Using his hand in the universal sign language of the soldier, he swiftly instructed them that the hotel was left at the junction and then down the street approximately one hundred and fifty yards on the right-hand side. Of course, they calculated in metres.
They stepped away from the dividing fence and huddled close.
A lighter flicked on quickly, reading a watch in the blink of an eye.
“It’s 0229 now. If we walk slowly we should be able to time our arrival with Hub’s display.”
“Walk in pairs, one pair in front by a few yards, the Maior and me first, you two second. I will talk in English, you,” he indicated Braun, “Do so too. Nothing funny that needs him to laugh, just a story about a girl back home or something.”
There was sufficient light for Schwartz to see understanding and compliant nods.
“When Hub does his bit, we improvise and get inside the hotel, and improvise some more to get to the General. Good luck to you and may god help us tonight.”
Standing straight, he turned to go back into the street and stopped himself.
“Remember, nothing funny, and no hurting any American soldiers,” as he patted his carbine.
Some whispered assurances and he stepped out into the lane again, closely followed by Rolf and the other pair.
As they strolled into the centre of Enns, the American lit two cigarettes and handed one to Rolf, starting up a conversation about a bland young woman called Emmy-Lou who was his sweetheart back in the States.
Rolf was aware of a mumbled conversation from behind as Braun similarly started into some tale of the heart.
The first pair arrived at the corner of HauptPlatz and WienerStraße, and turned left. Schwartz casually acknowledged a pair of American infantrymen stood next to a buttoned-up 6x6 truck to the right of the junction in the main square proper. No doubt the rest of the squad was asleep in the back of the vehicle.
Uhlmann was both relieved and affronted by the lack of professionalism in the soldiers. It would do for them now, but not in the days to come, he concluded.
As Schwartz rambled on further, both pairs turned their eyes to the scene that confronted them.
Outside of the Hotel Lauriacum was a whole lot of trouble.
Eight Military Policemen, looking very alert and undoubtedly more prepared to be interactive than the sleepy infantry by the truck.
An M8 Greyhound armoured car, behind which sat two M20 utility cars. The M8 had crew aboard for sure, a soldier leant idly on the .50 calibre turret MG as he chatted with someone inside the vehicle.
A Plymouth R11 staff car and a Dodge Radio truck were parked up nearest the walking men, but the ensemble was completed by an M24 Chafee tank parked quietly and menacingly further on down, near the next junction past the hotel.
Some simple electric lights were being fed from a US Army generator, ensuring the front of the hotel was bathed in a sodium yellow glow.
Schwartz halted and turned to the following pair, beckoning them closer.
As he asked Braun loudly for a cigarette, he managed to whisper that they had arrived early and needed to delay.
Carefully moving round the group, Schwartz ended up facing the hotel with Shandruk, Braun, and Uhlmann both being in the uncomfortable position of not being able to see what was going on behind them.
As the Americans mock laugh was mirrored by Braun, the night suddenly became day as a magnesium flare went skyward. In short order another followed, then another, the group imagining the one-armed Austrian working hard to load and fire the weapon as quickly as possible.
Rolf indicated with a jerky head movement towards the soldiers in the HauptPlatz. The tarpaulin at the back of the lorry had been thrown open and sleepy eyed GI’s were slowly dropping out, unsure of what to do next.
In a flash, the way forward became clear.
Schwartz slapped Braun on the shoulder.
“You take command of those boys there and send them down to the river to investigate. Slip away and hide up in the garden where we talked a’whiles back. Good luck.”
Slapping Braun on the shoulder, he started shouting orders to the same effect in English, gesticulating dramatically, emphasising the urgency of his instructions to his intended audience, the watching MP’s.
He turned and strode purposefully towards the hotel, picking out the young MP Officer who was already moving to intercept him.
“Name, Lieutenant?” he asked, not brooking any argument.
“Athabaster sir. I’m afraid you cannot proceed further sir.” Even though he was young and inexperienced, his confidence rose as two of his MP’s stepped in behind him, M3A1 sub-machine guns held in a business like fashion.
“As you were, soldiers,” Schwartz barked at the two MP’s, as young and inexperienced as their officer.
“Kill those lights and wake up that damn tank crew. Get them turning over Lieutenant, and then get these vehicle weapons manned and ready in case the Fourth Reich has awoken or Ivan has come a’knocking.” He looked back at the radio truck and pointed.
“And I want that radio warmed up ready to sing for help if this is not just a fuck up. Clear Lieutenant?”
Athabaster was clearly confused, faced with clear instructions from a senior officer, balanced against standing policy to maintain the cordon around his general.
He nodded and started to speak but was ridden over hard.
“I assume you have a detail at the rear?”
“Yes sir. Sir….”
The confused MP was immediately cut off again.
“I will be back in three minutes. Give me these two men,” he indicated the clearly perturbed pair whose M3’s were now pointing aimlessly at the pavement as their confusion grew.
“I will organise the rear and then come back. No one is permitted inside until this alert is ended. When I find out which sonofabitch is responsible for this I will have his balls, if the General doesn’t have them first!”
He strode into the foyer of the hotel, with the two MP’s in close attendance, Rolf ensuring he stayed close.
Of course, he had understood hardly a word but he had definitely understood that he had just witnessed a first class piece of bullying and bullshit.
Fortuitously, the Sergeant in charge at the rear of the Hotel was catching some shuteye, so when Schwartz noisily arrived in his life there was no room for manoeuvre, and he was immediately compliant. Reinforced with the two MP’s that had accompanied this extremely loud and aggressive Major, he set about ensuring that the hotel rear entrance could not be stormed by anything less than a battalion of infantry, hoping his efficiency might save him from the Major’s wrath.
Schwartz and Uhlmann returned to the foyer and spoke briefly with the night manager, who could see no reason not to tell two American officers which room contained the General.
The two strode purposefully up the stairs and arrived at the floor where the General peacefully slumbered, or at least had peacefully slumbered before a one-armed Austrian had started filling the sky with noisy magnesium light. An extremely loud US Army officer then shouted the neighbourhood awake and the cacophony was completed when the tank’s engine burst into life.
A door with two alert sentries marked the threshold of success and they strode towards it, both wondering how it could have been so easy.
The two sentries stiffened, ready to challenge.
Schwartz and Uhlmann tensed, ready to bluster once more.
A door opened and out stepped a bleary-eyed Staff Colonel. Both Uhlmann and Schwartz stopped dead. Neither had ever seen an army officer in pyjamas with rank markings before. If the situation had not been so serious, it would have been comical, especially as they both noticed the night mask pushed up on the forehead and red satin slippers that completed the apparition before them.
Schwartz took an educated guess based on recent scuttlebutt, and got it right.