Read Online Order of Battle by Ib Melchior - Free Book Online

rigid security followed by the SS.
    He emerged from the Chancellery ruins into the gardens and made straight for the massive windowless blockhouse with the single heavy steel door leading to the Führer Bunker deep underground. From above, black, empty holes in soot-stained walls, where the windows used to be, stared down at him and the desolate gardens below, like huge, gaping sockets robbed of their eyes. The once beautiful grounds around him were ruthlessly destroyed; bomb craters, chunks of concrete, broken columns and smashed statuary lay scattered among uprooted trees. An abandoned cement mixer squatted next to the concrete blockhouse, its bowels crusted, its usefulness long since past.
    Werner’s orders were checked again at the blockhouse bunker entrance, and he started down the long, narrow flights of stairs as the steel door clanged shut behind him. His arm throbbed and ached. He supported it as best he could.
    In the brightly lit concrete-walled corridor at the bottom of the steps two grim-looking SS men, armed with Schmeisser machine pistols, gruffly halted him.
    It’s crazy, he thought. I guess they don’t trust anybody after that assassination business. Automatically he said:
    “Urgent dispatch. Generalfeldmarschall Keitel.”
    “Stay where you are,” one of the SS guards ordered curtly. He stepped up to the courier.
    “Your dispatch pouch!”
    Werner handed it over.
    While the other guard covered him, the SS man examined the case. Werner stood patiently, holding his wounded arm. The pain was getting worse. He tried his best not to drip any blood on the floor.
    The SS man turned to him. He motioned with his gun.
    “Get them up!”
    Werner stared at him. He started to speak in protest.
    “Move!” snapped the guard.
    Werner raised his right arm. The two SS guards glared at him dispassionately. What the hell, he thought angrily. Do they think I’ve come to blow up the place? Do they think the damned hole in my arm hides a gun? The devil take them! Biting down the pain, he managed to lift his injured left arm. He could feel the warm blood run down his armpit inside his clothing. He looked straight ahead. He’d be damned if he’d give those SS bastards the satisfaction of seeing him suffer.
    The guards searched him—roughly, thoroughly.
    From the bunker area beyond, an SS captain entered the reception corridor. With a glance he took in the scene. The SS men came to attention. Werner didn’t move. The officer turned to one of the guards.
    “What is it?”
    “Courier with a dispatch for Generalfeldmarschall Keitel, Herr Hauptsturmführer,” the guard answered at once.
    The SS officer glanced at Werner. Then he looked questioningly at the SS men.
    “All in order, Herr Hauptsturmführer.”
    The officer motioned to Werner.
    “Come with me.”
    Werner took his hands down. His left arm felt like a balloon swollen with agony. The SS man threw the pouch to him and he hurried after the officer.
    Colonel Hans Heinrich Stauffer had a throbbing headache. It had been a long day. An impossible day. And it wasn’t over yet. He looked up from the papers on his desk, as the SS captain, followed by Stabsgefreiter Stefan Werner, entered the office. He felt a twinge of distaste when he saw the SS officer. The SS were getting more officious, more impossible every day. The man had simply barged right in!
    The SS captain raised his arm in the Nazi salute.
    “Heil Hitler!”
    Stauffer deliberately turned back to his papers. He did not return the salute. Without looking up, he said acidly:
    “Come in, Captain. I did not hear you knock. What is it?”
    The SS officer’s face grew tight. His voice grated as he said:
    “Courier with an urgent dispatch for Generalfeldmarschall Keitel, Herr Oberst!”
    Stauffer looked up. He held out his hand. Werner quickly took a large sealed envelope from his pouch; he stepped up to Stauffer and handed the document to him. He let his left arm hang at his side. The blood was again