Opening Moves

Continuing in English without thinking, Schwartz spoke swiftly. “Right, here’s the plan. We brazen it out.” He spoke almost as he was thinking it up as he went, with Pförzer mumbling translations for some of the more obscure terms employed. “I can see the Hotel from my billet so we deploy from there and walk down the strasse bold as you like. No hiding, no sneaking, just walk right in. If there is shit, then we must have a diversion planned.” A moment’s pause as his mind searched for the solution and then a huge smile split the American’s face. “In fact, that’s a damn good idea. Hub, you got any damn flares in this goldmine?”

Pförzer opened up the top crate of US Signals gear and liberated a flare pistol.

“Alrighty then, now we’re cooking. We agree a time when Hub here sends some of these up and that will cause the diversion we need. Might even piss Ivan off some.” His face split into a grin. “The General will be in bed by now and won’t be best pleased on being woken obviously, so people will be dispatched to sort it out for sure.”

Schwartz’s face clouded and he became serious. He switched to German.

“Only one of you will be coming in with me ok?”

The group nodded.

“I guess that ought to be you Herr Maior, but do understand one thing please.”

Rolf attentively waited.

“You do anything out of place,” He looked around slowly for full effect, “Any of you… I will blow your fucking heads off.”

And none of them doubted that he would do so without hesitation.

Schwartz looked at his watch.

“It is now 0219 so I guess we should be going. Will take but a few minutes for us to get to the billet, not much more to walk to the hotel. Give ourselves a little safety margin in case of delays. Hub, I say you put a load of those damn flares in the sky bang on 0235.”

Pförzer grinned, examined the crate and extracted a box of flares, which disappeared into his pocket.

“Right then, let’s move out,” and casting a swift eye over the ensemble, “And for fucks sake get yourselves looser. You ain’t goose-stepping now boys! Hub, 0235 ok? And our business will keep until this shit has gone away. Keep yer head down old timer,” and with that he slapped Pförzer’s good shoulder and disappeared up the stairs into the welcoming night.

Time was wasting but as they took their leave of Pförzer, each man thanked him and shook hands. Rolf was last to go.

“We must hurry. Mein freund, without you we would still be floundering in the Donau so thank you. In happier times, perhaps we will meet again and share some stories. Until then, as your Yankee said, keep your head down and survive what is to come. Auf Wiedershein Hub.”

“Auf Wiedershein to you Rolf.”

And with a handshake, he was gone.

0223 hrs Monday, 6th August 1945, Enns, US Occupied Upper Austria

Schwartz led them forward at a steady pace, openly walking up the narrow lane towards his billet on the corner of HauptPlatz, adjacent to the town’s Roman Museum.

All was quiet, and there were no further dalliances with patrols. Schwartz turned and ushered them in through a garden entrance at the back of his billet.

Indicating a need for silence with a finger to the lips, he beckoned them forward to where they could view down the street to the crossroads yards ahead.

Using his hand in the universal sign language of the soldier, he swiftly instructed them that the hotel was left at the junction and then down the street approximately one hundred and fifty yards on the right-hand side. Of course, they calculated in metres.

They stepped away from the dividing fence and huddled close.

A lighter flicked on quickly, reading a watch in the blink of an eye.

“It’s 0229 now. If we walk slowly we should be able to time our arrival with Hub’s display.”

“Walk in pairs, one pair in front by a few yards, the Maior and me first, you two second. I will talk in English, you,” he indicated Braun, “Do so too. Nothing funny that needs him to laugh, just a story about a girl back home or something.”

There was sufficient light for Schwartz to see understanding and compliant nods.

“When Hub does his bit, we improvise and get inside the hotel, and improvise some more to get to the General. Good luck to you and may god help us tonight.”

Standing straight, he turned to go back into the street and stopped himself.

“Remember, nothing funny, and no hurting any American soldiers,” as he patted his carbine.

Some whispered assurances and he stepped out into the lane again, closely followed by Rolf and the other pair.

As they strolled into the centre of Enns, the American lit two cigarettes and handed one to Rolf, starting up a conversation about a bland young woman called Emmy-Lou who was his sweetheart back in the States.

Rolf was aware of a mumbled conversation from behind as Braun similarly started into some tale of the heart.