“With that much firepower at our back, we have the advantage of operating in the area pretty much at will,” Voss said.
“For a short time only I should think, Lieutenant. Once the salient is up to strength and dug in, I believe Red Vengeance will be found trolling for small, vulnerable units to the south near the Mololchnaya River, or perhaps a little further.”
Small, vulnerable units, Voss thought, such as Reconnaissance Group Falkenstein. There were several other details to discuss before the briefing was over. The radio call sign aboard the armored personnel carrier would transmit and receive as “Sundial 251.” Falkenstein’s vehicle would remain Sundial. Upon leaving the kolkhoz, they would drive west, toward Novo-Moskovsk. Sometime in the evening, the captain expected to meet up with Josef and Andrei, who had gone to recover a store of supplies and fuel. Depending on the time and how much light was left, they would turn south and officially begin the mission. “One other item to bring to your attention, Lieutenant. I’ve replenished your crew with the same poor devils who managed to survive our quarry. They might bring us some luck.”
“Have they been informed of the mission, sir?”
“Not yet. Gottfried prepared them for your arrival, but that was all. They are all too jubilant over the retreat at the moment. I can still count on your discretion concerning the matter? Good. I will address the entire crew in due time.”
“As you wish, Captain.” Dismissed, Voss saluted and left the cottage. The command vehicle had since been parked in front, and Vogel was securing extra gear to the armored body. Water and fuel cans and miscellaneous equipment, covered with tarpaulins and shelter halves, decorated the 222, which now looked as though it belonged to some exotic caravan. Khan was with the sergeant, helping to tie the stuff down. This was the first time Voss had seen the “Mongol” up close. A red ochre–colored sash was wrapped around his waist, and a wickedly curved blade with an antler handle was tucked into it. Khan’s black hair was long and still unkempt. Although Khan did not greet his stare, Voss sensed the man knew he was being observed, critically so, and would purposely ignore Voss for as long as he kept him under watch. Khan expressed a fleeting smile and then scrambled, agilely, on to the scout car and disappeared down the turret. Vogel had made no attempt at introductions and stayed busy with his work.
Over by the Hanomag, one of the new men, a corporal, illustrated the method used to dismount from the vehicle. In full combat gear, weapon in one hand, the other resting on the top edge of the armored siding, the corporal vaulted over smoothly and landed on the ground on both feet. Flawlessly executed, but panzergrenadiers rarely left the crew compartment these days, Voss mused. The armor offered protection against small-arms fire and fragmentation from shell bursts. The high casualty rate was due in part to the vehicles being struck by armor-piercing rounds. The armored personnel carrier was never intended to withstand abuse of such magnitude. Reinhardt joined him. “We have some new faces, Lieutenant.”
“So I’ve been informed. How do they appear?”
“See for yourself. That’s Corporal Schroeder. Very enthusiastic. The corporal, a machine gunner, and a signalman were escorts with a self-propelled battery.”
“And his pupils?”
“Regular infantry. Their morale is low, according to the corporal, but he assured me he will do whatever is necessary to keep them in line.”
“Did he, now?”
Voss continued to watch as the three infantrymen were put through their paces. One grenadier, whom the corporal zealously admonished, climbed over the siding one leg at a time and took full advantage of the benches inside the crew compartment and the toolboxes fixed to the mudguard as he stepped up, out, and down.
“That’s Braun. Evidently the wit of the group,” Reinhardt said.
Voss detected the subtle pleasure Braun took in tormenting his instructor.
“That lance corporal there, Angst is his name, has already been on me about when he and his men would be returned to their battalion. He said he did not volunteer himself or his men.”
“Impertinent fellow.”
“They’re just disheartened. With the retreat on, unfamiliar faces, and a strange outfit, and no clue as to where they are going…”
Had he not known his sergeant so well, Voss could have interpreted the last statement as a hint. “I’m sure the captain will crystallize the situation for us very soon, Sergeant.” He then decided to hold an inspection. Schroeder was about to have the squad repeat the exercise when, to his chagrin, Reinhardt barked out the order to assemble. The six grenadiers lined up at attention alongside the vehicle. Hands folded behind his back, walking erect, Voss established an official demeanor and reviewed the new crew. When asked, each gave his name, rank, and unit of origin. “I am Lieutenant Erich Rainer Voss. We will all be serving the captain for an undetermined period of time. There has been some question as to when you will be returned to your respective units. Now that the retreat is in effect, we all find ourselves in circumstances that are somewhat unique. Such are the demands for the sake of expedience. When our work is completed, I will see to it that no time is wasted in returning you to your regiment, battalion, assault gun brigade, or wherever it is you belong. Until then, your only concern is to follow orders. Sergeant Reinhardt, you may take over and see that the crew gets squared away properly.”
Voss faded into the background as the sergeant had everyone gather around him, including Hartmann. “I want to say a few words about how things work around here. With the lieutenant on board, you will be in close proximity of an officer at all times. The lieutenant has an easygoing manner, and you can relax in his company most of the time. Don’t mistake this as a lack of discipline or permissiveness. If you do, you will find out just how wrong you are. With nine or ten men aboard, it’s close quarters in the crew compartment. You will have to eat, sleep, and fight from this vehicle. You will all have to behave with self-discipline, cooperation, and courtesy. Practice all three at all times, and we will get along perfectly. If you haven’t gotten used to one another yet, you had better start now; otherwise, you will have me to take into consideration. The crew is family, and the Hanomag is home. Keep that ideal uppermost in your minds. To my left, here, is Corporal Heinz Hartmann, our number one driver. Love and care for this vehicle as much as the corporal, and you will have made a friend for life. Are there any questions?”
“How fast can this battle wagon get us to the river?” Braun asked.
“Would you care to answer, Corporal Hartmann?”
“Certainly, Sergeant, but first I need to know how fast in forward or reverse?”
Braun thought for a moment, dimwittedly, to the snickering of his fellow grenadiers, before replying, “Why, forward, of course.”
“Not nearly fast enough,” Hartmann said, with a tinge of remorse.
“Any more questions?” Reinhardt asked. “No? Very well. You can start off by stowing your gear. The corporal will show you how.”
“Pardon me, Sergeant.”
“What is it…?”
“Schmidt. There’s a communion service scheduled for this morning. It’s already started. I was wondering if I might be excused so I could attend.”
Reinhardt pondered the request. “All right, Schmidt, provided you have somebody to look after your gear. Hurry back as soon as it’s over.”
“Yes, Sergeant. Thank you, Sergeant.” Schmidt removed his assault pack and set down his rifle and helmet.
“I’ll see to it, Willi,” Angst said.
“You’re Catholic, Johann. Why don’t you ask the sergeant if you can go, too?”