“That is because the old ones could not travel,” Columba had said. “We left them behind with our prayers. And I told the others not to speak to you,” Columba admitted one evening. “The less they know, the less they can tell anyone. Right now I believe we are safe from the Gestapo or the SS, but that could change in a heartbeat. If the Americans show any sign of weakness, the Reich will emerge again.”
And where were the Americans? Rumors had them everywhere. The latest said they were a few miles to the north and heading towards Stuttgart. Her column of refugees was moving slowly because they had to bypass the mountains. American planes continued to fly overhead and some of them flew so low that they could see the pilots’ faces. What were they thinking? she wondered. Much of an entire nation was on the move, fleeing from the terrors of defeat and the vengeance of those who had been oppressed.
Travelling in large groups meant safety. Too often they had come on the naked, mutilated and desecrated corpses of those who thought they could go it alone or in small groups. Former inmates recently freed from concentration camps were delighted at the opportunities to take vengeance on those who’d persecuted and imprisoned them. Who could blame them? she thought. Some of those former inmates she’d seen were starving and wide-eyed with anger and pain. They wanted food and there hadn’t been enough for their German overlords. They’d been kept in vile living conditions for years where they’d been beaten, starved, and many of their friends and loved ones murdered. She found herself wondering what had happened to her father. It was a painful window on her past that she tried to keep closed. But now that the end appeared near, thoughts of her past were coming back. Perhaps the Germans kept good records of those they imprisoned. She thought that he had been sent to Dachau, but she wasn’t certain. The Americans had overrun the infamous concentration camp, so someday she might be able to go there and find out his fate. But not now. It was too dangerous.
Later that night there were howls and screams. She pulled out her pistol and tried to see in the darkness. There was commotion to her left, followed by gunshots. Either the criminals were armed or other civilians had had the foresight to arm themselves.
“Don’t even think of trying to help,” Sister Columba said as she grabbed Lena’s arm. “There’s only one of you and God only knows how many of them, whoever they are. Stay here and protect yourself and us.”
Lena agreed and spent the rest of the night with her pistol on her lap. The world had gone to hell.
* * *
George Schafer and Bud Sibre flew their P51s deep into the Alps. It was a clear day and the sun reflected off the remnants of the past winter’s snow. It was not a comfortable feeling. They were supposed to be looking down on mountains, not looking up at them. Granted, their P51 Mustangs could climb to more than forty thousand feet, and granted that most of the mountains in the Alps were well under fifteen thousand feet, they still had to fly low to see potential targets. The tree line above which trees didn’t grow was about seven thousand feet.
They didn’t want to miss out on any more opportunities. Only a couple of days before, intelligence had let them know that the convoy of ambulances they’d ignored probably contained Josef Goebbels and his wife Magda along with their brood of kids. Just how the intelligence guys figured this out, Schafer and Sibre didn’t know. Either they were really good at their work or they had secret sources. The two pilots only understood that they’d blown a good chance to shorten the war. Reports said there were a number of other ambulances headed south towards the Alps. Who or what were they carrying?
They would not make the same mistake again. Any ambulance, school bus, or hearse would be shot to shreds. They’d taken too much teasing about missing out on Goebbels and not all of it was funny. They’d been accused of lengthening the war because of their squeamishness and there’d been a couple of skirmishes that calmer heads had broken up.
They’d mentioned their intentions to their commanding officer and he’d shaken his head. “Ambulances are off limits. You will not shoot at them unless they shoot at you first. Think about it, guys. Even if you had killed Goebbels, would that have ended the war or would the Krauts simply pick someone else to be their new Fuhrer? And if you did manage to kill an ambulance full of school kids, how would you really feel about that?”
They agreed that the major was correct. They would take the criticism. But they didn’t have to like it.
“Jesus, Bud. If someone’s hiding an army down there, they are doing a great job of it.”
The craggy tops of mountains seemed to dare them to make a mistake. Already, several planes had flown into the mountains, exploding violently and doing nothing to harm the mountains. Just how the pilots had gotten disoriented was a puzzle. But both men knew that only a second’s loss of concentration could result in sudden flaming death.
The lower portions of the mountains below seven thousand feet were heavily forested and had lost most of their snow covering. This was too bad. In the snow they might have been able to follow the tracks made by German trucks and tanks. As the mountains got higher and closer together it became obvious that no vehicles of any kind would be travelling near them.
“Are we anywhere near Switzerland?” asked Bud. “I wouldn’t want to piss off those nice neutral assholes by flying over their country.”
“I’m not too certain where we are. If you ask me, one mountain looks just like another. Look on the bright side. We absolutely do not have to worry about the Luftwaffe.”
The fact that the Luftwaffe had almost totally disappeared was one reason why they were flying as a pair and not as a larger force. Even if the Germans had planes, there were no airbases for them nor gas to fuel them. Now there were numbers of pairs of American warplanes out scouting for German ground forces. The mountains interfered with radio communication, which was another cause for concern. Should something happen to them, it might be a long time, if ever, before someone found them.
“I think we should turn around,” said George. “There may be people down there but there sure as hell isn’t an army.”
A short while later as they left the highest mountains, they were rocked by explosions shockingly close to them. “Where the hell is that coming from?” George yelled. A second shell from a hidden German antiaircraft battery sent shrapnel rattling against their planes.
“Aw Christ, I’m hit and I’m losing oil,” said Bud. “I might have to bail out.”
“Are you hurt?”
“No. I’m fine but the plane isn’t.”
There was no thought of trying to locate the German guns. Bud’s survival was paramount. George flew underneath his wingmate and examined the wounded P51. Oil was leaking and making ugly streaks on the belly of the plane.
“Okay, Bud. We are going to head north and try to find a place for you to land. It’s about a hundred miles to our base, so I don’t think you’re gonna make it all the way. Unless we can find you a good spot to land, you’re gonna have to jump. How many times have you made a parachute jump?”
“This’ll be my first and you know it, smartass. And it’ll damn well be my last. I mean if I survive it, it’ll be my last.”
“You better survive, Bud. You owe me money.”
CHAPTER 7
The rifle shot came from a clump of evergreens a hundred yards down the road. Tanner and Hill ducked while their driver swerved the jeep and tried to keep from crashing. Someone was screaming in pain. At least it isn’t me, Tanner thought. Hill and Tanner got the men out of their jeeps. The machine guns mounted on them opened fire and began to chew up the trees. Individual American soldiers began firing their M1s in the general direction of the forest.