The Devil's Blessing Read online

  It worked.

  Chapter Two

  Unteroffizier Erich Ingersleben's tent was luxurious compared to what the soldiers had. They were trapped inside their small, makeshift tents, more blankets on sticks than anything. Most of the men had built their tents in or near the gathering of trees, giving them a bit of shelter, if not from the cold then at least from the wind. At least it was better than the Russians had. They had no other option than to lay on top of each other. Many of the Germans quite enjoyed that. These Russians were made to act almost like homosexuals. The men joked that that would give them two reasons to be shot: for being gay and being Russian. The only question to the Germans was which was worse.

  The table was nothing more than a huge wooden spool set to its side, and the chairs were two weapons crates. In the corner was a barely noticeable bed, a thin mattress atop a small stack of pine needles. Not even he, an Unteroffizier, had a pillow.

  The rest of the tent was filled with little things, like clothes and some supplies that needed sheltering. No one was safe from work now, not even those in charge. In fact, the once envious job of being in command was now the most perilous. As the war waged on and some commanders thought Germany would fall, it was those deserting commanders being ordered shot by the Reich.

  “Have a seat,” Ingersleben said, pointing to the only table inside the tent.“How are they?” Oberfeldwebel Haas asked.

  “The men?” Ingersleben responded. “As good as can be in a time of war.”

  This produced a nod from Haas. “And the others?”

  “The prisoners?” Ingersleben asked. “They’re the same. Just like last week and the week before that. You know, one thing is funny,” Ingersleben said, as he put a finger to his lip. “It’s been a while since one has died.”

  “Really? And how is that funny?”

  “Well,” Ingersleben began as he sipped on his coffee, “when we first got them, they were dying left and right. You heard about the bets the men have, yes?”

  Haas shook his head no. Ingersleben explained that the men had starting making bets as to who would die next and when one would die. Since they had nothing to give, one of the men had a notebook, taking notes of how much money each man would owe the other once Germany had won the war and they were all home safely in their warm beds.

  Josef Wernher had even shot a prisoner on the day he'd chosen that one would die. It had brought a good laugh to everyone that day, but in the end, he was cheating. But there really was no harm. After all, no real money was lost, and a Russian had died, so something good had come out of the harmless joke.

  Ingersleben continued, “Well, it has now been eleven days since any of them have died. Eleven! I mean, we have been feeding them the bare minimum, but still, even when we were feeding them more, they were still dying. Not anymore.”

  “It’s getting warmer,” Haas retorted.

  “It is getting warmer,” Ingersleben admitted, “but if this is warm, I don’t want to know what cold is.”

  They exchanged a grin.

  “And this concerns you? That they—” Haas said, motioning outside the tent—“aren’t dying? Are you starting to love these men?”

  Ingersleben scoffed at the thought and let out a small laugh. “No, of course not. It’s just…”

  The pause hung for what seemed a minute.

  “Just what? Out with it.”

  “It’s just…concerning. Concerning that we are now down to such resilient men. If they were to escape—” Haas raised a hand, “They won’t escape. They’ll be shot before they do that.”

  “So then why have them? I know the orders, but--” And Ingersleben really did want to know. He truly didn’t understand why command would want these men held captive. Especially since the war was happening all around them and they could be used on more important things. Things like killing the Soviets that were out there.

  “It’s more than just our orders,” Haas said. Ingersleben could tell that there was something on his mind, something he wanted to share.

  Oberfeldwebel Peter Haas hunched down, putting his face near the lamp, giving his face a strange glow. In what could only be explained as a loud whisper, he said, “You’ve heard the reports. You know the news. The British, with the help of the Americans and Canadians, are now in Germany, and the Russians are pushing us back as well. We’re being squeezed.”

  “I know that, Oberfeldwebel, which is even more reason. Why are we still holding these men prisoner?”

  Haas moved slowly away from the lamp. He started to smile. “The official story? Prisoners of war are to be treated well on both sides. We treat them well, they’ll treat us well. It’s what any self-respecting warrior should do. But you and I both know that the treatment of prisoners, on either side, has been the farthest from ideal.”

  So in a voice that was nearly pleading, Ingersleben asked, “Then again, I ask you, why are we keeping these men alive?”

  Haas rubbed his brow. “You don’t get it, do you? We are losing this war. We are going to lose this war. The only thing we have to save our lives is those men out there. The prisoners.”

  Ingersleben didn’t understand. Haas returned his face to the lamp.

  “When the Soviets come to take us prisoners, and they will, we will hand over their comrades. Hopefully they will show us the same mercy that we have shown them. That’s why I haven’t given you the order to kill them. That’s why none of us in command have given the order. It was decided that we’ll need them when we surrender.”

  Ingersleben couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Haas was one of the most decorated Germans he knew. He had fought in North Africa alongside the Italians. He was one of the most loyal men he knew, and now he was talking of surrender and bartering prisoners. This seemed like an otherworldly joke to Ingersleben.

  “Sir, I know that things are dire and hard right now,” Ingersleben said, “but there is no way we are going to lose this war. These are all just setbacks. Once it gets warmer, we’ll regroup, and then we’ll—”

  “We’ll what? Bring up our dead and have them fight? No. No. But there is another way, a way that doesn’t involve having to hand over these Russian monsters and ourselves to the Red Army. A different plan that I have come up with on my own.” To this, Ingersleben was more receptive.

  “You don’t seem to understand. You don’t see,” Haas said, and, putting his hands on the table and learning toward Ingersleben’s face, he said, “We are all already dead. We just don’t know it yet.”

  ❧

  Where they all already dead as Oberfeldwebel Haas had said? The news was conflicting. In one moment they were being told over the radio that triumph was just a few months away. But how long had they heard that? For several years now. And if they were winning the war, what about losing Paris? Why weren’t they in Moscow right now?

  Like all men at war, the soldiers all shared hushed conversations about the war and where it was headed. All outcomes were on the table—everything from victory to all out defeat. Every man believed differently where the needle of victory was, and it would change for some from day to day. But Ingersleben had really believed that the Germans were going to win the war. They had won so much so fast, they could surely do it again.

  But now, he wasn’t too sure. Now, for the first time, he really felt a doubt. He felt stupid that he had made himself believe that they were going to survive this and come out as champions of Europe. But now, with the words from the Oberfeldwebel, it looked all the more likely that they were on the road to failure.

  While the men always had different opinions about where they were and how they were doing, the story from command was always the same: victory is certain. For the first time in his life Ingersleben, had heard a top Nazi tell him that all was lost. And he was right. For the first time in this war, Erich Ingersleben felt defeated.

  Chapter Three

  It was an odd night for the men with their new visitor. Ingersleben and Haas spent a good part of the night laughing
and playing cards. It was the type of jovial exchange that only came from being booze, and Otto and the other men knew that whatever bottle they were drinking from had come on horseback the previous afternoon. Any thought that their Unteroffizier was hiding alcohol from them would be one burden too much to bear.

  The night was again filled with sleepless lengths of time that weren't different from any other; except this time, it was filled also with quiet resentment, as the two men in charge enjoyed a joyous night while the rest looked on from a distance between dirt and useless blankets.

  There was some reprieve, however. The men did wake up to a somewhat pleasant sight. Ingersleben was asleep outside his tent. Otto realized that he had never seen a commander sleep outside. Part of him knew that he should’ve been concerned that the situation had devolved so much so that his commander was now being forced out of his own tent by a superior. But he couldn’t pretend that he wasn't enjoying the man who barked, yelled and ordered everyone around was now being humbled in such a fashion. By the looks of the small smiles shared by the other men, it looked as if he wasn’t alone.

  There was now a strange energy that permeated the camp. They now had another bit of work on their plate, and that was making Oberfeldwebel Peter Haas a happy man.

  Making Haas happy was twofold. For one, he needed to be taken care of. One of the men was assigned to him. Besides getting him his coffee, his job was to play tour guide that morning, which was a huge job in of itself. You could have given a tour in two seconds by having a look around, but the soldier assigned to him did a good job of exaggerating the time and slowly going over each part of the camp. He did this mostly by feeding into Haas’s ego, taking notes as to what he thought should be done. With exaggerated nods of yes, the soldier did everything in his power to make Haas feel as if he was a large king in this small kingdom. While it was a ridiculous sight for the men, it was good that he was at least occupied in something else.

  The second part of making him happy was to make the men, and thereby the camp, look busy. There were chores and basic upkeep that needed to be done, but in this place those things were far and few. For all of Ingersleben’s faults, Otto thought, he was good at spreading the minuscule jobs out day by day, week by week. While no one wanted to sit around all day and freeze, there really was no other option, since their options were so limited. But now that they had an extra pair of eyes looking at them, and an important pair at that, they now had to look busy for the sake of appearances. The men didn’t mind it too much, as it gave them something to do, but this wouldn’t last too long. One more day, maybe, and then there would be literally nothing else to do for weeks ahead. Everyone shared the secret hope that their newfound friend was merely stopping by, and that his visit would be as abrupt as his appearance.

  It was proving to be an undue stress, as the men had become accustomed to their days of menial work. There was a certain structure in their days that was due, in part, to the way Ingersleben had the men carry on the hours. The men may have come from different corners of Germany with backgrounds as varied as the seasons, but they did have one thing in common: they all hated Unteroffizier Ingersleben and his cold, matter-of-fact, ways.

  But now, with Oberfeldwebel Peter Haas at their camp, many men, including Otto, were beginning to rethink the notion that their commander was the worst man on earth. Haas deserved the title more.

  Just as Otto was about to lose his mind in pretending to clean the same three pots for another two hours, they were given respite, as the Oberfeldwebel and Unteroffizier adjourned to Ingersleben’s tent for a break from looking and judging other men. As soon as the two men closed the tent flap behind him, nearly all the men fell to the ground in exhaustion.

  One little grenade and two big problems would be gone, Otto thought. He hated those two men. Not so much for the men they were, but because of the man they were turning him into.

  ❧

  “And this is the best course of action?” Ingersleben asked. “There really is no other way?”

  Haas gave him an exasperated look. “What do you think? What else can we do?”

  Ingersleben nodded. “Okay. But just tell me the plan again, one more time.”

  “You know the plan!” Haas said, nearly shouting. “We’ve been over it.”

  “Please,” Ingersleben said, “humor me. For my sake.”

  Haas gave him a stern look, as if to say no, and that's the end of it. But then, Ingersleben said, “If I am to risk my life, and those of my men, I just need to hear it again. Please.” The last word came out more as a demand than a plea.

  It seemed that Haas appreciated Ingersleben’s soft demand, and relented.

  “We will inform the men that we are secretly going to the Western Front. And there, we will surrender to British and American forces.”

  “And the prisoners?”

  “We will execute them. All off them.”

  Ingersleben nodded. He seemed to agree. “I think you're right. I do believe your plan will work, but let’s look at it a bit closer.”

  Haas motioned for Ingersleben to continue.

  “First,” he said, “the men are going to enjoy killing the Russians. That’s a certainty!” They shared a silent chuckle. “One thing I do question is: how many of the men are willing to go on ahead with this plan? We are talking about treason, after all. Some will think it a test, and others might outright deny it. Many of these men’s friends have died in battle for the Fatherland and many won’t be ready to surrender. Many, if not most, are ready to die for the German people and the thought of becoming like one of them,” he said, pointing to the direction of the Russian prisoners outside, “is a fate worse than death. My fear, Herr Oberfeldwebel, is that we won’t live for a moment after of our announcement of the plan.”

  “And you see,” Haas said, “that is where you are wrong. The men will listen to me and my command. When they hear these words coming from me, they’ll agree.” He crossed his arms and smugly nodded his head. “You’ll see.”

  The only thing Ingersleben could see was a cocky man. The only other man so self-assured that he had ever met was the man he met every morning in the mirror.

  “Very well,” Ingersleben said. “When do you propose we do this?”

  “Today.”

  “Today!” Ingersleben was ready for the horror of war to end as much as the next man, but even he wasn’t in such a rush.

  “Of course. Why not?” Haas said. “The longer we wait, the tighter the noose becomes. We have one advantage, and that’s time. Let’s not waste it. It’s either my plan or the plan of the generals. It’s your choice.”

  “Very well,” Ingersleben said, realizing that there really was no choice. “Let me just talk to a few of my more trusted men.”

  “Why?”

  “To save our asses in case this little plan doesn’t work out, that’s why. If even one man doesn’t agree to the desertion plan, he is likely to shoot us both in the back. We will need men who already know and agree to the plan ahead of time and can act like our protectors should the plan not be universally agreed upon.”

  “And who are these trusted men?”

  “Leave that to me,” Ingersleben said. “I have one or two in mind.”

  ❧

  There was something happening, Otto just didn’t know what. It was now past afternoon, and there was some extra scurrying-about as the day continued. Oberfeldwebel Peter Haas was no where to be seen—inside Ingersleben’s tent, presumably—and Ingersleben was going around the camp in a nervous manner. Ingersleben was in a nervous mood, with his head and eyes darting about, like a rooster who can hear the master sharpening his knives.

  After a few moments Otto realized what made their commander’s actions seem so out of place. He wasn’t his usual thunderous self. When he spoke to the men, he spoke to them in a hushed manner. Coupled with his nervous demeanor, it all told Otto that something more was happening that met the eye.

  The other men didn’t seem to notice, proba
bly because Haas’s visit had thrown their world and everything they perceived off kilter as it was, and this new development was overlooked as just another part of the day’s changes. Or perhaps, Otto thought, he was losing his own mind. Everyone else had quietly gone mad at their own pace; had he just crossed from the land of sanity as well, and not even noticed? He wasn’t sure, but the thought just added another fear to the many he had already. If the war ended right that moment, he would never go back to the man he was. He may not have had any open wounds on him, but a part of him was already dead.

  “Are you done?”

  Otto turned to see the voice calling him. It was Grenadier Josef Wernher, Ingersleben’s unofficial right hand man. Otto was using the restroom and had been standing there with his pants unbuckled for who knew how long.

  “Yes,” Otto said, closing the buttons on his pants and buckling them. “What is it?”

  “Unteroffizier has a new order for a few men.”

  “Well then, why doesn’t he tell me?” Otto asked, instantly regretting his combative tone.

  “Because,” Wernher said, walking over to face Otto, “he’s busy at the moment, and asked me to tell you. That is okay with you, is it not, Gemeiner?”

  “Yes, of course,” Otto said, quickly shrinking into the passive dog he was used to being. “What are our commander’s orders?”

  Wernher seemed to be relieved at Otto’s change of tone. “We are to kill all the Soviet prisoners.”

  “Yes,” Otto said, nodding, “understood.” But he didn’t understand. If we’re going to kill these Russian animals, why the secrecy? he thought. Once the men got wind that they were about to rid the earth of these Russian beasts, the happier the men would be.

  “There’s something else,” Wernher said. “We are going to the Western Front to turn ourselves over to the invading forces.”