Wolf Neumann

Wolf Neumann lied about his age when he approached the Wehrmacht. His father and uncles had filled his head for years with stories about the Great War and he had vowed from a young age that if the opportunity arose he would follow in their footsteps, Tales of camaraderie, of courage, of long battles filled his head with a pounding excitement. He didn't think much about the dark side, the cold reality of death.

Since thirteen, three years before, he had been with the Hitler Youth and prior to that with the scouting movement but Hitler had done away with scouting in favour of a youth movement. There were similarities with scouting; camping out, outdoor pursuits like orienteering and hiking and climbing and learning things like ropes and knots. Survival skills were taught also, and administering first aid. Similar to the Hitler Youth were the drills, the uniform, and the parades. His scout uniform had consisted of a green shirt with pockets, a beret, a neckerchief which he had to press with an iron every week for their meetings, a lanyard with a whistle which was concealed within one of the shirt pockets, a woggle for holding his neckerchief in place, dark blue trousers pressed like the shirt and the neckerchief and held up and supported by a belt whose buckle doubled as a bottle opener, hiking socks and black, highly polished, shoes. Shirts were often adorned with merit badges sewn onto the long sleeves.

The main difference with the Hitler Youth involved an emphasis on military games, military strategies. Neumann had been raised in the Black Forest area of Southern Germany in a village called Sasbachwalden. From an early age he had no time for formal schooling and preferred outdoor pursuits in the thick forests surrounding his home. He had liked field trips which took him out of his normal surroundings and two memorable ones included Berlin and then later Paris.

He had a smooth complexion with baby-faced skin, bright, inquisitive blue eyes and a lick of his blond hair habitually fell over his wide forehead. He was tall for his age and it helped if he had to lie about his age for any reason.

At sixteen he was sent for infantry training, his recruitment officer taking him at his word when he said he was eighteen. He spent the next sixteen weeks doing basic infantry training near Munchen - Munich. Physical fitness, weapons training and drill were the order of the day. The regime could be brutal and tough. Rifle training included marksmanship, stripping, cleaning and loading. Marches included carrying full packs and weapons. Other aspects of training included fire and movement, use of machine guns, heavy weapons, ballistics, and command. Tactical field training included map reading, compass use, field raft and camouflage. Other scenarios included being taken prisoner, digging ditches, in fact anything that would make their life hell. Recruits were often put on guard duty.

Assigned to Hauptmann Arik Wagner's mountain unit, Wolf Neumann brought his youth and idealistic view of the world to Wagner's seasoned outfit. He was popular immediately, and the older men like Rainer Richter and Alger Fischer immediately took him under their wing.

Like most German youth he was extremely fit, having spent years in the Hitler youth, and the Wehrmacht proved a natural progression to the heady pursuits of his younger years. Neumann could hardly recall a time when he hadn't been in a uniform of some type or another.

They had been sent into the Tatar range, which formed part of the Western Carpathian range. The mountains were alpine slopes and some parts bordered Czechoslovakia to the south.

"What's your name, kid?" Wagner asked.

"Wolf Neumann."

"Have you seen any action?"

"Some... up north."

"The blitzkrieg?"

"Ja," Wolf replied.

Rainer Richter approached. " New man?" he asked.

Wagner nodded and introduced the pair.

Neumann saluted the senior sergeant.

The senior sergeant had a bark worse than his bite. "Strip your rifle, soldier. Clean it and reload."

Wagner restrained a grin.

Neumann wasted no time stripping down his K98k, cleaning the interior parts, putting parts together again and reloading his Wehrmacht issued rifle. Rainer watched approvingly but said nothing. He addressed the kid.

"Range?"

"800 metres, sir."

"And using a scope?"

"Perhaps 1,000, sir."

"What kind of action?"

"Bolt-action, sir."

"How many rounds in the internal magazine?"

"Five, sir."

Rainer smiled at Wagner. "They're not sending us babies anymore. These new guys know their stuff."

Wagner had to agree. He issued a new order. "Introduce him around, will you? Find him something to eat and then I presume you'll find something for him to do?"

"Yes, sir," Rainer replied. "Guard duty."

Wagner restrained another grin. He knew they'd break Wolf Neumann in easy. He might well stand guard duty but probably no longer than two hours.

The Wehrmacht looked after their own.

When Rainer checked on Wolf Neumann later he was gratified that the youngster was alert and on top of his game.

"Halt," Neumann barked. "Who goes there?"

Rainer gave the password and clapped Neumann on the shoulder. " You'll do, soldier."

Relieved fifteen minutes later, Neumann grabbed a bite to eat. Nor did he waste any time about it. He stroked the fire adding more wood and quickly heated some beans in a billycan. Grabbing some bread he washed his food down with water from his canteen. Finished he approached the nearby river and washed his utensils and refilled his canteen.

Alger Fischer was awaiting his return, Wagner's second in command. Neumann saluted him.

"We haven't met," Fischer was saying, returning the boy's salute, and then shaking hands with him. " Where are you from, Wolf?"

"Sasbachwalden, Oberleutnant."

"The Black Forest region?"

"Ja, Oberleutnant."

"Very well. Get some sleep. I'm leading a patrol out tomorrow. A small team but we'd like you along. You'll take point."

"It will be an honour, Oberleutnant."

He seemed to be hardly asleep before someone shook him awake. As soon as he stirred, the hand reached out to somebody else. "Hans, morning patrol."

Hans Koch stirred and awoke.

He looked towards Wolf and nodded. "I'm Hans," he said. "You came in late last night."

"Wolf," Neumann acknowledged. "It wasn't too late but I was on sentry duty for a few hours and it was a late finish." He noticed Oberleutnant Fischer in a huddle with Wagner, the two men conversing over a map. Wagner was obviously an early riser.

A short, heavy set man with thick bulbous lips grinned at Wolf. "Meino Jung," he introduced himself, holding out a thick hand.

"Wolf Neumann."

Jung jerked his thumb at the man next to him. "Cort Sommer. He's a city boy. A true Berliner." Sommer was a pale skinned, fair haired individual with hooded eyes.

Neumann nodded at the man.

Another man was approaching. Wolf knew his job from one glance. A large radio was hanging from the man's back and an aerial was visible.

"Marx Huber," Jung advised. "Sometimes called Doctor Potion, he doubles as our medic."

Huber nodded at Neumann. He was another young man and Wolf was reminded of one of those Hitler Youth types. Huber was a tall, thin man without a speck of fat on his wiry frame.

Another man approached, with an open robust face. A bit wild looking, hair unkempt. "Wilda Winkler," he said, introducing himself to the newcomer. "I'll be doing point with you. Follow me closely. No talking, no smoking. Keep your eyes on me, kid."

Neumann nodded.

The last man to join the patrol came running up. Wolf had seen him earlier, exercising on the edge of camp. Rodd Hass was a corporal and a keen advocate of physical training. The man stopped in front of Neumann and Wolf saluted him; a salute that was returned sharply.

Hass ordered the men to fall in. He looked to Neumann: "You're on point, kid. You too Winkler. Jung you'll take up the rear position. Any questions?"

There were no questions. Hass looked to Fischer. "Anything to add, sir?"

"Keep on your toes out there," he cautioned. "These Poles aren't the pushovers we were led to believe and they are fighting for something more important than themselves - their country."

"Sir," they acknowledged as one.

"Right, men. Let's go," Fischer ordered.

Wolf couldn't contain a grin as he set out. This was what he had trained for all of those years - combat.

The men moved slowly out, eyes alert, guns ready.

Winkler moved slightly ahead of Wolf, his eyes darting everywhere. Neumann noticed that he was careful about where he put his feet too. He put a question to the experienced soldier and the man scratched his head before replying: "Landmines, yeah, there might be some about. Tread cautiously with every step, kid."

They had been climbing some two hours when Fischer used his whistle to call a halt. The men gathered and flasks of hot liquid emerged - soup, tea or coffee. Rations were taken and one or two men lit up cigarettes. Winkler offered a cigarette to Wolf who shook his head.

"Don't smoke," Neumann replied.

Winkler shrugged. "If a bullet doesn't kill you then maybe one of these will, kid. Go on, try one."

Wolf lit up the proffered cigarette and immediately coughed.

The men laughed.

Fischer clapped him on the back. "We've all made that mistake, son, accepting one of Wilda's smoke factories. Heavy, aren't they?"

"Yes, Oberleutnant," Wolf agreed, stubbing the cigarette beneath one of his mountain boots and then stowing the butt away.

The men chatted for a few moments more before the order was given to move out. During the stop, Huber had been in touch with base and a call had gone out to check a new grid - Hass and Fischer had checked out the grid reference on a map, and a fresh direction was taken as soon as they moved out.

The situation was the same as before with Wilda taking the point and Wolf following closely behind.

Suddenly Winkler's hand went up and he went down into a crouch. Wolf could see nothing but he followed the man's lead.

He suddenly heard the sound of horses on the trail ahead. His mouth was suddenly dry.

"Poles," Winkler whispered savagely. "Go back and warn the others Wolf."

Within moments, Winkler was joined by his comrades.

"Where are they, Wilda?" Fischer whispered.

Winkler pointed. "Those spruce woodlands ahead ."

"Okay, men," Fischer ordered. " Spread out and prepare to move in."

The land that they operated in looked a little like the Alps and fauna included bears, eagles, chamois, and marmots. On high ground there were a number of large lakes, high peaks, and hanging valleys. Wildcats could also be seen in the mountains, a rugged area on the Slovakian border. Some land areas were simple fields with hay piles left out to dry.

The soldiers moved in, arms at the ready.

Suddenly they were spotted and gunfire rang out. Wolf spotted a man trying to make a break for it and kneeling he aimed and fired.

The firefight seemed to be over within minutes. Men were down, horses too. Wolf approached the Polish soldier he had shot. The man's lifeless eyes stared back at him. Wolf felt like retching.

"Casualties?" Fischer roared.

Hass had been checking everyone. "No one hurt, sir."

Fischer breathed in with relief and then approached Neumann. " First kill?"

"Yes, sir."

"It can hurt for a long time," he advised. " Take whatever time you need, kid."

He walked away to give him space.

Fischer ordered Hass to organise a burial detail. Ten Polish soldiers lay dead; no survivors.

Three hours later they were nearly back at their camp. The fresh steps of the morning were gone and each man was bone tired.

* * *

Back at camp, Wagner approached him. " Understand you had to kill someone out there," he reasoned, "but it's best not to dwell too long on these things."

"Sir," Neumann acknowledged.

Wagner gave him a close scrutiny and remarked: "The men have put together a good meal outside. Why don't you join them."

"I'd like that, sir."

Wagner prepared to leave. "Good man."

More to follow.