Chapter 1
MAUTHAUSEN, AUSTRIA MAY, 1945
An ideal spot for an ambush, Captain James Ross thought to himself as he shifted in his seat. Even though the Germans surrendered in mass, isolated fanatic bands roamed the countryside. As their dead Fuhrer ordered, they attacked, preferring death to surrender.
The towering pines lining the road obscured the surrounding country. As his Jeep sped down the dirt road, the only view of the horizon came from ahead. Going up hills, they saw only sky. If trees blocked the way, a curve would be ahead.
Overhead branches provided alternating sunlight and shadow, like a tunnel with a damaged roof. The alternating brightness and darkness prevented the soldier’s eyes from adjusting to the light.
A rut in the road bounced the vehicle. Ross turned to make sure his passengers had not been tossed out. Not that he cared for either man. The older man, wearing a brown three-piece suit, sat hunched, holding his hat, preventing the wind from blowing it away. The other, chained and handcuffed, sneered at him with contempt. He sat ramrod straight, appearing almost proud despite his flowery gown.
As the Jeep slowed approaching a curve, a rifle volley roared ahead. The Jeep slid on the dust-covered road as the driver slammed on the brakes forcing the ambulance behind to swerve, stopping only inches from a collision. Ross leaped from the vehicle. Once on the ground, he rolled into the roadside ditch.
“Cover the flanks!” he shouted as he crawled forward, hugging the ground. “Harrison, take the left! Johnson, Forney, follow me!”
After retrieving the small metal mirror from his shirt pocket, Ross eased it above the ditch’s rim. On his side, he slowly turned the mirror, viewing the tree-lined road. If a sniper spotted the mirror, he sacrificed his hand instead of his head. The only sound the detachment’s vehicles idling on the road.
No obvious danger in the mirror. Telltale flashes of metal from the trees or gun barrels protruding from the brush. Ross expected Sergeant Harrison on the opposite side of the road, also scanned the surrounding plant growth. Except he would use his gunsight in case a sniper exposed himself or fired at the mirror that Ross held.
“All clear this side!” Harrison called from the other side of the road.
After rolling out of the ditch, Ross slithered into the roadside cover. Inside, a path paralleled the road. His move triggered no gunfire. As he crept forward, he scanned the nearby woods. The bush behind him thrashed, alerted he turned, preparing to fire. He lowered his carbine as Forney and Johnson emerged from the shadows. Both also peered into the forest to the right as they approached Ross. As they joined him, they dropped to their knees. One removed his helmet to wipe his brow while the other continued scanning the nearby trees. Ross tapped his chest with his index finger then pointed down the path ahead. While inching forward in a crouch, he led them forward.
Brightness ahead suggested they approached an open area. Stopped at the clearing’s edge. The two riflemen peered into the surrounding brush as Ross studied the clear ground ahead through his binoculars. Tallgrass covered an area about 100 yards across. The clearing formed an open semi-circle next to the road. Near the center, stood a lone tree with a small body wearing a Wehrmacht uniform tied to its trunk.
“You stay here,” he whispered, pointing to one man. “Forney and I will check the perimeter. Wait until I come back, or you see me on the other side before you go into the clearing.”
The man nodded while scanning the surrounding brush. Ross and Forney crept around the clearing’s border, staying in the surrounding bush.
After finding no one lurking on the other side, Ross gestured to Forney to remain under cover then slid from the forest on his belly. Halfway to the tree, his hand brushed clothing. The coppery aroma of blood and feces drifted to his nose as he touched the wet earth near the clothes. A groan made him draw back. After pushing the grass aside, he peered ahead.
“Mir helfen.” A voice ahead mumbled then groaned again. Ross inched forward then raised his head. The man ahead wore a German tunic. On the tunic’s collar, the twin SS lightning. His trousers pulled down to his knees, exposing his groin area where blood gushed. Crab-like Ross moved to his left. His hand touched a second pair of boots with except the toes faced facing downward and gray-green trousers draped around them. This man had experienced the same fate as the first but seemed still in death. As the blood had yet to congeal, the wounding must have recently happened.
After skirting the blood pool, he resumed his crawl to the tree to examine the small bound body. The body’s chest peppered with bloodstains. The rifle volley must have been a firing squad. Apparently, they spared him the agony meted out to the Master Race’s Elite.
Sergeant Harrison, his adjutant, called from the road, “All clear.”
Ross rose then walked to the tree. An emptied knapsack near the tree’s base and the bound figure lacked boots. His killers must have searched him for items of use. As he raised the body’s chin, Ross shook his head. A boy, not over twelve years, in death.
“Partisans they told us about, getting even,” Harrison said as he surveyed the carnage on the ground. “Guess they aren’t all bad, though,” He added, nodding to the boy tied to the tree, “Killed him quick.”
Behind Ross and Harrison, a medic with red crosses on his helmet knelt by the man groaning on the ground. Harrison retrieved a blanket lying on the ground next to the boy’s spilled knapsack. He tossed it to the corpsman.
“Thanks!” The medic said, pressing the cloth against the injured man’s groin, “Only way to stop the bleeding here is with pressure.”
The man groaned again, and the medic turned to Harrison, “Can you hold this for me while I get bandages to bind it. He needs morphine too.”
“Have him hold it himself or tie it with his belt. We gotta get goin’. There are people up ahead who need all the supplies we got, so forget the shot and the bandages. Johnson use your Kraut Lingo. Tell him he needs to hold it tight to prevent bleeding. We’ll pick him up on our way back,” Harrison replied over his shoulder as he walked towards the vehicles.
As ordered, one rifleman knelt by the German and whispered Harrison’s instruction. The soldier looked up and called to Harrison, “Sarge, he wants us to shoot him!”
“Tell him that would violate the Geneva Convention. All we can do is offer aid”, Harrison replied as he walked back to the vehicles on the road, “Mount up, we gotta get rollin’.”
Ross said nothing as he shouldered his carbine and walked back to the vehicles scattered on the road. The man in the dress remained in the back of the Jeep. Despite his shaved head and apparel, the man dripped arrogance. He held his head back, watching Ross return. His posture and expression, as if he viewed something distasteful. The man then glanced behind the Jeep and barked in German. The older man stood clutching his hat to his head. Wide-eyed, he stared at his surroundings as he climbed back into the Jeep.
“I guess some a your guys stayed in uniform when they took off, Commandant,” Ross said as he climbed back into his seat. The driver restarted the vehicle, and Ross nodded to him. As the Jeep rolled forward, Ross waved the rest to follow then studied the map he pulled from his pocket. After taking a compass reading, Ross scanned the road ahead. “After we round this curve, we should find the camp about a mile ahead.” The driver slowed for the curve, and as they headed West, the smell of death drifted to them on the breeze.
#
“Hans set up over there. Joseph, use those trees on the right for cover,” Justine commanded, pointing to the positions she intended as she tied the white cloth to the five-foot stick they gave her. “If I drop the stick on the road, do nothing. Just proceed back to the camp after they pass. If I wave it in the air, Hans, take out the vehicle in front and Joseph the next. Then cover me so I can make it back to the trees.”
The men she addressed wore civilian clothes held Schmeizer machine pistols, and Panzerfaust rockets slung over their shoulders. Both nodded before they trotted to their concealed positions.
Finished tying the cloth to the stick, she walked to the roadside. With her hand, she shielded her eyes from the sunlight, enjoying the early spring warmth while she waited. A deep rumbling, much like thunder came from the East. Not heralding an approaching storm. Instead, it announced the Russian’s advance, meting out revenge for the German’s rape and pillage of their homeland. They vowed to make the Germans pay for their atrocities. As the Jeep appeared over the hill, she stood holding the flag above her head.
The vehicle stopped only a few feet from her. Wide-eyed the young soldier behind the wheel, jaw dropped as if seeing an apparition. His passenger stepped out. Cocked his head as if puzzled. Soldiers in the vehicle behind scanned the woods around them while the click of gun safeties being released mixed with the idling engine’s rumbling.
As the soldier approached, he touched his helmet visor as if saluting. “Captain Ross, United States Army, Ma’am.” Dust covered his face and clothing. His handsome face serious, but not unfriendly, he regarded her with kind, blue eyes.
“Justine Rothstein.” She extended her hand, which he took in his own.
“May I be of assistance, Ma’am?”
His eyes intent locked on hers. As though he had had not seen an attractive woman up close for a while.
“My people are guarding the camp ahead. We want to make sure that the people still alive inside are not harmed further.”
“My orders are to proceed to the camp ahead as quickly as possible. Inside that ambulance are people here to provide medical care. We also have food and medicine in the rest of the vehicles, and likewise, we’re here to protect and help the people ahead,”
“Good, with your permission I will accompany you to make sure you arrive safely. Once your people are in place, then we can go.”
“Sergeant Harrison, take the Commandant and His Honor in the truck. Miss Rothstein will ride with me,” Ross shouted to a large soldier carrying a short rifle. After uncuffing the man in the dress, he herded him to a truck down the line while the man wearing the suit scurried behind.
She chuckled as her eyes trailed the man being led down the convoy’s length “The man in the dress who is he?”
“Claims he’s the Commandant of the camp ahead.”
“Why is he dressed like that?”
“That’s what he wore when we captured him. I didn’t want to waste time looking for something else for him to wear before we set out to the camp. I figured the people up ahead might need us more than he needed his dignity. If it’s like the others I’ve seen, they can’t wait.” Ross gestured to the back seat of his Jeep.
“You know he probably killed to get those clothes,” Justine replied as she dropped the stick with the white flag and climbed in.
“I’m confident that the man has probably done worse.”
After they boarded the Jeep and the travel resume, Ross turned to Justine. “That your folk’s handiwork up the road?”
She nodded. “I regret the boy. We planned on shoving him in with the crowds marching back to Germany, but he was vicious. Like a mad dog.”
“The young ones seem to still have the zeal.”
“He stabbed my adjutant with a dagger after we took away his gun. Bit and kicked, so we tied him to the tree. Even then, he persisted.” She sighed. “I am afraid my people lost their patience and shot him.”
“How did you come to be a partisan?”
She tightened her headscarf to prevent it from blowing away. “Part of a young girl’s rebellion, I guess.”
She said no more. Did not expect this American to understand what happened. Besides, why tell all this to some stranger. Many Germans hated them for their religion. Her neighbor’s violence had forced her family into exile in the Warsaw ghetto. Her mother, father, she, and her brother elected deportation to escape the torment and bullying. While being transported, she jumped from the train. She hid in the forest traveling at night. Finally, during her sojourn, she found the band of partisans in the woods. They treated her as an equal and let her fight along with the others as they harassed the Germans. As the years passed, she became a leader.
As the convoy crested a hill, the camp appeared below and ahead. The smell of decaying flesh now washed over them like a wave as the vehicles descended into the valley approaching the barbed wire enclosure. Two armed men in civilian clothes stood at the barbed wire barricade blocking the road. The men moved this gate aside as they approached before waving the vehicles through. Inside the fence, bodies covered the ground except on a path wide enough for the trucks. Most still in death, but a few peered at them as they passed with a faint light. Soon a few emerged from the buildings. They shuffled towards the vehicles looking like clothed skeletons. The living held out their hands in silent supplication.
“Make sure the men do not feed the prisoners, Sergeant,” Ross ordered as he climbed out of the Jeep. Earlier, the medical staff briefed the men on the danger of giving these poor wretches GI food. Their long starved systems need gentle turning to regain normal function. Until then, the GI’s rations would poison them.
His men came forward from their vehicles. Ross ordered Harrison to set up a defensive perimeter with one squad. The remaining riflemen assisted the medics. With tenderness, they led the walking prisoners to clear areas away from the bodies, lining them up near tables being set up by the corpsman. Weakened, many of those standing collapsed to the ground. The rifleman rushed to the trucks. They retrieved blankets which they spread on the ground, so those who could not stand had some relief from the cold mud.
The doctor, a short, bald man, directed the activity of the medics and riflemen. Gradually organization emerged. One corpsman staffed each table. The rifleman transported those who could walk to the tables. They stayed nearby to make sure the prisoner did not collapse again during the assessment. Several others carried stretchers to the medics working with the men on the ground. Grim, but gentle, they eased the living onto the stretchers, giving them some relief as they waited to be examined.
The doctor now moved among the medics treating the prisoners on the ground. With some, he squatted to place his stethoscope on a patient’s chest. He then examined the patient’s eyes. Finished with this initial examination, the doctor either moved on to the next or motioned a medic to his side. He would whisper both to each patient and corpsman. Ross could not hear what the doctor said but guessed he gave instructions on starting care. Ross wished he had more physicians and corpsman, but his gruff rifleman, not assigned to guard the area, helped without orders. It still seemed like too little.
Ross had accompanied two previous camp liberations. Still, the sight and the smells he experienced as he looked around this camp sickened and shocked him. Harrison came forward, accompanied by the Mayor and the Commandant. The Mayor, still clutching his hat, scanned the area. He held a handkerchief to his nose and his eyes appeared wide behind his wire-rimmed spectacles. The Commandant also looked around, but with a proud smirk.
Justine moved to his side. “Your men need not stand guard, my comrades have cleared the area of Nazis.” The woman now carried a stubby submachine gun with a large drum magazine. She slung its strap over her shoulder, allowing this weapon the GI’s called “Burp Gun” to hang at her side.
He studied her profile, attracted by this woman who commanded soldiers. “Where are the guards?”
“Most ran away into the forest to escape the approaching Russians. The ones who stayed, we let the stronger prisoners take care of them.” She pointed to a small brick building with an over-sized chimney. “Their bodies are over behind the crematorium. Those we found in the woods we dealt with as you saw by the road.”
“Not all Germans are Nazis,” Ross said he recalled the boy tied to the tree, “Many just couldn’t resist the bullying and intimidation of the Nazis.”
She pointed to the Mayor and the Commandant. “Like those two over there? The weasel and the hyena?”
He faced her now. Her eyes seemed filled with fire. Ashamed, he looked away. It had been hard growing up an American Jew, but it did not compare to what the Nazis had done across Europe. “I am sorry if you think I criticized or judged what you may be doing. We’ve been here less than a year, so I can’t imagine what it may have been like in the last fifteen years under these butchers.” He removed his helmet, ran his fingers through his sweaty hair. “We want the same things, you know. My men and I are working to bring justice back.”
“Justice! I hope we both agree on what that word means. If not, you will just be another enemy to my people and me. The camp is now in your hands. My people must leave to continue our work. Bring these poor souls, justice, and we will be friends.“.
After stomping off, she beckoned her people to follow.
“Where are you going?”
She threw back her shoulders, scowled. “Back to the wood to keep hunting Nazis. Good luck, General, in your quest for justice.” Silent, she and her people, faded into the forest and disappeared.
Ross turned to the Mayor, who still clutched the handkerchief to his face as he surveyed the area. “Once my people have the area secured, and the care here started, we will return to the village. Mr. Mayor, I want you to assemble all the people in town that can walk. I mean men, women, and children if they are not near death. I want them gathered in the city square. Our vehicles will bring them here, and they can bury the dead. I want them all interned properly.”
“But sir, we knew nothing of these things.” His voice a shrill whine. He shook his finger at the Commandant. “My people did not do this terrible thing. It was him and the rest of those Germans who came to my country.”
Ross’ hand swept the surroundings. “Sir, these people came here through your town. You knew they were here. I am sure someone reported the smell from this place to you. You all turned away. Pretended you didn’t know. The Supreme Commander ordered every person living near one of these Hellholes to come and see it for themselves, so later they can never say: I knew nothing. I intend to make sure that the order is followed. Maybe by giving these souls a decent burial, God may look a little kinder on you when you meet him. Sergeant, take these two back to the Jeep. Make sure the Commandant’s cuffs are locked tight. I need to secure the camp’s records. Maybe we can make sure these Bastards hang themselves!”
Harrison nodded and shoved the Commandant towards the Jeep. The Mayor scurried after him continuing his whiny protestations.
He walked to the best-maintained building in the camp, assuming it contained the office. Inside, several desks and file cabinets lined the walls. Satisfied they remain locked and intact, they would load them for transport to headquarters. There the Judge Advocate’s People could extract the evidence they needed to prosecute the people responsible for this camp’s horrors. He hoped this satisfied Justine and others like them. Bring this wickedness to an end.
#
After setting the town’s people to work burying the camp’s dead, Ross drove the Commandant to Mauthausen for processing. Stopped before the city hall’s front entrance, Ross unchained the man in the dress. An MP, who hurried down the steps, came to an abrupt halt, his jaw dropped as he saluted, staring wide-eyed at the Commandant.
As he returned the salute, Ross nodded to the Commandant. “Corporal, before you lock this man up, make sure he’s searched.”
“Sir, we don’t have any individual cells. We’re only taking SS here. The Colonel wants the rest just turned over to the civilian authorities.”
Ross smiled and winked. “He is SS. This is their new camouflage uniform. He commanded the death camp outside of town. So treat him with all due respect.”
“Yes, sir. Be my pleasure.” The MP grinned, grabbed the Commandant’s arm before dragging him up the building’s grand staircase. Inside, Ross crossed a large open area with several desks occupied by Military Police personnel. A short man with graying hair, wearing a Colonel’s eagles, sat next to one desk talking to a Sergeant. The Colonel leaped to his feet as the Commandant’s escort passed. “Corporal, what is that man doing here?”
The MP turned. “Sir, he’s SS.” He nodded to Ross. “The Captain here ordered me to take him to a cell.”
Ross stepped between the Corporal and Colonel. Turned to the Colonel, whose face now flushed crimson. “Sir, that man’s my prisoner. I captured him this morning, and we just returned from the camp he commanded.”
With a scowl, the Colonel eyed the Commandant, who thrust his shoulders back as if at attention and sneered.
Ross continued his narration. “Locals cornered him at the train station. Looked like they wanted to lynch him. He rewarded us for saving him by showing us where the camp’s location.”
The Colonel placed his hands on his hips. “Captain, we’re no longer processing prisoners here. All captured Germans are to march back to Germany for processing. You will find a column of them now on the main road outside of town. Take him there and turn him over to the men escorting them. Once he reaches the detention centers, they’ll process him.”
“We have enough troops to guard these guys, Sir?”
“Captain, the surrounding forest is full of partisans hunting these people. If any escape them, the Russians are not far behind. I don’t believe any of them want to take their chances with that outcome. Our need for an escort right now is minimal.” The Colonel turned to the MP. “Corporal, go with the Captain and make sure he finds the appropriate people.”
They marched together through the deserted streets, while stepping to the side as a vehicle sped past. The Corporal and Ross moved swiftly, but the Commandant wobbled on his high heels. He sometimes stumbled in the dark, but neither Ross nor the Corporal reached out to steady him. Instead, they continued their pace knowing the German did not desire to be left behind.
At the edge of town, men wearing what appeared to be every sort of German uniform marched West on the highway past the city. Vehicles coming from either direction relied on their horns to scatter the marchers as they raced towards their destinations. Two men wearing Military Police helmet emblems stood at the intersection watching the passing traffic.
As the three approached the intersection, the MPs turning to face them stared wide-eyed at the sight.
The Corporal chuckled. “Been a long time since you jokers saw a good-looking babe? Thought you might want to meet one of the local lovelies to break up the boredom in your cold and lonely vigil,”
One chuckled as he gave the Commandant an appraising glance. “You ain’t even beginning to be funny, Johnson.”
The other nodded. “Nah, I’ll bet this is his way of announcin’ he’s movin’ up from sheep.”
The Corporal clapped the Commandant’s back. “This here’s a big shot SS guy they captured near here.” He nudged the Commandant’s ribs. “What’s your name, honey?”
“Standartenfuhrer Gerhart Mundt!” As he thrust back his shoulders, he gave the Nazi salute.
“No, heel clickin?” You worried you might break a heel, Darlin’?”
Commandant Mundt turned to Ross and bowed his head. “despite the circumstances, I appreciate your saving me from that mob. I know you might not agree with how we treated the people in the camp, but it was better than they deserved.”
Ross frowned “What do you mean?“.
“In other camps, we killed them. Here we gave them the chance to have a purpose in life. To provide a service to the Fatherland. These Jewish vermin should consider it an honor.”
“You mean you just worked `em to death instead of gassing them. Maybe the Jews should give you a medal instead of stretching your neck then.”
Mundt smiled, extended his hand. “I knew an Aryan such as you would understand.”
“Actually, I’m Jewish. Hope I didn’t make a mistake pulling you away from that mob earlier cause I want a front-row seat when they hang you after your trial.”
Mundt scowled, spit in Ross’ face. Muttered a curse in German.
Ross wiped the spittle from his cheek, smeared it back in Mundt’s face then shoved him to the ground. “Make sure he gets to the next stop in one piece. I want to see him dancing at the end of a rope.” Then marched off.Start writing here…
