Opening Moves

A swift appraisal of the area indicated that a small train of one engine, eight freight cars and a passenger coach was on a siding ready to roll eastwards, with another of fourteen freight cars and a very obvious ex-German quadruple anti-aircraft gun carriage on another sandbagged wagon on the other side of the triple tracks, pointing to the west. The flak gun coach was worrying close to their position, although there was no sign of any crew.

What was of considerable interest was the fact that the former train’s engine was busy puffing away. The priority was still to put as much distance between them and the camp, so very quickly it was decided to go for the smaller train heading east. This suddenly became imperative as Rolf observed figures around the engine climb aboard and the train started to slowly puff its way forward to the points.

‘Schiesse, no time for stealth Kameraden! Go hell for leather for that train. Move!”

Frantically the group leapt the stonewall and charged headlong towards the rearmost freight car. Its doors were only partially open. Swiftly realising the error, Rolf adjusted to the second car as its doors were gaping invitingly.

Fortunately, the train slowed slightly before reaching the points, as they needed to be manually switched. Unfortunately, they were operated by a beast of a man wearing Soviet uniform and sporting a PPSH sub-machine gun.

The lithe and wiry Shandruk was first up and into the second truck, immediately offering his hand to others. Man after man piled in but the train started to gain momentum as it moved onto the main track and drew the desperate group ever closer to the Russian guard. One man even managed to get through the slightly open door of the rearmost truck but it was quickly obvious that some would not get aboard in time and they selflessly scattered away from the track before they could be spotted.

One of the Austrians had just failed to gain the truck and fell badly, twisting his ankle. A comrade stopped to help and together they struggled towards the temporary safety of a small platelayers hut adjacent to the main line on the westbound side.

Unfortunately for them, the last truck just cleared away from the Russian giant as a lightning bolt illuminated the area and he was immediately aware of two men moving through the rail yard. Shouting a challenge at the top of his voice, only the two fugitives he concentrated on heard him, but the burst from the submachine gun drew more attention.

The young gunner supposedly standing guard on the anti-aircraft truck emerged from beneath his tarpaulin and saw at least eight men milling around the yard. The SVT40 automatic rifle by his side was quickly brought up, aimed and ten shots rapidly fired off.

The first shot struck a mark and the Austrian fell dead as the round took him full in the neck, wrecking both his windpipe and jugular vein in a fraction of a second.

Rounds two to seven went wild, although round five did take out one of the yard lights.

By the time the eighth bullet left the barrel the young gunner was bringing the weapon back down and under control, that round removing the left knee of an SS Untersturmfuhrer of Kavellerie running beyond the struggling pair.

Round nine hit the track and ricocheted into the already dead Austrian.

Round ten took the would-be rescuer in the left thigh, dropping him to the rain-soaked ground. As he sat there looking at his pumping wound he fatalistically understood that his destroyed femoral artery meant he would be dead long before anyone could even think about a tourniquet. And so he was, lying back onto the ground as blood loss overtook him and death came to him in seconds. By now the yard was mayhem, and the other prisoners sought any cover possible as more Russians arrived from their shelters to add to the force trying to find them.

Other escaped prisoners had also made it northwards to the yard and they too added to the confusion.

Despite the stormy conditions, they were all swiftly hunted down, with only the wounded Untersturmfuhrer left alive to tell the tale.

In the morning, the guard commander would display the sixteen corpses and hand over the wounded prisoner to the NKVD officer who led the arriving guard detachment. He was given assurances that no German had escaped and that the only ones who had entered the yard lay before him. In a wish to escape blame and to make themselves look good, the guards immediately took the heat off Rolf and his comrades. In a time when acts of bravery went unrewarded and he knew his comrades would never know of it, the painfully wounded Untersturmfuhrer did not disclose the escape of some ten of his fellows, even when his other knee was rearranged by a heavy Nagant bullet at close range, followed by his elbows and his genitals. Mercifully, he was unconscious when the officer was finally satisfied and the fifth bullet took his life.

The vodka he once carried had been consumed instantly by his captors.

Chapter 32 – THE RAILWAY