France had been next. He and his men started on the Belgian border and hadn’t stopped until Dunkirk. He had actually stood on the beach and watched as the last of the British troops literally swam to boats trying to pick them up. Dresner’s superiors had promoted him to Captain by this time and often called upon him for some of the more difficult tasks. Yet, his unit rarely experienced casualties.
Being an army officer had fit him like a glove. Over the next three years he had been assigned to various units and had been selected to lead a company in the invasion of England. He had also returned home and married the girl he had fallen in love with in college. With his earnings he purchased a home in Dresden and she had become a part of his family. Their son had been born exactly nine months from their wedding day.
But then things changed. England was called off when the “glorious” Luftwaffe failed to win control of the air. Resistance movements began to take their toll on the troops and leadership. The “invincibility” of the German people was starting to crack. He had never been a member of the party, but had reveled in Germany’s success much as everyone else had. As time passed he began to sense the pressure just to keep the status quo. Germany wasn’t going to conquer the world and there were great forces being prepared to take what they had gained away from them. His mind had understood the math. Just a few million could not hope to hold off the hundreds of millions being pressed against them. Yet all they ever heard was how invincible the nation was.
By now the bombers were crossing German skies every day. When he went home on leave, he saw whole cities and towns which were now mere shells. From his rail car he saw the people milling around carrying what few possessions they had on their backs or pushing them in carts.
The Russian Front had been a disaster. From the beginning of the campaign he had seen a change in leadership. No longer content with winning battles he saw generals being ordered around my SS colonels. Troops were being tasked with killing entire populations of a small town, or hunting down Jews and other undesirables. True, some of this had happened before, but not using regular army troops. It was like the army had forgotten how to operate. Orders were issued, countermanded, and issued again. There were shortages he had not seen before. When the first big winter storm hit, he and his men were still in their summer uniforms.
Dresner shivered slightly at that thought. Until that date, he had only lost a hand full of men. Now he watched as they began to freeze to death. After a few days with no warm clothing, he had led his men around the back of a town and attacked from the rear. By doing so he prevented the people from burning everything before they could get in. His orders had been to search each building and find as many furs and animal pelts as possible. He knew the Russians were keeping warm and this was the logical approach. Luckily they found a tanner with a storeroom full of various pelts. He and his men spent the next two days sewing together rudimentary insulated underwear to be worn under their uniforms. From then on, his men stayed relatively warm. Just a week later he had been wounded when a Russian sniper got lucky. The round had torn through his upper leg, fracturing his femur and earning him a trip home.
It had been a glorious three months. In his hospital room he had been decorated again and promoted to major. When he finally got home his family was all there. His son was growing a like a weed and got to know the father who was never home. The business was booming and his father was doing his best to make sure the war was not an everyday part of their lives. He even got to go camping for a weekend.
His new orders were to take command of a brigade of infantry in France. He was happy he was not returning to Russia but was sorry he was no longer with his former troops. Although there was now no mail coming back from the front, you couldn’t stop people from talking. On June 6, 1944, he was stationed in Northern France. Even though he was ready to take his men to the front, they had been ordered to remain where they were. From that moment on, it had been a losing battle. Despite his skills and despite his leadership, his men had been whittled down, replaced and whittled down further. By February of 1945 he and his men were fighting in Germany itself. That was when he had received word about the Dresden bombing. His whole family, the business, everything was gone.
Tears crept into Dresner’s eyes as he thought about losing his family. The news had come in a telegram and was passed along from his commanding officer. From that point, he had been in shock. It had been his top sergeant, Betz, who had noticed the shock first. After seeing the telegram, Betz took him into the local farmhouse and sat him down. He brought food, built a fire and even produced a bottle of captured American whiskey. His men kept watch over him and took care of him until finally the grief swept through him and released itself. To Dresner’s surprise his men had become his surrogate family. From that point on, they had become much closer both as friends and as a unit.
At the end, he and his men had been assigned the task of going through southern Germany and Austria to find all the secret facilities which had been built up by the various political factions and shut them down. He was also tasked with destroying any equipment or documents which might fall into the hands of the Soviets. He chucked at the thought. They hadn’t cared if the Americans got them, just not the Soviets. They had closed over 50 when they received word that Hitler was dead and ten more by the time Germany surrendered.
It was right here in Innsbruck that he surrendered his men to an American Major. Nice guy. It turned out the American was doing some of the same things he was. When it was all over, there was nothing left for him in Germany. With his hometown a mass of burned bricks and his family dead, he decided to stay in Innsbruck and make a new home. It had been the best decision he had ever made.
Dresner looked back at his desk. Since the pile hadn’t gone away as he wished, he picked up his pen and started back to work. Five minutes later there was a knock at the door. Dresner looked up from his work with a frown. He saw the counselor and looked back down at the mound of paperwork on his desk. “Herr Dietz, I have not the time to take on a new case. Please come back some other time.”
“Not this time,” Dietz said sternly.
That got Dresner’s attention. After Major Brewster, he was in no mood. He lifted his face in a mask of indignation just to have it vanish when he saw the man standing next to Dietz. He gasped slightly. “Mein Gott!” he said in a low tone as he came to his feet.
“How’s it going Herr Major?” Al Anderson said as he reached out his hand. Anderson was the American officer Dresner had surrendered to at the end of the war.
Dresner ignored the outstretch hand as he came around the desk and embraced his former captor, slapping him on the back. “It has been too long Herr Major,” he said warmly. He then invited the men to some seats and sat down next to Anderson. “What brings you to Innsbruck?”
“I’m kind of working here now. My company is building some of the Olympic venues and dormitories. I brought the family over for a little vacation at the same time,” said Anderson.
“You have heard of Anderson Construction, have you not?” asked Dietz.
Dresner’s eyes flew wide. “That is you?” he exclaimed.