“This mission is as much about learning the fate of the captain as it is about gathering intelligence on the Russians,” Voss said. It was a statement, not a question.
“It is a twofold mission, yes,” said Beck.
“Which assumes the greater priority?”
“Both,” said Hahn, with an emphasis that seemed to border on displeasure. “You must endeavor to do both.”
“Look here, Voss,” Beck said as he indicated a point on the map. The kolkhoz was situated on the southeast bank of the Samara River, over sixty-five kilometers northwest of their present position and, as Beck had mentioned earlier, fifty or so kilometers east by northeast of Pavlograd. “Notice where you will need to cross two main highways. The first is the main road that runs west from the Krasnoarmeyskoye area toward Pavlograd. The bulk of the Soviet Mechanized Corps and Tank Army are using this road further to the west and shouldn’t present too much of a problem for you this far east. Now, the next highway, further north, extends directly to the railhead at Lozovaya. This road is where you might encounter enemy patrols. So take caution. The kolkhoz is only fifteen kilometers northeast from the highway. See how the river bends…”
Voss nodded. He saw all too clearly.
“Get in as close as you can,” Beck continued, “and determine how strong a presence the Russians have. Infiltrate the village if at all possible. Captain Falkenstein and his staff were headquartered there. The locals may know something.”
“What is the strength of the formation I will be heading?” Voss asked.
Beck exchanged an uneasy glance with the colonel and spoke quietly. “I have handpicked someone from my staff to accompany you. He understands a fair amount of the language and is familiar with the Russian codes. More importantly, he’s had combat experience as a signalman with a reconnaissance platoon.”
The expression on Voss’s face betrayed his feelings of dissatisfaction, because the colonel turned on him and sharply asked, “Why so glum, Lieutenant”?
“I’m not glum, Colonel, only concerned. My unit consists of a driver, a staff sergeant, and myself. The rest of my crew is either dead or wounded.”
“It is incumbent upon us all to do much with so very little. To relinquish a vehicle and a capable officer such as yourself is not a decision taken lightly. I need every available man in the field. And this field is immense. The situation being what it is, you will have to manage, lieutenant.”
“Can I count on any assistance from Pavlograd once I’m in the area?”
Hahn shook his head vigorously. “That would be highly unlikely. Pavlograd hasn’t the forces necessary to defend itself against a full-scale attack, much less try to mount a mobile operation. The Russians cover all the few roads leading in and out of town. Any attempt to leave would be thwarted.”
Beck tried to put a better face on it. “By this time tomorrow, advance units from any number of divisions, including panzers, will be in your proximity as we continue to fall back and solidify the gaps in the defensive line.”
What a lousy mission to pull, Voss thought. Observe enemy movement for as long as fate allowed, not to mention this Falkenstein matter. The expectation of his return went far beyond a long shot. He did not want to contemplate his odds.
Beck remembered one more important item. “Your call sign is ‘Dragonfly,’ isn’t that right, Voss?”
“Yes it is.”
“Good. We will identify your transmissions by that name. On our end, specific to this operation, the designation is ‘Blue Flower.’”
“Blue Flower. I understand.”
“Any questions, Voss?”
He had scores of questions, but none he was willing to give voice to in the colonel’s presence. “No questions.”
“Good; then everything is settled,” Hahn affirmed. Voss agreed that it was and stood up. Colonel Hahn wished him luck and reiterated the importance of what he was about to embark on.
“I will do my utmost, sir.”
“As I am sure you will, lieutenant.”
Beck gathered his map and placed it into the folder and walked Voss over to where the armored personnel carrier was parked.
“I thought the Wehrmacht ascribed to the tactical philosophy of reconnaissance in force?” It was one of the questions Voss wanted to ask the colonel but lacked the nerve.
“Believe me, Voss, when I drew up this mission, it was with the understanding of a small but heavily armed unit. Assault guns were included. Apparently this was out of the question before I committed the plan to paper.”
Voss didn’t want to be patronized, and he also didn’t want to embarrass the captain, so he changed the subject. “What does Falkenstein’s unit consist of, exactly?”
“The captain’s group is small. Mostly indigenous personnel. What they lack in numbers is compensated by their ferocity and loyalty.”
“Kalmyks?”
“A few. Some Tatars and Ukrainian nationalists, I believe.”
“What has Falkenstein been up to since his departure? The last I heard, he had some involvement with Foreign Armies East.”
“Not specifically. He liaised with Gehlen’s people on occasion but that’s all. Falkenstein’s unit is…special. If he answers to anyone at this time, it is to someone on the intelligence staff at Army Group.”
“Doing what?”
“Really, Voss, I haven’t all the particulars. With any luck, God willing, you can ask Falkenstein yourself.”
The doors to the crew compartment were open. Stripped to the waist, Hartmann and Reinhardt had finished cleaning up. They had shoveled dry soil onto the deck to absorb the blood and, after sweeping it out, wiped down the siding and benches with rags dampened with gasoline. It was quite an improvement. A supply detail had then refueled the vehicle and was loading extra ammunition in the stowage lockers under the seating. Two crates were brought on; one held two panzerfausts and in the other four bell-shaped, hollow charged magnetic antitank mines. Beck had requisitioned a long-range transmitter and receiver specifically for the mission. The signal specialist was in the crew compartment, putting the final touches on the equipment’s installation. The unit was positioned directly behind the co-driver’s seat and stabilized with brackets to help minimize the bounce and shock from the vehicle’s movements. A star aerial had been erected to increase the range for both key and voice transmissions.
“That is Corporal Junger,” Beck said to Voss, and then called over to the signalman, “Nikki, say hello to Lieutenant Voss.”
The corporal stopped what he was doing long enough to salute and say, “Good day, Lieutenant.” The signalman was in his early twenties and appeared confident and almost happy with excitement.
Beck handed over the map, which detailed the kolkhoz and the surroundings where Voss would be operating. “Now remember, the Russians are well south of the agricultural settlement. What you need to be wary of are the small, scattered units strung out along the way.”
Preparations were nearly complete. Voss went to place the map in a map case stowed up front by the co-driver’s seat. Beck stopped him. “Before you go, I have one thing more. I’m trying to secure some air cover for you, should the need arise—an He129 from a tank killer squadron to remain on standby for you and your men. It isn’t much, I know, but it could come to your aid within minutes of the first sign of trouble.”
Voss could not help but wonder if the offer was legitimate or if Beck was simply trying to soothe him. “Let me know when the offer is set in stone. It would benefit the men to know for certain.”