In the village, the tenants waited and he passed amongst them, holding his hand out to be kissed, though not in arrogance; it was a tradition that had reigned in Holstein Heath for hundreds of years. These were his people, and the women who cried in despair did it because they looked to him for guidance.
Hoffer came to him, his face bleak. “Your orders, Baron?”
“We’re going to get these swine. Are you ready to leave, Hoffer?”
Before he could reply, young Schneider said, “And me, too, Baron.”
“Excellent.”
“And you can include me,” Ritter said. “I can shoot a Schmeisser with the best of them.”
As chance would have it, it was at that moment that the Americans arrived.
Not that they were much of a force. It was a single jeep and the young captain in the passenger seat wore a steel helmet and combat gear. His shoulder patch indicated an Airborne Ranger. A sergeant was at the wheel. They rolled to a halt and sat there, watchful.
“Does anyone here speak English?” the captain asked.
“Of course,” the Baron said.
“Good. I’ll take your surrender. My unit is about ten miles back. I’m Captain James Kelly, on forward reconnaissance. This is Sergeant Hanson.”
“And what might you be doing here?”
“Hey, buddy.” The driver picked up a submachine gun. “Watch your mouth.”
Ritter and Hoffer and young Schneider raised their Schmeissers threateningly, and Kelly said to Hanson, “Can it.” He spoke to von Berger. “We have information that the castle would make a possible headquarters. Who are you, anyway?”
“
Kelly shook his head. “Wait a minute. I’ve got a report that says von Berger’s in the Bunker with Hitler. One of his aides or something.”
“True as of yesterday,” von Berger said. “If you will look behind you at the meadows, you will notice the Storch in which Captain Hans Ritter here flew me and my two men out of Berlin.”
Kelly nodded. “Okay, we’ll argue about it later. You can all surrender your weapons now.”
“This is a great coup for you, Captain, but, if you don’t mind, not just yet. We’ve urgent business to take care of first.”
“And what would that be?”
Max von Berger told him.
Kelly shook his head. “That’s a terrible thing, but you four guys are going to take on twenty-one of these bastards? You could get killed and I can’t allow that to happen.”
“I see. I’m too valuable to lose?” Von Berger shook his head. “It’s been a long war, Captain. From El Alamein to Stalingrad, I’ve seen hell on earth, and for me the war is over. I don’t want to kill you, but I must kill these men. I could not live with myself otherwise. So we will leave in the old woodcutter’s truck, drive ten miles down to Plosen, and there we’ll find the Ukrainians and get the business done.” He turned to Hoffer. “You drive.”
Kelly started to say something, and then he stopped. “Ah, hell, Baron, I guess I’d do the same thing. But afterward…”
“You’re an optimist, I see. All right, let’s go.”
The road wound through dark, somber forest all the way to Plosen. When they were close, they came across a crowd of women and older men moving along either side of the road. Hoffer pulled up and recognized the village mayor.
“Hey, Frankel, what’s happening?”
“My God, it’s you, Karl. These Ukrainians, we know what they did in Neustadt. Young Meyer escaped on his motorcycle, came and gave us warning. We all left in a hurry, faded into the forest. I hear they did terrible things.”
Von Berger got out and held out his hand. “Frankel.”
The old man’s eyes widened. “Baron, this is unbelievable.” He kissed the hand. “Meyer told me about the Baroness and your son.” He turned to Hoffer. “And your Lotte?”
Kelly and Hanson came round from the jeep, and Ritter and Schneider joined them. Kelly said, “What’s happening?”
“The mayor of Plosen is just about to tell us,” von Berger said in English, then in German, “Where are they, Frankel?”
“I stayed close to observe. They came in two trucks and a
“Any guards?” Hoffer asked.
“Not that I could see.”
Von Berger patted his shoulder. “Take care of your people and I’ll take care of these animals.”
“But, Baron, there are twenty-four of them.”
“Really? I thought it was twenty-one.” He turned to Ritter, Schneider and Hoffer. “So, that’s six for each of us. Can we manage that?”
“Haven’t we always, Baron?” Hoffer opened a battle pack, took out double ammunition clips taped together and handed them to Ritter and Schneider.
Von Berger opened his black leather coat, took the Luger from his holster, checked it and put it in his right-hand pocket. “Have you a spare, Karl?”
Hoffer produced a Mauser from the battle pack and handed it over. Von Berger put it in the left-hand pocket of his coat.
“Twenty-four of these bastards and four of you. That’s odds of six to one,” Kelly said.
Von Berger smiled, grimly. “We’re Waffen SS. We’re used to it.” He clapped Schneider on the shoulder. “He’s only a boy, but he knows how to do the job. Six to one? So what? Take your camouflage blouse off, Karl.” Hoffer did so, and Kelly saw the medals, the paratrooper’s badge, a single Knight’s Cross at the throat.
“You will also have observed that Captain Ritter has the Knight’s Cross. It’s been a long war and it’s had a bad ending, but you must understand one thing. We intend to kill these Ukrainians, all twenty-four. Kill them.” He turned to his men. “Is this not so?”
Even Ritter got his heels together as they gave the answer:
He ignored Kelly completely now. “Let’s go,” and they scrambled into the truck and drove away.
As the jeep followed, Hanson said, “That guy is crazy, they all are.”
Kelly nodded. “Absolutely.” He took the Colt from his holster and started to reload it as they followed the truck.
They paused in the trees and looked down at the White Stag. It was quite large and very ancient, with the village church and a graveyard behind. Kelly glanced through field glasses at the two trucks and the
“I’ll go in the front door, which will put them off balance. They are, after all, supposed to be under SS authority. I suggest the rest of you go by the graveyard.” He said to Ritter, “Karl knows it well. The bar is very large. There are two rear entrances via the kitchen and side windows.” He turned to Kelly. “One favor. I’ll borrow your jeep to drive up to the door. You two can stay here and my friends will approach on foot.”
Kelly shook his head. “No, I won’t lend you the jeep. But I will drive it.” He turned to Hanson. “Give me that Thompson. I’ll see you later – maybe.”
“Go to hell,” Hanson said. “With all due respect, sir. I’ve been fighting since D-Day. A walk through a graveyard
