acquiring a reputation as hellholes for their occupants.

The large room set aside for his ‘interrogations’ was classically devoid of any charm. Concrete walls, white-washed and bare, save for an electric fan high in one corner soundlessly agitating the air. Windowless and poorly lit, the only furniture being the two chairs and a battered but serviceable table placed centrally, topped off with an electric lamp and an ashtray.

He sat down at the table and reached for the file on top of the pile. This file had drawn his attention the moment it arrived in his office, for it was one of very few which were red, and one of only six he had seen that had a blue ribbon around it. That made the person described therein very special indeed. This man was also the reason Lavalle was conducting his business on a Sunday, when the rest of the section was off enjoying the high-life in Karlsruhe. The name on the file had been known to Lavalle long before his involvement with the clandestine operation that brought the document into his possession.

He had read it previously of course, three times in fact, and fascinating reading it was too, now supplemented by additional witness statements from German prisoners and newly arrived Soviet Intel files adding to what the allied intelligence services had scrounged up during six years of war. The man described in these pages was a real legend, both in his own army and in that of his enemies, and that was a rarity. Rommel had achieved it of course, but this man had fought his war exclusively in Europe, and most of it in the bloodbath that was the Eastern Front.

The door opened and the guard gestured the arriving prisoner inside.

Lavalle looked up and his immediate reaction was to stand and salute, a reaction he only just managed to suppress in time, although the man who stood opposite him saw the faint twitch of movement.

The German in front of Lavalle was the most impressive soldier he had ever seen, the more so as he was stood at the attention in immaculate full uniform, his medals shining and resplendent, eyes calm and firm.

He invited Knocke to sit, which Ernst did with a lithe and graceful movement.

The lack of any formal introduction from his interrogator was not lost on Knocke.

Lavalle opened the folder and, in perfect German, read aloud through the family details, list of unit assignments and general service record, pausing only to confirm a date here, an award there.

“Well you seem to have been very thorough,” ceded Knocke after ten minutes of solid listening.

“You even have my two weeks at Zossen recorded, which was extremely secret and not even my divisional commander knew I had been there. Also I congratulate you on your mastery of my language”.

“Thank you Herr Knocke. I am from Alsace of course. Now, let me be frank and get to the point. My main purpose is normally to interview members of the defeated German army with a view to recruiting them into the Foreign Legion and sending them to fight for France in Indo-China. You are not seen in that role, partially because of your age but partially because of your speciality being with tanks.”

“War is a young man’s business for sure Colonel, and panzers are not a jungle weapon,” and delivered with a quizzical inflection, "So why am I here?”

“That is a good question.”

Lavalle brought out his Gauloise cigarettes and offered one up. Ernst did not comment on the fingers missing from the hand holding the packet. Veterans did not do such things. When both men were enjoying their first puffs, he continued.

“I am here because it would seem that you fought a fair and chivalrous war and are not tarnished with excesses such as are some of your countrymen. Neither are you in anyway directly involved with the extermination camps.”

Lavalle straightened a little. “Had you been so involved then we would be having a very different conversation right now. Instead, I am here to make you an offer. Many of your comrades find the lure of fighting communists too much to resist, some wish to hide in the legion to evade responsibility for what they have done and others sign up simply because they have nothing better to do. I do not see you agreeing to serve France in any capacity for any of those reasons Herr Knocke. Not even ego I suspect”, which was said in such a way as a listener might think it was also a question.

Knocke shifted slightly and delivered a gentle riposte in a tone that made Lavalle understand the force and personality of the man opposite him.

“I can assure you that the Russian front afforded no room for ego, Herr Oberst.”

“Permit me to rephrase that,” Lavalle countered softly after a respectable pause.

“You have skills, skills which my country and others might need to draw upon. Sat opposite us are millions of Russians and already there are problems brewing. Across the world communism is taking further root. Who knows where the next Hitler or Mussolini will rise?”

“Or Stalin?”

“Or Stalin Herr Knocke, indeed, or Stalin.”

Lavalle offered his cigarettes again and when both men had eagerly drawn the rich smoke into their lungs he continued.

“This war is over and you will not take to a uniform again to oppose the enemies of your country, or mine for that matter. You will not bear arms again I am sure, but you have priceless knowledge and skills. I do not understand precisely where you would fit in within the greater scheme of things but I do know that you will not be allowed to fade away and that you will be asked to bring your skills to serve again.”