final command had been immolated outside Vienna, but not before successfully counter-attacking once more and inflicting huge losses on the Soviet army.
The division had then virtually ceased to exist and Knocke had tried to proceed back to Berlin on orders from someone who clearly did not understand the transport situation.
He had fallen into the hands of the French Army two days later.
The young North African soldiers who captured him had obviously been in awe. They did not even remove his handgun, which fact caused some consternation with the French regular army major who was confronted by a loaded Walther P38 when Knocke handed it over before his interrogation. In truth, he might still even have it on his person now if he had not taken it from its holster himself and placed it on the table. Money could not have bought the look on that officer’s face and Knocke delighted in telling the story often.
In his mind, Knocke appreciated that Germany would still need soldiers, and so he trained his men in the arts of war as he knew them. From veteran to new trooper, he set in place a continuing tactical training programme, often using stones or pieces of wood to represent tank tactics and formation manouevre on the floor of the barracks. He reasoned that even the French might object if he did so openly in front of the guards.
Because of his teachings, many a young man in his captive audience acquired knowledge that would stand him in good stead should there be further bloodshed in Europe.
Unfortunately, Knocke could not continue as he would have wished today, for he had been requested to attend the administrative block for clarifications. That was code for interrogation about wartime career’s, and most importantly, where he had been and whom he had killed.
Well, that was the day gone then, Knocke mused, for he had been many places and killed many enemies.
Human beings, by changing the inner attitudes of their minds, can change the outer aspects of their lives
William James
Chapter 7 – THE MEETING
0925 hrs Sunday, 1st July 1945, Winzenheim Camp [Rheinwiesenlager], Occupied Germany.
Lavalle had seen a lot of German officers by now and felt that nothing was going to surprise him anymore. From the ‘seig-heiling’ stiff-backed fanatics through to those who awful experiences had cowed; they had all been across his desk and received his personal interrogation and decision.
His task was simple.
Regardless of the previous years of war and what had been done that was regrettable, find men who would wear the uniform of his beloved legion and who were prepared to honour the legion code, men who could bring soldierly qualities to the struggle against the communists What his country needed now were soldiers of quality and no one could refute the fact that the Germans had them in large numbers, many of them languishing in prisoner of war camps the length and breadth of Europe.
Rumour had it that there were over five million Germans presently in captivity, less the sixty-three men Lavalle had thus far found to ply their profession further afield in the jungles of Indo-China. Most of those were either on their way to or had arrived at the Sidi-bel-Abbes headquarters of the Legion.
That the struggle for which Lavalle was recruiting was exclusively against the communist meant that he had only had three suitable candidates turn away from the offer he put on the table, for one thing each and every German understood was the communist threat.
So here he was in Winzenheim, one of the Rheinwiesenlager, the set of camps hugging the Rhine that were rapidly acquiring a reputation as hellholes for their occupants.
The large room set aside for his ‘interrogations’ was classically devoid of any charm. Concrete walls, white-washed and bare, save for an electric fan high in one corner soundlessly agitating the air. Windowless and poorly lit, the only furniture being the two chairs and a battered but serviceable table placed
The division had then virtually ceased to exist and Knocke had tried to proceed back to Berlin on orders from someone who clearly did not understand the transport situation.
He had fallen into the hands of the French Army two days later.
The young North African soldiers who captured him had obviously been in awe. They did not even remove his handgun, which fact caused some consternation with the French regular army major who was confronted by a loaded Walther P38 when Knocke handed it over before his interrogation. In truth, he might still even have it on his person now if he had not taken it from its holster himself and placed it on the table. Money could not have bought the look on that officer’s face and Knocke delighted in telling the story often.
In his mind, Knocke appreciated that Germany would still need soldiers, and so he trained his men in the arts of war as he knew them. From veteran to new trooper, he set in place a continuing tactical training programme, often using stones or pieces of wood to represent tank tactics and formation manouevre on the floor of the barracks. He reasoned that even the French might object if he did so openly in front of the guards.
Because of his teachings, many a young man in his captive audience acquired knowledge that would stand him in good stead should there be further bloodshed in Europe.
Unfortunately, Knocke could not continue as he would have wished today, for he had been requested to attend the administrative block for clarifications. That was code for interrogation about wartime career’s, and most importantly, where he had been and whom he had killed.
Well, that was the day gone then, Knocke mused, for he had been many places and killed many enemies.
Human beings, by changing the inner attitudes of their minds, can change the outer aspects of their lives
William James
Chapter 7 – THE MEETING
0925 hrs Sunday, 1st July 1945, Winzenheim Camp [Rheinwiesenlager], Occupied Germany.
Lavalle had seen a lot of German officers by now and felt that nothing was going to surprise him anymore. From the ‘seig-heiling’ stiff-backed fanatics through to those who awful experiences had cowed; they had all been across his desk and received his personal interrogation and decision.
His task was simple.
Regardless of the previous years of war and what had been done that was regrettable, find men who would wear the uniform of his beloved legion and who were prepared to honour the legion code, men who could bring soldierly qualities to the struggle against the communists What his country needed now were soldiers of quality and no one could refute the fact that the Germans had them in large numbers, many of them languishing in prisoner of war camps the length and breadth of Europe.
Rumour had it that there were over five million Germans presently in captivity, less the sixty-three men Lavalle had thus far found to ply their profession further afield in the jungles of Indo-China. Most of those were either on their way to or had arrived at the Sidi-bel-Abbes headquarters of the Legion.
That the struggle for which Lavalle was recruiting was exclusively against the communist meant that he had only had three suitable candidates turn away from the offer he put on the table, for one thing each and every German understood was the communist threat.
So here he was in Winzenheim, one of the Rheinwiesenlager, the set of camps hugging the Rhine that were rapidly acquiring a reputation as hellholes for their occupants.
The large room set aside for his ‘interrogations’ was classically devoid of any charm. Concrete walls, white-washed and bare, save for an electric fan high in one corner soundlessly agitating the air. Windowless and poorly lit, the only furniture being the two chairs and a battered but serviceable table placed
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