Sniper's Honor

CHAPTER 44

It’s quite humorous, actually,” pointed out Senior Group Leader Groedl in his office late that evening with Sturmbannführer Salid, “here I’m the one trying to talk you into it, and you’re the one trying to talk me out of it! Don’t you see? It should be reversed.”

But the humor was theoretical rather than actual, and neither man laughed.

They sat on the leather sofa in Groedl’s office. Before them was a Mouton Rothschild from 1927, which the senior group leader was in the process of finishing while the young Sturmbannführer was merely sniffing occasionally. That meant they were equally drunk. Dr. Groedl had even loosened his tie.

“It’s just that the senior group leader is so inspirational,” said Salid, “has touched so many with his passion and his logic, has reached across generations, it terrifies me that he risks himself in such a way.”

“War is risk, Yusef.”

“But certain risks are a part of making war, such as attacking a hill or dropping a bomb or being under artillery fire. This one you assume is arbitrary. It has no meaning in the war. It puts you in great danger for no gain at all.”

“Immense gain. For reasons I should not divulge to you, the White Witch is enormously important. She may not even understand her value, though perhaps she does. Without realizing it, she has it in her power to reveal the identity of a certain agent within Stalin’s inner circle. Oh, I shouldn’t be telling you this. My wife watches my drinking, but you come here with a fine bottle, and two glasses into it, I’m talking my head off! Yusef, you must swear to me. I will tell you more on only one condition. That is, if you swear on that desert god of yours that you will not be taken alive. This is too precious a secret to be spent stupidly. Save the last Luger cartridge for yourself, do you understand?”

“By Allah, I swear,” said Yusef.

“Then hear me and understand. I owe a particular debt to this man. And his intelligence is very valuable. It wasn’t in the manner of brigade movements and timetables. That material is much overrated. No, no, he was with us in our other war, our war, Yusef, working not for military intelligence or the high command or anything like that, but working for and reporting directly to IV-B4, RSHA. He was their agent. His reports went directly to Müller and were turned to action by Eichmann. He was their own private intelligence network against the Jews of the Soviet Union. How do you think we knew when we got to a Soviet city where the Jewish quarter was? How do you think we knew who the Jewish leaders in that city were, who the intelligentsia were, who the merchants were? How were we able to round them up on the first night and see that they got what they deserved? Those long lists of names and addresses, Yusef, that guided your actions when you were a part of Einsatzgruppen D in the early years, and all the other Einsatzgruppen actions, A, B, and C as well, and took the thousands to the pits and buried them there. Not only because they were Jews but because they were leaders. We had to cut the head off the Jewish beast, Yusef, that was the key to the whole thing, and that will be our legacy that the world, which holds us in contempt now, will recognize later.”

“This man provided all that?”

“Yes, he fought the real war.” Groedl laughed giddily. “Not the business of generals and tanks but the far more important business of racial purity, of cleansing the pollutants and the toxins from the human strain. When you look at Russia, you and I both see a vast carnival of German death. The millions! Think of the boys from Heidelberg and Hamburg and Dresden and Munich and little farm towns you never heard of, who came to Russia to find their bitter end under the snow, in the rubble, in the wheat fields. Those millions of German dead must have some meaning, or life is not worth living or clinging to. And that is what has made the sacrifice worthwhile and made our legacy worth building upon.”

“I see,” said Salid, taking another delicious whiff of the Mouton Rothschild, its subtleties pressing the hairs of his nostrils.

“Yes, yes,” said Groedl. “He was able to give IV-B4 invaluable information that informed our operations. It may have been the biggest intelligence operation in history, because this man realized that his obligations to his race transcended his obligations to his country. As he rose and acquired power — helped by gifts of intelligence from our own people — he got us more and more. Under the guise of a ‘survey,’ he was able to provide us with names and numbers in the thousands. A whole Soviet department actually worked for IV-B4! Can you imagine? And when he learned that this woman had been sent to kill me at the personal order of Josef Stalin, he took action to save my life at great risk to his own. That is why he must be saved and the information of his true loyalty controlled. We must find out if this woman has any suspicions, if she has figured out his identity, and if she has communicated her thoughts to anyone. Do you see now why I risk my life? Not only to protect a hero but to protect our cause!”

The slightly drunk SS captain nodded.

“Not only that, she cannot hit me.”

“She cannot hit you?”

“Not with a Soviet rifle, and that is the only rifle she could have. I had the master sniper Repp, Lieutenant Colonel Repp, hero of Demansk—”

Salid was mightily impressed. “Repp! Repp of SS — Death’s Head Division! He killed a hundred Russians in one day and lived to laugh about it.” Repp had even been on a postcard.

“Yes, that Repp. He is a friend of mine. At my request, he ran tests using a captured Russian rifle with its sights. Even the great Repp could not hit a target beyond five hundred yards with that rifle. Repp, the Reich’s greatest marksman!”

“That is very good news.”

“So let us go over it one more time.”

“Yes sir.” Salid took another sniff. Explosions and thunder and lightning. Craziness. Clarity when the noise had ceased.

“You will arrive by military convoy, in a staff Horch car from SS-12 Panzer and two panzerwagens. It should be obvious to anyone in the mountains who is paying attention that the senior group leader is arriving. Nevertheless, you will halt at our command position outside the village for an hour or so, giving her ample time to move into a position. But she cannot get within five hundred yards, because that burned space is open and being patrolled by Police Battalion personnel. She’ll have to shoot from somewhere in the forest at five hundred yards. We have noted all the spots in that cone of territory that yield a vantage point on your activities in the zone. We will infiltrate two-man teams in heavy camouflage to monitor each one. If and when she approaches, they will let her settle in, let her concentrate on her job, then take her alive. Upon the sound of shots, if shots are necessary, the other two-man teams will converge rapidly on the site. In case, a half mile out of the zone, we have two dog teams. If she should evade immediate capture, the dog teams will close on the locality in a matter of a few minutes and pick up her trail. The dogs will run her down. The dogs are very good. At the very worst, the very worst, they will drive her toward Natasha’s Womb, where the parachutists of Battlegroup Von Drehle will intercept her.”

“The flaw in the plan is the parachutists. I had nasty words with their oberfeldwebel over the issue of the execution of Von Bink.”

“They will do their duty, I will see to that. I will have Muntz call and explain things to them very clearly. They will obey or they will be dead. That is the only option they have. And if they hinder you, then it will mean nothing to me or to the Reich if you execute them. I am not ordering you to do so; I am telling you that is your prerogative if circumstances warrant. You have wide latitude.”

“Yes sir.”

“Then you take the Yaremche road through the mountain to the airbase at Uzhgorod, where that FW 200 awaits you and the White Witch. Then you go straight to Berlin.”

“Sir, I’ll hold the plane for you if the Soviets have started their offensive.”

“No, no. You must leave with her instantly. The woman is everything. She is everything.”

There was one last thing to do, and Groedl did it the next day. He spoke at length to Muntz, Brigadeführer of SS 12th Panzer and now, upon the death of Von Bink, commander as well of 14th Panzer and all the units under its umbrella. Muntz, later that afternoon, went to his communications unit and had the men reach Oskar, as the Green Devil position was code-named, and ordered the signals NCO to reset to a different, much less used channel. Once that was accomplished, he ordered Oskar Signals to locate Oskar Leader, Von Drehle himself. It took a few minutes, but then Von Drehle took up the microphone.

The general explained that he had great faith in Von Drehle, even if he believed several of his men were subversive. He mentioned a particularly impertinent NCO under Von Drehle’s command. He would hate to order executions and would be far less inclined to do so if Von Drehle’s men performed their duty at Natasha’s Womb, especially in the matter of the woman sniper called the White Witch.

He went on: “If you are successful, once she is turned over to Police Battalion, I will forget all about Bober’s intransigence. Moreover, I will personally intercede with the general staff and see you and your men given two weeks of leave, then a transfer to the Western Front, where you can rejoin Second Fallschirmjäger. Then, Von Drehle, find a nice American patrol to surrender to, tell them how you loathe the hated SS, and survive the war. Are you reading this, Major?”

“I am, sir.”

“Excellent. Do we have an understanding? You help me, I help you, we both help the Reich, and everything turns out for the better. The bandit woman is to be taken alive.”