They’d turned and were back where they’d started. Winnie took his hand and again shook it firmly. “I’ll be seeing you again shortly. In the meantime, why don’t you use some of the money you’ve been given and get a car? You can then travel along the border and the neighboring towns to acclimate yourself. When I come back, we’ll rent a boat and go fishing or something. Do you like to fish?”
“Not really.”
“I don’t either,” she said. “I suppose we’ll have to pretend, though. Maybe we can just throw lines in the lake and pretend.”
“Where will you be going?”
“Don’t ask.”
* * *
Lena’s thought was that the Schneiders would be looking for her in the south and west. That is, if they looked for her at all. Thus, she initially headed north and east to throw them off her trail. Even though many refugees were using the roads and even though she was armed, she avoided groups. Sometimes she walked with them, but never as part of them. She didn’t want to make friends, and she didn’t want to draw attention to herself.
The refugees came in all shapes and sizes. Almost all were displaced Germans. They’d been uprooted by fear of the oncoming Russians and they were fleeing Stalin’s vengeance-seeking hordes. They were terrified and their goal was to somehow make it to the American or British lines. Murder and rape awaited them if they stayed still.
The displaced Germans all appeared stunned by the terrible turn the war had taken. Not only had their cities been bombed to ashes, but even those who lived in the country had seen their comfortable homesteads devastated. Now they were reduced to carrying their belongings on their backs or pushing them in carts. Few had cars since there was very little gas. The relatively lucky ones had carts pulled by gaunt horses. She even saw carts being pulled by large dogs. She had no sympathy for them. They had brought Hitler to power and cheered when he invaded and plundered country after country, including her beloved Czechoslovakia. Let them suffer. She didn’t want them to die, just suffer as she had and learn.
Other groups were spotted and feared like feral dogs. These were displaced persons from other countries and prison camp inmates who’d somehow escaped from the concentration camps or prisons. They wanted revenge, just like the Red Army. They too looted, raped and murdered. Sometimes they burned homes just for the sheer joy of doing it to a German. When they were seen, the refugees either hid or formed protective circles. Each time, Lena clutched her pistol tightly, although she did not let anyone see it. Germany, she concluded, was descending into madness.
There was a group of nuns-Dominicans, she thought-travelling as a cluster. She wondered what the women in their long black habits were thinking. She envied them the fact that they had companions who would support each other. Lena did not miss the Schneiders, not for one minute, but she did wish she had someone in whom she could confide. She was lonely. She had used up most of her food and she had to sleep on the ground with the pistol close by. She had come to realize that no one was looking specifically for her. However, there was always the possibility of an SS or Gestapo sweep. These were generally used to capture deserters and she’d seen several instances where men had been hanged from telephone poles with signs saying “Deserter,” or “Enemy of the Reich” attached to their chests. If they checked her identification too closely, it might not hold up. Avoiding the sweeps became a priority, but how?
She used the nuns as a beacon, an anchor. She never approached them or talked to them, but she always kept them in sight. The refugee swarm constantly changed, but the nuns were always there. One heavyset sister appeared to be their leader. She seemed to have noticed Lena although there was no hint of recognition or friendship.
Night came and Lena tried to make herself as comfortable as possible on the ground. One of her folded-up empty supply bags served as a pillow; the pistol was in her belt. She closed her eyes and fell into an exhausted sleep. When she awoke, it was daylight and the encampment was starting to stir. She suddenly felt almost physically ill. The Luger was gone.
She sat up and looked around wildly. The heavyset nun was seated on a piece of wood a few feet away. “Are you missing something?”
CHAPTER 6
The artillery barrage began an hour before dawn. Targets had been pre-sighted and shells rained down on what intelligence said were German strongpoints. Since he had provided much of the information, Tanner fervently hoped his data was accurate.
As the shelling increased in intensity, columns of DUKWs moved towards the Rhine. He was in the lead vehicle with Sergeant Hill. “Y’know, Captain, for someone who’s not supposed to get his feet wet, you do spend a lot of time in little boats.”
“Go to hell, Sergeant, and this is a floating truck, not a boat.”
Hill chuckled and the two men looked towards the other side of the Rhine. It was obscured by smoke and fire. Overhead, bombers dumped their loads and the shock waves rippled back over them. Could anyone be alive in that horror, he wondered, but everyone knew that they would be. The Germans had proven their resilience. They would have to be rooted out.
At a signal, the amphibious vehicles rumbled forward with each carrying a squad of infantry. The DUKW was a marvel. Built on a GM truck chassis, it could travel by road and then over water simply by throwing a switch. Or at least that was the way it looked to Tanner. He clutched his M1 carbine to his chest. It had been converted to fire full automatic. Hill carried a Thompson submachine gun, his weapon of choice. Captain Cullen would land in a later wave. He did not appear disappointed at crossing later.
The little craft plowed into the water and began the crossing. The shelling and bombing had ceased. “Now we’ll find out what we’re up against,” Hill muttered.
Machine-gun fire began to come from hidden German positions, kicking up splashes around the boats. The Wehrmacht were alive and nasty. Tanner wondered just how much damage the barrage and bombing had actually done. There had been discussions about the pre-landing bombardments. Should they be short or even nonexistent in order to surprise the Nazis? Or should they be lengthy, which would tip off the Germans that an attack was imminent? A compromise was reached. The barrage would be for two hours. Tanner did not like compromises, especially when lives were at stake.
Bullets rattled against their craft’s hull and everyone ducked down and tried to make themselves invisible. Men in the craft groaned and someone threw up. That caused others to puke as well. Tanner thought he smelled urine. He checked and was relieved that it wasn’t him.
He forced himself to again look over the side. Land was only a few yards away. They’d made it across, he exulted.
No. A German shell exploded by the DUKW, tipping it over and throwing everyone into the water. Tanner gasped. The water was near freezing and the current was strong. He wanted to scream as icy river grabbed at his testicles. He found that he could stand up and began wading towards the riverbank and safety, fighting the current that wanted to sweep him away. Something bumped up against him. It was the soldier who’d been driving the DUKW. A shell fragment had ripped his chest open and water was flowing in. Other bodies bobbed around him.