The Welshman’s eyes strayed to the ribbon on his fellow officer’s breast.
“Well, we Welsh are used to this of course. This will be the new Rourke’s Drift but without the singing.”
Meeting the young man’s humour with his own, the Englishman swallowed his last mouthful.
“Singing may be all we can hold them back with if the ammunition doesn’t arrive. These buggers don’t use assegais old chap.”
Not willing to be bested, Llewellyn fought back in the traditional way.
“My boys will keep quiet and let you strangle that cat, which should keep the Reds at arm’s length.”
Even though he was an English officer, Ramsey appreciated the value of Pipes to the Scottish soldier. He considered continuing but decided against it, ceding the last word to the younger man with a decidedly mischievous grin.
Both left and immediately separated, heading out to their different units as the Hamburg Council Chamber clock moved silently to 4.15.
It was nearly time.
Ramsey strode purposefully out of the main entrance deep in thought, nearly colliding with a stationary Maior Perlmann.
“I do apologise Herr Maior,” the words out of his lips even as he brought himself back upright
“Alles klar Englander,” was Perlmann’s dismissive response, distracted as he was. The British officer looked at the inscription above the door that had held the paratrooper’s attention so much he had not noticed Ramsey’s impending arrival.
Perlmann weighed up his British counterpart.
“Do you know what it is saying Herr Maior?”
“I’m afraid your ability with my language is far better than mine with yours Major Perlmann. If you please?”
The paratrooper tugged his camouflaged jacket formally, ensuring it was properly in place before he spoke.
“I was born in this city so I am lived with the knowledge of this words since I can remember.”
Ramsey remained quiet, aware that the German was strangely emotional.
“I have just fight a war, a loosed war, and during those six bloody years I never really knew this words, and what they mean, until today.”
Perlmann coughed gently, more to buy him a moment to compose himself than for any other reason.
“It says ‘May the descendants look to maintain the freedom that was winned by our fathers.’”
Ramsey nodded in understanding, drawing out more from the German.
“How is it that I never knew what this words mean until today,….this hour,….this minute?”
Considering his words carefully, the British Major spoke softly and with feeling.
“In truth Herr Maior, I suspect that when you fought for the Nazi cause you didn’t understand the words because they had no meaning,” emphasising the word ‘had’ brought the point home, “Whereas now that meaning is crystal clear and very real for you and all Germans is it not?”
Perlmann considered the words for a few moments, his face screwed up in thought, frowning as he worked it through.
An onlooker would easily have imagined the men as enemies, both by posture and atmosphere.
“Do not think for any moment that most of we Germans fought for anything but our country Herr Ramsey.”
The tension mounted in seconds.
“Do not think that you are the only ones having honour, the only ones fighting for freedoms for six years.”
Ramsey found his body gently buzzing as the presence of threat transformed him.
Perlmann took a half step closer, bringing the men to within arms reach of each other.
“Do not think for a first second that I do not hate you Herr Maior, that I do not remember those you killed and do not remember the places of my youth you army destroyed.”
Ramsey’s eyes narrowed but he held his tongue, conscious of but not seeing the additional gathering presence of soldiers, German and British alike.
The paratrooper officer was breathing hard.
“I hate all of you but today I fight side to you because I hate the communists more and I am ordered by my Government.”
“Just remember that for when we have kick the red bastards back to the Urals, Herr Maior, just remember that.”
Whilst none of the Welch present understood the language, none of them was ignorant of what was being said by the big German as his demeanour and tone carried all he intended. The paratroopers understood only too well.
Weapons were held with less relaxation, and eyes warily scanned for the first hint of action.
Perlmann and Ramsey suddenly realised they had created a situation where a mix of their troops now stood at close quarters, eyeing their former enemies with suspicion and anger.
A few murmurs from the spectators seemed to awaken something in both officers.
The gap between them widened perceptibly.
Perlmann was a professional soldier and a damn fine officer and demonstrated it.
“You are right of course Herr Maior, I apologise.” the tone of the words were as important as the words themselves and his softer voice immediately had an effect on all present.
“The meaning ist klar for us Germans and today we will show that we understand this words,” he cast a hand at the doorway, drawing a number of people’s attention to the improbable cause of the confrontation.
He relaxed slowly into a smile that did not look totally forced.
Unclipping the famous Fallschirmjager helmet from his belt, he placed it firmly on his head and tightened the strap.
“Now, I go prepare my unit.”
Extending his hand, he took hold of Ramsey’s. Both men gripped firmly for their own different reasons.
“You and I fight in the Reichswald as enemies. Now, in mein home city, we fight together as Allies ja?”
All Ramsey could suddenly see were nine fresh graves filled with his young Scots. Unconsciously, his grip tightened as the anger washed over him again and then disappeared as quickly as it had come.
The momentary change had not been lost on Perlmann.
“Major, we all lost good man in that place. I write words to the parent and sweetheart of thirty of my boy once we out of there. And for what?”
The hands drifted apart, almost reluctantly, remaining hovering in the limbo between handshake and lying at ease.
Ramsey cleared his throat with a low rumbling cough, inadvertently permitting Perlmann to continue.
“We fight alongside as each other as Kameraden today. I wish you and your man luck,” the German Maior extended his hand picking out a single word from the inscription and waving his finger at it, “And let us all make sure that all our fathers is proud of what we do here today.”
Ramsey smiled ruefully as he watched the disappearing figure lead his small escort away, hopping from cover to cover now he was out in the open and away from safety.
He spoke softly, saying only “Good luck”, finding himself sincere in thought but never being more certain that he would not see someone alive again.
Llewellyn Force did not have a huge remit. The only requirement of it was to stand and fight. In the event that withdrawal became absolutely necessary then there was only one reliable exit point, that being the AdolphesBrücke between the Alter and Neuer Wall.
Charges had already been laid on it and it was not to fall into enemy hands intact.
Much of the area they defended had been ravaged by allied bombing over the previous years. Some structures were partially collapsed, offering the godsend of the rubble protection from which to fight. Some damaged buildings seemed more precarious, and the defence of those less hardy structures was of great concern to those positioned in them. Amazingly, the Rathaus had withstood all the RAF and USAAF had thrown at it relatively unscathed.
The StadthausBrücke to the south-west was the border of their zone, and most of it had been long since dropped into the water.