Of that he was certain.
As the truck rumbled past the bodies, he watched two old men collecting the corpses in their cart, and they passed by a large ditch where the dead had been stacked like sardines in a tin, head to toe.
That’s what a defeated country looks like. A landscape of shattered ruins, dust, debris… and carcasses stacked like timber.
Pieter passed him a tin mug of steaming potato soup. ‘Here you are.’
‘Thanks.’
He sat beside Max and stared miserably out at the passing landscape of rubble. ‘It’s all over now, isn’t it?’
‘Soon. Weeks, maybe days.’
Pieter lowered his voice. ‘Days would be better than weeks.’
Max mumbled agreement. It would be better to end it now while all three of the Allied nations could claim an equal stake on Germany, rather than let the war run on. The Russians were covering ground at a far greater pace than the Americans and British. Having lost so many of her people to the Germans over the last few years, the Russians were a little less concerned about their casualty rate in this final chapter of the war. The Americans and the British, however, seemed more cautious in the way they were finishing the war, reluctant to lose too many more men to a struggle they considered all but over.
Max looked around at Pieter and the other men, Hans and Stefan. They were all ready to walk into an American or British POW camp. All three men had fought with him on the eastern front for the last year and a half, flying JU-88s, dropping supplies to the beleaguered 6th Army — a futile endeavour that had achieved very little and cost too much in lost men and machines. For the last four months, their role had been reduced to moving their plane back from the frontline; a concerted effort to keep the few remaining bombers out of the hands of the enemy. Finally, two weeks ago, when the fuel supply had finally dried up, they’d been forced to destroy what was left of the squadron and take to the road… and that was when KG-301 had ceased to exist and became nothing more than a few hundred men scattered along the retreating column.
These boys had done their bit, flying for whatever it was they believed in, the Fatherland or the Fuhrer. Now all they wanted to do was to find a way to survive the next few weeks until someone decided enough was enough and called a halt to the bloodbath.
‘That SS shit didn’t give you any clues what this is about?’ asked Pieter.
‘No, but if I had cigarettes to bet, I’d wager this is a regrouping exercise. Someone is attempting to pull together a counter-offensive.’
‘A counter-? With what for fuck’s sake?’
Max shrugged. ‘ We know there’s nothing left to fly, but whoever’s organised this truck probably thinks 301 is still operational.’
Pieter’s face drained of colour. It was a response Max hadn’t seen from him in a long time. His co-pilot had begun to believe he was going to make it home.
‘I’m not going on any more raids. I can’t — ’
Max reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder. ‘Don’t worry, there aren’t any more planes left. There is no more Luftwaffe, there’s nothing more they can ask us to do. Whatever morons are behind this, they’ll find out soon enough, and then I suppose they’ll go and find us something pointless to do until the war ends.’
Pieter nodded.
‘Just be grateful that this particular screw-up has given us our own truck, heater and food.’
‘Yeah, I suppose you’re right, one of their better screw-ups. ’
‘Exactly.’
Chapter 14
As the light of dusk was failing, the truck rumbled through the outskirts of another shattered town and out into an open area.
Max stirred as the truck shuddered to a halt and he heard a muted exchange of voices in the gathering dark. He turned to Pieter, but he was fast asleep, as were the others, comforted by the warmth of the oil heater and exhausted from days of deprivation.
He leaned over and lifted the canvas at the back of the truck to look out. The last light of day was now no more than a dusty grey strip on the horizon. They were in an open field. He could only see the irregular outlines of trees against the sky.
Max could hear the driver talking to someone. The conversation ended, and the truck proceeded, bouncing across an open stretch of grass. A guard hut passed by and they were within a chain-fenced perimeter. Max spotted the unmistakable outline of an aircraft hangar. It was an airfield.
His heart sank.
The truck came to an abrupt stop moments later and he detected movement out in the dark. A torch momentarily snapped on and shone into his face.
‘Oberleutnant Kleinmann.’ It was Hostner. ‘Get your men ready and follow me. Quickly.’
The torch snapped off again.
Max turned back to his men; they were beginning to stir. ‘Okay, boys, we’re here.’
‘Where?’ asked Stef sleepily.
‘I don’t know. Get your stuff, we’ve got to get out.’
The four men wearily got to their feet, shuffled to the back of the truck and climbed down into the night.
The torch snapped on again and shone into their faces.
‘Follow me, please.’
A hand appeared from behind the torch and wrapped over its end, dampening the light to an orange glow. The muted torchlight began to move away. ‘Come on, hurry!’
Max nodded to his men and they followed him as he led them away from the truck.
‘Where are we?’ asked Pieter.
‘An airstrip. God knows where,’ he replied.
‘Shit. I was right. Another bloody mission.’
Leutnant Hostner led them towards a low bunker they didn’t see until the last moment. He rapped on a metal door with the torch, and almost immediately it opened a crack, revealing a faint light from inside.
‘I have Kleinmann, and his crew for Major Rall.’
The light went out, and Max heard the door creak as it opened.
‘Inside, quickly.’
Hostner ushered them through, and once inside they heard the door slam behind them.
A dim ceiling light came on, a single bulb illuminating a featureless concrete corridor. Hostner held out a hand to Max. ‘Sorry for bundling you out like that. I just wanted to get you men inside before any of their planes spotted the torch. They own the sky now.’
‘What’s this all about?’
‘I’m sorry. You’ll be seeing Major Rall soon. He will explain it all.’
‘Then at least tell me where the hell we are.’
‘Ulmsruhe, several hours south of Stuttgart.’
‘Where are we going?’
‘I have orders to take you to Major Rall immediately, sir.’
Max followed the man along the concrete corridor to a set of steps that took them downwards.
‘What is this place, Leutnant?’
‘A regional intelligence post. Well, it used to be until it was abandoned last week. Major Rall appropriated it a couple of days ago. So you’ll have to excuse us if it looks a little messy.’
The steps descended into another featureless corridor. Several doors opened on to it. The SS Leutnant led
