The remaining Soviet military and NKVD forces in the Ukraine, if it was possible, increased their harsh treatment of the civilian population. The Red Air Force used the opportunity of the revolt to experiment with their own newly developed cluster and napalm-like munitions, using the villages of the Ukraine as a risk-free environment in which to judge the effectiveness and abilities of their weapons and newly-trained aircrews.
Starving Ukrainians were slaughtered in their thousands.
Many Red Army soldiers of Ukrainian origin were arrested and either executed quietly, or found themselves in newly formed Shtrafbats. Others were left in place and watched closely.
The GRU and NKVD in the south and east were hounded by Beria and Kuznetsov, each anxious for confirmation, and each anxious to get it before the other.
They in turn were harassed by Stalin, who reminded them of the price of failure.
Chapter 160 – THE BETRAYALS
Is it possible to succeed without any act of betrayal?
Their lovemaking had been prolonged, passionate, but controlled, as they took advantage of the extended absence of Madame Fleriot and the girls, away in Reims, visiting one of Armande’s friends.
Now almost healed, Knocke was convalescing in Nogent L’Abbesse.
Anne-Marie had insisted on taking control and doing all the physical ‘work’, citing his surgery and doctor’s orders.
Group Normandie, and therefore Camerone and Alma, was out of the line refitting as best they could, given the limited resources that were made available to the Legion.
The knocking on the front door grew more and more insistent, and Anne-Marie slipped into a robe, knowing that such a racket would probably spell bad news for one or both of them.
She opened the door and saw Jerome the butler shuffling faster than the norm, implying that either the Russians were at the gates of Paris, or there was a lack of claret in the cellar, each equally as horrendous a proposition to the old man.
“What is it, Jerome?”
“I do beg your pardon, Mademoiselle, but there is a Legion officer here. He insists on speaking with the Général immediately. Says it’s extremely important… regarding ‘La Legion’.”
He spoke the last two words with studied reverence.
“He’ll come down shortly. Show the… did he give a name, Jerome?”
“A Colonel Haffily, Mademoiselle.”
“The Général will be down soon. Show our guest into the drawing room, Jerome, and please attend to his needs. He is a personal friend.”
She closed the door and dropped her robe to the floor, moving around the room naked, collecting Knocke’s clothes.
“Ami? Where’s the fire?”
“Haefali is here, Ernst. There’s a problem with the Legion.”
“Albrecht!”
“Général Knocke.”
He made eye contact with the delectable woman.
“Mademoiselle De Valois, enchanté.”
“Colonel Haefali.”
Knocke shook Haefali’s hand and ushered him to a chair, nodding to Anne-Marie who, by previous arrangement, disappeared off to organise some light refreshment.
“Where’s the fire, Albrecht?”
“We’re losing men, Sir.”
“What? We’re out of the line… what’s happening?”
“We’re losing men. Deserting. One moment they’re in barracks, the next they’re gone… not just one or two, but dozens… they just disappear without trace.”
“They desert? My men? My soldiers?”
The idea was preposterous.
“Yes, mon Général.”
Haefali leant forward and dropped the volume of his words.
“Yesterday we found out why, mon Général.”
De Valois slid back into the room and took up a seat away from the exchange.
“It’s the damned Boche.”
Haefali suddenly realised what he had said.
“My apologies, mon Général. The men are deserting back to the German Army. There’s a new force being formed, one for the ex-SS soldiers, one that means they can fight under their own flag, not the flag of France.”
“But, they gave their oath… as legionnaires…”
Haefali shrugged.
“They are still legionnaires, but German ones now. The German Republic is forming its own German Legion.”
“How’s this happening?”
“We only found that out yesterday too. Some of the latest men to join have been encouraging the soldiers to move back to the German Army, acting as agent provocateurs. From what we understand, some of our German officers have received letters, offering positions and rank within the new force. Certainly, I’ve had sight on one received by Rolf Uhlmann”
Knocke and De Valois’ heads swivelled as one, and they stared at an envelope on the mantelpiece, an official looking letter, posted from Aachen, that had been left unopened and deliberately placed there for opening at the end of Ernst’s convalescence.
They had squabbled about it, but Anne-Marie had her way, and the letter was placed behind the picture of Capitaine Bernard Fleriot, Armande’s late husband.
Knocke nodded and the envelope was quickly recovered and slipped into his hands.
“A letter like this?”
“From Aachen?”
“Yes.”
He slipped his finger into the loose flap and split the paper.
Having read it, he passed the letter to Haefali, who consumed the words that leapt from its lines, comparing them to those lodged in his memory.
As he went to speak, Jerome arrived with coffee and sandwiches, so Haefali used the opportunity to re-read it.
As the butler left the room, he offered the document back to Knocke.
“Exactly the same, except the final offer, Mon Général.”
Knocke hummed a response and offered the letter to Anne-Marie.
She declined to read it.
“Just tell me what it says.”
“The new German Republic offers me the rank of GeneralMaior… and command of the 1st Legion Panzer Division.”
Haefali went to speak, but Knocke cut him short.
“GeneralMaior eh?”
He smiled at Anne-Marie.
“You know I must go back to the Legion, Ami. Right now.”
“Yes, Ernst, I know.”
He leant forward and took his coffee, which encouraged the others to follow suit.
“Colonel Haefali, will you be fine to travel with me in an hour?”
“Yes, mon Général.”
“We must get back and stop this flow, or we will have no Corps to command.”
“So, you’re not going back to your own, mon Général?”
Knocke’s laugh rang through the drawing room and out into the garden beyond.
“Indeed I am, Albrecht. I took an oath. I’m a legionnaire until the day I die.”
Haefali stood with Knocke, and the two exchanged handshakes.
“Legio Patria Nostra, mon General.”
“Honneur et Fidélité, Colonel Haefali.”
Churchill finished his delivery and resumed his seat, the silence deafening in its totality, the faces of those officers seated around the meeting table revealing real shock… horror… almost tangible pain.
The British Prime Minister and the American President had rehearsed this moment, the former delivering the information as eloquently as he could, the latter ready to deal with the inevitable cries and wails of military men.
Even in their wildest thoughts, the two men had not conjured up what came to pass.
Eisenhower was drained of colour, as were most of the others who had heard the incredible suggestion.