spirit is broken
, he thought. It was time for a more drastic approach. He put his arm around Dieter. “Is this little guy here the only one among you who isn’t a sniveling coward? Now, who is brave enough to join our squad?”
That insult brought a murmur from the group, but their anger dissipated when Klaus handed the white flag to Frederick. “I am brave enough to join your squad,” he announced. “If you are brave enough to accept an man who is old enough to have fought against Napoleon.”
Sebastian was undeterred by the qualifications, or lack thereof, of the squad he was trying to assemble. “If you were brave enough to put that uniform on with the Red Army closing in on Berlin, you’re brave enough for me. Now, who else is brave enough to help us implement our genius plan?”
The
Luftwaffe
pilot raised his hand. So did Thor, a soldier who had lost his left arm in the invasion of France. Neither man thought Sebastian’s plan—whatever it was—had a snowball’s chance in hell of succeeding, but the idea of surrendering to the Russians scared them, despite the promise of lenient treatment being touted by Soviet propagandists.
Frederick spit on the ground. “Enjoy your lost cause, you rat bastards.” And with that, he raised the white flag and led the rest of the men down the street.
Five minutes later, Sebastian and Wolf led their new rag-tag squad into the Hotel Neptune. As they entered, Dieter slipped and fell. As the men helped Dieter up, their attention shifted from his blood-soaked pants to the smashed and mutilated bodies that were scattered all over the place. It was butchery on a scale they had never seen before.
“Oh my,” Klaus said. “This is terrible.”
“Yeah, sorry. We had a little incident.”
“A little incident? This was no little incident,” Klaus replied. “This was a bloodbath, man. An orgy of violence.”
Dieter was astonished. “Are you guys serial murderers?”
“Pretty much,” Wolf replied. “Now, grab all the ammo and grenades you can find. You’re going to need it.”
29
Retaliation
The street remained eerily quiet as Frederick led the trek to the Russian lines. The death and destruction that they passed on the way was incredible.
The men wept when they passed the bread line, where the grim reaper took the form of an artillery shell. Out in the open, the poor hungry people had no chance against the white-hot steel that sliced their bodies to ribbons.
“I’ll never see my wife again,” a soldier sobbed.
“Stay strong,” Frederick replied.
A young soldier spotted a Russian sniper peering down at them from a rooftop. “I have a bad feeling about this. We should go back.”
“Everything will be fine,” Frederick replied. “We just have to make contact.” Then he waved the white flag back and forth and shouted. “Hello! We surrender! We have documents issued by the Red Army that guarantee us treatment in accordance with the Geneva Convention!”
Red Army soldier Alexander Lebel watched the Germans approach with bitterness in his heart. He had lost all three of his brothers when the SS locked them in a woodshed in reprisal for a partisan attack. The problem wasn’t the detention, it was the fact that the SS set the shed on fire and sprayed it with machine gun fire while his brothers were still inside. Now, the murderous bastards were asking for mercy and he was the one behind the machine gun. These Germans weren’t wearing black SS uniforms, but that didn’t matter to Alexander. They were all the same.
The surrendering Germans were caught off guard when the machine gun erupted. Most were cut down where they stood. Some tried to run away, but only one got more than a few steps.
Back in the Neptune, Wolf raised his binoculars as the staccato gunshots rang out. It saddened but did not surprise him that the men who Sebastian had just tried to talk out of surrendering were dead. He watched the lone survivor wave the white flag as he crawled back
, he thought. It was time for a more drastic approach. He put his arm around Dieter. “Is this little guy here the only one among you who isn’t a sniveling coward? Now, who is brave enough to join our squad?”
That insult brought a murmur from the group, but their anger dissipated when Klaus handed the white flag to Frederick. “I am brave enough to join your squad,” he announced. “If you are brave enough to accept an man who is old enough to have fought against Napoleon.”
Sebastian was undeterred by the qualifications, or lack thereof, of the squad he was trying to assemble. “If you were brave enough to put that uniform on with the Red Army closing in on Berlin, you’re brave enough for me. Now, who else is brave enough to help us implement our genius plan?”
The
Luftwaffe
pilot raised his hand. So did Thor, a soldier who had lost his left arm in the invasion of France. Neither man thought Sebastian’s plan—whatever it was—had a snowball’s chance in hell of succeeding, but the idea of surrendering to the Russians scared them, despite the promise of lenient treatment being touted by Soviet propagandists.
Frederick spit on the ground. “Enjoy your lost cause, you rat bastards.” And with that, he raised the white flag and led the rest of the men down the street.
Five minutes later, Sebastian and Wolf led their new rag-tag squad into the Hotel Neptune. As they entered, Dieter slipped and fell. As the men helped Dieter up, their attention shifted from his blood-soaked pants to the smashed and mutilated bodies that were scattered all over the place. It was butchery on a scale they had never seen before.
“Oh my,” Klaus said. “This is terrible.”
“Yeah, sorry. We had a little incident.”
“A little incident? This was no little incident,” Klaus replied. “This was a bloodbath, man. An orgy of violence.”
Dieter was astonished. “Are you guys serial murderers?”
“Pretty much,” Wolf replied. “Now, grab all the ammo and grenades you can find. You’re going to need it.”
29
Retaliation
The street remained eerily quiet as Frederick led the trek to the Russian lines. The death and destruction that they passed on the way was incredible.
The men wept when they passed the bread line, where the grim reaper took the form of an artillery shell. Out in the open, the poor hungry people had no chance against the white-hot steel that sliced their bodies to ribbons.
“I’ll never see my wife again,” a soldier sobbed.
“Stay strong,” Frederick replied.
A young soldier spotted a Russian sniper peering down at them from a rooftop. “I have a bad feeling about this. We should go back.”
“Everything will be fine,” Frederick replied. “We just have to make contact.” Then he waved the white flag back and forth and shouted. “Hello! We surrender! We have documents issued by the Red Army that guarantee us treatment in accordance with the Geneva Convention!”
Red Army soldier Alexander Lebel watched the Germans approach with bitterness in his heart. He had lost all three of his brothers when the SS locked them in a woodshed in reprisal for a partisan attack. The problem wasn’t the detention, it was the fact that the SS set the shed on fire and sprayed it with machine gun fire while his brothers were still inside. Now, the murderous bastards were asking for mercy and he was the one behind the machine gun. These Germans weren’t wearing black SS uniforms, but that didn’t matter to Alexander. They were all the same.
The surrendering Germans were caught off guard when the machine gun erupted. Most were cut down where they stood. Some tried to run away, but only one got more than a few steps.
Back in the Neptune, Wolf raised his binoculars as the staccato gunshots rang out. It saddened but did not surprise him that the men who Sebastian had just tried to talk out of surrendering were dead. He watched the lone survivor wave the white flag as he crawled back
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