Bob Carruthers - Into the Gates of Hell - Stug Command '41

“SS-Untersturmführer Dirlewanger,” he shouted, “one of our animals is still breathing!”

“Well, let’s think what Hauptsturmführer von Schroif would say? Is he bolshevised?” shouted Dirlewanger.

“I think he is, SS-Untersturmführer,” replied the man, prodding the prone figure with his boot.

“Good, then Hauptsturmführer von Schroif would expect you to obey the order and summarily execute him.”

“It is done,” said the man, thrusting his bayonet into the prone figure.

The name von Schroif was well known to Korsak but hearing it again came as a rude shock.

“SS troops under his command? It must be him? So he is still involved? It comes as no surprise that these fascist animals would condone a scene like this.”

“We try and show these objectionable pieces of inbred shit some mercy by putting a bullet in the back of their heads and this ungrateful schwein throws it back in our faces by staying alive!” said Dirlewanger, at which his men laughed loudly.

Behind him, one woman tried to escape from her guards and tried to run towards the trench, before being kicked to the ground. One of the soldiers raised his rifle to shoot, but Dirlewanger indicated to him not to fire.

“Let her live. I may have a role for her in a show I am thinking of putting on. I am an impresario, am I not? And we need entertainment, do we not? How else are we to find release from the repetitive drudgery of the slaughterhouse? Pick your favourites, men. You can have them after my little entertainment has worked up our appetites.”

Hearing this degrading pronouncement his men laughed and cheered in their sickening manner.

To Korsak it seemed as if this ringmaster from hell was orchestrating his animals towards some inhuman, sadistic finale. It was obvious that the women and children had no idea what was to happen next◦— nor did Dimitri Korsak, who at least understood German◦— but by the looks on their faces, the sobs and the hellish low moaning, they looked only too well aware that some kind of unimaginable depravity was about to be unleashed upon them.

“Come here, sweet Frau.” Dirlewanger motioned to the woman who had been kicked to the ground, opening his arms and smiling. “Please forgive my men. It has not been easy for them. Please do not be scared. Come to father. Please, I am begging you. Daddy is not going to hurt you.”

The woman tentatively, still shaking, rose to her feet, but then the sniggers and cackling of Dirlewanger’s men made her stop and freeze with fear.

“Comrades!” Dirlewanger shouted, his seriousness masking a grin he knew his men could see. “Please show some respect! Silence! Please, for this lady’s sake!” He then returned his attention to the woman. “Come on, it’s not all bad. Please come here.” Again he opened his arms, looking for all the world like a long-lost uncle. “That’s it. I’m not going to hurt you.”

The woman looked terrified but, realizing she had no choice, she stepped slowly towards him. Dimitri Korsak felt sick.

“Now, my pretty young Madam,” Dirlewanger continued as the woman grew closer, “do you speak German? Speaky Deutsch?”

The woman, still petrified, shook her head.

Dirlewanger continued in the fake long-lost uncle tone, talking down to the woman as if she were a small child or pet. Realizing that she did not understand a word, he changed the content of what he was saying.

“I am sorry. It was my mistake, all my fault. You are not a pretty young maiden at all. You are a fat, stinking piece of cow shit. But, having said that, please do not feel you will not give one of my fine German boys some pleasure before you die. This will be your final privilege, to stare into ecstatic German eyes at the moment you are thankfully expunged from this world. Now, it may be that more than one of these studs might want to share his pleasure with you, but that is a problem easily solved◦— we just use our knives to carve out a few more holes to add to the two you already have◦— new ones, but this time, clean ones. Please consider this an honour◦— and an unexpected joy. The more the merrier. The pig likes to be stuck, doesn’t she?”

The woman looked on blankly.

“Now, my dear, what we need for this show is some atmosphere. It helps galvanise the male leads. Look, clappy, clappy!” Dirlewanger made clapping movements with his hands.

The woman looked on in disbelief.

Then, raising his hands above his head and clapping, he turned to the other women.

“Look, everyone◦— clappy, clappy!”

None responded. Dirlewanger, however, did not shout or lose his temper. He was enjoying himself too much. He smiled some more, raised his voice, and spoke in demented pidgin Russian.

“Da! Clappy, Clappy, then happy, happy, dancey, dancey, free to, to◦— go freee… free to go! But nyet, clappy, clappy,” he continued, lowering his voice and pointing to the children, “then bangy, bangy, deady, deady!”

The message was clear, unequivocal and understood by all.

“Excellent!” exclaimed Dirlewanger. “I am glad we are all clear on this…. Now, after me, clappy! Clappy!” He put his hands back over his head and started jumping up and down. “Clappy! Clappy!”

Slowly the women started to clap◦— what choice did they have? Louder and louder it grew, this madness, this demonic dance. Korsak felt like shutting his eyes to try keeping the nausea at bay.

“Good. Good. Very good, good women, good women!” He then stopped clapping and motioned the first woman over to the trench. “Loew, come here!” he shouted to one of his men. “I think we need an interpreter◦— just so there are no misunderstandings here!”

Loew almost skipped across to do his master’s bidding.

“Now, Loew, please speak to this bitch◦— and don’t worry, you don’t have to stand too close◦— and find out if she knows the scum in there who is still alive.”

Loew then spoke to the woman in Russian.

“Commander, this is her husband.”

“Perfect! Right, let’s get him out!” Dirlewanger turned to the women, whose clapping was starting to wane. “Keepy clappy, clappy! Keepy clappy!” Then he turned to his men who were pulling the poor woman’s husband from the trench. “Careful with him boys◦— we don’t want him dying before the show is over!”

Dirlewanger then addressed Leow. “Can you find out if she has any other relatives here? Tell her…. tell her… tell her that… Ok, I’ve got it! Tell her that, under German military tradition, any man who survives a firing squad is free to go with all his family.”

Leow then relayed this sickening lie to the woman who, after a slight hesitation, pointed to a teenage boy, a young girl and an old man.

“My friends! Come here. Come here! Frau, Frau! Call your family across and give them the good news!” He then spoke again to Loew. “Tell her this, tell her to call her family and that they are now free to go.”

Leow spoke to the woman, who then called her family across. Korsak had to fight every impulse in his body to prevent shouting out, but he knew he had to get back to the fortress. Unarmed, his death here would be futile. If only he had a weapon!

Once the family were together Dirlewanger strode across to the other women. “Clappy, clappy! Da, da! Or Bangy, bangy!” He once more pointed to the children.

Sickeningly, the women clapped louder.

“Good. Very good!” smiled Dirlewanger as he strutted back to the woman and her family. Then he addressed everyone assembled, like some crazed choreographer in the seventh circle of hell. “Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls…” The last word was uttered with an inhuman roll of the eyes heavenward. “Please be upstanding for today’s matinee. Let the show begin!”