Weiss’ men were given a few moments to police up their belongings and check their areas for giveaways of their presence, before Emmering ordered the move.
Lenz double-checked the area, finding nothing to betray their recent presence, and quickly moved on to catch-up.
He had debated killing Jensen. Indeed, most men in his position would undoubtedly have advised it, but something had softened inside of him, even if only towards his soldiers, and he had decided on another course of action.
He had sold it to Emmering with ease.
“They simply wouldn’t expect it, Oberscharfuhrer.”
Kommando Lenz headed north.
All except two men, who, with different orders, moved south.
Hanebury watched on as the pathetic attempts of the villagers failed to prevent the fire ripping through the heart of the fifteenth century church.
There was no point in detailing any of his men to assist.
The structure was as good as destroyed before he and his men had arrived, although he understood why the handful of men and women tried so hard to preserve the already damaged structure.
It was a community thing, something he could fully identify with.
Something drew his attention to a different sort of fuss, a one-legged man and a woman, grabbing people, shouting, apparently oblivious to the fire.
Clearly, the two had something serious on their minds, and Hanebury’s curiosity was piqued.
During their sweep of the countryside, Jim Hanebury had engaged the veteran Heinrich Raubach in conversation, and had struck up quite a rapport with the old man.
He caught Raubach’s eye and inclined his head towards the gathering.
Raubach understood immediately and strode off confidently. He was soon embroiled in a flurry of shouts and gesticulation, which mainly consisted of finger pointing at the woods to the north.
He returned quickly, his excitement lending him wings.
“The SS have been spotted.”
He grabbed Hanebury’s shoulder and pointed to the northern woods.
“In there, about a kilometre… they killed the young man’s father… five of them… moved off heading north.”
The First Sergeant grabbed his own jaw and looked at the woods, then back at the agitated gathering.
“We sure on this, Heinrich?”
“Certain sure. The boy’s a Luftwaffe veteran… lost his leg in Normandy… he knows what an SS man looks like. They’ve gone back north.”
Hanebury suddenly realised something he should have thought of previously.
‘The ambulance… the hospital… they’re desperate for medical stuff… shit! I’ve fucked up!’
“They’re going back to the hospital.”
It was simply a statement, requiring no response.
“Round the boys up, Corporal. Pronto.”
Collier called the MPs back to their vehicles as Lucifer grabbed the radio.
“Pennsylvania-six-tw…” he started into a coughing fit as a change in wind direction ensured that the command vehicle was engulfed in rich smoke, “Pennsylvania-six-two, Pennsylvania-six, over.”
Stradley responded immediately and took onboard the new information, and Hanebury’s instructions.
To the northeast, his unit accelerated back down the road they had come, intent on resuming their over watch positions as quickly as possible.
After a quick exchange with Raubach, one of the Germans was dropped off to bring the villagers into some semblance of order, the man Raubach selected being an ex-Kriegsmarine Petty Officer with a level-head and a loud voice.
Within two minutes, Hanebury’s men were back in the saddle and racing north.
The two SS troopers who had set fire to the church had long since vanished back into the woods.
The radio had alerted the hospital defenders to the possibility… actually, the probability that the enemy was coming back their way.
The additional information that this was possibly an old SS unit left over from the last war caused a lot of concern.
Throughout the hospital complex, the defenders came alive and wished the sun to hang in the sky for a bit longer.
Most gripped their weapons more tightly, and they were right to worry.
SS Kommando Lenz had plunged back through the forest, determined to take advantage of any distraction started by the detachment sent south, and determined to get the medicines they needed, for the group, and for Jensen in particular.
During the march, Emmering and Lenz had discussed the possibilities of leaving the delirious soldier for Allied doctors to tend, but their ingrained comradeship, SS code, and lack of faith in any Allied good treatment, dictated that Jensen would be with them until the end, whichever end that would be.
Stealing a medic became a priority and, as they had moved back towards the hospital, they discussed how best to do the job.
Allowing his men to take a rest, Lenz and his two senior NCOs moved to a position from which they could observe the site, but avoided the position that they had occupied before.
Their previous plan had been to use the terrain and sweep around to the west, and it still looked good, although the obvious presence of alert armed men on the hospital’s perimeter was an unwelcome change to cater for.
None the less, they were sure that whatever distraction Birtles and Kellerman had enacted in Lonsee-Sinabronn would keep any other elements looking in the other direction, at least long enough to do what they needed to do in Bräunisheim.
Lenz, Emmering, and Weiss had forgotten a couple of the simple lessons of war.
It is not a good idea for you to supply the answers to your own questions.
Things are not always what they seem.
Perhaps it was understandable, as the SS soldiers had been fighting everyone they came across since May 1945, killing Americans, Russians, and Americans again, as the armies see-sawed back and forth.
The Kommando had moved many kilometres from its starting point, and seen men lost throughout the fields and woods of Southern Germany.
Regardless of how tired they were, they were bad mistakes to make.
Time played its part in what happened next.
Speed was an issue, as in all military operations, but Lenz also wanted to be away as quickly as possible.
The attack would be timed for the initial hours of darkness, to allow them the maximum amount of time to escape the locale before enemy security units arrived.
Therefore Lenz elected to move his men to the assault point in the evening light; not ideal, but necessary.
From their final position, and with the twilight, they would be able to better assess the target and the approaches to it.
Using the terrain, he considered that he could move unseen, certainly by the defenders of the hospital complex.
Having let his men recover from the speedy move north, Lenz harried them into order and sent them scurrying up a roadside ditch, led by Weiss, with the rearguard commanded by Emmering.
Everything went smoothly until the ditch petered out at the junction of the lane and Route 7312.
The whole Kommando simply melted into the ditch, as hand signals made their way from man to man.
Lenz made his way forward, sliding in beside Weiss.
In whispers and using signals, Weiss showed his commander the problem.
Sat on the edge of the wood ahead, set into the rising slope, was a ‘something’ that had attracted Weiss’ experienced eye.
Carefully, Lenz accepted the binoculars and homed in on the unusual construction, just in time to see a small movement, betraying the presence of an enemy.
Closer examination brought the sight of a .30cal machine-gun barrel… and a waft of cigarette smoke.