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battalion had been sent
to Poland, a prospect that had excited Timpke. Once there, however, they had
been left to carry out mopping-up operations, rounding up suspicious elements
and Jews. Capturing and shooting these people had quickly ceased to give him
any kind of thrill and Timpke had realized that this role, in support of the Wehrmacht , was unworthy of them.
    Eicke had preached patience. Their time would come, he
had assured them, but as far as Timpke was concerned, it couldn't come soon
enough. Everyone knew that the war was far from over, that at some point the
stalemate in the west would crack, and when it did, Timpke was determined to be
a part of it. Over the winter, more and more equipment had been acquired.
    Eicke had sent Timpke and a number of other officers
on several missions all over Germany to obtain guns, vehicles and ammunition.
In Poland, Timpke had seen with his own eyes that the Wehrmacht infantry were poorly provided with vehicles
and transport, and by spring had known that their Waffen-SS division was better equipped than any regular infantry unit. But still no move
to the front had been ordered. It was, Timpke knew, a matter of perception. He
had witnessed this first hand during a row with some Wehrmacht officers in Stuttgart, who had jeered at them
for being concentration-camp guards rather than regular soldiers. Saalbach, and
the others they were with, had wanted a fight, but Timpke had urged restraint.
Instead he had secretly invited the Wehrmacht officers to a marksmanship contest at Ludwigsburg.
    It had worked out exactly as Timpke had hoped. The Wehrmacht officers had been amazed by the massed vehicles
and machinery the Totenkopf could boast, and in the shooting contest, Timpke
and his fellows had won comfortably. Somehow, word had got back to Eicke. More
importantly, word had also got back to Generaloberst von Weichs, commander of
Second Army. In April von Weichs had paid a visit and had watched the division
on exercise. Rumour had it that he had been duly impressed. Certainly, more
guns had arrived soon after, and all leave had been cancelled. Something was
brewing; Timpke had been feverish with anticipation. But the days had passed
and no further word came. Every day Timpke trained his men, waiting, waiting,
waiting for news that they would be deployed to the front.
    Yesterday those orders had finally arrived. The relief
had been overwhelming. Immediately trucks had been despatched to pick up sixty
tonnes of rations and further ammunition from Kassel. Timpke had sent
Oberscharfuhrer Schramm from his own company. It had been an overnight round
trip, but Schramm, his men and the rest of the convoy would be back that
morning and then they would be ready. At a moment's notice, the division could
be on the move, heading west to the front at long last.
    After conferring with his company commanders, Timpke
took himself off to the range, hoping that by firing a few rounds he would keep
himself distracted. He took great pride in his marksmanship. Practice, he knew,
was essential, that and an intimate knowledge and understanding of each and
every weapon, whether it be a machine-gun, rifle or semi-automatic pistol.
    On the rifle range he was joined by Hauptsturmfuhrer
Knochlein, a company commander from the 2nd Regiment and one of those who had
been with them in Stuttgart the previous evening.
    'Beeck told me I'd find you here. How's your head,
Herr Sturmbannfuhrer?' Knochlein asked.
    'Fine, thank you, Fritz.' He aimed carefully at the
paper target a hundred metres away, breathed out gently, made certain his head
and hands were rock steady, then squeezed the trigger. He felt the rifle kick
into his shoulder, his ears rang with the crack, and he turned to Knochlein
with deliberate jauntiness. 'And what about you? Don't tell me, it was light by
the time you crawled back.'
    Knochlein looked sheepish. 'It wasn't quite,' he smiled,
'but not far off. Still, we had a good night, didn't we?' He grinned.