Guns At Cassino Read Free Page B

bent over his set in the yellow glow of the lantern turned, startled.
    `It's only me,' the CO said. 'And if it had been one of those Goums, it would have been too late anyway. They would have slit your throat - or worse by now ... All right, what's the situation?'
    Quickly Major von Dodenburg set about putting his battalion in order for the attack. In less than sixty minutes, the barrage would begin and as soon as it ended, his first two companies, scattered all over the western side of the Peak, would have to be ready to move in. He'd seen often enough what happened to infantry when they waited too long to move in after the softening-up shelling had finished. He would start moving his first two companies in immediately, chancing a few casualties from shorts or delayed action fuses.
    Sometime later Schulze came in and thrust a canteen cup at him.
    `Here, drink that,' he commanded. 'Cold nigger sweat' - he meant Army coffee - 'and a good shot of grappa . '
    `That's not the way to talk to your commanding officer,' he said without rancour and accepted the cup.
    `It's the tin, sir,' Schulze said. 'Gives me special privileges, you see. Only common soldier in the Battle Group with the throat ache.'
    He tapped the black-and-white metal of the Knight's Cross of the Iron Cross which hung from his neck significantly.
    Von Dodenburg took a swig of the fiery Italian spirit and gasped.
    `Yes, Schulze, and one of these days that big Hamburg mouth of yours is going to get you a nice old arse-ache too. But thanks all the same.'
    Schulze sniffed. 'After four years in the Wotan, what could happen to me that - ’
    `You might have to face me, Schulze,' a well-known Prussian voice rasped coldly, and Colonel Geier - the Vulture - Wotan's monocled CO dropped lightly into the hole, armed as usual only with his riding crop.
    ` Achtung ! ' von Dodenburg snapped and tried to come to attention in the confined space.
    `None of that foolishness, von Dodenburg! We are not playing soldiers now.' As Captain Schwarz, his one-armed adjutant, dropped into the hole, the Vulture pushed by Schulze to the map. 'Everything in order?' he asked, looking down at it, his monstrous beak of a nose which had helped to give him his nickname silhouetted in the yellow light.
    ‘ Yessir H-hour is at zero six hours. My two lead companies will jump off at zero six, ten. Companies three and four will follow at a two hundred metres interval. I shall go in with the third company.'
    `Good.' The Vulture looked up, screwing his monocle more firmly in his cold blue eye. 'I think we shall catch them on the hop. If there's any trouble, I've got the tank battalion dismounted and ready to give you additional support. I shall go up with you, however. Schwarz here will maintain contact.'
    Schwarz's crazy eyes flashed a look of acknowledgement.
    `It could be dangerous, sir,' von Dodenburg said a little hesitantly, afraid of provoking one of the Vulture's unpredictable rages.
    `I know, von Dodenburg, and I can assure you that I treasure my skin as much as the next man. But as you know the operation has been ordered by the Führer himself and if I am to obtain those precious general's stars, I must ensure that the greatest captain of all times is not disappointed, eh?'
    He grinned cynically as he used the malicious term for the Führer. Schwarz, the fanatical National Socialist, whose uncle, murdered by British killers the previous summer, had been the great Heydrich himself, glared at the CO. Von Dodenburg contented himself with a faint shake of his head. The Vulture had absolutely no feeling whatsoever for the National Socialist cause; his sole concern was promotion and more promotion, indeed that was why the ex-regular cavalryman had transferred to Himmler's Black Guards in the first place. Promotion was quicker in the elite SS formation. But there was no time now to waste on such considerations. H-hour was approaching rapidly.
    `I suggest we go out now, sir,' he said, throwing a quick