Peter Idone - Red Vengeance

“Just a precaution.”

Herzog took the bundle from Fritch and felt its weight. “Are we pulling out tonight?”

The question stabbed at Angst. “What makes you ask?”

“Because I don’t see the point in lingering. We could have crossed the Dniepr by now. What’s your CO got planned?”

“He doesn’t confide in me. I have to get along; I’ve got more rounds to make.” They probably take me for a good fellow , Angst thought, as he rode over toward the repair depot to distribute the last of the chow and hand out cigarettes. And soon I’ll be leaving them in the lurch. They haven’t an inkling of what we’ve been doing out here, and no one has had the decency to inform them. Well, that’s the officers’ responsibility, not mine. Braun was right to want to get out. This place is a death trap. The best of men, in the heat of battle, is liable to panic and run. In this instance all three of us stand a good chance at arriving at our lines claiming to be stragglers. If it becomes necessary, we can ditch the car and go the rest of the way on foot. The details have to be worked out, and our story must ring true if the field police interrogate us individually. The slightest pressure, given the condition we’re in, and we could easily crack . What gnawed at him was how calculated they had become in an effort to save their own skins. And only their skins.

Schmidt was awakened by the sound of the motorcycle reverberating within the cold, damp stonewalls of the empty machine shop. It had been his turn to sleep. Braun rolled his eyes when Angst laid the grenade bundle on the ledge of the window casement. He refused the tin of herring. “I’ll burp fish for days.” He did opt for the coffee and a nibble of chocolate, mostly as an experiment to see if he could keep a little food down. Angst explained his new duty with the motorcycle. “The lieutenant will want to see me. I might be busy for a while.”

Braun drank directly from the canteen. “Make sure you’re here by dark. We’re not waiting.”

“I’ll be here. There’s one more thing… the women.”

“What about them?” Braun sounded unusually cantankerous.

“They’re coming with us,” Angst told him.

“Who says?”

“I already told them. Monika at least. She’ll inform the others at the proper time.”

“You did what?”

“We have to take them.”

Braun was livid and cringed with pent-up frustration. “What possessed you to do something so stupid? They’ll blab! Voss and the captain will be on to us.”

“Let’s not fight, Freddy,” Schmidt said, in an attempt at conciliation, but Braun was a lit charge and on the verge of exchanging blows. “What do we owe them? I don’t know these women. They mean nothing to me. You said they were whores, for Christ’s sake.”

“We’d be real shits if we didn’t take them along.”

“So, I’ll be a shit. There’s no room. All six of us packed in the Volkswagen? We’d sink in the mud.”

“No you won’t. Besides, I’ve got this.” Angst gestured toward the motorcycle.

“He’s right, Freddy, we can’t only think of ourselves. It might bring us bad luck.”

“The chivalrous nature of our friend here could be all the bad luck we could ever want or need, but I seem to be outnumbered. Very well—but they had better be here on time, or here they stay. And another thing…” Braun, with unmistakable menace, closed in on Angst. “If this plan falls short because of your big mouth, I’m taking you all the way down with me.”

Angst was more disappointed than angry at the way his friend chose to impress his point. “It won’t come to that.”

“Good. Just as long as there is no misunderstanding.”

The bow machine gun had been removed from the Hanomag and set up in the flak gun pit. Sergeant Reinhardt manned the weapon, and, standing some distance away, Voss observed the landscape with binoculars. Angst pulled up beside him. “You wanted to see me, Lieutenant.”

Voss nodded and climbed into the sidecar. A flare pistol was tucked into his belt. He signaled for Angst to go forward, due west. Riding at a reasonable speed, and careful not to splash through any standing water that had settled in the depressions, Angst drove for two kilometers before he was told to stop. “Turn off that motor, Corporal,” Voss said, and got out of the sidecar. Despite the accumulating overcast, the visibility was good. The flat terrain extended for another six to eight kilometers before the downward slope of the river valley began. “Will Red Vengeance make its approach from the west, Lieutenant?”

“It may, although I would think it would maneuver as far away from the defensive salient as possible. That would be the more logical choice, but with Red Vengeance, logic does not always play a role. So I’ve been told, anyway.”

“How do you mean, Lieutenant?”

Voss wondered if the corporal was being purposefully dense but hadn’t the strength to pursue the question. He let the binoculars hang by the strap and consulted his watch. “What is your precise time, Corporal?”

Angst looked at his wristwatch, waited for a moment, and then said, “Fourteen hundred oh nine hours.”

Voss made an incremental adjustment to the second hand and then let his arm fall heavily to his side. “What an interminably long day this has been. A beastly day.” Voss sensed that his entire life had been a preparation for this day and was astonished at how shortchanged he felt, now that it had arrived. “How good are you at following orders, Corporal?”

“No better or worse than the rest of the crew. Have I not carried out my duties to your satisfaction, Lieutenant?” Angst asked.

“That’s not why I asked. Over these past number of days since we have been confined aboard the Hanomag, I have yet to form an opinion of your character, not so much as an individual but as a soldier. Hard as it is to believe, in our time together, we have yet to serve under combat conditions.”

“What about last night?”

“I’m speaking more in terms of achieving specific objectives. What occurred last night seemed more of a fight among our Kameraden rather than against the enemy,” Voss said.

“Putting it that way, I guess you’re right, Lieutenant.”

“The reason I ask is because I need to know if you are the type of soldier who will act decisively when ordered? Or would you vacillate? At such moments, the luxury of weighing the outcome of one’s actions can’t be afforded, and there isn’t the time to consider one’s orders, because swift and immediate action is demanded.”

“If I’ve learned anything, sir, timing is everything, especially at a critical moment.”

Voss smiled. “Would you say we are at a critical moment?”

“I would most definitely say we are.”

“So, I ask again, Corporal, would you be quick to follow an order, no matter how absurd, bizarre, or even questionable?”

My response is crucial , Angst thought; he’s fishing for a particular answer . “I’d follow any order that would get me and the last of my squad back to our outfit, sir.”

“We share the same sentiment.” Voss returned to his binoculars, and for the next three quarters of an hour, he maintained observation on the western horizon. When it came time to leave, he climbed into the sidecar. “At eighteen hundred hours, Wilms resumes his watch. Drive him to the tower, drop him off, and bring Mueller back to the square. Meet me behind the administration building at no later than eighteen thirty hours.”

“Yes, Lieutenant.”

“And bring along one of your men, the best of your squad. Someone you can trust. Make sure you both come fully armed. We’re still on alert.”