was well trained, well led and the action well executed and our casualties low as a result of that.”
“Thank you Max,” responded Paul, slightly embarrassed by the sudden tribute from his senior NCO, who he himself looked up to. “The success of their training lies very much in your court.”
Looking around the battlefield he reflected on the differing fortunes of the enemy, glad that it was not he and his platoon suffering defeat and all that went with it.
“Not so good for the Polish eh Max, they’ll not be heading back to barracks for a celebrity drink today. Gather the men Max, let’s get out of here.”
Max came to attention. “Jawohl Herr Leutnant.”
The Infantry company turned up, along with some Farriers from the supply regiment, to take control of the prisoners, the Polish wounded, and of course the horses.
The Farriers actually looked quite pleased, it seemed, to quote, “they were good horse flesh”, and would quickly be integrated into the supply unit pulling the wagons that kept the German Army fed and watered.
An Artillery officer also turned up, it seemed that the surviving guns left by the Polish Artillery regiment, were also going to find service in the German Army.
The Platoon collected its gear, assembled by the edge of the clearing and headed back the way they had come.
The trek through the wood seemed very different this time and somehow faster. Once they had cleared the outer edge and back out into daylight, they found the Boxers waiting for them. It seemed that Paul’s platoon had been given precedence over all other units.
The paratroopers climbed wearily onboard, the fatigue of the last few hours had clearly taken its toll. The earlier banter and swapping of stories on the way to the woods had gone. Post the battle the journey was completed in silence. All the Fallschirmjager, the Green Devils, wanted now was to get back to their camp and sleep. For some, it would probably be a fitful sleep.
In the cab of the lead vehicle, Max watched as his Platoon Commander’s head slowly slid down the window of the Boxer, sleep overcoming all. The noise of the trucks, the nattering of the driver seeking information about the battle, the insecure thoughts as to whether he had acted correctly throughout the action, drifted away.
You sleep, thought Max. You deserve it. We came through today and survived, we owe that to you.
CHAPTER FIVE
By the twenty seventh of September, the Battalion had set up a new camp just east of Pulawy, Poland. They were on the outskirts of a small village called Zagrody, in the administrative district of Gmina Zyrzyn, situated in Eastern Poland, forty-one kilometres north west of Lublin.
The village was quite small, the population no more than a few hundred. The Battalion had moved there to rest and re-fit after their action in the woods outside of Wola-Gulowska and await further orders.
Earlier that month, on Sunday the seventeenth of September, Lublin had finally surrendered to the German Army; on that same day, as per the Ribbentrop-Molotov pact, the Soviet Union invaded Poland from the East. The Red Army’s invasion had made the Polish defence plan defunct, as they now had to fight on a second front so the overall battle was clearly lost.
The invasion by the Soviets had come as a surprise to Paul and his fellow officers, but they welcomed the possibility that it would bring the war to a close sooner than expected.
Saying that, the invasion of Poland had progressed very quickly and the unit in its entirety believed that the Poles would have succumbed to the superior German forces very quickly.
The company HQ staff, Paul, Erich and Helmut, along with the senior NCOs, moved to a complex close to a working mill which sat next to a small brook running off the Kuraowka river.
Max had made good friends with a pretty young woman who worked at the Mill and just happened to be the Miller’s daughter. Max, with his ludicrous Polish, attempted to speak to her as
“Thank you Max,” responded Paul, slightly embarrassed by the sudden tribute from his senior NCO, who he himself looked up to. “The success of their training lies very much in your court.”
Looking around the battlefield he reflected on the differing fortunes of the enemy, glad that it was not he and his platoon suffering defeat and all that went with it.
“Not so good for the Polish eh Max, they’ll not be heading back to barracks for a celebrity drink today. Gather the men Max, let’s get out of here.”
Max came to attention. “Jawohl Herr Leutnant.”
The Infantry company turned up, along with some Farriers from the supply regiment, to take control of the prisoners, the Polish wounded, and of course the horses.
The Farriers actually looked quite pleased, it seemed, to quote, “they were good horse flesh”, and would quickly be integrated into the supply unit pulling the wagons that kept the German Army fed and watered.
An Artillery officer also turned up, it seemed that the surviving guns left by the Polish Artillery regiment, were also going to find service in the German Army.
The Platoon collected its gear, assembled by the edge of the clearing and headed back the way they had come.
The trek through the wood seemed very different this time and somehow faster. Once they had cleared the outer edge and back out into daylight, they found the Boxers waiting for them. It seemed that Paul’s platoon had been given precedence over all other units.
The paratroopers climbed wearily onboard, the fatigue of the last few hours had clearly taken its toll. The earlier banter and swapping of stories on the way to the woods had gone. Post the battle the journey was completed in silence. All the Fallschirmjager, the Green Devils, wanted now was to get back to their camp and sleep. For some, it would probably be a fitful sleep.
In the cab of the lead vehicle, Max watched as his Platoon Commander’s head slowly slid down the window of the Boxer, sleep overcoming all. The noise of the trucks, the nattering of the driver seeking information about the battle, the insecure thoughts as to whether he had acted correctly throughout the action, drifted away.
You sleep, thought Max. You deserve it. We came through today and survived, we owe that to you.
CHAPTER FIVE
By the twenty seventh of September, the Battalion had set up a new camp just east of Pulawy, Poland. They were on the outskirts of a small village called Zagrody, in the administrative district of Gmina Zyrzyn, situated in Eastern Poland, forty-one kilometres north west of Lublin.
The village was quite small, the population no more than a few hundred. The Battalion had moved there to rest and re-fit after their action in the woods outside of Wola-Gulowska and await further orders.
Earlier that month, on Sunday the seventeenth of September, Lublin had finally surrendered to the German Army; on that same day, as per the Ribbentrop-Molotov pact, the Soviet Union invaded Poland from the East. The Red Army’s invasion had made the Polish defence plan defunct, as they now had to fight on a second front so the overall battle was clearly lost.
The invasion by the Soviets had come as a surprise to Paul and his fellow officers, but they welcomed the possibility that it would bring the war to a close sooner than expected.
Saying that, the invasion of Poland had progressed very quickly and the unit in its entirety believed that the Poles would have succumbed to the superior German forces very quickly.
The company HQ staff, Paul, Erich and Helmut, along with the senior NCOs, moved to a complex close to a working mill which sat next to a small brook running off the Kuraowka river.
Max had made good friends with a pretty young woman who worked at the Mill and just happened to be the Miller’s daughter. Max, with his ludicrous Polish, attempted to speak to her as
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