Panzer Soldier

caught his eye. The fact that she had been worked over was obvious from the swelling around her left eye and bruised mouth. Her escorts were members of a special counter-guerrilla detachment of the SS. Tough-looking men, still wearing the distinctive SS leopard camouflage field jackets and helmet covers. The leader of the group, a Hauptsturmfuhrer with a broken nose and crystal blue eyes, beckoned him over with a wave of the hand.

The SS captain beckoned Langer to him with a snap of the fingers. 'Papers!'

Carl presented his paybook and movement orders to the 'Golden Knight' of the new order, standing at attention. He glanced through the documents and quickly took in the decorations Langer had around his neck.

'Good enough, climb on, I have a job for you, it won't take long.'

Langer knew better than to try and argue. Tossing his pack on the Kubelwagen, he climbed into the rear of the vehicle with the woman and her guards; it was crowded but the best they could do.

The jeep ran down the road for a few kilometers and turned on to a side road; headed into the trees for a couple of hundred meters and stopped. The Hauptsturmfuhrer led the way up a narrow tree-lined trail to a log cabin. Standing back he let one of his men enter the door first; after all, one could never tell where one might find a booby trap, and enlisted men were expendable and easier to replace than officers. Once inside, one of the Sturmen built a fire in the rock fireplace, and stood by waiting for orders from his leader.

The captain pointed a gloved finger at Carl. 'Sergeant, you will remain here with the prisoner until we return. We have to pick up a few more of the lady's compatriots being held for us further on. If she tries to escape, stop her any way you wish, but don't trust the treacherous bitch, she killed two of my men earlier today and we only caught her when a rifle grenade knocked her out and those that were with her left her behind. And besides,' he said in a comradely fashion, 'she's a Jew.'

With a snap of his fingers, his men headed for the door. He seemed to have finger snapping down to a science; it wasn't easy to do with gloves on. Before leaving, he turned once more to Langer and in an off-handed way added, 'Oh, by the way, if you like, you may use her for your amusement. After we return and have time to question her, we're going to hang her anyway, so enjoy yourself, comrade.'

The sound of boots crunching their way off in the new snow soon diminished and they were left alone. Carl motioned for her to sit down in one of the two wooden straight-backed chairs at a plank table, careful to keep his weapons out of her reach. He had no idea about how dangerous a woman like this might be. He laid his pack down and sat in the other chair, taking a ration of black bread and a can of sardines out of his pack. He opened the tin and cut a slice of bread off and shoved them in front of her. 'Eat! I'm not going to hurt you.'

She warily reached for the food, her hunger overcoming her pride. She greedily stuffed the bread into her mouth, almost choking in her rush to swallow the food. Langer said nothing, just opened his canteen and handed it across the table to her. Choking, she swallowed a gulp of water, helping to force the coarse bread down her throat.

Softly, he spoke, 'Take it easy, eat slow.' He leaned back away from the table, aware of her feelings of hate for all who wore a uniform. Knowing the fear and hatred that was boiling inside her, he gave her time to relax and take some of the edge off as she finished eating and took the last swig of water. She screwed the red cap back on to the canteen and sat back. The swelling around her eye took nothing away from the defiance and hate showing there.

In good German, her voice clear and strong, if a little shaky around the edges, she asked, 'What now, hero? Should I take my clothes off so you can be paid for the food?'

Langer shook his head. 'No, I'm not going to do anything to you.' He lit up a smoke and noticed the gleam in her eye.

'Want one?' He passed the pack and some matches over to her. Lighting up she let the smoke drift up into her nostrils and inhaled deeply, then exhaled the smoke slowly.

'Are you a Jew?'

Her head jerked up straight, her back erect as that of a British sergeant major. 'Yes! I'm a Jew.'

He nodded his head. 'I thought so; even though the headhunters said you were, you can't always believe those sons of bitches.'

She looked at him carefully; was this some kind of trick? For him to speak out against his own kind like this.

'No, I'm not one of them in spite of the uniform. I'm a soldier, not a butcher; there's no love lost between me and the SS supermen, especially those of the Allegemeine, although I have to admit the Waffen SS troops are about as tough as any I have ever seen. But their field troops are not garbage like the SD and SA.' He could see the doubt in her eyes; there was one way that he might get through to her. 'Mah sheem-Hah?' He asked her name in Hebrew. Startled she looked back and answered, 'Shem meesh-pakht- teh Deborah Sapir. Hah-Eevreet-yoht Ah-Tenn?'

'No, I'm not a Hebrew, though I did spend some time in Judea a long time ago.'

The ice was broken; curiosity overcame some of her caution. She looked at the square-built figure as he took his coat off; the room was warming. True, he looked the part of a German, the close-cropped hair and scarred face, and there was something brutal about him, but it wasn't that insane cruelty of the SS or NKVD. His was that of a hunting animal who kills only for survival, not pleasure. There was something else too. She looked deep into the gray-blue eyes; behind them lay a great sadness, a feeling of terrible isolation and weariness. She shook her head to clear these feelings, as if she had almost been hypnotized. Taking a bite from his own chunk of bread, he chewed slowly, thinking. He caught her looking at the medals he wore, the fear and suspicion coming back. He leaned back in his chair and spoke softly, but in a direct way, to her. 'Don't let the uniform influence you. Most men are no different, no matter what color the uniform they wear. Most Germans are the same as men everywhere, with families that they love, but they, like the Russians, are victims of a few ambitious men, men gone insane seeking their immortality; and insanity is contagious, it can drive those about them mad with the same sickness of mind and spirit.

'Those who fight this war, the soldiers, are caught up in that madness. It's too big to resist, and now they're committed to see it through to the end; it's gone too far to back away. I believed in the war in the beginning for reasons of my own. I felt that Russia had to be stopped before she grew so strong that no power would ever be able to resist her. The Communists are no better than the Nazis, they both feed on fear and power, but as wrong as the war was to start with, it has to go on a while longer. I know Germany is losing; the Allies have landed back on the European continent. Italy is almost gone, and every day we have fewer men to face the hordes of Russians that