Opening Moves

Recovering their vision, the three sorted through the clothing and removed their uniforms, making the final transition from members of the Waffen-SS to civilians with little thought. Their old uniforms were bundled together and tied with twine found on the floor. The contents of the paper wrap were shared between them and they relaxed back in silence, although the hand-knitted jumper Shandruk had been left with drew some sniggers as he wrestled with its overly long arms.

The hatch was raised and Pförzer beckoned to Uhlmann.

“Best we sort out quickly our plan Herr Obersturmbannfuhrer, so you first on deck I think.”

A pack of Chesterfield cigarettes and a book of matches were dropped lazily down, passing Rolf as he ascended the ladder. Replacing the lid, Rolf screwed up his eyes as the sunlight made its presence felt. As his eyes grew accustomed, he started to take in his surroundings; the wide steady flowing river and the lush countryside on either bank. The garish paintwork of the barge itself, its mixture of yellow, red, and green heavy on the eye. Gingerly he made his way into the little wheelhouse.

“Wear that cap please, and make sure you pass it to the next on deck.” Pförzer nodded at a weather-beaten old brown leather flat cap gently swaying on a hook.

“Part of the uniform. Smoke?”

Rolf nodded.

Pförzer shook out a Chesterfield and lit it all in one easy motion, offering the pack and lighter to Rolf, gesturing that he could keep both.

In silence, the men drew heavily on the rich American tobacco, the steady chugging of the engine adding an almost mystic quality to the moment. Rolf spotted the two separate small lines looped at one end and worked out that these were what Pförzer attached to the wheel to keep it straight when away from the wheelhouse.

Sending his butt over the side, the Austrian looked Uhlmann up and down and chuckled.

“Not quite as smart as your uniform Herr Obersturmbannfuhrer, but certainly not about to attract attention.”

“True… true,” said Uhlmann as the realisation that he had worn his uniform for the last time swept over him.

Pförzer leant against the wheel and waved gently at the Captain of a barge moored to the bank.

“So, how may I be of service on this lovely sunny day?”

“Obviously we must dispense with the formalities so please call me Rolf if you will.”

Pförzer nodded.

“Rolf it is then. Call me Hub.”

Uhlmann finished his cigarette, flicking it purposefully into the water, and dropped his bombshell.

“We need to report to the American authorities as quickly as possible.”

Pförzer’s surprise was written all over his face.

“I had expected something different Mein Herr. Papers for the three of you, cover stories, you know the score but you actually want to go to the Americans?”

Although Pförzer was a man not fazed by much, it was clear that Rolf had caught him by surprise.

“Then you have something to tell me I assume Mein Herr… err… Rolf?”

Therefore, the next few minutes were spent in explanation of all that the escapees had seen and understood, leaving out nothing.

“Now I understand Herr Obersturmbannfuhrer. Once again the dance will start it seems but perhaps this time we will manage to fight with stronger allies.”

A wry smile expressed a great deal and was easily understood by a fellow combat soldier.

“I knew there was tension between the Soviets and the Western Allies but didn’t have any idea it was this bad. So Rolf, when?”

“The longer they wait the more chance of discovery obviously. The hidden laager we saw can only be five kilometres maximum from where we came together. I think soon Hub, very soon.”

“Today is Sunday, tomorrow is Monday 6th August.”

A moment’s pause for thought.

“As I see it the first issue is getting through the Soviet checkpoints.”

Rolf inclined his head in acceptance.

“That will not be a huge matter for us. I am well known as I go back and forth often. I drop a bottle or two in the right hands and we will slip through without problem.”

He saw doubt in Uhlmann’s eyes.

“Rolf, crossing through to the American side will be easy enough with the papers I possess. I also have a few friendly Americans who provide me with good papers for the other side.”

His bulk leant against the wheel once more and his hand worked at his chin as he wrestled with the problem.

“None the less, it is the Americans who will pose the biggest threat. If you go to some idiot who is not prepared to listen or just imprisons you, then you may find your information becoming ‘old news’ in rapid order.”

The chesterfields again did the rounds and helped the thought processes.

“We must find a combat soldier preferably, not one of these rear line swine who wouldn’t know what to do with what you have to tell them. We must find you someone who will listen,” a very obvious idea was spreading through Hub’s mind, “Someone who is of high enough rank to get people out of bed on a Sunday.”

Rolf’s quizzical look drew a response.