“For what purpose?”
“To inquire if any forward patrols will be operating east of the salient and, should the need arise, if any reinforcements would be forthcoming.”
“That won’t be necessary. I’ve ordered Sergeant Vogel to raise Fortieth Panzer Corps and inform them of our whereabouts and to relay any intelligence on enemy troop movements in the area thus far.”
“Yes, sir, but it is my opinion that it would be more expeditious to raise my battalion, rather than attempt to explain our situation to an unknown entity at Corps.”
“I see your point, but once we have made ourselves clear, Corps will have a greater understanding of the larger picture than your meager battalion, Voss.”
“They know me. Every effort will be made…”
“The transmission to Corps will be the last. All signal activity will consist of monitoring enemy broadcasts and local communications among ourselves. Henceforth radio silence will be maintained with the outside. Is that understood, Lieutenant?”
“Perfectly, sir.” The door to the storeroom closed. Voss could hear the cot groan under the exhausted weight placed upon it, followed by the sound of a boot as it fell to the floor. He wanted to argue the precarious situation the captain had placed them all in, as if he could influence the man’s will any more than he could alter a force of nature. Voices at the front of the house indicated Reinhardt’s arrival. Voss returned to the foyer where Monika, Elenya and Valeria waited expectantly.
“You wanted to see me, Lieutenant?” Reinhardt asked.
“What progress is being made?”
Reinhardt proceeded to give a rundown. Wilms was already established on the water tower, and the radio check was completed. The signalman was a little nervous about exposure to possible snipers. Schroeder and Detwiler, along with four stragglers, were currently fortifying the workers settlement. “An emergency air raid bunker was discovered behind the administration building. There’s a medical orderly among that bunch of ‘tag-alongs’ from last night. I had most of the first aid gear transferred over to the bunker. It appears to be the best location for an aid station.”
“That’s first rate, Sergeant.”
“The orderly is…how should I put it…” and Reinhardt tapped the side of his head with a finger.
“Then he is in good company.”
“And there is something else.” Reinhardt opened the front door and stepped out. Voss followed, and the women crowded around the doorway to see. On the steps of the front stoop, one of the Ukrainian auxiliaries sat with his head in his hands. He looked up for a moment; his expression was one of sheer wretchedness. Flecks of dried vomit clung to his chin. He turned and forlornly supported his head once again.
“He hasn’t fully recovered. All I’ve gotten out of him so far is his name, Yvgeney, and that he passed out dead drunk somewhere.”
“He will be in for something of a shock as soon as he realizes his comrades have left without him.”
“That he’s already aware of. What should I do with him?”
“After he sobers up, he can tear down that gallows and bury the dead. That should keep him busy and out of our way.” Voss nudged the auxiliary with a toe. “Don’t you dare enter this house for any reason whatsoever. Captain’s quarters. Roh-zoo-meetih?”
With a slight wave of his hand, the Ukrainian indicated that he had understood. “Now, as to why I have summoned you, Sergeant. I want you to accompany these ladies in a search for more food.”
Reinhardt smiled in a lopsided manner. “So they told me.”
“Make them do the work,” Voss said with unusual seriousness, “and don’t let them out of your sight.”
Reinhardt suggested they search the houses near the square and work their way toward the settlement. He slung the MP40 by its strap across his shoulder and followed the women down the street.
The side hatch to the command vehicle was open. Vogel sat in the co-driver’s seat, wearing headphones, and tapped out a message on the radio key. He shook his head when Voss approached him. “No luck yet with Corps, Lieutenant.”
“Keep trying. When you receive a response, give it to me. The captain is resting, and I don’t want him to be disturbed.” He walked across the square to where the Hanomag was parked close beside the assembly hall. Hartmann sat at the radio as well, an earphone to one ear, carefully turning the dial. He nodded to the lieutenant as he sat down in the driver’s seat. “Anything of interest?”
Hartmann lowered the earphones. “Some chatter. Ours. Units reporting in along the salient.”
“Any familiar call signs?” Voss asked.
“Not from our people, although I had the urge to try and raise Meckler.” Hartmann was referring to the signalman at battalion headquarters.
“Don’t tempt yourself. The captain has issued strict orders for radio silence.”
“I got the word from Vogel. I reckon the Sixteenth has dug in by now. I’m glad for them. Maybe I can’t be there with them, but it’s good they’re settling in, you know, Lieutenant.”
Voss did not answer. He was in no mood to sulk over their separation from the division. There were other matters on his mind, so he changed the subject. “Has Ivan had anything to say?”
“Not a word. If the Russians are nearby, they’re keeping unusually quiet.”
That is good news, Voss thought, because the Russians have not been quiet of late when on the move. “Keep at it, Heinz. I’m going to have a look around.” After he had left the vehicle, Voss circled around to the rear of the administration building. The brick facade still remained upright, but the interior was completely gutted by fire. Sixty meters north of the site was a flak gun emplacement, stripped of hardware and empty. He made a mental note to have a machine gun set up there. The entrance to the air raid bunker was but a short run from the administration building. Sandbagged and well-timbered, the grade sloped down acutely to the narrow opening. Voss ducked under the lintel as he entered. A small paraffin lantern hung from a peg on a support beam, the small flame casting a dull light. In size the bunker was no larger than a rifle squad dugout and could hold the same number of men. The earthen walls had been excavated in places to form a long, narrow shelf, with a banquette effect, for either sitting or lying. There were a couple of wood benches with first aid kits, field dressings, medicines, and basic instruments laid out neatly. A man stared out at Voss from the gloom. “You must be the medical orderly,” Voss said.
“Yes, Matthias Bruno.”
Voss introduced himself. “We are fortunate to have you.”
“Don’t get your hopes up about the quality of my skills. I’ve applied a bandage or two and dug out a few shell splinters on occasion, but mainly I’m a stretcher-bearer. Under fire.”
“Whatever you can provide will be a help. It’s not necessary that you remain down here. There is no call for your services yet.”
“There will be soon, I’m sure. Besides, I’ve grown fond of holes. Dugouts, slit trenches, bunkers, cellars, tunnels, and even a sewer. I’ve been living underground in one form or another for years.”
“As you wish.”
“Like a mole,” Bruno said.
“I don’t follow.” Voss was puzzled.
“That’s how I live, how we all live, like moles. If I make it back home, I don’t think I could cope living above ground in a proper house ever again. A typical parlor or bedroom has become like an uncharted region. One would have to be armed with a spirit of adventure to enter. I will have to dig myself a deep, sturdy hole and furnish it simply with the barest necessities.”
“Perhaps when all this is over, you will feel differently.”