banged open and the Military Policemen piled out. Following the command of their leader the soldiers drew their batons. The door to the pub opened and a shaft of light shot through the darkness illuminating the policemen. A drunken para staggered out and made his unsteady way around to the side alley that ran alongside the pub. Probably avoiding the queue in the inside toilet. He seemed completely oblivious to the presence of the M.P.s But Alan was not oblivious to their presence; in the split second that the policemen had been lit up he had noticed two things. The first thing that he noticed was that the policemen kept their rifles slung on their shoulders. That meant that they weren’t expecting any trouble. The other thing that he noticed was that the M.P.s helmets did not bear the winged eagle of the Luftwaffe, the paratroopers’ parent organization; it bore the crooked cross of the swastika and the runes of the S.S. For some unknown reason the S.S. had decided that it was their responsibility to ensure that the Luftwaffe adhered to the town’s Drinking regulations. Alan smiled to himself.
The M.P.s charged into the pub like a rugby pack. The pub exploded like an anthill being kicked over and paras came pouring out in all directions and scattered to the four winds. The policemen who had entered the pub appeared to have been momentarily overwhelmed by the avalanche of escaping soldiers. However, they soon recovered from their temporary paralysis and rallied, charging out of the pub and pursuing their prey into the darkness. Some of the S.S. had caught the paras and were bringing them back to their lorry in handcuffs. Sam could tell from the tone of their voices that the captured men were protesting that they were not common criminals and it was neither necessary nor was it acceptable that they were being handcuffed.
As soon as the paras discovered that the M.P.s were S.S. and not their own Luftwaffe Police the stakes of the game changed. What had begun as a glorified game of Hide and Seek for grown ups had rapidly become an Escape and Evasion exercise. The paras were playing for real. Groups of S.S. Military Policemen and paras were wrestling and grappling on the ground.
Alan winced as he heard a sickening crunch as a baton crashed onto a skull. The fact that it was one German using a baton to attack another German did not make the sound any less disturbing.
Sam turned around as he heard two M.P.s dragging the inert form of a para between them. The soldier’s feet trailed along the ground. Sam waited until the S.S. men had struggled past and then stepped out onto the street behind them
“Kamerad?” Sam said.
“Was ist das?” The nearest policeman stopped and turned around, still holding the para’s arm in his right hand. Sam stepped towards him and buried a knife in the man’s neck. A thick stream of blood jetted out covering Sam’s face. The man’s hand went up to his throat in a vain attempt to stem the bleeding.
Sam withdrew the knife from the dying man’s neck. The other S.S. trooper’s eyes were wide with shock as he watched his colleague collapse to the ground. He let go of the para’s arm and desperately tried to unsling his Schmeisser. But it was a race that he could not hope to win. The policeman watched with impotent disbelief as Sam sawed his knife across his throat in a sideways motion. The M.P. slid to the ground and his eyes slowly closed as the life flowed out of him. Sam dropped the knife on the ground.
“Turn him over,” Alan ordered, nudging the drunken para with the toe of his gym shoe. Sam used his blood soaked hands to turn the German onto his back. The soldier groaned. It was the last sound that he ever made. Sam stood up and moved out of the way. Alan picked up the dead M.P.’s Schmeisser and fired a burst of bullets at point blank range into the para’s front. The man’s chest exploded in an eruption of blood and bones.
Sam turned towards the mob and fired a long burst at
The M.P.s charged into the pub like a rugby pack. The pub exploded like an anthill being kicked over and paras came pouring out in all directions and scattered to the four winds. The policemen who had entered the pub appeared to have been momentarily overwhelmed by the avalanche of escaping soldiers. However, they soon recovered from their temporary paralysis and rallied, charging out of the pub and pursuing their prey into the darkness. Some of the S.S. had caught the paras and were bringing them back to their lorry in handcuffs. Sam could tell from the tone of their voices that the captured men were protesting that they were not common criminals and it was neither necessary nor was it acceptable that they were being handcuffed.
As soon as the paras discovered that the M.P.s were S.S. and not their own Luftwaffe Police the stakes of the game changed. What had begun as a glorified game of Hide and Seek for grown ups had rapidly become an Escape and Evasion exercise. The paras were playing for real. Groups of S.S. Military Policemen and paras were wrestling and grappling on the ground.
Alan winced as he heard a sickening crunch as a baton crashed onto a skull. The fact that it was one German using a baton to attack another German did not make the sound any less disturbing.
Sam turned around as he heard two M.P.s dragging the inert form of a para between them. The soldier’s feet trailed along the ground. Sam waited until the S.S. men had struggled past and then stepped out onto the street behind them
“Kamerad?” Sam said.
“Was ist das?” The nearest policeman stopped and turned around, still holding the para’s arm in his right hand. Sam stepped towards him and buried a knife in the man’s neck. A thick stream of blood jetted out covering Sam’s face. The man’s hand went up to his throat in a vain attempt to stem the bleeding.
Sam withdrew the knife from the dying man’s neck. The other S.S. trooper’s eyes were wide with shock as he watched his colleague collapse to the ground. He let go of the para’s arm and desperately tried to unsling his Schmeisser. But it was a race that he could not hope to win. The policeman watched with impotent disbelief as Sam sawed his knife across his throat in a sideways motion. The M.P. slid to the ground and his eyes slowly closed as the life flowed out of him. Sam dropped the knife on the ground.
“Turn him over,” Alan ordered, nudging the drunken para with the toe of his gym shoe. Sam used his blood soaked hands to turn the German onto his back. The soldier groaned. It was the last sound that he ever made. Sam stood up and moved out of the way. Alan picked up the dead M.P.’s Schmeisser and fired a burst of bullets at point blank range into the para’s front. The man’s chest exploded in an eruption of blood and bones.
Sam turned towards the mob and fired a long burst at
Similar Books
