Opening Moves (The Red Gambit Series) (35 page)

The group hid up and surveyed the scene. Apparently the village was called Gopfritz an der Wild but no one, not even the Austrians, was any the wiser for knowing that. As they examined the lie of the land the sounds of an approaching express reached their ears and before they knew it a sixteen car military freight train hammered straight through and off into the dark, bound west for places unknown.

A swift appraisal of the area indicated that a small train of one engine, eight freight cars and a passenger coach was on a siding ready to roll eastwards, with another of fourteen freight cars and a very obvious ex-German quadruple anti-aircraft gun carriage on another sandbagged wagon on the other side of the triple tracks, pointing to the west. The flak gun coach was worrying close to their position, although there was no sign of any crew.

What was of considerable interest was the fact that the former train’s engine was busy puffing away. The priority was still to put as much distance between them and the camp, so very quickly it was decided to go for the smaller train heading east. This suddenly became imperative as Rolf observed figures around the engine climb aboard and the train started to slowly puff its way forward to the points.

‘Schiesse, no time for stealth Kameraden! Go hell for leather for that train. Move!”

Frantically the group leapt the stonewall and charged headlong towards the rearmost freight car. Its doors were only partially open. Swiftly realising the error, Rolf adjusted to the second car as its doors were gaping invitingly.

Fortunately, the train slowed slightly before reaching the points, as they needed to be manually switched. Unfortunately, they were operated by a beast of a man wearing Soviet uniform and sporting a PPSH sub-machine gun.

The lithe and wiry Shandruk was first up and into the second truck, immediately offering his hand to others. Man after man piled in but the train started to gain momentum as it moved onto the main track and drew the desperate group ever closer to the Russian guard. One man even managed to get through the slightly open door of the rearmost truck but it was quickly obvious that some would not get aboard in time and they selflessly scattered away from the track before they could be spotted.

One of the Austrians had just failed to gain the truck and fell badly, twisting his ankle. A comrade stopped to help and together they struggled towards the temporary safety of a small platelayers hut adjacent to the main line on the westbound side.

Unfortunately for them, the last truck just cleared away from the Russian giant as a lightning bolt illuminated the area and he was immediately aware of two men moving through the rail yard. Shouting a challenge at the top of his voice, only the two fugitives he concentrated on heard him, but the burst from the submachine gun drew more attention.

The young gunner supposedly standing guard on the anti-aircraft truck emerged from beneath his tarpaulin and saw at least eight men milling around the yard. The SVT40 automatic rifle by his side was quickly brought up, aimed and ten shots rapidly fired off.

The first shot struck a mark and the Austrian fell dead as the round took him full in the neck, wrecking both his windpipe and jugular vein in a fraction of a second.

Rounds two to seven went wild, although round five did take out one of the yard lights.

By the time the eighth bullet left the barrel the young gunner was bringing the weapon back down and under control, that round removing the left knee of an SS Untersturmfuhrer of Kavellerie running beyond the struggling pair.

Round nine hit the track and ricocheted into the already dead Austrian.

Round ten took the would-be rescuer in the left thigh, dropping him to the rain-soaked ground. As he sat there looking at his pumping wound he fatalistically understood that his destroyed femoral artery meant he would be dead long before anyone could even think about a tourniquet. And so he was, lying back onto the ground as blood loss overtook him and death came to him in seconds. By now the yard was mayhem, and the other prisoners sought any cover possible as more Russians arrived from their shelters to add to the force trying to find them.

Other escaped prisoners had also made it northwards to the yard and they too added to the confusion.

Despite the stormy conditions, they were all swiftly hunted down, with only the wounded Untersturmfuhrer left alive to tell the tale.

In the morning, the guard commander would display the sixteen corpses and hand over the wounded prisoner to the NKVD officer who led the arriving guard detachment. He was given assurances that no German had escaped and that the only ones who had entered the yard lay before him. In a wish to escape blame and to make themselves look good, the guards immediately took the heat off Rolf and his comrades. In a time when acts of bravery went unrewarded and he knew his comrades would never know of it, the painfully wounded Untersturmfuhrer did not disclose the escape of some ten of his fellows, even when his other knee was rearranged by a heavy Nagant bullet at close range, followed by his elbows and his genitals. Mercifully, he was unconscious when the officer was finally satisfied and the fifth bullet took his life.

The vodka he once carried had been consumed instantly by his captors.

It is better to do one’s own duty, however defective it may be, than to follow the duty of another, however well one may perform it. He who does his duty as his own nature reveals it, never sins.

The Bhagavad Gita

0002 hrs Saturday, 4th August 1945, On eastbound train, Soviet Occupied Lower Austria.

Even as the escapees were being hunted down all over the yard, the little train and its exhausted cargo slowly chugged its way eastwards and away from the immediate danger of detection. Rolf and Braun exchanged looks and the blowing out of the latter’s cheeks indicated how close he felt it had been for all of them. Rolf took a moment and looked around his exhausted comrades.

“Is everyone ok here?”

The hope in his voice very evident. Quickly it was established that no one in the wagon was hurt.

Rolf took further stock of their possessions and discovered they had lost one of the bread bags as well as the canteen of vodka. A setback for sure.

“Relax for a while Kameraden. I must think this through. Braun, Moeller, keep watch.”

The two selected men took one side each and those who wanted a cigarette took advantage of the journey to enjoy a smoke. The truck was soon filled with tobacco smoke and lightly snoring men. The hypnotic sound effects of the rain and rail track produced a general feeling of well-being in all of them and it was almost relaxing, except for the small points that it was the dead of night, stormy and they were being hunted.

As the minutes ticked by, those in the wagon started to become aware of the presence of particular odours, odours which most identified with death, namely faeces and blood. As they looked around the wagon, the dark was occasionally banished by a lightning bolt or a passing station, not much, but sufficiently for all to be aware that this wagon had been used to transport the dead, and that each bore on his hands and uniform, tokens of the former unfortunate occupants of the wagon.

Just over forty minutes after leaving Gopfritz, the train slowed down and crawled into a small town, some twenty or so miles down the track eastwards from the drama in the rail yard. Pulling off to the left, the train drew to a halt on a short spur three hundred metres short of the station platform, which platform was dotted with Soviet military personnel. The fact that they were there and not hiding from the wind and rain caused some initial alarm but there appeared to be no interest in their little train.

As if thrown by a single switch, every light in the vicinity was extinguished, the sole illumination being the occasional but now distant flash of lightning. Every prisoner was wide-awake and the tension in the wagon rapidly approached unbearable. It was impossible to tell if there were soldiers moving towards them but Rolf decided they should stay put. His mind immediately started to wander to the possibilities that lay open to the group if they were discovered.

Moeller the Austrian suddenly became animated and pulled one of the others over to keep his lookout and then quietly approached Uhlmann with some news.

“Sturmbannfuhrer, I am familiar with this town, or at least I know a little of the railway here.”

That obviously got Rolf’s full attention and he was suddenly more focussed.

“This is Sigmundsherberg. The other side of the Bahnhof there is a junction which splits in three directions.”

“Don’t tell me Moeller. Berlin, Munich and Hamburg by any chance?” Said loud enough to draw smiles from all in the wagon, his weak attempt cut through some of the tension that was peaking as all waited to hear Moeller’s words.

“Simply put, Herr Sturmbannfuhrer, left or straight ahead we are in trouble, right we can cope with. From memory, left goes to Wien and all places east. Straight ahead can also get you to Wien amongst other places, but also can take you south through the passes and into Italy. Right…” the voice suddenly almost soft with emotion, “Right can take us to München or on to Salzburg.”

Rolf rubbed his chin slowly and nodded gently at the man in front of him.

Placing his hand on his shoulder, he chose his words carefully.

“Then we must trust in our luck that we go right, for all of us need to go home Alois. Salzburg is home for you yes?”

“Yes….it has been so very long since…” Moeller’s voice trailed off as his mind wandered to happier times.

Rolf clapped his hand on his shoulder and grinned.

“Then we will go to Salzburg and have done with it.”

Moeller, out of his short reverie, grinned and nodded.

“Zu befehl Herr Sturmbannfuhrer,” and moved back.

Moeller resumed his guard and was the first one to warn of an approaching train. The escapees kept their eyes firmly on the surrounding area but saw no one looking remotely interested in their little world. Rolf estimated the time at about 1am and it seemed reasonable to expect about four more hours of darkness before the dawn broke upon them in its full splendour. He calculated that it was still safer to stay put than to move off.

A whispered warning prevented everyone from jumping as the door was gently slid back and Krantzschen, the man who had made it into the rear wagon, joined the group. He brought Rolf’s attention to the fact that two other trains were pulled over, almost as if waiting for something more important to pass by.

Which they were of course, and that fact came home to all the watchers as the train Moeller had heard approaching slowly steamed past from the direction they had come and took the right hand track, which they hoped was heading towards Salzburg. Rolf was about to state that this was a good sign as it was likely they had been pulled over to let this one past.

He never made that comment.

What was carried on that train gave the watchers a moment’s pause. All of them had sufficient time on the Russian front to recognise the shape of Russian T34’s, even when buried under canvas tarpaulins on a dark night. Moreover, a train with twenty-one aboard was not moving about without reason. Twenty-one tanks represented a full Soviet tank battalion and moving a force like that was not done for the hell of it. It had purpose. Hardly had Rolf started to digest what he had seen than another train followed the same route. The unmistakeable shapes of twenty-one more T34’s slid by, immediately followed by yet another trainload, but this time carrying twenty-one IS-II types, a Soviet heavy tank with a beast of a 122mm main gun.

Three trains in five minutes apart became six, then eight and finally the incredulous Germans spent nearly an hour witnessing seventeen trainloads of Russian materiel, from tanks through artillery onto troop transport, heading south-west down the track. One Katyusha had been wholly visible, as its protective tarpaulin had been carried away into the night.

By the time the last train had passed, the waiting group of locomotives started to show more signs of life, and the nearest one to the junction slowly pulled forward with its load. Its progress was watched intently so the Germans could gauge what was likely to happen when it became their turn. The large number of uniforms around the Bahnhof and surrounding area started to dwindle and none of them seemed remotely interested in the train now moving through the junction.