Devils with Wings Read online

  Today, they were finally going to be taken into the confidence of Hauptman Kaufmann, Oberleutnant Faust and ultimately the German High Command.

  Today, they were going to Karlshorst in East Berlin, to the Sapper school, where they were to receive a second lesson in Fortress construction, the first lesson being prior to their visit to the Benes line in Czechoslovakia, just before Christmas. They were also going to experience hands on exposure to explosives handling.

  Apart from Oberleutnant Faust and Leutnant Brand, Group Granite was still not party to the true identity of the target they were to attack.

  The unit struggled to put their training activities into perspective at times, piecing together the relevance of each activity presented to them.

  At least on this day they would be shown one of the Army’s secrets, the new wonder weapon. A weapon they were told, that would overcome their concerns about tackling the thick steel doors blocking the entrances to the bunkers, the concrete embrasures, the armoured turrets and observation cupola’s.

  “Are you ready Max?” questioned Paul.

  “Yes sir,” responded Max, “I’ve always wanted a career in construction. Had I known I was going to be an airfield construction engineer, then train to be a builder, I would have gone straight from the docks to Holzmann’s.” Philipp Holzmann AG, being a German construction company based in Frankfurt.

  “You could always put it to good use when you leave the Fallschirmjager Max,” said Paul with a smile.

  “A future without the Fallschirmjager sir?!” Max retorted in mock surprise.

  “Come on Unterfeldwebel, let’s get moving before you have me in tears.”

  Max called out to the platoon, to embark on the two trucks that had just appeared to collect them.

  “Let’s be having you,” he commanded, “troops one and two to truck one and three and four you’ve got truck two,” he directed.

  The paratroopers, stamping their feet and flapping their arms about them to keep warm, started to move towards the trucks. The clouds of frozen respiration, hanging in the air.

  They climbed aboard their respective vehicles, huddling together on the benches to benefit from the additional warmth of each other, the driver then securing the rear canvas flaps, as per his instructions. Security was still paramount and the movement of troops in and out of the camp was very much kept under wraps.

  Paul and Max claimed the passenger seats in the cabs; it was their unwritten right, secretly pleased that they would have the benefit of the cab’s heater. But, even that was struggling to maintain a decent temperature inside the cab, it being so cold outside.

  There was some sympathy for the troopers in the back of the unheated cargo area, but it didn’t last for long.

  Character building, thought Max to himself.

  Paul was soon engulfed in the warmth of the cab, now that both doors were shut, and asked the driver, “How long to Karlshorst?”

  The young Luftwaffe driver, quite small and skinny, probably not much older than eighteen, who didn’t even look as if he had started shaving yet, turned to Paul, his thick spectacles, one of the arms taped together, in an obvious temporary repair.

  “About an hour sir.”

  The platoon had travelled up the previous day from Hildesheim and had stayed overnight at Schonefeld airport.

  “Wake me when we are about ten minutes away,” instructed Paul

  “Yes sir,” confirmed the Luftwaffe driver, snatching peeks at his passenger, wondering whom these tough looking Luftwaffe soldiers were who had suddenly descended on his camp. They certainly didn’t look like normal Luftwaffe airmen or soldiers. Especially that mammoth one of an Unterfeldwebel, who made him jump every time he opened his mouth.

  He thought no more of it. He had specifically been told not to ask any questions and to keep any questions he might have to himself.

  He put the troop carrier into gear, let out the clutch and pulled forward slowly towards the open gate, checking his wing mirrors to confirm that the second vehicle was following.

  Paul felt his arm being shaken, and he awoke with the right side of his face cold having been pressed up against the side window of the cab.

  He felt stiff and his arm ached where he had slept on it, his right arm having been trapped under his neck, where he had been using it to support his head while in a deep sleep.

  They arrived at the Karlshorst camp, passing the monolithic, two storey main building and were driven around to the rear of the depot.

  After showing his pass to the guard, they were quickly driven through the rear camp gates without any further interference.

  They were obviously expected, and nothing so far had interfered with their progress.

  A Major met them and the platoon decamped from their vehicles, accompanying him to what looked like an external training area.

  Following him into a small, standalone building, where the proverbial wood-burning stove was throwing out as much heat as it was able.

  The men made for it eagerly and congregated around its heat. It had been a cold journey in the back of the canvas covered wagons.

  The Major approached Paul and introduced himself and shook his hand.

  “I’m Major Miller,” he said and then turned towards two NCOs who had just entered the building, followed by two sappers bringing in an urn of coffee and kuchen, cakes, a welcome sight for the frozen Fallschirmjager, who immediately congregated around the perceived feast.

  “And this is Feldwebel Rhodes and Feldwebel Scholz,” he continued.

  They both saluted the Major, but not Paul, his rank not obvious to them.

  “This is Leutnant uh,” he hesitated, not having a name to give them, “from an airfield construction platoon based in Hildesheim,” they then both saluted, and Paul returned it.

  “It is he and his men who you will be instructing today.”

  He turned back to Paul, “Both Feldwebels are explosives experts and have used most of their talents in anger in Poland. I don’t know what you gentlemen are up to, or even who you are, but I have been instructed, from the highest levels, to offer you every assistance, particularly in the handling of explosives.”

  “Thank you Herr Major, I appreciate any assistance you can give us.”

  He looked at Paul, who like the rest of his platoon, wore no unit insignia or titles or badges of rank. But he did notice Paul’s Iron Cross Second Class and his combat badge, he and some other members of his unit had evidently seen combat. But he had been given specific instructions to give them any assistance they may require, and was not only left in no doubt as to the consequences of not providing them with the necessary support, but also the consequences of discussing their presence on the camp with anyone.

  He turned to the two Feldwebels, “I shall leave them in your capable hands, should you need anything then contact me immediately.”

  The two Feldwebels drew themselves up into a position of attention and saluted the Major, as did Paul, and responded, “Jawohl Herr Major.”

  The Major turned on his heel and then left.

  Paul and Max walked up to the two NCOs, shook their hands and introduced themselves as Paul and Max.

  The two Felds had no idea who they were, but Paul had the presence of an officer, and the stocky Max certainly carried himself like an NCO.

  “We are in your capable hands gentlemen, how do you propose to conduct the day?”

  “We’d like to split your unit into two, sir,” replied Feldwebel Scholz, “one section being instructed on conventional explosives and the second section will be shown the hollow charge weapon.”

  “Right let’s get on with it then, over to you Max.”

  Max split the unit into two groups, the first group headed off with Feldwebel Scholz to look at conventional explosives; the second group went with Rhodes to look at the new weapon that had finally been made available to them.

  The first group were given the basics of handling explosives, such as Bangalore tubes, blasting caps,
pole charges, particularly useful for pushing into an embrasure of a bunker, cluster charges, ball charges and demolition charges. Once given the theory, they put it into practice on the ranges, small explosions sounding round the range at regular intervals.

  At midday, they broke for lunch and were escorted to the canteen.

  They were seated in the Engineers’ canteen, but were allocated tables well away from the rest of the occupants.

  The canteen was generous in size and well lit, the Engineers were obviously well catered for.

  Max sat down next to Paul, placing a plate of Bratwurst and Sauerkraut, along with a pile of potato noodles, on the table.

  He lowered himself into the well-worn seat and stabbed at a bratwurst with his fork and looking at Paul, he muttered, “They certainly eat well here sir, can we get a transfer?”

  Konrad chipped in, “I haven’t had gingerbread since I left Germany to go to Poland,” he said tucking into it and sipping on a glass of fresh apple juice.

  “There is coffee and kuchen, afterwards,” added Halm, “they live like kings here.”

  “Yes,” agreed Paul, “but they are not Fallschirmjager.”

  They all nodded, not one of them would swap places with the engineers, good food or not.

  After an excellent lunch, it was back out into the cold for the paratroopers, to continue their training. This time the groups swapped over and it was Paul’s group’s turn to look at the new super weapon.

  “Right gentlemen, gather round,” instructed Feldwebel Rhodes, placing his hand on a large conical device in the middle of the table.

  Fortunately for this aspect of the instruction they could remain inside, benefiting from the heat generated by the stove.

  “This gentlemen,” he said patting one of four devices laid out on the table “is a Hohlladungwaffe, a hollow charge weapon.”

  “There are three types, this oblong one is a three kilogram standard demolition charge, the beehive shaped one, a twelve and a half kilogram hollow charged weapon and the father of them all at fifty kilograms, which as you can see, is split into two parts.”

  “Come forward and get a feel for the weight,” he advised.

  The troopers gathered round touching and picking up the devices. “This is going to take some carrying,” said Leeb struggling to pick up the fifty-kilogram dome.

  Rhodes intervened, separating the two parts of the explosive device. “It can be broken down into two, each part weighing approximately half of the total.”

  “That’s better,” concluded Leeb, picking up the device again, “but it’s still bloody heavy, how long to reassemble, Feldwebel?” he queried.

  “They can be carried to the target by the web carrying handle, and once there can be assembled in about twenty seconds, by screwing the two sections together. You then detonate it with a ten second delay, sprengskapsel, a number eight igniter, inserted into the top of the charge.”

  Max turned to Paul and whispered, “We’ll need to find a simple way for the men to carry that thing to the target. They will need to keep their weapons at hand; we can’t afford to have half an assault troop carrying and not able to defend themselves.”

  “You’re right Max,” agreed Paul, “we’ll also need to practice assembling the larger charge on top of the target, in double quick time!”

  “The smaller charge is a single piece?” piped up Fischer

  “Yes,” responded Rhodes, “and it’s ignited in just the same way as its larger brother.”

  “One thing I do need to add, the larger of the two has to be handled with care. It is of a delicate makeup, and if handled too roughly could have a dampening effect on its potency.”

  As a group they got used to the weight of the devices, assembling the larger one and going through the process of setting the fuses.

  “Right, enough of looking, let’s take it outside and let a few of them off. These are expensive bits of kit to make, so we’ll be joining the other group for this demonstration, if someone could bring the small and large hollow charges?”

  Leeb picked the larger device, one in each hand and exclaimed, “God these are bloody heavy, I hope we don’t have to run far with them.”

  “Stop whinging Leeb,” called Fischer, “pass one here and get on with it.”

  They left the building and joined the other group on the ranges to see a live explosion of this new super weapon.

  On completion, they were once again settled in the trucks to take them back to their overnight barracks, to return to Hildesheim by train the day after tomorrow. Tomorrow, they would be having a lesson in construction, Max’s favourite subject.

  By the end of the day, they were fatigued and also slightly deaf from the blasts of the numerous devices they had exploded during the day. This had been a real hands on session, not just an introduction, and they had been setting up and initiating explosions all day. If handled correctly they would add real value to their mission, handled carelessly, they would kill the handler.

  On the return back to the camp, Paul and Max shared the cab of the truck, much to the delight of Leeb and Kienitz, who shared the second cab, Fischer having been too slow and losing out.

  Max leaned towards Paul, who was sat on the window side of the trucks bench seat, and whispered, so the driver wouldn’t be able to overhear, “It’s all well and good seeing those explosives being set off, but they’re not much bloody use blowing a dent in the ground!”

  Paul was equally perturbed by the demonstration; the instructors had been given explicit orders not to explode the device in the way it was intended, on an armoured cupola or concrete structure. They had in fact exploded it on the ground. Although it made an impressive sound and shook the ground beneath them, leaving only a shallow crater, they didn’t actually see it punch through concrete or steel.

  “I agree Max, I will speak to Oberleutnant Faust on our return.”

  They both fell into a silence after that, not wanting to say too much in front of the driver, but also the warmth of the cab, the rhythm of the journey, slowly lulled them both to sleep. All soldiers, the world throughout, take any opportunity to sleep. In combat, they never knew when that luxury would be theirs.

  The driver looked across at them, the burly sergeant and the rangy officer slept as if they hadn’t a care in the world. It’s alright for some he thought, and then returned his gaze to the road to concentrate on the real task of the day, driving his military vehicle on military business.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Between nineteen thirty five and nineteen thirty nine, the Czechoslovakian government built a network of fortifications along its border with Germany and Hungary.

  The purpose being a defensive countermeasure against a potential threat from the ever rising belligerence of Nazi Germany.

  The Benes Wall consisted of heavy defensive fortifications, such as casemates, bunkers and artillery emplacements, and smaller structures, such as pillboxes, anti-tank ditches and other tank counter-measures.

  By September nineteen thirty eight, Czechoslovakia had built two hundred and twenty six heavy fortifications and ten thousand smaller ones. It was the larger fortifications that Hauptman Faust had in mind to use to provide an additional, more realistic, training medium for Group Granite.

  The fact that the French had assisted in the building of the Benes line would also help to give a better understanding of the construction of Fort Eben Emael.

  The group was transported, by Junkers transport aircraft, to an airfield in the town of Pardubice, about ninety kilometres east of Prague. On arrival, they were transported by military transport to a small village called Babi, just north of Trutnov.

  There were a number of casemates made available for them to train on and assault Group Granite was split across three of them to allow the soldiers the best opportunity to practice.

  The casemate allocated to Paul’s platoon, was a huge affair, with three embrasure-sporting weapons of various kinds.

  The front of the highly camouf
laged blockhouse had three embrasures; one directly to the front and one splayed either side, off at an angle of about forty-five degrees.

  Paul, Max and his three Troop Commanders approached the behemoth, astounded by its size and solidity.

  “The best approach,” observed Fischer “is round the back. I hope the gliders land us exactly where we want them to.”

  “Yes,” agreed Leeb, “if they land us in front of it, then we are deep in it, he concluded.”

  “Right gentlemen,” Paul intervened, “I want you to have a good scout around this bunker, inside and out, including the observation cupola on the top and any entrances and exits. Once you’ve seen enough, we will set up some scenarios assaulting the casemate, to practice, one assault troop at a time. Understood?”

  They all nodded in the affirmative.

  Paul turned to Uffz Fischer, “I want your assault troop to prepare a direct frontal assault. You have smoke grenades with you?”

  “Yes sir, we have plenty.”

  “Good, I will leave it up to you how you want to approach this, but you will need to carry the dummy fifty and twelve and a half kilogram explosives with you. Anything else will be live, understood?”

  “Ok sir, we’ll get on it right away.”

  He went to walk away, but Paul quickly stopped him, “one more thing, we will do a critique once all four assault troops have had a go. Ok Fischer, carry on.”

  Fischer left the group and went to join his troop and pass on Paul’s instructions.

  Paul then turned to Leeb; “I want you to attack from the rear, again using the dummy explosives.”

  “On our way sir,” he responded, leaving to gather his men.

  “Max, I want you and Kienitz to attack from the half front, attacking the angled embrasure that is the same side as the entrance point.”

  “Explosives again sir?” enquired Max.

  “Not your team Max. Have Geyer and Rammelt completed their full flamethrower training, because now is an opportunity for them to put it into practice?”