Peter Idone - Red Vengeance

“What are you saying, Voss?”

“I released several of the men from their duty and gave them separate orders to evacuate with the civilian Wehrmacht employees. I believe the attack has occurred on the east sector of town.”

“Separate orders to evacuate? What orders?” Falkenstein gathered his helmet and goggles from the bar counter.

“Stemming from my attitude and behavior, after our last conversation…”

“What is done is done. I will deal with your extraordinary lapse in judgment later.” As quickly as he was capable, Falkenstein rushed out of the house. The qualms of his adjutant no longer mattered to him now; Red Vengeance had arrived, finally. Something close to elation, a release welled up from within him. There was a tinge of worry, though. Khan. Where is he, Falkenstein wondered, if he hasn’t met a cruel fate? He struggled through the scout car’s narrow door and entered the turret. The Hanomag pulled up with Reinhardt and Mueller in the crew compartment, securing the MG42 to the bow coaxial mount. Everyone’s attention was turned toward the workers’ settlement. Machine guns clattered. Another flare went up. Falkenstein had put on the headphones and adjusted the throat mike. “This is Two-Twenty-Two Falkenstein. What can you see, Wilms?”

“Tracer rounds… hull machine gun engaged.”

“Is it stationary or mobile?”

“Heading west to east, it’s on a rampage through the settlement. Cannon fire…” They heard the blast from the 76 mm gun and the resulting explosion. “Direct hit on a house at point blank range… incendiary shell… house is burning white hot. Movement… men running. T-34 has moved from out among the houses.”

“What direction?”

“North of settlement. I can no longer see it.”

“Stand by, Wilms.” Falkenstein leaned out of the turret. “We’re going over. Voss, look for any survivors by the repair depot. Take the motorcycle and bring that flamethrower along. Depending on how fluid the situation gets, meet us at the settlement. Sergeant Reinhardt, direct the Two-Five-One to the settlement, but remain on the south side of the road.”

Mueller passed the flamethrower down to Voss, and the two vehicles sped off. Voss slipped his arms into the shoulder harness and hustled across the square to the assembly hall, where Angst had last parked the BMW. He dumped the weapon into the sidecar and kick-started the engine. Bruno, the medical orderly, stepped out from the dancing shadows. The fires at the settlement burned brightly. “It has begun,” Bruno commented. “I should be receiving customers soon.”

“I might bring one or two back with me, God willing,” Voss replied.

“I’ll take the first aid kit and go to the settlement.”

“No, not yet. Wait until the situation is more stable.”

Voss started to ride away, and the orderly ran a few steps after him. “When the situation is more stable?” he shouted. “Sometime in the next century, I shouldn’t wonder!”

With each movement there was pain; right shoulder, left knee, elbows, right hip… an assortment of sharp twinges in so many places Angst had difficulty trying to distinguish exactly where or what hurt the most. He didn’t know how long he had been unconscious. The rain had let up considerably. Slowly and painfully, he got to his feet and steadied himself. Glass and metal fragments fell from off his back. A crumpled section of the Volkswagen’s metal skin, part of a fender or hood panel, had been blown against the wall where he had lain and struck him, which would account for some of his injuries. A large contusion had formed above the knuckle on his left hand, and his cheek was bloody. He passed his hands over his groin, abdomen, and ribs to make sure nothing was torn or broken. His eardrums throbbed from the noise of the blast, but there was no sign of blood. He looked around, trying to adjust his sight to the darkness and his abused ears to the background dissonance of shouting and gunfire. His eyes sought out his companions. Schmidt was the only one whose body remained relatively intact, but he had absorbed a lethal dose of glass and metal. The force of the explosion had hurled the body into the open front of a tool shed. As for the others… “My God, the women!” A terrific wave of anguish engulfed him as he thought of Monika, Valeria, and Elenya. They had appeared radiant when they heard they were leaving to presumed safety. Instead, he had delivered them to be slaughtered. He tried to distinguish Braun amid the destruction and became ill with grief; the acids in his stomach welled up and burned his throat. He heard the sound of an engine and panicked, believing the tank had returned to finish him off. Fear overturned all grief as he tried to collect his thoughts. The MP40 submachine gun lay in the mud. He scrambled to pick it up and trained it on the thing that turned into the street. He put up the weapon before letting off a burst. It was the familiar putt-putt-putt of the BMW. The motorcycle braked and Voss jumped off and joined Angst beside the ruined body of his friend, Schmidt. The lieutenant’s gaze took in the carnage. “How badly are you hurt?”

“I’m doing better than most. The muffler was shot on the Volkswagen. The noise must have obscured the tank’s approach. I sent them all straight to hell.”

“You did no such thing. I’m largely at fault.”

“And now we must do something heroic, you and I, brave and foolish, with deadly consequences, but necessary. We owe it to our fallen Kameraden,” Angst said bitterly.

Voss ignored the cynicism and helped Angst drag Schmidt deeper into the tool shed. Angst knelt beside the body. “Willi was very kind, did you know that, Lieutenant? He was almost too kind, and religious to a fault. That’s what Braun said when we first met. They were best friends. Schmidt was always reading from that worn missal of his. I think he prayed the rosary every night before he went to sleep.”

Voss had to urge the corporal along. “Let me take you to the aid station.”

“There’s no need. I’m only banged up a little. I can’t account for why Red Vengeance didn’t run me over. It passed right by me.”

Because it’s not infallible, Voss thought. “It’s attacking the workers’ settlement right now. We should get over there, if you’re ready to travel.” Angst said that he was and climbed on the seat behind the driver’s saddle. After Voss had gotten on, Angst leaned his head on the lieutenant’s shoulder and closed his eyes. He was tired, so desperately tired. “Try to rally yourself, Corporal. There is plenty more that still needs to be done.”

Despite his fatigue, Angst was willing to do anything now. He wanted revenge. For the first time in this war, in his life, he wanted somebody to pay dearly for the loss of his friends and the misery he felt. Somebody or something.

The Hanomag nosed up to the road on the settlement’s far right flank. Hartmann stopped the vehicle between two houses, leaving ample space to swing around should it become necessary. The scout car pulled up from behind. Machine gun fire was sporadic. Wilms kept them abreast of the tank’s whereabouts as it continued to probe behind the houses on the north side of the settlement. Two figures rounded a corner and ran down the middle of the road at breakneck speed, one carrying an MG 42 and the other a box of ammunition. Reinhardt got their attention before they ran past the parked vehicles. It was Schroeder and Detwiler. They gasped for breath when they finally came to rest by the armored personnel carrier. Schroeder dropped the ammo box and went over to the captain’s vehicle. “What happened, Corporal?” Falkenstein asked.