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Authors: James Holland
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Slowly he put the receiver down. 'It's happened,' he said. 'The
Germans have invaded Belgium. And we're on standby to join the rest of the
battalion. Twelve hours' notice. It seems we'll soon be going off to war.'
Chapter 4
If he was completely honest with himself,
Sturmbannfuhrer Otto Timpke had probably had too much to drink the previous
night. He prided himself on never losing control, but the news that the
division was at long last on standby to move to the front had been worth
celebrating. When the boss had suggested they might like to dine out of the
mess, he and the other officers in the Aufklarung Abteilung, the division's
reconnaissance battalion, had piled into their cars and driven into Stuttgart.
There they had met up with some other officers from
the 2nd Regiment Brandenburg and it had turned out to be a particularly
enjoyable night: a good dinner, a few toasts, Rudolf Saalbach singing
'Casanova- lied ' - the adopted battalion song -
which never ceased to make him laugh, and then a few hours with an attractive
girl called Maria. He knew that several of his comrades had later headed off to
the city's fleshpots, but that was not his way. Timpke had always believed that
paying for it was an abomination. After all, the seduction was half the fun. He
was, he knew, a handsome young man. He was tall and broad, with fair hair, a
narrow nose and a smile he had learned to use to good effect, and he had long
ago realized that getting women to do what he wanted came rather easily to him.
His whole life had been rather like that. He was
blessed with a good brain and a strong physique, and had made the most of both:
school, sports, university - he had shone at them all. And when he had joined
Brigadefuhrer Eicke's Totenkopfverbande, he had, naturally, been singled out
quickly as officer material and packed off to SS-Junkerschule. It had pleased
him to discover that most of his fellow cadets were less clever and educated
than he: it ensured that he continued to stand out above the rest. Now, three
years later and aged twenty-five, he was commander of the division's
reconnaissance unit, the men who would lead the vanguard of any advance and, as
such, about to be given the honour of leading the elite of the elite - as Eicke
always liked to remind them they were - into battle.
That morning he had woken early. The early-summer sun
had streamed through the closed window of his room, making him hot and
restless. His mouth had felt dry and his head ached. He had drunk a litre of
water, put on his black running shorts and white vest, with the SS runic symbol
emblazoned on the front, then headed out of the garrison barracks, down
Stuttgarterstrasse and into the baroque palace gardens of Ludwigsburg and the
woods beyond. By the time he was running back through the palace gardens, his
head had cleared and he felt alert and invigorated. He had drunk wine and
schnapps at dinner, but he reflected that it was probably the sekt - I that essential tool of seduction - that had
made the difference. Maria had taken longer than some to succumb and had
insisted he match her glass for glass. Still, it had been worth it. He had
taken her in his open-top Adler Triumph to a hotel he had used several times
before and, in bed, had found her most compliant. Eventually, leaving her
asleep, he had crept out and driven back to the garrison. By half past two he
had been in his room.
As he showered and changed into his uniform, he wondered
again when they would be moving. If he had one fault, it was impatience. Throughout
his life, he had striven for the next goal only to find that once he had
achieved it, the rewards were something of an anticlimax. He had been first
drawn to the Totenkopf by Eicke's insistence on its elite status, but he had
quickly tired of guarding the Reich's enemies. With the boss, he shared a
desire for Totenkopf Division to become the finest military unit in all of
Germany. With the outbreak of war, the reconnaissance
Germans have invaded Belgium. And we're on standby to join the rest of the
battalion. Twelve hours' notice. It seems we'll soon be going off to war.'
Chapter 4
If he was completely honest with himself,
Sturmbannfuhrer Otto Timpke had probably had too much to drink the previous
night. He prided himself on never losing control, but the news that the
division was at long last on standby to move to the front had been worth
celebrating. When the boss had suggested they might like to dine out of the
mess, he and the other officers in the Aufklarung Abteilung, the division's
reconnaissance battalion, had piled into their cars and driven into Stuttgart.
There they had met up with some other officers from
the 2nd Regiment Brandenburg and it had turned out to be a particularly
enjoyable night: a good dinner, a few toasts, Rudolf Saalbach singing
'Casanova- lied ' - the adopted battalion song -
which never ceased to make him laugh, and then a few hours with an attractive
girl called Maria. He knew that several of his comrades had later headed off to
the city's fleshpots, but that was not his way. Timpke had always believed that
paying for it was an abomination. After all, the seduction was half the fun. He
was, he knew, a handsome young man. He was tall and broad, with fair hair, a
narrow nose and a smile he had learned to use to good effect, and he had long
ago realized that getting women to do what he wanted came rather easily to him.
His whole life had been rather like that. He was
blessed with a good brain and a strong physique, and had made the most of both:
school, sports, university - he had shone at them all. And when he had joined
Brigadefuhrer Eicke's Totenkopfverbande, he had, naturally, been singled out
quickly as officer material and packed off to SS-Junkerschule. It had pleased
him to discover that most of his fellow cadets were less clever and educated
than he: it ensured that he continued to stand out above the rest. Now, three
years later and aged twenty-five, he was commander of the division's
reconnaissance unit, the men who would lead the vanguard of any advance and, as
such, about to be given the honour of leading the elite of the elite - as Eicke
always liked to remind them they were - into battle.
That morning he had woken early. The early-summer sun
had streamed through the closed window of his room, making him hot and
restless. His mouth had felt dry and his head ached. He had drunk a litre of
water, put on his black running shorts and white vest, with the SS runic symbol
emblazoned on the front, then headed out of the garrison barracks, down
Stuttgarterstrasse and into the baroque palace gardens of Ludwigsburg and the
woods beyond. By the time he was running back through the palace gardens, his
head had cleared and he felt alert and invigorated. He had drunk wine and
schnapps at dinner, but he reflected that it was probably the sekt - I that essential tool of seduction - that had
made the difference. Maria had taken longer than some to succumb and had
insisted he match her glass for glass. Still, it had been worth it. He had
taken her in his open-top Adler Triumph to a hotel he had used several times
before and, in bed, had found her most compliant. Eventually, leaving her
asleep, he had crept out and driven back to the garrison. By half past two he
had been in his room.
As he showered and changed into his uniform, he wondered
again when they would be moving. If he had one fault, it was impatience. Throughout
his life, he had striven for the next goal only to find that once he had
achieved it, the rewards were something of an anticlimax. He had been first
drawn to the Totenkopf by Eicke's insistence on its elite status, but he had
quickly tired of guarding the Reich's enemies. With the boss, he shared a
desire for Totenkopf Division to become the finest military unit in all of
Germany. With the outbreak of war, the reconnaissance
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