“Unterscharfuhrer?”
Weiss was a man who had survived the worst the Soviet partisans could throw at him, and definitely a man to be listened to.
“He’s right. Something doesn’t sit right, Hauptsturmfuhrer.”
He dropped his binoculars and leaned in closer to his commander, Emmering mirroring his closeness on Lenz’s other side.
“Everything seems normal, but there is a tension there. I can feel it.”
Emmering nodded his agreement and added his supporting view.
“It’s there, Hauptsturmfuhrer. It seems different to the last time we observed… there’s a tension there… something’s not right.”
He lowered his voice even more.
“They seem to be doing the same routines that we have seen… I even think there’s less people wandering around… village is quiet… the bar shut early… maybe that’s a sign, Hauptsturmfuhrer.”
The sound of an engine drew the three of them back to their observations.
An ambulance graunched its gears as it slowed to enter the north gate. The vehicle delivered its awful cargo and disappeared back off into the night.
A light went off in Lenz’s brain.
“The ambulance.”
His NCOs waited for further explanation.
“It’s that fucking ambulance. The one that just drove in… didn’t bring wounded… just parked up.”
Emmering’s brain lit up in response.
“And it came in from the south-east there… and…” his mind brought up something he had seen and not understood, “And the others… the ones that actually dropped off wounded, came in from the north-east and up the 7313… only the north-east and the 7313.”
Weiss gave voice to his mind’s immediate suggestion.
“The one we found?”
Lenz nodded, although Weiss didn’t really see the acknowledgement of his question.
“It’s a trap, has to be.”
Both NCOs tensed ready for the inevitable string of orders.
Lenz, his heart set on the supplies and the possibility of a medic, dwelt on the matter for a moment longer, until his head took over and imposed ordered thinking.
‘Too much of a risk. Verdamnt!’
He scrambled backwards, followed by the two NCOs, halting well below the ridgeline.
Dragging the zeltbahn over their heads, Lenz switched his torch on, applying a low light to the map he held.
“Right. We move away, and quickly. Unterscharfuhrer, organise your group and take the lead. Head…,” he consulted the map and swiftly decided upon a destination, “South, staying within the woods. I want us to be here… between Holzkirch and Lonsee… before the sun comes up. Klar?”
“Zu befehl, Hauptsturmfuhrer”
“Go.”
Weiss slipped out from under the zeltbahn and was already lost in the darkness before Emmering got his orders.
“Rearguard… yourself and of your three men… the rest come with me… you relocate to here…observe the camp for an hour… then, or before, if you see movement… sit on this junction here,” he jabbed at the map, indicating a small crossroads in the woods.
Emmering understood his task.
“Wait one hour there and then follow up quickly.”
Lenz stifled a yawn, one of nervousness, not lack of sleep.
“We’ll meet here, overlooking this valley. If you’re being pursued, move through the valley… be noisy if you can… and we’ll spring something on your hounds. Klar?”
“Alles klar, Hauptsturmfuhrer.”
No further words were spoken, and SS-Kommando Lenz melted back into the dark forest.
“Anything at all, Pennsylvania-six, over.”
Hanebury strained to hear the reply, as Stradley tried to keep his voice low on the radio.
“Negative since last report, Pennsylvania-six-two, over.”
Major Imerman was singularly unimpressed. He had drawn the duty for no other reason that he was rostered off medical duties for that night.
The lack of sleep that came hand in hand with the responsibility of command made him less than agreeable.
“So, a goddamned wild goose chase then, Sergeant.”
Hanebury let it go.
“No, Sir. They’re up there… no question… were up there. Something spooked them. They musta seen something and they’ve bugged out.”
The MP NCO found himself suddenly unwinding, convinced that he was right, and that the infiltrators had gone.
None the less, he could not bring himself to order a stand down… ‘request a stand down’ he reminded himself, as Imerman made angry clucking noises off to his left.
The two MP forces remained waiting until 0315 hrs, when Hanebury made the decision, Imerman’s presence a long distant memory, the dentist having, with Hanebury’s blessing, retreated to his sleeping quarters before one o’clock.
SS-Kommando Lenz had had a close brush with the devil and, unknown to them, escaped certain death.
But Lucifer was not to be cheated, and laid his plans.
“I’m very sorry to hear that, Mr President, truly I am.”
Churchill listened intently as Truman confirmed everything that had been reported about the state of public opinion in the States.
The backlash against the use of the bombs was huge, and still growing, and presently more active than the support for further use of the weapons.
“Yes, Mr President, I can only agree with you.”
Both men were, in realistic terms, politically safe, or as safe as an incumbent politician can be when faced with internal revolts.
Churchill had been in power less than a year, and had been confirmed as leader for the duration of the Soviet War.
Truman had succeeded to the Executive post on the death of FDR, and the next election was not until November 1948.
However, the turmoil that had developed over the use of the bombs on Japan had taken their administrations aback.
Both had known that public opinion might not care for the images that appeared, although a large number just appeared from out of the ether, and most were not ‘official’ photos at all, but neither of them was prepared for the depth of feelings that washed over the Allied countries.
Horror and anti-war feelings on one side, ‘they had it coming’ feelings on the other.
More often, anti-war feelings were being expressed in every other Allied nation, and already the South American nations had expressed a desire to distance themselves fully from the Atomic strikes, up to and including withdrawal from the Alliance.
Opposition politicians found numerous bandwagons to jump on, citing the horrendous casualties suffered by the Allies and the latest developments in the technological arts of warfare, either as reasons to negotiate a peace and withdraw the troop, or to lay waste to Eastern Europe, all the way to the Chinese border.
Alongside the marches in protest or support of the three Atomic bombings were huge gatherings that called upon the leaderships to use the bomb or strike a deal for peace.
Politicians from Quebec to Buenos Aires, New York to Paris, across the spectrum of the Allied nations, spoke in terms of the inevitability of Soviet agreement to any terms the Allies would offer, now that the destructive capacity of the Atomic bomb was clear.
After all, as the French Prime Minister Félix Gouin stated openly, ‘No sane leadership could possibly fail to see the likely effects of continued conflict.’
Gouin had not had the benefit of meeting Stalin face to face, unlike the two men engaged in a secure telephone call, sat alone in their offices, thousands of miles apart, but joined in their mutual hatred of the idea of allowing Stalin’s aggression to stand.
In the States, the growing movement to stop the war was still completely dwarfed by the calls to fully prosecute the war, and employ more bombs to bring it to a conclusion that meant the boys could come home, and that the Soviet Union was transformed into warm ash.